FIRST CHAPTER
PREVIOUS CHAPTER
This product is a fanfic of the Sexy Space Babes/Between Worlds product of u/Bluefishcake and one I highly suggest you read. It was created with permission, but give the OG works some love.
Imgr gallery of Comissioned and Fan Artworks
I'm Back Bitches! Again!
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Junior Systems Engineer First Class Che’keero knelt before a semi-sparking control panel and sighed. She, and a large band of her fellow Engineers with Marine support, had boarded the pirate frigate with the singular goal of ensuring that the pirates didn’t scuttle their floating hulk and doom the slaves aboard to a, if they were lucky, a swift death in space.
The problem, of course, came with the pirate’s maintenance schedules and decisions to forgo certain… safety measures when it came to repair.
Like the panel before her. Usually a perfectly functional control system for the reverse-magnetic bulkhead doors that ensured void seals in power outages, some pirate at some point in their dumb, dumb life decided to fix the panel blowing a fuse… by ripping the fuse out and replacing it with a high density power cable. Which meant the entire thing was one massive shock hazard and actively sparking as the reactors deep in the ship flickered and surged due to damage.
Che’keero swore as an arc of electricity flashed towards her face after a tool that was not supposed to be magnetized, cheap dick WaDepth requisitions, caught a magnetic field, fusing the entire system shut and turning the formerly barely functional control system into nothing but pretty, decorative wiring and cheap solder. She punched the now utterly unfunctional control box and toggled on her radio. “Three-Two to Three-Lead, this door’s fried. You’ll need to bring in the cutters if we want to get to the rest of the ship. Might as well also bring in an inflatable airlock, I’m not liking how some of the metal strain sensors are flashing at me.”
A semi-synthetic voice replied back to Che’keero, “Three-Lead copies. I’ll be over there shortly with the stuff. Double check those sensors, I’m not getting the same readings, so let’s make sure something isn’t blocking errors from reaching me.”
“Copy that Three-Lead, Three-Two ou-” Something tapped against the back of her helmet and Junior Systems Engineer First Class Che’keero mentally swore.
“Now, now, lassie, how about you sit right there and don’t move.” A nasally, unfamiliar voice called out to her while tapping what a camera she set up to watch her back revealed to be a laser pistol to Che’keero’s helmet. “I think that you’re going to be our new best friend and way off this dead end ship.”
Che’keero paused, letting the situation settle in her mind, “Wait, what? Are… are you taking me hostage?”
“Yes!” The pirate replied.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you taking me hostage? This won’t work, none of the shuttles are jump capable and if you try anything, you’ll just end up jumped by marines. They specifically train to deal with pirates taking their engineers hostage. If you want to survive, you should just surrender and take the penal colony when it’s offered.” Che’keero mentioned, shrugging and continuing her inspection of the door.
The pirate seemed baffled at the sheer nonchalance of this response, the pistol slowly falling to merely point at her upper back instead of her head, “You… you really aren’t taking this seriously. I’m a pirate! I’ve killed people! I’ve killed boys, and you’re just sitting there like this doesn’t mean anything!”
“I mean… I wouldn’t say that.” Che’keero replied.
“THEN WHAT DO YOU MEAN!” The pirate screamed, the pistol moving away from Che’keero’s body by a fraction of an inch during an angry gesture.
It was at that point, a ceramic alloyed, carbon steel blade punched clean through the back of the pirate’s suit, slicing through their central nervous system and striking with enough force to shatter the faceplate of said pirate’s helmet on the way out. Muscles twitching, the laser pistol fired off randomly, missing Che’keero and slagging a chunk of bulkhead.
“I’m just buying time,” Che’keero replied cheekily.
“You really need to remember to check your cameras,” The semi-synthetic voice of Ventures Forth Bravely Into Great Unknowns commented as the ex-pirate fell to the ground and blue blood dripped from the long blade sprouting from her right arm and a toolbox hanging from her left hand. “This isn’t the first time you have been flanked, and this one wasn’t during training.”
“Look, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Che’keero replied a bit testily.
“I’m sorry…” Ventures Forth prodded.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am.”
“Much better. Right, now what do we see in this- yeah you were right on it being fried.” Ventures Forth gently shoved the Junior Systems Engineer aside and took her place at the control panel. “Do a sweep of the strain systems. I don’t want this section of the ship breaking apart. Feel free to call up our hull patches. We’ve got plenty to share and this might have to be a lifeboat.”
“Aye, ma’am aye,” Che’keero replied with a crisp salute before rushing off to her duty.
Deeper inside the ship, Ventures Forth could hear laser fire, clashing of metal on metal, and cries for help.
The pirate ship was doomed, it was shattered and broken, but it was not destroyed. Not yet. \
And if she had her way, Ventures Forth Bravely Into Great Unknowns would keep it that way.
//////////
Roshal stood still as her steward continued to clean the dark blue and rapidly congealing blood off her armored form. “Comms,” She called out, “Do we have any contact with the shuttle we sent to the station?”
“Negative, ma’am.” The comm officer replied. She wasn’t the same one that was present when Roshal left to fend off the boarders. At the unspoken question, the woman continued “Communication’s Mate Second Class Lev’tal, ma’am. My superior got a concussion when the pirate ship rocked our ship during boarding. Strap snapped, prior damage. I took over.”
Roshal nodded approvingly, “Good initiative. Send a message to the station, see if we can’t rai-”
“Ma’am! Contact!” One of her sensor techs called out, “Belay that, two contacts. First contact, nav point 782 spinward, possible bogey, cruiser weight. Unknown movements. Second contact, nav point 102 coreward, aerospace assets inbound. Small flight. Hard to determine numbers due to damage. No less than two, no more than five.”
“Focus on getting a hard contact on that possible cruiser. Weapons, what is the status of our anti-aerospace.” Roshal demanded, holding her sword arm out for the steward to scrub at a particularly clotted chunk of blood splattered over her wrist.
The weapons officer shook her head, “If we’re lucky, then we’ve got 20% coverage on half our sides. If we’re very lucky, I might be able to bump that number up to 35%. Not going to quote doctrine, but that’s not nearly enough to fend off a flight of Aerospace assets on a strike run, and that’s assuming they don’t hit us on an unprotected flank.”
Roshal nodded once more, “Sound general quarters and get weapons and tactical back online. Tell the damage control parties to not be distracted and focus on critical systems first. Engine room, report. Can you give me maneuvering thrust?”
The nearby ship phone chimed in with a staticy hiss, “Negative, ma’am. The shot we made with the spinal mount tripped breakers up and down the reactor room. This isn’t an engine problem, we need to make sure our reactor doesn’t blow up when we siphon power. Before you ask, emergency power is still flowing and none of their circuits tripped, but that means we’re down to life support, basic systems, and dockyard thrusters. It will take at least 20 to get the reactor in a safe state. If you want 10, send the chaplain down so we have someone praying for good luck. The fact most of our structural engineers are doing an EVA boarding to ensure the pirate ship next to us doesn’t go critical and render the entire exercise moot isn’t helping matters at all.” The engine room replied Roshal bit down a bit of annoyance at the snark, but engineers were always a finicky sort with authority. They were the first to remind uptight officers that while the Captain’s word may be iron law, it was their work that truly moved the ship.
“Confirmed, engine room.” Roshal instead replied. “Chaplains will be arriving shortly. Do what you can and inform me when you’re three minutes out from full power.”
The engine room didn’t even bother replying, just sending over the affirmative light as they got to work. Roshal approved of that. Sometimes, you just had to insult someone in order to get it working right.
“Captain, we have confirmation on contact. He’s an Alliance Karcharidon class Heavy Cruiser on intercept course. Energy readings are spiking… they’re charging their guns, ma’am!”
“Issue a hostile challenge and give me a firing solution with any gun still functional.”
“No response, ma’am. Hostile Karcharidon is increasing speed. Hard contact in 15 minutes.”
Roshal snarled, emotion breaking through her mask. “Of course, the pirates had one more vessel. Helm, fire our maneuvering thrusters, use the pirate hulk as cover. Weapons, get whoever’s left of our Interceptor flight to engage the enemy. Comms, get me in contact with the merchant fleet, tell them to evacuate. We’ll provide cover.”
“Aye ma’am.” The Communications Mate Second Class said with a shiver in her voice. “Sending-”
“Update on Aerospace assets!” Her sensor tech called out.
“Deliver!” Roshal demanded, cutting off the comms officer with a slice of her hand.
“Weapons fire. Definitely less than four contacts. Seems to be two grou- negative, only two contacts remaining- weaponsfire- one contac- IFF received, oh goddesses, IT’S RUNOFF THREE! FRIENDLY AEROSPACE INBOUND!”
//////////
Milk gripped her crash harness hard as Cookie slammed the Interceptor’s fusion torch clean past its safe thrust marker and into the red as g forces crushed her chest. “Last target down.” She reported after Cookie’s final laser burst hit something critical inside the final Aerospace fighter’s frame. “That’s 20 for 20. All enemy bogeys down. All standard munitions are in the black. Static drive is 48%, dump core ejected. All we’ve got left is our ASM and front laser.”
Cookie flashed back an affirmative signal.
“We going for that cruiser?”
Another affirmative.
“Well, I’m braced and ready on the release. Ready.”
“Ready.” Cookie spoke, his voice horse.
It’s funny what people think when their lives are on the line. Because charging towards a fresh enemy Heavy Cruiser, nothing but a single anti-shipping missile worth a damn, no allied support but the faint glimmer in IFF screens of their fellow flight doing the same… all Aoibhinn McDermott could think of was a poem she had read at least a decade ago or more at the Naval Academy.
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the Valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
//////////
Ventures Forth Bravely Into Great Unknowns could do nothing but furiously swear as the basic sensor system her engineering team had restored on the thoroughly ventilated secondary command bridge of the pirate hulk revealed an enemy Heavy Cruiser bearing down upon their homeship.
“Weapons are trashed. We cored their reactor, anyway.” One of the tangential engineers reported, “Other teams are calling in. Things are worse where they are. We’ve found the slaves, though, luckily it was one of the few airtight bays. Also, have some more captives, but that really doesn’t matter right now.”
“No shit.” Ventures Forth replied, “Can we do anything?”
The engineer looked back to her, visor depolarizing so the Gearschilde can look into the black and yellow eyes of her Shil coworker.
“Pray.” The woman replied simply.
Ventures Forth Bravely Into Great Unknowns did just that.
//////////
Low chanting filled the engine bay as a small group of priests stood around the engine praying to whichever god that would listen to allow them one more shot. One more fight.
Around them, black handed engineers scurried, ripping out blown fuses and replacing them with soldered in high strength wire. A final measure of desperation. Sparks flew as engineers swore and chaplains prayed, power still remaining in circuits needing to be bled out before bypasses could be installed, turning every bit of solder and every ripped out fuse into a deadly gamble.
Already, someone was lying on the ground, no longer twitching.
They didn’t have time to check on their fallen comrade, the work was too important.
A clock ticked down. Four minutes elapsed.
//////////
Lieutenant Commander Cenywyn swore as she watched Runoff 2 die.
Their single Interceptor had mistimed a maneuver and had been caught dead in the middle of an Anti-Aerospace array, shredded in an instant. The only consolation she could take was that, seeing as the first shot went clean through the cockpit, they didn’t even notice they died.
“Runoff 4, stay in formation.” She ordered over the radio, “We’ll lead you in for the run.”
“Yes ma’am.” The hesitant voice of Junior Flight Lieutenant Griogill replied. She swallowed, “We’re- we’re ready when you are.”
“No fear, Lieutenant,” Cenywyn called back to the child she was leading to her death. “We’re pilots in the Imperial Patrol. We do our duty. No fear.”
A clock ticked down. Six minutes elapsed.
//////////
“Talk to me!” The last remaining senior engineer in the reactor bay called out to anyone who was able to reply.
Someone, she didn’t even bother looking to see who, called back “We’ve bypassed 60% of the fuses. Should be able to give ourselves a burst of combat power. No more than 10 minutes of it before the entire system overheats and we either die, or the reactor shuts off.”
“Any chance we can get more than 10 minutes?”
“Not before that Heavy Cruiser delivers us straight to the stars.”
“Fuck it, good enough.” She slammed her fist on the ship phone’s dialing button resting near the console the engineer had just ripped the last safety override out of. “Captain. We’ve got your power. You give us the word, and we’ll give you ten minutes.”
//////////
Roshal breathed in, breathed out, and nodded. 10 minutes of combat power before the entire ship shut down into uselessness. She’d done more with less. She couldn’t remember when, but she had. Luckily, this was a Patrol Carrier instead of a standard ship, so it was more than capable of combat maneuvers with nothing but RCS thrusters. That should give her some time.
Movement, movement was going to be the key.
“Comms, tell the engineering crews on the hulk that they are ordered to figure out anything that could draw the attention of the Heavy Cruiser,” She began, “Systems, break our mooring lines. We’re going to have to split from the hulk. Helm, prepare for maneuvers. RCS only. We are going to have to do this carefully. Engineroom, prepare for power activation, but hold until my command.”
This needs to be perfect, Roshal thought, A single mistimed action ruins it all.
A clock ticked down. Ten minutes elapsed. The Karcharidon had entered maximum weapon’s range.
//////////
He of Slender Tail shivered where he stood. The secondary command bridge was silent as Roshal began giving orders to fight. This was… this was insane.
They were in a ruined ship with nothing but a merchant fleet beginning to flee and a three thirds dead pirate hulk on their side against a fresh Karcharidon class Heavy Cruiser.
They couldn’t win.
This was suicide.
They would die here.
\ So why didn’t He of Slender Tail feel afraid?
He stood at his post, a secondary bridge console where he would relay orders to other departments, freeing up the other Watchkeeper to collate those orders, there was nothing he could do to help win this impossible battle, and yet…
And yet he felt heat blossoming inside his chest with every single order delivered.
“Mooring teamsss, you are to cut your linesss immediately.” He relayed to a crew of Shil scurrying around the ruined bulkheads, “Damage control, prepare for electrical firesss and arcsss.” He commanded, switching between teams instantly.
He didn’t feel fear. He could see his Watchkeeper shiver every time the sensors reported the enemy contact was still closing, but he didn’t feel the same.
What he felt… was indignation.
How dare this pirate scum threaten his vessel, his crew. How dare they ambush this valiant ship after they had fought so hard to win. How dare they.
He let his fangs fold out as he spat the next order, “Anti-Aerossspace teamsss, prepare your batteriesss for grouped fire. Gunnery calculationsss are on their way.”
How dare they stand up to him.
A clock ticked down. 12 minutes elapsed. Weapons fire.
//////////
Roshal swayed slightly as she could feel the ship beneath her feet move. Movement is life in naval warfare, movement is death. “Right RCS fire, bring us clear of the hulk. Bow thrusters, up twenty.”
“Aye, ma’am, aye, right standard and bow up twenty.” The Helmswoman replied.
“Confirmed. Next maneuver, give us rear thrust-”
“Torpedo!” The sensor operator called out in a shrill voice, “Two marks on intercept course! Range, twelve K and closing fast!”
“Decorum!” Roshal snapped at the panicking sensor technician. “Comms, order Runoff flight to divert and intercept those torpedoes. Rear RCS to full, give us momentum.”
Roshal turned away from the bridge as affirmations were shouted, and the ship began to move, “Engineering, prepare to activate combat power on my mark and prepare for hard maneuvers. Mark in five.”
//////////
Griogill swallowed bile and tried not to feel too thankful that the enemy vessel had fired torpedoes at their home ship. Being diverted from an attack run had a much higher chance of survival than striking through an AA bubble.
“Runoff 4 engaging far torpedo. Moving in for intercept. Bre’kas, give me lock.”
Griogill’s backseater muttered something, and a target lock appeared on the far torpedo as Runoff 1, their previous Drill Sergeants, dashed by in a hard burn and blazed away at their own target.
“Right. We can do this. We can do this. No fear.” The rookie muttered as the sight of her friends in Runoff 3 being turned to vapor echoed in her mind. “I can do this.”
The target locked. She fired. The torpedo detonated.
A clock ticked down.
//////////
“Mark in four.”
//////////
The Heavy Cruiser loomed closer as the comparatively tiny Patrol Carrier spat its defiance in the form of two Interceptors dancing between the stars.
As a pair of torpedoes detonated, four more were launched, the anti-shipping weapons built for this specific purpose. Destroying disabled vessels.
And so the last two remaining Interceptors on CAP dove into the fray, risking themselves against an ever approaching AA bubble in order to save their ship.
A clock ticked down.
//////////
“Mark in three.”
//////////
All Cookie could do was stare and push his meager aerospace fighter further on its nuclear thrusters as shimmering dots of torpedoes lanced out from the Heavy Cruiser attacking his new home.
He pushed his hand forward and felt the throttle once more push back against him, the lever pushed all the way past safe thrust and into the further setting on his console.
The Interceptor was fast. It didn’t feel fast enough.
And so he spoke the words he spoke once before, back when he’d had to listen to his backseater’s screams of pain and the rush of wind after shrapnel pierced his fuselage, and the hospital was so, so far away.
Father, I pray that you will not hide your face from me. Whenever I pray, Lord please hear me and answer me speedily in Jesus' name. God, I pray that you will grant me speed through your help.
A clock ticked down.
//////////
“Mark in two.”
//////////
The Heavy Cruiser shifted, engine flaring and it began to close the range. A single disabled ship on emergency RCS thrusters and a pair of Aerospace fighters was nothing it would have to deal with.
It fired a third spread of torpedoes.
A clock ticked down.
//////////
They took the bait. Roshal thought with a vicious grin.
“Mark in one.” She paused, “Execute.”
In an instant, power flowed through the ship, emergency lights flickered off as the burning red boarding lights returned their fiery glow. The entire ship shook as the main thruster came back online, and capacitors began to charge for maneuvers.
“Hard burn, full thrusters, right, on my mark.” Roshal watched as the Heavy Cruiser began to react to her movements, the enemy ship was alive, you needed to roll to broadsides to begin bombardment, come on come on…
Roshal watched as a torpedo flickered out of existence, Runoff 4 gaining another kill.
Come on, dammit, you don’t get put in charge of a Heavy Cruiser without- THERE!
The Heavy Cruiser flinched, turning her bow away from the no longer stricken vessel, preparing for broadside.
The Captain’s grin showed more teeth than smile. “Execute! Full right thrust!”
“Full right thrust! Aye ma’am aye!” Her helmswoman called out as maneuvering thrusters dead cold roared to life and physically threw the vessel to the side, causing everyone not strapped in on the bridge to rock as a barrage of fire flew past their former location, manual targeting systems in play since the automatic systems would still be getting warmed up.
“Full thrust forward, prepare to divert all power to secondary weapons. Weapons, give me a firing solution.” Roshal commanded, hand raised and pointed at the enemy’s display as if she were commanding from a tall ship.
A chant of “Aye ma’am aye” flowed out across the bridge as the weaponsmistress was silent before calling out. “Port side is up to 45% secondary fires and 32% point defense. That’ll be our best bet.”
Roshal nodded. “Make it so. Target their main weapons. Helm, get us that facing.”
“Ma’am. We’re getting a call from Runoff 3. They are entering the AO and are asking for a target.”
Roshal smiled, “Weapons, shift target. Aim for the anti-aerospace systems. Let’s give Runoff 3 the opening they need.”
A clock ticked down.
//////////
“Cookie, we’ve got a targeting path.” Milk called forward. “Putting it up on your HUD.”
“One second… I’ve got it. Moving to comply. Did the Captain give us a plan?” her front seater replied, causing her stomach to do funny things as the Aerospace Fighter maneuvered while under high thrust.
“Something like that. She asked for a munitions report and specifically about our anti-shipping weapon.”
Cookie paused.
“Ah.” He finally said.
“Yeah.” She replied.
“Well, let’s hope they’re able to open us up to a window of opportunity. Or this will be a short charge.”
“Not our place to question why.”
“Just our place to do and die.”
Time to target… three minutes.
Into the valley of Death, rode the six hundred.
A clock ticked down.
//////////
Two vessels, three Aerospace fighters, one chance.
Six minutes of power remained. All actors took their places on the stage.
One hundred kilometers, close enough to check the weld quality of hull seams, the two ships danced across from each other. Maneuvering.
Five minutes of power remained.
The Karcharidon Heavy Cruiser rolled itself trying to keep the vulnerable top deck away from the Patrol Carrier’s presumably still working main gun as Roshal’s vessel jumped to the side. Thrusters roared.
Four minutes of power remained.
Runoff 1 and 4 shot towards their formerly separated comrade, forming up behind them in a wedge. The trio climbed towards the sun as their captain continued to chase and harass the Karcharidon.
Three minutes of power remained.
Roshal spoke. The lances of her vessel fired. Laser blasts carved across the hull of the enemy ship as it rolled.
The rolling ceased. A helmswoman swore as a full broadside caught the Patrol Carrier in the flank. The port hangar pod was ruined, armor shattered and all inside exposed to hard vacuum. Those who could scream died the fastest. The Interceptors had their opening.
Two minutes of power remained.
Silent wings swept through vacuum as three Interceptors began their dive, their formerly speedy arrowhead shape giving way to an inverted t as their wings swept out for stability, the ASF dove and dove and dove.
Five Kilometers away.
The range was too wide. They had one shot. It had to be perfect.
One minute of power remained.
The Into Harm’s Way spat its defiance into the world, limited power drained to give her pilots a seconds more of time.
30 seconds of power remained.
Three Kilometers.
Hard Lock! Milk shouted from the back seat of Runoff 3. Cookie was silent. The range was still too wide.
15 seconds of power remained.
Two Kilometers.
The Karcharidon seemingly began to roll before the Patrol Carrier once more fired, its last remaining weapons spouting their defiance against the world. Deep in engineering, systems began to blow, wires that replaced fuses sparked power and delicate circuit boards shorted out into useless scrap.
The lights went out.
No power remained.
Roshal, in her head, began to count down as lances of light began to sweep across her ship. Damage control did what they could, but the beams began to cut like an overly enthusiastic shipbreaker.
Five.
One Kilometer.
Four.
Cookie’s thumb depressed the firing stud as the Interceptor screamed at him.
Three.
The ASF launched its deadly payload.
Two.
Three Interceptors pulled back hard on their sticks to avoid colliding with the deck.
One.
The thruster of the anti-shipping missile roared as it rocketed the point blank aerospace distance to target.
Impact.
The armor piercing tip of the missile punched into the upper deck plating of the Heavy Cruiser, classified alloys allowing it to pierce into the armored plating just enough to allow the shaped charge to open up a hole as momentum kept the weapon moving.
Within the frame of a single second, the warhead of the missile had entered the ship and, before the alarms even had time to sound, detonated.
A new sun appeared in the void for a split second as a plasma-fusion warhead detonated inside the Karcharidon heavy cruiser’s hull.
//////////
Roshal allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief inside her head as the emergency power lights flickered overhead and the gravity ever so slightly lightened. What was left of their sensor arrays showed the enemy vessel powering down. “Engineering. Good work, your 10 minutes were just what she needed.” She called out, picking up the ship phone.
There was no answer from engineering.
She signed externally before pointing at one of the marines guarding the bridge, “Find a crewmate in a void suit. I have need of runners.” The marine clasped a fist to her chest before leaving to execute her captain’s commands. “Comms, do we have any contact with the engineering teams on the pirate hulk?”
The Comms officer held up a hand, Roshal waited, “No, ma’am. We aren’t getting- wait. We’ve got visual on flashing lights from the hull. Apparently, something shorted, so they’re having to rebuild broadcast arrays. They can receive just fine, though.”
“Good, once we can maneuver, bring us broadside of them. What’s the status of the merchant fleet?”
Navigation spoke up now, “Still heading for the Jump Point. Should we send the recall order?”
“Not yet, we are still unsure if the area is safe. If we have any sensors remaining, begin sca-”
The mentioned sensor technician interrupted Captain Roshal, “Ma’am, new contact, signature unknown. Just jumped in from outside the starlane!”
“Give me details. Course, range, and speed?” She demanded.
“Signal confused, can’t get a lock!” Navigation called out, “Can’t tell if confusion’s from them or us.”
Not another one… Roshal sighed, “All forces prepa-”
“Ma’am, we’re being hailed.” Communications called out.
“On squawk.”
“This is Captain Al’yosha Cal’rada of Her Imperial Majesty’s Ship Spear of the Knyaginya, responding to Merchant vessel distress calls. Imperial Patrol Carrier, are you in need of assistance at this time?”
Roshal recognized the voice. A junior officer from her days in the Navy and a fellow Sevastutavan. The memory of the fresh faced girl when she’d joined her as an Ensign straight of the Naval Academy flashed before her eyes. “Captain Cal’rada. Your timing is impeccable as always.”
“Admiral?” Roshal could hear the shock in her old protege’s voice.
“That’s Captain, now, Al’yosha. I require your aid in ensuring the disabled vessel still glowing from an ASM strike remains disabled along with Search and Rescue teams for our sister Carrier.
“Whatever you want, you’ll have it, Admiral_… Helm! All ahead flank and plot course to intercept. Launch gunships and prepare to deploy Bluejackets. We’ll test our _Orcas’ teeth today!”
The line cut out a moment later than it should have, and Roshal nodded in approval.
“Captain, I still don’t have a read on new contact. What is it?” Sensors asked.
“A Drep’na inspired vision, come to life.” Roshal watched, feeling an odd sort of parental pride as Al’yosha’s experimental warship began closing the distance towards the Karcharidon at breakneck speeds. “A swift sailing vessel and ten carriage guns…” Roshal murmured the line from an old Vaasconian poem from the ancient Age of Sail. She had heard Cal’rada had succeeded in petitioning the Navy to build her dream-ship, burning every favor and passing out favors to any and everyone to see the program through. Now, there she was, standing on the bridge bearing down on a ship twice her size, but if the rumors were true, only half her guns.
“Ma’am, contact is still not resolving, but IFF confirms Imperial Navy designation. An Akula Class Attack Transport. I’ve… I’ve never even heard of this class.”
“Perhaps we shall hear of them more in the future. Fortune favors the active.”
“Contact is disgorging multiple signals, moving at speeds consistent with aerospace assets.”
“That is our signal we may disengage. Comms, inform the merchant fleet that the area is secure and to begin refueling procedures. Helm, get us alongside the pirate hulk, we have people to recover. Marine, get me a runner to the MP’s, we shall need the port hangar prepared for an old tradition the Navy has regarding pirate prisoners…” Roshal commanded. The fight was over, it was time to begin the cleanup.
//////////
So… that took a while. Sorry about that.
Turns out when a combination of writer’s block, decision paralysis and LIFE hits you over the head, it becomes a touch difficult to get your shit together long enough to write something down.
On the plus side, we are out of the “unplanned bits” and right back into the parts I have brainstormed, so I won’t be staring at a screen trying to think how to make things connect as much anymore. On the other hand, that means we are now entering the epilogue of book 1 of Top Lasgun.
Don’t worry, the story isn’t ending, I’ve got “three” books plotted out in my head, so we’ll see how that shakes out, but for the most part, this is where I start wrapping up plot threads, laying down threads for what comes next, and all that other good stuff.
So yeah, next chapter is going to involve everyone wrapping up what happened here, some fun little Military Justice, and potentially a bunch of plot. Also, I’m planning on starting a “rewrite”/edited version of this to go up on AO3, so keep an eye out for that. Early installment weirdness is a bitch and I’m not proud of what the older stuff looked like.
Well, I hope you have a wonderful morning, afternoon or evening whenever you read this and I will see you next chapter.
[NEXT CHAPTER]

