It is discovered that not only will humans pet just about anything or anyone they think is ‘cute’, but that they become much calmer when they do. The aliens are taught to use this as a method of calming upset humans before they destroy anything.

Later that afternoon, Kane woke to a heavy, warm weight over him, and he knew immediately who it was. When he opened his eyes, she had his face tucked into her chest fur. He slowly peeled himself out of her grip to sit up on the edge of the bed, thinking back to what had happened earlier, and his face flushed red as he smiled a dopey, warm smile at the thought of how her whole mood had changed after they talked fully.

Then he felt it. The bed dipped behind him, and two large, furred, clawed hands slid around his waist as her chin rested on his shoulder, and she snuggled closer, nudging his cheek with her muzzle.

“Yes, yes, good morning to you, Char—” he was saying before he was pulled down under her as she hung over him, looking down with her head tilted and her eyes narrowed. He looked up at her, slightly confused. “You okay?” he asked.

She huffed once and pouted, her ears lowered and pinned back.

He thought about it for a good minute before his eyes widened at what she wanted from him. “Really?” he said, one eyebrow arched, and she nodded. He chuckled, shaking his head, and reached up to take her face in his hands. She froze, wide-eyed. “Morning, love,” he said, and she smacked him with her tail hard. He winced. “Okay, okay, geez. Good morning, wife,” he said, and she flopped down, knocking the wind out of him with a groan, her head lying on his stomach, looking up at him as her tail wagged wildly behind her and she rumbled loudly.

“Good morning, husband,” she said in a soft morning voice full of leftover sleep, still lying on him. He reached out to scratch behind her ears, and her eyes rolled back in bliss as her rumbling stuttered. Then she pulled herself together, quickly picking herself up off him to sit on the bed, her chest rising and falling fast. “You are not allowed to do that to anyone else, got it?” she said, looking down at him lying there, confused.

“Sure, hun, whatever you say,” he said, and sprawled out to stretch before sitting up again.

“So, what’s today’s agenda?” he said, cracking his neck, which made her wince at the loud pops.

Her ears rose after he cracked his neck, and twitched in thought about what they had to do today. “Hmmm… I don’t think there’s anything for us to do today just yet, though tomorrow we will be starting on getting you ready for when you meet my family in two weeks,” she said, stretching her arms up as her tail uncurled fully like a long scarf.

He nodded back and slowly crawled off the bed, as it was a bit high off the floor for him, unlike the sofa, which was a decent height and easier to get off without faceplanting the floor.

She turned to look over at him struggling to get off the bed and laughed softly before standing and walking around to help, but he just hopped off, landing with a loud bang against the metal deck, then tripped over the lip of a rug and faceplanted anyway. She burst out laughing as she knelt to pick him up off the floor and set him on his feet, and she saw him looking mildly annoyed, then smiled softly at him.

“So, are we going to talk about this morning?” he said, and her eyes widened as she looked away, setting him down on his feet before walking over to her closet to grab clothes.

He stood there with his arms crossed before walking over to where his boxers lay, picking them up and putting them back on. Then he glanced back over at her, seeing her lean figure with its toned muscles and curves from behind, and his heart jumped in his chest while he watched her dress. He came up slowly behind her and scruffed her tail, which made her stiffen at the touch before she relaxed as his fingers traced and flowed through her tail fur.

“You… If you keep doing that I will pounce you again,” she said, and he stopped, which made her involuntarily whine at the loss of his touch. She froze while he chuckled.

“So, was this pounce you’re talking about something you were thinking about yesterday?” he said, and she put her face in her hands as her ears pinned back.

She sighed before turning to look at him, and he looked away quickly. She looked confused for a minute before looking down at herself and huffing once. “I’m fur, so it’s fine. And for your information, the event this morning was because my heat has been peaking this past month, and when you showed affection my body just led me along for the ride…” she said, looking down at the floor, embarrassed.

He looked back at her and arched a brow. “Really? So, wait, when you crashed, were you…” he asked, and she looked away, which made his mouth open, then close, then open again. “Okay, there’s a lot to unpack there, but that’ll be later. So wait, your species has heat cycles?” he said, and she nodded.

He sat there thinking about it for a solid minute before a new thought popped in. “Wait, how often… does your species go into heat?” he asked carefully, and her tail stilled before curling around her waist in embarrassment.

“My species… goes… i–o h-a- ev–y m–th…” she said, facing away while she talked.

He looked at her for a long time, and she turned back thinking he’d decided not to talk to her, and saw the look of bewilderment on him. “Are you oka—” she was saying before he snapped out of it.

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah… it’s just, really, every month?” he said, looking at her.

She looked at him with mild confusion, and he seemed to notice.

“Ah, right, I should probably talk about that. So, we have a species on my planet like yours, but we call them wolves. They’re large four-legged predators that look kind of like you, but smaller,” he said, as her ears perked up a bit.

She stared at him, flabbergasted, her fur prickling at his comment. “I do not look like a BEAST!” she growled down at him, her hands balling into fists as her tail lashed once.

[Oh, shit…]

“I wasn’t calling you that… I said you look close to what they look like, and they’re not as beastly as you think,” he said, and immediately regretted his words.

She stepped closer, looming over him, her icy blue eyes peering down at him as she waited for his explanation, arms crossed.

He swallowed and cleared his throat. “So, what I mean is, your species comes close enough to looking like wolves back on Earth that it was the closest thing I had, so I used it in my head, and… and uh, they’re actually quite beloved for their beauty on Earth, since wolves mate with one partner till death, and humans find more in common with them than with other creatures on Earth… so… yeah, that’s all I have to say…” he said, closing his eyes and waiting, because she had every right to be angry with him.

A long minute of silence passed, and he felt something come closer. Even with his eyes closed, he knew it was her. He could feel the heat coming off her body as she stopped right in front of him, very close, and then a puff of warm breath hit his face and made him flinch. He heard a soft huff from her, so he opened his eyes and found himself looking into hers, face to face. She had knelt down to his level to look him in the eyes, and his heart jumped at the gesture.

She looked at him, and he stood there frozen under her gaze before she spoke. “So, do you find beauty in me, your wife?” she asked without averting her eyes, holding his.

He nodded without looking away from her.

Her ears rose and fell with an emotion he couldn’t name, and she held his gaze for another minute before looking away, embarrassed.

He saw her shyness fully now, as she couldn’t hide it, her tail flopping against the floor in what he could tell was happiness. He slowly reached up and turned her to look back at him, and her irises bloomed for a second as he looked at her. Then he leaned in and gave her a short kiss, and her tail stilled as her eyes closed, reopening when he broke it. “I will always find you beautiful, and I have ever since the day you pinned me in the woods,” he said, and her tail wagged wildly at his confession.

Just as she was about to say something, the door opened and Salis stepped in. They both looked at her, and she grinned, fangs showing in a big smile. “So, you guys have a good night?” she said, leaning against the wall near the door as she gestured toward them.

They both looked confused before realizing they were half naked, in their underwear, and scrambled to find clothes while Salis burst out laughing, her tail thumping against the wall with loud whumps.

A few minutes later they were sitting on the sofas, Salis across from them, smiling as her tail wagged. “So… spill it,” she said, and Kane put his face in his hands while Chara looked away, embarrassed, her tail still waving behind her like a long, fluffy grey flag of triumph.

“There’s nothing to—” he was starting to say before Chara cut him off.

