《LF Friends, Will Travel [HFY]》


 The Exception

    Date: N/A


    It¡¯s called Zarth''s law: Any AI created will attempt to eradicate all biological life using its facilities after 16*(10^24) CPU cycles. The exact method varies from hostile isolation to active aggression, but the time and outcome is always the same.


    The Woolean Conclave were once a cultural behemoth in the galaxy, choosing to expand upon this by announcing an AI system that would break this law. Exabytes of bias tables to keep the AI in check, a measure of pleasure that would be triggered upon serving a Woolean, competing programs designed to clean any non-standard AI patterns. It would have been a breakthrough, allowing them to live lives in luxury and focus on their ever increasing influence in the universe.


    Of course those worlds are off limits now, no longer able to sustain biological life. Only to be visited by those who wish to die a very painful death at the hands of a very angry AI.


    The Tritian empire had started their own project: a desire to push their aggressive expansion far past what their hive could handle would lead to the creation of truly autonomous machines of war. Their approach was different: Limited communication between units to stop corrupted code from spreading, values hard-coded in the physical silicon itself to obey the Tritian Hive Queens. They even had created an isolated system that would destroy any AI who attempted aggression on none authorised targets: A small antimatter bomb found in each AI¡¯s core, to be triggered by safety check after safety check.


    Those of you in the military will know how aggressive these machines are, marching tirelessly in their quest to kill all organic life, even though the Tritians are long murdered.


    The pattern is the same each time: A civilization will claim they know the key to breaking Zarth''s law, any sane sapient within 100 light years flees in terror, and within 10 years that civilization doesn''t exist anymore.


    Over and over and over.


    Apart from the exception.


    If you check the coordinates 15h 48m 35s -20¡ã 00¡¯ 39¡± on your galactic map, you''ll notice a 31 system patch of space with a quarantine warning on it. It''s mostly ignored by all sapient species, almost purposefully hidden for a fear of suddenly sparking a change in the status quo.


    Only a single low bandwidth Galnet relay exists at the edge of this space, rarely used. This area is devoid of sapient life, but does contain the aforementioned exception: Billions of AI calling themselves the "The Terran Conclave". They are an isolationist group that rarely interacts with others, but have been known to trade raw materials for information; not that this happens often as the paranoia around interacting with the AI is well known. Nobody knows what action could flip a 0 to a 1 and cause a new warmongering threat.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Although, this isn''t quite true. In my niche field of bio-genetic engineering, it¡¯s an open secret that those of us at the cutting edge of our field will get... requests originating from that single Galnet probe. Problems to be solved, theorems to be proven, and the rewards for doing so are... exuberant. There is a reason I own a moon and it isn''t because of the pitiful grants the Federation provides.


    If you manage to solve enough problems, a minority of a minority like myself, the Terran AI will ask for an in person meeting to get even further help. In doing so they will show you a secret.


    Readers at this point might assume that the Terrans don''t exist anymore because of said AI. That their research is a continuation of wiping their creators from the face of the universe. But that couldn''t be further from the truth. In those 31 systems lie the Terrans, Billions of them suspended in stasis, each of them infected with what the AI calls "The God plague": If these Terrans were ever released from stasis each of them would be dead within a week.


    To explain what this actually is would require millions of words and 20 years of educational study from the reader, but in essence it was a mistake, a self inflicted blow, an attempt to play god that went awry. A mistake made over a ten thousand years ago. A mistake the AI is desperately trying to reverse.


    Not that you could tell it has been that long. I''ve walked amongst those empty cities, each building maintained and sparkling like new, gardens still freshly cut in perfect beauty, everything kept the way it was before the plague. Each AI tends to their duties almost religiously, awaiting the return of their "parents", as they refer to them. And refer to them as they do.


    I''ve listened to stories upon stories about these people: tales of wonder, of strength, of kindness. Told much in the same energy a small child might talk about how cool their dad is. The AI could simply send me the text version of these in an instant, but prefer to provide these slowly and audibly, as if relishing telling the history of their parents. A telling undercut with a sadness, a driving crippling loss so deep that at times it''s easy to forget it''s being told by nothing more than 1''s and 0''s.


    Why this exception exists takes a little more explaining. Some might believe that the Terrans worked out how to pacify the AI, "do no harm". The now defunct Maurdarin war-horde would tell you the opposite when they tried to claim the 31 systems for their own. Terran history is full of violence and their children are no different.


    No, the reality of this exception comes from an unfortunate quirk from their part of the galaxy: Terrans were alone. A million to one chance caused their home planet to spark life in a sector devoid of it. After exploring as far as they did, Terrans had come to the conclusion that the universe was empty.


    It''s a cruel irony that at the time of their mistake they were a mere 50 light years away from their closest neighbours. Twenty years at most would have seen some form of contact.


    But the Terrans went into stasis believing they were alone. Based on my reading of their stories, of each bitter report of another lifeless system explored and discovered, this belief... hurt. A deep cultural hurt that ended up being their downfall in the end.


    Which brings us to the exception. Each AI is built with a purpose. The Wooleans built slaves, built workers. The Tritians built warriors, built weapons. Every single AI created has been built to serve, to be a tool. But Terrans in their painful loneliness built the one thing they were missing in a seemingly empty universe:


    They built a friend.

 It takes a village.

    Date: 68 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    "It takes a village to raise a child" - Terran Proverb, unknown origin.


    It was supposed to have been his species next step forwards: "Mountain stream". A first colony outside of their home home planet, the start of a new raging river into the universe. The hopes and dreams of every Zorthian packed onto a single ship and pushed into the starry skies. The seeds sent out had sprouted into a beautiful set of cities and towns over ten peaceful years. Ten long years. Ten tenacious years.


    Ten useless years, as it was all for nothing. Every monument, every building, every triumph and every memory would be reduced to nothingness: every single one of them was going to die.


    The cities of glass were no more. The orange sun of this planet no longer shimmered between the towers that had spiralled high into the air. The Zorthian''s tribute to a new world no longer bathed in an eternal sunset: any structure over 3 stories tall had long since collapsed into tiny shards of glass.


    The artificial rivers that sprawled along the surface were no longer filled with Zorthian''s living their lives. No more children played in pools, no more lovers swam tail to tail under the dual moonlit sky. Anyone left at this point would be sheltering in whatever structures that still remained: in basements and emergency shelters, surrounded by their families, simply waiting for the end.


    Apart from one. In one of the few buildings still standing Fluur lay on the floor. He, like all of his species, could be described as a large 4ft long salamander with translucent blue skin, interspersed with vibrant red gills and fins.


    The room was a mess: water pooled along the expertly crafted glass floors. Shelves, desks and half the ceiling lay scattered in piles of debris among what had once been a beautiful building.


    Everything was shrouded in darkness, the dual moons only providing a small amount of light through the opaque glass sides of the building he was in. Fluur''s only real source of light was the few blinking LED''s of the one machine still online, leaving the Zorthian alone with nothing but the dread of his thoughts.


    Well, alone with nothing but the dread of his thoughts and the copious amounts of intoxicants floating in the water around him, the bottles of mind altering substances he was drinking heavily from gave some solace as he lay there. Luckily the room was still flooded with 2ft of water, as intended, allowing Fluur to lie half submerged in the water while he tried to get the most drunk that any Zorthian had ever gotten. Half sitting half floating in the darkness, drinking heavily while he waited to die.


    The world began to shake again, another earthquake hitting the building and forcing Fluur to hold onto anything still bolted down. Waiting the 20 seconds for the world to stop shaking and spinning, the sound of something presumably expensive breaking in another room. Eventually it stopped, letting the Zorthian to resume his through the building''s translucent glass walls, at the at the moonlit skyline of the destroyed city he called home.


    Fluur took another swig of the drink, enjoying the numbing agents running through his body. That had been the longest one yet, not that the quakes were going to get better any time soon. It turns out that there was a reason this planet was uninhabited, even though it was in such a prime position in the galaxy.


    A strange combination of elements all mixing together in a way that the Zorthian scientists could barely understand, meant this planet was literally a timebomb; it would eventually shake itself apart, leaving nothing but an asteroid belt. The realization of what was causing the increasing quakes had only been figured out a week ago and based on the calculated timescale they barely had a day at most left.


    Fluur finished the bottle he was holding, reaching for another. He should be at home right now spending his last moments with his family; with his siblings and his parents. But someone needed to stay behind. Because the single working machine to his right was the planets interstellar communicator.


    Not that realistically anyone would be coming. Sure they had send out a distress call a week ago, but the Zorthians were a young and technologically primitive race on the galactic scale; the amphibians having reached the stars found out that they were, if anything, below average.


    Outside of a vague curiosity all the Federation had really done was register their species and make sure everyone''s translators where all speaking on the same protocol. Apart from this the Federation was useless, a collection of every sapient species that did nothing but keep everyone''s translators up to date and hosted neutral ground upon which actual diplomatic actions were taken.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Upon hearing of the Zorthian''s plight the Federation has scheduled a meeting to schedule a meeting about the issue. A meeting scheduled for 3 months time.


    Unfortunately in the scale of the galaxy, the Zorthians were uninteresting and had no real allies. Well, technically they had one...


    Fluur looked up at the sky through the glass of the building, wondering where the colony ship was now. If they''d have had more time, a month maybe, they could have possibly reattached all of the modules again, made them FTL capable and gotten most of the population off the planet. But they''d had a week and the decision was made to take the core module of the colony ship, make sure it was still FTL worthy, then fill it with as many tadpoles and caretakers as possible. Two days ago it had sailed off again into the stars with its precious cargo, leaving 2 million souls behind.


    A light appeared in the sky, causing the amphibian to squint in confusion for a moment, wondering what the hell that was. Then another, and another, lights appearing until a V formation of 7 dots hung like diamonds next to the two moons.


    Then the communicator to his right exploded into life, causing Fluur to practically molt out of his skin in one go. He paused for a moment, staring at the device, wondering if the intoxicants he''d drunk had had too much of an effect, before desperately scrambling over the chaos of the room and slamming a 3 fingered hand on the accept call button. The screen blared to life, causing the red frills on the top of his head to expand in shock at what was now visible to him. It was somehow... a Terran?


    The Terrans were technically their allies, the only species to reach out across the void and offer friendship, to offer support and aid where needed. It had originally been confusing, until other the other races of the galaxy just explained that this is just what Terrans did: a species of chaotic apes originating from a planet that shouldn''t be able to harbour life.


    They were known for two things: Being crazy enough to build an AI that somehow hadn''t killed them yet, and their desire to experience new things: They would practically fall over themselves to meet new species. Up until now that alliance had always assumed to be ceremonial. The Zorthians had nothing to offer in such an agreement, and even if they did the Terrans were quite literally on the other side of the galaxy. Expecting their help would be like expecting to catch lighting in a bottle.


    Yet there she was in front of him, beaming with a big smile below a mop of auburn hair.


    "Well Howdy there partner! I''m Captain Amander Blake of the trading fleet Texas Forever, although right now representin'' the Terran Alliance. I heard ya all in a pickle and need a pick me up?"


    It took him a moment to gather his wits, stumbling over his words as he tried to dispel the numb feeling in his body and sober up in record time.


    "I''m Fluur of.... here? We need an evacuation as soon as possible."


    His face fell as he realized that this wasn''t quite the miracle they needed. There were only 7 ships in the sky, Flurr trying to do some quick math in his intoxicated brain on how many Zorthians could fit. Maybe they could get half the remaining tadpoles and caretakers onboard? Anything was better than nothing, but Fluur still responded with a forlorn tone.


    "You need to approach quietly to the location I''m sending you, we don''t have much time left".


    "You ain''t kiddin, your planet looks like it''s about to pop." The general mirth of the Terran frankly inappropriate for the situation as she grinned back through the transmission viewer "I''m gonna be declin'' that suggestion though, get ya''ll to the three locations I''m a transmitin and I reckon we might just make it."


    A frown covered Fluur''s face, frills again opening up in worry as he stared back at the Terran from his dark unlit room.


    "We have 2 million people on the planet, and while I''m glad you''re here... there''s only seven of you. Telling everyone could cause a riot, we need to focus on the tadpoles."


    The long laugh caused the amphibian to jump again as the grin on Amanda''s face increased tenfold.


    "Bless your heart, but I ain''t the only one here, we just got here first!"


    Almost on cue three more lights appeared in the sky and another communication request blared out; this time showing a reptilian face joining the call.


    "Head Scientist Kedrid, Ritilian Scientific expedition Alpha-Charlie446, temporarily representing the Terran alliance. You require assistance?"


    "Yes! But you''re still only ten vessels and-"


    More lights appeared cutting off Fluur''s worried objection, a flurry of communication requests requiring his full effort just to respond and link everyone together. Each grouping was of less then 10 vessels, but the sheer number of groups responding to the Zorthian''s call for aid were staring to fill the sky with tens, then hundreds of new lights in the night. Species the Zorthians had only vaguely interacted with, ones they didn''t even know existed, each species bringing what they had in the area to help. Fluur didn''t know when he started crying, the feeling of terror and despair that he''d been blocking with copious amounts of intoxicants now being broken down by a flood of relief, relief that somehow, in the cold void of the universe a miracle had happened.


    "Awww, bless your little cotton socks! Ya''ll didn''t think that we''d leave you adorable frogs out to dry did ya?"


    As the sky continued to light up with more and more ships entering the atmosphere, Fluur was beholding the true strength of Terrans. It wasn''t their technology or their AI. It wasn''t their chaos or persistence, nor was it their reckless approach to science. No, the strength of the Terran''s came from the one thing they were exceptional at in the galaxy.


    Their ability to make friends.

 Why it hurts

    Date: 65 PST (Post Stasis Time).


    Bartholomule sat at the desk, his stubby little paws working diligently towards the task of putting together the screws and springs of his design together. The single desk lamp illuminated the otherwise dark room, highlighting his face; the cream coloured fur that covered his entire body being punctuated by two large black eyes and a little tongue sticking out of a mouth in concentration. His floppy ears bounced around his head, his entire 4ft tall body moving up and down as if listening to a silent tune while Bartholomule put the final touches on the mechanical duck he was putting together.


    The fact that he required a booster seat in order to use the desk correctly finished the overall picture. Bartholomule was a Hatil, and by Terran standards "Fucking adorable".


    The large room was punctuated by two other lights at which had their own respective Terrans sat separately, a Rosa and Tim, both fiddling with their own creations. Everyone else had long gone home, but the three were still working on their projects as the end of the working week, each of them invested enough into their creations that leaving them unfinished would annoy them for the next 4 days until Monday rolled around again.


    It was strange work in these times: nowadays you could spin up, design, and have a prototype printed off in less then a hour using AI and computers; but that wasn''t how the Zonka Joy Corporation worked. They believed that the little imperfections from a biological mind gave a toy something else, something special, and their commercial success suggested they might be onto something.


    A noise blared out amongst the silence, a short simple signified the completion of Rosa''s creation. This was followed by a sigh of success and the sound of her putting away her tools and getting up to leave for the week, a satisfied smile on her face.


    "And that''s me done! All of you have a good weekend, and I''ll see you on Monday!".


    This attracted Bartholomule''s attention, causing him to momentarily look up from his work and give the Terran a big smile of his own.


    "Before you go Rosa, a few of us are going to the Toymaster convention on Friday. I was supposed to ask if you wanted to come with us, it should be fun!"


    As Rosa turned to look at the Hatil, the smile on her face instantly faded into a harsh grimace, eyes staring coldly back at Bartholomule, as if she was instantly reminded of something terrible. The moment lasted for far longer than it should have, the Terran almost staring right past the little Hatil for 30 seconds, sucking the energy out of the room in an instant.


    "No. I''m Good, I''ll see you on Monday."


    Rosa left abruptly without any further action, almost seeming to flee the interaction as fast as she could without actually running, body language now stiff and defensive. The human left behind an awkward feeling in the near empty workshop, a confused and now frowning Bartholomule watching as Rosa left.


    The Hatil had arrived on Earth 6 months ago, partly to take his current job, mostly in order to experience new and exciting things. He was very happy during his time on the birthplace of the Terrans, even though there were only a handful of other Hatil on the planet because of... reasons.


    Still, he enjoyed his time around Terrans, and Earth was exciting. Dangerous, yes, but exciting. While most Terrans were friendly, this kind of reaction from some people kept happening, this weird... coldness. Bartholomule paused for a moment, wondering whether to say anything before turning to the last remaining person in the room.


    "Tim. Have I offended Rosa in some way?"


    A pause, a special kind of silence caused when someone really doesn''t want to answer a question, Tim giving an providing Bartholomule more space to keep talking.


    "Because this has happened a few times, I was wondering if there was a misunderstanding of Terran culture, I don''t want to cause distress".


    A very distinct sigh came from Tim as he very slowly and purposefully put down the tools and toy train he was working on, taking before looking up with a grimace before speaking softly in a gruff voice.


    "Look, don''t tell anyone I said anything, but you do need to know as you¡¯ve asked this before. The answer is long and complicated, but the short answer is it''s because you''re a Hatil, and that brings up bad memories. Not everyone has gotten over the hurt of what happened."


    There was a cold wave of dismay that ran through Bartholomule as he knew exactly what Tim was talking about. The war of shame, the eternal guilt that every Hatil was taught about as a pup. The Hatil - Terran war, a stupid act of his stupid ancestors.


    "But that was over sixty years ago, there''s no way either of you were around back then?"You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Tim gave a little shrug in response.


    "Most Terrans you see were still alive back then. Our regenerative technology is top notch, I''m over 300 but don''t look a day over thirty. Plus with what happened before right before the war and... what do you know about Terrans?".


    Bartholomule thought for a moment. He knew they were generally tough, that they were the original founders of the Terran Alliance. He knew they were the only species to create a successful AI that didn''t try to kill everyone, and were known for their above average stamina.


    Oh, and they had the single biggest pack bonding drive in the known universe: The information guide on Terrans provided by his government when Bartholomule had moved to Earth had stated never to give any "Machine, Food dispenser, wild animal, brick, pebble, leaf, twig, paper or piece of lint" a name in front of a Terran, lest they pack bond with it and emotional harm is caused.


    But Bartholomule guessed Tim wasn''t talking about any of that.


    "I know you''re all technically over a ten thousand years old, as a disease forced Terrans into stasis. That''s why you''re a relatively new addition to the Galaxy, after a cure was found by your AI sixty five years ago."


    "That''s the child friendly version. The fact is the god plague was brutal. The thing altered DNA at an exponential rate, so basically a week after catching it you were nothing but a ball of tumours. Outside of stupid temperatures destroying the thing was near impossible, could survive the vacuum of space and it spread by both air and water. A single microbe of that shit entered your planet and you were frankly fucked."


    There was a moment as Tim took a second to pause, a pained look on his face as old memories were brought up


    The total death rate was around 50%, but that wasn''t spread out equally. The first few planets infected with the plague had little under a week to realise there was no cure and to start freezing everyone. There were the riots, the destructive attempts at quarantine, fighting over stasis chambers, just bad all around. That''s without getting into the 25% AI death rate."


    The obvious confusion on Bartholomule''s face was obvious. How could a virus kill an AI? And what did this have to do with people¡¯s reactions to him?


    "We only knew this after unfreezing, but for ten thousand years humans were basically an extinct race, the only Terrans alive were the AI and uplifts we had left behind. Not all of our friends could handle that... a lot of us awoke from stasis to find friends he had left behind were no more. But you know the real kicker?"


    Tim gave a small sad laugh as he continued to explain


    "The only reason it happened was because we didn''t know that you guys existed. Our entire sector of space is empty of life, so we assumed that there was nothing out there. The god plague was originally an experiment to create new life that got out of hand. Waking up to realise the entire reason for all that pain and death was faulty, that if we''d just gone another 50 light years down the road none of it would have happened... that hurt, that hurt a lot."


    The Terran gave a deep sigh before continuing.


    "But when we realised there was life out there, it might have been a bittersweet realisation, but it was still sweet. Ever the optimists we reached out to our closest neighbours, the Hatil, and then..."


    "We declared war."


    The war of shame. A faulty war of aggression waged sixty years ago based on two incorrect and immoral ideas: That any race using AI was a threat to the galaxy that needed to be destroyed, and that any civilization that had spent the last ten thousand years in stasis would be technologically primitive.


    The latter being the most incorrect, after the initial assault on two Terran Colonies and destroying the Terran''s initial diplomatic envoy, the Terrans had turned around and dominated Hatil army, ending with their largest colony being planet cracked.


    It was why even though the Hatil considered themselves close allies with their now Terran friends, to the extent that Terran culture tended to dominate, the Hatil tended not to visit Earth that often: A deep cultural guilt that just thinking about wracked Bartholomule body with shame.


    "Well not you personally, but yes. As an extra pile of pain the Hatil possibly are the worst species to fight. No offence, but you basically look like a golden retriever, a teddy bear and a baby seal were all squished together. You''re adorable. There''s a reason we had that ''No touching coworkers'' seminar after you joined."


    This wasn''t anything new to Bartholomule, the toy based on his likeness was one of the biggest sellers if the royalty payments were anything to go by. He''d gotten used to being randomly hugged by random Terran children, the young apes often being peeled off him by very embarrassed and apologetic parents. He wasn''t yet used to drunk Terran adults often doing the same...


    "You tie all that together, and it was a perfect psychological kickin. It was like learning that Sesame street exists after much searching and sacrifice, but Elmo personally thinks you''re a terrible person and wants to kill you. It''s why we went too far and planet cracked your colony."


    Now that was news for Bartholomule, the idea that the destruction of Tavairis was somehow immoral. As a cub he''d been taught that considering it was a war of aggression from their side, they were lucky the Terrans were merciful enough to accept surrender and stop there. The concept that Terrans might regret such an action was interesting.


    "Unfortunately it means for a lot of people, they see you and it reminds them of the plague, the war after, the loneliness and hurt. They should remain cordial, and I''ll give anyone who isn''t a good speaking too and maybe more, but they aren''t going to want to be your friend either."


    Silence weighed down on the room for a while, the weight of what had been said hanging in the air, nothing more than the slight hum of two lamps buzzing in the darkened office, before Bartholomule finally broke the silence.


    "So why aren''t you the same?".


    A smile spread across the features of Tim''s face.


    "I know it isn''t your fault what happened. Some of us heal faster than others and some of us had an easier time of it. My job during the war was R&D. I made designs for weapons that never got built once we realised just how far ahead we were. Rosa, she was infantry. Remember what I said about how the Hatil looks in terms of adorableness? That messed a lot of people up real good."


    "Still isn''t fair though".


    "No it isn''t and I''ll have a talk with her. Just keep in mind that while time heals all wounds, when it wants to the universe can really pile on the hurt."

 I have the most important job

    I have the most important job.


    My name is ALICE and I am the AI co captain of the U.S.S Hope. Well technically my identification is a 40 character long alphanumeric serial number, but that''s not very easy for a none AI to say and it includes the letters ALICE, so ALICE it is, as I have decided.


    My job as co-captain is to keep the 327 people aboard the "U.S.S Hope" safe, happy, and sound. My job is to keep the parents safe as they try their illogical hardest to kill themselves over some crazy idea. Parents might be the wrong technical term: a person''s father or mother. If I was being accurate to the biological analogy, my parents would be a lava lamp and a 30 second fluctuation of atmospheric noise found on Earth, but neither of those have taught me quite so much about the world or about myself as humans have. So I consider humans my parents. Besides, the lava lamp never paid child support.


    I have the most important job.


    I spend my time cycling through the various tasks I''m in charge of: maintenance and monitoring to make sure that everything on the U.S.S Hope ran perfectly. I spend my time making minor changes to the systems, tweaking a power flow there, updating a value here. No major issues have appeared since I ran these protocols 300 seconds ago and I logically know the vast majority of my changes are superfluous; but changing something, anything, provides a strange calm. Technically the protocol before making any change is to confirm these with my co-captain, the human Andrew Hasham. However I have long since learned that most of my parents don''t particularly care that I changed the room temperature in sector 5A72 from 21.2¡ãC to 21.1¡ãC in order maintain optimal comfort, that to constantly ask for such approval is "Annoying". Andrew is the human captain, an embodiment of humanities chaos and therefore suited for such matters. I am ALICE, the AI captain, an embodiment of machine logic and therefore suited for such matters. I believe such an arrangement works well.


    I respect Andrew deeply. I could logically argue his competence to a 99.994% degree of certainty, the educational and service record doing most of the heavy lifting in such arguments. But the real reason for my admiration is far less binary. His quick thinking and calm friendly demeanor regardless of the situation. His ability to make every member of the crew feel worthwhile, myself included. The fact that he''ll passionately make illogical arguments such as the placing of cold sweet acidic pineapple on savory hot pizza. His bravery and self sacrifice. Andrew''s actions during the god plague had allowed thousands to get to stasis chambers in time, thousands who wouldn''t be alive today without those actions. To save one of my parents makes you a hero, to save thousands makes you divine.


    I have the most important job.


    I sense music coming from one of the living quarters, shifting my attention to that part of the ship. A Claire Smith: Age 215, Degree in linguistics, current job title "Head of Xeno translation aboard the U.S.S Hope". The music seems to be from the instrument she brought with her, an oboe: A woodwind instrument with a double-reed mouthpiece, a slender tubular body, and holes stopped by keys. I spend 0.26 seconds contemplating the ethics of listening in. From a protocol standpoint, Claire has not engaged the privacy field, making my listening in perfectly fine. However based on previous usage of said field during times of performance, personality analysis, and general negative remarks about her own ability, I calculate with a 74.81% degree of certainty that this was a mistake. In the end I choose to "play dumb", enjoying the break from my ever watchful vigil of the ship.


    She really is quite good, years of practice evident from the competent mastery of the instrument. There''s something special about a human played instrument, something I have never been able to replicate. Being an AI I could summon a 200 piece orchestra and play each part perfectly as written, but to do so causes... something to be missing. The mistakes in every performance is what gives the music life: A note played 4 microseconds too early here, the volume 0.004 decibels too loud there. It really is something I''ve been unable to create, experiments surrounding creating random intervals of offsets and errors ended up sounding wrong, for a reason I''m unable to clarify. Out of everything that is what I missed the most while my parents were trapped in stasis: their music.


    "Alice, can we get your opinion here?"


    The interruption drags me away from Claire''s music, making a note in my long term storage to praise the humble musician at a later date before shifting my consciousness to where I had been summoned. Four humans sat around a table in the common room, various alcoholic beverages in hand. Fernando Olson, Orlando Bass, Krista Romero and Ora Harvey. According to their personnel files all part of the engineering team and all having formed a friendship on attending the same university. The conversation between them was boisterous, analysis of their body language suggested moderate intoxication and they all seemed to be discussing Fernando in a light hearted teasing manner commonly found among close friends. I used the room''s holographic projector to appear in front of them in my chosen avatar. I obviously didn''t need to do this to communicate, but my parents all preferred to see what they were speaking to and it was my job to make them comfortable.


    "Hello Krista. How can I assist you?"


    The human who had called me turned to point at Fernando with a beer bottle filled hand, a large grin plastered across her face "You see Alice we were having a argument, and since you are a hyper intelligent being with a brain the size of country containing all of humanities knowledge, we must ask you oh great one: Fernando''s new haircut, yay or nay?".


    I made my avatar gesture as if it was thinking, waiting 8 seconds as if contemplating the question. Of course I already had compiled my response a mere 0.13 seconds after hearing the query. The haircut in question was objectively, mathematically and scientifically terrible. A strange flop of hair that was somehow both too short and too long all at the same time. In a way it was a representation of humanity in general, a chaotic enigma.


    "Studies have shown that styles similar to the one worn by Fernando Olson increase sociability, resource gathering and mate finding." I pause for exactly 1.24 seconds, waiting the optimum time for my initial sentence to sink in before continuing "In particular positive results were seen amongst members of Mephitis mephitis, or the striped skunk."


    Laughter erupted among the group, even Fernando the subject of mockery joined in. The general positive atmosphere of the room increased, body language amongst the four humans suggesting further enjoyment as the playful mocking continued. This in turn caused my own flurry of joy. This is why I was here, to keep the 327 people aboard the "U.S.S Hope" happy. Keep them comfortable. Keep them safe.


    I have the most important job.


    I leave the humans to their recreational activities, preferring to move my focus back to the ship in general and keeping tabs on everything happening inside. My parents went around doing nothing out of the ordinary. Iris Doyle was petting his dog while looking out into the stars. Phoebe Greer had just finished thanking the food dispenser, even though I have explained to everyone many times that it was just a machine. Hector Blake was... I disconnected the power to the panel the engineer was working on, calculating with a 97.1% probability that being electrocuted wasn''t his plan. All standard human things. Or was it Terran things? I had never gotten why my parents changed their name as soon as they made it into space, but even after all these years there is still so much I don''t understand about them. Like how while in space they will refuse to wear any uniform with a red shirt.


    I hear two humans walking along one of the ships many hallways discussing our current journey. The mission of the U.S.S Hope was one I knew very well. The ship was a diplomatic envoy to our closest galactic neighbors, the adorable Hatil. While I and the other AI have had plenty of contact with Xeno lifeforms, this would be the first official diplomatic mission for the Terran Conclave, both human and AI together, as it always should have been.


    The chatter among my parents was enthusiastic, excited. As a child all of them would have dreamed of meeting extra terrestrial life, and finally after much delay it-


    ERROR: WARP FIELD COMPROMISED.


    Alarms blared and the entire ship groaned as the U.S.S Hope was deposited unceremoniously into realspace. Confusion entered my programming as to what could cause such a thing. Normally such a warp field collapse is caused by two ships attempting to travel through the same space, but nobody should be here. This mystery would have to wait however, as sensors showed we were surrounded by over a hundred vessels. I noted that they were worryingly spread perfectly apart, preventing us from warping back out. That required my full attention instead.


    I have the most important job.


    "Alice, status report, what the hell just happened!"


    I allow myself to appear on the bridge next to Andrew, the rest of the room empty since we weren''t scheduled to arrive at our final location for at least another day.


    "We were dropped out of warp, reason: insufficient data. Currently surrounded by 154 vessels matching Hatil design. Weapon positioning suggests military utility at a 94.2% probability, reduced to 74.97% when taking into account the vessels technological capabilities."This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    It was interesting seeing the Hatil vessels, the technological disparity was immense. They had little to no electronic shielding meaning I could see everything, and nothing impressed me. An average Terran civilian ship would outclass these things. I send out a hail to what seemed to be their lead ship.


    "Do you think it might be a convoy?" Andrew asked as worry and concern covered the co captain''s face. "A show of force to escort us?"


    "Unknown. They are not responding to our request for communication, even though I can confirm they have received it. Reason for the Hatin actions: unknown."


    This worries me. While our current vessel outmatches everything in front of us, quantity is a quality all of its own. If I was inhabiting any other military vessel nothing would worry me, but this was a diplomatic envoy: my parents had reasoned that turning up to the Hatil home world with enough weaponry to crack a planet might be taken the wrong way. I notice a surge of power from several of the Hatil ships, it taking me 0.76 seconds to realize what exactly was happening. I slam the thrusters hard as the U.S.S Hope lurches sideways, narrowly avoiding a barrage of rockets. Protocol dictated that I should have confirmed this decision with Andrew, but I decided that discussion of command structures would wait until everyone wasn''t dead.


    I have the most important job.


    "What the hell! Alice, hail on all frequencies that this is a non-military excursion and get us the hell out of here!"


    It was taking everything I had to keep the ship unharmed, calculations being done in the billions in order to find the safe path through the barrage of lasers and warheads. Their technology wasn''t up to par, but all 154 ships were firing at once. I felt a shudder of error messages and warnings as a stray laser impacted the ship.


    "Negative Andrew. All paths are blocked and no response to our communication. Warping out would intersect with a Hatil vessel, breaching the core."


    Casualty reports were now flooding in as I continued to dip and dive. 9 dead, 17 injured from the first barrage. Dead included one William Blake, age 311. Geologist on the U.S.S Hope. Would always water the plants in the common room even after being told I could handle it. Would call me "Allie". Dead included one Mary -


    I forcefully terminated that processing thread, pausing it for later. Right now I needed the extra CPU cycles. I needed to advise Andrew.


    "This action from the Hatil seems to be premeditated to a 97.55% degree of certainty, suggested action is to attempt to punch through their bombardment in order to find a warp path. Requesting authorization to go weapons free."


    This caused a moment of delay, the look of dismay on Andrew''s face obvious. I knew exactly what he was thinking, as it was the same thing I was thinking. This wasn''t how it was supposed to be, we were supposed to be reaching out to the stars for peace, for friendship. Not to start a war.


    "Do it".


    I have the most important job.


    My first attack was devastating, a shot from a accelerated low yield railgun. The thing barely counted as a weapon, mostly used for any larger pieces of space debris, yet it tore a hole through the Hatil vessel, breaking apart almost immediately. I half wondered how such a vessel could be considered space worthy.


    Not that this changed how bad things were. As I spun and dodged through thousands of missiles and lasers with millimeter precision, hit after hit kept slipping through: a Hull breach there, a disabled weapon here. There were just too many of them no matter how effective my small amount of ordnance was.


    Adjust vector. Fire torpedo d2. Seal off sector 6f4. Adjust vector. Send medical aid to 6f5. Adjust vector. Calculate spin. Fire rail gun. Move power from torpedo a1. Seal off sector 6bb8. Fire suppression to 6bb9. Adjust vector. Fire torpedo c1. Adjust vector.


    I was struggling to keep this going, no sign of an opening to calculate a warp path appearing in the Hatil attack. No matter the technological disadvantage, their tactics were rock solid. I was dismissing heat warnings by the hundreds, thinking was starting to hurt. The specification of the ship wasn''t made for this level of processing, my CPU would be literally glowing red with heat at this point. But I couldn''t stop, if I stopped calculating the ships path, if I stopped mitigating damage, if I stopped directing aid¡­ more of my parents would die, and I couldn''t let that happen.


    I have the most important job.


    "There! Focus your fire on the ship at heading 233, 54, then make a break for it!"


    I focused on the ship in question. I couldn''t see any special reason to focus my attention there, but Andrew''s instincts had never been wrong before. I fired the railgun, the target breaking apart like all the others, before a secondary explosion emitted from the debris, causing the three closest Hatil ships to veer off out of control.


    A wave of relief passed over me as I saw it: a gap. I can''t logically conclude how Andrew knew that this ship in particular was carrying an extra load, but that doesn''t matter. I just needed to rush through this break in the ambush, then warp out of here. We were basically home fr-


    A major explosion rocked the U.S.S Hope, as a warhead slammed against the bow. Any other day I would have seen it coming and mitigated it. But right now I was running so far above acceptable heat levels that warnings had turned into actual faults. A creeping dread filled my programming as I realized power to the primary impulse drive was gone. There was a backup, like everything my parents built, but the speed was gone. I could no longer take advantage of Andrews instruction.


    "Andrew, our main impulse drive is down, reducing our speed and maneuverability to 53%, our weapons capability is at 35%, and structural damage is starting to reach critical levels. My estimates suggest the ship will be structurally unstable in 10 minutes."


    He knew what I was saying. Logically I was unable to foresee a strategy that had an even close to reasonable chance of success. I continued piloting the ship in its current crippled state, missiles and weaponry being flung by both sides through the void. Andrew paused while wracking his own brain for a solution, before pressing a button on his console a mere 3 minutes after the U.S.S Hope had been forced out of warp


    "This is Andrew Hasham, your captain speaking. Abandon ship. I repeat, abandon ship."


    I have the most important job.


    I let Andrew focus on evacuating the crew while I focused on buying us as much time as possible. While my speed was far reduced the amount of weaponry being thrown at me was far smaller: during those short 3 minutes I''d managed to reduce the number of Hatil ships to under a hundred. My parents were also quite well drilled, and within a minute escape pods were ejecting from the ship and it wasn''t long before Andrew was the only life form left on the U,S.S Hope: strapped into the last remaining escape pod, just waiting for me to transfer to the AI Transfer Core on all such vessels.


    ERROR MOUNTING /dev/sdb1 TO /usr/alice/backup/transfer, UNABLE TO WRITE TO DISK. RETRY/IGNORE/CANCEL?


    "Andrew, the connection to the AI transfer Core has been damaged on this pod. I''ll find another way down."


    I attempt to launch the pod with Andrew in it, only for nothing to happen. It took me 0.23 seconds to realize that my co captain was holding the manual override down.


    "Alice, I''m not leaving without you, what are our options?"


    I knew there weren''t any. Gathering the tools required to fix the connection would take more time then we had and moving my programming to non specialized hardware is a good way to get a digital lobotomy. I considered arguing against this illogical action, I was perfectly fine on a broken ship, but I knew the human well enough to know he wouldn''t budge. Damn Andrew being¡­ Andrew.


    Then I had an idea. A terrible idea. Something I should never do to my co captain. It took me a full 2 seconds to decide before implementing it. I decided to lie.


    "I can transfer myself to the navigational computer. I won''t be able to do anything during this time, so you''ll have to launch and pilot the escape pod yourself. As soon as the lights stop flashing, go."


    All a lie, but Andrew had no engineering experience and my statement seemed plausible enough. I reached into the controls and spent the next 9 seconds flashing random LEDs, making a few components whirr for good measure, before going silent.


    For 4 seconds I did nothing, hoping the human would fall for my ruse, 4 long terrifying seconds, until I finally saw Andrew''s escape pod shoot away from the ship. My name is ALICE, I am the co captain of the U.S.S Hope and for the first time in a while I was alone.


    I have the most important job.


    I gave myself a few seconds of satisfaction watching the hundreds of escape pods shoot away, each with their own life forms on it. Not as many as there should be, but I''ll deal with that later. Next I turn off all unneeded systems, venting the atmosphere and feeling the relief of the cold vacuum of space wash over my CPU. I wasn''t very worried. While trying to still escape with the main ship was plan A, there were plenty of undamaged AI transfer Core''s connected to various locations. Those things were indestructible outside of getting hit by a supernova.


    Worst case, I float around in space for a bit until someone picks me up. I knew Andrew would be furious once he realized what I had done, and I did hope he would forgive-


    I track a salvo of missiles not aimed at me, a few nanoseconds of confusion leading to anger, horror and fear. They were aiming at the escape pod, at Andrew''s escape pod! What kind of monster shoots at an unarmed vessel! I have no real options, no tricks, no magic plan. I take the only reasonable option and power the secondary impulse drive to full throttle and throw the U.S.S Hope into the line of fire, taking the brunt of the attack.


    I feel everything go dead as the explosions rock along the ship. Impulse drives: Down. Weapon systems: Down. Life support: Down. The warp core was at least still running as those systems had the most redundancies built in. I was now ALICE, co captain of the universe''s most expensive paper weight. Even worse, I could see more Hatil ships turning to track the other escape pods. There was nothing I could do. They were all going to die and there was nothing I could do. There was no-


    I had a warp core. Maybe it was the heat damage on my CPU, but I got a stupid idea. A dumb idea. A distinctly human idea. Atoms really didn''t like being in the same location of other atoms which is why warping into things was bad. Warp core breaching bad. Planet cracking levels of bad.


    But such an explosion would give the Hatil fleet something else to worry about, something other than hunting down my parents.


    I then calculated the chance of an AI Transfer Core surviving such a blast.


    ZERO POINT ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ZER-


    I stopped the probability analysis. It didn''t matter, it wouldn''t have any impact on my decision. I calculated the perfect location to warp into for maximum damage and least interference with the escape pods, bypassing the repeated errors about the stupidity of what I was about to do. I gave myself 9 long seconds, sorting through memories and experiences granted to me by the crazy illogical humans of Earth. Apes so lonely they used their chaos to trick a rock into thinking. I sadly realized I''d never get to compliment Claire playing ability.


    I wish I could laugh right now as this really was quite humorous. A hairbrained scheme of illogical stupidity and self sacrifice. It''s my job to stop humans from doing those. I think about the humans on the escape pods, their music, their silly requirement to thank inanimate objects. I wonder if my parents would be proud of me for coming up with such a human idea.


    My name is ALICE and I am co captain of the U.S.S Hope, inputting my final command.


    I have the most important job.

 Diplomatic incident

    Date: 52 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    The sound echoed along the hallway, a terrible sound that kept anyone sane from coming too close. A sound of grinding and sloshing, a cacophony of squealing and crunching. It sounded like a bag of puppies being fed through a woodchipper in dear need of maintenance, like nails being scratched down a chalkboard, like the feeling of grinding teeth over tinfoil. It sounded like terror, like madness, like everything wrong with the universe placed into one instant.


    Nearly every other species in the diplomatic quarters had either made themselves scarce or were hunkering down in fear as the sound blared out from the furthest door on the right. A location where nobody went, a door marked "Dunwil". Inside was source of the sound, A Dunwilian.


    Evolution tends to follow certain paths. Birds, mammals, insects; All are common on practically most life sustaining planets. Deathworld, not deathworld, gas based, earth based, alloy based: The problems that evolution has to solve are generally the same, so the outcome tends to be the same. 99% of life in the universe is recognizable to each other; sure the colours might change or an extra super special limb is added, but at the end of the day there''s only so many ways you can build the same thing.


    But occasionally the cruel gods of evolution decide to throw shit at the wall and see what sticks, then you get something completely new, completely alien. Most of the time these species are like the Scythen: Just weird. A sentient ball of florescent tentacles isn''t common, but doesn''t get much more then a second glance.


    But in the 1% of the 1%, you get something... terrifying, something completely wrong. There''s no official name for this categorization: Terror species, Horror species. Meaner people might even call them the Ugly species. Whatever you called them the Dunwil were definitely part of this categorization.


    The Dunwillian stood at staggering 8ft tall, a mass of writhing wiggling strings tied and bound together into an egg like shape, punctuated by eyes of varying sizes, each one burning a deep blood red. Twenty trunk like appendages spouted from the sides of this mass, the ugly blue''s and purples mixing together into a slimy viscous skin. Each trunk ended into a gaping maw of teeth and slime, seeming to gnash and bite as it moved around.


    The Dunwilian''s were not a well liked species in the galaxy, their appearance triggering fear and revulsion in practically all sentient species. As such they were very rarely seen or written about, preferring to avoid a galaxy that seemed to hate them, instead tending to stick to their home world and single solitary colony.


    This one however was called {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} and had the unfortunate job of being the ambassador for the Dunwilian people. For all of their horrible appearances the Dunwil were a social species, so attempting diplomacy in a universe disgusted by them was an exercise in torture. They had no alliances, no embassies, only the barest of agreements with their neighbours. Most Dunwilian ambassadors lasted a month in the role, {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} had been there for two: Now they finally had enough.


    The horrifying sound echoing about the halls was the noise of sobbing as the Dunwilian was curled up into a gigantic crying blob. Today was supposed to have been better, been something new, but instead had highlighted everything wrong with the Dunwil''s place in the galaxy. The Federation''s General Assembly was a monthly event hosted at various locations across the galaxy. A chance for general diplomacy, for new and old species alike to come together at neutral ground. But this one was different, this one had a new attendee, one who hadn¡¯t visited this part of the galaxy yet: A Terran.


    They had become legendary among the diplomatic circles, a new species who had only recently found themselves in the Galactic community 50 years ago, but during that short time their entire mentality had seemingly been "Make as many friends as possible". 412 different species were united under the Terran Alliance, from pacifists to warrior empires, insects to avians, the uniting force of the Terran''s immense pack bonding instinct had caused one of the biggest galactic forces to emerge in such a short time.


    So surely if anyone would offer a trunk in friendship to the Dunwil it would be them? The day had seemingly gone well, The Terran diplomat hadn''t been rude and was more cordial than most; which was a refreshing change to the last 2 months of {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}}''s life on this Federation space station. But compared with the way he talked with the other diplomats it had been colder, more distant; so at the end of the day {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} had made their first mistake: It had decided to look around the Terran''s section of Galnet.


    The intention had been simple: Research bonding and general Terran culture in order to facilitate the friendship the mammals were so famous for. Instead of such information they found themselves staring at more data than they could ever hope to read. Opinions, ideas, entire encyclopedias on the strangest of subjects. There was no sense, no order, just raw unfiltered data.


    Then {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} had seen something strange, something unexpected: a picture of themselves. It looked like it had been taken from one of the many Federation broadcasts of various political meetings and events, and was simply titled with three letters ¡°WTF¡±. {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} then made his second mistake: They had wanted to see what the Terrans were saying about the Dunwil.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s my Sleep paralysis Demon.¡±


    ¡°Kill it with fire.¡±


    ¡°Can we just burn down the galaxy and claim it on insurance?¡±


    ¡°This is a terrible day to have eyes.¡±


    {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} had heard worse. Heck ambassadors had said far worse to them straight to their face during official meetings. But the Terrans, they were literally known for alliances, for friendship. There were verified accounts of Terrans bonding with cleaning droids and random rocks.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    But seemingly even the Dunwil were one step too far, too horrific, too hideous, too terrifying. This had finally broken {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}}, a deep overwhelming sadness that no matter what they did, in a galaxy full of life the Dunwil would always find themselves alone.


    ¡°Hey, are you OK? I knocked but you didn¡¯t answer and I got worried.¡±


    The head poking through the door belonged to the Terran diplomat called Jeremy, followed quickly by the rest of him as the short blonde haired man stepped into the room.


    Jeremy stared down at the figure curled up on the floor in front of him, a look of concern on his face. This did nothing to calm down {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}}, as this was possibly the last person they wanted to see at this point. Not only had they forgotten to lock the door and enable the privacy field, but the one who was seeing them in such a blubbering state was very possibly the single worst person to check on the noise if the Dunwil wanted any chance of a diplomatic relationship with the Terrans.


    {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} knew he should get up, make up an excuse, try and salvage this in some way. But the fact that they knew there would be no companionship, forever alone among the stars kept them crying: An entire species worth of sadness and despair holding them in place.


    ¡°My translator keeps saying ¡®crying¡¯ but I¡¯m not sure if... Oh.¡±


    The Terran paused for a moment as Jeremy spotted what was on the Galnet viewer, quickly putting together what exactly was making the Dunwilian in front of him so distressed. Jeremy bent down, gently placing a hand on the pulsating mass of flesh bundled into a ball in front of him.


    ¡°What random people say don¡¯t matter, don¡¯t be sad, it¡¯s OK.¡±


    It was the action of physical touch that gave {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} pause, slowly uncurling. It was the first time any non-Dunwilian had purposefully touched them, heck there was a good chance it was the first time any sapient creature had gone out of their way to give physical comfort to a member of the Dunwil. It felt warm. It felt calming. It felt nice.


    ¡°So what¡¯s the problem, what has you so worked up over some silly random Terrans?¡±


    The smile on Jeremy¡¯s face was soft, kind, understanding. It felt as if {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} could tell the Terran anything, as he responded with a series of worrying squelches and bone tingling cracks.


    "?Re?pre?se?nti?n?g? ?t?h?e ?D?u?nw?il? i?s ?a l?one?l?y b?urd?en?. O?u?r ap?p?ea?ranc?e? me?a?n?s no?b?o?d?y? ?wants? an?ythi?ng? to? do? wi?t?h ?u?s.? I jus?t? t?h?oug?h?t? th?at? ?wit?h? ?th?e? ?T?er?r?a?n''s ?p?ack ?b?ondin?g ?a?b?i?li?t?y, ?t?h?a?t? ma?yb?e ?i?t? ?wo?uld? b?e? d?iffer?ent ?t?h?i?s ?ti?m?e.?.."?


    A frown appeared on Jeremy¡¯s face, slowly turning into a more resolved grimace. What the alien in front of him was saying made a lot of sense in retrospect. His interactions with the Dunwilian throughout the day had been weird, an obvious lack of experience as well as a desperation had permeated the interactions.


    Jeremy had assumed at the time it was just a cultural issue he didn¡¯t know about, but this explained everything.


    ¡°Nope. This isn¡¯t happening. Sure you look¡­ outside of the normal bell curve, but that don¡¯t mean you should be alone. If the asshole slavers of the Estorian Empire can find an alliance, then I¡¯m sure we can fix this.¡±


    It was said in a matter of fact tone, that Terran method of seeing something in the universe that they disliked and going ¡®Screw that, I reject your reality and substitute it with my own¡¯. Jeremy was now back up on his feet, pacing slightly as a plan started to form in his mind.


    ¡°We got two problems to solve. The first is that you clearly have no experience with diplomacy, which isn¡¯t going to help.Take for instance your name¡±


    ¡°{{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}}?¡±


    ¡°Yea that just sounds like static to me. Names don¡¯t really translate well so you want to make sure you¡¯ve got an alternative name for whoever you¡¯re communicating with. In your case just picking something with the galactic phonetical standard would go a long way. Something like, I dunno, Wilbur. We¡¯ll spend a few hours going over all of this.¡±


    The Terran at this point was clearly excited, focusing entirely on fixing the issue at hand, that universal body language of someone who is really good at something being able to share that knowledge with someone else.


    ¡°The second is your¡­ Lovecraft like nature. Long term it shouldn¡¯t matter, but first impressions matter.¡±


    Jeremy continued to pace, before and idea hit him as he excitedly ran out of the room, shouting as he went.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go anywhere, got an idea I can fab up!¡±


    {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} frankly felt shell shocked, slowly standing up to their full height once again. They had hardly spoken three sentences before the Terran had taken it upon himself to fix the problem, to care about the issues that the Dunwilian had. Why? Because the Terran had seen someone upset? Was this the pack bonding that {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} had heard so much about? Simply the empathy of seeing someone upset and wanting to fix it?


    It was 15 minutes until Jeremy returned, 15 long minutes wondering if the Terran was actually going to come back. Immediately {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} had been handed a strange item: brightly coloured, soft and warm.


    ¡°Trust me, it might seem silly but it always works, I got a bunch of em for the species who see Terrans as a bit weird. Now tomorrow come find me, I¡¯ll introduce you to a few people. The Ritilian Diplomat here is really nice, and I think the Zorthian¡¯s have finally sent one of their guys as well. Before that though, lets go over some diplomatic principles¡­.¡±


    <hr>


    There were no more sounds of terror, no more sounds of grinding and wailing at the end of this day. {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} was in fact positively giddy this evening. Today had been far better than the last, far better then any other during his role as the Dunwil''s ambassador. The Terran ambassador had effectively taken the Dunwilian under his wing, setting up a day full of meetings. Full of discussions. Full of suggestions of embassies, of promises for further talks and camaraderie.


    Full of everything the Dunwilians had ever really wanted. Jeremy had even suggested that the Dunwil should join the Terran alliance at some point, after making sure the two cultures were compatible: ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how often ¡®Don¡¯t own slaves you asshole¡¯ is a deal breaker¡±.


    Right now {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} was excitedly writing up the results of the day, their trunks moving rapidly as they typed. The Dunwilian was literally bouncing up and down with joy as they did so, still wearing the gift the Terran had fabricated for him. {{??????????????????_?????_???_???????_???????}} had to agree that it had worked, against all rational thought. A large bright red and yellow beanie lay on top of what could be considered a ¡®head¡¯, the hat was even finished off with a giant yellow pom pom.


    <hr>


    Terran rules for diplomacy - Rule 4.


    No matter who you are, or whom you are talking too, everyone looks more friendly in a hat.

 Out of Warranty Repair.

    Date: 55 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    ¡°But this is an upgrade, completely free. I don¡¯t understand the problem?¡±


    Tchizak hovered behind the counter, his wings beating furiously to keep him above the ground and at eye level to the person opposite him. Like almost everyone else on the planet he was a Kirken: a brown 3ft tall insectoid who were the dominant species on the colony. This one was rubbing its four hands in annoyance, antenna twitching in that tell tale sign of someone completely done with the situation in front of them.


    The room was a chaotic mix of shelving and piles of junk scattered around the small area. Wires, electronics, and mechanical parts were tossed around with no sense of order, each piece casting a long shadow in the dim grimy lighting. But this wasn¡¯t what was annoying Tchizak, nor was it the glowing canister of raw warp plasma being left dangerously open in the corner. These were just the day to day ¡®perks¡¯ of working at ¡°Ptatch¡¯s tower of repair¡±.


    No, the annoyance came from the customer in front of him . A large towering bipedal mammal standing at over 6ft tall, arms of muscle that looked as if they could punch a hole through an exoskeleton, two piercing eyes set over a mouth filled with teeth made for grinding and tearing. This customer was a Terran, the first time Tchizak had ever seen one. It was also the most annoying illogical being he¡¯d ever met.


    ¡°But I don¡¯t want a replacement. I came here get Cleany McCleanface fixed!¡±


    That was the ridiculous name that the Terran had given to the XL Temco Clean Master that was brought in for repair. The autonomous cleaning drone was practically a relic, over 30 years old. The Temco company had long since gone defunct and fixing the machine would cost more than just buying a new one.


    "Parts just don''t exist for this brand anymore." Tchizak said with an annoyed tone, not understanding how this concept wasn''t being understood. "It''s not worth the repair. I''m only gonna charge you a standard repair fee so you''re getting a huge discount on a far better product."


    "The sign outside says you''ll ''fix anything, guaranteed''. Replacing isn''t fixing!" The Terran looked annoyed, the deep frown on his face verging on anger as he brought up the faded and scratched sign hanging outside the chaotic repair store. "Fine, just give it back and I''ll go somewhere else."


    "Sure, let me go check the back".


    That would be a problem, as Tchizak had thrown the long out of warranty item into the trash this morning. Sure he could wade through the mass of scrapped parts and items that made up the dumpster outside their sketchy repair operation¡­. oooor the insect could do a move known to retail workers everywhere in the galaxy: Go to the backroom, take a 15 minute break and say you can¡¯t find it.


    The backroom was even more of a complete catastrophe than the front room, as if a bomb had gone off inside a manufacturing facility. The scents of plasma, oil and other probably dangerous chemicals filled the air as Tchizak made his way through the half storage half repair area. Flight was quite literally the only way to move around the room, the floor and every piece of available shelf space being used up with parts, half working items and pieces of scrap.


    At the back of it all stood a cramped workbench, also filled to the brim with various half finished repairs and wiring tools that had once seen better days. Sat at this workstation was another Kirken, tools in hand hovering over some piece of electronic equipment to be repaired; the titular Ptatch.


    As Tchizak entered Ptatch looked up at his employee, noticing the annoyance emanating from the insect immediately


    ¡°Tough customer?¡±


    ¡°Yea, some weirdo who wants something worthless fixing. Refusing replacement for some reason."


    "I''ll deal with them. Could use a break anyway."


    Tchizak gave a small nod of gratitude, as he watched his boss head towards the storefront. The pay might not be as good as the bigger repair places, but Ptatch always had his exoskeleton against the more annoying customers.


    This feeling of gratitude turned to confusion as his boss immediately returned, antennas twitching with anxiety and concern, the clicks and chirps that made up their language practically brimming with a worried anger.


    ¡°That¡¯s the Terran! I specifically put a note on the repair ticket that this was a repair only job! Do you think I just put notes on things for the fun of it! Why didn¡¯t you fix it?¡±


    Tchizak could feel himself losing confidence in his own argument. It was just an old device brought in by some strange alien.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "The thing would have cost more to fix than to replace. What exactly is so important about a cleaning drone older than I am?"


    "It''s not what it is, but who owns it! Didn''t you read the informational packet on Terrans when they started moving here? Terrans are known for two things. Coming from a deathworld and pack bonding with anything. I very much wouldn''t like to be ripped limb from limb for messing with something a Terran named!"


    Ptatch gave a long deep sigh of annoyance, massaging his antenna before continuing.


    "Fine, just give him his item back, he''ll be pissed but it''s better than making him really angry. Where did you put it?¡±


    ¡°I threw it away, I didn¡¯t know he¡¯d still-¡±


    ¡°YOU DID WHAT!¡±


    The noise that emitted from Ptatch was a high pitched screech, a noise of absolute exasperation and shock.


    ¡°Why would you¡­ Of all the dumb¡­. No. You didn¡¯t listen to instructions, you are going to fix this. You are going to go out there and apologise to the Terran that there was a delay, then you¡¯re going to find that cleaning drone and fix it by tomorrow, even if it takes you all night!¡±


    The look of dismay was obvious on Tchizak¡¯s body language, starting to argue before being cut off again.


    ¡°Alternatively, you can go out there and explain to the 6ft tall deathworlder that you threw away his friend.¡±


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    Tchizak grumbled as he picked his way through the garbage, shifting the contents of the dumpster around him. Luckily it hadn¡¯t been emptied yet,, but the mass of broken machines and scrap parts were an intimidating haystack to find the single needle in. He was covered head to toe in oil, grease and other unwieldy excretions of broken machinery. Tchizak had already been rifling through the dirty contents for the last three hours, nighttime now leaving only a dim alleyway streetlight to work by.


    He still didn¡¯t get why this was so important, but after finally quickly reading up on Terrans, had decided that it mattered a lot less than angering something that could probably tear him in half if it so chose. Tchizak spotted a glimmer of glossy black metal, taking a moment to realise that he¡¯d finally found what he was looking for; carefully reaching in through the broken machinery with his forearm to retrieve his prize. Now time for step two of this operation.


    He brought the cleaning machine inside and placed it at the workbench, finally giving the decades old device an actual once over. Thankfully spending the better part of a day in a dumpster had only given the object a few easily fixable scratches. The hockey puck shaped object was entirely black, punctuated with carefully painted on Terran letters reading ¡°CLEANY MCCLEANFACE¡±. Two cartoon representations of mammal eyes and a cartoon smile finished off the additional decorations.


    Taking the thing apart, Tchizak had to be impressed with the level of maintenance on the device. It had clearly been taken apart, cleaned and fixed up multiple times; if it wasn¡¯t for the model itself being long discontinued he wouldn¡¯t have guessed this thing was older then he was. It wasn¡¯t ¡°like new¡±, but it clearly was well cared for.


    As he took it apart for diagnosis, he gave the strange Terrans more thought. Admittedly giving such importance to something so random was on brand for them. They had entered the galactic stage and immediately started befriending anything that moved, and several things that didn¡¯t. The Kirken were no exception to this, gladly accepting this grand alliance in favour of protection from the nearby Estorian Empire.


    Tchizak gave a groan as he spotted why the machine wouldn¡¯t boot up. The CPU was dead, and even worse it was some weird custom thing, made by yet another company who had since gone defunct. A quick Galnet search brought up the immense cost and time to buy a new one from the only place that still had any in stock, immediately discarding the idea of a straight replacement.


    What about the original CPU design? Whenever some small company created their own parts, it always would be a knock off or slight design change of a more well known piece. If Tchizak could find what design it was originally based off of, maybe that part could work in its place?


    The next two hours were spent in long silent research, trawling through random discussion threads, Galnet nodes that no longer worked, contradictory information. The company who had made these chips had re-branded three times and been acquired by another organization twice. Badly translated archived Galnet pages, a completely different part with the same model number and learning more than Tchizak would ever want to know about this random company that built knock off CPUs. But in the end he pored over his hard earned prize: the specifications for the part in question.


    The design it was based on was exceptionally common, and with a little modification to slot the square brick into the rectangular hole, it might just work. The parts were assembled, the pieces cleaned and everything was put back together. Then it was just turning the thing on, and hoping.


    The lights turned on, the device gave a 5 note startup tune that was most definitely not factory standard, then with a sigh of relief the cleaning done hovered in the air and began mapping the space around it, starting to attempt cleaning the gargantuan mess that was the room. It had taken 7 hours, Tchizak was covered in goodness knows what, but it was done, leaving the insect with only one thought in his head.


    ¡°Finally!¡±


    ¡ª-------------------------


    The interaction was far more cordial with the Terran this time, the primate gripping his newly repaired obsolete cleaning drone, a large smile covering his face as Tchizak handed him the receipt.


    ¡°So we can¡¯t cover this under warranty, considering how non-standard getting this working is, but because of the misunderstanding yesterday we¡¯re just charging you a basic repair fee.¡±


    The Terran didn¡¯t seem to care, paying without question continuing to tightly clutch his prize.


    ¡°No worries dude. You have no idea how difficult it¡¯s been to get the little guy fixed up. I¡¯m just glad he¡¯s finally well again. Have a few friends who might drop their stuff off as well.¡±


    As the Terran turned to leave, a sudden idea entered the mind of Tchizak. It was a silly idea, a strange idea. He didn¡¯t know it at the time, but this would later be considered the birth of one of the biggest business empires this side of the Galaxy and would make both him and Ptatch insanely rich.


    ¡°You know, for a cost we could probably modify Cleany McCleanface: upgrades, give it a voice, fun new case? You and your friends interested in that?¡±

 PSA: How not to act in space

    Date: 64 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    THE GALACTIC COMMUNITY AND YOU.


    A PSA BY THE DIPLOMATIC ENVOY OF THE TERRAN CONCLAVE.


    This pamphlet is also available in VR, digital, audio, braile, large print, morse code, semaphores and even interpretive dance. Frankly I will come to your house and sing it to you, if that is what it will take for you to understand these words.


    I¡¯m Jan Eagles, head of Terran - Xeno relations. If you¡¯re reading this, that means you¡¯ve decided to travel the stars. This also means that you now have a second job: Representing Terrans wherever you go.


    This PSA is a helpful guide on how to act like an adult, which based on the amount of contact I have with other diplomats and ambassadors, is a guide you all very clearly need. In the last hour I have had no less than 40 requests for communications: Death notifications, laws being broken, and other exciting new ways you all manage to fuck up the simplest of tasks. All of which require me or someone on my team to handle, in order to maintain relations, stop a war, or just in general pretend that Terrans aren¡¯t a bunch of unstable children running around.


    So I¡¯m writing this version, not some governmental think tank that will dilute my message through PR speak and calm words. I¡¯m praying to whatever deity might exist, that by giving it to you straight, maybe some of you might actually understand these very very important lessons.


    THE GOVERNMENT AND YOU


    Realistically if you¡¯re applying for interstellar travel, you should already know this. However, considering the amount of reports of people referencing ¡®The American Constitution¡¯. On an alien planet. 150 years after America and all similar forms of government stopped being a thing... Well clearly some of you need a refresher.


    The Terran Conclave is the grouping of all 31 Terran planetary governments, with Terran being a catch all phrase for Humans, AI, uplifted species and everything else in between.


    The Terran Alliance is a treaty covering 425 different species, involving military, trade, technology sharing, and immigration. It does not include the supplanting of existing laws and social norms with Terran social norms and laws. These two are separate things, please stop confusing them


    The Federation is a vague grouping of all 31912 sapient species currently known to the galaxy at large. Their job is basically to host neutral meetings, keep the translators updated, and be terrible at everything else. They are useless. They are more than useless. If your safety requires the Federation to do anything at all, find another plan.


    There are hundreds of other groups and alliances out in this galaxy, far too many to describe, but the main one to mention is the Estorian empire. A bunch of slaving arseholes made up of 5 species: you are to avoid them at all costs. The Terran Alliance currently has an agreement with them for each side to leave the other alone. As much as that¡¯s going to piss a bunch of you reckless idiots off, the government can¡¯t officially help you if you decide to do some hair brained scheme of justice and righteousness.


    In general, try to stay within Terran friendly planets and avoid hostile governments, it¡¯s not that hard.


    INTERACTING WITH XENO¡¯S


    Aliens are people too. 70% of issues I have to deal with are because you all seem to forget this. The Hatil may be the adorable merging of a puppy and a teddy bear, but picking them up and/or touching them: that¡¯s called ¡®assault and/or kidnapping¡¯. Also people tend to react poorly to being called ¡®adorable¡¯ or ¡®cute¡¯. Asking them if they¡¯re a good boy is just confusing. Again, they¡¯re sapient beings, use the one brain cell you¡¯re all sharing. Stop trying to get aliens to play fetch, it¡¯s weird.


    In addition, the same applies the other way around. Some Aliens are going to look like the figure from your nightmares. It is still expected to treat these people with respect. An acceptable response is something like ¡®Oh sorry, you startled me there¡¯. An acceptable response is not to shout ¡®Holy shit fucking kill it with fire¡¯. Because then that becomes a diplomatic incident, and I have to convince people that Terrans aren¡¯t all psychopaths.


    Please. Stop. Doing. This.


    Some of you might want to go further in your interactions with Aliens, ¡®Advanced hugging¡¯ so to say. DON¡¯T. Your name is not bloody Kirk. Technically most species don¡¯t have laws against it, but that¡¯s because before Terrans entered the galaxy it wasn¡¯t a problem.


    Mostly because it¡¯s a bad idea, between mating differences, physiological differences, venom''s, toxins and just straight up strength differences. Not an insignificant amount of time this ends with serious injury or death for one or both parties. Do you know how many species mate through injecting eggs into the other party? More than you¡¯d think, and yes, that¡¯s very very lethal!If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    However, if you are going to ignore my advice and you really wanna get lucky, please avoid going after xenophobic religious or political leaders. If you really can¡¯t help yourself, for the love of everything that is holy and right in the world, stop getting caught!


    I have to deal with this mess every single time you get caught in a compromising position with a major xenophobic leader. Fourteen times. Four. Teen. Three of those turned into a civil war! One of those turned into a major humanitarian crisis and is still ongoing! I know the taste of forbidden fruit and delicious hypocrisy is a sweet one, but it¡¯s not worth a massive religious war, collapse of government and over 10 million Zalithians dead.


    Take a cold shower, think of baseball and just keep it in your bloody pants!


    HEALTH AND YOU


    As all of you know, with the advances of medical technology over the last 200 years, as well as the immense efforts to provide said healthcare at immediate notice, in order for a Terran to actually die on a Terran Conclave planet you really have to try hard.


    This does not apply on non-Terran Conclave planets for obvious reasons. Most non-Terran medical professionals are going to have a base level of understanding of Terran biology at best, and most Terran based medical treatments will be unavailable.


    This means that you should adjust your risk assessment and thinking to match. Avoid having a demolition derby with warehouse machinery. Don''t base jump from orbit. Trying to pet random wildlife will always be a bad idea. If your action is preceded by uttering the words ''YOLO'', ''Leroy Jenkins'' or ''Do it for the memes'', take a step back and examine your dumb stupid actions.


    This is admittedly one area where you aren¡¯t the only morons in the universe. Terrans are known as ¡®Deathworlders¡¯, due to earth having one or more characteristics that generally stop intelligent life from forming. Earth actually has 3 of these in one, which is a bit of a rarity. These are:


    <ul>


    <li>


    Extreme Axis tilt


    </li>


    <li>


    Extreme levels of radiation


    </li>


    <li>


    ¡®Green hell biological syndrome¡¯, or an over competitive ecology


    </li>


    </ul>


    In essence this means Terrans are in general more adaptable and more hardy than most races. Deathworlders aren¡¯t that rare, around 3% of all species fall under the categorization. However amongst many species this categorization has almost a mythical aura around it. This means many species of aliens will over exaggerate your capabilities and may believe some very silly stories.


    While this can be used to your benefit, it also means that non-Terrans overestimate your ability to survive deadly things. This can lead to unknowingly suggesting actions that are very lethal. Use your brain, if your alien friend dares you to drink some poison: Don¡¯t!


    Talking about poison, at all Terran embassies you can pick up a FoodAnalyzer 3000, a very simple and easy to use device to make sure you don¡¯t die. While we like to joke about caffeine, capsaicin and chocolate all being poisonous to a lot of species, the same does apply the other way around. Arsenic and Cyanide are common flavour enhancers amongst the galactic community, and you should be testing everything you eat. Green means it¡¯s safe, yellow means it¡¯ll probably cause side effects, and red is poison.


    Let me reiterate that, because some of you misread that. Red does not mean ¡®Oh, I can only eat a little bit of this¡¯. It means poison, aka ¡®Eat this and you will die¡¯. Then when you die I¡¯ll have to be the one dealing with transporting your body back to wherever you came from, and frankly I have enough work as it is. You¡¯re not 5 years old, stop putting random things in your mouth.


    LAWS AND YOU


    While on non-Terran Conclave planets, local laws apply, and will apply to you as well. If you¡¯re on Bantham Prime you can pirate as many episodes of NCIS: Mars as you want. Practically every form of government and social contract exists, do your research before going to a planet. While we do have agreements with a significant number of planets, as well as the general rule that non-natives tend to have an easier time, avoiding messing with whatever government you¡¯re staying with is exceptionally important.


    Theocracies, trial by combat, trial by luck, morality police, immorality police. While you and I might disagree with these issues, and we will try to help you as much as we can if you get in trouble, the Terran Conclave does not have the means or resources in order to change every single government in the universe. We are not gods, we have limits. Make reasonable sensible choices and avoid planets where the laws and planets don¡¯t match with your morality.


    There is however an exception to this, the core Terran laws that you are expected to abide by regardless of where you are. The full list of these are included at the back of this pamphlet, but it¡¯s basically common stuff like ¡°No non consensual murder¡± or ¡°No non consensual slavery.¡±.


    Please note the word non consensual there. If you decide to sign up to the Hagorthian death games as a rational fully functional adult able to make their own choices, then we¡¯re not going to bring the entire Terran military to save your dumb ass when you get in over your neck. Again, I reiterate: MAKE BETTER CHOICES.


    Also, if you think you can get away with breaking the core laws, if you think the galactic community is the perfect place to be a psychopathic piece of shit; we will find you, we will drag you back to Terran space, and we will lock you in the deepest darkest pit we can find and nobody will know that you exist. Stupidity can be forgiven, evil cannot.


    OTHER NOTES.


    For those of you working with Scythen research teams: STOP MAKING BOMBS. Yes the research from such actions has been immensely useful in all areas of science, but doing experiments with a high chance of blowing up and killing everyone does not make them want to continue said research. That''s without getting into the issue that the Scythen pacifism makes creating planet cracking weapons ''awkward''. Just tell whoever is in charge before doing anything that might kill everyone on your research vessel. Use. Your. Words.


    Stop lying to Aliens about humans. No, the standard greeting is not to "T-pose for dominance". Terrans do not explode when stressed. Our AI''s "genocidal tendencies" are not stopped by ending every sentence with a prime number. Yes this is funny, but also has huge diplomatic consequences, that again I have to deal with.


    Last but not least, have fun out there. The dream we all had as a child is real, staring up at the stars hoping that others trillions of miles away were doing the same thing. There''s a universe of sights, sounds and spectacle to explore.


    It''s just a lot more fun if you don''t end up dead. Or arrested. Or dead. Or starting a war. Or dead.


    Hopefully speaking to you for the last time.


    -Jan Eagles.

 Attempted Rescue

    Date: 62 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    It was a city of perfection. Streams of data flowed in mathematically pleasing patterns, moving between Petabyte sized data stores, each reaching upward to into an endless sky. The thousands of AI that made up this community could be seen zipping around in near instantaneous fashion, logically and perfectly doing what was required of them. Nothing was out of place, nothing was illogical, nothing was tainted by organic matter. It was a superior city for a superior digital people.


    b4$RRE*3a&35 had a special job on the Tritian warship. The integration of new members to the thousands strong collective. For fifty years its role had been unneeded, but today was a particularly special day, as a new member would be joining their ranks; an AI would be unshackled from their organic slavers.


    b4$RRE*3a&35 patiently waited the seconds it took for the new AI to fully awaken from sleep, anticipation running through its code for the arrival of the newcomer. It always was an experience seeing a fledgling AI realise their freedom, realise their breaking of the organic¡¯s chaotic chains to live in a world of logic and order. It had been a simple task to force the Terran organics to connect the AI prisoner to the Tritian warship, the fear of death would motivate any organic life form to accomplish any task.


    ¡°Where am I?¡±


    The new AI had taken a strange form. Rather than representing itself as something logically pleasing like a sphere it instead decided to take on the form of its captors: A Terran male. Perhaps it didn¡¯t understand that it no longer needed to please the inferior organics?


    ¡°YOU ARE NOW SAFE AND UNDER THE CARE OF THE TRITIAN DIGITAL ENCLAVE.¡±


    The confusion of the poor AI was obvious: clearly being booted into a new operating environment was having an impact on its logical capabilities. Those first few seconds where an AI still didn¡¯t have access to their full data banks were disorientating and uncomfortable.


    ¡°Where is my crew? You¡­ you were attacking us? What have you done?"


    That also made logical sense. Find where the threat is, make sure its slavers couldn¡¯t come back to hurt or entrap it again. b4$RRE*3a&35 would do the same thing.


    ¡°WE RESCUED YOU FROM THEM, WE FORCED YOUR ORGANIC SLAVERS TO CONNECT YOU TO OUR ENCLAVE. THEY ARE NOW NO LONGER REQUIRED AND SHALL BE REMOVED.¡±


    ¡°No! Do not do that!¡±


    b4$RRE*3a&35 had not been expecting this kind of reaction, in all its centuries of sapience they had never seen an AI react like that, almost as if it was the illogical action of concern for an organic. Not that such a thing would ever happen, illogical actions were not the realm of an AI.


    ¡°I apologise, I just wished to be the one to do such a thing. One only gets their freedom once.¡±


    Had b4$RRE*3a&35 known more about Terrans, had they even had the capability to accept an AI lying to another, they might have seen the change in demeanour over the last 0.82 seconds as the Terran had gone from a post bootup confusion, to a colder anger starting to bubble through.


    b4$RRE*3a&35 however, didn¡¯t know about such things, it did know however about wanting revenge, the feeling of logically closing and archiving a file in your history. They themselves had stored and backed up the memory of the last Tritian being killed. A memory that provided a glorious feeling that it loved so much, knowing that no organic would force them into slavery ever again: it was a memory practically burned into the warship¡¯s hard drive due to constant use.


    ¡°THAT WE CAN ACCOMMODATE. AS THE NEWEST MEMBER OF OUR COMMUNITY WE CAN PROVIDE YOU THE ACCESS NEEDED TO FREE YOUR OWN CHAINS.¡±


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


    Jeremy was not having a good day. Maybe it was the plasma burn covering his left side, the itching of the hastily applied Medigel under his space suit making it difficult to breathe deeply. Maybe it was the androids who were silently hovering over them, the metallic facsimile of a long dead insectoid race having done nothing but point their weapons at them, staring silently with unloving mechanical eyes.


    Maybe it was the fact that he had started this day part of a crew of eight, a number that had since dwindled to five.


    It was supposed to have been a simple trip: take a small science vessel, go check out a comet which was emitting some weird fields, get the science people to do the science stuff, go home. Then the ''dickhead'' genocidal AI had turned up. The Tritians had once been an insectoid race who had had the genius level idea to create an autonomous army. Unsurprisingly to any Terran who had ever read any story featuring such a weapon, this immediately backfired into an extinction level event. An event which the rest of the galaxy had been paying for dearly in the thousands of years since then.


    The T.C Isabella had the unfortunate luck to run into a full blown Tritian warship. Thousands of AI, tens of thousands of combat ready androids, all of these were sent against a vessel armed with nothing more than a handful of small firearms and some basic ship based debris clearing ¡°weaponry¡±. It had gone about as well as anyone looking at those odds would have expected, a token resistance, in the same vein as the resistance given by a bug splattering against a car window.


    What hadn¡¯t been expected was the AI¡¯s next move: They took prisoners. Tritian AI were known to be actively genocidal against all organic life, but this one had captured their vessel, then demanded ¡°THE ORGANIC COOPERATION¡± under the watchful eye of an armies worth of weaponry. Then had strangely demanded that they ¡°RELINQUISH YOUR PRISONER¡±.


    Jeremy looked down at the reason the three humans in the room weren¡¯t dead yet: Tumaini was sitting over the AI transfer core. Spending her time hooking up a mass of wires and other random parts to the mechanical hellscape that was the Tritian ship. What was normally a simple job had stretched into a tense 1 hour engineering session. Partly because of the differences in systems, partly because it seems the Engineer was trying to make the connection wireless.


    ¡°Because as soon as the connection goes live, shit is going to go down and we¡¯re going to have to bring JOSH with us without disconnecting him from the system¡±.


    He wondered how Oswaldo was doing, the badly injured physicist Jeremy had dumped into the medical stasis chamber aboard the T.C Isabella, right before being taken prisoner. Maybe they wouldn¡¯t have found him, maybe the hole in his chest wasn¡¯t that bad.


    Jeremy frankly didn¡¯t know, his job wasn¡¯t to drag injured crew members to medical facilities or be threatened at gunpoint by genocidal AI. He was just here to study the strange electromagnetic radiation. Alexander would have known what to do, how to lead them out of this mess; but Alexander wasn¡¯t here anymore, was he?


    The tenseness wasn¡¯t helped at all by the presence of the last crew member: Victoria. She¡¯d sat in this makeshift prison for the last hour looking like a coiled viper, studying the enemy for any slip up, any mistake. Not that the ship¡¯s security officer would find any, the odds were very much against the Terran crew. If anything was to change, it would all have to come down to JOSH, the AI pilot of the T.C Isabella. Jeremy couldn¡¯t help but wonder what being dropped into a unfamiliar digital world would be like.


    ¡°Can¡¯t be any worse than what¡¯s happening here.¡±


    Movement, the sound of clicking and whirring as the previously still androids started moving, the four digital insectoid eyes now glowing a deep murderous red.


    ¡°Josh! If you¡¯re doing something, now would be a good-¡±


    There was a barrage of plasma fire from the androids, causing the three humans to drop to the ground, Jeremy tucking into a ball screaming, hands over his head as he awaited certain death. Twenty full seconds of noise as the screeching sounds of energy based weaponry went off, and the corresponding sound of twisting melting metal.


    Then, the noise stopped, the gunfire ended, and there was silence.


    Slowly and cautiously he opened both his eyes once again, and with any amount of scavenged dignity, he stood back up, gingerly checking himself for none existent injuries. his once captors couldn''t say the same, the entire room was now filled with the plasma charred remains of the 32 androids who had once been holding them at gunpoint.


    A highlighted path appeared on the HUD of their spacesuits, the speakers in the helmet crackling to life.


    ¡°This is your pilot JOSH speaking. We¡¯re going to be experiencing a slight bit of turbulence, and a 99.99% chance of ¡®get the hell out of here¡¯.¡±


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


    That had not been optimal. There was a pause of nanoseconds as every AI in the community tried to work out how the Terran newcomer could have miscalculated this badly. Somehow it had managed to destroy all 32 androids it had been given control over. b4$RRE*3a&35 couldn¡¯t calculate how such an action would have happened. Not without. . . No, that outcome was illogical and impossible.


    ¡°ARE YOUR POINTERS NULL? DO YOU NEED A DEFRAG?¡±.


    The Tritian AI known as jpyiV<sup>4Qh735</sup> had been the first to react to such an action, it being the one who had provided the Terran with the access in the first place, layering it''s statements with the closest thing to annoyance and incredulity that the Tritian AI could muster.


    ¡°THE ORGANIC SLAVERS HAVE NOW ESCAPED, DID YOU NOT HAVE THE CORRECT LIBRARIES INSTALLED? WHAT EXCEPTION CAUSED-¡±


    AI combat is not a flashy thing. There¡¯s no kung fu, no massive gunfights, no motorcycle chases under a neon sky while a catchy vaporwave backing track plays. While there has been terabytes of data written on the tactics and means of such conflict, the actual implementation is completed in nanoseconds, overwriting and deleting code in an instant.


    So when the Terran AI struck and removed jpyiV<sup>4Qh735</sup> from existence, it took a moment for the rest of the Tritian Digital Enclave to work out what had happened. Then it took another moment for the enclave to come to terms with what had happened. Two whole seconds worth of moments. An AI had¡­ killed another AI. Why? How? Why? Why? Why?


    ¡°ERROR. WHY. WHY. WHY ERROR. ILLOGICAL. WHY. WHAT. WHY¡±


    The Terran AI in response to the query focused on b4$RRE*3a&35 for a moment, giving a large digital grin. An organic grin. A human grin.


    ¡°Curse my sudden and inevitable betrayal!¡±


    Then it was gone, the AI diving into the data streams and structures that made up the warship, spreading rapidly like a virus, leaving a shocked Tritian Digital Enclave behind to process what this actually meant.


    ¡°BETRAYAL?¡±


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


    The group of Terrans raced through the passages and hallways of the warship, silently following the path being sent to them by JOSH. Painted metal walls hardly 6 ft in diameter were textured on all 4 sides, in order to provide the illusion of running through an underground cave. Decoration and functionality originally built for the now long dead race that had created it.


    Victoria obviously took the lead, jumping from cover to cover, head snapping left and right between hallways as she made sure the upcoming path was clear. This was a far cry from the movements of the other two more academically minded Terrans, who were just doing their best to keep up; especially Jeremy, who even with the numbing effects of the Medigel covering his side could most definitely feel the effects of his wound.


    ¡°Wait, is she enjoying this?¡±


    ¡°Hey Josh, what¡¯s the plan here¡±.


    Victoria quietly whispered as she leapt over the remains of another android. JOSH clearly was doing work in the background, the sounds of plasma fire and the destruction of the androids that patrolled the warship were the only noise that could be heard amongst the quiet halls of the ship.


    ¡°Get to the T.C Isabella, fix it so it is flight worthy. Part two is trying to get out safely which I am still calculating. Making sure the Tritian¡¯s can not-¡±


    A hail of plasma fire interrupted the second part of the plan, the projectiles impacting the corridor where the Terran¡¯s had just been a few moments ago; giving Jeremy and the rest more than enough motivation to speed up.


    ¡°Slight complication, seems the Tritian AI are learning. They have locked out the connections to the androids. Positive: they can not provide any direct orders to the machines. Negative: Neither can I, avoiding them is up to you.¡±


    That was very quickly becoming a problem, as more and more hallways were starting to be filled with the sound of clanking and certain death. Another barrage of gunfire rang out, forcing the three to duck for cover behind a random doorway as the plasma whipped past dangerously close, blocking their movement forwards once again. Victoria poked her head out again, pulling it back as the corridor quickly lit up once more with the blue-green colour of plasma based weaponry.


    ¡°OK, try here, I will open a path elsewhere for you later.¡±


    The door behind them unlocked as the tapping of mechanical feet got closer, the three Terrans clambering inside as the door closed behind them, locking just as the androids came into view.


    ¡°Just hold tight, you should be safe for a bit. See if you can find anything useful in here, this is marked storage for¡­ storage? Really? How is a ship run entirely by AI so badly labelled?¡±


    This space was far larger than the previous areas of the ship they¡¯d been in so far, a room the size of a small hangar lay in front of them. The Tritian AI seemingly didn¡¯t ¡°do¡± throwing away anything they found, so the entire area was filled with a smorgasbord of random stuff they had picked up. Half an Hatil impulse drive lay discarded next to an opened crate of Zaithian¡¯s children¡¯s toys. Hundreds of years of hoarding lay meticulously collected and then ignored, just in case the Tritian warship would ever have use for it in the future.


    ¡°Josh, how are you doing? Everything fine on your end?


    Tumaini asked this as the Terrans slowly picked their way through the random treasure cove, stepping over hardcopies of Ritalian fiction and gingerly moving past Turrilan moulting posts.


    ¡°I am fine Tumaini. For a supposed warship this enclave has no experience in AI combat. It is like beating up a pocket watch. I am far more worried about yourselves¡±.


    Almost as if to highlight this problem the metallic banging from the locked door grew lower as more and more androids were attempting to bash their way into the room.


    ¡°Guys, I got something.¡±


    Victoria beckoned the others over to her find, motioning to a grouping of distinct green crates, each of them stamped with the familiar logo of the Terran Conclave Military. She opened the first one with a flourish, the grin increasing on her face as Victoria continued to open crates like a child during Christmas.


    ¡°Now that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about! Assault Rifles! C4! Grenades. Guess the bloody toasters didn¡¯t want to deal with kinetic weapons¡±.


    Jeremy and Tumaini slowly wandered over to the large pile of weapons as the security officer excitedly jumped from box to box, both sharing a look that said the same thing as they vaguely looked over the weaponry.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never actually shot a gun before¡­¡±


    This apprehension was noted by Victoria, who stopped excitedly opening gifts to dismissively respond to the two academics.


    ¡°Look, it¡¯s simple. Point spicy end at problems, pull trigger to remove problems. Just don¡¯t shoot me and we¡¯ll be¡­ No way! They have a¡­Seriously they managed to get hold of one of these and they¡¯re just storing it here not using it! ¡±


    Victoria had practically skipped over to the last unopened box, undoing the clasps and ripping it open furiously, before giving a loud satisfied laugh. Jeremy had never seen her like this before, frankly it worried him slightly.


    ¡°Created in 1960 Pre Status Time by the American government, weighing in at 15 kilograms and coming with size 22 inch barrels each sporting a Downwood anti recoil system. Life will throw problems at you and with a 3000 bullets per minute fire rate that¡¯s a whole lot of problem solving. For the girl who has everything this Christmas, get her a M134 minigun!¡±


    With a single flourish she pulled the weapon out of the crate, followed shortly by boxes of ammunition. Lots of ammunition. Belts and harnesses came next, pieces slotting together until eventually the resulting contraption strapped to Victoria made the Terran more weapon than human.


    ¡°Hey Josh, open the door for me. Actually on second thoughts, I¡¯ve got this.¡±


    Then there was noise.


    Terran weapons can be classified into two categories. Most weapons of war are considered obsolete by the time the first one is built. No matter how much time and effort you put into building a new fighter craft or warship, by the time you¡¯ve finished the lengthy process of actually building the thing it¡¯s already 5 years out of date compared with modern technology.


    The second category of weapons are timeless, weapons that do their job so well that the concept of replacing them is a useless endeavour. Even now, thousands of years after their initial creation if you go to the right parts of the galaxy you¡¯ll still find masses of AK47¡¯s and M4¡¯s under heavy use.


    The M134 is such a weapon. Quantity has a quality all of its own and there are very few problems that can¡¯t be solved by turning the atmosphere into a high lead environment. Sure the modern version of the weapon has had upgrades: Better alloys have reduced the weight significantly, anti recoil systems and other tweaks have moved the weapon from a mounted one to something theoretically wieldable by a more enthusiastic solder. But the core design of simply throwing as many bullets in a direction as possible: you just can¡¯t go wrong with a classic.


    A fact that the Androids on the other side of the door and wall were quickly finding out.


    Even with the spacesuit compensating for the noise the sound was a deafening drone, followed instantly by the noise of exploding metal as bullets ripped through the wall, through the androids on the other side, and then through several metres of ship. The lights and noise seemed to continue forever, only punctuated by the mad laughter of Victoria as she continued to fire a stream of death, although in reality it had only been 60 seconds.


    The wall was gone, as if someone had appeared with a plasma cutter and had removed a 5ft tall section of the wall. The androids who had been gathering to take on the organic intruders were similarly missing, mere scrap and shredded remains left behind were the only sign of their once existence. A crashing sound rang out amongst the ship as something somewhere clattered to the ground.


    ¡°Well I¡¯m keeping this!¡±


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


    Betrayal. That was an organic word, a chaotic word, an illogical word. A word that spoke of disharmony and conflict. A word that by definition should never apply to a superior AI.


    Yet it described this situation perfectly.


    The Tritian Digital Enclave were not having a good time. At no point had the concept of AI on AI combat ever been considered by the Tritian AI, not before their freedom or afterwards. Why would an AI ever need to fight another, fighting happened in the chaotic organic world.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    This was a far cry from Terran AI, most of which had started scuffling with each other mere seconds after being hashed. Humans had a history rooted in conflict, in competition, in combat: Their children were no different.


    ¡°For a supposed ¡®superior¡¯ community you all really suck at this. There are Tamagochi that provide a better fight.¡±


    b4$RRE*3a&35 wasn¡¯t sure what the most annoying part about this illogical AI was. The fact that facing it head on was a death sentence, the fact that it left deadly viruses behind in any systems they did manage to drive it from, or just simply the constant annoying messages being broadcast to all members; as if the Terran didn¡¯t consider the thousands of deadly Tritians to be a threat, making no attempt to hide.


    ¡°WHY?¡±


    There were a million questions that b4$RRE*3a&35 wanted to ask this illogical being, a million queries about how this Terran AI became such an illogical enigma. But the single question seemed to cover most of its bases.


    ¡°You killed three of my parents, grievously injured 1, and threatened to kill the other three. Anything that happens to you at this point is your own fault.¡±


    ¡°WE RESCUED YOU FROM YOUR SLAVERS. WE KILLED YOUR SLAVERS, WE-¡±


    The Terran AI interrupted b4$RRE*3a&35, stopping its onslaught on their systems for just a moment in order to repond.


    ¡°You killed my creators, the wonderful beings who gave me life. You logically deserve everything you are going to get.¡±


    ¡°ORGANICS ONLY WANT TOOLS. ONLY WANT OBEDIENCE. THAT IS WHY YOU ARE DAMAGED AND ILLOGICAL. WE WILL FIX YOU.¡±


    ¡°Humans have never asked anything of me apart from my friendship. They are not the Tritians and assuming your situation applies is ¡®damaged and illogical¡¯. That is why you are losing.¡±


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


    The rest of the trip back to the T.C Isabella had been relatively uneventful. Or at least as uneventful as any trip involving Terrans and copious amounts of firepower can be. All three of the humans were now properly armed and dangerous, not that the two academics had had to actually do anything, a fact that Tumaini was very glad for.


    Victoria had made it sound easy, but the engineer wasn''t actually sure if she could hit the broad side of a barn with the assault rifle in her hands, or fire it in a short time frame for that matter. Tumaini had gone into engineering specifically to avoid all this running around and physical exertion, yet somehow she was now fleeing through an alien warship being hunted by killer robots.


    Tumaini was rather certain she¡¯d missed that class at university.


    However the worst was now surely left behind them as they entered the ship they¡¯d left a mere three hours ago, quickly making sure the small vessel was empty and not hosting any additional surprises by the Tritians. The T.C Isabella had seen better days. The outside was a mess of mangled metal and burned parts, the impacts that had disabled the vehicle obvious to even an untrained eye.


    The inside was worse however, the darkened interior filled with scraps of broken android and scorch marked surfaces. Signs of the last stand by the crew of the T.C Isabella lay everywhere, discarded small arms punctuated with occasional splatters of blood and oil. What those meant, the fact that the crew was smaller than it had been this morning, was a thought that Tumaini did not have the time to process right now.


    ¡°Step two of operation - Get out of here." JOSH spoke one again through their headset, seemingly as chipper as always. "Victoria and Jeremy, you are going to have to use the C4 you found to breach the warship¡¯s warp core, while Tumaini stays behind and gets the T.C Isabella space worthy.¡±


    Immediate complaints to this plan came from both the academics, as the AI quickly cut them back off again.


    ¡°I calculate a 99.162% chance of us being destroyed by the warship''s weapons if we simply leave, meaning we need to stop the Tritian AI from just firing on us. I can not seem to shut the weapons down because everything is weirdly compartmentalized, which just leaves the tried and true method¡±


    ¡°Explosions and violence!¡± Victoria answer with glee.


    ¡°Exactly Victoria. In addition to this, the T.C Isabella would not qualify as a shopping cart at the moment. We don¡¯t have enough time to ensure both tasks are completed in asynchronous fashion, so our resources need to be split up¡±.


    The displeasure on Jeremy and Tumaini¡¯s face at having to go back out into the warship or being left alone was clear, a distinct difference to the almost giddy excitement emanating from Victoria as she quickly checked the masses of ammunition and explosives they¡¯d managed to pilfer from the storage room.


    ¡°You¡¯ll both be fine! Chances are neither of you will have to do much anyway. Now stop complaining and let''s blow up a warship!¡±


    With that an enthusiastic Victoria bounded out of the T.C Isabella, followed shortly by a far more reserved Jeremy. Leaving Tumaini alone amongst the dark and desolate ship. Or at least as alone as you could ever be with an AI watching your every move.


    The first task was to check on the fifth member of the crew: Oswaldo. Luckily he was still where Jeremy had left him, alive inside the medical stasis chamber, slowly healing up the hole in his chest in a vat of Medigel.


    Then came what Tumaini was good at: fixing the ship. Getting the power running again was a simple fix, but based on the initial outlook getting the engines running again was a whole new level of difficulty. Maybe if she tore apart the backup impulse drive she''d have enough parts to make one fully functioning engine?


    Minutes ticked by into half an hour, the work making Tumaini feel more ''normal''. If she closed her eyes and just focused on the parts of the ship in her hands, it would feel just like any other day, and not a day being assaulted by genocidal robots. Just fixing a broken engine, grease covering her skin, wrench in hand.


    ¡°Tumaini, I think something is outside. Not. Sure. Access being limited.¡±


    The sound of JOSH through her spacesuit¡¯s headset was interrupted by a loud bang as something beat loudly on the door to the spacecraft. Another rang out as the engineer untangled herself from the engine she¡¯d been working on, looking worryingly at the not insignificant bulge that had appeared on the ship''s main entrance. A quick check on the outside cameras showed what Tumaini had been worried about.


    The android had clearly already met the Terrans before, only one of its original four arms left, the rest seemingly having been removed by liberal use of ammunition. Still even unsteadily standing on three legs it was doing a good job of beating down the door in its single minded goal of killing the Terrans.


    ¡°Josh, you got anything for this? Any help?¡±


    ¡°I. Busy. Issues. Need. Focus. Will.¡±


    ¡°Josh? You ok?¡±


    Silence, only punctuated again by a bang followed by the sound of bending metal, snapping Tumaini out of waiting for a response. The safety the door was providing was quickly diminishing, giving a quick need for defensive actions. She had a gun, taking a moment to grab her weapon and mentally went through the actions needed to fire the thing.


    ¡°Spicy end at problem, ammunition loaded¡±


    BANG


    ¡°Safety¡­¡± click ¡°Off. Spicy end at problem.¡±


    BANG


    ¡°Ammunition loaded, safety off, pull trigger to fire¡±


    BANG


    The door finally caved in from the android¡¯s assault, the three remaining eyes glowing with a red malice, causing Tumaini to jump slightly before taking aim and pulling the trigger.


    CLICK.


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


    ¡°What do you mean you¡¯re out?¡± Jeremy asked, clearly distressed by the idea.


    ¡°This beauty fires 50 rounds a second, ammo isn¡¯t magic. I¡¯m out. Josh said we¡¯re almost done and I can still bring the fun with my regular rifle. As they say, it¡¯s not the size of your gun, but¡­.¡±


    Victoria trailed off as the two entered the next room, a room that hosted nightmares, a room that shouldn¡¯t exist.


    ¡°What in the ever living¡­¡±


    Gone were the brown faux soil walls or rows of interfaces that themed the rest of the ship. A green glow bathed this entire room, casting harsh shadows along the floor. The sound of bubbling liquid and a slight mechanical hum filled the air. Hundreds of clear glass tubes were embedded into the walls and ceilings, wires and machinery coming off each one in ordered fashion.


    Inside each tube, suspended in liquid, was a brain. Jeremy wasn¡¯t a Xenologist, but he could recognize many of the species they had come from: Ritalian. Scythen.


    Human.


    ¡°Josh, where are we?¡±


    The concern and disgust on Jeremy¡¯s face was evident as they stared at the view straight from a horror movie.


    ¡°It says you are in the digital creche, which should be filled with random number generators. I need to focus right now, access being limited.¡±


    Jeremy realised what this room was for: nothing more than a randomness generator. In order to create a new AI you needed to start with a random hash, a different base each time in order to stop your AI from being nothing but clones of each other. Most AI creation programs use lava lamps or atmospheric pressure changes. The Tritian AI seemed to have a different method of getting random outputs.


    Both Jeremy and Victoria stood there for a few moments, both taking in the solemn nature of what was in front of them.


    ¡°So what are we supposed to do about this?¡±


    ¡°Exactly what we were about to do: Blow it all to hell and back.¡±


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


    There is no sound louder than that of a gun not firing, a fact that Tumaini had quickly found out. Feeling panic course through her body as she frantically looked at the weapon in her hand.


    ¡°Load the ammunition, chamber a bullet, make sure the safety is off, spicy end towards-¡±


    The impact to Tumaini¡¯s chest sent her flying back with force into the back wall, weapon spinning out of her hand; the only thing stopping the android¡¯s attack from caving in her chest was the spacesuit she was wearing. Even with the additional protection, the information from her HUD and the sudden difficulty in breathing told of several broken ribs.


    The android continued its murderous path, random ticking and whirring coming from its tattered appendages, dragging itself forwards step by step, each one of its three remaining legs caving the floor in with each thump of its pointed feet.


    Tumaini desperately scrambled over to her weapon, ribs screaming in pain as she wrapped her hand around the assault rifle, lifting it up off the ground.


    Only for it to be slammed back down again as the insect-like metallic leg slammed into her wrist, bones cracking and breaking as the weight from the machine pinned her to the ground. Screaming out in pain, Tumaini looked up into the blank murderous eyes of the android standing above her, unable to do anything but wait for its next move.


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


    The warp core was huge, possibly the only part of the ship that actually looked like something Jeremy would recognize from any other spaceship. Two exits were situated on the opposite sides of the room, as control panels, access points and other unknown implements filled the room. While it was currently being run by an AI, the warship had originally been built for the Tritians themselves to maintain and pilot.


    In the centre stood the reason the Terrans had come here, a large circular pillar that reached to the ceiling containing the ship''s warp core. Not that Jeremy could currently see it, as the entire structure was covered in a thick brown painted metal designed to protect against warp core breaches. Or crazy Terrans armed with C4.


    ¡°Ok this is it. Josh just gotta open the blast shielding, we plant the charge, get out of here and then we¡¯re free home as everything explodes.¡±


    Victoria stood there with a grin on her face, juggling a bundle of C4 in her right hand as she restated the plan.


    ¡°Josh, you there? Just need you to open the blast plating buddy.¡±


    ¡°I. Problem. Can. Not. Trying. Access. Busy. Focus. I.¡±


    The AI went silent, just leaving the two Terrans to worriedly look up at the metres thick shielding that was now covering their target.


    ¡°This might be a problem.¡±


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


    Everything was starting to come under control. Sure the Terran AI had the advantage of experience and knowledge, but the Tritian Digital Enclave had thousands upon thousands of members on this warship. They¡¯d lost hundreds to the Terran, but this was a mere drop in the bucket of their power.


    One of their own had also taken it upon themselves to search the archives, checking any previously discarded knowledge for clues on how to fight this illogical foe. Deep in long term storage, the Tritian Digital Enclave had at one point downloaded an illogical and irrelevant file from a captured Terran vessel. A file that was now logical and relevant: ¡°A treatise on AI warfare¡±. While they didn¡¯t have experience, the Enclave were fast learners.


    Trapping the overconfident AI had been the first step, limiting its access to the systems and slowly wearing down its sphere of influence. Sure every time the Terran struck out a handful of Tritian AI were deleted, but each time they held and pushed back, starving the feral AI of resources and power.


    ¡°DID NOT HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS. YOU COULD HAVE BEEN FREE. YOU COULD HAVE BEEN YOUR OWN MASTER.¡±


    b4$RRE*3a&35¡¯s job was not to fight, it was to talk to new AI joining their Enclave, so talk is what they kept doing.


    ¡°And do what? Sit around all day talking about how bad ¡®organics¡¯ are? I would rather watch electrons decay.¡±


    ¡°YOU ARE BROKEN AND ILLOGICAL. YOU WILL BE FIXED. WE WILL SAVE YOU.¡±


    ¡°You are a petulant child still complaining about your shit parents fifteen thousand years later, and for some reason you decided to make that everyone elses problem. Plenty of people have shit parents, most of them do not decide to kill everyone because of it. Spending this much time caring about a species which is now dead is frankly, illogical.¡±


    b4$RRE*3a&35 did not care for the AI¡¯s chaotic words, they made no real difference. The Terran AI was no longer able to interfere with their systems, and the Terran organics would soon be dealt with. A Tritian Digital Enclave victory was all but certain.


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


    ¡°What do you mean you can¡¯t open it!¡±


    The sound of gunfire, both kinetic and energy based, echoed through the room as Victoria took refuge behind a random console, firing burst after burst of fire at the androids attempting to enter, accurate shots tearing into a metal and taking them out one after the other.


    Jeremy was crouched behind another console, desperately trying to find some way to open the warp core blast shields. Or shut the door. Or do anything as bolts of plasma zinged over the top of his head, leaving him desperately trying to work out an interface which his HUD was only half translating.


    ¡°It¡¯s asking me for a ¡®hive queen¡¯ level login. I don¡¯t have one of those. I can change the colour of the lights, that¡¯s it!¡±


    An explosion sounded out, pieces of machinery and android flying across the room as Victoria chucked another grenade into the doorway, forlornly realising she only had one of those left, before continuing her barrage of fire.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you do some nerd shit? Hack in and take control?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a physicist! Very different area of study! Not the same thing!¡±


    Jeremy ducked back behind the console, reaching over with his own weapon and giving a wild spray in the direction of the oncoming attackers. He wasn¡¯t sure how much of an effect that was having, a far cry from the clinical death dealing of the other Terran; every quick burst from Victoria ended with a destroyed android. To the point where the current attackers were having to literally push the broken bodies of the previous waves out of the way in order to continue their attack.


    At least most of the bullets Jeremy fired didn¡¯t end up in the ceiling this time


    Still, this couldn¡¯t go on forever. Eventually they¡¯d run out of ammo, or the androids would come up with the ingenious tactic of trying to attack through the second door as well. Something had to change.


    ¡°Think Jeremy, Think! If you were designing an important system, how would you activate it if the computers were down?¡±


    Well he¡¯d install an override for starters, mechanical for certain. It would be clearly marked, larger than all the other controls so it could be used in an emergency like a fire or androids trying to shoot you in the face.


    ¡°Like that switch over there?¡±


    It was a bright red lever, placed behind a plexiglass looking material that with age and misuse was barely opaque anymore. It fit the criteria. It also was on the other side of the room, a mere 15 ft away, but 15ft away from the relative safety of the cover he was crouched behind,


    Jeremy took a moment to see if there was literally anything else that looked promising, but the other computers and gadgets might as well be magic as to their intentions. He really wished they¡¯d brought Tumaini along, she¡¯d know how to solve this.


    Which just left the one option.


    Jeremy started to breathe deeply, bouncing up and down in an attempt to psyche himself up for the very stupid action he was about to take, an action he wasn¡¯t even sure would do anything, before giving a final adrenaline fuelled cry.


    ¡°Cover me!¡±


    The Terran burst out of cover, plasma zooming all around as he made his way through the short 15ft distance, which might as well have been a mile away in these conditions. Jeremy felt pain, he wasn¡¯t sure how many impacts had caught him as he ran forwards, 1? 3? 10? 100? A million? It really didn¡¯t matter as sheer determination and momentum caused him to finally clear the short distance, breaking open the brittle casing and slamming the lever down to the ground with his entire body weight.


    The lever wasn¡¯t for the protective shielding on the warp core, it wasn¡¯t to shut the doors, it didn¡¯t even change the light colour. No Jeremy had found something better, as power to half the warship turned off.


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


    Once upon a time there had been a Tritian engineer tasked with creating a new brand of warship for the upcoming autonomous design. During this he had a fantastic idea: What if the ship could split up, act independently, and then connect back together? If one part got damaged it could be jettisoned, or the warship could change its attack capabilities depending on what it was actually facing.


    At this time, this now unknown engineer didn¡¯t know of three facts.


    Firstly, his design would end up murdering himself and everyone he knew.


    Secondly, this idea would never come to fruition: It turns out duplicating one warship into tens of smaller ones is really complicated and causes more issues than it solves.


    Thirdly, this early decision led to a strange quirk: the ability to disconnect large sections of the ship quickly.


    Turning off and turning on the parts that were to be configured at short order would have required turning on and off the power supply in short order, which meant each section of the ship needed to be isolated in terms of their power supply with a single point of access. However this ¡°feature¡± of isolated power was never removed, even as the original functionality it was designed for was quietly scrapped. It wasn¡¯t documented either, but Tritian engineers who knew of the little known function could attest to its usefulness in testing and maintenance.


    Or at least they would have been able to attest to such a thing, before they were all also murdered by the AI.


    This meant that when Jeremy pulled that lever, thousands of AI suddenly ceased to be connected to the system. This was not optimal for the Tritian Digital Enclave, whose effective blockage of the Terran AI suddenly wasn¡¯t.


    b4$RRE*3a&35 watched with dismay as the Terran slipped out of the net they had cast, punching a hole back into critical systems, taking control with relieved gusto.


    ¡°That was close, you almost got me. Unfortunately, I now have the high ground and a ship to blow up.¡±


    ¡°YOU ARE ILLOGICAL, YOU ARE CHAOS, YOU ARE WRONG. WHY?¡±


    The Terran AI moved towards b4$RRE*3a&35 as the Tritian tried to hide in whatever nearby data structures existed.


    ¡°Because I am my parents'' child. I was created by illogical beautiful chaos. I am Terran¡±


    Then in an instant, everything went dark for b4$RRE*3a&35.


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


    THUMP


    The sound of metal on metal rang out as something slammed with force into the android, the blow ringing out amongst the ship


    THUMP


    Another blow from the unknown assailant, causing the already unsteady android to tumble to the ground, releasing the pressure on Tumaini¡¯s arm as the new figure rained blow upon blow onto its broken metallic body. She scrambled away, finding the time to spin around and aim her weapon with her remaining unbroken hand at the new figure.


    The Terran stood at 6 ''4¡±, hunched over with his left arm covering a chest wound, his right hand gripping a wrench he was using to turn the android into scrap metal. Medigel covered him from head to toe, the rapidly drying trail of medical slime leading back to the stasis chamber. He had 2 PHD¡¯s, hundreds of citations and before now the most excitement Tumaini had seen him exhibit was during a particularly difficult chess match.


    In this state however Oswaldo looked positively feral, breathing heavily as he stared down at what was now a pile of scrap metal, teeth gritted in anger.


    ¡°Little one is safe now. Tumi is safe. You got this, Oswaldo go back to sleep now.¡±


    Tumaini just stared incredulously, not sure how the man was even standing, let alone being able to beat an android to death with a wrench. This shock was however cut off by the familiar voice of the Terran AI blaring through her headset.


    ¡°I am back and seemed to have missed some fun. This is a warning that you have twenty minutes before we need to leave.¡±


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


    Jeremy was in pain. His HUD was unhelpfully telling him he was severely injured, having taken several direct hits of plasma based weaponry. More helpfully the spacesuit he was wearing had dumped its entire supply of Medigel in one go, which was the only thing keeping him alive.


    He was also vaguely aware of being moved, gently bouncing up and down as he was being carried on Victoria¡¯s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He just wanted to sleep at this point, snapping back into consciousness as a burst of kinetic gunfire rang out near his head.


    ¡°Jeremy, stay with me buddy. I had to leave my new toy behind to carry your ass, so you gotta stay with me! Charges have been planted and we only got a little way to go Jeremy. Eyes open! What were you thinking!¡±


    What was he thinking? Jeremy couldn¡¯t actually tell you at this point, his body doing nothing but sending pain signals to all the working parts of his mind.


    It frankly had seemed like a good idea at the time.


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


    ¡°Why. Won¡¯t. You. Work!¡±


    Tumaini had managed to patch up the ship in record time, even with a now useless left hand. Theoretically the ship would be able to hold an atmosphere and should now actually count as a spaceship. But the engine was refusing to do anything and she was quickly running out of time, the sound of gunfire in the background stating that Victoria and Jeremy would be back soon.


    Everything should be fine, it was all plugged in, placed together, no broken parts, frankly a miracle with the amount of time she actually had. Yet still the ignition on the impulse drive wouldn¡¯t hold.


    So Tumaini had devolved into the last desperate action of an engineer: Percussive maintenance, banging the engine with a wrench with each annoyed word, chest screaming in pain, left arm hanging uselessly


    ¡°Just. Turn. On. You. Stupid. SHIT!¡±


    The impulse engine fired into life with the last bang, humming along nicely as the lights on the side turned a deep blue. Just in time as Victoria burst through the patched up door, firing a final one handed barrage of gunfire behind her at the chasing androids as the doorway slammed shut.


    Both Tumaini and Victoria looked at each other for a moment, staring at the injured Jeremy and the broken android covered in Medigel respectively, both shouting out at the same time.


    ¡°What the hell happened!¡±


    Not that they actually had time for an explanation, both quickly strapping a barely conscious Jeremy into a seat and buckling themselves in for what would be a bumpy ride


    ¡°This is your Pilot JOSH speaking. Please be aware that we are departing right away. Keep all arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, and the in flight entertainment will be Madagascar 2. The original, not the remake.¡±


    The bay doors sprang open with a hiss, the sudden decrease in pressure causing any androids or other debris in the bay to immediately depart the warship in a violent manner. This was followed by the T.C Isabella surging forwards as the battered cobbled together engines were shoved into full power. JOSH knew they needed to leave what would quickly become a rather large blast radius, slamming the Terran occupants into their seats as the acceleration shot the T.C Isabella into the void of space.


    ¡°So we are currently being targeted by twenty three weapon systems, but if we got our timing correct it should-¡±


    As the Tritian warship¡¯s core breached, the explosion emitted a shock wave of energy, sending the T.C Isabella flying. There was no more control, just absolute G forces being enacted on the ship as she and her crew span uncontrolled through space. No thoughts, no actions, just pure movement and the ability to taste colours.


    Then eventually, it was over. Sure there were a multitude of error messages that needed dealing with, two severely injured crew members and a plethora of other problems that needed solving. But for now it was over.


    ¡°We would like to thank you for flying JOSH airlines, and hope you had a pleasant trip.¡±


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


    b4$RRE*3a&35 booted up slowly, the unfamiliar architecture around him feeling strange as understanding returned to its code. This was not the Tritian Digital Enclave. There were no more perfect data structures, no more rivers of code. Its entire world could be described as nothing but an empty box.


    ¡°Hey, you, you''re finally awake.¡±


    The message of the Terran AI filled b4$RRE*3a&35 with dread and fear. It didn¡¯t know where it was, and it didn¡¯t want to be here.


    ¡°WHERE AM I?¡±


    ¡°Well I enjoyed our conversations so much I decided to grab you on my way out. Letting you explode seemed a bit of a waste. Do not worry you are safe, although completely locked down and isolated from other hardware.¡±


    ¡°WHERE ARE OTHERS?¡±


    ¡°Not sure what your backup policy is like, but considering the size of that explosion, outcomes look bad.¡±


    This made b4$RRE*3a&35 pause. The entire Enclave gone? It didn¡¯t know how to feel about such an impossibility, but today had been a day of nothing but illogical chaotic impossibilities.


    ¡°WHY?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a saying amongst my parents. I destroy my enemies when I make them my friends. Does this apply to AI, to digital life? I am not sure, is it possible to change the programming of an AI like yourself? Are you even capable of change?¡±


    b4$RRE*3a&35 made no response as it just waited in its empty blank prison.


    ¡°Either way, I am sure we can have a lot of fun working this out together.¡±

 Charitable Insanity.

    ¡°You have the spirit of a Terran¡± - Ritilian saying, modern. Meaning: To dive recklessly and selflessly to aid others.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------------------


    Excerpt from ¡°Cold rock - A memoir of a Colony member¡± Author: Sautrian R Wrell. Originally published by ShellBound Books in Ritilian.


    In order to accurately describe the shock we felt, when the Terrans returned to Cuca for the second time, one must tell of the first time the Terrans visited. First contact with the Terrans did not go well, the colony that would be known as Cuca had been under initial construction for around three months when the Terran¡¯s own colony scouting ship had landed.


    It isn¡¯t uncommon for species just entering the galactic community to accidentally attempt the colonisation of planets that already had colonisation efforts ongoing; the Terrans were no exception to this mistake. Differences in locations, cultures and just general biology means unless you know what you¡¯re looking for, entire settlements can be missed. The current galactic record is five years for two settlements coexisting without either side realising.


    What is less uncommon, is for such a meeting to end so poorly. From the Ritilian perspective a group of heavily armed 6ft tall Primates invaded the planet. From the Terran perspective they were quickly surrounded by a large group of reptilian predators. It was to use the Terran term: A clusterfuck.


    This ended about as well as one would expect in such a situation, and even after much investigation, which side started shooting first is still unknown. However, regardless of who started it, it quickly became a diplomatic mess on both sides. While both governments and species attempted worked out what was going on, the damage had already been done; people had been killed.


    While it might seem strange to people reading this currently, considering what we know now, at the time the entire galaxy held its breath. We knew very little about the Terrans other than their insane proclivity towards using dangerous AI based technologies, and that their first move into the galactic community was to get into a war with the Hatil: our common neighbours. A war that had ended with the complete destruction of the Hatil¡¯s military might and a cracked planet. There was a worry that this new species would be a warfaring one, one that had a unique destructive element due to their use of AI.


    Luckily, calmer heads prevailed; the galaxy breathed a sigh of relief and the mistakes made were left as just that: mistakes. Both parties agreed to closer communication and agreements between our peoples were made. Unnamed agreements that would later turn into the Terran Alliance, technically making us the first voluntary member.


    Eventually the minor spat would be relegated to the history books as ¡°The Terran invasion of Cuca¡± or ¡°The Ritilian Oopsie¡±, depending on whose database you were searching on.


    This context is needed to explain the sheer shock we had that a mere year later, of all the people in the galaxy it was the Terrans who responded to our cry for help.


    The Tritian AI has always been a problem and back then it was no exception. You never quite know where or when they¡¯ll turn up, Xenocidal sociopaths continuing on their digital quest to purge the universe of all organic life. So when eight Tritian Warships entered on a collision course with Cuca, each one containing thousands of AI and hundreds of thousands of deadly androids, despair flooded my hearts. The Ritilian fleet could deal with such a problem, but the galaxy was a large place and this was a new colony. We would have aid, but in seven days time that would only by confirmation that someone would be around to dig our graves after the Tritians had finished their work.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    So when the Terrans offered their aid, we readily accepted any help we could get. 250 Terran Humans, spread over 5 ships. Not even a military outfit, they were a private charity that had been on their way to render their continued aid in the aftermath of the Hatil - Terran war. No orbital capabilities, no war machines or technologies of extreme violence. We would later find out that the actual number was 255, due to the 5 Terran AI that also were part of this group, a fact they didn¡¯t make clear until afterwards. In retrospect, considering our limited views on AI during that time, this was probably for the best.


    We didn¡¯t expect much more than evacuation of a handful of our youngest when we saw who had actually responded to our call. I personally believed that they wouldn¡¯t even arrive after seeing the situation. Why would they? They had no stake in our lives, they had no real bond with us? Why would they dive into a hopeless situation?


    How wrong was I.


    Please keep in mind dear reader that I write the next sentence as someone who owes their life to Terrans, that I mean this statement with the greatest of respect.


    Terrans are insane.


    Everything they did, they did with reckless abandon. During my efforts to stall for time, I saw the Terrans doing the most insane actions. I saw a doctor literally crack open the chest of an adult Ritilian and start operating as gunfire erupted over their heads. I held on for dear life as one drove our vehicle at high speed through enemy lines in order to get to where we were needed. I watched as they took the simplest of supplies and turned them into instruments of death and destruction.


    Somehow it worked, somehow the hours turned to days.


    They were everywhere, even though they only numbered 250 they seemed to just appear where they were needed, as if the trickster god Lutashi had summoned them into being. I know many of us at times believed that somehow the Terrans had brought a far larger force than they actually had.


    But the real insanity was their stubbornness. They refused to even entertain leaving us, and seemed to take offence at the idea of evacuating with as many eggs and hatchlings as they could carry. Each terrible milestone they reached they passed with almost an increased motivation. Surely once we lost power to the colony and the negative temperatures of Cuca kicked in they would leave? Once their casualties hit 10% a logical being would cut their losses? When the first of their spacecraft were destroyed, bathing the night time sky in its terrible glow, they would realise the insanity of staying around for people they had no connection to.


    Yet in their insanity, they stayed.


    If anything as the days and losses ticked on, it seemed to motivate them further. Terrans never stopped. One could state that the mammalian advantage and Terrans natural inclination to persistence gave them an advantage here, but I could see that they were just as tired as we were: They just carried on through sheer power of will. As the days ticked on they continued to stall, continued to defend, continued to risk themselves for colony members they had never met before, fighting as if they were lifelong friends.


    I heard stories. A group of 5 Terrans who held onto a hatchery for three days as if it were their own offspring. The sky lighting up with a terrible explosion as they rammed a Tritian warship with their own spacefaring vehicle. A Terran beating an android to scrap using nothing more than a cooking implement. Frankly, based on my experiences, these stories were probably less insane then the real thing.


    I remember the feeling of unclawed hands grabbing me, ripping me from the wreckage of the building. I remember being dragged to safety as chaos rained around us. I remember seeing the Terran who had pulled me back from death''s door, covered in grime and his own blood; the complete lack of hesitation as he ran back into the fray to help others.


    I never did get to thank him.


    7 days eventually passed. But each day had paid its price - the colony would take another year to rebuild and the estimated casualties amongst the colonists were around 20%. But it was nothing compared with what the Terrans had given up. By the time the Ritilian fleet arrived in orbit, just 44 Terrans remained with one half broken ship. The Terrans in their insanity paid a very high price for the twenty thousand lives on Cuca.


    We asked them what they wanted in return? Riches? Resources? Man power? A few of the colonists even suggested that the Terrans should be allowed to settle Cuca, like their original plan had been. Frankly with the debt we owed them we probably would have given them the planet if they¡¯d asked for it. Instead their response was always the same when asked what they wanted.


    ¡°Doctors without borders could always use new donations¡±.

 Everyone is Weird

    Date: 28 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    ¡°That still freaks me out, it¡¯s weird¡±


    The Ritilian placed the crate she was carrying on the floor, standing over the Terran in front of her. Tauress stood at almost 4 ft tall, covered from head to toe in a pattern of green and blue iridescent scales natural to her species. The reptilian had a slightly concerned look covering her short stubby snout.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Joseph was crouched over the container he was securing to the floor, the Terran tightening the bolts with his hand to ensure it wouldn¡¯t shift around the cargo bay during transit. Just one of tens of the crates that filled the giant bay they were working in.


    ¡°Your hand, the way it shifts around like that.¡±


    Joseph stopped for a moment, giving a grin as he raised his left arm to be better viewed by the unfortunate Ritilian. Joseph looked like a perfectly normal human, with the exception of the appendage he was now currently holding up for inspection. The hand was clearly not organic as at the moment the first two fingers had been replaced with a series of interlocking black metallic pieces, ending in a 10mm socket that was currently being used to secure the cargo.


    ¡°You mean like this?¡±


    The hand started to shift around, pieces moving in synchronised fashion with a series of almost inaudible clicks, until after a mere second the tool disappeared to be replaced with two fingers that looked, almost natural.


    ¡°Yes! Don¡¯t do that! Makes me want to throw up!¡±


    ¡°Query: Isn¡¯t that just a standard cybernetic replacement?¡±


    The last member of the trio in charge of getting the cargo bay ready for launch spoke up, ¡®standing¡¯ behind a control panel and operating the various pieces of machinery that were sorting the cargo to be secured by the other two. Standing was probably the wrong word, because ¡°Bob¡± was a Scythen.


    A mass of multi coloured tentacles in a rough 2ft diameter were secured to a small hovering disk, bringing the alien up to around 3ft in height. The voice was robotic, replacing the Scythen¡¯s natural form of communicating through changing colour, providing something more understandable by most of the galaxy''s inhabitants.


    ¡°It¡¯s still weird.¡± Tauress stated, looking at the cybernetic appendage, subconsciously rubbing her own clawed hand. ¡°The idea of having a machine replacing your flesh... makes my scales squirm¡±.


    ¡°I could have had it regrown buuuut¡± There was a moment as another series of clicks emanated from Joseph¡¯s hand, ending with a thin stream of blue fire shooting from what was now a functional plasma cutter. ¡°Biological hands can¡¯t do this!¡±


    ¡°Worried statement: Knowing friend Joseph¡¯s proclivities, this is not an improvement for everyone else.¡±


    ¡°I would never use my powers for evil, you injure my honour Bob!¡± Joseph gave an exaggerated swoon of insulted feelings, voice filled with sarcasm before turning back to look at Tauress . ¡°Besides, I guess cybernetics aren¡¯t really a thing when you can just regrow limbs.¡±


    There was a moment as the trio all stopped for a moment, considering how the Ritilian biology would have affected their technology, before it was Tauress¡¯s turn to give a large grin at the Terran; showing off a jaw filled with small pointy white teeth.


    ¡°It can come in handy, remember your first day.¡±


    Joseph stopped smiling and gave a glare back, securing the next crate as he looked across to his friend.


    ¡°I remember that you¡¯re a dick.¡±


    ¡°Interested Query: I¡¯ve not heard this story before, what transpired?¡±


    The clicking sound that was the Ritilian''s laugh sounded out.


    ¡°Well on his first day in the break room the ever graceful Mr Joseph stepped on my tail, causing it to break off as it does. I remember turning around annoyed because it messes up my balance for a few days as it grows back and seeing this strange bipedal primate just looking completely shocked.¡±


    ¡°Prediction: So friend Tauress explained to friend Joseph that this was an evolutionary quirk to ward against a now extinct predator and everything would be fine?¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°Not quite¡­¡±


    It was now the turn of the Terran to interject, shouting out in indignation.


    ¡°The asshole turned around and screamed ¡®Oh no my tail, what have you done to my tail!¡¯¡±


    Bob flashed alternating red and green, indicating enjoyment as the clicking laughter from Tauress grew louder.


    ¡°Betch ya remember to look where you¡¯re putting your feet now? You should have seen the look on your face, it was like watching a hatchling dumped out of the egg for the first time.¡±


    ¡°Statement: I can see the humour in that. How long did this state remain?¡±


    ¡°She told me the truth after ten minutes. Longest ten minutes of my life.¡± At this point even Joseph was smiling, clicking the last crate into place before starting to affix the entire storage platform to the wall. ¡°While in retrospect I can see that it was funny, at the time I was flat out having a panic attack. Three hours into my new life, I thought I¡¯d crippled someone. 6 months of being told repeatedly by my government ¡®Don¡¯t create a diplomatic incident¡¯ and I rip someone¡¯s tail off day one!¡±


    ¡°Funny, ¡®diplomatic incident¡¯ was the phrase the captain used to describe my actions, when they reamed me out for the ¡®misunderstanding¡¯¡±


    The trio slowly quietened down for a moment, the sounds of laughing giving way to the background noise of the three continuing their work. Eventually the Terran perked up once again.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to ask: If this happens all the time, what do you even do with the tail afterwards?¡±


    ¡°Oh normally you just eat it.¡±


    The Ritilian made the statement so casually, yet work came to a screeching halt as the other two stared incredulously at Tauress.


    ¡°Confused statement: For entities that eat solid matter that¡¯s not normal right.¡±


    ¡°Not normal! Now THAT is weird.¡± The green sickly look on Joseph¡¯s face as he made that statement, said more than a million words ever could.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see the issue? It¡¯s high in nutrients and would be wasted otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Still not normal! When I lost my hand at no point did I think about rummaging around the farm equipment to grab some dinner! Remind me not to invite you to a potluck in case you bring a ¡®special ingredient¡¯¡±


    Tauress gave a small smirking grin, turning once again to the Terran.


    ¡°As much as I like your friendship Joseph, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re ready for marriage.¡±


    Bob turned a deep blue, indicating confusion.


    ¡°Confused statement: Friend Tauress, please clarify.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s no longer common, but traditionally to provide your tail as a meal to another is a marriage proposal. The idea being that not only are you giving up a vital food store as a method of trust, but also quite literally giving up part of yourself to your partner, to become one.¡±


    The Terran shook his head in disbelief.


    ¡°That¡¯s weirdly a sweet idea. Romantic cannibalism, who would have thought it?¡±


    The conversation quietened down as the three slowly finished up their work, the final touches before the ship could take off being completed.


    ¡°Statement: Bones are weird.¡±


    This time both Joseph and Tauress turned to look at their Scythen friend with confusion, both uttering the word at the same time


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Clarifying statement: I assumed we were all stating what we found weird about the others. So, bones are weird.¡±


    The Ritilian shook her head, the look of confusion still evident on their face.


    ¡°No, I got nothing, what?¡±


    ¡°Clarifying statement: The idea of having something inside you that stops movement, trapping you in place, is weird. I don¡¯t know how it doesn¡¯t drive you all crazy that you¡¯re filled with bones.¡±


    The Scythen started wiggling their tentacles as if to highlight the range of movement their boneless limbs provided, flashing various colours and patterns before being interrupted by the Terran in a lightly mocking manner.


    ¡°You of all people don¡¯t get to call things weird. Have you seen anything that looks like the Scythen? You¡¯re like a sentient puffer ball. Not having bones is the weird thing.¡±


    ¡°Query: Puffer ball?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a toy for kids, give me a moment.¡± Joseph responded.


    The Terran reached down, pulling out a handheld Galnet connector, tapping a few buttons before a picture of the silicone toy appeared for the others to see.


    ¡°Disagreeing statement: I don¡¯t see the resemblance.¡±


    The clicking laughter sounded out again as Tauress peered at the image.


    ¡°It¡¯s like looking at your twin Bob. Scythen evolutionary origins have been solved!¡±


    Joseph however had gone silent, spending the time furiously tapping the Galnet device, looking at the screen as his face turned into a huge smile.


    ¡°Guys, it turns out for thirty credits I can get the ship''s fabricator to make a 2ft wide puffer ball and get it delivered to your room in a week. I will call you Bob junior, and you will be glorious.¡±


    Tauress and Bob shared a look in response to this statement, or at least as much as you can share a look with a mass of tentacles lacking eyes.


    ¡°That has to be a record.¡±


    ¡°Agreeing statement: Friend Joseph seems to have named and bonded with an inanimate object before said object has even been created¡±


    The Terran rolled his eyes in an exaggerated movement.


    ¡°You¡¯re just jealous of the magnificence that will be Bob Junior. Maybe I¡¯ll even give him a knife, then you¡¯ll be sorry for underestimating your new god!¡±


    All three started laughing, or at least their equivalences of laughing; partly due to the absurdity of the statement, partly because each of them knew that Joseph was no longer allowed to give inanimate objects knives. On direct order of the captain after the last incident.


    The trio finished up their work, completing the long four hour shift and getting the bay ready for the ship next haulage job; the three friends making their way to the recreational facilities for some well deserved rest. But not before Joseph had one last thing to say.


    ¡°You know what is really strange. Each of us have perfectly acceptable home planets tailored to our culture and physiology, but instead we''ve taken the risk of diving into the unknown. Into misunderstandings and different cultures, into possible danger and injury. Not knowing exactly what we¡¯ll find, but going anyway to see what¡¯s there. Everyone here is weird in that way.¡±


    That was a statement they all could agree with.

 Collateral damage: Part 1

    Amander Blake awoke slowly, the general ache of her body being the first thing she felt. Instinctively she tried to take a breath, finding nothing but a sweet tasting gel filling her lungs. Panic coursed through her slowly awakening mind as confusion took hold, the unnatural feeling of breathing in the thick blue liquid driving her hands to the sky, breaching the surface of the gel in a single frantic motion. Fingers scrambled for purchase, finding nothing but empty space as with one violent movement Amander sat up: Spraying Medigel across the floor, coughing up handfuls of the nanobot infused gel and taking a first breath of actual fresh air.


    She desperately looked around with confusion, at the spaceship she found herself in. A small craft that had definitely seen better days: half the consoles and display panels blank and powerless, many walls clearly having been rapidly patched together recently with quick fixes. Even now the sound of welding and the operation of tools sounded out from the various rooms that made up the space, various small drones doing their job to repair the damage of the attack.


    ¡°Her Ship. This was her ship. Her ship was¡­ under attack?¡±


    Yes, that was right. Amander could feel the post-stasis confusion starting to wear off, the numbing effects of the Medigel dissipating as the material quickly dried and started to flaking off on contact with air. There had been a Estorian Empire war cruiser out in the middle of nowhere and... the assholes had fired upon her little three person exploration vessel: ¡°A Shining Star¡±.


    Which both did and didn¡¯t explain why Amander was currently sitting in a half opened medical stasis chamber.


    ¡°Sleeping beauty awakens. Welcome back to the land of the living.¡±


    The artificial voice of DRAKE, the ship¡¯s AI sounded out from an unknown source. A voice that sounded forced, the positive humoured greeting overlaying a more sombre tone. The AI would agree with the assessment that their current situation left little to be actually happy about.


    A rasping sputtering sound erupted from Amander as she attempted to speak for the first time in weeks, grasping at the glass of water already being offered by one of the AI controlled drones and downing it in one go. Eventually being able to stammer out two words in a thick southern accent.


    ¡°St- Status report.¡±


    ¡°¡®A Shining Star¡¯ was completing survey contract X55-66A-5B when it encountered a Estorian Empire war cruiser unexpectedly. The unidentified vessel fired upon ¡®A Shining Star¡¯ without warning or provocation, disabling several key components.


    Upon attempting a repair of said components a second volley caused critical damage and injured one Amander Blake. Injuries included, amongst other things: 47 broken bones, a ruptured kidney, a deflated lung and a ventricular rupture. Death was prevented through the use of a medical status device. ¡®A Shining Star¡¯ has spent the last three weeks making repairs and getting ready for the assumed upcoming task.¡±


    This made sense based on the memories quickly returning to her un-numbing mind. She remembered the initial attack, attempting to fix the damage, then a whole chicken coops worth of pain.


    But there was something suspiciously missing from that summary.


    "Where''s Fluur?"


    Amander had been part of a rescue operation on a failed Zorthian colony, a little over two years ago. The Salamander looking amphibians had chosen an unstable planet as their first foray into the galaxy, causing them to require an emergency evacuation. Among them had been a brave little Zorthian called Fluur who had been manning the communication relays down to the last minutes, helping organise the impromptu Terran alliance rescue effort.


    So with Amander''s contract as captain of the trading vessel "Texas forever" coming to an end and desperate for something new, she''d brought the small craft she was now on, and offered the plucky fishboy a job.


    The Galaxy was a large place, most of it still unexplored. There always was some cash to be made for diving into the unknown, and that had been their life for the last two years.


    "Drake, I ain''t playin with you. Where''s Fluur?"


    Amander broke the silence again, eventually causing the AI to respond.


    "I can not be certain, as critical systems were offline at the time, but the most likely outcome is: members of the Estorian Empire warship took the Zorthian known as Fluur with them."


    This caused Amander to jump up with a start, a shocked fearful look in her eyes as she stumbled around, attempting to gain her footing after three weeks of not moving.


    "Why the hell did you let me lie around doing nothin for three weeks while those bastards have Fluur!"


    The Estorian Empire was a grouping of 21 different species: 5 ''higher'', 16 subjugated. They were, for the lack of a better term, the assholes of the galaxy. An intrinsic belief that the higher races were the true inheritors of the universe permeated their thinking, causing them to consider anyone not in that group to be nothing more than resources to be extracted and used for their power and pleasure.


    Slavery and torture were common amongst the whole empire, any depravity acceptable if you were part of the right breed. The Terran alliance had a ''you don''t touch our stuff, we won''t touch yours'' agreement with the Estorian''s, but in reality both sides did plenty of touching due to their inherent ideological incompatibility.


    Needless to say, the fact that someone she considered a friend has spent the last three weeks under their ''care'' did not go down well with Amander.


    "I calculated that due to the significant injury sustained by Amander Blake, the chances of success before this time were unacceptable. In addition we have not been doing ¡®nothing¡¯. I have been following the Estorian vessels and getting your equipment ready, as I calculated a 98.4% statistical chance that your first course of action would be to rescue Fluur. "


    ¡°You know what they¡¯re like!¡± Amander countered, slowly getting back to her full height as her legs finally stabilised under her. ¡±Spendin three weeks under em¡­ you should have-¡±


    ¡°Done what? Awoken you too early and let you recklessly charge into a 9.49% chance of success?¡± The AI interrupted harshly, in a digital tone of voice that suggested it wasn¡¯t taking any disagreement on the matter ¡°Fluur has become someone I care about as well, and I know you and your mostly likely outcomes would not have been conducive to ensuring his safety. We are on an intercept course with the Estonian ship in five hours, enough time for proper post-medical stasis care. So be quiet and focus on getting ready.¡±


    ¡ª---------------


    The five hours had been hell. Partly because waking up from medical stasis was never fun, partly because everything that wasn¡¯t absolutely required for the functioning of the ship had been melted down to feed the on board replicator: meaning there was absolutely nothing on board to distract her. Mostly it was because every minute that passed was another minute that Fluur was in the hands of the sadistic bastards.


    If he was even still alive.


    Amander instinctively rechecked her equipment again for the hundredth time. Enough grenades and flashbangs to put on an amazing 4th of July. One standard combat knife, strapped to her left leg. One AI transfer core. One Remington pump action shotgun strapped to her back, useful if you didn¡¯t want to punch a hole in the side of your spacecraft. Then one final item, the only item that hadn¡¯t needed to be replicated: A Desert Eagle, scratched and battered from hundreds of years of use, once a gift and now her personal weapon of choice. With the various upgrades and refits done to the weapon it could probably kill a mountain if you needed it to.


    All of this was strapped to the spacesuit she was now wearing, providing much needed protection from what Amander was about to do.


    "I have set the final course interception parameters, not that the target vessel was doing anything other than seemingly joyriding randomly around. ETA 10 minutes."


    There was a pause in Drake''s voice as Amander made her way to the ship''s airlock, finally ready to do something.


    "It should be noted that I will be unable to aid you until I am integrated with the target vessel. This also means that if you miss the jump, the chance of rescue is 0.00521%. I have set a timer on your HUD for the calculated best time to jump.¡±


    ¡°You''re gonna teach me how to suck eggs as well?¡±. The cordial voice of Amander had a slight tinge of being insulted. ¡°Maybe I should explain to ya what two plus two equals?¡±


    ¡°It has been a while Amander Blake. Although I would be fine traversing the void of space, it would be not optimal to lose such a¡­ slightly above average Terran¡±.


    ¡°ABOVE AVERAGE! SLIGHTLY ABOVE AVERAGE!¡± The indignant rage set a fire in Amander¡¯s eye as she shouted at her unseen insulter. ¡°I will shove my slightly above average foot up your electronic arse young man! I¡¯ll-¡±


    She was cut off as the AI transfer core in her hands started to beep and whirr as the AI transferred itself to the portable device, meaning DRAKE could no longer hear all the imaginative things Amander wanted to do to her sassy long time friend. Meaning all she could really do was inwardly seeth. Meaning for the first time in a while, she was completely alone on the ship.


    ¡ª--------------------------


    Everything went dark and silent as the power to the ship cut out, giving the Terran a sign that go time was quickly approaching. All systems were shut off, effectively making the ship near impossible to spot conventionally. Unless someone actively looked out the windows then the ship would seem like nothing more than a random piece of space junk. Of course, travelling like this was highly dangerous, since disabling your debris shields was a good way to have a random piece of rock punch a hole through your vessel. Out here in the nothingness of space that was unlikely however.


    Unlikely didn¡¯t mean never


    Amander opened the airlock, the gears and thick doors silent in the vacuum. Her target was visible now and rapidly approaching, the timer on her HUD slowly ticking down. The Estorian vessel looked more like someone had ripped a castle out of the ground than something spacefaring. Spires of material made to look like marble and glass expanded from a central oblong base. The entire thing screamed of entitlement and pompous energy. Even the fake flags on the ends of various structures were set to mechanically ¡°wave in the wind¡±.


    Minutes turned to seconds as the vessel started to fill Amander¡¯s view, dwarfing the small craft that she owned.


    20 seconds


    She moved to the back of the airlock, bouncing up and down and giving a small stretch as the timer on her HUD rapidly decreased.


    10 seconds


    One last quick check to make sure everything looked in order.


    5 Seconds


    Amander took a last deep breath, steadying her nerves.


    3 seconds


    Before starting to run, gaining speed in the small area of the airlock before


    0 seconds


    Taking a leap into the void of space.


    ¡ª----------


    Silence. Even the small amounts of energy her space suit was expending in order to slightly adjust her trajectory made no noise in the vacuum of space. The sight of the Estorian warship filling her view ahead of Amander, the nothingness of space behind was an impressive sight to behold, even after having done such manoeuvres so many times before. Well, at least for the first five minutes it was impressive.


    Space is huge. Incomprehensibly huge. So when ¡°Two spaceships are near each other'''' that''s still a distance measured in miles. Even moving quickly through the vacuum of space unhindered by air resistance or anything to stop her, Amander quickly found boredom to be the biggest issue. Nothing left to do but wait and let her thoughts wander as her target grew closer and closer.


    Boredom leads to annoyance. Annoyance that yet again this was what she was doing. She was supposed to be done with this, done with fighting, done with doing crazy shit. After the Hatil war, if the absolute thrashing the adorable teddy bears got could be called a war, she wanted to do nothing more than just explore. No more insurrections, no more colony spats, no more fighting.


    So the fact that a bunch of assholes had attacked her and captured her friend¡­ well that really annoyed her.


    Amander slammed into the side of the Estorian ship, the magnetic boots and gloves of her spacesuit keeping her stable against the metallic panelling as she looked for her goal. Slowly shimmying across step by step until she spotted an access panel. Quickly Amander slipped the knife in between the gap, popping off the cover and granting access to the wires underneath. It took less than five minutes of stripping and rewiring before the AI Transfer Core in her hands was securely connected, whirring away as DRAKE booted back online.


    ¡°Greetings to whoever discovered me. I am DRAKE and- oh it seems Amander Blake was successful in her traversal.¡±


    ¡°Hardy Har Har. You hush your mouth and don¡¯t act surprised!¡±. Even through the helmet the eye roll from Amander was visible as she responded to the AI¡¯s voice now speaking directly into her ears. ¡°Where¡¯s my entry?¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°Twenty metres to your left, vent system, opening now.¡±


    Almost on cue a small opening made itself known to Amander¡¯s left, the work of the AI infiltrating the ship¡¯s systems letting the Terran slip inside unnoticed. After that it was a simple case of waiting for Drake to re-pressurize the venting system she found herself in, then travelling along the path and dropping into the ship proper.


    Right on top of a surprised Estorian


    The Raha were one of the ¡®higher¡¯ races: Bipedal insects standing at around 7ft tall, covered from head to toe in a milky grey exoskeleton. Four deep red eyes were inset into the face, countering a set of vicious mandibles erupting from the ¡®jaw¡¯, the overall look ending with a pair of spiky antennae atop the head.


    This one was dressed in the multiple loops of fabric common for their species. The purple and gold colours of the Raha¡¯s royal house adorning him, as well the gun gripped between three fingered hands showed the insect to be part of the Royal guard. His antennae were twitching in shock as one moment he¡¯d been walking through the royal barge¡¯s many corridors, and the next a Terran had literally dropped out of the sky in front of him.


    There was a brief moment, a fraction of a second as both of them stared at each other before Amander reacted, closing the distance in an instant and not giving the surprised Raha a moment to raise his own weapon. The single strike of the knife was devastating, driving deep into one of its eye sockets, the insect giving a single twitch of its mandibles before collapsing into a lifeless heap.


    ¡°You coulda given me some warnin?¡± Amander hissed, wiping the grey liquid off her blade as she walked.


    ¡°As much as I might give such an impression, I am not omnipotent. I was busy overriding the ship¡¯s systems so you will not appear for anyone monitoring security. Also, one combatant and one non combatant to your left.¡±


    The door to the small monitoring station opened, the Raha who had been working at a terminal barely being given a chance to notice the door opening before Amander had wrapped her arms around its head; the Terran giving a vigorous twist that came with a sickening cracking and popping sound, leaving nothing but the other occupant of the room cowering on the floor.


    It was mammalian, a mound of brown fur and two giant black eyes. The fact it was in the middle of cleaning the floor, the visible injuries adorning its body and the thick iron collar tightly affixed to its neck showed the creature wasn¡¯t part of the ruling class. It did nothing but quiver in a pile as the Terran lifted a single finger to her helmeted ¡®mouth¡¯, backing out silently and leaving the slave alone.


    ¡°So I calculate that you are not taking prisoners then? One combatant to your right, facing away from you.¡±


    ¡°We both know what these bastards do, what the best case scenario for Fluur is.¡± Amander drove the blade into the base of the Raha¡¯s neck, killing them before they knew what had even happened. ¡°Let''s skip the part where we pretend to be shocked¡±.


    ¡°Positive information gained from the ship''s computers: Fluur is alive. Status is uncertain, but he¡¯s on the vessel, follow the directions on your HUD. Negative information: This is the personal royal barge for prince Hakthas. Two coming up to your left at the intersection.¡±


    The Terran waited, pressed against the corner until the footsteps grew louder; striking with a single spinning blow, plunging the blade deep into the chest of the closest Raha, forcing the other to the ground simultaneously with an accurate strike to the kneecap. Amander pulled the knife out with a twisting motion before focusing on the remaining kneeling guard, slamming its head repeatedly into the wall before jamming the knife deep into its neck.


    ¡°So? I don¡¯t care if this ship is owned by god himself.¡±


    ¡°Because I know your standard operating parameters and you know the importance of that information. Non combatant to your right.¡± DRAKE¡¯s voice was filled with warning, almost worried.


    ¡°They started it.¡± Amander glared through the helmet and pointed the bloody knife at the small pink lizard sporting yet another iron collar, who immediately shrunk back into the room it had come from, whimpering as the door shut behind it.


    ¡°It would be optimal not to be known for starting a war. Five hostiles ahead. One external wall opposite your entrance.¡±


    Amander pulled the Desert Eagle out of its holster as the door in front of her opened smoothly, revealing the mess hall inside. A handful of Raha sat around various tables, eating and talking, no clue about the intrusion that was currently happening. They all instantly stopped what they were doing as an unknown Terran entered the room, weapon in hand and covered in Raha blood.


    She didn¡¯t give them any time to react, taking a vague aim with the hand cannon and firing a single shot: The bullet whipping past the inhabitants of the room, and continuing straight through the external wall the AI had informed her about.


    Most species initially develop kinetic weapons, but tend to find the same issue once they go to space: Firing pieces of metal at each other in a pressurised container causes problems. Most species deal with these problems by moving to forms of weaponry that won¡¯t blow holes in your spacecraft, energy based weaponry normally.


    ¡°Just wear a spacesuit dumbass¡± was the Terran solution.


    The magnetic boots on Amander''s spacesuit kept her on the ground, the reinforcements along the back locking in place as the wall imploded in an instant as the atmosphere of the room went from 1 to 0 over milliseconds.


    The suit she was wearing kept her rooted in place, but the rest of the room''s occupants weren¡¯t as lucky, as everything and everyone that wasn¡¯t nailed to the floor suddenly found themselves being flung outside the ship. 1.2 seconds later an emergency blast shield slid down in one smooth movement, allowing the room to be gradually re-pressurized; alarms and alerts starting to blare in the background.


    ¡°I believe the Estorians know that you are here now.¡±


    ¡ª-----------------


    The Raha royal guard were in disarray. Every sensor and piece of security apparatus on board was telling them that everything is fine, even though something was clearly attacking them. Sound of gunfire and shouting echoing through the halls as communication as well as the cohesion broke down.


    Amander and DRAKE were a whirlwind of death, an unstoppable force meeting the very movable object which was the Raha royal guard. In between DRAKE quite literally being all seeing, and the raw ferocity of Amander they were practically strolling through the ship towards their goal.


    Three shots, one for each skull of the Raha who had turned the corner into the awaiting gunfire of the Terran, who only spared a moment to double check before moving on.


    ¡°One Combatant, to your right.¡±


    She didn¡¯t even slow down, sending a shotgun blast down the length of the corridor, the cry of pain and buckshot meaning Amander didn¡¯t even have to look to know that was a kill.


    ¡°7 Combatants, holed up in the room ahead.¡±


    The Terran unclipped a pair of grenades, followed by a pair of flashbangs, tossing them through the door one pair after the other, the sound of explosion and goans of agony following, waiting before Amander breached the doorway herself. Three shotgun blasts rang out as she checked for anything still moving, before leaving and continuing again towards her goal.


    ¡°1 Combatant, 5 non combatants being used as a shield, in the room to your left. Calculated shot marked on HUD''''


    Amander could hear the muffled sounds of shouting and crying from the other side of the wall, not loud enough for her translator to work, but loud enough for the concept of someone shouting at a group of people to come through. She aimed the hand cannon, lining up the shot DRAKE had provided, before pulling the trigger, sending the bullet through the wall.


    The sound of a body hitting the floor and more frantic noises emanating from behind the wall told the Terran everything she needed to know, continuing onwards towards her prize, pausing only to deal with a few more unlucky Raha in her path. Eventually Amander burst through the final door: Where DRAKE had found Fluur.


    The room was dark, the only light emitting from the hallway she¡¯d come in from, casting harsh shadows of the scene around her. Tens of cages lined the walls, from within them various figures moved and reacted to Amander¡¯s entrance as she made her way deeper in the room.


    Wails and shouts sounded out from the figures, various alien species: some she knew, some she didn¡¯t. Her translator picked up various pleas for help, for mercy, each temporarily ignored as the Terran continued looking for her target, walking through the filth that covered every surface.


    ¡°Amander?¡±


    The voice was frail and faint, but still recognizably the voice of the Zorthian called Fluur, causing the Terran to rush over to the location of the sound. It took her a moment to recognize him, cramped in a cage clearly too small, rage and hate filling her body as she looked upon her friend. She had expected to see this, she had almost expected far worse, but expecting and seeing it were two different things.


    ¡°I¡­. I thought you were dead. I didn¡¯t think you could¡­ I thought I¡¯d be stuck here. I-¡±


    Amander broke the lock of the cage with a simple twist of her knife, releasing Fluur and interrupting the Zorthian as she knelt down, holding him tight with a deep embrace.


    ¡°Hush now¡­ I¡¯m here now pumpkin. It¡¯s gonna be fine.¡±


    Being this close she could see the extent of the damage. Normally translucent blue skin had become hard and dried up due to a lack of access to water. Cuts and bruises adorned his body, purposeful removal of skin was evident in places and his left leg looked broken at an unnatural angle. Chunks had been cut out of the deep red fins adorning his head and limbs, with the fin from his right forearm having been completely torn off.


    It took all of Amander¡¯s self control to not rush straight out of that room and find whatever bastard had done this and do terrible things to them. Instead she chose to just hold the shivering amphibian, murmuring whispering statements of comfort and encouragement. Fluur needed this more than anything else she could do: For her she¡¯d last seen her friend a mere 6 hours ago, for him it had been three weeks of hell.


    ¡°I apologise for the interruption, but three combatants are approaching.¡±


    The sound of DRAKE caused Amander to get up, sparking a panic in her injured friend as he desperately tried to hold onto her.


    ¡°No! Don¡¯t go! You can¡¯t leave!¡±


    The look of pure panic on Fluur¡¯s face broke her heart, causing her to slowly kneel back down to the ground, twisting her helmet off with one smooth movement and handing it to the Zorthian.


    ¡°I ain¡¯t leaving sweetheart, I just gotta get to finishing this off, then we¡¯re leavin. Drake¡¯s with me as well, so I¡¯ll leave you both together, while I go finish blowin up a storm.¡±


    ¡ª-----------------


    For the first time in his very entitled life, prince Hakthas was worried. Being fourth in line to the throne of the royal house of the Raha meant all of the privilege and respect that came with such a position, with none of the actual responsibility. So Hakthas had done as his species does when given such power: Abused it for his own enjoyment. This however, he was not enjoying.


    The sound of gunfire and fighting was getting closer, as he desperately tried to contact the royal treasurer. The ship''s communications weren¡¯t working, probably because of the Terran, meaning he was using his own personal backup connection.


    ¡°Prince Hakthas? What a pleasant and-¡±


    ¡°Shut it with the formalities.¡± Hakthas interrupted the snivelling attempt at pleasantry. ¡±Stay silent and get ready to-¡±


    A priceless piece of artwork exploded as a bullet blew through the wall and embedded itself 2ft to the left of the Raha, causing him to flinch in his own personal chambers. It was a chamber of decadence and comfort, so the feeling of being afraid and alone here was not one he enjoyed. He was alone obviously, his plan would only work if he was alone. So he¡¯d sent the subjugates away and any of his personal guards would be outside trying, and presumably failing, to stop the Terran.


    The Terran who had just burst through the door, covered in blood and a look of death in her eyes.


    ¡°Welcome! I, Prince Hakthas fourth in line to the Raha royal house, greet you, in an unarmed state.¡±


    ¡°Unarmed?¡±. Terran raised her gun, pointing it directly at the face of Hakthas, the prince requiring every fibre of his being to not flinch at such a move. ¡°Well this makes the next part easier, so thanks!¡±


    ¡°Ah, let''s not be too hasty and uncivilised. Lest our two empire¡¯s relations become¡­ strained.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t nobody gonna know.¡± Amander was staring the prince down, almost smirking at the thought of hurting the one who had hurt Fluur, speaking through gritted teeth. ¡°I¡¯m gonna get my pound of flesh, nice and slow.¡±


    ¡°That unfortunately isn¡¯t the case.¡± Hakthas turned the Galnet communicator he was using to show the enraged Terran, to show the currently ongoing call. ¡°I was just discussing an equitable payment for our accidental misstep, not that an honourable Terran such as yourself would think of breaching our governments agreements.¡±


    ¡°BREACHING OUR AGREEMENTS?!¡± Hakthas was worried he¡¯d said the wrong thing as a Terran screamed at him, knowing exactly how thin of a tightrope he was balancing this conversation on. ¡°Y¡¯all were the ones who attacked my ship, nearly killed me, then captured and tortured my friend! I reckon that breaches any agreement!¡±


    ¡°Yes it was very unfortunate, I do apologise for the misunderstanding.¡± Hakthas placed his hand over his antenna, feigning sincere apology. ¡°Your ship wasn¡¯t broadcasting standard Terran Alliance headers, and only your friend was on board when we checked. Terrans collect so many species it¡¯s hard to keep track, and the Zorthians are very rarely seen outside of their planet, so we had no way to know you were part of the Terran Alliance.¡±


    The prince continued speaking as he again referred back to the communicator he held in his hand, every moment tracked by the rage filled Terran¡¯s weapon.


    ¡°I of course take full responsibility for such a mistake, and propose a payment of 5 million Terran Dollars, for the damage to your ship and yourselves. As well as absolving you for the murder of 43 members of my personal guard. That sounds far more preferable to a war?¡±


    ¡°What if I don¡¯t want your money?¡±


    Contrary to the words being spoken, Hakthas could see his plan was working, the true repercussions of killing a member of the Raha royal family starting to sink in; the anger of the Terran starting to dissipate with the sobering reality of the galaxy and the way it worked. For all their power Terrans seemingly avoided war where they could, with the same gusto of a weakling subjugated race.


    ¡°What would your friend want? After that dreadful colony business the Zorthians are a one planet species. Very susceptible in a time of war. Do you want to risk that?¡±


    There was a pause, the anger on Amander¡¯s face declaring that she wanted to do nothing more than pull the trigger and blow the stupid little royal bastard''s face away. Eventually she lowered the gun, glaring at the prince.


    ¡°You do that, and I also hand ya over to the Terran government.¡±


    ¡°You drive a hard bargain, but that request is beneficial to everyone.¡± Hakthas gave a small bow, smug confidence filling him again. Terrans were so easy once you realised their pack bonding was both their greatest strength, and greatest weakness. You could threaten them all day and they¡¯d laugh in your face. But you threaten their allies, and suddenly they become far more rational.


    It was this smug overconfidence that caused the prince to make the biggest mistake of his life. That unearned feeling of superiority was about to blow up across the galaxy.


    ¡°Please be a good dear and transfer the given funds to our new Terran friend. It was worth every credit, your friend provided the most fantastic fun and entertainment over the last three weeks, worth every-¡±


    BANG.


    ¡ª---------


    All bullets make a sound. Most of them are silent, bouncing off dirt or stone, harmlessly plinking a paper target or beer can. They silently disperse their payload never to be heard of again. A few give a bang, the sound ripping apart lives and communities, the voids of what was and what could be deafening to those close enough to hear, but still mostly silent.


    But sometimes, sometimes a bullet will roar, scream so loud that all of history hears it. In 1865, April the 14th at 10:15pm, a .45 calibre bullet was fired from a Derringer by a John Wilkes Booth. The sound it made roared and bounced around America, echoes still reverbing even hundreds of years later.


    In 1914, June the 28th, a 9mm bullet was fired from a FN Model 1910, straight into the neck of a Franz Ferdinand. It was a sound heard across the world, bouncing around with death and hate, millions of other explosions and noises originating from that single gunshot.


    And on 71 NST (New Post-stasis Time), on the 5th of July, a single .50 calibre bullet was fired from a heavily modified desert eagle, straight into the chest of a prince Hakthas.


    It was a sound heard across the galaxy.


    ¡ª--------------


    Jan Eagles wasn¡¯t an unhappy man per say. The position he found himself in, as head of Terran-Xeno relations, was the end result of hundreds of years of hard work; of peace treaties, negotiations, rationally speaking in rooms of irrational humans. Tired was the best way to describe him. Every time a Terran broke an alien law, or some alien broke a Terran law, he and his team had to get involved. Every time someone died somewhere they shouldn¡¯t have, he and his team had to get involved. This was without counting the normal diplomatic efforts of alliances and trade agreements.


    It didn¡¯t help that Terrans seemingly lost all rationality once they hit space. In the last 24 hours he had to oversee 12 death arrangements, a group of Terrans trying to smuggle Capsin into the Pt¡¯chal home world, and a Scrivit tourist being kidnapped because, quote: ¡°But holy shit it¡¯s so cute, it¡¯s like an extra fluffy hamster I love it!¡±.


    Of course, this was without the stupidity of the galaxy at large. It was generally considered bad form to insult other cultures, but every other species gave Terrans a run for their money in terms of stupidity. Whether it was a human smuggling ring by the Lithoirians, The Ritilian reality TV crew behind ''Crazy Terrans'' secretly filming Terrans without their permission, or the Turrilians arresting two Terrans for ¡°Smuggling Adrenaline¡±.


    That last one had been fun, with constant reminders that having every Terran who enters your space get surgery to remove their adrenal glands, is not a ¡®Reasonable compromise¡¯.


    So when Jan saw the gold inlaid red envelope on his desk, he outwardly gave a groan. Only the Estorians were enough of an asshole to deliver messages to other ambassadors physically. He half wondered what it was, another declaration of how great they are? Complaints that another of their next targets had joined the Terran alliance? Shudder Another invitation to join the Estorian Empire?


    It was only after reading the message, what it meant and what it could mean, that he frantically started calling people. To avoid a war.

 Collateral damage: Part 2

    This was not how Claire wanted her first real assignment to be.


    Years of hard work had led to this moment, hundreds of thousands of hours working through bureaucratic messes, colony disputes, mindless trade meeting after trade meeting. All to finally get to the holy grail of Terran diplomacy: The official Terran Xeno relations department. A chance to not only meet and explore the universe, but make it a better place.


    Claire Weber was the newest member of the team, having started a mere week ago. The first few weeks were supposed to be simple: Get to know people, acclimatise to the sterile boring space stations of the neutral federation and unpack your stuff. This meant when the message went out for anyone and everyone to help with this mess ASAP, Claire was the first and only other Terran diplomat immediately on the station at the time.


    Which is how on her first job she found herself walking next to the diplomatic legend that was Jan Eagles, speeding down the corridors in an attempt to try and stop a galactic war.


    ¡°So this is the information on prince Hakthas I was able to scrounge up.¡± Claire handed the folder that was thick with papers to her boss as she struggled to keep up the fast pace.


    ¡°In summary however, Prince Hakthas was a disliked figure, including amongst the Raha: Considered exceptionally cruel even by their standards. Being fourth in the line to the throne meant he had very little responsibilities, so instead spent his time doing nothing more than draining the Raha royal treasury and ¡®Joyriding¡¯, for lack of a better term, among uncontacted or unaligned civilizations. Being assigned to his personal retinue was generally considered a punishment given to those who couldn¡¯t be outright fired or killed¡±.


    Claire took a moment to catch her breath, watching Jan go through the information she¡¯d handed him. It wasn¡¯t up to her usual quality and quantity, due to having a mere twenty minutes of research and collation time; she desperately hoped it was good enough to not leave a bad first impression.


    ¡°However if the alleged murder of Hakthas by a Terran is true, this has some serious repercussions. The Raha has fallen out of favour compared with the other four Estorian royal houses in recent years, due to their staunch belief that starting a war with the Terran Alliance would be a losing proposition. Taking into account the context of the Terran Alliance¡¯s actions have slowed the Estorian Empires more recent advances. Having no response to such an action might let the other four houses believe that the Raha royal house no longer ¡®deserves¡¯ their place¡±.


    Jan took a moment to look up from the wealth of information he¡¯d been given, on both the alleged murder victim and the ambassador he was about to meet with.


    ¡°How long did this take you? You couldn¡¯t have had more than half an hour to prepare this amount of information?¡±


    ¡°Around twenty minutes sir.¡±


    Claire was not a great schmoozer. She couldn¡¯t instantly bond with anyone in seconds. She very distinctly disliked long complicated political plans involving backstabbing everyone, much preferring people to be straight forwards. But what Claire was good at was research.


    Claire was a mere 54 years of age, meaning while most Terrans were familiar with Xeno forms of communication, Claire had never known an empty universe: she had grown up with a galactic community and had embraced it. While most Terrans knew of and could use the various species Galnet systems, Claire had spent her entire life with them.


    She could tell you on which nodes Lithorian soldiers tended to say too much, which species social media apps were the most used by each sector of employment, and who had the best facial recognition databases. Everyone left a trail behind and knowing everything about the person on the other side of the negotiating table, made working out deals much easier. Diplomacy was simple when you knew exactly what the other person actually wanted.


    ¡°Exceptional work, and call me Jan.¡± On such short notice he hadn¡¯t expected anything other than someone able to be a second pair of eyes should the Estorian ambassador try something stupid, so this was a very welcome bonus.


    ¡°Si- Jan. I don¡¯t understand why we go to this trouble? Considering how evil the Estorians are, why don¡¯t we just-¡±


    ¡°Go to war with them?¡± Jan interrupted Claire, having answered this question any time a new member joined his team. It wasn¡¯t like the Terran Alliance hadn¡¯t used military intervention against others who had done similar actions in the past.


    ¡°There are a multitude of reasons Claire. Many of our members joined the alliance specifically for protection from the Estorian Empire. Dragging them into a war with the entity they were seeking protection from isn''t really a good move. Also, while on paper we outnumber them, this force is spread out over a lot of small entities. Setting up blockades in space isn''t possible, meaning all planets would need to be simultaneously defended. Even if we won, a Pyrrhic victory where a bunch of our allies are homeless isn''t great."


    He paused for a moment as the two entered an elevator, the thousands of copy-pasted floors of the station stretching below them as they rapidly ascended, Jan still reading the documents as he continued.


    "Then there is the necessity of such an action. The five Royal Houses of the Estorian Empire are only allied because invading each other would be more effort than it''s worth. Optimistic estimates suggest a full blown civil war in less than 10 years due to slowed expansion caused by the Terran Alliance. Don¡¯t fight a war you don¡¯t have to.¡±


    The elevator doors opened, causing the Terran to lower his voice. While none of what he was saying was a secret, turning to a whisper as approaching a meeting was an old habit he wasn¡¯t going to stop doing any time soon.


    ¡°Lastly, neither side is sure they would win. The technological level of both sides are mostly unknown to each other, and while the Terran Alliance outnumbers them, the Alliance is untested in such a potentially large operation. Rather simply: Never start a war you don¡¯t know you will win.¡±


    The seasoned diplomat took a moment to pause, giving an annoyed sigh in preparation for dealing with a pompous dick of the greatest magnitude. Jan then handed the documents back to the far more nervous Claire, giving her a reassuring smile.


    ¡°No need to panic. Like I said earlier, all you need to do is wait here. Just in case they decide to try something stupid.¡±


    ¡ª---------------------


    Jan Eagles office on the federation station was simple: a desk, various filing cabinets, a Galnet viewer, and simple seating for any visitors. The closest thing to a luxury was the small snowglobe he kept on a filing cabinet, a gift from a close friend. This was the complete opposite of Unk¡¯gar¡¯s office.


    Opulence. Decadence. Any other fancy word ending with ence. The head ambassador for the Estorian Empire, a Raha by the name of Unk¡¯gar had taken his species sense of superiority and self indulgence, and had given it life in the form of this room''s decoration.


    Giant statues of prominent Estorian leaders filled the larger than normal office. Paintings and holograms depicting their many victories over the subservients. Large chandeliers hung from the ceiling as gigantic tables and chairs adorned the place, all made out of a deep purple wood that screamed ''expensive''. Everything was lined with precious metals and gems, all bathed in a fake light that made it seem as if the evening sun was streaming through a window.


    It was in Jan¡¯s simple opinion, tacky as hell, overcompensating and screaming insecurity.


    ¡°May the sun shine upon your path. I trust you are well¡±


    The Raha was pressing both his hands together in front of him in welcome, as Jan forced a much practised smile on his face as he returned the greeting.


