Food to soothe colon -ibs -ibd -cleansing
5 elements: Acupuncture, plant spirits, and the 10,000 things
2013.07.31 18:00 probob1011 5 elements: Acupuncture, plant spirits, and the 10,000 things
This subreddit is a launching pad into my career as a 5 elements acupuncturist and consulting hypnotist. Optimally, it can be used for sharing information related to Chinese medicine, the elements, plant spirit medicine, shamanism, hypnosis, nutrition, and anything else! It can be used as a networking device as well as a place to discuss healing and wellness. My goal is to create a non-dogmatic and non-purist community of real people as healers in their community.
2024.04.18 23:48 Accurate-Broccoli-77 The Last Human of Tellus: A short story set in the Lumen Universe.
 | The city gleamed with the cold brilliance of a thousand suns, its towering spires and sleek facades a testament to the marvels of Lumen ingenuity. Amidst the bustle of enhanced humanity, Elara moved like a ghost from a bygone age, her weathered face and unmodified body marking her as an outsider in her own home. She pulled her threadbare coat tighter around her shoulders as she navigated the crowded streets, her destination a small workshop nestled in the shadow of the grand Chrono-Biogenesis Institute. The workshop was a relic, like her, a holdover from a time when human hands and human minds were enough to create something of value. As she approached the door, Elara's eye caught the glint of a holoscreen emblazoned with the latest news: "Lumen Council Announces Plans for Interstellar Colonization." She scoffed, a bitter taste in her mouth. It wasn't enough that the Lumens had taken over Earth; now they sought to conquer the stars as well. With a heavy heart, Elara pushed open the door to her workshop, the familiar scent of wood shavings and varnish enveloping her like a comforting embrace. As the door swung shut behind her, the noise of the city faded away, replaced by the quiet stillness of her sanctuary. She settled at her workbench, running her fingers over the intricate designs she had spent weeks perfecting. In her youth, Elara's carvings had been sought after by collectors and connoisseurs alike. Now, in the age of Lumen-crafted wonders, her skills were little more than a curiosity, a quaint reminder of a simpler time. As she lost herself in the rhythmic motions of carving, Elara's thoughts drifted to the choices that had brought her to this moment. She had been one of the few who had refused the Chrono-Biogenesis treatment, even as her friends and family had flocked to the promise of enhanced abilities and extended lifespans. "I'd rather die human than live as something else," she had told them, her conviction unwavering. Now, as the world moved on without her, Elara couldn't help but wonder if she had made the right choice. She carved harder, her hands aching with the effort, as if she could somehow shape a place for herself in this brave new world. The door swings open, ringing a brass bell, as a lanky Lumen ducks beneath the doorframe. Elara looks up for a moment before silently returning to her work, refusing to acknowledge her latest visitor. "So the rumors of the last human in Tellus are true?" He says to himself somewhat in disbelief. The Lumen steps closer, his eyes scanning the workshop with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "I must say, I didn't expect to find a place like this still operating in the heart of the city. It's almost like stepping into a museum." Elara continues her work, her hands steady and focused on the intricate details of the wooden sculpture before her. The Lumen clears his throat, attempting to gain her attention. "You know, it's rude to ignore a customer. Or do humans not bother with basic courtesy anymore?" Elara finally looks up, her gaze cool and unwavering. "What do you want?" she asks, her tone flat and uninterested. The Lumen smirks, leaning against a nearby workbench. "Straight to the point, I see. Well, I was curious about your work. It's not often you see handicrafts like this in the age of Lumen technology. Tell me, how does it feel to be a relic in your own time?" Elara's jaw clenches, but she refuses to rise to the bait. "If you're not here to buy something, I suggest you leave. I have work to do." The Lumen's demeanor suddenly shifts, his casual arrogance replaced by a businesslike intensity. "Actually, I have a proposition for you. The Lumen Council is planning to open a series of museums dedicated to human history and culture. We're in need of artifacts that showcase the primitive techniques and aesthetics of the pre-Lumen era." Elara's eyes narrow, her suspicion growing. "And why come to me? Surely you have your own artisans who can create replicas." The Lumen leans forward, his voice lowering. "Because we want authenticity. We want pieces created by real humans, not imitations. And you, Elara, are one of the last of your kind." Elara scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. "You want me to create 'primitive' art for your museums? To be put on display like some sort of curiosity?" The Lumen's smile is cold and calculating. "Think of it as an opportunity to preserve your legacy. To ensure that future generations remember the quaint craftsmanship of a bygone age." Elara stands, her posture defiant. "I'm not interested in being a part of your twisted nostalgia. My work is not for your amusement or exploitation." The Lumen's eyes flash with anger, but he quickly composes himself. "Very well. But keep in mind, Elara, that the world is changing. Humans like you are becoming obsolete. It's only a matter of time before your kind fades into history." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sleek business card, placing it on the workbench. "In case you change your mind. The offer stands, for now." With that, the Lumen turns and strides out of the workshop, the bell above the door jingling in his wake. Elara stares at the card, her mind racing with the implications of the encounter. She knew that the Lumens saw her as an oddity, a remnant of a primitive past, but to be so blatantly confronted with their arrogance and entitlement was unsettling. She picks up the card, studying the holographic text that floats above its surface. "Preservationist Initiative: Ensuring the Legacy of Human History." The words leave a bitter taste in her mouth. Elara crumples the card in her hand, tossing it into the wastebasket beside her workbench. She would not be a pawn in the Lumens' games, no matter how much they tried to pressure her. Her work, her identity, and her humanity were not for sale. As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Elara realizes that no other customers have walked through her door. It's a familiar disappointment, but one that stings nonetheless. With a sigh, she sets aside her tools and begins the process of closing up shop. She secures her latest sculpture, a delicate lattice of intertwined branches and leaves, in a climate-controlled storage unit. The piece is a testament to her skill and dedication, a work of art that would have once fetched a high price from discerning collectors. Now, it sits in silence, waiting for a buyer who may never come. Elara locks the door of her workshop, the brass bell above the frame jingling softly as she steps out into the bustling streets of Tellus. The coastal bio-city stretches out before her, a marvel of Lumen ingenuity and design. As Elara walks, she can't help but marvel at the sheer scale and complexity of the city. Tellus is a testament to the Lumens' mastery of biotechnology and sustainable design, a living, breathing ecosystem that harmonizes nature and technology in ways that her human ancestors could have never imagined. She passes by a group of Lumens, their lithe forms adorned with elegant, form-fitting garments that shimmer with bio-reactive patterns. They move with a grace and fluidity that speaks to their enhanced physiology, their voices melodic and perfectly modulated as they converse in a language that Elara can only partially understand. A sleek, bio-engineered transport vessel glides past, its aerodynamic form propelled by a silent, zero-emission propulsion system. Elara watches as it navigates the winding streets of Tellus with effortless precision, ferrying its Lumen passengers to their destinations with speed and efficiency. As she walks, Elara can't shake the feeling of being an outsider in her own city. The Lumens' world is one of endless innovation and progress, a society that has embraced the boundless potential of science and technology. In comparison , her own existence feels small, confined to the dusty corners of a workshop that time has forgotten. The sun dips below the horizon, and the city comes alive with the soft glow of bioluminescence. The streets are quieter now, the bustle of the day giving way to the tranquil hum of the evening. Elara breathes in the cool, salty air, savoring the momentary peace. She thinks back to the Lumen's words, his offer to preserve her work in the sterile confines of a museum. The idea fills her with a sense of unease, a feeling that her craft, her very identity, is being reduced to a mere curiosity, a relic of a bygone era. As she approaches her modest apartment complex, a relic of the pre-Lumen era that has somehow survived the city's relentless march towards the future, Elara feels a renewed sense of determination. She may be the last of her kind, but she will not let her craft, her humanity, be relegated to the dustbin of history. With a flick of her wrist, she turns on the classic television mounted on the wall. The screen flickers to life, casting a warm, inviting glow across the room. She tunes into a channel playing old sitcoms from the early 21st century, the canned laughter and lighthearted banter a soothing balm to her weary soul. As the opening credits roll, Elara makes her way to the kitchen, where her cat, a plump tabby named Jasper, greets her with an insistent meow. She reaches down to scratch him behind the ears, smiling as he leans into her touch with a contented purr. "Hungry, aren't you?" she murmurs, moving to the pantry to retrieve a can of cat food. She empties the contents into Jasper's bowl, watching as he eagerly tucks into his dinner. With Jasper taken care of, Elara turns her attention to her own meal. She retrieves a pot from the cupboard and sets it on the stove, filling it with water and a pinch of salt. As she waits for the water to boil, she moves to the refrigerator, pulling out a container of homemade tomato sauce and a package of fresh spaghetti. The routine of cooking is a comfort, a ritual that grounds her in the present moment. She loses herself in the simple tasks of chopping garlic, simmering the sauce, and stirring the pasta, her mind drifting to memories of family dinners long past. As she works, her gaze falls upon the photographs that line the walls of her apartment. They tell the story of a life that feels like a distant dream, a time when she was surrounded by the laughter and love of her husband and children. One picture in particular catches her eye, a family portrait taken on a sunny day in the park. Elara stands in the center, her arm around her husband's waist, their four children arrayed in front of them like stair steps. The smiles on their faces are bright and genuine, a snapshot of a moment frozen in time. But the happiness captured in that image feels like a lifetime ago. As her children grew older and the world around them changed, they began to drift away, drawn to the promises of the Lumen way of life. One by one, they made the choice to leave their humanity behind, to embrace the enhancements and modifications that would make them faster, stronger, smarter. Elara remembers the arguments, the tears, the desperate pleas for understanding. But in the end, she couldn't bring herself to follow them down that path. To her, the price of enhancement was too high, the loss of her humanity too great a sacrifice. And so, she watched as her family slipped away, their visits becoming fewer and farther between until they stopped altogether. The last time she saw them, they were barely recognizable, their bodies and minds transformed beyond all recognition. The ache of their absence is a constant companion, a dull throb that never quite fades. But Elara has learned to live with it, to find solace in the simple pleasures of her craft and the quiet moments of her solitary life. As the spaghetti finishes cooking, she drains the pasta and plates it, topping it with a generous helping of sauce. She carries her meal to the living room, settling onto the couch with Jasper curled up at her feet. The television drones on in the background, the familiar rhythms of the sitcom a soothing white noise. Elara eats slowly, savoring each bite, her mind wandering to the events of the day and the challenges that lie ahead. She knows that the world is changing, that the Lumens' influence is growing stronger with each passing day. But in this moment, surrounded by the comforts of her home and the memories of a life well-lived, she feels a flicker of hope, a quiet determination to carry on, to preserve the best of what it means to be human in a world that seems to have forgotten. With a contented sigh, she settles back into the couch, Jasper's purring a gentle reminder of the simple joys that make life worth living. For now, in the warm glow of her living room, Elara is at peace. Elara's brow furrows in concentration as she carefully etches the fine details of the creature's fur, each stroke of her chisel precise and deliberate. She loses herself in the work, the outside world fading away as she pours her heart and soul into the creation before her. The quiet of the workshop is suddenly shattered by the sound of the door swinging open, the brass bell above the frame clanging loudly. Elara looks up, startled, to see a cloaked and ragged figure stumble into the room. The man's movements are erratic, his breath coming in short, gasping bursts. "Please," he rasps, his voice barely audible. "I need... help..." Before Elara can respond, the man collapses to the floor, his body convulsing in a series of violent spasms. She rushes to his side, her heart pounding in her chest as she tries to assess his condition. The man's skin is pale and clammy, his eyes rolling back in his head as he twitches and jerks. Elara's gaze is drawn to the strange marks that cover the man's exposed skin, angry red welts that look like the aftermath of an electrical shock. She frowns, her mind racing as she tries to make sense of the situation. There are no visible wounds, no signs of physical trauma, but the man is clearly in distress. She does her best to make him comfortable, propping his head up on a folded blanket and covering him with a spare cloak. As the minutes tick by, the man's convulsions gradually subside, his breathing evening out into a shallow, steady rhythm. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the man's eyes flutter open. He blinks up at Elara, his gaze unfocused and confused. "Where... where am I?" he croaks, his voice hoarse and weak. "You're in my workshop," Elara replies, her tone gentle but firm. "You collapsed as soon as you came in. Can you tell me your name?" The man hesitates for a moment, as if trying to remember. "Emeric," he says at last. "My name is Emeric." Elara nods, her mind already racing with questions. What had happened to this man? Why had he come to her workshop, of all places? But before she can voice her concerns, Emeric's demeanor suddenly shifts. His eyes dart around the room, his body tensing as if preparing for an attack. "Are they here?" he whispers, his voice tinged with panic. "Did they follow me?" Elara frowns, confused. "Who? Who's following you?" But Emeric doesn't seem to hear her. He struggles to sit up, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. "They're coming for me," he mutters, his words spilling out in a rushed, jumbled stream. "The Lumens. They know. They know everything." Elara's heart sinks at the mention of the Lumens. She's heard whispers of their methods, the lengths they'll go to maintain their control over the populace. If Emeric has run afoul of them, he's in serious trouble. She tries to calm him, to get him to focus, but Emeric's paranoia only seems to grow. He peppers her with questions, his voice rising in pitch and volume with each passing moment. "Did you see anyone outside? Are the streets clear? How secure is this place? Can they track me here?" Elara's patience wears thin, her frustration mounting as Emeric's questions become more and more frantic. Finally, she can take it no more. "Enough!" she snaps, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on." Emeric falls silent, his eyes wide and startled. For a moment, he seems to struggle with himself, as if weighing the risks of confiding in her. Then, with a deep breath, he begins to speak. "I'm part of a group," he says, his voice low and urgent. "A community of humans who refuse to become Lumens. We've been planning to establish a settlement, a place where we can live free from their influence." Elara listens, her heart pounding in her chest as Emeric's story unfolds. He tells her of secret meetings, of whispered plans and furtive preparations. But somehow, despite their best efforts, the Lumens had discovered their intentions. "They've been hunting us," Emeric says, his voice trembling. "Tracking us down, one by one. They took me, held me for days. Tortured me for information." He shudders, his eyes haunted by the memory. "I escaped, but barely. I don't know how long I have before they find me again." Elara's mind reels with the implications of Emeric's words. A human settlement, free from Lumen control. It seems like an impossible dream, a fantasy born of desperation and fear. But looking at Emeric, seeing the raw terror in his eyes, she can't help but feel a flicker of hope. "Come with me," Emeric pleads, his voice urgent. "Help us build a new life, a place where we can be human again." Elara hesitates, torn between the safety of her familiar routine and the allure of a world beyond the Lumens' grasp. She thinks of her family, of the choices that tore them apart. Could this be a chance to make things right, to forge a new path for herself and others like her? She takes a deep breath, her decision made. "Alright," she says, her voice steady and sure. "I'll help you. But first, you need to rest. You can stay here tonight, in the workshop. We'll figure out the rest in the morning." Emeric nods, relief washing over his features. He sinks back onto the makeshift bed, his eyes already drifting shut as exhaustion takes hold. Elara watches him for a moment, her mind buzzing with questions and possibilities. For the first time in years, she feels a glimmer of purpose, a reason to fight for something bigger than herself. With a final glance at Emeric's sleeping form, she returns to her workbench, her hands moving almost of their own accord as she loses herself once more in the familiar rhythms of her craft. The Titan Chimera stares back at her, its fierce eyes seeming to hold a new depth, a new meaning. As the hours slip by and the light outside the workshop fades to twilight, Elara works on, her mind filled with visions of a world reborn, a future where humanity can once again stand tall and free. ------- As Elara makes her way home, her mind is still reeling from her encounter with Emeric. The weight of his words, the desperate plea in his eyes, haunts her thoughts. She walks quickly, her eyes darting nervously from side to side, suddenly all too aware of the dark corners and shadowed alleys that line her route. She's just turning the corner onto her street when a hand shoots out from the darkness, grabbing her roughly by the arm and yanking her into a narrow alleyway. Elara yelps in surprise, her heart leaping into her throat as she finds herself face to face with a familiar figure. It's the Lumen from the workshop, but gone is the smooth, arrogant demeanor from their last encounter. Now, his face is twisted into a snarl, his eyes glinting with a dangerous intensity. "Where is he?" the Lumen hisses, his grip on Elara's arm tightening painfully. "The terrorist. The one who's been plotting against the Council." Elara's mind races, her thoughts immediately jumping to Emeric. But she forces herself to keep her expression neutral, her voice steady. "I don't know what you're talking about," she says, trying to pull away from the Lumen's grasp. "I haven't seen any terrorists." The Lumen's eyes narrow, his lips curling into a sneer. "Don't lie to me," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "We know he came to you. We've been tracking his movements for days." Elara's heart pounds in her chest, a cold sweat breaking out on her brow. She knows that the Lumens have ways of getting information, methods that make her skin crawl to even contemplate. But she can't betray Emeric, can't give up the one chance she's seen for a different future. "I told you," she says, her voice rising in anger, "I don't know anything about any terrorists. Now let me go, or I'll scream." The Lumen's eyes flash with rage, his free hand clenching into a fist. "You think anyone will come to help you?" he snarls. "You're nothing, just a relic of a dead past. No one cares about you." Something snaps inside Elara, a fury born of years of suppressed anger and resentment. Without thinking, she lashes out, her fist connecting with the Lumen's face with a sickening crack. The Lumen staggers back, his grip on her arm loosening as he clutches at his nose in shock. Elara doesn't hesitate. She wrenches herself free, turning to run as fast as her legs will carry her. She sprints down the alleyway, her lungs burning with the effort. Behind her, she can hear the Lumen's enraged shouts, the pounding of his feet on the pavement as he gives chase. But Elara is fueled by adrenaline and desperation, her mind focused solely on escape. She bursts out onto the main street, weaving through the startled pedestrians as she races towards her apartment building. Her heart is pounding in her ears, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but she doesn't slow down, doesn't dare to look back. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of running, her lungs burning and heart pounding, Elara reached the familiar façade of her apartment building. She fumbled in her pocket with shaking hands, struggling to retrieve her keys as panic coursed through her veins. The aged metal keys clattered to the ground, and she cursed under her labored breath, bending down with difficulty to retrieve them. At last, key in hand, she jammed it into the lock, twisting it forcefully until she heard the welcome click of the tumblers releasing. Elara shouldered her way through the door, slamming it shut behind her with a resounding thud that reverberated down the empty hallway. She leaned back heavily against the reassuring solidity of the door, sliding down until she was seated on the scuffed linoleum floor. The Lumens were onto Emeric and the seeds of resistance he represented. And now, thanks to her actions, they undoubtedly knew she was involved as well. Tears of mingled fear and frustration pricked at the corners of her eyes as she absorbed the full implications. How dare they, those arrogant son of a beings, seek to control and subjugate the final flickers of pure humanity? For too long, she had allowed the Lumens to grind her spirit down, to carve out a small, sequestered existence for her in the shadows of their world. But no more. A renewed sense of purpose and defiance blazed within Elara's chest, banishing the tendrils of despair that had threatened to take root. She would not simply sit idle while her identity, her very essence, was erased. With a grunt of effort, she pushed herself up from the floor, her jaw set in a defiant line. There was no other choice - she had to leave, to join Emeric and those willing to fight for the right to remain human and free. The prospect was utterly terrifying, a leap into the terrifying unknown. But the alternative, staying here and awaiting the Lumens to inevitably come for her, was far worse. Elara moved quickly down the hallway to her small apartment, footsteps echoing hollowly. She retrieved a battered suitcase from the depths of the closet and began methodically packing away the essentials - clothing, toiletries, and a few precious keepsakes and mementos. As she worked, her loyal companion Jasper wound himself around her ankles, meowing up at her inquisitively. Pausing, Elara reached down to scoop the plump tabby into her arms, cradling him against her chest as she murmured softly. "Shh, it's okay," she soothed, stroking his soft fur as he blinked up at her with wide, trusting green eyes. "We're going on a bit of an adventure, just you and me." A pang of guilt lanced through her as Jasper purred and nuzzled against her. He was an innocent in all this, and yet she was uprooting his comfortable life on little more than a whim and faint hope for a better future. But Elara could not fathom leaving her faithful companion behind, not with the very real threat of never seeing him again. With her meager belongings packed and Jasper's carrier retrieved, Elara took one final look around the humble apartment that had been her home for so many years. Though spartan, it held a lifetime of memories, both joyful and painful. But she could not allow sentiment to cloud her judgment and resolve now. Squaring her shoulders, she drew in a deep, steadying breath and stepped out into the unknown. Every shadow seems to hold a threat, every noise a potential danger. She jumps at the sound of a passing transport, her breath catching in her throat until she realizes it's just a late-night commuter. Still, she doesn't relax her guard, doesn't allow herself to breathe easy until she's putting more distance between herself and her apartment. After what feels like hours, she finally reaches her workshop. But as she approaches the door, a sense of unease washes over her. Something's not right. The door is ajar, hanging crookedly on its hinges as if it's been forced open. Elara's heart leaps into her throat, her mind immediately jumping to the worst-case scenario. Have the Lumens already been here? Have they found Emeric? She sets down her suitcase and Jasper's carrier, her hands shaking as she reaches for the door. She pushes it open slowly, wincing at the creak of the hinges. The front room of the workshop is in shambles, tools and carvings scattered across the floor as if a hurricane has passed through. The worktable is overturned, its contents spilled in a haphazard mess. Elara's breath comes in short, panicked gasps as she takes in the destruction. She can see signs of a struggle, of a fierce battle waged among the detritus of her life's work. But there's no sign of Emeric, no clue as to what might have happened to him. She takes a step forward, her foot crunching on a piece of broken glass. The sound is deafening in the eerie silence of the workshop, and she freezes, her heart pounding in her ears. For a long moment, she stands there, hardly daring to breathe. Then, from the back room, she hears a noise. A muffled thump, like something heavy falling to the floor. Elara's blood runs cold, her mind racing with terrible possibilities. She knows she should run, should grab Jasper and her suitcase and flee before whatever danger lurks in the shadows can find her. Each step feels like an eternity, her footfalls echoing loudly in the stillness. She can feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, a chill running down her spine as she approaches the door. Her hand trembles as she reaches for the handle, her palm slick with sweat. She pushes the door open, steeling herself for whatever horrors might await her. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight that greets her eyes. Elara screams, a sound of pure, unadulterated terror that rips through the silence like a knife. She staggers back, her hand flying to her mouth as she takes in the scene before her. The room is awash in blood, the coppery scent of it heavy in the air. And there, lying in the center of the floor, is a sight that will haunt her nightmares for years to come. |
2024.04.16 01:20 sophiatheshrimp Breakdown of my prep and procedure! (POSITIVE experience)
Hi! I am a person (23F) with severe health anxiety and reading these threads helped me feel more prepared for my colonoscopy today, so I figured I would break down my experience to help some other folks. I'll give a timeline of my prep, what happened during my time in the endoscopy clinic, and the recovery! This post is all-inclusive, so it may be long! I am also very honest about everything because I know for my own anxiety, I would rather people be honest so I can be prepared rather than sugar-coating everything and being blindsided. (emetophobia trigger warning)
Prep:
I was given a dulcolax + magnesium citrate prep routine. I had to take 4 dulcolax tablets at 4pm the day before the procedure, and drink two 10oz bottles of magnesium citrate - one at 7 pm the day before, and one at 8 am the day of. Prior to the prep days (day before and day of), I had 2 days of a low-residue diet which for me consisted of pasta with smooth red sauce or peanut butter (smooth) and jelly. I really believe these 2 days of smaller meals and low-fiber foods really helped my prep go smoothly.
day before at 4 pm: took the 4 dulcolax tablets
5:45: started feeling some mild/moderate cramping. really nothing to worry about, no different than average gas pains.
6:15: first urgency to go. this is also the only time that I got real diarrhea like cramps, and the only time there was real solid material. the first one was the most uncomfortable one out of the whole thing.
6:50: going again. nice and quick this time!
7:10: time for the first bottle of magnesium citrate! i was expecting so much worse! I put it in the fridge because I find cold liquids to be more tolerable, and drank it through a straw mixed with some sprite. It just tasted like sprite with a little baking soda mixed in, and an aftertaste like sour candy -- really nothing to dread or fear! Put it this way: if I ordered a lemon "mocktail" and someone handed me this drink, I wouldn't think anything of it. I followed it up with some coconut water to stay hydrated.
8:00: going again. I've seen this description on other threads, but "peeing out of your butthole" is the perfect description. Could not be more accurate! The cramping is gone, and it's literally a stream of light yellow water coming out of your body.
9:00: starting to feel really sick and nauseous. progressively got worse for about an hour. Likely from the thick mag. citrate sitting in my stomach, but I may have exacerbated this by taking some sips of some nasty chicken broth.
9:30: a voluntary trip to the bathroom to keep things moving. no urgency anymore, but I can definitely feel some fluid just sitting inside. still feeling like shit from the nausea.
9:35: once i stood up from the toilet, i vomited so violently it surprised me (it came out my nose!). not fun obviously, but not too unpleasant as vomiting can be. it came out so forcefully that it was over within 1 minute and it was just clear fluid. i am a little scared by vomiting, but I immediately felt relief after it was done. my nausea was gone and I felt so much better. This (and the nausea) was the worst part of the entire process.
9:45: started sipping water and strained chicken bouillon (not the same as the evil broth from before) and watched a movie. helped clear the post-nasal drip from the vomiting episode. helped soothe my stomach and some of the anxiety.
11:15: decided to visit the bathroom again. coming out almost clear now. starting to feel a little raw from wiping (i used aloe-infused baby wipes). I also took a shower at this point to feel clean for sleep and my procedure the next day.
1:15: fell asleep for the night
day of procedure, 8:00 am: I woke up to take my second bottle of magnesium citrate. I slept completely through the night (and no accidents)! When i got out of bed, I went to the bathroom - still completely liquid. I was hesitant in drinking the second bottle of magnesium citrate because of my episode the night before, but I managed.
9:45: went to the bathroom again, laxative kicking in. feeling a little concerned because now the fluid is coming out a light brown color again. I drank some more water.
10:00: going again, clearing up - definitely more yellow.
10:30: going again, feeling slightly nauseous and with a little headache - but not nearly as bad as last night. waste looks like pee again!
11:00: going again, not much comes out each time.
11:30: a lot of noises coming from my abdomen. went to the bathroom again, still a tiny bit nauseous but no longer afraid to throw up.
and then I left to make it to my 1:00 appointment! I didn't have to stop along the way or run to a bathroom upon arrival, it was all fine!
At the clinic:
This part was a little anxiety inducing, but it was all just anticipation and uncertainty about the unknown. In the end, I really had nothing to worry about! I arrived 20 minutes before my appointment, and got checked in. They gave me a hospital bracelet and asked me some registration questions. The only alarming question was if I had any special orders in place (like a legal proxy incase I can no longer make my own medical decisions, or a DNR order). I know it's just procedural, but I've never done this before and it was unexpected. Also, if you're young like me, don't be surprised about getting some extra attention lol, don't let it freak you out. The staff must not see young folks all too often because they (and some older people in the waiting room) were all over me calling me "cute" and a "baby." Then a nurse led me to my bed and gave me a gown, a bag for my belongings, and some surgical socks. I went to the bathroom to give a urine sample (pregnancy test, required of all menstruating people), and then undressed. I laid in the bed in my gown and covered in a sheet for about 20 minutes before a nurse came in to prepare me for the procedure. She put a blood pressure cuff on my arm, attached a heart monitor, and hooked me up to an IV (saline drip, which also acted as a port for my anesthesia later). I was very stressed about the IV since I am NOT a needles girl, but it was painless and the catheter was inserted so fast that I didn't even notice the needle come out of my arm. Then the nurse took my medical history, took my vitals, and asked me about my prep. Talking to her about random stuff during all this activity was helpful in distracting me from what she was doing. She left, and 20 minutes later the anesthesiologist came in to wheel me to the procedure room. This is where I felt the most anxious because it meant things were actually starting, but the entire thing from now until anesthesia was less than 3 minutes of time. There were also a lot of people (4-6) in the procedure room and it was pretty loud. The anesthesiologist put an oxygen tube in my nose, and instructed me to lay on my left side (still completely covered by the sheet and gown). I watched him push the syringe of propofol into my IV, and before the fluid was even completely down the tube I was asleep. I woke up about 30-45 minutes later in a recovery area, it only felt like 1 second. I felt relaxed (and really high for about 10 minutes). I was very giggly, and they provided a juicebox and some cheezits. I sent some videos to my fiancé immediately after waking up that I don't remember taking updating him on the situation. They're pretty funny! The nurse brought my mom into the recovery room and I waited for my procedure report. The nurse came back, gave me my report (no polyps!!! just inflammation in my proctosigmoid colon), and told me I could get dressed. I got dressed on my own, left, and went to have some lunch! I am now home, and I feel just fine! A little crampy in my stomach/ uncomfortable in the anal area, as expected, but it's not too noticeable. I also have some bleeding from the biopsies they took of my inflammation, but it's not painful.
Overall, I am so relieved that this is over, and so relieved that I did it! I was SO stressed for months about having colon c*ncer because of my symptoms, and now I can breathe easy again. Before the exam, I was most stressed about getting my results when in reality, that was probably the best part of it all. The hardest part was the prep, and even that was probably only 10% as bad as I was expecting it to be. Having nausea and vomiting as a side effect of my prep was the biggest struggle for me during the whole procedure, and that's something that not everyone experiences. In all honesty, it was probably my mistake for drinking the nasty chicken broth and maybe drinking my first magnesium citrate bottle too fast. The nausea probably still would've happened, but I'm unsure if I wouldve vomited!
Here are some of my tips:
submitted by sophiatheshrimp to colonoscopy [link] [comments]
Prep:
I was given a dulcolax + magnesium citrate prep routine. I had to take 4 dulcolax tablets at 4pm the day before the procedure, and drink two 10oz bottles of magnesium citrate - one at 7 pm the day before, and one at 8 am the day of. Prior to the prep days (day before and day of), I had 2 days of a low-residue diet which for me consisted of pasta with smooth red sauce or peanut butter (smooth) and jelly. I really believe these 2 days of smaller meals and low-fiber foods really helped my prep go smoothly.
day before at 4 pm: took the 4 dulcolax tablets
5:45: started feeling some mild/moderate cramping. really nothing to worry about, no different than average gas pains.
6:15: first urgency to go. this is also the only time that I got real diarrhea like cramps, and the only time there was real solid material. the first one was the most uncomfortable one out of the whole thing.
6:50: going again. nice and quick this time!
7:10: time for the first bottle of magnesium citrate! i was expecting so much worse! I put it in the fridge because I find cold liquids to be more tolerable, and drank it through a straw mixed with some sprite. It just tasted like sprite with a little baking soda mixed in, and an aftertaste like sour candy -- really nothing to dread or fear! Put it this way: if I ordered a lemon "mocktail" and someone handed me this drink, I wouldn't think anything of it. I followed it up with some coconut water to stay hydrated.
8:00: going again. I've seen this description on other threads, but "peeing out of your butthole" is the perfect description. Could not be more accurate! The cramping is gone, and it's literally a stream of light yellow water coming out of your body.
9:00: starting to feel really sick and nauseous. progressively got worse for about an hour. Likely from the thick mag. citrate sitting in my stomach, but I may have exacerbated this by taking some sips of some nasty chicken broth.
9:30: a voluntary trip to the bathroom to keep things moving. no urgency anymore, but I can definitely feel some fluid just sitting inside. still feeling like shit from the nausea.
9:35: once i stood up from the toilet, i vomited so violently it surprised me (it came out my nose!). not fun obviously, but not too unpleasant as vomiting can be. it came out so forcefully that it was over within 1 minute and it was just clear fluid. i am a little scared by vomiting, but I immediately felt relief after it was done. my nausea was gone and I felt so much better. This (and the nausea) was the worst part of the entire process.
9:45: started sipping water and strained chicken bouillon (not the same as the evil broth from before) and watched a movie. helped clear the post-nasal drip from the vomiting episode. helped soothe my stomach and some of the anxiety.
11:15: decided to visit the bathroom again. coming out almost clear now. starting to feel a little raw from wiping (i used aloe-infused baby wipes). I also took a shower at this point to feel clean for sleep and my procedure the next day.
1:15: fell asleep for the night
day of procedure, 8:00 am: I woke up to take my second bottle of magnesium citrate. I slept completely through the night (and no accidents)! When i got out of bed, I went to the bathroom - still completely liquid. I was hesitant in drinking the second bottle of magnesium citrate because of my episode the night before, but I managed.
9:45: went to the bathroom again, laxative kicking in. feeling a little concerned because now the fluid is coming out a light brown color again. I drank some more water.
10:00: going again, clearing up - definitely more yellow.
10:30: going again, feeling slightly nauseous and with a little headache - but not nearly as bad as last night. waste looks like pee again!
11:00: going again, not much comes out each time.
11:30: a lot of noises coming from my abdomen. went to the bathroom again, still a tiny bit nauseous but no longer afraid to throw up.
and then I left to make it to my 1:00 appointment! I didn't have to stop along the way or run to a bathroom upon arrival, it was all fine!
At the clinic:
This part was a little anxiety inducing, but it was all just anticipation and uncertainty about the unknown. In the end, I really had nothing to worry about! I arrived 20 minutes before my appointment, and got checked in. They gave me a hospital bracelet and asked me some registration questions. The only alarming question was if I had any special orders in place (like a legal proxy incase I can no longer make my own medical decisions, or a DNR order). I know it's just procedural, but I've never done this before and it was unexpected. Also, if you're young like me, don't be surprised about getting some extra attention lol, don't let it freak you out. The staff must not see young folks all too often because they (and some older people in the waiting room) were all over me calling me "cute" and a "baby." Then a nurse led me to my bed and gave me a gown, a bag for my belongings, and some surgical socks. I went to the bathroom to give a urine sample (pregnancy test, required of all menstruating people), and then undressed. I laid in the bed in my gown and covered in a sheet for about 20 minutes before a nurse came in to prepare me for the procedure. She put a blood pressure cuff on my arm, attached a heart monitor, and hooked me up to an IV (saline drip, which also acted as a port for my anesthesia later). I was very stressed about the IV since I am NOT a needles girl, but it was painless and the catheter was inserted so fast that I didn't even notice the needle come out of my arm. Then the nurse took my medical history, took my vitals, and asked me about my prep. Talking to her about random stuff during all this activity was helpful in distracting me from what she was doing. She left, and 20 minutes later the anesthesiologist came in to wheel me to the procedure room. This is where I felt the most anxious because it meant things were actually starting, but the entire thing from now until anesthesia was less than 3 minutes of time. There were also a lot of people (4-6) in the procedure room and it was pretty loud. The anesthesiologist put an oxygen tube in my nose, and instructed me to lay on my left side (still completely covered by the sheet and gown). I watched him push the syringe of propofol into my IV, and before the fluid was even completely down the tube I was asleep. I woke up about 30-45 minutes later in a recovery area, it only felt like 1 second. I felt relaxed (and really high for about 10 minutes). I was very giggly, and they provided a juicebox and some cheezits. I sent some videos to my fiancé immediately after waking up that I don't remember taking updating him on the situation. They're pretty funny! The nurse brought my mom into the recovery room and I waited for my procedure report. The nurse came back, gave me my report (no polyps!!! just inflammation in my proctosigmoid colon), and told me I could get dressed. I got dressed on my own, left, and went to have some lunch! I am now home, and I feel just fine! A little crampy in my stomach/ uncomfortable in the anal area, as expected, but it's not too noticeable. I also have some bleeding from the biopsies they took of my inflammation, but it's not painful.
Overall, I am so relieved that this is over, and so relieved that I did it! I was SO stressed for months about having colon c*ncer because of my symptoms, and now I can breathe easy again. Before the exam, I was most stressed about getting my results when in reality, that was probably the best part of it all. The hardest part was the prep, and even that was probably only 10% as bad as I was expecting it to be. Having nausea and vomiting as a side effect of my prep was the biggest struggle for me during the whole procedure, and that's something that not everyone experiences. In all honesty, it was probably my mistake for drinking the nasty chicken broth and maybe drinking my first magnesium citrate bottle too fast. The nausea probably still would've happened, but I'm unsure if I wouldve vomited!
Here are some of my tips:
- mix your laxative fluid if you have the option to!!! and drink it cold and through a straw.
- get some aloe infused baby wipes. also, get some vaseline or something. i didn't do this, but wish i had.
- start eating less a few days before, and start a low-fiber diet. it really helps the prep go smooth and quick
- anticipate the nausea. get some ginger candies to suck on. also wish i had done this.
- stay really hydrated! it will help with the fatigue/dizziness/headaches. you'll be spraying water out of your bottom, it's necessary to replace that. also: sip, don't chug! the more fluid you drink also encourages your system to clean out even better.
2024.03.12 17:40 HruntingBlade Constipation/odd abdominal sensation, and I'm mildly panicked
I'm a 34M, 5'11, 230 pounds (athlete/weight lifter).
For the past week or so, I've had this weird feeling in my lower right abdomen, almost down to my pelvic area. I wouldn't say it hurts, but it's a noticeable feeling of discomfort (but not noticeable or made worse if I move around or am exercising). In the past few days, I've developed constipation and I've had some off-and-on heartburn (I have a history of GERD and had a bad episode in January thanks to Indian food). I've been taking Colace, Miralax and Prilosec with some relief. My stomach also aches in the mornings, but as soon as I eat something, there's a noticeable soothing effect.
I haven't had any real changes in diet lately, though I have had a little more alcohol than usual thanks to some weekend gatherings. I was exercising a lot more about 2-3 weeks back and took a break week -- that's about when the symptoms started. I should note too I'm also experiencing some lower back pain, but I think it's related to lifting/bad form with some heavy deadlifts.
I should also note ... I've got a history of worrying about my health/getting ill, which has been made worse with the birth of my son. I made the mistake of Googling my symptoms and of course colon cancer came up, which made it worse.
Is this anything I should be overtly concerned about?
submitted by HruntingBlade to AskDocs [link] [comments]
For the past week or so, I've had this weird feeling in my lower right abdomen, almost down to my pelvic area. I wouldn't say it hurts, but it's a noticeable feeling of discomfort (but not noticeable or made worse if I move around or am exercising). In the past few days, I've developed constipation and I've had some off-and-on heartburn (I have a history of GERD and had a bad episode in January thanks to Indian food). I've been taking Colace, Miralax and Prilosec with some relief. My stomach also aches in the mornings, but as soon as I eat something, there's a noticeable soothing effect.
I haven't had any real changes in diet lately, though I have had a little more alcohol than usual thanks to some weekend gatherings. I was exercising a lot more about 2-3 weeks back and took a break week -- that's about when the symptoms started. I should note too I'm also experiencing some lower back pain, but I think it's related to lifting/bad form with some heavy deadlifts.
I should also note ... I've got a history of worrying about my health/getting ill, which has been made worse with the birth of my son. I made the mistake of Googling my symptoms and of course colon cancer came up, which made it worse.
Is this anything I should be overtly concerned about?
2024.03.10 14:02 BrodogIsMyName Frontier Fantasy - Chap 31
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Edited by WaveOfWire , go check his stories out!
- - - - -
Tracy woke up groggily, the story within her dreams was quickly forgotten, but the thunderous booms, gunshots, faint roars, and harrowing yells within it were still remembered. It was much different than the quiet she was enveloped in now. The soreness in her bones gnawed at her through the half-slumbering state she was in, while painful pulses echoed from the soles of her feet. She tossed and turned within the loose sheets, trying unsuccessfully to return to where everything didn’t hurt. At least she could sleep in for a little…
No, she had to get to the others. The more she walked, the closer she was to comfort, right? The bed she was in was already so comfortable though… She couldn’t even feel the stiff forest floor, or hear any wind. It was so nice. Surely, the painful journey could be postponed another few minutes—her drones weren’t even beeping obnoxiously in her ear, so she was given some leeway to rest, right?
Wait, her drones weren’t beeping? Why was there even a bed this comfortable in the wild?
Her eyes shot open, instantly suffering from the floodlights of the industrially built ceiling searing her retinas until she could cover them with her forearm. The urge to hiss like a vampire went ignored as she sat up, shying away from the blindingly bright light and using her limb as an improvised visor. It took a second to finish blinking away the spots in her vision, but once they were gone, she could finally make out the details of her surroundings through the heavy squint of annoyance.
Yep, definitely not a forest.
The massive, rectangular, and machine-filled room met her bleary regard, a purposefully placed barricade of flipped metal tables squaring off the portion she resided in. Her bed was on the side opposite the door, not too far from stacks of thermally regulated food boxes, metal jugs of water, and some medical supplies tucked behind the waist-high wall. Her stomach sank when she considered the possibility that she could have dreamt the whole trek through the woods, or maybe she just lost her damned mind from isolation and decided to remodel the cargo bay. Sadly—and as wonderful as it was to pretend that she hadn’t been hunted down by an arachnophobe’s worst nightmare—the lack of her equipment, missing cargo crates, and the unforgiving illumination that would have been long since ripped apart for spare electronics told her that she was indeed not in Kansas anymore.
She slowly got used to how bright it was, moving her ongoing inspection away from the room at large and towards her smaller half, only to freeze when she caught sight of that thing.
A long, meaty tail swung lazily outside of its denim pants, the tip ending in shark-like fins. Olive-colored skin covered the rest of the creature’s relatively open body. Four, not two, whole arms extended out of its torso, ending in sharp claws, and a… Hold on, was that a fucking double barrel? Was she captured and being held prisoner by some sort of fucked up scalie-hillbilly cosplay convention or something? What the hell was happening? Why was there an alien standing right next to her with a gun? How was there an alien in the first place? What the fuck happened to her journey? Where the fuck was she?
The half-argonian, half-shark suddenly moved, opening its maw widely and exhaling, revealing two offset rows of very sharp teeth.
A short ‘eep’ escaped the technician, followed by a shiver down her spine. Please tell her it didn’t hear that…
The creature turned around enough for one of its eyes to meet her own.
It definitely heard that.
The alien jumped back as soon as she did. Her head hit the cold metal wall, the thump of her skull leaving behind a dull throb. Her back pressed up against the ruined escape route, making as much distance as possible between her and the piercing orange gaze of the intensely focused…thing. She was a split second from discovering if her bladder or her lungs would expel their contents first when she heard a voice in her head, the sound never reaching her ears.
“O-Oh, g-greetings, Ershan-sent. Uhm, I see you have awoken.”
She stopped pressing against the wall altogether, blankly gazing at the creature while she revisited the ‘lost her damn marbles’ theory of before. After a few moments of its uncomfortable shifting, she hesitantly pulled her stomach from her throat enough to speak, her voice squeaking out. “…What… are you?”
The creature looked back and scanned the massive room behind itself for a second, seemingly checking for something before returning its focus to her. It passed off the break-action firearm from one side of hands to the other, straightening its posture somewhat. “I-I am a Malkrin… A-A male, of course. I go by ‘Craftsman.’”
“You… You can talk? Like, I’m talking…and you can understand me?”
“I… Yes? I am indeed capable of conversation.”
Smoke could have come out of her ears with all the gears grinding away in her head. He was talking. A live, moving, breathing, and alien-looking alien! There wasn’t a hint of bad special effects makeup either! Sure, she was completely blindsided by the complete normalcy of its… his speech, which made the anxiety of not knowing what was going on easier to deal with, but a certain slab of metal in its hands drew her eye, and offered a sobering reminder her of how little she knew about the situation.
“So, uhm, Craftsman…? W-Where am I?”
The green-skinned being held two arms out wide, gesturing to the building around them like some priest would their church. “You are within the star-sent’s castle. He brought you here last night before the blood-moon… I would wager that his assistance was needed; you slept right through it all.”
Okay, that brought up more questions than answers… “Star-sent?”
“Harrison, the creator. The high one uses his skilled mind and many machines to create all that you see before you.” Its enthusiasm waned, a hint of hesitancy coloring its tone. “I was under the impression you were familiar with him, are you not?”
She slid down the wall, the pressure on her shoulders fading at the mention of another pioneer. Her knees pulled back to her chest, her arms wrapping around them. “Harrison? Oh, thank God. I thought this was… N-Never mind. What’s he doing right now? Where are the others?”
“Indeed, I too thank the God of this land for his benevolence in bringing me to the star-sent,” Craftsman agreed with a nod, her positive reaction reinfusing confidence into his speech. “But I digress, the high one and the others are cleaning up the final stragglers of last night’s horde as we speak. I presume they will be back shortly.”
A quiet few moments passed as she gathered her thoughts, a string of uncertainty still tied to her chest. “So… uh, is it just you here? What’s… What’s with the gun?”
The… Malkrin? shook his head, gesturing to something out of Tracy’s vision along the wall she sat against. “I have been tasked to guard you and my mate until the group is sure there are no more beasts within the meadow; the weapon is in service of such.”
“Your what…?” she breathed, her head turning to where he pointed. Another, much larger Malkrin laid on a raised medical bed, watching the exchange passively. A lot of the being was covered in a white blanket, but Tracy could still see the dark skin, long snout, four arms, and triangular ears of the alien. A tail was laid atop its lap, short fins interspersed between its length, leading to an end suited for swimming similar to Craftsman’s. The ‘mate’ was silently observing, sluggishly bringing an arm out of its—her?— blanket to gently wave. “I didn’t know you were… there… H-Hello.”
The black being smiled lightly, offering a polite nod in return, but remained silent.
“Do not take her for reticent, Ershan-sent. She is incapable of speaking for the time being, since she has recently awoken from a coma. However, her spirits are certainly not tainted,” Craftsman touted, adding a short wink toward his other.
Tracy frowned, sympathetic, but not quite sure how to take the information. “Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It is no matter. Thanks to the star-sent, she is alive, and that is worth more than anything I can ask for.”
Thanks to the star-sent? That’s Harrison, right? Just what was that engineer getting up to while she was locked in the cargo bay? While she was messing around with the radio and R.C. cars, he was out here meeting and healing actual fucking aliens. She held her palms up, stopping anything the green Malkrin was ready to say, slowly standing up off the mattress.
“Wait wait wait wait wait wait… Wait, Mr. Craftsman. How… can we even talk? How do you understand English? How can I understand you? You’re not even using your mouth.”
“Ah, that is quite simple. You are receiving my intent and sharing your own—”
A loud thump echoed through the room loud enough to drone out any other noise, Tracy and the other two’s attention turning towards the doorway on the other side of the barricade. A human that she couldn’t immediately recognize had dropped his stuffed rucksack by the door and stumbled toward her corner, but her attention was stolen by his outfit before she could commit brainpower to play mental guess who.
He wore a familiar guardsman’s armor, donning an open-face helmet made with the same steel-ceramic texture. Slightly reddened gauze was wrapped around one of his shoulders, ending just before a gas mask that hung underneath his limply swaying arm—said appendage being absolutely covered with small scars and crusted blood from clotting cuts. Equipment and hardware littered his dark-green splattered chest rig, ranging from flares and tool-box implements to knives and first-aid kit materials. Everything was outdone in size by the loosely held firearm and the belt of massive shells extending out from its side. The weapon looked like nothing she had ever seen before, swinging side to side from a sling as he ambled forward, its bulk slightly obscuring the numerous full pockets lining his muddied pants.
Was that… Harrison? Even if she didn’t have many conversations with him, she knew the man liked his cargo space—enough to get into a somewhat heated discussion about it with the other pioneers, anyway.
She dragged her focus back up to his face, noticing his glossy eyes and the black bags underneath. His expression almost seemed to want to melt off his skull, the long breaths and unsteady gait telling of exhaustion. His short but growing beard that straddled his chin and sparsely grew along his jaws didn’t help the ‘please let me clock out even though it’s nine A.M.’ look either. The engineer took his helmet off as he approached, holding it within the armpit of his good shoulder. The head armor was covered in scratches, appearing to deform a little on the back… almost like it was gnawed on. She just stared, trepidation mixing with a hell of a lot of relief to create a pit in her stomach, applying pressure to the sides of her head. Little spots of soreness behind her eyes flared up, begging for a river to flow out from them.
“Craftsman, please tell me you miraculously learned how to put a pot of coffee on…” Harrison pleaded tiredly. He rubbed his eyes, autopilot apparently being the only thing keeping him upright.
The alien shook his head. “I-I am afraid not. I do not know what you speak of.”
The human finally trudged up to the metal barricade, hopping over sluggishly. “Ehh, it's fine. Let's just hope it cooks up before I collapse, because I’ve been up for wayyy too long and the stims are wearing… off…”
His eyes locked with Tracy’s, his train of thought visibly screeching to a halt.
“Oh… H-Hey, Tracy. You’re awake. For how long?”
She approached him anxiously, stopping a meter or two in front of the man and looking up at him with uncertainty, unsure if she was just seeing a ghost or not. Everything she had planned to say when she finally met the others crumbled instantly, her voice croaking out an overwhelmed response. “Hi. N-Not long. I didn’t think that… S-Sorry, let me s-start again. I… You… How are…”
Her vision blurred as all the built-up stress, anxiety, loneliness, and suffering attempted to pour out through molten tears. The journey hadn’t prepared her for the way the floor would be dropped out from under her as soon as she saw someone else. She had been stuck in that dark corner of the cargo bay for so long… So, so long… Her entire existence was focused on how she would somehow make it to where the others were. Every time a thread of worry broke into her mind, she simply swept it under the metaphorical rug, pushing herself to work until she couldn’t, then filling in everything else with mindless entertainment.
Now, all of it came tumbling down. Nearly a month of emotions caught up on seeing a familiar face for the first time since everything went up in flames. Christ, the four days spent walking with her stress at the max and barely stumbling between the hordes of death had only amplified it all. Like a focusing crystal, she broke at the slightest semblance of something normal, even if it was only just a tired and bruised human.
Tracy stepped back and wiped the building dampness from her eyes, taking in the uncomfortable-looking engineer. She could finally see the separation between what she saw last and what she saw now. “You… What did I miss? I couldn’t have been in the cargo bay for that long, right? The ship crashed like what, less than a month ago? What happened? ”
He put the helmet down on the barricade behind him, tiredly rubbing his entire face with both hands. “That… is a long story. Sorry, do you mind if I make some coffee beforehand? I can explain… some things over breakfast, I guess.”
“I…” She shrugged, shaking her head. “I quite literally have no stake in anything right now. Do whatever. I’ll be here… with a few questions I guess.”
Harrison’s legs didn’t move, his focus lingering on her for a few more seconds. A rough blink broke him out of it when he noticed her confusion, mud-stained fingers coming up to scratch at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, it’s just… odd seeing another human after seeing only Malkrin for so long. I’m uh, glad to see you’re okay…” He stood in place for a second longer. “…I’ll start the coffee, just ah, gimme a minute.”
He stepped past her as she stared blankly into space, his words slowly being processed in her mind. Her pondering came screeching to a halt when they all added up. She turned toward where the man was fiddling with the assumed coffee machine on an upright table away from where the aliens were resting, both focused on each other instead of her interaction with Harrison.
She took a few steps closer to him, trying to find some excuse for the way he phrased things that weren’t… that. “…What do you mean ‘odd seeing another human?’”
The man froze, a sharp inhale just barely audible. He closed his eyes, a haggard yet frustrated look drawing over his face, as his gaze met hers, his hands on the edge of the table. She raised her arms in innocence.
“D-Did I say something? I-I’m sorry if I misinterpreted somethi—”
“You didn’t misinterpret anything,” he drawled, a grave inflection growing over what once was run-of-the-mill exhaustion. “Before I tell you anything, I need you to understand that it’s just us two.”
“Just us what? Like… we’re the only ones here? In this building?” she coughed out nervously.
His gaze flicked elsewhere, a hand combing through his sweaty hair. “We’re the only humans… on the entire planet, Tracy… Except, well…” His voice trailed off.
“You don’t mean that…”
“They died during the crash—before I woke up,” he stated evenly, not giving her a single ounce of humor or insincerity to trick herself into thinking it was some sort of morbid joke.
Her chest felt tight, forcing her to take in shallow breaths, each exhale leaving with a tremble. It was just the four of them until the colony ship came, and that was already such a low number… And here… it was just him. T-they had a lot of work to do! They had habitats and infrastructure to set up! Hell, it was a daunting task to begin with; how were they even meant to get anything done with just the two of them?
“So… they’re… gone?” she choked out, pushing down the panic swirling up from her chest. “It’s just you here? I… How have you… That can’t be…”
“Yes! I know!” he snapped back. “ It’s just fucking… me. I told you it’s a long Goddamn story.”
His back straightened as he stood up, taking in deep breaths. A long moment of stunned silence permeated the room, his low voice calmly returning.
“…Sorry. It’s been an eventful few days. Weeks even…”
A small ding came from the coffee maker, catching both her and his attention. He exhaled sharply, grabbing a large thermos and letting the black liquid stream into it, slowly filling the air with its earthy aroma. “I’ll go get some food and water for you while you…” He cleared his throat. “…let that settle. Feel free to sit wherever.”
She nodded hesitantly, walking over to a warm vent nested near the corner. The ambient heat of the air was nice, helping to soothe the soreness stretching through her legs. She brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and rocking herself ever so slightly as she poorly attempted to purge any thoughts from surfacing. The engineer was saying something to the aliens, but she didn’t listen in; her mind was too busy piecing together what she would do. It was obvious: follow whatever the group was doing. Though, she couldn’t help but feel disconnected and unsure of what was even happening, let alone how she fit into everything.
Her disarrayed thoughts were cut off by the only other human entering her view, pushing an ice-cold water canister and a clear box full of food into her hands. She took them tentatively, watching the man slowly let himself down a meter or so away, slipping out of his heavy vest with a grunt. He drank from his thermos over the course of a minute or two, resting his back against the wall while she stared down at the meal, waiting to build up an appetite after the initial waves of shock passed.
She spoke up first, understanding he wasn’t going to. “H-Hey.”
“Hm?”
“What’s in here, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“It’s all just meat and vegetables. We made a few different types of meals, so I couldn’t tell you what’s actually in there until you take a bite. I would presume either fish or hyena-boar meat,” he mumbled, resting his head against the metal wall.
“Uh, ‘we’?”
“Yeah, Akula helped out with cooking despite complaining about it being a ‘male’s job’ or whatever.”
She set the food to the side, pulling her legs in close enough to rest her chin atop her knees. “So, the aliens—”
“—Malkrin,” he cut her off softly.
“…Malkrin. How did you even… Where did they come from? The drones didn’t see roads or anything in the woods. Do they have, like, underground cities or something? Why are they with you? How did ‘first contact’ go?”
“Ah… first contact, yeah.” A nervous chuckle left him, his hand coming up to rub his neck guiltily. “Those were an… interesting few days. It was just a lot of me being stuck in the barracks, scared shitless about the ten-foot monster outside, and wondering what the hell I was going to do, given that it was just me at the time… Some stuff happened—said ten-foot monster got cold and I helped, we talked a bit, and then fought a blood-moon side-by-side. From there I’ve only met more Malkrin, I guess.
“It probably looks a bit odd from the outside, but besides a few physical details, they’re not that different from humans. For your questions, I figure they’re around Old Earth’s medieval ages in technology, comparatively. We’re on what they call the mainland, which is mostly uninhabited for some reason, but they’re sending people here to colonize it. There are apparently more Malkrin out there, but I’ve only encountered the four.
“Anyway, they’re here with me because there isn’t really any other option for them; they help with labor—and in the craftsman’s case, inventions, I guess—while I make sure they don’t freeze or starve. Of course, it’s not that simple, but… that’s the gist of it.”
He looked at the ceiling for a few seconds before continuing with hesitant words.
“That… actually might not be all the reasons why they’re with me. Since Shar saw the New Horizons fall from the sky in flames, she’s pretty stuck on me being something important to what she calls the Sky Goddess. There’s a lot going on with it that I don’t understand, so I mostly stay out of it, not bringing it up if I don’t have to. I usually don’t have to walk on thin ice with it, but I’ve tried not to mention Sol or anything about it. I don’t wanna broach that subject yet. Maybe you being here will help, but for now, just… act like we fell from the sky.”
She stared back blankly, slowly trying to piece together the situation she found herself in. “That’s… a lot to take in.”
He nodded his understanding of her plight. “Yeah, it’s… It’s a lot. You’ll probably get used to it pretty soon, especially after meeting Shar—she’s pretty amicable.”
“Shar?”
“Yeah, Sharky. She was the first Malkrin I mentioned. She’s been there since day one and all.”
“I see.” She wanted to ask more about the aliens, how they interacted with him, and what they were like, but a string of doubt in her mind told her she was being overbearing with all of her questions, and the last thing she wanted to do was to annoy the only other human around. She was never good at interactions like this… Christ, she practically already cried right in front of him; the tinge of embarrassment had already started to seep in.
He elected not to respond, simply drinking more of his coffee and opening his meal box up to dig in. Its scent wafted her way, grabbing her by the nose and digging up an insatiable hunger for actual food. The slightly sweet, roasted scent of the ribs he ate reminded her of how much she missed eating cooked meals, and the fact that he gave her one.
The seal of the clear container popped off satisfyingly, warmth radiating off the hot meat and vegetables. She used the fork he gave her to shovel the savory cut of the fish-like meat into her mouth, quickly followed up by some grilled zucchini, both flavors dancing in unison across her taste buds.
She felt the mental and physical strain on her body melt away with the first bites, each further cut of food nourishing the drained muscles and bones of her limbs. Maybe it was just her mental state improving, but just eating something that had actual taste helped to brighten her outlook immensely. Where once the dream of human interaction and safety had ushered her forward, a simple bite of meat now ensured she persevered through whatever horrors got between her and the next meal.
Okay… maybe she was being a little bit dramatic, but it was good, okay? It was probably just the dump of dopamine from eating something new. She felt somewhat refreshed from the darkening pit of bombshells dropped on her today, and it was still only morning. She continued to spear the meat and take bites, making sure to take smaller and smaller chunks to preserve the dwindling amount of food.
Her eyes glanced at the engineer beside her every once in a while, taking in the way he fidgeted with his thermos and tapped his foot against the ground. He looked… anxious. Did he want to say something? Did he want to leave? Years without personal interaction would be the death of her…
“Are you, like, stressed… or something?” she blurted out, immediately regretting it. Her hand almost subconsciously came up to smack her forehead in sheer embarrassment.
“No, I just… Did you finish the meal?”
“Yes?”
He quickly downed the rest of his drink, shifting his weight around before standing up. “I’m going to go help out the others with clean-up. You’re free to come and meet them,” he offered flatly, putting his rig back on, making some soft clinks of equipment as he tightened it. “I’ll help you settle in at some point; it’s up to you if you’d prefer to get this part of it done now or later.”
She glanced at the other aliens in the room, who were simply looking at each other, and considered the proposal. Having a little while longer to just… think sounded nice, but maybe being left with all the things she just learned wasn’t the best idea. Plus, she would have to do it eventually, right? Why not just rip the wax off and get to it? Seeing the actual group and their work might clear up a lot more things than just idle—and somewhat awkward—conversation, anyway.
“Uh… yeah, sure. Show me how I can help.” She got to her feet quickly, rotating her stiffening shoulders.
He waved her off. “N-No, I didn’t mean for you to have to join, just to meet Shar and Akula, and then I’ll show you the barracks.”
“Nah, I can help. It’s not like I have anything else to do…”
His hands came up to rub his eyes, failing to wipe away his drained expression. “I’m not gonna argue. I hope you’re comfortable being covered in alien blood. It’s… messy out there.”
Clearly, he misunderstood how she was used to being dirty. Grime, oil, various fuels, and melted plastic didn’t mean anything to her at this point, how bad could it be?
- - - - -
When Harrison said ‘clean up,’ she didn’t think it was going to be… this. The awful odor of rotting flesh and acidic bile infiltrated her nostrils as soon as the workshop’s front door opened. In an act of self preservation, her breaths came in through her mouth; any time she used her nose, she regretted it immediately. The place didn’t look much better than it smelled, either. An array of green-stained spikes surrounded the entrance in several layers, each line stuffed with—
She jumped at the sight of those crab-spider looking things up close. Calming down enough to step foot onto the squishy, blood-filled mud took much longer than she was comfortable admitting, and of course, her boots suddenly became the greatest gift her dad ever gave to her, even if it was kind of… Okay, very disgusting.
Her eyes finally dragged up from the ground and to where the lifeless corpses lay, most looking to have climbed over their impaled brethren to get over the wall of stakes. It was much worse down the center of the entrenchments; droves of bodies were seemingly pushed aside to make a short walkway through the aisle of gore and viscera. Stray chunks of shells and organs littered every square foot of space, only being outdone by the shredded legs of something absolutely massive. Her questions of its origin were quickly answered when a fulminated spider-monster fell off what she assumed *to be a pile of carcasses by its own weight. Boy, she was wrong… The mountain of bodies was actually the ruptured corpse of a massive creature with its entire front half *missing.
The worst part of the whole scene was probably how many were lined up by the front door. Most were the common shelled grunt Tracy had seen terrorizing her drones, but there were a few stick-like creatures, all of which startlingly close to the workshop entrance. Another of the colossal bastards had crashed over the closest barricade, similarly missing a chunk like the first one she saw. It almost looked like it exploded from the inside. She took another step forward, nearly tripping over a ridiculous pile of shotgun shells, their hollow plinking standing out among the soft squishes of footfalls. They littered the ground where she stood, complimented by four empty belt-boxes that would be more at home next to a mounted machine gun.
“W-What happened here?” she asked softly, her eyes nearly glazing over as she stared at the engineer in confusion.
He stepped around a dead grunt. “Blood-moon.”
“Blood-moon?”
“You don’t know?”
A light spark of frustration slipped into her voice. “Dude… I’ve been in a dark, half-flooded cargo bay since we landed! I don’t think it gets any more ‘living under a rock’ than that.”
“Oh… uh, yeah, my bad,” he muttered, clearing his throat and rolling his wrist as he explained. “So every fifteen or so days, the moon turns red, making all the bugs swarm up and attack everything. That’s what happened last night.”
Her eyes widened. “A-And that’s… normal?”
“Of course it’s fucking not!” he barked, spinning on the spot to face her and throwing the arm not burdened by his shotgun into the air. “Nothing on this planet is normal… Here, let’s just… go find the others…” The engineer continued through the hallway of bug corpses, waving for her to follow.
“Y-Yeah,” Tracy stuttered, unsure how to take Harrison’s temper as she tried to catch up. Sure, he was always quick to get worked up, but it wasn’t ever really at anyone else. At least he was equally as ready to simmer down.
He kept looking back at her as they walked, eventually stopping and mumbling an apology. “Sorry about that, there’s just a lot to do here. The clock’s ticking…”
“You’re… fine. I-I get it.”
He hummed his understanding, returning his attention to leaving the viscera-stained area. Her focus stayed on him, her mind connecting everything she heard to the way he acted. His voice raised at the mention of the other crewmates and the blood-moon, he kept pressuring himself to complete the work needed, and… Yeah, just looking at the back of his helmet, she could see the way its metallic-ceramic composition denatured into the shape of gnawing teeth.
It made sense. While she was suffering with the shitty conditions of the cargo bay—and existential dread peering over her shoulder—he was going through his own pains. He was pretty reticent with details of what happened to him, so she could only imagine what the man had seen to grow such an adhering layer of stress.
“HEY!” Harrison called out, stripping her from her thoughts.
She quickly followed his gaze, seeing two massive humanoid creatures ascending the hill, stepping around a few more stray carcasses—they had to have numbered in the hundreds by now. One of the Malkrin was colored dark green, its skin coming to a black along their many hands and head-topped frills. That one held a simplistic-looking weapon and an accompanying quiver full of differing types of bolts. A skin-tight suit covered its chest, holding a lot of seemingly waterproof pockets and loose medical equipment scattered over the material. There were even some zippers for more cargo space within its tight leggings, following in the storage-inclined human’s footsteps.
Her R.C. drone trudged up the hill as well, its upgraded wheels managing to find some grip in the mud. It appeared to be locked on and tracking the second alien, which was a good foot-and-a-half or two taller than the first, holding a massive orange shield with a mad-max looking bull bar that was lined with spikes and plenty of green gore. The being was also covered from shoulders to feet in… armor… Huh.
Wait a minute. The copper eagle across the chest plate, the line of spikes that ran up from wrist to tricep, and the scaled fauld were all things she remembered fondly; she knew all of it very well, because she remembered spending weeks modeling it.
“Um, H-Hey, Harrison…?”
He stopped waving the two Malkrin down, looking over at the technician. “Hm?”
Her words came out rapidly from growing excitement pooling in her veins. “Do you think you could possibly explain why there’s a giant shark wearing the chaos armor I designed, with a shield big enough to be classified as a wall for city building regulations?”
He smirked for a moment before shaking it off, the gears in his head turning. “Your design?”
She swapped her weight from foot to foot, her own smile barely held down. Her attention was put entirely on the approaching Malkrin, watching how the pieces of armor moved smoothly with each step and swing of the alien’s arms. “Yeah, my design! I never expected to see it… you know, in person. And by a four-armed alien nonetheless! It’s… Holy shit, this is awesome…”
“Wait, so that folder…”
Her eyes met with his. “I knew someone was making use of my models! I just didn’t expect… Hey, wait. That guardsman armor you’re wearing, you printed that out from the folder I uploaded too, huh?”
His palm was held up pleadingly, but a look of admiration crossed his face. “H-Hold on. So, that folder was uploaded by you? The one with the fantasy armor and big… ‘bolters’—or whatever they were called. That was you?”
She nodded vigorously. “Tell me you’ve printed out a bolter already! Ah… Actually, that’s probably not a good idea since the bullets weren’t ever tested outside of some free online ballistics program… S-Still! I never thought I’d be seeing the chaos armor on something that could actually wear it. Did you try the daedric armor? What about the Eldar?”
“I only needed one set of armor, and there aren’t nearly enough resources to make any more than that. Though I will admit that what she’s wearing has served her pretty well, taking a good few hits and going strong. Shar takes good care of it too—scrubbing blood off of it and smoothing out anywhere it gets damaged. I’ve only had to recycle and reprint one piece so far.”
The two Malkrin finally crossed the distance with the well-armored one coming close. Too close. Tracy backed up as the massive alien took a knee right in front of her. It was still nearly a foot taller than her after, but the technician’s awe at the being’s size was quickly drowned out by a baritone, almost angelic feminine voice taking over her own internal monologue.
“Greetings Ershan-sent. Forgive me for be—g unavailable when you awoke. I pray this paladin will be acceptable to the Goddess’ chosen as a viable prot—tor.”
Tracy stared at the giant shark person, then at Harrison, a confused and pleading look overcoming her visage. He gazed back at her expectantly, nodding his head toward the alien like it was some expected ritual. That didn’t help one bit.
She swallowed, locking her focus with the glowing orange eyes of the tall zealot. Her words came out hesitantly, the fear of saying the wrong thing suddenly flaring up. “I… am glad to have your… protection…?”
The paladin bowed her head. “I sh—l see to it. Your breath shall never cease so l—g as I draw my own”
Tracy felt her hands begin to fidget, her mind left blank yet filled to the brim at the same time, completely incapable of processing a proper response. Harrison thankfully cut the silence with his voice as he approached the maroon-colored alien.
“So, how’d the hunt go? Did you find any scavengers?”
“We did ind—d. Akula and I have culled two swarms of five, both approach—g from the direction of the swamps,” the paladin confirmed.
“She is neglecting to mention that I slaughtered three with one fulminating bolt of my speargun,” the green one interjected with a smirk, receiving a scowl from the other alien.
“Hey, those bolts will do damage, I’m glad to see you using them properly. Anyway, swamps, you said? I’ll keep a note of that. So, do you want to rest up before we start cleaning up this mess we made?” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the mounds of bug carcasses.
A sort of chitter came from the taller Malkrin, an odd smile breaching her cheeks. “It is a mess you have made y—rself, with your mystical implements of destruction.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m serious though, I’d like to get this done so we can get to work on the million other things we need to finish in the next fifteen days,” he shot back.
A maroon tail worked its way over his shoulder, not too unlike a reassuring hand. His posture relaxed at the touch, his weary eyes seeming to soften. “You n—d not stress so much over it, we shall c—plete it swiftly. Especi—ly with the assistance of others.”
His free hand rubbed the length of her appendage absently. “Alright, get something to eat first though. You haven’t eaten anything all night, and I know how you get after combat.”
“But of c—rse. I am grateful for your consid—ation, I shall not be long.”
“Alright, same goes for you too, Akula.” He nodded in the direction of the other alien.
The two Malkrin left for the workshop without any extra words, their stride showing long-winded exhaustion. The reconnaissance done she sent out drove a few loops around them in a way just as adorable as she imagined when she programmed it.
He finally turned to address the frozen technician. “I guess I should show you around a little bit before we get to the first job of the day.”
“Y-Yeah,” Tracy responded slowly, trying to piece together the interactions she just witnessed.
What was the snappy back and forth between the two aliens about? How far back did Harrison and the paladin go? What was up with that tail? Why did Harrison go from a ball of stress to looking… peaceful?
From the bombshells of existential dread from before, to the pure confusion of what she just saw now, there was a lot to unpack in the short hour she was awake.
- - - - -
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- - - - -
Tracy woke up groggily, the story within her dreams was quickly forgotten, but the thunderous booms, gunshots, faint roars, and harrowing yells within it were still remembered. It was much different than the quiet she was enveloped in now. The soreness in her bones gnawed at her through the half-slumbering state she was in, while painful pulses echoed from the soles of her feet. She tossed and turned within the loose sheets, trying unsuccessfully to return to where everything didn’t hurt. At least she could sleep in for a little…
No, she had to get to the others. The more she walked, the closer she was to comfort, right? The bed she was in was already so comfortable though… She couldn’t even feel the stiff forest floor, or hear any wind. It was so nice. Surely, the painful journey could be postponed another few minutes—her drones weren’t even beeping obnoxiously in her ear, so she was given some leeway to rest, right?
Wait, her drones weren’t beeping? Why was there even a bed this comfortable in the wild?
Her eyes shot open, instantly suffering from the floodlights of the industrially built ceiling searing her retinas until she could cover them with her forearm. The urge to hiss like a vampire went ignored as she sat up, shying away from the blindingly bright light and using her limb as an improvised visor. It took a second to finish blinking away the spots in her vision, but once they were gone, she could finally make out the details of her surroundings through the heavy squint of annoyance.
Yep, definitely not a forest.
The massive, rectangular, and machine-filled room met her bleary regard, a purposefully placed barricade of flipped metal tables squaring off the portion she resided in. Her bed was on the side opposite the door, not too far from stacks of thermally regulated food boxes, metal jugs of water, and some medical supplies tucked behind the waist-high wall. Her stomach sank when she considered the possibility that she could have dreamt the whole trek through the woods, or maybe she just lost her damned mind from isolation and decided to remodel the cargo bay. Sadly—and as wonderful as it was to pretend that she hadn’t been hunted down by an arachnophobe’s worst nightmare—the lack of her equipment, missing cargo crates, and the unforgiving illumination that would have been long since ripped apart for spare electronics told her that she was indeed not in Kansas anymore.