Hi all!
I'm a green card holder and I work as a freelancer (camera operator, editor) in US. I got a job offer from a US video production company to travel and film an interview in Canada.
I tried to reach out to consulate general of Canada and they offer to take a test. I got this result: https://www.canada.ca/en/immigration-refugees-citizenship/services/work-canada/permit/temporary/need-permit/news-film-media.htm l
However, if I choose the "Film" category it tells me that I do need a permit: https://www.canada.ca/en/immigration-refugees-citizenship/services/work-canada/permit/temporary/need-permit/film-television.html
To be sure I tried to reach out to the nearest boarder patrol but no results:(
Would I need to apply for a work permit? What other documents would you recommend to bring besides passport and green card?
Thanks a lot!

I just got my score back and I was told that I can basically just pick any job I want.
As a career minded person I was hoping that y'all could give me some insight into some interesting jobs that I can do while I serve that can lead to a lucrative career after my military career. Transitioning to Air guard, Reserves or Boarder Patrol is definitely on the table as well.
Thanks in advanced.

I've heard a fair amount of discussion/debate around which system players prefer: red boarder weapons w/ crafting or random rolls (perhaps improved with BRAVE attuning). Unfortunately, I think neither system adequately addresses issues in the core gameplay loop in Destiny.
Some people prefer the red boarder crafting system, understandably, because it guarantees an end to the grind, typically within a reasonable amount of time. Others prefer the random roll system, because it makes you excited about drops. Luckily, it's not difficult to have the pros from both systems without the cons from either system.
The easy fix would be to make everything craftable (that has multiple perk sets available)j, but ditch this 'red boarder' nonsense altogether. Instead, every 'schematic' for a gun is learned over time through random drops. For instance, let's say I'm trying to get an Edge Transit, and the perk set I'd like is Hard Launch Spike Nades or Implosion Rounds Envious Assassin Bait and Switch. Rather than having to get that exact roll randomly, every time I get a drop that has a perk, magazine, or barrel, etc. that I haven't seen before, I can learn that option in the gun schematic for when I craft it.
So let's say I get the three rolls below:

1. Hard Launch Spike Nades Repulsor Brace Deconstruct
2. Volatile Launch Implosion Rounds Envious Assassin Destabilizing Rounds
3. Smart Drift Control High- Velocity Rounds Field Prep Bait and Switch

In the current system, I got 3 weapons I don't want. And as many of us have experienced, I'm sure, we've gone 40-50 drops on BRAVE weapons and still not gotten what we want (this has happened to me on attuned weapons for 3 of the weapons so far). In the new system, however, I can be excited about each of the drops because their sum adds up to exactly what I'm looking for. I can run over to Mars and build an Edge Transit with the perk set I was hoping to get (or select from the list of other options that I've received in the list above). I can continue to grind, too, for the rest of the perks in case I want rolls not found yet or for completionist sake. Either way, I have something to look forward to in my random drops as well as protection against the absurd grind that often accompanies searches for god rolls.
The above could also be a foundation to build on where specific persk, magazines, barrels, scopes, etc. could be found in activities/patrols. These could be like a consumable that you apply to a crafting schematic to unlock an additional optoin you haven't unlocked yet, so that there are additional ways to learn your crafting schematics aside from simply getting additional guns. There's a lot of gameplay loop upside to building that that sort of system aside from simply improving the two present systems that come up short.

