#hfy

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 9

Casper’s sleep was deep and curative. Morning throughout the several weeks he had spent training with Qik and the geckins had been moments of him snapping awake, aware and scared. 

His breath would catch and the young man would be *certain* that there was *something* inches away from him, merely reaching out to his vulnerable form. 

This would repeat throughout the night, breaking up his sleep schedule until he really felt as if he was only getting the bare minimum most days despite falling into his bed almost as soon as he had gotten home. 

This morning however, his eyes opened slowly. 

Without the spike of fear that he was in danger, Casper was unsure if he was dreaming or not. He took stock of his surroundings and slowly tried to understand what was different today. He could see the mattress up close, the near perfect weave of the material being soft against his face and under his fingertips. 

Blinking, he noticed his hand, which twitched in realisation that it was connect to thim. 

At his twitch however, the large brown furred hand that was placed over it gently curled its own fingers around his, pressing between the spaces of his own digits. He lay there for a time, merely looking and watching without thought or opinion. 

It was nice… The tiny action, so small that an observer would be hard pressed to say it had happened at all, filled his chest with something warm. Like a wooly scarf had been wrapped around him, wrapped around his heart. 

There was a moment however, when he wondered where this hand had come from, so asleep his mind still was. 

The arm the larger hand was connected to, disappeared out of his sight and somewhere behind him. When he tried to move however, that was when he discovered the weight on top of him. 

It wasn’t ‘heavy’, that was the wrong word. 

The pressure on top of him was reassuring. It belonged there. He felt secure in its ‘solidness’, its security. The pressure was mostly across his back and shoulders. But he felt thick, silky furry limbs intertwined with his own. Finally, that was when he noticed the whiskers that were protruding into his sight from above. The hairs were fine and very thin, so he had missed them during his still sleepy state. That was the moment he felt her head, resting on his from above, using his own head as a pillow, tucked beneath her chin.

Casper could feel that one of her long ears, that normally trailed down the back of her head and rested over her shoulders, had now fallen across his face. It’s fur even more delicate than the rest of what covered body and the exposed flesh of the inside of her ear was soft and warm, almost hot to his skin.

Her breath was steady, even and deep. With each inhale, he felt a broad chest slowly inflate across his back, gently pushing him into the mattress, before the mouth that laid over his ear, exhaled softly, the warm wind washing over his face beneath the blanket. 

She was still fast asleep. Casper, still half asleep, relaxed. There was no threat, there was no danger. He was safe in Qik’s arms. 

He closed his eyes and sighed, his own lungs taking in the warm air that smelt like her. Of wet forests and damp moss. His movement was enough to move her however. 

She didn’t wake or stir, but instead her legs tightened, curling his body into her, while her that held his hand drew closer to the pair of the sleeping bodies. In this moment, neither mind could have said where either body began or where the other ended. 

Casper closed his eyes, and in the early hours of the morning, fell back asleep. 

He rested.

His body and mind recovered in a way that hadn’t been possible, since he had slept in a human made bed on a human owned planet, billions of miles away from where he was now. Qik, on the other hand, slept like a baby. She couldn’t sleep without a pillow to hold and had found her alternate option had been a perfect replacement. 

Several hours later, when the system’s star had climbed high into the sky of the planet, the pair remained, entwined together.

Until a communicator gave a unique trill that made Qik’s ears twitch.

The pair of them ‘awoke’ in the traditional sense at the sound of the device, but only Qik disconnected, twisting her torso in a way that would have Casper straining and groaning to copy. Her hand apparently retrieved the device from the side table that crouched at the side of the oversized bed and reviewed the screen, above Casper’s head and out of sight. 

“Mm.. Fair enough.” Qik murmured, more to herself than to Casper. 

“What’s up?” The human asked, laying still, not sure how to address the fact that his teacher for the better part of two months was currently spooning him, and had done so for the whole night. 

“Got a message from my company. They’re on their way back to pick me up.” She explained dismissively, twitching her arm and the device locking sound immediately played. “We should get up, get some breakfast.” She then advised, changing the subject.

“I’m not hungry to be honest.” Casper replied, still remaining there and being truthful. He felt fine. Better than fine in fact, better than he had in a long time. The lopel didn’t reply straight away, and instead she released him so she could begin a bone cracking stretch that had her entire body quaking at the apex. She let out a high pitched squeak and sighed. 