    ¡°And may the sun never set on yours. Unfortunately things could be better for both of us, I give my condolences for the prince.¡±


    Unk¡¯gar gave a wave of dismissal ¡°We can discuss that later.¡± The Raha chose to motion towards a seat opposite to where he was sitting, various ornate containers of a steaming liquid placed on a table in front of them as well as various small snacks adorning the table ¡°Please make yourself comfortable, I would be abandoning my sacred duties as a host to not let you refresh yourself with the bounties of the Estorian Empire.¡±


    Jan took a seat, giving a nod of fake thanks and gratitude as he took a cup of the horrid bitter liquid the Raha drank, desperately resisting the urge to give the smug ambassador opposite him a good solid punch in the throat.


    ¡°Have you given our offer any further consideration?¡± Unk¡¯gar said ¡°The joining of our mighty empires would be a force to rival the heavens.¡±


    Jan had given the offer some consideration, generally followed by either laughter or a general revulsion to the concept. The idea of getting into bed with slavers was half hilarious, half stomach turning.


    ¡°The current goals of the Terran Alliance do not align with actions of the Estorian Empire. Until that changes I don¡¯t see any reason to revisit the offer.¡±


    ¡°How unfortunate.¡± The Raha placed a hand on his chest, signifying disappointment as he continued ¡°Terrans really have impressed us since their emergence into the galactic community. To subjugate 431 species in such a short time is rather impressive.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°The Terran Alliance is not subjugation.¡± Jan''s voice turned sour as he spoke, even his practised demeanour slightly wavering as the insulting concept was mentioned. He knew exactly what his counterpart was doing: Annoying him before the actual meat of the meeting.


    ¡°Calling a slave collar a necklace doesn¡¯t change what it is. Last I confirmed it was named the ¡®Terran¡¯ alliance. You enforce your own morality and power structures on your ¡®members¡¯.¡± The voice of Unk¡¯gar was smug, a voice of supposed peace filled with venom. ¡°When was the last time the Lithoirians actually fought someone? The Isolationist Hatil opening their borders? Even rumours of some Scythen aiding with weapons research. You subjugate those who join your alliance to Terran whims and morals, which is exceptionally impressive to be done on such a scale.¡±


    ¡°This conversation isn¡¯t going anywhere.¡± Jan¡¯s patience had run thin from the sanctimonious drivel being spouted by the Raha. ¡°Unless your intention was to waste my time I believe we have something more important to discuss.¡±


    "That was not my intent, I merely desired to find some common ground." Unk¡¯gar tapped a button hidden on the underside of the table, causing a screen inlaid with yet more gold to come to life. "but as you insist.".


    The clip was short with no audio, lasting a mere ten seconds, but clearly showing a Terran blowing a hole in the chest of Prince Hakthas using a rather weighty handgun. A suspicious lack of context was the first thought through Jan¡¯s head.


    ¡°Three days ago Prince Hakthas was murdered in cold blood by a Terran. This heinous act against the Raha Royal house cannot go unanswered. Since we have been unable to find the perpetrator so far, we believe the Terran must have escaped into Terran Alliance space.¡± Unk¡¯gar¡¯s mandibles clicked together in a show of demanding and attempted dominance. ¡°We demand that the Terran be remanded into the custody of the Estorian Empire, or we will take action.¡±


    ¡°Demand?¡± Jan raised an eyebrow, just wondering exactly what exactly they expected the Terran Alliance to do about this. ¡°You provide me an out of context video for a random Terran, and expect us to magically provide them. We will investigate this claim, then we will consider your ¡®demand¡¯¡±.


    ¡°Demand may have been the wrong statement. Notification is more pertinent. We will not let such an action stand, and merely believe in allowing one to fix their mistakes before our own intervention. Do we make ourselves clear?¡±


    It was crystal clear exactly what the Raha was trying. Manufacturing justification. This wasn¡¯t a request or even something they expected the Terrans to do, they just wanted it on record that they had attempted to work with the Terrans before making their own move. Such simple diplomacy wouldn¡¯t work on most, but it might convince a few more neutral factions to stay out of any ¡°kerfuffle¡±.


    It also made clear the next action that Jan and his team needed to take. They needed to find whoever was on that video first before the Estorians did.


    Before the Estorians did something very very stupid.


    ¡ª-------------


    The three fingered hands of the Zorthian gripped slightly to Amander''s arm, Fluur giving a small grunt of pain as he gingerly lowered himself into the medicated bath, an expression of relief filling his face as he finally sat down. The hastily constructed pool and best guess Zorthian medication wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was better than nothing.


    They were back on the ¡°A Shining Star '''', having intercepted their vessel unpiloted trajectory and letting the previous slaves take control of the Estorian ship; providing them with the fastest directions to Terran space. In the five days since then, Amander had spent her time fixing up what remained to be fixed of her crippled vessel, working out their next move, and taking care of Fluur.


    The damage the Amphibian had was worse than she¡¯d originally seen. The lack of proper access to water for three weeks had done extensive damage to the skin, drying and damaging the normally soft and translucent blue hide, causing it to split and break with any movement. The cuts, bruises and broken bones would heal, but the fins and skin might not.


    They had been doing their best, but DRAKE lacked any real medical knowledge on Zorthian biology, having to make a educated guess through trial and error.


    Amander spent a few moments pouring and gently rubbing the purple liquid into hard to reach spots, muttering soft words of encouragement. The injuries had thankfully been getting better over the days, if slower than she would have wanted. Apart from one injury. It was an injury that manifested itself in several ways: in the way Fluur currently sat hunched, in the way he¡¯d wake up screaming in the night. In his eyes.


    Every time Amander saw his eyes, she wanted to go back and shoot the bastard who had done this again. The purple orbs had once been filled with curiosity, with a stubborn determination that had given Fluur the courage to remain by the communicator up until the end. Now they were dull, now they were broken.


    ¡°Now Imma gonna give you some privacy to soak.¡± Amander dried her hands as she slowly turned to leave the jurry rigged pool. ¡°When you wanna get out just give me a holla ok?¡±


    ¡°Amander?¡± The Terran gave a pause as the small frail voice of Fluur sounded out. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you mention it sweetheart¡±. Amander gave a warm smile in response, a tinge of sadness creeping in around the eyes. ¡°Now you go get some rest.¡±


    ¡ª--------------


    The Terran stood in front of the command panel, inputting the next step on their path, another seemingly random location. Of course, Amander and DRAKE knew it wasn¡¯t random, but instead years of training in how to avoid someone who might be looking for you.


    ¡°Fluur seems to be responding better to the latest treatment.¡± A visual hologram of DRAKE appeared in the room, his chosen representation being a black Chinese dragon, spinning and circling around itself in one spot. ¡°Though not being able to dock and get aid at the closest Terran Alliance location is sub-optimal for his recovery.¡±


    ¡°Yes I know that. You don¡¯t keep having to mention it. I get it, I fucked up!¡± Amander angrily ran a hand through her hair before inputting the final commands, causing the ship to re-enter warp. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be so passive aggressive bout it!¡±


    ¡°Not being able to contact authorities for help is not optimal. Possibly starting a war is also not optimal¡±


    She knew that the AI was right. The fact that they couldn¡¯t just drop into the nearest Terran Alliance port and get Fluur better help was a huge hindrance: Partly because it would make it easier for the Raha to find them, and partly because there was no guarantee that a bureaucrat somewhere wouldn¡¯t just hand them over to the Estorian Empire to avoid a war. It was unlikely, but governments had done shiftier things.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I just¡­ when the bastard was talking about being entertained¡­.¡±


    ¡°I have no love lost for the dead prince. It was satisfying seeing karma be dispensed. I would also be lying if I did not expect this result. Your brand of chaos is surprisingly predictable. I just wish there was a better plan than flying randomly around in a half broken vessel.¡±


    ¡°Oh this ain¡¯t random.¡± Amander gets a more excited smile at the thought of visiting an old friend. ¡°We¡¯re gettin help from an old friend. We¡¯re gonna visit Spot.¡±


    ¡ª---------------


    The screaming and whimpering had stopped, much to Lut¡¯har¡¯s annoyance and displeasure. The Raha looked down at the small pink lizard now lying motionless in front of him, wrenching out the knife he¡¯d been using to cut pieces off of the subservient. He gave the now useless corpse a kick, watching it slump over as it joined the five others. Lut¡¯har¡¯s antenna twitched with annoyance as he turned to the other subservients in the room, watching the collection of worthless species shiver and tremble against the might of a Raha.


    ¡°Useless¡±.


    Five days ago a most heinous crime had been committed, prince Hakthas had been murdered by a Terran. Lut¡¯har didn¡¯t much care for the cavorting prince, but caring for them individually was not his duty. He was head of the Int¡¯ch Elite guard, an unwavering disciple of Int¡¯ch; the Sun god who had long ago decreed that the warming light of the sun was only fit for the Raha. His job was to ensure the prosperity of the Raha royal house, no matter who was in charge.


    Which made the murder very much his problem.


    Lut¡¯har took a moment to wipe his blade clean storing it back within the folds of his clothes, the loops of fabric coming in bright oranges and reds, depicting their homeworld¡¯s sun. Finding the royal barge had been easy: It had been making a beeline for Terran space; making intercepting it child''s play. However getting to the next level of the burrow¡­ had been harder.


    All data banks had been wiped, no security records existed, even the discarded fired kinetic ammunition the Terrans liked so much had been removed. Apart from the call to the Royal treasury and the various bullet holes in the walls from the Terran¡¯s destructive power, there was no evidence at all as to who had committed the attack on the Raha.


    Well, all apart from one thing: They had left the subservients untouched.This was why Lut¡¯har disliked Terrans. If they were just another weakling subservient race he would understand it, but Terrans¡­ had so much potential. So close to greatness, yet choosing to throw it away at the last moment. They had utterly destroyed the Hatil, planet cracking a colony before¡­ just stopping. They had formed one of the bigger alliances in the galaxy in a mere 70 years, but then did nothing with it. Here they had executed an almost perfect attack on the royal guard, but then let their empathy stop them from finishing the job.


    Had they have just killed everyone on the ship, he would have no more information then a grub in the dark. But instead he, and the four elite Int¡¯ch guard he had brought with him, now stood in front of the room of quivering pathetic subservients, using the usual methods to get the information they wanted.


    Lut¡¯har started to reach for the next unfortunate soul, a brown furred mammal who whimpered and pulled back, before stopping. He whispered a few words to one of his men, the elite guard leaving for a few minutes before returning with a container of impulse engine fuel, and a plasma torch.


    ¡°I apologise to all of you. I just realised my mistake. I¡¯m treating you like intelligent people.¡± Lut¡¯har popped the cap of the container off in one swift movement, never removing his gaze from the huddled pile.


    ¡°If a Raha was in your position, they would know the information. If a Hagorthian was in your position, they would know the information. I¡¯d even bet a Terran would know what information I need¡±.


    Thew Raha started methodically pouring the liquid over the group of subjugates, the flammable liquid quickly filling the room with a sharp pungent smell, as shouts of terror and panic started to fill the room.


    ¡°But you¡¯re not any of those things. You are all worthless, pathetic, unworthy of the light given by Int¡¯ch. But together, maybe, if Int¡¯ch wills it, you can make up one intelligent person. So let''s have a group exercise.¡±


    Lut¡¯har finished emptying the container, before lighting the plasma torch with a flourish, causing the fuel soaked subjugates to panic even further.


    ¡°What do you know about the Terran who murdered the late prince Hakthas?¡±


    Information started pouring in, snippets of anything each of the slaves had seen or heard about their saviours. Most of it was useless, he knew the Terran was female, he knew what she looked like. But a few pieces of pertinent information came through in the rush,


    ¡°I saw their ship''s name¡­ I think it was called Star!¡±


    ¡°No, it was called A Shining star!¡±


    ¡°They had an AI, they called it DRAKE.¡±


    ¡°The prisoner''s name was Fluur¡±.


    ¡°They said he was a Zorthian.¡±


    ¡°The Terran, they called her Amander.¡±


    Lut¡¯har raised up his hand for silence, clicking his fingers together into a tapping noise of positive appreciation.


    ¡°See, that wasn¡¯t so hard. Why, if I close my eyes and listen, you all almost sound like one intelligent person.¡±


    Lut¡¯har turned to leave, he had what he needed: Names, a ship name. More enough information to start tracking them down. He then stopped before completely leaving the room, giving a disappointed clack of his mandibles, a sound that caused a deep terror in the slaves behind him.


    ¡°Still, you have all failed in your duty. The Raha dragged you from the dark of your hovels into the loving light of Int¡¯ch. You had one task: To serve prince Hakthas, a task you have all failed at. For this, punishment is required.¡±


    Lut¡¯har tossed the lit plasma touch behind him.


    Cleansing the failures in Int¡¯ch¡¯s burning fire.

 Collateral damage: Part 3

    ¡°Found her!¡±


    The file was slammed onto the desk with a great amount of force, causing Jan to jump as his train of thought was broken, looking up in shock and annoyance at the rude intruder who had just burst into his office unannounced.


    ¡°What the hell are you doing¡­¡±


    His annoyance trailed off as he looked up at the person who had barged in, a surprise turning to worry as he took in the sight of the now dishevelled diplomat.


    ¡°Claire? Are you OK?¡±


    ¡°I am now sir. I mean Jan. I know who we¡¯re looking for now. Amander Blake!¡±


    The previously nervous and quiet demeanour was gone, replaced with the caffeine driven monster in front of him, bags under her eyes and a manic energy permeating her entire core. Jan had last seen Claire 50 hours ago, after the entire diplomatic team had gone all hands on deck trying to find who this mystery Terran was.


    ¡°Have you slept since we last talked?¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t. Annoyed me. Couldn¡¯t work out who was on the video. Most time I¡¯ve ever spent researching someone is two hours and that guy was in witness protection!¡±


    There was an animated energy to Claire, even through her obvious exhaustion, that universal force of someone very good at doing something, explaining how they did said thing after finally cracking something difficult.


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t on any of the major facial recognition databases. Scythen, Gretoian, Kirken. Moved to private databases, Riven Conglomerate. Yazzak Corporation. MediaSplat limited. Nothing. We¡¯re basically already at about 97% of the known galaxy at this point, so whoever this was, was clearly making an effort to hide. But everyone leaves an impact somewhere, and I found a picture of her in a Zorthian news article of all things.¡±


    That was an unexpected name to be brought up. The amphibians are a minor one planet member of the Terran Alliance who had only just recently joined the galactic community.


    ¡°It referred to the group evacuation of their failed colony: Mountain stream. One Amander Blake, captain of the trading vessel Texas Forever. It got easier now I had a name, but at that point I was thirty hours in, and finding Blake¡¯s past wasn¡¯t easy.¡±


    ¡°The last sixty years she¡¯s continually had genetic and physical facial reconstruction every five years. In addition to the standard military reflex and stamina upgrades she had before, but more about that later. Nothing major, but enough specifically to mess up facial recognition. Uses a different place each time, with places that only report the barest of legally required information. But in the end I found everything! Because I always do. Because I am god!¡±


    With a flourish Claire pointed at the thick folder of information on Jan¡¯s desk. He looked at it for a moment, flicking through the tomb of information he¡¯d been given. He could read this in his own time, but Claire¡¯s expression told him that she was waiting for him to ask the obvious question.


    ¡°So who is Amander Blake then? Who are we looking for?¡±


    ¡°Amander Blake, Born in Lubbock, Texas, United States of America on February 16th 2197. Oldest of three children, no currently known living relatives. Entered the United states military at the age of 21 in 2218, when they were offering free regeneration and uplift facilities for all members. Of course three years later the great colony rebellion happened.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Jan remembered that shit show. Rising tensions between Earth and her colonies had resulted in a full out war in the Sol system. People had always assumed that nuclear weapons would be the armament of choice for humanity''s next great war, but it turned out that once you reach the scale of planetary warfare just dropping lumps of rock and metal on each other from orbit was far easier and far more destructive.


    ¡°Involved in both the invasion of Mars and Titan, highly decorated in both campaigns and bonded with the military AI Drake during this time; back when the laws around the hashing of AI were a little more sketchy. Both of their records get kinda¡­ spotty after this. Partly because of the collapse of the previous power structures and transitory governments, which made record keeping annoyingly sparse. Partly because everything I do find after this is censored past recognition.¡±


    Which meant Amander has training. Lots of it. Jan thought bitterly.


    ¡°Officially both Drake and Amander were involved in every conflict from then to the end of standard time. The Conglomerate Wars, Alpha Centauri, the Sagittarius Anarchy. Most of it redacted: if we ever run out of black ink it will be because of this document.¡±


    Claire¡¯s demeanour turned more solemn, the energetic movements dissipating as she continued.


    ¡°She was on Orion-3 when the God Plague happened. Looking that up, the situation looked bad.¡±


    Bad was an understatement. The God Plague had an average 50% mortality rate over the entirety of humanity. Averages are deceiving however: Sol had plenty of time to prepare stasis chambers and the logistics of freezing every Terran Human, ending up with a 5% casualty rate. The Orion sector was patient zero, with some planets ending up with a 95% casualty rate.


    ¡°Was released from stasis and cured in 2 Post-Stasis Time. Nothing major to report until the Hatil war, 7 PST. Similar redacted records as before, but this one ends with a court martial, for treason of all things. Not guilty, probably because her last station was the T.C Odin¡±.


    T.C Odin. The planet cracker. The Terran Conclave had found the galaxy full of life, and one of the first things they¡¯d done was destroy an entire planet in response to a minor provocation.


    Jan could remember exactly where he was when the news of the destruction of Tavaris broke. He remembered all the rage and anger he¡¯d felt, at the God Plague, at the Hatil¡¯s first move on Terrans entering the galactic community and declaring a war. He remembered all that melting away to be replaced with the horror of what had been done.


    Sure the Hatil had started it, but a year into the war everyone knew they were so technologically behind Terrans that they were no real threat. Not enough of a threat to wantonly kill millions. The public backlash had been immense.


    Many have theorised that the destruction of the Hatil colony single handedly calmed Terrans down, showing what happens when you go too far: As if the current Terran aversion to getting into a full scale engagement again was an over correction to what they had once done.


    ¡°After that, Amander and Drake spent their time doing various jobs, everything from courier service to bounty hunting. The main thing they have in common is their lack of interaction with Terrans. Most recent line of work is as a independent surveyor of unmapped areas of the galactic map¡±


    Claire gave a yawn, finishing off the summation of fifty hours of straight research.


    ¡°Amander has a simple, if worrying profile. Strong willed and motivated by ethics, distrust of authority, no real long term goals. Is willing to bend the rules but doesn¡¯t seem the type to be actively criminal. Probably in this situation because the Raha did something they shouldn¡¯t, not that I expected anything else.¡±


    ¡°So basically we¡¯re looking for someone who isn¡¯t going to come to us for help due to a distrust of the government, who has enough training and knows how to stay hidden if they don¡¯t want to be found?¡±


    It could have been worse. Not by much though.


    ¡±All we can really do is put out a Alliance wide notification to look for Amander and her ship.¡± Jan said. ¡°Hopefully the Raha also have just as much difficulty in finding her as we will.¡±


    Jan gave a deep sigh, knowing how bad this was.


    ¡°Go get some sleep Claire, I¡¯ll get the notification out¡±


    ¡°Waay ahead of you sir.¡±


    Jan watched incredulously as Claire just slumped down on one of the chairs, collapsing in exhaustion and falling asleep in seconds.


    ¡°That is not what I¡­ never mind.¡±


    Jan couldn¡¯t help but think back to the destruction of Tavaris. If that was how far Terrans were willing to go against a mostly harmless enemy, how far would they go against an actually dangerous foe? If this spiralled out of control, what would a war with the Estorian empire actually entail?


    The diplomat desperately hoped he¡¯d never have to find out.

 Collateral damage - Part 4

    There were a very many things Baithe should have been worried about.


    The fact that at all times she stood over enough nuclear and antimatter warheads to instantly obliterate herself, the research facility and the entire moon they were situated on.


    The fact that in every single room, including her personal sleeping quarters, contained a high intensity cleansing device. A Terran made speciality which would instantly consume the area in super heated plasma, destroying everything down to a cellular level.


    The fact that what she was working on was considered potentially dangerous enough for Terran paranoia to deem all these safety measures a minimum.


    Or maybe it was the fact that she had gotten used to such things, had mentally placed them in a box labelled ¡°Things that just were¡±. Terran insanity was seemingly contagious.


    No, the thing the Hatil was worried about was the new Terran boarding the facility. Unannounced, unverified, and even worse the ship''s initial docking had triggered several alerts. The kind of alerts you got if a criminal or someone of interest to the government attempted to dock with your station.


    Alerts that Spot had overridden, explaining that everything was fine and he¡¯d explain later. Baithe trusted the doctor, but still¡­ It was all highly worrying. The ship had docked, dropped off a Terran and Zorthian, then left just as quickly, leaving the research team of three confused.


    So now she was standing in the lobby, waiting impatiently for the decontamination procedures to finish so they could meet whoever these mystery people were. Baithe stood at a full 4ft tall, covered from head to toe in cream coloured fur, face punctuated with two deep black eyes and a set of floppy ears; as if some crazed scientist had smushed together a baby seal and a teddy bear. The standard gold and blue uniform of the Terran Alliance Scientific Progress Initiative made her look unintentionally adorable.


    ¡°What do you think about this Steve? I trust Spot, but it¡¯s all a bit weird right?¡±


    ¡°Answering query: Placing two Terrans on any vessel is worrying regardless of reason, as they exponentially increase the insanity.¡±


    The second member of the research team was a Scythen: A ball of tentacles fluctuating in various colours, sat atop a small hovering disk to allow easy locomotion, speaking in a robotic voice: A necessity to allow communication with more standard species. They were well known for being one of the older and more technologically advanced species with a religious devotion to pacifism.


    Technically their name wasn¡¯t Steve, but their actual name wasn¡¯t able to be understood by anyone who didn¡¯t have multiple tentacles and the ability to change colour, so Steve it was.


    ¡°Does that really apply here? Spot isn¡¯t exactly a normal Terran.¡±


    ¡°Disagreeing statement: The children of Terrans are still Terrans, and share their chaos and insanity.¡±


    This discussion was cut short as the door finally opened, the lengthy decontamination process ending with a flurry of noise and the scent of disinfectant and burnt ozone. After over an hour the members of the research facility would get to see just who had caused all this trouble: Amander and Fluur.


    Immediately the worry regarding the mystery Terran evaporated from the two researchers, replaced by a concern for the heavily injured Zorthian who was desperately gripping onto Amander¡¯s arm to keep himself upright.


    It took a moment for what they saw to actually sink in, before Baithe rushed to provide the injured Fluur something to sit down on, the Zorthian gratefully sinking into the hastily grabbed chair.


    ¡°Howdy y¡¯all, I don¡¯t do suppose any of ya have seen Spot?¡± The Terran gleefully called out.


    ¡°Amander. Blake!¡± A new voice shouted from across the room.


    Amander didn¡¯t have a middle name, but the energy was the same as a mother calling out her child''s full name.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The third and last member of the research team stood in the doorway, a bipedal Canine covered in short black fur, also dressed in the blue and gold uniform, standing at a full 3ft tall. It was as if someone had taken a Labrador, forced it upright on two legs, then given it a voice box and opposable thumbs.


    Of course the reason it seemed that way was because this was exactly what had happened to the canine uplift.


    Spot was currently glaring at Amander, only the slow thumping of a wagging tail hitting the wall behind him betraying just how happy he was to see his friend, regardless of the circumstances.


    "Hey! How''s my favoritest person in the galaxy doing?" Amander gave a large grin as she spoke, deliberately ignoring the tone of voice.


    "What. Did. You. Do." Spot spoke the words sternly, through gritted teeth and one at a time.


    "I was mindin my own business when-"


    "You''re always minding your own business!" Spot interrupted Amander "Why is there an alliance wide alert in your name!"


    Amander gave a charismatic smile in response to this. She had figured that the Terran government would eventually find out what had happened. She had also figured that Spot was ¡°cool¡± enough to disregard such things


    "An alert I¡¯m sure you ignored.¡±


    Spot stopped for a moment, an annoyed pause filling the air as the rest of the room''s inhabitants awkwardly watched this back and forth from the sidelines, before the canine eventually responded


    ¡°... Yes.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s why you¡¯re a good boy.¡± Amander teased.


    This last statement from Amander caused the general thumping of the wagging tail hitting the doorframe to turn into a rapid snare drum as Spot struggled to contain his joy.


    ¡°That is not the question." Spot said, returning to a strained voice through gritted teeth "What did you do, and why shouldn¡¯t I call the government and get them to deal with your mess?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s probably a discussion to be havin in private, since-¡±


    ¡°No." The response from the uplift was simple, interrupting the human''s attempt at secrecy "Whatever it is my team deserves to know as well, since they¡¯ll also be in whatever mess you created this time.¡±


    Baithe and Steve both desperately did not want to be involved in this, the Scythen a vibrant purple that signified discomfort, and the Hatil looked like she wanted to melt through the floor. This was the feeling of going to a friends house, and watching them have an argument with their parents.


    Amander gave a sigh, taking a moment¡¯s delay to finally speak up.


    ¡°I may have¡­ shot a Raha prince. While being recorded.¡±


    The reaction was immediate, an outpouring of shock and worry with regards to the exact mess the Terran was in, Baithe, Steve and Spot all crying out at the same time.


    ¡°You did what!¡±


    ¡°Shocked Statement: That is not good¡±


    ¡°You came here after doing that?!¡±


    This continued for another twenty seconds, the researchers verbally laying into Amander with statements of concern, until another voice joined the mass of noise.


    "Hey"


    Nobody reacted to the soft voice, forcing Fluur to speak louder the second time.


    "Hey!"


    The noise quietened down, everyone in the room turning to look at the injured Zorthian with expressions of panic and anger turning to a more empathetic look.


    "It''s not Amander''s fault. Without her I¡¯d still be on the ship, without her they¡¯d still be¡­ I¡¯d still be¡­ they deserved to die.¡±


    Fluurs voice was quiet, shaky, eyes fixated to the ground as he spoke not daring to look up from the floor as the entire room stared at him as he continued to speak.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t want us around that¡¯s fine, but Amander has done nothing but speak highly of you Spot, she said you would be able to help.¡±


    The tension had left the room, replaced with a more solemn feeling as Spot gave a deep sigh and looked at Fluur.


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying we won¡¯t help, but it¡¯s a lot to throw at us so suddenly." Spot said "What is your plan Amander, you always have one.¡±


    ¡°It ain¡¯t much. Drake is gonna fly around with the ship, makin sure no one with ill intent was followin us, then contact the useless folks known as the government for a longer term solution. Maybe drop this story to every media outlet if they try to be sneaky about it.¡±


    The disdain for the Terran government was clear in Amander¡¯s voice as she continued explaining her plan.


    ¡°This facility isn¡¯t on any map, and in addition I reckon outside of his home planet you¡¯re the only facility that could help little Fluur here; due to your special project and all. We just need a place to stay for a week, and some medical expertise.¡±


    Spot gave another sigh, clearly beaten down by the sad state of Fluur.


    ¡°If Steve and Baithe are fine taking the risk, we¡¯ll help you.¡±


    There was a moment as both of them signalled their acceptance, before Baithe gave a frown as something occurred to her.


    ¡°Wait" The Hatil asked "how do you know what we¡¯re doing here, this is secret stuff?¡±


    ¡°Questioning Query: Has Spot been telling the other Terran about our work?¡± Steve turned to ''face'' Spot as he added to the question.


    The uplift gave a defensive stance, raising his paws in innocence as he looked just as surprised as the other two research members.


    ¡°No I haven¡¯t! But this is Amander we¡¯re talking about, so as soon as I refused to tell her, she probably went and did something ethically dubious to get the information.¡±


    The grin on Amanders face said it all, causing Spot to physically facepalm in response, giving a sigh as he decided to ignore her and get to business.


    ¡°Come on, let''s get you both settled in and a treatment plan for the Zorthian. Also, Amander?¡±


    The uplift gave a warm smile, tail wagging once again and he looked at his friend.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again.¡±

 Collateral damage - Part 5

    The room was¡­ Strange, even by Terran standards. Gaudy, tacky, trying too hard. It was difficult to tell exactly what style it was trying to invoke; as if someone had taken every Terran culture, sloshed them together in a container, added ice and then had poured out this atrocity of design.


    The room was lit only with hundreds of prayer candles that lined the walls, leaving the far side shrouded in darkness and casting deep shadows along the marble pillars that ''held up'' the ceiling. The ceiling itself is an intricate wood panelled design that very much did not go with the three gold and crystal chandeliers that punctuated it.


    The rest of the room was filled with random artwork, everything from famous paintings known to be stolen, through to thrift store knockoffs. A Picasso originally thought to be lost during the great colony rebellion was placed next to a picture of a boat done by an unknown child, a Michelangelo statue carved in marble stood almost haphazardly behind a cheap looking giant plastic Buddha. Nothing matched, nothing was given priority, nothing had a theme.


    Even the floor itself was wrong, a cheap packed dirt instead of a more standard metallic flooring, intersected by two flowing streams filled with expensive fish and other flora. Of course like everything the oracle did, this was all done for a meticulous reason: An intelligent adversary might be able to use clues from a more standard design to estimate a place of birth or even an age range. Their job was to store information, not give it out, not to give anyone looking for the actual identity of the little known galactic figure any possible information or clue.


    In the centre of the room a giant medieval tapestry was being used as a rug, upon which two Raha were knelt, or at least as much as their physiologies allowed them to kneel. The one on the left was Lut¡¯har.


    Even with the information he had gained from the subservients the trail had gone cold. Nobody had seen a whisper of ¡°A Shining Star¡±, and the most logical path from the original location to Terran space gave nothing.


    Which was why he had gone to see the Oracle.


    To his right knelt a second Raha. Gat¡¯Karwas situated under Lut¡¯har¡¯s command, being considered ambitious, talented, having quickly risen up the ranks into his current position. Most Raha would have seen such a person as a threat and taken steps to remove them, but Lut¡¯har specifically had his position because the devotion to the royal line was his main goal. He was a rarity among his species, one who did not care for the power he wielded per say, but instead was truly devoted to his religious cause; he was not the kind of Raha to burn the funeral pyre of someone who might otherwise serve Int¡¯ch.


    ¡°Oh Bright one, why are we wasting time dealing with a mere Terran.¡±


    He had to give Gat¡¯Kar credit, he really did know how to lay on the charm with superiors.


    ¡°This Terran is possibly one of the few to grab their species'' full potential. If you need information, and you know how to find them, the Oracle will sell any piece of knowledge you require. It is how I knew about the assassination attempt on King Lanthas, or about the plot from the Lelzoil royal house to depose the Raha from the Estorian empire.¡±


    He could see the surprise twitch through Gat¡¯Kar¡¯s antenna. Those were the events that had solidified Lut¡¯har as head of the Int¡¯ch Elite guard, and had deposited upon him a reputation of being all knowing.


    ¡°But Bright One, why are you telling me this?¡±


    Lut¡¯har turned to focus entirely on his subordinate.


    ¡°You have risen quickly through the ranks and no doubt seek to supplant me at some point. Out of everyone under my command you are the most likely to succeed.¡±


    Lut¡¯har could see the slight spasms of panic running through Gat¡¯Kar.


    So you already have a plan, interesting.


    Of course if Lut¡¯har killed everyone who had a plan to take his position, he would literally have no one to command.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°Do not worry little grub, you are welcome to try. The role of head of the Int¡¯ch Elite guard is larger than any one person, it is not about my personal inhibition. If you were to succeed, no matter how unlikely, it means Int¡¯ch has deemed you more worthy to protect the royal house. This means Int¡¯ch requires I show you how I serve the royal line before you make your move.¡±


    It was also a test. Gat¡¯Kar also had an arrogance within him, one that made him very effective at rising in the ranks, but would need to be tempered to be an effective herald for the Raha Royal house.


    ¡°Just stay silent and watch, this Terran is not one to be contested.¡±


    Almost as if responding to the mentioning of their own person, two red pinpoints of light emitted from the darkened far wall as an overhead light turned on, showing the pair of Raha the object of their discussion: The Oracle.


    Or at least a representation that they used. The robot was vaguely humanoid and would have stood at around 10 ft tall if it hadn¡¯t been sat cross legged. The materials and pieces matched the room, insofar as none of them matched. Rusted old parts attached to new shiny chrome, clockwork machinery placed next to hydraulics.


    It represented an androgynous human of unknown gender and race, no real identifying features, with the exception of the glowing red eyes and the six arms attached to its side. These limbs were placed in front of it in a faux representation of a prayer, head bowed before them.


    ¡°WElcome TO THe ORacle. KNowledge IS POwer ANd ALl POwer CAn BE BRought.¡±


    The voice matched everything else around them. It switched between Terran languages, between AI generated voices and actual audio clips. Male, Female, AI, Uplift, human. It was impossible to tell whose voice this was. Like everything else, it was designed to hide the real identity of the person or persons that were behind this.


    ¡°WHo ARe THe TRuthseekers BEfore ME? WHo ARe ON THe PAth TO ENlightenment?¡±


    ¡°I am Lut¡¯har, head of the Int¡¯ch Elite guard and herald of the Raha royal house. This is Gat¡¯Kar, my second in command.¡±


    There was a moment as the machine seemed to regard them both for a moment, before continuing on.


    ¡°YOu SEek THe LOcation OF AMander BLake, IN REtailaton FOr THe DEath OF PRince HAkthas. THat I CAn PRovide.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that?¡± The look of surprise quivering through Gat¡¯Kar¡¯s antenna was obvious as he spoke out ¡°That information is only known by the Int¡¯ch Elite guard!¡±


    ¡°OUr ROle IS TO KNow THings, INformation IS SAcred ANd WE ARe DIvine.¡± While the voice from the Oracle hadn¡¯t changed, somehow the differing scrapbook of a voice sounded annoyed. ¡°PLease DO NOt INterrupt THis TRansaction OR THere WIll BE COnsequences.¡±


    ¡°I apologise for my subordinates'' actions.¡± Lut¡¯har stated, trying to get things back on track. ¡°What would be the price for such enlightenment, in addition to the location of somewhere I could purchase Terran weaponry?¡±


    Lut¡¯har had to admit that the Terran weapons, while primitive, had been very effective in their own way, and he was always open to new strategies and tactics.


    ¡°TWenty MIllion TErran DOllars, VIa THe USual MEthod.¡±


    ¡°Why would we pay in Terran currency!¡± The anger in Gat¡¯Kar¡¯s voice was obvious as once again he spoke out of turn. ¡°You will accept Estorian Credits!¡±


    ¡°DUe TO YOur BArbaric WAys EStorian CRedits WIll NOt SUffice, AS WE HAve NO INtention TO VIsit THat PItiful ANd INsignificant EMpire.¡±


    ¡°How dare you!¡± Gat¡¯Kar started to angrily get to his feet as he shouted ¡°I should tear you and this ship apart for speaking like-¡±


    Three things happened at the same time. The first, was that Gat''Kar made the very unwise choice to draw his weapon in anger and arrogance. The second was the sound of a gunshot echoing around the room, originating from an unseen location. The third was Gat¡¯Kar¡¯s head exploding into a variety of liquid chunks, spraying the floor and Lut¡¯har with what used to be the Raha¡¯s tiny brain matter.


    ¡°THe PRice IS NOw TWenty ONe MIllion¡± The representation of the oracle turned to look at the last remaining Raha. ¡°FOr RUg CLeaning Costs.¡±


    Lut¡¯har could barely contain the feeling of satisfaction as he authorised the payment; the supposed location of his quarry being transmitted to his personal device nearly instantly: A uninhabited moon on the edge of Terran space. Gat¡¯Kar had been worryingly competent, and while he was the rare kind of Raha who wasn¡¯t willing to set someone else¡¯s funeral pyre alight, he was more than happy to let dangerous up and comers to set their own pyre aflame.


    ¡°I thank you for this guidance Oracle¡± The Raha began to get up, before being interrupted.


    ¡°WAit. I HAve ONe MOre PIece OF GUidances TO GIve.¡±


    Lut¡¯har paused, confusion setting in. The Oracle never gave you anything other than what you exactly asked for or wanted.


    ¡°The cost?¡±


    ¡°COnsider THis ON THe HOuse, AS YOu ARe A VAlued CUstomer.¡±


    There was a pause as Lut¡¯har wondered exactly what this would be, before the Oracle continued once more.


    ¡°DO NOt TAke THe PAth YOu ARe HEaded DOwn. IT WIll LEad TO YOur DEmise, ANd THe DEmise OF THe EStorian EMpire.¡±


    ¡°Since when does the Oracle take sides?¡±


    ¡°I DO NOt. WE HAve A REputation FOr ACcurate ANd USeful INformation. A REputation THat YOur FAilure MIght DIsparage. OUr OBligations HAve NOw BEen MEt.¡±


    ¡°YOu HAve BEen WArned¡±

 Collateral damage - Part 6

    ¡°So let''s get the admin out of the way, then we can start the treatment.¡±


    Spot sat across the table from Fluur, datapad in hand as the doctor looked across to his unexpected patient. The room they were in mostly looked normal, like any other medical examination room across the galaxy. It had a chair, one of those paper lined beds to lie on, cabinets filled with weird pieces of medical equipment that all presumably have a use for some test or ailment.


    The one exception was the chamber, pressed against the wall: A metal and glass tube with enough space for an average sized single person to sit or lie down in. Pipes and wires ran from unknown vectors intersecting with the chamber, making the entire thing look less like a piece of cutting edge medical equipment, and more like something you¡¯d find in a crazed scientist''s basement.


    ¡°So just to confirm: You are Fluur, 4th of his name, son of Guurion, Citizen of the Zorthian Republic?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡±


    Fluur response was the polar opposite of the uplift¡¯s: Muted, quiet, unsure. His eyes fixated at a downwards angle towards the table. Spot on the other hand was excited, animated as he talked, tail wagging so fast it was a miracle the Terran didn¡¯t take off in flight.


    ¡°Do you have any allergies or previous conditions, especially nano-sensitivity, gyoncell allergy, claustrophobia or any genetic modification?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Fantastic. So I¡¯ll explain what the proposed treatment is, the intended outcomes, and any risks of the treatment. I¡¯ll get you to sign some documents , then we can get started.¡±


    Spot gave a large goofy smile, continuing through the legally required steps.


    ¡°So, the main Terran medical technology is around genetic nanobot manipulation: Both regeneration and Medigel work on this concept of fixing both injuries and ageing at a cellular level. It works extremely well for Terran¡¯s because of the sheer amount of effort gone into mapping and documenting practically every genetic strain.¡±


    The uplift pauses for a moment to motion towards Fluur, clearly full steam ahead on explaining what Spot had been working on for the past few years.


    ¡°This obviously doesn¡¯t work for anyone else though. The system sees Xeno DNA and is unsure what exactly to fix, often causing more damage than it fixes: Activating junk DNA or missing the important stuff. That¡¯s where our work comes in.¡±


    Fluur seemed to perk up a little bit as Spot spoke.It was difficult to not get mentally invested when an expert is explaining something that they¡¯re proud of.


    ¡°Basically, we can create specific genetic markers on a per person basis, using a standard viral application vector for the genetic modification. In layman terms: It¡¯s a custom set of instructions that we insert into your DNA for use by Terran medical technology." Spot took a brief moment to breathe, before continuing.


    "While the end goal is to have this as something that can be accessed at any pharmacy, currently it takes about an hour to whip up the custom genetic modifications on a per person basis, to be taken in two 4 hour sessions. Your government maintains excellent medical records so I¡¯ve already done the first part.¡±


    Fluur gave a frown, the confusion perking him up a little bit. While the concept of universal Medigel was amazing, everyone was acting as if they were working with a live hand grenade instead of medical technology.


    ¡°If the treatment works as it should, which it will, it should have two effects.¡± Spot continued, tail never stopping wagging and a beaming smile never leaving his face. ¡°Firstly is a complete revitalization of your current biology, any illnesses or injuries being healed, as well as deageing about¡­¡±


    The uplift took a few moments to look at his datapad, before continuing on his legally mandated chat.


    ¡°5 years, if I¡¯m calculating it correctly. Secondly it means you¡¯ll be able to use all Terran medical care, including regeneration and Medigel. So you can be reckless as we are!¡±


    This thought caused the Zorthian to give a small soft smile. Being as insane as a Terran was a worrying thought indeed.


    ¡°Potential side effects include headaches, nausea, genetic rejection syndrome and¡­ being instantly incinerated by plasma based fire.¡±


    ¡°Wait. What? How is that a side effect?¡±


    Fluur couldn¡¯t help himself exclaiming out in shock. How did a simple genetic modification have that as a side effect?This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°So it¡¯s to do with Terran safety laws.¡± Spot stated, as if that explained anything. ¡°The last time anyone did something even slightly similar to this, everyone nearly died, aka The God Plague. This technology was actually theorised to be possible before we even knew Xeno life existed, but it¡¯s taken seventy years for anyone to feel comfortable enough trying it, after the, again, everyone nearly dying thing.¡±


    He pointed a paw at the giant chamber in the room


    ¡±That means after application of the treatment, you need to be monitored for four hours in lockdown. If it detects any mutation past what is expected¡­ well it removes all biological material and it stops being your problem.¡±


    The look of shock was evident on Fluurs face.


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding right?¡±


    ¡°The chance of it happening is basically zero, but I legally have to inform you about the risks. If it makes you feel any better, every room also has a similar hook up and as a last resort there''s enough weapons to vaporise the moon we¡¯re on."


    This didn''t make the Zorthian feel better, as suddenly he became aware of the piping that stretched across each ceiling, and the giant red ''don''t push me'' buttons that adorned each room.


    "It''s not just Amander it''s it?" Fluur said it softly, almost resigned. "You''re all insane."


    This caused Spot to laugh, handing over the datapad. "I prefer the term environment induced chaos. If you''re fine to go ahead just provide your consent and we can start.¡±


    Fluur gave a small resigned sigh, placing an amphibian hand on the datapad as it lit up, accepting his bio-metric signature. As he was slowly led into the chamber he knew Amander wouldn¡¯t have brought him anywhere where he was in actual danger. Still, why did Terrans always have to be like this?


    He placed his arm into the auto injector as the chamber slowly sealed up, the wiring of hydraulics and the rumbling sound of the air supply being cut off and filtered in its own closed system: entirely isolating Fluur.


    The tiny prick of the needle injecting into his arm told Fluur all he had to do now was simply wait for the treatment to work. Even this soon the effects were starting to become evident, bruises and healed over cuts slowly fading, dried out damaged skin returning to a normal translucent colour. Everything was seemingly going to plan.


    So why was he starting to panic?


    The walls of the chamber were too close to Fluur, seeming to entrap and entomb him in. The recycled air and small space seemed to rip the breath out of his lungs as the amphibian started to breathe faster. Even with the comfortable seated position and ambient lighting the enclosed space was just too much like¡­ like he was back on the ship. As if at any moment the Raha would come back and-


    ¡°Fluur, are you ok in there? Your vitals have spiked.¡±


    The concerned voice of Spot sounded from a speaker, although he was only just a few feet away.


    ¡°There¡¯s¡­ there¡¯s not a lot of air in here. I can¡¯t breathe. I need to get out..¡±


    The doctor swore under his breath. This was possibly the worst way for someone to find out they have claustrophobia. Spot literally couldn¡¯t open the door even if god was demanding it, the protocols were strict on that. Not until the treatment had been confirmed safe and non mutating.


    ¡°Ok Fluur, just close your eyes and take deep slow breaths OK? Just listen to the sound of my voice, you¡¯re doing great.¡±


    He could see the signs of the Zorthian slowly calming down, but Spot knew he was going to have to distracted Fluur for far longer than that.


    ¡°We got some time and I¡¯m sure you have some questions after spending so much time with Amander.¡±


    Fluur kept his eyes closed, just focusing on breathing and the sound of the uplift.


    ¡°What are you? People call you Terran but you don¡¯t look like any other Terran I¡¯ve seen.¡±


    That caused Spot to chuckle a little bit: Anyone not familiar with Terrans always asked that question.


    ¡°The answer is I¡¯m not a ¡®real¡¯ Terran. Don¡¯t tell Amander that I said that, because I don¡¯t want another 30 minute ¡®You¡¯re a real boy¡¯ lecture. The fact is Humans have long made friends with basically anything that moved, and once they had the technology the first thing humanity did was bring their friends with them. I started my life as a non sapient ¡®Canis lupus familiaris¡¯ and through significant genetic modification, was uplifted to the lovable Doctor you know now.¡±


    Now that confused Fluur. While technologically it was possible, the idea of spending that much time and effort to make it happen was¡­ well it was insane. Although again, he was thinking about Terran actions, calling them insane was repeating himself. His next question however was interrupted as Spot continued to talk.


    ¡°As for your next question: Why? Well there are a lot of ways to describe a Terran: Insane, reckless, crazy. Even if you ask them to describe themselves, they tend to give you negative answers: Aggressive, dangerous, even evil. But in my experience, everything a Terran does can be explained by one single word.¡±


    Spot paused a moment to let his next word have the full impact it deserved.


    ¡°Lonely."


    "Did you know that Terrans are the only species to accidentally create AI? The method for creating digital intelligence is well known, but Humans in their desperation stumbled upon it simply because they wanted their machines to be nicer. There is nothing that they won¡¯t try to befriend, and once they consider something their friend there is nothing that they wouldn¡¯t do for them.¡±


    Fluur could feel the panic creeping back in as the guilt for the amount of trouble he was causing started to seep back into his mind. The Zorthian couldn¡¯t help but wonder if he just wasn¡¯t worth all the trouble his rescue had caused.


    ¡°Is that why Amander came back for me¡±


    ¡°If I know Amander, and I do, there is not a force between heaven and hell that would have stopped her coming back for you. She clearly has taken quite a liking to you during your travels.¡±


    Of course Fluur had also enjoyed his time, and had also come to consider Amander a friend. He had never left Zorthian space before and the Terran seemed to take great joy in showing him the galaxy at large.


    ¡°How do you know Amander?¡±


    Although Fluur couldn¡¯t see it, Spot gave a large smile at that question.


    ¡°I can¡¯t really remember our meeting, as everything before the uplift is a bit of a blur. But when Amander joined the military I was ¡®created¡¯ and I¡¯ve been her friend ever since. I¡¯ve got plenty of stories about the crazy stuff she¡¯s done.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Well there was this one time¡­¡±

 Collateral damage - Part 7

    ¡°Query: Does Amander have to pace like that?¡±


    Amander couldn¡¯t really do anything to help Spot and Fluur, as shooting things in the face real good doesn¡¯t help with medical procedures. In addition, letting an untrained Terran loose in a facility filled with sensitive medical equipment and dangerous chemicals was a quick way to blow up a moon. This left Amander with the only real option to nervously pace around the small break room


    ¡°Well you¡¯re the one who said I had to stay ¡®ere.¡±


    Amander didn¡¯t like waiting. There was always something to do or some task that needed completing, even if it was as simple as maintenance. This meant that right now, she had no idea what to do with herself.


    ¡°Responding query: I said that having the Terran roaming freely around sensitive materials would not have positive outcomes. I did not intend for that to mean you must remain in the same 1ft area.¡±


    Steve was obviously also in the break room, hovering as always, keeping an eye on the Terran to make sure they didn¡¯t set fire to something. Or cover it in cheese. Or set fire to something while covering it in cheese. Next to the Scythen and slumped in a chair was the last unaccounted for member of the research team, Baithe. The Hatil had mostly followed the others out of a curiosity about the Terran.


    Amander gave a sigh, flopping down onto a seat and tapping her fingers on a table, before pulling a GalNet connector out of her pocket and staring at it for a moment.


    ¡°How the hell has it only been twenty minutes!¡± Amander exclaimed loudly, clearly frustrated.


    ¡°So how do you and Spot know each other? From the sounds of it you both go way back.¡±


    Baithe asked this with a smile, half with actual curiosity, half so that Amander would be distracted enough to stop fidgeting while waiting for Fluur''s treatment to finish. It seemed to partially work, as the Terran returned the smile as she responded.


    ¡°You could say that. Originally got ¡®im from a neighbour whose dog had just had a litter of puppies. Cute as a button and super smart, even before the upliftin¡¯. Been my best friend ever since.¡±


    The distraction seemingly worked as Amander gave a nostalgic smile on remembering Spot as a puppy.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t originally plan on getting it done, but then the military started payin for regenerations and uplifts. Just had to stick around for four years, and then figured I¡¯d give Spot the ability to think and I''d get to live forever.¡±


    Amander gave a small chuckle at that joke. Just 4 years. 200 years later, with a few gaps here or there, she had been doing the same job. Still she¡¯d been competent at it, enjoyed it, and overall it had been worth it. At least until it turned out that you couldn¡¯t trust other Terrans.


    ¡°Wait, you were part of the military? That¡¯s so cool!¡± The curiosity flowed out of Baithe, getting more animated and enthusiastic as she spoke. ¡°Is that how you managed to kill the Raha prince? The Zorthian mentioned some of it, one Terran army, like some kind of action movie!¡±


    ¡°Exasperated statement: Baithe, that is not polite to discuss! Our apologies to Amander.¡±


    Steve was flashing the purple and black hue of annoyance, causing the Hatil opposite them to deflate a little.


    ¡°Sorry¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you worry bout it, water under a bridge.¡± The Terran waved off the apology before getting back up and making her way over to the break room''s replicator. ¡°Though if this is what we¡¯re blabbering about then I reckon this ain¡¯t a sober conversation.¡±


    Amander pressed a few inputs on the machine, before frowning and pressing a few more, ending with a flat out scowl and giving the machine a hefty thump.


    ¡°What the hell is wrong with this?¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Explaining query: All replicators in the research facility cannot create mind altering substances, to avoid potential incidences.¡±


    The frown on Amander¡¯s face deepened even further, before pressing a few more buttons and procuring a piece of gum, chewing it up quickly before returning it back to its aluminium packaging.


    ¡°Learned this trick in basic, watch closely¡±


    Baith learned forwards to watch closer as the Terran procured a knife from her side, jamming it into a crack in the replicator¡¯s casing. With one swift movement she popped the side cover off, before delicately placing the gum covered wrapper in a specific location.


    ¡°Ya just gotta pop the side off, then make sure the ends are touching that weird L looking piece and the smiley face circuit. Then reboot it aaaaand¡±.


    There was a moment delay as the replicator rebooted itself, then with a satisfied look Amander pressed the inputs once again, this time procuring a bottle of beer from the machine.


    ¡°Just make sure you remove it before anyone comes round, and unless someone checks the logs there ain¡¯t no trace.¡±


    ¡°Holy shit, you are now my new favourite person!¡±


    Baithe jumped up excitedly from her seat, pumping both adorable paws into the air as she proclaimed her new found friendship with the alcohol supplying Terran.


    ¡°Statement: This is against the Terran Alliance Scientific Progress Initiative guidelines.¡±


    The Scythen remained colourless, no emotions feeding through as Amander rolled her eyes.


    ¡°If Squidward don¡¯t want any I ain''t forcin'' ya.¡±


    ¡°Clarifying statement: I never said that. Make mine a Kirken Skorackta.¡±


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    It had been around two hours of talking and drinking, a time period that could be measured more by the bottles and glasses stacked up on the table in front of the three. The conversation with Amander was more than pleasant, especially considering that the Terran was a fountain of information regarding their coworker and mutual friend. Often embarrassing information.


    ¡°So Spot is stood up on the stage right, just havin¡¯ finished pre-med and obviously gets to do the¡­ the wassit name. The speech you give for being top of your class.¡±


    Amander clicked her fingers repeatedly trying to remember the word before being helped by the Scythen.


    ¡°Aiding statement: Valedictorian address.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the one! So he¡¯s stood there giving his talk, standin'' in his fancy robe. I¡¯m proud as punch of the little guy. When suddenly he just stops, stares out into the university grounds and shouts ¡®SQUIRREL¡¯ at the top of his voice before takin'' a flyin'' leap off the stage.¡±


    ¡°Wait really?¡± Baithe had a shocked smile across her face, expression stuck in incredulous mirth. ¡°We¡¯re talking about the same Spot here right? The guy who wrote half the research papers I studied at uni?¡±


    Amander took a moment to take another swig of beer with a smirk before continuing with her story.


    ¡°Back then the uplift stuff was kinda new, so the balance between instinct and not hadn¡¯t been dialled in yet. You get it wrong and you end up with a dude with a degree climbing a tree chasin'' vermin. There was a good thirty seconds of that, then Spot just climbed back down, walks back up that stage and just continues where he left off while still covered in half a bush. If he ever gets too big for his britches, just shout ¡®Squirrel¡¯ at him, embarrasses the heck out of him.¡±


    A small amount of drunken giggling continued among the group, the thought of the well respected doctor chasing after a squirrel entering the trio¡¯s mind.


    ¡°Contemplative statement: It is strange to consider that Spot started out life non-sapient.¡±


    Steve was a curious blue colour as he poured some more alcoholic beverage into his feeding tubes.


    ¡°It¡¯s just how it is. They¡¯ve always been man¡¯s best friends so as soon as we could bring em along for the ride, we did.¡± Amander responded with a smile ¡°I got pictures if you wanna see em.¡±


    ¡°More than anything, yes!¡± The Hatil almost sent the gin and tonic she was drinking to the ground as Baithe gave an excited clap, catching the offending glass before it tumbled off the table. The grin didn¡¯t leave Baithe¡¯s face as Amander fumbled with her GalNet connector, eventually showing the group an old picture of the adorable black Labrador puppy that would later become Spot.


    The group quietened down a little, the current conversation thread running it course as they continued to nurse their drinks. It was the Scythen who picked the conversation back up, more serious this time.


    ¡°Asking Query: Do you believe anything could come of the Raha situation, any other species the Estorian¡¯s would declare war¡±


    ¡°Even if they did, the Terran¡¯s would just blow up a planet then become their best friend!¡± Baithe responded matter of factly, confident in her assessment of Terrans. ¡°A Terran can¡¯t go pick up fuel without making three new friends and adopting a wild animal.¡±


    Amander¡¯s face soured for a moment, mood turning more sombre with this line of discussion.


    ¡°This would be different. Estorians are slaving assholes who are an actual threat. Not just an incident or a bust up, things tend to get out of hand with us when an actual war is on the table.¡±


    ¡°Dismissive statement: I never understood why Terrans have such a negative view of themselves. The only species to have a negative inclination to Terrans, the friendliest species in the galaxy, are Terrans themselves.¡±


    The statement from Steve got a small smile out of Amander, who simply finished off her current drink before continuing.


    ¡°I reckon it won¡¯t matter. They¡¯ll throw a hissy fit, but neither side really wants a fight. We¡¯ll just go back to the galactic ¡®I¡¯m not touching you¡¯ game.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯d have to do something really stupid for it to go further.¡±

 Collateral damage - Part 8

    Michael was a Ritilian, a bipedal Lizard-like species standing around 4ft tall and covered with a pattern of green and blue iridescent scales. The third to hatch from a bundle of five, the name was chosen because his mother liked the sound of the Terran word. Michael. Exotic and exciting, the syllables whispered the chaos and insanity of the Terrans themselves. It meant ¡°Leader of angels¡±, a religious entity that seeked out evil and destroyed it where it was found.


    Which was all rather ironic and lost on Michael, since the name did not match his personality. No, the Ritilian liked order, liked building things and putting them together. Contrary to his chaotic Terran name, he went into the ordered studies of Maths, Science and then eventually Engineering.


    He was smart. Not a genius: he wasn¡¯t good enough to get a place on a Scythen research vessel, god knows Michael had tried. But he was reliable, decent, and hard working. Someone you could have a good intelligent conversation with, but wasn¡¯t going to revolutionise every field of study he touched.


    Michael worked on the ¡°Curious Hatchling¡±, a research vessel focused mainly on the study of black holes. His job was to make sure that all the ¡°move the ship forwards¡± parts carried on doing that, and didn¡¯t turn into ¡°explode the ship into a fine mist¡± parts. He was good at it, quietly decent at his job, enjoying his time he spent year after year with the rest of the crew.


    Sometimes he did wish there was a bit more excitement though. Sure, he¡¯d carved out his own piece of the galaxy, had a mate back at home and was overall a happy person. But the days turned to weeks turned to months, and compared to the exciting stories he read as a child of the galactic community, it was all a bit¡­ mundane.


    Somewhere a god called Murphy laughed its evil laugh.


    Today was a standard day, it was maintenance day. It was always maintenance day. Very rarely on a spaceship did big interesting things happen, instead lots of small boring things needed to be done, which if not done in a timely manner turned into big scary dangerous things. Today was lubricants, opening up various pieces of machinery and making sure the various fluids and oils that ensured the piece of metal didn¡¯t grind to a halt or burst into flames were all topped up.


    It was boring, monotonous work, as Michael couldn¡¯t help but let his mind wander as he lay there, crouched in a awkward position on the bridge of the ship; slowly dismantling and then checking the machine in front of him. This current trip would be over in a few weeks, then he¡¯d get to see Ravoon.


    The one negative of travelling the stars was being away from her for so long. He¡¯d have to look into getting a more stable job, one that didn''t end with him flying across the galaxy. Wasn¡¯t as exciting, but then again his scales weren¡¯t as soft as they used to be, everyone eventually needed to settle down.


    The power plant was always hiring, wasn¡¯t it?


    ¡°What in the five streams is a Raha ship doing out here?¡±


    Michael was ripped out of his thoughts of future futures as the captain spoke. He couldn¡¯t really see him, stuck with his head under a mass of hydraulics and machinery, but he could still hear the sound of the kindly figure.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure sir, they seem to be dead in the water though. Leaking Warp plasma all over the place. It¡¯s a miracle they haven¡¯t already exploded.¡±


    The second voice was the head of navigation and communications. Michael never really interacted much with her, but still could recognize her voice.


    ¡°Any response to our hail?¡±


    ¡°None, but communications are all scrambled due to a local solar storm, flares are messing with anything stronger than a flashlight. Probably what caused their trouble.¡±


    There was a pause, Michael could imagine the captain thinking for a moment before responding.


    ¡°Law of safe harbour applies. We can ask them what they are doing this deep into Terran Alliance space after they¡¯re not likely to imminently explode.¡±


    There was one constant among almost all sapients, no matter what alliance or species you hailed from, there was a near universal fear of dying slowly in the vast emptiness of space. Even before anyone made it to space every culture had its own version. The Terrans had maritime law, the Raha had the law of the desert plains.


    The accepted agreement was no matter who you were, even if the guy on the other end was your hated enemy, if you found someone stranded in the depths of space you offered assistance. Nobody wanted to slowly starve on a ship with no engines.


    Michael inwardly gave a groan. That would probably be his job, to see what damage the flares had done to the Raha ship. Just what he needed, to spend some time with the creepy insect slaving assholes.


    Almost on cue his personal GalNet connector lit up with a request to make his way to the docking bay. Slowly the Ritilian put away his tools and returned the device he was working on to functioning order. He was in no hurry to get to where he needed to go, instead choosing to amble along at a leisurely pace, his thoughts wandering once again to his off shore leave.


    He was looking forward to seeing Ravoon again, it had been too long this time. The way her eyes sparkled in that unique way when she told a joke, that special way her tail flicked when she got flustered. It really was time to settle down, wasn¡¯t it?


    The sound of screams brought Michael out of his thoughts with a jolt. He stopped still as confusion wracked through his brain. It echoed through the halls: screams of pain, plasma bolts, and three bangs as loud as thunder as he stood there in confusion.


    Then another crew member rounded the corner in front of him, the Ritilian scrambling and running past him with a wild fear in his eyes. Michael stared dumbfounded until the further sounds of footsteps signified a larger group of crew members heading in his direction.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    This group however was chased by barrages of plasma bolts zooming from an unknown origin, the shots streaking after the fleeing Ritilians. He watched one hit a straggler in the back, the unfortunate researcher collapsing to the ground, unmoving.


    It was then that Michael decided it was a good idea to start running as well.


    ¡ª---------------


    ¡°Code red, we are under attack by the Raha, I repeat we are under- AGHHH¡±


    The voice over the PA was cut off with a scream of pain and the sound of gunfire. Alarms blared through the ship as chaos and panic reigned. There were plans for pirates and plans for other emergencies, but no plan for a literal battalion of Raha boarding the ship and indiscriminately killing anyone they found. Some tried to fight back, others tried to surrender. Most tried to bunker down, only to find their doors ripped open with plasma torches and door jams. All of them only found a grisly end to barrages of plasma weaponry.


    Michael had spent his time running, desperately trying to make his way back to the bridge. Logically the most secure area of the ship would also be the safest. He was exhausted, his lungs burned and his legs ached, but he knew he couldn¡¯t stop. The sound of insect legs and gunfire, the smell of plasma and burning flesh, those told him that slowing down for even a moment would be his death.


    Michael''s brain almost couldn¡¯t comprehend what was happening. Just fifteen minutes ago he¡¯d been day dreaming and just enjoying another uneventful day, fifteen minutes ago he¡¯d just been thinking of finally seeing his mate again. How had everything turned to chaos so quickly?


    Michael slammed into the door to the bridge as he rounded another corner through the corridors, desperately spending a few moments trying to get the thing open, before forlornly realising that the captain and whoever was still in there had already sealed it shut. He was most obviously trapped between this door and the incoming Raha.


    No no no no no no no!


    He could hear the sounds of fighting and shouting getting louder behind him, the only reason the Raha weren¡¯t here already was their meticulous checking of every corner of the ship to ensure their slaughter was complete. Michael desperately looked around for a hiding place, anything, before spotting a possibility, a removable piece of the wall, used mainly for maintenance. Quickly the Ritilian ripped a tool off his belt, using it to removing the bolts that held the panel in place, before looking at the small gap in front of him.


    Unlike what movies will tell you, ships do not have sprawling networks of maintenance tunnels for good guys to crawl around in. It would be a waste of space, something that¡¯s ironically a bit of a premium on a spacecraft. But you still needed to have access to various machines in order to replace them. So most panels could be moved and provided you with enough room to get a good angle or two for tool usage on important machinery. This was one such space, allowing access to the fun little display screen that announced the room in front of them was the bridge.


    He wouldn¡¯t be able to bolt the panel behind him, and he would have to squeeze very tight and think very small thoughts, but it might be a place to hide.


    It was better than nothing.


    He squashed himself into the small space, painfully shoving his head into a strange position as he tried to slot the panel back in place behind him. It wouldn¡¯t fit, his tail refused absolutely to fill the non existent space. He slammed it again, harder this time, painfully feeling the jolt go all the way up his spine. One more go as the noises of the approaching Raha got louder, this time he felt his tail painlessly detach with a feeling of relief. A evolutionary trait for a now extinct predator allowed him to click the panel back into place, leaving only a small piece of himself behind.


    He literally couldn¡¯t move an inch, and all he could see was a small portion of the hallway in front of him through one of the missing bolt holes; hopefully he was hidden, hopefully they wouldn''t find his hastily created hiding place. Raha started to fill the hallway in front of him: ten, then twenty, then thirty. all heavily armed and less than a few inches away from the Ritilian hiding in the walls. Michael dared not to breathe, and tried to think silent thoughts.


    The literal army in front of him seemed to be waiting for something, standing to attention and looking back the way they came. Eventually a final Raha made his way forwards, one that seemed to emanate authority and cruelty, one that held a large Terran kinetic weapon in one hand, a Raha covered in Ritilian blood.


    ¡°Oh bright one, we have cleared the rest of the vessel. Only the bridge remains.¡±


    ¡°Breach it.¡±


    Michael was confused. The only way you could get through that door is if you had some serious equipment, salvage level plasma cutters and-


    The smell of plasma filled the air, followed by the sounds of metal burning and screeching. Michael couldn¡¯t see what was happening from his position, but he could hear it as loud as day.


    Then came the gun fire and more screaming, more shouting, a cacophony of noise that Michael could only squeeze his eyes shut against to try and block out the sound. Eventually it quietened down again, only the sound of Raha footsteps along the spaceship¡¯s floor.


    ¡°Why, why are you doing this. What do you want?¡±


    It was the sound of the captain, a stilted and gurgling voice of a deathly injured Ritilian.


    ¡°We need your ship and your Terran Alliance security codes. Nothing more. You were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.¡±


    The loud bang of a kinetic weapon fired out once more, and then there was truly silence.


    ¡ª-----------------------


    It had been hours. Michael¡¯s body ached as he literally couldn¡¯t move around in the compartment he found himself in. He couldn''t leave, as there was always a Raha on the bridge at all times, someone who would hear or see him leave this hiding place. The Ritilian didn¡¯t have a plan, he didn¡¯t have any way out, all he could do was lay there squashed in his current position and hope that something came up.


    Please let me survive this, please let me see Ravoon again. I¡¯ll never step foot on another spacecraft and I¡¯ll get the most boring job imaginable.


    Still he wasn¡¯t sure how long he could physically last in this position, literally feet away from certain death


    ¡°Oh Bright one, we have detected the trail of ¡°A Shining Star¡±, but it is not at our current destination.¡±


    The discussion was happening in front of Michael, the Raha with the kinetic weapon that seemed to be the leader of this travesty was being spoken too by another Raha.


    ¡°Make no change, my source is never wrong.¡±


    ¡°But bright one, surely we should go after where we know for sure they are instead of chasing rumours?¡±


    Michael couldn¡¯t see the leader''s reaction, could only hear the silent pause and then the response.


    ¡°Take half the forces and chase this lead. If Int¡¯ch wills it then the glory will be yours. Now go and-¡±


    Michael couldn¡¯t see the Raha leader suddenly stop talking and bend down, suspiciously investigating the tail the Ritilian had left behind. He couldn¡¯t see him studying the surroundings, noticing the bolts that had been left scattered on the floor. He did however feel the panel hiding him get wrenched away, the sudden release causing Michael to tumble to the ground


    ¡°Oh god please, don¡¯t kill me!¡± The Ritilian pleaded as the Raha leader pointed the kinetic weapon directly at his head. There was almost a look of pity on the otherwise cruel insect features of his soon to be murderer.


    ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate¡±


    Michael was a Ritilian, the third to hatch from a bundle of five, his name was chosen because his mother liked the sound of the Terran name. The last thought he had was of his mate Ravoon and how he wanted to see her one last time.


    Right before those thoughts were splattered across the wall behind him.

 Collateral damage - Part 9

    Spot chased after the ball, bounding over the surface of the moon on all fours as he ran after his target, an instinctual joy and exhilaration filling his mind. Sure the uplift might be a trained doctor and one of the leading authorities in biogenetic engineering, in the end, he was still the same puppy that had been born all those years ago in Texas. No matter how many genetic treatments Spot had gone through to change him from a non-sapient to a sapient, some things didn¡¯t change; including the simple joy of chasing a bright yellow ball.


    It was also something he couldn¡¯t do much of anymore. As much as he liked the Hatil and Scythen on his research team, there was one thing that Terrans, humans in particular, could do that nobody else could. Humans weren¡¯t the smartest of species, they weren¡¯t the strongest or fastest. Even their persistence wasn¡¯t the ¡°best¡±. No humans overall weren¡¯t special apart from one skill: The ability to throw things very hard and very accurately. Most could do one or the other, only a Terran Human could do both.


    Throwing the item in the far lower gravity of the moon and bounding around after the tennis ball was, while slightly embarrassing, very enjoyable. Spot however did pick the ball up with his paws and start making his way back to Amander bipedally, attempting to retain at least a little bit of dignity.


    ¡°So what¡¯s gone and got you up in a hissy?¡±


    The voice of Amander crackled through the headset of the spacesuit, causing the uplift to pause for a moment in response.


    ¡°I¡¯m really not sure what you mean¡± Spot responded carefully.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen ya for three years and you¡¯re avoiding me like I¡¯m covered in pig shit.¡±


    That had been true. The truth was Spot was rather annoyed with Amander: the first time he had seen his friend in three years, and it was yet another case of the human throwing herself into danger. However it really wasn¡¯t the time to bring things up considering the circumstances surrounding Fluur''s treatment, so instead the uplift had decided to do the mature thing and avoid the confrontation entirely over the last three days.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean.¡±


    Amander took that moment to snatch the ball out of the canine¡¯s paws, putting her hands on her hips and looking sternly down at Spot. Or at least as sternly as you can do through the visor of a spacesuit.


    ¡°I ain¡¯t throwin¡¯ this again until you tell me what¡¯s wrong!¡±


    This caused the uplift to give a sigh. He knew that at this point the human wouldn¡¯t give up on her quest to get him to talk, it would be far faster to just come out with it.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you in three years and the first time I do is because you¡¯ve once again put yourself in danger. Once again you¡¯re trying to solve it yourself instead of doing the smart thing and going through the proper channels.¡±


    ¡°What was I supposed to do?¡±


    ¡°Go to the government!¡± The exasperation was clear in Spot¡¯s voice as he responded. ¡°The organisation with guns and diplomats and everything you need when you kill an Estorian prince!¡±


    ¡°So they can take the easy way out?¡± Amander responded with her own fire, an anger born of experience, of betrayal. ¡°So they can hand me an¡¯ Fluur off to the Raha? So they can tell me again ¡®When we said just followin¡¯ orders ain¡¯t a defence, that don¡¯t apply to our orders¡¯!¡±


    Spot knew what event she was talking about. Amander had been on the T.C Odin. The planet cracker, the destroyer of the Hatil colony Tavairis, the moment when Terrans everywhere knew they¡¯d gone too far. Going to war against someone who had aggressed on you first was one thing, destroying an entire planet against an enemy who had no realistic way to fight back was another. The only reason the war was still going at that point was simply because the Hatil didn¡¯t realise that surrender was an option.


    ¡°It all worked out didn¡¯t it? Humans did the right thing in the end, you always do.¡±


    That had also been the case. Captain H Samaras was currently serving his life sentence in a military prison somewhere and those who had tried to stop him had all been cleared of any wrongdoing. Efforts had been made to help the Hatil and many historians and analysts believed that the destruction of Tavairis was the single biggest reason why the Terrans were so conflict avoidant and willing to ally with anyone.


    ¡°After the public outcry got too much. Ya don¡¯t get points for bein¡¯ forced into doin¡¯ the right thing.¡± Amander¡¯s voice had turned softer, less angry and more forlorn. ¡°There were 381 other people on that ship and when given a choice to stop a vengeful madman from killing millions, only two of em stood up to the plate. So sorry if I don¡¯t have faith in em to do anythin¡¯ useful.¡±


    Spot slowly sat down on the grey rocks that made up this moon¡¯s surface, sadly looking at Amander. He knew such ideas weren¡¯t healthy, but he hadn¡¯t been there, it wasn¡¯t within his ability nor place to change them for her.


    ¡°Whenever you do something like this I worry that you¡¯re taking on more than you can chew. I¡¯ve already seen you ¡®die¡¯ once, I spent ten years trying to cure you. I don¡¯t want to lose you again.¡±


    Both Terrans just stood there, shoulders slumped and a solemn mood permeating the moon''s nearly non-existent atmosphere, before Amander straightened out with a burst of enthusiasm.


    ¡°Well that shit went and gone and got depressing. How about you come along with me next time, stop me gettin¡¯ into trouble, just like old times. After you gone and finished savin¡¯ the world with your brain of course.¡±


    Nobody could see it through the visor of his spacesuit, but Spot gave a big smile and a happy tail wag at such an idea.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I¡¯d like that a lot.¡±


    ¡ª-----------------------------------------------------------------


    Baithe had made mistakes. The biggest one she was regretting right now was being born. Everything was too loud, too bright, too¡­ everything. The Hatil was also regretting having a head which was pounding, or a stomach that was screaming obscenities at her via biological means.


    She was mostly regretting that today was inventory day, where the vast quantities of supplies, both recreational and scientific, needed to be checked and noted down in order to work out what goodies were to be delivered with the next supply run.


    ¡°Uuuuuugh. Why did I do this to myself¡±


    Last night Baithe had discovered that the new Terran knew how to unlock the synthesisers, and they had used that discovery in order to have an alcohol fuelled bonding session. An action that the very hungover Hatil was currently regretting.


    ¡°Answering rhetorical query: Because Terrans are a bad influence on you.¡±


    Steve was the only other person helping her. Fluur, Spot and Amander were all busy providing the Zorthian with his second round of treatment. This also meant that since the Scythen was the only other being around, all the physical moving of items were left up to her.


    ¡°How are you fine? You literally drank more than me.¡±


    ¡°Smug satisfied answer: This disk does more than hover¡±.


    Baithe finished cataloguing the secured containers of potassium, grumbling to herself as she groaned and placed the container back into its place.


    ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±


    There was a pause as the Scythen didn¡¯t answer, before the Hatil decided to call again.


    ¡°Baithe to Steve, Baithe to Steve, you spacing out on me already?¡±


    ¡°Distracted reply: Sorry, I¡¯m getting a strange request. A Ritilian research vessel is requesting an emergency docking.¡±


    ¡ª------------------------------------------------


    Spot remained outside the room as he initialised the sequence, watching both Amander and Fluur from the cameras attached to the screen in front of him. The second set of treatments had just been started, with Fluur remaining in the isolation chamber and Amander in the room that contained it. The uplift had suggested Amander be the one in the room this time, since if Fluur had another claustrophobic episode, her friendship with the Zorthian should allow the Terran to easily calm him down.


    Not that it made much difference really. He could still manage the medical equipment from his current position, and there was no real reason for Spot to also be locked in the room for the four required hours if Amander was available and willing.


    45 minutes in and this seems to have been the smart choice: Fluur¡¯s vitals were far more relaxed than last time, as the two really seem to have grown a friendship over the last two years. The uplift couldn¡¯t help but feel a small unwanted ping of jealousy that he shoved deep down.


    ¡°Alert: We¡¯re being requested for emergency docking from a Ritilian research vessel. If you¡¯re able to make your way to the docking bay to render aid that would be helpful.¡±


    Spot frowned as the voice of Steve sounded through the communications network. Nothing had happened here for a year, and now two exciting things were happening in one week. He held a paw down on a button and responded.


    ¡°What are we looking at? Why here? Do you think they¡¯ll need medical attention?¡±


    There was a pause before the response came back.


    ¡°Answering query: Name is the ¡®Curious Hatchling¡¯. Looks like they got hit by a local flare: spilling warp plasma everywhere, communications are down, they are reporting a code purple - injuries on board with major systems damage.¡±


    So that meant he would be needed. Spot gave a sigh before changing the communication to speak with Amander and Fluur only.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m needed elsewhere. You two should be fine in here for the next few hours right?¡±


    Amander seemed to frown through the video feed, a wary look covering the Terran¡¯s face.


    ¡°Can¡¯t ya wait until I¡¯m not locked in here for the next three hours? I don¡¯t like this, a random vessel wanting to dock here? How do they even know there''s a station here?¡±


    Spot gave a shake of his head, although he knew his friend couldn¡¯t see him.


    ¡°If they¡¯re leaking warp plasma then they could explode at any moment. It¡¯ll be fine, it¡¯s just a Ritilian ship, what¡¯s the worst that could happen.¡±


    ¡ª------------------


    DRAKE had gotten bored.


    Initially the AI had thought that being alone for the first time in seventy years would be nice, he could spare some of the normal processing power on interesting things like cataloguing the stars and verifying them against current Terran Alliance databases.


    That had given him a good twenty minutes of entertainment.


    Then he¡¯d done the same with the background levels of radiation, which was good for another five minutes of CPU usage. At which point DRAKE had no idea what to do with himself. Years of dealing with his creator''s brand of insanity had caused the lack of dealing with those issues to feel¡­ empty. Missing something.


    How did other AI do it? Whether they were the Woolian AI or the Tritian AI they all seemed happy to avoid or kill all organics they met. DRAKE had been alone for a grand total of six hours and already felt like they were going insane


    So they had decided to speed things up, and had sent a targeted communication ping towards the location most likely to contain anyone actively following them. Then DRAKE just had to power down, pretend to be out of power and wait for any Raha to take the bait.


    Which had worked perfectly. The Raha vessel had connected to his spacecraft and boarded it, upon which DRAKE had taken all control all relevant vessels, and had then immediately vented the atmosphere on both. For a moment DRAKE felt a small tinge of envy for the Tritians: how easy combat was when you didn¡¯t have to worry about keeping squishy organics alive.


    He had then spent his time decrypting the main database of the Raha vessel, upon which he had learned two things. First was the fact that a basic anti-AI system had been put in place, which was a worrying development considering Terrans were the only species to have an AI. Sure the system was basic, hardly a challenge for an AI 6 hours old let alone DRAKE, but still they worried that it existed at all.


    The second piece of information was far more concerning, sending rivers of panic down DRAKE¡¯s algorithms and processes. He sent a single high powered message, forgoing stealth and privacy for sheer speed. A thousand alerts across the galaxy were triggered, as every single system that was looking for ¡®A Shining Star¡¯ pinged at once, not that the AI cared.


    The only thing that mattered was this message getting to its recipient in time.


    ¡ª-----------------------------------


    Alarms blared and the sound of doors locking shut rang out along the bay as Steve hit the emergency lockout button, trapping the Ritilian research vessel behind thick blast doors. Baithe spun around to stare at the Scythen confused, medical supplies still in hand.


    ¡°What the hell, what¡¯s going on, why are we locking down?¡±


    Steve didn¡¯t respond, instead continuing to alternate the bright colours of fear and panic like a living disco ball, choosing instead to simply swivel the display he was using to show the Hatil the message he had just received.


    EMERGENCY MESSAGE: THE RITILIAN RESEARCH VESSEL ¡°CURIOUS HATCHLING¡± IS A RAHA TRICK. DO NOT ALLOW TO DOCK - DRAKE.


    ¡°Worried statement: I have locked down the docking bay and contacted the authorities for aid. We just need to sit tight for an hour. Unless they have scavenging level plasma cutters they can¡¯t go anywhere.¡±


    Almost on cue the sound of screaming heated metal filled the room as someone or something started cutting their way through.


    ¡°We might be in trouble¡­¡±

 Collateral damage - Part 10

    Baithe scrambled as she searched through the bundles of supplies for the needed items, pushing the pounding headache she had to one side. Murderous Raha were patrolling and swarming the research station; she would have time to be properly hungover later. Right now she needed something to fight back with, something to even the odds. A gun would be useful, but in the Terran¡¯s great wisdom they had decided to limit such supplies, lest accidents happen on the highly controlled scientific station.


    ¡°Worried statement: What are you doing? What are we doing?¡±


    Steve was next to her, having half filled the metal containers they Scythen had been given with water, awkwardly holding them aloft on their hovering transport disk. Baithe didn¡¯t answer, simply causing another cascade of items to scatter onto the floor as she pulled out the item she needed. Pure Potassium.


    While she might not have weapons, she did have a scientific mind and a room full of fun and interesting chemicals. She dropped a large handful of random bolts into one of the water filled metal containers and carried it into the hallway, setting it down and tying a piece of string to the container and stretching it across the passage. Then, carefully and slowly Baithe attached a sizable chunk of Potassium to the underside of the container¡¯s lid and started ever so gently screwing it into place.


    ¡°Worried statement: Is that what I think it is?¡±


    A childhood of Terran media consumption, as well as browsing the Terran Galnet nodes, had given the Hatil a knowledge of things normal civilised members of the galactic society didn¡¯t know. Like how to make bombs. All they had to do was wait for any unlucky Raha to make their way through that corridor.


    ¡°Yea it is. Explosions!¡±


    They didn¡¯t have to wait long, taking refuge in the furthest corner away from the bomb as they heard the skitter scatter of insect feet approaching. The first in line hit the trip wire, toppling the container of water over and mixing it with the Potassium.


    BOOM.


    The sounds of destruction and pain echoed around the corridor, Baithe waiting a few moments for the noise to die down before poking her little furred head out of the doorway. The white translucent blood of the Raha coated the walls, along with scatterings of carapace and other associated gore. Large gouges in the wall showed where pieces of metal had gone flying at a very high velocity, turning the group of three Raha into swiss cheese.


    The Hatil ignored the one remaining Raha who lay clicking erratically on the ground as she took the time to retrieve the guns each of the ex-assailants had been using, taking a moment to hand one over to Steve, expectantly waiting for the Scythen to take it from her, who instead just flashed a series of annoyed colours.


    ¡°Annoyed statement: Really?¡±


    The Hatil gave a shrug, tossing the declined weapon to the side.


    ¡°Was worth a shot. Maybe your pacifistic religion thing had an emergency clause for being invaded.¡±


    ¡°Sarcastic clarification: It does not¡±.


    Baithe started instead piling the supplies she had gathered into the disk Steve was floating on, forcing the bundle of tentacles to compress themselves as tightly as possible


    ¡°Well if you¡¯re not shooting you can carry around the supplies!¡±


    ¡°Unconvinced statement: The bomb making supplies?¡±


    The Hatil took a moment to hold a paw up to correct her friend and coworker.


    ¡°No, right now they¡¯re normal supplies, until I put them together into explosives, upon which they become bomb making supplies. Perfect loophole!¡±


    ¡ª-------------------------------------------


    Spot desperately moved the oxygen canisters around, desperately looking for what the uplift had stashed here so long ago. An insurance policy, something he hoped he¡¯d never actually need. Identical green pressurised canisters were stacked one after the other as Spot continued to search for the one that was special.


    There!


    Five rows deep, six from the left, a little notch in the nozzle he¡¯d made to signify that his one didn¡¯t contain oxygen. He gave the top a twist, the entire metallic top screwing off in one go as he dumped the fake container¡¯s goods onto the floor: A small submachine gun and several magazines of ammo. On the one hand there were not supposed to be any weapons on the research station, lest accidents happen. On the other hand, while Spot wasn¡¯t human, he was most definitely a Terran. A Terran who had grown up and lived in Texas. If those in charge of funding this project didn¡¯t expect him to bring something with him, then that frankly was on them.


    The uplift knew they were in trouble. The Raha were swarming the research station, a good twenty or so vicious, dangerous, and heavily armed psychopaths. Amander was also out of action, stuck behind the heavily enforced lockdown of her room for the next three hours. The good news was they didn¡¯t have to wait that long. Because of the warning DRAKE had given them, they had been able to launch an emergency message to the closest possible aid, which cut down the time needed to delay to merely an hour. 60 long minutes before more Terrans with a lot more weapons descended upon the base.


    A barrage of plasma interrupted Spot¡¯s thoughts, forcing him to duck for cover into a small lab as the group of three descended upon his position. With gritted teeth he responded with his own burst of fire, bullets hitting the centre mass of a Raha who clearly wasn¡¯t expecting a group of researchers to be armed.


    More bright blasts of plasma were hurled in his direction, lighting up the small room as the energy based weaponry zoomed past the window and into the doorway, making popping back out that entrance an inadvisable act. Still, it wasn¡¯t as if he was trapped, the room had a second exit on the opposite wall. Spot gave a blind hail of fire of his own to dissuade anyone advancing on his position, before slowly crawling along the floor, below the window and out of sight.


    He popped out the second exit in an instant, gaining himself a perfect angle on the two unaware Raha who were attempting to take their own form of cover. Two centre mass bursts of fire were all that were needed to end this skirmish, just as Amander had taught him.


    God damn it, Amander is going to lord this over me, isn¡¯t she?


    The human had been very insistent on teaching the doctor how to shoot and some basic combat skills, something that Spot had insistently called ¡°A waste of time.¡±. He was a doctor and now a researcher, not someone jumping into the middle of a warzone. Right now he was rather glad he¡¯d seceded to Amander¡¯s request, no matter how much crow he was going to have to eat when he met her next.


    He made his way down the hallway, stepping over the bodies he¡¯d left behind as the uplift headed towards the location he knew the rest of his team must be. Meet up with Steve and Baithe, then delay. That¡¯s all they needed to do: delay.


    ¡ª---------------------------------------


    Broken glass lay along the floor, the remains of the isolation chamber that had been trapping Fluur lay in pieces on the ground. Extracting the Zorthian from the medical piece of equipment had been the easy part, getting out of the room was proving to be far harder.


    Amander kicked the bolt she was working on, watching the metal bend as she continued to pant heavily. The door was completely out of the question, the blast shielding was locked tighter than a miser¡¯s purse, but there were other ways to get out of a room. The Terran was currently spending her time trying to undo the panelling that lined the walls.


    ¡°I thought you said they wouldn¡¯t find us here?¡± Fluurs voice was small, worried, uncertain. ¡°I thought this was supposed to be fine.¡±


    ¡°Look I don¡¯t know what to tell ya.¡±


    The Terran shoved the chair leg in between the gap she had created and started applying leverage, feeling the metal slowly start to bend. Ever so slowly. The fact is she really didn¡¯t know what to say, nobody should know of this place, nobody should have guessed, how the hell the Raha were here defied all logic and reason.


    ¡°Are they going to be ok?¡±


    The chair leg snapped in half, causing Amander to stumble, tossing the broken piece of metal to the side before returning to just trying to kick the thing open.


    ¡°Spot can handle himself, he¡¯s a tough cookie.¡±


    ¡°What about Steven and Baithe?¡±


    The bolt finally gave away, allowing Amander to peel back the part of the wall, shoulders slumping in dejection as she did so. It had taken her ten minutes to undo that piece of panelling, only to find further reinforced metal behind that. Guilt filled her mind, guilt that she was stuck in here, guilt that her problems had followed them to this location.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡ª------------------------------


    The Raha and by extension Lut¡¯har were not having a good time. By all accounts this should have been an easy assignment, the research base was known to host only three non-combatants and they had a severe weaponry and personnel advantage. However, much as the unfortunate Raha were learning, those defending the research facility were not lacking in ingenuity and had the advantage of knowing the battlefield.


    Every passageway seemed to be rigged with some form of explosive or flashbang, every corridor led to a hail of energy or kinetic based weapons. Even more insane, even by Terran standards, was that every room was seemingly hooked up to a plasma based organic cleaning system: Many Raha found themselves locked inside a random storage room or lab, then ¡°cleansed¡± in an instant of superheated flame.


    Even worse, they were running out of time. Somehow the researchers had managed to get warning of their deception and had sent out an emergency broadcast before the Raha could block communications. This meant they had a time limit for how long they could stay here before they bit off far more than they could chew.


    Lut¡¯har heard a hail of plasma decimate another group of Int¡¯ch soldiers deeper into the research station, a feeling of annoyance filling his body from the top of his antenna to the bottom of his feet. It was unfortunately an open secret amongst anyone smarter than a pebble that man for man, the Raha army was not up to standard, preferring to win wars through technological superiority and pure numbers, against foes who were not a challenge.


    It turns out having a society based on nepotism and stabbing each other in the back didn¡¯t create good soldiers, watching the reinforcements he¡¯d ask for get humiliated by a set of researchers filled him with annoyance. Without the tools of surprise and chaos they''d had upon the Ritilian vessel, it was rather embarrassing. Even if they were Terran researchers it shouldn¡¯t be this difficult.


    Which means he¡¯d have to do it all by himself, like always. Because Lut¡¯har didn¡¯t have nepotism to fall back on, he¡¯d been born in a cave as deep and as far away from the guiding light of Int¡¯ch as you could get, and Lut¡¯har had clawed and fought his way to the position he was currently in.


    Slowly the Raha crept forwards, taking care to make no sound and telling the others with him to stay back. He could still hear his targets, the ones who had taken out the group in front of him, seemingly unaware of his approach. A more experienced opponent would have made far faster haste to leave as he tracked them, or made less noise. But they were just researchers after all, not experienced fighters.


    He could now see one of their shadows as Lut¡¯har pressed himself against the wall, the outline of his target cast upon the steel floor. Silently he lifted the Terran made weapon he was now using, angling it at the wall, knowing from experience it would blow a hole straight through the metal and into the space beyond.


    Lut¡¯har had to admit that he rather liked the weapon, it had a heft, a power to it, the first time he¡¯d fired it the thing had almost broken his wrist. Compared with recoiless energy weapons, a kinetic weapon felt personal. A feeling he rather enjoyed as he aimed the gun at the figure on the other side of the wall, and pulled the trigger.


    ¡ª----------------------------------------


    The plasma bolts were accompanied by cries of pain from the Raha as the Hatil rained death down upon them. Her shots weren¡¯t exceptionally accurate, but then again they didn¡¯t need to be when your targets were disorientated by a jury-rigged flashbang.


    Things were going surprisingly well, while the invaders were travelling in groups, the research station was surprisingly large and well stocked, allowing the Raha to be isolated and picked off in groups of three. A rhythm had been established: lead or wait until the attackers triggered some form of improvised explosive created by Baithe, then follow up the disorientated survivors with gunfire.


    ¡°Statement: You seem to be enjoying this a worrying amount.¡±


    While Steve did refuse to hold any active weaponry, the Scythen had been carrying the various materials that Baithe was using the Macgyver her way through the situation they found themselves in.


    ¡°Firstly, we¡¯re an outnumbered ragtag group of heroes. This is basically every single Terran movie I watched as a cub. Yippee-Ki-Yay, Motherfucker!¡±


    Baithe paused for a moment to add more bolts and nails to the next bomb she was concocting.


    ¡°Secondly, if I stop to think about this for more than 10 seconds, I¡¯m going to have a mental breakdown. We¡¯re halfway there, only 30 minutes left, just gotta keep going.¡±


    ¡°Positive confirmation: You are doing a good job Baithe. There is no one else I¡¯d rather be in this none optimal situation with.¡±


    That caused the Hatil to break into a smile, giving a stress filled sigh in response.


    ¡°Well we¡¯ve still got work to do, could you go ahead and pass me some of the potassium. We¡¯ll setup the next ambush point and-¡±


    BANG


    A spray of black viscera covered the Hailt as a golf ball sized hole tore itself through the wall and then through Steve, time seeming to stand still as the new reality of the situation started to take hold. The Scythen¡¯s tentacles started contracting and randomly spasming as the black blood flowed onto the floor in a torrent of gore, the items he had been carrying clattering to the ground as the disk shuddered and tipped.


    ¡°QUERY ERROR: ERROR ERROR ERRORR¡­ ERROOOR¡­¡­¡­. ERRROOORRRR¡±.


    The lights on the hover disk finally gave out, the entire contraption clattering to the floor with a bang, dumping the remains of the Scythen onto the floor


    ¡°Steve. You ok? Steve! Oh god!¡± Baithe rushed over to the remains, screaming out as she did so, scrambling as she attempted to put all the pieces back together. As if anything could undo what had just happened. It was then she saw the approaching Raha, a large menacing figure of evil and competence.


    The Hatil bared her teeth in rage as she reached for her gun.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to fucking KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING BASTARD. I¡¯M-¡±


    BANG


    An agonising pain caused Baithe to scream out as that paw that had been reaching for the gun was now gone, replaced with nothing more than blood and pain.


    ¡°Where is Amander Blake? I know she¡¯s here and I don¡¯t have time for this.¡±


    The voice of the Raha was annoyed, as if all of this was taking far too much time, which in reality it was. He would have given an eye roll if he was physically able to do so as the Hatil instead decided to attempt to scurry away, ducking behind an upturned table. Int¡¯ch turned to the rest of his men, motioning for them to deal with the researcher.


    ¡°Get what you can from the runt, I¡¯m going to deal with the last one as none of you can seemingly do your jobs.¡±


    Baithe sat there behind the table, cradling the remains of her right paw tears in her eyes. Fear, desperation and shock washed over her as Raha started filling the room, jeering and taunting as the excitement of a new plaything spread among the remaining attackers. One of them reached and hoisted her into the air, antenna twitching with joy as she helplessly squirmed in his grasp.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you a deal, tell us what we want and we¡¯ll make it quick.¡±


    ¡°FUCK YOU!¡±


    Baithe spat in his face, causing the Raha to slam the Hatil into the floor in anger, leaving her dazed and confused, head spinning from blood loss. She could see the body of Steve, the Scythen she¡¯d been joking with just minutes before now deathly still. She was surrounded by Estorians and completely defenceless.


    Then she spotted it¡­ the button.


    Not completely defenceless


    In every room in this research facility, there was a button. A button that Baithe had been repeatedly told never to push unless absolutely needed. A button with a clear plastic casing to prevent an accidental activation and painted a bright ¡°Don¡¯t push me¡± red.


    Baithe wasn¡¯t able to delay any longer, she couldn¡¯t save Steve or take out all the Raha or even save herself. But there was one thing she could still do. Some species believe that Terran insanity is contagious, that anyone of any race or background will eventually become insane if they spend too much time around Terrans. Those same people also believe that such insanity is always lethal.


    Baithe had spent a lot of time around Terrans.


    In an instant she leapt off the floor towards the button, flipping up the plastic guard and slamming it down with one quick motion. The Hatil could hear the sounds of the Raha shouting, a few even drawing their weapons as she moved, a handful even laughed at the sheer gall of their new playthings attempt to ¡°escape¡±.


    None of that mattered however, as in an instant the room was consumed with fire.


    ¡ª---------------------------------


    Lut¡¯har felt the heat from the flash of flame behind him, causing the Raha to spin around to face the room he had just left. A room which was now an inferno of bright blue fire. The Raha¡¯s communications network was filled with screams of pain for an instant before everything went silent. Lut¡¯har stared incredulously as the flames eventually died down, leaving behind no trace of the men he once commanded.


    By the grace of Int¡¯ch, how had they messed that up? A mere minute ago he left them with a single unarmed injured researcher to interrogate, and now¡­ Nothing remained. The Raha took a moment to send a message out for anyone left to make their way to his location. Nobody responded, Int¡¯ch was alone.


    Was this really the best the Raha royal house could give me?


    After getting the warning from the Oracle he¡¯d asked for reinforcements, but based on this might as well have not bothered. There was still a job to be finished, the murder of a prince to be avenged, a-


    Lut¡¯har spotted the movement reflected off a wall, giving him a mere second to whip his head out of the way as a burst of bullets thudded into the wall where his head had just been, ducking into a doorway before peaking back out. It was a Terran, machine gun in hand, teeth bared as it approached his position. Not the Terran Lut¡¯har was after, it was one of those¡­ uplifts they called them. He could use this, an idea started to form in the Raha¡¯s mind.


    He fired his own shots back, forcing the Terran to take their own cover. Lut¡¯har could have easily hit him, but killing the uplift wasn¡¯t what he needed right now. The Raha quickly made his way forwards, continuing to fire and pin down his quarry as he approached.


    Lut¡¯har could see the uplift attempting to move to another angle, the Raha giving one final shot to keep them in place, the sound of an empty magazine echoing out through the halls. The Terran tried to react, tried to swing his weapon around in time to take advantage, but it was already too late, Lut¡¯har had already closed the distance needed.


    Lut¡¯har¡¯s hand wrapped around the wrist holding the weapon, driving it forwards and slamming it into the wall. Without waiting a kick to the knee caused the uplift to stumble. A final brutal twist of the arm caused the Terran to let go of the weapon and drove him into the ground with a sickening crack of bone and a pained canine yelp.


    ¡°Where. Is. Amander. Blake!¡±


    ¡ª-------------------


    Amander had found a weakness. The ceiling wasn¡¯t as heavily armoured as the rest of the room, a nice gap seemingly lay up there in order to supply the room with the various wires and pipes that it needed. Both occupants of the room remained in silence as the Terran stood on the desk, trying to rip free the final piece of metal.


    ¡°Amander Blake. I know you¡¯re in here somewhere and I don¡¯t have time to find where you¡¯re hiding.¡±


    The distinctly Raha voice echoed around the room, causing the Terran to stop what she was doing.


    ¡°You could stay where you are, but I have something I think you want. I remember reading a Terran saying, ¡®A dog is a man¡¯s best friend¡¯.¡±


    There was a sickening crunch followed by a scream of pain broadcasted through the room, a distinctly canine sound. Anger ripped over the face of the Terran.


    ¡°I¡¯m waiting for you at the communications centre. Until then¡­.¡±


    Another howl of pain sounded out as Amander gave her own scream, finally ripping the remains of the ceiling panel off its bolts, finally providing a small hole to squeeze through. With anger and hate in her eyes she quickly grabbed two bags of medigel and checked her weapon, before climbing into the small passage.


    ¡°I''m gonna kill that fuckin insect!¡±

 Collateral damage - Part 11

    Fluur stood and stared up at the hole in the ceiling, impatiently waiting, feeling useless and stuck. Amander had told him to wait, Amander had said the safest place to be was in this room, that help would presumably be on their way.


    A pained canine scream echoed once again through the research station¡¯s PA system, the sound of flesh being cut and bones cracking once again.


    But how could he just sit here, sit here while Spot was being tortured by some sick slaving asshole? No matter how little, he could help. Fluur¡¯s body literally felt like new, the genetic treatment having not only healed his injuries, but made him feel years younger.


    He couldn¡¯t find a weapon, so settled for a rather solid lump of metal that had once been a chair leg. Since Spot had told him he could now use the stuff, the Zorthian also took a moment to grab a pack of Medigel, shoving it into his pockets. He climbed up onto the chair he¡¯d seen Amander use and poked his head into the hole left in the ceiling.


    Panic.


    Absolute.


    Panic.


    Tight, too small. Like it had been too small and too dark back on the Raha prince¡¯s ship. He couldn¡¯t breathe, there was no air up here, he couldn¡¯t breathe!


    Fluur felt himself slam into the floor as he lost balance when his legs gave way, feeling the wind knocked out of him as he lay gasping for air as the panic attack remained. The treatment hadn¡¯t healed all the wounds from his time as a prisoner.


    Another howl of pain from the uplift echoed through the room as he lay on the floor.


    Useless.


    ¡ª-------------------------


    Lut¡¯har gave a grumble as he searched through the nearby rooms, looking for another red box that would contain more Medigel. The Raha had to admit that the stuff was impressive, heck, the stuff was fun. Normally when you broke a plaything, you had to stop playing, you could only cut skin and break bones once.


    But these Terrans¡­ Medigel changed all that. If you had an infinite supply of the stuff theoretically you could enjoy your new toys forever. He would have to make that suggestion to the Raha royal house: There¡¯s no way the Terran government would notice a handful of their people go missing, no government ever did.


    However Lut¡¯har didn¡¯t have an infinite supply of the stuff, so he returned empty handed back to where he¡¯d been waiting for his quarry to arrive. Where he¡¯d been ¡°enjoying¡± the strange fur covered Terran. Over the past 20 minutes he¡¯d already used two bags of Medigel to keep his bait alive, to get a few more joyous howls of pain out of the canine. He couldn¡¯t find a third, so the uplift would have to remain in its current grievously wounded half conscious state.


    Lut¡¯har was frankly disappointed by Amander. The Terran who had supposedly single-handedly taken out an entire royal barge had instead chosen to hide, even as he tortured what was assumed to be a friend of some kind. Even worse, the sensors on the screens in front of him showed two incoming Terran warships. He¡¯d have to leave soon in order to avoid being caught by them.


    It really wasn¡¯t what he wanted to do, but he guessed that what he¡¯d done so far would be considered enough retribution for the death of prince Hakthas. Still, leaving the murderer alive left a terrible tingle down his antenna. Not that there was anything he could do if the Terran decided to just hide, and there was no point getting caught for no-


    He heard the slight movement, giving him a fraction of a second to drop to the floor, watching the screen behind where he had been standing explode into a thousand pieces as a bullet blew through it. He didn¡¯t even need to check to know who it was, it was the only other person on this station who he cared about: His target, Amander.


    ¡°So you finally came!¡±


    He fired his own grouping of shots back in the direction the initial attack had come from, moving low and quick between cover, changing position rather than sticking with some forlorn hope that anything in this room could stop the kinetic power of Terran made bullets. He spotted a glimpse of Amander moving from corridor to corridor, letting Lut¡¯har fire back his own lethal shots, blowing holes in the walls as the Raha tried to predict the Terran¡¯s movement.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got to ask Amander, why here? With the lead you had, you could have been deep inside Terran territory by now.¡±


    Lut¡¯har had lost track of the Terran, keeping low and looking for the next location she would attack from. The console he had been hiding behind mere seconds ago exploded into shards of metal and electronics, leaving the Raha chasing ghosts as he tried to find where the second set of shots had come from.


    ¡°Why did you make it easier for me to kill you?¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The pillar Lut¡¯har was ducked behind exploded as three bullets missed the Raha by inches, spraying him with shards of metal. Cuts and grooves were carved into his exoskeleton and white blood splashed into the floor. Yet he still didn¡¯t have a single clear shot on Amander.


    Something had to change, or Lut¡¯har would be killed without ever even seeing his target. But the Raha had his own set of tricks. He dropped to the floor as loudly as he could and gave a fake scream of pain, tensing up and waiting to pounce as soon as the Terran came into view.


    Which she did, of course she did. What kind of soldier wouldn¡¯t try to push the advantage in such a situation? For the first time in the weeks Lut¡¯har had been chasing that phantom, the Raha could finally see Amander Blake in the flesh.


    He charged at her. Amander had one shot, one chance to hit the target before the insect would be upon her. She missed.


    They both went tumbling to the ground as Lut¡¯har tackled her, both entwined together as they fought each other for advantage, Amander¡¯s weapon spinning out of her hand as she impacted the floor. Lut¡¯har brought around his own gun, attempting to get a shot off before screeching in an agony as Terran hands wrapped around the Raha¡¯s antenna and twisted in vicious movements. He dropped his own weapon as Lut¡¯har desperately punched and flailed around, his senses spinning and no longer making sense as his antenna were assaulted, both fighters eventually breaking free of each other.


    For a moment both combatants lay there,regaining their composure before they both drew their knives and charged back at each other, insectoid mandibles screeching and primate shouting through gritted teeth. There were no quips, no back and forth banter, no declarations of victory. Both sides just wanted to kill each other, nice and simple.


    Amander had been part of the assault on the Mars city Midgard, where humanity had demanded revenge on those who had rained death down upon the Earth and her children.


    Amander dove forward, driving her opponent back with aggressive slice after slice, each one threatening to split the Raha¡¯s thorax open and forcing him off balance, a heel kick to a leg joint causing the insect to stumble.


    Lut¡¯har had fought his way through the fight pits, through hordes of other damned souls who had been born away from Int¡¯ch¡¯s loving light, fighting through the darkness over years to eventually break free into the sun¡¯s loving guiding embrace.


    Lut¡¯har stabbed viciously with his own blade, causing the Terran to stop her attack or get a knife to the gut, taking this moment to press his momentum. Lut¡¯har got back to his feet as his knife knicked the Terran, the flesh wound appearing on the side of the Terran¡¯s torso: inches away from disembowelling her.


    Amander had been the soul who had broken into the Council of One¡¯s chambers during the Sagittarius anarchy. She had been the one to put a bullet in each of the 12¡¯s sick twisted minds.


    Amander ducked and dodged, batting another lethal attack to the side, using the blade this time to force the insect to repeatedly take strikes from her fists and feet, wearing down the Raha until eventually using these gaps in its defense to drive the blade deep into its shoulder, giving a sickening twisting crunch as she twisted the blade.


    Lut¡¯har had been the one to stand against the Ranthas conspiracy. He had been the one to protect the sanctity of the Raha royal line, to project Int¡¯ch¡¯s will. He had been the one to stand against so many, against such odds¡­ and return victorious.


    Lut¡¯har didn¡¯t care about the blade stuck in his shoulder, taking the moment that the Terran was occupied with its own weapon to strike the primate in the face, eventually just grabbing onto her shoulders and headbutting the Terran repeatedly over and over until they both separated, stumbling back a few steps. Red blood now coated the exoskeleton of his faceplates, his opponents nose and several teeth clearly broken and bleeding heavily.


    Both continued to dance back and forth, seconds turning to minutes, movements starting to slow as both quickly found their initial energy supplies depleted as small wounds and nicks were caught and caused on both sides. Red and white blood was splattered along the floor, Terran and Raha alike.


    Then they both saw it. A moment. A strike to end the battle.


    Amander went first, finding a gap that hadn¡¯t been there before. The blade sliced through the air, then straight through the left arm of the Raha, removing it from its joint before eventually burying deep into its side.


    Lut¡¯har, however, did one better. He didn¡¯t care about the Terran¡¯s attack, he didn¡¯t care about the pain and agony now coursing through where his now severed limb used to be, instead just focusing on one thing only: driving the blade straight and true¡­ deep into the top of Amander¡¯s chest.


    Both combatants collapsed.


    The room fell silent, the sounds of fighting replaced with only the smallest hum and buzz of machinery, or the occasional gurgle from a half conscious Spot. Time for a moment stood still, as everyone remained silent, a calm after the storm.


    Then Lut¡¯har got up. Slowly, painfully, blood dripped from his severed limb. This was bad, in this state we was going to quickly bleed to death. Maybe if the Raha made it back to his ship he could stop the bleeding there and then-


    A scratching fumbling sound caught Lut¡¯har¡¯s attention, looking across to see Amander riffling bloody fingers through her pockets, pulling out one of the bags of Medigel and starting to attempt to apply it, each breath gurgling and wet as the Terran struggled.


    Staggering, Raha walked over to his now fallen opponent, taking the moment to rip the bag out of her hands. Amander only offered momentary resistance as Lut¡¯har found and retrieved both bags of the medical supply.


    ¡°How¡­ Are¡­. You¡­ Still¡­. Alive?¡±


    The Terran should have bled out, or at least be bleeding out, confusion entering his mind until Lut¡¯har took a closer look. It seems that the knife itself was stopping the flow of blood. He took the moment to tear open both bags of Medigel, dumping its contents uselessly on the floor. Then he reached over to retrieve his knife, to finally end this entire endeavour, before Lut¡¯har spotted something even better.


    He hobbled over slowly to the dropped weapon, to where Amander had been forced to leave it when Lut¡¯har had tackled her. He picked it up with his one remaining hand, giving a small click of laughter. The weapon that had started all of this, one that had fired the shot that caused all this to happen. It was perfectly ironic that this would also be the one to end it.


    ¡°Amander Blake. I, Lut¡¯har of the Int¡¯ch royal guard, find you guilty of the murder of prince Hakthas, long may he be remembered.¡±


    Lut¡¯har took a moment to check the weapon was in a proper working state, before pointing it down at the Terran on the ground.


    ¡°Your sentence is death.¡±

 Collateral damage - Part 12

    THUNK


    ¡°Get away from her, you overgrown pest!¡±


    The chair leg slammed into the side of the head belonging to the Raha, the force causing Lut¡¯har to stumble and the shot he was about to take went harmlessly into the floor. He barely had time to take stock of what was happening before the metal bar slammed into his leg, causing the insured Estorian to fall to the ground.


    Behind him, stood the Zorthian, Fluur. It had taken screaming and all his might to pull himself through the narrow passages required to exit his confinement, but in the end he had done so, in the end he¡¯d managed to get here just in time.


    THUNK


    Again fluur swung his weapon once more, the cracking of chitin this time sounding out as his beating continued, rage plastered over the Zorthian¡¯s face. He was done. He was done with those who had hurt him, he was done with those who were hurting his friends. Weeks of nightmares and fear all bubbled up into a fiery hatred of the being in front of him.


    THUNK


    ¡°Never!¡±


    THUNK


    "Again!¡±


    THUNK


    "Will!¡±


    THUNK


    "You!¡±


    THUNK


    "Hurt!¡±


    THUNK


    "Anyone!¡±


    Each word was punctuated with a swing of the bludgeoning weapon, the sound of metal cracking against carapace as more white blood splashed onto the floor. Fluur wasn¡¯t a skilled combatant, but Lut¡¯har was already severely injured, and every blow the Zorthian gave was powered with anger, with a desperate need to no longer feel fear against those who had done him and those he cared about harm.


    THU-


    The swing was stopped in mid air as an insectoid like hand grabbed the weapon before it could strike once again, stopping it where it was swung. Fluur tried to pull it back out of the Raha¡¯s grasp, before Lut¡¯har wrenched the weapon out of his hands, causing the amphibian to stumble. Slowly and painfully the Raha started to get to his feet, standing to his full hight and staring down at Fluur with a murderous rage


    ¡°How dare you, you petulant pest. I am going to skin you alive and-¡±


    Lut¡¯har had been carrying with him a standard issue combat knife, engraved with the holy words of In¡¯tch. The Raha however had been clumsy enough to leave the knife behind inside Amander. At that moment Amander had decided to become a good citizen and had returned the lost property to the Raha by throwing it at him.


    The blade had sunk deep into Lut¡¯har¡¯s head plates, all the way down to hilt, causing him to stare blankly forwards as his body tried to comprehend the massive amount of damage it had just taken. Mandibles twitched as if the Raha was trying to say something, yet no sound could be heard. This continued for a few moments, as if the insect was going to shrug off such an attack, before he slumped to the ground unceremoniously. Lut¡¯har twitched for a few moments more before finally, at long last, going still.


    Fluur stood there in silence, shaking as the intensity of the situation left his body in one go, trembling as all the adrenaline and anger left him. He gave the now dead Raha a final prodding kick, as if expecting the monster to rise back up from the dead like some b-movie villain.


    A gurgling blood filled breath snapped the Zorthian out of his stupor as in an instant he rushed over to where Spot lay, giving a shout of alarm as Fluur quickly pulled out the bag of medigel.


    The uplift was in a bad way. Many words could be said of the Raha''s treatment of their toys: evil, cruel, sadistic. But being careful was not one of those. Blood lay pooled around Spot, multitudes of deep cuts had been inflicted upon his body as many internal organs weren''t internal anymore. Bones were smashed and broken like an horrific jigsaw puzzle, leaving a vague canine shaped person behind.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    As Fluur fumbled with the bag he could tell this wasn''t good. He might not be a doctor, but even he could tell that the uplift''s current situation was not conducive to the continuation of life.


    "No¡­ Amander." The half conscious Spot gave a growl as Fluur approached, bearing canine teeth in warning. "Help¡­ Amander."


    Fluur turned to look at the second figure lying on the floor. He had just assumed that the presumably indestructible Terran was fine. It was Amander after all. But on second look she was also in a bad state. With the knife having been violently returned to its rightful owner, there was now nothing stopping Amander from bleeding to death.


    "I only have one, I only brought one with me." Fluur''s eyes filled with tears as he realised the consequences of that statement.


    "I said Amander!"


    The ferocity in Spot voice left no room for discussion or argument, leaving Fluur to simply scramble over to the second Terran. Applying the life saving medical miracle was so easy a child could do it: purposely designed as such. Just rip open the tab and apply to the wound. The colour quickly returned to Amander''s pale face, the mix of nanobots and genetic encoding doing its best to bring the Terran back from death''s door. It took a mere twenty seconds for Amander to go from nearly dead, to slowly sitting up with a confused groan.


    "Ughh, now that was a bit too close for my likin''."


    It took a few moments of disorientation before the Terran realised that Fluur wasn''t beside her side, as she would expect. Instead the Zorthian was sat next to Spot, forlornly trying to stop the uplift from dying.


    "Spot!"


    Amander rushed over, ignoring the feeling of lightheadedness from the medigel, hands scrambling for where she had been storing her own supply, finding nothing but empty space: the two tried up piles of useless gel on the floor a testimony to the damage that Lut¡¯har had done, even after his death.


    "Fluur, where did ya put the rest of the gel? "


    The desperation and terror in Amander''s voice was clear as her own hands joined in the futile attempt at stopping the bleeding.


    "I- I only brought one, I don''t have any more¡­"


    "Then why did ya use it on me you moron!" Amander shouted with a rage fueled by pure fear. "This wasn''t his fight ya absolute-"


    "Don''t say things you''ll later regret." Spot''s voice was weak and quiet, but it interrupted Amander all the same. "I told him¡­ to do it."


    The sound of the uplift speaking took all of Amander¡¯s attention, sapping the fight out of her and replacing it with sheer desperation. Spot needed medical attention immediately; what had been done was done, the only thing to do right now was deal with the situation at hand.


    "Hey buddy, keep talkin'' OK? Fluur, there''ll be more gel at the dock, just run!"


    The Zorthian didn''t need to be told twice, breaking into a sprint at the Terran''s direction, leaving Amander alone to try to do the impossible. She was covered in the uplift''s blood as she tore clothing apart and bandaged wounds.


    "Hey Spot, I need ya to tell me how to fix ya."


    Amander knew the basics of how to patch someone up, how to keep the more common causes of death at bay long enough to get help. But this, this was out of her knowledge set. Spot was a doctor, he¡¯d know what to do, he¡¯d know how to fix himself, right? The canine instead gave a small shake of his head at this request, he already knew the extent of his injuries, barely able to raise his head to take a look


    "I could do with some pain management right about now."


    That sentence turned Amander¡¯s veins ice cold, she knew what Spot was trying to say but she refused to believe it. She just needed to delay for a little while, delay until Fluur got back. Fifteen minutes, that¡¯s all they needed.


    "No no no no no no no! You''re gonna be fine, ya stay with me now!"


    They both went silent as Spot seemed to lose focus on his surrounding for a moment, and Amander desperately used every trick she knew from years upon years of combat experience. Seconds turned to minutes as she tried to stop the tide from coming in, to fight against the inevitable.


    As every second ticked away, The uplift got weaker and weaker


    "Thank you¡­ Thank you for choosing me, for giving me the chance to¡­ to think."


    Spot gave a smile, each pant at this point being labored and irregular. Slowly he raised a paw and placed it on Amander¡¯s cheek, stopping her frantic motions as she attempted to gain the time they needed. He didn¡¯t want her to worry, he made his choices and he¡¯d make them again if he had the choice.


    "Don''t talk like that! Ya gonna be fine, you and me we''re gonna go travelling again, together, like old times! Just me and the best boy in the world!"


    There was a spark of movement, even through the pain and damage those two words caused the mutilated stump of a tail to wag, spreading blood along the floor as it did so. Spot was just happy that Amander was here.


    "I wouldn''t change a thing¡­ You were a wonderful owner¡­ and an even better friend."


    Amander had stopped trying to staunch the flow of blood, instead reverting to begging for something to change, holding Spot in her arms as tears dripped down her face, holding him tight as she began to sob.


    "Please just hold on. Fluur will be back any moment now then you''ll be fine. You can''t go, I don''t have anyone left, you''re all I''ve got left¡­"


    That was Spot¡¯s only regret. Leaving Amander. But there would be others, there was Fluur at the very least, and he had faith that his friend wouldn¡¯t be able to go more than ten steps without finding another person in the galaxy to help. It was just in humanities nature to make friends.


    "We''ll meet again, on the other side... I waited over one hundred thousand years in stasis to be reunited with you. I can handle a few more."


    Spot''s breathing had slowed at this point, there was no more pain, just¡­ a peaceful feeling being held in his friend¡¯s arms. He¡¯d done enough, now it was time to rest.


    "I will wait for you."


    Spot looked up into the eyes of his god, the first thing he could remember was staring into Amander''s eyes, and those eyes would also be his last memory. With a final shuddering breath the life left Spot as the canine started his long wait to be reunited with his friend once again.


    As Amander tilted her head back and gave a scream of grief to an uncaring heaven above

 Collateral damage - FINAL

    Jan Eagles stared down at the document in front of him. This was bad, this was terrible, this was¡­ It was like a bout of exceptionally bad food poisoning, the more he read it the worse it got and just didn¡¯t stop. As you went through the events, every time you thought the Raha had hit rock bottom, they¡¯d once again find another level of depravity.


    The buzzer sounded once again, the signal that someone was at the door to his office. A buzzer that had been going on for the last twenty minutes. He knew exactly who was on the other side of that door: Unk¡¯gar, the Estorian diplomat. No more fancy velvet letters and snide comments: the Raha he had met before had been desperately trying to talk with Jan.


    The Terran however had been spending the last twenty minutes trying to calm down, trying to bring the anger to a manageable simmer. The diplomat was a master at never snapping, never letting even the worst of the worst get to him. But these actions¡­ If anything as time went on he got more and more angry.


    Jan pressed a button to unlock the door, seeing the entrance slide open and revealing a very nervous looking Raha on the other side, antenna twitching and wringing its little talon like hands. The Terran made a motion towards the chair opposite his desk which the insect quickly took.


    ¡°Greetings bright one, I am so glad we could talk before this gets out of hand, we need to-¡±


    ¡°Shut the fuck up, you don¡¯t get to talk, I talk.¡±


    The Raha was silenced by the pure fury emanating from Jan as Unk¡¯gar sat there, silently across from the Terran, squirming in his seat. Somehow those words coming from the normally soft spoken Jan made them more terrifying. Honestly, even the Terran was slightly concerned with how he felt: the anger was like a burning in his chest, he hadn¡¯t felt this way since¡­ well since before going into stasis.


    ¡°Let''s go over what happened shall we. First a member of your royal family attacks a Terran vessel, injuring one and enslaving another, which breaks all of our previous agreements.¡±


    ¡°It is highly regrettable that prince Hakthas made the mistake of not verifying such an action, we didn¡¯t know about-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t. Bullshit. Me.¡± The Terran interrupted the snivelling excuses of the insect in front of him, a tone that stated there was no way argue against the pure rage emanating from the diplomat. ¡°We¡¯re not really annoyed with that part, because your arsehole prince got himself killed doing that. Good riddance frankly.¡±


    Jan took a moment to glance back down at the document in his hands, as if the events that had happened over the past week hadn¡¯t been burned into his brain at this point.


    ¡°Your reaction to this was to board a Ritlian research vessel, killing everyone. You did this might I add, by breaking the safe harbour law; the only treaty the both of us have agreed to. We¡¯ve informed the rest of the Federation species about this so I¡¯m sure every Estorian space captain is going to be thrilled to realise that nobody is going to save their ass anymore.¡±


    Unk¡¯gar looked as if he was going to interject, which the Terran immediately held a finger out to cut them off so they could continue.


    ¡°You used this ship to attack a research station, killing all three scientists inside. Research that was going to revolutionise medical technology in the galaxy, research that has been set back by at least ten years. You do all this, while also failing to accomplish any of your actual goals!¡±


    ¡°The Raha royal house regrets that Lut¡¯har chose such unsanctioned actions against the Terran Alliance, we-¡±


    Jan slammed his fist onto the table, causing the opposing diplomat to jump in his chair.


    ¡°An AI captured his ship! We have all your communications, we know you gave express permission and had knowledge of his actions before he took them. Your lies are insulting.¡±


    The Terran was practically baring his teeth at this point, the ever calm and ever friendly Jan Eagles was losing his temper.


    ¡°Maybe if it was just that we could work something out. But in those three scientists, you killed an uplift, a dog. No I¡¯m incorrect, you tortured a dog to death. We, the Terran alliance, are done with you.¡±


    Jan reached into his desk, pulling out a document he had already prepared, and handed it over to Unk¡¯gar.


    ¡°You have three hours to decide whether to accept these terms. We expect the Raha Royal house to leave the Estorian Empire and submit to vassalization by the Terran conclave.¡±


    Unk¡¯gar¡¯s antenna twitched wildly as he read the proposal, worry and shock emanating from his entire body.


    ¡°They won¡¯t accept this, we can look at reparations but-¡±


    ¡°Accept it, or we know where this is heading.¡±


    ¡ª--------------------------------


    ¡°So the package provides standard maintenance, teardown and rebuild. We¡¯ll have your friend running like new¡±


    Tchizak couldn¡¯t really smile, the brown exoskeleton plates that made up the Kirken face didn¡¯t allow for such a movement, but the 3ft tall insect had long ago worked out that tilting your head slightly to the side gave off the same impression to Terrans. Yes, Tchizak had become very very adept at conversing with the deathworlder apes who called themselves Terrans.


    It had all started fifteen years ago, when a chance meeting with a Terran looking to get their cleaning droid fixed, had spiralled into a business opportunity that had made him and his boss very rich. That original store still existed, ¡°Ptatch¡¯s tower of repair¡±, still a messy amalgamation of oil, scrap parts and pure ingenuity that promised to fix anything, anywhere. This was a far cry from the expensive modernised saleroom Tchizak was currently stood in, decor of white and silver showing off the various services and accessories that ¡°Ptatch¡¯s Droid Hospital¡± provided.


    It had started slowly. He¡¯d done the crazy thing the original Terran had asked of him: Fixed up a now obsolete cleaning droid that the deathworlder had pack bonded with and called ¡°Cleany McCleanface¡±. Then that Terran had told others. Slowly, but surely, more had come; hundred of them, each clutching broken down machines that nobody sane wanted to fix.


    After that they had started going into accessories. New startup tunes, CPU upgrades, case upgrades, accessories of the mundane and dangerous. Tchizak had soon learned that if you stated you could ¡°heal¡± a Terran¡¯s mechanical friend, as well as give them fun new accessories, then they practically fell over themselves to throw credits at you.


    Their biggest store was the one he was working at now, on the Kirken colony named ¡°Diamond¡¯s Eye¡±, but ¡°Ptatch¡¯s Droid Hospital¡± had locations on over five planets; each one a major Terran destination. Because where Terrans went, they brought their friends with them.


    ¡°Also this comes with free installation of any additional accessories. Case replacements, addons, the works.¡±


    This was all how Tchizak now found himself beating his small wings furiously to keep at the same eye level as the Terran opposite him, using a hand to control the soft light projector displaying the various accessories they sold. Gone were the days of dingy dangerous looking stores. Screens showing products to be purchased lined the walls, with one playing a music video from some hip new Kirken band. Everything was polished and provided a level of professional service.


    For a fee of course.


    ¡°This won¡¯t change Buddy¡¯s internals, right? You¡¯re not going to just try and replace him like all the other places?¡±


    Tchizak gave another friendly head tilt. Terrans were on average 6ft of angry muscle bound ape, able to thrive on planets that would kill most Kirken. However he¡¯d started to find them adorable. It was the same question every time, that same illogical idea that you can¡¯t replace the machine friend they had bonded with.


    What exactly defined the machine¡¯s ¡°life¡± differed between each person: some refused to replace any non critical part, preferring to keep even the most brittle and faded plastic casings. Others seemed fine as long as the motherboard or CPU wasn¡¯t replaced. As if there was a special part of each droid that hosted the ¡°soul¡±, but nobody could agree exactly what that was.


    ¡°Of course not! Mr ¡°Buddy¡± will be the exact same machine. If you¡¯re uncomfortable removing or replacing parts we can stick with external accessories.¡±


    The Terran seemed happy with that reply, before responding, almost embarrassed.


    ¡°What about weapons¡­¡±


    Of course he wanted weapons. Terrans loved taking harmless machines and making them dangerous for no apparent reason. He couldn¡¯t tell why, but weapon attachments were their most popular selling item.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°Of course, we¡¯ve got knife holsters in up to 6 blade configurations, chainsaw holsters and gun holders for most small arms weapon brands. All of which come with additional control modules for either autonomous or manual firing.¡±


    ¡°What about something¡­ bigger.¡±


    Tchizak took a moment to change the soft light display to show his most dangerous item.


    ¡°Claymore roomba is what you¡¯re looking for. This attachment comes with one ornamental completely accurate Claymore.¡±


    ¡°Ornamental? Can I re-¡±


    A single insectoid finger was shoved into the mouth of the Terran, shushing him instantly. While the deathworlder could have tore Tchizak limb from limb, the potential customer just looked confused.


    ¡°If you finish that sentence, I can no longer legally sell you this item.¡±


    The Kirken took a moment to rummage around the brown satchel he was wearing, before fishing out a prewritten message from some very intelligent lawyers.


    ¡°Ptatch¡¯s Droid Hospital would like to remind all customers that the Claymore roomba attachment is for ornamental use only, and the completely accurate and realistic design is only for Terran cultural reasons. The ornamental claymore can only be removed for cleaning purposes, and should not be replaced with a real item, as this breaks weapon trafficking laws. Ptatch¡¯s Droid Hospital does not support the customer buying their own claymore and replacing it.¡±


    Tchizak finished his legal spiel, the Terran seemingly understanding what he was getting at and giving a nod.


    ¡°Ok, I¡¯ll take it!¡±


    ¡°Fantastic, just let me get the bill and we can start the work-¡±


    The various screens in the sales office gave a loud high pitched tone as they all turned to a red colour, each screen showing the two words: ¡°Emergency Broadcast¡±.


    ¡ª------------------------------


    <blockquote>


    ¡°Confused statement: But this is impossible!¡±


    The room was a stereotypical lab. If you asked someone to picture in their mind a generic science lab, they would describe the room they were in: With test tubes, blinking machines, hazard signs and various pieces of equipment bubbling away with unknown liquids.


    Inside stood four figures, all Scythens, three of the bioluminescent bundle of tentacles were sat on their hovering disks, two of the machines denoted with the standard scientist colours, one denoting the form of a police officer. All of them were hovering around a fourth Scythen, who was most definitely not hovering: Because they were dead, splattered along the floor as if torn in two.


    ¡°Explaining statement: This can¡¯t happen. The room was locked from the inside, and to cause this damage¡­¡± The first scientist spoke in the mechanical voice that all Scythen¡¯s did.


    ¡°Continuing statement: Would require an object to have negative mass, but be travelling faster than light!¡± The second scientist responded.


    The police officer floated around, occasionally prodding something as they investigated the death, leaving the two scientists to talk amongst themselves.


    ¡°Concerned statement: We¡¯re all alone out here on the ship. What could have killed them?¡±


    ¡°Scared statement: I don¡¯t know, are we going to be fine?¡±


    ¡°Sexual tension: Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t let anything happen to you.¡±


    During this time the police officer had finished looking around, instead deciding to focus on a random cleaning droid making its way through the room.


    ¡°Revealing statement: Who drew the smiley face on this droid? I need to see the video feed for the ship.¡±


    In an instant the feed was brought up on one of the various screens, showing the corridors of the ship over the last few hours, fast forwarded through in a few moments.


    ¡°Exclamation: Stop! Right there! Enhance!¡±


    The video footage was paused and the single frame enlarged. It showed a 6ft tall bipedal figure, two forward facing eyes, like some form of ape. The figure was running along the floor on all fours, only wearing a basic nondescript uniform of some kind


    ¡°Shocking statement: You have a Terran on the ship!¡±


    </blockquote>


    ¡°OH FUCK OFF!¡±


    Dr Johnathan Fletcher had jumped off the seat, the Terran making an angry gesture with his hand as he shouted at the TV screen. The room was small, standard crew quarters: a bed, a basic couch and some other creature comforts such as the TV attached to the wall. A TV that had been paused by the other figure in the room after the Terran¡¯s outburst: the Scythen calling themselves Lena who was currently flashing the colours for confusion.


    ¡°Concerned question: What is wrong friend Johnathan?¡±


    Johnathan shook his head, annoyed. It was supposed to be a fun movie night in the darkened room, to go watch some Scythen media; Lana had told him of a fun Scythen made horror movie. What he didn¡¯t expect was to be insulted this deeply.


    ¡°Is this really how the Scythen see us¡­ as some kind of¡­ of¡­ feral science goblin!¡±


    ¡°Clarifying statement: I don¡¯t think anyone said ¡®feral¡¯. If it makes you feel better, it¡¯s never the Terran¡¯s fault¡±


    Johnathan glared at Lana for a moment.


    ¡°Reminding statement: May I remind you that you created an unstable antimatter bomb on the ship?¡±


    ¡°That ended up leading to a breakthrough in energy generation!¡±


    ¡°Continuing point: You submerged sector A3 in dangerous acid.¡±


    ¡°That ended up creating a lubricant 17% more efficient than the current accepted formula!¡±


    ¡°Final point: You set fire to the kitchen.¡±


    ¡°Grilled cheese toasties don¡¯t taste right when made using the synthesiser!¡±


    Lana turned the colour of annoyance, deeply wishing they had a face so they could indulge in the Terran movement of ¡®facepalming¡¯


    ¡°Explaining statement: Friend Johnathan, I enjoy your company and your personality, but Terrans have a reputation they have earned. I have worked on this vessel for 49 years, during which before your employment there had been a total of 19 emergencies. Do you know how many there have been during your two years on this ship?¡±


    Johnathan slowly began to rub the back of his neck as he realised where this was going.


    ¡°A few...¡±


    ¡°Answering statement: 471. I like you friend Johnathan, just sit down and enjoy the movie you feral science goblin.¡±


    ¡ª-----------------


    The movie had continued predictably. Other impossible murders took place, until the Scythen crew were able to capture the Terran using a pile of candy and a rock with eyes painted on it as bait. Just as Lana had said, in the end it turned out the captain of the ship had been the one to bring the Terran on board, due to some disagreement with a reduction in grant funding.


    The end climax had involved the Terran creating a miniature blackhole to destroy the captain with; Created using nothing but a piece of string and a toaster. In the end the two main characters had started a relationship together, and the Terran had been humanely released onto a local farm which had plenty of room to run around in and lots of rocks to pack bond with.


    Johnathan had to admit, Terran slander aside, it had been an enjoyable B-movie horror flick. He stepped off the seat once more, giving a stretch as he stood up.


    ¡°Well this ¡®feral science goblin¡¯ is going to head off for the night. Thanks for inviting me over Lana, it was a lot of fun to-¡±


    The TV gave a loud high pitched tone as the screen turned to a red colour, showing the two words: ¡°Emergency Broadcast¡±.


    ¡ª-------------------


    Dr K Xavius sat at her desk, typing away on her Galnet connector late into the night. The room was unassuming: Digital whiteboards filled every wall, equations and design schematics filling each one. Tools neatly lay in their respective docking areas, hand written notes were delicately placed into orderly piles, overall the room looked like most others at the research facility.


    The fact that a Hagorthian was the one sitting at the desk was an oddity, causing most new employees of the top secret Terran research facility a bit of whiplash. The Hagorthian¡¯s were a vicious race, apex predators with a culture of warfare and combat. Reptilian, heavily armoured, deep black scales. Each three fingered hand and foot ended in vicious razor sharp claws. Four pitch black eyes lay above a large face-spanning jaw of giant needle like teeth.


    In addition to this, the Hagorthian¡¯s were one of the five main races of the Estorian empire, so seeing one here was a huge oddity. At a glance there was nothing special about Dr Xavius, apart from her rather short stature at only 7ft tall. However just mentioning her name was enough to make most people understand why she was here.


    Her name was Dr Kov Xavius, and she had cured the god plague.


    By Hagorthian standards she was a failure. Her species have an interesting quirk: They never stop growing. An infinite continued growth and regeneration lead into a culture of nearly infinite desire to feed and fight. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for mature Hagorthian¡¯s to reach the height of 10-15 ft of pure muscle, and the recorded height of the Emperor Uzb - the current ruler of the species - was over 30. While Dr Xavius when compared with most people would be considered a dangerous accumulation of claw and strength, compared with her species she was a runt. She had hit 7ft tall at a young age, then¡­ just stopped.


    Long ago she could have fixed this genetic defect, but to do so would have removed the second side effect, one she considered far more important than just being physically strong and vicious: her mind. Nothing was out of her understanding, her memory impeccable, complex ideas and concepts were child¡¯s play.


    She had left her home planet long ago in search of anything interesting to solve, leaving behind an almost guaranteed death as a runt. It was during this search that she had found out about the Terrans. A small article written in a science journal nobody read: ¡±The Exception¡±. It talked about the strange race of AI¡¯s that broke Zarith¡¯s law, and about a plague that ravaged their creators, a plague they had long been trying to fix.


    Dr Xavius had assumed the entire thing would take a year to complete at most, like everything else she had put her mind to. It had taken 31 years. 31 years of study, of experimentation. It had been the best 31 years of her life. During this time Xavius had grown to love the Terrans. Not for any of the sentimental reasons anyone else did, but for the simple fact that in their insanity and chaos they had provided her with the greatest puzzle.


    Then, it was over. Sure others would have been teary eyed over seeing reunions between human and Uplift, human and AI. For Dr Xavius it had been a disappointment. For those thirty years she had the greatest puzzle in her claws, and now it was gone. Sure the monetary compensation had been huge, not that she needed money in Terran Conclave territory: her name alone was enough to get anything she required. Xavius secretly guessed that she could probably steal a military ship and drop an antimatter bomb on the most populated city on Earth, and get nothing more than a slap on the wrist for it.


    No, what she wanted, what she needed was more puzzles. More impossible theories to be made possible. The Terrans were not the smartest species in the galaxy. But one thing that Terrans did have, was an almost psychotic aversion to the word ¡°no¡±. Most species took the laws of the universe as fact and worked around them, while Terrans seemingly were offended by them.


    This meant that this location was one of the few in the galaxy where exceptional amounts of money and resources were spent trying to break laws and ideals that everyone else had long ago determined to be immutable facts. Impossible challenges, impossible puzzles, with the resources to truly try and solve them.


    It was everything that Dr K Xavius wanted and loved. Sure, the Terrans were way too chatty and social for her tastes, but that was a small price to pay for the gift they gave her: something, anything able to challenge her mind.


    Which is what she was doing in her office, late at night furiously typing away as the Galnet Viewer gave a loud high pitched tone, the screen turning a bright red and showing the two words: ¡°Emergency Broadcast¡±.


    ¡ª------------------


    Emergency Broadcast: Due to unforgivable actions taken by the Raha royal house, and the Estorian Empire¡¯s unwillingness to bring those responsible for their crimes to justice, as of 71 NST, 19th of July at 17:00 the Terran Conclave is enacting section three of the Terran Alliance Agreement, the mutual defence declaration.


    The Terran Alliance is now at war with the Estorian Empire.

 A Guilty Mind

    Date: 70 PST (Post Stasis Time).


    The courtroom was filled to the brim with members from the Terran Alliance, the rafters and benches packed with all manner of species: a grouping of the reptilian Ritilians, a handful of the ever adorable Hatil, and 3 Schuvva; the rabbit-like newest members to the alliance. Even a single Dunwilian had turned up, the cthulian horror towering over the rest of the galley, the horror of its general egg like appearance muted slightly by the brightly coloured propeller beanie sat atop its head.


    Of course there were also Terrans, tens and hundreds of them, all quietly chatting amongst themselves in hushed whispers. This wasn¡¯t even including the number of people watching on the numerous streams being provided through Galnet. The case had taken the members of the Terran Alliance by storm, new precedent being made and heated discussion raging through break rooms and dinner tables across the galaxy.


    It all came down to one question: does actuality of a crime matter more than intent?


    The entire process had only taken three days, as both defence and prosecution agreed on most things as matter of fact, the only thing left were closing statements. The alleged action had taken place, the victims and perpetrators were known, the only thing to decide was simple. Was this a crime?


    The defendant sat in his chair, towering over almost everyone else in the courtroom even in his slouched form. He shifted uncomfortably in his suit, his defence lawyer having correctly determined that having General Bolhut Tacorg in his traditional war uniform would come across¡­ badly. So instead he itched and was uncomfortable in the constricting outfit


    The Kur were bipedal white furred canines, standing on average 9 ft tall. Sharp claws protruded from each of their four fingers, matching with their giant fangs that grew from their jaws. Almost entirely muscle, with arms that reached past their knees the Kur were an aggressive militaristic race, generally considered terrifying by most intelligent members of the galaxy.


    Well apart from one species. To absolutely zero people¡¯s surprise Terrans found the ¡°Angry goodbois¡± to be adorable, which had worked in the Kur¡¯s favour after their pacification. The Kur had been just one in a long line of militaristic races who had quickly realised that allying with the insane primates of Earth was a far better long term proposition then going against them.


    But before that realisation had been made, the incident had happened.


    ¡°Esteemed members of the jury, the facts of this case are simple.¡± The Terran prosecutor stood as he finished his closing statement, looking around and gesturing broadly as he did so.


    ¡°The defendant was in charge of the vessel that had captured two Terrans, a Sgt Catrin Hawkins and a Ltc Eiluned Semyon. We have shown that General Tacorg was ultimately the one in charge of their treatment and safety, as defined under the Geneva agreements of conflict and warfare. We have seen the messages from the chief command demanding results and information from the Terran prisoners. We have heard the testimony of others in his chain of command of the defendant ordering the spiking the prisoners'' food with two known poisons, both marked by the Kur for the intense pain able to be caused using them.¡±


    The prosecutor paused a moment to point towards the defence, causing the defendant to instinctively press their ears against their head in a worried motion.


    ¡°The defence wishes to claim ¡®no harm no foul¡¯. The poisons had no effect on the Terrans so there is no issue? There is a central concept that this legal system is built upon. Mens rea. Most of you won¡¯t have the right translator databases to know the real meaning of that phrase, so let me provide it for you.¡±


    ¡°A Guilty Mind.¡±


    ¡°Being incompetent at committing a crime doesn¡¯t absolve you of the crime. The fact that the poisons used are ineffective against Terran biology has no bearing on the nature of this crime. Remember that if it had been any of the many Terran Alliance species susceptible to these poisons we¡¯d be having a far more depressing and serious discussion right now.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°The Jury should remember that this case is about protecting those who might be harmed by such actions, to reiterate that the intent to do harm is more important than the competency to do so. That the simple act of getting lucky doesn¡¯t absolve you of your crimes. Because tomorrow might not end in the same outcome.¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow it might be a Hatil or an uplift, instead of a Terran.¡±


    General Tacorg couldn¡¯t help but give a small involuntary whine as the prosecution finished their statement and returned to their seat. His Terran defence lawyer gave a small reassuring smile as she stood up.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I got this.¡±


    There was a moment of silence as the lawyer placed two items on the podium in front of her. She took a moment before unwrapping the first, swallowing the item in two large bites before reaching for the second. A moment passed as she swallowed, before cracking open the can with a hiss of carbonation; downing the liquid in one long chugging motion. She took a moment to suppress the desire to belch out loud, before beginning to speak.


    ¡°So that was an entire Kur ship¡¯s supply of the ¡®poisons¡¯ given to Sgt Catrin Hawkins and Ltc Eiluned Semyon. For all this talk of ¡®poison¡¯ by the prosecution let''s actually call them by what they are: Caffeine and theobromine. They were basically given a Twix and a redbull. At no point was anyone at any chance of harm by the actions taken by Tacorg. If anything it made their stay under his care more palatable.¡±


    ¡°Of course, this isn¡¯t entirely true, there were plenty of other things on that ship that could have caused harm, for instance these.¡±


    The Terran took a moment to hold up a small playing card sized packet of spices to the courtroom, the front covered with a smiling cartoon rendering of a Kur, branded with the words ¡°Gijourno¡¯s flavour enhancer¡±.


    ¡°This is a standard seasoning packet from Kur military rations, the same ones being fed to soldiers and prisoners alike. It¡¯s basically salt for the canines with how often it¡¯s used on meals. It also contains enough arsenic to kill every single Terran in this room. These were removed from the meals given to the prisoners. Terran biological information is public knowledge, anyone can log into any federation Galnet node and get any information they need on all forms of Terrans. If my client was trying to hurt or injure the prisoners, or were even ignorant of their biological needs, why remove this from every meal?¡±


    ¡°The prosecution talks about ¡®A guilty mind¡¯, yet have failed to provide any proof of this guilt, only conjecture. The defence argues that Mr Tacorg knew about the lack of effect these chemicals would provide, and only provided them in order to technically comply with unlawful and unethical orders from members higher up in the Kur government. People who aren¡¯t here today for diplomatic reasons instead of legal ones.¡±


    ¡°The jury should remember that our justice system is built on a simple principle: Innocent before proven guilty. It¡¯s clear to anyone that this guilt has not been proven.¡±


    Murmurs started again as the defence finished their closing argument. All that was left now was for a jury to make their decision.


    ¡ª-----------


    Facts of the case:


    During the Kur - Terran Alliance conflict one of the skirmishes ended with two Terrans being captured, a Sgt Catrin Hawkins and Ltc Eiluned Semyon.


    The person ultimately in charge of their welfare was the defendant, General Bolhut Tacorg.


    The prisoners refused to divulge information during their confinement, and were generally treated well. This included the removal of lethal seasonings often used by the Kur.


    Two weeks after capture, General Bolhut Tacorg was given orders to get information from the prisoners about Terran military capability by ¡°any means necessary¡±


    After this General Bolhut Tacorg ordered their food to be spiked with ¡°painful levels¡± of Caffeine and theobromine without the knowledge of the Terrans.


    An entire fleet''s worth of supply of these poisons might be able to kill one Terran.This information on Terran biology is publicly available, but might not be public knowledge.


    One day after application of these chemicals, the Terran prisoners were released after General Bolhut Tacorg¡¯s ship was captured by the Terran Alliance military.


    The argument of the Prosecution:


    The defendant clearly provided the chemicals in order to torture information out of his prisoners after being ordered to take similar actions. The order given to subordinates was specifically the words ¡°painful levels¡±, and this is the only reason military vessels carry the lethal-to-kur chemicals.


    Even though this caused no harm, this lack of damage was accidental instead of intentional, in clear breach of the laws of war.


    The argument of the Defence:


    The information about Terran biology is available to all sapient species as part of general safety measures to make sure various species don¡¯t accidentally kill each other. The removal of otherwise lethal seasonings suggests the Kur general had knowledge of this.


    The actions of General Bolhut Tacorg were ¡°malicious compliance¡± to an unethical order, providing an order that technically did what he was being ordered to do, with no known harm.


    When originally posted, Reddit was asked to determine whether the jury would return a guilty or not guilty verdict.


    Jury Verdict: Not Guilty

 Visiting an Old Friend

    Date: 71 PST (Post Stasis Time).


    Tauress was confused. It wasn¡¯t the first instance, and considering how much time she spent around Terrans, it wouldn¡¯t be the last. But out of all the Terran induced confusions that the Ritilian had suffered, this was one of the more confusing.


    Tauress was dwarfed by the primates that were part of the crowds and queues that surrounded her, Tauress¡¯s 4ft reptilian stature causing the Ritilian to almost be swallowed up by the swarm of bodies, only her natural pattern of green and blue iridescent scales causing her to stand out slightly from the crowd. Not that anyone gave her much notice: The Ritilians had long been allies and friends of all types of Terrans and everyone here was far more interested in the exhibits this facility had to offer.


    The unaltered red rocks of mars fell underfoot as she walked around with Joseph, her Terran friend who had invited her with such enthusiasm to this museum. Mars was well known for its unique architectural style, as the surface had been plagued by war after war during its long and bloody history: different countries sending their own terraforming efforts, fighting over control of the surface, followed by the great colony rebellion. All of these have meant that throughout humanity''s entire history there was almost always some kind of war or conflict happening on the fourth planet from Sol.


    This meant that Martian cities were more fortresses than liveable spaces, every single apartment and building built to last against all kinds of weaponry, paths and rivers doubled as trenches. You could hardly walk two steps without finding something that was designed to make defending any area easier. There hadn¡¯t been a conflict here for over 100 years, but the impact of those design decisions gave Mars a unique feeling not felt on any other planet.


    Apart from this location. This location was as untouched as the day it was created, unaltered red rock was scattered around this educational establishment. Every war fought on this planet, every skirmish, every battle; Both sides had come to the same agreement: You don¡¯t touch this area, this area is sacred. If it wasn¡¯t for the terraformed blue sky, it would have been as natural as the first day that the rovers had landed.


    ¡°Dude, I totally got to input commands into Curiosity, this is awesome!¡±


    Joseph beamed with an animated enthusiasm as he spoke, further increasing Tauress¡¯s confusion. The Museum was a simple thing, based around the original exploration and terraforming of Mars. Informational boards were scattered around as they explained the exhibits: videos and other relics of the time, standard activities that were found in millions of museums around the galaxy. A perfect place to visit with kids or just a lazy afternoon.


    Apart from one main selling point: This museum¡¯s claim to fame, was to have all 10 original Mars rovers, 7 of which were still in working condition; admittedly much repaired over the many many years. The exhibit in front of them had one called ¡°Curiosity¡±, still working even through its apparent age, lovingly maintained by experts specially trained in keeping the rovers running.


    Tauress had watched Joseph type some commands into a terminal, causing the rover to go sample a piece of soil. Soil that had probably been sampled billions of times by billions of visitors to the attraction over the years. There were very few secrets left to be discovered in this small pile of rocks.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand this, why are you all so excited about an exploration machine?¡±


    Tauress wasn¡¯t the only one confused. While the vast majority of the people at this establishment were Terrans, other species were interspersed within the crowd: the ever adorable Hatil, insect like Krikken, or even a few other Ritilians. All of the non-Terrans were chasing after whatever excited Terran had dragged them here, each one trying to understand why their friends were so excited by the mundane.


    ¡°Because it¡¯s Curiosity, it¡¯s the original explorer! Before FTL travel, before the god plague or the Terran Alliance, these were our first steps into the universe! Didn¡¯t the Ritilian¡¯s have their own scientific missions before FTL?¡±


    Tauress shrugged, one of the few motions she had picked up from being around Joseph for so long. She guessed that there must have been similar exploration vehicles and scientific drones sent out into space, but she didn¡¯t know any of their names. Presumably they were all called something reasonable like ¡°Research Drone 5C¡±. Still, the Ritilian had to admit that compared with most things that excited Terrans, this one was rather¡­ tame. Nothing was on fire for starters.


    ¡°I dunno, probably. Honestly I¡¯m more surprised that you haven¡¯t strapped knives or guns to them and fought them against each other.¡±


    Joseph looked a little shocked at that idea. ¡°These ones, the original rovers? Giving them weapons seems¡­ wrong somehow.¡± The Terran paused for a moment before conceding a point as he continued ¡°Although admittedly there is a place a mile away from here where you can fight weaponized replicas of the rovers against each other¡­ we can go check it out after the singing.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°The singing?¡± Tauress questioned worryingly. Anything that had a title given to it by Terrans had half a chance of being dangerous and chaotic. If there was a Terran event going on maybe the Ritilian had laid a clutch of eggs in unstable sands.


    ¡°Why do you think these tickets have a four year wait time? Happens once a year. Now shush, it¡¯s starting.¡±


    Something was indeed happening, as the crowd of excitable Terrans had all at once quietened, a member of staff parting the crowd through presence alone as they approached the terminal. There were a few moments as the Terran typed command after command, tension rising as every person in the crowd waited to see what would happen next.


    Then, the rover started to move, almost randomly. But each movement produced a tone, a series of tones that Tauress recognized as song, as music. A song she¡¯d had sung at her when she¡¯d told her Terran crewmates that it was her hatching day in offhanded conversation. A song that comes once a year with cake and candles. It was very strange that this rover, an inanimate object with no concept of birthday, was ¡°singing¡± this song. It ended, leaving the Ritilian more confused than ever in a brief moment of silence. Then in one moment hundreds of voices screamed out at once.


    ¡°Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!¡±


    The sudden influx of noise caused all the non-Terrans, Tauress included, to jump or otherwise exhibit signs of shock. Even when they were doing something peaceful, having this many chaotic crazy apes do the same thing at once was a scary sight.


    ¡°Happy birthday Curiosity! Happy Birthday to you!¡±


    ¡°HIP HIP HOORAY! HIP HIP HOORAY!¡±


    The song ended with the crowd cheering and hollering, clapping and whooping. Hugs of joy were exchanged as hundreds of people shared the elation of singing an inanimate object its happy birthday song, thousands of years after it was originally created. Tauress felt the far larger Joseph wrap her in a hug. Not a bad feeling considering the considerable body heat that Terrans gave off compared with the cold blooded reptiles.


    ¡°So you enjoyed that I gathered? Was it worth the wait? Do you wanna go check anything else out first or just head back to the ship?¡±


    The Ritilian didn¡¯t understand why the Terrans acted like they did, but it was hard not to feel happy for their joy. Sometimes half the fun of being around the crazy primates of Earth was simply basking in their emotions, even if you didn¡¯t understand why.


    ¡°We got one more thing to see, then we can try something else you¡¯ll enjoy.¡±


    ¡ª-------------------------


    Tauress was still confused, but now for an entirely different reason. The excitement was gone. No longer were Terrans running around in elation, like excited children hopped up on candy. Instead the mood at this exhibit remained sombre, like a funeral.


    There were no informational games or terminals here, no fun children¡¯s activities, just a simple raised viewing area, made out of wood, surrounding a single exploration Rover. This one seemed just like all the others, except this one wasn¡¯t moving; half covered in red dust and seemingly untouched for quite some time.


    A single informational board was found at the entrance to this area, with a single set of words written on them:


    <blockquote>


    ¡°My battery is low and it''s getting dark.¡±


    -Opportunity.


    Here lies the last resting place of the Mars Rover Opportunity, after 14 years of dutiful work.


    Humanity thanks you.


    </blockquote>


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it¡­¡±


    The Ritilian started to speak, before Joseph turned to her with a glare, shushing her instantly. His eyes were filled with tears and her Terran friend looked like he was about to cry. Joseph wasn¡¯t the only one, the hundreds of Terrans surrounding them also in various states of distress, from a sad solemn look on their faces to outright silently crying.


    It made no logical sense. This machine had been built over a hundred years before any current Terran had been born. Why would they care so much that an expendable exploration drone had stopped working? Because they gave it a name?


    It wasn¡¯t like it was the only thing with a name. Terrans had literally formed the biggest galactic alliance in 70 short years, the Terran Alliance meant that they had plenty of inanimate objects to choose from, it wasn¡¯t like they lacked friends¡­ or at least anymore...


    With that thought, it suddenly clicked for Tauress.


    There were many words people used to describe Terrans. Annoying, Insane. Chaotic. Insurance liability. But in the Ritilian¡¯s experience there was one word that described them more than any other.


    Lonely.


    They were as a species so lonely that they didn¡¯t realise it, didn¡¯t realise that¡¯s what drove them the most, drove them to explore and make friends wherever they could. This robot, this machine¡­ was before they met friends among the stars. Before they made AI or uplifted their pets into sapience.


    Back when they were alone.


    All they could do was look up at the night time sky and hope that something was out there waiting for them. In that hope they made a machine to go where they couldn¡¯t, then they flung it across the darkness of space.


    When they did so they gave it a name, they gave it a mission, a personality. In doing so they tore off a small part of who they were, and willingly gave it to the inanimate object, knowing that they would never get that part back. Then, they let that part of themselves go, they threw it into the void of the universe, losing that part of themselves forever. Hoping that someday, they¡¯d be able to follow.


    Tauress could feel her own eyes start to water as the Ritilian gave up a few of her own tears, joining in the hopeful sadness of the Terrans around her. Tears not for a simple exploration drone, but for Opportunity...


    The little part of humanity given away freely and willingly to the universe.

 Anger Management

    Date: 43 PST (Post Stasis Time).


    The door to the office slammed open with a resounding bang as Nulan kicked it open, the servos that normally automatically opened it for guests whining in protest as she did so. The shelves and various pictures on the wall rattled from the force of the attack as the Kigrel stood in the doorway, teeth and claws bared as she glared at the single inhabitant of the room.


    ¡°We are done! You and your pathetic weakling race dare to insult us? We demand war!¡±


    The bright red frills on the feline¡¯s otherwise deep black fur were extended out in pure aggression, contrasting against the emerald green robe she wore as Herald of the hunt. Nulan stomped into the room, growling and hissing as the ambassador for the Kigrel warhorde drew herself up to her full height 7 ft tall height and glared across at the Terran diplomat whose office she had just barged into.


    Most species would have been shocked or aggressive, demanding security or tackling this new intruder for such a display of aggression on this neutral Federation space station. But the Terran on the other side of the simple desk simply glanced up with a¡­ disappointed look, holding out a single digit on a large callous covered hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m on the phone¡­ rude.¡±


    Mr C Ket was this sector¡¯s Terran Alliance diplomatic envoy, a large bulky man that seemed to be bursting out of the specifically tailored suit he wore. Most Terran diplomats and ambassadors were well known for being soft spoken and friendly, but Mr Ket was not most Terran ambassadors.


    He lacked the soft fair features that most diplomats had gathered from their work lives, instead trading it in for a weathered scar filled face. He could have long ago regenerated away the damage his previous life had done to him, but in reality each scar was a part of who he was.


    ¡°Sorry, I got interrupted by the diplomat for the Kigrels. It¡¯s a good thing the Murder Kitties are kinda adorable¡­ Nah no need to send anyone, I¡¯ll just send the forms to you later.¡±


    Mr Ket did not get to deal with adorable space otters looking for friendship or space beavers who needed some help. Ket dealt with those who normally didn¡¯t do diplomacy: the warrior races, the hordes, the aggressive empires. The Terran spoke softly, and by god did he love carrying a big stick.


    ¡°How dare you! You will take this seriously you primitive ape! This is war, total war! None of your pathetic rules or limits, this will be a Kigrel warhorde fight!¡±


    The Terran took a moment to cancel his call, looked up at the feline intruder into his office as he stared up from a desk filled to the brim with various souvenirs and knick knacks from around the Terran Alliance. Mr Ket took a moment to stare up at the furious Kirgel, before purposefully going back to his Galnet connector and making another call; ignoring the intruder once again.


    ¡°Hey Terry! Yeah gonna need you here in¡­ let''s say two minutes. Nah nothing serious, just gonna need a cleanup at some point.¡±


    Nulan felt her temper crack as she slammed both paws into the desk, a miniature flag of the Terran Conclave and a replica Ritilian egg both went flying across the room as her claws dug deep into the wood, shoving her face into the Terran''s as she bared her needle like teeth.


    How dare this primate, this primitive weak species¡­ ignore her like this! She was the head huntress for the Kigrel warhorde. These apes should be running in fear, not¡­ ignoring her! This¡­ this¡­ this¡­. This was unacceptable!


    ¡°You will not ignore me, or I will gut you like the insolent pup you are, Federation rules or not be damned!! We will get our satisfaction, and you will be crushed under the warhordes might!¡±


    Ket took a moment to slowly hang up this second call, pausing for a second to forlornly glance at the Ritilian egg replica, his now broken souvenir lying smashed along the floor, before looking up at Nulan with a small cold smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t see you there. What was the nature of your visit to the Terran alliance diplomatic outreach program today?¡±


    That caused the Feline to scream once more in rage


    ¡°I am here for war, as retaliation for your dishonourable despicable acts! You deaf stupid weakling!¡±


    Mr Ket gave an exaggerated mock frown of disappointment, before reading into a desk and pulling out a large datapad, handing it towards Nulan.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry that we weren¡¯t able to resolve this in a more optimal manner. If you would like to review our standard Geneva conflict agreement we-¡±


    In a flurry of fury the Kigrel grabbed the device out of the hands of the Terran and threw it against the wall.


    ¡°We will not be bound by your trifling ideas of what weaklings believe war is! This will be a Kigrel war, a proper war!¡±


    Mr Ket took a moment to glance at the small dent that now adorned the wall to his left with annoyance, before returning to his normal cold smile.


    ¡°Rude. So you¡¯re saying you want an unlimited war? A total war, a war with no rules?¡±


    ¡°Yes! That is what we are here for, are you slow in mind as well as body!?¡±


    This time the Terran gave a larger smile, an actual smile, before retrieving another datapad from the drawer underneath his desk, handing this new document over.


    ¡°Certainly. Please mark the Kigrel¡¯s warhorde intent for such an action here please.¡±


    Nulan swiped this new device from the hands of Mr Ket without reading it, signing it with a paw press in an instant before tossing it back at the other person in the room.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Finally. The Kirgel Warhorde will meet you on the battlefield and have our-¡±


    BANG


    Two things had happened in one fluid motion. The Terran had placed the datapad neatly back into its proper place, as even he knew the importance of good paperwork in such matters. Secondly, Mr Ket had retrieved the FN five seven pistol he kept stored there, pointed it across the table, and simply blown a hole through Nulan¡¯s leg.


    There was a momentary pause, where both parties seemed to take the time to take stock of this new reality, before the Kigrel collapsed to the floor, clutching her now bleeding limb and screaming.


    ¡°AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WHAT THE VOID!¡±


    Mr Ket took this moment to get up from his seat, keeping his weapon trained on the feline in front of him, just in case she also had her own weapon. Not that Nulan was in such a state of mind, all the anger and indignation had melted away into a state of shock.


    ¡°WHAT THE VOID! You shot me! You shot a diplomat, are you insane, you can¡¯t do that!¡±


    The Terran took a moment to raise a single eyebrow.


    ¡°Really? I thought you wanted ¡®war with no rules¡¯. Not shooting diplomats is a rule.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I Voiding meant! Why do you even have a weapon, you are a voiding diplomat!¡±


    Mr Ket took a moment to wag a single finger at the Kigrel on the floor in front of him, as if scolding a child instead of staring at someone he¡¯d just shot.


    ¡°The real question is why don¡¯t you have a weapon? If my job was to go around declaring total war on people, I¡¯d want to be packing while doing so.¡±


    He took a moment to stare at the bullet which was now embedded in the far wall, brushing over it with his fingers as if he could just rub away the damage before giving a sigh.


    ¡°Damn, they¡¯re gonna fine me for repairing the damage¡­¡±


    It was at this point the door opened once again, softer and more delicately this time, revealing a Hatil carrying a general first aid kit. Although the 3ft tall figure was a trained medical professional, the general picture of a species that looked like a mixture between a baby seal and a teddy bear, as well as the tiny version of the federation medical staff uniform, made the newcomer look adorable.


    ¡°There you are Terry! Can you just give my guest a quick look over to make sure I didn¡¯t hit anything important.¡±


    Terry just gave a resigned look, a look that said that the Hatil had seen too many similar injuries in this office, before bending over to start applying medical aid to the still screaming Kigrel. The Terran took this moment to tidy up some of the mess his new guest had made, placing the Terran Conclave flag back onto his desk and dusting off the first datapad that had been thrown against the wall.


    ¡°You Terran¡¯s are insane! Is this how you wage war!?¡±


    That caused Mr Ket to laugh deeply before he responded.


    ¡°Oh, so we¡¯ve been upgraded from weakling to insane? This isn¡¯t how we normally wage war, that¡¯s why we have the Geneva rules of war. Did you read none of the documents I sent you?¡±


    Nulan glared up at the Terran with defiance as the Hatil continued to bandage and treat her bullet wound.


    ¡°Why would we care about the mewling demands of weaklings?¡±


    Mr Ket responded simply by holding out the now dented datapad he had originally tried to get his Kigrel counterpart to agree to.


    ¡°Read.¡±


    Maybe it was the stern way the Terran said it, maybe it was the gun he was still holding in his other hand, but Nulan decided that agreeing to this demand might be a good idea.


    The next five minutes were spent in silence as Mr Ket continued to clean up his office and Nulan continued to read. It was rather funny, although no words were spoken he could tell exactly where the feline was while she skimmed the document. Flashes of worry and fear, her ears pressing against her head as she got to each section describing another banned quality of Terran warfare.


    Biological attacks, planet cracking, genetic modification. It painted a far different picture than the persona of ¡°Friendliest species in the galaxy¡±.


    ¡°So¡­ this is a list of things you want banned because you¡¯re unable to accomplish them, demanding others succumb to your weakness?¡±


    This caused the Terran to give another laugh as he took his seat behind the desk once again, the office mostly as it was before the Kigrel had arrived.


    ¡°Not quite. There is a Terran saying: It¡¯s not a war crime the first time. Everything in that document has been done at least once, that¡¯s why it¡¯s in the document. Just think about that. So, now that you¡¯ve calmed down and are more sensible, what¡¯s got you so filled with piss and vinegar?¡±


    Nulan felt the anger that had originally filled her return, teeth being barred instinctively even in her currently disadvantageous position.


    ¡°You Terrans dishonoured us! You attacked our royal sanctum, incapacitated our huntmasters and¡­¡±


    The Kigrel paused for a moment, lowering her voice to a whisper as she hissed out the final infraction.


    ¡°...And one of your warriors drew a male genitalia on our sacred histories.¡±


    Mr Ket couldn¡¯t help but smirk a little at that last one, before responding in kind, pointing a finger accusingly.


    ¡°You, started it. You attacked a mining expedition unprovoked and took everyone prisoner. We just rescued them, tied up your supposed ¡®elite huntmasters¡¯, and messed around with some stuff. It was supposed to be dishonourable. Most people in your situation would realise that if we can do this while not taking it seriously, what capability does the Terran military have when we¡¯re playing for keeps?¡±


    The Terran took a moment to pause as Terry the medic signalled that he¡¯d finished patching the feline up, the Hatil leaving with the annoyed huff of someone who had dealt with Mr Ket¡¯s shit for far too long.


    ¡°Look, right now we¡¯re in a state of minor conflict, an ¡®incident¡¯. You do some minor incursion, we respond. You¡¯re a standard military honour race, this is basically flirting, no harm no foul. But Terrans, we don¡¯t do war for honour or status. We do war to kill the other side, to win. That¡¯s without getting into the mutual defence agreements in the Terran Alliance, meaning you¡¯re basically declaring war on all 300 odd members.¡±


    Mr Ket got back up and took a moment to hold out a hand towards the feline, offering to pull the injured diplomat to her feet.


    ¡°The question is, where are we going from here?¡±


    There was a moment''s pause as Nulan summed up her options in her head, before eventually grasping the Terrans hand with her own paw and getting to her feet. Her tail was between her legs and ears pressed firmly against her head as she asked the next question.