She slowly got used to how bright it was, moving her ongoing inspection away from the room at large and towards her smaller half, only to freeze when she caught sight of that thing.
A long, meaty tail swung lazily outside of its denim pants, the tip ending in shark-like fins. Olive-colored skin covered the rest of the creature’s relatively open body. Four, not two, whole arms extended out of its torso, ending in sharp claws, and a… Hold on, was that a fucking double barrel? Was she captured and being held prisoner by some sort of fucked up scalie-hillbilly cosplay convention or something? What the hell was happening? Why was there an alien standing right next to her with a gun? How was there an alien in the first place? What the fuck happened to her journey? Where the fuck was she?
The half-argonian, half-shark suddenly moved, opening its maw widely and exhaling, revealing two offset rows of very sharp teeth.
A short ‘eep’ escaped the technician, followed by a shiver down her spine. Please tell her it didn’t hear that…
The creature turned around enough for one of its eyes to meet her own.
It definitely heard that.
The alien jumped back as soon as she did. Her head hit the cold metal wall, the thump of her skull leaving behind a dull throb. Her back pressed up against the ruined escape route, making as much distance as possible between her and the piercing orange gaze of the intensely focused…thing. She was a split second from discovering if her bladder or her lungs would expel their contents first when she heard a voice in her head, the sound never reaching her ears.
“O-Oh, g-greetings, Ershan-sent. Uhm, I see you have awoken.”
She stopped pressing against the wall altogether, blankly gazing at the creature while she revisited the ‘lost her damn marbles’ theory of before. After a few moments of its uncomfortable shifting, she hesitantly pulled her stomach from her throat enough to speak, her voice squeaking out. “…What… are you?”
The creature looked back and scanned the massive room behind itself for a second, seemingly checking for something before returning its focus to her. It passed off the break-action firearm from one side of hands to the other, straightening its posture somewhat. “I-I am a Malkrin… A-A male, of course. I go by ‘Craftsman.’”
“You… You can talk? Like, I’m talking…and you can understand me?”
“I… Yes? I am indeed capable of conversation.”
Smoke could have come out of her ears with all the gears grinding away in her head. He was talking. A live, moving, breathing, and alien-looking alien! There wasn’t a hint of bad special effects makeup either! Sure, she was completely blindsided by the complete normalcy of its… his speech, which made the anxiety of not knowing what was going on easier to deal with, but a certain slab of metal in its hands drew her eye, and offered a sobering reminder her of how little she knew about the situation.
“So, uhm, Craftsman…? W-Where am I?”
The green-skinned being held two arms out wide, gesturing to the building around them like some priest would their church. “You are within the star-sent’s castle. He brought you here last night before the blood-moon… I would wager that his assistance was needed; you slept right through it all.”
Okay, that brought up more questions than answers… “Star-sent?”
“Harrison, the creator. The high one uses his skilled mind and many machines to create all that you see before you.” Its enthusiasm waned, a hint of hesitancy coloring its tone. “I was under the impression you were familiar with him, are you not?”
She slid down the wall, the pressure on her shoulders fading at the mention of another pioneer. Her knees pulled back to her chest, her arms wrapping around them. “Harrison? Oh, thank God. I thought this was… N-Never mind. What’s he doing right now? Where are the others?”
“Indeed, I too thank the God of this land for his benevolence in bringing me to the star-sent,” Craftsman agreed with a nod, her positive reaction reinfusing confidence into his speech. “But I digress, the high one and the others are cleaning up the final stragglers of last night’s horde as we speak. I presume they will be back shortly.”
A quiet few moments passed as she gathered her thoughts, a string of uncertainty still tied to her chest. “So… uh, is it just you here? What’s… What’s with the gun?”
The… Malkrin? shook his head, gesturing to something out of Tracy’s vision along the wall she sat against. “I have been tasked to guard you and my mate until the group is sure there are no more beasts within the meadow; the weapon is in service of such.”
“Your what…?” she breathed, her head turning to where he pointed. Another, much larger Malkrin laid on a raised medical bed, watching the exchange passively. A lot of the being was covered in a white blanket, but Tracy could still see the dark skin, long snout, four arms, and triangular ears of the alien. A tail was laid atop its lap, short fins interspersed between its length, leading to an end suited for swimming similar to Craftsman’s. The ‘mate’ was silently observing, sluggishly bringing an arm out of its—her?— blanket to gently wave. “I didn’t know you were… there… H-Hello.”
The black being smiled lightly, offering a polite nod in return, but remained silent.
“Do not take her for reticent, Ershan-sent. She is incapable of speaking for the time being, since she has recently awoken from a coma. However, her spirits are certainly not tainted,” Craftsman touted, adding a short wink toward his other.
Tracy frowned, sympathetic, but not quite sure how to take the information. “Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It is no matter. Thanks to the star-sent, she is alive, and that is worth more than anything I can ask for.”
Thanks to the star-sent? That’s Harrison, right? Just what was that engineer getting up to while she was locked in the cargo bay? While she was messing around with the radio and R.C. cars, he was out here meeting and healing actual fucking aliens. She held her palms up, stopping anything the green Malkrin was ready to say, slowly standing up off the mattress.
“Wait wait wait wait wait wait… Wait, Mr. Craftsman. How… can we even talk? How do you understand English? How can I understand you? You’re not even using your mouth.”
“Ah, that is quite simple. You are receiving my intent and sharing your own—”
A loud thump echoed through the room loud enough to drone out any other noise, Tracy and the other two’s attention turning towards the doorway on the other side of the barricade. A human that she couldn’t immediately recognize had dropped his stuffed rucksack by the door and stumbled toward her corner, but her attention was stolen by his outfit before she could commit brainpower to play mental guess who.
He wore a familiar guardsman’s armor, donning an open-face helmet made with the same steel-ceramic texture. Slightly reddened gauze was wrapped around one of his shoulders, ending just before a gas mask that hung underneath his limply swaying arm—said appendage being absolutely covered with small scars and crusted blood from clotting cuts. Equipment and hardware littered his dark-green splattered chest rig, ranging from flares and tool-box implements to knives and first-aid kit materials. Everything was outdone in size by the loosely held firearm and the belt of massive shells extending out from its side. The weapon looked like nothing she had ever seen before, swinging side to side from a sling as he ambled forward, its bulk slightly obscuring the numerous full pockets lining his muddied pants.
Was that… Harrison? Even if she didn’t have many conversations with him, she knew the man liked his cargo space—enough to get into a somewhat heated discussion about it with the other pioneers, anyway.
She dragged her focus back up to his face, noticing his glossy eyes and the black bags underneath. His expression almost seemed to want to melt off his skull, the long breaths and unsteady gait telling of exhaustion. His short but growing beard that straddled his chin and sparsely grew along his jaws didn’t help the ‘please let me clock out even though it’s nine A.M.’ look either. The engineer took his helmet off as he approached, holding it within the armpit of his good shoulder. The head armor was covered in scratches, appearing to deform a little on the back… almost like it was gnawed on. She just stared, trepidation mixing with a hell of a lot of relief to create a pit in her stomach, applying pressure to the sides of her head. Little spots of soreness behind her eyes flared up, begging for a river to flow out from them.
“Craftsman, please tell me you miraculously learned how to put a pot of coffee on…” Harrison pleaded tiredly. He rubbed his eyes, autopilot apparently being the only thing keeping him upright.
The alien shook his head. “I-I am afraid not. I do not know what you speak of.”
The human finally trudged up to the metal barricade, hopping over sluggishly. “Ehh, it's fine. Let's just hope it cooks up before I collapse, because I’ve been up for wayyy too long and the stims are wearing… off…”
His eyes locked with Tracy’s, his train of thought visibly screeching to a halt.
“Oh… H-Hey, Tracy. You’re awake. For how long?”
She approached him anxiously, stopping a meter or two in front of the man and looking up at him with uncertainty, unsure if she was just seeing a ghost or not. Everything she had planned to say when she finally met the others crumbled instantly, her voice croaking out an overwhelmed response. “Hi. N-Not long. I didn’t think that… S-Sorry, let me s-start again. I… You… How are…”
Her vision blurred as all the built-up stress, anxiety, loneliness, and suffering attempted to pour out through molten tears. The journey hadn’t prepared her for the way the floor would be dropped out from under her as soon as she saw someone else. She had been stuck in that dark corner of the cargo bay for so long… So, so long… Her entire existence was focused on how she would somehow make it to where the others were. Every time a thread of worry broke into her mind, she simply swept it under the metaphorical rug, pushing herself to work until she couldn’t, then filling in everything else with mindless entertainment.
Now, all of it came tumbling down. Nearly a month of emotions caught up on seeing a familiar face for the first time since everything went up in flames. Christ, the four days spent walking with her stress at the max and barely stumbling between the hordes of death had only amplified it all. Like a focusing crystal, she broke at the slightest semblance of something normal, even if it was only just a tired and bruised human.
Tracy stepped back and wiped the building dampness from her eyes, taking in the uncomfortable-looking engineer. She could finally see the separation between what she saw last and what she saw now. “You… What did I miss? I couldn’t have been in the cargo bay for that long, right? The ship crashed like what, less than a month ago? What happened? ”
He put the helmet down on the barricade behind him, tiredly rubbing his entire face with both hands. “That… is a long story. Sorry, do you mind if I make some coffee beforehand? I can explain… some things over breakfast, I guess.”
“I…” She shrugged, shaking her head. “I quite literally have no stake in anything right now. Do whatever. I’ll be here… with a few questions I guess.”
Harrison’s legs didn’t move, his focus lingering on her for a few more seconds. A rough blink broke him out of it when he noticed her confusion, mud-stained fingers coming up to scratch at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, it’s just… odd seeing another human after seeing only Malkrin for so long. I’m uh, glad to see you’re okay…” He stood in place for a second longer. “…I’ll start the coffee, just ah, gimme a minute.”
He stepped past her as she stared blankly into space, his words slowly being processed in her mind. Her pondering came screeching to a halt when they all added up. She turned toward where the man was fiddling with the assumed coffee machine on an upright table away from where the aliens were resting, both focused on each other instead of her interaction with Harrison.
She took a few steps closer to him, trying to find some excuse for the way he phrased things that weren’t… that. “…What do you mean ‘odd seeing another human?’”
The man froze, a sharp inhale just barely audible. He closed his eyes, a haggard yet frustrated look drawing over his face, as his gaze met hers, his hands on the edge of the table. She raised her arms in innocence.
“D-Did I say something? I-I’m sorry if I misinterpreted somethi—”
“You didn’t misinterpret anything,” he drawled, a grave inflection growing over what once was run-of-the-mill exhaustion. “Before I tell you anything, I need you to understand that it’s just us two.”
“Just us what? Like… we’re the only ones here? In this building?” she coughed out nervously.
His gaze flicked elsewhere, a hand combing through his sweaty hair. “We’re the only humans… on the entire planet, Tracy… Except, well…” His voice trailed off.
“You don’t mean that…”
“They died during the crash—before I woke up,” he stated evenly, not giving her a single ounce of humor or insincerity to trick herself into thinking it was some sort of morbid joke.
Her chest felt tight, forcing her to take in shallow breaths, each exhale leaving with a tremble. It was just the four of them until the colony ship came, and that was already such a low number… And here… it was just him. T-they had a lot of work to do! They had habitats and infrastructure to set up! Hell, it was a daunting task to begin with; how were they even meant to get anything done with just the two of them?
“So… they’re… gone?” she choked out, pushing down the panic swirling up from her chest. “It’s just you here? I… How have you… That can’t be…”
“Yes! I know!” he snapped back. “ It’s just fucking… me. I told you it’s a long Goddamn story.”
His back straightened as he stood up, taking in deep breaths. A long moment of stunned silence permeated the room, his low voice calmly returning.
“…Sorry. It’s been an eventful few days. Weeks even…”
A small ding came from the coffee maker, catching both her and his attention. He exhaled sharply, grabbing a large thermos and letting the black liquid stream into it, slowly filling the air with its earthy aroma. “I’ll go get some food and water for you while you…” He cleared his throat. “…let that settle. Feel free to sit wherever.”
She nodded hesitantly, walking over to a warm vent nested near the corner. The ambient heat of the air was nice, helping to soothe the soreness stretching through her legs. She brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and rocking herself ever so slightly as she poorly attempted to purge any thoughts from surfacing. The engineer was saying something to the aliens, but she didn’t listen in; her mind was too busy piecing together what she would do. It was obvious: follow whatever the group was doing. Though, she couldn’t help but feel disconnected and unsure of what was even happening, let alone how she fit into everything.
Her disarrayed thoughts were cut off by the only other human entering her view, pushing an ice-cold water canister and a clear box full of food into her hands. She took them tentatively, watching the man slowly let himself down a meter or so away, slipping out of his heavy vest with a grunt. He drank from his thermos over the course of a minute or two, resting his back against the wall while she stared down at the meal, waiting to build up an appetite after the initial waves of shock passed.
She spoke up first, understanding he wasn’t going to. “H-Hey.”
“Hm?”
“What’s in here, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“It’s all just meat and vegetables. We made a few different types of meals, so I couldn’t tell you what’s actually in there until you take a bite. I would presume either fish or hyena-boar meat,” he mumbled, resting his head against the metal wall.
“Uh, ‘we’?”
“Yeah, Akula helped out with cooking despite complaining about it being a ‘male’s job’ or whatever.”
She set the food to the side, pulling her legs in close enough to rest her chin atop her knees. “So, the aliens—”
“—Malkrin,” he cut her off softly.
“…Malkrin. How did you even… Where did they come from? The drones didn’t see roads or anything in the woods. Do they have, like, underground cities or something? Why are they with you? How did ‘first contact’ go?”
“Ah… first contact, yeah.” A nervous chuckle left him, his hand coming up to rub his neck guiltily. “Those were an… interesting few days. It was just a lot of me being stuck in the barracks, scared shitless about the ten-foot monster outside, and wondering what the hell I was going to do, given that it was just me at the time… Some stuff happened—said ten-foot monster got cold and I helped, we talked a bit, and then fought a blood-moon side-by-side. From there I’ve only met more Malkrin, I guess.
“It probably looks a bit odd from the outside, but besides a few physical details, they’re not that different from humans. For your questions, I figure they’re around Old Earth’s medieval ages in technology, comparatively. We’re on what they call the mainland, which is mostly uninhabited for some reason, but they’re sending people here to colonize it. There are apparently more Malkrin out there, but I’ve only encountered the four.
“Anyway, they’re here with me because there isn’t really any other option for them; they help with labor—and in the craftsman’s case, inventions, I guess—while I make sure they don’t freeze or starve. Of course, it’s not that simple, but… that’s the gist of it.”
He looked at the ceiling for a few seconds before continuing with hesitant words.
“That… actually might not be all the reasons why they’re with me. Since Shar saw the New Horizons fall from the sky in flames, she’s pretty stuck on me being something important to what she calls the Sky Goddess. There’s a lot going on with it that I don’t understand, so I mostly stay out of it, not bringing it up if I don’t have to. I usually don’t have to walk on thin ice with it, but I’ve tried not to mention Sol or anything about it. I don’t wanna broach that subject yet. Maybe you being here will help, but for now, just… act like we fell from the sky.”
She stared back blankly, slowly trying to piece together the situation she found herself in. “That’s… a lot to take in.”
He nodded his understanding of her plight. “Yeah, it’s… It’s a lot. You’ll probably get used to it pretty soon, especially after meeting Shar—she’s pretty amicable.”
“Shar?”
“Yeah, Sharky. She was the first Malkrin I mentioned. She’s been there since day one and all.”
“I see.” She wanted to ask more about the aliens, how they interacted with him, and what they were like, but a string of doubt in her mind told her she was being overbearing with all of her questions, and the last thing she wanted to do was to annoy the only other human around. She was never good at interactions like this… Christ, she practically already cried right in front of him; the tinge of embarrassment had already started to seep in.
He elected not to respond, simply drinking more of his coffee and opening his meal box up to dig in. Its scent wafted her way, grabbing her by the nose and digging up an insatiable hunger for actual food. The slightly sweet, roasted scent of the ribs he ate reminded her of how much she missed eating cooked meals, and the fact that he gave her one.
The seal of the clear container popped off satisfyingly, warmth radiating off the hot meat and vegetables. She used the fork he gave her to shovel the savory cut of the fish-like meat into her mouth, quickly followed up by some grilled zucchini, both flavors dancing in unison across her taste buds.
She felt the mental and physical strain on her body melt away with the first bites, each further cut of food nourishing the drained muscles and bones of her limbs. Maybe it was just her mental state improving, but just eating something that had actual taste helped to brighten her outlook immensely. Where once the dream of human interaction and safety had ushered her forward, a simple bite of meat now ensured she persevered through whatever horrors got between her and the next meal.
Okay… maybe she was being a little bit dramatic, but it was good, okay? It was probably just the dump of dopamine from eating something new. She felt somewhat refreshed from the darkening pit of bombshells dropped on her today, and it was still only morning. She continued to spear the meat and take bites, making sure to take smaller and smaller chunks to preserve the dwindling amount of food.
Her eyes glanced at the engineer beside her every once in a while, taking in the way he fidgeted with his thermos and tapped his foot against the ground. He looked… anxious. Did he want to say something? Did he want to leave? Years without personal interaction would be the death of her…
“Are you, like, stressed… or something?” she blurted out, immediately regretting it. Her hand almost subconsciously came up to smack her forehead in sheer embarrassment.
“No, I just… Did you finish the meal?”
“Yes?”
He quickly downed the rest of his drink, shifting his weight around before standing up. “I’m going to go help out the others with clean-up. You’re free to come and meet them,” he offered flatly, putting his rig back on, making some soft clinks of equipment as he tightened it. “I’ll help you settle in at some point; it’s up to you if you’d prefer to get this part of it done now or later.”
She glanced at the other aliens in the room, who were simply looking at each other, and considered the proposal. Having a little while longer to just… think sounded nice, but maybe being left with all the things she just learned wasn’t the best idea. Plus, she would have to do it eventually, right? Why not just rip the wax off and get to it? Seeing the actual group and their work might clear up a lot more things than just idle—and somewhat awkward—conversation, anyway.
“Uh… yeah, sure. Show me how I can help.” She got to her feet quickly, rotating her stiffening shoulders.
He waved her off. “N-No, I didn’t mean for you to have to join, just to meet Shar and Akula, and then I’ll show you the barracks.”
“Nah, I can help. It’s not like I have anything else to do…”
His hands came up to rub his eyes, failing to wipe away his drained expression. “I’m not gonna argue. I hope you’re comfortable being covered in alien blood. It’s… messy out there.”
Clearly, he misunderstood how she was used to being dirty. Grime, oil, various fuels, and melted plastic didn’t mean anything to her at this point, how bad could it be?
- - - - -
When Harrison said ‘clean up,’ she didn’t think it was going to be… this. The awful odor of rotting flesh and acidic bile infiltrated her nostrils as soon as the workshop’s front door opened. In an act of self preservation, her breaths came in through her mouth; any time she used her nose, she regretted it immediately. The place didn’t look much better than it smelled, either. An array of green-stained spikes surrounded the entrance in several layers, each line stuffed with—
She jumped at the sight of those crab-spider looking things up close. Calming down enough to step foot onto the squishy, blood-filled mud took much longer than she was comfortable admitting, and of course, her boots suddenly became the greatest gift her dad ever gave to her, even if it was kind of… Okay, very disgusting.
Her eyes finally dragged up from the ground and to where the lifeless corpses lay, most looking to have climbed over their impaled brethren to get over the wall of stakes. It was much worse down the center of the entrenchments; droves of bodies were seemingly pushed aside to make a short walkway through the aisle of gore and viscera. Stray chunks of shells and organs littered every square foot of space, only being outdone by the shredded legs of something absolutely massive. Her questions of its origin were quickly answered when a fulminated spider-monster fell off what she assumed *to be a pile of carcasses by its own weight. Boy, she was wrong… The mountain of bodies was actually the ruptured corpse of a massive creature with its entire front half *missing.
The worst part of the whole scene was probably how many were lined up by the front door. Most were the common shelled grunt Tracy had seen terrorizing her drones, but there were a few stick-like creatures, all of which startlingly close to the workshop entrance. Another of the colossal bastards had crashed over the closest barricade, similarly missing a chunk like the first one she saw. It almost looked like it exploded from the inside. She took another step forward, nearly tripping over a ridiculous pile of shotgun shells, their hollow plinking standing out among the soft squishes of footfalls. They littered the ground where she stood, complimented by four empty belt-boxes that would be more at home next to a mounted machine gun.
“W-What happened here?” she asked softly, her eyes nearly glazing over as she stared at the engineer in confusion.
He stepped around a dead grunt. “Blood-moon.”
“Blood-moon?”
“You don’t know?”
A light spark of frustration slipped into her voice. “Dude… I’ve been in a dark, half-flooded cargo bay since we landed! I don’t think it gets any more ‘living under a rock’ than that.”
“Oh… uh, yeah, my bad,” he muttered, clearing his throat and rolling his wrist as he explained. “So every fifteen or so days, the moon turns red, making all the bugs swarm up and attack everything. That’s what happened last night.”
Her eyes widened. “A-And that’s… normal?”
“Of course it’s fucking not!” he barked, spinning on the spot to face her and throwing the arm not burdened by his shotgun into the air. “Nothing on this planet is normal… Here, let’s just… go find the others…” The engineer continued through the hallway of bug corpses, waving for her to follow.
“Y-Yeah,” Tracy stuttered, unsure how to take Harrison’s temper as she tried to catch up. Sure, he was always quick to get worked up, but it wasn’t ever really at anyone else. At least he was equally as ready to simmer down.
He kept looking back at her as they walked, eventually stopping and mumbling an apology. “Sorry about that, there’s just a lot to do here. The clock’s ticking…”
“You’re… fine. I-I get it.”
He hummed his understanding, returning his attention to leaving the viscera-stained area. Her focus stayed on him, her mind connecting everything she heard to the way he acted. His voice raised at the mention of the other crewmates and the blood-moon, he kept pressuring himself to complete the work needed, and… Yeah, just looking at the back of his helmet, she could see the way its metallic-ceramic composition denatured into the shape of gnawing teeth.
It made sense. While she was suffering with the shitty conditions of the cargo bay—and existential dread peering over her shoulder—he was going through his own pains. He was pretty reticent with details of what happened to him, so she could only imagine what the man had seen to grow such an adhering layer of stress.
“HEY!” Harrison called out, stripping her from her thoughts.
She quickly followed his gaze, seeing two massive humanoid creatures ascending the hill, stepping around a few more stray carcasses—they had to have numbered in the hundreds by now. One of the Malkrin was colored dark green, its skin coming to a black along their many hands and head-topped frills. That one held a simplistic-looking weapon and an accompanying quiver full of differing types of bolts. A skin-tight suit covered its chest, holding a lot of seemingly waterproof pockets and loose medical equipment scattered over the material. There were even some zippers for more cargo space within its tight leggings, following in the storage-inclined human’s footsteps.
Her R.C. drone trudged up the hill as well, its upgraded wheels managing to find some grip in the mud. It appeared to be locked on and tracking the second alien, which was a good foot-and-a-half or two taller than the first, holding a massive orange shield with a mad-max looking bull bar that was lined with spikes and plenty of green gore. The being was also covered from shoulders to feet in… armor… Huh.
Wait a minute. The copper eagle across the chest plate, the line of spikes that ran up from wrist to tricep, and the scaled fauld were all things she remembered fondly; she knew all of it very well, because she remembered spending weeks modeling it.
“Um, H-Hey, Harrison…?”
He stopped waving the two Malkrin down, looking over at the technician. “Hm?”
Her words came out rapidly from growing excitement pooling in her veins. “Do you think you could possibly explain why there’s a giant shark wearing the chaos armor I designed, with a shield big enough to be classified as a wall for city building regulations?”
He smirked for a moment before shaking it off, the gears in his head turning. “Your design?”
She swapped her weight from foot to foot, her own smile barely held down. Her attention was put entirely on the approaching Malkrin, watching how the pieces of armor moved smoothly with each step and swing of the alien’s arms. “Yeah, my design! I never expected to see it… you know, in person. And by a four-armed alien nonetheless! It’s… Holy shit, this is awesome…”
“Wait, so that folder…”
Her eyes met with his. “I knew someone was making use of my models! I just didn’t expect… Hey, wait. That guardsman armor you’re wearing, you printed that out from the folder I uploaded too, huh?”
His palm was held up pleadingly, but a look of admiration crossed his face. “H-Hold on. So, that folder was uploaded by you? The one with the fantasy armor and big… ‘bolters’—or whatever they were called. That was you?”
She nodded vigorously. “Tell me you’ve printed out a bolter already! Ah… Actually, that’s probably not a good idea since the bullets weren’t ever tested outside of some free online ballistics program… S-Still! I never thought I’d be seeing the chaos armor on something that could actually wear it. Did you try the daedric armor? What about the Eldar?”
“I only needed one set of armor, and there aren’t nearly enough resources to make any more than that. Though I will admit that what she’s wearing has served her pretty well, taking a good few hits and going strong. Shar takes good care of it too—scrubbing blood off of it and smoothing out anywhere it gets damaged. I’ve only had to recycle and reprint one piece so far.”
The two Malkrin finally crossed the distance with the well-armored one coming close. Too close. Tracy backed up as the massive alien took a knee right in front of her. It was still nearly a foot taller than her after, but the technician’s awe at the being’s size was quickly drowned out by a baritone, almost angelic feminine voice taking over her own internal monologue.
“Greetings Ershan-sent. Forgive me for be—g unavailable when you awoke. I pray this paladin will be acceptable to the Goddess’ chosen as a viable prot—tor.”
Tracy stared at the giant shark person, then at Harrison, a confused and pleading look overcoming her visage. He gazed back at her expectantly, nodding his head toward the alien like it was some expected ritual. That didn’t help one bit.
She swallowed, locking her focus with the glowing orange eyes of the tall zealot. Her words came out hesitantly, the fear of saying the wrong thing suddenly flaring up. “I… am glad to have your… protection…?”
The paladin bowed her head. “I sh—l see to it. Your breath shall never cease so l—g as I draw my own”
Tracy felt her hands begin to fidget, her mind left blank yet filled to the brim at the same time, completely incapable of processing a proper response. Harrison thankfully cut the silence with his voice as he approached the maroon-colored alien.
“So, how’d the hunt go? Did you find any scavengers?”
“We did ind—d. Akula and I have culled two swarms of five, both approach—g from the direction of the swamps,” the paladin confirmed.
“She is neglecting to mention that I slaughtered three with one fulminating bolt of my speargun,” the green one interjected with a smirk, receiving a scowl from the other alien.
“Hey, those bolts will do damage, I’m glad to see you using them properly. Anyway, swamps, you said? I’ll keep a note of that. So, do you want to rest up before we start cleaning up this mess we made?” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the mounds of bug carcasses.
A sort of chitter came from the taller Malkrin, an odd smile breaching her cheeks. “It is a mess you have made y—rself, with your mystical implements of destruction.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m serious though, I’d like to get this done so we can get to work on the million other things we need to finish in the next fifteen days,” he shot back.
A maroon tail worked its way over his shoulder, not too unlike a reassuring hand. His posture relaxed at the touch, his weary eyes seeming to soften. “You n—d not stress so much over it, we shall c—plete it swiftly. Especi—ly with the assistance of others.”
His free hand rubbed the length of her appendage absently. “Alright, get something to eat first though. You haven’t eaten anything all night, and I know how you get after combat.”
“But of c—rse. I am grateful for your consid—ation, I shall not be long.”
“Alright, same goes for you too, Akula.” He nodded in the direction of the other alien.
The two Malkrin left for the workshop without any extra words, their stride showing long-winded exhaustion. The reconnaissance done she sent out drove a few loops around them in a way just as adorable as she imagined when she programmed it.
He finally turned to address the frozen technician. “I guess I should show you around a little bit before we get to the first job of the day.”
“Y-Yeah,” Tracy responded slowly, trying to piece together the interactions she just witnessed.
What was the snappy back and forth between the two aliens about? How far back did Harrison and the paladin go? What was up with that tail? Why did Harrison go from a ball of stress to looking… peaceful?
From the bombshells of existential dread from before, to the pure confusion of what she just saw now, there was a lot to unpack in the short hour she was awake.
- - - - -
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Next time on Total Drama Anomaly Island - I'm literally Guts from Berserk
2024.02.16 20:41 yoniyum 3WPO hysterectomy experience and tips (LONG!)
This sub was incredibly helpful for my surgery preparation, including mental and emotional prep, so I want to give back by sharing my story and answering questions that anyone might have. I hope everyone is having or will have an uneventful surgery and recovery process!
Surgery Details:
1/26/24 laparoscopic hysterectomy with robot assist, everything removed except left ovary (uterus, cervix, both tubes, right ovary), age 47 and was already post-menopausal. Diagnosis of atypical endometrial hyperplasia (AEH) was the reason for surgery. Had lots of bleeding and pain the past year due to the AEH - pretty much everyday for the last six months.
My surgery experience was – odd to say – nice. I’ll give more details on the actual surgery if anyone wants it. They gave me a dose of Versed after I met with the surgeon and anesthesia team, so I don’t remember anything after them starting to wheel me out of the room until I woke up post-op. That’s how I wanted it.
I watched YouTube videos of similar procedures and this calmed my anxiety more than anything else. Knowing exactly what would happen and why during the procedure took away my fear of the unknown. I also watched Michelle Kenway’s YouTube videos about hysterectomy recovery and recommend them, especially the one about getting out of bed. I also recommend doing leg exercises everyday post-op for the first few days to prevent blood clots.
Recovery:
My recovery thus far has been uneventful and much easier than I anticipated. I feel lucky and grateful. I am not particularly healthy or unhealthy other than the AEH that led to the surgery, although I am very overweight. I expected to be mostly useless physically and mentally post-op and neither was the case, even the first night. I was home by 5:45 p.m. and napped for a couple of hours, then I was up and walking around (very carefully). I have only been in bed to sleep at night and have spent my days on my reclining sofa or in my desk chair.
Things I credit with my easy recovery: bowel prep and sheer freaking luck. I think you can do everything right and your body will still rebel.
Some tidbits from the notes I took on my recovery notepad:
(Please discuss bowel prep with your surgeon and don’t just follow the advice of some stranger on Reddit but here is my experience.) I was not required to do bowel prep but choose to do so anyway, with approval from my surgery team. I decided to do it to help avoid accidental nicks or other damage and because I suspected that I had adhesions to my colon, etc. It turned out that I did, and the surgeon was able to remove them.
I absolutely credit bowel prep with some of the ease of my recovery. I had no constipation and no gas pains. None. I pooped 1DPO with no issues or pain.
I used this method: https://pacificendometriosis.com/bowel-prep/ but I also started a daily laxative about 5 days pre-op.
For my clear liquids, I drank bone broth, apple juice, coconut water, and Ensure Clear Nutrition drink in addition to the Powerades that I drank my Miralax in. I kept my laxative Powerades at room temperature rather than refrigerated because it was easier to chug down. At one point during the prep day, I did feel dizzy, lightheaded and weird but I was mostly fine by the next morning for surgery. I absolutely was pooping out everything until it was literally just clear water coming out. I used a peri bottle which helped with soreness. I had Vaseline in case I needed it but I didn't. The Vaseline was a suggestion from a friend who had recently done bowel prep for a colonoscopy. I also used wet wipes which helped with soreness.
Things to bring to the hospital:
submitted by yoniyum to hysterectomy [link] [comments]
Surgery Details:
1/26/24 laparoscopic hysterectomy with robot assist, everything removed except left ovary (uterus, cervix, both tubes, right ovary), age 47 and was already post-menopausal. Diagnosis of atypical endometrial hyperplasia (AEH) was the reason for surgery. Had lots of bleeding and pain the past year due to the AEH - pretty much everyday for the last six months.
My surgery experience was – odd to say – nice. I’ll give more details on the actual surgery if anyone wants it. They gave me a dose of Versed after I met with the surgeon and anesthesia team, so I don’t remember anything after them starting to wheel me out of the room until I woke up post-op. That’s how I wanted it.
I watched YouTube videos of similar procedures and this calmed my anxiety more than anything else. Knowing exactly what would happen and why during the procedure took away my fear of the unknown. I also watched Michelle Kenway’s YouTube videos about hysterectomy recovery and recommend them, especially the one about getting out of bed. I also recommend doing leg exercises everyday post-op for the first few days to prevent blood clots.
Recovery:
My recovery thus far has been uneventful and much easier than I anticipated. I feel lucky and grateful. I am not particularly healthy or unhealthy other than the AEH that led to the surgery, although I am very overweight. I expected to be mostly useless physically and mentally post-op and neither was the case, even the first night. I was home by 5:45 p.m. and napped for a couple of hours, then I was up and walking around (very carefully). I have only been in bed to sleep at night and have spent my days on my reclining sofa or in my desk chair.
Things I credit with my easy recovery: bowel prep and sheer freaking luck. I think you can do everything right and your body will still rebel.
Some tidbits from the notes I took on my recovery notepad:
- 2DPO a.m.: some cuff pain even with meds (a.m.); worst pain so far, in lower abdomen (p.m.)
- 3DPO: throat barely sore anymore; extremely cold feet; have noticed labia are swollen, inflamed, and kinda itchy; first time noticing “phantom tampon” sensation
- 4DPO: freezing legs and feet; weird fluttering spasms for hours in what I think is my colon; absolutely feel like my cuff is just drooping and will fall right out of me; stopped taking Percocet and only taking OTC pain meds
- 5DPO: first time I can tell when I need to pee since surgery; first fart that wasn’t part of pooping (YES, I made note of this because it’s just abnormal for me); first “real” food that wasn’t just a snack of some sort; very cold feet, legs, and arms; sore cuff from sitting upright in chair
- 6DPO: started trying to take lower doses of OTC pain meds but keep 4-hour consistency
- 7DPO: tried not waking up in the middle of the night to take OTC pain meds and this was a mistake, was very sore in the morning
- 8DPO: very restless; made the mistake of opening our freezer drawer and heating up chicken nuggets in the oven and my lower abdomen was extremely sore so I took a Percocet; also made a seemingly insignificant move doing something else and my upper abs and right ribcage muscles were super sore - this was the worst day for pain so far at this point in my recovery
- 10DPO: did not wake up in the middle of the night to take pain meds and was fine
- 11DPO: slightly sore upper abs from helping change a door knob
- 13DPO: first driving experience, about 10 total miles, and going into 2 small stores for about 5-10 minutes each. I was SO SORE in my cuff, lower abs, upper abs. I also had sharp, shooting pain in my lower right abdomen where my stupid ovary used to be. I’ve had some pain there on other days since,, but doc says we can’t diagnose until my recovery has finished. This was my worst day for pain throughout my entire recovery so far through 3WPO.
- 2WPO: have greatly decreased pain med dosage and frequency; had to drive about 10 miles again for first post-op doc check-up, tried to use my core a lot less this time and that helped; noticed stitches protruding slightly from incisions for the first time. At this check-up, it’s the first time my doc ever told me a weight limit for lifting (15 pounds) or that I should not be bending. I wouldn’t have known either if not for this sub. Labia are STILL inflamed, doc says this is not cause for concern because of the vaginal removal of uterus, etc. (I should note that I have a skin condition that makes me very sensitive to friction on my skin.)
- 2.5WPO: I let my 15-pound cuddly dog lie on my stomach for a couple of minutes and it made me very sore but was so worth it. I’m going to wait longer until letting her do it again, though.
- 3WPO: only taking OTC pain meds once a day; longer tolerance to sitting upright in a chair before cuff soreness (a few hours a day with frequent walking breaks)
(Please discuss bowel prep with your surgeon and don’t just follow the advice of some stranger on Reddit but here is my experience.) I was not required to do bowel prep but choose to do so anyway, with approval from my surgery team. I decided to do it to help avoid accidental nicks or other damage and because I suspected that I had adhesions to my colon, etc. It turned out that I did, and the surgeon was able to remove them.
I absolutely credit bowel prep with some of the ease of my recovery. I had no constipation and no gas pains. None. I pooped 1DPO with no issues or pain.
I used this method: https://pacificendometriosis.com/bowel-prep/ but I also started a daily laxative about 5 days pre-op.
For my clear liquids, I drank bone broth, apple juice, coconut water, and Ensure Clear Nutrition drink in addition to the Powerades that I drank my Miralax in. I kept my laxative Powerades at room temperature rather than refrigerated because it was easier to chug down. At one point during the prep day, I did feel dizzy, lightheaded and weird but I was mostly fine by the next morning for surgery. I absolutely was pooping out everything until it was literally just clear water coming out. I used a peri bottle which helped with soreness. I had Vaseline in case I needed it but I didn't. The Vaseline was a suggestion from a friend who had recently done bowel prep for a colonoscopy. I also used wet wipes which helped with soreness.
Things to bring to the hospital:
- Some way of putting your hair up for surgery if it’s long. My nurse recommended that I use the scrunchy I had brought for just in case because she said longer hair tends to get knotty during the surgery
- Vaseline Lip Therapy for pre- and post-op
- Slip-on shoes that you can wear with socks. I didn’t feel like taking off the non-slip surgery socks they put on me. I wore slides.
- Seatbelt pillow
- Towel or other protection for car seat
- Ask for barf bags before you leave
- I wore a long maxi dress and an oversized jacket so I didn’t have to try to put on pants or a bra or panties before going home.
- I had an outpatient surgery but I did leave a packed hospital bag in the car in case I needed to stay overnight or longer.
- Heating pad - I used mine so much that I purchased a second one so I could leave one plugged in by the sofa and one plugged in by the bed. I had to use a pillow to keep it weighted down so I could feel the warmth, so if you can splurge for a weighted heating pad, I recommend that.
- Grabber - I used this to pick up anything I dropped on the floor (which I do a lot), do the dog’s food and water bowls, do light loads of laundry, etc. I wound up getting a second grabber that folds in half so I could keep it on my nightstand by my bed.
- Laxatives and stool softeners - I did one dose of Miralax powder mixed into 20-ounce Powerade bottles - one of these everyday for the first week or so after surgery until I felt like I’d be able to go on my own. I am still taking stool softeners but will be stopping them soon.
- Chloraseptic throat spray
- Peri bottle
- Ibuprofen and acetaminophen - I alternated these every four hours without fail, even in the middle of the night. I was prescribed Percocets (oxycodone/acetaminophen) to alternate with ibuprofen at first, but I got off of those by 4DPO.
- Applesauce pouches - I kept some of these by my bed so I could quickly eat one every time I took meds. I just ate them at room temperature.
- A small notepad and pen kept bedside so I could track every time I took a med plus any observations I had in my first couple of weeks of recovery.
- AZO and cranberry juice for prevention of UTI after catheter and to help with any potential pain
- Hibiclens for pre- and post-surgery showers
- Nightgowns - I only started being able to tolerate wearing anything with a waistband, even stretchy, at around 2.5WPO. I could wear waistbands but I was SO MUCH more comfortable without them and noticed less ab soreness. I don’t sleep in nightgowns, but OMG they’re so comfy I’m going to start changing into them as soon as I get home from work from now on, lol.
- A sturdy chair to grab on to to help stabilize you when getting out of bed
- A cane to help with stability getting around my house the few days, especially with a dog who likes to be underfoot. It also gave me something to lean on when getting on and off the toilet, sofa, bed, etc.
- Cheap rugs by the toilets, sofas, etc., to help give me more traction under my feet when I got up.
- Hysterectomy pillow - I spent $30+ on this and I really didn’t need to. Yes, you need a pillow for your car ride home. I also needed pillows to keep my cuddly dog from jumping on me. But I didn’t need a special pillow for that. BTW, my 30-minute ride home from the hospital was ROUGH even with the pillow.
- Loofah on a stick
- Ensure nutrition drinks since I didn’t feel like eating much the first few days
- Pushing my bed against the wall (pre-op, of course) allowed me to have pillows for support on both sides of me so I could side sleep by 2DPO.
- Clindamycin antibiotic gel - I used this externally, on my labia, daily. I already had a prescription due to other gyn issues. It helped soothe the inflammation, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt with preventing infection on the cuff either.
- Hydrocortisone cream for some tiny blisters I got from a Band-Aid I put over one of my incisions when the steri strip fell off.
- Blow dryer to dry your wounds after showering
- Soothing eye gel for post-op because they tape your eyelids shut
- Spirometer - I got pneumonia after anesthesia once in the past. It could’ve been coincidental. I didn’t want to take a chance this time, so I got a cheap spirometer to make sure I was breathing deeply enough post-op.
- A wedge pillow - I sleep on one every night anyway so I can’t say it helped with recovery per se but I was never uncomfortable trying to sleep.
- Throat Coat tea - This didn’t do anything to soothe my throat although others recommend it. I got the lemon echinacea one instead of the original slippery elm one so that could be why.
- peppermint tea, ginger tea, Smooth Move tea - just didn’t need them
- Gas-X - I had no gas issues or pain, even lapro gas. My surgeon expelled the lapro gas from me post-op. I’m not sure Gas-X would’ve worked on the lapro gas anyway.
- Ice packs - I had these on hand to help with incision pain or itching but did not experience either
- Dog peepee pads - I luckily had no bleeding or other leakage post-op.
- Barf bags - The scopolamine patch they applied at the hospital pre-op prevented all nausea for me. I left it on for three days, since they said that’s how long the medicine would last. I had nausea and vomiting after anesthesia before, so I very much wanted to avoid it after this operation.
- Wound care items - my incisions thankfully did not need any special care other than I made sure to blow dry them after showering
- Compression socks
- Donut pillow - This did nothing for me to help with cuff soreness from sitting upright and just made my back hurt.
- Neck pillow
- Basket to haul my stuff (meds, etc.) from one place to another. I just kept everything by my bed and walked in there when I needed something.
2024.02.16 03:29 Blursed-Penguin No Rest for the Wicked: Finale, Part II
FirstPreviousWiki
When the word finally reached Alpha Centauri, and, by extension, Rapier, he wanted to find a corner, curl into a ball, and cry in it. Just like that, everything he’d ever known was gone; the Combine was but a memory, and their culture would soon be as well. He held no expectation that humanity would allow the Poslushi to continue in a state as alien as they were. Still, if CAST was being honest, the end of the war would mean prisoner exchanges; he just didn’t know if there would be a Combine to come home to.
Rapier, instead of giving in to impulse, stood a little taller, adjusted his uniform, and pushed the door to his barracks open, stepping out into the large clearing that filled the center of the camp. It was packed to the rafters with people, Poslushi and otherwise, crowding around a single hastily-set-up registration station. Sighing, Rapier marched forth and descended into the rabble, moving with a strength and grace that pushed aside lesser individuals.
It only took him twenty or thirty minutes to get registered, while people who had been there for an hour longer wouldn’t see a desk for hours more. After that, it was a day before the first ships were loaded, and two weeks from Alpha Centauri to Poslush. Rapier was so excited to come home that he barely noticed that he was living with nine other people in one quarters, or that, when he finally touched down in Sunsword’s Triumph, people were sitting at the sides of the streets, begging for food from the human troops patrolling around them. He didn’t notice the Ford Initiative’s recruiting kiosk as he passed it, offering freedom from the looming famine in exchange for a work contract in Planetech’s asteroid fields. He barely registered the pair of Euro-Cath missionaries distributing alms as he brushed past them, or the soldiers in gas masks lowering themselves one by one into the sewers, clutching their submachine guns tightly.
Once Rapier had gotten his bearings about him and made the collaboration government aware of his identity, arranging a meeting was elementary. Soon, he found himself called up to the palace which, though it didn’t look any different, Rapier had an inexplicable feeling had somehow changed. Waiting outside the office of what the collaborators had called a “prime minister,” Rapier took a few deep breaths, trying to collect his thoughts. Imagining that the Combine didn’t exist anymore, at least not in its previous form, was almost impossible to even comprehend. Already, there was talk that when the Combine’s old territory had been wrested from the warlords, there would be referendums in all territories to see if their people wanted out. Even if the humans allowed the Combine to exist at all, it would be butchered.
The individual within the room coughed loudly. “Enter,” she called, and Rapier pushed open the door, seeing a towering Poslushi female with a copper exoskeleton and an air of youth about her. “Rapier of the Idrisat Brood,” the Prime Minister regarded him with curiosity, “I’ve finally put a face to the name. Spatha of the Oxilini Brood, Prime Minister of the Provisional State of Poslush, at your service, sir.”
Rapier bowed. “Greetings. I’m here to apply for a job.”
“So I hear; your public image’ll be of use to the government.” said Spatha, pointing a pen at a propaganda sheet pinned to the wall of Rapier and several other heroes of the Recivilization of Omen raising their sabers as one. Rapier couldn’t help but sigh with nostalgia. “Not to mention that none of the old guards of the nobility will be caught dead taking up a ministry.”
Spatha started, realizing something. “You’re a people person, aren’t you? How’s Minister of Communications sound?”
Rapier’s antennae raised, then lowered further down than before. He narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry?”
“Have I read you wrong?” Spatha said, the air smelling mildly of embarrassment. “Oh, no, no, ma’am, it’s just,” Rapier gestured, flustered, at his body, “a ministry isn’t a job one such as I should have.”
Spatha’s antennae lowered in frustration. “Don’t tell me you’re that conservative, Rapier,” she reassured him, “males have a place in government too!”
“You know the science, of course,” Rapier said, trying not to recall his... particular experiences with Wakizashi, “a male that takes on a female’s job has the tendency to act as she would, and–”
“Rapier,” Spatha said, a sudden change in her tone shocking Rapier into silence, “I can’t find a female to do this job, or any job, for that matter; the noble broods have all boycotted the government. If I can’t find someone to do it, CAST is going to put a human into the role, and they’ll do what’s in CAST’s best interests, not ours. If you want to shrink back into your gender roles, do it after you’ve stopped this country from being colonized, alright?”
Well, when she put it that way...
Rapier bowed once more, lowering himself almost to a right angle. “I shall not disappoint you, Your Dominance.”
“It’s ‘Mistress Prime Minister,’” Spatha corrected him, then took on a pensive look, the air filling with something approaching dread, “and ancestors hope you don’t.”
—
Wham, whack, THUMP!
“A little faster, Darren!” the therapist called, goading Darren along. Darren took a second or two to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his brow, then descended on the punching bag once again, starting off with a strong left jab into a rapid sequence of punches, finishing off with a right hook before steadying himself against his own momentum and delivering a kick from his left leg that left the stand rattling as he stepped back once more. The feeling that he had regained control over his own body was one he’d never forget; the doctors said he was recovering wonderfully, considering the nerve damage the poison had done to him. Even now, after so many weeks of restoration therapy, he had difficulty feeling from his fingertips.
“Again?” Darren looked at the trainer; he nodded and Darren began the motions again. The war had ended without him; it was a shame he couldn’t be there to see the flag raised over Sunsword’s Triumph in person. He’d even recognized the kid who had done the raising; it was the same person to direct his first action against the Combine eight months previously. Darren had to suppress a chuckle; the German was really getting places in the world.
“Staff Sergeant Hardwell!” a voice called from the entrance to the hospital’s gym. Darren stopped in his tracks, looking over to see a sharp-looking man in Army camo, bearing the insignia of a commissioned man. Dabbing himself with a towel, Darren shook the officer’s hand. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Hardwell, have you been keeping track of how long you’ve been laid up?” asked the officer.
“No, sir,”
“Well, you’ve been out for plenty long enough,” the officer noted, “we’ve come to the conclusion that you’re ready to return to duty.”
Darren tried to hide just how much that news excited him; he almost succeeded. “Yes, sir; thank you, sir.” he said, his voice cracking on the last word with an intensity unseen since he was in high school. “Well, you’ll... you’ll have to go through some reorientation, physical training, recertification, the works, but it’ll be a lot shorter, since you’re out of basic and all that.” the officer said, failing miserably at keeping a straight face.
“As is expected, sir.” Darren said, reestablishing his bearing after a few seconds of concentration. “Damn shame a soldier like you missed the war, but special forces are going to be in short supply soon, and there’s a lot of insurgent strongholds out there that need storming. You up to take point?”
Darren smiled widely. “I’ve been waiting to come back to the front since I left, sir.”
The officer nodded in return. “That’s what I expected, Sergeant. Come on; you’ll be training with the locals, just to make sure everyone stays gracious.”
The drive from the hospital to the spaceport was uneventful, for Darren at least. In the alleys beside the road on which he rode, four men with patterned bandanas obscuring their faces unloaded Poslushi neuroforming masks into the back of a trendy little salon. What its owner wanted with them God only knew and it wasn’t their place to ask, so they simply handed over the masks and pretended they didn’t hear the muffled screams coming from the back of a nearby car. In a bar Darren passed in front of, a small clique of businessmen were celebrating their good fortune and good investments in a number of tracts of land in the occupation zones, good for mining and refining once the previous inhabitants were cleared away.
Darren was busy checking into the spaceport when a thin figure emerged from a maintenance closet behind the terminal, licking his lips clean and relishing the struggle. He looked over the passengers lined up before the gate, and could imagine them walking single-file into his mouth, each one patiently awaiting their turn to nourish him. He had to resist the urge to lick his lips again. The figure adjusted his new clothes, checked himself in a bathroom mirror to make sure he looked right, and disappeared into the crowds exiting the building.
Behind him, a dark red puddle was beginning to creep under the closet door.
—
Johann found it difficult to navigate through the packed, whooping crowds of St. Petersburg, especially since he didn’t speak the language. All he could tell, judging by the images of triumphant soldiers marching through Poslushi streets on the Jumbotrons, was that people, even two weeks after the surrender, were still celebrating in throngs; Johann was beginning to suspect that these people hadn’t had a cause to party in a long while. Still, though the smell of cooking meat and sweet spirits allured him, Johann pressed on, towards the southern districts of the metropolis, where the rich, and Svetlana by extension, had their homes.
After a while of making hand signals at confused passersby and trying to figure out what “limousine” was in Russian, Johann was eventually collected by two men in suits and ties. “You’re here for Ms. Kuznetsova?” the man on the left asked, thankfully in German. “Yes, sir,” Johann nodded vigorously, and he was off a few minutes later, speeding southward in an autonomous car, its destination already locked in. Johann tried to calm himself, but he was shaking with anticipation. What would she look like after so many months in bed? Would she recognize him; could she recognize him?
Now that he thought of it, would he recognize her?
“Oi,” one of the bodyguards called, gesturing to a house on Johann’s left, “don’t keep the Marshal’s niece waiting.”
With a small salute, Johann stepped out from the car. He took a few seconds to check his suit, making sure the jacket was crisp and the tie straight. Then, he marched up the stone path to the neo-modern mansion, breathing deeply, one, two, trying not to lose his nerve. All of it was for naught when, just as he was going to grab the doorknob, the door opened for him and there she was, so thin, her eyes sunken and her cheekbones showing. As they locked eyes, Johann could see the tears beginning to run down her cheeks, and it was a second or two before he could feel them scoring his as well. “H-hey, Jo.” Svetlana stuttered, trying to keep her voice from cracking.
That was it. Johann couldn’t resist that voice, that melodic tune she put in every word, a siren song so beautiful it almost made him angry, but how could he be angry at her? Enchanted as he was, he could do nothing but follow his desires, and so he surged forward, scooping Svetlana up in his arms, lifting her off the ground, and then she was laughing, and he was laughing, and all was right with the world. “Don’t bodyslam me, Jo!” Svetlana giggled, making only token resistance to his grasp.
“I’m not gonna hurt you.” Johann said. He couldn’t help but smile when she looked at him the way she did. “God, you’re cold as ice!”
“Yeah, I’m told I shouldn’t be standing around too much until I’m feeling better,” Svetlana looked over into the house’s spacious dining room, where the dining table was already set for the two of them. “I think I’ll cancel my food order; I’m feeling a little sick. I’ll get you something, if you want.”
“I’m not hungry,” Johann shook his head; his appetite had long since been extinguished by nerves. “It all works out, then.” Svetlana said. “Next on the itinerary,” she blushed, “cuddling. You up for that?”
“Svetlana, I haven’t seen you in months,” Johann said matter-of-factly, trying not to show just how much he wanted it, “today’s your day, love.”
“Then let’s get moving; standing up is making me nauseous.” Svetlana said, then performed a mock-swoon back into Johann’s arms, where he picked her up and carried her towards the bedroom. “Do you remember when I talked to you? You were asleep.” Johann asked her, cocking his head to the side.
“A little,” Svetlana nodded, her curly hair rubbing against Johann’s exposed hand and sending an electric jolt through his body, “you got into an argument, didn’t you? I don’t remember anything past that woman yelling.”
“That wasn’t anything you need to worry about,” Johann tried to put on a soothing voice, “but what I said to you is true. One day, I’m putting a ring on your finger.”
“Yeah, I was there when you called my uncle.”
“I mean it!” Johann insisted. “You’re the coolest person I’ve ever met. It’d be stupid to pass someone like you up.”
“Aww, you’re sweet.” Svetlana said as Johann pushed open the bedroom door. Gently, he laid her in her spot on the bed, pulled the covers over her, and then slipped in beside her. At that moment, a distant band began to play an old patriotic song from just after the Third World War, a rising, triumphant number proudly proclaiming that Russia was beaten, but never, ever broken. “I love you, Svetlana.” Johann said. Svetlana simply reached her arm out and grabbed Johann by the tie, pulling him closer. “Prove it, German boy.” she said in a low, sultry voice, pulling his tie off, then beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt.
Soon, they would go out and join the partygoers on the streets. They would feast and chatter and laugh, and the spirits would flow like water. They would forget their woes, with no tomorrow to worry about, nothing to concern oneself with but the cocktail in their hand and the sighs of reunited lovers all around.
But for now, raptured within the warmth and softness of the woman he loved, there was nowhere else he wanted to be.
(AN: This is it. It's been a helluva time, folks. I've become a better writer, I've made room for the sequel, and I can, for now, move on to other projects. You've all been so kind, a lot kinder than I am towards myself sometimes. I never thought we'd get this far; I honestly expected Aliens Don't Sleep to be a one-off. I thought saying CAST was descended from NATO wouldn't result in me having to redefine the entire canon away from a Halo ripoff. I guess the story of No Rest for the Wicked was a story of strange choices leading to something a little nicer. I'm not exactly unhappy with how things turned out, but I probably should've plotted out the course of everything in advance. I'll be more careful in the future, with my next project. And also I'll post this on Royal Road at some point.
So this is goodbye, for now. I love you all.)
submitted by Blursed-Penguin to HFY [link] [comments]
When the word finally reached Alpha Centauri, and, by extension, Rapier, he wanted to find a corner, curl into a ball, and cry in it. Just like that, everything he’d ever known was gone; the Combine was but a memory, and their culture would soon be as well. He held no expectation that humanity would allow the Poslushi to continue in a state as alien as they were. Still, if CAST was being honest, the end of the war would mean prisoner exchanges; he just didn’t know if there would be a Combine to come home to.
Rapier, instead of giving in to impulse, stood a little taller, adjusted his uniform, and pushed the door to his barracks open, stepping out into the large clearing that filled the center of the camp. It was packed to the rafters with people, Poslushi and otherwise, crowding around a single hastily-set-up registration station. Sighing, Rapier marched forth and descended into the rabble, moving with a strength and grace that pushed aside lesser individuals.
It only took him twenty or thirty minutes to get registered, while people who had been there for an hour longer wouldn’t see a desk for hours more. After that, it was a day before the first ships were loaded, and two weeks from Alpha Centauri to Poslush. Rapier was so excited to come home that he barely noticed that he was living with nine other people in one quarters, or that, when he finally touched down in Sunsword’s Triumph, people were sitting at the sides of the streets, begging for food from the human troops patrolling around them. He didn’t notice the Ford Initiative’s recruiting kiosk as he passed it, offering freedom from the looming famine in exchange for a work contract in Planetech’s asteroid fields. He barely registered the pair of Euro-Cath missionaries distributing alms as he brushed past them, or the soldiers in gas masks lowering themselves one by one into the sewers, clutching their submachine guns tightly.
Once Rapier had gotten his bearings about him and made the collaboration government aware of his identity, arranging a meeting was elementary. Soon, he found himself called up to the palace which, though it didn’t look any different, Rapier had an inexplicable feeling had somehow changed. Waiting outside the office of what the collaborators had called a “prime minister,” Rapier took a few deep breaths, trying to collect his thoughts. Imagining that the Combine didn’t exist anymore, at least not in its previous form, was almost impossible to even comprehend. Already, there was talk that when the Combine’s old territory had been wrested from the warlords, there would be referendums in all territories to see if their people wanted out. Even if the humans allowed the Combine to exist at all, it would be butchered.
The individual within the room coughed loudly. “Enter,” she called, and Rapier pushed open the door, seeing a towering Poslushi female with a copper exoskeleton and an air of youth about her. “Rapier of the Idrisat Brood,” the Prime Minister regarded him with curiosity, “I’ve finally put a face to the name. Spatha of the Oxilini Brood, Prime Minister of the Provisional State of Poslush, at your service, sir.”
Rapier bowed. “Greetings. I’m here to apply for a job.”
“So I hear; your public image’ll be of use to the government.” said Spatha, pointing a pen at a propaganda sheet pinned to the wall of Rapier and several other heroes of the Recivilization of Omen raising their sabers as one. Rapier couldn’t help but sigh with nostalgia. “Not to mention that none of the old guards of the nobility will be caught dead taking up a ministry.”
Spatha started, realizing something. “You’re a people person, aren’t you? How’s Minister of Communications sound?”
Rapier’s antennae raised, then lowered further down than before. He narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry?”
“Have I read you wrong?” Spatha said, the air smelling mildly of embarrassment. “Oh, no, no, ma’am, it’s just,” Rapier gestured, flustered, at his body, “a ministry isn’t a job one such as I should have.”
Spatha’s antennae lowered in frustration. “Don’t tell me you’re that conservative, Rapier,” she reassured him, “males have a place in government too!”
“You know the science, of course,” Rapier said, trying not to recall his... particular experiences with Wakizashi, “a male that takes on a female’s job has the tendency to act as she would, and–”
“Rapier,” Spatha said, a sudden change in her tone shocking Rapier into silence, “I can’t find a female to do this job, or any job, for that matter; the noble broods have all boycotted the government. If I can’t find someone to do it, CAST is going to put a human into the role, and they’ll do what’s in CAST’s best interests, not ours. If you want to shrink back into your gender roles, do it after you’ve stopped this country from being colonized, alright?”
Well, when she put it that way...
Rapier bowed once more, lowering himself almost to a right angle. “I shall not disappoint you, Your Dominance.”
“It’s ‘Mistress Prime Minister,’” Spatha corrected him, then took on a pensive look, the air filling with something approaching dread, “and ancestors hope you don’t.”
—
Wham, whack, THUMP!
“A little faster, Darren!” the therapist called, goading Darren along. Darren took a second or two to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his brow, then descended on the punching bag once again, starting off with a strong left jab into a rapid sequence of punches, finishing off with a right hook before steadying himself against his own momentum and delivering a kick from his left leg that left the stand rattling as he stepped back once more. The feeling that he had regained control over his own body was one he’d never forget; the doctors said he was recovering wonderfully, considering the nerve damage the poison had done to him. Even now, after so many weeks of restoration therapy, he had difficulty feeling from his fingertips.
“Again?” Darren looked at the trainer; he nodded and Darren began the motions again. The war had ended without him; it was a shame he couldn’t be there to see the flag raised over Sunsword’s Triumph in person. He’d even recognized the kid who had done the raising; it was the same person to direct his first action against the Combine eight months previously. Darren had to suppress a chuckle; the German was really getting places in the world.
“Staff Sergeant Hardwell!” a voice called from the entrance to the hospital’s gym. Darren stopped in his tracks, looking over to see a sharp-looking man in Army camo, bearing the insignia of a commissioned man. Dabbing himself with a towel, Darren shook the officer’s hand. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Hardwell, have you been keeping track of how long you’ve been laid up?” asked the officer.
“No, sir,”
“Well, you’ve been out for plenty long enough,” the officer noted, “we’ve come to the conclusion that you’re ready to return to duty.”
Darren tried to hide just how much that news excited him; he almost succeeded. “Yes, sir; thank you, sir.” he said, his voice cracking on the last word with an intensity unseen since he was in high school. “Well, you’ll... you’ll have to go through some reorientation, physical training, recertification, the works, but it’ll be a lot shorter, since you’re out of basic and all that.” the officer said, failing miserably at keeping a straight face.
“As is expected, sir.” Darren said, reestablishing his bearing after a few seconds of concentration. “Damn shame a soldier like you missed the war, but special forces are going to be in short supply soon, and there’s a lot of insurgent strongholds out there that need storming. You up to take point?”
Darren smiled widely. “I’ve been waiting to come back to the front since I left, sir.”
The officer nodded in return. “That’s what I expected, Sergeant. Come on; you’ll be training with the locals, just to make sure everyone stays gracious.”
The drive from the hospital to the spaceport was uneventful, for Darren at least. In the alleys beside the road on which he rode, four men with patterned bandanas obscuring their faces unloaded Poslushi neuroforming masks into the back of a trendy little salon. What its owner wanted with them God only knew and it wasn’t their place to ask, so they simply handed over the masks and pretended they didn’t hear the muffled screams coming from the back of a nearby car. In a bar Darren passed in front of, a small clique of businessmen were celebrating their good fortune and good investments in a number of tracts of land in the occupation zones, good for mining and refining once the previous inhabitants were cleared away.
Darren was busy checking into the spaceport when a thin figure emerged from a maintenance closet behind the terminal, licking his lips clean and relishing the struggle. He looked over the passengers lined up before the gate, and could imagine them walking single-file into his mouth, each one patiently awaiting their turn to nourish him. He had to resist the urge to lick his lips again. The figure adjusted his new clothes, checked himself in a bathroom mirror to make sure he looked right, and disappeared into the crowds exiting the building.
Behind him, a dark red puddle was beginning to creep under the closet door.
—
Johann found it difficult to navigate through the packed, whooping crowds of St. Petersburg, especially since he didn’t speak the language. All he could tell, judging by the images of triumphant soldiers marching through Poslushi streets on the Jumbotrons, was that people, even two weeks after the surrender, were still celebrating in throngs; Johann was beginning to suspect that these people hadn’t had a cause to party in a long while. Still, though the smell of cooking meat and sweet spirits allured him, Johann pressed on, towards the southern districts of the metropolis, where the rich, and Svetlana by extension, had their homes.
After a while of making hand signals at confused passersby and trying to figure out what “limousine” was in Russian, Johann was eventually collected by two men in suits and ties. “You’re here for Ms. Kuznetsova?” the man on the left asked, thankfully in German. “Yes, sir,” Johann nodded vigorously, and he was off a few minutes later, speeding southward in an autonomous car, its destination already locked in. Johann tried to calm himself, but he was shaking with anticipation. What would she look like after so many months in bed? Would she recognize him; could she recognize him?
Now that he thought of it, would he recognize her?
“Oi,” one of the bodyguards called, gesturing to a house on Johann’s left, “don’t keep the Marshal’s niece waiting.”
With a small salute, Johann stepped out from the car. He took a few seconds to check his suit, making sure the jacket was crisp and the tie straight. Then, he marched up the stone path to the neo-modern mansion, breathing deeply, one, two, trying not to lose his nerve. All of it was for naught when, just as he was going to grab the doorknob, the door opened for him and there she was, so thin, her eyes sunken and her cheekbones showing. As they locked eyes, Johann could see the tears beginning to run down her cheeks, and it was a second or two before he could feel them scoring his as well. “H-hey, Jo.” Svetlana stuttered, trying to keep her voice from cracking.
That was it. Johann couldn’t resist that voice, that melodic tune she put in every word, a siren song so beautiful it almost made him angry, but how could he be angry at her? Enchanted as he was, he could do nothing but follow his desires, and so he surged forward, scooping Svetlana up in his arms, lifting her off the ground, and then she was laughing, and he was laughing, and all was right with the world. “Don’t bodyslam me, Jo!” Svetlana giggled, making only token resistance to his grasp.
“I’m not gonna hurt you.” Johann said. He couldn’t help but smile when she looked at him the way she did. “God, you’re cold as ice!”
“Yeah, I’m told I shouldn’t be standing around too much until I’m feeling better,” Svetlana looked over into the house’s spacious dining room, where the dining table was already set for the two of them. “I think I’ll cancel my food order; I’m feeling a little sick. I’ll get you something, if you want.”
“I’m not hungry,” Johann shook his head; his appetite had long since been extinguished by nerves. “It all works out, then.” Svetlana said. “Next on the itinerary,” she blushed, “cuddling. You up for that?”
“Svetlana, I haven’t seen you in months,” Johann said matter-of-factly, trying not to show just how much he wanted it, “today’s your day, love.”
“Then let’s get moving; standing up is making me nauseous.” Svetlana said, then performed a mock-swoon back into Johann’s arms, where he picked her up and carried her towards the bedroom. “Do you remember when I talked to you? You were asleep.” Johann asked her, cocking his head to the side.
“A little,” Svetlana nodded, her curly hair rubbing against Johann’s exposed hand and sending an electric jolt through his body, “you got into an argument, didn’t you? I don’t remember anything past that woman yelling.”
“That wasn’t anything you need to worry about,” Johann tried to put on a soothing voice, “but what I said to you is true. One day, I’m putting a ring on your finger.”
“Yeah, I was there when you called my uncle.”
“I mean it!” Johann insisted. “You’re the coolest person I’ve ever met. It’d be stupid to pass someone like you up.”
“Aww, you’re sweet.” Svetlana said as Johann pushed open the bedroom door. Gently, he laid her in her spot on the bed, pulled the covers over her, and then slipped in beside her. At that moment, a distant band began to play an old patriotic song from just after the Third World War, a rising, triumphant number proudly proclaiming that Russia was beaten, but never, ever broken. “I love you, Svetlana.” Johann said. Svetlana simply reached her arm out and grabbed Johann by the tie, pulling him closer. “Prove it, German boy.” she said in a low, sultry voice, pulling his tie off, then beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt.
Soon, they would go out and join the partygoers on the streets. They would feast and chatter and laugh, and the spirits would flow like water. They would forget their woes, with no tomorrow to worry about, nothing to concern oneself with but the cocktail in their hand and the sighs of reunited lovers all around.
But for now, raptured within the warmth and softness of the woman he loved, there was nowhere else he wanted to be.
(AN: This is it. It's been a helluva time, folks. I've become a better writer, I've made room for the sequel, and I can, for now, move on to other projects. You've all been so kind, a lot kinder than I am towards myself sometimes. I never thought we'd get this far; I honestly expected Aliens Don't Sleep to be a one-off. I thought saying CAST was descended from NATO wouldn't result in me having to redefine the entire canon away from a Halo ripoff. I guess the story of No Rest for the Wicked was a story of strange choices leading to something a little nicer. I'm not exactly unhappy with how things turned out, but I probably should've plotted out the course of everything in advance. I'll be more careful in the future, with my next project. And also I'll post this on Royal Road at some point.
So this is goodbye, for now. I love you all.)
2024.01.17 16:37 SpacePaladin15 The Nature of Predators 2-2
First Next Bissem Lore!
Book 1 Patreon Subreddit Discord Paperback
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Memory Transcription Subject: Tassi, Bissem Scientist
Date [standardized human time]: March 13, 2160
The alien stood in silence after pronouncing those series of words in our dialect, waiting as we processed its message. Its two partners stood behind it, with the shortest one especially seeming deferential. I gawked at the visitors, setting aside all thoughts of approaching them with numbers and a slow exchange of vocabulary. Some of the clicks sounded strange from its vocal cords, reverberating with strength and power, but the usage was spot on. We needed to have a way to respond to them now, and I’d never even thought what to say! It had been a possibility that I ruled out as fantastical, imagining how different they would be.
What was I supposed to think of them knowing our language? They must either be able to learn unfathomably quickly through some kind of cognitive transference, or they’d been monitoring us for quite a while. The latter seemed the most plausible, but then again, this entire premise of this scenario shouldn’t have been plausible. If they had been present, observing us like our scientists would track a school of fish…that, coupled with their words, meant they didn’t bear us any ill will.
It was possible they’d been here for a much longer duration, watching our entire societal history play out. These were advanced lifeforms after all, with capabilities that allowed them to travel light years through space! Perhaps they were progenitors of life in this star system; for all we knew, these were our very creators. I thought about their entity’s name, “The Sapient Coalition.” It sounded like an alliance of numerous species, and it didn’t follow that they’d evolved on the same world. Wait…were they inviting us to join a galactic community?
We have to be on our best behavior. Naltor needs to call off his guns, and play nice; we’re directly communicating with multiple worlds.
“Welcome to Ivrana,” I managed, a stupefied croak that barely escaped my beak. “We’re honored to have you here. Uh…may I ask how you know our language?”
Several barks escaped the tall, slender figure’s chest. “We got your messages, and observed your world for several years to assess the best way to approach contact; don’t worry, we’re familiar with your culture, so you won’t cause us any offense. Might I say, Journey Beneath the Ice is a great movie!”
General Naltor blinked in confusion. “You watched Journey Beneath the Ice?”
“A…guilty pleasure. I can sense the nasty looks from my colleagues, but we humans…we like to keep it light. Forgive me. To answer your question, we do have language model-driven translator technology, which decoded your four primary languages. However, to avoid any misunderstandings, mistranslations, and clunky machines, our team learned to speak Vrit fluently. It took ten years. It’s really hard to teach those damn machines idioms and wordplay…as I’m sure you, a species that’s had the internet for decades, can imagine.”
They are nothing like I imagined they would be. Wow. I…I need to sit down.
“We can imagine,” I managed, trying not to swoon. “You…you spent ten years of your life learning our language, just to speak to us with minimal confusion? We’re honored.”
“We’re honored to be here. This is the Coalition’s…first time initiating a first contact scenario, so forgive us if we’re not the smoothest at it,” the puffy-backed creature spoke, in a lighter voice. “I think we should introduce ourselves and our respective species, Dustin.”
The tall creature paused, thinking for several seconds. “Yes, I think we should. I’m Dustin Curtis, and I’m a xenobiologist. Discovering lifeforms from across the galaxy has been my calling; I confess, I’m itching to get a look at your wildlife up close, once we become friends. As you might’ve cued in on, I’m a human…from the planet Earth.”
