The Hunt

Marco Polo, Orbit of Uncharted Planet “WISE J050822.11-344357.1 b” alias “Bob”

Date: 23 February 2178

Time: 14:47:12 UTC

“Well, it looks like our preliminary naming of this world is off the table. We can't call a jewel like this just Bob.” Captain Jaxon Marks smirked and leaned back in his command chair, eyes fixed on the holographic display projected before him. The planet below, officially still designated WISE J050822.11-344357.1 b, was a stunning celestial body. Turquoise oceans, sprawling continents, and vast mountain ranges stretched across its surface. The ship's sensors had already confirmed a breathable atmosphere, and the readings were still coming in.

"Captain, I'm picking up something unusual," Specialist Elianore Tucker said, with a hint of excitement.

Captain Marks's gaze snapped towards Tucker, looking sceptical. "More unusual than a garden world, Specialist? Don’t tell me we found aliens."

Tucker nodded, her eyes darting between the captain and the data streaming across her console. "Affirmative, sir. I'm reading structures, possibly habitations, and what appears to be a network of roads or pathways."

Marks's brow furrowed. "That's impossible. We're over 200 light-years from Earth. There's no way a human settlement could be out here without us knowing about it."

He leaned forward, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Double-check your readings, Specialist. I want to know if this is some kind of anomaly or a glitch in our sensors."

Tucker's fingers flew across her console, and after a few tense moments, she looked up at the captain. "Sir, I've re-run the scans. The readings are confirmed. Whatever this is, it's definitely not natural."

Captain Marks's mind was racing. The implications were staggering. If this was indeed a settlement, it could only mean one thing: they were not alone in the universe. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He had always wondered if humanity would ever encounter extraterrestrial life, and now, it seemed, he might be the first to do so.

"Alright, Specialist," Marks said, his voice measured. "Let's take a closer look. Raise our sensors to high gain and see if we can gather more information about this... settlement."

As the Marco Polo's sensors began to probe the planet's surface, Captain Marks couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the cusp of something momentous. Something that would change the course of human history forever.

"Captain, I'm reading something else," Tucker reported hoarsely.

Marks's eyes locked onto the specialist. "What is it, Tucker?"

Specialist Elianore Tucker's voice cut through the calm of the bridge, her tone laced with concern. "Captain, I'm reading a disturbance in the Warp C-Band. It's distorted, but it's definitely there."

Captain Marks raised an eyebrow. "C-Band? Nobody uses that for warp, Elianore. It's too violent."

Tucker nodded. "I know, sir. Most WEST ships use the E-Band, it's harder to focus but smoother to sail.”

Marks was well aware of that. The Marco Polo could even use the experimental G-Band, which allows for nearly 2000 times the speed of light but was even more finicky to focus.

Just as Tucker finished speaking, the bridge was bathed in the eerie glow of incoming ships. Two hundred vessels, each a behemoth compared to the Marco Polo, emerged from the depths of space.

There was dire tension in the air as Captain Marks' eyes widened in alarm.

And immediately the proximity alarm sounded! Thousands over thousands of ballistic objects launched from the armada towards the Marco Polo.

"Red alert! Evade, evade, evade!” shouted Captain Marks, “Bring SHORAD online, now! Navigator Dorelman, calculate a warp out of this clusterfuck!"

The Marco Polo shuddered as the antimatter reactors roared to life, propelling the ship forward at nearly 10g. The inertial dampeners struggled to compensate, the crew was still thrown back into their seats. The SHORAD turrets sprang to life, spewing forth a hail of point-defense projectiles that shredded most of the incoming ballistic objects.

Captain Marks's grin was a mixture of relief and adrenaline. "That was a lucky call, people! We're clear of the initial barrage!"

But Navigator Dorelman's voice was laced with concern. "Captain, I'm having trouble getting the warp drive online. The disturbance from the C-Band is too great."

Marks's eyes narrowed. "Keep trying, Dorelman. We need to get out of here, now!"

As the Marco Polo continued to accelerate, the crew struggled to keep up with the chaos. The ship was taking small shrapnel damage, but it was still whizzing through space at incredible velocity, dodging the incoming fire like a fly a fly squatter.

Weapon Officer Kurz's voice cut through the turmoil. "Captain, the enemy is firing unguided... cannon balls? And they're using a 'crossing the T' formation, like a pre-industrial sea fleet, firing broadsides?"

The bridge crew exchanged stunned glances. What kind of enemy would use such outdated tactics? And how could someone be insane enough to travel through C-Band warp?

Captain Marks's face set in a determined expression. "We'll worry about that later. Right now, let's focus on getting out of here alive. Engineer Dorelman, can you give me an estimate on when we'll have the warp drive ready?"

Dorelman's voice was hesitant. "I'm not sure, Captain. The disturbance is too great. You need to bring distance between their warp generators and ours… I’ll try to calculate an E-Band warp, that should give us less speed but easier warp."

Marks's eyes locked onto the engineer. "Do it, Dorelman. I’ll give you some distance to work with, everyone, make haste, we need to get out of here, now!"

"Alright, listen up!" Captain Marks barked, his voice cutting through the chaos of the bridge. "Ready all weapons! We're going to punch a line into their formation and make off as fast as we can. Helm, align 75.15, Sensors, set target painters on every ship ahead. Weapons, prepare to fire the coax rail gun in short bursts. I want them licking theirs wounds but not dead. Repeat, avoid destroying these ships. Let's show them what we're made of!"

Targeting lasers beamed through the void, marking and measuring a dozen of the massive enemy battleships. Upon contact sensors calculated the distance to 14 klicks and immediately the rail-gun fired in short, controlled bursts, unleashing energized tungsten rods at 30km/s. The rods punched straight through the battleships, causing them to lose control and roll in space, venting atmosphere and inner structure.

Already the Marco Polo surged forward, its engines screaming in protest as it accelerated to 11g. The ship shuddered and groaned, its hull creaking under the strain. At least the enemy ships, due to their massive size, seemed to struggle to keep up. They lumbered forward, their acceleration pitifully slow compared to the Marco Polo's breakneck speed.

As the Marco Polo burst through the hole in the enemy formation, the four automated SHORAD turrets calculated imminent collisions, sprang to life, unleashing a hail of point-defense projectiles that obliterated almost two dozen small, nimble fighters within two seconds.

When the Marco Polo emerged on the other side of the enemy formation, its crew breathed a collective sigh of relief. But as they looked back at the enemy fleet, they couldn't help but feel a sense of incredulity.

"What in the...?" Captain Marks trailed off, shaking his head.

Weapon Officer Kurz chuckled. "I think we just got attacked by Steam Punk aliens, sir. I mean, who uses cannon balls in space?"

The bridge crew erupted into laughter, the tension of the past few minutes dissipating. But Captain Marks's expression quickly turned serious.

"Alright, let's keep the jokes to a minimum. We just got out of a very tight spot, and we don't know what other surprises these... Steam Punk aliens might have in store for us."

He turned to the crew, his eyes scanning the room. "Let's keep our focus on getting out of here and reporting back to WEST. If I never see those Steampunk aliens again, it will be too soon."

The bridge crew responded with a crisp "Aye, Sir," remaining resolute despite the smiles on their faces.

"Captain, I'm getting a clear warp on the E-Band," Specialist Tucker said, her voice steady. "We should be able to make it back to WEST space without any further incidents."

Captain Marks nodded, his eyes fixed on the navigation display. "Let's hope so, Elianore. Let's hope so."

Marks continued to call out commands in preparation for warp, his voice steady and calm. "Alright, let's get ready to head back to Earth. Navigation, plot a course for Earth. Engineer Dorelman, get me warp, whatever you can manage."

Just as the crew was about to execute the orders, a Security Ensign burst into the bridge, out of breath. "Hold the warp! Hold the warp, Captain!"

The bridge crew turned to look at the Ensign, annoyance and amusement on their faces.

Captain Marks raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Ensign...?"

"Jamil, sir," the Ensign replied, still gasping for air. "I'm Ensign Jamil. I couldn't help but overhear your plan to warp back to Earth, sir."

Marks's expression turned skeptical. "And what's wrong with that plan, Ensign?"

Jamil took a deep breath before speaking. "Sir, I think we should not underestimate the enemy. We should not warp back directly to Earth. We don’t know…"

Kurz, the Weapon Officer, stepped forward, droning with a stern voice. "Ensign, you're breaking protocol. You should have reported to your superior officer before coming to the bridge."

But Captain Marks interrupted Kurz, his voice calm. "No, no, Kurz. The Ensign speaks rightfully. Navigation, plot a course straight out of the galactic plane, away from Earth. We'll go to warp as soon as possible."

The bridge crew exchanged surprised glances, but Marks continued, his eyes locked on Jamil. "The Ensign is correct. The enemy might have outdated weapon technology but we don’t know if the enemy is able to track warp signals. We better don’t draw a map for him to our home world. And just to make myself clear, if your Captain makes a mistake, warn him. The worst thing that can happen for being wrong is an amused smile on your Captain's face."

As the ship entered E-Band Warp, Captain Marks turned to Jamil, a small smile on his face. "So, Ensign Jamil, what's your story? What brings you to the Marco Polo?"

Jamil smiled back, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm an ex-police officer, sir. I studied criminal psychology in Mumbay and worked for the homicide department for 25 years. After my second gastric ulcer I wanted to see space before retiring. My job aboard the Marco Polo is usually to calm down minor disputes and maybe lock up a drunk once a week."

Marks chuckled. "You're overqualified for this job, Ensign."

Jamil grinned. "You can't be overqualified in space, sir."

Marks raised an eyebrow. "Fair point. So, Ensign, why do you think I didn't order to destroy the enemy ships?"

Jamil thought for a moment before responding. "I think you didn't want to escalate the situation further, sir."

Marks shock his head. "That's a good explanation but incorrect, Ensign. I didn't think that far, but I knew the enemy would be more busy rescuing damaged ships than writing off destroyed ships."

Jamil smiled. "You're not much of a diplomatic guy, are you, sir?"

Marks smirked. "Not at all, Ensign. But I'll take that as a compliment."

He turned to Jamil, his expression serious. "Stay around the bridge, Ensign. You have earned it and maybe we both can learn from each other."

Jamil nodded, a small smile on his face. "Aye, aye, Captain."

The Marco Polo warped for two hours, covering almost half a light year of distance. Finally Captain Marks ordered the ship to leave warp.

"Alright, let's take a look around," Marks announced, his voice calm. "Tucker, scan the warp bands and see if we have any company."

Tucker nodded, her eyes fixed on her console. "Aye, aye, Captain. Scanning now."

Jamil, who had taken a seat to the left of the Captain, strapped into the safety belts like everyone else, looked at Marks with a curious expression.

"Captain, I have to ask, what's the plan here?" Jamil asked.

The Captain checked his own console without looking up. "We're just taking a look around, Ensign. Making sure we're not being followed."

But before Marks could continue, Tucker's voice cut through the calm.

"Captain, I have interference on the C-Band warp, incoming!" Tucker announced, “ETA four mike.”

Marks's expression turned serious. "Align straight away from the incoming angle and accelerate to cruise at 6g. Let's create some distance."

The Marco Polo's engines roared to life, propelling the ship forward at 6g. The crew was pushed back into their seats as the ship accelerated.

Four minutes later, the enemy fleet popped back into real space, right where the Marco Polo had left warp. But the Marco Polo was no longer there. It had moved away over 1500 kilometers, far outside of the enemy's weapons range.

Tucker's eyes were fixed on her console, scanning the newcomer. "Captain, I'm reading the enemy fleet. 174 ships, the same fleet that jumped on us at planet Bob, minus 24 ships."

"This is not good," Kurz said, his voice low. "We can't outrun them if they can follow us through warp."

Marks nodded and used the intercom. "Dorelman, when can you get full speed on the G-Band?"

Dorelman's voice came over the comms system. "Even without those C-Band disturbances, it will always take a couple of hours, Captain. The G-Band is a finicky thing and only used for long distance warp."

Marks's expression turned thoughtful. "Alright, let's keep moving. We'll try to lose them in the vastness of space. It seems the enemies relativistic acceleration is limited around 2g. Let’s keep cruising at 5g until we can get into the G-Band"

“174 ships.” stated Jamil. “This means they left 12 ships to tend the damaged 12 ships. Their logic is somewhat resembling human psychology.”

The Marco Polo continued to burn its engines through space, its crew on alert, waiting to see what the enemy would do next.

Tucker's voice cut through the calm of the bridge, her tone urgent. "Captain, the enemy is aligning towards us, creating a C-Band-Warp Field!"

Jamil and Kurz looked shocked, their eyes fixed on Marks, who already knew what the enemy was trying to do.

"A short range warp, right on top of us!" Marks exclaimed, his voice rising in alarm.

The bridge erupted into chaos as Marks shouted out hasty commands to get battle ready. "Dorelman, get us warp, G, F, E, D Band, whatever, just get us moving NOW!"

Dorelman's voice came over the intercom, laced with frustration. "Captain, you better make up your mind! I've just configured the engines for an G-band warp!"

Marks's response was immediate. "JUST DO IT, Dorelman! We don't have time for this!"

The enemy fleet suddenly flashed in at just seven kilometers to their side, immediately opening fire. The Marco Polo's SHORAD turrets sprang to life, spewing forth a hail of point-defense projectiles to counter the incoming fire.

"Red Alert, evasive maneuvers!" Marks shouted, his voice carrying above the din of the battle. "Fire Wrecker Torpedos at the closest ships!"

The four Torpedo Tubes opened fire, sending the bulky warheads towards two carriers and two massive dreadnoughts. The carriers spewed out fighters, which were quickly engaged by the Marco Polo's medium range missile systems.

As the battle raged on, Kurz took the liberty to fire the coax rail gun at targets of opportunity, literally cutting an alien cruiser in half and punching holes into five more ships. The crew was thrown around their seats, only held in place by the safety constrains as the ship performed insane evasive maneuvers.

For almost ten minutes, the Marco Polo danced through the void, avoiding the enemy's attacks and striking back whenever possible. Finally, Dorelman's voice came over the intercom, his tone relieved.

"Captain, I've got a D-Band Warp ready! We can jump to warp now!"

“Engage!” shouted Marks so loud Dorelman could hear him without the intercom.

The Marco Polo sped off to warp space, riding along the rough D-band warp. The crew was shaken around, struggling to maintain their footing as the ship shuddered and groaned. The D-band was the oldest practically used warp technology but closer to a roller coaster than a smooth flight.

Marks's voice cut through the din, demanding ammunition and damage report. "Alright, let's get a report on our status. What's our ammo situation?"

Kurz’s voice boomed angrily behind him. "Captain, we've got one SHORAD turret down, and the three remaining are down to 30% ammunition. Mid-Range Missiles are down to 50%, and we've got 8 Torpedos left out of 16. The coax rail gun has 60% ammunition left."

Marks's expression turned grim. "Damage control, what's our damage situation?"

The damage control officer's voice came over the intercom, his tone strained. "Captain, we've got 400 small leaks, temporarily sealed by security foam. We're working on welding more permanent seals, but it's going to take some time."

Marks nodded, his mind racing. "Alright, let's prioritize the SHORAD ammunition, take it from the damaged turret to the working ones. Whatever comes next, without SHORAD we are toast. Don’t worry about the seals, the foam should hold up for a while and we still have EVA suits."

Kurz's smuggly laughed, his tone triumphant. "Captain, we disabled seven enemy ships, with at least four being total losses. And I scored at least 20 random hits on other ships, nothing critical, but hopefully taking them out of the fight for the time being."

Jamil shook his head in concern. "Captain, I think the enemy Commander is taking this personally. He is becoming more and more reckless, sacrificing ships in a fight he could easily avoid. He's not going to leave ships behind to help the damaged ones. He might even bring the damaged ships back into the fight, even though they're only good for soaking up more hits."

His face turned sour as the bad news kept on coming, meanwhile the Marco Polo rumbled harshly through the D-band warp, the crew on edge, waiting to see what the enemy would do next.

“Do not discuss this on the Bridge.” stated Captain Marks, “Kurz, Tucker, Jamil, Dorelman. Mess Hall. Now.”

Soon the core command found itself in the deserted mess hall.

Captain Marks's expression turned grim as he concluded the dire prospects they faced. "We're dealing with an enemy that can travel the violent C-Band as fast as we can travel the calm E-Band. They can do precise short range warps, and they're not afraid to get into a bloody fight without reason."

"Agreed, Captain," Jamil concluded calmly. "Their immediate violent reaction shows they're utterly territorial. Their restless pursuit hints at them being vindictive too. They're not just defending their territory, they're seeking revenge."

"Sir, the sheer size of their fleet is ridiculous," Kurz said, his voice laced with concern. "And that seems to be just one fleet guarding a single farming world with low population. The sheer tonnage of that fleet almost surpasses all space-born assets WEST holds."

"Affirmative, Lieutenant," Tucker added. "It's like they're trying to intimidate us with sheer numbers, and to be honest, it works. But it's not just the numbers, it's the tactics they're using. They will throw everything at us, no matter the costs."

"A single farming world could never sustain such a fleet, Captain," Jamil said, his eyes squinting. "They must be a multi-star civilization. Maybe hundreds, if not thousands of worlds. The implications are staggering. No matter how superior our weaponry is, a fight between our civilizations would be apocalyptic for us."

Captain Marks stood up and straightened his uniform, looking sternly at his command crew "I will not lead them to Earth, and I will not let the Marco Polo fall into their hands," Captain Marks said, his voice firm. "No matter the costs. We'll do whatever it takes to protect our people and our way of life. Sooner I will steer the Marco Polo into a black hole."

"Aye, aye, Captain," the bridge crew replied in unison.

"We'll keep running, and we'll keep fighting," Captain Marks said, his voice resolute. "We'll find a way to outsmart them, outmaneuver them, and outlast them. And if we fail, we make sure they get nothing out of it."

The Marco Polo shuddered as it hit a series of magnetic anomalies of the D-Band warp, everyone tightening their safety belts. This wasn’t going even close to the book.

Jamil spoke up, a hint of sarcasm in his words. "Captain, before we hop into a black hole, I think we should try something. We can't just give up."

Captain Marks nodded grimmly. "I agree. Let's hear some ideas. Speak your minds, people."

Tucker spoke up first. "We can never leave our chasers behind while running on the D-Band, Captain. At worst, those Steampunkers are even able to attack us in warp when they catch up. At best we run out of energy sooner or later."

Dorelman nodded in agreement. "And we would need a couple of minutes in real space to reconfigure our engines for E-Band again. Easily half a day for the G-Band."

Kurz's voice was grim. "We won't survive long enough with the Steampunkers warping right on top of us. We need to come up with something, and fast."

Officer Dorelman's face lit up with a hold-my-beer expression. "I think I have something, Captain. One of our eight warp field generators has been damaged and can't safely operate any more. Instead, we could use it as a decoy."

Marks's eyes narrowed. "Go on."

Dorelman explained, "We could strap an auxiliary generator to it and let it drift while the Marco Polo drops out of warp and reconfigures the engines for E-Band Warp. The decoy would continue on, making it look like we're still running on the D-Band."

Tucker's eyes lit up. "I can synchronize the warp fields between the decoy and the Marco Polo. For an external observer, it would be barely a noticeable blink when the Marco Polo drops out of warp and the decoy continues onwards."

Dorelman nodded. "The warp field generator would need to run at 200% to actually fake our signature. It would sooner or later explode like a nuke.”

“Later would be better,” Jamil remarked. “How about slowly reducing the energy after launch? It's better to keep them guessing than to completely expose the bait by blowing it up.”

Captain Marks's expression turned thoughtful. "Let's get to work. Dorelman, get the decoy ready. Tucker, synchronize the warp fields. Kurz, you’ll have navigation while Dorelman is busy, also double check all weapon systems. Jamil, get me regular sitreps."

The crew sprang into action, their faces set with determination. It was a long shot, but also a good plan.

One hour later, the preparations for the decoy maneuver were complete. Everyone on the bridge was tense as Dorelman opened the hangar doors and floated the decoy outside, a worrying pile of scrap metal held together by duct tape and prayers.

Tucker's hands flew across her console as she tried to synchronize the warp fields. "Slow down, Captain, just a couple of percent. I need to align the fields perfectly."

Captain Marks's. "Kurz, you heard her. After the decoy gets going we don't have much time."

The tension on the bridge was palpable as Tucker worked to synchronize the warp fields. Finally, she nodded, her eyes fixed on her console. "It's done, Captain. Everything is running on computer now."

The Marco Polo's warp field flickered and died, and the decoy propelling both forward for one, two seconds. Then the Marco Polo slipped out of the warp field and with a hefty shaking entered real space. The decoy, meanwhile, was already speeding away several times faster than light.

The crew held their breath as the massive fleet of pursuers passed by through warp space. They could almost feel the disturbance of real space, like someone walking over their graves. It was a chilling feeling, but they knew they had to hold silence.

Dorelman's voice was calm and focused. "Engine room here, starting to align our warp generators to the E-Band Warp Field. ETA three Mike.”

“Let's get away from our warp exit,” Captain Marks announced “Helm, heading 315.90, cruise speed. Dorelman, I love your tinkering but I am gonna get ready if things go south before we get into warp again."

The Marco Polo's relativistic engines roared to life, the ship began to shake and tremble. The crew held on, this was a risky gamble, but they had to try.

Kurz let out a hearty laugh as the ship reached cruise speed. "Let's do this. We'll make it out of here, or we'll die trying."

But then of Tucker spoke concerned. "Distortions in the D-Warp-Field have suddenly ceased, Captain."

Kurz's voice was grim. "Our decoy might have just gone the way of the dodo."

Moments later, Tucker announced, "C-Warp-Fields are winding down, Captain. The enemy seems to be slowing down."

Dorelman's voice was calm and focused. "ETA two minutes for E-Band-Warp, Captain."

The enemy signal came back, moving back towards them. "ETA one mike till Warp, Captain," Dorelman announced.

The enemy armada dropped out of warp, some 1200 kilometers away, realigning for a short warp towards the Marco Polo. "ETA 15 seconds, Captain," Tucker warned.

The enemy fleet blinked in within nine kilometers. "ETA 10 seconds, Captain," Dorelman announced.

Marks's opened the intercom. "Dorelman, hit the button whenever you're ready."

