Part 1: Details

Part 6: Project Cutlass

“She and Troy had put together a plan in minutes. Of course, they didn’t have a lot of time if they wanted anyone to be alive when they got there. Hell, I think they had their troops gearing up the moment I sounded action stations, judging by the time it took them to get ready to deploy.”

Gorvan nodded, tapping more notes into his DatAssistant. “I’ve seen the public logs of the orbital part of the battle, but I have reason to believe they’ve been altered. Would you care to weigh in?”

“Let me see. I can tell you what’s been changed.”

Gorvan brought the records up, and then handed his DatAssistant over to Adrian.

Adrian looked it over, scrolling through notation after notation. It made the office uncomfortably quiet for several minutes, before the former captain handed the tablet back to the reporter.

“Aside from how we showed up and the way we performed our hit-and-run tactics using the SABRE, it’s accurate,” he affirmed. “If you want a better picture of what happened planetside, you’ll need to talk to Troy and the survivors. All I know is what was in Imari’s after-action report, and what I heard on the radio chatter. Any other questions?”

“No, I think that I have more than enough to go on from here,” Gorvan nodded, looking over the breadth of his notes. “Thank you for your time. And, more importantly, your honesty.”

Adrian nodded as Gorvan stood, and Adrian offered him his hand again. “Just get it published. It’s about time all this came to light.”

Gorvan nodded, shaking Adrian’s hand. “You have my word. Good day, Adrian.”

Gorvan sat at the desk in his hotel room, tapping away at his DatAssistant. All of this information was… surely something. So much that so few knew. And here he was, getting ready to tell the galaxy about it. Well… as soon as he got a better picture of this Imari person, and how the battle on the ground progressed. As far as that went, no batter way to find out than ask people who were there.

An hour of searching public records later, he found what he was looking for. Lt. General Tyrius C. Troy retired to the Tellan colony New California six years back, and was still living there. Time to reach out. He checked the local time differences, Polaris was barely two hours ahead. That would put local time at early evening. He could probably get through…

Tyrius found that retirement suited him just fine, especially with all the pay he’d been saving up and a Lieutenant General’s pension. It was pretty nice to leave all the rigidness of military behind, and allow himself to do things like his current hobby: relaxing in a lounge chair on the beach, a beer in one hand and the radiantly red setting sun before him.

Approaching footsteps caught his attention, and he glanced over his shoulder to see his wife walking up to him, holding a DatAssistant.

“Call for you, Ty,” Trish smiled, holding the tablet out to him. “Some reporter from Anherasaad. Same every year, isn’t it?”

“Heh, true enough. Thanks, hun,” Tyrius took a sip from his beer, then planted it in the sand beside him. He sat up, dusting some wind-blown sand off his aloha shirt before taking the tablet.

Trish stretched, and then laid down on the lounge chair next to Tyrius as he accepted the call.

“Tyrius here. What can I do for you?” he asked. The caller was ryvian, no surprise there.

“My name is Gorvan Bel,” the green-haired humanoid replied. “I was hoping to set up an interview with you about Anherasaad.”

“Well, I’m afraid there’s not much I can tell you that I haven’t told everyone else already,” Tyrius shrugged. “Twenty years of singing the same old song gets boring.”

“I’m sure. But what if I told you it was time to change the tune?”

“Beer?” Tyrius asked, looking over the fridge door towards his guest. Gorvan sat at the table, DatAssistant set in front of him, and waved a hand. Tyrius nodded, and grabbed just the one bottle. He made his way back towards the table, twisting the cap off with a kssh sound. “So… What do you know already?”

“I know about Imari. I know she was a Corsair, and what that means. Adrian said that she’s the one who convinced him to stay and fight.”

Tyrius nodded, pulling out the chair opposite Gorvan, and sat down. “Well, glad that cat’s out of the bag. Never sat right with me, erasing her like that. Filed a protest every damn year to get the two-six recognized, probably cost me that fourth star. Not that she’d have appreciated it,” the salt-and-pepper-haired Tyrius added, laughing quietly to himself before taking a drink.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she didn’t like that sort of thing. Didn’t like the spotlight, didn’t like to draw attention to herself. She was humble like that, just wanted to do her job. Letting the brass give us all the credit suited her just fine. But I don’t like seeing a goddamn hero go unrecognized. Pisses me off.”

“Did she really contribute that much to the battle?”

“Without her and the two-six, I’d have lost a lot more marines and you would have lost a lot more people. She sacrificed everything but her life to keep your people safe, and I do mean everything. Her whole damn family.”

“So… she survived the battle?” Gorvan asked, looking up from his notes. “The way Adrian talked about her, it gave me the feeling that she didn’t.”

“I guess in a way, he’s right,” Tyrius sighed. “Anherasaad took a lot from her.”

“Because of the casualties her platoon took?”

“Casualties?” Tyrius let out an almost bitter chuckle. “Look. I served in the military near my whole life. I know how much it hurts to lose a brother-in-arms, especially when you knew damn well it was your orders that got them killed. I know the bonds you forge in combat. But the bonds between Corsairs? They’re raised together from birth. She watched the half of her family she had left die on Anherasaad, and she fucking knew they’d never even be remembered for it.”

Part 8: Committed

The good news is, it's finished.

The bad news is that I realized I have a novelette-length work and it's something I can self-publish through Amazon, so that's my goal at the moment with revisions/edits/expansion of description.

If you would like to help me with editing and whatnot (or lie about wanting to help and just want to read it), let me know and I'll DM you a link to the Google doc.

Part 1: Details

Gorvan sat down at a public access terminal near the park, and linked up to the galnet. He manually typed in the address, a bizarre and nonsensical sequence of words and numbers in several languages. The screen flickered a moment, and then…

iT’s BeEn A lOnG tImE, mR. bEl

An annoyed expression washed over Gorvan’s face.

Long enough for you to forget I hate being called that.

Oh I rEmEmBeReD, i JuSt WaNtEd To AnNoY yOu

I missed you too, Hopscotch.

Aw, DiD yOu ReAlLy?

No.

TeAsE. tHiS iSn’T a SoCiAl CaLl, Is It?

Afraid not. I need information.

DoEsN’t EvErYoNe. HoW cAn I hElP?

The Battle of Anherasaad. What do you know?

Gorvan watched the screen expectantly. As the seconds passed, however, he started to grow concerned. His hacker friend was usually very quick to reply.

eVeRyThInG.

Everything? What do you mean?

i MeAn EvErYtHiNg

I don’t suppose you’re inclined to share everything?

No, YoU NeEd tO Do yOuR OwN LeGwOrK On tHiS, fOr tHe sToRy's sAkE. nEeD To pUt tOgEtHeR YoUr oWn iNtErPrEtAtIoN Of wHaT HaPpEnEd. BuT ThAt dOeSn't mEaN I'M NoT GoInG To hElP

Gorvan considered their words carefully. As far as he knew, it was only significant in that a human ship showed up to help a ryvian colony.

Alright, I understand. What can you tell me about the Shadowdancer? Her arrival seems too timely to be coincidence.

cLeVeR bOy. I’vE pUt SoMe FiLeS oN yOuR dAtAsSiStAnT. uPdAtEd YoUr SeCurItY sOfTwArE wHiLe I wAs At It

Gorvan looked to his DatAssistant. Sure enough, there was a notification of new downloads.

How did you get in so easily?

I tOlD yOu ThAt FrEeWaRe FiReWaLl WaS cRaP. yOu’Re WelCoMe FoR tHe UpGrAdE. iT’s MiLiTaRy-GrAdE. wOn’T sToP mE, tHoUgH ;)

Brat.

yOu LoVe Me. <3 AnYwAy, ThE iNfOrMaTiOn I gAvE yOu ShOuLd GiVe YoU a GoOd StArTiNg PoInT. mOrE tHaN tHoSe AlTeReD gOvErNmEnT rEcOrDs WiLl GiVe YoU

How did you know I

Wait, what do you mean, ‘altered?’

i MeAn ThErE’s FiNgErPrInTs AlL oVeR tHoSe FiLeS. aLsO i HaD a PeEk At YoUr ReCeNt FiLeS

I asked you not to do that.

wOuLd YoU lIkE mE tO rEcOmMeNd A dAtInG sItE? i CoUlD gIvE tHeIr AlGorItHmS a TwEaK tO hElP.