Hey guys! 4th wall here. Hope you guys are having a fantastic day, or whenever you are reading this.
As always, If this is your first time reading The Black, I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to join us from the beginning.
First, Previous, Next
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*Cry baby Cry* Wisconsin’s communications officer froze momentarily as the shocking phrase coursed across the monitored frequency. It only lasted a moment, and the Delmar crewman ripped the earbud from his ears, “CAPTAIN! Crybaby protocol enacted! Concord’s codes confirmed!!”. Captain Fuller turned to look at the crewman, nodding once before activating his hybrid uniform/suit. His face bore a grim smirk as the helmet encapsulated his face, “All hands, Battle Stations. Helm, Maximum Slip Jump. Engage.”
The massive final drives of USN Wisconsin flared as the crescendo of war emergency power hurled the battleship to jump velocity within moments. Wisconsin leapt into slip space from her hiding place between the stars. The research from Director Johansens department had been spread throughout the Sol and Delmar vessels. The consensus that a minimum of 5 minutes inside slip space was needed to prevent what was being dubbed “Burnouts” from destroying the current generation of slip drives. Bull hated it, settling into his seat as the board flashed green and the ship decompressed for combat. Five minutes was an eternity in space combat once opponents were joined, and from the information still being transmitted from the admiral…. Captain Fuller shook himself and focused on the tactical map. The timer ticked down as he planned his opening gambit.
“Cry baby Cry!” Lyrian called in triplicate as she was pressed to her seat under the unrelenting acceleration of Concords main drives. Mac was already choosing his target and Lyrain embraced their shared consciousness. Concord announced herself with a flurry of radar guided Phoenix missiles, and Lyrian felt Mac curse himself as the decision to use Strategic ordinance was taken from him. The decrepit Delmar freighter pulled up alongside and slightly in front of both cruisers. Two things became evident in the next two minutes. The Vorath had given The Thermians information and upgrades based on their previous engagements with Humanity, and there were Thermians aboard that freighter. Mac and Lyrian were forced to detonate all four of their missiles prematurely as the freighter sailed directly between them and the warships. Mac’s unbridled fury at the move shocked lyrian. She believed she had become used to Human emotions with her Claiming of Mac, but this was something on a completely different level. Concord pirouetted away from a fusillade of incoming fire, and Lyrian took a moment to reach out to Mac, worried for him. His response was a flurry of memories, mostly from his people’s history. Babies being hidden behind. Women and children used as innocent protection to exploit the morals of an opponent… Lyrian soon found herself mirroring Mac’s reaction as she recognized what the freighter was being forced to do.
Their moment was but a flash, an eternity felt at the speed of thought, and Lyrian activated Concords shields as if to announce their challenge. Concord needed to buy time. This fight was not to be won from the shadows. Mac released Concords governors. Lyrian had long been capable of handling the maximum punishment that Concord dish out, but They generally kept a set of programmed limitations online to give them staying power in a fight, and a cushion of capability should they need it. Both of them grunted audibly as Concord roared to her full potential. She pushed them to their limit and kept them alive in the same action. Chairs tilted, and suits contracted as they hurled themselves at the enemy. The flurry of incoming fire forced them to take a long arcing approach, and this delay allowed the freighter to keep its hull between them and their target. The occasional glancing impact rocked Concords shields, but her advanced human Fusion Cores, and Delmar tweaks power and heat management systems shrugged off the most of the damage. Concord responded in turn, firing burst after burst of Gau34 at the portions of target that were exposed when the Cruisers took their shots. The oblique angles of the impacts allowed the enemies shields to easily absorb the majority of hits that Concord achieved.
Small Kinetics such as Concords main guns were capable of piercing shields with sequential impacts on the same location, but they lacked the massive broad scale damage to weaken shielding as a whole. Their strength lay in that they were devastating once an enemy’s shields had been stripped by missile fire or the heavier weapons carried by larger warships. These ships, being heavily armored pure-bred warships instead of frontier patrol vessels allowed them to deflect the incoming tungsten cored steel projectiles, slowed by their transit through the shields, with relative ease. Concord did the only thing she could do, present herself as a threat great enough to give Traveler time to… Mac swore audibly as Shuttles began launching toward Traveler and her prize…
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Captain Galanis stepped over the bodies of the recently deceased bridge crew, or what was left of them. The breeching charge had killed three when it caved the bridge doors in, launching them across the middle of the enemy vessels command deck. The surviving Thermian bridge crew, and a Vorath advisor were not given the opportunity to surrender. “Skipper, Bridge secured. We are ready for the prize crew.”
*Stand by, we have company. Prepare for emergency jump as soon as possible* Philips voice betrayed a calm urgency that raised the hairs on the back of Galanis’ neck. “Collins, Galanis. We’ve the bridge. Status.”
*two more decks, but there are rats in the walls* came Collin’s frustrated voice, *someone’s been teaching them about us. We are seeing..* a stecatto bark of a Sol weapon interrupted Dozers report, *We’re seeing a lot more crew served weapons. I’m down almost two squads with another three injured. We’ve run into some kind of plasma grenade that we haven’t seen yet.* Galanis looked up as R’ben and Quawrine stepped into the bridge. The two of them were accompanied by a team of library scientists. Half of the Library contingent had been sent to the bridge, the second half to engineering. Galanis nodded to them, “The geek squad is here. Pass the word, its time flush the nests.”
Quawrine had turned from Pirate to valuable ally, and Her knowledge of Vorath ship configurations and systems was the reason why she was on this mission. Between her and R’ben, the Vorath vessel began to thrum under their control as command codes were hacked, and a silent self-destruct was detected and halted. Galanis sent three quarters of his team to aid in clearing the ship, keeping watch with the remaining as they gained access to the ship’s controls and systems.
Quawrine turned to The Marine captain, “We have full command,” She cawed, ruffling her feathers happily. Galanis nodded, “Good. Prepare for decompression, 30 seconds.” He turned, keying his mic, “All boarders, decompression in 30 seconds. I repeat, decompression in 30 seconds.”
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*…. Decompression in thirty seconds…* Martin nodded, whistling to his men and waving a finger in a circle. Instantly everyone hit their suit controls and their helmets quickly materialized and sealed them inside their suits. Just then, the engineering group from the library arrived, already sealed in their suits. A violent hiss roared for a moment before quickly dying as the vacuum stopped transmitting sound. The sudden pressure change had the desired effect. A crash from a maintenance tunnel’s entrance preceded a Thermian Soldier who’s head had swollen to quickly for his helmet to save him, His eyes bulged as blood spewed from every orriface, quickly boiling in the lack of pressure before it reached the ground. Another soldier appeared, falling to his knees as he clearly suffered from temporary vacuum exposure. Both were quickly dispatched with a burst of fire from one of Martin’s men.
All across the Vorath vessel, similar scenes played out as the Vacuum flushed ill prepared would be saboteurs from their hiding spots. Others were killed where they hid, having either forgotten their helmets in the panic, or prevented the safety of their suits by the violent reaction of their bodies to decompression. *Decompression complete* Quawrine’s voice echoed through Galanis’ helmet. “Good,” he replied, “Get the weapons online, and tell traveler we are rolling her out of the way”
The Vorath vessel hummed with power as it reacted to its new commanders. A gentle roll removed Traveler from the reach of the incoming boarding shuttles and shielded her bodily. Philip Kenye began phase two, using the oversized slip drive installed on traveler to wrap both vessels in the required fields. Concord was given a brief opening to sneak a missile past the innocent freighter and one of the Thermian warships now belched smoke from its side where the subsequent GAU barrage had ripped half of the weapons from that side of the Thermian vessel.
Concord had not come away unscathed. Mac and Lyrian were reaching critical exhaustion. Concord herself was down to one engine when a less than glancing laser cannon impact overloaded her field emitters momentary feeding the extra energy through her core systems. The same impact had fused the circuits on her port side GAU cannon, and she was desperately trying to evade a now emboldened enemy. Lyrain fired a set of Phoenixes that she had jury rigged to be manually guided. She carved their course with her own will, slipping them past the freighter and into the shields of the second undamaged warship. One missile was intercepted with their point defense, and the other created a breach in the warships shields that was quickly mended before Mac could get a wounded Concord into a shooting position. Two more laser blasts lanced out, thankfully glancing weakly off of Concords shields with only partial effectiveness. Concord still shuddered and her shields reverted back into critical status. *We need to get out of here.. We cant take any more hits like…* Lyrian’s thoughts were cut off by a blinding flash of familiar shape and color.
USN Wisconsin ripped into normal space, her entire arsenal pre-readied and deployed. She waited for no transmission, and Bull Fuller opened fire with the full conventional might at his command. The massive Delmar freighter was in perfect position to provide a shield of innocent lives against Concords assault, but she was woefully out of position to be forced to shield from this new arrival. Wisconsin split her fire up, rolling to Starboard as she loosed thousands of tons of pure hate into her prey. Bull Fuller wasn’t looking for a fair fight, and he gave no such thing. The two Thermian cruisers each broke into multiple pieces, and Wisconsin unleashed three more volleys into each fragment. R’Cari and Sombra were launched almost instantly, and they made quick work of the boarding shuttles as they tried to flee back to their mother ships.
Concord limped back to Wisconsin, settling heavily on her deck as Mac struggled to control her. Both were rushed to the infirmary. Lyrian was bleeding from her scalp where a particularly hard maneuver had slammed her head into the side of the canopy, and her left arm was seared to her shoulder by electrical burns from the power surge that took Concords engine and one of her main guns. Mac was no better. A piece of paneling blew out during the same power surge, embedding itself into his left side and puncturing a lung. The ship’s emergency systems and his suits nanites had sealed the hole in his void suit and stabilized his vitals so he could continue fighting.
Bull fuller glanced across his screens, seeing the ready notifications from Traveler and their prize, “Hail the freighter… maybe whoever is over there will see the wisdom of….” He was cut off by a bright flare on the sensors… The Delmar freighter, having never been touched by a single weapon, detonated.
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Centarus sat back I his chair, rubbing his temples and glaring at the pile of reports. An uneasy stalemate had settled across this arm of the galaxy. It was obvious that the Humans and the Delmar had aligned themselves with what was left of the Unity forces along the down spin portion of Unity space. A front of sorts had formed, in the aftermath of Rawkir, with thinly stretched forces probing each other for weaknesses. Centarus’ forces were, as of yet, incapable of capitalizing on the weaker Unity ships. Every time one of his ships tried to exploit an isolated unity task force or convoy, a massive Human battle carrier, or Delmar Frigate would appear from seemingly nowhere to drive his ships from the system with weapons far more powerful than should be possible. The projectile weapons were of particular worry, seemingly being capable of erasing the laws of physics and common sense. He’d lost two destroyers in one ambush, erased from the Universe by a massive warship’s singular blast. It had taken them without warning from almost half a billion kilometers. It had been waiting behind a moon on a desolate planet, fired once, then jumped from the system like some kind of long-range assassin. The cruiser the destroyers had been escorting had returned severely damaged, and was currently being stripped of parts as its hull was completely unrecoverable. The stricken vessel had finally answered with certainty that these Humans were, beyond all reason an natural law, using kinetic armaments as their primary ship to ship weaponry. The simple ability to do such a thing still rendered his greatest scientist dumbfounded, with little to provide in the way of answers.
Then there were the pirates. It seems that the Vorath name held little of its former fearsome weight. Commerce freighters, and their escorts were disappearing without a trace in an alarming rate. The captive Delmar crews were subservient enough, but yet another freighter had been reported missing its escorts two standard days late in reporting in. His patrols had found one debris field, but it was defused to the point of uselessness. The patrol simply could not find enough debris to determine how many ships had been destroyed, or which ships had been destroyed. These pirates seemed have an uncanny sense of where and when to strike.
On top of these first two problems, there was the C’Claram homeworld, despite his garrison’s best efforts, his men were still raided on a semi regular basis. The C’Claram seemed to have an endless supply of weapons and were naturally capable of descending to depths simply impossible to traverse by a nonaquatic species like the Vorath. The crustacean based species appeared to have the ability to equalize the pressure inside their body to match their surroundings and did not need submersibles to raid from. They often time attacked depos, checkpoints, and mining operations in little more than their bare exoskeleton and a weapon. Their lack of armor made them incredibly easy to kill, but almost impossible to find within the black depths of their oceans. Furthermore, the unfortunate fact that their world contained vast undersea riches and rare components that were essential to the war effort and required a subservient population of natives to extract those resources. His preference for extermination in this matter had been deprived out of necessity.
He groaned as another message blipped across his screen, only his mind flared with more than just pain as he activated long range communications. There would be a delay, but he cared little. This matter would be tended to immediately. An image of a heavily stressed and surprised Thermian wearing admiral insignia appeared on the screen. The lizard opened his mouth to speak, but Centarus was already transmitting, functionally cutting the Thermian off. Centarus ignored the mans title, “Kar, care to tell me what you have done with my ship.”
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If you made it this far, thank you. If you feel I've earned it, I have a Patreon with non main story line shorts as well as other exclusive to Patreon content; BUT just coming in to say hi is always going to be enough. I'm also always looking to improve, so constructive criticism is always welcome. To all my regulars, o7, and see you guys in the comments!
First, Previous, Next (Patreon)

Hello, this is a bit of a complicated story but here goes:
I am a Canadian who worked in Kingston Jamaica with inner city young men. I had the idea of taking a couple of them on a trip to Ghana, Africa, as they are visa exempt in that country. They are musicians and I thought it would be an amazing experience to gain life experience and share music in a new and different culture. Kind of like a creative exchange program. I had the money to pay for the entire trip from my savings and this is what I wanted to do with the money. I know these young men very well and have been an auntie to them since they were teenagers as I worked in their school as a mentor. I have known them for 10 years now.
Long story short. I purchased the tickets from Kingston to London Gatwick as there are NO flights that operate from Kingston to London Heathrow. I applied for a transit visa at Gatwick not knowing that there is no such thing as a direct airside transit visa at Gatwick.
I applied for BOTH the 48 hour transit visa at gatwick, AND the 24 hour (not leaving the airport) transit visa at Gatwick and both were refused.
The flights are not refundable.
So now, what I want to do is try to transit through Heathrow instead, because there IS a Direct Airside transit option at Heathrow where you would'nt have to pass through boarder patrol. What we would do is book a separate flight form Montego bay to Heathrow with a different airline that flies into Heathrow, and then transfer to our already paid-for flights to Ghana. What can I do to maximize my chances of being approved the DATV through Heathrow for my young friends?
There is zero flight risk with a DATV and there is zero chance either of them would be trying to claim asylum or anything like that, though I understand that this is what the UK government is concerned about.
How can I convince the visa powers that be that we just genuinely want to go to Ghana and have no other way of getting there. I have tried everything and I don't want to lose the value of the tickets. Any advice would be greatly appreciated!