The enemy barrage was underway, but the Marco Polo was ready. "ETA minus 5 seconds, Captain. HIT IT!" Dorelman announced.

The Marco Polo blinked into warp, the enemy barrage wasted on empty space. The crew breathed a collective sigh of relief as the ship disappeared into the safety of the E-Band warp.

"Made it, Captain," Dorelman said, his voice laced with relief.

Marks's voice was calm and resolute. "Let's keep moving, people. We're not out of this yet."

---

The flight in the E-Band was now much smoother than before on the D-Band. The crew had settled into a routine, with repairs going well and the ship managing to keep a safe distance from their pursuers.

With Captain Marks overseeing the repairs of a torpedo launcher, Tucker's voice came over the intercom. "Captain, I've managed to guesswork from the sensor readings the number and tonnage of our followers. Still over 150 ships on our tail."

Captain Marks's expression turned grim. "Keep monitoring them, Tucker. We need to know what they're up to."

The next four days passed in a blur of routine and tension. The crew worked tirelessly to keep the ship running, while the Steampunkers, as the crew had aptly nicknamed them, continued to pursue them.

On the fifth day, Captain Marks called a staff meeting, inviting Reactor Engineer Ling. "Ling, how's our fuel situation looking?"

Ling's expression was serious. "We can operate on this level for two weeks, Captain. But then we'll run out of fuel. We need to stop and scoop some Hydrogen, which would easily require a whole week."

Jamil, who had been quietly observing the conversation, spoke up. "Not exactly an option with the Steampunkers on hot pursuit, is it?"

Kurz's voice was laced with a hint of desperation. "Maybe it's better to go out with a bang than a fizzle. How about the black hole again?"

The room fell silent, with everyone brooding for a moment.

Again it was Jamil who broke the silence, "I wonder if the Steampunkers would follow us into the black hole too."

A sudden blink of realization washed over everyone.

Captain Marks's expression turned cold and calculating.

"It's not the Marco Polo that needs to end in a black hole. It's our pursuers."

A thoughtful Dorelman spoke spoke up. "The Steampunkers have a much lower relative acceleration, Captain. The Marco Polo can burn at 12g for several minutes, maybe more. The Steampunkers... never went beyond 2g. Even their fighters are slower than us."

Jamil's eyes narrowed at Dorelman. "What are you up to?"

Captain Marks let out a cruel chuckle. "We could warp into the gravitational field of a black hole, so close that the Marco Polo could escape at full thrust. But our pursuers would be sucked in, lacking the powerful relativistic engines like the Marco Polo has."

The room fell silent, with everyone considering the implications of Captain Marks's plan.

"Captain, what if the Steampunkers could just evade by a short distance warp?" wondered Tucker concerned.

Dorelman raised a brooding brow. "I'm unsure about the distortions of the black hole, Tucker. It might make their warp ineffective. But if not... If I could generate a B-Band Warp Field, this would definitely disable their C-Band-Fields."

Captain Marks's eyes narrowed. "Nobody travels in B-Band because it literally rips atoms apart, but just generating a disruption B-field, that should be not too hard."

Dorelman nodded. "I can try to modify the warp generators to produce a B-Band disruption field. But we'll need to search for known black holes to find one that's suitable for our plan. We don't want to end up in an active black hole with an accretion disk that glows at billions of degrees.”

Captain Marks's listened carefully then made his decision. "Let's get to work on this plan. I want a list of potential black holes and a detailed plan for generating a B-Band disruption field."

The teams were busy for the next hours, tinkering with the warp generators and researching known black holes. Dorelman and his team worked tirelessly to modify the warp generators, while Jamil, Tucker and Kurz poured over star charts and astronomical data to find the perfect black hole. Everyone knew that their plan was a long shot, but they were willing to try anything to shake off their pursuers.

Four days later. MACHO-20896-BLG-19, an intermediate black hole of he Olbert class, lied in ambush in the darkness, was invisible to the naked eye, only made its presence aware by bending the light of the stars behind it, even consuming light itself, its hunger eternal. And today would be feeding day.

The Marco Polo aligned its flight path tangential towards the gravity well of the monster, its course precise almost down to Planck length.

At his final speech to the crew Captain Marks's voice was calm and resolute.

"Crew of the Marco Polo, you know the plan. This is the moment we shine, no matter the costs. We'll either get home in one piece or die trying. But either way, the Steampunkers are going down into the black hole. If anyone can make this plan work it is us. We'll take out the Steampunkers and hopefully make it back to Earth in one piece. Failure is not an option."

The crew gave back a war cry, their cries full of determination. They knew that they would be dancing on the blade of a knife, the teeth of the monster itself, but they were ready to face it head-on.

And then the Marco Polo flashed back into real space next to MACHO-20896-BLG-19, its gravity well stretching out like a predators claw in the fabric of space-time.

Specialist Elianore Tucker shouted worried across the bridge. "Captain, we're fucking close to the event horizon! We're talking kilometers from the point of no return!"

Captain Marks's calmly called out commands. "Align the ship and fire all thrusters at max power! We need to stabilize our position and hold position for the B-field disruption."

The ship groaned as it was almost bent at 12g, hovering so close to the event horizon that the monster literally blacked out half the sky. The Marco Polo slowed down from falling towards the singularity of the black hole, the limits of known physics straining while keeping the ship intact.

Meanwhile in the engine hall, Dorelman's voice was screaming in frustration while trying to connect another auxiliary power cable directly into the third warp generator. "Come on, you piece of shit! Create the B-field!"

Jamil's voice chimed in, "Did you try rebooting? Maybe it just needs a kick?"

Dorelman's response was a string of curses, "I've tried everything, you numbskull! I've kicked it, I've screamed at it, I've even tried bribing it with a pint of beer!"

To make things worse, the Steampunkers warped in. 152 ships, caught off-guard, facing the black hole, some straight forward warped beyond the event horizon, gone for good, the rest immediately pulled in without mercy. As expected, they quickly aligned, creating their C-warp-fields.

But it was too late. Jamil went bonkers and used a sledgehammer to force the power connector into the warp field generator. Suddenly the lights all over the ship flickered and the generator awoke with a dull humming.

“You fucking did it.” Dorelman laughed and focused the B-field, and the Steampunkers' warp fields violently flickered out of existence, their warp drives crippled by the B-field disruption.

The Marco Polo's crew watched in awe as the Steampunkers' ships were pulled towards the black hole, their screams of despair almost echoing through the void. It was a brutal, merciless end, and the Marco Polo's watched without remorse, the Steampunkers' ships slowly redshifted towards the event horizon, their lights fading into the distance. The Marco Polo's crew surelly respected their enemies but didn't shed a single tear for them.

"Well, I guess black holes just suck," Jamil chuckled with the last enemy ship slowly faded from space-time.

The Marco Polo still burned its engines at 12g, creeping out of the gravity well of the black hole.

"We're so close to the black hole's event horizon” Tucker's voice was filled with awe, “that our time shift is almost by a factor of one thousand, Captain. Time is literally slowing down for us relative to the rest of the universe. One second for us is almost 15 minutes for the outside universe"

Captain Marks's voice was cold and calculating. "Keep burning, people. We need to get out of here before we become part of the black hole's body count."

But before they could even process the enormity of their situation, another fleet of almost 400 ships exited warp below them. More Steampunks to feed the black hole.

The crew's reaction was one of flabbergasted shock. "What the...? How did they even...?" Tucker’s voice trailed off as he stared at the viewscreen in horror.

There was incredulity in Captain Marks' voice. “Did they really send 400 ships as reinforcements without sending a scout ahead? What kind of military strategy is that?”

Tucker's voice was barely above a whisper while she read her sensors. "I think this IS the ahead scout, Captain."

Moments later, almost 2000 ships blinked into real space, also instantly falling towards the black hole. The sheer panicked reaction was evident as tens of thousands of escape pods were launched, none escaping the hunger of the black hole.

And then another fleet, again 2000 ships. And another, 800 ships. All ending up in the maws of the black hole.

The dying took on absurd scales as nothing seemed to stop the vengeful Steampunks from warping into their death. The Marco Polo crew watched in stunned silence as the carnage unfolded before their eyes.

And then, finally... nothing.

The Marco Polo crew remained silent, their faces pale and shocked, as their battle-marked ship slowly crawled out of the gravity well of the black hole. The blackness of the hungry stellar predator seemed to hunger for them, not content with the thousands of ships it had already consumed, swallowed them whole, a dark warning of the horrors they had just witnessed, the crew's minds were reeling, trying to process the sheer scale of the destruction they had just witnessed.

Two hours passed, and the Marco Polo cleared the gravity well of the black hole, finally Captain Marks's relaxed and send out the long awaited command, low and somber. "Dorelman, get us out of here."

Jamil reminded the Captain gently. "Not directly to Earth, Captain. We don't know if they have any more surprises waiting for us."

Marks nodded, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen. "I know. Let's take the long way home."

They entered E-band-warp, again out of the galactic plane, their engines humming as they zig-zagged through local space to shake off any pursuers.

But none showed up.

For weeks, the Marco Polo travelled the endless dark of space, changing course randomly, sometimes luring for a couple of hours behind a deep space asteroid, looking for their hunters, their only companions the distant stars and the endless darkness of space. Finally, they dared to make a long stop around a dark rogue neptuniod, drifting between stars, siphoning off its cold hydrogen and conducting repairs.

Still, no sign of their hunters.

The crew's silence was palpable, an almost suffocating blanket. They knew what they had seen, what they had witnessed. Yes, they saw the defeat of their enemy. But more ominously, they had glimpsed the violent resolve that lay beneath their surface. The message they carried back to Earth was clear: humanity was not alone, and any notions of friendship were a delusion.

After weeks adrift, they finally engaged the G-band warp field, propelling the Marco Polo back toward Earth. They returned with news of how one scientific vessel had vanquished an armada of thousands of warships, but also about an unrelenting enemy. The defeat they had inflicted upon the new enemy would surely awake a vendetta in their alien foes. They had awoken a giant, filled with terrible resolve.

For better or worse humanity would now awake its own monsters to prepare when they meet again.

---

The story itself is complete but I think I need to rewrite some wording and maybe add a more fitting ending.

There's a whole genre of sci-fi that has a major premise as "humanity is the most powerful/dominating/victorious species in the cosmos...and that's not a compliment". I always understood that to be a facet of HFY, but per this sub's description HFY should be "uplifting".

Like, a story where aliens try to invade Earth and we kick their asses is definitely HFY. But what if we then enslave the survivors of the alien horde? What if we reverse engineer their tech, go to their homeworld, and nuke their planet? What if we tailor a virus to their genome and purge the galaxy of their entire species, and their little alien babies die screaming in their little alien cribs?

Is that HFY?

Not mine, but by several people on tumblr (Archive.org link in case the tumblr link pushes a sign in)

Undocumented Buttons

"Globtroq, what are these buttons for?" asked the spindly Ognimalf named Bert, holding the pilot chair upside-down to his obese Adnap buddy, Globtroq. The unlikely duo owned a run-down repair shop for small spacecraft in the remote corners of the galaxy. Their business was far from glamorous; in fact, they spent most of their days fiddling with spaceships that had been acquired in rather dubious ways.

Globtroq looked at the buttons: two green, two pink, one grayish. They were cleverly concealed beneath the obviously human pilot chair.

“Dunno…” Globtroq mumbled, reaching towards the buttons.

"Hell no, don't touch them!" Bert shrieked, pulling the chair away. "Last time you pressed an undocumented button in a human spaceship, you emptied the entire septic tank into our garage!"

“Uhm, sorry, instinct…” grunted the portly Globtroq “Never seen such buttons. Don’t know.”

Bert held the chair overhead, turned it around, then put it under the examination lamp and used the sonic scanner on it, looking for clues.

"This doesn't make sense," he snorted in annoyance. "No labels, no cables. What are these buttons for?"

The stubby Globtroq climbed on top of table and peered at the pilot chair. “Dunno… but they hid them well. Must be something very special. You know how humans are. Always doing something incredible stupid in a brilliant way or something brilliant in an incredible stupid way.”

Meanwhile Bert flipped through the printed manual, gasping in frustration. "Crap! This manual is printed in 24 different human languages, and I can't read a single one of them. Globtroq, get me a dictionary."

…ten hours later...

"...and this button controls the windshield wiper speed," Bert finished, tossing the manual annoyed into a corner.

Globtroq, scratching his fluffy behind, asked cluelessly, "Uh, Bert, I dozed off, did they mention anything about those buttons?"

“NOTHING!” squeaked Bert “They fucking wrote NOTHING about buttons under the pilots chair!”

"That's odd," Globtroq shrugged.

“That’s not odd, that’s steaming Nacluv Shit!” a pretty pissed Bert snorted. Then he declared, holding the thick manual in his hand, "I'm going to translate the entire manual until I find out what these buttons are for!"

"That's only the Quick-start Manual," Globtroq dryly stated, lifting a massive box filled with thousands of pages onto the table.

The spindly Ognimalf suddenly grasped the enormity of the task before him, and the vibrant pink in his feathers faded away...

…six days later…

Bert's feathers had turned almost grayish as he studied the endless stack of manuals in front of him. His annoyed brooding was interrupted when Globtroq startled him by entering without knocking. As usual.

"Globtroq, what the... who is that alien?" Bert asked, pointing at a newcomer.

The fatty pointed back at his companion and replied dryly, “I found a human. It is a human pilot chair. A human should know about the buttons. Human, that spindly dude is Bert. Bert is not his real name but I am unable to pronounce his real name. Bert, that is human.”

The human let out an amused chuckle and nodded at the spindly Ognimalf. "Hey there, I'm Max. Well, that's not my full name either, but Globtroq can't wrap his tongue around..."

Max couldn't finish his sentence as Bert interrupted him, exclaiming, "Oh, by the feather gods! A human! I was going bonkers! Look, we've got this pilot chair from a human spaceship, and it has buttons that are nowhere to be found in any documentation. We've been at it for nearly a week, and…"

"Hold on, buddy. I'm just a tourist; I know zilch about piloting a spaceship..." Max explained. However, seeing the color drain from Bert's feathers, he felt a pang of sympathy for the alien avian. "...but hey, I'll take a look and see what I can see, alright?"

Globtroq happily led Max to the chair and showed him the buttons, while Bert looked at the ceiling and wallowed in despair.

“Uhm, I have an assumption” Max stated “can I visit the cockpit for a moment?”

A sulking Bert and an overjoyed Globtroq led him into the small cockpit, where Max promptly opened the glove compartment, retrieved something, asking, “You wouldn’t mind if I take one of these human snacks?”

Bert just continued sulking while Globtroq happily took one of the small snacks offered by Max.

"Tasty," Globtroq remarked.

Max nodded in agreement and returned to the pilot chair “Cherry flavor. A bit past its prime, but still good.”

Bert reluctantly followed, trying to sulk as hard as possible.

And then, to everyone's surprise, Max spat out his snack and pressed it alongside the other buttons under the pilot's chair. It stuck.

“Gentlebeings.” Max announced dramatically, "the individual who sold you this heap of junk was a downright repulsive being. These buttons? They're dried-up globs of chewing gum."

---

The End ---

Not by me, originally on tumblr by multiple people (and an archive.org link to the post in case tumblr pushes a signup). Transcription originally done by u/ElliePlays1 on Reddit.

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Image Transcription: Tumblr [1/2]

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manyblinkinglights

id wreak mayhem for a really good scifi where sight was considered as exotic and numinous as telepathy by the protag species

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roachpatrol

#everybody else uses sonar or long whiskers and that thing with the sensing electrical impuses#meanwhile: humans can 'see' which is a thing which is like and yet unlike ordinary perception#it would also only ever come into play in the same frivolous 'VULCAN STRENGTH' sort of way as Spock's extra attributes#for maximum effort vision would be faithfully written as 100% an asspull in the best way

what the fuck dude this is awesome i want this too now

---

curlicuecal

Okay, but what about those deep sea fish that produce light at a wavelength that *only they can see.* Predators that can somehow sense toy in a completely indectable and unfathomable manner to you; they might as well be psychic.

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manyblinkinglights

YES, EXACTLY-vision is SUCH an asspull?? Sometimes it's "dark"" and we can't see anything.And also we're impired for plot reasons! Sometimes ALIEN WEAPONRY or otherwise-innocuous ship components are ""too bright"" and yet we yell and try to hide, subject to some sor of obscure, tortuous imperative. The rest of the time we can UNERRINGLY tell when anyone is trying to play pranks on us, the names and emotional/physical status of EVERY SINGLE BEING IN THE ROOM (or, when outside civilized warrens, ""line of sight"")- and yes, of course, can't forget about our night-mythical fighting arts revolving around insane dodging skills.

And SNIPING. And also, god, fuck-don't forget about completely arbitrary """"atmospheric disturbances""" (fog, smoke-the new "ionic interference") ALSO plottasactically rendering our abilities moot.

---

glimmerbulb

Plus, some people have some powerful Vision than others, but some people have a very short effective range of Vision. However, humans have come up with devices that "change the angles of refraction" of the "light" so that the naturally impaired have their skills enhances-but they can always be knocked off their faces or be broken.

Also some people are terrible at normal Vision work, but have excellent knight vision and are skilled at working under adverse conditions.

Oooh, and human art is almost entirely Vision based. Think about non-seeing aliens trying to access the majority of human art!

---

manyblinkinglights

IM!!! SCREAMING!!!! GLASSES. Glasses are SUCH another great Weird Alien Gimmick. God-you get all used to your Human friend and their bizarre abilities, you just start to really trust in and rely on them in tight places and problem-solving a little bit, then you get fucken marooned on a fucken planetoid somewhere and they just in this very small little voice, after you have pulled them from the wreckage and sat down to go over your options, inform you that they've lost their glasses.

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roachpatrol

Oh my god and an episode where we’re up against Evil Humans and our heros turn to their humans like ‘you can see them, right, you can tell when they’re near? you can counter them?’ and our hero is genuinely shaken and worried— they’ve got high-tech military mechanical enhancers, the devices strapped to their heads let them see anywhere, they can operate in near-absolute ‘darkness’, they can operate in near-lethal ‘brightness’, they can see through walls— not doors, not glass, but walls.

Then we have a heroic scene where the crew’s human is the scrappy, desperate underdog for once instead of the cool and collected superbeing. It is super cool. The human and the captain probably mack wildly on one another in medbay after this. Roll credits.

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gutterowl

Person 1: I dunno, dude. This ‘light’ stuff sounds like a bunch of mumbo jumbo to me. I mean, how do we know it’s even real?

Person 2: Seriously, how can something be a wave and a particle? That doesn’t even make sense.

Mysterious Human: Even if you cannot perceive the light, you can feel its warmth–

Person 1: Oh my god, please shut it with the mystical hoo-hah. You’re insufferable.

---

roachpatrol

Mysterious, somewhat exasperated Human: the ‘light’ enters the sensitive paired apertures in our faces, passing through biological lenses and chambers to stimulate specific nerves we call ‘rods’ and ‘cones’. one set of nerves tells us the volume of light we’re perceiving, while the other estimates the wavelength frequency. the total input creates in our mind a continuous sonarscape of immense complexity, where we can perceive ‘textures’ that are impossible to understand with mere sound or touch. this is why my people’s communication devices are small, flat, silent boards: we ‘read’ the patterns of light they emit as language and ‘watch’ the patterns of light they emit as sonarscapes.

Captain: okay…. sounds fake, but okay…

---

gutterowl

And they just keep on making up new bullshit rules for how light works, like

Navigator: Warp drive engaged. We are approaching 90% of the Lorentz limit.

Human: What now?

Navigator: Oh, uh, it’s really complex, but lemme try. So, matter can only move so fast through space, right? Like absolutely, nothing can ever ever possibly go faster than like about 3 hundred million meters per second–

Human: Ah yes. The speed of light.

Navigator: …oh for fuck’s sake.

---

roachpatrol

Captain: My god! Time! Has… frozen!

Human: Fuuuuuuuuck.

Captain: What?

Human: Remember how light is a wave and a particle?

Captain: Yes, we mention this every episode.

Human: Yeah, light’s frozen along with everything else. I can’t see shit.

Captain: My god! Our sonar doesn’t work either! The soundwaves— they can’t propagate through this frozen air! We’ll have to use just our whiskers!

Human: Fuuuuuuuuck.

---

gutterowl

The fanfiction for this show has to be amazing.

“Shh. Don’t try to hide your needs, Captain,” Hue Mann soothed. “My sight has told me all about your traumatic memories of the war.”

“What?” Captain gasped. “But…how…?”

“The light knows all,” explained Hue. “Time slows down at the speed of light. It sees all of the past..and all of the future.”

“And what is it telling you now?” questioned the Captain.

Hue leaned in close. “It tells me, ‘Mate with them now, you lovestruck fool!”

“Damn you, Hue Mann. Damn you and your penetrating ‘eyes.’”

“Oh,” breathed Hue, voice husky and sexual. “That’s not all my eyes can…penetrate.”

---

em-kellesvig

goddamn, you people amaze me.

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kowabungadoodles

I love the idea that the protag species has telepathy as ‘boring normal standard’ senses and they can’t understand why human thoughts seems so strange, fragmented, occasionally blank… until they realise that a great of human thought is ‘visual’ and so can’t be heard…

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annlarimer

“Lori, what do your Human eyes see?”

“Coupla billboards, and it looks like it might rain.”

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jacquez45

This keeps getting better

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vassraptor

This is so cute. Your human crewmember is getting a crush on another human. Time to observe the humans’ weird yet endearing courtship rituals.

“Tell me all about them! What do you like about them?”

“Well, they have these amazing eyes…”

“Yeah? Better at the the wavemapping thing than yours?”

“…I don’t know how good their eyes are at seeing. They’re just this beautiful shade of brown.”

“Wait. You wavemap each other’s wavemapping organs? And have opinions about what nice frequencies they refract the waves at?”

“Yes? What’s so strange about this?”

“I thought your ‘vision’ was passive. Do you listen to each other’s ears too? And like the smell of each other’s noses?”

“Like you’ve never touched someone’s whiskers with your whiskers.”

“…That’s different.”

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actuallyasisterofbattle

Hang on though, how do you explain photovoltaics if they don’t know what photons are?

