RoyalRoad
Index
Previous
Next
Galactic Union HQ
"Emergency Session 18 of the Galactic Union, for the record," Secretary General Amanda Wilson said as she looked solemnly around at the hundreds of creatures in the chamber. At first, the Galactic Union headquarters were located in New York City, sharing spaces with Earth's United Nations. Then, as many other planets joined it, the UN General Assembly Hall became too small.
A new, larger facility was built at Galactic Peace Island, formerly known as Navy Island, a previously uninhabited island on the Niagara between the US and Canada. The new assembly chamber was large enough for every planet to have one permanent seat. Though some would choose to participate in its proceedings virtually, every one of them had visited its spacious halls. The structure itself represented their sacred and collective agreement to resolve their differences together, to face big challenges together, and to guard the interests of all sentience.
This was where galactic slavery was banned. This was where the first interspecies anti-piracy military ship was commissioned. This was where the ambassador of Ribb had come to humbly beg to be allowed to rejoin the galactic community.
For humans, its location and the extreme technological requirements needed to quickly construct the large hall also served as a convenient reminder to the galaxy of the importance of the species that hosted and built it.
"We have received a special petition regarding the issue of sovereignty over a member planet. I yield my time to their representative, joining us via virtual FTL comms," Amanda continued, pointing at the massive viewscreen above her.
The screen cleared, and a large parrot like face appeared with intricate red and black paint adorning its features.
"Hello Union members, my name is Mollikutta. I am the former Governor of Zakabara Second, and I am here to represent the interests of my people," she said calmly but loudly. There was a hubbub in the assembly hall. Zakabara already had a representative! Eyes began drifting towards the stunned Popptaw at the front of the chamber.
"My people of Second split off from Zakabara Prime many thousands of years ago. We have developed a distinct culture, and distinct interests. Our people no longer wish to accept the jurisdiction and administration of our planet from Prime. We would like to ask the Galactic Union to grant us sovereignty over our planet, our resources, and our space."
A loud squawk broke through the shocked chamber. It was Popptaw.
"This is ridiculous! Zakabara Second is and has been a colony of Zakabara for all of our history! I am the true representative for all of our people, all of our species, and I demand that this pretender be ignored by this chamber from here on out!"
The older species were nodding or agreeing silently. After all, Zakabara was not the only species that had a colony or two. Some younger species were looking to develop their own, and their ambassadors were now suddenly worried about whether they'd retain control over them.
Mollikutta was undeterred and continued, "unlike the representative from Zakabara Prime, I was chosen to lead our people with a majority voice vote last night."
It was not easy convincing the crowd to let her stay on with a promise of facilitating independence, with her being the symbol of the Primers on their planet for months.
The flashy entry of the humans in their helicopter at the palace grounds did the trick. Mark promised the mob elections and everything. Humans had a lot of credibility in the galaxy, with their cultural and economic exports.
At this point, there was more whispering and even some gasps in the chamber. They were all familiar with the concept of electoralism; that was how Earth and the GU conducted business, but few other species practiced it internally.
Mollikutta continued, "my people deserve the right to determine the future of our destiny, not to be treated as second class citizens by an oppressive regime from a faraway planet that does not understand our people or our problems!"
The undecided chamber looked to the great powers of the galaxy to see what they had to say.
Amanda spoke up simply, "the people of Earth stand with the people of Second."
Seeing this, Gubarak, the ambassador of Gakrek quickly followed, "Gaks stand with the people of Second."
"The Zeepils of Zeep-zep support the Seconders' right to self-determination."
Finally, an electronic tally showed an overwhelming majority of support for the independence of the people of Zakabara Second, with many older species choosing to abstain instead of casting their lot with Prime.
A subsequent vote gave the Galactic Union the powers to oversee the transition.
As Popptaw stormed angrily out of the chamber, Mollikutta wasn't sure which she found more beautiful: knowing that her people had a brighter future ahead of them, or watching the middle finger that the galaxy had just shown their other oppressors on Prime.
Construction Site 1, Gophor Spaceport
Grayin's heart sank as she saw Rey and Enrico walk over, hand in hand. She had hoped that it would take them longer to figure out what she was doing here and to start asking questions, but the growing pile of material and chopped wood frame in the lot she'd chosen wasn't easy to ignore.
After all, they were easily visible from their neighboring restaurant. And nobody liked competition.
"Hello Rey, hello Enrico" she said timidly, not wanting to start a confrontation this early in the business.
"Good morning, Grayin," Rey greeted politely, "and N'har. How are things going? Looks like you guys are building some kind of a permanent structure here. Does this have to do with the spaceport?"
From the familiar look on her face, Grayin knew the jig was up. She couldn't lie, so she tried confidence. "We're building a new restaurant building here. It'll be a two-story one, just like yours, except we'll also have a front patio. Like one I've seen on a magazine from Earth."
Rey smiled broadly and said, "that's very nice. Good luck with that! And don't go anywhere, we'll be right back in a bit."
Ah, shucks! They're gonna go get that security guard that they hang around. We should have thought of that, she thought. Maybe if we hired a couple of them, they wouldn't be messing with us.
About an hour later, to her surprise, Rey and Enrico came back not with Grob, but with a plastic folder with a stack of papers held in it.
"These are the contact information for the construction contractors we had on Earth for the more advanced issues we had when we were building our restaurant," Rey said. Handing her the folder, she added "and we've got our blueprints in there in case you need inspiration, as well as some interior design ideas. And let us know when you need help with water, electricity, and waste management."
"Huh?" Grayin was dumbfounded.
"You said you're constructing a new building here, right?" Enrico asked affably.
"Yes. But why are you helping us?" she asked suspiciously. Surely, they couldn't be naive enough to not recognize the obvious site of a future competitor, right?
"Oh, we're not worried about the competition if that's what you're thinking," Enrico smiled. Then he added, "besides, N'har here helped us out a bunch when we were building our business." He went over and patted the stunned N'har on the shoulders. "It's about time we returned the favor."
Grayin was not sure if she'd gone crazy, or if it were just these two humans. Perhaps it was both.
They were not crazy.
Having gone to Hamburger University, Rey was familiar with the clustering effect. Enrico, who had been to a street lined with restaurants, also intuitively understood its existence. Hell, even the food vendors at the spaceport market knew this subconsciously.
Businesses tend to cluster. For a long time, economists ignored this tendency because economists were generally not businesspeople. In the 1980s, as the field of business strategy really began to hit its stride, some of them started to take notice and study the effects of clusters.
Why do businesses open up next to each other even though they'd face the stiffest competition there? As it turns out, the reason mostly has to do with economies of scale.
When you ship something, like say napkins, to a hundred restaurants on a hundred different streets, it is costly. Far costlier than shipping napkins to a hundred restaurants on a single street. Apply that to every consumable good or maintenance need of every restaurant, and what ends up happening is that the cost of doing business in a cluster turns out to be much lower than outside. Sure, there may be strong competition, but clusters also increase foot traffic, which increases the overall pool of customers.
This also happens on the labor side. That's why so many IT workers live in the Silicon Valley, why so many prospective actors and actresses live in Hollywood, and why so many jewelers live in Antwerp. In the even longer run, successful clusters make successful cities, and successful cities rake in profits for its businesses.
In the case of Gophor, Rey and Enrico could not wait for the spaceport to develop a food court, with an even cheaper supply chain for imported goods from Earth. Additionally, the only logical move for these new buildings later on would be to hook up their utilities to their infrastructure. That would not only decrease their own cost but possibly allow them to earn a profit off that early investment.
And it was certainly going to happen sooner or later, so why not maintain a good relationship with the folks who were about to maintain a large workforce and potential customers in the area?
They offered the working Gaks some free ice cream (luckily, the ice cream machine was not broken that day), and went back to work.
Four Months Later
Grayin designated her new buildings Site 1, Site 2, and Site 3. They lined up side-by-side next to the next to the existing McDonald's building. Because many of the construction Gaks who were on her projects also worked with Rey, they were familiar with many of the human invented building techniques that were required.
They could employ more workers with their lower pay, and after a short four months, the exterior for Site 1 was mostly completed. After a risky operation that shut down McDonald's itself for a weekend, they also managed to hook their building onto Rey's "utility company".
After they celebrated the building's completion, the first thing they did was to ask Rey and Enrico whether they had an idea who on Earth would be interested in their new building. For reasons she and N'har still could not understand, the humans had been genuinely helpful and seemed utterly honest about their intentions to help her succeed.
"Hmmm," Rey thought out loud when they asked, "there are a few restaurants that could really round out this spaceport. I think your best bet for the most money would be some kind of a luxury or fine dining establishment for traders."
"Yeah, when we started, there were barely enough traders to make us profitable on them alone," Enrico completed her thought. Then he explained, "we got lucky that our business is cheap enough for locals. Now most of our business is with Gaks. But with how many bigger ships are coming in with larger crews, I think you could definitely sustain a restaurant that charged higher prices for less volume."
Grayin had seen human commercials for fine dining restaurants. Big empty spaces between tables, fixed courses, and very fancy service. She wasn't sure that it would be the right business model for Gophor, even with the increase in foot traffic. And she knew next to nothing about starting a restaurant business. But she didn't have to run it. She just had to rent it to someone who would.
"Okay," Grayin decided, then asked, "so who would you suggest we contact for someone who would be interested?"
Rey thought about it for a while, but she realized she didn't know. Her contacts really didn't extend much beyond the company she'd work for her entire life. She replied honestly, "I don't know. You could contact Izzy, who we got to handle our rental deal, and ask her if she could give you a recommendation. That's what I'd do."
After getting Isabella's contact information, Grayin and N'har thanked them and started strategizing the call.
Chicago, Earth
"It's another alien trying to rent us property on line three, Izzy," her secretary said to her calmly, as if this was something he did every week.
In a way, it was. Thousands of planets had seen what happened on Gakrek with Rey's franchise. If they were not innovative, at least they could copy. Isabella had to reject many good offworld deals that just didn't have the right infrastructure or didn't make business sense, especially on the smaller spaceports.
She did pretty well for herself too. New corner office. New secretary. New frequent flier card for the recently opened Galactic Express chartered flight company, for when she needed to inspect prospective renters or sellers.
"From where?" she asked smoothly. She had one of those galactic maps projected onto her office wall, with flags on some of her acquisitions. Some school aged kids are learning galactic geography now, but a textbook couldn't teach you which planets had the best economic conditions and on which ones the bribes were cheaper. No, that's what Wikipedia was for.
"It appears to be Gakrek," her secretary replied, "Gophor Spaceport."
Isabella frowned. That's where Rey's franchise was. She wasn't sure there were enough local customers there to support two franchises, and if it did, expanding the spaceport one would probably be the smarter move. She picked up the phone. "Hello, this is Isabella at Franchise Realty Corporation, how may I help you today?"
"Hello Isabella, my name is Grayin. I am from Gophor, on Gakrek. I am a friend of Rey, and I am trying to rent out my property. She said you might be able to recommend someone we could talk to," came her translated voice through the phone.
"Sure," Isabella said, looking up contacts on her tablet. It would be nice to do Rey a favor here. After all, Rey had kickstarted her own offworld real estate career. "What kind of business are you looking for?"
"Oh, it's very similar to Rey's building. We have an additional patio out front with space for outside seating, but other than that, it's pretty much the same. She even let us use her blueprints. We're hoping to find a fine dining business willing to take it on," Grayin replied, mirroring what the humans told her earlier.
"I see," Isabella replied, still searching but suddenly paying a lot more attention to this conversation. She could add two and two together. If this was a completed building just like their existing franchise and this was a friend of Rey's, the business opportunities here were… "Just out of curiosity, how much are you looking to charge for rent?"
Caught slightly off guard, Grayin answered honestly, "we thought we could charge 120,000 credits a month to a big chain, a little more than Rey's because we have more space."
Holy smokes, Isabella thought, another unbelievably great deal. Gophor was just the gift that kept on giving. Normally, her managers wouldn't approve a deal renting another piece of real estate right next to one of their franchises for fear of cannibalizing their own business, but commercial real estate was their bread-and-butter moneymaker. Who cares what fine dining restaurant the folks upstairs would eventually decide to sublet this out to? They wouldn't turn down a free win like this one.
"In that case, I think I might actually be interested in your space," Isabella said, putting down her tablet. "When are you free to do a walkthrough?"
Site 1, Gophor Spaceport
Grayin and N'har watched warily as the spaceport manager entered the front of their newly built construction. It was Garber. Grayin knew exactly what he was there for.
"Welcome to our new building, Garber," she greeted him at the door with a neutral tone, "how can we help you?"
"Ah, Grayin. It's nice to see you," Garber said in a grating snivel, "you look well. I was sad to see you leave our space traffic control tower."
You probably just missed skimming off my salary, Grayin fumed, but kept that part to herself.
He continued, "as you know very well, we have a tradition of maintaining our spaceport here on the donations of our merchants. I'm here to assess a suitable amount for your new store."
"How much do you have in mind?" N'har asked.
Garber looked over as if he'd just noticed N'har's presence, and stroked his snout thoughtfully. He knew he wildly undercharged the humans in the other store. He would not make the same mistake here.
Garber didn't know how much Rey's franchise was actually taking in income, but he thought a ten times increase would be a fairly safe bet. "I think we can start at five hundred fifty credits a month," he sniffed, "that seems reasonable to me."
Both Grayin and N'har managed to keep their composure at this incredibly low figure that represented less than 0.5% of the deal they were going to sign with Isabella later.
N'har glanced to his left, where he noticed Grayin was already taking out her wallet. He gave her a slight shake of his head and sent her a telepathic "no" with his eyes. He would rather Garber not come back with a higher "donation" request every time they built a new building here.
N'har pretended to haggle with Garber, "that seems like a lot of money, Garber. I hear Rey pays much less than that. And we're going to build several more buildings here in the future."
Garber chewed on that thought for a while. After all, he was a reasonable and logical Gak. If what they were saying is true, there will be plenty more credits to extract from them in the future.
"Hmm, in that case, I can give you a discount. Five hundred credits a month," Garber said generously, then added, "but you have to donate that same amount for every new building you put on my spaceport. That's my final offer. We all want your business to be successful."
N'har almost had to stop Grayin from throwing her GC card at Garber.
Constellar Contracting started as a mercenary company on Earth, increasingly taking over the combat roles in humanity's numerous small wars. Due to limited oversight on their operations, they were able to aggressively expand during the early 21st century.
Unfortunately for them, peace came to Earth. It wasn't full utopian world peace, but with economic booms happening on every corner of the globe and weather patterns stabilizing with humanity's fix for climate change, there was less motivation for planetary conflict.
So Constellar turned to the stars. Even in the great galactic Pax Hominum brought on by Earth's economic expansions, there were plenty of opportunities out there for a corporation offering premium security solutions.
After all, there were plenty of conflicts and business to go around in a galaxy of thousands of planets. Olgix was merely one of them.
Territorial Space, Zakabara Second
"Space Lord, we have an incoming communication for you!"
Canouah, the great Space Lord of Zakabara, looked at his subordinate with surprise. His underlings were getting very good at their tasks and normally did not need micromanaging to enforce this months-long blockade. Annoyed, he said, "very well, open it."
"This is Commandant Marie Laurent of the French Space Force, representing the Galactic Union Peacekeeping Force. We are here to enforce our mandate under explicit invitation from the government of Zakabara Second, to ensure that their legal territorial space remains clear of hostile ships. And to facilitate the resumption of trade to the planet. Please stand down your ships and vacate this area within twenty four hours to ensure a peaceful transition of power. Thank you for your cooperation."
Then the human connection cut out without waiting for a reply.
"Someone get me planetary command!"
"How many ships do they have?" Popptaw asked from the viewscreen. Clearly, fighting her way out of this situation was in her instinct.
"Unknown. We could only find the source of the one ship that brought the message, but once they ended their transmission, they sped into a debris field and vanished among the trash," cursed Canouah. He had heard about how Earth ships could disappear like a worm in the mud, but hadn't truly believed it until he saw with his own two eyes. "We can't fight an enemy we do not see, with weapons we can't match, and numbers we don't know."
"So we just give up? We spend all that time and resources building a space fleet for you, and they mean absolutely nothing just because Earth sends maybe one ship?!" Popptaw asked furiously.
"No, we can move back to Prime and protect our home from the humans for when they invade us," Canouah said sadly, "but we can't engage them offensively in deep space around Second. It will just be a waste of ships, and as far as we know, they can build many more of them than we can. We should pull our ships back to defend home."
"No!" Popptaw screeched. "You won't take one step backwards from our defense of OUR system! That's an order!"
"What do you want me to do? Just shoot randomly at empty space until we hit something?" the exasperated space Lord asked. Then, looking at the phone, he realized she'd already hung up.
"What do we do, space Lord?" one of his loyal lieutenants asked, looking at him for guidance on the ambiguous and clearly stupid order.
Canouah thought for a while. Then he had an idea, "we'll wait out the twenty-four hour time limit. If we see any of them, we'll shoot at a couple of them and tell Popptaw we tried. Then we pull back. I'm not going to let thousands of my birds die just because she forgot to take her pills this morning."
Gophor Spaceport, Gakrek
"Do you think we should tell them they're pretty much getting fleeced by Izzy?" Enrico asked, looking out their second story window at their neighbors celebrating the deal signing.
"Nah, it's not that bad for them. One hundred twenty is below market value, but they'll still make their startup costs back in less than half a year," his girlfriend replied. "Besides, no need to go over and ruin their party. They'll learn to charge a higher price next time. Just like how Izzy learned to put that new utility clause in offworld deals."
Most of Grayin's family and friends were here to join in on the celebration. N'har's clan was back on Yis'Meh, but they would be sure to celebrate with them later as well.
"Chug! Chug! Chug!" the crowd yelled at N'har as he guzzled down his mug of Earth imported beer. They didn't live on a wealthy planet, but nobody ever accused the Gaks of not knowing how to have fun.
In one quick motion, he quickly drained his cup, and then turned around to plant a big sloppy kiss on the sensitive snout of a surprised Grayin.
The crowd went silent for a second.
Then, unanimously, they roared their approval in a loud cheer.
A beet-red Grayin returned the favor.
Territorial Space, Zakabara Second
"We see a ping again, commander!" Rekala reported. The humans had some strange technology that allowed them to disappear into the background of orbital debris around Second, but from time to time, they would show up on the radar as they maneuvered.
His commander mulled over this latest development and her orders.
"How far are they from us?" she asked.
Frowning at the radar, Rekala replied, "The ship radar thinks it might be about 320 kilometers away, but its signature is weak and that's at the very edge of our detection range."
"Are they within the MAR?" she asked. This was a loan word borrowed from humans. Many of their technology had been public knowledge, and the nerd birds who scoured the Internet for valuable information had found an air-to-air combat tactical guide.
It became standard training material for Zakabaran spacecraft crews. In this case, MAR stood for Minimum Abort Range. It's the range at which the target would no longer be able to avoid missiles fired from the spacecraft by firing their thrusters.
"No, commander, way out. They'll have over half a minute to respond if we fire now," Rekala replied.
His commander contemplated the information. Their standing orders were to fire warning shots at the humans, but not to destroy them. She doubted that was even possible in the first place.
"Alright, let's load up our missile and fire it at the signature. Let's see what they do."
At the very least, this should be a training experience for the crew. Like most of the Zakabaran fleet, they'd only fired a missile once before, and they had to retrieve and top up the fuel in it after the exercise. Some crews had not even been allowed to train with the system at all.
"I have a lock, commander," Rekala said. He didn't want to start an interplanetary war today. But he wasn't going to disobey orders.
"Fire," she said with more certainty. He depressed the trigger.
An indigenous copy of an old human missile slid out of the cargo bay.
And then, nothing happened. It just sat there.
"What the hell?" Rekala exclaimed, "it worked last time!"
When air-to-air missiles were invented on Earth, they encountered many issues. Early missiles were generally unreliable.
One of those problem missiles was the American-made AIM-4 Falcon. The Falcon had bad combat performance. It was designed to shoot down enemy bombers rather than fighters. It ended up doing neither. The American planes that could only carry missiles, specifically the Falcon, were often outclassed in dogfights by Soviet made planes over Vietnam. It achieved few combat kills.
The biggest problem with early experimental Falcons was that it was completely enclosed in a tube before deployment, so it could only lock-on after launch. This meant that early tests of the Falcon involved firing the missile at where you see the enemy planes, and then hoping that the seeker on the Falcon would also see and track the target on the way.
This was the model that the Zakabarans copied. However, the engineers on Prime were not stupid. They knew this was an issue from the start. They solved this problem on their copied missile; it had a radio that allowed it to communicate targets with the ship's radar before it fired. The lock-on could be done before firing.
The second biggest problem with Falcon was that the seeker was slow because its coolant took a long time to cool. It would take many precious seconds to lock onto enemy planes. The engineers on Prime disregarded this problem. This made sense because ships would have plenty of time to see the enemy in space before they were in range. Combat in space happened much more slowly than in an atmosphere.
Unfortunately for Rekala and his crew, the coolant in the radar seeker was consumed as it tracked a target. After they fired their missile in the training exercise, they retrieved it and topped off the fuel. They did not refill the liquid nitrogen for the seeker.
When the missile deployed, its radar turned towards what the ship told it was an ugly human target… and saw absolutely nothing.
"Alright, let's get out of here before the humans see us!"
"They're moving away from us now," the sensor operator reported to Lt Col Riku.
"Hmm… I wonder if they even saw us."
University of Zakabara Prime
"So they can only be fired once?!" Canouah shouted at the lead engineer angrily.
"Well… if you want to use it again, you need to refill the coolant as well," she told him.
"Why weren't we made aware of this?!"
"You never asked! We didn't realize that you were going to fire them multiple times! And oh yeah, you may need to manually reset the onboard computer."
"What?!" Canouah asked, confused. "Why the computer?"
The engineer fidgeted uncomfortably and explained, "there were some bad memory leaks in the guidance program, so we just doubled the onboard memory and figured that it was a problem that would solve itself when they hit their targets and exploded."
That… was simultaneously the most brilliant and idiotic thing he'd ever heard.
Canouah shot her a withering glare, and then he picked up his radio to his lieutenant. "Yeah, pull back our ships to the line the humans drew. All our ships. We need time to refit and rearm them."
"If we start a fight out there now, we'll do no better than the frogheads."
This marks the end of the Gakrek arc, but their impact will still be seen in subsequent chapters.
The missile memory leak is a reference to a commonly known engineer meme/story. Here it is in its entirety:
I was once working with a customer who was producing on-board software for a missile. In my analysis of the code, I pointed out that they had a number of problems with storage leaks. Imagine my surprise when the customers chief software engineer said "Of course it leaks". He went on to point out that they had calculated the amount of memory the application would leak in the total possible flight time for the missile and then doubled that number. They added this much additional memory to the hardware to "support" the leaks. Since the missile will explode when it hits it's target or at the end of it's flight, the ultimate in garbage collection is performed without programmer intervention.
RoyalRoad
Index
Previous
Next

