I wasn't quite sure of what primarily to do today. Nothing's ever planned. And it ain't by any purpose behind it. I'm just somewhat of a sloth. So many chests, or unsorted chests rather. I squander time every once I need something. Opening tens of chests in search of a bucket is a distinguished venture. I could sort them, and that would probably be worth a lot of saved time and mess. For some very divine reason, I choose not to. And that reason in itself is a void. Being lazy actually accounts to me doing the quite opposite of lazy. I could sort the chests once, and be liberated of my searches. But instead I have to search numerous and numerous wooden boxes, with many a times also ending the hunt futile. Where's my silk touch pickaxe? I think it should be in the chest neighbor to the enchanting table. Yes, I find it a most accountable sense. It isn't here. Then perhaps in my ender chest? It isn't here either. Wait, you require silk touch to break and obtain ender chests. Then why would it be in there? Wouldn't it be quite like locking the key in the car itself? And the search continues. Minecraft does if often to remind me of my lazy endeavors. I would carry the full bag each day to school. It would be really heavy. Some of my peers found it fantastical that my timid frail body could bear that much of a load, everyday. No, I can't set my bag every day according to the time table. And I also am not a great enjoyer of punishments. I'll carry everything, even if that remarks my responsible shoulders a martyrdom. I have scoliosis now. The exact reason of its cause is unknown. But holy blocks! Alright, this is my world, my new empire. Just wandering around my territory is such a solace. At least there's something important to me. There's my dog, my axolotl, and my many tenants. My villagers are incredible. Anything even feebly radiant seems heavenly to the ignorant. I should have studied Economics in school. They keep robbing me of my fortunes, and I keep stayed ignorant of my ignorance. Anyways, I'm rich. Such insignificant barters don't concern me. I beseech iron. There are five of the villagers, and do summon iron golems when gossiping. That isn't enough. I need to terrify them. As is greatly said, fear is the greatest motivator. I remember how all of my behind attempts have yielded. I've lost four nametags, all for this one motive. Every zombie I trap somehow has severe depression. They just fancy the sun and its wrath. I'm trying to bring them to the right spot, and they by some not known of power find a way to the open. And they burn to death. At least return my name tag. But wait, I'm rich. Quite so rich that even dirt occurs expensive to me. That librarian sells me name tags for twenty emeralds. No wonder those illagers keep raiding. They know these villagers well, and that of their nihilist earnings. I have this one name tag. I must not fail. One zombie and a dream. I affirm the spot I need the zombie to be. But the problem's no different. If I go in, I need to come out. And in doing that, I need to break some blocks. Not surprisingly enough, the zombie mistakes my departure for his escape. No, I am not as fast to place the blocks back before he manages to outdo my ingenious designs. This instance, however, intelligence struck me. It happens seldom. Zombies can't climb ladders, contrarily, I can. I'll lead him to a hole, and ladder out of it. That is something big brain. I wonder why humans at school didn't recognize my talents. I wonder why. It's night time; I lure a zombie there, and it works. I had never been of grace to such success before. I give him his rightful name, also that was given to his flammable predecessors; Perfidious. Do not betray me, Perfidious. Be wary to stay remote of your name. Morning time, and yes, how can I be of grace to such success? Humans at school were right, I cannot. No, the zombie is fine, he's doing quite splendidly. It's them perfidious villagers. They aren't panicking, the zombie has not an effect on them. I've spolit them defending them for so long. I think they've bid fear adieu. Alright, okay, okay. Why did I think humans in Minecraft would be any different from humans at school? And, I'm wandering again. I not yet have the nerve to fight the wither again. He's there reigning in the west where I had summoned him. My heart trembles only with some steps in that direction. I remember my defeat and my many deaths at his skulls. I need potions. Potions! It's a painful tale. Valiance laughs at my fight, and martyrdom mocks my demise. It were the dark times. I had returned from the nether, this once, alive. I was happy. I had obtained all the nether wart, every single one of them. That one lone nether fortress I had found upon my timid luck was finally fully looted. There's a lava farm I built. It serves as great fuel. I didn't have much dripstone, so there's only eight cauldrons collecting lava. Now, once a cauldron is full, it needs to be emptied to accommodate for more lava. So I had made a pit to store all of it. I would take the lava from the cauldron, and pour it there. Yes, I fell into this same lava pit, with all of the nether wart. I am beyond help. I should have put something of the kind of fences or blocks at least. But no, this is destiny, and mine is quite doomed. Lay emphasis on the lone nether fortress, and all the nether wart. So basically, I am left quite deprived of nether wart. Which means I can't brew potions. It's been an onerous decision to completely ignore the potion part of the game. I need them. And today's the day. I require finding a new nether fortress. The nether is hostile in its every caress. Golden helmet, diamond armor and tools. And all of it enchanted. Tons of food, and right with me, two totems of undying. There's no stopping the triumph of my endeavor. Omens? No, fearful glimpses should be fearing me instead. That dream, of me watching my empire burn helpless. I decide to overlook it. No foreshadowing intended. The hoglins, they run from warped fungi, and I have them in plenty. It needs to planted, however. They have poor eyesight perhaps. They can't quite see it in my hand, and so I need to plant it to ward them off. No trouble thus far. The fungi are working optimally. I've taken a different, a new way, for I need to find a new nether fortress. I have all these blocks abundant, and I keep placing them on my trail. I won't get lost such way. A fortress! A fortress! It's the same one. Different ways lead to the same destiny, and mine is doomed. I don't know how I'm here when I was walking a different path. I don't know. Anyways, I'm taking the free bone blocks. I've been taking all the glowy blocks on my way too. The glowy blocks in the trees. I forgot what they're called. Hostilities surround me, there's a ghast. I wield an infinity bow. No ghast escapes my sight undead. I'm mighty. I kill the ghast, and also any skeletons that had dare aim me an arrow. The hunt continues. I bridge my way over depressions and lava. There's a piglin here. He's companion to me, I wear a golden helmet, he won't hurt me. Then what's the damage? Something's attacking me! It's a hoglin, no, a whole herd of hoglins. Where's my warped fungus? It's here in my hand. I just need of its placing, and they'll leave me serenity. I can't place it. I keep clicking, but I can't place it; my mouse is crying. Apparently, you can't place it on bare netherrack. All flooring around me is bare netherrack. I've lost enough hearts in getting to this discovery. No, I am not using a shield. There's a totem of undying in my off hand. You can only have one. So, as all available options tribute me their unavailability. I have only one option, run. I'm running, and, the totem's gone, I died once. They're chasing, and I'm running. No, I'm not as fast to wield a shield or the other totem in my off hand whilst running. I lack the cool to think. I'm running. And verily safe, I reach a forest, and plant the fungus. I survived, barely. I equip my valiant person the second and also the last totem. I travel across the lands, searching far and wide. Bridging over great lava lakes, navigating dense forests, the wastelands, in my most noble hunt. The nether looks so beautiful. Just having my gaze rest amidst its vastness and color; I see a writer scribbling an inkless pen. There's only death awaiting me in that beauty, no one wishes staying long here, no one wishes to read the writer's fury. It had been very of a time my venture. I had been going for so long, without hint of the fortress. I had been collecting the bone blocks, and the glowy blocks. They are the only yields of my hardships yet. I shouldn't be reckless. There's so plenty to fear. But I'm parkouring. And I fall. Not to worry, I was parkouring on top of the trees, the fall wasn't fatal. And that's the only good part. I fell on an enderman. He's angry. I think I made eye contact, perhaps even hit him once. It was accidental, totally. He doesn't listen. My genius goes into hiding. Usually, I would fight endermen with a shield. But no shield this time around, only totem. Even with all the enchanted armor and axe, I fail to kill him before he kills me once. The totem's gone. I get afraid, and my hands start trembling; happens all the time. I can barely grip the mouse. My anxiety needs a pill overdose. I do manage to kill him, but I'm quite devasted, emotionally. I would so wish I had brought obsidian with me. I just wanted to portal out. The nether fortress can find another finder. But I don't have the obsidian. Going back is a long way. I decide to keep going. What's that? A fortress? The sight is enthralling; did I finally win? I near the structure running exhilarated. Those don't look like nether bricks. No, they aren't nether bricks. And that is no fortress. It's a bastion. I know of the piglin brutes. It is said no amounts of gold can buy their fidelity. They are most hostile. They will attack you nevertheless. And I am ready to attack them first. I'm going to plunder this bastion. Any being who opposes will face death. The plunder may result a genocide, I don't much care. I am reckless, careless, but for this one instance, I decide to safeguard my obtained treasures. They're just bone blocks and glowy blocks, but they're of my procuring. I keep them in my ender chest, and begin with the invasion. There's a piglin brute, and there a piglins too. I can use my shield now, I ran out of totems. The brutes have axes, and yes, my shield can be disabled now. O notch, there's too many of them. A jester come to rescue! Mercy! Mercy! I'm running, fast and worried with only so little health left. It is MLG time. I decide to jump over to an other side separated by a rift. It is parkour again. This time, it is far worse. I have nothing to MLG with. There's a boat, but I'm not fast enough to use my inventory. There's nothing in my hotbar of help. No totems, nothing. I knew I was dead before I died. A realization, a most oblivious embracing of death. I knew I was going to die. I did not have the time to think about the death. I could only know. My feather falling boots can't be saviours either. The jump is too great. I hit the ground too hard. The only findings of my agony, bone blocks and glowy blocks. I will blow that bastion to smithereens.

Union Plants and Animals--Up to date as of 3/31/2023
(Homeworlds of Origin and such)
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General Creatures (Found on many worlds)
Aeroplankton: Tiny life forms that are small enough to drift through the air on tiny sails and wings, they are generally autotrophic though some carnivorous and detritivorous species have been observed. They are found across a great multitude of long colonised planets and are believed to be a side effect of interstellar travel as the airborne microbes of a thousand worlds.
Cloud Drifter: A huge winged creature similar in appearance to ancient pterodactyls, they soar the heat currents and eddies in the sky consuming aeroplankton. Their jaws able to expand to expose large feather structures that filter the tiny airborne creatures from the sky. While they are native to Malistorn they can be found across multiple worlds, the result of stowaways and invasive colonization. They are relatively intelligent animals.
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Abyss
Dejaarn: A large predatory creature native to the Slaaveth homeworld of Abyss and living in the deepest depths of the world's ocean. They are massive, easily 20-30 meters in length and have an appearance similar to that of a monstrous eel and have corrosive bile that they will spit if threatened. In the water, diluted, this bile causes extreme irritation and sometimes death, in the open air its effects are magnified and it acts as an extreme oxidiser.
Drek: Small creatures that are only one step above shimmer specks, or plankton, on the food chain. They are small creatures similar to zooplankton on Earth but larger. Though they are generally not considered a food source to the slaaveth themselves, a popular saying on the planet would be “That a mouthful of drek.” Native to the Slaaveth homeworld of Abyss.
Grooum: A large squid like creature native to Abyss. Despite their ferocious appearance, they are in fact filter feeders with long gill-like structures that trail at the end of their eight long arms. They have an intelligence about par to that of Earthly Dolphins and are widely known to be playful, curious creatures. They have colorful fins and three equally spaced eyes, black and pupiless.
Shimmer Specks: The colloquial slang for plankton on the slaaveth home planet of Abyss. They are generally similar to many other forms of plankton, small creatures that harness the power of sunlight to produce their own food and are in turn consumed by higher orders of life.
Skimmer Beasts: Similar in function to Earthly whales in function if not form, they are large and generally placid creatures that spend their days skimming the surface of the ocean for plankton and small creatures similar to krill called Drek in the oceans of Abyss.
Slurrge: Similar in function to a cleaner wrasse these little creatures are native to Abyss and were largely domesticated like human dogs. They are generally used to help clean detritus from underwater living spaces and can survive out of water for limited periods of time as they do possess protolungs. They are commonly treated as valued pets and treated quite well, though to be called a slurrge implies that the one in question is a dirty sludge slurper.
Vleshtrine Hunter: A large deep sea predator native to the Slaaveth homeworld of Abyss. It is large and slightly shark-like in appearance and behavior. While they are universally feared on Abyss, they are uncommon.
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Bright Moon
Jinkk: A very small mammal native to Bright Moon, while looking like a tiny bear-esk creature, it is more similar in behavior and temperament to a mouse.
Vreeinth: A small predator native to Bright Moon that is very similar to a snake. It has no legs and slithers along the ground using its powerful sense of smell to locate prey.
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Dreyvan II
Aeroplankton: Tiny life forms that are small enough to drift through the air on tiny sails and wings, they are generally autotrophic though some carnivorous and detritivorous species have been observed. They are found across a great multitude of long colonised planets and are believed to be a side effect of interstellar travel as the airborne microbes of a thousand worlds.
Dreyvan Vileglider: A type of flying arthropod native to the world of Dreyvan II. They are large and possess wings similar to that of a huge moth except they have the body structure more akin to a scorpion complete with a stinger tail.
Grinskal: A type of predatory lizard that looks like a cross between a crocodile and a wolf, though covered in drab grayish feathers. Native to Dreyvan II.
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Drivil
Jrarg: A near relative of the Xeiro’filk, long believed by the ancient Xeiro’filk to be the spirits of long dead ancestors, they are a protected species across most of the planet. Though there are a few more impoverished nations that used them as an illegal food source from time to time. The practice was akin to cannibalism in most parts of the world and the taboo of it rendered most who participated in the practice shunned and ostracized.
Krekats: Large furred animals similar in function to deer. They are different in the fact they have six legs and hard skull caps instead of horns. Native to the Xeiro’filk homeworld of Drivil.
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Earth
Cat: That old rival of humanity, Cats have made their mark on the stars and have many new and old breeds that may be known across the width of the Union. While many are pets and small, there do exist larger varieties of genetically manipulated cat strains that can be used for more defensive or offensive ends.
Cicadas: An easy to grow and popular food staple for the Swanith, this Earthly insect has been genetically engineered for maximum nutrition and flavor and is commonly served as rations or dipped in sudo chocolate.
Cow: While not too dissimilar from the cow that was widely available on Earth for thousands of years, this variety is a bit hardier and capable of eating a wide variety of vegetation and in some cases even meat proteins. There are carnivorous species of cows that exist on certain worlds.
Dog: Mankind's love for taming ferocious predators began with this creature. Long before Humanity had even civilized, before they had even discovered metal, they captured their ancient predators and bent them to their will. Humanity's love for taming the wild and free is greatly known among the other species of the galaxy. They often colonise planets seething with horrific predators and covered in noxious plants, before taming the predators and making the plants edible. There are dogs for almost every conceivable need, from hunting and tracking to construction and even medical work.
Rat: A small scavenger rodent species native to Earth, they are incredibly prolific and follow everywhere Humans go. Even the most sterile of science bases will have specially bred rats for both comfort and testing. Humans' bond with this small animal borders on the symbiotic, as Human colonies without these small critters tend to devolve into stinking cesspools as the buildup of hyper colonized bacterial growths take over their landfills and waste disposal grounds.
Roaches: Evolved and still just as survivable as their Earthly namesake. These small insects are found across the width and breadth of the Union in many forms. Some are lanky and others burrow, but they all share a distinctly similar body structure.
Weaver(Spider): The common name for the small eight legged arachnid variant from Earth. Wherever Humans can be found, these small arthropods are generally not far behind. They seem to be capable of surviving in a vast array of climates and even aboard sterile space stations and military complexes.
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Endless Windswept
Ha’vaup: About the size of a small dog, these creatures originally evolved on the world of Endless Windswept and they share the same biological silicate bone structure as the Gre’vahn. This makes them very durable and quite strong for their size, this combined with the fact that they are carnivorous hunters similar to Earthly cats makes them both decent pets as well as good for clearing out pest infestations. This usefulness has seen them spread across the Union and they can be found both domesticated and feral in many core system cities. They move with a distinct bounding gait similar to that of an Earthly kangaroo.
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Fresholm
Groint: A relatively large insect native to Fresholm, they are somewhat intelligent and make decent pets forming attachments to their owners over the years they are owned.
Pinchflies: A small insect native to Fresholm, they are known for their painful pinches and are very territorial.
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Goldbard
Aurgh Birds: Native to the planet of Goldbard, these near avians are warm blooded and don't have true feathers, instead having chitinous structures that are similar in function though more hair-like. They are insectivores and generally liked by farmers as they feed on pests and other nuisance insects that may harm crops. They are so named for the noise they make, which has been described as the sound of a large human male in pain.
Frubbeatles: The adult stage of Liverspotters, native to the agricultural planet of Goldbard. They are large, about six centimeters in length with bright orange shells and eight stubby legs they use to grip onto surfaces. They have bright iridescent wings and are able to fly for short distances during mating season.
Liverspotters: The common name for the larval stage of Frubbeatles, they generally live inside of the fruits of Frubble trees. They are commonly regarded as a nuisance pest and are subjected to numerous pesticides and such. Though this seems to be less effective than it should be, the larvae seem to be able to quickly adapt to combat new types of insecticides.
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Gradient
Julips: A small flying creature from the planet Gradient that seems to have easily adapted to the dark and dank places of urban sprawl as well as hitching rides to many other large scale civilised systems. They are small, about the size of a bat and of a similar function. They seem capable of adapting to many different climates and are capable of eating a wide variety of carbon based insect life. They are generally pale brown or grey in coloration and are similar to ancient winged reptiles from Earth's past.
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Hardnock
Feral Merls: A type of lunged fish-like creature native to the Ocean world of Hardnock in the Morris System, these creatures are about the size of a large dog and omnivore. They are quite similar in behavior to Earthly Hogs.
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Ho’the’rell
Frax'nt: A small fuzzy mammal native to Ho'the'rell. It acts as a type of scavenger, picking apart the detritus that litters the frozen wastes and breaking it down. They are similar in behavior to vultures in the fact that they tend to gorge themselves then go into a stupor for great lengths of time.
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Jureillo
Drawsherk: A large predator native to the swamps of Jureillo, it has an appearance similar to that of a bear mixed with a giant lizard. They are quite ferocious when provoked but tend to stay away from inhabited areas.
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Malistorn
Cloud Drifter: A huge winged creature similar in appearance to ancient pterodactyls, they soar the heat currents and eddies in the sky consuming aeroplankton. Their jaws able to expand to expose large feather structures that filter the tiny airborne creatures from the sky. While they are native to Malistorn they can be found across multiple worlds, the result of stowaways and invasive colonization. They are relatively intelligent animals.
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Neirvauhl
Ranx: A domesticated animal native to Neirvauhl, while not providing milk like human cattle, it is instead used to produce highly nutritious fertilizer that is then used to grow fungus crops. It is one of the few herbivores native to the planet and thrives in harsh environments. It was not uncommon for Nerivith knights to ride them into combat as they are capable of carrying massive amounts of weight, they are closer to horses than cows in structure. Their skin is a deep red in coloration and covered in fine black hairs with a mane of thicker hair around their necks and along the backs of their legs.
Shrij: a fuzzy creature not unlike a large blueish rat with a fuzzy wide tail, they are sometimes kept as pets by Nerivith and are quite intelligent on par with dogs. It's not uncommon for Nerivith to teach them simple tricks and the like.
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New Ramph
Himplit: A cattle animal native to the agricultural world of New Ramph and is commonly used in a similar manner to Earthly pigs. It is a short and squat animal with a long snout that it used to root around in the thick mud of its swampy home planet, it possesses thick scute like armour plates and six legs with webbed feet.
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Nowhere
Drumble: A small, almost rabbit-like creature native to Nowhere. It is a small burrowing mammal that is commonly eaten by the native noppins of the planet. They have sharp hearing and small eyes as they are mostly nocturnal creatures and spend the majority of the hot days burrowing underground like a mole.
Lorgranx: A breed of Ranx that has been specifically adapted to the hot and arid climate of Nowhere to the point that it has become a distinct subspecies. They are generally a bit taller and leaner with a large belly that they use as both fat and water storage, kind of like a reverse Camel.
Noppin: An indigenous lizard from Nowhere about 2.5 meters in length on average and weighing 40 kilograms. They are quite docile towards people in the wild and are considered the Wolves of Nowhere. After many generations of training and breeding, several different breeds have arisen, some more lively and quick, others slow but powerful. They have a generally higher level of intelligence for a cold blooded animal and have been known to form strong bonds of loyalty with their owners. While they do give live birth, their young are able to consume meat almost right away.
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Paradise
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Sabith
Grassstrider: A medium sized insect native to Sabith, it is known for its ability to jump great distances and is generally liked due to its slightly spicy taste and crispy texture. Usually eaten candied.
Millibugs: Sometimes call Mealbugs by spacers they are a type of insect native to Sabith, generally well liked by Swanith, their ease of preservation and high nutrient content make them an ideal ration supply for Swanith travelers and colonists alike. They are similar in appearance to a cricket crossed with a millipede, and are tan in coloration.
Pale Finch: A species of near avians from the planet Sabith, they are tangentially related to the Swanith themselves in that they share a common ancestor but are not intelligent like their sapient cousins. They are small and a bit more birdlike in shape but still possess small graspers on their wingtips like the Swanith.
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Scorch
Finge: A type of egg laying reptile native to the planet Scorch, while the reptile has a hard time surviving outside the desert environment of Scorch itself, their eggs are considered incredibly tasty as they are both savory and fatty. Distinctive for the colorful fringes that they have along their backs.
Truze’felids: A type of small creature native to the planet of Scorch. They are small near mammalian carnivores that lay hard shelled eggs and eat other small critters. They can often be found in large numbers in and around skorp hives as they are partially domesticated similar to Earthly cats.
Znots: Small critters similar in size and function to Earthly rats. They possess protofeathers and have six small scaled legs with wide claws that they use to burrow. They can be found in most places that the Skorp inhabit as they are native to the planet Scorch.
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Unionborne (Created by Union scientists or technology)
Cyberhound: A cybernetically or bionically enhanced dog, sometimes used by military or law enforcement, most often in the employ of bounty hunters and void wardens.
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Voidborne (Space faring creatures)
Celestipods: Small critters capable of withstanding incredible stress and damage. They are commonly found on drifting ice floes and embedded in primordial comets. They are small eight legged creatures that can range in size from microscopic to the size of a small dog. They are almost impossible to kill and can metabolize almost any imaginable kind of organic compounds. They seem to have a taste for void mussels, often being found grazing on fields of the strange shelled creatures.
Fleshtroid: A large mass of flesh inhabiting a hollowed out asteroid, they are uncommon and usually only found in systems with yellow stars and inhabitable planets. They are in effect Mutalid probes that were left in place to report to their dark masters. While they are generally hostile when approached, it is not unheard of them to be quite curious as they are in fact intelligent.
Glimmer Drorn: A type of creature that is mostly gaseous with a very thin membrane that gives them a roughly spherical shape, they float around and absorb sunlight and interstellar gas to survive. Butterfly-like behavior.
Metalgea: A curious type of interstellar plant form, these microscopic plants have a hard ferrosilicate shell and a low internal temperature. They seem to be able to survive in the near vacuum of space on large asteroids and comets. They can be found near the icy poles of moons and dwarf planets. They seem to spread by releasing small spores that can drift inanimate for thousands or potentially even hundreds of thousands of years till they reach conditions suitable for life. This process has been drastically sped up by the invention of FTL. Ships can unknowingly pick up these spores and transfer them tens of thousands of times faster to new territory. Though they are incredibly hardy, they cannot withstand temperatures in excess of negative fifty degrees making contamination of living spaces almost entirely impossible.
Ravenoids: Huge fleshy tentacled monstrosities that seem to inhabit many of the large moons in the vicinity of Abyss, they come in a number of unique varieties but all seem to share a common genetic template. The leading theories are that they are remnants of previous mutalid incursions.
Void Mussels: Wherever metalgea can be found, void mussels are sure to be there too. The two void creatures seeming to share a strange sudo-symbiotic bond. The mussels consume the metalgea and in turn excrete nutrients that are in turn consumed again by the metalgea. The void mussels seem to be capable of extracting minerals from the surrounding environment that the metalgea cannot.
Void Wisps: Ethereal and ghostly in appearance, these creatures are made of energy and tend to congregate near sources of ions. This means that the ion drives of large ships can attract these mysterious creatures into the ship's wake where they frolic and play behind them. It is unknown whether or not they are intelligent as they have never been successfully captured or otherwise closely studied. They were first documented by the famous UNSS Lief Erikson and then later covered in more detail by the legendary naturist Druth Felman himself. They have an almost ray-like appearance.
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Vool
Gweawa: A type of livestock native to the planet Vool. They are large and gray skinned with many characteristics similar to that of amphibians. Though they don't lay eggs and instead give birth to small tadpoles that then metamorph into their final form after a short growing period. They are treated in a manner similar to hogs and eaten in the same way.
Shimmerscales: A type of small fish-like creature native to the homeworld of the razah’vool. They are a favorite food of the razah’vooll and generally eaten raw in a manner similar to sushi on top of slices of Gragno, a vegetable native to the same world.
Webblings: Small amphibious creatures originally native to the planet Vool. They are small and have toad-like dry skin(without the bumps) and have six legs with webbed feet. They have no claws or teeth but are quite fast and hunt insects and other very small critters. They seem to have a fondness for Earthly cockroaches which can be found all across the Union.
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Vreefall
Brawhm: A type of medium sized herbivore that was hunted in the prehistoric days by ancient Vinarfel. Now it has become domesticated and is generally larger and more docile than its ancient counterparts. It has a meat with a texture similar to that of buffalo but a taste closer to that of Earthly salmon.
Pudgilow: A type of cattle animal revered for its fatty meat, it is raised across many worlds of the Union and originates from the Vinarfel homeworld of Vreefall. Humans tend to like it and compare it to a mix between bacon and beef. The animals themselves are large and pudgy, looking not too dissimilar to small hippos with a small layer of armour on their heads and backs as well as venomous bristles on their shoulders. They are opportunistic omnivores that will happily eat any meat they come across.
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Xeccessinesoor