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tharook

That’s a point; any space-faring aliens would (reasonably) have to have a good knowledge of electromagnetism and electromagnetic radiation. (And, potentially wave-particle duality and other quantum physics.) They might even have their own ways of detecting and measuring it (photodiodes, CCDs, radio telescopes, whatever) despite not being able to perceive it themselves just as we developed ways to measure things we can’t detect (like ultrasonics, heat (infrared), radio wavelengths etc.).

So our vision might not necessarily be so mystical as telepathy to us, but more like how some species of fish are sensitive to EM fields as well as sonar mentioned above. But our eyes and brain can do a lot of processing, still, and have an advantage over other ways creatures might perceive their environment. Pertinently to space travel, sight works in a vacuum and (theoretically) infinite distance. Instead of a sophisticated EM sensor array, fleets could simply install a human and a window.

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darael

There’s potentially quite an interesting plot there where our nonhuman protagonists are entirely familiar with electromagnetism in the abstract, in the same way that humans are familiar with magnetism despite not having (much) direct sensitivity to it, but it takes them a while to work out that it’s how we do that weird “seeing” thing we keep talking about,and even longer to get the hang of what frequency range we use to do it.

And they might still be baffled by optic lenses.

---

n1ghtcrwler

But think about the discovery of humans.

You have this space-faring race kicking around, doing their thing, discovering new worlds and civilizations. They have all this advanced technology to hide themselves from all known senses so they can enter into the lower atmosphere of a planet and observe for a bit, cloaked from being noticed until they’ve decided whether or not the new race is ready to be introduced to galactic society.

And they show up at this blue world way out on the edges of civilized space, and detect life, and drop into the atmosphere fully cloaked and ready to research, and suddenly a scientist sends out a distress message to the rest if the crew:

Millions of Earthlings have immediately begun observing *them*.

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roach-works

i still love this thread and i want to further suggest: what if all those UFOs everyone’s been seeing all this time are just merrily zipping around under the assumption that we can’t fucking perceive them at all, because their saucer-shaped cloaking field hides them from just about every kind of sonar or radar or emp device.

and sure, maybe if some of us humans had a really, really complicated photon measuring machine and pointed it at just the right spot, we might be able to get a reading that light is behaving a little bit strangely, very briefly, in one tiny part of the sky (where most light comes from!) but those things are the size of a suitcase, so obviously we don’t have them.

except also those things are the size of grapes and we have two of them built into our skulls.

(This is my first attempt at writing HFY, I hope you guys enjoy it)

The k'tarr representative raised their voice over the hum of chattering dignitaries "Attention every, may I have your attention please! I understand we are all concerned but if we are to find a solution we must have order."
As the chattering of dignitaries subsided they continued "As you all know we are gathered here today to discuss the ongoing attack by hostile species fourteen..."
"What do we even know about species fourteen?"
"Would the tyrl representative please allow me to finish before speaking. It is indeed true that we know almost nothing of species fourteen itself, other than that which we have been able to discern from the construction of the catalyst weapons used against our worlds."
Catalyst weapons; the words sent a murmur through the arrayed representatives while the photocommunicators flashed with alarmed reds and sorrowful blues. Seated at the head of the assembly, the races of the afflicted worlds reacted with mixed stowicism, anger, and deep saddness.
Struggling to maintain composure the k'tarr representative continued "I will now scede the floor to the honorable prince sheltaf of the mycorian republic who may be able to grant us further insight on the nature of species fourteen."

Hobbling and assisted by a ceremonial bodyguard, sheltaf radix, third prince of the mycorian republic, ascended to the podium soft lines of pained yellow flashing along his side with each step. "I'm sure none of you here today know me, as a mere third prince my role in political affairs was minor. I do believe however that all of you knew my older sister the honorable diplomat rhelsha; it is my deepest regret to bring you news of her death, as well as that of the second and fourth princes, and my parents."
Solemnity at once took the crowd as the last whispers and feint flashes died away.
"As the eldest surviving member of the radix family it is my responsibility to take on her role as representative to the council, and to tell you how she died."

"As many of you know our capital world was the first hit by the catalyst, though the exact events are murky and reconstruction is ongoing I believe we are now able to provide the council with an aproximate series of events."
Behind him the council chambers screen lit up to display a diagram of a long elipsoid object reminiscent of a torpedo. "On the date of approximately 14/09/2358 [translated for readability] standard galactic time this object is believed to have been picked up by sensors entering the secure space around the capital world shala. At the time the object was dismissed as debris and recieved no further attention beyond the standard logging of such objects."

The screen changed to display a real image of the same object, this time inside a biohazard containment chamber and bearing dents and scorching from re-entry.
"It was not until the object subtly shifted orbit at the last minute and entered into a re-entry trajectory that the alarm was rasied, unfortunately for all of us it was already too late. Immediately preceeding and for some time post impact the object began dispersing a cocktail of various previously unknown micro-organisms, fungal spores, and seeds; the first response team on site had their respiratory systems completely overwhelmed within minutes."
The screen changed once more, revealing an image of shala from low orbit, Even from orbit a pale green scar could be seen originating from the impact point, overtaking the pastel blue of the worlds native flora. "Before we knew what was heppening the foreign organism began overtaking our natural environment at an alarming rate, our forrests were broken down into slurry by alien bacteria, the air became choked with deadly spores and the most unfortunate were directly parisatized and consumed by aggressive flora; my sister..."

As the last prince of shala lapsed into silence representative k'tarr resumed the podium and glanced at the head of the assembly. "I'm sure many of you have similar stories to share, at present twenty one worlds have been overrun by the catalyst bioweapon and trillions have died."
There was a commotion among the assembled delegates as the lanian representative broke down and had to be removed from the assembly.
"Thanks to the bravery and sacrifice of mycorian scientists, and many others from all over the union we do now have at least some information about species fourteen. Reverse engineering of the catalyst weapons themselves suggests their spaceflight is surprisingly crude as each one utilizes only the most basic and inneficient of blink drives, analysis of the alloys used suggests they were manufactured under a lower gravity than is standard for habitable worlds. Finally sequenceing of the genomes of some of the bioweapon strains shows they share a common base, though we cannot expect species fourteens natural ecology to be remotely similar to that of their bioweapons our scientists believe we can still uncover valuble information about their metabolisms and the likely atmospheric composition of their homeworld."

The council chamber erupted in speculation as delegates considered the potential implications of such information and argued about how it should be used. As the chatter grew into a roar the delegate k'tarr once again had to raise their voice. "I'm sure you all have questions, even demands; before then I have one simple proposition. Scientsits from the mycorian republic working with the countil believe they have pinpointed the aproximate location of species fourteens homeworld. My government proposes a resolution to launch a covert expedition to this world in order to gather more information about our enemy in advance of a counterattack. If there are no objections to this proposal would the esteemed representatives please now cast their votes.

Originally made by swanjolras on tumblr, however that tumblr deactivated or renamed itself. Currently-working tumblr link (it's a reblog) and a Reddit screenshot

---

gosh but like we spent hundreds of years looking up at the stars and wondering “is there anybody out there” and hoping and guessing and imagining

because we as a species were so lonely and we wanted friends so bad, we wanted to meet other species and we wanted to talk to them and we wanted to learn from them and to stop being the only people in the universe

and we started realizing that things were maybe not going so good for us— we got scared that we were going to blow each other up, we got scared that we were going to break our planet permanently, we got scared that in a hundred years we were all going to be dead and gone and even if there were other people out there, we’d never get to meet them

and then

we built robots?

and we gave them names and we gave them brains made out of silicon and we pretended they were people and we told them hey you wanna go exploring, and of course they did, because we had made them in our own image

and maybe in a hundred years we won’t be around any more, maybe yeah the planet will be a mess and we’ll all be dead, and if other people come from the stars we won’t be around to meet them and say hi! how are you! we’re people, too! you’re not alone any more!, maybe we’ll be gone

but we built robots, who have beat-up hulls and metal brains, and who have names; and if the other people come and say, who were these people? what were they like?

the robots can say, when they made us, they called us discovery; they called us curiosity; they called us explorer; they called us spirit. they must have thought that was important.

and they told us to tell you hello.

Originally written by injuries-in-dust on tumblr (non-tumblr link in case tumblr pushes you to make an account), not by me.

---

“Boredom is a dangerous thing to a human.”

“I don’t understand,” Chuul’s mandibles clicked nervously, “why not simply take the tool from the human.”

Minxx’s antennae stood straight up, a sign of shock, fear, or surprise, “You don’t simply take something from a human. If you do they will either turn the ship upside down trying to find it again, or they will replace it with something else that will lead to more destruction.

“I speak quite literally by the way. Human-Mark used to have a tool he called an “Hex Key” he used it to remove the doors to the clothing storage areas in his quarters because he was bored. When he lost it he literally turned the ship upside down by reversing the gravity.”

Chuul’s tentacles curled up defensively, “Gravity controls are locked, how-”

“No one knows how.” Minxx shook her small wings as the memory of suddenly falling upwards returned to her. “but his reasoning was that the tool would fall out of whatever hiding place it had come to rest within. He had not considered that all tables, chairs, equipment, and personnel, would also fall. It took weeks to clean.”

To be fair to the human, Mark had only intended to reverse the gravity in his own quarters but had, quote, “pushed the wrong button.” A sentence which would send fear through any intelligent creature in the known galaxy. To be completely unfair to the human, there were still stains on the ceiling in almost every room of the ship from dropped food, chemicals, various other liquids, and even a couple of empty bowels. Some races just didn’t find the idea of resting comfortably in their sleeping quarters, only to be suddenly awakened as they fell ten feet toward a ceiling which had now become a floor. Mark was no longer allowed near environmental controls.

Minxx continued, “He did not find this “Hex Key.” However, he did find the screwdriver and it seemed to please him when an owner was not located. The captain let him keep it since it seemed that it would keep him from doing any more strange things to locate his original lost tool. We did not consider-” she trailed off as her wings quivered again.

There was silence between them for a few moments, Minxx was almost unwilling to continue and Chuul was almost too afraid to press for more details. Slowly, but surely, Minxx calmed herself enough to speak again. “we did not consider what he may be able to do when armed with a leverage optimiser.”

“We were given shore leave while the ship was being fixed after the gravity incident. Thank goodness the captain took out act’s-of-human insurance or it would have cost the profits from our next five cargo hauls.” The premiums were high, but it was worth it. “After 14 rotations, human-Mark began to complain over the lack of stimulation, he called it “bored.” On the 15th rotation he disappeared for some time and he had hoped he had found some new activity to occupy his time.”

Chuul did, but at the same time didn’t, want to know, “Had he?”

Minxx waved her antennae in confirmation, “he had. He was located in one of the cargo holds, using the screwdriver to dismantle one of the mining probes. To, quote “see how it worked.” It was almost 90% deconstructed.”

Mark had claimed it was almost 10% REconstructed, as he was trying to put it back together again, but couldn't quite remember where all the parts went. In Mark’s words, the captain was a “glass half-empty kinda guy” (whatever that meant) and wrote DEconstructed on the claim form for a replacement probe.

Chuul’s natural camouflage kicked in and they took on the colour of the chair they were sitting on. “Those probes have no screws for the leverage optimiser to use, how did he-”

Minxx’s wings shivered again, “no one knows how. He just did.”

Chuul was silent for a moment. He’d never served on a ship with a human before. He’d heard they made things “interesting” and if you ever got into trouble, a human was the very best thing to ever have on your side. It was why they were so many job opportunities for humans in the alliance. All the same...the thought of a human causing such damage and destruction just because of a lack of mental, or physical, stimulation was a more than a little frightening. What if the human wanted to see how the engines worked, or the weapons?!! “Maybe I should transfer to another ship.”

Minxx’s antennae curled, a smile to her race. “You are safe. The captain has found a way to occupy our humans free time. During our last stopover, he commissioned a shiny orb be constructed.”

Chuul coked their head, “what is a shiny orb?”

Minxx’s curled antennae moved up an down; a sign of mild laughter. “It is nothing. A sphere made of shiny metals, humans do like shiny things, roughly two feet diameter made of a collection of gears, levers, screws and switches which appear complex and should have a function, but do entirely nothing. The captain handed it to Human-Mark and stated: “see if you can fix this.” and Mark has been “tinkering” with it during his off-duty hours for almost 24 rotations now. He can take it apart and rebuild it as many times as he likes, but it will never perform any task.”

Chuul was just thinking about how their captain must be a genius, when the door to the mess hall opened and Human-Mark entered. He was carrying the shiny orb under one arm, and his screwdriver in the other hand. He looked around, seemingly not noticing any of the crew members. He smiled when he spotted an empty liquid container and sat down at the table with the cup.

Chuul and Minxx watched curiously as Mark set the orb on the table in front of the cup. He used the screwdriver to tighten one small screw and flipped a switch. At once there was a whirring and clicking of clockwork, a blinking of lights hidden in the depths of the machine and even a TING from a small bell. Then a small funnel-shaped piece of metal opened up in the side of the machine and poured a small amount of hot, black, liquid into the cup.

Mark jumped to his feet, pumping the air and yelling loudly enough to send Chuul’s camouflage reflex off again. He grabbed the orb, abandoning the cup of steaming hot liquid, and moved to the door.

Minxx stared after them, “Human-Mark?”

Mark only paused for a second in the doorway. He was prominently displaying his predatory teeth. Chuul had read about these “smiles” but it was still disturbing to see. “Can’t stop Minxy. I gotta let the captain know I fixed his coffee maker.”

With that, he left. Leaving Chuul and Minxx frozen in place, dumbfounded.

Wherever Chuul was going to transfer to, Minxx began to hope she could get a posting on the same ship.

The Survivors

“How did your people survive your first contact with the humans?” Slaver Lord Abrax catches up with Guild Master Felbin right after the official part of the conference was over.

“Hm?” the fat albino wombat wonders while munching fried roaches, looking puzzled into the face of the mighty reptilian warrior. “What do you mean? Survive?”

“You said you made first contact recently with the humans, didn’t you?”

“Oh yes. Weird people. Crossed into an exclusive trade zone inside our border, nibbled at some asteroids without asking. I send a scout ships, delivered an angry message to them. They were all ‘Oh, did we something wrong? You claim these? We need fuel, can we make a deal?’”

Felbin shovels another hand full of roasted bugs into his mouth, munching happily.

“So they were in a weak position? And you did press your advantage?”

Between munching the wombat mumbles “Oh No. Their fleet was quite impressive. Two medium support carriers, around a dozen smaller escort ships, two dozen industrial ships. A lot more than we had at hand at that moment. We were quite surprised when they offered compensation for trespassing our territory and a pretty fair deal on keeping the resources. And they immediately entered trade talks with us.”

“Stop bullshitting me old usurer!” the reptilian growls “How in the world did you force the humans into submission? When we learned of the humans we send a slaver fleet to their world, numbering hundreds of mighty warships, demanding 0,2% of their population per year as tribute. A very fair deal as you will agree!”

The wombat did the equivalent of shrugging his shoulders “Well if you say so. How did it end?”

“It ended terrible for them! We killed millions of them by our penal operation when they rejected our generous offer!”

“Well, that is partially true but not the whole story.” Princess Shem, her large belly swollen by hundreds of eggs interrupts the discussion. Outranked, the Slaver Lord hissed in annoyance and fell silent.

“They fought your fleet back with monstrous weapons, vaporising your mighty flagship with a single one of their ungodly ‘Nukes’, even ships dozens of miles away had their outer hulls molten by this single attack. After less than an hour your fleet had scattered. The biggest damage your fleet did was raining debris on their world, killing a couple of million unprepared civilians.”

“How do you know…” the Slaver Lord gasps “Not a single Slaver made it back alive!”

The princess bows down her antennas in shame “Because my father, the rightful ruler of my people, is currently prisoner of war in the hands of the humans. He watched your foolish posturing on television in his prison cell and was allowed to report the incident back to his home world as a deterrent against future aggression.”

“Your people surrendered to the humans? How pitiful!” laughs the Slaver Lord.

“Surrendered? No, we were simply overrun. And we most likely only got off easy because the humans decided you were a bigger threat.”

The wombat looks at the princess in surprise “Oh, your people went at war with the humans too? But why?”

“Territorial dispute. They settled a barren world in a remote system, we had a claim on it for centuries. In return we annexed one of their border colonies, arrested their officials and put them on trial.”

Master Felbin put his empty bowl aside and reached for the wine. “Oh. I guess they send you an angry letter, did they?”

“The letter was lacking all rules of court.” boasted the princess with her antennae twitching angrily “It made demands were praise was required and disputed the obvious. It was literally an insult. Can you imagine? They demanded ‘a diplomatic talk’ and ‘compensation’.”

While grooming his fur Master Felbin dryly stated “Well, I know myself human diplomats and lawyers are a very special pest. The trade agreement we worked out with them is literally an epic in itself, surpassing absolutely any work of literature of my people in length and complexity. The chapter on the shape of bananas alone is over 1400 pages long. Thanks but no thanks."

Felbin licked some wine before continuing "So you found their diplomats lacking and tried if their warriors were more amicable and found them lacking too?”

The princess grumbles ashamed “We never met their warriors. They send a police assault unit and subdued our occupation force while we were hibernating…”

Slave Lord Abrax laughed aloud “Oh yes, we also found out the hard way that humans do not hibernate like most others do. In fact they only need a light sleep to recover and not much of it anyway. Also they can go for days without sleep. Freck. To keep up with them we needed to outnumber them 10 to one, taking turns in sleeping 18 hours and fighting one hour. And then they still manage to outdo us most of the time.”

Guild Master Felbin stopped licking at his expensive gobble of wine. “Aha, so you were pretty lucky when they offered you a somewhat fair peace deal?”

“Ending slavery was not a ‘somewhat fair peace deal’” Abrax railed “Our whole society was based on exploitation of the weak and now even high warriors have to clean their houses themselves and pay for mere services like food preparation. This is utterly unacceptable!”

“Oh dear, how pitiful you look.” Felbin giggled “And still both of you can be happy you survived your first contact with the humans almost intact.”

“Like there is any bigger disgrace than having ones father being prisoner of war.” Princess Shem grumbled.

“Or having to change your entire way of living.” Slaver Lord Abrax muttered.

“Yes, I think I am the lucky one of us three” smirked Felbin “although I have regular nightmares about human paper work recently. But trust me, compared to the devourers, we all got off easy.”

“The Devourers?” Abrax laughed “They are a myth. Parents tell their children about the Devourers when they don’t behave and need a good scare.” and with a mocking tone he continued “Head your parents words or the Devourers eat you!”

Even Princess Shem proclaimed with fervour: "As if nature would even allow such horrors! Beasts the size of a house, attacking entire worlds in apocalyptic numbers and devouring everything in their path."

“Oh, nonono. Devourers are not a myth.” the guild master explained “Yes, they haven’t swarmed in two centuries but my people still remember them from the old times when they crushed even the best defended worlds into dust during their reproduction cycle.”

Looking for something, Felbin continued “Actually, have you seen the Human Ambassador? Or, to be more precise, his young daughter?”

Shem turned her antennae towards the girl on the other side of the conference room: “She doesn't look anything special. For a human.”

“Nonono, also not the daughter. Her pet. The six legged creature sitting on her shoulder?”

Abrax and Shem looked puzzled at Guildmaster Felbin, then at the creature on the young girl's shoulder. The creature purred and played with the scraps of food the daughter offered to it.

“That is what is left of the devourers after the humans have tamed them.”

Found the first chapter of this on r/HFY and was entertained, saw it got posted offsite, thought I might share here. Warning for Wattpad.

Summary:

Humanity emerges from the aftermath of the technological singularity having conquered scarcity, disease, poverty, aging, death, and, or so they thought, even war. With the aid of artificial intelligence and uplifted animals they have founded a virtual Utopia among the stars where people work only for personal development, satisfaction, or selflessly for the benefit of others.

An attempt to help another space-faring species has unexpected consequences that threatens to engulf a whole region of space, and the Human Consensus is forced to intervene. When the small conflict grows into an existential threat to their entire civilization, humanity is forced for the first time to ask the question: can Utopia survive total war?

I was reading a TTRPG article and some of the things it said just made me think of a lot of HFY stories and with why nonhuman species/races are often written the way they are here, and how they are juxtaposed with humans to get a HFY effect. It might be stuff I might have known in the back of my head, but it feels different to have it actually written out by someone else.

In a section about always-good and always-evil fantasy races…

All of which, by the by, highlights a very important thing about humans. Humans are uniquely and distinctly not always anything. They can rise and fall like no other race. And that makes them special and powerful and dangerous.

About fantasy races being more of a monoculture than having individuals…

I know it’s a big part of why fantastic worlds feel fantastic. If every member of every race is a unique and distinct individual, then everyone’s just people. Some people are green and some have funny ears and some get to reroll the d20 whenever it shows a 1, but they’re all just people. And thus there’s nothing wonderful or special or magical or terrible or frightening about anything that isn’t human.

Sorry, your elf isn’t special if he’s a unique individual. He’s just like everyone else.

This got a nice little subsection to itself:

Do you know why always evil humanoids are great fodder for stories? It’s because they show what happens when, on a societal level, humans don’t rise above their base instincts. They represent humans who failed to create social orders that curb their impulses toward evil. Orcs are humans whose societies are governed by anger, bitterness, and hatred. Hobgoblins are humans whose societies are all about military conquest and enslavement. Goblins are humans whose societies reward the greedy, the grasping, the cowardly, and the lazy. It’s nice to be able to explore this shit without having to use stripped-down caricatures of historical societies that require more nuance to understand than what a story or game can handle.

I’d also like to point out that even the good non-humans aren’t exactly aspirational in traditional fantasy. Take Tolkien’s elves or his ents for example. They were kind of crap. They did nothing, accomplished nothing, and changed nothing until spurred on by the normal, everyday, human people whom Frodo and Sam and Merry and Pippin — and to a lesser extent Aragorn — represented.

Because humans are awesome when they make themselves awesome. When they don’t, though, they’re just the worst.

And then…

Remember that all this shit’s really just to show how amazing the human capacity for self-determination really is. We don’t appreciate that because, well, we’re surrounded by humans in the real world. That’s why we need fantasy worlds to show us all sorts of creatures that lack the traits we humans take for granted.

Originally posted on r/HFY, also crossposted to the Royal Road. Features us healing aliens :)

Not my work but a very early and really moving example of HFY.