Sequel to "They Just... Went Around". Sorry it took so long - I was writing another book.
At the edge of the star's gravitational well, a flash of radiation flared as a spacecraft fell out of warp. The flash died a second later, only to to be replaced by the steady, red burn of a fusion torch.
It took some hours for anything else to happen. The craft burned in-system, a direct acceleration curve that took it close to the star. Only when the steady burn was deep inside the gravity well did the rest of the party arrive.
Tens. Hundreds. Thousands. Tens of thousands. The flashes caged the gravity well in a grid of light. They, too, turned into steady burns, although these were cleaner and brighter than the lone light racing into the well ahead of them.
As one, the hundred-thousand-strong cage of mighty spacecraft collapsed into the gravity well, falling onto the star and the prey that was racing for it.
---
Normally, no one had the motivation to swear under three gravities of acceleration. The Captain of UNE Tiny had no motivation either. What he had was character.
"Holy fucking crap," he groaned into the threefold weight of his own body. Reinforced muscles groaned to force out the human's verbal rage, an effort that no natural human could hope to muster. "I still can't believe they just... stopped fighting and turned on us."
"Yes, sir," agreed Tactical. "All we did was kill a few million logistics personnel. No loss there."
"Fuck you," said Logistics from behind his console.
"Seriously," said the Captain, ignoring his crew's behavior. "They were fighting. Millions were dying. And then they just... stopped?"
"You want the real joke?" offered Intel. "As we left, I saw them merge their tactical networks. They had compatible tactical grids. And they merged them."
"Yeah... not a surprise," said the Captain. "We did just see a space equivalent of a musket-line fight. I bet their ammunition is compatible, in case one sides runs out before the other, and they need to share."
---
The Captain's joke was, unsurprisingly, also very true. The Red and Blue fleets had, in fact, equalized their ammunition reserves amongst themselves before warping in pursuit of the dishonorable.
The Red and Blue Admirals were still aboard their flagships, but their respective dreadnaughts were now only a thousand kilometers apart, and moving in formation in order to simplify coordination.
There was no friction, competition or distrust here. Both Admirals - both fleets - were single-minded in their action and training. Upbringing, tradition and honor drove the hundred-thousand ships to mirror one-another as they dove into the system.
"Map, report," willed the Blue Admiral.
"Yellow star. Planet. Planet. Asteroid belt. Planet. Asteroid belt. Four gas giants. Nothing else to report."
"Tactical, where are the Humans going?"
"Densest part of the innermost belt, sir."
"Intel, why this system?"
"Unknown," reported Intel. "System has no notes in our files."
There was nothing else for the Blue Admiral to say, no orders to give, no questions to ask. They went were the dishonorable prey fled. It was as simple as that.
---
Halfway to its destination, Tiny turned around and began to decelerate. Satisfied that their prey was not attempting to rush through the system and flee, the thousands of craft on the other side of the system shifted formation in preparation for their own deceleration maneuver.
Hours later, Tiny slowed to a stop relative to the star and asteroid belt.
Their pursuers, still hours behind on their own deceleration curves, began to launch fighters. As dictated by tradition, the larger ships stayed back, even as faster craft rushed ahead to close with the dishonorable. Red and Blue corvettes, gunships and light cruisers moved in a more narrow collapsing globe as they prepared to crush the lone craft that had dared to break millennia-old traditions.
The first of the fighters began adjusting their courses, steering clear of the rocks that began to populate their course.
---
UNE Tiny was sitting still at the most dense segment of what used to be a planet. Her crew was silent as they watched their screens and plots. It was an impressive sight - hundreds of thousands of spacecraft drives, all burning directly at Tiny as the absurd globe slowed so as not to fly past them.
"All targets are within optimal range," whispered Tactical. "Largest elements are within the hundred-light-second radius.
The Captain turned to Sensors. "Cameras on?"
"Cameras on," confirmed Sensors.
"Prepare to call."
"I can do you one better," offered Comms.
The Captain glanced a frown at the officer. "What do you mean?"
---
Both the Red and Blue Admirals flinched and recoiled when their displays flickered. The useless, information-free starscapes being displayed there vanished as the face of a Human appeared form the static.
"Admirals."
The two Admirals - who were doing the only thing they were good by yelling at their subordinates - shut up and turned to face their screens. The scene was mirrored across the Red and Blue flagships with near-perfect precision.
"Do you know where you are?"
No one spoke up. No one knew.
"This is the Graveyard."
"Whose Graveyard?" snapped the two Admirals as one, and their eyes widened as the Human on their screens smiled - he could see them.
The Captain didn't show it, but he was ecstatic - the bastards had answered exactly as he had hoped, calculated and prayed they would.
"Ours, and yours."
---
A hundred thousand spacecraft - all decorated works of art by any standard - were expensive to make. By comparison, a hundred thousand antimatter bombs cost about as much as ten of the fleet's thousand battleships.
The hundred-light-second globe of engine flares and ships disappeared in the overwhelming light and radiation of antimatter annihilation.
The lights were pretty, but, in the void's vast scope, harmless on their own. It was the invisible rays of death that did the real work - the small, sheathed charges exploded thousands, millions of kilometers away from their targets, but a sizable portion of their radiation was directed in narrow rays that struck the decelerating spacecraft with cones of unfiltered hate.
Most of the united fleet was almost still when the world exploded around it. When the glow of annihilations faded, their engines were no longer burning.
A globe of dead spacecraft drifted around the remnants of Earth.
Two dreadnaughts remained.
Two paralyzed Admirals stared at the feeds that had been hacked and forced onto their displays.
Two creatures listened to the static-piercing voice of the Human talking through the flag deck speakers.
"You deemed our world dishonorable. Your tradition dictated it be destroyed. Your people applauded as you tried to commit genocide, only to forget the action a generation later. Such is your culture - now, you witness ours. Your deaths will satisfy our honor. Your extinction will be our tradition. Our people will applaud your end. Unlike you, we will be thorough. Flee home, so your worlds may know fear before they die."
---
On the edge of the star system, a formation three hundred UNE battlecraft sat in the ruins of the enemy logistics fleet. Now, their telescopes and sensors were pointed in-system, at Earth's ruin. Thousands of crew stared, silent and pensive, as the light of judgement washed over them, the light delay allowing the observers to watch without spoiling the view with the flashes of their distant arrival.
The Unyielding Nightmares of Earth watched as UNE Tiny spoke death from within the dissipating cloud of radiation, and tracked the two dreadnaughts as they fled the system.
The UNE Admiral waved with two of her fingers, and her Tactical tapped their consoles. Warp drones scattered across the system's edges flashed away. Each carried orders for the bombs drifting far above every Red and Blue planet in the galaxy - wait for the planet to receive the news, wait a day for the panic to spread, and then kill them.
Kill them all.