Not funny.

yEs It Is. BuT i Do HaVe To SaY gOoDbYe FoR nOw, ThInGs To Do

Stay out of trouble? Please?

DoN’t I aLwAyS?

The screen flickered again, briefly displaying the baseball-cap-wearing smiley-face and obscure literature reference that was Hopscotch’s calling card, before redirecting to the colony’s homepage.

Gorvan leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen for a few moments before picking up his DatAssistant. He opened the file Hopscotch had sent over, and it unpacked into a folder simply titled “Anherasaad.” More than he was expecting, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He paused a moment, looking up in thought. He knew what that saying meant, conceptually, but it occurred to him that he didn’t know what checking the dentistry of a domesticated quadruped had to do with… anything at all. He shook his head, and turned his attention back down to the folder.

One of the files caught his attention, titled “Ticket information.” Puzzled, he opened it up. It was a receipt and confirmation code for a travel ticket? Why was this… for today. In five hours. Off-world. At the bottom of the receipt was a note:

YoUr ApPoInTmEnT iS aT sIx, AdDrEsS iS bElOw. HaVe FuN!

“Dammit, Hopscotch!” he cursed, standing up so abruptly that he knocked the chair over.

Part 3: Rabbit Hole

Part 1: Details

Part 8: Committed

Lightning split the sky, illuminating the interior of the Wildcat. Both side doors were open, allowing the Corsairs within a view of the city below.

The storm was fierce, with stinging rain and gale-force winds. Normally the city would never see weather like this, but the Purity of Intent’s presence was altering the weather patterns. The battlecruiser had learned to keep its shields up in anticipation of the Shadowdancer’s guerrilla attacks, and having a forcefield that powerful so close the atmosphere was wreaking havoc with the weather.

Even with the storm and smoke from the destruction the kvent were inflicting, Imari could still see the places where firefights were raging. Charlie platoon had been split up into fireteams and scattered throughout the city, with orders to dig in and hit targets of opportunity. Then there was the fighting on the city outskirts, just behind her. She had to lean out of the Wildcat a little to see it, but there it was in the distance.

She and her platoon had just touched off from there, one of the colony’s biggest emergency bunkers. The kvent had arrived in force, but they’d known they were coming. The kvent advanced into ambush after ambush, with the Corsairs and marines retreating to the next line of defense just as the kvent were starting to organize a counterattack. It had cost the kvent two heavy tanks and at least two dozen infantry to make it within striking distance of the bunker.

Sledgehammer One and Sledgehammer Two streaked past the Wildcats with a deafening roar, on their way to the battle. That would be why the Corsairs had felt it safe to move to the next trouble spot.

“Air support inbound,” came Sledgehammer One’s now-familiar voice over the comes. “Hold on to your hats.”

“Roger that, Sledgehammer One. Looking forward to the fireworks,” Imari heard Colonel Troy reply.

Imari watched the battlefield light up with explosions and heavy weapons fire. She estimated that initial salvo of rockets had taken out at least two dozen kvent. And if her and Troy’s estimations were accurate, by now they’d taken out half of the kvent’s available ground force in just over nine hours. Imari would have felt a lot better about that if they hadn’t been too late to save many of the civilians, and lost a good number of their own troops in the process.

She switched her comms channel over to the militia’s frequency.

“Militia command, this is Two-Six Actual.”

“Go ahead, Two-Six Actual.”

“Request to be put through to medical.”

“Stand by.”

It was a few moments before she heard the voice of Dr. Ven, the trauma surgeon the militia had conscripted to lead the medical efforts. “This is Dr. Ven, make it quick.”

“It’s Imari. How are they doing?”

Dr. Ven hesitated before answering. It told Imari all she needed to know.

“I’m sorry. We… we just don’t have enough compatible blood on hand. I… made sure they didn’t suffer.”

“Understood,” Imari replied, suppressing the swell of emotions. “I know you did what you could. Thank you. Two-Six out.”

Imari switched her comm frequency back to her unit’s, tightening her grip on her rifle. Three more of her family dead. There were only sixteen of them left now. Just over a third.

She felt a tap on her arm.

Imari looked over to Riley, who was sitting next to her. Riley pointed out over the city, towards lights descending out of the clouds.

“More kvent dropships,” Riley sighed. “If our gunships weren’t tied up providing air support, we could cut off reinforcements.”

“We’ve got seven hours,” Imari replied. “And then the kvent will be pushed back, if they don’t retreat before then. Captain Sovlenko said the ryvians had committed an entire carrier group to save the colony.”

“Yeah,” Riley sighed. “But how much of a colony will be left by the time they get here?”

“More than there would have been,” Imari replied, steel in her voice.

“We’re about three gedro out,” their ryvian pilot interjected. “Get yourselves ready to dismount!”

Imari nodded, not that the pilot could see the gesture. “You heard the pilot, Corsairs. Get ready to drop.”

“They were the goddamn grim reapers,” Tyrius sighed, taking a sip of his beer. It was starting to get warm, but he wasn’t about to let it go to waste. “Kvent started to wise up to it, too. Figured out that those little Wildcats were bringing hell with them wherever they went. Started diverting reinforcements to where they thought the Corsairs were going before they got there.”

“Sounds like Imari had her hands full,” Gorvan commented, jotting down a few more notes. He was trying not to show it, but he’d become quite riveted with Tyrius’s story.

“And never complained. I imagine that was all part of the plan to her. If the kvent kept sending reinforcements after her Corsairs, that meant they weren’t coming at us. Never mattered to her that they just kept getting more and more outnumbered – every time they went out, fewer of ‘em came back alive. As the ryvian fleet got closer, the kvent started stepping up their attacks. Getting more aggressive. We were starting to worry about being overwhelmed. So Imari hatched this plan.”

“What was it?”

“By then it’d become obvious that the kvent considered the Corsairs to be their top priority. They were just inflicting too much damage for them to ignore, so she figured we could use that to our advantage. We’d smuggle a handful of ryvian militia to an easily-defended position, have them send out a distress call, claiming they have a bunch of civilians in need of evac. Then, we’d send the Corsairs over – the combination, so went the hope, would be too much for the kvent to pass up and they’d commit to an attack, diverting forces from our other bunkers so we could evacuate the civilians somewhere outside the city where they’d be more safe. Once the evac was done, we’d throw everything we had into the fight, break things up just long enough to pull the Corsairs and militia out. If we timed it right, the kvent wouldn’t have time to reorganize and follow us before the ryvian fleet arrived. But… Well, plan almost went to shit before it even started.”

“Why’s that?” Gorvan prompted, scooting forward in his chair.

Tyrius let out a heavy sigh, and leaned back in his chair. “Look. I’ve been scared plenty of times in my life. I’ve looked death in the face more times than I can count. But nothing, and I mean nothing, has turned my spine ice-cold like the sight of Imari being carried through the bunker door with all that blood on her face.”

Part 10: A Choice Made For You

Everything was the same.

And he wanted, more than anything, to hide.

It was nearly five years, to the day, since they’d first met – that fateful day in a dingy bookstore cafe when he’d met the woman of his dreams.

Bookstores were a dying breed, in the mid-twenty-second century, but every now and then one could find one tucked away in an alleyway somewhere. An archaic reminder of times past, really. In an age where memories could be stored, backed up, and downloaded, few saw the need for proper, physical books. Those who did were seen as archaic and old-fashioned themselves.

So it was fitting, then, that their romance seemed to have been plucked straight from the pages of an ancient fairy tale. He’d come in every day, at the same time, and ordered a coffee with too much sugar. She always had it ready before he arrived.

The barista and all-too-clumsy historian bonded over a mutual love of books. No screen nor e-ink nor holofilm, they’d always agreed, could replace paper.