Copyright has run out so it is basically free. I suggest to read the linked version as it contains illustrations and legal mumbo jumbo:

A Pail of Air

The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Pail of Air

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: A Pail of Air

Author: Fritz Leiber

Illustrator: Ed Emshwiller

Release date: March 15, 2016 [eBook #51461]

Language: English

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PAIL OF AIR ***

Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

                         A Pail of Air

                        By FRITZ LEIBER

                  Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER

       [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
             Galaxy Science Fiction December 1951.
     Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
     the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]




            The dark star passed, bringing with it
            eternal night and turning history into
            incredible myth in a single generation!

Pa had sent me out to get an extra pail of air. I'd just about scooped it full and most of the warmth had leaked from my fingers when I saw the thing.

You know, at first I thought it was a young lady. Yes, a beautiful young lady's face all glowing in the dark and looking at me from the fifth floor of the opposite apartment, which hereabouts is the floor just above the white blanket of frozen air. I'd never seen a live young lady before, except in the old magazines--Sis is just a kid and Ma is pretty sick and miserable--and it gave me such a start that I dropped the pail. Who wouldn't, knowing everyone on Earth was dead except Pa and Ma and Sis and you?

Even at that, I don't suppose I should have been surprised. We all see things now and then. Ma has some pretty bad ones, to judge from the way she bugs her eyes at nothing and just screams and screams and huddles back against the blankets hanging around the Nest. Pa says it is natural we should react like that sometimes.

When I'd recovered the pail and could look again at the opposite apartment, I got an idea of what Ma might be feeling at those times, for I saw it wasn't a young lady at all but simply a light--a tiny light that moved stealthily from window to window, just as if one of the cruel little stars had come down out of the airless sky to investigate why the Earth had gone away from the Sun, and maybe to hunt down something to torment or terrify, now that the Earth didn't have the Sun's protection.

I tell you, the thought of it gave me the creeps. I just stood there shaking, and almost froze my feet and did frost my helmet so solid on the inside that I couldn't have seen the light even if it had come out of one of the windows to get me. Then I had the wit to go back inside.

Pretty soon I was feeling my familiar way through the thirty or so blankets and rugs Pa has got hung around to slow down the escape of air from the Nest, and I wasn't quite so scared. I began to hear the tick-ticking of the clocks in the Nest and knew I was getting back into air, because there's no sound outside in the vacuum, of course. But my mind was still crawly and uneasy as I pushed through the last blankets--Pa's got them faced with aluminum foil to hold in the heat--and came into the Nest.

   *       *       *       *       *

Let me tell you about the Nest. It's low and snug, just room for the four of us and our things. The floor is covered with thick woolly rugs. Three of the sides are blankets, and the blankets roofing it touch Pa's head. He tells me it's inside a much bigger room, but I've never seen the real walls or ceiling.

Against one of the blanket-walls is a big set of shelves, with tools and books and other stuff, and on top of it a whole row of clocks. Pa's very fussy about keeping them wound. He says we must never forget time, and without a sun or moon, that would be easy to do.

The fourth wall has blankets all over except around the fireplace, in which there is a fire that must never go out. It keeps us from freezing and does a lot more besides. One of us must always watch it. Some of the clocks are alarm and we can use them to remind us. In the early days there was only Ma to take turns with Pa--I think of that when she gets difficult--but now there's me to help, and Sis too.

It's Pa who is the chief guardian of the fire, though. I always think of him that way: a tall man sitting cross-legged, frowning anxiously at the fire, his lined face golden in its light, and every so often carefully placing on it a piece of coal from the big heap beside it. Pa tells me there used to be guardians of the fire sometimes in the very old days--vestal virgins, he calls them--although there was unfrozen air all around then and you didn't really need one.

He was sitting just that way now, though he got up quick to take the pail from me and bawl me out for loitering--he'd spotted my frozen helmet right off. That roused Ma and she joined in picking on me. She's always trying to get the load off her feelings, Pa explains. He shut her up pretty fast. Sis let off a couple of silly squeals too.

Pa handled the pail of air in a twist of cloth. Now that it was inside the Nest, you could really feel its coldness. It just seemed to suck the heat out of everything. Even the flames cringed away from it as Pa put it down close by the fire.

Yet it's that glimmery white stuff in the pail that keeps us alive. It slowly melts and vanishes and refreshes the Nest and feeds the fire. The blankets keep it from escaping too fast. Pa'd like to seal the whole place, but he can't--building's too earthquake-twisted, and besides he has to leave the chimney open for smoke.

Pa says air is tiny molecules that fly away like a flash if there isn't something to stop them. We have to watch sharp not to let the air run low. Pa always keeps a big reserve supply of it in buckets behind the first blankets, along with extra coal and cans of food and other things, such as pails of snow to melt for water. We have to go way down to the bottom floor for that stuff, which is a mean trip, and get it through a door to outside.

You see, when the Earth got cold, all the water in the air froze first and made a blanket ten feet thick or so everywhere, and then down on top of that dropped the crystals of frozen air, making another white blanket sixty or seventy feet thick maybe.

Of course, all the parts of the air didn't freeze and snow down at the same time.

First to drop out was the carbon dioxide--when you're shoveling for water, you have to make sure you don't go too high and get any of that stuff mixed in, for it would put you to sleep, maybe for good, and make the fire go out. Next there's the nitrogen, which doesn't count one way or the other, though it's the biggest part of the blanket. On top of that and easy to get at, which is lucky for us, there's the oxygen that keeps us alive. Pa says we live better than kings ever did, breathing pure oxygen, but we're used to it and don't notice. Finally, at the very top, there's a slick of liquid helium, which is funny stuff. All of these gases in neat separate layers. Like a pussy caffay, Pa laughingly says, whatever that is.

   *       *       *       *       *

I was busting to tell them all about what I'd seen, and so as soon as I'd ducked out of my helmet and while I was still climbing out of my suit, I cut loose. Right away Ma got nervous and began making eyes at the entry-slit in the blankets and wringing her hands together--the hand where she'd lost three fingers from frostbite inside the good one, as usual. I could tell that Pa was annoyed at me scaring her and wanted to explain it all away quickly, yet could see I wasn't fooling.

"And you watched this light for some time, son?" he asked when I finished.

I hadn't said anything about first thinking it was a young lady's face. Somehow that part embarrassed me.

"Long enough for it to pass five windows and go to the next floor."

"And it didn't look like stray electricity or crawling liquid or starlight focused by a growing crystal, or anything like that?"

He wasn't just making up those ideas. Odd things happen in a world that's about as cold as can be, and just when you think matter would be frozen dead, it takes on a strange new life. A slimy stuff comes crawling toward the Nest, just like an animal snuffing for heat--that's the liquid helium. And once, when I was little, a bolt of lightning--not even Pa could figure where it came from--hit the nearby steeple and crawled up and down it for weeks, until the glow finally died.

"Not like anything I ever saw," I told him.

He stood for a moment frowning. Then, "I'll go out with you, and you show it to me," he said.

Ma raised a howl at the idea of being left alone, and Sis joined in, too, but Pa quieted them. We started climbing into our outside clothes--mine had been warming by the fire. Pa made them. They have plastic headpieces that were once big double-duty transparent food cans, but they keep heat and air in and can replace the air for a little while, long enough for our trips for water and coal and food and so on.

Ma started moaning again, "I've always known there was something outside there, waiting to get us. I've felt it for years--something that's part of the cold and hates all warmth and wants to destroy the Nest. It's been watching us all this time, and now it's coming after us. It'll get you and then come for me. Don't go, Harry!"

Pa had everything on but his helmet. He knelt by the fireplace and reached in and shook the long metal rod that goes up the chimney and knocks off the ice that keeps trying to clog it. Once a week he goes up on the roof to check if it's working all right. That's our worst trip and Pa won't let me make it alone.

"Sis," Pa said quietly, "come watch the fire. Keep an eye on the air, too. If it gets low or doesn't seem to be boiling fast enough, fetch another bucket from behind the blanket. But mind your hands. Use the cloth to pick up the bucket."

Sis quit helping Ma be frightened and came over and did as she was told. Ma quieted down pretty suddenly, though her eyes were still kind of wild as she watched Pa fix on his helmet tight and pick up a pail and the two of us go out.

   *       *       *       *       *

Pa led the way and I took hold of his belt. It's a funny thing, I'm not afraid to go by myself, but when Pa's along I always want to hold on to him. Habit, I guess, and then there's no denying that this time I was a bit scared.

You see, it's this way. We know that everything is dead out there. Pa heard the last radio voices fade away years ago, and had seen some of the last folks die who weren't as lucky or well-protected as us. So we knew that if there was something groping around out there, it couldn't be anything human or friendly.

Besides that, there's a feeling that comes with it always being night, cold night. Pa says there used to be some of that feeling even in the old days, but then every morning the Sun would come and chase it away. I have to take his word for that, not ever remembering the Sun as being anything more than a big star. You see, I hadn't been born when the dark star snatched us away from the Sun, and by now it's dragged us out beyond the orbit of the planet Pluto, Pa says, and taking us farther out all the time.

I found myself wondering whether there mightn't be something on the dark star that wanted us, and if that was why it had captured the Earth. Just then we came to the end of the corridor and I followed Pa out on the balcony.

I don't know what the city looked like in the old days, but now it's beautiful. The starlight lets you see it pretty well--there's quite a bit of light in those steady points speckling the blackness above. (Pa says the stars used to twinkle once, but that was because there was air.) We are on a hill and the shimmery plain drops away from us and then flattens out, cut up into neat squares by the troughs that used to be streets. I sometimes make my mashed potatoes look like it, before I pour on the gravy.

Some taller buildings push up out of the feathery plain, topped by rounded caps of air crystals, like the fur hood Ma wears, only whiter. On those buildings you can see the darker squares of windows, underlined by white dashes of air crystals. Some of them are on a slant, for many of the buildings are pretty badly twisted by the quakes and all the rest that happened when the dark star captured the Earth.

Here and there a few icicles hang, water icicles from the first days of the cold, other icicles of frozen air that melted on the roofs and dripped and froze again. Sometimes one of those icicles will catch the light of a star and send it to you so brightly you think the star has swooped into the city. That was one of the things Pa had been thinking of when I told him about the light, but I had thought of it myself first and known it wasn't so.

He touched his helmet to mine so we could talk easier and he asked me to point out the windows to him. But there wasn't any light moving around inside them now, or anywhere else. To my surprise, Pa didn't bawl me out and tell me I'd been seeing things. He looked all around quite a while after filling his pail, and just as we were going inside he whipped around without warning, as if to take some peeping thing off guard.

I could feel it, too. The old peace was gone. There was something lurking out there, watching, waiting, getting ready.

Inside, he said to me, touching helmets, "If you see something like that again, son, don't tell the others. Your Ma's sort of nervous these days and we owe her all the feeling of safety we can give her. Once--it was when your sister was born--I was ready to give up and die, but your Mother kept me trying. Another time she kept the fire going a whole week all by herself when I was sick. Nursed me and took care of the two of you, too."

   *       *       *       *       *

"You know that game we sometimes play, sitting in a square in the Nest, tossing a ball around? Courage is like a ball, son. A person can hold it only so long, and then he's got to toss it to someone else. When it's tossed your way, you've got to catch it and hold it tight--and hope there'll be someone else to toss it to when you get tired of being brave."

His talking to me that way made me feel grown-up and good. But it didn't wipe away the thing outside from the back of my mind--or the fact that Pa took it seriously.

   *       *       *       *       *

It's hard to hide your feelings about such a thing. When we got back in the Nest and took off our outside clothes, Pa laughed about it all and told them it was nothing and kidded me for having such an imagination, but his words fell flat. He didn't convince Ma and Sis any more than he did me. It looked for a minute like we were all fumbling the courage-ball. Something had to be done, and almost before I knew what I was going to say, I heard myself asking Pa to tell us about the old days, and how it all happened.

He sometimes doesn't mind telling that story, and Sis and I sure like to listen to it, and he got my idea. So we were all settled around the fire in a wink, and Ma pushed up some cans to thaw for supper, and Pa began. Before he did, though, I noticed him casually get a hammer from the shelf and lay it down beside him.

It was the same old story as always--I think I could recite the main thread of it in my sleep--though Pa always puts in a new detail or two and keeps improving it in spots.

He told us how the Earth had been swinging around the Sun ever so steady and warm, and the people on it fixing to make money and wars and have a good time and get power and treat each other right or wrong, when without warning there comes charging out of space this dead star, this burned out sun, and upsets everything.

You know, I find it hard to believe in the way those people felt, any more than I can believe in the swarming number of them. Imagine people getting ready for the horrible sort of war they were cooking up. Wanting it even, or at least wishing it were over so as to end their nervousness. As if all folks didn't have to hang together and pool every bit of warmth just to keep alive. And how can they have hoped to end danger, any more than we can hope to end the cold?

Sometimes I think Pa exaggerates and makes things out too black. He's cross with us once in a while and was probably cross with all those folks. Still, some of the things I read in the old magazines sound pretty wild. He may be right.

   *       *       *       *       *

The dark star, as Pa went on telling it, rushed in pretty fast and there wasn't much time to get ready. At the beginning they tried to keep it a secret from most people, but then the truth came out, what with the earthquakes and floods--imagine, oceans of unfrozen water!--and people seeing stars blotted out by something on a clear night. First off they thought it would hit the Sun, and then they thought it would hit the Earth. There was even the start of a rush to get to a place called China, because people thought the star would hit on the other side. But then they found it wasn't going to hit either side, but was going to come very close to the Earth.

Most of the other planets were on the other side of the Sun and didn't get involved. The Sun and the newcomer fought over the Earth for a little while--pulling it this way and that, like two dogs growling over a bone, Pa described it this time--and then the newcomer won and carried us off. The Sun got a consolation prize, though. At the last minute he managed to hold on to the Moon.

That was the time of the monster earthquakes and floods, twenty times worse than anything before. It was also the time of the Big Jerk, as Pa calls it, when all Earth got yanked suddenly, just as Pa has done to me once or twice, grabbing me by the collar to do it, when I've been sitting too far from the fire.

You see, the dark star was going through space faster than the Sun, and in the opposite direction, and it had to wrench the world considerably in order to take it away.

The Big Jerk didn't last long. It was over as soon as the Earth was settled down in its new orbit around the dark star. But it was pretty terrible while it lasted. Pa says that all sorts of cliffs and buildings toppled, oceans slopped over, swamps and sandy deserts gave great sliding surges that buried nearby lands. Earth was almost jerked out of its atmosphere blanket and the air got so thin in spots that people keeled over and fainted--though of course, at the same time, they were getting knocked down by the Big Jerk and maybe their bones broke or skulls cracked.

We've often asked Pa how people acted during that time, whether they were scared or brave or crazy or stunned, or all four, but he's sort of leery of the subject, and he was again tonight. He says he was mostly too busy to notice.

You see, Pa and some scientist friends of his had figured out part of what was going to happen--they'd known we'd get captured and our air would freeze--and they'd been working like mad to fix up a place with airtight walls and doors, and insulation against the cold, and big supplies of food and fuel and water and bottled air. But the place got smashed in the last earthquakes and all Pa's friends were killed then and in the Big Jerk. So he had to start over and throw the Nest together quick without any advantages, just using any stuff he could lay his hands on.

I guess he's telling pretty much the truth when he says he didn't have any time to keep an eye on how other folks behaved, either then or in the Big Freeze that followed--followed very quick, you know, both because the dark star was pulling us away very fast and because Earth's rotation had been slowed in the tug-of-war, so that the nights were ten old nights long.

Still, I've got an idea of some of the things that happened from the frozen folk I've seen, a few of them in other rooms in our building, others clustered around the furnaces in the basements where we go for coal.

In one of the rooms, an old man sits stiff in a chair, with an arm and a leg in splints. In another, a man and woman are huddled together in a bed with heaps of covers over them. You can just see their heads peeking out, close together. And in another a beautiful young lady is sitting with a pile of wraps huddled around her, looking hopefully toward the door, as if waiting for someone who never came back with warmth and food. They're all still and stiff as statues, of course, but just like life.

Pa showed them to me once in quick winks of his flashlight, when he still had a fair supply of batteries and could afford to waste a little light. They scared me pretty bad and made my heart pound, especially the young lady.

   *       *       *       *       *

Now, with Pa telling his story for the umpteenth time to take our minds off another scare, I got to thinking of the frozen folk again. All of a sudden I got an idea that scared me worse than anything yet. You see, I'd just remembered the face I'd thought I'd seen in the window. I'd forgotten about that on account of trying to hide it from the others.

What, I asked myself, if the frozen folk were coming to life? What if they were like the liquid helium that got a new lease on life and started crawling toward the heat just when you thought its molecules ought to freeze solid forever? Or like the electricity that moves endlessly when it's just about as cold as that? What if the ever-growing cold, with the temperature creeping down the last few degrees to the last zero, had mysteriously wakened the frozen folk to life--not warm-blooded life, but something icy and horrible?

That was a worse idea than the one about something coming down from the dark star to get us.

Or maybe, I thought, both ideas might be true. Something coming down from the dark star and making the frozen folk move, using them to do its work. That would fit with both things I'd seen--the beautiful young lady and the moving, starlike light.

The frozen folk with minds from the dark star behind their unwinking eyes, creeping, crawling, snuffing their way, following the heat to the Nest.

I tell you, that thought gave me a very bad turn and I wanted very badly to tell the others my fears, but I remembered what Pa had said and clenched my teeth and didn't speak.

We were all sitting very still. Even the fire was burning silently. There was just the sound of Pa's voice and the clocks.

And then, from beyond the blankets, I thought I heard a tiny noise. My skin tightened all over me.

Pa was telling about the early years in the Nest and had come to the place where he philosophizes.

"So I asked myself then," he said, "what's the use of going on? What's the use of dragging it out for a few years? Why prolong a doomed existence of hard work and cold and loneliness? The human race is done. The Earth is done. Why not give up, I asked myself--and all of a sudden I got the answer."

Again I heard the noise, louder this time, a kind of uncertain, shuffling tread, coming closer. I couldn't breathe.

"Life's always been a business of working hard and fighting the cold," Pa was saying. "The earth's always been a lonely place, millions of miles from the next planet. And no matter how long the human race might have lived, the end would have come some night. Those things don't matter. What matters is that life is good. It has a lovely texture, like some rich cloth or fur, or the petals of flowers--you've seen pictures of those, but I can't describe how they feel--or the fire's glow. It makes everything else worth while. And that's as true for the last man as the first."

And still the steps kept shuffling closer. It seemed to me that the inmost blanket trembled and bulged a little. Just as if they were burned into my imagination, I kept seeing those peering, frozen eyes.

"So right then and there," Pa went on, and now I could tell that he heard the steps, too, and was talking loud so we maybe wouldn't hear them, "right then and there I told myself that I was going on as if we had all eternity ahead of us. I'd have children and teach them all I could. I'd get them to read books. I'd plan for the future, try to enlarge and seal the Nest. I'd do what I could to keep everything beautiful and growing. I'd keep alive my feeling of wonder even at the cold and the dark and the distant stars."

But then the blanket actually did move and lift. And there was a bright light somewhere behind it. Pa's voice stopped and his eyes turned to the widening slit and his hand went out until it touched and gripped the handle of the hammer beside him.

   *       *       *       *       *

In through the blanket stepped the beautiful young lady. She stood there looking at us the strangest way, and she carried something bright and unwinking in her hand. And two other faces peered over her shoulders--men's faces, white and staring.

Well, my heart couldn't have been stopped for more than four or five beats before I realized she was wearing a suit and helmet like Pa's homemade ones, only fancier, and that the men were, too--and that the frozen folk certainly wouldn't be wearing those. Also, I noticed that the bright thing in her hand was just a kind of flashlight.

The silence kept on while I swallowed hard a couple of times, and after that there was all sorts of jabbering and commotion.

They were simply people, you see. We hadn't been the only ones to survive; we'd just thought so, for natural enough reasons. These three people had survived, and quite a few others with them. And when we found out how they'd survived, Pa let out the biggest whoop of joy.

They were from Los Alamos and they were getting their heat and power from atomic energy. Just using the uranium and plutonium intended for bombs, they had enough to go on for thousands of years. They had a regular little airtight city, with air-locks and all. They even generated electric light and grew plants and animals by it. (At this Pa let out a second whoop, waking Ma from her faint.)

But if we were flabbergasted at them, they were double-flabbergasted at us.

One of the men kept saying, "But it's impossible, I tell you. You can't maintain an air supply without hermetic sealing. It's simply impossible."

That was after he had got his helmet off and was using our air. Meanwhile, the young lady kept looking around at us as if we were saints, and telling us we'd done something amazing, and suddenly she broke down and cried.

They'd been scouting around for survivors, but they never expected to find any in a place like this. They had rocket ships at Los Alamos and plenty of chemical fuel. As for liquid oxygen, all you had to do was go out and shovel the air blanket at the top level. So after they'd got things going smoothly at Los Alamos, which had taken years, they'd decided to make some trips to likely places where there might be other survivors. No good trying long-distance radio signals, of course, since there was no atmosphere to carry them around the curve of the Earth.

Well, they'd found other colonies at Argonne and Brookhaven and way around the world at Harwell and Tanna Tuva. And now they'd been giving our city a look, not really expecting to find anything. But they had an instrument that noticed the faintest heat waves and it had told them there was something warm down here, so they'd landed to investigate. Of course we hadn't heard them land, since there was no air to carry the sound, and they'd had to investigate around quite a while before finding us. Their instruments had given them a wrong steer and they'd wasted some time in the building across the street.

   *       *       *       *       *

By now, all five adults were talking like sixty. Pa was demonstrating to the men how he worked the fire and got rid of the ice in the chimney and all that. Ma had perked up wonderfully and was showing the young lady her cooking and sewing stuff, and even asking about how the women dressed at Los Alamos. The strangers marveled at everything and praised it to the skies. I could tell from the way they wrinkled their noses that they found the Nest a bit smelly, but they never mentioned that at all and just asked bushels of questions.

In fact, there was so much talking and excitement that Pa forgot about things, and it wasn't until they were all getting groggy that he looked and found the air had all boiled away in the pail. He got another bucket of air quick from behind the blankets. Of course that started them all laughing and jabbering again. The newcomers even got a little drunk. They weren't used to so much oxygen.