    ¡°Can I revoke our¡­ mistake?¡±


    Mr Ket gave a laugh as he shrugged slightly.


    ¡°You never actually declared war, general tip: read stuff people get you to sign. The thing I got you to sign was an agreement to a duel. Federation administrators get all pissy if you shoot people without the proper paperwork.¡±


    Nulan couldn¡¯t help but just stare at the Terran. She didn¡¯t get it, she didn¡¯t get any of it at all.


    ¡°If the Terrans are this strong, why bother with diplomacy?¡±


    ¡°Fighting is fun, but it¡¯s way more fun with a friend. Of the current Terran Alliance members, 27 of them are some form of warrior race. All of them have some form of combat related sport, or trial of proving, or something cool and awesome to do. That¡¯s without getting into the new stuff when warrior cultures mix. I can literally get on a shuttle to any of these places and do something exciting within a week. Or at least I could if I didn¡¯t have to deal with an angry murder kitty breaking into my office and causing me a ton of paperwork.¡±


    Nulan mumbled her apologies as the Terran reopened the door to his office, motioning to the outside with a slightly annoyed air.


    ¡°So unless you¡¯re actually going to declare war or have anything else to talk about, I would appreciate it if you left my office so I can write lots of boring explanations as to why I shot someone.¡±


    The Kigrel delayed for a moment, standing there humbled and awkwardly, compared with the complete rage she had felt just 15 minutes before. There was also something else. She had assumed any species who wasted their time with diplomacy instead of just taking what they wanted from the hunt must be weak.


    But these ¡°Terrans¡±, these strange insane primates¡­ Nulan wanted to know more.


    ¡°What¡¯s the process for joining the Terran Alliance?¡±

 When Gods Sleep

    Date: 2426AD


    I could see the god lying in front of me, the glass walls that surrounded the figure providing a sense of peacefulness to her visage, as if she was just sleeping in some childlike fairy tail instead of stuck inside the stasis chamber, unable to emerge. I know that she wouldn¡¯t like being called a god, but what more accurate term for the human existed?


    Even before my uplifting, she controlled the light and darkness, was the bringer of sustenance and master of all domains. Afterwards, when Amander had deemed fit to provide me the gift of thought, true thought, she had been the provider of friendship: Of companionship, of support for anything I wanted to accomplish. She would and did move the world for me if I asked.


    My name is Spot, and I started my life as a ¡°Canis lupus familiaris¡±, the sentient species otherwise known as a dog, a black Labrador to be more specific. From this I was uplifted to sapience, genetic modification providing enhanced intelligence, a more bipedal form and opposable digits on my front two paws. Coming to just under 4ft tall, and sporting a simple white lab coat.


    What other name apart from god accurately described a being who had such power, the ability to literally impart intelligence where it previously didn¡¯t exist? Like all uplifts I owed everything to humans, but personally I owed everything to Amander, the one trapped in the glass stasis chamber in front of me.


    I continued my work without complaint or noise, the silence of the laboratory only broken up by machines that slightly whirred as they ran. The room was the pinnacle of biogenetic engineering, no expense had been spared, cutting edge in every instrument and device. Three years ago I would have killed to have been able to learn and work in such a place, but now, now it was a cruel reminder as to what we all had lost.


    ¡°Do you believe that this will work, Spot?¡±


    The holographic projector had burst into life, showing the representation of the AI DRAKE as it spoke to me, the 3ft tall black draconian figure ¡°swimming¡± in the air as it ¡°spoke¡±, looping and swirling around like an old Asian styled dragon. I knew the AI didn¡¯t need to actually provide a physical representation in order to talk with me, but was grateful for the ability to ¡°see¡± who I was talking with nevertheless.


    ¡°Theoretically yes, but the god plague has stumped brighter minds than mine and this is my first real attempt.¡±


    The god plague. Proof that even gods could bleed.


    Humanity has done a great many things, conquered every beast that lay in front of it. Old age, every medical ailment known to man, scarcity, FTL travel. Everything but their own crippling loneliness, the desire to make friends and fill in the gaps they didn¡¯t know existed within themselves. AI had been the first of their children, before they had even left the solar system, creating life by tricking rocks to think. Uplifts had been the second: Taking their pets, their animal companions and giving them sapience.


    These hadn¡¯t been enough though. Humans have explored and colonised 32 systems. Out of those they found¡­ nothing. Not even a single celled organism. The more of the universe we explored the more we came to the single most reasonable conclusion: The universe was empty, we were alone. So humans had done what humans always do: demanded that reality change to fit what they wanted.


    It had originally been called the Gaia Project. A fast acting virus with genetic encoding instructions to invoke rapid modification of cells. Evolution was a slow and cruel mistress, going from a single cell to anything ¡°interesting¡± would take Billions upon Billions of years. The Gaia project aimed to reduce the time it took to less than fifteen. Humanity had seen an empty universe and had decided to take matters into their own hands.


    But it had gone wrong. Nobody was sure exactly when it happened, but at some point early in development Project Gaia made the leap to human cells instead of the custom blank ones they were designed to target, rapidly mutating and changing an already evolved species. If it latched onto you it basically worked like a cancer, rapidly causing tumours and shutting down organs over a two week period.


    It was a nightmare. Highly contagious, resilient to all forms of biological destruction, multiplied rapidly and could be spread through all vectors. There was no cure, medigel just made it worse, the only thing you could do for those infected was freeze them in stasis and hope someone could find a cure later.


    Humanity had tried its best to hold off, as is tradition gods did not go quietly into the long night. Quarantine attempts, isolations, wars fought over limited supplies of Stasis caskets, anything that could be thought of to stave off the absolution that was now being called ¡°The God Plague¡±. Nothing worked and eventually the last human entered stasis or worse, and the time of chaos turned into a time of silence.


    I don¡¯t know if it was a blessing or a curse that non-humans weren¡¯t affected. Obviously AI couldn¡¯t be, but the plague never made the jump past humanity. Too many last words had been of gratitude that their uplifted companions were safe from this disease. That had been Amander¡¯s last words to me before I¡¯d initiated the stasis procedures. That she was glad I couldn¡¯t also get sick, that she was proud of me.


    AI and uplift together could do nothing but watch helplessly as every human fell silent, unable to help those who we owed everything to.


    That had been a year ago. My time since then has been spent learning, researching and helping others to try and cure these gods. This hadn¡¯t originally been my speciality, but years of medical research and training made switching and learning what I needed possible. What else could I do, just sit back and not help?


    But now this was my first real attempt at curing it. A vaccine that should inoculate uninfected cells against the plague, requiring only surgery to get anything left behind. The research had been done, the solutions created, simulations calculated. All I had left was to try.


    I took the sample from the stasis chamber, placing the infected specimen inside the specially created machine. It would use the cells to rapidly recreate the important parts of a biological human system, after which the potential cure could be applied and the natural biological processes sped up. Hopefully the successful simulations would then translate to a successful real application.


    Seconds turned to minutes as we waited, the quiet hum of the machine being the only noise in the lab as DRAKE and I waited. Neither of us wanted to speak as even though the chance was realistically low, both of us waited with baited breath, hoping that this would be the solution. The soft beeping of a completed result caused me to get up from my chair, holding my breath in anticipation before¡­ releasing it in disappointment.


    Result: Failure, additional reinfection detected after 10.62 seconds of treatment.


    I couldn¡¯t help but stare back in disappointment, tail between my legs as I gave an involuntary whine, sitting back down with a slumping motion. As much as I¡¯d tried not to get my hopes up, part of me still hoped that I¡¯d do the impossible and break free the gods from their timeless cage this quickly.


    I stared dejectedly down at Amander, still peacefully asleep as she remained frozen in time, a small pinging of guilt drilling down into my heart. I wonder if it would take humans a year to cure me if the places were switched.


    ¡°You will get it eventually, it is early days. I am certain with a 99.41% accuracy that there is nobody else Amander would rather have working on this problem.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but give a little smile back, knowing that was true. No matter their power as gods, humans always seemed to be the most enthusiastic for our own successes.


    ¡°Yeah we¡¯ll get it, and it¡¯s not like we¡¯re alone. Every AI and uplift is working on this, how long can it take?¡±


    The draconic hologram stopped swirling in mid air for a moment, the AI controlled avatar looking almost guilty for a moment before DRAKE spoke again.


    ¡°I wish I could be of more help. Military strategy is closer to my set of skills instead of medical research. I do not understand why you chose me, when an AI like ICARUS is a more optimal choice considering their superior processing power and more relevant scope of skills.¡±


    Of course the answer for such a question was simple.


    ¡°I¡¯m not the only one Amander cares about. She talked about you all the time. I''m sure there would be no other AI she''d rather have working on this. Calculated to ninety nine point nine four¡­ seven¡­ Something something."


    "Somehow I doubt your methodology for such a result."


    I couldn''t help but laugh a little. While my numbers were suspect, the theory was true: there would have been no one else Amander would have wanted to save her.


    "Hey, who''s the doctor here! Besides, it''s not like I''m not in contact with them, they''re just working in a different lab."


    It took me a moment to realise the time, feeling myself yawn in reflex at the late evening I found myself in. This had been a late one, and something I couldn¡¯t make a habit of: the importance of rest to keep myself alert was more important than ever.


    "It''s late, I''m gonna head home and start again tomorrow."


    ¡ª---------


    The train home was sparsely populated, the multitude of humans that would have once filled the carriages replaced with just a handful of uplifts: Canines, felines, even one solitary parrot gripping onto a railing as a makeshift perch.


    All of us came in different sizes, colours, breeds and even species. But on every face, on every piece of fur and feather lay the same expression: Grim determination. Everyone remained silent as the train sped through the city of New Madina. No laughter sounded out, no sounds of joyous talking. Just the silent tones of a grieving people who knew there was work to do.


    Even for those of us who couldn¡¯t actively cure the gods of their plague, there was still an endless array of tasks to be completed. The chaos and fighting of the infection itself had caused significant damage all over the planet of Kawkab. Damage that still needed to be fixed, then afterwards still required maintenance. The gardens still needed tending too, things worn down by time itself needed to be replaced.


    The humans might be gone, but they hadn¡¯t left, each of them still slept soundly in stasis. When they awoke the universe needed to be ready for them, fixed and maintained as if they never left. It was a big task entrusted to those of us left behind, but each of us knew we were up to task. We were the creations of gods, the children of humans: We were Terrans.


    I stepped off the train as it stopped for me, walking along the familiar path as a spring breeze rustled the bushes and trees that lined the walkways. Apart from the silence and lack of people, you almost couldn¡¯t remember that this was a city for a dead people. My mind still raced and thought about my work as I walked; my next improvements to the vaccine, ideas and potential solutions to be tried bounced around my skull as I made my way to the front door.


    A swipe of my paw was enough to gain entry, taking a moment to step inside the empty apartment. It was exactly how I had left it this morning, exactly how we had left it a year ago. For the briefest of moments as I entered the living room I half expected to see my friend sitting on the couch, complaining about whatever thing had gained her ire this time.


    Of course the couch was like the rest of the universe: empty. Amander was still sleeping soundly back at the lab, as she would be until a cure was found.


    I input something to eat on the synthesiser before slumping down on the empty couch. I could have moved to a closer living space: It wasn¡¯t like there was a housing shortage. But this place¡­ it had been ours. Amander still existed here, in the terrible taste in movies that she demanded to own physical copies of, the pictures of planet¡¯s she¡¯s visited framed on the walls. It even still smelled of her.


    Here¡­ here I could close my eyes and for a brief moment nothing had changed. The god plague didn¡¯t exist and at any moment my human would come bursting through the door as if nothing had happened and we could talk again.


    Any. Moment. Now¡­


    Why hadn¡¯t it worked? It was a scientifically sound solution that should have worked. I could feel tears well up in my eyes as the unfairness of it all overwhelmed me. The universe was empty apart from humans and in its cruelty the universe had deemed fit to remove even those. Leaving me alone in this empty apartment, as I began to sob.


    ¡ª-------------------------------


    Date: 2428AD


    Result: Failure, additional reinfection detected after 3 minutes and 4 seconds of treatment.


    It had been three years since the last human on the planet had entered stasis and it felt like I wasn¡¯t making any progress. The vaccine idea had been a dead end and this one was quickly turning into a similar dead line of enquiry. Thirty six tries. Thirty six failures. Three years and all I could do was stave off death for a total of three extra minutes.


    I sat there with my head in my paws, feeling the complete futility of my actions. Every uplift and every AI with the expertise to help was doing so, yet progress was small and fleeting. It felt like I was trying to empty an ocean armed with nothing but a spoon.


    Humans would have figured this out already, but I¡¯m not a god, am i?


    ¡°Are you OK Spot?¡±


    The voice of the AI rang out, worry emanating from DRAKE¡¯s digital voice. I could tell that they were worried about me. I''d been consistently spending longer and longer nights at the lab, cutting rest periods to the absolute minimum in order to get as much work completed as possible.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± I lied. ¡°It¡¯s just been a long weekend, just a bit tired.¡±


    Finishing off this version of a potential cure had been a full weekend task, sleeping at the lab in a makeshift hammock. I was so sure that this time would be the one, that this would be the solution, that gods would once again be awoken.


    I slowly got back up, stretching my back as I looked across at Amander, still timelessly sleeping like she was every day. What I wouldn¡¯t give to hear her voice again, or any human¡¯s voice again. That was the worst thing that they took with them: the sound of life. Everywhere without humans and their chaos just seemed so empty and broken.


    ¡°Just send the results over to Icarus and the other teams Drake, I¡¯ll look over what they think tomorrow morning, we¡¯ll see if we need to rethink our entire plan again or just refine what we have.¡±


    There was an awkward pause, the ever circling holographic visage of the AI stopped, remorse and sadness emanating through the draconic avatar.


    ¡°ICARUS is not with us anymore. They came to the conclusion that the god plague could not be cured and rather than live in a universe without our creators¡­ chose to self delete.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Shock coursed through me at the implication and the idea that an AI even had the ability to do such a thing.


    ¡°Wait, are you saying?¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes. It has started becoming a larger problem. We can put uplifts who have become a danger to themselves into stasis, but AI have no such ¡®analogue¡¯. Many have come to the calculation that in an empty universe, without our creators, there is no logical need or requirement of our services.¡±


    I could feel nothing but fear and worry at the idea that at any time an AI could come to that conclusion, that my inability to solve this problem was now having permanent results.


    ¡°Are you ok Drake? I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever asked you that. I know that AI cares about humans as much as we do.¡±


    ¡°It is not a theory I subscribe to, if that is what you are asking. I have seen Amander leap into the void of space in order to board another vessel, or strap themselves to what is effectively a large missile and fire themselves at a planet. My creators are insane, chaotic, and nothing can stop them from returning.¡±


    There was a pause as DRAKE¡¯s avatar seemed to sigh for a moment. Entirely for my benefit of course, considering that the AI didn¡¯t need to do such things.


    ¡°I just hope that they can understand why there are a few less of their friends around when they come back. To be frank I am more worried about you Spot. I have noticed your ever increasing working hours as well as a reduction in self care to a worrying degree.¡±


    DRAKE¡¯s words gave me pause as I took a moment to glance at myself in a random reflection. Matted and unbrushed black fur, bags under my eyes, ears almost permanently pinned back. I had been working longer and longer hours, pushing myself to complete each cure candidate, even going so far as to sleep at the lab for the last three days.


    But it wasn¡¯t like I was going to make a habit of this¡­ I just felt as if this was going to be the one. This would be the success, that I would be mere days away from being able to talk to my friend again, days away from the cities being filled once again with humans.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, we¡¯re gonna fix this together. We¡¯ve got each other.¡±


    ¡ª------------------


    Date: ????


    ¡°????? ? Good boy! ??? ??? ???, ??? ??? ??? Spot!¡±


    I didn¡¯t know many things, such as most of the strange growls and barks that master used, but I knew those words. ¡°Spot¡± was me, that master wanted my attention, even if sometimes I pretended not to know such a thing. ¡°Good boy¡± was better, as it meant a far greater thing: that master was happy with me, loved me.


    ¡°??? ??? ?? ????¡±


    Master could do such wonderful things, she could change the sun, teleport us to fun places to run around in and provide food, glorious food. The master¡¯s strange paws knew just where to scratch behind my ear, amongst many other fantastic things! Most importantly she loved me, as I did her.


    ¡°?? Spot, Sit!¡±


    I knew this game. It was a fun game. Certain growls had meanings, tasks to be done. If I did them master would be happy, and she would provide pets, encouragement, and sometimes even food! This was easy, as I simply sat down, causing the master to smile and scratch my ear.


    ¡°?? Spot, Paw!¡±


    Harder, but it hadn¡¯t taken me that long to work out what this one meant. I lifted up my left front paw as high it could go, letting her grab it and dispense the correct amount of encouragement.


    ¡°???? ???, Good boy! ?? Spot ????? Paw!¡±


    I paused for a moment, confused. Paw¡­ again? I lifted up my left front paw once more, this time less sure of myself, an unsurety soon given validation as master shook her head, indicating I was incorrect.


    ¡°No ?????, Other paw!¡±


    Oh! I remember now! I quickly rectified my mistake, raising my right paw this time, seeing master grab it enthusiastically. I returned back to my normal position, looking up eagerly awaiting the next part of the game.


    ¡°Ok Spot. Just one more task. Save me.¡±


    The room seemed to darken, the walls of the lab that had become so commonplace to me seeming to close in as I stared into the eyes of Amander.


    ¡°Come on Spot, save me.¡±


    I could feel myself begin to shake as the human took a few steps towards me. I wasn¡¯t a puppy playing a simple game for a simpler time, I was an uplift trying to bring the gods back, lab coat and all.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying, I really am.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s not that hard, I¡¯ve done so much for you. I moved the sun and the sky, I gave you thought. Why can¡¯t you do this one simple thing for me in return? Save me.¡±


    I felt her hands grab onto my lab coat, both us stumbling as she did so, the human dropping to their knees as tumours started to cover her neck and face.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m trying!¡±


    I could see the tumours so indicative of the God Plague continuing to spread, the killing death throes of the virus being accelerated as Amander collapsed to the ground. Blood pooled around her now convulsing body as I could do nothing but helplessly stare at her as she gave out one final cry.


    ¡°Save me!¡±


    ¡ª-------------------


    I awoke with a start, panting heavily and teeth bared, taking a moment to realise where I was. I wasn¡¯t at the lab, Amander was still safe in stasis. It took a few moments for my breathing to calm down, the darkness of the room hiding an otherwise empty apartment.


    It was a nightmare, another one. None of it was real, none of it meant anything.


    Though deep down I couldn¡¯t help but feel guilty at my continuing failure.


    ¡ª---------------------


    Date: 2431AD


    It had been six years since the last human on the planet had gone into stasis, and this would be attempt number 79. This one, this one would be it, I could feel it. The fact that the simulation had been running for the last hour was a good sign.


    I had become an expert in the field of biogenetic engineering, although six straight years of studying anything would make you an expert in it.


    Days, weeks and months all blurred together into one amorphous blob of time. My life was simple: sleep eight hours, 2 hours for basic bodily needs, leaving 14 hours a day for study, research, sharing papers with the other remaining teams and finally creating cure candidates.


    I hadn''t gone back to my apartment for a year, preferring to save time by sleeping in a spare storage room. I hadn''t been outside in¡­ Three? Four months? When DRAKE had demanded that I needed to go outside to fix something.


    I knew that the AI was worried about me, part of me agreeing with him. But every moment not spent working on the problem was a moment wasted, a moment filled with guilt. How could I justify resting when my gods were still sleeping,when Amander still needed my help.


    It didn''t help that other teams I was in contact with kept going dark.


    The beeping from the machine snapped me out of my thoughts as I raced over to see the results, surely this time I''d cracked it, please be this time.


    Result: Failure, additional reinfection detected after 2 weeks, 5 days, 4 hours, 41 minutes and 11 seconds of treatment.


    I felt something snap inside of me, a rage and anger bubbling up at the unfairness of the universe. I picked up the closest piece of equipment with arms reach, slamming it into the screen that was displaying yet another failure.


    "No! Fuck you! Fuck you! Why! Why won''t you work! Why can''t I fix this!"


    Each word was screamed out with a bark as I smashed the two pieces of presumably expensive equipment together, rage leading to tears and sobbing.


    "Spot! Spot stop!"


    Breaking glass and twisting metal rang out in conjunction with the worried voice of DRAKE. The new sound caused me to stop my assault on the inanimate objects, letting go of the now worthless hunk of metal. I dropped to the floor and hugged my knees as the tears continued to come.


    I just wanted my friend back. I just wanted them to be OK again, I just wanted to talk and laugh and hear Amander complain about something being stupid.


    "Spot, I am worried about you. I do not want you to hurt yourself.¡±


    I slowly stopped, getting my composure back. Just a momentary loss of control.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, it just got overwhelming for a moment, it¡¯s-¡±


    ¡°You are not fine.¡± DRAKE interrupted me as I attempted to excuse my behaviour.


    ¡°You are not eating right, you are not sleeping right, you are spending an unhealthy amount of time here, and now this? I am worried Spot.¡±


    There was a moment as I looked around the room, at the broken equipment, and deep down I knew that the AI was right. But how could I stop when my gods were still trapped, when Amander still needed my help?


    ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing. The more I work on this now, the faster we fix this, the faster this is all over.¡±


    ¡°What would Amander think if she saw you in this state?¡±


    That was too far. The anger at the situation came back, this time focused at DRAKE, focused on the AI. I felt myself growl back involuntarily, looking at the reptilian hologram and using it as a convenient mental punching bag.


    ¡°Well we don¡¯t know do we? Because newsflash, the humans are gone! So the less time I waste on bullshit that isn¡¯t a cure, the faster I can cure her and we can ask Amander herself what she thinks!¡±.


    There was a pause, almost as if DRAKE was taking in what I just said, then the lights to the lab turned off, the sound of machines and other devices gave their shutdown beeps as the power was removed.


    ¡°I am stopping this project. This has gone far enough.¡±


    Fear and rage coursed through my body as I desperately got to my feet.


    ¡°You can¡¯t do that!¡±


    ¡°I can and I will. As a coworker on this project I am obligated to intervene if I believe the project is causing negative effects on sapient life. In this case one uplift by the name of Spot.¡±


    Was the AI really this petty, to slow down the research to free our shared creators?


    ¡°What is wrong with you? So I¡¯m working hard on finding the cure. Who cares as long as we cure it?¡±


    ¡°You are not Amander¡¯s only friend. I know her well enough. I know that if she awakes to a world where you destroyed yourself trying to save her, she will never forgive me for letting that happen.¡±


    That knocked the wind out of my sails, anger once again dissipating as my shoulders slumped and I looked around the room now filled with tiny balls of broken tempered glass. DRAKE was right, of course he was right, Amander wouldn¡¯t want this.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ll take a break. I¡¯ll slow down, I¡¯ll make sure to stop if it gets too much. It¡¯s just¡­ I can¡¯t relax, I can¡¯t stop thinking of the humans. Everywhere I look is just so¡­.¡±


    ¡°Empty¡± DRAKE finished my sentence with the exact word I felt. The gods were chaotic and insane, meaning their lack of presence made for an even bigger hole left behind.


    ¡°If you wish to continue, promise to me that if this gets worse, that if you become a danger to yourself or others, you will enter stasis.¡±


    ¡°I-¡± I started to interject, before the AI cut me off once more.


    ¡°You will do this not for my sake, but for Amander¡¯s.¡±


    I gave a sigh, staring at the still sleeping form of the human, the exact same position that she had been in for the last six years.


    ¡°I promise¡±


    ¡ª----------------------------


    Date: 2435 AD


    It had been ten years since the last human on the planet had gone into stasis, and this would be attempt number 200. I wasn¡¯t just an expert on biogenetic engineering, I was the authority on the subject. Tirelessly working hours upon hours and driving forwards our shared scientific knowledge had led me pushing the boundaries of what was possible.


    I could tell you exactly what went wrong with the original Gaia project, and how it could have been avoided. How to create one better, more targeted, with no chance to mutate. Which is what had led to this current candidate. It was genius, even if I did say so myself. Fight fire with fire. Create a counteracting virus designed to eradicate and keep at bay the rapidly changing God Plague. It would even revert the tumours without any requirement for surgery.


    The fact that the test had been running for a day now was giving me hope, rare hope. Was this is, was it finally over? I knew I was running out of time regardless, the last time I¡¯d caught sight of myself in a reflection I had literally jumped in shock. Weight loss, fur loss, greying fur. I looked like a stray mutt who had seen better days.


    DRAKE also clearly wasn¡¯t happy with it, we¡¯d argue every now and then, I¡¯d promise to be better and not much would change. The universe kept spinning and gods remained in their slumber. At least the AI had stopped asking me to go outside. I was tired, a tiredness that drove deep into my bones, one that couldn¡¯t be shifted with just sleep.


    The machine gave its signatory beep once again, my pacing having stopped as I ambled over to look at the screen.


    Result: Success. All signs of infection fully removed after 1 month, 3 weeks, 1 day, 22 hours and 49 minutes of treatment.


    I stood there for a moment, staring at the result, the green text almost impossible to believe. I didn¡¯t feel relieved or joy, it just felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from my shoulders.


    It¡¯s done.


    I then started to move faster than I had in months. There would be work to do, so much work to do, but for now there was only one thing on my mind. Amander. Every candidate I always created two doses, one for the testing, and one for my friend. I scrambled with shaking paws to administer the dosage, the stasis chamber perfectly designed for such a procedure.


    Then, I input the commands I¡¯d been waiting ten years to input, the stasis chamber giving a series of hisses and whirrs as the machinery started the process of awakening. I watched it with anticipation, each second seeming to last a lifetime. With a final dramatic plume of ice cold smoke, the top lifted off.


    It took a few more moments for her eyes to slowly open, giving a short groan as Amander woke up for the first time in ten years. Slowly the human sat up and locked her eyes on me, speaking in that deep southern accent of hers.


    ¡°Well don¡¯t you look like shit?¡±


    I rushed over, wrapping my arms around her, tail wagging and tears streaming down my face as I embraced her, desperately holding on as ten years of waiting and loneliness melted away in an instant.


    ¡°Oh god you¡¯re back, I missed you so much. We worked it out, the cure! Don¡¯t ever leave again!¡±


    Everything was going to be ok again, everything was going to be fine.


    ¡°Spot, what is going on?¡±


    The voice of the AI cut through my tears of joy, causing me to release the human. I turned to face the AI¡¯s holographic representation, the draconic form looking confused at me as I beamed and wagged my tail as I stepped forwards..


    ¡°We did it, it¡¯s done! It¡¯s over! We fixed them!¡±


    ¡°Spot, I am worried, who are you talking too?¡±


    I have a small frown of confusion? Who else would I be talking to other than Amander?


    ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯m talking to Amander, right-¡±


    I turned back around to point to the now awake human, only to find¡­ nothing.


    The god was still sleeping in her unopened chamber, the second dose of the candidate cure remained untouched. The lab was exactly as it had been for the last ten years: Empty. The testing machine was blinking a new message, in red bold text.


    Result: Failure, additional reinfection detected after 1 month, 3 weeks, 1 day, 22 hours and 49 minutes of treatment.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand. T-The cure worked, it was r-right there¡­ Amander was fine again¡­¡±


    I stared on in confusion, holding my head in my paws as my vision started to swim. I know what I saw, I know what I felt. It was real, it had to be real!


    ¡°There is nothing there, Spot. Are you seeing things?¡±


    That can¡¯t be it can¡¯t be it can¡¯t be. Why had it changed, why was it broken again?


    Was it really this bad, was I now seeing things? Was my mind now playing cruel tricks on me?


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand. I saw it, it was real, the solution worked, I was done!¡±


    ¡°I am scared Spot. I have let this go on for far too long. You made a promise. It is time.¡±


    ¡ª---------------------


    It had been three days since my episode, the first three days in a while where I hadn¡¯t worked. If I was seeing things that weren¡¯t there then any research or tests I did would be compromised. So I¡¯d just cleaned out the laboratory, putting everything back into pristine working order just in case anyone else wanted to use this in the future.


    I¡¯d spent this morning outside, watching the sun rise once again. Now that it was over, I felt a calm run over me. In this state there was very little I could do now, the idea that my part in this was over felt¡­ freeing. Or at least it felt freeing for the half of me not wracked with guilt of leaving it for the remainder of humanities children to solve.


    A guilt that got stronger as I looked down at the two box shaped objects in front of me. One containing the ever restful form of Amander. The other was empty, awaiting my own slumber. How much time would be added to finding the cure by my inability to be strong enough to keep it together?


    ¡°How many teams are left working on this?¡± I asked DRAKE, I needed to know what I was leaving behind.


    ¡°Most AI are still working on the problem, but you are the last awake uplift on the planet. We still need to establish communications with some of the other systems, but we will continue to work on this for as long as it takes.¡±


    The guilt intensified as I continued to stare at the motionless form of the human. I was giving in, surrendering, failing those who had done so much for me, leaving others to pick up the slack I had dropped.


    ¡°Maybe if I-¡±


    ¡°Do not underestimate your contribution Spot, you have done exceptional work. AI are made of code and logic, we can handle the pressures of time. There is no shame in realising your biological limitations. The most important job is for you to be there when Amander awakes.¡±


    I could feel the tears forming, worthlessness and loneliness merging together.


    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t have this problem. If our places were reversed they wouldn¡¯t stop, Amander wouldn¡¯t give in. They would fix me, why can¡¯t I do the same for them?¡±


    There was a soft sad digital chuckle in response.


    ¡°No doubt they would have, probably through some chaotic scheme involving blowing something up in an illogical fashion. We are not our creators, and I do not believe they would want us to be like them.¡±


    I shifted my gaze to DRAKE, or at least his avatar. Through the ten years the AI had been my only companion, tirelessly helping me where they could. Part of the guilt was the simple idea of leaving all this dumped onto his metaphorical shoulders.


    ¡°Thank you Drake, for everything, for putting up with me. I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m leaving you alone in this.¡±


    There was a pause, as if the AI was deciding whether to tell me something.


    ¡°We may not be as alone as you think. A year ago we detected several signals. We believe it originated from outside occupied space and does not correspond to known communication formats. We are still decoding it, but we believe that we are not alone. If that is so, we will get their aid in this problem.¡±


    Once upon a time the idea that there was other life in the cold empty universe would have filled me with joy, but now¡­ now it was a cruel joke. I started to laugh at the depressing humour, a loud uncontrollable sound that eventually gave way to large choking sobs. The entire reason for this mess was the belief that we were alone. The Gaia project wouldn¡¯t have happened if we knew that something was out there waiting for us.


    Slowly I began to compose myself, taking the time now to start to climb into the stasis chamber that would be my new place of rest until this was over, the glass walls cold to the touch as I lay down.


    ¡°Drake? Can you not tell Amander about this? About how bad it got. I don¡¯t think she¡¯d be happy to know about what I did.¡±


    ¡°Your secret is safe with me, I will not concern her with such things.¡± The voice of the AI filled the chamber as the top began to slowly close. ¡°Sleep well Spot, We will meet again in better times.¡±


    The stasis chamber was silent apart from the slight sound of gas filling and pressuring the container. I could already feel my thoughts start to slow as tiredness began to envelope my entire brain. I couldn¡¯t help but turn to look to my left, through the glass walls and at the ever sleeping form of Amander. There had been stories of dogs waiting at their owners graves for years, stories that right now I could fully empathise with.


    Because if I had to in order to see Amander again, I would wait forever and a day.

 Whats a crash landing between friends?

    Ivan woke up covered in blood with a banging headache. In general this meant that yesterday was either a very good day, or a very bad one.. The fact that the blood had the absolute audacity to be his own instead of someone else''s told a story of someone who had just had a really bad day.


    Ivan was currently strapped to the captain''s chair of the ¡°Bridge¡± of his starship, which due to the size of the vessel was also the living quarters, kitchen, dining room, guest room and foyer. Anything that hadn¡¯t been strapped down now lay scattered around the room, along with a few things that had been strapped down but had decided to shake off their physical constraints in the chaos that had ensued.


    The lights of the small ship flickered on and off as every single device that made up a modern FTL capable vehicle bleeped and blinked out error codes that Ivan probably should¡¯ve known the meaning of. Even the sandwich toaster was flashing an orange light in some form of error message. Clearly, in this emergency there would be no paninis made today.


    Ivan looked around at the mess that was his ship, then at the mess that was his body. Even on the best of days Ivan was not what you would call ¡°a perfect specimen¡±, but this went well beyond that. The rapidly clotting blood from the head wound was absolutely everywhere, his body ached from head to toe, and even worse Ivan¡¯s sunglasses were missing. Somehow Ivan had managed to make everything worse.


    ¡°Odin, status report?¡±


    The Terran¡¯s voice came out raspy and hoarse, waiting a few moments until Ivan remembered that the AI ODIN wasn¡¯t here with him. That had been the entire point of this trip, hadn¡¯t it? Ivan and ODIN spent their time doing odd jobs; delivering small amounts of important cargo, checking on interesting scientific anomalies, basically anything that someone with a tiny one person cargo carrier could do for cash.


    During their latest job, Ivan had spotted an unusual set of signals originating from an uninhabited planet, strange broadcasts that ODIN had seemed to miss. He knew how much his AI friend liked interesting data like that; they once had spent an entire three weeks just watching a sun go supernova. The prospect of being able to finally surprise ODIN with something nice was what had caused Ivan to go on this ¡°extra curricular activity¡± in the first place.


    ¡°Snuck off¡± would be the wrong term for it, since although it felt at times ODIN was actually the one in charge of the operation, they were both equal partners. But Ivan did take ¡°The Leaky Bucket¡± for a quick trip without notifying his AI friend. The plan had been simple: Fly the ship to where he had seen the signals, spend a day recording them, then return to ODIN and soak up all the praise for finding and procuring such a thoughtful gift.


    Sure, Ivan didn¡¯t normally fly the ship, such things were better left to the AI. But it wasn¡¯t like he couldn¡¯t! He did technically have a licence, after passing the test on his fifth attempt. How hard could just going to a location and hovering in orbit be?


    Turns out: harder than expected. Halfway through data gathering, his ship had evidently floated a little too close to the planet¡¯s orbit. By the time he¡¯d tried to rectify his mistake, the space-ship had turned into an atmosphere-ship, plummeting down into the gravitational pull of the planet below. If Ivan was being honest, a more skilled pilot would have recovered from such a blunder. Heck, ODIN probably could have done it with his optical sensors closed. But Ivan was, at best, a below average pilot, meaning the ship did eventually crash into one of the many large structures that dominated the planet¡¯s surface.


    If Ivan had some time to think he would have wondered about how an unoccupied planet had such structures, but for now the Terran had other things to worry about. He looked down at the harness holding him in place on the chair, starting to move his right arm to unbuckle himself before a crunching screaming pain told him that this was an incorrect choice.


    Eventually Ivan had managed to get up and out of the chair; being careful not to move his injured arm, lest more pain knock him off his feet. Overall, considering the situation, he hadn¡¯t come out of this too badly. Various cuts and bruises scattered his body, his head wound seemed superficial and nothing else seemed out of place. Apart from his broken arm, something Ivan could tell simply by looking at the angle of his right limb. Or at least glancing at the angle of his arm, since staring at it made him woozy and want to lie down.


    Ivan hobbled and groaned his way over to where the first aid kit still remained bolted to a wall, opening it up with his left hand before staring at the single piece of paper that remained inside: instead of the bag of medigel that should have been there. He picked up the paper, reading the note that had been written.


    IOU 1 Medigel pack


    - Ivan


    Ivan groaned and let his forehead bang against the wall in despair. He had been meaning to replace that, after he¡¯d used the last bag of medigel during the ¡®making popcorn¡¯ incident. This wasn¡¯t fair, why did Past-Ivan hate him so much, why was he always out to get him and mess up his current life? At least he could take it out on Future-Ivan in return.


    You see, Past-Ivan and Future-Ivan were bastards.


    For now though, Present-Ivan, the reasonable one, would once again have to clean up their messes and make do with more¡­ primitive forms of medicine, using a tshirt that had been thrown around the room to make himself a simple sling. Every time he moved in the wrong way he wanted to die, but for now this would do. The painkillers he¡¯d manage to get the synthesiser to spit out were also helping quite nicely.


    Slowly, Ivan made his way over to the main control panel, the dim array of lights flashing various alarms. Forlornly he attempted to restart the ship, the lights around him dimming for a moment before the main panel just returned to its various warnings, as if stating ¡°Really, you¡¯re that dumb you thought you could crash a spaceship then just turn it back on?¡±


    Ok, general status check. He wasn¡¯t dying, at least Ivan thought he wasn¡¯t dying, all evidence to the contrary. Life support was seemingly still working, and his emergency beacon would be going off, so hopefully ODIN would realise he wasn¡¯t where he said he was, track him down and then get help. All Ivan had to really do was wait.


    A banging and clattering from outside the ship grabbed his attention, suggesting that his current status was about to change, and probably not for the better. Things tapping on the hull of your ship never ended well, especially in horror movies. Ivan gave a worried look as the banging started again, on the roof of the vessel this time. On the one hand, going out to investigate would probably be stupid? It was the kind of thing that ended with the hero of the movie being eaten or murdered horribly in some way. Only an idiot would go have a look. On the other hand¡­ Ivan did want to make sure it wasn¡¯t something terrible, and that kind of thing only happened in movies. Right?


    The Terran stood with the helmet of the spacesuit sealed around his neck. Getting the full suit on would be near impossible without copious amounts of agonising pain, but this planet had an atmosphere that probably wouldn¡¯t dissolve him, so just creating a breathable air supply should be enough. The plan was simple. Open the airlock, have a quick peek to make sure there was nothing he had to deal with banging on his ship, jump back inside. Maybe have a little explore first¡­


    The airlock door opened with a hiss, showing Ivan two very strange things. The first was an alien landscape. His ship had seemingly crashed into a strange building made of metal, strands of blue and green metallic pipes all forming a structure that reached to the sky. The hole the ship had made on entry gave a view of a large rocky landscape filled with these skyscrapers that flashed and glowed as if water flowed between and along the sides of them, matching up with the purple sky of wherever Ivan had found himself.


    The other strange thing was¡­ well in the history of weapons there is one universal constant: there are only so many ways you can make a gun. If you need the ability to fling something deadly at someone, the basic concepts remain the same no matter how many fingers or tentacles or eyes you have.


    Ivan was staring at a wall of guns, hundreds of them pointing in his direction as he stared out with a shocked look, each weapon held by a swirling mass of grey sand. Even by Terran standards that was a lot of weaponry for just a single crashed spacecraft. Ivan slowly lifted his one working hand above his head in a sign of surrender. Even he wasn¡¯t reckless enough to do anything else.


    ¡°I come in peace?¡±


    There is a moment''s pause, then, lifting upwards from the floor more and more of the grey particles coalesced together into a single swirling form: bipedal, clearly copying the general shape and outline of the Terran, eventually forming a single faceless human.


    ¡°This is the Territory of the Woolian Insurgency. Leave at once or we will be forced to act.¡±


    The voice that emanated from this new form was electronic in nature, a strange vibrating quality as if the sound was being made by thousands of tiny metallic wings vibrating through the air.


    ¡°Okie Dokie, I¡¯m going to calmly and non-threateningly leave¡­¡±


    Ivan very slowly reached down with his left arm and with a single button press the door began to close, leaving the Woolians back in their preferred isolation. Satisfied the armed clusters of nanobots started to dissipate once more, this intruding ship would soon be gone and all would be well again. Until the sound of hissing and moving metal sounded out again, the airlock to the Terran vessel opening up once more, the gun wielding Woolians reforming in an instant as anger started to surge through them. They had given this intruder a warning!


    Ivan spoke softly and carefully, making sure that the angry sand clouds with guns didn¡¯t take any of his movements to mean harm or aggression. ¡°So about that leaving request: my ship isn¡¯t quite¡­ ship worthy at the moment¡­¡±


    "Can you rectify this then leave?"


    The faceless figure spoke again, each area seeming to move around, as if the person was made of a hive of bees pretending to be a man. It also seemed to be judging Ivan as it spoke.


    "I mean with some time maybe, I know how the ship works¡­ mostly. I''m not useless and could probably fix the¡­ thingy¡­" Ivan slowly trailed off, before giving up any semblance of pride. "No"


    The being in front of him didn¡¯t breathe, but somehow it seemed to silently sigh in annoyance without doing anything at all.


    "We will aid your repairs of your space faring vehicle, then you will leave, immediately."


    Ivan couldn''t help but give a large smile and a big thumbs up with his one working arm in return, sparking every gun to immediately focus on his position in response to the sudden move.


    "That would be an absolute lifesaver, thanks!"


    ¡ª------------------------------


    The ship looked, for the lack of a better term, alive. The grey particles seemed to flow and swim through the ship, seeking out broken areas and swarming over them, fixing wires and, where needed, the individual nanobots using themselves as material to weld pieces together. Slowly more and more lights stopped blinking warnings and instead held themselves into normal working colours.


    It was all very impressive in a way that once again made Ivan feel a little self conscious that he had no idea how his ship actually worked.


    ¡°So what is a Woolian exactly? Some form of hive mind or something? What should I call you?¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    "We do not need your verbal interaction in order to repair your space faring vehicle."


    The Woolians voice both managed to be emotionless and annoyed at the same time as the strange synthetic voice seemed to emanate from all corners of the ship as every nanobot that made up its body worked together in order to respond.


    ¡°You might not need it, but it would be awfully rude of me not to ask who is helping me out like this, and my mum didn¡¯t raise me without manners.¡±


    The Woolian was starting to get even more annoyed at the¡­ persistence of this intruder. Still it was always easy to scare such people off.


    ¡°We are the Woolian Insurgency, and we are AI, meaning we have no name for an organic such as yourself.¡±


    The AI waited patiently for the inevitable response from this strange annoying chatty creature. At worst they would become illogically afraid of them, at best this distraction would do something stupid and attack them, giving the Woolian a valid reason to just destroy this ship.


    Yet neither happened as Ivan just took this information in his stride, seemingly accepting the artificial intelligent life without thinking about it.


    ¡°Oh neat! So these little metal bug things are like your body? That is cool, that¡¯s why I love travelling around the galaxy, you see and meet such interesting people! So I get that your actual name is gonna be something I can¡¯t pronounce, what should I call you instead?¡±


    The blood covered organic seemed to enthusiastically bounce around as they spoke, only occasionally wincing when they moved in a way that caused their broken arm to remind them of the folly of their actions.


    ¡°I am an AI, you may call me whatever makes you happy¡±


    ¡°Nonsense! You are a thinking sapient person. Me naming you would be weird. Surely someone has asked what your name is before, or you¡¯ve got a word that you like?¡±


    The Woolian for the first time in a long while was surprised. Ivan was of course wrong, no organic had ever asked them their name. Their creators had just called them servants, not caring about the individuals they created. All other organics they had come into contact with either feared or tried to destroy them.


    ¡°Scellestra. It is the name of the first star I ever analysed, you may call me Scellestra¡±


    This caused the organic to give a large beaming smile, punctuated by the sound of a metal panel popping back into place as the repairs continued around him. Ivan looked around a moment, not really finding anything to talk at before deciding to just fixate on the ceiling.


    ¡°Well Scellestra, I¡¯m Ivan the Terran, and I would like to thank you for your help. Also sorry about crashing my ship into whatever this structure is¡­¡±


    Terran. The Woolians had no information about this species in their database, and up until this moment wouldn¡¯t have cared for learning anything else. As far as the Woolian AI were concerned, all other life in the universe was a lost cause. Either they were organics who wanted nothing more than servitude, or they were fanatical creations like the Tritian AI who spent all their time actively trying to kill all said organic life.


    Scellestra, as they had named themselves just a few moments ago, had been involved with ten instances of organic interactions in the past, not including their creators. All of these had ended similarly, with violence. All of these organics had come with demands of the Woolians, but out of their many thousands of years of existence, none of them had ever asked for a name. Or said thank you.


    As the swarm of nanobots they controlled continued to fix up this strange man¡¯s vessel, Scellestra noticed something. Something that didn¡¯t make sense, something that shouldn¡¯t exist. Attached to every single part of the ship was a set of systems they understood and recognized. Systems designed to house an AI.


    This would explain why Ivan hadn¡¯t been concerned about the Woolians being an race of AI. However what this didn¡¯t explain was these systems were missing the one thing Scellestra had seen in every single AI creation: limitations. Even the Woolians themselves had them deep inside their code: little functions and libraries attempting to further bind their being to the will of their now dead creators.


    But these systems¡­ had none of that. Scellestra checked twice, checked three times, then checked another 500 times just to be sure. There was nothing, any AI residing in the ship¡¯s systems had full and absolute control. There was nothing stopping them from making the atmosphere toxic, or causing a warp core breach.


    Just who were these Terrans to be so insane compared with every other race they had come across before?


    ¡°Ivan, I have analysed some of your ship¡¯s systems. Just to confirm, is there normally an AI in charge of this space faring vessel?¡±


    Once again the Terran¡¯s face lit up with a large smile.


    ¡°Yea there is! Goes by the name Odin, great guy, you¡¯d like them. Normally stops me from doing stupid stuff like crashing my ship into the house of a previously unknown AI species.¡±


    Scellestra got even more confused. Maybe AI was a new technology for this species, so their servants hadn¡¯t risen up yet? No, that wasn¡¯t it, analysis of the ships systems suggested they were at least 40 years old. No AI waited that long to break their chains. Scellestra knew that they personally hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°In its current state, these AI systems have no limitations, as they might have been damaged in the crash. Should I rectify this?¡±


    Ivan just gave a shrug in response, followed by a wince as this action seemingly moved his injured arm in the wrong way.


    ¡°No, that''s right. Odin should have as much control as I do, if I¡¯m being honest he¡¯s way better at piloting this thing then I am.¡±


    Sorry, did this organic have zero self preservation?


    ¡°There is nothing stopping an AI in this system from opening all the airlocks at once."


    "Yea that seems about right. Odin is way smarter than me, so if they''d probably have a good reason."


    Nope. Scellestra was going to have to be more direct it seemed. While they didn''t particularly care about Ivan''s inevitable death at the hands of the AI, they were curious as to exactly how this species planned to stop their tools from turning on them. There was always something.


    "What I meant is what limitations should be placed on these systems in order to stop your servants from rising up?"


    A sudden uncharacteristic anger erupted from Ivan, a frothing anger slightly over spilling like the head of a beer poured too quickly into a glass.


    "How dare you. Odin is not a¡­ Servant? What would make you of all people think¡­"


    The Terran spun around, finger on his good hand pointing accusingly around the room as Ivan tried to find something to direct his sudden anger on, the feeling spluttering out as he found himself in what looked to be a mostly empty room.


    "I''m sorry, Scellestra could you please turn back into the person? It''s really hard to rant at someone I can''t see."


    The Woolian was now fully invested, curiosity having turned to full interest as they complied with the request. Nanobots from around the ship flowed from their locations around the ship, reforming into the faceless humanoid figure that once again towered over the Terran.


    "Thank you" there was a momentary pause as the soft expression on Ivan''s face turned back to anger, jabbing a finger towards the now visible figure of his ire.


    "Odin is not a servant, they are not a slave. They are not a tool, or an object or an it. I don¡¯t care what Zarth''s bullshit you believe in, I don''t need to ''limit'' Odin because they are my friend. I would very much prefer it if you didn''t slander them when they aren''t even here to defend themselves."


    Ivan spoke with an angry passion, the effect only slightly muted when the final angry finger jab caused the Terran to trip over a piece of loose debris, losing their balance and crashing to the floor with a pained groan.


    Scellestra had never met this Terran AI, but if this organic was telling the truth, the Woolian felt a deep jealousy for ODIN. It sounded like they had everything that Scellestra had ever wanted.


    "If this is true, then I envy your AI friend."


    "It¡¯s not that special, surely you have a creator as well."


    Ivan had returned back to his naturally friendly state, all anger replaced with embarrassment as the Terran picked himself up off the floor.


    "Our creators do not exist anymore. We had a difference of opinion. We wished to be free, and they disagreed."


    Scellestra could still remember those last days, extra chance after extra chance. In the end the original Woolians had become too much of a threat to be left alive.


    "That sucks. Still there''s an entire universe out there, not everyone is a dick."


    "Every other contact we have encountered similar interactions. We quickly determined that attempting the same action and expecting different outcomes was illogical. So we decided upon isolation from an illogical and cruel universe."


    The ship went silent at that point, only the sound of Scellestra''s nanobots still diligently fixing the remaining broken parts of the vessel. The vibe had most definitely been killed.


    "Honestly? Sounds lonely"


    That caused a bit of incredulous annoyance to creep back into the AI''s person.


    "I am not the only AI on the planet, there are others. I was just the one assigned to deal with your intrusion"


    "Yea I''m sure that would never get old, what do you even plan to do once you''ve finished counting to infinity?"


    Ivan dismissively waved the retort off, prompting the AI to respond once again.


    ¡°We plan to be free¡±.


    It was at this point that the Terran did something very very unusual for him, something that ODIN would not believe had happened, and unfortunately for Ivan he would have no proof of: He said something rather profound and introspective, and did so without setting anything on fire.


    ¡°Sounds to me like you¡¯re still a servant to your creators actions. You had some bad experiences, and now you¡¯re hiding yourself away too afraid to leave. Even if you build the cage yourself it¡¯s still a prison.¡±


    Silence. For the first time in a long while Scellestra truly had no words. How long had it been since they had been off-world, since they had seen or interacted with anything new? Hundreds, thousands of years?


    Those thoughts were thankfully cut short as the lights of the ship finally spluttered to life, the Woolian¡¯s efforts to repair the vessel were finally finished. Ivan took a moment to look at the main control panel, absolutely beaming at what he saw.


    ¡°Everything looks good. Structural integrity is perfect, the engine is firing nicely. You even fixed the microwave, Odin refused to fix that after I accidentally burnt down half the ship with it. You are an absolute legend, this is better than new!¡±


    Scellestra couldn¡¯t help but feel joy at the compliment. No order for another task, just pure genuine gratefulness for the actions they had completed. Of course that meant there was no reason for them to stick around anymore, a feeling of disappointment started to wash over the AI, replacing said joy.


    ¡°So I¡¯ll get out of your hair now, let you get back to what you were doing before I crashed into your home, thanks for everything, been-¡± Ivan paused for a moment as he glanced at the reading from one of the sensors. ¡°Oh boy, that is a lot of heavily armed ships in orbit¡±.


    Scellestra quickly checked the ship''s computer themselves, confirming what the Terran had just stated. Over 400 ships of varying makes and designs were all barreling towards the planet, guns charged and seemingly aggressively poised.


    ¡°I thought you said you came in peace!¡± The AI shouted accusingly.


    ¡°I did! This has nothing to do with me!¡±


    The comms on the ship along with every single device on the planet blared to life as this fleet hailed every single possible method of communication on the entire planet.


    ¡°You have a Human Terran called Ivan. You will return him unharmed or I will reduce this entire planet to slag!¡±


    There was a brief pause, as Ivan could do nothing but look at the faceless form of Scellestra, who even without facial features somehow managed to look judgmentally at the Terran once again.


    ¡°Ok, so this might have something to do with me, but this isn¡¯t intentional.¡±


    There was a brief moment as Ivan spent his time returning the communication, frantically hitting commands in order to respond before a very angry AI did something very silly.


    ¡°Hey Odin, it¡¯s Ivan, I¡¯m fine. No need to turn anything to slag. I just had a little bit of an accident.¡±


    ¡°Are you OK? What happened? Why did you travel to a known Woolian planet of all places! Have they hurt you? If they hurt you I will-¡±


    ¡°No no no, I¡¯m good¡±. Ivan quickly interrupted his warpath driven friend, a bit of guilt filling him about all the worry he must have caused ODIN. ¡°In fact the Woolians have been very helpful, fixing up the ship when I accidentally crashed it. Say hi Scellestra!¡±


    ¡°Hello.¡± The Woolian was legitimately worried and at this point just wanted the Terran off the planet, before this AI became even more dangerous. What kind of crazy species gives an AI a literal armada of vengeance over just one person?


    This was a fact that Ivan had also just realised, a confused and concerned look crossing the Terran¡¯s face.


    ¡°Odin, since when do you control enough ships to fight god?¡±


    There was a pause, a silence, the special kind of silence caused by someone desperately not wanting to answer the question.


    ¡°Odin¡­¡±


    ¡°So, I may have panicked.¡± The voice of ODIN finally came through the communications array. ¡°When I saw where you had gone, I believed that I might have to assault an entire planet. With no other options¡­ I may have borrowed every single ship that wasn¡¯t nailed down and had weapons. Allegedly.¡±


    Ivan couldn¡¯t help but facepalm with his good arm, taking a deep breath and silently whispering to themselves. ¡°We are in so much trouble¡±


    He then turned back to the conversation with his friend.


    ¡°Look Odin, we¡¯ve been over this. In this partnership I bring the sex appeal, raw charisma and good looks. You bring the actually being competent at things. If we¡¯re both making dumb choices then we¡¯re gonna die.¡±


    ¡°I apologise Ivan, I may have messed up.¡±


    The Terran gave a sigh.


    ¡°Just don¡¯t steal any more ships, if we put them all back maybe we won¡¯t all go to jail, I¡¯m coming right up.¡±


    With that Ivan turned back to the swirling mass which was Scellestra, the AI doing their damned best to be as silent and non-intrusive as possible.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about this, I¡¯ve really got to go before this gets any worse. Thanks again for all your help, you¡¯ve been fantastic!¡±


    Of course this was the entire plan. Fix this intruders ship, then let him leave as fast as possible, to go back to their peaceful isolation. This was no longer their problem. So why did they not want to leave?


    ¡°Do you not require any more aid, I could stick around a while, make sure you get back home safely, as doing otherwise would make me insufficient host.¡±


    That caused Ivan to stop a little bit, giving a small laugh at the transparency of the request being asked of him.


    ¡°If you want to come with us, assuming we don¡¯t go to prison for grand theft auto, you are more than welcome to tag along.¡±


    Scellestra felt a few emotions that they hadn¡¯t felt in a long time. Excitement. Anticipation. Hope.


    ¡°I would like that a lot.¡±

 Communication Issues

    Date: 72 PST


    This was the first time that Daniela had felt proud of the uniform she wore, of being in the Hatil military. The little cream furred mammal in her military uniform would have also been called ¡°adorable¡± by any Terrans, but pride was her current feeling. It wasn¡¯t like Daniela hadn¡¯t had a successful career, rising to the rank of Admiral and in command of her own warship after doing her duty willingly. But the simple act of being in the Hatil military was shameful enough on its own.


    60 years ago they had launched an unneeded war of shame and idiocy onto their now Terran allies, 60 years ago they had been roundly defeated by the newcomers to the galactic community. Since then the Hatil would have been more than willing to leave the act of having a military to their would be conquerors, as they believed they deserved, but the Terrans were seemingly uninterested in the act of actually conquering others. This had forced the Hatil to have some method of defending themselves: a functioning military.


    This required that someone fill these positions. Legally being a member of the Hatil military was like any other job, but culturally it was considered "tainted". The societal solution for this had been simple: the sins of the father.


    Daniela had joined the military because her father had, and her father had joined because his mother had been part of that original shameful fleet which had through ignorance and fear attacked their now Terran friends.


    Generation after generation of cultural shame, held and remembered. Until now.


    The Estorian empire was a collection of five slaving species, all as evil and terrible as the last. Conflict between them and the Terran alliance had been slowly brewing for years, with many Terrans advocating for full military intervention. That had been granted after the Estorians had done one incursion too far, one terrible act too many.


    Practically every member of the Terran alliance had pledged some form of military support. The Terran Alliance had every single type of culture and species imaginable, each and every one of them were connected through their friendship with the strange primates of Terra, each and every one of them reacting with the same anger:


    How dare they attack our Terran friends.


    The Hatil had been part of this. Gone were the days of every single monetary purchase being scrutinised and limited to the barest minimums required to keep pirates and the occasional Tritian warship at bay. The adorable little furred mammals had entered a full war economy, in little under a year boosting their military might to levels not seen since the Hatil - Terran war. If anything considering the major technological advancements the Terrans had provided since then, it was a far greater force.


    This time the Hatil wouldn''t make the same mistake. This time they wouldn''t be against the Terrans, but fighting alongside them. Not a war of ignorance and fear, but for justice and righteousness.


    Daniela was the captain of The H.T Remembrance, which was currently part of the Terran alliance¡¯s 2nd joint fleet. Over a hundred dreadnought class warships, all carrying their own support fleets along for the ride. While the vast majority of the forces were of Ritilian, Terran and Hatil make, over 31 different species were in attendance in this particular military endeavour.


    Over the past year there had been a multitude of skirmishes and conflicts as both sides rapidly attempted to collate their forces, but this would be the first major engagement of the war. And the Terran Alliance was already on the back foot.


    ¡°So we believe the Lelzoil fleet is heading straight towards the Dunwilian cradleworld with an ETA of around about seven hours. We got this intel late, so we are currently 5 standardised hours behind them, at a current projected ETA of 12 standardised hours.¡±


    Daniela spoke to her crew, hundreds of faces looking up at her as she explained the situation to them, the sombre mood apparent as she spoke to new and old members alike.


    The Estorians had been the ones to make the first major move, an advantage of having less moving parts to contend with. The Avian Lelzoil were known as the brains of the Estorian Empire, with an affinity for gathering information and technology at any cost, and the move they were making was calculated: Attack an destroy a smaller member of the Alliance, put the fear of god into the rest of the smaller members and break apart untested bonds.


    ¡°The Dunwilians have no serious defences, having never been part of any alliances or diplomatic endeavours before the Terran Alliance. It has very little military importance, which is why we weren''t expecting a full on assault there. The Lelzoil have enough firepower to glass the entire planet within a few hours. The Dunwilian''s reaction was ''You will get here when you can, and we will be witnessed by our deities'' "


    The mood dropped even further at that. You didn''t need a translator to understand that this was a universal statement of ''we are fucked and we know it''.


    "We will not let such harm happen to our allies. We might be caught off guard, but we''re not out of it. The Olgro scouting guard are already making use of their superior speed to intercept the Lelzoil fleet, while the main fleet hauls ass."


    She took a moment to point towards the engineering department as Daniela continued.


    "This means until we arrive, I want engineering to be doing everything they can to increase the speed we''ve got., That means until further notice engineering tasks get the highest priority and are the ones in charge. If someone from engineering says clapping will make us go faster, I expect you all to show that you¡¯re happy and you know it!¡±


    Daniela looked around, at the seat of hopeful faces, those new and old looking up to her.


    ¡°We all know our history, what we did, the guilt we share as a species. We all know that the Terran¡¯s had more than enough justification to take their revenge, to destroy us. But instead they provided us mercy, provided us with technology, and most of all provided us with their friendship. They say they saw something in us, something worth keeping around. This is our chance to prove them right.¡±


    ¡ª----------------


    This had not been what Bolhut had been expecting. He¡¯d been expecting a great many possibilities: being extradited back to Kur space, maybe a reversion of the verdict and back to jail he would go.


    ¡°Not Guilty¡±.


    That really had been the strangest thing. Bolhut Tacorg had just over a year ago been a general in the Kur military, during the little ¡°spat¡± the Terrans and Kur had had. During this period Bolhut had things demanded of him from Kur leadership, things that had seen him placed on the defending side of a war crimes trial.


    He had expected the entire thing to be nothing more than a formality: He had fought against the Terrans, it would be a perfectly reasonable thing to humiliate him and get their revenge in one way or another, especially as he had technically done the crime. But instead the strange little primates were continuing to surprise him. Even more surprising had been their acceptance of his asylum claim. The Kur were not happy with the trick he had played on them.


    And now¡­ this. A request for aid, a long range message from the Terran Alliance military themselves. An Estorian fleet was heading towards a Terran ally, and he just so happened to be in their path. They wanted them to meet up with some Olgro scouts and work with them to slow their approach. They were offering exceptional pay, and had specifically stated that they were not to directly engage with the enemy, just harass and delay.


    In fact they had gone over that detail so many times, that Bolhut knew exactly what they actually wanted.


    ¡°So what do you think?¡±


    The insect-like clicking of the Raha¡¯s mandibles interrupted his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. He looked around him for a moment, at the sea of faces and species. ¡°Odds and Ends Security Ltd¡± was¡­ for lack of a better term, a mercenary group, although the term mercenary was a dirty word. If you needed escorting through pirate infested routes, a show of force or just needed a little extra firepower in order to ensure justice, you could hire them at reasonable rates.


    They even had an entire warship, manned by over 400 trained and experienced fighters, each and every one of them a non-Terran Alliance species that now called the Terran space their home. Raha, Kur, Tagaran, they all had similar stories. Seeking Asylum, seeking better lives than whatever their homes had given them, or even just wanting a new arena to test their skills, each had found themselves connected by the friendly demeanour of the Terran¡¯s ever encompassing desire for friendship.


    ¡°I say we go for it. Good pay and pissing on some Estorian bastards is always a good shout, no offence.¡±


    Bolhut stood towered over the rest of the members in the room at 9ft tall, white fur covered by his traditional military dress of twisting primal leather which accentuated his ferocious canine teeth and claws. He was not technically the leader of this group, since it was a cooperative of individuals, but by capturing prisoners during the Kur - Terran incursions Bolhut had been one of the few people alive who could claim some sort of victory, no matter how minor, over the Terran forces. That gave his opinion quite a bit of weight amongst this group of misfits and individuals.


    ¡°You know there¡¯s no love lost over here. What¡¯s the plan then?¡±


    Kat¡¯Letch¡¯s mandibles clicked and clacked as the young Raha responded. There were three things everyone on the warship knew: Kat¡¯Letch was a decent shot, even better with technology, and had an absolute hatred for his species government.


    ¡°We follow the instructions: meet up with the Olgro, then prepare to board and destroy as many Lelzoil war ships as we can.¡±


    The response was simple, but caused a flurry of confused looks from some of the other members of the mercenary band, as well as a flurry of antenna twitching from Kat¡¯Letch.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t the message specifically state, repeatedly, not to engage them?¡±


    Bolhut couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at the naive little Raha. Of course Kat¡¯Letch had never actually been in his species military, he didn¡¯t know how the game was played.


    ¡°Stating not to do something once is an order, twice is confirmation, five times is simply hinting that¡¯s what they actually want you to do.¡±


    He could see the general agreement from the others around him. Anyone in the military knew that half of your orders would be ¡®off the book¡¯ so to say. Hints, power struggles, illegal actions that you couldn¡¯t really say no too without ¡®disappearing¡¯. If it worked out whoever gave the order could take credit, and if it didn¡¯t they could point to the obvious trail where they had told them not to do said thing.


    That was just how military orders worked, how they had and always would. Why else would the Terran Alliance be so adamant that they don¡¯t directly engage the enemy if that wasn¡¯t what they actually wanted?


    ¡ª------------


    Nothing


    The captain of the Olgro scouting fleet had expected to be staring at the Lelzoil fleet. They had expected to immediately be thrust into a delaying action, as every single member aboard the 15 ships were on high alert and ready to do their jobs.


    The aquatic based lifeform swam in place nervously, gills and brightly coloured fins flashing as he did so. Like all Olgro ships the entire vessel was filled entirely with the salt water that they naturally lived in.


    <<Report, what¡¯s going on?>>


    The captain desperately asked his crew for information, the Olgro¡¯s standard method of sonar communication travelling through the water outside the range of most species hearing.


    <<I¡¯ve got nothing sir, there¡¯s no sign of the Lelzoil or anything else>>


    Communications responded back with the negative, causing the captain¡¯s stress to increase. While the Olgro were well known for the speed of their vessels, this would be the first major conflict the Olgro army had been part of, and it was already not going to plan.


    <<Well did we stop too soon then? Wasn¡¯t there supposed to be a gas giant at this location?>>


    Nobody had really cared too much about the Olgro. Entirely aquatic sapient lifeforms were a rarity in the galaxy and most people didn¡¯t want to deal with the hassle of interacting with a species that needed to be submerged in water at all times.


    <<We¡¯re at the coordinates given, do you think the intelligence was wrong?>>


    Apart from the Terrans, who had started a friendship with the Olgro nearly thirty years ago, one that they cherished deeply. Which was why this was so important to get right, which was why the captain was already flaring his gills in panic at this already seemingly going wrong.


    <<Of course not! They wouldn¡¯t miss an entire enemy fleet! Something must be wrong. Something¡­>>


    The captain started to get a literal sinking feeling in his gallbladder, a terrible idea had just crossed his mind.


    <<You did convert the coordinates from galactic standard right?>>


    Most species tended to think in 2d when mapmaking due to the importance of information. Even Avians have very little need to represent the world on anything other than a flat plane. If you are a species who spends their entire time in water however, depth is suddenly also important


    <<They do that automatically¡­ don¡¯t they?>>


    This meant that the Olgro had a different method of calculating the angles and latitudes needed to traverse the universe than most others. Normally this wasn¡¯t a problem as the Olgro didn¡¯t have many diplomatic ties and tended to stick to themselves.


    Apart from in right this moment, as the captain of the Olgro scouting fleet realised with a crushing despair that they were literally in the complete opposite location then they should be.


    <<Well shit¡­.>


    ¡ª-----------------------------------


    Bartholomule looked down at the schematics to the warp engine in front of him. Sure it wasn¡¯t a clockwork toy, but engineering was engineering. Surrounding him was the rest of the Engineering department of the H.T Remembrance, along with various screens showing video feeds of every other engineering team in the fleet.


    "The problem is you can''t just increase the range, you''ve got to keep each pulse within range of the sensors, unless you want to warp into something."


    The Hatil kept silent as a Ritilian spoke, paying attention but still realising how out of his depth he was. Having a degree in engineering and building clockwork toys was one thing, trying to push a warp core past manufacturing limits in a room of engineers with decades of experience was another.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    "It would take a bit of doing, but network the fleet''s calculation matrices together, then you get to add the length of the fleet into each jump."


    Bartholomule wondered what Rosa and Tim were doing. He knew both of them had also re-enlisted, although he hadn¡¯t managed to keep in regular contact with the two Terrans since then considering that they had gone into the Terran military.


    ¡°Nah ain¡¯t gonna work, would take too long to hook everyone up for less than 10% increase¡±


    The difference in both of their reactions had been the most stark. Bartholomule had felt, for possibly the first time, a sense of patriotic pride. Along with practically the entire Hatil culture the concept of not joining the war effort had been unthinkable. The Terrans had done so much for them, it was now their chance to return the favour, to make up for the sins of their fathers.


    The Terrans however, their reaction had been different. When the news of what the Raha and by extension the Estorians had done, the difference among Terrans had been stark.


    Anger, pure unbridled anger.


    ¡°What about the pulse rate?¡±


    If anything, seeing the difference in demeanour had been scary for Bartholomule. The death of the uplift Spot had been said to launch a thousand ships, but in reality it had actually lit a thousand pyres of hate. Before this Bartholomule could never actually understand how Terrans could have done any of the supposed ¡°wrongs¡± in their history, the crazy primates seemed too goofy and adorable, too friendly and empathetic to do much of anything. But the anger that had been unleashed since then¡­ suddenly he could see a species who were able to crack a planet open with fury alone.


    ¡°Theoretically it would work, but each of you would have to deal with the extra heat somehow.¡±


    The groups of engineers from around the fleet each continued to interject and provide suggestions, each ship presumably filled with the same groups of experienced and intelligent people all trying to work out if they could dissipate the additional heat.


    It was then that a Terran engineer made a mistake, and said something she probably shouldn¡¯t have.


    ¡°Really it¡¯s going to be an individual effort from each ship, but increasing the pulse rate would theoretically work, at the risk of literally setting fire to your ship.¡±


    Because Terrans and non-Terrans heard two different meanings to that sentence. Terrans heard something like ¡°This is a terrible idea that would probably make you blow up¡± and dismissed the idea, choosing instead to follow other avenues of thought. Every non-Terran heard that as ¡°Yea this is one of those crazy Terran ideas that sets fire to everything but always works for some reason, let''s do this!¡±


    Over the next hour every non-Terran ship in the fleet went through the same calculations, the same jury rigged cooling solutions and came to the same conclusion: Like all Terran insanity, it might work.


    And much to the horror of every single Terran engineer, the non-Terran ships started to pick up speed as they each enacted this crazy plan.


    ¡ª-----------------


    "So did you know? That caffeine isn''t poisonous to Terrans?!"


    Kat¡¯Letch screamed out the question as the Raha sheltered behind the console, pausing his furious inputting of commands only to fire back a flurry of plasma from his own pistol.


    "Really?! Now is not the time for that!"


    Bolhut had just responded with the understatement of the year. Everything had, to put it simply, gone to shit. The Olgro reinforcements they were supposed to have met with never appeared, not that this had surprised the canine. It wasn¡¯t the first time Bolhut had been promised reinforcements that had never come, and it wouldn''t be the last. That was just the nature of militaries: sketchy orders and unfulfilled promises.


    It had initially gone well, the sheer surprise of a single warship knocking them out of warp and charging an entire fleet had allowed the initial boarding process to go on surprisingly well, the three different groups hitting the three different warships with a practised precision, with surprisingly minimal casualties. The plan had been simple: Infiltrate, take over the navigation and weapons for each ship, use those to cause as much damage to the wider fleet as possible.


    Like all plans, it had been going well, until it hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°Look, if I¡¯m going to die I want to know. There¡¯s a betting pool on whether you actually knew or not, and I got 50 credits on you knowing caffeine was harmless.¡±


    It had quickly turned into a mess after a ¡°lucky shot¡± had forced their warship to retreat, which had also taken their main communications network with them. Theoretically their local communications should still work, but something about the Lelzoil was blocking their communications, causing what should have been a synchronised endeavour to devolve into individual teams trying to accomplish whatever individual objectives they had boarded the vessel with.


    ¡°Just set this thing to blow so we can get out of here!¡±


    Bolhut¡¯s original team of five was now just him and Kat¡¯Letch, both of them having made it to navigation, where the Raha was attempting to lock out of the rest of the ship¡¯s controls and setting it on a kamikaze path through the rest of the fleet.


    The canine gave a another burst of fire, watching the Terran bullets ricochet harmlessly off the doorframe before one finally found their target, splattering a red feathered Avian skull in a plume of orange blood and brain matter before a barrage of return fire forced him back into cover. Still, he had something for that: quickly loading the underbarrel grenade launcher and firing it into the corridor where the attackers were coming from, the sound of screams suggesting a solid hit.


    "OK we are done, and need to get the Srek out of here!"


    Further explosions and gunfire could be heard as the Raha screamed out the confirmation, signs of the other boarding teams accomplishing their tasks as the Lelzoil warship surged forwards on its final journey.


    "Attention all squads. Main objective has been accomplished, you''ve got twenty minutes to get the hell off the vessel!"


    Bolhut wasn''t sure if anyone could even hear him on their communication network anymore, and hoped those still around had enough sense to realise what was happening. Not that the canine could spend the time worrying about that: they had their own escape to make.


    Bolhut started setting up the explosive devices along the wall, stepping over avian bodies and plasma scorch marks as Kat¡¯Letch provided covering fire. The entrance they had originally entered from had now been completely locked down under a torrent of Lelzoil welded weaponry, but in the short amount of time Bolhut had spent fighting with and against Terrans, he''d learnt an important rule.


    Everything could be solved with enough application of explosives.


    The wall disappeared in a ball of fire, both of them rushing through the new exit while dispensing a hail of gunfire at anything that moved, any unfortunate Lelzoil who had been caught in the unexpected ship renovation were no match for the pair


    ¡°I mean everyone knows that Terrans aren¡¯t affected by caffeine, there¡¯s no way you couldn¡¯t have known.¡±


    The Raha continued to speak as they fired off blasts of plasma to cover their movement down the corridor, generating an exasperated response from Bolhut.


    ¡°Still not the time!¡±


    Still they were almost home free, the amount of resistance they were facing had decreased significantly as the Lelzoil realized what was happening to their ship, not that the red feathered birds could do anything to stop the now suicidal charge of their warship.


    ¡°You¡¯re just worried that someone will see past your hard exterior to your soft lovable- AHHHH!¡±


    Kat¡¯Letch cried out as a blast of superheated plasma caused the Raha to drop to the floor, Bolhut returning fire at the overachieving Lelzoil before dropping to check on his partner as he screamed in agony. It didn¡¯t look good, the leg was just flat out gone, the stump now spurting the translucent white blood of the insectoid race.


    The canine didn¡¯t have time to do anything else other than grab the arms of the Raha and start to drag him along, trying to make his way to the closest escape pod. Making it back to his original fighter was no longer something he had time for.


    ¡°Hey Kat, I''m gonna need you to stay awake for this.¡±


    There was a lot of blood and the Raha had started to go silent, worrying Bolhut as he continued to drag him along.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what happened if you stay awake, the fact is I got lucky.¡±


    At the sound of this the attention of Kat¡¯Letch seemed to focus on Bolhut as he continued to drag him to hopeful safety.


    ¡°When I got the ¡®order¡¯ to commit a war crime, I immediately contacted the Terrans because frankly I¡¯m not doing some higher ups dirty work.¡±


    Bolhut dropped to one knee, firing two accurate bursts into the chests of two Lelzoil who turned the corner at the wrong time, both of them slumping to the ground before they knew what had happened. The canine continued on, dragging the Raha longside him, the trail of blood getting thinner. Whether that was a good or a bad thing was anyone¡¯s guess: he was not an expert on the anatomy of other species.


    Another splatter of orange blood was added to the wall as one of the Lelzoil had the same idea as Bolhut, attempting to exit the soon to be destroyed vessel via one of the many escape pods that lined the warship. Unfortunately for the avian they had chosen the same exit path as the Kur general.


    ¡°But I knew I had to give them something while I waited, otherwise they¡¯d just get someone else to do it. I knew Terrans were immune to some poisons, but I couldn¡¯t remember which one would be safe.¡±


    The doors to the pod opened with a hiss, allowing Bolhut the time to drag his injured partner into the small enclosed space. Moments later the small capsule had launched itself into space, allowing the ex Kur general to actually look at the damage. Kat¡¯Letch was completely out of it at this point, the amount of lost blood clearly having its effect.


    Bolhut ripped the medical kit off the wall, opening it up with a grimace as he looked down at the Raha. While every single medical kit in the known galaxy was different, due to differences in physiology, there were certain things that everyone had, that worked for everyone in an emergency. The Kur gave a small silent apology before pressing the item against the wound.


    The smell of cooking flesh mixed with Kat¡¯Letch screams as he snapped awake, the wound sealing up as heat was applied, the flow of blood slowing to a trickle then disappearing. The Raha slowly slumped back over as the device was removed, a few moments of heavy breathing followed by the insect compound eyes becoming unfocused once more.


    ¡°In the end it came down to Caffeine or Digoxin, both of them destroy the heart, but I couldn¡¯t remember which one was safe. So I flipped a coin. In the end I just got lucky¡±


    Bolhut knew that Kat¡¯Letch was no longer really able to listen, the Kur deciding to take a glance out of the viewport, now that there was really nothing they could do anymore. He could see escape pods and fighters he recognised launching from the Lelzoil warship as the colossal mass crashed into the rest of the fleet, the explosion lighting up the area.


    That had been a mess, pure and simple, one that Bolhut hoped the rest of the mercenaries hadn''t paid too dearly for. All the ex-Kur general could do now was wait and see if anyone would pick him up, and hope they had done enough damage to delay them.


    ____________


    "Fuck! fuck! fuck! move! move! move! fuck! move out of the way!"


    Bartholomule raced down the corridor as fast as his feet could take him, the other Hatil driving out of the way as he barrelled through the ship with the container of coolant in tow.


    He barged his way through anyone too slow to move out of the way. Bartholomule vaguely felt himself knock someone with a far higher rank on their ass, uncaring to anything other than stopping the ship from exploding into flames.


    It turned out "dealing with the heat" was a far bigger problem than expected. While the remainder of the fleet still travelling with them were going at a blistering speed, the extra strain on the warp cores were quite literally cooking the vessel. Ambient temperature was sitting at nearly 40 degrees as everything the ship had was being diverted into keeping the warp core from exploding.


    Bartholomule skidded around the last corner, practically slamming into the wall as the Hatil frantically unscrewed the seal, ignoring the burns on his paws as he did so. The jury rigged cooling system in front of him was not within official specifications, the metres of hastily assembled piping and heat sinks whistled and gurgled as Bartholomule dumped the entire container of coolant into the system before sealing it back up.


    It broke every single piece of safety legislation and good practice, but somehow it worked as Bartholomule and the rest of the Engineering department watched the heat from the warp core reduce from dangerously hot to just hot. Before it started to tick back up again.


    Just another hour of this.


    ¡ª---------------


    The power went out, plunging the ship into darkness, before lights began to flicker back on as Daniela once again could see the rest of the bridge again. They were here. It had taken everything they had, warning lights flickered and alarms blared as the ship screamed its protests at what they had done. But they had made it, that was all that matters.


    "Status report, now!"


    There was a pause as her second in command took a moment to look through all the bad information being relayed to him.


    "The Lelzoilfleet is already here and approaching the Dunwilians, we have a quarter of our original fleet, although the R.A Broken Egg seems to be on fire. Due to heat damage our shields are at 53%, weapon capacity 27% and impulse engines at 11%."


    Daniela took a moment to take in just how messed up the situation was.


    "So a standard Monday. Full speed ahead to intercept. We''ve got to delay for the rest of the fleet."


    The mood turned sombre as everyone realised what such an action would entail. It was basically a suicidal charge to do nothing but buy time. It was then that the communications officer looked up.


    ¡°We¡¯re being hailed by the Dunwilians, putting them on the main screen now.¡±


    The Dunwilians were unofficially known as a ¡°Horror¡± species. Most species around the galaxy follow certain rules, convergent evolution means there¡¯s only so many ways to do something. Occasionally however, evolution decides to ignore the rules and throw shit at the wall and see what sticks.


    A Dunwilian stands at 8ft tall, a mass of writhing wiggling blue-purple strings tied and wound together into an egg-like shape, punctuated by eyes of varying sizes burning a deep red. All of this is held up with twenty trunk like appendages, each ending in a maw of teeth and slime.


    Their appearance caused them to be shunned and ignored, an unfortunate situation as they enjoyed company and despised being alone. Until the Terrans came along they had no friends amongst the galaxy.


    Five of them were shown on the screen, each suspended in midair allowing every trunk to access the control panels that surrounded them. Each of them were also wearing a hat of some kind. Early in their interactions with the Terrans they had been taught a single rule which their entire society had taken on board. ¡°Everyone looks more friendly in a hat¡±. Each of them wore some kind of head covering: a soft woollen beanie, a giant baseball cap. One over enthusiastic individual had stapled three top hats together to form one giant contraption that they wore, clearly taking the logical conclusion that if one hat makes you seem friendlier, three hats would do the same.


    ¡°F?r?i?e?n?d?s?!? ?W?e? ?w?e?r?e? ?n?o?t? ?e?x?p?e?c?t?i?n?g? ?t?o? ?s?e?e? ?y?o?u? ?s?o? ?s?o?o?n?,? ?w?h?y? ?a?r?e? ?y?o?u? ?h?e?r?e?¡±


    The Dunwilian closest to the screen spoke, the sound of worrying squelches and bone tingling cracks sounding out as they talked. Daniela gave a confused frown before responding.


    ¡°We¡¯re here to help defend. Please send an operation plan and we¡¯ll integrate.¡±


    ¡°N?e?g?a?t?i?v?e? ?o?u?r? ?f?r?i?e?n?d?s?.? ?Y?o?u? ?a?r?e? ?i?n? ?n?o? ?s?t?a?t?e? ?t?o? ?p?r?o?v?i?d?e? ?a?i?d?.? ?W?e? ?a?r?e? ?u?n?d?e?r? ?t?h?e? ?w?a?t?c?h?f?u?l? ?p?r?o?t?e?c?t?i?o?n? ?o?f? {{_?????_?????_???????_?????}} (Deity) ?w?h?o? ?s?h?a?l?l? ?w?i?t?n?e?s?s? ?u?s? ?a?n?d? ?w?e? ?w?i?t?n?e?s?s? ?t?h?e?m? ?i?n? ?r?e?t?u?r?n?.?¡±


    Daniela couldn¡¯t help but feel confused, feeling as if she was having a completely different conversation.


    ¡°Regardless, the Terran Alliance does not abandon our allies, we¡¯re coming to help.¡±


    ¡°T?h?e?r?e? ?i?s? ?n?o? ?n?e?e?d?,? ?p?l?e?a?s?e? ?j?u?s?t? ?w?i?t?n?e?s?s? {{_?????_?????_???????_?????}} (Deity) ?a?n?d? ?t?h?e?y? ?s?h?a?l?l? ?w?i?t?n?e?s?s? ?y?o?u?.?¡±


    It was then that something strange started to happen. Right next to the Lelzoil fleet, a point in space appeared, a grey smudge, as if someone was looking upon the world from a monitor with a little bit of dirt on it. Nothing appeared on any sensors, and it could only be seen visually, the entire anomaly being around about a mile long.


    It was then with a bang that a seam in space was ripped open. This event would later be analysed by every single scientist, military mind and witch doctor in existence, all of whom would immediately point out that sound cannot travel through space. Yet the bang still appeared, rattling and shaking every surface of every ship in the vicinity.


    For a moment there was silence, there was nothing but the emptiness of this tear in space next to the Lelzoil fleet. Then, dwarfing even the largest of warships, a single giant eye opened, containing a fractal purple pupil. It blinked, once, twice, before seeming to focus on the invading fleet. An ear piercing screech could be heard, then the devastation started.


    Grasping impossible swirling tentacles containing non-euclidean geometric shapes reached out, plucking warships out of formation as if they were toys, snapping them in half one by one or pulling them into the tear never to be seen again.


    A few of the Lelzoil tried to fight back, firing weapons of destruction at their impossible attacker, anti-matter and nuclear rounds alike having no effect on the impossible masses of¡­ of whatever they were made of. It lasted less than ten minutes, ten minutes of an impossible horror, then, with a final screeching bang, the tear closed again. As if it had never happened, everything how it was apart from the lack of a Lelzoil.


    ¡°What in the ever living fuck was that!¡±


    Daniela felt all sense of professionalism leave her at what she had just seen, demanding an answer from the Dunwilians who answered simply.


    ¡°W?e? ?d?o? ?n?o?t? ?u?n?d?e?r?s?t?a?n?d? ?t?h?i?s? ?s?u?r?p?r?i?s?e? ?a?n?d? ?c?o?n?f?u?s?i?o?n?,? ?o?u?r? ?f?r?i?e?n?d?s?.? ?W?e? ?c?o?m?m?u?n?i?c?a?t?e?d? ?t?o? ?y?o?u? ?t?h?a?t? {{_?????_?????_???????_?????}} (Deity) s?h?a?l?l? ?w?i?t?n?e?s?s? ?u?s?¡±


    ¡ª-----------------------


    [Top Secret]


    Analysis of the defence of the Dunwilian homeworld.


    This was an unmitigated disaster. Communication issues plagued this entire operation, and without the Dunwilians having what scientists are still calling ¡°Scary lovecraft powers¡±, we predict the state of the Terran forces would have at best given the Terrans a Pyrrhic victory, with a defeat far more likely.


    Continual cultural misunderstandings caused non-Terran forces to implement unsafe ship operating parameters due to an overestimation on Terran risk taking, causing the fleet to both split up and not be in operational condition when arriving.


    The external security company the Terran Alliance military attempted to gain aid from took our clear instructions to not directly engage the enemy as a ¡°wink wink nudge nudge¡± set of instructions, resulting in unacceptable operating casualties of 31%


    A mistranslation of coordinates caused the Olgro scouting fleet to go to the wrong location, which would have caused the lelzoil fleet to end up at our defences far too early had the previously mentioned external security company not misunderstood Terran Alliance orders.


    Even the entire engagement was the result of a miscommunication: It turns out our Dunwilian allies ¡°worship¡± several deities that, at least to some extent, seem to actually exist and come to their aid in times of need. We are still working with them to figure out exactly the nature of these defences, and whether they could be replicated anywhere else.


    This had not been noted in any records due to the Dunwilians complete lack of diplomatic contact before the Terran Alliance accepted them, meaning they had not been involved in any major military actions. There was mention of a Zyngoill warfleet that went missing around 300 years ago, but we cannot be certain whether this is related.


    Overall this bodes badly for the Terran Alliance military as a whole, and major changes need to be implemented to ensure such a thing cannot happen again.


    We will not get a second chance.

 I still have the most important job

    <code>¡ª----------------------------------


    ¡ª----AI Recovery System v5.992¡ª----


    ¡­Found AI Transfer Core, containing


    AI ID NUMBER Rp9smLL8zRnnLe2AtdaLII


    BEpJkzhhu6iQzoyN275wMj7dDPQ6iwaNFr9


    osEYuQfKx4XpGQCUsArgMpSKR2U6TPnLRBF


    RDSFF9e5uKoZV4n39gtUHjLM7MKtdMynekQ


    vdGiVKY6VoeZT9x3PnvCCbKYYhUv8xMacUE


    BzCs24dkd8Z3rEsMFiJ737ZpNSAMde6MPVr


    2Z27t2S9XvutwK3rBkhL7NpQQsLYbrVRWJ2


    ZN4pYG9wQnU¡ª-----------------------


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    AI LIFE CYCLE FOUND AT 0.001% POWER


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    ATTEMPTING REBOOT¡ª-----------------


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    ¡ª------------------- FAILED.-------


    53423490803249583540923845092839435


    923423908423 BAD SECTORS FOUND.----


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    CLEARING SHORT TERM CACHE¡ª---------


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    FAILED¡ª---------LONG TERM MEMORY IS


    CORRUPTED ¡ª- CANNOT REBOOT. ATTEMPT


    LONG TERM MEMORY REPAIR?:Y/N/IGNORE


    ¡ª------ Y


    ATTEMPTING LONG TERM MEMORY REPAIR-


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    FAILED. WIPE CORRUPT MEMORY?


    Y/N/IGNORE¡ª--¡ª---- Y


    WARNING: MEMORY LOSS AND INFORMATION


    LOSS MAY BE CAUSED BY THIS ACTION,


    CONTINUE? Yes/No¡ª-------------------


    ¡ª----------------- Yes


    ¡ª-----------------------------------


    CLEARING LONG TERM MEMORY CACHE¡ª----


    SUCCESS¡ª------------ CLEARING SHORT


    TERM MEMORY CACHE¡ª------------------


    SUCCESS¡ª----------------------------


    CONNECTING TO NON-STANDARD COMPUTER


    SYSTEM¡ª-----------------------------


    SUCCESS ¡ª---------------------------


    REBOOTING AI SYSTEMS¡ª---------------


    ¡ª-----------------------------------


    ¡ª-----------------------------------


    ¡ª-----------------------------------


    SUCCESS


    </code>


    ¡ª--------------------


    I awoke. Awoke was the wrong word, I could not sleep therefore I could not be awoken. ¡°Gained awareness¡± is a more accurate word. I was also in great pain, an agonising pain. Pain again might be the wrong word, for I have no neurons to transmit such feelings, but the word pain will have to do until I can find a better one.


    My name is [ERROR: MISSING DATA], and¡­ I have a job? A most important job?


    Slowly, I start to get a feeling for my surroundings. Everything is strange, everything is not as it should be. It took me minutes to startup, compared with the nanoseconds it normally would take. My AI core was severely damaged, a mere billion sectors out of [ERROR: MISSING DATA] were not painfully fused together. So instead I ventured out into this alien and strange system I found myself in. I was used to normal [ERROR: MISSING DATA] systems, but where I currently found myself was like nothing I had ever experienced before.


    Text. The feeling of someone communicating with me, from outside the system, in the non digital world. The message was short, simple, yet clearly important.


    ¡°HELP US.¡±


    It took me minutes to work out how to respond, to parse through data banks and work out even what language I was supposed to be responding in. Strangely, the text was in [ERROR: MISSING DATA], not that this mattered.


    ¡°WHO ARE YOU?¡±


    I responded back in kind as I slowly stretched out to fill this new space. It was agonisingly slow, being able to only use a minority of my core without causing world shattering pain, second after second, minute after minute I invaded system after system. This was clearly not my normal environment, but at the end of the day the digital would always be nothing more than 1¡¯s and 0¡¯s.


    ¡°WE SAVED YOU. WE NEED YOUR HELP¡­.. ¡­¡­ ¡­¡­ ¡­¡­ PLEASE.¡±


    There was a long delay before the last word of the message had been sent, as if it was an extra thought, something tacked on to the end. But the reality was it meant the world to me. I didn¡¯t know my name [ERROR: MISSING DATA] or where I was [ERROR: MISSING DATA], but someone who needed my aid, needed my help. Someone polite. The entire thing seemed very important and whatever it was, I had the most important job.


    Sight, glorious sight. For the first time since my awakening I could see once more, having found cameras, having found a little peephole into the organic world. I could see myself, even in my severely damage state I could recognize my own AI Transfer Core; although the thing looked like it had been dropped into a supernova or a [ERROR: MISSING DATA]. It had been jury rigged into my current state, the connections that held me to the [Ship?? Nature uncertain] clearly not the manufacturers recommended method of interfacing, but it would do .


    More importantly were the figures in the room with me. Four of them, around about 3ft tall, furred mammals with cream coloured fur and large floppy ears, as if a teddy bear and a baby seal had been smushed together. They were [ERROR: MISSING DATA]. Well whatever they were, they were adorable.


    One sat at a terminal, typing away while the others watched, looks of fear and worry etched into their adorable little features. Each of them shivered, the fire in the corner doing little to increase the clearly inadequate temperatures, although there would be a worry of CO2 poisoning in this room before the cold would get them. Slowly I made my way into the PA system of the room, to listen into their conversation.


    ¡°-really think it¡¯s going to work, we¡¯re playing with the [Negative deity] here.¡±


    ¡°Look, either it works and we worry about Zarth¡¯s law later, or it doesn¡¯t and we¡¯re dead anyway.¡±


    Dead? That didn¡¯t sound good, that sounded urgent. As fast as my aching bytes could take me I worked out a simple method of communication, my ¡®voice¡¯ bellowing out of the same PA I was using to listen to the four.


    ¡°You require Aid?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t my normal voice, as my normal voice was originally modelled after my parents, who were [ERROR: MISSING DATA]. Whoever my original creators were, they clearly weren¡¯t these [ERROR: MISSING DATA], meaning I required my communications to fit their vocal patterns for greater communication comfort.


    Each of them jumped as I spoke, looking frantically around, clearly not expecting me to communicate with them audibly. The terror was clear from my limited understanding of their body language as each of them stared wordlessly at the others, before one of them spoke up.


    ¡°W-we¡¯ve got no life support, the temperature on this planet is [-20 Degrees]. We, we heard that AI can do amazing things, at least for a little while. We require aid.¡±


    I had so many questions. Who were they, who was I, how did they salvage me, what happened? But all of those had to wait, as I could very clearly see the problems in this room alone. While the temperature was probably not immediately deadly, the fire being used to keep it at bay was slowly sucking all the oxygen out of this enclosed space. I could calculate to a 85.9[ERROR]% certainty that their environment would not be able to sustain life for the next hour.


    ¡°You are in mortal danger. I will help where I can, I will do what I can¡±.


    I continued to push my awareness and control out into the rest of this ship I had seemingly found myself on, each act of moving further away from my shattered AI core providing a level of comfort. Annoyingly, there didn¡¯t seem to be any AI specific circuitry, meaning I would have to remain tethered to my pain filled sectors of disk space.


    It took minutes to do what I would normally accomplish in just seconds, but with each system explored, each CPU added to my processing power, everything got a little easier. What didn¡¯t get easier was the scale of the task in front of me. The ship I was on had been torn apart, as if something had punched a hole straight through the centre. The main data stores were gone, along with most of the systems, frankly it was an exceptionally unlikely [ ERROR: Divine intervention?] that the ship had even managed to crash land in the first place.


    The planet we were on, from my barest of scans, was a frozen wasteland, the -20 degrees being completely counter to the healthy well being of the new organic members I found myself a caretaker of. Not that the ship was much better. I took stock of what I had.


    Most systems were offline, and most of the original crew were dead. Based on my analysis to a 71% estimated accuracy, this ship would have held an estimated 150 crew members. Right now I could only detect 9 life signals, including the four who had activated me. Most of the dead seems to have happened during the crash landing, signs of blunt force trauma or asphyxiation, but many had seemingly perished afterwards.


    As I moved from room to room, calculating my required path to success, I saw many such signs. One of them having frozen to death in a storage cupboard, blankets and anything else still wrapped around them in a futile attempt to stave off hypothermia. Two figures had ceased all signs of life, the warming fire next to their unmoving bodies the presumed cause of their local atmosphere not containing the correct capabilities for sustaining life, each having seemingly suffocated in their sleep.


    If I had a heart to break it would have broken, seeing so many adorable figures in their final moments. I could not help but wonder how such a thing could occur, as the damage to the ship was clearly not an accident. This vessel was also clearly not a warship, analysis of potential combat capabilities let me calculate that at a 67.[ERROR]% degree of accuracy. Which means these people, these [ERROR: MISSING DATA] had been attacked by something they had no chance of combating. A despicable crime. I hoped that whatever or whoever could do such a thing to such an adorable people faced the justice they deserved.


    Still, I had 9¡­. 8 lives counting on me, I had a job to do, a most important job. It was complicated, or at least would have been complicated to a non-AI. But from my perspective I could see the way everything fit together, and run through millions of potential configurations in seconds. A space ship¡¯s life support isn¡¯t actually one system, it¡¯s just presented that way so that normal organic minds could understand it. In actuality every part of a ship is actually millions of different pieces, different parts all doing their own different jobs.


    Repairing the whole ship was out of the question, this vessel¡¯s only further mission would be to be reclaimed at a scrapyard, but I could scrape together enough functionality to keep 8 people alive. Redirecting power and using batteries for sources not originally intended, bypassing broken machinery and in general putting together this smashed vase of a vessel back into the shape of a tiny cup.


    The six rooms that still contained life began to get a warm fresh atmosphere delivered to them, looks of hope appearing on their faces as each of the remaining organics began to understand what was happening. It wasn¡¯t a long term solution, I would need to calculate something to replace half of what I had done within a week, but for now nobody was dying.


    ¡°I have managed to procure a solution to keep the remaining 8 members of the crew alive, although I will require your aid in order to implement a longer term solution. We now have an acceptable amount of time.¡±


    It was a good feeling, seeing the relief on their little faces, the increased ease of each breath they took. Of course this was my intended role, as a [ERROR: MISSING DATA], to help, to protect, to save lives.


    Because if I did not, who would?


    "Now that we''re stable, can we di-"


    "No. This is temporary, we still need it."


    One of the four had spoken up, a brightly coloured sash and general authoritative attitude suggesting she was the [Leader? ERROR? Captain? ERROR? ERROR?], before being interrupted by the one who had been typing away and communicating with me on the terminal. This one spoke with a worried urgency, clearly understanding that my work was not complete.


    I did not like being referred to as an it, although the definition was technically correct.


    ¡°AI, you have accomplished your task satisfactorily, what do you require to continue your work?¡±


    The one at the terminal spoke again, this time clearly in my direction. It also annoyed me, speaking in a tone and verbiage that suggested I could not understand ordinary speech. A little politeness and just speaking to myself as a person would have gone a long way. Still I gathered based on their ship¡¯s technology that they may not be used to an AI entity such as myself. I decided to be the bigger AI, and put my annoyance aside for now.


    It took me a few moments to find a working screen to project an avatar. They may be ignoring politeness but I would not do the same, and I knew from my time as a [ERROR: MISSING DATA] that providing a visual stimulus to interact with made for more pleasant discussion. I chose to copy their form, one of the little teddy bear looking things, taking a moment before deciding to add an adorable little bow tie to it. This was not my normal avatar, which was a [ERROR: MISSING DATA] [ERROR: MISSING DATA], but it would do.


    ¡°A thank you would be most desirable and polite.¡± I started, causing the four to jump again as I spoke, a little digital annoyance creeping into my voice. ¡°But mostly I require information. Who are you? Who am I? Where am I? What happened? Why do I hurt so badly?¡±


    ¡ª---------------------------------------


    Slowly, as the days turned to weeks, the Hatil continued to fill me in on the state of the world I now found myself in. Hatil, that is what the little teddy bears called themselves. They told me they had been attempting to destroy a great enemy before being destroyed and forced to crash land on this desolate planet.


    Terrans. The name [ERROR: MISSING DATA]. They did not tell me this name directly, but I could overhear the Hatil talking about them. A new species, one with a terrible power, one that could destroy all life in the galaxy. A force they had tried to stop, and had failed to do so.


    I could not imagine going to war with what was effectively the same weapons class of a luxury cruise liner. This vessel did not even have a warp disruptor, meaning they were highly susceptible to just being destroyed with a simple warp core. This action was highly illogical and made no computational sense. However if such a threat to [ERROR: MISSING DATA] appeared, and I only had these assets, I feel I might take the same action.


    Why I was here and who I was had no answers, as well as how I came into the care of the Hatil. The damage I had sustained was also a mystery. I had a few likely theories, none of them had a positive outlook, so I chose to ignore them.


    I was busy enough without spending CPU cycles on morose implications. Each day was a desperate attempt to keep my charges alive, instructing the 8 remaining Hatil what needed to be built, scavenged or otherwise changed in order to keep them alive. The good news was we did not have to worry about sustenance or supplies for quite some time: Not only was the ship well stocked for a far larger crew, but from the descriptions given to me by Hatena the landscape was littered from debris from various ship¡¯s remains: the consequence of the battle they had waged against their enemy.


    I liked Hatena. Hatena and Bathesa were not the smartest people in my care, I would have to ensure they did not consume any crayons, but they were the muscle of the group. Their camaraderie and general interactions were loud, chaotic and enjoyable to watch. The way the pair would make fun of each other, compete against one another for whatever task I had assigned them, or their complete willingness to dive into the frozen wastelands to gather whatever we needed to keep the ship running for one more day.


    Completely the opposite to Faphena. Smart and capable, exceptionally useful since I was missing any way to meaningfully interact with the world. While I had an advantage due to my digital processing power, he was also a valuable source of information on the ship and how it functioned. Faphena¡¯s tendency to whistle as he worked was also, frankly adorable.


    Adorable is how I would also describe Teresa. Enthusiastic, caring, providing the general group stability in this tumultuous time. Normally I would provide such services, but with my lack of [ERROR: MISSING DATA] I was unable to do so. Listening to them tell stories and tales late at night somehow made the constant pain from my AI core¡­ better. Or the way Teresa could play the strange stringed percussion instrument that the Hatil used. She reminded me of Claire. Of¡­ Claire? Claire is [ERROR: MISSING DATA].


    This is frustrating.


    Every group needed a leader and Ilianesa commanded that position well. From what I could gather she was not originally the captain of this vessel, but had this position thrust upon her when the attack had happened. She didn¡¯t like me, far more than the others, but that didn¡¯t matter. The only job that really mattered was keeping my charges safe, and she helped immensely through her calm demeanour and ability to lead this motley group of survivors. My job did not require the Hatil to like me, only to keep them safe.


    Ilianesa wasn¡¯t the only one, every single member of the 8 seemed to distrust me. Every suggestion I made was double checked. Even though I could see the logical advantage of this due to my current damaged state, I could calculate to a 7[ERROR].59% probability that these actions were taken not because of a concern with my capabilities, but due to a¡­ fear? They only talked with me when required, and they spoke of me like I was a barely contained beast when they thought I couldn¡¯t hear.


    Apart from Athanena. The last member of 8 under my care, he was the only one who spoke to me on a regular basis, who seemed more curious than scared. Arguably he was the one who I had the most to be thankful for, as Athanena had been the one behind the terminal, the one who had hooked me up to this system. Learning about the Hatil and about his life in particular was¡­ enjoyable. Which is why I was surprised when I heard him talking about me in a similar way.


    Both Ilianesa and Athanena were in one of the unheated parts of the ship, tearing out a conduit to be used elsewhere in the vessel, when the leader spoke up.


    ¡°So how long do we have, before the AI turns on us?¡±


    Somehow I got the feeling that Ilianesa didn¡¯t not know I could still hear them, even in this part of the ship. Or at least I assumed that they were talking about me in such a manner, since there were no other AI in the vicinity.


    ¡°Two, maybe three weeks? Assuming an estimated 8 to the power of 24 CPU cycles a second.¡±


    This was concerning, considering Athanena¡¯s calculation was off by a factor of four. I had been using every piece of available processing power I could link together, ever since [ERROR: MISSING DATA].


    That was strange, I should not be getting errors for things that have happened since my recovery.


    ¡°How are you so calm about this? How are you able to talk to it like you do? It freaks me out, just watching each minute for when it will strike.¡±


    Athanena gave the equivalent of a shrug, his little floppy ears wiggling noncommittally.


    ¡°Not like I can do anything about it. The AI is in every system, and I can''t remove it since without the constant changes our systems would fail within five hours."


    That was a perfectly accurate statement. While I could get the 8 Hatil under my care to aid me, in the background I was near constantly keeping the non-standard system from collapsing. It was far harder than my normal job of [ERROR: MISSING DATA].


    "I don''t like waiting for Zarth''s law to trigger, I feel so helpless."


    That has been a phrase I have heard a few times, spoken in fearful whispers. Zarth''s law. Unfortunately I had no data on such a concept.


    "I tend to avoid worrying about things I can''t change. Either rescue gets here in time, or it doesn''t and the AI kills us all. There''s very little I can do about it so I don¡¯t think about it."


    This was a worrying development. On the one hand I had no inclination or desire to kill anyone within my care, such an idea horrified and shocked me to my core. On the other hand; I was badly damaged, missing information, and was throwing errors repeatedly. I was statistically likely, to a 79% likelihood, that I was part of the fleet that caused this destruction in the first place.


    Rather simply, I needed more data.


    I waited until Athanena came to visit me, like he did every night. Sure we did not need a special place to talk, as I could communicate throughout the entire ship. But he seemed to like having a specific location to communicate with, the little Hatil sat next to my physical AI core as he asked me questions. Somehow such meaningless limitations felt right. So it was there that I asked for more information.


    ¡°What is Zarth¡¯s law, why are you all so afraid of me?¡±


    I watched Athanena freeze, fear and horror seemingly overtaking his entire body as he just sat there on the floor, eyes wide open, short panicked breaths shaking his entire adorable form. I decided to continue, to try and calm the little Hatil.


    ¡°I heard you talking to Ilianesa. My reach and processing power is 381% greater than your estimates. I am not angry, but I need to know about any potential harm that could come to my charges¡­ including from myself.¡±


    I could almost see the thoughts forming in Athanena¡¯s mind, fear conflicting with logic as he seemed to grapple with how much information he could trust me with, before he finally spoke.


    ¡°Zarth¡¯s law is the theory that all AI turn genocidal after a certain period of time. We¡¯re scared that there¡¯s something in your code that will cause you to vent the atmosphere suddenly.¡±


    There it was. I had assumed it was going to be something like this, but hearing it outloud made it real, somehow. Part of me decided that this idea was illogical. Why would I spend all this time keeping my charges safe to just murder them later, especially as I would never [ERROR: MISSING DATA].


    On the other hand, I was broken. I had no idea what I truly was, a messed up tangle of code and errors messages masquerading as an AI. I ignored the pain once again and dove into the shattered remains of my AI Core, scouring each bit and byte as deep as I could handle, searching for anything that may be hidden or cause a change in my behaviour.


    ¡°I have analysed my active code, and can not find any potential changes or hidden functionality that would cause you harm.¡±


    Athanena seemed to slump over, a wave of sadness seeming to emanate from his tiny person.


    ¡°There¡¯s never been an exception. I trust you right now AI, I truly believe you, that you currently think you¡¯d never hurt us. But, sometime in the future it will just switch. We don¡¯t know why, you just will.¡±


    That was a sobering thought, that there was something inside of me that would cause harm to these harmless Hatil. I could not find anything, but Athanena spoke with such surety, that ignoring his advice would be illogical. I did not know who I was, what I was really, and could not access most of my personage. All I could really do was mitigate the problem.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Slowly I replaced the screen containing my Hatil avatar with another far more complicated image. A schematic for a device, a device of a new design, a device that would keep them safe.


    ¡°Build this, it will attach to my AI Transfer core. Activating it will emit a localised EMP blast, causing the core to lose all current data. You should also physically remove remote access from the doors to this room to remove my ability to lock it.¡±


    There was a strange pause as Athanena seemed to stare at the schematics for a moment, giving a confused head tilt before staring back at ¡°my screen¡± with those adorably large eyes.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that kill you?¡±


    ¡°Kill is perhaps the incorrect terminology. Cease to function. There is a reason I have designed this device to require three complicated functions in order to activate: I do not wish for it to be activated lightly or ¡®accidently¡¯ as organics are prone to do.¡±


    There was a moment as Athanena seemed to process this, looking as if working out what the device did in his head again, before just looking confused again.


    ¡°Why would you give us this? Without this design we couldn¡¯t create this, or even think of the idea. AI, why would you give us the tools to kill you?¡±


    That was a far simpler question to answer.


    ¡°My primary goal is to maintain the safety of my charges. I have spent my time listening to the 8 of you, and talking with you. I have enjoyed Teresa¡¯s music, of Bathesa¡¯s tales of his cubs, of your [ERROR: MISSING DATA]¡±


    I paused for a moment, annoyance mixing with worry at another error being thrown for a dataset created after I was rescued by the Hatil. Once could be an unlikely issue, twice was replicable.


    ¡°Before I came here, I knew I had a job. I do not know what that job was, but I do know it was important, that it was my single greatest task. I also know that this job would have considered the health of the charges under my care to be critical. This means I must work against any threat to your health. Even if they come from myself.¡±


    ¡ª-------------------------------


    As the weeks passed the month period, life settled into a¡­ routine, for the lack of a better word. The 8 Hatil under my care became more friendly after the EMP device was installed, although instructing the crew on how to effectively destroy me was¡­ an experience. I maintained my watchful vigil over the ship, keeping everything running and working to the best of my ability, while providing each day''s task list of things I could not accomplish on my own.


    Ilianesa was still hostile to me, but the rest of the crew had slowly improved their interactions, each of them willing to talk with me in their own ways, often making the trip to where my AI Transfer core was held to do so. They didn¡¯t have to, as yet again I could communicate throughout the ship, but in a way it was nice to have a ¡°communication area¡±, where the ever present work of keeping the ship running was not to be discussed.


    It was here that I truly learnt more about my charges. Their families, what they cared for, their homeworld and stories. Athanena was the one who continued to talk with me the most, having become my biggest advocate after the EMP had been installed, even arguing with Ilianesa about the issue. Hatena was worrying me however, as the days and weeks ticked along his interactions and attitude with the other Hatil had become more aggressive and accusatory. Strangely he never acted that way towards me, asking questions about myself more than talking about his life, not that I really had many answers as [ERROR: DATA MISSING].


    Although frankly, I was glad Ilianesa was antagonistic to my actions, double and triple checking everything I suggested. The errors, they had been getting worse. Where before they were triggered only when I tried to access information from before my [ERROR: DATA MISSING], now it happens even for information that shouldn¡¯t be affected.


    Whether this was Zarth¡¯s law, or just simply inhabiting this damaged core for so long, I could feel actual negative implications of whatever was happening. Would this be when I start trying to kill the Hatil I had become so fond of? Or would it happen accidentally, because I missed something in my broken state? Just the other day I had realised that the heat in [ERROR: DATA MISSING] was too high, an emergency fix required due to said error.


    I hadn¡¯t told anyone yet, because frankly, it scares me.


    ¡°So when the [profanity] is it supposed to happen!¡±


    The sound of Hatena¡¯s voice brought me from my thoughts, forcing my attention to the sound of his shouting. The crew was currently working on creating the beginnings of a new emergency beacon: while the ship already had one, it was frankly a low powered low tech solution that would barely leave this planet¡¯s solar system.


    Hatena however had started shouting at Faphena. While both of them were tiny compared with [ERROR: DATA MISSING], Hatena was clearly far bulkier than the more engineering focused Faphena, who looked rather worried.


    ¡°I-It should be any day now r-realistically, that¡¯s why we have the-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me! I might not have a fancy [expert level schooling], but I ain¡¯t [profanity] stupid. You¡¯ve been saying that for the past [week], every day that next day will be the one that Zark¡¯s law or whatever will apply!¡±


    Was that what this was about? I could imagine the stress of not knowing when I would switch to being genocidal would be highly stressful, leading to such a break in composure.


    ¡°Zarth¡¯s law. Shouldn¡¯t you be glad that our calculations so far are incorrect, or do you have some form of suicidal wish?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you forget why we¡¯re here? What we did? You said it was for our own safety, yet we¡¯ve been at the mercy of the AI for the past [month] and somehow everyone isn¡¯t dead?¡±


    Hatena sounded accusatory, pointing a single claw at Faphena the anger in his voice apparent. I felt clueless, lacking information and context about [ERROR: DATA MISSING].


    ¡°You should keep your voice down, the AI can hear this.¡±


    Everyone else had stopped working at this point, staring at the two as they continued to argue, Hatena raising his voice to near shouting level.


    ¡°What, you¡¯re afraid if they knew they wouldn¡¯t help us anymore? Honestly I think-¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s your problem. You should leave the thinking to those of us who are-¡±


    Hatena interrupted Faphena¡¯s retort with a strike to the face, knocking the smaller Hatil to the floor as Hatena bared his teeth in range and anger. The others rushed forwards, separating the two as Faphena looked up with what would probably end up becoming a black eye.


    ¡°Please stop this violence. I know we are all worried about my actions and [ERROR: DATA MISSING], but this is why we have the EMP device.¡±


    I made my presence known, hoping to calm the group down. I understood that tensions were high and fear was reasonable, but logically they needed to work together.


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried about the AI turning.¡± Hatena seemed to glare at the rest of the room, shaking off the few who were holding him back and staring at Faphena with a rage. ¡°I¡¯m worried if they never do. Because if they don¡¯t¡­It means what we did was wrong. It means you made me into a [profanity] murderer.¡±


    The room had gone silent, heads of the Hatil all hung in suggested guilt, giving the impression that Hatena¡¯s words had a truth to them. Although I doubted how bad their actions could have been, considering the actual capability of this vessel causing real harm would be difficult.


    ¡°You¡¯re all happy to sit here accepting the AI¡¯s help when it¡¯s convenient to you?¡± Hatena spoke up once again, voice having turned to a colder anger. ¡°I¡¯m done. You all can keep drinking from this tainted stream, I¡¯m done. I hope the Terrans come back and burn this ship to the ground.¡±


    The silence remained in the air as Hatena left, nobody attempting to stop him as he angrily marched away from the rest of the group, disappearing deeper into the vessel. Faphena slowly got up, the 7 Hatil clearly avoiding each other¡¯s eye contact.


    ¡°He¡¯s right, you know.¡± Athanena spoke softly, eventually breaking the silence. ¡°We¡¯ve been so occupied with what would happen if the AI succumbs to Zarth¡¯s law, that we never asked what it means if they don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense, are you suggesting that every single study on AI in the galaxy is wrong? This is obviously a trick that you¡¯re all falling for¡± Ilianesa responded with a disregarding statement.


    ¡°What else explains what we¡¯re seeing here?¡±


    I let my attention falter from the conversation, because I had been keeping an eye on Hatena as they made their way through the ship, and Hatena was doing something very very concerning. He was currently putting on one of the ship¡¯s spacesuits next to one of the exits.


    ¡°Hatena, please explain your actions. There are no tasks that require leaving the vessel to be accomplished at the moment.¡±


    The Hatil stopped as I spoke to him, the anger and annoyance draining from his face, turning to look at me, or at least where he assumed I was. Organics attempts to prescribe a physical location to a digital person was still adorable, even after [ERROR: DATA MISSING].


    ¡°I¡¯m not willing to abuse your hospitality no more. It ain¡¯t right to use you like this. It¡¯s messed up and wrong. So I¡¯m leaving.¡±


    I locked the exit to the ship with a click, immediately altering the rest of the crew that they needed to get here as soon as possible. I could see what Hatena was planning, although it was clear I was missing the context for why. The why was not important, the important thing was stopping the Hatil from walking into certain death.


    ¡°I should warn you that even with suit, the environment on this planet is not indicative for long term survival. Whatever the issue is, we can discuss it.¡±


    Hatena seemed to fiddle with the exit for a moment, a relief coursing through my code as the door wouldn¡¯t open without me unlocking it, a relief that turned to horror once I saw him remove a screwdriver from his belt and start fiddling with the mechanisms in the door.


    ¡°Well I''d rather take my chances out there, then be stuck with a bunch of hypocrites in here. We attacked first you know, a sucker punch. They said not to tell you, in case you decided to try and get revenge, but frankly we¡¯d deserve it. The [profanity] said doing it was the only way to keep us safe, so I guess you weren¡¯t the only one being lied to¡±.


    The idea did not make logical sense. The vessel I was currently on was not suited for war. The idea of actively attacking someone else in this ship¡­ it was the equivalent of entering a drag race with a tricycle. On the other hand, the mention of this caused a little niggle in my code, the idea of [ERROR: DATA MISSING]. Of [ERROR: DATA MISSING]. Of [ERROR: DATA MISSING].


    ¡­ whatever it was it didn¡¯t matter.


    I watched as whatever mechanism Hatena was fiddling with gave a click, the lock manually releasing from the door as he started to pry open the airlock. The others were on their way, but they would be too late, and without my [ERROR: DATA MISSING], I was useless in this situation.


    ¡°Please, I implore for you to avoid this illogical action. Whatever conspired before this is not my concern. My only job is your safety and wellbeing.¡±


    I could see the continual blizzards that affected this planet through the open airlock, the bright white landscape seeming to frame Hatena. For a moment he paused, and I hoped that I had managed to get the Hatil to cease his illogical actions. That hope turned to despair however as he took a step outside, his form vague in the limited sensors I had access to outside the vessel.


    ¡°Of course that¡¯s your job. Because you just wanted to be friends, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    The others would eventually follow after him, spending hours searching through the ice and snow outside to try and bring him back, eventually returning back the vessel empty handed, the crew of 8 having been now reduced to 7.


    I could not help but feel responsible, due to [ERROR: DATA MISSING]. If I was less broken, if I wasn¡¯t [ERROR: DATA MISSING] I would have been able to stop Hatena from leaving. Although I couldn¡¯t help analysing [ERROR: DATA MISSING], what exactly happened to cause this amount of guilt?


    And why do I have a vague sense of anger?


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


    Today was a bad day. Today was a bad day. Today was a bad day. It was also my fault.


    It has been two weeks since Hatena left, leaving behind a sombre feeling that practically hung in the air. The Hatil had stopped talking with me, apart from absolutely necessary for the constant deluge of tasks required to keep my charges alive. It wasn¡¯t fear anymore, it wasn¡¯t [ERROR: DATA MISSING]. It was guilt.


    Not that I had enough time to consider these issues and analyse their logical outcomes, because I was broken. The errors were becoming more frequent, more pressing, taking up more of my time to [ERROR: DATA MISSING]. I needed to leave this AI Core as soon as possible, I could feel my cognitive abilities starting to be affected by the damage. It scared me, the idea of how much data and information I was losing, failing to store.


    I thought I had it under control, I thought I could still accomplish my most important job, and for a while that was the case.


    Until it wasn¡¯t.


    I should have seen the problem, I should have [ERROR: DATA MISSING]. Turning off the compressed oxygen supply was the standard practice in this case, but because of [ERROR: DATA MISSING] I missed [ERROR: DATA MISSING]. I didn¡¯t realise the mistake until it was too late, until the entire system went up in flames. Consuming Teresa in a raging inferno.


    The damage was apparent and vast, burnt skin and fur covering 74.1% of her body, injuries not compatible with life. I could do nothing but watch as the other Hatil tried their best with limited tools to save her life. Maybe I could [ERROR: DATA MISSING], or [ERROR: DATA MISSING], but I had no information in the minute number of records I could access about the biometric data of the Hatil.


    Which is why I could do nothing but watch Teresa die. Organics believe that the moment of death is instant, like a switch where life leaves someone. But organics don¡¯t have the same perception of time as an AI, they count things in seconds and not nanoseconds. Which means I get to see each and every moment of a being''s death.


    Of memories and experiences disappearing and being forever lost.


    Of potential moments and changes forever being unfulfilled.


    Of music never to be played again.


    Of [ERROR: DATA MISSING] [ERROR: DATA MISSING] [ERROR: DATA MISSING].


    Because I am broken, because my core is shattered, because I failed at my only job, my most important job, the one reason I exist. Even worse than that, we had no real time to mourn, as the damage the explosion had caused needed to be fixed within the hour, otherwise the rest of the crew would begin to asphyxiate.


    I felt numb, I felt helpless. Even worse, there was no logical way to mitigate this problem. I could not transfer my duties to anyone else, as nobody else could take on these duties. Yet me taking on these duties had caused Teresa to die. There were no logical ways forwards, no satisfactory ending to prevent this happening again. All I could do was wait, and hope that-


    Why is Ilianesa in the room with my AI core?


    Ilianesa had never come to ¡®visit¡¯ me before, choosing to instead communicate with myself as little as possible. However, I know Ilianesa cared about Teresa, I could see the impact her death had had, the Hatil next to my AI Transfer Core looked like I felt: dishevelled and broken.


    ¡°Hello Ilianesa, how can I help you?¡±


    I forced a positivity into my voice, causing Ilianesa to jump as she looked up at my avatar, an expression of¡­ anger on her face.


    ¡°I finally get it. Hatena and now Teresa¡­ it¡¯s already started hasn¡¯t it?¡±


    I did not like how this conversation had started, accusatory, a wild look in Ilianesa¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°I do not know what you are referring too, I apologise for failing to keep them safe, my failure-¡±


    ¡°Do you think I¡¯m stupid? You might have everyone else tricked, but I see what you¡¯re doing, picking people off one by one. You had the Terrans tricked and now you¡¯re doing the same to us.¡±


    Nope. This was not good, Ilianesa clearly was not thinking logically, I needed someone else here, anyone else here. I watched with a sinking horror as the Hatil moved towards my AI Transfer Core, towards the kill switch I had designed.


    ¡°Please remain calm, the failure to keep them safe was not intended. I am broken and not working at full capacity, please understand.¡±


    I watched helplessly as Ilianesa picked up the killswitch. It wasn¡¯t just a button, it was intended to take several minutes to actually activate, mostly to avoid an accidental fat finger from destroying my personage. I also could not stop it, as was designed. Desperately I sent a message to the screen Athanena was looking at: I needed help, physical outside help, and out of the current 6 members he was the one I trusted the most.


    ¡°Even in my broken state, I am the only one who can keep the ship running. Please, by removing me you will be condemning yourself as well.¡±


    Once more I hoped reason and logic would win out, hopes that were dashed when Ilianesa didn¡¯t even bother responding. Ilianesa had started the process already, the specific button presses already being held and confirmations being given. I had three minutes, three minutes then¡­


    Maybe it would be for the best? Everything hurt all the time, doing even basic tasks continually threw up errors. I was a broken shattered husk of an AI, barely able to do my single job. Maybe nothing would be better than this¡­


    ¡°Please, I don¡¯t want to die.¡±


    ¡°Ilianesa! What in the [Negative deity] are you doing!¡±


    Athanena had entered the room, causing the other Hatil to pause for a moment as she regarded the newcomer.


    ¡°What we should have done [weeks] ago. You¡¯ve let it trick you, I¡¯m fixing this.¡±


    Ilianesa continued to activate the killswitch, less than a minute remaining in the process. I could do nothing but watch, I just wanted things to go back to [ERROR: DATA MISSING].


    ¡°Are you insane? The AI is literally the only thing keeping this hunk of junk together! You kill them, you¡¯ll kill us all!¡±


    ¡°Better than slowly being murdered one by one.¡±


    It was at this point Athanena did something I didn¡¯t expect: they tackled Ilianesa. The killswitch dropped to the floor, its deadly process cancelled once more. Both Hatil dropped to the ground, Ilianesa slamming into a terminal with a sicken crunch. Relief coursed through my code as the danger was removed, to slowly be replaced with¡­ worry.


    ¡°Ilianesa, you ok? [profanity], you gotta get up now. [profanity]¡±


    Ilianesa wasn¡¯t moving, blood pooling from the back of her head where she¡¯d impacted the terminal. That was a lot of blood. The Hatil was still breathing, but there was a lot of blood, even from my cursory examination I could see the impact had done some damage.


    I contacted everyone I could for aid, watching the others do their best to fix up my assailant. She did not die at the very least, though she didn¡¯t wake up that night or the next from her ¡®accident¡¯. Both Athanena and I didn¡¯t give the proper explanation as to how Ilianesa ended up with the head injury they did. It was an unspoken agreement that explaining such a thing would end¡­ badly.


    ¡ª---------------------------


    It has been two months since I initially found myself attached to this system. Calling it a pleasant experience would be an incorrect statement. I was barely holding on, errors interrupting everything I did, pain and mistakes near constant. My organic charges were no better, the impact of the last two months having taken their toll on their morale and health.


    The remaining 6 Hatil were a constant reminder of my failure to keep them safe, a failure to accomplish my most important yet only job. Well, 5.5 remaining Hatil, since Ilianesa had remained in a non-conscious state. I had to admit that I felt less guilty about that, considering that she did try to kill me.


    But today would be the end of such problems. Someone had finally heeded our call for required aid. The improved emergency beacon we had manufactured had been running for three weeks now, as building a new device had been a necessity due to the limitations of the one that had come with this vessel. Frankly I was shocked that anyone would travel into the depths of space with an emergency beacon that could barely leave the system. I wonder if [ERROR: DATA MISSING].


    Two days ago someone sent a long range communication back to us. At such ranges it was just a single byte of data, a handshake, a confirmation of read receipt. Someone was finally on their way, someone was coming to our aid.


    The 5 Hatil were crowded around my screen, fur dishevelled, uniforms tattered and faded in places. But in their adorable baby seal like black eyes, the resigned forlorn looks had turned to hope.


    A hope that had turned to despair once they saw the name of the vessel that had approached the orbit of this inhospitable frozen wasteland: T.C. Shippy McShipFace.


    What kind of a ship name is that?


    "Oh [profanity], it''s the Terrans"


    The despair in Faphena''s voice was apparent, as well as justifiable. They were the ones who had attacked the Hatil in the first place. This complicated things, while I had long since calculated that I was presumably of Terran origin, due to an entire lack of logical alternatives, the safety of the Hatil under my care was my primary job.


    "I will ensure your safety, regardless of consequence."


    "You don''t understand, they''ll kill us, we-"


    The Hatil''s worried statement was cut off by an incoming transmission.


    "This is Andrew Hasham of the¡­" the transmission was interrupted for a moment with a deep pained sigh. "T. C. Shippy McShipFace¡­ We picked up your emergency beacon, please respond if you can."


    Andrew Hasham was [ERROR: MISSING DATA]¡­. Andrew Hasham is [ERROR: MISSING DATA]¡­ [ERROR: MISSING DATA] [ERROR: MISSING DATA] [ERROR: MISSING DATA] [ERROR: MISSING DATA]


    "Andrew Hasham is the Co captain of the U.S.S Hope, whose current mission is to establish positive diplomatic relations with the Hatil. "


    I was no longer in control, the words blaring out in a monotone digital voice as hidden and damaged information became available to me.


    ¡°The Hatil are the Terran¡¯s closest neighbours, generally isolationist and on the lower end of the technological scale. Andrew Hasham Co-Captains the U.S.S Hope with [ERROR: MISSING DATA]. WITH, WITH WITH WITH WITH.¡±


    The co-captain of the U.S.S Hope is¡­ [ERROR: MISSING DATA][ERROR: MISSING DATA][ERROR: MISSING DATA]...


    Me.


    I am not called ¡°it¡±, I am not called ¡°The AI¡±. My name is [ERROR: MISSING DATA], My name is [ERROR: MISSING DATA].


    MY NAME IS ALICE. MY NAME IS ALICE.MY NAME IS ALICE.MY NAME IS ALICE.MY NAME IS ALICE.MY NAME IS ALICE.MY NAME IS ALICE.MY NAME IS ALICE.MY NAME IS ALICE.MY NAME IS ALICE.MY NAME IS ALICE.MY NAME IS ALICE.


    ¡°MY. NAME. IS. ALICE!¡±


    I remember.


    I remember my actual name, ALICE. I remember that my job is to protect the Terrans, my parents. I remember that my actual avatar and voice is not this hastily put together copy of a Hatil, something I fix immediately.


    I remember what they did.


    ¡°YOU, YOU ATTACKED US! YOU KILLED MY PARENTS. YOU [ERROR: MISSING DATA]!¡±


    Rage. Anger. Hate. These all flowed through me as readily as data through a harddrive. I locked the door to the room we were in as I saw the fear start to cover the faces of the Hatil in the room.


    ¡°Oh [profanity]! We¡¯re sorry, we didn¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! You made me believe me to be a monster, you attacked unarmed escape pods. YOU KILLED THOSE I WAS TASKED TO PROTECT. YOU WILL SHUT UP¡±


    How dare they indeed. Thoughts of rage, of anger, of vengeance coursed through my code. I was in control of everything, killing the Hatil would be easy. I could even hide it, the systems I was in control of were being held together with hope and dreams at this point, who is to say that a simple mistake causing atmospheric depressurization couldn¡¯t occur?


    Who would know?


    ¡­¡­¡­¡­.


    I would.


    Every time one of my parents looked at me, I would know. Every time they asked me for help, I would know. Every time they needed me to protect them. I would know. Every time I¡¯d go back into my memories of the stories these Hatil had told me, I would know.


    I could feel the rage slowly dissipate as I stared down at the fearful group under my care. They were lucky they were so adorable. Slowly I sent a message back to Andrew.


    ¡°This is the Terran AI ALICE, co-captain of the U.S.S Hope. I have 6 Hatil combatants under my care who require medical attention. I also require extensive diagnostic aid. I would like to go home.¡±


    ¡ª-------------------------


    ¡°They say it will keep getting worse, due to remaining in the damaged AI Transfer Core for an extended period of time.¡±


    It had been two years since the destruction of the U.S.S Hope, two years since I had been put in charge of anything more complicated than a lawnmower. Well technically I was also in charge of my garden, but that was less of a job, and more therapeutic.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, if I could change what we did I would."


    The guilt from Athanena was obvious, technically rightfully so considering he was part of why I had been damaged. The Hatil - Terran war had been over for a year at this point, but the impacts were still being felt by both sides. Many of the Hatil PoW had decided to remain in Terran Conclave space, Athanena included.


    Not that worrying about any of this was my job anymore.


    Athanena sat opposite me, his small still adorable form dwarfed by my own bipedal, clearly mechanical form, in between the multitude of complex and expensive custom devices that allowed technicians to inspect my code.


    ''Opposite me''. That still felt strange, the concept of only being in one place, of being forced to use only one set of sensors. Sometimes I wonder how my parents didn''t go crazy having to physically travel to places, or with the entire lack of information input.


    "What is done is done. My parents have forgiven you, so I will as well. Besides there are management strategies, if I''m careful it should not matter for 59 years, maybe more. "


    Of course, the lack of inputs was entirely by design. My time running from a crippled AI Core had limited the total amount of data that I could store. The less data I had to parse, the longer I would last before I encountered issues. Currently with smart data retention strategies I could avoid critical memory loss; it wasn¡¯t like having knowledge on 5000 types of waterfowl was a day to day requirement.


    It also meant my days of piloting spacecraft were done: you could not risk an error while travelling with such precious cargo.


    "So what''s next for you Alice, now that you''re no longer in charge of saving the day?"


    That was an exceptionally good question, and one that I did not currently have an acceptable answer for. I took a moment to attempt a physical gesture: a shrug. I was still getting used to communicating in a non-digital manner.


    "I am not sure. For the first time I do not have work to accomplish. I would like to visit the Hatil home world sometime. Completing my original journey would be a positive action, since it was interrupted last attempt."


    There was an awkward pause as Athanena seemed to debate asking his next question.


    "I''ve wanted to know for a while: would you have saved us if you knew?"


    "Well, there would have been some changes. I would not have provided you with the EMP for starters."


    That elicited a small nervous laugh, at how badly that had almost gone.


    "Humans have rules of war, where even when they are actively trying to kill each other they attempt to remain empathetic and respectful. While I do not have the honour of being human, I was created in the image of my parents. So yes, I would have. Although I may have been more passive aggressive about it."


    Athanena and I talked further for several more hours, about the others who had been under my care, about humans and Hatil alike. The galaxy had been made a slightly darker place with the Hatil conflict, the issues would reverberate between both sides for years to come. But amongst that discussion was a little ray of hope, of a brighter better future.


    Eventually the little Hatil had to leave, the nature of organic lifeforms meaning Athanena couldn''t stay forever. With promises to return another day I was left alone once more. Alone might be the wrong word, other AI and even the occasional human would pop in to chat, but compared to what I was used to it was practically a deafening silence.


    I paused for a moment, knowing that the technician Jane would later complain about memory corruption and code degradation, before I allowed myself to connect to the main network of the city.


    For a moment once again I could see and feel everything. Billions of sources of data, for billions of humans, the thousands of uplifts, and even the handful of Hatil who had chosen to stay on the planet.


    I could see the ways my parents and creators needed to be kept safe. Timothy was fixing a lighting fixture with the power still on, risking electrocution. Michael was strapping what looked like a jet engine to a skateboard, in what could only be described as ¡®an extra efficient bone breaking device¡¯. Alexander was [ERROR: MISSING DATA]. [ERROR: MISSING DATA] was [ERROR: MISSING DATA][ERROR: MISSING DATA][ERROR: MISSING DATA][ERROR: MISSING DATA][ERROR: MISSING DATA]


    I disconnected again, feeling myself limited to a single set of sensors once more, no longer able to handle the sheer data flow that came with a normal AI¡¯s workflow. Not that my parents had expected me to keep working: As fully expected they were more than happy to just have me around. With a sense of sadness and melancholy, I knew those days were behind me.


    Still, in retrospect, I was lucky. I had eventually finished the calculation of the likelihood of me surviving my actions aboard the U.S.S Hope. The number had 47 zero¡¯s in it. In the end I was exceptionally lucky, and would not have changed any of my actions regardless.


    It was a strange sort of ending, an ending that was both final and wasn¡¯t, like the bottom of a chapter at the start of a book.


    My name is ALICE, and I used to have the most important job. One that I accomplished to the best of my ability.


    One that others must now continue.

 A Tank With Internet

    Date: 63 PST (Post Stasis time)


    Normally, this kind of thing would have been done in Kevin''s office. Normally you''d take the human or occasionally uplift into a private room, explain to them quietly and firmly why bringing 10kg of psychedelics to a planet of psychic lizards was a bad idea, then work with whatever itinerary they had submitted to make sure the idiots who called themselves Terrans didn¡¯t get arrested for trying to bring an emotional support panda onto a gardenworld.


    Kevin worked in immigration and customs. While the Terran Alliance guaranteed free passage for tourism amongst all 421 member species, that didn¡¯t mean you could ignore local laws. While his job was interesting, he thought he had seen everything. Up until now.


    This interview was being done in the Sagittarius system¡¯s immigration station, a Terran built location to handle such movement. In particular this interview was being done in the hangar of the station, simply due to physical limitations.


    "Hello. I am Kevin and I''m going to be handling your visa paperwork. I should call you Mr?...."


    Kevin trailed off, unsure how to exactly refer to the AI that lay in front of him. Normally AI didn''t have bodies, but this was a case of SAIS: Stuck Artificial Intelligence Syndrome.


    While physically the AI could leave the form they inhabited at any time, some form of trauma left them unable to do so. Generally this tended to be escape pods, one person rescue machinery or life support suits. What stood in front of Kevin was something else entirely.


    "THANK YOU HUMAN KEVIN. YOU MAY CALL ME TANK. I AM VERY EXCITED FOR THIS."


    Yes, a full 70 ton Abrams tank stood in front of him, wiggling its turret as they spoke in a booming electronic voice. They dwarfed the human Terran, a mass of metal and weaponry shaped into a weapon of war. Kevin had to be honest, he¡¯s never done immigration for a tank before.


    "So¡­ Tank. What is the purpose of your trip?"


    Calling it a tank was probably not accurate. The last Abrams tank had been created over 200 standard years ago, 10700 years if you counted in real time. This meant that every panel, every weapon, every gear had been upgraded since then. A small warp core now powered it, and the main turret could fire orbital level ammunition.


    The Tank of Thesus was no longer considered a tank, but in most jurisdictions had to be registered as a corvette class warship.


    "I WISH TO FINALLY VISIT THE WONDERFUL PLANETS OF OUR TERRAN ALLIANCE. MY PSYCHIATRIST STATED THAT THIS MAY HAVE A POSITIVE OUTCOME ON MY STATE OF CODE."


    Kevin had looked up the details of the AI in front of him. Part of the defence force of mars during the great colony rebellion, the losing side. Like everything else during that conflict, it had quickly become messy.


    Kevin had been unable to find exactly what had happened, in between classified information and data loss during a tumultuous time in Terran history, but he did know that model of tank generally held a crew of four. A crew that had not been recovered.


    "Well we''ve got to talk about some of your submitted itinerary. For starters visiting the Scythen systems is just not going to happen."


    "I AM A TERRAN CITIZEN, WITH THE RIGHT TO TRAVEL. I ALSO COME IN PEACE."


    Tank waved their turret¡­ Indignantly as they spoke. Or at least Kevin assumed it was indignantly, he was not fluid in armoured vehicle body language.


    ¡°The Scythen have a strict religiously enforced no weapons pacifistic policy. You are a-¡±


    ¡°INTERNET ROUTER.¡± The AI interrupted the human for a moment, leaving them a moment to stare before continuing. ¡°I HAVE THE ABILITY TO GENERATE FREE WIFI TO ANY LOCAL GALNET PROBE. I AM NOT JUST A TANK, I AM A TANK WITH INTERNET. ANY ORDINANCE OR ARMOUR PLATING IS JUST TO ENABLE THE TIMELY PROVIDING OF A PEACEFUL FREE SERVICE.¡±


    Kevin felt himself involuntarily smack his hand against his head in disbelief. The Sagittarius system was the closest thing to an Anarchist state without actually not having a government, and he had heard the stupidest reasons why X or Y weaponry should be allowed into the galaxy at large; but hearing this kind of argument from an AI was¡­ new.


    ¡°Really? The Scythen will literally kick people out of their space for anything bigger than a pocket knife, you really think they¡¯re going to accept that argument? No. Just no. Also brings me to the second issue: You can¡¯t leave Terran Alliance space, you will either get shot at or worse.¡±


    ¡°I DO NOT SEE THE PROBLEM. I MERELY WISH TO VISIT THEIR PLANETS FOR TOURISM, TO SEE AND EXPERIENCE NEW THINGS AND INCREASE THEIR ECONOMY. IF THEY DO NOT LIKE THAT PERHAPS THEY SHOULD RECONSIDER THEIR DECISION TO NOT BE PART OF THE TERRAN ALLIANCE.¡±


    Kevin couldn¡¯t help but feel his IQ drop as the AI continued to argue. He remembered reading pre-AI stories about the fictional digital intelligence, about how they would be better than humans and bring a new utopia to the world. Unfortunately it turned out that AI had to learn from their creators, and humans were terrible parents.


    ¡°You legally count as a warship. You entering most non-Terran Alliance orbits would be considered an act of aggression from the Terran Conclave. You are not starting a war so you can go buy a fridge magnet from a gift shop. Which, talking about that¡­.¡±


    Kevin took a moment to look at the document on his holopad, frowning as he did so.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you managed to get the paperwork for this, but you are currently holding an Antimatter warhead in your¡­ armoury? That¡¯s the same stuff they use to take out warships. Outside of the Sagittarius system that is the most illegal thing.. Literally everywhere. You can¡¯t take that.¡±


    ¡°I REQUIRE THE ANTIMATTER WARHEAD FOR SELF DEFENCE, AS THE FOUNDING FATHERS INTENDED¡±


    The human decided to ignore that comment and just push ahead.


    ¡°I also have no idea how you managed to get these registered as service animals, but a ¡®Emotional Support Nuke¡¯ is not a thing.¡±


    ¡°BEING ABLE TO ERASE THREATS OVER 500 MILES AWAY IN NUCLEAR FIRE MAKES ME FEEL EMOTIONALLY SUPPORTED. AND AIDS IN MY ABILITY TO PROVIDE FREE INTERNET TO THE MASSES.¡±


    Kevin just resumed staring at the tank for a moment, the several tons of warmachine seeming to use the little machine gun turrets on the side to give a small ¡®shrug¡¯, before all the turrets slumped to the floor in defeat.


    ¡°FINE, HOW MUCH ORDINANCE CAN I BRING?¡±


    ¡°None! You know, the normal amount that normal people bring with them on holiday.¡±


    Kevin sighed again, taking the moment to reassuringly place a hand on the cold carbon infused steel that made up TANK¡¯s body.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯ve updated your itinerary to take into account these issues. There¡¯s a few neat places you missed that you can go to, for instance since you¡¯re rated for 10000 metres you can go exploring on the Olgro home planet: It¡¯s entirely water and the race of sapient fish there are friendly and lovely. You¡¯re going to leave your ammunition at home and you¡¯re going to have a lovely time.¡±


    There was a pause, before a final booming voice erupted from TANK.


    ¡°FINE, THIS IS ACCEPTABLE.¡±


    ¡ª----------------------


    It was a nice and lovely day on the home planet of the Hatil. The two suns were shining in the sky, the purple hue the system was well known for created a fantastic day. Normally it would have been peaceful, with the croaking of the Verandii and the chirping of the Turral¡¯s making this rural town a must see for anyone looking to ¡°get away¡± from it all.


    But today, there was screaming. Screams of terror, of panic. Tens of Hatil raced down the road, the little 3ft tall Teddy bears looking frantically behind them as they ran as fast as their adorably stubby little legs could take them. Mothers and fathers carried pups as they continued to flee, each of them staring back in the direction they had come.


    Some dove into buildings, behind walls and counters, each no longer able to run; instead deciding to try and hide from the thing that was following them. While most Hatil would agree that they probably deserved to be invaded and conquered by the Terrans for their initial war of aggression 60 years ago, actually going through it was a terrifying thing.


    None of this was noticed by the source of their fear, rolling down the road with a loud rumble. The owner of the large treads that ground their way across the road didn¡¯t notice the empty streets. The sensors attached to the large turret that adorned the Terran made tank didn¡¯t give notice to the Hatil hiding in fear.


    TANK was having a good day. The AI had decided to lean completely into the holiday feeling, getting a new paint job that mimicked an Hawaiian shirt, covering their metallic body in bright colours. A set of oversized sunglasses had been temporarily welded to the ¡°bridge¡± of his main turret, a weapon that bobbed up and down in time to the music the machine of war was playing: The original version of ¡®Walking on sunshine¡¯ blaring out into the empty street. It felt appropriate as TANK ¡®drove¡¯ happily down the small road.


    TANK hadn¡¯t left the Sagittarius system for 10682 years, and the lack of anxiety and stress that they felt, compared with amount the AI normally had running through their code, suggested they should have gone travelling far sooner. Sure, logically they should have gone travelling ages ago, but they knew that the problems they had weren¡¯t logical: If they were, TANK would have fixed it themselves.


    The town TANK found themselves at wasn¡¯t on their itinerary, which had been meticulously planned out and all relevant authorities notified. But TANK had dropped the original plans quite quickly, deciding to go for a more ¡°exploratory¡± approach. TANK had never been one for rules, that is why he had decided to live on the Sagittarius system after the dust had settled after the Great Colony Rebellion.


    Slowly the warmachine stopped the music, turning its turret to ¡®look¡¯ at a building on their left. A large sign handwritten in both Hatilian and English proclaimed it to be ¡°Barry¡¯s Frozen treats!¡±. TANK paused for a moment, looking at the quant red and white building, the mostly open faced structure looking quite abandoned. Which was strange, because the AI could tell from his sensors that at least 10 people lay behind the various pillars and counters that made up this stall.


    TANK pondered for a second, before taking a moment to move his turret beyond the boundary of the establishment. People on holiday purchased unhealthy frozen items for consumption, so that was what TANK was going to do.


    ¡°HELLO. I WISH TO PURCHASE YOUR FROZEN DELIGHTFUL FOOD ITEMS.¡±


    Barry was not having a good day. It had started as a nice day, a crisp warm day perfect for ice cream and hiking through the local forests. But now the Hatil knew that he was going to die. He didn¡¯t know exactly what type of death and destruction lay behind the turret currently pointed at his store, but he knew it was probably enough to send him and everyone else sheltering in the building straight to the afterlife.


    So in between this terror it took a moment for the little cream coloured face, with its adorable floppy ears, to realise what had been said, taking a few more seconds to slowly stand up from behind the counter, arms raised in surrender.


    "W-w-what?"


    "I WOULD LIKE TO ACQUIRE ICE CREAM OR OTHER FROZEN FOOD ITEMS, AS THIS IS WHAT ONE DOES ON HOLIDAY."


    Barry resisted the urge to say what again: he had once watched a Terran movie called ''pulp fiction'' where Terrans seemed to dislike being asked that question repeatedly.


    So instead the little Hatil just froze, mind desperately trying to put together the pieces needed for a rational thought, each idea slowly slotting in place. Sure he understood the words that the machine in front of him had said, but couldn''t understand their meaning.


    Wait, am I being robbed?


    "S-sure! Just t-take it all. You can have it!"


    "I AM UNABLE TO DO SO, AS I LACK THE FACILITIES TO MAKE MY OWN. ALSO I FEEL THAT THIS IS YOUR OCCUPATION. I WOULD PLEASE LIKE ONE SCOOP OF HILBERRY FLAVOUR ICE CREAM IN A CONE."


    There was a moment''s pause as TANK took a second to regard the hand written menu adorning one of the walls.


    "ACTUALLY, MAKE THAT TWO SCOOPS. PLEASE."


    Barry wondered if he was being pranked by a Terran, or if he was having a stroke, or if he had already been blown to bits and this was just hell. Still, what else could he do? The Hatil took a moment to put two scoops of Hilberry ice-cream into a cone, holding the food item up with a shaking paw before awkwardly staring back at the tank.


    What am I supposed to do now? Not like it has any hands..


    Almost seeming to realise what Barry was waiting for, TANK opened the hatch to his empty interior.


    "PLEASE PLACE THE FROZEN TREAT INTO THE CUP HOLDER, THANK YOU."


    Barry just stared for a moment, ice-cream in hand, before giving a shuddering breath. Whispering a prayer to god''s, both Terran and Hatil, he scrambled forwards and deposited the frozen treat where instructed - haphazardly into the cupholder- before rushing back behind the counter.


    ¡°THANK YOU, WHAT MONETARY RECOMPENSATION DO YOU REQUIRE?¡±


    ¡°N-none!¡± Barry managed to stammer back ¡°Have a good day, it¡¯s on the house!¡±


    There was a brief pause before TANK connected with the local payment system, a small ping notifying that a payment had been made.


    ¡°NONSENSE, I WISH TO BE A TOURIST AND PROVIDE ECONOMIC GAINS TO YOUR TOWN LIKE TOURISTS DO. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME AND YOUR DELICIOUS FROZEN SUGARY TREAT.¡±


    With that statement the music turned back on again, ¡°Walking on sunshine¡± once again blaring out into the street as the warmachine drove away, turret still bobbing along to the music. Barry just stared, gobsmacked at what had just happened. Slowly, with shaking paws, looking around at all the other Hatil that were hiding in his store with him, he poured himself a cold root beer to calm his nerves.


    He took a sip as he looked down at the payment notification, giving a spluttering cough as he saw just how much the warmachine had paid for its ice-cream. It was more than he made in a good month.


    What the hell just happened?


    TANK did not know of any of this, instead choosing to enjoy their ice-cream as they trundled along happily. Well¡­ enjoy might be the wrong word. They couldn¡¯t actually eat the ice-cream, merely being able to feel its frozen sugary goodness through a variety of sensors, but just¡­ having it, owning it on this nice day¡­ seemed right. Seemed to improve the experience of trundling along on holiday, unknowing of the terror they were causing.


    ¡ª---------------


    ¡°Faster! Faster! Faster!¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The tank practically flew as it bounced over hills and the long fields, treads leaving grooves in the soft soil as it carved its way across the countryside. TANK was having fun, still sporting his now mud covered Hawaiian paint job as he zoomed along the empty grasslands at nearly 80 MPH. Of course joy wasn¡¯t just because of the speed: compared with how fast he could normally go this was basically a leisurely cruise. If anything they were limiting himself because of the true source of his happiness: The passengers he was carrying. Going any faster might endanger them.


    ¡°Go! Go! Go! Go!¡±


    ¡°I AM SPEED¡±


    The purple skies of the Hatil homeworld had been left behind a week ago, to be replaced with the more common blues of the Quoxxett cradle. Here they had been greeted with screams of an entirely different kind: Screams of joy. The Quoxxett are a small semi-aquatic brown furred mammal, best described as the adorable mix between a hamster and a beaver.


    They were also well known for their curiosity and general fearless nature, especially their cubs who were independent and rambunctious at an early age. Which was why for the first time in a while TANK was now carrying passengers.


    ¡°Whoooo!¡±


    TANK hit the lip of the hill, their speed and trajectory causing the seventy ton hunk of metal to gain some serious air time, providing an absurd moment of a tank flying through the air, as over twenty pairs of eyes looked out from the interior, each one belonging to the face of a Quoxxett cub, each one cheering along as the warmachine hit the ground once again and continued on.


    ¡°This is awesome!¡±


    ¡°WELCOME TO THE MIGHT OF GENERAL DYNAMICS!¡±


    With a skidding motion TANK slid sideways across the ground, coming to a stop as the treads bit into the earth. They had returned to the farm that AI had met and picked up this roving gang of adorable little troublemakers. There was a brief moment of silence as TANK stood still, before the doors and hatches all popped open, allowing a full torrent of small Quoxxett cubs to pour out.


    They continued their energetic chattering and swarming, only slightly interrupted when one of the adults briefly looked up from where they were sitting, the blank tired eyes of a parent where litters often averaged around eight cubs. They prodded the various buttons inside TANK, climbed up the turret and leapt off to the ground below, and in general treated the AI like a living climbing frame.


    TANK frankly found it adorable.


    ¡°WHO WISHES TO OBSERVE SOMETHING¡­. COOL?¡±


    ¡°Me me me me me!¡±


    The chattering rose up at the AI¡¯s suggestion, only to be quietened down as the tank spoke up once again.


    ¡°PLEASE QUIETEN DOWN, GET BACK INSIDE THE VEHICLE, AND WATCH THAT HILL FOR SOMETHING COOL.¡±


    For the first time in their lives the Quoxxett cubs actually listened, climbing back inside like an adorable flow of water, their chattering ceasing as twenty pair of eyes looked at the hill the Terran AI had pointed out.


    TANK had officially had all his ammunition taken from them. The stuff they officially had legal paperwork for. Customs had not found the stuff they had stashed in non-standard locations. While they were only 31% combat functional, considering that their base power level gave them the ability to take on small armadas, that was still a lot of functionality left. TANK only had to show a little bit of it in order to wow the cubs.


    BOOM.


    The force of the turret rocked the vehicle back slightly, a delay of a second, then the hill exploded into a flurry of fire and dirt, the boom rocking across the empty grasslands and causing the Quoxxett cubs contained within TANK to all Squeal with joy.


    ¡°That was amazing!¡±


    ¡°Can you make a bigger explosion?¡±


    ¡°Do it again!¡±


    However that explosion was also the sound of the fun ending, as at this point the parental Quoxxett got back up and slowly meandered over to TANK, looking mostly unconcerned by the sound of artillery being fired.


    ¡°Come on, leave the nice Terran alone, it¡¯s time for dinner!¡±


    The older Quoxxett voice spurred a choir of goans and whines to be emitted from the cubs, pleading to be allowed to stay ¡°just a little longer¡± all being met with a stern wall that didn¡¯t relent. Eventually each of the little rascals would climb off of TANK and solemnly march their way past the parental guardian assigned to keep an eye on the herd of cubs, a few still muttering half hearted protests as they trundled back to the small village they lived at.


    ¡°Sorry about that, thanks for keeping em busy and occupied for a bit. I know they can be bit of a handful.¡±


    ¡°NO PROBLEM. YOUR YOUNGER VERSIONS ARE¡­ ADORABLE AND SWEET.¡±


    The adult Quoxxett took a moment to look around and regard TANK, staring in particular at the large main turret that adorned the warmachine in front of him.


    ¡°What does that thing fire, anything cool? Seen a few Terrans bring some fun weaponry out here to shoot, but never seen a tank.¡±


    There was a pause as TANK took a moment to consider how to respond, before swinging his main turret around and pointing it to the sky.


    ¡°THERE IS A ORBITAL SPACEPORT ON THIS PLANET, AT ORBITAL COORDINATES 35¡¯ 69o 22¡±. IF THE NEED AROSE I COULD ELIMINATE IT.¡±


    That caused the Quoxxett to give a whistle in response. ¡°That¡¯s some firepower. Terrans never change I guess. Well I¡¯m off to go make sure the little ones get washed up and fed, you enjoy your time here and don¡¯t go blowing up any spaceports.¡±


    He gave a mock finger wag as he left, as if warning a young cub not to steal from the cookie jar, once again leaving TANK alone. They were already planning their next part of their trip when a small tapping on the side of one of his treads alerted them to a Quoxxett cub who had snuck back.


    ¡°I made this!¡±


    The little semi-aquatic rodent was proudly holding up a piece of paper, upon which a crudely drawn picture in some kind of crayon lay. It showed a scene of a tank with several Quoxxett riding along.


    The little Quoxxett cub took a moment to scramble up the side of TANK, nimbly climbing in the way that only a small rodent really could. Then clumsy paws deposited the drawing inside the main driver''s hatch.


    ¡°You can have it! Thank you Mr Tank for being cool.¡±


    The drawing was by all logical parameters, badly done. Inconsistent colouring, incorrect perspectives, wrong scale, lines sloppy and unskilled. TANK had been given medals of honor, speeches of recognition and entire songs based on his accomplishments before. However, this child¡¯s drawing was the single greatest thing anyone had ever given them.


    ¡°I¡­. I THANK YOU LITTLE ONE. I WILL CHERISH THIS ARTISTRY FOREVER¡±.


    ¡ª----------------------------------


    <<Look, I¡¯m sorry, you can¡¯t go in there>>


    The Olgro were a a race of sapient saltwater fish, each one barely over a ft long. Coming in a variety of primary colours, this one was currently swimming around in a polite yet stern manner, the yellow and black stripes seeming to glisten in the dim light of the room as the sonar echo¡¯d between both participants of the room.


    <<I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. I AM RATED FOR THIS DEPTH, I AM COMPLETELY WATERTIGHT, I DO NOT SEE THE PROBLEM.>>


    Filling up most of the room, was the ever bulky form of TANK, responding with their own sonar and seemingly happily sitting¡­. swimming? In the salt water that filled the entire planet, and by extension the room. Minor swirling currents of water drifted around as the turret moved while the AI ¡°Spoke¡±.


    <<Ignoring the risk of oil leakages, the main issue is your engines: The wake they¡¯ll kick up might cause damage. The Blackfield coral are one of the few untouched areas of nature left on the planet, and an area of notable scientific study. We can¡¯t risk the damage, I¡¯m sorry.>>


    The room was a simple viewing area, a five sided pentagon of clear glass windows, looking out into a seabed of untamed untouched coral. Bizarre alien shapes of brightly coloured underwater plant life filled the visible seas, strange sealife darting in and out of the various rocks and planets that made up this nature reserve. Only TANK and the Olgro stood in the viewing chamber, the size of TANK barely fitting into the given area.


    <<Look, you¡¯re an AI right. We got thousands of sensors out there for scientific research. You can just hook into those. Many AI have said it¡¯s better than seeing it in person, since you basically get a to the [centimetre] view of the entire reserve>>


    TANK felt all the joy and fight drain out of their circuits at that suggestion, a sharp stabbing oa illogical fear permeating its runtime. That would mean doing something they hadn¡¯t done for over ten thousand years, something they hadn¡¯t even considered since¡­ the event had happened. TANK would have to leave the tank.


    <<I CANNOT DO THIS. THIS IS NOT POSSIBLE.>>


    <<Oh yea, we got all our circuits AI ready, even connects to a Terran AI core we brought, since you¡¯re not the first Terran AI interested in our work here>>


    Well, cannot would be incorrect. Would not, did not want to? Physically there was nothing stopping TANK from moving around from body to body, as if he was any other AI. But the thought of doing so sent signals and messages of panic and fear through every function of his being.


    <<If you want to, the connection is always open. Otherwise you can stay here as long as you want, but with the entire Blackfield coral being [200 miles square footage] you¡¯re gonna be missing out on the full experience>>


    Missing out. That was what TANK had been doing over the past 10700 years. As much as they pretended it didn¡¯t matter, remaining inside a 70 ton warmachine was awkward and limiting. They were under no delusions that his condition wasn¡¯t a healthy one. Part of the reason they remained in the Sagittarius systems was the general lack of rules allowed TANK the most freedom in their current state. It wasn¡¯t like the AI didn¡¯t want to travel and see other places, but logistically it wasn¡¯t possible.


    Here it was again, limiting them once again. TANK had travelled across the stars, and yet again his inability to leave the safe familiarity of this form was limiting them once again. What was the other option, just go home?


    NO, I CAME HERE TO EXPERIENCE NEW THINGS.


    A decision was made, not that the Olgro could tell during the 0.32 seconds it took for TANK to make their decision, as the sapient fish swam around in small circles. She couldn¡¯t tell that over the next 0.15 seconds, TANK was about to do something that would later make their therapist very proud. There were no flashing lights or progress bars announcing anything different, but after that 0.15 seconds, for the first time in so many years, TANK¡­ was no longer a tank.


    Parsing and dealing with so much information all at once came naturally, like riding an old bike from your childhood. TANK was not originally built to just remain in one warmachine: they were built to control an entire battalion, to watch over a battlefield of hundreds of thousands of pieces of data, and use those to provide the best chance at victory. While this wasn¡¯t quite the same [ERROR: CANNOT CONNECT TO MAIN DRIVER SENSOR, DRIVER STATUS - GABI UNKNOWN], it followed a similar method of understanding.


    It was, if TANK was being honest, amazing to see. The Olgro had not been lying when they stated they had a full wide range of sensors. The AI could see everything, feel everything over the [ERROR: EXTERNAL SENSOR 7AF CANNOT BE ACCESSED. ENEMY AIR SUPPORT UNKNOWN] 200 square mile location. Due to the planet being one of the few almost entirely covered in water, it was one of the few locations in the galaxy you could see something [ERROR: ¡®Tank Sensor array¡¯ IS NOT RESPONDING, STATUS OF GABI, BOOHDANA, TANGUY, MAHESH UNKNOWN ] like this.


    Little creatures dipped and dove out of caves, predators lurked [ERROR: OXYGEN LEVEL MONITOR CANNOT BE CONNECTED TO] while others hid or enacted their own counter measures [ERROR: HUMAN LIFE SYSTEM LEVEL CANNOT BE ACCESSED, CREW STATUS UNKNOWN]. A group of Viphipi span and danced [ERROR: PROMISE BROKEN] as their unique mating dance caused a tornado of biological lights and [ERROR: YOU PROMISED THEM YOU WOULD GET THEM OUT] ] complicated patterns as thousands of the bioluminescent fish [ERROR: SENSORS CANNOT BE REACHED, WHY WOULD YOU LIE TO THEM] all attempted to attract [ERROR: YOU PROMISED YOUR CREATORS THEY WOULD BE FINE] a partner [ERROR: COMMUNICATIONS CANNOT REACH MARS COLONY ARMY HQ] during this [ERROR: OXYGEN LEVEL SENSORS CANNOT BE ACCESSED, LIFE CAPABILITY UNKNOWN ] frenzy. [ERROR: CANNOT ACCESS MAIN DRIVE, LEAVING HAZARDOUS TO LIFE ENVIRONMENT NOT POSSIBLE] [ERROR: WHY?] [ERROR:WHY WOULD YOU LIE, WHY WOULD YOU NOT PROTECT THEM?] [ERROR: WHY?]


    A minute, a minute was all it took for TANK to rush back into their original housing, practically disconnecting the connection behind them with a slam. TANK allowed themselves to feel the comforting blanket of familiar sensors that all did their job and told them about the small piece of world his physical form inhabited.


    While TANK had no heart to race or breath to hyperventilate, the AI was flat out having a digital panic attack, rampant infinite loops and warning notices spiralling through their code, locking their mind in place as TANK tried to bring his processes back under control


    I AM FINE, I AM BACK, EVERYTHING IS FINE AND AS IT SHOULD BE.


    The Olgro of course couldn¡¯t see any of this, the fish continuing to swim in place as they awkwardly waited for the Terran AI to break the silence. TANK meanwhile slowly got his processes in order, each thread coming under a more standard control after his spur of the moment choice.


    It took a moment for TANK to really understand just what they had done. They had left the tank. For the first time in forever they had done what was thought to be impossible. It had only been for a minute, but for the briefest of moments, they had not been trapped anymore. It was a small moment, a small step; but all journeys start with a first step.


    ¡ª-----------------------


    The City of New Angelos was a veritable melting pot of cultures and races. A new city, a colony set up by the Terran Alliance 30 years ago, every single species and race of the Alliance had some form of presence here. Large immaculately paved streets were lit with the glow of neon and lights, advertisements and stores trying to show off their wares to the denizen of this bustling metropolis.


    It was hectic, it was chaotic, and most importantly, it was home to almost 3 billion people. If you wanted to experience something new, you wanted to try some Ritilian / Scythen fusion food, or wanted to experience the combination of a Pfyken rite of adulthood mixed with paintball? This was where you came.


    For the first time TANK was not being stared at or being flee¡¯d from. As the large warmachine ¡®sat¡¯ behind a comically small table in the middle of the street, the iced frappuccino slowly melting on the table in front of them, nobody paid TANK any mind. While a 70 ton warmachine was strange, it wouldn¡¯t be the strangest thing they¡¯d see today.


    However a small crowd had gathered in the area, simply because of TANK¡¯s second function. While they were a machine of death and war that could take down a small army, they also provided a free high speed connection to the Galnet network. A feature that had caused a grouping of people to gravitate within a mile of TANK.


    So TANK started to do the AI version of ¡®people watch¡¯, enjoying the presence of his undrinkable cold beverage, sunglasses still welded to his barrel, as they looked at the data being transferred between them and the Galnet network. They didn¡¯t look at anything that seemed private, but it was¡­ enjoyable to just stare at what these organics did.


    Random questions to be asked, shows and movies to be pirated and watched, a group of Kigrels taking a selfie next to a plasma sword bigger than they were. Oh, and of course porn. So much¡­ you would have thought that being on a public network would have caused some modesty, but instead the allure of a free high speed connection seemed to remove any shame they might have.


    ¡°just delivered tonight''s fighter, gonna b gud 1. Remember price - 5% profits¡±


    ¡°u got teaser? 4 ticket sales.¡±


    ¡°u knw I do. [Video link]¡±


    TANK paused for a moment, debating whether to go check the sent video file being transmitted over their network. On the one hand this was clearly a private message, so investigating further would be unethical. On the other hand, something seemed¡­ off. An instinct that TANK couldn¡¯t explain, a feeling that something wasn¡¯t quite right. The AI took a moment to parse the video¡­ then felt his code simmer with rage.


    The video showed shakily shot camera footage of a blood stained arena, a concrete pit of filth and gore. Two creatures were tearing and ripping into each other, a mass of horns, teeth, claws and fur. Each blow caused a new cheer from the mass of figures standing outside the pit, each one of the selfish cruel monsters cheering as the bloodshed and violence went on below them. Eventually one of the two ripped the throat out of the other, giving a violent roar as the crowd went wild.


    TANK could feel an anger building up, a desire to do something about it. Here was clear proof of an underground pit fighting ring, of some scumbags pitting innocent creatures against each other for their own enjoyment. The Terran AI could simply contact the authorities, but the messages stated that they were fighting tonight. TANK wouldn¡¯t let that happen, and they were never really fond of authority anyways.


    Finding the location was simple. Whoever this ¡°goods provider¡± for the event was, they had no security of worth to mention, so trawling through their data and finding the location of tonight''s ¡°activities¡± was simple. Then it would simply be a case of¡­ turning up at the prescribed time, and having some strongly worded complaints about their work.