Today, B'tselem, the most prominent Israeli NGO dealing with Palestinian human rights, made the single most important declaration in its 31 year history: Israel is an Apartheid state. Not the West Bank, let alone merely Area C of the West Bank. All of it.
This revelation made a few headlines, but so far, nobody seems to be rattled. Both pro-Israelis and pro-Palestinians view it as just another leftist organization that denounces the "Zionist entity". Both the rage the pro-Israelis and center-right Israelis feel about it, and the joy the pro-Palestinians feel, is rather limited. But for me, it's an end of an era, and a sad letter of surrender.

B'tselem and the left-wing Zionist narrative

Without going too much into the history of how that happened, the Israeli Zionist left-wing since the 1990's was guided by a pretty clear narrative:

1. Israel being a Zionist, Democratic and Jewish state is possible, desirable, and more or less describes the situation today.
2. Like many other democratic nation-states, Israel has an issue with discrimination against its minorities. It has to work tirelessly to end that discrimination. This lead to the creation of several key laws against discrimination and segregation, ending some long-standing discriminatory policies, and measurably improving the lives of non-Jewish, but also non-Straight, and non-Male people in Israel.
3. "Apartheid" is if Israel decides to revoke civil rights from its non-Jewish citizens, and primarily, their right to vote, be elected, and serve in the government. We must do everything we can to not become "Apartheid".
4. The 1967 occupation of the West Bank and Gaza is problematic and must end. Ending it will usher a new era of peace, security and prosperity for both Israelis and Palestinians alike. If Israel doesn't end it, and annexes those territories, it would either become a non-Jewish state, or a non-democratic, Apartheid state.
5. The settlements and settlers are a huge problem, mostly because they make #3 far too hard.

B'tselem fit like a glove within that narrative, and played a key role for people who believed in it. It documented the injustices of the occupation proving point 3. It meticulously documented the settlements project to promote point 4. All in the service of a just, secure, and democratic Jewish state.
Because it was so important in that narrative, left-wing Israelis would ignore its flaws. From hiring Holocaust deniers, to repeating untruths, and even using the Apartheid analogy before. As long as it was in the service of proving just how awful the occupation is, it's all in the service of the greater good.
With their statement, B'tselem spit in the face of that narrative, and the people who believe in it. No, the old left-wing Israeli adage of "the occupation corrupts" is not true. Israel is already deeply corrupt from its very inception. The occupation, and the difference between it and Israel proper, is not difference between just and unjust, permanent and temporary, pride and shame. It's a mere calculated ruse, a "different package of rights" given to some Palestinians, to "divide an conquer".

Using "Apartheid State" was a choice

Before we tackle the question of why B'tselem made that choice, and whether it was wise to make it, we must deal with the obvious question: maybe they're just telling the objective truth? After all, we can't fault an organization dealing with climatology declaring climate change is real, or Yad Vashem declaring the Holocaust was a genocide.
But that's pretty obviously not the case. B'tselem refused to acknowledge that "obvious fact" for thirty years of its existence, and instead aligned itself with that standard left-wing Israeli narrative. And by their own admission, nothing really changed recently, that turned Israel from a non-Apartheid state, into an Apartheid state. The only thing that happened is that some things have "proven", to B'tselem's management, that Israel was always an Apartheid state, even before its occupation of the 1967 territories. And that in fact, it being an Apartheid state is written into the very core of its existence as a Jewish state.
B'tselem argument itself, is no stronger than the average "Apartheid" accusation, and in some ways weaker. Since they decided to not tell overt lies, they begrudgingly admit the core weakness of their own argument, while making it. Israeli Arabs can vote and get elected. They served in all branches of government. They served as doctors, lawyers, and soldiers, alongside Jews. Discrimination and segregation are not the law of the land, but rather a criminal and civil offense. Even racist speech is illegal.
Those are not cosmetic differences between Israel and South Africa. Not "visual components", as their spokesperson put it. Those are the very core of what we understand as Apartheid today. And this is all waved away with the claim that the only thing that's important is the "organizing principle" of "systematically promoting the dominance of one group over another and working to cement it". How is that fundementally different from any ethnic nation-state with a racism problem, that often have similar "discriminatory" immigration policies, budgetary discrimination and so on? Or for that matter, with the concept of occupation under international law, which "cements" this dominance as a matter of binding legal principle? They don't seem to dwell on those questions. Highlighting just how precarious that argument is, and everything but the obvious objective truth, that was staring at us all along.
To summarize, despite their claims of "acknowledging a reality", it's pretty obvious that B'tselem made a decision to change course, and change its guiding narrative. And it was not because Israel became an Apartheid state during that time, or because it's an objective, undeniable truth that they - an organization literally devoted to documenting Israeli human rights abuses, somehow failed to notice.

What it means for B'tselem's narrative

Like with every major narrative shift, B'tselem previous positions must be re-examined. In an interview with the far-left blog +972 magazine (and their Hebrew version, Sicha Mekomit), their spokesperson pointed out that their commitment to the Apartheid narrative doesn't negate the Occupation narrative, but in fact, somehow strengthens it. This is obviously a difficult proposition. How can belligerent occupation, a legal framework that officially legalizes and formalizes "dominance of one group over another", allows a group to control another without giving them citizenship, can co-exist at the same time with Apartheid, which is basically the same thing, but without the military context? Most proponents of Apartheid chose to abandon that notion, call the Israeli occupation a "de-facto annexation", and therefore immediately flipping the switch from legal occupation to illegal Apartheid.
So far, they didn't disclose what that argument might be, but I'll just say that even if it makes any legal sense, the potlicial strength of their argument is still gone.
How can you obsess over the settlements, and not building in, say, Tel Aviv, if it's just a "single regime"? You certainly can't cry about it "entrenching the occupation", when you admit that it's an Apartheid state even without the occupation, and that the occupation itself is more of a dirty trick by Zionists to divide and conquer, than some aberration that corrupts Israel from within.
How can you speak out against annexation, when it's merely giving a better "package of rights" to Palestinians? Or at the very most, a non-issue, since this "single Apartheid regime" is already entrenched and all the peace talks, and discussions of its temporary nature are mere charades?
What are you going to say, if Israel revokes the citizenship of its Arab citizens tomorrow? For left-wing Israelis, it's a defining bright-red line. The moment we all agree Israel turns from a normal democracy with issues, to an Apartheid state, that can only be dismantled. But if it's already an Apartheid state, and it's merely a "different package of inferior rights", you don't really have a rhetorical leg to stand on.