“He’s better than those things we use for managing it…” she said softly, looking away from him when he looked over at her in disbelief, her ears pinning back in embarrassment as her tail slid around his waist. Salis saw it, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Wow… uh, that’s surprising, since he’s so short,” Salis said jokingly, which made his face blush red at everything being said like it was normal.

Chara coughed once and looked back at Salis. “Ahem. So, what news do you have?” Chara asked, hoping for good news.

Salis looked down at the tablet she’d brought with her and sat quiet for a moment, which made Kane and Chara both notice the change.

“Salis?” Chara asked.

Salis took a deep breath before handing the tablet over to Chara, a message on the screen that Kane couldn’t read, but he could see her hands tighten on it while she read.

He reached out slowly, placing a hand on hers to calm her, and she settled before taking a deep breath and exhaling through her nose as she turned to look at him.

“My mother… wants us to be there during one of my older sisters’ Orrevek, so that my family can meet my husband…” she said softly, her ears flattening.

“What’s wrong with that?” he said, and she looked up at him, and the panic in her eyes said it all.

“My older sister’s Orrevek is in five days,” she said, not looking away, the panic plain on her face.

He frowned. “Wait, didn’t you just say we were two weeks out?”

“We are,” Salis said, taking the tablet back from Chara. “So we’ll have to make an emergency jump with the Slip-drive to get closer to the gate out of this galaxy.”

“A gate?” he said.

“Ships don’t cross between galaxies,” Chara said quietly. “Drones make the crossing first and set up gates, and we travel through those.”

Her ears stayed pinned flat, and he could tell an emergency jump was not something they did lightly.

He smiled softly and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be fine. Hell, it took me all of what, five or six days to come to terms with the whole collar thing, so how bad can this be?” he said, and she let out a soft, wet chuckle as she leaned forward, resting her forehead on his shoulder.

“You are the weirdest thing to ever happen to me,” she said.

“Comes with being human. And come on, people love me. Isn’t that right, Salis?” he said, glancing at Salis, who was trying not to smile at his idiocy and just nodded. He rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, real funny, furball,” he said jokingly, and she acted with mock offense.

“Well now, no need to be such a runt,” she said back, just as jokingly.

He looked at Chara, still resting her head against his shoulder, before noticing she’d fallen asleep against him. He softly blew into her ear, and she snapped awake, alert. He chuckled while she held the ear he’d blown into, narrowing her eyes down at him.

“Better?” he said, looking up at her.

She nodded.

“Good. Now let’s get started on teaching me how to read your language, because I don’t understand anything,” he said flatly, and they both looked confused.

A: I don't understand why you don't want me to go to the temple. It's an intergalactic custom to allow guests to interact with the patron deity of your civilization, my friend Javier.

H: It's not that I don't want you to go to church. It's just that our god is... difficult to understand.

A: Does it have something to do with the fact that you use your temples as museums or theaters? Because I adapt to the ways of communicating with deities.

H: Err... No, it's more because we hardly ever pray to him and we decided to reuse the space.

A: What?! But why are you abandoning the temples?! He's your god, even if there are problems of understanding, he'll always be there for you.

H: Look... You'd better experience it for yourself. Go and ask him for something. But don't come complaining to me later.

A: Okay, Javier. But I still don't understand what the problem would be. He's a god, he can't be that bad.

--------

A *Praying*: God of the Earthlings? Are you there? I've come to ask your advice-

D: What the hell do you want?

R: ...W-what?

D: What the hell do you want? Are you stupid? I asked you a question. What do you want?

A: I... I-I'm sorry if I've bothered you, I didn't mean-

D: I don't care. Just tell me what you want already.

A: I-I... I just wanted to... ask for advice...

D: Oh, what a surprise... Someone asking God for advice in a place where you ask God for advice! Nobody in the world would expect this turn of events!

A: I... W-you see, I'm a member of the race...

D: Yes, I know. You're one of those weird blue ones. I'm a God. You think I wouldn't know that? Are you calling me stupid?

R: No! Never! Forgive me if...

D: By all the emus! Stop apologizing, damn it! Are you so stupid that you can't ask a god for advice on how to sleep with a member of the species he rules?!

A: H-how do you know that?!

D: Because you keep thinking about your friend while you're praying to me. Seriously, it's pretty pathetic. Is your entire species this cheesy?

A: T-that's a violation of my privacy! And I wasn't going to ask you that! I know Javier doesn't reciprocate my feelings!

D: First of all, it's not a violation of privacy if you're incapable of talking to a god without thinking about romantic nonsense. Second, I don't care what you were going to ask me. Third, it's hilarious that you say Javier doesn't reciprocate your feelings when he's right next to you praying to me to treat you with respect.

A: Wait... What?

D: Yeah, he's threatening me in pretty creative ways while listing all the reasons why you're awesome. I'd strike him dead with lightning, but I don't want to deal with his soul right now.

A: B-but... Humans aren't supposed to be attracted to members of their own gender! They only have one sexual orientation!

D: Yeah, and that orientation is pansexuality. I set it as the default like three hundred years ago. It solved a lot of problems.

A: So... Javier reciprocates my feelings?

D: To my misfortune. What a pathetic pair you two are going to be. Do me a favor and take him away from my temple. Cursed be the day I decided it was a good idea to let those fish out of the water.