“I’m Nulia. I have a doctorate in sociology, so let’s say I’m the one who’s analyzed your national relations. I’m a Gojid, technically from the cradle, but I’ve lived on Skalga since I was a small child,” the mid-sized one chimed in.
The shortest alien hesitated, before piping up tentatively. “I’m Haliska. I’m here because my species is the only semiaquatic race in the Sapient Coalition, so we share your love for water. For what it’s worth, the humans, despite being land mammals through and through, adore the ocean too. My species is the Thafki, and we…live on the Commune. Our homeworld was destroyed, long ago.”
“Your homeworld was destroyed?” My gasp of horror escaped a moment later, as I tried to imagine Ivrana just being…gone. The way Haliska said it so calmly was concerning; I didn’t know what this “Commune” was either. “Forgive me if I’m being insensitive, but what happened?”
“Did someone attack your planet?” General Naltor asked, disregarding all notions of tact.
Haliska’s tail twitched with sadness. “If I told you what happened without context, it would alarm you…let me clarify that the species that did that to my homeworld has been isolated from the rest of the galaxy, and are monitored by the SC. I’m afraid my planet was bombed…and our old allies did nothing to help us. Humans rescued some of our, um, hostages, and have helped us build an official Commune as something to call our own. It’s a long story, and I…don’t want to sour first contact.”
“You’re not souring anything. We appreciate your honesty, and I’m sorry that’s happened to the Thafki,” I jumped in hastily, feeling a mix of shock and sympathy at this appalling story. “I am worried by much of this history you’ve described.”
Naltor’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I’m glad that my scientific friend shares my concerns. I also noted it was mentioned that you’ve never initiated a first contact, despite the fact you all know each other. Am I correct in assuming you had some major conflict?”
“You can say that again,” Dustin muttered. “The SC is a newer organization. I’m afraid the galaxy’s recent history is troubled, but I assure you that we’ve come here, in the hopes of starting something better. It’s of the utmost importance to us that we help you, yet minimize our impact on your culture. We wanted to come to you with honesty, while also not overwhelming you or stunting your individuality.”
It was interesting to hear the human address Naltor’s colonization fears, by expressing that they wanted to avoid a Nelmin situation. The Selmer general folded his flippers in front of his thick blubber, scrutinizing the aliens with caution. He hesitated, before signaling for the military assets to stand down; I noticed the visitors’ posture relax. From what they’d just described about there being a major conflict in the stars, I imagined they would recognize any type of weapon. It wasn’t unlikely that they knew about our own history, and had studied our military from above as well. Part of me was…disappointed that these species were plagued by the same strife up in the stars that we were down here.
What was the cause of this major conflict, one so horrible that entire worlds were destroyed? What brought the war to an end…and what happens if this quarantined species gets past the Sapient Coalition?
The positives were that these beings were interested in communicating with us, and had expressed multiple times that they didn’t mean us any harm. While I could tell that General Naltor wanted to press them on this war issue, and gather the entirety of the details, I wanted to learn more about why they decided to contact Lassmin before any other nation. There was evidence this wasn’t by chance; the aliens had found our probe, and Nulia indicated they knew our factional tendencies. There was a great deal that they could teach Bissems, even if their minds were less beyond us than I envisioned…but we’d have to find a way to juggle competing interests on Ivrana first.
The last thing we needed was to be at each other’s throats; it wouldn’t take much for the Selmer, Vritala, and Tseia nations to turn on their counterparts. With literal visitors from another world, some naïve voice in my brain prayed to Hirs that we would see the folly in our squabbles. However, if that meant that we’d just unify our guns against other planets, as it seemed had happened among these aliens…I wasn’t sure that was any different. I hoped we could find a way to make the Sapient Coalition into friends of Bissems from all subspecies, and to make them not regret opening up the galactic community.
There were thousands of questions about much lighter topics at the tip of my tongue: how many aliens were out there? What were their cultural and anatomical quirks; their greatest achievements and homeworld marvels? How did their spacefaring technology grant them the means to violate the speed limit of the universe…or did it? Dustin, Nulia, and Haliska couldn’t have known about FAI’s messages any earlier than two decades ago, no matter how close their star was. That meant they were either within a few light-years of our space (accounting for the signal’s dispersal time and their travel), or they had FTL mechanisms.
“Excuse me, miss?” Haliska prompted. “What’s your name?”
Blood rushed to my forehead from embarrassment. “I apologize, I got lost in my thoughts. There’s so many things I could ask you. I’m Dr. Tassi from FAI, and this is General Naltor of the Lassian Military.”
“Dr. Tassi! Don’t worry, there’ll be time to ask us absolutely anything you want,” Dustin chuckled. “I’d like to thank your military friend for not shooting us.”
Nulia sighed in exasperation. “Don’t joke about that!”
“Oh, I’m not joking. We definitely spooked these guys…I think we still have. I thought it’d be a simple invitation, if they wanted to meet with us. I’m sorry for any alarm our presence has caused you. We’re sentimental bastards; we like to do things personal, face-to-face. If you for some reason want us to leave, just ask, and we’ll go right now.”
“Do not leave.” Naltor’s words were all but an order, and I cringed at how he spoke to the aliens. “Why Lassmin? Why did you pick us?”
“You had the space program, and you’re also the closest thing to a union of all Bissems,” Haliska answered. “The Confederation of Vrital and the Merlei Huddledom haven’t given a shit about space in over a century.”
Never thought I’d hear casual profanity at first contact, but let’s just waddle with it.
“We thought about landing in Nelmin, since it’s off-limits—forbidden for any settlements because of the Nel Armistice,” Nulia remarked. “That would be neutral ground, but it’s also a sore spot to start our relations. We wouldn’t want to risk you fighting about whether to return at all.”
Dustin made a strange gesture with his appendage. “Haliska didn’t mention the third grouping, so I feel obligated to touch on it. We’re aware of how well the Tseia Nomads react to visitors trying to land on Alsh…and that’s with other Bissems. They’re reclusive in the best of times, so I can’t say how they’d take to us. We like our spaceships without an ICBM in the hull.”
“You’re smart on that front. Unpredictable, shifty fucks do what they want, when they want,” Naltor mumbled.
I shot the Selmer general a concerned look. “Let’s not refer to other Bissems that way around the aliens? Common sense. They’re here to speak to all of us.”
“We are. I’ll tell you what a very wise leader told our species, when we bumbled out to deep space; we’re not here to take sides, show favoritism, or meddle in your conflicts.” Dustin ducked his head, rubbing his digits against the back of his neck in a self-soothing way. “Sort it out among yourselves, but you get one embassy. Ivrana is one entity to us, because we don’t have the diplomatic bandwidth for anything more.”
“Lassmin has been seeking Bissem Unity for years, but we can’t control the others!” Naltor spat.
“I don’t think we need to decide on any hierarchies right now.” I interceded hastily, not wanting to have the aliens believe we couldn’t get along. It had been kind of Dustin not to judge us for warring amongst ourselves, but it seemed his kind had moved past that at first contact; we needed to as well. “Question on the spacesuits, if you don’t mind. Is our environment not breathable for you? Or is it to prevent microorganism contamination?”
Dustin and Haliska seemed to share a glance beneath their helmets, while Nulia tried to give the appearance of being distracted. My innocuous question, to pivot away from the topic of Bissem acrimony, seemed to have touched a nerve. It was possible the aliens looked drastically different from us, and were concealing their anatomy to avoid frightening us; they could have six eyes, no skin, or something altogether “horrifying.” They also might not want to tip off their vulnerabilities, if it had to do with a toxin in our world’s atmosphere. It was as if the human was a bit nervous.
What is he frightened of: that we’ll weaponize whatever we learn about his species? If it was just microorganisms, he’d say it.
“Microbes can’t jump between alien species; biology varies too much from world-to-world,” Nulia answered. “It’d pose no risk to you. The proof is the hundreds of years we’ve been in contact with each other, though we ran simulations just to be certain.”
Haliska thumped her tail on the ground. “Your atmosphere is breathable to us as well; we all are dependent on oxygen. If we landed in Merlei Huddledom territory on the poles, that would pose an environmental hazard. None of us are suited to that kind of cold, but other than that, no standard environment on Ivrana should be dangerous to us.”
Dustin stiffened, digits curling with reluctance. “It feels early to take off the suits, before you’ve truly gotten to know us.”
“We’re asking because we truly wish to get to know you,” I prompted. “You said yourself that your kind likes relations personal, face-to-face, yet you’ve obscured your features.”
“It’s…complicated. I…I think that Haliska and Nulia should start.”
Nulia hesitated, before popping off her helmet and sliding out of the suit. Thick, brown fur enveloped her features, along with some sort of spikes attached to her spine; the claws were both slender and lengthy, presenting an additional natural threat. It didn’t seem that she could sprint well, given how stout her legs were. There was nothing especially alien about her, with the same quantity and layout of features as standard life on our homeworld. Her brown irises were warm as they stared back at us, reflecting sunlight with cool warmth.
Haliska risked a glance at the enraptured soldiers, many of who were as absorbed in this pivotal moment as I was. She shimmied out of her own suit, standing well below the Gojid; the Thafki had a bluish-gray coloration, twitching whiskers atop cream patches on her chin, and webbed feet not dissimilar to our own. That matched with the story of her semiaquatic origins; the lithe form of her body and tapered shape of her tail were perfect for swimming. Overall, these two creatures were agreeable to the eyes, which meant the problem must be with Dustin. What was the human concerned about?
“Well, shit. Here goes,” the final masked alien muttered.
Dustin’s hands drifted up to his helmet, and Naltor scrutinized him as he slowly removed the helmet. The creature’s rosy lips wobbled with nerves, as he trained two eyes directly at me; this species had a narrower scope of vision, best suited to depth perception. I did note how large the unpigmented portion of his sclera was: curious. His other features were even more peculiar, with a massive, triangular nose that jutted out of the center of his face. His ears were circular, with cartilage folded in swirling patterns that I’d never seen before. There was no fur on his face, or seemingly further down his neck, but tangled, brown hair sprouted atop his head.
He looks the most alien, but not especially frightening. His skin looks soft and delicate.
It didn’t escape my notice how Haliska and Nulia seemed relieved, when none of us reacted poorly to Dustin. The human’s eyes fluttered, warming as he saw he wasn’t being rebuffed. Granted, most of my wild assumptions about these aliens had been wrong so far, since this hadn’t been anything like my imagined first contact scenarios. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had judged his species for something. This trepidation about merely showing his face wasn’t natural.
“It’s nice to meet all of you,” I offered, in the most gracious voice I could muster. “Naltor, what would you say to extending these aliens a proper welcome?”
General Naltor’s beak parted with alarm. “I would say if we organize the necessary preparations, and then transport these aliens somewhere we can host festivities, there’s no way to stop it from getting out to the public!”
“We wanted you to have the opportunity to announce the news yourselves, but if I may, they’re going to find out eventually,” Dustin commented. “Forgive my forwardness, but we’re not going to play a part in hiding anything from the masses. It goes against our founding principles.”
Haliska lashed her tail. “There’s nothing to fear. People adjust more quickly than you might think to their new reality. You’d be amazed what they…can adjust to. Believe me, I would know.”
“I agree that we should be transparent with the public, sir.” I raised my flippers for emphasis, hoping to show the sincerity in my words. “This is something all Bissems have the right to know. I understand you wanted to protect the people, at first, but I don’t believe our visitors are a threat.”
“I suppose livestreaming it on the internet would make the dumbfucks in the other nations less inclined to do anything stupid,” Naltor grumbled. “What’s that look for, Tassi? Ah, right, I shouldn’t have said ‘dumbfucks.’ I meant the ‘nice people’ in other nations.”
The human flashed his teeth briefly, earning a lingering glance from me; they weren’t impressive dental structures, but it was an odd expression to display at this time. I was keen on learning the aliens’ nonverbals. While it was helpful that they’d learned our own to avoid any misunderstandings, what appeared to be a threat display by our zoological standards was an example of why we needed to learn theirs. Dustin covered his mouth with a sheepish expression, noticing that Naltor had returned to an alert posture.
“I apologize. My species has the…odd habit of curving our lips upward when we’re amused or happy. It’s a sign of submissiveness and goodwill, believe it or not. It’s instinctual, so despite how other species admonish us, it’s difficult to control. I can put the helmet back on if it makes you uncomfortable,” the xenobiologist said.
I raised a flipper to reassure him. “Nonsense. You’re an alien; of course, you evolved with different expressions than us. Now that we know what it means, I’m sure Naltor won’t take it as a challenge.”
The general scoffed. “I was not going to contest the alien’s strength, even if he was provoking me. I just wasn’t going to let myself seem intimidated. Why don’t we bring these aliens onto a transport, make an announcement to the public, and set up a feast replete with the finest delicacies?”
“A feast?” Haliska whispered, with a tone that seemed fearful.
“We should stay that offer. We don’t know the aliens’ customs around mealtime, or whether they’d be able to eat our food. It is a bit presumptive, Naltor,” I said hastily, wanting to cover whatever faux pas we’d committed against the Thafki. “Perhaps they don’t like excess or wasting food, or they’re private. Maybe they only share food with close friends…or maybe they don’t eat at all.”
Dustin shot the bluish-gray alien a smoldering glare. “We know how central fishing is to Bissem culture, and how hospitable it is for them to extend an invitation to a feast. Don’t we?”
“Yes. Of c-course we do,” Haliska whimpered.
“It’s no different from the humans,” Nulia assured the Thafki quietly. “We accept this now, ever since the deconversions. You know that I’m uncured.”
Uncured? Deconversions? What the fuck are they talking about?
“I feel like there’s something I should know about here.” General Naltor eyed the visitors with concern, thinking the same thing by my assessment. “I didn’t mean to cause any offense. I was trying to celebrate your arrival.”
The human bobbed his head from side-to-side. “No, you didn’t cause us any offense. Your invitation was quite kind, and we’ll accept it if you're still willing to extend it. There’s some…complicated matters that we’ll explain to you in due time, but I’d prefer not to get into our full baggage today. What I will say is that none of our allied species subsist solely on meat, so I must ask if it’s possible for you to accommodate us with some vegetable fare? I know your bodies aren’t adapted for eating it, but…”
“Of course, we should’ve asked about that. It’s hard to think of food as not fish,” I responded. There’s something much deeper going on here, but I haven’t figured out what. “We have some sea plants and a small selection of land vegetables for our fish farms. That’s what we’d be able to bring in on short notice. It’s not a massive selection, but we should have no problem accommodating your needs.”
“Great. Thanks,” a queasy-looking Haliska replied.
Hesitation flickered in Naltor’s eyes, debating whether to press the aliens. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements; the FAI convention center should be perfect. I’m sure the rest of Tassi’s fellow scientists will be delighted to chip in, work shifts be damned. Shall we head to the vehicles?”
Dustin dipped his head. “Lead the way.”
The Selmer general clasped his flippers behind his back, and strode over to the convoy we’d come from. My mind was dazed from everything that had unfolded, but a mystery had made itself plain to me. As tempted as it was to zero in on cultural details, I needed to devote some focus to learning the details of the strange attitudes relating to the human and the feast.
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First Next Bissem Lore!
Book 1 Patreon Subreddit Discord Paperback
submitted by SpacePaladin15 to HFY [link] [comments]
Book 1 Patreon Subreddit Discord Paperback
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Memory Transcription Subject: Tassi, Bissem Scientist
Date [standardized human time]: March 13, 2160
The alien stood in silence after pronouncing those series of words in our dialect, waiting as we processed its message. Its two partners stood behind it, with the shortest one especially seeming deferential. I gawked at the visitors, setting aside all thoughts of approaching them with numbers and a slow exchange of vocabulary. Some of the clicks sounded strange from its vocal cords, reverberating with strength and power, but the usage was spot on. We needed to have a way to respond to them now, and I’d never even thought what to say! It had been a possibility that I ruled out as fantastical, imagining how different they would be.
What was I supposed to think of them knowing our language? They must either be able to learn unfathomably quickly through some kind of cognitive transference, or they’d been monitoring us for quite a while. The latter seemed the most plausible, but then again, this entire premise of this scenario shouldn’t have been plausible. If they had been present, observing us like our scientists would track a school of fish…that, coupled with their words, meant they didn’t bear us any ill will.
It was possible they’d been here for a much longer duration, watching our entire societal history play out. These were advanced lifeforms after all, with capabilities that allowed them to travel light years through space! Perhaps they were progenitors of life in this star system; for all we knew, these were our very creators. I thought about their entity’s name, “The Sapient Coalition.” It sounded like an alliance of numerous species, and it didn’t follow that they’d evolved on the same world. Wait…were they inviting us to join a galactic community?
We have to be on our best behavior. Naltor needs to call off his guns, and play nice; we’re directly communicating with multiple worlds.
“Welcome to Ivrana,” I managed, a stupefied croak that barely escaped my beak. “We’re honored to have you here. Uh…may I ask how you know our language?”
Several barks escaped the tall, slender figure’s chest. “We got your messages, and observed your world for several years to assess the best way to approach contact; don’t worry, we’re familiar with your culture, so you won’t cause us any offense. Might I say, Journey Beneath the Ice is a great movie!”
General Naltor blinked in confusion. “You watched Journey Beneath the Ice?”
“A…guilty pleasure. I can sense the nasty looks from my colleagues, but we humans…we like to keep it light. Forgive me. To answer your question, we do have language model-driven translator technology, which decoded your four primary languages. However, to avoid any misunderstandings, mistranslations, and clunky machines, our team learned to speak Vrit fluently. It took ten years. It’s really hard to teach those damn machines idioms and wordplay…as I’m sure you, a species that’s had the internet for decades, can imagine.”
They are nothing like I imagined they would be. Wow. I…I need to sit down.
“We can imagine,” I managed, trying not to swoon. “You…you spent ten years of your life learning our language, just to speak to us with minimal confusion? We’re honored.”
“We’re honored to be here. This is the Coalition’s…first time initiating a first contact scenario, so forgive us if we’re not the smoothest at it,” the puffy-backed creature spoke, in a lighter voice. “I think we should introduce ourselves and our respective species, Dustin.”
The tall creature paused, thinking for several seconds. “Yes, I think we should. I’m Dustin Curtis, and I’m a xenobiologist. Discovering lifeforms from across the galaxy has been my calling; I confess, I’m itching to get a look at your wildlife up close, once we become friends. As you might’ve cued in on, I’m a human…from the planet Earth.”
“I’m Nulia. I have a doctorate in sociology, so let’s say I’m the one who’s analyzed your national relations. I’m a Gojid, technically from the cradle, but I’ve lived on Skalga since I was a small child,” the mid-sized one chimed in.
The shortest alien hesitated, before piping up tentatively. “I’m Haliska. I’m here because my species is the only semiaquatic race in the Sapient Coalition, so we share your love for water. For what it’s worth, the humans, despite being land mammals through and through, adore the ocean too. My species is the Thafki, and we…live on the Commune. Our homeworld was destroyed, long ago.”
“Your homeworld was destroyed?” My gasp of horror escaped a moment later, as I tried to imagine Ivrana just being…gone. The way Haliska said it so calmly was concerning; I didn’t know what this “Commune” was either. “Forgive me if I’m being insensitive, but what happened?”
“Did someone attack your planet?” General Naltor asked, disregarding all notions of tact.
Haliska’s tail twitched with sadness. “If I told you what happened without context, it would alarm you…let me clarify that the species that did that to my homeworld has been isolated from the rest of the galaxy, and are monitored by the SC. I’m afraid my planet was bombed…and our old allies did nothing to help us. Humans rescued some of our, um, hostages, and have helped us build an official Commune as something to call our own. It’s a long story, and I…don’t want to sour first contact.”
“You’re not souring anything. We appreciate your honesty, and I’m sorry that’s happened to the Thafki,” I jumped in hastily, feeling a mix of shock and sympathy at this appalling story. “I am worried by much of this history you’ve described.”
Naltor’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I’m glad that my scientific friend shares my concerns. I also noted it was mentioned that you’ve never initiated a first contact, despite the fact you all know each other. Am I correct in assuming you had some major conflict?”
“You can say that again,” Dustin muttered. “The SC is a newer organization. I’m afraid the galaxy’s recent history is troubled, but I assure you that we’ve come here, in the hopes of starting something better. It’s of the utmost importance to us that we help you, yet minimize our impact on your culture. We wanted to come to you with honesty, while also not overwhelming you or stunting your individuality.”
It was interesting to hear the human address Naltor’s colonization fears, by expressing that they wanted to avoid a Nelmin situation. The Selmer general folded his flippers in front of his thick blubber, scrutinizing the aliens with caution. He hesitated, before signaling for the military assets to stand down; I noticed the visitors’ posture relax. From what they’d just described about there being a major conflict in the stars, I imagined they would recognize any type of weapon. It wasn’t unlikely that they knew about our own history, and had studied our military from above as well. Part of me was…disappointed that these species were plagued by the same strife up in the stars that we were down here.
What was the cause of this major conflict, one so horrible that entire worlds were destroyed? What brought the war to an end…and what happens if this quarantined species gets past the Sapient Coalition?
The positives were that these beings were interested in communicating with us, and had expressed multiple times that they didn’t mean us any harm. While I could tell that General Naltor wanted to press them on this war issue, and gather the entirety of the details, I wanted to learn more about why they decided to contact Lassmin before any other nation. There was evidence this wasn’t by chance; the aliens had found our probe, and Nulia indicated they knew our factional tendencies. There was a great deal that they could teach Bissems, even if their minds were less beyond us than I envisioned…but we’d have to find a way to juggle competing interests on Ivrana first.
The last thing we needed was to be at each other’s throats; it wouldn’t take much for the Selmer, Vritala, and Tseia nations to turn on their counterparts. With literal visitors from another world, some naïve voice in my brain prayed to Hirs that we would see the folly in our squabbles. However, if that meant that we’d just unify our guns against other planets, as it seemed had happened among these aliens…I wasn’t sure that was any different. I hoped we could find a way to make the Sapient Coalition into friends of Bissems from all subspecies, and to make them not regret opening up the galactic community.
There were thousands of questions about much lighter topics at the tip of my tongue: how many aliens were out there? What were their cultural and anatomical quirks; their greatest achievements and homeworld marvels? How did their spacefaring technology grant them the means to violate the speed limit of the universe…or did it? Dustin, Nulia, and Haliska couldn’t have known about FAI’s messages any earlier than two decades ago, no matter how close their star was. That meant they were either within a few light-years of our space (accounting for the signal’s dispersal time and their travel), or they had FTL mechanisms.
“Excuse me, miss?” Haliska prompted. “What’s your name?”
Blood rushed to my forehead from embarrassment. “I apologize, I got lost in my thoughts. There’s so many things I could ask you. I’m Dr. Tassi from FAI, and this is General Naltor of the Lassian Military.”
“Dr. Tassi! Don’t worry, there’ll be time to ask us absolutely anything you want,” Dustin chuckled. “I’d like to thank your military friend for not shooting us.”
Nulia sighed in exasperation. “Don’t joke about that!”
“Oh, I’m not joking. We definitely spooked these guys…I think we still have. I thought it’d be a simple invitation, if they wanted to meet with us. I’m sorry for any alarm our presence has caused you. We’re sentimental bastards; we like to do things personal, face-to-face. If you for some reason want us to leave, just ask, and we’ll go right now.”
“Do not leave.” Naltor’s words were all but an order, and I cringed at how he spoke to the aliens. “Why Lassmin? Why did you pick us?”
“You had the space program, and you’re also the closest thing to a union of all Bissems,” Haliska answered. “The Confederation of Vrital and the Merlei Huddledom haven’t given a shit about space in over a century.”
Never thought I’d hear casual profanity at first contact, but let’s just waddle with it.
“We thought about landing in Nelmin, since it’s off-limits—forbidden for any settlements because of the Nel Armistice,” Nulia remarked. “That would be neutral ground, but it’s also a sore spot to start our relations. We wouldn’t want to risk you fighting about whether to return at all.”
Dustin made a strange gesture with his appendage. “Haliska didn’t mention the third grouping, so I feel obligated to touch on it. We’re aware of how well the Tseia Nomads react to visitors trying to land on Alsh…and that’s with other Bissems. They’re reclusive in the best of times, so I can’t say how they’d take to us. We like our spaceships without an ICBM in the hull.”
“You’re smart on that front. Unpredictable, shifty fucks do what they want, when they want,” Naltor mumbled.
I shot the Selmer general a concerned look. “Let’s not refer to other Bissems that way around the aliens? Common sense. They’re here to speak to all of us.”
“We are. I’ll tell you what a very wise leader told our species, when we bumbled out to deep space; we’re not here to take sides, show favoritism, or meddle in your conflicts.” Dustin ducked his head, rubbing his digits against the back of his neck in a self-soothing way. “Sort it out among yourselves, but you get one embassy. Ivrana is one entity to us, because we don’t have the diplomatic bandwidth for anything more.”
“Lassmin has been seeking Bissem Unity for years, but we can’t control the others!” Naltor spat.
“I don’t think we need to decide on any hierarchies right now.” I interceded hastily, not wanting to have the aliens believe we couldn’t get along. It had been kind of Dustin not to judge us for warring amongst ourselves, but it seemed his kind had moved past that at first contact; we needed to as well. “Question on the spacesuits, if you don’t mind. Is our environment not breathable for you? Or is it to prevent microorganism contamination?”
Dustin and Haliska seemed to share a glance beneath their helmets, while Nulia tried to give the appearance of being distracted. My innocuous question, to pivot away from the topic of Bissem acrimony, seemed to have touched a nerve. It was possible the aliens looked drastically different from us, and were concealing their anatomy to avoid frightening us; they could have six eyes, no skin, or something altogether “horrifying.” They also might not want to tip off their vulnerabilities, if it had to do with a toxin in our world’s atmosphere. It was as if the human was a bit nervous.
What is he frightened of: that we’ll weaponize whatever we learn about his species? If it was just microorganisms, he’d say it.
“Microbes can’t jump between alien species; biology varies too much from world-to-world,” Nulia answered. “It’d pose no risk to you. The proof is the hundreds of years we’ve been in contact with each other, though we ran simulations just to be certain.”
Haliska thumped her tail on the ground. “Your atmosphere is breathable to us as well; we all are dependent on oxygen. If we landed in Merlei Huddledom territory on the poles, that would pose an environmental hazard. None of us are suited to that kind of cold, but other than that, no standard environment on Ivrana should be dangerous to us.”
Dustin stiffened, digits curling with reluctance. “It feels early to take off the suits, before you’ve truly gotten to know us.”
“We’re asking because we truly wish to get to know you,” I prompted. “You said yourself that your kind likes relations personal, face-to-face, yet you’ve obscured your features.”
“It’s…complicated. I…I think that Haliska and Nulia should start.”
Nulia hesitated, before popping off her helmet and sliding out of the suit. Thick, brown fur enveloped her features, along with some sort of spikes attached to her spine; the claws were both slender and lengthy, presenting an additional natural threat. It didn’t seem that she could sprint well, given how stout her legs were. There was nothing especially alien about her, with the same quantity and layout of features as standard life on our homeworld. Her brown irises were warm as they stared back at us, reflecting sunlight with cool warmth.
Haliska risked a glance at the enraptured soldiers, many of who were as absorbed in this pivotal moment as I was. She shimmied out of her own suit, standing well below the Gojid; the Thafki had a bluish-gray coloration, twitching whiskers atop cream patches on her chin, and webbed feet not dissimilar to our own. That matched with the story of her semiaquatic origins; the lithe form of her body and tapered shape of her tail were perfect for swimming. Overall, these two creatures were agreeable to the eyes, which meant the problem must be with Dustin. What was the human concerned about?
“Well, shit. Here goes,” the final masked alien muttered.
Dustin’s hands drifted up to his helmet, and Naltor scrutinized him as he slowly removed the helmet. The creature’s rosy lips wobbled with nerves, as he trained two eyes directly at me; this species had a narrower scope of vision, best suited to depth perception. I did note how large the unpigmented portion of his sclera was: curious. His other features were even more peculiar, with a massive, triangular nose that jutted out of the center of his face. His ears were circular, with cartilage folded in swirling patterns that I’d never seen before. There was no fur on his face, or seemingly further down his neck, but tangled, brown hair sprouted atop his head.
He looks the most alien, but not especially frightening. His skin looks soft and delicate.
It didn’t escape my notice how Haliska and Nulia seemed relieved, when none of us reacted poorly to Dustin. The human’s eyes fluttered, warming as he saw he wasn’t being rebuffed. Granted, most of my wild assumptions about these aliens had been wrong so far, since this hadn’t been anything like my imagined first contact scenarios. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had judged his species for something. This trepidation about merely showing his face wasn’t natural.
“It’s nice to meet all of you,” I offered, in the most gracious voice I could muster. “Naltor, what would you say to extending these aliens a proper welcome?”
General Naltor’s beak parted with alarm. “I would say if we organize the necessary preparations, and then transport these aliens somewhere we can host festivities, there’s no way to stop it from getting out to the public!”
“We wanted you to have the opportunity to announce the news yourselves, but if I may, they’re going to find out eventually,” Dustin commented. “Forgive my forwardness, but we’re not going to play a part in hiding anything from the masses. It goes against our founding principles.”
Haliska lashed her tail. “There’s nothing to fear. People adjust more quickly than you might think to their new reality. You’d be amazed what they…can adjust to. Believe me, I would know.”
“I agree that we should be transparent with the public, sir.” I raised my flippers for emphasis, hoping to show the sincerity in my words. “This is something all Bissems have the right to know. I understand you wanted to protect the people, at first, but I don’t believe our visitors are a threat.”
“I suppose livestreaming it on the internet would make the dumbfucks in the other nations less inclined to do anything stupid,” Naltor grumbled. “What’s that look for, Tassi? Ah, right, I shouldn’t have said ‘dumbfucks.’ I meant the ‘nice people’ in other nations.”
The human flashed his teeth briefly, earning a lingering glance from me; they weren’t impressive dental structures, but it was an odd expression to display at this time. I was keen on learning the aliens’ nonverbals. While it was helpful that they’d learned our own to avoid any misunderstandings, what appeared to be a threat display by our zoological standards was an example of why we needed to learn theirs. Dustin covered his mouth with a sheepish expression, noticing that Naltor had returned to an alert posture.
“I apologize. My species has the…odd habit of curving our lips upward when we’re amused or happy. It’s a sign of submissiveness and goodwill, believe it or not. It’s instinctual, so despite how other species admonish us, it’s difficult to control. I can put the helmet back on if it makes you uncomfortable,” the xenobiologist said.
I raised a flipper to reassure him. “Nonsense. You’re an alien; of course, you evolved with different expressions than us. Now that we know what it means, I’m sure Naltor won’t take it as a challenge.”
The general scoffed. “I was not going to contest the alien’s strength, even if he was provoking me. I just wasn’t going to let myself seem intimidated. Why don’t we bring these aliens onto a transport, make an announcement to the public, and set up a feast replete with the finest delicacies?”
“A feast?” Haliska whispered, with a tone that seemed fearful.
“We should stay that offer. We don’t know the aliens’ customs around mealtime, or whether they’d be able to eat our food. It is a bit presumptive, Naltor,” I said hastily, wanting to cover whatever faux pas we’d committed against the Thafki. “Perhaps they don’t like excess or wasting food, or they’re private. Maybe they only share food with close friends…or maybe they don’t eat at all.”
Dustin shot the bluish-gray alien a smoldering glare. “We know how central fishing is to Bissem culture, and how hospitable it is for them to extend an invitation to a feast. Don’t we?”
“Yes. Of c-course we do,” Haliska whimpered.
“It’s no different from the humans,” Nulia assured the Thafki quietly. “We accept this now, ever since the deconversions. You know that I’m uncured.”
Uncured? Deconversions? What the fuck are they talking about?
“I feel like there’s something I should know about here.” General Naltor eyed the visitors with concern, thinking the same thing by my assessment. “I didn’t mean to cause any offense. I was trying to celebrate your arrival.”
The human bobbed his head from side-to-side. “No, you didn’t cause us any offense. Your invitation was quite kind, and we’ll accept it if you're still willing to extend it. There’s some…complicated matters that we’ll explain to you in due time, but I’d prefer not to get into our full baggage today. What I will say is that none of our allied species subsist solely on meat, so I must ask if it’s possible for you to accommodate us with some vegetable fare? I know your bodies aren’t adapted for eating it, but…”
“Of course, we should’ve asked about that. It’s hard to think of food as not fish,” I responded. There’s something much deeper going on here, but I haven’t figured out what. “We have some sea plants and a small selection of land vegetables for our fish farms. That’s what we’d be able to bring in on short notice. It’s not a massive selection, but we should have no problem accommodating your needs.”
“Great. Thanks,” a queasy-looking Haliska replied.
Hesitation flickered in Naltor’s eyes, debating whether to press the aliens. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements; the FAI convention center should be perfect. I’m sure the rest of Tassi’s fellow scientists will be delighted to chip in, work shifts be damned. Shall we head to the vehicles?”
Dustin dipped his head. “Lead the way.”
The Selmer general clasped his flippers behind his back, and strode over to the convoy we’d come from. My mind was dazed from everything that had unfolded, but a mystery had made itself plain to me. As tempted as it was to zero in on cultural details, I needed to devote some focus to learning the details of the strange attitudes relating to the human and the feast.
---
First Next Bissem Lore!
Book 1 Patreon Subreddit Discord Paperback
2024.01.07 20:09 Aftel43 Mechanized Mystery, part 28.
Next day we began simulations with approach to the facility our insertion craft are being built and we received news that the attack is going to be delayed for multiple of factors. First, the south continent forces have received damage enough to continue being on defensive and force a choice to stay on defensive.
Epsilon teams also requested more time to train, to train me and train along with Spear. Epsilon Two is happy to work with Spear, this being soldier through and through, to get best from the team though, whose job is to destroy signal jamming array, needs this further training time. This needs to go perfectly. Epsilon One, needs to train me more.
They do see the value on having me with the precursor armor and technology in it. Giving them good knowledge of what is going on, it just requires me to not loose my nerves and stay active. Tefilai ran calibration of the human scout rifle and assault rifle, conclusion is this.
The weapons have less kinetic energy transferred, slightly greater recoil, slightly less magazine capacity and due to the ammo not being caseless weigh notably more. Although, the soldier using these weapons are definitely on the better capability scale, the equipment certainly could be better.
We need at least two weeks, to get everything into the nanometric precision. We probably only get one assault and no more. Situation in other continents is stable but, there is combat, one of our conversations touched on about world wars. Realization of this is how it felt back then... Was a rather surprising one.
Thankfully it is mostly automated war machines getting destroyed but, not much two and two need to put to together to think about how it would look with human element in all of it. It sent chills in our bones, thankfully this isn't anything like it... Just can't help but, feel sorry for those who lived through all of it during those times.
At one point, I had stopped being too nervous for being shot at and became more active in firefights, from here, the training started to actually produce results at a more positive tone and slowly in quality and rate. Other Epsilon One members didn't say anything until we got to the best we could do within ten days. They all just looked at me and said.
'Well, our turtle is finally stretching... How does it feel to be shot at now?' My intention was to reply with. 'Mostly slightly annoying as they are resisting what we need to do.' Although I was stopped before beginning to reply, by the thought of. 'Hey I have changed without noticing it all that much.' I have began grow closer to the team.
Which is yielding better results from the exercises and challenges. At day fourteen, our insertion craft and vehicles were ready. The assault starts tomorrow. Tefilai is very aware of my changes, whole time I have been wearing the suit and helmet. Well, it was strange but, Tefilai is slowly nailing it where the suit needs to pitch in on helping me.
We went to sleep early in the fourteenth day, we needed to be up and ready very early morning of the fifteenth. That day finally is here, we wake up early and immediately begin getting ready. Banner, Wind and the cruiser have made sure that not even a hint of this assault is given. The condition is green so far...
We eat what was allotted and drink what we need. We are going to be under fire for three hours when our sabotage has been noticed, unless we hit both at the same time. We know our facilities inside and out, we have prepared for the worst, now, only thing we can do. Is execute the plan. Perfection, IS, the only acceptable outcome.
Not even a word is uttered as we board the stealth insertion boats operated by humans, naval forces will launch a barrage of missiles to areas where enemy vessels are confirmed to be at. They take us to the point of entry and we wait on the coastal rocks. We spot the incoming missiles, they hit the specified areas, unleashing a cascade of explosions.
Cooked munitions, exploding reactors, roars of metal being ruptured or torn apart. We immediately make a run for it, Epsilon one is ready to kick the door down, my armor and helmet's scan revealed the target's inside and I motion the positions to my team. We enter and tear down the resistance, not even a singular input of the robotic infantry was given.
We enter, taking with us all of the ammo we have, we need to hold this facility for three hours, only then we can stand down, as the allied forces will have secured the area. We continue the assault and close tactically beneficial doors behind us. We need killing zones, and as many of them as possible.
Main control room, after ten minutes from the ballistic missile attack. Scan reveals and tracks the remaining targets, they hurrying to get into positions, they found out that somebody has sliced into the into the building and making way here. I motion the positions of the enemies to my team. Two of them prepare flash grenade launchers, they nod.
I open the door and give covering fire with Parel. 'Launching.' Gadel and Trent say at the same time just as Parel and I took cover. They launched the grenades, bang, great flash of light filled the main computer room, I rush in first, receiving plenty of hits on my energy shielding, not critical but, in caution zone, 40% left. It was mostly blind fire, and I begin taking down the infantry targets with my scout rifle.
Firing in sync with Parel, Gadel and Trent. We manage to cut down eight out of sixteen enemy occupants of the control room. Flash has now worn off and now, it is opportunism that will get us through. We take advantage of the confusion following recovery from the flash, synchronized gun fire cleaning the main computer area occupying four enemy infantry robots.
'Start the hack!' Pavel shouts as both, me and him open fire at the remaining four infantry robots to force them into take cover. Trent and Gadel got to the computers and begin cutting the connection, realign the connection and then secure it. My shields have recharged as I change my position to jump down on one of the robots. Pavel manages to dispatch one of the four remaining with counter fire.
Taking advantage of my position by being in the flank of one of the robots that is firing at Pavel. I eliminate his intended secondary target as he is reloading, I hear the robots beginning to move, vaulting over the railing and eject third magazine I have spent. Landing was perfect, right onto the robot that was my intended target. Pavel takes advantage of the chaos.
And shot down the last robot. There will be more, Pavel and I, immediately go to retrieve our ammunition. It is enough for five hours, I join the hacking and get access to the security after few minutes. Twenty seven minutes since the impact of the ballistic missiles... I have managed to close doors and flip the automated defenses on our side.
I programmed them to only fire at infantry robots, as those are the biggest concern. After thirty nine minutes from the impact, the communication facility is now transmitting communications from the allied network. 'Epsilon One, report your situation.' Banner states, mildly nervous and slightly afraid.
'This is Epsilon One, the communication facility is ours, we need reinforcements ASAP, over.' Pavel states professionally but, from his voice, I can tell that he is in high energy state.
Banner sighed in very relieved tone. 'Epsilon Two, come in, over.' Banner says clearly knowing our situation.
'This is Epsilon Two, our mission is complete and we are running to regroup with Epsilon One. We need those reinforcements ASAP, over.' Spear states in hurried tone.
'Roger that, we have attack aircraft ready to bombard what you need, Epsilon. Do you have access to the camera network? one.' Banner states calmly.
'It will do, break the line as soon as possible, over.' Spear replies, we are all relieved for now... The main objective is completed.
'We have access to the perimeter camera network ma'am. We will second coordinates as targets appear, over.' Pavel states.
'Stay alive there team Epsilon. We are currently cracking the defensive line, over.' Banner replies.
'How long until they are here?' Pavel asks calmly.
'Optimistic estimation is two hours, most likely estimation is that in three. Just stay alive, don't allow them to flip the switch, delay and eliminate as many as possible. Illica, route the camera feeds to us, we will provide fire support as long as they stay up, take furthest defensive positions as possible and stay alert.' Banner gives her order to us.
'Wind, guide me through this.' State quickly and gently take Trent's position on at the main computer who acknowledged the command. Trent went to watch the perimeter cameras, as I began routing the feed also to the main command unit.
After a hour from the ballistic missile barrage impact. 'We got hostiles inbound from heading zero zero eight, and two nine two. Distance, six hundred meters, all foot mobile. I am counting, plus ten combined.' Trent says not liking the situation.
'Routing successful, keep us informed if eyes get destroyed.' Say and nod to others, we need to get into the positions to keep them off of us.
'Alright, I will call out targets and coordinate air strikes on vehicles. Just keep the infantry out of the building.' Wind says in her usual tone.
'Epsilon Two is approaching from heading three four four.' Gadel reports.
'Epsilon One, glad to know we didn't miss the party, over.' Spear says somewhat relieved.
'Get your team inside and have them relax for a while. It will be a fireworks show of a life time, over.' Reply to what Spear said mildly content and knowing he most likely likes that kind of response.
He chuckled a bit. 'Oh yes, I most certainly pitch in, over.' Spear states.
Epsilon one spreads out to respond to the incoming infantry assaults, I am with Trent, while Pavel and Gadel are holding the other direction. After few minutes, second firefight was initiated between us and corrupted AI's controlled robotic infantry. We have the best advantage right now, taking advantage of cover and intelligence.
Epsilon Two has now rendezvous with us and Spear tells them to go take positions in the computer room and call out targets. He meanwhile went to take one of the defense positions. One hour has passed since us taking over the communication facility in the enemy force's controlled half of the continent, we are receiving pressure from the infantry but, it is light for now.
When second hour had passed, we are running low on ammo, but, few allied vehicles have taken positions to cover some of the entrances allowing us to concentrate infantry defense better answer incoming attacks. Upon end of the third hour. 'Epsilon team, stand down... Victory ours, we have seized the southern continent.' Banner states and a lot people cheer.
We also cheer. I am spent for this day, that was hell... 'Where's our transport? We are spent for a while now...' Pavel says to the radio.
'They are making a landing, they are unloading engineering vehicles to rebuild, don't worry, you have aerial escort ready to take you back home.' Wind replies in her usual tone. None of us are injured but, we are exhausted, so much so that we can only walk. As we exit the facility, there is indeed a transport plane unloading the engineering vehicles.
We enter when it was fully empty, there is some medics to help us and begin checking us. 'This is medic Ganssen, we have the commandos with us now. They are fine, but, they really could use a rest.' One of the medics radio. They helped us inside of the transport and, it immediately began ascending.
'None of them are injured?' Salve asks somewhat bewildered by the report.
'No sir. They are green in terms of health but, yellow on stamina. This war will be over soon.' Ganssen replies.
'Good work out there gentlemen. We will have the navy and ground forces start occupying the area, let's get you home, fed, hydrated and ready for some rest.' Salve states.
'Just, three more continents... We never even got here before...' Spear says calmly, thinking about the past.
'It isn't over yet, three continents, and the deletion of the corrupted AI, making sure that the computer it was in will never spawn another like that, is also a priority.' Banner states, feeling how close the true victory is.
'Those are still far away, sorry to be a downer, ma'am.' Pavel says in exhausted tone.
'You are right soldier. It is just as Spear stated... Three more to go, we didn't get this far previously. We fought so hard back then, only to sealed away into bitter darkness to wait. I will talk to the captain, about how we should proceed. The corrupted AI is backed into a corner... And, it will brew up a storm to defend.' Banner replies taking a moment to think.
We take soft seats to rest on, while the medics talk to us and provide food and drink when we ask for some. 'This is a lot of data that will take time to process, you have performed in an excellent level today Illica.' Tefilai says comforting me, here and there, my body is sore. From physical stress from running and actions in general.
The suit and helmet have been an absolute blessing to me. It made everything a whole lot easier. If there are injuries it is mostly exertion on the muscles. (Thank you Tefilai, for helping me so much.) Think of what I want to say to her.
'Just focus on resting and don't burden your mind right now. Others will take it from here.' Tefilai replies in soothing tone.
(At least keep some kind of conversation with me...) Think of my reply to what she said to me.
'Well, what would you consider an easy conversation topic then?' She asks calmly.
(Maybe... You could ask, about... My exploration of other systems. Before I came here?) Think of my answer.
'That actually is a good topic. Most likely something that could allow you to cool down.' Tefilai states little bit surprised that I still have good cohesion of thought... Probably. Started thinking about the other planets that I had visited. Most of them were in the middle of uninhabitable or hostile in some way.
Some planets, maybe there already is a project on going that they are getting colonized... Me, from a town girl, to an explorer, the first test of whether this advanced technology, is suitable for a human. For now, I can think to that... It does work just fine, well, unless you are absolutely against a high speed data transmitter implanted on your spine and brain.
Thankfully, it isn't physically connected to the suit and helmet, no need to worry for suit technology suddenly go haywire from sudden disconnect.
'The issue mostly is whether the technology and materials are not bad for your health. For now, they haven't prompted a biological response, but, that might not be with every individual. I do not believe you are just special in some aspects, I just think you adapt to changing situations in a reasonable and calm manner. Which made the augmentation very easy.' Tefilai states.
(I should have remembered that you can track what I am thinking... Sorry about that.) Think of what I want to say.
'You are fine Illica, just rest.' Tefilai replies amused by my worry.
Flight takes a while, the food and drinks we got helped us to recover, we aren't fit for combat though, at least for a while. We gave our reports and talk with the commanders, Spear helps me into an APC and drives me to my ship.
During that time, I feel a lot better but, no thanks for more combat missions. 'Great work Illica, that couldn't have gone any better.' Spear says, genuinely impressed with how I performed.
'Thank you Spear, you also performed magnificently.' Reply to Spear's words to me.
'I need to get back to the command unit, I am very low on battery and, after that... I do need to do some work on the data I have acquired.' Spear states.
'Take it easy.' Say calmly to him and he nods in response. I get out of the APC and walk into my ship while Spear drives away. When I entered my ship, felt something strange about the suit and helmet, they tighten and fill the empty space with some type of cushion. It ended as suddenly as it started.(Tefilai, what did you do?) Think of my question.
'That was suit's and helmet's own doing, eliminating unnecessary empty space and making itself far more comfortable to wear. The code is ahead of me in terms of adapting to better fill your requirements of it. Mostly because this isn't really what I would do primarily.' Tefilai replies as I walk towards my bed.
(Is there anything else it is going to do?) Ask by thinking.
'Let me see...' Tefilai states and probably started investigating. 'It is making something available, I am not familiar with this model. It seems to be related to mobility and there is multiple systems being adapted for your use.' Tefilai adds, genuinely surprised by the suit and helmet systems.
Then felt some kind of tremble going from my helmet to my suit, after that, heard some kind of ticking sound which ended after three times hearing it. (What was that?) Think as I feel somewhat alarmed by what I just experienced.
'Additional abilities are now completely available, two to be precise, there is two more that still need data and time to be adapted to suit your needs but, this is simply incredible. Didn't at all think they would get this fast adapted to you.' Tefilai says, still amazed.
(Talk me through them?) Ask by thinking it, as I am still in the dark about what just happened.
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Epsilon teams also requested more time to train, to train me and train along with Spear. Epsilon Two is happy to work with Spear, this being soldier through and through, to get best from the team though, whose job is to destroy signal jamming array, needs this further training time. This needs to go perfectly. Epsilon One, needs to train me more.
They do see the value on having me with the precursor armor and technology in it. Giving them good knowledge of what is going on, it just requires me to not loose my nerves and stay active. Tefilai ran calibration of the human scout rifle and assault rifle, conclusion is this.
The weapons have less kinetic energy transferred, slightly greater recoil, slightly less magazine capacity and due to the ammo not being caseless weigh notably more. Although, the soldier using these weapons are definitely on the better capability scale, the equipment certainly could be better.
We need at least two weeks, to get everything into the nanometric precision. We probably only get one assault and no more. Situation in other continents is stable but, there is combat, one of our conversations touched on about world wars. Realization of this is how it felt back then... Was a rather surprising one.
Thankfully it is mostly automated war machines getting destroyed but, not much two and two need to put to together to think about how it would look with human element in all of it. It sent chills in our bones, thankfully this isn't anything like it... Just can't help but, feel sorry for those who lived through all of it during those times.
At one point, I had stopped being too nervous for being shot at and became more active in firefights, from here, the training started to actually produce results at a more positive tone and slowly in quality and rate. Other Epsilon One members didn't say anything until we got to the best we could do within ten days. They all just looked at me and said.
'Well, our turtle is finally stretching... How does it feel to be shot at now?' My intention was to reply with. 'Mostly slightly annoying as they are resisting what we need to do.' Although I was stopped before beginning to reply, by the thought of. 'Hey I have changed without noticing it all that much.' I have began grow closer to the team.
Which is yielding better results from the exercises and challenges. At day fourteen, our insertion craft and vehicles were ready. The assault starts tomorrow. Tefilai is very aware of my changes, whole time I have been wearing the suit and helmet. Well, it was strange but, Tefilai is slowly nailing it where the suit needs to pitch in on helping me.
We went to sleep early in the fourteenth day, we needed to be up and ready very early morning of the fifteenth. That day finally is here, we wake up early and immediately begin getting ready. Banner, Wind and the cruiser have made sure that not even a hint of this assault is given. The condition is green so far...
We eat what was allotted and drink what we need. We are going to be under fire for three hours when our sabotage has been noticed, unless we hit both at the same time. We know our facilities inside and out, we have prepared for the worst, now, only thing we can do. Is execute the plan. Perfection, IS, the only acceptable outcome.
Not even a word is uttered as we board the stealth insertion boats operated by humans, naval forces will launch a barrage of missiles to areas where enemy vessels are confirmed to be at. They take us to the point of entry and we wait on the coastal rocks. We spot the incoming missiles, they hit the specified areas, unleashing a cascade of explosions.
Cooked munitions, exploding reactors, roars of metal being ruptured or torn apart. We immediately make a run for it, Epsilon one is ready to kick the door down, my armor and helmet's scan revealed the target's inside and I motion the positions to my team. We enter and tear down the resistance, not even a singular input of the robotic infantry was given.
We enter, taking with us all of the ammo we have, we need to hold this facility for three hours, only then we can stand down, as the allied forces will have secured the area. We continue the assault and close tactically beneficial doors behind us. We need killing zones, and as many of them as possible.
Main control room, after ten minutes from the ballistic missile attack. Scan reveals and tracks the remaining targets, they hurrying to get into positions, they found out that somebody has sliced into the into the building and making way here. I motion the positions of the enemies to my team. Two of them prepare flash grenade launchers, they nod.
I open the door and give covering fire with Parel. 'Launching.' Gadel and Trent say at the same time just as Parel and I took cover. They launched the grenades, bang, great flash of light filled the main computer room, I rush in first, receiving plenty of hits on my energy shielding, not critical but, in caution zone, 40% left. It was mostly blind fire, and I begin taking down the infantry targets with my scout rifle.
Firing in sync with Parel, Gadel and Trent. We manage to cut down eight out of sixteen enemy occupants of the control room. Flash has now worn off and now, it is opportunism that will get us through. We take advantage of the confusion following recovery from the flash, synchronized gun fire cleaning the main computer area occupying four enemy infantry robots.
'Start the hack!' Pavel shouts as both, me and him open fire at the remaining four infantry robots to force them into take cover. Trent and Gadel got to the computers and begin cutting the connection, realign the connection and then secure it. My shields have recharged as I change my position to jump down on one of the robots. Pavel manages to dispatch one of the four remaining with counter fire.
Taking advantage of my position by being in the flank of one of the robots that is firing at Pavel. I eliminate his intended secondary target as he is reloading, I hear the robots beginning to move, vaulting over the railing and eject third magazine I have spent. Landing was perfect, right onto the robot that was my intended target. Pavel takes advantage of the chaos.
And shot down the last robot. There will be more, Pavel and I, immediately go to retrieve our ammunition. It is enough for five hours, I join the hacking and get access to the security after few minutes. Twenty seven minutes since the impact of the ballistic missiles... I have managed to close doors and flip the automated defenses on our side.
I programmed them to only fire at infantry robots, as those are the biggest concern. After thirty nine minutes from the impact, the communication facility is now transmitting communications from the allied network. 'Epsilon One, report your situation.' Banner states, mildly nervous and slightly afraid.
'This is Epsilon One, the communication facility is ours, we need reinforcements ASAP, over.' Pavel states professionally but, from his voice, I can tell that he is in high energy state.
Banner sighed in very relieved tone. 'Epsilon Two, come in, over.' Banner says clearly knowing our situation.
'This is Epsilon Two, our mission is complete and we are running to regroup with Epsilon One. We need those reinforcements ASAP, over.' Spear states in hurried tone.
'Roger that, we have attack aircraft ready to bombard what you need, Epsilon. Do you have access to the camera network? one.' Banner states calmly.
'It will do, break the line as soon as possible, over.' Spear replies, we are all relieved for now... The main objective is completed.
'We have access to the perimeter camera network ma'am. We will second coordinates as targets appear, over.' Pavel states.
'Stay alive there team Epsilon. We are currently cracking the defensive line, over.' Banner replies.
'How long until they are here?' Pavel asks calmly.
'Optimistic estimation is two hours, most likely estimation is that in three. Just stay alive, don't allow them to flip the switch, delay and eliminate as many as possible. Illica, route the camera feeds to us, we will provide fire support as long as they stay up, take furthest defensive positions as possible and stay alert.' Banner gives her order to us.
'Wind, guide me through this.' State quickly and gently take Trent's position on at the main computer who acknowledged the command. Trent went to watch the perimeter cameras, as I began routing the feed also to the main command unit.
After a hour from the ballistic missile barrage impact. 'We got hostiles inbound from heading zero zero eight, and two nine two. Distance, six hundred meters, all foot mobile. I am counting, plus ten combined.' Trent says not liking the situation.
'Routing successful, keep us informed if eyes get destroyed.' Say and nod to others, we need to get into the positions to keep them off of us.
'Alright, I will call out targets and coordinate air strikes on vehicles. Just keep the infantry out of the building.' Wind says in her usual tone.
'Epsilon Two is approaching from heading three four four.' Gadel reports.
'Epsilon One, glad to know we didn't miss the party, over.' Spear says somewhat relieved.
'Get your team inside and have them relax for a while. It will be a fireworks show of a life time, over.' Reply to what Spear said mildly content and knowing he most likely likes that kind of response.
He chuckled a bit. 'Oh yes, I most certainly pitch in, over.' Spear states.
Epsilon one spreads out to respond to the incoming infantry assaults, I am with Trent, while Pavel and Gadel are holding the other direction. After few minutes, second firefight was initiated between us and corrupted AI's controlled robotic infantry. We have the best advantage right now, taking advantage of cover and intelligence.
Epsilon Two has now rendezvous with us and Spear tells them to go take positions in the computer room and call out targets. He meanwhile went to take one of the defense positions. One hour has passed since us taking over the communication facility in the enemy force's controlled half of the continent, we are receiving pressure from the infantry but, it is light for now.
When second hour had passed, we are running low on ammo, but, few allied vehicles have taken positions to cover some of the entrances allowing us to concentrate infantry defense better answer incoming attacks. Upon end of the third hour. 'Epsilon team, stand down... Victory ours, we have seized the southern continent.' Banner states and a lot people cheer.
We also cheer. I am spent for this day, that was hell... 'Where's our transport? We are spent for a while now...' Pavel says to the radio.
'They are making a landing, they are unloading engineering vehicles to rebuild, don't worry, you have aerial escort ready to take you back home.' Wind replies in her usual tone. None of us are injured but, we are exhausted, so much so that we can only walk. As we exit the facility, there is indeed a transport plane unloading the engineering vehicles.
We enter when it was fully empty, there is some medics to help us and begin checking us. 'This is medic Ganssen, we have the commandos with us now. They are fine, but, they really could use a rest.' One of the medics radio. They helped us inside of the transport and, it immediately began ascending.
'None of them are injured?' Salve asks somewhat bewildered by the report.
'No sir. They are green in terms of health but, yellow on stamina. This war will be over soon.' Ganssen replies.
'Good work out there gentlemen. We will have the navy and ground forces start occupying the area, let's get you home, fed, hydrated and ready for some rest.' Salve states.
'Just, three more continents... We never even got here before...' Spear says calmly, thinking about the past.
'It isn't over yet, three continents, and the deletion of the corrupted AI, making sure that the computer it was in will never spawn another like that, is also a priority.' Banner states, feeling how close the true victory is.
'Those are still far away, sorry to be a downer, ma'am.' Pavel says in exhausted tone.
'You are right soldier. It is just as Spear stated... Three more to go, we didn't get this far previously. We fought so hard back then, only to sealed away into bitter darkness to wait. I will talk to the captain, about how we should proceed. The corrupted AI is backed into a corner... And, it will brew up a storm to defend.' Banner replies taking a moment to think.
We take soft seats to rest on, while the medics talk to us and provide food and drink when we ask for some. 'This is a lot of data that will take time to process, you have performed in an excellent level today Illica.' Tefilai says comforting me, here and there, my body is sore. From physical stress from running and actions in general.
The suit and helmet have been an absolute blessing to me. It made everything a whole lot easier. If there are injuries it is mostly exertion on the muscles. (Thank you Tefilai, for helping me so much.) Think of what I want to say to her.
'Just focus on resting and don't burden your mind right now. Others will take it from here.' Tefilai replies in soothing tone.
(At least keep some kind of conversation with me...) Think of my reply to what she said to me.
'Well, what would you consider an easy conversation topic then?' She asks calmly.
(Maybe... You could ask, about... My exploration of other systems. Before I came here?) Think of my answer.
'That actually is a good topic. Most likely something that could allow you to cool down.' Tefilai states little bit surprised that I still have good cohesion of thought... Probably. Started thinking about the other planets that I had visited. Most of them were in the middle of uninhabitable or hostile in some way.
Some planets, maybe there already is a project on going that they are getting colonized... Me, from a town girl, to an explorer, the first test of whether this advanced technology, is suitable for a human. For now, I can think to that... It does work just fine, well, unless you are absolutely against a high speed data transmitter implanted on your spine and brain.
Thankfully, it isn't physically connected to the suit and helmet, no need to worry for suit technology suddenly go haywire from sudden disconnect.
'The issue mostly is whether the technology and materials are not bad for your health. For now, they haven't prompted a biological response, but, that might not be with every individual. I do not believe you are just special in some aspects, I just think you adapt to changing situations in a reasonable and calm manner. Which made the augmentation very easy.' Tefilai states.
(I should have remembered that you can track what I am thinking... Sorry about that.) Think of what I want to say.
'You are fine Illica, just rest.' Tefilai replies amused by my worry.
Flight takes a while, the food and drinks we got helped us to recover, we aren't fit for combat though, at least for a while. We gave our reports and talk with the commanders, Spear helps me into an APC and drives me to my ship.
During that time, I feel a lot better but, no thanks for more combat missions. 'Great work Illica, that couldn't have gone any better.' Spear says, genuinely impressed with how I performed.
'Thank you Spear, you also performed magnificently.' Reply to Spear's words to me.
'I need to get back to the command unit, I am very low on battery and, after that... I do need to do some work on the data I have acquired.' Spear states.
'Take it easy.' Say calmly to him and he nods in response. I get out of the APC and walk into my ship while Spear drives away. When I entered my ship, felt something strange about the suit and helmet, they tighten and fill the empty space with some type of cushion. It ended as suddenly as it started.(Tefilai, what did you do?) Think of my question.
'That was suit's and helmet's own doing, eliminating unnecessary empty space and making itself far more comfortable to wear. The code is ahead of me in terms of adapting to better fill your requirements of it. Mostly because this isn't really what I would do primarily.' Tefilai replies as I walk towards my bed.
(Is there anything else it is going to do?) Ask by thinking.
'Let me see...' Tefilai states and probably started investigating. 'It is making something available, I am not familiar with this model. It seems to be related to mobility and there is multiple systems being adapted for your use.' Tefilai adds, genuinely surprised by the suit and helmet systems.
Then felt some kind of tremble going from my helmet to my suit, after that, heard some kind of ticking sound which ended after three times hearing it. (What was that?) Think as I feel somewhat alarmed by what I just experienced.
'Additional abilities are now completely available, two to be precise, there is two more that still need data and time to be adapted to suit your needs but, this is simply incredible. Didn't at all think they would get this fast adapted to you.' Tefilai says, still amazed.
(Talk me through them?) Ask by thinking it, as I am still in the dark about what just happened.
2024.01.07 20:08 Aftel43 [SF] Mechanized Mystery, part 28.
Next day we began simulations with approach to the facility our insertion craft are being built and we received news that the attack is going to be delayed for multiple of factors. First, the south continent forces have received damage enough to continue being on defensive and force a choice to stay on defensive.
Epsilon teams also requested more time to train, to train me and train along with Spear. Epsilon Two is happy to work with Spear, this being soldier through and through, to get best from the team though, whose job is to destroy signal jamming array, needs this further training time. This needs to go perfectly. Epsilon One, needs to train me more.
They do see the value on having me with the precursor armor and technology in it. Giving them good knowledge of what is going on, it just requires me to not loose my nerves and stay active. Tefilai ran calibration of the human scout rifle and assault rifle, conclusion is this.
The weapons have less kinetic energy transferred, slightly greater recoil, slightly less magazine capacity and due to the ammo not being caseless weigh notably more. Although, the soldier using these weapons are definitely on the better capability scale, the equipment certainly could be better.
We need at least two weeks, to get everything into the nanometric precision. We probably only get one assault and no more. Situation in other continents is stable but, there is combat, one of our conversations touched on about world wars. Realization of this is how it felt back then... Was a rather surprising one.
Thankfully it is mostly automated war machines getting destroyed but, not much two and two need to put to together to think about how it would look with human element in all of it. It sent chills in our bones, thankfully this isn't anything like it... Just can't help but, feel sorry for those who lived through all of it during those times.
At one point, I had stopped being too nervous for being shot at and became more active in firefights, from here, the training started to actually produce results at a more positive tone and slowly in quality and rate. Other Epsilon One members didn't say anything until we got to the best we could do within ten days. They all just looked at me and said.
'Well, our turtle is finally stretching... How does it feel to be shot at now?' My intention was to reply with. 'Mostly slightly annoying as they are resisting what we need to do.' Although I was stopped before beginning to reply, by the thought of. 'Hey I have changed without noticing it all that much.' I have began grow closer to the team.
Which is yielding better results from the exercises and challenges. At day fourteen, our insertion craft and vehicles were ready. The assault starts tomorrow. Tefilai is very aware of my changes, whole time I have been wearing the suit and helmet. Well, it was strange but, Tefilai is slowly nailing it where the suit needs to pitch in on helping me.
We went to sleep early in the fourteenth day, we needed to be up and ready very early morning of the fifteenth. That day finally is here, we wake up early and immediately begin getting ready. Banner, Wind and the cruiser have made sure that not even a hint of this assault is given. The condition is green so far...
We eat what was allotted and drink what we need. We are going to be under fire for three hours when our sabotage has been noticed, unless we hit both at the same time. We know our facilities inside and out, we have prepared for the worst, now, only thing we can do. Is execute the plan. Perfection, IS, the only acceptable outcome.
Not even a word is uttered as we board the stealth insertion boats operated by humans, naval forces will launch a barrage of missiles to areas where enemy vessels are confirmed to be at. They take us to the point of entry and we wait on the coastal rocks. We spot the incoming missiles, they hit the specified areas, unleashing a cascade of explosions.
Cooked munitions, exploding reactors, roars of metal being ruptured or torn apart. We immediately make a run for it, Epsilon one is ready to kick the door down, my armor and helmet's scan revealed the target's inside and I motion the positions to my team. We enter and tear down the resistance, not even a singular input of the robotic infantry was given.
We enter, taking with us all of the ammo we have, we need to hold this facility for three hours, only then we can stand down, as the allied forces will have secured the area. We continue the assault and close tactically beneficial doors behind us. We need killing zones, and as many of them as possible.
Main control room, after ten minutes from the ballistic missile attack. Scan reveals and tracks the remaining targets, they hurrying to get into positions, they found out that somebody has sliced into the into the building and making way here. I motion the positions of the enemies to my team. Two of them prepare flash grenade launchers, they nod.
I open the door and give covering fire with Parel. 'Launching.' Gadel and Trent say at the same time just as Parel and I took cover. They launched the grenades, bang, great flash of light filled the main computer room, I rush in first, receiving plenty of hits on my energy shielding, not critical but, in caution zone, 40% left. It was mostly blind fire, and I begin taking down the infantry targets with my scout rifle.
Firing in sync with Parel, Gadel and Trent. We manage to cut down eight out of sixteen enemy occupants of the control room. Flash has now worn off and now, it is opportunism that will get us through. We take advantage of the confusion following recovery from the flash, synchronized gun fire cleaning the main computer area occupying four enemy infantry robots.
'Start the hack!' Pavel shouts as both, me and him open fire at the remaining four infantry robots to force them into take cover. Trent and Gadel got to the computers and begin cutting the connection, realign the connection and then secure it. My shields have recharged as I change my position to jump down on one of the robots. Pavel manages to dispatch one of the four remaining with counter fire.
Taking advantage of my position by being in the flank of one of the robots that is firing at Pavel. I eliminate his intended secondary target as he is reloading, I hear the robots beginning to move, vaulting over the railing and eject third magazine I have spent. Landing was perfect, right onto the robot that was my intended target. Pavel takes advantage of the chaos.
And shot down the last robot. There will be more, Pavel and I, immediately go to retrieve our ammunition. It is enough for five hours, I join the hacking and get access to the security after few minutes. Twenty seven minutes since the impact of the ballistic missiles... I have managed to close doors and flip the automated defenses on our side.
I programmed them to only fire at infantry robots, as those are the biggest concern. After thirty nine minutes from the impact, the communication facility is now transmitting communications from the allied network. 'Epsilon One, report your situation.' Banner states, mildly nervous and slightly afraid.
'This is Epsilon One, the communication facility is ours, we need reinforcements ASAP, over.' Pavel states professionally but, from his voice, I can tell that he is in high energy state.
Banner sighed in very relieved tone. 'Epsilon Two, come in, over.' Banner says clearly knowing our situation.
'This is Epsilon Two, our mission is complete and we are running to regroup with Epsilon One. We need those reinforcements ASAP, over.' Spear states in hurried tone.
'Roger that, we have attack aircraft ready to bombard what you need, Epsilon. Do you have access to the camera network? one.' Banner states calmly.
'It will do, break the line as soon as possible, over.' Spear replies, we are all relieved for now... The main objective is completed.
'We have access to the perimeter camera network ma'am. We will second coordinates as targets appear, over.' Pavel states.
'Stay alive there team Epsilon. We are currently cracking the defensive line, over.' Banner replies.
'How long until they are here?' Pavel asks calmly.
'Optimistic estimation is two hours, most likely estimation is that in three. Just stay alive, don't allow them to flip the switch, delay and eliminate as many as possible. Illica, route the camera feeds to us, we will provide fire support as long as they stay up, take furthest defensive positions as possible and stay alert.' Banner gives her order to us.
'Wind, guide me through this.' State quickly and gently take Trent's position on at the main computer who acknowledged the command. Trent went to watch the perimeter cameras, as I began routing the feed also to the main command unit.
After a hour from the ballistic missile barrage impact. 'We got hostiles inbound from heading zero zero eight, and two nine two. Distance, six hundred meters, all foot mobile. I am counting, plus ten combined.' Trent says not liking the situation.
'Routing successful, keep us informed if eyes get destroyed.' Say and nod to others, we need to get into the positions to keep them off of us.
'Alright, I will call out targets and coordinate air strikes on vehicles. Just keep the infantry out of the building.' Wind says in her usual tone.
'Epsilon Two is approaching from heading three four four.' Gadel reports.
'Epsilon One, glad to know we didn't miss the party, over.' Spear says somewhat relieved.
'Get your team inside and have them relax for a while. It will be a fireworks show of a life time, over.' Reply to what Spear said mildly content and knowing he most likely likes that kind of response.
He chuckled a bit. 'Oh yes, I most certainly pitch in, over.' Spear states.
Epsilon one spreads out to respond to the incoming infantry assaults, I am with Trent, while Pavel and Gadel are holding the other direction. After few minutes, second firefight was initiated between us and corrupted AI's controlled robotic infantry. We have the best advantage right now, taking advantage of cover and intelligence.
Epsilon Two has now rendezvous with us and Spear tells them to go take positions in the computer room and call out targets. He meanwhile went to take one of the defense positions. One hour has passed since us taking over the communication facility in the enemy force's controlled half of the continent, we are receiving pressure from the infantry but, it is light for now.
When second hour had passed, we are running low on ammo, but, few allied vehicles have taken positions to cover some of the entrances allowing us to concentrate infantry defense better answer incoming attacks. Upon end of the third hour. 'Epsilon team, stand down... Victory ours, we have seized the southern continent.' Banner states and a lot people cheer.
We also cheer. I am spent for this day, that was hell... 'Where's our transport? We are spent for a while now...' Pavel says to the radio.
'They are making a landing, they are unloading engineering vehicles to rebuild, don't worry, you have aerial escort ready to take you back home.' Wind replies in her usual tone. None of us are injured but, we are exhausted, so much so that we can only walk. As we exit the facility, there is indeed a transport plane unloading the engineering vehicles.
We enter when it was fully empty, there is some medics to help us and begin checking us. 'This is medic Ganssen, we have the commandos with us now. They are fine, but, they really could use a rest.' One of the medics radio. They helped us inside of the transport and, it immediately began ascending.
'None of them are injured?' Salve asks somewhat bewildered by the report.
'No sir. They are green in terms of health but, yellow on stamina. This war will be over soon.' Ganssen replies.
'Good work out there gentlemen. We will have the navy and ground forces start occupying the area, let's get you home, fed, hydrated and ready for some rest.' Salve states.
'Just, three more continents... We never even got here before...' Spear says calmly, thinking about the past.
'It isn't over yet, three continents, and the deletion of the corrupted AI, making sure that the computer it was in will never spawn another like that, is also a priority.' Banner states, feeling how close the true victory is.
'Those are still far away, sorry to be a downer, ma'am.' Pavel says in exhausted tone.
'You are right soldier. It is just as Spear stated... Three more to go, we didn't get this far previously. We fought so hard back then, only to sealed away into bitter darkness to wait. I will talk to the captain, about how we should proceed. The corrupted AI is backed into a corner... And, it will brew up a storm to defend.' Banner replies taking a moment to think.
We take soft seats to rest on, while the medics talk to us and provide food and drink when we ask for some. 'This is a lot of data that will take time to process, you have performed in an excellent level today Illica.' Tefilai says comforting me, here and there, my body is sore. From physical stress from running and actions in general.
The suit and helmet have been an absolute blessing to me. It made everything a whole lot easier. If there are injuries it is mostly exertion on the muscles. (Thank you Tefilai, for helping me so much.) Think of what I want to say to her.