Why B'tselem doesn't care

In the same interview with +972, B'tselem's Orly Noy talks about how difficult this decision was. How their leadership realized that this is a loaded term among the Israeli public. But it still has to make a brave choice, and admit reality. And that it's ultimately not a white flag of surrender but a call to action.
I disagree.
Reading that text as an Israeli, makes it very clear that this is a repudiation of Israel as a state, and of the Israelis as a meaningful force for change within it. The basic idea of it being "Apartheid", while not offering any solution, implies a single Palestinian-ruled state, which no mainstream Israeli leftist would agree to. The low-key repudiation of the Law of Return as key in Apartheid oppression, undermines the single holiest principle all Zionists agree with. And even the language, belies treating Israel as not their own state, but an evil "other". The document consistently uses the term "the Israeli regime" to describe Israel's governments, within Israel proper, even in Hebrew.
They're clearly not talking the language of the Israeli left here. Or a language any sizable portion of the Israeli population would agree with. They're talking to Israel's enemies, mostly abroad, and calling to find a place among them. This declaration is not a brave statement, but a cowardly withdrawal from the Israeli discourse, and the novel idea of trying to change Israel from within. And escaping, with their tail behind their legs, to the already-overcrowded corner of anti-Israeli leftist organizations, that desire to dismantle the hated "Zionist entity", that existed well before B'tselem was founded.
Why? The answer is pretty simple, if you look at the current election polls. The Israeli Zionist left, has been reduced to nearly nothing. It bet big on the Oslo accords and the Gaza withdrawal, and both blew up in their faces. With the latter being the most humiliating, proving every single right-wing prediction right, and every single left-wing prediction wrong. Ultimately, they don't really have a base to speak to within Israel. While of course, there was never a shortage of people who hate Israel, and the very idea of a Jewish state, abroad.

Why most Israelis won't care

B'tselem hasn't shifted to that position in a day. They've been on that path for a while. Similar organizations, like Breaking the Silence, made a similar move. If you ask a right-wing Israeli, or even a centrist Israeli, what they think about B'tselem, it would probably be something along the lines of "anti-Zionist treasonous organization using lies to harm Israel". And B'tselem's declaration of Israel being an Apartheid State, rather than merely "acting in an Apartheid-like manner in the occupied territories", is basically meaningless. In fact, I bet most of the Israelis replying here, would say something to that effect.
But for me, it's another nail in the coffin of the Israeli left-wing narrative, and along with it, the most realistic way to achieve peace and prosperity for both Jews and Palestinian Arabs. B'tselem is throwing out the narrative of a "democratic state", that lead to so many actual improvements in the equality and quality of life of the Arab Israelis. They're throwing out the narrative of an "occupation" in favor of some muddled, weird argument. In favor of a pipe dream of a one-state solution, that very few Israelis, and even fewer Palestinians, would accept. And they're doing both at a key juncture, where both are under direct attack. They're removing themselves from the Israeli political equation, willingly delegitimizing themselves, proving all of their detractors wrong, and ultimately doing more damage to their cause than simply dissolving themselves as an organization would ever do.
Most Israelis won't even notice they're gone, let alone miss the kind of politics they represented. But I will.