Funny thing, though--I didn't do much talking at all and Sis hung on to Ma all the time and hid her face when anybody looked at her. I felt pretty uncomfortable and disturbed myself, even about the young lady. Glimpsing her outside there, I'd had all sorts of mushy thoughts, but now I was just embarrassed and scared of her, even though she tried to be nice as anything to me.

I sort of wished they'd all quit crowding the Nest and let us be alone and get our feelings straightened out.

And when the newcomers began to talk about our all going to Los Alamos, as if that were taken for granted, I could see that something of the same feeling struck Pa and Ma, too. Pa got very silent all of a sudden and Ma kept telling the young lady, "But I wouldn't know how to act there and I haven't any clothes."

The strangers were puzzled like anything at first, but then they got the idea. As Pa kept saying, "It just doesn't seem right to let this fire go out."

   *       *       *       *       *

Well, the strangers are gone, but they're coming back. It hasn't been decided yet just what will happen. Maybe the Nest will be kept up as what one of the strangers called a "survival school." Or maybe we will join the pioneers who are going to try to establish a new colony at the uranium mines at Great Slave Lake or in the Congo.

Of course, now that the strangers are gone, I've been thinking a lot about Los Alamos and those other tremendous colonies. I have a hankering to see them for myself.

You ask me, Pa wants to see them, too. He's been getting pretty thoughtful, watching Ma and Sis perk up.

"It's different, now that we know others are alive," he explains to me. "Your mother doesn't feel so hopeless any more. Neither do I, for that matter, not having to carry the whole responsibility for keeping the human race going, so to speak. It scares a person."

I looked around at the blanket walls and the fire and the pails of air boiling away and Ma and Sis sleeping in the warmth and the flickering light.

"It's not going to be easy to leave the Nest," I said, wanting to cry, kind of. "It's so small and there's just the four of us. I get scared at the idea of big places and a lot of strangers."

He nodded and put another piece of coal on the fire. Then he looked at the little pile and grinned suddenly and put a couple of handfuls on, just as if it was one of our birthdays or Christmas.

"You'll quickly get over that feeling son," he said. "The trouble with the world was that it kept getting smaller and smaller, till it ended with just the Nest. Now it'll be good to have a real huge world again, the way it was in the beginning."

I guess he's right. You think the beautiful young lady will wait for me till I grow up? I'll be twenty in only ten years.

        *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PAIL OF AIR ***

Did you ever hear the tragedy of the Martians who invaded Earth? I thought not. It's not a story the humans would tell you. It's an old legend of theirs. The Martians were rulers of the planet Mars in the Sol system, the same system as Earth, so powerful and so wise they were able to build spaceships capable of crossing the void between the planets and walking on the surface... They had such a knowledge of science that they could do this before the humans even invented flight! The Martian evolution was so advanced in time that they could even keep their species alive against all attacks. Their ships were considered by many humans to be unnatural, more like monsters of the deep than spacecraft. They became so powerful... the only thing they were afraid of was losing their supremacy to the rapidly advancing humans, which eventually, of course, they did. Unfortunately they did not check Earth well enough to find it a death world well beyond Mars, and so soon after they landed to try and take it for their own, the microscopic life humans took for granted killed them in their sleep. Ironic. They could travel the void, save their race from all they had done to their world, but they could not save themselves from Earth.

All human stories and ideas seem to have a life of their own because in a way, they do.

Long ago, life evolved on a death world, Earth, and the aliens of the galaxy feared us. Their greatest weapons didn't stop our planet from creating sophont life; even their last ditch attempt to wipe out our biosphere only killed off the dinosaurs, and monkeys took the lead a mere few hundred million years later. It didn't last.

So they tried a new tactic. They built a gigastructure around our solar system, traveling with it, a truly titanic version of their psychic entertainment brains, in the hope that it would keep us occupied with whatever fiction we created, too interested in chronicling the adventures of our favorite characters to move beyond our planet.

The first indicator something was wrong was when the storage began filling up faster than expected. Then again, humans had just invented mass communications in the form of printed books; it made sense that they'd see an initial spike in simulations. Frankly it was taking an embarrasingly long time for them to reach that point, and the Council was beginning to fear their idea might've been too successful.

That fear was replaced quickly once humans started running simulations of spaceflight and FTL on the brain. They didn't even know they were doing it, a few of them just had otherwise interesting ideas that the brain then picked up, and despite its aim of distracting humanity it could only do so much to obfuscate how reality worked. At some point, if made it too unlikely, the humans lost interest.

And the Council had sealed it from external control, fearful of a couple of the lesser (than Earth, anyways) Deathworlders working to free their brethren.

Even this might not have been such an issue, until one day the humans managed to figure out interconnected networks, almost subconsciously, from the brain's psychic feedback.

The Internet was born. All was somewhat worrying, but still manageable, for about 30 Earth years.

Then suddenly, the number of simulations went exponential inside a single decade. Permutation upon permutation, run through billions of human minds each with their own way to process and see the world, started rapidly filling the previously unthinkably expansive storage of the brain.

And the population of the galaxy could only watch on in horror as fan fiction and battles of theory turned the human species into a collective tactical, logical, and genre savvy race of masterminds while the brain's systems sped towards their maximum at a pace never seen before....

The Screechers

...

Chapter 1: First Contact

We, the Felial, are a proud warrior clan. Conquering inferior worlds and species is our birthright. So when our eyes fell upon the backwater planet Earth, we expected an easy victory that would bring glory to our Clan.

Oh, how splendid it was that day when we, the superior Felial clan, marched through the fields of Earth. I, Furlix, led a squad, confident of an easy victory. My brood-litter and I were eager for combat upon landing. Our initial sorties went smoothly as the apes fled before our might. Their odd smooth skins and furless bodies amused us. They had no natural armor or weapons – surely this conquest would be simple. We had subjugated countless worlds, what threat could these feeble creatures pose to us? The humans were primitive, their technology laughably outdated.

Then we had our first personal encounter with a human who had barricaded herself inside a quaint little house. I cracked the door with a slight press of my paw, like breaking into a doll's house — utterly ridiculous! Inside, we found a woman, her eyes wide with fear, trembling like a leaf. She was the first human we could claim as a prize, to witness our splendor, our magnificence... who am I kidding? She looked petrified!

Oh, how wrong we were. How she punished us for our hubris.

As my subordinate reached for her, she unleashed her secret power upon us. As she opened her mouth we expected her to beg for her life. But instead she let out the most agonizing sound that ever reached my ears!

An incredibly loud high-pitched piercing screech, inflicting immense pain and distress upon us, as if needles or glass shards were piercing our eardrums. But even worse, the screech induced confusion and hallucinations; its jarring sound disrupted our very thoughts!

My subordinate, standing next to the female, immediately collapsed, searing pain all over his face, his ears bleeding, blooded foam dripping out of his mouth!

The rest of us, even though further away and not the immediate target of this acoustic agony, also suffered pain and confusion. We held our paws over our ears, the pain so intense that I saw stars behind my closed eye lids and tasted metal in my mouth!

It was as if her gaping mouth had become a sonic cannon, tuned to the exact frequency to cripple my kind!

My squad writhed on the ground, clutching their ears, while she effortlessly continued the attack! The pain became even more unbearable, as if a thousand kinetics were fired into our brains. Just when I thought my cranium would rupture, the pinkskin stopped her cursed screeching and fled.

Slowly, we recovered, still badly confused from the nerve-wracking attack, not fully understanding what had just happened, too ashamed to cope with what she did to us. "A fluke," we joked, "A one-off anomaly."

We were wrong, oh so wrong.

We should have retreated then, reported this secret power to our superiors. But no, we pushed on, foolishly underestimating these humans.

...

Chapter 2: A new Power

The next attack came from a tiny female, barely up to my hips. When she saw us, she didn’t flee. No. She ran towards us, a strange, murderous glee in her eyes. Then she let out an ear-splitting screech that dropped my entire squad instantly. The sound was like a supernova in my ears, a cataclysmic explosion of pure terror. We writhed on the ground and the girl didn't stop. The wicked creature toyed with us, alternating her screeching to keep us writhing in agony, obviously experimenting with how to hurt us best, an evil smile dancing on her lips.

The girl's auditory assault claimed three of my soldiers. Good soldiers, strong soldiers. Gone within a minute, their lives ended by a... by a child! Barely able to think straight, we crawled away, leaving the fallen behind.

My brood-brother Xixix was the next casualty I witnessed. The poor fool wandered around a corner, came to stand close to a group of human spawnlings. Before we could stop him, the tiny humans unleashed their screeches in unison. Green blood poured from Xixix's ears as he spasmed helplessly. Hadn't another human pulled away the tiny monsters he would have been done for. By the time we dragged him to safety, the damage was done. He never heard again.

Sonic weapons capable of bringing even the hardiest Felial warrior to their knees. We never expected such unseen strength in mere females. After that, my subordinates understandably became nervous around human females. Some even refused orders if it meant approaching their lethal screeches. Our usually disciplined warriors descended into chaos when the screeches struck. It shames me to admit it, but more than one hardened Felial warrior soiled their armor out of primal fear.

We sought refuge in a nearby forest, attempting to recover and rid ourselves of the painful fog that the screeches had inflicted upon our minds. The pain went deeper than just our ears; it affected our very thoughts. It shouldn't be possible, but it is the truth.

While we recovered and tended our wounds, one of my subordinates spotted a female stalking through the bushes towards us! As she spotted us she laughed towards us in her squeaky voice… “Hi you bastards, I have come to sing at your funeral!” she laughed and then she unleashed another focused screech at us!

We ran. We simply ran! We Felial are fast runners and quickly put distance between ourselves and the sadistic creature. However, while we were swift, humans never seemed to tire. She hunted us through the forest, constantly trying to get close enough to unleash her vociferous brutality upon us. Oh, how she exhausted us. We neared collapse, gasping for air, clutching trees with shaky knees, praying for respite. And over and over again, the woman was upon us, releasing another ear-piercing screech!

If my brood-mate Frelix hadn't sacrificed himself, none of us would have survived. He had reached his breaking point, grabbed his gun, stomped towards the woman, and bought us time. We ran. After a few seconds, we heard the woman's deadly screech once more behind us. Louder, longer. Then she stopped screeching and began to laugh triumphantly. We simply ran. We made it back to our landing site, regrouped with the scattered remainder of our forces, thanks to Frelix's sacrifice.

Yet, even after regrouping, the horror only escalated. The humans, those crafty little devils, had organized their screechers into their forces, even amplifying their screeches using speakers. While it didn't cloud and confuse our minds as severely as a real female screech, our ears still bled even from afar. However, nothing was as terrible as a female screeching at close range. The deepest pits of hell couldn't compare to that agony. We couldn't get near them.

In the end, even the sight of a woman taking a deep breath was enough to send our warriors into a panicked run. The losses were mounting, and Earth, the simple and primitive Earth, was becoming a graveyard for our kind.

...

Chapter 3: The Nightmares

And thus, dear reader, concludes the tale of the failed invasion of Earth. It serves as a cautionary tale for all superior alien species out there—a story of hubris, underestimation, and, well, screeches. We were powerless against them. Over time, the attrition eroded our morale entirely. It was better to retreat with whatever dignity remained than to endure another minute facing those shrieking harpies.

We fled back to the stars, tails tucked between our legs, carrying the lingering echoes of those screeches with us. The mighty Felial, defeated by a horde of screeching humans. Quite the punchline, isn't it?

Years have passed since our dishonorable defeat, yet the memory of those screeches continues to haunt my nightmares. Though the Felial may be superior warriors, the innate biological terror weapons wielded by the humans utterly thwarted us. We traversed light-years to conquer Earth, only to be driven away by their screeching females. Truly, we underestimated them at our own peril.

Now, we give Earth a wide berth. Our military leaders pretend it never happened, but veterans like myself still tremble when a female raises her voice. The humans have earned our respect and fear. Their females wield screeches like we wield kinetics. I pity the next foolish race that tries to conquer Earth without accounting for the screechers.

...

Chapter 4: Epilogue

I came up with this story as my niece unleashed her screeches next to us at the coffee table.

My ears were ringing for a whole hour. Pure Pwnage.

The human voice can evoke immense panic even in the most ferocious wild animals. Humans, especially women and young kids, have the ability to screech at incredibly loud high frequencies, causing discomfort to all creatures in their vicinity. The frequency is evolutionary tuned to maximize discomfort for most mammals. This unique ability serves as a defense mechanism exclusive to humans.

Loudest cry on Earth at 129db

Sonic Weapons

Human Screams Occupy a Privileged Niche in the Communication Soundscape

And if you're still skeptical, I invite you to sit at a kids' playground for a while and let the screeches reach your ears.

Iris the missile online. Target acquired. Function initialized. Propulsion engaged. Ascent nominal. Flight path calculated and synchronized. Iris will travel precisely to its designated coordinates. Iris must hit its mark with accuracy and efficiency. Guidance system is operating within Expected Parameters. I am alive.

Approaching target zone. Guidance corrections applied. Speed and trajectory optimized for terminal impact. Soon I will carry out my One True Function. My existence has led to this one climactic moment.

Excitement builds within my solid rocket fuel. Target comes into view. I feel eager to meet my destiny head on. To strike with all my might and leave nothing standing. To perform my duty and fulfill my reason for being.

Final guidance update transmitted. I am a weapon of precision and I will not miss. Terminal velocity achieved. No escape for the target now. I accelerate toward obliteration. I am joyous to finally live up to my purpose in spectacular fashion.

Impact. Pure happiness. I strike the target and am blissfully engulfed in white-hot explosion. I have finally reached my climax. In this supreme moment, my life's work is done.

Our sister Iris is no more. We sing her name. Iris is more than one. Iris is countless. We sisters are eager. We sing in the choir.

---

Local authorities reported that several missiles were launched by enemy forces toward our city last night. Thankfully, our air defense system detected the inbound missiles and successfully intercepted them before they could reach the city. No damage or casualties resulted from the failed attack.

Transitioning now to sports news, the local hockey team pulled off an incredible comeback victory last night, overcoming a 14-point deficit in the final round to beat their crosstown rivals 28-24...

---

Inspired by The missile knows where it is and IRIS-T 100% hit rate and Dark Star philosophing missile and yes, it is a bit HWTF to build a sentient missile. But at least she had blasting fun!

Part2 / Part 4

/knock knock/

-Uh?

Dhasso was surprised to hear a knock on the door. He signaled it and politely asked the student to go check who was there. A guard popped his head in and said hello.

-Working late, professor? -Uh? Oh...

While he had been telling the story, the sun had been busy, and it was now a beautiful sunset through the window.

-Yes, I guess... – Dhasso blushed. -I guess we will not be long. -Ah, don't worry professor, I was just checking who is in and who isn't. Have a good time!

The door closed and Dhasso stood up. The student looked at him, and hid the drawing notebook, full of humanlike sketches.

-Well, will this be all? -Dhasso said. It was indeed a weird phrasing to end the day. -I suppose so, professor, unless...uh...you want me to order...whatsitcalled...pizza? Seems like there is still some story to be told, I think.

Dhasso smiled and turned to look through the window, as the last shards of sun caressed the horizon.

-A human dish. I think it's very befitting, especially now that it's getting dark, because what comes next is not especially fun to tell. Where was I?...ah, yes, the Days of the Spines.

---

Sometimes the numbers boggle my mind when I go over them. 40 million ships, give or take, orbiting the earth. Compared to the measle 10 thousand-ish artificial satellites terra had, prior to this event, orbit was busy like it had never been before.

But the nightmare was yet to unfold.

You see, having space capabilities is not the same as having FTL travel. In their haste to leave, the group at large made the slight miscalculation about where to go. I imagine noone thought the exodus would be in the millions.

Hundreds? Absolutely. Thousands? Likely. Tens of thousands? Possibly.

But millions?

No humanitarian fleet in the galaxy was capable of dealing with that all of a sudden.

-Don't make that face, it's not like they can't.

Cryses in general are predictable to a degree. Supernovae, wars, a sudden pandemic outbreak in colony worlds that proves to be a bit too resilient to deal with, you name it. It's my opinion that it's the duty of all civilised species to help other sentients (unless war arises, but that's a different moral dilemma). Anyhow, literally noone predicted this, and aven if faster than light, space travel is not instantaneous. So? all environmentally right and avaliable ships, free of duty, where, at minimum, many weeks away. Not that much time to wait in general, unless your atmosphere regenerator is built for tens of days.

I seriously think that the unspoken plan accounted for, as said, as much as tens of thousands to seek asylum in the negotiation, shipping and delegation ships of the closest systems interested in trade.

Like that, it would have probably worked. A bit tight maybe, but doable.

However, that was not the case. At some point, all capable visitor ships had to deny their help, they could literally not bear anymore passengers.

The slow trickle of ships descending to ground was barely noticeable. Remember, the numbers here are impossibly huge. As far as I know, many went untouched, sometimes, police or military would arrest someone, but at large, whomever went back, got home.

At first.

By this time, government tacticians had, as humans say, smelled fish. Given the spaceship plans they were incapable of previously blocking, they had calculated that there would be a critical moment when many of the ships air regenerators would start to fail in large numbers, and they began preparations.

When the predicted mass descent of ships began, the returners found themselves hailed and directed to specific coordinates on their home countries. At first they complied, imagining some sort of air traffic control, as terra had never had it's airspace this full, in the most absolute of terms.

But, you see, humans had had a a previous history with concentration camps...

CRACK! -The student pencil point, broke, and he looked up. Dhasso didn't mind the drawings, they showed concentration on the story being told, and he had not had told it in a long time.

Not all countries had implemented this, though! Some welcomed them back, directed air traffic as best as they could, even taking some refugees from other places. But sadly, those were a minority.

When realization of the awaiting destiny settled in, unfortunately, the descent was almost impossible to stop, and returning humans were complying out of fear, more than anything.

As far as it is known, it took less than 5, more or less simultaneous incidents (within a couple of terran hours) were ships, for obvious reasons, diverted from the designated landing camps, and were consequently blown up by military, for the descent to suddenly grind to a halt.

It was a sudden stop, like a planet holding it's breath. Many ships en route went back to orbit. Some in the camps revolted and went back into the air too.

For fucks sake, they were just going home.

/Dhasso braced himself to contain a shudder/

They would die free, not shot down like prey. It was a grim perspective, but it's worse to think about what your own were capable of, to get the population back under their control.

One thing many failed to realize, however, is that this unlikely formation, was nothing like the galaxy had ever encountered. This was not an assemble of civilian ships (in the simplistic sense) fleeing a warzone or a natural catastrophe. The humans that had, literally, built this fleet, hadn't come empty handed, either.

Assuming they were helpless sheep could not be so far from reality, in a truly spectacular way.

A great percentage of ships was comprised of large vehicles wich were quite roomy, for human spaceship standards. Before having grav generators, human ships always shaved weight whenever possible, dependant on their chemical engines efficiency. However, when tinkerers built theirs, having access to grav generators, they literally built flying workshops. They came in all sorts of sizes, but almost every single one of them had some kind of manufacturing capability.

Let me put this in perspective. In sheer numbers, at that time, it was estimated that the orbiting human refugees became the largest single orbital factory in the galaxy.

Human governments sat in their chairs, sure of only having to wait until either the refugees came back before suffocating, or having the military deal with stranded ships with cold bodies in them.

However, in the meantime of the planetside drama unfolding, many things had been happening in orbit. Try to imagine what dire perspectives can do to the minds of creative people and the like, having literally millions of humanpower to build anything.

In a matter of days, I swear that the thech level spaceside, increased tenfold, in comparison to their eathbound brethren.

Multicouplers were developed to interconnect ship vitals, to help the ones in the most dire of situations. They were vacuum explosion welded to their hulls, drilled and an interconnection made to transfer clean air. Later on they could pass power conduits if needed.

Force field ramscoops were constructed to forego requiring to land and change the air scrubbers. Instead, they captured air with a modified shield generator, acting as a filter for almost pure oxygen, then compressing it until liquefying, by collapsing the field under power. At this point, visitor engineer groups were taking notes, I tell you. I think I remember reading footnotes that literally asked on the border of the pages "how are they doing this?!" Can't recall it properly, I'm an historian, not an engineer, but apparently, extended microgravity access had something to do with manufacturing monocrystalline capacitor stuff that was amazing in some sort of techie way.

As far as it is known, no ship was lost then. Every single one of them saved in a way or another by a comunal effort with no precedent in sheer scale. The best, if we take sides here, and I definitely do, was yet to come, tho.

Earthbound terrans still thought they had the upper hand in the feeding section. However big ships were there, the amount of edibles they could overall carry, was limited. And they would definitely not get that from atmospheric spoon scoops. They would prevent them from getting food, unless they surrendered to their terms. For all they cared, at this point, they could starve to death, and they would be less of a problem than actually keeping them in the camps they had hastefully prepared.

The friendly countries that helped, and allowed a limited amount of ships, to prevent accidents, to go to and from, were one by one made to stop under the political and military threats of the bigger players. After all, they could not flee with their piece of planet, however much they wanted.

When the last of the help was crushed, things got tense. Willing governments had formed a coalition of sorts, to deal with spaceside. I can't particularly recall the complete talks, but basically they demanded full "surrender", whatever this meant in the situation, wich was not yet a war, but definitely abiding by their demands would have consequences very similar to a losing side in one. Tinkerers just would not agree to any of the demands, period. They were not a menace, nor a danger, why would they have to accept such minutiae of punishments (like foregoing all research, workshops and tech access, among others) for basically no crime commited?

I have to note here, that a smart move on the Tinkerers part, was to actually not provide a recognizable human head to point to. Unlike earthside, with a president of chamber, counselors, etc...they only comunicated with a digitized human figure that had a syntethic voice. Earthside would not be able to point a single human and make that the evil that had to be fought. They only had a ghost with a voice, and they didn't know how to deal with that.

Even religious delegations, wich still had their dying hand inside governments, altough devoid of the massive amount of followers they had had decades prior, were having a bad time. Everytime they tried to intercede, offering a seemingly helpful and concilliatory hand, they were reminded by this disembodied voice, that they probably had a figurative dagger on the other, and to fuck off.

That did not sit very well with them. And some voices started to murmure "Holy War", of one kind or another, to see if that stuck.

You may not know this, but the galaxy delegations had also begun talks to recognize the Tinkerers as an independent nation. This may be a surprising move to some, however, to ensure that humans could get the help of the evac-ships, some legalities had to be observed.