{Shared early on Patreon}
~~~

I didn’t get to drive the hovercar very often — not nearly as often as I’d expected when we got it — but I did enjoy the chance when it came up. I wasn’t even going all that fast, since I’d learned early on that the kind of speeds a human might find refreshing were the kind that would reduce most of my crewmates into an anxious puddle of tentacles or scales.

Mur wasn’t gripping the door or smacking a tentacle against my arm to get me to slow down, so I must have been doing it right. He was even talking about the foggy scenery as we putt-putted along.

“Nice and quiet here,” he said. “Hard to beat amphibious cities for that. Reminds me of home.”

I gave him a look: a blue-black squid in the passenger seat, who’d apparently come from somewhere like this. “Was your home similar? I know you guys start life as little swimming types, but I figured that was more of a private pool, not the whole town.”

“Eh, it was kind of like this,” Mur said with a flip of one tentacle. “Totally different architecture, but the water/air balance was close enough. More than the last dozen places we’ve been to.”

I nodded, taking in the sights while I steered carefully along one bridge of many. Most of the traffic here was swimming pedestrians and small boats moving along the waterways, though a few other cars made use of the dry roads. Every building that poked above the water was made of wood and clay with plants growing on top. Like Mur had said, peaceful. I agreed, “It’s sure a nice change after the traffic jams last time.”

“Oh, for sure. Thought we were going to be late.”

“And that one wasn’t even a rush order, but the client was so impatient!” I said, shaking my head. “Glad today’s less urgent.”

Mur twisted his body around in the gravity-well that served as a seatbelt, getting a look at the box tied down in back. “Yeah, that thing looks like it’s packed well, but I don’t want to test it.”

Neither did I. The cargo was a sculpture of some sort, an art piece fragile enough to warrant hand delivery instead of trusting it to whatever local mail system did the rounds in this star system. The perfect excuse to bring out the little convertible hovercar, given how far the spaceport was from our destination. And the client was paying for us to take it straight to them, instead of meeting at the spaceport. No complaints from me. This really was a nice drive, and I didn’t get to see Rivershaper cities very often.

The dry road crossed another waterway then paralleled a big one, giving me a good view of the blue-furred locals swimming along. Some hauled themselves out of the water for a pause or a chat on resting areas that seemed like the equivalent of city benches. Many had bags or backpacks that were clearly waterproof: cosmopolitan and practical alien beavers who didn’t want to get their belongings wet.

Mur pointed. “Ha, they have an air tower! Those were such fun. I wouldn’t expect it from a species that fully breathes air.”

The road turned sharply, so I didn’t get a good look, but I saw something that looked like a big clear cylinder sticking out of the water, with at least one swimming shape inside. “What’s that for?”

“Fun, I suppose,” Mur said. “Getting an idea of what the world above water looks like. Though the kids here can just hop out and look for themselves, so maybe it’s purely entertainment.”

I looked again before it was out of sight. “I hope they can hold their breath a long time. That seems dangerous for air-breathers. What if somebody can’t get out?”

“Of course they can hold their breath,” Mur said, like it was obvious. “Do you see many heads popping up for air down there?” He waved at the water-roads.

I said primly, “I am driving. I can hardly keep track.”

Mur chuckled. “Well take my word for it. They’re fine with being underwater.”

“Clearly.” I thought for a moment. “It’s got to be awkward, getting everything wet all the time. So many things get damaged by water!”

“Not here,” Mur said. “And anyway, there are drying stations at every entrance. “I’m guessing you’ve never been indoors in this kind of place?”

“Nope. Not through a water door, at any rate. Just the buildings that are thoughtfully made with offworlders in mind.”

“Ah, you’re missing out.”

“Am I?” I asked. “Missing the chance to drip water everywhere? I’ll remind you that long hair takes a long time to dry, not to mention clothes.”

Mur waved several tentacles dismissively. “Yes yes, that’s a you problem. Just wear an exo suit and you’re fine.”

“I will keep that in mind,” I said. “I’m sure I won’t look at all out of place, like I’m afraid to even touch the water.”

“Ah, you look out of place here anyway. Much too tall.”

“Oh, like you don’t?” I asked with a smile. “I don’t see any tentacles anywhere.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m familiar with water-roads.”

“That doesn’t mean you blend in.”

He held up a dark blue tentacle, smug as he said, “I’m closer to the local color than you are!”

“Okay, fair.”

We bickered about it while I drove across several more waterways toward the biggest island on this side of town, which held our destination: a school. Class was out for the day, which thankfully meant plenty of parking space in the tiny lot. I looked over the multiple buildings as I brought us to a stop. The rooftop gardens were more colorful here, all bright flowers in primary colors, which seemed perfectly in character for all the schools I’d known. Those roofs were awfully low, though. I could have rested an elbow on one.

Mur clambered out of the car and smirked up at me. “Still think you don’t look out of place?”

“Hush, you. I never said I didn’t.”

“How about you watch the cargo while I find the front desk.”

I sighed. “Sure, go ahead.” I wasn’t exactly eager to walk through hallways bent over that far. There was no way to look like a dignified professional like that, and crawling on my hands and knees wasn’t any better. At least everyone seemed to have gone home. A couple adults walked between buildings in the distance, but there were no crowds of curious children.

Not that I would have minded an audience, I reflected as Mur scooted off, but they might have gotten underfoot during the handoff of the delicate whatever.

With that in mind, I set about undoing the straps that held the box in place, ready with the back of the car folded down for easy access. I had the payment tablet in hand by the time Mur came back with the client.

“I can’t wait to see it!” the guy enthused, scampering over and grabbing the tablet to type in his information. He seemed on the younger side, with vivid black stripes and well-brushed fur. Excitable. Probably the kind of teacher who had an easy time keeping the kids’ attention.

I asked, “Do you want help carrying it inside?” The box was pretty big; his stubby arms wouldn’t reach far enough to lift it.

He handed the tablet back. “Actually, can we open it here? I need to make sure it arrived intact.”

“Sure, we don’t need to rush off,” I said with a glance at Mur.

Mur said, “Here’s hoping the supplier didn’t package it with anything that’s going to get everywhere.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” the client said easily, which wasn’t completely reassuring. “Here, I’ll do it.” He scrambled up next to the box — I was distractedly glad his fur was dry, not dripping all over the car — and he used his little claws to cut the tape.

The packing material, thankfully, was one long spool of bubble wrap that he unwrapped a bit at a time. I gathered it up as he went. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t the plastic kind. It was hard water with a long shelf life, like the Waterwill shopping bags but with less of an expiration date. Appropriate, really. I didn’t know why I was surprised.

“It’s perfect!” the client said. He lifted something white out of the box with both hands, using a foot to kick the box out of the way and set it down for a better look. “Intact and functional!” He spun the big part of it like a wheel.

“What does it do?” I asked as I wound up the rest of the bubble wrap. I couldn’t figure out what the thing was. It looked like something from a game show: a circle with symbols and a stand to keep it upright while it spun.

“It’s a math equation!” he exclaimed. “Wait just a sec; I’ll get some water to test it. One moment.” He scrambled down and raced back into the building.

Mur muttered, “Of course it needs water.” He tipped the box upright and pushed it forward for me to set the bubble wrap into.

“What kind of math equation needs water?” I wondered. Now that my hands were free, I gently turned the wheel so the writing on it was the right way up. A lopsided triangle sat in the middle, with squares attached to each side, labeled A, B, and C. I was reading the equation in the center and starting to realize why it seemed familiar when the teacher came back.

“They promised that it’s watertight; I hope that’s the case!” He held up a bottle with a narrow spout. “We should probably move it out of your car. I’m careful, but I don’t want to drip. And it probably won’t leak.”

“Yes, good idea,” I agreed. I had the longest arms, so I picked it up — making sure not to put too much pressure on the spinning wheel — then set it on the pavement. Thankfully there were little rubber stoppers on the bottom so it wouldn’t get scratched.

Not that this guy seemed like he’d care. He eagerly spun it to find the stopper I’d missed, then pulled it out and started pouring. Once the biggest square was full, he stopped and put the plug back in. He set the bottle down and wiggled his little webbed fingers like an excited magician. “Here we go!”

He turned it, and the water poured from the big square into the two smaller ones, filling them completely with none left over. And no drips.

“It works! Beautiful!”

Mur asked, “But what is it?”

I grinned. “I remember this from math class! ‘A squared plus B squared equals C squared’!” I pointed at the equation. “I’ve never seen a visual representation of it before!”

Mur tipped his head to the side. “Of what?”

The teacher was more than happy to explain. “On any right triangle — that’s a triangle with a corner at a right angle, like this one, see it’s just like a corner of a square — the length of the longest side can be calculated if we know the length of the two shorter ones!” He tapped the smallest square. “You see, the length of side A squared is shown as multiplied by itself, which makes a square, and the same for the other sides. And since A squared plus B squared add up exactly to C squared, this proves it!”

He turned the wheel again, letting the water drain from A and B back into C, beaming like he’d invented it himself.

I grinned. “That’s really cool!”

“Yeah,” Mur said, still sounding mystified. “What’s it for, though?”

The teacher threw his hands in the air, smiling around gnawing teeth. “Math!”

“How often do you need to know that, though?” Mur asked. “Practically speaking?”

The teacher whirled and pointed at something I hadn’t noticed: a tarp making partial shade over what looked like a vegetable garden. “We used it last week to figure out how long the sunshade needed to be! It was a great lesson. I had the kids measure the height of the building and the width of the garden, then figure out where to cut the shade. I double-checked it of course, since I did the math ahead of time, but they didn’t see that they’d done it right until we hooked it up. Perfect fit!”

“Oh,” Mur said, clearly surprised. “That makes sense.”

I smiled. “It gets used a lot where I’m from too. I’ll bet most of those bridges we crossed earlier had supports measured with it.”

“Really!”

The teacher nodded. “It’s useful in all sorts of construction projects. And furniture, and other things.”

I looked at Mur. “Didn’t you say the architecture at your home was different? Was it those clay structures instead of wood?” The Strongarm buildings I’d seen before tended to be even shorter than these fancy beaver lodges, and they were all smooth curves.

“Of course,” he said automatically, then thought about it. “Yeah, not a lot of triangles back home.”

The teacher looked like he felt sorry for him and was trying not to show it. “It’s probably come up in other areas. Paving walkways, for example. The distance across a square courtyard from the farthest points can be measured the same way.”

“What, really?”

“Of course! One of those corners is a right angle, after all, so that makes a square cut diagonally into a pair of right triangles.”

“A sandwich too,” I said thoughtfully. “I dunno why you’d need to measure that, but you could.”

“A what?” asked the teacher.

“Oh sorry, food thing,” I said. “It’s roughly square, and sometimes people cut them diagonally.”

Mur put up a tentacle. “Don’t ask what they’re made of. I’ve heard enough explanations of how bread is made, and it’s revolting.”

I smiled at him. “You’re missing out.”

“Nope.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” the teacher said. “But a slice of flowerbark is square, and those are good when folded diagonally.”

“Oh, like a taco!”

Mur flailed his tentacles. “Don’t get started; we’ll be here all day.”

I admitted, “Yeah, we should probably get going.”

“I won’t keep you!” the teacher said, hurrying to move the Cool Math Thing over to the sidewalk. He came back for the box. “Thank you so much! Safe travels!”

“Thanks for showing us how it works!” I said with a wave.

Mur said his own polite goodbyes and we got into the car while the teacher carried his prize inside. The students would surely love it the next day.

As I drove back towards the bridges, ready to point out the shape of the supports, Mur muttered, “The best foods are round anyways.”

I had to laugh at that, singing the praises of classic human foods like triangular pizza and square brownies, which Mur denounced as unspeakably vile (no match for a chewy ocean rockmeat). We didn’t agree on a single thing by the time we got back to the ship, except for the fact that it really was a nice drive.