Book 1 of The HEL Jumper
Book 2 of The HEL Jumper
-----
Previous | First | Next | Patreon
Thanks to Big_Papa_Dakky, Darth_Android, bloblob, AMERICUH, The_Real_Jumper, Mr_Polygon, Krystalin, Damned_Thrice, Mamish, Vikairious, Sam_Berry, RedHawkdude, KillTech, LilLaussa, Daddy_Talon, Gruecifer, Gaelan_Darkwater, Konrahd_Verdammt, red-shirt, DaPorkchop, Benjamin Durbin, Siddabear, and everyone supporting me on patreon.
-----
“This is new,” Veera mused, padding around her husband as he clothed himself in a dress uniform for the first time in many months. She could tell he hated it from the moment he pulled on the well creased pants, but he uttered not a single complaint. Instead, Veera did what she could to adjust things here and there. It was easy enough to guess that much of the symbology on the uniform was meant to denote his rank of First Lieutenant, and she was able to properly read his last name where it sat above his heart. She hoped her small touches here and there were welcome. “I don’t dislike it though. You look very important, my dear.”
“Well I’m glad someone likes it,” Russell replied, leaning over for a kiss before placing the navy cap on his head to round out the look.
“After seeing it so many times on Io I was wondering if I’d ever get to see it on you. Perhaps we can air it out and work the material to make it more comfortable?” Veera suggested.
‘Oh my dear Veera, the Admiral might agree with you but military garb is meant to be anything but comfortable. See how straight it makes him stand?’ Io observed, dressed similarly to Russell though without rank insignia. They were back aboard the Event Horizon in their cabin, a place for a private night alone once the two of them had gotten over the shock of Veera’s pregnancy. Veera had been sorrowful upon seeing her rose had wilted, as all cut flowers eventually do, but a quick trip to hydroponics alleviated that sadness. In a move that had surprised both Winters and Io, Veera promptly spilled the beans about her cubs to Anita as they watered her orchids. The young Indian woman had not known what to say when Veera had insisted they were Russell’s, but as time went on he understood why she’d decided to broach the subject at all. Far from judgment, Anita had offered them congratulations and well wishes when they parted. She had also offered her condolences regarding the Lancer, which the Jumper accepted quietly.
“Let’s just head to the shuttle bay. It’s almost time,” Winters suggested, surveying himself one final time in the mirror to ensure he was presentable. He wasn’t sure he recognized the man staring back at him. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing either. Veera took his hand.
“Today we can deliver them some good news,” she pointed out. He nodded and furrowed his brow.
“I know, but they’re still gone.”
‘I will be at the shuttle bay. Take your time,’ Io said, leaving them alone for a moment. Veera leaned against Russell and sighed deeply, not knowing what she could say to him. No one had been able to comfort her with words when her mother had passed either, nor when her father failed to return from the hunt.
“Thank you,” he whispered, leading her out into the hallways and on towards the shuttle that would take them to the place his pod had landed a year ago, fleeing the destruction of his ship and the wrath of Seil. When they arrived they were met by Pilot Cromwell, Admiral Kaczynski, and the Beta Jumper team. Russell managed a smile when he saw Rex, Lipper, and the others in uniform.
“At least they get to be as uncomfortable as me today,” he said quietly to Veera before saluting Natori and the others. “Thank you all.”
“We are here to pay our respects to the dead. Rivalry can wait for a day,” Mendes spoke, earning curt nods from the rest of his squad. Given that they all carried rifles, it was clear that Natori intended to live up to his promise of not shortchanging the fallen. Winters returned the greeting, a bare minimum he was willing to observe on that day in memory of Jessica and the others. They all turned towards the entrance of the shuttle bay as Alice and Lachlan arrived together, the former dressed in HEL dress blues without rank and the latter dressed in the tartan kilt of his clan and carrying a set of bagpipes under his arm. Veera looked at Russell for explanation as the Jumper first hugged his sister in greeting and then shook hands with Lachlan.
“It was yer sister and the Admiral’s idea. Hope ya don’t mind, sir.”
“I can’t play an instrument to save my life, Private. Assuming you can, I think the dead will appreciate it. Thank you.”
“If I may interrupt just a moment?” Natori requested, taking a step closer and gesturing to another shuttle next to Cromwell’s. “For the sake of ceremony it was my plan to arrive along with those conducting the triple volley today. I have three Marine volunteers as I assumed you would prefer to pay your respects as family. If you would prefer-”
“No that’s… that’s fine. Thank you, sir,” Russell replied stiffly. Natori dipped his head and gestured that Mendes and his team should get aboard.
“I suspect you are already tired of saying thank you, so you need not,” Kaczynski insisted, his tone hardening. “This is the least they deserve, and I will devote every effort to ensure that we bring word of their fate to their families once today’s ceremony is concluded, even if it means destroying that Forge.”
“We are ready to assist in discovering if there is an alternative,” Russell responded as Alice and Lachlan boarded Cromwell’s shuttle. “And if the Private needs a hill for those pipes, there are more than a few down there.”
“I can never tell when you Winters men are serious or joking,” Natori remarked with a hint of a smile. “I will see you down there, Lieutenant.”
“All aboard then. Let’s not keep the dead waiting,” Cromwell added, patting the ‘hood’ of her shuttle as the engines of the second spun up.
‘Nor the living. Room for one more?’ Io’s voice asked via their various earpieces. Veera looked around curiously.
“There’s always room for you, Io,” she replied sweetly, figuring that should be obvious. The AI’s voice laughed and faded, only to sound again from the hangar entrance. Natori’s mouth dropped open and Veera gasped loud enough to echo throughout the metal room as a sixth HEL Jumper stood at the threshold, clad in a pure white Aegis Mark II suit with emerald trim on the legs, shoulders, and arms. Rex, who was halfway into the second shuttle, began physically pulling his mates back out so they could get a better look. More than a few questions and curses were uttered quietly among the four of them.
“No…” Kaczynski whispered, awestruck, his shoulders slack in disbelief. His tone indicated what he likely meant was ‘yes’.
‘I was so hoping you would say that, Veera. I would hate to miss this. And what’s with that look, Natori? You’re the only one here who shouldn’t be surprised,’ Io insisted from beneath a helmet, kicking off and floating down to land in front of Russell, who was standing still as a stone, his jaw so tight that Veera could make out the tendons that connected his mandible to its various controlling muscles. He’d removed his visor from the side of his head and slipped it into his pocket, looking down slightly at the helmet Io had been using to project her voice. ‘Well? Go ahead before I think better of this,’ she whispered, her tone both tempting and wracked with nerves heavier than a young woman at the altar.
“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Alice murmured from her seat, punching Lachlan in the thigh repeatedly as her brother undid the helmet seals and lifted the armor away, revealing a shock of voluminous blonde hair done up in a bun and bright emerald eyes that shimmered as though she was crying. Across the shuttle bay, Natalya promptly reversed Rex’s actions, pushing her team back into the shuttle and then tugging on Natori by the back of his uniform’s collar. She had only seen a man make the face that Russell Winters was making once in her life.
“Sir, I believe it is time to leave,” she insisted, making it clear it wasn’t a choice. Natori nodded silently, saluted, and departed, leaving the three of them with his ‘blessing’ as the shuttle kicked off the ground and headed for the planet. Veera’s feathers were vibrating about as fast as she could ever remember, but she waited patiently, allowing Russell his moment in what she could only describe as a miracle. Spirits only walked among the living in stories.
‘I’m not… whole yet, but I could not be at your side when they were laid to rest and to do so again seemed unacceptable. I wanted this to be a surprise but-’ Io gasped and her face twitched in pain as Russell brushed her cheek with his hand, rewriting various calculations and sensitivities until his touch felt warm and gentle. She had been watching him and Veera over many evenings, and knew well enough what it should feel like. Even if she hadn’t, the ‘literature’ on the subject was clear. ‘This seemed more important. Sir?’
Russell was gritting his teeth, visibly and audibly, the area between his brows furrowing as he tried to process what he was seeing, what he was feeling. Her voice wasn’t in his ear. She was giving off body heat. Her eyes were tracking his. The woman who cheated death once and then stared it in the face with him a second time was there, in front of him, real. He felt the tension in his calves and hamstrings as he began falling forward slowly. She reached out for him. He held the back of her head and the curve of her waist. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry today,” he whispered as something warm and wet landed on Io’s neck. “What in the world?”
‘It’s alright, sir. I am very much in the same boat!’ Io offered, her voice cracking as her armored limbs gently wrapped around him and began squeezing. ‘It’s really me though, I promise. Please say when?’ she requested.
“Right there is good,” he managed, closing his eyes as tightly as he could and fighting to control himself. “I wasn’t ready for this.”
‘Like I said, that makes two of us!’ Io sobbed, feeling her tear ducts activate. ‘Oh gods it’s working. I’m crying! Veera, if you wouldn’t mind saving us from ourselves here?’
At the AI’s plea, Veera threw herself onto them both. She shouted the obvious as she nuzzled them, earning a surprised but subsequently pleasant laugh from the AI. “Io! You have a body!”
‘Most of one! Hence the armor,’ she elaborated, running her fingers over Veera’s garments and then fur. She hoped she was being just forceful enough to convey longing and affection. ‘Oh Veera, I’m so happy for you. What a stress test of emotions! My legs are shaking.’
“Come on then, let’s get settled,” Russell suggested, slowly backing away until Io was at arm’s length. For long seconds he waited but the right words never came to him. “I’m sorry, Io. You deserve more than me staring at you like an idiot.”
‘Mein barbar…’ Io began, falling silent and eventually bobbing her head repeatedly as she faced the same conundrum. ‘We shall continue to be idiots together, it seems. But first let us say our official farewells and give well wishes to Jess and the crew. I do not know how long this platform will last carrying around an Aegis. It is rather heavy, and a testament to your physique.’
“You know all about my physique, but ok,” he agreed, escorting her and Veera to the shuttle while Alice waved happily at Io’s new form. Lachlan was plenty surprised, but having been in the room during the initial negotiations between Antoth, Natori, Russell, and Io, it was more amazement than anything else. Pilot Cromwell made no complaints, having received specific instructions from the Admiral the moment his own shuttle had departed to escort the pretty blonde ‘Jumper’ to the memorial site, no questions asked. As they travelled, Veera glanced over at Io.
“How did you do it, Io? This is amazing! Oh, are you not feeling well?” the Cauthan wondered, seeing that the AI appeared to be in some amount of mild distress based on her facial expressions.
‘No no, my dear, I simply have not had time to calibrate everything. It’s not an exaggeration to say I rushed this body out the door half finished, but I won’t be throwing up or anything so uncouth. Ah, there we are, that feels much better. Veera, what does it feel like for you when you are in these shuttles? How about you, Alice? Oh, and I apologize, Lachlan. You look quite dashing in a kilt. I did not mean to ignore you.’
“You an’ the Admiral have been quite busy I wager,” the Scotsman remarked evenly. Io smiled.
‘He has been quite supportive in this endeavor, yes. And before you become righteously indignant, Russell, I hope you will understand that I did not wish you to see me like some sort of skeleton or half finished experiment.’
Russell smiled faintly and caught her eye. They looked remarkably real, down to the slightly yellow hue of her sclera, but something inhuman shimmered about them as well, a certain something he could not quite place. He found it appropriate, however. “I understand. How are you powering this thing?”
‘A lot of batteries, for the moment,’ Io replied in a disappointed tone. ‘You have no idea how remarkable the human body is until you try to replicate it; or the Cauthan body for that matter, my dear Veera. I am still weighing the pros and cons of an internal biomass reactor or attempting to reverse engineer the nuclear power core we found in the ruins of the Forge.’
“And just casually catapult human technology forward a thousand years?” Alice asked with a smile. “Lord knows you probably have already depending on what you used to make whatever is under that armor.”
‘That’s kind of you, Alice, but I don’t think I have,’ Io admitted. ‘That was my initial goal, yes, to create an artificial body that maintained itself much as a human’s does, but the Admiral and the realities of physics conspired to dissuade me from that course. Perhaps when this is all done I will simply need maintenance while the rest of you need sleep? Going forward, however, there are many avenues to explore depending on how widely accepted and disseminated the knowledge of my existence is on Earth. I know we joke about him sometimes, but Admiral Kaczynski is a very wise man.’ The AI’s somber and reflective tone was unexpected, but Veera was all smiles.
“You should join us when we pray next. I am sure that Tyrdus will hear you,” she offered happily, taking Io’s hand in hers. “You really made this?”
‘I had a lot of help, Veera, but yes. I was not gifted this body by the gods… not like you were gifted your cubs, which I one day hope to hold alongside you,’ Io said with open longing.
“They are really just trying to make me cry today.” Russell laughed and shook his head, throwing his arm around Io’s shoulders, made unnaturally broad by the armor that concealed her unfinished form. “Io, Veera and I will be there for you if you let us, alright?”
‘You are very good at saying quite a lot with few words,’ the AI countered in a friendly tone, knowing he was referring both to the past and the future. ‘There will be no secrets, I promise. There were just some moments of frustration that I did not want to burden you with, not now as we prepare to say goodbye and not as you two prepare to be parents. But I promise.’
“Hey, if my brother is being a lunk you can always come to me!” Alice offered. Io smiled at her.
‘I believe having a friend that is both human and female would be quite beneficial. There are some things he just doesn’t understand,’ the AI lamented.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Russell demanded, doing his best to sound offended as they began to feel the rumblings of the atmosphere around the shuttle.
Alice laughed. “That’s exactly what we mean.”
-----
“Mmm, it’s like they know,” Russell remarked of the gods, stepping out of the shuttle into a dreary day on Mara. The cool winds from the area around the Forge seemed to have made their way east, reminding him very much of how the area had looked and felt the day he’d informally laid the crew to rest. The only difference was a lack of fog due to the warmer, end of summer temperatures. Taking Io by the hand, he and Veera walked over to where Antoth and Thantis awaited. Upon seeing her face Thantis dropped to his knees, prompting Io to rush over, spluttering in embarrassment.
‘My friend, stop this! Please stand,’ she insisted in fluent Cauthan. ‘I am not one of your gods. I never have been. Were you waiting long for us?’
“You make it seem as though I would not know a miracle when I see one. I’d like to think I’m old and wise enough to understand what’s right in front of me,” Thantis replied as he accepted her help. “It is not every day that spirits choose to walk among us. Will you be gracing our village with your presence?”
‘Maybe one day,’ Io offered, a rosy hue accenting her cheeks. Russell couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d been going at the task of constructing her body, though he suspected the answer. ‘Today is only for a brief while. We’re grateful that you came all this way.’
“More wished to,” Antoth explained. “But you insisted that this not be a grand affair, Winters. So it is just us today.”
“And I appreciate it,” the human affirmed. “Sorry to disappoint the others, it just feels wrong. There will be enough pomp and circumstance from our end anyway.”
“I must admit to some curiosity,” Thantis said, glancing around at the handful of humans who had descended to participate in the honoring of the dead. Natori strode forward to join them.
“That is it, there?” he asked, gesturing to the shrine Winters had constructed a year earlier. A stone or two had been dislodged during that time, coming to rest on the grassy ground below, but the monument remained whole, along with the memorial plaque left by Russell and Io.
“Yes sir, I just need to tidy up a bit,” Russell replied.
“Go on then, we will begin as soon as your task is complete. Antoth, Thantis, allow me to extend my thanks for your presence here. Might I request that the two of you begin the ceremony in your own manner? It is customary in our military funerals to first have a service performed by a priest or other religious figure. I believe it would be appropriate,” Natori explained.