Somewhere near the Forest of Magic a store referred to as “Kourindou” was located. Not much is known about the store save for the few who regularly visit; whether it’s to buy/sell something worthwhile, or to simply bother the store owner, Rinnosuke Morichika.
Rinnosuke was enjoying his day, relaxing with a fresh beverage to his right, a newspaper telling him about the daily events that occurred the other day, and most importantly: nothing else. A day where no Marisa would barge in to steal stuff, no Reimu to come in to ask for tea supplies. There weren’t any maids or swordswomen to bother him, nor any rabbits or living gods to do the same. It was perfect.
“Ahhhh…Such a nice day.” Rinnosuke said, taking a glance out the store window to admire the beauty of the sunlight outside, the sight of the grass and trees that led into the forest, the viewing of the two fairies who had came earlier…wait.
Crashing through his store like a speeding bullet, Sunny and Luna had both flown in, breaking down anything that was in their way before coming right to a halt by the store counter. He watched the statue of a man carrying the globe he found the other day topple over, the globe fell off and rolled over to a nearby table with a flower vase, causing said vase to hit the floor and shatter, leaving only the flowers and water in its trace.
He was shocked, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to lament either since it happened so often he would consider himself naive to believe a moment of peace would ever have been possible.
“Hey! Store Owner!” Sunny slammed her tiny hands on the counter. “We need Star’s stuff back!”
“...What?” Rinnosuke was a little confused by what the fairy was talking about.
“Y’know, all the stuff we sold to you! Her bed, her clothes, that mushroom bonsai tree she loves, we need all of it back!” Sunny counted the items with her hand.
“Our friend is really mad at us because we sold all her belongings.” Luna clarified.
“Ah…Well sorry, I can’t just give everything back.” Rinnosuke said.
“What!? How come!?” Sunny shouted.
“I’m a store owner, I can’t keep giving stuff away. Even if a certain someone keeps taking my stuff regardless.”
“But…But Star’s mad! Like, really really mad! She even kicked us out of our own house!” Sunny said. “I don’t wanna be a homeless fairy like Cirno!”
Elsewhere, a certain idiot sneezed.
“Look. I said I can’t just give it back. But I’ll sell it back to you if you pay me back the money.” Rinnosuke said.
Sunny and Luna quickly turned quiet. Sunny started to whistle, while Luna pressed her index fingers together.
“Um…The problem is we already spent it all on the funeral we had earlier for Star.” Luna said.
“A funeral?” Rinnosuke was now more confused. “What kind of nonsense had these girls been doing?” He thought.
His thought process quickly became interrupted, when out of the blue, a large shark came crashing out of the roof of the store and landed amongst all the trinkets and collectables.
“What the!?” Sunny looked back, seeing the shark flopping up and down in the center of the store, trying to move itself towards her and Luna. Rinnosuke was shocked, but the fairies were more or less curious.
“Woah…Is that a shark?” Luna said.” I heard about them in one of my books, but I never saw one up close.” She walked over to the shark, reaching her hand out.
The shark attempted to bite her hand out with its ferocious set of teeth, had it not been for Rinnosuke who pulled her back before the shark could feast on the fairy. He took her and Sunny out of the store, understanding the dangers of sharks.
—
Elsewhere, Wakasagihime was floating in the middle of Misty Lake, admiring one of the shiny rocks she had found beneath the lake’s floor.
“So pretty~” Wakasagihime said.
She used the sun’s light to reflect off the rock so she could admire it more. But the sun suddenly was obscured by a large figure that blocked its light. She looked up, wondering what it could be.
“Huh? Did it get cloudy all of a sudden?” She asked. And not even a moment after the figure crashed right into the lake, sending the mermaid princess flying up and twirling like a propeller.
“Aaaaaahhhhh!!! Why am I flying!?” She asked.
But now she was no longer flying. She started to fall down and once again she screamed. But then she stopped falling, instead the tornado which had formed right in the center of the lake started to suck her in like a vortex, and now she’s being spun round and round, unable to escape. And she could do nothing but scream.
Yet not even that she was allowed to do. She didn’t even have a moment to react before she saw the swarm of sharks coming right at her, bearing their large open mouths.
“AAAAAAAAAA!!!!”
The famous last words of the Mermaid Princess of Misty Lake, right before the sharks all gathered up and tore her limb from limb, devouring her in a feeding frenzy, leaving nothing but the precious rock she had admired.
…
The Scarlet Devil Mansion was right by Misty Lake when the Sharknado suddenly appeared. The residents quickly turned to panic.
“What the!?” Meiling said, snapping out of her drowsy trance. She stood, facing the humongous combination of tornado and shark, her mind filled with a mix of paralyzed fear and genuine confusion. But her thoughts were interrupted when a shark came flying right at her.
She punched the shark before it could bite at her, sending her flying up into the stratosphere.
“Ha!!! You’re facing the master martial artist Hong Meiling! I won’t let something like a tornado of sharks come and barge into the Scarlet Devil Mansion!” She said it loud and clear.
And then a bunch of more sharks came flying right at Meiling, easily overwhelming her and tearing her to shreds. The Sharknado struck the mansion, quickly tearing it apart and sucking up all its residents. Many of the hobgoblins and fairy maids were sucked into the vortex, along with Patchouli, Koakuma, Remilia and even Flandre.
“AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!” Koakuma screamed.
“Mukyuu!!!!” Patchouli Mykyuu’d.
“W-What is going on!?!?” Remilia shouted. “Where’s Sakuya when you need her!?”
“Wheeeeee!!!” Flandre said, enjoying the thrill.
A few of them had been devoured by the sharks in no time, while others
And they were only but a handful of the many soon-to-be victims of the lethal Sharknado.

TL;DR: Our group ventured into a mysterious tower with a sleeping God to complete a dream quest, where we faced numerous challenges, including toxic liquid, a missing jewel, and menacing security creatures. As the God awakened and unleashed destruction, I used my phasing ability to protect myself and my friends. After an epic battle, I defeated the God and acquired newfound power, which I used to transform the tower into a magnificent castle, create loyal spirit companions, and empower a pendant as a protective talisman.
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Part 1: HEROIC DREAMERS
Under the cloak of night, our intrepid group ventured into the mysterious tower of a slumbering God. Each of us had our personal reasons for joining the quest: some sought redemption, others craved adventure, and a few pursued companionships. As we embarked on our journey, our bonds grew stronger, with trust and friendship blossoming between us.
The interior of the lair, aside from the top, was submerged in toxic liquid. The deity slept at the center of the liquid as miniature stars floated around him, embodying the rich history and mythology of the world we inhabited. At the pinnacle of the tower, we discovered a vast observatory with a domed ceiling adorned with celestial images that hinted at the secrets of the universe. In the center lay an enigmatic, astronomy-themed disc puzzle, encircled by runes glowing with faint luminescence.
"We need to solve this puzzle to complete the dream quest and restore balance to our world," one dreamer whispered while their eyes scanned the elaborate pattern, revealing a hidden pain that had driven them to undertake this perilous journey. "But there's a crucial jewel missing from the center." Despite our cautious efforts, we inadvertently triggered the tower's arcane security system. As menacing, shape-shifting "security creatures" swarmed us, the deadly liquid within the tower began to rise ominously. In a desperate attempt to escape, I relied on my dream ability, "phase," to merge with a friend, and we faced the formidable adversaries together.
As we fought the relentless creatures, our struggles mirrored the emotional battles we faced in our own lives. Our companions showcased their growth, overcoming past traumas and fears while using their unique abilities to aid the group. We were plunged into the toxic sea below. My friend, a skilled water manipulator who sought redemption for past misdeeds, repelled the liquid with powerful surges, while I maintained my phasing ability. The disturbance awakened the God, who, with a thunderous roar, sent the liquid into a tempestuous whirlwind that defied the laws of nature.
As the chaos ensued, we were reminded of the fragility of life and the beauty of friendship. The whirlwind and the destructive forces that unfolded around us symbolized the turmoil that had brought each of us to this moment. We drew strength from one another, our shared determination driving us to face the unimaginable.
The God’s eyes glowed with divine fury at our stubbornness. He drew in the mini-stars, and a blinding light erupted. The incandescent explosion expanded rapidly, its luminous tendrils reaching out in every direction. This was the birth of a supernova!
The celestial phenomenon unleashed a kaleidoscope of colors, as vibrant blues, purples, and greens danced alongside fiery reds and oranges. The explosion seemed to paint the night sky with swirling, iridescent hues that shimmered like cosmic dust. As the shockwaves radiated outward, they distorted the very fabric of space, bending light into mesmerizing patterns that rippled through the void.
Despite the supernova's awe-inspiring beauty, it was a force of unparalleled destruction, capable of obliterating everything in its path. The energy unleashed was millions of times more powerful than a typical star, and the heat generated was unimaginably intense. Even at a distance, the searing radiation could incinerate entire planets in mere moments.
The destruction left nothing standing. The God had claimed victory, and the world began rebuilding itself with the toxic liquid filling up the interior of the tower once more. Suddenly, my friend and I emerged at the surface of the death sea, gasping for breath. Defying all odds, my phasing ability shielded us from the cataclysmic explosion. As the shockwaves passed harmlessly through us, we were left floating in the aftermath of the God's wrath, untouched by the devastation. The remnants of the supernova continued to sparkle in the distance, a breathtaking reminder of the immense power we had just withstood.
-‐--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PART 2: CELESTIAL SHOWDOWN
Most of our group managed to escape the tower, and we reconvened at the observatory, hearts pounding. "I can't believe you’re still lucid!" one dreamer marveled with tears in their eyes. They thought their comrade-in-arms were gone forever, like in many other dreams. I jokingly replied, "It's because I got stuck with this guy," pointing to the friend who had inadvertently tripped the security system. We laughed, and my friend apologized for his clumsiness.
Our persistence infuriated the God who menacingly emerged from below. He was dark and humanoid with a large physique. Enraged, he summoned an army of security creatures to end our defiance once and for all. But our resilience to the God’s wrath had empowered me in an unexpected way. My phasing ability had leveled up, and I could now create a shimmering protective zone for my comrades! We fought back with renewed vigor, our synchronized movements rendering the enemy attacks useless.
Emboldened by the newfound ability, I charged towards the deity, determination burning in my eyes. Our surroundings seemed to fade away, the tension in the air palpable as we prepared to engage in a battle of wills and might. As I closed the distance between us, the God laughed, his voice speaking volumes of how it viewed my challenge. He taunted me, dredging up the darkest moments of my past in an attempt to weaken my resolve.
He maneuvered his way outside where I unleashed an arsenal of attacks: time magic to slow him, wind magic to corner him, and lightning magic to strike. Each spell meticulously chosen to weaken the formidable adversary. The air crackled with energy as our powers collided, casting brilliant flashes of light and dark shadows that flickered across the battlefield.
The God retaliated with wild, ferocious physical attacks, and gravity manipulation. Yet, each strike was rendered futile, as my most powerful ability let it all phase through me, leaving me unscathed. Frustration and fear began to creep into the God's eyes as it realized that it could not harm me. With each unsuccessful attack, its once-mighty aura diminished, and its large size shrank.
We were locked in a fierce struggle, the very air vibrating with the intensity of our magical onslaught. Around us, the tower trembled, and the remnants of the toxic liquid hissed as it evaporated. The confrontation was a breathtaking display of power and skill, as we pushed each other to our limits.
Finally, the God, now reduced to the lesser form of a small lion, succumbed to my relentless assault. I grabbed the weakened beast, lifting it into the air, and with a final roar, I squeezed it, until it burst into a shower of energy that flowed into my body. The once-mighty God had fallen, and the victory was mine.
I was left overflowing with newfound magic, as well as a giant purple rock. It was the jewel needed to complete the dream quest. I hauled it back to the observatory only to find my group had woken, leaving me as the sole survivor. I placed the very jagged rock at the center of the ring puzzle, causing it to suddenly start glowing.
The world around us began to change, reflecting the restoration of balance we had fought so hard to achieve. The toxic liquid began to drain from the tower while it transformed into a radiant, opulent castle before my very eyes. A surge of emotions washed over me. An overwhelming sense of accomplishment and pride swelled within my chest, the weight of the completed dream quest finally sinking in.
The interior resembled a magician's abode, each floor boasting an eccentric design with open centers and intricate wooden accents. Enchanted tapestries adorned the walls, and the air was heavy with the scent of ancient knowledge. A deep sense of wonder filled me. I gazed at the magnificent crystal chandeliers that illuminated the grand hallways, and the lush gardens that bloomed on the balconies.
Each room unveiled another marvel that left me breathless. The castle was a living testament to the incredible journey I had just undertaken, and every corner held a memory of the trials and triumphs that had brought me here. My heart raced with excitement, as the realization that this enchanting place was now mine took hold. It was a reward far greater than I could have ever imagined.
The dream world that my awakened friends and I had conquered now stood as a monument to our achievements, and the strength of the human spirit. I knew that the adventure would be remembered for years to come, its story passed down from friend to friend as an inspiring tale of courage, friendship, and determination.
Outside the castle, the landscape had transformed into a breathtaking utopia, with lush greenery, crystal-clear waters, and a sky painted with vibrant hues that stretched as far as the eye could see. The once-dark world was now full of light and life, its beauty a testament to our victory over the slumbering God.
As I stood on the castle's highest balcony, I looked out upon the dazzling world we had saved. I imagined each of us was changed by the journey, our experiences shaping us into better, stronger individuals. With this newfound strength, I knew that I could face any challenge that life had to offer, both within my dreams and beyond.
-‐--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PART 3: LOYAL SPIRITS
A fierce determination to protect this place and the power I had acquired started taking root. In that moment, I channeled my energy and, with a determined exhalation, I unleashed eleven spirits into the world. As they burst forth, their ethereal forms materialized before me. My two loyal dogs, their eyes gleaming with devotion, stood alongside their nine rambunctious puppies, each wagging their tails in joyful anticipation.
The air around us shimmered with a mystic glow, the spirits radiating an aura of pure magic. As I beheld these loyal companions, a sense of connection and kinship filled me. We were bound by the power I had acquired, each of them carrying a piece of the strength I had fought so hard to attain.
The joy in their eyes was infectious, and as they explored their new home, playfully bounding and nipping at each other, I couldn't help but smile. I knew that, together, we would protect this castle and the power it held. I gathered them around me, their excitement palpable, and declared, "From now on, this is our home, and each of you will have a piece of my power. I will call upon you to use that power to defend it."
With pride and affection, I watched the pups disperse as their newfound purpose filled them with determination. They embraced their new roles as guardians of our home, and a bond was forged that transcended the boundaries of the dream world.
I realized there was still a lingering power within me, and it needed a vessel to be safely contained. I glanced down at the pendant that hung around my neck, its simple elegance a stark contrast to the grandeur of the castle.
Right then, I knew that the pendant would serve as the perfect receptacle for the remaining power. I held the pendant in my palm, feeling its cool metal against my skin, closed my eyes and focused my thoughts, drawing upon the strength that coursed through me. As I concentrated, the pendant began to glow with a warm, radiant light, its surface pulsating with the same energy that had granted me victory. Slowly and deliberately, I channeled the remaining power into the pendant, feeling the energy flow from my fingertips, and into the small, delicate object.
As the last of the power was absorbed by the pendant, the glow intensified, and then gradually receded, leaving the pendant imbued with a subtle, iridescent shimmer. The transfer was complete, and a sense of serenity washed over me, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
I placed the pendant back around my neck, the now-enchanted token a constant reminder of the epic adventure and the incredible power I had acquired. A talisman to inspire and protect me in the countless adventures yet to come.
As I awoke, I carried the strength, wisdom, and love I had gained in the dream world with me, ready to face the challenges of life with newfound resilience and courage.