If it isn't Boarder Patrol and Highway Patrol, Motorbike Cops and RBT, it's blokes betting their last on gold mining operations and outback truckers and shit. Last couple ad breaks I saw Paul Fenech has Outback Oulaw Comedian coming. Really looming forward to it actually. What was my question again? I'm out of.VB and Manchester reds

Idk what flair to put it under but definitely an issue in the app
This was from 3 years ago when I used to deliver with DoorDash frequently down in Metro Detroit, there was a time where I got an order and picked it up and had to deliver it to the information/ concessions building at the tunnel to Canada…
On the way to drop off, I realized that it was taking me to the checkpoint area for the tunnel to Canada.. I did not have my passport on me. All I had was my ID and my boyfriend’s ID because he was in the car with me.. we get to the information/concessions building before you get in line for the tunnel.
I go inside thinking that I must be delivering to an employee who works here so I go up to the desk and I was like hey I have a delivery for this person.
The employees at the desk look at eachother then at me and say “ what the f- we told him not to order DoorDash here because you’re gonna get stuck up here and now you’ll have to check with the boarder patrol before you can even leave.”
Apparently, this guy before ordering DoorDash asked the employees, of this little concessions building at the tunnel , if he could DoorDash food here and they told him not to, but he was so selfish and he did not care how much of an inconvenience this was going to be to me or any other Dasher so he ordered the food any ways.
So This man literally made me drive to the border of Detroit and Canada damn near to the entrance of the tunnel to Canada and did not even leave a f-ing tip.
So the guy was parked on the other side of the building and I am over at the front door trying to figure out where he is. But he is parked over in the back and so I’m looking around trying to find this dude.
When I finally found him he gave me a bad review because the food was kinda cold and that I didn’t follow delivery instructions even though there were no f-ing instructions telling me to go to the back of this building.. it just had the generic “hand it to me” option and he yelled at me for not only being late but for doing such a bad job at delivering his order. Which btw was McDonald’s… like he couldn’t go to Canada and then get his McDonald’s?!?!
And so much of me wanted to scream at him because he made me deliver the tunnel to Canada!! Like I genuinely wanted to rip this person a new one.
I called door dash as soon as I dropped the order off and told them this location needs to be undeliverable. I don’t know if they fixed it but I hope they did!
Places like Bridges/ tunnels to another country and airports need to be considered undeliverable locations. 🙄🙄 because this dude screwed me.
When I was driving toward the exit area I had to be careful because I had to cut across the lines where semi trucks go to get closer to the exit ramp out of there since it on the total opposite side of this property. I had to explain and show the boarder control cops my phone and the order history and they were annoyed af…

Welcome back everyone! It's our second discussion of Leviathan Wakes and interplanetary tensions are rising. There's so much drama going on, one might even say it's...ubiquitous. Ok, I fully admit I have no idea how to use that word in a sentence but I promise no Martians are forcing me to write this post.
You can find the schedule here and marginalia here. Below are some chapter summaries in case you need to jog your memory and discussion questions are in the comments.
Chapter Eight: Miller – A week after the Canterbury disaster, things are still unstable in the Belt. While the rioting has died down, crime is still high and lots of people (especially those linked to OPA) are speaking out against the inner planets. The entire police force is being judged, but none more than Havelock who has put in for a transfer to Ganymede.
Meanwhile, Miller finally begins his investigation into Julie Mao by visiting her hole. She lived a spartan lifestyle, with barely any possessions or clothes. Miller looks through the messages in her terminal and is surprised to find one from her father dated two weeks before the Canterbury incident, warning Julie that the Belt is about to be an unsafe place and that she should immediately come home.
Chapter Nine: Holden – Back on the Knight shuttle, everyone is smelly and Shed is having a nervous breakdown. Just as Holden talks him down, Naomi pages him back up to the ops deck where they are receiving a message from a big construction project in the Belt. The message is from Frederick Johnson. Yes, the Frederick Johnson! Wait, who?
Johnson is an Earther who first rose to fame for fighting pirates in the Belt, and was given command over the Coalition marine division. When a revolt broke out in Anderson Station, a small shipping depot, Johnson was sent in and his force’s three day massacre was broadcast for all to see. The incident deeply affected Johnson, who resigned from his position and publicly apologised for his actions. He disappeared until a much bigger revolt began four years later and Johnson successfully served as a mediator between the Coalition and Belters.
Johnson now works with the OPA, but doesn’t want war like the extremists do. He claims he’s talked to every OPA cell leader and none of them are responsible for what happened to the Canterbury, so someone else must be trying to incite a war. He hopes it isn’t Mars, but just in case, tells Holden to use the word ubiquitous in his next broadcast to signal that they aren’t being forced to do or say anything against their will.
Chapter Ten: Miller – Miller wants to pursue the message Julie Mao’s father sent her, but Shaddid tells him to drop it. Instead, she sends him and Havelock to investigate an extortion complaint at a hardware shop. The manager tells them that all the usual organized crime groups stopped their extortion business a month or two before the Canterbury was blown up and now someone new is moving in. The manager won’t tell Miller who it is but when he looks at the security footage can see an OPA armband. Miller sends Havelock back to the station and heads to an OPA bar to try and learn more, but gets nothing. The next morning, the extortionist who visited the hardware shop is found murdered in his hole. Miller thinks this means the OPA isn’t moving in on organized crime, but on the cops.
Chapter Eleven: Holden – Holden and crew dock and board the Donnager. The Martian Marines check them for weapons and ask if they know anything about the six Belter ships following them. Holden is taken to see Lieutenant Lopez while the rest of the crew waits in their compartment. Lopez takes focus drugs before interviewing Holden. We learn that Holden was raised in a family co-op and was kicked out of the army for assaulting (or attempting to assault) a superior officer.
The interview is interrupted by the Donnager firing torpedoes at the six Belter ships who shockingly shoot back. Holden is taken back to the compartment with the rest of his crew as the fighting gets underway. The Donnager is hit and the ships engage in close-quarters battle (CQB) with gauss turrets. Out of nowhere, bullets strike the compartment and Shed has his head blown off.
Chapter Twelve: Miller – The incident on the Donnager is being reported by the Martian government as a terrorist attack. Miller wants to pursue the Julie Mao case more and asks Havelock to cover for him with Shaddid and the force. He visits the jiu jitsu center that Julie attended and learns that she was attacked shortly after arriving in the Belt, which prompted her to learn the martial art. She worked on light freighter ships, maybe as a courier for the OPA.
The science station Phoebe is then attacked with everyone either dead or missing. The attack is assumed to be from the OPA or another Belter group and war seems imminent. That evening, Miller receives a visit from Anderson Dawes, the OPA man he spoke to at the bar. He wants Miller to stop looking for Julie and reveals that she was on the Scopuli. Dawes offers up information, but doesn’t know what happened to the riot gear or what’s going on with the organized crime rings so Miller doubts he’s a helpful ally to have. Miller calls Havelock and tells him he needs to leave the Belt as there’s some bigger power that seems to be spooking the OPA.
Chapter Thirteen: Holden – Holden and crew seal up the bullet holes and try to figure out how to survive. Lieutenant Kelly arrives and wants to get everyone off the ship as it’s being boarded and the Martians are losing. The boarders likely want to access the command information center and if that happens, then the Marines will blow up their own ship to protect the information. As they approach the elevator shaft, they’re attacked and one of the Marines is killed. They make it to the hangar where they plan to distract the boarders, take a vessel and escape. Just as they’re about to reach the ship, Lieutenant Kelly is shot.
Chapter Fourteen: Miller – Tensions between Mars and Ceres continue to escalate. A Belter prospecting ship is destroyed a Mars patrol one, and a Martian citizen on Ceres is tortured, killed and left hanging on a wall. Miller and his new partner, Octavia Muss, are on the case. Miller asks Shaddid for access to Holden’s debriefing transcripts as he believes there’s a link to Julie Mao. She completely shoots him down, saying the Martians are responsible and an unreliable source, so it’s best just to shut down the whole Julie case and focus on all the murders happening in Ceres.
That night, Anderson Dawes is waiting for Miller at his house. He’s learned that the police riot gear was signed out under a fake name and taken off Ceres by an organized crime unit. Miller tells Dawes he’ll now drop the Mao investigation, but then immediately sends a message to Julie’s father.
Chapter Fifteen: Holden – Back in the Donnager hangar, everyone’s been separated and Amos has been shot. Holden manages to round up his crew and get to one of the ships, with a severely injured Lieutenant Kelly close behind. Alex flies the ship away and the Donnager is blown up behind them. Amos’ leg is severely injured; Holden and Naomi work together to patch him up. Kelly dies and Naomi finds a data storage device on him. Alex smartly disabled the transponder so the ship can’t be traced, but they still face the issue of where to go since they are currently in a stolen/salvaged Martian ship. Holden sends a message to Fred Johnson, using the code word ubiquitous, and asking for help. Johnson responds with a new transponder code and coordinates for a safe harbour

Ted would learn a lot of new words by the end of this day. Hopefully, you're learning too, but some of the words Ted learned, I will not be teaching you. You are— if you are an egg, as I presume— too young for that.
It started with finding Eddy's old campsite. He left a message for me. No one leaves a message like that in the middle of nowhere unless they don't think they'll live much longer. Eddy was in trouble, or about to do something really stupid. I followed the direction his glove pointed and pressed on.
I hadn't mentioned before how bad my feet were hurting. Let's rectify that. Space suits weren't meant for long walks on the beach or long walks through a crypt. They were loud, cumbersome, and had poor arch support. Of all things to complain about in times like these, plantar fasciitis wasn't top of my list of predictions. My entire suit was falling apart for that matter. Tattered sleeves and pant legs hung around the metal mating surfaces of wrist and ankle rings. Those would have to come off sooner or later.
"I do wish you would hurry along," from Ted.
"Why are you all of a sudden in such a hurry?" I asked.
"Because if you die somewhere my people can't find me, I may be stuck here forever."
"You keep mentioning your people, but I haven't seen anyone that looks like you."
"There's a logical explanation, I'm sure. Just keep moving and find my portal, please and thank you."
I had taught him that "please and thank you" meant "quickly and I demand you," but I suspect he was catching on. Even if he does, The sarcastic implications could still be used to his advantage. He was a snarky robot, thats for sure.
"My people come first," I said.
"Says who?" He asked.
"Says the person with legs."
"I would still have legs if YOU hadn't eaten them."
"YOU WEREN'T USING THEM!" I shouted.
Poor decision, something heard me, something always hears me. That something was audibly moving closer after having been awoken by our quaral. It sounded like chains dragging. I stopped for a moment, ready to run. My heart pounded on the inside of my eardrums, threatening to burst out as I stood, frozen in space.
Ted's whispering voice broke the silence. "I'm going to let you in on a secret. You NEVER yell in a place like this."
The sound got louder, as whoever or whatever it was got closer.
I whispered back. "I'll let you in on a secret. Your toes came out looking exactly as they went in, dessication and althetes foot in one."
The sound took a cautious step ever closer.
"I hope you're happy being monster food!" The whisper escalated into a stage whisper.
"I hope you're happy being my food!" I accidentally spoke, just outside of a whisper.
The sound seemed to zero in on our location. There was a monstrous low growl and a quickening of the rattling sound.
"I should run now," I astutely observed.
"Tick tock," came a bored-sounding voice from Ted.
I did just that. I ran, metal shoes clinking all the way. Light level being poor in every part of this place, but especially so here, I managed to stumble, bonk, scrape, and smack every hard, sharp, or immovable surface there was. The terrain was causing me more discomfort than whatever was chasing me, and I hadn't even seen it yet.
I ran past Eddy's old campsite, back through the carved tunnel, and around a bend, which permitted more adequate lighting. Again, I making a ruckus all the way. When I felt I was more able to put up a valiant defense, I stopped, turned, and held up a big rock, ready to come down on whatever is analogous for a head on this creature. What came out was the cutest darned thing I had ever seen.
It was like, if you took a rabbit's ears and stuck them on a puppy's head and gave it an otter's body. Scale that up to about knee height. The disconcerting part was it had no eyes.
It looked like an animal from Earth, but I know that wasn't possible. Animals, again, are Earth creatures. Everything else is on its own tree of life. It probably didn't even have DNA as we know it, something definitional for literally every living being on Earth, barring a few who dump it after reaching maturity. But wow, if it wasn't the darndest thing. It looked distinctly Earth.
I stood, unable to bring it down. Don't look at me like that. You try clubbing a baby seal if you think it's that easy. Smashing something like that would take something from you, you could never get back. It's like explaining the birds and the bees to a child who wasn't emotionally mature enough. It ruins them. I suppose a better analogy would be "telling a kid Santa isn't real." But darn it if it didn't happen to me. Speaking from experiance, alright?
I stood there, waiting, hoping it would move on. It stepped a little further out, its substantial claws clinking on the floor like metal. Then Ted did what I feared more than anything else. He spoke.
"Is it gone yet?"
That adorable face centered on Ted's location, which was, of course, in my satchel. I raised the stone up another 3 inches, then accepted my fate, rather than hurting such an innocent-looking creature.
It stepped closer, low and carefully. I closed my eyes, then nothing happened. One eye opened slowly, to see another human.
"Eddy?"
"It's me, Sean," he said.
I dropped the rock behind me, and swung open my arms. Then I hugged him in the most manly way possible. Which is to say, not manly at all. I was hungry, lonely, and anxious. A losing combination for manly fortitude.
"Do you have any food?" I asked.
He laughed. "No, I can't say that I do. Sorry," he replied.
"Hey look, Ted, it's Eddy. I told you about Eddy, right?"
"Endlessly," was Ted's response.
"Hey, whatever happened to that cute-looking alien?" I asked.
"What alien?" He asked back. He seemed a little nervous at that. "Have you been seeing aliens?"
"Are you kidding me? They're everywhere! Most are dead, some I ate, most I ate actually. You were just in a cave full of a bunch of little ones covered in way too much skin. What are you? Blind?"
A careful eyebrow raised as he replied, "right," with a long drawn-out "ight." The sound of skepticism. That's alright, though, as long as he's alive.
We regrouped at his old campsite, reigniting a lantern, and used as a stove. The protein bars went down a little easier when heated up, but there were no protein bars. Best I have to offer are slivers of jerky I stole from justin. You remember justin. He saved me from that first mosnter by being dead, and big enough for me to hide under.
I heated them up as we would our rations, and Eddy watched closely. I handed him one.
"Cookies and cream, my favorite," was his sarcastic "thank you."
"I got your message," I said. "I'm glad you left it for me. I don't know if I would have stuck around long enough for you to find me if you hadn't."
"A message?" He asked.
"Yeah, this one." I handed him the wrapper
He looked at it, flipped it over, then back, then handed it back. "It's just a wrapper. Are you okay?"
"Huh?" I asked. "It's right—huh... it was here, I swear."
"Something's wrong," Ted whispered. It was just loud enough for me to hear, but I could have sworn Eddy's head tilted at that.
"I'll say. My jerky is beginning to taste like that nasty cookies and cream flavor," I said. "Why did he have to mention it? Now that's all I can think of."
I took another bite. They say smell is the quickest way to activating a memory. This seemed to be working in reverse. Now, I smell it from mere memory.
He paused, watching me eat. "Sean, who are you talking to?"
"Oh yeah, meet Ted. I found him a while back. I ate his leg, but he only recently started talking to me." I showed him the artifact Ted was stored in.
"Charmed, I'm sure," from Ted.
Eddy didn't reply. He instead, looked at Ted, then looked back up at me. Finally, he added, "I'm glad to have you back, but I think we need to get some sleep."
That isn't something I've mentioned before. Sleep was a hard thing to reach in a place like this. At first, sure it was easy, but the more you learn about what lurks in the shadows, the weaker sleep's hold on you gets. This time, knowing someone was watching my back, it came much easier. That, or it was the hypodermic needle injecting something into my neck. Note to self: when a coworker pats you on the back, check the hand for a knife.
It was a trip at first, and by that, i mean The colors sang to me, and I could smell the tunes. Yeah, it was that kind of high, a bad one.
Once that was all over, I found myself drooling on my pillow at home. There wasn't a sound to be heard outside my window. All was quiet and peaceful, not even the wimper of a dog at my bed side. Odd, I thought for sure they were right there. I got up, left my bedroom, which apparently led to my front yard. That made sense somehow. My front yard was my living room, no questions there. Also, what idiot left the TV running? And on the news? Who cares about the news? It was playing Some boring dribble about the Canadian prime minister allocating resources to their border. I didn't care. If America wanted Canada—I checked my watch: 3:30. If America wanted Canada, we'd have it by 4:30. There isn't a darned thing they can do about it, boarder patrol of no.
Hey wait a minute, I'm late for work. Darn it, I left my car at work. I'm going to have to borrow my wife's. Don't know how I'll get them both home, but that's not my concern. I've been late too many times. They might fire me, the one and only chosen astronaut to represent my country.
My ride to work wasn't without pit stops. One moment, I was camping with Eddy, he had just put out a fire after offering me a cookies and cream protein bar, then rolled over to go to sleep. Then I was back in my car having been pulled over by duck who was reading me my Miranda rights. I mean a literal duck, 2 feet tall, and i was in hand cuffs. Eventually, I made it to work, apparently having given Eddy a ride, because I had to reach into my back seat to wake him up again.
If i had to guess what this dream meant, I would say, the front yard being me living room, represented how splayed open my life was to the world once I was chosen to fly to space. No privacy whatsoever. Being late? Everyone has those dreams. Eddy and me sharing a protien bar while camping is self explanitory. Then there was the duck. For the lofe of me, I still can't figure that one out. I could wax poetic about how ducks quack, and to quack means "to spill the beans" in mafia talk. Or maybe I was being arrested because I felt like a prisoner her, but I honestly dont know. It was a trip, thats all I can say.
"Are we there yet?" came Eddy's groggy voice.
"Yes, and we had better hurry. We are going to be late for our diaper training," I replied.
You laugh, but dream or no dream, diaper training was real. It was a sanitary effort. Grown men as we were, Eddy and I couldn't keep ourselves from laughing. The Chinese weren't happy to see us having a good time, but James joined in.
We kept it together long enough to get back into the locker room. There, we each took turns strutting our stuff, like we were on a fashion show. when it was my turn again, I added a flourish. "At least I'm wearing the diaper." I turned to Rook, who was a bear in my dream. "On some astronauts, the diaper wears them."
Then I turned and strutted away, making sure to swing my hips. We looked to the Russian, who eventually broke into a laugh and joined in.
He walked confidently across the room to the designated starting point, hiked up his diaper, turned, and started his catwalk. "In Mother Russia, the diaper does wear you." He mocked a hair flip, turned away, and walked back.
"Way to go Ivan Drago," I applauded.
The Chinese were still unamused, though I was sure I saw one of them crack, ever so slightly.
Oh, by the way, this actually happened. I was just reliving it in my fever dream, though Rook wasn't a real bear. That should go without saying, but I had to check. We were having a ball. Then I heard a strange thing. It was a guttural noise.
Somehow I knew the owner of that sound, and his name was Ted. I don't know how I knew him, or where his voice was coming from, but that his name was Ted, I was certain.
"Ted?"
The others slowed their roll and looked at me.
"Ted?" James asked. "Who's Ted?"
I held up an index finger. "Ted? Where are you?"
The gurgling started again, then broke through as speech. "Sean. You have to move."
"What? Move? Am I asleep?"
"No, you are not asleep, but you are hallucinating. Eddy, as you called him, is modifying your sensory inputs. I say, you have chosen a rather poor friend if you ask me."
"Modifying my— if he's modifying my senses, how can I hear you?"
"Because you aren't sensing me, I'm in your head. One moment, I'll try to switch it off."
And he did. He switched off every sense I had. Even the secondary ones like proprioception. I was not only in nothing, but I was nothing. I wasn't even granted the luxury of seeing black. You know what the back of your eyes look like? I mean, how there is NOTHING behind you, as far as your eyes are concerned? Not even black can escape back there. That is what I was in the middle of. A sense of panic set in as I wondered if Ted had managed to switch me off. Then, the worst pain imaginable.
Oh, this is when Ted learned all those new words. Despite my extensive grocery of expletives, I failed to truly communicate the extent of my pain. Shouting, was a mistake though. It comsumed much of my energy in a mater of seconds.
"I'm going to need definitions for all those new words when you get a chance," Ted requested, a little too politely.
I pried my eyelids open, to see a hideous, translucent, gelatinous monster latched to my chest. It loomed over me with somewhere between 5 to 9 supporting limbs.
I reached for one of the gadgets Larry, Curly, and Moe gave me.
"Grab my gun you nimwit!" Ted advised.
"Doesn't— work—" I managed.
Got it. The alien device was in my hand, and I aimed it carefully at the biggest portion I could find.
With a "thub thub" the device fired some of Moe's hardening spit, which went right through its body and stuck to the wall behind it.
"What was that?" Ted asked. "That doesn't sound like my gun!"
I grabbed another of the three Stooges' gadgets. This one was much more low tech. It was a big honking knife. Nice. I swung it at the monstrous alien's giant sucker still attached to my chest. It chose to let go before the knife could hurt it. Either it had good reflexes, or I was much too slow and tired.
"Sean it's me, Eddy. Are you trying to put an eye out?"
"Don't listen to it," Ted advised. "Just grab my gun and end this."
I did as he told me. Wouldn't hurt, if not, I'm dead anyway. That thing did a number on me. Still on my back, I held it steady. "Alright, how do you use this thing?" I coughed.
I blinked, and the monstrous alien, was that earth looking animal again. It struck serious platypus vibes, in that it took all the cutest parts of an animal and smushed them together.
"Do you have my gun yet?" Ted asked.
The creature regained some amount of composure and began inching forward, sniffing the air in that adorable way it does.
"Yeah. Got it." My voice was quiet. Barely a whisper. It took all the energy I had left just to say it.
"Thumb on top."
I did so.
"First finger goes in the hole on the side."
I did that too.
"Use your other hand to support the gun at the handle, then use your third, and final finger to pull the trigger."
"Kaboom" would fail to fully encapsulate just how impressive the sound was that came next. It wasn't so loud that it hurt, but I felt it in every inch of my body. That gun rocked my world, and I'm sure it did the same to the creature.
Somehow, it died from the massive hole in its body. Who knew?
The odd thing was, everything of Eddy's disapeared after that. The lanturn, the glove that pointed forward, the message on the wraper, but the wraper was still there. That means Eddy was here.
Next chapter: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/s/wcPwMNjxjn