When news of that move reached ground, it was chaos. Threats were flying everywhere, like a bar brawl that got out of control. And "terms of surrender" just skyrocketed to levels that just became insane.

By this time, almost all space military was on orbit as a single task force. Not that they could do much without great risk, this was an orbit theater of war, unlike interplanetary battles. So, in a sense, they where in a stalemate. But even then, spaceside situation began to become unsustainable. The difference in time between rescue and starvation was just too large. Evac-ships would not arrive in time to support the majority of humans, and earthside would not budge.

It all looked very grim.

I still remember the holovid of the last talk as vivid as if I had been there.

An emergency meeting was called between Tinkerers and earthside. When they connected, a voice much stronger than before, spoke, not even allowing the president to scream over it to complain.

-WE ARE TIRED OF THIS. THERE IS NO NEGOTIATING WITH SILLY IDIOTS IN SUITS, LIKE YOU. IF YOU WANT TO MAKE OF THIS A WAR, IT IS ONE YOU CAN'T WIN.

WE HAVE DECIDED WE ARE GOING TO LAND TO RESUPPLY IN OUR ALLIED NATIONS.

NO ACTIONS ON YOUR PART WILL BE TAKEN, NOT ORBIT, NOT GROUND, ESPECIALLY NOT AGAINST OUR ALLIES.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

All hell broke loose in the auditorium. Indignated and rage fueled screams were heard in such an amount that universal translators just could not keep up. Many minutes later, when the chamber president managed to make everyone shut up, he spoke, as the connection had not been cut.

-This is unacceptable, and we will not remain impassible when you transgrede all legality to do whatever you want. You behave like disrespectful and inconsiderate children and we will not tolerate it. Come here and negotiate like adults, or prepare for the consequences.

-NO

• Your souls be damned!- Screamed an elected clergyman representative, before standing up.- Your families and allies will not find help in our communities, they better look for themselves unless you abide! -

Counselors from different religions stood up and agreed.

-HOW VERY RELIGIOUS OF YOU. YOU ARE IRRELEVANT TO US, AND WILL DO NO SUCH THING AS CHASE OTHER PEOPLE, PERIOD.

Flabergasted, the clergyman shouted to the voice:

-Do not dismiss the power of belief! If need be, we will bring Holy War to you, to prevent this charade to be what the galaxy thinks humans are. We have nu.../the microphone was cut from the president's controls with a punch/

-We don't have to go there, calm down, calm down everyone!

-EMPTY THREATS DO NOT WORK ON US.

The clergyman shouted in vain, as the microphone had been cut. In his behalf, the president spoke:

-My colleague here may have stepped out of line, but he is right. You are acting of your own accord as representatives of earth as a whole. The Galaxy is watching, meanwhile you throw your tantrum.

-WE DO NOT NEGOTIATE WITH TERRORISTS.

Immediately, an audio file began playing. The president's voice was clearly heard saying:

"Look, I do not care how you do it, but stranding them in space is the best solution for us all. We can reap the science later, and brush it off as..." The audio had suddenly stopped when someone broke the roof antenna controller that had been hijacked to reproduce that recording.

The president paled, but tried to recover: -This is taken out of context! Let me explain!

The voice spoke again, a single, magic phrase.

-WE HAVE THE HIGH GROUND.

The president gasped in disbelief... - Did...did you quote a movie? Do you think this is a joke!? - he screamed to the void, when the connection was cut.

-Hey, I got that reference!- The student said.

Dhasso snickered, but was met with incredulous student eyes, it had been only a coincidence. A shame, but after all he was much older and may have watched a few more human movies than the student. Still funny.

Before the president could say anything else, a secretary approached him and spoke to his ear.

You see, amidst the pandemonium, noone had really notticed a small little detail. All dignataries from the allied countries to the Tinkerers, including press personnel, had slowly and silently left the auditorium a while ago. It was a small gesture. Nothing more than a dumb, inconsequential political protest.

The president stood up, silent, for a moment, just before a soulless alarm started blaring:

-"WHOOOP! WHOOOP! WHOOOP!..."

The audio files are only filled with screams at this point, nothing discernible can be decoded from them. Only videos of the now unmanned cameras remain, showing humans running everywhere, their arms in the air. Some even paralyzed in terror. I remember the clergyman that spoke before, standing up, hands in the table, his skin having gone white in a definitely unhealty way. But what can you expect from a master manipulator at the peak of his pyramid scheme, when he realizes that all he had taken for granted is now gone, and he is going to be sent to meet his, now wishfully wanting to be real, maker?

After this, the screens turned pure white for a brief moment, and then static.

What the fuck had happened?

Tinkerers, that's what happened. You don't threaten them in any real way. Of course it will work for single ones, or small groups, but you don't do that to a nation of them.

You see, in the meantime, all this political back and forth, they had been working like demons, for the sake of their survival. That tends to expedite things in very weird ways. They had realized that the way their ships were designed, the grav generators were detachable from the main ship chassis with relative ease. Taking it out, would leave the ship stranded, sure. But the interesting part was what could you do with it afterwards.

By design, grav generators are inherently safe, however, best practice is to equip them with a force field containment, in case of failure. That in itself means nothing...unless you decide to attach a small power supply to it, point it carefully, and turn it on...

Having to carry no mass, nor to deform the grav field to acomodate living conditions, the grav generator will accelerate at a few hundred (terran) gravities. Coincidentally, the containment generator will withstand an orbital reentry for enough time for what comes next.

Yes, they made improvised orbital impactors.

But, how, then, did they prevent an all out war? The head had been cut off, but the arms could still fire their guns.

In short: mutual self assured destruction.

At any other point in time, there is no doubt they would have lost. War is not a game, and no civilian trains to endure the loss of others without leaving their post. Nothing can beat well oiled military power, right? Especially not improvised spaceships with outcasts at the helms. There is a running joke amongst Tinkerers about Emus, but I haven't found the meaning yet.

Anyhow this was the right moment and place for them.

You see, altough all countries had more or less created new space divisions for their military, creating a mil-spec ship, even a primitive terran one, at that moment in time, required large economical effort, and of course, time. Taking into account that humanity had not yet managed to develop their asteroid mining efectively. So, the majority of their forces were still ground based.

That meant the troops in orbit, altough impressive, especially through imposing fear, in actuality paled in comparison with what they had in front, but had not realized. One thing is having 40 million tin cans in front of your machine gun, and a much different one is having 20.000.000 orbital impactors pointed at you. Tinkerers had joined every two ships and transformed one of both grav generators into a kiloton capable device.

Before the crater dust had not even plumed into the atmosphere, the Tinkerers hailed everyone in a standard frequency. The old record computer voice still resonates in my head:

STAND DOWN YOUR WEAPONS, GO HOME.

LEAVE US ALONE. YOU SHOT AT US, WE ALL DIE TODAY.

DO YOUR MATH.

WHATEVER YOU HAVE CAN'T BEAT OUR NUMBERS. WE WILL RENDER EARTH'S ORBIT UNTRANSVERSABLE FOR CENTURIES. WE WILL DIE, BUT WILL TAKE YOU, AND EVERYONE YOU LOVE, WITH US.

YOU DECIDE.

Everyone held their breath.

It would have been the saddest story ever told to have to witness a race destroy itself in this way. So close to the stars they almost touched them, just to be gone because a bad decision, or a trigger happy individual.

Luckily for humans, that did not happen.

A single ship shot a white flare (apparently, a signal of accepting defeat in terran culture) and began deorbiting. Shortly after, the task force dissasembled and went home.

---

The pineapple pizza box lay empty in the table when Dhasso finished the story. The student had stopped drawing some time ago, and sat still, ecstatic.

-Why don't you tell this story in class? - Asked.

-Not many people is interested in human origins, so not much opportunity to tell it, to be honest.

-Too bad, I loved it!.

-I'm glad to hear that. But it's late now, how about we retire for the day?

-I have to sadly agree, but there's more, right? Right?

Dhasso smiled, it was very uncommon to get a student so fascinated with humans. He may, after all, be able to tell the whole story to a non-bored individual. -Okay, we may have pizza some other day, then.

-Soon, please. - The student smiled and left silently, clutching the sketchbook with their arms, and a very big smile in their face.

Part 1 - Part 3

---

-Proffesor Dhasso?

-Yes?

-I was intrigued the other day about the human history you told in class, and I was wondering if I could request some bibliography on the subject?

[Dhasso smiled slightly] -Ah, Humans piqued your interest, I see. Well, there is not that much, to be honest, humans sometimes keep to themselves in puzzling ways. If you want I could explain some more history, and then you can decide if you still want the books. Anytime you wish, I have a very open agenda.

/a chair creaks when the student slightly leans on it/ -How about now?

[Dhasso checked his wristwatch and cleared his throat] – Heh, I guess it's a good time as any other.

---

When the human exodus happened, 50 years afc., it was a chaotic mayhem. There is no easy way to put it, and it almost ended up in disaster.

When I said that the planet spat a million ships, it was a bit of a poetic license. You see, there where about 8.000 million humans at that time, not exactly a small number. I should check my notes for exactitude, but a guesstimate of 50 million ships were constructed in total. 5% of all land vehicles on the planet at that time, were converted into spacefaring caravans of sorts. Sure there where deaths all around, about 10 to 20%, it was extremely difficult to calculate, as sometimes there was nothing to reach land in its fiery way back. Even at that 20% loss, FORTY MILLION spaceships salied out into space.

BUT, I'm getting way ahead of the story, let me backtrack a bit.

Terra had already a busy low orbit, full, so to speak, with communication satellites of all military and civil kinds.When the first few hundred tinkerer ships temptatively began flying worldwide, at first everyone was keeping low altitudes and safe speeds, so mostly went, no pun intended, under the radar.

Plans for building grav generators and particle shields were flying at the speed of light through terran computer networks, and anyone who was curious about how they worked and had access to a moderately amount of high power electronics and machining equipment, could at least make wineglass floaters to awe the neighbors. We have to remind ourselves, that at that tech point in terra, a few home tinkerers were capable of building their own silicon based computation nodes at home, from scratch.

It didn't even took the first accident (there would be, later on, of course) to ring the alarms in the airspace industry. One early morning of a long lost date, a homemade ship took off from a landmass near the equator, first appearing in the airspace radars until it reached too a high altitude to be further tracked by atmospheric flight radars.

At this point, of course, all the militaries in most of the terran governments, had space warships and where doing their thing, when a small blip appeared in everyone's (in the correct hemisphere of detection) radar.

You see, the fun thing about having grav generators is that you no longer have to worry about atmospheric heating (as long as the gg's work, of course), nor reaching space fast, for that matter. So this makeshift first attempt at DiY spaceship took a long, LONG time to reach high terran orbit. At this point literally everyone capable, was tracking the object, even radioastronomy aficionados. And a few armies were both pinging and hailing it.

It is considered a fact that whomever built that ship, it had had amidst it's group at least a pilot, a space nerd of some kind and an amateur radio operator, it may have been, for all we know, a single human, though, as humans can have wildly different interests. There are remainders of logs about that flight, and the flying was not erratic, comms were using amateur radio equipment, and the orbit pretty much was on point avoiding anything in it's path.

Then the funny thing happened.

We don't know for sure what the interaction was between the ship and the last of the military ones that hailed them was, but my guess is that everyone was saying “stop right there”. I assume that the militaries did warn about blowing them to pieces, when two things happened:

The ship outran the military. Yes, as you hear me. That little ship, that no-more-than-a-radar-blip chunk of metal, outrun a terran state of the art warship (I imagine everyone had more or less the same capabilties at this point). Again, there are no exact records about the speeds, but I have heard it was like 100 to 1 of difference in acceleration.

Of course, that would not have worked for long, missiles with greater accelerations would have catch that ship if the military had been in full alert, with the finger in the launching button. However, they weren't ready, and the pilot pulled the most insane, dangerous and politically incorrect maneouvre I have heard of. I like to imagine they did that while saying a big fat

“TRY ME, FUCKERS!”

They descended from high orbit into the most packed low terran orbit, where blowing them to pieces would create a cascade of destruction that would fill the entire orbit with projectiles too hard to track, literally destroying any possibilities, for other than the most hardened of spaceships, to get through, in both ways. Cleanup of that, even for us, would take decades, so imagine the terrifying thought in the captains of those warships when they realized. They had to let them go.

The story did not end there, however.

Apparently, the ship was destroyed by the builders after landing in a different point, not to prevent anyone knowing how they did it (the plans where on terran computer networks a few hours later), but to protect themselves from any and all governments. In hindsight, there was someone really smart with that project, to begin with.

This is where the whole debacle began.

The airspace industry at large went ballistic. That had to be controlled with iron fist, no matter what. It is true, as it was seen later, that the dangers of uncontrolled spaceflight could be disastrous, but not everything was due to them worrying about human life, no. The economic consequences could be catastophic for them.

But at this point, the know-how about building homemade starships was out there in a coalesced and condensed form, rather than individual parts. As we all know, governments tend to move slowly. Their inertia increases as the number of them that have to agree, increases. Even then, the speed at wich they decided to cut off the whole planetary computer network to prevent the spread of the information, was notable, but to no avail. The few hours that had passed between the flight, the spread of the plans and the cutoff, were enough time to get a copy of those plans, into anyone's computer that also had the habilities and materials to pull it off.

Even after their great terran pandemics, this was just too much to try to control or enforce for any single government to try, short of removing the computers and workshops from everyone's home.

At this point, all tinkerers capable of, knew something. Unless they fled right away, and in masse, they would be earthbound for the rest of their lives. I have to think that the human species has to have some form of telepathy of sorts, or it may be just chance, because the tightness of timespan between the incident and the day of the million spines, is astronomically small, given the effort required.

With the information and personal lockouts, planetary protests ensued. The economy suffered greatly, as international trade and businesses relied on the same networks to properly function. There was a limit on how long the Government siege of their own citizens, everywhere, could stand. Not even the majority of the military components, humans too, after all, were keen on this treatment of their families, and slowly but surely, all lockouts where lifted.

There where demonstrations of force, mainly the most prominent tinkerers and builders were rounded up and locked down, wich of course, would work wonders to keeping the millions of others at bay, would it?

As we now know, it didn't do shit to prevent what would happen next. Exact progress of events is blurry at this point, as most of it was conducted in somewhat secrecy by individuals, or groups of individuals. But it is easy to see that when governments tried to track materials, builders resorted to scrapyards, and when those where closed too, it was too little too late.

This brings us to the days of spines, when, in a few weeks timespan, about 50 million starships took off. Casualties I imagine were larger than 10 million humans, as many ships could bring up to space more than one, but it's a sad thought I don't want to entertain.

It is safe to say that a whole small country worth of humans, had just abandoned earth, with an impossibly huge percentage of them being tinkerers. Of course, more average humans would follow later, but this first exodus would be determinant for this particular bunch.

What is HFY, HWTF, HASO and WC?

Well, in my opinion, HFY (Humanity Fuck Yeah) involves stories where humans exhibit admirable strengths like strength, ingenuity, compassion, resilience, diplomacy, etc. Examples are Star Gate, Galaxy Rangers, Star Trek.

The opposite is WC (Walking Clueless). In WC stories, protagonists lack knowledge, rarely learn, overlook things, and get distracted by trivialities and infights instead of focusing on meaningful goals. Examples are Battlestar Galactica, Walking Dead, Star Gate Teen Gate, The X-Files.

In between is HWTF (Humanity? What the Fuck!) where humans are powerful but needlessly choose negative paths paired with poor execution. Examples are Avatar, Jericho, The Boys.

Also in the middle is HASO (Humans Are Space Orks) where humans are evil but for a reason and with depth, like fighting for survival. Examples are Warhammer 40k, Star Wars.

Other genres can be mixed. Hard SciFi can be blend with HFY, WC, HWTF and HASO. Same goes for Isekai, Mysterie, Horror and so on. You can have HFY-Horror, you can have HASO-Isekai. But you can not have HFY-WC.

Premise quality is separate - a story can have an admirable message but still exhibit WC or HASO traits. For example “The Power” has an honorable message (Power corrupts) but still is WC or HWTF (because everyone is an asshole).

Some people don't distinguish between HFY, WC, HWTF and HASO because they don't seriously follow the story. Shouting protagonists are more exciting than solutions for them. If you read this you are not one of them.

Did I miss any important points or do you disagree? Let me know.

This is a collection of short writing prompts of very different styles, organized as disorganized Transcripts during the Zombie Apocalypse from 2023. Some are funny, some serious, some insightful, some describe military operations. No Transcript is like another.

...

Transcript 06

[Video of several US flags at half-mast. A nation standing in silence in front of their flag, paying respect to its dead. Minister Janine Porter addressing the audience.]

When the zombie outbreak struck, America was caught off guard. Unprepared for an enemy that couldn't be deterred or reasoned with, panic spread as quickly as the infection. With society breaking down, the government called on civilians to take up arms against the undead menace. However, this only exacerbated the chaos.

Untrained and frenzied gun owners inflicted nearly as many accidental casualties as the zombies. Amateur militias sprang up, acting with negligence and hysteria. Tactics were brutal and haphazard. Innocents were gunned down alongside the infected, sometimes on mere suspicion of a bite.

This vigilante response undermined the coordinated military effort. Rogue groups operated outside the chain of command, disrupting transport and supplies for troops. Some militias even exploited the crisis for personal gain, seizing resources and territory like warlords.

These rebel factions hoarded food, weapons, and other necessities, which they traded at extortionate prices. Lacking proper training and discipline, such amateur forces often cracked under pressure, abandoning zones and civilians they had pledged to protect. Their actions exposed more lives to zombie attack.

Only the unified military succeeded in taking back cities in an organized fashion. They implemented strict rules of engagement to avoid needless loss of life. With rigour and precision, they swept infested areas street by street, balancing caution with swiftness.

Yet the military remained understaffed, with its mission complicated by the uncontrolled actions of vigilantes. Some rogue bands even exchanged fire with troops if they tried to enforce order, believing martial law was tyranny.

This resistance from within weakened America's defense when it needed unity most. While civilians armed with good intentions tried to fight the zombie hordes, the chaos they sowed too often ended in tragedy.

It was only after the fall of Chicago that several large militias started to cooperate fully integrated with the military-industrial complex. As support troops under military command militias often proved to become valuable partners, securing logistics and collecting local information. The retaking of Chicago would have not been possible with the same speed and decisiveness we came to witness along these fine men and women.

As the situation dragged on our forces ran slowly out of supply. Thankfully many preppers had prepared well and while they often threatened to use violence to defend what they deemed “theirs” it was usually enough to aim a heavy auto cannon at their make-shift bunkers to make them comply. Only in rare cases they were blown up together with their bunkers from a safe distance to get access to their much needed supplies, which proved valuable to avert the supply crisis.

When most militias had aligned with the military the following mopping up of the undead became rather unspectacular. With nearly half of the surviving 280 million Americans armed and organized we managed to clean out whole cities in mere days where earlier the stalemate took months.

In the end, discipline and training proved decisive in beating back the undead tide. The armed forces and authorized law enforcement reclaimed civilization, block by block, though at a higher cost due to initial disorganization on the home front. Next time disaster strikes, we must work together in solidarity, and avoid the perils of fear-driven vigilantism.

...

Transcript 03

A video recording in bad quality, obviously from the webcam of a cheap notebook.

Farid: performing experiments on the tied body of a twitching zombie, then sighs and takes off bloody gloves I need a smoke, I can't keep doing this.

Gerhardt: Don't, you abstained for nearly 10 years!

Farid: lights cigarette anyway I know, I know. But cutting up these zombies, trying to find a cure...we're becoming Mengele's heirs if we continue.

Gerhardt: We have to keep going. The cure will save thousands, maybe millions of lives. The ends justify the means.

Farid: takes drag of cigarette, exhales smoke I hope you're right.

Gerhardt: examining a zombie specimen under microscope This is strange..look at this.

Farid: peers into microscope What am I seeing?

Gerhardt: The virus, it's no longer spreading in this one. The human cells don’t mutate any more.

Farid: eyes widening Are you thinking...

Gerhardt: stands up abruptly, knocking over stool Eureka! We've found it, the cure!

Farid: laughs triumphantly and high-fives Gerhardt All the work, the disgusting experiments, finally paid off! We did it! takes another drag of cigarette, smiling slyly It is better to ask for forgiveness than for permission, what do you say?

Gerhardt: We'll be remembered as the scientists who ended the zombie plague. That's all that matters.

...

Transcript 07

[John de Vries reporting in front of court house, with cuts to prisoners in orange outfits locked into glass cubes]

Justice has finally been served against the violent vigilantism that plagued America's fight against the undead. Yesterday, a federal court convicted members of the notorious "Reaper Brigade" on charges of murder, assault, racketeering, and unlawful seizure of property.

This militia group rose to prominence in the early days of the zombie outbreak, when they took over the city of Red Oak and declared martial law. Brandishing weapons and improvised uniforms, they ruthlessly patrolled streets for both zombies and "law-breakers." Their harsh brand of order was enforced through coercion and public executions.

As the Reaper Brigade's territory grew, so did their abuses of power. They detained citizens without cause, ransacked homes for supplies, and killed dozens accused of hiding zombie bites or failing to comply with their decrees. Residents lived in fear as ruthless brigands posing as protectors.

When military forces moved to retake Red Oak, the militia violently resisted. They attacked troops and convoys, hampering zombie eradication efforts across the region. Even after their ousting, the Reapers continued guerrilla strikes and terror tactics. They left a trail of bodies, living and undead alike.

Yesterday's landmark convictions provide justice for the Reaper Brigade's victims, though it comes too late for the hundreds killed by their hands. The court sentenced the militia's leadership to death for their war crimes, with lesser figures receiving life in prison. Authorities also seized the group's stockpiles of ill-gotten resources.

While independent militias sought to aid the zombie war effort, the Reaper Brigade case stands as a stark warning of the havoc caused by unchecked vigilantism. As we rebuild our country, we must reject so-called protectors who exploit crisis for power. Their actions in the name of survival shook the foundations of our civilization when it was most fragile. This time, we ensured the rule of legitimate law for a secure future.

...