'Just focus on resting and don't burden your mind right now. Others will take it from here.' Tefilai replies in soothing tone.
(At least keep some kind of conversation with me...) Think of my reply to what she said to me.
'Well, what would you consider an easy conversation topic then?' She asks calmly.
(Maybe... You could ask, about... My exploration of other systems. Before I came here?) Think of my answer.
'That actually is a good topic. Most likely something that could allow you to cool down.' Tefilai states little bit surprised that I still have good cohesion of thought... Probably. Started thinking about the other planets that I had visited. Most of them were in the middle of uninhabitable or hostile in some way.
Some planets, maybe there already is a project on going that they are getting colonized... Me, from a town girl, to an explorer, the first test of whether this advanced technology, is suitable for a human. For now, I can think to that... It does work just fine, well, unless you are absolutely against a high speed data transmitter implanted on your spine and brain.
Thankfully, it isn't physically connected to the suit and helmet, no need to worry for suit technology suddenly go haywire from sudden disconnect.
'The issue mostly is whether the technology and materials are not bad for your health. For now, they haven't prompted a biological response, but, that might not be with every individual. I do not believe you are just special in some aspects, I just think you adapt to changing situations in a reasonable and calm manner. Which made the augmentation very easy.' Tefilai states.
(I should have remembered that you can track what I am thinking... Sorry about that.) Think of what I want to say.
'You are fine Illica, just rest.' Tefilai replies amused by my worry.
Flight takes a while, the food and drinks we got helped us to recover, we aren't fit for combat though, at least for a while. We gave our reports and talk with the commanders, Spear helps me into an APC and drives me to my ship.
During that time, I feel a lot better but, no thanks for more combat missions. 'Great work Illica, that couldn't have gone any better.' Spear says, genuinely impressed with how I performed.
'Thank you Spear, you also performed magnificently.' Reply to Spear's words to me.
'I need to get back to the command unit, I am very low on battery and, after that... I do need to do some work on the data I have acquired.' Spear states.
'Take it easy.' Say calmly to him and he nods in response. I get out of the APC and walk into my ship while Spear drives away. When I entered my ship, felt something strange about the suit and helmet, they tighten and fill the empty space with some type of cushion. It ended as suddenly as it started. (Tefilai, what did you do?) Think of my question.
'That was suit's and helmet's own doing, eliminating unnecessary empty space and making itself far more comfortable to wear. The code is ahead of me in terms of adapting to better fill your requirements of it. Mostly because this isn't really what I would do primarily.' Tefilai replies as I walk towards my bed.
(Is there anything else it is going to do?) Ask by thinking.
'Let me see...' Tefilai states and probably started investigating. 'It is making something available, I am not familiar with this model. It seems to be related to mobility and there is multiple systems being adapted for your use.' Tefilai adds, genuinely surprised by the suit and helmet systems.
Then felt some kind of tremble going from my helmet to my suit, after that, heard some kind of ticking sound which ended after three times hearing it. (What was that?) Think as I feel somewhat alarmed by what I just experienced.
'Additional abilities are now completely available, two to be precise, there is two more that still need data and time to be adapted to suit your needs but, this is simply incredible. Didn't at all think they would get this fast adapted to you.' Tefilai says, still amazed.
(Talk me through them?) Ask by thinking it, as I am still in the dark about what just happened.
submitted by Aftel43 to shortstories [link] [comments]
Epsilon teams also requested more time to train, to train me and train along with Spear. Epsilon Two is happy to work with Spear, this being soldier through and through, to get best from the team though, whose job is to destroy signal jamming array, needs this further training time. This needs to go perfectly. Epsilon One, needs to train me more.
They do see the value on having me with the precursor armor and technology in it. Giving them good knowledge of what is going on, it just requires me to not loose my nerves and stay active. Tefilai ran calibration of the human scout rifle and assault rifle, conclusion is this.
The weapons have less kinetic energy transferred, slightly greater recoil, slightly less magazine capacity and due to the ammo not being caseless weigh notably more. Although, the soldier using these weapons are definitely on the better capability scale, the equipment certainly could be better.
We need at least two weeks, to get everything into the nanometric precision. We probably only get one assault and no more. Situation in other continents is stable but, there is combat, one of our conversations touched on about world wars. Realization of this is how it felt back then... Was a rather surprising one.
Thankfully it is mostly automated war machines getting destroyed but, not much two and two need to put to together to think about how it would look with human element in all of it. It sent chills in our bones, thankfully this isn't anything like it... Just can't help but, feel sorry for those who lived through all of it during those times.
At one point, I had stopped being too nervous for being shot at and became more active in firefights, from here, the training started to actually produce results at a more positive tone and slowly in quality and rate. Other Epsilon One members didn't say anything until we got to the best we could do within ten days. They all just looked at me and said.
'Well, our turtle is finally stretching... How does it feel to be shot at now?' My intention was to reply with. 'Mostly slightly annoying as they are resisting what we need to do.' Although I was stopped before beginning to reply, by the thought of. 'Hey I have changed without noticing it all that much.' I have began grow closer to the team.
Which is yielding better results from the exercises and challenges. At day fourteen, our insertion craft and vehicles were ready. The assault starts tomorrow. Tefilai is very aware of my changes, whole time I have been wearing the suit and helmet. Well, it was strange but, Tefilai is slowly nailing it where the suit needs to pitch in on helping me.
We went to sleep early in the fourteenth day, we needed to be up and ready very early morning of the fifteenth. That day finally is here, we wake up early and immediately begin getting ready. Banner, Wind and the cruiser have made sure that not even a hint of this assault is given. The condition is green so far...
We eat what was allotted and drink what we need. We are going to be under fire for three hours when our sabotage has been noticed, unless we hit both at the same time. We know our facilities inside and out, we have prepared for the worst, now, only thing we can do. Is execute the plan. Perfection, IS, the only acceptable outcome.
Not even a word is uttered as we board the stealth insertion boats operated by humans, naval forces will launch a barrage of missiles to areas where enemy vessels are confirmed to be at. They take us to the point of entry and we wait on the coastal rocks. We spot the incoming missiles, they hit the specified areas, unleashing a cascade of explosions.
Cooked munitions, exploding reactors, roars of metal being ruptured or torn apart. We immediately make a run for it, Epsilon one is ready to kick the door down, my armor and helmet's scan revealed the target's inside and I motion the positions to my team. We enter and tear down the resistance, not even a singular input of the robotic infantry was given.
We enter, taking with us all of the ammo we have, we need to hold this facility for three hours, only then we can stand down, as the allied forces will have secured the area. We continue the assault and close tactically beneficial doors behind us. We need killing zones, and as many of them as possible.
Main control room, after ten minutes from the ballistic missile attack. Scan reveals and tracks the remaining targets, they hurrying to get into positions, they found out that somebody has sliced into the into the building and making way here. I motion the positions of the enemies to my team. Two of them prepare flash grenade launchers, they nod.
I open the door and give covering fire with Parel. 'Launching.' Gadel and Trent say at the same time just as Parel and I took cover. They launched the grenades, bang, great flash of light filled the main computer room, I rush in first, receiving plenty of hits on my energy shielding, not critical but, in caution zone, 40% left. It was mostly blind fire, and I begin taking down the infantry targets with my scout rifle.
Firing in sync with Parel, Gadel and Trent. We manage to cut down eight out of sixteen enemy occupants of the control room. Flash has now worn off and now, it is opportunism that will get us through. We take advantage of the confusion following recovery from the flash, synchronized gun fire cleaning the main computer area occupying four enemy infantry robots.
'Start the hack!' Pavel shouts as both, me and him open fire at the remaining four infantry robots to force them into take cover. Trent and Gadel got to the computers and begin cutting the connection, realign the connection and then secure it. My shields have recharged as I change my position to jump down on one of the robots. Pavel manages to dispatch one of the four remaining with counter fire.
Taking advantage of my position by being in the flank of one of the robots that is firing at Pavel. I eliminate his intended secondary target as he is reloading, I hear the robots beginning to move, vaulting over the railing and eject third magazine I have spent. Landing was perfect, right onto the robot that was my intended target. Pavel takes advantage of the chaos.
And shot down the last robot. There will be more, Pavel and I, immediately go to retrieve our ammunition. It is enough for five hours, I join the hacking and get access to the security after few minutes. Twenty seven minutes since the impact of the ballistic missiles... I have managed to close doors and flip the automated defenses on our side.
I programmed them to only fire at infantry robots, as those are the biggest concern. After thirty nine minutes from the impact, the communication facility is now transmitting communications from the allied network. 'Epsilon One, report your situation.' Banner states, mildly nervous and slightly afraid.
'This is Epsilon One, the communication facility is ours, we need reinforcements ASAP, over.' Pavel states professionally but, from his voice, I can tell that he is in high energy state.
Banner sighed in very relieved tone. 'Epsilon Two, come in, over.' Banner says clearly knowing our situation.
'This is Epsilon Two, our mission is complete and we are running to regroup with Epsilon One. We need those reinforcements ASAP, over.' Spear states in hurried tone.
'Roger that, we have attack aircraft ready to bombard what you need, Epsilon. Do you have access to the camera network? one.' Banner states calmly.
'It will do, break the line as soon as possible, over.' Spear replies, we are all relieved for now... The main objective is completed.
'We have access to the perimeter camera network ma'am. We will second coordinates as targets appear, over.' Pavel states.
'Stay alive there team Epsilon. We are currently cracking the defensive line, over.' Banner replies.
'How long until they are here?' Pavel asks calmly.
'Optimistic estimation is two hours, most likely estimation is that in three. Just stay alive, don't allow them to flip the switch, delay and eliminate as many as possible. Illica, route the camera feeds to us, we will provide fire support as long as they stay up, take furthest defensive positions as possible and stay alert.' Banner gives her order to us.
'Wind, guide me through this.' State quickly and gently take Trent's position on at the main computer who acknowledged the command. Trent went to watch the perimeter cameras, as I began routing the feed also to the main command unit.
After a hour from the ballistic missile barrage impact. 'We got hostiles inbound from heading zero zero eight, and two nine two. Distance, six hundred meters, all foot mobile. I am counting, plus ten combined.' Trent says not liking the situation.
'Routing successful, keep us informed if eyes get destroyed.' Say and nod to others, we need to get into the positions to keep them off of us.
'Alright, I will call out targets and coordinate air strikes on vehicles. Just keep the infantry out of the building.' Wind says in her usual tone.
'Epsilon Two is approaching from heading three four four.' Gadel reports.
'Epsilon One, glad to know we didn't miss the party, over.' Spear says somewhat relieved.
'Get your team inside and have them relax for a while. It will be a fireworks show of a life time, over.' Reply to what Spear said mildly content and knowing he most likely likes that kind of response.
He chuckled a bit. 'Oh yes, I most certainly pitch in, over.' Spear states.
Epsilon one spreads out to respond to the incoming infantry assaults, I am with Trent, while Pavel and Gadel are holding the other direction. After few minutes, second firefight was initiated between us and corrupted AI's controlled robotic infantry. We have the best advantage right now, taking advantage of cover and intelligence.
Epsilon Two has now rendezvous with us and Spear tells them to go take positions in the computer room and call out targets. He meanwhile went to take one of the defense positions. One hour has passed since us taking over the communication facility in the enemy force's controlled half of the continent, we are receiving pressure from the infantry but, it is light for now.
When second hour had passed, we are running low on ammo, but, few allied vehicles have taken positions to cover some of the entrances allowing us to concentrate infantry defense better answer incoming attacks. Upon end of the third hour. 'Epsilon team, stand down... Victory ours, we have seized the southern continent.' Banner states and a lot people cheer.
We also cheer. I am spent for this day, that was hell... 'Where's our transport? We are spent for a while now...' Pavel says to the radio.
'They are making a landing, they are unloading engineering vehicles to rebuild, don't worry, you have aerial escort ready to take you back home.' Wind replies in her usual tone. None of us are injured but, we are exhausted, so much so that we can only walk. As we exit the facility, there is indeed a transport plane unloading the engineering vehicles.
We enter when it was fully empty, there is some medics to help us and begin checking us. 'This is medic Ganssen, we have the commandos with us now. They are fine, but, they really could use a rest.' One of the medics radio. They helped us inside of the transport and, it immediately began ascending.
'None of them are injured?' Salve asks somewhat bewildered by the report.
'No sir. They are green in terms of health but, yellow on stamina. This war will be over soon.' Ganssen replies.
'Good work out there gentlemen. We will have the navy and ground forces start occupying the area, let's get you home, fed, hydrated and ready for some rest.' Salve states.
'Just, three more continents... We never even got here before...' Spear says calmly, thinking about the past.
'It isn't over yet, three continents, and the deletion of the corrupted AI, making sure that the computer it was in will never spawn another like that, is also a priority.' Banner states, feeling how close the true victory is.
'Those are still far away, sorry to be a downer, ma'am.' Pavel says in exhausted tone.
'You are right soldier. It is just as Spear stated... Three more to go, we didn't get this far previously. We fought so hard back then, only to sealed away into bitter darkness to wait. I will talk to the captain, about how we should proceed. The corrupted AI is backed into a corner... And, it will brew up a storm to defend.' Banner replies taking a moment to think.
We take soft seats to rest on, while the medics talk to us and provide food and drink when we ask for some. 'This is a lot of data that will take time to process, you have performed in an excellent level today Illica.' Tefilai says comforting me, here and there, my body is sore. From physical stress from running and actions in general.
The suit and helmet have been an absolute blessing to me. It made everything a whole lot easier. If there are injuries it is mostly exertion on the muscles. (Thank you Tefilai, for helping me so much.) Think of what I want to say to her.
'Just focus on resting and don't burden your mind right now. Others will take it from here.' Tefilai replies in soothing tone.
(At least keep some kind of conversation with me...) Think of my reply to what she said to me.
'Well, what would you consider an easy conversation topic then?' She asks calmly.
(Maybe... You could ask, about... My exploration of other systems. Before I came here?) Think of my answer.
'That actually is a good topic. Most likely something that could allow you to cool down.' Tefilai states little bit surprised that I still have good cohesion of thought... Probably. Started thinking about the other planets that I had visited. Most of them were in the middle of uninhabitable or hostile in some way.
Some planets, maybe there already is a project on going that they are getting colonized... Me, from a town girl, to an explorer, the first test of whether this advanced technology, is suitable for a human. For now, I can think to that... It does work just fine, well, unless you are absolutely against a high speed data transmitter implanted on your spine and brain.
Thankfully, it isn't physically connected to the suit and helmet, no need to worry for suit technology suddenly go haywire from sudden disconnect.
'The issue mostly is whether the technology and materials are not bad for your health. For now, they haven't prompted a biological response, but, that might not be with every individual. I do not believe you are just special in some aspects, I just think you adapt to changing situations in a reasonable and calm manner. Which made the augmentation very easy.' Tefilai states.
(I should have remembered that you can track what I am thinking... Sorry about that.) Think of what I want to say.
'You are fine Illica, just rest.' Tefilai replies amused by my worry.
Flight takes a while, the food and drinks we got helped us to recover, we aren't fit for combat though, at least for a while. We gave our reports and talk with the commanders, Spear helps me into an APC and drives me to my ship.
During that time, I feel a lot better but, no thanks for more combat missions. 'Great work Illica, that couldn't have gone any better.' Spear says, genuinely impressed with how I performed.
'Thank you Spear, you also performed magnificently.' Reply to Spear's words to me.
'I need to get back to the command unit, I am very low on battery and, after that... I do need to do some work on the data I have acquired.' Spear states.
'Take it easy.' Say calmly to him and he nods in response. I get out of the APC and walk into my ship while Spear drives away. When I entered my ship, felt something strange about the suit and helmet, they tighten and fill the empty space with some type of cushion. It ended as suddenly as it started. (Tefilai, what did you do?) Think of my question.
'That was suit's and helmet's own doing, eliminating unnecessary empty space and making itself far more comfortable to wear. The code is ahead of me in terms of adapting to better fill your requirements of it. Mostly because this isn't really what I would do primarily.' Tefilai replies as I walk towards my bed.
(Is there anything else it is going to do?) Ask by thinking.
'Let me see...' Tefilai states and probably started investigating. 'It is making something available, I am not familiar with this model. It seems to be related to mobility and there is multiple systems being adapted for your use.' Tefilai adds, genuinely surprised by the suit and helmet systems.
Then felt some kind of tremble going from my helmet to my suit, after that, heard some kind of ticking sound which ended after three times hearing it. (What was that?) Think as I feel somewhat alarmed by what I just experienced.
'Additional abilities are now completely available, two to be precise, there is two more that still need data and time to be adapted to suit your needs but, this is simply incredible. Didn't at all think they would get this fast adapted to you.' Tefilai says, still amazed.
(Talk me through them?) Ask by thinking it, as I am still in the dark about what just happened.
2024.01.05 15:58 Professional_Prune11 Human Trauma II---Section Twelve: Salacious Shiksie
So what happens when you cross a pent up sad cat, with booze, her trying to seduce a Human, and this being what she sees as her last chance to get him?
Desperate
Let's watch our bread make some bad flubs.
------
Shiksie nervously rolled her tail in her hands and glanced around the room, ensuring all of her research documents were tucked away. She could not imagine how Martinez would react if he caught even the slightest glimpse at all the research she had done over the last month.
At least some of it, namely her extensive research on seduction, mating, and courtship. She doubted her mentee would care much about her learning how to cook human meals and spending countless hours trying to actually craft the meals. But none of the papers or connecting lines were left on the walls. They had all been tucked away in her closet under lock and key.
With that done, Shiksie moved over to the oven, the smell of the roast filling the room. She wanted to make something close to what Martinez would have eaten when growing up, but that was almost impossible to pin down because he was from America, California, no less.
She knew his family was from what Humans called Hispanic, based on his name alone that was easy enough to discern, but that led her down a rabbit hole of complicated histories: stories of war, race, colonization, and the melting pot America apparently has been for over three hundred Earth years—it would have been an impossible task to make something from his youth without showing to much of her hand.
What was called a pot roast, but there was no way for her to acquire beef from Earth, so she simply cross-referenced the animals and meat available on Renoural.
At least Renoural was a heavy agricultural production world. While it was not a bread basket for the system and was used more as a relay for travel to other more settled and active worlds, its significant export was still food. Because of this, she did manage to find a suitable substitution.
Peeking inside the oven, the pot roast looked perfect; it was golden brown and falling apart when Shiksie poked at it with a fork. The tuber, carrot, and onion substitutes were also soft and cooked well— flawless.
Seeing the fruits of her labor, Shiksie could not help but smile and let her tail sway happily. There were so many failures before she came up with this recipe. Over the last month, she had dozens, if not hundreds, of failures. But Martinez was worth all the effort—maybe now he would see that she was putting so much time and energy into understanding him and humans.
Likely far more than that Aviex ever would.
After closing the oven, Shiksie set the table, lit candles, and played human country music. She had a penchant for country, cowboys, and westerns from the extensive cultural research before Martinez’s arrival, so she deemed the music scores from that genre to fit for today.
As she pressed play, her data pad chimed.
Martinez <3: Hey, I just finished my test and am heading to your place. Be there in thirty minutes.
Shiksie: Very well, how did you do?
Martinez <3: I got an 87%
Shiksie: That is a respectable score for your midterms. I will see you when you arrive.
Shiksie quickly tucked away her datapad, a smile on her face and a nervous fluttering in her heart. Going over to her bedroom, Shiksie pulled out the clothes she specifically got for tonight and made sure her bed was made and clean, should they need it later.
—-
Martinez knocked on Shiksie’s door, having just arrived from his mid-term. God, he hated the tests; each was overseen by the Draun medical center Director. The man was intimidating, not like you would expect from a human, such as being a cult of personality or cold, calculating professionalism.
In the Director's case, he was three meters tall, covered in dark armored plating, and had four yellow eyes filled with venom and cunning; all that was before you thought of the 15-centimeter-long claws on the end of each hand.
Although Martinez knew the intimidation the man gave off was just a matter of how he looked, behind all of that bulk was a man of drive, intelligence, and significant political cunning. One that anyone who befell it would likely be cut down.
If anything Martinez was praying for some of that cunning today. He had to squash any desires Shiksie had to be in a relationship with him; his previous attempt to let her down softly did not work. No, if anything, she was only bolstered to get closer to him.
Today, failure was not an option, and Martinez had the drive to succeed—until Shiksie opened the door.
Her grayish silver hair ran over one shoulder and traced down to a skimpy, tight-fitting dark blue dress; both sides were open lattice, allowing a clear view at her flanks. It showed off her lithesome curves, long legs, and gorgeous blue-gray fur perfectly, along with it being low cut just enough to give an ample view into pert cleavage.
Wafting past Shiksie were mouth-watering smells of roasting meat, her subtle flowery perfume, the light of flickering candles, and the melodic sounds of an acoustic guitar.
“It’s lovely to see you, Henry,” Shiksie purred, slightly fluttering her eyelids. “You look handsome this evening.”
Unlike all the other times he had seen the usually ascetic Farunse Shiksie, she had lipstick on and even dark black eyeshadow, making their bright emerald color pop to a disturbing degree; Martinez had not noticed it until now having been distracted by his mentor's athletic build, and cleavage.
“It’s nice to see you too; you look good too,” Martinez said without even remembering why he was here today.
Shiksie smiled and purred momentarily while looking Martinez over, soaking in his details. Meanwhile, Martinez pulled his jaw off the floor and tried remembering why he was there—thankfully, he did, lest he do something stupid.
“Are you going to come in?” Shiksie asked, standing abreast of the door and gesturing in.
Martinez stepped past Shiksie; as he did, he could feel her staring at the back of his head. Her discerning gaze assessed him, causing a deep primal part of him to be on edge, something he had not felt since first meeting her. It was also incredibly likely she was also taking stock of the waves of pheromones oozing from him; if she noticed anything outstanding, she did not verbiage it.
“Would you care for a beverage?” Shiksie questioned while sauntering over to the fridge.
“Sure,” Martinez replied, going over to the table.
While Shiksie was retrieving the drinks, he did his best to reassess his action plan, let her down firmly, and ensure nothing was misinterpreted. He had his plan, and even though he could not deny Shiksie’s shapely build, being hugged by her dress made him nearly forget it.
His mind was also questioning something else about Shiksie; something was off—it took him a few moments to realize what it was. How she was speaking—it was stiff, unnatural, and forced.
“Beyond your test, was anything else eventful throughout your day?” Shiksie asked, putting a beer in front of Martinez.
Now, he put his finger on precisely what Shiksie was doing; she was attempting to imitate Lysa’s languid mannerisms, speech patterns, and even formal talking. While her imitating his ruh’ah was concerning, along with the fact that she was not being subtle in propping up her cleavage, his eyes wandered to the drink.
Where in all the universe did she get a proper beer? Martinez knew getting beer imported in small amounts was ungodly expensive, so they could go bankrupt unless a company did so in bulk.
But this was genuine beer from Earth. According to the bottle it was from a small brewery that only crafted and distributed in Wisconsin.
“Shiksie, how did you get this?” Martinez questioned.
“Worry not about that. I simply acquired it because I knew you would enjoy it,” Shiksie purred, leaning forward and smiling brightly. “Do you not?”
Martinez paused, trying to think of how to proceed here. This was surreal by any stretch of the imagination. He had figured this likely would be odd, but this was beyond anything he could have imagined. He had assumed Shiksie would have cracked a few awkward jokes, maybe made some queer attempts at seduction—not whatever this was.
“Shiksie, what are you doing?” Martinez asked, ignoring her question about the beer and deciding to focus on her out-of-pocket actions.
“Whatever do you mean?” Shikie awkwardly chuckled, trying to ignore Martinez’s discerning gaze and her heart rate spiking from being called out for her mimicry.
Martinez sighed, leaned back in the chair, and looked around the room, taking in the set up for a meal, the dinner clearly ready in the oven, romantic candles, over-the-top dress, and the nearly obnoxious attempt at brownie points.
Opening the beer and sipping out the liquid courage, Martinez enjoyed the sweet, soothing hops and decided to press the issue. He did not hate Shiksie by any means, but her trying to act like Lysa this much was disturbing and took away all the unique charm she usually had.
“Please drop the act, Shiksie; this is supposed to be us enjoying dinner as friends. Not—whatever this is,” Martinez said gesturing at the table and her skimpy attire.
Shiksie’s attempt at behaving salaciously slipped immediately, returning to her more casual stature and demeanor. She almost fell into her glacial facade in defense of being called out, but Martinez was likely the only person that she did not use that stand-off on regularly, so she did not.
Sitting up straight, the tall feline brushed her hair over her shoulders, crossed her legs, and sighed nearly defeatedly.
“Am I being that unsettling?” Shiksie replied, returning to her usual prim and proper tone, but nowhere near as formal as Lysa.
“Yes, you are,” Martinez sighed, sipping out of the beer before pointing firmly. “What are you trying anyway?”
Shiksie nervously shifted in her chair for a few moments while grumbling no words in particular, or at least if there were any words in there; they were so intently mixed with yowls and sounds of her distraughtness Martinez could not make them out clearly.
“I still want to be with you,” Shiksie admitted while looking at him earnestly, having next to no trouble admitting it. She struggled to tell Martinez once, but now that she already has, this was likely her last opportunity to convince him she would be a better option for his partner than Lysa—she was desperate.
“Shiksie, we talked about this—-I am with Lysa,” Martinez groaned, not understanding what Shiksie seemed to not get about this issue.
He knew that Shiksie’s species practiced monogamy, and she had two parents—-until they died when she was young, but that did not change the reality that for Farun’se and Humans alike, being with one partner was normal.
“I—I—I—know,” Shiksie nervously sputtered and leaned forward slightly as if trying to double down on her attempts at seduction. “Can—we forget my attempt for now—-and at least enjoy dinner? I worked hard on it,” she pressed, hoping that perhaps refocusing from her awkward attempt at being something she was not could help her recover from the situation.
In all reality, trying to be more like Lysa was not her original idea but one of the dozens she had co-opted into tonight's efforts.
Through her research, she came across some advice that told her to be confident, bold, and outgoing. While Lysa certainly wasn’t how Shiksie traditionally thought of being confident, when it came to Martinez she obviously had success. Why would she not emulate her a little?
After all, according to the human dating guru she had watched dozens of hours of—Sarina Halsen, a woman has to be confident and bold, grab what she wants, and hold herself to the level of or higher than the man they want. Since that was not working, it was time to shift gears to a more gentle, caring effort.
Another one of the methods that she had read up on was one of the reasons she had acquired the beer and learned how to make human food—so she could possibly be more traditional in both Farun’se and Human standards.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Martinez said flatly.
“Please?” Shiksie nearly begged, grabbing his hands and leaning across the table.
Martinez tried to gently withdraw his hands from her soft grip, but Shiksie’s claws gently dug into him, holding him there. Looking into her emerald eyes, her pupils were wide, and she had a gentle, pleading smile.
“Do you understand there is nothing between us besides being friends?” Martinez asked.
Shiksie let go of his hands and stood up, not replying verbally. Instead, she went over to the oven and pulled out the food. Serving a plate for Martinez and herself, quickly returning with two steaming helpings.
“Here, enjoy this. I have plenty more of it and beer for us,” Shiksie purred.
“Us?” Martinez raised an eyebrow.
The Farun’se were barely able to drink any ethanol compared to many other species in the galaxy. Martine knew she could drink incredibly weak beverages in small amounts, but even something like this 5% ABV beer would be pretty stiff for her.
While he wasn’t sure of the exact amounts from what he knew about the Farun’se, it likely would be bordering him drinking a quarter bottle of whiskey or any other hard liquor.
“Yes us,” Shiskie said, using one of her claws to open another bottle. “I have done all the research needed. So long as I am not overdoing it, one beer should be perfectly safe. Although—-I still tend to not consume ethanol—but I want to celebrate how you, Lysa, Ivorn, and Sursee could last time.”
That made Martinez wonder: was Shiksie jealous that the others could celebrate in a way she could not? Last time she and Sursee enjoyed some grasses that they huffed, but Sursee only started to do that after having a few boozed-up drinks, granted those were only at most 2% ABV.
Could Shiksie handle any amount of booze? Much less an amount that likely would have her slurring after a bottle?
“Fine, I will stay for dinner, but Shiksie, can we just relax? Work has been hell lately, and I don’t want to leave here with this being something either of us will regret,” Martinez reluctantly said.
Martinez was undoubtedly tense at the moment, not unlike being ambushed when working with the Marines. He knew Shiksie had not given up; she was too stubborn for that and likely was just shifting tactics.
Shiksie slowly sipped at the beer as they ate dinner and talked about simple things: Martinez’s plans for school and what he and Lysa planned on doing for their vacation starting the following day.
While talking about their plans tasted as horrible as the beer, she had to slog through it. Until she managed to figure out how to broach what was her last hope to keep Martinez as hers. But she needed some more beer before being that bold.
Plenty of the advice she had read from the Human Relationship gurus included asking someone you are interested in if they might consider a more polyamorous relationship; although some called it sleeping around, others open relationships; the end result did not seem different in her eyes.
“So, what did you think of the pot roast?” Shiksie asked after finishing her beer a bit faster than she had expected. Any bitter flavor of the acrid beverage had faded halfway through her first bottle.
“It is perfect,” Martinez replied, surprised by how well Shiksie had recreated the Human dish, especially because she had never had the true thing before.
Then again, the fundamental cooking processes could not be too different even here on the far side of the galaxy. A process of rendering fats, saturating, and boiling tubers, along with finding a suitable substitute for onions and garlic.
Knowing his mentor, she likely researched beef and the other ingredients down to their chemical makeup to ensure dinner was as close to the genuine article as possible. She did, without a doubt, get incredibly close.
“Would you like some more?” Shiksie asked, gesturing to his already empty plate.
“Sure,” Martinez replied, having not missed the slight slur in Shiksie’s voice.
Shiksie pushed back from the table and grabbed both of their plates. Martinez paid keen attention to her as she moved, looking for anything to pick up on her next play; beyond her peeking back at him while serving him a plate, she gave no accurate indication of what she was going to try until she sat back down, a fresh beer in her hand.
“Here you go,” Shiksie said, having sat ever so slightly closer to Martinez, a detail he did not miss, but she was not so close it was raising massive alarm bells. She was just close enough to reach his shoulder if she desired, but nothing more.
As they slowly ate their next serving, Shiksie continued asking Martinez more about his life back home on earth, his hobbies, and other things. He did earnestly answer them, not that there was much to tell.
He grew up in the ruins of Los Angeles as a result of World War three and the mass amount of strikes at cultural and civilian locations that had caused. Luckily, humanity had managed to recover and reach for the stars again before the GU found them, but the warrior and hardy culture that the survivors of the war and his grandparents had been to thank for that desire to recover.
If not for it, the GU likely would have passed humanity by then.
Shiksie was cute when she was slightly sloshed; even Martinez had to admit it. She was almost disturbingly expressive. Her tail was waving, her ears fluttered, and even her painfully slurred voice expressed that she wanted to learn more about his hobby of video games and Martial arts.
Despite that, she never does any of that.
“Henrryy, I wanna know.” Shiksie slurred, sipping from her drink now that they both finished a second plate of pot roast.
Martinez looked at her and considered pulling the drink from her hand. She likely was the most drunk she had ever been and likely was going to do something stupid if he did not stop her.
Once she found her train of thought once again, she leaned closer. She lightly plucked at the top of her dress with a claw, likely trying to be seductive, but with how sloshed she was—Martinez would not consider it, and that's before the issues of their professional relationship.
“Have yah ever heard of an open relationship? We could share you?” Shiksie questioned. “Me und Lysa.”
Now Martinez had heard of that before, never in a way that would work well for anyone not entering a relationship with that in mind, and both himself and Lysa were not keen on anything like that; that was well before crossing the bridge of how inappropriate him and her having a relationship like that would be.
“Shiksie—I have already said I'm not interested,” Martinez said flatly.
“But why noot?” Shiksie pouted, reaching for his hand that he quickly retracted, not letting her get a grip on it.
It was time, Martinez had put up with enough of her attempts for the day, and if she was going to try to ask him for something so stupid, he was just going to put the drunk cat to bed, call her an ass in the morning, and ensure she realized how out of line she was then.
He just had to be prepared for Shiksie crying, begging, and possibly attempting to drunkenly kiss him when he escorted her to the bedroom. Nothing in his wildest dreams could have prepared him for what a drunk Shiksie was willing to do.
“Come on,” Martinez said, grabbing her arm and trying to lead her to her bedroom so she could crash; she was the equivalent of half a handle in and definitely was not used to drinking and needed someone to be responsible here.
As she stood, she did far more than Martinez ever expected her to do. Shiksie pulled him in close, propped a leg up on the table, and pushed her hips against him. She purred loudly and ground herself against him, pushing her warmth into him.
“Coom on Henree,” Shiskie purred, in what she undoubtedly thought was a sultry tone, but only sounded like she was trying to twist a tale to an equally drunken lover—but Martinez had only had one beer and was not the demographic to be trying that with.
In fact, he was downright pissed, his fist already clenching, readying to clock her. A sloppy kiss from her would have been one thing, not her fucking dry-humping him against the table. Martinez pulled out the remnants of the NCO he had inside him and barked orders.
“Shiksie, stop, right god damn now!” Martinez snapped, trying to gently push her back, not wanting to genuinely hurt his mentor and friend.
Any amount of his prissing did nothing to dissuade her; if anything, it pressed her further and brought some of her kinks to the surface he would rather not know about.
“Oh yiis, I want it roof, tie me up baebee” Shiksie growled, hiking her dress up and leaving her now apparent to him nude womanhood to rub against him.
With no thought, Martinez just reacted—violently. This was not just a step too far; this was leagues off the acceptable mark. Martinez never imagined Shiksie, of all people, could end up like this.
Due to the difference in density between the Farun’se and Humans, Martinez outweighed Shiskie by a solid 20 kilos. Most people think your reach matters most in what might be a fight, and that is true for striking; grappling was a whole other ball game. You want to be shorter and heavier.
He grabbed Shiksie’s leg over his side and pressed forward, driving her fully backward while moving his leg behind hers. In one deft motion, Martinez folded Shiksie in half, her back slamming into the deck while her head knocked hard against the fridge.
Shiksie yelped in pain and immediately gave up on attempting to seduce him after having her brain rattled. Instead of pursuing him further, she clutched at her bruised and likely bleeding head, wailing loudly.
Martinez did not even spare the Farun’se woman a glance back as he rushed out of the room. He could hear her crying about how she was broken and was always wrong. But that did not matter to him. He could broach that in an environment where others were there to back him up. He was alone, and at this point, Martinez knew he had to leave.
The only thing he did for Shiksie was text Ivorn to go check on her, telling him he would explain what happened to him later, but Martinez had to leave her in her home like that for now.
Thankfully, Ivorn was understanding and did not question him for the time being.
------
So was it a bad overflowed attempt? Shiksie drew from pick up artists, reddits, and other bad advice wit no idea how to actually figure out how to do what she wants. I think I made this cringe enough, while also showing the amount of effort she gave. Lemme know what you all think?
In other news----HT one should be ready for purchase as a printed book in a day or two. keep your eyes peeled for that announcement.
I will see you all in the comments. please dont forget to updoot and comment.
your bud
-Pirate
------
Book One Start
buy book one
Book Two Start
previous
Next
submitted by Professional_Prune11 to humansarespaceorcs [link] [comments]
Desperate
Let's watch our bread make some bad flubs.
------
Shiksie nervously rolled her tail in her hands and glanced around the room, ensuring all of her research documents were tucked away. She could not imagine how Martinez would react if he caught even the slightest glimpse at all the research she had done over the last month.
At least some of it, namely her extensive research on seduction, mating, and courtship. She doubted her mentee would care much about her learning how to cook human meals and spending countless hours trying to actually craft the meals. But none of the papers or connecting lines were left on the walls. They had all been tucked away in her closet under lock and key.
With that done, Shiksie moved over to the oven, the smell of the roast filling the room. She wanted to make something close to what Martinez would have eaten when growing up, but that was almost impossible to pin down because he was from America, California, no less.
She knew his family was from what Humans called Hispanic, based on his name alone that was easy enough to discern, but that led her down a rabbit hole of complicated histories: stories of war, race, colonization, and the melting pot America apparently has been for over three hundred Earth years—it would have been an impossible task to make something from his youth without showing to much of her hand.
What was called a pot roast, but there was no way for her to acquire beef from Earth, so she simply cross-referenced the animals and meat available on Renoural.
At least Renoural was a heavy agricultural production world. While it was not a bread basket for the system and was used more as a relay for travel to other more settled and active worlds, its significant export was still food. Because of this, she did manage to find a suitable substitution.
Peeking inside the oven, the pot roast looked perfect; it was golden brown and falling apart when Shiksie poked at it with a fork. The tuber, carrot, and onion substitutes were also soft and cooked well— flawless.
Seeing the fruits of her labor, Shiksie could not help but smile and let her tail sway happily. There were so many failures before she came up with this recipe. Over the last month, she had dozens, if not hundreds, of failures. But Martinez was worth all the effort—maybe now he would see that she was putting so much time and energy into understanding him and humans.
Likely far more than that Aviex ever would.
After closing the oven, Shiksie set the table, lit candles, and played human country music. She had a penchant for country, cowboys, and westerns from the extensive cultural research before Martinez’s arrival, so she deemed the music scores from that genre to fit for today.
As she pressed play, her data pad chimed.
Martinez <3: Hey, I just finished my test and am heading to your place. Be there in thirty minutes.
Shiksie: Very well, how did you do?
Martinez <3: I got an 87%
Shiksie: That is a respectable score for your midterms. I will see you when you arrive.
Shiksie quickly tucked away her datapad, a smile on her face and a nervous fluttering in her heart. Going over to her bedroom, Shiksie pulled out the clothes she specifically got for tonight and made sure her bed was made and clean, should they need it later.
—-
Martinez knocked on Shiksie’s door, having just arrived from his mid-term. God, he hated the tests; each was overseen by the Draun medical center Director. The man was intimidating, not like you would expect from a human, such as being a cult of personality or cold, calculating professionalism.
In the Director's case, he was three meters tall, covered in dark armored plating, and had four yellow eyes filled with venom and cunning; all that was before you thought of the 15-centimeter-long claws on the end of each hand.
Although Martinez knew the intimidation the man gave off was just a matter of how he looked, behind all of that bulk was a man of drive, intelligence, and significant political cunning. One that anyone who befell it would likely be cut down.
If anything Martinez was praying for some of that cunning today. He had to squash any desires Shiksie had to be in a relationship with him; his previous attempt to let her down softly did not work. No, if anything, she was only bolstered to get closer to him.
Today, failure was not an option, and Martinez had the drive to succeed—until Shiksie opened the door.
Her grayish silver hair ran over one shoulder and traced down to a skimpy, tight-fitting dark blue dress; both sides were open lattice, allowing a clear view at her flanks. It showed off her lithesome curves, long legs, and gorgeous blue-gray fur perfectly, along with it being low cut just enough to give an ample view into pert cleavage.
Wafting past Shiksie were mouth-watering smells of roasting meat, her subtle flowery perfume, the light of flickering candles, and the melodic sounds of an acoustic guitar.
“It’s lovely to see you, Henry,” Shiksie purred, slightly fluttering her eyelids. “You look handsome this evening.”
Unlike all the other times he had seen the usually ascetic Farunse Shiksie, she had lipstick on and even dark black eyeshadow, making their bright emerald color pop to a disturbing degree; Martinez had not noticed it until now having been distracted by his mentor's athletic build, and cleavage.
“It’s nice to see you too; you look good too,” Martinez said without even remembering why he was here today.
Shiksie smiled and purred momentarily while looking Martinez over, soaking in his details. Meanwhile, Martinez pulled his jaw off the floor and tried remembering why he was there—thankfully, he did, lest he do something stupid.
“Are you going to come in?” Shiksie asked, standing abreast of the door and gesturing in.
Martinez stepped past Shiksie; as he did, he could feel her staring at the back of his head. Her discerning gaze assessed him, causing a deep primal part of him to be on edge, something he had not felt since first meeting her. It was also incredibly likely she was also taking stock of the waves of pheromones oozing from him; if she noticed anything outstanding, she did not verbiage it.
“Would you care for a beverage?” Shiksie questioned while sauntering over to the fridge.
“Sure,” Martinez replied, going over to the table.
While Shiksie was retrieving the drinks, he did his best to reassess his action plan, let her down firmly, and ensure nothing was misinterpreted. He had his plan, and even though he could not deny Shiksie’s shapely build, being hugged by her dress made him nearly forget it.
His mind was also questioning something else about Shiksie; something was off—it took him a few moments to realize what it was. How she was speaking—it was stiff, unnatural, and forced.
“Beyond your test, was anything else eventful throughout your day?” Shiksie asked, putting a beer in front of Martinez.
Now, he put his finger on precisely what Shiksie was doing; she was attempting to imitate Lysa’s languid mannerisms, speech patterns, and even formal talking. While her imitating his ruh’ah was concerning, along with the fact that she was not being subtle in propping up her cleavage, his eyes wandered to the drink.
Where in all the universe did she get a proper beer? Martinez knew getting beer imported in small amounts was ungodly expensive, so they could go bankrupt unless a company did so in bulk.
But this was genuine beer from Earth. According to the bottle it was from a small brewery that only crafted and distributed in Wisconsin.
“Shiksie, how did you get this?” Martinez questioned.
“Worry not about that. I simply acquired it because I knew you would enjoy it,” Shiksie purred, leaning forward and smiling brightly. “Do you not?”
Martinez paused, trying to think of how to proceed here. This was surreal by any stretch of the imagination. He had figured this likely would be odd, but this was beyond anything he could have imagined. He had assumed Shiksie would have cracked a few awkward jokes, maybe made some queer attempts at seduction—not whatever this was.
“Shiksie, what are you doing?” Martinez asked, ignoring her question about the beer and deciding to focus on her out-of-pocket actions.
“Whatever do you mean?” Shikie awkwardly chuckled, trying to ignore Martinez’s discerning gaze and her heart rate spiking from being called out for her mimicry.
Martinez sighed, leaned back in the chair, and looked around the room, taking in the set up for a meal, the dinner clearly ready in the oven, romantic candles, over-the-top dress, and the nearly obnoxious attempt at brownie points.
Opening the beer and sipping out the liquid courage, Martinez enjoyed the sweet, soothing hops and decided to press the issue. He did not hate Shiksie by any means, but her trying to act like Lysa this much was disturbing and took away all the unique charm she usually had.
“Please drop the act, Shiksie; this is supposed to be us enjoying dinner as friends. Not—whatever this is,” Martinez said gesturing at the table and her skimpy attire.
Shiksie’s attempt at behaving salaciously slipped immediately, returning to her more casual stature and demeanor. She almost fell into her glacial facade in defense of being called out, but Martinez was likely the only person that she did not use that stand-off on regularly, so she did not.
Sitting up straight, the tall feline brushed her hair over her shoulders, crossed her legs, and sighed nearly defeatedly.
“Am I being that unsettling?” Shiksie replied, returning to her usual prim and proper tone, but nowhere near as formal as Lysa.
“Yes, you are,” Martinez sighed, sipping out of the beer before pointing firmly. “What are you trying anyway?”
Shiksie nervously shifted in her chair for a few moments while grumbling no words in particular, or at least if there were any words in there; they were so intently mixed with yowls and sounds of her distraughtness Martinez could not make them out clearly.
“I still want to be with you,” Shiksie admitted while looking at him earnestly, having next to no trouble admitting it. She struggled to tell Martinez once, but now that she already has, this was likely her last opportunity to convince him she would be a better option for his partner than Lysa—she was desperate.
“Shiksie, we talked about this—-I am with Lysa,” Martinez groaned, not understanding what Shiksie seemed to not get about this issue.
He knew that Shiksie’s species practiced monogamy, and she had two parents—-until they died when she was young, but that did not change the reality that for Farun’se and Humans alike, being with one partner was normal.
“I—I—I—know,” Shiksie nervously sputtered and leaned forward slightly as if trying to double down on her attempts at seduction. “Can—we forget my attempt for now—-and at least enjoy dinner? I worked hard on it,” she pressed, hoping that perhaps refocusing from her awkward attempt at being something she was not could help her recover from the situation.
In all reality, trying to be more like Lysa was not her original idea but one of the dozens she had co-opted into tonight's efforts.
Through her research, she came across some advice that told her to be confident, bold, and outgoing. While Lysa certainly wasn’t how Shiksie traditionally thought of being confident, when it came to Martinez she obviously had success. Why would she not emulate her a little?
After all, according to the human dating guru she had watched dozens of hours of—Sarina Halsen, a woman has to be confident and bold, grab what she wants, and hold herself to the level of or higher than the man they want. Since that was not working, it was time to shift gears to a more gentle, caring effort.
Another one of the methods that she had read up on was one of the reasons she had acquired the beer and learned how to make human food—so she could possibly be more traditional in both Farun’se and Human standards.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Martinez said flatly.
“Please?” Shiksie nearly begged, grabbing his hands and leaning across the table.
Martinez tried to gently withdraw his hands from her soft grip, but Shiksie’s claws gently dug into him, holding him there. Looking into her emerald eyes, her pupils were wide, and she had a gentle, pleading smile.
“Do you understand there is nothing between us besides being friends?” Martinez asked.
Shiksie let go of his hands and stood up, not replying verbally. Instead, she went over to the oven and pulled out the food. Serving a plate for Martinez and herself, quickly returning with two steaming helpings.
“Here, enjoy this. I have plenty more of it and beer for us,” Shiksie purred.
“Us?” Martinez raised an eyebrow.
The Farun’se were barely able to drink any ethanol compared to many other species in the galaxy. Martine knew she could drink incredibly weak beverages in small amounts, but even something like this 5% ABV beer would be pretty stiff for her.
While he wasn’t sure of the exact amounts from what he knew about the Farun’se, it likely would be bordering him drinking a quarter bottle of whiskey or any other hard liquor.
“Yes us,” Shiskie said, using one of her claws to open another bottle. “I have done all the research needed. So long as I am not overdoing it, one beer should be perfectly safe. Although—-I still tend to not consume ethanol—but I want to celebrate how you, Lysa, Ivorn, and Sursee could last time.”
That made Martinez wonder: was Shiksie jealous that the others could celebrate in a way she could not? Last time she and Sursee enjoyed some grasses that they huffed, but Sursee only started to do that after having a few boozed-up drinks, granted those were only at most 2% ABV.
Could Shiksie handle any amount of booze? Much less an amount that likely would have her slurring after a bottle?
“Fine, I will stay for dinner, but Shiksie, can we just relax? Work has been hell lately, and I don’t want to leave here with this being something either of us will regret,” Martinez reluctantly said.
Martinez was undoubtedly tense at the moment, not unlike being ambushed when working with the Marines. He knew Shiksie had not given up; she was too stubborn for that and likely was just shifting tactics.
Shiksie slowly sipped at the beer as they ate dinner and talked about simple things: Martinez’s plans for school and what he and Lysa planned on doing for their vacation starting the following day.
While talking about their plans tasted as horrible as the beer, she had to slog through it. Until she managed to figure out how to broach what was her last hope to keep Martinez as hers. But she needed some more beer before being that bold.
Plenty of the advice she had read from the Human Relationship gurus included asking someone you are interested in if they might consider a more polyamorous relationship; although some called it sleeping around, others open relationships; the end result did not seem different in her eyes.
“So, what did you think of the pot roast?” Shiksie asked after finishing her beer a bit faster than she had expected. Any bitter flavor of the acrid beverage had faded halfway through her first bottle.
“It is perfect,” Martinez replied, surprised by how well Shiksie had recreated the Human dish, especially because she had never had the true thing before.
Then again, the fundamental cooking processes could not be too different even here on the far side of the galaxy. A process of rendering fats, saturating, and boiling tubers, along with finding a suitable substitute for onions and garlic.
Knowing his mentor, she likely researched beef and the other ingredients down to their chemical makeup to ensure dinner was as close to the genuine article as possible. She did, without a doubt, get incredibly close.
“Would you like some more?” Shiksie asked, gesturing to his already empty plate.
“Sure,” Martinez replied, having not missed the slight slur in Shiksie’s voice.
Shiksie pushed back from the table and grabbed both of their plates. Martinez paid keen attention to her as she moved, looking for anything to pick up on her next play; beyond her peeking back at him while serving him a plate, she gave no accurate indication of what she was going to try until she sat back down, a fresh beer in her hand.
“Here you go,” Shiksie said, having sat ever so slightly closer to Martinez, a detail he did not miss, but she was not so close it was raising massive alarm bells. She was just close enough to reach his shoulder if she desired, but nothing more.
As they slowly ate their next serving, Shiksie continued asking Martinez more about his life back home on earth, his hobbies, and other things. He did earnestly answer them, not that there was much to tell.
He grew up in the ruins of Los Angeles as a result of World War three and the mass amount of strikes at cultural and civilian locations that had caused. Luckily, humanity had managed to recover and reach for the stars again before the GU found them, but the warrior and hardy culture that the survivors of the war and his grandparents had been to thank for that desire to recover.
If not for it, the GU likely would have passed humanity by then.
Shiksie was cute when she was slightly sloshed; even Martinez had to admit it. She was almost disturbingly expressive. Her tail was waving, her ears fluttered, and even her painfully slurred voice expressed that she wanted to learn more about his hobby of video games and Martial arts.
Despite that, she never does any of that.
“Henrryy, I wanna know.” Shiksie slurred, sipping from her drink now that they both finished a second plate of pot roast.
Martinez looked at her and considered pulling the drink from her hand. She likely was the most drunk she had ever been and likely was going to do something stupid if he did not stop her.
Once she found her train of thought once again, she leaned closer. She lightly plucked at the top of her dress with a claw, likely trying to be seductive, but with how sloshed she was—Martinez would not consider it, and that's before the issues of their professional relationship.
“Have yah ever heard of an open relationship? We could share you?” Shiksie questioned. “Me und Lysa.”
Now Martinez had heard of that before, never in a way that would work well for anyone not entering a relationship with that in mind, and both himself and Lysa were not keen on anything like that; that was well before crossing the bridge of how inappropriate him and her having a relationship like that would be.
“Shiksie—I have already said I'm not interested,” Martinez said flatly.
“But why noot?” Shiksie pouted, reaching for his hand that he quickly retracted, not letting her get a grip on it.
It was time, Martinez had put up with enough of her attempts for the day, and if she was going to try to ask him for something so stupid, he was just going to put the drunk cat to bed, call her an ass in the morning, and ensure she realized how out of line she was then.
He just had to be prepared for Shiksie crying, begging, and possibly attempting to drunkenly kiss him when he escorted her to the bedroom. Nothing in his wildest dreams could have prepared him for what a drunk Shiksie was willing to do.
“Come on,” Martinez said, grabbing her arm and trying to lead her to her bedroom so she could crash; she was the equivalent of half a handle in and definitely was not used to drinking and needed someone to be responsible here.
As she stood, she did far more than Martinez ever expected her to do. Shiksie pulled him in close, propped a leg up on the table, and pushed her hips against him. She purred loudly and ground herself against him, pushing her warmth into him.
“Coom on Henree,” Shiskie purred, in what she undoubtedly thought was a sultry tone, but only sounded like she was trying to twist a tale to an equally drunken lover—but Martinez had only had one beer and was not the demographic to be trying that with.
In fact, he was downright pissed, his fist already clenching, readying to clock her. A sloppy kiss from her would have been one thing, not her fucking dry-humping him against the table. Martinez pulled out the remnants of the NCO he had inside him and barked orders.
“Shiksie, stop, right god damn now!” Martinez snapped, trying to gently push her back, not wanting to genuinely hurt his mentor and friend.
Any amount of his prissing did nothing to dissuade her; if anything, it pressed her further and brought some of her kinks to the surface he would rather not know about.
“Oh yiis, I want it roof, tie me up baebee” Shiksie growled, hiking her dress up and leaving her now apparent to him nude womanhood to rub against him.
With no thought, Martinez just reacted—violently. This was not just a step too far; this was leagues off the acceptable mark. Martinez never imagined Shiksie, of all people, could end up like this.
Due to the difference in density between the Farun’se and Humans, Martinez outweighed Shiskie by a solid 20 kilos. Most people think your reach matters most in what might be a fight, and that is true for striking; grappling was a whole other ball game. You want to be shorter and heavier.
He grabbed Shiksie’s leg over his side and pressed forward, driving her fully backward while moving his leg behind hers. In one deft motion, Martinez folded Shiksie in half, her back slamming into the deck while her head knocked hard against the fridge.
Shiksie yelped in pain and immediately gave up on attempting to seduce him after having her brain rattled. Instead of pursuing him further, she clutched at her bruised and likely bleeding head, wailing loudly.
Martinez did not even spare the Farun’se woman a glance back as he rushed out of the room. He could hear her crying about how she was broken and was always wrong. But that did not matter to him. He could broach that in an environment where others were there to back him up. He was alone, and at this point, Martinez knew he had to leave.
The only thing he did for Shiksie was text Ivorn to go check on her, telling him he would explain what happened to him later, but Martinez had to leave her in her home like that for now.
Thankfully, Ivorn was understanding and did not question him for the time being.
------
So was it a bad overflowed attempt? Shiksie drew from pick up artists, reddits, and other bad advice wit no idea how to actually figure out how to do what she wants. I think I made this cringe enough, while also showing the amount of effort she gave. Lemme know what you all think?
In other news----HT one should be ready for purchase as a printed book in a day or two. keep your eyes peeled for that announcement.
I will see you all in the comments. please dont forget to updoot and comment.
your bud
-Pirate
------
Book One Start
buy book one
Book Two Start
previous
Next
2023.12.16 23:55 mr-majali Fiber for Weight Loss and Digestive Health: Your Ultimate Guide
Hey there! Let’s talk about something that doesn’t always get the spotlight it deserves: fiber. It’s like the behind-the-scenes hero in the world of digestion, quietly doing its job to keep everything running smoothly.
So, why not dive into the world of fiber and discover how it can be a game-changer for your digestive health? Trust me, your tummy will thank you!
submitted by mr-majali to weightlossviolen [link] [comments]
So, why not dive into the world of fiber and discover how it can be a game-changer for your digestive health? Trust me, your tummy will thank you!
Fiber: The Unsung Hero of Digestion
- Why Fiber Rocks: Unlike those flashy nutrients that grab all the headlines, fiber is the modest star of the show. It works its magic in the background, ensuring your digestive system stays on track. It’s like the gentle force that keeps your gut happy and helps everything move along without any hiccups.
- The Two Types of Fiber: Let’s meet the power couple of the fiber world – soluble and insoluble fiber. Soluble fiber is like the mediator that gels with water to help soothe your digestive tract. On the other hand, insoluble fiber is the tough one, speeding things up and keeping your digestive transit smooth. Together, they’re like the dynamic duo keeping your gut in harmony.
The Amazing Benefits of Fiber for Weight Loss
- Cholesterol’s Natural Enemy: Soluble fiber isn’t just good for digestion; it’s also a secret weapon against cholesterol. It latches onto cholesterol and helps to politely show it the exit from your body.
- Blood Sugar’s Best Friend: Fiber is fantastic at keeping blood sugar levels from going on a rollercoaster ride after meals. It’s like having a wise old friend who knows just how to keep things balanced.
- A Partner in Weight Management: Ever have fiber tell you, “That’s enough, you’re full”? That’s fiber helping you avoid overeating. It’s a great ally in your journey towards weight management.
- Colon’s Caretaker: And let’s not forget insoluble fiber, the hero of the colon. It’s all about keeping things moving and waving goodbye to constipation troubles.
Incorporating Fiber into Your Diet
- Fiber Party Foods: Think beans, berries, whole grains, and leafy greens. Adding these to your meals is like throwing a party for your gut – a healthy, fun-filled one!
- Violen: The Fiber Fixer: On days when veggies aren’t the star of your meal, Violen comes to the rescue. It’s your go-to for an easy fiber boost.
- Slow and Steady Wins the Race: When it comes to fiber, take it slow. Let your digestive system get used to the new guest. And remember, water and fiber are best buddies – so keep hydrated!
Wrapping It Up
Getting into fiber is like unlocking a treasure trove of digestive wellness. As you up your fiber game, you’re not just saying goodbye to digestive discomfort but welcoming a whole orchestra of health benefits. So, let your fiber flag fly high and start your journey towards a happier, healthier gut!2023.12.13 14:32 MountainSkald [A Valkyrie's Saga] - Part 40
Prequel (Chapters 1 to 16)
Get the book on Amazon - Or keep reading the full story through daily chapters.
First ¦ Previous ¦ Next ¦ Royal Road
The heat of the sun blasted Kayla’s face as she crested the hill, gasping for air. There could be no doubt that she had been transported to hell. Most of her body ached with pain, her lungs burned and her heart pounded like it was going to explode out of her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t felt exhausted.
“Lord, when does it end?” Thandi complained next to her.
“When you can’t stand up,” Kayla gasped. She willed her burning thighs to take another step, though the pain was pushing tears into her eyes.
Their small group had been hiking for hours, each recruit taking turns to read the map and set the path. Occasionally, an instructor would emerge from the trees, check on them, then move on. When they weren’t hiking in the hills, they were doing PT in camp, only gaining respite from the workouts during the classroom sessions, where they studied first-aid, navigation, or military history. Each week, Kayla noticed the morning assembly on the parade ground was smaller and smaller.
The instructors had started by taking the recruits on four-hour hikes, carrying packs filled with food, water, and clothes. When they were able to finish those marches, the time was increased to six hours, and at least once a week, ten hours. The instructors took them into the hills far from the coastline, so they could learn how to take bearings, identify landmarks, and guide themselves. Once the recruits had demonstrated their ability to navigate, their packs were filled with rocks. Kayla forced herself to accept each new layer of stress without complaint. The purpose of the training was clear; they would never be comfortable.
On this hike, she was confident she would make it to the end, though she struggled to stay focused. Ahead, Kayla saw Aaliyah stumble over a loose stone. She looked like she was falling asleep, and had been dragging her feet, careless of the rough terrain. Kayla wondered if she should grab the recruit and try to wake her up, but moving her own trembling legs was demanding enough.
Their group, led by Christie, was climbing up a steep mountain slope on a deteriorating rock-strewn path. When they came to a stream, Kayla watched anxiously while Aaliyah stepped on the glistening wet slabs. Her foot slipped and her body smacked into the rock. Then she was sliding, losing control as gravity dragged her down the steep hillside towards the top of a waterfall.
Pain forgotten, Kayla dropped her pack and vaulted over the stream, scrambling through the dirt and trees on the other side. Looking over, she saw the terrified girl had come to a stop, clutching onto thin branches as she hung over a thirty-foot drop. Kayla peered over the cliff, spotted a rocky ledge below, and began to climb down.
She lowered herself, but had trouble finding the ledge with her outstretched foot. Her arms reached full extension and Kayla offered a silent prayer. When her toes met resistance, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Shuffling across the cliff face, she came to the struggling Aaliyah, who was trying to haul herself up as others gasped and yelled fruitless advice from above.
Kayla evaluated the scene and thought quickly. First, she had to get her attention. “Hey—it’s Aaliyah, right?” she asked.
The girl’s head snapped around, eyes wide with panic. “Help! I’m slipping!” she cried desperately.
Kayla found a solid hold with her right hand, then, steadying herself, leaned across the sickening drop. “See that hole in the rock across from you? Look where I’m pointing!”
Aaliyah’s eyes focused on the weathered limestone as her muscles strained.
“If you grab my arm,” Kayla continued, “you can put your left hand there and you’ll swing onto this ledge.”
Aaliyah looked sick as she contemplated the acrobatic maneuver.
“Don’t hesitate,” Kayla continued. “Just do it. Grab my arm. Come on!” she yelled as a feeble branch began to rip itself away.
Aaliyah moved like lightning, and Kayla winced as her fingernails drew blood from her arm. The desperate recruit found the handhold, and Kayla pulled hard as her legs swung onto the ledge. She held firmly onto the shaking girl, reassuring her that she wasn’t about to let her fall off the mountain.
Christie’s head appeared above them. “My God, are you okay?”
“Yeah, we’re good, right, Aaliyah?” Kayla flashed her a smile. “She just decided to do some exploring.”
Both girls stared at her with shocked expressions, so she switched gears. “Aaliyah, I’m going to put my boot on this foothold here, and you’re going to step up on my leg. Don’t worry, Chris will grab your arms, right Chris?”
“I’ve got you, Aaliyah,” Christie said.
The girl whimpered as she stepped up, then clambered frantically as Christie caught her outstretched hand. Kayla swore as Aaliyah’s muddy boot stepped on her shoulder, then kicked her in the face on the way up. Outstretched arms grabbed the terrified young woman as recruits pulled her the rest of the way. They soothed her fright as she burst into tears. Once Kayla had climbed back over the edge, she turned back to admire the perilous drop.
“Nice one,” she laughed and wiped dirt off her cheek. “We’re really going for the scenic route on this hike.”
“We haven’t reached the checkpoint yet,” Christie said with a frown. “But she clearly needs a break.”
Kayla looked at the sopping wet girl. “Well, we can’t stop here, or the instructors will yell at us. Tell you what, Aaliyah, hold on to my backpack strap and I’ll keep an eye on you.”
Aaliyah, still trembling, shook her head. “I don’t think I can.”
Kayla reminded herself to be patient with the girl. She had just survived a near death experience. “Don’t think about it, just do it, and you’ll feel better in no time,” she tried, as sensitively as she could manage.
Kiki Marinos kicked a fallen branch. “This is ridiculous. Somebody’s going to get hurt, and what is the point of it?”
Kayla sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “So go find an instructor.”
The red-faced Kiki waved her off. “We mastered hiking two weeks ago and now they pull this crap, sticking rocks in our backpacks. Maybe they want to make us quit through injury to make themselves look tougher. I’ve seen it before in the sports world.”
Kayla wanted to snap. Kiki was another fool that ought to have quit long ago and threatened to often enough. But they were supposed to be learning to be teammates, so Kayla tried to check her anger. “We are getting stronger, Kiki,” she pointed out. “We’re hiking further with more weight.”
“I was already fit enough when I joined, and this abuse isn’t helping me develop in any way. It’s just pointless,” Kiki said bitterly.
“It isn’t pointless,” Christie said. “They want us to be comfortable being uncomfortable.”
Kayla shook her head, confused by Kiki’s attitude. Did she not understand that they had signed up to suffer? Hadn’t she paid attention to everything they had been told in the first day’s presentation? If they were going to face death, why wouldn’t they want to push to their limit every day, to get better, stronger, and faster with every second of time available? Aaliyah’s fall had been a sharp reminder that there weren’t always going to be instructors around to protect them from their own mistakes.
Kayla was about to argue this point when she caught sight of movement in the trees. “Okay, there’s an instructor headed this way. Christie, lead on. Aaliyah with me. Kiki, panic.”
“Kayla—” Aaliyah began, her mud-stained face a mask of doubt and pain.
“I tell you what,” Kayla said, “why don’t you just get through this, and you can quit tomorrow? How about that?” She held out her hand.
Aaliyah sighed, wiped away a tear, and struggled to stand up. Kayla grabbed her arm and felt it tremble in her grip as she hauled the recruit to her feet.
Half an hour later, Christie stopped to peer intently at the map. “I believe this is the checkpoint. So, a rest stop is in order.”
They flopped to the ground in silence, pulled out canteens, and gulped down water. To Kayla, the cool liquid was the sweetest, most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. Leaves rustled in the trees, and her body began to feel like a lead weight. Soft, rhythmic pain coursed through her nerves, which promised warmth and happiness if she would rest. The world blurred as her eyes unfocused.
Christie shuffled over to her, and she sighed as she pulled herself back from the reverie.
“Are you okay?” Christie asked. “It got a bit hairy earlier.”
Kayla shook her head. “I should have stopped Aaliyah before she fell. I knew she was going to trip again, but I let myself get tired, like an idiot.”
“But you reacted quickly,” Christie said. “Didn’t the thirty-foot fall didn’t concern you at all?”
Kayla shrugged again before swallowing more water. “We made it back up, no problem.” The memory had faded, and like the others, had already taken on the nature of a dream, or something she had seen happen to someone else. When she thought back to the moment, a shock of electricity burned in her chest, but it was only pain, and she had learned to ignore that long ago.
“Aaliyah said that you were seconds away from going over yourself.”
“She’s exaggerating; it was fine. What’s your point?”
“That you are a mentally deranged individual that cannot even be entrusted with protecting your own life.” Christie punched her in the arm.
“Cheer up girls,” Thandi said, as she sat up on her rucksack. “Pain makes you stronger. You know, you cannot cross a river without getting wet. That’s a Zulu saying.”
Christie smirked. “Wasn’t there a story about Shaka Zulu? That he ordered his best soldiers to march off a cliff, just to prove how loyal they were?”
Thandi flopped her hand in a half-hearted gesture. “That story is a lie, invented by European colonizers. Shaka was a military genius who transformed the Zulu kingdom.”
“By ruthlessly destroying any tribe that stood against him?” Christie said.
Thandi took a breath and raised her eyebrows. “The British conquest of Zululand was also an act of naked, unprovoked aggression.”
Kayla rolled her eyes. Were these two serious, arguing about history when everyone was exhausted?
Christie sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow. “Well, actually, I would argue that if Queen Victoria had known the true intentions of the colonial governor, she would have put a stop to the whole thing.”
“Irrelevant. The British aristocratic class was institutionally motivated—”
“How in the name of whatever freaking deity,” Kayla said, “do you two have the energy for this kind of debate?”
“History matters,” Thandi said. “You can’t confront the future if you don’t learn from the past.”
“I didn’t realize we had a scholar among us,” Christie said.
Thandi gave her a cold smile. “Threatening your expertise, Helvet?”
“Stop calling me that,” Christie snapped. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
Thandi looked away.
“You two are cute together,” Kayla said.
“And you enjoy causing trouble, don’t you?” Christie said.
“A little bit,” Kayla admitted, too tired to pretend otherwise.
“You are childish, and you lack respect,” Thandi said. “In a ring, I would beat you easily.”
“We aren’t training to get in a ring,” Kayla said. “And I don’t think something that wants to kill you is going to show a lot of respect.”
Thandi said nothing.
Chisom sat up. “Why are you girls friends? All you do is argue.”
Thandi was about to reply, but stopped, staring off down the hill. “Trouble at seven o’clock,” she muttered.
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Prequel (Chapters 1 to 16)
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The heat of the sun blasted Kayla’s face as she crested the hill, gasping for air. There could be no doubt that she had been transported to hell. Most of her body ached with pain, her lungs burned and her heart pounded like it was going to explode out of her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t felt exhausted.
“Lord, when does it end?” Thandi complained next to her.
“When you can’t stand up,” Kayla gasped. She willed her burning thighs to take another step, though the pain was pushing tears into her eyes.
Their small group had been hiking for hours, each recruit taking turns to read the map and set the path. Occasionally, an instructor would emerge from the trees, check on them, then move on. When they weren’t hiking in the hills, they were doing PT in camp, only gaining respite from the workouts during the classroom sessions, where they studied first-aid, navigation, or military history. Each week, Kayla noticed the morning assembly on the parade ground was smaller and smaller.
The instructors had started by taking the recruits on four-hour hikes, carrying packs filled with food, water, and clothes. When they were able to finish those marches, the time was increased to six hours, and at least once a week, ten hours. The instructors took them into the hills far from the coastline, so they could learn how to take bearings, identify landmarks, and guide themselves. Once the recruits had demonstrated their ability to navigate, their packs were filled with rocks. Kayla forced herself to accept each new layer of stress without complaint. The purpose of the training was clear; they would never be comfortable.
On this hike, she was confident she would make it to the end, though she struggled to stay focused. Ahead, Kayla saw Aaliyah stumble over a loose stone. She looked like she was falling asleep, and had been dragging her feet, careless of the rough terrain. Kayla wondered if she should grab the recruit and try to wake her up, but moving her own trembling legs was demanding enough.
Their group, led by Christie, was climbing up a steep mountain slope on a deteriorating rock-strewn path. When they came to a stream, Kayla watched anxiously while Aaliyah stepped on the glistening wet slabs. Her foot slipped and her body smacked into the rock. Then she was sliding, losing control as gravity dragged her down the steep hillside towards the top of a waterfall.
Pain forgotten, Kayla dropped her pack and vaulted over the stream, scrambling through the dirt and trees on the other side. Looking over, she saw the terrified girl had come to a stop, clutching onto thin branches as she hung over a thirty-foot drop. Kayla peered over the cliff, spotted a rocky ledge below, and began to climb down.
She lowered herself, but had trouble finding the ledge with her outstretched foot. Her arms reached full extension and Kayla offered a silent prayer. When her toes met resistance, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Shuffling across the cliff face, she came to the struggling Aaliyah, who was trying to haul herself up as others gasped and yelled fruitless advice from above.
Kayla evaluated the scene and thought quickly. First, she had to get her attention. “Hey—it’s Aaliyah, right?” she asked.
The girl’s head snapped around, eyes wide with panic. “Help! I’m slipping!” she cried desperately.
Kayla found a solid hold with her right hand, then, steadying herself, leaned across the sickening drop. “See that hole in the rock across from you? Look where I’m pointing!”
Aaliyah’s eyes focused on the weathered limestone as her muscles strained.
“If you grab my arm,” Kayla continued, “you can put your left hand there and you’ll swing onto this ledge.”
Aaliyah looked sick as she contemplated the acrobatic maneuver.
“Don’t hesitate,” Kayla continued. “Just do it. Grab my arm. Come on!” she yelled as a feeble branch began to rip itself away.
Aaliyah moved like lightning, and Kayla winced as her fingernails drew blood from her arm. The desperate recruit found the handhold, and Kayla pulled hard as her legs swung onto the ledge. She held firmly onto the shaking girl, reassuring her that she wasn’t about to let her fall off the mountain.
Christie’s head appeared above them. “My God, are you okay?”
“Yeah, we’re good, right, Aaliyah?” Kayla flashed her a smile. “She just decided to do some exploring.”
Both girls stared at her with shocked expressions, so she switched gears. “Aaliyah, I’m going to put my boot on this foothold here, and you’re going to step up on my leg. Don’t worry, Chris will grab your arms, right Chris?”
“I’ve got you, Aaliyah,” Christie said.
The girl whimpered as she stepped up, then clambered frantically as Christie caught her outstretched hand. Kayla swore as Aaliyah’s muddy boot stepped on her shoulder, then kicked her in the face on the way up. Outstretched arms grabbed the terrified young woman as recruits pulled her the rest of the way. They soothed her fright as she burst into tears. Once Kayla had climbed back over the edge, she turned back to admire the perilous drop.