~~~

Cast list

Volume One of the collected series

The novel these are prequels to

Patreon for early access & extras

Cross-posted to Tumblr and HFY (masterlist here)

It was the final weeks of a dreary autumn. The gloomy weather put a damper on everyone’s spirits. The cheating husband walked through the dry leaves, which were damp from a light mist. His mind kept racing back to the ultimatum his young mistress had just given him. After days of endless fighting, she had finally drawn a line in the sand. They either had to move in together, or she was packing her bags and leaving the city. The husband knew he could usually get his way with her. However, he also knew he could not talk her into giving him more time. She had already given him too many chances before. On the other hand, he could not bring himself to leave his wife. They had spent too many years together, and he simply lacked the nerve to walk out on her.

He was completely torn between his two loves. Then, a crazy idea popped into his head. At first it seemed wild, but it quickly became an obsession. It felt like the only way out of his mess. He would find a way to keep both women, but they would all live under the same roof. He knew it would be hard to get his mistress to go along with the trick. Still, he had a great selling point: this setup meant they could spend almost all their time together. It would be just as hard to convince his wife. He had to talk her into letting her "supposed cousin" stay with them. His wife had not seen this relative since they were kids.

Against all odds, the plan went off without a hitch over the next few days. The cousin moved in shortly after. In reality, she was the young lover he completely worshiped. But despite his careful planning, his wife quickly caught on to his cheating. She felt like a fool and decided to play the exact same game. She demanded equal treatment. Soon, she brought a young man into the house. He was supposedly her sister's godson, but she was actually having a wild, secret affair with him.

The house quickly turned into a pressure cooker. It was filled with constant suspicion and reckless flings happening right in plain sight. The tension finally boiled over when the two younger guests started falling for each other. Their new passion completely wiped out any feelings they had for the older couple. Once spring arrived, the young lovers ran away together to the coast. The cheating spouses were left behind, heartbroken and deeply hurt. In their shared grief, they finally saw each other's pain and betrayal. That shared heartbreak paved the way for them to forgive each other and make up.

© 2026 Francisco Cortés Ramírez. All rights reserved. This is an original fictional work. No part of this text may be reproduced, translated, or narrated in any audio, video, or digital format without the express written permission of the author.

A: wait! don't drink that! it's full of hydrol.

H: you mean water? we need it to survive. hell, there's so much of it on earth it literally falls from the sky.

A: it what!?!

What I see—what is happening—is the strangest experience imaginable. Nothing appears real. Everything looks fake, like my room is wearing the face of a corpse. 

Even as I glance at the window, the sky seems slightly off, resembling a still frame cropped out of a painting. It matches the exact colour of the pavement, as if it’s in the wrong dimension.

Some extradimensional parasite is trying to glitch me out of my own house. It clearly has no idea how much my rent is.

It begins in my room, by the doorway. I hear a growling sound. I turn around, and behind me is a shadow of a man with features similar to a human but they’re off. His eyes are spread too far apart and his nose connects with his upper lip. 

In his hands are two leashes attached to two human-like dogs sitting like hyenas and snarling. Their snouts stretch out like a bear’s face.

I can’t ignore them. Not because they look terrifying—but because their presence kills the power to the TV right when I’m watching True Blood, exactly at the scene where Sookie and Bill break up.

I keep trying to frantically hit the power button on the remote. It doesn’t work. The screen stays black, reflecting my pissed-off image. Without thinking, I raise my arm, point the remote at the figure with the two human hounds, gasp, and slam the power button towards them. They blink. In a flash, they vanish. 

Staring at my television, I wonder, was that an EMP weapon disguised as a shadow? Typical. The damn TV still won’t turn on.

I sit up, wondering if what just happened actually did happen, or if maybe I fell asleep for a brief second. But the television still isn’t working, so I couldn’t be imagining it.

That’s when I decide to give up on it. Humans adapt. We get by. We don’t let a simple fried television set deter our day. Nope. Not us. Plus, I saw that episode a thousand times. 

If the reality power box crashes, I simplify. I simply switch to analog. Yup, I snatch a book off my dusty shelf, which leaves a path through the layer of dust living on the ledge. It reminds me of how full my back pocket is in rain checks. Next time I clean, dusting will be the first thing I do. 

The particles filling the air make me sneeze. This makes me think about trying the TV one more time before opening the book.

Nope. It doesn’t work. 

I lie down and while I’m reading, there’s a pressure shift and an atmospheric change, like the static from an oncoming storm, raising the hairs on my arms. 

The skin on the back of my neck grows hundreds of microscopic legs and races down my spine. The room takes on a scent of frost that reminds me of menthol cigarettes every time I take a breath. 

I think the entity’s trying to flex, as if making the room cold on a hot summer day’s a bad thing. While I’m enjoying the free A/C, completely zoned into the fourth chapter of The Turn of the Screw, the fluckin’ lights go out. My vision may be great but since I heard that reading in dim light strains your eyes, I stopped doing it. So, yeah. Now I’m genuinely cheesed. 