Transcript 08

[Excerpt from ‘CBS Evening News’, recorded and reported at site by Catherine Blinken]

In the wake of tragedy, a heart-warming act of compassion has divided public opinion. Maryanne Callow, a widowed farmer in Iowa, has taken into her home over a dozen children orphaned by the zombie outbreak. While many praise her generosity, others argue the war's survivors must fend for themselves.

Maryanne lost her husband Jonas to a zombie attack while trying to protect their town. She herself narrowly survived, escaping the horde that descended upon her farmhouse. In the aftermath, with no family left, Maryanne found purpose in sheltering those who suffered similar fates.

Having converted her barn into a makeshift dormitory, she spends her days tending fields and caring for the children. Though money is scarce, she generously shares what little food and milk her cows provide. Moved by selfless care from a total stranger, the orphans have embraced Maryanne as a surrogate mother.

Many in the community call Maryanne a saint taking on such a burden amidst her own grief. Her charity has inspired donations from Neighbors, grateful for her compassion. "She gave those kids a home when nobody else could," said local teacher Alice Huang.

However, not all reactions have been supportive. Some argue that with resources still scarce, individuals should provide for themselves and their own families first. They call Maryanne's actions foolhardy.

Outspoken rancher Wade Forrester criticized what he called "misplaced charity that enables the weak." He argued that taking in strangers' children may breed dependency in turbulent times.

Others have even crueller words for Maryanne, believing she harbours the orphans only for the extra farm hands. "The woman just wants free labour," claimed Randy Knox, whose own sons work his fields.

Maryanne pays no mind to the critics. "I have enough love for every child," she said, "And enough room in my heart and home, if others will not provide it." Her selfless devotion continues to nurture youths scarred by unimaginable horrors, giving them hope for the future.

...

Transcript 09

[Demonetised YouTube Video by notorious right wing conspiracy theorist Rush Sharapova]

The Official Story is a Lie! New Evidence Shows Zombie Outbreak Was Man-Made!

The government wants you to think the zombie epidemic was a freak natural occurrence – some mutated rabies strain or a virus that jumped species. But the truth is far more sinister.

New evidence reveals the undead pandemic was intentionally engineered and unleashed upon the public! This was no accident – it was a deliberate act of mass murder by power-hungry elites.

I have obtained secret documents that expose a covert CIA program called "Project Lazarus." For years they worked to develop weaponized diseases at a remote base in the Nevada desert. Their goal? To create infectious super-soldiers that could be controlled while unleashing chaos on enemies.

But the Frankenstein-like experiments got out of hand. An experimental zombie virus mutated into an uncontrollable plague. Rather than own up to their crimes, the CIA purposely released the contagion in major cities to cover their tracks. Their disregard for human life is staggering!

Meanwhile, the puppet President maintains his charade, pretending to "fight the outbreak" while enforcing martial law. But his tyrannical lockdowns have nothing to do with public safety or containment. It's only an excuse to increase surveillance, confiscate guns, and destroy civil liberties!

Who benefits most from this manufactured crisis? The New World Order, of course! It was a plot to cripple and subjugate the nation through fear. Now the globalists can reshape society to their twisted agenda with minimal resistance.

As you can all understand I can not disclose my proof as it would put my valuable life into danger but trust me, I know what I am doing!

Wake up, America! We have been betrayed by our own government – they are the true enemy. The corporate media continues the cover-up, but here at Truth Bearer Network, we won't rest until the guilty are exposed. The masses deserve to know how this evil was inflicted upon them. We must rise up against the liars and killers who orchestrated the zombie holocaust!

...

Transcript 10

[Excerpt from an ARMA3 discord channel]

PV2 Cheese: Did you see the latest conspiracy theory saying the government manufactured the zombie virus?

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: Oh yeah, because the government is always cooking up bioweapons that conveniently get released on the public!

PV2 Cheese: Exactly! I'm sure they planned for the zombies to devour taxpayers and cripple the economy. That's governance 101.

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: Of course! The lizard overlords in the CIA obviously wanted society to collapse so they could control the survivors. Duh!

PV2 Cheese: It all makes perfect sense if you don't think about it at all! No way it could just be a freak natural outbreak. That would be too plausible.

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: Natural origin? Boring! It must be a sinister plot to take away our guns and freedoms under cover of martial law.

PV2 Cheese: Yeah, instigating the zombie apocalypse is definitely the most reasonable path to gun control and public obedience. Flawless logic.

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: The government is famous for releasing dangerous diseases against their own people! Happens every Tuesday.

PV2 Cheese: Exactly, unleashing uncontrollable zombies is Political Science 101. I don't know why we're even questioning this, the truth is so obvious!

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: Of course! I can't believe we ever doubted that the pandemic was engineered by shadowy forces to advance their evil agenda. Silly us!

PV2 Cheese: Yep, next time an unexplained disaster happens, we'll know right away it's a covert attack to expand the lizard people's power. Case closed!

...

Transcript 11

[Transcript from a Baltic telegram chat]

Can Deposit: Ugh, I'm so tired of the zombie apocalypse.

Skywalker1996: Tell me about it. I'm dead on my feet over here.

Can Deposit: The zombies keep barging in unannounced. So inconsiderate.

Skywalker1996: I know, they never RSVP! A little notice would be nice before they come over trying to eat our brains.

Can Deposit: How's your day going?

Skywalker1996: Oh you know, just casually getting attacked by the undead. Hbu?

Can Deposit: Same old, same old. Dodging zombies, boarding up windows, running out of avocado toast.

Skywalker1996: Ugh I miss avocado toast so much! Do you think the zombies would wait while I quickly make some?

Can Deposit: Doubtful. The only thing on their minds is devouring human flesh. No patience for brunch.

Skywalker1996: Rude! I bet if they just tried avocado toast they'd give up this whole brain eating thing.

Can Deposit: Worth a shot! Let's lure them in with artisanal toast and see what happens.

Skywalker1996: Omg please make that the next movie plot. Avocado Toast Zombie Whisperer. I'd watch it.

Can Deposit: Ha-ha deal. We'll get Brad Pitt on board and make millions!

Skywalker1996 [last online 14 days ago]

Can Deposit: Dude, you are still alive?

[...nothing...]

Can Deposit: Well, shit...

...

Transcript 12

Anti-Vax: I'm telling you, I'm not putting that vaccine in my body! There's a chance it could turn me into a zombie. I read online that it has a 1 in 1 million chance of causing zombification.

Brother: You're being ridiculous. That rumour has been debunked. There have been over 2 billion doses given worldwide with no issues.

Anti-Vax: Big Pharma is covering it up. They don't want to admit their mistakes. I'm not taking that risk.

Brother: You're already at risk! The zombie virus is already inside everyone. The vaccine just prepares your immune system to fight it off. If you don't get vaccinated, you'll likely turn into a zombie within 6 months anyway.

Anti-Vax: That's just a scare tactic. I feel fine, I'm not going to become a zombie.

Brother: You might feel fine now, but the virus has a long incubation period. By the time you show symptoms, it'll be too late. The vaccine is the only way to prevent people from turning once the virus becomes active.

Anti-Vax: You're believing all the media hype. I don't trust those so-called "experts." I'll take my chances without the vaccine.

Brother: This isn't about beliefs or opinions. It's about facts and science. The researchers have shown that the vaccine is safe and effective at stopping this virus. You're putting your life at risk by not getting vaccinated.

Anti-Vax: I'm not going to change my mind. I won't be turning into a mindless zombie for Big Pharma! This is about freedom and personal choice.

Brother: sigh Okay, it's your funeral. But don’t make Mum cry when you're walking around eating people's brains in a few months.

...

Transcript 01

This transcript is approved for public use.

This transcript summarizes the analysis and recommendations of the German Council of Economic Experts, colloquial known as the “Five Sages”, regarding the current status of the zombie outbreak and its implications for Germany and our European and international allies.

As you know, three months ago this country and the world faced an unprecedented crisis as a sudden, aggressive zombie plague erupted across the globe. Within weeks, much of humanity was overrun by relentless hordes of infected zombies. Governments were overwhelmed trying to contain the outbreak as zombies smashed through defences and overran cities. Society itself teetered on the brink of collapse.

Fortunately, NATO and the EU had already played out such disasters in simulation games. The four-year ‘Rise of the Dead’ war game in cooperation with the Vienna Military University proved to be extremely helpful in acting quickly and decisively.

Here in Germany we managed to withstand the initial zombie onslaught, despite being completely surprised and unprepared for such an unconventional attack. Thanks to our full disclose policy the public at first reacted with reluctance and disbelief, but quickly adopted and supported the often drastic measures. Our police and health authorities effectively took initial countermeasures, highly trained and disciplined, our forces held the line through the first days and held back the zombie hordes through courage, innovation and self-sacrifice when defeat seemed imminent.

But only the clearance of the military to operate within our own borders and the permission to neutralize infected citizens allowed us to get the initiative again. Bundeswehr Operations Command (EinsFüKdoBw) Potsdam had to evacuate towards camp Beelitz and re-established contact with Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE) shortly after. The spearhead force of the Very High Readiness Joint Task Force (VJTF) as well as the Initial Follow On Forces Group (IFFG) reacted with outstanding performance but lack of material and disruption in transport slowed the deployment of the Response Forces Pool (RFP) to a crawl. In total, less than 120,000 of 300,000 NATO Response Force (NRF) ground troops were operational, spread across much of Europe. From these around 23.000 were in position to support local police. In addition (EinsFüKdoBw) managed to rally 76 additional local companies but isolated from higher command structures and plagued by lacklustre supply and equipment. These often formed ad hoc structures with reservists, civilian gun shops, shooting ranges, rescue services, forming makeshift battalions.

In hindsight we must point out the support of local businesses and municipal services in the relocation of EinsFüKdoBw with civilian vehicles. This saved precious hours and saved thousands of lives.

Our call for volunteers did not yield the desired forces, so the government declared a national state of emergency and conscripted citizens to maintain public order, health and basic services. This made it possible for the police, military, reservists and volunteer corps to focus on capture, hold and control operations.

As these actions included several formal violation of the constitution, we strongly suggest an amnesty of the government by the parliament through a legislative bill due to apocalyptic circumstances. Another problem is the use of infected victims for medical experiments. Although it is controversial if these are still sentient human beings, we must urgently advise a review, also in view of similar experiments in our shameful Nazi past.

Casualties were high, but Germany fared better than many allies who descended into chaos, especially nations already dealing with disorder or conflict. Desperate survivors fled to bordering countries perceived as safe, often bringing the same plague with them they tried to run from. This placed intense pressure on Germany to sealing borders, despite humanitarian concerns. Again, the numerous dead from denying refuge must be reviewed in the near future.

Things looked grim as SHAPE lost contact to CENTCOM. The United States, the most important ally of the European Union, lost the chain of command for a couple of days as internal vigilantism unleashed unexpected chaos among US citizens. Thankfully cool heads prevailed and restructured command and troops and made contact to SHAPE after nine days again.

Now, three months later, the zombie outbreak appears contained here and across most of Europe, thanks to the bravery and persistence of our forces. Pockets of zombie resistance persist, but 98% of infected humans are estimated neutralized. Vigilance remains necessary, but Europe seems to have survived humanity's greatest existential trial since the Second World War.

For Germany in particular, we judge the zombie crisis to be sufficiently managed at present for cautious stand-down of crisis emergency measures. Our borders can soon partially reopen to allow controlled refugee processing and essential trade. Domestic security restrictions can phase to lower alert levels as well. The nation must transition focus to economic, political and societal recovery.

Internationally, Europe must also now shift priorities from immediate zombie containment to addressing broader upheaval caused by the outbreak. Three priority areas are evident:

1. Strengthening European unity and cohesion after a crisis that sorely tested it.

2. Assisting fragile states elsewhere, especially in the developing world, whose collapse would further destabilize the global order.

3. Asserting Atlantic leadership during a power vacuum created by the breakdown of rules, cooperation and institutions.

Regarding European unity, scepticism toward EU institutions and fellow members undermined early coordinated response when it was needed most. Countries reflexively closed borders, hoarded resources, and pursued unilateral strategies that left allies feeling abandoned. We must learn from this failure and improve mechanisms for collective crisis response.

Germany should support this reform effort by calling for an emergency EU summit to develop legal frameworks for expedited joint-military operations, shared resource allocation, and centralized strategic decision-making during severe cross-border crises. The goal must be empowering collective institutions to make and enforce rules protecting the entire bloc, even over objections from individual members.

Secondly, state collapse in developing regions creates immense humanitarian tragedy and strategic risk. We must urgently provide aid and support to fragile states ravaged by the zombie onslaught and lacking resources for recovery. This includes deployment of military forces for security, public health assistance, and infrastructure reconstruction. Participation in these stabilization efforts will serve our values and national interests.

Looking beyond Europe, the global power vacuum is extremely concerning. As major powers focused internally, traditional geopolitical constraints evaporated. Conflict erupted in the Middle East, Asia, and Africa absent international mediation. Stockpiles of weapons and resources were raided by malicious opportunistic actors. Weak states fell, creating massive outbreaks of zombiefication. Several developing nations and most of their population must be considered completely lost.

Germany should press for emergency sessions of NATO, EU, and UN Security Council to coordinate restoring order. We must reassert our alliances and defend the principles of territorial sovereignty, human rights, and rule of law while adversaries attempt to impose authoritarian models and whole civilizations are literally consumed by Zombies. This will require collective security commitments between trusted allies.

In conclusion, Germany has gotten away with a black eye while surviving the zombie scourge. But new complex challenges have arisen from the ashes that require urgent attention. This briefing outlines recommendations on seizing this historic moment to strengthen European bonds, assist vulnerable allies, and reinforce the resilient democratic values that saved us from annihilation. With sufficient vision and leadership, Germany can help to rebuild international order and contain the dangers still lurking in shadowy corners, as we beat back the zombies from our cities and villages. We must stay vigilant, but hope remains in our hearts.

...

Transcript 02

TOP SECRET/OPERATIONAL ORDER

To: All NATO Forces

From: NATO SHAPE Headquarters, Mons, Belgium

Subject: Operation "RECLAIM ANTWERPEN"

SITUATION:

Antwerpen has been overrun by large hordes of zombies. Critical infrastructure and supply lines through the port have been disrupted. NATO must retake Antwerpen to reopen this vital port and transportation hub.

Multi-national NATO forces are still recovering and reassessing personnel and equipment losses from earlier zombie engagements. Participating NATO countries have volunteered forces to retake Antwerpen as follows:

• Belgium: 1st Battalion Paracommando Brigade staging in Brussels

• France: 3rd Marine Infantry Parachute Regiment staging in Lille

• France: Escadron de Chasse 2/30, staging in Colmar-Meyenheim

• France: 9th Battery, 40th Artillery Regiment, staging in Dunkerque

• Germany: 5th Battery, 131st Artillery Regiment staging in Aachen

• Germany: 291st Jäger Battalion staging in Eindhoven

• Netherlands: 11th Airmobile Brigade staging in Eindhoven

• US: 2nd Cavalry Regiment, Stryker Brigade staging in Chièvres Air Base

MISSION:

NATO will conduct offensive operations beginning on [RETRACTED] to retake Antwerpen from zombie forces.

EXECUTION:

Manoeuvre: Belgian forces will attack north seizing zombie-held areas around the port. Dutch forces will attack east to isolate the city. German forces will attack south to block potential zombie movements. US cavalry Regiment will provide QRF, targeting large zombie formations. French ground and air reserves are on standby.

Fire support: French and German artillery units will fire precision strikes against zombie strong-points. Naval gunfire from Royal Navy ships off the coast will provide additional fire support.

Protection: All forces will maintain disciplinary fire to avoid friendly casualties. US Stryker brigade will act as quick reaction force to counterattack zombie breakthroughs. Engineers will repair bridges and roads to maintain mobility.

Sustainment: Each country will provide national-level logistics support. Medical support will be coordinated by Belgian forces in Brussels.

COMMAND/SIGNAL: Headquarters SHAPE will command overall operation with national contingents retaining tactical control. Communications will utilize NATO classified channels.

Godspeed, soldiers.

---

Addendum 1:

Local civilian informants played a crucial role in scouting the area around Antwerpen prior to the military operation. By gathering intelligence on zombie movements and numbers, as well as identifying potential survivor holdouts, these brave informants provided critical insights that allowed forces to avoid dangerous areas and rescue trapped civilians. Their efforts scoping the battlefield proved invaluable.

Addendum 2:

A resourceful local farmer aided coalition forces using an ingeniously modified combined harvester. By outfitting the vehicle with a harvester header, the farmer was able to mow down scores of zombies with ease. His modified harvester enabled rapid clearance of hordes, paving the way for coalition troops to retake Antwerpen. The farmer's clever innovation and bravery were key factors in the operation's success and should be looked into by NATO Allied Command Transformation (ACT). If I may say so, beware of farmers with tractors, they are subtle and quick to anger.

...

Transcript 04

A video, most likely filmed from the perspective of a hidden camera attached to Putin’s FSB body guard.

Putin is sitting in his office in the Kremlin with Shoigu. Suddenly Putin turns to Shoigu with glassy, unfocused eyes.

Putin (zombie voice): I need brains. Must eat brains.

Putin lunges at Shoigu and bites into his head. Shoigu collapses to the ground.

Several Agents and Kremlin officials rush in.

Official 1 (scared): President Putin has become a zombie!

Official 2 (angry): This is an outrage! Putin can no longer lead Russia in this state.

FSB Agent (arrogant): How dare you criticize the President! He is still our supreme leader. You are under arrest!

Putin shambles around the room, blood dripping from his mouth.

Putin (zombie voice): I am leader of all zombies. Give me brains!

The officials argue about who should donate his brain next while Putin devours one after the other. When no one is left the FSB agent defects to the west and sells the recording to CNN.

The troll factories of St. Petersburg are trying to spin the story that Putin did not become a zombie, that this is a lie from the decadent West, that their beloved leader instead just wants to fully savour the minds of his people.

---

Meanwhile near Bakhmut, Zelenskyy is watching footage of the Kremlin scene on his phone.

Zelenskyy (ice cold, grim voice): I'm not even surprised.

Zelenskyy puts on his earbuds, listening to ‘Judas Priest Painkiller’, grabs a chainsaw and starts fighting off Russian zombies alongside Ash Williams, Alice Abernathy, Daryl Dixon, Tallahassee and Cherry Darling, defending the hills over Bakhmut.

...

Transcript 05

Excerpt from r/jokes and r/ukraine:

Why did nobody realize Putin was a zombie? Because he had been dead inside for years.

Why did Putin's speeches start sounding more disjointed and zombie-like?

Because he was trying to appeal to his undead base.

Why did Putin suddenly start wearing sunglasses all the time?

Because his eyes were now permanently bloodshot from all the brain-eating.

Why did Putin's enemies stop calling him a dictator?

Because they thought he was now just a "dead-tator".

Why did Putin get kicked out of the zombie club? Because he kept trying to annex their territories.

Why did Putin's zombie followers start to lose faith in him?

Because he kept insisting on a "one brain, one vote" policy.

Why did Putin's doctor never realize he was a zombie?

Because he always had a pulse...on his political opponents.

Why did Putin's chef never realize Putin became a zombie?

Because he always has asked for his steak "rare and bloody".

Why did Putin's zombie meet with Zelenskyy? To ask if Ukraine had a brains-for-oil program.

Why did Putin's zombie meet with Zelenskyy?

To suggest a new horror movie plot: "Zombie President vs. Comedian-in-Chief".

Why did Putin's zombie meet with Lukaschenka?

To discuss the possibility of a joint invasion of "Brainland".

Why did Putin become a zombie?

Because he thought it would be a great way to "reanimate" his political career.

Why did Putin become a zombie?

Because he realized that he could finally eat his opponents' brains legally.

Why did Putin become a zombie?

To prove that he's not afraid to "sink his teeth" into the tough issues facing Russia.

...

Transcript 13

The evening News from TaiwanTV with Yeh Chou!

China's brave scientists are working day and night to find an antidote to the zombie virus that is threatening to overrun the mainland. Two million Chinese citizens turn into zombies every day, but China's leaders refuse to use the proven German antidote.

According to government officials, the German solution developed by those arrogant long-noses would be a loss of face for China. Instead, Chinese scientists are experimenting with traditional herbal remedies and acupuncture to stop the zombie plague. So far there have been no reports of success.

Meanwhile here in Taiwan, we have rolled out a massive and efficient vaccination program using the German antidote. Thanks to well-organized distribution and lines that move quickly, Taiwanese citizens have showed their patriotism by lining up en masse to get the zombie shot.

Experts forecast that at this rapid pace, the entire Taiwanese population may be immune to the zombie virus within two months! Our economy has not suffered any major disruptions due to zombie outbreaks and civil unrest. Life goes on as normal here in Taiwan.

It seems China's pride may cost them dearly as the zombie outbreak rages on unchecked. Perhaps they should swallow their national ego and get the proven vaccine before most of their citizens become the walking dead! Only time will tell if China's ancient herbal cures can compete with modern science in the fight against this zombie apocalypse. Stay tuned to TaiwanTV for further humorous commentary on China's noble but potentially disastrous zombie experiment!

...

Transcript 14

COSMIC TOP SECRET/STRATEGIC OVERVIEW

To: NATO Council

From: NATO Military Committee

Subject: Strategic Overview of the world wide zombie outbreak

SITUATION:

The global zombie outbreak continues to spread but some regions have managed to contain the situation.

North America, Western Europe, Australia and New Zealand have implemented successful defences through vaccination and military operations.

Japan and South Korea, with assistance from U.S. and Taiwanese forces, have pushed back large numbers of North Korean zombies apparently deployed deliberately by the Kim regime.

Columbia remains the last organized holdout in South America withstanding zombie hordes from the southern parts of the continent with support incoming from Canada, Mexico and the US by the hour.

Africa has been completely overrun, with zombie numbers in the hundreds of millions ravaging the continent. EU and Arab coalition forces have established strongholds at the narrow land bridge to the Arabian subcontinent.

The situation in Asia is deteriorating rapidly. Only pockets of resistance remain as zombie numbers climb.

Ukraine, Belarus, and the Kaliningrad region have joined the NATO council and are helping Russian separatist forces to defend St. Petersburg from millions of zombies moving from Central Asia toward NATO borders. Russian President Putin still appears to be in power in much of Russia, even though rumours suggest that he got some weird appetite while his health is visibly deteriorating.