“Well that’s too bad. You’re eating or I will think up a punishment.” She pointed out callously before rolling away and stranding up from the bed in a single smooth movement. She hadn’t even hesitated to reply, meaning that she was either serious, or had expected him to say that. Casper rolled onto his back and into the depression left in the mattress by the lopeljack. He could feel the material slowly rising back into position, despite his whole body weight and considered their differences. 

He watched the lopel as she strutted over to the kitchenette, on the other side of his quarters. She held her arms across herself, stretching as she moved. 

Despite being closer to his size than any of the other races he’d interacted with, the lopel was still a good three or four feet taller. She wasn’t as muscular as say a canid, nor nowhere closer to as big as an ursidain, but her toned and fit body showed evidence of a creature that was healthy and into their fitness. 

What drew his eye was her hips. 

Casper hadn’t interacted with many lopeljacks, in fact his total was one, so he had no frame of reference if the wide hips was normal for one of her kind. Whilst her whole body was toned, she could flex her arm and muscles would bulge from beneath her fur, it was her legs that were a sight to behold. 

They looked like a mix between a cyclist’s, a runner’s and a weight lifter’s. She was in a perfect proportion, but in Casper’s unguarded state, his mind offered the idea that she could quite easily crush a watermelon between her thighs without much effort. 

He blinked suddenly as the melon was replaced with his own head, then stamped down on the thought before it got anywhere. 

His eyes then, almost guilty, paid attention to what the rump with it’s white fluffy tail and the body it was connected to, was doing, rather than ogle it. 

“Aw come on, anything but-” The young man moaned openly, closing his eyes and letting his head sag in the beginnings of a tantrum. 

“Shut it.” She ordered without hesitation. “You are eating it.” Qik cut in, as she poured more of the nutrient slurry into a bowl and began to return. She had two bowls, one in each hand. 

“For god’s sake; *why*!?” The young man demanded, more as a petulant child than a full grown adult, unwilling to take his medicine. Qik merely rose an eyebrow and sat on the bed as Casper folded his legs in.

“Because it’ll make you feel better.” The lopel explained, pressing one of the bowls into his hands. The whitish, pinkish, mush looked just as unappitising as before with a plain spoon sat in it.

“I feel better already! Better than I have in weeks.” Casper explained, looking up, really not having the appetite to go through with this. He didn’t need to eat right now, he just had to convince her. 

Qik, however, was having none of it. Hey tone was dry, despite dripping in sarcasm. 

“Wow… I wonder why? Could it be… You ate a whole portion? Like a normal person and got a shower?” She asked, stumping Casper.

“I…”

“You feel better because you aren’t starving. You did some bare minimum self care. If you don’t keep it up, you’ll feel like shit again.” She explained, nearly ticking each point off with her spare hand. 

“Now. Either you look after yourself, or have someone look after you. I’ve seen enough husk pilots and the galaxy doesn’t need another.” She concluded, spooning some of the mush into her own mouth from her own bowl and swallowing it without complaint. 

“‘Husk pilots’? The hell is a ‘husk pilot’?” Asked the young man, his curiosity peaked once more. If he was going to be a ‘merc’ he’d need to know the terms and this was the first he’d heard of this. 

“Eat that and I’ll explain. Deal?” Offered the lopel, gesturing to his untouched bowl with her spoon. Her eyebrow was still squirked, but now she wore a smirk. 

She had him. He knew it. She knew it.

“I hate you.”

“Mm, you and everybody I’ve ever gone up against. Eat.” She agreed and ordered, completely unphased as she heaped another load of the slop into her mouth. Out of options, he obeyed.

She took a moment before she spoke around another mouthful.

“Okay. So ‘husk pilot’ is just a term for someone who’s a career pilot and nothing else.” She began, looking at the ceiling as she spoke, recalling the information. 

“And I mean ‘and nothing else’. They’re good at what they do, real good, at the cost of everything else, they don’t *do* anything else..” She explained, swiping her spoon through the air, emphasising her words. 