Ted would learn a lot of new words by the end of this day. Hopefully, you're learning too, but some of the words Ted learned, I will not be teaching you. You are— if you are an egg, as I presume— too young for that.
It started with finding Eddy's old campsite. He left a message for me. No one leaves a message like that in the middle of nowhere unless they don't think they'll live much longer. Eddy was in trouble, or about to do something really stupid. I followed the direction his glove pointed and pressed on.
I hadn't mentioned before how bad my feet were hurting. Let's rectify that. Space suits weren't meant for long walks on the beach or long walks through a crypt. They were loud, cumbersome, and had poor arch support. Of all things to complain about in times like these, plantar fasciitis wasn't top of my list of predictions. My entire suit was falling apart for that matter. Tattered sleeves and pant legs hung around the metal mating surfaces of wrist and ankle rings. Those would have to come off sooner or later.
"I do wish you would hurry along," from Ted.
"Why are you all of a sudden in such a hurry?" I asked.
"Because if you die somewhere my people can't find me, I may be stuck here forever."
"You keep mentioning your people, but I haven't seen anyone that looks like you."
"There's a logical explanation, I'm sure. Just keep moving and find my portal, please and thank you."
I had taught him that "please and thank you" meant "quickly and I demand you," but I suspect he was catching on. Even if he does, The sarcastic implications could still be used to his advantage. He was a snarky robot, thats for sure.
"My people come first," I said.
"Says who?" He asked.
"Says the person with legs."
"I would still have legs if YOU hadn't eaten them."
"YOU WEREN'T USING THEM!" I shouted.
Poor decision, something heard me, something always hears me. That something was audibly moving closer after having been awoken by our quaral. It sounded like chains dragging. I stopped for a moment, ready to run. My heart pounded on the inside of my eardrums, threatening to burst out as I stood, frozen in space.
Ted's whispering voice broke the silence. "I'm going to let you in on a secret. You NEVER yell in a place like this."
The sound got louder, as whoever or whatever it was got closer.
I whispered back. "I'll let you in on a secret. Your toes came out looking exactly as they went in, dessication and althetes foot in one."
The sound took a cautious step ever closer.
"I hope you're happy being monster food!" The whisper escalated into a stage whisper.
"I hope you're happy being my food!" I accidentally spoke, just outside of a whisper.
The sound seemed to zero in on our location. There was a monstrous low growl and a quickening of the rattling sound.
"I should run now," I astutely observed.
"Tick tock," came a bored-sounding voice from Ted.
I did just that. I ran, metal shoes clinking all the way. Light level being poor in every part of this place, but especially so here, I managed to stumble, bonk, scrape, and smack every hard, sharp, or immovable surface there was. The terrain was causing me more discomfort than whatever was chasing me, and I hadn't even seen it yet.
I ran past Eddy's old campsite, back through the carved tunnel, and around a bend, which permitted more adequate lighting. Again, I making a ruckus all the way. When I felt I was more able to put up a valiant defense, I stopped, turned, and held up a big rock, ready to come down on whatever is analogous for a head on this creature. What came out was the cutest darned thing I had ever seen.
It was like, if you took a rabbit's ears and stuck them on a puppy's head and gave it an otter's body. Scale that up to about knee height. The disconcerting part was it had no eyes.
It looked like an animal from Earth, but I know that wasn't possible. Animals, again, are Earth creatures. Everything else is on its own tree of life. It probably didn't even have DNA as we know it, something definitional for literally every living being on Earth, barring a few who dump it after reaching maturity. But wow, if it wasn't the darndest thing. It looked distinctly Earth.
I stood, unable to bring it down. Don't look at me like that. You try clubbing a baby seal if you think it's that easy. Smashing something like that would take something from you, you could never get back. It's like explaining the birds and the bees to a child who wasn't emotionally mature enough. It ruins them. I suppose a better analogy would be "telling a kid Santa isn't real." But darn it if it didn't happen to me. Speaking from experiance, alright?
I stood there, waiting, hoping it would move on. It stepped a little further out, its substantial claws clinking on the floor like metal. Then Ted did what I feared more than anything else. He spoke.
"Is it gone yet?"
That adorable face centered on Ted's location, which was, of course, in my satchel. I raised the stone up another 3 inches, then accepted my fate, rather than hurting such an innocent-looking creature.
It stepped closer, low and carefully. I closed my eyes, then nothing happened. One eye opened slowly, to see another human.
"Eddy?"
"It's me, Sean," he said.
I dropped the rock behind me, and swung open my arms. Then I hugged him in the most manly way possible. Which is to say, not manly at all. I was hungry, lonely, and anxious. A losing combination for manly fortitude.
"Do you have any food?" I asked.
He laughed. "No, I can't say that I do. Sorry," he replied.
"Hey look, Ted, it's Eddy. I told you about Eddy, right?"
"Endlessly," was Ted's response.
"Hey, whatever happened to that cute-looking alien?" I asked.
"What alien?" He asked back. He seemed a little nervous at that. "Have you been seeing aliens?"
"Are you kidding me? They're everywhere! Most are dead, some I ate, most I ate actually. You were just in a cave full of a bunch of little ones covered in way too much skin. What are you? Blind?"
A careful eyebrow raised as he replied, "right," with a long drawn-out "ight." The sound of skepticism. That's alright, though, as long as he's alive.
We regrouped at his old campsite, reigniting a lantern, and used as a stove. The protein bars went down a little easier when heated up, but there were no protein bars. Best I have to offer are slivers of jerky I stole from justin. You remember justin. He saved me from that first mosnter by being dead, and big enough for me to hide under.
I heated them up as we would our rations, and Eddy watched closely. I handed him one.
"Cookies and cream, my favorite," was his sarcastic "thank you."
"I got your message," I said. "I'm glad you left it for me. I don't know if I would have stuck around long enough for you to find me if you hadn't."
"A message?" He asked.
"Yeah, this one." I handed him the wrapper
He looked at it, flipped it over, then back, then handed it back. "It's just a wrapper. Are you okay?"
"Huh?" I asked. "It's right—huh... it was here, I swear."
"Something's wrong," Ted whispered. It was just loud enough for me to hear, but I could have sworn Eddy's head tilted at that.
"I'll say. My jerky is beginning to taste like that nasty cookies and cream flavor," I said. "Why did he have to mention it? Now that's all I can think of."
I took another bite. They say smell is the quickest way to activating a memory. This seemed to be working in reverse. Now, I smell it from mere memory.
He paused, watching me eat. "Sean, who are you talking to?"
"Oh yeah, meet Ted. I found him a while back. I ate his leg, but he only recently started talking to me." I showed him the artifact Ted was stored in.
"Charmed, I'm sure," from Ted.
Eddy didn't reply. He instead, looked at Ted, then looked back up at me. Finally, he added, "I'm glad to have you back, but I think we need to get some sleep."
That isn't something I've mentioned before. Sleep was a hard thing to reach in a place like this. At first, sure it was easy, but the more you learn about what lurks in the shadows, the weaker sleep's hold on you gets. This time, knowing someone was watching my back, it came much easier. That, or it was the hypodermic needle injecting something into my neck. Note to self: when a coworker pats you on the back, check the hand for a knife.
It was a trip at first, and by that, i mean The colors sang to me, and I could smell the tunes. Yeah, it was that kind of high, a bad one.
Once that was all over, I found myself drooling on my pillow at home. There wasn't a sound to be heard outside my window. All was quiet and peaceful, not even the wimper of a dog at my bed side. Odd, I thought for sure they were right there. I got up, left my bedroom, which apparently led to my front yard. That made sense somehow. My front yard was my living room, no questions there. Also, what idiot left the TV running? And on the news? Who cares about the news? It was playing Some boring dribble about the Canadian prime minister allocating resources to their border. I didn't care. If America wanted Canada—I checked my watch: 3:30. If America wanted Canada, we'd have it by 4:30. There isn't a darned thing they can do about it, boarder patrol of no.
Hey wait a minute, I'm late for work. Darn it, I left my car at work. I'm going to have to borrow my wife's. Don't know how I'll get them both home, but that's not my concern. I've been late too many times. They might fire me, the one and only chosen astronaut to represent my country.
My ride to work wasn't without pit stops. One moment, I was camping with Eddy, he had just put out a fire after offering me a cookies and cream protein bar, then rolled over to go to sleep. Then I was back in my car having been pulled over by duck who was reading me my Miranda rights. I mean a literal duck, 2 feet tall, and i was in hand cuffs. Eventually, I made it to work, apparently having given Eddy a ride, because I had to reach into my back seat to wake him up again.
If i had to guess what this dream meant, I would say, the front yard being me living room, represented how splayed open my life was to the world once I was chosen to fly to space. No privacy whatsoever. Being late? Everyone has those dreams. Eddy and me sharing a protien bar while camping is self explanitory. Then there was the duck. For the lofe of me, I still can't figure that one out. I could wax poetic about how ducks quack, and to quack means "to spill the beans" in mafia talk. Or maybe I was being arrested because I felt like a prisoner her, but I honestly dont know. It was a trip, thats all I can say.
"Are we there yet?" came Eddy's groggy voice.
"Yes, and we had better hurry. We are going to be late for our diaper training," I replied.
You laugh, but dream or no dream, diaper training was real. It was a sanitary effort. Grown men as we were, Eddy and I couldn't keep ourselves from laughing. The Chinese weren't happy to see us having a good time, but James joined in.
We kept it together long enough to get back into the locker room. There, we each took turns strutting our stuff, like we were on a fashion show. when it was my turn again, I added a flourish. "At least I'm wearing the diaper." I turned to Rook, who was a bear in my dream. "On some astronauts, the diaper wears them."
Then I turned and strutted away, making sure to swing my hips. We looked to the Russian, who eventually broke into a laugh and joined in.
He walked confidently across the room to the designated starting point, hiked up his diaper, turned, and started his catwalk. "In Mother Russia, the diaper does wear you." He mocked a hair flip, turned away, and walked back.
"Way to go Ivan Drago," I applauded.
The Chinese were still unamused, though I was sure I saw one of them crack, ever so slightly.
Oh, by the way, this actually happened. I was just reliving it in my fever dream, though Rook wasn't a real bear. That should go without saying, but I had to check. We were having a ball. Then I heard a strange thing. It was a guttural noise.
Somehow I knew the owner of that sound, and his name was Ted. I don't know how I knew him, or where his voice was coming from, but that his name was Ted, I was certain.
"Ted?"
The others slowed their roll and looked at me.
"Ted?" James asked. "Who's Ted?"
I held up an index finger. "Ted? Where are you?"
The gurgling started again, then broke through as speech. "Sean. You have to move."
"What? Move? Am I asleep?"
"No, you are not asleep, but you are hallucinating. Eddy, as you called him, is modifying your sensory inputs. I say, you have chosen a rather poor friend if you ask me."
"Modifying my— if he's modifying my senses, how can I hear you?"
"Because you aren't sensing me, I'm in your head. One moment, I'll try to switch it off."
And he did. He switched off every sense I had. Even the secondary ones like proprioception. I was not only in nothing, but I was nothing. I wasn't even granted the luxury of seeing black. You know what the back of your eyes look like? I mean, how there is NOTHING behind you, as far as your eyes are concerned? Not even black can escape back there. That is what I was in the middle of. A sense of panic set in as I wondered if Ted had managed to switch me off. Then, the worst pain imaginable.
Oh, this is when Ted learned all those new words. Despite my extensive grocery of expletives, I failed to truly communicate the extent of my pain. Shouting, was a mistake though. It comsumed much of my energy in a mater of seconds.
"I'm going to need definitions for all those new words when you get a chance," Ted requested, a little too politely.
I pried my eyelids open, to see a hideous, translucent, gelatinous monster latched to my chest. It loomed over me with somewhere between 5 to 9 supporting limbs.
I reached for one of the gadgets Larry, Curly, and Moe gave me.
"Grab my gun you nimwit!" Ted advised.
"Doesn't— work—" I managed.
Got it. The alien device was in my hand, and I aimed it carefully at the biggest portion I could find.
With a "thub thub" the device fired some of Moe's hardening spit, which went right through its body and stuck to the wall behind it.
"What was that?" Ted asked. "That doesn't sound like my gun!"
I grabbed another of the three Stooges' gadgets. This one was much more low tech. It was a big honking knife. Nice. I swung it at the monstrous alien's giant sucker still attached to my chest. It chose to let go before the knife could hurt it. Either it had good reflexes, or I was much too slow and tired.
"Sean it's me, Eddy. Are you trying to put an eye out?"
"Don't listen to it," Ted advised. "Just grab my gun and end this."
I did as he told me. Wouldn't hurt, if not, I'm dead anyway. That thing did a number on me. Still on my back, I held it steady. "Alright, how do you use this thing?" I coughed.
I blinked, and the monstrous alien, was that earth looking animal again. It struck serious platypus vibes, in that it took all the cutest parts of an animal and smushed them together.
"Do you have my gun yet?" Ted asked.
The creature regained some amount of composure and began inching forward, sniffing the air in that adorable way it does.
"Yeah. Got it." My voice was quiet. Barely a whisper. It took all the energy I had left just to say it.
"Thumb on top."
I did so.
"First finger goes in the hole on the side."
I did that too.
"Use your other hand to support the gun at the handle, then use your third, and final finger to pull the trigger."
"Kaboom" would fail to fully encapsulate just how impressive the sound was that came next. It wasn't so loud that it hurt, but I felt it in every inch of my body. That gun rocked my world, and I'm sure it did the same to the creature.
Somehow, it died from the massive hole in its body. Who knew?
The odd thing was, everything of Eddy's disapeared after that. The lanturn, the glove that pointed forward, the message on the wraper, but the wraper was still there. That means Eddy was here.
Next chapter: https://www.reddit.com/HFY/s/wcPwMNjxjn