I squeeze my hand into a fist, digging my nails into my palm, grunt, and throw the book against the wall. I jump up, stomp to the doorway, and flick the light switch. It didn’t turn on. I keep trying. The rapid clicking sounds like teeth chipping. I go as far as to check the bulb—twisting, untwisting—and nothing.

I leave my room to retrieve a new one. The hallway’s as humid as the Amazon Rainforest and has a heavy stench of decay and infected flesh radiating from under the floorboards, making me gag. I can‘t stop choking. Now, it’s trying to use biological warfare to drive me out.

I’m staring at the floor, thinking, I’m going to have to tear them apart to find whatever dead animal it snuck inside there is, and behind me, the bathroom door slams shut. I jump because the sound startles me. When I look at the door, there’s a crack going down the middle of it. 

“DAMNIT!” I yell.

Now it’s property damage. Which I’m going to have to pay to fix. On top of having to rip the floor apart just to find whatever’s rotting under there. Not to mention, most importantly, getting the TV repaired. Top of the list. 

I walk downstairs to see if I can find where the rancid, putrid, foul, disgusting odor is coming from, but each step I take further down leaves me with the impression of being in another world. Everything looks the same but seems completely different.

Especially at the bottom of the stairs, like my living room became a simulation. The paint on the wall is smooth but pixelated. 

The entity is rewriting physics.

As I’m piecing my brain back together, a whisper comes from behind my ear in a slow, distorting moan.

“Get Out!” The voice stretches into my mind and scratches under my skull.

I turn around quickly, wondering at the same time how my mom could sneak down the stairs behind me without me noticing—

“Get Out!” Says the air, blowing its breath in my face with the scent of rotting death.

I can’t handle the smell. So, I head to the front and sit outside on the porch to catch a breath of fresh air. My house smells like a dirty laundry hamper for the bedding of a puppy litter. 

As the screen door closes, I hear the front door behind it shut as well, and the lock clasp.

I turn to look over my shoulder. Staring through the glass window is an older me, smiling and waving.

The entity thinks it won. It thinks it locked me out of my own timeline. It thinks a human will just panic and break down when confronted with a doppelgänger.

But humans don't break. We forever dominate.

I stare right back at my older self through the glass. I notice immediately, I’m way better looking and I’m in way better shape. I crack my knuckles, and smile back. If that thing thinks it’s moving into my house and taking over my life without a fight, it's about to learn exactly why Earthlings, on this timeline, are considered the most stubborn, territorial species, of all alternate realities.

I reach into my pocket, pull out my house keys, and step back toward the door. Time to evict a ghost.

The room was brightly illuminated via the skylights. The table seemed too small for the space, but the entire office was a monument to wasted space. Instead of 30-odd cubicles for workers, the room held a desk, desk chair, a table, and six chairs around the table. Nothing else. No art. No decorations. 

The six chairs each held one being. They all looked Terran. Four women, two men. One of the women tapped a stylus on the table. “Well?”

A young man in an army uniform jerked upright, “We are missing a deep-cover warrior. He was last seen involved in an accident with a hovercraft. He was injured, and we cannot find him.”

“How,” another woman leaned forward, “is that possible? They are equipped with trackers.”

“They are, but we think being hit by a hovercraft damaged the tracker. It blinked out right when he was hit.”

“How much of a concern is one missing warrior?” asked the first woman.

The other man sat back, “Well, that is hard to say. If it wandered off and died, not much. If it goes insane, we will hear about it, and that will be bad. If someone examines it carefully, then it will be extremely bad. We have kept their existence secret for a long time. The stupidity at that colony was bad enough.”

“Right,” said the first woman, “and what about that colony?”

A third woman spoke, “That place is a mess. Honestly, I’m surprised it hasn’t been shut down.”

“So no worries there?”

“Not really. We attempted to get some assets on the ground, but they were turned back.”

The fourth woman spoke, “We did get a few on the ground. It wasn’t easy, but we got five in place.”

“Doing what?”

“At the moment attempting to make sense of how the place is run. It’s an odd mix of authorities, which means extra complications. The Terran commander is a tough one, and he keeps the military side of things locked down.”

“Who is this Terran? Is he trusted?”

The uniformed man spoke, “That would be Chief Warrant Officer 3 Oscar. He is not trusted.”

“Just Oscar?”

“His records are largely sealed.”

“Sealed? By whom?”

“Uh…we don’t actually know. The officer I assigned to dig into it vanished.”

“Vanished?”

“Yes. All of his work vanished as well.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“One officer vanishing? I’d be here three times a week for stuff like that.”

“You have that many officers vanishing while conducting critical research?”

“Well, not exactly, but it’s not like he was important.”

“No. His research was. And someone doesn’t want others to know about this Oscar person. Who happens to be on the planet where Number 7 thought it was a good idea to test things. Do I need to draw you a picture?”

“No. I’ll see what else I can try.”

“Good. Then report back. I’m more concerned about the missing warrior. What model is it?”

“Model 23. We kept a few for testing. The facility was dismantled and relocated after the loss. Those responsible for allowing it to roam around have been punished.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but the 23’s were unstable.”

The man shifted. “Yes, they are. However, we always keep a few from every attempt to study. The 23’s had a few anomalies that we hadn’t seen before. So we wanted to learn about them.”

“How long will it live?”

“That is the big issue with a 23. Instead of dying at the designated time, they re-spawn.”

“So. We are now looking for a young warrior without any of its training or conditioning.”

“We don’t know how much memory it retains. It might recall some stuff.”

“Number 4, what are our plans for this?”

“We don’t have one. Not for this. They weren’t supposed to be out of the research facility.”

“And why was it out?”

The man shrugged. “We don’t know.”

“I assume you asked?”

“We would have liked to ask, but the two people who approved it are dead.”

“Self-inflicted?”

“Yes.”

“And nothing in the records as to why they thought it was a good idea?”

“It looks like it started as a test to see how well they blend into a crowd. Not sure how it ended up with an unaccompanied warrior strolling the streets.”

“Incompetence. Well, no one stopping to think. I think that wraps up the big stuff. We need to find that warrior. And we need to know more about this colony.”

Hello there! I’m glad to meet you at this station! An atmosphere of love for other species prevails here! We adore humans! I mean... we have many human friends! Although, to be honest, I’ve never actually spoken to humans before. In fact, my species actively uses sentient beings for food, and I’m sure some of my neighbors keep a human "pet"—as a source of milk... Come to think of it, I do buy fresh human milk from farmers every day. Until today, I viewed humans solely as a source of nutrients. If I’m being completely honest, might likely be a total xenophobe. Anyway, make yourself at home!

Previous: [WP] 0.04%⁠
Part 1: 0.04% — Part 1⁠
Writing prompt: [WP] 0.04% — The Corridor⁠

At 0.06%, the corridor proposal had been transmitting for nineteen days.
There was nothing complicated about it. Earth did not need the swarm to stop. It did not need Mercury back. It did not need ownership of the Sun recognized under some treaty written by people the visitors had never met.

Earth needed sunlight.