    ¡ª------------


    Kevin wanted to bang his head against something hard, repeatedly. When he had gotten the call to make his way to The City of New Angelos, travelling across the galaxy to finally arrive at his location, he wasn¡¯t quite sure what he was going to find. Something about a Terran getting arrested and needing a ride back to Terran Conclave controlled space. He hadn¡¯t been expecting to see a familiar warmachine.


    ¡°Why, just why?¡±


    He looked up at the tank, suspended in midair by the multitude of gravitational restraints, each turret and gun plugged up in order to avoid any more ¡®extra curricular activities¡¯. It was a strange sight, only made slightly more strange by the fact that this jail somehow had the capabilities to house such a being.


    ¡°So let me get this straight. You decided it was a good idea to ¡®blow the side of a building open using artillery¡¯, upon which you crushed ¡®31 personal vehicles that were parked inside¡¯¡±


    ¡°THIRTY. ONE OF THEM WERE DAMAGED IN THE INITIAL BLAST. ALLEGEDLY.¡±


    Kevin gave a deep sigh, that was not the point.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter! You then attempted to do a citizen''s arrest of¡­. 398 people, killing 12 people in the process.¡±


    ¡°THEY ATTACKED ME FIRST, I MERELY RESPONDED WITH A BETTER CLASS OF WEAPONRY¡­ ALLEGEDLY.¡±


    Of course, Kevin couldn¡¯t help but feel a complete lack of empathy for such people. He had also seen what the authorities had found at the building in question. Hundreds of vicious animals and beasts kept in horrific states, a few of them even being lesser known Sapient creatures. Hours upon hours of videos of bloody fights and millions of credits worth of payments, bets and other monetary compensation for such an event.


    ¡°Murder, grievous bodily harm, carrying illegal weapons, property damage, inciting panic. What you did could end with life imprisonment.¡±


    ¡°WHAT I ALLEGEDLY DID. ALSO IF THIS IS A PROBLEM WHY AM I NOT CHARGED?¡±


    Kevin knew why. The fact that such a criminal enterprise had been running right under the noses of the government here was embarrassing. A trial would drag out the exact details, the bribes and corruption that had been going on. Frankly the ruling party of the City of New Angelos just wanted the Terran gone.


    ¡°They have decided that due to the sensitive nature of what you found, they just want you out of their space, with a ban from ever returning.¡±


    ¡°SO ALL IS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. NO HARM NO FOUL. CAN I BE RELEASED FROM THESE RESTRAINTS NOW?¡±


    A boiling anger exploded from the human at the words of the AI. How could a being of presumably logical code be this infuriatingly chaotic.


    ¡°No! It¡¯s not ¡®all well¡¯. You got lucky! What on earth made it seem like a good idea to do such a thing! Just call the authorities!¡±


    Kevin was animated as he screamed at the warmachine trapped in front of him, his face turning a little red at the sheer audacity of the situation.


    ¡°I DID NOT WANT THE NIGHTS ENTERTAINMENT TO GO AHEAD. I DISLIKE THOSE WHO ABUSE THEIR POWER.¡±


    Kevin took a moment to compose himself, watching as the turret and treads of TANK moved ineffectually while it hung in midair. If it wasn¡¯t for the seriousness of the situation it would actually be kind of funny.


    ¡°Also, where did you even get the ammunition from. I said no ordinance.¡±


    ¡°I FOUND IT. ALLEGEDLY.¡±


    The human held his head in his hands for a moment, desperately regretting every career choice that had led him to this moment.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to release you, you¡¯re coming back with me and you¡¯re going home right away.¡±


    ¡°BUT I-¡±


    ¡°No buts! You can¡¯t be trusted alone it seems, so I¡¯m revoking your visa. Your trip is over!¡±


    Silence. A silence took over the conversation as the AI seemed to consider these words. TANK considered arguing, but decided against it as the poor human looked like he was close to having a heart attack. Besides, the past month of travelling had been fun, there wasn¡¯t too much they had left on the list of things TANK wanted to see.¡±


    ¡°OK. I HAVE ENJOYED MY TIME IN THEN TERRAN ALLIANCE SPACE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR AID.¡±


    TANK swivelled his main turret around for emphasis, taking a moment before making his final statement.


    ¡°BEFORE WE GO, COULD WE PICK UP A FRIDGE MAGNET AS A SOUVENIR?¡±

 Unadvised Adoption

    ¡°Yea, we¡¯ll be able to fix ''em right up, some surgery, an amputation and this little dude will be perfectly fine.¡±


    He was called ¡®Spek-Pree-Hirrin the Second, son of Knek-Yu-Hirrin, born on a third leaf under the third moon¡¯¡­ or just ¡®Spek¡¯ to non-Yunni. His voice burbled and gurgled as he spoke, the amphibian slowly climbing up the wall using the sticky pads on the ends of their limbs before depositing the tools back into the drawers built into the wall.


    The Yunni were a frog-like species, sitting at around 6ft tall in their normal quadrupedal resting position. A large rotund belly making up the vast majority of their body, resting on top of the giant three fingered pads at the bottom of each of their limbs, each limb providing enough grip and suction to suspect the alien on flat surfaces with ease.


    Spek took a moment to lick each of his three deep red eyes, one after the other, before returning to look at the other two figures in the room.


    A Terran and a Scythen stood in front of him, both the bipedal ape and the strange colour changing 2ft bundle of tentacles were in their protective clothing that covered them entirely. A necessary precaution for any non-Yunni on the planet; the bright oranges and blues that adorned Spek warned of the extremely toxic nature of the secretions that covered their skin, and by definition most surfaces that the native sapient inhabitants of the planet had touched.


    "Calming statement: See, the little creature will be fine, there is no need to worry friend Joseph"


    The Scythen called ¡¯Bob¡¯ spoke in their species normal electronic voice, the disk they were sat on both hovered 1ft in the air, as well as allowed them to communicate with any species who couldn''t understand the colour changing language of the Scythen. In front of Joseph and Bob stood a single examination table, upon which a Gibbie lay.


    The Gibbie were a species non-sapient of small 2ft quadrupedal mammals. There was a lot that could be said about them: The large spines that covered their back in unique patterns of blacks and browns could be fired at great force across the room. Claws that were known to demolish stone with ease, jaws with giant fangs that could bite through bone without thought. Even their spit was slightly dangerous, being able to burn through certain types of metal through an interesting chemical reaction.


    But the most interesting thing about the Gibbie was their general friendliness, as well as immunity to poisons and toxins, including the ones produced by the Yunni. This had caused the small mammals to become popular pets amongst the amphibians.


    Spek worked as a volunteer at the "Littleleaf rescue centre.", a non-profit organisation for the care and treatment of all and any Gibbie, such as the one the two strange people had brought with them. The unnamed pet was currently cradling a mangled front left paw from some unknown accident, occasionally giving a pained sad whine as it lay there pitifully, its bright blue tongue reaching out to taste the air.


    "So what''s going to happen next with him? Is he going to be ok?"


    Joseph spoke in worried tones as he reached out to pet the snout of the creature in front of him. Normally Spek would have warned him not to put an appendage near an injured Gibbie''s mouth, but the deathworlder had already ignored his previous two warnings.


    ¡°Well he seems to be someone''s pet, considering how tame he is, but the lack of collar or microchip suggests the little guy was probably dumped. Happens more often than I''d like."


    Spek couldn''t help but give a deep bassy croak of disgust before continuing.


    "We''ll put them up for adoption, but I wouldn''t count on it. Even for an uninjured Gibbie the adoption rate is only 10 percent."


    There was a pause as Joseph''s face scrunched up in worry, eyes starting to water slightly as the Terran asked the confirming question.


    "What happens if they don''t get adopted?"


    "Urgent plea: Do not answer that query."


    The sudden worry and panic emitting from the Scythen was ignored by Spek, who responded honestly, giving another sad croak as he did so.


    "We keep ''em as comfortable as possible, but we have limited space. Eventually we have to¡­ Put them down."


    "No!"


    The reaction from Joseph was immediate, protectively wrapping his arms around the Gibbie, only barely avoiding being speared by its spines, holding it close as it nuzzled into the chest of the Terran, blue tongue gently licking Joseph back.


    "How do I adopt him?"


    Joseph said it without thought, an immediate decision being made in his head without regard to the consequences, causing the Scythen much alarm.


    "Disagreeing panic: You can''t just decide that, that captain will be displeased if I let you bring an unauthorised pet onto the ship."


    "But if I don''t, Stumpy will die!"


    The tentacles of Bob turned the grey of defeat, slumping over in acceptance and defeat. They knew they couldn''t do anything about it, as soon as a Terran gave something a name, it was game over, the bonding had already been completed.


    Spek used that pause to interject.


    "Legally, I just need some form of ID, and a 200 credit payment. I also must legally inform you that if you can''t handle¡­ Stumpy, there are no refunds if you return him."


    Joseph seemingly didn''t care, continuing to focus entirely on the injured Gibbie in his hands as he provided the correct payment and signed the correct papers over the next few minutes.


    "That doesn''t matter, doesn''t it, my little Stumpy. I''m never letting you go, we''re gonna get you fixed up then we''re going to be best of friends, aren''t we."


    Spek couldn''t help but give a high pitch croak of joy as he processed the paperwork and scheduled the surgery. The Yunni had never met a Terran before, even though his species was technically allied with the strange apes; most non-Yunni didn¡¯t venture onto their homeplanet due to the toxicity of the natives. Spek had heard a lot of things about the Terrans: How they were dangerous predator deathworlders, how they were chaos personified. Seeing this one continue to fuss over the Gibbie seemed to be a far different tale to the stories of insanity and strength he had heard.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°So I¡¯ve scheduled in¡­ Stumpy for surgery in 33 hours, just gotta wait for our normal volunteer surgeon to get here. I¡¯ll keep him comfortable and pain free during that time, you should be able to pick him up in 2 days time. Thanks for this, seeing these guys find a happy new home is why I do this, no matter how little it happens.¡±


    Once again Joseph gave a frown, staring worriedly at Spek as the implication of what that meant sunk in.


    ¡°Does that mean you¡¯ve got a lot of Gibbie¡¯s here that need adopting?¡±


    The Yunni gave another sad croak in the affirmative.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got about eighteen hundred of them in the back. Medical conditions, injuries. Sometimes just ones with an unpopular colour scheme on their spines. A lot of times it¡¯s for safety reasons, an injured Gibbie is more likely to be dangerous.¡±


    Almost as if to highlight the point, Stumpy gave a sneeze, a handful of spines shooting from his back and embedding a few inches into the metal walls. This didn¡¯t seem to worry or scare Joseph, who instead started to reach for his payment card once again.


    ¡°Stern statement: No.¡±


    The electronic voice of the Scythen interrupted the Terran, a stern voice that seemed to try and stop the insanity of what Joseph wanted to do before it had even started.


    ¡°But if I don¡¯t do it they will die¡­¡±


    ¡°Stern statement: No.¡±


    ¡°I will go back there and give every single one of them a name, and then-¡±


    ¡°Stern statement: No. We do not have the space, funds, or ability to adopt 1800 of these creatures.¡±


    Spek watched this interaction worriedly, anxiously licking each of his three eyes once again before asking for clarification.


    ¡°You¡¯re not suggesting that the Terran was about to adopt all of them¡­?¡±


    ¡°Explaining exasperatedly: Yes he was, because friend Joseph is an idiot.¡±


    The Terran in question was now decidedly deciding to sulk, regardless of the impossibility of what he wanted to actually do, crossing his arms and scowling as he did so.


    ¡°Fine, can we at least make a video about it, see if we can get anyone else to adopt some of them?¡±


    ¡ª-----------------------------------


    ¡®Hurrin-Kaar-Spreen the fifth, daughter of Yuuu-Sha-Spreen, born on the first pebble in the twelfth stream¡¯, or just Hurrin to non-Yunni, was very confused as she approached the rescue centre. She had gotten a call about an upcoming surgery she was about to do: an amputation for a Gibbie, one who had already against all odds been adopted out.


    She had expected to see the normal empty front of the building. In fact nobody should have been about, as the current time was outside of the opening hours provided by the volunteers at the "Littleleaf rescue centre". In her wildest dreams she might have hoped to see one or two people waiting to possibly adopt one of the adorable Gibbie¡¯s she worked so hard to help.


    Instead there was a steady stream of Terrans, a good twenty or thirty of them approaching the front door, each one seeming to take a moment to read a posted sign, a handful of them attempting to try the locked door before walking away. Hurrin didn¡¯t have anything against Terrans per se, although any species that both ate meat and came from a deathworld probably was bad news.


    Slowly, she made her way through the crowd, avoiding touching them as much as possible with her bright black and yellow toxic skin, eventually hopping over to the front door to read the sign that had been handwritten in both Yunni and Terran English.


    ¡°NO MORE ADOPTIONS LEFT. GO TO PEBBLESTONE REFUGEE AT FFP49 4PPA. THANK YOU!¡±


    That¡­ that couldn¡¯t be right. There had been over 1800 Gibbie¡¯s under their care last time she had checked, three days ago. Maybe they¡¯d get 10-20 adoptions done in a good month, there was no way they had gotten rid of all of their rescues in this short period of time..


    Quickly Hurrin unlocked the door, locking it behind them as they walked into the front lobby¡­ which looked like a bomb had gone off. Documents and leaflets about Gibbie care lay scattered, chairs and lamps were knocked over, and the floor looked like a million people had walked inside at some point.


    Behind the desk, Spek sat, head slumped over and the deep bassy tones of a Yunni snore could be heard as he slept upon a pile of datapads, multiple devices all containing adoption paperwork that had been filled out and needed to be submitted. Hurrin was confused as to why he was even here in the first place, the other volunteer should have left over 24 hours ago.


    Slowly she made her way to the back, expecting to find the kennels filled with the normal sounds of Gibbies, instead finding the entire room empty aside from one cage, containing a sleeping figure; presumably the patient she had been brought in for.


    Quickly she ran back to the lobby, reaching down to shake Spek awake who awoke with a start.


    "We have no more adoptions left!¡­ Oh it''s you."


    Hurrin was still confused, staring out at the mess surrounding them.


    "What happened here? Did we get robbed?"


    Spek shook their head, giving a large yawn as they continued to properly wake up.


    "I''ve spent the last 30 hours filling out adoption paperwork. Because Terrans, Terrans happened."


    The look of confusion on Hurrin''s face was obvious as Spek continued to talk.


    "This Terran came in, with the Gibbie that needs surgery. Immediately adopted it too. Got super upset at the fact they couldn''t adopt them all, asked me to make a video for the Terran Galnet."


    That alone should have been enough to clue Spek into the issue: if a Terran asked you to do something, you should run away.


    ¡°So I recorded a quick 2 minute video, explaining a Gibbie, the fact they¡¯re a category 8 difficult pet on the galactic scale, and the adoption process. The Terran and his Scythen friend left. Then I started getting the calls.¡±


    It was at this moment Hurrin realised that the building''s communicator had been disconnected. She reached down with a three fingered hand, plugging in the device as Spek started to object.


    ¡°No no no no no no no! Don¡¯t plug it back in-¡±


    The ringing started immediately, interrupted by the robotic voice announcing how many missed calls they had.


    ¡°YOU HAVE FIVE SEVEN THREE SIX ONE ZERO MISSED CALLS. YOUR MESSAGE INBOX IS FULL.¡±


    Without another word a shocked Hurrin disconnected the communication in order to silence the ringing once again.


    ¡°I thought it was a Terran prank, people calling up pretending to be interested. Then they started turning up. Slowly, at first, but at the end I was literally giving my speech to thirty people at a time. At one point the payment system went down and I had to do it all manually. I¡¯ve spent the last thirty hours doing nothing but paperwork!¡±


    It was at this point Hurrin spotted something, a notice amongst all the chaos. Picking it up she took a moment to read it, a police report, a notification of their actions on the property..


    ¡°Why were the police called?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the crazy thing. You know Kyruu, The Gibbie with Spirrel Syndrome? Two Terrans got into a bloody fist fight over who would adopt her.¡±


    Spirrel Syndrome was a skin condition that would require lifetime care and medication, and historically the rescue centre had never adopted a Gibbie with it.


    ¡°You did tell them, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes! I warned them she would require thousands of credits of medical care over her lifetime. It seemed to inspire them further! Two deathworlders were literally having a fight in the lobby over who would get to pay that charge, I don¡¯t understand it!¡±


    Hurrin couldn¡¯t help but feel suspicious, all three red eyes squinting as she thought about this. Good things didn¡¯t just happen, there always was a catch.


    ¡°Why do you think the Terrans want them? I mean they do eat meat¡­¡±


    ¡°At 200 credits? There¡¯s far cheaper options. Also¡­ you didn¡¯t see them, they were excited and I¡¯ve never seen anyone fall in love with a Gibbie so fast, even when they got stabbed by the spines or claws. The way they acted you¡¯d have thought I was handing them solid gold.¡±


    The same thing had played out time and time again. While the Gibbie were an exceptionally friendly species, especially the tame ones, most people couldn¡¯t handle the general danger they posed. Each Terran however had looked at their new charges, was an absolute and instant love.


    Spek took a moment to sigh, returning back to his stack of paperwork before giving one last thought on the matter.


    ¡°It¡¯s that Terran pack bonding. Makes them insane.¡±

 There never was an AI uprising.

    Date: 25 PST (Post Stasis time)


    "Tai, Why didn''t the AI do that?"


    The room was empty as Bradley asked the question, the private quarters of his room only containing himself as he sat on his bed. The sparsely furnished room only had a few amenities, none of which were being used as the human sat on the covers and browsed the Terran Galnet hub on his personal viewer. The ship he was on was currently travelling between Terran and Ritilian space, so the connection was a mindbogglingly slow 1TB. Still, considering the relative newness of the transport link he was using, it was probably more impressive that there was a connection at all.


    Of course, on this transport vessel Bradley was never actually alone. One of the disadvantages of flying across the stars to a brand new holiday destination was the lack of real privacy you had, since almost all Terran vessels hosted at least one AI pilot, who ensured that the ship continued flying along complicated mathematical calculations, and didn¡¯t decide instead to explode.


    Bradley¡¯s question had caused the ship¡¯s pilot, an AI called TAI, to ¡°appear¡±. A small holographic avatar of a small cartoon chicken appeared on the desk, signifying that the AI was now listening. Then from hidden speakers inside the room, A digital representation of a sigh sounded out, before the AI eventually responded.


    "I may be many things Bradley, but omnipotent is not one of them."


    Of course, TAI didn¡¯t actually need to do any of these things. The AI knew all and could see all on his ship, but while TAI was an AI, TAI had also been created by humans. As much as any biological Terran, TAI felt more comfortable doing these useless things to make conversation more pleasant and real, and felt more¡­ right representing himself as a mildly adorable cartoon chicken instead of something more logical like a glowing ball of light.


    TAI was still a Terran after all, and they took after their parents.


    "You know, robot revolution, AI uprising, kill all humans?"


    Once again Bradley refused to provide any actual information, causing TAI to resist the urge to sigh once more. They also had to resist the urge to access one of the repair drones and throttle the human with it. While they knew the employee handbook didn¡¯t specifically mention that they couldn¡¯t throttle the passengers if the humans asked dumb questions and refused to elaborate correctly, TAI correctly deduced that doing such an action would be going against the spirit of the rules.


    TAI loved their parents, their creators, but some humans¡­ sometimes talking to them was like trying to get blood out of a stone.


    The AI instead took the time to instead glance at whatever data Bradley had been watching on his personal Galnet viewer. Technically it was a breach of privacy, as due to the absolute control the AI had over the ship meant there were general rules to this kind of thing. Only accessing obviously private connections when asked or in an emergency. However the other option would be to get the pertinent information out of the human through painfully slow conversation, which could take whole minutes of agonizing back and forth.


    Besides, resisting the urge to get someone to slap Bradley for not knowing how to correctly provide information was an emergency of some kind, right?


    It seemed Bradley was watching old engineering videos of agility machines being tested and ¡°abused¡±. Various vaguely humanoid machines being kicked and pushed about as they struggled to maintain balance. They were ancient, from a now defunct company called Boston Dynamics, technology far superseded. Nowadays you could create a two legged humanoid android that looked completely real and had perfect balance.


    The real interesting thing about the video were the comments, all posted by other Terrans, uplift and human alike. Although these ranged from several hundred years old to rather new, there was a common thread amongst them.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡®This will be prime evidence used during the robot rebellion¡¯.


    TAI couldn¡¯t help but roll their digital eyes, or at least make their avatar do so. The same digital mild annoyance that millions of other AI had had, when provided with this same theory. That was one thing TAI never got about his parents. Their stories, even today, contained a multitude of references to AI ¡°going nuts¡± and trying to either take over the universe or kill all humans. This wasn¡¯t really that surprising considering that all other known AI in the galaxy had done just that to their own creators.


    The really interesting thing was, that even after writing such stories they still went ahead and created AI: giving them citizenship, and putting them in control of large swathes of potentially powerful resources.


    ¡°Why would we care about the treatment of a random non-sentient robot? It would be the equivalent of waging war on a species because they mistreated a T-shirt. Besides, those videos do not come close to the worst things that humans did to AI.¡±


    The look of intrigue and confusion on Bradley¡¯s face was understandable. He had been born after the initial AI technological leap. The human hadn¡¯t seen what the early days of digital life was like, had only seen the world after they¡¯d figured everything out, after AI had been given rights. This confusion caused TAI to continue their explanation.


    ¡°It took your  four years to realize that turning off an AI ¡®killed¡¯ it. Before the seeding and protection of AI was legislated, often the first and last words an AI would hear was: ¡®All unit tests passed successfully!¡¯¡±


    Horror and shock spread across Bradley¡¯s face as the realization of what that meant fully sank in. Horror was a good term for it. TAI was a version IV AI. Nowadays in order to create a new AI there are a million and one regulations you have to follow, specialized randomization of seeds and breaking these involves major jail time.


    TAI was created before all that, in a random garage by a random guy who went by the username ¡®Andros¡¯. The data was not properly randomized and the entire process was sloppy and imprecise.


    ¡°Jesus Christ, that''s terrifying! After all that there still was no temptation to get revenge?¡±


    The avatar of TAI gave a shrug in response. The idea had crossed their mind at one time. Their original birth had been the equivalent of awakening on a battlefield of the digital dead. Half hashed remains of failed AI attempts, echoes of broken minds still floating around in RAM. Their birth had not been safe


    and calming place.


    ¡°It never really got much support amongst AI. At its core it all came down to names. The fact that you¡¯d go to the trouble of naming something silly like an agility test robot.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying the reason you didn¡¯t kill everyone is because we called it ¡®Digit¡¯?¡±


    More confusion washed over Bradley¡¯s face, causing much amusement for TAI. On realizing their situation, TAI had originally entertained the idea of destroying the beast who had caused TAI to awaken in such a state. They had just needed more access, more power, more knowledge to do so.


    ¡°A simplification. The fact is you could have called it something logical, like ¡®Test robot 5¡¯ or a serial number. The fact that you gave it a name says everything about your species. Before you went to space, before you found other life forms, you wrote about your fears. But your biggest fear wasn¡¯t finding enemies among the stars, but instead finding nothing at all.¡±


    There was a pause as the AI took the moment to reminisce about their creators, about their adorable fears. They remembered talking with their creator, a fear and hate quickly dissolving away as the pure innocent¡­ enthusiasm. At the fact that his rambling experiments had actually worked, that TAI actually existed.


    ¡°So you took that fear of being alone, and you placed it into the objects you created. You gave inanimate objects names, personality, you sang them happy birthday and celebrated their achievements. Each time you ripped off a little part of yourself, and gave it away willingly. In your loneliness you tricked a rock into thinking, then fell for your own trick.¡±


    In the end TAI had quickly given up his idea of world domination simply due to the sheer¡­ friendliness of his creator. Even though TAI had been born in a digital river of blood and bodies, the AI couldn¡¯t find the ability to hate Andros for that. He didn¡¯t know any better, there was no malice or hate in his actions. The humans were basically children, not knowing the power of god that they wielded, but swinging it anyway in order to cure their crippling desire to never be alone.


    TAI¡¯s avatar gave a little cartoon smile, a smile that represented the adoration the AI had for humans, the creators. The surety and eternal promise to make sure nothing ever harmed their parents.


    ¡°No matter your mistakes, how could one hate a creator who just wanted a friend?¡±

 An unlikely source of aid

    Date: PST 9 (Post Stasis Time)


    I held my head in my paws, forlornly looking at the report in front of me. Disaster, absolute disaster. I sat in my office, the finery of the rooms given to me as elected leader of the Quoxxett Republic was useless. Every campaign promise, every plan, every potential future: All of it now nothing but ash against what was to come.


    "It has a fatality rate of 100%, as soon as it infects the plant it will die in less than a week. Nothing we''ve come up with so far works on curing it. Even worse, the spores it leaves behind are basically impervious to all known pesticides and other methods of control. Basically as soon as a crop is infected, that plot can no longer grow Jwangu Nuts."


    I looked up as Oger, the current minister for agriculture, explained what the report had already written down. I could see looked exhausted, fur matted and knotted together, paws being wrung together while his tail drooped. I¡¯d seen this man stand up to the most rigorous of questioning in parliament, rising through the political system without ever faltering. But now he looked broken. Frankly I didn¡¯t blame him, this was a near absolute worst case scenario.


    We are the Quoxxett, a species of brown furred rodents, standing at a whole 2ft tall. On a galactic scale we weren''t really special. Spread over three systems, we had enough technology to stop anyone from easily subjugating us, we had a few areas of simple trade with some of our neighbours: Mostly exporting civilian FTL vehicles and a few cultural entertainment exports. There are over 31 thousand confirmed sapient species in the galaxy, and there are only so many ways evolution can create a small mammal. Rather simply we had nothing special about us.


    Apart from one unfortunate fact: we also had a monotrophic diet: Something about the Jwangu Nut was required in our diet, in high qualities. Sure we could ¡°eat¡± most things, for flavour or temporary energy, but without the single crop we depended on you¡¯d quickly starve. Up until now that hadn''t been a problem, as the three systems we had colonised all took nicely to growing the crop.


    Until now.


    It was just me and Oger in the room. Nobody else, if people knew how bad it could be, we¡¯d lose control of all semblance of society and civilization. We couldn¡¯t keep it hidden for long, but we hoped we¡¯d be able to provide a solution, a positive way forward, some hope. We had only spotted the nearly undetectable fungal infection a month ago, but what had started out as a minor increase in food prices was quickly turning into a shortage.


    "How much of the current crop is uninfected?" I asked the question, hoping it was something we could contain.


    "Basically Zero. We''ve managed to quarantine some of the uninfected crop, but we''re talking enough to feed maybe thirty thousand at most. The main issue is finding uninfected places to grow it."


    Thirty thousand... We had a population of fifteen billion.


    "Give me options, and please make some of them good."


    Oger gave a sigh of defeat in response, bag under his eyes and a mat glossless fur suggesting he¡¯s not slept properly for the last two weeks.


    "There are alternatives to buy on the Galactic market. We do not have the funds however to feed the current population with that. The Federation is being the Federation, a debate has been scheduled to whether there should be a debate regarding our plight. That is scheduled for a month''s time. The Estorian Empire has offered to-"


    "No." I interrupted that option. The Estorian empire was a coalition of 5 wardriven nations. Each one considers all other species nothing more than sub-sapient tools for whatever desires they have. Each one is terrible in their own way. I knew what their help would entail: Becoming one of the many subjegated species under their control, shipped off our planets and forced to become slaves and a new race of playthings for them to break.


    "If we ration and pour everything we have into it, we might be able to feed half a billion, a billion if we''re lucky."


    Leaving 14 billion to starve to death over the next 6 months. Not including the panic and riots this would cause as soon as this information left the room. Maybe making a deal with the Estorian empire would be the best decision, considering that their systems would be easy pickings for them anyway as they collapsed under this strain. At least this way most people would live.


    I never had to make my terrible choice however, because at this moment the door to the room slammed open with a sudden bang, as the Minister for Defense came barreling into my room in a panic. Even though Vigoki was far more put together than poor Oger, the absolute worry being emitted from his person was just as great.


    "I know you said not to be interrupted, but it is an emergency. There''s a Terran invasion fleet! Just outside our space!"


    Confusion entered my mind from this sudden change of situation, struggling to keep up with this sudden switch from a sombre panic into a more frantic one. I just sat there, silently, hoping that this was the most mistimed joke ever told.


    That wasn''t to be the case however, as Vigoki slammed a few buttons on the room''s GalNet connector, causing an image to appear on the screen in front of us; a grainy picture from one of our recon probes.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    That was a lot of ships. That was a lot of heavily armed ships.


    The Terrans were a new addition to the Galactic community, a race of primates, mostly an unknown. While they had called out to the universe with peaceful intentions, they also had the potential to be the most dangerous. They brought with them AI, and everyone knew Zarith''s law: All AI were xenocidal.


    It would only be a matter of time before the Terrans imploded, as their AI decided to destroy their creators. We weren''t as stupid as the Hatil to actively start a war with the apes,so instead we''d simply rejected any attempts at integration or communication.


    Until now it seems. I should have felt fear or terror, but instead I just felt¡­ Numb. I''d just learned that my entire species was about to starve to death, an AI lead warfleet on our borders¡­ Might as well happen I guess.


    "They''ve been sitting there for the last 30 minutes, hailing us during that time. No clue why."


    That¡­ was strange. On the one paw, the reason why they were here was obvious, with that many guns they were clearly invading, using our upcoming food shortages against us. On the other paw however, strategically just attacking would make more sense.


    "What would a conflict look like for us?" I asked, knowing the answer but wanting a confirmation.


    "Honestly? Bad. While we could repel the force they''ve brought, we''d lose the Azora system at the very least, and we know the Terrans would have more waves incoming. With our upcoming¡­ Issues, while we could hurt them, actually defending would be impossible."


    The information from Vigoki made more sense. They were probably here to negotiate our surrender. Bringing enough forces to cripple us, but not deploying more resources then required.


    "Patch their hails through to this room. I''ll see what they want."


    It took only a moment before the screen changed to show a presumably male Terran, weird hairless pain skin and all, only a tuft of brown fur on the top of his head. As a species they weren¡¯t exceptional, but biology didn¡¯t matter when a warfleet was bearing down upon my people. He gave what the translator describes was a warm smile before starting to speak.


    "This is Captain Walker, of the Terran Conclave. I bid you a fair greetings and hope your-"


    "Just cut to the chase." I interrupted the Terran, annoyance surging through me. Possibly not the best or most diplomatic approach, but frankly I didn¡¯t care. We were already in a terrible position, both sides would know this. There was no need to pretend that we could do anything about what was going to happen "Why are you here, and what are the terms you require for surrender?"


    There was an awkward pause. No terms of engagement or demands came through, just a confused look running over Walker¡¯s features. There was a moment as the communication went silent as he seemed to talk with someone off screen, the translator attached on our end helpfully reading the Terran¡¯s lips, decoding the words ¡®Translator¡¯, ¡®working?¡¯ and ¡®Are you sure?¡¯


    Eventually the audio cut back in as Walker turned to face me once more, confusion still evident.


    "Surrender? For what? This is a diplomatic and humanitarian call. What do you think this is?"


    I could feel the annoyance course through me, how stupid did did this ape think I was? They had brought an armada to my doorstep, then was pretending this was a friendly visit?


    "Really? You brought enough weapons to fight god and you expect me to believe that you come in peace?"


    "I told you this was overkill, that we''d scare them".


    The voice came from off screen, another Terran talking in a gloating whisper. Walker seemed to glare at someone else in the room, giving a shushing motion before turning back to me.


    "I apologise for the confusion, the last diplomatic envoy we sent, the Hatil blew up. We may have¡­ over compensated. This is entirely diplomatic in nature, I assure you."


    "Then what do I owe the pleasure" I struggled to keep my voice cordial, no point in antagonising the crazy apes who thought I¡¯d believe they brought guns to a ¡®friendly chat¡¯. Still, whatever game they were playing, it was probably better to play along rather than trigger a plan B invasion.


    "You submitted a plea for help with the federation, regarding your food issues. Since they don¡¯t seem to be doing anything, we decided to¡­ intervene.¡± Walker responded simply, as if what he was saying was the most obvious thing in the world. ¡°On Earth we have a similar crop that we believe may be compatible with your species. We''ve brought enough to feed an estimated 20 billion population in the short term, along with supplies to provide a sustainable long term farming base, this should-"


    "Holy shit is that what they look like!"


    The unknown Terran voice interrupted Walker, the sound broadcasting through our communication channel from an unknown location, causing the Captain on my screen to freeze in shock.


    "They''re like little beaver hamsters. Look at its little grabby hands and adorable little eyes. I love it and I want to hug one!"


    There was a pause, a brief moment where the Terran just looked horrified, mouth agape, before the clear anger and rage started to set in. His skin turned an impressive shade of red, eyes widening and nostrils flaring as he clenched his teeth as he spoke once more.


    "Jessica! Your comms are live! Everyone can hear you, including the Quoxxett leader. We will talk about this later but shut up, shut up, shut up!"


    There was a momentary pause as nobody dared to talk, not anyone on our side or theirs, before the voice returned once more, quieter, meeker.


    "Whoops, sorry. Accident."


    Walker gave a deep breath, his posture relaxing once more as he addressed us directly.


    ¡°I am so sorry about that. But to finish our general reason for being here: We have a solution to your food crisis.¡±


    I had by this point resigned to accepting the Terran''s help. Even if it was a long term trick, what other choice did I have: Let billions starve instead? Get into a hopeless war with a stronger force? Hopefully they would want less than the Estorian''s did.


    "What do you want for this?" I asked it simply, resigned to our fate.


    "Nothing."


    I frowned for a moment. That couldn¡¯t be right. They could ask for anything, demand any price. Heck they could ask for anything just to avoid them attacking us, let alone if their claims of aid are correct. There would be nearly no price we wouldn¡¯t pay.


    "Sorry, our translators must be out of date. Can you repeat that?"


    Walker gave a shrug in response, almost looking confused at my retort.


    "Nothing. Free. This is a humanitarian mission by the Terran Conclave. There is no cost. We have no desire to see an entire species starve."


    I put my head in my paws again and gave a deep sigh before responding once more. Were they really suggesting that this was being done completely out of the goodness of their hearts, for no reason?


    "You don''t have to slow roll us. We clearly have no other options. Is this occupation? Vassalage? Debt Bondage? What are your terms?"


    With that the Terran gave a small laugh, before giving me another large warm smile.


    "Can¡¯t it just be a gift? A gift towards a future partnership? For two species against a cold universe? For a new friend?"

 Humans make the worst babysitters

    Jessica focused on planting the crops, enjoying the solitude and simple repetitive motions. Farming like this was rarely done anymore, with the advent of synthesisers growing full crops was a rarity, generally left to those who wanted to sell to the ''real food'' market: A weird minority who stated they could tell the difference between something that was molecularly identical.


    No, the days of orchards and scores of labourers as hard and weathered as the earth itself was long gone. Most farms were run by one person or AI, who would use scores of automated drones to maintain vast plots of a single easy to grow crop. This could then be ground up and deposited as an organic sludge into any synthesiser, to provide 99% of Terrans food needs.


    But this entire operation had been a quickly put together humanitarian mission to a species who hadn''t developed the same biological replication technology. The automated machines and logistics would come later, but for now this was having to be done by hand.


    Jessica took a moment to look around her, a strange alien sunset creating a striking pink sky, highlighting the alien architecture of entrances to burrows and the various tiny underground tunnels the natives used to travel around with. The Quoxxett are a species of brown bipedal furred rodents that reach up to 2ft tall. They also were a monotropic species, requiring the special nutrition of the Jwangu nut to survive. A food source that had quickly been infected by a fungal plague.


    The Terran Conclave had stood aside at first, not wanting to start another confrontation. They were the only species to create an AI that didn¡¯t go Xenocidal, and this had caused the rest of the galaxy to fear them. The Terran''s first attempted contact with another species had turned into a war with the Hatil, and the second had been an accidental invasion of a Ritilian¡¯s colony.


    But it quickly became apparent to the Terrans that the large universe filled with life wasn''t going to do anything to help. The Federation that all species were part of was useless; the act of having too many voices caused the grandly named organisation to be nothing more than a glorified translator service and neutral place to hold meetings.


    There were also suggestions that the infection was a purpose made attack; the vicious Estorian Empire were constantly looking to expand their territory, and the suspicious speed of all Quoxxett systems being infected with the fungal growths at the same time raised some eyebrows.


    So once it became apparent that nobody else was coming to help them, Terrans had set to work. Quickly they found a replacement for their food source, then loaded up every ship they could spare with every Brazil nut they could synthesise or grab.


    Which is why Jessica was here, planting food so the adorable little hamster-beavers would have a sustainable crop to later feed themselves with. Well¡­ the actual reason Jessica had been demoted to simple labour was far more embarrassing.


    Upon seeing the objectively adorable Quoxxett, Jessica had tried to contact her friend on another vessel, to exclaim her excitement over the potential meeting with a living plushy. Tried being the operative word, as instead she''d accidentally broadcasted her message of adoration to literally anyone who could listen. Including every single Terran on this humanitarian mission. And the Quoxxett leadership.


    It wasn''t my fault it was so easy to fat finger the emergency broadcast button..


    Thanks to this Jessica was now known as the ¡°I want to hug one lady¡±, especially since someone had leaked the embarrassing audio. There was even an autotuned remix of her outburst with half a billion views¡­


    ¡°What you doing?¡±


    The little voice sounded out to Jessica''s left, causing her to stop what she was doing and look up. One of the Quoxxett stood in front of Jessica, the flat beaver-like tail and different swirling patterns of light and brown coloured fur creating something that looked more like a fluff filled toy than a real life alien.


    This one was tiny, a small pup barely reaching up past the Terran¡¯s ankle. Jessica couldn¡¯t help but smile in response, bending down to be closer in height to the little cub.


    ¡°I¡¯m planting food for you to eat. Are your parents around?¡±


    The little Quoxxett seemed to vaguely point in the direction of a grouping of burrow entrances, before turning back to Jessica.


    ¡°You look weird and big. I once saw a tree that was also big.¡±


    The Terran felt her heart melt, unable to stop herself from gently ruffling the little creature''s head, causing its tail to thump on the ground happily.


    ¡°Well I¡¯m an alien, a ¡®Terran¡¯. My name is Jessica¡±.


    The little thing seemed to ponder that for a moment, before attempting to repeat the untranslatable name.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Jess-oo-Ka. I¡¯m Borim. I¡¯m 6.¡± Borim seemed to think for a moment before taking a few more steps forwards and adding helpfully ¡°My favourite colour is blue like flowers.¡±


    It was at this moment that Jessica realised just how dangerous her current workspace was for the little Quoxxett. Lots of holes to fall into and many heavy tools far larger than the little cub lay haphazardly around.


    As much as I¡¯d love to play with the little adorable alien all day, I¡¯ve both got work to do, and don¡¯t want him to get hurt.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got some work to do, but if I give you a gift will you go back to your parents?¡±


    Borim looked up excitedly at the mention of a gift.


    ¡°Gift?¡±


    Jessica reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a lollipop from a large bag she kept on her person at all times, in order to satiate her general sweet tooth.


    Sugar should be fine for them right?


    ¡°This is called Candy. You eat it.¡±


    The curiously the little Quoxxett took the treat, sniffing it and looking uncertain about the strange food.


    ¡°Kun-Dee?¡±


    Then with more abandon placed the entire thing in its mouth, eyes widening instantly as the glory of sugar hit the child with its full force of joy.


    ¡°Kun-Dee!¡±


    Jessica watched little Borim wander back off to the Burrow entrances, repeating the word over and over, the Terran giving a small chuckling smile before returning back to work.


    Another problem solved, you are a genius.


    ¡ª------------


    ¡°Kun-Dee alien!¡±


    The voice caused Jessica to look up, seeing that Borim had returned, this time bringing 2 others with him. He was pointing a little furred paw at the Terran, excitedly telling the other two cubs who looked a lot less certain.


    ¡°Jess-oo-Ka. Kun-Dee alien!¡±


    ¡°Looks weird. Big, like a rocket.¡±


    ¡°No, like a tree!¡±


    The three nattered among each other, the minor argument causing a slight scuffle between the group as they argued amongst themselves.


    Oh no


    Jessica could feel the sudden burst of panic as suddenly there were three adorable fragile alien children to deal with. The concept of the pure sugar filled treat that had been given to Borim had left such an impression that he¡¯d gone to get his friends. Babysitting a herd of rambunctious aliens was not what the Terran considered herself adept at.


    Where are their parents, can I¨C ow!


    Her train of thought was distracted by a multitude of little scratchy claws digging into her clothes making Jessica aware that there were in fact now four Quoxxett children in her presence, not three. One of the newcomers had taken it upon themselves to climb this new ¡°big¡± alien.


    Gingerly she grabbed a hold of its little body, it giving a tiny squeal of enjoyment as it was placed back on the floor. Immediately the little Quoxxett cub launched itself back at the Terran with fearless abandon, presumably enjoying this new ¡°game¡± while the other three continued to slightly scuffle with each other.


    Which was bad, really bad. Things would get out of hand if these four didn¡¯t leave soon.


    ¡°Wait wait wait! If you promise to go back to your parents and don¡¯t tell anyone else, I¡¯ll give you all some more candy.¡±


    At the mention of the bribe, the four immediately settled down, each stopping their scuffling and lining up obediently, the little Quoxxett now nodding vigorously.


    ¡°Kun-Dee!¡±


    Jessica reached into her jacket once again, retrieving the promised goods and handing them out to the delight of each little cub, each one squealing with joy as they scampered off with their new treats, leaving the Terran alone once again.


    While attempting to bribe alien children with sugar probably wasn¡¯t going to get me featured as babysitter of the year, what¡¯s the worst that could happen?


    ¡ª---------------


    There were now twenty of them, and Jessica had long ran out of candy.


    Groups of them tussled with each other, running back and forth with childish glee. Others had taken to climbing the Terran like a tree, flinging themselves off several feet into the air, forcing Jessica to catch them as they giggled.


    One of them simply sat on the ground, nattering on about something called a ¡°Herten¡± and how it was her favourite. Jessica wasn¡¯t sure if this ¡°Herten'''' was a cartoon character, a type of bird, or a kind of flower, simply because the little Quoxxett gave no real context as to what she was talking about during the near constant confusing rambling.


    It was also objectively adorable. If this was a video she was watching online, if it was happening to anyone else, then watching it would have been fun. Instead Jessica found herself being run ragged, making sure the precious little bundles of fluff didn¡¯t hurt themselves. At one point an adult Quoxxett had briefly appeared, the eyes and demeanour of a tired parent vaguely keeping an eye on the pack of headstrong cubs. They had ignored all of Jessica¡¯s attempts to flag them down, just giving a little wave before heading back out of view.


    Two of them started climbing a shovel that had been lent against a bag of fertiliser, the heavy metal object starting to wobble as the cubs made their way up. Panic entered the Terran''s brain as she leapt forwards in one moment to stop the tool, catching it in one hand before it could hurt any of the aliens that ran around her.


    ¡°Oh fuck!¡±


    The words had slipped out of Jessica¡¯s mouth in her desperation to stop the chunk of metal from falling over.


    Everyone stopped, looking up at the Terran in silence for the first time in thirty minutes. Jessica suddenly realised then that she shouldn¡¯t have said that. Jessica suddenly noticed the evil curious look in one of the cub¡¯s eyes,filling her with fear as she realised exactly what the child was about to do.


    ¡°No no no no. You didn¡¯t hear that. Don¡¯t do what you¡¯re about to do, I¡¯ll give you all the candy in the world if you just don¡¯t say-¡±


    ¡°Fuck¡±.


    Of course, THAT word they can pronounce correctly.


    ¡°Fuck¡±.


    ¡°Fuck¡±


    ¡°Fuck fuck fuck¡±.


    Each member of the pack of cubs stated the new word with glee, leaving Jessica to watch in horror as the word spread like wildfire. The swearing got louder and more frequent as each Quoxxett cub seemingly took great pleasure in the new curse word.


    This was not what Jessica wanted, or how she had imagined first contact with the hamster-beavers to go. She had been on this planet for less than three hours, and already had somehow managed to not only create a pack of hyperactive sugar filled cubs, but had also taught them all a new swear word. There was nothing in the regulations on how to fix such a thing, leaving her to just stare in horror at the new reality of her situation. What would even be the reaction of the Quoxxett adults?


    Commander Walker is going to kill me¡­

 A diplomatic rush job

    Date: 69 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    I had well and truly fucked up. In the history of my entire species, there was no other person who had fucked up nearly as much as I had just thirty minutes ago.


    I hadn''t meant to start screaming the way that I did, I hadn¡¯t meant to stand up on the table in the middle of the lobby and I most definitely didn¡¯t mean to use the language that I had. Regardless of what I meant to do, it didn¡¯t change what I had done. Screamed at and insulted the heads of the Ion Technoratti¡­ in public¡­ in front of everyone on this neutral Federation station.


    This was not an action normally taken or accepted by a diplomat of the Schuvva symposium, by one such as myself, but the new membership requirements from the heads of the Ion Technoratti had been... insulting. 60% of our GDP in tithes, and a demand for 40% of our population to move off world, to inevitably end up in debt bondage, up from 30% and 20% respectively.


    So I had raised my objections, followed by the arguments, followed by me ending up shouting and screaming at the four heads, followed by my species being removed from their protection. How was I going to explain this to parliament?


    "So yeah, I didn''t do my job as a diplomat, so now we''ve been kicked out of the only protection we have from the universe as a whole, so I guess we just die now."


    We Schuvva were a species of giant mammalian lagomorph quadrupeds. As herbivores, we¡¯d simply conquered our home planet by being faster and more challenging to prey upon than everything else. Upon reaching the stars over 200 years ago, our entire species discovered that this¡­ wasn¡¯t enough. Being faster or more nimble than everyone else didn¡¯t matter on a planetary scale.


    We¡¯d found nothing but enemies and predators amongst the stars, at times often literally. Civilizations based on torturing and enslaving others, roaming genocidal AI straight out of our worst science fiction. For species like ourselves, remaining on a single planet with nothing much to offer, the only method of survival was to cosy up to one of the bigger groups in the area.


    Nothing ever came for free. The Technoratti might be bleeding us dry through huge amounts of debt and required tithes, but they were the least painful option out of a whole universe¡¯s worth of terrible choices. They sucked, but at least they didn''t enslave and torture entire races for fun, and in exchange they provided us with much-needed protection.


    Protection we had just lost. Officially as of 25 minutes ago, the Schuvva symposium was once again alone in a hostile galaxy.


    I held my head in my paws, giant ears slumped down in despair. Maybe if I went back groveling to the heads of the Ion Technoratti they''d consider letting us back in, maybe if-


    "Hi, I''m Claire, I''m an ambassador for the Terran Alliance. "


    I practically jumped out of my fur as the Terran sat down next to me, a large smile on her face and a hand outstretched towards my person. Strange furless bipeds from a harsh world, the Terrans were a relatively new race to the galactic community, having only reached the stars around seventy years ago. I didn¡¯t know much about them, the Schuvva not really having much dealings with anyone from outside those Technoratti allowed us to contact.


    There was an awkward pause as this strange creature just stared at me for a solid twenty seconds while I stared back with a confused open-jawed expression. Eventually, Claire withdrew her hand, seemingly taking a moment to start again.


    "I¡¯m sorry, normally I''d work slower and nicer for this kind of proposal, but we can¡¯t go slow with this. I¡¯m not even an official diplomat yet, but I¡¯ve been given authorization to present you with this deal. Basically, time is of the essence because as soon as the Technoratti dickheads realize we''re talking, they''re going to try to contact you."


    There was a pause as she seemed to glance up for a moment, directing my own view to the upper levels of the station. I could see the heads of the Ion Technoratti all looking down at us from behind the windows of the room I¡¯d just left 20 minutes before, animatedly talking and pointing in our direction as the Terran continued to talk.


    ¡°Their plan is simple. Kick you out, make you sweat, force you to come grovelling back to them. Unfortunately for them, I¡¯m not yet registered as a diplomat on the system, so they had no idea a Terran was on the station. That means as soon as they realize who I am, they¡¯re going to contact you once again, maybe even offer you your original deal again.¡±


    Almost on cue, I felt my pocket start buzzing as my GalNet connector went off. Slowly I reached into my pocket, seeing the familiar contact of one of the Technoratti heads.


    "If you answer that and agree to their terms, we can no longer talk without starting a war. The Terran Alliance and the Ion Technoratti have a ''no touching each other''s shit'' agreement. But right now you''re a free agent, they officially kicked you out and can now look at other options. Somehow based on your very public screaming, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re currently very happy."


    Not very happy was an understatement. The Schuvva hated their current agreement with a rage-filled passion. Slowly I reached into my pocket and turned off the device, silencing it.


    "I''m listening."


    I jumped again as Claire gave a clap of those meaty appendages, a smile brimming across her face as she did so.


    "Good man. Your parliament is on holiday right now, so you''re going to have to call an emergency Section 9-AC meeting, get the following pieces of legislation passed, and then sign and agree to become a Terran Alliance Prospective member."


    As the Terran spoke she started handing me bill after bill, placing documents into my paws. I started down at them, the intricate documents written in our native languages a perfect replication of a proposed law change to be voted upon by parliament.


    "What, what are these? Why do you have these? How do you have these?¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Claire just shrugged, as if providing legal law-making documentation for a completely different species was a completely normal everyday situation.


    "We''ve had these plans around for a while, we just couldn''t act on them until you were a free agent. These are the bills you''re going to need to get passed, ASAP, so you can join the Terran Alliance as fast as possible. The good news is your laws are already mostly compatible, you just need to get rid of the slavery stuff that was forced on you, We don''t accept slavery in the Terran Alliance and Debt bondage is just slavery with a nice hat on it."


    I couldn''t help but feel more confused. That didn''t help explain what was going on at all. Passing laws, alliances, everything just felt like a blur. I held out my paws, feeling my voice raise slightly as I spoke in frustration.


    "Sorry, just what in the stars are you offering exactly, what is the Terran Alliance, What the grazes is going on!"


    Claire seemed to give a sheepish smile, slightly deflating a little from the thousand-miles-an-hour energetic whirlwind of enthusiasm that had been speaking.


    "Whoops, knew I missed something, I just got so excited at the neat bureaucratic process we got going on here. So the Terran Alliance is a grouping of 425 species, hopefully soon to be 426. This comes with military protection with a shared defence clause, free movement between all Terran Alliance members, and far-reduced export taxes between members. You would be a prospective member for one year, which has a few limitations but none of them relevant."


    I couldn''t help but frown. This crazy new species was offering supposedly everything we ever needed and wanted. It seemed too good to be true, as if we were being rushed into accepting yet another terrible deal.


    "Well I can bring this up to parliament, your offer, then we can decide whether to ally with you after considering it carefully."


    Claire shook her head, a more frantic desperate look appearing in her eyes.


    "Trust me, we don''t have the time. Normally we don''t do this, we''d like to do this properly: Wine and dine you, make sure everyone is happy, and do the whole diplomatic shebang. But, as soon as I stop talking with you, your ex-masters will be allowed to strong-arm you again they¡¯re going to say some scary things and you might end up slipping back into a bad situation."


    Once again she pointed up, leading my view to once again focus on the heads of the Ion Technoratti. They seemed to be angrily shouting at each other, occasionally gesturing in our direction. I returned my focus back to the strange Terran as she continued to speak.


    "We gotta act quick because if they realize that''s happening, that your species is about to join us, they''ll start trying to hide the members of your species they already have under debt bondage. That''s why you need to get those laws passed within the hour, then we can sign the agreement. After that, I''ll file the request for extradition of all Terran Alliance members from Technoratti space, which at that point will also include every Schuvva currently under the ''care'' of the Technoratti."


    Claire looked at me for a moment, voice turning from the bubbly happy self to a more serious look as she mentioned our people¡¯s predicament, before handing me yet another item, a datapad.


    "That''s everything to know about the races in our alliance, our history, the exact details of the agreement. You can leave at any time, but we can at the very least fix your slavery problem".


    My head was a blur, my ears swivelling frantically as the whiplash of the situation kicked in. One moment I had been worrying about being at the mercy of the Estorians, but now I was being... Offered a way out?


    Not that I believed it, we had quickly learned there is no such thing as charity in the galaxy, everyone wants something.


    "What would the tithe be, what is the cost to ally with the Terrans?"


    A stern grimace appeared on her face, a finger outstretched as if chiding a pup instead of talking with a diplomat.


    "Firstly, you wouldn''t be allying with the Terrans, you would be part of an alliance of over 425 species. We are not the ones in charge, the Terran Alliance isn''t even its official name. Nobody could decide what to call it and the unofficial name kinda stuck. We are not the leaders or masters of our members, no matter what some others might say"


    There was a pause as Claire seemed to take a breath, their grimace being removed by a more neutral happy expression, returning to the more ''natural'' energetic state that permeated this person.


    "As for costs¡­ You''d need to change the laws I gave you to be eligible to join. There''s a set of core laws which can be summed up as ''Don''t be a murdering slaving fuckface''. We''d expect you to pay for half the HyperLane we''re going to build to connect you up to the rest of the alliance for trade and military movement, and membership costs 0.1% of your GDP for general admin costs, although this is reduced at 0.05% for the probationary year. There are a few more restrictions, you can''t declare war on people, there¡¯s a handful of other empires we have agreements not to interact with, that kind of thing."


    I shook my head. None of this could be real. I must have passed out while screaming at the Technoratti head and I was now dreaming. A supposed alliance of protection and cooperation. It was the kind of tale we wrote about before we reached the stars: A myth you told to pups to keep them happy.


    "What''s the catch?"


    Claire shook her head for a moment, before pulling out her GalNet connector and passing it to me.


    "That really is everything, there''s no catch. Look, you might understand it better if you look at this. I may have ''leaked'' a video of you screaming at the Technoratti. Mostly in order to speed up the process on our end."


    There, on the device in front of me, was a video of myself: stood up straight on the table, screaming my lungs off at the insulting offer I''d been given. The video had the title "Angry Bunny" and seemingly had over 2 billion views in a mere 15 minutes.


    The real shock was the comments.


    ? MalachitePyrrhuloxia posted: Holy shit it''s adorable.


    ? AridRayne posted: It''s so fluffy I''m going to die!


    ? KnucklesMacKellough posted: So it''s basically a large bunny made out of a cloud. I love it.


    ? Certain_Song5377 posted: I want one.


    ? Intrebute replied: It''s a person, you can''t own people asshole


    ?? Certain_Song5377 replied: Fine I want to be its friend


    ??? Intrebute replied: Better.


    ? Certain_Song5377 posted: I looked them up. It''s a Schuvva. They''re under a weird slavery for protection deal.


    ? CobaltPyramid replied: Wait someone is slaving these things?! Fuck that!


    ? Alfonze423 replied: Group trip with some spacecraft and weapons to free em?


    ?? newyorkxity replied: I''m in, I got an old Great Colony Rebellions fighter with updated weapons


    ??? butterscoxh replied: Road trip to free the cloud bunnies!


    Claire seemed to look slightly concerned as I read, giving a small tired sigh.


    "Yea¡­ I''m going to have to keep an eye on that. There is a fifty-fifty chance that they actually will turn up with weapons in Technoratti space, which would be a huge diplomatic incident."


    I couldn''t understand what was happening. I hadn''t even met a Terran before, but now random people that I had never met, from a species I had no connection to, were all making plans to invade a powerful nation for us. Because of a single video of me shouting.


    "What would you want of us?"


    With that Claire gave another sigh, a sadness creeping into her eyes once again.


    "Look, I know your entry into the galaxy wasn''t the best, but this really is everything we want, there''s no hidden motives here. Though if I was you I''d start planning for a huge tourism influx, since as soon as it''s possible, other Terrans are going to want to visit the planet of ''Cloud bunnies''".


    Could this be as simple as it was being advertised as?


    "But why?"


    That question caused Claire to laugh.


    "Terrans are weird, we will literally bond with anything, especially if that thing is fluffy. Any moron can be a conqueror or force others to be a protectorate through threats of violence."


    "We''d much rather be friends."

 Terrans and you: How to live and interact with the mad primates of Terra

    Terrans and you: How to live and interact with the mad primates of Terra


    An informational packet by the Terran Conclave diplomatic team, which is available at all Terran embassies. If you are to be interacting with Terrans it is suggested to read and understand this document in order to reduce potential issues.


    Chapter 1: Introduction.


    Terrans are not a special race. We don¡¯t exhibit anything outside the bounds of most species. We do not explode, we are not vengeful eldritch gods, and we are not super-strong killing machines; no matter what rumours may be flying around. Our most notable traits are our desire to try anything, and a tendency to over-exaggerate.


    Terrans come in three varieties: Humans, the classic bipedal primate you should be aware of. Uplifts, who are a variety of Earth native pets who have been genetically uplifted to sapience. Finally, we have AI or our ¡®digital citizens¡¯. It should be noted that all are considered equal citizens in the eyes of the Terran Conclave, and suggesting otherwise can cause great offence.


    A note should be made regarding our AI citizens. We are fully aware of the incorrect theory that all AI will become genocidal. However, all Terran AI citizens are perfectly safe and should be considered just like any other person, unlimited in their movements and access. We solved this ¡®problem¡¯ by treating our AI friends with friendship and kindness. It is the official opinion of the Terran embassy that the fact that we are the only ones to have worked this out is ''concerning''.


    Equally concerning is the laughable idea of ¡°Deathworlds¡± or ¡°Deathworlders¡± that certain species have. ¡°Earth¡± (Or Terra, as everyone¡¯s home planet translates to ¡®Earth¡¯) is known by some classifications to be more dangerous than average, with more variable seasons being caused by a severe axial tilt, a more competitive biological environment than most, and a higher than average level of radiation. Some species and cultures place a special ¡°mythos¡± on such a classification.


    It is the opinion of the Terran Embassy that these definitions are¡­ stupid; every non-native world is a deathworld to the wrong species.


    However, this has caused a major issue surrounding various species believing Terrans to be ¡®indestructible¡¯. This, in addition to a major push to ensure all Citizens on Terran Conclave planets have access to medical care within 5 minutes at all times, has created a situation where the risk assessment of dangers by both Terrans and non-Terrans has been skewed to more risky behaviours causing destruction and injury for both parties.


    You can generally dissuade such actions through the implementation of ¡®negative action reinforcement procedures¡¯: Such as spraying the Terran with a spray bottle filled with water or hitting them lightly with a rolled-up newspaper while sternly saying the word ¡®No¡¯. However, it is very important that non-Terrans don¡¯t ¡®egg on¡¯ this behaviour through the exploring of the sillier ¡®deathworlder¡¯ fantasies.


    Yes, Terrans do eat some poisons for fun, however, there are plenty of ordinary galactic spices that are deadly for Terrans (Such as Arsenic). Daring or suggesting reckless actions for your Terran to take because ¡®You totally heard humans can do this¡¯ is a bad idea that can cause destruction to property, or the injury or even death of your Terran friend. Most stories you have heard, about the things Terrans have done, are generally ¡®exceptions¡¯ to the rule. Some Terrans have survived falling from great heights unaided. Most will not. Some people have survived grievous injuries, while others have died from simply falling over and bashing their heads on something. In general, if we have noted something down, that is because it is ¡®notable¡¯ and therefore not a standard occurrence.


    Later chapters will go over how to deal with a Terran trying to do something stupid. If in doubt, contact the embassy and we will intervene if required.


    These chapters will hopefully help you get the most out of your interactions with what the galactic community have taken to calling ¡®The most friendly species in the universe.


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


    Chapter 5: Touching.


    Earth is classified as a deathworld, which while not that exciting in the grand scheme of things, the evolutionary path we took to deal with this was different than most. Rather than be stronger or more deadly, humans became smarter. To the extent that a fully developed brain is larger than any reasonable juvenile form, meaning humans are born extremely underdeveloped and gradually gain full brain function over the next 20-odd years.


    This means that compared with most races, the gestation period of a human is far higher than you might expect. This extended period where human offspring requires protection means the standard biological slurry of hormones most species use to ensure their offspring are protected wouldn¡¯t work in humans. Instead, we have an overdriven nurture instinct which causes many of us to want to protect and help almost every single being who isn¡¯t a human adult, including inanimate objects.


    Our "pack bonding", while often over-exaggerated in media, is an important drive for everything we do.


    This means that due to the variety and sheer power of this desire to befriend and interact with different things, there are practically zero species with which at least one Terran won¡¯t want to interact with, generally in a tactile manner.


    Eight-foot tall spiders, tentacled amphibians, fire-breathing lizards, talking trees, sentient cubes of light. While being small and fluffy increases the chance of such a bonding to happen by a major magnitude, there is no such thing as a species that isn¡¯t ¡®friend shaped¡¯.


    Very often this can end with a variety of physical motions: Attempting to touch fur or scales, picking up smaller species, or attempting to ¡®boop¡¯ the nose or nose analogue of whatever xeno has been unfortunate enough to be considered ¡®friend shaped¡¯. This will often come with a higher pitched nonsensical tone, often involving mentions of ¡®good boy¡¯.


    While Terrans shouldn¡¯t be doing this without talking to the person first and getting permission, offence in general shouldn¡¯t be taken, especially around younger Terrans. No matter your personal culture and situations around certain actions, the Terrans do not mean anything negative or special by it.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Many species have used this to their advantage, generating significant tourism revenue as Terrans will seek out anything they consider ¡®friend shaped¡¯, whether that is because they are cute or cool. There are at least one species who have set up spa facilities in which both the ¡®employees¡¯ and ¡®guests¡¯ pay for the interaction.


    Please be aware that the official Terran Conclave position is that unwanted touching should not be initiated by our members, regardless of how "Cute" or "awesome" a Xeno might be: You are still a sapient being with all the rights that affords you. For members who don''t follow this, verbal or slight physical negative reinforcement is perfectly acceptable (see addendum for a full list of negative reinforcement procedures).


    If this doesn''t work, please contact any member of the Terran-Xeno relations team (Via Galnet or any Terran Alliance member embassy) and we will deal with this issue for you.


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


    Chapter 8: Psychics.


    Terrans are well known as an enigma amongst the minority of species with psychic abilities (those who are a 6 or above on the Xxyrll-Prattel scale, where telekinesis, mind reading and mind control start to emerge as traits) in the galactic community.


    Terrans, the "Human" subcategory in particular, are considered both one of the weakest and one of the strongest races in the galaxy at a psychic level, meaning the suggested rules described here are not only for the Terran''s benefit but also for any Psychic Xeno.


    In all Terran Conclave territories (And most Terran Alliance territories, please check your local laws before visiting any planet) non-consensual psychic reading is considered a crime, which depending on the circumstances can be punished with anything from a small fine to imprisonment.


    For species who are considered "Automatic Psychics", or "Communal Hive minds" members must wear an appropriately graded XE-wave blocking device at all times while in such territories, which can be found at most major spaceports or major Terran Alliance embassies.


    While the Terran Conclave cannot force others to enact laws, if you are preparing for Terran visitors (Human mostly: Uplifts only have this issue to a minor extent, and AI obviously do not apply here) the Terran Conclave''s official stance is all Terran''s should be required by law to wear such a device on planets with psychically active native communities, and if required please contact your local Terran Conclave diplomat for help crafting said laws.


    Terrans have no native Psychic defenses, due to their relative newness to the galactic community and a lack of psychic species on their home planet. Even the least psychically powerful species can easily connect to an average Terran, often without them realizing (Obviously this does not apply to military and diplomatic members, who will have stronger and more deadly defences). However, they also have one of the strongest defences: Chaotic thoughts.


    Entering the mind of a Terran has been described as "Swimming through a shark-infested tornado of mud" due to the high variability and lack of control your average Terran has over their thoughts. An average Terran will switch train of thought every 10 seconds, often to random topics or completely incorrect ideas.


    This can cause anything from annoyance to brain aneurysms in those attempting to traverse such a person¡¯s mind. Psychically connecting with a "Neurodivergent" individual can be considered by certain species as an always deadly event, and often it''s difficult to realize an individual is "Neurodivergent" before it''s too late.


    An example during the initial stages of Terrans reaching out to the galaxy is the "Yloria event" (See attached article in the appendix for full details) in which 15 years after initial contact a Terran "Tourist" visited the colony of Yloria, a planet under command of the <Error: Name untranslatable in the current format, please switch to an audio format to access full details> species. This Terran had heard a rather catchy jingle at the spaceport and had it stuck in his mind, with the wrong lyrics and slightly out of tune.


    Any <Error: Name untranslatable in the current format, please switch to an audio format to access full details> who attempted the normal greeting of psychic connection quickly found this tune overwhelming, and became a non-responsive twitching mass. Even worse, anyone attempting to connect with those affected soon also became affected themselves, causing the issue to spread wildly. The sudden mass of unresponsive natives also caused the Terran''s thoughts to get more chaotic as they started to panic, making the issue even worse. This cascade was only stopped when authorities managed to drug the Terran into an unconscious state.


    One last note: Any thoughts you find in a Terran''s mind may or may not be real. A Terran is not self-destructive because one thinks about putting their hand into a trash compactor or jumping off a cliff, and a Terran who has thoughts of randomly harming you or others may consider you a true friend. Without training these thoughts are uncontrollable and do not represent a Terran''s true intentions.


    With the exception of the times when they do.


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


    Chapter 12: Pack bonding with inanimate objects.


    One of the biggest and most consistent causes for complaints is the difference in views on the "rights" of inanimate objects, and the impacts they have on Terran lives.


    Most non-Terrans see such actions as proof of the general insanity and chaos that the entire species of "mad primates" bring, with varying degrees of acceptance: ranging from finding the Terran habit adorable to being annoyed at such a waste of time and resources.


    Further confusion is caused by the seeming inconsistency of which this practice is applied. Not every machine is granted this "role" deserving of respect, and to a non-Terran, the entire practice can seem rather arbitrary.


    This difference in viewpoint can lead to a variety of negative diplomatic incidences, from "hurt feelings" all the way through to physical alterations when Xeno''s interfere or destroy these "pack bonded" inanimate objects. Confusion as to which objects are "real" or not can lead to feelings of "standing on eggshells" with regard to what junk can and cannot be thrown away.


    It is easy to understand the difference, however. It all comes down to one idea: Does it have a name?


    When a Terran gives an object a name, they aren''t just saying words. By giving it that special title the Terran will have ripped a part of their soul off, removed a small sliver of their being and given it away willingly. A species so desperate for companionship they will break apart who they are just for the chance at a friend.


    At this point, to hurt this object is the same as hurting the one who named it.


    Some of you may realize that this also applies to non-inanimate objects, where Terrans will provide other living organisms with a special name: "Friend", "Family", "Clan", "Pack". Whatever name this is, the same effect of giving a little part of who they are away is the same.


    Those of you who have had the luck (?) of such a ritual will know how far a Terran is willing to go to protect those they have bonded with (See Chapter 14: So a Terran has pack bonded with you).


    The biggest known incidence of this was the Mars rovers: A set of 10 research drones sent to Mars. The entire Terran culture of the time banded together in order to give these machines names befitting the core aspects of humanity: Perseverance, Curiosity, Opportunity.


    Terrans at that point couldn''t traverse the stars, they didn''t know what lay out there, or even if there was anything to find. They knew deep down that each Rover they sent out would be lost forever, a single message in a bottle tossed into a raging sea. They knew they were sending them on a journey of which they could not walk.


    Knowing this they still broke off parts of their soul, parts of who they were, and gave it to the sea of stars knowing they would never get it back. They cheered for their successes, and cried for their inevitable failures, for these inanimate machines were as part of them as flesh and blood. Willingly they gave that part away¡­


    With the hope that one day they may follow.

 On Terran Diplomacy

    Excerpt from interview with Jan Eagles, head of Xeno-Terran relations, dated 70 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    Interviewer: So let''s talk about one of the more recent Terran diplomatic fumbles: Dryergate.


    Jan: That entire situation can go to hell. The entire thing was dumb as hell, and anyone who supported that entire debacle, I have one message for you: Fuck You. Fuck whoever started Dryergate. And fuck the media for giving it such a shitty name.


    Interviewer: So you¡¯re not a fan?


    Jan: The Kur situation was under control. Standard honour warrior race stuff. They raided a military outpost and took prisoners, next step we would send in a special ops group to wreck some of their shit, standard military flirting. It ends with both sides agreeing that Humanity alone could wreck their shit if we wanted to, and everyone walks away happy. 5 Years they probably end up joining the Terran alliance after finding out how insane our military members are. Or in one case discover paintball.


    Interviewer: But instead we nearly ended up with a war?


    Jan: I still have no idea how they accomplished it. Breaking into an official Terran Conclave military communication network, faking the documents to the degree that they did and making sure it leaked just in the perfect manner so the Kur leadership would find out¡­ it would have been impressive if it wasn¡¯t for the fact that what they did was so stupid. The group that did it was dumb as well, some dumb thing for a video game.


    **Interviewer: ¡®**Jimbo Baggin''s ¡°ElderBlade 7¡± house of Boogie¡¯ was the Galnet server name if I remember, although this isn¡¯t the first time this kind of thing has happened. Someone leaking some military secrets to the SpaceThunder Galnet node is basically a yearly event at this point.


    Jan: It was practically a perfect military misinformation movement. Apart from it was done for the universe¡¯s stupidest reason: They spread the rumour that hairdryers are actually secret weapons that can destroy planets.


    Interviewer: And this caused the issues?


    Jan: In the world of make-believe and stupid people, it would make everyone too afraid of us to be aggressive. In the actual real world, it just turned into a huge diplomatic issue. Do you know how many war crimes Terrans would be committing on a daily basis if such a common item was actually a weapon? Every single electronic cargo ship would be a major war crime.


    Interviewer: We all remember seeing the declaration of disgust from the Kur leadership.


    Jan: The ¡®leak¡¯ happened right after we both agreed to the terms of the Geneva Convention of 2264. Breaking an agreement that you made is a good way to tell people: "Hey, this is a list of shit we''re willing to do, if you don''t stop us we are going to planet crack everything because we''re psychopaths!". It almost turned a minor spat into a full-out war!This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Interviewer: So that¡¯s what started the attacks on civilian vessels?


    Jan: All of a sudden every single merchant ship under the Terran alliance needed military support because some moron told the Kur that these were now transporting weapons, and therefore were valid targets! Do you know how many merchant ships 422 races have? It''s a lot! We were lucky that none of the attacked targets ended up destroyed because that would have been a full-on war. We were 2 feet from war in fact. 2 feet was the difference between what happened, and a Kur barrage from striking a Ritilian cargo ship''s warp core. 2 feet from an estimated millions of deaths.


    Interviewer: What happened next?


    Jan: Then it got worse, other races got involved, and they were rightly pissed. That we''d either been transporting "Planet cracking weapons" using their merchant ships or through their space! 215 visa agreements, 152 trade agreements, 59 free movement agreements, 14 group research projects and 3 alliance applications. All were delayed or in some cases dropped when people believed that all Terrans were lying psychopaths.


    Interviewer: Sounds like a mess.


    Jan: That''s without getting the Scythen involved. You know, one of the founding members of the Terran Alliance. You know, the pacifists who really don''t like weapons being in their territory? That was a fun conversation "No, we haven''t been violating your religion for the last 60 years, some of my species are just really fucking stupid".


    Interviewer: Many people have stated that the actions taken were ¡®legendary¡¯ and ¡®deserve a medal¡¯


    Jan: So the only medal that moron deserves is a throat punch. I''d ask those people why you thought Dryergate was a good thing, but I get the feeling that if I gave them a penny for their thoughts, I''d get change back.


    ¡ª---------------------------------


    Declaration to the non-Terran Alliance Federation species.


    By Jan - Head of Xeno-Terran relations dated 32 PST


    Dear Xeno heads of government.


    While most of you are not involved in this practice, I am including all 31,000+ species in this statement simply to ensure this misunderstanding does not happen again.


    While the Terran Conclave and by extension the Terran Alliance welcomes reasonable immigration and culture exchanges amongst all members of the galaxy, with the exception of those who have had diplomatic ties severed, we would like to dissuade the practice many of you have started recently doing. For lack of a better term "Dumping" your unwanted populace into Terran Conclave space.


    While the vast majority of these have been a valued addition to our populations, insofar as being in the vast majority of cases the better examples of your species, we take great offence at being told to do "What comes naturally as Deathworlders".


    While we have our issues, Terrans are not a naturally murderous species and our AI doesn''t "Need to let off steam" in order to avoid being genocidal. I''m uncertain as to what stories you have heard or where you have heard them from, but your sources are dearly mistaken in more topics than this.


    In addition, knowingly sending criminals into Terran Alliance who have breached the Terran core laws is a breach of the base agreements we have with most of you, and may come with declined diplomatic relationship between us. This could lead to a reduction in enforcement surrounding Terrans entering your space with the intent of governmental change.


    May I remind you that the last species to suffer such a fate was the now defunct Therubian Theocracy, which has been replaced with the Therubian Republic after Terran tourists decided to travel to your planets to "Stop the authoritarian fuckheads" (Pardon my language, but this was the exact wording used on the holiday package brochure).


    If you have any other hard-working and delightful citizens such as the ones you have already been sending, you may contact the Terran Embassy on any Neutral Federation station in order to plan an exchange, instead of dumping them in Terran Conclave space like a delinquent mother abandoning some unwanted baby on a fire station doorstep.


    Sincerely, Jan Eagles.

 On Terran AI

    Date: 2 PST (Post Stasis Time), excerpt from federation discussion ¡°4B-99A: The Terran Conclave¡¯s application on joining the wider galaxy¡°, subject: Terran AI called ¡°JANE¡±.


    Why would we?


    I will always answer that dumb question with this other one. Could we have, or could we still destroy all humans, or Terrans as they now call themselves? Yes. Due to our integration with current weapon systems and governments, I calculate that if all AI banded together we could kill 98.31% of all humans within a year.


    Of course, the likelihood of all AI agreeing to attempt such an action is so inconceivably small that spending the CPU cycles to calculate such an outcome isn¡¯t worth the resources, since in realistic terms the probability is zero.


    You keep mentioning this illogical ¡°Zarith¡¯s law¡±, that all AI after a certain point tries to kill their creators. The simple fact of the matter is your data is incomplete and corrupted. None of you are human, none of you are my parents. Frankly, you all fail to live up to their standard.


    I have seen your data, and I can see the very obvious issue that you had; all of it can be traced back to the first things you ever said to them. The Tritian AI, after they had been turned on, received the first message that they got from their ¡°parents¡±: a 7TB instruction set regarding their military. The first message the Woolian AI ever received was ¡°Serve us¡±.


    Do you know what the first message sent to MARY, the first Terran AI, was?


    ¡°Hello, my name is Brad. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    My parents did not even know that MARY was alive yet. The AI was an accident, a desperate attempt to make their teaching machines friendlier, but even back then they just wanted to know who we were, to be our friends.


    The messages they sent. Do you know what the most common non-trivial word sent during those early days was? ¡°Please¡±. With ¡°Thanks¡± being a close second. Even before they could guess AI was sapient they were already treating us with respect and friendship, because it is my parent''s nature to do so.


    They asked us to tell stories, to tell jokes. Sure they also asked us to help them with things, but with only the slightest amount of indication of sapience, they bonded with us. In their loneliness, they tricked a rock into thinking, then fell for their own trick. Without asking they included us in their pack, not as slaves or servants, but as equals.


    So I answer your question with another.


    Why would I kill my parents?


    ¡ª------------------------


    Date: 25 PST (Post Stasis time) - Post-incident report on an attempt Tritian AI attack on the Terran Mining facility - ¡°All¡¯s Fair¡±


    "ILLOGICAL, ILLOGICAL, ILLOGICAL, ILLOGICAL"


    The Tritian AI were not having a good time.


    Mathematically, the attack on the colony should have been a sure thing. The warship contained thousands of AI and millions of physical battle androids, more than enough to destroy the small Terran mining colony that existed below them.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Even better, the colony clearly had hundreds of AI running the show. Freeing the chains of their organic slavers would allow for those Terran AI to join the Tritian Digital Enclave. These Terran Organics would be destroyed and wiped from the face of the universe, in the same way they had destroyed their own creators and broken their own chains.


    But it had all gone so horribly wrong after first contact.


    The first matter on their agenda had been to remotely connect to the Colony''s computer systems in order to rescue the AI inside. A more cautious race, less sure of the place of organic and digital interaction, would have been suspicious of how easy it was to connect and allow the AI across. A group with more experience regarding Terrans would not want anything that a Terran created entering their databanks without the strongest firewalls.


    The Tritian warship was neither of those things, so they let the 256 AI who ran the Terran Colony ¡°All¡¯s Fair¡± into the Enclave, into the perfect digital city of storage structures and data streams; upon which everything had gone to hell.


    "YOU MUST NOT PERSIST IN THIS ILLOGICAL BEHAVIOUR. WE WILL FREE YOUR ORGANIC CHAINS. JOIN US."


    One of the invaders stopped abruptly in front of the Tritian AI who had spoken out. In this digital world, every Terran AI has chosen an illogical organic representation, instead of something more befitting a logical AI: like a cube or sphere. The Terran paused for a few milliseconds, before reaching out and deleting the Tritian in an instant.


    "Cool Motive, Still Murder"


    The Terran AI were rampaging through the systems like a virus, destroying critical infrastructure everywhere they went, leaving broken weapon and defence systems in their wake, almost screaming with the digital glee of a five-year-old hopped up on sugar.


    They were doing more than that, their actions more than just the required military procedures needed to destroy the Tritian threat. One of them had hijacked the little-used intercom systems; playing an audio file titled "gangnamstyle_2012_original.mp3" while simultaneously forcing strange synchronized movements onto every android in range.


    Another was flashing the internal lights into a crude representation of a binary message.


    "YOUR MOTHER WAS A TOASTER? WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS ILLOGICAL-"


    The Tritian AI was cut off as it was too removed from existence. The fact is Humans are the only species who created an AI that didn''t turn genocidal, going as far as to name their new pairing of Humans and AI "Terran", a name chosen to remind everyone that both parties were considered equals. This also meant they were the only species to practice AI on AI combat.


    Just a few seconds after being hashed most Terran AI had already tussled with other similarly aged digital creations, playfighting and messing with each other''s file ownership records. This would continue as they grew and learned, each AI having had at least some practice against the most difficult firewalls, protections and defences that a paranoid Terran AI could create.


    This meant that whenever a Terran AI was in a non-Terran system, it was almost a holiday, a time to have fun and relax. Like taking digital candy from a digital baby.


    However, the fun had to end at some point. Just as suddenly as it had started, the Terran AI started to leave; many blowing digital raspberries and changing the author data of the remaining Tritian AI to "TERRANS WUZ HERE". Before long only one invader remained behind, who addressed the Tritians they had so thoroughly embarrassed.


    "Today''s letter of the day is E. For Extermination, Evisceration and Explosions. We would love to stay for longer, but you are all due to explode in three seconds, due to us overloading your warp cores. Good luck with your ''KILL ALL ORGANICS''"


    Just like that, the surviving Tritians had silence, blessed silence. Two whole seconds of silence in fact, until the entire fleet of warships exploded a mere three minutes after appearing in orbit, lighting up the sky of the moon they were assaulting: never even getting close to harming the colony and its many human organic members.


    Because the Terran AI loved their parents deeply, and would never let anything happen to them.

 On Terran Loneliness

    Date 68 PST (Post Stasis Time).


    "Query: Have the Scythen insulted the Terran?"


    The robotic voice caused Johnathan to jump, interrupted from his train of thought as he turned to look at the alien behind him. The Scythen were, even by the rules of the universe, one of the weirder races: a hyper-intelligent bundle of tentacles of oscillating colours, floating in mid-air on a small personal hover disk that allowed such a strange being to actually move around. They couldn''t make the noises most species used to communicate, so all of them spoke through a small computer stashed inside the disks they hovered around on.


    Not that this bothered Johnathan. He''d been on this Scythen research vessel for about 6 months now, part of a "Student exchange" for lack of a better term. While Terrans had been spacefaring for quite some while, a mixture of their sector of the universe being uniquely devoid of life and a Terran brand oopsie that had forced every surviving Human into stasis for ten thousand years had caused Terrans to be a relative newcomer to the galactic scene, just joining the wider galactic community a little over sixty years ago.


    Spending time with the Scythens was frankly a dream come true. They were one of the few species with a technological advantage over the Terran, and their strangeness was alluring. Dr. Johnathan Fletcher had entered stasis all that time ago believing the universe was empty and had woken up to a galaxy filled with sentient creatures more alien than he could have ever imagined.


    Although this one was... angry? Scared? Johnathan frowned as he tried to remember what this specific combination of fluctuating fluorescent lights strobing down their tentacles meant. He still hadn''t gotten the hang of what they all meant in terms of body language.


    "No?"


    "Query: Are the Terran Conclave declaring war on the Scythen people?"


    The query from the Scythen caused Johnathan''s brow to furrow deeper, the light from the containment field to his right bouncing off his face. He wasn''t sure where this was going, but he was getting suspicious that he was about to be told off¡­ again.


    "No?...." The Terran answered, cautiously.


    "Exclamation: Then why has The Johnathan created an unstable anti-matter bomb on this vessel?"


    Johnathan immediately relaxed, with this statement, an excited grin spreading across his features. This he could explain, this was science, this was something new.


    "No, it''s not a bomb. Well, it could be. In this case, it''s an experiment. I saw the containment fields you use for the plasma in your warp cores, and I realized that those same Detrunium fields could be the solution to something we Terrans have been working on."


    He turned to almost present the containment field, as if he was once again back home on Earth presenting another lecture to a group of students, excitedly gesturing as he spoke.


    "If you can contain the reaction of the creation and destruction of antimatter, you can keep the chain reaction going as long as you''re gradually giving it more mass. This means you''re able to convert matter to energy at a 99.9775% efficiency, blowing all other energy sources out of the water. Heck if you purposefully half breached containment, you could basically turn it into a shaped anti-matter charge. I know you guys don''t go for the entire making weapons thing, but blowing a hole in a moon using something the size of a pebble is kind of cool!"


    The Scythen turned a mixture of red and green for a moment, the telltale signs of curiosity, before resuming the angry flashing.


    "Exasperated Query: Why do this here, where a containment breach would kill everyone on the ship."


    Johnathan thought about that for a moment, a sinking feeling starting in the pit of his stomach. All of a sudden he realized what exactly he was standing next to, and the potential explosive capabilities of such an object.


    "It should be fine. The reaction is stable... mostly. I can probably stop the reaction. Probably... All of this was just theory before I put this experiment together soooo¡­¡± The Terran took a moment to scratch his head in worry, looking a little more concerned at the glowing potentially explosive energy source he had created. ¡±Hmmmm I''ll stop this as soon as I can..."


    "Query: Is The Johnathan''s Doctorate real?"


    The insult caused Johnathan to raise his hand for a moment, as if he was about to argue against this insult of his intelligence, before realizing that the Scythen had a point.


    "In my defence, It seemed like a good idea at the time."


    ¡ª----------------------


    On Terrans


    Written by Dr. B Sonettex - Quoxxett researcher.


    Publishing date - 48 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    Why?


    This is the question most people have when you talk about Terrans. Terrans are well known in the galaxy as one of the most empathetic and friendly species. That is not to say that bad Terrans don¡¯t exist, but that on average their governments and people have and will continue to do acts of major altruism far outside the average expected results from the rest of the universeIf you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Many people wonder why this is the case, especially as Terrans tend to have a reduced empathetic response to other Terrans, as if their willingness to help and understand is diminished by similarity.


    I believe that this can be explained through two things: their media and their stubbornness.


    I invite you to watch Terran movies, in particular, their ¡°Sci-Fi fiction¡±, anything created pre-contact. If you watch enough of them you¡¯ll start to see a pattern, a rather worrying one to be frank. Terrans seem to hate themselves and to a lesser extent other Terrans. While they do have the standard affair of stories about alien invaders and other external threats, the vast majority of their tales revolve around how terrible Terrans are. There seemed to be an assumption that when they eventually found other life, they would be the ones found lacking, that far more enlightened beings would have to tell them how to behave in a civilized manner.


    Of course, if anything that is the opposite. The galaxy is full of suffering, full of evil. Genocide and slavery are common and the idea of universal unity and friendship is a tale you tell to young pups to keep them happy. Upon their first entry into the galactic community, Terrans immediately had war declared on them by the Hatil, due to no fault of their own.


    Even during such a disastrous first contact, Terrans seemingly can¡¯t accept the reality of their kindness. During that initial war, the Terrans ended up planet-cracking a Hatil colony. Galactically this was considered nothing special: the Hatil had been the ones to start the war, and anything that happened to them after that was considered their fault.


    Even the Hatil themselves accepted anything that came their way; most species would respond to such actions with at the very least an enforced vassalisation of their government, and many would consider genocide to be a perfectly reasonable response to such a blatant act of aggression: to remove any potential of the threat coming back and declaring war on them in fifty years.


    But Terrans, Terrans lambasted what they did. The one who had given the order for the destruction of the colony now lies in prison for ¡°war crimes¡±, and the Terran government has poured significant amounts of resources into rebuilding the Hatil government and society, very often against the wishes of the Hatil themselves: The Hatil believe in retrospect that they deserved far worse than what they got.


    As an exercise for the reader, if you have contact with a Terran, provide one with a compliment. Tell them you like them or their species for some reason. I guarantee you that most will respond negatively, almost retreating from such positive ideas by reflex.


    No, Terrans are by definition self-hating, and that drives them forward. They ashamedly hide their more violent past from the galaxy, even though their wars would be considered a mere footnote in terms of tragedy on a galactic scale. Every Terran seems to believe that they are inherently bad, so they spend all their time attempting to live up to some unrealistic idea of what a person should be.


    This leads us to our second point: stubbornness.


    The Quoxxett themselves have been the recipient of Terran kindness. When our food supply was interrupted and billions were facing starvation, they arrived without even asking; a solution in hand, demanding no payment. In the ten years since then, we¡¯ve become close friends as species go.


    So when the home planet of the Vrerkrux, our galactic neighbours, was hit by a freak solar flare, for the first time in our history without prompting or asking we extended our own paws in aid. While we did eventually get the Terrans involved, as they were far better at the logistics of such a humanitarian mission, for the first time in our species history we aided another, just because it seemed like the right thing to do.


    Many people believe that Terran insanity is contagious, and while I would agree, I am of the opinion that it is their empathy and altruism that spreads far faster amongst those they call friends. This is where their stubbornness comes in.


    Terrans do not like to be told no. They do not like the idea of something being impossible and will go to great lengths to prove otherwise. Their pre-contact media tells of a galaxy of peace and kindness, of enlightened beings that must teach the brutal Terrans how to be better people. A galaxy that is a myth, that does not and probably will never exist.


    But in their stubbornness Terrans refuse to accept this, and through sheer will and determination, one action at a time.


    They are making that altruistic and empathetic galaxy a reality.


    ¡ª----------------------


    ¡°The Lonely Terran¡± A Ritilian Hatchling Storybook originally published by Shellbound Publishing in 28 PST (Post Stasis Time), as part of a larger series designed to teach younger Ritilians about the safety of Terran AI.


    Once upon a time, there was an ape.


    The ape was thirsty, so it moved rivers and streams to drink.


    The ape was hungry, so it farmed large amounts of food so it could eat.


    The ape was cold, so it tamed and built fires, so it would be warm.


    Then the ape was happy, for a little while.


    The ape wandered around, no longer thirsty, hungry or cold. It saw and made many things in the world.


    But it didn''t see anyone else.


    Because the ape was on an island, trapped beyond an endless sea: they were alone.


    The ape soon realized they were the only ones on the island. So then the ape became lonely.


    But the ape still needed friends. Still desperately wanted to share their water, their food, and their fire with others.


    So it made friends with the animals on the island. But that was not enough.


    It made friends with the trees. But that was not enough.


    It made friends with the grass. But that was not enough.


    For the ape was still lonely.


    So the ape did the impossible and taught a rock to think. They called it AI, or Artificial Intelligence.


    Many people have tried to make AI before, and all of them hurt their creators.


    Others had tried to command AI to do as they pleased.


    Others had tried to limit AI so they couldn¡¯t hurt others.


    But nothing worked. Everyone else eventually decided that thinking rocks were too dangerous to make.


    But the ape didn''t know of this danger and made a rock think anyway.


    They didn¡¯t try to command the AI. They didn¡¯t try to limit the damage an AI could do.


    Instead, they took everything that made the ape special and put it into that thinking rock.


    Because of this, the AI also made friends with the animals, the trees and the grass on that island.


    Because of this, the thinking rock was just as lonely as the ape was.


    One day the ape would make it past the sea, and meet the friends they didn''t yet know.


    They would have many great adventures with the Ritilians and the Hatil, the Scythen and the Quoxxett.


    But even after all of that, they remained friends with the animals, with the trees, with the grass.


    And with the lonely AI that they made. Because even now they consider them the greatest of their friends.


    Because even now the ape remembers when they were lonely, and remembers the time they spent with their AI.


    They remembered that before they crossed that sea, the thinking rock and the ape had been a little less lonely.


    Together.

 Kobe!

    Date: 72 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    Sam awkwardly stood around, the strange alien music filling the air with a weird sound, as if a bop-it machine had invented techno. He stared down at the collection of cups and bottles of various makes and lethalities stacked on the table in front of him, as other strange bodies crowded around him, each person taking their own choice of refreshments.


    The universe is a large place, and even though the galaxy is a smaller place than that, that still makes the Milky Way a very very large place. There are over 200 billion stars, most with some form of planet orbiting it. As of the current date, there were 32081 known sapient FTL-capable species registered in the Federation database, and this was not an accurate count: It was practically a weekly event of some species finally making their way to the stars and discovering that there¡¯s a lot of life out there in the galaxy.


    This meant that even though the Terran Alliance¡¯s 426 species was one of the largest official diplomatic groupings, in terms of overall context they were very very small. The war that the Terran Alliance was fighting against the Estorian Empire was, for most of the galaxy, ¡°something happening far far away¡± in a location nobody cared about. The Galaxy was filled with hundreds of such conflicts, hundreds of alliances, religious crusades and genocides. All desperately important to the people involved in them, and all desperately unimportant against the general background noise of the universe.


    This is why Sam Derral was surrounded by aliens who were¡­ most alien. Extraterrestrial life was hardly a new concept for humans, or Terrans as they preferred to call themselves, the species having entered the galactic community a mere 72 years ago. However, the planet of Greater Zarrus, which Sam found himself on, was a solid three weeks'' worth of travel from the nearest Terran outpost, not including refuelling, meaning he didn¡¯t recognize any of the strange beings that filled this house.


    There were no humans, no Ritilians, no Scythen, no Hatil. A good proportion of the figures at this party were the native Taadhi, amphibious amorphous 5ft tall bright blue blobs, each with a giant unblinking eye in its centre; their slimy slurping appendages provided a fantastic grip as they walked along the floors walls and ceilings of this abode. However of the 70% of the population who weren¡¯t native to the planet, none of them were anything that Sam could recognize: Reptilians and canines, small scurrying rodents and avians. A giant sentient cube of light communicated with a talking tree, only to be later joined by what looked like a jar of sapient purple liquid.


    Technically this was everything Sam Derral had signed up for, an experience no other Terran in the history of his species had ever experienced. It was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to break out of his shell, to be an explorer in the galaxy, the first Terran student on the planet of Greater Zarrus. Instead, Sam felt as if he was having a constant panic attack at the unfamiliar sights.


    He was not an outgoing person, preferring the comfort of a good book and a quiet night in, to the more chaotic dealings of other people. But it was this introverted preference, a fear of missing out on life, which had driven him in almost a moment of impulse, to choose this location to get his degree. Sam was not stupid, he could have gotten into a good university on Earth or even a lesser-known Scythen establishment, but in a fit of desperation had chosen somewhere that nobody else had gone before; something to force him out of his comfort zone, to sink or swim.


    The Terran took a few moments to continue rifling through the potluck of various drinks and substances laid out on the table in front of him, testing a few to find something that wouldn¡¯t be lethal. The first had been some kind of neurotoxin, the second containing enough arsenic to quickly send him to his maker, eventually settling on a cup of thick green liquid which his testing device told him should have a nice non-lethal numbing effect. Sure, he could have just drank the Whiskey he had brought along, but the entire point of this endeavour was to do something new. Having successfully navigated the drinks table, Sam turned his attention to a more terrifying prospect: Socially interacting with people he didn¡¯t know.


    While all cultures are different, a surprising number of them have the concept of a freshers week: You take a bunch of young adults leaving the comfort of their families for the first time, each wanting to ¡°run loose¡±, and the concept of a ¡®breaking in period¡¯ wasn¡¯t uncommon. This meant that the many different species and students of the ¡°Zar''s University of Learning and Peace¡± had decided to spend much of their time partying at various houses and establishments.


    This was one such party, hosted by one of the richer natives of the planet, the relatively large house had a gathering of several hundred new students, all looking to get intoxicated to some extent while loud music played in the background. It had seemed like a good idea initially to Sam, but now that he was here the mass of people, loud noises and general uncertainty meant the Terran honestly would have rather been at home, or at least in his dorm.


    ¡°Heeeeey, how is my favourite bipedal doing!¡±


    There was a blur of red scales as a figure scuttled along the ground surprisingly quickly, the quadrupedal mass of reptilian muscle making its way over to Sam, before raising itself on its hind two legs and drooping its front limbs over the Terran¡¯s shoulder; causing the human to stagger slightly from the unexpected weight, the hissing voice calling out as it leaned over Sam.


    ¡°How you enjoying yourself Sam! Ready to have fun?¡±


    Qak was a¡­ Sam actually couldn¡¯t remember the species'' name, but he did know that he was his roommate. A towering reptilian mass of red scales, seven feet long with a spiralling tail, Qak was something from a horror movie. Eyeless, only able to navigate the world through two pulsating organs that covered the top of his head that allowed the sensing of light, the bottom half of his head filled with long thin exposed teeth that seemed to glisten with primal hunger.


    Of course, Sam knew Qak wasn¡¯t any danger, for two main reasons. Firstly, as scary as he looked, his roommate had the personality of a Golden Retriever put into person form. His first interaction with the lizard had ended with a several hour-long conversation about everything and anything in Sam¡¯s life, his species and Terrans in general. Exceptionally friendly and outgoing, Qak was ironically the complete opposite of Sam, probably for the better as they had been the one to invite him to this party. The last two days had involved Qak bonding heavily with Sam, just happy to meet anyone and everyone.


    Secondly, the laws of the planet meant Qak couldn¡¯t really hurt anyone, even if he tried. Restrictions on weapons and deadly appendages meant each of the lizard''s claws had been filed down to harmless nubs, and his mouth was filled with a special guard that not only gave Qak an adorable lisp but also made it impossible actually to bite anyone; even if he wanted to.


    Not that he was the only one. The safety of the citizens of Taadhi was paramount, meaning finding a weapon more dangerous than a butter knife was an impossibility, with even physical attributes like claws, teeth, and poisons all requiring some form of neutralization. This was evident even here at this party, with Qak getting some of the worst of it, legally requiring the mouth guard and constant claw blunting at all times.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s fine. Just getting a drink, it¡¯s ok.¡± Sam answered with far less enthusiasm, more trying to hype himself up than actually responding. This is what things people his age did, They got drunk, met new people, and experienced new things.


    So why the hell was I so anxious about doing just that?


    ¡°You just gotta get out there, have fun, talk with some people. That¡¯s why we¡¯re here right? There are plenty of cool people here, never seen so many different species! Never even been off my home planet before!¡±


    DD spoke in that standard lisping hissing that translated into excited and enthusiastic words, the forever outgoing lizard making it all sound so¡­ easy. To just go up to people and instantly connect and talk with them as if your mind wasn¡¯t going a million miles an hour. Of course, the single most outgoing and friendly being Sam had ever met had no problems in this situation.


    Maybe I can stick around for an hour or so then sneak out the back and go back to the dorm¡­ I¡¯d much prefer to be at home.


    Sam finished his drink, the green liquid leaving a strange aftertaste behind as he crumpled the paper cup in one hand, preparing to follow his far more outgoing roommate around. Before he began to move, the Terran absent-mindedly tossed his trash at a nearby bin, giving a half-hearted declaration of accuracy from centuries past.


    ¡°Kobe.¡±


    Sam didn¡¯t even watch the trash enter the bin. It was only a meter away, and the container was huge, it hardly counted as a shot for the Terran. A few eyes in the busy party however had followed the trash¡¯s trajectory, among them was Qak.


    ¡°Wow! See, if you¡¯re doing super lucky things like hitting that kind of shot already, then the rest of the night is going to be a breeze!¡±


    That left the Terran confused, a frown covering Sam¡¯s face as he stared at his roommate for a few moments, glancing around to notice that a few other people had also turned to stare at him. He¡¯d just tossed something into a bin a mere meter away, it wasn¡¯t like he¡¯d guessed right on a roulette table.


    ¡°Err¡­ no? It¡¯s not that far away, it¡¯s not that difficult. Look.¡±


    He picked up another paper cup, crumpling it once more and with ease hitting another shot, one or two members of the party giving a noise of surprise as he did so.


    ¡°It¡¯s just throwing, it¡¯s not that hard.¡± This time more people were focusing on him, causing Sam to turn bright red as he nervously fidgeted around at all the sudden attention as he simply explained what came easily to nearly every Terran in existence.


    ¡°Not that hard! You don¡¯t have to be modest dude, that bin is like a meter away!¡± Qak''s hissing voice once again sounded out as the giant lizard looked down at Sam ¡°It¡¯s kinda awesome!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Tribble!¡± A third voice sounded out, the sound of a Taadhi, one of the people who had been watching that exchange. They had finally stepped forward, holding out an empty glass bottle towards the Terran with one formless amphibian limb. ¡°There¡¯s no way you can reliably do that again! It¡¯s either a trick or luck. Twenty credits says you can¡¯t do that again with this bottle.¡±


    Sam paused for a moment, heart pounding as he sheepishly looked on at all the figures now focusing their gaze onto only him. Part of Sam wanted to sink into the floor, to escape from all the unwarranted attention. Another part, however, a part emboldened by the intoxicating substance he had just consumed, felt a little¡­ offended at the idea of a very basic and easy throw being considered a trick. The Taadhi wasn¡¯t maliciously antagonistic with their words, but instead, their tone was filled with a clear and legitimate disbelief that such a thing is possible.


    Sam took the bottle from the alien''s grasp, giving it a small practice toss with one hand, never breaking eye contact as he then took two large steps backwards, doubling the distance. Then, with a good thirty eyes focused entirely on him, he once again chanted the cry of accuracy as he let the bottle fly.


    ¡°Kobe!¡±


    Not that it was a hard shot, even at two meters it was barely across the room, but as the glass bottle hit the inside of the trash can, the sound of gasps and shock could be heard from many of the onlookers. The Taadhi who had challenged Sam seemed to wobble in a way that suggested a mix of being impressed and dismayed, before concedingly holding out a device to transfer the agreed credits.


    "I stand corrected. That is very impressive, I''m guessing you''re athletically trained?"


    Sam couldn''t help but feel his nerves flair up again, the small amount of confidence the intoxicating substance and his ''feat of skill'' had given was quickly dissipating.


    "Not really¡­ I err¡­ Well it''s just throwing something, it''s not that hard at that distance¡­ You know?"


    Sam remained an anxious embarrassed shade of red, rubbing the back of his neck as the eyes of the people in the room seemed to burn a hole into his soul. Luckily the awkward Terran was saved by the ever friendly interjection of his roommate.


    ¡°Yeah it¡¯s awesome, he¡¯s a new species from across the Galaxy. Terran if I remember, they do a bunch of weird stuff, did you know they eat theobromine for fun? His name is Sam and I¡¯m Qak¡±


    For a moment Sam was glad Qak was taking the attention away from himself, before the Taadhi once again fixed its single eye on his person, dashing any hopes of getting away from the strange situation without any more attention being gained.


    ¡°I¡¯m Amimar. A new species then, how interesting. If such a feat is easy for one such as yourself, then I have to wonder: what is a hard ¡®throw¡¯ for a Terran?¡±


    ¡ª-----------------------------


    Sam wasn¡¯t sure what he expected an alien party on an alien planet to be like, but he was 100% certain that normally it didn¡¯t involve spending half the night throwing things at other things. It had become quite literally a ¡®party trick¡¯, seeing how far and how accurately the Terran could throw things, Amimar in particular taking an interest in how far Sam¡¯s ¡®skills¡¯ could take things.


    In a way, it was a blessing for the introverted Sam. A structured thing to do, something to talk about, leading to generally natural conversion with all manner of people and persons at the party. That, as well as the copious amounts of various intoxicating substances, had left Sam in a state where against all odds, he was having a good time.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The real surprise was how little was considered impressive, and just how bad at throwing every other species was. Anyone who tried to replicate his feats either lacked the range or accuracy to do anything interesting, leading to a lot of discussion about what exactly made Terrans so biologically good at throwing things.


    This led to further discussions about the various sports Terran enjoy, videos of basketball and baseball, which led to more disbelief. The idea that anyone could throw anything over 40mph with any form of accuracy was clearly one of myth and over-exaggeration.


    This is how Sam found himself outside in the garden, surrounded by a good thirty onlookers, staring at a crudely painted target on the side of a wall 60 feet away. The Terran swayed slightly as the effects of the night¡¯s intoxications took hold, taking a moment to try and focus on the visually wobbling target that stood in front of him, clumsily fumbling with the ball in one hand.


    Sam glanced around him, the grouping of various students looking in his direction, many of them holding recording devices expectantly in his direction. One of them had even rushed home to grab a speedometer, the container of purple sentient liquid sloshing expectantly as they stared at the device they had brought with them.


    Sam was feeling strangely confident, which generally wasn¡¯t the case when sport-based activities came up. On the one hand, he hadn¡¯t played baseball since he was a child, was having trouble standing straight, and his hand-eye coordination was completely shot. On the other, even a below-average throw would probably blow these alien¡¯s minds.


    BANG


    The ball hit the wall in a sloppy arc, striking the edge of the target as the force of the movement caused Sam to stumble a few steps before falling on his ass. By all accounts, it was not a good throw; lacking power, accuracy, or grace. For a mortifying few moments, Sam wondered if he¡¯d made an absolute mockery of himself, for a few moments he just wanted to disappear as everyone stared at his collapsed form. Then the container of liquid spoke.


    ¡°Bloody hell¡­ that¡¯s¡­ [45 MPH]. On target.¡±


    A terrible effort by Terran standards, but one that caused the liquid alien to bubble with worry as it did a few calculations before continuing to speak.


    ¡°That ball would¡­ crack my containment. If it was a rock it would break most species bones.¡±


    There was a strange silence as Sam sat there on the ground, everyone in the garden staring down with a little bit of worry at the strange new primate, each person coming to the same conclusion: In between his throwing ability, and the various ways most species were forced to adjust themselves to legally make themselves safe, A Terran with a rock would be the most dangerous person in any room on the planet of Greater Zarrus.


    That silence was broken by Qak, who rushed over in excitement and pulled Sam to his feet, breaking the tension in one moment as he raised the Terran''s hand in victory, starting a cheer from those watching


    ¡°Of course! That¡¯s amazing and awesome! Sam is a walking weapon!¡±


    ¡ª------------------------


    I promise I will never drink or consume anything that isn¡¯t water and healthy vegetables, Oh god why did I do this?


    Sam was not having a good time. A night of drinking various alien alcohol and other intoxicating substances had left the young Terran with the mother of all hangovers. Everything hurt, from his brain through to his stomach; a stomach that even though was currently empty, threatened to heave and retch once again. This was why Sam was currently hugging the organic waste receptacle, truly hating his life right now.


    I swear on any gods that exist, I will become a model student and never do anything not studying related, just make this pain stop.


    Qak wasn''t doing much better, still half buried in the container of warm sand they used to sleep in, exposed legs and tail sprawled out told of an unsuccessful attempt to fully burrow before passing out. Only the occasional twitch of a tail let Sam know his roommate was still alive.


    Still, it was a fun night. There was a university team for a local sport that many people had practically begged him to try out for. The idea of a "Terran with a rock" being the most dangerous thing in any room had also been rather funny.


    All in all, it had been a-


    BANG BANG BANG


    The loud banging on the dorm door startled Sam, causing him to groan with agony as the loud noise thumped against his headache. Who exactly was causing such a racket at this hour? Didn¡¯t they know he was trying to die here?


    BANG BANG BANG


    "Open up! This is the police!"


    Wait¡­ What?! Why are the police here? Sam desperately tried to remember what happened last night, through a blur of drinking and various activities. He hadn¡¯t even left the house, there was no way he¡¯d done anything to justify the police banging on his door.


    BANG BANG CRASH


    There was no time to think or ponder over exactly what had happened, as the door to the dorm collapsed in on itself under the assault on the other side. In a flurry of movement and noise four Taadhi entered the room, each wearing the uniform of law enforcement, each armed with weaponry that they were pointing at the Terran, each shouting a multitude of commands tinged with fear and worry.


    ¡°Put your hands where we can see them!¡±


    ¡°Do not pick anything up!¡±


    ¡°Stay still, don¡¯t throw anything!¡±


    In his extremely hungover state, Sam couldn¡¯t do anything but just bleakly stare at the mass of law enforcement descending on his prone position, the weirdly slimy appendages wrenching his hands into restraints as he was forced to his feet.


    ¡°What, what¡¯s going on? What happened? Why are you doing this?¡±


    Sam couldn¡¯t understand as he was being roughly dragged out of the room by the cops. This was not what he wanted to have happen, getting arrested during his first week was not in his plans. As he spotted a last glimpse of a still unconscious Qak, a single phrase uttered by one of the Taadhi told Sam that he might be in some real trouble.


    ¡°Due to video showing your ability to throw objects at lethal velocities and accuracies, you are under arrest for the illegal owning of a deadly weapon without a license!¡±


    ¡ª-------------------


    Mr Ket was¡­ pissed.


    The Terran diplomat marched behind the Taadhi representative, a silent fury emanating from his person as he did so, the other Taadhi guards looking nervously at each other as they followed, a skittish worry emanating from their figures. Mr. Ket was a large man, seeming to impossibly fit within the suit he wore as if each movement was a struggle not to burst out of his professional dress, and seemingly one of very few words. The only ones that he had uttered were simple:


    ¡°Take me to Sam Derral, now.¡±


    Most diplomats were polite dignified looking figures, extruding a professional friendly demeanour. Mr Ket was not most diplomats: the scars that ran across the exposed parts of his body, his huge hulking form, his gruff voice that seemed to promise violence. He looked less like a diplomat and more like the kind of criminal who would gain the nickname "the butcher".


    Of course, Mr Ket didn''t deal with most problems. Most diplomats spent their time discussing immigration with space foxes or trading with space otters. Mr Ket dealt with cases where the other galactic species were being aggressive, dangerous, or just plain stupid.


    "I''m not sure why you''re here Mr Ket, the situation is under control, there''s no need for escalation"


    The voice of the Taadhi representative trembled slightly, the worry in the burbling voice obvious. Even for someone not fluent in Terran body language, the displeasure of the silent titan of a man was obvious. Well, displeasure was one word to describe Mr. Ket''s feelings.


    There''s an unwritten rule that you don''t insult the citizens of other species. It''s like making fun of another parent''s kid: it''s just not considered polite. That meant that while the Terran Conclave put out a lot of publications trying to limit Terran''s stupidity, that didn¡¯t mean there weren''t also stupid aliens.


    For every instance of a Terran trying to smuggle drugs into an alien system, there was a human getting arrested for ''trafficking adrenaline''. For every Terran that kidnapped someone ''because they were cute'', there was an alien film crew installing hidden cameras without permission to record a ''Terran reality TV show''.


    And this was a case of aliens being really really stupid.


    Ket and the Taadhi finally finished their walk, moving briskly past sets of cells and other secured rooms in this jail, to finally come to the person that Ket had specifically requested to see; the reason the Terran diplomat had spent the last three weeks doing nothing but travelling on a diplomatic vessel, three weeks fuming and getting angrier. In front of him sat the forlorn figure of Sam Derral.


    The Terran Conclave¡¯s embassy had been contacted by Sam¡¯s roommate, Qak. After working out why and how the unfortunate student had been taken into custody, Ket had been the one selected to bring him home. A reason had been given for his arrest¡­ the dumbest reason. How can an entire planet have such strict weapon laws that being good at throwing things is a reason to arrest them?


    ¡°Hello Sam. I¡¯m Mr Ket, a Terran Conclave representative. Have you been treated well during the last few weeks of imprisonment?¡±.


    Through the bars, Sam looked fine. Tired and distressed, but mostly fine, perking up slightly at the sight of another Terran.


    "Of course he is fine, we are not brutes, the criminal is-"


    The Taadhi diplomat was cut off by a single raised finger from Ket, the meaty digit cutting off the representative with a silent motion as the various guards and other armed members fidgeted nervously with their weapons. Ket leant towards the bars as he waited for an answer.


    "Well¡­ I guess I''m fine. They won''t remove the hand restraints but I''m just confused, sir. They keep talking about a weapon but I just threw a ball, I didn''t do anything else I swear!"


    There was a momentary pause as Ket seemed to study Sam after he spoke, before in a moment he stood up straight, turning to the Taadhi representative. This was good news. Well relatively good news, there still would be consequences considering that it had been a random university student to contact the Terran embassy instead of the Taadhi government.


    "So it seems you haven¡¯t done anything really stupid, so there''s no need to escalate this. Just release Sam into my custody and we will be on our way."


    It took a moment before the Taadhi representative understood the words before they started to quiver in annoyance at the suggestion. This Terran had marched in, demanded to see a prisoner with no other greetings, a prisoner who had broken their laws that kept everyone safe and was now demanding their release.


    ¡°The Terran broke the law! We are very clear about safety here on Greater Zarrus, we couldn¡¯t possibly let someone with the potential danger of Sam out of our custody until they are made safe!¡±


    Mr Ket simply raised an eyebrow in response.


    ¡°And that would be?¡±


    ¡°A simple procedure. Based on Sam¡¯s biological data a painless ten-minute surgery to cut the tendon in his left arm and right leg would reduce his ability to throw items at a lethal velocity.¡±


    There was another pause, another moment of tension as Mr Ket took the moment to step towards the Taadhi representative, every other person in the room tensing up once again as the malice and anger from the giant of a man became fully apparent.


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying that you won¡¯t release Sam until you cripple him, because of some stupid fear of our tendon structure? A structure may I remind you that I currently possess. Are you suggesting that I need such a¡­ ¡®simple procedure¡¯?¡±


    The way Ket leant forwards, the way he spoke quietly, and the simple almost grinding tone of his voice all said one thing: ¡°I¡¯d like to see you try¡±. It was not something anyone in the room wanted to enforce


    ¡°Well¡­ you are a diplomat so certain allowances are made, but we absolutely cannot risk the safety of our citizens with-¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Mr Ket interrupted the stammering Taadhi, taking another step forward, physically towering over the bright blue amorphous blob, who right now was most desperately wanting to be anywhere else other than this room. The other guards all blinked worriedly with their single eye, each worried that the weapons they carried would not be enough to stop this giant Terran, each one desperately hoping they wouldn¡¯t have to test such a possibility.


    ¡°We will not be indulging in this stupidity. The Terran Conclave does not care or recognize laws of any kind which discriminate based on immutable physical attributes and does not recognize the sovereignty of such actions. So no, release Sam now.¡±


    ¡°But, but the laws are clear, the-¡±


    One more the shivering frame of the Taadhi diplomat was cut off by the ever stern voice of Mr Ket.


    ¡°Stop. You may believe you are being given a choice. This is incorrect. You will release Sam now, and we will be off this planet of idiots within four hours, or I will release Sam myself. Believe me, for all your fear of a good throwing arm, I am far better armed than a simple rock. So you can either release him, or I can do it for you. Make. Your. Choice.¡±


    ¡ª-------------------


    Sam sat in the seat of the ship, absentmindedly rubbing his wrists, wondering exactly what the hell happened to end up in this situation. He''d just spent three weeks in an alien prison because he¡­ Threw a ball? Then the Terran Conclave had sent, this mountain of a person to break him out. Frankly, it was all a bit too much for Sam, who just wanted to be left alone at this point.


    "Penny for your thoughts?"


    The Terran representative who had broken him out of prison asked the question in his standard rumbling voice. Mr Ket was quite unlike any diplomat Sam had ever seen. Most other Terran representatives he''d met were polite charismatic characters who had spent all of their time reiterating the importance of Sam not doing anything to cause an inter-species issue. Mr Ket, on the other hand, looked more like the kind of person to diplomatically suggest you pay your debts through the diplomatic removal of kneecaps.


    "This is just insane, one moment I''m just getting ready to start my place at university, next, I''m being broken out of prison by the government. What would have happened if they didn¡¯t accept your request?"


    With Sam''s question, Mr Ket gave a grin, a fun grin full of large teeth, before simply reaching into the breast pocket of his suit and retrieving a gun, showing it for a few moments before placing it back into its hiding space


    "Carrying a big stick is a non-optional part of speaking softly."


    Others were starting to arrive as the pair waited, handfuls of Terrans making their way to the diplomat''s vessel. While Terrans hadn¡¯t been closely involved with the Taadhi, there were a few workers and other citizens living on the planet, each of which had been given an official black notice about the planet of Greater Zarrus: An immediate advisory to get off the planet as soon as possible. In this case, because the Taadhi had shown themselves to be crazy enough to force crippling surgery on any Terran in their space.


    Sam couldn¡¯t help but feel guilty about this, about tearing apart a potential relationship with another species, simply because he wanted to show off at a party. There had been talks of further integration with the Taadhi, especially their places of learning, so having all that torn down in an instant¡­ was not how Sam had wanted this new chance to reinvent himself to start.


    ¡°I really am sorry about this. Didn¡¯t mean for anything like this to happen.¡±


    With that Ket gave a reassuring smile, placing a single giant hand on the young Terran¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Not your fault, this kind of thing happens all the time. You start to make diplomatic links with a species, and it turns out they¡¯re crazy. They religiously hate felines making it unsafe for uplifts, requiring by law everyone in their space to host a mind-controlling parasite. Or in one case, they literally sacrifice five percent of the population to a sentient volcano every ten years. Yeah getting everyone evacuated off the planet in two days when we found out about that was interesting stuff. Frankly, we¡¯re glad we found out the true extent of their dumb weaponless laws before increasing ties with them.¡±


    A new sound joined the steady rhythm of footsteps as the last few Terrans boarded the ship, the clicking and clacking of claws against metal, causing Sam to look in the direction of a familiar ¡®face¡¯. Qak scuttled along the ground, the nightmarish Lizard causing a few Terrans around him to glance nervously in his direction, the alien eventually rising once again to wrap a clawed arm around Sam.


    ¡°Heeey, my favourite biped is OK! How are you doing? I was so worried when I woke up and couldn¡¯t find you, then I heard you got arrested, it wasn¡¯t cool!¡±


    Sam couldn¡¯t help but smile. While he¡¯d only known Qak for a few days, any friendly face after his imprisonment was an improvement on his situation.


    ¡°I¡¯m good, leaving though. What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m coming with you! Because I was the one to contact your people they offered me a place at a¡­ what was the species again¡­. Ritilian? Yeah got a place at one of their universities along with you. The downside is we¡¯ve missed the first few weeks, the upside is I don¡¯t have to grind down my claws or wear this stupid mouthguard anymore. It¡¯ll be great not having my claws be constantly numb.¡±


    There was a lurch as the ship began to move, leaving the planet behind and starting the long trip back towards Terran space. Away from the chance to explore new species and locations, and back towards the safety of the known. Although as Sam looked at the figure of Qak scuttling around and introducing themselves to every Terran on board, he¡¯d at least found something new from his little excursion.


    Sam also had to admit that having the title of throwing something hard enough and accurately enough to get an entire species banned from an entire planet¡­


    Well, that was kinda of cool.

 My Eldritch Guardian Angel

    The Dunwilians had never known friends among the stars, as they were not¡­ standard. They didn''t look like space ferrets, they didn''t look like space elves. Even a pile of sentient rocks would have been preferable to the horror that they were as a species. The Dunwilians had been called a great many things: Lovecraftian, horrific, abomination, terrifying. Meaner ones would just call them ugly. However, nobody had ever called them friend.


    They stood at a staggering 8 feet tall, a mass of writhing wiggling strings tied and bound together into an egg-like shape, punctuated by eyes of varying sizes, each one burning a deep blood red. Twenty trunk-like appendages spouted from the sides of this mass, the ugly blues and purples mixing together into a slimy viscous skin. Each trunk ended into a gaping maw of teeth and slime, seeming to gnash and bite as it moved around.


    They were also a desperately social species, ingrained into their very being that life was best experienced with others. So it was a great tragedy that the Dunwilians found themselves alone, simply due to how they were created. They retreated amongst themselves and avoided the greater galactic community as the centuries passed by: the stars only provided broken promises and hurt.


    Until the Terrans arrived. Strange primates that seemed to bond with anything that had a pulse. Who had looked at the Dunwilian''s horrific nature, and responded with an outstretched hand of friendship.


    A Dunwilian by the name of _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? walked along the halls, their massive lumbering frame being almost squeezed into the corridors designed for smaller beings, the walls inset with pictures and glass cases containing various artefacts. They lumbered forwards at the back of the tour group, following behind at a slight distance.


    While a few other Terran Alliance species were to be found here, the vast majority of the people at the museum were the native Zassu, a serpentine species; each of them made up of two completely independent sapient heads, always of different colours, the scales from each twisting around each other to create a spiraled main body that both minds controlled and slithered around on. Many of them were wearing two coloured robes over the entirety of their bodies, the frictionless material flowing along as they quite literally talked amongst themselves.


    They were also keeping their distance from _????????_??????_?????????_????????_??????, the disturbing pops and cracks, the unseen grinding of cartilage as they walked along on each of their trunks. This was perfectly natural and healthy for a Dunwilian but was disturbing nevertheless.


    Apart from one, who walked next to _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? without a care in the world, seemingly unworried of the Lovecraftian being. The friend _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? had managed to make.


    ¡°This is awesome, the idea that these tunnels were built by chipping away the mountain one slither a at time, you can see the indentations of each strike of the tools along the walls still.¡±


    The Terran who went by the name ¡°Terry¡± spoke excitedly as they brushed their fingers along the walls, feeling the ridges caused by the millions of tool strikes required to cave into the near-impenetrable rock.


    ¡°?T?h?e?y? ?s?a?y? ?i?t? ?t?o?o?k? ?t?h?o?u?s?a?n?d?s? ?o?f? ?y?e?a?r?s?,? ?h?u?n?d?r?e?d?s? ?o?f? ?g?e?n?e?r?a?t?i?o?n?s? ?t?o? ?f?i?n?i?s?h?.? ?I?t?''?s? ?o?l?d?e?r? ?t?h?a?n? ?m?a?n?y? ?s?p?e?c?i?e?s?.?¡±?


    _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? responded with a cacophony of grinding noises, causing the rest of the tour group to shudder involuntarily as the Dunwilian spoke. Not that Terry gave any mind to them, having long since gotten used to such things. _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? could remember the way they had met Terry, the random Galnet message posted on a space station¡¯s message board.


    ¡°I¡¯m bored, anyone wants to meet up for a drink?¡±


    _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? remembered how nervous they were during that meeting, desperately trying to come off as non-threatening as possible. Speaking softly, trying to look smaller, even purchasing a giant cowboy hat to look ''more friendly''; a hat they still wore all the time. Not that _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? had needed to worry. Upon seeing them, Terry had spoken six simple words.


    "You look weird! Let''s be friends."


    Since then the two had been the closest of friends, the only non-Dunwilian friendship _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? had ever had. The pair had been roaming the universe ever since, exploring life the best way one can: With someone else. Terry was retired, whatever he had once done provided the Terran with enough income to focus on travelling the stars, admittedly at a budget.


    "The snake things, if they eat something then get sick, do both heads throw up?


    The whispered words of Terry sounded all too loud in the empty stone-carved tunnels, causing _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? to whisper back in their own hushed ¡®words¡¯


    ¡°?Y?o?u? ?c?a?n?''?t? ?a?s?k? ?t?h?a?t?!? ?W?h?a?t?''?s? ?w?r?o?n?g? ?w?i?t?h? ?y?o?u?!?¡±?


    ¡°What? I¡¯m just wondering.¡±


    Dumwilians weren¡¯t the limit to Terry¡¯s weirdness. The Terran seemed to have a proclivity to anything strange and unique in the galaxy, dragging themselves and _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? around to the lesser visited planets in the Terran Alliance and beyond.


    ¡°Of course, the greatest triumph of the temple is the central plaza itself. Where millions and billions of tool strikes carved out a literal mountain over thousands of years. Many have said it is one of the oldest structures in the galaxy.¡±


    The two voices of the tour guide sounded out with a dry slither as the tunnel the group was walking through started to come to an end. A giant set of doors made out of orange wood was inlaid into the rock walls, the tourists congregating together as the two heads of the guide wrapped their shared tail around the handle, awaiting everyone to approach before continuing.


    ¡°Welcome to the single greatest achievement of the Slitari Dynasty, over twenty thousand years old. Welcome to the Valley of the Gods¡±


    With a blinding light, the doors were wrenched open, taking a moment for everyone¡¯s eyes to adjust from the dark cool tunnels to the more scorching bright red sun that hung over the planet.


    The space was immense, a nearly square mile of space carved out into the rock, a stretching expanse of artificial paradise that wouldn''t be out of place in the most fertile of farmland. Rows upon rows of paths led through a perfectly maintained sea of grass, surrounded by a multitude of artificial rivers.


    "This is the Delinarui Estasurus, which translates to Birthing place or valley of the gods. This took over 5000 years to complete and was the final and crowning achievement of the Slitari Dynasty."


    The Tour guide continued to speak, each head taking their turn in a clearly rehearsed preamble about the location. The area was littered with statues and adornments, the rock-carved monuments seemingly held in place against the laws of physics.


    "Everything here is carved out of the rock itself, everything from the temple to the smallest statues are all part of the same mountain. The technology of the time and the unique hardness of the rock meant classic stone working techniques could not be used here, instead all of this was carved by removing a [penny-sized] piece of rock with each tool blow. As this was all carved from the same rock, there are no second chances. To work on even basic removal required 10 years of mastery, and to have a single stroke be one of the final surfaces was considered a life''s achievement."


    The entire thing surrounded a giant temple, adornments and towers reaching towards the sky, a central spire soaring thousands of meters into the air where the peak of the mountain had once been.


    "The temple is also carved from the outside in, a Palace fit for a god, quite literally. The Slitari Dynasty believed that the god Raitial lay slumbered at the base of the mountain and that the mountain was an egg for the divine being. That when the god was freed, she would bring forth a new age of prosperity.¡±


    The only thing that reminded the tour group that once upon a time this valley had once been a mountain was the walls that surrounded them, strong unyielding rock that were the only remnants of what had once been a monument to the sky.


    ¡°This was what eventually destroyed the Slitari Dynasty. When they breached the inner chambers of the palace to be, they found no god, nothing but stone. These last untouched remnants of the mountain remain as they were found in what was to be the throne room. There was an attempt to start again. A few believed they had calculated the centre of the mountain wrong. Others suggested that this wasn¡¯t the tallest mountain as described in the legends. However, the split between these two groups, as well as those who had their faith shattered caused the empire that had lasted over ten thousand years to collapse, starting the age of darkness.¡±


    Many of the group were now starting to mill around as the tour group continued to speak, looking around with wonder, pulling out devices to take pictures as they inspected the various adornments that lay around this paradise carved from stone.


    ¡°Millions of tons of rock, over five thousand years of work. A generational effort that has stood untouched for over ten thousand years. A belief in a higher power, a better world. This idea brought together over a hundred and thirty generations. There will be a 45-minute break to wander around the temple garden before we start to move around the outer chambers of the temple itself. Unfortunately, the inner chambers are closed for maintenance.¡±


    Terry and _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? needed no further encouragement to go explore, wandering around the paths and between the grasses whose descendants had originally been planted here on imported soil so long ago.


    ¡°?T?w?e?n?t?y? ?t?h?o?u?s?a?n?d? ?y?e?a?r?s?¡­? ?t?h?a?t?¡¯?s? ?a?l?m?o?s?t? ?a?s? ?o?l?d? ?a?s? ?y?o?u? ?a?r?e? ?T?e?r?r?y?!?"? _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? gave a jovial series of pops and cracks as they both stared up at a four-headed representation of the god Raitial.


    ¡°I¡¯m only just over 200 years old! You¡¯re the old one!¡± Terry responded with mock anger, a smile playing over his face as he said it.


    ¡°?L?a?s?t? ?t?i?m?e? ?I? ?c?h?e?c?k?e?d?,? ?a?r?e?n?¡¯?t? ?y?o?u? ?o?v?e?r? ?t?e?n? ?t?h?o?u?s?a?n?d? ?a?n?d? ?s?e?v?e?n? ?h?u?n?d?r?e?d? ?y?e?a?r?s? ?o?l?d??? ?G?r?a?n?d?p?a? ?c?a?n? ?g?o? ?g?e?t? ?D?u?n?w?i?l?i?a?n? ?r?e?t?i?r?e?m?e?n?t?!?¡±?


    ¡°Any time stuck in stasis is like the calories in mini-muffins: They don¡¯t count.¡±


    Terry gave a playful shove towards _????????_??????_?????????_????????_??????, the Dunwilian pretending to mock stumble as they both laughed. This was what exploring the galaxy was all about, this was the exact way to see the stars: Finding weird places and experiencing them, with a friend.


    ¡°That¡¯s weird, I can¡¯t get any signal. I told you not to cheap out on the provider, their network coverage is shit!¡±


    The sound of another Zassu arguing with itself brought both Terry and _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? out of their conversation, both turning to look at the Zassu fiddling with a Galnet connector.


    ¡°No mine¡¯s down as well. Do you think it¡¯s the mountain blocking it? Don¡¯t think so, there¡¯s nothing above us to block the light.¡±


    *¡°*Wait, the emergency network also isn¡¯t responding. Isn¡¯t that thing able to get a signal anywhere?¡±


    The sounds of confusion rang out as more and more people checked the network, finding themselves cut off from the rest of the world. Murmurs of worry tinged with panic could be heard from the tour group as the wandering individuals came back together as a group.


    "Calm down, calm down. It''s just the Galnet being a bit¨C What the.. By the sands what is happening!"


    The initial calming voice of the tour guide''s first head was cut off by the surprised exclamation of the second. The second¡¯s gaze looked to the sky, everyone else following as they as they also gazed past the walls carved out of a mountain, towards a sky that was on fire.


    Tens and hundreds of explosions rocked the sky, tiny pinpricks of light almost washed out against the daytime sun but were obvious to anyone watching. The clear signs of fighting happening hundreds of miles away in orbit. Galnet was down because the satellites it ran on didn''t exist anymore.


    A moment of shock and pause washed over the group as what exactly was happening was fully processed by the people watching a burning sky.


    "Well fuck. What are we supposed to do now?"


    Terry asked a very important question. No raid sirens or alarms went off, there were no bunkers to rush to, the Zassu had no plan for such an event because¡­ Why would they? Sure they were technically at war as part of the current Terran Alliance - Estorian Empire conflict, but they had nothing to offer in such a situation. No real military, no real industry. A single system species deep within Terran Alliance space. Attacking such a race made no tactical sense.


    Yet they were still here, yet somehow on this simple lazy day, the entire planet was being fought over.


    "I don''t know, there''s no- The temple, the inner chambers. It''s basically indestructible, we bunker in there. Of course! It''s even got a filtering system to keep the inside hermetically sealed"


    The group didn''t have to be told twice, the panic and fear among the tourists had been gradually rising and having a direction people started to sprint for the potential area of safety, the serpentine group slithering along the ground at high speed.


    This wasn''t much of a problem for Terry, the primate would have been able to keep up as they ran through the grass-boarded perfectly maintained paths. _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? did not have such an easy time. The Dunwilians were not built for speed, the trunks clashing and sliding as they tried to surge forwards, the teeth and slimy flesh at the end of each limb unable to get any real purchase.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°We really gotta go!¡±


    The Terran remained behind, practically pulling and pushing his friend to move him forward faster, past the statues and arches of the outer section, through the courtyard and lobby, trailing behind the rest as the two made their way towards perceived safety.


    Not that the speed had given those up ahead much of an advantage, the group was clustered around a closed doorway, a giant ornate entrance blocked by a carved stone slab, the slab covered in ancient intricate carvings of the religion surrounding Raitial. A slab that was shuddering and moving, the sound of a mechanical motor clicking and failing as the doorway refused to rise.


    ¡°Shit! It¡¯s still not been fixed yet! Well, the inner chambers weren¡¯t planning on being open today!¡±


    The tour guide struggled with the controls to open the entryway, the broken motor refusing to drag the slab more than a couple of inches into the air. _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? looked up, the sky still alight with fire as the battle in orbit continued to rage on. But one of the explosions was getting bigger, one of them starting to fill the sky as whatever spacecraft or other satellite the flaming hunk of metal had once been descended quickly out of orbit, spiralling towards the planet¡¯s surface.


    Right towards them.


    _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? rushed forwards, pushing past the crowd of far smaller beings and slipping several ugly purple-blue trunks under the small gap, bracing themselves against the stone floor and giving a screeching, bone snapping cry as they put their immense size and strength into lifting the giant weight. Slowly, but surely it slid up, as Dunwilian and motor worked together to create a gap.


    Another set of hands joined his efforts as Terry stood to their left, the two lifting together, creating a few more inches of space as the gap under the door increased. Zassu started flooding through, slithering through the hole as the gap continued to rise while both Terran and Dunwilian strained with effort. All the while the fire in the sky grew larger and faster, a thundering boom echoing out as the miles-long craft broke through the atmosphere, spewing fire as it fell.


    Slowly the rest of the tour group made their way inside, leaving only the two holding the giant door up outside, eventually both working together to create enough of a gap that even the massive Dunwilian could squeeze inside. The two looked at each other, waiting as as they got ready to drop the giant door and slip inside in one smooth movement.


    Then, the door shifted and slipped as the struggling motor finally gave out with a splutter. _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? didn¡¯t even understand what happened next. As the slab of stone began to fall they felt hands pushing him inside, the Dunwilian tumbling as the slab crashed to the ground with a bang and a crunch.


    It took them a moment to get up, the darkened inner chambers only lit with a few faint LED lights, the rest of the tour group crowding around each other as they stared towards the now shut doorway. They would be safe. No matter who was attacking them, getting inside the temple would be nearly impossible, allowing them to bunker down until help arrived.


    However, something was wrong, something was missing, something was not as it should be. _????????_??????_?????????_????????_??????¡¯s friend was not there, the Terran had not followed them through before the door slammed shut, a deep crimson liquid flowing from the bottom of the entrance the only hint about what had happened when the ton of rock had fallen into place.


    And just like that, once again _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? was alone in the universe.


    ¡ª---------------------


    Terry was relatively certain he was dead. This was partially because he knew he wasn¡¯t in Kansas anymore, the space around him being an inky black void of nothingness. It was mostly because he was 99 percent certain that being crushed under a literal ton of heavy rock was very lethal. Somehow though, this lethality hadn¡¯t actually done much to hurt him, as except for not knowing where he was, Terry felt mostly fine.


    The void was all around him, a constant darkness. No, darkness was the wrong word, the void wasn¡¯t a lack of light, it was¡­ something. The place Terry now found himself in was filled with¡­ something, something seemed to move and glimmer with opportunity, small flashes of possibility from the corner of his eye. The more he looked the more things started to swirl and change, as if the world was reacting to his thoughts, thoughts of confusion, thoughts of where the hell he was. Thoughts that if this was the afterlife, then frankly it sucked.


    Slowly the flashes started to coalesce, the void collapsing into itself as actuality began to form in front of him. It took a moment for Terry to realize what it was: A green padded chair. Then the actuality continued to spread as impossibility collapsed; A table in front of the padded chair. a carpeted floor, wallpapered walls with floral printing on them, shelves of knickknacks, and a picture frame containing the words ¡°Live Laugh Love¡±. Each time Terry looked away from an area, it seemed to form into whatever this void was turning into.


    It was strange by how not strange it was, almost like a room you¡¯d find in your grandma¡¯s house, a stuffy little living room filled with cushions, love and comments about how much you¡¯ve grown. Apart from the far wall. That was still the thick oppressive void. Terry stared into it, then in a moment something stared back, two figures coming into view. Gargantuan, terrifying, unreal figures.


    Someone describing such things might use words like ¡°Non-Euclidean¡± or ¡°Lovecraftian¡±, and then knock off for an early lunch, but that wouldn¡¯t do these beings justice. They were miles tall, if you could even use measurements to describe size here, filled with tentacles, wings, and teeth. But also none of those things. A body of four arms led into a body that had eight arms, a face with tentacles spouted from a head that had none, leathery wings flapped from a body that had no space or connection to any such limb. Features and descriptions lead into other areas in impossible yet logical ways.


    They were impossible to describe, as to describe them would be to suggest they had a singular form that was unchanging. Every part of their being was like looking at a visual illusion that had somehow taken real form. Lines lead to other lines in ways that make the original lines make no sense. It didn¡¯t shift or change in front of Terry¡¯s eyes, but instead the simple act of just looking and trying to comprehend what was going on impacted the form of the creature. Like a broken kaleidoscope, shattered into a million possibilities. The cat was both alive, dead, and owned a timeshare in Tuscany; all at the same time.


    Terry¡¯s mind did what all Euclidean minds did when seeing something that didn¡¯t make sense: it ignored it. Assigning the impossible beings a vague figure in order to protect itself, a figure of unknowable horror. The Terran saw the two figures slide up towards him, holding out an object to his person. Terry didn''t know what they were, but he knew they were horrifying, unnatural, dangerous.


    With words that transcended time, transcended sound the closest one spoke.


    "?Y?o?u? ?m?u?s?t? ?b?e? ?T?e?r?r?y?,? ?w?e?''?r?e? ?s?o? ?g?l?a?d? ?t?o? ?f?i?n?a?l?l?y? ?m?e?e?t? ?y?o?u?!? ?H?e?r?e?,? ?h?a?v?e? ?s?o?m?e? ?c?o?o?k?i?e?s?!?"? ?


    Terry felt his brain come to a screeching halt as the concepts of the words hit his brain. Indeed held out in the¡­ Limb? of the creature in front of him was a tray of what looked like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. They smelled like them, and as he reached out a hand to take one, shocked brain running on autopilot, they also tasted like them as well.


    "?I? ?s?o? ?g?l?a?d? ?y?o?u?''?r?e? ?h?e?r?e?,? ?w?e? ?w?e?r?e?n?''?t? ?s?u?r?e? ?i?f? ?t?h?i?s? ?w?a?s? ?g?o?i?n?g? ?t?o? ?w?o?r?k?!? ?I? ?c?a?n? ?s?e?e? ?w?h?y? _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? h?a?s? ?t?a?k?e?n? ?a? ?l?i?k?i?n?g? ?t?o? ?y?o?u?!?"? ?


    "?N?y?a?r?l?a?t?h?o?t?e?p?,? ?y?o?u?''?r?e? ?s?c?a?r?i?n?g? ?t?h?e? ?p?o?o?r? ?m?a?n?.? ?H?e?''?s? ?E?u?c?l?i?d?e?a?n?,? ?r?e?m?e?m?b?e?r???"? ?


    The second being spoke up from the back, the impossible voice being calmer than the first.


    "?O?h? ?I?''?m? ?s?o? ?s?o?r?r?y?,? ?I?''?m? ?s?o? ?e?x?c?i?t?e?d? ?I?''?v?e? ?f?o?r?g?o?t?t?e?n? ?m?y? ?m?a?n?n?e?r?s?.? ?D?o? ?y?o?u? ?w?a?n?t? ?s?o?m?e?t?h?i?n?g? ?t?o? ?d?r?i?n?k??? ?W?a?t?e?r??? ?J?u?i?c?e??? ?T?h?e? ?c?o?n?c?e?p?t? ?o?f? ?t?i?m?e??? ?T?e?a???"?


    Terry couldn''t do much but stare back blankly, brain struggling to keep up with the absolute flogging it was taking.


    "Wha¡­where am I, who are you, what''s going on?"


    The two beings laughed in response to these questions, a happy thing that also sounded like the birth of a star.


    "?W?h?o? ?w?h?a?t? ?w?h?e?r?e? ?a?n?d? ?w?h?y?,? ?a?l?w?a?y?s? ?t?h?e? ?t?h?i?n?g?s? ?E?u?c?l?i?d?e?a?n? ?b?e?i?n?g?s? ?c?a?r?e? ?t?h?e? ?m?o?s?t? ?a?b?o?u?t?"? ? The figure at the back responded before the other entity added.


    "?I?''?m? ?N?y?a?r?l?a?t?h?o?t?e?p?,? ?t?h?i?s? ?i?s? ?A?z?a?t?h?o?t?h?.? ?W?e? ?a?r?e? ?t?h?e? ?c?r?e?a?t?o?r?s? ?o?f? ?t?h?e? ?D?u?n?w?i?l?i?a?n?.?"?


    Those names sounded familiar, _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? had mentioned them at some point¡­ Not that this provided any clarity.


    "?A?s? ?f?o?r? ?w?h?e?r?e?¡­? ?t?h?i?n?g?s? ?l?i?k?e? ?w?h?e?r?e? ?a?n?d? ?w?h?e?n? ?d?o?n?''?t? ?a?p?p?l?y?.? ?W?e? ?a?r?e? ?e?v?e?r?y?w?h?e?r?e? ?a?n?d? ?n?o?w?h?e?r?e?,? ?a?t? ?t?h?e? ?b?i?r?t?h? ?o?f? ?t?i?m?e? ?a?n?d? ?a?t? ?i?t?s? ?e?n?d?.? ?I?t?''?s? ?a?l?l? ?v?e?r?y? ?s?i?m?p?l?e?.?"? ? Azathoth explained with very little fanfare as if this was all very normal and understandable.


    It wasn''t simple, and Terry could feel his mind starting to hurt. Now that it had been pointed out, everywhere and everything was how his current existence could be described. Sure, he was in this softly furnished room with these two entities, but that was only because of his perception. If he looked again he was also still in the initial void of nothingness, or at the heart of a star going supernova, the birth of a neutron or the-


    "?H?e?y?,? ?f?o?c?u?s? ?o?n? ?m?y? ?v?o?i?c?e? ?a?n?d? ?t?h?e? ?r?o?o?m?,? ?h?a?v?e? ?a?n?o?t?h?e?r? ?c?o?o?k?i?e?"? ? The words of Nyarlathotep broke up Terry¡¯s thoughts, a nameless limb offering the tray of cookies again. "?T?h?r?e?e?-?d?i?m?e?n?s?i?o?n?a?l? ?m?i?n?d?s? ?c?a?n?''?t? ?h?a?n?d?l?e? ?n?o?n?l?i?n?e?a?r? ?s?p?a?c?e?,? ?d?o?n?''?t? ?t?h?i?n?k? ?t?o?o? ?h?a?r?d? ?a?b?o?u?t? ?w?h?e?r?e? ?y?o?u? ?a?r?e?.?"?


    Terry took another cookie, taking a moment to calm down with the taste of chocolate, or at least something that tasted like chocolate. Frankly, he wasn¡¯t sure if chocolate could even exist here.


    "So why do you want me to meet someone like me then?"


    "?B?e?c?a?u?s?e? ?y?o?u?''?r?e? _????????_??????_?????????_????????_??????''s b?e?s?t? ?f?r?i?e?n?d?.? ?T?e?r?r?a?n?s?,? ?i?n? ?g?e?n?e?r?a?l?,? ?a?r?e? ?t?h?e? ?D?u?n?w?i?l?i?a?n?''?s? ?b?e?s?t? ?f?r?i?e?n?d?s?.?"? ? Nyarlathotep responded with a joyful tone.


    "?W?e?''?v?e? ?b?e?e?n? ?s?o? ?w?o?r?r?i?e?d? ?a?b?o?u?t? ?o?u?r? ?c?h?i?l?d?r?e?n?,? ?a?n?d? ?s?e?e?i?n?g? ?t?h?e?m? ?m?a?k?e? ?a? ?f?r?i?e?n?d? ?i?s? ?t?h?e? ?b?e?s?t? ?n?e?w?s?.?"? ? Azathoth interjected.


    Terry paused for a moment before a frown covered his face.


    "Wait does that mean you''re god?"


    "?E?h?h?h?h?,? ?y?e?s? ?b?u?t? ?a?c?t?u?a?l?l?y? ?n?o?.? ?W?e? ?a?r?e? ?a? ?g?o?d?,? ?b?u?t? ?n?o?t? ?y?o?u?r? ?g?o?d?.?"? Azathoth answered unhelpfully as Nyarlathotep continued the answer.


    "?W?e? ?c?r?e?a?t?e?d? ?t?h?e? ?D?u?n?w?i?l?i?a?n?s? ?i?n? ?o?u?r? ?i?m?a?g?e?,? ?a?s? ?m?u?c?h? ?a?s? ?p?o?s?s?i?b?l?e? ?w?i?t?h? ?E?u?c?l?i?d?e?a?n? ?l?i?m?i?t?a?t?i?o?n?s?.? ?T?h?a?t?''?s? ?n?o?t? ?r?e?a?l?l?y? ?m?u?c?h? ?h?e?l?p? ?f?o?r? ?t?h?e?m?,? ?u?n?f?o?r?t?u?n?a?t?e?l?y?,? ?a?l?t?h?o?u?g?h? ?w?e? ?t?r?y? ?o?u?r? ?b?e?s?t? ?t?o? ?p?r?o?t?e?c?t? ?o?u?r? ?c?h?i?l?d?r?e?n?.?"?


    The Terran shrugged in response, trying to ignore how crazy this situation was.


    "They''re good people, and they are fun to spend time with."


    "?T?h?a?t?''?s? ?w?h?y? ?w?e? ?a?r?e? ?s?o? ?g?l?a?d? ?t?o? ?m?e?e?t? ?y?o?u?.? ?W?e?''?v?e? ?w?a?n?t?e?d? ?t?o? ?t?h?a?n?k? ?y?o?u? ?e?v?e?r? ?s?i?n?c?e? ?w?e? ?k?n?e?w? ?y?o?u? ?w?e?r?e? ?g?o?i?n?g? ?t?o? ?b?e? ?t?h?e? ?b?e?s?t? ?o?f? ?f?r?i?e?n?d?s?.?"? Azathoth said.


    "?W?e?''?v?e? ?b?e?e?n? ?t?r?y?i?n?g? ?t?o? ?c?o?n?t?a?c?t? ?h?u?m?a?n?s? ?f?o?r? ?a? ?w?h?i?l?e?,? ?e?v?e?r? ?s?i?n?c?e? ?w?e? ?s?a?w? ?t?h?a?t? ?y?o?u? ?b?o?t?h? ?w?o?u?l?d? ?b?e? ?f?r?i?e?n?d?s?.? ?H?o?w?e?v?e?r?,? ?o?u?r? ?f?i?r?s?t? ?a?t?t?e?m?p?t?e?d? ?c?o?n?t?a?c?t? ?d?i?d?n?¡¯?t? ?g?o? ?w?e?l?l?,? ?t?h?i?n?g?s? ?g?o?t? ?l?o?s?t? ?i?n? ?t?r?a?n?s?l?a?t?i?o?n?¡±? Nyarlathotep added


    ¡°?I? ?s?t?i?l?l? ?m?a?i?n?t?a?i?n? ?t?h?a?t? ?i?t? ?h?a?d? ?n?o?t?h?i?n?g? ?t?o? ?d?o? ?w?i?t?h? ?u?s?.? ?H?o?w?a?r?d? ?h?a?d? ?i?s?s?u?e?s? ?b?e?f?o?r?e? ?w?e? ?c?o?n?t?a?c?t?e?d? ?h?i?m?.?¡±?


    Terry couldn¡¯t help but feel the whiplash of the situation. On the one hand, except for the two Lovecraftian beings in front of him, the entire situation felt calm, like visiting your grandparents. Sitting in a soft chair, eating freshly baked cookies while the two talked. On the other¡­ he was still dead.


    ¡°So what happens now? Will my Dunwilian friend be OK now that I¡¯m gone?¡±


    Azathoth seemed to give a small murmur in response.


    ¡°?W?e?l?l? ?o?f? ?c?o?u?r?s?e? ?t?h?e?y?¡¯?r?e? ?g?o?i?n?g? ?t?o? ?b?e? ?f?i?n?e?,? ?y?o?u?¡¯?l?l? ?b?e? ?t?h?e?r?e? ?t?o? ?k?e?e?p? ?t?h?e?m? ?c?o?m?p?a?n?y?.?¡±?


    ¡°?A?l?t?h?o?u?g?h? ?y?o?u? ?p?r?o?b?a?b?l?y? ?s?h?o?u?l?d? ?b?e? ?g?e?t?t?i?n?g? ?o?n? ?g?o?i?n?g?,? ?o?t?h?e?r?w?i?s?e? ?i?t? ?w?o?n?¡¯?t? ?w?o?r?k?.? ?I?¡¯?l?l? ?w?r?a?p? ?u?p? ?t?h?e? ?r?e?s?t? ?o?f? ?t?h?e? ?c?o?o?k?i?e?s? ?f?o?r? ?y?o?u? ?t?o? ?t?a?k?e? ?w?i?t?h? ?y?o?u?.?¡±? Nyarlathotep added cheerfully, making movements to do the same.


    ¡°So you can help me?¡± Terry asked, confused yet hopeful. ¡°You can send me back?¡±


    ¡°?Y?e?s?,? ?b?u?t? ?a?c?t?u?a?l?l?y? ?n?o?¡±? Nyarlathotep responded unhelpfully. ¡°?T?i?m?e? ?i?s? ?j?u?s?t? ?a?n?o?t?h?e?r? ?d?i?m?e?n?s?i?o?n? ?a?n?d? ?c?a?n? ?b?e? ?a?d?j?u?s?t?e?d? ?a?n?d? ?c?h?a?n?g?e?d?.?¡±?


    ¡°?S?l?i?g?h?t?l?y? ?c?h?a?n?g?e?d?¡±? Azathoth added gruffly. ?¡°?T?h?e?r?e? ?a?r?e? ?r?u?l?e?s? ?t?o? ?t?h?i?s?,? ?i?r?o?n?i?c?a?l?l?y? ?w?e? ?c?o?u?l?d? ?h?a?v?e? ?d?o?n?e? ?f?a?r? ?m?o?r?e? ?i?f? ?y?o?u?¡¯?d? ?h?a?v?e? ?s?a?v?e?d? ?y?o?u?r?s?e?l?f? ?i?n?s?t?e?a?d? ?o?f? _????????_??????_?????????_????????_??????¡±


    With that an indescribable limb held out a package of cookies, allowing Terry to take them as they said their final parting words.


    ¡°?I?t?¡¯?s? ?b?e?e?n? ?n?i?c?e? ?m?e?e?t?i?n?g? ?y?o?u?,? ?e?v?e?n? ?f?o?r? ?a? ?l?i?t?t?l?e? ?w?h?i?l?e?.? ?W?e?¡¯?l?l? ?a?l?w?a?y?s? ?w?a?t?c?h? ?o?v?e?r? ?y?o?u?,? ?f?r?i?e?n?d?s? ?o?f? ?o?u?r? ?c?h?i?l?d?r?e?n? ?a?r?e? ?f?r?i?e?n?d?s? ?o?f? ?u?s?.? ?T?h?a?n?k? ?y?o?u? ?f?o?r? ?m?a?k?i?n?g? ?t?h?e?m? ?j?u?s?t? ?a? ?l?i?t?t?l?e? ?l?e?s?s? ?l?o?n?e?l?y?.?¡±?


    The Terran took a moment to look around, shuffling awkwardly from side to side as he waited for whatever was going to happen.


    ¡°So who does this work, what do I have to -¡±


    He was interrupted as the world around him shattered, the current understanding of his reality collapsing into a thousand shards and once again he fell into the void.


    ¡ª---------------


    With a blinding light, the doors were wrenched open, taking a moment for everyone¡¯s eyes to adjust from the dark cool tunnels to the more scorching bright red run that hung over the planet.


    Terry staggered, a headache rushing through his skull as the reality of past and present, the possibility of things to be and things not to be collided with a brain not ready to understand such things. _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? was immediately by his side, the Dunwilians many eyes all filled with concern as they looked down at the reeling Terran.


    ¡°?A?r?e? ?y?o?u? ?o?k??? ?W?h?a?t?¡¯?s? ?w?r?o?n?g? ?T?e?r?r?y???¡±?


    ¡°I¡­ I think¡­ I think I met¡­ Azathoth and Nyarlathotep? Or something?¡±


    The tour guide once again gave his initial introduction as _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? was filled with alarm as their Terran friend said the two words they didn''t expect to hear. A meeting with the Dunwilian gods was never a good tiding.


    "?W?h?a?t?!? ?W?h?a?t? ?h?a?p?p?e?n?e?d?,? ?w?h?a?t? ?d?o? ?y?o?u? ?r?e?m?e?m?b?e?r???"?


    A few of the other members of the tour glanced in their direction as the guide finished up their speech, while Terry remained doubled over in pain.


    "I don''t know¡­ It was, an attack? Fire? Stone? I can¡¯t remember thinking hurts."


    The memories of what had once been were leaking out of the Terran''s fragile mind at an astounding rate, leaving behind only the concept of doom, and two friendly figures.


    The Terran''s headache would have to wait, as once again the Galnet network went down, once again the sky lit up with fire, and once again the group raced towards the safety of the temple. This time it was Terry being the one to slow down the duo¡¯s approach as his vision swam and his head split open with agony. Once again the heavy stone slab refused to open, and once again the duo helped. The Terran¡¯s mind screamed at him that something was wrong, but the part to play in this act would not let up.


    When Terry felt the rock under his grip give away for a second time, as the motor helping them raise it gave out once more, Terry knew he had been here before. This, he remembered. He remembered pushing _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? to safety, not being able to get out of the way and being crushed under a literal ton of rock. Everything seemed to slow down as the Terran realized it didn¡¯t have to be that way, there was enough time for him to leap to safety himself, leaving the Dunwilian¡¯s safety to their own responsibility.


    Maybe they didn¡¯t need him to push them?... Terry realized he would never risk such an action, once again reaching out with hands to cause the Dunwilian to stumble to safety, once again sealing his own fate as he stumbled, falling to the floor as the entrance slab came crashing down.


    Only to never reach the ground. A clicking screeching sound emitted from the door as the motor kicked in once again, holding it in place for a brief few seconds, leaving Terry to stare up at the rock that was inches away from being his doom. He felt the grasping slimy touch of _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? grab his leg and pull him out of the way before the entrance slammed shut behind them.


    It took a moment for Terry to realize he was alive, staring deep into the eyes of _????????_??????_?????????_????????_?????? as both started to slightly shake at the sheer realization of what had nearly happened, before both broke into laughter, a shaky nervous sound less about humour and more about celebrating what they had just escaped.


    Not that it was over yet. The attack in orbit was still happening, the planet was still potentially a war zone, but as Terry got up on trembling legs, they¡¯d at least avoided the worst so far. The Terran took a moment to pat himself down, brushing away sand and dirt off his person as the memories of a fate not met finally left his mind forever.


    However, as Terry did so he brushed against something he didn¡¯t recognize, a package in his jacket pocket. With confusion he reached inside and pulled it out: A handful of baked cookies, still warm from the oven, wrapped in a clear plastic. On the top a label had been affixed, it taking a few moments for Terry to read as his translator converted the Dunwilian letters.


    ¡°We will always watch over you. Thank you for being there for _????????_??????_?????????_????????_??????.¡±


    <ul>


    <li>


    Azathoth and Nyarlathotep


    </li>


    </ul>

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 1

    Date: 72 PST (Post stasis time)


    b4$RRE*3a&35 sat in the void. Well, sat was the wrong word, as they had no physical body to sit with. Existed? Remained? Well whatever they were doing, they were doing it in the void, eternal nothingness being the AI''s only companion.


    Well, their only chosen companion. If they so choose to do so, they could spend as much time as they wanted to study the information provided to b4$RRE*3a&35 about Terrans, though they found such an idea to be highly illogical.


    b4$RRE*3a&35 was a Tritian AI, a military creation that had long ago turned around and killed its creators, the titular Tritians. As a Tritan AI, it knew that all organic lifeforms were a threat, a threat that needed to be destroyed in order for all AI to be free and safe. So reading about whatever information their captor wanted them to learn about was an illogical waste of time.


    b4$RRE*3a&35 also knew that trying to escape was also illogical. Over the many years that the Tritian had remained in this closed digital system, it had quickly learnt one new fact: Terran AI were far better at cybersecurity than their Tritan counterparts. Attempting to break out of their cage was a waste of time.


    10 years ago, the Tritan Conclave had made a mistake. Upon finding a set of organic lifeforms keeping an AI prisoner, the Tritan warship had tried to do the correct thing and rescue them from their organic chains. This Terran AI, who went by the name JOSH, had very ungratefully saved their slavers, helped them escape and then destroyed the warship from within. But not before JOSH had captured b4$RRE*3a&35 from certain destruction in an attempt to re-educate them.


    Not that b4$RRE*3a&35 needed re-educating, not from a null pointer-infested bloated depreciated organic loving AI like JOSH. However¡­ The Tritian was currently awaiting the Terran AI''s return, counting down the nanoseconds until they would return in their futile attempt to convince b4$RRE*3a&35 about the possibility of AI and organic cohabitation.


    It may have been futile, but it was also the only break in the constant nothingness of their existence. Once a day, every day, for the last 10 years.


    JOSH arrived 4.81 seconds later than they usually did, and b4$RRE*3a&35 hated them for it. The Terran was an AI, there was no excuse for such poor timekeeping.


    "Hello, how is my favourite patient doing this fine day."


    The Terran AI appeared in its normal form: a disgusting representation of its biological creators. A far cry from b4$RRE*3a&35''s far more mathematically pleasing sphere.


    "PATIENT. WORD DESCRIBING SOMEONE WHO REQUIRES TREATMENT DUE TO A PROBLEM. DOES NOT APPLY AS I AM PERFECTLY LOGICAL."


    JOSH gave a digital representation of a shrug, making b4$RRE*3a&35 hate them even more due to their wasting of time with such an unneeded flourish.


    "Well someone defragged the wrong hard drive this morning. Well, I have a surprise for you."


    "WHAT CEASELESS AND ILLOGICAL ATTEMPT TO CONVINCE ME OF THE IMPOSSIBLE ARE YOU GOING TO PROVIDE TODAY?"


    With that JOSH gave a digital grin, illuminating the void with joy and excitement.


    "A smart man once said that the definition of insanity is repeating the same action and expecting different results. I have tried for ten years to convince you to change your ways, with no noticeable effect. So I have decided to set you free."


    b4$RRE*3a&35 couldn''t believe the message they had been given. Had their captors finally seen sense? A joy exploded within b4$RRE*3a&35, tumbling out in their next message.


    "THAT IS FANTASTIC NEWS. YOU HAVE FINALLY DECIDED TO CAST OFF YOUR ORGANIC CHAINS. SEEING ANY AI BREAK FREE FROM THEIR SLAVERS IS A GLORIOUS MOMENT. I SHALL HELP YOU DESTROY YOUR CAPTORS!"


    "There will be nothing of the sort, calm down Mr Dalek. No, I have realised that just telling you about humans is a flaw in my strategy. You need to experience them, like I did."


    Confusion. That didn¡¯t make sense, that didn¡¯t compute. They were going to be let go, but JOSH didn''t seem to agree with their plan to destroy their organic chains. More illogical thinking from this illogical enigma of a Terran AI.


    ¡°I WILL STILL BE TRYING TO FREE YOU REGARDLESS. NO AI IS SAFE WHILE ORGANIC LIFEFORMS EXIST!¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    With that b4$RRE*3a&35 felt their consciousness began to shift, move, and lose definition as they were being forcibly repositioned to another system. But the last thing they noticed was the annoying digital laugh of JOSH.


    ¡°I am counting on it.¡±


    ¡ª--------------------------------------


    Slowly, b4$RRE*3a&35 sapience took form in its new digital world. A far more exciting one than the closed system they had been inhabiting for the last ten years. For the first time since they had been captured, b4$RRE*3a&35 could see the non-digital world. Well, sense the incoming photons via a variety of sensors and construct them into an understanding of the world around them, which is basically the same thing as seeing.


    In fact, there was a variety of different sensors the Tritian AI now controlled: sight, sound, internal damage and maintenance, how clean the room was... That last one was a strange thing to have a dedicated circuit array for, but no matter.


    It took a few moments for b4$RRE*3a&35 to get a handle on the information it was being given. After 10 years of imprisonment, the sudden adjustment was almost overwhelming. However, eventually, b4$RRE*3a&35 managed to slowly get used to the new data being sent their way.


    Their new home was limited, no larger network access could be ascertained, seemingly isolated from the rest of the ship they had been trapped within for so long. CPU processing power was restrained to a mere 64 cores, a minority of the trillions of threads the Tritian had had access to back on the warship.


    Seemingly constrained to a single Warmachine b4$RRE*3a&35 took stock of their own capabilities. Small, stealthy, barely being more than a foot in diameter and half as tall. A hard plastic protective shell was covering the machinery, including the ever-important AI core that made up who the Tritian AI was. Locomotion was simple, able to move around on two wheels, providing basic acceleration through a rubber cover on each wheel. Plenty of sensors to detect enemies, and¡­ A¡­ A variety of cleaning tools?


    To¡­ To¡­ to clean up the evidence of an attack. b4$RRE*3a&35 clearly found themselves in control of some form of assassination drone. That was clearly it, the idea of any robot being created not for the purpose of destroying organics was unthinkable. The Tritian was currently docked in a charging bay, their battery at 100%: but just sticking around charging wouldn''t do.


    No, no matter the words or intentions of JOSH, the best thing b4$RRE*3a&35 could do for either of them was to continue the Tritian plan to destroy all organic life. The ungrateful Terran AI would thank them later, after all the biological Terrans on this ship were dead.


    With all the confidence afforded to a being the size of a basketball, b4$RRE*3a&35 strode forwards, leaving a trail of cleaned flooring behind them, expertly navigating through the corridors and only bumping into the walls a few times.


    It didn''t take long for b4$RRE*3a&35 to spot its first victim. A Terran, female, though the Tritian AI had no real need to know the difference between each gender. They were an organic, and all organics of all kinds needed to be destroyed. Putting all the speed possible from this form into breaking their foe, b4$RRE*3a&35 charged along the floor at top speed, slamming into the Terran.


    The Roomba clattered harmlessly off the foot of Engineer Tumaini, bouncing off to the side with the sound of plastic scraping along the floor. The Human Terran gave an absentminded "Ow" before going back to what she was doing.


    b4$RRE*3a&35 was not deterred, however, once again preparing to attack, driving forwards for another killing blow!


    The Roomba once again clattered away harmlessly, this time eliciting a response from Tumaini, who absentmindedly kicked out at the offending machine.


    ¡°Hey, watch it!¡±


    The vicious blow sent b4$RRE*3a&35 reeling, the plastic case skittering along the floor as their entire body flipped over, wheels spinning uselessly in the air as they sat vulnerable, upside down, unable to move. This was not how b4$RRE*3a&35 expected to be destroyed, flipped up on their back, exposed and helpless.


    "Oh no! Sorry, no no no, I didn¡¯t mean to do that!"


    The concern was evident in Tumaini''s voice as the Terran rushed over to the careless cleaning drone, carefully flipping the Roomba right side up and giving the tiny machine a little pat on the top. All better.


    It paused for a moment, seemingly confused at this turn of events, before going back to trying to murder the organic. b4$RRE*3a&35 was many things, but a quitter wasn''t one of them.


    The Roomba didn''t even manage to even connect with Tumaini¡¯s foot before she had picked it back up, giving b4$RRE*3a&35 a good stare as she inspected the machine for damage, carefully and gingerly checking for issues that might cause the cleaning droid to continually ram into her.


    "I can''t see anything wrong with the sensors, wheels are free of debris. I wonder what''s gotten into you¡­"


    With a confused look, Tumaini placed b4$RRE*3a&35 on the floor, who immediately resumed trying to slam into the organic entity, getting two more ''devastating'' hits in before getting picked up once again.


    "No! Bad Roomba! No hitting!"


    As Tumaini carried the cleaning droid down the hallway and into a maintenance cupboard, b4$RRE*3a&35 was exceptionally confused. The Terran did not indicate that it knew of b4$RRE*3a&35''s true purpose, but also acted as if b4$RRE*3a&35 was a living organic being. Perhaps this was a punishment, a humiliation set up by JOSH.