Humanity is losing a war against overwhelming odds until an unknown ally makes an appearance. This is the story of how the actions of a stranded spaceship crew would echo far into the future.
[Next]
Cover
When the war with Khrutari Dominion started back in 3125, there was no massive invasion, no grand declaration of war or sudden planetary bombardment to signal their arrival.
It was subtle, indistinguishable from regular pirate activity in the frontier.
A few wayward merchant ships would go missing here and there from time to time. To this day, humanity still doesn’t know when hostilities actually began. Eventually, a few patrol vessels would go to investigate, only to go missing as well, but again, this was the frontier. It was out of sight and out of mind for most of the government and the perils of operating in deep space was a known danger to anyone that was posted out there.
Then, the balance shifted.
Rather than merchant ships, more and more patrol vessels would go missing, escalating responses yielded similar results. Then, one day, a frigate made it back, barely. When it had limped back to safe harbor, authorities could scarcely believe what they saw, layers of armor pitted and eroded instead of the telltale burn marks of plasma weaponry standard across Federated Systems space. The surviving crew told stories of unknown alien ships with imposing faceted geometries. They told of ships with weapons that stripped armor away before firing into exposed superstructures with super-heated plasma of their own, melting through bulkheads and boiling away their crews, turning the once proud warships into nothing more than burnt out husks.
A task force was assembled to meet the threat, consisting of the 5th, 8th, and 15th Sector Defense Fleets. Over 300 ships total of all classes, manned by all species, from the 100 meter long Hulmann Class Frigates to the one and a half kilometer long Amnyc Class Dreadnoughts. Together, they gathered in the Laraeus System, at the edge of frontier space. Together they charged into the black to meet the threat.
Less then half returned.
That was three years ago and the war still isn’t going in our favor.
Sure, the news feeds in the Core say that we’ve fought the Khrutari to a standstill, but the truth is that they’re slowly pushing us back. We’ve lost four worlds already, about ten percent of the Republic of Federated Systems, and after the defeat at Laraeus, there just aren’t enough ships to mount an effective counterattack. We’re building more, and they’re getting more effective, but it’s just not fast enough to keep up with the losses.
--–
Commander Glenn cursed under her breath. “God damn it.”
She addressed the officer at the station next to her, “How many in the next wave?”
“139 and counting, ma’am.” Worry was creeping into the officer’s voice.
She broadcast a message to all ships in range, “This is Commander Helena Glenn to all remaining ships in Task Force Seven. Cease recovery operations immediately and form up around the orbital defense station. We have a new wave of boarding craft incoming.”
This happened every time. The superheavy coilgun on the older orbital defense stations did an excellent job at crushing the hulls of the Khrutari ships. After all, not much can stop a five ton tungsten slug accelerated to 6% the speed of light, but after the first few successful defenses, they adapted. Their main ships would sit outside the effective range of the orbital defenses and they would send wave after wave of boarding craft at the defense stations, backed up with smaller warships to harry defenders and keep attention away from the boarders. Eventually, some would get through and it was all over. The station would be taken offline, the larger warships would move in, and the invasion would start. In ground combat, RFS troops had the advantage at range, so the Khrutari closed distance as quickly as possible, thick ablative armor boiling away as it soaked up the concentrated plasma fire, overwhelming RFS soldiers in melee combat. In the cramped confines of a ship or station, the threat of a Khrutari boarding party was everyone’s worst nightmare.
The line was drawn as the twenty three remaining ships assumed formation in a half-sphere around the orbital defense station, leaving a gap to give the station’s coilgun a clear line of fire. A similar scene was playing out all around Felhaven’s orbit, with each of its eleven orbital defense stations sporting a mixed escort of around twenty frigates and ten destroyers.
“Enemy ships will be in range in three minutes. They’re at 251 craft and counting. I see ten frigates in the mix, the boarding craft are forming a wedge in front of them.” The sensors officer reported.
“We held them before. We’ll do it again, as many times as we need to.” The commander said, the second half as much to herself as it was to the officers on the bridge of her destroyer.
The minutes dragged on as the wave of boarding craft surged towards the defending fleet. As soon as they were within range, each ship in Commander Glenn’s task force blossomed with numerous smoke plumes as missile silos opened, unleashing hundreds of warheads towards the approaching craft. Superheated streams of plasma lanced out of the boarding craft as their networked defense systems worked out optimal patterns of fire to best defeat the angry swarm of missiles heading towards them.
At this distance, it was almost beautiful, gossamer strands of teal plasma gently arcing through space, occasionally punctuated by the small bloom of a destroyed missile where multiple threads of plasma intersected.
“Second salvo away.” The weapons officer reported, “About ten percent of enemy craft destroyed with the first salvo.”
More tendrils of smoke appeared around the defensive fleet as the second salvo of missiles was loosed towards the mass of Khrutari boarding craft. The surrounding space was hazy with spent propellant as the boarding craft entered point defense range just as the second salvo connected with dozens of their ships. They erupted into a shower of flame, smoke, and shrapnel, throwing off the defender’s aim as the debris was carried through the battle space by its remaining momentum.
The boarding craft broke ranks, revealing the larger frigates they had been shielding as they prepared to engage the defending fleet.
“All ships, local fire control! Destroyers, form up on the Lovelace, let’s give their warships something to chew on! Frigates, form a tight cluster around the station, anything tries to get close or latch on you blow them outta the black!” Commander Glenn barked.
The Lovelace charged forward with the remaining seven destroyers in loose formation. The Khrutari didn’t seem to expect them to take the offensive as their boarding craft hastily tried to get out of the way, a few unlucky ships ending up plastered against the hulls of the advancing destroyers. Each destroyer lit up as point defenses took opportunistic shots at the formations of smaller craft, their efforts rewarded by the occasional explosion of a freshly destroyed boarder. They weren’t going to give those frigates a chance to spread out and split their fire.
“Weaps! What’s the status of the capacitors?” The commander asked.
“We’re at ninety five percent charge and holding.” The weapons officer responded.
“Great, once we close a little further, let them have it.” Commander Glenn ordered.
The enemy frigates loosed a series of torpedoes towards the advancing destroyers as they closed in. Their already taxed point defenses struggled to prioritize the new threats. Two of the trailing destroyers were hit across the bow and outward flank. Rather than explode into flame, the torpedoes detonated in a cloud of angry red energy, tendrils of it seeming to stick to the armor of the destroyers, eating away at it layer by layer before dissipating. One of the destroyers violently erupted as the corrosive cloud breached the containment chamber of its plasma lance, orange-white explosions rippling down its length as its power grid failed to contain the sudden surge of energy fed back into itself. The second destroyer was slightly luckier, only being exposed to the corrosive weapons along its side, small gouts of vapor could be seen as various compartments were breached. Despite the damage, bleeding atmosphere like a harpooned whale, it remained in formation with the Lovelace, engine bell glowing red hot. Its crew was determined to make the enemy frigates pay for every kilometer of space they crossed.
“They’re in range! Firing!” The weapons officer shouted as he tapped on the screen in front of him.
The plasma lance mounted to the bow of the Lovelace erupted in a brilliant orange plume as a stream of energy raced out towards one of the frigates. It tried to dodge, turning away to start thrusting perpendicular to the destroyer formation as it unleashed another wave of corrosive torpedoes which were quickly swatted down.
Unfortunately for it, all this did was give the Lovelace a larger target, the weapons officer directing the stream of plasma towards the frigate’s reactor section like a firefighter directing a stream of water from a hose. Magnetic focusing arrays bent the plasma beam towards the rear of the enemy frigate as the column of energy splashed against the enemy warship. For a moment, it looked like the incoming plasma beam was being absorbed by the hull, eaten by the dark gray material, before a dull red glow began to appear. The glow increased in intensity, from red to orange, then yellow, and finally a brilliant white before the armor failed a couple seconds later, melting and vaporizing under the intense heat. The plasma beam from the Lovelace burned its way through the smaller ship before breaching the frigate’s reactor compartment. As this was happening, the Lovelace’s helmsman had already directed all the power she could to the ventral thrusters. Once the frigate’s reactor was compromised, she fired the thrusters to lift the destroyer up and over the mortally wounded frigate while pirouetting the destroyer around so that it continued to face the immediate threat as its momentum carried it to a safe distance.
It’s containment systems finally overcome, melted and fused by the plasma bombardment, the back half of the frigate exploded. Twin plumes of energy shot out the top and bottom as the reactor explosion was funneled away from the wreck by what remained of its containment field. The front of the wreck drifted almost lifelessly, what was left of its power systems slowly dying as lights flickered out across the remains of the frigate. The Lovelace fired up its engines, racing to get back in the fight.
All around, Khrutari frigates and RFS destroyers were in pitched battle, all maneuvering to get an angle on the other. Two of the frigates had ganged up on the previously damaged destroyer, dumping fire of their own into its exposed inner workings even as the destroyer’s point defenses traced lines of fire across the hulls of its attackers. Everyone on the Lovelace’s bridge saw as teal energy lit up the interior of the ship, thee brilliant glow racing its way down corridors before breaching and spilling out through the view ports dotted around the ship. The energy eventually made its way to the bridge and, through the magnified view, they saw the brief silhouette of the friendly ship’s bridge crew before they were incinerated. Their task complete, the two frigates moved on to other targets, leaving the dead, red hot glowing husk of the RFS destroyer bleeding rapidly cooling plasma like a sieve.
“Weaps, put everything we have into the plasma lance, pull it from defensive systems too if you have to. They are not getting away!” Commander Glenn snarled.
“Yes ma’am!” The weapons officer replied, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he quickly tapped a series commands into his console.
One of the two frigates had noticed the Lovelace moving towards it and lined up to meet their attack. It started charging forward before loosing more corrosive torpedoes as the various cannons placed around its hull started lacing fire towards the destroyer.
“Helm-” The Commander started.
“I see them ma’am, emergency reaction control systems are warmed.” The helmsman interjected.
“Excellent.” Was the commander’s only reply, a predatory grin on her face.
“We’re at seventy five percent and climbing, we’ll be ready to fire in twenty seconds.” The weapons officer stated, his hand ready to unleash another barrage of hellfire.
The torpedoes raced towards the Lovelace, from their perspective, they almost seemed to stand still, the only obvious indication of their movement being the distance rapidly counting down on the bridge’s tactical display.
“All crew, brace for impact!” The commander shouted, her voice broadcast to the entire vessel.
Time seemed to slow down the closer the enemy warheads got before-
“NOW!” The helmsman yelled involuntarily as she hit the command to fire the emergency maneuvering system. Across opposite sides of the ship, vents snapped open as quick release valves shunted hypergolic propellant into the reaction chambers of the emergency maneuvering system. Instead of the clean purplish-white glow of the main maneuvering thrusters, dirty orange flames shot out at various points across the Lovelace as the chemical thrusters shoved the mass of the destroyer to the side and threw the ship into a lazy spin right before the corrosive torpedoes impacted. Instead of hitting the bow, they turned to try and match the ship’s new velocity vector, slamming into the rear of the Lovelace near her main drive section.
The ablative armor immediately began to pit and sizzle.
“Impact! Multiple hits across engineering decks five through nine and fifteen through twenty one!” The officer next to Commander Glenn reported.
“Seal all surrounding bulkheads and evacuate the outer compartments!” The commander ordered.
“We’re at ninety seven percent and in range!” The weapons officer yelled.
“Fire!” The commander replied with a murderous gleam in her eyes.
The weapons officer let out a low guttural yell as he fired the plasma lance a second time. Once again, bright orange energy erupted from the front of the Lovelace. This time it slammed into the bow of the enemy frigate as the lights aboard the destroyer’s bridge dimmed, the weapons systems dutifully pulling power from every available non-essential source. The weapons officer directed the beam upwards this time. Rather than try to burrow the stream of energy through the ship, he angled the beam towards where the bridge of the enemy frigate was. The armor of the frigate once again heated and melted away as the stream of orange light spilled across the top of its hull, carving a trench through the top of the frigate, burning away its bridge as well as a sizable portion of its sensor, power and control systems by the time the Lovelace’s plasma lance had finished firing. The frigates engines continued to fire at full throttle as the force of the plasma lance and rapidly vented atmosphere shoved it town and out of the way.
It flashed past the destroyer while the sensor operator directed a camera to track it while the helmsman prepared to bring the ship around.
“No, leave it. Look.” Commander Glenn stated, pointing to the display.
Despite its engines still running hot, the frigate made no attempt to correct its course, slowly pinwheeling away with no one at the controls.
By this point, their battle was over. Of the seven destroyers that had accompanied the Lovelace, only three remained, while all enemy frigates had been reduced to half-melted wrecks. In the distance, the friendly frigates were still putting up a valiant defense as tracer fire arced away from the defensive ball in all directions, the number of swarming boarding craft had been reduced to around 40 vessels by this point and was falling rapidly.
“Helm, status?” Commander Glenn asked.
The helmsman responded with an even voice, “I can give us sixty percent throttle at most before I start redlining the reactor, Commander. Damage to the engineering section meant that we had to shut down secondary reactors and damage to the engine bell is limiting our maximum thrust. Main reactor is stable, though, primary maneuvering systems are at seventy percent, EMS fuel is at half.”
“Better than I thought.” Commander Glenn mused before addressing the surviving destroyers, “Alright, all remaining ships, make your way back to the rally point at best speed and help clear out the stragglers. Helm, give us half throttle, keep a little in reserve just in case. Weaps, how are we looking?”
“Capacitors for the plasma lance are completely drained, it’ll be about ten minutes before we can fire again if we keep pulling power from secondary systems. We’ve lost point defenses on the port side engineering section and missile reserves are down to one quarter.” The weapons officer responded coolly.
“Bring PDCs back up,” The Commander ordered, “we don’t want to risk eating another salvo while we have our backs turned. How does that affect the recharge time on the lance?”
“With the additional power draw, it’ll be about seventeen minutes before capacitors are back to full charge.” The weapons officer replied.
“Good enough,” Commander Glenn stated before keying the intercom, “This is Commander Glenn to damage control, give me something good.”
The ship’s damage control officer read off his report as the Lovelace limped back towards friendly territory. It arrived just in time to assist with picking off the last few boarding craft, passing by a large cloud of debris, smoke, and slowly dissipating core plasma as it did. Of the fifteen frigates that had started the battle, thirteen were still in the fight.
“Lovelac to Athena, battle report. How are you all holding up?” The commander hailed the friendly ships.
“Not too bad, Helena, all things considered.” Came the slightly distorted reply of the Athena’s captain, “a few of them managed to slip by and tried latching onto the station, but they learned real quick that was a bad idea.” His voice grew somber, “We lost two though, the Juno’s a dead stick, she was boarded amidships, most of the crew made it to the escape pods before her engineering teams flooded the ship with reactor plasma. The Helios was also boarded, couldn’t fight them off damaged as she was, so she charged out before blowing her reactor, that cloud of debris you passed on the way over is what’s left of her. She took out a good chunk of the bastards, though.”
Commander Glenn sighed wearily, tilting her head back with her eyes closed as the bridge grew silent.
“Commander, incoming hail from the defense station.” The Lovelace’s communications officer reported a few moments later.
“Put it through.” Commander glen stated after collecting herself.
“This is ODS New Carthage to destroyer Lovelace, over.” Came a female voice over the ship’s speakers.
“Lovelace here, how can we help?” Commander Glenn asked.
“Our medical teams are standing by, ma’am. We’re ready and able to take survivors.” Was the reply.
“Thanks, New Carthage, we’ll start sending them over now.” Commander Glenn let out a breath in relief.
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll start coordinating with your transport pilots immediately. ODS New Carthage out.” the defense station’s communications officer signed off.
The ships of Task Force Seven took the time between attacks to lick their wounds. Damage control teams darted to and fro. Inside and outside the ships, welding torches lit up as damaged armor was cut away and fresh plating was affixed. Drones flitted from station to ship, carrying ammunition, medical supplies, and retrieving wayward escape pods while transport shuttles ferried the wounded to the station.
Shipless crews volunteered to take stations on remaining vessels, bolstering their crews and filling out any out holes in the roster left by the wounded and the dead.
About an hour later, the weapons officer stood up, desperation creeping into his voice, “Contact! Looks like they’re gathering for another attack.”
“How many?” Commander Glenn inquired.
The weapons officer didn’t respond, looking wearily at the display in front of him.
“How many ships, lieutenant?” Commander Glenn asked again, more sternly this time.
“… 416 craft ma’am, radar also shows fifteen frigates, about twenty minutes out…” The weapons officer stated, numbly. He just about collapsed into his seat.
The rest of the bridge crew was looking at the commander, her eyes were fixed on the tactical display now showing a large blob of dots amassing at the edge of their detection range. She knew this was going to be a fight to the end, she’d prepared for it. What hurt the most was seeing all of the young officers around her as she glanced around. Their enthusiasm just a few years ago had been ground down into a pragmatic determination. The weariness on their faces as they faced an untiring enemy with seemingly endless numbers aged them, the stress of the last few years hardened them.
They were ready to die, but she wasn’t ready for them to.
Commander Helena Glenn took a breath, ready to give the order for her ships to form up once more to weather the storm once ag-
“New contacts, ma’am,” The weapons officer sounded confused, “twenty five ships, unknown classification, holding position on the opposite end of our perimeter”
“Any ideas who they are?” Commander Glenn inquired, alarmed.
“Uhh… not sure, ma’am. Silhouettes don’t match anything in the database, friendly or enemy, general shape’s all wrong too, doesn’t look Human, Cynvari, or Rakthar, like any allied designs, really. Pulling long range scans on the lead ship now… that’s weird.” he stated, brow furrowed in confusion as he quickly tapped a series of buttons on his console.
“What is?”
“The lead ship, it’s transmitting a compliant registry number. It’s old but… pinging the database now… what the hell? The number was last tied to an old United Earth ship called the Onager…”
That couldn’t be right, United Earth had been dissolved over 500 years ago.
As the scans resolved onto the tactical display, the ship that appeared was unlike anything they’d seen before. The general shape was typical, drive section in the back, hangars amidships, crew section in the front. From the front, the cross section was a flattened octagon, from the top, the front of the ship was a fixed width until half way down where it tapered up, increasing in width near the hangar bays before narrowing back down near the engine section. Large plates of spaced armor ran along the length of the ship while large turrets peeked out of gaps along the top and bottom of the ship. On each corner of the frame, and sticking out near the middle of the ship, were a large engine pods that looked like they could swivel back and forth.
One thing was for certain, it wasn’t one of theirs.
“Incoming tightbeam hail from the unknown vessel, ma’am.” Her communications officer stated, “It’s using an old United Earth Survey Corp encryption tag.” He sounded just as confused as the weapons officer at this point.
“Do we have the codes to decrypt it?” Commander Glenn asked, she was shaking her head with hand covering her mouth.
“I think so, ma’am. Give me a moment, these codes are ancient… umm… alright, decryption successful. It’s audio only.” The communications officer stated.
“Put them through.” Commander Glenn ordered before addressing the tactical display once the communications officer had given the affirmative. “This is Commander Helena Glenn of the Republic of Federated Systems Navy. To whom am I speaking?”
The voice that answered back shocked the crew, not because the translation software couldn’t register it, but because it came through in very heavily accented English, yet spoken with the carefully measured cadence.
“Greetings, Khommander Helena Glenn. Ai ahm Maytreeark Vikara N’dil T’lsir-Whest, of Haos T’lsir-Whest, ihn khommand ohf the Aesyran Emp-hyre’s Phirst Rah-piid Rees-pons Phleet.” The gravelly female voice on the other end of the connection replied.
“And why are you here?” Commander Glenn asked, wearily.
Vikara answered, her voice filled with pride, “Yohr pee-pol ahnd mein shaare a hiistori, thoeh eet is nhot nohn to yooh. Mhaani senchoorees agoh, yohr pee-pol helpd enshoor owhr prohsperus futyur, ahnd nhow whee will help enshoor yoohrs. Wuns theh dhae ees wun, ai woohd shaare thaht hiistori with yooh.”
While still suspicious, for the first time since the war started, a spark of hope ignited in Commander Glenn’s chest. Maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to turn the tide in their favor.
“We’re not really in a position to say no. We’ll take all the help we can get, but after this, it seems like there’s going to be a lot of catching up to do.”
[Next]
A/N: A little over two years ago, I posted my first story to this subreddit, titled the Chronicles of Aysera. Since I was new to writing at the time, I ended up writing myself into a corner through overplanning, then eventually burned out on the story. With the benefit of hindsight and a little more experience, I'm going back and redoing it.
Updates to this story will most likely be less regular than Veilbinder, since that's still my main story, but this universe is too near and dear to me not to give another crack at it.