I live in a townhome across the street from a cemetery. It’s a small-town cemetery, with a little over a thousand tombstones. There is one looping road that circles the perimeter. To get to the gravesite, most people have to park, and walk. It seems to me that there’s not much room left for any more burials. The lot is dense with corpses. Sitting at my desk, I can see the entire cemetery from my bedroom window. There are five streetlamps spread out along the road. Four of them are sodium orange lights, but one, in the very distant corner, next to the sharpest curve in the road, is an old green streetlamp, shorter than the others. At night, before bed, I open up my window, turn out the lights and just stare. Sometimes I listen to a little music, but normally I like to listen to the silence emanating from the cemetery. That sort of silence can both relaxing and unnerving.
There are times when I will watch a burial, but I don’t make a regular habit of it, simply because most of those are during the day, when I’m either in school or if its Saturday, hanging out with my friends. There was one particular burial I didn’t want to miss though. Shannon Taylor, a cheerleader, had died in a car accident. It took them three weeks, with volunteers and cadaver dogs to find her body. Her prick boyfriend had been drinking and lost control of the car, skidding off of Devil’s Elbow and into the Cumberland River. Devil’s Elbow is a treacherous narrow winding road, with a steep embankment. Kevin Williams had convinced her that he was alright to drive. He was a piece of shit, so I didn’t really care much if he died. With his passing, a good number of people at that school had their lives exponentially improved. I mean he was a sadistic bully, not just your ordinary run-of-the mill bully looking to release a little stress. No, this guy loved causing other people pain. He loved causing misery. Shannon, on the other hand, was the nicest person I had ever encountered, and she was gorgeous. I had a serious crush on her. I loved everything about her, her style, her looks, even something as simple as her mannerisms, or her walk. How could someone so perfect love such a douchebag? I couldn’t understand it.
I didn’t know Shannon that well. I was too shy to ever approach her. I hated myself for being such a coward, but I’d rather not know for sure if I had a chance or not. I’d rather live in an unsure fantasy than a certain sad reality. I heard she was buried in her cheerleading outfit, which offended me, because I thought to summarize her whole life as nothing but a cheerleader was to trivialize who was she was as a person, plus I just thought it was dumb as shit.
All the popular kids were there, feigning sincerity at her passing. I couldn’t see the coffin, but I could tell when she had been lowered into the ground, buried under the earth. There was a visible wave of grief as those who truly loved her realized that she was gone forever. There’s something about packing down that last batch of dirt that evokes weeping.
I stayed in my room watching the scene unfold, until the last person was gone. I remember looking at that fresh mound of dirt and feeling a deep sense of loneliness. I walked down to her plot and said a little prayer. There were wreaths and flowers littered about her grave. I saw one with a picture of her and Kevin at a waterfall. I took the picture and put it in my pants pocket. Her plot was right under one of the orange lights. I thought how gawdy to have her grave under a streetlamp. I wish she would have been under a tree, maybe a beautiful oak, anything but a streetlamp. She deserved a peaceful, serene setting.
After some time, I walked back home. I cut Kevin out of the picture and threw that half away. I gazed at the photo of Shannon for a good while and then placed the picture in my sock drawer. The guys and I were going to a throw-back arcade, with pinball machines and retro video games. I get lost in that place. It’s like meditation without effort and the uncomfortable stillness. I don’t have to chase thoughts away. The ringing and the lights put me in another mental state, a peaceful nothingness, separated from the anxiety of life, but that night I couldn’t enjoy it. Shannon had intruded upon my Nirvana.
When I got home that night I went straight upstairs to my room, got her picture out of the sock drawer, and sat at my desk. Her grave was illuminated under the orange light. There was a weird anticipation on my part, like I expected something ghastly to happen. I couldn’t move my eyes from the plot but to my surprise something did happen, not where I expected, but under the green lamp. I saw passing under the light a girl dressed in what seemed to me a cheerleading outfit. She was pacing back and forth. I could only she her when she was under the light, but when she ventured outside the light, she was invisible. This went on for about five minutes and then she was gone for good. I reasoned that I was sleepy and probably hallucinating, that there was nothing there. I waited for a few more minutes but nothing else happened. I went to sleep and thought nothing else of it until the next night.
The next night I was too curious not to look. I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and sat at my desk, moving the curtain aside to get a clear view of the green light in the cemetery. Nothing at first but after some time elapsed, she appeared. This time she wasn’t pacing but looking in my direction. She motioned for me to come to her. It had to be Shannon. I just knew it. I closed the curtain and crawled back into bed, but again, I couldn’t sleep. I got up and got dressed. I looked out the window, but she wasn’t there.
I quietly made my way downstairs, doing my best not to wake up my mom. I got through the creaking front door without any trouble. The hinges on that front door sing like hysterical banshees. There was no way anyone would ever be able to break in through the front door without alerting me to their presence. My mom on the other was a deep sleeper. The house could burn down, and she would never notice. I walked through the front lawn and across the road. It was a clear night and there was a full moon. It had been a sweltering hot day with no rain, but when I stepped into the cemetery the ground was saturated with water, pools of dark murky water scattered throughout, reflecting the moon’s light. I sloshed through the mud to the back end of the lot, near the green streetlamp. I looked up at the sky and it seemed like it was undulating. I felt as if I was looking up at the surface of a river, while trapped on the bottom. My chest was throbbing, and I started to choke for air. I moved toward the green light. It was all I could see now, my vision clouded, the light scattered by an ever-thickening fog.
From the light I could see a hand reaching out towards me. The skin hung loose, wrinkled, and pale, the last two fingers broken and bent upward. The hand grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into the light. I immediately gasped for air. I could feel my lungs working, the blood moving throughout my body with much needed oxygen. I fell to the ground and gazed upward. It was Shannon but she wasn’t beautiful. What was left of her blond hair was thin and matted, exposing much of her bald head. One eye was missing, and the other eye was bulging, skin and eyelid eaten away by some unknown scavenger. Her skin was a pale blue, with deep bloody gashes in her face, arms, and legs. She was dressed in her cheerleading outfit. She began to speak. It was difficult for her to enunciate through her mangled mouth, upper lip missing, broken and missing teeth, an eternal damnable smile.
“Kill him.”
I was shoved out of the light and back into the darkness of the cemetery. The ground was dry, and I could breathe. There were no pools of water, no movement in the sky other than the few wispy clouds that skirted in front of the moon. I made my way back home, with the thought of being trapped in a car underwater lodged in my head. It made me anxious. I felt I couldn’t move. My muscles were atrophied. It took all my energy to get back home and into bed.
The next morning, I woke up late to the sound of activity in the cemetery. I got up and looked out the window. The scene looked familiar. I watched as family and friends gathered around the grave of a loved one, exactly where Shannon had been buried. I was confused. I got dressed and rushed down to the grave. I noticed Shannon’s parents wailing and some of the people from school listening to the preacher. There in front was the wreath, attached in the middle, a picture of Shannon and Kevin with a waterfall in the background.
“What are you doing here?” I heard an angry whisper. It was Melissa, another cheerleader, but one with a nasty disposition. I just ignored her and started walking back towards my home. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone in the woods behind the cemetery. Someone watching, waiting, looking for an opportunity to say goodbye.
I changed my course and started walking towards the woods. I got closer than I imagined I would have without being noticed. The spying person looked up. We looked each other in the eyes. It was Kevin, alive and well, perfectly fine. He was teary eyed, and his face expressed a tangible fear. He turned and ran deeper into the woods. I didn't want to follow him. I didn't want a confrontation. I was pondering whether or not I should report him to the police. I hated him but I also feared him.
That night, whatever damn night it was, as I lay sleeping in bed, I heard the front door open. The hinges screaming in ecstasy, piercing my ears, and shocking me out of sleep. I laid there for a while, working up the courage to check and see who was in our house. I finally made my way out of bed and went to the landing. Downstairs the door was wide open. A trail of wet footprints went from the living room hardwood floor to the kitchen, and back through the living room and up the carpeted stairs. They went past my room and to my mom’s room. I saw that her door was open. This was odd and out of character for my mom. She always locked her bedroom door for fear of intruders. I walked over to the door and peered inside. Standing over my mother was a water drenched witch, in a cheerleading outfit, with a knife in hand, ready to stab my mother in her sleep. Shannon turned her gaze in my direction and lowered the knife.
“Kill him.” Shannon backed into the dark corner and was gone. I turned on the bedroom light. No one was in the room, the only evidence being the wet footprints.
“What… what are you doing?”
“Nothing mom. Go back to sleep. I just thought I heard something.” I shut off the lights and closed the door.
The next morning, I woke up early. I went to the woods behind the cemetery and waited. The line of cars meandered through the road and in front of the gravesite. People slammed their car doors. There was muffled conversation. I hid in a patch of brush, knowing exactly where Kevin would be. I could hear the preacher start the ceremony. I had brought a hammer with me. In the distance, amidst the trees, I saw Kevin sneaking up the trail. He positioned himself so that he could watch without being noticed, bent down and out of sight. I waited and kept my focus on Kevin. After the burial he watched everyone leave and then waited what seemed to be an hour more. He stood up and jogged over to the gravesite. He just stood there, looking and weeping. I felt sorry for him. I didn’t know exactly what had happened. I imagined several different scenarios, but the most reasonable to me was that he felt guilty. I didn’t see him as a killer, just a dumb drunk teen who wasn’t able to save his girlfriend. Then again, I really didn't know. He grabbed the photo off of the wreath and started to leave. As he came to the trail, I let him get a little in front of me. I wrestled myself free from the brush and snuck up behind him. I stepped on a stick, it snapped, he turned, and I reflexively hit him in the forehead above his left eye. He fell to the ground unconscious. I knew he wasn’t dead; I could see his chest moving up and down.
I dropped the hammer to the ground. I couldn’t believe I had done it. I had changed my mind but at the last second, I had swung without thinking, only reacting to the situation. I had no time to panic or feel sorry for myself. My one chance was to dump him unconscious into the river near Devil’s Elbow. Let the authorities find him where they had expected him to be. I ran back home and got the car. I drove on the cemetery road all the way around to where the woods were. I had to pull off the road and into the grass to get the car as close to Kevin as possible. I popped the trunk. Kevin was heavy, but I could feel the adrenaline pumping. I dragged him by the ankles to the back of the car. I picked him up like a fairytale maiden and dumped him in the trunk. I went back and retrieved the hammer.
When I got to Devil’s Elbow, I had to drive down past it to the bottom of the hill and closer to the river. I parked the car on the shoulder of the road. A couple of cars passed. I waited until it was clear and made haste, opening the trunk and dragging Kevin out onto the road. I could hear another car coming, tires rubbing against the road, atop of Devil’s Elbow. I wouldn’t make it in time so I dragged him as fast as I could to the other side of the car, out of sight. I quickly popped the hood and acted like I was broken down.
The car passed without even slowing down. I left the hood up, thinking that another car would be approaching, and it would be best to keep the charade going. I went and started the arduous task of getting Kevin’s body into the river. I grabbed his ankles and heard him moan. I couldn’t do it. I thought about grabbing a rock and crushing in his skull, but he would suffer. I closed the hood and the trunk, started the car and drove off.
I was looking in the rear-view mirror as I drove away. I knew this was the end for me. I was going to jail. I saw Kevin get up and stagger out into the road, not realizing where he was. Coming down the hill was a motorcycle, doing about a hundred miles an hour. People loved taking motorcycles down Devil’s Elbow. It was a game, a thrill to brag about. This guy just happened to choose a day when a zombie pedestrian had been unwillingly installed into the course. The motorcyclist didn’t see Kevin until the last second. He swerved trying to miss Kevin, but instead the bike wobbled and blasted right into him, tossing Kevin and the cyclist into the air and over the side of the embankment. I stopped and pulled off to the side of the road. I could see both their bodies being swept down the river, neither appearing to be alive. There was no effort to swim back to shore. They were faced down in the water, looking into the void of the deep moving river.
I drove home, parked the car, and went to bed early. Later on in the night, I heard my mom watching television downstairs.
“Devil’s Elbow got another one. Some motorcycle lost control and went into the river. Oh, and they found that boy Kevin. He wasn’t too far from where the motorcycle went in. Weird, isn’t it?”
I walked upstairs and sat at my desk. I pulled the curtain back. There under the green cemetery light, stood a cheerleader, with what was probably her boyfriend. She had her back turned toward me, but the guy was looking in my direction, motioning to me, inviting me to come into the green light. I looked down into the waste basket and saw a picture of Shannon and Kevin, standing in front of a waterfall.

“Not all dairy is white.” I said.
“Milk is.” He replied.
“Milk isn’t all dairy.” I said back.
“Cream, yogurt–”
“Butter.” Got him.
“Some butter is white.”
“Good butter is yellow.” Really got him.
“Ok, that’s one.”
“Cheese, chocolate milk–”
“Because it has chocolate in it.”
He’s right of course but “We still don’t know if dairy is her only intolerance.” I told him. “The name doesn’t make any sense.”
We were talking about public enemy number one, The Woman in White. Legend has it, she had one sip of milk at a diner then killed everybody in the joint. I don’t know if someone at the Bureau coined the name or someone on the press, but it stuck. She was the most dangerous intolerant of all, and we were hunting her. ‘Dairy Intolerants’ was the Bureau’s official term. We called them ‘Cuds.’
After a beat my partner piped up again, “Sixty five percent of all felons are unable to digest dairy. That most likely means her too. The name makes sense, we just don’t know if it’s holistic yet.”
He was always turning to stats when he knew he was losing an argument. I didn’t blame him for it, I was just always more of a gut guy. But everyone knows guts can’t be trusted these days, so stats usually won out. Before I had a chance to reply it was our turn to order.
“I’ll take a latte, please.” I said to the barista.
“OD card?” She replied. I already had my Diet card in my hand. I held it up so she could scan it *bleep* “Oat or almond milk?” She asked.
“Oat.” I said begrudgingly.
“Coming up.”
“I’ll take a latte too.” Said my partner.
“OD card?” *bleep* “What kind of milk would you like?”
“Dairy, of course. Whole milk.”
Smug bastard. Despite my years at the Bureau, that response always made me feel less than him. Total tolerance. Bastard.
We hopped back in our cruiser and headed to the next name and address on the suspects list. As we sped past the crowds of people getting on with their normalized lives, I wondered, are they happier now? The virus happened so long ago. So long, that I heard they started teaching it in schools as part of World History. I guess anyone under the age of fifteen hadn’t had to live through the worst of it. It was probably the most disturbing virus of all time, spread through passed gas. My entire family was wiped out just because they smelled some asshole’s fart. Kids still found it funny but I didn’t see any humor in it. All the deaths were bad enough but when they finally figured out what was killing everyone, the impact on the economy, on society, of shutting down all the dairies and farms and anywhere else that produced intolerable foods, was way worse. In hindsight, I don’t know if the Government Tolerance Program was the right solution but it was the only solution everyone could agree on. It meant that all of our diets were now monitored monthly. Which basically means I’m cranky every single day. It takes a Cud to hunt a Cud, I guess. I have another evaluation next week and if they take one more food off my Optimized Diet card, I’ll flip. Somehow my partner tolerates everything, even cauliflower. And he intentionally lauds it over me. The bastard had ice cream yesterday and won’t shut up about it.
We’d been on her trail for weeks now. But part of The Woman in White’s talent was evasion. It’s like she was never there. They should have called her The Invisible Woman. The name wasn’t even important, the amount of people she was said to have farted to death was. Of course, there weren’t many witnesses. No one could survive her gas. From the various crime scene reports it seemed like it may go well beyond dairy for her. Sounded like she couldn't tolerate any foods. Imagine that, every bite you took could be a murder. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost. She never had many witnesses but anyone who was lucky enough to be heavily masked and survive said she was the most beautiful woman they ever saw. Beautiful and deadly.
Sometime late last night, we got the best tip we’d ever gotten. A cook was sealed in a restaurant’s glass meat locker, the ones where they show you the rest of the cow you’re about to chow down on, and saw her take down the entire restaurant. Then watched as she fled the place and took off in a beige Ford; California plate; four, Y, something, something, something. Couldn’t see the rest. We’d been following up on the plates all morning but it was a long damn list. Thirty eight of them were men, twenty two of them turned out to be dead already, thirteen of them were too old to leave the house and four of them had total tolerance. Means we had seventy nine suspects left and as of 9:48 this morning we were only eight people in.
We pulled up to a ramshackle apartment block, had a quick sip on our lattes, and went back to work. My partner hopped up the steps ahead of me. He always had an extra pep in his step after dairy. Since he got to the door first he got to go in and ask the questions. I got to wait outside by the window and be backup. I looked around to pass the time. It was a crappy little place. Not that I lived in a palace or anything but at least my neighbors cared enough to put their trash in the trash cans and not leave it lying all over the hallway. Ice cream cartons, pizza boxes, falafel wrappers. We’re talking dairy, gluten and chickpeas. This woman must be a Megatolerant. I guessed that’s what they were talking about in there, total tolerance. Total bastards. I peeked through the window and saw even more class A foods inside, a table full of them. Was this an interrogation or a Tolerants’ feast?
For a second it looked like my partner was doubled over. Like someone had kicked him in the stomach. I tried to get a better look through the blinds. I thought I saw his eyes rolling back. He looked like he’d been hit with a fart. I grabbed the trash can to smash the window and get him out but realized quickly it would let any gas out into the hall. I’d be done for. Not to mention anyone else in the vicinity. I could see the bloat was starting to set in. His stomach was already twice its normal size. And then I saw her. She wasn’t in white but she was beautiful. And clearly deadly. The Woman in White. That had to be her. She looked back at me, even more scared than he was in there.
I ran back down the stairs to get my mask from the car and grabbed his too. I thought if I had gotten there in time, maybe I could have gotten ahead of the worst of it. I kicked down the front door with my mask firmly in place. I still didn’t completely trust these things but at least the Bureau gave us the best ones out there. I looked like a GI Joe scuba diver. I ran into the apartment and went to fit my partner’s mask on him. I already knew it was too late. There was vomit everywhere, diarrhea too. He was already gone. She was gone too, from the apartment at least.
I headed back down to the cruiser to call for backup and an ambulance. Maybe I should’ve just called for a hearse. I waited in the cruiser for the backup and for the rest of the team. I couldn’t believe she was right there in front of me. She was beautiful. What a curse. I guess when you can’t eat anything, you just eat everything. I wondered if she meant to kill all those people, or if she meant to kill my partner. She was just eating in the privacy of her own home. It’s illegal but we turn a blind eye when it’s their own home. We have to. We know everybody cheats.
I took a sip of my latte to calm my nerves. I can’t stand oat milk. It maddens me to even call it ‘milk.’ More like oat ‘juice.’ My partner didn’t deserve to go like that. I guess not even total tolerance can save you from Intolerants. I picked up his latte and gave it a sniff. Man, it smelled good. I don’t know if it was the trauma or the longing but I took a sip. Damn, it tasted good. I took another. Hell, it made no difference by that point so I drank the rest.
It took twenty minutes for our so-called backup to back me up. By that time I could already feel my stomach turning. I rolled all the windows up to be safe and tried to communicate everything that had happened through a combination of a raised voice and sign language. I couldn’t tell them I had just jeopardized my digestion, I’m a Bureau man. They would’ve had my badge. And then, it happened. A fart. My first in fourteen years. It wasn’t so bad. My own, anyway. You can’t die off your own supply, as they say. Just then, the Captain tapped on the window. I couldn’t get out of the cruiser, even opening the window a crack would’ve put the whole squad in danger. I just played dumb instead. I’m bereaved. Maybe the captain bought it, maybe not. But the last thing I heard him say through the gas-proof glass was “two week suspension.” I guess I deserved that.
Now what do I do? I couldn’t get the taste of that whole milk dairy latte out of my mind. If I’m going to be by myself for the next two weeks, now would be the best time to have another. I haven’t fallen off the wagon once in fourteen years. I’ve read about people who do though. They shut themselves in for months and just eat everything the government says they can’t. Block all the air vents, tape up all the doors and windows, get safety glass installed in their doorways. They get around their OD card limitations by hitting the black market. There’s a whole underground movement about it: Eat Everything, Tolerate Nothing. Rebels. I remember way back when a whole faction of them staged a sit-in and accidentally farted each other to death. People weren’t that dumb anymore, and were way less public about it, which suited me just fine. I’ve staked out enough of these underground sellers to know the network pretty well. I could have a whole milk dairy latte here by three o’clock. I could get real dairy ice cream by four. Ok, I decided, one latte. Then I would take the rest of the two weeks to dry out and get safe.
A week later, I was gut deep in cheesecakes, milkshakes and pizzas. It was heaven. The worst part was now that my obsession with intolerable foods was satisfied, all I could think about was her, The Woman in White. I went through all my old case files and tracked her movements. There were no real patterns. The fear I saw in her eyes back at the apartment was probably the only thing that guided her. No strategy, no killer instinct. This wasn’t preempted, wasn’t planned. Then I remembered all the different class A foods in her apartment and the trash in the hallway, plus the various crime scene reports. Up until now we’d been logging her as a Dairy Intolerant because of that name, but she had more problems than dairy. I grabbed my files on all the other Cuds, Doughdoughs and Stinkers I’d been following. They weren’t super up to date so I logged onto the Bureau’s database using my dead partner’s login. Mine had already been suspended. On the database, suspects are organized by their official terminology: Dairy Intolerants, Gluten Intolerants, Allium Intolerants and so on. I cross referenced any events that happened in similar areas. But again, no real patterns.
I decided to get in touch with a few of my underground suppliers to see if they could help me fill any holes in the Bureau’s data. In fact, I called all of them. Got them to bring me all kinds of intolerable foods. Onion bhajis, French onion soup, panna cotta, cauliflower nachos. I timed it out so I could have enough time with each one to dig for any details that might intersect with what I already knew. Obviously they all knew the home visits drill. Some of the more high end rebel Intolerants had had a prison-like communication system installed: a door-sized pane of gas-proof glass seals off the entrance and a phone on each side lets the buyer and seller talk. They were usually installed under the guise of protecting people on the outside in case of any mishaps but we all knew what was really going on. I had one installed last year to get closer to this whole black market. It was perfect for what I needed right now.
My first few visits were somewhat promising, I got all the class A foods I wanted as well as a few tidbits of info that I could follow up on. Most of my suppliers were too savvy to give too much up, so the foods just piled up behind me as I went through my black market Rolodex. I got slowly deeper and deeper into the organization than I had ever been, meeting with suppliers I’d never met before. Worse still, they had never met me, so their lips got tighter and tighter. Then I recognized someone. For a split second I thought she could be my lucky break, until I clocked where I knew her from: my partner’s killer, The Woman in White. She was at my door. No wonder she had access to all those class A’s, she was deep in the whole network. I wondered if she recognized me. It didn’t look like it. She was staring right through me. She put the class A’s she was delivering through the package slot in my wall, an assortment of dairy-based dips if I remember correctly, mostly onion and garlic flavored. Then I realized she was staring straight through me at the massive pile of class A foods on my table.
I wondered if I should invite her in. I thought she’d probably be too scared about the air quality in my place. I let her see me switch on the air purification system, I’d had it installed about the same time as the glass. I don’t know if that made her feel any safer but I could tell she wanted in. The table full of assorted class A’s was too tempting to turn down. I motioned to the door control and she nodded slowly. I hit the button and the glass slid up. She walked straight in. If there was any trace of my noxious fumes in there she didn’t show it. She walked straight over to the table behind me and opened up a quattro formaggi deep dish pie that I had ordered with raw onions on top so they knew I was serious. She took a big bite and passed me a slice. We chased it with deep fried mozzarella sticks which we slathered in the garlicky tomato sauce they came with. Then we had a sip or two of clam chowder and a fork full of heavy alfredo. I sliced up an onion tartlet. She fed me a handful of sharp cheddar quiche and put her arms around me. We were in Heaven. Our stomach’s were in hell.
I realized it had been maybe sixteen years or more since I had smelled someone else’s gas. I wondered if it would be as bad as I remembered. Or as bad as we’d all been reminded, over and over. I didn’t care, I was ready for it. I would take anything she shot at me. I just wanted to consume her entirely.
*Parp*
There it was. I could smell it. It was bad but I didn’t care. I wanted it all.
*Parp*
There I go too. Now we’re even.
I knew my hours were numbered. Hell, my minutes were. I’ve heard it could even be seconds. I still didn’t care. And from the looks of it, neither did she. We were both completely in it. Till death… do… us…
*Parp*

A homeless teenager reaches out to the Shil’vati on first day of the invasion of Earth.
This is a rewrite of my original story ‘Loyalist’.
Credit to u/bluefishcake for writing the original SSB story.
Pizzaulostin who has been beta reading since the beginning.
and u/BruhMomentGEE
Credit to u/HollowShel for getting me started with this!
This story is based in the SSB universe.
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as always, comments are welcome.

Chapter 17:

Thanks to the author of Alien-Nation for editing this chapter!