“Nice one,” she laughed and wiped dirt off her cheek. “We’re really going for the scenic route on this hike.”
“We haven’t reached the checkpoint yet,” Christie said with a frown. “But she clearly needs a break.”
Kayla looked at the sopping wet girl. “Well, we can’t stop here, or the instructors will yell at us. Tell you what, Aaliyah, hold on to my backpack strap and I’ll keep an eye on you.”
Aaliyah, still trembling, shook her head. “I don’t think I can.”
Kayla reminded herself to be patient with the girl. She had just survived a near death experience. “Don’t think about it, just do it, and you’ll feel better in no time,” she tried, as sensitively as she could manage.
Kiki Marinos kicked a fallen branch. “This is ridiculous. Somebody’s going to get hurt, and what is the point of it?”
Kayla sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “So go find an instructor.”
The red-faced Kiki waved her off. “We mastered hiking two weeks ago and now they pull this crap, sticking rocks in our backpacks. Maybe they want to make us quit through injury to make themselves look tougher. I’ve seen it before in the sports world.”
Kayla wanted to snap. Kiki was another fool that ought to have quit long ago and threatened to often enough. But they were supposed to be learning to be teammates, so Kayla tried to check her anger. “We are getting stronger, Kiki,” she pointed out. “We’re hiking further with more weight.”
“I was already fit enough when I joined, and this abuse isn’t helping me develop in any way. It’s just pointless,” Kiki said bitterly.
“It isn’t pointless,” Christie said. “They want us to be comfortable being uncomfortable.”
Kayla shook her head, confused by Kiki’s attitude. Did she not understand that they had signed up to suffer? Hadn’t she paid attention to everything they had been told in the first day’s presentation? If they were going to face death, why wouldn’t they want to push to their limit every day, to get better, stronger, and faster with every second of time available? Aaliyah’s fall had been a sharp reminder that there weren’t always going to be instructors around to protect them from their own mistakes.
Kayla was about to argue this point when she caught sight of movement in the trees. “Okay, there’s an instructor headed this way. Christie, lead on. Aaliyah with me. Kiki, panic.”
“Kayla—” Aaliyah began, her mud-stained face a mask of doubt and pain.
“I tell you what,” Kayla said, “why don’t you just get through this, and you can quit tomorrow? How about that?” She held out her hand.
Aaliyah sighed, wiped away a tear, and struggled to stand up. Kayla grabbed her arm and felt it tremble in her grip as she hauled the recruit to her feet.
Half an hour later, Christie stopped to peer intently at the map. “I believe this is the checkpoint. So, a rest stop is in order.”
They flopped to the ground in silence, pulled out canteens, and gulped down water. To Kayla, the cool liquid was the sweetest, most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. Leaves rustled in the trees, and her body began to feel like a lead weight. Soft, rhythmic pain coursed through her nerves, which promised warmth and happiness if she would rest. The world blurred as her eyes unfocused.
Christie shuffled over to her, and she sighed as she pulled herself back from the reverie.
“Are you okay?” Christie asked. “It got a bit hairy earlier.”
Kayla shook her head. “I should have stopped Aaliyah before she fell. I knew she was going to trip again, but I let myself get tired, like an idiot.”
“But you reacted quickly,” Christie said. “Didn’t the thirty-foot fall didn’t concern you at all?”
Kayla shrugged again before swallowing more water. “We made it back up, no problem.” The memory had faded, and like the others, had already taken on the nature of a dream, or something she had seen happen to someone else. When she thought back to the moment, a shock of electricity burned in her chest, but it was only pain, and she had learned to ignore that long ago.
“Aaliyah said that you were seconds away from going over yourself.”
“She’s exaggerating; it was fine. What’s your point?”
“That you are a mentally deranged individual that cannot even be entrusted with protecting your own life.” Christie punched her in the arm.
“Cheer up girls,” Thandi said, as she sat up on her rucksack. “Pain makes you stronger. You know, you cannot cross a river without getting wet. That’s a Zulu saying.”
Christie smirked. “Wasn’t there a story about Shaka Zulu? That he ordered his best soldiers to march off a cliff, just to prove how loyal they were?”
Thandi flopped her hand in a half-hearted gesture. “That story is a lie, invented by European colonizers. Shaka was a military genius who transformed the Zulu kingdom.”
“By ruthlessly destroying any tribe that stood against him?” Christie said.
Thandi took a breath and raised her eyebrows. “The British conquest of Zululand was also an act of naked, unprovoked aggression.”
Kayla rolled her eyes. Were these two serious, arguing about history when everyone was exhausted?
Christie sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow. “Well, actually, I would argue that if Queen Victoria had known the true intentions of the colonial governor, she would have put a stop to the whole thing.”
“Irrelevant. The British aristocratic class was institutionally motivated—”
“How in the name of whatever freaking deity,” Kayla said, “do you two have the energy for this kind of debate?”
“History matters,” Thandi said. “You can’t confront the future if you don’t learn from the past.”
“I didn’t realize we had a scholar among us,” Christie said.
Thandi gave her a cold smile. “Threatening your expertise, Helvet?”
“Stop calling me that,” Christie snapped. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
Thandi looked away.
“You two are cute together,” Kayla said.
“And you enjoy causing trouble, don’t you?” Christie said.
“A little bit,” Kayla admitted, too tired to pretend otherwise.
“You are childish, and you lack respect,” Thandi said. “In a ring, I would beat you easily.”
“We aren’t training to get in a ring,” Kayla said. “And I don’t think something that wants to kill you is going to show a lot of respect.”
Thandi said nothing.
Chisom sat up. “Why are you girls friends? All you do is argue.”
Thandi was about to reply, but stopped, staring off down the hill. “Trouble at seven o’clock,” she muttered.
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Prequel (Chapters 1 to 16)
2023.12.13 14:29 MountainSkald A Valkyrie's Saga - Part 40
Prequel (Parts 1 to 16)
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First ¦ Previous ¦ Next ¦ Royal Road
The heat of the sun blasted Kayla’s face as she crested the hill, gasping for air. There could be no doubt that she had been transported to hell. Most of her body ached with pain, her lungs burned and her heart pounded like it was going to explode out of her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t felt exhausted.
“Lord, when does it end?” Thandi complained next to her.
“When you can’t stand up,” Kayla gasped. She willed her burning thighs to take another step, though the pain was pushing tears into her eyes.
Their small group had been hiking for hours, each recruit taking turns to read the map and set the path. Occasionally, an instructor would emerge from the trees, check on them, then move on. When they weren’t hiking in the hills, they were doing PT in camp, only gaining respite from the workouts during the classroom sessions, where they studied first-aid, navigation, or military history. Each week, Kayla noticed the morning assembly on the parade ground was smaller and smaller.
The instructors had started by taking the recruits on four-hour hikes, carrying packs filled with food, water, and clothes. When they were able to finish those marches, the time was increased to six hours, and at least once a week, ten hours. The instructors took them into the hills far from the coastline, so they could learn how to take bearings, identify landmarks, and guide themselves. Once the recruits had demonstrated their ability to navigate, their packs were filled with rocks. Kayla forced herself to accept each new layer of stress without complaint. The purpose of the training was clear; they would never be comfortable.
On this hike, she was confident she would make it to the end, though she struggled to stay focused. Ahead, Kayla saw Aaliyah stumble over a loose stone. She looked like she was falling asleep, and had been dragging her feet, careless of the rough terrain. Kayla wondered if she should grab the recruit and try to wake her up, but moving her own trembling legs was demanding enough.
Their group, led by Christie, was climbing up a steep mountain slope on a deteriorating rock-strewn path. When they came to a stream, Kayla watched anxiously while Aaliyah stepped on the glistening wet slabs. Her foot slipped and her body smacked into the rock. Then she was sliding, losing control as gravity dragged her down the steep hillside towards the top of a waterfall.
Pain forgotten, Kayla dropped her pack and vaulted over the stream, scrambling through the dirt and trees on the other side. Looking over, she saw the terrified girl had come to a stop, clutching onto thin branches as she hung over a thirty-foot drop. Kayla peered over the cliff, spotted a rocky ledge below, and began to climb down.
She lowered herself, but had trouble finding the ledge with her outstretched foot. Her arms reached full extension and Kayla offered a silent prayer. When her toes met resistance, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Shuffling across the cliff face, she came to the struggling Aaliyah, who was trying to haul herself up as others gasped and yelled fruitless advice from above.
Kayla evaluated the scene and thought quickly. First, she had to get her attention. “Hey—it’s Aaliyah, right?” she asked.
The girl’s head snapped around, eyes wide with panic. “Help! I’m slipping!” she cried desperately.
Kayla found a solid hold with her right hand, then, steadying herself, leaned across the sickening drop. “See that hole in the rock across from you? Look where I’m pointing!”
Aaliyah’s eyes focused on the weathered limestone as her muscles strained.
“If you grab my arm,” Kayla continued, “you can put your left hand there and you’ll swing onto this ledge.”
Aaliyah looked sick as she contemplated the acrobatic maneuver.
“Don’t hesitate,” Kayla continued. “Just do it. Grab my arm. Come on!” she yelled as a feeble branch began to rip itself away.
Aaliyah moved like lightning, and Kayla winced as her fingernails drew blood from her arm. The desperate recruit found the handhold, and Kayla pulled hard as her legs swung onto the ledge. She held firmly onto the shaking girl, reassuring her that she wasn’t about to let her fall off the mountain.
Christie’s head appeared above them. “My God, are you okay?”
“Yeah, we’re good, right, Aaliyah?” Kayla flashed her a smile. “She just decided to do some exploring.”
Both girls stared at her with shocked expressions, so she switched gears. “Aaliyah, I’m going to put my boot on this foothold here, and you’re going to step up on my leg. Don’t worry, Chris will grab your arms, right Chris?”
“I’ve got you, Aaliyah,” Christie said.
The girl whimpered as she stepped up, then clambered frantically as Christie caught her outstretched hand. Kayla swore as Aaliyah’s muddy boot stepped on her shoulder, then kicked her in the face on the way up. Outstretched arms grabbed the terrified young woman as recruits pulled her the rest of the way. They soothed her fright as she burst into tears. Once Kayla had climbed back over the edge, she turned back to admire the perilous drop.
“Nice one,” she laughed and wiped dirt off her cheek. “We’re really going for the scenic route on this hike.”
“We haven’t reached the checkpoint yet,” Christie said with a frown. “But she clearly needs a break.”
Kayla looked at the sopping wet girl. “Well, we can’t stop here, or the instructors will yell at us. Tell you what, Aaliyah, hold on to my backpack strap and I’ll keep an eye on you.”
Aaliyah, still trembling, shook her head. “I don’t think I can.”
Kayla reminded herself to be patient with the girl. She had just survived a near death experience. “Don’t think about it, just do it, and you’ll feel better in no time,” she tried, as sensitively as she could manage.
Kiki Marinos kicked a fallen branch. “This is ridiculous. Somebody’s going to get hurt, and what is the point of it?”
Kayla sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “So go find an instructor.”
The red-faced Kiki waved her off. “We mastered hiking two weeks ago and now they pull this crap, sticking rocks in our backpacks. Maybe they want to make us quit through injury to make themselves look tougher. I’ve seen it before in the sports world.”
Kayla wanted to snap. Kiki was another fool that ought to have quit long ago and threatened to often enough. But they were supposed to be learning to be teammates, so Kayla tried to check her anger. “We are getting stronger, Kiki,” she pointed out. “We’re hiking further with more weight.”
“I was already fit enough when I joined, and this abuse isn’t helping me develop in any way. It’s just pointless,” Kiki said bitterly.
“It isn’t pointless,” Christie said. “They want us to be comfortable being uncomfortable.”
Kayla shook her head, confused by Kiki’s attitude. Did she not understand that they had signed up to suffer? Hadn’t she paid attention to everything they had been told in the first day’s presentation? If they were going to face death, why wouldn’t they want to push to their limit every day, to get better, stronger, and faster with every second of time available? Aaliyah’s fall had been a sharp reminder that there weren’t always going to be instructors around to protect them from their own mistakes.
Kayla was about to argue this point when she caught sight of movement in the trees. “Okay, there’s an instructor headed this way. Christie, lead on. Aaliyah with me. Kiki, panic.”
“Kayla—” Aaliyah began, her mud-stained face a mask of doubt and pain.
“I tell you what,” Kayla said, “why don’t you just get through this, and you can quit tomorrow? How about that?” She held out her hand.
Aaliyah sighed, wiped away a tear, and struggled to stand up. Kayla grabbed her arm and felt it tremble in her grip as she hauled the recruit to her feet.
Half an hour later, Christie stopped to peer intently at the map. “I believe this is the checkpoint. So, a rest stop is in order.”
They flopped to the ground in silence, pulled out canteens, and gulped down water. To Kayla, the cool liquid was the sweetest, most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. Leaves rustled in the trees, and her body began to feel like a lead weight. Soft, rhythmic pain coursed through her nerves, which promised warmth and happiness if she would rest. The world blurred as her eyes unfocused.
Christie shuffled over to her, and she sighed as she pulled herself back from the reverie.
“Are you okay?” Christie asked. “It got a bit hairy earlier.”
Kayla shook her head. “I should have stopped Aaliyah before she fell. I knew she was going to trip again, but I let myself get tired, like an idiot.”
“But you reacted quickly,” Christie said. “Didn’t the thirty-foot fall didn’t concern you at all?”
Kayla shrugged again before swallowing more water. “We made it back up, no problem.” The memory had faded, and like the others, had already taken on the nature of a dream, or something she had seen happen to someone else. When she thought back to the moment, a shock of electricity burned in her chest, but it was only pain, and she had learned to ignore that long ago.
“Aaliyah said that you were seconds away from going over yourself.”
“She’s exaggerating; it was fine. What’s your point?”
“That you are a mentally deranged individual that cannot even be entrusted with protecting your own life.” Christie punched her in the arm.
“Cheer up girls,” Thandi said, as she sat up on her rucksack. “Pain makes you stronger. You know, you cannot cross a river without getting wet. That’s a Zulu saying.”
Christie smirked. “Wasn’t there a story about Shaka Zulu? That he ordered his best soldiers to march off a cliff, just to prove how loyal they were?”
Thandi flopped her hand in a half-hearted gesture. “That story is a lie, invented by European colonizers. Shaka was a military genius who transformed the Zulu kingdom.”
“By ruthlessly destroying any tribe that stood against him?” Christie said.
Thandi took a breath and raised her eyebrows. “The British conquest of Zululand was also an act of naked, unprovoked aggression.”
Kayla rolled her eyes. Were these two serious, arguing about history when everyone was exhausted?
Christie sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow. “Well, actually, I would argue that if Queen Victoria had known the true intentions of the colonial governor, she would have put a stop to the whole thing.”
“Irrelevant. The British aristocratic class was institutionally motivated—”
“How in the name of whatever freaking deity,” Kayla said, “do you two have the energy for this kind of debate?”
“History matters,” Thandi said. “You can’t confront the future if you don’t learn from the past.”
“I didn’t realize we had a scholar among us,” Christie said.
Thandi gave her a cold smile. “Threatening your expertise, Helvet?”
“Stop calling me that,” Christie snapped. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
Thandi looked away.
“You two are cute together,” Kayla said.
“And you enjoy causing trouble, don’t you?” Christie said.
“A little bit,” Kayla admitted, too tired to pretend otherwise.
“You are childish, and you lack respect,” Thandi said. “In a ring, I would beat you easily.”
“We aren’t training to get in a ring,” Kayla said. “And I don’t think something that wants to kill you is going to show a lot of respect.”
Thandi said nothing.
Chisom sat up. “Why are you girls friends? All you do is argue.”
Thandi was about to reply, but stopped, staring off down the hill. “Trouble at seven o’clock,” she muttered.
First ¦ Previous ¦ Next ¦ Royal Road
Get the book on Amazon - Or keep reading the full story through daily chapters.
Prequel (Parts 1 to 16)
submitted by MountainSkald to HFY [link] [comments]
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First ¦ Previous ¦ Next ¦ Royal Road
The heat of the sun blasted Kayla’s face as she crested the hill, gasping for air. There could be no doubt that she had been transported to hell. Most of her body ached with pain, her lungs burned and her heart pounded like it was going to explode out of her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t felt exhausted.
“Lord, when does it end?” Thandi complained next to her.
“When you can’t stand up,” Kayla gasped. She willed her burning thighs to take another step, though the pain was pushing tears into her eyes.
Their small group had been hiking for hours, each recruit taking turns to read the map and set the path. Occasionally, an instructor would emerge from the trees, check on them, then move on. When they weren’t hiking in the hills, they were doing PT in camp, only gaining respite from the workouts during the classroom sessions, where they studied first-aid, navigation, or military history. Each week, Kayla noticed the morning assembly on the parade ground was smaller and smaller.
The instructors had started by taking the recruits on four-hour hikes, carrying packs filled with food, water, and clothes. When they were able to finish those marches, the time was increased to six hours, and at least once a week, ten hours. The instructors took them into the hills far from the coastline, so they could learn how to take bearings, identify landmarks, and guide themselves. Once the recruits had demonstrated their ability to navigate, their packs were filled with rocks. Kayla forced herself to accept each new layer of stress without complaint. The purpose of the training was clear; they would never be comfortable.
On this hike, she was confident she would make it to the end, though she struggled to stay focused. Ahead, Kayla saw Aaliyah stumble over a loose stone. She looked like she was falling asleep, and had been dragging her feet, careless of the rough terrain. Kayla wondered if she should grab the recruit and try to wake her up, but moving her own trembling legs was demanding enough.
Their group, led by Christie, was climbing up a steep mountain slope on a deteriorating rock-strewn path. When they came to a stream, Kayla watched anxiously while Aaliyah stepped on the glistening wet slabs. Her foot slipped and her body smacked into the rock. Then she was sliding, losing control as gravity dragged her down the steep hillside towards the top of a waterfall.
Pain forgotten, Kayla dropped her pack and vaulted over the stream, scrambling through the dirt and trees on the other side. Looking over, she saw the terrified girl had come to a stop, clutching onto thin branches as she hung over a thirty-foot drop. Kayla peered over the cliff, spotted a rocky ledge below, and began to climb down.
She lowered herself, but had trouble finding the ledge with her outstretched foot. Her arms reached full extension and Kayla offered a silent prayer. When her toes met resistance, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Shuffling across the cliff face, she came to the struggling Aaliyah, who was trying to haul herself up as others gasped and yelled fruitless advice from above.
Kayla evaluated the scene and thought quickly. First, she had to get her attention. “Hey—it’s Aaliyah, right?” she asked.
The girl’s head snapped around, eyes wide with panic. “Help! I’m slipping!” she cried desperately.
Kayla found a solid hold with her right hand, then, steadying herself, leaned across the sickening drop. “See that hole in the rock across from you? Look where I’m pointing!”
Aaliyah’s eyes focused on the weathered limestone as her muscles strained.
“If you grab my arm,” Kayla continued, “you can put your left hand there and you’ll swing onto this ledge.”
Aaliyah looked sick as she contemplated the acrobatic maneuver.
“Don’t hesitate,” Kayla continued. “Just do it. Grab my arm. Come on!” she yelled as a feeble branch began to rip itself away.
Aaliyah moved like lightning, and Kayla winced as her fingernails drew blood from her arm. The desperate recruit found the handhold, and Kayla pulled hard as her legs swung onto the ledge. She held firmly onto the shaking girl, reassuring her that she wasn’t about to let her fall off the mountain.
Christie’s head appeared above them. “My God, are you okay?”
“Yeah, we’re good, right, Aaliyah?” Kayla flashed her a smile. “She just decided to do some exploring.”
Both girls stared at her with shocked expressions, so she switched gears. “Aaliyah, I’m going to put my boot on this foothold here, and you’re going to step up on my leg. Don’t worry, Chris will grab your arms, right Chris?”
“I’ve got you, Aaliyah,” Christie said.
The girl whimpered as she stepped up, then clambered frantically as Christie caught her outstretched hand. Kayla swore as Aaliyah’s muddy boot stepped on her shoulder, then kicked her in the face on the way up. Outstretched arms grabbed the terrified young woman as recruits pulled her the rest of the way. They soothed her fright as she burst into tears. Once Kayla had climbed back over the edge, she turned back to admire the perilous drop.
“Nice one,” she laughed and wiped dirt off her cheek. “We’re really going for the scenic route on this hike.”
“We haven’t reached the checkpoint yet,” Christie said with a frown. “But she clearly needs a break.”
Kayla looked at the sopping wet girl. “Well, we can’t stop here, or the instructors will yell at us. Tell you what, Aaliyah, hold on to my backpack strap and I’ll keep an eye on you.”
Aaliyah, still trembling, shook her head. “I don’t think I can.”
Kayla reminded herself to be patient with the girl. She had just survived a near death experience. “Don’t think about it, just do it, and you’ll feel better in no time,” she tried, as sensitively as she could manage.
Kiki Marinos kicked a fallen branch. “This is ridiculous. Somebody’s going to get hurt, and what is the point of it?”
Kayla sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “So go find an instructor.”
The red-faced Kiki waved her off. “We mastered hiking two weeks ago and now they pull this crap, sticking rocks in our backpacks. Maybe they want to make us quit through injury to make themselves look tougher. I’ve seen it before in the sports world.”
Kayla wanted to snap. Kiki was another fool that ought to have quit long ago and threatened to often enough. But they were supposed to be learning to be teammates, so Kayla tried to check her anger. “We are getting stronger, Kiki,” she pointed out. “We’re hiking further with more weight.”
“I was already fit enough when I joined, and this abuse isn’t helping me develop in any way. It’s just pointless,” Kiki said bitterly.
“It isn’t pointless,” Christie said. “They want us to be comfortable being uncomfortable.”
Kayla shook her head, confused by Kiki’s attitude. Did she not understand that they had signed up to suffer? Hadn’t she paid attention to everything they had been told in the first day’s presentation? If they were going to face death, why wouldn’t they want to push to their limit every day, to get better, stronger, and faster with every second of time available? Aaliyah’s fall had been a sharp reminder that there weren’t always going to be instructors around to protect them from their own mistakes.
Kayla was about to argue this point when she caught sight of movement in the trees. “Okay, there’s an instructor headed this way. Christie, lead on. Aaliyah with me. Kiki, panic.”
“Kayla—” Aaliyah began, her mud-stained face a mask of doubt and pain.
“I tell you what,” Kayla said, “why don’t you just get through this, and you can quit tomorrow? How about that?” She held out her hand.
Aaliyah sighed, wiped away a tear, and struggled to stand up. Kayla grabbed her arm and felt it tremble in her grip as she hauled the recruit to her feet.
Half an hour later, Christie stopped to peer intently at the map. “I believe this is the checkpoint. So, a rest stop is in order.”
They flopped to the ground in silence, pulled out canteens, and gulped down water. To Kayla, the cool liquid was the sweetest, most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. Leaves rustled in the trees, and her body began to feel like a lead weight. Soft, rhythmic pain coursed through her nerves, which promised warmth and happiness if she would rest. The world blurred as her eyes unfocused.
Christie shuffled over to her, and she sighed as she pulled herself back from the reverie.
“Are you okay?” Christie asked. “It got a bit hairy earlier.”
Kayla shook her head. “I should have stopped Aaliyah before she fell. I knew she was going to trip again, but I let myself get tired, like an idiot.”
“But you reacted quickly,” Christie said. “Didn’t the thirty-foot fall didn’t concern you at all?”
Kayla shrugged again before swallowing more water. “We made it back up, no problem.” The memory had faded, and like the others, had already taken on the nature of a dream, or something she had seen happen to someone else. When she thought back to the moment, a shock of electricity burned in her chest, but it was only pain, and she had learned to ignore that long ago.
“Aaliyah said that you were seconds away from going over yourself.”
“She’s exaggerating; it was fine. What’s your point?”
“That you are a mentally deranged individual that cannot even be entrusted with protecting your own life.” Christie punched her in the arm.
“Cheer up girls,” Thandi said, as she sat up on her rucksack. “Pain makes you stronger. You know, you cannot cross a river without getting wet. That’s a Zulu saying.”
Christie smirked. “Wasn’t there a story about Shaka Zulu? That he ordered his best soldiers to march off a cliff, just to prove how loyal they were?”
Thandi flopped her hand in a half-hearted gesture. “That story is a lie, invented by European colonizers. Shaka was a military genius who transformed the Zulu kingdom.”
“By ruthlessly destroying any tribe that stood against him?” Christie said.
Thandi took a breath and raised her eyebrows. “The British conquest of Zululand was also an act of naked, unprovoked aggression.”
Kayla rolled her eyes. Were these two serious, arguing about history when everyone was exhausted?
Christie sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow. “Well, actually, I would argue that if Queen Victoria had known the true intentions of the colonial governor, she would have put a stop to the whole thing.”
“Irrelevant. The British aristocratic class was institutionally motivated—”
“How in the name of whatever freaking deity,” Kayla said, “do you two have the energy for this kind of debate?”
“History matters,” Thandi said. “You can’t confront the future if you don’t learn from the past.”
“I didn’t realize we had a scholar among us,” Christie said.
Thandi gave her a cold smile. “Threatening your expertise, Helvet?”
“Stop calling me that,” Christie snapped. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
Thandi looked away.
“You two are cute together,” Kayla said.
“And you enjoy causing trouble, don’t you?” Christie said.
“A little bit,” Kayla admitted, too tired to pretend otherwise.
“You are childish, and you lack respect,” Thandi said. “In a ring, I would beat you easily.”
“We aren’t training to get in a ring,” Kayla said. “And I don’t think something that wants to kill you is going to show a lot of respect.”
Thandi said nothing.
Chisom sat up. “Why are you girls friends? All you do is argue.”
Thandi was about to reply, but stopped, staring off down the hill. “Trouble at seven o’clock,” she muttered.
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Prequel (Parts 1 to 16)
2023.11.07 09:11 Nickulvatten My experience with SIBO and what has helped the most
From all the things I read and watched and the symptoms I had, mainly the weight loss,vitamin deficiencies,severe bloating and gas,constipation,liver pain and also the odorless gas I was passing, I connected the dots and realized it had to be SIBO and Methane-dominant at that. I didn't do the test as the only test available in my country is the Hydrogen breath test and it would've been pointless to do. I knew trying a herbal antimicrobial is not an option, as I have tried oil of Oregano and a herbal tea that supposedly was soothing for an inflamed GI track and both gave me brutal flare-ups. After a bunch of research I decided to try a 7 day course of Amoxicillin-Clavulante, after the first dose of 2 pills I felt amazing the next day, I had loads of energy and was no longer sensitive to the cold,bloating and gas gone, I was back to normal. Of course this was short lived the days after I reverted to the old condition and I felt the antibiotic was inflamming my colon. A few months after I managed to get some Rifaxamin imported, but due to a mistake of the buyer I only had enough for a 7-day course. I also used NAC in combo with the Rifaxamin supposedly as a biofilm disruptor. The Rifaxamin course only made me feel weird and didn't really seem to improve my condition but perhaps got the levels of bacterial overgrowth down somewhat.
I have also tried multiple supplements such as Ginger root,Globe artichoke,Sodium Butyrate,various probiotics(one of which gave me an allergic reaction! It was a locally produced liquid probiotic be careful with probiotics!),Ox Bile,Betaine Hydrochloride. All of these didn't really help some made it worse and only delayed my recovery.
What you all probably know is that while SIBO is a nasty life-wrecking disease it is more akin to a symptom of something else gone wrong and it does not occur on its own, the root cause of it is essentially impaired motility. With me I realized it is a combination of many different factors, on one hand I have a genetic predisposition for GI issues running in my family, years of junk food. But what really dealth the final blow was a long period of time where I worked long hours in a cold,damp mold-infested environment(I do not spend time in that place anymore) not eating for hours because I was so concentrated on my project,not ever drinking water or going to the toilet and then stuffing my face with junk food at the end of the day. I also had problems with chronic stress and often being stuck in a fight or flight mode due to fears and anxiety which essentially slows your motility to a snail's pace. Also NEVER take Saccharomyces Boulardii if you have Constipation-Dominant SIBO it will make the constipation way worse.
What has helped me the most to restart my motility has been Magnesium, both Chelated Magnesium and Magnesium Citrate worked good for me, I used to take two capsules or 500mg per day to for about 4 months and I was having regular bowel movement everyday. Also cutting out all Dairy products as they contain Caseinomorphine and will exacerbate your constipation and also trigger autoimmune responses.
I have also tried various diets Low-Fodmap,Low-Fermentation,Carnivore(carnivore almost ended me and made me feel like crap) Of course the most obvious cutting out all white sugar,candy,cakes,chocolate,soda and highly-processed foods has helped me tremendously. Currently I eat boiled rice,potatoes,fatty meats,some nuts such as walnuts and hazelnuts every once in a while,apples,fish,liver,lentils,eggs every once in a while as I also have autoimmune arthritis and eggs are a trigger, this diet seems to suit me best and if I stray from it I run into issues. I am also gluten-free as I developed gluten ataxia during this whole ordeal.
A bit on the psychological side, I know it is difficult to not think about this disease but don't even think of it as such, rather see it as a challenge that you have to figure out and overcome and don't think about it all the time. I have made the most progress and recovery when I stopped hanging in this subreddit all day long reading post after post and trying various treatments, I realized there is a lesson in every situation in life and only when you learn the lesson you can move forward. The lesson here was that my body was communicating to me that it will heal the best on its own and I need to leave it alone and stop tormenting it with medication and that I needed to face my fears and get away from stressful situation and toxic people that do not have my best interest in mind. You need to spend time outside in the fresh air, in the sun,we where built for hard manual labor and not staring into a screen all day. I haven't had any supplements or medication in 6 months and I am better than I have been in a long time.
Thank you for your time and attention and I hope you found something helpful and useful in it. Feel free to ask me anything, when it comes to GI problems there is no one size fits all what will help one person will worsen the condition of another, you have to keep experimenting and not lose hope! I know you have the power and capacity to make it through this! All the best of luck to you!
submitted by Nickulvatten to SIBO [link] [comments]
I have also tried multiple supplements such as Ginger root,Globe artichoke,Sodium Butyrate,various probiotics(one of which gave me an allergic reaction! It was a locally produced liquid probiotic be careful with probiotics!),Ox Bile,Betaine Hydrochloride. All of these didn't really help some made it worse and only delayed my recovery.
What you all probably know is that while SIBO is a nasty life-wrecking disease it is more akin to a symptom of something else gone wrong and it does not occur on its own, the root cause of it is essentially impaired motility. With me I realized it is a combination of many different factors, on one hand I have a genetic predisposition for GI issues running in my family, years of junk food. But what really dealth the final blow was a long period of time where I worked long hours in a cold,damp mold-infested environment(I do not spend time in that place anymore) not eating for hours because I was so concentrated on my project,not ever drinking water or going to the toilet and then stuffing my face with junk food at the end of the day. I also had problems with chronic stress and often being stuck in a fight or flight mode due to fears and anxiety which essentially slows your motility to a snail's pace. Also NEVER take Saccharomyces Boulardii if you have Constipation-Dominant SIBO it will make the constipation way worse.
What has helped me the most to restart my motility has been Magnesium, both Chelated Magnesium and Magnesium Citrate worked good for me, I used to take two capsules or 500mg per day to for about 4 months and I was having regular bowel movement everyday. Also cutting out all Dairy products as they contain Caseinomorphine and will exacerbate your constipation and also trigger autoimmune responses.
I have also tried various diets Low-Fodmap,Low-Fermentation,Carnivore(carnivore almost ended me and made me feel like crap) Of course the most obvious cutting out all white sugar,candy,cakes,chocolate,soda and highly-processed foods has helped me tremendously. Currently I eat boiled rice,potatoes,fatty meats,some nuts such as walnuts and hazelnuts every once in a while,apples,fish,liver,lentils,eggs every once in a while as I also have autoimmune arthritis and eggs are a trigger, this diet seems to suit me best and if I stray from it I run into issues. I am also gluten-free as I developed gluten ataxia during this whole ordeal.
A bit on the psychological side, I know it is difficult to not think about this disease but don't even think of it as such, rather see it as a challenge that you have to figure out and overcome and don't think about it all the time. I have made the most progress and recovery when I stopped hanging in this subreddit all day long reading post after post and trying various treatments, I realized there is a lesson in every situation in life and only when you learn the lesson you can move forward. The lesson here was that my body was communicating to me that it will heal the best on its own and I need to leave it alone and stop tormenting it with medication and that I needed to face my fears and get away from stressful situation and toxic people that do not have my best interest in mind. You need to spend time outside in the fresh air, in the sun,we where built for hard manual labor and not staring into a screen all day. I haven't had any supplements or medication in 6 months and I am better than I have been in a long time.
Thank you for your time and attention and I hope you found something helpful and useful in it. Feel free to ask me anything, when it comes to GI problems there is no one size fits all what will help one person will worsen the condition of another, you have to keep experimenting and not lose hope! I know you have the power and capacity to make it through this! All the best of luck to you!
2023.10.28 16:52 Storms_Wrath The Human Artificial Hivemind Part 429: Eldest Child
First Previous Wiki
"General, they're mobilizing," the officer said, bowing his head to Quish. "Should we intervene?"
"It may be a trap," he replied. He had seen his fair share of those recently. The Alliance knew he was out here but couldn't hit him yet. If he moved the fleet, then it might become visible. And yet, the Alliance had also captured some stealth ships while perpetuating attacks on the networks of the ships. Phoebe likely had compromised more things than he was privy to.
"It may."
Currently, there was little of interest going on. The Alliance's shipyards around Mercury continued to be an impregnable target. Nothing he had could reach them without risking the safety of the entire fleet. The Sol Defense Fleet was only continuing to expand. Phoebe's contributions were a nearly constant stream of smaller ships from Luna and Earth. FTL suppression blanketed the entire system, and current communications were only as fast as light.
The stealth fleet was waiting above the solar plane, now roughly positioned above Mars. It had once been populated by humans, but it hadn't been re-established after the Trikkec bombed the colony out of existence. He felt that deciding not to remain on an entire planet for the sake of a quaint memorial was pointless, but obviously, the Alliance thought differently.
And it was one less point to defend, so maybe it did have some merit that way. Quish had been doing nothing but thinking and giving general orders to the fleet. Luckily, food and water supplies were still decently high. Oxygen and nitrogen storage wasn't doing as well, though. And even the smaller things, like contraception, were starting to deplete.
Trapping many people who knew each other well in one ship for a long time did things like that. Quish missed Cradle's open skies and the soothing sight of oceans and cities. He was starting to hate being cooped up here.
He also had some urge to attack the Mars monument. It was one of the few planetary locations that wasn't heavily defended. Yet he also suspected that was a trap, too. If he attacked that, the Alliance would have even more enmity toward the Republic. They could use that to pound their populace into more effective fighting stances. Pacifism was a major weakness of the Alliance, but it was becoming rarer and rarer. Few of them were arguing against stronger responses.
In addition, the Alliance had ramped up the construction of battlecruisers, battleships, and even dreadnaughts by tens of times. Mercury was almost as fortified as Earth and Luna. The Dyson swarm had a massive network of small shields covering it, making destroying enough of the nodes costly. And even when one was destroyed, ten more would replace it.
He'd have to make a move soon. So far, smaller Alliance ships were streaming into portals from Brey. The psychic attacks must have failed to reach her, then. A shame. He had a limited supply of Mind Assassins available, too. Every single attack had the highest probability of success. And yet, there was something that always went wrong. He hated it.
The officer didn't argue with him; he just sat back down at his station again. Quish was fine with that. He had his exoskeleton prop him up, then give him a small amount of drugs to heal him quicker from blisters.
"Sir, there's odd behavior around Sol."
"Show me," Quish said, his heart dropping. He had dealt with so much already.
"Well, the star released a coronal mass ejection. The thing is, that there's some strange readings near the front of it, and it appears to be... steering itself."
"So you're telling me they weaponized the star itself?" Quish said incredulously.
"Well, it's possible. Their smaller laser guided weapons have an outright insane ability to aim. That's a sign of some serious particle or quantum technology. And records show that they've had that for years. However, this coronal mass ejection itself doesn't show any signs of artificiality. It's not even aimed this way, in fact. It's just... expanding every way. Into complex shapes."
"Show me."
Quish watched the technician pull up a hologram view. The speed was slow. He could evade the initial line of detection by simple orbit. But then he saw what was happening. It was forming a giant disk. More solar particles were starting to be drawn out.
"Sir, massive energy readings from the Dyson swarm!" another technician said.
He brought Quish an image of the swarm refocusing sunlight back into three locations on the star; which each had a group of Breyyanik star lifters and a smattering of cruisers, frigates, and destroyers on guard nearby. Massive magnetic fields pulled material off- oh.
"We need to start our attack," Quish said.
"Why?" a captain asked, tuning into the network. "Can you explain the readings?"
"They're spreading out a film of solar particles to physically scan the entire Sol system. What in the God Emperor's name..."
"Sir? The fleet's mobilizing. The Alliance's dreadnaughts and battlecruisers are all leaving their docks."
"Can we get out of the disk's range before it reaches us?"
"Judging by the radial velocity and how long it would take for our own drives to-"
"Yes, or no?"
"No."
"We can't correct our shields for this sort of thing. We need to start an attack. They're ready for a standard one," Quish said. He thought long and hard about what he was about to do. If his attack was fully successful, then it was likely that the war would escalate to its maximum extreme. But there was little choice. The God Emperor had appeared in another battle, so it was time to hurry up. He made a call.
"Yes?"
"Turn the day to night."
"...Sir? I will need the God Emperor's authorization to carry out that order."
"I shall get it."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Lecalicus sat down on his chair, eating a veritable banquet of food. Simple conveniences like using psychic power to crush it all down so he could continue eating were in use, but he didn't much care.
Kashaunta, the Elder who'd been slowly gathering influence, stood before him. She clearly had some unexplained questions that she wanted to answer. He could tell by the curve of her neck and her posture that she was upset about something.
There were no guards here, as Lecalicus was powerful enough that anything that could take him on would also kill anything nearby.
"Ask away," he said.
"Will you have an exceedingly irrational and prideful response if I do?" Kashaunta spat.
"Only if your question is genuinely stupid."
"Why didn't you tell me that Twilight... imprinted herself on me?"
"I had assumed that she did not coerce you."
"Yes, we mingled, and I went willingly. However, I did not know that she was doing something extra, as well," Kashaunta said. "That is what I am concerned about. You Progenitors all trample over the rest of the galaxy without care."
"As the Sprilnav do over the rest of the galaxy."
Kashaunta sighed. "So you've been developing sympathy for the Alliance, haven't you?"
"I am uncertain. Space does have an affinity to them. Humanity is a somewhat charming species, though it is a shame that they insist on walking on two legs instead of four. It's just... so unstable.""Answer the question."
"No. However, I am altering my viewpoint, so that my pride, which is an issue I know about, will not blind me to changes in the future."
"And why is that?"
"Unless the Broken God exerts an extreme amount of energy on it, killing Penny using speeding space will likely no longer work," Lecalicus said. "So she will return. And if she does, then it is likely she will be able to tip the scales in the battle with the God Emperor."
Kashaunta sat down. She bit into a crab, tearing off its legs to place into her jaws one by one. She gave him a defiant look as if daring him to try and tell her not to. Lecalicus had seen people eat like this before, and far worse, so he didn't really care. And in this room, he didn't need to maintain perceptions.
Letting Kashaunta disrespect him a little while not turning her inside out was because he needed her. But she knew better than to push it since she wasn't stupid. Hopefully.
"Well, we will see," Kashaunta said. "Indrafabar wants me to tangle with the Big Parties. And the Status Quo party in particular."
"He's testing you."
"Yes," Lecalicus said. "That he is."
Lecalicus smiled. Kashaunta only frowned. "What?"
"He's probably in love."
"I'm not doing that crap again," she replied. "You're all crazy. And Twilight's worse this time than she should be. I thought I learned my lesson a few trillion cycles ago, but as it turns out, I hadn't."
"She is. I should be the craziest of them all, and yet I'm not. How about this, Kashaunta? I will not pretend that you will remain bound to anyone. You wish to look out for your own interests. You want what we Progenitors have, which is nearly infinite power, conceptual and societal. So what I can do is ally with you."
"You'll just use me."
"No. We'll use each other, as do all allies. I would also like to invest my resources into your defence contract company. And my offer is not exclusive. I am willing to allow you to work with Indrafabar."
"That's the problem, Lecalicus. You said 'allow,' as if you wouldn't give me a choice otherwise."
"I am a Progenitor, flawed though I may be," Lecalicus replied. "What do you need me to do?"
"Tell me how to become immune to mind control." Kashaunta's eyes held a hungry, almost desperate look. The loss of self-autonomy around Progenitors that many Sprilnav had was clearly something she loathed. But it was also why essentially all Elders were still alive after interacting with them.
Kashaunta herself toed a fine line. She could only get away with more than the other Elders because of her position. But even that had limits. Lecalicus wondered how many other Elders would try to use the secret if it was found out. If he told her, she could sell the process to the highest bidder, which would eventually result in it spreading. Lecalicus knew several ways to break mind control.
One of them was digital uploads. But that meant being killed in many places since AI wasn't accepted widely. Indrafabar was the only one in that scenario which was tolerated, and only because he was still mostly biological, as much as a Progenitor could be considered to be.
Another way of resistance was extensive implant connections or psychic fortifications. If Kashaunta started up the amplifiers Lecalicus knew of around her home base, she could mentally resist him for a long time. Of course, that didn't stop him from going in and either killing her or disabling the amplifiers with extreme force.
But there was a third way, which Kashaunta alone could use due to Twilight's mark and her own unique properties. Lecalicus crossed his claws, placing them on the table. He leaned forward slightly and projected a field of total and complete electromagnetic interference. Sound, light, and noise disappeared. Two small lights activated on Kashaunta's jaws.
They shined back into Lecalicus' eyes, reflecting on her or the blackness surrounding them. Kashaunta bit loudly into the crab to ease the tension of the moment. It was also an attempted show of disinterest in power plays, but Progenitors were power incarnate, so he didn't even need to glorify that with a response. He vibrated psychic energy in front of his mouth.
"It is simple. You need to coalesce your conceptual power and fortify your body's concept with it."
"That doesn't sound simple," Kashaunta laughed.
"Maybe it isn't. However, you do have significant stores of psychic energy. While you cannot become a Progenitor, and do have some conceptual energy that is unusuable, you can still use some. Specifically, there is energy in the moniker of Engineer."
"What about conceptual recursion?"
"I'm evidence that it isn't as strong as once thought," Lecalicus said.
"Yes. Beast, of course."
"Please don't be rude, Kashaunta. I am being kind and genuine here, and giving you information for free."
It was a name Lecalicus had earned but also one he hated. Being reduced to a beast was something he could barely stand. Sometimes, he'd massacred whole rooms for saying that. But he was different now. He'd still kill people if it was necessary but would try not to do it on a whim. It would be easier to gain passive influence that way and to entice people disillusioned with other Progenitors but still grasping for a higher power to work with or for him.
It was the same thing he was doing with Kashaunta. Offering a massive boon or other token of goodwill. Something rare and incredibly treasured. Sprilnav mind control resistance was a massive black market at the highest levels. Indrafabar kept all those 'remedies' from really working, though.Kashaunta, assuming that the Alliance didn't kill her, would live for at least trillions of years based on the conceptual power of Elders combined with genetic engineering alone. Immortality meant that control over one's life was perhaps the most valuable thing anyone could have. Lecalicus knew that well.
"It is not free. You are aware that this is a massive boon, one on par with giving me conceptual energy, a mind bridge, or working old technology."
"Mind bridges are not that valuable."
"With a Progenitor, they are. You're giving things that have not been given in eons, completely casually. You're not insane anymore, and know what you are doing. You intend to forge an alliance with me, and to help to overthrow the natural order."
"There is no natural order. Nature ends where civilization begins. I am the pinnacle of civilization. Civilized barbarity, the strong and rich ruling the weak and poor. This is life. Nature is dead, and it was dead long before the Sprilnav walked out of our first riverside caves. And it only can thrive where it remains undiscovered, untamed. The civilized species tame all that can be tamed, and would shackle the very stars and mountains if it would net them a scrape of higher profit."
"Riverside caves?" Kashaunta asked.
Lecalicus cast his mind back to the old times. The memories were hazy in the extreme. Even with conceptual power, their sheer age made it difficult for him to remember. He'd figured out long ago that it was because the conceptual reality of the Source war had altered the course of the universe.In addition, his age was so extreme that everything else he knew was basically younger than him. He wasn't even made of any of his old cells; they were all modified, dead, or destroyed. Lecalicus had died long ago. A different mind wore his body.
He pushed past the painful memories. Without Space here, dwelling on it too long would push him back into mindless rage.
"When the Sp'rkial'nova, or rather their older predecessor species, was first coming to civilization, we were half aquatic. Now, genetic modifications have removed that, lowering water costs across society. Those changes likely also saved the species as a whole in the madness following the Source war."
"Older species?"
"Yes. We had many names throughout time. The first of them is a name that this universe no longer deserves to be graced by."
"Why?"
"Because the dreams are dead. Before the Source war, there were discussions of hope. We were ascendant. We were being led into true utopia. And now, there are a scant few galaxies even I can safely visit. The void is old, and it is cold."
"Didn't Entropy still exist?"
"She was weaker then. Time and Luck have told me that I'm the one that has caused the most problems. That I go insane and destroy things that hold up the entire universe. And the reason for that, fundamentally, is simple. It is the same reason that so many Elders are insane. The weight of our loss against the Source is so strong that it breaks us down."
Kashaunta's expression turned somber. For a while, they sat and thought. And then Lecalicus spoke again.
"As I am, I am a shadow of my former self. There is no hope left for the Sprilnav. Sooner or later, we will lose. It doesn't matter how, but we will. Whether another Zelisloa comes along and makes the hivemind try and kill us all mercilessly, or whether infighting or arms races destroy us, it will happen no matter what. The universe is too small for progress now. No more experiments with false vacuum weapons, no more forays into dimensional gate technology.
We are scared to open doors for fear of what lies beyond them, when before, we knew we could fight them. And in the beginning, we were one of the first. There was no galactic dynasty to overthrow when we first started. The name Precursor that the rest of the galaxy gives us does not even begin to give us our true scope. We were first. If not the first ever, then we were among the first generation of living species.
An experiment of life, at a time when everything was new. Even the philosophers and scientists who dabbled in universal and conceptual theory, all of whom are dead now, thought that there were people who created us, and made everything. We were looking for them. Instead, we found other species. Only our First Contact was after we'd taken over nearly half a million proto-galaxies. Narvravarana promised us unlimited energy. Instead, we have this. This... uselessness.
Indrafabar owns so much because he's the only one who cares about trying to scrape together a few pebbles compared to the mountains we had before. Humanity is likely the reason I have not gone back to sleep yet to wait until I am brave enough to go and die, in this dead universe bereft of hope."
Kashaunta remained silent.
"Yes, I am very, very old."
"Not just old," Kashaunta said. "You're... from the First World. The First Age of Colonization, before every Elder ever existed."
"Yes."
"Lecalicus... I... I did not know." It looked like she was struggling not to pledge herself to him right there. It made sense, given the sheer prestige given to those from the First World. Of course, that was just an exonym. Technically, the First World was called Ground.
"Few do; I see to it."
"But the influence alone-"
"Would see the other Progenitors gang up to eliminate me. Indrafabar is not the strongest in conceptual power, but is in societal and economic might. If I were to use my background to prove I was from the First World, it would be a monumental shift in politics. Most notably, because only Nova can claim to be more powerful than me currently."
"So will you team up with Indrafabar?"
"I will determine how this iteration of him acts. If he is sensible, then yes. However, I will be cautious, as you should be of both of us."
"I know that well," Kashaunta said. "Does Indrafabar truly love me?"
"I suspect it, though he will be hard to manipulate, no matter how hard you clench."
Kashaunta made a disgusted face. "We're eating."
"The bathroom's down the hall, if you really are that squeamish. Though considering the events of Saittil Four, I doubt that."
"They had made that personal," Kashaunta said defensively. "Do not judge me; you have bathed in the blood of entire species."
"Yes. And I am not judging you. Kashaunta, I just wish things were not so difficult."
"Lecalicus, you don't need to pretend to care about me. I know you only care for yourself and Space."
He bowed his head. It seemed she'd forgotten or put aside her reverence quickly. "Then I am sorry you feel that way. I am sorry that all I am to you is a soulless monster."
"You are a monster, and your soul is thick and stained with blood, Lecalicus," Kashaunta said.
Softly, she added, "Perhaps all of us are. Before the Source war, there was so much hope... so much happiness. True utopia. And now, all that is gone. It would take a miracle to make me feel as happy as I did in those days. Back when the Progenitors were wise leaders, and us Elders were not half-mad with grief."
She looked at the meal in front of her, which he'd paid for to attempt to make her feel like he cared. It was clear he was having an effect on her. Her harsh posture was softening.
Lecalicus did his best to push away his pride as he continued to talk.
"Kashaunta, I apologize for what I may have done in the past for you. But honestly, I am having this meeting with you because I can see the way things are going. The galaxy hates us, as does the Alliance. They would laugh as they slaughter our children. So far, all that has stopped them is vigilant protection of any Sprilnav trade secrets. But they are advancing. Faster than before. Old civilizations make vaults, and when they are purged, new ones unlock them. We are already in crisis."
"You think the Alliance is a true threat?"
"Not the Alliance, but its ideals. Hivemind sightings are rising on fringe Sprilnav colonies, coupled with increases in civil unrest. Corporations and governments in our society teeter on the edge. Indrafabar is the knife, the rest of us are the chasm. Phoebe will attack the Collective again with Edu'frec, and will likely attempt to wipe them all out. Sharing any information with them is a massive risk, for many reasons, but if they destroy the Collective, they also destroy the combined ancestral memories of nearly a thousand galaxies."
"We haven't done anything major to them."
"But Zelisloa did," Lecalicus replied. "The Reaper virus damaged our image irreparably to the Alliance. Far-off genocides are one thing. It's easy to decry wars when you're not in one. But when they occur in your home? Opinions swing. Zelisloa brought the true terror of extinction to the Alliance. It will cause hundreds of thousands of additional casualties among the Sevvi. Maybe billions, based on recent events above Skandikan.
More species hate us totally. And if they had the power to take our position and be us, many of them would happily rebel and do so. A war with the entire galaxy, while it would be decisive, would still mean millions of destroyed planets. Many nations already aim their planet crackers all at one or two of our planets to attempt to intimidate us.
The Alliance will go to war with us when they think they're strong enough. I don't know everything they have in their arsenal, which is expanding at a rapid pace. And I want you to present a front to change the Sprilnav and the Alliance. Steer us away from war, so we will be ready for speeding space when the true war arrives."
"That's treason," Kashaunta replied.
"My dear Kashaunta," Lecalicus said. "I wrote the law on treason. With my backing, there can be no question."
Kashaunta sighed. "They're experimenting with nanites and zero-point energy drawing. They've already mastered the ability to use quantum effects to aim lasers. I only know from raiding Yasihaut's spy complexes. There's a huge mess of politics woven into this. There are over a hundred civil wars, economic wars, propaganda organizations, and more raging. Supercomputers compete to sway public opinion, and silent spies worm their way into secure spaces.
Even by touching this, I was the target of thirty assassins over the past few months. So far, my intelligence has identified no less than four hundred high-level assassinations of Elders due to the ongoing fight over what to do with the Alliance. Nearly ten thousand ships have been destroyed in attempts to destroy the Alliance, Cawlarians, or Vinarii. Not to mention my own battles and the Grand Fleets moving.
Yasihaut isn't alone. She has a massive web of support for a fascinating breadth of reasons. If I went on the warpath again to get to her, it would require millions of deaths and extreme amounts of risk and money. I ran some surveys and simulations. Sprilnav society is separating into factions, all because of the Alliance. Progenitors are involved, too. I don't know which ones. You'll need to get involved for me to be able to move properly. I have no clue where you've been all this time."
"You still can't deal with her, can you?"
Kashaunta snarled with anger.
"You can, quite easily. Just appear in front of her and rip her apart. You can fix almost all our problems if you actually got out and tried. You talk, but do not do. You Progenitors, concepts, and all the rest are cowards, unwilling to bet your own lives by defying others."
"You have a strange idea of cowardice, Elder Kashaunta. May I remind you that you have not attended any Party meetings with other Elders of your level without using holograms in over a thousand years?"
"Prudence is not cowardice, Lecalicus. I would not call you a coward for refusing to dive into a black hole. That is, unless you constantly moan about how no one's exploring them."
"This is not hard to understand, Kashaunta. The timeline would reset. Sadly Yasihaut's become a major player, even if all she does is yap about how evil the Alliance is."
"Can we find a way to start the war early then, and limit it? If we can get Penny back, she can kill Yasihaut now. If not for those stupid Grand Fleet admirals protecting her, I would already have done so. None of the assassins are managing to reach her, which is making me wonder whether other Progenitors aren't being as genuine as you with their cowardice."
She really was pushing it. Lecalicus almost split her down the middle. For a not-so-brief moment, he imagined just taking her and shoving her head into a star's photosphere.
Kashaunta stood and moved back, feeling his psychic energy rising in anger. Lecalicus clamped down on it, pressing his thoughts back down. He missed Space.
"Maybe. It is likely that other conversations will need to be had before we can agree on anything," Lecalicus replied. "But I must know. Can I count on you? As an ally in the upcoming fronts of war?"
Kashaunta smiled. "Yes. We can be allies. Personally, I hope you don't want to betray me. And please stop thinking of ways you can violate me."
"I don't. And all I was doing was thinking of shoving you into a star for constantly insulting me."
"You do see how that's worse, right?" Kashaunta hedged. "That's not exactly a good indicator of friendship."
"Do you want me to give you what you want, or not?"
"No threats?"
"I don't need to threaten you," Lecalicus sighed. "If I wanted to make you truly get scared of me, I'd break one of your legs and eat it. Or perhaps just put one of those radiation generator torture machines in here."
"You're still not too far from insanity, are you?"
"I guess not. But no one who lived through the war is."
"Fair. Now, can you show me how you do this body reinforcing thing you talk about? Show me, don't do it to me. I still don't want anyone messing with me."
"Understandable. And yes, I will help you. By the way, are you still going to attempt to build your special VI to combat Phoebe and Edu'frec's continual march toward technological parity?"
"My VI is entirely ordinary, and is not capable of anything of the sort," Kashaunta deadpanned.
"Sure, sure. Alright. Rule number one of being in an alliance with me. Don't insult me without reason."
"There's many reasons to insult you, though."
"Rule number two," Lecalicus said, teleporting himself to her. "Don't insult me without reason. Got it?"
"Yes, Progenitor. No telling you your breath stinks."
"Elder Kashaunta, do you even have any friends?"
"Do you?"
"Yes. Now. There is no need to be infuriating. Just actually try to keep yourself alive."
"It's fun to tease you."
"It would stop being fun quite quickly. So. The Alliance's matters are less important than directly countering Twilight, Indrafabar, Nova, and Yasihaut. We also need to increase your production of speeding space entity extermination weapons. And finally, we need to teach you how to be a good person."
"You've killed trillions of people."
"Nuh uh. Only a few hundred billion, if you count deaths directly by my claws."
"You destroyed an entire planet of innocents because their leader called you a beast."
"Funny how that happened, isn't it? It's almost like I don't like it when Elders think they can treat me like trash and have no consequences. Especially when they think they're far more valuable to me defiant and angry than implanted with loyalty stimulators. I'm trying to be a better person. But as you've pointed out, killing you won't make me any worse.
You won't live forever if you keep talking to Progenitors like you do. Oh, and by the way, even being able to talk to them like this will make them kill you, so you don't spread the secret of how you avoided direct mental control. Simply put, you need to get back on your leash."
"You are very sensitive."
Lecalicus sighed. "Alright. You asked for it."
He kicked her. Lightly, of course, so he wouldn't kill her. He passively watched as he tied his record for the most walls he'd kicked a live Elder through. She ended her journey by falling out of a skyscraper and crashing through the side of a pyramid.
Technically, it was still a wall. He would wait for the news crews to arrive before humiliating her. Given her personality, she'd be upset but unlikely to push him this far again. And since he was far above her, she couldn't even touch him. Maybe next time, she'd learn some manners. He heard his name.
Lecalicus pinpointed the conceptual thread and saw Nova on the other side. He stepped through it.
"What do you want, Nova?"
"I see you're entering the fray, Lecalicus. Are you ready to see what lies within?"
"What do you want?"
"I want to give you a warning. Do not aid the Alliance."
"You seem afraid, Nova," Lecalicus smiled.
"Not at all. I want to tell you that you are not ready."
"It was the meeting, wasn't it?" he asked. "What Penny caused."
"No. This is a warning for you. And a request."
Lecalicus started to think. He thought about deep things. Concepts came to mind. He looked at Nova, his tail slapping against the ground, carving a dent in the metal.
"I see."
He lifted a single claw, placing it between Nova and himself. Conceptual power exploded outward, wrapping him in light hot and bright enough to burn metal. And indeed, their surroundings seemed to shine a bit. Nova's power must have been at work to protect them. He wove the power deep, modulating his voice to weave the vibrations of air into those of reality itself.
"Concept reading. Penny Balica."
He pulled up the image of Penny. It was entirely blank. Nova's eyes darkened.
"Phoebe."
He pulled up an image of Phoebe. Her image was incredibly bright, a contrast with Penny before. Lecalicus noted that the potential of her, which wasn't seen but felt, was actually lesser. Nova seemed to see it, too. Phoebe, who was on track to become a superintelligent AI, at least on par with Narvravarana, had less potential than Penny.
"Engineer Kashaunta."
And her image was blank. When it appeared, Penny's image began to blur. Figures came out from her back, thousands and then millions of humans. Each of them had a shine of potential inside. Yasihaut appeared next, then the Progenitors did. The figures broke apart as Lecalicus' power failed. Their potential was interacting in anomalous ways.
"Do you know what this means, Lecalicus?"
"It means that I'm making the right choice."
"No. Kashaunta has the potential, too. She is just like her parents."
"Parents?"
"I suppose you wouldn't know their true names, given your memory issues. Biological clones. Weapons made to fight speeding space, and adapted to the Source war later. They, with Indrafabar acting as a surrogate, made a daughter, rewriting the mind of a criminal into that of an Engineer. Kashaunta was built, Lecalicus. She wasn't born, even if she has false testimonies saying otherwise."
"Narvravarana didn't make any clones."
"Not with their full form inside them, no. And she was uniquely capable of crafting misinformation. But those clones, living weapons nearly the equal of ourselves as we stand now, did leave an enduring legacy."
"Are you referring to-"
"Yes. Dree and Deen, the Double-Edged Sword."
Next
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"General, they're mobilizing," the officer said, bowing his head to Quish. "Should we intervene?"
"It may be a trap," he replied. He had seen his fair share of those recently. The Alliance knew he was out here but couldn't hit him yet. If he moved the fleet, then it might become visible. And yet, the Alliance had also captured some stealth ships while perpetuating attacks on the networks of the ships. Phoebe likely had compromised more things than he was privy to.
"It may."
Currently, there was little of interest going on. The Alliance's shipyards around Mercury continued to be an impregnable target. Nothing he had could reach them without risking the safety of the entire fleet. The Sol Defense Fleet was only continuing to expand. Phoebe's contributions were a nearly constant stream of smaller ships from Luna and Earth. FTL suppression blanketed the entire system, and current communications were only as fast as light.
The stealth fleet was waiting above the solar plane, now roughly positioned above Mars. It had once been populated by humans, but it hadn't been re-established after the Trikkec bombed the colony out of existence. He felt that deciding not to remain on an entire planet for the sake of a quaint memorial was pointless, but obviously, the Alliance thought differently.
And it was one less point to defend, so maybe it did have some merit that way. Quish had been doing nothing but thinking and giving general orders to the fleet. Luckily, food and water supplies were still decently high. Oxygen and nitrogen storage wasn't doing as well, though. And even the smaller things, like contraception, were starting to deplete.
Trapping many people who knew each other well in one ship for a long time did things like that. Quish missed Cradle's open skies and the soothing sight of oceans and cities. He was starting to hate being cooped up here.
He also had some urge to attack the Mars monument. It was one of the few planetary locations that wasn't heavily defended. Yet he also suspected that was a trap, too. If he attacked that, the Alliance would have even more enmity toward the Republic. They could use that to pound their populace into more effective fighting stances. Pacifism was a major weakness of the Alliance, but it was becoming rarer and rarer. Few of them were arguing against stronger responses.
In addition, the Alliance had ramped up the construction of battlecruisers, battleships, and even dreadnaughts by tens of times. Mercury was almost as fortified as Earth and Luna. The Dyson swarm had a massive network of small shields covering it, making destroying enough of the nodes costly. And even when one was destroyed, ten more would replace it.
He'd have to make a move soon. So far, smaller Alliance ships were streaming into portals from Brey. The psychic attacks must have failed to reach her, then. A shame. He had a limited supply of Mind Assassins available, too. Every single attack had the highest probability of success. And yet, there was something that always went wrong. He hated it.
The officer didn't argue with him; he just sat back down at his station again. Quish was fine with that. He had his exoskeleton prop him up, then give him a small amount of drugs to heal him quicker from blisters.
"Sir, there's odd behavior around Sol."
"Show me," Quish said, his heart dropping. He had dealt with so much already.
"Well, the star released a coronal mass ejection. The thing is, that there's some strange readings near the front of it, and it appears to be... steering itself."
"So you're telling me they weaponized the star itself?" Quish said incredulously.
"Well, it's possible. Their smaller laser guided weapons have an outright insane ability to aim. That's a sign of some serious particle or quantum technology. And records show that they've had that for years. However, this coronal mass ejection itself doesn't show any signs of artificiality. It's not even aimed this way, in fact. It's just... expanding every way. Into complex shapes."
"Show me."
Quish watched the technician pull up a hologram view. The speed was slow. He could evade the initial line of detection by simple orbit. But then he saw what was happening. It was forming a giant disk. More solar particles were starting to be drawn out.
"Sir, massive energy readings from the Dyson swarm!" another technician said.
He brought Quish an image of the swarm refocusing sunlight back into three locations on the star; which each had a group of Breyyanik star lifters and a smattering of cruisers, frigates, and destroyers on guard nearby. Massive magnetic fields pulled material off- oh.
"We need to start our attack," Quish said.
"Why?" a captain asked, tuning into the network. "Can you explain the readings?"
"They're spreading out a film of solar particles to physically scan the entire Sol system. What in the God Emperor's name..."
"Sir? The fleet's mobilizing. The Alliance's dreadnaughts and battlecruisers are all leaving their docks."
"Can we get out of the disk's range before it reaches us?"
"Judging by the radial velocity and how long it would take for our own drives to-"
"Yes, or no?"
"No."
"We can't correct our shields for this sort of thing. We need to start an attack. They're ready for a standard one," Quish said. He thought long and hard about what he was about to do. If his attack was fully successful, then it was likely that the war would escalate to its maximum extreme. But there was little choice. The God Emperor had appeared in another battle, so it was time to hurry up. He made a call.
"Yes?"
"Turn the day to night."
"...Sir? I will need the God Emperor's authorization to carry out that order."
"I shall get it."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Lecalicus sat down on his chair, eating a veritable banquet of food. Simple conveniences like using psychic power to crush it all down so he could continue eating were in use, but he didn't much care.
Kashaunta, the Elder who'd been slowly gathering influence, stood before him. She clearly had some unexplained questions that she wanted to answer. He could tell by the curve of her neck and her posture that she was upset about something.
There were no guards here, as Lecalicus was powerful enough that anything that could take him on would also kill anything nearby.
"Ask away," he said.
"Will you have an exceedingly irrational and prideful response if I do?" Kashaunta spat.
"Only if your question is genuinely stupid."
"Why didn't you tell me that Twilight... imprinted herself on me?"
"I had assumed that she did not coerce you."
"Yes, we mingled, and I went willingly. However, I did not know that she was doing something extra, as well," Kashaunta said. "That is what I am concerned about. You Progenitors all trample over the rest of the galaxy without care."
"As the Sprilnav do over the rest of the galaxy."
Kashaunta sighed. "So you've been developing sympathy for the Alliance, haven't you?"
"I am uncertain. Space does have an affinity to them. Humanity is a somewhat charming species, though it is a shame that they insist on walking on two legs instead of four. It's just... so unstable.""Answer the question."
"No. However, I am altering my viewpoint, so that my pride, which is an issue I know about, will not blind me to changes in the future."
"And why is that?"
"Unless the Broken God exerts an extreme amount of energy on it, killing Penny using speeding space will likely no longer work," Lecalicus said. "So she will return. And if she does, then it is likely she will be able to tip the scales in the battle with the God Emperor."
Kashaunta sat down. She bit into a crab, tearing off its legs to place into her jaws one by one. She gave him a defiant look as if daring him to try and tell her not to. Lecalicus had seen people eat like this before, and far worse, so he didn't really care. And in this room, he didn't need to maintain perceptions.
Letting Kashaunta disrespect him a little while not turning her inside out was because he needed her. But she knew better than to push it since she wasn't stupid. Hopefully.
"Well, we will see," Kashaunta said. "Indrafabar wants me to tangle with the Big Parties. And the Status Quo party in particular."
"He's testing you."
"Yes," Lecalicus said. "That he is."
Lecalicus smiled. Kashaunta only frowned. "What?"
"He's probably in love."
"I'm not doing that crap again," she replied. "You're all crazy. And Twilight's worse this time than she should be. I thought I learned my lesson a few trillion cycles ago, but as it turns out, I hadn't."
"She is. I should be the craziest of them all, and yet I'm not. How about this, Kashaunta? I will not pretend that you will remain bound to anyone. You wish to look out for your own interests. You want what we Progenitors have, which is nearly infinite power, conceptual and societal. So what I can do is ally with you."
"You'll just use me."
"No. We'll use each other, as do all allies. I would also like to invest my resources into your defence contract company. And my offer is not exclusive. I am willing to allow you to work with Indrafabar."
"That's the problem, Lecalicus. You said 'allow,' as if you wouldn't give me a choice otherwise."
"I am a Progenitor, flawed though I may be," Lecalicus replied. "What do you need me to do?"
"Tell me how to become immune to mind control." Kashaunta's eyes held a hungry, almost desperate look. The loss of self-autonomy around Progenitors that many Sprilnav had was clearly something she loathed. But it was also why essentially all Elders were still alive after interacting with them.
Kashaunta herself toed a fine line. She could only get away with more than the other Elders because of her position. But even that had limits. Lecalicus wondered how many other Elders would try to use the secret if it was found out. If he told her, she could sell the process to the highest bidder, which would eventually result in it spreading. Lecalicus knew several ways to break mind control.
One of them was digital uploads. But that meant being killed in many places since AI wasn't accepted widely. Indrafabar was the only one in that scenario which was tolerated, and only because he was still mostly biological, as much as a Progenitor could be considered to be.
Another way of resistance was extensive implant connections or psychic fortifications. If Kashaunta started up the amplifiers Lecalicus knew of around her home base, she could mentally resist him for a long time. Of course, that didn't stop him from going in and either killing her or disabling the amplifiers with extreme force.
But there was a third way, which Kashaunta alone could use due to Twilight's mark and her own unique properties. Lecalicus crossed his claws, placing them on the table. He leaned forward slightly and projected a field of total and complete electromagnetic interference. Sound, light, and noise disappeared. Two small lights activated on Kashaunta's jaws.
They shined back into Lecalicus' eyes, reflecting on her or the blackness surrounding them. Kashaunta bit loudly into the crab to ease the tension of the moment. It was also an attempted show of disinterest in power plays, but Progenitors were power incarnate, so he didn't even need to glorify that with a response. He vibrated psychic energy in front of his mouth.
"It is simple. You need to coalesce your conceptual power and fortify your body's concept with it."
"That doesn't sound simple," Kashaunta laughed.
"Maybe it isn't. However, you do have significant stores of psychic energy. While you cannot become a Progenitor, and do have some conceptual energy that is unusuable, you can still use some. Specifically, there is energy in the moniker of Engineer."
"What about conceptual recursion?"
"I'm evidence that it isn't as strong as once thought," Lecalicus said.
"Yes. Beast, of course."
"Please don't be rude, Kashaunta. I am being kind and genuine here, and giving you information for free."
It was a name Lecalicus had earned but also one he hated. Being reduced to a beast was something he could barely stand. Sometimes, he'd massacred whole rooms for saying that. But he was different now. He'd still kill people if it was necessary but would try not to do it on a whim. It would be easier to gain passive influence that way and to entice people disillusioned with other Progenitors but still grasping for a higher power to work with or for him.
It was the same thing he was doing with Kashaunta. Offering a massive boon or other token of goodwill. Something rare and incredibly treasured. Sprilnav mind control resistance was a massive black market at the highest levels. Indrafabar kept all those 'remedies' from really working, though.Kashaunta, assuming that the Alliance didn't kill her, would live for at least trillions of years based on the conceptual power of Elders combined with genetic engineering alone. Immortality meant that control over one's life was perhaps the most valuable thing anyone could have. Lecalicus knew that well.
"It is not free. You are aware that this is a massive boon, one on par with giving me conceptual energy, a mind bridge, or working old technology."
"Mind bridges are not that valuable."
"With a Progenitor, they are. You're giving things that have not been given in eons, completely casually. You're not insane anymore, and know what you are doing. You intend to forge an alliance with me, and to help to overthrow the natural order."
"There is no natural order. Nature ends where civilization begins. I am the pinnacle of civilization. Civilized barbarity, the strong and rich ruling the weak and poor. This is life. Nature is dead, and it was dead long before the Sprilnav walked out of our first riverside caves. And it only can thrive where it remains undiscovered, untamed. The civilized species tame all that can be tamed, and would shackle the very stars and mountains if it would net them a scrape of higher profit."
"Riverside caves?" Kashaunta asked.
Lecalicus cast his mind back to the old times. The memories were hazy in the extreme. Even with conceptual power, their sheer age made it difficult for him to remember. He'd figured out long ago that it was because the conceptual reality of the Source war had altered the course of the universe.In addition, his age was so extreme that everything else he knew was basically younger than him. He wasn't even made of any of his old cells; they were all modified, dead, or destroyed. Lecalicus had died long ago. A different mind wore his body.
He pushed past the painful memories. Without Space here, dwelling on it too long would push him back into mindless rage.
"When the Sp'rkial'nova, or rather their older predecessor species, was first coming to civilization, we were half aquatic. Now, genetic modifications have removed that, lowering water costs across society. Those changes likely also saved the species as a whole in the madness following the Source war."
"Older species?"