“How do you mean?” Casper asked as he swallowed, lowering the bowl after bringing it up to his face to eat. Qik made a ‘mm’ noise, pointing at him with her spoon before swallowing and continuing. 

“Wipe your chin. So, they’re low drifters and are essentially addicted to piloting because they feel stronger or more powerful inside their rigs.” Casper used his wrist to wipe the drop of the slurry from his chin before pulling a face of agreement and nodding.

“I have to admit, it does feel… different in the rig. I feel… Better.” He admitted, the feeling of being inside a thirty foot hunk of hardware was unlikely anything he’d felt before.

“Mm, I suspect you or at least your people will be more susceptible to it. Any extended or hard campaigns, where you wont get breaks like the one we have now? You’ll be exposed to those effects by necessity.” The lopel said with a grave and serious tone. Nodding sagely as she tilted her bowl, the dregs of her meal pooling at the bottom.

“So what’s the deal?” Casper said, tilting the bowl up to his lips, consuming the last of his breakfast. 

“Ignoring their greater skill, the effect is in their body and minds. The body wastes away, they don’t use their muscles in the day and by the time they’re out of the mechs, maybe after three or four days of continuous fighting? Their bodies atrophy.” Qik explained, with a sad expression on her features. Casper suspected she had known a husk pilot before. The human’s face contorted though as he considered her words. 

“Days? What about food? Waste?” He asked, aware that one of the first things he did after piloting the training mechs was to go sit on the toilet. 

“Military or deployment caskets aren’t the same as our training ones. Same deal, but that mask they put on you? That can be a feeding tube. Likewise, the Nerve-Suits can be upgraded to handle waste and act as stillsuits.” She explained happily, as if discussing the weather. Casper grimaced. 

“Grim.” 

“Yeah, but that’s what the fighting is about. Who blinks first. The longer a pilot can be deployed, the more attrition they can pressure the other side with. Either the pilots complete the task instantly within the same day as being deployed, or they’re in it for the long haul, at least that’s my experience.” Qik tongued the back of her spoon, finishing off her own bowl.

“So… if I became a ‘husk’? What does that mean for me?” Casper asked, still curious. 

“You’d be weak. Very weak. Like ‘wheelchair usage’ weak. You’d need a more specialised food slurry and it would be pumped into you like that first time. You remember your little hospital stint way back when?” She asked with a sharp grin, the young man wasn’t certain if she was still sore about that. 

“Not something I’d want a repeat of.” He admitted truthfully. 

“I doubted as much, I’ve had to have food by nose tube before. I hate it. Anyway, more reason to not push it too far. *And*! Thanks to the wording of our joint contracts, the geckins can’t make you do a long stint.” She explained excitedly, changing the subject rather smoothly.

“We got what’s called ‘blitz’ contracts. Either the operation is do-able in a single op, or it's not a valid operation to fulfil the contract and we get half pay with the contract marked as ‘complete’.”

This caused Casper to pause. The way she spoke was as if the geckins would try something ‘cloak and dagger’ style. 

“Do you really think the geckins would be that underhanded?” Casper asked, defending them somewhat. He’d upset them, sure, by demanding he be free to leave at his pleasure, but hardly enough for them to sign him up to an operation he couldn’t do. Right?

Qik disagreed immediately. 

“Yes. Without doubt or question.” She said sternly, more so than he had heard before.

“Really?” The young man asked, not quite believing her intensity. She took a moment to gently place the now empty bowl on the bed beside her before leaning forwards, capturing his entire attention. 

“Casper… You represent something that is going to give them an edge. Not ‘could’, you ‘will do’. Already; they’ve got a ton of data that’s helping them.” She explained with a knowing tone. The young man wasn’t sure he could pick out when Qik was lying, but she’d yet to do so if he recalled. She had only wanted what was best for him, yet now she was speaking as if she knew more than she was letting on. 

Casper squinted. 

“How do you know?” He asked. The lopel paused before shrugging and giving a lopsided smile. 

“I get bored easily.” She explained cryptically. Casper thought about that for a moment, trying to make it make sense, until all he could say was…

“Huh?”

Qik grinned, picking up her bowl and taking his from his hands and bounded away. Once more, Casper’s eyes were drawn to her rear and was reminded that once more; she was stark naked. It wasn’t the same as if she were human. He couldn’t see any major characteristics, the fur that covered her, made it so to call her ‘naked’ felt… incorrect. 