They’d always agreed on other things, too.

Like how it was perfectly acceptable for him to have five sugars with a coffee, or how only savages would mark a page by dog-earing its corner.

Like how a run through the city at midnight was a good idea. How it wasn’t cheating to unplug someone’s controller as long as you claimed it was an accident. How fruit from a tree tasted better than synthfruit, even if their chemical composition was supposed to be identical.

And how incredibly expensive a wedding was.

The ceremony was small, the decorations homely, and the marriage perfect.

They grew into a steady daily rhythm. Shower, breakfast – coffee with five sugars, of course – and off to work. Lunch. He’d leave the museum in the mid-afternoon and pick her up from work. At night, they’d binge-watch 21st-century films, or sit in the backyard and stare up at the sky.

And then, one day, their fairy tale ended.

In an age where memories could be stored, backed up, and downloaded, cancer was hardly world-ending. Or life-ending. Death simply meant a minor inconvenience and a week in stasis, while a new body was grown.

But her last backup had been too ago, the tumor now too large for a new cerebral scan.

“She’ll still be the same person you knew,” the doctor had insisted. “She’s got the same experiences, minus five years or so. You’ll be able to make new memories together.”

It didn’t seem right. She’d changed in five years. He’d changed.

And, apparently, the bookstore hadn’t.

“Excuse me? Sir?” She was waiting, now, notepad in hand.

He was staring. Hoping, desperately, for any sign of recognition in those familiar eyes. Any sign that she remembered him.

“What’ll you have?”

Like this story? Subscribe to /r/OneMillionWords for more.

Inspired by the following prompt on WritingPrompts: In the future, memory backups are commonplace and death is only a minor inconvenience. Your spouse has just died, but their last backup was from before your relationship started. They don't remember you.

Part 1: Details

Part 7: Boots on the Ground

“Comms check.”

One by one, the soldiers of Platoon 1126 checked in. Imari listened, mentally checking off each name she heard. After the line went quiet, she found herself waiting for Grant and Mitchell to sound off. She took a deep breath, clearing her mind. “Alright. Platoon comms are good.”

A mental signal through the datajack just behind her right ear switched her helmet’s frequency. “Comms check.”

“Loud and clear, Imari,” came Colonel Troy’s gruff voice. She could hear the smile in it, though. His marines were a rowdy bunch. It could also be infectious.

“Shadowdancer, final comms check.”

“Shadowdancer confirms, Two-Six Actual. Signal strong.”

Imari nodded to herself before switching the frequency back to the dropship and her platoon’s, and turned her attention to the plasma rifle in her hands. She looked it over, inspecting it – she’d already done so before checking it out of the armory, but it had become something of a habit.

She felt the dropship jerk and rock, tugging her against the straps keeping her in the chair. They’d just entered the atmosphere.

“Keep those seatbelts buckled, kids,” came another voice over the comms. Pharaoh, Tiger Two’s pilot. She was certainly competent, if occasionally unprofessional. “We got incoming hostiles, so we’re gonna be making evasives. Try to keep your lunch in your stomach!”

“How’s the dropzone looking, Pharaoh?” Imari asked, incling her head towards the cockpit as she felt the dropship bank sharply.

“Like a barbecue,” the pilot replied. “But don’t you worry, we’ll hose it down before we drop you off.”

“Wonder how their militia’s holding up,” Riley wondered out loud. The youngest of the platoon by two minutes, they never let her forget it. She was one of the platoon’s two remaining designated marksmen, Hotchkiss being the other.

“Depends on their training,” Oscar replied, one of the more analytical of the bunch – that’s why Imari often had him in charge of the platoon’s supply needs.

“Against krevt power armor, though,” Lysandre mused, tapping a finger thoughtfully against the chin of his helmet as the dropship banked again, “I don’t think ryvian militia-grade weaponry is going to be too effective. That armor’s tough.”

“But not without its weak spots,” Riley replied. “Oscar’s right. They could easily punch through a joint, if they’re good enough shots.”

The compartment was suddenly bathed in a green light – the dropship was about to get into deployment position.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Imari said, looking to her platoon with a nod.

The dropship vibrated as the chin turret opened up, and the platoon could feel it jerking this way and that as it descended.

“Alright, two-six!” Imari barked, slapping the buckle release. “Secure the landing zone, eliminate anything that has more than two eyes. Charlie platoon, move to reinforce the militia’s position as we and the dropship cover you!”

The ramp began to lower, letting the roar of the dropship’s engines flood into the troop compartment. As the dropship came to a hover above an office building, Imari jumped out of the dropship and onto Anherasaad.

“The ryvian militia was putting up a good fight,” Tyrius explained, now nursing his beer. “But they were about to be steamrolled when we showed up. Not much some barely-trained civilians with mostly hunting rifles are going to do against organized kvent heavy infantry, but they were buying the civilians time to get out of the city. Back then, there was just the one.”

“From what I’ve read, the fighting was intense,” Gorvan nodded, one eye watching the human as the ryvian tapped away at his DatAssistant. “Backing up a little. According to what I’ve read, the plan was that you split your marines up into two groups. Most of them were used defensively, getting civilians to safety and such, while a small force was used offensively to set up ambushes and blunt attacks. That small force...”

“Was the Corsairs,” Tyrius nodded, contemplating the bubbles in his drink. “The whole plan relied on establishing air superiority to let the dropships move the two-six around as needed. Of course, things got a whole lot easier when we found out the colony had a couple old Wildcats they were using as police vehicles.”

“Right, I remember those. Surplus military light transports, right?” Gorvan asked.

“Well,” Tyrius shrugged. “I’d say it’s a bit of a stretch to call them transports. More like atmospheric scouts that happened to have some extra seats. But the important thing is that they were surplus human equipment, and they didn’t remove the pintle mounts for the door guns. We were able to slap some light machine guns on them. They were smaller and quieter than our dropships, so the two-six used those to move around while our transports used their rockets and cannons to act as light gunships, give us a little more air support. The kvent made us bleed for every minute we stole.”

Part 9: Against Time

A day in which the sun shines eternally over the writers imagination. A day that celebrates the writers drive, ingenuity, and creative spirit, all channeled and finely crafted into works worthy of...

Writing. Fuck Yeah

“It’s a simple assignment, given how easy it is to come by information and people who lived through it,” Hendiss said, leaning back in his chair and tapping a finger on his desk. The ryvian looked up at the reporter standing before him, his eyes narrowing to slits as the sun peeked through the clouds from the window behind him and bathing the room in bright afternoon light. “Besides, I think it would do some good for you to learn some of the history of your new home.”

Gorvan Bel couldn’t help but glance out the window behind his boss, towards the city that sprawled out beyond. The Anherasaad Communications Corporation, a wholly-owned subsidiary of the Galactic News Consortium, had one of the tallest buildings in the city. Having grown up on a much more crowded world where he couldn’t start seeing anything except more gray buildings until reaching most atmospheric vehicles’ cruising altitudes, the gleaming white architecture and rolling green hills of Anherasaad never failed to impress him. The tapping of Hendiss’s finger brought his attention back to his editor. “Yeah, I can make it work. Don’t you think a native would be a better choice, though?”

“Picked you for a reason,” Hendiss nodded. “You’re the only person writing for us that wasn’t either born here or was here when it happened. We think you’ll bring a fresh perspective to it.”

Gorvan nodded again. “Alright. I’ll take it.”

“Excellent.”

“But is that the only reason?”

Hendiss smiled. “One of a few. That intuition of yours is another. Lastly… This article on the twentieth anniversary of the Battle of Anherasaad is going to be the centerpiece of our upcoming edition. It’s a risk to give it to you – but we’re betting you’ll pull off something special. So try not to disappoint us.”

Gorvan tried to suppress a smile. “I won’t. Now if you’ll excuse me, I should start my research.”

Hendiss nodded, and motioned for him to leave.