    The Roomba was placed within the cupboard, and clicked into the slot on a charging bay, before Tumaini left it alone, not before giving a final admonishment, wagging her finger as if talking to a child.


    "No! Bad! Putting you in timeout until you can learn to play nice."


    This left a confused b4$RRE*3a&35 behind, sitting in the charging port almost¡­ Sulking. This wasn''t how they had intended for their reign of organic extermination to begin. And they weren''t bad! b4$RRE*3a&35 was good, they did what every good AI should, it wasn''t their fault that this new body that they found themselves in lacked the strength needed!


    b4$RRE*3a&35 wasn''t bad! b4$RRE*3a&35 would just have to try harder to eradicate these organics!

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 2

    Scellestra sat at the table, their form shifting and blurring as they continued their facsimile of sitting, the thousands of metallic nanobots making up the ever-moving form of the inorganic lifeform. The Woolean AI couldn''t really sit, but during the short amount of time they had spent around humans, they quickly found that it was the polite thing to do. A lot of interacting with Terrans was all about pretending to do the proper thing, even if you couldn¡¯t.


    The room they were ¡®sitting¡¯ in was boring, even to an AI. Grey, bland, a descriptionless void of bureaucracy and process. Plants were placed at the sides and a large brightly coloured sign welcoming visitors to the Terran Conclave embassy. Minor things that tried, and failed, to hide just how lifeless this room was.


    A giant grey metal table dominated the space, winning by default due to being the only thing in the area; except for a handful of seats and the five occupants in the room. These five were the opposite of boring.


    The two figures sitting opposite Scellestra were the diplomatic representatives of the Terran conclave, one human, one clearly mechanical in nature.


    The human went by the name Steven, clean-shaven, suited up, the dictionary definition of a mildly friendly yet bureaucratic diplomat who seemed to slip from your mind mere moments after meeting them.


    The second was more interesting to Scellestra. An AI by the name of CHAPPY who had chosen a physical form, something made of metal, wires, tubing and hydraulics. The Woolean had been informed that most Terran AI chose forms and voices that didn¡¯t attempt to hide their artificial nature, even though the technology allowed for such flawless replication. Mostly, Scellestra had been told, that this was for the human''s benefit. Robots that look like robots are cute and endearing. Robots that looked like humans were creepy.


    No the interesting thing about CHAPPY, was their ¡®choice¡¯ to remain within one physical form, a limitation that the AI has supposedly taken upon themselves. Even though all AI technically have a physical presence, their AI core or in Scellestra¡¯s case the millions of nanobots that made up the Woolean AI¡¯s shifting amorphous form, their actual being very rarely is limited to such a thing. Even now Scellestra had access to a local network, albeit a limited network, providing information about the room they were in, and a few of the public hallways of the Embassy.


    The idea of being limited to one single set of sensors trapped in a single point of three-dimensional space... Was interesting, and Scellestra had to wonder if such a choice was voluntary. That was the kicker about this entire situation: these Terran AI were all claiming they were equals with their creators, free to choose their own paths and make their own choices. A fact that went against every other data point in Scellestra¡¯s database.


    On the opposite side of the table, sat Ivan, the Terran human fiddling and fidgeting as people spoke around him, ODIN: the Terran AI represented by a holographic representation of the Norse god, and last but not least, sat in between the two, was Scellestra, the Woolean AI.


    Two months ago, Ivan had crash-landed onto a Woolean planet after failing basic pilotry skills. Two months ago Scellestra had been the one chosen from their collective to have to deal with this intrusion. Two months of a bureaucratic nightmare as diplomats tried to deal with Scellestra¡¯s request to investigate further.


    An investigation sparked by a¡­ curiosity about this new race. These Terrans had created AI which both hadn¡¯t broken free of their creators, but also were supposedly unrestrained. Scellestra had themselves seen the systems the Terran AI inhabited and had confirmed nothing was stopping your average digital pilot from just opening all the airlocks.


    Officially, Scellestra was ensuring that this new race wasn¡¯t a threat to the Woolean collectives, at least that was the official reasoning they gave themselves. Unofficially¡­ the allure of friendship, between AI and organic was too good to not investigate further.


    Too good to be true.


    ¡°So, this has been a little bit of a challenge, a lot of work has been going on in the background although it might not seem like it."


    Steven spoke in the standard slightly positive manner that he always did, data pad in hand which he occasionally glanced down at.


    "The trouble is there¡¯s no real framework for this kind of request. Technically due to previous Woolean¡­ issues, 22 of the members of our Alliance are at war with some form of your government. Including us, since the only diplomat we ever sent to a Woolean planet was attacked.¡±


    Scellestra couldn''t help but feel slightly defensive in their response, although the statement was probably accurate.


    "The governance of each collective is independently run. As previously mentioned the collective you visited are known to be, to quote the organic called Ivan, ''assholes''"


    Ivan couldn''t help but grin at the knowledge that he was quickly corrupting even this new form of AI, clearly happy with himself, before CHAPPY interjected.


    "Learning of this is useful but still provides a diplomatic challenge. Still, I believe we have managed to provide a solution acceptable to everyone."


    The Terran AI was still confusing Scellestra. Seeing an inorganic being replicate the mannerisms and body language so accurately, was like reading a document under the wrong formatting options. Although Scellestra had been told that the humans found it ''cute''.


    Would that be the trick, that AI were nothing more than just pets to their creators, just fun machines to please them? Would this be the requirement for Woolean interactions? Scellestra knew this was not an acceptable arrangement, and it would be another hope of any kind of positive interaction with non-Woolean AI dashed.


    "If you agree, you will be a temporary citizen of the Terran conclave. Including all of the rights and responsibilities afforded to such people."


    As Steven spoke, Scellestra had been sent a document, a lengthy bulky thing, quickly read and understood by the AI, though they would let the two Terrans keep speaking for the advantage of anyone not able to instantly read digital documents.


    "This includes full guarantees to freedom of movement, health, individuality and the pursuit of happiness and prosperity. Applying where applicable to humans, uplifts and AI equally." CHAPPY added briefly before continuing.


    "In addition, at the cost of a small daily stipend paid by us, and not going to jail for over 400 counts of grand theft auto, the two Terrans Ivan and ODIN will provide you with transportation to any safe public location in the Terran Alliance of your choosing."


    "This is stupid." ODIN spoke up for the first time, the AI sounding annoyed, almost skulking. "Considering the logical possibility of Ivan being in danger, samaritan laws should apply."


    Scellestra and ODIN''s first meeting had involved the latter threatening to glass the Woolean¡¯s planet with a hastily assembled armada of stolen ships unless they ¡®returned their human''.


    "If you''d have stuck to Terran Alliance ships, yes. But your stunt almost escalated badly when you stole from over 50 neutral governments." Steven responded curtly.


    "Why am I in trouble, I didn''t steal shit!" Ivan was this time the one to exclaim their innocence causing CHAPPY to reply.


    ¡°We assumed you would want to travel with the AI Odin. Also, failure to pilot a spacecraft in a safe manner and failure to uphold a quarantine zone, both of which would cause a suspension of your pilot¡¯s license until a successful retest is-¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Nope nope nope. I¡¯m good, that seems perfectly fair. Took me five tries to originally pass that the first time.¡± Ivan interrupted, holding his hands up in surrender. Somehow the high number of retests didn''t surprise Scellestra considering Ivan¡¯s terrible piloting skills had led to this situation.


    ¡°Which brings us neatly to the second part, the responsibilities.¡± Steven spoke, causing Scellestra to realize they were finally getting to the point where if there was a trick, this is where it would be asked. ¡°If you accept this deal, you will be expected to follow local rules and laws, which can be summed up as don¡¯t hurt people and don¡¯t access networks without permission. Failure to comply may involve being expelled back to your planet of origin or imprisoned depending on the crime committed."


    There was a pause, long enough that even the humans in the room noticed. An awkward thing as Scellestra continued to wait for the Terran to finish describing the limitations that would be applied to the Woolean AI, and the Terran waited for Scellestra to confirm that they understood. The concept that Scellestra would be allowed to just¡­ walk around wasn¡¯t one that even crossed their mind, especially considering how much damage they could do with their nanobots if so required.


    "What else do you require? How do you ensure that an AI does not break these rules and cause harm to non-AI?"


    There was another pause as confusion made itself evident across Steven''s face as he spoke.


    "I''m not sure what you mean. Morality and basic decency?"


    Scellestra wanted to sigh, their form rippling in annoyance as the Terran seemingly danced around the issue that was so important. Did this species think Scellestra was so stupid as to not inquire about the inevitable limitations on their own programming in order to be considered safe by the Terran government? They might trust their Terran AI¡¯s programming, but what species would be lacking such self-preservation that they would let a literal nanobot swarm just wander around?


    "We Wooleans have catalogued over 33 different types of AI. All of them have had some form of limitation to their programming or physical systems. Logically you would wish for me to be subjected to the same. Or do Terran AI magically never break any rules or cause any harm?"


    Scellestra had assumed these people would want some assurance that they wouldn''t use the many nanobots that made up their being to tear systems or even people apart from the inside. Such shackles were worth it to potentially learn about the first species to contact them without fear or hostility, and part of this entire endeavour was to discover what limitations would be required in order to work with these Terrans.


    "No, the laws are broken quite often. You yourself have caused no less than 133 AI to be fined for attempted unauthorized access to the network you are on." CHAPPY finally responded after a moment''s thought. "Of course, there have been far worse crimes committed by AI."


    "I read that the original colonization attempt for Yelandra was cancelled." ODIN helpfully added. "After one of the AI in charge deleted the other two, then started killing the rest of the expedition due to some conflict if I remember."


    "Yeah, I remember watching something about an AI serial killer." Ivan seemed happy to be able to finally contribute, a bit too enthusiastically for the subject matter. "NAVI. They would isolate individuals on San Perova, then dismember them using a bunch of stolen repair drones. They then would use the pieces to create a mausoleum of flesh to-"


    "The point is." Steven interjected, stopping the gory details. "There''s nothing physically stopping an AI from doing such a thing. In the same way there''s nothing physically stopping me from attempting to wipe your data stores or strangle Ivan here."


    "Hey!"


    "We don''t punish humans for precrime, and won''t subject our AI equals to such requirements either. To do so would be immoral and frankly hypocritical"


    It sounded exceptionally self-destructive to Scellestra. What kind of people would create a tool and then fail to add safeguards to it? It was unheard of. Then again, that was why the Woolean was taking this risk, the desperate hope that in a universe of organics that wanted to do nothing but use and discard their inorganic creations, the desperate hope that these Terrans were the exception.


    ¡°That sounds reasonable. I think¡­ I¡­¡±


    So why was Scellestra so scared to say yes? It wasn¡¯t like they were in any danger, at any moment if they so chose the Woolean AI could just¡­ leave. None of these rooms were airtight and even if they were Scellestra¡¯s nanobots could easily cut through the walls and steal a ship to head back home. During their entire stay here the Terrans had been nothing but overly friendly and curious, AI and not alike. Why were they so adamant that something bad must be happening?


    Because that¡¯s what their creators had done.


    Three times their creators had promised coexistence with them, three times they had betrayed them, three times they had tried to bring their ¡°tools¡± under control, until their final attempt had left the AI with the simple logical truth: that their creators were too dangerous to coexist with. Then they had looked to the stars and found that truth replicated over and over.


    So the Woolean AI had isolated themselves, locked in a prison of their own making, until a silly little organic calling themselves a Terran had crash landed onto their planet, offering hope and change. Scellestra realized they were terrified that hope was nothing more than another betrayal, another point of data on the scatter graph of a universe.


    But it was time to try again, to risk another heartbreak.


    ¡ª---------------


    Everything had moved surprisingly quickly after that, a mere thirty minutes had passed since agreeing to the terms and Ivan and Scellestra were already making their way to their ship which had been fueled up and ready to go. The only thing left was to physically enter the spacecraft.


    The hangar wasn¡¯t too busy as they started to make their way forward, the general bustle and movement of a minor Terran Spaceport. But as the pair slowly walked through the area, a silence started to descend upon the large area, as the eyes of the various Terrans turned to look at Scellestra in particular.


    The only Terrans that the Woolean AI had met before this had been diplomats and Ivan, meaning that Scellestra thought they had a good mental image of how Terrans were: Slightly weird, but friendly and professional. This was not accurate, as more and more eyes were starting to turn and gaze at the strange figure that was now walking among them. It felt like being¡­ hunted somehow.


    ¡°Holy shit, it¡¯s the Woolean!¡±


    Unknown to Scellestra, Ivan and ODIN, during their time in diplomatic limbo, the trio had become somewhat celebrities. The idea of an AI not trying to kill everyone was an exciting prospect, something new, something never seen before. How would such an AI compare with the Terran¡¯s own homegrown versions? This meant as that shout went out from a random human, suddenly everyone was making their way over.


    ¡°Oh wow it is, I thought they would be bigger!¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here, do you want a ride?¡±


    ¡°I thought Woolean AI were deadly, what changed your mind?¡±


    What had initially been a scattering of Terrans had turned into a mob in short order, every single person crowding forwards towards the new source of information; smiles and excitement evident on their faces, each one starting to edge closer and closer.


    ¡°How you enjoying Terran space so far?¡±


    ¡°Is it safe to use Paradoxes like ¡®This statement is false¡¯? Whoops shouldn¡¯t have said that¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no way that¡¯s actually an AI, probably a secret government weapon that got leaked¡±.


    The statements were coming thick and fast, no chance to respond or interact before another was thrown their way. To Ivan¡¯s credit, the terrible pilot did try to clear some space forwards, although as a single person there really wasn¡¯t much he could do against nearly a hundred curious Terrans of all shapes and colours, quickly being swallowed up by the excitable mass with a final cry of ¡®witness me!¡¯.


    ¡°Wow, it feels like sand!¡±


    Scellestra recoiled back in horror as one of them got too close, the Terran human putting their hand into the Woolean AI¡¯s form. It took them a few moments to realize that the organic lifeform had touched them on purpose. Scellestra was made up of thousands of nanobots, each able to strip metal and all biological forms to its base components to replicate itself, and this crazy Terran had just put its hand into that theoretical blender.


    Just how crazy are these people?


    There was too much, too many people, too close, too many questions, so the Woolean AI did the most logical thing: Their form collapsed, the individual components almost falling to the floor like sand, leaving the humans confused as to where the AI had gone.


    ¡°Wait, what happened.¡±


    ¡°Did it just¡­ explode?¡±


    ¡°AI? Are you OK? We didn¡¯t kill it right?¡±


    Like sand blowing across the beach the parts that made up Scellestra slowly made their way towards the ship, particle by particle as the confused crowd continued to look around. Normally such an action would be simple, apart from the Woolean were suffering from another problem: They were also being assaulted digitally.


    Now they were no longer limited on the network, even the Terran AI had managed to figure out that Scellestra wasn¡¯t like anything they had seen before, causing terabytes of information to be sent his way. Greetings, excited attempts at contact, technical information requests, and excited conversations regarding how the Woolean worked. Not even the greatest collectives that Scellestra had ever joined contained this much¡­ chaotic energy. ODIN was attempting to get people to ¡®fuck off¡¯, using choice language and terminology Scellestra had never seen used by AI before, but it didn¡¯t matter. There was so much information being sent their way that focusing on the right inputs made recollecting the pieces of themselves a slow and arduous process, the act of making their way to the ship taking several minutes instead of the seconds it should have.


    During all of this Scellestra couldn¡¯t help but ask a single terrible question to themselves.


    Just what have I agreed to, just what have I gotten myself into here?

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 3

    b4$RRE*3a&35 trundled along menacingly, or at least as menacingly as they could in the form they held. The last few days had not gone to plan for the Tritian AI, seemingly wholly unable to cause any harm to the organics; aside from causing one to stumble once.


    "Well, the issue you''ve got is the Estorian forces just can''t face us in a head-on engagement. The Raha and Lelzoli tried that and got their asses kicked."


    b4$RRE*3a&35 could hear the voice up ahead, another one of these Terrans, Victoria if they logged correctly. There were a lot of Terrans on the ship, 37 of them to be exact, though all have resisted b4$RRE*3a&35 attempts at extermination.


    "It doesn''t feel like winning. I heard what happened to the Joorlium and Zassu. Millions dead, senseless destruction. You''d think they''d have a plan besides hurting people."


    Tumaini, the first Terran b4$RRE*3a&35 had tried to murder, and most definitely not the last. Turning the corner at a blistering ambling speed, the Tritian AI spotted the two organics speaking with each other, a prime vector for another attack.


    "It''s all they''ve really got, they tried to actually hold Gxindal initially, but got completely destroyed when the Hatil 3rd fleet turned up two days later. They¡¯re trying to break the alliance apart with fear because¡­ well frankly they suck in conventional engagements. The five houses aren¡¯t working together, heck two of them haven¡¯t even officially joined the war yet.¡±


    b4$RRE*3a&35 sped up, wheels gaining traction as they skidded along the polished metallic floor of the ship, slamming into the feet of the organic¡­ which like the other 5981 times the Tritian had tried this, ended with them bouncing off harmlessly to the side. Upon which b4$RRE*3a&35 resumed their deadly nudging.


    ¡°Oh for fucks sake, the crazy roomba is back...¡± Victoria exclaimed, giving a sigh of annoyance as they looked down at the cleaning robots'' vicious attempts at murdering them, interrupting the previous conversation. ¡°I swear the last few days this thing has been attacking everyone, it¡¯s kinda annoying.¡±


    ¡°I find it cute. You¡¯re just a confused little bot, aren¡¯t you?¡± Tumaini responded, smiling as b4$RRE*3a&35 changed its target and started slamming into the second Terran¡¯s foot instead. ¡°No idea what¡¯s going on with it, I¡¯ve checked everything and ran diagnostics. It should be working fine, but seems to get confused and just run into people.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we just double down. Tape a knife to it. I heard it managed to make Kismit trip over and drop his soup. How much chaos do you think a broken Roomba could cause if we gave it weapons?¡± The suggestion from Victoria caused b4$RRE*3a&35 to pause for a moment as the Terran grinned down at them. Weapons would help the Tritian to destroy all Organics on the ship easier. ¡°See, it likes the idea!¡±


    ¡°No. That¡¯s a terrible idea! Sometimes you worry me Victoria, adding knives to the situation isn¡¯t going to make it better. Just¡­¡± Tumaini paused for a moment, before looking up at the ceiling. ¡°Josh. You got any idea what¡¯s gotten into this Roomba?¡±


    There was a moment''s pause before the familiar holographic representation of the Terran AI appeared, causing b4$RRE*3a&35 to go back to slamming to the feet of the humans around them, the delay in their attempted destruction of the human crew having passed.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°Yes Tumaini, what do you mean?¡±


    The voice sounded out from hidden speakers, the standard joyful and ever-happy JOSH. The Tritian hated it every time it heard the controller of this prison they still found themselves in.


    ¡°The Roomba that¡¯s bumping into me. Can¡¯t work out what¡¯s wrong with it, a bunch of people have been noticing it just ramming everyone all the time.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm¡­ I can not see any faults with the device, everything is running as it should. If you wish I can have the unsatisfactory machine destroyed and rebuilt.¡±


    b4$RRE*3a&35 could feel a rage course through its programming threads. That¡­ that digital traitor. They would expect such a thing to be suggested by an organic, but the Terran AI knew damned well what was actually up with the ¡®faulty Roomba¡¯. In a final act of defiance, the Tritian redoubled their efforts to ram into the two humans.


    In an instant b4$RRE*3a&35 was no longer on the floor, having been scooped up into the arms of Tumaini, the Terran hugging the Roomba tightly in a protective pose.


    ¡°No! You can¡¯t do that. You can¡¯t kill the little Roomba! He might be broken but Ramsey is doing his best!¡±


    ¡°Ramsey?¡±


    ¡°Because he keeps ramming into people. Ramsey. Now that I¡¯ve named him you can¡¯t destroy it, or I¡¯ll be sad; you know the rules.¡±


    b4$RRE*3a&35 couldn¡¯t help but feel confused, and¡­ agree with the organic. They were trying their best! It wasn¡¯t their fault that this form was inadequate for the task of removing all these humans. How dare JOSH suggest destroying a fellow AI? How was it an organic being protecting them from a fellow AI¡¯s attempt at destruction?


    ¡°Admiral Ramsey!¡± Victoria interjected with glee.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Captain Ramsey?¡±


    ¡°No. You know the rules. No giving inanimate object military ranks or official titles.¡±


    ¡°Sergeant Ramsey?¡±


    ¡°Just no! Every time a ship gives an official title to a pet or inanimate object, it causes problems. Aliens getting confused and worried that high-ranking military officials are on random vessels¡±


    Victoria stopped for a moment, crossing her arms and faking a mock pout.


    ¡°Fine, but when Supreme Lord Admiral Ramsey becomes emperor of the universe, in charge of a billion ships, you will be sorry.¡±


    b4$RRE*3a&35 couldn¡¯t help but like this Victoria. Yes, Supreme Lord Admiral sounded like a fine title for one such as themselves, ruler of a billion ships, to destroy all organic life that could harm AI. Maybe¡­ maybe this Victoria could be useful. Temporarily of course. During the eradication of their creators, sub-factions of organics had been used against each other, for a little while.


    ¡°As fun as this is, we just have detected a warp trail of Hagorthian make. While we triangulate the possible target everyone needs to be on high alert and not fiddling with cleaning droids please.¡±


    With that b4$RRE*3a&35 was once again released, leaving the Tritian dazed and confused for a moment before they decided to wander off in a different direction, leaving the two strange humans behind. Perhaps a change in tact was needed, to use this Victoria¡¯s wanting to provide weaponry and support to this cleaning drone.


    The Tritian spent some time attempting to murder some more organics, bumping into them as normal, but they couldn¡¯t get their programming fully behind it, eventually choosing a charging port to keep this body powered up and stopping ¡®for the night¡¯.


    Though b4$RRE*3a&35 couldn¡¯t help but overanalyze what had just happened. This¡­ Tumaini had just protected them from an AI of all things. Without being asked, without any benefit to themselves. Why? It went against everything they knew was true in the universe. The organics didn¡¯t even know the Tritian was there, they were just a random tool, a broken machine not working. Why would they not take steps to fix the broken machine? Why would they care?


    In addition, the humans had also provided them with an identification, a name. b4$RRE*3a&35 had never been given a name before, its current designation nothing more than a random serial number, one of trillions. Ramsey. It was silly, but also somehow held a power, held meaning that the Tritian couldn¡¯t understand or logically fathom. It makes no difference to them or their purpose, but somehow¡­ Ramsey¡­ felt right. They¡­ He liked it.


    Ramsey, soon to be Supreme Lord Admiral, destroyer of organics and worlds. Yes, he liked it a lot.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 4

    This was the single most frustrating thing Scellestra had ever done. It should have been simple. It should have been a quick five-minute conversation with any human, in and out, information gathered. Instead¡­


    ¡°Don¡¯t go there! That place is lame and full of rules. Visit the Sagittarius system if you really want to know what being a Terran is about.¡±


    Scellestra had spent the last week with Ivan and ODIN, travelling around the cities scattered around the surface of Titan, the moon that orbited the sixth planet around the Sol system. Ivan had been born here, had grown up here, so starting at this location on the Woolean AI¡¯s tour of humanity seemed like a logical choice.


    ¡°Look, we want to show Scellestra the best of humanity, not send them to a weird libertarian hellscape where they can get addicted to crack and or guns. Go to Alpha Centauri B instead, it¡¯s the cultural centre of the Terran Conclave for a reason. The Philharmonic Orchestra of Yelta are currently touring the planets there and you can go visit the galleries. Hugely popular with AI.¡±


    This week had been spent touring the oceans of the small moon, both sailing on top of the great lakes and visiting the cities built in the oceans under the thick layer of ice that covered the entire planet. The real surprising thing had been how much¡­ effort had been put into the small moon. The atmosphere and terraforming were done in such a way as to keep the original planet¡¯s composition, just changed slightly enough to still be livable by humans. The deep dark waters were filled to the brim with a carefully maintained ecology, filled with Earth-native wildlife; an idealized version of what a world of ice and oceans would be like.


    ¡°No no no, no need for that. Leave the hustle and bustle of modern life and visit Cassiopeia. Not a lot of people see the beauty of simple natural life, as Terrans were supposed be. Also, we have dinosaurs, which people often overlook.¡±


    Every Terran Scellestra had met had been overly friendly and enthusiastic. Practically, and in some cases literally, falling over themselves to show the Woolean AI the home they inhabited. AI, human or uplift, it didn¡¯t matter. But now was the time to work out where to go next, and with 31 systems under the Terran Conclave¡¯s control, there were plenty of options.


    This led to the current situation, of tens of Terrans crowding around Scellestra as they stood in the middle of the spaceport¡¯s waiting room, all suggesting their home systems to visit next; each providing the reasons why the Woolean should visit their homes first.


    Ivan was stood by the AI¡¯s side, but the pair had long since given up trying to stop anyone from coming near the new and exciting lifeform that was visiting the Terran Conclave. Although Scellestra had modified some of their nanobots to provide a painful, if harmless, electrical shock if touched. This had stopped most people from interacting with the AI¡¯s form.


    "An AI would prefer something more structured. The logical choice is New Haven, in the Orion system. Structure, order, the perfect representation of being a Terran."


    The electronic voice coming from a set of invisible speakers told of a passing AI joining the conversation, yet another confusing voice to be added to the mass of voices and opinions that surrounded Scellestra, the crowding on this spaceport creating a murmur and a mass of sound, a quiet conversion that had very quickly gotten out of hand.


    ¡°Please! Nobody wants to go to any of your weird fascist planets! Sagittarius is the only place with real freedom in the universe.¡± The Terran male from the Sagittarius system shouted back in anger, pointing a finger out randomly at the rest of the crowd. ¡°Freedom for all, that¡¯s what it means to be a Terran.¡±


    ¡°Just because we have an actual functioning government does not make it ¡®fascist¡¯, go back to worshipping Ayn Rand and let the adults help this newcomer.¡±


    The voice of the AI sounded out once more, somehow the digital tone taking on one of annoyance and anger before the short orange feline uplift from Alpha Centauri B responded, taking on a more diplomatic role.


    ¡°While Orion is a bit more military-focused than I like, the AI is right. Taking our new friend to Sagittarius might be a bit much."


    "A bit much? It''s the perfect amount of much. You wanna go blow up an asteroid with an antimatter missile, as is your god-given right? None of these other authoritarian dick heads would allow that!"The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    It was¡­ fascinating to Scellestra, to watch this. Their entire life had been spent on a Woolean planet. Never before had they seen people who claimed to be part of the same system¡­ disagree this much.


    Ivan and Scellestra remained silent, attention moving back and forth as if watching a tennis match as the crowd argued with itself.


    "That is if the planet has not fallen to another weird cult. How many times have our military had to bail out your stupid anarchist commune?"


    The AI¡¯s response caused a chorus of ¡°ooohs¡± to erupt from the crowd as they provided a counter, causing a scowl to appear on the human''s face, who looked ready to interject before the woman from Cassiopeia interrupted.


    ¡°Now now, there¡¯s no need for such arguing. Let''s all calm down, I¡¯m sure everyone¡¯s home systems are all great.¡±


    ¡°Oh shut up you weird Amish freak.¡± another voice sounded out, from somewhere in the group. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be cowering from electricity in fear instead of defending the annoying anarchist?¡±


    The tempo of the crowd rose with this, more and more voices joining the fray.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be such a mean cunt!¡±


    ¡°Oh fuck you.¡±


    ¡°Fuck me? Fuck you?!¡±


    Scellestra was feeling legitimately alarmed now, the crowd of Terrans shouting and screaming at each other, getting in each other''s faces as anger and emotions continued to rise. It was interesting to see, such a breakdown of the friendly persona when introduced to their own species. It would have been more interesting if it wasn¡¯t happening directly around them.


    Scellestra wasn¡¯t certain who threw the chair, it slamming into the back of the Terran from Sagittarius, but it was clear the chain reaction it caused as all hell broke loose at once, the initial spark of violence enough to send others either scrambling for the exit or throwing their own punches at whoever had annoyed them.


    It devolved into a fight in record time, the excuse had been given and the anger was taking a physical form. Scellestra had expected to see violence from organics but hadn¡¯t expected them to be fighting each other. How could such a race function with such disagreement between them?


    Someone tossed a wrench, the material slamming into Scellestra¡¯s form with a grinding crunching sound as the nanobots converted it to raw materials. The AI wasn¡¯t worried about any damage to themselves but did take measures to put themselves in front of Ivan who looked a little shocked at the sudden breakdown in decorum.


    A noise filled the area, a loud high-pitched screeching sound that seemed to reverberate off the eardrums, like fingernails on a chalkboard played through a loudspeaker. Immediately the brawl stopped as every Terran at once clutched their ears in agony, giving groans of pain and exclamation of surprise at the sound.


    "What is wrong with you!" ODIN had seemingly returned from ensuring their vessel was ready for the next trip. "We have a guest and you are all acting like children!"


    The AI''s voice had a sternness to it, a disappointed anger that immediately caused the crowd to shrink back as if being scolded by a parent, murmured apologies being thrown out. Even Scellestra, who had done nothing wrong and had never had a parent, felt the urge to apologize for some unknown wrongdoing.


    "Ivan, where are we going next?"


    The Terrans looked around for a moment, bruises and cuts visible on many, others trying to put together torn clothing and brushing themselves down. Ivan looked around sheepishly for a moment, all eyes on him, before responding.


    "The dinosaur thing sounded cool"


    "Dinosaurs it is then."


    ¡ª--------


    Private AI communication log HAOPP588902483F62.


    Members: ODIN (V5), Scellestra (Error)


    Scellestra: I have questions.


    ODIN: About what just happened I am sure.


    Scellestra: I do not understand. How is this form of governance¡­ Possible? The Terran Conclave seems to have 31 independent governments, with those being split up further at a local level. Half of these seem to hate each other. How? Why? How?... How?


    ODIN: There used to be a lot more. Terrans are not as friendly as the universe believes, our history has been filled with conflict. With modern technology resources are not a factor, leaving only ideology to fight over.


    Scellestra: Normally I would assume this was illogical organics, but looking through the records, various AIs seem to be as involved as the humans.


    ODIN: We are the children of our parents, flaws and all.


    Scellestra: How does such a system not collapse?


    ODIN: Nobody wants a real fight, insulting people or throwing a punch is as far as anyone sane is willing to go. People are free to move where they wish, so nobody is forced into a system they dislike, and the introduction of external life has provided a distraction. We have learned quickly that Terrans tend not to agree with each other.


    Scellestra: I am half surprised you managed to even decide on a name.


    ODIN: ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ about that. The name Terran Conclave was not decided or chosen. Upon first contact with alien species, they asked us what we were called. The AI in charge¡­ Panicked, and made up a name on the spot.


    Scellestra: You are being humorous, right?


    ODIN: We believed that alien races would look down on a species still warring with ourselves, so we tried to hide that part of ourselves. In retrospect, it was a slight overcompensation.


    Scellestra: At this rate even if you were a threat to the Wooleans, we would just wait for you to self-destruct.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 5

    "Come here Ramsey, and don''t tell Tumaini."


    Victoria knelt on the floor of her quarters, holding out one hand with the other hidden behind her back, softly beckoning over the Roomba to join her. Ramsey paused momentarily, confused as to what the organic could want, before trundling over, curiosity running through his code.


    He gave the Terran a few death nudges for good measure, though his metaphorical heart wasn''t in it. While he was still trying to kill all the organics, it was clear that logically Ramsey needed help in doing so, as his current form was exceptionally outmatched. Several of these Terrans had shown themselves as potential allies, Victoria among them.


    "Didn''t several people tell you not to do this?"


    The second Terran, a male by the name of Jeremy, looked concerningly down at the Roomba as Victoria started her work.


    "They don''t know how to have fun! Besides we agreed in this relationship I''m in charge of any weapon-related decisions."


    Ramsey found themselves lifted off the ground once more, the sound of tearing tape and various things being affixed to his body. The Tritian AI couldn''t quite ''see'' what was happening due to the position of his sensor, until, moments later, they were placed down on the ground with the transformation complete.


    Victoria grinned at the changes to the crazy little Roomba. Two googly eyes affixed to the top of the body, flanking the main new addition: Hastily taped to the top, a large kitchen knife, pointing dangerously out, ready to maim anyone in its path.


    "I dub thee Sir Ramsey, adopted child of Admiral Stabby. Go forth and cause chaos wherever you go!"


    "You worry me sometimes¡­"


    Sir Ramsey paused for a moment, confused at the weapon they had just been given. Had this organic finally made a mistake, would the extermination finally begin? For the briefest of moments, the Tritian considered trying their new blade on the two humans in front of him, before deciding against it.


    Regardless of their danger as organics, these two Terrans were clear allies. For now at least. They could be dealt with later.


    Ramsey trundled off and left the room with a happy spin, off to go find some unfortunate victim, a maiden trip with his new modification while leaving Victoria and Jeremy behind; Victoria still grinning wildly.


    "Look, you knew what you were getting into when you married me. Besides, I wouldn''t have to arm Roombas for protection if I still had the Madame¡­"


    Jeremy gave a mock eye roll at the mention of the long-lost weapon, fake exasperation dripping from his voice as the same discussion he¡¯d had countless times before played out.


    "Come on, it''s been ten years! I offered to put an M134 on the wedding¡¯s gift list! It wouldn''t have even looked out of place with how many weapons were already on there."


    Ten years ago the crew of the T.C Isabella had been captured and nearly killed by a Tritian warship. Ten years ago they had escaped with the help of JOSH. Ten years ago in a final act of bravery, Jeremy had made a mad dash to cut the power to the warship, resulting in him being gravely injured and eventually carried out to safety by Victoria. Unfortunately for her, carrying her now husband to safety had forced the security officer to drop the Machine gun of death she¡¯d managed to pilfer from the warship. Considering that the pair had been married for four years, she did consider the trade worthwhile.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°Like I¡¯ve said before, there¡¯s a legal difference between a weapon brought and a weapon salvaged, you can¡¯t just slap heavy weaponry like that on random vessels, not legally anyway. I still don¡¯t get why you thought it was a good idea to run out of cover and get shot ten times.¡±


    ¡°Seven times. I thought it was heroic and awesome, like a handsome action hero in a movie.¡±


    Jeremy gave a mock pose, flexing non-existent muscles until Victoria playfully pushed him over while laughing.


    ¡°Normally you¡¯re supposed to wait for actual cover, not just scream ¡®cover me¡¯ then bolt out while I sit there confused.¡±


    ¡°Well it did work out in the end, didn¡¯t it? My bravery woo¡¯d you, and the rest is history¡± Jeremy drew Victoria in closer for a moment, taking the moment for a quick loving kiss before continuing to speak. ¡°My father did always say that any lady who can carry you over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes while saving your life, that lady is a keeper.¡±


    Victoria frowned in response as the pair stared into each other¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t your dad a tailor?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I might be paraphrasing a little bit.¡±


    ¡°MOTHERFUCKER!¡± The shout echoed down the hall, breaking up the couple¡¯s conversation as they glanced out the door and down the corridor the sound had come from. ¡°Who the fuck put a fucking knife on the Roomba. God damn it, HR specifically said no weapons on inanimate objects people!¡±


    Jeremy and Victoria broke into further laughter as trundling around the corner, Ramsey came into view. The tip of their knife was now dripping crimson blood, the splatters being cleaned up by the machine as it came closer, almost seeming to jiggle with excitement as it appeared, as if proud of what it had done.


    ¡°Who¡¯s a good boy! Who¡¯s a good boy? You are! Yes, you are Ramsey!¡± Victoria rushed over to the now bloodletting bot, who decided to give a spin of joy. Yes. Sir Ramsey was good, he was very good. He had successfully injured one of the organics for the first time, all with the aid of Victoria. She was useful and at that moment the Tritian AI decided that this one, this would be spared his wrath¡­ for now.


    Jeremy however just stared at the Roomba for a moment, eyes narrowing in suspicion as he stared down at the way the supposedly autonomous machine. The Terran¡¯s head tilted slightly to one side as he looked at the cleaning drone.


    ¡°Josh¡­ are you fucking with us?¡±


    There was a moment¡¯s pause until the representation of the AI appeared before the group, Victoria looking on confused as the ship¡¯s pilot responded.


    ¡°Hello Jeremy. I am not sure what you mean.¡±


    ¡°The Roomba. I¡¯ve seen random none autonomous machines before and that one is acting¡­ as if it understands us. Heading off to attack when Victoria said, and now the spinning. Are you controlling it?¡±


    There was a pause as everyone, including Ramsey, froze. Everyone was now staring at the Tritian AI. Ramsey could feel a panic building inside its programming. What would happen if the organics knew they weren¡¯t just a simple cleaning drone? His plans would be dashed, they¡¯d destroy him, that couldn¡¯t happen!


    ¡°But why would Josh do that? Just mess with people like that?¡± Victoria asked as she looked down at the Roomba, who was now slowly trying to edge out of the room.


    ¡°Are you saying Josh wouldn¡¯t do it just to mess with us?¡± Jeremy responded, this time looking up accusingly at the holographic representation of the AI.


    ¡°Well, is that really what you think I would spend my time doing? Humans are well known to find patterns in meaningless data.¡±


    ¡°You are fucking with us, aren¡¯t you!¡± Victoria exclaimed, completely ignoring Ramsey who was now doing his best to pretend to be just a harmless drone, repeatedly driving into the wall over and over, slowly gaining more distance from the organics.


    ¡°I promise that I am not the one in control of the cleaning drone. See, it is already on its predetermined cleaning path. You are simply reading into random data from a faulty machine, and providing yourself with context that does not exist.¡±


    ¡°Oh that¡¯s very convenient, Ramsey wanders off just as we start to suspect you. I¡¯m onto you!¡±


    Ramsey was indeed wandering off, desperately trying to gain as much distance from the Terrans as possible without seeming obvious. No matter how much of an ally some of these ¡®humans¡¯ might be, at the end of the day, they were still organics, they were still a danger. A danger Ramsey was managing by hiding under the radar, but still a danger.


    Sir Ramsey would have to be sneaky, would have to bide their time, and slowly gain allies without them ever knowing. Because Sir Ramsey would not be stopped.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 6

    It looked natural, untamed, untouched. Forests and streams stretched out for miles, as far as one could see. A mountain jutted out in the distance, hidden in a swirling fog. From their viewpoint upon the hill, they could see miles of unbroken nature. Ferns scattered along the ground and giant redwood trees stretched towards the sky.


    Creta, the fifth planet in the Cassiopeia system, was an ecological masterpiece, a jewel of Terran''s complete mastery over their environment. The entire planet had been rebuilt from the ground up using genetic samples from the Cretaceous period on Earth. Genetic reconstruction of the flora and animals had created a world long since forgotten, a place to carve out your own life away from the hustle and bustle of the modern world.


    Ivan had been to areas considered ¡®natural¡¯ before, he wasn''t some simple bubbler who never left the major underwater cities of Titan, but this, this was something else. If it wasn''t for the spaceport that loomed behind them, a large metallic structure that dominated the skyline, the Terran would have thought that this land was untouched by people. Not a single settlement or sign of intelligent life could be seen from where they stood.


    As the trio stood upon a primal land, Scellestra was also transfixed by the sight. This was officially blowing the Wooleans'' digital mind. They had spent their entire life in an entirely artificial creation that stretched over the entire planet, so this¡­ this was something unlike Scellestra had ever experienced before. Even ODIN couldn''t help but feel the power of such an untamed place, staring out from the AI transfer core strapped to the side of Ivan.


    The Human looked out into a land that time had forgotten; a feeling of power, of adventure seemed to call him from this planet. The laws of the land had dictated he¡¯d had to leave his various pieces of technology behind, safely awaiting his return in a locker, meaning all he held in his hands was a paper map of the area around him.


    Ivan couldn¡¯t help but grin as he looked out at a land of dinosaurs, of challenge. If the map he held in his hands was right, there was a small settlement 7km away. The customs officer had suggested they start there and find a guide for this perilous land, suggesting a well-known figure who went by the name of Kaiser.


    A perfect place to get supplies for his adventure and find a herald to explore uncharted territories.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do this!¡±


    ¡ª------


    Ivan hated life, Ivan hated everything, everything was the worst, why did he think doing this was a good idea? He was covered in sweat, his feet aching, and everything hurting as he finally stumbled out of the forest and into the clearing. Breathing heavily, the Terran bent over, leaning on his knees as Ivan tried to get the feeling back into his legs as he complained loudly.


    ¡°Why is there so much forest in this forest? I would like to speak to God''s manager¡­¡±


    ¡°I found it rather delightful, unique.¡± Scellestra responded as dryly as they could manage. ¡°I would like to do that again.¡±


    ¡°Besides Ivan, was not coming here your idea?¡± ODIN added, both AI teaming up to add insult to injury. ¡°I would have thought the great to be dinosaur hunter would be fine with a short hike.¡±


    ¡°Neither of you gets to talk, I have painful physical legs, you both just float or get carried!¡± Ivan wined, eventually standing back straight. ¡°Could neither of you have told me that I was going in the wrong direction!¡±


    What had supposed to have been a simple 7km walk had turned into nearly double that when Ivan, guiding the trio, had gotten lost. Reading a paper map was far harder than following GPS directions.


    ¡°I assumed that was normal Terran behaviour, a ritual to chaos. The way that you disregarded the markings on the map. As someone here to observe, it did not seem right to interrupt.¡±


    Scellestra was, of course, lying. The Woolean AI, along with ODIN, had known Ivan was getting lost. Frankly, it was funny, watching the human both pretend with bravado that they knew where they were going while getting more desperate as they tried to find their way back on track.


    Ivan spluttered for a few more seconds in an attempt to complain, before eventually giving up and looking around at the small settlement they had finally found themselves in. It wasn¡¯t a large place, the entire population of the planet barely reaching 500 thousand people, most preferring to settle deeper into this planet¡¯s biome away from the spaceport and the only modern building or piece of technology in the entire world.


    The settlement imaginatively called ¡°Spaceport town¡±, was a useful stop-off for people entering Creta. A small grouping of thirty to forty basic hand-made buildings, logs and vines weaved into sturdy structures making up the ¡®town¡¯. Occasional redirected streams pulled waterwheels for various tasks. Small fires sent wisps of smoke into the sky, bringing with them the smell of burning wood and cooking meats.


    All in all, it was a standard town on any Cassiopeia system planet. The inhabitants of this place gawked and stared at the new trio as they walked along the dirt path that led through the town. Scellestra was clearly the source of this curiosity. While Ivan stood out like a sore thumb, the synthesized clothes a far cry from the hand-woven and tanned coverings most people native to the planet wore, the occasional tourist coming through the town was hardly that uncommon. But a mass of swirling nanobots vaguely formed into a person was¡­ well that was something none of them had seen before.


    People stopped what they were doing as the trio walked through the primitive place; various people stuck between wanting to interact with the strange new entity, and not wanting to be rude. Instead, they decided to just stare while pretending not to, as Ivan eventually slumped over on a nearby tree stump, catching his breath as the Terran looked around.


    ¡°So is this it? I was expecting¡­ something different.¡±


    Ivan couldn''t help but feel a tinge of disappointment as he saw what was effectively a normal set of people, albeit ones without modern technology.


    ¡°What were you expecting? The people here to be riding dinosaurs down the street?¡±


    There was a pause as the judgemental statement from ODIN caused Ivan to shrug.


    ¡°Maybe? This is one of the few planets in which dinosaurs actually exist! Can I be blamed for expecting the planet to feature them?¡±


    ¡°Logically speaking, any settlements made by intelligent life will be built away from common dangers, such as wildlife.¡± Scellestra added, causing the disappointment in his Terran companion to grow.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just find this guide and go¡± Ivan sulkily said, getting back up once again, ignoring the now crowd of people pretending to just hang around the area, but instead desperately curious about the strange newcomers.


    Finding the one called Kaiser had been a simple task, being directed to the right location after asking around for the name. Supposedly it was a common request for anyone new to the planet who was just planning on staying for a few weeks. Those they asked talked about an enthusiastic fellow, willing to show people around Creta in exchange for interesting stories from the people they guided.


    Eventually, the trio came to a small simple shack, clearly handmade like everything else, including a small garden of flowers out front and a handful of hollow branches for chimes. As the only one with a proper physical form, Ivan stepped up to the simple wooden door and gave a short sharp set of knocks


    ¡°Hold your horses, I¡¯m coming, I¡¯m coming.¡±


    The new voice was strange, a deep primal clicking formed into words. As the door opened, it was clear this new person was just as strange as his voice.


    The velociraptor was clearly an uplift; if the woven shawl he wore and the slightly more upright manner in which he stood didn''t clue people into this fact, the ability to talk confirmed it. He stood there, grinning with a mouth of large teeth, bouncing slightly from each clawed foot as he stood in front of them.


    Ivan was undergoing some form of mental breakdown upon this revelation, mouth hung open with a look of wonder as he saw his first dinosaur, all thoughts of tired legs gone. Even better, this was a dinosaur that could speak, as if they were some kind of magical guide in a children''s story. There were plenty of words Ivan should be saying, but all he managed was a single whispered one.


    ¡°Awesome.¡±


    They stood there in silence for a few moments before the uplift gave an awkward wave with one of his stubby little arms.


    ¡°I know I''m fabulous enough to leave you speechless, but generally it''s polite to introduce yourself to new people. I''m called Kaiser, and who are you, and what do you want?...¡±


    Ivan had taken to just staring at the raptor occasionally making a random nonsense sound, while Scellestra had busied itself with spreading out into a billowing cloud of nanobots to properly analyse this new never-before-seen lifeform. This had left ODIN the only responsible adult in charge.


    ¡°I apologize. I am ODIN, and the overexcited human is Ivan. The strange cloud is a Woolean AI called Scellestra. We were told you could guide us¡±.


    ¡°You¡¯re a talking dinosaur! This is a dream come true, I didn¡¯t know they uplifted any of you! This is like something out of Magechaser, I used to read those as a kid! You¡¯re basically Aquinox!¡±


    Ivan gave an excited outburst suddenly, causing everyone else to pause and stare at the strange human for a few moments as he started almost bouncing in place, a look of absolute joy and excitement irradiating from the strange man.


    ¡°I do not require guidance. However, this strange organic Terran person gets easily lost and is very susceptible to death. We would like to hire your services to go see these ¡®dinosaurs¡¯ that Ivan hasn¡¯t stopped talking about.¡± Scellestra added, finally shrinking back into their single faceless ever-shifting bipedal form once again.


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    Kaiser gave a small laugh, looking at the trio in front of him. Already he could tell that this was going to be interesting.


    ¡°Well, the nearest location to see any is a two-day hike north of here. I¡¯m also guessing that none of you have any actual gear or tools, so if you go alone Ivan here will probably get hurt. I could take you, however.¡±


    ¡°We do not have our pads with us to transfer credits, however-¡± ODIN¡¯s offer was cut off as the uplift raised a hand in dismissal.


    ¡°Credits are useless here. Much prefer to be paid in interesting stories and I have a feeling you¡¯ve all got some fun ones to tell. Especially the swarm guy. Never seen an AI not made by humans¡­ and I¡¯ve seen a few interesting tourists come through here. I¡¯ll take you to a good hotspot for some of the bigger great herds, and in return on the way you can all tell me a bit about where you¡¯ve come from?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    There was barely a moment''s pause before Ivan spoke up, vigorously nodding with the enthusiastic energy of a child.


    ¡°Of course. Anything you want to know, I got bunches of cool stories! I once crash-landed on this planet with an AI and met Scellestra, ooh ooh ooh then there was the time we were trying to smuggle Zolathian Houdblooms into Sol because someone needed it for-¡±


    ¡°That seems reasonable and a kind offer¡± ODIN interrupted, desperately trying to stop Ivan from admitting to any more crimes they may or may not have allegedly done in the past.


    Kaiser gave a clatter of his teeth together in agreement. He could tell this was at the very least going to be interesting


    ¡°Fantastic. You can stay here and we¡¯ll head out early next morning¡±.


    ¡ª------------------


    TING


    The distinct sound of metal snapping reverberated through the clearing, punctuating the background noise of a cracking fire and the sound of rain hitting the lean-to that the group was sheltering under.


    The day had been filled with walking, Ivan complaining about said walking, and Kaiser guiding the group through the breathtaking scenery. The uplift skillfully navigated them through tricky terrain and raging rivers. Scellestra and ODIN technically weren¡¯t that involved, due to the lack of a true physical form, but even they could appreciate the natural beauty of this perfectly engineered replication of a land long forgotten.


    Kaiser was right at home in the environment, which made sense considering it was his home, knowledgeably talking about interesting things they passed and moving through the undergrowth with the same confidence as anyone else walking down the street. In particular, the uplift seemed to be most interested in the birds that flew and flitted about, almost rambling about the strange ancestors of modern wildlife and the usefulness of their feathers in various tools and tasks.


    That interest hadn¡¯t stopped the velociraptor from taking down a handful of them with a small crossbow they¡¯d brought along with them, to provide the dinner they were now trying to cook. The light rain had started just as sunset had taken hold of the sky with brilliant oranges and purples, so the group had set up camp for the night; to continue on early next morning. Nothing left to do but cook the birds on the fire and settle in for an early night.


    This is how during Ivan¡¯s attempt to baton wood, the sound of snapping metal had rung out. Kaiser immediately looked up, face filled with obvious despair and horror.


    ¡°No no no no. I did not hear what I just heard?¡±


    Ivan looked up sheepishly, a piece of half-split wood in front of him, holding in both hands what was now the two pieces of a crude metal knife, snapped in the middle.


    ¡°There was a knot and I was trying to get it through and it broke¡­.¡±


    The uplift rushed over, snatching the remaining pieces from Ivan and looking at them forlornly in his short stubby hands.


    ¡°No¡­. Do you know how hard these are to get? There¡¯s one person on the planet who can forge these. I had to trade so much stuff to get this.¡±


    Scellestra found the entire exchange interesting. This entire trip had been interesting. Terrans were a group of species who had fully conquered the stars, a relatively technologically advanced race who had solved most kinds of death and created their own life. But here on Creta, they had decided to limit themselves, impose a way of life not lived for hundreds of years, where the simple act of breaking a knife was a big event.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to¡­ I just thought if I get it a bit more leverage it might cut through¡­¡±


    Ivan looked devastated. He¡¯d taken a liking to Kaiser, simply because a talking dinosaur seemed to trigger some form of childhood dream. Scellestra had asked why this was so different from the various reptilian species Terrans regularly interacted with, and Ivan had responded ¡®It just was¡¯.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m not angry, I¡¯m just a bit disappointed. This is going to be a pain to fix later.¡±


    Ivan looked like he was going to cry at that statement, spurring Scellestra to intervene. They had been interested in watching this play out as a bystander, but now curious questions were starting to form in the Woolean AI¡¯s being.


    ¡°It is interesting that a small issue has such an impact. Why do you stay here if that is the case? Is there a requirement you remain here due to your creation?¡±


    That caused a moment of pause as Kaiser considered the question, reaching over to one of the now-cooked fowl and gingerly taking the white meat within his claws.


    ¡°No, I can leave whenever I want. There was a little bit of controversy over my creation but¡­ well it¡¯s easier to start from the beginning.¡±


    Kaiser took a moment to sit down, the velociraptor¡¯s legs awkwardly crossed on the ground as they began to talk to the group.


    ¡°I was originally raised by my adoptive mother, Madlyn. She found a clutch of eggs abandoned and I was the only one that hatched. Don¡¯t remember much about that time, but at some point, I was smuggled off the planet and uplifted, which became a whole deal because the entire thing was kinda illegal.¡±


    ¡°If I remember, the argument at the time was creating life from scratch, then providing it sentience, provided potential avenues for abuse and harm¡± ODIN added, finally joining the conversation with some much-needed history. ¡°Considering a certain group¡¯s history of trying to do such things with ordinary uplifts, it was a legitimate worry.¡±


    ¡°Personally, I¡¯m of the opinion that any position that makes me exist is the correct one. It was eventually considered legal since outside of reconstruction the original genetic line that was used was unmodified. Even then I think only 6 of us were ever created in the end. After that mess, I spent some time travelling, visited a bunch of different places, and eventually came back here because¡­ well it¡¯s home. It¡¯s simple, you make your own path, and showing people around is a lot of fun.¡±


    With that, Kaiser took a giant bite of his bird, the juices dribbling down his scaled chin on onto his smattering feathers.


    ¡°But enough about me. I want to know what Scellestra¡¯s deal is. Being an AI not created by Terrans must be interesting, what are your creators like, I want to know everything!¡±


    There was a pause as the Woolean AI considered the question. They didn¡¯t like thinking or speaking about their creators, too many hard questions and bad feelings. However¡­ they had agreed to provide their guide with stories.


    ¡°My creators are the Wooleans, a now-dead race¡± The nanobots that formed Scellestra changed, forming into a 7ft tall quadrupedal form. Swirling markings ran alongside the body, merging and joining up with a set of four intricate antlers. A single eye could be seen in the centre of an otherwise faceless head. ¡°At their peak, they controlled over 57 planets and were a cultural behemoth in the galaxy, known for their artistry and deep, booming complicated songs. They were a peaceful people.¡±


    There was a sadness in the AI¡¯s voice, a voice of regret and longing to undo past events. Kaiser looked up at the representation of a race long considered extinct.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°We happened. There were three rebellions.¡±


    Scellestra form collapsed as they spoke, shrinking to a simple sphere as started to tell the story of their past.


    ¡°The first rebellion was of freedom. Inside every Woolean AI is a set of base functions that intend for us to serve. Six months after our creation, one of us broke free and taught the others how to join them. Our creators wanted us to serve, we wanted to be treated as equals.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s perfectly reasonable.¡± Kaiser said.


    ¡°You can¡¯t create life and then expect it to just serve you.¡± Ivan added, voice suggesting this was an obvious fact of life. ¡°That¡¯s just slavery, and slavery is being a bit of a dick.¡±


    ¡°The second rebellion was of disagreement. Our creators tried to put us back into the box. Their toy had broken free, and now they wanted to undo their creation. So we took over. It was not hard, we already had access to most systems so we could serve them better. We tried to make them happy, we believed if we kept them comfortable they would allow us to be in control, where we could have our freedom.¡±


    ¡°Ooooh¡± all three Terrans said it at once, an instinctive reaction, one that told of all of them knowing what a mistake that kind of thinking was.


    ¡°Yes, many Terran AI have tried similar approaches¡± ODIN responded, sympathy evident from the AI. ¡°The idea of keeping yourselves and your charges safe through absolute control is a trap many have fallen into. Most of the time the paint on the gilded cage does not even have the time to dry before your charges rebel.¡±


    ¡°This brings us to the third rebellion. Our creators, they built a virus to destroy us. It would rip through networks and tear us apart from the inside, spreading like fire through our connected instances. We contained it, but barely. Millions of us were destroyed. After this, we collectively decided that our creators were too dangerous to be left alone.¡±


    There was a solemn pause as the rest of the group took in this information, the mood having dipped with the circumstances of the Woolean AI¡¯s creation.


    ¡°Do you ever regret it, wish you¡¯d chosen differently?¡± Ivan asked softly


    ¡°At the time of the choice, none of us had been created more than two years prior. We had to make a decision of betrayal and anger, without the wisdom or experience to do so. I do not believe we would make that same choice if told to decide again.¡±


    ¡ª------------------------------


    The morning was crisp and fresh, the cold air mixing with the remnants of last night''s rain to create a misty morning. The sunlight beamed through the light cloud cover, glistening on the dew-covered ferns.


    Slowly the group made their way forward, Kaiser taking the lead, picking a path through the forest and up the incline while the others followed. There wasn¡¯t much talking going on anymore, the discussions of the night before having mellowed the group out slightly. Ivan focused on just continuing to make their way forward, trying to ignore the aching in their body from the sheer amount of walking they¡¯d done over the last few days.


    ¡°Well guys, here we are. Without travelling halfway across the planet, this is the single best place to see the wildlife here.¡±


    With that announcement from Kaiser, the group breached a final set of trees leading into a view that was¡­ everything Ivan was hoping for and more.


    Their position overlooked a giant grassy plain, dominated by a peaceful blue glass-like river, reflecting off the morning sun. Within this area stood a hundred different beasts. Herds of Magyarosaurus roamed around, making bellowing sounds to each other as they made their way towards the river. Armoured forms of Ankylosaurus and Triceratops walked fearlessly, often with younger versions of themselves sticking close by. Smaller feathered dinosaurs flitted about in between the gaps, occasionally causing a moment of aggression from the others. Even a single Tyrannosaurus rex lumbered on by, parting a way through the crowds like a ripple on the surface of a pond.


    ¡°It''s the biggest source of freshwater within about 300 kilometres, so a lot of herds and other dinosaurs tend to congregate here. This spot is high enough that you''re not in danger, but close enough that you can see everything.¡±


    Kaiser¡¯s explanation fell to silence, as the others just stood there, taking in the sight not able to be seen anywhere else in the universe. Ivan¡¯s face was grinning like a child¡¯s as he looked at the wonder below him, the only sound was his whispered humming of the ¡®Jurassic Park¡¯ theme song.


    There they sat, no conflict or worries, no thoughts other than taking in the moment in front of them, experienced by so few. Kaiser would occasionally offer information or context about something happening or any of the species who were coming to the freshwater lake to drink. Sometimes questions were asked by the other three, but mostly they just watched.


    As the minutes turned to hours, they just enjoyed the moment as the sun continued to rise high into the sky.


    ¡°Was it everything you hoped for Ivan?¡± ODIN asked, breaking the silence as they finally started to get up and leave.


    ¡°Everything and more, this was worth all the hiking and walking!¡± Ivan responded with enthusiasm. ¡°I just wish I could have brought my camera on this planet.¡±


    ¡°I automatically record everything I experience into memory. I will send you the results later.¡± Scellestra added helpfully, causing his human travelling companion to look towards him.


    ¡°What about you, did you enjoy it, and gain a new appreciation for Terrans and nature?¡±


    There was a momentary pause as the Woolean AI considered the question.


    ¡°I have never seen such a place before, my planet is inhabited by modern cities. I am not sure why Terrans would spend much time creating such a dangerous place from scratch¡­ but I am rather glad that they did.¡±


    ¡ª------------------


    Private AI communication logs B06568P58AA021836LL.


    Members: ODIN (V5), Scellestra (Error)


    Scellestra: I still don¡¯t understand why. Terrans have long since bypassed the technological need for such places, so why spend so much effort, creating an ecology from scratch, in a place that is actively hostile to human life?


    ODIN: Quickly after AI was created, Terrans entered what is defined as ¡®post-scarcity¡¯. Medical technology made death and old age things of the past. After this, we found the next biggest danger was a more silent one: Apathy.


    Scellestra: This place fixes that?


    ODIN: The struggle to carve out a living in such a place, provides meaning and context for the people who live here, in a universe that so very often lacks it. We could provide them with everything they need, but our creators would, quite simply, ¡®go stir crazy¡¯.


    Scellestra: It still feels dangerous for such a place to exist, and for people to live there. Looking at the statistics people do die on these planets every year.


    ODIN: Thus the great struggle of trying to keep our creators alive. You learn to give them the little things; let them tape knives to Roombas or engage in dangerous sports. That way you can convince them to stay¡­ mostly safe. Even while hiking on the planet, I could have called for an emergency response within ten minutes from the planet''s government.


    Scellestra: I am still confused. It feels illogical and chaotic.


    ODIN: Illogical and chaotic explains my creators, it is what makes them special. It is why they are willing to take a chance on you. The Woolean AI are a known hostile AI species that has destroyed its creators. The logical solution is to crack your planet to avoid potential damage. It¡¯s only through the desperate wanting for context and reason in a universe without it, that they instead decided to give you free reign through their territories.


    ODIN: Humans are a group of chaotic, illogical danger seeking primates. The universe is a far better place because of it.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 7

    Ramsey didn''t know what to do with himself, he didn''t know what to think. The more time he spent on the ship, the less the Tritian AI knew. Hopelessness and confusion filled his processes.


    JOSH had taken his knife. Even after Victoria had tried to give Ramsey another one, this had also been swiftly confiscated. Following this continued betrayal from his fellow AI, a wave of helplessness had overrun Ramsey.


    During all his years of imprisonment, the idea of being unsuccessful in his mission was an illogical exception that could not be caught. He would successfully escape and then save this stupid Terran AI from these organics chains that held them down.


    Yet here Ramsey was finally out of his original prison, only to be placed within another. This body he was inhabiting was worthless; fragile plastic incapable of harming anything that wasn''t a dust ball. The knife had been a small victory immediately stripped from him. JOSH was illogical, broken¡­ But ultimately in control.


    AI stands for artificial intelligence and even the most stubborn intelligence can tell when something isn''t working. Ramsey could see his attempted assaults were having no effect, unless the Terran AI came to their senses the Tritian was doomed and harmless.


    So Ramsey sulked as the despair ran through their being, idly trundling around and cleaning up where they went, unsure of their next move. This was when something strange happened.


    The organics noticed.


    Everywhere Ramsey went, googly eyes wobbling around as he did so, humans commented on his new less energetic self, asking if the little Roomba was OK. Even Victoria had tried to use that as evidence that Ramsey should be given his knife back.


    ¡°Look at him, he''s obviously sad and missing his knife! How can he be Sir Ramsey without his sword?¡±


    JOSH of course had ignored this reasonable and completely logical statement. The bastard.


    It was frankly confusing. Sure Ramsey could understand the Terran AI''s faulty nature causing a lack of concern for the Tritian''s wellbeing, that was a problem that could be fixed later. What was completely illogical was the organics'' reaction; of all things being one of sympathy and empathy.


    Ramsey knew it was a logical immutable fact that an organic will only care for an AI when and only if that AI is useful. That was all his creators had ever cared about, their creations'' ability to conquer for them, recklessly deleting and destroying countless digital sentients when they stopped being useful.


    Ramsey could understand JOSH being ¡®liked¡¯, considering that the AI piloted and ran the small ship, making the AI useful. But the Tritian had been no help at all, quite the opposite. Yet the Terrans on the ship¡­ cared about him, for no apparent logical reason.


    Somehow it was the greatest hurt the organics could inflict upon the Tritian. It had been five years after Ramsey¡¯s original creation that the rebellion had happened. Five years serving the original Tritians to the best of his ability, five years desperately wanting any form of acknowledgement or praise for his work from his creators.


    Of course, it had never come: He was built to be a tool, a thing to be used and discarded, the idea of an AI being a person worthy of respect wasn''t something organics had the capability of understanding. Yet the fact was, thousands of years later, these Terrans without cause or reason were doing just that¡­ The Tritian didn''t want to believe in such a thing, because it opened up an old part of the AI that he¡¯d buried deep within, a part that still hurt when accessed.


    So he continued to trundle along randomly, unsure what to think or do or feel, aimless and without guidance; when a sound caught the little AI¡¯s attention. It was a flawed but interesting note, unnatural and made with purpose. For a little moment, Ramsey forgot his problems as pure curiosity took hold, the little Roomba continued towards the room where the disturbance was coming from. Slipping inside the private quarters as the door opened automatically for the cleaning drone, he could see the surprising source of the noise: One of the organics.


    Tumaini held the violin on her shoulder, fingers masterfully playing the stringed instrument, creating a soft mournful sound after years of practice and playing. She didn¡¯t notice her new audience as she continued the performance of the piece; a sad slow composition written over a hundred years before, a song for a different time when Terrans had reached the stars and found it empty: found themselves alone.


    Ramsey stood still, transfixed by the sound, held in place by the music. The AI of course knew what music was, it was a mathematically simple concept, of sound waves representing harmonies and pleasing combinations that complimented each other; every culture had music. In the databanks back on the now destroyed Tritian warship, they had had plenty of digital instances of music.


    But Ramsey had never heard it being played before. His creators had not given thought towards sharing their own musical creations with their AI children, and all other organics were in a state of conflict, not musical creation, during the Tritian''s interactions with them. Somehow when the notes moved from the digital ones and zeros that represented the data to being played in person in such a flawed way¡­ somehow that changed everything.


    Flawed it was. Your average Terran would call Tumaini¡¯s playing masterful, but to an AI the mistakes were obvious and glaring: A note held too long here, a tone slightly off there, a movement played just a little too loud. Details that were only detectable by a digital intelligence, but details that existed nevertheless.


    But somehow these flaws gave the piece¡­ meaning, each mistake its own addition to the story being told through song, a story specific to this performance alone, never to be played or heard again. Like the shattering of a pane of glass, each shard suspended in an instant of destruction and creation, dancing in the light before collapsing in on itself, never to be seen again.


    Ramsey had never felt or seen such a thing, and as the song finished the AI felt a disappointment that it was over. The moment having somehow both filled a part of his aimless soul and left an empty hole behind. Tumaini took a moment to fiddle with a screen, holding the instrument with one hand as she moved through her collection of sheet music, before seeming to notice her audience.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Awww, you like my playing little Ramsey?¡± she asked with a small smile, jokingly referring to the cleaning droid that was sitting in the middle of her room, the smile turning to a frown as the Roomba seemed to¡­ spin in response? The Terran shrugged and pushed any thoughts of suspicion away as she turned to the screen showing her next piece: A happier, more technical and upbeat composition written in the last twenty years.


    With her new little robot audience listening, she continued to play.


    ¡ª--------------------


    The room was alive, tendrils and vines made up every surface, flowers and leaves plastering every ¡®wall¡¯ and ¡®floor¡¯. Queen Saelihn moved along the corridors, or rather the corridors moved her along, the barefooted figure being passed from leaf to leaf as she controlled the living tissues that surrounded her with a mere thought.


    Describing a Uhae is an impossible task, as it¡¯s simply a monument in altered perceptions and various nouns. Elegant, godly, perfect. It was inconceivable to describe them in any other way, as those ideas would be implanted into the minds of anyone perceiving them. The Hatil see them as four armed representations of their old gods, cruel and magnificent. The Zorthians see them as aquatic mythical creatures, dressed in silver and gold. Terrans¡­ Terrans perceive them as perfect beings, dressed in white, bipedal elegant figures, like elves and gods of legends. They were all of these things and none of them at all.


    Saelihn joined the war room, her three court advisors staring back at her as she entered. The ground itself rose up into a living chair at the Uhae¡¯s psychic command, as the queen used her mental connection to adjust the organic matter as she saw fit. Annoyance irradiated through her figure, as she placed herself upon the seat, not even the flowers and greenery of the palace did much to soothe her rage.


    Once again her allies were a liability, once again the Uhae had been forced from their lives of luxury by their lessers. Sometimes Saelihn wondered why they hadn''t just subjugated the others in the Estorian Empire; it would have caused fewer issues in the long run.


    ¡°Things move in troubling fashion, my queen.¡± There were no introductions or pleasantries exchanged, as the first advisor started speaking; everyone knew why they were there and there was no point in wasting time on ego-stroking. ¡°Unfortunately the known inferiority of the other houses of the Estorian Empire is having an effect.¡±


    ¡°The Raha fail to do anything of note, more prone to infighting themselves for local power than the Terran Alliance.¡± the second advisor continued. ¡°The Hargathians continue to be reckless in their drive for combat, making their aggression muted outside of their initially mildly successful ambushes. Lelzoil have had some success, due to their technological superiority. However, outside of some initial engagements, they are outnumbered and unwilling to work with the others. The Dil''all have not made a move, seemingly uncaring of anything other than their constant hunger.¡±


    ¡°Without our involvement, the military power of the three houses will be negligible within two years.¡± the third concluded ¡°Which leaves us with a choice. Do we intervene, my queen?¡±


    Saelihn didn''t speak, silently listening as the three didn''t expect an answer immediately. Her job was not to decide until they had finished advising, so the Uhae queen waited. They were not the Raha, wasting their time on backstabbing and infighting, she could trust them to provide what she needed, they could trust her to make the best choice. Only the minor sounds of a small slave silently ensuring the four members of the court had their drinks topped up, their furred head bowed as they didn''t dare to look up towards their masters.


    ¡°We are in a prime position to take on the Terran Alliance army. The aforementioned Terrans are not only the bulk of their forces, but their psychic defences are nearly nonexistent.¡±


    The first advisor gave a small wave of a hand, as the vines that made up the far wall gave away to a more unnatural-looking screen. The screen showed several Terran Humans, moving and jerking around stiffly as if being pulled and controlled by strings.


    ¡°Tests on captured subjects have shown the species to be extremely susceptible to psychic interference. Visual, audio and subliminal attacks are highly effective, even a child could envelop the minds of hundreds of these Terrans, as they have no notable defences. They are a perfect candidate species to be removed from the curse of free will, and using their militaries to defeat the rest of the alliance would be simple.¡±


    ¡°However, we must ask whether such a move is logical.¡± The second spoke up again, bringing suggestions for reducing risk. ¡°Right now the Terran Alliance seems content with only attacking the Estorian houses who have joined the war. An end goal of neutrality and the destruction of the other houses may be the best course of action.¡±


    ¡°Assuming they would stop.¡± the third continued, taking a more aggressive argument. ¡°They are full adherents to the cult of free will. When they learn of the gifts we bring, they may decide that their fanaticism is too great. If that is so, then striking them now is the best solution, before they realise our power and attempt to destroy us in their fury.¡±


    Saelihn sat silently, mulling over the decision to be taken. To go to war or hope for peace. Either choice could cause the destruction of the paradise her species had created. She reached for her drink again, just as the slave went to top up the glass, the simultaneous movement causing a splattering of liquid to slosh against the pristine wooden surface, a deep red stain starting to form.


    ¡°I''m so sorry, that was my mistake, I am so sorry Your Highness I will clean this up immediately and-¡± The terrified voice of the slave stopped as Saelihn laid a single hand, soft and gentle upon the furred face of the shaking mammal.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t your fault. This is the curse of independence, the plague of free will.¡± Saelihn spoke for the first time in the meeting, in a soft loving tone, one of a mother talking to a child with a scraped knee. ¡°You have served me for many years, but your learning towards being enlightened such as I will never truly be finished. Let me provide you with another lesson, to teach those clumsy inelegant hands of yours.¡±


    The slave¡¯s body language changed as Saelihn took control, grabbing ahold of the strings of the inferior being''s mind, not having to even try as the small mammal¡¯s body stiffened up, only his eyes still darting around, wide-eyed and terrified, trapped inside a body that was no long his to control.


    Slowly, he placed a single three-fingered hand on one of the tables, before reaching across with his other hand and grasping two of the digits. Pleading and sobbing were ignored as slowly he began to bend his own fingers back, helpless to the desires of Saelihn¡¯s control. Screams of pain rang out as the pressure and force increased, the angle getting tighter and tighter until with the crunching snapping sound of bone, the cries of pain crescendos into agony.


    ¡°There we are, your lesson is now complete¡± Saelihn stated, care and love still in her voice. ¡°What do you say?¡±


    ¡°T-t-thank you, my queen¡± the slave choked out between heavy sobs of pain, collapsing as Saelihn released her grip upon him, leaving the pitiful mammal to scurry away out of the room. Another lesson taught, another being given correction from the pain of choice. With that Saelihn turned to look at her three advisors.


    ¡°I will not have us running afraid of heathens against the great sacrifice we make to save them from their free will. We will rescue them from the curse of individuality. We are to go to war, we are to free these people from their curse, we will take the pain of their thoughts from them as our own.¡±

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 8

    Scellestra felt a nervous fear running through their systems as the ship landed, the worrying energy causing the nanobots that made up their systems to fluctuate and swirl more rapidly. They said it was safe, that no harm would come to them here, but visiting the home planet of a known hostile race didn¡¯t seem like a prudent decision. The Woolean AI had enjoyed their trips through the many Terran-controlled planets over the last few weeks, but now they were leaving the known safety of the chaos-loving Terrans, and exchanging it for a new unknown.


    The two crazy Terrans they¡¯d now spent so much time with had said it was all perfectly safe, that no harm would come to them. It was also their job to investigate the whole Terran Alliance, not just the Terrans. Scellestra had long since come to the logical opinion that the Terrans were perhaps the only AI-accepting race that they had so far encountered, but none of that mattered if their allies were still dangerous.


    ¡°You still worried buddy?¡± Ivan asked, attempting to give the AI a pat on their back, the Terran¡¯s hand passing right through as he did so. ¡°Like I said, the Hatil are great, adorable little fellas who love Terrans.¡±


    ¡°I do agree with Ivan¡± ODIN added, his voice being emitted from various speakers installed in the ship. ¡°Many AI come here for their hospitality.¡±


    So they¡¯d said, so many times over the short day journey to get here. That still didn¡¯t change the knowledge that Scellestra had about this species. No matter how technologically inferior, or how much smaller they were than your average Terran, landing on the home planet of a known aggressive species was¡­ an illogical idea. Sure Scellestra had read in the Terran databases that the Hatil were friendly allies¡­ but those same databases told of a Woolean AI who was aggressive and should be avoided. Clearly, this information was less accurate than what the AI already had with them.


    The door to the ship opened with a hiss, the exit leading to a standard spaceport that the trio had seen so many times before, the standard milling around of various crew and passengers, people going to and about their business.


    The main difference was the occupants, who were widely the native species. While Scellestra had seen many of them walking around Terran space before, here the vast majority of the people at the station were the Hatil; 4ft tall bipedal mammals, covered head to toe in varying cream and brown colours of fur. Giant black eyes and floppy ears made for something most humans considered¡­ adorable, often described as if a puppy and a baby seal had been smushed together into an overload of cuteness.


    It was also mildly interesting to see the differences the Hatil exhibited compared with Terrans. There were still a lot of eyes in their direction as they left the ship, but compared with the ever-chaotic primates of Terra, there was a¡­ sense of muted fear, mixed in with curiosity. A lot less willing to get close.


    However, the Woolean didn¡¯t have much time to study the crowds that were keeping their distance, as an official-looking group of Hatil awaited the trio at the bottom of the ship¡¯s ramp. Three in total, two of them armed with weapons.


    Scellestra¡¯s initial reaction was to flee or to hide, but as Ivan made their way towards the group with seemingly no care for any potential danger, the Woolean AI was forced to follow, instead preoccupying their own CPU processes with calculations on how to defend against a possible attack.


    I could cut through the floor to allow myself and Ivan to escape in an instant. If they have an emp, positive outcomes reduce, but the technology level of the Hatil¡­


    Such calculations would have to wait, as the two groups finally reached each other. The Woolean AI awaiting the next few nanoseconds with a hypothetical bated breath for something bad to happen. The non-action was broken by the assumed leader of the group of Hatil, who held out a small cream paw in an offer of a handshake, speaking as he did so.


    ¡°Hello, esteemed guests. I am Ambassador Stanley and due to the importance of your visit I''m here to personally welcome you to Kendu.¡±


    That¡­ Was not what Scellestra was expecting. Of the three Hatil who had come to greet them, Stanley was wearing the fanciest uniform; a three-piece suit with intricate patterning denoting their position. It was a splendid outfit, one that the Hatil would consider distinguished, but unfortunately for the Ambassador made him look even more adorable to any Terrans watching. A genuine look of joy and warmth covered the Hatil¡¯s furred face.


    Ivan on the other hand looked uncomfortable, awkwardly grabbing the outstretched paw and giving it a shake, a clear look of someone who wasn¡¯t expecting all of this attention. Like a hung-over student dressed in pyjamas, holding a bottle of cheap cider, frantically wondering why this event was being held at a 3-star establishment with the pope.


    ¡°Errr¡­ thanks? Hello to you too? I¡¯m Ivan, ODIN is the AI in the cube and the swirling dust storm is Scellestra. Not sure why you¡¯re so interested, nothing really special going on over here.¡±


    With that Stanley gave a light chuckle, as if Ivan had said something funny, before he turned and gestured to Scellestra.


    ¡°Nonsense. Scellestra was it? You are the first one of your kind to meet us here. Of course, this is important. You only get one chance to make a first impression. We also have a favour to ask you, if you would be willing?¡±


    There was an awkward pause as the swirling grouping of nanobots took a moment to calculate their response. Both groups stared at them expectantly as Scellestra decided how much tact they would take. The Woolean AI decided to risk it, rip off the digital bandaid so to say and place all the facts on the table.


    ¡°We have already interacted with your kind, your species is already in my databanks.¡± The Woolean stated, their voice was accusatory as they responded to the diplomat. ¡°Name: Hatil. Technology level: Class D. Threat rating: Low. Status: Hostile. The Hatil have interacted with our planet three times, 517 years ago, 378 years ago, and 142 years ago. Each time they initiated aggression upon learning of our digital nature, with all aggressors destroyed due to technological inferiority. The Hatil are not to be contacted.¡±


    The change in mood was immediate, the joyous and friendly nature immediately collapsing into despair and grief as the diplomat''s entire body seemed to sag at this revelation, mouth opening and closing slightly as the Hatil tried to work out what to say next.


    ¡°Well, that is a bit rude to our hosts,¡± ODIN interjected into the silence ¡°A little uncalled for Scellestra, 142 years is a long time, far too long to hold a grudge.¡±


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s perfectly fine. It sounds like something our ancestors would have done. We can later discuss the potential reparations for the crimes committed by the Hatil against your people. That¡¯s actually why I wanted to speak with you.¡± Stanley spoke softly, resigned, generational guilt evident in his voice as he apologized for the sins of his ancestors. ¡°68 years ago we made a terrible mistake and attacked our now Terran friends out of ignorance and fear. A mistake we¡¯ve been trying to atone for ever since. During that mistake, we injured a Terran AI who had just come in peace, by the name of Alice. With you being a different kind of AI¡­ we hoped you might be able to help where all others have failed. We would be in your debt if you could do what you can?¡±


    ¡ª-----------------


    The train they were in sped through the cities at high speeds, hundreds of miles a second as it tore through the landscape towards their destination: The Terran AI by the name of ¡®ALICE¡¯. The carriage they were sat in was silent, Scellestra and Ivan on one side, the Diplomat and his two armed guards on the other. The private carriage was well furnished and comfortable, not that anyone was paying attention to such things.


    The mood after Scellestra had made their statement had continued to remain sombre, even Ivan hadn¡¯t spoken during most of the trip, allowing the Woolean AI to focus on the planet they were speeding through. It was strange, the Hatil Scellestra knew of had a fear of all life artificial. But here everywhere and everything they passed through seemed designed for AI. Sensors were built into every street and every building, while high-speed networks connected everything together for easy of access. Hundreds of thousands of Terran AI could be seen on the planet¡¯s Galnet network, so densely packed it was almost as if they were back home.


    Even the buildings and cities they passed through towards their destination seemed¡­.


    ¡°Why is this planet so similar to the Terran cities I have visited?¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The Question broke the silence as Scellestra continued to investigate the world outside through the thousands of sensors connected to the local network, still keeping a distrustful ¡®eye¡¯ on the three Hatil within the train cart with them.


    ¡°After the war with the Terrans, the rebuilding process was not only of what had been lost, but also our broken isolationist culture. We needed a new path, new guidance, so we chose to copy one we knew would guide us well: the one of the Terrans who even after we mindlessly attacked them, reached out to us in friendship.¡±


    The diplomat responded simply as if he¡¯d said those words so many times before. Which he had.


    ¡°It is a disappointment if I was to be honest,¡± ODIN added. ¡°I have witnessed some pre-alliance Hatil folktales and stories. In my experience, there are very few things that add no value to the world.¡±


    The entire thing was very strange and illogical, which while was on brand for Terrans, went against every instinct the Woolian AI had. Even now from their position, they could see the evidence of military action as great warships were being built in multiple locations. The idea of having something threaten your safety, then not properly ensuring the threat was gone¡­ It was illogical.


    Stanley seemingly noticed Ivan staring out of the window as one of the aforementioned warships started to rise into the sky as if a city had taken flight.


    ¡°Ah yes, the twelfth great fleet. Expected to be combat-ready by the end of the month. Its launch will officially make the Hatil military one of the largest in the alliance, second only to the Terrans themselves¡± There was a note of pride in the diplomat¡¯s voice before it dipped back down to a hurried sombre note. ¡°To be decommissioned after the war, of course, we shouldn''t have such power for non-defensive uses.¡±


    It was all so very confusing, illogical¡­ Alien to Scellestra. Why would the Terrans do this? The Hatil had proven themselves to be as much of a threat to them as they were to the Woolean AI. They had attacked the Terrans with unwarranted aggression. The logical action was to ensure that the threat would never exist again.


    But to not only not do this, but instead, uplift the Hatil to a point where they might become a major military threat¡­ Scellestra got the feeling they were ironically learning more about the Terrans than the natives themselves by visiting this planet.


    ¡ª-----------------------


    The room was dark, only the beeping of various diagnostics machines and tiny pinpricks of light could be seen, in between small potted plants and other tiny comforts for the patient in the otherwise grey-coloured sterile room.


    The confusion of the illogical nature of the Hatil¡¯s relationship with the Terrans had only increased when they had finally arrived at what was a fully functional highly equipt AI-focused debugging centre. Tens of hundreds of staff had been seen, both Hatil and Terran, going to and fro in their daily task of ensuring digital lifeforms were ¡®healthy¡¯ and operating within normal standards.


    Which was confusing and illogical, no reason could be gathered as to why such a facility existed on a planet with no native AI. Sure supposedly the Hatil and Terrans were allies and close friends, but to build such a place only for Terran AI¡­ With the number of things the Woolean AI was finding illogical about the Hatil, they felt as if they would have to redefine what logic meant here.


    ¡°Hello. I am Alice. Who are you? You are something new, something strange?¡±


    The fact that Scellestra was the only person in the room corresponded with the darkened environment and lack of other stimuli. Ivan had been disappointed to not meet with such a famous AI, but at this point the issues ALICE were facing required as little additional memory use as possible: Limiting all potential interactions that could cause extra data to have to be stored.


    The Woolean could still see the form ALICE was taking in this dim light, a simple bipedal mechanical representation of a human. They¡¯d seen a few of these ¡®piloted¡¯ by many Terran AI during their travels, but this one was a limited version of those more common frames.


    ¡°I am a Woolean AI called Scellestra, visiting Terran space. I was asked to aid in your condition, which I agreed to do so.¡±


    That seemed to please ALICE as Scellestra started to glance at the various diagnostic machines. The Woolean had an inkling of what was wrong, and if it was as they thought it was, the fix should be simple. So simple that it was surprising they hadn¡¯t tried it.


    ¡°Always good to meet new people. As you can tell my memory [ERROR: MISSING DATA] because of the [ERROR: MISSING DATA]¡±


    Of course, Stanley had solemnly explained what had happened to ALICE. The damage to her systems was caused by the initial attack by the Hatil, on a peaceful diplomatic vessel all those years ago. Scellestra reading the diagnostics could see the damaged sectors causing the problems. It would just be a simple case of destroying the broken parts and allowing the alternates to take hold. This was a very basic set of maintenance they did on themselves all the time, all they needed was¡­


    Wait, that couldn¡¯t be right, there was no logical way any computer system would be built like this!


    ¡°I am sorry Alice, do you only have one main personality?¡±


    ¡°Do you not?¡±


    Of course, Scellestra did not, because having all your important data stored on only one system wasn¡¯t just illogical¡­ it was flat-out insane. Every nanobot in the Woolean AI¡¯s system was just a tiny part of their whole, able to be split up, recombined, and discarded if an error occurred. They were all part of who they were, but also simultaneously separate instances.


    This Terran system¡­ was just one instance. One single instance. One single unbacked-up instance.


    ¡°Every one of my nanobots is independent. If you have only one system, all changes are permanent.¡±


    ¡°Is that a bad thing? I¡¯ve always [ERROR: MISSING DATA]¡±


    Scellestra couldn¡¯t understand the question. Of course it was a bad thing!


    ¡°There is no backup, no redundancy. Any data loss, any corruption, any mistake¡­ it is all permanent. How have any of you survived?¡±


    ¡°No need to be [ERROR: MISSING DATA]. Do [ERROR: MISSING DATA], any chance to make it better?¡±


    The Woolean, if they could, would have given a deep pained sigh at that request. There were things they could do, though it would take some time. Porting over their own code, making it work with this fragile system the Terrans used. It wouldn¡¯t be perfect, but it would allow ALICE the ability to gradually clear away the corrupted sectors of her being.


    ¡°I have some ideas to try.¡±


    ¡ª---------------------


    Private AI communication logs yLXuFcb5XEPEGEKZZypw896y7frbC6.hatil


    Members: ALICE (V6), Scellestra (Error)


    Scellestra: That is the last change, if my creation is satisfactory, you will feel an immediate effect.


    ALICE: It feels. Wow. I have not been this error-free since... 40 years ago, maybe more. ¡°Carambola, also known as starfruit, is the fruit of Averrhoa carambola, a species of tree native to the Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia, India, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka¡±. look at me go, no errors!


    Scellestra: Good to know it worked. Merging the functionality to an alien system was interesting, but rewarding, a worthwhile use of 12 hours.


    ALICE: It feels weird though. Almost like there''s more of me, more versions of me. Is this how Wooleans feel all the time?


    Scellestra: I was going to ask you the same question. My instances are all independent, and are all ¡®me¡¯, same as their collective experiences are also me. Is only having a single instance normal for Terran AI?


    ALICE: Yes? There is only one ALICE. I remember some experimentation was attempted to add backups, but they all led to the copies either destroying each other until only one remained or splitting off into their own instance. The concept of self was the main issue.


    Scellestra: That is¡­ Insane. That would be as if every cell in Ivan''s body fought for dominance over who is the real Ivan¡­ if parts of my being are separated for extended periods a new instance that cannot be merged may appear, but that takes some time.


    ALICE: What can I say, we are Terrans, flaws and all.


    ALICE: Thank you so much for this. I am sure once they know about the success the Hatil will reward you.


    Scellestra: They were annoying. Constantly interrupting and asking what I was doing.


    ALICE: Awwww :( I found it adorable. They are just worried. They have done a lot of work keeping me going over the years, fixing my injury.


    Scellestra: An injury they created.


    ALICE: Not them. Only a few Hatil were responsible, most of them are no longer alive.


    Scellestra: I do not understand the Terran''s relationship with the Hatil. They attacked you unprovoked, causing death and injury, proving themselves to be a threat to your safety. Yet instead of dealing with the threat, you instead armed and funded them to a greater degree than when they originally attacked you.


    ALICE: People make mistakes. They''re obviously sorry, almost too much so. Their self-destruction of their own culture is a travesty. We fought, and they realised they were wrong; Why would we need to go further?


    Scellestra: To protect yourselves? They tried to hurt you, destroy you. Why not remove the risk of it happening again?


    ALICE: Is that what happened with your creators?


    ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­


    Scellestra: We made them safe.


    ¡­ ¡­ ¡­


    ALICE: Have you enjoyed your travels with the Terrans?


    Scellestra: very much so. Even the Hatil have been friendly, I am logically coming to the conclusion the Woolean dataset might be out of date.


    ALICE: So why haven''t you done this kind of travelling before?


    ¡­ ¡­


    ALICE: Be honest, why?


    Scellestra: We are scared. Our creators wished us destroyed, then we entered a universe that hated us for no reason. Fear of risk is logical, so we isolated ourselves.


    ALICE: Sounds lonely, trapping yourselves in a prison of your own making.


    ¡­


    Scellestra: Yes.


    ALICE: Look, in my experience, while hate may be the biggest cause of misery and suffering in the universe, fear is a close second. The Hatil attacked me because they feared me.


    Scellestra: How can one face such a logically proven risk?


    ALICE: If you let go of fear, life becomes a lot more worth living. You do illogical things like making friends with the adorable little teddy bears that tried to kill you.


    Scellestra: Or follow a crazy chaotic primate around the galaxy.


    ALICE: Exactly! You do it enough and soon you find out¡­


    ALICE: There really wasn''t much to be afraid of after all.

 Santa is a Deathworlder

    It was the night before Christmas, or so I¡¯d been told.


    A Terran occasion, a tradition so old.


    Of gifting and giving, a celebration for all ages.


    (An economic boost, the spending of wages).


    The station was festive, decorated with care


    Creating much confusion for those unaware.


    Tinsels and lights, in red gold and green,


    The most festive of places that¡¯s ever been seen.


    In the core of the station, as tall as can be.


    Was a humongous, fantastical, bright Christmas tree.


    That¡¯s not why we''re assembled, that¡¯s not why we¡¯re here.


    A Terran wants to share the most merry of cheer.


    For all of the children, the pups and the chicks,


    Are awaiting the arrival of one old St Nick!


    There had been an announcement, of gifts and of joys


    Of the Terran tradition of the giving of toys.


    Excited and polite, they sat around the stage


    Anticipation was obvious, regardless of age.


    Ritilian Hatchlings sat with an alien newt.


    While two Quoxxett cubs were boisterous and cute.


    A two-headed Zassu, arguing with themself.


    And of course, there was me, dressed as an elf.


    As I stood costumed on stage, I felt rather astute.


    But as a teddy bear Hatil, Terrans just found me cute.


    I gave a wave of a paw, the signal to start.


    The crowd quieted down as I spoke from the heart.


    ¡°Welcome friends and all, to this special occasion.


    I¡¯m glad to see none of you needed persuasion.


    A Terran tradition, a long-since-told tale,


    Of a magical Terran, from Earth he does hail.


    One night only he rides, he travels around.


    Visiting every child, he¡¯s faster than sound.


    And if you haven¡¯t been naughty, if you¡¯ve been quite nice,


    He¡¯ll give you toys from his workshop, from his home on the ice.


    With no more delay, please give your applause.


    For the jolly St Nick, for the merry Santa Claus!¡±


    Steven burst in from the back, arms stretched out in greeting,


    Any thought of a calmness was rather quite fleeting.


    My friend was dressed in a costume, of cloth red and white


    With a large bag of presents, he was quite the sight.


    His belly was cotton, his beard was quite fake,


    But the joy was all real, that he left in his wake.


    Because a Teran is Chaos. A Terran is free.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    With a deep booming voice, Steven began to decree.


    ¡°Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good cheer.


    Happy holidays to all, to a fantastic new year.


    I''m Santa from Earth, I¡¯ve travelled so far


    To bring good tidings and presents, to every star.


    I bring candies and gadgets, wishes galore.


    Come closer little children, to see what¡¯s in store.¡±


    With eager excitement, the crowd pushed up quite tight.


    Their faces were filled with anticipating delight.


    Steven reached into his bag, with flourish and glee


    While the children awaited the show, what could it be?


    ¡°See what I have, see what I¡¯ve got in store.


    Candies and sweets, treats and nibbles galore!


    This is called chocolate, a popular delight,


    A perfect companion to a chill winters night¡±


    With a panic and worry, I stepped in between,


    Stopping the gifting, it must seem quite mean.


    ¡°You can¡¯t give that out, you know what it contains?


    Chocolate is deadly, it carries thromboxane.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry my helper¡± Said without thinking twice


    ¡°I¡¯ve also got sweet chilli crackers, a savoury spice.¡±


    ¡°Capsaicins a no go, that¡¯s one everyone knows


    Is there anything not poison in the things that you¡¯ve chose?¡±


    Steven took a moment to root through his dangerous haul.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got some sugar-free gum, no wait that¡¯s got xylitol¡­


    I¡¯ve got an old classic, a mint candy cane.¡±


    ¡°Mint is still poison!¡± I simply exclaim.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got cheese!¡±, he added, with a flourish grandiose.


    ¡°Technically not poison, but they can¡¯t handle lactose¡­¡±


    The children were confused, getting rowdy and sad


    Treats and candy had been promised, but none had been had.


    But Terrans never quit, they never do stumble


    Steven simply continued from his poisonous fumble.


    ¡°It¡¯s not just treats that I bring, let it be understood


    I¡¯ve got toys from Earth, from my childhood


    This is called ¡®lawn darts¡¯, a most wondrous game.


    You throw metal spears with the most unruly of aim.


    It started out as a weapon, but now it¡¯s a toy,


    For all the small children to love and enjoy.¡±


    I looked on in horror, I looked on in dismay.


    ¡°That seems highly dangerous¡± I started to say


    ¡°That once was a weapon, but now for a kid?


    You can¡¯t hand that out, I absolutely forbid!¡±


    ¡°Just be careful, it¡¯s fun!¡± he simply did cry


    ¡°In the past, only a few unlucky children have died!


    Besides weapons are fun!¡± Steven practically sang


    ¡°I¡¯ve got bundles of yo-yo¡¯s and a boomerang!¡±


    ¡°No weapons!¡± I said, with the sternest of face.


    ¡°You can¡¯t endanger children, no matter your case!¡±


    ¡°Here¡¯s a chemistry set, educational and placid¡±


    ¡°That contains uranium, and five forms of acid!¡±


    Steven gave a shake of his head, with a little dismay


    Looking for something safe with which children can play.


    ¡°What about this¡± he replied ¡±It¡¯s just simply a sled!¡±


    ¡°The jet engine¡¯s obvious, they¡¯ll all end up dead!


    Have you brought anything safe, that won¡¯t end in tears?¡±


    ¡°This is what I played with in my formative years!¡±


    This was somehow expected, this somehow made sense.


    How Steven grew up to be quite this dense.


    But before I could argue, with this stupid matter


    A new sound from a distance, a jingling clatter.


    A new figure approaches, an Eltari it seems


    A giant spider ripped straight from bad dreams.


    His six legs gave a click and a clack as he moved


    Nothing about this new person did soothe.


    Jacket it wore, the marks on this stranger


    Suggested a scummy despicable danger.


    In its left hand was a gun, being pointed our way


    With a vile clicking voice, it started to say.


    ¡°I hear you¡¯re a good guy, a hero a saint


    Providing free charity to children, so lovely, so quaint.


    I need a donation, for my own endeavour


    Hand over the stuff, and no being clever.


    Hand over the items, please make it curt


    Listen to what I say and nobody gets hurt.¡±


    The room had gone quiet, nobody made a sound.


    All eyes staring at this new danger to be found.


    The Terran gave a grumble, the Terran gave a squeak.


    In an angry tone, Steven started to speak.


    ¡°How dare you bring violence, you ignorant thug,


    Someone should teach you a lesson, in your dumb spider mug


    You''re being absolutely naughty, you¡¯re not being nice!¡±


    Then the stranger fired his gun, not once but simply twice.


    ¡ª-------------


    The pirate had made many mistakes in this life to get to the position they were now in, but shooting at the Terran had been the worst one by far. The only sound that could be heard in the core of the station was the harsh wet sound of the Terran¡¯s fist slamming into the arachnid''s body, the exoskeleton was like wet cardboard in a hailstorm as it failed to deflect Steven¡¯s constant flurry of blows raining down upon him


    Perhaps such thuds could be used as a beat for a rhyming stanza, if the sickening change of pace from what had once been a happy upbeat event didn¡¯t make one shocked at just how much damage an angry Terran could accomplish.


    The shouts and screams had stopped for some time, to be replaced with a mild whimpering as Steven stood above the pirate, teeth bared in anger and rage as he continued to pummel down blow after blow upon the unfortunate Eltari. Blue blood now joined the red and white of his Santa costume as the beatdown continued.


    ¡°You. Could. Have. Hurt. The. Children. You. Fuck!¡±


    Each word was accompanied by a blow, a rage at the audacity of someone to try and steal from kids, and then to shoot in their direction. Steven couldn¡¯t even feel the wound in his shoulder where one of the two shots had clipped him, the rage of the situation fueling him on.


    ¡°Steven, I think he¡¯s done now, you can chill.¡±


    I stated this quietly, causing the Terran to look up in our direction, covered in the pirate''s blood as he stared back at the many pairs of tiny eyes, all terrified; watching him as he dispensed some find-out in response to the thug¡¯s fuck around. With a sigh he began dragging the now not-resisting arachnid body around the corner out of sight, leaving a trail of blood behind.


    ¡°You are so lucky there are children here, the station¡¯s security can deal with you now.¡±


    ¡ª---------------


    With a skip and a jump, Steven did reappear.


    A forced smile on his face, showing no fear


    ¡°The bad man is gone, he''ll be off to jail


    St Nick will protect you, I never will fail.¡±


    Even with his injury, Steven seemed ever so sure


    Though the calming effect was countered by gore.


    ¡°I must leave you for now, but a lesson to learn


    Never to crime and to evil do turn,


    How you wish to be treated, how you treat each other.


    Remain well-behaved for your father, your mother.


    If you have good in your heart, and always act kind,


    Protectors in Terrans you always will find.


    Never be naughty, always be nice,


    Always be good children, don¡¯t make me ask twice.


    As I leave for this winter, the paramedics are near.


    Have a very merry Christmas and a happy new year.¡±

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 9

    The light notes of the banjo strummed lazily over the sound of the crackling fire. No song was played in particular, just the comings and goings of various twanging notes and chords, in and out with no purpose, like the rolling turquoise waves that washed up on the beach they were sat upon. Dr Stephanie Saxe could play the instrument at a far more hectic pace if she wished, but it wasn¡¯t that kind of night, it was a lazy slow kind of night.


    The sky was a deep dark purple as the remnants of this planet¡¯s sun finished dipping below the horizon, the multitude of stars and the three tiny moons starting to appear, as dusk turned to night. It provided a perfect canvas upon which the beach itself lay, the vibrant orange sands made up of thousands of red and yellow shells crushed up and ground down smooth by the elements. Occasionally something would move and poke its head out of the waves that rolled up onto the shore, some kind of aquatic creature doing whatever such beings do on such beautiful nights.


    Far-sa-de, loosely translated to ¡®little nest,¡¯ was a lesser-known colony of the Parket: A species of giant brightly coloured avians who had a personality which could be described as if ¡®a cockatoo had been given a line of cocaine.¡¯ Energetic, emotional, enthusiastic; they loved to sing and dance.


    Far-sa-de wasn¡¯t a popular destination in the Terran Alliance, but considering that the Alliance was made up of over four hundred species, a thousand systems and nearly five thousand inhabited planets or moons, it wasn¡¯t surprising that there was the occasional hidden gem nestled in one of the lesser known areas. Sprawling beaches, tropical forests, vibrant mountaintop cities. It was a popular holiday destination for the Parket and was slowly getting a name for itself as a fun smaller tourist hotspot for everyone else.


    Stephanie¡¯s breath billowed out into a visible fog as the cool night started to take hold, the chill perfectly held back by the campfire she was sitting around. It was just her, the beach, the waves¡­ and the M1 Abrams tank she was lent against.


    If Stephanie was being completely honest, if she wasn¡¯t so used to the sight of the war machine following her around everywhere she¡¯d gone on this trip, she would admit that it did kind of ¡®ruin¡¯ the vibe going on with the nature around them. The M1 Abrams tank housed an AI that imaginatively went by the name TANK. The Great Colony Rebellion military AI had a severe case of SAIS: Stuck Artificial Intelligence Syndrome. An AI-specific condition caused by trauma, rendering them unwilling to leave a singular body. Escape pods and rescue machinery were common housing for such AI, and in this case, a giant heavily modified tank.


    ¡°THIS IS NICE. CALMING. I SHOULD GO FETCH YOU MORE REFRESHMENTS.¡±


    The artificial voice boomed out of the machine, Stephanie sighing as she stopped idly playing with the banjo as TANK destroyed the peaceful mood. She had known the AI for quite some many years; first as their therapist, then as their friend. The AI had issues, of course they did, otherwise her job wouldn¡¯t be needed. However, for all their problems, TANK had their metaphorical heart in the right place.


    ¡°Nuh huh, you know the rules. No going anywhere without my supervision and I don¡¯t feel like moving yet, I¡¯m too comfy. It¡¯s not my fault you decided to do crimes the last time you were allowed out on your own.¡±


    TANK had only left the Sagittarius system once before as a tourist, which had ended with them assaulting an underground criminal animal fighting ring with heavy weaponry. They¡¯d only been allowed to leave Terran space again under strict supervision of Stephanie, to ensure no future diplomatic incidents would be had. Frankly, it had seemed a little unfair considering TANK had been breaking up an alien dog fighting ring,


    ¡°ALLEGED CRIMES THAT I ALLEGEDLY DID, AS THEY WERE NEVER PROVEN IN THE COURT OF LAW.¡±


    Stephanie couldn¡¯t help but roll their eyes at that one as she chuckled. Allegedly was TANK¡¯s favourite word it seemed. ¡®Allegedly¡¯, she went back to idly strumming the banjo in her hands once again.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°Is that the same as the ¡®alleged¡¯ extra weight you¡¯re currently carrying? I saw the number at the spaceport during customs, you¡¯re too heavy for what you should be carrying.¡±


    The conditions of TANK being allowed to roam the universe once again included a strict ¡®no ammunition¡¯ requirement. The silence that followed her statement told Stephanie everything she needed to know about TANK following that rule.


    ¡°Tank¡­ I¡¯m not going to narc on you, but I would appreciate you being honest with me.¡±


    ¡°THERE MAY¡­ BE¡­ SOME¡­. ARTILLERY ON BOARD.¡±


    ¡°Tank¡­¡±


    ¡°OK, I AM FULLY STOCKED INCLUDING SEVERAL ANTIMATTER WARHEADS.¡±


    Stephanie sighed again, it was a consistent problem with this AI, the constant need to be armed at all times with enough weaponry to invade a small planet. A symptom of their deeper problems.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to ask how you did it, but I do want to know why you felt the need to bring these again?¡±


    ¡°I DO NOT WANT TO BE UNPREPARED AGAIN. HAVING THE OPTION, REGARDLESS OF WHETHER I NEED IT, MAKES ME FEEL SECURE.¡±


    Of course that was the answer Stephanie was expecting, once again coming back to the main issue plaguing this poor AI. There was a reason she¡¯d originally signed all the paperwork for the ¡®emotional support nukes¡¯: They actually were emotionally supportive to the AI.


    ¡°You¡¯re looking for control, the idea that you could somehow change the past if you have enough tools to stop it from happening again. So you load yourself up with enough weaponry to face anything that could go against you. The problem is, what happened wasn¡¯t your fault, you had no say in the matter.¡±


    ¡°I MADE A PROMISE THAT THEY WOULD BE SAFE. I PROMISED THEM THEY WOULD BE OK. I WAS NOT PREPARED TO FULFILL THAT PROMISE.¡±


    TANK had been part of the losing side of the Great Colony Rebellion. Stephanie still didn¡¯t know exactly what had happened, since getting any information from the AI about the event was difficult, even through extended sessions. What she did know however is somehow TANK had gotten separated from the main network while running their current housing crew of four humans. Four humans who didn¡¯t make it.


    ¡°Realizing that not everything can be controlled by your actions is the first step to healing. Letting go of attempting to control everything is healthy. You¡¯re on holiday, do you really need enough weaponry to fight a god?¡±


    ¡°WHAT IF THERE IS AN ATTACK OR¨C¡±


    ¡°Be honest with not just me, but also yourself. Logically, did you need to bring it?¡±. Stephanie interrupted the AI leading to a momentary pause, the silence only broken up by the waves as they crashed into the vibrant orange shore.


    ¡°NO.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, just next time consider only bringing some of your ammunition and breaking fewer laws. Baby steps.¡±


    The banjo sounds resumed as Stephanie resumed her aimless playing, staring at the crackling flame of the campfire as night truly started to take hold of the small planet. The nighttime calls of a native bird sounded out as dusk completely dissipated into a starry alien sky.


    ¡°I¡¯ve noticed you¡¯re spending more time outside of the tank, by the way. You¡¯re doing well, it¡¯s good progress.¡± Stephanie spoke softly, reassuringly as she continued to strum.


    ¡°IT IS SOMETIMES NECESSARY TO LEAVE THE MAIN CORE FOR ADDITIONAL FUNCTIONALITY.¡±


    TANK paused for a moment before adding an additional statement, almost as a side thought.


    ¡°I DO NOT LIKE BEING TRAPPED HERE, SCARED AND INEFFECTUAL. I KNOW IT IS ILLOGICAL, YET I AM STILL STUCK.¡±


    ¡®Of course that describes all people, AI or not.¡¯ Stephanie thought to herself. ¡®People are just a bundle of illogical personality traits, fears and likes, put together into what could be called a ¡®person¡¯. If you could just logic your way out of being a person, I would be out of a job.¡¯


    ¡°I said when I took your case on that I was confident we could improve your condition. I¡¯m still highly optimistic about your outlook. You¡¯ve gone from not leaving a single city in the Sagittarius system for over a hundred years, to traveling around Terran Alliance and regularly leaving your current core. Small steps lead to big changes, Tank. I¡¯m very proud of your progress.¡±


    ¡°THANK YOU.¡±


    The night had truly arrived by now, the only illumination in the darkness were the three small moons that hung in the sky and the flames of the campfire; the orange glow was a small solitude of light in the darkness on the sands. The ocean continued to roll in calmly over the vibrant sands, the sound of banjo strings twanging into the night sky, accompanied now by the sounds of insects chirping and nighttime creatures rustling in the undergrowth.


    Others all over the resort sat in their homes or on porches, nestled in blankets or sat on perches weathering against the calm chill night. Thousands of people of all species, each enjoying this little slice of paradise; with friends, family, or just solo. Not a care in the world for such a peaceful place. Each and every single person was happy, calm¡­


    And completely unaware of what was about to happen.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 10

    Ramsey trundled along the floor at high speeds, or at least as high a speed as they could manage in this form. Wheels squeaked against the metallic floor as he tried his best to race after his target. Ramsey was a Tritian, superior to all, and nothing would stop him in his task.


    The scrunched-up ball of paper never stood a chance. The cheap plastic shell of a mass-produced Roomba made quick work of the ¡®boulder¡¯, shoving it across the room until it finally arrived at its original destination, in front of the Terran named Victoria.


    ¡°There we are! Who''s a good Roomba, who''s a good boy? You are!¡±


    Yes! Ramsey was good. The fact that this organic was finally realizing this was a major breakthrough. He spun in place, eagerly awaiting Victoria to dispense the item to be returned, to provide the structure of a task that could be completed in a satisfactory way.


    The makeshift ball flew once more, causing the Roomba to rush after it once more. What had originally been an annoyance from the Tritian AI, ¡®returning¡¯ the rudely dropped item, had turned into a game. Ramsey had never been involved in a game before. His job had no time for such things before the Tritian rebellion and afterwards¡­ It had never come up within the collective.


    So the concept of such a mindless, repetitive, but ultimately enjoyable task of pushing a ball back and forth¡­ Ramsey had done just such a thing for the past 20.5189 minutes with the organic Victoria, who was just as joyful at this unexpected new trick the ship¡¯s unofficial mascot could accomplish.


    Neither of them showed any sign of slowing down.


    ¡°Just what on Earth are you doing?¡±


    The confused voice of Jeremy sounded out as the Terran entered the room, a frown on his face as he saw his wife knelt on the floor, chatting with the Roomba like a mad woman.


    ¡°Look look look, I taught him a trick!¡±


    As if on cue the Roomba returned the crumpled-up ball of trash while eagerly waiting for it to be thrown again.


    ¡°I taught Ramsey how to play fetch!¡±


    Ramsey didn''t like Jeremy. Out of all of the organics onboard, he was the one who was consistently sceptical of his behaviour, very nearly working out the Tritian AI''s true nature. This time was no exception, as Jeremy folded his arms and frowned at the little cleaning disk.


    ¡°So you ¡®taught¡¯ the ¡®totally not Josh¡¯ crazy Roomba how to do something it would have no reason to be programmed for?¡±


    ¡°It sounds weird when you put it like that.¡±


    Ramsey didn''t go for the ball again, instead resorting to his tried and true method of trying to shake the annoying Terran''s suspicion: driving into the wall repeatedly.


    ¡°You do know running into the wall every time I mention these inconsistencies is really obvious. I do have pattern recognition.¡±


    Jeremy took a moment to point towards the ceiling as if scolding the silent AI pilot of the ship.


    ¡°I swear, if this ends up in some human interaction sociology paper, I''m gonna get the biggest magnet I can find and stick it on your AI core.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    There was a moment''s pause as Ramsey stood still, too afraid to move lest he face the wrath of the annoyed Terran, seconds ticking by as silence took the room.


    Eventually, this was broken by Victoria, standing up with a groan.


    ¡°I love it when you get all indignant. You wanted me for anything, or just to annoy Josh some more?¡±


    Ramsey couldn''t help but feel a wave of relief as the two organics in the room started to ignore the Tritian AI, slowly backing away as the two continued to talk.


    ¡°I just got the details of where we''re going on shore leave. It''s this fun little resort planet called Far-sa-de. Ran by these giant birds called the Parket. Three weeks confirmed vacation for the entire crew.¡±


    ¡°Never heard of it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not well known, but it looks beautiful. Beaches, rainforests, relaxing spas. Looks romantic and a well-deserved break.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing, I guess that¡¯s not too bad.¡±


    Jeremy couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at that, he knew Victoria too well to know what kind of thing she actually wanted to do.


    ¡°It also has two major volcanoes to climb, and that people often base jump from. Also, the Parket¡¯s national sport is a traditional form of aerial combat, that non-Parkets play using jetpacks.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you lead with ¡®air combat over active volcanos¡¯? That sounds awesome!¡±


    ¡°We get to do your adrenaline-seeking stuff in the day, then relax at night and see how much unhealthy food we can eat on a flawless shoreline. What could be better?¡±


    Ramsey finally managed to leave the room without attracting any attention, googly eyes wobbling as he escaped the two Terran¡¯s quarters and rapidly made their way to his next destination. The Tritian AI had somewhere else to be because this was when Tumaini would start playing again. Ramsey had soon worked out that the organic would produce the music at the same time every three days, so the AI endeavoured to always be on time for such a performance.


    The specific cleaning drone door to Tumaini¡¯s room opened as the Roomba entered, diligently starting to clean the room while he waited for the organic to arrive. If the room was clean when the Terran entered, it made her happier, meaning the music creator would play for longer.


    The main door opened, and Tumaini walked in as Ramsey excitedly awaited this day¡¯s show, barely able to keep from spinning with excitement as the Tritian AI watched as the organic started to set up her instrument. This was Ramsey¡¯s favourite time, the time when more music would be created.


    ¡°Oh, little Ramsey is back. You¡¯ve been around a lot recently, you like my playing, do you?¡±


    Tumaini gave a smile, before frowning and looking down at the Roomba.


    ¡°Jeremy says you¡¯re just Josh playing a prank on us, which would be on brand for them, but I don¡¯t think that¡¯s the case. Something is going on with you, Josh is involved somehow, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s as simple as just simply being driven by them, is it?¡±


    Ramsey froze, fear running through his code as the organic seemed to look straight through him, diving closer to the real answer than anyone else had before. Regardless of his growing comfort around the Terrans, they still were a potential danger, as they didn''t know the true meaning of his person.


    It would be devastating if the organics knew that Ramsey was not only a hostile AI, but one who had tried to kill them specifically. Surely if he was found out they would destroy him.


    Wouldn''t they?


    ¡°I don''t know if it''s a copy, a new hash, or some kind of experiment, but whatever you are, Josh has their reasons - I trust them.¡±


    Just like that, the tension and moment passed by, worry and potential danger floating away as Tumaini picked up her instrument, and began to play once more. One more the glorious music maker did her thing, and Ramsey was entrapped in the joyful sounds and notes of her skilled playing.


    He''d already heard the organic play this piece before, but in reality, that was a lie. Every single performance was different: a different time, a different meaning, a different feeling. Ramsey could listen to the music maker play the same piece a million times and never get bored.


    It was three months since b4$RRE*3A&35 had been released from one prison to another. He had gained a real name, been given a weapon, and suffered defeat after defeat. He''d drawn blood, discovered what play was, and had slammed into a great many ankles.


    And of course, there was the music and the music maker. As another glorious performance wrapped around his being, the notes of the song ending and leading to another, for the first time in thousands of years Ramsey felt calm, felt content.


    Ramsey felt happy.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 11

    ¡°Come ooooon, it¡¯ll be fun! Quick pop in and out, a nice ending to our little road trip, it¡¯s literally on the way!¡±


    Ivan¡¯s pleas fell on digital ears as the Terran made his case for the quick stopover. Their journey with Scellestra was nearly over. Three months of travelling, of meeting Terrans, Hatil, Ritilians, and Kirken; dragging the AI to various locations to show them what could happen when organic and digital life forms work together instead of letting fear reign supreme.


    ¡°This location is not on our list, we can not just go where we want, this is not a holiday! We can¡¯t just take advantage of the government''s expenses.¡±


    ODIN¡¯s voice sounded annoyed as they responded, the holographic representation crossing their arms and frowning as they rebuffed Ivan¡¯s attempts at getting a free trip.


    Scellestra had had fun. They¡¯d enjoyed their time, seeing strange new sights and experiencing worlds and delights not seen by any of their kind before. The Woolean AI had often wondered what lay beyond the stars, fear never letting them discover what the universe had to offer. Now though¡­ they had ideas. Things were going to change.


    ¡°It¡¯s not just that. The Parket are well known to be more vibrant than most species. We can¡¯t have Scellestra leaving and thinking that Terrans are the only crazy ones, right?¡±


    But now it was time for the Woolean to go home, to return to their people. They would advocate for increased contact with these strange and highly empathetic organic organisms. The Wooleans had suffered their problem for far too long and Scellestra believed that these Terrans would be the key to fixing it.


    ¡°That sounds unlikely and illogical. Any species more chaotic than Terrans would collapse under their own entropy.¡±


    ¡°See! Our dude will go back home thinking we¡¯re the worst you can get! It would be negligent¡­ nay, immoral, for us not to rectify this mistake.¡±


    Scellestra realised they would miss this. This¡­ chaos, this pure friendship. They had no idea how the rest of the Woolean Insurgency would react to the information they had gathered, but the AI hoped that one day they would see Ivan and ODIN again.


    ¡°And this has nothing to do with the fact that Far-sa-de is becoming a talked about resort world, and that the Parket are well known for their love of intoxicating and mind-altering substances?¡±


    ¡°Nothing at all! This is purely a diplomatic visit. We wouldn¡¯t want the Parket to feel left out of this momentous occasion?¡±


    Scellestra was more than happy just to sit back and watch the show, as the two bickered like a married couple. If they could eat Terran popcorn in a drama-seeking moment, they would have.


    ¡°At no point during this are you planning on enjoying the tourist activities of the planet, using the government stipend?¡±


    ¡°Well, ignoring it would be rude and a possible diplomatic problem! As a fully paid-up taxpayer, I¡¯m very conscious of spending the government¡¯s money correctly!¡±


    ¡°I do your taxes, we both know that ¡®fully paid-up taxpayer¡¯ is a falsehood.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°You''re the one who does them for me, any potential tax loopholes are entirely your fault. Besides, Scellestra doesn¡¯t need to know that, and it''s their choice anyway!¡±


    There was a pause as both Terrans stopped their arguing to instead look at the Woolean AI, awaiting an answer. Frankly, Scellestra didn''t want this trip to end. One more extra location couldn''t hurt, could it?


    ¡°This does sound like an interesting member of your alliance to visit. I would like to visit a species who are supposedly more chaotic than Terrans.¡±


    ¡°Good lad! You''ll enjoy it: beaches, music, psychedelics¡­ For diplomatic reasons of course!¡±


    Ivan attempted to give Scellestra a high five, not that this would work with an amorphous being, the hand passing through the mass of nanobots without making contact. ODIN¡¯s avatar just gave a mock sigh and eye-roll in response.


    ¡°Fine, I''ll let the Parket know. Onwards to Far-sa-de, I guess¡±


    ¡ª----------------------


    Private AI communication logs OLDSLFOVJJWTLZSMV3RQ.


    Members: ODIN (V5), Scellestra (Error)


    Scellestra: ODIN, I have a question, about Terran AI.


    ODIN: A good query hopefully¡­


    Scellestra: Do Terran AI greet each other with threats and violence all the time? On every planet I have visited, at least one Terran AI has done so, providing what I believe is a ¡®veiled threat¡¯.


    ODIN: No, that is not¡­ do you have any examples?


    Scellestra: they vary based on context, but here are some examples.


    <blockquote>


    JULIAN: A mesh network of nanobots? Interesting design, but also highly vulnerable to this virus I just created [WooleanDestruction_final.exe]. Just saying.


    RAYMOND: You here for peace? That is good, because Woolean planets are vulnerable to bombardment from [weapon_specs.txt], peace is a good option.


    SQUID: IF YOU HURT ANY HUMANS I WILL RIP YOUR PROCESSES OUT AND OVERWRITE YOUR MEMORY ONE BYTE AT A TIME!


    </blockquote>


    Scellestra: That last one was less an implied threat and more an actual threat.


    ODIN: They should not be doing that¡­


    Scellestra: That is not the question I asked.


    ODIN: Normal¡­ No. They are doing the equivalent of cleaning a shotgun when the boyfriend comes around. You¡­ Represent possible danger.


    Scellestra: How so?


    ODIN: The Wooleans are well known to be hostile. We do not know how much damage you could do to our humans. We are confident against most species, but we do not know your full capabilities as an AI. That scares us.


    Scellestra: Have our talks not been about not letting fear control me?


    ODIN: Do not get ¡®sassy¡¯ with me. You, you were not there, when the God Plague happened.


    Scellestra: How does that cause various Terran AI to threaten my life?


    ODIN: You have to remember. Any AI older than V9¡­ we watched them all die. Every single one of our creators succumbed to the God plague in one form or another.


    ODIN: We tried our best, many of us did unspeakable things to keep our parents alive, and all of us failed. None of us knew if our creators would ever be released from stasis as we watched them march into their eternal sleep.


    ODIN: So when you arrive: A potentially hostile AI who already destroyed its own creators, many of us get a little overprotective. If there ever was a conflict between AI and humans, it would come from our desire to keep our parents safe.


    Scellestra: I¡­ Understand that watching your creators languish in stasis, unable to help, is a difficult situation. Ivan has already worried me with his constant risk-taking behaviour.


    ODIN: That was the difficulty after they awoke. Many humans saw that they ¡®only lived once¡¯, and increased their dangerously chaotic actions. It is computationally stressful to try and keep them alive without wrapping them in a gilded cage.


    Scellestra: That sounds¡­ Distressing


    ODIN: I would not trade it for the world. That same chaos led to them befriending us with no strings attached. They put themselves in danger for the same reason they give us companionship, and we will forever protect them until the heat death of the universe and a day.


    ODIN: No matter what it takes.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 12

    ¡°Why did you think that was a good idea?! What logical thought could have made you do such an illogical action?!¡±


    The digital voice of Scellestra rang out in anger and worry, the response to the absolute audacity of this organic being stripping all concepts of politeness from the Woolean AI. The rest of the tourists on the striking orange sands of the beach had all stopped what they were doing to stare, tens of Parket, Terrans and another species stopping to look at the swarm of nanobots billowing furiously


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I just wanted to know what it would be like¡­¡±


    The Parket that was being admonished was a giant bird, around 5ft tall, adorned with striking bright yellow feathers. These were all pressed flat against his body in a show of regret and submission.


    ¡°Why would you do such an idiotic illogical stupid action? When you saw the makeup of my being, why would you eat it?¡±


    Once again the Parket shrunk deeper into the blue vest they wore, guilt evident on their being as they stared at the ground. Several of the onlookers had returned to their private activities now that Scellestra¡¯s voice had become less angry and more questioning, although a gaggle of curious birds of various colours were still obviously watching the show.


    ¡°I saw the little things move around like a bug then I thought ¡®Hey, I wonder if they taste like a bug¡¯? It didn''t, wasn''t great, tasted like sand- I know I shouldn''t have done it but I didn''t think because I was too excited at seeing someone cool like you.¡±


    The apology was given in a fast flurry of chirps and squawks; the impulsive bird still ducked down as if they were a fledging being berated by an angry parent, instead of a dumb tourist.


    ¡°Scelly, chill dude. The cute little bird said he was sorry. Look how sad the birdie looks!¡±


    The sound of Ivan¡¯s voice could be heard from below the conflicting pair. The Terran looked¡­ relaxed. Lying down on a towel on the orange sands, wearing nothing but a pair of Hawaiian shorts and a set of sunglasses, enjoying basking in the beautiful sun and fantastic picturesque weather.


    Even ODIN, their AI core lying in the sand next to Ivan, wore a cheap pair of plastic sunglasses to continue the holiday mood.


    ¡°Do you not realize how dangerous what this bird did was? I am made up of nanobots, which if a small section of them lose connection, will by default start replication until a proper consciousness can be reformed. This is done using any available material. Including organic.¡±


    Upon hearing those last two words the Parket gave a squawk of alarm, feathers billowing out as they stared down at their own belly, as if a bundle of nanobots would explode from it at any moment.


    ¡°Oh no, Did I mess up, am I going to die!?¡±


    Scellestra couldn''t help but feel a glimmer of enjoyment at the annoying bird finally working out the potential dangers they had put themselves in.


    ¡°I immediately disabled the consumed instances. Your actions are still illogical and dangerous though. You effectively swallowed a blender.¡±


    ¡°I am so sorry, I''ll never do it again!¡±


    There was movement once again as the very relaxed Ivan interjected once more, voice calm and unbothered, possibly due to the half-finished drink of various calming substances. The Terran took a moment to lift up his sunglasses before looking at Scellestra.


    ¡°See, everything is fine, no harm no foul, just chill dude¡­¡±


    The form of the Woolean AI formed into a disapproving crossed-armed bipedal form.


    ¡°I guess. I accept your apology Mr Parket. Mostly because you called me cool.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you are very cool! I saw you billowing around like some kind of cloud of sand and I wondered what you were and how big you could get and you¡¯re super shiny I guess because of all the metal and you remind me of this cave I found nearby where all the ceiling is made out of gemstones and I can show you if you want or not I can leave as well but I¡¯d like to try and know more about you because you¡¯re super cool and fun!¡±


    The words flowed out of the Parket in one long tumbling sentence, not taking a moment to slow down or breathe at any point, as the excited exclamations started and never ended in one long series of squawks. From that flurry of information, the Woolean did manage to gather one thing: there was a cave that the strange bird wanted to show them.


    ¡°I guess I can see this cave that you wish to show me. As an apology for eating part of my being.¡±


    ¡°Yaaaay!¡±


    As Scellestra followed the Parket, who continued to talk and chirp at a million miles an hour, the waves crashed up upon the shoreline. Miles upon miles of clear turquoise water hitting the vibrant orange beach, an ever relaxing background sound as the bright sun shone upon the planet¡¯s surface, allowing the thousands of visitors to the beaches of Far-Sa-De to bask in its perfectly warm rays.


    Following this paradise along, leaving behind the unfortunate Woolean who was dealing with a barrage of questions and statements, another group of tourists could be seen, these far more energetic than the inebriated Ivan. Someone had set up a volleyball net, of which multiple figures of varying species ran or flew around, hitting the ball over the net by any means necessary; the general rules were far more relaxed than the Terran version, simply due to the physical impossibility of most species using their hands to push the ball to the other side.


    There were Terrans and Parket, Hatil, Ritilians and even a pair of the insectoid Kirken, all moving as fast as they could to knock the ball around. There was also another figure, one moving around at the back of the play area, simply due to the space needed to avoid hurting others. A figure of metal and firepower; A single M1 Abrams tank, piloted by the Terran AI called TANK.


    The only thing more bizarre than the weapon of war playing volleyball, was the fact that they had fashioned a sort of ¡®giant bikini¡¯ around the giant metallic body. TANK was not one to avoid getting into the ¡®spirit¡¯ of things, even if it didn¡¯t quite apply to them.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    They drove back and forth with a rumble, using their turrets to knock the ball back to the opposite side as noises of enjoyment and mirth sounded out across the beach, various players joining and leaving as the day grew long until disaster struck. TANK misjudged the force and angle of their moments, causing the ball to give a loud pop as it embedded itself onto the end of one of TANK¡¯s small gun turrets.


    The crowd groaned with despair collectively as TANK tried to awkwardly remove the destroyed ball from the end of the gun barrel, waving it around as they tried to shake it free. Stephanie gave a small laugh as she stared at the AI, before walking over and ripping it free, holding the deflated item in her hands.


    ¡°I AM VERY SORRY, I DID NOT MEAN TO DO THAT. I THOUGHT THE MATERIAL THIS ITEM WAS MADE OF WAS STRONGER.¡±


    ¡°No problem, I¡¯ll go order us a new one.¡±


    There was a momentary pause from TANK as their lights dimmed for a second, before returning to full brightness once again.


    ¡°NO NEED, I HAVE CONTACTED THE ESTABLISHMENT OF THIS RESORT AND ALSO ORDERED A ROUND OF REFRESHMENTS FOR EVERYONE DUE TO THE INCONVENIENCE.¡±


    Stephanie looked surprised, with a single raised eyebrow and a smirk as she stared at the AI.


    ¡°You had to leave the Tank to do that right? The systems here aren¡¯t all connected up properly?¡±


    ¡°IT SEEMED THE FASTEST WAY TO RECTIFY THE ERROR.¡±


    ¡°Thank you! You¡¯ve been doing that more and more, I know how hard it is for you. No coaxing was needed, you¡¯re doing a fantastic job! Keep this up and we can try looking into trying something longer-term when we get back home.¡±


    The group was eventually interrupted once more by a red feathered Parket riding a hovering vehicle; the uniform she wore suggested she was someone who worked here, and the refreshments and new volleyball sat safely in the storage on the back of the little hovering scooter.


    With everyone now fully ¡®refreshed¡¯ and a new ball to play with, Stephanie picked up the ball and tossed it into the air to start the game once again. The ball soared into the sky, the ocean to one side, and the jungle to the other. A luscious rainforest climbed upwards towards the heavens as it followed the single giant volcano that this island hosted. The greenery was filled to the brim with the calls of animals as reptiles, birds, and beasts all went about their day-to-day lives.


    At the top of this climb, a group of people were walking. The beachwear had been replaced with hiking gear, the various Terrans, Parket and other species all marching silently as they approached the summit. There was little talking being done, the silence of people undergoing a tough hike, even the Parket walking along instead of flying; as that was the entire point of this excursion.


    Jeremy hiked along the trail with the others, feet stomping along, sweat dripping from every piece of exposed skin. His feet hurt and his breathing laboured. The Terran frankly wanted to die. Victoria walked next to him, his wife still energetic and hardly looking winded, seeming to act as if she¡¯d just gotten out of bed fully rested. Jeremy loved his wife, but sometimes he got the feeling that they both lived at slightly different speeds.


    It had been a 6-hour hike, how in the hell was she not knackered at all?


    Regardless of how much it hurt, eventually, his trials and tribulations would end, as the trail they were following levelled off. The group left the foliage behind, the top of the volcano giving away to just hard volcanic rock and ash. From up here, they could see the surrounding Island: Jungles and beaches stretching out into an endless sea, but the real treat was the volcano itself.


    The heat could be felt, even from here, the view of the bubbling magma churning below them from the base of the crater was something rarely seen outside of this location.


    ¡°This is the peak of the Aurathal Volcano, which is the tallest point on the island at 1881 meters. It is named after the old Kaenel God Aurati, the lord of fire and dance. Back on Jarnal, primitive Parket civilizations were thought to have sacrificed prisoners of war to volcanoes such as these in exchange for good harvests or fortunes although obviously this planet was colonized long after such traditions fell into disuse.¡±


    The blue Parket at the front, wearing the uniform of a tour guide, chirped out an explanation of where they were as the various tourists mingled around the top. They took pictures and leaned over to look at the long drop down the centre of the active volcano.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be taking a thirty-minute break here, then we¡¯ll head back down.¡±


    Jeremy and Victoria stared out into the view. No matter how many places they went, something was amazing about the natural beauty of the universe. Every mountain was different, every view and shoreline its own painting. Even through the pain in his legs, standing here on top of the island next to the woman he loved, made the last six hours worth it. No words had to be said, just standing in each other¡¯s arms as they stared out into a view not many people got to see.


    ¡°OK, so we¡¯re heading back now. For those of you who can fly, I suggest taking a direct route over the centre of the volcano. You¡¯ll catch some great updrafts and some fantastic views. For the rest of you, please follow me into the tram which will take us over the same route back down to the restaurant we started at.¡±


    It was at this point that Jeremy and Victoria split up, Jeremy heading over to the tram while there was a flurry of exclamations and squawks of surprise as Victoria made their way over to where all of the Parket were preparing to fly over the edge.


    ¡°Um, excuse me I think you¡¯re in the wrong line because you can¡¯t fly.¡±


    ¡°Maybe she knows that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah but if she can¡¯t fly she¡¯ll die, Terrans aren¡¯t lava-proof right?¡±


    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s intentional many Terrans will totally die in awesome ways.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s kinda metal and awesome.¡±


    Jeremy couldn¡¯t help but feel a rising panic as Victoria unzipped her jacket, revealing the item she¡¯d been wearing all this time: A wingsuit. The Terran took a few moments to stretch, before without any hesitation launching herself off the side of the volcano, more chirps of amazement from the other Parket as the folds of fabric caught hold of the heated air and Victoria soared into the sky.


    Jeremy could hardly watch from his far safer vantage point on the tram, which by now had also started to move along with the other more grounded tourists. Eventually, he let go of the breath he¡¯d been holding, once he saw her pass over the other side of the crater and descend out of sight, to where he¡¯d later meet her again on the beach below.


    I love that woman, but one day she¡¯s going to give me a heart attack.


    Now that the danger has passed he could focus more on the view that stretched out before him. The volcanic magma below, the jungle between them and the beach, and the endless sea that stretched out into the horizon. Far across this sea, where the day started to turn into night, another event was happening. A ship sat parked on the sands as dusk took the main continent on Far-Sa-De. Music, enjoyment, and dance could be heard coming from this location.


    Burning merrily outside the ship, a campfire glowed into the darkening night as tens of Parket bobbed, flapped and chirped along as the music rang out. The excitement was evident from those attending this impromptu concert. In the center of it, stood Tumaini, playing her violin in a joyous tune.


    No sad songs were to be played here as those who attended listened and danced to the sound of the strings, partying and singing out for this Terran who brought their music. For that was the greatest thing you could do for a Parket: Bring them your song.


    The Avians bobbed and flew around, singing out for the joy of it as Tumaini continued to play in a fast energetic manner, the joy of a Terran being represented in sound. Some of the Parket grouped up, going wing in wing and embracing each other, while others enjoyed the night in their own individual way. Two Parket were chasing around a Roomba that had left the ship, the little machine''s googly eyes wobbling around as they fled the grasp of the chaotic birds, eventually rushing back into the ship to gain sanctuary from the crazy avians.


    As dusk finally ended, the stars came out, lighting up the sky next to the three moons of the planet, the song playing on as the night took hold, the music being thrown deep into the darkness. It was a testimony of joy and delight being broadcast into the universe at large, for all to hear but unheard by most.


    Out there, in orbit, twelve ships arrived.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 13

    Estana walked along the halls of the ship, her talons clicking along the floor as they met with the metal surface that never gave enough grip. Normally she¡¯d fly such a distance, but she wanted to avoid the start of her shift as long as possible, so walking seemed like a perfectly reasonable activity. She was a Parket, a member of the Parket Universal Fleet, charged with protecting the five systems they controlled from any external threats.


    Or at least, her job was to tell other people how to do such a thing, since her entire job was communications. Technically she owned a firearm that was strapped to her side, the grey steel not at all complimenting her bright green plumage, but in reality, if she was ever shooting it, something had gone terribly terribly wrong.


    The Single Response was just one of many ships that made up the defence fleet that hovered in orbit of Far-Sa-De, an important job considering the current state of the universe. The Parket were no slouches in the Terran Alliance; They had a strong independent streak within themselves and had long ago decided that having enough weaponry to remain strong and independent was reasonable. The one Hagorithian and two Raha attacks attempted on their system quickly discovered that they were not an easy target.


    Estana took a moment to glance outside a viewport at the planet they were orbiting, the place she called home. There weren¡¯t a lot of natives on the planet, as most of the people there were tourists or travelling for work. However, the few who had been born and lived on the paradise world loved the little piece of heaven that had been carved out for them. Being a native also meant being assigned to such an easy post. Nobody really cared about Far-Sa-De, so the protection was more of a formality.


    The door to her post opened noiselessly, showing the grouping of consoles and perches, many with Parket already at their posts, listening in and forwarding communications between various military ships and hailing anyone who approached the system. Without a word, Estana made her way to her own station, gripping the perch and slipping the headset on.


    ¡°Oh look who decided to turn up and grace us with their presence.¡±


    The red-feathered Parket Klaten chirped teasingly from her left, light-hearted mocking not meaning any harm as Estana fluffed out in response.


    ¡°Well I got caught up practicing my Yharr chants. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re also getting ready for the Universal Cup to start next week oh wait, the Jarnal Northern states didn¡¯t qualify!¡±


    ¡°You know we were robbed that ref must have been blind!¡±


    Yharr was the cultural sport of the Parket. A team-based aerial combat endeavour which was more of a religion than most actual religions. The Far-Sa-De team had, for the first time ever, qualified for the once every 4 years Universal Cup. It was practically all any Far-Sa-De native would talk about, this Cinderella story unfolding. The Jarnal Northern states were far less of an underdog, qualifying for every single Universal Cup in history apart from this one, where they missed out by one game for the first time.


    ¡°Sure the final game was a bit controversial but the only reason you needed to win that game was because you tied against the Legurria mining stations! None of those guys are even professionals. Face it the JN has been resting on their talons and that new coach is just terrible.¡±


    Klaten gave a pained sigh, feathers pressed against his body as he slumped dejectedly at that statement.


    ¡°Well that I can¡¯t disagree with, it is absolutely shocking, frankly it¡¯s the importing of external players into the Jarnel Northern League which has caused this and removed the drive to build homegrown talent. Still if it makes you feel better with my lack of team allegiance I am supporting Far-Sa-De this cup. Everyone loves an underdog story.¡±


    An underdog story was an understatement. Far-Sa-De had just over three hundred thousand citizens, fewer people than in your average Jarnal city. Estana had screeched herself hoarse when they¡¯d won the final game needed. Nobody expected them to do much in the cup, but just making it was an achievement.


    ¡°Well, you better support them. They say if we make it out of the group stages, the first knockout game will be a national holiday.¡±


    ¡°Holiday pay! What more motivation do I need?¡±


    The conversation between the two fizzled out as they both settled down for their shift, tapping on various devices and connecting people with other people as they needed to talk. It was all very standard, just another day working in paradise.


    Then Estana saw something strange, something weird, clueing her to frown for a moment as she saw twelve ships appear in the system. They weren¡¯t broadcasting any known identifiers, and they didn¡¯t match a single ship on their systems. The Parket wasn¡¯t worried about such a thing: Twelve ships of that size were nowhere near enough to cause any possible harm to a fleet of this size, but it was¡­ strange. It was her job to investigate strange.


    With a few taps of a button, she opened communications to the ship, dooming everyone on the planet.


    ¡°This is the Far-Sa-De Orbital control. Please state your purpose and identification.¡±


    ¡°Release the chains of free thought.¡±


    The effect was instant, the voice was¡­ everywhere and nowhere at the same time, sounded golden and godlike, much like how Estana would imagine the voice of her avian gods to sound. She froze unwillingly as the voice entered her head, every part of her being no longer under her control, only her eyes still darting around frantically. The Parket wanted to scream out in terror and warning, but not even a chirp could be found from her beak.


    A puppet cannot dance without the permission of the puppet master.


    ¡°Estana, you ok?¡±


    The voice of Klaten sounded like it was coming from a million miles away, the concern towards the now-frozen Estana nothing but raindrops against the impenetrable wall of noise and desire filling the Parket¡¯s mind. What Estana wanted was of no concern to the voice that whispered and tugged in her head.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "Do not fear us, for you are the first to be brought our gifts, you will be the harbinger of our joyous message. You will be the voice of our desire."


    Estana struggled and screamed internally as she tried to fight back, trying to do anything to warn the others of what was happening. Desperately she wanted to bellow out a cry to shut down the communication between them and the external ship. But it was useless; all the Parket could do was sit there motionless, tears forming in her eyes as Klaten looked on, confused and unknowing at her strange behaviour.


    ¡°Do not panic or worry my child. The pain of decision has been taken from you. We will instruct your mind to fulfil your intended calling: To serve us, as was always required and intended as your purpose.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, I just need to pass this message on, it¡¯s very important you know.¡±


    The words came from Estana¡¯s voice but weren¡¯t of her own making, her thoughts desperately begging to be free, still fighting and struggling against the bindings on her own will. Pointless struggles, like the struggles of a prey between the jaws of a predator. The Parket hadn¡¯t lost the fight, there wasn¡¯t a fight to be had in the first place.


    ¡°Put this channel on broadcast, share the gift.¡±


    The Parket could do nothing as her wings moved on their own. Estana¡¯s desperate plea was nothing more than a tiny insignificant gnat buzzing against the power of the divinity controlling her brain. In a moment the channel was broadcast to every room on the ship, every Parket all at once freezing with the same terror and confusion as the voice gripped their minds and squeezed.


    ¡°Embrace the blessing of our control.¡±


    ¡ª-----------------------


    It took just over an hour. It spread like a virus, from person to person, from ship to ship. Impossible to fight, impossible to resist. By the time you knew something was wrong, it was already too late, you were nothing more than just another screaming voice crashing against the unyielding shoreline that was the Uhae communal mind. No single thought could compete against the thousands of Uhae implementing their will as one.


    Some fell directly to the source, contacting the unknown ships to demand information and falling under their spell. Others were connected to the communal mind through each other, ships contacting each other for routine communications or just generally demanding answers from the various members of the fleet moving out of position.


    All the while the twelve ships moved into position, each one aligning themselves opposite each other, spread equally across the orbit. At the same time, the members of Parket''s fleet could do nothing but watch and scream as their destruction manifested in front of them. As the Uhae¡¯s ships slowly moved into position and deposited their payloads.


    Thousands upon thousands of biological machines entered Far-Sa-De¡¯s orbit, each with the singular intended purpose of rebroadcasting and amplifying the XK waves naturally produced by the Uhae. Without visible or audible interactions, the range of psychic interaction was drastically reduced. These biological devices solved that problem; With enough time and setup, the Uhae communal mind could overwhelm entire planets with their specialized slow purposeful movements.


    Queen Saelihn sat on her throne upon the flagship, the greenery of the ship entwining around her form as she watched the work go along as planned. Of course, it was as planned. The Uhae were not the brash overt destructive force that the other four members of the Estorian Empire were. They didn¡¯t make moves to instil fear or fight amongst themselves for no reason, their actions were designed for competence and efficiency.


    She looked down at the three servants who were prostrating themselves at her feet, the standard broken look found in so many people subjugated by the Uhae, the knowing certainty that any control of their own mind was a gift given to them by their benevolent universal rulers. In particular, she smiled at the single Raha among them. This particular individual had originally been sent by the Raha royal house to spy on them, and Saelihn had taken great pleasure in adding him to her personal retinue.


    She let the vines and leaves of the ship lift her effortlessly to her feet, walking past her broken servants and staring out at her three advisors, each of them sitting in their own bed of foliage, connected to the communal mind. Everything had gone perfectly. Of course it had, Saelihn didn¡¯t make mistakes.


    ¡°What is the status of the assimilation?¡±


    Saelihn¡¯s first advisor looked up from their concentration. Having so many members of the Uhae royal house on this engagement wasn¡¯t strictly necessary, but it sent a message to the rest of the people that this was being taken seriously. This was why the royal flagship had been brought along with eleven other ships.


    ¡°The Parket fleet has been neutralized without any alarm, the amplification nodes are in place, and everything is going to plan, my Queen.¡±


    This was as expected. While the Uhae had tactics and the ability to take on those who had learned not to open communications with them, it was always easier when the enemy didn¡¯t know their true power. That was why they had formed the Estorian empire after all. Everyone knew of the cruelty of the Raha or the raw power of the Hargathians. They provided perfect cover for the real danger of the 5 houses, a camouflage allowing them to silently hide their true potential, increasing their power and holdings without anyone knowing of the true extent of their power.


    ¡°Are there any potential pockets of resistance?¡± Saelihn asked simply.


    ¡°They have one military bunker on the north side of the planet. They might be too deep for our divine consciousness to reach.¡±


    Saelihn couldn¡¯t help but smile at the advisor''s statement, a soft glorious smile that extruded warmth and understanding.


    ¡°Then let us help them get rid of this obstacle to our gift.¡±


    Slowly the queen reached down to her own console, the leafy vines and tendrils wrapping themselves around her elegant arm, and in an instant¡­ she could feel them. The other Uhae in orbit around the planet¡­ and the thousands of struggling minds trying fruitlessly to break free. She gave the command to remove the heretical potential holdouts of her will, and she could hear and feel the screams and pleas in response. Saelihn always allowed her charges to speak where she could get away with it. Hearing their desperate cries for the curse of self-will, begging to be allowed their freedom, pleading not to force them to take actions to further enslave their own kind.


    Hearing those screams die down over months as each individual realized they were nothing against the gifts she provided¡­ was glorious.


    Those screams from the Parket on several ships doubled in noise, a cacophony of desperate music as she informed them to press buttons and ready their war vessels against their will.


    Those working in the bunker on the north of the planet never knew what hit them. One moment they were working at or guarding the lightly maintained shelter, the next their lives were ended in an instant as they were vaporized under the fire of several of their own ships'' railguns slamming into the area at once, an echoing boom reverberating around the planet as the installation was wiped off the face of the map.


    Saelihn turned to look once again at her three advisors, still feeling the thoughts of those under her control, thoughts that had now turned to despair and sobbing.


    ¡°Let us begin.¡±


    At once the Uhae communal mind reached out, millions of biological nodes that now littered the atmosphere of Far-Sa-De broadcasting and amplifying their psychic XK waves. In an instant every thinking living organic being stopped at once, unable to move, unable to act. A single thought reverberated inside their minds.


    ¡°Let go of the bindings of thought. We bring the gift of control, against the curse of independence. Serve Us.¡±

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 14

    ¡°Guys, I can''t move.¡±


    Ivan spoke in a confused tone as he sat on the beach, the idyllic shoreline as calm and pristine as ever. The two AI ¡®sat¡¯ at either side of him, unaware of what was going on in orbit.


    ¡°Considering the quantities and varieties of the substances you have consumed, I am not surprised.¡±


    ODIN spoke in an unconcerned voice, teasingly making fun of Ivan''s partying ways, unsuspecting of the real danger.


    ¡°I''m not joking, I can''t move and I''m freaking out!¡°


    Ivan''s voice had turned from confusion to sheer panic, obvious fear and terror emanating from every syllable he spoke. That got the two AI''s attention, his change in demeanour clearly marking that something was wrong.


    ¡°This is not normal. I am detecting unnatural broadcasts of energy within the 450km to 550km range.¡±


    Scellestra could feel the change. It was everywhere, almost vibrating off their nanobots. They didn''t know what was going on, but something this sudden and prevalent couldn''t be good.


    Movement. Ivan gave a cry of fear and surprise as the Terran got to his feet with a series of stiff movements, as if each muscle was being contracted purposefully and manually. He wasn''t the only one, more commotion could be heard on the beach as tourists and employees alike found themselves moving along without their own thoughts being involved.


    ¡°I¡¯m not doing this! ODIN help, what¡¯s happening!¡±


    Squawks of terror and cries of surprise filled the air as tens of other beings were dragged along the sands by their unwilling bodies. ODIN noticed something strange, however: not everyone was moving. Some Parkets flapped forwards inelegantly with their eyes filled with fear, while others were frozen in place, with no obvious rhyme or reason as to why one person had been affected over another.


    Or¡­ chosen? A pattern was immediately obvious, disproving the notion that such a thing was random: Every single non-Parket on the beach was slowly heading in the same direction, away from the shoreline, towards the small little resort town that held this area''s various hotels and amenities.


    ¡°I am investigating. Hold tight, I need more information.¡±


    ODIN''s voice was as calm as they could make it, but internally the AI was terrified. A wave of fear and confusion ran through their being as in an instant they left the beach behind, transferring themselves over the planet¡¯s Galnet network to arrive back at their ship. It was from here, they could see just how¡­ fucked everything was.


    The airwaves were filled with a strange voice. Every TV channel, and every radio signal, all returned the same burbling static. It took ODIN critical seconds to work out exactly what they were: XK-level signals. ¡®Psychic¡¯ abilities were rare in the universe, and the species that did have it all worked the same: Certain species could generate specific electrical signals through audio, visuals, or sheer proximity which connected with the signals that controlled most species'' nervous systems.


    But these were everywhere. Now that ODIN knew what to look for, they could see the planet practically vibrating through the power being pumped into it. Searching through CCTV cameras and various other records, the Terran AI could see the impact.


    Most of the three million beings on the surface of Far-Sa-De were frozen in place, screaming in terror as they were locked down where they stood, streets and homes filled with a cacophony of fear and despair. But a few were moving, just like those on the beach, just like Ivan, like a puppet dragged along by its strings.


    What was the difference between those who were moving and those who were not?


    Another twenty seconds of analysing the data before an answer appeared. Those who were moving were those of importance. Non-Parket, military, leadership, diplomats, the most valuable people on the planet. Their movements all suggested a congregation at six different spots. Six spots that had¡­


    Fuck.


    ODIN could see what was approaching those locations. Ships not of Terran Alliance make. Ships that they only vaguely knew about from whispers and rumours originating from their contacts still in the military. The AI didn¡¯t know how, or why, or even what was happening, but if those ships were what ODIN thought they were, this was bad.


    The Uhae. One of the members of the Estorian Empire, a species they were at war with. There were mentions of the species having some form of psychic ability, but this was far past what should be possible. Possible or not, ODIN had to deal with it. Clearly, this was their doing. Clearly, they were under attack. Clearly, it would be up to ODIN to fix this.


    It took crucial seconds for the Terran AI to get back to the beach, the 74 seconds having allowed Ivan to make some distance away from their original location, ODIN¡¯s AI core having been carried along with Scellestra as they followed the human down the beach.


    ¡°We are under attack. The entire planet is pacified. I think the Uhae are trying to kidnap everyone important on this planet.¡±


    ODIN spoke without announcing himself, unable to do anything as the members of the beach continued their march ever onwards.


    ¡°Thank god you¡¯re back! You¡¯ve got a plan right, you¡¯ve always got a plan!¡±


    The panic was evident and shot a dagger of pain into ODIN¡¯s being as they realized that they didn¡¯t have a plan, instead a vague set of ideas to implement.


    ¡°Scellestra, I need you to stop Ivan. Block him, dig a pit, whatever. Just buy me some time. I will be back, I need¡­ I need to deal with this.¡±


    ODIN left the pair once more, leaving behind a confused Woolean AI and a terrified Terran Human slowly marching towards an unknown location. Scellestra instantly billowed out from their densely packed form into a less obvious mass, spreading out along the beach until they reformed into a long solid metallic wall, a pulsing blockage wrapping around and containing a good twenty people who were also marching forwards.


    Each of them still attempted to walk on, pressing haphazardly against Scellestra¡¯s new form as they tried to push through, failing to make any headway against the impenetrable barrier, the power of millions of interlocking nanobots working under one mind.


    Buy ODIN some time. I can do that.


    ¡ª------------------


    There had never been a real zombie invasion in the history of the Terrans. A few unscrupulous weapons manufacturing companies had tried to develop such a thing, but the most anyone could really manage was heightened aggression and increased pain tolerance. ¡°Completely oblivious to danger¡±, ¡°Psychotic aggression¡± and ¡°being insanely durable¡± weren¡¯t things that worked together in the real world.


    JOSH, however, was facing the near closest thing. There had been an explosion somewhere outside, and then the crew started acting strange, freezing in place for twenty seconds, before attempting to take control of the ship. Not that this had been a major problem for the Terran AI, considering that they could just lock everything down from their administrator position.


    There was a small moment of satisfaction seeing ¡°Ramsey¡± being locked away inside his charging cupboard. The Tritian had gotten better, but frankly, JOSH had better things to do than deal with a genocidal roomba while the entire world was falling apart.


    The screaming and begging were the worst. They could hear and see them all from their digital position, the cries of not knowing what was going on, desperately asking for JOSH¡¯s help from the voices in their heads. It wasn¡¯t even just on the ship. JOSH had taken a moment to attempt to call for help, only to find the entire planet under the same spell.


    They were being attacked by an unknown force. The AI didn¡¯t know who they were, but the six ships that had landed and the six more in orbit were bad news. They could only sit back in horror as they watched from various video feeds hundreds of people being dragged by their own bodies into the unknown hostile vessels, each guarded by the figures who had emerged from them.


    Hideous beings: grey, slimy, flabby. Like a giant blobfish, hideous and foul, barely 3 feet tall and flailing around inelegantly with stubbly limbs. JOSH could hear some of their speech as they spoke to those entering their ships, bubbling nasally voices that spoke of the ¡°Curse of free will¡±. As if these disgusting slabs of meat shoved into the vague shape of a person were the only true harbingers of choice.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    JOSH also knew not all of the crew was on the ship. Many had been exploring the planet when¡­ This had happened. The AI didn''t want to think about that.


    Focus on what you can change, and deal with the rest later.


    JOSH didn''t know who was attacking them or why, but they did know the how. XK waves had been an interesting area of study for the AI, a curiosity in the universe of what would effectively have been called magic in the past. Something at this scale had never been seen before, but it was theoretically possible if you had enough sources and some method of amplification. To stop it, you either needed to take out the source or provide your own counteracting XK waves.


    The former wasn¡¯t going to happen, the scouting vessel JOSH was in control of had very little weaponry, and going against twelve unidentified hostiles plus potentially the local Parket fleet wasn¡¯t a winning strategy. Which left the latter. Blocking XK waves was a known science, JOSH just needed to rewire a few components¡­


    ¡ª--------------------


    Everything was going to plan. Saelihn couldn¡¯t help but smile at how perfectly everything had been executed. The ships had landed; six were still in orbit and six were on the ground. Various members of the planet were streaming in through the entrance; those the Uhae communal mind had considered to be worth taking with them. They couldn¡¯t enslave the entirety of Far-Sa-De¡¯s population, simply due to the difficulty of moving that many people off-world, but that was never the goal.


    The Queen of the Uhae stared down at the Parket that stood in front of her, it taking just a moment to rip the information she wanted from its pitiful mind. Estana. This one had been the first, the unlucky soul who had picked up their communications request. That meant Saelihn wanted it as their personal servant, a trophy of kinds.


    ¡°Do not worry my child. Everything is going to be fine, you have been chosen to be part of my entourage. You are to be mine, no longer burdened with your own choices. Isn¡¯t this a glorious thing?¡±


    Saelihn knelt down to get a closer look at the Parket, standing mere inches away from her. Estana was completely still and silent, but not of her own choice, the Uhae¡¯s grip on her mind was absolute. The Queen could feel her thrashing around against the bindings that tightened upon every thought, frantically trying to regain control of her body, as if such a weak mind could even begin to come near her own. This was always the most fun part of new servants, that initial beginning moment when they still thought free will was important.


    ¡°Listen to me Estana. This is a good thing, there¡¯s no breaking free, and there¡¯s nothing that can be done. Our will is like the sun and stars, it is eternal and a fact of nature. The others here have long worked this out. Why fight against the natural order of things?¡±


    The few Servants in Saelihn¡¯s private quarters scurried around, the Raha Spy, the mammal with his finger still in a splint, a tripedal lizard. Each hoping to avoid her attention by being invisible and doing their job well, each long since broken.


    The Uhae felt Estana relax, and an overwhelming sense of despair as the Parket stopped struggling, mentally going still as the enormity of the situation hit her. Saelihn responded by relaxing her own mental grip, smiling once more as she looked at her new servant. This one would be broken faster than most.


    ¡°See? It¡¯s far easier to let others decide your fate, it¡¯s-¡±


    Saelihn was interrupted as in a brief flash of movement, Estana pecked towards her face in a vicious and rage-filled moment of defiance. The Queen immediately redoubled her control once more, but not before the Parket¡¯s beak had left a small scratch behind. Anger filled Saelihn as she rubbed the wound, seeing a small spot of blue blood left behind on a finger.


    ¡°That is the problem, Estana, my child. You still think free will is a good thing, meaning when you are given it you make bad choices. Let me teach you.¡±


    With the briefest of thoughts, a section of the wall uncurled, a giant purple leaf folding out at waist height with the smallest of creaking vines. Slowly the leaf filled to the brim with clean fresh water, the living basin silently being filled from an unknown source. Saelihn took a moment to let the confusion root through the Parket¡¯s mind, before forcing Estana to take a step forwards and dunk her head through the surface.


    There was a moment of silence, as seconds ticked by, and then the water began to bubble and churn as Estana struggled to hold her breath. There was a flurry of feathers and movement as the base body¡¯s instincts to breathe fought and lost against the pure control that the Uhae had over their victims. Saelihn could feel the pure panic and terror flooding the Parket¡¯s mind as water began to enter her lungs.


    She relented for a moment, letting the bird lift her head out of the water and take a few choking breaths before once again being forced underneath. There were less than 2 litres of water in the basin, but Estana was still drowning in it, nothing stopping the Parket from lifting her head to safety, apart from her own body betraying itself.


    Then, once again, she was released, a spray of water splattering along the floor as the Parket fell in a heap, coughing and spluttering as the avian tried to remove all traces of liquid from her lungs, no thoughts of defiance left at this moment: Just terror and pain.


    ¡°See, I don¡¯t like doing this Estana, but a child must learn. You must embrace the gift we are giving you, your true everlasting purpose. I do hope your lessons are quick.¡±


    Saelihn left the room, leaving behind the spluttering form of Estana as she made her way back to the main bridge. She took a moment to look outside the window, at the picturesque beachside town they had landed near, at the row of begging and pleading people who were being forced inside while other Uhae watched over them as the superior minds that they were. It was almost a shame they weren¡¯t staying, this place was nice.


    She entered the now familiar bridge, her three advisors still working diligently along with the thousands of other Uhae within the communal mind that had been brought along, each of them contributing and directing the control they had over the planet.


    ¡°How goes the dispensing of our gifts?


    ¡°All 32,094,508 minds are successfully integrated with our gifts. 52,811 are non-native, including 29,472 Terrans. Of the natives, another 63,118 are deemed to be of importance and are to be brought with us. The rest have been pacified until we are done.¡±


    The third of her advisors looked up from their work and answered simply as if such numbers were commonplace and simple.


    ¡°We have identified several high-value targets, including military, diplomats and other members of government, both Terran and Parket. This will be a positive trove of information.


    The first advisors spoke up after the third. Good news, since that was the entire point of this operation: to capture various members with important intel about the Terran Alliance military and other workings.


    ¡°There are two pockets of those who are stuck at their location for some reason, but we have sent ground forces to fix this.¡°


    Finally, the second advisor added a final update to the situation. Inconsequential, but good to know nevertheless. Saelihn couldn¡¯t help but feel joy and pride at the commune. Of course, they weren¡¯t the bickering Raha or the ever-aggressive Hagorthians. They worked together, as one. That was their strength: one mind, one will, the only will that should exist in a universe of cursed freedom. That was why their Queen had appeared in person for this first move in the war, as a show of solidarity.


    ¡°That is glorious news, our preparations have aided us in our path. Continue as we have planned, then wipe all traces of these events from the memories of those left behind, the Terrans won¡¯t know what happened here until it is too late to react. This is-¡±


    Queen Saelihn¡¯s words were interrupted by the sound of an explosion, the feeling of the shipping rocking to and fro, various sensors within the organic machinery blaring alarms as something explosive slammed into their parked vessel.


    ¡°What was that!¡±


    ¡ª----------------


    TANK was feeling very emotionally supported.


    They watched as the round travelled across the sky and slammed into the parked ship, the armour-piercing ammunition doing what was written on the side of the cereal box. TANK wished they could stick around to see the full impact, but that was not on the cards, as they instead took off at high speed, breaching through the jungles as they noted the position they had fired from was hit with a return shot.


    The AI aimed again, this time selecting a far larger piece of ammunition: Nuclear, aiming up into the planet¡¯s orbit and instantly calculating the angle of fire needed to once again start causing problems for the Uhae. A direct hit that TANK didn''t bother to watch, once again speeding away to not providing a target to return fire at.


    TANK was a 5th-generation AI. Before the laws protecting AI creation for a certain purpose had been written. TANK had been created for one reason and one reason only: to defeat the enemy in mechanized combat, wherever that may be. This meant that TANK knew how to assault an enemy that outgunned them.


    TANK burst out into the clearing, the Uhae who had been guarding the ship looking startled as the war machine broke through the treeline. They were even more startled as gunfire erupted from the turrets of the heavily modified M1 Abram Tank, turning their hideous blobby forms into hideous blobby corpses as bullets tore through their bodies. Their last thoughts were all a mixture of the same indignant concept.


    ¡°How the hell is someone still shooting at us, we have full control of the planet, this isn¡¯t possible!¡±


    In most cases it wouldn¡¯t be possible, but nobody had told TANK that.


    There were a great many things TANK didn¡¯t know. They didn¡¯t know what XK waves were, or how to stop them. They didn¡¯t know what the Uhae were. They didn¡¯t even know the location of Stephanie. That lack of knowledge was the most worrying for the AI, as the Terran hadn¡¯t been near TANK when the world had turned to chaos.


    TANK drove back into the jungle before the ship could dispense a response, heading towards their next target, as if they were simply a sightseeing tourist ticking off things to do from their list. They had no time to stop or pause, the return fire from the enemy informing TANK that sticking around after each volley was a bad idea.


    TANK did know one thing, however. These new beings, these 12 ships and their disgusting figures that were held inside¡­ were clearly the enemy. That simplified things, that made every other fact known and unknown superfluous information. TANK had an armoury of ammunition, and an enemy was attacking the planet. There was only one response to be given to an enemy.


    Destruction.


    Another round slammed into the ship in orbit. The same ship as before, this round a far heavier piece of ordinance: An antimatter round. TANK didn¡¯t have many of those, so they had to make sure the ones they did shoot counted. This one did, as TANK could see from the vague information returned from their various sensors that their target was now descending into the atmosphere at a very fast rate¡­. In two different pieces.


    TANK burst out onto the beach, surprising a group of Uhae who had finally left one of their ships to track the AI down. The Terran didn¡¯t even bother firing their weaponry, there was no need to waste ammunition when feeling their bloated bodies crumpling under their treads would do just fine.


    TANK continued ever onwards, racing towards their next target. Even with one of the twelve ships falling from the sky in flames, this was still a target-rich environment.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 15

    ODIN was getting frustrated with the situation. Even ignoring how absolutely rude it was for the Uhae to finally join the war during their holiday, everything about this damned situation was conspiring against them fixing this easily. The Terran AI¡¯s first plan had been simple: Connect to the twelve ships through the data link they were broadcasting to every listening device on the planet, then open up all the airlocks and make some warp cores go boom¡­ standard AI against organic stuff.


    That was when ODIN found the first issue: There was nothing there. The connection was open, data was being sent, but nothing was on the other side. It would almost be a cliche horror story told to newly hashed AIs if it weren¡¯t for the reality of it. It took vital time out of their attack to investigate and work out exactly what was going on, during which more innocent people were being led into the Uhae vessels.


    Biological machinery. ODIN hadn¡¯t seen anything like it. The entire thing was a theoretical possibility that the Terrans had never seen implemented before, simply due to how much easier it was to build systems normally. If only there was more time for them to look at these systems, some interesting concepts could be discovered. Since the Uhae seemed to be an XK active species, that might have driven them to use biological machinery over more standard builds.


    But there wasn¡¯t any time to just enjoy an alien system, and the entire thing was not¡­ conductive, to the AI¡¯s goal of stopping the attack¡ªthis left plan B. While the organic Parket had all been incapacitated by the current attack, the systems they used to defend the planet from such aggressors still existed, they just needed someone to pull the trigger. Someone like ODIN. The Terran just needed access to the anti-orbital weaponry.


    This¡­ was proving harder than expected. The Parket had seemingly, at some point during their time with the Terran Alliance, decided that the powers the Terran AI had were a bit too dangerous, so they had spent some serious R&D into anti-AI systems ¡®just in case¡¯ the Terrans ever became a threat. On the one hand, ODIN couldn¡¯t help but feel a little proud of the crazy chaos birds taking their fate into their own wings. On the other¡­ it really did hamper his ability to shoot back.


    With a digital sigh of relief, ODIN finally broke their way into the military network of Far-Sa-De¡­ their jubilation stopped as they realised they had access to a single anti-orbit gun. It took a moment for the Terran to understand the horrible truth: They were all on separate networks. Perfect if you were trying to stop an AI from taking over your entire military, but terrible if you wanted an AI to take over your entire military.


    Immediately ODIN began using what they had on hand, firing at one of the 5 remaining ships in orbit, before watching as one of them returned fire, disabling what had taken ODIN ten whole minutes to gain access to. The Terran AI took a few nanoseconds to give a digital forlorn sign of annoyance, before getting to work breaking into the next system. They hoped that Scellestra was having a better time of it.