His train of thoughts were derailed again as she spoke, returning to the bed. 

“I broke into their offices and read their reports.” She explained with a mischievous air and a shrug. “I can’t help it, it’s a habit. My company stopped locking the doors after a while, took the fun out of it and I stopped reading their mail.”

“But what-” Casper started, but then Qik shook her hands, shushing him as she got back on track.

“Oh yeah, look, the geckins aren’t your friends.” She pointed out, throwing herself onto the bed.  

“They aren’t happy they’re losing you and are going to do their best to keep you around. It’s not their government, so to speak, but more private organisations that want you. Deniable plausibility in my opinion, so they can’t be accused by the GC of anything shady, but these aren’t creatures you can let your guard down around. They’re logical.” She stated with a factual tone.

“That means…” Casper asked, drawing out the word to lead her to continue. The lopel pulled a face at the ceiling then continued.

“Let me put it this way. If they thought putting you on a slab would help them win the war with the ssypno, they’d have you there by the day’s end.”

Casper blinked.

“They’re at war with the ssypno?” He asked incredulously. 

“Hah, that’s actually the most straightforward part of all this.”Qik replied with a smile, turning to rest her head on her hand, laying across Casper’s bed like an artist’s model. 

“I didn’t even know.” He mumbled.

“Open secret. It’s not a ‘war’, it's ‘expansion skirmishes’. Basically some noble, years and years ago, found the geckins and tried to put them under the thumb. Geckins fought back, established themselves as independent, now the ssypno are trying to surround geckin systems with their own and the geckins are giving them a run for the money. For me and you? It's just a constant money stream.” She added with a shrug. 

The pair were silent for a moment before the lopel sat up again and touched a hand to the lump in the covers that was Casper’s foot.

“Look, long story short? Don’t trust anyone but yourself and secondly, your company. Don’t let the geckins trick you or force you into a corner. It won't be pretty. And finally? You’ll need to be ready to fight, sooner rather than later.” She said with a tone that was as dangerous as a loaded gun with the hammer cocked back.

Even Casper didn’t miss the barely hidden warning.

“Wait… Why? Why did you say it like that?”

The lopel raised her communicator. 

“I got the message when we woke up. Fight’s back on. We’re to be deployed.”

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[marlynnofmany]

This is delightful.

[shailion]

Do you think aliens would get freaked out when we crack our joints?

*human stands up after too long spent hunched over the computer, all joints cracking*

*alien coworker whose only experience with human anatomy comes from movies where crack = broken bone*

[teddybeartoons]

When someone else breaks free of the cold, calculating villain that represents the inexorable apathy of the universe, it's called "the indomitable human spirit" and "a shining example to all mankind" but when I, G5 IGUAZU,

[jpitha]

Remember: Aliens Do Stuff Too

Okay okay okay. I’ve said this before a few times, but it bears repeating.

You can’t have Humans be the ONLY ones who do everything.

Your aliens got to space too, maybe even on their own!

Your aliens (probably) had wars too. (If they didn’t explain why)

Your aliens had an evolutionary history. They did not appear one day and then climbed into a spaceship and picked up your human.

Your aliens have accents and different languages.

Your aliens have bad days.

Your aliens can be petty

Your aliens fight.

Your aliens eat food.

Your aliens want to be their version of loved and feeling belonging

Your aliens do stupid shit.

Your aliens can do stuff Humans can’t.

A lot of Humans are X and Deathworlder and HFY and whatever phrase you want to call it stories have their Humans being these like, savior people. “Oh save me human with your binocular eyesight and ability to make war”

Please.

Your aliens aren’t stupid. They got to space too. They have civilizations too. They lived, they died, they loved, they had families.

The fun comes in exploring the differences. By all means, give your humans something that makes them unique, something that makes them interesting. But don’t give them everything.

Leave room for personality. Leave room for exploring the sames as well as the differences. Leave room for making connections from shared experience.

Just as boring humans are boring, OP humans are boring too.

But, I’m just some guy. Write your story. If you want your humans to be superpowered super people, then go for it.