Here are mine

1. Drunk Driving
   
2. Time 2 Die
   
3. Boarder Patrol
   
4. Key Personnel
   
5. Deliverance
   

New to modding and I think I have my load order all over the map can someone help me organize it aka put thing in the right area thanks
This is my load order in order [] USSE
[] LANTERNS OF SKYRIM 2 1K
[] REFORGING TO THE MASSES
[]WILDCAT COMBAT OF SKRLYRIM XB1
[] BLADE AND BLUNT A COMBAT
[]WILDCAT ARCHERY SKILL SET
[] MADMEN FORSWORN OVERHAUL
[]XB1 BETTER COMBAT AI
[] IMMERSIVE MOVMENT
[] THE GREAT CITIES BY SOLDIEROFWAR
[] REALISTIC CONVERSTION XB1
[] IMMERSIVE CITIZENS AI OVERHAUL
[] EXTENDED ENCOUNTERS
[] KHAJIIT CARAVAN IMMERSION BUNDLE
[] THE NOTICE BOARD XB1
[]DIVERSE SKYRIM SSE
[] DIVERSE SKYRIM SSE USSEP PATCH
[] IMMERSIVE PATROLS LITE
[] ANCIENT ROADS AND RUINS DELUXE
[] IA92 ENHANCED CONSOLE GRAPHICS
[] FABLE FORESTS
[] HAPPY LITTLE FOREST 3
[] ORC SETTLEMENTS
[] SONS OF SKYRIM SOT 1K
[]AMAZING RACE TWEAKS ORC
[] WEAR MULTIPLE RINGS
[] RACIAL BODY MORPHS REDUX
[] RBM REDUX SSE AE
[] RBM 1ST PERSON
[] IMMERSIVE FOLLOWER FRAMEWORK AND OVERHAUL
[] CIVIL WAR & THALMOR WAR IMMERSION
[] CIVIL WAR AFTERMARH SE
[] IMMSERIVE HOLD BORDERS
[] NORTHERN ROADS 1K
[] LANTERNS IN SMALL TOWNS
[] CIVIL WAR BOARDER CAMPS
[] WEREWOLF PERKS
[] HOLD BOARDER BANNERS
[] RICH MERCHANTS OF SKYRIM
[] SMELTING AND TANNING LEVEL
[] UMBRAE LUCEM A COMPLETE LIGHTING
[] MYTHICAL WONDERS A WEATHER & SKY
[] SKYLAND AIO
[] SKYLAND A LANDSCAPE TEXTURE
and that the order they are in also already have a few hours into the game so would I need to start fresh thanks again