Ruhal:

“We are sorry about the restraints. Your dossier has a security lock from the Office of Interior that I can’t even read, and all our supervisor could tell us was ‘interview with caution’,” one of the two agents explained.
I regarded my handcuffs with professional disapproval. They had a longer than regular chain for ambulatory movement and inmate processing, by the deep, I could even use them as garrote if needed. They had revealed the limits of their rank with that apology.
“No need to worry. I am sure this will be a formality in less than an hour,” I told them, if there was one thing that was in abundance on the planet Sky it was Interior and undercover commando trainees. I hoped this would probably be their most interesting case all month.
“So, would you care to explain how you are raising a human, that is also considered a military asset?” The agent inquired as she pulled out her slate.
“Of course, Klein surrendered himself and requested medical aid and refugee status. He was willing to answer essential questions regarding human culture that aided in liberating humanity into the Shil’vati Empire. He wouldn’t be safe on Earth anymore, and I mentioned that he was still important in writing my reports. If I had my slate, I could give you the relevant documentation,” I said in a conversational tone, without any of the emotions that weighed the story, and glossing over the specifics.
“No need. I have everything you submitted to the Interior, including his asset designation, the interrogation transcripts, and even his doctor’s contact info. To be honest with you it’s the only reason we haven’t interviewed you yet, even after a dozen calls about a ‘possible trafficked human’ since he arrived. Your information is corroborated with several other departments. The issue now is what the medivac scans found.” The agent pushed a slate towards me with medical notes bolded for emphasis ‘probable severe abuse’.
“The report shows a recent history of blunt force trauma, abrasions, and even muscle tearing, in short. It looks like the human has been systematically tortured for months. You also have recently requested restricted training armor in the human’s size.” The agent explained.
Ah, that was my mistake. I had been treating Klein as another child, just with some unique needs. It looks like there were other considerations, ones that I failed to see.
“I really do need my omni-slate to illustrate this, it’s on my desk right now if one of your assistants could get it?” I asked, hoping they got the suggestion to not leave me with only one interrogator in the room so they wouldn’t be graded too harshly.
They thankfully acquiesced without comment, and with my omni-slate in hand I pulled up the latest video of Klein practicing with me, the speed and brutality was difficult for me to sit through. Then, Klein pulled off his helmet seconds later, laughing in the rain. Unconcerned that, without armor, we could have just killed each other- I was grateful he had, else it might’ve been interpreted quite differently. “The bruising mostly from everyday participation at a Rakiri gym, and some remnants from before I got proper gear for baton practice. He heals extremely fast, and more so, he isn’t happy unless he exercises for at least an hour or two a day.”
I pulled up another video. Klein was sitting at the table bouncing his leg at an ever-increasing pace while trying to focus on a decently complex equation. He finally stood up and started pacing mouthing words as he skipped in time to an unheard rhythm.
“W-what’s he doing?” The agent asked, looking just a tad disturbed by the display of what seemed erratic behavior.
“A sort of dance while playing the song ‘a fine mesh net’ on his headphones. There was a monsoon that Shel weekend, and even I’m not crazy enough to fight in a thunderstorm like that. He does that around the house for an hour, and then finally settles in on a video game,” I explained to the agents, who were looking at me dubiously.
“So, you oversee an adolescent who is an intelligence asset, but also seems poorly fitted for Shil’vati life. Why the baton practice? Wouldn’t that make him even more dangerous, more of an outsider? Are you trying to sabotage his integration? Why not take him shopping, instead, or teach him beauty and self-care routines?” They were antagonizing. Countering every argument to see how I reacted. It seemed they could at least interrogate decently well.
“I hardly call a few quirks ‘poor fitting’. The baton practice is for obvious self-defense. Its intention is to make him dangerous,” I explained, letting the interviewers lead the conversation.
The back and forth went on for a while, but I presented a highlight reel of the last few months. Including a Rakiri gym video when Klein tried to flourish a wall climb and smashed his shoulder on the ledge while face planting into the mud.
The agents would not be arresting me today. They would need medical reports, and would require Klein, Hario, and Compassion Through Deeds to attest while truth scanned that these were sports injuries, and not some conspiracy to commit torture. We were also going to need to see an ICAD agent every two weeks for counseling. I had no idea what ICAD was, but I would investigate them later.
Finally, the agents appeared they were closing up the interview. I tried not to brace myself as they asked the complicated question. “One thing we need to know is, what is Klein to you? If he is just a crucial asset, then why haven’t you contacted a local volunteer family foster? Or was the military asset just a cover to find a male heir?”
I sighed, the truth wasn’t incriminating, but if I didn’t word it right, I would look like the worst sort of military tourist. “I had, originally, taken care of Klein as a key intelligence asset. Within that first week though, I had found that despite the decades of preparation, there wasn’t a process for someone to claim asylum as a child during first contact. He would be in military bureaucratic limbo without an advocate. We both know where he would end up.”
The room cooled by several degrees, which was a pity, I almost got the talkative agent to laugh at Klein’s antics. “Out of duty I investigated ways I could bring him home until I could find resources to place him in a stable situation with all the resources to help a xeno without a community. I found someone who was willing to help in exchange for reports on Klein’s adaptation to Shil’vati lifestyle. That’s Klein’s purpose as a military asset in my home.”
I continued. I was saying more on than I needed to, but if they did a follow up investigation later for some other incident, which was a when, not if, then I wanted this on record. “Klein has become part of this household though, despite, or maybe because, of his oddities. He may not be Shil’vati, but he seems to have integrated well. It’s why, while it was never my intention, when he is an adult, I will offer him full adoption, and title of home guardian.”
I watched the agents exchange looks, then the agent made a few taps on her slate. ‘Upper left, middle center, probably a message app’. I then listened for the telltale taps of a yes as a micro expression of a self-satisfied smile crossed the agent’s face. I decided to stop playing interviewee.
“So, you won the bet on if I would claim the human as my son, how long has that pool been building?” I asked folding my hands together.
The agent answered before she could think. “Two months… Wait!? How did you-”
The agent was cut off by the squawk of the slate’s speaker. “Agents you did well enough with the interview portion, however; you absolutely failed to secure the subject. Could you please illustrate to them why I stressed caution {petal of death’s veil}?”
The code name wasn’t one I had heard in decades, but I wasn’t going to snub an old handler. I kicked on my fast reaction mods to max speed and lunged over the table past the still sitting agents. I pirouetted and twisted the restraints into a loop as I brought them down over the left agent’s head and pulled back carefully, lightly touching the chain of my restraints around the neck of the agent before she could even react.
I kicked off my mods and caught my breath as time returned to normal. Both agents’ eyes went wide with shock as the one not about to be strangled tried to get away to pull out her weapon. “W-who are you!?”
“I’m going to slowly release you and put my hands up, is that everything you needed {hated old friend}?” I directed my question to the slate, using the code High Shil word to show I was playing along.
“More than enough. Agent! Holster your weapon and come back to the safe room. We need to go over security procedures,” the slate responded, and the very brief confrontation was over.
The agents walked out, and Siltan stomped in looking like she could bring about a thunderstorm by pure force of will. “We weren’t the only ones to get visits from the ‘majesty’s’ Interior today. Cee let me know that the Interior is also interrogated Reqellia as well.”
I now understood why these two rookies were here. It was a distraction for me. I grumbled as I picked up my slate and called Reqellia. Her face appeared a second later.
“By the Deep, it’s been a long day,” Reqellia breathed out as I heard a door slam, then she cursed some more.
“Tell me everything. Is Klein ok?” I asked.
“Cee says he’s fine and is waking him up. Klein might be getting a mod himself before she closes him up though because, oh- looks like it’s my day is going to get longer still. ICAD is here, and it’s a Hydrean in a Gearschilde clinic.” Reqellia hung up, and I stared at the phone in confusion.
It was time to find out what ICAD was.

Klein:

I blearily came to, as high powered, piercing white light flooded my half open eyes. I tried to move my arm to shield my face and found I couldn’t. Actually, I couldn't move or even feel anything from the neck down.
I started to panic as I turned my head, focusing on lettering on a terminal, tried to sigh, and felt what few muscles I could control turn to lead as I sank back on the medical bed. Thank the goddess, it was Shil and Gearschilde lettering on the slate and medical supplies.
“Good afternoon Klein, are you okay? Your heart rate spiked.” I heard Cee, or full name Compassion Through Deeds, speak and turned my head to see her. She wore a dark red lab coat and regarded me with unblinking cybernetic eyes. Most of her orange skin had been replaced with dark steel etched with stylized waves and swirls of silver. Her face still emoted in a pleasant smile, but had that uncanny valley look of unblemished synth skin. I looked down to see a dozen micro surgical tools still inside me.
I should have been screaming at the sight, but all I felt was relief and joy. “Yeah, I just worried for a half second that I had hallucinated the last few months and was actually on a back on Earth on some black-market operating table getting my kidney stolen.”
Cee was aghast. “Does that happen on Earth?”
I would shrug, but again, I couldn’t move, instead I responded. “Rumors of it happening, but I never knew anyone personally.”
Cee reassured me. “Well, good news Klein, you are on Sky, you are in a Gearschilde clinic where stealing vital organs is a legal, moral and religious crime of unrepentant severity. What I have done is remove your appendix, and let the sedatives wear off so we can discuss what you want in its place.”
“In place of my appendix? Why?” I asked, it wasn’t like I really needed the vestigial organ turn internal hand grenade.
“Customary in Gearschilde for surgery is to be about giving a better life than just taking from the body. So, any ideas of what would make your life better?”
I thought about the bruising, the constant having to put healing patches on, and the annoyance of doing so. I thought about the near fatality of almost blowing my appendix, and if something could have fixed the issue before it got out of hand. “What about a healing dispenser? I keep having to put on patches and gel at the end of the day, and if I miss a spot, I will pay for it later.”
Cee gave me a grateful expression. “That’s a perfect first implant. I was worried you were going to ask for something more aggressive. When I was your age, I got my first defensive mod, a retractable forearm knife. Of course, my next surgery was being stitched back together after accidently stabbing myself with it.”
I tried to chuckle, but I didn’t have control of my diaphragm for it. “So, what’s next?”
Cee explained. “Well, the fabricator in the other room is right now creating your implant. It shouldn’t take long; are you ok being immobilized for the next hour or so?”
I thought about it, and honestly, I was still surprised I wasn’t panicking. “No, but I’m going to get really bored just laying here, do the Gearschilde have any good myths or stories?”
I knew I was fishing in an untapped pool that was guaranteed to have something. I wasn’t expecting my doctor to be gleeful at the thought though. “Oh blessed be you child, I am a surgeon priest, half the reason I am in this vocation is to tell stories. I take it you know nothing about Gearschilde mythology, or even our history?”
It was on my list of rabbit holes to get into, but instead I binged the rest of Prince Of The Stars and cried, it was nice. “No, but I would love to hear them.”
“Well if you want to, every Shel we have open services and brunch. But since you are new to Gearschilde mythology we should start with one of my favorites. The story of the Hopestrider.”
The ceiling lights dimmed, and the sterile operating room felt surprisingly cozy as I leaned my head back. Listening to Cee starting up the tale. “Our sect requires us to lead what can best be called ‘child technician classes’. Learning to take care of machines, which includes us by the start of adolescence, if not before. It’s a critical life skill, and teaching it is considered an important part of our religious studies.”
‘Cyberpunk VeggieTales’ Squirrel brain chittered.
No one wants your opinion squirrel brain. I thought back.

Cee’s story: Hope Strider

“Long ago our world was full of harsh life. The valleys were often filled with poisonous mists and deadly predators that could rip apart even the strongest of our people. The mountain kingdoms were brutal fiefdoms that sent many to their deaths mining precious metals from the dangerous wastes of the valleys. Drilling into the heart of the mountains provided the power necessary to purify water, and later, steam engines turned those fiefdoms into empires. Expanding into the wastes using the lowest class of people as its foundation.”
Cee paused for dramatic effect. “Then, everything changed.”
“The ground shook, and the mountain kingdoms erupted in fire and molten rock. Radioactive dust from these now volcanoes made the centers of civilization barren and deadly. Only the wasteland colonies in the poisonous mists provided any refuge, and so king and commoner alike huddled in the once disposable outposts of a ruined world. Our story starts a generation after the calamity with an unlucky child.”
I heard a ding, Cee stopped as the ceiling lights came up. “Oh dear, let me stop for a second to get the implant.”
I leaned back and thought about her nightmare world. When Cee returned, I didn’t even bother to open my eyes, too engrossed in the imagery of the story. “What happened to the child?”
I could hear the whirring as she started to work. Her voice I realized had taken a more scripted cadence. She must have automated her voice so she could focus. “In a metalworker’s home, a child was born with broken legs and brittle bones. It was common in those days for such a child to die that way. It was their first born and the parents did everything they could to save them. A surgeon was called. The child lost their legs, but kept their life.”
“The child lived in the workshop. Kept warm by the hearth’s fire, even unable to walk, they were curious. Day in and out, they watched their parents construct machines that helped the community make food, filter the air, and defend the homes from the starving, mutated, monsters that circled the fortress walls. The child felt helpless though. Only able to crawl within the confines of the home or be carried around like cargo about the maze-like town of winding stairs and narrow passageways.
“They spent much of their time learning, sitting near the hearth to keep warm, they did the careful work of filing gears and wheels needed to control what could be automated as each hand replaced was another that could be spent doing something else critical to keep the community alive. Still, the child wanted to do more. They could not deliver what they made, and had to rely on others to help them at every turn in life.”
“Little did the child know that in the hearth a machine spirit lived, getting by eating scrap metal that fell in and sleeping at night on the bed of embers. The machine spirit saw the child’s wish, an invention without form, and turned it into a dream for the child, since new machines would mean new machine spirits to play with.”
That night the child saw themselves flying over the cold gray landscape on a pair of machine legs. Traveling the dangerous paths to other towns, and giving the isolated towns hope and community. The child awoke with joy and crawled over to his workbench littered with scrap metal, now children….”
Cee stopped talking and her voice went back to an unscripted rhythm. “I just realized we can’t do the practical part of this story. In class each kid gets a hope strider stuffy with snaps to attach legs they make. We give them bits of copper. Show them how to bend and hammer it, and how to bond it by wrapping the joint in solder and then applying heat with a soldering iron heated in their own toy ‘hearth’ with a safety cover. Still we get a daily small burn or cut, but that in itself is a valuable lesson in tool safety.”
It sounded adorable in a weird, steampunk way. “Sounds fun, so, new legs?”
Cee got the que, as much as I loved the story, and the talk about kindergarten metal shop, I was still immobilized on the operating table. I heard surgical whirring, and the scripted voice came back. “Yes, the child works all night until they fit the new legs on, and for the first time stand up on their own! The parents are overjoyed as they watch them move about the house and that afternoon, with the help of an iron bar as a cane, they walk around their community by themselves.”
“However, it isn’t long before the legs start to see wear and tear, but the child persists, not wanting to stop and fix the creaking joints, until one day the legs stop working altogether and they fall down in a twisting staircase. Carried back to the workshop, they rest for days to heal before they are able to work again. Constructing a new set from the remains of the old. Now…”

Klein:

Cee stopped again, but this time she had moved away from me and was putting the now bloody surgical tools into a sanitizing system. “We're done! I am going to start removing the nerve blocks, so you’re going to be sore, but if things get too painful, let me know. Please, try not to move anything but your hands right now, even then I would advise against it.”
My whole body had that pins and needles feel and I tried to move my fingers, but it was sporadic and jerky. Cee distracted me by explaining my new implant. “So, this implant is very basic. It can only be requested to send diagnostic data. The implant only administers more healing serum at a safe, steady rate if, and only if, it doesn’t detect any in your bloodstream. There is an injection site with a color change circle around it. It uses standard go, caution, stop colors to let you know if it’s functioning. I want to wave your omni-pad over the site and check the diagnostics at least once a day. It should hopefully catch if something like this is happening again.”
I tried to not move as I felt my body twitch. My gut felt like I had been run over, repeatedly. I asked, “why didn’t my medical monitoring implant catch this?”
Cee explained. “That’s only good for basic vitals. Near universal indicators of life and activity such as heart rate and blood pressure. The new implant will be able to scan for elevated protein counts. So, if one of your other internal organs starts to malfunction you can get a more unambiguous message that I hope you won’t ignore before getting medivac’d through the city.”
I chuckled a little at that, and it hurt. “Ow, ok, no movement. I thought it was just a pulled muscle or something.”
Cee looked down at me sternly, and her voice took on a deeper, more authoritative tone. “Child, more than enough Gearschilde have died thinking they can just, push themselves past their organic parts failing, if you have a torn muscle that hurts after you’ve used healing gel, then it’s serious enough you need to come see me, or another xeno-doctor, immediately. That’s why I hope your new implant can fix things before it gets to that point.”
Cee brightened after that and went back to the explanation of my implant. “Now that I scolded you, there is a color changing circle over your implant’s location. It will change color when the healing serum runs low, or and will start to flash in color, and try to ping your omni-pad if it detects a malfunction. The implant uses a standard Shil’ implant autoinjector, and it will reject anything not meant for red blood standard biology, but still be careful, it’s not a perfect filtering system. Today I’m giving you a set of autoinjectors I want you to use throughout the week. It's fortunate that your implant’s primary function will speed up your recovery time.”
Ok, that’s cool to know, but.
‘What happened to Hopestrider?!’ Squirrel brain demanded.
“So, the story, what happens next?” I asked as Cee helped me sit up. My stomach still hurt, but the feeling was in the overworked muscle category rather than a gut punch.
Cee started to explain as I put on what was essentially gym clothes. Soft, baggy pants and shirt with easy pull away tabs if they needed to remove the clothes quickly for checkups and surgical intervention. “Well, we don’t have time to go over the Hope Strider as a story, or even a summary, but if you want to, my husband teaches the child technician class during open services on Shel, you could sit in and listen.
Right now, I will give you a family crafted picture book that tells the core story of Hope Strider growing up, and making their first delivery. After that it’s a loose selection of legends that are attributed to Hope Strider as they grow older and more accomplished, but while I get that book, I need you to speak to someone.”
Cee led me out of the operating room, and into a comfortable looking lounge where a… Hydrean was sitting in an Imperial business uniform reading an omni-pad. My brain pulled everything I knew of Hydreans out. A rabbit hole I had dug into one rainy Shel on the public information repositories.
She, they, single gendered I reminded myself, looked up and smiled at me calmly, mouth closed for politeness. Their skin was grass green with artful patches of bark on her face and neck, the result of cosmetic scarification. They looked human, or Shil’oid, but that was purposefully done. Even the somewhat standard looking ‘desert walker’ Hydreans normally had more, or less, limbs than standard. Biological modification was at the root of all Hydrean technology, ancient as the stone ax to other species.
I thought about how contentious Hydrean/Shil relationships were said to be. Their arid home planet was off limits to all but certified personnel who had been trained how to handle the dangerous mix of flora/fauna that instead of being different groups, was just a single taxonomy that had no distinction between predator and prey. With their complex biology, a Hydrean needed to undergo extensive body modification just to exist off their home world.
Cee left the room with a friendly goodbye and offered assistance “Hello Klein, I am Ka’tel. It’s wonderful to meet you. I am with the Imperial Child Assistance Division, or ICAD. My job is to help interspecies fosters and adoptions. How are you feeling today?”
I caught a glimpse of her teeth as they spoke. Triangular, and made of burnished metal meant to tear off chunks of animal, plant, or even rock, whole and let their stomachs’ mix of acids dissolve it into something the rest their body could use.
‘The agent in charge of your welfare is a plant/animal hybrid with a diet of ‘yes’, your doctor is a wholesome orange 40K mechanicus, and your crush is a were-lion, you are not ok .’ Squirrel brain remarked.
“I’m actually pretty good, despite the surgery, it’s actually a common issue for humans.” I said to Ka’tel, because my life was weird before the aliens, squirrel brain was just being a pessimistic asshole.
“Really? Do you know what caused it?” Ka’tel asked.
“It just, happens? Gets irritated or infected and then you need to get it removed.” I said nonchalantly. Ka’tel made a mark on her omni-pad.
“How did you know? It seems dangerous if it can happen suddenly, and you mentioned it before you passed out.” Ka’tel asked tone friendly and conversational.
“Oh, the side of your stomach hurts. I was hoping it was just a pulled muscle bec- Dammit!” I just remembered what happened before I woke up here.
“The raid game! Ko’tasa would have had to substitute for me and she’s not well balanced for our team mix.” I said with a exasperated sigh.
Ka’tel cocked their head to one side, but the tone in her voice was humorous. “You were willing to ignore a possible life-threatening condition for a game?”
I explained, though I felt idiotic now. “I couldn’t tell. I get sore muscles all the time from gym, and sparing, and even from the auxiliary work, honestly my commandant doesn’t really know where to put me sometimes. Last week I helped with road clearing for the new town to go up a few [miles] away, and the girls could barely keep up with me.”
Ka’tel seemed to be enjoying my rambling. “Sounds like you really get put to work.”
“Not really? The auxiliary is the only work I do, and if I wanted to stop I just, can. It’s not like I need to worry about buying food.” I knew what I was saying seemed strange while living in the Imperium.
It was the first hint that Ka’tel was controlling her expressions when she seemed more attentive and… relieved? “That’s delightful news to hear! Is there anything about your living situation that bothers you?”
I paused and thought about it, and really couldn’t see anything. “Not really?”
“Anything, or anyone, you miss from Earth?” Ka’tel asked, stressing that last bit, dropping a mental bomb on my head and I froze, mouth partly open with a half formed response. When was the last time I even thought about Earth as more than an abstract concept? It hadn’t been [six months] since I left but…
I didn’t feel anything.
The last year I lived on Earth, it was like being a ghost. I saw people, I even talked to people, but it was like a thick plate of glass all around me. Today I felt color, and life, and things, but that last year on Earth?
Like radio static.
I looked at Ka’tel, and their expression was one of controlled neutrality. Why was I not freaking out?
I had a sensation of the room spinning. I asked, “No, I don’t really feel anything about Earth, is that normal?”
“I don’t know Klein, by most sentient standards what you went through was unusual, and from what little I know about humans that isn’t propaganda, it’s unusual for humans as well. What I do know is right now you seem happy and healthy, and that’s my top priority.” Ka’tel said as they stood and offered me a stiff plastic card with their contact details on it.
“We will be chatting every other week to see how you are adjusting. I might ask to visit you at the youth auxiliary depot, the gym or at home. I really am glad to see you are doing just fine, but if you ever need a way out, that card has an emergency signal function, just pull the plastic tab.” Ka’tel told me, and was about to open the door before I spoke up.
“How should I refer to you?” I asked, and once they realized, Ka’tel gave me a genuine, toothed, smile that was both menacing and goofy at the same time.
“Most people don’t learn enough Hydrean biology to ask. Her, that’s how everyone in the office sees me, and it’s more convenient socially.” She said, opening the door to an anxious looking Itaro standing next to a serious Ruhal and Reqellia.
“I need to speak to you Ruhal, and Reqellia, you should join us for this conversation as well.” Ka’tel said as she ushered me out.
Cee led us into a gaming room with a long table on one side, and a set of couches facing the wall to wall display on the other. She handed me an overloaded plate of cookies with bottle of water, and stepped out, closing the door behind us. “Eat those, your stomach has healed, but it’s going to need calories to fuel the recovery.”
Only then did I realize I was salivating at the smell of warm sugar, and flour made of Kasan grain, if I was identifying the green color correctly. I put the plate of cookies on the table, and snarfed them as I sat down.
After swallowing the fourth cookie semi-whole, I looked up to see Itaro’s face fighting a war between impatient, apprehensive, and hopeful. I stopped, realizing what I was doing, and sipped some water to stall for time.
I was about to pull my omni-pad out from my pockets when Itaro suddenly put her hand out to stop me. “Wait! Klein, I need to tell you something…”
She was silent for a long moment, what was she worried about?
“I… Like you, as, I find you…. Attractive, and I may have gotten a little…. overprotective when you got hurt.” Itaro said, her voice stuttering.
‘Oh, that makes things easy.’ Squirrel brain was for once, right.
“I like you too.” I said as I leaned over and kissed her.

///// Author’s Commentary

Wow! I couldn’t find a good stopping point so I just kept writing and writing and… It turned into something over 5 thousand words. I spent the last day trying to figure out clear up a few parts. This week I have some time off! So there will probably be another chapter sooner rather than later.

A homeless teenager reaches out to the Shil’vati on first day of the invasion of Earth.
This is a rewrite of my original story ‘Loyalist’.
Credit to u/bluefishcake for writing the original SSB story.
Pizzaulostin who has been beta reading since the beginning.
and u/BruhMomentGEE
Credit to u/HollowShel for getting me started with this!
This story is based in the SSB universe.
Previous
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as always, comments are welcome.

Chapter 17:

Thanks to the author of Alien-Nation for editing this chapter!