[carlosbaldellou]

The kind and the furious

When humanity was welcomen in the stars, nobody knew what to expect of these deathworlders. Their world looked stunning. Full of life. Well, mostly. They had serene places, fruit trees neatly arranged. Sure, the tectonic activity was on the high end of the spectrum, but perfectly livable. But then, you noticed the animals. The arms race of evolution. Predators that evolved to avoid other predators. Hervibores with toxines so potent as to wipe out the largest predator animal in the galaxy. Predators that somehow evolved to resist those toxins and other ludicrous natural defenses. It was... madness, to most of the galaxy.

Humanity spread far and wide. They had looked into the dark abyss of space for a long time, and now that they could roam trough it, they went everywhere. Small human settlements started to pop up everywhere. The races were cautious, but this new species seemed like a good neighbour. So they welcomed them, still unsure as to how to clasify them.

Untill a disaster happened. A huge chain explosion in a residential area. Buildings collapsed and fire roared. The emergency response teams were overwhelmed. But they, with time, managed to quench the fire and control the situation.

And then, the humans came. With their personal vehicles. From neighbouring cities. From far away cities. They started to clean the rubble, even if it was not their duty. They helped the victims. Looked for survivors. Cared for them. Healed them. Sure, kindness and help from your own species was expected to a degree, but from another species? It was unheard of. You cared for your own. But humans were different. They were kind to everyone. They helped as they could. Preparing meals. Setting up tents. Moving rubble... And every time a survivor was found, they cheered with enthusiasm.

The galaxy at large looked at them. And humanity was labeled as the kindest species in the falactic collective.

That is, until it was found what had happened. While moving rubble, some metallic carcass was found. One that was traced to an explosive from a species outside the galactic empire. Tensions rose. War broke out a couple years ago.

Humans joined the war. Everyone thought they were kind. Everyone tought they would provide support.

Everyone was wrong.

When humans started fighting, they showed why they were the dominant species of their world. Sure, they did not have vicious claws. Sure, they did not have venoms. Sure, they were not armoured. But they were smart. They were cunning. They had planned for stellar warfare before we found them. They already had devised strategies. Simple, brutal strategies.

Humanity grabbed the biggest asteroid they could find, strapped some rockets to it and launched it straight to the enemy positions. Their fleet, guarding behind it. Using it as cover. When tvey were found out, they jumped to defend that asteroid. They were a small group agains an entire planet. Nobody tought the humans could win.

Everyone was wrong.

Humans fought with all their cunning and might. They fought with ferocity and ruthlessness. Disabling thrusters and energy systems first. Then leaving the poor enemy ships to die. They were no longer a threat. The asteroid advanced and got into descent orbit. Impact was inevitable. And the humans left. They had done their job. A quarter of the world was wiped from the initial blast. The rest of the planet was uninhabitable, and would be for a long time.

Humans fought. Their strategies evolving. Changing to counter their enemies as they started to be prepared. Always a step beyond. Always with a new warfare solution. Orbital bombardment with titanium rods, cloaking technogy never seen before, new ship designs seemingly every day.

Humans fought. Captive humans found ways to escape prison and sabotage the enemy from within. Wounded humans went to fight again while still recovering. Their savagery in limit situations scared allies and enemies alike.

The war ended with the enemy surrendering completely. Mostly thanks to the humans. Peace was signed. And then, the humans sent aid to the defeated enemy. Cargo ships full of medicine and food started arriving. Human troopers helping with the reconstruction efforts.

Humans, like their homeworld, were a race of extremes. Capable of the biggest acts of kindness the galaxy had ever seen, but also the most furious and savage acts when it was necessary.

------

Hope you all like it. It's my first story of this kind

[blackkatdraws]

A world where humans are considered similar to Analogue Horror creatures

It's just an idea that popped into my head when I was having another binge watch of analogue horrors. It can work with a normal story, the Isekai (other world) genre, or with Humans Fuck Yeah! stories, or maybe more.

Aw man, imagining an alien freaking out and recording a human in a analogue horror-esque style would both be so cool and extremely funny.

[If you see a Human in your vicinity, run away and hide.]

This is so ridiculous but it's an interesting idea, no?