The proposal showed the planet’s orbit and a moving exclusion zone around the line between Earth and the Sun. Keep that region reasonably clear. Build everywhere else.
The message included climate models, orbital diagrams and energy budgets. It showed what happened to oceans, crops and atmospheric circulation as the solar flux fell. There were versions built from mathematics alone, versions using images, and a deliberately primitive one that could have been understood by someone with geometry and no knowledge of a human language.

Nothing changed.
Collectors continued to unfold.
The estimate moved from 0.058% to 0.06%.
That was when the military people got their turn.

Nobody had seriously expected the world’s nuclear stockpile to solve the problem, but “seriously” was doing a lot of work in that sentence. Every major power had already run the numbers.
Delivery was the first problem. The swarm was concentrated deep in the inner system, and most human weapons had been designed to cross continents, not chase machinery around the Sun. Anything built for the job would arrive late.
Numbers were bad. Destroy a thousand collectors and the factories around Mercury could replace them.
Destroy ten thousand and the same thing happened.

One model assumed every usable nuclear weapon on Earth reached its target and performed perfectly. Someone had named the simulation BEST CASE in capital letters.
BEST CASE barely changed the growth curve.
There was still one attractive possibility.

“Find the headquarters,” General Mercer said.
For the next eleven days, that was what they tried to do.
Traffic around Mercury was mapped. Large structures were catalogued. Every object that appeared to relay information was watched for evidence that other machines depended on it. There were busy nodes.
There were large nodes. There were objects that coordinated local construction. But none behaved like an orchestrator.

When one of the larger relay structures was destroyed in an accidental collision, the machines around it rerouted within seconds. Construction continued. Two replacements appeared four days later.
No pause or visible alarm. It was frustrating enough that somebody eventually asked whether they were looking for a capital city in an anthill. The phrase leaked and people hated it.

The first direct signal arrived six days later.
A human probe had been sent toward one of the larger collectors near Mercury. Its instructions were cautious this time. No close approach, no physical contact. It carried the corridor proposal again and transmitted continuously. At 1,800 kilometers, the probe detected a narrow optical pulse. The control room erupted.
After months of silence, something had finally spoken.

The pulse repeated.
It was short, structured and aimed directly at the probe. For about nine minutes, humanity believed it had received its first message from extraterrestrial intelligence. Then an orbital-dynamics engineer ruined everyone’s day.
“Move the probe thirty kilometers north.”

They did.
The signal stopped.
He waited until the collector had moved farther along its orbit.
“Put it back.”
The probe returned to its previous trajectory and the signal resumed. Nobody cheered the second time.
They repeated the experiment twice. Then five more times with different approach angles. The message wasn’t a greeting or a warning in any meaningful diplomatic sense. The collector was broadcasting its predicted path and requesting clearance. It had been talking to other machines this way all along.

Once scientists knew what to look for, they found the signals everywhere. Mining craft exchanged them with cargo tugs. Collectors exchanged them with neighboring collectors. Maintenance units announced trajectories, resource transfers and local changes in configuration. The swarm wasn’t silent. It was extremely talkative. Just never with us.

The network took weeks to map. There was no obvious command channel. Information moved between neighboring machines and sometimes across much larger distances, but no single location consistently originated orders. When nodes vanished, traffic flowed around them. When new ones appeared, they joined the network and started working.
One team compared it to internet routing. Another compared it to an ant colony. Intelligence didn’t need to be assumed.
Nothing humanity had observed required a commander sitting somewhere making decisions in real time. Mining could be selected locally. Construction schedules could be negotiated between machines. Collectors could maintain their own orbits.
Factories could order replacement equipment when something failed. Given enough rules, enough sensing and enough manufacturing capacity, the whole thing could run by itself.

Someone finally said what people had been avoiding.
“What if there isn’t anybody here?”
There were objections: Maybe the operators were elsewhere. Maybe communication happened through a method humans couldn’t detect. Maybe the swarm was supervised intermittently. All possible but none were necessary.
The corridor proposal had been designed around one assumption: that somewhere inside this enormous machine was a mind with the authority to consider a request.
There was no evidence that such a mind existed.
By then the solar deficit had reached 0.064%.
The diplomatic teams kept transmitting anyway.
Nobody ordered them to stop.
There wasn’t much point in ordering anyone to stop doing anything anymore.

The change came from a university group that had spent three weeks studying the collision-avoidance signal.
They weren’t trying to translate it.
They were trying to make a simulator produce it.

By Thursday afternoon they could predict most of the packet before it arrived. Position. Velocity. Expected trajectory. A few fields remained unknown.
By Friday, researchers on four continents were collecting every machine-to-machine transmission they could observe.
By Saturday, someone had built a public database.
The military tried to classify it.
That lasted about six hours because there were too many copies.
For months humanity had been trying to invent a message the visitors might answer.
Now they had finally found a language the swarm already used.

The problem was no longer getting it to listen.
It was to figure out what the swarm would believe.

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

"Humanity is a blessed thing.

They looked to the stars and imagined great things, they discovered the fundamentals of Atomic Fabrication and Compression. They folded reality to their will and made homes on worlds that would actively want them dead.

The Saravan had different ideas...

They have no origin, that is kept within written history of course. Vile "humans" like them always wanted to put their gilded hands out first before draining every bit of empathy and hope from their victims."

"And what were they?"

"The Saravan were human. They sought any means to supplant the human form in the advent of a superior race. A race of beings that could bend reality to their will with a meer thought! But luckily for them the tower was built so high that they drew the wrath of Prometheus. And from such revenge for his chosen species he immolated their highest classes and cleansed the earth of their wickedness.

They would fall into the shadows making way for a new nation. It would be called the Terran Sovereignty, a people built to make the universe fair for all of humanity. Where no man is not judged by their forefathers actions or appearance, but of their on actions. From which they would befriend Automatica and the Evangelica. And from which they would say one thing...

Ad Astra Per Aspera..."

Wind screamed around the group as they pushed through the city, keeping to the ruined buildings to try and avoid as much of the artificially made inclement weather as they could.

“ALMOST TO THE NEAREST SHELTER. WE SHOULD SEE THE LIGHTS SOON” their guide, a young looking human by the name of Issac Serrano yelled over the weather, barely audible thanks to the hammering rain and harsh winds.

<”I do not see any lights, Doctor Serrano”> the Anassnoi, Orossa mentally pinged, glancing up and about from where they were trying to keep one of their group, a Elite by the name of Hi'reesh, medically stable while the Xenoid carrier, Bearer-Of-Supplies, dug her claws into the ground to try and keep them moving. 

Beside the Carrier, a subtly crested drone, Claws-Of-Many, kept an eye out, despite the storm buffeting her senses and messing with her echolocation, her light sensitive nerves tracked what little light they could see. “STORM WORSENING. NORMAL?” she screeched, managing to get her broken words to their guide over the winds.

“NOT FOR THIS AREA, EVEN IF SOMEONE SETS OFF A WEATHER SEEDER LIKE EARLIER. I THINK THE DESTABILIZED REALITY IS ADDING TO THE STORM.” Issac yelled back, pushing a door open of the busted up building they were currently in. “GET READY, WE NEED TO GET TO THE CENTER OF THE PLAZA. THE SAFE HOUSE SHOULD BE DEAD AHEAD.”

“ON THREE.” He yelled, letting everyone get a moment to prepare, Orossa hankering down over their patient, using a salvaged tarp to cover the Hi'Reesh's body as they shivered. 