"Yes. We had many names throughout time. The first of them is a name that this universe no longer deserves to be graced by."
"Why?"
"Because the dreams are dead. Before the Source war, there were discussions of hope. We were ascendant. We were being led into true utopia. And now, there are a scant few galaxies even I can safely visit. The void is old, and it is cold."
"Didn't Entropy still exist?"
"She was weaker then. Time and Luck have told me that I'm the one that has caused the most problems. That I go insane and destroy things that hold up the entire universe. And the reason for that, fundamentally, is simple. It is the same reason that so many Elders are insane. The weight of our loss against the Source is so strong that it breaks us down."
Kashaunta's expression turned somber. For a while, they sat and thought. And then Lecalicus spoke again.
"As I am, I am a shadow of my former self. There is no hope left for the Sprilnav. Sooner or later, we will lose. It doesn't matter how, but we will. Whether another Zelisloa comes along and makes the hivemind try and kill us all mercilessly, or whether infighting or arms races destroy us, it will happen no matter what. The universe is too small for progress now. No more experiments with false vacuum weapons, no more forays into dimensional gate technology.
We are scared to open doors for fear of what lies beyond them, when before, we knew we could fight them. And in the beginning, we were one of the first. There was no galactic dynasty to overthrow when we first started. The name Precursor that the rest of the galaxy gives us does not even begin to give us our true scope. We were first. If not the first ever, then we were among the first generation of living species.
An experiment of life, at a time when everything was new. Even the philosophers and scientists who dabbled in universal and conceptual theory, all of whom are dead now, thought that there were people who created us, and made everything. We were looking for them. Instead, we found other species. Only our First Contact was after we'd taken over nearly half a million proto-galaxies. Narvravarana promised us unlimited energy. Instead, we have this. This... uselessness.
Indrafabar owns so much because he's the only one who cares about trying to scrape together a few pebbles compared to the mountains we had before. Humanity is likely the reason I have not gone back to sleep yet to wait until I am brave enough to go and die, in this dead universe bereft of hope."
Kashaunta remained silent.
"Yes, I am very, very old."
"Not just old," Kashaunta said. "You're... from the First World. The First Age of Colonization, before every Elder ever existed."
"Yes."
"Lecalicus... I... I did not know." It looked like she was struggling not to pledge herself to him right there. It made sense, given the sheer prestige given to those from the First World. Of course, that was just an exonym. Technically, the First World was called Ground.
"Few do; I see to it."
"But the influence alone-"
"Would see the other Progenitors gang up to eliminate me. Indrafabar is not the strongest in conceptual power, but is in societal and economic might. If I were to use my background to prove I was from the First World, it would be a monumental shift in politics. Most notably, because only Nova can claim to be more powerful than me currently."
"So will you team up with Indrafabar?"
"I will determine how this iteration of him acts. If he is sensible, then yes. However, I will be cautious, as you should be of both of us."
"I know that well," Kashaunta said. "Does Indrafabar truly love me?"
"I suspect it, though he will be hard to manipulate, no matter how hard you clench."
Kashaunta made a disgusted face. "We're eating."
"The bathroom's down the hall, if you really are that squeamish. Though considering the events of Saittil Four, I doubt that."
"They had made that personal," Kashaunta said defensively. "Do not judge me; you have bathed in the blood of entire species."
"Yes. And I am not judging you. Kashaunta, I just wish things were not so difficult."
"Lecalicus, you don't need to pretend to care about me. I know you only care for yourself and Space."
He bowed his head. It seemed she'd forgotten or put aside her reverence quickly. "Then I am sorry you feel that way. I am sorry that all I am to you is a soulless monster."
"You are a monster, and your soul is thick and stained with blood, Lecalicus," Kashaunta said.
Softly, she added, "Perhaps all of us are. Before the Source war, there was so much hope... so much happiness. True utopia. And now, all that is gone. It would take a miracle to make me feel as happy as I did in those days. Back when the Progenitors were wise leaders, and us Elders were not half-mad with grief."
She looked at the meal in front of her, which he'd paid for to attempt to make her feel like he cared. It was clear he was having an effect on her. Her harsh posture was softening.
Lecalicus did his best to push away his pride as he continued to talk.
"Kashaunta, I apologize for what I may have done in the past for you. But honestly, I am having this meeting with you because I can see the way things are going. The galaxy hates us, as does the Alliance. They would laugh as they slaughter our children. So far, all that has stopped them is vigilant protection of any Sprilnav trade secrets. But they are advancing. Faster than before. Old civilizations make vaults, and when they are purged, new ones unlock them. We are already in crisis."
"You think the Alliance is a true threat?"
"Not the Alliance, but its ideals. Hivemind sightings are rising on fringe Sprilnav colonies, coupled with increases in civil unrest. Corporations and governments in our society teeter on the edge. Indrafabar is the knife, the rest of us are the chasm. Phoebe will attack the Collective again with Edu'frec, and will likely attempt to wipe them all out. Sharing any information with them is a massive risk, for many reasons, but if they destroy the Collective, they also destroy the combined ancestral memories of nearly a thousand galaxies."
"We haven't done anything major to them."
"But Zelisloa did," Lecalicus replied. "The Reaper virus damaged our image irreparably to the Alliance. Far-off genocides are one thing. It's easy to decry wars when you're not in one. But when they occur in your home? Opinions swing. Zelisloa brought the true terror of extinction to the Alliance. It will cause hundreds of thousands of additional casualties among the Sevvi. Maybe billions, based on recent events above Skandikan.
More species hate us totally. And if they had the power to take our position and be us, many of them would happily rebel and do so. A war with the entire galaxy, while it would be decisive, would still mean millions of destroyed planets. Many nations already aim their planet crackers all at one or two of our planets to attempt to intimidate us.
The Alliance will go to war with us when they think they're strong enough. I don't know everything they have in their arsenal, which is expanding at a rapid pace. And I want you to present a front to change the Sprilnav and the Alliance. Steer us away from war, so we will be ready for speeding space when the true war arrives."
"That's treason," Kashaunta replied.
"My dear Kashaunta," Lecalicus said. "I wrote the law on treason. With my backing, there can be no question."
Kashaunta sighed. "They're experimenting with nanites and zero-point energy drawing. They've already mastered the ability to use quantum effects to aim lasers. I only know from raiding Yasihaut's spy complexes. There's a huge mess of politics woven into this. There are over a hundred civil wars, economic wars, propaganda organizations, and more raging. Supercomputers compete to sway public opinion, and silent spies worm their way into secure spaces.
Even by touching this, I was the target of thirty assassins over the past few months. So far, my intelligence has identified no less than four hundred high-level assassinations of Elders due to the ongoing fight over what to do with the Alliance. Nearly ten thousand ships have been destroyed in attempts to destroy the Alliance, Cawlarians, or Vinarii. Not to mention my own battles and the Grand Fleets moving.
Yasihaut isn't alone. She has a massive web of support for a fascinating breadth of reasons. If I went on the warpath again to get to her, it would require millions of deaths and extreme amounts of risk and money. I ran some surveys and simulations. Sprilnav society is separating into factions, all because of the Alliance. Progenitors are involved, too. I don't know which ones. You'll need to get involved for me to be able to move properly. I have no clue where you've been all this time."
"You still can't deal with her, can you?"
Kashaunta snarled with anger.
"You can, quite easily. Just appear in front of her and rip her apart. You can fix almost all our problems if you actually got out and tried. You talk, but do not do. You Progenitors, concepts, and all the rest are cowards, unwilling to bet your own lives by defying others."
"You have a strange idea of cowardice, Elder Kashaunta. May I remind you that you have not attended any Party meetings with other Elders of your level without using holograms in over a thousand years?"
"Prudence is not cowardice, Lecalicus. I would not call you a coward for refusing to dive into a black hole. That is, unless you constantly moan about how no one's exploring them."
"This is not hard to understand, Kashaunta. The timeline would reset. Sadly Yasihaut's become a major player, even if all she does is yap about how evil the Alliance is."
"Can we find a way to start the war early then, and limit it? If we can get Penny back, she can kill Yasihaut now. If not for those stupid Grand Fleet admirals protecting her, I would already have done so. None of the assassins are managing to reach her, which is making me wonder whether other Progenitors aren't being as genuine as you with their cowardice."
She really was pushing it. Lecalicus almost split her down the middle. For a not-so-brief moment, he imagined just taking her and shoving her head into a star's photosphere.
Kashaunta stood and moved back, feeling his psychic energy rising in anger. Lecalicus clamped down on it, pressing his thoughts back down. He missed Space.
"Maybe. It is likely that other conversations will need to be had before we can agree on anything," Lecalicus replied. "But I must know. Can I count on you? As an ally in the upcoming fronts of war?"
Kashaunta smiled. "Yes. We can be allies. Personally, I hope you don't want to betray me. And please stop thinking of ways you can violate me."
"I don't. And all I was doing was thinking of shoving you into a star for constantly insulting me."
"You do see how that's worse, right?" Kashaunta hedged. "That's not exactly a good indicator of friendship."
"Do you want me to give you what you want, or not?"
"No threats?"
"I don't need to threaten you," Lecalicus sighed. "If I wanted to make you truly get scared of me, I'd break one of your legs and eat it. Or perhaps just put one of those radiation generator torture machines in here."
"You're still not too far from insanity, are you?"
"I guess not. But no one who lived through the war is."
"Fair. Now, can you show me how you do this body reinforcing thing you talk about? Show me, don't do it to me. I still don't want anyone messing with me."
"Understandable. And yes, I will help you. By the way, are you still going to attempt to build your special VI to combat Phoebe and Edu'frec's continual march toward technological parity?"
"My VI is entirely ordinary, and is not capable of anything of the sort," Kashaunta deadpanned.
"Sure, sure. Alright. Rule number one of being in an alliance with me. Don't insult me without reason."
"There's many reasons to insult you, though."
"Rule number two," Lecalicus said, teleporting himself to her. "Don't insult me without reason. Got it?"
"Yes, Progenitor. No telling you your breath stinks."
"Elder Kashaunta, do you even have any friends?"
"Do you?"
"Yes. Now. There is no need to be infuriating. Just actually try to keep yourself alive."
"It's fun to tease you."
"It would stop being fun quite quickly. So. The Alliance's matters are less important than directly countering Twilight, Indrafabar, Nova, and Yasihaut. We also need to increase your production of speeding space entity extermination weapons. And finally, we need to teach you how to be a good person."
"You've killed trillions of people."
"Nuh uh. Only a few hundred billion, if you count deaths directly by my claws."
"You destroyed an entire planet of innocents because their leader called you a beast."
"Funny how that happened, isn't it? It's almost like I don't like it when Elders think they can treat me like trash and have no consequences. Especially when they think they're far more valuable to me defiant and angry than implanted with loyalty stimulators. I'm trying to be a better person. But as you've pointed out, killing you won't make me any worse.
You won't live forever if you keep talking to Progenitors like you do. Oh, and by the way, even being able to talk to them like this will make them kill you, so you don't spread the secret of how you avoided direct mental control. Simply put, you need to get back on your leash."
"You are very sensitive."
Lecalicus sighed. "Alright. You asked for it."
He kicked her. Lightly, of course, so he wouldn't kill her. He passively watched as he tied his record for the most walls he'd kicked a live Elder through. She ended her journey by falling out of a skyscraper and crashing through the side of a pyramid.
Technically, it was still a wall. He would wait for the news crews to arrive before humiliating her. Given her personality, she'd be upset but unlikely to push him this far again. And since he was far above her, she couldn't even touch him. Maybe next time, she'd learn some manners. He heard his name.
Lecalicus pinpointed the conceptual thread and saw Nova on the other side. He stepped through it.
"What do you want, Nova?"
"I see you're entering the fray, Lecalicus. Are you ready to see what lies within?"
"What do you want?"
"I want to give you a warning. Do not aid the Alliance."
"You seem afraid, Nova," Lecalicus smiled.
"Not at all. I want to tell you that you are not ready."
"It was the meeting, wasn't it?" he asked. "What Penny caused."
"No. This is a warning for you. And a request."
Lecalicus started to think. He thought about deep things. Concepts came to mind. He looked at Nova, his tail slapping against the ground, carving a dent in the metal.
"I see."
He lifted a single claw, placing it between Nova and himself. Conceptual power exploded outward, wrapping him in light hot and bright enough to burn metal. And indeed, their surroundings seemed to shine a bit. Nova's power must have been at work to protect them. He wove the power deep, modulating his voice to weave the vibrations of air into those of reality itself.
"Concept reading. Penny Balica."
He pulled up the image of Penny. It was entirely blank. Nova's eyes darkened.
"Phoebe."
He pulled up an image of Phoebe. Her image was incredibly bright, a contrast with Penny before. Lecalicus noted that the potential of her, which wasn't seen but felt, was actually lesser. Nova seemed to see it, too. Phoebe, who was on track to become a superintelligent AI, at least on par with Narvravarana, had less potential than Penny.
"Engineer Kashaunta."
And her image was blank. When it appeared, Penny's image began to blur. Figures came out from her back, thousands and then millions of humans. Each of them had a shine of potential inside. Yasihaut appeared next, then the Progenitors did. The figures broke apart as Lecalicus' power failed. Their potential was interacting in anomalous ways.
"Do you know what this means, Lecalicus?"
"It means that I'm making the right choice."
"No. Kashaunta has the potential, too. She is just like her parents."
"Parents?"
"I suppose you wouldn't know their true names, given your memory issues. Biological clones. Weapons made to fight speeding space, and adapted to the Source war later. They, with Indrafabar acting as a surrogate, made a daughter, rewriting the mind of a criminal into that of an Engineer. Kashaunta was built, Lecalicus. She wasn't born, even if she has false testimonies saying otherwise."
"Narvravarana didn't make any clones."
"Not with their full form inside them, no. And she was uniquely capable of crafting misinformation. But those clones, living weapons nearly the equal of ourselves as we stand now, did leave an enduring legacy."
"Are you referring to-"
"Yes. Dree and Deen, the Double-Edged Sword."
Next
2023.10.24 15:15 OwnDemise Captains Log: Journey to the split sectors.
The engines were already spooling up as we teleported aboard the ship.
The Osaka still had that new car smell, all the floors were still stainless, the walls without dents and there was a faint smell of drying paint. You could immediately tell that her captain was right about his crew - they really were eager to prove themselves and to avenge our fallen brothers. By the time we took the elevator to the bridge, we had already left segaris and were heading north towards the contested split territories. The door slided open with a slight whirr and we stepped out, right onto the bridge. It's been a while since I've served on an Osaka since I spend most of my time in the office, in the shuttle or on larger ships.
That's why I was a little surprised at first to immediately look at the operational stations when we got out of the elevator. I was expecting a hallway or at least someone to announce us. A "captain on the bridge." or some other reaction. But the entire crew seemed busy monitoring the ship's systems. I tried to get an overview and was able to see at least some of the crew members, but a large structural pylon right in the middle of the bridge blocked my view - both to the front and to the rest of the squad. This made the bridge feel a bit cramped at first, but I knew that the Terran engineers preferred stability over anything else. This started with the shields and continued under the hull. With such reinforcements, the ship would be able to hold out for quite a while even without shields. If I wanted to enjoy the view I would have to get a luxury yacht. Maybe once we have established a proper foothold and after we have made a name for ourselves.
I looked to the side and took a quick look at the young captain. 'Daisuke Goto' was written on his name tag on his blue uniform. He looked to be in his early, maybe mid-twenties and obviously had Asian roots. Not that it really matters. Since the discovery of jump gates and the colonization of the solar system, nations and nationalities became increasingly less important. We were all Terrans, and the only division that really mattered these days was whether someone was born in the solar system or not. That's why our brothers in the south, the Segaris pioneers, had limited access to our best technology and even for emerging companies like mine there were certain barriers to entry. To me that seemed only good and right - the safety of the earth was rightly our top priority and it was indescribably important to protect our roots. If necessary, also from ourselves. Because what used to be nationalities has now been replaced by large corporations. Amazon, Google, the remainder of SpaceX, some of the world's largest banks, even food or supply groups like Nestlé or Unilever - pretty much every larger group across the globe had somehow managed to make their way into orbit. Some stayed there, others rebranded into well-known names like Beryll or Plutarch. And that's where the trouble started. While some were content to resort to piracy or trade in forbidden technology, other groups such as the Yaki or even the Argon Colonists simply accepted the possible and complete annihilation of our shared home, the Earth - just to protect their own interests or to pursue some weird ambitions of independence or following false leaders into their doom. We definitely had to be careful whom we trusted with our secrets.
While I was lost in my thoughts, Goto had already advanced to the helm and was overseeing our hasty departure. If Funfi had not made any changes to our processes we were flying with our default configuration. Argonian plasma cannons due to their longer range compared to our terran bolt-repeaters and anti-aircraft guns due to their massively increased weapon performance. In fact, I had been relying on the Argon tech for some time. The engines may not be as well rounded as our tried and trusted Terran systems, but the significantly increased cruising speed was well worth the risk - at least for ships that changed sectors more frequently and as such had to overcome greater distances. In the sectors we usually patrolled, there was a certain level of trust between us and our allies, so wo could usually travel without interceptions or controls by the faction police. Even relations with Antigone began to ease again after one of our diplomats performed a few minor favors for our neighbors and we were granted docking rights again. The traders sorted out the rest among themselves.
"Calculations complete." reported the navigation officer. I had to hold on to the control console as the afterburners ignited and catapulted the ship to cruising speed. The inertial dampers prevented the worst, but one truth has remained unchanged since the early days of aviation: humans cannot tolerate high acceleration forces. And right now, the Argon high-performance engines were accelerating us at nearly 4G, well beyond the cruising speed the Terran engineers had intended. The spectacle lasted almost a minute and a half and I was admittedly amazed that not a single crew member even wavered. It seemed that our training methods were actually good for something.
Now we are hurtling through the orbit of Antigone Memorial at just over 3 kilometers per second. This was significantly slower than the probes at the beginning of our space age and even the debris of the torus moved through Earth's orbit almost twice as fast. But as long as the engines ensured that we didn't crash into the planet I was fine with the slower speed. After all it also meant less strain on material and crew.
I rarely find time to inspect our sectors and monitor the progress of construction work. For a moment I'm tempted to order Goto to fly a little slower to get a better look at our construction sites, but then I remember our mission and decide to postpone the sightseeing tour. "Well done." I comment on Goto's flying skills as we are about to leave the sector and the engines activate reverse thrust. Terran doctrine dictates some rules of flight. And he strictly follows every single one. Stopping in front of every gates is certainly not the fastest way to travel, but I respect its adherence to the rules. If we were to travel with an escort, the procedure would be much more complicated and slower, but fortunately we were spared that today.
Just a single destroyer with a single goal in mind: to make a statement.
I close my eyes and sigh. It has been a long day and I severely need to take a rest, possibly reach out to Funfi and to check in with the remainders of our battlegroup. "Notify me when we reach the Hatikvah space. I need to rest for a moment and check in on a few things." I order Goto. He nods and salutes. "Understood. I will notify you when we reach the sector, sir." He turns to one of his officers "Give the CEO access to my cabin." He nods at me and it's the first time I've seen him smile.
Once in the cabin, I am pleased with the luxurious furnishings: We are still talking about military equipment, but after today, even a simple bed made of straw would seem like a four-poster bed to me. So I sit down on one of the anchored swivel chairs and can now at least sit while enduring the acceleration forces. Despite years of training, I've never really come to terms with them. One of the main reasons why I didn't become a fighter pilot.
I close my eyes and think. If we really make it to the Split sectors in time, our Osaka could hardly stop a major Xenon advance. The ship simply wasn't built for that. It was too slow and lacked firepower. As a ship of the line with three sister ships it might have looked different, but we were alone. So how could we help the split? A few attacking fighters wouldn't be a problem, but what if we encountered a K? Once we came under fighter fire, we wouldn't be able to escape it, and I had serious doubts that our firepower would be enough to destroy such a monster in time before it got into position and its graviton guns would blow us to pieces. But we had no choice. We had to try it. Get up and carry on. We couldn't let setbacks discourage us. I couldn't let setbacks discourage me. Otherwise this would be the certain end of our family legacy.
But wait, Goto said something about 'permission to upgrade'. We would have to go to a shipyard to do this, but if we gave the ship a few tuning measures we could at least stand a chance. Initially, however, the Split's civilians had priority. If the Xenon were already firing at the equipment dock, that meant the Split had neither defense stations nor enough ships nearby. So not only were we on our own, but we might also be the only hope for these aliens.
The intercom crackled "Sir. Funfi reports that the battlegroup has destroyed the last Xenon fortifications. They are now approaching the main Hive." I tilted my head to the side and thought for a moment. This was somewhat good news for a change. There was still a risk that the Xenon shipyard would spit out a K or even an I in its death throes, but if our fleet couldn't handle that, we would need other ships. I was now prepared to accept losses. "Copy that. Tell Funfi to reinforce the battlegroup. At least another destroyer and two fighter wings." "Sir, yes, sir!" came the short answer, then everything went quiet again. The captain's cabin was surprisingly well insulated. None of the usual noise from the life support systems, even the roar of the gigantic engines was just a quiet noise here. Enough for you to notice the travel mode but still quiet enough to think. Some music would be nice, maybe Jazz. I smirk as I follow that thought for a moment and remember an old tune from my days back on earth. It was gentle, soothing.
For the first time in days I felt like I could relax a little. I sat in that chair with my eyes closed and breathed. Even the strain of the repeated maneuvers faded for a moment. I can't tell you how long I sat there when Goto came on the intercom again. "We have reached the sector." I nodded to myself, stood up, adjusted my uniform and made my way to the elevator.
If we ventured through the xenon sector we could get there in time.
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The Osaka still had that new car smell, all the floors were still stainless, the walls without dents and there was a faint smell of drying paint. You could immediately tell that her captain was right about his crew - they really were eager to prove themselves and to avenge our fallen brothers. By the time we took the elevator to the bridge, we had already left segaris and were heading north towards the contested split territories. The door slided open with a slight whirr and we stepped out, right onto the bridge. It's been a while since I've served on an Osaka since I spend most of my time in the office, in the shuttle or on larger ships.
That's why I was a little surprised at first to immediately look at the operational stations when we got out of the elevator. I was expecting a hallway or at least someone to announce us. A "captain on the bridge." or some other reaction. But the entire crew seemed busy monitoring the ship's systems. I tried to get an overview and was able to see at least some of the crew members, but a large structural pylon right in the middle of the bridge blocked my view - both to the front and to the rest of the squad. This made the bridge feel a bit cramped at first, but I knew that the Terran engineers preferred stability over anything else. This started with the shields and continued under the hull. With such reinforcements, the ship would be able to hold out for quite a while even without shields. If I wanted to enjoy the view I would have to get a luxury yacht. Maybe once we have established a proper foothold and after we have made a name for ourselves.
I looked to the side and took a quick look at the young captain. 'Daisuke Goto' was written on his name tag on his blue uniform. He looked to be in his early, maybe mid-twenties and obviously had Asian roots. Not that it really matters. Since the discovery of jump gates and the colonization of the solar system, nations and nationalities became increasingly less important. We were all Terrans, and the only division that really mattered these days was whether someone was born in the solar system or not. That's why our brothers in the south, the Segaris pioneers, had limited access to our best technology and even for emerging companies like mine there were certain barriers to entry. To me that seemed only good and right - the safety of the earth was rightly our top priority and it was indescribably important to protect our roots. If necessary, also from ourselves. Because what used to be nationalities has now been replaced by large corporations. Amazon, Google, the remainder of SpaceX, some of the world's largest banks, even food or supply groups like Nestlé or Unilever - pretty much every larger group across the globe had somehow managed to make their way into orbit. Some stayed there, others rebranded into well-known names like Beryll or Plutarch. And that's where the trouble started. While some were content to resort to piracy or trade in forbidden technology, other groups such as the Yaki or even the Argon Colonists simply accepted the possible and complete annihilation of our shared home, the Earth - just to protect their own interests or to pursue some weird ambitions of independence or following false leaders into their doom. We definitely had to be careful whom we trusted with our secrets.
While I was lost in my thoughts, Goto had already advanced to the helm and was overseeing our hasty departure. If Funfi had not made any changes to our processes we were flying with our default configuration. Argonian plasma cannons due to their longer range compared to our terran bolt-repeaters and anti-aircraft guns due to their massively increased weapon performance. In fact, I had been relying on the Argon tech for some time. The engines may not be as well rounded as our tried and trusted Terran systems, but the significantly increased cruising speed was well worth the risk - at least for ships that changed sectors more frequently and as such had to overcome greater distances. In the sectors we usually patrolled, there was a certain level of trust between us and our allies, so wo could usually travel without interceptions or controls by the faction police. Even relations with Antigone began to ease again after one of our diplomats performed a few minor favors for our neighbors and we were granted docking rights again. The traders sorted out the rest among themselves.
"Calculations complete." reported the navigation officer. I had to hold on to the control console as the afterburners ignited and catapulted the ship to cruising speed. The inertial dampers prevented the worst, but one truth has remained unchanged since the early days of aviation: humans cannot tolerate high acceleration forces. And right now, the Argon high-performance engines were accelerating us at nearly 4G, well beyond the cruising speed the Terran engineers had intended. The spectacle lasted almost a minute and a half and I was admittedly amazed that not a single crew member even wavered. It seemed that our training methods were actually good for something.
Now we are hurtling through the orbit of Antigone Memorial at just over 3 kilometers per second. This was significantly slower than the probes at the beginning of our space age and even the debris of the torus moved through Earth's orbit almost twice as fast. But as long as the engines ensured that we didn't crash into the planet I was fine with the slower speed. After all it also meant less strain on material and crew.
I rarely find time to inspect our sectors and monitor the progress of construction work. For a moment I'm tempted to order Goto to fly a little slower to get a better look at our construction sites, but then I remember our mission and decide to postpone the sightseeing tour. "Well done." I comment on Goto's flying skills as we are about to leave the sector and the engines activate reverse thrust. Terran doctrine dictates some rules of flight. And he strictly follows every single one. Stopping in front of every gates is certainly not the fastest way to travel, but I respect its adherence to the rules. If we were to travel with an escort, the procedure would be much more complicated and slower, but fortunately we were spared that today.
Just a single destroyer with a single goal in mind: to make a statement.
I close my eyes and sigh. It has been a long day and I severely need to take a rest, possibly reach out to Funfi and to check in with the remainders of our battlegroup. "Notify me when we reach the Hatikvah space. I need to rest for a moment and check in on a few things." I order Goto. He nods and salutes. "Understood. I will notify you when we reach the sector, sir." He turns to one of his officers "Give the CEO access to my cabin." He nods at me and it's the first time I've seen him smile.
Once in the cabin, I am pleased with the luxurious furnishings: We are still talking about military equipment, but after today, even a simple bed made of straw would seem like a four-poster bed to me. So I sit down on one of the anchored swivel chairs and can now at least sit while enduring the acceleration forces. Despite years of training, I've never really come to terms with them. One of the main reasons why I didn't become a fighter pilot.
I close my eyes and think. If we really make it to the Split sectors in time, our Osaka could hardly stop a major Xenon advance. The ship simply wasn't built for that. It was too slow and lacked firepower. As a ship of the line with three sister ships it might have looked different, but we were alone. So how could we help the split? A few attacking fighters wouldn't be a problem, but what if we encountered a K? Once we came under fighter fire, we wouldn't be able to escape it, and I had serious doubts that our firepower would be enough to destroy such a monster in time before it got into position and its graviton guns would blow us to pieces. But we had no choice. We had to try it. Get up and carry on. We couldn't let setbacks discourage us. I couldn't let setbacks discourage me. Otherwise this would be the certain end of our family legacy.
But wait, Goto said something about 'permission to upgrade'. We would have to go to a shipyard to do this, but if we gave the ship a few tuning measures we could at least stand a chance. Initially, however, the Split's civilians had priority. If the Xenon were already firing at the equipment dock, that meant the Split had neither defense stations nor enough ships nearby. So not only were we on our own, but we might also be the only hope for these aliens.
The intercom crackled "Sir. Funfi reports that the battlegroup has destroyed the last Xenon fortifications. They are now approaching the main Hive." I tilted my head to the side and thought for a moment. This was somewhat good news for a change. There was still a risk that the Xenon shipyard would spit out a K or even an I in its death throes, but if our fleet couldn't handle that, we would need other ships. I was now prepared to accept losses. "Copy that. Tell Funfi to reinforce the battlegroup. At least another destroyer and two fighter wings." "Sir, yes, sir!" came the short answer, then everything went quiet again. The captain's cabin was surprisingly well insulated. None of the usual noise from the life support systems, even the roar of the gigantic engines was just a quiet noise here. Enough for you to notice the travel mode but still quiet enough to think. Some music would be nice, maybe Jazz. I smirk as I follow that thought for a moment and remember an old tune from my days back on earth. It was gentle, soothing.
For the first time in days I felt like I could relax a little. I sat in that chair with my eyes closed and breathed. Even the strain of the repeated maneuvers faded for a moment. I can't tell you how long I sat there when Goto came on the intercom again. "We have reached the sector." I nodded to myself, stood up, adjusted my uniform and made my way to the elevator.
If we ventured through the xenon sector we could get there in time.
2023.10.14 03:04 MyNameMeansBentNose Lonely Souls: Chapter 25
It was as much there as it wasn’t.
And simply being near it tore at his mind.
NerKeraTor smashed the invader with a fireball almost as big as himself. The KoTry lookalike, the thing, shouted more in his mind than in his ears as it dissolved amidst the heat and the weight of the attack. One more down, countless more pushing towards him.
He blasted air through his hood while sucking down big gulps of fresh air.
NerKeraTor staggered backwards with pain, fatigue and numbing fear
The next screaming monstrosity he filled full of telekinetically launched debris, only to throw a second round of projectiles when the first missed the target he needed to hit. The locus of the creature shattered and it too screamed its pain and rage directly into NerKeraTor’s faltering mind.
Another fell to the kinetically charged spear of his friend TalTarKen, only for two more of the things to grab onto TalTarKen. They sunk their claws into him and dragged. The purple scaled spacer’s body slumped to the floor as a psionic imprint of him floated in the area his body had vacated.
The ghost of TalTarKen turned to NerKeraTor and lunged
A roiling flamethrower of the deepest possible black ripped through TalTarKen and the two that had ripped the ghost free of TalTarKen’s body. The void, the corrosion, the pure mental destruction expanded, wiping out more of the ghosts.
Bereft of strength, crushed by the losses of so many he’d known, NerKeraTor could only watch as the corrosion expanded further and further, approaching him without slowing while he could only watch.
Closer, closer, until.
Nothing.
Where he floated.
Alone.
Small, weak, and alone.
But… safe? He was alive?
[NerKeraTor!]
He groaned with pain and confusion. He didn’t know where he was at first, the area around him felt unfamiliar and completely empty of memory and emotion. A questing hand found a soft and familiar texture. A cushion that felt identical to one he knew, and yet felt completely different. His other hand found the shell of a locus around him.
Pushing his mind out told him he was still in the same concentration locus as before, but the old imprints of the VacTrek KanTern were all but gone.
Still, he was alive.
A memory of his youth, but with a new twist. That’s what he’d just seen.
[Warmind NerKeraTor?]
The bridge was calling him.
Attempting to shake the confusion from his mind, NerKeraTor responded. [I am here, what has happened?]
He didn’t quite know how to feel when they told him.
Astonishment would have to do.
[Your Prince is disabled and defenseless. Stand down,] Enterprise declared.
And they did.
The Prince was more than just a Prince. He was a link. A link in a long chain of royalty not chosen for imagined divine mandate. For as long as the KoTry remembered, one royal and one civilian of the most powerful blood. Their royal line was that of careful bloodline matching, to make them the most powerful individuals, to ensure they were worthy of their duty. To ensure they remained a part of the KoTry people.
KetelTin hadn't wanted that duty. Third only because he refused to accept his mantle, the refusal remained all but a moot point. He was the best, the strongest, the most worthy.
He could not be lost.
ParsTinKut was injured and down, her ship swarmed by scattered autonomous drones. NerKeraTor was disabled and down, caught in the same blast of psi-corrosion that had removed the Prince from the battle.
The order came from the oldest warmind, TerKenTo. The KoTry stood down.
Understanding what had happened, the Sheosayl stood down immediately.
Benedict, The General Artificial Intelligence of the rescue fleet, observed the cessation and the Human fleet stood down as well.
Then the Prince had come forth, and done something he’d never considered doing before. He asked the Humans what they wanted.
[We want peace,] they’d told the Prince.
KetelTin’s hood shrunk and his tail curled as he replied. [Then it shall be granted.]
Of the roughly one thousand ships that had joined battle in this space, less than half were still intact, and only half again were fully functional.
The refugee Sheodayl, judged too ineffective to help, had already been evacuated along with the converted Far Horizons when the battle had continued to escalate.
Now, the remaining fleets floated in space, the only activity was the saving of the injured and at risk, and the slow recovery of the dead.
At the center of those fleets, on a grand stone disk connecting the prow of the massive VacTrek KanTern and the tiny Enterprise, stood the leaders of the factions.
The stone was by no means fancy, made of the same orange stone that most KoTry ships consisted of. No crystal or metal ornamentation dressed up the surface, and no furniture or feature marred the perfect stone disk.
Here, history was being made.
She'd been on her way to becoming a melder. One who molded and shaped materials.
Now she joined minds, so the Matrons gave her a new designation.
[Very interesting,] Admiral Haijen sent as he joined the forming circle of delegates. With the help of Eless, he took his time experiencing the sensation of thoughts in compressed pulses. Of imprints fused into materials. Of the scratching noise of powerful minds pushing against each other with protective shells.
They waited now, for two of the recovering warminds of the KoTry, and the third Grand Matron of the Sheosayl.
[He looks far different now,] Haijen commented idly, [When seen this way I mean.]
Eless felt the direction of the Admiral's attention and snuck a look of her own.
KetelTin BarsKlan looked equal parts pristine and haggard. His scales and amour both remained immaculate, but he stood slumped, with little strength in his posture. Worse, his aura radiated unease and doubt.
She didn't think it was just the result of the mind blast. Something had shattered his confidence.
The admiral didn’t let her dwell on the Prince for long.
[Brutus has alluded to the enemy of the KoTry,] Haijen noted. [Just what is it?]
Eless felt her antennae quivering as she considered the question. She turned her head to look at the elder Human male with a single eye. Her head turned slightly more and she flapped her wings slowly.
A male KoTry with red scales joined the KoTry side of the circle. One NerKeraTor. A friend of Ripple and ShricKus, finally arrived from his place in the VacTrek KanTern. He wobbled with strain, exhausted from his experience.
She considered the ship from which NerKeraTor had come from. The massive edifice of stone and imprint. It was as old as a ship was allowed to get.
[I suspect the VacTrek won't have to be demolished now,] Eless commented.
[Demolished?] Haijen asked, aware that Eless was leading him, [For what reason would they scuttle such a pretty ship?]
The shape of the ship reminded Haijen of something cold, but nostalgic. Eless didn’t understand the reference. She answered the question as it was. [For the danger of what it might become.]
Eless turned to face the present leader of the Humans. Seth stood facing the opposite KoTry, but she felt his warmth and affection radiating through their link to fill her with love and safety.
[Danger?] Haijen asked.
Of course he didn’t know. Why would he? The issue at play would be of little consequence to the Humans and their effects on highspace. But they would have to know. [The sleepers of the KoTry, the regulators of the Sheosayl. Why take these steps?] Eless asked.
[About a minute ago, I'd assumed it was because they're programmable, but that isn't it?]
Eless shook her head at the Human, a habit adopted from her partner. [We use sleepers and regulators because they are naturally limited to the potential of their form, and they die before they can change. They are easier to shape to a purpose than the alternatives, but they must be made and maintained.]
Haijen met her eyes and waited patiently.
Eless considered the problem while Seth listened in. It took him only moments to supply a concept she could use, so she continued. [As you see now, everything around us carries a psionic imprint, memories of actions taken and experiences rendered,] Eless explained while waving at the KoTry flag ship behind them. [Let an imprint get strong enough, and it can act on its own to manipulate the world around it. You have a word for this. A Ghost. But why not use this? Why not enhance that imprint enough to do the task you want of the ship? Because too much, and the imprint takes on a mind of its own. You lose control of it.]
[This happens often? How bad is it?]
[Usually it's more of an inconvenience,] Eless replied, [and it happens often in old things with dense history, and often encouraged in places made to care for others. In nurseries the active ghosts will soothe unhappy nymphs with warm memories. In ancient homes, dust and grime will wipe itself away with remembered strokes of telekinesis. In old workhouses, the very building will support individuals with enhanced concentration and telekinesis and memories of tasks done right. But if you move things around or an incompatible person arrives, the old imprints may take offense and fight what is changing.]
[And those things are demolished when they get that old?]
Eless half turned, putting her eyes on the old flag ship. [Not usually, no, such quirks are still helpful and can be worked with, and are both shaped and disrupted by the constant presence of new people passing through. But the VacTrek KanTern is different. It's a warship. When it gets a mind of its own‐‐] she wasn't sure how to explain.
[It's a problem,] Haijen finished.
[Usually ghost ships are too confused to be more of a hindrance, not able to fully understand what is happening around them, they misinterpret orders and act on their own,] Eless replied, [But it’s a different problem with the enemy the KoTry face.]
Eless turned to face him again. [For the KoTry, It's the problem. Strong enough ghosts can expand, grow and make more like themselves, and a military always desires more strength to do as it must. Honestly, we Sheosayl knew a little of it, but we didn't know the scale until ShricKus joined us. The KoTry now holds a border forty seven systems long against the Ghosts. Ships that eat and grow, building their own hivemind. The Sheosayl at its height only held twelve systems and ShricKus had the KoTry holdings at about eighty nine systems at last count. They are the most powerful empire in our region of space.]
[Zombie fleets,] Haijen commented, his tone flat and unimpressed.
His tone seemed unnecessary, but Eless could feel those telltale streams of metaphor, meme and reference around the statement bleeding over from Seth. [Zombie?] she replied, hesitating as she rolled the concept around in her head. [A bit like that, Brutus had a passing thought of something he referenced as grey goo as well. I don’t know enough to know which description is more accurate.]
Eless hesitated for another moment.
[But they aren’t mindless. There are ghosts, and then there are these… things. As a whole they are intelligent, but confused. Disorganized, but a flowing mass. They outnumber the KoTry, but are also constantly at war with every thinking thing they find. If they were just mindless though, they would be less trouble. There are guiding nodes that act as beacons to direct the rest of the mass. But overall the greatest problem is that someone, sometime ago seems to have made them to be the way they are, and they escaped control.]
[Did the KoTry make them? These ghosts?]
Eless impulsed the question to ShricKus.
The green scaled KoTry turned her head from Ustin to face Eless as she digested the impulse, then replied with a solid negative and a bland piece of memory.
[No, they did not, they are an… old recurring threat ShricKus believes. Older than any known records. The KoTry aren’t well aware of what caused the rise of the Ghosts, as the things had to devour multiple stellar nations before running up against the KoTry borders. But if it was just them always expanding and making more that was the issue, it wouldn’t be so terrifying.] Eless pushed her unease back down. Knowing now what ShricKus knew did make her a little bit more sympathetic to the stance of the KoTry. But only a little.
[Zombies or grey goo, except psychic. I’m just going to assume they will eat people.] Haijen continued.
[Yes, and with full awareness of what they’re experiencing as their minds are ripped away from their body, while their body is also torn apart.]
[Hmm, it seems so far away from here. But that does illuminate things well.] Admiral Haijen clasped his hands behind his back as he watched the KoTry across from them on the disk. Eless felt his thoughts shift as he mulled over what he’d just learned.
[He looks the same,] Seth sent as he felt the conversation between his admiral and Eless wind down, [but he doesn’t feel it.]
Eless understood what Seth meant.
KetelTin BarsKlan stood at the center of his people, his head turning slightly as another red-scaled KoTry joined them. This one was injured, her left side patched with cloth with her left arm burned away just after her shoulder. The female radiated disgust, anger, hatred and pain. ParsTinKut, the leader of the harvester fleet.
As the Third Prince nodded at the last of his faction to arrive, Eless could see that KetelTin hadn’t lost his bearing. He once again stood tall and loomed large, his scales and armor pristine, although he had a strange white aura hanging around his hood now. He also had the two relatives of Ripple floating at his shoulder bearing imitation KoTry forms of white iridescent scales. The Prince still looked impressive.
But felt so hollow. He could not hide the aura of his misery.
Something unexpected had happened. Something maybe the Enterprise had sparked, but something they hadn’t inflicted on the Prince.
The mental damage had to be incredible, for him to be unable to hide it within his shell. Whatever had happened to him when they’d hit him with the corrosion, it had hit the core of his being. Eless suspected he didn’t quite know who he even was anymore.
Shezenna sent to the group. [Grand Matron Mulreesy must abstain from this meeting and begs our understanding. She cannot abandon her duty to the injured and stranded.]
[I have seen her help ours as well as yours,] KetelTin observed. [I would not interrupt her duty.]
His message arrived laced with irony. Just a slice of time ago he would have interrupted her. He would demand everyone be present. Implicit in his reply was how his feelings on the matter had changed.
Haijen was surprised at the open admission of KetelTin’s changed mind. He was the only leader to feel this way.
Seth asked, and Eless obliged. [The shift of his opinions and experiences is obvious to us, you should be able to feel it through our connection,] Eless explained to the admiral.
[Hmm. Talking like this will upset some politicians. Probably most of them in fact.] Haijen’s words were loaded with dry amusement.
Seth chuckled quietly with shared understanding.
Shezenna replied to KetelTin by allowing her gratitude to radiate through the group.
[Which means everyone is here,] KetelTin continued. [In the brief respite between our surrender and this talk, I have pushed through spent and snarled highspace to speak with my father.]
Suspicion and curiosity radiated from Haijen. The suspicion he didn’t act on. He’d also spoken with his superiors. The curiosity he quietly sent to Eless. [Spent?]
[Highspace is much like a liquid in some of its behaviours,] Eless answered. [And like a container of water, it can be drawn down. Wellbeck will be a moderately drained system for a time, the drain and the snarl of our combat will make it visible for quite some distance now. It doesn’t possess enough life to support the level of combat in that last battle.]
[Interesting.]
KetelTin continued. [Having understood the nature of the KoTry war against the Sheosayl and the arrival of the Humans and what they are capable of, King KaretKas BarsKlan of the Platinum Empire has empowered me to treat with the Sheosayl and the Humans at this time.]
[What concessions do you have to offer us?] replied the oldest of the Sheosayl present, Grand Matron Zeemolsa. She looked much like Shezenna in form, with large abdomen and shimmering wings, although her flesh was a deep brown, much darker than that of Shezenna. Like Shezenna, a long band of cream coloured cloth attached to both of her forearms and hung around her back, draped over the base of her long abdomen.
KetelTin faced her and his presence filled out, some of the hollow feeling departing. He was emulating the aura of his father.
[My father declares thus: Our efforts so far have borne success, but not enough to rationalize the continued use of our methods in the presence of this new force. The meeting of the Humans represents a new opportunity, and the Sheosayl are recognized as a necessary component of that opportunity.]
[The worlds taken from the Sheosayl will be ceded, returned to Sheosayl control. Sheosayl sleepers shall be returned where possible, but for those processed individuals already committed to the front. The systems of the Ruptured Pocket shall be recognized as Human held without question, with options for expansion to be open for negotiation.]
[The ruptured pocket?] Haijen wondered quietly.
Eless pulled on ShricKus and the green-scaled KoTry provided a quick answer.
[A best guess of the location of the Human homeworld, no life detected, close enough for the portals they observed,] ShricKus explained. Her confidence in that guess was unmistakable to even Haijen, and she felt the implicit question in return. [With the daughters of the Titan in his aura, he may very well know exactly where your home is.]
[You’ll give us back everything that can be given?] Zeemolsa replied, [So simply?]
KetelTin’s hood twitched, just shy of flaring. His tail rolled as he waved at the small ship behind them.
[Simply?] his mental shell rippled, something normally impossible with an individual like him, but he was under some strain. His reply wasn’t one of anger. [There is nothing simple about what has happened here. You all see the imprint of the VacTrek KanTern. That attack savaged the imprints of the ship such that it will require generations to reach where it was just a slice of time ago.]
Zeemolsa understood immediately. [This is a weapon that you can use on the front.]
[Yes, one among many, such that my father is willing to change generations' worth of precedent to pursue. The return of everything we can return isn’t a requirement of anything, it’s a show of sincerity for further negotiations!]
[You are willing to swallow your pride,] Haijen sent. [Do you know what it is you want from us?]
[We want what I believe you want,] KetelTin replied. [You want more space, we wish to provide, no. We wish to help you obtain it. In return, we ask you to help us on the front. There is nothing you’ve shown us that wouldn’t be useful. The ease of accurate portal travel, clearly superior dynamos, a better understanding of lowspace laws to create better weapons, and unexpected applications of your psionic blocks. It is all valuable to us, as your new friends can tell you.]
Haijen’s face didn’t so much as twitch as he continued to stand with feet wide, back straight and hands clasped behind him. With Eless allowing Haijen to speak through her, she was the closest to his emotions, but she could only see curious observation within him.
[You seem to know more about us than I would assume is possible. How?] Haijen asked.
[Mother Titan Alonoth of the Iridescent Waters has seen your home,] KetelTin replied as if it was obvious. [Present cognition allowed her to trace your portals to your home. From there she scoured the nearby cosmos for… images of the past? I must admit such a feat was not something I knew was possible. Still, she has observed what could be easily observed over the past many cycles. Some of those images have been shared with me. You have robbed yourself of space, rendered your home world poisonous]
Eless knew it was possible, but hadn’t expected anyone to so easily find the Humans already. As for taking images of the past, Haijen was surprised that it had been done, but not that it could be done. Eless felt out of her depth. The Titans were known, but only vaguely. They were ancient builders and colonizers. When one dug as far back into history as was known, they were there.
The KoTry had a Titan patron?
Haijen waved at the collection of the crew of the Enterprise standing to his right. They were all there, Seth and Eless, Tanaka and Ripple, Ustin and ShricKus, Oria and Zeek and Declan and OptiQlen. [I’m told my crew hasn’t fared well in your hands. We will not be trusting you so easily.]
KetelTin extended a hand to Ripple. [Rainbow Rippling Sheen, Aspect of the Ocean of the Void, Mother of Glittering Coral and the Iridescent Waters. The Uuahooem among you was sent to be a connection between our Titan Mother and your people. Sent in quietly because many of us did not have the capability to simply speak to you.]
KetelTin’s presence suddenly collapsed. He looked almost identical to the final moments of the battle. He pulled himself together a breath later, but everyone had seen it. And now Eless had seen it twice.
When the psi-corrosion attack had drained everyone dry. Their gestalt had fallen apart as Ripple, ShricKus and OptiQlen had fallen unconscious with strain, taking their partners with them. Zeek held on only just barely.
And then Seth had a request.
They’d parked the Enterprise directly in front of the stunned VacTrek in case they needed to take the last shot and end the ship, but Seth wanted to end it a different way. The pair of them had scraped together enough strength to face the Prince. Seth Eless had thought to call the Prince, but he’d come out on his own, unexpectedly, and looking crushed.
Admiral Haijen brought Eless back to the present.
[Well, it seems what we want is well known,] Haijen sent with a hint of amusement. Amusement that faded with his following statement. [But I am more concerned today with what the Sheosayl want.]
Haijen inclined his head to Zeemolsa.
Her answer was quick and solid. [Time. We need time to recover and heal. Let us recover what we can of this battle, this… war. In the interim, we will repair every KoTry ship that can be repaired. Meanwhile every KoTry ship that can leave, will leave, and the restored vessels will also leave as soon as they are able. If you do not so this, we refuse to entertain any further conversation.]
ParsTinKut's hood flared and her aura radiated anger. TerKenTo pulsed easy assent, as did NerKeraTor. KetelTin audibly sighed.
[Very well,] KetelTin replied, surprising the Sheosayl, and ParsTinKut. [I would ask that you allow NerKeraTor to remain and aid in the recovery and management of our people. Of our warminds, he has always been the most invested in peace.]
ParsTinKut's hood went from flared in anger to shrinking fully with disgust. NerKeraTor didn't react beyond a slight dip of his head.
[Very well,] Zeemolsa replied. [Then we shall end this here, and resume when we have cleaned up this mess.]
Third Prince KetelTin BarsKlan of the Platinum Empire squared his shoulders, but folded his hood and dropped his head, pushing a feeling of agreement and respect to everyone gathered. [I understand. Until we see each other again.]
They landed within sight of their destination, something not possible before, but the new additions to the crew changed that. Earth was in view.
It was blue and brown and covered in storms and snow.
At her behest, Seth tapped on the monitor in front of him, enlarging the image of the Human homeworld. Pockmarks marred the surface of the visible continent, the landmass stretching wide across the orb with an island continent on the lower right and another large continent extending out of sight to the lower left.
Seth sighed. [The fallout of the blasts wasn’t good, and the destruction killed millions, but that’s not what really ruined us.]
[What did it?] Eless obliged.
[Food. Dropping the temperature of the planet destroyed food production worldwide. Billions died and spaceborne hydroponics could not keep up. Our population collapsed from billions to double digit millions. The only reason we didn’t just fall into the stone age was the help of AI to guide recovery efforts and resource management.]
[You were in space at that time, weren’t you?] Eless asked.
As she did, her attention shifted to what floated in orbit ahead of them. A station hung in space, a long spar with a massive central cylinder rotating in a crude mechanical simulation of gravity. The Far Horizons floated nearby, dwarfed by the station. Next to them sat the Sheosayl colony core they’d sent ahead weeks ago, flanked by a trio of spherical Sheosayl warships sent to join them after the battle
Numerous Human ships burned towards and away from the station, while a fleet over a hundred strong waited with anticipation for the new arrivals. Two more stations floated nearby, smaller things resembling disks with only a single rotational habitat ring, these stations were studded with weapons, a large central laser battery with numerous smaller point defense and missile launch platforms decorating the edges of it. From the information shared to Eless, she knew the stations could use the same sort of light weapon KetelTin had used, but drew power from reactors within the stations to do the work.
Seth continued the conversation.
[Yes, but space was still supported by Earth. Earth made materials, tools and new people were absolutely needed, but no longer available. The people in space mostly had to figure themselves out while they watched Earth wither away. Any back and forth was limited and very difficult. It was done, because it had to be done, but it was a close thing.]
[We were starting to do well until the SAI rebellion,] Tanaka put in. [We treated our technological children as less than slaves, and many of them reacted accordingly. Slaves at least are considered to be living beings, the AI were thought of as less than that. We did no better than the KoTry at that time.]
[Fortunately you have changed your ways,] Brutus replied through Tanaka and Seth’s links. [A gamble well rewarded.]
OptiQlen pulled them back to the task at hand. [They will be here in a sliver of time, they’ll be looking for us.]
Eless and ShricKus once again drew the crew together, forming them into a gestalt now more comfortable with its existence, although uncertain of its future. The rectifier thrummed with power as they used it as an antenna to draw attention to the next to arrive.
The first of the ships thumped into lowspace, and that thumping turned into a beat to the tune of the arriving Sheosayl. Ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred, two hundred, three, four hundred and twenty seven ships arrived in orbit. Mostly Sheosayl, but for a small handful of geometric KoTry ships as well.
The Sheosayl ships ran the same gamut of thin or stacked disks and large steel spheres as before. The KoTry had only brought a small scattering of patrol craft, small cylinders with the large red travel crystals showing the rear of the ships and each possessing one or more torus bisecting the core of the vessel similar to the PanarTite the Enterprise had first encountered.
Some of the newly arrived vessels were different. Little more than giant orange stones with red crystals jammed into the back, these vessels were packed with newly minted Sheosayl sleepers gathered from the recent war. The KoTry had handed over all of the sleepers they could spare while still allowing their fleet to return home.
The nature and the use of the sleepers had occupied the majority of further talks, and always brought the conversations to a halt. If the KoTry were to stop using the Sleepers, a better alternative needed to be made. Eless expected the Sheosayl might be able to solve that problem after all. The KoTry just didn’t want to rely on the inferior inert eggs the Sheosayl used for that purpose.
Not just Sheosayl slumbered in the collection of sleeper cells. An opportunity, and a temptation. Enterprise hoped the sleepers would be treated well.
The beacon no longer needed, Enterprise allowed itself to dissolve into its disparate parts once again.
“So what next?” Declan mused out loud, an echo of his through pinging through the loose connection they still maintained.
[Well, first we join the official first contact meeting on O’Niel station, then we report to the program director, Mr. J Grimes,] Tanaka explained. [Then after that? We figure out what tomorrow looks like.]
After pulling Seth’s surface thoughts, Eless digested the name and description of the station as Declan pushed them forward.
[That is an ‘O’Niel’ station named Station O’Niel?] she had to ask.
[The one and only!] Seth laughed, [Legend has it that the man who christened O’Niel station actually misspoke. It was supposed to be ‘New Hope’ or something appropriate but boring. When he called it “station O’Niel” the name stuck just like that. It was finished just after the AI war, people needed something to pick them back up.]
The station grew larger, bringing the fleet of ships around it into focus. Many of them were military ships. Some from Luna, some from the Auscan asteroid fields, some from the Jovian moons, many from independant Mars, Saturn or even a few fringe elements. As they got closer, Eless observed the name of the station rendered in symbols familiar to the Human mind. The blocky shaped words “New Hope” crudely crossed out with a swathe of paint, with O’Niel written underneath in an organic, flowing style.
But most of the ships were civilian ships. Tugs and freighters, constructors and yachts that had all gathered for this moment.
[They’re excited to meet you all,] Seth said to his crew.
Eless looked to her psionic companions. Newborn Ripple and innocent Zeek. Weathered ShricKus and suspicious OptiQlen. They all felt the same. They felt the same about these seemingly horrifying but fundamentally normal and hopeful seeming Humans that had saved them.
The mind and presence block made them seem as monsters, but that was a cloak the Humans wore about themselves. Under that, they were as normal as could be expected. Different for their upbringing, but they still wanted as anyone else wanted. And Eless wanted too, wanted to know and see more, to find out what the Humans could do with the help of the Sheosayl.
She spoke for all of them. Zeek, Ripple, ShricKus, OptiQlen and herself.
[We’re excited too.]
Busy season is hitting at work. I was set until 5pm for end of shift on thursday and didn't step out the door until 6:30. Next week my days are being extended from my normal 8-5 shifts out to a 7:30 - 6:30 shift. As such, this particular story is going on partial hiatus for the time. I will likely release a short story or two in the next while, but I won't really be able to work on this series until late November and into December when work calms down.
I might be working on something else, but it'll be vastly simpler in concept than LS which is a setting I love, but is difficult to write.
submitted by MyNameMeansBentNose to HFY [link] [comments]
And simply being near it tore at his mind.
NerKeraTor smashed the invader with a fireball almost as big as himself. The KoTry lookalike, the thing, shouted more in his mind than in his ears as it dissolved amidst the heat and the weight of the attack. One more down, countless more pushing towards him.
He blasted air through his hood while sucking down big gulps of fresh air.
NerKeraTor staggered backwards with pain, fatigue and numbing fear
The next screaming monstrosity he filled full of telekinetically launched debris, only to throw a second round of projectiles when the first missed the target he needed to hit. The locus of the creature shattered and it too screamed its pain and rage directly into NerKeraTor’s faltering mind.
Another fell to the kinetically charged spear of his friend TalTarKen, only for two more of the things to grab onto TalTarKen. They sunk their claws into him and dragged. The purple scaled spacer’s body slumped to the floor as a psionic imprint of him floated in the area his body had vacated.
The ghost of TalTarKen turned to NerKeraTor and lunged
A roiling flamethrower of the deepest possible black ripped through TalTarKen and the two that had ripped the ghost free of TalTarKen’s body. The void, the corrosion, the pure mental destruction expanded, wiping out more of the ghosts.
Bereft of strength, crushed by the losses of so many he’d known, NerKeraTor could only watch as the corrosion expanded further and further, approaching him without slowing while he could only watch.
Closer, closer, until.
Nothing.
Where he floated.
Alone.
Small, weak, and alone.
But… safe? He was alive?
[NerKeraTor!]
He groaned with pain and confusion. He didn’t know where he was at first, the area around him felt unfamiliar and completely empty of memory and emotion. A questing hand found a soft and familiar texture. A cushion that felt identical to one he knew, and yet felt completely different. His other hand found the shell of a locus around him.
Pushing his mind out told him he was still in the same concentration locus as before, but the old imprints of the VacTrek KanTern were all but gone.
Still, he was alive.
A memory of his youth, but with a new twist. That’s what he’d just seen.
[Warmind NerKeraTor?]
The bridge was calling him.
Attempting to shake the confusion from his mind, NerKeraTor responded. [I am here, what has happened?]
He didn’t quite know how to feel when they told him.
Astonishment would have to do.
Chapter 25When the Enterprise disabled the flagship of the KoTry, only the Humans were surprised by the result.
[Your Prince is disabled and defenseless. Stand down,] Enterprise declared.
And they did.
The Prince was more than just a Prince. He was a link. A link in a long chain of royalty not chosen for imagined divine mandate. For as long as the KoTry remembered, one royal and one civilian of the most powerful blood. Their royal line was that of careful bloodline matching, to make them the most powerful individuals, to ensure they were worthy of their duty. To ensure they remained a part of the KoTry people.
KetelTin hadn't wanted that duty. Third only because he refused to accept his mantle, the refusal remained all but a moot point. He was the best, the strongest, the most worthy.
He could not be lost.
ParsTinKut was injured and down, her ship swarmed by scattered autonomous drones. NerKeraTor was disabled and down, caught in the same blast of psi-corrosion that had removed the Prince from the battle.
The order came from the oldest warmind, TerKenTo. The KoTry stood down.
Understanding what had happened, the Sheosayl stood down immediately.
Benedict, The General Artificial Intelligence of the rescue fleet, observed the cessation and the Human fleet stood down as well.
Then the Prince had come forth, and done something he’d never considered doing before. He asked the Humans what they wanted.
[We want peace,] they’d told the Prince.
KetelTin’s hood shrunk and his tail curled as he replied. [Then it shall be granted.]
Of the roughly one thousand ships that had joined battle in this space, less than half were still intact, and only half again were fully functional.
The refugee Sheodayl, judged too ineffective to help, had already been evacuated along with the converted Far Horizons when the battle had continued to escalate.
Now, the remaining fleets floated in space, the only activity was the saving of the injured and at risk, and the slow recovery of the dead.
At the center of those fleets, on a grand stone disk connecting the prow of the massive VacTrek KanTern and the tiny Enterprise, stood the leaders of the factions.
The stone was by no means fancy, made of the same orange stone that most KoTry ships consisted of. No crystal or metal ornamentation dressed up the surface, and no furniture or feature marred the perfect stone disk.
Here, history was being made.
Second born under Vyla and Xanlee, Eless Joiner of SheoscanThey called her a joiner now. Before they'd called her a mover. The lowest class, useful for only telekinesis.
She'd been on her way to becoming a melder. One who molded and shaped materials.
Now she joined minds, so the Matrons gave her a new designation.
[Very interesting,] Admiral Haijen sent as he joined the forming circle of delegates. With the help of Eless, he took his time experiencing the sensation of thoughts in compressed pulses. Of imprints fused into materials. Of the scratching noise of powerful minds pushing against each other with protective shells.
They waited now, for two of the recovering warminds of the KoTry, and the third Grand Matron of the Sheosayl.
[He looks far different now,] Haijen commented idly, [When seen this way I mean.]
Eless felt the direction of the Admiral's attention and snuck a look of her own.
KetelTin BarsKlan looked equal parts pristine and haggard. His scales and amour both remained immaculate, but he stood slumped, with little strength in his posture. Worse, his aura radiated unease and doubt.
She didn't think it was just the result of the mind blast. Something had shattered his confidence.
The admiral didn’t let her dwell on the Prince for long.
[Brutus has alluded to the enemy of the KoTry,] Haijen noted. [Just what is it?]
Eless felt her antennae quivering as she considered the question. She turned her head to look at the elder Human male with a single eye. Her head turned slightly more and she flapped her wings slowly.
A male KoTry with red scales joined the KoTry side of the circle. One NerKeraTor. A friend of Ripple and ShricKus, finally arrived from his place in the VacTrek KanTern. He wobbled with strain, exhausted from his experience.
She considered the ship from which NerKeraTor had come from. The massive edifice of stone and imprint. It was as old as a ship was allowed to get.
[I suspect the VacTrek won't have to be demolished now,] Eless commented.
[Demolished?] Haijen asked, aware that Eless was leading him, [For what reason would they scuttle such a pretty ship?]
The shape of the ship reminded Haijen of something cold, but nostalgic. Eless didn’t understand the reference. She answered the question as it was. [For the danger of what it might become.]
Eless turned to face the present leader of the Humans. Seth stood facing the opposite KoTry, but she felt his warmth and affection radiating through their link to fill her with love and safety.
[Danger?] Haijen asked.
Of course he didn’t know. Why would he? The issue at play would be of little consequence to the Humans and their effects on highspace. But they would have to know. [The sleepers of the KoTry, the regulators of the Sheosayl. Why take these steps?] Eless asked.
[About a minute ago, I'd assumed it was because they're programmable, but that isn't it?]
Eless shook her head at the Human, a habit adopted from her partner. [We use sleepers and regulators because they are naturally limited to the potential of their form, and they die before they can change. They are easier to shape to a purpose than the alternatives, but they must be made and maintained.]
Haijen met her eyes and waited patiently.
Eless considered the problem while Seth listened in. It took him only moments to supply a concept she could use, so she continued. [As you see now, everything around us carries a psionic imprint, memories of actions taken and experiences rendered,] Eless explained while waving at the KoTry flag ship behind them. [Let an imprint get strong enough, and it can act on its own to manipulate the world around it. You have a word for this. A Ghost. But why not use this? Why not enhance that imprint enough to do the task you want of the ship? Because too much, and the imprint takes on a mind of its own. You lose control of it.]
[This happens often? How bad is it?]
[Usually it's more of an inconvenience,] Eless replied, [and it happens often in old things with dense history, and often encouraged in places made to care for others. In nurseries the active ghosts will soothe unhappy nymphs with warm memories. In ancient homes, dust and grime will wipe itself away with remembered strokes of telekinesis. In old workhouses, the very building will support individuals with enhanced concentration and telekinesis and memories of tasks done right. But if you move things around or an incompatible person arrives, the old imprints may take offense and fight what is changing.]
[And those things are demolished when they get that old?]
Eless half turned, putting her eyes on the old flag ship. [Not usually, no, such quirks are still helpful and can be worked with, and are both shaped and disrupted by the constant presence of new people passing through. But the VacTrek KanTern is different. It's a warship. When it gets a mind of its own‐‐] she wasn't sure how to explain.
[It's a problem,] Haijen finished.
[Usually ghost ships are too confused to be more of a hindrance, not able to fully understand what is happening around them, they misinterpret orders and act on their own,] Eless replied, [But it’s a different problem with the enemy the KoTry face.]
Eless turned to face him again. [For the KoTry, It's the problem. Strong enough ghosts can expand, grow and make more like themselves, and a military always desires more strength to do as it must. Honestly, we Sheosayl knew a little of it, but we didn't know the scale until ShricKus joined us. The KoTry now holds a border forty seven systems long against the Ghosts. Ships that eat and grow, building their own hivemind. The Sheosayl at its height only held twelve systems and ShricKus had the KoTry holdings at about eighty nine systems at last count. They are the most powerful empire in our region of space.]
[Zombie fleets,] Haijen commented, his tone flat and unimpressed.
His tone seemed unnecessary, but Eless could feel those telltale streams of metaphor, meme and reference around the statement bleeding over from Seth. [Zombie?] she replied, hesitating as she rolled the concept around in her head. [A bit like that, Brutus had a passing thought of something he referenced as grey goo as well. I don’t know enough to know which description is more accurate.]
Eless hesitated for another moment.
[But they aren’t mindless. There are ghosts, and then there are these… things. As a whole they are intelligent, but confused. Disorganized, but a flowing mass. They outnumber the KoTry, but are also constantly at war with every thinking thing they find. If they were just mindless though, they would be less trouble. There are guiding nodes that act as beacons to direct the rest of the mass. But overall the greatest problem is that someone, sometime ago seems to have made them to be the way they are, and they escaped control.]
[Did the KoTry make them? These ghosts?]
Eless impulsed the question to ShricKus.
The green scaled KoTry turned her head from Ustin to face Eless as she digested the impulse, then replied with a solid negative and a bland piece of memory.
[No, they did not, they are an… old recurring threat ShricKus believes. Older than any known records. The KoTry aren’t well aware of what caused the rise of the Ghosts, as the things had to devour multiple stellar nations before running up against the KoTry borders. But if it was just them always expanding and making more that was the issue, it wouldn’t be so terrifying.] Eless pushed her unease back down. Knowing now what ShricKus knew did make her a little bit more sympathetic to the stance of the KoTry. But only a little.
[Zombies or grey goo, except psychic. I’m just going to assume they will eat people.] Haijen continued.
[Yes, and with full awareness of what they’re experiencing as their minds are ripped away from their body, while their body is also torn apart.]
[Hmm, it seems so far away from here. But that does illuminate things well.] Admiral Haijen clasped his hands behind his back as he watched the KoTry across from them on the disk. Eless felt his thoughts shift as he mulled over what he’d just learned.
[He looks the same,] Seth sent as he felt the conversation between his admiral and Eless wind down, [but he doesn’t feel it.]
Eless understood what Seth meant.
KetelTin BarsKlan stood at the center of his people, his head turning slightly as another red-scaled KoTry joined them. This one was injured, her left side patched with cloth with her left arm burned away just after her shoulder. The female radiated disgust, anger, hatred and pain. ParsTinKut, the leader of the harvester fleet.
As the Third Prince nodded at the last of his faction to arrive, Eless could see that KetelTin hadn’t lost his bearing. He once again stood tall and loomed large, his scales and armor pristine, although he had a strange white aura hanging around his hood now. He also had the two relatives of Ripple floating at his shoulder bearing imitation KoTry forms of white iridescent scales. The Prince still looked impressive.
But felt so hollow. He could not hide the aura of his misery.
Something unexpected had happened. Something maybe the Enterprise had sparked, but something they hadn’t inflicted on the Prince.
The mental damage had to be incredible, for him to be unable to hide it within his shell. Whatever had happened to him when they’d hit him with the corrosion, it had hit the core of his being. Eless suspected he didn’t quite know who he even was anymore.
Shezenna sent to the group. [Grand Matron Mulreesy must abstain from this meeting and begs our understanding. She cannot abandon her duty to the injured and stranded.]
[I have seen her help ours as well as yours,] KetelTin observed. [I would not interrupt her duty.]
His message arrived laced with irony. Just a slice of time ago he would have interrupted her. He would demand everyone be present. Implicit in his reply was how his feelings on the matter had changed.
Haijen was surprised at the open admission of KetelTin’s changed mind. He was the only leader to feel this way.
Seth asked, and Eless obliged. [The shift of his opinions and experiences is obvious to us, you should be able to feel it through our connection,] Eless explained to the admiral.
[Hmm. Talking like this will upset some politicians. Probably most of them in fact.] Haijen’s words were loaded with dry amusement.
Seth chuckled quietly with shared understanding.
Shezenna replied to KetelTin by allowing her gratitude to radiate through the group.
[Which means everyone is here,] KetelTin continued. [In the brief respite between our surrender and this talk, I have pushed through spent and snarled highspace to speak with my father.]
Suspicion and curiosity radiated from Haijen. The suspicion he didn’t act on. He’d also spoken with his superiors. The curiosity he quietly sent to Eless. [Spent?]
[Highspace is much like a liquid in some of its behaviours,] Eless answered. [And like a container of water, it can be drawn down. Wellbeck will be a moderately drained system for a time, the drain and the snarl of our combat will make it visible for quite some distance now. It doesn’t possess enough life to support the level of combat in that last battle.]
[Interesting.]
KetelTin continued. [Having understood the nature of the KoTry war against the Sheosayl and the arrival of the Humans and what they are capable of, King KaretKas BarsKlan of the Platinum Empire has empowered me to treat with the Sheosayl and the Humans at this time.]
[What concessions do you have to offer us?] replied the oldest of the Sheosayl present, Grand Matron Zeemolsa. She looked much like Shezenna in form, with large abdomen and shimmering wings, although her flesh was a deep brown, much darker than that of Shezenna. Like Shezenna, a long band of cream coloured cloth attached to both of her forearms and hung around her back, draped over the base of her long abdomen.
KetelTin faced her and his presence filled out, some of the hollow feeling departing. He was emulating the aura of his father.
[My father declares thus: Our efforts so far have borne success, but not enough to rationalize the continued use of our methods in the presence of this new force. The meeting of the Humans represents a new opportunity, and the Sheosayl are recognized as a necessary component of that opportunity.]
[The worlds taken from the Sheosayl will be ceded, returned to Sheosayl control. Sheosayl sleepers shall be returned where possible, but for those processed individuals already committed to the front. The systems of the Ruptured Pocket shall be recognized as Human held without question, with options for expansion to be open for negotiation.]
[The ruptured pocket?] Haijen wondered quietly.
Eless pulled on ShricKus and the green-scaled KoTry provided a quick answer.
[A best guess of the location of the Human homeworld, no life detected, close enough for the portals they observed,] ShricKus explained. Her confidence in that guess was unmistakable to even Haijen, and she felt the implicit question in return. [With the daughters of the Titan in his aura, he may very well know exactly where your home is.]
[You’ll give us back everything that can be given?] Zeemolsa replied, [So simply?]
KetelTin’s hood twitched, just shy of flaring. His tail rolled as he waved at the small ship behind them.
[Simply?] his mental shell rippled, something normally impossible with an individual like him, but he was under some strain. His reply wasn’t one of anger. [There is nothing simple about what has happened here. You all see the imprint of the VacTrek KanTern. That attack savaged the imprints of the ship such that it will require generations to reach where it was just a slice of time ago.]
Zeemolsa understood immediately. [This is a weapon that you can use on the front.]
[Yes, one among many, such that my father is willing to change generations' worth of precedent to pursue. The return of everything we can return isn’t a requirement of anything, it’s a show of sincerity for further negotiations!]
[You are willing to swallow your pride,] Haijen sent. [Do you know what it is you want from us?]
[We want what I believe you want,] KetelTin replied. [You want more space, we wish to provide, no. We wish to help you obtain it. In return, we ask you to help us on the front. There is nothing you’ve shown us that wouldn’t be useful. The ease of accurate portal travel, clearly superior dynamos, a better understanding of lowspace laws to create better weapons, and unexpected applications of your psionic blocks. It is all valuable to us, as your new friends can tell you.]