“We can do that,” Antoth confirmed shortly. The priest of Seil wore the ‘uniform’ of his office that day, and Veera sensed that he might even have been thankful for an opportunity to don his old armor again, detailed with all manner of runes and symbols to honor the sun. It did not shine or sparkle like the tokens of his predecessor, but that was very much by design.
It was not long before Russell rejoined them, leading Veera and Io to stand with Alice at a respectful distance from the shrine. As they had the year before, both Antoth and Thantis presented carved tokens invoking the favor of the Cauthan gods. Alice, Natori and the others looked on with great curiosity while Veera, Russell, and Io stood close to one another and remained silent, thinking fondly of the departed. When the Cauthan priests were finished with their dedications, having said what needed to be said the prior year, they joined Veera’s group as Admiral Kaczynski signaled to his crew to proceed. Led by Lance Corporal Mendes, the Jumpers from the Event Horizon and three Marines raised standard M-22 service rifles and fired three volleys whose crack rumbled across the plains to the south. When the sound had died down and the riflemen returned their weapons to a resting position, Io assured Thantis she would explain the tradition at another time. As the service continued, the AI figured that she would very likely need to answer questions not just on the significance of a triple volley salute, but also questions on the nature of bagpipes.
“What a haunting sound,” Thantis could not help but whisper as the opening notes of Amazing Grace carried from where Lachlan stood at the top of the gentle slope that led from Veera’s old farm down to the river’s edge. Alice could not help but agree, the mournful warbling of the pipes and the drawn, stone-like expression on her brother’s face bringing a tear or two to her own eyes. She had only known Jessica Yang in passing, and was unfamiliar with the rest of the Lancer’s crew, but it was plain to see how much they meant to Russell, and so she cried softly for the one man they had all left behind, reaching up to dry her eyes only when the final note held before fading away through the trees across the river. Finally it was Natori’s turn to speak. The Admiral walked calmly to the shrine, brushing a finger gently over the message left by the First Lieutenant and his AI. He smiled modestly as he turned to face those gathered, looking to Io and Russell.
“I am, regretfully, not a man possessing the faculties to make such a dedication of my own; nor would I wish to dilute the words you have already carved and left here. Instead, I shall allow the esteemable Lord Tennyson to speak for me as tribute to our honored dead.” Natori paused to collect his thoughts and clear his throat before reciting the selected portion of the poem from memory.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Upon his conclusion, Natori closed his eyes in a moment of private prayer before speaking to those assembled. “We resolve today that these souls were not lost in vain, and that the trail they blazed shall become a thoroughfare among the stars. Keep them in your hearts as you return to your important work. Thank you, everyone.”
As the final act of the ceremony, Kaczynski laid a folded HEL flag atop the shrine, settling it so that it propped up the existing plaque for better reading. He nodded silently to the Beta Jumpers and other military personnel, who saluted and proceeded from the site back to their shuttle. The Admiral then approached Winters’ group, speaking first to Antoth and Thantis. “Thank you again for your presence here to honor our dead. I will ensure their families and superior officers know of your kindness. First Lieutenant, I believe it’s time your pod was finally retrieved. I will arrange for a heavy lift shuttle tonight. Given the length of your stay I’m guessing you may have some personal effects still stored?”
“I’ll collect them and return them to the village, sir. Thank you.”
Natori lifted his cap from his head and ran a hand over his hair. Replacing it, he proclaimed their new course of action. “It is now our duty to make it back to Earth with their memory. Please continue your work with Alice among the Cauthan. We will call upon you if your presence is needed at the Forge. And Io?”
‘Yes, Admiral?’ she replied, surprised to have been addressed.
“I don’t disapprove of your presence here today, but I would ask that you please inform me if you intend to requisition or produce arms or armor. There is protocol to be observed, and the cat is now out of the bag, so to speak.”
‘I’m sorry, Natori. I was rather nervous,’ Io explained, earning her a hug from Veera. Thantis seemed both happy and stunned that she would so casually rub herself against divinity. The Admiral nodded.
“I understand, but nervousness is not an excuse to break the rules. Next time, if you please,” he insisted kindly. Russell finally spoke up.
“Io, Veera and I-”
‘I know, sir,’ she cut him off, her voice emotionally laden. ‘I’m not going about this in such a way because I don’t trust you. I’m doing this because you and I have been together from the day I was born, from the day we lost your dear friends. There are some things I would prefer you not see, especially since I am already feeling my power reserves draining,’ she explained, covering her mouth as a wide yawn overtook her. Natori’s expression was more than emotive enough to convey how impressed he was. She smiled at them all. ‘I thought that was a nice touch. I should be back with you and Veera by the time you return to the village, sir. I just need to return my body to my… workshop?’
“Well then take good care of her, Admiral, if you please,” Russell insisted.
“Happily, Lieutenant. I daresay the science teams at the forge would appreciate an AI looking over their shoulder today; the portable reactor core is now in our possession and under study. Given how fruitless our attempts at miniaturizing Ghaelen reactors have been, I think you all understand the potential?”
‘We will discuss sometime soon, in another place,’ Io suggested, giving Alice a brief hug before embracing Veera again and finally Russell. She lingered in his arms the longest, blushing as she accepted the fact that her programming desired far less armor between the two of them. ‘Thank you, for everything.’
“And I’m the one who says a lot with few words?” he laughed, fighting back the desire to simply hold onto her for the rest of the day, to allow the bad memories to wash away and embrace the idea that he was going to be a father. Having an AI around to help out made it easier to contemplate, and he was willing to bet Io wouldn’t have it any other way. “We’ll see you soon then.”
‘Yes sir. Why don’t you and Veera share the good news with the crew now that the official ceremony has concluded? I think they would all be so happy for you two. But farewell for now. Oh, and Antoth?’
“What is it, spirit Io?” the stoic Cauthan asked, one hand on the pommel of his sword.
‘Should I be offended you didn’t also drop to your knees upon seeing me in the flesh?’ she wondered with a coy smile. He bared a few of his teeth on the right side of his mouth.
“Just the opposite. I daresay miracles are what I’ve come to expect from you and Winters by now. I hope we’ll see you for the harvest. Our bounty this year is thanks to the two of you in no small part.”
Io’s smile widened genuinely. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
-----
“Momma, why’s uncle Lachlan wearing a dress? Those are for girls!” Ursol insisted upon seeing the burly Scot’s naked calves for the first time. The Marine in question threw Alice a silent ‘I told you so’ as Sentaura picked up her boy.
“Hmm, that appears to be more of a skirt, my dear, but I must admit to my own curiosity. The rains will come later so I spent the morning making stew. Join us, please. How was the ceremony?” she wondered, stoking the fire beneath her cooking pot.
“It was appropriate and solemn,” Alice described. “We honored them in our way and Antoth and Thantis did so in theirs. And we all got to hear Lachlan play the bagpipes, which was actually very impressive.”
“Well I’m glad ya think so, lassie,” MacGregor replied before explaining to Sentaura and little Ursol that he was dressed in the traditional garb of his clan. Given the nature of Scottish genealogy, the use of the word was quite literal.
“There are whole tribes of humans where the men dress in such a way? How curious. Ursol, that is quite enough,” she insisted, rapping him on the head gently with a wooden spoon. The young lad had still not gotten over the idea of men in dresses. “You had your fun, but now you are being rude.”
“Sorry momma,” Ursol dutifully replied. She pointed at Lachlan instead. “Sorry uncle Lachlan.”
“Ah it’s no big deal, ye certainly aren’t the first one ta get a kick out of me kilt. I find it ta be quite comfortable however.”
Alice giggled as she gratefully accepted a warm bowl of home cooking from Sentaura. She could feel the change of the seasons on the horizon. Perhaps autumn was already upon them. The overcast day and even the funeral service itself added to the feeling that a warm and welcoming meal was exactly what she needed. “Sometimes I wonder if we got it all wrong. Maybe men should all be wearing skirts and dresses while us women wear the pants.”
“I can think of a couple reasons we didn’t go that route and neither are appropriate for the wee laddie here,” Lachlan replied before making a lighthearted suggestion. “But maybe you could write a little paper on it.”
“Oh stop it! That’s not all I do,” Alice insisted, taking a bite of her lunch. “Wow Sentaura that’s- mmm, really good!”
“Thank you very much,” the Cauthan took the compliment in stride before partaking in her own bowl, with Ursol blowing his soup noisily at her side. Alice glanced back over at her companion.
“So Lachlan, I’ve been meaning to ask you actually, when did you get into the bagpipes and kilts and all that stuff? I know it’s your ancestry and all, but it’s not like you’re born with a set of pipes in your hands… right?”
“How d’you know about that?” Lachlan demanded dramatically before dropping the act with a grin. “Ah I know it was a solemn day an’ all, but it feels real nice ta get to playin’ again. As fer me, it was me grandmum, Alice. I’m sure she’s up there with the Lord right now talkin’ his ear off about how great Scotland is. Can’t say I blame her, it’s home.”
“I’ve been once or twice, it was beautiful,” Alice agreed. “So your parents didn’t send you to bagpipe lessons?”
“Ah, it’s a bit hard ta explain,” Lachlan said, pausing his meal to scratch at his chin and wipe his moustache clean. “Me grandmum and grandpa didn’t have much, but they made sure me mum did. Was probably inevitable that she found more cause with Europe than back home once she got out in the world, ya know? Led ta some contentious conversations around the dinner table mind you, but I loved goin’ home ta visit me grandparents, seeing the rollin’ hills and all the bloody sheep. She would always call me her little son o’ Scotland!”
The Marine laughed fondly at the memories, with Alice smiling sweetly as she imagined a much younger Lachlan. “I’d say you more than lived up to her expectations, Lachlan.”
“I do wonder how much of it was an expectation, doesn’t matter now though,” he decided. “She was proud ta be a Scot an’ wanted me ta be proud of it too. Don’t see the harm in it.”
“Quite the contrary,” Alice affirmed, feeling a tad self-conscious as she complimented him. “It was really quite beautiful, the music I mean.”
“Thank ya kindly, Alice,” he replied with sincerity. “I like ta think it helped in some small way.”
Sentaura’s ears perked up as she made the logical connection, gesturing to the pipes that had been placed in one corner of her home. “That strange contraption you brought with you is an instrument? You are a musician, Lachlan?”
“Oh I wouldn’t be goin’ that far!” he replied quickly. “But there are a few classics I guess you could say from my home that I know.”
“Play!” Ursol requested eagerly. His mother seemed to agree.
“I believe I should like to hear this as well, if you are amenable?”
“Well, it’s not like I want to hold out on ye or anything, but for the most part bagpipes only have one setting in terms of volume, and that’s loud. Even in here it would probably spook half the village,” he guessed.
“More like the whole village,” Alice agreed. “Why don’t you play at their festival, Lachlan? There is music, right? Like when my brother brought back his idea of a trophy?”
Sentaura seemed to agree with the plan. “What a splendid idea. If this garb of yours is meant to be festive, then perhaps you might give us a reprise? Though I wonder how cold you might be; the harvest festival heralds the conclusion of the season and the oncoming of winter, after all.”
“Ah that’s mighty kind of you ta worry, mum, but I’ll be just fine with the weather. As long as the Admiral is fine with it I don’t see why not. Somethin’ ta look forward to, eh fluffy lad?”
“Aww, don’t wanna wait!” Ursol insisted, causing his mother to wave her finger at him.
“But wait you shall, my dear. Now please, finish your stew before it’s cold. It’s not every day that we are able to have fresh chesko.”
“Yes, momma,” the young lad agreed, making a scene of enjoying his stew.
-----
Elsewhere in the village, Veera and Russell were also hosting an important guest, having plucked Asha from her temple for lunch.
“So what’s the special occasion?” she wondered, seating herself on their bed as eggs and vegetables were boiled to be consumed with dried meat. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, of course, it’s just that Zolta is usually busy in the afternoons.”
“Yeah, we’ll make it up to him,” Russell acknowledged with a thin smile. He signaled to Veera that she should go ahead. He still wasn’t much of a cook, but he was up to the task of boiling lunch.
“We will,” Veera agreed. “But today I just wanted to talk to you a bit since you’re my best female friend and you’re going through this so-”
Asha had just begun putting two and two together when Veera unceremoniously spilled the beans. “Russell put two cubs in me and we wanted you to be one of the first to know. Xan already knows, sorry, but that’s because Thantis was there at the time we found out,” she explained rapidly, barely taking a breath as Asha’s mouth dropped open and her feathers exploded into motion.
“You- You’re pregnant, Veera?” she gasped, unable to stop herself from rubbing her own prominent belly. “That’s amazing! That’s wonderful! And did you say two?!”
“As if I needed another reason to be concerned,” Russell lamented as the two Cauthan embraced one another. “No offense Asha, but if that’s the size of one late term Cauthan pregnancy, I’m not sure if Veera’s going to be able to move with two of them in there.”
“Oh you are just unbelievable!” Veera rounded on her husband, claws out. “You think I enjoy the idea of our cubs fighting one another just to come into this world?!”
Russell stood straight, abandoning cooking for a moment as he held up a finger in hopes of peace. “Alright, that was a bit more than I expected. Sorry, Veera.”
“And I’m sorry for yelling at you, especially in front of guests,” Veera relented.
“It may not be much, but I don’t think you have to worry about that, Russell,” Asha politely reentered the conversation. “I have been talking with Gentia about, you know, how I’ll know when it’s time? She says that once I get big enough it’ll just start happening. Maybe that will be the same for you, Veera? Oh, well I suppose your cubs would be smaller then. I still, wait a moment, how did you even?!”
‘Prayer and a lot of sex, or perhaps the other way around. Hmm, now that definitely has potential, a punchline in need of a joke mind you. Hello again, everyone, and greetings to you Asha. I see Veera has already informed you of the good news?’ Io asked, waving hello from above Winters’ left bracer.
“It sounds like the good news has also been a bit contentious,” Asha related. Io snapped her fingers and turned to Veera.
‘Yes, yes, I did overhear that. Veera, I have great news for you.’
“Ok, what would that be?” she wondered, seating herself next to Asha on the bed. Even Fenrir got in on the action after poking his snout through the door and finding his family present, though he was made to lay behind Veera so as not to disturb Asha. He sniffed at her belly, but nothing further.
‘Well now that we’re all here, I just wanted to assure you that first of all, twins are a very common occurrence among humans, and we are competent in dealing with babies born prematurely. I know we have discussed the finer points of the human pelvis, human infants, and breast milk before so I will table that discussion. Do not despair, Veera. Your cubs will survive if we have anything to say about it, and you will have enough food to feed all three of you. There will be no competitions here. Sir, I’m pleased to inform you that Skadi has another update.’
Russell looked at her, nodding his head as he spoke. “The hunting program? Great, we’ll go tomorrow morning, Io. Sound good?”
The AI indicated her assent by donning her barbarian furs before slapping on some face paint and diving into a bush, much to Asha’s delight. ‘Perhaps we should invite one of the Betas? Show of good faith?’
“Yeah, or a little hunting accident?” he agreed immediately, laughing loudly before catching Veera’s eye. “That was a joke.”
‘No it wasn’t,’ Io insisted, retrieving a shotgun worthy of Elmer Fudd.
“Yes it was,” he insisted dramatically, a pause between each word.
‘Oh I see, the humans get to joke about offing one another but the moment the AI joins in it’s suddenly verboten!’ Io huffed indignantly. ‘Asha, Veera, let us speak of girl things instead while the garcon prepares us lunch?’
Outnumbered three to one, with two of the women in question being pregnant, Russell could do naught but protest.
-----
Previous | First | Next | Patreon
-----
Own The HEL Jumper: Survive in the format of your choice: Hardcover, Softcover, and epub from Lulu | Amazon Kindle