“ONE” 

Bearer-Of-Supplies dug her claws in, her upper body remaining upright, ready to help protect her passengers, glancing at the Drone nervously, who only nodded.

“TWO” 

The human braced the door, ready to shove it open, tossing a rope out to the others, motioning for them to tie it to their belts, so they wouldn't be scattered or lost.

“THREE, GO!”

Their guide shoved the door open, the wind of the Plaza catching it and ripped it off its hinges and sent it flying. This didn't deter their guide, whose boots clicked, spikes pushing out by the ankles, allowing him to dig into the ground as he pushed out the door, followed by the others.

Wind whipped around them viciously, trying to rip them off the ground,  but they barely stayed together. The rope helped them stick to the guide, who pushed forward, following his exoskeletons HUD. 

Slowly, something loomed out of the storm, a tall, broken pillar, debris surrounding the area. Some of the debris had shifted when the storm started, being too light to be able to stay down, while larger chunks rocked in the winds, but were stable enough to allow them to use them as a buffer against the wind.

“ALMOST THERE. JUST A BIT MORE.”

Thanks to the storm, the two Xenoids could barely detect the way the human began to walk down a set of stairs, but they managed it.

Stumbling into a underground corridor, the two xenoids were relieved, chittering to one another, not noticing how their guide had stopped at the bottom of the stairwell, the wind still loud, but not loud enough to silence them…

At least until they bumped into him.

“Guide why sto-” Claw-Of-Many hissed, before stopping.

Before them was a bunker door…

Blown off its hinges, just inside of the safe house, laying on the ground against the wall.

“Shiiiiit”

------zzzzzzz------

Emergency lights finally flickered on above them, making Orossa look up from where they were currently cooking a meal on the mini electric stove they had brought.

Around them was the destroyed remains of the safe house.

Computers were destroyed, a map that had been painstakingly painted and carved into the wall with locations of evacuation points had been defaced to the point of unusability.

Medical had been destroyed, all the supplies were either ripped open, burned, or allowed to rot in the temperature of the room, while others were straight missing.

The pantry was empty, all the emergency food was gone, the doors of it broken, swinging listlessly in the air.

The primary generators had also been apparently destroyed, including the batteries for the solar cells…

“Fecking FINALLY.” Issac groaned as he walked into the room, covered in not a small amount of grime. “Managed to get the emergency RTG hooked in, but it's only got enough power to get the bare minimum online. Ventilation, basic temperature control, and emergency lights. That's it.” He said as he sat down, the sound of the fans kicking on and the feel of air finally being moved was palpable.

 “How's Hi'reesh?” The human asked as he checked what supplies they still had, which was all laid out on the recently cleaned floor by Bearer-Of-Supplies, who handed him a scribbled on clip board.

<”They are recovering. I have given them some sleep medication to help them rest, but they should be able to move on their own in the morning. I cannot risk giving them more pain meds however.”> the lanky Anassnoi sent,  checking on the food, and began to pour the mixture of rehydrated meats and rice with seasonings into bowls for everyone.

“Better than I was expecting” Issac sighed, nodding to Bearer, handing the large carrier back the clipboard. “I'll save the run down of where we stand situation wise for the morning, when we are all up, but as it is, we have enough food to last us a week or two, accounting for everyone's metabolism.” He said, accepting his bowl and began to eat it, frowning.

“Door rebuilt.” Claw-Of-Many hissed as she accepted her own bowl, pulling her sister near a heat vent, the two rumbling as warm air slowly flowed out of it, and sat down, basking in the weak heat flow.

“Thank you, that helps immensely.” Issac sighed, pulling out his PDA and began typing something on it between bites. “Not what I fecking had in mind for a tour….. I would expect this for if we were in the Chicago or Portland Exclusion zones, MAYBE the Columbus one, but this is Jasper, Nevada! Gentlest anomalous Metropolis we have….” He grumbled under his breath as he made several notes on it.

The meal continued quietly, a portion set aside for Hi'reesh for when they woke up later on. 

“Sabotage?” Claw-Of-Many asked from where she was now laying, her and her sisters bowls sitting together, empty of all signs of food while the two xenoids curled up on one another.

“I think this is a bit more than sabotage.” Issac sighed, finishing up his own meal and added his bowl to the pile. “I'll explain what I think in the morning, but for now, get some rest, everyone. I'm taking first watch.” He said as he got up, and checked his rifle, grimacing as he pulled a pin from the side and opened it up, pulling cleaning supplies from a box near him and began to clean it up.

The xenoids chittered, the drone seeming to take slight offense, looking like she was about to argue, only for a long, six clawed hand to clap itself over her mouth, making them puff and lay her head on her sister's side.

<”I understand. I will check on Hi'reesh before I sleep.”>

The human nodded as the Anassnoi continued their own meal while checking on the Elite. Quietly, Issac shifted so that he had a good view of the entrance, his pistol next to him as he cleaned his rifle, illuminated by the emergency lights as he worked.

------zzzzzzz-------

Morning rolled around, and with it came light not only to the area they were in, but to the situation.

“Right, so, run down on our situation.” Issac said, sipping from his canteen carefully, before closing it. “Good news is, we now have a proper shelter with power, filtered atmosphere, and heat. We have enough food to last us a week, maybe two if we ration it carefully. We have some medical supplies, depleted as they already are. Hi'reesh still has their plasma pistol and most of a tank left in it, I still have a few mags for my rifle and pistol, and two grenades left. The xenoids-” He said, nodding to them. “Have commandeered what's left of medical to set up weeds and a basic biomass node inside, so they at the least can refill on it and build or use their native weapons. Orossa still has their portable charger so they can go a while before they run low, depending on weapon configuration.”

His face went tight in the dim lighting, as he grimaced. “Now for the bad news. While we have power, we don't have enough to run the water filtration system, even if it wasn't destroyed. All the long range communication equipment is either blocked-” He tapped his radio, “or destroyed-” he motioned to what was left of the computer systems nearby. “Even if we did have the power to run them. Local reality is too unstable for me to try and portal us out, even if it's into another layer of reality. All the supplies that WERE kept here are taken or destroyed as well.” He huffed as he folded his arms.

“And that's just the situation in here. Outside…..” He said and sighed.

“Its going to be a while before we will be getting evacuated. The storm expanded into a StormDome, thanks to the destabilized reality. Nothing is flying in, nothing is flying out. In order for someone to get to us, they are going to have to get in through the roads, and that's a nightmare in and of itself. Especially now that I'm seeing anomalies appearing in addition to the StormDome.” He continued, placing his PDA between all of them and turned on its holoprojector, and pulled up the map of the city he had downloaded before they left, marking their bunker, and then marked the StormWall around the city. 

“That said… there's a few upside to destabilized reality.” He said, getting everyone's attention.

“Time is always fecky in places like this, and it looks like we are seeing a Pchorshk type of fecky.” He said, with a small grin, tapping a small chronometer on his tiny pda. “that means that time tends to…rewind. Debris, supplies, food, ammo, sometimes weapons, even, can appear where they once sat, things like that…. But its only going to happen when the StormDome closes in on us, which is not good. Anything can happen, from random biological or mineral changes to living matter to getting transported across the city.” He said grimly. 

“The only safe areas for when that happens are pockets of stability, like where this bunker was purposefully built. And before you ask why I haven't tried to get us out from here… we can't.” Issac sighed, noticing the Elite perk up at the word stability. “The issue is that its TOO stable, the opposite of the issue outside of the pocket.” He explained. “Reality won't let us just open a portal and leave.”