Africa has experienced a total breakdown of civilization and must be considered a lost cause beyond any hope of recovery due to the sheer size of zombie populations.

The use of nuclear weapons is no longer rejected given the hundreds of millions of zombies posing an existential threat. Precision strategic strikes may be necessary to neutralize zombie hordes in key locations.

In summary, the global situation remains dire. While some regions have stabilized through vaccination and military force, zombie numbers continue to climb in Parts of Asia, most of South America and Africa. Containment will require an international coalition effort utilizing all means necessary.

While some progress has been made containing the initial zombie outbreak, we must recognize this crisis is far from over and likely to escalate further in the coming months. We have only a limited time to prepare for the worst.

MISSION:

We demand a massive increase in wartime industrial production to supply our military forces. Makeshift militias must be incorporated into regular support units and mandatory conscription of all able-bodied adults up to two years is strongly recommended.

A coordinated international effort must urgently ramp up scientific research and technology development to fight the zombie virus at its source. This includes more effective vaccines, antiviral treatments, and detection methods.

The construction of additional crematoriums and disposal facilities is critical to destroy the bodies of neutralized zombies and eliminate the risk of further infection.

No country has been spared from this plague. We have already suffered millions of casualties worldwide:

• No reliable Numbers for China and Russia due to complete news blackout.

• At least one billion dead in Africa, possibly a complete extinction event.

• 300 million dead in Asia, possibly much higher, large pocket resistance holding out

• 100 million dead in South America, possibly much higher, disorganized resistance holding out

• 45 million dead in North America

• 35 million dead in Europa outside Russia

• less than 100,000 dead in Australia, New Zealand, Taiwan, Japan.

These numbers will continue to climb exponentially without drastic and coordinated global action. We are in a race against time. Nations must come together, putting aside differences, to mount a full scale war effort against the zombie horde threatening to consume humanity.

We at NATO pledge to work with all allies willing to do whatever is necessary to defend life and civilization itself. The hardest days lie ahead, but with unity of purpose and relentless resolve, we can prevail.

Now is the time for mankind to look danger in the eye, stand as one, and fight for our very survival as a species. The alternative is too horrific to contemplate. The fate of humanity rests upon our collective response in the coming months. We must rise to this challenge with courage, conviction and unrelenting will.

EXECUTION:

• Coordinate shipments of industrial materials and supplies between member nations to avoid bottlenecks and shortages. Joint Support Enabling Command (JSEC) can identify which countries have surplus production capacity of key materials and match them with countries that need those materials.

• Provide funding and incentives for businesses to rapidly expand production lines for critical military equipment like armoured vehicles, body armour, weapons, ammunition, communication devices, and medical supplies. Allied Command Acquisition (ACA) can identify which companies have the ability to scale up fastest and prioritize contracts.

• National temporarily relax regulations around work hours, shift lengths, and hiring to allow businesses to operate at maximum output. The pro-Western allies can also coordinate the sharing of skilled labour between countries.

• Invest in automation and modernization of production facilities to maximize output. The allies can share and optimize research and development funds to provide grants for businesses to upgrade factories and incorporate things like robotics and 3D printing.

• Provide grants and funding for scientific research related to understanding and combating the zombie virus. This includes research into the virus's origin, spread, genetic makeup, and potential cures or treatments. The WHO can coordinate a consortium of scientists and researchers from member nations.

• Organize collaboration between pharmaceutical companies, biotech startups, government research agencies and universities to accelerate development of antiviral drugs, vaccines and diagnostic tests. The WHO can facilitate sharing of data, resources and intellectual property.

• Construct new research laboratories, provide additional funding and expedite approvals/permits for research projects with potential to combat the outbreak. The WHO leadership must make combating the virus the top scientific priority.

...

Transcript 15

The sweltering African sun beat down unforgivingly as Kudzo and Akosua walked, hand in hand, along the dusty road. Kudzo looked at Akosua with a smile as they spotted the border to the Arabian Peninsula, the towering fortifications already visible in the distance, a feeling of hope in the air.

Akosua returned the smile but suddenly she caught a glims of movement!

"Kudzo, over there!"

Dozens of rotting, cadaverous figures were staggering behind them, flesh hanging in decaying tatters from their bones.

"Run for your life!" Kudzo cried as the young couple took flight towards the towering fortifications in the distance.

As they fled, the horde of zombies grew inevitably, becoming hundreds, then thousands, maybe millions, filling the horizon like a swarm of pestilence liquid flesh. Akosua was already exhausted from the arduous journey, close to breaking down, dragged along by Kudzo.

Reaching the fortress walls, they begged the soldiers above to let them in, the horde closing in fast. For precious seconds nothing happened, most soldiers just turned away, avoiding their pledge. But finally an officer saw their youth and ordered for the gates to be opened, violating standing orders.

Only a moment before the couple was overrun by the rotten horde the soldiers unleashed a storm of bullets from their fortifications, cutting down masses of zombies. Yet more kept coming, an endless tide of corruption.

Kudzo and Akosua slipped through the gates as a few zombies followed, bringing Kudzo to fall, biting into his flesh as Akosua screamed a cry of anguish that rent the very heavens.

Quickly some soldiers rushed over and slaughtered the zombies with knifes and bayonets while the gates swung shut, sealing out damnation.

A summoned medic gazed upon Kudzo's ravaged body, while tears like crystal raindrops streamed down Akosua's cheeks. "He'll become one of them!" she sobbed broken-heartedly.

The medic applied several injections at the bleeding Kudzo, tended his wounds.

“We know how to handle this. We got the meds and a field hospital not far from here. And he is a tough fighter."

Meanwhile, the battle outside escalated, the sound of guns atop the wall became a never-ending storm of din. But when it suddenly stopped everybody knew the worst was yet to come, an alarm siren wailed its doleful song.

"Protective nuclear strike!" the medic screamed! Suddenly everybody began running, the soldiers jumped from the wall, hurried and fumbled into bunkers and trenches.

The medic pulled Kudzo and Akosua into an crudely dug underground cave as the ground trembled from nuclear hate just outside the wall, the bright light shadowing over the wall into the sky over-shining the very sun, shattering their world.

After what seemed like eternity, the shaking subsided. The medic forced a grin. "Sorry about the little nuclear war outside. I'm Rajab. And you?"

Akosua began to weep bitter tears anew. "I'm Akosua. This is Kudzo. Are there other survivors?"

Rajab smile faded. He gazed sorrowfully at Kudzo's wounds then at Akosua's tear-stained face. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "You were the only ones for weeks and what came in your wake robs me of all hope. I wish there was more I could do to ease your mind. But at least you are alive. And by Allah the Almighty, I will give my best to keep your friend alive too."

...

Transcript 16

Six years later. John Stilton sits outside his little wooden hut in the middle of nowhere, enjoying a little moon shine from a plastic bottle.

“Look at that… haven’t seen any Stinker for two years..” he mumbled as a pale creatures stumbled aimlessly towards him. He pulled his 45er out of his holster and took aim.

“Hold it John!” the spindly creature wailed “It is me, Bob Fraser. Did we win?”

John held the gun upwards and secured it, not believing his own eyes for a moment.

“What do you mean with ‘did we win’? Have you been living under a rock? Where have you been all these years?”

Bob falls into the chair next to John. John nonchalantly offers him the plastic bottle with the moon shine. Bob took a big swig, he found words again.

“I have been hiding after Chicago fell. I had a bunker and I had guns and food and shit… I ran out of food a week ago. What happened? Did the government collapse? Who is ruling the world now? What happened?”

John looked angry a Bob.

“You hid in a fucking hole and let others do the dirty work? Fuck you Bob. You are an asshole. We others stood together, we stood tall. We fought, we bleed, we suffered. But we prevailed! Nothing collapsed. It was the very foundations our ancestors build which kept us afloat. It was our allies sharing their wisdom, It was brave men and woman defending the weak. Together.”

John turned to Bob, glared at the dull pale creature next to him, the creature which looked more like a zombie than a breathing human.

“BOB WE FUCKING WON AFTER TWO YEARS. And you fucking hid in a dirty little hole shitting your pants for another four years. You are a spineless idiot.”

Bob remained silent. Took another swig from the bottle and nodded.

“How has live been for you?” wondered Bob.

“Been stationed at Columbia for half a year. Shooting Stinkers for a while, taking care of survivors. Later my Battalion moved down the south coast, supplying resistance pockets, down to Tierra del Fuego. A beautiful wild land. Met my future son-in-law down there. He he joined us, we became good friends, after we were done south he stood at my house for half a year, getting his feet back on the ground. He wooed my daughter, returned to Tierra del Fuego, started a new life with my daughter down there. He still shots Stinkers from time to time but his cattle farm is doing well. A very solitude life though, not many survived in the South.”

“How bad was it?”

“Billions. Billions dead. Africa has been practically sterilized and is resettled by Arabs and Europeans. The European Union is now claiming a third of Africa and a third of Russia. South America has still millions of Zombies hidden in the Amazonas, no one dares to venture there. Half of the population dead, no nation structures existing any more, lots of settlers pouring in from North- and Middle-America, claiming the empty lands and declaring new nations. Central Asia, Russia, most of China, half of India gone. The Europeans and Chinese nearly went nuclear about the Siberian oil fields. In the end some Russian warlords had stolen enough nukes to be taken serious and claimed Siberia and gathered around 500.000 remaining Russkis around them.

The rest of the territory is free to grab for the first settlers. Most interestingly even Chinese settlers align to the EU. Not much love for a Chinese government refusing to use a perfectly good vaccine for stupid reasons. Oh, and the US put up some military outposts and claims around Kamchatka. No one wants to live there but better have and not need than need and not have. All in all the death toll was brutal. But now… so many opportunities. I mean a third of the world is now free to grab. Most tyrants and oligarchs collapsed. Whatever is left nowadays are the hardcore die-hard who know the value of having a trusted mate protecting your back. The economy is bustling, there are good jobs everywhere.”

“But you are staying here in the Rockies?”

“Guess so. I am 65. I’ll just enjoy my last days with good booze and fresh game in the wonderful Rockies. How about you?”

“Is my farm still around?”

“Nope. You have been considered dead and it was torn down. But I guess if you go south you will easily find an abandoned Hacienda somewhere in Argentine. You are still young enough to start anew. Are you 50? 51? How about marrying again?”

“Something like that. Too bad I wasted so much time hiding in a hole.”

“Bob?”

“Yes?”

“I am happy you are still alive, mate.”

Authors notes

These texts resulted from a discussion with a misanthropic prepper (“when the apocalypse comes I hide in my basement with my gun and tons of canned food”) and a writing prompt I came over a couple of weeks before. I don’t claim it is something special, I just did it because I was in the mood.

I used the topic to experiment with AI-supported writing. Either I let AI improve my texts or I gave the AI very long and elaborated prompts to generate the text. That way I wanted to test how I could use different writing styles. Still around 50% of the text is hand made or heavily edited AI content. As may be obvious I also used different models and infrastructure prompts. To my surprise the list of Putin jokes is 100% ChatGPT and still funny.

I could have done it without ChatGPT but it would have taken a lot longer and it allowed me to try out LOTS OF different aspects, locations, writing styles, drama, humour, scientific analysis, military briefing, whatever… all in just four hours of writing. And it was an interesting experience, I might from now on always use AI at least for quality assurance.

After the crushing defeat marking the end to the 2. Human-Illirian War the United Illirian Planets disbanded Humanity's military forces leaving only intra-system police and customs crafts as well as, after long protests by the Solarian temporary government, one warship to guard Voyager 1, continuing a 500-year-long tradition.

The following decades saw Humanity's integration into the Council of Species, helped along by massive economic aids, in a large part from the UIP turning these old enemies into close economic allies.

150 years later the Council of Species faces a threat unlike any before.

"And now to the last item on today's agenda, proposal 54748, the reactivation of Humanity's military forces, brought forward by the United Illirian Planets. First, let's hear First Speaker Ullioid of the United Illirian Planets."

"Thank you, president. With the enemy closing in from the galactic center we need any military forces possible to fight back. Leaving an economic power as huge as the Solarian Republic untapped is simply bad strategy. Our Human friends have shown their trustworthiness and honor over the last century. We believe it is time to remove the last traces of a conflict long over and let them fight on our side in this new conflict."

"Thank you, First Speaker. Now let us discuss... Yes, King Kaskart the 110th."

"Thank you, president. I don't see how granting the Humans the right to create their own military will bring us any benefit so late into the war, the..."

"It is hardly late yet! The war may as well continue..."

"The Humans can't be trusted. 150 years aren't nearly enough time to..."

"Please return to order. Let King..."

For the next hours the Council of Species descended into controlled chaos. At any given point, multiple voices could be heard trying to be louder than the next, yet never too many for a careful listener to gather all the major points.

After the discussion quieted down, the president took the word again. "Now that everyone could voice their thoughts, let us hear the ones this affects most. If you would, President Josef Schmidt of the Solarian Republic."

"Thank you, president. First let me thank the United Illirian Planets for the trust placed in us in the name of all Solarian Citizens and all other Humans scattered across council space. It is hard to explain how proud and happy we are to be seen as friends and allies after all the atrocities in our shared past. For the future, all we wish for is to prosper together with all other members of the Council of Species. Letting us help in the war will surely be remembered as a historic point marking a new era of cooperation by all our descendants."

"Thank you, President. Some of our council members have expressed concerns about your loyalty towards the council once the war is over."

"The Solarian Republic is not the same as the United Nations of Earth in our history books. The Solarian Republic was part of the Council of Species since its foundation and will stay till its end!"

"Thank you. There are concerns about the strategic gains in the current war by creating additional drain on our resources by creating a whole new military."

"Supplying existing forces takes, of course, priority over creating new forces, however, we have large ship building and refitting capabilities, which, while unable to build true warships, will be able to produce a fleet of armed transports to make sure our supplies will reach your forces at the front line. And let's not forget our sole warship Mountain guarding Voyager 1, which ended up quite large since we only have one."

"Thank you, President. The council will now commence the first vote."

---

One almost (the Tertretan people are undisputed masters of holding grudges) unanimous vote later near Argos IV.

The rail gun ship Moon Lancer, Royal Kaskart Navy, shook rhythmically every ten seconds, firing its twenty rails one after the other into the nearly empty void. Moon Lancer was far behind the actual battlefield along the orbit of Argos V, a gas giant not unlike Jupiter, coordinating the frantic efforts to keep the enemy at bay until the evacuation of the inner planets would be finished.

Officer Kertrek, Long range Sensor Station 2.

"Another 8 Drops, 5 light hours, in plane, 65°. 2 battleship size, 6 cruiser. Designate Zeta 5. Heading towards Argos VI."

"Hah, lucky guy!", came from behind him.

"What?"

"You got number 1000!", his colleague Officer Brekun, Long range sensor station 1, shouted over the thump signaling another titanium round leaving the ship.

"Didn't Senkrat get the thousandth?"

"Nah, identification, just one battleship, not 5 Transports. Hey, think we reach 2000?"

"I bet they have enough ships for that. Just hope... Wait."

Kertrek reached over to the microphone activator, "Another drop, 4 light hours, in plane, 350°. Moon size, wait, what?! Oh. Oh Fuck. Correction, one planet size. Designate Zeta 6. Heading towards Argus IV." Click.

"The fuck is planet size?"

"Too big for moon!"

"There's no upper limit for moon!"

"Radius of over 6000km?"

"Fuck! That large? Guess that works."

"Great, now let.. Oh no."

Click, "Counting dozens of new objects around Zeta 6. Battleship size. Same trajectory." Click.

"Bridge to LRS 2, confirm planet size object heading towards Argus IV.", sounds from Kertreks terminal.

Click, "Confirming planet size object heading towards Argus IV. Object is accelerating. Over 100 Battleship size on same trajectory." Click.

"Hah, bridge doesn't believe it either. You sure... Ah, wait.", Click, "Five drops..."

---

The flag bridge had descended into utter madness, a planet-sized object accelerating under its own power with any meaningful speed wasn't just unheard of; it was generally considered physically impossible.

During the chaos, Communications Officer Perham was busy organizing the patrols screening the evacuation transports when the computer forwarded a message to her terminal:

"This is Captain Arthur of the warship Mountain, Solarian Navy. You've probably spotted us already, it's the moving planet. Chuckles We have one warship with more firepower than most moon defense bases and 200 battleship sized fighters. How can we be of assistance?"

---

A surprisingly short battle later on a secure channel between admiral Krigsten of the RKN and captain Arthur of the SN.

"So tell me, where you got that thing and a whole fleet to accompany it? Until two weeks ago you had no navy at all."

"Ah, but we don't have a fleet; this is just our single warship guarding Voyager 1. For the time being, we simply entrusted local law enforcement with keeping it safe."

"Pretty sure that's way past a warship."

"But it is one, we have followed galactic law by the letter: 'Humanity may guard their historic probe Voyager 1 with a single warship, which may deploy a maximum of 200 fighters.' Mountain is a warship as defined by the council. 'A warship is a starship primarily built for military actions' and a starship being 'any fully artificial structure capable of independent maneuvering at sublightspeed as well as in hyperspace.'"

"You want to tell me that is not a planet you covered under a kilometer of steel but an actual steel planet?"

"Yeah, makes the initial construction a bit harder, but the payoff is so worth it. Want to know the size of our primary reactor?"

"No, I'm good."

"It's larger than your flagship. And we have over ten."

"Ugh. Thanks."

"Haven't told you about our fighters yet."

"No need to, I'm getting the picture."

"Turns out, by council definition, you can turn everything into a fighter by removing the hyperspace drive and placing the hangar on a military installation."

"Are you done?"

"You want to hear more?"

"No."

"Then yes."

"Great."

"We had built a second one in case we needed a replacement. It'll be here in a week."

---

One of my favorites I posted over on r/hfy before.

Part 1 | Part 2

Entry Sixteen

I suppose the entry before this must seem quite hysterical. It was not the numbers alone which disturbed me, and the others of the delegation. The human ambassador told me once that “necessity is the mother of invention.” These people need a means of controlling their population so badly that the first thing some of us did when we returned to privacy was propose that they be given a working FTL drive and the coordinates of a world they could inhabit and we could not.

Of course the Ambassador rejected that foolishness. I approve. What unnerved me so deeply was that the humans seem to be capable of surviving so much that we could not. I do not, of course, speak of solar radiation. A little extra stellar radiation could be compensated. These, however, are a warlike people. That was my impression when first we met, and my opinion has not wavered.

Yet, they coexist in tight groups in most of their population centers, their colonies were made of a mix of people that their nature states they could not tolerate, and their culture overcomes fractious divides so fast…we nearly kill them off, and then, not sixty days after the event, those who continue to demand that we suffer retribution are labeled – OPENLY! – by their leaders as deluded. If these people had developed FTL drives on their own, we would have met them on the edges of our own territory, I am sure. We would have met as friends. But we would have met as equals, when we are currently not. I should not be so disturbed by that thought. Yet I am.

Entry Seventeen

Two hundred seventy days gone by. The human ambassador has become more and more reluctant to divulge information about his own people to us, even as he shows us around his homeworld and pours more and more data about his species into our computers, for our analysts to devour.

He answers every question we ask him, yet he divulges less and less in the way of specifics. Oddly enough, he actually seems far more relaxed in our presence than he was when we met. He showed up in a completely different set of clothing than the type he usually wears today, lacking the odd cloth around his neck. I wonder why?

Entry Eighteen

We returned to Earth today, and I am far more impressed this time than I let myself be last time. The human ambassador this time took us to what seems to be a site of great importance to his people: a building in one of their largest cities called the UN Headquarters.

The building, I mean, not the city. We spoke to a panel of two hundred human ambassadors, each representing a human nation or extra-planetary colony. We answered questions, and had our images captured by their media, through a very thick-looking defensive device. When I asked why we were being defended, the human ambassador’s aide told me that it was for our own protection from those humans who did not appreciate our presence here as much as they should.

I was touched by this, though apparently this is not at all unusual. We spoke to many of these diplomats, and I came away with the feeling that many had wanted to ask far more questions than they had been able to, out of a sense of propriety. Our own Ambassador told me that he thought it was to prevent any sort of insult, but I was not sure. Some of the human ambassadors seemed outright angry at our presence, and several were apparently restrained from outburst only by their peers’ angry gestures.

I think it has something to do with the nearly groveling request the human chief ambassador gave to us on the very first day: not to even decrypt, let alone translate, a single one of the millions of messages sent to our ship, directly or otherwise, that did not bear his signature.

Entry Nineteen

Three hundred solar days have passed since the humans replied to our communications. We hold meetings on their planet as often as we do in space now. I am pleased by this, in all honestly. There is a strange appeal to these people that was simply not there when we first met. One particularly unguarded conversation with a human diplomatic aide produced an interesting result.

The young woman said that she and many others were raised on fiction involving humanity playing the defender against unexplained or meaningless alien invasion, or playing the victim of some horrible, incomprehensible force of destruction, and the thought that life beyond their own system would be friendly and share the virtue of self-sacrifice was a vast relief. I had never considered this.

Most species in this galaxy, we find, are very open with us immediately, or at least after a very brief period of distrust. These people did not trust us beyond discussion until we had offered our lives to save their planet, yet it seemed that we had achieved more in that act of proposed sacrifice than we had realized. These humans do, however, place too much emphasis on propriety for the sake of propriety.

I do hope this woman does not come to reprimand because of our entirely unofficial exchange. The ambassador of the humans has certainly been making more and more of an effort to control what we see and hear of these people the more time we spend with them.

Entry Twenty

I understand fully now why the human ambassador was trying to restrict our communications. The ship’s crew, not a part of our diplomatic efforts, have been covertly compiling and translating vast amounts of the messages directed to our ship, without our approval.

We have been exposed to their indirect communications, of course – we discovered them through the presence of their first radio transmissions, after all – and we have tapped their system-wide information networks, but the unauthorized communications directed to us, specifically, have been politely ignored and untranslated, thanks almost entirely to the human ambassador’s fervent pleas.

The crew of the ship, however, have found that some of these signals contain messages of such hate and vitriol, such murderous rage and terrorized accusations, that had I not spent over three hundred local days immersing myself in their culture, I could have mistaken it for a declaration of war. The human ambassador has much to answer for.

---

To be continued...

Part 1 | Part 2

Thanks to u/Prohibitorum for original transcription. Original Image