Ramtidings, dear friends! Where last we parted ways, I had finished working for a friend in Southern California. Before I left to reunite with my hobo crush, my friend had seen me off with some gifts, most notably, a set of RPG dice. After making a wager against a neckbeard on a Greyhound bus that ended poorly for him, I enjoyed the rest of the ride in the lap of luxury. At long last, I had been reunited with my sweetheart, Janet, for a time. After I left, she decided to chase me down. Reunited for a third time, we hit the road together, now with a third, mutual friend in tow by the name of Queenie, a skirt-wearing snaggletoothed hobo with a very haggard voice. I had promised to teach Queenie the joys of tabletop, and even Janet began to express interest in this nerdy passtime as we loitered on freeway onramps, behind gas stations, and under overpasses. Without further introduction, then, we shall dive headlong into this TAAAAAALE FROM THE TABLETOP, lovingly subtitled Are We The Neckbeards?
The magnificent ReddX has narrated our story thus far, and I highly encourage you to go give that boy a like, a sub, and a share. You can find our story at the following link...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-AiJwQA8Dsw
If you're new here, stories about neckbeards are gross. We're probably going to talk about uncomfortable things. You have been warned.
Night had fallen over a truckstop in rural North Dakota. Queenie, Janet, and I had caught a ride in the bed of a pickup truck, and now with the sun down, all bets of traveling further were off. We went and hung around the side of the building and took a seat, becoming a giant pile of bums, backpacks, instruments, and dogs. We spent what pocket change we had on gas station hot dogs and a couple cans of steel reserve, and got comfy for the evening, when Queenie blurted out the words that began it all...
Queenie: I'm bored.
Ah, the doldrums, an inveitable quandary that is bound to strike someone on the road. You can only talk so much about trains, trash, and trouble before you're just beating the same old dead horse. I sympathized with Queenie. I was kind of bored myself. Then I remembered what I had in my backpack. As I dug through my belongings, I cleared my throat and I struck up my best narrative voice. It had certainly been awhile, but I knew I still had it.
GM: Hey, Queenie.
Queenie: Yo.
GM: You wake up naked in a field with a rock. The sun is high in the sky above you, warming your body on this summer day. The grass stands up to your waist, and you hear all around you the quiet, soothing sounds of nature - the wind rustling the grass, birds chirping, the buzzing of insects. To your west you see a sprawling forest, and behind you stands a tall range of rocky mountains. A road, its pavement long since broken and cracked, runs from north to south, and your vision of it is lost behind the treeline. What do you do?
Queenie: What the fuck are you on about dude?
GM: Just humor me, man. What do you do?
I repeated the scenario while queenie contemplated his options once more. He didn't realize I had suckered him into his first tabletop experience, minus the books or table of course. I did, however, recover my dice from the depths of my backpack, and dumped them out on to the concrete in front of me. Queenie responded to my interrogations with a question of his own before he proceeded on his course of action.
Queenie: What kind of rock do I have?
GM: Well, what kind of rock do you want?
He thought about this long and hard.
Queenie: ...I want a big rock of crack!
He enthusiastically shouted this, and a worker taking out the trash gave us a worried look. He probably thought we were dealing drugs behind the gas station. Jesus Christ, Queenie... alright, your wish is my command. Crack you shall have! I told him that he held a giant powdery rock of crack cocaine in his hand, easily the size of his fist.
Queenie: I boof it.
Boofing is when you stick stuff, specifically drugs, in your butt. I've heard it rumored to be the province of alcoholics that get so sick in the morning that they can't physically stomach booze. I do not know the veracity of this. Now, boofing might mostly be a meme and a funny word, or so I thought, until I saw 14, FOURTEEN, people in a row drink beer with their asses one New Year's eve in the desert with my own eyes, but that is a story for another day that I lovingly call Fetch The Apparatus! Back to the act of boofing itself, you can boof powder drugs, alcohol, and LSD, and allegedly, they get you way higher when you do them this way. Some things, however, like some mushrooms or a nug of weed, probably aren't going to do anything. Also, it was common knowledge that, if you boof it, it's free. However, due to recent economic hardships and an unexpected increase in the bum supply, boofing now only nets you a 50% discount. Life's hard like that.
Queenie was adamant about sticking crack cocaine in his ass.
GM: The whole thing?
Queenie: Duh.
I shook my head, took a sip of my beer, and continued the scene. It was his first tabletop afterall, it was funny as hell to my drunk self, and we're all weirdos out here in our own right. At least he's not trying to make me narrate a sex scene with him. Queenie turned over the massive, fist sized crack rock in his hand, before reaching around to his butt, and began to work it in. I held out the dice to give to him. At first he was confused, and then I told him to roll it and tell me the result. Ahhhhh, he's learning! The dice clattered upon the concrete and we leaned in to see what number came up, and he told me with an inquisitve tone, that he rolled high. Something like an 18. He asked me what it meant. I replied that Queenie's asshole was as wide as the open field in which he stood, and it greedily devoured the fist sized crack rock that he had inserted with minimal pain or discomfort.
With a giant rock of crack cocaine dissolving in his pooper, Queenie decided then that it would be a good time to take a nap in the field until there was enough in his blood system for him to enjoy the effects. He laid down in the grass and closed his eyes. I had him roll again, and he rolled very low this time. He didn't even get to fall asleep before he found himself strung out on crack cocaine, started looking for shiny objects in the dirt, and then suffered fatal cardiac arrest. As he lay on the grass, clutching his chest, wondering why this had to happen to him, the world faded to black and he died. Another valuable lesson had been learned. High roll good, low roll bad.
Queenie: That's it? I just die?
GM: You die. The world fades to black as you take your last breaths. You wake up naked in a field with a rock, with a gasp, as if you've just come up from deep underwater. You feel as if you've just come out of a bad dream from having a crack overdose. You turn over the crack rock in your hand before struggling to your feet and surveying your surroundings once more. They seem very familiar to you.
I described the same scenery as earlier that lay before him.
For those of you that haven't figured out just what we were playing, I invite you to explore the videogame known as Rust, back when it was in testing. The premise of the game is that you, well, wake up naked in a field with a rock, and then have to go about the tasks of surviving, building shelter, feeding yourself, and eventually, protecting yourself from others. It was a grind, and all your progress could be snatched from your claws after one bad firefight or simply being asleep at the wrong time. It was a good time however, and without any rulebooks and just my imgination, it seemed simple and intuitive enough to condense into an impromptu tabletop game - it was a modern day feel that was very, very barebones. Oh... and everything's made out of chicken breast. That pig? You betcha. A deer? Sure! A bear? More chicken breast.
Queenie was absolutely fascinated by this revelation that he could not actually die. After boofing his crack rock and dying several more times, he decided that the novelty and humor of this action had worn off, and instead, decided to do something else. He wandered off into the woods. Janet was enraptured as well... this was something new to both of them. Gamified communal story telling with dice? Do people really? They do.
It was getting late, I was getting drunk, and I was tired of narrating all the different ways in which a man could die from stimulant induced heart attacks. I packed up my dice, stood up, slung my backpack upon my shoulders, and wandered out to an empty field. The others joined me, and we struck camp for the night.
The next day, I woke up naked in a field next to Janet. I got dressed, packed my things, and stood up. We went to the truck stop again, and looked for a ride out. To kill the dull hours, I kept the game going. However, Janet was interested if maybe we could do something different than rocks and naked people in fields. I obliged her, and decided to go for a fantasy bent that I figured would be more appealing to her sensibilities, leaving the initial introductory setting in the dust. We began an impromptu fantasy roleplay with m'lord and m'lady, Queenie and Janet. You can imagine, I'm sure, that people must have thought we had lost our minds as I talked about how they had found themselves now inside, guess what, a tavern and the town gaurd told stories of roving orc warbands attacking the outlying countryside, and my companions played right along, going so far as to even talk in exaggerated character voices as we sat under the awning of a Pilot travel stop.
Tabletop is not a spectator sport. Still doing it.
Queenie was gung ho to slay some orcs. Janet, however, wanted to procure some new, gleaming steel before her journey. She sought out the local blacksmith, much to Queenie's dismay, as he insisted that they could just loot bodies for new goodies. That wasn't good enough - she wanted something special, and so she followed the sound of a banging hammer through the town market until she found the blacksmith, a massive giant of a man, beating away on a hot piece of iron atop an anvil. As she approached, he addressed her with a grunt.
Janet: Hi there, I'd like to purchase some weapons.
Blacksmith: K.
He dismissively waved his hand to the back of the shop where racks of glistening steel glimmered by the firelight of the forge, and then returned to mercilessly beating upon the hot iron on the anvil. Janet looked over the wares, somewhat disinterested, and then spoke up again.
Janet: I mean, that's really nice and all, but doesn't a big boy like you have anything more appropriate for a dainty girl like me? Teehee.
I'm denser than a 10 IQ blacksmith savant sometimes.
Blacksmith: Dagger. 10 gold.
Janet: Oh, I see... it just slides in the sheathe like that... can you, uh, show me how to polish this thing?
Damnit, Janet.
Queenie was picking up what she was putting down, and without missing a beat, he told us to go get a fucking bush. He sounded a little spiteful when he said it. He was probably still hurting from his breakup with Sarah, and I wasn't trying to rub his nose in the current euphoric nature of my existence, so I motioned to Janet to follow me and give him some space. I felt bad about it for a bit, but Janet wasn't about to let it dampen her mood. We went off somewhere alone and left him to his thoughts, hopped on the good foot and did the nasty, and laid there for an hour or two, letting the time pass. Eventually, we got dressed, packed up, and returned to the travel plaza. Queenie still sat there by the awning. I asked him how he was holding up.
Queenie: I dunno, man... I just miss Sarah a lot. And I know I've been running with you guys for a few days now, but I don't think I can keep hanging around like a third wheel, especially since you guys are all fucking cute with each other and all that shit. I think I'm gonna turn around, and see if she won't take me back.
No hard feelings here, my brother. Go get your woman. We divided up the bank we had and gave him his share, and I bought him a beer for the road from my own portion. (Somebody usually plays bank and manages all the funds for the group. It's a common courtesy that if friends are to part ways, the bank is divided. This is not always observed, depending upon 1 - who is banking, and 2 - how they feel about the other person. I however, thought, and still think highly of Queenie.) He stood up, grabbed his things, and walked away from the truck stop to the onramp going back east. Janet and I would continue along on our own due west.
The day was getting late, so we decided to hit it again in the morning, and retired to the bush. When the sun rose the next day, we wasted no time, getting to the highway ramp, and caught a lift all the way through from someone going on a long haul to Montana. Somewhere in Billings, we posted up for a bit while we calculated our next move. We were just flying blind at this point, for no reason due west. I figured I would reach out to my boy back in California and see if, well, maybe he had some more work for me. I knew it was way early, and there probably wasn't much going on, but he had a good amount of property, trusted my judgement, and if he had something to do, we could make money. Regrettably, there was nothing going on out there, so we just kind of shrugged our shoulders and sat in place. WIthout Queenie, I didn't really bust out the dice, either, because, well, trying to play an RPG with 2 people just isn't that fun. Janet didn't seem to mind too much. I think she was just using it as leverage to ERP. which, coming from her, didn't bother me at all and I was totally willing to oblige, but, well, I'm not going to whip out dice for that. Instead we spent our time hustling bucks on the street. She played a fiddle, I had a guitar, and we could turn a healthy few bucks between us because we were both competent. Seemingly stuck, with the wind taken out of our sails, we sat tight and made money.
I've never liked reversing my direction. I refuse to do it. I don't know why. Maybe it's a superstition, but after I've started going one way, I won't just turn around. If I'm going East, I'm not going to turn around and start going West. I may turn North or South, but I won't just say, you know what, let's do a 180. It was almost 5 days of living in Billings before the winds of travel decided to blow at our back again. Sick of the town, we said fuck this, climbed aboard the back of a freighter, and got pulled off by a cop maybe 20 miles later at some little town in the middle of nowhere. At first we cursed our luck, but it seemed it was a blessing in disguise. We trudged to the freeway and sat down, and within minutes, a bright yellow cargo van pulled over. Behind it came a battered and busted RV. Could it be?
Hippies. A whole fucking caravan of hippies heading the direction we were trying to go.
I'm not very fond of hippies at all. Rainbow family, grateful dead family, non-affiliated... Doesn't matter. I hate patchouli and if somebody unironically calls me brother bear I get a tension headache and hearing the Grateful Dead gives me an aneurysm. Drum circles always play the same shitty song, crystals won't heal you, and windchimes cause cancer. Conflict and struggle is the truth of the world and peace is a pipe dream. Natural selection, baby. Nevermind that I've had things stolen from me by hippies. Nevermind that somebody who tells you that they love you like you're their family within moments of meeting you is probably trying to extort you for something. Nevermind that every crusty worth his weight in ramen packets knows that a traveling caravan of hippies makes the locals overwhelmingly hostile to the next vagabond that comes through. I could go on. I generally despise hippies.
Are some hippies alright? Some, yes. Was I willing to chance it with these people? We were in smalltown bumfuck Montana and the sheriff already hated our faces just for existing there. I swallowed my pride, and scanned the crowd for familiar faces, of which I saw none. Still, they were willing to give us a ride. They were headed all the way to Oregon. Apparently, there was a gathering going on.
What's a gathering? Exactly what it sounds like. It's a gathering of hippies. I had found myself at one a few years before this. It was known as Black Sheep. It was basically hobo christmas in the middle of the desert for everyone who had nowhere to go, and it was a very small, intimate experience. It was kind of cool because it was tiny in its scope, and I met some genuinely cool people there. Black Sheep is not "officially recognized" by the greater hippie community that does these gatherings, however, for who knows what reason. Maybe it's because people drink there and nobody gives them grief for it, while at any other gathering, you can smoke all the pot and eat fucktons of acid, but god forbid you open a beer. They get pissy about alcohol. It's weird, I know.
Well, like I said, these hippies were on their way to a gathering known as Nationals. This is the big one. This is ground zero for hippies. You can't throw a stone in the woods without hitting some drug addled free spirit shaman with hella heady tradeables who recognizes your spirit and is loving you, sister squirrel. They asked us if maybe we wanted to come with them.
We definitely wanted the ride. The sheriff made it entirely apparent we'd be going to jail if he caught us around the next day, and Janet had a dog with her. We needed to leave. We took that ride, and got a spot in the RV with the rest of the crew. These hippies, thankfully, were not the most insufferable ones that I have met. They were comparatively normal, to our good fortune, and we actually got along rather swimmingly with them. Then they asked the same question an hour or two in to the ride: do you guys want to come to Nationals?
Janet and I looked at each other, and contemplated what the Hell we ought to do. We had nothing going on anywhere else in the world, these people weren't the most awful people in the world - we would probably camp with them, and who doesn't like a week or two in the national forest? Why the fuck not? It's not like either of us would come to regret this decision, right? Let's fucking go to nationals I guess.
We enjoyed the ride, helping them to get gas and food and all that good stuff, and as the ride dragged on, I once again, busted out the RPG dice. I turned to the nearest hippie, and with a smile, told him, you wake up naked in a field with a rock. What do you do?
I would like to thank my wonderful patrons for their support as I not only compile these tales for you, but write my RPG, Blood & Thunder. Special thanks to TatoFerret and Sillibits, and all due respect to the man himself, ReddX, for reading these stories. Thank you for helping me to live the dream.
patreon.com/BlackFlagPrintingPress