Ruhal:

“We are sorry about the restraints. Your dossier has a security lock from the Office of Interior that I can’t even read, and all our supervisor could tell us was ‘interview with caution’,” one of the two agents explained.
I regarded my handcuffs with professional disapproval. They had a longer than regular chain for ambulatory movement and inmate processing, by the deep, I could even use them as garrote if needed. They had revealed the limits of their rank with that apology.
“No need to worry. I am sure this will be a formality in less than an hour,” I told them, if there was one thing that was in abundance on the planet Sky it was Interior and undercover commando trainees. I hoped this would probably be their most interesting case all month.
“So, would you care to explain how you are raising a human, that is also considered a military asset?” The agent inquired as she pulled out her slate.
“Of course, Klein surrendered himself and requested medical aid and refugee status. He was willing to answer essential questions regarding human culture that aided in liberating humanity into the Shil’vati Empire. He wouldn’t be safe on Earth anymore, and I mentioned that he was still important in writing my reports. If I had my slate, I could give you the relevant documentation,” I said in a conversational tone, without any of the emotions that weighed the story, and glossing over the specifics.
“No need. I have everything you submitted to the Interior, including his asset designation, the interrogation transcripts, and even his doctor’s contact info. To be honest with you it’s the only reason we haven’t interviewed you yet, even after a dozen calls about a ‘possible trafficked human’ since he arrived. Your information is corroborated with several other departments. The issue now is what the medivac scans found.” The agent pushed a slate towards me with medical notes bolded for emphasis ‘probable severe abuse’.
“The report shows a recent history of blunt force trauma, abrasions, and even muscle tearing, in short. It looks like the human has been systematically tortured for months. You also have recently requested restricted training armor in the human’s size.” The agent explained.
Ah, that was my mistake. I had been treating Klein as another child, just with some unique needs. It looks like there were other considerations, ones that I failed to see.
“I really do need my omni-slate to illustrate this, it’s on my desk right now if one of your assistants could get it?” I asked, hoping they got the suggestion to not leave me with only one interrogator in the room so they wouldn’t be graded too harshly.
They thankfully acquiesced without comment, and with my omni-slate in hand I pulled up the latest video of Klein practicing with me, the speed and brutality was difficult for me to sit through. Then, Klein pulled off his helmet seconds later, laughing in the rain. Unconcerned that, without armor, we could have just killed each other- I was grateful he had, else it might’ve been interpreted quite differently. “The bruising mostly from everyday participation at a Rakiri gym, and some remnants from before I got proper gear for baton practice. He heals extremely fast, and more so, he isn’t happy unless he exercises for at least an hour or two a day.”
I pulled up another video. Klein was sitting at the table bouncing his leg at an ever-increasing pace while trying to focus on a decently complex equation. He finally stood up and started pacing mouthing words as he skipped in time to an unheard rhythm.
“W-what’s he doing?” The agent asked, looking just a tad disturbed by the display of what seemed erratic behavior.
“A sort of dance while playing the song ‘a fine mesh net’ on his headphones. There was a monsoon that Shel weekend, and even I’m not crazy enough to fight in a thunderstorm like that. He does that around the house for an hour, and then finally settles in on a video game,” I explained to the agents, who were looking at me dubiously.
“So, you oversee an adolescent who is an intelligence asset, but also seems poorly fitted for Shil’vati life. Why the baton practice? Wouldn’t that make him even more dangerous, more of an outsider? Are you trying to sabotage his integration? Why not take him shopping, instead, or teach him beauty and self-care routines?” They were antagonizing. Countering every argument to see how I reacted. It seemed they could at least interrogate decently well.
“I hardly call a few quirks ‘poor fitting’. The baton practice is for obvious self-defense. Its intention is to make him dangerous,” I explained, letting the interviewers lead the conversation.
The back and forth went on for a while, but I presented a highlight reel of the last few months. Including a Rakiri gym video when Klein tried to flourish a wall climb and smashed his shoulder on the ledge while face planting into the mud.
The agents would not be arresting me today. They would need medical reports, and would require Klein, Hario, and Compassion Through Deeds to attest while truth scanned that these were sports injuries, and not some conspiracy to commit torture. We were also going to need to see an ICAD agent every two weeks for counseling. I had no idea what ICAD was, but I would investigate them later.
Finally, the agents appeared they were closing up the interview. I tried not to brace myself as they asked the complicated question. “One thing we need to know is, what is Klein to you? If he is just a crucial asset, then why haven’t you contacted a local volunteer family foster? Or was the military asset just a cover to find a male heir?”
I sighed, the truth wasn’t incriminating, but if I didn’t word it right, I would look like the worst sort of military tourist. “I had, originally, taken care of Klein as a key intelligence asset. Within that first week though, I had found that despite the decades of preparation, there wasn’t a process for someone to claim asylum as a child during first contact. He would be in military bureaucratic limbo without an advocate. We both know where he would end up.”
The room cooled by several degrees, which was a pity, I almost got the talkative agent to laugh at Klein’s antics. “Out of duty I investigated ways I could bring him home until I could find resources to place him in a stable situation with all the resources to help a xeno without a community. I found someone who was willing to help in exchange for reports on Klein’s adaptation to Shil’vati lifestyle. That’s Klein’s purpose as a military asset in my home.”
I continued. I was saying more on than I needed to, but if they did a follow up investigation later for some other incident, which was a when, not if, then I wanted this on record. “Klein has become part of this household though, despite, or maybe because, of his oddities. He may not be Shil’vati, but he seems to have integrated well. It’s why, while it was never my intention, when he is an adult, I will offer him full adoption, and title of home guardian.”
I watched the agents exchange looks, then the agent made a few taps on her slate. ‘Upper left, middle center, probably a message app’. I then listened for the telltale taps of a yes as a micro expression of a self-satisfied smile crossed the agent’s face. I decided to stop playing interviewee.
“So, you won the bet on if I would claim the human as my son, how long has that pool been building?” I asked folding my hands together.
The agent answered before she could think. “Two months… Wait!? How did you-”
The agent was cut off by the squawk of the slate’s speaker. “Agents you did well enough with the interview portion, however; you absolutely failed to secure the subject. Could you please illustrate to them why I stressed caution {petal of death’s veil}?”
The code name wasn’t one I had heard in decades, but I wasn’t going to snub an old handler. I kicked on my fast reaction mods to max speed and lunged over the table past the still sitting agents. I pirouetted and twisted the restraints into a loop as I brought them down over the left agent’s head and pulled back carefully, lightly touching the chain of my restraints around the neck of the agent before she could even react.
I kicked off my mods and caught my breath as time returned to normal. Both agents’ eyes went wide with shock as the one not about to be strangled tried to get away to pull out her weapon. “W-who are you!?”
“I’m going to slowly release you and put my hands up, is that everything you needed {hated old friend}?” I directed my question to the slate, using the code High Shil word to show I was playing along.
“More than enough. Agent! Holster your weapon and come back to the safe room. We need to go over security procedures,” the slate responded, and the very brief confrontation was over.
The agents walked out, and Siltan stomped in looking like she could bring about a thunderstorm by pure force of will. “We weren’t the only ones to get visits from the ‘majesty’s’ Interior today. Cee let me know that the Interior is also interrogated Reqellia as well.”
I now understood why these two rookies were here. It was a distraction for me. I grumbled as I picked up my slate and called Reqellia. Her face appeared a second later.
“By the Deep, it’s been a long day,” Reqellia breathed out as I heard a door slam, then she cursed some more.
“Tell me everything. Is Klein ok?” I asked.
“Cee says he’s fine and is waking him up. Klein might be getting a mod himself before she closes him up though because, oh- looks like it’s my day is going to get longer still. ICAD is here, and it’s a Hydrean in a Gearschilde clinic.” Reqellia hung up, and I stared at the phone in confusion.
It was time to find out what ICAD was.

Klein:

I blearily came to, as high powered, piercing white light flooded my half open eyes. I tried to move my arm to shield my face and found I couldn’t. Actually, I couldn't move or even feel anything from the neck down.
I started to panic as I turned my head, focusing on lettering on a terminal, tried to sigh, and felt what few muscles I could control turn to lead as I sank back on the medical bed. Thank the goddess, it was Shil and Gearschilde lettering on the slate and medical supplies.
“Good afternoon Klein, are you okay? Your heart rate spiked.” I heard Cee, or full name Compassion Through Deeds, speak and turned my head to see her. She wore a dark red lab coat and regarded me with unblinking cybernetic eyes. Most of her orange skin had been replaced with dark steel etched with stylized waves and swirls of silver. Her face still emoted in a pleasant smile, but had that uncanny valley look of unblemished synth skin. I looked down to see a dozen micro surgical tools still inside me.
I should have been screaming at the sight, but all I felt was relief and joy. “Yeah, I just worried for a half second that I had hallucinated the last few months and was actually on a back on Earth on some black-market operating table getting my kidney stolen.”
Cee was aghast. “Does that happen on Earth?”
I would shrug, but again, I couldn’t move, instead I responded. “Rumors of it happening, but I never knew anyone personally.”
Cee reassured me. “Well, good news Klein, you are on Sky, you are in a Gearschilde clinic where stealing vital organs is a legal, moral and religious crime of unrepentant severity. What I have done is remove your appendix, and let the sedatives wear off so we can discuss what you want in its place.”
“In place of my appendix? Why?” I asked, it wasn’t like I really needed the vestigial organ turn internal hand grenade.
“Customary in Gearschilde for surgery is to be about giving a better life than just taking from the body. So, any ideas of what would make your life better?”
I thought about the bruising, the constant having to put healing patches on, and the annoyance of doing so. I thought about the near fatality of almost blowing my appendix, and if something could have fixed the issue before it got out of hand. “What about a healing dispenser? I keep having to put on patches and gel at the end of the day, and if I miss a spot, I will pay for it later.”
Cee gave me a grateful expression. “That’s a perfect first implant. I was worried you were going to ask for something more aggressive. When I was your age, I got my first defensive mod, a retractable forearm knife. Of course, my next surgery was being stitched back together after accidently stabbing myself with it.”
I tried to chuckle, but I didn’t have control of my diaphragm for it. “So, what’s next?”
Cee explained. “Well, the fabricator in the other room is right now creating your implant. It shouldn’t take long; are you ok being immobilized for the next hour or so?”
I thought about it, and honestly, I was still surprised I wasn’t panicking. “No, but I’m going to get really bored just laying here, do the Gearschilde have any good myths or stories?”
I knew I was fishing in an untapped pool that was guaranteed to have something. I wasn’t expecting my doctor to be gleeful at the thought though. “Oh blessed be you child, I am a surgeon priest, half the reason I am in this vocation is to tell stories. I take it you know nothing about Gearschilde mythology, or even our history?”
It was on my list of rabbit holes to get into, but instead I binged the rest of Prince Of The Stars and cried, it was nice. “No, but I would love to hear them.”
“Well if you want to, every Shel we have open services and brunch. But since you are new to Gearschilde mythology we should start with one of my favorites. The story of the Hopestrider.”
The ceiling lights dimmed, and the sterile operating room felt surprisingly cozy as I leaned my head back. Listening to Cee starting up the tale. “Our sect requires us to lead what can best be called ‘child technician classes’. Learning to take care of machines, which includes us by the start of adolescence, if not before. It’s a critical life skill, and teaching it is considered an important part of our religious studies.”
‘Cyberpunk VeggieTales’ Squirrel brain chittered.
No one wants your opinion squirrel brain. I thought back.

Cee’s story: Hope Strider

“Long ago our world was full of harsh life. The valleys were often filled with poisonous mists and deadly predators that could rip apart even the strongest of our people. The mountain kingdoms were brutal fiefdoms that sent many to their deaths mining precious metals from the dangerous wastes of the valleys. Drilling into the heart of the mountains provided the power necessary to purify water, and later, steam engines turned those fiefdoms into empires. Expanding into the wastes using the lowest class of people as its foundation.”
Cee paused for dramatic effect. “Then, everything changed.”
“The ground shook, and the mountain kingdoms erupted in fire and molten rock. Radioactive dust from these now volcanoes made the centers of civilization barren and deadly. Only the wasteland colonies in the poisonous mists provided any refuge, and so king and commoner alike huddled in the once disposable outposts of a ruined world. Our story starts a generation after the calamity with an unlucky child.”
I heard a ding, Cee stopped as the ceiling lights came up. “Oh dear, let me stop for a second to get the implant.”
I leaned back and thought about her nightmare world. When Cee returned, I didn’t even bother to open my eyes, too engrossed in the imagery of the story. “What happened to the child?”
I could hear the whirring as she started to work. Her voice I realized had taken a more scripted cadence. She must have automated her voice so she could focus. “In a metalworker’s home, a child was born with broken legs and brittle bones. It was common in those days for such a child to die that way. It was their first born and the parents did everything they could to save them. A surgeon was called. The child lost their legs, but kept their life.”
“The child lived in the workshop. Kept warm by the hearth’s fire, even unable to walk, they were curious. Day in and out, they watched their parents construct machines that helped the community make food, filter the air, and defend the homes from the starving, mutated, monsters that circled the fortress walls. The child felt helpless though. Only able to crawl within the confines of the home or be carried around like cargo about the maze-like town of winding stairs and narrow passageways.
“They spent much of their time learning, sitting near the hearth to keep warm, they did the careful work of filing gears and wheels needed to control what could be automated as each hand replaced was another that could be spent doing something else critical to keep the community alive. Still, the child wanted to do more. They could not deliver what they made, and had to rely on others to help them at every turn in life.”
“Little did the child know that in the hearth a machine spirit lived, getting by eating scrap metal that fell in and sleeping at night on the bed of embers. The machine spirit saw the child’s wish, an invention without form, and turned it into a dream for the child, since new machines would mean new machine spirits to play with.”
That night the child saw themselves flying over the cold gray landscape on a pair of machine legs. Traveling the dangerous paths to other towns, and giving the isolated towns hope and community. The child awoke with joy and crawled over to his workbench littered with scrap metal, now children….”
Cee stopped talking and her voice went back to an unscripted rhythm. “I just realized we can’t do the practical part of this story. In class each kid gets a hope strider stuffy with snaps to attach legs they make. We give them bits of copper. Show them how to bend and hammer it, and how to bond it by wrapping the joint in solder and then applying heat with a soldering iron heated in their own toy ‘hearth’ with a safety cover. Still we get a daily small burn or cut, but that in itself is a valuable lesson in tool safety.”
It sounded adorable in a weird, steampunk way. “Sounds fun, so, new legs?”
Cee got the que, as much as I loved the story, and the talk about kindergarten metal shop, I was still immobilized on the operating table. I heard surgical whirring, and the scripted voice came back. “Yes, the child works all night until they fit the new legs on, and for the first time stand up on their own! The parents are overjoyed as they watch them move about the house and that afternoon, with the help of an iron bar as a cane, they walk around their community by themselves.”
“However, it isn’t long before the legs start to see wear and tear, but the child persists, not wanting to stop and fix the creaking joints, until one day the legs stop working altogether and they fall down in a twisting staircase. Carried back to the workshop, they rest for days to heal before they are able to work again. Constructing a new set from the remains of the old. Now…”

Klein:

Cee stopped again, but this time she had moved away from me and was putting the now bloody surgical tools into a sanitizing system. “We're done! I am going to start removing the nerve blocks, so you’re going to be sore, but if things get too painful, let me know. Please, try not to move anything but your hands right now, even then I would advise against it.”
My whole body had that pins and needles feel and I tried to move my fingers, but it was sporadic and jerky. Cee distracted me by explaining my new implant. “So, this implant is very basic. It can only be requested to send diagnostic data. The implant only administers more healing serum at a safe, steady rate if, and only if, it doesn’t detect any in your bloodstream. There is an injection site with a color change circle around it. It uses standard go, caution, stop colors to let you know if it’s functioning. I want to wave your omni-pad over the site and check the diagnostics at least once a day. It should hopefully catch if something like this is happening again.”
I tried to not move as I felt my body twitch. My gut felt like I had been run over, repeatedly. I asked, “why didn’t my medical monitoring implant catch this?”
Cee explained. “That’s only good for basic vitals. Near universal indicators of life and activity such as heart rate and blood pressure. The new implant will be able to scan for elevated protein counts. So, if one of your other internal organs starts to malfunction you can get a more unambiguous message that I hope you won’t ignore before getting medivac’d through the city.”
I chuckled a little at that, and it hurt. “Ow, ok, no movement. I thought it was just a pulled muscle or something.”
Cee looked down at me sternly, and her voice took on a deeper, more authoritative tone. “Child, more than enough Gearschilde have died thinking they can just, push themselves past their organic parts failing, if you have a torn muscle that hurts after you’ve used healing gel, then it’s serious enough you need to come see me, or another xeno-doctor, immediately. That’s why I hope your new implant can fix things before it gets to that point.”
Cee brightened after that and went back to the explanation of my implant. “Now that I scolded you, there is a color changing circle over your implant’s location. It will change color when the healing serum runs low, or and will start to flash in color, and try to ping your omni-pad if it detects a malfunction. The implant uses a standard Shil’ implant autoinjector, and it will reject anything not meant for red blood standard biology, but still be careful, it’s not a perfect filtering system. Today I’m giving you a set of autoinjectors I want you to use throughout the week. It's fortunate that your implant’s primary function will speed up your recovery time.”
Ok, that’s cool to know, but.
‘What happened to Hopestrider?!’ Squirrel brain demanded.
“So, the story, what happens next?” I asked as Cee helped me sit up. My stomach still hurt, but the feeling was in the overworked muscle category rather than a gut punch.
Cee started to explain as I put on what was essentially gym clothes. Soft, baggy pants and shirt with easy pull away tabs if they needed to remove the clothes quickly for checkups and surgical intervention. “Well, we don’t have time to go over the Hope Strider as a story, or even a summary, but if you want to, my husband teaches the child technician class during open services on Shel, you could sit in and listen.
Right now, I will give you a family crafted picture book that tells the core story of Hope Strider growing up, and making their first delivery. After that it’s a loose selection of legends that are attributed to Hope Strider as they grow older and more accomplished, but while I get that book, I need you to speak to someone.”
Cee led me out of the operating room, and into a comfortable looking lounge where a… Hydrean was sitting in an Imperial business uniform reading an omni-pad. My brain pulled everything I knew of Hydreans out. A rabbit hole I had dug into one rainy Shel on the public information repositories.
She, they, single gendered I reminded myself, looked up and smiled at me calmly, mouth closed for politeness. Their skin was grass green with artful patches of bark on her face and neck, the result of cosmetic scarification. They looked human, or Shil’oid, but that was purposefully done. Even the somewhat standard looking ‘desert walker’ Hydreans normally had more, or less, limbs than standard. Biological modification was at the root of all Hydrean technology, ancient as the stone ax to other species.
I thought about how contentious Hydrean/Shil relationships were said to be. Their arid home planet was off limits to all but certified personnel who had been trained how to handle the dangerous mix of flora/fauna that instead of being different groups, was just a single taxonomy that had no distinction between predator and prey. With their complex biology, a Hydrean needed to undergo extensive body modification just to exist off their home world.
Cee left the room with a friendly goodbye and offered assistance “Hello Klein, I am Ka’tel. It’s wonderful to meet you. I am with the Imperial Child Assistance Division, or ICAD. My job is to help interspecies fosters and adoptions. How are you feeling today?”
I caught a glimpse of her teeth as they spoke. Triangular, and made of burnished metal meant to tear off chunks of animal, plant, or even rock, whole and let their stomachs’ mix of acids dissolve it into something the rest their body could use.
‘The agent in charge of your welfare is a plant/animal hybrid with a diet of ‘yes’, your doctor is a wholesome orange 40K mechanicus, and your crush is a were-lion, you are not ok .’ Squirrel brain remarked.
“I’m actually pretty good, despite the surgery, it’s actually a common issue for humans.” I said to Ka’tel, because my life was weird before the aliens, squirrel brain was just being a pessimistic asshole.
“Really? Do you know what caused it?” Ka’tel asked.
“It just, happens? Gets irritated or infected and then you need to get it removed.” I said nonchalantly. Ka’tel made a mark on her omni-pad.
“How did you know? It seems dangerous if it can happen suddenly, and you mentioned it before you passed out.” Ka’tel asked tone friendly and conversational.
“Oh, the side of your stomach hurts. I was hoping it was just a pulled muscle bec- Dammit!” I just remembered what happened before I woke up here.
“The raid game! Ko’tasa would have had to substitute for me and she’s not well balanced for our team mix.” I said with a exasperated sigh.
Ka’tel cocked their head to one side, but the tone in her voice was humorous. “You were willing to ignore a possible life-threatening condition for a game?”
I explained, though I felt idiotic now. “I couldn’t tell. I get sore muscles all the time from gym, and sparing, and even from the auxiliary work, honestly my commandant doesn’t really know where to put me sometimes. Last week I helped with road clearing for the new town to go up a few [miles] away, and the girls could barely keep up with me.”
Ka’tel seemed to be enjoying my rambling. “Sounds like you really get put to work.”
“Not really? The auxiliary is the only work I do, and if I wanted to stop I just, can. It’s not like I need to worry about buying food.” I knew what I was saying seemed strange while living in the Imperium.
It was the first hint that Ka’tel was controlling her expressions when she seemed more attentive and… relieved? “That’s delightful news to hear! Is there anything about your living situation that bothers you?”
I paused and thought about it, and really couldn’t see anything. “Not really?”
“Anything, or anyone, you miss from Earth?” Ka’tel asked, stressing that last bit, dropping a mental bomb on my head and I froze, mouth partly open with a half formed response. When was the last time I even thought about Earth as more than an abstract concept? It hadn’t been [six months] since I left but…
I didn’t feel anything.
The last year I lived on Earth, it was like being a ghost. I saw people, I even talked to people, but it was like a thick plate of glass all around me. Today I felt color, and life, and things, but that last year on Earth?
Like radio static.
I looked at Ka’tel, and their expression was one of controlled neutrality. Why was I not freaking out?
I had a sensation of the room spinning. I asked, “No, I don’t really feel anything about Earth, is that normal?”
“I don’t know Klein, by most sentient standards what you went through was unusual, and from what little I know about humans that isn’t propaganda, it’s unusual for humans as well. What I do know is right now you seem happy and healthy, and that’s my top priority.” Ka’tel said as they stood and offered me a stiff plastic card with their contact details on it.
“We will be chatting every other week to see how you are adjusting. I might ask to visit you at the youth auxiliary depot, the gym or at home. I really am glad to see you are doing just fine, but if you ever need a way out, that card has an emergency signal function, just pull the plastic tab.” Ka’tel told me, and was about to open the door before I spoke up.
“How should I refer to you?” I asked, and once they realized, Ka’tel gave me a genuine, toothed, smile that was both menacing and goofy at the same time.
“Most people don’t learn enough Hydrean biology to ask. Her, that’s how everyone in the office sees me, and it’s more convenient socially.” She said, opening the door to an anxious looking Itaro standing next to a serious Ruhal and Reqellia.
“I need to speak to you Ruhal, and Reqellia, you should join us for this conversation as well.” Ka’tel said as she ushered me out.
Cee led us into a gaming room with a long table on one side, and a set of couches facing the wall to wall display on the other. She handed me an overloaded plate of cookies with bottle of water, and stepped out, closing the door behind us. “Eat those, your stomach has healed, but it’s going to need calories to fuel the recovery.”
Only then did I realize I was salivating at the smell of warm sugar, and flour made of Kasan grain, if I was identifying the green color correctly. I put the plate of cookies on the table, and snarfed them as I sat down.
After swallowing the fourth cookie semi-whole, I looked up to see Itaro’s face fighting a war between impatient, apprehensive, and hopeful. I stopped, realizing what I was doing, and sipped some water to stall for time.
I was about to pull my omni-pad out from my pockets when Itaro suddenly put her hand out to stop me. “Wait! Klein, I need to tell you something…”
She was silent for a long moment, what was she worried about?
“I… Like you, as, I find you…. Attractive, and I may have gotten a little…. overprotective when you got hurt.” Itaro said, her voice stuttering.
‘Oh, that makes things easy.’ Squirrel brain was for once, right.
“I like you too.” I said as I leaned over and kissed her.