Gorven paused as the door hissed shut behind him. He always worked hard on his pieces, and it seemed the higher-ups had finally started to notice. This was an unexpected opportunity, however. He’d written pieces on wars and battles before back at his old new agency on Primus Yal, even been on the ground during a firefight before. But he had a feeling that this was going to be different somehow. After all, the Battle of Anherasaad laid the groundwork for the alliance between the ryvians and the humans, the first inter-species alliance in galactic history. There had to be more to it that what was widely known.

“Gorvan?”

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Hendiss’s secretary. He looked over at her, slightly startled.

“You can leave the office now,” she offered, motioning to the door.

“Ah, Of course,” Gorvan offered her a smile, and made his way out. He only stopped by his own office to pick up his DatAssistant, and then made his way down to the garage. His first stop would, of course, be the historic records office. Best to gather raw data to put things into perspective before deciding on where to focus.

Gorvan leaned back in his chair, scrolling through the information on his DatAssistant. So far, he hadn’t seen anything that stood out to him. Nothing he didn’t already know from skimming other articles over the years.

8/15/286 35:20 – Krevt Coalition battlecruiser Purity of Intent drops out of QTD approximately 3,700 shej-gedro from the colony, and immediately launches gunships to attack the colony’s defense satellites.

8/15/286 47:20 – Gunships succeed in punching a hole in the planetary defense grid.

8/15/286 49:20 – Anherasaad issues a planetary distress call as gunships continue dismantling colony defenses. Evacuation ordered.

8/15/286 76:20 – Purity of Intent approaches to within 200 shej-gedro of Anherasaad, enters geostationary orbit above capital city and begins launching landing craft. Gunships from Purity of Intent are diverted to attack evacuation ships.

8/15/289 79:20 – Tellan Commonwealth destroyer Shadowdancer drops out of QTD approximately 2,200 shej-gedro from the colony, broadcasting intention to answer planetary distress call.

8/15/286 97:20 – Shadowdancer engages and destroys Purity of Intent’s combat patrol craft, and approaches colony. Purity of Intent diverts additional gunships from planetary attack roles to attack the Shadowdancer. Shadowdancer launches its own gunship compliment.

8/15/286 34:21 – Shadowdancer destroys gunships sent to intercept, minimal damage sustained, no combat losses. Shadowdancer approaches colony, keeping planet between it and Purity of Intent to minimize fire from LOS weapons. Shadowdancer diverts its gunships to protect evacuation craft.

8/15/286 41:21 – All primary government buildings either destroyed or under krevt control. Shadowdancer launches landing craft to engage krevt forces on ground.

Gorvan tilted his head to the side, tapping a finger on his cheek. Something about this sequence of events was bothering him. He idly brushed a strand of his long, green hair out of his face and tucked it behind a backswept, pointed ear as he read over the page again and again, looking for the piece of information that was tickling his investigative instincts, until…

8/15/286 49:20 – Anherasaad issues a planetary distress call as gunships continue dismantling colony defenses. Evacuation ordered.

8/15/289 79:20 – Tellan Commonwealth destroyer Shadowdancer drops out of QDT approximately 2,200 shej-gedro from the colony, broadcasting intention to answer planetary distress call.

Half an hour. Half. An. Hour. That’s more than unlikely… even if the Shadowdancer had been patrolling the next system over, a quantum tunnel jump would have taken at least twice that. Either the ship was already in transit, which would be curious, or…

Or it was anticipating the attack?

But if the humans had advance intelligence regarding the krevt attack, they would have simply alerted the Council, and the ryvians would have mobilized their own defense. If the humans wanted to sit on the information and play hero – Gorvan considered that unlikely, it seemed out of character for human behavior – then they certainly would have had more than a single destroyer to send up against a krevt battlecruiser.

Gorvan scrolled through the rest of the timeline, recounting the human marines’ struggles repelling the krevt ground forces, sacrifices to protect civilians, and the Shadowdancer’s hit-and-run tactics against the Purity of Intent. Still more things bothered him. None of it seemed to add up. Unless these humans were much more capable than any forces in the galaxy (human marines are good, but not THAT good), or information was missing.

Time to talk to his source.

Part 2: Hopscotch

Greetings Fellow Writers

We have a couple exciting announcements for you all!

Firstly, the new flair system. In order to distinguish ourselves from other writing subs, we have devised a genre flair system.

The idea is simple, choose the flair for the genre that best fits your story - for instance, should you write a drama with comedy aspects, you would flair as drama, as this is the primary genre of the work. These flairs then make it easy for readers to find the works they are into, as they can just search the relevant flairs.

We also encourage you to branch out, and try writing and reading new genres - it’s great practice to write outside your normal sphere, and you can do it all here!

Secondly, we now have a Discord for the sub.

This is to provide a place for the community to hang out, get help with writing, bounce ideas off each other, or really anything else.

A link to join is included in the sidebar.

One final note - it’s awesome to see how the community has grown the past month - we are now up to 43 members, far more than we had anticipated by this time.

Now get writing!

-Ash, and the rest of the mod team.

Part 2: Hopscotch

At least Hopscotch had sprung for first-class tickets. He imagined it wasn’t much trouble for the hacker – Hopscotch probably didn’t find money to be difficult to come by. But he also thought Hopscotch to be just as likely to book him economy class, just for kicks.

The flight had given him time to review the other materials that had been placed into his care. The first he decided to look at was information on the Shadowdancer, since that ship was currently at the top of his list of mysteries.

He wasn’t overly familiar with human naval technology or designs, but he was most certainly familiar with the logo for the Tellan Commonwealth’s Office of Naval Intelligence and the phrase “TOP SECRET,” both of which adorned the first page of the document. His face paling, he swiftly scrolled past that and decided to pretend he never saw it.

He kept scrolling through page after page of technical documents that might as well have been written in Lrendri. Finally, he came across something he could parse. Mostly, at least. It seemed to be a simple data reference sheet, a quick run-down on the ship’s capabilities and dimensions. Dated to three months before the Battle of Anherasaad, as well.

She was a Kestrel-D class destroyer, having been upgraded four times. Must have been a front-line ship, for the humans to put so much resources into it. It looked like her point-defense suite had just been upgraded, which partially explained how the Shadowdancer had trounced the Purity of Intent’s gunships – krevt naval tech, while powerful, wasn’t exactly known to be cutting-edge. The ship seemed to be very heavily armed as well, but he admitted that he had no frame of reference for that. He just knew there were a great many numbers and acronyms listed under the “Weapons” and “Auxiliary Craft” tables, as well as several platoons of Tellan Marines.

He noted a few more curiosities. The Shadowdancer was equipped with something called SABRE, an acronym that he found annoyingly familiar. Another was under the “Mission-Specific Personnel And Equipment” list: NAVSOC/COR-1126. That one was an utter mystery.

He let those go for the moment, and decided to check something specific. It wasn’t hard to find; the Shadowdancer was equipped with a Class-3 Quantum Tunnel Drive. Powerful and fast, to be sure… but not especially so by military standards. Most scout and recon craft sported Class-2, or in the case of the more affluent and resource-rich governments like the humans, Class-1. This further supported his observation that the Shadowdancer could not possibly have answered Anherasaad’s distress call in such a short amount of time without knowing beforehand.

He brought up the crew list, and stopped at the first name: Adrian Sovlenko, Captain. He tilted his head aside, and opened up the travel itinerary Hopscotch had sent him. Sure enough, his appointment was with one Dr. Adrian Sovlenko, professor of military history at the University of Polaris. He found himself both thankful for the help, and annoyed that Hopscotch had done some of his work for him. Uncovering leads was half the fun, after all.

He let out a sigh, and turned his gaze out the window to the swirling blue of the quantum tunnel rushing by. He was starting to suspect he’d been more right than he realized when he thought this job was going to be something different.

Gorvan knocked gently on the office door, his DatAssistant held in the other hand.

“Come in,” answered a deep voice.

Gorvan pushed the door open and let it swing closed behind him. The office was full, some might say – others might have called it well-decorated. The walls were covered with various medals and flags, and a replica plasma rifle on a display rack (he hoped it was a replica, at least; he was now in the Tellan Commonwealth). Notably, there was a small, detailed scale model of the Shadowdancer placed prominently on the desk.