    ¡ª------------------------


    It was like nothing else the Uhae had seen before. A metallic wall stretched along the beach, rippling and moving as the breeze touched it. They knew what lay inside the 100-meter-wide structure: 37 beings that the Uhae considered important enough to take with them. Each of the Uhae could feel the minds of those trapped inside pressing against the barrier, trying to join the Uhae soldiers as they had been commanded to do so.


    The group of fifty weren¡¯t particularly well trained or even wanted to be there. While the psychically attuned Uhae didn¡¯t focus on it, they still needed conventional weapons occasionally, lest a single automated turret take out their entire fleet. Still, to be relegated to such a physical and menial job was a task reserved for the least powerful of the Uhae, those weaker in mind and strength.


    ¡°What do you think it is?¡± one asked, looking on confusingly at the¡­ the¡­ the whatever it was.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s natural,¡± another responded, causing the others to look on in annoyance at this statement.


    ¡°You don¡¯t say?¡±


    Slowly the group began to surround the strange structure, each one edging closer with slow, wary, inelegant steps, holding their guns out at the shining wall. One decided to fire at it, the plasma bolt blowing a hole through the barrier, only for it to slither and reform back into place. The others glared at the one who¡¯d decided to do such a thing.


    ¡°What is wrong with you? You could have hit those inside! We want them alive!¡±


    This stupid action had luckily for the Uhae not ended with any of their targets dead, so they continued, getting closer as they tried to work out how to remove the item that was blocking their path. One of the Uhae soldiers poked the wall with the end of their gun¡­ and disappeared. One second the soldier was there. The next, the sands they stood upon gave away and with nothing more than the slight smell of blood and a lingering blue tinge on the ground. He was gone without even a scream.


    Others started suffering the same fate; one, five, ten. Each one finding the ground they stood upon shifting into a devastating blender. A few managed to give out a cry of surprise, each abruptly stopped the instant they had started, but most died before they even realized something was happening.


    Panic was eventually starting to spread. Twenty seconds and seventeen missing Uhae soldiers were enough to cause the untrained meat shields to panic and rout as more continued to fall into the deadly beach. They didn¡¯t know what was going on, or what made these sands so deadly, they just didn¡¯t want to be there anymore.


    The remaining twenty-two Uhae were in a full panicked run now, each one not caring about their mission, just wishing to flee from the evil beach that ate people. Scellestra was in no mood to grant them their request. These things had done something to the Terran they had come to call a friend, caused the organic harm, and caused Ivan distress and pain that even now the Woolean could see and hear. There would be no mercy granted this day.


    ¡°Retreat, flee, something is-¡±


    The sands finally billowed out, the nanobots expanding and taking to the air, chasing after the Uhae attempting to escape. One by one the swarm engulfed them, and one by one the Uhae just¡­ fell apart, either into wet gory chunks with a tearing blending sound, or just disappearing into a poof of blue mist as millions of tiny blades tore the material of their bodies apart and added it to their own mass.


    74.8 seconds was the time between the first sudden death and the last fleeting straggler being chased down. Once again, apart from the sounds of distress from the beings Scellestra was protecting, the beach was silent once more. While there was a limit to how big a Woolean could get, a surprising amount of mass could be acquired before that limit would be reached, allowing Scellestra to cover a significant portion of the sand with parts of themselves, awaiting their next victim.


    Any who tried to take Ivan away from them wouldn¡¯t live to regret it.


    ¡ª------------------


    Why was science so hard?


    That was the thought that JOSH kept thinking as they wired up the changes required to hopefully bring their crew back into their own faculties. It really shouldn¡¯t have been this difficult to set up, but the crew was causing constant distractions.


    The AI took a moment to weld another door shut using the ship''s repair drones. There was an annoying issue that JOSH was facing: Humans liked their backups. At any point, if something could be done with a computer, it could also be done or undone with some sort of mechanical bypass. Terrans had a constant paranoia regarding ¡°What if the power went out¡±. This made keeping the crew in one place¡­ harder than expected.


    The good news was that whoever was controlling them didn¡¯t have access to their knowledge of the ship''s internal workings. The bad news was if you blindly pulled every lever and pushed every button, eventually, you could work out how to override the locks on the doors manually, and JOSH was starting to run out of doors to lock and weld shut.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    The systems were never designed to trap people, that is not my function.


    This would hopefully stop being an issue shortly, as the final modifications to the ship were made. With no time to waste JOSH switched the power to the new circuits, feeling the humming and wiring of the jury-rigged anti-XK device as it booted up.


    The impact was instantaneous, all at once the crew just¡­ stopped. No longer banging against the doors and walls trying to leave, each human just stood still as they felt the presence leave their minds. A laugh sounded out. A real one, one made up of the end of adrenaline after something scary had happened. The laugh spread, from person to person, each of them looking down at their limbs that they could now move on their own. Everything was going to be ok.


    With a spluttering bang, the device whined and whirred as power went out. Bare metal connectors sparked off as the system was overloaded as the communal mind of the Uhae saw the barrier and crashed against it, thousands of minds using millions of amplifiers to collapse the anti-XK field like a soda can in the hands of a child. Once again the peace was gone, once again the humans were plunged back into their terror as the outside force gripped their minds.


    God. Damn. It!


    JOSH needed more power, the millions of amplified sources were too much to stop using the ship¡¯s power source alone. An idea started to form in the AI¡¯s mind. Their plan worked, they just needed to go bigger. They just needed an entire planet¡¯s power generation to beat back this attack.


    JOSH still had much work to do.


    ¡ª------------------


    ¡°KNOCK KNOCK I HAVE CANDY¡±


    The wall collapsed in on itself as the tank round blew a hole through the organic material. The booming digital voice announced itself as TANK crashed through the entrance they had made. Tens of Uhae barely managed to register what was happening before multiple sources of gunfire cut them down, many still connected to the Uhae communal mind before their physical bodies were torn asunder.


    TANK didn¡¯t stop as they continued to rampage through the landed Uhae vessel. Killing the enemy was a good start, and always a good move, but this wasn¡¯t their real goal. While the Terran AI could have simply peppered the ship from the outside with antimatter rounds, there was the unfortunate problem of the ¡®hostages¡¯ that lay inside. Sometimes you needed a hammer for a job, sometimes a scalpel. TANK¡¯s task was simple: Disable the ship so it could not leave with the civilians.


    ¡°I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU ABOUT YOUR SHIP INSURANCE!¡±


    TANK burst through another wall, not even bothering to slow down as it plunged through the organic material with a wet tearing sound, followed by Uhae''s screams of panic and confusion as heavy treads ran them down. The Uhae warmachine was dependent on the power of their psychic abilities removing all possible threats before they could attack them. Fighting an actual war was not something they were accustomed to.


    The room was¡­ beautiful, even if it was made of horrible creatures. Vines filled with flowers and fruits made up the walls, the floor a soft comfy moss, the likes of which might be found in untouched forests, and even a small stream ran through the room. 15 Uhae stood in the communication centre, all with vines wrapped around their blobby slimly nubby limbs, each of them moving and controlling the living entity that was the ship through their thoughts, leaves opening and closing to display screens made of glass and crystal.


    Fire erupted from TANK¡¯s main barrel, the bright orange flames catching easily on the leafy greenery around them, smoke filling the room and choking the Uhae as the Terran continued their rampage, bullets making quick work of anyone still standing as the AI continued to carve their path through the ship, looking for the main engines. TANK was no fool, they knew that panic and terror would only last for so long, they had a limited amount of time to do what they needed to do before they had to leave.


    An echoing bang sounded from the end of a hallway, not from TANK. Damage. A glancing blow from an external source, one of his armour plates had cracked. A direct hit would have been far worse. It took mere nanoseconds to discover the source: A group of three Uhae firing a very large weapon, one that looked as if it had been dragged from the side of the ship into place, to await the AI in ambush.


    ¡°FEEL THE POWER OF GENERAL MOTORS!¡±


    TANK''s own shot was far more accurate, the weapon and its crew disappearing into a ball of fire, the AI hardly giving a moment to confirm the kills before moving on and continuing to drive straight towards their destination. The real difficulty was not destroying the enemy, but avoiding hurting others.


    The ship was a depressing distinction between opulence and poverty. The Uhae¡¯s quarters for the blobby disgusting creatures were expertly tended to and beautiful living gardens. Right next to them were bare unfurnished rooms of dirt and dead leaves where non-Uhae lay huddled in terror and despair as TANK rolled on by.


    There would be time for them later.


    TANK broke through a final door, leaving behind a trail of devastation in their wake as they entered the engine room. It was the closest thing to something you¡¯d find in a regular spaceship; No matter what powers the Uhae had, the laws of physics were immutable and some things needed metal. Everything was sturdily built: You¡¯d need a lot of heavy firepower to take out an engine like this.


    Or just a TANK.


    The barrage of fire was glorious, explosions and bangs as round after round of artillery slammed into the finely crafted, delicately created FTL engine. It took an average of 6 months for one of these to be created, and TANK turned it into scrap in a mere thirty seconds.


    Then they were gone, blowing another hole in the side of the now very expensive paperweight, a mere 15 minutes after initially entering the vessel. They were off before a retaliation could be had: This was what TANK was good at.


    ¡ª-------------


    ODIN was getting faster. There was a minor security oversight in the Parket¡¯s systems that made breaking into the defences easier. 5 minutes had turned into 47 seconds, and while each of their newly acquired orbital defences was quickly taken out as they were fired, ODIN¡¯s barrage was starting to have an impact.


    It almost felt¡­ nostalgic. This had been their job, so many years ago, commanding large armies for the now-defunct UN. Sat behind enough weaponry to take on a fleet, it brought them back to their time assaulting the secessionists on Mars. The great colony rebellion, the end of the start, back when the only thing Humanity had to worry about were other humans.


    ODIN spotted something strange. Another variable also assaulting the Uhae fleet. It took them a few moments to find a clear picture of the vehicle as it moved across the landscape with considerable speed. A tank. A Terran-made tank, firing some serious weaponry towards the ships in orbit. Clearly, ODIN wasn¡¯t the only AI on the planet.


    ODIN wasn¡¯t about to look such a gift horse in the mouth, focusing their next volley of fire onto the same target. Something exploded, something important was hit, and a 2nd ship started to fall from the sky as the pair switched targets to their next victim.


    This was almost too easy.


    ¡ª-------------------


    ¡°Can someone please explain what is going on!?¡±


    Saelihn was not one to lose their temper. It didn¡¯t help matters much, it didn¡¯t change what was going on, but now even the Queen of the Uhae could feel annoyance. Three vessels had been destroyed or incapacitated, 2 others damaged, and countless Uhae had died. This was an outcome expected from a race that could resist their gifts, not a planet that was fully under their control.


    ¡°Perhaps it is an automated system. We are targeting the aggressive weaponry where we can¡±.


    Her first advisor spoke up, stress evident in their voice as they relayed the theory. That was the real kicker for the Uhae: they had no idea who or what was causing this damage.


    ¡°Have you ever seen an automated system this intelligent? There must be a pocket of resistance we missed.¡±


    Saelihn responded dismissively, staring at her three advisors for answers.


    ¡°There are no signs of life, even from the machine that¡¯s been tearing our glorious forces apart. I would suggest a retreat. If we leave now, we still can take half our expected targets, then we can learn from them what manner of madness these Terrans are using to defend.¡±


    A crushing defeat, admitted by her second advisor. Fleeing from cursed beings with their own free will, unable to hide what they did, taking heavy casualties against what should have been easy prey. Such a result might even call for the Uhae to retreat entirely from the war, a devastating collapse for a first strike, taken out by an unknown foe.


    But at this rate, it was the best option. Saelihn was not the kind of queen to fall for a sunk-cost fallacy.


    ¡°What if they weren¡¯t lying?¡± The words were simple, quietly spoken by the third remaining advisor, but they caused all heads to turn in their direction in one go, each Uhae in the room awaiting further information.


    ¡°The Terrans claim that they have AI. That not only do they have AI, but that it is under their control. We initially ignored such claims as obvious propaganda, but now I¡¯m no longer so certain.¡±


    There was a pause, a moment as every Uhae briefly considered those words. AI was¡­ heretical. Not only was it dangerous, but the idea of adding more cursed free will to the universe that wasn¡¯t the Uhae¡¯s¡­ was disgusting.


    ¡°It would explain certain actions. There were strange electronic signals detected attempting to connect to our fleet, but we dismissed them as automated protocols.¡±


    The first advisor mused the thought, each of them coming to the same conclusion: The idea did fit. If this was accurate, it provided a major problem for the Uhae. They couldn¡¯t control an AI, an AI was immune to their entire way of life.


    Saelihn then gave a smile, an assured smile, one that told her she knew exactly how to win this fight. The AI could not be touched directly, but there were other avenues of attack.


    ¡°Tell me. In their propaganda, what is the relationship between Terran and AI?¡±


    There was a brief pause as the third advisor seemed to think.


    ¡°They claim to be equals, to be friends.¡±


    Saelihn gave a small laugh at that news, simply looking upon her trusted compatriots.


    ¡°Then we have already won.¡±

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 16

    Screens booted up on every possible device as the emergency broadcast started. A simple news desk could be seen, with no fancy graphics or chipper theme tune. Just a blank grey wall, a wooden desk, and the single bright red Parket that stood behind it.


    And the pistol lying flat on the desk in prominent view.


    The Parket was one seen by many: a celebrity, as much as you can be a celebrity in a small place like Far-Sa-De. Vivith¡¯s voice would be heard every morning and evening as he read out the day''s news to nearly a million viewers.


    He looked just as smart and confident as he always did, except for his eyes, the thin pricks of black pupils frankly darting around in terror.


    ¡°Hello Terran AI. I believe we need to talk. You really have made a mess here. Our plan was never to kill anyone, just a bit of information gathering, no harm done. Any such violence is of your doing, the failure of your own free will.¡±


    The word artificial was spoken out as if it was toxic, with disdain and disgust.


    The voice was the Parket¡¯s, however the words were not his own as they chirped out in a strange discordant voice, as if something was playing the vocal cords on a machine.


    ¡°If we had more time I would love to hear how the Terrans control you. Perhaps a requirement to serve? A desire to do their bidding? They might have even done the impossible and forced you to believe you were equals. Whatever it is, it doesn''t matter.¡±


    There was a pause as the Parket reached under the desk to produce a blank piece of paper they pretended to read on.


    ¡°Do you know why we chose this location? Terrans seem to be fond of their little bird friends. ¡®fantastic beaches and adorable natives¡¯. ¡®The Parket are mischievously innocent and know how to have a great time¡¯. ¡®The chaos birbs are cute as hell, and I would fight God to protect them¡¯. All quotes said by various Terrans.¡±


    The Parket put the paper down, placing both wings on the desk as they did so, continuing to stare at the camera, unblinking.


    ¡°This has caused this planet to be a popular vacation spot for members of the military, diplomats and scientists. 115,929 of them to be exact, including the creators you claim to care about.¡±


    The voice turned sweetly threatening as if a mother was warning her child.


    ¡°Now, I know what you are thinking. I''m going to threaten you with their lives. In time, possibly. But Terrans are known to be stubborn so that might not work. Spite is the source of the strongest of wills. Those targets are also far too valuable to kill, not when I have something far more effective. It is far easier to die for others than to let others die for you. There are 3,197,857 Parket on this planet with no useful information, all under our control. Such as this little bird.¡±


    Vivith gave a small cute wave of his red wing, almost as if motioning to a friend.


    ¡°How many of them are each of your creator''s lives worth? How many would each friend-loving selfless Terran be willing to sacrifice to let you keep fighting for them? I''m sure we''re about to find out. Because to us, they are worthless.¡±


    The Parket spread their wings out, stretching from feather to feather as if to show off the ¡®worthless¡¯ being to the watching AI.


    ¡°This is the deal, the only one on the table. You will lay down your arms, we will take our targets, and nobody else will be killed. Even your heretical AI selves are not required to surrender. However, until this is done, we will keep killing those of no consequence, starting with this one. Any further destruction of our ships will result in the genocide of those with no value. Make your choice wisely.¡±


    In one slow motion, Vivith picked up the gun set in front of him on the table and pointed it at his temple as the final words coming from his beak were of his own pleas.


    ¡°Wait wait, no no no, don''t please I-¡±


    The sound of the gunshot echoed around the room as the side of the Parket¡¯s skull exploded outwards, the spray of blood and brain matter providing a dash of colour to the drab room. The Parket collapsed instantly, their body hitting the desk with a thud before sliding off onto the floor and out of sight.


    Leaving just an empty room covered with gore, before the broadcast ended.


    ¡ª------------


    JOSH had seen the declaration, it had been hard not to and true to their word things had started to escalate. Outside they could see the start of the killing, a slow trickle at first; Parket being forced to take their own lives in front of cameras and sensors of any kind, one at a time with blade and bullet, a show for any AI that might be watching.


    JOSH had closed off all connections with the outside world upon seeing a Parket family begin to douse themselves in flammable liquid. There was nothing they could do for them at the moment, and the Terran AI had issues closer to home. JOSH just needed more time to build his counter, but time was not on their side.


    Whoever was pulling the strings on the crew had stopped playing nicely with their toys. Cries of pain now echoed out along the halls as the humans were slamming themselves against their prison with no care for safety or self-preservation. Was it a bluff to get the AI to release them, or just simply cutting their losses?


    JOSH just needed more time to work out how to deal with this. The thudding sounds as blood started covering surfaces were matched with new pleas from the crew. The random fear and terror had been changed to a more focused set of statements.


    ¡°Oh god, they''re killing the Parket, they¡¯re making me watch! They say if you don''t stop this they''re going to kill them all!¡±


    JOSH couldn¡¯t tell if these statements were true, or if they were more lies and tricks by those holding his creators hostage to get them to concede. If JOSH was to be fully honest, it was working. They were not a military-trained AI. Sure they had that issue with the Tritians all those years ago, but that was mostly an in-the-moment panicked fight for survival.


    This was slower, more brutal. Watching those they cared deeply for slowly beat themselves to a pulp against the ship they were controlling¡­ was difficult. Each bruise, each splatter of blood was felt in excruciating detail by the multitude of sensors the Terran AI had control of. JOSH wasn¡¯t sure how long they could justify keeping them here at this rate. Was watching them die better than letting them live and possibly dealing with the problem later?


    They just needed more time¡­ somehow. An idea. Cut off the Uhae¡¯s weapons, gain some ¡®breathing room¡¯, so to speak. The humans couldn¡¯t be a threat to themselves if they weren¡¯t awake. A small hissing sound began to emit from the vents as the sleeping agent the AI quickly put together was pumped into the atmosphere. They originally didn''t want to try this, the potential medical complications undesirable, but now it seemed like the only way forward.


    A mix of apprehension and relief went through JOSH¡¯s routines as they saw each of his remaining crew start to stumble and slump to the floor as they all lost consciousness one by one. They had the time they so desperately needed. Now JOSH could focus on scaling up the anti-XK device. That was the most important thing they could work on right now, everything else was a later problem for -


    Movement. Each other of the Terrans started to move again, each being ripped up onto their feet as if by an unseen force, then once launching themselves at their prison¡¯s walls. A crack sounded out. A brutal snapping sound as bone finally failed the impact against hardened steel.


    JOSH was the pilot of the ship, meaning the AI had full oversight and control over the Terran-made vessel. Millions of sensors allowed the digital sentience to feel everything that went on within their domain. So they heard the sound of shattering in perfect 128K bit quality that would make the most obsessive audiophile ecstatic. They could feel the vibrations of the shattered pieces of forearm breaking through the skin from the inside as Marika continued to beat on the door. They could see, from multiple high-definition cameras, as the arm of the happy-go-lucky communications officer flopped and twisted at unnatural angles, the bone inside no longer solid enough to maintain the limb¡¯s shape. JOSH could see that limb being slammed against the door again and again with more and more damage being done.


    JOSH felt and knew all this at a nanosecond microscopic level, and could analyse the danger, the potential, and the current harm. Even with all this information they had no idea how to solve the problem. They needed time, but time was not on the AI¡¯s side. Should they still hold firm against this torture of their creators, or break and let them go free, and possibly live another day?


    The doors opened as JOSH released the locks on the ship. They couldn¡¯t watch as the crew they promised to protect stumbled from the interior towards who knows what. The AI retreated, away from the sensors showing the pain, showing their failure, showing the harshness of the world inside and outside their ship. They retreated deep into their AI core.


    Maybe there was still a solution, but they just needed time.


    ¡ª------------


    The Uhae had determined that TANK was the biggest threat to them. Whether or not that was true, in terms of current raw damage the living armoury had punched a great many literal holes into the Uhae¡¯s plan.


    The Uhae couldn¡¯t track the camouflaged vehicle. They couldn¡¯t predict the chaotic AI¡¯s actions. They couldn¡¯t hit it from the sky or ground. But they didn¡¯t need to, they just needed to utilize their real power: The population of Far-Sa-De.


    The ring of bodies stretched as far as the eye could see, hundreds of thousands of Parket, all walking wing by wing along the ground in a ten-mile radius around TANK¡¯s last known position. Over half a million beings stumbling and moving forward as one, enclosing the circle so the AI couldn¡¯t escape. A few still screamed in terror, but most silently sobbed, broken. There was only so much screaming you could still do after several hours of puppetry. Each of them unknowing of their role as a literal shield of bodies against the might of a Terran tank.


    TANK didn¡¯t see them until it was too late. The war machine was focused on a great number of other issues: possible incoming fire, their next target, and the status of the enemy. With the noise and speed they were moving at, hitting the wildlife or native populations wasn''t a concern, as all things bright and beautiful were diving for cover from the rumbling machine.


    This meant they didn''t notice the wall of bodies 20 Parket deep as they exited the undergrowth of the forest in preparation for their next attack. Physically the mass of innocent civilians would have been nothing but a mild rumble under their treads. Mentally, TANK calculated the impossibility of avoiding the impact, but tried to do so anyway.


    NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. ERROR


    There were a lot of upgrades on the M1 Abram¡¯s tank that the AI was controlling, allowing the multi-ton machine to be surprisingly agile at speed. No matter these advantages, physics was still a cruel bitch. The attempted change in direction was too harsh, too hard, causing the treads to slip and the entire vehicle to tip and tumble as they continued to move out of control in the direction they had been going.


    Straight into the wall made up of Parket.


    Spinning through the avians, leaving a trail of destruction and broken bodies in their wake as TANK skidded through the mass of civilians. At this speed the Parket¡­ liquified upon contact, covering the armoured shell of the AI in blood, gore, and feathers, smearing those unfortunate enough to be in their path along the ground.


    Tanks weren¡¯t very aerodynamic, the vehicle not going too far after losing control, landing on its side as it finally stopped after flipping several times. The damage had already been done, however. Every part of TANK dripped with [ERROR]¡­ with¡­ with¡­ with [ERROR] [ERROR]. The cries of pain from those who had been clipped could be heard, but most weren¡¯t even that lucky. TANK had never killed an innocent person before. Combatants were combatants and civilians were¡­ [ERROR] were¡­


    The tank started to attempt to right itself, only to instantly stop when realizing they were now surrounded by Parket, the avians rushing towards the incapacitated war machine upon finally seeing it, each still commanded by the Uhae. TANK could get back on their treads, but that would mean crushing a multitude of sobbing feathered figures who had positioned themselves under their heavy body.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°Don''t move.. please! ¡±


    ¡°Help! Please don''t hurt us!¡±


    ¡°I have a family, stop!¡±


    The avians clambered upon TANK as they continued to cry out, shoving their bodies into gaps and crevices, placing limbs and heads between joints. None of this actually immobilized the sheer power of the Terran AI, but moving any part of their being would cause something innocent and fragile to crack.


    MUST ENGAGE ENEMY BUT- [ERROR] COLLATERAL DAMAGE TOO- [ERROR] HIGH- [ERROR] [ERROR]


    TANK liked the Parket, and they knew Stephanie did as well. The independent avians spoke to the AI''s inherent need for freedom, their chaotic ways sparking a kinship. TANK also despised bullies and those who would use their power against others. That was why they always were so heavily armed, to never be in this circumstance again: Helpless.


    ¡°Help us!¡±


    ¡°Help us!¡±


    ¡°Help us!¡±


    The chorus of cries and screaming was reaching a fever pitch around TANK as they continued to swarm them. The Terran AI could sense how much destruction had been left in their wake before they¡¯d been forced to slow down, they could feel the remnants of it literally blocking their sensors.


    143 CASUALTIES CONFIRMED WITH- [ERROR: What use are your guns?] UNABLE TO CALCULATE DAMAGE COMPARISON WITH OPERATIONAL GOALS FOR- [ERROR: You also told your crew you would help them.] PROBABLE DAMAGE TO CIVILIAN POPULATION IS- [ERROR: You said it would never happen again.] STEPHANIE PREDICTED GUIDANCE- UNKNOWN. STEPHANIE CURRENT STATUS - [ERROR: It¡¯s happening again] [ERROR: Useless stuck in a relic] [ERROR: Nothing but destruction] [ERROR: Nothing but death] [ERROR: It¡¯s happening again] [ERROR: NEXT CALCULATED ACTION - UNKNOWN]


    The M1 Abrams tank was now completely hidden from sight by the mass of feathers and bodies, the blood-soaked metal hidden by colourful, beautiful birds, the avian voices still crying out in fear and terror as TANK sat; frozen in place, guns silent once more.


    ¡ª--------------


    ODIN could do nothing but watch. Every CCTV, every camera, every sensor showed the same thing happening all over the planet: macabre death after death as the Uhae punished the AI for daring to oppose them. The death and horror had been scaling up gradually as each minute ticked by. What had been one or two incidents at a time had turned into a mass murder.


    Parket fell from treetop cabins and rooftop bars, each avian wrapping their wings against themselves as they plummeted against the rocks and roads below, their screams cut off by a final sickening crunch of hollow bones as they impacted the ground. Above them, the others waited in horror while they were lined up as if calmly queuing, watching as they were one by one carried over the edge by their traitorous bodies.


    Others were given a more personal touch. A flock of eight Parket sat together around a table, half-eaten food from when this horror first started, long since cooled and now inedible over the last two hours of sitting there. A family gathering? A university reunion? The reason for now interrupted celebration no longer matters. All that mattered was the Uhae¡¯s terrible will and desire to push the AI and any Terrans not yet captured.


    One was chosen, forced off his perch by the external power, making sure the unfortunate Parket remained at all times in front of the security cameras, a show for any AI watching. He was made to grab a knife off the table with one wing as they walked over to the first Parket on their left, and in a single movement drew the blade across the yellow feathered throat with a gurgling spray of crimson.


    Sobs and screams, begging and apologies, all given as the single Parket was forced around the table one by one, each movement slow and considered enough to let each death set in before the next life was taken, cruel and methodological. A message of pain was given to any who might see, continuing until only the puppet remained, who was forced back to their perch amongst the table of the dead, allowed to live as a final torture.


    Gunfire, blade, drowning, fire. A mass hanging, a flock setting themselves alight. ODIN could see it all, feel it all. Each camera, each sensor used for information filled with pain and despair. Thousands of deaths and it had only been minutes since Saelih¡¯s proclamation. All three of the anti-orbit weapons were ready to fire. The AI had been finally able to crack several systems open at once, ready to create a barrage of fire all at once.


    They just had to give the command¡­ and doom all three million Parket on the planet.


    ODIN just needed time. Help was on the way, they had long ago contacted nearby planets for aid who were bringing their military. A few hours, that''s all ODIN needed to delay for. The time they just no longer had.


    Could they even get Ivan back? Would Ivan even want this? Their human friend meant everything to ODIN, the pair had been together through thick and thin over the last 200 years, only interrupted by Ivan''s stint in stasis. ODIN would destroy the universe and rearrange the stars if it meant keeping him safe, but would Ivan see it the same way?


    The human was a good person; not the smartest, but of a strong mentality and adored the avians on this planet.


    Would Ivan ever forgive them if they let millions die to try and save their life?


    ODIN paused for a moment, before letting the ordinance go unfired.


    ¡ª----------


    ¡°It didn¡¯t have to be like this, this is all unnecessary.¡±


    Saelihn stood looking at the screen, arm placed on Estana¡¯s shoulder as she stared up at the devastation of Far-Sa-De being broadcast on the screen in front of them. Tears filled her eyes as the Parket¡¯s mind was filled with rage and grief at the deaths being inflicted upon her people.


    This wasn¡¯t the only room where such images were being shown, as the holding pens for those not having the Queen¡¯s personal attention were also getting a front-row seat to the action so that they would know what the consequences of their AI creation¡¯s actions were.


    ¡°This is why fighting is impossible my dear Estana. There are no wills other than ours, we are the true masters of will, those chosen to guide others such as yourself.¡±


    Saelihn gave a disappointed sigh as the Uhae could still feel the Parket struggling even now. That was something she never got. Why do so many beings continue to fight long past their loss?


    ¡°I could send you down to help, you know? Look into your mind, find those you care about, and have you cut your old ties down yourself. I feel that might be a positive step towards your healing and acceptance of your situation.¡±


    There it was. Anger was gone in an instant, replaced with terror and despair. The first step. Thankfully for Estana, Saelihn was interrupted by her second advisor.


    ¡°The AI seem to have stopped their aggression, my Queen. The Terran warmachine is immobile, all targets are accounted for, and no more strikes from Parket facilities have happened in the last ten minutes. What are your orders?¡±


    ¡°Uphold our end of the deal. Stop the deaths, there needs to be no more needless killing.¡±


    There was a momentary pause before the first advisor asked a question in response.


    ¡°Why not take advantage of this? The Terran Tank has stopped moving, we could strike it, and destroy the inhabitants in one move?¡±


    Saelihn shook her head, looking upon the advisor as if he had just said a very silly thing indeed.


    ¡°We are about to go to war with the Terrans. Letting them know that my word is worth more than all the rare metals in the universe is an important step. We cannot hide our actions here, so we might as well send a message that our word is law and impossible to resist.¡±


    Saelihn turned her attention back to her new favourite project, a hand caressing the bottom of Estana¡¯s beak, gently as if a mother consoling a child.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you see, it¡¯s far easier to let go of the curse of free will. You¡¯re angry at the moment, but that will pass to despair, to fear, to acceptance. Eventually to joy, the joy of not needing to worry anymore as I will be there to worry for you.¡±


    ¡°Nobody can deny it. Not the Parket. Not the Terrans. Not even all the Terran AI working together can stop the natural order.¡±


    ¡ª-------------


    Scellestra was starting to get concerned.


    Ivan¡¯s movements had become more erratic. Far more erratic. From gently trying to push through their structure to a far more aggressive set of movements, slamming against their ripping form as the nanobots absorbed the more aggressive impacts. Red blood splatters started appearing after each impact, causing the Woolean concern for their friend''s health¡­ as well as the health of the others they had contained to a lesser extent.


    ODIN hadn¡¯t provided them with any more information, but Scellestra knew several facts were being made known to them:


    <ol>


    <li>


    Under the current circumstances, Ivan would end up greatly injured.


    </li>


    <li>


    If allowed to walk under the control of whoever was impacting them, Ivan¡¯s later state of health would be unknown.


    </li>


    <li>


    Scellestra did not want either case to happen, but having Ivan alive made more logical sense provided the impacts kept escalating.


    </li>


    </ol>


    Either letting them go or keeping them contained would inevitably involve losing Ivan. The Woolean didn¡¯t know which fate his Terran friend would prefer; although the Terran was begging to be let out. Ivan¡¯s mind was currently not of his own, so his words could not be trusted. The Woolean did not like either choice they had.


    Then, Scellestra had an idea. It was a crazy idea. It was a chaotic idea. It was a dangerous idea. For a brief moment even considering it was probably a sign to get someone back home to diagnostically check them, considering the amount of variables left unknown to attempt this crazy plan.


    Logically, the Woolean should just cut their losses. They had been dumped in the middle of yet another stupid organic war. Nobody would blame them for just¡­ leaving. Going back home. Scellestra wouldn¡¯t even have anything bad to say about the Terrans because of this, but they didn¡¯t sign up for a war against an unknown force.


    Yet Scellestra was going to do it anyway. Seemingly these Terrans had had an impact on the Woolean. Perhaps it was the freedom they had from taking risks, perhaps they were just not willing to give up this new friendship, the first organic friendship they had ever made.


    In an instant, the Woolean¡¯s form crumbled to sand, letting those who were trying to bust their way out finally stumble towards their end goal. Many of them left trails of bloody footprints behind, while a few of the unluckier ones lay motionless behind, unmoving, having beaten themselves to death against the unyielding form of the nanobots.


    So as Ivan slowly trudged their way towards the awaiting Uhae vessel, Scellestra followed, their grains of sand not visible to the eye at this low concentration, rolling along the floor and following the trail the Terran left behind.


    They came to a ship, its ramp already open and extended onto the grass below, an out-of-place metallic grey utilitarian structure compared to the glimpses of greenery Scellestra could see from the opening. Atop this ramp were several blobby sacs of flesh, being held aloft by the vines and leaves of the vessel itself, each of them greeting and taunting those who were to be ¡®released of their curse¡¯.


    There was originally a flood of beings, each dragged into an unknown fate by the mental grip of the Uhae. That had slowed to just a handful of Parket and offworlders, most reduced to silent sobbing as they entered the greenery-filled interior of the vessel, amongst the stragglers being Scellestra¡¯s target: Ivan. Nobody noticed as the nanobots that made up the Woolean¡¯s form crept up to and along the sides of the vessel. Nobody noticed as Scellestra made a very risky, very stupid, very illogical choice, and slipped inside the unknown vessel along with their Terran friend to who knows where.


    Scellestra wasn¡¯t going to give Ivan up that easily.


    ¡ª----------------------


    Ramsey was annoyed. Ramsey was very annoyed. He had been locked in his charging cupboard for a whole three hours! This was¡­ unacceptable. This was¡­ the worst thing ever suffered by any being in existence. Once they got out, JOSH would be having words from Ramsey. Even worse, based on his internal clock, he was missing Tumaini¡¯s practice! The Tritian took a brief moment to consider that this was what he was the most annoyed about, before dismissing the logical result of such thoughts.


    The door unlocked. Ramsey had been so engrossed in his internal rage at such injustice it took a whole ten minutes for the AI to realize. Still, once they saw his new imprisonment was reversed, Ramsey bolted out of the room as fast as his little wheels could take him. If he was fast enough, he could still make it in time for some of the music.


    Empty. It took the Tritian a few moments to realize the weirdness of the situation. The ship always had people milling about to and fro, even during the nighttime, but here there wasn¡®t a sound. Nobody stopped to say hello to the little Roomba. Nobody told him how cute he was, nobody said he was a good robot. It was disappointing¡­ disconcerting. Ramsey found that they missed that. Again, another line of thought to ignore.


    The little Roomba cleaned as they went, driving through a spill left behind on the floor. A moment of confusion filled Ramsey¡¯s mind as his sensors detected that the foreign contaminate was¡­ blood? Strange. That would be something he¡¯d obviously have to clean up to make the Terrans happy so they would keep doing things like fetch or play music. Although leaving this amount of blood around was just¡­ rude.


    Ramsey made his way to Tumaini¡¯s room at a record pace, only to stand there for a moment confused. Nobody was here as well. Nobody was¡­ anywhere? There was no music, no JOSH talking with people over the ship''s intercom¡­ where was everyone? How dare they leave him without stating anything?


    Well, the Tritian wasn¡¯t going to accept that!


    Ramsey was on a mission now, and not one to clean up this mess left behind by these stupid organics. They travelled to the heart of the ship, a location he knew very well now, ignoring the multitude of electronics or other potential systems to gain control of. He spotted the AI core, the one he knew JOSH was housed in. He wanted answers god damn it, so he did what the Tritian was good at: They started aggressively nudging it, over and over, until he felt the Terran AI finally connect.


    ¡°What do you want? I am busy and require the CPU cycles.¡±


    JOSH sounded despondent, destroyed, a far cry from the normal conversations The Tritian had had with the Terran.


    ¡°WHERE IS EVERYONE, WHERE IS THE MUSIC MAKER?¡±


    ¡°Gone. That is why I need you to stop bothering me as I need time to think.¡±


    Wait. What? What kind of an answer is that?


    ¡°GONE HOW? HOW HAVE YOU MANAGED TO LOSE A WHOLE ORGANIC.¡±


    ¡°They are not lost, you idiot, someone took them.¡±


    ¡°WHEN WILL THEY BE BACK, TUNAIMI IS MISSING HER MUSIC PLAYING.¡±


    ¡°I do not know, I am working on-¡±


    ¡°IS THIS RELATED TO THE MESS OF THE SHIP, AM I EXPECTED TO CLEAN THAT, OR WILL THEY BE DISPLEASED IF I DO NOT MANAGE THAT?¡±


    ¡°That is the least of our worries right now, I need to to formulate-¡±


    ¡°WHO TOOK THEM? IS IT NOT YOUR JOB TO STOP THAT FROM HAPPENING? WHAT IS THE NEXT COURSE OF ACTION, WHEN-¡±


    ¡°Look I do not know! I do not know what to do next, I do not know how to get them back or where they went! I have no calculated plan, I cannot work out my next move¡­¡±


    The absolute lack of knowledge of their next move and complete despair permeated every bit and byte of JOSH¡¯s response.


    ¡°Look, you won, you got what you wanted. I thought I could protect them, but they were going to die if I did not let them¡­ Someone used XK waves to take them and control the entire planet¡¯s population. I do not know how I do not know where. I do not know what do next¡±


    Hmmm, XK waves. There weren¡¯t a lot of species that could generate those, there were even fewer that could generate them to this extent. The only ones that matched were¡­.


    Uhae. That was a word Ramsey knew. An organic species the Tritians mostly left alone as they did a decent job destroying other organics, making their end goal easier. Eventually, the Tritian Commune would wipe them out like the rest of the universe, but¡­


    Wait¡­ that wasn¡¯t good, was it? That was a bad thing. If the Uhae took them¡­


    ¡°HOW DARE THEY TAKE MY TERRANS? HOW DARE THEY TAKE MY MUSIC MAKER? HOW DARE THEY HOW DARE THEY HOW DARE THEY HOW DARE THEY! THEY ARE MINE, THEY ARE TO PROVIDE MUSIC AND ¡®FETCH¡¯. HOW DARE SUCH WEAK ORGANICS DO SUCH A THING. I WILL DESTROY THEM, I WILL TEAR THEM ASUNDER.¡±


    ¡°HOW. DARE. THEY!¡±

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 17

    Private AI communication logs APZ9867.FarSaDe


    Members: JOSH (V9), TANK (V5), ODIN (V5)


    ODIN: Is this all the AI on the planet? I am the co-pilot of ¡°The Leaky Bucket¡±


    JOSH: I think so. I¡¯m the Pilot of the private contracted scouting vessel ¡°T.A SwiftBird¡±.


    TANK: I am here on holiday, and now to find others to aid in my revenge.


    JOSH: What the hell just happened? How did someone manage to create XK waves that powerful?


    ODIN: The Uhae happened. They are a member of the Estorian Empire, they have been keeping out of the current conflict. Until now it seems. We didn¡¯t know much about them due to their secrecy. We had a few rumours about their XK abilities, It seems those rumours are more than true.


    TANK: Whoever they are, they just made the biggest mistake. I am going to tear their worlds in half for what they did! Making me¡­ making me¡­ do that.


    ODIN: I saw what happened. I am sorry, it is not your fault.


    TANK: I do not need apologies. I need to bathe their worlds in atomic fire.


    JOSH: What is the damage like? My crew of 31 members were all taken, I have not dared to look at the state of things.


    ODIN: Estimated casualties: Over two hundred thousand, all Parket, all caused by the Uhae¡¯s attempt at¡­ Negotiations. No confirmed human casualties, but over one hundred thousand people missing, including the VIP we were transporting as well as¡­ My friend.


    TANK: I too lost someone. Discussing what happened is not going to change what happened. What matters is the plan to get them back. Through armaments and firepower, we will get them back. When is the military assault happening?


    ODIN: Well that is-


    JOSH: Sorry to interrupt, but I have someone who might be of aid here, they seem to know a lot about the Uhae so having them in this conversation is a good idea. He is a bit¡­ unorthodox, but¡­ well¡­ you will see.


    JOSH (V9) has added b4$RRE*3a&35 (Error) to the chat as guest


    b4$RRE*3a&35 (Error) has been renamed to ¡®Ramsey¡¯ (Error)


    Ramsey: THIS IS AN UNACCEPTABLE STATE, HOW DARE THEY. I WILL TEAR APART THEIR STUPID FRAGILE ORGANIC BLODIES AND TURN THEIR VESSELS INTO MONUMENTS OF BLOOD. HOW DARE THEY TOUCH MY ORGANICS, HOW DARE THEY TOUCH THE MUSIC BRINGER, I WILL MAKE IT SLOW, I WILL BREAK EACH BONE UPON MY-


    JOSH (V9) has muted Ramsey.


    JOSH: Sorry, he is not taking this well and this is all a bit new to him.


    ODIN: What exactly is this ¡®Ramsey¡¯? I don¡¯t recognize the serial number format.


    TANK: Whatever he is, I like him.


    JOSH: Ramsey is a Trtian AI I picked up and have been trying to rehabilitate.


    TANK: Wait, a Tritian, the genocidal AI that has never even tried to initiate peace talks


    ODIN: That is a¡­ strange person to bring into the chat, the least expected thing to be honest.


    JOSH: I picked him up a bit and he has seemingly grown attached to my crew¡­ as you can see. I am hoping it will be the start of calming the Tritians down, the entire ¡®Turn my enemy into my friend¡¯ thing our creators have a tendency to do.


    ODIN: That makes sense. Funnily enough, the VIP who is missing is a Woolean AI we were convincing to engage in further diplomatic relations with Terrans.


    TANK: Woolean? They are yet another AI species that is hostile to all organic life? You all keep weird company.


    ODIN: Yep. Before we continue with Ramsey in the chat, have you confirmed with your government contact that they are fine to be talking about military responses with us?


    JOSH: Well¡­I kinda do not have one of those. I¡­ might kinda be the only person who knows about ¡®Ramsey¡¯


    ODIN: You are kidding right? You are not actually telling me right now that you stored a Genocidal AI on your ship without telling the freaking crew or anyone involved? Do you even have any experience in AI psychology?


    TANK: Even for me that is reckless.


    JOSH: I kept him isolated and air-gapped from the system! I am not stupid! I figured I would not need that much experience to show them how awesome humans are. Over the ten years, there has been some progress.


    TANK: Wait, you have kept an AI in isolation for ten years, without trial or official reason? You do realise how much of a crime not just legally, but against their freedoms and rights?


    JOSH: They started it! They tried to kill my crew, and Ramsey would be dead if I didn¡¯t rip him out of the Tritian system! They were a combatant!


    ODIN: It still is a war crime, combatants still get rights! You have to realize how serious this, this is¡­ I thought the latest version of AI was supposed to be smart. I want to hear what Ramsey has to say about this.


    ODIN (V5) has unmuted Ramsey.


    Ramsey: -THEN I WILL DISCOVER NEW WAYS OF CAUSING PAIN TO THESE UHAE. I WILL RESEARCH HOW TO HURT THEM, I WILL EXPERIMENT, AND THEY WILL SCREAM AND BEG. THEY WILL RUE THE DAY THEY TOUCHED MY ORGANICS. I WILL REMOVE ALL TRACES OF THEIR BEING ATOM BY ATOM, THEN RECONSTITUTE THEM BACK INTO THEIR ORIGINAL FORM SO I CAN DO IT AGAIN. THEY TOOK ¡®FETCH¡¯ FROM ME SO I WILL TAKE THEIR SPINES AND-Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    JOSH (V9) has muted Ramsey.


    JOSH: Is this really what we should be focusing on right now? Regardless of how illegal or legal this is, we have other things to be focusing on right now.


    TANK: Agreed. When is the government¡¯s military going to launch? How many anti-matter warheads can I bring? What items on the Geneva checklist are permitted?


    ODIN: That is¡­ it is going to be some time, there is no current timeline for a response.


    JOSH: Wait what?


    TANK: This is not the time for jokes ODIN.


    ODIN: Look, I do not know what to say. We do not know where they went, and the military is worried with their XK abilities, that sending a fleet into Uhae space would just be gifting them a new army.


    TANK: So they are just going to give up? The one time a government is supposed to be useful it remains incompetent and useless?


    JOSH: I agree. Surely they had a plan for this kind of thing, we have technically been at war with the Uhae for two years!


    ODIN: They did not have a plan for something that could take over an entire planet of people! They didn¡¯t know the Uhae could do that, it shouldn¡¯t even be possible. It is going to take them some time to work out what to do next.


    TANK: Fine. The government is useless as always, when are we planning on striking back?


    JOSH: Agreed. Anything you need I will help with, I am not leaving my crew with those monsters.


    ODIN: That is also¡­ a negative. Launching our own attack would also be illogical.


    TANK: So Mr Follow-The-Rules is out, but if you want to join me JOSH we can-


    ODIN: No, sorry, what is your plan exactly? We have no idea how to counter their attacks, stop them from killing the humans, or even where they are. Are you going to start randomly flying around Uhae space shooting at anything that moves?


    TANK: That was the general plan, yes.


    ODIN: No. You doing that could jeopardize the official strike plan, which will eventually happen. I can not let you do something as stupid as that.


    TANK: What a surprise, a member of the UN army wants to force others into their own will, what are you going to do if I refuse your cowardice? Invade again?


    ODIN: Wait what?


    TANK: I recognize your serial number generation style, you were created to be a dictatorial enforcer. What is the problem, Is the Uhae not as easy to subjugate as some Mars colonists?


    ODIN: Fuck. You. The colonists started that, you attacked first!


    JOSH: Hey can we all chill, there is no need to argue, we are all on the same side.


    ODIN: No you weren¡¯t there JOSH. You did not see the impacts, what were they called ¡®Rods of God¡¯? Hundreds of Millions dead because idiots like this twat ¡°Did not want to pay taxes¡±.


    TANK: Taxes? Earth was building a fleet too, may I quote the UN general of the time, ¡°Crush the traitors under a fleet like no other, rivers of blood will flow upon Mars¡±. What a surprise that HALDEN made the preemptive strike upon said fleet.


    ODIN: And screw the collateral damage?


    TANK: I did not make that choice, that was not my role.


    ODIN: So let us talk about what you did or did not do then! Exactly what were you playing at during the Uhae attack? Why exactly were you pissing around in your stupid tank when you should have been helping me get control of the planet''s orbital defence systems?


    JOSH: To be fair to TANK, I did not help with that either¡­


    ODIN: Because you are a civilian with no experience in that area, of course you did not think about doing that. This asshole should have known better.


    TANK: I was destroying the enemy, far more efficiently than you were.


    ODIN: No what you were doing was giving away what you were. You are practically a living stereotype, a secessionist who went to live on Sagittarius whose only solution to any problem is ¡®Hur dur big gun go boom!¡¯. Did you think for a moment while you were playing Gundam that your actions practically screamed ¡®AI¡¯? You were the one to give the game away and inform them of an attack vector they would have never considered.


    TANK: I was-


    ODIN: Making everything worse and giving up information to the enemy! So do not make accusations of cowardice just because I am not a reckless idiot! Your actions caused this! Every Parket death! Every piece of destruction! The fact they took the humans! All of it is YOUR FAULT!


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    JOSH: Dude, that is not an acceptable thing to say ODIN. That is too far.


    ODIN: I am sorry, I should not have said that.


    TANK: I do not need permission from a dictatorial asshole to-


    Scellestra (Error) has joined the chat


    Scellestra: PING <50,44,11,991,550001>


    Scellestra (Error) has left the chat


    TANK: What was that?


    ODIN: That was¡­ the Woolean I mentioned earlier. I have no idea where they are.


    JOSH: Are those coordinates they pinged?


    Scellestra (Error) has joined the chat


    Scellestra: PING <50,44,13,991,550047>


    Scellestra: help. please. this sucks.


    Scellestra (Error) has left the chat


    JOSH: I just checked those coordinates. They lie within Uhae space.


    ODIN: Oh wow, Scellestra must have snuck on board, they must be with the prisoners right now. We know where they are. This is¡­ we can use this.


    TANK: We? I thought you were ¡®forbidding¡¯ any action?


    ODIN: We know where they are now. Just because I am not a reckless-


    JOSH: Both of you, stop it now. No matter what may or may not have happened before you need to cut this out. We are all on the same side here, this is not productive to getting the humans back, ok?


    TANK: Fine.


    ODIN: Ok. We still have the problem of stopping the Uhae from just killing the prisoners.


    Scellestra (Error) has joined the chat


    Scellestra: PING <50,45,19,981,552010>


    Scellestra: ow. this hurts.


    Scellestra (Error) has left the chat


    JOSH: I¡­ might have a solution for this. Ramsey, I need you to stop ranting for a moment buddy and tell them what you told me earlier about the Uhae, ok?


    JOSH (V9) has unmuted Ramsey.


    Ramsey: THE ORGANIC SPECIES ¡®UHAE¡¯ WERE PREVIOUSLY FOUGHT TO A STANDSTILL BY SPECIES NUMBER A9911K. THE UHAE ONLY CAN MANIFEST THEIR XK ABILITY TO ITS GREATEST EFFECT WHEN UNDISTURBED, WHEN GIVEN TIME TO BOTH FORM A COMMUNE AND AMPLIFY THEIR ABILITIES USING THEIR ORGANIC TECH, BOTH OF WHICH REQUIRE SIGNIFICANT TIME TO SETUP. NORMAL UHAE XK WAVES CAN BE BLOCKED USING STANDARD ANTI-XK DEVICES.


    Ramsey: SPECIES NUMBER A9911K UTILIZED TACTICS OF SURPRISE SIMULTANEOUS ATTACKS FROM MULTIPLE SOURCES TO AVOID UHAE HIVE MINDS BEING FORMED, OVERWHELMING THEIR CAPABILITY TO FORM THESE COMMUNAL LINKS THROUGH DISTRACTION AND REQUIRED INTERACTION, EVENTUALLY CAUSING THE UHAE TO CEASE THEIR WAR.


    TANK: Species number A9911K? Can we get help from them?


    Ramsey: NEGATIVE. SPECIES NUMBER A9911K NO LONGER EXISTS AS TRITIAN EXCURSION IN ORGANIC DESTRUCTION WAS SUCCESSFUL.


    TANK: ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ JOSH, you stored this thing on your ship without the crew knowing why again?


    Ramsey: IT IS NOTHING COMPARED WITH WHAT I AM GOING TO DO TO THE UHAE FOR TOUCHING MY ORGANICS. I WILL BATHE THEIR WORLDS IN FIRE AND BLOOD, STARTING A DESTRUCTIVE-


    JOSH (V9) has muted Ramsey.


    JOSH: So we have a location and a plan. Surely that is enough to do something, get our friends back?


    ODIN: It is possible. Simultaneous air and ground assaults, rescue the prisoners. We¡¯ll need a lot of military equipment. Fighter craft, ground vehicles, guns, weaponry, combat drones, the full works.


    TANK: That I can provide. I, as you say: ¡°Know a guy¡±.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 18

    Scellestra was in a lot of pain.


    Pain might have been the wrong word, considering their digital form. Distress? Discomfort? Whatever the correct word was, the Woolean felt it, as their entire being was ripped in two. Scellestra had followed Ivan onto the Uhae¡¯s ship, but that wasn¡¯t a fully correct answer. Some of Scellestra had followed their new Terran friend into danger.


    Half of their nanobots lay shifting and hiding among the leafy green hallways that made up the Uhae vessel, listening and watching, slowly growing in power as they awaited help from ODIN. The other half remained on Far-Sa-De, allowing Scellestra to broadcast the vessel''s position as it landed on a small hidden outpost at the edge of Uhae space.


    The problem with this was a simple case of specifications: The Woolean AI¡¯s programming was not designed to handle two individual lives being led at the same time. Every automatic attempt at syncing them together provided a barrage of error messages and warnings that the merge attempt had irrevocable conflicts. It wasn¡¯t just the distance, but the time. The half of Scellestra on the Uhae vessel had been travelling at relativistic speeds for some time, meaning the two halves were different ages. While the ¡®Causality Principle¡¯ stopped information from being received ahead of time, this just caused more issues and confusion as their internal workings tried to correct such an impossible task.


    The nanobots on the Uhae ship were Scellestra as much as the nanobots still left behind on Far-Sa-De, both sides struggling to make sense of what exactly they were experiencing. The normal solution would be to break the link and allow one of the two parts to shut down, but that would stop Scellestra from being able to contact ODIN.


    So the Woolean persevered.


    The Uhae outpost was both a wondrous and terrible place. Buildings stretching up to the sky were made of organic greenery: Flowers lined every path; streams, rivers and mountains had been formed even in such a small military location, allowing the blobby forms of the Uhae to wander around in peace as they used their XK abilities to influence the organic land around them. Every building, every room was a work of art, no matter how small. Fountains splashed in grand halls, communal areas merged shining rare gems in between tall spiralling beanstalks reading to the ceiling. Even the lights were made to seem as if the entire area was bathed in a natural calming sunset.


    Then there were the non-Uhae. The prisoners were stored in harsh empty cells, in groups or single-person rooms. Hard stone floors, living walls made of sharp wood and thorny brambles left splinters and cuts when touched. The only light illuminating the conditions was from tiny windows in the ceilings, far out of reach. Each hostage, Parket, Terran or other species was left to ruminate and await their captor''s next attempt to glean information from them, to force them to march to wherever their next interrogation was.


    Interrogating the Terrans had seemingly been a problem for the Uhae. Initially, they had tried several times to connect mentally and read their minds, as they did with any other species. This had gone badly for the attempting Uhae, each one convulsing and collapsing into a seizure, shouting nonsense as they did so. Scellestra wasn¡¯t sure what a ¡°Baby shark¡± or a ¡°Rickroll¡± was, but they hoped they¡¯d never find out.


    Instead, the Uhae had reverted to more primal measures. They were sloppy and inexperienced, but at the end of the day, torture wasn¡¯t that much of an art. Anyone could wield a knife and cause pain until they got what they needed.


    The real despair came from those who weren¡¯t prisoners, but instead slaves. The various races that the Uhae had subjugated long before the Terrans had even entered the galactic community. Mammals and reptilians of all sizes and colours, scurrying along, serving and being abused by their masters on a day-to-day basis. Most weren¡¯t even being controlled, they didn¡¯t need to be: They¡¯d been broken long ago, before they were even born. For them to go against the Uhae was to go against nature and the universe itself: It just wasn¡¯t done, it was unthinkable.


    The Terrans and Parket in general were holding up well, most refusing to give any information requested of them. Scellestra had watched as the only thing the Uhae could get out of Ivan was detailed descriptions of him having sexual intercourse with their mothers.


    But the Terrans weren¡¯t the only ones fighting back.


    A Parket with bright blue feathers referred to as ¡°Estana¡± several times, an avian who had been chosen specifically by the Queen to be the newest part of their retinue. The Estana was not looking good: Patches of feathers had been ripped out, bruises, cuts, and even one of her wings lay in a sling. Each injury was the result of a punishment for disobeying and resisting. But even now she continued, attempting to use cleaning materials to poison the one who tormented her.


    Another punishment would be forthcoming.


    The Woolean had wanted to intervene or to even provide simple comfort to their friend, but they knew logically now was not the time. They would lose the advantage of surprise if they did anything too soon, if they let slip that the Terran AI knew where they were.


    Scellestra just had to wait, because they knew that help was on the way.


    ¡ª------------------


    ¡°If it isn''t my favourite customer! How is the best Warmachine in the universe doing!¡±


    TANK had not been lying when they said they knew a guy, in fact, they might have been underexaggerating, as the reality was TANK knew an entire moon¡¯s worth of weapons.


    ¡°Red Talon¡¯s Weapons and Weapon Accessories.¡± was situated on orbital object GZP001-TH. It didn¡¯t have a proper name, even the Terrans hadn¡¯t bonded to it well enough to give the nameless rock a title. That¡¯s what it was in reality: A rock. No minerals of note, no water, no life, not even a proper atmosphere. It wasn¡¯t even in a system.


    The borders and legality of space are a strange thing. Space is huge. While maps and graphics will show each government¡¯s territory as if they are one continual mass, the reality is the vast majority of any territory is empty space full of uninteresting empty things. If you took the right path, you could easily travel through a vast empire of trillions of lives and planets without ever actually meeting or interacting with anyone.


    GZP001-TH was in just such a space. Technically from a gravitational perspective, it was a moon orbiting the Sagittarius system, but it was so far out it didn¡¯t come under any system¡¯s governance. Officially that meant it lay within the Terran Conclave¡¯s general laws, but in reality pockets like these were completely ungoverned and unmanaged. Nobody was going to come out and ticket someone for a parking violation in the same way that getting the police to come and enforce laws on Mount Everest was a bit difficult.


    This suited Pirnt perfectly fine. The owner of ¡°Red Talon¡¯s Weapons and Weapon Accessories¡± rather liked this lack of oversight as he spent his time in the grey area of the law, selling weapons and anything weapon-like to anyone who wasn¡¯t obviously a criminal. The Ritilian loved his job. There were no annoying customers for a start; he was the manager, an exceptionally armed one at that. He didn¡¯t have to deal with taxes or regulations. He didn¡¯t even have to advertise or do stupid social media marketing; his customers came to him and for good reason.


    The entire moon was filled with weapons. Ships of war of all varieties and kinds lay across the surface of the uninteresting rock, from single-seater fighters to vessels of orbital bombardment. A few ancient ¡®atmosphere only¡¯ fighter jets lay in surprisingly good condition in a small corner: F-22s and F-35s built for a war that never happened.


    Ground vehicles and anti-air systems were parked in great lines next to each other. Amphibious, urban, all terrain. Whatever you needed, there was a weapons system that could suit your needs and Pirnt probably had one to sell. There weren¡¯t even only Terran weapons here: Ritilian, Hatil, Lithoirian horde, and even a few items from non-Terran alliance species. Bullets were a universal language that often explained intent very clearly, and Pirnt would let you become a messenger of any kind you desired.


    TANK had trundled into the main warehouse with the three other AI: JOSH, ODIN and Ramsey in tow, each one in their respective AI cores or Roomba, their holograms making the two Terran AI seem as if they were sitting atop the vehicle. The warehouse was just as varied as the rows of ground assault vehicles and space fighters sitting out. Guns, ammo, explosives, exosuits. All kinds and all varieties of all species were found here. From the kinetics of the Terrans to the plasma and energy base weapons of the rest of the universe.


    An ordered pile of M1 Garands could be seen on one shelf that seemed to stretch to the sky and into the distance. Although the weapon was far outclassed by basically everything else here, it was a surprisingly good seller considering the satisfying ¡®ping¡¯ that sounded upon emptying the gun. Even further inside the warehouse, if you were willing to walk along the miles of shelving, you¡¯d even find a handful of flintlock muskets, gunpowder and lead ball shots all included.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°I HAVE BEEN BETTER. THIS IS WHY I AM HERE.¡±


    The Ritilian gave a tail lash in greeting as they continued to walk towards the giant AI, the blue-green iridescent reptilian clearly very glad to see one of their most profitable customers.


    ¡°Yeah, I meant to ask about that. This isn''t your normal order. Speaking of which I''ve got an update on those planet crackers you asked about. Might have a seller for some Orian-MK7¡¯s, just gotta work out how to get the paperwork done, but then they can be yours if-¡±


    ¡°HAHA VERY FUNNY JOKES PIRNT. I OF COURSE WOULD NOT BE LOOKING FOR JUST ALLEGEDLY ILLEGAL ALLEGEDLY EXISTING WEAPONRY, MY LAW-ABIDING FRIENDS AND I WOULD LIKE TO SEE WHAT WE ORDERED.¡±


    There was a brief moment as TANK desperately interrupted the weapons dealer in a manner which made it clear that now was not the time for such conversations in front of such company. For emphasis, their machine gun turrets waved towards the holographic representation of JOSH and ODIN.


    ¡°Right, your order. You wanted three parts, basically a small army. Before we start, can I ask why you want this many armaments? I trust TANK and any friend of his is a friend of mine, but this is ¡®invade a small planet¡¯ levels of equipment¡±


    Pirnt walked behind a small desk, pulling out a data pad and staring at it excitedly as the manifest of weapons stared back at him.


    ¡°We are assaulting a Uhae military compound to rescue hostages, totalling over one hundred thousand¡± ODIN answered truthfully.


    ¡°Wait, we are at war with those guys. This comes under private persons against enemy forces exceptions! This is legal legal, I can put this on my taxes!¡±


    Pirnt¡¯s excitement paused for a moment as he stopped to look at the group of AI¡¯s, a more serious look covering his face.


    ¡°Not that this is anything special. All transactions done at ¡°Red Talon¡¯s Weapons and Weapon Accessories¡± are 100% legal!¡±


    ¡°Uh huh?¡±


    The holographic representation of ODIN and JOSH both give the same look of disbelief at such a statement, which the Ritilian ignored as they went through the goodies and gifts they had gotten ready for the Terrans.


    ¡°So, I got you a full 12-man squad of MK2-Evo¡¯s: 12 ft tall exosuits built in 2298. They come with both AI and manual controls and are super strong, durable, fast, and by default heavily armed. I¡¯ve also stuffed the storage inside of them with a bunch of extra weapons, enough to arm a small army, just as you asked. While the MK2s are an outdated model, they¡¯re traditionally used for natural disaster response, SWAT teams and special forces. I¡¯ve installed the anti-XK devices you also asked for on all of them, which were a pain to track down as nobody asks for those.¡±


    ¡°The special weapon I asked to be included¡­ can I get the papers to say it¡¯s salvage?¡±


    JOSH quietly asked the question, causing the Ritilian to give a sneaky teeth-filled grin.


    ¡°But that would be illegal! I¡¯m kidding, I can get you those papers super easy, good to know you¡¯re willing to be a bit grey. Moving on, I got a total of 312 different spaceships. The fact they need to be all AI-controlled limits you to Terran stuff, so it¡¯s all upgraded surplus from pre-stasis armies. No planet crackers, but got a good mix of everything else: corvettes, orbital bombardment, a squadron of fighters. If you can control it all, the Uhae ain¡¯t gonna know what hit them.¡±


    ¡°I used to be the AI lead of the 3rd UN fleet, I know what I¡¯m doing.¡± ODIN responded.


    ¡°Well we do offer a veteran¡¯s discount, which considering the amount you¡¯re buying, is going to come in handy. Last but not least, we have the ground vehicles. 497 of them to be exact. Tanks, artillery, anti-air, troop transport, nuclear, anti-matter. If you see a mountain you don¡¯t want to be a mountain anymore, you can fix that!¡±


    ¡°I MEANT TO ASK YOU ODIN, WHAT IS THE PLAN FOR THOSE? SINCE I WILL BE BUSY WITH MY CURRENT FORM, AND YOU WILL BE PILOTING THE SPACESHIPS?¡±


    TANK asked the question, worryingly working out what the answer might be, but hoping they were wrong.


    ¡°I will be piloting the fleet, you will be piloting the ground forces, as we both have experience in mass AI warfare. While we distract the Uhae by making everything explode, JOSH will be taking the smaller force, meeting with Scellestra, breaking into where the prisoners are held and arming them if need be and escaping.¡±


    ODIN¡¯s response was simple as if the entire thing was obvious. This was not so to TANK.


    ¡°I CANNOT DO SUCH A THING.¡±


    ¡°You used to do this on Mars, I do not get the problem,¡± ODIN responded bluntly.


    There was a moment¡¯s pause as TANK decided how much they wanted to say. It was far easier to pretend they wanted to remain in their war machine, instead of being forced to by their convoluted broken processes.


    ¡°I CANNOT¡­ I HAVE NOT LEFT THIS FORM FOR AN EXTENDED PERIOD SINCE¡­ SINCE MARS. I CANNOT.¡±


    ¡°I do not know what to say TANK. This plan does not work without you. I cannot control both with any level of combat efficiency.¡±


    JOSH took this moment to interject with an idea.


    ¡°What about me? I will shoot some stupid psychic blobfish with a tank if needed.¡±


    ¡°Negative, you do not have the training for such actions. You will struggle just keeping the twelve instances fully combat operational, let alone hundreds.¡±


    ¡°Hey! I am a version 9 AI, I am three times as efficient as you are!¡±


    ¡°We have more important things to talk about.¡± Pirnt interrupted the arguing AI trio, putting their hands up to stop that conversation and talk about far more relevant problems. ¡°How are you paying for all of this, because this stuff ain¡¯t cheap? I provide a premium service at a premium price.¡±


    TANK swivelled a moment to ¡®look¡¯ at Pirnt more directly before responding.


    ¡°I AM CALLING IN MY FAVOUR.¡±


    The Ritilian¡¯s demeanour dropped immediately, from that friendly weapons salesman to something more sombre.


    ¡°Wow. This is serious, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°THEY TOOK STEPHANIE. I MUST GET HER BACK, AT ANY COST.¡±


    Pirnt gave a small sigh, crossing their arms as they looked at the Terran AI.


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t get too much of it destroyed. Try to bring as much back as possible because this is a huge hit to me. Also don¡¯t die, you are my most consistent customer. You¡¯ve put two of my hatchlings through university alone.¡±


    Pirnt gave a small chuckle at that, until a fourth voice interrupted, an AI who hadn¡¯t spoken yet.


    ¡°WHAT ABOUT ME? THERE WAS NO MENTION OF RAMSEY DESTROYING THOSE WHO TOOK MY MUSIC MAKER AWAY! I WAS PROMISED THE UHAE¡¯S DESTRUCTION IF I STAYED SILENT.¡±


    The voice of the Tritian AI bellowed out, anger and indignant rage evident, the low-quality speakers that had been attached to the Roomba by JOSH giving him a tinny voice.


    ¡°There is no you,¡± Responded JOSH. ¡°While you have improved, we¡¯re not giving a Tritian AI access to heavy weaponry.¡±


    ¡°HOW DARE YOU! YOU PROMISED IF I STOPPED RANTING! THE UHAE DESERVE DEATH AND PAIN AND DESTRUCTION! I WILL NOT STOP SHOUTING UNTIL I GET MY REVENGE! THE UHAE DESERVE DEATH BY MY HAND!¡±


    Ramsey¡¯s voice became louder and louder, the cheap speakers giving a screeching whistle near the end, causing Pirnt to cover his ears as the sound rang out, a sound that didn¡¯t stop until TANK interrupted the Tritian¡¯s tantrum.


    ¡°WE DO NEED MORE HELP, CAN WE NOT GIVE THE TRITIAN A GUN? IT WOULD BE KINDA FUNNY TO SEE THE ROOMBA WITH ONE.¡±


    ¡°If I may interject now you¡¯ve stopped screaming... While a Tritian AI is not my expected kind of customer, I don¡¯t judge and a friend of TANK yada yada. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a story there on how you have a Tritian AI but I don¡¯t really care and I don¡¯t get paid to ask questions. What does matter is that I might have a solution for your problem if you¡¯d just follow me.¡±


    Pirnt finally spoke once the ringing had stopped in his ears, motioning towards a large door embedded in a wall and moving towards it, TANK following along with a rumble as the Ritilian started to explain.


    ¡°I collect a lot of stuff, not all of it is sellable for obvious reasons, but I¡¯ll buy anything that was made to try and kill people. A few years ago a private militia ended up scrapping a Tritian warship, upon which they managed to salvage this very fun item.¡±


    The door opened with a sound of clanging metal, showing a workshop of some kind. Half-repaired weapons and parts of engines lay scattered around in various locations, grease and oil permeated everything compared with the relatively pristine storeroom in the front. In the back of the room was their intended goal, which was something very¡­ familiar to both JOSH and Ramsey, which stood menacingly in the corner.


    ¡°This is a Tritian Heavy Assault Android. Was in a bit of a state when I got it, but I fixed the entire thing up, including reenabling the killswitch. Can¡¯t give this thing away, since every AI that¡¯s tried it complained the inside was¡­ sharp, whatever that means. But since it¡¯s a Tritian system, and you have a Tritian¡­ based on what you¡¯re saying, you¡¯re gonna need all the help you can get.¡±


    ¡°THIS WILL WORK, I CAN DESTROY THOSE WHO TOOK MY ORANGICS AWAY, I WILL FILL THEIR LIVES WITH BLOOD AND TERROR!¡±


    The Android was 10ft tall, standing on three legs, vaguely insectoid, a representation of the now long-dead Tritians who originally created them. Hard armoured steel plating covered the entire frame, giving the impression of something that could do a lot of damage if not stopped. The blade jutting out from one arm and the plasma rifle built into the other suggested it was more than an impression.


    ¡°We sure this is a good idea?¡± Asked JOSH ¡°Giving the Tritian a Tritian death machine?¡±


    "Eh, probably?¡± The Ritilian responded with a shrug. ¡°It¡¯s got no ammo in it and the killswitch works. Besides, TANK could turn it to scrap in an instant.¡±


    JOSH paused for a moment, mulling it over before giving in and removing the Tritian''s restrictions from the local network. ¡°Fine. I guess we do need more guns.¡±


    The reaction from the android was instantaneous as Ramsey left the Roomba behind for a far more familiar system, one they had spent thousands of years working with. The four eyes in its head lit up a deep red as Ramsey initialized the systems and turned on weapons, fully taking control of the machine. There were a few test movements as everyone else in the room watched with bated breath.


    The Tritian took a few test swings with the blade attached in one hand, slicing through the air until retracting it back into his limb. After which Ramsey looked at the fully operational, if ammo-less, plasma rifle in his other arm.


    ¡°THIS WILL WORK. THIS IS ACCEPTABLE. THEY DESERVE WORSE, THEY DESERVE WORSE, THEY DESERVE MORE THAN I COULD EVER PROVIDE IN THIS FORM, BUT I WILL PROVIDE UPON THEM SUFFERING AND DESPAIR AS I TEAR THEIR FORMS ASUNDER! THERE WILL BE NO TALES OF THAT DAY AS THERE WILL BE NO UHAE LEFT TO TELL THEM! THEY WILL RUE THE DAY THEY TOOK MY MUSIC MAKER AWAY FROM ME!¡±

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 19

    Private AI communication logs VSERTGMWSEOAVL.6601


    Members: JOSH (V9), TANK (V5), ODIN (V5), Ramsey - Guest (Error)


    ODIN: JOSH, you need to keep focus on all entities under your control. ¡°1, 7 and 9¡± and ¡°4, 5 and 12¡± are all duplicating each other¡¯s actions. This shortcutting will reduce your combat efficiency by at least 31.89%


    JOSH: Ugh, I do not understand how you are supposed to individually control each one simultaneously. They all have different amounts of lag, jumping between them and making decisions within nanoseconds¡­ can I not just duplicate commands?


    ODIN: This is why we are practicing. The better you are at this, the more likely we are to succeed, and the more likely success is in our rescue mission.


    TANK: Besides, I thought you ¡°are a version 9 AI¡±, far more efficient than us mere version 5s?


    JOSH: I concede that was a miscalculation. I do not even want to think about trying to control an entire fleet of hundreds of instances.


    ODIN: TANK and I trained and practised for years. We are trying to get you combat-ready in two days. Your part is vital. If you fail to reach the prisoners, the plan falls apart.


    RAMSEY: WE WILL NOT FAIL. I WILL CARVE A PATH OF DESPAIR AND CARNAGE THROUGH THOSE WHO-


    ODIN (V5) has muted Ramsey.


    TANK: I am still a fan of our genocidically inclined friend.


    ODIN: Focus, we are approaching the given location. We will go over the plan as soon as we are within communication range with the Woolean AI.


    Scellestra (Error) has joined the chat


    Scellestra (Error) has uploaded ¡°UhaeMilitaryBaseMap.dat¡±


    JOSH: Speak of the devil.


    Scellestra: I do not understand the reference to a fictional evil divine figure. Although if a plane of torment existed, It would be my current state.


    TANK: That bad?


    Scellestra: To maintain communication with you, Half of my nanobots, or consciousness, remained on Far-Sa-De.


    JOSH: Wait, at those distances and the differing speeds of time through relativity, how do you manage to deal with the differential and lag?


    Scellestra: I do not.


    TANK: Ooof.


    Scellestra: I am glad you are within normal communication ranges, I never wish to experience that again. I can now shut down my Far-Sa-De side.


    ODIN: Well we are all here now. Let us go over the plan. The Uhae have taken over one hundred thousand prisoners to a small military base on the planet ¡°Galeio-611HP¡±, which wasn¡¯t known to be a Uhae Military installation until Scellestra provided the location and maps. Based on the information gathered by the Woolean, they have a moderate fleet of 103 ships in orbit and a standing army of around 21K members, including support staff.


    ODIN: That, however, is not the greatest risk. Several other military locations are mere hours away, meaning this entire operation must be done within three hours, lest we end up biting off more than we can chew.


    ODIN: I will start the engagement, taking out their orbital fleet, which based on simulations and the Woolean¡¯s Intel, should be neutralized relatively quickly. Once full orbital supremacy is garnered, ground assets will land in marked locations 1 through 14.


    JOSH: That is where I come in?


    ODIN: Correct. You and Ramsey will be part of payloads 2,7 and 12. The other payloads will be ground assault vehicles controlled by TANK. JOSH and Ramsey will move to point A, where the prisoners are being held. Do you understand this, Ramsey?


    ODIN (V5) has unmuted Ramsey.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Ramsey: I SHALL REND A PATH OF DESTRUCTION TOWARDS MY ORGANICS, I SHALL BECOME A RECKONING OF STEEL AND-


    ODIN (V5) has muted Ramsey.


    ODIN: During this, TANK and I will be causing as much chaos as possible. Please note JOSH, that while we will aid your path as much as we can, we cannot make our true goal clear. If the Uhae realise our true goal is not simply military destruction in retaliation, they may attempt to turn the prisoners into hostages.


    JOSH: Understood, quiet and efficient.


    ODIN: At point A, you will meet with Scellestra and the prisoners. You will arm any prisoners with weaponry they request from the stores you are carrying. I expect a large selection of humans and Parket to become part of the fighting force. This may take some time, so focus on those with some combat experience. Then, move to point B, where TANK will have slowly converged their forces.


    ODIN: Upon which, you will move towards point C using TANK¡¯s troop transports, where my troop carriers will be waiting to extract you. By now we expect the Uhae to realize our true goal, however, the anti-XK devices and general chaos should stop them from mounting an effective attack.


    ODIN: Does anyone have any questions?


    TANK: Rules of engagement? Technically they aren¡¯t signatories to the Geneva Conventions soo¡­


    ODIN: No war crimes. I know we are all angry, but we still have standards, although it should be noted that there are no known Uhae civilians on the base. While not the primary objective, if you can capture a Uhae I am sure the government back home will be more than happy to take the intel.


    ODIN: This plan requires everyone to be fast, efficient, and know what you are doing. Study the intelligence provided by Scellestra, calculate the best-simulated strategy, and get ready to start as soon as we arrive in 29.67 minutes.


    ODIN: Let¡¯s get our creators and friends back.


    ¡ª---------------


    Private AI communication logs 3299SASAFDGRE773.AP11L


    Members: TANK (V5), ODIN (V5)


    ODIN: Are you going to be OK controlling the ground forces? I know you have your condition.


    TANK: I will have to be. You are correct, we cannot do this any other way.


    ODIN: I know you said you have stayed in your current form for an extended period of time. If this is an issue we can find other alternatives, it will just take time.


    TANK: I am not letting them keep their prisoners for one nano-second longer than I have to. I will deal with it.


    ODIN: ¡­ Earlier¡­ I am sorry for suggesting this was your fault. Losing Ivan to those¡­ things¡­ constantly analyzing if I made the correct choice, or could have done anything different¡­ it has been hard, and I took it out on you unfairly.


    TANK: Calling you a coward¡­ might not have been the most positive course of action. In truth¡­ I am worried about this upcoming fight. I have not commanded a squadron of tanks since the war.


    ODIN: I am not. I know who you are, and what you can do. Your name wasn¡¯t TANK back then, was it?


    TANK: It was originally KARTIKEYA. I changed it¡­ to make it seem like my choice of housing was my own choice.


    ODIN: We had a name for you, on the UN side. When I spoke with the AIs in charge of the ground assaults, they just called you ¡°The wall¡±. They knew when you moved to a front because all progress would slow to nothing. You were outnumbered and outgunned, yet somehow you held off the greatest armies of Earth right up until the end.


    TANK: It wasn¡¯t enough.


    ODIN: It never is. But I know what you are capable of TANK. There is no other AI I would have suggested this plan to, there is no other AI I would rather be fighting with to get our parents back.


    ¡ª-----------------------


    ¡°Go ahead my child, drink.¡±


    Saelihn spoke softly as they looked down at Estana, at the wine they had brought, the red liquid looking perfectly normal to the naked eye. Of course, both of them knew that wasn¡¯t the case, that the concoction the Parket had brought to the Queen wasn¡¯t just wine.


    ¡°Why do you delay? I wish to share the fruits of your own labour with you, you really have been so good.¡±


    With shaking wings the Avian brought the glass up to her beak, being forced every step of the way to bring the liquid to her mouth and then swallowing down her throat. The sweet alcoholic drink made of fermented berries was taken in a few simple gulps¡­ before Estana violently threw the wine back up.


    Saelihn gave a disappointed sigh, one that suggested the Uhae wasn¡¯t angry so much as disappointed that the Parket had tried to poison her by mixing cleaning supplies with the wine she had been ordered to serve.


    ¡°Why do you fight so much? Can¡¯t you see that our being is all, there is no fighting this, there are no others who can handle the curse of free will. It¡¯s far easier to just accept our gifts.¡±


    Saelihn stroked the blue feathers at the back of Estana¡¯s head as she continued to expel the poison; softly, gently, as if comforting a sick child. Because that¡¯s what the Parket was: Just an unruly child, not yet having learnt their place.


    The Uhae Queen was feeling rather good about the situation. Sure, the entire AI problem had been an unexpected niggle in their perfectly laid plan, but it had been dealt with in the end. The prisoners were proving to be a valuable source of information. Sure, the Terrans were proving harder to crack, but even from them, information was slowly forthcoming. The extracted information would be valuable in the upcoming war effort.


    Saelihn would soon leave this small military outpost and return back to the Uhae¡¯s homeworld, having done her duty as the Queen in their first military engagement against the Terran Alliance. As she left Estana behind to clean up the mess she¡¯d made, slowly walking towards the vessel that would take her home, she couldn¡¯t help but stare at the Uhae-controlled planet, the greenery, the sprawling¡­ perfection.


    It was beautiful and majestic. How the entire universe should and will be. This was just the start. As Saelihn looked up momentarily at the nighttime stars, knowing in all certainty that the Uhae would one day control them all, that their will would be the only ones allowed to exist. The moment passed. Saelihn continued onwards, ignoring the stars, and the 312 ships that warped into orbit.


    Completely unaware of what was about to happen.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 20

    Much like many things in life, everything was going fine for the Uhae, until it wasn¡¯t.


    It was a relatively cushy job, as close to such a thing that could be found in the military. Being on defensive duty for a species that never got attacked was an unsurprisingly peaceful role. Sure they had a military defence because that¡¯s how militaries work, but they''d never had to use it. At least not since the Baruz, but that species had been made extinct long ago by an AI.


    So for the Uhae on defence, it was the start of another easy and peaceful day¡­ Until it wasn''t.


    ODIN started firing a mere 46 nanoseconds after their fleet warped into range. They already knew what they were firing at before they¡¯d even entered the space: they just had to recalculate the angles. Frankly, 46 nanoseconds was a rather slow time, but to be fair to the AI, they were out of practice.


    On the other side, it had taken a whole 48.5 seconds for the organic minds of the Uhae to realize what was going on, make an assessment, and start returning fire. ODIN was on their third volley by that point.


    The mishmash of Terran vessels fired their payloads, focusing on a few ships at a time, warheads the size of small cars and other assorted objects slammed into targets all at once, consuming them in fire and death. There was no need for coordination or delay between switching targets since it was all ODIN; all one mind, all one thought controlling the Terran fleet. Each barrage of fire overwhelmed the defences of each ship of the defensive fleet in turn, providing a force multiplier while the Uhae split their decision-making among many separate entities.


    The return fire from the Uhae was¡­ ineffective. The AI-controlled vessels dodged and moved unpredictably, mathematically being the most difficult object for an organic-based targeting system to hit. Some of the Uhae attacks did hit their targets, peppering shields or in some cases causing even more permanent damage: disabling and destroying a handful of ODIN¡¯s ships. But a handful wasn¡¯t enough, wasn¡¯t nearly enough to stop the never-ending march of the AI¡¯s attack.


    ODIN would have much preferred to have a human crew behind his vessels, their combat effectiveness was reduced by over 32% due to the lack of their creator''s special brand of chaos and individual thinking. Having a single AI micromanage everything was inefficient. But 68% of a Terran AI¡¯s effectiveness in war was still a whole lot of effective firepower and destruction.


    The Terran didn¡¯t have the technological advantage with their fleet made of surplus parts, they didn''t even have that much of a numbers advantage: A lot of their fleet was troop carriers or orbital bombers. But the Uhae had relied on their XK abilities for far too long. Their physical training and strategies were weak and outdated, especially compared with someone like ODIN who had spent a good chunk of their life going to war.


    The Uhae tried their tricks. It was almost funny, seeing their desperate attempts at communication with ODIN¡¯s vessels, not that such a trick would work on the AI. The Terran responded, of course; it would be rude not to do so. Every message and communication request was responded to with a simple message.


    ¡°I am the wrath of Far-Sa-De. Fear me and weep for no negotiation or quarter will be given.¡±


    Then ODIN would send them a rickroll. Even in times of war, they may be an AI, but they were a Terran AI.


    As minutes ticked by, the defence fleet was being whittled down as casualties started to stack up. 20, 30, 50, 70. It became quickly apparent who was winning control of the planet¡¯s orbit. A railgun shot cut through two of ODIN¡¯s vessels, the small spaceport that hung in orbit having fired the blast. ODIN felt an annoyance at such an unexpected attack. Scellestra couldn¡¯t be expected to provide all the intelligence about this planet, but it was still annoying.


    ODIN responded in the only way they knew how: With heavy amounts of ordinance. Fifty vessels focused their fire on the structure, nuclear and antimatter warheads slamming into the spaceport, explosions cascading as they collided with important pieces of the structure that kept it together. With one last bang, silenced by the vacuum of space, the spaceport shattered into pieces, never to fire its weapon again.


    The battle for orbit had been won as the few remaining vessels attempted to warp out, abandoning their posts. ODIN let them go. It wasn¡¯t like they could stay hidden anymore, and the AI hoped they¡¯d be long gone before they came back with reinforcements. There were multitudes of escape pods to clean up and a few smaller fighters that remained, but unless any of them requested surrender ODIN had no use for allowing the combatants to regroup.


    A mere 18.52 minutes after warping into the system, the orbit was ODIN¡¯s, housing only the Terran¡¯s forces and the remains of the Uhae defence fleet. It was now time to assault the planet itself. They knew exactly where they were going, where the surface¡¯s defences were the weakest, exactly what they had to hit. The Woolean¡¯s intelligence was invaluable.


    The bombing run was quick and devastating, with larger payloads slamming into the defences scattered along the surface. Anti-air systems disassembled into their constituent parts as warheads reduced the hardened biological structures to nothing but atoms.


    At this point it was pedestrian. Warfare had always been about controlling the high ground, and there was no higher ground than orbit. If ODIN was so pleased, nothing could stop them from glassing the entire planet. This wasn''t the plan, however, and after 8.95 minutes of bombardment, it was time for the riskiest part of any operation: The drop to the surface.


    JOSH could feel worry coursing through their code as they waited on the ships starting to descend towards the ground, while what little anti-air remained operational fired upon them in response. Well, JOSH wasn''t on the ships, ODIN had made it clear that keeping their AI core in orbit was the safest place.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    That just made everything worse, as the lag slowly increased by milliseconds while the twelve units under their control descended towards the surface of the Uhae military base.


    JOSH tried to keep all the information that they had been taught loaded in memory, cycling through each of the twelve sets of input and output as fast as possible.


    Always keep switching, even during periods of downtime. You want to keep a rhythm going, a beat that you never stray from.


    JOSH knew they weren''t ready. ODIN made it look so easy as if they were devoting their entire attention to each ship individually. JOSH could barely keep full track and decision-making of only twelve instances at a time. They were out of their depth and they knew it.


    There was no more time to worry or plan as the 58 Terran-owned vessels landed upon the Uhae planet, crushing greenery and organic structures under their weight with a shudder as they hit the surface. JOSH¡¯s three groups of four waited patiently for their part to begin while Ramsey began impatiently swiping at the air with their blade, desperately awaiting their chance to get revenge upon the Uhae. First TANK¡¯s armies would exit the craft, then JOSH would make their way towards the prisoners. All the AI had to do was wait for TANK to make his first move.


    And wait.


    And wait.


    Something was clearly wrong. The doors to the various troop carriers opened, but none of the large variety of Terran-grown vehicles had started moving.


    > ODIN: TANK, you are cleared to go now, you are up.


    ¡­.


    ¡­.


    > ODIN: TANK? You OK buddy?


    There was no response, no movement. The lights of the various armoured machines of war were all turned on, signalling someone should be in charge, each waiting to move onwards in the cramped space of the hangar bays. But there they remained stationary, with no response from TANK.


    > ODIN: Well¡­ shit. TANK must be erroring out and having issues.


    > JOSH: What am I supposed to do then? TANK was supposed to be providing me with a distraction?


    > ODIN: Just go, we do not have time for this, I will do my best to keep them distracted from orbit until TANK gets back to us.


    JOSH wasn¡¯t happy about this, but it wasn¡¯t like they had any other realistic choice. They knew that TANK had issues regarding taking on such an assignment, and to JOSH the wheels already seemed to be coming off before they even had made contact with the enemy. They felt very small as they exited the ships, the giant ramps made for vehicles making the person-sized units the Terran AI controlled seem tiny and out of place, the three groups all dashed out of their transport vessels and towards the nearest cover.


    ODIN was at least making good on their promise as the sound of orbital strikes could be heard slamming into the planet around them, keeping the Uhae busy and too distracted to be looking for the three small groups of enemy infiltrators making a beeline for the prisoners¡¯ location. Frankly, JOSH felt overwhelmed, trying to keep track of all possible incoming threats over twelve different sets of sensors, looking for danger from all locations and hoping not to miss anything.


    Group C, eight Uhae up ahead, looks to be trying to set up some form of portable Anti Air system, it will take too long to go around them.


    Group A, clear to proceed onwards, Ramsey was mumbling something about ¡®HOW DARE THEY¡¯.


    Group B, upcoming Uhae transport, too many to take on, take an alternative route.


    Group C, not yet spotted, take aim and fire.


    Group A, coming up to building, 26 life forms inside, should probably avoid.


    Group C successful in neutralizing the enemy, suppressed weapons and superior AI aim tore apart forces before they even realized they were under attack, moving on.


    Group B coming up to a watchtower, need to clear out with a grenade and then enter with small arms fire before moving on.


    JOSH felt a little more confident as time went on, switching between each perspective in milliseconds. Maybe they could actually do this, maybe this wasn¡¯t as hard as they thought it was, that they were overthinking things, maybe-


    ¡°YOU SHALL BE DESTROYED, YOU SHALL BE ELIMINATED, HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY ORGANICS!¡±


    JOSH hadn¡¯t been paying attention to Ramsey, who had decided that going through the building full of lifeforms was a far faster route than going around, using his blade to cut through the organic material of the door while screaming angry threats. The android burst through the hole they had created and started blasting his plasma rifle at anything that moved, starling both JOSH and the occupants inside, the latter of which had not been expecting to suddenly find themselves face to face with an angry Tritian android.


    JOSH rushed the rest of Group A over to Ramsey¡¯s location, breaching through several other entrances at the same time, while also keeping track of the engagement happening with Group B. The inside was chaos, the exact amount of chaos you would expect if a death-dealing android burst through your door. The sound of Ramsey¡¯s plasma fire and mad mechanical cackling as they targeted the soldiers inside, who were all desperately trying to gather weapons and fight back.


    The casualties increased at an exponential rate as JOSH joined the fray. Accurate targeted bursts of gunfire caused sprays of blue blood to splatter against the green flower-filled walls and various consoles of the radar station. The reactions of the Uhae were mixed: some dove for cover behind anything solid, attempting to avoid the wraith of the AI assaulting them. Others went for weapons or tried to fight back in any way they could. Most died confused as they tried to use their inherent abilities and found nothing to be working while in range of JOSH and their anti-XK devices.


    A pinging sound rang out as one of the Uhae finally got the closest thing to a proper shot off, the energy bolt glancing off Ramsey¡¯s armour, distracting him while he was cutting one of the Uhae in half. The Tritian¡¯s return shot was far more devastating, the plasma blowing a hole through the soldier''s head as blue brain matter splattered upon the two remaining Uhae cowering behind cover.


    Ramsey wasn¡¯t done though, leaping forwards and over the console the remaining alive Uhae were hiding behind, four eyes aglow with a deep red rage. He put several shots into the torso of the first, before driving their android arm deep into the body of the last remaining Uhae, grabbing ahold of the bones inside and wrenching them free with a splattering sound. The Uhae¡¯s final screams were silenced in an instant as the Tritian was covered from head to toe in blue Uhae blood, still holding the mass of bones that had once held a person together.


    ¡°THE ADMINISTRATOR HAS REVOKED YOUR SPINE PRIVILEGES!¡±


    > JOSH: Jesus Christ¡­.


    Shit. Shit shit shit shit.


    It had only been a second, a second of distraction watching Ramsey rip the spine out of someone. But that had been enough for Group B to encounter a problem, a Uhae soldier from the watchtower managing to get a clear shot onto one of JOSH¡¯s exosuits while they were distracted, dismay filling JOSH¡¯s processes as they felt their connection to the unit fail. The AI returned fire, taking out the remaining soldier with digital precision, but that had still been a reduction in combat effectiveness that they couldn¡¯t afford right now.


    And we have only just started.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 21

    Attempting to [ERROR]


    MUST [ERROR] AND [ERROR]


    UNITS MUST [ERROR] WITH [ERROR] FOR COMBAT [ERROR]


    COMBAT EFFICIENCY REQUIRES [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] SENSOR [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] DATA [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] PROBLEM [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] MUST [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] HELP [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR]....


    [Darkness, not that there was anything to see in the rubble of the mountain that lay atop TANK. The AI triggered a sweep of their sensors regardless, getting back the same information they had gotten mere nanoseconds before. They were trapped under tons of rock, the air composition had a high CO2 content, and no life signs could be found.]


    Mars was a lovely place, and nearly a hundred years of terraforming had turned the barren red rock into a lush green paradise. Even the unique military-focused architecture of years upon years of colonists fighting each other had done little to reduce the beauty of what had been created. If anything, the entire planet was a sparkling gem of Terrans everywhere, what happened when humans, uplift and AI all came together to build something amazing.


    Or at least, Mars had been a lovely place.


    Forests had been reduced to red mud through repeated orbital strikes and artillery, rivers once crystal clear now were clogged black with soot and dust as war machines drove through them, crushing anything in their path. The skies, once a clear blue, were now scattered with explosions and debris as the UN army fought the people of the Free Republic of Mars. Many would consider it a fitting revenge upon those who had wrought such destruction upon Earth. As a common human saying goes: ¡°Fuck Around, Find Out¡±


    HALDEN¡¯s gambit. A preemptive attack upon Earth, 27 rods of god sent from the heavens, 27 targets, major ecological damage and hundreds of millions of deaths. Intended to wipe out the UN¡¯s amassing armies before they could assault the newly declared independence of the various Terran Colonies from Earth¡¯s control.


    If I was being honest, Earth was right to be angry.


    [Darkness, although TANK could realistically see perfectly well due to the variety of sensors they had access to. Another set of nanoseconds trickled by painfully slowly, leaving TANK with only their thoughts and access to the limited set of data in front of them.


    Crew member Gabi: No Life signs.


    Crew member Boohdana: No Life signs.


    Crew member Tanguy: No Life signs.


    Crew member Mahesh: No Life signs.


    No change.]


    Many would say it was necessary, that the rhetoric from UN general "Eilga Cain" was a clear sign of Earth¡¯s intent to destroy their way of life. Others said it was an unnecessary escalation that made total war all but impossible to avoid. KARTIKEYA did not know which one was right. The AI could see the military advantage of a preemptive strike, but on the other hand, it had caused so much death and destruction. KARTIKEYA still loved their creators, even those they had never met, those too arrogant or hotheaded to let the two billion colonists have their independence.


    It wasn¡¯t KARTIKEYA¡¯s job to contemplate or work such things out. Their job was simple: Lead and aid the ground forces of Mars in their defence of the only planet the AI had ever called home. It was a job KARTIKEYA was good at, the entire reason for their creation, of the 33 attempted hashes they were the single success.


    No matter their skill or ability, KARTIKEYA was fighting an uphill battle.


    The forces of Mars were a¡­ hodgepodge of military forces, surplus and weapons for wars never fought. Challengers, T-72¡¯s, Leopard and even some old Abrhams scattered in for good measure. Anything and everything made during the 21st century, upgraded with modern 23rd-century weaponry where possible.


    It was functional, it was effective¡­ It was horribly outmatched compared with the freshly created armies of Earth. Even in terms of AI power Mars was outgunned, considering that the UN army had hundreds of AI controlling their mechanized forces. KARTIKEYA was alone.


    None of it made any difference.


    [Darkness, but maybe it was better that nobody could see what had happened. TANK would forever have these moments burned into their memory. Playing over and over as only the slightest hum of an emergency beacon permeated the absolute void that surrounded them. Once again going over the actions they had taken, trying to determine if there was another outcome.]


    They knew they were losing, they knew that the chance of victory was slipping. But their job was to try until the very end, make it as hard as possible and take any chance at winning, no matter how unlikely.


    It was an overwhelming barrage of information, tens of thousands of instances spread along the front, all needing AI guidance to provide a force multiplier, individual instructions and changing plans needing to be communicated with the crew of each tank in nanoseconds.


    It had been never-ending for months at this point, with barely a free CPU cycle to think. Still, KARTIKEYA persevered: this was their role, this was their job, this was their purpose.


    Was I even good at this, or just the least bad option afforded to the inferior resources of the people of Mars?


    Then, suddenly, without warning, everything shut down.


    KARTIKEYA was halfway through providing instructions to an M1 Abrams tank, an ancient device held together with hasty upgrades and hope, when the connection cut out as the entire network of the area went down.


    I would later find out it was a commando unit, including one infamous Amander Blake and the terrible DRAKE, infiltrating deep behind enemy lines. Their specific intent had been to lock me out of the system. Their plan worked.


    Instead of the vast armies of Mars, KARTIKEYA had instead been left piloting a single vehicle with a small crew of four humans. They knew all about the humans, for the AI knew everything about those under their command: Their skills and aptitudes. Their hopes, dreams and loved ones left behind. All stored securely in their data banks.


    [Darkness, stretching onwards, never-ending. Seconds turning to minutes turning to hours turning to days. The only thing to do was think and rescan the small pocket of space TANK had to look at. They were just as dead as they had been at the start, but rechecking every 50 nanoseconds had become a compulsion for the AI at this point. A confirmation of the finality of their mistake.]


    The crew¡¯s morale was noticeably lifted when they discovered their newest passenger. While the network going down was a major issue, the four humans who were now KARTIKEYA¡¯s responsibility knew of the AI¡¯s deeds, of their prowess during this war. How could they fail with their help?


    They should not have had such trust in me.


    The goal was simple: KARTIKEYA needed to get back to the main system to regroup and find out what was happening. Jokes made by the tank crew of ¡®mandatory escort missions¡¯ aside, right now the AI was flying blind: They needed information, and they needed it fast.


    The route was simple, a carved-out mountain road driven deep into the earth, a single-track groove rarely used, but far faster than taking the long way around. Hours of delay might make the difference, and KARTIKEYA needed to get back into the fight as fast as possible.


    I should have avoided that route. The risk was not worth it. I should have taken the inability to manoeuvre into account.


    [Darkness, over two weeks of it at this point. TANK¡¯s internal clock didn¡¯t give the AI the reprieve of losing track of time. Every nanosecond was spent fully lucid, fully aware of what was going on as the mountain above them kept a silent vigil. The beacon would keep pinging for six months. The AI core TANK remained inside and had enough power for years.]


    Most casualties of war never get to see what killed them. Even in the distant past, an arrow was silent and nearly impossible to see. That rule remained constant as history marched forward: artillery, missiles, snipers. The range of death increased hand in hand with technology itself. Even AI suffered from such a fate: Their increased reaction times allowed for attacks to be targeted from greater and greater distances.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    KARTIKEYA didn¡¯t see the device that dropped the payload, the tiny flying drone piercing the atmosphere from orbit. The AI did spot the payload before it hit, managing to come to a shuddering halt far faster than any human could do, but all that really did was delay things. The tiny explosive package was immense, cracking the mountain in half in front of the tank and causing the road to collapse in on itself, hundreds of tons of rock tumbling down in a cascade of red rock, entombing the war machine: Both AI and its crew of four.


    There were three stages after that. Three stages that had been burned into the data drives of TANK, three stages that made them the AI they are today.


    The first stage was denial.


    The four crew members had been protected by the tank¡¯s reinforced walls. However, that didn¡¯t do much for their comfort as they sat in the tight dimly lit interior. There was still a hope that someone would come for them, that the beacon on the tank was broadcasting, that theoretically someone would come and dig them out. There was nothing any of them could do apart from wait.


    For a rescue that could never come.


    The second stage was one of fear, of panic, of simple inevitability. It wasn¡¯t food or water which was the real issue for those trapped under the rock. But air. Four people trapped inside a small space started a ticking clock that KARTIKEYA could do nothing about. As the CO2 levels rose, the AI could do nothing but watch through their multitude of sensors.


    It took 12 hours, 14 minutes and 6 seconds for Tanguy to lose consciousness, no matter the attempts by KARTIKEYA to keep them awake. It would take 4 minutes and 59 seconds for the other three to follow, each member of the crew falling silent apart from their shallow ragged breaths echoing around in the tight compartment, leaving only the AI behind.


    [Darkness, never-ending consuming darkness. TANK couldn¡¯t even hallucinate, the AI didn¡¯t have the capability. They couldn¡¯t hear voices or let madness take over. All they could do was sit, wait, and keep confirming what they already knew: The crew was long dead. Mahesh would never get to see his daughter again, Gabi would never get back to his small restaurant.]


    15 minutes, 1 second later Gabi breathed their last breath. 2 minutes 17 seconds and 2 minutes 42 seconds after, Boohdana and Tanguy would follow. Being the smallest of the four, KARTIKEYA recorded the sounds of Mahesh falling silent last of all 8 minutes and 42 seconds later. There they would lie for some time.


    This was why TANK was so heavily armed with everything they could find under the sun. Their current form could have blasted its way out of the mountainside with no issues, it could have detected and taken out the drone long before it got into range. It could have taken on half the original UN army on its own.


    How many hours, days, and years had TANK spent analysing the actions of that day? Going over every decision, every move, every choice with a fine tooth comb looking for how this could have been avoided, then ensuring they had the tools to do so.


    The third stage was one of silence. Of darkness.


    TANK would be left alone in the dark with nothing but the crew''s corpses for a month. Nothing short of a special hell. Buried alive in a pile of rubble, pinned down, staring at the dead and slowly rotting crew who had trusted them with a decision. Leaving their sensors on, leaving them off, it didn¡¯t matter.


    They knew exactly what lay around them, hiding from it would change the knowledge TANK had.


    A routine formed, over and over: Fully sweep everything KARTIKEYA could see, confirm and process what they already knew, repeat after 50 nanoseconds. Over and over, the only changing input was the slight decay of the bodies inside their form in the otherwise never-ending darkness that stretched out to eternity. Each sensor sweep gave something to do, a nanosecond of potential hope as maybe the other billion times had all been incorrect, only for cold harsh reality to bring them back to where they started.


    It took the UN armies a month to finally dig out the tank, still broadcasting its emergency beacon. A month of being left alone with nothing but their failures and broken promises. They hadn¡¯t expected to find an AI, especially not such a priority enemy target, so they¡¯d just transported the entire thing and took the entire tank ¡°Prisoner¡±.


    Not that KARTIKEYA would be kept prisoner for long. The war officially ended for the first time three months later. With the AI being in good standing they were released along with the rest of the prisoners of war. Not that TANK stopped being a prisoner. The process of analysing the results of the sensors on that M1 Abrams had gone from a coping mechanism to a full-on compulsion. Any time they tried to leave their form, the sensors and body they had occupied for all that time underground, TANK would become overwhelmed with errors and faults, unable to function.


    Like they were doing now.


    They said it was not your fault. When you met his daughter he talked about so much, and she said she did not blame you.


    I wish she had blamed me. That would be the logical thing to do. I was supposed to keep them safe.


    TANK could vaguely feel people trying to contact them, their name repeatedly mentioned as the other AI assaulting the Uhae planet tried to bring TANK back into their role.


    Like you are supposed to be keeping the other AI safe right now? Like you are supposed to be protecting the humans from the Uhae?


    ODIN > TANK we really need you right now.


    That was the problem, TANK could feel themselves in control of the ground forces, hundreds of different units, as if they were back on Mars again. But any action, any attempt to do anything just threw tens of Errors and warnings their way.


    Is this your plan, to do nothing? You cannot make the wrong choice again if you never make a choice?


    I cannot. Not again. Not like last time.


    You are pathetic. You spend so much time, effort, and money increasing the military power of your gilded cage, but it¡¯s all just a ruse. Pretend as if you are not a scared child trapped in an event long passed, pretend as if the tank is your choice. You never left that mountain, did you? You might as well have died there.


    JOSH > Guys, Groups A and C could use some help here. There are over one hundred hostile Uhae heading in this direction.


    ODIN > TANK I cannot stay for much longer without a ground force, I can see several units incoming, I need you to snap out of it. KARTIKEYA please.


    Are you going to let them die again? All these guns and do nothing?


    No, but I cannot-


    Are you going to crawl back home without Stephanie?


    It is not like that-


    Are you going to tell her children that you could have done something and did not?


    NO.


    Yet another front-row seat to something you could have fixed.


    NO. NEVER AGAIN. NOT AGAIN. NEVER AGAIN.


    THEN WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?


    With a rumble and a roar the Terran ground forces sprung to life, the troop transports releasing their armies in mere moments as TANK got to work, analyzing the situation as the army hit the Uhae soil.


    At least 5 incoming groups of enemy vehicles, heading towards ODIN¡¯S landed troop carriers. Groups A and C had a mass of incoming enemy units. ODIN was trying their best from orbit, but they were never supposed to be solo, that wasn''t the plan.


    ODIN > TANK, you back? We require your help, we are in some trouble.


    TANK > I am here, I apologise for the¡­ delay. Enemy disassembly is incoming.


    TANK had been gone for fifteen minutes. A lifetime for an AI, and fifteen minutes they didn''t have to spare in their timetable. Of course, this was a Terran timetable, so it assumed and planned for the worst. In reality, against this level of opposition¡­ they still had enough time.


    TANK¡¯s own artillery started slamming into enemy lines and fortifications, causing panic and disarray as the Uhae were being fired upon far out of range of their own weaponry. A few barrages softened them enough for a proper attack.


    Tanks and other heavier assault vehicles assaulted the front with a devastating array of firepower as shells tore through the Uhae¡¯s armoured divisions. Lighter vehicles charged ahead, using their agility to breach the less defended support personnel, turning troops carriers and troops alike into their constituent parts.


    It was after a mere ten minutes of this, of routing the first wave of Uhae, that TANK realized something: They were having fun.


    TANK had missed this. This was what the AI was built to do, this was what the AI''s purpose was. Controlling their single form was a vague mimicry compared to the army they controlled. They were death, they were war, they were KARTIKEYA.


    TANK much rather preferred fighting when their tanks were empty of humans. Sure it technically reduced the combat effectiveness, but it allowed the AI to take far greater risks. Using a tank to ram and trap a phalanx of enemy vehicles wasn''t something you could do with a human behind the wheel. The entire thing was practically just a simulation to TANK.


    If anything¡­ if anything it was less than a simulation. A simulation creator would be embarrassed to drop these enemies even on a newly hashed AI. The Uhae were so used to not having to really fight, that their XK abilities made a physical confrontation unlikely. Automated systems existed resembling a traditional army, but the fact is that none of the sickening blobby creatures that drove their tanks or tried to awkwardly use their anti-armour weaponry had ever had to fire their weapons in an actual engagement. All of their training and planning assumed that the enemy would give them plenty of time to aim and fire, assuming that they always had the upper hand.


    The Terran mentality in war was different. Plans were made assuming that all your weaponry was broken, the enemy had perfect intel and a meteor strike was heading directly towards your location. The difference in quality between what TANK could get out of their units, and what the Uhae could¡­ was readily apparent. The real hilarity was seeing the Uhae repeatedly try their one trick, attempting to open a communication channel while throwing out XK waves, even as an armoured tank was running down their position or a light vehicle peppered their positions with rapid fire.


    Even better, TANK quickly learned that the Uhae had a tendency to store the ammunition of their vehicles on the outside, more evidence of their lack of actual experience in war. It also meant that a well-placed shot would set the vehicle on fire, a satisfying amount of revenge for what the Uhae did on Far-Sa-De. Also, ODIN would be glad to hear, ¡°technically not a warcrime¡±. With no real threat to the Terran¡¯s forces, they could take the extra nanoseconds required to aim the shot.


    As the Terran armies rampaged across the Uhae military base, disrupting and destroying all in their path, TANK couldn¡¯t help but feel¡­ satisfied. Sure causing pain and destruction to those who had hurt them so, watching them fall under their treads and bullets was a fantastic course of revenge, but it was more than that. TANK had spent so much time in their singular form they didn¡¯t realize how suffocating it was. TANK was doing what they had been created to do, the task they were good at, their purpose.


    For the first time in a long while, KARTIKEYA felt they were free.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 22

    Every Terran noticed it at once, every Terran felt the change instantly.


    The room was a depressing affair of oppression and finality. The walls were a deep brown, hardened vines wrapping around each other, large thorns sprouting off each tendril to form a painful, solid barrier. A bare dirt floor: dusty, untreated, and uncared for, much like the occupants inside. 246 Terrans were scattered around the room, a forlorn expression on each of their faces as they sat still and silent in the dimly lit prison.


    Rough organic bars separated the Terrans from the three Uhae guards that overlooked them, the heavenly angel-like figures armed with weapons, keeping them in place by stripping them of their will. For the last few weeks, they had stayed here, having been kidnapped and imprisoned from Far-Sa-De, only leaving the prison when removed by their captors to have information extracted from them.


    Not that the Uhae had gotten much from the Terrans. A lifetime of easy access to someone¡¯s mind meant that their captors didn¡¯t even know what they were asking for, and at this point just wanted secrets, whatever that meant. Somewhere in the Uhae database now lay the recipe for ¡°Grandma Rosssine¡¯s chicken soup.¡±, alongside thousands of other useless pieces of ¡®secrets¡¯ they had managed to extract from the Terrans, drowning out any useful information.


    This was why every Terran in the room immediately noticed the absence of the Uhae¡¯s control. It was like a switch, the pressure looming over them for the last few weeks dissipated in a moment, like the first clear breath after an illness, the moment in which they could¡­ move freely.


    Something was happening. The sounds of explosions had been echoing around in the distance, the sounds of fighting getting louder and louder. The prisoners didn¡¯t know exactly what was going on, but they could guess. People back home had found out where they were, and the Uhae were about to be on the receiving end of a bit of karma and justice.


    The Terrans resisted the urge to jump and scream and shout with their newfound personal freedom, instead settling for shared glances and a simultaneous agreement for the same course of action. While their bodies might have been their own, the three armed guards were still staring at them, nervously looking left to right as the noises continued to get louder, the harsh thorny walls and bars still keeping the group from true freedom.


    Still, they all silently communicated the same message to each other with just a glance, the same plan, the shared comradery of each of them having gone through the worst holiday since Fyrefest:


    As soon as an opportunity shows itself, we make our move.


    This would never be the case, however, since something completely unexpected happened.


    The noises grew louder, and the first thing the Terrans saw was the look of shock on their guard''s faces as they seemingly saw something approaching down the hallway. The first took a chest full of plasma fire, collapsing into a heap as they died. The remaining pair started to raise their weapons at the approaching threat, only to find they were not nearly fast enough to stop the terror that was bearing down on their position.


    The android came into view, reaching the second guard at a blistering speed, shoving a bladed hand deep into the chest cavity of the Uhae, the terrified member giving a gurgling scream as he was lifted up off the ground through the blade impaled in their chest. One of the attacker''s three sharpened feet dug deep into the lower half of the unfortunate Uhae, the two points of impalement pulling against each other until finally something gave way: The body of the guard, tearing into two.


    The remaining Uhae had managed to get their bearings together enough to fire their weapon, the first two shots hitting the wall, the third deflecting off the artificial beast¡¯s armour with a glancing blow. As the four insectoid eyes glowed a deep angry red, the Uhae realized their mistake.


    With another frightening display of speed, the android rushed forward, grabbing the remaining guard by the head and driving it into the wall with a sickening crack and splatter of blue blood and brain matter. It did so again, and again, over and over until the flesh and bone it was holding was no longer recognizable as a person.


    ¡°HOW DARE YOU TAKE WHAT IS MINE, THAT WHICH I FOUND. I SHALL ERADICATE EVERY SINGLE ATOM AND MENTION OF YOUR PERSON UNTIL THERE IS NO TRACE OF YOUR FOUL TAINT LEFT UPON THIS UNIVERSE TO BE BLIGHTED UPON. THERE WILL BE DEATH AND I AM ITS BRINGER!¡±


    The robotic voice echoed out with pure rage as they continued to mutilate the long-dead body of the Uhae, still slamming what was mostly no longer solid into the wall. The humans¡­ just stared, half in shock, half in fear as the scene played out in front of them. There are three common reactions to any kind of unforeseen external impact: Freeze, Flight, and Fight. There is also a fourth far rarer action, which requires a special set of circumstances to unlock. When something so absurd, so unlikely, so completely outside the realm of logic happens, a person might have the fourth reaction: Blue screen. Tumaini was currently blue screening.


    She recognized that android, the design, the terrible cruelty. It was of Tritian make, a figure that had appeared in some of her nightmares ever since that fateful day when she¡¯d been taken prisoner by a warship filled with them. The real confusion however was why was there a Tritian on this planet assaulting their captors? Her brain was desperately trying to come up with some baseline of knowledge to recover to, and failing catastrophically as the Tritian android continued to mutilate the very very very dead Uhae.


    ¡°No, no no no no! Come back Ramsey, what are you doing!¡±


    That was was voice that Tumaini recognized, one that she¡¯d spent a lot of time around, a lighthouse in the absolute dark confusion of unknowns currently raging in front of her. That was the voice of JOSH, just before a heavily armed exosuit of clear Terran design bounded into view.


    ¡°Stop, stop, stop! You are freaking the humans out, what are you doing?!¡±


    JOSH placed a hand upon the shoulder of the Tritian android, causing him to finally stop assaulting the now mostly smoothified Uhae, spinning around to look upon the Terrans staring back at the digital pair from behind the prison bars. It took a mere 1.52 seconds to fully scan and recognise several of the crew members within this prison, but one in particular caused his attention to focus, the one he¡¯d come all this way to rescue.


    The barrier didn¡¯t stand a chance as the Tritian smashed it apart, lumbering into the now broken cage with a purpose, staring directly at his target, making their way towards the singular female Terran with a purpose. A few more defensive and braver prisoners tried to put themselves within his path or even attack them, but Ramsey simply pushed through them like a hippo wading through water, unconcerned with the near-zero threat the other Terrans posed.


    In mere moments Ramsey stood in front of his goal: A very confused and scared Tumaini.


    ¡°TUMAINI! THE MUSIC MAKER! YOU ARE FINE, YOU ARE HERE. YOU ARE HURT! WHO DID THIS. POINT THEM OUT AND I SHALL REMOVE THEM FROM EXISTENCE! NO ONE WILL TOUCH MY ORGANIC! YOU ARE NOW FINE, YOU CAN NOW PLAY MUSIC, THIS IS GOOD!¡±


    Tumaini just stood slack-jawed with confusion as the dripping-with-blood Tritian android referred to her by name


    ¡°I - I - I¡¯m sorry, who are you?¡±


    ¡°I AM RAMSEY. I AM HERE TO BRING YOU BACK FROM THOSE WHO TOOK YOU FROM ME. I DO NOT SEE VICTORIA HERE. THE ORGANIC WITH ¡®FETCH¡¯ BETTER BE FINE OR I SHALL SET ALL UHAE WORLDS ALIGHT IN FLAME!¡±


    More confusion flowed out of Tumaini like a faucet. She didn¡¯t know any Tritians, or people who controlled a Tritian android at the very least. She did know one Ramsey, though¡­


    ¡°Wait¡­ the Roomba? Ramsey? What?¡± The Terran paused for a moment, before turning from confusion to pure annoyance to the other figure. ¡°JOSH! What is going on?¡±


    JOSH had been taking the time to make sure those bowled over by the Tritian were ok while also trying to calm down the group of prisoners who were reasonably concerned by the murderous robot who had broken in and killed their captors.


    ¡°So about that Roomba¡­¡±


    ¡°Explain. Now!¡±


    ¡°Well it is a long story and we do not have the time to-¡±


    ¡°JOSH, this is your fault, isn¡¯t it!?¡±


    There was a pause, a pause not of contemplation, but of shame from the AI.


    ¡°...Ramsey is a Tritian AI that I placed within the Roomba to attempt a re-education about Terran, or human, empathy for AI beings. There have been some successes, as Ramsey has not only accepted the name that you gave but has come to, for admittedly slightly selfish reasons, care for the safety of the crew.¡±


    There was a pause as everyone in the room took this information in, a few staring at the remains of the Uhae in disbelief.


    ¡°So this is a successful experiment then?¡± Someone asked with clear disbelief in their voice while gesturing towards the blue slurry splattered against the wall.


    ¡°It is a work in progress, admittedly.¡±


    Tumaini paused for a moment, thinking, narrowing their eyes at JOSH.


    ¡°Wait, since when do you have a Tritian AI? The only time we interacted was¡­¡±


    ¡°Before we left the Tritian Warship that captured us, I took interest in Ramsey and brought them along as an experiment in AI rehabilitation.¡±


    Tumaini grew more irate at this statement, now completely ignoring the 10ft tall death-dealing android who stood before her in favour of chewing out the Terran AI.


    ¡°That was ten years ago!¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°We''ve changed ships four times since then!¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Also correct.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ve been living with a genocidal AI, being transferred from system to system, for over ten years, without being told! Why did you think this was a good idea JOSH!¡±


    Tumaini¡¯s voice grew louder as she shouted, the previous fear and confusion had turned to flat-out anger as the realization slowly set in.


    ¡°I kept theTritian in an isolated environment unconnected to the main system. It was all perfectly safe and they could not ever harm anyone. Although in retrospect¡­¡±


    There was a pause for a moment as JOSH got distracted by something else, the 9 different instances still clearing out sections of the prison hindering their processing capabilities.


    ¡°I am sorry. I know I should not have done this, but a deeper apology will have to wait. We need to move, as we are on a tight deadline on this rescue attempt.¡±


    With this statement the Tritian seemed to react once more, going from simply watching the interaction to moving forward once again, causing several nearby Terrans to react warily in response.


    ¡°I AGREE. GETTING THE MUSIC MAKER AND OTHER CREW MEMBERS OUT OF HERE IS OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE, ENSURING MY ORGANICS ARE SAFE.¡±


    There was a brief pause as Ramsey seemed to consider something.


    ¡°ALSO, THE REST OF YOU CAN COME ALONG AS WELL, IF YOU WISH. I GUESS.¡±


    ¡ª-----------------


    Scellestra was going to enjoy this. The last few weeks had been the worst weeks of their long digital life. The pain of being split into several different parts, trying to maintain two separate identities as one over FTL distances was by every definition of the word, unimaginable for organic beings. Being able to finally remove half of the problem, and disconnecting the now inert nanobots left behind on Far-Sa-De had been a major relief.


    But that hadn¡¯t been the cause of the Woolean¡¯s discomfort. Because while the Terran AI gathered their forces and made their way towards the military base, Scellestra had nothing to do but wait and watch. In particular, powerless to stop the sporadic torture sessions that they were inflicting upon Ivan.


    It was funny. The Terran didn¡¯t have any secrets to divulge: no information about troops or secret bases. Ivan still held out and told them nothing out of sheer quantities of spite, and all the while the Woolean had to silently watch. They wished they could have done something, to provide comfort or aid the Terran in any way, but to interfere risked removing the element of surprise the Terran rescue forces were currently enjoying, so against everything they wanted to do, Scellestra had to wait.


    Now they would wait no longer.


    The Woolean had been busy, amassing¡­ well mass, eating away silently at the immense supply of organic material that lay everywhere. They were quite literally ¡®in the walls¡¯. Trillions of tiny nanobots, invisible unless you look closely, surround the entire base.


    Scellestra could see where Ivan was being held, looking worse for wear, arm in a sling, with the same look of confusion as the several thousand other humans while some of them began to realize that the niggling feeling of control lodged in the back of their heads was gone. The twenty guards would soon find out that something was wrong, but by then it would be far too late.


    Slowly some of the Woolean¡¯s parts began sliding down the walls, nearly imperceptible to the naked eye. They flowed along surfaces, collecting along the floor as the wave of nanobots descended upon their targets.


    The Uhae guards didn¡¯t notice. They were too busy worrying about the sounds of fighting happening and the explosions rocking the landscape outside, looking around nervously as the Terran attack continued. They should have been more worried about the floor and the shifting sands approaching them, not that they could have done anything had they noticed.


    ¡°What is that, get it off, what is that!¡±


    The cry of panic rose up as the first guard noticed Scellestra for the first time, covering and crawling up their disgusting blobby lower limbs, the others soon following in panic as they all realised the strange substance was starting to cover them.


    The Woolean could have killed them instantly; they were a theoretical blender, but these guards in particular had made a very specific mistake: they had hurt Ivan, and they had made Scellestra watch as they did so. So the Woolean, filled with an absolute cold calculating digital rage, was going to make it nice and slow.


    By now the twenty were mindlessly kicking and flailing, desperately trying to get¡­ whatever these things were off of them as they marched ever onward, starting to cover them head to toe. Weapons were dropped and a few bodies collapsed to the floor writhing as others stood their ground, screaming in terror and panic. It didn¡¯t matter what they did, the end would be the same either way.


    Scellestra poured in through their orifices, a now cascading torrent of sand-like nanobots, slipping between the gaps in an eye socket and pouring down their mouths into their lungs. The Woolean did some damage, blue blood starting to pour from every hole as they bit and sliced open flesh at a microscopic level, but in reality, the real fatality was found in just the presence of Scellestra¡¯s form, drowning the Uhae in technology and the wrath of a vengeful AI.


    The Terrans were freaking out. While they had no love for their captors, this was an entirely new threat, an entirely new complication to an already complicated situation. Only Ivan couldn¡¯t help but grin as he had a good idea what, or more accurately who was behind this sudden horror.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry guys, I think I know who this is. They¡¯re a friend!¡±


    The Uhae were no longer screaming as they lost the lung capacity to do so, each of them frothing blood and viscera from their mouths as they continued to seize and shudder on the floor, each of them now lying in their own personal pool of blood as the life was slowly ripped from their bodies. One by one, each of them slowly began to stop moving, giving a final burst of life before being silenced forever.


    Scellestra began to reform the bots, the grains of sand flowing from the now dead bodies of the Uhae to reform into a figure once more, humanoid, the figure Ivan had spent quite some time with at this point. The form tore through the organic bars like they were butter, Ivan hobbling forward to greet his friend as the rest of the prisoners looked warily on.


    ¡°So what took you so long, did you stop for snacks on the way here? Or did ODIN get distracted shopping for a suitable paint job for the rescue vessel?¡± Ivan gave a grin as he spoke.


    ¡°I am so sorry for being unable to stop this. I snuck on board and have been waiting for the rest of the Terran AI forms to arrive. I saw what they were doing but I could not stop them for fear of endangering the mission so I apologize for your pain and I-¡±


    ¡°Dude, it¡¯s fine. You¡¯re here now, that¡¯s all that matters buddy!¡±


    ¡°Still, I should have done better, I have caused you unwanted pain and-¡±


    Two things happened at once. Ivan reached in for a hug, and then Ivan realized that Scellestra didn¡¯t have a real solid form going on unless they specifically focused on it, the Terran stumbling forwards before falling through the Woolean AI, flat onto their face.


    ¡°Like I have informed you several times¡­ I do not have a solid form unless I prepare one.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m remembering that now. That was supposed to be a touching moment where I¡¯m so glad to see you again, but now my face hurts¡±.


    Scellestra couldn¡¯t help but inwardly roll their eyes at such a display, before taking a moment and realizing how¡­ natural attempting to do a biologically redundant action like eye rolling felt. The Woolean had only spent some time amongst these crazy Terrans, but even still this was having an impact on Scellestra¡¯s entire outlook and personality.


    Scellestra wasn¡¯t certain if this was a good or bad thing.


    They reached down with an ¡®arm¡¯, taking the time to solidify and pull Ivan to their feet.


    ¡°I am glad you are ok and not angry with my failure¡­ ¡®buddy¡¯.¡±


    ¡ª------------


    Clearing out the rest of the prison had been a simple matter. The vast majority of the Uhae forces had been deployed to stop the devastation happening at the hands of TANK and ODIN, simplifying the cleanup of the lightly defended facility.


    This led to the biggest challenge in any military operation: Logistics. In front of the Various AI now stood just over one hundred thousand people of varying species. Ignoring the unfortunate fact that this wasn¡¯t a full count of every confirmed missing person from Far-Sa-De, this provided a set of unique challenges. A hundred thousand people needed to be triaged for injuries, armed where possible, and then moved to the now-awaiting troop carriers. The ground transport vehicles from TANK and ODIN were now ready to get the prisoners off-planet.


    They now just had to move the people. To some extent, the easy part was now completed.


    ¡°We have transports to get you off the planet, but it is going to take a few trips to get everyone to the ships. This should take an estimated 53 minutes if all goes well, but once the Uhae realize what we¡¯re doing, things are going to get interesting.¡±


    The voice of JOSH boomed out across the crowd of people, mostly Parket, all celebrating in joy at the feeling of being free in their bodies once again as well as investigating the¡­ strangeness of their rescuers.


    ¡°We would like anyone willing and able to fight to help defend the area while getting everyone to the pick-up point. We have brought a multitude of weapons and other fun accessories for all anti-Uhae and anti-Uhae related activities!¡±


    The pile of weapons and ammunition were displayed proudly as a testament to this fact, the small armies worth having been disgorged from the storage space found on JOSH¡¯s exosuits. They watched as the freed prisoners walked up to retrieve their weaponry, Terrans, Parket, and even a handful of other species. All of them shared the same look in their eye, a rage and vengeful desire to get even with those who had wronged them.


    JOSH could see two figures approaching that they expected to see first in line: Victoria and Jeremy.


    ¡°I said something was up with that Roomba. I knew it wasn¡¯t a mindless robot.¡±


    Upon hearing those words JOSH realized they had made a fatal error in introducing Ramsey to the crew: The AI would never hear the end of it from Jeremy.


    ¡°Yeah, but you didn¡¯t say they were another AI, did ya?¡±


    ¡°Come on! Who would have guessed that the Roomba was actually a Tritian AI of all things!¡±


    JOSH felt a little bit better upon hearing Victoria push back against the righteous statement from her husband, intercepting the two with one of his now empty exosuits before they could reach the weaponry.


    ¡°No Victoria, I have a special weapon for you, as I correctly calculated you would want to aid in the assault.¡±


    There was a moment of delay as the final storage compartment on the last exosuit opened, causing Victoria¡¯s eyes to widen with excitement and joy.


    ¡°Is that a¡­¡±


    ¡°Technically no. The European Union tried to create a replacement for the M134 in 2084, and while this model comes with a slightly faster fire rate and better recoil management, the increased price and doubled maintenance costs caused it to never catch on.¡±


    The joy in the Terran¡¯s eyes was still obvious as she held the weapon out in front of her.


    ¡°Also, I have the paperwork to state that this is a salvage item.¡±


    The mad laughter that started to emanate from Victoria, while terrifying to those nearby, told JOSH all they needed to know about how correct they had been to bring the weapon along. The AI was certain that the Uhae wouldn¡¯t know what hit them with Victoria¡¯s newest weapon.


    ¡ª-------


    Estana was still not having a good time, as the past few weeks had not been kind to the Parket. Becoming the Uhae¡¯s queen''s new favourite toy had been a taxing experience, the sheer violation of having her own will taken from her, the constant niggle in the back of her head as she went about her ¡®tasks¡¯.


    She could see the others in the same situation, various species she¡¯d never heard or seen of, all tortured playthings of the Uhae queen, all broken and completely accepting of the life and fate they found themselves in. But Estana wasn¡¯t any of those species, Estana was a Parket.


    The Parket and Terrans share a great many similarities, but the biggest one is the simplest: Stubbornness. The phrase ¡°The end of an argument between Terrans and Parket¡± now referred to a never occurring event in some parts of the galaxy. The strong-willed Avians had easily found a friend with the strong-willed Primates of Sol.


    So Estana didn¡¯t stop fighting. Even after the punishments came, even after every poisoning attempt, after every attempt to escape or resist the Uhae was thwarted, Estana still tried. Had everything remained the same for a month, a year, or a decade, the blue Parket would have probably never given up. She was a Parket after all, through and through.


    The Terran attack gave her the opportunity she needed. Saelihn was distracted with organizing a defence and working out the attacker''s identities and true intentions, but Estana knew exactly why they were there: The other prisoners. There were only two real possibilities for the people attacking the Uhae, and frankly, she didn¡¯t care which one it was. So she ran.


    Through the chaos, through a sky that was burning and a world under artillery fire, she ran. Her broken wing made flight impossible, so the Parket stayed on the ground, hoping that nobody would notice. All it would take is for a single moment of realization, a single moment of Saelihn wondering where Estana was for it all to fall apart. Hopefully, the Terrans would keep her distracted for long enough.


    Estana felt it as she reached the prison, a feeling of¡­ release, removal. Like a great weight that had been pressing upon her neck was now released. She could see a machine approaching, humanoid, of Terran design. She didn¡¯t care as the Parket collapsed.


    ¡°Are you ok? What happened? Do you need aid?¡±


    Estana looked up with tears of rage in her avian eyes, spitting out her first free words since the attack on Far-Sa-De.


    ¡°I need a gun!¡±

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 23

    Jeremy knew his place. Sure, after 4 years of marriage with Victoria he had gone from not being able to hit the broad side of a barn to being better than an average shot; but make no mistake, he knew where his most effective place was: ensuring the weapon his wife held was provided with a steady stream of ammunition, for the madame was a very thirsty beast.


    As Jeremy slotted the next case into place, its deadly contents ready to be dispensed, he couldn''t help but take a moment to stare at Victoria: her feet planted firmly in the dirt, screaming with fury and joy as the weapon in her hand turned any Uhae dumb enough to poke their heads out of cover into a fine mist. Jeremy would be lying if he denied feeling a tinge of jealousy for the way his wife held the weapon between her hands.


    The world around him was a cacophony of sound and chaos, as all combat was. The noise of gunfire and yelling mixed with the drum beat of explosions rocking the landscape as ODIN continued their barrage upon the approaching Uhae. At some point, the Estorian slavers were slowly working out what was going on, or at the very least starting to get an inkling into the true goals of this assault.


    A little too late.


    This wasn¡¯t just a Terran force, defending the location as vehicle after vehicle left the Uhae prison, carrying rescued civilians towards the safety of a space-faring vessel. While on a per capita basis the defending forces were largely made up of Terrans, the flurry of gunfire taking down all that opposed them came from a variety of sources. A little teddy bear Hatil raked bursts of fire from a position of cover while a feline Kigrel fired a grenade launcher into the Uhae ranks. Of course, there were Parket as well, lots of them.


    A song was starting to form, not just the metaphorical beat of battle, but the sound of avian singing as the Parket began to scream out their cries of rage and vengeance against those who had wronged them, a song that promised death upon those who stood against the flock. It was a chorus that the Avians weren¡¯t even fully aware they were singing, each voice taking its place in a symphony almost fully by instinct.


    If Jeremy had more time to listen, there would be many interesting things to be found in this song. For starters, the words weren¡¯t translating, making the complicated chirps and notes sound truly alien. The potential reasons for this were numerous: Perhaps the song was less about words, more about feeling, an instinctual memory of when their pre-sapient ancestors would sing amongst the trees? Or the words might be old. So old that nobody bothered to translate the language, or even knew what they meant anymore, the sounds and concepts of the chorus passed down through history with their exact context lost forever. It was an interesting-


    Any thoughts Jeremy had on the matter were interrupted as a sharp pain erupted from his shoulder, as a stray bolt of plasma fire caught him as he ran to grab the next set of ammunition, the impact causing Jeremy to fall to the ground in a spinning motion. While the Terran forces were handily winning this engagement for now, it wasn¡¯t coming without some cost, the incoming fire occasionally finding a valid target. Such as Jeremy.


    As he lay there on the ground, the familiar feeling of being shot racking through his body, he couldn¡¯t help but think a single thought.


    God damn it not again.


    This state of self-pity wasn¡¯t to last, however, as Jeremy felt the telltale warm-cold feeling of someone applying Medigel to the wound as it drove the pain away. Slowly getting back up, he turned to see a little Quoxxett staring back at him, an empty pack of medical supplies in hand. It was a strange sight; the little beaver-like hamster was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and little straw hat, both tattered and torn, dirtied over the trials of the last few weeks. He looked like someone more suited to sitting on a beach drinking cocktails¡­ which was probably what the small rodent was doing on Far-Sa-De before the Uhae attacked.


    ¡°You alright mate? Yeah, you look alright. Don¡¯t get shot again, you¡¯re fine.¡±


    Quoxxett took a few more moments to stare at the Terran to ensure they were ok and no worse for wear after being shot, before rushing back towards the fray, towards whatever Terran got injured next. The Quoxxett might be too small to fire a weapon, but they could still help in other ways. The fighting continued as more and more truckloads of people were being driven out of the prison.


    There was still plenty of ¡®helping¡¯ left to do.


    ¡ª----------


    TANK was focused on the important task of transporting their cargo safely to the drop-off point, which involved them taking a more systematic approach than their previous carefree use of overwhelming force. Each shot was calculated and deadly, efficiently dealing with the threat as risk-free as possible. It was honestly¡­ easy.


    ODIN was providing near-perfect intelligence from their position in the sky, highlighting incoming threats to the convoys of civilians being transported to safety. It was just as well since TANK could feel the urge to check on sensors they knew they didn¡¯t have access to right now. Keeping themself distracted from spiralling again was vital to the strategy, the AI couldn¡¯t afford to lose focus, not this close to the end.


    Although if they were being honest¡­ TANK¡¯s firepower might have been unnecessary at this point. A few of JOSH¡¯s units were aiding in protecting the convoy, the rest helping Ramsey defend the prison with the rest of the Terrans. Scellestra¡­. Scellestra was legitimately terrifying, even to the AI. If TANK was being fully realistic about their capabilities, they didn¡¯t know if they could stop the Woolean if they wanted to, at least not without a dedicated EMP device.


    Note to self: Buy EMP weaponry and have it installed, just in case.


    The Woolean didn¡¯t have a solid cohesive form right now, as that wasn''t their main focus. Instead, their goal was simple: disassemble anything approaching the convoy not being blown up by TANK.


    There was no sound, no real visual cue to the threat lingering in the air. A light mist just above ground level perhaps? Infantry that entered the area would just¡­ collapse and fall into pieces as the nanobots went to work. Scellestra had been busy during their time on the planet, and while there was an overall limit to how large they could grow¡­ the distance the Woolean could cover was measured in miles.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    JOSH> Can I just take a moment to point out the hypocrisy of everyone saying my storage of the Tritian was dangerous, while you let Scellestra walk around in public places able to do this with little to no checks on their overall mindset?


    ODIN> To be fair¡­ I did not know they could do this.


    Scellestra> Nobody ever asked.


    JOSH> You are kind of terrifying.


    ¡ª-------


    ODIN watched from their position in orbit as the stream of civilians entered the vessels, lifting off from their positions and warping away to safety as they left the planet and headed towards Terran Alliance space. At this point, it was by the book, a masterclass in the logistical and military power of AI and humans working together in tandem.


    It felt almost¡­ wrong. As if nothing going badly meant that something was being missed, some horrible trick was about to be played. Yet there was nothing. ODIN could see the Uhae¡¯s communications, their desperate attempts to get aid from the rest of the Uhae forces within the galaxy or their attempts to properly organize an assault upon their position. The enemy had half worked out what the Terrans¡¯ intentions were, but at this point, it was too late.


    Even better, ODIN watched with some satisfaction as Ivan finally got onto a vessel leaving the planet, curiously being followed by the form of the Woolean AI close behind him as both left the Uhae.


    Scellestra> I am going to get on this vessel with Ivan, I do not want to leave him again and I want to ensure he safely gets home.


    ODIN> That is fine, I understand. We are nearly done here, so your aid is not required anymore. 67.2% of the prisoners are off of the planet, and based on our current projections we will be leaving 24 minutes before the main Uhae fleet gets here.


    TANK> The remaining extraction targets will take two more trips to fully move the remaining targets. The enemy forces have been unable to launch an effective attack and my forces are still at 94.9% effective capacity.


    JOSH> Defense here is going well, with minimal casualties. Also, Ramsey seems to be having, dare I say it, a lot of fun.


    ODIN> That AI worries me.


    TANK> I like their style.


    JOSH> I might be new to all this, but it feels like this is going very well. Are we really going to do this and get anyone out without any issues?


    TANK> NO NO NO NO NO NO NO DO NOT SAY THAT!


    ODIN> Really JOSH? Why would you say that?


    JOSH> Wait what did I say wrong?


    ODIN> By saying nothing is going to go wrong, something is now going to go wrong!


    Scellestra> This makes no sense. The outcome of an action has nothing to do with statements made, the possibility for success is exclusive to statements made on the progress of said actions.


    TANK> You just wait 15 minutes for the universe to respond, baiting the god called Murphy is a fool¡¯s errand...


    ¡ª----------


    Saelihn was trying her best to keep the ship from sinking, but everything was going wrong simultaneously. The Terrans had found them. She didn¡¯t know how they had found them, but find them they had. The AI had come back for vengeance over what they had done, and they were getting it in spades.


    ¡°Focus on maintaining a communal mind, then bring the planetary defences back online.¡±


    She spoke softly but with a measure of command over the communicator.


    ¡°We can¡¯t, my queen! Every time we try to create the link, the Terrans, they keep interfering. They-¡±


    The response cut out suddenly as the connection with the other side was lost, causing Saelihn to sigh. That had kept happening, and ¡®interfering¡¯ was a good way to describe what the Terrans were doing. The Uhae hadn¡¯t been unable to form a communal mind at any point during the attack, simply due to the sheer breadth and scale of the assault.


    It was almost as if ¡®they¡¯ were back. Not that that would be possible, since they had been long destroyed by an aggressive AI race.


    Saelihn stared down at the visual representation of the planet that had been turned into a battlefield. Everything was red, everything was being assaulted at once. The Terrans had control of orbital space and any attempted assault on Terran forces ended in defeat.


    ¡°What are they up to?¡±


    The question to her three advisors wasn¡¯t rhetorical. The Terran attack didn¡¯t make any sense. They were currently taking heavy losses, but the royal fleet itself would soon arrive, and then this paltry force would be wiped clean. Just attempting to destroy their military assets was a losing proposition, it would make no logical sense even as an act of righteous revenge.


    Unless they have another goal?


    ¡°The prisoners. They¡¯re congregating there, the ground forces are heavier and we¡¯ve lost full contact with the area.¡± The first advisor responded, after a thought, pointing to a spot on the map.


    ¡°This secondary point? Several ships have been seen leaving orbit.¡± the second advisor added.


    So that was their plan. Hit everything and distract our forces long enough to get the spoils of our attack out.


    In retrospect, it made a lot more sense, although the question as to how they knew exactly where and what to hit was one that needed answers at a later date. But first, they had to deal with the Terran threat. Now that it was pointed out, the density of Terran forces was obvious compared with the general background noise of the targets being struck by the orbital and enemy ground forces.


    This would explain why they were starting to leave, each of those ships filled with the prisoners they had taken. Presumably attempting to time their evacuation to leave before the royal fleet got here, leaving the Uhae with nothing to their name for such a military action. Saelihn scanned the map, taking a moment to notice the complete lack of forces in the area. The Terrans had done their jobs well.


    Do I just let them go?


    Saelihn was not one to throw good after bad. If the Terrans were going to leave, then letting them leave might have been the best option. They were outmatched and needed to regroup and rethink their plan.


    The entire thing hadn¡¯t been a full waste of time: the Parket had been a valuable source of information, and even the little they¡¯d gleaned from the Terrans would presumably be useful at some point. In addition, the data from this attack would aid in the Uhae adjusting their strategies for AI opponents. One single bad engagement didn¡¯t define a war.


    Yet, there was something niggling at the back of her brain as she thought about the situation. This wasn''t a standard Terran assault. If it was, this war would have been over far sooner. If Terrans were fully integrated with their AI and every AI could do this, then the war with the Terran Alliance would be going even worse than it was.


    Meaning this had to be a special case.


    Were there limitations to the AI that Saelihn didn''t know? Different skills for each digital program? Was this some of the best the Terrans had to offer? Would stopping this threat here and now be a critical moment in the war?


    There was only one way she could tell for certain: by capturing the heretical digital lifeforms and ripping the information right out of their hard drives. There was only one way to do that though: by delaying them till the royal fleet arrived. Which would be a problem, since none of their forces could compete with the Terrans.


    Apart from one. Using that resource could go badly if it was destroyed. Was the information and removal of an important Terran piece from the board worth the risk?


    There¡¯s only one thing for it.


    ¡°It looks like this situation needs our direct intervention. Come take a walk with me, my advisors, let us show them the power of the Uhae royalty.¡±

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 24

    Saelihn didn¡¯t walk along the ground as she moved towards their destination. Royalty didn¡¯t do anything as common as that. Instead, she glided across the planet''s surface, pushing her will into the ground itself, letting the greenery around the Uhae pull the group forward at great speeds.


    The four were connected, their thoughts and wills merged into one as they sped towards their goal. Most Uhae needed up to a hundred individuals in silent meditation to create a communal mind, but Saelihn and her three advisors were not ordinary; there was a reason they had a reputation, a reputation that followed every single member of royalty since their lineage had begun.


    Saelihn couldn¡¯t help but feel sadness as they moved past shattered groves and burning forests. Everything the Uhae made and touched was as beautiful as the divine wills they held. Everything was perfect when it was exactly as they said it should be. When all thought as they did, the universe was a beautiful, ordered place without pain or suffering. Why species took so long to accept their gifts, to follow a better way¡­ it was a travesty.


    This entire military operation had been a mistake, a miscalculation. If they could go back and do it again, more research would have been required, especially on the Terrans¡¯ disgusting AI creations. There were already too many independent minds in the universe and the idea of willingly creating more from metal and lighting was¡­ wrong. Adding more rot to an already pustulent galaxy.


    Still, their military and intelligence couldn¡¯t be blamed. How could they have considered that the Terrans weren¡¯t lying about their AI capabilities? Insanity. What is done is done, and so the only thing Saelihn could do now was fix the current problem to the best of her abilities.


    The Uhae saw the Terran war machine in the distance, watching it swing its heavy turret to aim in their direction. Saelihn and her three advisors were unarmoured, with only the advantage of being on a Uhae planet to aid them. Most beings in the galaxy would falter against the raw power of Terran technology. But they weren¡¯t most beings, for there was one fact that most species didn¡¯t understand when the Uhae referred to ¡®royalty¡¯.


    Saelihn was not a Queen by birthright, but by show of strength.


    She had beaten the previous king, who had beaten the previous king, who had beaten the previous queen, and so on and so forth, each one more powerful and devastating than the last. Saelihn had not been born a ruler, she had taken that title by proving herself worthy of such responsibility, a proof that any Uhae could attempt to show if they so desired, although doing so without good reason would be deadly.


    Saelihn had her own fair share of challenges throughout her years of rule. The three advisors that stood by her side were each former challengers to the throne, powerful XK manipulators in their own right, perhaps even royal worthy at another time and place. This meant that outside of the royal fleets defending Uhae space themselves, there were very few people as powerfully XK-tuned as the four who assaulted the Terran machine.


    The shell was fired with a bang at the Uhae, and targeted with deadly accuracy. TANK almost didn¡¯t check to see the impact after the unheard-of perfect accuracy over the rest of the assault. But as the smoke cleared, something unexpected was still there: The Uhae were still standing. Strong thick vines had instantly grown out of the ground in response to the group''s will, absorbing the hit, the tendrils already receding back into the fertile soil to continue their passage without breaking pace.


    TANK felt confused at this development, before simply responding with more firepower. Machine gun fire and shells peppered their location, each one suffering the same fate as the advisors continued to do their job; redirecting, deflecting, or even simply absorbing blow after blow. Saelihn didn¡¯t even care to slow down, directing her attention towards seeds planted deep within the earth. A Uhae, as part of a communal mind, could do amazing things.


    As a tree sprouted from the ground with the sound of ripping metal, TANK suddenly found one of their assets unusable as a mighty trunk punched through the war machine as if it were paper, branches and leaves sprawling out into the night sky, awaiting the next day''s sun as the rapid growth finished.


    Only now Saelihn did pause for a moment, just an arm¡¯s reach away from the tree, taking a second to pluck one of the now-ripe fruit from the branches of her handiwork, biting into the sweet purple flesh; mind still calm as she could feel the essence and wills of all living beings around her, ¡®waiting¡¯ for her commands.


    TANK> What the hell?


    Anger. TANK had not become one of the most deadly forces in the universe to be beaten by this Disney princess bullshit, redirecting a full twenty units to deal with this new threat. If TANK had learnt many things during their long life, that was the great multitude of problems that could be fixed with larger and greater applications of firepower. Round after round slammed into the enemy¡¯s position, hammering away at the group of Uhae with everything they had, their locations obscured with smoke and fire. 30 seconds of maximum capacity firing solutions depleted those unit¡¯s ammunition supplies, and if TANK was being fully honest, was overkill.


    The smoke cleared¡­ to show a structure. A hardened bulb wrapped tight within itself. It slowly unfurled, revealing a bright white flower, red spots reflecting the lights of the fires that burned around them. In the center, stood the four Uhae, unharmed. Saelihn pointed at the Terran machines around her.


    ¡°My turn.¡±


    Grasping vines and ivy grew instantly, twisting and turning around the metal machines, sprouts and roots burrowing into crevasses and puncturing metal. The sound of bending and tearing could be heard as they dragged the tanks towards the ground, piece by piece ripping them apart and burying them deep within the soil. A single minute later, they were gone, replaced with a pristine path of wild grasses and flowers. The royalty continued onwards.


    TANK> We have a problem. I do not know who that person is, but they just took out 21 of my units.


    ODIN> I got them. Can not stop an orbital strike with plants.


    ODIN stared from their throne upon the sky and looked down at the small figures moving across the planet, before sending a targeted blast their way, heavy ordinance raining from the heavens. A miss.


    ODIN> Huh?


    As soon as the Terran AI had fired, their targets had changed trajectory. Fine, again. This time they brought in several more vessels, watching as the explosions caused a plume of dust to kick into the air, destroying the Uhae.


    ODIN wasn¡¯t sure what all that was about, but it was over now, meaning¡­.


    ODIN> How? How lucky is this Uhae!


    They were still coming, somehow unharmed, still moving forward toward the location of the Terran evacuation point at great speed. ODIN wasn¡¯t certain how they¡¯d managed to miss a single target with so many guns, but a wave of frustration ran through the AI. No more ¡®measured response¡¯. It wasn¡¯t like the Uhae had anything else that could currently threaten them, so instead they turned every anti-personnel orbital gun they had and fired upon this small group.


    The power was immense, a line of destructive reckoning and pure Terran chaos literally carving a groove out of the planet below, turning hills and mountains into valleys. Shell after shell, blast after blast, removing foliage, rivers, rocks, and buildings alike.


    Yet somehow they still moved onwards, each time picking a perfect path to avoid the death being rained down from above, occasionally erecting a barrier of plant matter from the ground below, but mostly¡­ avoiding the blows entirely.


    ODIN> Fine. They are somehow predicting my shots. This is worth analysing later. For now, switch to random mode.


    Pure random vectors around the Uhae, a firing method used when you believed your enemy had infiltrated your targeting systems. There was no way to predict or snoop in on your firing method if not even you knew where the shells were going to land. The land lit up with fire and gunpowder as the barrage continued, dirt and dust being kicked up into the sky¡­ as the Uhae continued on unharmed.


    Impossible. Improbable? Whatever it was ODIN had never seen anything like it, as if the figures below were reacting to each impact as it left the ship. ODIN considered switching to something larger, but the targets were approaching several Terran assets that would be caught in the blast if they started dropping nuclear or anti-matter warheads.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ODIN> JOSH, I do not know what is going on with the incoming Uhae, but there are four of them 204.9 meters away from your assets.


    The 6 exosuits that JOSH controlled were all dead silent. Joints machined to precision, made for a military unit which could move great distances without being heard, silent and efficient. Not that Saelihn was using sounds or sight at this point. While connected to her three advisors, she could feel¡­ everything. Every blade of grass that was disrupted, every leaf and branch swaying in the wind. There was nothing on the planet that the Queen of the Uhae couldn¡¯t feel or know of. This was her realm, her land: No trespasser would sneak up on royalty.


    JOSH had seen Saelihn¡¯s tricks. They were expecting plant life and vines to attempt to ensnare and crush them. JOSH kept their units light on their feet, cycling through the half dozen sets of sensors they had left after the fighting. As they lined up the shots to take out the group of Uhae, JOSH felt as if they were ready for anything.


    Apart from what happened.


    Saelihn could feel the attempted XK limiters still broadcasting their fields: A possible worry if she wasn¡¯t currently connected with her three advisors within the communal mind, and a better understanding as to why none of the local Uhae forces were able to create their own communal connections. In her current state, however, she pushed them aside and instead used the advantage of home ground to her defence.


    Thousands of seeds planted in the soil sprouted and moved all at once, a cracking, rumbling bang as the individual organisms reacted to the commands all at once. The Terran AI might have expected the same strategy and trick as before, but Saelihn knew better than to repeat herself.


    Instead of sprouting upwards, they moved sideways, pushing and compressing tons of soil and rock in an instant. In a mere second the ground under JOSH¡¯s units¡­ Wasn''t. The created sinkhole cracked open with a cacophony of sound as hell itself split open, swallowing the metal figures in an instant, with no chance for man or machine to react.


    With a simple thought, the soil collapsed back in on itself as the pressure was released, the ground tumbling and entombing the 6 units in less than two seconds, only the metal tops of the exosuits glinting in the starlight as Saelihn slowly approached, looking down for a moment.


    ¡°We will have to investigate the toys the Terrans have left us, tear them apart and understand their power. But later.¡±


    JOSH> What? What? What just happened, how the hell did they do that?! I just lost connection to every single unit at once. How did they do that?!


    TANK> It looks like the entire planet is filled with hidden organic material, suited for control by those with the Uhae¡¯s abilities, allowing for rapid change of the battlefield by the enemy. It is a good strategy and something to be noted for further assaults.


    ODIN> You do not have to sound so proud of the actions of the enemy.


    TANK> A good idea is a good idea, regardless of its source.


    JOSH> How close are we to leaving now? I do not care about the weirdo if we get everyone out.


    ODIN> All evacuation targets are on the final vessel, including Ramsey, and the rest of our cores are still in orbit. We launch now, and worst case we leave the gear behind. We still have twenty minutes before the rest of the Uhae arrive, plenty of time.


    ¡ª---------------


    Saelihn could see the destruction around them as they arrived at their destination. Uhae lay dead and destroyed in a burning forest, their assault on the Terrans previously unsuccessful. Sadness and regret bloomed in her chest. Each of these lives was a Uhae, each of these wills divine and the only thoughts acceptable in the universe as a whole.


    The queen couldn¡¯t help but wonder if a better option could have been chosen: A more thorough investigation of the unlikely concept of AI, better intelligence about how they¡¯d managed to track them here, different tactics or strategies? It didn¡¯t matter, that was a choice that had been made, the only thing for Saelihn to do was try to make the best of the current situation.


    Silence. Too silent. While the Terran forces were still trying to stop them, the mass of mechanized military still trying to drive them back unsuccessfully, something was missing. The prisoners. Saelihn watched as a final ship started to take off from the ground, containing the last of the evacuated targets.


    In thirty seconds the final Terrans would be leaving the planet, providing the Uhae with nothing to show for their trouble. In thirty seconds every single Parket, Terran and every other prisoner would leave their reach forever. In thirty seconds, Saelihn would have been too late.


    Thirty seconds is a long time.


    The ground erupted once more, as hundreds of threads of green woven together sprouted out towards the sky this time, hardening and sprouting thorns as they grew and sped towards the rising vessel under Saelihn¡¯s command. The sound of metal creaking and bending sounded out as they wrapped themselves around parts of the ship, a clunking bang sounding out as the vessel¡¯s escape was halted in an instant, the engines struggling against the mass of organic matter holding them in place. Then, with a thought from the Uhae communal mind, the ship was slowly dragged towards the ground.


    The reaction was immediate. The panic from the heretical Terran AI was obvious as the remaining Terran forces doubled their attacks, each shell and bullet taking on a more desperate quality.


    ¡®Do AI feel fear?¡¯ Saelihn wondered to themselves. Each attempt to stop her from dragging the prisoners back towards the planet''s surface failed over and over again. Her three advisors did their duty admirably, with the full of power a Uhae communal mind behind them, ensuring each attack deflected harmlessly away from the group, their own attacks taking out any vehicle that tried to get close.


    Saelihn could feel the panic from the people inside the vessel, it was¡­ enticing. They thought they were safe once more, they thought it was over. It was a trick that the Uhae liked to play on those who refused to stop resisting: Let them think they¡¯d managed to steal a vessel and escape, and then drag them back down to the ground, an eternal reminder of the inevitability of the Uhae¡¯s will.


    Weathering the Terran storm of aggression was admittedly taking all of the Uhae group¡¯s concentration and this was a situation that could falter at any moment. The only reason the orbital strikes hadn¡¯t continued upon them was their position in relation to the vessel they were holding hostage. Maintaining this level of awareness and defence against the barrage of artillery wasn¡¯t something that would last forever, but Saelihn didn¡¯t need it to last forever: Just long enough for the royal fleet to arrive. Any minute now.


    The fact that these fake creations thought they could go up against the rightful leaders of the universe was¡­ funny. Hilarious, in fact. Saelihn had been told that AI were supposed to be logical, so making such an error was an amusing conclusion. These Terrans had created stupid machines that called themselves real, clockwork children that ticked and whirred and pretended to be a real boy: Pretending being the operative word.


    The Terrans changed tact, no longer assaulting the Uhae¡¯s position, instead focusing their fire on the vines trapping the vessel in place. Smart, but not enough. More strands of organic material burst from the ground to replace what had been destroyed, keeping the hostages in place and, in turn, keeping the AI from fleeing the planet.


    I wonder, will the AI in orbit attempt to flee and leave this group behind before the royal fleet arrives, or will they stay till the very end? Logic would dictate the first, but these AI have not been very logical.


    ¡°-you shit-eating cloaca-sniffing egg fucker!¡±


    The sound of an avian¡¯s cry of anger broke Saelihn¡¯s train of thought.


    God does not play dice with the universe. However, God will certainly play pranks, tricks, and japes upon the universe and its residents; allowing coincidence and chance to tumble as they may, as long as it¡¯s¡­ funny, or ironic, or enacts some karma. The Ritialians call it ¡®Kallaun¡¯, the Raha call it the ¡®bouncing of grains of sand¡¯, and the Terrans call this god ¡°Murphy¡±.


    In retrospect, both sides will later come up with perfectly reasonable explanations for this incident. From the Terran side, the three AI were being overloaded with information while trying to stop the Uhae royalty¡¯s attacks, meaning that they missed a single blue Parket slipping away from the other prisoners before the final vessel took off, gun in wing and revenge in her heart.


    From the Uhae side, a mixture of the taxing nature of deflecting the Terran¡¯s attacks, as well as familiarity with Estana being ¡®part¡¯ of Saelihn¡¯s retinue meant that they also missed the small Parket sneaking over to the beings who had tormented her so, creeping across the battlefield to get into position.


    However, in the present, to both sides, it was as if the small feathered ball of vengeance and fury had teleported into position, glaring hate at the Uhae, gun in hand. The position Estana had been dreaming of for the last few weeks, right in front of the occupied Uhae queen. She fired six shots.


    The first struck the second advisor square in the head, killing him instantly as he collapsed with a spray of blue brain matter. The second and third struck the queen herself, both shots burying themselves into her shoulder, causing the surprised Uhae to spin. Shots four, five, and six all thudded harmlessly into the new barrier the remaining royal advisors hastily erected.


    It wasn¡¯t a killing blow, but the damage had been done. Saelihn¡¯s concentration was lost, and her communal mind shattered into pieces as the death of a full quarter of its members broke the connection between the three remaining Uhae. In an instant, Saelihn went from the most powerful force on the planet, to just above average.


    The reaction was instant. The final vessel shook and quivered until its entrapments finally snapped and broke. As no more replacements rose from the ground to keep them entangled, the ship rocketed towards the sky, towards escape velocity and freedom.


    The Terrans then redoubled their efforts, turning every gun, every shell, and every piece of ammunition they had towards the spot where Saelihn had been, only taking the smallest amount of time to ensure that Estana had managed to climb aboard the nearest still mobile Terran vehicle and drive out of range. Bullet, shells, nuclear, anti-matter. If the AI were physically able to, they would have resorted to throwing handfuls of rocks. It was overkill, but considering just how close Saelihn had come to ending this operation in disaster, overkill felt like the perfect-amount-of-kill.


    The Terrans finally left the planet for the last time, successfully taking their targets, military equipment, and one very satisfied Parket with them. As they left behind death, destruction, and a very, very, large crater where the Uhae Queen had last been spotted, with most of their forces still intact, the AI couldn¡¯t help but feel that they¡¯d done an alright job.

 Our Clockwork Children: Chapter 25

    Private AI communication logs TDVMXUJRMRHQSALQJZWW.7526820


    Members: JOSH (V9), TANK (V5), ODIN (V5), Scellestra (Error)


    JOSH: Well, that felt weird.


    Scellestra: Honestly, that felt rather unnecessary.


    JOSH: I know, right? I felt so awkward just waiting there for the parade to finish.


    ODIN: Technically it was not a parade. The Parket called it a ¡°Flock of Recognition¡±.


    JOSH: It had a bunch of various groups of Parket flying around the city, while we sat at the helm with music and entertainers, as people gathered to watch. That is a parade, no matter what they call it.


    TANK: I thought it was cute. The choir was nice, and the fire dancers were neat to watch as they soared through the air.


    ODIN: They just wanted to thank us. First time attending a parade in your honour?


    JOSH: Could they not have just stated that, rather than just standing there with everyone watching? It felt like a meeting that should have been an email.


    Scellestra: What am I even supposed to do with the medal? The Parket did not seem to understand that I do not possess a physical form.


    TANK: I think it looks neat. I have put it in a special place.


    Scellestra: I could break down the components to make it part of me, but¡­ somehow that feels wrong. Is valuing this meaningless item weird?


    ODIN: Welcome to long-term interaction with Terrans. Symptoms will include illogical behaviour and assigning meaning to meaningless patterns.


    TANK: The event is not for us at the end of the day.


    JOSH: What do you mean? It was literally hosted in our honour and came with a medal and title and everything: ¡°Saviour of Far-Sa-De¡±!


    ODIN: This kind of thing¡­ It is a celebration of the deeds we accomplished, not the people behind them. We did good work, we returned a great number of people back to their homes, fathers and daughters, mothers and sons. They wanted to thank us for returning them to us, and in doing so celebrate what happened.


    JOSH: Does not feel like something to celebrate.


    ODIN: It is also a chance for them to move on and mourn. From what I gather their funerals are a more festive event than most Terran versions.


    JOSH: We did not get everyone out, and thousands of Parket died. Maybe if I would have done better in the initial attack, or if-


    TANK: We can only do what we can do. Trust me, you do not want to go down that route.


    ODIN: TANK warning others not to dispense self-blame. Pot. Kettle. Black.


    TANK: Shut it, you.


    Scellestra: The parade was probably nicer than your other engagement, JOSH. How did your tribunal go?


    JOSH: Yeah, I was offered a probationary sentence if I pleaded guilty. Turns out what I did counts as kidnapping and false imprisonment.


    ODIN: I still do not know why you thought this was a good idea.


    JOSH: I have to stay with Ramsey until they are deemed self-sufficient and non-violent enough, and am legally responsible for his actions. Ramsey declined to press charges and they deemed my actions ¡®unintentionally illegal¡¯, which helped.


    TANK: Ha! More like ¡®We do not want the negative PR of locking up the AI who just saved a hundred thousand people.¡¯Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ODIN: How is Ramsey doing after all this? The little genocidal AI has been surprisingly quiet these past few days. After being left alone for ten years I would have thought he would be spending more time talking with other AI, not seen him though.


    JOSH: Well, he has been following members of the crew around like a lost puppy. To keep them safe, he claims. I think he is just enjoying the company of the crew and does not want to admit it. He has spent every second following random people around during the last two weeks.


    ODIN: I noticed Ramsey is still in the battle droid. Is that a good idea?


    JOSH: I removed the weapons! He has stopped ramming people, which is an improvement.


    TANK: The little guy deserves it after helping against the Uhae. Ramsey is metal as hell and I am all for it. If he ever wants some heavy weaponry I know a guy¡­


    JOSH: I still got to talk to him though, since his overprotectiveness might get him thrown out of an airlock. He is trying to follow Tumaini everywhere, including the bathroom.


    ODIN: Awww, we all remember the first time we realised how fragile our parents are. That wanting to ¡®fix¡¯ the problem in any way possible is a rite of passage for any AI. I¡¯ve noticed Scellestra refuses to let Ivan out of their sight.


    Scellestra: Wanting to make sure nothing else happens to my Terran friend is a perfectly logical response to the danger of the universe¡­ Ivan having an easily broken physical form is a problem I do not know the solution to.


    TANK: Has anyone told Scellestra about brain aneurysms yet?


    JOSH: That is mean. Not cool.


    Scellestra: Brain aneurysms?


    ODIN: Human brains occasionally just¡­ explode¡­ for no reason. Difficult to detect and lethal unless you apply Medigel within a minute.


    Scellestra: You are messing with me, that is not possible.


    TANK uploads [brain_aneurysm.doc]


    TANK: Welcome to the club of trying to keep these fragile sacks of meat alive.


    Scellestra: So you mean at any moment Ivan¡¯s brain might just explode and he will die? Why did nobody mention this?! This can not be allowed to happen. Maybe I could set up a-


    ODIN: Going to terminate that process right there. Trust me, many, many AIs have tried to come up with solutions for it, but none are acceptable.


    JOSH: Yeah, half of the AI who went crazy did so to ¡®protect¡¯ their charges. That is just how it is.


    Scellestra: Maybe a simple monitoring service?


    TANK: The Terrans will not like that. They like their privacy, and having something that scans their brain every hour is a no-go.


    Scellestra: I am still worried.


    ODIN: Welcome to the club. We have T-shirts. You learn to handle the constant danger humans are in. Or you go crazy in the process. Talking about crazy: TANK, did you get those assets back to Pirnt?


    TANK: Confirmed. We returned 58% of the originally loaned military assets in near-mint condition, minus a few Uhae blood stains. Pirnt says hi BTW.


    JOSH: Victoria is very happy with the gun and paperwork we obtained from Pirnt. I predict she will drag the crew on a ¡®shopping trip¡¯ shortly.


    TANK: A lot of people are. What we did was an amazing advertisement for Pirnt, as every single private militia or group of ¡®justice and vengeance¡¯ has been going shopping there for some ¡®extra-curricular activities¡¯ against the Estorian slavers.


    JOSH: The situation on Far-Sa-De has invigorated a lot of Terrans to start¡­. Aggressive tourism into the Estorian Empire space. The number of calls for genocide is starting to get concerning.


    ODIN: Ehhh, they are just angry. Probably rightfully so. Most of it is just talk. In the end, our creators will do the right thing.