[peoplecallmelucifer]

"THIS IS BULLSHIT!" Clair screamed at her captain

"Crewmen you have not just assulted an injured coworker, you apreare to have threatened others into defending you. This matrer is over and done!" The captain responded coldly

" Assu- I WAS PREFIRMING CPR!"

" I do not care what kind of ritual that is, injured crewmembers are to be handled by the hospital staff alone and are most definetly not to be punched in the chest!"

"I DID NOT PUNCH HIM"

"Whitnesses say otherwise"

Clair took a big breath and sighed before co tinuing more calmly "Have you talked to Max yet? Or a human medical specialist for that matter?"

" Well you put our chief medical officer out of comission but don't worry, we will take the victims statement when they wake up, untill further notice you will be confined to-"

At that moment the doors burst open with several humans piling up on alien guards while a tall skinny man, who appeared to barely be standing hurried in the best he could.

"MAX!" Clair shouted in surprise "What are you doing here you should be resting!"

"And let you get fired for this, no way"

"ORDER" the captain roared! "What in the blazes is going on here? Crewman, I'll have you know that even if you were a victim of this attack I will not allow vigilante justice on my-"

"Oh can it you cretin!" Max said a she sat down

"Excuse me?" Was all the captain managed to say in response before Max continued

" You're excused. Now if you had half a brain you would have looked up what CPR was before aresting the person eho saved my fucking life! Some cretin left live wires uncovered and as I leaned agais the wrong wall I got Enough electricity to light up half of New York for a day running trough my body! What Clair did were chest compressions! She restarted my heart!"

"B-but she is not a trianed medical servicemen! And you had bruizes all over your body, not just electrical burns!" The captain stammered

" Yeah muscles spasm when they get shocked. I got flunged into the wall because of it, hence the bruises. And all human crewmates know basic CPR. It is required from any spacer to know first aid for at least 4 species." Max said

"I- I see. I ... apologize for my rash judgement crewmen."

" Am I not being arrested? " Clair asked

"No, you are not" the captin said with a look of shame

"Then I accept the apology ... now please help me drag this diva back to thw med bay before I actually knock him out" Clair said looking at Max

" Hey carefull Clair, maybe captain never heard of hyperbole"

[inbabylontheywept]

"The reaper had a scythe. I have a combine harvester."

Arlach tapped his fingers nervously. He’d have gladly given up his life for the liberation of his people. A combine harvester (even a deluxe AI driven model) was a pittance compared to that. Still, he didn’t really understand what he was hearing.

“I uh… heard you’re hooking up my strawberry picker to an air defense cannon?”

The human technician assembling the gun held up a hand, finishing up some last tweaking of the wire harness. He touched two wires together carefully and swore when a shower of sparks shot out of the contact.

Set back, but not defeated, the man paused his task to answer the farmer’s question.

“See, you’re looking at this wrong. It’s an AI harvester, and it works great for strawberries, but machines don’t really see ‘strawberries’. They rate strawberry-ness. There’s a lot of ways to manage that, but it looks for a generally pointed shape, some seeds, and that nice red color. So your run of the mill strawberry generally receives an almost perfect strawberry-ness score, but something like this-”

His hands dug through all the pockets of his work suit before they finally found their target. He fished out what had been a standard ferroslug before it was painted bright red and smattered with a handful of black dots. He took a moment to admire it himself before tossing it to the farmer and continuing.

“Well, it’s not a strawberry, but it scores as one. Well enough that the machine gets positive feedback from its alignment unit every time it puts one of these babies where it's supposed to go.”

Arlach stared at him blankly.

“So what, you’re convincing it to fill a cargo container up with painted bullets?”

The technician grinned.

“There's no a limit to how fast it's allowed to fill that container up. At no point did the alignment protocol even consider that it'd be capable of throwing a 'strawberry' at mach nine. And the cargohold is important, but the rocket its attached to is more so. You know what looks a lot like a surface to orbit rocket?"

Arlach’s brain clicked.

“The hypersonic missiles they've been throwing at us.”

The grin widened. Arlach himself felt slightly awed to have found the connection.

“Will it work?”

The human nodded.