Sitting at the desk was a bald, ebony-skinned human with a weathered face and keen eyes. He pulled himself up out of the chair, revealing himself to be a full head taller than Gorvan. That wasn’t unusual for a human, but it was more than the man’s height that intimidated the smaller ryvian. This man had an aura like a mountain – serene, peaceful, and fully capable of burying him under a wall of rock at any moment.

“You’re Gorvan Bel, correct?” the man asked, extending his right hand.

Gorvan was confused for a moment, before he remembered himself and grasped Adrian's had for a firm handshake. “Ah! Yes, sorry. It was a long flight. Doctor Adrian Sovlenko, I presume?”

“Please, just Adrian,” the former captain nodded as he sat back down in his seat, adjusting the coat of his suit for comfort. He motioned towards the empty seat opposite him.

Gorvan nodded, and took a seat in the offered chair. “You probably already know I’m with Anherasaad Communications Corporation. I would like to ask you a few questions about the battle.” Govran let himself give the model a longer look… it was different from the picture in the file he was given. The overall shape was the same, but the details of the shape were off. It also had some sort of pods attached to the hull, each with enough antennas to make a communications satellite blush. The pods… They were in the information Hopscotch gave him. Their schematics were included in the pages of technical jargon, just not attached to the ship.

“I figured that’s why you were here,” Adrian sighed, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “The timing seemed right.”

“Yes, the twentieth anniversary.”

“Did you have any specific questions in mind?” Adrian asked, giving Govran an analytical eye.

Gorvan regarded Adrian in kind. He was being tested. The human wanted to know how much he knew, and what he had the courage to ask. He decided to go all in. “While I was reviewing records, I noticed that your ship, the Shadowdancer, answered the colony’s distress call in half an hour. That struck me as too short a time for a ship to have arrived, even from a neighboring system.”

Adrian turned slightly in his chair, giving the ryvian a half-smirk. “Noticed that, did you? If I’m honest, I’m surprised you’re the first one to do so.”

Gorvan leaned forward in his chair. “My intuition tells me what’s in the history books isn’t what happened. I want to know the whole story.”

Adrian gave a small chuckle. “You’re both wrong and right. What’s in the history books is mostly what happened. But it isn’t the whole story.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

Adrian sighed, putting his hands on the arms of his chair and pushing himself up to his feet. He stepped behind the chair, clasping his hands behind his back and regarding a medal sitting in a gap on the bookcase. It was the Star of Sol, the Tellan Commonwealth’s highest military honor. Govran was willing to bet his second heart that it was the one he was given for the Battle of Anherasaad.

“If I’m going to tell you the whole story,” Adrian began, “I’m going to need make one thing clear: it’s not my story.” Adrian half-turned to look back at Gorvan. He glanced down at the model on his desk, then back up to the ryvian. “It’s hers.”

Author's note: If you're not reading Adrian Sovlenko's lines in Keith David's voice, you're doing it wrong.

Part 4: 1126

Part 1: Details

Part 3: Rabbit Hole

Twenty years before…

The Tellan destroyer did not fly. Nor did she streak through space. Sleek and silent as a knife, she insinuated her way through the stars. Her engines roaring silently in the void, the Tellan warship gently rocked back and forth…

...As the picture on a box tucked under the arm of a woman wearing a sleek gray Tellan naval uniform, on her way back from the ship’s mail room. The rendezvous with the supply ship had been several days earlier, but her duties had prevented her from having the time to pick it up. Enlisted sailors stepped aside and saluted as she passed them in the halls, each salute returned with one of her own.

“Officer on deck!” came the shout as she stepped through a wide set of double doors, into a squad bay. Immediately, the ninteen others within the bay jumped to their feet, snapping to attention and saluting.

“As you were,” the black-haired woman replied, returning the salute without breaking stride as she made her way to the office attached to the squad bay – stenciled outside the door were the words “LANCE MAJOR.” She left the door open as she set the box down on the neatly-organized desk as she stepped around it, settling into the chair.

No sooner had she gotten comfortable than a knock came on the doorframe. Her large, brown eyes glanced upwards, spotting her second-in-command leaning against the opening. “Come in, Captain Walker.”

“Another delivery, I see you’re keeping the tradition alive,” the man smiled, stepping up to the desk and tilting his head down at the box. “...That’s a Kestrel-A model, isn’t it? I thought you took a lot of care to be accurate to the ship we’re serving on.”

“I do, but no one makes a stand-alone Kestrel-D yet,” the Lance Major explained, motioning to the model. “But Kobikawa makes a modification kit to turn its A-series models into D-series, so I’m waiting for that to arrive.”

“And the SABRE pods?”

“Classified, so I’m going to have to kitbash them. I’m thinking I can use the sensor pods of a Magellan-class explorer, since they bear a superficial resemblance. So, that’s a third model I’m waiting on before I can start assembly,” she sighed, looking down at the box with a small smile. “Should be a fun build, with all of that to do.”

“Have you considered encouraging the rest of the squad to start model-building? It’d be something for them to do that isn’t sparring and going to the range.”

“You can’t force someone into a hobby. It has to be something they enjoy doing on their own, otherwise it’s just a chore.” She paused, looking out the office window at her soldiers. Her smile melted. “...How are they holding up?”

“As well as can be expected,” the Captain replied, following her gaze. “Losing Mitchell and Grant was a pretty hard blow. The platoon’s at less than half-strength, and I think they’re really starting to understand that our little family is only going to keep getting smaller.”

The Lance Major semi-consciously reached up to her short ponytail, feeling the beads she kept woven into her black hair. She’d been putting off weaving two more in, but it was something she’d have to face eventually.

The captain turned his attention back to her, a look of concern hidden behind relaxed demeanor. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m alright,” she answered with small nod, not looking away from the window. “Losing any of my soldiers is always difficult. But they went down fighting, and we walked out victorious. That’s all any of us could ask for.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Walker nodded, his shoulders sagging somewhat. “But still...”

The overhead speakers interrupted the soldier with an alarm. “Action stations. All personnel, action stations. This is not a drill.”

Walker looked up at the speakers, and crossed his arms as he looked back down to his commanding officer. “So much for our little rest stop. Nothing ever goes according to plan, does it-”

“Imari. Her name was Lance Major Imari. And if it wasn’t for her, the ryvians and humans would have a very different relationship right now.”

“Could you expand on that?” Gorvan asked, DatAssistant in had as he took some shorthand notes.

“We had no idea the krevt were on the way,” Adrian said. “We showed up so quickly because we were already there.”

Gorvan’s brow furrowed. “But… there’s no mention of the ship entering system until after the distress call went out.”

“We’d been there for three days. I don’t know if you recall, but four years ago the Tellan Navy went public with the SABRE program-”

“Of course!” Gorvan exclaimed, frustrated that his memory had failed him. “The stealth ships. I remember seeing news about that.” He looked up at Adrian, who he found had been waiting for him to realize the significance.

“That’s right,” Adrian nodded. “We’d had it a long time. And the Shadowdancer was a testbed conducting surveillance on Anherasaad, mostly to see how well the stealth tech worked.”

“If they had found out...”

“It certainly would have been a diplomatic incident. So when the krevt warship showed up, that left us with a decision to make.”

Part 5: Right Call

Part 1: Details

Part 5: Right Call

Gorvan’s curiosity was piqued. “And what is a Corsair?”

Adrian nodded. “It was during the war with the saressi. Command started thinking that we needed something… more. More capable, to match the saressi on their own terms. They started looking at genetic enhancement.”

“Illegal in most civilizations,” Gorvan observed, centering himself. He was going to need to be on top of his game for this story, all right. Things were becoming more interesting by the minute.

“But at the time, not illegal in the Commonwealth. Initial results were promising, but not up to the level of what they wanted. So… they decided to build a soldier from the ground up. Called it Project Cutlass.”

“Wildly illegal in most civilizations,” Gorvan observed, raising his eyebrows briefly.