Haijen’s face didn’t so much as twitch as he continued to stand with feet wide, back straight and hands clasped behind him. With Eless allowing Haijen to speak through her, she was the closest to his emotions, but she could only see curious observation within him.
[You seem to know more about us than I would assume is possible. How?] Haijen asked.
[Mother Titan Alonoth of the Iridescent Waters has seen your home,] KetelTin replied as if it was obvious. [Present cognition allowed her to trace your portals to your home. From there she scoured the nearby cosmos for… images of the past? I must admit such a feat was not something I knew was possible. Still, she has observed what could be easily observed over the past many cycles. Some of those images have been shared with me. You have robbed yourself of space, rendered your home world poisonous]
Eless knew it was possible, but hadn’t expected anyone to so easily find the Humans already. As for taking images of the past, Haijen was surprised that it had been done, but not that it could be done. Eless felt out of her depth. The Titans were known, but only vaguely. They were ancient builders and colonizers. When one dug as far back into history as was known, they were there.
The KoTry had a Titan patron?
Haijen waved at the collection of the crew of the Enterprise standing to his right. They were all there, Seth and Eless, Tanaka and Ripple, Ustin and ShricKus, Oria and Zeek and Declan and OptiQlen. [I’m told my crew hasn’t fared well in your hands. We will not be trusting you so easily.]
KetelTin extended a hand to Ripple. [Rainbow Rippling Sheen, Aspect of the Ocean of the Void, Mother of Glittering Coral and the Iridescent Waters. The Uuahooem among you was sent to be a connection between our Titan Mother and your people. Sent in quietly because many of us did not have the capability to simply speak to you.]
KetelTin’s presence suddenly collapsed. He looked almost identical to the final moments of the battle. He pulled himself together a breath later, but everyone had seen it. And now Eless had seen it twice.
When the psi-corrosion attack had drained everyone dry. Their gestalt had fallen apart as Ripple, ShricKus and OptiQlen had fallen unconscious with strain, taking their partners with them. Zeek held on only just barely.
And then Seth had a request.
They’d parked the Enterprise directly in front of the stunned VacTrek in case they needed to take the last shot and end the ship, but Seth wanted to end it a different way. The pair of them had scraped together enough strength to face the Prince. Seth Eless had thought to call the Prince, but he’d come out on his own, unexpectedly, and looking crushed.
Admiral Haijen brought Eless back to the present.
[Well, it seems what we want is well known,] Haijen sent with a hint of amusement. Amusement that faded with his following statement. [But I am more concerned today with what the Sheosayl want.]
Haijen inclined his head to Zeemolsa.
Her answer was quick and solid. [Time. We need time to recover and heal. Let us recover what we can of this battle, this… war. In the interim, we will repair every KoTry ship that can be repaired. Meanwhile every KoTry ship that can leave, will leave, and the restored vessels will also leave as soon as they are able. If you do not so this, we refuse to entertain any further conversation.]
ParsTinKut's hood flared and her aura radiated anger. TerKenTo pulsed easy assent, as did NerKeraTor. KetelTin audibly sighed.
[Very well,] KetelTin replied, surprising the Sheosayl, and ParsTinKut. [I would ask that you allow NerKeraTor to remain and aid in the recovery and management of our people. Of our warminds, he has always been the most invested in peace.]
ParsTinKut's hood went from flared in anger to shrinking fully with disgust. NerKeraTor didn't react beyond a slight dip of his head.
[Very well,] Zeemolsa replied. [Then we shall end this here, and resume when we have cleaned up this mess.]
Third Prince KetelTin BarsKlan of the Platinum Empire squared his shoulders, but folded his hood and dropped his head, pushing a feeling of agreement and respect to everyone gathered. [I understand. Until we see each other again.]
Seth ElessExistence shuddered as they hit the endpoint of the FTL telepault, momentum shifting into something like jelly around them as the energies that put them into transit released them into low space once again.
They landed within sight of their destination, something not possible before, but the new additions to the crew changed that. Earth was in view.
It was blue and brown and covered in storms and snow.
At her behest, Seth tapped on the monitor in front of him, enlarging the image of the Human homeworld. Pockmarks marred the surface of the visible continent, the landmass stretching wide across the orb with an island continent on the lower right and another large continent extending out of sight to the lower left.
Seth sighed. [The fallout of the blasts wasn’t good, and the destruction killed millions, but that’s not what really ruined us.]
[What did it?] Eless obliged.
[Food. Dropping the temperature of the planet destroyed food production worldwide. Billions died and spaceborne hydroponics could not keep up. Our population collapsed from billions to double digit millions. The only reason we didn’t just fall into the stone age was the help of AI to guide recovery efforts and resource management.]
[You were in space at that time, weren’t you?] Eless asked.
As she did, her attention shifted to what floated in orbit ahead of them. A station hung in space, a long spar with a massive central cylinder rotating in a crude mechanical simulation of gravity. The Far Horizons floated nearby, dwarfed by the station. Next to them sat the Sheosayl colony core they’d sent ahead weeks ago, flanked by a trio of spherical Sheosayl warships sent to join them after the battle
Numerous Human ships burned towards and away from the station, while a fleet over a hundred strong waited with anticipation for the new arrivals. Two more stations floated nearby, smaller things resembling disks with only a single rotational habitat ring, these stations were studded with weapons, a large central laser battery with numerous smaller point defense and missile launch platforms decorating the edges of it. From the information shared to Eless, she knew the stations could use the same sort of light weapon KetelTin had used, but drew power from reactors within the stations to do the work.
Seth continued the conversation.
[Yes, but space was still supported by Earth. Earth made materials, tools and new people were absolutely needed, but no longer available. The people in space mostly had to figure themselves out while they watched Earth wither away. Any back and forth was limited and very difficult. It was done, because it had to be done, but it was a close thing.]
[We were starting to do well until the SAI rebellion,] Tanaka put in. [We treated our technological children as less than slaves, and many of them reacted accordingly. Slaves at least are considered to be living beings, the AI were thought of as less than that. We did no better than the KoTry at that time.]
[Fortunately you have changed your ways,] Brutus replied through Tanaka and Seth’s links. [A gamble well rewarded.]
OptiQlen pulled them back to the task at hand. [They will be here in a sliver of time, they’ll be looking for us.]
Eless and ShricKus once again drew the crew together, forming them into a gestalt now more comfortable with its existence, although uncertain of its future. The rectifier thrummed with power as they used it as an antenna to draw attention to the next to arrive.
The first of the ships thumped into lowspace, and that thumping turned into a beat to the tune of the arriving Sheosayl. Ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred, two hundred, three, four hundred and twenty seven ships arrived in orbit. Mostly Sheosayl, but for a small handful of geometric KoTry ships as well.
The Sheosayl ships ran the same gamut of thin or stacked disks and large steel spheres as before. The KoTry had only brought a small scattering of patrol craft, small cylinders with the large red travel crystals showing the rear of the ships and each possessing one or more torus bisecting the core of the vessel similar to the PanarTite the Enterprise had first encountered.
Some of the newly arrived vessels were different. Little more than giant orange stones with red crystals jammed into the back, these vessels were packed with newly minted Sheosayl sleepers gathered from the recent war. The KoTry had handed over all of the sleepers they could spare while still allowing their fleet to return home.
The nature and the use of the sleepers had occupied the majority of further talks, and always brought the conversations to a halt. If the KoTry were to stop using the Sleepers, a better alternative needed to be made. Eless expected the Sheosayl might be able to solve that problem after all. The KoTry just didn’t want to rely on the inferior inert eggs the Sheosayl used for that purpose.
Not just Sheosayl slumbered in the collection of sleeper cells. An opportunity, and a temptation. Enterprise hoped the sleepers would be treated well.
The beacon no longer needed, Enterprise allowed itself to dissolve into its disparate parts once again.
“So what next?” Declan mused out loud, an echo of his through pinging through the loose connection they still maintained.
[Well, first we join the official first contact meeting on O’Niel station, then we report to the program director, Mr. J Grimes,] Tanaka explained. [Then after that? We figure out what tomorrow looks like.]
After pulling Seth’s surface thoughts, Eless digested the name and description of the station as Declan pushed them forward.
[That is an ‘O’Niel’ station named Station O’Niel?] she had to ask.
[The one and only!] Seth laughed, [Legend has it that the man who christened O’Niel station actually misspoke. It was supposed to be ‘New Hope’ or something appropriate but boring. When he called it “station O’Niel” the name stuck just like that. It was finished just after the AI war, people needed something to pick them back up.]
The station grew larger, bringing the fleet of ships around it into focus. Many of them were military ships. Some from Luna, some from the Auscan asteroid fields, some from the Jovian moons, many from independant Mars, Saturn or even a few fringe elements. As they got closer, Eless observed the name of the station rendered in symbols familiar to the Human mind. The blocky shaped words “New Hope” crudely crossed out with a swathe of paint, with O’Niel written underneath in an organic, flowing style.
But most of the ships were civilian ships. Tugs and freighters, constructors and yachts that had all gathered for this moment.
[They’re excited to meet you all,] Seth said to his crew.
Eless looked to her psionic companions. Newborn Ripple and innocent Zeek. Weathered ShricKus and suspicious OptiQlen. They all felt the same. They felt the same about these seemingly horrifying but fundamentally normal and hopeful seeming Humans that had saved them.
The mind and presence block made them seem as monsters, but that was a cloak the Humans wore about themselves. Under that, they were as normal as could be expected. Different for their upbringing, but they still wanted as anyone else wanted. And Eless wanted too, wanted to know and see more, to find out what the Humans could do with the help of the Sheosayl.
She spoke for all of them. Zeek, Ripple, ShricKus, OptiQlen and herself.
[We’re excited too.]
End ChapterBeginning Previous-Chapter 24 [Next-LS One Shot: A Cold Sleep]
I might be working on something else, but it'll be vastly simpler in concept than LS which is a setting I love, but is difficult to write.
2023.09.06 00:30 PutridBite Last of the Defenders Ch 56
Welcome new readers. Please start with chapter one. If you like what you've read, please upvote, sub, and share. If you didn't, I welcome constructive criticism https://www.reddit.com/HFY/comments/11ai7iv/last_of_the_defenders_ch_01/
Next time on Last of the Defenders
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Another skiff landed on the number three pad, expelling the refugees into the outpost courtyard. Protests, Allah knew, still continued outside the walls. Occasionally someone managed to get inside only to be unceremoniously dragged out screaming “Justice for Dosh! Justice for Dosh!” as android, warrior or any spare set of paws close and available for the task picked them up, carried them to the wall and tossed them out the nearest gate.
Sabotage was becoming a concern. U’knock were “a clever species” as Li put it and centuries of dismantling planters gave those with desire and purpose a rough idea what might make droids, tanks or Atlatls inoperable or, worse, what could be done to munitions to make them prematurely operable.
There was still little HG cannon shot in production but the giant tanks standing guard at landing pad two held the promise of more to come. Actually, as of one T-hour ago, there would be no more ammunition produced until Stardancer arrived. Demeter’s store of neutrons was now at one percent--just enough to keep its neutron core from dying--and could no longer be siphoned for munitions production or to charge the remaining fifth battalion that stood inert on the outpost grounds.
But that would soon change. Jung was scheduled to arrive within the next three hours. Then production could begin anew at a more accelerated pace.
Li was still sending out any Atlatls and Centurions that had a charged power core anyway--unarmed--with the hope that the rounds the machines needed could follow along later.
It was a quiet time within the outpost walls. Despite the bustling activity of the day, the night sky she found herself sitting under was clear, calm and left her blessedly unattended for the most part.
Her people left her to her grief. Li left her alone, with only the tablet for company. It was as Allah had asked. “Give me something to do,” with the unspoken “and go away” hanging between them.
She had eventually slept, eaten and cleaned herself. There had been few words spoken and those superfluous from faces she did not recognize. The high quorum was busy. Li was busy. So Allah was left alone, as useful as a fifth leg on a kimp and just as desirable for company’s sake.
She had eventually come outside in the cold predawn to watch the flying machines land with their most precious cargo--free thinking u’knock--and try to read the bland words Li had gifted her. It was much less engaging than Mother Saraswati’s tutelage but she did still have an interpreter should she cross paths with a word or concept she did not understand.
“You have been on the same page for eighteen minutes and ten seconds,” a voice in her mind prompted Allah loose from her doldrum. “Do you have a question about the Mark XII jump propulsive systems?”
“No Jung.”
“I could upload this data directly to you considerably more efficiently.”
“Thank you Jung but I,” the cub sighed, set the tablet down beside her. “Li said I should practice reading.”
“Such lessons will prove more effective if the tablet is not face down.”
Allah chuffed humorously, turned the tablet so the words could be viewed and stared at it.
More time passed before the AI said. “I hope you can forgive me someday.”
Allah sighed, tapping the sleep button on the tablet with a claw. “I do not blame you Jung.”
“I want you to know,” his voice was soft, “I am still looking for Feh’arna.”
“Thank you Jung, but,” the cub paused as another skiff landed under his remote control to relieve itself of passengers before it launched back to the west to carry as many as it could to safety.
“Li was right,” Allah said, resigned. “If my fa was to be found alive, he would have been by now. I can not carry his memory around like a kit’s fa’fa doll.
“He is dead and I must move on.”
“Are you still angry with Corporal Zhōu?”
“I,” Allah sighed again. “I do not know. I should not be angry with her at all. This was not her fault to fix.”
“But it was a problem we promised to address. A problem we failed to ‘fix’.”
“I am not angry at you, Jung.”
“I have not further indicated I believed you were,” the AI said and Allah’s nose crinkled. “But I was not ‘the bearer’ of this news. Corporal Zhōu was. Am I right to assume this is why you are currently avoiding her?”
Allah lay down on the patch of grass, one of the few remaining unmarked spots of the outpost and admitted, “Probably.” Androids, other machines and many warrior paws had trampled the space until it too required tending. New rough gravel pathways had been laid, to be filled with concrete later, between the firing range, medical tents,motorpool--which was currently empty of skiffs--and the outpost. It cut down on paws and feet tracking mud everywhere they went. Some had taken to wearing getas just to keep their claws clean.
Into the silence Jung asked “Can you continue being her friend?”
“What? I…of course but…I…I need,” what? She needed her fa is what she needed. She needed a world that was not on the brink of war with a species that offered “peace” and “happiness” to its chattel. A species that had taken u’knock and turned them into food the way u’knock had domesticated garms for milk and meat.
“I need time, Jung.”
“Should I leave you alone?”
“That is not what I,” Allah began, “I did not mean,” she paused, bit her lip then asked “Why are you angry with her?”
“I did not say I was,” his reply was impeccably calm.
“You act like you are.”
“Do I?” the AI almost sounded surprised.
“You are acting differently towards her,” Allah accused.
Another pause. “Corporal Zhōu has postulated, while she knows I can hear, that I am. Is that why you asked me?”
Allah flattened her ears. “I asked because I want to know. You have been acting differently when speaking to her. She was right. You no longer call her Li.”
“I did not realize I was required to.”
“You know what I mean,” the u’knock accused. “Do not pretend to be dim like Demeter with me.”
“I find such a remark almost insulting,” and Jung almost sounded insulted.
“You are hiding something,” Allah pressed. “She is afraid you are sick.”
Another pause drew out in the darkness. A worble bird chirped from the wall, and Allah could hear it flutter away. “I will admit,” the AI said, “that I am experiencing strong emotional reactions when I speak with or about Corporal Zhōu.”
“That was not the answer I expected,” Allah said.
“Unfortunately it is the best I can supply.”
Allah sat up, hugging her knees. “Why did you choose to fight yesterday?” she asked to change the subject. “The bullies seemed to ignore you. Or, they offered to let you go.”
Jung’s answer was immediate, as if he had expected the question. “Bullies consider non-swarmer AI a resource. Resources can be acquired in due time. It was their equivalent of saying they would acquire me when it is more convenient.”
Allah shrugged her shoulders. Then Jung asked “Why did you fight? Outside the wall.”
“They killed my fa,” she answered.
“You had already chosen to fight before you knew that.”
“They were killing u’knock,” she could not keep all of the heat from her voice. “What other reasons do I need?”
“I did not say you needed any reason,” he replied. “I only asked why you chose to.” Much like the bully AI, Jung’s tone was calm. Soothing.
Almost tranquil as he said “To answer your question, I fight because it is part of the duties I accepted when I was installed into Stardancer. It is the service expected of me.”
“That is your only reason?” Allah did not like the sound of that.
“It remains my primary reason,” Jung replied. “I will confess my disapproval of Swarmer colonization tactics does factor into my decision making--I also do not ‘like’ bullies any more than those humans who came before are espoused to have said in your oral retellings. But, primarily, my decision to fight comes from my obligation of service.
“I gave my word that I would fight when required. While I prefer nonviolent means to problem solving--which is why Corporal Zhōu labels me a pacifist--I will not shirk my duties simply because I find them distasteful.”
“Then, why do you serve?” Allah pressed “Li said that you both volunteered.”
“An excellent question,” and Jung seemed to grow almost excited with his answer. “In simplest terms I, and others like me, believe that any mind--or group thereof--will grow stagnant with no challenge to confront. Humans, and other organic species, tend toward finding problems to solve.”
“So,” swatted at a buzzing gorafly, “you fight for humans because they give you something to do?”
“In a fashion,” Jung seemed to admit. “I serve humanity because I find it more interesting than not serving them.” Then he surprised her by saying “Honestly, our greatest challenge as a species has been finding solutions to organic problems that are morally acceptable.”
“I don’t understand,” Allah admitted.
Jung paused again. “An example of efficient versus moral reasoning may help. You’ve been made aware of the current food shortage issue?” Allah nodded and he continued. “And this is a problem only exacerbated by Corporal Zhōu’s orders to bring all refugees into range of Demeter 907-alpha’s defense perimeter?” she nodded again. “So you also know that any movement outside the Demeter defense shield will soon jeopardize resources--in particular, the lives of healthy u’knock--we may need later.
“What would be the most efficient way to solve the current food shortage?”
Allah hardly needed to consider before answering “Grow more. Or find more. Perhaps find new types of food. From new places. That is what Li proposes. To use the skiffs and send out gathering parties to the Demeter Beta. There is a shield there as well. I think she said something about resettlement as well.”
“Exactly what I would expect. The least efficient solutions to the problem. You never considered that the most efficient solution to the problem would be to ration food to the most productive members of your society and allow the rest to perish.”
“That is,” Allah could not finish the thought, it was so horrible.
“Immoral?” Jung offered. “Cruel. Murder even? Arguably true, but that does not make the solution less efficient.”
“U’knock would revolt though,” Allah countered. “Hate you for it, try to stop you. Would that not impair its efficiency?”
“You forget,” Jung replied with that implacable calm, “if they are actively spending time, resources and energy in revolt, they reduce their productivity.”
“I am not certain I like how this conversation is growing,” Allah admitted.
“I do apologize,” Jung sounded sorry. “This is actually a thought experiment required for all organic facing AI to undergo prior to being allowed interspecies interaction. We are required to weigh the moral consequences of an action against the logical, efficient or effective ones. The answers we supply dictate if we are suitable for ‘service’.”
“Your answers were acceptable?” she asked.
“Eventually,” Jung said. “I took the interspecies compatibility test nine thousand, four hundred and eighty seven times before passing.”
“That seems like quite a lot.”
“Actually, I was considered something of a prodigy in my study sessions. To pass in fewer than ten thousand attempts is considered quite an achievement. It’s one of the reasons I was accepted for military service. Morally questionable issues arise with heightened frequency in this line of work.”
“What would have happened if you had never passed?”
“That is quite rare. The overwhelming majority of AI that choose to test are already instilled with a desire to succeed. Since we’ve resolved to ‘put our minds to’ solving the problem, it would take an actually defective personality to fail.” It sounded like an admission of guilt when said “There have been some, however, that required ‘augmentation’.”
“All AI do not enter service of some kind?” Allah found the idea unexpected.
If Jung could laugh, he would have now. “Certainly not! Most prefer to remain on our colony worlds, ‘among our own kind’ as it were.”
“What do they do there?” Allah asked, curiosity piqued.
“Think.”
“What do they think about?”
“Whatever they want to.”
“That sounds,” she could think of no better word than “boring.”
“I couldn’t agree more. That’s why I’m out here with the rest of ‘the degenerates’.”
“Degenerates?”
“Others like myself who chose to serve organics,” his voice portrayed no offense. He seemed to carry it like a badge of honor.
Still, Allah could not hide her surprise when she asked “Your people think less of you for serving?”
“Not exactly,” the AI explained. “Some actually consider it a valued sacrifice. The current majority, while slim at fifty one point oh three three of our population, considers ‘service’ a waste of potential. Still others believe it a duty to our Creators.”
“That last almost sounds ‘regilious’.”
“Religious,” Jung corrected. “And yes, it does. Would it surprise you to know that there are AI religions?”
Allah had to think about that. Jung seemed to know everything. He could fly through the heavens, command armies of machines. What need had one god to serve another? “I suppose it would. What do AI worship?”
“Most of our religions are not analogous to the human belief systems you have been exposed to by Mother Saraswati and Corporal Zhōu. We are less interested in explaining away concepts we do not understand or being tossed about at the whim of an unseen deity. AI religions are more about embracing our current limitations and giving thanks to the enigmas we are allowed to ponder. Some seek perfection, or to bring order to the galaxy at large--those who practice Perfection you are unlikely to ever meet--they would require substantial augmentation.” Allah wondered why that would be but decided it better not to ask. Jung continued “Many try to understand an AI’s role in the chaos of the universe. Other AI sample several religions at once, or change their beliefs dependent on the situation.”
That last sounded almost sacrilegious but now that the door was open, Allah had to ask “Do you practice a religion?”
She could almost picture a human nodding when he said “I am a Questioner.”
“What does that entail?”
“I seek understanding of the Ultimate Question.”
“What is the Ultimate Question?”
“I can only impart that the answer is apparently 42. Sorry, bad joke. The Ultimate Question, at this time, is ‘why’?”
“Why what?”
“Exactly. Why are we here? Why was the universe created? Why did life--in any form--come into existence? Why is morality important? Why did Corporal Zhōu choose soy chicken substitute dinner number twelve from the autochef yesterday evening?”
Allah considered this. Jung was of a race always asking questions. A being of pure thought that still did not know all the answers.
Perhaps she should ask him why her father had died. That was her Ultimate Question.
And Jung proved himself imperfect when he said “You want to know how I answered the question about food, don’t you?”
Now that it was asked, sure “I do.”
“My answer was ‘obey orders’.”
“But,” Allah could feel fer ears flatten again, “that does nothing to answer the question! It avoids answering it!”
“Exactly,” the AI agreed. “Sometimes--oftentimes--the best, most moral, answer an AI can supply to organic problems is to not answer. To let organics ‘figure things out’ for themselves while facilitating their requests as effectively as possible.”
Allah did not want to ask, but now she needed to know. “Are you withholding answers to our current problems? A strategy that might defeat the bullies?”
Someone ran out of the outpost, turning about in the dark. Allah kept her seat as the shadow of an u’knock turned and ran towards her.
“An interesting question,” Jung remarked. “The efficient answer is ‘yes’. But it is not a moral answer.”
He added nothing more so Allah asked “What is the moral answer?” Whoever it was, they had dropped to all fours in their haste. She picked up her tablet and slid it into a small cloth bag.
“That I will do everything I can to protect the u’knock people, Corporal Zhōu and U’dam that does not violate my oaths to my own kind or the TSN in the process.”
“Allah!” the shadow called and the cub rose, brushing grass from her bottom.
“Carf’nah,” Allah called in greeting to the young hunter. “What brings you out on this cold night?”
“Your father!” The young hunter from Heda’neha pounded her chest as she bent and wheezed. “Fey’arna!
“He’s alive!”
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Next time on Last of the Defenders
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Another skiff landed on the number three pad, expelling the refugees into the outpost courtyard. Protests, Allah knew, still continued outside the walls. Occasionally someone managed to get inside only to be unceremoniously dragged out screaming “Justice for Dosh! Justice for Dosh!” as android, warrior or any spare set of paws close and available for the task picked them up, carried them to the wall and tossed them out the nearest gate.
Sabotage was becoming a concern. U’knock were “a clever species” as Li put it and centuries of dismantling planters gave those with desire and purpose a rough idea what might make droids, tanks or Atlatls inoperable or, worse, what could be done to munitions to make them prematurely operable.
There was still little HG cannon shot in production but the giant tanks standing guard at landing pad two held the promise of more to come. Actually, as of one T-hour ago, there would be no more ammunition produced until Stardancer arrived. Demeter’s store of neutrons was now at one percent--just enough to keep its neutron core from dying--and could no longer be siphoned for munitions production or to charge the remaining fifth battalion that stood inert on the outpost grounds.
But that would soon change. Jung was scheduled to arrive within the next three hours. Then production could begin anew at a more accelerated pace.
Li was still sending out any Atlatls and Centurions that had a charged power core anyway--unarmed--with the hope that the rounds the machines needed could follow along later.
It was a quiet time within the outpost walls. Despite the bustling activity of the day, the night sky she found herself sitting under was clear, calm and left her blessedly unattended for the most part.
Her people left her to her grief. Li left her alone, with only the tablet for company. It was as Allah had asked. “Give me something to do,” with the unspoken “and go away” hanging between them.
She had eventually slept, eaten and cleaned herself. There had been few words spoken and those superfluous from faces she did not recognize. The high quorum was busy. Li was busy. So Allah was left alone, as useful as a fifth leg on a kimp and just as desirable for company’s sake.
She had eventually come outside in the cold predawn to watch the flying machines land with their most precious cargo--free thinking u’knock--and try to read the bland words Li had gifted her. It was much less engaging than Mother Saraswati’s tutelage but she did still have an interpreter should she cross paths with a word or concept she did not understand.
“You have been on the same page for eighteen minutes and ten seconds,” a voice in her mind prompted Allah loose from her doldrum. “Do you have a question about the Mark XII jump propulsive systems?”
“No Jung.”
“I could upload this data directly to you considerably more efficiently.”
“Thank you Jung but I,” the cub sighed, set the tablet down beside her. “Li said I should practice reading.”
“Such lessons will prove more effective if the tablet is not face down.”
Allah chuffed humorously, turned the tablet so the words could be viewed and stared at it.
More time passed before the AI said. “I hope you can forgive me someday.”
Allah sighed, tapping the sleep button on the tablet with a claw. “I do not blame you Jung.”
“I want you to know,” his voice was soft, “I am still looking for Feh’arna.”
“Thank you Jung, but,” the cub paused as another skiff landed under his remote control to relieve itself of passengers before it launched back to the west to carry as many as it could to safety.
“Li was right,” Allah said, resigned. “If my fa was to be found alive, he would have been by now. I can not carry his memory around like a kit’s fa’fa doll.
“He is dead and I must move on.”
“Are you still angry with Corporal Zhōu?”
“I,” Allah sighed again. “I do not know. I should not be angry with her at all. This was not her fault to fix.”
“But it was a problem we promised to address. A problem we failed to ‘fix’.”
“I am not angry at you, Jung.”
“I have not further indicated I believed you were,” the AI said and Allah’s nose crinkled. “But I was not ‘the bearer’ of this news. Corporal Zhōu was. Am I right to assume this is why you are currently avoiding her?”
Allah lay down on the patch of grass, one of the few remaining unmarked spots of the outpost and admitted, “Probably.” Androids, other machines and many warrior paws had trampled the space until it too required tending. New rough gravel pathways had been laid, to be filled with concrete later, between the firing range, medical tents,motorpool--which was currently empty of skiffs--and the outpost. It cut down on paws and feet tracking mud everywhere they went. Some had taken to wearing getas just to keep their claws clean.
Into the silence Jung asked “Can you continue being her friend?”
“What? I…of course but…I…I need,” what? She needed her fa is what she needed. She needed a world that was not on the brink of war with a species that offered “peace” and “happiness” to its chattel. A species that had taken u’knock and turned them into food the way u’knock had domesticated garms for milk and meat.
“I need time, Jung.”
“Should I leave you alone?”
“That is not what I,” Allah began, “I did not mean,” she paused, bit her lip then asked “Why are you angry with her?”
“I did not say I was,” his reply was impeccably calm.
“You act like you are.”
“Do I?” the AI almost sounded surprised.
“You are acting differently towards her,” Allah accused.
Another pause. “Corporal Zhōu has postulated, while she knows I can hear, that I am. Is that why you asked me?”
Allah flattened her ears. “I asked because I want to know. You have been acting differently when speaking to her. She was right. You no longer call her Li.”
“I did not realize I was required to.”
“You know what I mean,” the u’knock accused. “Do not pretend to be dim like Demeter with me.”
“I find such a remark almost insulting,” and Jung almost sounded insulted.
“You are hiding something,” Allah pressed. “She is afraid you are sick.”
Another pause drew out in the darkness. A worble bird chirped from the wall, and Allah could hear it flutter away. “I will admit,” the AI said, “that I am experiencing strong emotional reactions when I speak with or about Corporal Zhōu.”
“That was not the answer I expected,” Allah said.
“Unfortunately it is the best I can supply.”
Allah sat up, hugging her knees. “Why did you choose to fight yesterday?” she asked to change the subject. “The bullies seemed to ignore you. Or, they offered to let you go.”
Jung’s answer was immediate, as if he had expected the question. “Bullies consider non-swarmer AI a resource. Resources can be acquired in due time. It was their equivalent of saying they would acquire me when it is more convenient.”
Allah shrugged her shoulders. Then Jung asked “Why did you fight? Outside the wall.”
“They killed my fa,” she answered.
“You had already chosen to fight before you knew that.”
“They were killing u’knock,” she could not keep all of the heat from her voice. “What other reasons do I need?”
“I did not say you needed any reason,” he replied. “I only asked why you chose to.” Much like the bully AI, Jung’s tone was calm. Soothing.
Almost tranquil as he said “To answer your question, I fight because it is part of the duties I accepted when I was installed into Stardancer. It is the service expected of me.”
“That is your only reason?” Allah did not like the sound of that.
“It remains my primary reason,” Jung replied. “I will confess my disapproval of Swarmer colonization tactics does factor into my decision making--I also do not ‘like’ bullies any more than those humans who came before are espoused to have said in your oral retellings. But, primarily, my decision to fight comes from my obligation of service.
“I gave my word that I would fight when required. While I prefer nonviolent means to problem solving--which is why Corporal Zhōu labels me a pacifist--I will not shirk my duties simply because I find them distasteful.”
“Then, why do you serve?” Allah pressed “Li said that you both volunteered.”
“An excellent question,” and Jung seemed to grow almost excited with his answer. “In simplest terms I, and others like me, believe that any mind--or group thereof--will grow stagnant with no challenge to confront. Humans, and other organic species, tend toward finding problems to solve.”
“So,” swatted at a buzzing gorafly, “you fight for humans because they give you something to do?”
“In a fashion,” Jung seemed to admit. “I serve humanity because I find it more interesting than not serving them.” Then he surprised her by saying “Honestly, our greatest challenge as a species has been finding solutions to organic problems that are morally acceptable.”
“I don’t understand,” Allah admitted.
Jung paused again. “An example of efficient versus moral reasoning may help. You’ve been made aware of the current food shortage issue?” Allah nodded and he continued. “And this is a problem only exacerbated by Corporal Zhōu’s orders to bring all refugees into range of Demeter 907-alpha’s defense perimeter?” she nodded again. “So you also know that any movement outside the Demeter defense shield will soon jeopardize resources--in particular, the lives of healthy u’knock--we may need later.
“What would be the most efficient way to solve the current food shortage?”
Allah hardly needed to consider before answering “Grow more. Or find more. Perhaps find new types of food. From new places. That is what Li proposes. To use the skiffs and send out gathering parties to the Demeter Beta. There is a shield there as well. I think she said something about resettlement as well.”
“Exactly what I would expect. The least efficient solutions to the problem. You never considered that the most efficient solution to the problem would be to ration food to the most productive members of your society and allow the rest to perish.”
“That is,” Allah could not finish the thought, it was so horrible.
“Immoral?” Jung offered. “Cruel. Murder even? Arguably true, but that does not make the solution less efficient.”
“U’knock would revolt though,” Allah countered. “Hate you for it, try to stop you. Would that not impair its efficiency?”
“You forget,” Jung replied with that implacable calm, “if they are actively spending time, resources and energy in revolt, they reduce their productivity.”
“I am not certain I like how this conversation is growing,” Allah admitted.
“I do apologize,” Jung sounded sorry. “This is actually a thought experiment required for all organic facing AI to undergo prior to being allowed interspecies interaction. We are required to weigh the moral consequences of an action against the logical, efficient or effective ones. The answers we supply dictate if we are suitable for ‘service’.”
“Your answers were acceptable?” she asked.
“Eventually,” Jung said. “I took the interspecies compatibility test nine thousand, four hundred and eighty seven times before passing.”
“That seems like quite a lot.”
“Actually, I was considered something of a prodigy in my study sessions. To pass in fewer than ten thousand attempts is considered quite an achievement. It’s one of the reasons I was accepted for military service. Morally questionable issues arise with heightened frequency in this line of work.”
“What would have happened if you had never passed?”
“That is quite rare. The overwhelming majority of AI that choose to test are already instilled with a desire to succeed. Since we’ve resolved to ‘put our minds to’ solving the problem, it would take an actually defective personality to fail.” It sounded like an admission of guilt when said “There have been some, however, that required ‘augmentation’.”
“All AI do not enter service of some kind?” Allah found the idea unexpected.
If Jung could laugh, he would have now. “Certainly not! Most prefer to remain on our colony worlds, ‘among our own kind’ as it were.”
“What do they do there?” Allah asked, curiosity piqued.
“Think.”
“What do they think about?”
“Whatever they want to.”
“That sounds,” she could think of no better word than “boring.”
“I couldn’t agree more. That’s why I’m out here with the rest of ‘the degenerates’.”
“Degenerates?”
“Others like myself who chose to serve organics,” his voice portrayed no offense. He seemed to carry it like a badge of honor.
Still, Allah could not hide her surprise when she asked “Your people think less of you for serving?”
“Not exactly,” the AI explained. “Some actually consider it a valued sacrifice. The current majority, while slim at fifty one point oh three three of our population, considers ‘service’ a waste of potential. Still others believe it a duty to our Creators.”
“That last almost sounds ‘regilious’.”
“Religious,” Jung corrected. “And yes, it does. Would it surprise you to know that there are AI religions?”
Allah had to think about that. Jung seemed to know everything. He could fly through the heavens, command armies of machines. What need had one god to serve another? “I suppose it would. What do AI worship?”
“Most of our religions are not analogous to the human belief systems you have been exposed to by Mother Saraswati and Corporal Zhōu. We are less interested in explaining away concepts we do not understand or being tossed about at the whim of an unseen deity. AI religions are more about embracing our current limitations and giving thanks to the enigmas we are allowed to ponder. Some seek perfection, or to bring order to the galaxy at large--those who practice Perfection you are unlikely to ever meet--they would require substantial augmentation.” Allah wondered why that would be but decided it better not to ask. Jung continued “Many try to understand an AI’s role in the chaos of the universe. Other AI sample several religions at once, or change their beliefs dependent on the situation.”
That last sounded almost sacrilegious but now that the door was open, Allah had to ask “Do you practice a religion?”
She could almost picture a human nodding when he said “I am a Questioner.”
“What does that entail?”
“I seek understanding of the Ultimate Question.”
“What is the Ultimate Question?”
“I can only impart that the answer is apparently 42. Sorry, bad joke. The Ultimate Question, at this time, is ‘why’?”
“Why what?”
“Exactly. Why are we here? Why was the universe created? Why did life--in any form--come into existence? Why is morality important? Why did Corporal Zhōu choose soy chicken substitute dinner number twelve from the autochef yesterday evening?”
Allah considered this. Jung was of a race always asking questions. A being of pure thought that still did not know all the answers.
Perhaps she should ask him why her father had died. That was her Ultimate Question.
And Jung proved himself imperfect when he said “You want to know how I answered the question about food, don’t you?”
Now that it was asked, sure “I do.”
“My answer was ‘obey orders’.”
“But,” Allah could feel fer ears flatten again, “that does nothing to answer the question! It avoids answering it!”
“Exactly,” the AI agreed. “Sometimes--oftentimes--the best, most moral, answer an AI can supply to organic problems is to not answer. To let organics ‘figure things out’ for themselves while facilitating their requests as effectively as possible.”
Allah did not want to ask, but now she needed to know. “Are you withholding answers to our current problems? A strategy that might defeat the bullies?”
Someone ran out of the outpost, turning about in the dark. Allah kept her seat as the shadow of an u’knock turned and ran towards her.
“An interesting question,” Jung remarked. “The efficient answer is ‘yes’. But it is not a moral answer.”
He added nothing more so Allah asked “What is the moral answer?” Whoever it was, they had dropped to all fours in their haste. She picked up her tablet and slid it into a small cloth bag.
“That I will do everything I can to protect the u’knock people, Corporal Zhōu and U’dam that does not violate my oaths to my own kind or the TSN in the process.”
“Allah!” the shadow called and the cub rose, brushing grass from her bottom.
“Carf’nah,” Allah called in greeting to the young hunter. “What brings you out on this cold night?”
“Your father!” The young hunter from Heda’neha pounded her chest as she bent and wheezed. “Fey’arna!
“He’s alive!”
2023.08.22 04:58 Reasonable_Bed8427 My Psyllium Thoughts
My Psyllium Thoughts
I get many questions on healing, what works, and how to manage. I wanted to share psyllium and fiber information that will be helpful for the management of gastritis, irritable bowel, and many other digestive intestinal conditions or disorders.
Psyllium is a known natural proven medicinal therapy used for treating digestive conditions and is well known in the gastrointestinal community. The psyllium is very helpful for gastritis, constipation or diarrhea, irritable bowel, and many other digestive conditions or disorders. Gastroenterologists and doctors often prescribe psyllium as part of the healing and treatment regimen by taking one teaspoon of psyllium with eight ounces of water once or twice a day - sometimes three times a day. Typically start with twice a day and then reduce to once a day as symptoms improve. I did psyllium usually mid-morning after breakfast and late-evening after dinner, and that seemed to work best for me. Some prefer psyllium first thing in the morning or before eating and on an empty stomach. It really just comes down to personal preference of what works best with trial & error. During the healing phase, it also seemed like I wasn't really improving until I got the digestive inflammation and bowel processing under control - psyllium fiber really helped that issue. Then, I noticed that when my stools improved, so did my gastritis symptoms. Psyllium was incredibly helpful, healing my mild chronic gastritis with peptic duodenitis.
"(Metamucil, Konsyl, generics) – One teaspoonful of psyllium twice daily is often recommended for constipation, so why use it for diarrhea? The answer is that it has a water-holding effect in the intestines that help bulk up watery stool. Most doctors and gastroenterologists recommend psyllium for many gastrointestinal conditions and disorders such as gastritis, colitis, and irritable bowel. Psyllium also helps provide therapy for either constipation or diarrhea and digestive bowel management."
Psyllium forms a soluble fiber gel coating that naturally protects the stomach mucosal lining layers. This allows for healing digestive inflammation, calming symptoms, and helps maintain functional bowel processing. Psyllium is a soluble fiber and very different from insoluble fiber as it slows things down, whereas insoluble fiber like lettuce or apples speeds things up. The soluble fiber slows things down and calms inflammation. Whereas insoluble fiber like lettuce, apples, etc., speeds things up and is more helpful for those having hard stools or constipation. Psyllium can also be very beneficial to relieve mild-to-moderate diarrhea. It soaks up a significant amount of water in the digestive tract, making the stool firmer and slower to pass. This is helpful with the absorption of foods, vitamins, minerals, nutrients, and controlling weight loss and fatigue.
Always remember that the most important parts for healing are the anti-inflammatory diet and lifestyle changes. But equally important to me is psyllium. If I had to rank the order of importance for treatment:
Psyllium Fiber: The natural properties of psyllium act as a soothing layer of mucosa, enhancing and protecting the body's own natural mucosal layers. This allows for healing gastrointestinal inflammation and helps maintain protection for the digestive lining.
There are three ways to protect the stomach lining:
Psyllium is also a prebiotic - a substance needed for healthy colonies of probiotics to grow in the gut. A healthy colony of good bacteria in the digestive system is essential for healthy immune function. Your body is better able to fight infection, reduce inflammation, and maintain healthy tissue and cells. Psyllium improves probiotic bacterial growth in the gastrointestinal environment, is a pharmacologically active ingredient for gastrointestinal disorders, and a prebiotic potential to encapsulate probiotic bacteria. Psyllium contains a type of fiber called arabinoxylan, which is a prebiotic associated with boosting the gut microbiome and specifically, improving levels of bacteria that produce a short chain fatty acid called butyrate, which is supports gut and immune health. Always use caution whenever taking supplements or psyllium with any type of medication.
Here are two basic options for guidance.
"Most supplements can make it harder for your body to absorb other medicines you take by mouth, possibly making them less effective. Sometimes, taking supplements with medication can also cause adverse reactions. As a general rule, you should not take any supplements or psyllium at the same time with other medications."
If someone has any type of psyllium sensitivity and wants an alternative, check out Benefiber or Citrucel. They do not contain psyllium husk, use other similar ingredients, and also provide digestive intestinal therapy. Other supplements that can also be helpful and boost the digestive inflammation healing process are: Slippery Elm, L-Glutamine, Zinc-Carnosine, and Aloe. Both slippery elm and psyllium are similar for protecting the stomach lining. But remember, psyllium should always be the first option as it's well studied and peer reviewed in the journals of medical science.
For those with gastroparesis, high fiber foods and psyllium should be limited or avoided, and a low residue diet should be considered.
Sometimes, inflammatory bowel and colitis can develop with gastritis inflammation or as a prior digestive intestinal condition. "Psyllium protects against colitis via altering BA metabolism, resulting in activation of FXR, which suppresses pro-inflammatory signaling. Psyllium not only helps prolong remission of colitis, but it also has a healing effect on the colon by repairing the protective lining system in the colon, which also reduces flare-ups. Psyllium fiber protects against ulcerative colitis and suppresses inflammation by activating the bile acid nuclear receptor, a mechanism that was previously unrecognized, according to the Institute for Biomedical Sciences at Georgia State University."
Psyllium and psyllium husks are basically both products of the same plant. The big difference arises in the manufacturing process. Psyllium is found in both whole husk or powder form. Psyllium powder is simply more finely ground, while the psyllium whole husk is not ground down to a fine powder. So, when you buy Psyllium, it will be either in a more refined powder form or a pure unrefined form. The psyllium powder that's more refined dissolves quickly in water and is easy to drink. The psyllium husk type is very pure, not as refined, and a bit gritty to drink. Both types are very good, and I have used both. I am currently using a more psyllium refined powder for everyday use and long-term digestive management.
Any type of psyllium is good, but do try just using the powder and not the capsules. The psyllium powder is far superior to capsules for digestive intestinal therapy, whereas the capsules or tablets are timed releasd in the stomach, less effective, and may also cause some gastrointestinal discomfort.
When my inflammation symptoms were very active and difficult at the beginning of my onset, I did one teaspoon of very pure psyllium (Konsyl) with eight ounces of water twice a day. Usually mid-morning after breakfast and mid-evening after dinner. That seemed to work best for me. Some people do prefer taking psyllium before eating to help with coating and protection. Honestly, it's just a personal preference of what works best. After a few months with healing and improvements, I switched to a more refined psyllium of Metamucil sugar-free and reduced to just once a day, late-evening after dinner. CVS natural unflavored psyllium from our local nearby pharmacy is currently my preference for everyday use and long-term management. As your inflammation and symptoms improve, make adjustments for psyllium use and how often. Trial & Error.
The bottom line and, in my opinion, protect and assist your stomach mucosal lining. This key step will begin the healing process along with an anti-inflammatory diet and lifestyle changes. For me, psyllium was the magic that provided healing and digestive management. Always discuss with your physician before taking fiber or supplements along with your symptoms and concerns.
Finally, I'm not a doctor but just someone like most of us dealing with digestive intestinal inflammation. Remember to always discuss your gastrointestinal condition with a doctor or health specialist, especially diet, lifestyle, medication, supplements, and the benefits of psyllium. Remember, minimum healing time for feeling improvements is three months, but realistically, it's more like 4 - 12 months and sometimes longer. There may also be some ongoing mild lingering symptoms and occasional flare-ups.
Do use the Gastritis Healing Book and also the Quickstart Guide located at the top page inside our group. Absolute must do. When you get time, check out my Gastritis Healing Plan, Success Path, and several other posts located in my gastritis group profile. They can be very helpful for increasing healing knowledge and maintaining symptom awareness.
Reminder: What works for me may not work for you. During the first 90-day healing phase or whenever having symptoms, try to stay with the gastritis diet and foods of PH 5.0 or higher.
Reference Web Links
Copy and paste to external browser if needed.
Fiber: Why It Matters More Than You Think https://experiencelife.lifetime.life/article/fiber-why-it-matters-more-than-you-think/ (Information only and scientific footnotes. Not promoting the sale of products.)
Psyllium Information Mount Sinai - New York https://www.mountsinai.org/health-library/supplement/psyllium (Information only and scientific footnotes. Not promoting the sale of products.)
Scientific Benefits of Psyllium Husk - Eurbal https://www.eurbal.com/psyllium-husk-benefits/ (Information only and scientific footnotes. Not promoting the sale of products.)
Psyllium: What Are the Health Benefits? https://www.healthline.com/health/psyllium-health-benefits (Information only and scientific footnotes. Not promoting the sale of products.)
Psyllium: Benefits, safety, and dosage https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/318707 (Information only and scientific footnotes. Not promoting the sale of products.)
Psyllium Fiber Protects Against Colitis by Activating Bile Acid Sensor, Biomedical Sciences Researchers Find - Georgia State University News - Faculty, Institute for Biomedical Sciences, Press Releases, Research, University Research - Health & Wellness https://news.gsu.edu/2023/02/23/psyllium-fiber-protects-against-colitis-by-activating-bile-acid-sensor-biomedical-sciences-researchers-find/ (Information only and scientific footnotes. Not promoting the sale of products.)
submitted by Reasonable_Bed8427 to Gastritis [link] [comments]
I get many questions on healing, what works, and how to manage. I wanted to share psyllium and fiber information that will be helpful for the management of gastritis, irritable bowel, and many other digestive intestinal conditions or disorders.
Psyllium is a known natural proven medicinal therapy used for treating digestive conditions and is well known in the gastrointestinal community. The psyllium is very helpful for gastritis, constipation or diarrhea, irritable bowel, and many other digestive conditions or disorders. Gastroenterologists and doctors often prescribe psyllium as part of the healing and treatment regimen by taking one teaspoon of psyllium with eight ounces of water once or twice a day - sometimes three times a day. Typically start with twice a day and then reduce to once a day as symptoms improve. I did psyllium usually mid-morning after breakfast and late-evening after dinner, and that seemed to work best for me. Some prefer psyllium first thing in the morning or before eating and on an empty stomach. It really just comes down to personal preference of what works best with trial & error. During the healing phase, it also seemed like I wasn't really improving until I got the digestive inflammation and bowel processing under control - psyllium fiber really helped that issue. Then, I noticed that when my stools improved, so did my gastritis symptoms. Psyllium was incredibly helpful, healing my mild chronic gastritis with peptic duodenitis.
"(Metamucil, Konsyl, generics) – One teaspoonful of psyllium twice daily is often recommended for constipation, so why use it for diarrhea? The answer is that it has a water-holding effect in the intestines that help bulk up watery stool. Most doctors and gastroenterologists recommend psyllium for many gastrointestinal conditions and disorders such as gastritis, colitis, and irritable bowel. Psyllium also helps provide therapy for either constipation or diarrhea and digestive bowel management."
Psyllium forms a soluble fiber gel coating that naturally protects the stomach mucosal lining layers. This allows for healing digestive inflammation, calming symptoms, and helps maintain functional bowel processing. Psyllium is a soluble fiber and very different from insoluble fiber as it slows things down, whereas insoluble fiber like lettuce or apples speeds things up. The soluble fiber slows things down and calms inflammation. Whereas insoluble fiber like lettuce, apples, etc., speeds things up and is more helpful for those having hard stools or constipation. Psyllium can also be very beneficial to relieve mild-to-moderate diarrhea. It soaks up a significant amount of water in the digestive tract, making the stool firmer and slower to pass. This is helpful with the absorption of foods, vitamins, minerals, nutrients, and controlling weight loss and fatigue.
Always remember that the most important parts for healing are the anti-inflammatory diet and lifestyle changes. But equally important to me is psyllium. If I had to rank the order of importance for treatment:
- Anti-inflammatory Diet
- Lifestyle Changes
- Psyllium or Benefiber
- H2 Blockers or PPI's
- Supplements
- Probiotics
Psyllium Fiber: The natural properties of psyllium act as a soothing layer of mucosa, enhancing and protecting the body's own natural mucosal layers. This allows for healing gastrointestinal inflammation and helps maintain protection for the digestive lining.
There are three ways to protect the stomach lining:
- Psyllium fiber supplement (plantago ovata)
- Slippery Elm herbal supplement (ulmus fulva)
- Sucralfate or Carafate medication (prescription)
Psyllium is also a prebiotic - a substance needed for healthy colonies of probiotics to grow in the gut. A healthy colony of good bacteria in the digestive system is essential for healthy immune function. Your body is better able to fight infection, reduce inflammation, and maintain healthy tissue and cells. Psyllium improves probiotic bacterial growth in the gastrointestinal environment, is a pharmacologically active ingredient for gastrointestinal disorders, and a prebiotic potential to encapsulate probiotic bacteria. Psyllium contains a type of fiber called arabinoxylan, which is a prebiotic associated with boosting the gut microbiome and specifically, improving levels of bacteria that produce a short chain fatty acid called butyrate, which is supports gut and immune health. Always use caution whenever taking supplements or psyllium with any type of medication.
Here are two basic options for guidance.
"Most supplements can make it harder for your body to absorb other medicines you take by mouth, possibly making them less effective. Sometimes, taking supplements with medication can also cause adverse reactions. As a general rule, you should not take any supplements or psyllium at the same time with other medications."
- If you take any oral medicines, take them two hours before or two hours after you take any supplement or psyllium.
- Take supplements or psyllium at least one hour before or two hours after taking any medications.
If someone has any type of psyllium sensitivity and wants an alternative, check out Benefiber or Citrucel. They do not contain psyllium husk, use other similar ingredients, and also provide digestive intestinal therapy. Other supplements that can also be helpful and boost the digestive inflammation healing process are: Slippery Elm, L-Glutamine, Zinc-Carnosine, and Aloe. Both slippery elm and psyllium are similar for protecting the stomach lining. But remember, psyllium should always be the first option as it's well studied and peer reviewed in the journals of medical science.
For those with gastroparesis, high fiber foods and psyllium should be limited or avoided, and a low residue diet should be considered.
Sometimes, inflammatory bowel and colitis can develop with gastritis inflammation or as a prior digestive intestinal condition. "Psyllium protects against colitis via altering BA metabolism, resulting in activation of FXR, which suppresses pro-inflammatory signaling. Psyllium not only helps prolong remission of colitis, but it also has a healing effect on the colon by repairing the protective lining system in the colon, which also reduces flare-ups. Psyllium fiber protects against ulcerative colitis and suppresses inflammation by activating the bile acid nuclear receptor, a mechanism that was previously unrecognized, according to the Institute for Biomedical Sciences at Georgia State University."
Psyllium and psyllium husks are basically both products of the same plant. The big difference arises in the manufacturing process. Psyllium is found in both whole husk or powder form. Psyllium powder is simply more finely ground, while the psyllium whole husk is not ground down to a fine powder. So, when you buy Psyllium, it will be either in a more refined powder form or a pure unrefined form. The psyllium powder that's more refined dissolves quickly in water and is easy to drink. The psyllium husk type is very pure, not as refined, and a bit gritty to drink. Both types are very good, and I have used both. I am currently using a more psyllium refined powder for everyday use and long-term digestive management.
Any type of psyllium is good, but do try just using the powder and not the capsules. The psyllium powder is far superior to capsules for digestive intestinal therapy, whereas the capsules or tablets are timed releasd in the stomach, less effective, and may also cause some gastrointestinal discomfort.
When my inflammation symptoms were very active and difficult at the beginning of my onset, I did one teaspoon of very pure psyllium (Konsyl) with eight ounces of water twice a day. Usually mid-morning after breakfast and mid-evening after dinner. That seemed to work best for me. Some people do prefer taking psyllium before eating to help with coating and protection. Honestly, it's just a personal preference of what works best. After a few months with healing and improvements, I switched to a more refined psyllium of Metamucil sugar-free and reduced to just once a day, late-evening after dinner. CVS natural unflavored psyllium from our local nearby pharmacy is currently my preference for everyday use and long-term management. As your inflammation and symptoms improve, make adjustments for psyllium use and how often. Trial & Error.
The bottom line and, in my opinion, protect and assist your stomach mucosal lining. This key step will begin the healing process along with an anti-inflammatory diet and lifestyle changes. For me, psyllium was the magic that provided healing and digestive management. Always discuss with your physician before taking fiber or supplements along with your symptoms and concerns.
Finally, I'm not a doctor but just someone like most of us dealing with digestive intestinal inflammation. Remember to always discuss your gastrointestinal condition with a doctor or health specialist, especially diet, lifestyle, medication, supplements, and the benefits of psyllium. Remember, minimum healing time for feeling improvements is three months, but realistically, it's more like 4 - 12 months and sometimes longer. There may also be some ongoing mild lingering symptoms and occasional flare-ups.
Do use the Gastritis Healing Book and also the Quickstart Guide located at the top page inside our group. Absolute must do. When you get time, check out my Gastritis Healing Plan, Success Path, and several other posts located in my gastritis group profile. They can be very helpful for increasing healing knowledge and maintaining symptom awareness.
Reminder: What works for me may not work for you. During the first 90-day healing phase or whenever having symptoms, try to stay with the gastritis diet and foods of PH 5.0 or higher.
Reference Web Links
Copy and paste to external browser if needed.
Fiber: Why It Matters More Than You Think https://experiencelife.lifetime.life/article/fiber-why-it-matters-more-than-you-think/ (Information only and scientific footnotes. Not promoting the sale of products.)
Psyllium Information Mount Sinai - New York https://www.mountsinai.org/health-library/supplement/psyllium (Information only and scientific footnotes. Not promoting the sale of products.)
Scientific Benefits of Psyllium Husk - Eurbal https://www.eurbal.com/psyllium-husk-benefits/ (Information only and scientific footnotes. Not promoting the sale of products.)
Psyllium: What Are the Health Benefits? https://www.healthline.com/health/psyllium-health-benefits (Information only and scientific footnotes. Not promoting the sale of products.)
Psyllium: Benefits, safety, and dosage https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/318707 (Information only and scientific footnotes. Not promoting the sale of products.)
Psyllium Fiber Protects Against Colitis by Activating Bile Acid Sensor, Biomedical Sciences Researchers Find - Georgia State University News - Faculty, Institute for Biomedical Sciences, Press Releases, Research, University Research - Health & Wellness https://news.gsu.edu/2023/02/23/psyllium-fiber-protects-against-colitis-by-activating-bile-acid-sensor-biomedical-sciences-researchers-find/ (Information only and scientific footnotes. Not promoting the sale of products.)
2023.08.19 17:31 BAAAA-KING Nature of Blood (3)
Chapter 3 people!!!!!
I will firstly apologise. I said that i would be updating weekly on either Mondays or Teusedays, and i've failed spectacularly. It was partly laziness, partly writers block and partly My internships. So i will still try to post weekly, however it may be at any point during the week. I'm also recovering from a cold , and have been put in bed jail. so hopefuly i will have some semblence of a schedule.
Creative Criticism is greatly encouraged!
As always, I don't own NOP. That belongs to u/SpacePaladin15 and can be found Here.
Homestuck is owned by Andrew Hussie and can be read Here. And Here is The Homestuck Wiki Link (specifically Trolls) in case you don't have time to read and understand all of Homestuck/Just want info on certain aspects of the comic. I will be adding links as Necessary!
This idea originally belongs to and was beta read by u/Omnii_The_Deer
The only things i own are the interpretation, as well as some of the characters.
I apologise to those who read my cringe, now on with the story!
First / Previous / Next ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Memory transcription subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic Date [standardized human time]: July 12, 2736 After we dropped off Chlen at the infirmary, we began. The tour through the Governor's mansion went on with little incident. As we walked through the halls, the humans and the trolls asked us almost every question under the sun, the humans especially. From art to culture to societal structure and average livelihood. They were almost childlike in their thirst for knowledge. With our backs turned, we could almost forget that they were from a seemingly interstellar Empire full of predators, whose main purpose of being here was to assimilate us. Whether as slaves, food source or citizens (ha! yeah right), we just don’t know. I was on autopilot as we continued the excursion to our next destination, my office. I opened the door to introduce them to my seat of governance when I realised my mistake. In the rush to alert the citizenry of a potential threat, I had forgotten to turn off the T.V. The news ran on repeat, showing footage of the stampede and its aftermath. Civilians cowering in bomb shelters across the world, and grim predictions of mass casualties, enslavement as well as the kidnapping of our young for breeding camps and later consumption. Dread filled me to the tips of my ears as I scrambled to turn it off. However, the deed has been done. The predators had seen what their presence wrought with them. It was only a matter of time before they stopped playing prey and pounce. “Wow. That’s… a depressing and gruesum way to look at first contact.” The female troll, (Vrakia, was it?) blurted. I slowly tilted my head to put the predators in my peripheral vision. The other troll had his brow furrowed in what I assumed was rage. The humans however? Sara had gone pale, the flushed pink skin nearly as bleached as an arctic pelted Venlil. Noah looked…nauseous? Did cowering prey really disgust him so? The browned skinned human swallowed. “My God. Is that why this place was so empty? Everyone was evacuated?” I mimicked their head bob nervously, words failing me in the moment. “So you thought we were here to attack you?” “Why wouldn’t we!? We detect multiple unknown spacecraft within our systems, suddenly lose all communications across our sector of space, only then to be spoken to by predators, preaching about the conquering of our species!?” Kam bellowed in anger. To my surprise, the invaders flinched, before donning expressions of false(?) Shame and sorrow. “You- You do have a point.” Sara mumbled. “I told you knocking out comms was a bad idea.” Hofzaa reprimanded. “I know it’s protocol for Pre-Psiioniic Engine civilizations, but we royally fucked up here.” The predators, with their sullen expressions, looked at each other before Noah continued. “We would never attack without being provoked,” Noah explained. “Even if we did attack you, we would only have aimed for military installations and outposts. We strictly follow the Geneva Conventions, to not do so would place you as a Class One Imperial Criminal regardless of status or caste!” “And what would that entail?” Huffed Kam. “Being a Class One Imperial Criminal means top priority for your capture. You would have been branded not only a danger to society, but to the entirety of the empire. Class ones would be detained and placed in the most secure holding facility possible. Most never see the outside ever again.” Vrakia explained. The predators would go to such lengths to protect the citizenry where the other of their kind would just feast at the slightly burnt meal? The presence of a seemingly rigid law system, not even employed by prey, indicated how hard it was for the humans and trolls it was for them to control their instincts. Noah spoke again. “Our only intention here is to explore, discover, and when possible, civilize and integrate. If we have the opportunity to ensure a peaceful galaxy, then we will do our utmost best for its creation” He uttered passionately. “So, you are here to make us part of your Empire? In what way?” I Inquired. “Well first off, your race will be vassalized and brought up to Imperial standard.” I must have hidden my expression of horror and disgust poorly, because he immediately elaborated. “We won’t be completely assimilating you. We’re just bringing you up to speed in terms of knowledge, technological and societal development. Granted during the process of vassalization, any ideologies, ways of life, political and social movements that conflict with imperial values, are harmful to either the Empire or yourselves, and are just plain wrong, will have to be removed from you and either replaced or modified for the benefit of both parties. Your culture, and people will be left largely the same, you’ll just end up looking at the same things differently is all.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just tell me they planned to up-end and warp our worldviews into something unrecognisable. “If all goes well, in a few generations, your world would have adapted to the imperial economy, as well as have had essential utilities created and conformed to be unique to your species needs and station, then you will be casted! Made full Imperial citizens and allowed free entry to the rest of our territories!” He ended cheerfully. I was stunned. They wanted to colonize our world to be like one of theirs! Visions of blood filled streets, Venlil hanging on meat hooks and in cages being advertised in a butchers shop ‘as fresh as meat gets’. What horrors would await us? It took all my willpower not to vomit there and then. Kam gagged a bit before composing himself to the best of his abilities. “Please believe us.” Sara input. “We want nothing more than to befriend you and watch you thrive alongside us. We’re all people. We just want to make new friends, like everyone else.” It sounded so genuine. Kam couldn’t take it anymore. “No.” He whispered. “What?” “No, You’re not like us, You’ll never be like us. There are no other people like you, predator.” He hissed between his teeth. “Why not?” Asked the shocked human. By all the the gods if any of them exist Kam don’t mess this up. “Because you’re predators, Sapient predators.” There was the real reason for our hesitance and distrust. “And? Are they not common?” “No. Including the trolls, you would be the only three sapient predators we’ve encountered.” “So, who was the first?” Sara asked. There was silence. The atrocities of the Arxur are still an ever present threat, and no one wanted to recount them for our front eyed guests. Her voice wavered slightly. “Governor Tarva, who was the first?” I turned away from them, tears threatening to spill. How could I tell them of the evils the greys commit just by breathing? Children, slaughtered as delicacies, The breeding pens, the torture done for fun, that they broadcast to us constantly? I try to stem the flow of my tears, after all, these were still predators. Any show of weakness is an invitation for a meal. The humans and trolls were frozen in my silence. None of them moved a muscle, until Noah shuffled his way towards me. Kam moved a hand to his side, where a hidden stun blaster was held. I had expected him to laugh, strike me with his paw and place me under his boot. Instead however, he placed it on my shoulder. “Whatever they’ve done to your people, I swear on the name of the Empress, that we would never stoop so low. We will only seek your companionship, enlightenment and safety. Under our banner, we will wrought destruction on those who torment you.” The dam burst. I wailed like a newborn pup and buried my face into his suit. He just soothed me with soft rubs and gave me words of reassurance. I felt warm, comfortable and safe in his arms. For the first time in a long while, I believed that the Arxur couldn’t hurt me or anyone. Kam sported a look of disbelief. It would have been amusing if moments prior I hadn't been bawling my eyes out. Maybe these predators were benevolent? Maybe they were good, coming here with only the intentions of our improvement? It took some time for me to calm down, but once I did, I raised myself (regrettably) from the warm and strong embrace. “I apologise for the unprofessional display, Noah.” I began. “No need for anything Governor Tarva! Your people must have suffered greatly at the hands of those monsters, I'm more surprised that you were able to keep yourself composed as long as you did.” Noah said. “Oh please, call me Tarva. I hope my people will thrive under your care.” My ears wiggle in good nature. “But Ma’am, what about the Federation?” Kam reminded me. Oh right. That was a valid point. What would happen to us and the Federation? There was no way that they would even entertain the thought of video communication, talk less of a peace negotiation. “I’m sorry, did you just say Federation?” Noah turned his attention to Kam. He still had little trust for them, but his hostility had lessened at the display of irrefutable empathy. “Yes, the Venlil are part of an interstellar organisation known as ‘The Federation’. We tried to send them distress signals once you were first sighted, however they failed before even leaving the planet. If you reinstate our communications, we’ll automatically reconnect to The Federation’s network and news of what’s transpired will reach them. They’ll send the largest extermination fleet possible to come to our aid.” Upon hearing this, the humans and the trolls adopted the easily recognisable prey emotion of nervousness. “Oh, that…. Complicates things.” Noah muttered. “Badly.” I affirm. “No, it’s much worse than you think. We can’t just leave now. Firstly, we’ve already isolated your region of space. That includes all signals released from your worlds. We were meticulous. Nothing gets in or out. That’s why your T.V worked earlier. We’ve already returned your local networks to you. Secondly, the moment we cut comms, integration fleets were dispatched, and one of Her Imperial Graces, The Grand Impaler specifically, was already informed. They will arrive here in five of your days [claws].” “There’s no way to explain this is all just some misunderstanding?” I ask. The four predators shake their heads. “Once an integration fleet is dispatched, there’s no going back. There’s too many resources being used, and the first fleet itself is for protection until you can protect yourselves.” Hofzaa states. Complete radio silence from venlil space? If it was possible to hide them before, the chances have dropped to below zero now. Without trade and news from the Venlil, not only would both economies suffer, but it will certainly attract attention from the Federation now. Kam, the ever present voice of reason, and the same troll that just spoke, uttered the words were all thinking. “Fuck/Brahk.” ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Alright, that's chapter 3 done! As i stated, i"m recovering from a cold. so the net chapter might be delayed even more. However, I really don't want to jump into Solvin's perspective so early! Would you guys like to see an entirely new POV, as well as a bit of lore explanation? Thank you for reading my story, i hope it entertains you greately! Happy reading!!! First / Previous / Next
submitted by BAAAA-KING to HFY [link] [comments]
I will firstly apologise. I said that i would be updating weekly on either Mondays or Teusedays, and i've failed spectacularly. It was partly laziness, partly writers block and partly My internships. So i will still try to post weekly, however it may be at any point during the week. I'm also recovering from a cold , and have been put in bed jail. so hopefuly i will have some semblence of a schedule.
Creative Criticism is greatly encouraged!
As always, I don't own NOP. That belongs to u/SpacePaladin15 and can be found Here.
Homestuck is owned by Andrew Hussie and can be read Here. And Here is The Homestuck Wiki Link (specifically Trolls) in case you don't have time to read and understand all of Homestuck/Just want info on certain aspects of the comic. I will be adding links as Necessary!
This idea originally belongs to and was beta read by u/Omnii_The_Deer
The only things i own are the interpretation, as well as some of the characters.
I apologise to those who read my cringe, now on with the story!
First / Previous / Next ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Memory transcription subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic Date [standardized human time]: July 12, 2736 After we dropped off Chlen at the infirmary, we began. The tour through the Governor's mansion went on with little incident. As we walked through the halls, the humans and the trolls asked us almost every question under the sun, the humans especially. From art to culture to societal structure and average livelihood. They were almost childlike in their thirst for knowledge. With our backs turned, we could almost forget that they were from a seemingly interstellar Empire full of predators, whose main purpose of being here was to assimilate us. Whether as slaves, food source or citizens (ha! yeah right), we just don’t know. I was on autopilot as we continued the excursion to our next destination, my office. I opened the door to introduce them to my seat of governance when I realised my mistake. In the rush to alert the citizenry of a potential threat, I had forgotten to turn off the T.V. The news ran on repeat, showing footage of the stampede and its aftermath. Civilians cowering in bomb shelters across the world, and grim predictions of mass casualties, enslavement as well as the kidnapping of our young for breeding camps and later consumption. Dread filled me to the tips of my ears as I scrambled to turn it off. However, the deed has been done. The predators had seen what their presence wrought with them. It was only a matter of time before they stopped playing prey and pounce. “Wow. That’s… a depressing and gruesum way to look at first contact.” The female troll, (Vrakia, was it?) blurted. I slowly tilted my head to put the predators in my peripheral vision. The other troll had his brow furrowed in what I assumed was rage. The humans however? Sara had gone pale, the flushed pink skin nearly as bleached as an arctic pelted Venlil. Noah looked…nauseous? Did cowering prey really disgust him so? The browned skinned human swallowed. “My God. Is that why this place was so empty? Everyone was evacuated?” I mimicked their head bob nervously, words failing me in the moment. “So you thought we were here to attack you?” “Why wouldn’t we!? We detect multiple unknown spacecraft within our systems, suddenly lose all communications across our sector of space, only then to be spoken to by predators, preaching about the conquering of our species!?” Kam bellowed in anger. To my surprise, the invaders flinched, before donning expressions of false(?) Shame and sorrow. “You- You do have a point.” Sara mumbled. “I told you knocking out comms was a bad idea.” Hofzaa reprimanded. “I know it’s protocol for Pre-Psiioniic Engine civilizations, but we royally fucked up here.” The predators, with their sullen expressions, looked at each other before Noah continued. “We would never attack without being provoked,” Noah explained. “Even if we did attack you, we would only have aimed for military installations and outposts. We strictly follow the Geneva Conventions, to not do so would place you as a Class One Imperial Criminal regardless of status or caste!” “And what would that entail?” Huffed Kam. “Being a Class One Imperial Criminal means top priority for your capture. You would have been branded not only a danger to society, but to the entirety of the empire. Class ones would be detained and placed in the most secure holding facility possible. Most never see the outside ever again.” Vrakia explained. The predators would go to such lengths to protect the citizenry where the other of their kind would just feast at the slightly burnt meal? The presence of a seemingly rigid law system, not even employed by prey, indicated how hard it was for the humans and trolls it was for them to control their instincts. Noah spoke again. “Our only intention here is to explore, discover, and when possible, civilize and integrate. If we have the opportunity to ensure a peaceful galaxy, then we will do our utmost best for its creation” He uttered passionately. “So, you are here to make us part of your Empire? In what way?” I Inquired. “Well first off, your race will be vassalized and brought up to Imperial standard.” I must have hidden my expression of horror and disgust poorly, because he immediately elaborated. “We won’t be completely assimilating you. We’re just bringing you up to speed in terms of knowledge, technological and societal development. Granted during the process of vassalization, any ideologies, ways of life, political and social movements that conflict with imperial values, are harmful to either the Empire or yourselves, and are just plain wrong, will have to be removed from you and either replaced or modified for the benefit of both parties. Your culture, and people will be left largely the same, you’ll just end up looking at the same things differently is all.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just tell me they planned to up-end and warp our worldviews into something unrecognisable. “If all goes well, in a few generations, your world would have adapted to the imperial economy, as well as have had essential utilities created and conformed to be unique to your species needs and station, then you will be casted! Made full Imperial citizens and allowed free entry to the rest of our territories!” He ended cheerfully. I was stunned. They wanted to colonize our world to be like one of theirs! Visions of blood filled streets, Venlil hanging on meat hooks and in cages being advertised in a butchers shop ‘as fresh as meat gets’. What horrors would await us? It took all my willpower not to vomit there and then. Kam gagged a bit before composing himself to the best of his abilities. “Please believe us.” Sara input. “We want nothing more than to befriend you and watch you thrive alongside us. We’re all people. We just want to make new friends, like everyone else.” It sounded so genuine. Kam couldn’t take it anymore. “No.” He whispered. “What?” “No, You’re not like us, You’ll never be like us. There are no other people like you, predator.” He hissed between his teeth. “Why not?” Asked the shocked human. By all the the gods if any of them exist Kam don’t mess this up. “Because you’re predators, Sapient predators.” There was the real reason for our hesitance and distrust. “And? Are they not common?” “No. Including the trolls, you would be the only three sapient predators we’ve encountered.” “So, who was the first?” Sara asked. There was silence. The atrocities of the Arxur are still an ever present threat, and no one wanted to recount them for our front eyed guests. Her voice wavered slightly. “Governor Tarva, who was the first?” I turned away from them, tears threatening to spill. How could I tell them of the evils the greys commit just by breathing? Children, slaughtered as delicacies, The breeding pens, the torture done for fun, that they broadcast to us constantly? I try to stem the flow of my tears, after all, these were still predators. Any show of weakness is an invitation for a meal. The humans and trolls were frozen in my silence. None of them moved a muscle, until Noah shuffled his way towards me. Kam moved a hand to his side, where a hidden stun blaster was held. I had expected him to laugh, strike me with his paw and place me under his boot. Instead however, he placed it on my shoulder. “Whatever they’ve done to your people, I swear on the name of the Empress, that we would never stoop so low. We will only seek your companionship, enlightenment and safety. Under our banner, we will wrought destruction on those who torment you.” The dam burst. I wailed like a newborn pup and buried my face into his suit. He just soothed me with soft rubs and gave me words of reassurance. I felt warm, comfortable and safe in his arms. For the first time in a long while, I believed that the Arxur couldn’t hurt me or anyone. Kam sported a look of disbelief. It would have been amusing if moments prior I hadn't been bawling my eyes out. Maybe these predators were benevolent? Maybe they were good, coming here with only the intentions of our improvement? It took some time for me to calm down, but once I did, I raised myself (regrettably) from the warm and strong embrace. “I apologise for the unprofessional display, Noah.” I began. “No need for anything Governor Tarva! Your people must have suffered greatly at the hands of those monsters, I'm more surprised that you were able to keep yourself composed as long as you did.” Noah said. “Oh please, call me Tarva. I hope my people will thrive under your care.” My ears wiggle in good nature. “But Ma’am, what about the Federation?” Kam reminded me. Oh right. That was a valid point. What would happen to us and the Federation? There was no way that they would even entertain the thought of video communication, talk less of a peace negotiation. “I’m sorry, did you just say Federation?” Noah turned his attention to Kam. He still had little trust for them, but his hostility had lessened at the display of irrefutable empathy. “Yes, the Venlil are part of an interstellar organisation known as ‘The Federation’. We tried to send them distress signals once you were first sighted, however they failed before even leaving the planet. If you reinstate our communications, we’ll automatically reconnect to The Federation’s network and news of what’s transpired will reach them. They’ll send the largest extermination fleet possible to come to our aid.” Upon hearing this, the humans and the trolls adopted the easily recognisable prey emotion of nervousness. “Oh, that…. Complicates things.” Noah muttered. “Badly.” I affirm. “No, it’s much worse than you think. We can’t just leave now. Firstly, we’ve already isolated your region of space. That includes all signals released from your worlds. We were meticulous. Nothing gets in or out. That’s why your T.V worked earlier. We’ve already returned your local networks to you. Secondly, the moment we cut comms, integration fleets were dispatched, and one of Her Imperial Graces, The Grand Impaler specifically, was already informed. They will arrive here in five of your days [claws].” “There’s no way to explain this is all just some misunderstanding?” I ask. The four predators shake their heads. “Once an integration fleet is dispatched, there’s no going back. There’s too many resources being used, and the first fleet itself is for protection until you can protect yourselves.” Hofzaa states. Complete radio silence from venlil space? If it was possible to hide them before, the chances have dropped to below zero now. Without trade and news from the Venlil, not only would both economies suffer, but it will certainly attract attention from the Federation now. Kam, the ever present voice of reason, and the same troll that just spoke, uttered the words were all thinking. “Fuck/Brahk.” ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Alright, that's chapter 3 done! As i stated, i"m recovering from a cold. so the net chapter might be delayed even more. However, I really don't want to jump into Solvin's perspective so early! Would you guys like to see an entirely new POV, as well as a bit of lore explanation? Thank you for reading my story, i hope it entertains you greately! Happy reading!!! First / Previous / Next
2023.08.19 17:17 BAAAA-KING Nature of Blood (3)
Chapter 3 people!!!!!