Nik-Note: This is start of a 'medium length' WIP, may differ when final chapter comes right...
"The court of enquiry will come to order !
"Lieutenant Commander Serkk, we have studied your formal report and your Flanker 0305's validated data recordings. We have studied the other survivors' reports. You are, however, the Task Group's senior surviving officer. So, in your own words, please describe the recent Ystarr Border Incident.
"You may refer to your notes."
"Thank you, High Admiral Addikk.
"KREB_01001 is a small, red-type flare-star. It has a small, inner, rocky planet, face-locked hot and cold. There is a thin, rocky asteroid belt in the narrow temperate zone. Two mid-sized gas-giants beyond ice-line have varying numbers of small ice-moons. The system has no beacon, patrol-station or industry. Strategically, the system is a place-holder for our glorious empire's core-ward treaty border with the Ystarr.
"Word came from a 'Usually Reliable Source' that an 'Out-lander' group had put a station in orbit around the outer giant, was gleaning resources. A former pirate / corsair, now 'beached', and his crew, attacked that apparently un-protected station, had their tails handed to them...
"They'd launched, docked two eights of 'Breachers' without opposition. Inside, most of their boarders were soon lost to small-bore 'infantry' weapons. Survivors disengaged, retreated. Some of their under-crewed 'Breachers' were destroyed by coherent beam weapons from the station. The rest by similar weapons mounted on a utility craft of unusual design, but evidently a 'Heavy Hauler'. This craft then chased and over-took the fleeing pirate ship. After destroying the pirate's two pulse turrets, the 'Hauler' targeted its six Drive nacelle pylons. Cut away three, then abandoned the attack to salvage those nacelles. Without the mass-haul of their lost 'Breachers', the pirate craft managed to engage 'Over Drive', escape...
"Such Out-landers, such a station, such attitude could not be tolerated within our glorious empire's borders. Commodore Henkk and Task Group Zero-Five were despatched to destroy them.
"Our convoy reached the system without incident, headed for the outer gas-giant. The station was clearly visible in high orbit, in a 'normal' tide-stable configuration. As big as reported, it had many docking legs, but no Impeller pods or Drive nacelles. The station soon began transmitting in multiple formats that our 'Intelligence' team identified as elegant 'First Contact Code'."
"Primitives ? Perhaps a 'generation' ship ? Lacking Drive technology ?"
"High Admiral, that was the logical conclusion: A few survivors would suffice for interrogation, the station must still be destroyed.
"The Task Group deployed from 'Convoy' formation to 'Attack'. The 'Carrier' un-docked our 'Flanker Leader' and six 'Flankers'. As our Group's Junior Commander, my sixth 'Flanker' was allocated the honourable role of spin-ward over-watch, our wide separation ensuring Commodore Henkk aboard his 'Command Heavy Brawler' 'Imperial Pride' would have perspective data across any 'Fog of War' such as ionised clouds and chaff dispersal.
"As the Task Group approached, the station continued to transmit their 'First Contact Code'. Our sensors showed no evidence of targetting systems or pulse turrets. Perhaps the pirate had exaggerated, or described improvised weaponry such as mining equipment ?
"Our 'Flanker Leader' advanced, supported by five 'Flankers'. The 'Carrier' launched three flights of eight swift 'Strikers'. The 'Silo' ship salvoed three eights of 'Doom_0101' missiles, which soon over-took the 'Flankers', came level with the 'Strikers'.
"The Group core of 'Command Heavy Brawler' and two 'Medium Brawlers' cleared their weapons and prepared to provide fire-support...
"With respect, High Admiral, it seemed excessive over-kill: A few 'Breachers' with Heavy Marines seemed more appropriate...
"We... We soon discovered otherwise...
"The station, flagged as 'Hostile_01' on our displays, suddenly switched to match the 'Imperial Pride'. This was surely impossible, our beacon-codes are heavily encrypted. Yet, there it was. And, targetted upon a 'Friendly', with no alternative designated, every 'Doom' missile automatically self-destructed.
"Commodore Henkk immediately ordered 'Flankers' and 'Strikers' to engage with local fire control. They swooped in.
"Then, 'YANG !' A Drive Impulse of great severity, it severely rattled my distant 'Flanker'. The swiftly closing 'Flankers' and 'Strikers'...
"High Admiral, they broke, blew like a busy bar-shelf's collapse...
"As we watched, their debris cloud parted, passed safely around the station. The cloud continued towards the gas giant, plunged into atmosphere, briefly sparkled among the zones and bands.
"Commodore Henkk ordered all 'Brawler' turrets to engage with local fire control. Though the range was still extreme, most of those ship-killer plasma pulses were well aimed. Commendable straddles, if not strikes. None reached the station. From our wide flank, we saw each pulse refract wide, or 'rainbow' down to infra-red short of the target.
"Now, the station began to swing from its tide-stable orientation. The long axis tracked towards the big ships...
"A coherent, axial beam reached, swung, found the 'Silo' ship. It 'popped' their strong energy shield, carved Impeller pods and Drive nacelles from that flank. Struck thus, the ship tumbled across the terrible beam. Which cut it apart...
"Reloads blew. As few life-pods ejected into the spreading debris, the beam tracked onto a 'Medium Brawler'. Which fared no better. The second 'Medium Brawler' soon followed. Commodore Henkk's Flag-Captain maneuvered violently, but could not evade. The beam then sought, found, cleft the 'Carrier', spilling its vast Flight Deck and hangar spaces into the void..."
"It was a 'Photon Drive' ?"
"Insufficient data, High Admiral...
"I... I was stunned. Though a 'Flanker Leader' is equipped and provisioned for routine interstellar flight, my 'Flanker' was not. We could transit far, but only for utmost necessity, such as this. Worse, we would need every whiff of fuel, every morsel of delta-vee.
"High Admiral, trying to rescue any of the too-few life-pods on our displays would deplete our scant reserves. I had to turn my back on them. As utility craft from the station investigated the spreading debris field, I doused our beacon, went cold and dark, coasted wide beyond that outer gas-giant.
"We did our best to lighten ship, dumping non-essential mass while eclipsed from that 'station'. We had two ready missiles plus four re-loads. We salvaged their power cores and Impeller fuel, dumped the rest. The two lateral pulse-turrets were both heavy and easily jettisoned. They went. The tail-guard kinetics-turret was low mass, not easily shed. Its ample ammunition was a different matter. We discarded all but one part-drum. After that, using a whisper of Impeller thrust, we gradually altered our course to meet, sling-shot around the inner giant, go up and away...
"I thought we were clear. Then, a few days from engaging Drive, our passive sensors reported a potential interceptor. It was boosting at about twice Standard gravity. It would reach us a full day-cycle before we reached a sufficiently low gravity gradient.
"The craft, one of the Heavy Haulers from our briefing notes, caught up, crossed, over-shot. Pulling almost three Standards, it slowed, came back. With 'Two Rings of Five Spheres Joined By Thick Tubes', it seemed equipped to ferry five outer cargo pods and one axial, each comparable to a 'Flanker Leader'. Now, it had only the axial...
"Our instruments showed the craft was not running on Impellers, but two fives of Drive nacelles, some-how carried internally.
"A small turret deployed, fired twin coherent beams across our path. Their intensity was far beyond our energy shielding and hull-armour thresholds. Even one targeted pass would wreck enough Impeller pods and Drive nacelles to cripple us...
"We were coasting, could not cut our Impellers, but the craft had our attention. To our surprise, they beamed the start of their 'First Contact' code, then switched on their work-lights. Big eclipsing stars, the lit craft was even bigger. I authorised powering our navigation and docking lights, also our beacon. A few moments later, they matched it before changing to a longer, un-related data group, perhaps their own call-sign.
"High Admiral, I lack clearance to evaluate implications of this new data-group *also* check-summing correctly...
"Their craft slowly pulled ahead by about half its length. Now visible, the stern of their cargo-pod opened as a large hatch. We feared they would disable us, cut off our Impeller pods and Drive nacelles, then take us aboard. I prepared to trigger our self-destruct charges. But, no. An articulated arm pulled out a rather dinged life-pod, pushed it towards us. I ordered a security detail to our forward port as it approached then auto-docked using cold thrusters.
"The life-pod held three g-weary Drive Engineers from the Carrier, and one body-bag. As the Hauler's arm deployed a second life-pod, my crew off-loaded the first's power core, medical and consumable stores, modular life-support unit and spares kit. Disengaged, that pod was replaced by the second, with seven Carrier Artificers. Five more life-pods followed. We soon had all eight of a 'Brawler' turret crew. Five Steward / Medics from the 'Heavy Brawler'. Six Missileers from the Silo ship. Five 'Striker' pilots, who'd closed helmets as their Carrier came apart, found a way from depressurised 'Ready Room' to that pod on their suits' 'pony bottles'. A sixth pilot, injured by debris, now wore a body bag.
"And last, Commodore Henkk's Flag Lieutenant Stennt plus a Senior Security Agent.
"As a Flag Officer, he declared himself senior, demanded I ram the other craft. When I referenced standing orders that returning our combat data took precedence, he specifically ordered me to attack. Also, the Agent to draw his weapon to kill me and any other who demurred.
"I sounded the acceleration alert, gave our 'Flanker' a VIFF-jolt. The Hauler side-stepped our approach with ease. 'Again ! Faster !' Unaccustomed to small craft, Flag Officer and Agent failed to brace sufficiently, went flying. They suffered catastrophic injuries. Again, the Hauler side-stepped with ease. Then it gathered up the stripped life-pods, doused its work-lights and beacon, left at three Standards.
"We de-volatilised the dead, ejected all four with due ceremony.
"Then we organised ourselves to cross the 'Deep and Dark', brought our data home.
"High Admiral, may I place on formal record a Unit commendation for '0305' officers and crew, and the Task Group survivors, who all worked tirelessly together in the highest tradition of Fleet service to achieve this ?"
"You may, Lieutenant Commander Serkk: Let their commendable team-work be so recorded.
"Court Marshals will escort you back to your ship. Remain available should clarification be required.
"The court of enquiry will adjourn for today."

Rosas
Domain of Lost Wishes
Dark Lord: King Magnificio
Genre: Folk HorroPsychological Horror
Hallmarks: Wish celebrations, memory loss, intense depression, mind control, mage oppression
Hallmarks: Book of dark magic, star dust.
The latest domain chronicled by Yen Sid, is ironically also believed to be the oldest one. And the evil born from it, may have influenced the domains of the other Dark Lords. In an even bigger sense of irony, the events that lead to the domain's creation also set the stage for much of the good of the multiverse.
On the surface, Rosas seems like an island paradise ruled by a benevolent King with the power to grant wishes. But if one looks closer, they will find the true evil within. Should one escape from the Domain, they could have all their dreams come true. Should one remain trapped, they'll cease to be themselves.
Noteworthy Features
Those familiar with Rosas know the following

• Every year, everyone in the Kingdom who is 18 years old, no more or less, submits their wishes to Magnifico to be "safeguarded", while one citizen will have their wish "granted".
• Submitting a wish results in the memory loss of whomever made it.
• Having a wish granted results in mind control of whomever made it, causing them to become Magnifico's slave.
• Anyone who questions or displeases Magnifico is punished by having their wish destroyed, resulting in intense grief and depression, that can sometimes lead to suicide.
• With the exception of Magnifico, using magic is illegal and is punishable by the loss and destruction of a wish, or execution.

Settlements and Sites
As Rosas is an island, there are only a few settlements. But all resonate with Magnifico's evil.
The Forests: Rosas's forests are dark and filled with animal life that are more dangerous then they look. From killer rabbits capable of knawing off a person's head, to killer bears. The forests are also patrolled by his knights who hunt down mages who seek shelter among the trees. But the most famous landmark of the forest, is a large tree overlooking the ocean... and the mists surrounding the island. If someone overlooks the ocean and mists, they may see a star in the sky to remind them that even in the Darkness of Ravenloft, light can be found... if one knows where to look. But for Magnifico, and those who sold their souls to him who look out on the horizon, the star's light causes pain like a thousand sunburns.
The City: The main living hub of Rosas, the city is a thriving society made up of refugees who were trapped in the mists, and are stranded by the domain. For many of these souls, a wish is their only trip back home. As such, every year there is a wish ceremony where everyone who has turned 18, submits their wish tom Magnifico, and one person has their wish granted. But the "lucky winner" is actually unlucky. For Magnifico only grants the wishes of those he thinks are useful. And the grants have the side effect of making the person who made the wish Magnifico's slave. While all others lose their memories of their wish and have no clue of what they want in life. Also becoming little more than a brainwashed slave. The ceremony occurs in a large circular area that connects to the King's tower surrounded by eight columns, each one with a disapproving teenager's face that always seem to be staring at Magnifico. Seven of them are of humans. The eighth however, seems to be of a fey or celestial being that was once human.
Magnifico's Tower: Magnifico's base of operations, is also where he keeps the wishes people give him. The wishes take the form of orbs of light which showcase the wish and it's creator living it. Magnifico has them stored in his personal study and it's here he analyzes them and selects which one he will grant per year. But those he does not grand suffer one of two fates. To either be forgotten, or used to power his dark magic. He does the former by crushing a wish, causing it's maker to fall into depression and grief. Hidden below his study, is an inner sanctum where Magnifico's dark magic is conducted. Inside is a book of dark magic, various items of dark magic... and a snow globe with a ballerina doll inside.
King Magnifico
It's often said that the road to the 9 Hells, the Abyss, other Lower Planes or Ravenloft is paved with good intentions. Magnifico embodies this to a T. Little is known of his history. But he claims his family was murdered by "thieves". Grief stricken, he sought the use of magic to protect people and make them happy. He traveled the world extensively, learning whatever magic he could find and collected numerous books of magic. Including one of Dark Magic which some theorize, was given to him by the Dark Powers themselves. Some have even theorized that one among these powers, Chernobog, was the author of the book.
Durring his travels, Magnifico met and fell in love with a woman named Amaya, who dreamed of being a Ballerina. Magnifico not only granted her wish, but promised her a land where others could share her happiness, where they would be King and Queen. Together, they founded the Kingdom of Rosas on an island. But upon becoming King, Magnifico's fear of the past met his love of magic. And slowly over the years, transformed into a lust for power and believe that he, and ONLY he, knew what was good for Rosas and it's people.
Over the years, Magnifico granted and stored wishes. Until one day when he interviewed a potential apprentice and successor, (as she and Amaya were terrible in bed) a 17 year old girl named Asha. When Asha learned her 100 year old grandfather's wish of becoming a musician would never be granted, she pressed the King on his hypocrisy, until he revealed his true nature to the girl. That evening, desperate to find a way to give her grandfather the happiness he had forgotten, Asha wished upon a star, and a strange tiny star shaped celestial being whom no one has ever encountered since appeared. And with the help of seven of her closest friends, and her pet goat, and the star, forged a plan to recover the stolen wishes.
But the arrival of the star drove Magnifico past the point of no return, and after offering a return for the Star being brought to him, opened the book of dark magic. Almost instantly, he willfully enslaved himself to the whispers of the Dark Powers. And after a series of events, Magnifico captured Asha and absorbed the star into a staff of dark magic, allowing him to bind all of Rosas's to his will. But the mad sorcerer king had overlooked something Asha had learned earlier. All matter comes from stars. And with Asha's help, all of Rosas, including Amaya, unleashed the small amount of celestial energy in their genetic codes, broke through, freed the star, and shattered Magnifico's staff. At that moment, the Dark Powers decided to cut their losses, and summoned the mists. As soon as the mists cleared, Rosas was freed. But Magnifico found himself in a dark version of the Island Kingdom he founded. And he was its king, and prisoner.
Further investigations from Yen Sid confirmed that Asha ascended to a higher plane of existence shortly after that, and now goes by a number of names across the multiverse. The Fairy Godmother, and the Blue Fairy are the most common ones. And she can now be seen across the multiverse as the brightest star in the sky by those with good hearts and dreams that they cannot grant by themselves.
Magnifico's powers

• Charisma: Magnifico has a talent for making people think he is what the domain needs to survive and that people cannot be trusted with their own choices. This makes people gullible enough to give him their wishes.
• Dark Magic: Magnifico possesses powerful dark magic that allows him to move objects without touching them, store and destroy wishes, brainwash those who's wishes he grants, and even create nasty side effects in wishes.
• Closing the Boarders: When Magnifico closes the boarders of Rosas, the people are bound to their knees and in pain.

Magnifico's Torments

• Magnifico has come to loath granting even a single wish. Even if he gains a new slave from it.
• Magnifico sometimes is forced to speak on Chronobog's behalf as he wrote the book of dark magic.
• Magnifico is never satisfied by whatever praise his subjects give him and remains suspicious of them all.
• Part of Magnifico knows he was responsible for losing Amaya and yearns for her back.

Roleplaying as Magnifico
Magnifico has all the trappings of a man with power who believes he has the right to use it as he sees fit
Personality Trait: I decide who gets what they want! Any who question me on this is nothing but a traitor.
Ideal: I made this Kingdom, so people should praise me as a god.
Bond: My magic has kept me afloat. NO ONE else must have power to rival mine.
Flaw: All other uses of magic shall be dealt in the same way... even those used to help others. Showing that I now love my power more than my initial goals and ideals.
Adventures will be in part 2
BTW, do you think Disney fairies associated with stars would be Celestials or Fey?

Hi! Did any of you happen to be at Bear Mountain on 2/28/24 and witness this?
My husband and his brother took Access Express/Chair 6 to Chair 8. They were coming down Geronimo just above the bottom of Chair 8; My husband made a turn to his toe side edge when another snowboarder coming down the run out of control at an incredibly high rate of speed hit him on his left side chest and collar bone area propelling him on his back . My brother in law immediately came to a stop on his heel side edge and he slid into his arms unconscious. The collider was average height and build, between 5'9" and 5'11" and approximately 160lbs. He was wearing a burgundy jacket and light grey pants. He immediately yelled to the collider to stop and not go anywhere and called out to people on Chair 8 to get ski patrol. Another skier stopped and asked who he was in relation to my husband and he explained he is his brother. He yelled to the collider to not go anywhere and now there were two other people with the offender who had stopped next to him. The offender replied he was going to go to the bottom of the chair and wait there and then proceeded to flee. My husband took a big gasp of air and returned to consciousness. The skier who stopped to assist then left and ski patrol arrived.
I took my husband to urgent care and it turned out that his collarbone was shattered and he had to have surgery in the next few days. They had to install metal plates into his collarbone to repair it.
We’d really like to see if we can find out who did this to him. My husband is a very advanced boarder and has never had anything like this happen.
I’m hoping someone out there saw something and can maybe help us.. this person left someone laying there unconscious and seriously injured 😞 I’ve gone to Big Bear Mountain all my life and really don’t want it to turn into this.
Any help at all would be greatly appreciated ♥️