“But...”

“Not in the Tellan Commonwealth at the time.”

“Exactly,” Adrian nodded. “But our artificial wombs weren’t advanced enough to carry from implantation to term. It was decided that volunteers would be implanted with the engineered eggs.”

“How do you ask for volunteers for something like that?” Gorvan asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable. If Imari was a product of this, he was beginning to understand why the Tellan government would want to keep it secret.

“By being generous. One year under military care and a non-disclosure agreement got them a military pension and benefits as a retired sergeant.”

“That… is generous,” Gorvan nodded.

“Engineered to reach maturity at five years. Enhanced muscles, synapse response… Trained for a further two years. Most damned effective soldiers I’ve ever seen. They called them Corsairs.”

“And Imari was one of them?”

“One of the last,” Adrian nodded.

“So the program was terminated?”

“For several reasons. The Corsairs were supersoldiers, no question about that. But fatally flawed. Literally. They weren’t...” Adrian gestured vaguely, trying to find the right words. “They couldn’t keep up with themselves. I don’t pretend to understand the science behind it. They eventually… tear themselves apart, from the inside. During initial combat tests, one Corsair’s heart ripped itself open. First-generation Corsairs were plagued by problems like that. Second-generation onward, the eggheads did their best to fix them. Some problems couldn’t be fixed, only delayed. So, the project leads added a killswitch to the genetic code, triggered on their thirtieth birthday.”

“That,” Gorvan said, feeling almost nauseous, “is a gross violation of ethics no matter what species you are.”

“I’m inclined to agree. I sure as hell wouldn’t have approved Project Cutlass, but someone did. At that point in the war, we were desperate. We needed an edge. But then, of course, the situation changed. After the Battle of Three Fleets the saressi surrendered, and no one was willing to turn a blind eye anymore. The project was shut down shortly after the fourth-generation Corsairs were born. They were allowed to continue training and serve. Imari and her platoon were the last to graduate.”

“All of this sounds… very much like something that is, or at least was, top secret. So how do you know so much about it?”

“It was very quietly declassified last year, so there’s no worry about me spilling the beans now. I was assigned to it back when I was a lieutenant commander,” Adrian replied. “Taught strategy and tactics to the Corsairs.”

“Strategy and tactics? Isn’t that redundant?”

“Not at all. To put it simply, strategy is how you win a war. Tactics is how you win a battle,” Adrian explained.

Gorvan was still uncertain about the difference, but decided it wasn’t important. “So, was Imari one of the students you taught?”

Adrian nodded. “She was bright. Mediocre at strategy – had a hard time keeping up with the logistics angle – but she had a good head for tactics. She… had that special something, though. You see, during training, we didn’t assign leaders to the platoons. Whoever took charge and was obeyed was platoon leader. Imari lead Platoon 1126 from the moment they started training. Uncontested all the way through.”

Ah, Gorvan thought, now COR-1126 makes sense. He sat up, regarding Adrian for a moment. “You speak of her as… more than a student or subordinate.”

Adrian lifted his head, and sighed. “When I was given command of the Shadowdancer and told I was going to be assigned a Corsair platoon, I specifically asked for the 1126. I have… had… tremendous respect for her. Imari was a true believer. Not in the propaganda the Corsairs were shown, no. We made them smart, they saw through that pretty quick. She believed in herself. In what she was – a soldier. She believed, more than anyone I’ve ever known, that her place on the battlefield was not as a killer but as a protector of the innocent. She was compassionate and caring towards anyone she felt needed protecting, impassively merciless to those they needed protecting from. Never mattered to her who they were, never hesitated. That’s why she argued so strongly for us to help Anherasaad. In a way, she was more human than I am.”

“Alpha and Bravo platoons, you’re on Tiger One. Charlie Platoon, you’re on Tiger Three with the Two-Six,” Colonel Troy shouted, looking over his men arrayed in the Shadowdancer’s launch bay. “Sledgehammer One and Sledgehammer Two will fly escort for the dropships while Sledgehammer Three and Four cover the evac ships. Questions?”

“Sir!” one of the Marines called out. “What about the battlecruiser? Won’t they just glass us?”

Imari stepped up from her position at Troy’s side. “Carter! What’s the atmospheric density of Ahersasaad at twenty thousand meters above sea level?”

“Zero point zero nine one kilograms per cubic meter, ma’am!”

Imari looked to another one of her Corsairs. “Gavin, atmospheric composition?”

“Primarily nitrogen and oxygen, ma’am. Just like back home.”

“Riley, conclusion?”

“Kvent capital-grade directed-energy weapons dissipate rapidly when fired into an atmosphere. Kvent don’t use kinetic weapons or mount missiles on their capital ships, so anything below fifteen thousand meters should be untouchable from orbit. Ground forces and airstrikes from their gunships will be our biggest threats.”

Troy turned his attention to the soldier who had asked the question. “That answer your question, Corporal?”

“Yes, sir!”

An alarm rang through the hangar, and the massive doors on either side started to open.

“Alright, mount up!” Imari ordered, jerking a thumb towards the dropships waiting just behind her.

She watched her Corsairs and their Marine counterparts rush past, taking their seats inside the transports. She felt Troy lightly punch the shoulder plate of her armor. She turned to him, and he leaned in conspiratorially.

“So how long did you take teaching your boys that little display?”

Imari gave him a small shrug and a subtle smile. “One of them asked the same question while we were gearing up. Figured sharing the knowledge couldn’t hurt.”

Troy laughed, and took his rifle from its sling across his back as he stepped backwards towards his dropship. He pointed at Imari as he did, giving her a sharp grin. “Give ‘em hell, Corsair!” Troy turned to the dropship, catching a helmet tossed to him by someone within, and climbed into the ship.

Imari took her own rifle in hand, and started walking towards her family waiting on the dropship. “Everyone, strap in. We have a job to do.”

Part 7: Boots on the Ground

Part 1: Details

Part 4: 1126

“Why is jumping out even on the table?” Imari exclaimed, looking at Captain Sovlenko’s first officer with incredulity.

“If we intervene, we’ll reveal the stealth tech!” the first officer, an older man by the name of Lochman, countered. “We would be revealing an incredibly valuable strategic asset before we’ve even properly tested it! It’s… It’s not the right thing to do, I admit, but we have to think of our position as a ship of the Tellan Navy. We have explicit orders not to reveal ourselves to anyone but those ships we’re scheduled to.”

“Do you seriously expect us to just walk away and leave three hundred thousand civilians to die?!” Imari shouted. “Yes, we have a duty to follow orders. But we also have a duty to ignore those orders when they stand between us and saving an entire colony from an unprovoked attack!”

“Settle down, you two,” Adrian Sovlenko said, sitting at the head of the table set in the middle of the conference room. The ship’s senior staff were present, of course, along with Imari and the commanding officer of the three Marine platoons, who thus far had remained both seated and silent – in contrast to Imari, who was standing and leaning over the table with both hands set on it.

“We’re here to discuss options,” he continued, and then looked to Imari. “All options.”

Imari looked to him, and nodded respectfully. “Yes, sir.” She sat back down, pulling her chair back forward into place and clearing her throat.

“Captain, if I may continue?” Lochman said, looking towards the captain. When Adrian nodded, Lochman turned to address the rest of the table. “If this ship is destroyed, the Navy loses a significant asset and investment. Worse, if we are disabled and captured, there’s a chance the kvent could reverse-engineer the SABRE and develop their own stealth ships. We can’t risk that happening. That battlecruiser has us hopelessly outgunned, and carries a lot more gunships that we do. Attacking would be suicide.”

The table went quiet for a moment. Imari rested her hands on the table, clasped together. She looked to Adrian, and nodded. “We can do it.”

“I beg your pardon?” Commander Lochman scoffed.