Hi everyone! I don't know how I haven't come across this sub sooner. I've been reading it for a few days now, and so many of these tales reminded me of my own encounter with a neckbeard, (probably more incel) so here goes. It's gunna be a long one.
The year is late 2018, and I have freshly turned 25, gotten out of a long term relationship. It wasn't healthy for either of us, and I was looking forward to start my new life as a single woman in the PNW.
I spent a lot more time on reddit at that point. Nothing dirty, but casual chat with a lot of people as well as roleplay. I used to roleplay A LOT and now with my new freedom, I was ready to pick that up again. I mostly stuck with anime, but at that point I ventured in to Marvel RP. I don't want to brag, but I am a very good roleplay partner, and as my fellow RPer's know, it can be hard to find a partner that matches your ability. After a few weeks of searching, I get a message on Kik ( primitive, I know) from who we will call Christian.
Christian and I plan out or roleplay stories, our characters, ect and get things" going. Now when I'm RPing, I really like to get to know my partner. Every long term RP partner I've had we've become friends, and some I still talk to years later on a regular basis long after the roleplay has ended.
I get to know Christian a bit, and looking back I looked over so many disturbing red flags. The moment Christian and I started speaking, he made it known that he was a brain cancer survivor. I won't EVER berate a person for speaking about their illness, but Christian made it a VERY prominent part of his conversations. At the time I just thought it was okay, he's going through something, and it's not like it's a topic most people can relate to, so I listened and helped him as much as I could. Christian lived with his parents after losing his job when the company he worked for shut down, and due to him having surgery recently he couldn't go back to work right away, which made sense. Christian was a programmer and managed to start his own small business. He didn't make enough to live on his own yet, but enough to get by. You gotta do what you gotta do, and I was happy he had some sense of self starter-ship.
I let Christian know that I was recently out of a long term relationship, working full time, university full time, had friends and family nearby and that I was a pretty active person, always on the go. We bonded over MTG, Marvel, creature lore, art, ya know, nerd shit.
Over the course of a few weeks Christian started talking more....depressed? than usual. Just down on himself, his illness (which he seemed to be making a full recovery from) and his looks, and how no woman would love him. Long story short, his wife cheated on him and left him some time ago. I fell for that trap, telling him he couldn't look too bad, and being someone who used to be very down about herself on their looks, I related. Christian sent me a picture of himself. He was pale, thin, scruffy red beard. He didn't have the weight and fedroa of a regular neckbeard, but he was definitely geeky looking. Honestly, not attractive, but whatever. I told him he wasn't bad looking, and he was still down on himself, and he asked me for a picture, so I sent one. Now that I'm older and have some maturity, I can say I am very pretty and am WAY out of Christian's league. But after that pic was sent, the downfall started. I need to mention that Christian was 34 or 35 at the time, I can't remember, so roughly 10-11 years older than me. Legal, but too old for me to consider dating. But from then on, Christian proceeded to slowly and calculatingly guilt me into dating him. Some of the comments he made went like this:
"You're beautiful, I bet so many guys your age are interested in you...but that doesn't include me"
"If I were younger I'd treat you like a guy should, but again that's not a possibility"
"In another lifetime we could have been together, but sadly this is my reality"
"I'm a good man, I wish you'd give me a chance, but I won't pressure you."
Now, I don't know 100% why I did it. I know partially it's because I had mostly negative male figures in my life. My dad was the greatest man of all time, but died when I was six. My mom is also a good woman, but after my dad passed, she fell hard and dated very abusive men. That on top of dealing with frequent verbal and sometimes sexual assault from the men in my mom's church, I didn't really know how a good man was actually supposed to be. My ex wasn't a bad man, but he was a man-child and that was ultimately the fall of our relationship.
So against my better judgment, I caved and started dating Christian after a long late night conversation. I was excited in the moment, but my gut was churning for some reason I couldn't identify. I think the only saving grace to this "relationship" was that Christian lived in another state, so it was an online one.
Things went well the first week or so. We talked most nights on video chat and started getting to know each other better. Then at some point I mentioned I needed to get my hair recolored. At the time, my hair was white. Not grey but white as paper, and the upkeep was pretty frequent. I wanted to change a bit and go for a more steel grey, so I was going through colors online with Christian. Out of the blue he just straight up told me:
"The white isn't flattering against your skin color, you're too dark to pull it off. You need something more muted and darker." I thought he would end there but the onslaught of demeaning remarks about my skin color and how I was "too dark for x hair color continued" Now I'm black. I'm on the darker side, but I consider myself fairly "medium" on the scale. I firmly believe anyone can do whatever they want with their hair. Whether you're as pale as ever or as dark as they get, there's a hair color in every shade for everyone, and more importantly do what makes you happy. I'm somewhat racially ambiguous sometimes being mistaken for Indian or darker toned Asian, but I have had my fair share of racist comments ranging from black, Indian, etc. and typically they don't bother me AT all. But what Christian said really struck me. It wasn't just a racist comment, it was a full on pummeling about me being too dark for thing. I NEVER cry, especially in front of a man, but I was now full on sobbing on this skype call. Just WHAT the fuck was this man thinking?! Christian looked shocked, and asked me what was wrong? I asked him why on earth would he say such horrible things to me, and he came back with what would be his trademark response to when he said cut throat things:
"I didn't mean it that way! You just misunderstood me." And somehow, Christian became the victim. And for some reason, somehow, I left it as a "misunderstanding" He then showed me hair colors and styles he deemed appropriate for my skin tone. They were all various shades of red, from unnatural to natural. Thankfully I chose not to do red (had a red phase, done with that by then) and I later learned he had a FETISH for redheads.
Eventually Christian comes to visit me for the first time, and it lasted about a week. I have to say it was fairly uneventful, and was actually okay. We went to a couple of events and had a nice dinner at a restaurant. It was all fun and games until he had to leave for home. At the time I lived about two hours from the airport, and to get him there we agreed on a set time to leave, as you do. I get up my said time, do a few things around the house and get ready. Christian is not to be seen, he's still asleep. I go to get him, and he snaps at me. Hard. I don't remember the exact exchange but I do recall him calling me a "nagging bitch" and him saying "he knows what he's doing" and lies back down. I didn't have any other plans that day, it's finals, so fine by me, miss your fucking flight. I go to my computer to do some class work, and roughly an hour and a half later Christian is getting around and packing up his things. I know that plane is going to be long gone well before we get to the airport, but I go anyways, maybe he can book another flight for later. The drive wasn't too bad and we get there well after the plane is gone, but Christian does his best. I drive off to go get lunch in the city, maybe hit up the comic book shop I like and then get home for more classwork. I find the (one free) parking garage at the airport to get my bearings and look up a few places to go, make a phone call and check some notes on my school app, when my phone rings. It's Christian and I think we can all predict how the call went.
"Can you come get me? I missed my flight" The worst part was how upset and SHOCKED he was. If I couldn't hold my tongue, I would have laughed out loud. He said they could put him on another flight in about 5 hours. Okay no biggie, I've spent overnight in airports before. But he didn't want to wait, he wanted me to come get him. Now I was exhausted, starving, and just ready to go on about my day. I had an assignment I really needed to finish and wanted to go home and get on that. I let him know I had work to do and his response was.
"Well shouldn't you have brought your laptop? This one is kind of on you." WHAT THE FUCK. How is this ON me?!?! I was still at the airport but why couldn't this grown ass man just sit and wait on his next flight? For some reason, I agreed and we went to go get lunch together and just talked and walked around some areas of the city. I cannot describe how painful it was, I just wanted him out of my (still white) hair, even if I couldn't admit it to myself at the time. This time he was perfectly pleasant at least, and then he dropped the dumbest comment.
"I guess next time we should just have you do the planning for the airport huh? I was a little off on my time" Guys I could have smacked this man. I just blinked at him, not believing the dribble that he just spat out. ARE YOU KIDDING ME GUY? First I'm bad at scheduling even though we would have been on POINT if we left at the time I originally said. But now it's not my fault and he just made a little blip in scheduling.
I take him back to the airport (on time) and thankfully off he goes.
I think that's enough for this installment. I have at least one more (possibly two) I can go through. He doesn't seem very neckbeardy/incel at the moment, but trust me we will get to that...as well as to why we are calling him Christian Grey.
TL;DR: I start an online relationship with a neckbeard who has no concept of time and says my skin is too dark.
Edit: Typos