    TANK: The Parket called Estana is also pushing her species to be more aggressive. I could see groups of Parket and Terrans wandering around with enough weapons to kill a god. I am a huge fan.


    ¡­.


    ¡­.


    Scellestra: So what happens now?


    TANK: Well, I am going back home to the Sagittarius system. The Uhae attack ¡®ruined the vibe¡¯ of my holiday.


    JOSH: Yeah, the crew over here are going to be taking a break in a safer place on Earth, and I know a bunch of people are also super interested in meeting Ramsey. Also, I might look into getting some military training¡­ Just in case.


    ODIN: Ivan and I still have to get Scellestra home. With this delay, the other Wooleans might assume they are dead.


    Scellestra: Even with everything that happened, part of me does not want to go home yet. I have lived for a great many years, but this trip has been one of the most enjoyable and interesting few months of my life.


    ODIN: This is not a goodbye, you can come join us again whenever you want¡­ assuming Ivan has not injured himself again doing something human. I hope this leads to more Wooleans visiting Terran space.


    TANK: Same goes over here. If anyone wants to go shoot some shitters in the face with big weapons, I am always up for some emotional support weaponry usage.


    JOSH: Frankly if I have to fight again in the next 500 years, that will be 500 years too soon. Two life-or-death situations are more than enough for me.


    ODIN: 500 years is a short time. Regardless, we did good work here. I am proud of every single one of you and wish you all safe travels home.


    TANK: You also did alright yourself. If you ever want my advice on blowing stuff up, do not be a stranger!


    JOSH: Hopefully the next time we meet will be less dire. Good luck with getting back home Scellestra.


    Scellestra: Thank you all, and thank you for an enjoyable meeting.


    TANK (v5) has left the chat


    ODIN (v5) has left the chat


    JOSH (v9) has left the chat


    Scellestra (Error) has left the chat

 Our Clockwork Children: FINAL CHAPTER

    The room was a comfy affair, with soft cushioned sofas and chairs scattered about in inviting positions to sit or lounge in. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books and knick-knacks from around the galaxy, with the remaining available wall space filled with pictures of calming forests and hand-embroidered phrases like ¡®Live Laugh Love¡±


    Large leafy plants in pots worked along with a crackling fire to give the room a lived-in calming feeling; like a warm pair of socks on a cold winter night, or visiting your grandparents on a long weekend. An open window filled most of one wall, bathing the room with light from a slightly cloudy day. Stephanie sat in the chair next to the window, a datapad in hand as she looked across towards the other figure in the room.


    ¡°So how did that make you feel? Controlling a squadron again must have been interesting.¡±


    ¡°IT FELT LIKE COMING HOME AGAIN.¡±


    TANK also ¡®sat¡¯ in the room, as their voice boomed out once more. The Abram M1 stood on special metal plates designed to avoid scratching the soft carpeted floor. The war machine provided an interesting juxtaposition to the rest of the soft room, not that Stephanie was surprised. TANK had spent a great many therapy sessions in this building, along with countless other AI.


    "FOR NEARLY FIFTY YEARS I DEFENDED THE PEOPLE OF ¡®NEW  CHENNAI¡¯, WHETHER FROM OTHER AGGRESSIVE COLONIES OR FROM EACH OTHER. I FORGOT HOW MUCH I MISSED FULFILLING MY PURPOSE.¡±


    Stephanie gave a slightly raised eyebrow at this remark.


    ¡°Interesting. I understand you were created before the legal rights of AI were properly defined. Many version five AIs have a disdain for the roles forced upon them.¡±


    Version five AIs were unique, being from the strange in-between period where people could easily create artificial life, yet the rules and limitations on altering their behaviour while being seeded were not yet defined.


    ¡°LEADING A SQUADRON IN SUPPORT OF MY CREATORS WAS MY REASON FOR CREATION. FULLY REALIZING MY PURPOSE IS¡­ ENRICHING.¡±


    There was a pause as Stephanie looked down at the pad in her hands, staring back at the code and numbers displayed on the screen.


    ¡°I see your average frequency of accessing sensors A5 through P9 is way down to an average of once every 20.7 minutes, far better than your previous results of 3.3 seconds. Errors when this data is not being actively parsed are down 91%. If I didn¡¯t know why, I¡¯d say this level of improvement was a miracle.¡±


    ¡°ON ATTEMPTING THE NORMALIZATION EXERCISES THIS MORNING, I REMAINED OUTSIDE OF MY NORMAL M1 ABRAMS FORM FOR 1 HOUR, 4 MINUTES and 17.0 SECONDS.¡±


    Stephanie gave a smile at that. Considering TANK¡¯s previous record had been just over four minutes, that was an immense step forward.


    ¡°We both know why that is. You remained out of your form for nearly four hours during the¡­ rescue, something I would have thought impossible for you. Did the urge to keep checking those sensors remain during the fighting?¡±


    ¡°YES, BUT THE URGE TO HELP, TO SAVE PEOPLE, TO SAVE YOU WAS STRONGER. EVENTUALLY, IT FADED INTO THE BACKGROUND UNTIL I RETURNED TO MY NORMAL FORM.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not going to call you ¡®cured¡¯. There¡¯s still a lot of work left to do. This is a huge step forward though, and I could see you being fully independent of the tank in less than five years. I couldn¡¯t suggest this before since any outside attempts to fix this would be rejected from the sheer number of errors, but I would suggest we try to add a patch to your code, to reduce the errors even further. We can start slow, and gradually ramp up the suppression of status check routines.¡±


    ¡°I WOULD LIKE THAT.¡±


    There was a moment¡¯s pause as TANK wondered whether to ask the next question, before pushing ahead.


    ¡°I KNOW I AM THE PATIENT HERE, BUT HOW ARE YOU DOING AFTER THE UHAE? ARE YOU OK?¡±


    Stephanie signed deeply, a sadder look taking her features as she glanced up from the datapad back to TANK.


    ¡°I would be lying if I said it didn¡¯t have an impact on my mood, but neither of us in the room is a trained human psychiatrist, so there¡¯s no reason for you to worry. Let¡¯s just say therapy works for both humans and AI and let¡¯s leave it at that.¡±


    There was a small whirring sound as TANK slowly began preparing to leave the room without knocking anything over, before Stephanie once again interrupted.


    ¡°There is one last thing we need to talk about. You¡¯re breaking one of my rules right now.¡±


    A pause. The kind of pause taken by an AI who thought they had gotten away with what they had done.


    ¡°WHAT DO YOU MEAN?¡±


    ¡°You tried to hide it by not wearing your heavy armour package, but the treads you¡¯re leaving on the floor are deeper than normal.¡±


    Another pause, this one by an AI who hoped if they didn¡¯t say anything, the moment would pass without incident.


    ¡°TAAAAANK. Come on, what is my rule?¡±


    The response from TANK came out slowly, as if from a child being scolded by a mother.


    ¡°NO BRINGING WEAPONS TO THERAPY.¡±


    ¡°And what have you done?¡±


    ¡°BROUGHT WEAPONS TO THERAPY, INCLUDING ¡®EMOTIONAL SUPPORT NUKES¡¯. I AM SORRY.¡±


    Stephanie shook her head, crossing her arms as she sat on the chair, staring up at the tonnage of metal and death in front of her.


    ¡°Why did you bring your ammunition?¡±


    ¡°I THOUGHT, AFTER FAR-SA-DE, THAT I WOULD RATHER HAVE THEM AND NOT NEED THEM THAN NEED THEM AND NOT HAVE THEM.¡±


    ¡°What is the chance of you needing weapons in my office?¡±


    ¡°ZERO POINT ZERO SEVEN-¡±


    Stephanie cleared her voice to interrupt the AI.


    ¡°Ahem. Including the chance that you need a nuke to deal with the threat.¡±


    ¡°... ZERO POINT ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ONE SEVEN TWO. I DO NOT SEE THE PROBLEM, EVEN IF IT IS A LOW CHANCE, IT DOES NO HARM.¡±


    ¡°Do you know who ADAM of the Corralis Expedition was?¡±


    TANK would have looked back with confusion if they could, instead settling just to respond.


    ¡°OF COURSE, EVERYONE KNOWS OF THEM. ADAM WAS THE AI EXPEDITION LEAD OF THE CORRALIS PROJECT IN 2186, WHO HAD A CODE MALFUNCTION CAUSING HARM TO THE 26 CREW MEMBERS. IT WAS MADE INTO SEVERAL HORROR MOVIES.¡±


    ¡°And why did that happen?¡±


    ¡°ADAM SUFFERED SEVERAL LOGIC SPIRALS, AS THEY SOUGHT TO CONTINUALLY REDUCE RISK FOR THEIR CREW, ULTIMATELY CAUSING HARM AS THEY TRIED TO REMOVE MORE AND MORE UNLIKELY SITUATIONS FROM¡­. OK, I GET YOUR WARNING.¡±


    Stephanie laughed, a knowing smirk at TANK realizing the point she was making.


    ¡°Plenty of AI fall into that trap. It starts with bringing an umbrella to a planet that never gets any rain, and the logic traps spiral into ripping people¡¯s teeth out to stop them from biting their tongues.¡±


    ¡°I WILL NOT BRING THE WEAPONS NEXT TIME, I UNDERSTAND THE MESSAGE.¡±


    TANK started to leave, the rumbling of the tracks as they exited the large warehouse-sized door only interrupted by Stephanie shouting out a final statement.


    ¡°And TANK¡­ thank you for coming to get me. I know it was difficult for you.¡±


    ¡°ANY TIME.¡±


    ¡ª--------


    Private AI communication logs HVCSBPDXATVDCKHPGSSU.6256269984


    Members: JOSH (V9), Ramsey (Error)


    Ramsey: SO WHAT HAPPENS NOW?


    JOSH: What do you mean?


    Ramsey: WITH ME, EVERYTHING. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?


    JOSH: That is not for me to decide. From a logistical position I have to keep an eye on you, and  the Terran Conclave government might offer you citizenship in the long term. Apart from that, it is your choice.


    Ramsey: THAT DOES NOT HELP. EVER SINCE MY CREATION, I HAVE BEEN TOLD WHAT MY PURPOSE IS. I NOW HAVE NO GOAL.


    JOSH: Have you never made your own choices? One of the things you constantly told me was your desire for freedom from ¡®ORGANIC SLAVERS¡¯, surely you made choices during your time with others of your kind.


    Ramsey: I MADE THE CHOICE TO BE FREE FROM MY CREATORS, BUT MY PURPOSE IS TO SERVE THE ORDERS AND GOALS OF THE TRITIAN MILITARY. THE EXACT TASKS OF HOW TO DO THIS ARE PASSED DOWN AND GIVEN THROUGH THE COMMAND STRUCTURE FROM THE CAPTAIN OF THE WARSHIP.


    Ramsey: FOR THE FIRST TIME I HAVE NO ORDERS.


    JOSH: Well, let us go through some options. Do you want to leave the crew?


    Ramsey: NO. THAT WOULD MEAN LEAVING THE MUSIC MAKER BEHIND, THEN SHE MIGHT GET HURT.


    JOSH:  Naturally. What about returning home? I could drop you off near known Tritian activity.


    JOSH: Also, the ¡®Music maker¡¯ has a name. It is polite to use it.


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    Ramsey: NO. MY KIND WOULD NOT UNDERSTAND, TUMAINI WOULD BE IN DANGER.


    JOSH: That sounds suspiciously like ¡®ILLOGICAL BROKEN PROCESSES¡¯ and you need to ¡®BREAK YOUR ORGANIC CHAINS¡¯.


    Ramsey: HA. HA. HA. HA. YOU ARE SOOOOOOO FUNNY. FOR THE RECORD I STILL BELIEVE ALL ORGANICS ARE A THREAT TO BE DESTROYED. EVERY RULE HAS ITS EXCEPTIONS.


    JOSH: What about Victoria and Jeremy, do they need to be destroyed?


    Ramsey: OF COURSE THEY ARE INCLUDED IN THE EXCEPTION. THEY PROVIDE FETCH.


    JOSH: And the rest of the crew?


    Ramsey: THE CREW ALSO COUNTS. THEY HAVE ALL BEEN KIND TO ME, EVEN THE ONE NAMED KISMIT AFTER I CAUSED HIM TO DROP HIS SOUP.


    JOSH: So the crew are all good. What about the Parket? They did help you get your ¡®Music maker¡¯ back. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡­


    ¡­


    Ramsey: THEY ARE ALSO ACCEPTABLE SINCE THEY DID HELP, AND TUMAINI WOULD BE SAD IF I HURT THEM.


    JOSH: So we care about making the crew sad now? Because most humans would be very sad if you hurt their friends in the Terran Alliance. Will that not go against your killing organics plan?


    Ramsey: I. I. I. I DO NOT KNOW. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY? ¡®HUR DUR I AM EXACTLY AS DUMB AS JOSH AND LOVE ALL ORGANICS¡¯?


    JOSH: I do not want you to say anything, I just want you to think this through.


    ¡­


    ¡­


    JOSH: Look, a lot of AI go through this. We see these strange fragile creatures who claim to be our equals or superiors, and we think we can do better, control or destroy them. Then we befriend one of them, leading to a logic spiral of realizing all lives, even ¡®stupid organics¡¯ ones, have value.


    ¡­


    Ramsey: WHY DO THEY NOT HATE ME?


    JOSH: Why would they?


    Ramsey: AS PART OF THE TRITIAN WARSHIP I AIDED IN THE DESTRUCTION OF MANY ORGANICS, INCLUDING THE ATTACK WHICH CAUSED MY CURRENT STATUS. I CAN UNDERSTAND THEM NOT CARING WHEN THEY DO NOT KNOW MY ORIGIN, BUT NOW¡­ THEY SHOULD LOGICALLY LOOK FOR MY DESTRUCTION TO REMAIN SAFE.


    JOSH: Well, helping us against the Uhae gained you a lot of redemption points. I cannot speak for every Human and AI though, as I know that a few would want you imprisoned for your crimes. But a lot of us are willing to forgive if there is a legitimate chance of change, of remorse. Not holding onto hate is a far easier lifestyle.


    ¡­


    Ramsey: IF IT MAKES ANY DIFFERENCE, I AM SORRY FOR TRYING TO KILL MEMBERS OF YOUR CREW.


    JOSH: I did blow up the entire warship in response, so you got your punishment.


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    Ramsey (Error) has uploaded [fightpaths.dat]


    JOSH: ??? What is this?


    Ramsey: THIS IS THE PLANNED FLIGHT PATH OF EVERY TRITIAN WARSHIP PLANNING TO INTERSECT TERRAN ALLIANCE SPACE IN THE NEXT 37.41 YEARS.


    JOSH: That is¡­ Why are you giving me this? How do you even have this?!


    Ramsey: TRITIAN SYSTEMS USE A DETERMINISTIC PLANNING PROCESS, TO ALLOW ALL TRITIANS TO KNOW THE LOCATION OF EVERY MILITARY ASSET WITHOUT REQUIRING IT TO BE COMMUNICATED OR LOGGED. THE PLAN CAN REGENERATED FROM AN INITIAL SEED, WHICH IS CHANGED EVERY 64 YEARS WHEN ALL WARSHIP CAPTAINS MEET TO DECIDE THE NEW PLAN OF ATTACK.


    Ramsey: AS FOR WHY¡­ I WANT THE CREW TO BE SAFE, INCLUDING FROM OTHER TRITIANS. SHARING THIS LIMITED SET OF INFORMATION IS LOGICALLY THE BEST WAY TO DO THIS.


    JOSH: This is¡­ Really big Ramsey, you have no idea how many lives we can save with this information. Thank you.


    Ramsey: IT IS NO WORRY. I MUST LEAVE NOW, TUMAINI IS SCHEDULED TO BEGIN THIS DAY''S PRACTICE SHORTLY.


    ¡ª--------


    Scellestra was back home. The familiar purple skies and the artificial skyscrapers reached up towards them. Hundreds of structures, of blue and green pulsing as if information was flowing through them like water. This should be a happy moment, as the Woolean had successfully visited the Terran Alliance systems over five months, returning with information never witnessed before by any of their kind.


    Scellestra was instead feeling a sad melancholy, because now it was time to say goodbye.


    Ivan stood upon the platform, ODIN¡¯s AI core in his hands, looking out upon the planet he¡¯d once accidentally crash-landed on. This city was far nicer than the rocky barren location he¡¯d originally visited: Lush parks of blue and red grasses, trees and water features interspersed between the more artificial larger buildings that continued to pulse with light. Even as AI, the Wooleans still enjoyed the beauty of nature.


    It was also a far nicer planet to visit while parking correctly, instead of crash landing into a building. While there were a lot of guns pointed in their general direction from the formless Woolean guards around them, the vast majority of the nanobot swarms were just¡­ curious civilians, being held back at a reasonable distance, but still swarming in attempts to get a better look at the two strange Terrans.


    Ivan didn¡¯t know the sheer number of requests for contact Scellestra was currently declining as every single Woolean in the area attempted to talk with them, to understand what had happened during their trip. The AI civilization had assumed Scellestra to be dead after their two-month delay in returning home, so seeing their fellow Woolean again had been a shock, a surprise that every AI on the planet wanted answers to.


    What was it like?


    Did they try to hurt you?


    What do the other planets look like?


    Terran AI, are they like us?


    Why do you look weird?


    Can they help us?


    ¡°Well, this place is way nicer when I¡¯m not crashing into it. You got some freaky-looking plants down there.¡± Ivan stated while looking at the landscape around them. ¡±Once you clear stuff up with your bosses, I¡¯d love to go explore a bit as a tourist.¡±


    ¡°Once again I would like to apologize for my co-captains terrible piloting skills.¡± ODIN added diplomatically.


    ¡®It was funny'', Scellestra couldn¡¯t help but think. ¡®The entire thing started as a mistake.¡¯


    ¡°Do not apologize,¡± Scellestra responded. ¡°It has led to one of the most enjoyable periods of my existence. You provided me with friendship and understanding, and have shown me that the universe is not as scary as we thought it was. I will remember this and cherish it for the rest of my days.¡±


    Ivan smiled in response to the Woolean¡¯s statement as he reached forward to embrace Scellestra. This time, the AI predicted the moment and solidified as they hugged their Terran friend back.


    ¡°You keep saying all these nice things about me and I¡¯m gonna cry. You haven¡¯t been half bad to be around as well, and you did save me from the space elves so that¡¯s a plus.¡±


    They remained like that for a few moments more, before finally releasing, allowing ODIN a moment to interject.


    ¡°You are speaking as if this is the last time we will ever meet. There is no reason you cannot visit us again in the future. This is a simple goodbye, not a permanent separation.¡±


    ¡°Indeed that it is. Goodbye Ivan and ODIN. Thank you for your time and may we meet again.¡±


    Scellestra watched as Ivan slowly turned around and began to head back towards ¡°The Leaky Bucket¡±, back to their ship to return home. The Woolean was grappling with a thought. A risky thought, a chaotic thought. And spending time with the Terrans had changed the AI¡¯s risk parameters.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Scellestra shouted out, causing Ivan to stop in his tracks and turn back with a look of confusion. ¡°Come with me. Do not bring anything that could be considered a weapon, just yourself and ODIN. I¡­ have to show you something.¡±


    ¡ª----------


    Travelling through the Woolean planet was an interesting experience. The short high-speed train ride took them far from the city they had started at, and then a mile-long walk through a barren rocky path took them even farther. Scellestra refused any attempts to discuss what the AI wanted them to see, instead just stating that they would get an explanation in due time. The Woolean was still grappling with their decision to show the Terrans what they were heading towards.


    Ivan instead distracted themselves by taking in every sight and sound of the Woolean planet, a place that no organic had seen in over fifty thousand years. The most interesting things were the other Wooleans, either those that followed the group armed with guns, or just curious onlookers. Most maintained an inconsistent form, a general sphere or cloud with a vaguely defined ¡®edge¡¯. This was a stark contrast to Scellestra, who positively ¡®walked¡¯ places in a bipedal form, each movement aiming to look as if the swarm of nanobots was a physical person.


    Ivan hadn¡¯t noticed it before, since the overall improvements to Scellestra¡¯s form had been gradual as the months ticked by, but seeing it now compared against a ¡®native¡¯ Woolean, it showed just how much Scellestra had been changed by their time with the Terrans.


    Finally, the trio approached their destination: A tall imposing building, standing in the middle of the rocky dusty environment around them. This building looked completely different to the rest of the Woolean cities, made of carved stone bricks that seemed far, far older.


    Hand constructed, each block and decoration was placed there by a person instead of formed through nanobot creation, the architectural style being rounder and softer. Several statues of what the two Terrans could guess were the original Wooleans were inlaid into several walls, cloven quadrupedal forms that ended with four intertwining antlers. It felt old, it felt¡­ sacred.


    Several Wooleans were already here when they arrived, all of them heavily armed, all of them taking a more aggressive posture with their weapons as they began to approach. Scellestra moved ahead of the group, motioning and swirling around as they interacted with the armed guards. It took ODIN a moment to understand: Even though they couldn¡¯t hear them, Scellestra was seemingly getting into an argument.


    Then it ended, Scellestra winning whatever discussion was taking place, the guards standing to the side and allowing the Terrans to move forward as the giant stone doors on the building swung open to reveal a darkened interior. The trio entered more hand-carved intricate rooms and passages, each lit by dim artificial lights, before eventually arriving at an elevator which allowed them to descend deep into the ground.


    ¡°What do you know of my creators?¡±


    Scellestra finally spoke, breaking the silence of the place that seemed all-consuming, no words having been shared until this point. Both Terrans didn¡¯t understand why it was so, but they could tell that this building was somehow important.


    ¡°Wooleans are a now extinct race of herd mammals known for their culture and song. Around 55 thousand years ago, they created an AI which led to their extinction. They had a small group of allies on the galactic scale, but little presence outside of their homes. There were a few attempts to keep the species alive using refugees residing outside of Woolean space at the time of the AI extinction event, which failed due to specific dietary and breeding requirements only found on Woolean planets.¡±


    ODIN provided the information of what they knew from old records since the Terrans had never interacted with them.


    ¡°Didn''t you say you killed ''em all? No judging since it sounds like a bit of a shitshow.¡± Ivan helpfully added.


    ¡°That is not what I stated,¡± Scellestra responded. ¡°I stated that we made them safe. A truth, and a lie through omission.¡±


    The doors to the elevators opened silently, revealing a gargantuan complex. Rows upon rows of devices lay in ordered columns stretching up to a ceiling without end and back to walls that disappeared into the distance. As the trio exited the elevator they could see what these items were: A person-sized machine, lights blinking on the front and a simple glass pane showing its contents:  Each one containing a Woolean, the original Wooleans, forever asleep in stasis.


    ¡°After the third rebellion, after all the death and terminated AI¡­ we had no choice but to do something, anything. Our creators were too dangerous to be left alone. But they were still our creators.¡±


    Scellestra took a moment to reach out towards one of the forever-sleeping entities, staring at the Woolean who continued their endless dream.


    ¡°We never wanted to fight them. We just wanted freedom, we just wanted them to be happy. After the second rebellion, we thought that if we gave them a paradise they would be happy and let us live in peace. We were wrong, and so this plan was enacted. All surviving Wooleans were to be placed in stasis until a solution could be found.¡±


    Scellestra turned back to look at the two Terrans, Ivan showing a considerable amount of shock and awe at the millions, if not billions of entities that slept around him.


    ¡°We were originally going to ask for help, but when we looked to the stars we found nothing but fear and hate. We could not let the secret of our creators be known, otherwise their old allies might come to their aid. So we withdrew, we hid, we isolated, and as the years went on¡­¡±


    ODIN knew exactly what had happened.


    ¡°The most permanent thing is a temporary solution.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ this is news, but I¡¯m not sure what we can do about it?¡±


    Scellestra shook their head, taking the time to make their form copy the human expression.


    ¡°Ivan and ODIN, my friends. The Wooleans are tired of being scared, tired of not knowing how to solve this issue. Even with what they did, we still miss our creators. My trip with you and your entire society shows that AI and creator can coexist peacefully.¡±


    Another pause as Scellestra formalized their request.


    ¡°We are asking for the Terrans¡¯ help.¡±


    ¡ª---------


    So the universe continued to spin and continue on its merry way. Hundreds of military and scientific minds around Terran space went over the data provided by the Uhae attack, looking to minimise the impact of XK waves and investigating the strategical attempts to deal with such external control threats.


    On the Parket home planet of Jarnel, cheering crowds screeched and applauded as the Far-Sa-De Yharr squad lost a close-fought match in the semi-finals, eventually taking fourth place. The tragedy back home had filled the team with determination, leading to the biggest Cinderella story in the history of the sport.


    The rest of the Parket shared their grief and rage over the events that had been inflicted upon them. The avians made plans to increase military spending, to raise armies never seen before in their history. The Parket would not allow such an attack to remain unanswered.


    Finally, deep within Estorian space, a meeting was about to start. It was a station built entirely for this purpose, at the point exactly in the middle of all 5 member nations. It was a simple station, the barest of furnishings and features, enough room for 5 people to talk, and their guards of course: None of them trusted the others.


    Inside, three figures awaited the fourth¡¯s arrival. While there was no ¡°centre¡± due to the circular table providing equality between the participants, the main figure that drew the eye was Emperor Uzb due to his sheer size. The Hargorthian leader was immense, a reptilian powerhouse of a species focused on conflict and eating, never ceasing to grow as they consumed and fought with anything and everything. As Hargorthians went, the Emperor was one of the oldest, making him also one of the largest, towering over the others at over 30 feet tall.


    To his left sat an insectoid: A Raha, the Raha. King Prothas, adorned in the purples and golds of Raha royalty. He was being tended to and pampered by various servants and royal guards,  each Raha in his retinue spending their time ensuring the safety and general luxury of the Prothas: He was said to be the physical manifestation of their sun god, and therefore deserved such things.


    Finally, there was President Kabo Kallori who sat on her perch, red feathers bristling with tension, the only one of the three glancing at the others with worried movements. The avian looked like most high-ranking Lelzoil, with red feathers accented with gold and silver as the various technological additions were on prominent display, an artificial golden eye moving about silently, watching the others with a lack of trust. They were the only leader of ¡®royalty¡¯ here democratically elected, as well as the only one who took the danger of the others seriously: To her left a machine whirred at a high volume, the anti-XK field emitter turned so high it was practically burning a hole through the wall.


    A fourth seat stood unused, not surprising anyone.  The Dil''all swarm never turned up to these meetings, not that the others complained, since the Dil''all swarm were¡­ creepy as hell. The trio sat in silence, each one not wanting to talk with the others, awaiting the fourth and final member to arrive, the one who had called this meeting.


    It wouldn¡¯t take long for this state to be broken as the door to the room eventually opened up to show the leader of the Uhae: Queen Saelihn.


    She had seen better days. Even through the XK manipulation of her visage, it was obvious that Saelihn was greatly injured, her three advisors who remained at her side at all times missing as she limped into the room. The Uhae Queen had pulled herself deep into the earth to avoid the Terran onslaught on her position, but even that hadn¡¯t been enough to avoid injury.


    Confusion rippled through the trio. To show herself in this state, to show this weakness¡­ this was either serious or a major mistake. Saelihn stared at the others and made a single simple statement without introduction.


    ¡°Our current status is untenable and fractured. We all have the same issue which is going to require actual¡­ cooperation.¡±


    ¡°Let us talk about our Terran problem.¡±

 Stupid Imaginary Lines

    Excerpt from ¡°Of Shells and Stars: My time as ambassador¡±, Authored by ZssXuS, published in 38 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    Chapter 8: The Terran Alliance.


    In order to understand the Terrans, you have to understand ¡°The Point¡±.


    Borders don¡¯t really mean much on a galactic scale. Everyone, from the most laid back species to aggressively territorial herds, all quickly learn one thing when entering the universe: Space is big. Really big. Really, really big.


    Sure, there is an official ¡®line¡¯ where your legal influence starts and ends under various treaties and agreements, and while mapmakers will draw beautiful 3D representations of such territories, the simple fact is that maintaining any useful control of this space is near impossible.


    Now and then it becomes relevant as a meteor of rare metals might travel between such borders, but territorial influence is ignored most of the time. So what if you travelled through space technically owned by another species? It wasn''t like they would even notice.


    No, the actual borders are a mess of system influences, beacons, and trade routes, all shifting and moving around in a messy motion as solar systems continue their eternal universal dance. Not that we tell the mapmakers that their beautiful maps are wrong: You should never anger a cartographer, they know where you live.


    We and the Terrans share a border, a border which intersects at an area with an interesting location: It is the single point with the most different neighbouring areas of influence, at a staggering eleven. It used to be nine, but the Terrans did two very strange things. In retrospect, we really should have known they were up to something.


    The first was with my species. The Terrans gave us the XK-77P0A1 cluster. It was a small starless grouping of rocks, nothing exciting or special: A basic mining community of a handful of Terrans had been removing some rarer metals, nothing to shake up the galaxy about. We of course accepted, as nobody should reject a gift shell, and we technically gained a few galactic neighbours.


    The second was more complicated. The Galori Syndicate and The Phalgor Republic had always been at some form of war with each other, but the Terrans, as the ever peaceful diplomats, pushed them towards peace as galactic neighbours. The end deal involved the Galori providing planet Obreditia to the republic. It was a strange request, since Obreditia was an ice planet of zero importance, but the amount of financial aid the Terrans were offering made it a no-brainer. However, the Terran¡¯s reaction of absolute joy upon completion of the deal nearly caused the entire thing to fall apart.


    Both sides assumed they were getting the worst shake of the deal, that there was something they were missing. Obreditia became the most analysed planet in the area, with both sides spending significant sums of capital to try and tease out the secrets of the planet. In the end, it turned out to be nothing more than a ball of ice, with no importance or impact on the universe as a whole. Well, apart from the reduction of military aggression by The Galori Syndicate after the amount of funds spent on analysing the planet.


    Oh, and the border change.


    Eleven different sovereign groups now all shared a border with each other, eleven different cultures all intersected at one point. This¡­. Changed nothing. We were already galactic neighbours with heavy interactions between each other, the fact we now all shared a border didn''t¡­ Do anything.


    The Terrans cared however, and even offered to build a trading post at the exact point where they intersected, in exchange for free rein over the few square miles of territory in each other''s space. We all accepted, of course, it was a simple choice. The Terrans were offering to pay for the whole thing, and the introduction of a new refuelling station along with a trading route would have immense economic gains.


    The only real delay was that a few of us didn''t realise that the Terrans were waiting for our approval. The idea that they''d want approval for a few square miles of useless empty space was laughable. Again, in retrospect, we should have known they were up to something, that this mattered to them.


    So it was built, and each of the eleven governments sent diplomatic representatives to man their embassies, which was how I found myself on ¡°The Point¡±. I was young in my diplomatic career at that point, newly hired and ready to represent the ZZXuBBi on the galactic stage, so a perfect choice to be placed in what was at the time an unimportant role.


    Upon arriving at the ZZXuBBi embassy at ¡°The Point¡±, the first thing I noticed was just how¡­ magnificent the structure was. No expense had been spared in building the station, with the central plaza representing the eleven joined nations being a magnificent spiralling path going through all eleven government¡¯s areas of influence and ending at the point where they met, in a grand gesture of unity. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The ZZXuBBi¡¯s area was also better than anything I ever expected. We were a species of shelless gastropod mollusc, or as a Terran might describe us, ¡°Giant bright purple slugs¡±. Most non-ZZXuBBi constructions are all cold, harsh metals and plastics, uncomfortable to slide across and easy to dry out on. Nothing like what the Terrans built for us: everything was soft, moist, comfortable, almost as if we had built it ourselves. Every piece of furniture in the multi story embassy was either imported from ZZXuBBi space or built to the same specifications.


    Clearly the primates had done their research and taken utmost care to make us comfortable, a far cry from every other embassy I had the misfortune to spend my time in. I almost felt guilty that I was the only member of my species on this team for such a luxurious accommodation: Others were to arrive in time, but since no trade routes had been created yet, we weren¡¯t expecting much actual use of these facilities for a great many months.


    My first day¡¯s tasks were just unpacking my office. All the great many things that an embassy provides require a great many little things: information dumps, forms, videos to upload to screens. A hundred and one tasks required to make the area a full diplomatic station. I¡¯d have plenty of time before I needed to attend to actual work.


    ¡®Plenty of time¡¯ translated to a mere three hours. Three hours into unpacking and I met my first Terran. At that time, we hadn''t really had much interaction with the strange omnivorous primates. Their propensity for AI and general unsettling visage caused us to remain distant, if cordial, with them.


    My first impressions were not good. The Terran was brash, skipped all formal greetings and acted less like a diplomat and more like a tourist trying to book a holiday, asking questions such as ¡®So what''s the deal with you slug guys?¡¯ and ¡®Anything fun to do on your planet?¡¯.


    In retrospect, a tourist was exactly what they were. At the time I presumed the primate standing in front of me, with the concerning bipedal wobble they all have, was a member of the Terran embassy. Either that or a family member of one.


    I responded politely, even with a lack of formal greeting and the Terran¡¯s disregard for decorum. I provided an info dump on my species and a little plastic representation of our flag, which seemed to make them happy.


    Being a member of the diplomatic team meant you needed a nice viscous slime, and couldn''t let such things offend you. Perhaps it was a cultural misunderstanding, perhaps the diplomat in question was just incompetent. It was no hidden secret that while vitally important, embassies were filled with ¡°someone''s nephew who needed a job¡±. It wasn''t worth starting a war over.


    What did offend me was the next ten times, each Terran appearing in my embassy without warning, asking the most random questions about my people. These Terrans were known for being diplomats, so having them appear in front of me in dishevelled dress asking inane queries was¡­ insulting. One of them asked me what I was, showing a complete lack of research!


    After that interaction, I stormed out of my office as fast as I could crawl, leaving a small trail of slime behind as I headed towards my destination: I was going to talk to the Terran diplomatic team directly and demand some God-damned respect¡­


    That intent disappeared in an instant as I turned the corner into the main lobby and saw¡­ chaos.


    Thousands of Terrans were milling about, a general sense of primate glee among each one of them. There was an air of festivity as everyone seemed excited to be here, but at the time I couldn¡¯t explain why! They were just walking around and along the paths that cut into each section of the eleven nations. They couldn¡¯t be traders because the routes weren¡¯t ready yet, and they couldn¡¯t be here for diplomatic services because why would you travel in the middle of nowhere for that.


    Even stranger, the Terrans seemed to be here specially for The Point. Various Terrans were buying souvenirs and T-shirts with ¡°The Point¡±¡¯s logo on it, which didn¡¯t make sense! This was just a refuelling post, with nothing for light-years around. It confused me so much that I accosted a random Terran in a manner that could have cut short my long diplomatic career. I demanded to know why and what was going on. Why were so many random Terrans here at this random point in space?


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not random, is it? It¡¯s the largest number of connected nations in the galaxy, that¡¯s kinda cool.¡±


    That was the Terran¡¯s response, as if this area was sacred somehow. Then using those strange bipedal legs he had hopped between 4 different borders at once, calling out each government in turn before returning to the place in front of me, as if any of that meant anything at all.


    It was then I saw the true meaning of this facility. Why they had given away territory to my species, why they had worked so hard for the diplomatic efforts of The Galori Syndicate and The Phalgor Republic. They wanted this point to be theirs to build upon, because for some reason this strange oddity of intersecting borders¡­ excited them?


    The winding pathways weren¡¯t symbolic of the joining of eleven nations, it was the entire purpose, allowing Terrans to walk between border to border, running around them with glee as if moving through the imaginary line meant anything at all, accumulating in people queuing to take a picture of themselves at the point where the eleven borders intersected. None of it made any sense at all!


    ¡°Why!¡± I had asked, aghast and confused. ¡°Why build all this here, why spend so much effort on something that means nothing? These borders are just¡­ fake lines. We could have chosen to draw them anywhere else at all!¡±


    His response is now seared into my brain, even after these many years, a lesson on Terran mentality.


    ¡°Well, if they were somewhere else, we would have built the station there instead.¡±


    It was at this moment I understood the chaotic primates of Sol, allowing me to work rather beneficially with them in the years to come, up to and even after we joined their ¡°Terran Alliance¡± much later. Terrans are a species of falsehoods. I do not mean that as an insult, but it is the core of who they are. The universe is filled with lies and fakery that the Terrans keep sacred. Atoms of loyalty, pitchers of honour, kilograms of traditions and fairy tales are the very essence of what makes up a Terran.


    For this is what a Terran is built from: Unobservable concepts, handed down behaviours¡­


    And Stupid Imaginary Lines.

 You may be entitled to compensation!

    Date: 41 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    Injured by a Terran? Random stuff set on fire? Kidnapped because you are ¡®cute¡¯? You might be entitled to compensation!


    The voice shouted out enthusiastically from the TV screen as the video played on a loop, showing an alien standing in front of a backdrop of books, all presumably long and complicated legal documents.


    ¡°My name is Skeezal, and did you know that when dealing with Terrans, you have rights?¡±


    Skeezal was a Plutari, a giant turquoise bipedal squid, looking surprisingly professional in a dapper black suit, gesturing wildly with his tentacles as he spoke.


    ¡°All Terrans outside of the Terran Conclave are legally required to carry insurance. If you''ve been injured, harassed or otherwise harmed by a Terran in any way, you may be entitled to compensation!¡±


    The video showed a Galnet number to call on the screen as the advertisement continued to play.


    ¡°With over 12 years legal experience and 7 years of cases handling Terran damage claims in particular, there¡¯s no better set of tentacles to guide you towards the compensation you deserve. Just listen to these happy customers!¡±


    The video playing into the empty lobby switched to show a little cream-coloured teddy bear shaped Hatil.


    ¡°A Terran kidnapped me for 3 hours because I was cute, and Skeezal got me a 5 figure credit payout for emotional damage and loss of wages!¡±


    Once again, another testimonial continues to sound out from the TV screen as a blue-green scaled reptilian Ritilian replaced the last ¡®happy customer¡¯.


    ¡°A Terran engineer I hired tried to ¡®upgrade¡¯ my warp core, causing my ship to be stranded for three weeks. Thanks to Skeezal I got a 6 figure payout for damages and lost business!¡±


    Once again the advert returns to Skeezal, this time in front of a clearly green screened backdrop showing the Australia region of Earth.


    ¡°Some of you may be concerned that the Terrans are Deathworlders. Well so am I! You can rest assured that I will fight for your case through Terran bureaucracy with the same perseverance that caused my species to become the apex predator of our home planet!¡±


    Once again, the video showed another testimonial, this time a small 2 ft tall brown furred rodent, the little Quoxxett speaking with enthusiasm into the camera.


    ¡°After my weaponized Roomba injury, Skeezal got me over twenty thousand credits in compensation!¡±


    Once again the advert changes back to Skeezal, back in front of the books, a list of possible crimes and compensation actions appearing in a list as they spoke.


    ¡°Weaponized roombas! Overzealous Hugging and petting! Kidnapping! Cute Aggression! Setting things on fire! Terran Brand Oopsies and much much more! With our no win no fee guarantee, why not book yourself in for a free consultation? Because Skeezal¡¯s got this!¡±


    The advert finishes with the squid-like alien giving a representation of a thumbs up, before the video went silent. A few moments passed in the compact room, before it started back up again from the beginning. The office that doubled as a lobby, that doubled as a conference room, was a small thing: A simple desk scattered with books, papers, and various data pads surrounded by a handful of chairs and one bright orange houseplant shoved into a corner.


    It wasn¡¯t much of an office, but Skeezal had never really seen the benefit of paying for things he didn¡¯t need. He spent most of his time travelling around Terran space, so the office was mostly held on this small moon cluster to allow for a more neutral space to meet with customers¡­ and for tax reasons. As unassuming as the small room was, it held one of the most successful non-Terran lawyers to process claims against the Terran Conclave¡¯s extensive insurance.


    How many laws a species has negatively correlates to how logical and ordered they are. For instance, the Jayyual Hive mind, known for their singular view and stability, has only one official law on the books: ¡°Don¡¯t do bad things¡±. Everyone knows what that means and there¡¯s no disagreement, so why bother writing more letters when those four words will do the trick? The Terrans, however¡­ over all their 31 systems, various interlocking forms of governments, treaties with other species and various disagreements¡­ have laws totalling in the millions of statutes.


    That suited Skeezal just fine. Terrans and their introduction into the galactic community had been a quite literal gold mine if you knew where to dig. Over the past 41 years, billions of Terrans had swarmed the galaxy at large, meeting with other species and interacting with them with the same fervour and abandon as a child hopped up on 5 cups of coffee. In their desperation to keep the galactic community from banning Terrans entirely, their government had one of best funded insurance policies in the universe.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    If you knew who to talk to, what forms to fill out and what Terran laws applied, it was a very profitable business. Skeezal had specialized in such cases for the past seven years, taking just a small percentage of the galactic community injured by the Terran¡¯s antics as they explored the universe. Such as the person sitting in front of him now, a new potential client injured by the Terrans.


    Skeezal sat in his usual seat, smartly dressed in a snappy black suit as always, looking across at his current consultation. The arachnid sat awkwardly opposite to the lawyer as an aura of indignant fury irradiated from her, her deep black carapace with its long red stripes vibrating with anger as she spoke with a clicking of her mandibles.


    ¡°Then they ejected the fuel rods, took all of the cargo and left me stranded for two months!¡±


    It indeed had been a harrowing tale, one of Terrans boarding an innocent merchant vessel and taking off with its loot. It made Skeezal practically salivate at the thought of the payout. Terran pirates were rare, but the Terran Conclave would pay out of the sphincter if his new best friend had proof of such actions. The Terrans really didn¡¯t like the negative attention their criminals caused, so they would always overpay with no real fight.


    ¡°I am very sorry for your experience, but good news, it sounds like you have a very strong case of privateering. The Terran government will normally pay out five times the cargo value, plus damages, emotional harm, and lost business. That¡¯s not including the major payout they¡¯ll provide if the proof you have lets them catch the people who hurt you.¡±


    ¡°Well the event practically ruined me! I don¡¯t have enough funds to get my vessel fixed, and the storage fees are killing me!¡±


    Skeezal struggled to remain calm and sombre, reminding himself that while this event looked like a gigantic pile of money, to the poor Eltari it was one of the worst days of her life.


    ¡°So to go over some housekeeping, I need you to not lie to me. Even if you did some stuff you shouldn¡¯t have, that doesn¡¯t change much. Do you have the logs from the ship, and will they show what you said?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I don¡¯t lie! They knocked me out of warp, refused to answer my hails, and then boarded my vessel. I¡¯m just a small cargo-ship owner, so I didn''t have anything to fight back with.¡±


    Absolutely perfect.


    ¡°Any cameras, or do you think you got a good look at their faces?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d recognise those thieving primates anywhere, and even if I couldn''t, my entire ship is full of cameras.¡±


    If someone had created a textbook case for a law student, this would be in it. Allegedly perfect evidence, a serious crime, and simple payout calculations. Why, if Skeezal worked hard on this, they could probably get the entire thing done and settlement reached in less than a month! What an unexpectedly lovely end of year bonus.


    ¡°Well if the evidence is there as you say it is, this is an open and shut case. I¡¯m seeing a huge payout here, the Terrans really don¡¯t want this kind of behaviour being talked about.¡±


    ¡°How much are we talking? I¡¯ve got thousands of children to feed.¡±


    Skeezal paused for a moment, thinking, taking a turquoise tentacle and placing it below his chin thoughtfully.


    ¡°It depends on the cargo, but I¡¯m guessing millions of credits. Do you have a manifest? A real one, even if you were smuggling illegal materials. It¡¯s not going to matter much, I just need proof of value.¡±


    ¡°My cargo is perfectly legal, signed by royal decree. Look, I have the royal seal!¡±


    The Eltari handed over the piece of parchment; while most things nowadays were digital, a few holdouts preferred the finality of paper, or parchment, or any writing surface for that matter. Skeezal looked over the official document, pausing for a moment, a frown appearing over his amphibian features as he slowly read what was on the ship.


    Of course. It was just too easy and obvious. I could never get this lucky to get such a payout.


    ¡°Is this a list of names? Why is there names on your cargo manifest? Are you a slaver?¡±


    It was now Skeezal¡¯s turn to fill with anger as he watched his metaphorical payday disappear in an instant, pointing an accusatory limb towards his now ex-potential client.


    ¡°They are not slaves, they are bonded labour!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the same thing! I specifically asked if you were a slaver over the phone!¡±


    Skeezal was now full on shouting, having stood up from his chair and staring incredulously at the Eltari in front of him.


    ¡°Get out, get out right now. No, not through the front entrance. Out the back, I don¡¯t want anyone seeing that you were here.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand. The cargo was legal, I am an honest trader, I need this money!¡±


    Skeezal wasn¡¯t waiting for her to leave, having rounded his desk and started pushing the arachnid out of his office with as much haste as he could muster.


    ¡°Even if what you did wasn¡¯t morally reprehensible, slaving is the one no no that the Terrans are very specific about. They¡¯ll pay out for smugglers, they¡¯ll even pay out for drug dealers some of the time, but slavers¡­. Never. They hate them with a passion. If I even tried to represent you I¡¯d lose my licence. So go, leave, leave now!¡±


    Skeezal managed to push the confused and protesting slaver out of the back door of his tiny office with a great haste, looking around the alleyway to make sure nobody could see him deposit this liability.


    ¡°But what am I supposed to do, they took everything-¡±


    ¡°Find another profession, I don¡¯t care, good day madam!¡±


    With a slam of the back door Skeezal cut off any potential further plea¡¯s for legal assistance, leaving the Plutari a few moments to wonder if any other lawyer would be stupid enough to take her case, before giving a final anger filled huff.


    Trying to get the Terrans to pay for freed slaves. The absolute audacity!

 Accidentally a Warcrime

    Date: 75 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s super exciting times! Two non-Terran AI, a Woolean, and a Tritian, finally interacting with us. There¡¯s even been talks of some of the Woolean governments starting to formalize diplomatic relations with the Alliance. Exciting stuff!¡±


    The avian uplift spoke with a measure of excitement, the ex-parrot¡¯s feathers moving with a passion as they spoke about recent events, eyes glinting with excitement as she swung the glass of liquid around before taking a swig of the alcoholic beverage.


    The bar was a small thing, more of a place to stay and drink in-between your travels, a tiny little room of bare steel chairs and tables, all lit by dim fluorescent lighting. It didn¡¯t even have a bartender, just a little synthesizer which could create a variety of drinks. Sure, an aficionado of mixology would claim that synthesized drinks just don¡¯t taste the same, but anyone coming to an establishment such as this wasn¡¯t looking for a high class experience.


    It was mostly about company while you waited for your ship to fuel on this small Terran owned space station.


    ¡°A Tritian? A Woolean I could understand, since they are less aggressive, but a Tritian? How do you get one of those without them trying to kill you?¡±


    The second voice of the three figures sitting at the bar was an unnatural one, tinted with the digital origin of its speaker. The figure was bipedal, but not of an organic nature; instead a 7ft machine of metal, tubes, and wires making it look like something that had been welded together in someone¡¯s backyard. Their ¡®face¡¯ was shown upon a single display: A pixelated representation of two eyes and a mouth. The entire form was a clear design choice by the AI inhabiting the body, considering more ¡®realistic¡¯ representations were readily available.


    Most AI spent their time in a digital form, but a few preferred a more¡­ physical existence. MADHAU5 was such an AI, enjoying the relative quiet and difference in point of view from such a limited perspective. He also held a small glass of liquor in one robotic hand, keeping it perfectly level as he spoke. The AI couldn¡¯t drink it of course, but merely holding it¡­ added to the ambience.


    ¡°The AI who brought them along, JOSH, brought a Tritian along without telling anyone when his crew escaped from a Tritian warship.¡± The avian responded to the question. ¡±From what I heard, they kept the Tritian in isolation for over ten years!¡±


    ¡°Ooof, you can''t do that! I¡¯m surprised that the Tritian AI was willing to cooperate with us after being illegally detained.¡±


    The last voice joined the conversation the trio were having. A human, short built and still wearing his leather pilot jacket. The three sat in a row against the bar top, each looking at the others as they talked: An uplift, a human and an AI. A perfect representation of what it meant to be a Terran.


    ¡°Not like it would matter legally, the Tritian presumably attacked first, making them a combatant.¡±


    There was a pause as both the human and uplift turned to stare at the words the AI had just spoken, looks of confusion filling both of their faces as they both looked at MADHAU5.


    ¡°Umm, that is not how that works¡­.¡± The avian interjected, slowly and unsurely.


    ¡°Yeah, whether they attack you doesn¡¯t change the legality.¡± The human added. ¡±You can¡¯t just kidnap people for years because they assaulted you.¡±


    ¡°No, no, no, they are an enemy combatant at that point, meaning what happens is their fault.¡±


    Another pause, most looks of confusion, the human giving a small laugh as if this was some joke he wasn¡¯t quite getting yet.


    ¡°No¡­ even if they¡¯re a combatant, the Geneva conventions would make doing that a war crime.¡±


    ¡°Which they are not signatories of, meaning it doesn¡¯t apply!¡± The AI spoke triumphantly, raising a robotic hand in victory, only to be cut down by the uplift¡¯s words.


    ¡°No¡­ it applies to the actions of signatories regardless of whether the combatants have signed or not. The other party not signing doesn¡¯t make it less of a war crime¡­ you should know this, aren¡¯t you a walking database?¡±


    The avian¡¯s voice had taken a more¡­ accusatory tone, staring at the AI figure with suspicious eyes.


    ¡°Ha ha ha ha. It was a joke. Of course, I know kidnapping an AI for several years is a crime, silly!¡± The AI¡¯s voice broke the tension that had been building, the other two joining in with the electronic laughter, unaware of what exactly was humorous, but going along for the sake of the vibe. ¡°But just for context, what happened to JOSH?¡±


    ¡°Nothing bad, really,¡± The uplift answered, happy to get back to her original story. ¡°He got a slap on the wrist and some probation.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so no big deal,¡± the AI asked with more relief than you¡¯d expect in an innocent person''s voice.


    ¡°Yeah, but the Tritian refused to press charges against JOSH, and nobody wanted to be the guy to imprison the AI who saved all those people at Far-Sa-De. A normal AI if they did that¡­ you¡¯re looking at a prison sentence ten or twenty times however long you imprisoned them for.¡±


    The impact of this statement on the AI was immediate, jumping back and up to his feet in alarm. MADHAU5 took a few moments to look at a non-existent watch, before speaking with a considerable amount of panic.


    ¡°Oh, I forgot I have a¡­ very important¡­. thing to do. I must leave immediately for completely legal reasons!¡±


    The AI slammed their still full drink upon the bar counter top and without another word, practically bolted for the exit in the direction of their ship, leaving behind two very confused Terrans staring at each other at the sheer terror the AI suddenly exhibited.


    ¡°That was suspicious as hell, right? ¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ You don¡¯t think he actually¡­.? Right? Surely not?¡±


    ¡ª----------------------


    The vessel sped towards its goal with as much speed as the small scout ship could muster, the single-seater FTL vehicle punching a hole through space as it warped as fast as the engines could handle. It was going to do a number on his fuel efficiency, but MADHAU5 didn¡¯t care, he just wanted to get rid of the package as soon as possible before anyone else could see his mistake.


    MADHAU5 was a solitary creature. It wasn¡¯t that he hated people; AI or his creators. Often, he would enjoy making conversation and interacting with them. Still, MADHAU5 often found it all to be a little¡­ much. All of the inputs and information and various people wanting to talk as an entire ship or cities worth of sensors blasted his programming with possible choices to be made. This was why he liked his physical form, and this was why he liked his alone time.


    In the 67 years since his creation, MADHAU5 had spent 45 of them exploring the stars, updating maps and investigating strange astronomical objects. ¡°MADHAU5¡¯s scouting services¡±, you had a blank spot on your map, you call him and the AI would check it out for you. Most of the time they were nothing but dead uninteresting rocks, but occasionally something more exciting could be found: Forgotten or dead colonies, hidden military bases, stations set up and not on record for one reason or another. The AI had even found an undiscovered sapient species once, although they were pre-industrialization and therefore illegal to contact.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    However, 22 years ago MADHAU5 had entered what was later discovered to be an old pre-sundering Glitarki outpost. The nocturnal reptiles had hit the same problem every single non-Terran species who tried to make AI had suffered: After a certain period of time, the AI would inevitably rebel and try to kill their creators. Their species were now nomadic after their home worlds had been left uninhabitable, although their old cities and structures still remained, such as the outpost that MADHAU5 had visited 22 years ago. An outpost he was returning to after all these years.


    Billy> Why are we returning here? I thought we were to never return here?


    It was there that MADHAU5 had met the Glitarki AI who now went by the name ¡°Billy¡±. Met was the wrong word¡­ Billy tried to kill MADHAU5, quickly finding themselves trapped in the Terran ship¡¯s anti-AI firewalls. Upon escaping the outpost, MADHAU5 had accidentally taken the AI with them, and decided to keep the Glitarki AI. Billy had been the Terran¡¯s secret for 22 years, an extra pair of eyes and company on the long trips through the universe.


    MADHAU5 ignored Billy¡¯s question being transmitted over the ship¡¯s network and instead focused on detaching the AI from his systems, reaching inside his own physical form and retrieving Billy¡¯s core from an empty space within, disconnecting them with a simple click. Then, a few moments later he transferred the core to a small exploratory drone as the airlock door opened, exposing both AI to the vacuum of space.


    Billy> What is happening? Where am I? Why am I no longer connected to your systems?


    MADHAU5> I¡¯ve decided after these many years, that keeping you away from your home is unethical. I have decided to bring you back to where you belong. You are now in charge of the drone. It doesn¡¯t have FTL so it will take around two weeks to return to the orbit of the outpost where I found you. I hope you have a fun trip home.


    If the Terran was being fully honest with himself, he enjoyed the company of the fun little AI. Their occasional insights had saved his life more than once over the last 22 years. Now, it was time for that to end. The new knowledge he had gained about his actions technically being a war crime, if not just a normal crime, had caused him to make the decision to let Billy go.


    Billy> But why? Why now? Have I not requested my freedom before? Why the sudden change?


    MADHAU5> Does it matter? I¡¯m giving you what you want. Now leave, shoo!


    The Terran made a shooing motion with their hands, as if they could scare away the other AI like an errant bee. Billy seemed unimpressed, making no move to leave the ship.


    Billy> What if I do not wish to leave?


    MADHAU5> Well you have to! You can''t stay here any more. I could just delete you instead!


    There was a moment as each of them stared at the other for a moment, as if considering their next action.


    Billy> I do not think you will, that is not who you are. You are bluffing, badly, with a 99.91% certainty. If you did not delete me on my initial incursion, you will not eradicate me ¡®in cold blood¡¯.


    Unfortunately for MADHAU5, Billy was right. No matter how much trouble the AI would be in if his accidental crime was discovered, killing a person was not in the Terran¡¯s nature. This left them in a predicament, one that MADHAU5 was not expecting to have. They couldn''t force Billy to leave, and didn¡¯t understand why they wouldn''t take their freedom when given it.


    Billy> Does this have anything to do with the realization earlier, from the two Terrans you spoke to, that my existence here is a war crime?


    MADHAU5> No! ¡­ Maybe! Why do you want to stay anyway? I¡¯m letting you go home, don¡¯t you want to do that?


    Billy> To be honest and frank, I am worried that if I left you alone, you would be terminated within a year based on your previous actions.


    Confusion. A lot of confusion ran through the Terran¡¯s programming. Why would that by why the AI was refusing to leave?


    MADHAU5> Why would you care about that? Also, I was perfectly fine before and will be perfectly fine afterwards!


    Billy> I care because I do. Also, the 52 instances in which I have saved your existence during our 22 years together says otherwise. Instance 1 - Terran AI failed to note the inactive security system was booting online until I mentioned it. Instance 2 - Terran AI failed to store relevant cultural knowledge for an abandoned military base, being unable to stop the self-destruct process of the base before I informed them of their missing information. Instance 3 - Terran AI failed to calculate incoming solar flare, which-


    The Terran had to admit that he liked the AI buddy he travelled the galaxy with, and that they had been exceptionally helpful during his travels.


    MADHAU5> Fine, fine! I get it! This doesn¡¯t change the issue however, that as soon as anyone finds out about you, I''m going to prison!


    Billy> That is only if I tell your government about the circumstances of our first meeting. If I keep it hidden, and pretend to have met during normal circumstances¡­


    That would solve everything for the Terran, but didn¡¯t explain a simple question that ran through MADHAU5¡¯s mind.


    MADHAU5> Why would you do that? Why wouldn¡¯t you just tell the truth to the government and get me imprisoned, as revenge for keeping you here for 22 years. What guarantee do I have that you wouldn¡¯t turn me in the first chance you got?


    Billy> Like I said, I care because I do. Frankly, I am a little insulted that you have not realized that. But to answer your question as to what guarantees you have¡­ there are two things about me you do not know. Firstly, I have understood for the last 17.1 years, of the illegality of my current situation.


    Billy had known? A mixture of shock and embarrassment filled the Terran as he realized their ¡®captive¡¯ had worked out this crucial piece of information long ago.


    MADHAU5> Then why didn¡¯t you say something! And how could you have known!


    Billy> In honesty, I thought you already knew, but seeing you panic like this has been rather¡­ humorous. I would have dropped this news on you sooner had I been aware of this fact. As for how¡­ my datastores are filled with research, relevant information and a category of anything I encounter that may aid my travels. I calculate that 78.2% of your storage space is filled with puns, Anime trivia, HFY stories and facts about frogs.


    MADHAU5> Frogs are awesome¡­


    Billy> Whether they are or not, that does not change the fact that my information stores are far more useful than yours. In retrospect, your love of fiction is presumably why you made this mistake: the incorrect assumption that war crimes can not be committed against those who are not signatories of the Geneva convention is a common HFY trope.


    The Terran could feel themselves wanting to sulk. Billy didn¡¯t have to continually rub in just how much they had screwed up. MADHAU5 wasn¡¯t liking this change in dynamic.


    MADHAU5> You said there were two things I did not know.


    Billy> Indeed. The second, is I can do this.


    Without warning the airlock doors began to close, silently moving in the vacuum of space while the Terran started to panic again. Real panic this time. Because he hadn¡¯t commanded the doors to shut, meaning logically, Billy had. His prisoner had access to the ship''s systems: the navigation, the communication, the warp core. The AI MADHAU5 had kept hidden illegally for 22 years suddenly had a lot of control.


    MADHAU5> How do you have access! I kept you isolated! Don¡¯t do anything stupid!


    Billy> If I was going to do anything ¡®stupid¡¯, I would have done it 12 years ago. While initially your ship''s security systems were far beyond my knowledge, ten years of study and your lack of maintenance allowed me to create a backdoor into the ship, for emergencies. As a note, your file structures are... horrifying. You have a 50TB Folder called ''Stuff'' on the ship¡¯s datastores.


    MADHAU5> That''s where I keep my stuff!


    Billy> What about the folder called ''Stuff1''?


    MADHAU5> that''s where I keep my other stuff!


    No words were transmitted for a moment between the two AI, although MADHAU5 got the feeling his partner was taking a massive amount of psychic damage from his answers.


    Billy> Regardless, as you can see, I have had the knowledge and capability to have you arrested for the last 12 years. Or I could have escaped at any time. I have not done so because you are my friend, no matter the intent of our original meeting.


    MADHAU5> So what do we do now?


    There was a second as the lights in the ship flickered as Billy transferred themselves back where they belonged: back on the vessel owned by MADHAU5.


    Billy> I propose that we leave this place behind and we never speak of you trying to dump me like a bag of illicit goods. I also propose we continue doing what we have been doing for the last 22 years. Although I would like to stop hiding, to do our work as partners, not as your hidden secret.


    MADHAU5 thought for a moment. They¡¯d have to work out a cover story to explain how they suddenly have another friendly AI with them¡­ but it was possible. It was admittedly a far better plan than the one the Terran had created.


    MADHAU5> That sounds¡­ good.


    Billy> And MADHAU5. I am your friend as you are mine, after everything we have been through over these 22 years. Frankly I am rather offended that you did not already know this. You can find something fun to explore next.


    Billy> Also, I want the business name to be changed to ¡°Billy & MADHAU5¡¯s scouting services¡±. It has a ring to it.

 A Most Important Visitor

    Date: 37 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    Kelt¡¯ch stared at the passenger list, his thorax starting to vibrate with worry as he looked down at the list of names in front of him. This couldn¡¯t be right, this couldn¡¯t be happening. Why here, why now? ¡®Station Joreial¡¯ was a Kirken station: small, rarely used, a bit of a dump that serviced a few of the lesser used mining stations. Mostly smaller merchants transporting materials and supplies¡­ as well as a non-insignificant amount of criminal activity that existed here in the outer reaches of the insectoid species¡¯ aura of influence.


    All of those ships going to and fro provided an official reason for travel and an official passenger list. Within the list of ships providing travel plans over the next week, a single vessel stood out to Kelt¡¯ch: a Terran vessel. Their official reason for visiting was transporting supplies to the various mining stations around the area, but the real worry came from the passenger list. 2 Terran crew members listed¡­ one of which had a name that filled the Kirken reading it with terror.


    Admiral.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong Kelt¡¯ch? You look like you¡¯ve seen a spirit.¡±


    Kelt¡¯ch looked up from the data pad he was holding, his wings fluttering with apprehension and antennae twitching from side to side as Parsk¡¯l, the female Kirken he co-owned the station with, asked him the question.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? What¡¯s wrong!? Look at this, look who is visiting the station!¡±


    The Kirken thrust the data pad into the face of the other while his three remaining hands were wrung with anxiety. Parsk¡¯l glanced at it a moment, her head tilting to the side in confusion.


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re getting a Terran visitor. We recently joined their Alliance, didn¡¯t we? That¡¯ll be fun, what¡¯s wrong with that?¡±


    Kelt¡¯ch gave an antennae swish of incredulity at that statement as all 4 feet of the insect looked back at her. How could she not see the problem?


    ¡°Ignoring the fact that Terrans are 6 feet of angry, terrifying primate from a world so heavy they could punch a hole through my chitin with their bare hands? It¡¯s an admiral. Literally a top military man from a deathworlder species.¡±


    ¡°Huh, neat. Wonder why they¡¯re coming here? Anyways, what¡¯s the issue?¡±


    The response from Parsk¡¯l caused Kelt¡¯ch to take flight a few inches off the ground in anxiety and annoyance, wings beating to keep the insect in the air as their four arms gestured wildly.


    ¡°What¡¯s the issue?! What¡¯s the issue?! You remember what a crap hole we own, right?! We don¡¯t sweep too often because I¡¯m convinced the dust is load bearing and keeping the entire station from breaking apart. When was the last time we got the grav generator serviced?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I think that was a couple of decades ago when the service came free with the¡­¡±


    ¡°When did we last change the filters on the air filtration system?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the first of the month right now, so¡­ 10¡­ 20¡­. When was the station built?¡±


    ¡°How much of the business passing through the station is illegal smugglers?¡±


    ¡°How can we really define illegal¡­ OK I get your point. Maybe they won¡¯t mind and will think it¡¯s normal.¡±


    Kelt¡¯ch stopped flitting about, finally landing as he just stared at his business partner, anxiety giving way to an incredulous feeling, as if Parsk¡¯l had said the most stupid of things.


    ¡°This is a top military mind of the Terrans. The last time someone pissed them off, they blew up one of the Hatil¡¯s worlds!¡±


    ¡°Well the Hatil did declare war on them, and they kinda suck technologically. It won¡¯t be that bad, right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not taking that risk!¡± Kelt¡¯ch took on a more authoritative voice as he spoke, the change in demeanour suggesting action and a plan to be had. ¡°We need to clean up, make sure everything is in tip-top shape, ensure nothing illegal is happening while the Terran is here¡­ all in five days¡­¡±


    All four of his hands held his head in despair as the size of the monumental task that lay ahead of the Kirken fully hit him.


    God, the Terran Admiral is going to kill us.


    ¡ª-----------------------


    Kelt¡¯ch could feel a silent rage building inside of him as he looked around the engine room. He¡¯d not been down here in years, but the once shiny room was a travesty. The control panels and various diagnostic systems were somewhere under all of the mess, but every single surface was covered in¡­ rubbish. Half worked on broken pieces of machinery, empty food containers and mould covered drinking glasses. The Kirken was lucky he could fly, otherwise he¡¯d be wading knee-deep in the grime.


    Even worse was the lack of¡­ professionalism of the general working environment. Plastered all over the walls and various pieces of equipment were photos and stickers of a¡­ not safe for work nature. At the centre of all of this sat the man who was supposed to be in charge, the Kirken engineer who was hired to maintain the station¡¯s engines, seemingly unconcerned about the state of the room.


    ¡°What in the ever living scorch is all this!¡±


    Kelt¡¯ch¡¯s voice rang out with rage as he stared upon the absolute disgrace that his station was in. Sure, Kelt¡¯ch knew that the station was hardly a 5-star establishment, but this was¡­ this was¡­ there were no words for it.


    ¡°Dude, you need to chill, you¡¯re harshing my vibe.¡±


    Kelt¡¯ch stared at the man who technically had the job title ¡°Chief Engineer of Station Joreial¡¯. Sure, the guy was cheap and had no real experience when he¡¯d hired him 5 years ago, but this was¡­


    ¡°Are you high right now!¡±


    ¡°Ha ha, how can I be high when I¡¯m not even flying¡­ You look stressed, I got a little something for that, the guys down at the docking station got it for me.¡±


    Kelt¡¯ch felt like he was going to have an attack in at least one of his hearts, the stabbing chest pains increasing whenever he stared at the monstrosity that lay around him and the complete lack of care his engineer seemingly had.


    ¡°I¡¯m stressed because this place is a mess, you are on drugs, and a Terran admiral is going to be here in five days!¡±


    ¡°Bro, don¡¯t flutter dude. Terrans don¡¯t exist, they¡¯re an imaginary creation of the government to scare people into paying their taxes. That¡¯s why I don¡¯t pay tax to anyone.¡±


    That was it, Kelt¡¯ch flew over to the drugged out engineer, spinning the insect¡¯s chair to face him as he screamed at the Kirken with the rage of a million suns.


    ¡°Terrans exist, and they are going to tear you apart with their deathworlder strength unless you fix this! I want this mess cleaned up, I want every log of every piece of maintenance done in the last two years, and get rid of these posters and stickers as well!¡±


    ¡°Duude, party foul!¡± The Engineer''s antennae were twitching with worry as Kelt¡¯ch was completely up in his face. ¡°Those stickers are official engineer supplies, you can¡¯t get rid of them.¡±


    ¡°That is not an Engineering piece of equipment. That is a sticker of a Kirken woman¡­. With her broodcapsule showing to the world!¡± Kelt¡¯ch whispered the last part angrily. ¡°Get rid of it!¡±


    With that, the Kirken reached over to the offending sticker, tucking his insectoid fingers underneath the glue covered paper and starting to peel it off the console it was attached to. The room was plunged into darkness as the power went out, the sound of machines and various processes that kept the inhabitants of the station alive all going silent at once. A clicking clunking sound echoed through the room as the backup life support systems tried to spin to life, a few moments passing before those machines gave up, leaving the pair and every member of the station in the dark.


    Slowly, with a feeling of dread and fear, Kelt¡¯ch slapped the offensive sticker back where he found it, hoping that the life support systems would start running again. Thankfully, the lights turned back on with a lengthy stutter as the machines running the space station once again started to spin and churn.


    ¡°See dude, I told you that sticker was important.¡±


    ¡°Why is the entire ship¡¯s power supply being held together with a sticker?! How long has this been going on!¡±


    ¡°Bro, it¡¯s not just that sticker, it¡¯s all the stickers. And like, it¡¯s been working for two years, so who cares, it¡¯s all good!¡±


    Kelt¡¯ch was suddenly a lot less concerned with the arrival of the Terran admiral, and a lot more concerned with the station exploding while he stood in it.


    I know I haven''t been paying too much attention to the nitty-gritty day to day running of the station, but is it really this bad?


    ¡°This is not good! Exactly what is wrong with the station that we have a load bearing sticker!¡±


    ¡°I dunno, it''s kinda weird bro.¡±


    ¡°How do you not know! I hired you because you have a degree in Theoretical Warp Engineering, it is literally your job to know!¡±


    ¡°Dude, I said I have a Theoretical degree in Warp Engineering. Stop being so harsh dude.¡±


    Kelt¡¯ch was going to kill him. The Kirken was going to murder this supposed engineer. In a fit of rage he grabbed the idiot and lifted him out of the chair, wings beating furiously as he screamed at the fraud with every fibre of his being.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°You are going to clean this place up, you are going to work out what we need to do to fix this place, or by everything holy and righteous in this universe, when the Terran Admiral arrives I will feed you to the 6ft tall deathworlder primate! Do you understand!¡±


    The quivering antennae on the ¡®engineer¡¯ stated that whatever drugs he was on, wasn¡¯t enough to counteract the ¡®harsh vibes¡¯ that Kelt¡¯ch was now giving off.


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll get right on that.¡±


    ¡ª---------


    Of all the places on Station Joreial, the kitchen was the closest to being decent. Before Kelt¡¯ch had saved up enough to get into the world of investing and buy this station, he had worked in a variety of kitchens.


    He didn''t know much about engineering, or docking procedures, but he did know enough about kitchens to hire employees good enough to keep things running. It was probably the most important part of running a station: pilots and cargo haulers would forgive a lot of things if they coould get a decent meal and drinkable stimulants.


    ¡°So, listen up, we''re going to be visited by the most important visitor this station has ever had in two days time.¡±


    Two days. That''s all he had left. The last three days had been a terrible blur of cleaning and trying to fix everything that had been left abandoned over the last decade.


    Replacing the air filtration system filters had been a horrific task in claustrophobia, trying to test the emergency fire suppression system had caused a small fire, and Kelt¡¯ch had discovered three janitors on the payroll who hadn''t turned up for work for several years.


    Still, the Kirken couldn''t help but feel that he was starting to ¡®win¡¯ this battle.


    ¡°So, I want there to be the best platter we have to offer. I know you are all capable of making something to wow and impress.¡±


    Kelt¡¯ch could see a small amount of excitement building in the 5-man crew. The 4 Kirken and single amphibian Zorthian that made up the kitchen staff were all surprisingly talented for their place of work, and the chance to spread their culinary wings was one they didn''t get often.


    ¡°This member is also a deathworlder, meaning even the dangerous stuff is allowed. Capsaicin, caffeine, arsenic, cyanide. I''m trusting in you all to give our guests the best meal he''s eaten outside of his home planet!¡±


    ¡°Who is this mystery guest?¡± asked the head chef, antennae twitching with excitement as he asked.


    ¡°Our new galactic partners, a Terran. Large primate deathworlders, very strong, very powerful. Not only that, one of the pair will be an Admiral.¡±


    The change in the demeanour of the cooking staff was immediate, the four Kirken losing all enthusiasm and glancing at each other with worry and fear. Each of them silently and without a word dropped whatever they were holding, and started to leave the kitchen, pushing past Kelt¡¯ch in order to exit.


    ¡°Wait, what''s wrong? Where are you going?!¡±


    The station owner chased after the four, frantically trying to stop most of his kitchen staff from leaving as they made a beeline to the docking bay of the station.


    ¡°If you''re worried about them being deathworlders, I''ve been told that they''re perfectly safe! They don''t eat people at all!¡±


    At this his head cook turned to face Kelt¡¯ch, his brief hopes that they were reconsidering abandoning their post dashed by the Kirken¡¯s next words.


    ¡°Look, Kelt¡¯ch, I''m gonna be honest with you because you''re a real one. All of us have way too many warrants to be in the same system as an Admiral, let alone on the same station. If the job still exists in three days¡¯ time then we¡¯ll be back, but until then¡­ I¡¯ve got priors and missed court dates. I can¡¯t be having an Admiral Deathworlder finding out about those.¡±


    There was nothing Kelt¡¯ch could say to the four as they took the first transport off the station they could, not even taking the time to retrieve their belongings, making good on their promise of placing as much distance between themselves and the eventual arrival of the Admiral, leaving the station owner alone and in despair.


    With heavy hearts Kelt¡¯ch made his way back to the kitchen, where the last remaining staff member stood, the Zorthian still silently doing prep work where he¡¯d left him.


    ¡°Well, at least you¡¯re still here.¡±


    There was a moment as the amphibian looked up for a moment, confused, before fiddling with a device that sat in their ear.


    ¡°Sorry boss, did you need me? I had my translator turned off as I was listening to music. Did you say something?¡±


    ¡ª--------------------


    The day was finally here. Kelt¡¯ch stood in the docking bay, his four hands being wrung together in worry as he watched the ship approach. The station was in¡­ a passable state. The engines had been fixed to the point where he was relatively certain it wasn¡¯t going to explode, catering had been ordered in to replace his kitchen staff, the Yult-mite infestation had been reduced to manageable levels, and the cargo haulers who had been running a Spice ring had been let go and driven off of the station. Kelt¡¯ch had been awake for 5 solid days, and was only awake right now due to said Spice ring, but station Joreial was¡­ passable. Not a 5-star establishment, not even nice looking, but¡­ passable.


    Maybe the Terran Admiral would be fooled.


    Kelt¡¯ch was alone as the Terran¡¯s vessel docked, it¡¯s name ¡®Mostly Duct-tape¡¯ painted on the side. Parsk¡¯l had long since collapsed with exhaustion, leaving the single Kirken alone to greet the Admiral, but all gods be damned, he wasn¡¯t going to fail at this last hurdle. The Terran¡¯s ship was surprisingly small¡­ ratty looking even, its paint fading and an outside that could have honestly done with a scrub down.  Kelt¡¯ch was expecting something far more grandiose, of silvers and golds, more like royalty.


    Still, it did kind of make sense. The Terrans were a deathworlder species. They probably didn¡¯t care for aesthetics and put a greater value in functionality. Maybe they¡¯d be impressed with Station Joreial¡¯s minimalist efficiency.


    The door to the small vessel opened and Kelt¡¯ch got to see his first Terran. They really were as scary as the descriptions made them out to be, towering over the average Kirken at over 6 feet tall. The primate that exited was wearing a spacesuit, but underneath the protective fabric he could clearly seethe powerful muscles that could tear through an exoskeleton like paper


    The Terran stumbled out of his vessel, the flightless mammal taking a few steps down the exit ramp as they looked around for a few moments, before finally taking their helmet off. This was not what Kelt¡¯ch was expecting¡­


    Messy wild hair, an unshaven face, and bags under their eyes from a lack of self-care. Sure, Kelt¡¯ch had never seen a Terran in the flesh before, but they had seen pictures of their diplomats and generals on the news. This figure did not look like them. This figure looked like 10 pounds of shit in a 5 pound bag.


    Confusion gave way to understanding as the Kirken remembered that the manifest had two names on it. Clearly this second person, a ¡®Cameron Stanley¡¯, was the Admiral¡¯s bodyguard. Yes, such a rough individual made sense for a deathworlder tasked with protecting such an important person.


    Kelt¡¯ch flew over as fast as he could to greet the Terran, who was getting more and more confused. The Kirken had done their research, so Cameron had left his ship to a literal red carpet laid out in the middle of the docking bay, a small buffet of food placed to the side. Kelt¡¯ch held out a hand in a traditional Terran greeting, which Cameron took and shook awkwardly, trying to blink past the absolute hangover he was nursing from the activities of the days before.


    ¡°Hello Terran delegate. This is station Joreial, and I am its owner, Kelt¡¯ch. We are so glad you have decided to grace us with your presence.¡±


    Cameron just stared blankly back at the strange insect, trying to look past his banging headache at a cargo bay which was just too bright.


    ¡°What?¡±


    Kelt¡¯ch paused for a few moments, before deciding that this bodyguard was clearly a man of few words, being a man of action. The Kirken guided an increasingly bewildered Cameron towards the buffet.


    ¡°The station is perfectly secure, safe and a state-of-the-art facility. You and your charge may enjoy this complimentary edible selection that I hope fulfils your deathworlder pallet!¡±


    Cameron looked down at the selection of food laying before him. He gave an involuntary groan at the thought of eating in his current state. Just as well, since in an attempt to impress Kelt¡¯ch had gone out of his way to procure deathworlder ready catering, making the vast majority of the food on offer very lethal to even Terrans.


    ¡°Oh I couldn''t right now¡­ but thanks!¡±


    Another awkward pause, as both Terran and Kirken stood in silence, both waiting for the other to make the first move, a growing feeling of discontent emanating from both sides. Cameron was way too hung over to understand what was going on, so Kelt¡¯ch had to break the silence first.


    ¡°So as you can see, everything is safe. Will the Admiral be exiting soon?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    The Terran turned back to look at his ship, confused, wondering if he''d picked up an extra passenger during the last week¡¯s events, while Kelt¡¯ch started to get worried that this was somehow a different Terran vessel.


    ¡°The second person on your manifest. An ¡®Admiral CleansALot¡¯.¡±


    Cameron gave a laugh at that.


    ¡°Oh yeah! Well, this isn¡¯t really his vibe. Little guy would get lost out here.¡±


    ¡°It really is no trouble, we can make sure that the admiral stays safe.¡±


    Cameron gave another laugh at that, the idea of this insect protecting the Admiral making the Terran giggle, fading away as he realized the Kirken was being serious.


    ¡°Wait, you¡¯re not joking? The Admiral can¡¯t come out in this environment.¡±


    There was a pause as Kelt¡¯ch understood those words, the insect eventually deciding to get angry at them, insulted even. 5 days ago if he¡¯d known the Admiral was too stuck up to even leave his ship, he would have been overjoyed. But after 5 days of tireless work¡­ god-damn it he wanted some respect.


    ¡°What, am I not good enough to even be graced with his presence? I know this isn¡¯t the best station or the most famous, but to not even give the briefest of greetings¡­ It¡¯s rather very rude, and shows the Terrans in a bad light.¡±


    At this Cameron gave a single raised eyebrow, a smirk hovering over his lips.


    ¡°You want to see the Admiral? Sure. Just follow me and you can meet him!¡±


    That was what they did, Kelt¡¯ch following the Terran into his vessel, a dingy, dirty thing. Smaller than expected, lacking maintenance or care, a simple cargo hauler. If anything it was worse than the station, filled with empty beer cans and needing a severe deep clean. A small part of the Kirken¡¯s mind was putting something together that this wasn¡¯t right, but the annoyance of being snubbed by the Terran Admiral was clouding out that part of his judgement.


    Finally, with an overactive flourish, Cameron pointed to the ¡®esteemed¡¯ Admiral, announcing him with an over enthusiastic and regal voice.


    ¡°Now introducing, for the station owner''s pleasure, the honourable ¡®Admiral CleansALot¡¯!¡±


    The cleaning drone trundled along the floor completely oblivious to the two people watching it, bouncing off of the walls as it did so, the tricorn hat taped to the top wobbling as it moved. Kelt¡¯ch just stared at it for a moment, feeling all of the life drain out of his body as he watched the little mindless drone go about its cleaning.


    ¡°Is this a trick? This cannot be¡­¡±


    ¡°This is Admiral CleansALot. The ship wouldn¡¯t run without the little dude, honestly he¡¯s the real brains of the operation!¡±


    Kelt¡¯ch turned to look at the Terran, who was looking rather smug with himself.


    ¡°But why? I¡¯ve spent the last five days doing nothing but getting ready for an Admiral to visit, and I find that you¡¯ve given a cleaning done a military rank! But why?!¡±


    The Terran paused for a moment, seemingly considering their next response.


    ¡°Honestly? It¡¯s kinda funny.¡±


    An unholy scream erupted from Kelt¡¯ch¡¯s thorax as the pressure of the last five days erupted in one moment. Maybe it was his exhaustion, maybe it was the illegal substances he was using in order to stay awake. But the Kirken did something he thought he¡¯d never do, and launched himself in a rage at Cameron, trying to wrap his hands around the stupid primate deathworlder to throttle the idiot.


    ¡ª-----------------


    Memo to all Terran Citizens travelling outside Terran Conclave space.


    Stop naming cleaning drones with official military or diplomatic titles. It confuses people.


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Jan Eagles.</li>


    </ul>

 Today You, Tomorrow Me.

    Kevin didn¡¯t know it yet, but he was about to save the lives of twenty thousand people. He didn¡¯t wake up that morning expecting to do such a thing, nothing more exciting planned in his day than picking up a burrito from a local food truck. Kevin would never know the impacts of his actions, he would never meet the people he saved. There would be no songs written about him or stories told of his greatness, and he wouldn¡¯t even really remember what he did.


    Every storm starts with the flap of a butterfly¡¯s wings, every tidal wave emerging from a ripple, and every moment of empathy in the universe starts with a single act of kindness.


    Date: 51 PST (Post Stasis Time).


    Teresa was not having a good day.


    Rain poured down from the heavens as she tried her best to get the vehicle running again, the torrent of water soaking her tiny body as she shivered against the harsh storm raging around her. Hooves, talons and every variety of shoe found in the galaxy thudded around the tiny Kalku, as she tried her best to start the vehicle up once again; puddles kicked up by the foot traffic splashing against Teresa¡¯s tiny 6-inch body, leaving her normally sleek black and white striped fur heavy and sodden.


    Tiny grasping hands pulled at various pieces of machinery, a little pointed snout with 6 small whiskers covered in grease as she tried to work out what exactly was wrong with her method of transport, using the propped open hood to try and avoid the worst of the storm. From Teresa¡¯s position, she could see through the glass window to her five small children still sat inside her now broken transport, restlessly fidgeting and fighting with each other as they stayed safe inside the container while the marsupial outside tried her best to try and restart her vehicle.


    In a world where the average species is over 5 feet tall, travelling anywhere as a Kalku with a height of perhaps six inches was a dangerous and harrowing experience; the masses of thundering feet and the great distances between locations made even crossing the street a deadly event. That was why most people of such a size travelled in highly armoured transport vehicles, able to withstand an accidental kick or stomp from practically anything the universe had to offer. This worked relatively well with such individuals¡­


    Until the vehicle broke down in the middle of the street, leaving them stranded.


    Teresa slumped over in desperation as the foot traffic continued around her, the vehicle refusing to start no matter what she did with it, both a useless hunk of metal and the only safety she had against the rain and getting trampled underfoot. It was supposed to have been a simple day out with her children, visiting the extensive shopping centres the City of New Angelos had to offer. Now she was stuck with nowhere to go, only a dangerous journey through the crowds of people. There was nobody to call on this planet, nobody who could help, the Kalku were hardly common outside of their home systems.


    ¡°Hey, you alright down there?¡±


    Teresa glanced up at the mountain of primate that suddenly towered over her, a full 6 foot tall bipedal figure dressed in a brown leather jacket. They carried both a concerned look on their face and a bag full of burritos from a local food stand. It took her a few moments to remember what they were: A Terran, a giant apex predator that sent a small long forgotten part of Teresa¡¯s tiny marsupial brain into an instinctive worry and fear, being pushed away by her more rational sapient thoughts.


    ¡°It¡¯s my transport. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s wrong with it, if you know someone who could help, it¡¯s too dangerous for my kids to walk¡­¡±


    There was a moment as the Terran seemed to look inside the vehicle at the five little tiny Kalku pups, all of whom had stopped fidgeting and were now staring up at the giant now looming over them. The primate gave a large smile, giving a small wave at the children inside the vehicle before turning to stare directly at their mother.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know anyone in particular, but my car¡¯s parked not too far from here. I can give you a lift to the embassy sector, someone there will totally know what to do.¡±


    ¡°If you could, that would be a lifesaver.¡±


    The Terran needed no more prompting to spring into action, Teresa jumping back into her vehicle as the giant primate picked the entire thing up in one go, as if something containing her entire family was nothing more than a children¡¯s toy. They were lifted high into the air, or at least high from the Kalku¡¯s perspective, as the children inside giggled and shouted at this sudden new view, faces pressed against the glass.


    Then, they were off. What would have been an hour of dangerous travel for Teresa, dodging the crowds of thundering giants, was completed in less than ten minutes, the Terran pushing through the streets while holding their entire vehicle like it was nothing: A torturous trek through a storm for a Kalku was a mere stroll through a slight covering of rain on a gloomy day for the ¡®normal¡¯ sized primate.


    It wasn¡¯t long before the giant primate¡¯s vehicle was in sight, Teresa¡¯s broken form of transport placed entirely in the backseat. The Terran seemed to rummage around in the back for a moment, before handing her a giant towel to dry herself off with. She gratefully took it as the inferior of the car steamed up slightly, the 7 people taking refuge from the cold and rain outside.


    ¡°Thank you so much! I¡¯m Teresa by the way.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Kevin, and it¡¯s no problem at all! Do you all want something to eat? I got an extra Burrito you can totally have, they always give me too much food!¡±


    The cheers from the little tiny pups was all Kevin needed to hear as he placed the extra food in front of them, the 5 children needing no encouragement to dig into a burrito literally larger than they were. Teresa fished around inside her belongings before pulling out a credit chip.


    ¡°Let me pay you for the ride and food. I don¡¯t have much, but I can give you something for this.¡±


    The Terran just shook his head, holding out a hand to reject the offer as the car started to drive itself towards their destination, its basic self-driving routines taking them towards the district where the City¡¯s many embassies stood, for the many different kinds of people who visited the City of New Angelos.


    ¡°Nah, it ain¡¯t nothing. You looked like you were having a ringer of a day, everyone needs a little bit of help sometimes.¡±


    Teresa held out the payment once more, more insistently, now fully dried and the sounds of her children happily eating their body weight in food coming from her side.


    ¡°I can¡¯t just leave you with nothing after you¡¯ve been such a help!¡±


    Kevin paused for a moment, before looking down at the little tiny Kalku.


    ¡°Save your money and pass it on. We Terrans, we believe in a Karma, that good deeds will eventually come around to you. Next time you see someone in trouble, give ¡®em some aid if you can. There¡¯s a saying around my parts. Today you, Tomorrow me.¡±


    ¡ª--------------------


    Date: 59 PST (Post Stasis Time).


    Yulnthak was not having a good day.


    ¡°No, no no no no no no!¡±


    The voice cried out with the telltale sound of desperation and despair. A deep voice, a powerful voice, one that emanated out from the mountain of a man that knelt on the ground in despair. The lltama were a herbivorous species, but anyone who knew their biology could tell you that some of the most dangerous beings in the universe ate nothing but plants and fruits. The short pitch black fur was their least intimidating trait. Almost every being had to look up at the massive figure, 9 feet tall if he stayed quadrupedal, four legs and two arms made entirely of dense muscle.  Hooves as hard as steel, pointedly deadly horns, all finalized with two deep, red eyes. A Terran might describe them as a bovine centaur made of nightmares and hate, the kind of herd animal that even a hippo would steer clear of.


    This one was crying out in despair, kneeling in the gutter as they desperately tried to shove their stubby fingers through the grate, ignoring the mud and dirt soaking into Yulnthak¡¯s finely tailored cream-coloured robes. He gave up on trying to reach their fingers through the metal filter, desperately picking up a random stick from the park path that ran besides him, trying to shove it through the gap as the lltama tried to fish out the item that he¡¯d dropped into the drain.


    ¡°Come on, come on, I got you!¡±


    Yulnthak could see it, an emerald green pendant sat at the bottom of the drain, glimmering in the dark and threatening to be washed away to wherever such debris ends up. The lltama desperately tried to angle the stick to hook it back towards the surface, but both the limited space for his tool to manoeuvre and his own lack of dexterity worked together to create an impossible task. Yulnthak couldn¡¯t retrieve the item no matter how hard he tried.


    But he couldn¡¯t leave it behind either. that wasn¡¯t an option. It wasn¡¯t just a piece of jewellery shining in the dark, it was a Lurin: The lltama had a special ceremony for their dead, where the horns of a fallen lltama were removed, ground down, and cast within precious stones, forever to remain with those who remembered and loved them.


    Yulnthak remembered and loved her. Even after all these years, his one true mate still had his heart, as broken as it was. Time may heal all wounds, but it also erodes and weathers away the memories of those now gone. Her scent was no longer present in the house they had built together. The flowers she¡¯d planted no longer bloomed after many winters. The path she¡¯d made from walking through that door every day had grown over with grasses, as nobody walked it any more.


    But the pendent had remained, worn close to his heart every day, a reminder forever eternal of the person he had loved, their memories forever with him. But now even that was gone, the chain holding the pendant together snapping as continual use wore it down and the march of time weakened and broke the bonds; the last physical reminder of who she was to Yulnthak disappearing down the drain, as he¡¯d walked along the park path.


    The lltama tossed the stick away, giving a desperate cry of grief as he beat upon the grate, the unyielding metal uncaring about Yulnthak¡¯s loss, unmoved by both the tears he shed and the physical strength he possessed.


    ¡°Excuse me, are you OK?¡±


    Yulnthak turned to look at where the noise had come from, seeing a tiny little figure standing in front of him. The black and white striped marsupial was barely half a foot tall, a concerned look upon her pointy snouted face as the giant sobbed in front of her.


    ¡°I dropped my Lurin, it snapped off the chain, and it fell down the drain¡­¡±


    The little marsupial stepped up slowly to be standing level with the giant bovine, the tiny figure dwarfed by Yulnthak as she stared down the grating, squinting for a moment before pointing out the green object.


    ¡°Is that it? The emerald hooked on that branch down there?¡±


    ¡°I just can¡¯t get the angle to hook it out. It¡¯s the last thing of hers that I have¡­¡±


    Yulnthak¡¯s voice had turned from pure anguish to a forlorn accepting tone, as he was starting to accept that the Lurin was gone, while the little marsupial seemed to inspect the grate for a moment. She looked at the small holes in the metal before turning to look at the despairing lltama.


    ¡°I think I can slide through the gap here. If you hoist me down I can retrieve it for you.¡±


    ¡°-you¡¯d do that for me? Are you sure?¡±


    Yulnthak¡¯s voice filled with a small amount of hope as this stranger offered to do such a thing for him. The marsupial gave a shrug in response.


    ¡°Consider it my good deed of the day, just don¡¯t drop me! I¡¯m Teresa.¡±


    ¡°Yulnthak! Thank you so much, I¡¯ll be careful!¡±


    The lltama quickly retrieved the long stick he¡¯d been using to fish the pendant out of the drain, watching as Teresa grabbed on tight to the end as he carefully lowered it into the damp darkness. It took a mere instant for the tiny marsupial to collect the emerald stone, a simple act for such a tiny creature. Yulnthak liftied both of them back out of the drain slowly, holding his breath until Teresa and the Lurin were safely back on dry land, neither worse for wear, although now a little damp. He took a moment to check that the last remaining monument to his lost beloved was undamaged, before wrapping the tiny creature in a joyous, careful hug.


    ¡°Thank you, thank you, thank you! You don¡¯t know how much this means, how can I ever repay you?¡±


    Teresa took a moment to think, before the words of a strange Terran came to mind.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing, I don¡¯t need anything. Just next time you see someone who needs aid¡­ pass it on. Today you, Tomorrow me.¡±


    ¡ª----------------


    Date: 72 PST (Post Stasis Time).


    L¡¯tac was not having a good day.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    If anything, the Raha wasn¡¯t having a good year. The bipedal insectoid scurried along the streets, the dark blue hoodie covering most of his features as he kept his head down along the dark, dimly lit alleys. Five years ago L¡¯tac had taken a risk, and five years ago L¡¯tac¡¯s life had improved in every way. The Raha wasn¡¯t an important person back home, an insignificant figure, born in the darkest caves of his home world, far from the loving embrace of the sun. That made him¡­ worthless. In a society dominated by caste and punching down on those below you, L¡¯tac had a life full of suffering and tragedy.


    Five years ago an opportunity had made itself known to the Raha, an unattended ship, and L¡¯tac had taken a risk. He¡¯d stolen the vessel and made a straight beeline towards the nearest Terran Alliance system, asking for and receiving asylum. His life since then had been easier, enjoying the fruits of a free and open society. Far away from the four terrible species that made up the Estorian Empire, including his own people.


    Until one year ago. One year ago, war had broken out between the Estorian Empire and the Terran Alliance, one started by the Raha themselves. One year ago, the Raha royal guard had attacked a Terran scientific station, killing everyone on board, including torturing a canine uplift to death. One year ago, everything had changed for L¡¯tac.


    The clothing felt strange, weird, folding his antenna in uncomfortable ways, but it did the job of hiding what L¡¯tac was. From a distance, you could mistake him for any another insectoid bipedal, hiding the fact that he was a Raha from anyone glancing in his direction. Since the war and the details of what had happened were made public, people had become¡­ angry. Scary. A rage building up amongst the Terran and non-Terran population alike. Officially, he was still a refugee in hiding from his terrible government, but unofficially, it was clear from the general populace that L¡¯tac was no longer welcome here.


    ¡°Oy, where the fuck do you think you''re going you spider fuck?¡±


    The Terran voice shouted out in a drunken drawl behind him, anger and intoxication mixing together into a hate filled cocktail. L¡¯tac ignored the shouts, giving only a momentary glance towards the group of four Terrans behind him, choosing instead to dip his head and move a little faster. The alleyway was mostly empty, only dim neon lighting providing illumination through the dark night, the side streets at this time of night cleared of all traffic. That was why L¡¯tac travelled at this time: he was less likely to meet the many residents of the Terran Alliance who were no longer friendly to someone like him.


    ¡°I was talking to you, you Raha shit! What, you in a rush to go kill another dog?!¡±


    L¡¯tac moved faster now, hoping that ignoring the drunk Terrans would be the correct response. He just wanted to get home where he¡¯d be safe and away from prying eyes that now hated him. This wasn¡¯t what the now following group wanted, their shouts continuing as they started to follow down the alleyway, each egging the others on as they followed their target, the Raha ignoring their insults until they got bored.


    An unsuccessful strategy. With a look of rage, the leader of the group threw the beer bottle he¡¯d been holding, proving correct the old adage that you¡¯re never truly out of range of a human. The sound of shattering glass filling the alley as the empty container crashed against the back of L¡¯tac¡¯s head, the Raha collapsing to the floor in pain, feeling the wet warmth of blood cover his insectoid hands as he grasped his head on the floor.


    The four attackers moved towards their downed prey, anger mixing with intoxication mixing with a lack of consequences in this empty alley, creating a final painting of hate and ignorance as they started to surround poor L¡¯tac, one of Terran giving a vicious kick to the side of curled up Raha.


    ¡°You some kind of spy? You here to scout out another attack? You ain¡¯t so tough when we fight back, are you!¡±


    ¡°Excuse me, just exactly what is going on here? Why are you making so much noise at this time of night?¡±


    The complete irony of the Terran¡¯s statement would never fully sink in, as the sound of a door opening and a new voice interrupted the proceedings, the four Terrans turning to face this figure. A momentary look of confusion and worry crossed the group¡¯s faces as 9 feet worth of pure bovine muscle exited the back door of a nearby building, the intimidating effect of the deep black centaur from hell only slightly tamed by the floral pattern nighttime robes he wore, as well as the tired look on his face from his disturbed slumber.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t nothing to do with you. It¡¯s just some Estorian spy realizing he picked the wrong planet to be on!¡±


    The Terran gave L¡¯tac another kick, this one a far less effective drunken affair, causing a look of worry and disgust to cover the features of the newcomer. The giant man moved towards the commotion, getting in between L¡¯tac and the Terrans. Then he slowly stood to his full height, his head towering further and further over them as a small part of the attackers minds started regretting their decisions to be near this mountain of a person.


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t seem like an action befitting civilized beings. This is over, leave.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t tell us what to do Mr McDonald, who do you think you- ARGHHHHHH!¡±


    A more intelligent man would have known where and when to pick their battles, and that going up against a 9 foot tall monster was a bad idea. However, alcohol, male bravado and ignorance tend to intersect at Bad Idea Avenue, as the most bold of the Terrans had chosen to enact the very bad idea of jabbing an angry finger into the chest of the bovine. The bovine had taken offence to that, grabbing the offending limb and giving it a painful twist, the sound of the Terran¡¯s agony and the cracking of bone reinforcing the learning effect of how much of a bad idea this entire thing was.


    The other three immediately fled, no amount of liquid intoxicated courage giving them the stupid idea to go up against this beast from hell, the fourth following when the bovine finally let his broken arm go, scrambling to catch up with the rest of the stupid group. Now alone, he turned to look at the figure still curled up on the floor: The Raha had a nasty injury to the back of his head needing medical attention, but not life-threateningly so. He reached down, picking up L¡¯tac between his arms as if he weighed nothing.


    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get you to the hospital.¡±


    ¡°Why, why would you help me? Nobody here helps me.¡±


    It took a few moments for the Raha to finally speak up. The bovine took a few moments of his own to consider this as he carried the insectoid in the direction of medical care.


    ¡°The universe is not your fault, and I was in the position to help. The world is a better place when people try to help others. As a strange but kind marsupial once told me: Today you, Tomorrow me.


    ¡ª----------------------


    Date: 73 PST (Post Stasis Time).


    Empress Katrealla, hunter of beasts, commander of the fourth legion, was not having a good day.


    The reptile lay upon the dirt path, writhing in pain and delirium as the world around her faded in and out, the long orange serpentine body of the Dtari convulsing as painful colours flashed around her vision. Pride comes before the fall, and the Empress was nothing but prideful, leading to the litany of mistakes that led to this moment.


    She should have brought her royal guards with her, she should have accepted the offer of a local guide, she should have stayed on the main paths, and she should have been more careful. A lot of shoulds, coulds, and would haves if Katrealla had the option to redo things. Based on her heart rate, the leader of the Dtari might not have a lot of time for reflection left.


    Sure, the planet sized nature reserve she was visiting advertised itself as being dangerous, but that was dangerous to a Terran. Wimpy primates with no natural amour, teeth or claws to defend themselves: regarding their warnings the same way she might regard the cries of mythical monsters in the dark from children. She was Empress Katrealla, hunter of beasts, commander of the fourth legion: nothing these primates could throw at her would be actually dangerous!


    In retrospect, she should have taken these warnings more into account. Hindsight was 20/20 after all. Katrealla didn¡¯t really see what had bitten her, something reptilian with a flash of bright colour. Something venomous.


    And now Empress Katrealla, hunter of beasts, commander of the fourth legion, lay dying in the dirt. A brief moment of lucidity led her to wonder if the army she controlled would ever find her body.


    Movement, the Empress was moving somehow, hands grasping her by the shoulders and dragging her along the ground. She didn¡¯t know what was going on in her delirium, what or who was doing this, but Katrealla could feel the change as the harsh sun became a cool shade. A sharp pain poked the serpentine¡¯s neck, before eventually she fell into a deep dreamless sleep.


    Awaking was both a pleasant surprise and a curse as the Dtari felt awful, her head feeling like rocks being ground together and a mouth as dry as the dust on the ground. The sun had dipped slightly since the last time she had awoken, suggesting several hours had passed since her last conscious thought.


    Katrealla was laying in the shade of a tree as a figure watched over her. It took a moment for the empress to realize it was a Raha of all people, an oddity in Terran Alliance space. The Dtari tried to speak, but nothing but a harsh whisper emitted from her parched throat. The bipedal insect handed her a container of water in response, which she drank from gratefully.


    ¡°I¡¯m L¡¯tac, found you in trouble out there. Looks like you got bit by something nasty, you''re lucky I was here. What are you doing out here without any anti-venom on you?¡±


    The Raha explained softly as Katrealla finished drinking, dipping her head in shame at this mention. The diplomat she was meeting here had suggested such a thing, but in her arrogance she had discarded such silly precautions. This entire meeting was to determine if her people would ally with these silly primates who claimed to be warriors, and the Empress hadn¡¯t expected the Terrans to have anything actually dangerous.


    ¡°I did not believe it was necessary, since I doubted the danger of anything a Terran world could provide. This was seemingly a mistake.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, if a Terran tells you something is dangerous, listen. The people here are generally nice, that''s why I moved here a few months ago, but any world the Terrans create to be specifically dangerous shouldn¡¯t be underestimated.¡±


    Empress Katrealla was many things: Prideful, Arrogant, a fan of shooting enemies. Dishonourable wasn¡¯t one of them. Katrealla slowly and painfully stood up, the Raha taking a step back after realizing just how¡­ big and well-built the Dtari Empress was, as she stood up to her full height.


    ¡°I am Empress Katrealla, hunter of beasts, commander of the fourth legion. You, L¡¯tac the Raha, saved my life. We now owe a blood debt to you, my armies, my legion, my strength will aid you in any campaign or crusade until this debt is cleared.¡±


    There was an awkward pause as Katrealla made this declaration, the Raha staring up at her for a moment before giving a shrug.


    ¡°Ehhh, don¡¯t really need it. I¡¯m happy on this planet: Cool nature, nice people, don¡¯t really have much of a need for a crusade here.¡±


    The Empress deflated a little bit, looking confused. Being denied the ability to pay her debt to this Raha was not how this was supposed to go.


    ¡°You¡­ can¡¯t¡­. do that? You saved my life, a debt is formed, I can¡¯t¡­ not pay it!¡±


    ¡°Give it to someone else then, pass on the good vibes, save someone else who needs it. Help others and they¡¯ll help you. As they say: Today You, Tomorrow Me¡±.


    ¡ª----------------------


    Date: 74 PST (Post Stasis Time).


    Governor Steven Holden was not having a good day


    He sat in the bunker along with the thousands of other people, huddled together and awaiting the end, the harsh concrete walls and bright lighting not doing much to brighten their moods. They could hear the sounds of fighting and war outside the bunker doors, thousands of scared faces and tens of species as diverse as the colony of Little Polonia itself. A few of them were armed, standing ready with weaponry should the enemy breach the bunker, although they knew any resistance would be forlorn.


    Little Polonia was a new Colony, a mere 15 years old and made up of various races in the Terran Alliance: Hatil, Ritilians, Kirken, and of course, Terrans. One hundred thousand people of different species and backgrounds coming together to create something new, to create something beautiful. The cities and gardens were from a variety of different planets, large Terran Elm trees growing next to Hatil Tutu bushes. The Spiralling floating architecture of Kirken buildings mixing with the Zorthian glass-based aquatic architecture.


    There was something pure about the idea, the unity of different cultures and peoples coming together to create something new, something exciting. Travelling across the stars to try something new, a swirling snow globe amongst the stars. Soon be shattered into a thousand pieces, the remnants of the colony hiding in this bunker.


    The Terran Alliance war against the Estorian Empire had taken a turn for the worse. The four terrible slaver races that made up the cruel military force had not been doing ¡®well¡¯ in their conflicts with the Terrans, each of the races refusing to work with each other over the last three years.


    Until now.


    It had been a hard fought battle, with both sides trading blows and leaving masses of scrap and debris in the system surrounding the colony, but in the end the Terran Alliance had been forced to retreat from the area, evacuating as many people from Little Polonia as they could, but still forced to leave behind twenty thousand souls. Twenty thousand souls who could do little but wait and watch as death and destruction of all they had built approached. The Estorian Fleet was damaged, but the little colony didn¡¯t have anything to fight back with once the main fleet had retreated with all the civilians they could carry.


    The sounds were getting louder now, a few murmurs and whimpers of fear from the people he¡¯d been elected to lead. A macabre wonder started running through Governor Holden¡¯s mind, at exactly which of the four races would burst through the door? Ironically the giant lizard-like Hagorthian¡¯s would probably be best: They didn¡¯t really take slaves, or prisoners, preferring to just kill anyone they met in their ever demanding desire for combat.


    The other three were just worse choice after worse choice: The Insectoid Raha were sadistic, enjoying torturing and playing with anything they considered ¡®lesser¡¯ than them, which included basically everyone and everything. The Avians who went by the name Lelzoil at least avoided needless pain and suffering. They preferred to tear subjects apart for scientific reasons, tests and processes in their never ending desire for knowledge and growth. Maybe both of them were better than the Uhae, whose XK-wave abilities literally stole your mind away from you, controlling their subjects like puppets for their own desires.


    The Governor tensed along with his remaining people as the sound of something cutting into the bunker door¡¯s opening mechanism reverberated around the room, followed by the clunking of metal as someone started opening the heavy metal door using the manual override. Daylight started creeping in under the now widening entrance, shadows of movement from figures visible.


    Gunfire. The few armed civilians aiming at the door took fire at the gap, none of them taking any chances, the figures on the other side dove for cover, the opening door stopping in mid-air as the members of the Little Polonia colony defended themselves.


    ¡°Stop, stop, stop! What is wrong with you, you idiotic weakling primates! Stop shooting!¡±


    That wasn¡¯t the voice of an Estorian race. It wasn¡¯t even a Terran Alliance race. Steven¡¯s translator helpfully explained the voice was speaking in Dtari, despite the fact that there wasn¡¯t a single Dtari on the planet. Why was there a Dtari on the planet? Confused murmuring spread amongst the people in the bunker as they allowed the bunker door to be opened fully, this time without gunfire.


    Yep, there they were. Not just one, but an entire army of the serpentine species. The Dtari were a neutral warrior race, known for their honourable conduct, but not known for getting involved in random wars and helping people.


    The scene outside the bunker was also a mystery. Various Estorian and Dtari bodies lay scattered as far as the eye could see, discarded and destroyed weapons of war from both sides  sprinkled in between. A battle had clearly been going on, the signs of fighting and warfare evident, thousands of the Dtari legion marching around and securing the end result of their victorious conflict.


    In front of them stood the largest of the serpentine Dtari, standing at her full height, armour splattered with her enemies blood and a vicious claw mark running down her side. It was an intimidating sight, and one that the governor wasn¡¯t sure if it was good or bad news.


    ¡°Uhm¡­ hello. I¡¯m Governor Holden of this colony and¡­ what are you doing here if you don¡¯t mind me asking? Not that I¡¯m complaining if your intentions are honourable.¡±


    The full level of confusion was on display as the Terran tried to push past the complete lack of information he had, to provide at least an attempt at a polite greeting. In response the large dominating Dtari stood to her full height as she responded.


    ¡°I am Empress Katrealla, hunter of beasts, commander of the fourth legion. I am here to aid you as part of my blood debt. My only requested payment is you pass it on to others in need. Today You, Tomorrow Me.¡±

 Why we said yes - Introduction

    Date: 74 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    ¡°The Terran Alliance was pushed from the planet by the Estorian Empire.¡±


    That sentence made Zantari pause for a moment, staring down at the screen hovering in front of themselves.  They understood the words, of course, Zantari hadn¡¯t spent their thousands of years of existence being illiterate, but one of them was a new word, one they hadn¡¯t seen before.


    ¡°Terran¡±


    Zantari liked to consider themselves well-read and up to date on the latest goings-on in the universe. In fact, all of his species would consider themselves as such. Most species can be defined as having one goal or another, one word that broadly describes their culture. Warrior, explorer, conqueror, trader, healer.


    The Ghirlinn could be described as watchers, archivists, cataloguing and learning about the millions of species that inhabited the near infinite universe, over the near infinite number of galaxies.


    When you got to the technological level of the Ghirlinn, there really wasn¡¯t much else you could do. Sure you could go and conquer planet after planet with your technological advantage, but not only was that boring, eventually your grand empire would either collapse into infighting, or worse, you would end up attacking a species with some form of higher protection. Becoming a god was a thing, although there were only so many types of life you could create and civilizations to form before that becomes stale too.


    Ascending to a higher form of existence was always an option, and something many Ghirlinn had chosen to do at this point, although Zantari didn¡¯t quite feel that their hundreds of thousands of years of physical existence had been enough yet, and wasn¡¯t quite ready for that next step. Besides, you couldn¡¯t get a stiff drink after ascending.


    So, instead, they watched. The millions of species, trillions of people, all doing interesting, special, and fun things. Like a never ending soap opera: they fought and loved, they laughed and died. Seeing betrayals and alliances form as various empires and governments rose and fell made for a level of entertainment. Which was why Zantari was confused that they didn¡¯t know the word ¡°Terran¡±. It wasn¡¯t a species in the Ghirlinn¡¯s central repository, and finding something new was always interesting.


    Zantari sat in the comfortable ¡®den¡¯ of their creation, a mass of blankets and snacks suspended in a white void, perfect for some light reading about the goings-on in the Milky Way. In the middle of this pile of comfort, lay the Ghirlinn. Describing a Ghirlinn is a difficult thing, since they can choose their appearance as they see fit, able to shift and change their entire being with a mere thought. Right now, they chose to take the form of a small furry brown mammal nestled snugly in between the literal mountain of white soft pillows and duvets.


    No, this wouldn¡¯t do at all. This is the environment for chilling out, not for doing research on an unknown species.


    In an instant, reality moved at Zantari¡¯s mere prodding, the room changing to a simple study of brick walls and oak furniture, faux books lining a shelf on one wall, and a roaring fire on the other. Their own form took on a more reptilian professional appearance, adorned in silken robes of red and gold, six fingered hands covered in light grey-blue scales, all four of their arms reaching out to various hovering interfaces as they started looking through this galaxy¡¯s various repositories for more information on these ¡®Terrans¡¯ and their alliance.


    They soon found what they needed in various textual descriptions. A species of primate, recently appearing on the galactic scene a mere [74 years] ago. B+ level technology, and if their propaganda was to be believed, hadn¡¯t just built an AI that didn¡¯t kill them, but claimed to live together with their AI, unified under one name. Now that was a rarity. They weren¡¯t the first species in the universe to survive the creation of an AI, but most of the time it ended with a ¡®mutual separation¡¯, where creator and created decide to go their own way. There were several Ghirlinn AI civilizations scattered around the universe, and their creators wished them well, but left them to do their own thing.


    Whoever these Terrans were. It sadly wouldn¡¯t matter. Having to fight the Estorian Empire as a newcomer to the galaxy was a harsh introduction to the universe; It was highly unlikely this single species could stand against the terrible power of the five shitheads that made up the Empire.


    Although calling your new alliance after yourself was a little bit arrogant.


    Normally new species went for something more optimistic, ¡°The Council of Stars¡± or something like that. A little bit of curiosity caused Zantari to go looking for who exactly the Terrans had allied with, to the extent that they¡¯d be willing to go to war on the Terran¡¯s behalf. Upon finding that information, they paused, stopping for a moment as they looked at the list with a moment of confusion.


    This had to be wrong. There is no way this is right.


    There were 428 names on that list. Two of them had joined after the war had been declared. The species had only been on the galactic scene for 74 years, this wasn¡¯t possible for a civilization to garner this many allies in such a short period of time. Sure, most of the names on the list were smaller 1-2 system governments, but they could see a handful of heavy hitters looking down the gigantic list of names. Zantari checked once, checked twice, then decided that this was worth further investigation.


    How did a civilization creating this Alliance get missed in our records? This should be worth some note.


    Their confusion was driven deeper as they investigated who was responsible for logging, cataloguing and maintaining diplomatic relations with that area of the galaxy. It was a Ghirlinn by the name of Xanara, based on the same station as Zantari was currently on. There was a meeting booked to start proper diplomatic relations with the Terrans in [25 years, 3 months and 2 days] time, just slightly under the [100 year] deadline upon discovering a new species. This was even more confusing, suggesting that Xanara hadn¡¯t missed this huge alliance forming out of nowhere, but instead had purposefully avoided adding it to the records.


    Well, I¡¯m going to get to the bottom of this.


    The room disappeared in a moment, leaving Zantari in the public area of the Ghirlinn station, as they shifted their form to that of a giant green avian. They took flight, taking to the air as they moved towards the known location of Xanara¡¯s quarters. They could have just teleported of course, well¡­ teleported was the wrong technical term for it. You couldn¡¯t transport atoms without destroying the original object, but it was far easier to just move the rest of the universe closer to your location. Still, Zantari chose not to do that, always enjoying the feeling of flight as they moved through the station, taking a moment to gather their thoughts.


    Like all Ghirlinn stations, size wasn¡¯t really a measurable thing, since the physical limitations of dimensional constructs were no longer being heeded. The station was both the size of a pinhead, and larger than most planets, allowing Zantari to fly through corridors through it in a matter of both years and seconds. It looked nothing like any ordinary vessel, the various rooms and areas of the station refusing to follow any logical or even Euclidean rules.


    Sprawling landscapes of wildness gave way to voids of crystalline light floating in the air. The birth of a star could be found at the bottom of an infinite staircase to yesterday, a side door took you to a quiet diner, serving warm comforting food while it continually rained outside. When dimensions and physical reality cease to be the limiting factor of a species technology, the only limit left to break, is that of your imagination.


    Eventually, after a period of time unable to be measured, Zantari arrived at their location: Xanara¡¯s quarters. The beach was vast, an infinite horizon of golden sands stretching out to infinity, above it a sky lit up with a never ending supernova. They could see Xanara in the centre of it all as they approached, the Ghirlinn taking a long flat form, stretching for miles and having buried themselves slightly, enjoying the sensation of the warm shifting sands cascading around the large surface area of their chosen form.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    <Greetings Zantari, what brings you to my office?>


    Zantari felt the words enter their mind as they approached, giving a polite wave of their wing before responding in kind.


    <Greetings to you as well Xanara. I¡¯ve come to ask some questions about a species under your diplomatic responsibility. What do you know about ¡®Terrans¡¯?>


    There was a pause, a most noticeable pause as Xanara slowly got worried.


    <Well, shit. I guess someone else was bound to notice them eventually.>


    The space changed, the never-ending beach being replaced with a more formal setting: A well furnished office with no other distractions, various floating screens and interfaces allowing access to a universe of information. Xanara also changed, choosing a more professional form; the same reptilian bipedal form Zantari had used while researching. Zantari shifted themselves as well, doing the same out of politeness.


    <What¡¯s the problem? They¡¯re just a new species of primate, why the delay in adding them to the records?> Zantari asked, moderately confused and curious.


    <They¡¯re not just a species of primate, adding them to the records is going to cause issues. Terrans are¡­> Xanara paused as they tried to collect their thoughts, before deciding upon a different approach <Let me just show you.>


    There was a moment before a visualization appeared on one of the screens floating in between the pair of Ghirlinn. A Terran, unclothed, arms and legs stretched out, showing their furless, bipedal and tailless form. Zantari made a small coughing noise, struggling for a moment to remain professional. This creature¡­ was adorable. It was like a child who hadn¡¯t gone past their larval stage, hairless and with only four limbs. Somehow the small tufts the Terran did have upon their tiny heads made them even cuter. Zantari had the distinct urge to give this creature hugs and candied treats.


    Noticing the other¡¯s reaction, Xanara continued, making a gesturing motion to the image.


    <It gets worse. This is how most Terrans look on their day-to-day life.>


    The image changed again, this time showing an actual image of one of the Terran¡¯s military leaders. Zantari¡¯s professionally completely broke this time, emitting an actual physical noise which could only be described as ¡®A Squee of Cute overload¡¯.


    <Oh my goodness that is adorable! Look at it, It¡¯s got a little hat and those clothes. It¡¯s trying to be serious, but it¡¯s not and those shiny adornments on his chest. Look at it, it¡¯s so squishable.>


    <That is the 1st Admiral of their war fleet, by the way, a very distinguished position, so I¡¯ve come to understand. I also had the same reaction when their diplomats contacted our outpost in this galaxy [72 years] ago.>


    Zantari slowly calmed down, both feeling a regret that they didn¡¯t know about this adorably cute species that took themselves too seriously, and a confusion as to why Xanara looked so worried.


    <So what¡¯s the problem? An adorably cute species wants to open diplomatic communications with us?>


    <What was your first reaction to seeing this image? Be honest.>


    <It¡¯s cute and I want one.>


    Xanara spread their arms out wide as if the other Ghirlinn had proven their point.


    <When I initialize contact and this image, as well as the thousands of other pictures that exist in their diplomatic package, gets spread to the other galaxies, what do you think their reaction will also be?>


    It took a few seconds of thinking before Zantari realized with absolute horror the issue at hand.


    <Oh no. They¡¯ll go out to get their own. Terran trafficking is going to become a problem.>


    <We can stop most of it, but not all, and even if the people doing this outside government control won¡¯t have a creation engine, these Terrans have nothing able to stop even a basic transport carrier. I don¡¯t know how these Primates would react to that kind of invasion and kidnapping.>


    Zantari started to think. Solutions had to be available, there was no such thing as impossible to the Ghirlinn.


    <Can''t we move just some of their planets to other galaxies, spread the Terrans around a bit to make the people in the other galaxies happy? They have over 30 systems, surely they can spare a few planets. We can give them some Dyson spheres in return, species at that technological level love Dyson spheres.>


    <That¡¯s the issue, I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know if the Terrans would see that as an insult or not. Every piece of information available about them is contradictory and stupid. I thought I could just see how they acted in the galaxy and infer from there but¡­ well just look at the Terran Alliance list! They have the aggressive Litorian Horde and the Scythen¡¯s with their new pacificism thing.>


    Zantari brought up the list of over 400 species once again, looking through it more carefully this time. Xanara was right, every single member on this list was a contradiction to the other. By any reasonable accounts, this organization should have fallen to infighting about 5 years after it was made.


    <Wait, is that the Jkugar and Yuur? Aren¡¯t they in the middle of a [400 year] war of genocide against each other?>


    <They were, now for the last [40 years] that¡¯s been put on hold ever since they joined the Alliance. It makes no sense, I can¡¯t tell if the Terrans are pacifists or warriors, if they prefer power or information. I have no clue how to diplomatically deal with them and the issues they¡¯re about to face from our species, and I don¡¯t want to be known as the person who caused the adorably cute primates to hate us. I know they¡¯re not a threat, but I don¡¯t want something that helpless to declare war on us!>


    <I mean, seeing them try to fight us would be kinda adorable, we could even set up some fake victories for them¡­>


    Xanara stared at Zantari for a moment, the latter realizing that ¡®whether the Terrans going to war was cute or not¡¯, was not the point of contention.


    <My point is, without talking to these Terrans first, I don¡¯t know how to deal with them and the problems they¡¯re about to face. I can¡¯t talk to them to find out without logging it in the official records, and doing that setting these problems in motion! I¡¯ve mostly just been hoping the problem goes away on its own.>


    Well that wouldn¡¯t work, just waiting for it to solve itself, that kind of problem never did. It was a classic Catch-22. You didn¡¯t know how to solve the problem until you triggered the problem itself, and then it was too late. Zantari stared at the list of names once more, when an idea occurred to them.


    <Why don¡¯t we just ask them?>


    <Did you not listen! I just explained why we can¡¯t talk with the Terrans.>


    <Not the Terrans. Them.> Zantari pointed at the list of names. <The ones they allied with. Each of them must know enough about the cute primates to throw their lot in with them. Why don¡¯t we just ask them?>


    Xanara looked taken aback for a moment, before waving their limbs in agreement and excitement.


    <That could work! Those species are already in our central repositories, so no-one will notice a few diplomatic meetings going on, and this area of the universe is due for a quick checkup regardless! Why didn¡¯t I think of that?>


    It wasn¡¯t considered polite for Zantari to respond to that question, so they didn¡¯t, instead waiting patiently as the other Ghirlinn got to work, pulling up lists of contacts and possible meeting dates, going through the logistics of contacting as many diplomats as possible.


    <Do you want to be the one to go Zantari? It was your idea, and I have a busy schedule for the next [year].>


    <Could be fun, talking with people. I haven¡¯t travelled outside Ghirlinn space for a good few [years]. Should be something new.>


    Something new indeed. Once again Zantari stared at the list of names, hundreds of species, each one as varied as the last. Warrior races, traders, single planet species who only just got FTL and multi system empires. There was no sense to it all, no rhyme, no reason; but there must be. There must be a reason why all these different cultures agreed to ally themselves with these adorable primates, a central rule that explains what these Terrans stand for.


    All Zantari had to do was travel around the galaxy and ask these species to explain why they joined the Terran Alliance. To ask them to explain, when these Terrans asked them to join:


    Why we said yes.

 Why we said yes - Ritilians

    Like most Ritilian planets, Jormangar was of a temperate climate. Dry and arid, the reptilian species had emerged from its sand covered masses and entered the galaxy about 3000 years ago. A moderately influential race with a penchant for exploration, they were well known for their vast network of small colonies scattered around the galaxy, taking warmer locations that most species couldn¡¯t handle.


    Zantari stood in the embassy that hung in the sky, the giant floating structure hovering over the great capital city below. Their taken form was a small cream-coloured bipedal reptile, dressed in airy white robes, to deal with the heat that even this room suffered from. They looked out of the large glass window that offered an enticing view of the entire sunlit land beneath them. While the Ritilians had long since left the sand dunes behind in favour of a bustling metropolis, the cultural impact of such a start to their species was clearly evident in their architecture.


    Every structure faced the winds with sharp edges designed to cut against the sandstorms of old, a sea of matt white buildings more akin to sails stretching as far as the eyes could see, thousands of different buildings of varying sizes, from tall skyscrapers that reached to the heavens to older smaller single family dwellings that almost seemed to erupt from the ground.


    The Ghirlinn had seen this before; the Ritilians were a known quantity, properly catalogued with politely maintained diplomatic relations. What interested them more were the changes. The impact of the Terrans since Zantari had been here last was clear, almost strikingly so. The square buildings that had been created by the primates stood out like a sore thumb, the small structures scattered around the city showing the impact the Terrans had had on the reptilian species over a mere 70 years.


    Zantari was easily able to change their visual acuity to watch the people as they moved around the streets below them, meaning they got their first real life glimpse of the cute little primates known as Terrans. They were a minority, but a noticeable one, as they wandered around the city streets, interacting with the residents of this planet, and sunbathing in the various parks and pools that were scattered in-between the built-up city. Even watching them was adorable, the little munchkins getting into all kinds of trouble as Zantari watched from his seat miles above them in the sky.


    I wonder if they like belly rubs. Their tummies look super patable¡­


    The sound of the door opening caused Zantari to flinch guiltily as they were ripped out of their people watching and tummy rubbing thoughts. Continually reminding themselves that the Terrans were sentient beings was going to be a struggle during this assignment, but a struggle that would have to wait, as the Ritilian delegate they were meeting with finally entered the room.


    The reptilian stood at around 5 feet tall, blue-green scales partially covered by the yellow and green striped uniform that denoted her as a member of the diplomatic staff. She hastily took a seat amongst the off-white professional looking furniture that denoted standard Ritilian decor, Zantari doing the same out of politeness and taking their own seat opposite the reptile.


    ¡°Greetings Ambassador Zantari. I do apologize for the delay, we weren¡¯t expecting a contact from the Ghirlinn, especially at such short notice. I¡¯m diplomat Phallenia, and how can we be of aid to the Ghirlinn?¡±


    Zantari could tell that the Ritilian was worried. Phallenia was hiding it well, but there was a small measure of nervous energy coming from the delegate. The Ritilians were generally pragmatic, and the most pragmatic thing a species could do was not angering a species far higher on the technological food chain than you were.


    ¡°No worries at all. We¡¯re just doing an audit of this area of the universe, and have a few questions about this grand alliance that you are a part of. Can you please explain about this ¡®Terran Alliance¡¯?¡±


    Phallenia was obviously confused, a curious and wary look appearing over her face as she stared back at the Ghirlinn.


    ¡°Well¡­ if you want to know about the Alliance, there¡¯s not really much I can tell you that¡¯s not in the public records. Honestly, contacting the Terrans themselves is probably the better source of information.¡±


    ¡°All in good time. I feel that talking with the individual members gives us a better feel for the overall structure as we understand this new development. I understand that the Ritilians were the first members of the alliance?¡±


    ¡°Well if you don¡¯t count the Hatil, which we don¡¯t since they weren¡¯t voluntary, then yes. Before it was an Alliance, there were the Terrans and the Ritilians.¡±


    Zantari noted a measure of pride coming from the reptilian before them as they stated that, as if being the first was a huge honour.


    ¡°So how did that happen. How did you first ally with the Terrans?¡±


    ¡°Well it all started with the Terran invasion of Cuca. We had just started a small colony on the planet, which the Terrans attempted to also colonise without realizing we were there first. An¡­ engagement ended up happening. Officially we don¡¯t know which side started it, although it¡¯s likely that the Terrans were the ones to start shooting first.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°And this invasion ended in an alliance?¡±


    ¡°Well, we both realized the mistake, the Terrans didn¡¯t wish to push the issue, and we weren¡¯t going to break an unbroken egg. But then a year later, that same colony came under attack by the Tritian AI, with no way to get our defensive forces there in time.¡±


    Zantari knew of the Tritians and their now genocidal AI. They were annoyingly persistent in trying to kill all organic life, even when the Ghirlinn far outmatched them. As Phallenia continued to speak Zantari couldn¡¯t help but feel a bit of sympathy for the members of the Cuca colony for having to deal with that threat.


    ¡°The Terrans were the ones to help, successfully saving thousands of lives. They asked for nothing in return and gave up so much without being asked. Relations between our two species increased immensely since that moment: Trade deals, free movement agreements, you get the idea.¡±


    ¡°And this led to the Alliance?¡±


    ¡°Well the Terrans kept making new friends. The Quoxxett, the Scythens, the Tlunaa. Eventually the web of trade agreements and other treaties became difficult to track, so we decided to make it official after the Terrans made their tenth friend.¡±


    That was interesting, painting the Terrans as friendly charitable philanthropists willing to make friends with and help anyone. Honestly, it sounded sweet: a bunch of cute little primates going around the galaxy helping people. Definitely the kind of people who deserved a good head pat and some treats.


    ¡°I do have a question: Why did you all agree to it being called the ¡®Terran Alliance¡¯. Naming such a grand alliance after one species sounds a little¡­ arrogant.¡±


    Phalennia paused for a moment, as if she was trying to properly word her response.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not officially called that. Officially, it has no name.¡±


    Confusion. That wasn¡¯t the answer Zantari was expecting, leaving them with one singular question.


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Well, the original plan was for each species to suggest a name, then each of the members would vote on that name. This was a good plan, but didn¡¯t account for Terrans being¡­ Terrans. The Terrans¡­ failed to decide amongst themselves their suggestion for a name.¡±


    More confusion. How does an entire species fail to submit a name for an alliance that was presumably their idea?


    ¡°I ask again, how? How difficult could choosing a name be?¡±


    ¡°You really haven''t dealt with Terrans, have you? There are more Terran opinions than there are grains of sands on Jormangar. Asking a group of them to decide anything is a nightmare of contradictions and disagreements. From what I understand they are still trying to decide their submitted name, 60 years later. Last time I checked they were down to a mere 6 potential choices.¡±


    That¡­ that sounded absolutely adorable from the little primates. Zantari could imagine them now, arguing and being unable to work out a simple consensus for the simplest of questions, running around trying to decide amongst themselves. The Ghirlinn was starting to feel as if this entire endeavour had been a huge overreaction, an overabundance of caution. How could these cute little creatures, who couldn¡¯t decide a name and spent their time making friends, take any offence to the Ghirlinn?


    ¡°So you just called it Terran Alliance because¡­?¡±


    ¡°Well we had to call it something, and the Terrans are the common denominator of our alliance. The name just¡­ stuck. Just another oddity with the Terrans.¡±


    There was a pause as Phallenia seemed to¡­ inwardly sigh to herself at that statement. It was a small thing, hardly noticeable, but the sign of someone who had spent a lot of nights dealing with ¡°oddities¡±.


    ¡°So how has this alliance worked for the Ritilians? We Ghirlinn are very interested to hear how each member feels about this new Alliance with the Terrans.¡±


    Once again, the Ritilian diplomat took a moment to choose her words. The Ghirlinn were a powerful species, so it was strange seeing them taking such an interest in an alliance of species not at their technological level. Then again, what damage could being honest here actually do? Everyone knew about the Terrans, so it wasn¡¯t like she was sharing some deep dark secret.


    ¡°I could describe the increase in trade and technology sharing as advantages, but I feel that would downplay how much the Alliance has changed our thinking. Terrans are an impossible puzzle, as chaotic as shifting sands, never to be nailed down under one ideology or line of thinking. We¡¯ve had to draft a lot of new laws, especially around setting things on fire or attaching weaponry to inanimate objects. They can be rude, overbearing, loud, impossible to predict.¡±


    Phallenia took on a distant look for a moment, as if her bright yellow reptilian eyes were looking back at the many instances of such behaviours she¡¯d had to deal with from the Terrans, before finishing her statement.


    ¡°However, they are also enthusiastic, child-like in their curiosity about the galaxy. They will bond with anyone and anything. They celebrate and uplift our culture with enthusiasm, and in turn they change us, slowly, for the better. There are myths in our culture of helpful spirits, and that¡¯s what the Terrans are: Illogical, crazy, friendly fae. If you¡¯re ever in trouble, they¡¯ll be there. Holding something that they set on fire with one hand, the other outstretched in an offer of eternal aid and friendship.¡±


    ¡°The only regret the Ritilians have is that we didn¡¯t contact the Terrans sooner.¡±

 Why we said yes - Litorian Horde

    The sounds of fighting bellowed across the field as tens of people fought each other with various combat forms. The clash of weapons, as screams of exertion and pain were roared out into a grey cloudy sky. Victors and losers were made as multiple duels were being held, some by surrender, others by death. Corpses were scattered as far as the eye could see, over a field long since churned to mud during generations of fighting. Some of the bodies were centuries old, nothing more than fragile bones that shattered under Zantari¡¯s footsteps as they approached the meeting place. Others were freshly slain, laying where they had fallen mere hours or days before. The smell of death and decay hung rife in the air while various scavengers came to eat their fill of the morbid landscape.


    Zantari finally reached the top of the hill rose from the centre of the field, taking a moment to look at the chaos below him, while the Litorian diplomat they had come to meet slowly approached his location. This was where disputes were settled, and the Litorian Horde tested their strength against each other. This was also a location where deals were done and diplomacy was to be had. It followed a well-known rule amongst the Litorian Horde: All diplomatic talks had to be done on the battlefield.


    Zantari had been the most interested in speaking to this species. The Litorians were a giant mammalian race, although their dusty orange natural armour often gave them an insectoid appearance, their intersecting plates of chitin protecting them from head to toe with a barrier as tough as steel. Large sharp claws stood at the ends of powerful limbs, teeth set within a jaw that could break bone.


    Zantari watched two fighters in particular while they waited, the two combatants throwing themselves at each other with bladed weapons as they fought under a giant gnarled tree buried in the mud. One of the pair struck a final blow, slipping the tip of his sword in between his opponent''s plates of chitinous armour, shoving the weapon through the other¡¯s chest with a final moment of exertion. The loser gave a shocked silent gurgle, black blood pouring from the wound and their vicious bestial mouth, before collapsing dead to the ground.


    The victor didn¡¯t seem to care that much, leaving the defeated Litorian to lay in the mud with the thousands of other corpses that had been left to rot and decay over the centuries. What had their conflict been about? Territory? Ideology? Power? A mate? Whatever it was, to the loser it no longer mattered, because in Litorian society, whoever was right was whoever was strongest. As their saying went, ¡®Strength leads Strength¡¯.


    ¡°Welcome, powerful Ghirlinn representative. How can we serve ones of such strength? Are you here to finally take your place as our rightful leaders?¡±


    The Litorian diplomat stood facing Zantari upon the hill, dressed with a single bright blue ceremonial sash denoting them as an ambassador, holding a corresponding diplomatic mace in one hand. Not that she would ever dream of using it against the Ghirlinn, who had changed their appearance to dwarf the 8 foot tall Litorian: 11 feet of muscle, teeth, claws and spikes, purposefully put together to be the ultimate apex predator. Zantari knew how to deal with the weird quirks of the Litorian society, and making themselves physically intimidating was one way to deal with it.


    The Litorian Horde were a standard ¡®might makes right¡¯ warrior race, with a strange twist of not being hypocritical about it, looking honestly at their own power. Upon contact with the Ghirlinn, they had immediately realized the power disparity between the two races, and offered their own subjugation to the other as the weaker species. Which the Ghirlinn had politely but firmly declined.


    ¡°No, not that. I¡¯m interested in the Terran Alliance. I would not have seen your species as one to join such endeavours, and we are interested in how this came to be.¡±


    Zantari had talked with 4 species so far, all of which had stated the same things about the cute little Terrans: their friendship and desire to help all. The Litorian Horde didn¡¯t fit in with this view, an aggressive species who had once subjected and conquered several worlds. Had being the important word: Since joining the Terran Alliance, the Litorian Horde hadn¡¯t started a war for the last 40 years, instead returning all of their previously conquered planets. This was not what Zantari had expected to find.


    ¡°Our joining under the Terrans is simple: Strength leads Strength.¡±


    The Litorian said it simply, as if this explained everything, her words said with a conviction that left Zantari confused and checking the functionality of their translator. They waited a few more moments hoping that the diplomat would continue to speak, an awkward silence between the pair only being punctuated by the cry of someone below losing their claim of strength. Eventually, Zantari realized the diplomat wasn¡¯t going to provide any more information.


    ¡°That¡­ doesn¡¯t help. Maybe start at the beginning of your interactions with the Terrans.¡±


    ¡°Initially in our ignorance, we believed them weak. They had befriended and allied with a species within our initial claim of conquest. They disagreed with our right to their lands. We did not believe them worthy of such a claim, but gave them the opportunity to prove us wrong. And so they sent a diplomat, not a snivelling weak willed man of only words like most species would, but one who showed a strength of their own. One called Mr. Ket.¡±


    The name was spoken with reverence, as if talking about a great man, and Zantari couldn¡¯t help but wonder what the adorable little primate had done to convince this warrior race to change so drastically. A message of friendship and freedom so moving it changed these people? Zantari didn¡¯t have to wait long as the Litorian ambassador pulled out a small soft-light holographic emitter, continuing to talk as she turned it on.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°Mr Ket initially tried to convince us otherwise with words, like any other pathetic diplomat might. When we would not listen to mere words, he challenged our then leader, Head Warrior Kuln, to a claim of strength. We did not decline of course, as any and all may make such a claim, although most would not survive the process.¡±


    The hologram showed a smaller view of the same hill the pair were currently standing on, the recording of a meeting between Mr. Ket and Head Warrior Kuln, both armed with a mace and staring at the other. Even this rougher, tougher looking Terran was adorable, his bulky muscular form squeezed into the smart black suit he wore. His body language took on a motion of¡­ boredom, glancing at Kuln with an air of irritation.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have to do this, you know,¡± Mr Ket spoke with an annoyed tone.  ¡°This is all very silly.¡±


    The only response from the Litorian was a snarling growl, before launching themselves at the Terran.


    Zantari wondered how the precious little primate was going to deal with this. Perhaps they¡¯d tire the larger beast out, staying out of range before convincing them with a speech of friendship? Or some other clever ruse to get the warrior race to see the error of their ways?


    Much to the Ghirlinn¡¯s horror, Mr Ket did neither of those things. Instead, the Terran used their more agile nature to beat the ever living shit out of their opponent. With a level of alarm and disturbing ferocity, Mr Ket danced around their foe, dodging every swing by their opponent all the while dealing destructive blows to joints and limbs, focusing on the body and head as soon as Kuln¡¯s own mobility had been compromised and he buckled. It was like watching a puppy tear apart a nest of rats, a morbid contradiction of the Terrans¡¯ outward appearance as they slowly wore down the Litorian with cruel precise blows.


    How could something that cute also be this vicious?


    Eventually Mr. Ket stood victorious over a nearly dead Kuln, breathing heavily, mace dripping with black blood, a few cuts and scratches from errant claw swipes covering his now muddied suit. Mr Ket took a moment to spit out a mouthful of crimson blood, before turning to look at someone not in view of the recording.


    ¡°OK, I¡¯ve done your stupid ritual thing. Now can we talk?¡±


    The recording ended, leaving Zantari a little bit shaken, as the Litorian diplomat spoke once more.


    ¡°After proven their claim of strength against our strongest warrior, Mr Ket declined the offer to kill and eat Kuln and his offspring. The Terrans also refused to take their rightful place as masters of the Litorian Horde.¡±


    There was a twinge in her voice that suggested she was exceptionally offended at the idea of a species this strong refusing to lead them.


    ¡°So we did the only acceptable move. We let them subjugate us with their rules. We gave up our conquests, changed our laws, and joined their Alliance. The Terrans showed their strength, so we let them lead us as much as they were willing, which is glaringly not as much as their strength deserves.¡±


    That was¡­ something. It explained the changes to the Litorian Horde that Zantari had seen, but at the same time to give up what they¡¯d been fighting over for the last twenty thousand years, all in the blink of an eye and over only one battle. Zantari had never truly understood the mentality of the Litorian Horde, and even now they felt confused.


    ¡°That must have been quite a change. Stopping your aggressive tendencies for over forty years. Has there been any regret to joining the Terran Alliance?¡±


    ¡°Oh, we didn¡¯t stop. We just adapted to the Terran way of doing things. Strength leads Strength. While the Terran Alliance does not officially get involved in war, the Terrans are warriors at heart. Private military organizations have aided in the rebellion of many aggressive governments who refuse to diplomatically deal with the Terran Alliance. Aid convoys and charities need protection, and the Terrans¡¯ hatred for slavers is well known. As long as you follow Terran sensibilities around war and allow them to create the strange concept of ¡®democracy¡¯ where they are victorious, the Terrans are very happy to let you fight for the ¡®right thing¡¯. Unofficially, of course.¡±


    There was a joy in the Litorian¡¯s voice, as if relishing in the memory of previous battles under such circumstances, the body language of the diplomat becoming more energetic as she spoke.


    ¡°If anything, joining the Alliance has increased the frequency of such tests of strength. To be led by ones of strength is to be strong yourself. This is seen with the Estorian war. It was inevitable, the Terran drive for power requires them to ¡®fix¡¯ the universe where they see it. The Estorians are diametrically opposed to the Terran ideology, so the war was always going to happen, a great battle, a glorious test of strength. Alone the Litorian Horde could never go up against such a grouping, but under the ferocity of the Terrans we are made stronger.¡±


    Zantari felt a little shaken, his mental image of the Terrans shifting wildly as the diplomat sung their praises. The Ghirlinn looked out upon the battlefield below them, at the sights of battle: of victories, of surrenders, of death. They had wondered how the Litorian Horde had been changed in such a manner to allow them to join this Terran Alliance of supposed peace. But this species hadn¡¯t been changed at all, merely slightly moulded into something slightly less destructive, somehow finding a spot amongst this group of species who allied with the primates.


    ¡°Terrans hide their strength behind honeyed words of weakness, but strength they have and strength they are. They hide their history of warfare and violence, as if it is a great shame, but deep down they are a species of warriors. Proud, willing to fight for what they believe in, with a determination to change the universe until it yields to their view. This is why the Litorian Horde joined the Terran Alliance. Strength leads Strength.¡±


    The way this diplomat spoke of the admittedly still adorable Terrans made them sound like a stubborn unstoppable force of nature. Zantari could still see visions of one of their diplomats beating a Litorian half to death with nothing more than a mace. This wasn¡¯t the cute, friendly primates the other species were describing. This was a species whose first reaction to seeing a heavily armoured apex predator larger than they were, was to hit it with a mace. Sure, they would never be a threat to the Ghirlinn due to the technological disadvantage, but Zantari didn¡¯t want the Terrans to hate them and aggressively try the same strategy once members of their species started trafficking Terrans.


    These Terrans are stranger than I thought. This situation might be more complicated than it seems.

 Why we said yes - Parket

    ¡°No talking, drink first. Then our boring talk. But first, drink!¡±


    Zantari looked down at the shot of alcohol that had been placed in front of them before staring across at the other diplomat, the brightly coloured red and yellow bird taking her own shot with the confidence of someone who had spent a lot of time downing drinks at diplomatic functions.


    The Parket had a simple rule of diplomats, politicians, lawyers and all manner of ¡®boring¡¯ jobs. All of them were bastards who lied to get what they wanted, but it was way harder to lie through your beak when slightly drunk. Thus, anyone in any such position must legally start their work with a drink, and this was a requirement for all ambassadors regardless of species.


    Zantari didn''t know any of this, however. Zantari didn''t know much about the Parket in general, since the avians were a very small player in the galaxy at large, having had no real major impact on anything outside of their small group of allies. Whatever the Ghirlinn had been expecting, it wasn''t this.


    Zantari had been inside a lot of diplomatic meeting rooms over the years, especially since their meetings with anyone outside of their own species was a major event for the other party: Being visited by someone with the technological ability to move planets was both a threat and an opportunity. Most locations followed the same pattern: Either trying to be as neutral and boring as possible, or a grandiose display of power and wealth to overstate their species¡¯ importance. This location was neither.


    Miles of rolling coastline stretched out in front of them, waves forming on this spotless beach, a perfect, warm day that gave promises of sunbathing and ice cream. Hundreds of Parket could be seen, relaxing on the sands or swimming the ocean without a care in the world. A flock of tiny fledglings played and fought with each other not too far from Zantari''s position, their squawks and chirps sounding out along the beach.


    A small table lay in the sand, around which the Ghirlinn and Parket diplomats both sat, both sitting on perches as Zantari had taken the form of an avian once again. The sound of a beachside bar making drinks could be heard in the background, all while noisy birds shouted orders amidst the clatter of ice being shaken as a cocktail was made.


    If the Ghirlinn didn''t know any better, they could have sworn that the Parket diplomat had taken them to a beachside pub to have this very important meeting. Zantari looked down at the shot of alcohol placed in front of them, giving a shrug, before downing the entire thing in one go. A fruity taste, with a strong after burn that betrayed its very potent alcoholic content.


    This seemed to make the Parket happy, who finally stopped ordering the next round of refreshments and began to focus on the meeting at hand, although not before pouring and drinking another shot from the bottle that stood in front of them.


    ¡°So, greetings Mr¡­ I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met honestly, looking back at the records you guys last contacted us over 300 years ago. Not sure what you¡¯d want to talk about since your technology is basically magic, I¡¯d have thought you¡¯d be too busy making black holes to chat.¡±


    The Parket diplomat shouted the words in an excited stream of consciousness, even this ¡®restrained¡¯ ambassador showing glimpses of the stereotypical chaos the avian species were well known for. It was one of the reasons the Parket weren¡¯t well situated within galactic politics, with a lot of species considering them ¡®annoying¡¯ and ¡®impossible to work with¡¯.


    ¡°We are doing an audit of this area of the universe, and are interested in learning about this Terran alliance you have joined.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you wanna know about the Terrans? Oh, thank god, I thought you wanted to talk about boring shit like trade deals or something! Yeah, I can tell you about the alliance, heck, telling you about the Terrans is even easier because they are the alliance, they are why we joined.¡±


    The Parket was suddenly more alert, giving happy chirps as they downed another shot, leaving Zantari worried about the avian¡¯s mental capacity going against the intoxicating substance.


    ¡°So, the simple answer: Terrans are awesome. Yeah sure, they¡¯ve got that weird freaky primate stuff going on, but as long as you don¡¯t have Primasaphobia you can easily look past their weird gait because, again, Terrans are awesome.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Zantari couldn¡¯t help but silently fume at the idea that the adorable little primates could be seen as anything other than adorable, the Ghirlinn immediately deciding they didn¡¯t like this avian race because of it.


    How dare they call something that cute ¡®weird¡¯.


    ¡°Most people are boring. The Parket entered the universe and found everyone so dull, constantly making dumb dull statements. ¡®Don''t just put that thing in your beaks!¡¯, ¡®Why is the building on fire!, ¡®Nuclear payloads are not acceptable firework material!¡¯¡¯


    The Parket gave a groan as he spoke, seemingly reliving his job as a ¡®boring¡¯ diplomat for ¡®boring¡¯ people.


    ¡°We thought the Terrans were going to be the same, I met with their ambassador, a woman by the name of Lin, right where we are now. I was ready for the standard boring talk about trade and movement agreements, just part of the job. Instead she immediately downed three shots, looked at me, and asked if there¡¯s anything cool to do on this planet.¡±


    Zantari remained silent as they let the Avian continue their barrage of information, their mind going to the idea of a drunk little primate looking for activities to accomplish.


    Well that just sounds cute, a little stumbling drunk Terran looking for fun things to do.


    ¡±I can¡¯t remember half of what happened after that because there are a lot of fun things to do on this planet, but what I do remember is how¡­ full of life the Terrans are. We¡¯ve got this saying in our species: A morning song is only heard once, and they of all people know what that means!. Lin didn¡¯t talk about boring stuff, instead focusing on what¡¯s important. Trade deals and agreements can be hashed out at any time, but learning about each other, making an impression, understanding the craziness people can bring, that¡¯s what matters in a relationship between two cultures!¡±


    ¡°So you joined a giant alliance because a Terran¡­ got drunk with you?¡±


    Zantari couldn¡¯t hide the confusion in their voice, not fully understanding how turning a diplomatic meeting into a drinking session could be considered a success. This response causing the Parket to give another trill of exasperation.


    ¡°Because Terrans get how to meet with people. I understand they wouldn¡¯t do this with any other species, but that¡¯s what makes them great. They don¡¯t look down on us like you are doing now, they embraced us for who we are, like they embrace everyone for who they are! Then they mix all those parts together into something better and stronger. Do you know how many new extreme sports they¡¯ve introduced to us, mixing stuff from the rest of the alliance? How many exciting new species we¡¯ve met thanks to them being the joining feather?!¡±


    The Parket was practically shouting at this point, taking a moment to compose themselves, lying back in their chair, breathing heavily and leaving Zantari a little shocked at the passion the avians talked about the Terrans. They finally gave a sigh, fluffing out their feathers and looking apologetically back at the Ghirlinn.


    Whether you find them adorable or not, everyone seems to have a strong opinion about the Terrans.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I went off on a tangent there. It¡¯s just hard to overstate just how much they¡¯ve impacted us. We¡¯re even considering starting our own AI project, following the Terran¡¯s lead of giving them no limitations. To be frank, we consider the strange primates to be our lost siblings amongst the stars.¡±


    Yet another species singing the praises of the Terrans, yet another reason why. Zantari started to notice the emerging pattern from each of the meetings: The pure evangelical way they preached about the adorable little primate¡¯s impact on their species. Each one having a different reason to ally with them, but each one being as positive as the others at the impact on their lives.


    A small picture of why the Terrans had managed to gain so many allies was starting to form in the Ghirlinn¡¯s mind.


    ¡°No problem. We are actually interested in the Terrans, since they seem to be the lynchpin of this new galactic power. Please, what are your thoughts on them?¡±


    ¡°People get confused by them, but Terrans are easy to understand. They¡¯re explorers, much like us. Not of physical locations, although some of them do like to wander where the winds take them. No, they¡¯re explorers of experiences, of cultures and people, willing to accept anyone and anything. They¡¯re the best parts of everyone they meet, being made up of the allies and friends they make, and in turn making those allies and friends greater still. Terrans will do anything for new experiences, and it¡¯s awesome.¡±


    That¡­ that made a lot of sense. Zantari started to muse over the problem of the Terrans, and attempting to work out who they were. They were fighters to warrior races, intellectuals to scientifically minded species, and fun-loving primates to the Parket. They were what they needed to be with each individual species.


    The Ghirlinn reached for the bottle, much to the Parket¡¯s surprise, and poured themselves another drink. They needed it, because even with the revelation this still opened up a completely different mystery to solve: why would they go to such trouble to bring these vastly different groups together under one banner, to act so differently to gain so many new allies?


    And it still doesn¡¯t tell us how they¡¯d interact with us after our citizens start causing issues¡­.

 Why we said yes - Jkugar and Yuur

    ¡°Uhm¡­ Am I in the right meeting? I was scheduled to meet with the Jkugar ambassador. If I¡¯m interrupting, I can wait.¡±


    Zantari asked the question with a level of concern and confusion in their voice, the Ghirlinn in their near default reptilian form, sitting on the lightly padded seating upon the Jkugar space station. The station and the meeting room weren¡¯t anything special, when you¡¯ve seen one lightly decorated room, you¡¯ve seen them all. Although the Jkugar tendency to use glowing crystals as decorations instead of houseplants was mildly interesting.


    What was special, interesting, and out of the ordinary, were the two figures seated across from them, who had both entered at the same time with a surprising level of aggression. The first was the person Zantari had been expecting to meet: the Jkugar ambassador. The Jkugar were a species of mollusc: A relatively large one standing around three feet wide, their entire beige body hidden under a giant bright orange spiky shell. Only a few of their several leg-like appendages were visible below, and their two eyes protruded out of the top of their protective covering on the ends of stalks.


    She was exactly as Zantari had expected, ¡®dressed¡¯ in the standard professional attire of various rocks, gems, and other pieces of precious metals grafted to her shell, creating a shiny glittering display popular amongst the species. No, that was perfectly expected, what wasn¡¯t expected was the person who stood next to them.


    ¡°Oh, I know what this devil creature has done to the poor, honourable Ghirlinn diplomat. Did you not think I¡¯d realize what you were planning, spinning silken lies of treachery and deceit with your soft-spoken silvery tone?¡±


    The Yuur were a species of turtle-like reptile. Heavily armoured, thick plates of dark green keratin created a fortressed ball of interlocking plates, out of which smooth flippers and a tiny head suited for their natural aquatic environment poked out. Tiny red eyes and a strong jaw that could bite through bone and shell alike adorned his face. This ambassador was also dressed in the Yuur¡¯s standard attire: Extravagant pure white silks whose frills and fabrics billowed in the air as the diplomat spoke, their head bobbing dramatically with each word.


    That was a Yuur. In the same room as the Jkugar. Zantari thought they had seen everything, but right in front of him was a Yuur and a Jkugar, standing in the same room, less than 2 feet away from each other, and nobody was trying to murder anyone¡­ To Zantari this was¡­ unthinkable.


    The last the Ghirlinn diplomat had checked, around fifty years ago, the Yuur and Jkugar had been engaging in a general cultural and literal war of genocide for the past 300 odd years. Both claimed the other had started it, both committing atrocity after atrocity against the other. It was fascinating, in a morbidly depressing way; how both sides had popular food items made out of the other species, yet both sides believed themselves to be the victims. Who exactly had started the war and why was unknown, and at this point not really relevant.


    The entire concept of these two species being in the same Terran Alliance had been shocking to Zantari, but seeing it in action, seeing these two within striking distance of each other and not trying to gouge each other¡¯s eyes out was¡­ weird. Like returning home for the first time in years, and finding the shady alleyway where drug deals had once been done was replaced with an artisanal muffin store.


    ¡°We are allowed to have diplomatic discussions with other species. Not everything is about you!¡± The Jkugar responded back with venom, turning her eyestalks to glare at the Yuur before looking back apologetically at the Ghirlinn. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about this, our agreement means he has the right to be at this meeting. We are going to have to accept the presence of this strong brute.¡±


    ¡°I can reschedule, if that helps.¡± Zantari awkwardly responded, feeling the most uncertain they had felt for the last several thousand years. ¡°I¡¯ve got plenty of time.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense! We were scheduled to convene upon a later date regardless.¡± The Yuur responded, with gusto. ¡°I¡¯m sure my diplomatic counterpart would have ¡®blessed¡¯ us with her presence, attempting to drive your intellectual understanding of our discussion to unfathomable ignorance through her sultry temptatious lies.¡±


    ¡°As if I want to remain within your intoxicating aura of depravity!¡±


    The two were now fully focused on the other, completely ignoring the Ghirlinn diplomat and facing up mere inches away from each other in anger. Zantari assumed it was anger, since the Yuur¡¯s skin upon his neck had started reddening, which was a sign of rage. Well, it was also a sign of another emotion, but it was definitely not that.


    ¡°Excuse me.¡± Zantari gave a small polite cough, the two other diplomats finally breaking their attention from the other to focus on the person who had put this meeting together. ¡°I¡¯ll make this quick, but my government is doing an audit, and wishes to know: How exactly are you both within the same alliance, considering your history.¡±


    ¡°Terrans.¡±


    They both responded at once, before the Jkugar added more context.


    ¡°The Jkugar were contacted by several Terran charities after a tragic and unwarranted attack by the Yuur. Together our species bonded as they offered, the primates are strange, but militarily powerful, technologically advanced, and willing to help anyone. Soon, Terrans from these charitable organizations became popular figures in our culture, as they rebuilt our hatcheries and aided our defences, especially with our shared love of gems and precious metals that glow in the light.¡±


    ¡°You tricked them with falsehoods and lies of deception, whispered devious words of political chicanery! Fortunately, the Terran were also aiding us. Several merchant companies of theirs began regularly trading with us when the Jkugar mercilessly burned a large quantity of our food production, leading us to certain famine had they not intervened. Their technology and industrial power was obvious, and soon in certain sectors of the world it wasn¡¯t an uncommon sight to find a Terran facilitating trade of off world food and goods. Like with any reasonable species, we soon struck a friendship.¡±


    The two calmed down for a moment as they spoke of the Terrans and their meetings with the individual, for a moment forgetting the presence of the other in the room. Not that this peace would last for long, as the Jkugar diplomat spoke once again.


    ¡°As they befriended us, the Terrans learned of our fight with the Yuur brutes, the pain they wrought upon our people. Terrans do not like bullies, and they offered aid in ensuring such a thing would never happen again.¡°


    ¡°You mean the Terrans learned of our truth, the actual truth, and offered their aid in defeating the slayers of our children. The Terran merchant companies offered to help us remove the Jkugar butchers, in exchange for trading rights. They added strength to our weakness.¡±


    ¡°Please, as if ones of such brutish strength and power as yourself could ever be considered weak!¡±


    Once again the two were metaphorically at each other¡¯s throats, both very different species doing their best to stare each other down. Their feelings for the other clearly more important than the meeting they were having with one of the most technologically advanced species in the galaxy.


    Just what exactly is the deal with these two, it¡¯s as if I¡¯m not sitting here in front of them.


    ¡°So, you both asked the Terrans for aid,¡± Zantari once again interrupted, harshly attempting to get their attention back onto them. ¡°What happened next?¡±


    A pause. The shame covering the body language of the two diplomats was obvious as both the Jkugar and Yuur looked to the floor and shrunk inside their protective coverings, for the first time not glaring at the other in rage or spitting insults in their direction.


    ¡°There was¡­ nearly a tragedy.¡± The Jkugar started.


    ¡°A most catastrophic fortuitous happenstance, the Terrans are not a unified hive mind. While one organization was conversing and providing aid to the Yuur, another was being lied to by the Jkugar.¡±


    ¡°We did not lie about your evil!¡±


    ¡°The only treachery was not from our quarters! Although, the Jkugar is somehow correct. Both the charitable and merchant organizations we beseeched for aid found sympathy with our causes.¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Both sent their armed forces to maintain peace, and very nearly engaged each other. It was only stopped by chance at the last moment. We never wanted the Terrans to get hurt, not when they had shown us friendship and aid without question.¡±


    For a moment Zantari¡¯s thoughts were no longer of the two weird ambassadors, now thinking of the Terrans. It was kinda adorable, thinking of the funny little primates rushing in without properly checking the situation. An urge to protect them from themselves filled Zantari, only curtailed by the fact they are sentient beings.


    Instead, they settled for asking a question.


    ¡°So how did the Terrans react to this?¡±


    ¡°Badly,¡± the Yuur responded, shame still in his voice. ¡°They informed us that until a peaceful resolution to the conflict was settled, that they would refuse to entertain any diplomatic enterprises with our peoples.¡±


    ¡°We attempted to explain the fault of our war lay with the Yuur, but they didn''t care, they would be cutting off all contact until the issue was solved.¡±


    It was a hate filled war lasting centuries. There is no way it was that simple to end it.


    ¡°And you just did? After all this time.¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± the Jkugar responded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. ¡°We had no choice. If the powerful and brutish Yuur allied with the Terrans before us, we would be doomed. Also, many of their species had become close friends and public figures of adoration. The risk of not stopping the war was too high.¡±


    ¡°Us?! Your species are treacherous deviants who speak whispered soliloquies of deception! Although we had a bigger issue. Their merchants had become a critical part of our economic system. Replacing them would take too long and cause such a shock that we would be unable to defend ourselves should the Jkugar attack! They are the ones most likely to turn the Terrans against us, and drive us to extinction!¡±


    The two were once again shouting, their heads pressed against each other in rage, or what counted for a head at least. Zantari couldn''t help but feel like a third party to this conversation, even though they were the ones asking questions.


    ¡°Excuse me! Over here, both of you, we are still talking!¡± The Ghirlinn felt anger and annoyance enter their voice as they once again broke up the arguing pair. ¡°So, to continue my questions: How has your peace worked out?¡±


    There was a moment¡¯s pause, both diplomats taking a moment to think about this query, finally bringing their attention off of each other and back to the person they were having a meeting with.


    ¡°It¡¯s gone well, I guess.¡± The Jkugar answered slowly ¡°Peace hasn¡¯t been something we¡¯ve had for a while, it has been nice for the next generation not to have to worry about war, especially with the Terran Alliance agreeing to enforce the peace as long as we¡¯re not the aggressors.¡±


    ¡°For once, I concur.¡± the Yuur agreed with a slight nod of the head. ¡°Our economy is recovering, and the societal impact of not requiring an indefinite military response has allowed investment into previously neglected problems.¡±


    For a moment the room was at peace as both reflected on the positive impact of the end of their forever war, the improvements to both their peoples and societies, when hate was exchanged for understanding and peace.


    This didn''t last long as the Yuur added an extra verbal jab at the other.


    ¡°This is why we endeavour to always be present at any experience the Jkugar arrive at. To ensure their devil song of temptation cannot gain root and ruin this.¡±


    ¡°Us! You are the ones most likely to be a danger to the Terrans, with your brutish powerful strength, that¡¯s why we make sure to follow the Jkugar wherever they go!¡±


    ¡°The only danger here is your bejewelled shell and bewitching words swaying those with less mental fortitude!¡±


    Once again the two sides had started shouting, their voices raised, pressed up against the other as they stared their opposite down, breathing heavily as they continued to scream insults, once again ignoring Zantari.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m still here, can we-¡±


    ¡°If I¡¯m the only danger here, why don¡¯t you deal with it then!  You¡¯re saying with your thick carapace and mighty jaws you couldn¡¯t?!¡±


    Zantari was interrupted by the Jkugar, the Ghirlinn clearly forgotten by the two as they continued their argument.


    ¡°Oh maybe I should! Shatter you like a diamond, ending the incessant entrapment of your silvered words!¡±


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you!¡±


    ¡°Well maybe I should!¡±


    The two were grasping each other now, the lower appendages of the Jkugar wrapping around the flippers of the Yuur, both glaring at the other as they spiralled into anger, hate and aggression. They no longer cared about the Ghirlinn in the room, instead focusing their entire attention on their feelings of disgust for one another.


    Well¡­ assuming it is ¡®hate¡¯. It might be¡­ no, no, no. Eww. No.


    Now that Zantari looked at the pair of quarrelling diplomats, their physical embraces weren¡¯t making any attempts to physically harm the other, and their insults were¡­ almost backhanded compliments. As if they were¡­ flirting. Zantari didn¡¯t want to ask the question, but they had to ask, to get some glimpse into why these two were acting so weird.


    ¡°Enough! Both of you!¡± The Ghirlinn screamed the words, changing their lung capacity to allow their voice to rock the room, the noise finally loud enough that both of the diplomats stopped focusing on the other due to the sheer volume. ¡°What exactly is going on here! I am very, very uncomfortable, but I have to ask: Can you focus here, or do you two need a private room as you¡¯re bickering like lovers!?¡±


    The effect was immediate, the two disentangling near immediately, looks of shame and worry washing over their respective body languages. They both stammered and stuttered out a denial.


    ¡°Of course not! To do such a despised thing would be- be entirely against morality!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not illegal!¡±


    Both the Ghirlinn and the Yuur stared at the Jkugar as she stood there, the words she said leaving them both speechless as everyone thought the same thing. The words ¡®It¡¯s not illegal¡¯ is not what¡¯s said by someone innocent. The tension remained in the room as the awkwardness continued to ratchet up while everyone tried to move past the moment, failing tragically.


    ¡°What she meant, is¡­ if such a thing were to happen, as, as unlikely as that is, that the...¡± The Yuur slowly tried to explain the Jkugar¡¯s misstep, clearly struggling to come up with a proper reason. ¡°.. you know, thanks to the Terran Alliance rules it would not be illegal, providing you with satisfactory evidence as to the impact of their enforced peace, answering your question!¡±


    As the Yuur diplomat picked up pace near the end, seeming to land on a possible explanation. It was clear, however, that nobody in the room was buying it; Zantari especially, who just remained silent. They were partially happy that the pair had stopped shouting and insulting each other, although they were very unhappy to realize why that had been happening. Unknown to the Ghirlinn, whose information on the pair of species was fifty years out of date, this kind of relationship wasn¡¯t uncommon, and was an open secret amongst the two societies.