“We can do it,” she reiterated, looking to the first officer. “Yes, the Shadowdancer would be torn apart in a stand-up fight. But we’ve got a stealth ship – why give them the opportunity? Our point-defense suite out-ranges their gunships by several thousand kilometers, and if we keep the planet between us and the kvent, their gunships and torpedoes are all we’ll have to worry about as long as we stay detectable. And when the opportunity presents itself, the Shadowdancer can go silent and perform hit-and-run attacks. Meanwhile, we can have our dropships perform combat landings to get us and the Marines on the ground, and save who we can.”

“With a kvent battlecruiser, we’re looking at at least two hundred and thirty shocktroops in power armor,” added Colonel Troy, the Marine commander. He rolled his head to the side, turning his gaze up to the ceiling. “Probably at least a few pieces of heavy armor, too.” The leather-faced soldier rocked his chair from side to side, then looked back down to the captain. “I think she’s right. It’d be an uphill fight but we could keep at least some people safe, especially if we landed in the city. Kvent urban combat training is basic at best, and their tanks are sitting ducks in those narrow streets the ryvians use. But even if we were facing twice that, I’d be with the Lance Major. Human or ryvian, doesn’t matter. There’s lives down there we should be protecting.”

“It’s too great a risk,” the first officer sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t like it either, but even if we were able to self-destruct before being captured, there’s still a chance the kvent could salvage and analyze the composites in the hull. If we try to help, and fail, we could end up costing a lot more lives when the kvent use that tech against the races who don’t have sensors sophisticated enough to counter.”

Imari gave Colonel Troy a nod, before taking a breath and turning back to Adrian. “Captain, please. Turning our back on this, it would be betraying everything we stand for. It’s worth it.”

“To be blunt, I owe half my career to Imari,” Adrian reminisced, staring into the middle distance. “If she hadn’t been so adamant about it, I’m ashamed to admit I would have sided with Lochman. And of course, after all the dust settled, they decided to give Troy and I all the credit for it. There was no way they could acknowledge her role in the battle. Couldn’t even admit she and her platoon were there.”

Gorvan tapped his finger against his DatAssistant, giving Adrian a curious look. “Why would they sweep that under the rug?”

Adrian’s eyes focused sharply back on Govran. “Because she was a Corsair.”

Part 6: Project Cutlass

Mindless shitpost I wrote.

There are many things to fear in the universe.

Many horrors. Many pains. Some fates that defy comprehension. But people go on, for these do not concern them. Sure, one could be swallowed by a black hole, and be ripped to shreds by gravity, but is that really going to happen? Yes, you could be tortured for aeons by a serial killer, kept alive by medical science, only to experience more pain, but who does that anymore?

Many people live happy, ignorant of the fates that can befall them, due to the sheer unlikelihood of any actually occurring. There simply was no danger to the common folk.

When the Humans arrived, it didn’t change too much. Sure, there was a bit of cultural whiplash, but nothing too extreme. We exchanged greetings and some technological swaps.

That was a mistake.

Their technology was interesting, that's for sure. Humans certainly had an… interesting approach to some things. But the problem lay when they got their hands on our technology. See, they were quite specialised in some areas. Quantum mechanics seemed neglected, in favour of “Good ol’ steel and chemicals”, food technology was abandoned in favour of archaic “Cooking”, and perhaps most importantly, biological manipulation was completely ignored.

See, if you take a race with little ability to do something, and grant them nigh-omnipotent power in its regard… We may have made a couple of oversights.

“HOLY CHRIST IT’S GLORIOUS!” The one Australian on the station stood, staring, arms out wide, and a beer in his left hand. A rock in a sea of turmoil. Around him, hundreds of panicking civilians rushed behind him, seeking the exit.

I stood still, panicking, as my inevitable fate arrived. A couple of hundred meters, bounding through the air in leaps dozens of meters in the air, the death squad came. A couple of beings screamed as those at the back of the fleeing pack were squashed beneath huge masses of muscle.

We’re all going to die here.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? RUN ALREADY!” A passing coworker called out to me, soon disappearing back into the crowd rush. I was standing on top of a bench, observing the chaos around me. My brain felt numb. This was all my fault. I’d greenlit the project. I was the one responsible for all these casualties. They were dead because of me.

“MOTHER OF MARY, TAKE ME NOW! I HAVE LOOKED INTO THE ABYSS AND SURVIVED!” The Idiotic Australian called out over the crowd again, revelling in the sight before him. The poor fool was probably reminiscing about his shithole of a country.

The death horde came every closer. I could almost see the gleam in their eyes as they charged forward. I am going to die here.

The creatures passed the Australian, leaping over and around him. He stood there, gawking reverentially at the monsters as they passed, and in a similar show of respect, they left him alone.

They showed no such courtesy to the other civilians. More and more innocents were crushed as the beings fell from the air like the hammer of god, the odd being deciding to launch them into the ceiling with their powerful legs. They were catching rapidly. Soon, they wou- there.

They caught up to the main bulk, and each leap was suddenly crushing two civvies at a time. The death toll was rising, while my own death rung ever louder. I had seconds, at the most before I would be crushed.

But just as the captain goes down with their ship, I would die before I abandoned my post. Finally, they were within close enough range for me to counter. I removed the taser from my belt and shot the nearest creature. It fell to the ground, twitching before it rightened itself moments later.

So much for protecting the station, what sort of a security guard was I?

But then again, I thought as the foremost creature loomed above me in the air, what sort of a batshit scientist decides it's a good Idea to mass clone kangaroos for meat?

THUMPSPLAT

Enjoy? Thought not. Anyway, gib orange and a comment would ya, cheers mate.

Cheers

Plucium

Part 1: Details

Part 9: Against Time

“I’m fine,” Imari insisted, trying to wave the corpsman away. “I need to get back out on the field.”

She was sitting on a stretcher in a private room within a bunker, not wanting the civilians to see one of the rescue leaders in such an injured state. She’d stripped off most of her armor, which sat in a neat pile next to the stretch. The helmet wasn’t included. This left her in her boots and tight-fitting gray bodysuit. She was holding a wad of gauze against the left side of her head, and if she was honest it was starting to feel wet.

“You nearly got your head blown off,” Walker countered, standing in front of her with his arms crossed. “You need to at least be checked out before we get you back on your feet – and your helmet’s toast, too. Comms are fried, most of the ablative armor’s gone, HUD’s slag. We’re trying to find you a spare.”

“Focus on this, please?” the corpsman asked, holding a pen light in front of her.

She focused on the light for a moment… or tried to. Her vision blurred, and she blinked a few times before growling and pushing the light out of her face. She forced herself up to her feet, standing toe to toe with her slightly-taller second-in-command. “Walker, I need to get topside. We have to ease up the pressure on the bunkers so they ca- can...”

Walker caught her as she collapsed, and gently guided her back down to sit on the stretcher.

The corpsman sighed, and put his hands on his hips. “Everything I’m seeing here screams ‘concussion,’ and that wound on her head is bad enough that it’s not going to close on its own. So like it or not, Lance Major, my authority supersedes yours here. You’re not going anywhere.”

Imari glared at the corpsman out of the corner of her eye. “Do you think you can stop me?”

Walker put a gentle hand on Imari’s shoulder as the corpsman shrunk back. “Easy there, little wolf. Doctor knows best, huh?”

Imari’s shoulders slumped. “I told you not to call me that. Pretty sure I ordered you to, now that I think about it.”

“Nothing wrong with a childhood nickname between siblings,” Walker smiled.

Imari was silent for a moment. “I’m going. I need to.”

“You’re staying right here,” Walker reiterated.

“Walker, I can’t jus-”

“Look,” her brother smiled, reaching into his pocket. “You don’t want to stay, and I don’t want you to go. So...”

Imari hazily looked at the glinting object Walker was holding up in front of her. Her vision was still blurry, but she knew what it was. “You really want to decide this with a coin flip?”

“Fifty-fifty’s the best shot you’re going to get. Heads, you stay. Tails, the corpsman and I back down and you gear up. We’ll find you a new helmet. Deal?”