///// Author’s Commentary

Wow! I couldn’t find a good stopping point so I just kept writing and writing and… It turned into something over 5 thousand words. I spent the last day trying to figure out clear up a few parts. This week I have some time off! So there will probably be another chapter sooner rather than later.

It's another big weekend of local fun in Blacksburg, at Virginia Tech and throughout the New River Valley with over 65 events. However will have to keep our fingers crossed the weather cooperates on Saturday for any of the outdoor events (some for tonight & tomorrow are already cancelled or postponed including this weekend's top 15 softball match-up).
The Hokie Women's Basketball will have most of the attention tonight and hopefully on Sunday afternoon, though I have included a few late Friday events for those that are interested.
Here's the Weekend Rundown: 1. Performance with Rissi Palmer Moss Arts Center at Virginia Tech, Blacksburg Friday, March 31, 2023, 8:00 - 10:00 PM General Admission: $15.00, Students with ID and Youth 18 and Under: $10.00 Rissi Palmer's 2017 twangy mid-tempo anthem, "Country Girl", made her the first Black woman to grace Billboard’s Hot Country charts in over 30 years. Rissi Palmer's gift lies in reaching across all musical boundaries. While Palmer made her mark in country music, she is equally at home in R&B music, bringing the entire spectrum of popular music to bear on music she calls "Southern soul". Raised in a musical family that loved both country and R&B, she was a part of a singing and dancing troupe sponsored by a local television station at age 16, and by the time she was 19 years old, she had already been offered her first publishing and label deal. A few highlights throughout Palmer’s musical career include performances at the White House, New York's Lincoln Center, and multiple appearances on the Grand Ole Opry stage. She has toured extensively across the country, sharing stages with Taylor Swift, The Eagles, Chris Young, Charley Crockett, and many more. She has also made numerous national appearances on Oprah and Friends, CMT Insider, CNN, CBS This Morning, Good Morning America to name a few. Palmer is also a special correspondent for CMT's Hot 20 Countdown, featuring chart-topping music videos, news stories, live performances, and candid interviews from country’s biggest stars. This performance is part of "Up 86," a trio of spring performances is the culmination of a new collaboration between the Moss Arts Center and North Carolina artist Shirlette Ammons, who is serving as the center’s first independent guest performing arts curator. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=679928
2. College Baseball: UVA vs. Virginia Tech English Field, Virginia Tech Friday, March 31, 2023, 8:00 PM, Saturday, April 1, 2023, 7:00 PM, Sunday, April 2, 2023, 1:00 PM Adults: $10.00 Youth Ages 6-18: $5.00 Youth Ages 5 & Under: Free Watch the Virginia Tech Baseball Team compete against ACC conference and in-state rival the University of Virginia in a three-game series. Gates and ticket booths at English Field will open 90 minutes before first pitch on gamedays. Fans accessing English Field on gameday are encouraged to use free parking in Lot 16 ("The Cage"), located northwest of the stadium along Duck Pond Drive. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=685268
3. Phlegar Hill in Concert Bull & Bones Brewhaus & Grill, Blacksburg Friday, March 31, 2023, 9:00 - 11:45 PM Admission: Free The Phlegar Hill band plays a variety of music and crosses many genres and is based in Floyd, VA. NOTE: Due to Virginia Tech Women's Basketball playing in the Final Four on Friday at 7:00 PM, the concert will start after the game. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=686142
4. 2023 Annual Bob and Sue Duncan Memorial 5K Virginia Tech Cross Country Course, Blacksburg Saturday, April 1, 2023, 9:00 AM - 1:00 PM Participants Ages 13 & Up: $25.00, Participants Ages 12 & Under: $10.00, College Students: $20.00, Canines: $5.00 The Virginia-Maryland College of Veterinary Medicine (VMCVM) and the VMCVM Student Chapter of the American College Of Veterinary Pathologists present the 16th Annual Bob and Sue Duncan Memorial 5K to honor Bob Duncan, a beloved veterinary college professor who passed away in May of 2007 and his wife who passed away this past October. Both walkers and runners are welcome. Leashed dogs are welcome too with a proof of rabies vaccination and signed waiver required. Following the 5k, participants can enjoy raffles, music, freebies, lawn games and food trucks at the Veterinary Medicine Instruction Addition. The entire run will be on the Virginia Tech Cross Country Course. Water will be available at the finish and at the halfway marker. T-shirts are guaranteed for those who register by March 24th. For those who register after, shirts will be available on a first come, first serve basis. All profits from the race benefit the Bob Duncan Memorial Diagnostic Veterinary Pathology Scholarship which awards a fourth-year veterinary student for a commitment and zeal for diagnostic veterinary pathology. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=685940
5. 2023 NRV Home Expo Christiansburg Recreation Center, Christiansburg Saturday, April 1, 2023, 9:00 AM - 5:00 PM and Sunday, April 2, 2023, 12:00 - 5:00 PM Early Bird Tickets: $5.00, Day Of Tickets: $7.00, Children under 18: Free when accompanied by paying adult The New River Valley Home Builders Association has put all your home care needs into one convenient location. This is the place to be if you are looking to: Build a new home, Remodel your current home, Find your mortgage lender, Meet service providers to help you with your current project list and more. The floor will be full of local, trusted professionals who are available to answer your home care questions, provide you reliable resources and quick quotes, as well as show you samples of their skills and services. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=680019
6. 2023 Spring Craft Show Auburn High School, Riner Saturday, April 1, 2023, 9:00 AM - 2:00 PM Admission: Free The Riner Volunteer Fire Department Ladies Auxiliary presents their 5th Annual Spring Craft Show. Find unique gifts for that special someone or something for yourself. Vendors include wood working, crocheting, sewing, essential oils, jewelry, glass work, wreaths, food, direct sales and more. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=684665
7. Historic Smithield Opening Day 2023 Historic Smithfield, Blacksburg Saturday, April 1, 2023, 10:00 AM - 3:00 PM Adults: $8.00, AAA, Military, Seniors (55+): $7.00, Virginia Tech Students: $5.00, Children (Over 12): $5.00 Kids (6-12): $3.00, Kids (5 & Under): Free Join Historic Smithfield to welcome the first day of their 2023 Visit Season. Tour the Manor House, site and outbuildings, engage with our knowledgeable interpreters. Onsite you can watch blacksmithing demos and living history presentations. Join them for a presentation at 11:00 AM from author Heather Cole and her book "At Home with the Virginia Presidents". The book is an engaging armchair travel talk about the eight Virginia-born presidents and the sites that shaped their lives. Attendees will learn a bit about the presidents’ lives, take a peek inside their homes and get ideas for their next history road trip. Heather Cole's book will be available for purchase in the Museum Store. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=685719
8. 2023 Easter Egg Hunt for All Ages The Crafter's Corner, Christiansburg Saturday, April 1, 2023, 10:00 AM - 4:00 PM Admission: Free The Crafter's Corner presents their 1st Annual Easter Egg Hunt. Eggs will be hidden all throughout the store for anyone to try to find. And, make time to meet the Yzma-Bunny and take a picture with her. This event is for all ages, but some eggs will be more difficult to find. The event will go on all day until eggs run out so this is first come, first serve event. Eggs will contain different things such as candy, small free items, discounts and there will be one Grand Prize Egg. No purchase necessary, however if you find a discount egg you might want to use it. Countryman Jamaican Grill food truck will be onsite for food sales from 10:00 AM - 1:00 PM so bring your appetite. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=686152
9. Yoga on Tap Long Way Brewing, Radford Saturday, April 1, 2023, 11:00 AM - 12:00 PM Admission: $15.00 Join Big Body Yoga at Long Way Brewing for no-experience-necessary yoga classes every other Saturday on Long Way's outdoor patio. Expect an upbeat playlist, laid back atmosphere and all-levels yoga class followed by a fresh cold beer. A ticket to the event covers the yoga class and your beer after. Be sure to pre-register for each class you plan to attend. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=684784
10. College Softball: #13 Duke vs. #12 Virginia Tech Tech Softball Park, Virginia Tech Saturday, April 1, 2023, 12:00 PM, Sunday, April 2, 2023, 12:00 PM and 2:00 PM (Doubleheader) Admission: Free Watch the #12 Virginia Tech Softball team compete against ACC conference opponent #13 Duke in a top 15 match-up and three game series. No tickets are required for Hokie Softball games. Parking is available behind the outfield at Tech Softball Park and enter along the right field side of the stadium. Stands open one hour prior to the start of the game. UPDATE: Due to the inclement weather, the three game series schedule has been updated from the original schedule. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=685862
11. JH Bards 2nd Anniversary Celebration J.H Bards Spirit Co., Radford Saturday, April 1, 2023, 12:00 - 8:00 PM Admission: Free Enjoy the release of their Spring Cocktail Menu from noon until 8:00 PM with the Bluegrass BBQ Food Truck serving from 1:00 PM until 7:00 PM. And, Jen Bertiaux will be hosting their first ever no covers Open Mike from 4:30 PM until 6:30 PM. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=685906
12. 2023 Mercedes Cup: UVA vs Virginia Tech Polo Match Alphin-Stuart Arena, Virginia Tech Saturday, April 1, 2023, 12:00 - 5:00 PM Admission: $5.00 The Polo Club at Virginia Tech presents the Annual Mercedes Cup featuring a polo match with Virginia Tech hosting the University of Virginia. After a three year hiatus, the Mercedes Cup is back in-person. There will also be a wine tasting, food served by Block & Bridle, a silent auction (ending at 4:00 PM), vendors and fun halftime events. All are welcome. All profits goes towards care for the Club's horses and the equipment to play. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=686156
13. Free Drive-Thru Lunch with Grilled Cheese and Homemade Vegetable Soup Park United Methodist Church, Christiansburg Saturday, April 1, 2023, 12:00 - 2:00 PM Admission: Free Enjoy a homemade lunch consisting of Vegetable Soup, Grilled Cheese Sandwich and Dessert which will be prepared and packaged for carry-out and delivered to you in your vehicle while supplies last. There is no charge, however donations will be graciously be accepted for local neighborhood missions. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=696157
14. Above The Fray and Triquetra in Concert Buffalo Mountain Brewery, Floyd Saturday, April 1, 2023, 1:00 - 4:00 PM (Above The Fray) and 6:00 - 9:00 PM (Triquetra) Admission: Free Enjoy two concerts on Saturday. Above The Fray is a Virginia band that performs blues, old rock and Americana. Triquetra Band is a new take on a classic jazz ensemble featuring multi-passionate, multi-instrumentalists with a strong penchant for music that moves the listener both gracefully and intelligently. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=685836
15. Mike Gangloff, Solar Hex, Gina & Jason Dilg in Concert Rising Silo Farm Brewery, Blacksburg Saturday, April 1, 2023, 6:00 - 9:00 PM Admission: Free Fiddlers Mike Gangloff and Gina Dilg, cellist Kaily Schenker (Solar Hex) and Banjoist Jason Dilg present an evening of music traditional and less so. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=684806
16. Wayne Henderson & Friends in Concert Floyd Country Store, Floyd Saturday, April 1, 2023, 7:00 - 10:00 PM General Admission: $25.00, Reserved Seating: $30.00 Wayne Henderson is a musical legend known worldwide for both his lightening fast "pinch picking" guitar style and the beautiful guitars, mandolins, and banjos he crafts in his shop in Rugby, Virginia. His guitar playing has also been enjoyed at Carnegie Hall, in three national tours of Masters of the Steel-String Guitar, and in seven nations in Asia. In addition to his reputation as a guitarist, Henderson is a luthier of great renown. He is a recipient of a 1995 National Heritage Award presented by the National Endowment for the Arts. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=685929
17. Lucy the Spy and Tripolar Express in Concert XYZ Art Gallery, Blacksburg Saturday, April 1, 2023, 7:00 - 10:00 PM Admission: $5.00 XYZ Art Gallery presents a concert with Tripolar Express opening for Lucy the Spy. Lucy the Spy is an indie rock band from Roanoke, VA. Tripolar Express is a garage rock and grunge band based in Blacksburg, VA. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=696148
18. Naturally Sharp Spring Concert: Natman, The Sharp Knight Rises Haymarket Theater (Squires Student Center), Virginia Tech Saturday, April 1, 2023, 7:00 - 8:30 PM Preorder Tickets: $7.00, At the Door: $10.00 Naturally Sharp presents their Spring Concert titled "Natman, The Sharp Knight Rises". Join the caped crusader, the boy wonder, and Virginia Tech's best dressed a cappella group as they tackle the greatest supervillains of all time. Founded in 2002, Naturally Sharp is Virginia Tech's premiere all male a cappella group. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=686155
19. Brad Heller and The Fustics Camp Culture in Concert Dogtown Roadhouse, Floyd Saturday, April 1, 2023, 8:00 - 11:00 PM Admission: $8.00 Hailing from Wilmington, North Carolina, The Fustics continue to expand their audience throughout the East Coast with spirited live shows, and acclaimed studio releases. Blending an array of musical genres into their own distinctive style, the band has evolved from humble acoustic beginnings to a high-energy touring outfit. Incorporating a slab of blues, gallons of folk, a pint of punk, and a hint of country within their blue-collar rock, The Fustics have increased their base through radio, the internet, print media, and a heavy touring schedule. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=686150
20. 2023 Sinkland Farms Easter Eggs-Travaganza Sinkland Farms, Riner Sunday, April 2, 2023, 11:00 AM - 5:00 PM General Public: $10.00 Seniors, Military & First Responders: $9.00, Babies 23 months and Under: Free UPDATE: Due to the weather forecast of rain and high-gusty winds, Sinkland will not open on Saturday as planned and just open on Sunday. Sinkland Farms presents their first Easter Eggs-Travaganza with Easter Egg Hunts for ages 2-10 groups by age starting at noon and visit from the Easter Bunny. Enjoy baby farm animals, Kidz-Zone playground, special kid’s activities, and face painting. Join the Music Sing-along with musician Leslie Brooks (performing at 1:30 PM and 3:00 PM daily), Kid’s Karaoke, and Story Time at 11:30 AM! Dress-up for the Princess and Superhero Parade at 2:30 PM with prizes. Parents can listen to music, explore Arts & Crafts vendors, enjoy beer, wine, food trucks and more. Remember to bring your baskets. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=685257
21. Sip-N-Stitch: Italy Blacksburg Wine Lab, Blacksburg Sunday, April 2, 2023, 1:00 - 3:00 PM Admission: $35.00 Blacksburg Wine Lab continues their Sip-N-Stitch series featuring Italy. Your ticket includes a tasting of three Italian Wines, a selection of house made dips with crackers & pita to snack on and a yarn tasting featuring Italian Yarn, along with several pattern suggestions for knit and crochet from New River Art & Fiber. Bring your work in progress and enjoy great company while trying new wines. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=685386
22. Virginia Vineyard Month JBR Vineyards LLC, Pearisburg Sunday, April 2, 2023, 1:00 - 5:00 PM Admission: Free Wine Tasting: $5.00, Glasses of Wine: $5.00, Bottles Range from $10.00-$25.00 Start Virginia Vineyard month by tasting wines rarely grown in Virginia with our Pinot Noir and Riesling. Picnics, kids, and dogs welcome. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=685911
23. Virginia Tech Flute Studio and Flute Choir Squires Recital Salon, Blacksburg Sunday, April 2, 2023, 3:00 - 4:30 PM Admission: Free Start Virginia Vineyard month by tasting wines rarely grown in Virginia with our Pinot Noir and Riesling. Picnics, kids, and dogs welcome. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=686148
24. Award-Winning Wine Pairing Dinner The Bad Apple, Pembroke Sunday, April 2, 2023, 5:00 - 8:00 PM Admission: $85.00 A Governor’s Cup winning winemaker brings gold medal wines to pair with six delicious courses at The Bad Apple. Live music will be provided by the Mood Swing Duo. Tickets include all taxes and gratuities. Reservations are required. Link: http://www.nextthreedays.com/FeaturedEventDetails.cfm?E=685925
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Have a great weekend and thanks for reading! Go Hokies!

This is my first year that I've been absolutely craving some light spring florals, and I wanted to do a deep dive on Iris/Violets/Orris to find a new scent. I meandered down a tuberose path and surprisingly fell absolutely in love (after previously hating this note). Also a few orange blossom and assorted white florals in here. Enjoy!
Top faves
Diptyque Fleur de Peau Smells waxy and like not much of anything at first? A lipstick iris. Starts to become slightly peppery and clean but still very faint. Second test and it is buttery and soapy up close but there is something so intoxicating and addicting from the sillage. I get more of the florals from arms length. I wore this while traveling and fell absolutely in love with how it wore on my jacket for days.
Frederic Malle Carnal Flower Very green and earthy tuberose, not overly tropical and banana. It smells like the whole plant. Creamy subtle melon in the dry down. Completely intoxicating and an immediate purchase.
Room 1015 Sonic Flower A juicy watermelon Iris. Really light and pleasant, slightly fruity and slightly sweet but not overwhelming. It’s very delicate and translucent which keeps the sweetness from being too cloying. The longer it melts into my skin the more beautiful it becomes. Very Iris forward, buttery yet fruity. It's like a more playful Fleur de Peau. I normally hate fruity scents but this one is so light and translucent
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Like but not love
DS&D Sweet Do Nothing A slightly bitter, desert plant floral. It smells like cutting into a blooming cactus to reveal the inner water, with some green and watery notes.
Heretic Florgasm A nice white floral, smells like spring. Some banana tuberose accords. It doesn’t seem particularly unique but is well done for a spring floral scent.
Profumum Orangea Sweeter than the other orange blossoms. Bitter orange, green, and almost watery. The citrus is overwhelming for a while. Green and floral end up overpowering the orange. It's a big orange blossom.
Regime des Fleurs Himitsu Very soft suede and buttery, lightly sweet floral. Vanilla dry down. Gives me the tiniest bit of gummy bear vibes.
Replica Lazy Sunday Morning Pleasant white floral, not overbearing. Doesn’t turn powdery or headachy. Surprises me how much I like it for a pretty straight forward floral. It’s so well balanced, and beautiful.
Tauer Golestan Strong lemon peel and ylang ylang opening. Dries to Orange blossom. Not too sweet and not too powdery. The citrus freshens it up and prevents it from become too stale. Classic Tauerade but with a beautiful garden of florals. Long dry down turns into a vanilla amber.
Trudon Bruma Very spicy and peppery opening but dissipates quickly. Kind of reminds me of LADDM but with a floral twist. It settles into a really nice and not overly waxy Iris. Dries very powdery, like a gentler Moth.
Van Cleef Bois d’Iris Candy iris, smells slightly like Smarties. Vanilla, sugar, and Amber overwhelms the Iris for me. Actually reminds me more of Eau Duelle or Architects Club than an Iris fragrance, which isn't what I want.
West Third Brand Sandalo Tuberosa Big fat Tuberose, light on the sandalwood. It’s clean, well balanced, creamy.
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Okay but not for me
Aedes Iris Nazarena A very rooty orris. It has more of a root vegetable lean than a floral lean. Starts to develop spicy with a touch of sweetness, I assume from the amber. It has a light leathery smell. The more I wear it the more I become enchanted by it but I think this would be a better fall scent.
Crivelli Iris Malikhan A sweet but kinda cologne smell of a floral? I can see how this is an Iris that men want to wear. I wouldn’t really know this was Iris if it wasn’t in the name. I smell heavy vanilla and Amber. This smells more like winter than spring.
Diptyque Eau des Sens EDT At first spray, an absolutely beautiful citrus blossom. On second sniff, an absolutely potent lemon cleaner. It mellows out to be really delicate and beautiful quickly. The patchouli starts to become more pronounced in the dry down and becomes more of a “head shop” scent which I didn’t expect and ultimately made it a scrubber.
Diptyque Olene edp Very indolic jasmine. It’s a very overwhelming floral, nothing delicate. The sillage smells nice but up close it assaults your nostrils.
Diptyque Orpheon edp Very screechy. At first smell it’s powdery dove deodorant but then it develops into something very overwhelming that isn’t a pleasant white floral I’d expect from Diptyque. Scrubber.
Hima Jomo Spring in Bome Clean, citrusy opening. Very green, very wet. Geranium is prominent. Smells like a lush garden after a heavy rain. I don’t detect any Iris.
Hiram Green Moon Bloom Extremely heady and indolic. A banana leaning tuberose. Very tropical and intoxicating. It smells exactly like banana boat sunscreen.
L’artisan Iris de gris Very green and earthy. Not floral at all. Slightly powdery. Nothing really standing out to me.
Mason Violet Nuee Bleu Bright citrus and baby wipes. A soft lipstick Iris is also in the mix. It’s a very bright sunshine Iris, not a gray moody iris. Dries very powdery.
Masque Milano L’Attesa Very powdery Iris. Clean, I get some aldehydes and geranium. It’s a baby powder Iris, not buttery at all.
Oriza Legrand Jardins d’Armide Very powdery opening, it has a suede quality from the orris. The floral is quite earthy and not cloying. Ultimately it’s too baby powder for me.
Papillon Angelique A very pretty and sweet little floral. I get a light hay backdrop. Not a ton of iris. I think the mimosa is the most prominent note here and I don’t love it.
Papillon Hera Very pissy. Very indolic, sour and powdery floral. The orris starts to open up more in the dry down. It becomes very orris and a bright but not waxy version of it. I can't tell if I hate it or like it.
Parle Moi Orris Tattoo Buttery suede. I’m glad I tried this to smell what plain orris smells like but I learned from this that I like orris with more florals and intrigue.
Regime des Fleurs Tears Delicate, aromatic, and powdery. Smells like a good bar soap, not a ton of Iris.
Regime des Fleurs Willows Creamy Iris, like Fleur de peau. Slightly sweet. Doesn’t last nearly as long or have as good of a dry down though. Smelled like play doh on second wear.
Serge Lutens Fleur d’Oranger Opens somewhat animalic, maybe from honey? Has a sort of body odor opening I didn’t like. Starts to open up to a delicate and beautiful floral, but the BO smell continues to show up.
Van Cleef California Reverie A delicate and beautiful orange blossom and jasmine. A touch of clean linen smell and honeysuckle. It waffles between being the most beautiful scent and being Febreze. Developed too sweet and I can't not smell Febreze from it though.

My hair is a level 8/9. I highlighted my roots with wella blondor and a 20 volume. I left it in foils for 50 minutes and rinsed. My roots are now orange. Should I try highlighting again with a 40 volume the next time? Or is it my developer isn’t strong enough? Should I get another brand? I got my 20 developer from Sally beauty Store.