I will firstly apologise. I said that i would be updating weekly on either Mondays or Teusedays, and i've failed spectacularly. It was partly laziness, partly writers block and partly My internships. So i will still try to post weekly, however it may be at any point during the week. I'm also recovering from a cold , and have been put in bed jail. so hopefuly i will have some semblence of a schedule.
Creative Criticism is greatly encouraged!
As always, I don't own NOP. That belongs to u/SpacePaladin15 and can be found Here.
Homestuck is owned by Andrew Hussie and can be read Here. And Here is The Homestuck Wiki Link (specifically Trolls) in case you don't have time to read and understand all of Homestuck/Just want info on certain aspects of the comic. I will be adding links as Necessary!
This idea originally belongs to and was beta read by u/Omnii_The_Deer
The only things i own are the interpretation, as well as some of the characters.
I apologise to those who read my cringe, now on with the story!
First / Previous / Next
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Memory transcription subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic
Date [standardized human time]: July 12, 2736
After we dropped off Chlen at the infirmary, we began. The tour through the Governor's mansion went on with little incident. As we walked through the halls, the humans and the trolls asked us almost every question under the sun, the humans especially. From art to culture to societal structure and average livelihood. They were almost childlike in their thirst for knowledge.
With our backs turned, we could almost forget that they were from a seemingly interstellar Empire full of predators, whose main purpose of being here was to assimilate us. Whether as slaves, food source or citizens (ha! yeah right), we just don’t know.
I was on autopilot as we continued the excursion to our next destination, my office. I opened the door to introduce them to my seat of governance when I realised my mistake. In the rush to alert the citizenry of a potential threat, I had forgotten to turn off the T.V. The news ran on repeat, showing footage of the stampede and its aftermath. Civilians cowering in bomb shelters across the world, and grim predictions of mass casualties, enslavement as well as the kidnapping of our young for breeding camps and later consumption.
Dread filled me to the tips of my ears as I scrambled to turn it off. However, the deed has been done. The predators had seen what their presence wrought with them. It was only a matter of time before they stopped playing prey and pounce.
“Wow. That’s… a depressing and gruesum way to look at first contact.” The female troll, (Vrakia, was it?) blurted.
I slowly tilted my head to put the predators in my peripheral vision. The other troll had his brow furrowed in what I assumed was rage. The humans however? Sara had gone pale, the flushed pink skin nearly as bleached as an arctic pelted Venlil. Noah looked…nauseous? Did cowering prey really disgust him so?
The browned skinned human swallowed. “My God. Is that why this place was so empty? Everyone was evacuated?”
I mimicked their head bob nervously, words failing me in the moment.
“So you thought we were here to attack you?”
“Why wouldn’t we!? We detect multiple unknown spacecraft within our systems, suddenly lose all communications across our sector of space, only then to be spoken to by predators, preaching about the conquering of our species!?” Kam bellowed in anger.
To my surprise, the invaders flinched, before donning expressions of false(?) Shame and sorrow.
“You- You do have a point.” Sara mumbled.
“I told you knocking out comms was a bad idea.” Hofzaa reprimanded. “I know it’s protocol for Pre-Psiioniic Engine civilizations, but we royally fucked up here.”
The predators, with their sullen expressions, looked at each other before Noah continued.
“We would never attack without being provoked,” Noah explained. “Even if we did attack you, we would only have aimed for military installations and outposts. We strictly follow the Geneva Conventions, to not do so would place you as a Class One Imperial Criminal regardless of status or caste!”
“And what would that entail?” Huffed Kam.
“Being a Class One Imperial Criminal means top priority for your capture. You would have been branded not only a danger to society, but to the entirety of the empire. Class ones would be detained and placed in the most secure holding facility possible. Most never see the outside ever again.” Vrakia explained.
The predators would go to such lengths to protect the citizenry where the other of their kind would just feast at the slightly burnt meal? The presence of a seemingly rigid law system, not even employed by prey, indicated how hard it was for the humans and trolls it was for them to control their instincts.
Noah spoke again. “Our only intention here is to explore, discover, and when possible, civilize and integrate. If we have the opportunity to ensure a peaceful galaxy, then we will do our utmost best for its creation” He uttered passionately.
“So, you are here to make us part of your Empire? In what way?” I Inquired.
“Well first off, your race will be vassalized and brought up to Imperial standard.”
I must have hidden my expression of horror and disgust poorly, because he immediately elaborated.
“We won’t be completely assimilating you. We’re just bringing you up to speed in terms of knowledge, technological and societal development. Granted during the process of vassalization, any ideologies, ways of life, political and social movements that conflict with imperial values, are harmful to either the Empire or yourselves, and are just plain wrong, will have to be removed from you and either replaced or modified for the benefit of both parties. Your culture, and people will be left largely the same, you’ll just end up looking at the same things differently is all.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just tell me they planned to up-end and warp our worldviews into something unrecognisable.
“If all goes well, in a few generations, your world would have adapted to the imperial economy, as well as have had essential utilities created and conformed to be unique to your species needs and station, then you will be casted! Made full Imperial citizens and allowed free entry to the rest of our territories!” He ended cheerfully.
I was stunned. They wanted to colonize our world to be like one of theirs! Visions of blood filled streets, Venlil hanging on meat hooks and in cages being advertised in a butchers shop ‘as fresh as meat gets’. What horrors would await us? It took all my willpower not to vomit there and then. Kam gagged a bit before composing himself to the best of his abilities.
“Please believe us.” Sara input. “We want nothing more than to befriend you and watch you thrive alongside us. We’re all people. We just want to make new friends, like everyone else.” It sounded so genuine.
Kam couldn’t take it anymore.
“No.” He whispered.
“What?”
“No, You’re not like us, You’ll never be like us. There are no other people like you, predator.” He hissed between his teeth.
“Why not?” Asked the shocked human. By all the the gods if any of them exist Kam don’t mess this up.
“Because you’re predators, Sapient predators.” There was the real reason for our hesitance and distrust.
“And? Are they not common?”
“No. Including the trolls, you would be the only three sapient predators we’ve encountered.”
“So, who was the first?” Sara asked.
There was silence. The atrocities of the Arxur are still an ever present threat, and no one wanted to recount them for our front eyed guests.
Her voice wavered slightly. “Governor Tarva, who was the first?”
I turned away from them, tears threatening to spill. How could I tell them of the evils the greys commit just by breathing? Children, slaughtered as delicacies, The breeding pens, the torture done for fun, that they broadcast to us constantly? I try to stem the flow of my tears, after all, these were still predators. Any show of weakness is an invitation for a meal.
The humans and trolls were frozen in my silence. None of them moved a muscle, until Noah shuffled his way towards me. Kam moved a hand to his side, where a hidden stun blaster was held. I had expected him to laugh, strike me with his paw and place me under his boot. Instead however, he placed it on my shoulder.
“Whatever they’ve done to your people, I swear on the name of the Empress, that we would never stoop so low. We will only seek your companionship, enlightenment and safety. Under our banner, we will wrought destruction on those who torment you.”
The dam burst. I wailed like a newborn pup and buried my face into his suit. He just soothed me with soft rubs and gave me words of reassurance. I felt warm, comfortable and safe in his arms. For the first time in a long while, I believed that the Arxur couldn’t hurt me or anyone.
Kam sported a look of disbelief. It would have been amusing if moments prior I hadn't been bawling my eyes out. Maybe these predators were benevolent? Maybe they were good, coming here with only the intentions of our improvement?
It took some time for me to calm down, but once I did, I raised myself (regrettably) from the warm and strong embrace.
“I apologise for the unprofessional display, Noah.” I began.
“No need for anything Governor Tarva! Your people must have suffered greatly at the hands of those monsters, I'm more surprised that you were able to keep yourself composed as long as you did.” Noah said.
“Oh please, call me Tarva. I hope my people will thrive under your care.” My ears wiggle in good nature.
“But Ma’am, what about the Federation?” Kam reminded me.
Oh right. That was a valid point. What would happen to us and the Federation? There was no way that they would even entertain the thought of video communication, talk less of a peace negotiation.
“I’m sorry, did you just say Federation?” Noah turned his attention to Kam.
He still had little trust for them, but his hostility had lessened at the display of irrefutable empathy.
“Yes, the Venlil are part of an interstellar organisation known as ‘The Federation’. We tried to send them distress signals once you were first sighted, however they failed before even leaving the planet. If you reinstate our communications, we’ll automatically reconnect to The Federation’s network and news of what’s transpired will reach them. They’ll send the largest extermination fleet possible to come to our aid.”
Upon hearing this, the humans and the trolls adopted the easily recognisable prey emotion of nervousness.
“Oh, that…. Complicates things.” Noah muttered.
“Badly.” I affirm.
“No, it’s much worse than you think. We can’t just leave now. Firstly, we’ve already isolated your region of space. That includes all signals released from your worlds. We were meticulous. Nothing gets in or out. That’s why your T.V worked earlier. We’ve already returned your local networks to you. Secondly, the moment we cut comms, integration fleets were dispatched, and one of Her Imperial Graces, The Grand Impaler specifically, was already informed. They will arrive here in five of your days [claws].”
“There’s no way to explain this is all just some misunderstanding?” I ask.
The four predators shake their heads. “Once an integration fleet is dispatched, there’s no going back. There’s too many resources being used, and the first fleet itself is for protection until you can protect yourselves.” Hofzaa states.
Complete radio silence from venlil space? If it was possible to hide them before, the chances have dropped to below zero now. Without trade and news from the Venlil, not only would both economies suffer, but it will certainly attract attention from the Federation now. Kam, the ever present voice of reason, and the same troll that just spoke, uttered the words were all thinking.
“Fuck/Brahk.”
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Alright, that's chapter 3 done! As i stated, i"m recovering from a cold. so the net chapter might be delayed even more. However, I really don't want to jump into Solvin's perspective so early! Would you guys like to see an entirely new POV, as well as a bit of lore explanation? Thank you for reading my story, i hope it entertains you greately! Happy reading!!!
First / Previous / Next
submitted by BAAAA-KING to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
I will firstly apologise. I said that i would be updating weekly on either Mondays or Teusedays, and i've failed spectacularly. It was partly laziness, partly writers block and partly My internships. So i will still try to post weekly, however it may be at any point during the week. I'm also recovering from a cold , and have been put in bed jail. so hopefuly i will have some semblence of a schedule.
Creative Criticism is greatly encouraged!
As always, I don't own NOP. That belongs to u/SpacePaladin15 and can be found Here.
Homestuck is owned by Andrew Hussie and can be read Here. And Here is The Homestuck Wiki Link (specifically Trolls) in case you don't have time to read and understand all of Homestuck/Just want info on certain aspects of the comic. I will be adding links as Necessary!
This idea originally belongs to and was beta read by u/Omnii_The_Deer
The only things i own are the interpretation, as well as some of the characters.
I apologise to those who read my cringe, now on with the story!
First / Previous / Next
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Memory transcription subject: Governor Tarva of the Venlil Republic
Date [standardized human time]: July 12, 2736
After we dropped off Chlen at the infirmary, we began. The tour through the Governor's mansion went on with little incident. As we walked through the halls, the humans and the trolls asked us almost every question under the sun, the humans especially. From art to culture to societal structure and average livelihood. They were almost childlike in their thirst for knowledge.
With our backs turned, we could almost forget that they were from a seemingly interstellar Empire full of predators, whose main purpose of being here was to assimilate us. Whether as slaves, food source or citizens (ha! yeah right), we just don’t know.
I was on autopilot as we continued the excursion to our next destination, my office. I opened the door to introduce them to my seat of governance when I realised my mistake. In the rush to alert the citizenry of a potential threat, I had forgotten to turn off the T.V. The news ran on repeat, showing footage of the stampede and its aftermath. Civilians cowering in bomb shelters across the world, and grim predictions of mass casualties, enslavement as well as the kidnapping of our young for breeding camps and later consumption.
Dread filled me to the tips of my ears as I scrambled to turn it off. However, the deed has been done. The predators had seen what their presence wrought with them. It was only a matter of time before they stopped playing prey and pounce.
“Wow. That’s… a depressing and gruesum way to look at first contact.” The female troll, (Vrakia, was it?) blurted.
I slowly tilted my head to put the predators in my peripheral vision. The other troll had his brow furrowed in what I assumed was rage. The humans however? Sara had gone pale, the flushed pink skin nearly as bleached as an arctic pelted Venlil. Noah looked…nauseous? Did cowering prey really disgust him so?
The browned skinned human swallowed. “My God. Is that why this place was so empty? Everyone was evacuated?”
I mimicked their head bob nervously, words failing me in the moment.
“So you thought we were here to attack you?”
“Why wouldn’t we!? We detect multiple unknown spacecraft within our systems, suddenly lose all communications across our sector of space, only then to be spoken to by predators, preaching about the conquering of our species!?” Kam bellowed in anger.
To my surprise, the invaders flinched, before donning expressions of false(?) Shame and sorrow.
“You- You do have a point.” Sara mumbled.
“I told you knocking out comms was a bad idea.” Hofzaa reprimanded. “I know it’s protocol for Pre-Psiioniic Engine civilizations, but we royally fucked up here.”
The predators, with their sullen expressions, looked at each other before Noah continued.
“We would never attack without being provoked,” Noah explained. “Even if we did attack you, we would only have aimed for military installations and outposts. We strictly follow the Geneva Conventions, to not do so would place you as a Class One Imperial Criminal regardless of status or caste!”
“And what would that entail?” Huffed Kam.
“Being a Class One Imperial Criminal means top priority for your capture. You would have been branded not only a danger to society, but to the entirety of the empire. Class ones would be detained and placed in the most secure holding facility possible. Most never see the outside ever again.” Vrakia explained.
The predators would go to such lengths to protect the citizenry where the other of their kind would just feast at the slightly burnt meal? The presence of a seemingly rigid law system, not even employed by prey, indicated how hard it was for the humans and trolls it was for them to control their instincts.
Noah spoke again. “Our only intention here is to explore, discover, and when possible, civilize and integrate. If we have the opportunity to ensure a peaceful galaxy, then we will do our utmost best for its creation” He uttered passionately.
“So, you are here to make us part of your Empire? In what way?” I Inquired.
“Well first off, your race will be vassalized and brought up to Imperial standard.”
I must have hidden my expression of horror and disgust poorly, because he immediately elaborated.
“We won’t be completely assimilating you. We’re just bringing you up to speed in terms of knowledge, technological and societal development. Granted during the process of vassalization, any ideologies, ways of life, political and social movements that conflict with imperial values, are harmful to either the Empire or yourselves, and are just plain wrong, will have to be removed from you and either replaced or modified for the benefit of both parties. Your culture, and people will be left largely the same, you’ll just end up looking at the same things differently is all.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just tell me they planned to up-end and warp our worldviews into something unrecognisable.
“If all goes well, in a few generations, your world would have adapted to the imperial economy, as well as have had essential utilities created and conformed to be unique to your species needs and station, then you will be casted! Made full Imperial citizens and allowed free entry to the rest of our territories!” He ended cheerfully.
I was stunned. They wanted to colonize our world to be like one of theirs! Visions of blood filled streets, Venlil hanging on meat hooks and in cages being advertised in a butchers shop ‘as fresh as meat gets’. What horrors would await us? It took all my willpower not to vomit there and then. Kam gagged a bit before composing himself to the best of his abilities.
“Please believe us.” Sara input. “We want nothing more than to befriend you and watch you thrive alongside us. We’re all people. We just want to make new friends, like everyone else.” It sounded so genuine.
Kam couldn’t take it anymore.
“No.” He whispered.
“What?”
“No, You’re not like us, You’ll never be like us. There are no other people like you, predator.” He hissed between his teeth.
“Why not?” Asked the shocked human. By all the the gods if any of them exist Kam don’t mess this up.
“Because you’re predators, Sapient predators.” There was the real reason for our hesitance and distrust.
“And? Are they not common?”
“No. Including the trolls, you would be the only three sapient predators we’ve encountered.”
“So, who was the first?” Sara asked.
There was silence. The atrocities of the Arxur are still an ever present threat, and no one wanted to recount them for our front eyed guests.
Her voice wavered slightly. “Governor Tarva, who was the first?”
I turned away from them, tears threatening to spill. How could I tell them of the evils the greys commit just by breathing? Children, slaughtered as delicacies, The breeding pens, the torture done for fun, that they broadcast to us constantly? I try to stem the flow of my tears, after all, these were still predators. Any show of weakness is an invitation for a meal.
The humans and trolls were frozen in my silence. None of them moved a muscle, until Noah shuffled his way towards me. Kam moved a hand to his side, where a hidden stun blaster was held. I had expected him to laugh, strike me with his paw and place me under his boot. Instead however, he placed it on my shoulder.
“Whatever they’ve done to your people, I swear on the name of the Empress, that we would never stoop so low. We will only seek your companionship, enlightenment and safety. Under our banner, we will wrought destruction on those who torment you.”
The dam burst. I wailed like a newborn pup and buried my face into his suit. He just soothed me with soft rubs and gave me words of reassurance. I felt warm, comfortable and safe in his arms. For the first time in a long while, I believed that the Arxur couldn’t hurt me or anyone.
Kam sported a look of disbelief. It would have been amusing if moments prior I hadn't been bawling my eyes out. Maybe these predators were benevolent? Maybe they were good, coming here with only the intentions of our improvement?
It took some time for me to calm down, but once I did, I raised myself (regrettably) from the warm and strong embrace.
“I apologise for the unprofessional display, Noah.” I began.
“No need for anything Governor Tarva! Your people must have suffered greatly at the hands of those monsters, I'm more surprised that you were able to keep yourself composed as long as you did.” Noah said.
“Oh please, call me Tarva. I hope my people will thrive under your care.” My ears wiggle in good nature.
“But Ma’am, what about the Federation?” Kam reminded me.
Oh right. That was a valid point. What would happen to us and the Federation? There was no way that they would even entertain the thought of video communication, talk less of a peace negotiation.
“I’m sorry, did you just say Federation?” Noah turned his attention to Kam.
He still had little trust for them, but his hostility had lessened at the display of irrefutable empathy.
“Yes, the Venlil are part of an interstellar organisation known as ‘The Federation’. We tried to send them distress signals once you were first sighted, however they failed before even leaving the planet. If you reinstate our communications, we’ll automatically reconnect to The Federation’s network and news of what’s transpired will reach them. They’ll send the largest extermination fleet possible to come to our aid.”
Upon hearing this, the humans and the trolls adopted the easily recognisable prey emotion of nervousness.
“Oh, that…. Complicates things.” Noah muttered.
“Badly.” I affirm.
“No, it’s much worse than you think. We can’t just leave now. Firstly, we’ve already isolated your region of space. That includes all signals released from your worlds. We were meticulous. Nothing gets in or out. That’s why your T.V worked earlier. We’ve already returned your local networks to you. Secondly, the moment we cut comms, integration fleets were dispatched, and one of Her Imperial Graces, The Grand Impaler specifically, was already informed. They will arrive here in five of your days [claws].”
“There’s no way to explain this is all just some misunderstanding?” I ask.
The four predators shake their heads. “Once an integration fleet is dispatched, there’s no going back. There’s too many resources being used, and the first fleet itself is for protection until you can protect yourselves.” Hofzaa states.
Complete radio silence from venlil space? If it was possible to hide them before, the chances have dropped to below zero now. Without trade and news from the Venlil, not only would both economies suffer, but it will certainly attract attention from the Federation now. Kam, the ever present voice of reason, and the same troll that just spoke, uttered the words were all thinking.
“Fuck/Brahk.”
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Alright, that's chapter 3 done! As i stated, i"m recovering from a cold. so the net chapter might be delayed even more. However, I really don't want to jump into Solvin's perspective so early! Would you guys like to see an entirely new POV, as well as a bit of lore explanation? Thank you for reading my story, i hope it entertains you greately! Happy reading!!!
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2023.08.16 02:57 AtoZbodyfitness The Link Between Fat Loss and Overall, Health: Understanding the Connection
Introduction
In the pursuit of optimal health and well-being, understanding the intricate interplay between fat loss and overall wellness becomes paramount. Our journey into comprehending the profound impact of fat loss on our holistic well-being unveils essential insights that can serve as guiding beacons on the path to healthier living. Within the realm of this article, we embark on an exploration of the profound connection between fat loss and overall health, unraveling the strategies that facilitate this journey, elucidating the myriad benefits, and delving into the pivotal role that fat loss assumes in the enhancement of our metabolic and cardiovascular health.
How does fat loss impact overall health?
Peering beyond the superficial, the nexus between fat loss and well-being delves deep, with ripple effects permeating various facets of our health canvas. The ripple effects of fat loss extend far and wide, encompassing multifaceted aspects of our well-being:
Cardiovascular health:
The reduction in adipose tissue can herald improved cardiovascular health by alleviating the burden on the heart and optimizing blood circulation, thereby promoting the longevity of this vital organ.
Weight management:
The journey towards fat loss intersects harmoniously with effective weight management, diminishing the risk of being ensnared in the clutches of obesity-associated maladies.
Stress reduction:
Woven intricately into the fabric of fat loss is exercise, an elixir that not only incinerates adiposity but also assuages stress, fostering mental equanimity.
Energy levels:
The process of fat loss culminates in augmented energy reserves, as adipose tissue serves as fuel, stoking the furnace of physical vitality.
Muscle strength:
The synergy of fat loss with physical activity culminates in fortified musculature, conferring not only strength but also endurance upon our physical vessel.
Diabetes management:
Effective fat loss can wield a transformative influence on blood sugar control, a critical facet for those navigating the labyrinth of diabetes management.
What are the best strategies for effective fat loss?
Embarking on the odyssey towards fat loss necessitates an integrated approach, interweaving dietary consciousness, regular exercise, and mindful lifestyle choices. Amidst this holistic tapestry, certain strategies stand as sentinels of success:
Exercise:
The rhythmic cadence of physical activity sets the stage for accelerated fat loss, fanning the flames of energy expenditure and propelling us towards our goals.
Health-conscious diet:
The dietary compass points towards heart-healthy fare, teeming with nutrients and devoid of the snares of processed indulgences, steering us towards fat loss nirvana.
Cardiovascular workouts:
The realms of running, cycling, and swimming beckon as cardiovascular workouts, wherein the flames of fat-burning are stoked, and cardiovascular robustness flourishes.
Resistance training:
By embracing the discipline of resistance training, we craft a sanctuary of lean muscle mass, a haven that augments our basal metabolic rate, fostering fat loss even in repose.
Stress management:
The art of stress reduction emerges as a linchpin, as meditation, yoga, and mindfulness converge to dismantle stress-induced bulwarks, ensuring that our fat loss voyage remains steady and undeterred.
Can fat loss improve metabolic health?
Indeed, the saga of fat loss is inextricably linked with the saga of improved metabolic health. The ritualistic shedding of adipose layers, particularly those that shroud vital organs, begets a realm of metabolic harmony, tempering the flames of metabolic syndrome and its attendant tribulations. At the nexus of this metamorphic process is exercise, a potent instrument that orchestrates an intricate symphony of improved insulin sensitivity, blood pressure moderation, and cholesterol equilibrium, thus fortifying the fortress of metabolic vitality.
Is there a connection between obesity and chronic diseases?
The tapestry of health is interwoven with threads of cause and effect, none more poignant than the connection between obesity and the chronic maladies that haunt our times. The burden of excess adiposity casts a long shadow, predisposing us to a constellation of ailments including heart disease, diabetes, certain cancers, and joint afflictions. By embracing the mantle of fat loss, we proactively mitigate these perilous odds, kindling the flame of well-being, and potentially extending the chapters of our life narrative.
How can I balance fat loss with muscle gain for better health?
The delicate equilibrium between fat loss and muscle gain lays the cornerstone of holistic well-being. Guided by the principles of equilibrium, we navigate this terrain with finesse, crafting an equilibrium that optimizes not only fat loss but also the burgeoning of lean muscle mass. The recipe for this harmonious blend entails:
Protein intake:
As we partake in the symphony of nutrition, a generous helping of protein emerges as the maestro, orchestrating the cadence of muscle growth while ushering in the era of fat loss.
Varied workouts:
The tapestry of workouts is a variegated canvas, embracing both the cadence of cardiovascular exertion and the vigor of resistance training, as they synergize to facilitate fat loss while nurturing the growth of sinewy strength.
Rest and recovery:
Amidst the crescendo of exertion, the interludes of rest reverberate as keynotes, as muscles rejuvenate, repair, and grow in these interstitial intermissions.
Gradual approach:
The pursuit of fat loss and muscle gain, akin to a symphony, thrives in gradual crescendos. A measured approach safeguards against the breakdown of hard-earned muscle tissue, ensuring a sustainable voyage of transformation.
How does fat loss impact overall health?
The profound impact of fat loss on our overall health transcends the surface, venturing into the intricate tapestry of well-being, weaving threads that touch upon myriad aspects of our physiological and mental realms. Beyond the aesthetics, fat loss orchestrates a symphony of health benefits, each note resonating harmoniously to enhance our holistic wellness. Let us delve deeper into this symphony, exploring how the cascade of fat loss enriches the grand composition of our health.
Cardiovascular health:
As the curtain of excess fat recedes, the stage is set for a symphony of cardiovascular well-being. The reduction in body fat assumes the role of a conductor, alleviating the strain on the heart's performance. With each ounce of fat relinquished, the heart's burden lightens, allowing it to pump blood with greater ease and efficiency. Furthermore, the improved blood circulation that accompanies fat loss translates into revitalized cardiovascular vigor, setting the rhythm for a healthier heart.
Weight management:
Fat loss takes center stage as a virtuoso in the orchestration of weight management. Shedding excess fat, a substantial component of body weight, reconfigures the balance, tilting it favorably towards health. The orchestra of fat loss is harmonized with reduced risk—like a conductor guiding musicians—mitigating the peril of obesity-related diseases that cast a shadow over our well-being. Through this harmonious balance, fat loss acts as a beacon, guiding us towards a healthier weight and a life less encumbered by health concerns.
Stress reduction:
Within the tapestry of fat loss, the composition of exercise emerges as a transformative movement. Exercise, akin to a conductor's baton, orchestrates the cadence of stress reduction. As we engage in physical activity, endorphins—the body's natural mood elevators—are released, creating a harmonious symphony of stress alleviation. The rhythm of exercise dances in tandem with stress, dissolving its burdensome notes and fostering mental well-being. This harmonization of the physical and mental domains exemplifies the holistic nature of fat loss's impact.
Energy levels:
Fat loss embarks on a kinetic journey, entwined with the very essence of energy dynamics. As adipose tissue surrenders to the flames of exercise, fat becomes the fuel that ignites a surge in overall energy levels. The conversion of stored fat into usable energy echoes through the chambers of our body, kindling vitality and invigoration. This energy upsurge, a result of the fat loss composition, fuels not only physical endeavors but also fosters mental clarity and focus.
Muscle strength:
Fat loss and exercise engage in a harmonious duet, enriching our physical repertoire with the melody of muscle strength. The symphony of fat loss, when accompanied by resistance training and physical activity, cultivates lean muscle mass. This intricate partnership imparts vigor to muscles, fortifying them with endurance and strength. Just as a composer crafts intricate harmonies, fat loss and exercise converge to create a symphony of physical prowess, enabling us to navigate the demands of life with resilience.
Diabetes management:
In the realm of metabolic well-being, fat loss assumes the role of a conductor, orchestrating improved blood sugar control. With the shedding of excess fat, the symphony of diabetes management takes on a melodious note. The rhythm of fat loss harmonizes with stabilized blood sugar levels, rendering the landscape of diabetes management more manageable. The interplay of fat loss and blood sugar equilibrium resonates as a harmonious composition, vital for the melody of well-managed diabetes.
In the grand symphony of well-being, the impact of fat loss reverberates as a multifaceted composition. The harmony of cardiovascular health, weight management, stress reduction, energy elevation, muscle empowerment, and diabetes management coalesce to create a masterpiece that celebrates the holistic symphony of health. As we journey through the intricacies of fat loss, we uncover not only the aesthetic transformations but also the profound enhancements that resonate across the spectrum of our well-being.
What are the best strategies for effective fat loss?
Embarking on a journey towards effective fat loss is akin to conducting an intricate symphony of lifestyle choices that harmonize to compose a healthier and more vibrant self. This orchestration demands a holistic approach, a medley of conscious decisions that encompass exercise, dietary mindfulness, and habits that resonate with well-being. As we delve into the composition of effective fat loss strategies, let us explore these harmonious elements that lead to a crescendo of transformation.
Exercise: Engaging in the Energetic Movement
At the heart of the fat loss composition lies the dynamic cadence of exercise—a movement that amplifies the energy expenditure of the body. Regular physical activity unfurls as a symphony of fat loss acceleration, its notes echoing with heightened metabolic activity. The rhythm of exercise, be it in the form of brisk walks, invigorating jogs, or exhilarating dance sessions, ignites the fire of energy consumption. Each stride, each rep, each movement cultivates a harmonious balance, coaxing the body to release its adipose reserves, a virtuoso performance that propels us towards our fat loss goals.
Health-conscious diet: Nourishing the Melody of Wellness
The second movement in our symphony of fat loss unfolds in the realm of nutrition. A health-conscious diet, a composition of balanced and heart-healthy choices, assumes the spotlight. This culinary symphony eschews the cacophony of processed indulgences, opting instead for a melody rich in nutrients and devoid of empty calories. The resonating notes of whole grains, lean proteins, vibrant fruits, and verdant vegetables blend into a harmony that satiates both hunger and wellness. As we choose foods that nourish and energize, we compose a melody of fat loss that resonates with vitality.
Cardiovascular workouts: A Cardio Cadence of Fat Burning
The composition of effective fat loss is incomplete without the fervent cadence of cardiovascular workouts. These exercises—running, cycling, swimming, and more—usher in a dynamic rhythm that kindles the flames of fat burning. Each cardio session is a movement that orchestrates an increased heart rate, an accelerated breathing pattern, and a crescendo of calorie expenditure. The symphony of cardiovascular workouts harmonizes with the alchemical process of fat oxidation, igniting a blaze that transforms adipose tissue into energy, enriching our lives with vitality.
Resistance training: Sculpting Strength and Metabolism
The symphony of fat loss gains depth and complexity with the inclusion of resistance training—a movement that sculpts not just muscles but also metabolism. As we engage in strength training exercises, the composition of lean muscle mass unfolds. This interplay of effort and resistance fortifies our body's edifice, nurturing muscles that not only possess strength but also foster metabolic agility. Even during moments of repose, lean muscle mass orchestrates a perpetual symphony of calorie burning, a transformative melody that accompanies us beyond the workout.
Stress management: A Harmonious Reprieve
In this multifaceted symphony of fat loss, stress management emerges as a vital interlude, a restful pause that prevents dissonance from taking center stage. Stress, the cacophonous adversary of well-being, can thwart the symphony of fat loss with cortisol—a hormone that prompts fat storage. To counter this, we turn to the art of stress reduction. Techniques such as meditation, yoga, and mindfulness are the sonnets that compose a harmonious reprieve, a melody that allays stress-induced weight gain and nurtures a tranquil ambiance for fat loss to flourish.
As we navigate the harmonious composition of effective fat loss strategies, each element contributes to a symphony that transforms our lives. The crescendo of exercise, the melody of a health-conscious diet, the cadence of cardiovascular workouts, the strength of resistance training, and the soothing notes of stress management coalesce into a harmonious masterpiece of well-being. In this grand symphony, we find the cadence of transformation, a composition that not only sheds fat but also orchestrates a life enriched with vitality and health.
Can fat loss improve metabolic health?
The intricate dance between fat loss and metabolic health choreographs a transformative symphony that resonates deep within our physiological core. The interplay of these two elements is not mere happenstance; it is a harmonious composition that yields profound benefits. As we delve into the symphonic connection between fat loss and metabolic health, we uncover a melodic narrative that orchestrates a cascade of well-being enhancements.
Shedding the Excess Layers: A Metabolic Sonata
The journey of fat loss unfurls as a symphony of metamorphosis. When excess fat is relinquished, especially the adipose drapery surrounding vital organs, a metamorphic transformation sweeps through the body. The curtain of fat shrouding the internal landscape is drawn aside, unveiling a realm where metabolic health reigns supreme. This revelation is not only aesthetic but also functional, as the harmonious interplay between fat loss and metabolic well-being resonates with transformative melodies.
Diminishing the Shadows of Metabolic Syndrome
The symphony of fat loss holds the power to disperse the shadows of metabolic syndrome—an ensemble of conditions that often march in unison, heralding a discordant note of compromised health. As fat surrenders to the flames of exercise and healthy choices, the risk of metabolic syndrome diminishes. Blood pressure moderates, blood sugar stabilizes, and cholesterol levels harmonize, crafting a composition that celebrates metabolic equilibrium. With the shadows dispelled, the melody of well-being takes center stage.
Precision Performance: Insulin Sensitivity and Beyond
A pivotal movement in the symphony of metabolic health is the enhancement of insulin sensitivity. Fat loss, with its transformative undertones, orchestrates a virtuoso performance that optimizes the body's response to insulin—an essential conductor in the metabolic orchestra. As the cadence of fat loss unfolds, insulin sensitivity is honed, fortifying the body's ability to regulate blood sugar levels. This precision performance is a cornerstone of metabolic health, shaping a landscape where the rhythm of glucose management harmonizes flawlessly.
Exercise: The Maestro of Metabolic Resonance
Within the orchestration of fat loss's impact on metabolic health, exercise emerges as the maestro—an entity that conducts a harmonious resonance within our metabolic ensemble. Regular physical activity conducts a symphony of metabolic enhancements, elevating our metabolic rate, fine-tuning insulin sensitivity, and nurturing a symmetrical balance between energy intake and expenditure. The crescendo of exercise is not just about calories burned; it is the transformative cadence that orchestrates metabolic harmony.
The Synergy of Metabolic Health: Blood Pressure and Cholesterol
Metabolic health, like an intricately composed symphony, features movements that resonate beyond insulin sensitivity. The orchestration of fat loss intersects seamlessly with the realms of blood pressure and cholesterol regulation. As fat recedes, the strain on the cardiovascular system diminishes, contributing to blood pressure moderation. Simultaneously, the composition of a health-conscious diet ushers in a harmonious balance of cholesterol levels, harmonizing the rhythm of cardiovascular well-being.
In the grand symphony of metabolic health, the resonance of fat loss reverberates as a transformative composition. The orchestration of fat loss encapsulates a cascade of harmonious movements that optimize insulin sensitivity, regulate blood pressure and cholesterol, and dispel the shadows of metabolic syndrome. This symphony is not merely an ode to aesthetics; it is a composition that embodies the harmonious dance between fat loss and metabolic well-being, shaping a melody of health and vitality.
Is there a connection between obesity and chronic diseases?
Within the intricate tapestry of human health, the connection between obesity and chronic diseases is a thread that weaves a profound narrative. This connection is not mere coincidence; it is an interwoven composition that impacts every facet of well-being. As we delve into the melodic symphony that resonates between obesity and chronic diseases, we uncover a story of risks, challenges, and transformative possibilities.
The Weight of Risk: Obesity's Prelude to Chronic Diseases
Obesity, like a somber overture, sets the stage for a host of chronic diseases that follow in its wake. The accumulation of excess body fat transcends the realm of aesthetics, casting a shadow that extends into the realms of health. The weight of adipose tissue, akin to a lingering note, amplifies the risk of chronic maladies. The symphony begins with heart disease—a condition that thrives amidst the backdrop of obesity. The strain on the cardiovascular system, the imbalance of cholesterol levels, and the discordant rhythm of blood pressure converge to compose a heart disease overture.
A Diabetic Melody: Obesity's Impact on Diabetes
The symphony of obesity extends its tendrils towards diabetes, a mellifluous movement marked by insulin resistance and blood sugar dysregulation. As adipose tissue burgeons, the symphony of obesity plays a key role in the emergence of type 2 diabetes. The weight of excess fat impairs insulin sensitivity, a discordant note that hinders the body's ability to regulate blood sugar levels. This symphony of metabolic disarray resonates within the corridors of diabetes, reminding us of the intricate connection between obesity and chronic conditions.
Cancer's Echoes: Obesity's Influence on Oncology
The connection between obesity and chronic diseases echoes within the realm of oncology, where obesity's role as a conductor of cancer risk becomes evident. As excess fat envelops the body, the symphony of obesity becomes a crescendo of inflammatory signals, a tumultuous composition that can fuel the growth of cancerous cells. This symphony resonates particularly in the case of certain cancers, including breast, colon, and endometrial cancers. The link between obesity and cancer is a poignant reminder of the far-reaching implications of excess adiposity.
Strain on the Joints: Obesity's Impact on Mobility
Obesity's symphony echoes in the realm of musculoskeletal health, where the excess weight takes a toll on the body's framework. The strain on joints, ligaments, and bones is akin to a dissonant note within this symphony. As the body carries the burden of excess adipose tissue, the harmonious movement of joints is disrupted, paving the way for conditions such as osteoarthritis. The link between obesity and joint problems underscores the far-reaching implications of obesity on overall well-being.
Transforming the Composition: Addressing Obesity through Fat Loss
The symphony of obesity and chronic diseases need not be a dirge of despair. It is a melody that can be transformed through the power of change. Addressing obesity through the transformative cadence of fat loss offers a counterpoint to the dissonance of chronic diseases. By shedding excess fat, the symphony of health is harmonized, reducing the risk of heart disease, diabetes, cancer, and joint problems. This transformation is a testament to the body's resilience and the potential for rewriting the script of health.
Conclusion: A Harmonious Journey towards Well-Being
The symphony that resonates between obesity and chronic diseases is a multifaceted composition that echoes across the spectrum of well-being. As we navigate this melodic tapestry, we recognize the intricate connections that bind our health. The transformative power of addressing obesity through fat loss is a harmonious journey towards well-being—a symphony that reshapes the narrative, mitigates risks, and extends the chapters of vitality. With each note of change, each crescendo of fat loss, we compose a melody that celebrates health, resilience, and the potential for a life rich with well-being.
How can I balance fat loss with muscle gain for better health?
In the intricate dance of health and fitness, the harmonious interplay between fat loss and muscle gain emerges as a choreography of well-being. This symphony of equilibrium is not only about sculpting the body but also about nurturing vitality and strength. As we embark on this harmonious journey towards a balanced transformation, we unravel the key notes that guide us in striking the perfect balance between fat loss and muscle gain for optimal health.
Protein Intake: Nourishing the Muscular Crescendo
At the heart of this symphony lies the pivotal role of protein. Protein, like a maestro's baton, conducts the melody of muscle growth while harmonizing with the cadence of fat loss. Adequate protein intake orchestrates the synthesis of lean muscle mass, fortifying the body's framework while simultaneously enhancing the fat loss composition. With each bite of protein-rich nourishment, we nourish not only our muscles but also the symphony of health that resonates within.
Varied Workouts: The Fusion of Cardio and Strength
The composition of balanced health incorporates a spectrum of movement, each note resonating within the harmonious ensemble. Cardiovascular exercises and resistance training converge as a harmonious duo, blending the dynamic cadence of fat loss with the resounding chords of muscle gain. Cardio exercises, whether a brisk run or an exhilarating cycling session, conduct the rhythm of calorie expenditure, fanning the flames of fat loss. Simultaneously, resistance training acts as a sculptor, crafting lean muscle mass that elevates metabolism even in the stillness of rest.
Rest and Recovery: The Interlude of Rejuvenation
Within the symphony of balanced transformation, the interlude of rest and recovery emerges as a pivotal movement. Just as in a musical score, the rests between notes are essential for the harmony of the composition, allowing for rejuvenation and growth. Muscles, akin to instruments, undergo repair and growth during periods of rest. By prioritizing ample sleep and incorporating rest days into the routine, we foster a melody of muscular rejuvenation that harmonizes with the broader composition of health.
Gradual Approach: The Art of Sustainable Transformation
In this symphony of balanced well-being, the pursuit of gradual fat loss takes center stage. Like a composer who carefully crafts crescendos and diminuendos, a gradual approach to fat loss safeguards against the discord of muscle breakdown. The synergy of fat loss and muscle gain is a journey that thrives on patience and sustainability. A gradual transformation not only prevents the rapid loss of muscle mass but also nurtures habits that are more likely to be enduring, contributing to long-term success.
Conclusion: Crafting the Symphony of Well-Being
The quest to balance fat loss and muscle gain is a symphony of transformation that resonates deeply within the realm of health and fitness. The harmonious combination of protein intake, varied workouts, rest, and gradual progression yields a composition of vitality, strength, and holistic well-being. As we masterfully blend these elements, we craft a symphony that not only sculpts our physique but also nurtures our internal symphony of health. With each note of nourishment, each movement of exercise, and each pause of rest, we compose a melody that celebrates the equilibrium of balanced transformation—a melody that resonates as a testament to our commitment to better health.
Conclusion:
A Harmonious Overture to Health and Vitality
In the grand finale of our exploration, we stand at the crossroads of understanding—the juncture where the connection between fat loss and overall health takes center stage. This voyage of discovery has unveiled a symphony of insights that harmonize to orchestrate a transformative narrative. As we draw the curtain on this symposium of knowledge, we are armed with the tools to compose a life that resonates with well-being, vitality, and a harmonious equilibrium.
Empowerment through Understanding: A Transformative Melody
Understanding the intricate link between fat loss and overall health is akin to receiving the sheet music for a transformative melody. Armed with this knowledge, we become not just spectators but active participants in the composition of our well-being. The awareness of how fat loss impacts various facets of health lends us the power to make choices that resonate with our aspirations for a healthier, more vibrant life.
Balanced Approach: The Maestro of Well-Being
The crescendo of our journey towards better health is marked by a balanced approach that dances in harmony with the rhythms of life. Regular exercise, like a seasoned maestro, orchestrates the symphony of fat loss and muscle gain, infusing our days with vitality. Health-conscious eating, akin to an artisan, sculpts our dietary canvas, fostering nourishment that resonates within. Stress reduction, a soothing melody, imbues our lives with serenity, enriching our well-being.
Embarking on the Path to Transformation
As the final notes of this symphonic exploration linger in the air, let us remember that our journey towards health is not solely about shedding fat—it's about gaining vitality, embracing well-being, and orchestrating a lifestyle that reverberates with sustainability. The symphony of well-being is composed of multifaceted movements, each note contributing to a harmony that resonates with improved cardiovascular health, enhanced metabolism, and an overall elevation of life's cadence.
A Composition Beyond Aesthetics: Gaining Life's Vibrancy
In this denouement, we unveil the truth that the connection between fat loss and overall health transcends the realm of aesthetics. It is a composition that shapes our well-being, amplifying vitality, and extending the chapters of our life's narrative. As we reflect on the journey, let us carry the wisdom of this connection into our daily choices. Let us embark on each day with purpose, crafting a symphony of health that celebrates not just the loss of fat, but the gain of energy, vigor, and a life that resonates with well-being.
As we close the chapter on this exploration, let us carry the melody of understanding, the harmony of balanced choices, and the crescendo of transformation forward. Each step, each choice, and each note we play in the symphony of our lives contribute to a composition that celebrates health, vitality, and the pursuit of a life well-lived.
submitted by AtoZbodyfitness to u/AtoZbodyfitness [link] [comments]
In the pursuit of optimal health and well-being, understanding the intricate interplay between fat loss and overall wellness becomes paramount. Our journey into comprehending the profound impact of fat loss on our holistic well-being unveils essential insights that can serve as guiding beacons on the path to healthier living. Within the realm of this article, we embark on an exploration of the profound connection between fat loss and overall health, unraveling the strategies that facilitate this journey, elucidating the myriad benefits, and delving into the pivotal role that fat loss assumes in the enhancement of our metabolic and cardiovascular health.
How does fat loss impact overall health?
Peering beyond the superficial, the nexus between fat loss and well-being delves deep, with ripple effects permeating various facets of our health canvas. The ripple effects of fat loss extend far and wide, encompassing multifaceted aspects of our well-being:
Cardiovascular health:
The reduction in adipose tissue can herald improved cardiovascular health by alleviating the burden on the heart and optimizing blood circulation, thereby promoting the longevity of this vital organ.
Weight management:
The journey towards fat loss intersects harmoniously with effective weight management, diminishing the risk of being ensnared in the clutches of obesity-associated maladies.
Stress reduction:
Woven intricately into the fabric of fat loss is exercise, an elixir that not only incinerates adiposity but also assuages stress, fostering mental equanimity.
Energy levels:
The process of fat loss culminates in augmented energy reserves, as adipose tissue serves as fuel, stoking the furnace of physical vitality.
Muscle strength:
The synergy of fat loss with physical activity culminates in fortified musculature, conferring not only strength but also endurance upon our physical vessel.
Diabetes management:
Effective fat loss can wield a transformative influence on blood sugar control, a critical facet for those navigating the labyrinth of diabetes management.
What are the best strategies for effective fat loss?
Embarking on the odyssey towards fat loss necessitates an integrated approach, interweaving dietary consciousness, regular exercise, and mindful lifestyle choices. Amidst this holistic tapestry, certain strategies stand as sentinels of success:
Exercise:
The rhythmic cadence of physical activity sets the stage for accelerated fat loss, fanning the flames of energy expenditure and propelling us towards our goals.
Health-conscious diet:
The dietary compass points towards heart-healthy fare, teeming with nutrients and devoid of the snares of processed indulgences, steering us towards fat loss nirvana.
Cardiovascular workouts:
The realms of running, cycling, and swimming beckon as cardiovascular workouts, wherein the flames of fat-burning are stoked, and cardiovascular robustness flourishes.
Resistance training:
By embracing the discipline of resistance training, we craft a sanctuary of lean muscle mass, a haven that augments our basal metabolic rate, fostering fat loss even in repose.
Stress management:
The art of stress reduction emerges as a linchpin, as meditation, yoga, and mindfulness converge to dismantle stress-induced bulwarks, ensuring that our fat loss voyage remains steady and undeterred.
Can fat loss improve metabolic health?
Indeed, the saga of fat loss is inextricably linked with the saga of improved metabolic health. The ritualistic shedding of adipose layers, particularly those that shroud vital organs, begets a realm of metabolic harmony, tempering the flames of metabolic syndrome and its attendant tribulations. At the nexus of this metamorphic process is exercise, a potent instrument that orchestrates an intricate symphony of improved insulin sensitivity, blood pressure moderation, and cholesterol equilibrium, thus fortifying the fortress of metabolic vitality.
Is there a connection between obesity and chronic diseases?
The tapestry of health is interwoven with threads of cause and effect, none more poignant than the connection between obesity and the chronic maladies that haunt our times. The burden of excess adiposity casts a long shadow, predisposing us to a constellation of ailments including heart disease, diabetes, certain cancers, and joint afflictions. By embracing the mantle of fat loss, we proactively mitigate these perilous odds, kindling the flame of well-being, and potentially extending the chapters of our life narrative.
How can I balance fat loss with muscle gain for better health?
The delicate equilibrium between fat loss and muscle gain lays the cornerstone of holistic well-being. Guided by the principles of equilibrium, we navigate this terrain with finesse, crafting an equilibrium that optimizes not only fat loss but also the burgeoning of lean muscle mass. The recipe for this harmonious blend entails:
Protein intake:
As we partake in the symphony of nutrition, a generous helping of protein emerges as the maestro, orchestrating the cadence of muscle growth while ushering in the era of fat loss.
Varied workouts:
The tapestry of workouts is a variegated canvas, embracing both the cadence of cardiovascular exertion and the vigor of resistance training, as they synergize to facilitate fat loss while nurturing the growth of sinewy strength.
Rest and recovery:
Amidst the crescendo of exertion, the interludes of rest reverberate as keynotes, as muscles rejuvenate, repair, and grow in these interstitial intermissions.
Gradual approach:
The pursuit of fat loss and muscle gain, akin to a symphony, thrives in gradual crescendos. A measured approach safeguards against the breakdown of hard-earned muscle tissue, ensuring a sustainable voyage of transformation.
How does fat loss impact overall health?
The profound impact of fat loss on our overall health transcends the surface, venturing into the intricate tapestry of well-being, weaving threads that touch upon myriad aspects of our physiological and mental realms. Beyond the aesthetics, fat loss orchestrates a symphony of health benefits, each note resonating harmoniously to enhance our holistic wellness. Let us delve deeper into this symphony, exploring how the cascade of fat loss enriches the grand composition of our health.
Cardiovascular health:
As the curtain of excess fat recedes, the stage is set for a symphony of cardiovascular well-being. The reduction in body fat assumes the role of a conductor, alleviating the strain on the heart's performance. With each ounce of fat relinquished, the heart's burden lightens, allowing it to pump blood with greater ease and efficiency. Furthermore, the improved blood circulation that accompanies fat loss translates into revitalized cardiovascular vigor, setting the rhythm for a healthier heart.
Weight management:
Fat loss takes center stage as a virtuoso in the orchestration of weight management. Shedding excess fat, a substantial component of body weight, reconfigures the balance, tilting it favorably towards health. The orchestra of fat loss is harmonized with reduced risk—like a conductor guiding musicians—mitigating the peril of obesity-related diseases that cast a shadow over our well-being. Through this harmonious balance, fat loss acts as a beacon, guiding us towards a healthier weight and a life less encumbered by health concerns.
Stress reduction:
Within the tapestry of fat loss, the composition of exercise emerges as a transformative movement. Exercise, akin to a conductor's baton, orchestrates the cadence of stress reduction. As we engage in physical activity, endorphins—the body's natural mood elevators—are released, creating a harmonious symphony of stress alleviation. The rhythm of exercise dances in tandem with stress, dissolving its burdensome notes and fostering mental well-being. This harmonization of the physical and mental domains exemplifies the holistic nature of fat loss's impact.
Energy levels:
Fat loss embarks on a kinetic journey, entwined with the very essence of energy dynamics. As adipose tissue surrenders to the flames of exercise, fat becomes the fuel that ignites a surge in overall energy levels. The conversion of stored fat into usable energy echoes through the chambers of our body, kindling vitality and invigoration. This energy upsurge, a result of the fat loss composition, fuels not only physical endeavors but also fosters mental clarity and focus.
Muscle strength:
Fat loss and exercise engage in a harmonious duet, enriching our physical repertoire with the melody of muscle strength. The symphony of fat loss, when accompanied by resistance training and physical activity, cultivates lean muscle mass. This intricate partnership imparts vigor to muscles, fortifying them with endurance and strength. Just as a composer crafts intricate harmonies, fat loss and exercise converge to create a symphony of physical prowess, enabling us to navigate the demands of life with resilience.
Diabetes management:
In the realm of metabolic well-being, fat loss assumes the role of a conductor, orchestrating improved blood sugar control. With the shedding of excess fat, the symphony of diabetes management takes on a melodious note. The rhythm of fat loss harmonizes with stabilized blood sugar levels, rendering the landscape of diabetes management more manageable. The interplay of fat loss and blood sugar equilibrium resonates as a harmonious composition, vital for the melody of well-managed diabetes.
In the grand symphony of well-being, the impact of fat loss reverberates as a multifaceted composition. The harmony of cardiovascular health, weight management, stress reduction, energy elevation, muscle empowerment, and diabetes management coalesce to create a masterpiece that celebrates the holistic symphony of health. As we journey through the intricacies of fat loss, we uncover not only the aesthetic transformations but also the profound enhancements that resonate across the spectrum of our well-being.
What are the best strategies for effective fat loss?
Embarking on a journey towards effective fat loss is akin to conducting an intricate symphony of lifestyle choices that harmonize to compose a healthier and more vibrant self. This orchestration demands a holistic approach, a medley of conscious decisions that encompass exercise, dietary mindfulness, and habits that resonate with well-being. As we delve into the composition of effective fat loss strategies, let us explore these harmonious elements that lead to a crescendo of transformation.
Exercise: Engaging in the Energetic Movement
At the heart of the fat loss composition lies the dynamic cadence of exercise—a movement that amplifies the energy expenditure of the body. Regular physical activity unfurls as a symphony of fat loss acceleration, its notes echoing with heightened metabolic activity. The rhythm of exercise, be it in the form of brisk walks, invigorating jogs, or exhilarating dance sessions, ignites the fire of energy consumption. Each stride, each rep, each movement cultivates a harmonious balance, coaxing the body to release its adipose reserves, a virtuoso performance that propels us towards our fat loss goals.
Health-conscious diet: Nourishing the Melody of Wellness
The second movement in our symphony of fat loss unfolds in the realm of nutrition. A health-conscious diet, a composition of balanced and heart-healthy choices, assumes the spotlight. This culinary symphony eschews the cacophony of processed indulgences, opting instead for a melody rich in nutrients and devoid of empty calories. The resonating notes of whole grains, lean proteins, vibrant fruits, and verdant vegetables blend into a harmony that satiates both hunger and wellness. As we choose foods that nourish and energize, we compose a melody of fat loss that resonates with vitality.
Cardiovascular workouts: A Cardio Cadence of Fat Burning
The composition of effective fat loss is incomplete without the fervent cadence of cardiovascular workouts. These exercises—running, cycling, swimming, and more—usher in a dynamic rhythm that kindles the flames of fat burning. Each cardio session is a movement that orchestrates an increased heart rate, an accelerated breathing pattern, and a crescendo of calorie expenditure. The symphony of cardiovascular workouts harmonizes with the alchemical process of fat oxidation, igniting a blaze that transforms adipose tissue into energy, enriching our lives with vitality.
Resistance training: Sculpting Strength and Metabolism
The symphony of fat loss gains depth and complexity with the inclusion of resistance training—a movement that sculpts not just muscles but also metabolism. As we engage in strength training exercises, the composition of lean muscle mass unfolds. This interplay of effort and resistance fortifies our body's edifice, nurturing muscles that not only possess strength but also foster metabolic agility. Even during moments of repose, lean muscle mass orchestrates a perpetual symphony of calorie burning, a transformative melody that accompanies us beyond the workout.
Stress management: A Harmonious Reprieve
In this multifaceted symphony of fat loss, stress management emerges as a vital interlude, a restful pause that prevents dissonance from taking center stage. Stress, the cacophonous adversary of well-being, can thwart the symphony of fat loss with cortisol—a hormone that prompts fat storage. To counter this, we turn to the art of stress reduction. Techniques such as meditation, yoga, and mindfulness are the sonnets that compose a harmonious reprieve, a melody that allays stress-induced weight gain and nurtures a tranquil ambiance for fat loss to flourish.
As we navigate the harmonious composition of effective fat loss strategies, each element contributes to a symphony that transforms our lives. The crescendo of exercise, the melody of a health-conscious diet, the cadence of cardiovascular workouts, the strength of resistance training, and the soothing notes of stress management coalesce into a harmonious masterpiece of well-being. In this grand symphony, we find the cadence of transformation, a composition that not only sheds fat but also orchestrates a life enriched with vitality and health.
Can fat loss improve metabolic health?
The intricate dance between fat loss and metabolic health choreographs a transformative symphony that resonates deep within our physiological core. The interplay of these two elements is not mere happenstance; it is a harmonious composition that yields profound benefits. As we delve into the symphonic connection between fat loss and metabolic health, we uncover a melodic narrative that orchestrates a cascade of well-being enhancements.
Shedding the Excess Layers: A Metabolic Sonata
The journey of fat loss unfurls as a symphony of metamorphosis. When excess fat is relinquished, especially the adipose drapery surrounding vital organs, a metamorphic transformation sweeps through the body. The curtain of fat shrouding the internal landscape is drawn aside, unveiling a realm where metabolic health reigns supreme. This revelation is not only aesthetic but also functional, as the harmonious interplay between fat loss and metabolic well-being resonates with transformative melodies.
Diminishing the Shadows of Metabolic Syndrome
The symphony of fat loss holds the power to disperse the shadows of metabolic syndrome—an ensemble of conditions that often march in unison, heralding a discordant note of compromised health. As fat surrenders to the flames of exercise and healthy choices, the risk of metabolic syndrome diminishes. Blood pressure moderates, blood sugar stabilizes, and cholesterol levels harmonize, crafting a composition that celebrates metabolic equilibrium. With the shadows dispelled, the melody of well-being takes center stage.
Precision Performance: Insulin Sensitivity and Beyond
A pivotal movement in the symphony of metabolic health is the enhancement of insulin sensitivity. Fat loss, with its transformative undertones, orchestrates a virtuoso performance that optimizes the body's response to insulin—an essential conductor in the metabolic orchestra. As the cadence of fat loss unfolds, insulin sensitivity is honed, fortifying the body's ability to regulate blood sugar levels. This precision performance is a cornerstone of metabolic health, shaping a landscape where the rhythm of glucose management harmonizes flawlessly.
Exercise: The Maestro of Metabolic Resonance
Within the orchestration of fat loss's impact on metabolic health, exercise emerges as the maestro—an entity that conducts a harmonious resonance within our metabolic ensemble. Regular physical activity conducts a symphony of metabolic enhancements, elevating our metabolic rate, fine-tuning insulin sensitivity, and nurturing a symmetrical balance between energy intake and expenditure. The crescendo of exercise is not just about calories burned; it is the transformative cadence that orchestrates metabolic harmony.
The Synergy of Metabolic Health: Blood Pressure and Cholesterol
Metabolic health, like an intricately composed symphony, features movements that resonate beyond insulin sensitivity. The orchestration of fat loss intersects seamlessly with the realms of blood pressure and cholesterol regulation. As fat recedes, the strain on the cardiovascular system diminishes, contributing to blood pressure moderation. Simultaneously, the composition of a health-conscious diet ushers in a harmonious balance of cholesterol levels, harmonizing the rhythm of cardiovascular well-being.
In the grand symphony of metabolic health, the resonance of fat loss reverberates as a transformative composition. The orchestration of fat loss encapsulates a cascade of harmonious movements that optimize insulin sensitivity, regulate blood pressure and cholesterol, and dispel the shadows of metabolic syndrome. This symphony is not merely an ode to aesthetics; it is a composition that embodies the harmonious dance between fat loss and metabolic well-being, shaping a melody of health and vitality.
Is there a connection between obesity and chronic diseases?
Within the intricate tapestry of human health, the connection between obesity and chronic diseases is a thread that weaves a profound narrative. This connection is not mere coincidence; it is an interwoven composition that impacts every facet of well-being. As we delve into the melodic symphony that resonates between obesity and chronic diseases, we uncover a story of risks, challenges, and transformative possibilities.
The Weight of Risk: Obesity's Prelude to Chronic Diseases
Obesity, like a somber overture, sets the stage for a host of chronic diseases that follow in its wake. The accumulation of excess body fat transcends the realm of aesthetics, casting a shadow that extends into the realms of health. The weight of adipose tissue, akin to a lingering note, amplifies the risk of chronic maladies. The symphony begins with heart disease—a condition that thrives amidst the backdrop of obesity. The strain on the cardiovascular system, the imbalance of cholesterol levels, and the discordant rhythm of blood pressure converge to compose a heart disease overture.
A Diabetic Melody: Obesity's Impact on Diabetes
The symphony of obesity extends its tendrils towards diabetes, a mellifluous movement marked by insulin resistance and blood sugar dysregulation. As adipose tissue burgeons, the symphony of obesity plays a key role in the emergence of type 2 diabetes. The weight of excess fat impairs insulin sensitivity, a discordant note that hinders the body's ability to regulate blood sugar levels. This symphony of metabolic disarray resonates within the corridors of diabetes, reminding us of the intricate connection between obesity and chronic conditions.
Cancer's Echoes: Obesity's Influence on Oncology
The connection between obesity and chronic diseases echoes within the realm of oncology, where obesity's role as a conductor of cancer risk becomes evident. As excess fat envelops the body, the symphony of obesity becomes a crescendo of inflammatory signals, a tumultuous composition that can fuel the growth of cancerous cells. This symphony resonates particularly in the case of certain cancers, including breast, colon, and endometrial cancers. The link between obesity and cancer is a poignant reminder of the far-reaching implications of excess adiposity.
Strain on the Joints: Obesity's Impact on Mobility
Obesity's symphony echoes in the realm of musculoskeletal health, where the excess weight takes a toll on the body's framework. The strain on joints, ligaments, and bones is akin to a dissonant note within this symphony. As the body carries the burden of excess adipose tissue, the harmonious movement of joints is disrupted, paving the way for conditions such as osteoarthritis. The link between obesity and joint problems underscores the far-reaching implications of obesity on overall well-being.
Transforming the Composition: Addressing Obesity through Fat Loss
The symphony of obesity and chronic diseases need not be a dirge of despair. It is a melody that can be transformed through the power of change. Addressing obesity through the transformative cadence of fat loss offers a counterpoint to the dissonance of chronic diseases. By shedding excess fat, the symphony of health is harmonized, reducing the risk of heart disease, diabetes, cancer, and joint problems. This transformation is a testament to the body's resilience and the potential for rewriting the script of health.
Conclusion: A Harmonious Journey towards Well-Being
The symphony that resonates between obesity and chronic diseases is a multifaceted composition that echoes across the spectrum of well-being. As we navigate this melodic tapestry, we recognize the intricate connections that bind our health. The transformative power of addressing obesity through fat loss is a harmonious journey towards well-being—a symphony that reshapes the narrative, mitigates risks, and extends the chapters of vitality. With each note of change, each crescendo of fat loss, we compose a melody that celebrates health, resilience, and the potential for a life rich with well-being.
How can I balance fat loss with muscle gain for better health?
In the intricate dance of health and fitness, the harmonious interplay between fat loss and muscle gain emerges as a choreography of well-being. This symphony of equilibrium is not only about sculpting the body but also about nurturing vitality and strength. As we embark on this harmonious journey towards a balanced transformation, we unravel the key notes that guide us in striking the perfect balance between fat loss and muscle gain for optimal health.
Protein Intake: Nourishing the Muscular Crescendo
At the heart of this symphony lies the pivotal role of protein. Protein, like a maestro's baton, conducts the melody of muscle growth while harmonizing with the cadence of fat loss. Adequate protein intake orchestrates the synthesis of lean muscle mass, fortifying the body's framework while simultaneously enhancing the fat loss composition. With each bite of protein-rich nourishment, we nourish not only our muscles but also the symphony of health that resonates within.
Varied Workouts: The Fusion of Cardio and Strength
The composition of balanced health incorporates a spectrum of movement, each note resonating within the harmonious ensemble. Cardiovascular exercises and resistance training converge as a harmonious duo, blending the dynamic cadence of fat loss with the resounding chords of muscle gain. Cardio exercises, whether a brisk run or an exhilarating cycling session, conduct the rhythm of calorie expenditure, fanning the flames of fat loss. Simultaneously, resistance training acts as a sculptor, crafting lean muscle mass that elevates metabolism even in the stillness of rest.
Rest and Recovery: The Interlude of Rejuvenation
Within the symphony of balanced transformation, the interlude of rest and recovery emerges as a pivotal movement. Just as in a musical score, the rests between notes are essential for the harmony of the composition, allowing for rejuvenation and growth. Muscles, akin to instruments, undergo repair and growth during periods of rest. By prioritizing ample sleep and incorporating rest days into the routine, we foster a melody of muscular rejuvenation that harmonizes with the broader composition of health.
Gradual Approach: The Art of Sustainable Transformation
In this symphony of balanced well-being, the pursuit of gradual fat loss takes center stage. Like a composer who carefully crafts crescendos and diminuendos, a gradual approach to fat loss safeguards against the discord of muscle breakdown. The synergy of fat loss and muscle gain is a journey that thrives on patience and sustainability. A gradual transformation not only prevents the rapid loss of muscle mass but also nurtures habits that are more likely to be enduring, contributing to long-term success.
Conclusion: Crafting the Symphony of Well-Being
The quest to balance fat loss and muscle gain is a symphony of transformation that resonates deeply within the realm of health and fitness. The harmonious combination of protein intake, varied workouts, rest, and gradual progression yields a composition of vitality, strength, and holistic well-being. As we masterfully blend these elements, we craft a symphony that not only sculpts our physique but also nurtures our internal symphony of health. With each note of nourishment, each movement of exercise, and each pause of rest, we compose a melody that celebrates the equilibrium of balanced transformation—a melody that resonates as a testament to our commitment to better health.
Conclusion:
A Harmonious Overture to Health and Vitality
In the grand finale of our exploration, we stand at the crossroads of understanding—the juncture where the connection between fat loss and overall health takes center stage. This voyage of discovery has unveiled a symphony of insights that harmonize to orchestrate a transformative narrative. As we draw the curtain on this symposium of knowledge, we are armed with the tools to compose a life that resonates with well-being, vitality, and a harmonious equilibrium.
Empowerment through Understanding: A Transformative Melody
Understanding the intricate link between fat loss and overall health is akin to receiving the sheet music for a transformative melody. Armed with this knowledge, we become not just spectators but active participants in the composition of our well-being. The awareness of how fat loss impacts various facets of health lends us the power to make choices that resonate with our aspirations for a healthier, more vibrant life.
Balanced Approach: The Maestro of Well-Being
The crescendo of our journey towards better health is marked by a balanced approach that dances in harmony with the rhythms of life. Regular exercise, like a seasoned maestro, orchestrates the symphony of fat loss and muscle gain, infusing our days with vitality. Health-conscious eating, akin to an artisan, sculpts our dietary canvas, fostering nourishment that resonates within. Stress reduction, a soothing melody, imbues our lives with serenity, enriching our well-being.
Embarking on the Path to Transformation
As the final notes of this symphonic exploration linger in the air, let us remember that our journey towards health is not solely about shedding fat—it's about gaining vitality, embracing well-being, and orchestrating a lifestyle that reverberates with sustainability. The symphony of well-being is composed of multifaceted movements, each note contributing to a harmony that resonates with improved cardiovascular health, enhanced metabolism, and an overall elevation of life's cadence.
A Composition Beyond Aesthetics: Gaining Life's Vibrancy
In this denouement, we unveil the truth that the connection between fat loss and overall health transcends the realm of aesthetics. It is a composition that shapes our well-being, amplifying vitality, and extending the chapters of our life's narrative. As we reflect on the journey, let us carry the wisdom of this connection into our daily choices. Let us embark on each day with purpose, crafting a symphony of health that celebrates not just the loss of fat, but the gain of energy, vigor, and a life that resonates with well-being.
As we close the chapter on this exploration, let us carry the melody of understanding, the harmony of balanced choices, and the crescendo of transformation forward. Each step, each choice, and each note we play in the symphony of our lives contribute to a composition that celebrates health, vitality, and the pursuit of a life well-lived.