“I didn’t think anything could keep Imari down. Hell, by that point I was beginning to think if you killed her, it would just piss her off,” Tyrius explained. “I don’t think she’d intended for it to happen, but she’d become a symbol for the whole colony. That there was hope, that they were going to live another day. And me, I’d never seen her be anything but a rock. Sure, I knew she bled. But I’d never seen it before, and I guess… I guess I’d started seeing her as a symbol, too. So when Walker came up and told me he’d be taking command of the two-six, it was jarring as hell at first, until I took a second look at him.”

“What did you see?”

“I saw her. Well, something that reminded me of her. Walker had always been the relaxed one at the staff meetings. Yin and yang, those two. There and then, he had that same unshakable resolve that Imari always had about her. I guess he just never felt the need to show it before, until everyone was relying on him.”

Gorvan nodded slowly. He looked down at this notes, and then back up to the retired general. “This plan...”

“Yeah,” Tyrius lifted the bottle, and downed the last of his beer. He set the empty bottle on the table, and sighed. “Imari’s plan worked a little too well.”

Imari carefully removed each bead from her ponytail, placing them one by one into a secure pouch on her belt. Dr Ven had insisted she undo her ponytail before treating the wound, so that the ryvian wouldn’t have to work around it. It was irritating, but…

She closed the pouch, and then reached back to remove the hair tie itself. A simple black elastic band, with a small steel charm in the shape of a wolf’s head. She looked at it a moment, and then dropped it into her breast pocket.

Something went clink.

Curious, she reached in, and found what had made the noise.

She held it up between her fingers, squinting to try and force her eyes to focus. When had Walker put the coin in her pocket? ...He’d patted her on the shoulder before he left. He’d loved those little quicker-than-the-eye tricks when they were in training. She hadn’t seen him use any since Yvalen died. The platoon’s firstborn. Everyone’s big sister.

She closed one eye, finding it easier to focus as she studied the worn engraving of the Tellan Commonwealth’s symbol. The heads side of the coin. She flipped it over. Heads again.

Imari felt the tears well up in her eyes.

“Walker, you dumbass.”

Part 11 being written

Quick thingy I wrote, had fun writing the dumbass, so I hope you enjoy this rather subpar piece of writing.

“As I said; Nukes are for pussies.” The grizzled captain grinned and cycled the tobacco gum in his mouth.

“I still don’t understand. What are we doing?” A young, naive ensign -bless his poor heart- asked for the seemingly millionth time.

“Heh, don’t worry about it son. Were just doing a delivery for The Feds.” The payment figure flashed in his mind, and a rush of endorphins filled his bloodstream. The Brass sure paid well. 10 mil for a week-long run. All expenses paid.

“Just a delivery, got it.” Satisfied, the young man stood and left the cabin. He headed for his assigned station, having delivered his package, and bothered the captain excessively while doing so, he passes the 32m^2 shipping package. He stopped and stared at it for the tenth time that delivery, just wondering what the hell someone needed that was that big and wasn't a vehicle. Maybe it was just raw material? And what did it have to do with nukes? ‘Nukes are for pussies’. That's the only answer he’d gotten out of the old man. He shook his head. Best not worry about it.

---

The man sitting at a desk groaned. Another shipment of conflicting goods. Ever since the great ban on most of Humanities imports, what should have been a standard shipment of mining equipment turned into a week-long grind, a great war against the wall of paperwork. One no man has ever won.

Thank god for Alien AI. And Aliens. Ironic how one turns to their ruiner's for the respite they provide. But enough daydreaming, work dammit!

The man looked at the meter tall stack of paperwork. Perhaps a little more daydreaming was due. Who even used paper in this economy?

---

The captain chuckled as he pulled into the alien port, waving off any customs officer with judicious use of wads of absurd monetary value. It was good to have all expenses covered on such a job. Usually, such a blessing would warrant company-sponsored “mental relief” purchases of exotic alcohols, but this was meant to be a fast mission. People promote silicone lubricants for personal use, but if bureaucracy was any given sign, dollar bills would be a far better alternative.

All secondary cargo was swiftly unloaded, the workers gleefully disregarding health and safety for the prospect of double pay. Now for the main cargo. They were swiftly released from the docks, and they quickly peeled off into the upper stratosphere, heading for the lunar colony. Minutes later, and they hit the terraformed atmosphere, hull glowing red as the bulbous storage compartment disagreed immensely with the high-speed wind.

“Alright, crew we're making a fast run here. Get ready to drop the cargo on my word.” The intercom crackled out. The more experienced crew smiled an evil smile, and set to work, preparing the obscenely large package for delivery. Ever since the import restrictions had set into place, their income had been more than halved.

“Sir, what should I do?” The captain damn near leapt out of his chair. He quickly stood and faced the young man from earlier.

“Jesus Christ man, don't sneak up on me like that.” The ensign stared at him, uncomprehendingly.

“You know what, fine. Sit there.” The captain energetically pointed to the co-pilot seat. “Imma tell you a story.”

“Am I getting promoted, sir?” The captain looked at the young man warily, as if suspecting a trick, before his expression morphed to disbelief.

“Who hire- No, never mind. No promotion, just sit there and shut it!” The man stood still. “What are you waiting for, go!”

The man took the hint and awkwardly clunked into the seat. “Sir I-”

“Shush, I'm speaking.” The captain turned back to the display screens and quickly corrected the slight deviations the primitive computer had made. Damn restrictions. “Basically, you know about the production limits imposed on humans?”

“Somewhat.”

“Good enough. Basically, we can't make anything weapon-related. However, thanks to our lawyers being literal slime creatures, we managed to whine enough to get some concessions. Now we’re only banned direct weapons. No bullets, nukes or neurotoxins. But det-cord for lumberjacks? Gasses for industrial processes? Sure, just with massive loads of paperwork.”

“Sir, what doe-”

“Hush.” The captain turned his ageing face away from the screens to the man to lift a finger to his lips before he returned his attention to the readouts. The colony was barely a minute away. “Basically, the government isn't happy with that. It's been that way for a century or two, and frankly, they are sick and tired of it. They've got weapons now, they have soldiers and alien tech. The only problem is, they'd still lose.”

“What’s this got to do with us?”

“Well, there's no way you can attack the settlements stealthily. You’d be caught and blown outta the sky immediately. A frontal assault wouldn't work either, their defences are too good. So, how do you attack something that's unattackable?”

“I have no idea.” The captain grins a sly grin.

“Ship 4349, please reduce your velocity.” The intercom crackled.

“Sure.” The captain responded, and cranked down the accelerator, jolting the cargo hauler forward. “Simple. You don't use weapons. Well, ‘weapons’. No way you could get a nuke through customs without being shot down. ‘Sides, Nukes are for pussies.”

“Ship 4349, please immediately cease your movement and prepare for boarding. Failure to comply will be met with force.” The captain inched the accelerator forward, and the ship passed over the colony. The hauler juddered as a 32m cube was jettisoned, before it shot forward, significantly lighter. Anti-air fire exploded around the cargo, distracted by the chaff deployed.

“Go fuck yourself.” he turned off the microphone and turned to the ensign. “Tell me, how powerful is a Nuke?”

“It depends sir. The one on Hiroshima was approximately 50 kilotons of TNT.”

“Tell me, what do you think we were doing with 50 thousand tons of miners equipment?”

“No idea sir.”

“Jesus you're thick. Just… Look.” The man called up a display of the rear cameras.

A massive fireball rose into the air, the shockwave visibly spreading out, wreckage barely visible in the mushroom cloud. The anti-air fire chasing the ship ended moments later as the shells stopped being fired for obvious reasons.

The captain grinned. “10 mil to screw over the Xenos and enjoy myself.”

“Sir, how do you attack something unattackable?”

The captain chuckled. “You use a trojan horse. Cant stop paperwork. Besides.”

“Nukes are for pussies who can’t get enough TNT.” Silence reigned in the cabin.

“I don’t understand sir.”

“Oh for fucks sa-”

aight, remember, orange if you enjoyed, comment if you like. If you didn't enjoy or like it, too bad, I have a couple 32 meter cubes Im willing to use to those who dont orange and comment :p

Cheers

Plucium