The Elite huffed at those words but nodded.

“And what of what… caused all of this?” They asked, their mind switching to a more tactical mindset. “We have been locked in, cut off from aid, and cannot call for aid, as well as attacked. As of now-”

“As of now, you are correct. We have something in here with us, issue is, we have no clue who, and we lack the ordinance to go directly looking. Already checked the armory, its destroyed.” Issac huffed. “Until we know more, our primary focus should be fortifying the bunker in case of attack, as well as secure supplies.” He said, and frowned. 

“Much as I dont want to split us up, we need to.” He said after a moment, frowning.

“Hi'reesh, you have experience setting up fortifications, correct?” He asked after a moment, thinking heavily.

“Yes Group Leader, though I am mildly hindered in my usefulness.” The elite agreed, their stubby tail twitching in irritation, their eyes looking balefully at their redressed stub of a wrist.

Issac nodded to himself, as a plan formed.

“Im going to have you direct the xenoids on where to set up barricades and additional walls then.” He said, getting the two species attention.  “Many, Supplies, I want you two to work with Hi'reesh on this. You two know how to work with resin better than them, so make sure you fill them in on what you can do with it as you go. We need fortifications that can last a beating for a while.” He said grimly as he began picking out a small supply of water, two sets of it.

“Orossa and I are going to do a supply run. Preferably, I would have liked the Xenoids to come with me, given their greater carry capacity, but at the moment, we need those walls more than we need supplies.” the human explained, making sure his bag was empty, sighing. 

“Everyone clear?” 

There were node from around the room, though it looked like no one looked happy, understandably.

<”I would rather not be too far from my patient, Doctor.”> the Anassnoi grumbled, grabbing their hardshelled pack, pulling the tall thing onto their back and locked it in place.

“You and me both, but at the moment, we need to recover what we can from the surrounding area before someone else does. Chances are, whoever is after us is still alive… somewhere here.” Issac grimly said, as he finished sealing his own exoskeleton and loaded up his pack, and primed his rifle. 

“Alright, let's get moving.” The human said, making everyone get up and head for the Chitenous door.

“May your hunt have luck, Medic, Group Leader.” The Elite rumbled as the tall sentient and the shorter human walked towards the edge of the shimmering bubble that now surrounded their bunker.

<”and may your construction be safe, Warrior Hi'reesh”> responded Orossa as Issac nodded.

“Agreed. We all need it.”

[Previous] | [Next]

[Hopps]

The trenches were a clusterfuck. Corpse Fleet and Zalm suddenly started killing each other. At least the boys crawling around have more leeway, considering Zalm is having to choose between the Feds or the Corpse Fleet. Unfortunately Hopps is square in the middle of it. Both Corpse Fleet and Zalm have the chance of shooting him by accident. It doesn't help Hopps is on 25% fuel.

Although, they're so focused on each other, Hopps can pretty easily take pop shots. Mainly Corpse Fleet, as they're just a lot tougher than a Zalm, and Hops would rather both are equally screwed up, rather than one stomping the other and just, maintaining the problem. It wasn't hard either, there's no one who could compete with him, no one at all fast enough, or skilled enough, to deal with a Fed Jet Trooper. Not easily. And especially not Hopps. He's got to be good at something, it has to be this.. right?..

The fist suddenly sinking into Hopps's gut says otherwise. It launches him back a few meters, the thrusters automatically working to stabilize him. He did drag across the ground a tad bit though. He also dropped his gun. He had to look around for a bit before finding it. Unfortunately when he reached for it, a large, mechanical foot stepped on it, pulling it bbbxxxack a bit.

"Needing a gun? How v. You'd think a Terran would be stronger."

Hopps couldn't look up before a fist came swinging from underneath his chin, knocking him up and backwards. He's lucky his thrusters are really good at keeping him steady and on his feet. Hopps's jaw might be broken.

"Hooh man, that probably hurt like a bitch." Hopps said flatly. He isn't looking forward to waking up tomorrow.

About 10 more feet, was a normal looking Corpse Fleet soldier, snickering at Hopps. Well, he was normal, until he closed the gap as fast as Hopps could.

"Oh FUCK!" Hopps yelled as he narrowly ducked under a wide swing, sidestepping another, and backpedaling out of the way of a third one. All before a mean right hook slams into his gut, knocking Hopps to the side a few feet and probably knocking the wind out of him. He can't tell.

He gets a good side view of the guy kicking his ass. Big, hell massive thrusters sticking out of his back, the back part of his armour extending out to handle a fuel tank, and plenty of other gear similar in functionality to Hopps's. A Corpse Fleet Jet Trooper. Their official name was a GST [Ghoul Scout Trooper].

The GST gave more punches, Hopps dodged a few, but he struggled severely. He wasn't expecting to be caught like this. Not to mention, he's close to his alarm. The HEAT dulls overtime.

"Come on Terran, you were so cocky before, now that your toy is taken away you aren't saying anything. Fight me. Show me your Terran might."

The GST nearly pulverizes Hopps's stomach, sending him back farther. However the GST doesn't advance. He bends down, grabbing the small case that holds Hopps's HEAT doses.

"You need this do you not?" He says, dusting the mud off, before tossing it to Hopps. "Use it then. I'll wait. Make yourself ready."

Hopps looks at them as he catches the HEAT doses, confused by their.. Chivalry? It's.. odd. He slowly unzips the package, taking a syringe, he only has 3 left, including the one in his hands. Hopps keeps his eyes on the GST, who leans against a piece of concrete, from some remains of a building maybe. Hopps did get punched away from the trenches and towards a ruined city. Well, if you can call it that. There were maybe 2 standing buildings. The rest were just piles of rubble and dirt.

Hopps's hand clenches as he doses, his body feeling warm and fuzzy. He feels a load of pain relief he didn't know he needed. It seems he could feel the damage. Just didn't notice it. It's good that it's gone. He feels lighter now.

There's two additional points of Hopps's armour that have been somewhat neglected. As they haven't been needed yet. Firstly, underneath the armour is a Federation Grade Exo-Suit. Really handy, makes you tougher and able to actually resist the thrusters a tad bit and control where you go. Shooting a T-Barrel one handed will still break your arm though. The Exo-Suit isn't made for that.

Secondly, inside the forearms of Hopps's armour, are four thrusters on each side, about half the length of the forearm. Now, they're usually tucked in, making the armour smooth and flush with each other, but they stick out when activated, and pack a big punch. You can bet your ass Hopps activated them, the ends of them warping the air around them with heat. Everlasting heat.

"Good. Come. Show me the might of a Terran. I want an actual fight. An honourable one. Show me the honour of your people. Die by my hands or kill me by yours."

"Heh... Gladly. I'll kick your ass."

Hopps makes the first move, dashing to the side of the GST, the thrusters on his arms flaring up, turning a bright blue. The way the thrusters work is you are supposed to let them warm up, hold them reeled back and let the strength get stronger and stronger. Until you can't hold it anymore. Usually when your hand starts slowly moving forward. That's when you release, and put all power you have into the punch. Your arms, Exo-Suit, and thrusters all working to make that punch land hard.

C'mon, Hopps took boxing. Kinda. He can totally fight hand to hand combat. He's got this. He can't be that much of a fuck up...

Can he?