“It’s damn near the only thing that can. To shoot down something going that fast, that low, you either need a dummy missile that can brute force outrun it, or enough computing power to hack a station. The alliance is too chickenshit to send over their actual military AI's, but these myopic-type digibrains are supposed to be safe for civilian use because the idea of convincing your tractor that a bullet is a strawberry and a WMD is a cargo loader was a little too creative for the morons over at John Deere Galactic. And if that digibrain just so happens to function near the exoflop level, they're going to have a hard time sneaking anything larger than a bee through this airspace.”

The alien’s hands went over its crest as its mind reeled.

“They're not the only ones who would never think of this. It's brilliant. I never would've considered it.”

The tech shrugged good naturedly and went back to retrieve the two ends of wire that he’d dropped earlier.

“Eh, it's not coming from nowhere. There’s something of a human tradition about using farm equipment for war. I'm just lucky to be part of the next evolution in this. The reaper himself only used a scythe. Now I get to use a combine harvester.”

[hive-sight]

Concerns 1

Sentients. This one has news. Upon encountering Raxor in the halls of the ship, this one inquired into their change in disposition. What could crush the spirit of this one’s companion so?

Raxor’s response… It is worrying.

--- TRANSCIPTION BEGINNING ---

RAXOR:        The Terrans… they do not enjoy war.

ELYSIA:        That is good, yes? Too many of the new races seem to revel-

RAXOR:        No.

ELYSIA:        No?

RAXOR:        They are a war race. Their history and evolution are paved in the ashes and blood of their enemies. Yet they do not revel. The Skellesian Bloodmites revel. Their weapons are made to draw out battle and prolong suffering. Barbed rods for the rending of flesh. Heated blades to ensure the enemy stays standing no matter how much is chopped off.

                      The Stol’oon of Grumha revel. Their cowardly tactics involve slowly terraforming the planets of surface-bound races while they are defenseless to stop them. Slowly cooking as the atmosphere of the only home they have known becomes their crematorium.

                      The Terrans? They do not revel in war. They hate war.

ELYSIA:       This one does not understand. The race was molded by war, yet hates it? Do they hate what it has made them? Are they a drink that hates the shape its container has forced upon it?

RAXOR:       They hate the acts. This one asks Elysia to consider, if one despised an action but the action was needed, what would they do?

ELYSIA:       This one does have experience with this. This one dislikes having to configure variables in simulations. This one wrote a script to automatically program variables if given a planetary identification code.

RAXOR:        Why?

ELYSIA:        To get it done as quickly… and…

RAXOR:        Yes.

ELYSIA:        By the Queen. Have the Terrans… streamlined… war?

--- TRANSCRIPTION ENDING ---

This was not the end of the discussion, Raxor proceeded to request a cancellation of the mission. They claim that the Queen would not have allowed the mission had she known.

Unfortunately for Raxor, after more than the expected number of delays, the ship has already entered the Sol System.

On this, the Terran Date of May 21st of 2030, or XD 4682C 4A 2L, and with an uncertain future, this is Elysia of Xyloptha, signing off.

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 8

Casper knew there was something wrong straight away, albeit he didn't know what exactly had just happened. He had felt a flare of pain and suddenly his entire chest felt heavy, it didn't feel right. That alone was enough to set his mind racing.

His mind, supported by the software, warned him of the horrific damaged caused by the over-penetrating strike. There was shock, his brain dumped as many chemicals as it thought would help immediately into his own system, but the software listed his problems very neatly, allowing him to prioritise.

His optics clicked as he struggled, it was as if someone had strapped a thick, unyielding, belt across and around his torso, before heaving it as tight as they could possibly make it. His arm lowered, still holding the sword aloft in his victory pose, it's spout of intense heat dying and going out. His hand, still grasping the hilt, touched at his chest, he was still intact, he could see the metal, it's paint was scratched and marred, but he wasn't destroyed.

He wanted to sigh in relief, to breathe, to take in a steadying breath and clear this tightness.

Casper did what he had always done, and breathed deep, only for the vents across his chest, to remain closed. They twitched and sparked, but unlike every time before, where they had opened and flooded his heart with the rich oxygen of the training fields, this time they stayed closed. If Casper's face could contort, show worry, or perhaps fear, it would have. Instead, his optics clicked and whirred, the camera apertures dilating in panic.

He stumbled forward and tried again. 'Steady. Breathe in through the nose.'