Last updated: Mar 2023

Intro

This is a long Deep Dive of Bitcoin that goes into its general topics while cutting out the bullshit.
Its target audience are crypto experts who write crypto guides for others. I've included sources inline so you can reuse them.

Bitcoin Purpose and History

History

Bitcoin was the first popular cryptocurrency. It was invented in 2008 during the 2007-2009 Financial Crisis by an anonymous entity under the pen name of Satoshi Nakamoto and launched in 2009. For the first several years, fewer than 100 supporters worked altruistically to develop its code and mine the network. It is a disinflationary cryptocurrency with a supply cap of 21M Bitcoins (2.1 quintillion Satoshis).
Core Devs
Gavin Andresen later replaced Nakamoto as the lead developer of the Bitcoin code repository and lead developer at the Bitcoin Foundation. There are currently only 5 Bitcoin Core maintainers with commit access after both Peter Wuille and Lead Developer Wladamir van der Laan left in July and August 2022.
Block size
Bitcoin's blocks were originally limited to 32MB in size but later reduced to 1MB in 2010. After the Segwit update, blocksize changed again from 1MB to 4M weight (technically it's also 1MB). In Nov 2021, the Taproot soft fork was activated, which allows for signature aggregation via Schnorr signatures.
Bitcoin is currently the most popular cryptocurrency and marketcap leader. Since cryptocurrency value is largely based on network effect and is a Keynesian Beauty Contest, it is likely to remain popular until that narrative changes.

Purpose

The original purpose of Bitcoin from Satoshi's whitepaper was to provide a "peer-to-peer electronic cash system". During the early years, the main use case for Bitcoin was black market trading on sites like the Silk Road. Many larger merchants that accepted Bitcoin for payment in the earlier years stopped due to extreme price fluctuations.
Instead, nearly all merchants now work through centralized payment systems that convert Bitcoin into fiat. Its extreme price fluctuations also prevent it from being an ideal Store of Value, and it's too slow and inefficient to be used as a Medium-of-Exchange for day-to-day transactions. Thus, the only notable purposes of Bitcoin nowadays (besides being a speculative asset) is to provide censorship-resistance and pseudonymity.
Anti-censorship: Bitcoin provides partial financial censorship-resistance against sanctions and totalitarian government restrictions. It's much harder to prevent Bitcoin transactions than it is to prevent financial transactions at a centralized bank. For example, many Russians, Iranian, and North Koreans are getting around sanctions by using Bitcoin and mixers. Legal sex workers and marijuana industries are sometimes blocked from using traditional financial services due to social stigma. Bitcoin provides those workers a way to transfer funds around that censorship.
Pseudonymous: Bitcoin's UTXO transactions can provide moderately-high levels of obscurity. A single wallet can produce a near-unlimited amount of addresses, and there's no way to link them unless they interact with each other. It's much harder to trace UTXO-based wallets than Account-based wallets because the former creates new UTXO addresses with each transaction while Account-based blockchain wallets typically reuse the same account.

Design and Consensus

Proof of Work

Bitcoin uses Proof of Work, which provides both Nakamoto Consensus and Sybil Resistance. In Proof of Work, miners compete to solve a cryptography hash puzzle that has a set number of leading zeros. Whoever figures it out is able to package a block of transactions from the mempool and submit it. PoW is very similar to picking the winning block based on a lottery where a miner's chances of winning is directly proportional to how much energy they waste. Bitcoin was originally mined by CPUs, then GPUs, and now can only be efficiently mined by specialized ASIC processors.
Slow finality
The longest chain (technically the highest-difficulty chain) is known as the canonical chain, and miners are supposed to build on that chain. However, they can decide to build on another chain and fork Bitcoin. Bitcoin is constantly being forked, sometimes intentionally and other times accidentally or due to network latency. However, only the longest chain is considered the canonical chain. Thus Bitcoin has probabilistic finality instead of deterministic finality, which means that the Bitcoin Proof of Work consensus protocol can not guarantee that transactions are final.
Block times are about 10 minutes each with 4M-weight blocks. This allows for a maximum of about 5-7 transactions per second. Block times are variable and very inconsistent. 14% of block times are longer than 20 minutes, and 5% are longer than 30 minutes [Source]. Most exchanges and wallets use 3-6 blocks for finality, which means that you should wait ~60 minutes before assuming a transaction has settled. This makes it one of the slowest popular crypto networks. Many newer Proof of Stake blockchains settle 100x faster in under 10-30 seconds.
Difficulty adjustments
The puzzle difficulty is algorithmically set so that blocks are submitted once every 10 minutes on average. Every 2 weeks, the difficulty automatically readjusts to maintain constant block times. Due to the difficulty and rarity of solving the block puzzle as an individual, miners often join mining pools where their rewards are collectively split. Miners in mining pools often get paid by the pool for solving easier puzzles (fewer leading zeros).
Block rewards
The winning miner is rewarded with a block reward, which is the sum of the block subsidy (built-in inflation on the Bitcoin network used to pay for its security) and the transaction fee (paid by the user submitting the transaction). The block subsidy halves in nominal BTC roughly once every 3.8 years, meaning that it reduces by 99% every 27 years.

UTXO Transactions

UTXO Basics
Bitcoin uses UTXO transactions, which store the unspent input and output balances of a transaction. Unlike account transactions, it is difficult to keep track of the balance of an user's account with UTXO. UTXOs are also less storage-efficient because they usually have multiple input and output UTXOs. There's usually one additional output UTXO to store the remaining change balance, and wallets automatically combine multiple inputs. Combining multiple inputs also makes them susceptible to dust attacks that reduce your privacy.
Like Ethereum smart contracts, Bitcoin can save space and fees using batch transactions, and it can do this natively using UTXO without needing smart contracts.
Transactions are submitted with a fee to the Bitcoin network. They sit in the mempool until a miner packages them into a block. The higher the fee, the quicker miners will pick up the transactions. Users can also use Replace By Fee and Child Pays For Parent to increase the transaction fee of previously-submitted transactions.
Transaction size calculations
After the Segwit update, newer transactions calculate size based on weight units instead of bytes. A vByte is equivalent to 4 weight units. To calculate weight units, the non-witness parts (including the marker and flag) of the Bitcoin transaction in bytes are multiplied by a factor of 4.
Bitcoin transactions vary in size depending on how many inputs and output UTXOs they have. Also, different versions of UTXOs vary the weight greatly. The typical 620-weight (155 byte) transaction has a throughput of 11 TPS. The typical multisig is 2x slower.
For basic transactions, Coinbase's analysis and Hasu's analysis show that the savings for batching Bitcoin output UTXOs is at maximum 78% for storage (141 vbytes for a 1:2 transfer vs 141+31n vbytes for a 1:n transfer). There are limits to savings because input and output addresses take up the majority of space in transactions. Input addresses in particular take up twice as much space (68 vbytes) as output addresses (31-34 vbytes), so batching inputs has less savings. If you filled up an entire 4M-weight block with a single batch transaction with 125k output UTXOs, you could theoretically increase effective throughput from 3.8 TPS to 54 TfrPS. However, that's an incredibly unrealistic scenario, and with the current mix of transaction types on the blockchain, the actual effective transfers is closer to 17 TfrPS even when blocks are 100% filled.
Each 4M-weight block can hold roughly 2000 transactions on average. A typical 1 UTXO input, 2 UTXO transaction uses 155 vBytes. Multisigs start at ~200 vBytes.

Forking

Soft Forks

The advantage of soft forks
All updates on the canonical Bitcoin chain are done through soft forks. This has the advantage that no one is required to update their nodes to the latest version. Everyone is allowed the freedom of choice over whether to update.
The disadvantage of soft forks
The major downside is that Soft forks require new versions of the software to maintain backwards-compatibility with older versions, which leads to a ton of TECHNICAL DEBT. Bitcoin creates new address formats every time it soft-forks to maintain backwards compatibility with old addresses so that nodes can tell them apart. This significantly slows down the adoption of new updates, which now often take 3-6 years to gain the majority.
Nowhere else in the software industry does this happen. Even Linux distributors usually drop support for LTS releases after 5 years, and major releases often break backwards-compatibility.
Due to its soft forks, the Bitcoin network has to maintain a mismatch of all sorts of different formats (P2PK, P2PKH, P2SH, P2MS, P2WPKH, Nested P2WPKH, P2PKH, P2WSH, and P2TR). All the legacy addresses are slightly less efficient than the newer ones and cost more in fees to transact.
At the start of January 2023, only 1% of transactions were using Taproot-compatible addresses while 65% were still using legacy addresses incompatible with the Segwit update from 2017. (You may notice that the percent shot up in Feb 2023, and that was due to Ordinal inscriptions using Taproot.)

• Legacy: 26%
• Nested Segwit (within Legacy): 39%
• Segwit v0: 34%
• Taproot/Bech32m: 1%

Almost no one (1%) is using addresses newer than the 2021 update because none of the major CEXs support them. Most exchanges (Binance, Coinbase, Kraken) don't support Bech32m addresses, which means they can't send to Segwit v1 and Taproot addresses, released through the BIP 350 update.
And this limitation has blocked update progress for years.
In comparison, networks that hard fork for protocol updates don't have these incompatibility issues between versions. Everyone is working on the same version, which allows for consistency. A single Ethereum address is compatible with all versions of Ethereum, Polygon, BSC, Avalanche C-Chain, Fantom, Cronos, Kava, Gnosis, Moobeam, all layer 2 networks, and hundreds of other networks.

Hard Forks

People who don't agree with Bitcoin Core protocol can hard fork it. There are many popular hard forks of Bitcoin. The largest ones are Bitcoin XT (2014), Bitcoin Cash (2017), and Bitcoin SV (2018).
The Bitcoin Cash fork is particularly notable because it was the result of a huge rift within the Bitcoin community over the size of blocks (1MB vs 8MB/32MB). Ultimately, the small-block proponents won the war, and Bitcoin kept its 1MB blocks while large-block proponents hard-forked to BCH. That's a bit ironic since Bitcoin was a 32MB-block chain for most of Satoshi's time. Much like how both mainland China (People's Republic of China) and Taiwan (Republic of China) claim themselves to be the true Republic of China, both the BTC and BCH communities tried to claim the title of "Bitcoin" even after the split. There was hot blood between them for years.

Reorgs

Reorgs are when a fork happens and the previous longest chain gets completely overwritten by a new longest chain. The new blocks in the previous chain are lost and overwritten. There have been at least 2 reorgs longer than 6 blocks: 51 blocks in Aug 2010 and 24 blocks on Mar 12, 2013 Source 1, Source 2. Both times were caused by coding bugs and had to be fixed by 51% attacks with community approval. The 2010 reorg actually caused Bitcoin to mint 184.4 billion Bitcoins, way past its 21 million cap. There have also been at least three 4-block reorgs prior to 2017. So the usual recommendation to wait 3-6 block confirmations was not guaranteed to be safe in the past. However, it has been stable for the past several years, and we haven't had any reorgs larger than 2 blocks.

Lack of Efficiency

Low throughput and slow block times

Bitcoin is a 3-4 TPS blockchain (when blocks are 100% filled) with a 30-60 minute probabilistic finality. It used to have a maximum of 7 TPS, but that has gradually fallen over the years after the Segwit update and exchanges started using batch transactions. It's much too slow to be used for point-of-sales merchant transactions. In comparison, both Avalanche's X-Chain (another UTXO network) and Algorand can reach 6000 TPS with under 5-sec deterministic finality.

High cost of security

Bitcoin is one of the least efficient cryptocurrencies. In 2021, each block cost roughly $150-300K in costs to mine, which is equivalent to $100-150 of fees per transaction. The amount of energy needed for a single Bitcoin transaction in Sept 2021, ~1800 kWh, is roughly the same as the amount of energy used by a typical US household over 62 days. The total Bitcoin network energy consumption was ~150-200 TWh / yr in 2021-2022. For comparison, the US has 92 Nuclear power plants that produced 778 TWh in 2021 source, so the Bitcoin network uses the equivalent power of 18-24 US nuclear power plants. Another way of looking at this is that Bitcoin consumes about as much energy as all data centers globally [Source].

Mempool congestion

Because of the slow transaction speed of Bitcoin, there's often a traffic jam of transactions waiting to be picked for the next block. Transactions sent to the network via gossip protocol sit in the mempool, and there were several times where the backlog ended up being greater than 100k transactions (8 hours) in 2021 and 2022. Many transactions were untouched for days until they timed out.
Due to its slow speed, Bitcoin is not suitable as a payment system for point-of-sales transactions. It would be silly to ask a customer to wait 60 minutes while the transaction finalizes.

Moderately-high Fees

Bitcoin fees vary with mempool size, congestion, and the sat/vByte ratio. Back in 2010, nearly all Bitcoin transactions had no fee. The fee has risen over time.
Bitcoin's fees are high enough that you can't use them for daily transactions. During the cheapest days of the 2022 bear market, fees fell back to $0.10 to $0.40 per transaction, and a transaction set to 1-2 sat/vB fees would go through in a couple of hours. In a bull market, fees can rise to $1-10 per transaction, and any fee set below 10 sat/vB could stay days in the mempool.
In fact, Layer 1 transfer fees even briefly rose past $50 in May 2021. That's way more than its competitors (e.g. XLM, XRP, Nano, BCH) that have average transfer fees under $0.10. And fees will rise again during the next bull run.

Unable to reach widespread global adoption

At 4 TPS, Bitcoin can only make ~345K transactions/day. There are ~8B people in the world today. If Bitcoin grows to the size of 1% of the population, each person can make an average of 1 on-chain transaction every 230 days. If Bitcoin usage grows to 10% of the population, each person can make an average of 1 on-chain transaction every 6.3 years. Bitcoin cannot achieve even 10% of world adoption unless everyone's solely using centralized exchanges and not interacting with the network itself.

Lightning Network

What is the Lightning Network?

The Lightning Network was built as a partial-Layer 2 protocol to help scale Bitcoin due to Bitcoin's slow throughput and block time limitations.
Lightning uses an interconnected network of State Channels. Two or more parties have to open a multisig payment channel using a Hash TimeLock Contract (~800 weight) and rebalance the initial state. They can do however many transactions as they want off the Bitcoin network until they run out of capacity. Once they're done, they can close the channel and receive their portions of their funds from the channel. The network links multiple of these state channels together to create the Lightning Network.

Meant for small transactions

The total value stored on public Lightning channels account for under 0.02% of Bitcoin's total locked value. Transaction fees are low, so running a Lightning Network Daemon is not particularly profitable, especially since nodes constantly have to rebalance, costing additional fees. The larger your transaction, the higher the fees you have to pay to route it through the network. As of March 2023, the average channel capacity is only 0.07 BTC, and the average node capacity is only 0.33 BTC. It's not uncommon to have a 1 BTC transaction cost $2-10 in fees to route through multiple nodes in the Lightning Network due to limited channel capacity, which can make it more expensive than L1 Bitcoin fees.

Not a true Layer 2

Similar to Plasma channels, the Lightning network is not considered a true Layer 2 because it lacks global state. There are many nodes that are not connected to the rest of the network, and onion routing issues sometimes cause nodes to be disconnected from the rest of the network. Channels only work if everyone's online. If you're offline, others can force-close your channel, leading to a 1-week wait time where the channel's funds are locked and inaccessible.
Partially-centralized, low-security layer
There are a lot of limitations to the Lightning Network, and participants have to monitor their channels constantly to make sure they aren't improperly closed or disconnected.
Most people just connect to centralized nodes in a spoke-hub network topology to gain access to high-capacity nodes. Even though average capacity is getting bigger, the number of public channels has been on the decline since 2021, meaning that Lightning is becoming more centralized.

Rebalancing issues

One of the biggest problems with opening channels is that they start out with zero incoming liquidity. Anyone who opens a channel starts out with a metaphorical full cup of water. They can't receive any more water until they first empty the cup a little. And they can only receive additional water equivalent to the amount they removed. Similarly, people who open new channels to the Lightning network need to find a way to spend their Sats safely so that they can have incoming liquidity. Merchants and Lightning node providers often have a lack of incoming-liquidity while consumers who only spend usually run out of outbound liquidity. They have to pay up to $1 to rebalance each $1000.
There are several ways to get incoming liquidity. You can't just send Sats to another one of your accounts because that will just create a private channel disconnected from the rest of the Lightning network. You have to do it with another node on the Lightning network that has large incoming capacity, and that costs money because that uses up their capacity.
Most methods involve some variation of either 1) paying for a service (as expensive as $1 fee per $1000 of liquidity) or 2) finding other trusted members to take your funds on Lightning and then send you back the funds off-chain or on mainnet. Merchants who only receive funds have to constantly rebalance their channel (or more likely pay some centralized 3rd-party provider to do it). While it's not anywhere as expensive as the 2% that credit card companies charge, it's an ongoing cost and annoyance. Some newer methods available for initial setup are Dual Funding, which is only available for certain nodes like C-Lightning, and liquidity triangles.

Limits to adoption

Not even the Lightning Network could scale Bitcoin beyond 10% global adoption because opening and closing a channel requires 2 on-chain transactions. Each Lightning channel has directional capacity, and whenever that gets exceeded (varying times depending on usage, e.g. every 2-4 weeks), it will need to be rebalanced. This usually means someone on the network is closing and reopening with new capacity. You can't expect people to store months of funds on a single channel. Half of the US is living paycheck to paycheck and gets new checks biweekly. Merchant stores typically close their accounts at the end of the day. If even 1% of the world used the Lightning Network and opened/closed channels twice a year, the Bitcoin Network would become completely congested.
The only way Bitcoin and the Lightning Network could grow to 1% global adoption is if most of the users are only interacting on centralized exchanges/nodes and settling on the Bitcoin network directly no more than twice a year.

Other Weaknesses

Lack of Features

Bitcoin is very basic. It only supports 1 token: Bitcoin. The scripting language it uses, Bitcoin Script, is also rudimentary. Most miners will refuse to run anything beyond the few known basic scripts that have been whitelisted for Bitcoin use. This includes multi-signature and time-locks. These are scripts, but they're too basic to be considered actual smart contracts.

Mining Pool Centralization

The top 3 mining pools own 60% of the network [Source]. Mining is not something the average crypto user can do by themselves unless they join a mining pool because the chance of winning the block is astronomically low. You need an expensive and specialized high-end ASIC miner for SHA-256 mining. To prevent miners from stealing the block, mining pool servers do not provide enough information to miners for them to tell when an attack is coming. They will only find out if they're running full nodes and paying attention, and only after the attack has been committed. Individual miners have no financial incentive to run full nodes, so it's rare for them to be auditing their pool operators.
This could be fixed with Stratum v2, but that's not available yet. And we don't even know if mining pool will allow it. There are multiple configurations of Stratum v2, and only 2 out of 4 give control of block production to miners.

Lack of Client Diversity

Everyone is running some version of Bitcoin Core, which is developed by a single skeleton crew. All documentation on how to run a node point to Bitcoin Core, and if you search for "how to install a node" on Bitcoin Talk, they all use Bitcoin Core.
In addition, the largest mining pools (AntPool, Foundry USA, and F2Pool, and Binance Pool) all use Stratum v1 clients, which gives full control of block production to operators. News about Stratum v2 has been slow, and it's uncertain if the pools will even want to give up their control and switch to it.
In comparison, Etheruem has at least 5 consensus clients and 4 execution clients. And their community is constantly encouraging others to switch to minority clients.

Security Issues

Lack of sustainability

Bitcoin pays its Proof of Work miners with a block reward for providing security to the network. The block reward is the sum of:

1. a fixed block subsidy (currently 6.25 BTC) paid through inflation of BTC, and
2. a variable transaction fee from customers

Currently, that block subsidy is about $200K per block and it accounts for [97-99%]((https://bitinfocharts.com/comparison/bitcoin-fee_to_reward.html)) of the block reward. Thus the current subsidy ($80 per transaction) is over 50x higher than current transaction fees.
As halvings continue and BTC's value can no longer keep doubling (due to exceeding the value of all assets in the world), the total block reward will keep decreasing. Some combination of the following must happen:

1. transaction costs increase to replace the block subsidy
2. miners drop out, leading to a decrease in Bitcoin's security

I don't expect consumers to pay for $50 transaction fees. Instead, there's a very high chance that Bitcoin will experience an ice age where all miners drop out except for the few miners who can acquire cheap ASIC rigs and run at the cheapest energy costs, leading to more centralization. This has been discussed many times before as the Tragedy of the Commons for Bitcoin since 2011. At that point, it will be extremely profitable to perform 51% attacks.

Susceptible to 51% attacks in the distant future

Proof of Work networks are inherently weak to 51% attacks.
Many smaller PoW have been successfully-attacked by mining pools from larger networks. Some PoW networks like Bitcoin Cash have introduced checkpoints to limit damage from attacks. Bitcoin Cash is actually quite resistant to 51% attacks due to that checkpoint, at the cost of having a longer finality time.
Bitcoin lacks finality checkpoints. It only takes $5-10B of mining equipment to compromise the Bitcoin network, and many billionaires and nation states easily have the funds to do this. Even poor countries like Nigeria have a $400B GDP. What's preventing others from attacking Bitcoin isn't the monetary cost--it's because it's hard to acquire that many mining rigs. But as halvings continue, if the price of Bitcoin doesn't double every 4 years, miners will eventually sell their equipment on secondary markets. Some nation state or billionaire could easily buy them, short Bitcoin, and then 51%-attack the network. They don't even need to go through the trouble of stealing funds.
Simply producing empty blocks is enough to grind the network to a halt. And they still get paid the block subsidy.
List of PROs (below): https://np.reddit.com/MPlankton/comments/127ztpv/bitcoin_research_mar_2023/jegk1nh/
List of CONs (below): https://np.reddit.com/MPlankton/comments/127ztpv/bitcoin_research_mar_2023/jegk6oh/

Read the website version to see the images: https://marvelstrikeforce.com/updates/blog-update-3-31-23

ROYAL SOLDIER EVENTS

COORDINATED ASSAULT

Go on a mission with your Alliance in the name of Iso-8 resources on April 2nd at 2:00PM (PDT) with Coordinated Assault. Spend Iso-8 Campaign Energy to earn points (1 Energy = 1 point) toward a 7-day Alliance Milestone that rewards T2 Level 1 Ions, T1 Ions, and Victory Flags for progress in Royal Soldier.

EVIL INVASION

Enhance your resident villainy experts on April 3rd at 2:00PM (PDT) with the upcoming Evil Invasion Event. Power up your Masters of Evil, add a new costume to your roster's closet, and much more with this 6-day event.
Earn Points
Gain points by opening Gold Orbs, earning Alliance Credits from Alliance Donations, and battling in Raids. You'll earn more point using Invaders, so don't forget to unleash this new team in Raid lanes.
Milestone
Hit milestones that reward Victory Flags and the War Medal item for Royal Soldier progress, along with Masters of Evil character shards, Bio and Tech gear, and Bits that can be used to acquire Ultron's "What If?" Costume from the Costume Store.
Leaderboard
Climb the ranks of this leaderboard for a chance to earn T2 Level 5 Ions and Elite 7 Credits!