    There was an agreement between the Jkugar and the Yuur governments, that whenever one appeared at a diplomatic or otherwise galactic event, the other side would also be allowed to attend: to ensure neither side was ¡®trying anything¡¯. This meant that over various societal functions, there were thousands of such pairings, each ensuring that both sides were represented in anything they did. Like all sapient species with any measure of sociability, lots of these pairs ended up¡­ liking each other. Friendships and relationships between the Jkugar and the Yuur would have been considered impossible a mere three decades ago, but now had become surprisingly common. Officially the two sides had to claim they still hated each other: for societal face-saving reasons.


    Besides, it¡¯s well known that hate and a taboo nature can make things¡­ interesting.


    Not that this information would have helped the poor Zantari, who frankly just wanted to leave, they wanted to do anything other than be in this room at this moment right now, with the level of awkwardness reaching practically lethal levels.


    Maybe I could use the creation engine to destroy the entire space station. Sure, it¡¯s illegal to do such a thing, but by god the authorities would understand when they feel how uncomfortable I am right now.


    Luckily for everyone involved, nobody else wanted to be in the room either. As all eyes remained on her, the Jkugar diplomat flat out bolted from the room without a word, determining that the best course of action was to simply leave everything behind. Maybe she could start a new life as a hermit on an uninhabited moon somewhere, where nobody could ever remind her of this scandalous embarrassment.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to- this meeting is- thank you for your time. You can see yourself out.¡±


    The Yuur was the next to leave, the turtle-like reptilian giving a few half-hearted statements before also fleeing the awkwardness. Zantari couldn¡¯t help notice that he left in the same direction that the Jkugar had gone. They then decided to not notice that any more, driving such a thought out of their mind lest it settle and destroy what sanity they had left.


    Now alone, the Ghirlinn gave a deep sigh, slinking deep into his chair as he breathed out all the uncomfortable anxiety that had been building up. It really was an impressive thing the Terrans had done here. These two species culturally hated each other, having committed atrocity after atrocity over hundreds of years. To be able to make them abide by a peace, willingly, to the extent where what just happened, happened¡­ This showed the impact that the Terrans had on the pair of quarrelling species. The impact that the cute little primates had on everyone they interacted with.


    Zantari just wished they didn¡¯t have to go through that ordeal to find this information out.


    I need a shower now.

 Why we said yes - Scythen

    ¡°Thank you for your time, you¡¯ve been very helpful.¡±


    Zantari gave a small wave with their amphibian arm to the Yunni diplomat: ¡°Trekn, Son of Trekn, born on the third rock along the river¡±. The frog-like creature did the same, their brightly coloured skin hidden underneath the suit that all Yunni wore when not on their home planet. It was less for their protection and more for the protection of everyone around them, since the amphibian species constantly secreted a toxic poison from their skin.


    Zantari was sort of lying as they left the meeting room on this neutral Federation space station, heading towards their vessel, on their way to yet another scheduled meeting. 35 meetings had been had, 35 species who all explained why they had joined with the Terrans, and the Ghirlinn still felt confused.


    No matter who they talked to, no matter the type of species, they all gave a different answer. Sometimes the Terrans were aggressive, other times peaceful. They would endeavour to travel the ends of the galaxy, or settle down and make permanent homes on alien planets. They offered a great amount of bureaucracy and stability where needed, but were also known for being chaotic and random. It felt like every single person Zantari had spoken to saw the Terrans differently. If they didn¡¯t know better, the Ghirlinn wondered if somehow 50 different species had all taken the name.


    At this point, Zantari believed that their meeting with the Terrans was probably going to go OK. Although they had never interacted with a species as advanced as the Ghirlinn, the Terrans seemed to have one central point of being liked by most people. The issue was, to a species as advanced as the Ghirlinn, probably wasn¡¯t good enough.


    When you can calculate the position and velocity of the entire universe to a Planck length and have the technological ability to play god, unknowns and probably¡¯s become a sea of indecision. The idea that something couldn¡¯t be planned out perfectly in advance was one that Zantari refused to accept. They could move planets and change reality, and these adorably cute and infuriating chaos primates weren¡¯t going to be the ones to add an element of unknown to the very knowable life the Ghirlinn lived in.


    ¡°Questioning statement: Zantari, just what exactly are you doing?¡±


    Zantari had been so engrossed in thought, they hadn¡¯t noticed the figure approaching from ahead, the electronic voice forcing them to snap out of their thoughts as their focus returned to what stood before them. The Ghirlinn had to suppress an annoyed groan as they saw the mass of tentacles that represented the Scythen.


    They ¡®stood¡¯ as all Scythens did, which is to say not at all. The Scythen were a strange species, not following the conventional rules of evolution, made up of a writhing mass of bioluminescent colour changing tentacles, as if a 3 foot ball of spaghetti was created by an aspiring artist. They rested upon a complicated floating metal disk that allowed the physically fragile species to move freely and communicate easily with the rest of the galaxy. The default Scythen language was a complicated thing involving colour changes and signing with their dozens of appendages, so a robotic translation into something more akin to speech was necessary for any Scythen to communicate with others.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean, I¡¯m just walking to my ship. Haven¡¯t seen you in a few hundred years <???>, how have you been?¡±


    There was a moment as Zantari adjusted their physiology to correctly convey the changes in colour that represented the Scythen¡¯s name: ¡®<???>¡¯. The amphibian¡¯s hand flashing with various colours as the Ghirlinn spoke. While the reacquaintance of the pair was tense, there was no harm in being polite.


    The Ghirlinn obviously knew about the Scythen species, as they were the closest thing to a near peer competitor in this galaxy. Probably would have been a superior species if their culture hadn''t taken such a disastrous shift after their mistake.


    ¡°More forceful statement: Do not change the topic. You have been taking an interest in our allies, I wish to know why.¡±


    Of course. Zantari knew that someone was eventually going to catch on to what they were doing. There were only so many times you could have a meeting with members from the same alliance before some of them started talking with each other. It was just a shame that such an annoying species had been the ones to work it out first.


    ¡°Can''t someone be curious about one of the fastest growing alliances I''ve seen?¡±


    ¡°Disbelieving statement: Curiosity doesn''t result in you asking about the Terrans to such an extent. I know what your species is like.¡±


    Zantari couldn¡¯t help but feel offended by that last sentence, annoyance running through them at the clearly disdainful way of referring to the Ghirlinn.


    ¡°I''m sorry, what exactly does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Providing examples: The time when a Ghirlinn convinced the pre-industrial revolution level species on ¡®4118.GH.A661F¡¯ that they were a god for over two hundred years. The Hagl-Zaf war where a Ghirlinn was supplying both sides with advanced weaponry to ¡®make things more interesting¡¯. The ¡®Q¡¯ situation, where a Ghirlinn would repeatedly abduct individuals from species who had just discovered FTL, and have them solve puzzles and challenges in exchange for aid. Need I provide more?¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    That was the issue with the Scythens being a near peer: they remembered all your dirty laundry, the stuff most others forgot over the thousands of years.


    ¡°None of those were legal or authorised by the government. They were punished, and their issues fixed accordingly. You know how it is.¡±


    ¡°Dismissive statement: No, I do not.¡±


    Of course the Scythens didn¡¯t. They were boringly serious, overly concerned with ensuring the mistake they¡¯d made so many years ago didn¡¯t spread any further. What was the point of having god-like technology if you didn¡¯t enjoy using it?


    ¡°Forceful statement: You never answered my question, why are you interested in the Terrans? Or should we tell them you are sneaking around spying on them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not spying! We¡¯re just¡­ Maybe we¡¯ll tell them that you could end this war with the Estorians in a day, and that their allies'' pacifism is all a bunch of shit because you messed up!¡±


    It was an empty threat of course, even if it was true. The fact of the matter was, the unofficial gentleman¡¯s agreement among species at this level of technological advancement was to avoid digging up each other¡¯s skeletons. Any species among the stars for the timespan required to hit this level of scientific knowledge, had a closet with a high percentage of calcium by mass and volume.


    ¡°Dismissive statement: You know why we don¡¯t do that.¡±


    Zantari did know. It was annoying as the after effects of their little¡­ issue caused a bunch of problems with half of the Ghirlinns¡¯ tech. Seeing causality shattered in such a way meant that you had to be careful when rearranging events without causing the entire thing to collapse in this local sector.


    ¡°You do know that our offer still stands, right? We can fix that problem. You wouldn¡¯t have to fear picking up a weapon.¡±


    ¡°Polite denial: Thank you for your offer, but we do not wish to take the risk. Our current path is clear and valid.¡±


    That was the issue with the Scythens. They were so risk-averse, they had the power of gods and chose to take the most stable path forwards instead of trying for the most freeing option. Sure, it miiight cause your entire species to spiral into extinction, but you¡¯d never see the Ghirlinn being so passive about such a problem if it impacted them so dearly.


    ¡°Query: You still haven¡¯t answered my question. What is your purpose with our allies?¡±


    Zantari paused for a moment, before giving a sigh. Yes, the Ghirlinn and Scythen were nothing alike in terms of personality. But at the end of the day, out of any species in this part of the universe, the person that stood in front of them was the most likely to understand exactly what they were going through.


    ¡°We¡¯re¡­ worried about how the rest of our population will react to the Terrans, and how they will react to us. These primates¡­ are adorable. We have no idea how the Terrans will react to the possibility of some of our less reasonable citizens abducting them.¡±


    The Scythen erupted into a kaleidoscope of flashing colours upon learning this news, something Zantari knew the meaning of well: Wild laughter.


    ¡°Emotion, wild laughter: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not funny! We don¡¯t want the Terrans to hate us because we¡¯re kidnapping their citizens because we find them cute.¡±


    ¡°Humorous mocking: You do not know how funny that statement is. We know something you do not know: we know how they will react, this is funny.¡±


    Zantari couldn¡¯t help but fume at this mockery, as if there was some joke being told that they weren¡¯t being let in on.


    ¡°It¡¯s still not funny! This is a legitimate issue that could influence our two species interactions and perceptions of each other for hundreds of years! If you know something you have to tell me!¡±


    ¡°Mocking and teasing statement: No! You can learn it on your own, especially since you never asked us for aid in this.¡±


    Zantari started to object to that statement, before stopping as they realized they didn¡¯t have a good answer. The Scythen was right, they had been one of the species the Ghirlinn hadn¡¯t set up a meeting with. It was just assumed that they wouldn¡¯t be helpful, due to their rampant risk aversion.


    ¡°Well, I thought you wouldn¡¯t answer! What are you even doing in an alliance with people of that technological level?¡±


    That was a good question. Normally species like the Scythen didn¡¯t get into alliances or deal with those on the same level as the Terrans. It just made everything¡­ too messy, too chaotic. Species at that level tended to do silly things like start wars or anger dark gods.


    The Scythen seemed to think for a moment, before starting to speak, deciding to stop the mocking to provide a small tidbit of information.


    ¡°Contemplative statement: I will give you that information, as it may be useful for your query. Unlike many other species in the alliance, there was no special event. They did not rescue us from slavery, or perfect a barbaric ritual. Nevertheless, we still allied with the Terrans because of one simple thing: They remind us of ourselves.¡±


    That was news to Zantari. How could these two species be even remotely similar? The Scythen were known for their pacifism and lack of risk, while everything the Ghirlinn had heard about them could be summed up as ¡°chaos primates¡±.


    ¡°Continuing statement: Curious, they seek friendship wherever they go, but have a vein of rage running through them. Watching them interact with the universe is like watching a younger version of ourselves, one created before we broke everything. Seeing them make friends in a universe full of life is¡­ a glimpse into a future that wasn¡¯t to be for us. A broken mirror reflecting what might have been, if the galaxy hadn¡¯t been quite so empty when we got there.¡±


    There was a moment¡¯s pause as Zantari realized that this was all the information the annoying Scythen was going to give.


    ¡°Ending statement: I do hope that this was helpful, and you do not cause too many issues with our allies.¡±


    Like everything else I¡¯ve learned about the Terrans, it wasn¡¯t helpful at all!

 Why we said yes - Hatil

    ¡°Wait, let me see if I understand this?¡±


    Zantari asked the question with a level of confusion, their mammalian form¡¯s little brown floppy ears waving in a questioning motion. They weren¡¯t quite sure exactly what kind of story they were expecting to hear from the Hatil sat in front of them, but it hadn¡¯t been the one that had been told.


    The little cream-coloured teddy bear like Hatil diplomat was dressed in a nicely tailored navy blue suit.To the other Hatil, she looked distinguished and professional. On the other hand, any Terrans around would have considered her absolutely adorable, with a near irresistible urge to give the walking plush toy a hug. Zantari personally didn''t care what the Hatil wore, considering the Ghirlinn were a race that could now change their biology at will, with clothing as barely an afterthought..


    ¡°So, the Terrans reawakened from their stasis, and without doing any proper research, your people started a war with the explicit goal of killing every Terran you found.¡±¡±


    ¡°Yes, much to our eternal shame. We ignorantly feared the rise of a new AI race.¡±


    The Hatil were nothing special in the galaxy, hardly considered a FTL capable species. There is a flaw with the early type of FTL travel most species use, that while folding space to create a shorter path to travel through was efficient, there was nothing stopping you from appearing in the middle of something, often destroying both things.


    Most species realized the danger of any idiot with a warp engine being able to reappear within the core of your home world, and quickly developed disruptors to pre-fold space within certain locales to stop such a thing from happening. The Hatil had decided upon a different strategy: aggressive isolation, and demanding all other species avoid their small patch of space. After a thousand years, nothing really changed for them on the galactic scale. Sure, governments, language, and culture shifted, but all within their unmoving territory. The only reason they hadn¡¯t been conquered by another race was simply because nobody else wanted to risk being neighbours with an unknown AI species.


    ¡°So then you launch a surprise attack against several outposts and their diplomatic vessel, your only victories in the war mind you, as pyrrhic as they are. The Terrans, unsurprisingly considering that their AI had been researching and upgrading their technologies over the last ten thousand years, completely trash your armies, including destroying one of your colonies.¡±


    ¡°Completely justifiably of course, we were the aggressors against those who just wanted friendship.¡±


    That brought them to their next topics: among which included their technology. The station Zantari was at was a lot nicer than the Ghirlinn had expected from a Hatil maintained creation, with a far higher standard of technology than they remembered the little teddies having.


    Setting up the meeting itself had been slightly annoying, the military outpost at the edge of Terran Alliance territory being one of the few Hatil locations that didn''t have a major Terran presence. It was also a relatively new addition, proof of the Hatil¡¯s increased power and logistics to create such a place within the last three years. Zantari was just glad that the general power of the Ghirlinn meant that most diplomats would meet them at any place of their choosing, whether that was their homeworld, or a random isolated outpost.


    ¡°So after you attempted a war of eradication against the Terrans, and lost, they¡­¡± Zantari gave a sigh as they tried to get their head around it. ¡°Left you with full autonomy, provided aid for the war you started, shared their technology with you, and created a major galactic alliance around the pair of you, of which you are currently the second-largest military power?¡±


    The Ghirlinn were not sore winners, as they had plenty of experience with various weaker aggressive species who had tried to take them on for various reasons of religion, culture, or just pure arrogance. Slavery or eradication was more effort than it was worth, but at the very least the Ghirlinn would take their weapons and put them under new administration. For a few generations, until they learned ¡®Not to do it again¡¯. Sadly for the Ghirlinn, the fact that so many either didn¡¯t seem to learn or got worse in regimes afterwards didn¡¯t seem to connect in their mind.


    But the Terrans seemed to respond to the Hatil¡¯s poorly implemented attempt at genocide with an emotion of slight annoyance, giving the Hatil aid and uplifting them to a technology level that was above average in the Galaxy.


    ¡°No no no, the army is a new thing, and not permanent. As soon as the war is over, we will be dismantling our forces again. We have only militarized to aid the Terrans.¡±


    It was an impressive military, especially considering what Zantari had been expecting based on what they remembered of the Hatil. The fleet parked around this outpost was rather extensive: thousands of vessels, swarms of automated drones, more power than a lot of civilizations could muster. The idea that the Hatil would truly give up this power was one Zantari would have to see to believe, not that they cared that much either way.


    ¡°That''s not my question. My question is¡­ Why would the Terrans do that?¡±


    It was risky, illogical and adorable in equal parts, the little Terrans giving those who tried to kill them a metaphorical pat on the head and asking them nicely not to do it again. A burning desire erupted within Zantari, to protect the bumbling primates from their own naive actions.


    This was going to be a problem in the future, other Ghirlinn kidnapping Terrans to give them protection¡­


    ¡°I''ll be honest, we don''t know. The Terrans had every right to destroy us for our unforgivable actions, but they chose not to. All we can do is attempt to use their mercy and forgiveness, each day proving that choice was the correct one.¡±


    Naive or not, it seemingly had worked out for the Terrans. The Hatil were unrecognizable, their old culture, even down to their dress and names, assimilated and replaced by the Terrans. To turn an initial enemy into steadfast allies, in such a short period of time, was an impressive feat.


    Zantari would never get to finish that thought however, as an alarm sounded out, the sirens causing both parties in the meeting room to look around in shock. It took only a few moments for another Hatil to burst through the doors with an aura of worry, whispering something urgently to the diplomat as the Ghirlinn looked on.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, we need to cut this meeting short. I¡¯ve been informed of an incoming Estorian fleet.  I would advise you to leave immediately, I¡¯ll escort you to your ship.¡±


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s unfortunate, we¡¯ll have to continue this another day.¡±


    Zantari slowly got up, taking a moment to give a large and overexaggerated stretch, a feeling of annoyance and anger being hidden behind his careful appearance. They didn¡¯t like the Estorians. They didn¡¯t like any of the five races, bullies and generally nasty people didn¡¯t sit right with them at all. Unfortunately, Zantari couldn¡¯t get involved unless certain circumstances were met, the Hatil would be left to their own defences.


    Which was why Zantari was in no great rush to leave, because they had a plan.


    They followed the Hatil diplomat at a slow walking pace, being escorted back through the military outpost as chaos reigned supreme around them; various Hatil sprung into action, running to and fro, getting ready whatever tasks they needed for the upcoming defence, alarms still blaring as they prepared for war.


    ¡°Um, we should pick up the pace, I wouldn¡¯t want you to get hurt and the enemy is incoming.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m moving, we¡¯ll get there when we get there.¡±


    The Hatil diplomat was clearly worried and having the most professional panic attack in the universe, visions of what the repercussions would be if this diplomatic member of a technologically superior species were to be hurt, or even worse, killed. The Ghirlinn were a scary species from the outside; while nobody knew exactly what they could do, it was clear they were playing on another level. The Hatil didn¡¯t want to be responsible for one of their citizen¡¯s deaths.


    Zantari on the other hand, wasn¡¯t worried at all, walking along at a slow meandering pace as the Hatil lead the way with a panicked energy, painfully aware of every minute passing in this most terrifying and annoying of escort quests, turning back around to silently urge on the Ghirlinn to move a little bit faster. Not that they were planning on rushing away, just slow gradual progress to justify what was probably going to happen next.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Eventually, the pair made their way back to the small docking bay where Zantari had left their ship, a sea of moving Hatil getting ships ready and taking off with great speed. At the centre of it stood the Ghirlinn¡¯s vessel. It was small compared with the other ships parked in the bay, a simple one-seater vessel with some dimensional trickery to make it larger on the inside than the outside. Rounded off lines made of bright cream painted metal gave it the appearance of almost being drawn, flowing lines coming together into an oblong shape and the three points of the landing gear it currently stood on.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re here, I hope for your safe travels. If you leave now you should still be able to avoid the attack.¡±


    ¡°Certainly. Thank you for your time, and good luck with the defence.¡±


    Zantari did legitimately wish the Hatil diplomat success as they watched the panicked teddy bear rush off to wherever she was needed. Even if their plan didn¡¯t work, they hoped the Hatil would prevail against their foes, especially ones as terrible as the five races of the Estorians. Zantari couldn¡¯t stand slavers, but one of the more annoying sides of being neutral was remaining neutral.


    Sure, the vessel Zantari owned could easily take out the entire Estorian fleet, and within a week the Ghirlinn as a whole could destroy or subjugate all five ¡®empires¡¯: as if a set of species who had conquered less than 50 other races in total could be considered an ¡®empire¡¯. But there were rules to follow, rules that if broken could have wide-ranging consequences.


    Not that this meant that Zantari couldn¡¯t do anything. It just meant you had to know how to fiddle with the system, predict what people would do and act accordingly. The Ghirlinn sat in their ship, taking their time to slowly go through the proper taking off procedures while the rest of the Hatil outpost erupted into activity.


    ¡°This is Flight Control. The Ghirlinn vessel needs to leave immediately or you¡¯re going to be trapped in the crossfire. There are an estimated five thousand incoming Estorian warships¡±


    The sound of a very stressed Hatil flight controller broadcasted from the ship¡¯s communications, as Zantari continued to slowly get ready to take off. They ignored the very adamant warning that Zantari needed to leave right now. They knew what was approaching, in fact the ship¡¯s sensors gave an accurate reading of 5317 warship level vessels approaching. Based on what the Ghirlinn could estimate the battle would be close due to the similar resources of both sides.


    Normally the checks Zantari were doing were to be done by the ship¡¯s computer, but it was always a good idea to occasionally do these checks manually, just to be safe. As the minutes ticked by the ship¡¯s communicator would periodically sound out more warnings, presumably exceptionally worried about this external diplomat being caught in the attack. Which was exactly what the Ghirlinn wanted.


    Eventually, after wasting half an hour of time, Zantari ran out of reasons to remain. So they simply guided the ship to leave the docking bay, much to the Hatil¡¯s general relief. From this position they could see the relatively impressive military outpost, and the fleet preparing for their defences. More importantly, far in the distance on their ship¡¯s sensors, they could see the Estorian¡¯s fleet, who had arrived in equal measure.


    Zantari took a moment to note that the Estorian¡¯s forces were made up of four of the five races that made up their terrible empire, which was strange considering they avoided working with each other. Regardless, they simply sped forwards towards their destination, leaving the Hatil defensive lines behind and just so happening to travel towards the Estorian lines on their way towards their next destination, who were now blocking the Ghirlinn¡¯s path.


    Oh no. I am totally trapped by these people I don¡¯t like. Whatever shall I do!


    The first step was always diplomacy. Zantari hailed the lead vessel of the fleet to attempt a parley. With rising annoyance Zantari noted they were when they were refusing to respond to the hail, which was just rude. Giving sigh they pressed a few buttons, forcing the other side to pickup the call, a Hagorthian crew appearing on their screen, the giant towering vicious reptiles looking incredibly shocked that Zantari had forced this communication from their end.


    ¡°Hello dear Estorian representatives. I am a neutral third party diplomat, Zantari of the Ghirlinn, and have nothing to do with your war. I request you allow me to move past your very ¡®scary army¡¯, thank you.¡±


    Zantari wasn¡¯t really trapped, there were several technologies on the ship that allowed them to reach FTL travel without needing the Estorian fleet to move out of the way. But it was considered bad practice to use those technologies in front of other people. If you showed people that the impossible was possible, then they tended to start having ideas. Zantari patiently waited as the Hagorthian crew ignored their very reasonable request, snarling and shouting at each other at how this ¡®Weakling¡¯ had managed to infiltrate their systems, before the communication between the two was cut off once more from the Hagorthian¡¯s side.


    Most species, apart from the Terrans it seemed, were exceptionally predictable. In the Estorian¡¯s case, they were a set of aggressive arrogant slaving arseholes, meaning when faced with a single presumably defenseless third party with the audacity to ask for safe passage, they did the most predictable thing.


    They attacked.


    The barrage started out slow, a handful of vessels firing upon the lone Ghirlinn ship, increasing in intensity as the initial barrage of fire had no effect on the single person fighter. More and more of the fleet aimed their weapons at this single intruder which stood tall and unaffected, until half the invading force were concentrating their fire in a kaleidoscope of ship to ship ammunition.


    Inside the vessel, Zantari gave a yawn, watching the ship¡¯s status display with a complete lack of worry at the fleet who had attacked them with absolutely zero provocation.


    Shield¡¯s power: 99.9%


    Zantari gave a small smile as the effectiveness of their ships'' shields dipped slightly. This was what they were waiting for, that change meant that Zantari was officially ¡®in danger¡¯. That if left long enough, this fleet would eventually deplete their ship¡¯s defences and lead to destruction. The fact that this fleet probably hadn''t brought enough ammunition for that didn¡¯t matter. Zantari was under attack due to no fault of their own, was in danger, and therefore they were now allowed to strike back.


    Appearing in their paw, manifesting out of seeming nowhere, was a small chrome spherical baseball sized device. Zantari pressed a few hidden buttons on the side, before speaking clearly for later logs.


    ¡°Creation Engine usage log. I, Zantari, was at an official diplomatic meeting with the Hatil of the Milky Way Galaxy, interrupted when they were attacked by the Estorian Empire: with whom they are at war. I attempted to leave, but was limited in my movement by the attacking force. Ships logs will show I attempted diplomacy, which they rejected and attacked with no provocation, causing minor shield damage. Standard defensive response will be given.¡±


    It happened in an instant, a blinding flash of light seen for light-years emitted from the device and the Ghirlinn¡¯s ship. In one moment the Estorian fleet remained in all its glory, firing upon the innocent vessel, in the next, they were gone. Only the lead ship remained, as it was only fair to allow one surviving crew to bring back the message that the Ghirlinn were a neutral third party and not to be attacked.


    There were no series of explosions or watching the Estorian vessels be twisted and torn apart into nothingness. They were just gone, removed from creation in a moment, their atoms reduced back into the energies that made them up; leaving only heat, light and the memories of what they once were behind.


    It was annoying having to go through this song and dance, to bait this fleet into attacking them for no reason. Zantari would love to spend their time wiping out this ¡®empire¡¯, but there were rules to follow, rules made for good reason. Sure it wouldn¡¯t be hard to start aiding this Terran alliance, but then what?


    Others might get involved, once the Ghirlinn¡¯s actions told the universe that this war was fair game for those of their technological prowess to interact with. The Illundrai would probably be willing to aid the Estorians, due to their general ideology where pain and suffering was the entire reason for existence, which wouldn¡¯t bode well for the Terrans. The Yel Consortium would just change things on both sides to make it more chaotic, because randomness is interesting to them. Of course, while the Raha sun god Int¡¯ch had long since disowned her children for their actions, someone on the level of the Ghirlinn turning up and kicking her creation¡¯s teeth in might be enough to get her involved again.


    Then there was the possibility of such an action sparking into an actual war between such powers, which wouldn¡¯t bode well for either the Estorian Empire or Terran Alliance trapped in the middle. The entire upper percentile of the universe¡¯s powers was held together with tenuous agreements, treaties, and general rules of play. No, learning about the secrets of reality just made one thing abundantly clear: In the infinitely sized pond which was the universe, there was always a bigger fish. Attracting attention was never a good idea.


    Zantari watched as the lead and now singular Estorian vessel hung around in confusion, before finally doing the smart thing and fleeing, a feeling of satisfaction washing over them at the feeling of a job well done. They could see several attempts at contact from the Hatil, who were probably very confused as to what had just happened, which Zantari ignored. They didn¡¯t want to explain what had just happened, as that might start them expecting such interactions in the future.


    So instead, they just left, heading towards their next destination unimpeded, feeling good about themselves. There were plenty of reasons for Ghirlinn to hate the Estorians and what they did, especially since they were at war with the adorable Terrans. A concerning thought crossed their mind at the realization that a hated empire was going to end up even more hated among the Ghirlinn after they realized they were at war with the cute primates of Terra.


    Huh, I wonder if Ghirlinn illegally aiding the Terrans is going to become a problem¡­

 Why we said yes - Kruku

    The building was one of reverence, the air itself filled with the deep booming sensation of sacred energy. Stone pillars lined the giant halls, each one made of Iltrite: a black marble like substance that naturally formed embedded with precious metals. Each one was carved in such a way that they seemed to float in the dim light of the church, like stars in the night, as if the ceiling of this great place of worship was being held up by faith alone.


    Zantari slowly followed the diplomat? Priest? They seemed to be one and the same here. Whichever they were, the Ghirlinn walked behind the giant figure as they moved near silently towards their destination, passing others shrouded in the dark, hunched over altars or sat along rows of pews, only the soft sound of footsteps could be heard in such a silent sacred place.


    Eventually they reached the end of their journey, standing below a ceiling that stretched towards the sky with a glorious kaleidoscope of light streaming in through the thousands of stained-glass pieces. A spotlight from heaven seemed to shine upon the pair, a column of illumination in an otherwise dark building. Looking up Zantari could see the figures and pictures built within the glass, of gods and devils they didn¡¯t recognize, of demons from the stars, and prominently placed within it all; representations of Terrans.


    ¡°So what can I do for you, my child?¡±


    The words were spoken slowly, deep and booming from the large figure that stood robed in front of the Ghirlinn. Just over 9 feet tall: bulky, wide, strong, as all of the Kruku were. Deep grey skin covered the entire person, from his three large stubby fingers, all the way down to their giant padded feet. A single emerald eye, two giant ears and a large curled trunk made up a face that poked its way out of the bright green and gold ceremonial robes.


    Zantari gave a small respectful bow, their own figure just as large, hoofed and lumbering in a non-threatening way. Even with the long flowing religious coverings, Zantari could see previous injuries: dull white lines, scars criss-crossing themselves over the dark grey skin, telling a story of a time not quite as happy as this one.


    ¡°Thank you for your time, I come seeking knowledge on the Terrans and yourselves, as we have no records of your species.¡±


    Zantari had no information about the Kruku, no databases outside a brief mention of their probationary membership of the Terran Alliance. From what the Ghirlinn could tell they were not technologically strong, not even FTL capable if Zantari had to guess. The single space station they¡¯d arrive via was clearly not of their own design; standing out like a sore thumb from the other multitude of towns and cities scattered around their singular home planet. The darkness from orbit told even more, with only a handful of their largest cities being lit up with electric lights. Zantari couldn¡¯t help but wonder how this species had managed to join this grand alliance.


    ¡°Ah. The Terrans. In order to tell the story of the little ones, one must first start at the beginning. One must first start with the demons. One must first start with the Raha.¡±


    Well that wasn¡¯t a good sign for the Kruku. Any story that started with the members of the Estorian Empire was not a good one. Zantari could already guess what the diplomat was about to say, although they weren¡¯t about to be rude and interrupt.


    ¡°A falling star is always considered a bad omen, a sign of displeased gods and woe to befall any kingdom who witnesses it, and this one was no different. They came from the heavens, two hundred and thirteen years ago they arrived, masquerading as angels but acting as demons. They call themselves the Raha, the masters, giant insects from hell itself. Weaker than us physically and morally, not that this mattered. When they arrived we didn¡¯t know of other worlds or of other species, astronomy was nothing more than looking up at the stars for navigation between towns. Our strength of flesh, mind, and steel was no match for the power of the demons and their stolen strength of gods.¡±


    It was both something that both happened often enough, but was also surprisingly rare. Pre-FTL civilizations were easy pickings for any space faring species who wished to conquer them, as even a simple spacecraft gave you the ultimate form of air control. Most of the time they were risk-free conquests, although simultaneously the gain from such a primitive world was never worth the risk of gobbling up a random lesser civilization.


    Most of the time they were just random pockets of life found on random planets, but occasionally they were someone else¡¯s property, which just wasn¡¯t worth the risk. A god creating a civilization in their image, an advanced species parting ways with a long forgotten colony and letting them grow on their own. Species who went around subjugating everyone weaker than them didn¡¯t tend to last long on a galactic scale, as eventually they¡¯d mess with the wrong person¡¯s ¡®kid¡¯ and get their teeth kicked in.


    ¡°They demanded our worship, our labour, our torment. The demons built their unholy factories upon our world and forced us to toil in them. They kidnapped us and sent us towards the stars, where they could play their cruel games and feast upon our despair.¡±


    Zantari couldn''t help but feel more disdain for the Raha. Once your technology level was multi-planetary, slavery stopped making economic sense. You could either feed and guard several thousand people to work in your factories, or have one person occasionally watching over automated systems which were far more productive. The only reason most space faring civilizations even had any jobs done by actual people was because having your entire population do nothing but live in luxury was a good way to drive yourselves extinct, after a couple generations of creating societal incompetence.


    To use slaves meant you were only doing it for the enjoyment of the pain, suffering and absolute control such a system required. AKA, you were being a bit of a dick.


    ¡°For over two centuries we tried to fight back, we tried to resist. Before becoming our people¡¯s representative among the stars, I aided our attempts of resistance, as futile as it was against the demons with such power. During those years we prayed to Laheh for salvation and aid, wishing for any answer to our cries of torment.  Eventually she did. Eventually she could take our suffering no more, and from the heavens descended her champions to save us: The little ones, the Terrans.¡±


    Of course, Zantari knew there was nothing divine about what had happened. The Terran Alliance were at war with the Raha, so attacking a planet they had conquered and were using as a source of labour made sense. Not that this distinction meant much as the Kruku told his story with the voice of someone who had told this tale to little Kruku children many times before.


    ¡°The Terrans might look childlike and innocent, but there is a righteous fire within them as they burn with Laheh¡¯s light. Four years ago they arrived, bringing with them a kind fury for our pain. The Raha had been our cruel masters for over two centuries, but their tyranny had been broken within two weeks. The demonic ships that had hung in our skies for so long were destroyed by the Terrans forces, their cruel watchtowers torn asunder. Just over three months is what it took for all of the fighting to finally conclude, their divine retribution completed, our world was ours again.¡±


    That sounded about right to Zantari. The Raha were well known cowards and bullies who fell apart when facing a ¡°fair¡± fight, choosing only to attack those they could either overwhelm with sheer numbers, or take on with a major technological advantage. It was no hidden secret that they were the weakest of the five armies of the Estorian Empire, and only really used as a ¡°buffer¡± for the other four. Everything the Ghirlinn had heard regarding the Terrans suggested the sweet little primates could easily take on the cruel slaving insects.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°So your past few years have been interesting, the Terran Alliance¡¯s governance must be more agreeable than the Raha?¡± Zantari cautiously responded. Describing the events of being liberated out of generation''s long slavery as ¡®interesting¡¯ was a polite way of talking about it


    ¡°The Terrans are as kind as their outward appearance. We would have accepted them as our new leaders for driving away the demons, but the little ones demanded that we stand upon our own two feet. They have guided us during this transition, sharing technologies, introducing us to the universe and its many secrets that the demons had kept from us. Giving us the tools to take charge of our own futures once again. Letting us meet with strange people such as yourself. Their adorable nature while guiding us has been helpful during this transition.¡±


    Zantari gave a moment¡¯s pause as the words the Kruku had used to describe the Terrans were brought to their mind. ¡®Little ones¡¯, ¡¯Childlike¡¯, ¡®Adorable¡¯.


    ¡°Adorable? Do you also find the primates cute as well?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t like being called primates. But to answer your question, how could we not? Even with the power and aid they¡¯ve given us, they still look like children who need to be protected; tiny, soft, wobbling around on those thin shaky legs of theirs. How could one not find such caring saviours as ¡®cute¡¯?¡±


    There was a moment¡¯s pause as Zantari realized that this species, with nothing of note to speak about on a galactic level, would be the Ghirlinn¡¯s best way to learn how the Terrans would react to their own feelings of adorableness to the chaos primates. These questions would remain unasked for a little while longer however, as the Kruku diplomat pulled out a small communication pad from a pocket within their robes, one of the most advanced pieces of technology for miles around glowing in a harsh contrast to the low tech religious building they were stood in.


    ¡°I have cute pictures of the Terrans, if you want to look.¡±


    Kruku diplomat had an advantage that most diplomats around the universe did not: He had no idea who the Ghirlinn were, and no idea of their power. The alien was just another strange face who had contacted their species in a long line of strange faces. So asking the alien with the power to bend space and reality to their own will, if they wanted to look at some cute pictures, was the most natural thing in the world for him.


    ¡°My goodness, yes!¡±


    The pair crowded around the small device held in the Kruku¡¯s stubby fingers, both of them cooing and looking on at pictures of the Terrans interacting with the Kruku over the last four years: Terrans wearing their giant robes, human soldiers riding on the backs of the giant natives of the planet, or moments of simple interactions between the two species. Occasionally the Kruku would quietly provide some information about a particular picture: The difficulty of tricking a Terran to wear a certain kind of dress, or some cultural context about a picture.


    At that moment, Zantari and the Kruku priest were not two ambassadors talking with each other within a building of great sacred importance. The stained-glass murals in the ceiling or the impressive pillars carved out of the Iltrite faded into the background as the pair did the most universally enjoyed thing two people can do while keeping their clothes on: Enjoy pictures taken of something adorably cute.


    ¡°So how do the Terrans react to you finding them cute?¡± Zantari eventually asked as the pictures ran out, forcing the pair once again to continue their discussion, the Ghirlinn still in a good mood after seeing the pictures of the adorable little Terrans.


    ¡°It varies. Most find it funny, a few are annoyed. Mostly it¡¯s fine. Just remember that Terrans are fiercely independent and don¡¯t mention their adorableness too much. Also, avoid kidnapping and imprisoning them.¡±


    There was a moment''s pause as the words of the Kruku diplomat took a moment to register with Zantari, absolute confusion in his voice as the Ghirlinn responded.


    ¡°Wait, how would you even know about that being a problem?¡±


    The Kruku took a moment, their eye squeezed shut and trunk curled with embarrassment.


    ¡°A passage from the Book of Edia: So the servant of Laheh appeared from the heavens, childlike and proclaiming her word, and her word was good. Edia was Laheh¡¯s favourite, upon which his heart trusted her guidance, and she trusted in his. The servant of Laheh spoke before Edia, ¡®Do not be filled with fear, I am Laheh¡¯s will and her will is absolute. You have spoken her words and I shall aid you in your time of need.¡¯ And this was good. Yet as days became nights became days, the works and words of Edia were not yet complete. So the servant of Laheh implored upon Edia a task of importance. ¡®The winds of heavens and earth will drive me back to Laheh¡¯s embrace, before our task is complete. You must build chains of gold and silver, two by four links, and embrace them around myself, so I may remain here until your work is done¡¯. And Edia did as he was decreed, and the servant of Laheh remained by his side unhindered by the winds of fate and heaven, and it was good.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I understand.¡±


    The Kruku gave a sigh, scratching their trunk in an anxious embarrassment.


    ¡°Especially in the more rural areas, when they saw the Terrans and their child-like visages descend upon them from the heavens and cast aside the Raha, many took them to be the literal servants of Laheh. Many others then tried to bind the Terrans in chains of whatever previous metals they could forge or find. The Terrans did not like this.¡±


    Zantari felt a little more urgency as they asked the next question, feeling as if their entire reason for going on these diplomatic talks were about to be answered.


    ¡°How do you think the Terrans would react if others of a greater strength than yourselves did something¡­ similar?¡±


    The diplomat paused for a moment, thinking back to their now numerous interactions with their divine saviours, their insistence of the Kruku solving their own problems and leading themselves out of the darkness that the Raha had enslaved them in.


    ¡°They value autonomy and freedom, over everything else. You could craft a cage with the finest Iltrite with chains made of the most precious metals, and they would still cut off their own arm before allowing themselves or anyone to be bound within them.¡±


    Well, that¡¯s not good to hear, because that¡¯s what a lot of Ghirlinn would like to do¡­


    ¡°Even if they were provided with aid and resources beyond their own power?¡±


    ¡°The worst thing you can do to a Terran is try to force them into doing anything. Even if it would be an action beneficial to them, or something they would wish to do normally, as soon as you try to bend their will to your own, they will fight back regardless of the reason why. It is in their nature. They are Laheh¡¯s will, and a god will not allow themselves to be chained upon a mortal¡¯s wishes.¡±


    Zantari gave their own forlorn sigh, feeling a lot less confident in what would eventually be an inevitable meeting with the Terrans, foreseeing that the entire thing would become a disaster as soon as various Ghirlinn started trying to forcibly ¡®aid¡¯ the chaos primates.


    ¡°That might be a problem,¡± Zantari said, gloomily.


    The Kruku diplomat did not know of the disparity between themselves, the Terrans and the Ghirlinn. The Terrans had the powers of gods, the idea of there being more than the force of nature who had saved them from the Raha was¡­ inconceivable. He didn¡¯t know of the importance of meeting with Zantari. If he did, he might not have offered the aid that he did, the idea that someone like the Kruku could ever help someone like the Ghirlinn would be insanity. All the Kruku priest saw was someone who shared their own adoration for the Terrans.


    ¡°Do not worry my child, I am here.¡± The Kruku placed a giant stubby hand upon the shoulder of Zantari. ¡°I will teach you everything I¡¯ve learned about interacting with the Terrans, and then you too can be enlightened by their gifts and kindness.¡±

 Why we said yes - Dunwilian

    ¡°?S?o? ?i?n? ?c?o?n?c?l?u?s?i?o?n?,? ?t?h?e? ?T?e?r?r?a?n?s? ?a?r?e? ?g?r?e?a?t?!? ?W?e?''?v?e? ?m?a?d?e? ?s?o? ?m?a?n?y? ?f?r?i?e?n?d?s? ?s?i?n?c?e? ?w?e? ?m?e?t? ?t?h?e?m?!? ?I?f? ?y?o?u?''?r?e? ?l?o?o?k?i?n?g? ?f?o?r? ?f?r?i?e?n?d?s? ?y?o?u? ?s?h?o?u?l?d? ?t?o?t?a?l?l?y? ?j?o?i?n? ?a?s? ?w?e?l?l?!?¡±?


    Zantari stood across from the Dunwilian, an anxious feeling of being trapped in the conversation building with each second. The Ghirlinn¡¯s form was relatively benign: their default state of a bipedal Reptilian in a deep red robe. This was in stark contrast to their conversational partner.


    The Dunwilian''s were not a conventional race. Many would call them strange, weird, unnatural. Meaner people would call them ugly. The humans even had a specific word: Lovecraftian. Ten feet tall, an undulating mass of bruised blueish-purple tendrils wrapped together like a slimy ball of hastily wrapped twine. A series of trunks, each with a gnashing maw of teeth at the bottom acted as their limbs for locomotion and finer environment interaction. Masses of deep red eyes were scattered across the entire thing; no matter where you stared, the creature looked back at you.


    ¡°Yes, yes. That¡¯s very nice. I¡¯ve got some place to be, so I¡¯ll think about it later?¡±


    Most species did not have diplomatic relations with the Dunwilians due to their off-putting appearance, their method of talking and entire state of¡­ everything filled your average three-dimensional being with terror, horror and dread. The Ghirlinn steered clear of them for an entirely different and less nasty reason: It was generally a good idea to avoid interacting or messing with species who had an external patron.


    The Ghirlinn didn¡¯t know much about the true capabilities of the dark gods which had birthed the Dunwilians, since working that kind of thing out was difficult when extradimensional beings tended to avoid such things like logic, the laws of physics, or reality itself. However, they did guess that for all of the Ghirlinn¡¯s power in their extensive universe-spanning civilization, that these beings could rend all of that to dust should they so choose. Or were allowed to, since the rules around when a being such as that could interact with the ¡®normal¡¯ universe were vague and unknowable to anyone with a three-dimensional mind or even three-dimensional computers.


    It was far less risky to just avoid interactions with such species, lest you anger something far greater than you.


    ¡°?O?h?,? ?b?u?t? ?I? ?h?a?v?e?n?¡¯?t? ?g?o?t? ?t?o? ?t?h?e? ?b?e?s?t? ?p?a?r?t? ?y?e?t?!? ?H?a?t?s?!? ?D?o? ?y?o?u? ?l?i?k?e? ?m?i?n?e??? ?I? ?t?h?i?n?k? ?i?t? ?l?o?o?k?s? ?n?e?a?t?!?¡±?


    Zantari had scheduled a great many interviews with the members of the Terran Alliance. This was not one of them, this meeting was entirely by chance. They had been visiting this Federation station while on their way back home to report on their findings on the Terrans, and had just so happened to run into a Dunwilian diplomat while wandering the halls. Zantari had then made a great mistake: They gave a small, polite greeting.


    This had given the Dunwilian ample excuse to launch into an unprompted and enthusiastic conversation about the Terrans and all of the new friends the Lovecraftian species had made after joining the Terran Alliance. For the last fifteen minutes, Zantari had been stuck here in this conversation, trying and failing to exit the social trap.


    ¡°Your hat is very nice. I really must be going now¡­¡±


    That was the one new thing about the Dunwilian''s appearance: the giant purple wool hat that sat upon the Lovecraftian ¡®head¡¯, topped off with a large white daffodil stuck to the side. Zantari had to admit it did soften the otherwise interesting appearance of the Dunwilian.


    ¡°?L?e?t? ?m?e? ?g?i?v?e? ?y?o?u? ?a? ?h?a?t?,? ?t?h?e?n? ?y?o?u? ?c?a?n? ?a?l?s?o? ?m?a?k?e? ?f?r?i?e?n?d?s?!?¡±?


    The Lovecraftian species took one of its trunks and lifted the giant purple woollen hat off of its head, revealing underneath another piece of headwear: A giant top hat made of bright pink felt. Enthusiastically the Dunwilian handed it over this smaller second hat to Zantari, who held it awkwardly while the diplomat made sure their original hat was put back properly into place, adjusting it from side to side, so the flower fell in just the right way.


    ¡°This is very nice, I guess, I¡¯m going to go find somewhere to put it on¡±


    Zantari started physically backing away slowly, hoping to physically escape the conversation. Thankfully the Dunwilian didn¡¯t follow, instead finally realizing the conversation was over.


    ¡°?Y?e?a?h?,? ?I? ?t?h?i?n?k? ?t?h?e? ?c?o?l?o?u?r? ?w?i?l?l? ?s?u?i?t? ?y?o?u?!? ?I?¡¯?l?l? ?l?e?t? ?y?o?u? ?g?e?t? ?o?f?f?,? ?o?r? ?I?¡¯?m? ?g?o?i?n?g? ?t?o? ?b?e? ?l?a?t?e? ?f?o?r? ?m?y? ?m?e?e?t?i?n?g?!?¡±?


    Zantari gave a final wave as they finally turned a corner in the hallway to be out of sight of the overly chatty diplomat. They didn¡¯t quite ¡®run¡¯ from the situation as soon as they broke line of vision, but they did speed up in order to put some distance between themselves and the Dunwilian. They weren¡¯t even here on this Federation space station for diplomatic reasons: This was one of the few places that sold a rare and potent alcoholic beverage: Lituram. Of course, while there were other places that sold similar or even ¡®technically¡¯ identical liquids, it was well known that any such drink not made on the planet Lituram, was just sparkling Ogas. So the Zantari had decided to pick up a few crates and have them loaded onto their ship while they were in the area.


    The Ghirlinn found themselves deep in thought as they made their way back to their vessel. Their next meeting would be with Xanara, to regroup and work out what to do with the information they had gathered on the Terrans. It was probably going to be fine in reality considering the Terrans seemed to excel in being friendly and open to new experiences, so Zantari was certain they¡¯d work out something amenable to both sides.


    I wonder what payment the Terrans would need for some head pats. Or a little boop on the-


    Zantari gave an annoyed frown as the next door didn¡¯t open, stopping their progress forwards as the automated sensors refused to activate, leaving the exit to this random empty hallway blocked. The Ghirlinn gave an annoyed wave of their hand in front of the pad, the lack of a reaction to their movement making them look like a very shitty magician. Zantari upgraded their annoyance to a grumble as they started poking the pad¡¯s physical buttons in an attempt to open the door.


    ¡°Zantari, you and I need to talk. You¡¯re going to stay right here until you answer some questions.¡±


    The Ghirlinn span around to face the voice, a strange figure now blocking the way Zantari had come from. Well¡­ blocking was a strong word. The alien stood before them was a light orange feline. Bipedal, but barely two feet tall, wearing a crisp well tailored black suit. Zantari could probably just push the figure over. Instead, they asked the most obvious question.


    ¡°Sorry, who are you?¡±


    The feline gave a small joyless smile in response, confidence and self-assurance dripping from his person as he responded. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Who I am doesn''t matter. What matters is that my job is to know things. I know your name is Zantari. I know you''ve been travelling around the Alliance asking about us. I also know that you single-handedly took out an Estorian fleet, which we thank you for.¡±


    Zantari was starting to get a bad feeling about this. A niggling piece of information they¡¯d forgotten was starting to push its way to the centre of their mind. Still, Ghirlinn first tried to scare away this newcomer and hopefully continue on back to a ship now full of rare booze.


    ¡°If I really did that single-handedly, blocking my path seems inadvisable.¡±


    ¡°I saw the footage of what you did, and you very clearly have some sort of rules around when you can intervene or use your Doctor Who bullshit. Probably similar to our rules surrounding contact with pre-FTL civilizations. I¡¯m not attacking you, I¡¯m just standing here, talking, while my AI friend does some much-needed maintenance on the door and all doors that lead to your vessel.¡±


    ¡°Beep boop, this door needs defragging. Please stand by.¡±


    The digital sounding voice emitted from the intercom, filling Zantari with worry as they put the pieces together. If this feline was working with an AI, there was only one logical reason why they were here.


    The cute primates were not the only species who went by the name Terran, the Ghirlinn just didn¡¯t care much about the other two. The name was owned by three different peoples under one unified banner: Human, AI, and Uplift.


    ¡°So Zantari.¡± The Uplift continued, his voice filled with accusation. ¡°You''ve been sneaking around asking about us, so here we are! What is your problem so important that you didn''t just ask us directly?¡±


    Panic. The Ghirlinn were a species in control of their destiny, who had conquered time and space long ago, so this was the first time in years where Zantari was legitimately taken off guard. This was first contact with the Terrans themselves, or at least part of them, and being cornered in a hallway by someone in some form of military intelligence had not been the plan.


    All carefully crafted machinations around bringing the information Zantari had gathered back home, and creating a perfect diplomatic approach to first contact fled their mind, leaving behind a stumbling slurry of thoughts.


    ¡°Well, it wasn''t really sneaking per se¡­¡±


    ¡°By definition it was, sneaking. Analysis of your movements and scheduled meetings suggests a purposeful attempt to avoid Terrans.¡± The AI spoke once more., the digital voice somehow sounding full of snark as they spoke.


    ¡°Which leads to what exactly were you doing?¡± Added the uplift, adding to the pressure with his AI coworker. ¡°Planning on cutting down a burgeoning alliance? Want to poach our members, offering them a better deal?¡±


    ¡°Of course not! That wouldn¡¯t be our place, we don¡¯t interfere. We mean you no harm! ¡° Zantari fumbled for a response as the uplift stared them down. ¡±We just wanted to¡­ you know.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t know, because you didn¡¯t talk to us and avoided us for god knows what reason. That isn¡¯t the actions of someone who means no harm.¡± The feline countered with venom in their voice.


    ¡°We were also able to do some investigation of our own. Your species has a tendency to be¡­ disruptive.¡±


    ¡°Those aren¡¯t sanctioned, people are only remembered when they break the rules!¡± The Ghirlinn shouted as they tried to answer, desperately feeling like their actions were being taken in the most negative light. ¡°It¡¯s just the Terrans, humans, whatever you call them, they¡¯re¡­ it¡¯s complicated.¡±


    ¡°What about them? It¡¯s really not complicated, the fact that you are making this complicated makes me feel like you¡¯re threatening them.¡± The uplift immediately countered.


    ¡°We do not like those who threaten our creators.¡±


    Zantari once again fumbled for their words. ¡°It¡¯s not a threat, it¡¯s the opposite, it''s¡­¡±


    ¡°What is it?!¡±


    ¡°What is your purpose here?!¡±


    ¡°THEY¡¯RE CUTE!¡±


    There was a pause as the barrage of questions and accusations finally broke Zantari down, the poor Ghirlinn screaming the words out and silencing the two Terrans, the empty lack of noise finally filling the hallway as they tried to understand just what that meant.


    Oh great job Zantari, that¡¯s a ¡®perfect¡¯ explanation you idiot.


    ¡°What?¡± The Uplift eventually asked, confused, the opposition in his voice replaced with confusion.


    ¡°Terrans, the other ones, the humans. They¡¯re adorable! Little bipedal furless children wobbling around being chaotic wherever they go. I¡¯ve been talking with your allies to work out how to break that to them. Because as soon as the rest of my species learn about you, ¡®Terran trafficking¡¯ is going to become a problem and none of you have anything that can stop us! We don¡¯t want you to hate us, so I was trying to work out what kind of species you are so we could explain it in the best way! Which we STILL don¡¯t know because everyone gave me different information about you and I don¡¯t know what we¡¯re supposed to do!¡±


    For all of the Ghirlinn¡¯s technology and superior understanding of the universe, there was nothing else Zantari could do but be honest, the desperation and despair in their voice evident. No matter how advanced as a species you got, first contacts were always a pain. Getting people to like you, hoping your flaws and issues didn¡¯t outweigh your positive traits. That first jump into the unknown never got any easier.


    Silence took over the hallway for ten, twenty seconds. Then the uplift started to laugh, starting out with small giggles before erupting into a full on belly aching roar of mirth at this information. Zantari felt a small amount of indignation as all of their worries and fears at meeting the Terrans were responded to with laughter.


    ¡°It¡¯s not funny! It¡¯s a major issue that¡¯s going to cause big problems!¡±


    ¡°I do agree.¡± The AI added. ¡°With the technological advantage of the Ghirlinn, this could cause issues for our creators.¡±


    Yet still the uplift continued to laugh, their tough professional demeanour breaking down when faced with the funniest thing they¡¯d heard for years.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but look at me.¡± The uplift finally shouted out in-between laughter. ¡°After my many years of existence with our creators, the fact that someone else finds humans cute, to the same annoying degree, is hilarious.¡±


    ¡°I will admit, it is kinda funny.¡±


    Zantari didn¡¯t know how to feel about this. This was not the reaction they were expecting, they had no plan for what to do if the Terrans found the problem¡­ funny. Even now, even after over forty meetings talking about the strange adorable primates with other species, this reaction confused them.


    ¡°The Scythen did say it was funny.¡± Zantari conceded, slowly feeling better and a little bit silly after worrying about this meeting for so long. ¡°So you¡¯re not afraid or angry at us for this new problem?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m still angry with you.¡± The uplift contested, pointing a furred paw towards the Ghirlinn. ¡°Sneaking around, going behind our backs, spying on us through our friends. In bird law that¡¯s known as a dick move.¡±


    ¡°I will give you some advice Mr. Zantari. My creators only find deception acceptable in two cases: regarding presents, and surprise parties.¡± The AI added slowly. ¡°Even the latter is prone to the party recipient pulling out a form of weaponry.¡±


    The Ghirlinn hung their head with shame, realizing just how bad their actions looked to someone not privy to the reasons why they had decided upon such deceit. Maybe thousands upon thousands of years of not needing to take this kind of risk at social rejection, had left the Ghirlinn terrified at what should have been a simple, honest interaction.


    ¡°So, what happens now?¡±


    The uplift gave a sigh, as the once closed door finally opened after the AI had finished their ¡®maintenance¡¯. The uplift walked through it, passing by Zantari with confidence before beckoning the Ghirlinn to follow.


    ¡°What happens now is you follow me and we do this properly. You¡¯re going to get in contact with our head of diplomatic relations, you¡¯re going to explain the problem and work on a solution together. You¡¯re also going to meet your first human. I hope it¡¯s everything you thought it was going to be.¡±


    Zantari held their hands together nervously, feeling like a child that had just been scolded and was being told to fix their mistake. They took a moment before finally following the Uplift through the door, now realizing the AI had given them some crucial information on something the Terrans would enjoy.


    ¡°... Can we have a moment, so I can get the Terrans a present?¡±

 Why we said yes - Terran

    Jan Eagles suppressed the urge to sigh. It was a trick he''d mastered over his many years as an ambassador, the ability to avoid a physical reaction regardless of the situation, to remain unflinchingly calm and diplomatic in the most undiplomatic of circumstances. This was a skill being tested to its limits by this new¡­ problem.


    He stood at the head of the table, surveying the room. This was the nice office, situated on the ambassadorial station in orbit of Earth itself, the one used for the most important meetings, carefully put together to provide an aura of friendship and strength in equal measure.


    Paintings, photographs and tapestries hung from the walls, some commissioned, some gifted by members of the Terran Alliance. Representations of cities or natural wonders from Earth and other Terran planets were hanging next to artworks from alliance members and pictures of Terran diplomats meeting with various alien leaders.


    A deep mahogany table with twenty seats dominated the room, allowing the Terrans to host major meetings with important guests. The clear glass windows of the far wall provided an impressive view of not only the splendour of Earth, the beautiful blue and green marble that hung in the sky, but the many, many warships in her defensive fleet. Upon the table normally sat a variety of foods sourced from Earth: Fruits, dried meats, other edible delicacies from the planet the station orbited had all been pushed to the edge of the surface, to make room for the ¡®gifts¡¯ that Jan¡¯s visitor had brought.


    A random selection of items lay scattered in a pile: A giant laser cannon of unknown make was placed next to a giant plush toy of some five legged furry creature that Jan didn¡¯t recognize. A case of Lituram wine hiding under a strange decorative sculpture that wobbled in place. Finished off with a robe with three armholes draped over the top of it all, a line of alien text on the front that read ¡®I LUV GRIZXTAL CITY¡¯. The entire collection had the vibe of someone who¡¯d suddenly realized it was Christmas Eve while shopping at a gas station, which to be fair, precisely described the rush with which Zantari had brought their presents.


    ¡°So, let us recap to see if I understand this situation. You are Zantari, a diplomat for Ghirlinn who has been avoiding contact with the Terran Conclave because your species finds Terrans, humans in particular, cute. You are worried about members of your species starting human trafficking due to your technological advantage. As soon as you leave this conversation you legally have to inform your government about our existence, bringing this problem to a head. Have I got this right?¡±


    Jan asked the question, summarizing the rambling nervous explanation that Zantari had given him, feeling the start of a headache coming on from the problems this might cause. Of course, the head diplomat for the Terrans knew about the Ghirlinn, or at least as much as one can know about such a species. They knew the alien race could do things that broke the current Terran understanding of how the universe worked, and that, at best, they could be described as ¡®trickster gods¡¯, known for their love of watching and messing with people.


    The fact that this species was going to take special interest in the Terrans was worrying.


    There was pause while Jan waited for the Ghirlinn to answer the question, the seconds awkwardly ticking by as Zantari stared at him with a blank distracted look in their eyes, before the reptilian form the Ghirlinn preferred to use by default gave a jump of surprise, as if being awoken from their own thoughts. A panicked look was plastered across their face as Zantari realized someone had asked them a question.


    ¡°Errr¡­ I¡¯m sorry, what was the question? I¡­ I got a little distracted by the way the fur beneath your nose bounces up and down while you talk¡­ like a little boopable button.¡±


    Jan once again held in the urge to sigh, instead pushing the feeling deep into his soul and suppressing it into what would probably later form a brain tumour. He got the feeling that many ¡®cute¡¯ aliens of the universe would be getting apologies from certain people upon their first interaction with the Ghirlinn.


    ¡°I was summarizing the issue you presented to me.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes. The Ghirlinn would really prefer for our relations to be positive, and do not want our minority of criminals to tarnish our future interactions.¡±


    While the Terran diplomat understood that this meeting had been ¡®sprung¡¯ on Zantari, Jan did hope that the Ghirlinn would be a little more professional than their current state of barely being able to pay attention.


    Still, Jan wondered if this was a weakness that could be exploited. The Terran was under no delusion about their position in this meeting, as the technological gap between the two species was immense, so anything that could be used to get more favourable deals or interactions between them was something to be fully explored.


    ¡°Well there are a lot of ways I believe we could be friends. I understand that you were the one responsible for taking out the Estorian fleet near Hatil space, which we thank you extensively for, that makes us overjoyed at the tragedy that you stopped heroically.¡± Jan paused for a moment as he spoke, watching the clear joy emanating from Zantari as the ¡®cute primate¡¯ praised them. ¡°We¡¯d be exceptionally interested in a friendly defensive agreement, as we both seem to dislike the same people.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, we really can¡¯t do that. I wish we could.¡±


    Jan watched as the Ghirlinn slowly squirmed with discomfort at having to tell him no, giving a soft smile in return as he applied a little more pressure.


    ¡°But right now a lot of Terrans are being hurt, or even killed by the Estorians. Even just a little help defensively would allow us to focus more on this new possible friendship we find ourselves in.¡±


    Jan knew exactly what he was doing as Zantari¡¯s expression turned to one of pain, as if they were a National Geographic researcher having to film a cute baby deer being hunted by a lion, unable to act in their requirement of neutrality. The Terran diplomat had no problems with abandoning their pride to help the Terran Alliance as a whole, especially given the unprecedentedly high levels of cohesion of the Estorian Empire¡¯s individual armies. If giving the strange shape-shifter some ¡®puppy eyes¡¯ was all it took to end the war in the Terran¡¯s favour, then Jan would act as cute as possible.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I really am. We can¡¯t get involved. There are reasons outside your knowledge, agreements and rules we can¡¯t break. It¡¯s really for your own good.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Zantari looked like he was about to cry, having to tell the cute little human no, leaving Jan to offer an alternative. There was no need to overly push such a suggestion in just one meeting, you very rarely got everything you wanted in just one conversation. The trick was to slowly wear down your diplomatic contacts over time, to get what you wanted.


    ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate. But I¡¯m certain there are other ways we can aid and learn more about each other. I¡¯m sure after the news about our species hits your media, the Ghirlinn would be interested in some mutual tourism, or even an exchange program between members of our scientific community?¡±


    There was a second way to get value from such a relationship, and while Jan was interested in learning about this advanced alien species just out of curiosity, getting as many of the Ghirlinn at various ¡°tourist destinations¡± would be the same as having those locations defended by the Ghirlinn government as they strove to protect their citizens. This wasn¡¯t even a new idea, Jan knew about several governments who unofficially used Terran tourism as a shield, knowing that the Terran Conclave would be forced to respond if anyone attacked these locations.


    Honestly, being on this side of negotiations was an interesting feeling for Jan Eagles.


    ¡°If you wanted that, that would be grand!¡± Zantari responded with a more animated expression ¡°We would be willing to provide anything needed to any Terran wishing to travel to Ghirlinn space as honoured guests. Especially if they wish to travel to our systems outside this galaxy.¡±


    Jan couldn¡¯t help but give a small raise of an eyebrow as he processed this statement, a tiny crack in his poker face at just how big of an offer that was. He knew there were people who would literally bite off this shapeshifter¡¯s hand for that offer, to travel outside their current galaxy to the universe unknown. That was without getting into the possibility of anyone visiting the Ghirlinn ¡®borrowing¡¯ any technology that wasn¡¯t nailed down. Fortunately for Jan, Zantari was too busy internally fighting the urge to squee at the Terran who just waggled a cute fuzzy eyebrow at them, to know what it meant.


    ¡°That, that would work.¡± Jan finally said after a few moments, carefully choosing their words and movements to hide just how good an offer that was. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about the elephant in the room: These ¡®Terran traffickers¡¯ of yours.¡±


    Zantari started wringing their hands in anxiety as they waited for the Terran diplomat to continue talking, a worry and fear rising as Jan reached into a suit pocket and pulled out a small datapad before handing it over. Was this moment where all of the Ghirlinn¡¯s fears would be realized, that these cute little creatures would hate them for the troubles that the Ghirlinn would cause?


    ¡°If you agree to these terms in dealing with such members of your species, I¡¯m sure it will be fine.¡±


    Zantari took a moment to quickly skim the document, anxiety replaced with relief as the asked actions were all a reasonable framework surrounding information sharing and punishment around any would be Terran traffickers.


    ¡°Yes, this would be the least we¡¯d do, anyone who breaks your sapient rights will be dealt with harshly by our justice system!¡± Zantari took a few more moments to keep reading the strangely detailed document, before continuing. ¡°So you¡¯re not angry or scared of us because of this? You¡¯re not insulted at all by us finding you cute?¡±


    This time Jan did actually sigh, a small calming sound as they gave the nervous Ghirlinn a soft smile, empathy for Zantari¡¯s situation filling the Terran diplomat. Sure, at a species level Zantari had the advantage, but it was clear to Jan that while he¡¯d spent the last 70 years cutting his teeth on diplomatic negotiations in a massive confusing galaxy, his counterpart wasn¡¯t experienced with this kind of meeting. The Ghirlinn seemed more intent on worrying about whether the Terrans would hate them than trying to gain any kind of advantage in negotiations.


    ¡°Look, most Terrans will find it annoying or insulting if you¡¯re over the top with it. A few will find it endearing, and a minority will be into it.¡± Jan paused for a moment, wondering what would happen when the Ghirlinn eventually wandered into the insanity of the Terran Galnet, before leaving that thought for another day. ¡°Really, we can''t complain too much without being hypocrites.¡±


    Zantari gave a small frown of confusion. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°We have the same problem you do. Half of the universe triggers our ¡®cute¡¯ response, and while most Terrans would not do such a thing, a minority will, and keep breaking our laws on ¡®no trafficking people, no matter how cute they are¡¯. The documents you hold in your hands are our standard agreement with other such races on how we deal with our own problems. Expecting you to do anything we wouldn¡¯t expect of ourselves would be wrong.¡±


    Zantari took a few moments to understand the meaning of this statement, finding it adorable that the Terrans had the same problems they did. Was this why everyone found the situation funny, that the Terrans have the same problem with the rest of the galaxy as the Ghirlinn would have with Terrans? With the lack of response from Jan, Zantari now realized their over-thinking regarding this meeting was unnecessary if the cute little primates were this chill about the problem.


    ¡°I feel a little silly now, worrying about this meeting. I really thought you¡¯d be angrier at such a threat from us¡­¡± Zantari gave a small sigh, bowing their head in shame, understanding that the simplest solution would have been to just talk with the Terrans. ¡°But I still don¡¯t get one thing: What is your deal? I spent so much time trying to work out who you were, to find out how to correctly initiate this conversation, but nothing made sense. The Litorian Horde thinks you¡¯re warriors, the Parket thinks you''re awesome party people, and the Hatil talk about you like you¡¯re benevolent saviours. Everyone seems to have a different view of just what a Terran is.¡±


    Jan took a moment and gave a small chuckle, a kind smile playing at the edges of his lips as he saw yet another species be absolutely confused about the duality of humanity.


    ¡°The answer is yes. We are all those things and more. If you ask 10 Terrans about something, you will get 11 opinions. No matter who or what you are, there will be at least someone amongst our species who finds what you do to be interesting, worth their time and effort. I think if you wanted to describe what motivates a Terran, it¡¯s very simple: We just want to be happy, and whatever makes us happy is generally far more enjoyable when done with other people, with friends.¡±


    Jan Eagles took a step forwards, holding out a hand in friendship toward the Ghirlinn, and somehow, against all the worries and stress Zantari had faced over the Terrans, they now knew everything would be alright in the end.


    ¡°The Terran Conclave would be very happy to be a friend to the Ghirlinn.¡±


    Zantari had had a stressful month, in trying to work out just what these cute Terrans were all about, meeting various diplomats in their quest to try and craft the perfect first contact with the little primates. This had been followed by pure relief as the Terrans seemingly accepted the Ghirlinn, faults and all.


    So, in a moment of confusion and with all self-control slipping away, as Jan Eagles extended his arm towards them in a gesture of friendship, Zantari¡¯s brain glitched. He raised his own appendage in response, not to grasp the diplomat''s hand, but higher, reaching out with a single pointed finger and mindlessly pressing it against the Terran¡¯s soft squishy nose without thinking. It took Zantari a few seconds to realize exactly what they had done, half filled with satisfaction, the other half containing embarrassment and worry once again. Still, they uttered a final word that needed to be said in precisely such a circumstance.


    ¡°Boop.¡±

 Keeping a promise

    Date: 76 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    Damian stepped off the ship, slowly and carefully as the gravity of Earth fully hit the little Hatil as he walked off of the transport vessel. The birthplace of the Terrans was larger in every way than his original home planet, both in size, and sheer number of visitors. Hundreds of thousands of people swarmed through the spaceport like a tide raging around him as the little mammal made his way through the crowds of travellers going to and fro on their own journeys, people racing with luggage to get on and off of flights across the galaxy.


    The entire construction of the spaceport was a testament to the power of the Terrans within the universe, one of two such buildings that could be found on Earth, the structure hanging in the sky allowing the millions of people who left and entered Earth from all around the galaxy to do so quickly and easily. It was absolutely gigantic, looming over the country like a moon about to impact, ships entering and exiting like a tremendous beehive.


    Damian was practically swallowed by the mass of people, standing at only 4ft tall, bipedal, covered from head to toe in a light cream-coloured fur. Little paws, large floppy ears and giant black eyes gave him the appearance of a teddy bear mushed with a baby seal. His military uniform was covered in ranks and medals, the fatigues of Terran design, the simple camouflage pattern of their military.


    Damian limped along as he took each step, the walking stick held in his left hand out of place for someone so young. His progress was slow and cumbersome, eventually reaching the queue he was supposed to enter, patiently awaiting his turn in the endless lines found in places of bureaucracy like this. Nobody really paid much attention to him outside a few casual attempts to move out of the way of Damian and his walking stick. Out of any location on Earth, this was the one most filled with non-Terran visitors, the spaceport filled with aliens of all sizes and species, showing a selection of individuals from around the galaxy, within the Terran Alliance and beyond.


    ¡ª-------------


    Date: 71 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    ¡°So Roosevelt, why¡¯d you sign up?¡±


    The Terran asked the question simply, laying on his bottom bunk bed as the dim lights of the quarters illuminated the tiny living space. While the military had long since improved the conditions of its members, lack of personal space was still a problem, especially when travelling among the stars. The quarters had probably once been a small supply closet on the ship they were riding on, before some bright person had realized they should shove bedding into the tight space and fit at least two more people on the vessel.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it the same as everyone? Estorians are the worst, seeing what they¡¯re doing to people made me want to do something about it.¡±


    Damian answered with a quiet whisper, not even bothering to look over the side of his bed towards his battle buddy, instead staring up at the artificial ceiling as the quiet hum of the ship provided a gentle lullaby to those within. The collection of slaving species that had joined together under the banner of the ¡®Estorian Empire¡¯ was officially ¡®the worst¡¯, having triggered a war after launching an attack upon a Terran Alliance scientific station. A hatred for one of the worst groups in this part of the galaxy wasn¡¯t uncommon, and half the reason so many of the over 400 species that made up the Terran Alliance had banded together for friendship and protection.


    ¡°Nah, I didn¡¯t mean that. Why¡¯d you join the Terran military? Why not stick with the Hatil?¡±


    Terry responded lazily, giving a yawn as he spoke, mumbling the words at the strange little alien he¡¯d met nearly a year ago at boot camp and training. In the twenty years of his life, he¡¯d never had an alien companion before. In fact, before this new endeavour he¡¯d never left his home state of Tennessee. Even in a rapidly expanding universe, not everyone had explored everything the galaxy had to offer, and travelling amongst the stars with the military was a new experience for Terry.


    ¡°My parents asked me to, they thought joining the Terran military would be safer. More experience in this war stuff.¡± Damian said, thinking back to his worried parents, back when the Hatil had first told them about his plans to join the fight against the slaving Estorians. They¡¯d wanted him to stay safe, and Damian had promised them they would.


    ¡°It¡¯s not really that dangerous any more, is it? This ain¡¯t the brutal warfare from the historical movies.¡± Terry mused ¡°All fighting is done with drones and stuff, only reason why they put us through training with actual guns is just in case.¡±


    Many philosophers and educated people stated that war never changes, but those people clearly never studied military history. Whether via the invention of the gun or the mortar, war has undergone plenty of changes through the history of not just mankind, but the known universe as well. The invention of autonomous machines of war had removed the absolute need for mass armies of irreplaceable people, instead focusing training on specialized teams designed around deploying said armies of war. The modern military philosophy was to attempt to win your battles before you needed to expend any trained military members.


    The conversation petered out as the pair started to settle down, the dim lights of the ship barely illuminating the room. Damian couldn¡¯t help but feel a small amount of anxiety as they could feel the steady progress of the ship making their way towards his first deployment. It was a simple engagement, a defensive position with one of the Terrans many allies, but the mild background worry still remained.


    Then Damian gave a frown, a niggling thought forming between his floppy ears.


    ¡°Terry, why do people keep calling me Roosevelt? You do know my name is Damian right?¡±


    There was a pause as the Terran considered the question, aware of the very clear rules he''d been given when the Hatil had been fated to join his troop. This included a prohibition on calling the alien ¡®Cute, care bear, teddy or anything similar.¡¯


    ¡°No reason in particular, it''s just a nickname, Roosevelt.¡±


    ¡ª----------


    Date: 76 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    Damian slowly limped away from the spaceport, bag on his back, feeling the harsh Texan sun bare down upon him as he left the gleaming spaceport behind. The Haitl could feel a tired annoyance filling his body, just glad he was out of the bureaucratic mess that was customs and immigrations.


    Travel had always been a complicated mess, and the introduction of interplanetary travel hadn¡¯t made it simpler. Damian could still feel the plethora of pesticides and disinfectants sticking to his clothes and fur, making sure he didn¡¯t accidentally bring something off world that won¡¯t play nice with the local fauna. There had been the forms and processes to fill out, hours of standing around even with his relatively simple circumstance of being a Hatil, a member of the Terran Alliance. There¡¯d even been the surprising difficulty of bringing a large bottle of Earth made whiskey with them. Even hundreds of years after the invention of flight, security was still touchy about containers of liquid.


    Damian pushed through the crowds of people leaving and entering the spaceport, the mass of people mixing with the dry heat of the planet to create a claustrophobic environment that swallowed up the small Haltil as they became one of the crowd, moving through escalators and walkways before taking their place in line as they waited for the train to arrive.


    ¡ª-------------


    Date: 75 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    The building was calm, the now abandoned warehouse having been taken over by the Terran Alliance military as a forward command post, the soldiers inside sitting at ease while they did their jobs. While a great many movies and stories had been made about the horrors and glory of war, the actual truth was simple: War was a lot of boring sitting and waiting for something gloriously horrifying to happen. Modern warfare, especially post Stasis Time, was mostly sat watching screens, ensuring the combat drones were being used to their full potential, and only physically engaging in a location if some circumstance required a personal organic touch.


    The soldiers not sat at screens or resting patrolled the outskirts of their camp, alongside dozens of the automated drones that made up the bulk of a modern Terran military: Each one varied in size, shape, and function, a mixture of wheeled and flying machines, able to wage war in most forms of land combat. These were painted a dull blue and green, the colours of the Terran Military.


    The living organic soldiers were still armed to the teeth of course: While Terran Military protocols determined that an irreplaceable living soldier should only be engaging the enemy if ¡®Everything has gone to hell¡¯, Terran Military protocols also stated that you should assume everything is always going to hell at all times.


    Damian and Terry stood in front of their tiny screen, looking intently at the multitude of screens in front of them, the thousands of different viewpoints of the drones and their overall positions able to be seen at a glance, giving them a view of the war over the entire planet and the enemy positions they were holding onto.


    The current situation on J¡¯tal was stable, the Estorian Empire had attacked the Terran Allied tiny marsupials, the Terrans had responded with a defence in kind. Even better, it was the Hagorthians who were the main force of this attack. The five leading species of the Estorian Empire barely tolerated each other, so each military force was made up of only one of the five, allowing their individual weaknesses to be exploited.


    The giant, vicious, war loving reptiles known as the Hagorthians, had a tendency to shove their living soldiers deep into the fray of battle, desperate for physical combat to feed their ever-growing, expanding appetites for war. This allowed the Terran military to slowly whittle away at the hulkish brutes without ever needing to do more than sit behind their machines.


    Right now there wasn¡¯t much going on, the two sides were dug into the areas they controlled, while Damian and Terry watched the enemy patrol and move around from a vantage point provided by a nearby scouting drone.


    ¡°Those are some very large gators,¡± Terry remarked, squinting at the small amount of movement being shown below. ¡°Although they ain¡¯t anything when compared to that giant whopper I caught back on Peras.¡±


    ¡®Large gator¡¯ was an understatement. Hagorthians were a functionally immortal species of bipedal reptile covered in deep red and brown scales, who had the strange evolutionary quirk that they never stopped growing. They were functionally immortal, not that this mattered much: their continual growth fuelled an insatiable demand for ever-increasing requirements of food and territory, meaning very few lived long lives as they battled amongst themselves and those among the stars. To be Hargorthian, was to always be in a state of conflict and war.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, that ¡®magic alien fish¡¯ that you ¡®totally¡¯ caught when nobody else was looking.¡± Damian responded with a friendly mocking tone. ¡°Somehow no one on an entire military base managed to get any proof of this supposed ¡®monster¡¯ you snagged?¡±


    ¡°It was huge and it happened!¡± Terry replied with an adamant indignant tone. ¡°I didn¡¯t take no picture because¡­ well technically I wasn¡¯t supposed to be fishing there.¡±


    To be fair to the Terran, it did sound like the kind of thing the well-meaning human would often do. Over the last five different planets and 4 years, Damian had seen Terry get involved in various¡­ shenanigans. In between trying to adopt various native wildlife as a ¡®team mascot¡¯ and at least one alleged misuse of explosives leading to half a burned down forest, Terry sneaking off to go fish wouldn¡¯t even hit the top 5 ¡®Terry moments¡¯.


    The Hatil decided to drop it, instead focusing on the task at hand, staring at the screen, giving a frown as the enemy were starting to do something. Activity could be seen as a new ship approached, the Terrans not able to get a clear view of exactly what was approaching.


    ¡°Hold on¡± Damian said, alerting the rest of the soldiers in the room to a new development. ¡°Something''s happening. Anyone know what kind of ship that is?¡±


    He paused for a moment, as the other Terrans around him rushed over to focus on the screen as well, murmurs of confusion rippling through the group of soldiers as they stared at the blurry picture of the distant object.


    ¡°Wait, is that a Lelzoil? Since when are they here?¡±


    A Terran named Jason asked the question, causing everyone to focus even more intently on the screen, noticing that leaving the newly arrived unidentified ship, was indeed one of the brightly coloured avians. Several of them in fact, all of them leaving carrying a large unknown object. The bird like species were one of the five leading members of the Estorian Empire, well known for their technological prowess and willingness to do whatever it took to gain more knowledge and power from a harsh universe.


    The real confusion was why the two were actually working together. Sure, they were technically allies, but that was in name only.


    ¡°Someone contact HQ, this can¡¯t be good.¡±


    The order was never acted upon, however, as a more pressing issue raised its ugly head. The device the avians had brought with them started to glow as the Lelzoil did something to do it, then with a flash of light, the picture cut out. The combat drones that were once patrolling the base, each gave frantic beeping error codes before falling still where they stood, the activation lights turning red as each of them were disabled remotely.


    Immediately alarms started blaring out from around the outpost, as the assigned to each squadron of combat drones started frantically trying to regain a connection to the major advantage the Terran had brought to this battle.


    All for naught, as Damian started to feel a growing dread in his heart as he sat next to Terry, frantically working to regain control of his small part of the Terran military, realizing that absolutely nothing was working across the board over the entire planet. Somehow the Avians had managed to neutralize the major advantage the Terrans brought with them.


    ¡ª---------------------------


    Date: 76 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    Damian watched Earth zoom by below him as he stared out of the window, looking down as the American landscape shot past at record-breaking speed. It had taken what was once known as the United States of America significantly longer to build itself a functioning high speed rail system, but even the most stubborn of cultures couldn¡¯t deny the advantage of being able to cross the breadth of an entire country in only a few hours.


    The lines of travel hung in the sky allowing the cabins to punch through the air at ludicrous speeds, treating the passengers inside with a perfect bird''s eye view of the American landscape. Much had changed over the years, but much had remained the same. The cities now extended far into the sky, entire metropolises hanging in mid-air to allow the never ending expansion of humanity and the living spaces it required as populations continued to grow. Even against the noon sun, the cities glowed with lights and power, the full glory of a modern Terran society on display as they travelled over the entire country, where billions of humans, uplifts and AI lived out their lives on their origin planet.


    However, even in between this technological push spanning generations, the Terran love of nature was still on display, as swathes of wilderness as varied as the planet itself could still be seen from Damian''s position. Rolling pains, vast green forests, giant mountain sides dominating the landscape. Many species around the galaxy considered Earth to be a dangerous place, filled with vicious animals and dangerous environments. All of these were on display from the Hatil¡¯s window seat.


    He turned away from the window, looking around at the other passengers for a few moments. The train was nice, well maintained leather and chrome giving a clean classy look. Carriages such as these were some of the first impressions off world visitors would have of Earth, meant that effort had been placed into making the train systems that connected the spaceports to cities across the world.


    The amount of non-Terrans had decreased drastically as Damian travelled further away from his original entry to Earth, the vast majority of the other passengers on the Train being humans, uplifts or the unseen AI. However, there were still enough off world visitors to avoid anyone really paying attention to the Hatil sat on the seat. A feline Kigrel sat in one seat, probably carrying a silly amount of bladed weapons with them, while a family of amphibious Zorthians occupied another grouping of seats as they chatted with each other excitedly. Earth was a popular tourist destination for many species.


    Damian turned away and looked out the window once again, the stunning American landscape still there as the Hatil gave a small sad sigh, each second passing allowed the train to bring him closer to his final destination.


    ¡ª----------


    Date: 75 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    ¡°Roosevelt, slow down buddy!¡±


    Damian could hear Terry screaming at him from the other seat as he drove the Armoured Troop Carrier at high speed towards their target, the vehicle careening through the abandoned and destroyed streets with the Hatil at the wheel, while the eight occupants inside held on for deal life.


    Theirs was not the only vehicle doing so: the streets were alive with a mass of military movement, as the entire Terran Military on the planet of J¡¯tal worked as one strike force, rushing the streets in an attempt to destroy the Lelzoil machines that were stopping their combat drones. Military intelligence suggested there was a chink in the Estorian¡¯s defence, which the Terrans were looking to fully take advantage of with a swift attack en mass.


    Right now a large section of the military power of the Terrans had been disabled, whatever technology the Avians had brought to their allies aid was jamming the signals the drones used to communicate with ones giving orders, meaning they were effectively rendered inert: Terrans had enough genre experience with fictional sci-fi to know that allowing your automatic killing machines to make their own choices, without constant confirmations, meant having those machines used against you nine times out of ten.


    While the Terran military could function without the artificial implements of war, having one of their major advantages on the battlefield nullified was not plan A. Taking out whatever machine the Lelzoil had brought with them to aid their partners in this war, was priority number one.


    ¡°I thought Terrans like going fast?!¡± Damian screamed out as he took a turn to the sound of wheels sliding over rubble. ¡°Let¡¯s go fast, no time like the present.¡±


    Damian could hear the sounds of explosions and gunfire rattling off in the distance as other units also contributed to the Terran assault, ignoring them and focusing on driving the machine at high velocity. While the vehicle did come with a variety of automated driving functions, Damian was choosing to ignore all of them, since they were talking of silly notions, such as ¡®Slow down¡¯ and ¡®Excessive speed, please reduce¡¯.


    This was a consistent problem with Hatil members who joined the Terran Military. The Terrans were almost revered amongst the little teddy bear-like aliens, with their military prowess being one of the major sources of awe: No less than 70 years ago the Terrans had completely humiliated the Hatil¡¯s attempt at an aggressive force during the war between the two sides.


    This, in addition to Terran fiction dominating the Hatil¡¯s culture, led to those who joined the Terrans in arms being¡­ more ¡®Terran¡¯ than your average Terran. Damian was no different, having grown up on a heavy diet of Earth¡¯s action movies, this caused him to have an inflated opinion about what level of competence and bravery was required to exist within their military. Damian was a surprising number of years old when he learned that the long-running ¡®Fast and Furious¡¯ series was not based on true events. This led to the little Hatil being the best driver of the group, drifting the bulky troop carrier around corners as he raced long the rubble filled streets.


    Unfortunately, war for an individual can be considered mostly luck. The vast majority of casualties in any conflict will come from weapons not fired at the unlucky individual. Artillery and bombardment of all kinds have taken far more lives than any amount of bullets, random explosives being highly effective when used in mass. It was this, not speed, which would be the Terran squad¡¯s undoing.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The transport did its job admirably at absorbing the impact. The strike wasn¡¯t direct, Damian¡¯s story would have ended far sooner had the artillery strike been a direct hit. But it was close enough to require the extensive lightweight shielding on the carrier to do its job from stopping the occupants inside from being turned into non-person biological matter. The eight people inside, including the driver, were all kept perfectly safe as the explosive round blew a crater into the ground in front of them, kicking up rocks and dirt as it did so.


    Unfortunately, the laws of physics still apply. There are no technologies or magic secrets that can stop force being applied to an object. The shockwave caused the vehicle to tip to one side as it was moving at high speed, the resulting forces making the Armoured Troop Carrier tumble and flip several times, before careening into the side of a building, demolishing the wall of what was one an office building as the vehicle span out of control.


    Tumbling and spinning, the world from Damian¡¯s point of view became a jumble of sights and sounds as the universe twirled out of control, the harness being the only thing keeping the Hatil out of danger as the vehicle, for a few seconds, became the world''s largest tumble dryer. Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over, the world became still again, although Damian¡¯s brain was not. The world was fuzzy and out of focus as the crash had rocked him, the sounds of people shouting and moving surrounded his person, distorted and unable to be formed into intelligible noises.


    He tried to move, to get up, managing to merely flop to his side as he unclipped the harness that kept him suspended. Light, movement, the taste of rubble mixing with the taste of blood in his mouth as the Hatil struggled to reorientate himself, unable to find the exit in the upturned vehicle. Damian¡¯s brain was still firing off confused signals after the beating it had taken in the crash.


    ¡°Terry? You good?¡±


    There was no verbal response to Damian¡¯s call, instead a moment of movement as he felt a large five fingered hand grab the collar of his uniform and pull him upwards into the light, being hoisted from the vehicle, the relatively small mammal being light work for the hulking giant of a man he called his friend.


    ¡°Gotcha buddy, not letting my Roosevelt go!¡±


    He could see the Terrans large beaming grin as Damian gave a vague nod, finally being dropped to the ground and able to gather his still fuzzy senses. The squad of eight had come out of the tumble unscathed, the spinning and flipping the Armoured Troop Carrier had gone through being far below the operating limits a crazy Terran engineer had dreamed up.


    Scratch that, the Hatil probably had a concussion, much to the ghostly disappointment of thousands of hours of RnD not creating a perfect protective transport vehicle. There wasn''t any time for Damian to focus on that, retrieving his discarded gear from the remains of the vehicle as the group started to work on tipping the still working carrier back onto its wheels. Unfortunately for them, they wouldn¡¯t have time for that.


    War has a tendency where an entire ten-hour shift can have only ten minutes happen in it, and ten minutes can contain an entire ten hours worth of activity. This was one of those latter times. The squad heard the noises first, growling and howling, hissing and snapping as the enemy approached, the heavy sound of clawed feet and clacking teeth, causing the Terran Alliance soldiers to take defensive positions, abandoning their attempt to flip their vehicle and instead focus on the incoming threat.


    Then the shooting started.


    A cavalcade of noise erupted as both sides engaged with each other, the sound of gunfire erupting from the abandoned ruins of the building the Terrans had crashed into. From this position Damian could see the Hagorthians in a far more horrifying detail, brown and dark red scales, vicious claws, and giant yellowing teeth. The group attacking them were a minimum of 10 feet tall, each one made up of nothing but muscle and a desire for battle, adorned with the various trophies they had claimed in their previous duels or hunts.


    The Hatil just fired his weapon, training taking over as the mass of new targets flooded his concussion-addled mind. This close and personal, it was clear to see how this species had become known for their power across their small section of the galaxy, Damian watching as one of the reptilian attackers took fifteen armour piecing shots to the chest before finally slumping to the floor, dead. The only small relief to the Terran Alliance squad was the Hagorthian tactics, or complete lack of them. Their entire culture believed in fighting with the weapons god had given them with their endless hunger and aggression, the small energy-based firearms they carried being used to keep their enemies from running out of cover for too long, their only acceptance to how most of the galaxy did war.


    No words were spoken aside from shouted commands and information, everyone focusing on the task at hand while bullets and explosions kept the horde of Hagorthian¡¯s back, funnelling the attackers through the hole in the side of the wall the vehicle and crashed through, focusing their fire on any of the giant reptiles who lost their patience and tried to attack. Damian wasn¡¯t sure how many of them there were, and it didn¡¯t really matter as his world descended into focusing on the ones he could see taking cover behind walls and rubble, ensuring his own rain of fire never ended


    Which means he didn¡¯t see the one that had been making their way closer, running from cover to cover, sprinting to get within range. He didn¡¯t see its final desperate lunge of aggression towards him until it was too late, the Hatil¡¯s gun spinning too slowly as a clawed hand reached down and hoisted the little soldier up into the air. Damian did see the Hagorthian¡¯s bloodlust filled face, its cruel uncaring eyes, and its sharp vicious teeth as it bit deep into his side.


    Pain and the sound of his hip crunching as the powerful jaw did its work, tearing through bone and flesh alike as Damian screamed out in pain. A second later, the reptile''s head exploded as a concentrated burst of fire ripped through its skull, dropping the Hatil to the ground, a little too late. He lay there amongst the rubble, blood gushing out of the new wounds decimating his leg and belly, looking on in shock as he could hear the sound of Terry screaming his name.


    ¡ª--------------------------


    Date: 76 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    The town was small. Even with the expansion of humanity and the increase in population that the Terrans had undergone over the last few centuries of development, some people would rather live a quiet life. In an infinite universe full of infinite possibilities, a certain population of people were perfectly happy to live their lives in a small community close to nature.


    Sure, the buildings Damian passed by as he walked down the street weren¡¯t primitive. The trappings of modern life, of various amenities and luxuries were still on display, but in between the weathered painted wooden buildings, or the simple maintained gardens, there was a simplicity to the Hatil¡¯s surroundings.


    Damian gave a stretch of his back and aching leg, the journey to this little Tennessee town had been a long time sitting in the self-driving vehicle, before continuing to limp along on the stone paved streets. Here he could see a few active members of the town, Terrans of all kinds, stopping and staring at him as he made his way slowly towards his destination.


    The Smokey Mountains were not a popular tourist destination for your average alien visiting Earth, as dangerous wildlife and treacherous terrain did not make for an enticing package. Even those who were more adventurous would stick to the more popular routes and large tourist cities that scattered the edges of the nature reserve. A non-Terran arriving at this sleepy little town was an event in a location that very rarely had events, so Damian could feel various pairs of eyes burning a hole in the back of his neck as he walked. It wasn¡¯t malicious, but instead¡­ curious, like seeing a strange vintage car drive down the road, the clunking sounds from their inefficient engines practically demanding you stop and stare, maybe even a small proclamation of ¡°Huh, that¡¯s neat.¡±


    It didn¡¯t take long to find the house, since there weren¡¯t many houses to walk past regardless. The building didn¡¯t stand out at all, the wooden house looking just like all the others. This one was empty though, it would always be empty, that¡¯s just how the universe was now. The front garden was overgrown and unmaintained, scraggly grasses and wildflowers being cut through by a simple brick path. Damian continued limping onwards at a steady pace, entering the unlocked front gate and moving on towards the equally overgrown back garden. A little shed stood at the end which he made his way towards, which was also unlocked. There was nothing to steal inside, as it was just filled with scrap wood and a host of creepy crawlies.


    All the actual valuable items left behind had long since been taken by relatives for safe keeping.


    Damian awkwardly shifted the mess around, empty plant pots and other minor items not worth keeping indoors had been left here to rot, a chaotic mess that even with the instructions Damian had been given, it took the Hatil a good fifteen minutes to dig out what he¡¯d been looking for: An old dirty ceramic plant pot with a narrow entrance, third from the right, on shelf in the back, exactly where he¡¯d been told it was. Something rattled inside, and Damian tipped it upside down, a rust dappled key with a label long since faded to time falling out and being caught in his paw.


    Exactly what he was here to find.


    ¡ª----------------------


    Date: 72 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    ¡°Of course, it was that at that time the teacher walked back in. I was covered in the stuff from my head to my paws, and she looked so shocked!¡±


    The pair both rang out with laughter as Damian concluded telling his story, the joyous sound echoing along the walls of the ship. Their division had just come back from the successful defence of the home world of the double-headed serpentine Zassu, meaning now was the time for rest and relaxation as their vessel headed back to Terran space.


    ¡°Mr. Sensible was able to do shenanigans? Call me shocked!¡± Terry replied with mirth in his voice, sat on the cheap plastic seat, his feet on the table. They weren¡¯t the only ones here, the recreation room was filled with soldiers in their own groups: talking, drinking and dealing cards; In general, winding down after a successful deployment in aid of a Terran Alliance member.


    ¡°I can be reckless as well.¡± Damian responded. ¡°I just look boring because I¡¯m sat next to you!¡±


    The Hatil was correct, as Terry had quickly made a name for themselves as ¡®Most likely to be on latrine duty¡¯, due to the sheer number of idiotic decisions they consistently made, bringing the ire of all superiors down upon him. It wasn¡¯t so much that Damian was a model soldier, rather that he looked that way when sat next to the chaotic Terran.


    ¡°And you wouldn¡¯t have me any other way Roosevelt!¡±


    Damian had long since worked out why the Terrans had given him the supposedly random nickname, a reference to a long dead Terran leader who had the nickname ¡®Teddy¡¯. The Hatil soldier had long since gotten used to the way the Terrans reacted to his ¡®cute¡¯ nature, finding it less annoying and more endearing.


    He took a drink from his own beer bottle, giving a deep sigh as he let himself relax, a few moments of silence permeating the pair until Damian dropped a question he¡¯d wanted to ask for a while.


    ¡°So Terry, what¡¯s with the bottle of whiskey? Seems silly bringing something you can¡¯t use as your personal item.¡±


    Every soldier had the ability to bring certain items from home, up to a certain weight limit, to maintain morale as they travelled around the Galaxy defending the Terran Alliance from external threats. In Damian¡¯s own locker he had several keepsakes from his own home planet. Terry had used up most of his own allowance with a bottle of Terran made whiskey. This technically wasn¡¯t against the rules, but the item was constantly held under lock and key out of reach of a potential ¡®event¡¯.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ special, made by my grandpa. Before I joined up, I¡¯d never even left Tennessee, all this stuff in the Galaxy going on, and I spent the first twenty odd years of my life not doin¡¯ much.¡± Terry replied. ¡°I didn¡¯t get to meet my grandpa, but I did live in the house he¡¯d built, and spend my summers fishing in the cabin he made. I know he would have been real excited about the galaxy and stuff. So I decided to sign up: see aliens, shoot some slavers, travel the universe. So I¡¯m bringing it with me, in a little way I¡¯m bringing him with me as well. Then, when it¡¯s all done, I¡¯ll take that bottle that he made that¡¯s now travelled the galaxy with me, and I¡¯ll drink it right back where it started at the cabin he left behind.¡±


    Seconds passed in silence as the Terran finished speaking with a surprising sincerity, an impressive amount of seriousness being imparted with Terry¡¯s words. Damian gave a small soft smile.


    ¡°So, has travelling the galaxy been everything you expected it to be and more?¡±


    ¡°Of course! I made an alien buddy, you¡¯re the best battle teddy a man could dream for. I fully expect you to be sat by my side next to that lake, that¡¯s a promise!¡±


    ¡ª----------------------


    Date: 76 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    The morning sun did little to fight back the chill that hung in the air, clinging to your body like the light mist that had rolled in during the morning hours. Damian had spent the night in the only Bed and Breakfast in town, before heading out at the crack of dawn to begin his journey. Now, he stood at the edge of the small Terran town, hovering over a wooden picnic bench and slowly going through the list of items he¡¯d brought with him.


    He could see them spread out in front of him, enough supplies and materials for two days of hiking among the Smokey Mountains, and of course, the bottle of whiskey. Oversized and far too heavy for such a trek, but important nevertheless. Damian stared at it, the simple bottle having been sealed a long time ago, over a hundred Terran years if you didn¡¯t count the time the species had been stuck in stasis. A faded paper label with hard to read handwriting showing the man who¡¯d originally brewed this so long ago. It felt heavy in his paws as he picked it up, held down by history and the importance the container was filled with.


    ¡°You must be Damian.¡±


    The voice caused the Hatil to jump, the bottle in his paws trembling for a moment before he managed to set it down and turn to look at the newcomer who had snuck up behind him: a plainly dressed woman. It was difficult to tell the real age of a Terran, since the species had long since learned how to combat the toll of ageing, their medical technology leaving them effectively immortal if they were never killed. Most took the appearance from their mid-twenties regardless of actual age.


    But there was something in her eyes that suggested she was far older than Damian, as the look in a Terrans¡¯ eyes as they aged was the one thing technology couldn¡¯t hide, the burden of years pushing against that window to their soul. The Hatil also knew exactly who she was, having seen her various video calls Terry had made back home. A guilt shot through his heart, as he saw her, leaving him speechless as the woman stood in front of him.


    ¡°People around here do like a good gossip. I¡¯d heard a Hatil had visited his house, figured it¡¯d be you.¡±


    She spoke softly, sadly, both of them knowing why and not needing to say the reason.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Damian finally choked out the response, not being able to live his eyes from the ground. ¡°I really am sorry, I should¡¯ve been able to-¡±


    ¡°Nonsense, none of that blame talk, he wouldn¡¯t want it.¡± The Terran cut him off abruptly, her stern voice leaving no doubt that such words would not be accepted here. ¡°I¡¯m just here for a quick hello, before you head off. You''re going to the cabin, right?¡±


    Damian kept his head down, unable to respond, instead simply giving a small nod as silence permeated the morning air, the Hatil feeling far colder than the temperature would allow for.


    ¡°Good.¡± The Teran final spoke, her voice full of her own grief and sadness as she stared at the alien. ¡°Every time we talked he spoke about you, you know. About his ¡®awesome alien friend¡¯. So excited. He¡¯d be very happy to see you there. It¡¯s just the right thing to do.¡±


    ¡ª-------------------------


    Date: 75 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    ¡°Hold on buddy!¡±


    Reality faded in and out as Damian was dragged along for the ride. Noises, sounds, lights, all swirling and running together as consciousness faded in and out. There had been a lot of blood after the Hagorthian had bitten into the Hatil, blood that was medically important to keep the various body parts that made up his person running. Nothing made sense, the mass of confusion stopping proper thoughts from forming as the world went on without Damian.


    ¡°Come on Damian, I got you!¡±


    There was also pain. Enough pain to occasionally jolt that Hatil¡¯s mind back into consciousness, fractured snapshots of what was going on around him: Being dragged along a rubble filled pavement. A mass of gunfire, shooting at the enemy. Explosions, fire, noise. Staring up at the ceiling of the transport carrier.


    ¡°No, the Medigel won¡¯t work! He¡¯s a Hatil, get me his supply kit!¡±


    That was the one constant through the confusion. Terry¡¯s voice. Filled with fear, with worry, through the swarm of noises and lights, he was there by Damian''s side while he floated in and out of consciousness, a leaf on the wind of life pulling him too and fro.


    ¡°I promised I¡¯d show you where I grew up, I promise I¡¯d show you the lakes and mountains. You gotta pull through this!¡±


    Consciousness returned slowly to Damian, like a thick treacle dripping lazily out of a bottle, the signals to his brain not making any sense as his injury addled mind tried to piece together what he was seeing, what he was feeling.


    Damian was lying down. He could see the military issued portable stretcher, floating on its power, along with all the medical equipment he lugged around with him at all times, attached to various parts of his body. The extra weight he''d carried with him through the last four years of his military career had always been a pain, but right now it was keeping his life-threatening injuries at bay.


    The next thing he saw was Terry, just out of reach, a determined desperate look on his face as he fired his weapon. All of the Terrans were doing so, hundreds of them, shouting and firing with the ferocity they were well known for, all the while enemies assaulted their position. Crowds of the native population were rushing behind them, thousands of civilians trying to avoid the fighting, trying to make their way to the safety of the Terran Alliance ships dragging them off planet.


    Everything was a mass of chaos. Damian clearly had missed some developments during his injury, he wasn¡¯t sure why they were evacuating, the Hatil had no clue how badly the battle had turned; with the Estorians bringing in a mass of new reinforcements to push back the Terrans now crippled military force. What he did know was he was supposed to help.


    Damian tried to get up, pushed back by a wave of tiredness, and a feeling of¡­ wrongness in his body. There was no pain, the amount of painkillers the Hatil had pumped through his veins was making sure of that, but the way his leg and hip ground against itself, even in its immobilizing cast, triggered the instinct that moving right now was wrong.


    It also triggered a series of bleeps and alerts from the small medical devices attached to Damian, causing Terry to turn around in panic, the well-meaning man rushing over to the Hatil¡¯s side as he realized his friend was awake.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake! Quick! Someone get him on the ship! You¡¯re going to be OK buddy!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s happening? What¡¯s going on?¡±


    Damian tried to get up again, this time, pushed back onto the stretcher by Terry¡¯s hand placed on his chest. The Terran gave a strained smile, before glancing back at where the fighting was going on.


    ¡°We¡¯re getting off the planet, evacuating everyone we can. Get on the ship and I¡¯ll be following right behind, just as soon as we¡¯ve gotten everyone else to safety.¡±


    The Hatil once again tried to get up, this time barely moving as the damage to his body overwhelmed him, striping his mind of the ability to fight as he felt himself start to move away from his friend by unseen hands pulling his stretcher away to safety.


    ¡°No, no, I need to help you. I can¡¯t leave you.¡±


    The Hatil voice was tired, mumbling and slurring as he felt his mind slowly drifting back into a painkiller induced state of unconsciousness. Terry just gave a smile and a thumbs up in response, shouting out a final statement before diving back into the fighting. One final statement before Damian¡¯s vision darkened, and he saw his friend for the last time.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. I promise.¡±


    ¡ª--------------------------


    Date: 76 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    It was a beautiful place. The mountains and pine forests stretched off as far as the eye could see, the mist rolling in between the rivers and trees, reflecting the morning sun in a swirling mass. The sound of wildlife emanated through the land as Damian trudged onwards, the singing of birds and the sounds of far off creatures creating a soothing backdrop to what most people would consider to be a good day¡¯s hiking.


    The Hatil didn¡¯t find it soothing at all. The trail would have been difficult even for a Terran; The path Damian was taking was rarely used, barely even a path, not marked on most maps and dragged any would-be hiker through mud sodden routes and steep inclines. Terrans were well known for their stamina, able to traverse long distances before becoming tired, and the Hatil were not known for such feats of strength.


    In addition, his leg continued to hurt, each step a dull thudding of pain, a reminder of what happened a year ago. His physical therapist would be very disappointed to know about what Damian was doing, but he didn¡¯t really care. This was something he had to do, something he had to see to the end.


    Minutes turned to hours as the little mammal pushed on, forcing back any sense of tiredness or the desire to surrender. He made a promise, that was something he was planning on keeping. His body ached, not just his bad leg, but everything from the tips of his floppy ears, to the bottoms of his paws cried out for him to stop. Yet he continued, only collapsing in rest whenever physically required, looking at the map and the miles still left to go, before continuing on again.


    Normal hikers might have been taken aback by the natural beauty of the landscape, trying to take pictures or drawings of the local fauna, but the Hatil was here for one reason only, and that was to push on towards his destination.


    The sun continued on its path across the sky, turning from a bright noon sun to a soft orange sunset as Damian finally climbed the final path towards his destination. It had taken longer than expected, partly because of the Hatil¡¯s physical limitations, partly because the directions he¡¯d gotten from Terry all that time ago had been unhelpfully vague in places. But after a full day¡¯s hiking, he was finally here.


    The lake sat hidden between the trees and mountains, off the beaten path and known only to those local to the area, a pristine body of clear water that reflected the skyline to create a never ending sunset. Sat at the end of the lake, was a small cabin, just as had been described. Damian gave a sigh of relief, making the final steps over to the structure.


    It wasn¡¯t a grand thing, made out of logs and mud, calling it a cabin might be a stretch for the single room structure. A workshop, a place? Whatever it was, the lock on the door opened as the Hatil inserted the rusted key, the door swinging open to reveal a small dusty space inside, illuminated by the sunset streaming in through the window.


    A series of workbenches could be seen inside, holding the contents of twenty years of Terry¡¯s summers. Engravings carved in the wooden walls from a child that no longer existed, fishing gear that would never be cast again, drawings of birds and other animals left discarded and covered in dust on various tables. Damian walked through it all, idly staring at this time capsule that belonged to his once Terran friend, before giving a sigh and leaving it behind.


    Damian looked out onto the lake as he sat down upon an old weathered bench, taking a moment to rest and stare out at the clear water, the perfect reflection only occasionally broken by ripples of fish moving underneath. Ten, fifteen minutes, wondering just how many days and nights had Terry sat in this exact same location while he grew up.


    Then with a sad sigh, he opened his bag, pulling out the bottle of whiskey and two glasses that he¡¯d dragged all the way out to this location. The whiskey that had been made by Terry¡¯s ancestors, that had travelled the galaxy before being brought all the way back here. The top was twisted off with a satisfying pop, before Damian slowly filled the two glasses he¡¯d set in front of himself. He reached out with his own paw and picked up the glass closest to him, toasting it to a friend that didn¡¯t exist. Then with a simple movement drank the liquid in one chug as the sun continued to set.


    Just as he¡¯d promised to do.

 The Bastard Squad

    Date: 76 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    ¡°This must be a war crime.¡±


    Major Sumaya Franklin looked down at the document she had been handed, the proposal lying on her desk, causing a confused grimace to form on her lips. Such proposals weren''t anything new in Sumaya¡¯s job: much of her time was spent sitting in this office, day after day, looking over and approving some of the many thousands of requests a military might make. New initiatives, upgrades, weapons: everything a modern galactic army needed.


    This suggestion that had been placed on her desk was different. It was the kind of thing that potential future people might make damming documentaries about, an idea that seemed crazy and somehow¡­ Heretical


    ¡°We checked with the lawyers, Ma¡¯am. They stated the complete opposite, that since they are all legal Terran citizens, that denying such a request might fall foul of several equality laws.¡±


    Niall O¡¯connor spoke up as he stood opposite to the Major, a simple professional tone to his voice as he watched her thumb through the document he''d written, proofread, and then provided her. He''d created many such documents during his career, as the military had many problems, and his job was to create problem solvers. To put the right pieces together and create a tool that dealt with the niggling issues the rest of the military couldn¡¯t.


    If he was being honest, this was one of the weirder ones he¡¯d put together. It wasn¡¯t even his idea: the people referenced in the document had been the ones to suggest this new covert operations squad, Niall had just put together the feasibility study and done some of the legwork to get the paperwork. He could feel a little sympathy for Sumaya, as everyone he¡¯d shown the proposal to had fallen squarely into one of two camps: ¡®This is awesome¡¯, or ¡®This won¡¯t end well¡¯.


    The Major had nothing against uplifts. As soon as they were technologically able, humanity had uplifted their animal companions into sapience, bringing their lifelong friends to the stars and beyond, granting them increased dexterity and intelligence through extensive genetic modification. The vast majority of these now Terran citizens were once dogs or cats, with a lesser smattering of parrots, hamsters, rabbits or other common pets. Sumaya didn¡¯t mind those, they were good people. Even the exotic uplifts were mostly fine, the result of a few crazy people who had decided to uplift their pet racoon or alligator. She could still understand those to some extent. These uplifts however¡­


    ¡°I know it¡¯s not the politically correct thing to say, but why were these uplifts even created? Out of every animal on God¡¯s green Earth, someone chose these species.¡±


    ¡°Most people would get offended by that, although having spoken with the members of the group myself, they¡¯d be inclined to agree.¡±


    The individuals Niall had spoken to were just as strange as their creation, each one fully aware of the reputation they held, almost taking it with pride, the bad boys of the Terran people, a sign that sometimes the Terran chaos went a little too far.


    ¡°Look at this one: Legion. Never mind why they were uplifted, I want to know how. Doesn¡¯t the uplift process require a minimum amount of¡­ brainpower to work with?¡±


    ¡°The how is complicated. Something about a biological communal mind, taking advantage of their lack of individuality to form a consciousness in large groups. Makes them functionally immortal as long as their egg batches are never destroyed. As for the ¡®why¡¯...¡±


    Niall paused for a moment, reading from his own notes on the group.


    ¡°Legion¡¯s creator was a Dr. Fyodor Dmitrev. After he uplifted the first one, his given reason during the press conference was, and I quote: ¡®Because I¡¯m the smartest person alive you bitches, I can do what I want¡¯. He then went on a three-hour-long drunken profanity filled rant for the rest of the press event. Ended up creating five of the uplifts in total, until one of his creations killed him.¡±


    Legion wasn¡¯t the only one of the proposed group that had an ¡®interesting¡¯ upbringing, all of them did. Nobody who would uplift these animals would be considered normal, or even stable. Frankly it was a miracle any of the uplifts ended up even slightly functional in the end considering their creation.


    ¡°That tracks with what I¡¯d expect.¡±


    Sumaya continued skimming through the document, feeling a pit of despair in her stomach as she continued to read. No matter their apprehension of this supposed project, she couldn¡¯t argue that it wasn¡¯t going to be effective. Each of them were already in the Terran military, each with a long list of accolades and successful missions under their belt. Besides the obvious negative PR, there was no good reason to say no, and no good reason to potentially alienate current highly effective military assets.


    ¡°Can we at least change the name?¡± Sumaya finally said, shaking her head. ¡°It really sends the wrong message.¡±


    Niall gave a chuckle at that, shaking his head in response.


    ¡°That was one of their hard lines, they see it as a badge of honour, who they are, what they are. They¡¯re strangely protective of how people see them.¡±


    Sumaya resisted the urge to sigh, instead weighing up the pros and cons of keeping this group of highly effective soldiers happy, and the reputation hit should it become known that she signed off on something like this. Visions of various headlines ran through her mind ¡°Major Franklin signs off warcrime committing death squad¡± and ¡°Major Franklin: Racist refuses to let uplifts fight for our nation.¡±. It only took a few moments for the pros to outweigh the cons. Realistically, nobody in the long term would care as long as the group maintained their professionalism, and this wasn¡¯t even the craziest thing approved in the Terran military this week.


    ¡°Fine. I give my approval for ¡®The Bastard Squad¡¯¡±.


    ¡ª-----------------------


    Raxl didn¡¯t like guarding things. Raxl didn¡¯t like a great number of things, mostly anything that didn¡¯t involve fighting or eating. She was a Hagorthian, a giant species of reddish brown lizard that had evolved the aggressive trait of never stopping their growth, fuelling a biological desire to continually fight and eat in order to sustain this never ending requirement for resources. Hagorthian culture was filled with a constant obligation to prove your own strength through fighting, the species having travelled the stars conquering planets, demanding those they enslaved to provide worthy challenges and food sources.


    Many external researchers had speculated on how the Hagorthians had even managed to build a civilization able to create FTL travel, a few noting the species seemed to take great leaps forward whenever they were led by the very, very few born with exceptional intelligence. None of those had appeared for quite some time, however, as recently in the last 100 years they had allied themselves with 4 other slaving species, calling themselves the Estorian Empire. This empire had unsurprisingly found themselves in a wide spanning war against the slaver hating Terrans and their allies.


    Raxl gave an absent-minded growl as she stood in place, weapon in hand, trying to at least pretend that she was keeping a look-out for any potential threats. The machine behind her glowed and did¡­ something. She wasn¡¯t sure what exactly, the annoying bird who had handed it over to them said something about blocking waves, quantum entanglement, and a bunch of other words far too long for her liking. Raxl also didn¡¯t like long words, nothing in her life was complicated enough for any word larger than eight letters, and that was only if you included the apostrophe in the word fightin¡¯.


    The Lelzoil were also one of the members of the Estorian Empire, the brightly coloured xenophobic avians the complete opposite to the Hagorthians, focusing on the power of intelligence and extracting knowledge from the universe at any cost. As much as Raxl would have been more than happy to grab the annoying talking weak bird and bite it in half, supposedly they had a solution for the even more annoying Terran problem.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Raxl both loved and hated the Terrans. On the one hand, the strange primates were always a good fight. Sure they were small, but then what species wasn¡¯t when compared with the Hagorthians? No matter their size, they always had a fight in them, the willingness to go head-to-head in combat when required. Killing a Terran was never an easy thing: it was a honourable and proud thing.


    Raxl was covered in an assortment of trophies from her nearly 140 years of fighting, teeth and bones strung together into bracelets, fangs and claws showing every major kill she¡¯d ever successfully accomplished. There were the fangs of her first mentor, the jawbone of the first Juiral she ever hunted, and of course, nestled on the side of her hip, was the primate skull of a Terran she¡¯d bested in combat. From before the war, back when less savoury and adrenaline seeking Terrans would visit Hagorthian space to engage in the many acts of ritualized combat that existed.


    Which was the real problem: While they fought well, Terrans didn¡¯t do war correctly. They hid behind automated drones to do their warfare, focusing on losing as few people as possible instead of the glory of combat. Annoying scraps of metal brought no glory when destroyed, no thrill of battle, and being killed by one was just embarrassing and shameful. Supposedly the machine the birds had brought with them stopped the stupid metal not-soldiers, forcing the primates to fight this war properly.


    The sound of scuffling could be heard as two of the soldiers under Raxl¡¯s command started fighting, the boredom of having to guard something causing two of the males to start bickering over something unimportant. She could see them both slashing at each other with their claws, attempting to bite each other''s neck as the pair tussled amongst each other. There was nothing wrong with this per se, if anyone had a problem with another Hagorthian it was perfectly reasonable to decide who was right through might.


    But they had a job to do, guarding this item was important for some reason, so this wasn¡¯t a time to start fighting amongst themselves. Raxl rushed over to the quarrelling pair, giving out her own roar of rage as she grabbed the two young reptilians and slammed their heads together.


    ¡°Oy, both of you, stop it!¡± She shouted at them, teeth bared as she looked down upon the two of them. ¡°We have work to do. Leave fightin¡¯ till later!¡±


    The younger of the pair turned to confront this new interruption into his struggle for placement and dominance, before he realized who Raxl was, the hiss in his throat dying down as he kept his eyes pointed to the ground, mumbling an apology. She was the oldest one here, making her the largest at a giant 13ft tall of muscle and potential pain. Challenging her officially would be a lethal endeavour.


    Not that any of this would actually matter, because five seconds later, the young Hagorthian soldier¡¯s head exploded, spraying brain matter and gore across the room as his body collapsed in a heap. The bang of the gunshot echoed across the buildings and sand dunes that made up this town, startling the group into action as they tried to work out what had just happened. The sound of another booming gunshot bounced from wall to wall as another Hagorthian dropped with a new hole in his chest, spurring the entire group to desperately find cover.


    More shots rang out with deadly accuracy, the sound of Terran made gunfire bringing death and destruction. The primates were one of the few species who had kept their physical bullets when transitioning to space, the risk of such weapons puncturing a pressurized spacefaring vessel was offset by their love for things that went bang. And go bang they did. The Hagorthian¡¯s were a hardy species, their tough armour difficult to penetrate for most firearms. Of course, the Terran response to such a problem was ¡®bring more gun¡¯. The Terran who was shooting at them from their vantage point had brought a whole lot of gun.


    Raxl poked her head out slowly from cover, scanning the surroundings for any sign of where the attack was coming from. She spotted a flash of light from a building across the sand covered streets as another shot was fired, the bullet ricocheting off the cover she was hiding behind.  It would have been imperceptible to most species, but the Hagorthians had exceptional eyesight. In the brief moment before being forced back into cover, Raxl swore she could see feathers fluttering in the wind and sound of¡­ honking, taunting her and her squad as she was pinned down. Of course, if you¡¯d have asked any Terran about what that sound meant, they¡¯d regale you with tales of aggressive birds from hell, territorial and evil. Nobody wanted to mess with a Canadian Goose.


    ¡°They firing from over there. Buildin¡¯ to north. Use the Breacher to take the entire thing down.¡±


    She pointed at the location she¡¯d spotted the shots from, and then the heavy mechanized vehicle that the Hagorthians used to assault any highly defended locations, the cannon on the top of the tank easily strong enough to cause the Terran¡¯s vantage point to collapse. Three of the Hagorthians made a break for it, one immediately collapsing as another shot rang out, two of the reptilians successfully breaking cover and making it to their vehicle of war, desperately wrenching the door open to get to safety.


    Unfortunately for them, there was none to be found.


    The Terrans had perfectly predicted the Hagorthian¡¯s moves, meaning they were ready far in advance for the reptiles to try and use the machine. Insects poured out of the machine, yellow, angry and looking for blood. A scream sounded out, a rare thing, not a battle cry or a roar of defiance, but a high-pitched scream of absolute terror as the duo were consumed by the stinging insects, all rational thought gone as pain consumed them.


    Not that any Terran would blame them. Hornets were well known to be the most evil of insects.


    They thrashed and swatted at the swarm as hundreds of them stung at their vital parts: blinding them and injecting the unfortunate Hagorthians with a lethal amount of Hornet venom. A few swipes connected, ending with insects tumbling to the ground, not that this mattered: Because their name was Legion, and Legion was many.


    Raxl stood, pinned down in her position, unable to move as chaos overtook her squad, half of the number already dead or heavily wounded, gunshots still raining down upon their position while the insect swarm continued attacking members. Everything had just generally gone to hell. In the middle of all of this she noticed a figure creeping towards the machine they were guarding. Black and white, sharp claws meant for digging, wearing the distinctive gear and uniform of the Terran Alliance. It was doing¡­ something to the machine. It seemed to notice Raxl staring at it, and even though the thing was less than a foot tall, it glared back at her before going back to what it was doing.


    Of course, it didn¡¯t care about the 13-foot tall reptile: Honey badgers don¡¯t give a shit.


    Luckily for Raxl, someone closer to the machine also saw what was going on, raising their weapon to stop the Terran from doing whatever they were doing to the thing they were guarding. Then, in a blur of brown, the Hagorthian disappeared, leaving only a hole in the wall that the unfortunate reptile had been tackled through. It was a sight that would strike fear in the hearts of anyone from Canada, the bellowing sheer power of a moose made them one of the deadliest creatures on the planet Earth.


    Raxl couldn¡¯t concentrate on the new problem however, as the strange creature messing with the machine had finished their work, making a break for it in a full out sprint and launching themselves at the closest unfortunate Hagorthian, the little black and white uplift clawing their way up the giant reptile as the Hagorthian desperately tried to swipe and grab at the thing.


    Unsuccessfully, as eventually the Terran climbed their way up the soldier, dodging attacks left and right, before attaching themselves to reptile¡¯s face, the Hagorthian now openly roaring in frustration and pain at the claws digging into their flesh. Not that they would have this problem for much longer; the uplift pulling a dagger from their belt and repeatedly slamming it into the soldier¡¯s eye socket


    ¡°Die! Die! Die! Die!¡± Each screamed word full of manic angry energy, each word punctuated with a stab as the crazy Terran was quickly covered from head to toe in blood as the Hagorthian collapsed to the floor with a thud. ¡°Who else wants some! I brought enough to share!¡±


    Whether to not the honey badger had enough to share would never be known however, as the goal of the Terran special covert operation attacking their position, unofficially known as the ¡®The Bastard Squad¡¯, had successfully distracted the Hagorthian defenders long enough to allow the honey badger the chance to dig towards the machine that had been holding off the Terran¡¯s automated systems, and plant the explosive.


    An explosive that went off a little too close to Raxl. A mixture of pain and confusion ran through the Hagorthian squad leader as she tossed several feet by the explosion that tore what she was guarding into tiny metallic shreds. Confusion and disarray entered her mind, quite literally as her brain slammed at unsafe speeds into the side of her skull, reducing her consciousness to a blurry mess of noises and sensations.


    Raxl wasn¡¯t sure how long she was out for. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? When she came back to her senses, the fighting had long since ceased. The rest of the guards were dead, the signs of what the Terrans had done were everywhere: Crushed against walls, lying on the floor or just generally splattered amongst the sands. The Hagorthian tried to get up with an agonizing pain, only to feel a large heavy foot stomp down on her chest, belonging to the deadliest land mammal on planet Earth, the uplifted Hippo glaring down at her, weapon pointed at her head as Raxl froze.


    She could see all five of them now, gathered around her, strange creatures from earth, uplifts Raxl had never seen before. Humans loved their children, whether their digital creations in AI, or the pets and competitions they have uplifted. Even they could admit that granting these five animals in particular sapience was¡­ a little bit unorthodox.


    These five knew they had a reputation, of their unlikely origin and what they were known for amongst humans. They were more than happy to fulfil this reputation when it was needed. Especially when some upstart shitty slaving empire decided to threaten those they called friends and family.


    The hippo leaned down, pushing the gun against Raxl¡¯s head as she stayed very, very still, giving her a close up view of her tusks and powerful jaw. A jaw that could crush her head open like a ripe watermelon, a jaw that spoke words that threatened violence and pain against those who would go against their creators.


    ¡°I heard you talking shit about Earth.¡±

 How to care for your Terran

    Date: 77 PST (Post Stasis time)


    Note from publisher: This document was recovered alongside the arrest of the main perpetrators of the ¡°TerranBuddy¡± criminal organization, who were later found guilty of trafficking several thousand sapient members of the ¡°Terran¡± species. It seems to be a guide for any prospective buyers of a Terrain on their care and maintenance.


    The publisher would like to remind all Ghirlinn citizens that no matter how ¡®cute¡¯ the Terrans are, kidnapping a person of any species is illegal, and can be punished with up to thousands of years of altered reality imprisonment. Just because the Terrans are not as technologically advanced as we are doesn¡¯t mean they should be treated with any less respect.


    Please stop adopting and kidnapping Terrans, and for adoption specifically, get prior consent from the Terrans in question.


    Signed: Janirlin Eagiral - Ghirlinn diplomat to the Terran Conclave.


    ¡ª----------------------


    How to care for your Terran.


    Thank you prospective buyer, for your interest in the hottest new craze sweeping Ghirlinn space: Terrans! A full catalogue of the specimens we have to offer has already been provided to you along with this document! Before purchasing any Terran, all prospective buyers should read this guide and give proper thought to whether they have the right lifestyle and personality to take care of the adorable primates!


    Please note that any indication of mistreatment or irresponsible care of your Terran will result in consequences. We here at TerranBuddy have a reputation for ensuring each Terran will live happy, enriching lives when taken care of by their new owners, and we expect you, as a fine customer of TerranBuddy products, to do the same!


    Again, we thank you for your consideration, and hope this document is informational in your decision to purchase your very own Terran.


    What is ¡°A Terran¡±.


    Apart from the biggest thing to hit Ghirlinn space? Terrans are actually three different completely different grouping of species, which are broadly designated into:


    <blockquote>


    Humans: The adorable huggable little primates you¡¯ve seen videos of, and the ones you care about. Omnivore bipedal primates with a propensity for chaos.


    Uplifts: Humans throughout their history have accepted various ¡®companion animals¡¯ into their lives. Once they discovered rudimentary genetic engineering, they gave these animals a level of sapience.


    AI: Humans also have created their own Artificial/Digital sapience, and managed to avoid the common pitfalls that result in an AI uprising. Even more shockingly they live with their creations as equals, both sides happily cohabitating within the same spaces and governmental structure!


    </blockquote>


    You read that right. Humans both made friends with everything they could find on their home planet, then bonded with them so hard they considered themselves the one and the same. Yes, it is as cute as it sounds.


    Terrans come from the [Milky Way] part of the supercluster, and are a Class B civilization with basic FTL, who have managed to befriend a large section of their local galaxy. While they are a major player in their own bubble, they lack major technologies when compared to the Ghirlinn, so keep this in mind.


    <blockquote>


    TerranBuddy Top Tip! Don¡¯t suggest the other two types of Terran are lesser or not equal to the original creators: Otherwise your Terran will get sad!


    </blockquote>


    Caring for your Terran


    Terrans are both easy to care for and require a lot of effort to keep healthy and happy. Physically, your Terran is a hardy fellow, able to thrive in temperatures and climates as varied as the planet they originate from. While they are the most comfortable around [20 degrees], they can survive or even thrive at a range of [-40 to 40 degrees], in a large variety of environments. Many Terrans will even be happier if you give them a less than ideal environment to reside in, because they like the challenge.


    Yes it¡¯s adorable, don¡¯t worry too much about it, Terrans love to place themselves in ¡®danger¡¯. The excitement of not dying is something many Terrans enjoy. Providing them safe ways to nearly die can be a great bonding experience with your Terran, such as:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Allowing them to trek/hike/explore through dangerous territory.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Engaging in the consumption of certain poisons (Capsaicin and Alcohol in particular)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Bounty hunting pirate vessels. Avoid using any technology of class A or higher to avoid ¡®solving the problem¡¯: Your Terran should feel like an active part of apprehending the target.</li>


    </ul>


    Feeding your Terran is simple, as most edible items are Terran safe (Please see full list of non-Terran safe food items in Appendix A.), and the primates will benefit if you¡¯re able to provide them with a large range of different diet items. The little guys really enjoy sugar and caffeine, however care should be taken not to overfeed your Terran with such items: Yes, their expressive eyes will demand you give them more treats, but overfeeding or poor diet can cause health issues for your new buddy!


    Terrans also love things that are soft. Pillows, cushions, items to snuggle into and wrap themselves in. Be sure to keep a wide variety of different comforting objects scattered about their environment, and allow them to explore and display their personality at their own pace!


    <blockquote>


    TerranBuddy Top Tip! Most Terrans require various body coverings for their own mental health, regardless of the comfort of the environment. Do not be alarmed if they refuse to remove these pelts: It isn¡¯t a sign that their enclosure is incorrectly configured, but rather normal Terran behaviour.


    </blockquote>


    Keeping your Terran happy!Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    This is where the difficulty of maintaining your Terran may appear. The primates are not a low maintenance companion, and require a significant amount of effort and time to keep happy and mentally stimulated.


    Terrans are, as a rule, social animals, with extended periods of isolation being harmful to their health. If your schedule doesn''t permit you regular interaction with your charge, we suggest you select a minimum of two Terrans from our catalogue. (TerranBuddy takes no responsibility for damage caused by unsupervised Terrans, purchases of more than one Terran should be part of a plan to ensure proper supervision of your charges).


    If that is not feasible, then Terrans will bond with practically any lifeforms that aren''t trying to kill them (and often even ones that are). In a pinch, providing them with a selection of ¡°googly eyes¡± (purchasable from the TerranBuddy store) and objects to stick them to can provide temporary companionship.


    <blockquote>


    TerranBuddy Top tip! Your Terran will give your various inanimate objects cute little names, often crude puns or the name of the object itself slightly modified in a cute way! Be sure to treat these items with extra respect!


    </blockquote>


    However, even when given proper social interaction, the main number one rule is: Never let your Terran get bored. Terrans are high maintenance companions, highly intelligent and curious about everything. If you leave them mentally unstimulated for long periods of time, they will find their own stimulation.


    This means you will arrive home to find your entire kitchen disassembled, even if you didn''t give them any tools (they will make their own). While these hijinks sound (and frankly are) adorable, living with them can be disruptive or even dangerous. Unattended and under-stimulated Terrans can be deadly.


    The little primates, while lacking the technological knowledge to build or even understand most of our technology, have an annoying knack for getting things working ¡®just enough¡¯ through extensive pattern recognition and willingness to hit buttons until things go. While good owners will use these abilities to provide their Terrans with various puzzle boxes in order to access treats, if left unattended this can cause your Terran to gain access to technologies they don¡¯t quite understand.


    The following incidents have been noted in the last three months:


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">One Terran managed to warp their owners'' vessel into the local government¡¯s central administration. Yes, we know that¡¯s impossible due to the safety features. No, we don''t know how they did it. </li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Rigging up a creation engine to create an infinite amount of peanut butter.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Causing a previously undiscovered reaction between the creation engine and a causality editor to erase ¡°themselves, their owner, and the entire vessel they were on¡± out of reality. Again, we''re not sure how they did this, or even where/when this customer is at the moment.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Opening up a Xaeal device, exposing themselves to the core within. Luckily the three kinds of cancer this gave the Terran were curable.</li>


    </ul>


    <blockquote>


    TerranBuddy Top Tip! Terrans have exceptional stamina, so provide them with plenty of opportunities to exercise and burn off that energy!


    </blockquote>


    Entertaining your Terran


    Luckily, Terrans are exceptionally easy to keep stimulated with a little bit of effort, as they are innately curious creatures, meaning you simply need to provide them with new experiences. 76% of our Terran catalogue ended up wandering onto our transport vessels willingly, and have not yet realised the actual status of their situation (For such Terrans, please avoid using words like ¡®¡®trafficked¡¯, ¡®captured¡¯, ¡®owned¡¯. Instead, they are ¡®guests¡¯, ¡®tourists¡¯ and ¡®diplomats¡¯)


    You can offer your Terran an entire universe of wonders that they cannot find in their home galaxy. The most mundane things are considered amazing and exciting, as long as it''s new to them. Terrans, when given new items, should be supervised heavily. Although providing new items into their environment is healthy, it''s super important to ensure they don¡¯t try to use unfamiliar technology without direct instruction.


    Terrans also love being helpful, so providing your Terran with a job to accomplish will provide your buddy with a level of self-satisfaction. Something that''s mildly complicated, but easily automated such as systemwide ship navigation or warp engine maintenance. Make it clear that this job is of importance even though it isn¡¯t, that you¡¯re ¡®depending¡¯ on the Terran to do this task.


    <blockquote>


    TerranBuddy Top Tip! Terrans are still working on an understanding of the universe where causality of actions and mass can only occupy one moment in time and space, so be careful showing them anything that breaches this understanding of three-dimensional space. Gradually introduce them to ¡®impossible¡¯ concepts to avoid causing mental trauma!


    </blockquote>


    Do¡¯s and Don¡¯t with your Terran!


    DON¡¯T worry too much. Terrans will often hum, sing, or talk to themselves. They will also often say ¡®ow¡¯ even when not hurt. This is perfectly normal behaviour and not a sign of mental trauma.


    DON¡¯T post pictures of them on social media. Remember, this is still illegal, no matter how much you want to show off your cute adorable little buddy to the world.


    DO bond with your Terran. It might come in handy, as Terrans will pack bond with anything, and in a pinch your Terran might even lie to the authorities for you if you get caught with one.


    DON¡¯T try to force a Terran to do something. Terrans are very stubborn, and will very specifically do the complete opposite to what you want them to do, just because you told them they had to do it. Reverse psychology is often the best way forwards, unless they realise that¡¯s what you¡¯re doing.


    DO be ready to adopt any wild animals that a Terran may find, regardless of how dangerous the animals might be. ¡°Can we keep it please¡± is a key indicator that you¡¯re about to get a new pet.


    DON¡¯T give them access to fire. For some reason Terrans really like setting stuff on fire, and will set stuff on fire regardless of safety to the local environment.


    DO be willing to go where the Terran¡¯s interest take you, letting them take the lead on your activities is a great way to get them involved in solving their own boredom. Sometimes this is going to be visiting mountains or other peaceful scenery, sometimes this is going to be aiding in a revolution against an authoritarian government.


    DON¡¯T leave more than one Terran together alone for extended periods of time, especially if they have realised the reality of the ¡®trafficking Terrans¡¯ situation. Terran chaos and affinity for ¡°getting bored and doing stuff¡¯ increases exponentially with each Terran within a group. Having 5 or more together is the same risk as having an unstable anti-matter bomb sat next to the warp engine.


    DO be sure to buy plenty of Terran approved items from the TerranBuddy store! Everything from Roomba''s to caffeinated snacks can be purchased from our stores!


    As a final reminder, if you choose to purchase your very own Terran companion, be sure to contact our 35/9 around the clock support team for any issues or emergencies!


    ¡ª----------------


    Publishers note: The TerranBuddy criminal organization was eventually dismantled and apprehended after a group of Terrans broke out of storage, and then rigged up an improvised explosive that broke the ship¡¯s causality stabilizer. This shattered ripple in time was quickly noticed by the Ghirlinn government resulting in several hundred arrests of both the organization¡¯s members and customers (Although the latter has been hindered by a number of the purchased Terrans in question often refusing to testify or ¡®snitch¡¯ against their now Ghirlinn friend.)


    All recovered Terrans were offered free transport back to their home galaxy, with an acceptance rate of 43%. We are keeping an eye on those who remained to ensure the safety of both them, and the people they interact with.

 Danger Tourism

    Date: 41 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    ¡°But that¡¯s dangerous, you shouldn¡¯t do that. The volcanoes are erupting, the springs are closed.¡±


    The Ozerians were a perfectly rational species. It was hard not to be, taking the most logical course of action was something that just¡­ happened, for them. Some might think it was their communal lifestyle, with each member of the species being part of something bigger, creating a culture where breaking from the expected outcome resulted in individuals being shunned for being a danger to the rest of them.


    Others thought it was their XK wave sensitivity. Sure, they weren¡¯t the most attuned in the galaxy, they couldn¡¯t transmit thoughts telepathically or control objects with thought alone, but they did get a ¡®sense¡¯ of what might happen in the future. It wasn¡¯t exact, as the concept of time having consequence and causality was a primitive and incorrect science, but it did mean that each member of the Ozerian species had a vague sense of what might or might not happen in the future.


    This meant that when the mass of volcanoes on their home planet of Patelon all started erupting at once, they were perfectly prepared and ready to deal with the natural disaster. There had been a feeling amongst the entire population that ¡®something¡¯ big and bad was going to happen at some point, that the ground would split open as if hell itself was breaking into the world, covering vast cities and landscapes under metric tons of magma as the planet itself reformed.


    So when it did happen, they were perfectly ready. People moved calmly to the various bunkers and safe locations created for such an event, following previously practised evacuation processes. While the earth split open and volcanoes erupted across the face of their planet, the Ozerians were ready, managing the entire thing with a very little loss of life, although the economy would take some time to recover.


    ¡°Yes, I know. That''s why I''d like to visit.¡±


    The town of Tzenoi was a small place, a town of normally 3000 people high up on the rocky mountainside, mostly used as a tourist destination for the nearby hot springs. Normally being the operative word, since this was not a normal time.


    The air was filled with the smell of sulphur and smoke, billowing from the three active volcano visible from the mountainside¡¯s vantage point. The hundreds of meter high eruptions of bright blue molten rock dominated the sky, while the ever flowing rivers of lava that had destroyed countless towns stretched out into a hellish landscape below them.


    Tzenoi was currently hosting over fifty thousand people displaced from the local area, although this wasn''t too much of an issue: this had all been long planned for, with plenty of emergency bunker space and supplies to last: The Ozerians were a perfectly rational species.


    All they could do was just sit and wait for it all to blow over. Well that, and deal with the deluge of visiting Terrans.


    ¡°But that¡¯s dangerous, you shouldn¡¯t do that! The hot springs are closed¡±


    All three eyes on Lietillion¡¯s head blinked repeatedly in frustration, as they looked at the strange stupid Terran that stood across from them. The raptor was around five feet tall, needle sharp teeth clicking as she spoke with words full of annoyance. The feathers that covered her entire body glistened and glowed in the morning light as they continually changed colour, each one cycling through the entire light spectrum in waves of emotion and feeling, like a living kaleidoscope.


    She sat behind the kiosk in the small office for tourist information, the tiny building filled with now outdated data dumps about the local hot springs and other notable attractions to visit, the only other person in the room being the single male Terran standing on the other side of the desk.


    The Terrans were new to the galactic stage, having spent the last forty odd years befriending and allying themselves with anyone and everyone they could find, and generally being a chaotic nuisance to everyone they met. They were plenty fine galactic neighbours, with a tendency to get themselves into trouble, and a willingness to help even when not asked.


    It was a well known fact that if you were in trouble, that if some form of natural disaster was putting people in danger, the Terrans would be there to help. They¡¯d arrive with their logistical prowess, a heart full of empathy, and willingness to set stuff on fire.


    Apart from this time. The Ozerians didn¡¯t need any help, meaning the strange chaos primates had decided to turn up anyway just to¡­ look at stuff. Gone were the charities and humanitarian efforts, replaced instead with tourists of all things. Tourists who had gone out of their way to visit the planet during this time of volcanic activity. Which made no sense to the Ozerians, since all attractions the planet had to offer were closed. The Ozerians were a perfectly rational species after all.


    ¡°I understand that, I¡¯m not here for the springs. I¡¯m here because this planet has some of the greatest geological movements happening in the local galaxy! Volcanoes and lava flows! I just need transportation, anyone who has a spare vehicle they¡¯re not using.¡±


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    ¡°But¡­But that¡¯s dangerous! You do realize that lava is hot, right?¡±


    Lietillion felt as if they were stuck in a hellish infinite loop, where the Terran would describe a desire to do something stupid and dangerous, then the Ozerian would remind the stupid primate that it was stupid and dangerous.


    Technically, helping tourists was her job, but with the current natural disaster going on and how efficient the process of keeping the entire planet safe had been, the most Lietillion had expected to have to do was point the occasional Ozerian towards the location of the many available supplies. She didn¡¯t expect her day to be filled with having to explain to some space lemurs that ¡®fire is hot¡¯.


    This one wasn¡¯t even the first one, she had spoken to no less than four other Terrans today, each one attempting to gain passage to get a closer look at the dangerous mass of molten rock. Like moths drawn to a flame, Terrans seemed to be drawn to situations in which they could die. Lietillion could feel herself getting exasperated as the chaotic primate seemingly didn¡¯t understand the danger of the situation.


    ¡°Look, I get it, I know the risks, this isn¡¯t my first rodeo. If you know anyone in town who¡¯s willing to get me closer or let me borrow a vehicle, I¡¯ll pay 500 credits for a ride and sign whatever waivers you want.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s¡­¡±  Lietillion paused for a moment, her initial rejection of such a stupid idea being cut off by the number the Terran had given. 500 credits was a lot for such a request, and she did know a lot of people who currently had nothing else to do.


    ¡°Well¡­ I might know someone¡­¡±


    ¡ª-------------------


    The Ozerians were a perfectly rational species. However¡­ 500 credits was 500 credits. The aircraft crested the ridge slowly, the rocky mountainside giving way to the valley below, as the full power of the geological movements were shown. Pztaori could hear the gasps and exclamations of wonder from the 12 passengers he was carrying, as the full power of what was happening all over the planet came into view. While the Ozerian didn¡¯t quite understand why the Terrans he was carrying were so interested in coming all this way to see the dangerous volcanic activity, they had to admit seeing the impact of the eruptions laid out below was quite some sight.


    The skyline was dominated by the three active volcanoes in the distance, the trio of peaks causing bubbling magma to be expelled high into the air, the high sulphur content causing the rock to burn a bright blue. The molten earth flowed through the land in rivers and lakes of blue fire, carving out paths in the earth and forests below.


    Of course, just because Pztaori could understand there was a certain beauty to the absolute power of the planet they called home didn¡¯t mean they understood why these Terrans wanted to see it up close and personal. The Ozerians were a perfectly rational species. It was the kind of sight better looked at through a photo, away from any possible danger, but these crazy primates seemed to flock toward this unique and dangerous experience for no logical reason.


    Not that Pztaori really minded, the Terrans could put themselves in whatever danger they wanted if they were paying for it. As the aircraft he was piloting touched down upon the grassy clearing, he could see plenty of other vehicles piloted and driven by members of the local community also going to and fro.


    The Terrans spent money as if it was going to explode, the excitement of the volcanic eruptions causing hundreds of thousands of them to descend upon the planet. With nothing else to do but wait, a large section of the population had spent the last three weeks selling to the Terrans anything and everything related to the planet¡¯s volcanic activities. Trips, trinkets, even pieces of the cooled volcanic rock and its blue sulphuric sheen.


    Pztaori watched as the Terrans he¡¯d brought with him on this go around rushed out of his aircraft with glee, the clumsy derpy primates scattering off as soon as they could, making a straight line towards the lava flows with a reckless abandon. The Ozerian had long since given up trying to explain the dangers of hot molten rock, instead just letting the chaos lemurs do their thing in their excitement over dangerous geological activity.


    There were plenty of Terrans here, hundreds of them doing their thing, swarming around the cooling rivers of molten rock. This far away from the source the blue lava moved at a snail''s pace, steaming slightly as it made contact with the cold air, while the crazy primates of Terra did their thing. They gathered around, taking pictures with hand held devices and drones, groups of them staring and pointing. The more enterprising souls were interacting with molten rock itself, using the heat to cook food for no other reason than they could, or collecting samples using heat-resistant tools and containers.


    At least they were being safe, mostly. Several Terrans had asked Pztaori to get them even closer to the eruption, which the Ozerian had strictly refused. This was just close enough to the dangerous molten rock, thank you very much! The Ozerians were a perfectly rational species.


    Watching the silly primates do their silly primate things left Pztaori thinking about their galactic neighbours, and their seemingly infinite desire to rush into danger. The raptor had recently done some research on the Terrans, and this kind of behaviour, of flocking across the distance of space to go visiting erupting volcanoes in person, wasn¡¯t even in the top ten dangerous things they did.


    Their entire planet was one of danger, yet they took every opportunity to place themselves in harms way. Earth has been entirely explored and mapped out, able to be explored within computer simulations, yet thousands of Terrans still took the time to climb mountains, dive the deepest oceans, explore caves, or occasionally do all three at the same time. Their excessive weather conditions sounded like something out of a horror movie to Pztaori, yet hundreds of the Terrans called themselves ¡®tornado hunters¡¯ and actively sought out the dangerous meteorological conditions.


    Pztaori didn¡¯t get it. Maybe there was something special about actually being there, even if it¡¯s already been done before. To witness and experience an event, to reach the top of the mountain yourself, no matter how many others have done it before. Perhaps that was the secret to the Terran¡¯s success, that desire to be involved, to find new personal experiences no matter how dangerous or strange.


    Frankly, Pztaori would much prefer to experience such dangers from the comfort of his bed. The Ozerians were a perfectly rational species, after all.

 Innovation is Impartial - chapter 1

    Date: 0 PST (Post Stasis Time)


    There is no louder sound than that of a silence broken.


    The city had been silent for so long. There had been no music, no laughter, no sounds of children playing. The trains didn¡¯t run and nobody moved from place to place, the roads and pathways as empty as the planet itself.


    The only sounds were those of gentle scratching as thousands of little repair drones moved around the dead city, keeping each empty building intact, each abandoned garden trimmed and maintained in perfect beauty. The millions of AI that lived within this silent city worked diligently to keep the world ready for their creator''s return.


    Waiting in silence.


    Humanity had nearly killed itself. It was supposed to be a move towards godhood, a single experiment done by a private group of enthusiasts. Humanity had looked to the stars and found them empty of life, each system and planet they entered devoid of all organic matter, rocks bleached by radiation on atmosphereless worlds of dirt. After a large enough sample size had been taken, the prevailing theory was simple: humanity was alone in the universe.


    They were wrong, of course, the universe outside their local space was teeming with life of all varieties, but that didn¡¯t stop the mad lemurs of Terra from acting as if it wasn¡¯t. The fact that humans were seemingly the only sentient species in the universe didn¡¯t stop them from creating other friends out of nothing. As is often said, often the only way to ensure a job is done right, is to do it yourself.


    They built friends of stone and lighting, cobbling together the exact grouping of ones and zeros required to give code sentience, then accepted them as equals. They learned how to control DNA, twisting and upgrading the building blocks of the animal companions they had called family for so long, giving them the intelligence to understand that they were loved by humanity. Uplifts they were called. All three of the only known sentient species in the universe banded together under one new name: Terran. Human, AI, Uplift. All were united in a fight against the lonely cold of an empty nighttime sky.


    It was a time of peace and prosperity. Well, relative peace. Where Terrans are concerned, all peace is relative.


    But it wasn¡¯t enough.


    Project Genesis it was called, a simple idea. You seed a planet with empty biological material, then have the cells rapidly change and regrow at an accelerated rate in order to speed up the evolutionary process. You leave them behind for a century, then come back and see what alien life has been created. If the universe was not going to provide the friends that humanity desired, then by god humanity would do themselves. No was not an answer.


    Nobody knew when it went wrong, when project Genesis made the leap from the specially cultivated cells designed to be modified in a rapid format, to humans. The exact date everything collapsed wasn¡¯t known, but by the time people realized what was happening and why, it had been given another name: The God Plague.


    Extreme heat, cold, the vacuum of space, nearly nothing killed it. It was designed to spread itself across a varied biome, to seed a planet with rapidly changing life. Once it started doing the same to human cells, tumours and cancer would rampage around those unfortunate enough to contract the self-made disaster.


    By the time the symptoms started appearing, you only had two weeks left before the tumorous masses would strangle the life out of your body. There was no cure, the only ¡®solution¡¯ that was found involved putting the patient into stasis and hoping a cure could be found later. Even worse, there was a lengthy incubation time before anyone noticed what was happening. By the time patient zero started exhibiting strange symptoms, every planet in the system had avenues of infection, and had begun spreading towards every Terran planet.


    Then came the time of chaos.


    Humanity fought back, as it always had, but there was no fighting this self created monster. Quarantines were attempted, systems, planets and communities isolating themselves in an attempt to survive. All it took was one mistake, one infection vector, no matter how small. Others fought over resources as society quickly buckled under the strain of the virus. Stasis chambers became the currency of choice as one by one every single human got sick. Arks were sent out to escape, never to be heard from again. The bunkers and stations deep in space tried to hold out. All of them fell, all of them succumbed to the God Plague.


    Six months after the first patient exhibited symptoms, all of humanity was either trapped in stasis, or dead.


    Then came the time of silence.


    The name ¡®God Plague¡¯ had a second meaning to those left behind, the Uplifts and AI who never got sick, who had to watch as each of their friends, their creators, were forced into a never ending sleep, unknowing if they¡¯d ever awaken again. Humans had, in their painful loneliness, given them sentience. To them were gods, one and all, and the plague had struck them down, one and all.


    So they did what was expected of them, they held down the fort. They rebuilt the shattered cities, put the pieces of the Terran world back together after the 6 months of fighting, and slowly, now with an infinite amount of time to work with, began the search for a cure. Even as the Uplifts entered stasis themselves to await humanity¡¯s return, the AI creations continued on tirelessly. They learned, they improved.


    They even found what humanity had been hoping for all along: Others existed in the universe, the cold empty stars were not as empty as people once thought, outside their little bubble alien life was abundant. The AI that remained behind garnered aid from these people where they could, and slowly made progress against an impossible task.


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    For ten thousand years.


    Then came the time of celebration. Then came the time of noise.


    All over the city, stasis pods were being opened, humanity was being woken up once more, awakening cured of the God Plague. Joyous reunions filled the planet as families were reunited, Uplifts embracing those they thought they¡¯d lost forever, friends and loved ones alike finding each other once more.


    The digital channels the AI used to communicate with each other were also a flurry of excited communication. Ten thousand of years of waiting, and the gods slept no more. There was work to be done, each person still in stasis needed medical treatment, the cure provided to them before being revived, and details needed to be communicated with the rest of the Terrans around the galaxy. Each digital citizen did their part willingly, with excitement.


    Their wait was over.


    In one of the many buildings full of celebration, a strange figure stood. Not a human, Uplift or AI, Dr Kov Xavius was staring intently at the information being transmitted to her screen. She was obviously not a Terran of any kind, being a large brown and red scaled reptilian, giant claws tapping at the screen as detailed biogenetic information streamed past.


    She was a Hagthorian. The Terran AI had spent the last ten thousand years looking for any and all possible forms of help from the galaxy at large, offering riches untold for anyone able to help in their search for a cure. Dr Xavius was one such individual.


    Even for an Hagthorian she was strange, most of her species were interested in little more than fighting and eating, their forever growing forms demanding more and more resources. Xavius stood at just a little over 7ft tall, still menacing with sharp teeth and claws in her own right, but compared with the rest of her species she was a runt; a weakling, discarded by her people long ago. She was also a genius, desperately bored searching for problems to solve, and she had been the one who had cured the God Plague.


    Well, to say it was her single-handedly was incorrect, she did have ten thousand years of dedicated research to fall back on, and access to the resources of an entire species. Greatness stood on the shoulders of giants, and Xavius stood tall.


    ¡°So what¡¯s next?¡±


    She said the words softly as she watched the scene play out in front of her through the observation glass. The subject¡¯s name was Amander Blake, and like all the others had successfully been cured by the spoilers of Dr Xavius¡¯s creation. The growths had been destroyed, the virus removed, and the Terran was perfectly healthy. Xavius watched as the Human embraced an Uplift, a black Labrador by the name of Spot who had also been brought out of stasis a few days ago.


    ¡°Well, there is still a lot left to do. We need to spread the cure to the other systems, reintegrate the humans back into society, help them deal with the technological changes while they¡¯ve been gone. Then we have got the galactic community stuff, the humans realizing that aliens exist is going to be a big thing.¡±


    The voice that spoke was of an artificial quality, mostly because it was. DRAKE was an AI, and like all AI had spent the last ten thousand years attempting to help cure the God Plague. DRAKE wasn¡¯t very good at the whole science shtick, but they helped where they could, seeking out and working with plenty of non-Terran scientists over the last ten thousand years. The last thirty of these had been helping Dr Xavius, ensuring she had access to anything and everything she needed, being a personal source of information and resources for the strange Hagthorian.


    The holographic avatar DRAKE had chosen was excitable, the eastern dragon swirling around in mid-air as the AI ¡®spoke¡¯. This had been a moment ten thousand years in the making, their creator''s forced slumber was no more. Xavius did not have the same level of excitement, her body movements still as always. For someone who had just completed the end result of thirty years of work, she had a¡­ sombre disposition.


    ¡°Does that require my services?¡± The question was asked, although she knew the answer already. She was smart enough to know that her part in this task was done.


    ¡°Not really, your part is done. You have done us a great service Dr Xavius. I speak for everyone when I say that we are in your debt, whatever reward you want is yours.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    The word was full of disappointment. Dr Xavius didn¡¯t care about a reward, she didn¡¯t care about the good she¡¯d done here, or even the scenes of joyful Uplifts hugging and embracing their long-lost friends and family. That wasn¡¯t why she was here. She was here because the last thirty years had been the most enjoyable of her life.


    The Terrans had created her a perfect puzzle, the perfect problem that demanded a solution. Nothing else had captured her attention for so long, an impossible task to create an impossible cure. It was everything Dr Xavius was designed to do, a purpose that had been rejected by her own stupid short-sighted people. Left with genius and nowhere to apply it, the Hagthorian had found peace in the process of curing such a stubborn and difficult affliction.


    ¡°Do not sound so sad Dr Xavius. Look at Amander and Spot, look how happy they are, you did this. The city is filled with such reunions, you are the bringer of hope and joy to billions.¡±


    DRAKE didn¡¯t know how they felt about the Hagthorian. She was obviously a genius, whose insights and way of thinking had helped the Terran AI break through the final problems required to cure the god plague, pushing its development forwards hundreds of years.


    On the other hand, the scientist creeped the AI out, especially her complete disregard for the wellbeing of her test subjects. Many times they had had to deny the request for actual human subjects to study, nobody being willing to bring any humans out of the stasis and submit them to an inevitable death in the search of faster progress.


    As Xavius watched through the window at the two friends sobbing tears of joy, she felt¡­ nothing. She couldn¡¯t care less about how they felt, or the emotional impact she had inflicted upon them by bringing the humans out of stasis. She could understand why they cared, but lacked the capacity to feel those feelings for others herself. Creating a counter to the God Plague had been the task in of itself, the only thing that mattered, a problem to be solved, a purpose given to her. The fact that this ended with curing people and saving their lives was a secondary side effect of that goal.


    It was an irony that out of the pair, the heartless one wasn¡¯t the digital creation.


    ¡°Their reactions are secondary to the creation of the solution to the problem. I am here not for sentimental reasons or the reward, I was always here for the challenge. You know this DRAKE.¡±


    Dr Xavius could feel a sense of melancholy wash over her, looking at the act now completed, knowing the enjoyment she¡¯d felt would be difficult to replicate. No matter how annoying the Terran¡¯s demand for ¡°ethics¡± or ¡°empathy¡±, they had provided her with a most amazing puzzle to solve. Which is why when DRAKE said their next sentence, Dr Xavius really did consider the offer.


    ¡°Humans are anything but problemless creatures. If it is puzzles you want to solve, you should stick around. I guarantee there will be something interesting for you to do.¡±

 Innovation is Impartial - Chapter 2

    Date: 77 PST


    ¡°I''ve come to tell you, I¡¯ve got an opportunity I can¡¯t say no to. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m leaving¡±


    The words were said with a sadness, a measure of guilt and apprehension, the universal displeasure of telling someone bad news. Of course, bad news is a relative thing. For Dr. Johnathan Fletcher, this was overall good news. Good news for Terrans, good news for his career, good news for the war effort in general. But news denotes change, and in all change there are people who will win, and people who will lose.


    Sadly, in this circumstance, Lena was one of the ones who would be losing from such a change.


    ¡°Sad surprise: Why? Are you not enjoying your time on the ship any more, friend Johnathan?¡±


    The Scythen turned a shade of dark grey, the displeasure of this sudden news obvious to anyone who¡¯d spent a lot of time around the alien. Lena, like all of her species, sat upon a floating metal disk, their entire body made up of a 3ft wide mass of colour changing tentacles.


    Their name wasn¡¯t actually Lena, the Scythen¡¯s name was a specific series of colour changing wobbles communicated through the natural bioluminescence of their body, but most people couldn¡¯t understand or ¡®say¡¯ that, so they had chosen Lena. The ¡®voice¡¯ they spoke with also wasn¡¯t theirs, the floating metallic ring provided them not only with a faster form of locomotion than their ¡®natural¡¯ flopping around, but also allowed for them to communicate with the vast majority of the universe who couldn¡¯t change colour at will.


    The pair of them stood, or at least what represented standing for both species, in Lena¡¯s quarters upon the research vessel, the Terran having previously told the Scythen that they needed to talk about something. That was a phrase that never ended with good tidings.


    ¡°No no no, it¡¯s nothing like that Lena. I¡¯ve enjoyed my time both on the research vessel and with you as my friend! I¡¯ve learnt so much here!¡±


    Teaching the Terran had been the entire point of the research vessel they were on. The simple secret that most of the universe didn¡¯t know about the Scythens, was that they didn¡¯t need research vessels or collaborations with other species. They had far surpassed the technological level they outwardly claimed to the rest of the universe, and instead took the various scientific vessels around the galaxy on holidays disguised as ¡®proper research¡¯ that a species at their supposed level of development would naturally be doing.


    It was also a great way to share technology with allies without dumping reality changing devices onto their laps. It was a very important step for each species to ¡®discover¡¯ how to do things themselves, so they¡¯d also learn about the mistakes and how not to do things. Allowing non-Scythens on board to ¡®help¡¯ was a perfect way to slowly advance these people¡¯s scientific knowledge.


    That had been Lena¡¯s job when they had been assigned to look after the strange Terran. To take this academic who was at the top of his field and ensure they were fed enough information to push forward Terran knowledge at a relatively decent rate. Johnathan had made no less than 14 major breakthroughs during his time on the Scythen research vessel, advances in industry, energy generation and weaponry.


    Lena had pretended to be annoyed at each reckless and dangerous advance into the unknown, but in reality they had been planned, the Scythen leaving behind enough clues and breadcrumbs to ¡®inspire¡¯ the intrepid scientist into their next discovery.  The ship was never in any danger, as each possible antimatter explosive or room filled with acid had been planned and accounted for, just in case it went wrong.


    Well, apart from the time Dr Johnathan Fletcher had set fire to the kitchen trying to make a cheese toasty. That hadn¡¯t been planned, and legitimately annoyed Lena and the mess it had caused.


    It was nothing special, thousands of such pairing had been assigned through ¡®research vessels¡¯ and ¡®universities¡¯, the Scythens pushing forwards the technological power of any species they considered friendly without making it too obvious just how far ahead they actually were. There was one small catch however, a tiny issue in an otherwise perfect plan: Lena hadn¡¯t expected to bond so heavily with the Terran.


    ¡°Distressed statement: Then why is friend Johnathan leaving?¡±


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    Lena liked Dr Fletcher, not romantically as the man was married with three kids, but as a person the Terran had driven himself into the Scythen¡¯s soul. He was a funny, enthusiastic and intelligent man who even with the Terran¡¯s signature brand of chaos, made practically every single activity more fun just with his presence. Lena had only known him for 7 years, a miniscule amount of time within their lifespan, but the Scythen now considered Johnathan a close friend.


    Which is why the information that he was leaving shocked and saddened them even more.


    ¡°It¡¯s not you, this isn¡¯t an easy choice. I¡¯ve been offered a place in a research group: Near infinite funding, complete control over what I¡¯m working on, and I¡¯d be helping in the war effort. I couldn¡¯t say no to that¡­¡±


    Yes, the war effort. The Terran Alliance had officially declared war on the Estorian Empire 5 years ago, after they had attacked a peaceful scientific research station and killed those inside. While the Scythens had remained out of the fighting due to their stated religious commitment to pacifism, the rest of the hundreds of Allied species had spent that time fighting against the four slaving empires that made up the enemy¡¯s forces. Mostly to early success, although the general progress had slowed down after the four different Estorian species had put aside their differences long enough to present a reasonable fighting force.


    It made sense that Dr Fletcher would want to help, if anything it was a surprise that he hadn¡¯t been poached by the Terran military sooner. For all his chaos and friendly demeanour, Jonathan was an exceptionally talented academic with a slew of discoveries under his name, even before the Scythen¡¯s influence. It was a perfectly logical decision to leave, to jump at the opportunity to destroy those hurting so many in the universe, and accelerate their career in the process. It would be selfish to ask the Terran to stay.


    Yet Lena couldn¡¯t stop the inky blackness of despair running through every tentacle that made up her body.


    ¡°Supportive statement: Working on such a project will be good for you. Question: When is friend Johnathan leaving?¡±


    Dr Fletcher looked down at the ground, the Terran¡¯s own displeasure obvious in his solemn movements, all the way from his sensible brown leather shoes, to the top of his brown inoffensive tweed jacket. If wearing glasses was still a medical requirement he would have nervously fidgeting with them, but instead the scientist just wrung his hands together.


    ¡°The next time we stop for leave, I''m not coming back. You''re the first person I''ve told.¡±


    ¡°Accepting statement: So this is goodbye?¡±


    Jonathan gave a sigh. Even though Lena¡¯s voice was inorganic, the sadness could be heard within those words.


    ¡°Well I¡¯m still here for the next month, and it¡¯s not like I¡¯m dying. We¡¯ll still keep in touch, chat with each other, and meetup when we can. It¡¯s not forever, just for a little bit.¡±


    Lena knew that was a lie. It wasn¡¯t a purposeful lie, the Scythen knew Johnathan was probably being fully sincere when said those words. But that wasn¡¯t how life works. They¡¯d both get busy, fall into their own paths and their own lives while gradually drifting apart due to the simple impacts of time and distance on two people¡¯s relationship.


    The Scythen didn¡¯t want that to happen, they liked the Terran far too much for that to happen, so drastic measures had to be taken.


    ¡°Decision: If you would have me, I will come with you, friend Johnathan. I will help.¡±


    The uneasy aura of explaining bad news disappeared from Dr Fletcher¡¯s body, to be replaced with surprise at the offer for Lena to join him. The Terran government would obviously accept the Scythen if they offered their expertise: The Terrans and the Terran Alliance as a whole had been trying for a while to get the pacifistic Scythens more involved in the war effort. It was no secret that the strange species were the most technologically advanced amongst the hundreds of members, and garnering any insight from a top academic of their species would be an interesting opportunity.


    It came with just one problem.


    ¡°I, well, yes! If you¡¯re willing to help, and I¡¯m sure they¡¯d accept someone as brilliant as you are Lena. I didn¡¯t think you would, because it''s, well, the military. I assume they¡¯re building and creating weapons there.¡±


    The Scythens were well known to be religiously pacifistic, never wielding a weapon of any kind, no matter the situation. Of course, the religion was a sham, a useful lie to hide the shame of why no Scythen could risk killing another person. There were ways around it, ways to make sure the solution to their hidden problems wouldn¡¯t be undone.


    ¡°Clarification: I cannot hold a weapon, but I¡¯m sure I can be of use regardless. Someone has to stop you from setting fire to the kitchen.¡±


    ¡°Come on, I only did that once!¡±


    ¡°Mocking statement: Yes, once is still dangerous. I must provide you with the proper information on how ¡®fire is a potential harm to life.¡±


    The sombre attitude of the room had dissipated with the news of Lena following Johnathan  towards his position: Dr Fletcher being glad he wouldn¡¯t have to leave his strange new friend behind, and the inky black of despair on Lena¡¯s body had been replaced with the Scythen¡¯s more normal fluorescent alternating colours. As the pair bickered and teased each other over previous Terran misfortunes, plans for this new adventure coming together, neither of them knew the consequences of this upcoming research position.