DEATH SIEGE

Plant the seeds of rewards on April 7th at 2:00PM (PDT) with Death Siege, the next Quick Rumble. Death Seed will be the featured trait and along with Quick Rumble rewards, Death Siege will reward Victory Flags, Purple Gear Credits, Orange and Teal Raid Orb Fragments, and Armory 15 and 16 Orb Fragments. Accelerate your progress through the milestones by winning with characters who possess the featured trait at 3 Stars and 5 Stars, or go even faster with those characters at 7 Stars.

EGG HUNT

Grab your basket on April 4th at 2:00PM (PDT) to hunt some eggs. Score points by spending Campaign Energy (not including Iso-8 Campaign) and earning Alliance Credits via Alliance Donation. There will also be a Leaderboard that includes Iso-8 T2 Level 5 Ions.

CYBER WARFARE

Swing onto the web and spin up resources on April 2nd at 2:00PM (PDT) with the upcoming Cyber Warfare event.
Collect War Credits and spend War Defense Boosts to score points toward this 7-day milestone that rewards Gold, Catalyst Parts, and fragments for the Teal Gear Raid Orb and Orange Elite Orb.

DEATH SCOURGE EVENT

Death knocks on your door again on April 1st at 2:00PM (PDT) with the return of Archangel's Death Scourge Event. Prep now by powering up your Wakandans and/or Bionic Avengers in order to tackle Nodes 5 and 10 on Difficulty 5+. Players who already have 810 Archangel character shards will be moved to the separate Champion’s Bracket where there will be separate Milestone Rewards that don't include Archangel shards.

BUCKY BARNES

Add Bucky Barnes to your Invaders team before his event and start dominating Raid lanes when his character shard offers go live in the Store on April 3rd at 2:00PM (PDT). Don't forget that when you purchase one of these offers, you unlock a chain of special, limited-time deals on Gold, Training Modules, and more with amazing value.
Whether you plan on recruiting Bucky Barnes from an offer or from his upcoming event, make sure you stop by the Elite Store on April 3rd, as he'll be featured in Red Star Orbs with an increased drop rate of 15% for a limited time.

MOJO'S MAYHEM

It's lights, camera, action for the newest season of Mojo's Mayhem on April 7th at 2:00PM (PDT). Season 33's rewards include character shards for Agent Venom, the Rebirth team's Symbiote Blaster, so don't miss out on racking up Ratings in exchange for fabulous prizes!

ELITE STORE

Power up Moonstone with more Red Stars when she heads into the Elite Store in the near future. Keep an eye out for an Inbox message alerting you to her addition, where you'll be able to use Silver or Gold Promotion Credits to promote her one Red Star higher than her current rank.

CHARACTER AVAILABILITY

Looking for even more character shards for your Masters of Evil team? Titania and Absorbing Man will be heading into the Basic Orb, Ultimus Orb, Mega Orb, Premium Orb, and Supplies Store in the near future. To make way for these updates, Baron Zemo and Lady Deathstrike will be removed from the Mega Orb. Keep an eye on your Inbox for a message alerting you to these updates.

FREE CLAIM FRIDAY

Pick off milestones for Angel's Army and the Royal Soldier month-long event with the help of today's free claim: 5,400 Victory Flags, 1,000 Reaper Orb Fragments, and 100 Campaign Energy.
This Free Claim will only be available for 24 hours (ending April 1st at 2:00PM (PDT)), but make sure you keep an eye out for more Free Claims every day on the web!

WEEKLY EVENTS

Centaurian Hunter Blitz

• Start Date: April 4th at 2:00PM (PDT)
• Rewards: Yondu character shards

Quick Rumble Blitz

• Start Date: April 7th at 2:00PM (PDT)
• Rewards: Blitz Orbs, Gold, Legacy Orbs, Basic Catalyst Parts, and Raid Health Packs
• Featured Trait: Death Seed

Relic Hunt Flash Event

• Start Date:April 7th at 2:00PM (PDT)
• Rewards: Catalyst Parts
• Required Characters: Hand

Knowhere Heist

• Start Date: April 7th at 2:00PM (PDT)
• Required Characters: Kitty Pryde, Rocket Raccoon, Doctor Octopus, Invisible Woman, and Star-Lord.
• Rewards: Dark Promotion Credits, Elite 7 Credits, and Gold

Until next time…
Good luck, Commanders!
**Please note that the information in this blog is subject to change before going live in the game.*\*

Looking for a store to buy Manic Panic or similar hair dye. Ricky's used to be a consistent option but they're out of biz and all the beauty supply stores I used to frequent are also gone. Anyone know a spot in Brooklyn or Manhattan?

Context: As the Siege of Terra nears its final hours, the defenders--what's left of them--have fallen back to the Eternity Gate for a final stand. If the Gate falls, the Palace falls and Terra along with it. Knowing this, Sanguinius of the Blood Angels gives a speech to the exhausted defenders. It's so stirring that even Arkhan Land, a cynic among cynics and no fan at all of the primarchs (in fact he views them as abominations) is a little moved.
One of the best speeches since Grimaldus at Helsreach, in my opinion.

Sanguinius’ words carried across the kilometres of elevated wall, brought to distant ears on the clicking, ticking, crackling speakers of servo-skulls and Mechanicus drones. Soldiers clustered around their data-slates to bear witness to the primarch’s proclamation. The hundred thousand defenders of the Delphic Battlement, drawn from all across the burning Imperium, listened to the words of the Great Angel. All of them could see him, even if they were far from his sight and forced to rely on a hololithic reflection. All of them could hear him, even if his words purred through the crackling mouth of a floating probe.
Land had expected a speech dripping with demagogic inspiration. He’d find it tawdry, but knew most of the human defenders – many of whom responded far more positively to the primarchs than the Mechanicus did – would find great value in such a display.
But that was not what he, nor any of them, received.
‘I do not want to be here,’ Sanguinius told them. ‘I do not want this present, and I want the future that follows even less. We stand against our own brothers and sisters, with our backs to the Eternity Gate, and this is not a battle we can win. If you have ever wondered how you will die, now you know. If you have ever wondered where your body will lie, now you know. You will be killed on the last wall between hope and horror. Your body will lie here, unburied, staring up at a poisoned sky.
‘Once the Sanctum falls, Terra falls with it. And I tell you – we cannot hold this wall. You can see it yourselves – they are too many, we are too few. We may last a week, if we do the impossible. More likely we will all be dead in three days. Perhaps my words surprise you. Or frighten you. But I will not lie. Not to you, not to you who have come through two hundred days of dread only to find yourselves here.
‘I have looked into your faces and seen what this war has cost all of you. I have followed the flow of battles that each of you have survived, to stand here on the final battlement. I see everything you have endured, those stories written in the light of your eyes. Now the Warmaster offers you the lie of life, promising a mercy his forces are incapable of showing, if we will abandon this last wall. And it falls to me, here and now, to tell you to stand against him one more time. To give everything you have, even your lives, if it will hold this rampart for another day, another hour, another second. That is what the moment demands of me, is it not? That I beg you to make one last sacrifice?’
Sanguinius swooped closer to the battlement, casting his sword to the stone. It clattered there, in a loose cluster of Blood Angels, none of whom made any attempt to pick it up. Land stared at it for a long moment, then watched as the primarch whirled in the sky to face the wall once more, showing his bare hands to the gathered thousands.
‘No.’ Sanguinius fairly breathed the word.
His wings beat hard, holding him aloft. He stared into the silence that met his disavowal, and he shook his head to punctuate the syllable with adamance.
‘No. I will not ask it of you. You have already given everything. You have already done everything asked of you a hundred times and more. You have suffered through a war of unimaginable darkness, one that has demanded more from you than any soldier in the history of our species has been forced to give. The fact you still live, that you still fight… I cannot conceive of the courage and resilience it requires for you to face this dawn and look to the horizon with a rifle in your hands.’
Land could hear Army soldiers shuffling; he saw them glancing at each other. None of them spoke. All of them held rapt to the primarch’s words.
‘Where Horus has offered only lies, I will offer you truth. Those of you that wish to run… Run. Leave this place. Not in shame at a duty undone, not in surrender to the traitor’s forces, but with honour. Go with my gratitude, for you have already given everything asked of you. What right do I – does anyone – have to demand more? From you, who have endured harrowing beyond account, horror beyond measure?
‘If you wish to fall back into the Sanctum Imperialis and spend the last hours of life with your children, then do so. Know that you go not only with my blessing, but with my envy.
‘If you wish to leave the wall and take your chances in the wasteland before the battle begins, then – in the Emperor’s name – you have earned the right to try. Go swiftly, and carry with you the pride that you have already given a hero’s share in a war that none of us wanted but were forced to fight.
‘And if you wish for the truth, I will give it to you gladly, for you have earned that, too. It shames me to admit, but I would abandon this wall if I could. The primarch in me, the supposed demigod half of my heart, craves life with a ferocity that shames me. If I bowed to that instinct, I would take to the sky and never look back. But I cannot. I am half-human. And the human in me demands that I stay.’
Sanguinius turned, looking over his shoulder at the retreating emissary. Daughter of Torment was a quarter of the way to her lines now. When he looked at the wall once again, all could see the resolve in his eyes.
‘There are legends about me, I hear them whispered among you every day, that I know the moment of my own death. The stories say this gives me courage, that I feel no fear because I know I cannot yet be slain. Here is the truth of that tale.
‘That prophesied death is coming. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. I know not the When or the How, only that I feel fate’s breath on the back of my neck. I do not remain here out of immortality’s courage. I remain here because, if I am to die, I choose this death. I choose to die with my back to the last door. I choose to give my life to buy another hour, or a minute, or even a single second of grace to those who cannot be here fighting with me. I choose to die here because I do not believe I have yet given all I can.
‘Someone must stand and fight, and if I have but one choice left, I will make it now. I will stand. I will fight. I will hold this wall, knowing that the Thirteenth Legion makes for Terra with all speed, and if they cannot bring salvation, they will bring retribution. Whether I am alone or whether a hundred thousand of you are by my side, when the Warmaster’s horde descends upon this wall, they will find me waiting for them with a blade in hand. Not because I can win, but because it is right. I do not know what delusion grips those out there, who were once our brothers and sisters. But I know it is right to oppose them.’
Silence drifted over the Delphic Battlement, but only for a moment. Sanguinius swept his arm across the wall, taking in the defenders. Thousands of holo-ghosts of his image did the very same thing.
‘I have spoken enough. You need hear no more of my fears and confessions. All that remains is for me to ask… Will you run?’
At first, in the face of the Great Angel’s honesty, there was no answer.
Corporal Mashrajeir of the 91st Industani Drop Troops didn’t know what to say. Reason and duty warred within him, in a way known to any soldier facing the grimmest odds. He could live. He could leave, and live. His regiment wasn’t made for this kind of fighting anyway. They were guerrillas, drop troops, trained for point insertion. He’d been on the ground for this whole damn war. What use was a grav-trooper on a rampart? What use was high-atmosphere jump training when all he had now was a lasrifle and a bayonet?
But he was making excuses, justifying, and he knew it. Mash had the training and the experience to overcome these doubts, to push them back and summon focus in their stead. Besides, there was nowhere to run. Not really. Tactically, it made sense to hold here. If he was going to die, best he sell his life where it would matter most.
‘No,’ he called to the primarch. And he wasn’t the first, but he was one of them. His voice cut out from the silence in the very first wave of denials. He wouldn’t leave the wall. He wouldn’t run. ‘No!’
Skitarii didn’t celebrate birthdays. Magna-Delta-8V8 was no exception to this, though her macroclade – the series of platoons and structured hierarchies that defined not only her military position but also her entire social existence – had a tradition of honouring the anniversaries of a soldier’s first combat. Due to the constant casualties and replenishment in a macroclade deployed to a theatre of conflict, it meant these acknowledgements were frequent, minor things. The exact axiom translated poorly from skit-code into any variant of Gothic, but the meaning was more or less, ‘Every day is someone’s anniversary.’ The custom usually involved the exchange of gifts, often repeatedly re-gifted within a regiment, since skitarii were permitted so few possessions of their own.
Today was Magna-Delta-8V8’s combat anniversary. Only hers, out of those that remained, because so few of them were left.
It didn’t matter that the avatar of the Omnissiah Himself was at work in the fortress behind her. It didn’t matter that the horde on the horizon outnumbered and outgunned them an incalculable number of times over. These would have been considerations, of course, on any other day, and she would have stood and fought according to the binharic diktat of duty. Today, though, these concerns were irrelevant.
There was no chance she would run on her battle anniversary. Temptation had teased even her strip-mined brain, of course. She was partially human and wholly mortal. But what sealed the decision in sacred steel was when three of her surviving clade-kin came to her in the minutes before the Ninth’s speech. They bore gifts.
Benevola-919-55 had given her a pebble from the slopes of Olympus Mons, the highest mountain on Mother Mars.
Jurispruda-Garnet-12 had given her a translator dataslug, to replace the one she’d lost herself, months before.
Kane-Gamma-A67 had given her a fistful of loose ammunition in lieu of any personal effects. He had nothing else to give.
Magna-Delta-8V8 felt the weight of these gifts, these precious and ­talismanic gestures, in the folds of her cloak as she listened to the Ninth Primarch speak. And when the Ninth asked the last question, she was ready with her answer.
She couldn’t vocalise it, at least not in Gothic, but her defiant shriek of skit-code was much of a muchness.
Lorelei Kelvyr wasn’t supposed to be here. If she’d been able to summon the strength to laugh, she’d have surely cut loose with a raw bark of nasty, sarcastic amusement now.
She’d been press-ganged, of course. Before the war’s opening bombard­ments, they’d dragged her from a life sentence in the cold tunnel-guts of the Sevastopol Mining Spire, and she’d honestly believed it would be easy to get out of ever getting sent to the line. Frankly, she’d not been able to believe her luck. Serving twenty years in the resource-starved mines for crimes she hadn’t committed, that her own family had forced her to take the fall for, and suddenly she was dragged back into the sunlight, handed a knife and a rifle, and posted far from the prying eyes of her prison overseers. Fortune smiled at last, and it had a lot to make up for.
But that had been, what… a year ago now.
It wasn’t that she’d never been able to escape. Quite the opposite. She’d escaped easily – and more than once. The first time, she’d made a break for it with several others – and one of her companions had killed a sentry on their way out of the temporary barracks. They left the poor sentry in a strangled heap, in a service locker, and fled only to find themselves lost in the palatial chaos of the Trans-Europan mag-rail nexus.
Disappearing into the crowds had been easy, choosing the right train to stow away on had been an exercise in frustration. Every route, every single one, was transferring troops to one future war front or another. And so her first escape attempt saw her leaving not only her regiment but the entire sector, only to end up a thousand kilometres away, disembarking in a crowd of troops, immediately subsumed into this new regiment. The Legiones Astartes officers at the end of the line refused all her entreaties; as far as they were concerned, she was there, she was with the regiment, and with them she’d stay.
Her next escape attempt had been painfully tantalising. After several weeks within her second regiment, she’d managed to fall in with a group of believers in the new faith (frankly, she didn’t think cult was too strong a word for them) and listening to them prattle about the God-Emperor was both nauseating and uncomfortably inspiring. She knew everything they were saying was desperate nonsense, but if it had been true… Well, they believed in a beautiful idea, sure enough. Never had she so wished for a religion to be real.
This new association had allowed her a chance to slip along to their underground prayer gatherings, which in turn had let her make contact with an Administratum liaison attending the sermons, who had been easy enough to convince into having her reassigned. All it took was professing visions of faith in the God-Emperor, and he believed her touched by divinity. Lorelei was reasonably certain he’d fallen for it anyway.
If it had succeeded, it would’ve elevated her to some position of pathetically minor authority overseeing the mono-tasks of servitors in a warehouse somewhere… if only her deployment orders hadn’t come through ahead of her transfer. She’d been waiting, down to the last moments on the mag-rail platform, casting about in the shrinking hope that her transferral notation would come through before she was finally forced, at the threat of a baton beating, to board the train.
Supposedly, the Warmaster’s fleet would reach Terra soon. She was running out of time.
Lorelei had escaped again, three nights later. She had no regrets at all about abandoning her second regiment, and in the weeks after she tore loose, she managed to lie low in the crud-shanties clustered at the base of Praxia Hivespire. There she lived in a ramshackle lean-to abandoned by its previous inhabitants: likely they were press-ganged into service themselves. She’d scavenged up the basics of survival for several weeks that time, living like a homeless queen alongside a few other deserters. But food was scarce to begin with and only got scarcer; soon enough they’d turned on each other, and it was time to bleed or leave. At first, Lorelei made sure she wasn’t the one bleeding by cutting deals with the right brutes, but she’d hoarded too much, was too good at scavenging; soon she became a victim of her own success. The scum ganged up against her and came for her with chains and scrap-daggers.
So farewell, Praxia. Farewell, crud-shanty house.
After that, well, desperation had set in. She did the one and only thing in her life she was ashamed of. Someone had died so she might live.
What followed was a period of pretending to be a Munitorum scribe, though was it really pretence when she’d been damn good at the craft? She’d actually done the work, which in her eyes made her a legitimate contender for the trade. It’d been protracted, achingly dull stuff, but easy for all that: following regiments around, taking stock of supplies, and so on and so on, unto tedious infinity. Her ident documents were even legitimate, though that was largely because they weren’t hers – they’d belonged to the woman she’d killed in order to take her place in the endless grind of Imperial bureaucracy.
A slice of dumb misfortune saw her busted by an otherwise useless administrator-captain, and for no reason beyond a simple mistake in calculations. She was supposed to be savant-grade, was she not? Why, yes, it said so on her documentation. How could she make a mistake like this? Why were her resource projections skewing so wide of the actualities?
She’d considered bribing him, which was a laugh because she had nothing to bribe him with, and she’d even considered killing him, which was twice the joke, since this was no scrawny, nutrition-stunted tallier of accounts, this was a retired Army soldier twice her weight and backed up by the crude strength of a bionic arm. Besides, she was in the thick of it then, deep in the coggy bowels of the Munitorum’s processes, and even sneezing would leave a paper trail.
She ran, literally fleeing into the night, hiding in a nameless slum town in the shadows of yet another beautiful spire. If they caught her, they’d execute her.
It took no time at all for her to be press-ganged in another wave of mandatory recruitment, and her protests availed her nothing. Practically everyone on the planet not serving in an essential position was recruited into the Imperial Army, and so Lorelei was discharged and assigned to her third regiment, temporarily barracked and gearing up to be sent to yet another sector, where they’d inevitably reinforce the other conscripts already stationed there.
Her crime and previous desertions went uncovered – so there was that, at least.
She was seemingly destined to fight in the war, though. Against all efforts to the contrary. That was it. She was being sent to fight in the line.
And for a time, she had. For months. Months of starvation and privation, months of blinking smoke from her eyes and standing in trenches next to men and women that shat themselves at night to keep warm, and pretending she was better than them, that they belonged there and she didn’t, while she grew more gaunt, more sour, day by blood-soaked day. Months of night-fighting and seeing her platoonmates eviscerated and crucified and burst open with bolter fire and carved apart with chainswords. Months and months of what everyone else was also going through. Being pawns in the Astartes’ war.
And now, after everything, now this. The Great Angel himself… saying she could run.
‘Lor,’ said the soldier next to her. ‘You alright?’
Her squad, all seven of them still alive, were huddled together in a scrimmage that reeked of sweat and crap and charred earth, watching the flickering hololith projected from Sergeant Gathis’ vambrace.
Lorelei felt tears on her face. Was she all right? Oh, yeah. She was great. Just wonderful. She wasn’t the only one showing emotion, either. It wasn’t weeping, exactly. It was a slow leak of emotion too weary to really be called weeping.
‘My name’s not Lorelei,’ she said, cuffing the tears from her cheeks. She had no idea why she was crying. It was like she’d been punctured, and now it was just trickling out of her. ‘It’s actually Daenika.’
Her squad were looking at her now.
‘Lorelei Kelvyr was just some Munitorum menial. I killed her months ago. Took her name. I hate that I did it. I wish I hadn’t.’
She looked up, meeting their eyes. To a soul, they regarded her with depleted acceptance. No anger. No disgust. No judgement at all. Not after all they’d been through as a unit.
‘I was trying to get out of the war,’ she told them. ‘I didn’t want to fight in the line. This was before I met all of you. You’re not even my first regiment. This is just the only one I couldn’t escape from. Throne, I’m so tired. We can finally run, finally leave all this shit behind us, and I’m so. Bloody. Tired.’
Her exhausted tears gave way to laughter. Weak laughter, and weary, but true.
‘We’re not running, Lor,’ Sergeant Gathis said gently. On his vambrace, Lord Sanguinius had finished speaking. The primarch asked his last question, and already the shouts of ‘No! No!’ rang out across the Delphic Battlement. It was getting hard to speak over it.
‘I know,’ she called back over the yelling. ‘Neither am I.’
Daenika and her squadmates added their voices to the chorus.
It would be a poor joke indeed to say that no one wanted to leave the wall in the wake of the primarch’s words. Many wished to run. More than a few came close, but there were as many reasons to stay as there were defenders upon the wall. Every soul there fused some combination of anger, guilt and shame, cobbling them together to make a piecemeal courage the way people always do in their bleakest moments.
Some stayed out of duty. Others out of hope, deluded or otherwise, that reinforcements may yet reach them. Some stayed only because the resolve of those around them shamed them into staying. Some stayed because Sanguinius was right – they’d already given everything, and they had nothing worthwhile left to lose. Their lives were formalities by that point, a matter of biological habit, while the war had worn them down to hollow shells devoid of everything that had defined their lives. Some stayed because they were sick of running, and after two hundred days of defensive withdrawals, this was it, this was the last battle, and they would hold the wall out of tired spite.
Land would wonder, years later, if anyone truly did try to run. Surely some did. Were they restrained by companions or shot in the back by their officers? Were they allowed to quit the wall unopposed, as the Ninth had promised? It seemed likely (statistically certain, in fact) that this was the case, but each time he turned his goggles back towards the Royal Ascension, leading up to the Eternity Gate… the Gate stood open, disgorging a stream of soldiers and materiel. No one seemed to be going against the flow to venture inside. Nor did he see anyone making their way down from the wall to take their chances in the wasteland.
Perhaps if Land and the men and women like him – precious few though they are, in any era – had a firmer understanding of the human condition, it wouldn’t have been such a surprise that so many stayed when there was a choice to flee.
No! cried the defenders of the wall. They rejected the primarch’s offer with a gestalt sound of vocal thunder.
No! No! No!
Land didn’t shout with the others. He wasn’t one for the theatrics of yelled defiance. Still… still, there was something rather primal in the way the tumult washed over him. At one point he caught himself drawing in a shaky breath, almost joining his voice to the others. He resisted, naturally. What an embarrassing loss of decorum it would be, to join in.