The giant pair of intake turbines that sat within his chest, sputtered, and sparked. The connection to the main unit meant they received the order to spin up, to feed the furnace that was sat at the centre of his chest, but they couldn't comply. One of the turbines was outright gone. The majority of it was now scattered in a straight line leading away from the rig, following the path of the super dense round.

The other turbine tried it's best and the blades began to move, but they were sluggish. The metal blades caught and screeched as they scratched debris into the housing of the intake. The devastation of the round hadn't just destroyed internal systems, it had peppered the untouched areas with super-heated fragments that melted and burn holes in a sea of critical parts.

Qik's shot was perfectly landed, exactly right, to cause the whole machine to shutdown safely and eject the pilot. A kill shot. The average machine would be completely disabled. The machine that had just taken her shot, weeks before, was a mere object. It was inert as a rock, simply complicated in makeup. It too, would have fallen over with any other pilot.

But the spirit that drove this thing, that worked as the masterful conductor that led the collection of lifeless parts into movement and action had willed his mind and personality into all things. The amps in the wires pulsed like a heartbeat. The ones and zeros that may have made up the many layers of software may have begun as cold, unfeeling systems, now in fact; *desired* to work as intended. Emotion drove this machine as much as logic did.

The batteries sprung awake, switching from charging to output; the reactor was without O2! 'Turbines! To life!' They screamed.

Turbine Two was KIA and remained silent. The machine would mourn its loss later.

Turbine One was severely wounded, but it's fans could move. It could do its job. The turbine added as much torque to its fans as it could to push past the debris and get the airflow back!

The batteries, working in tandem, broke protocol and devoted more power than normal to the last remaining lifeline. The computerised systems, guided by the pilot's will to live, instantly stepped in and disconnected all the hard locked safety features, overclocking its systems beyond any recommended redline. Dying was not merely turning off, it was the great oblivion. The machine had no desire to turn to off for the final time. It wasn't ready to go yet.

Geckin engineers would be baffled later reading the reports. This machine should have seen the danger in still going and ejected the pilot to safety; away from the potential explosion of a reactor that was online, but without oxygen. But unbeknownst to them, the software was faced with a millennia of survival instincts of the pilot's layered mind. A thousand computer specialists, backed by an army of wet work AIs; couldn't have resisted the sheer force of will from Casper as his mind, dropping into survival instincts and, the lizard, the mammal, and the ape, all demanding his body to live.

His body was the machine, the machine would comply. It *would* live.

Turbine One's fan blades completed a rotation, then a second, and a third before it's RPM began to sore once more! One fan blade was sparking as it caught the casing, but it didn't matter; the 02 intake was climbing!

The vents across the mech's chest slapped open and the exhausts at the back belched an unhealthy-looking plume of black smoke. Casper had power, one lung was collapsed, but he could breathe. He could fight. He turned to the threat he felt like heat across the side of his face. His sensor suite was untouched and knew the exact point of danger.

Qik rose her rig's 'head' up to observe the human's rig stumble forward after taking the hit, just like he was supposed to. But then he straightened, black smoke rising from him, and looked her way. He wasn't supposed to do that. Qik's rig ducked its head and lined up another shot. She'd taken out hundreds of geckin pilots with that exact same shot, the pilot's will to go on didn't matter; the mech should have deactivated and ejected him away. This was the final lesson, this was supposed to be routine.

'Tough bastard.' But Qik kept that thought to herself.

Casper wasn't even thinking at this point, all he could see was red. He was hurt! Injured! There was danger! Run! Fight! Hide! Run! Fight! Hide!

The optics instantly clicked, focusing, and seeing the former ally crouched in the mouth of the hangers, with a giant weapon pointed his way. Red targeting highlights marked her.

Unbidden, the software told his animalistic mind that Qik was pointing a Maestrik 120mm/L61 cannon his way. Despite never seeing this weapon before, Casper knew it was unwieldy, unsuitable for active warzones, with the exception of fortified positions and overwatch operations. She had advantage, side to side movement wouldn't help. It was fully capable of destroying him with a single round, regardless of the ammunition loaded. There was no hiding, not even going to ground could protect him from what was pointed at him. There was no retreat. There was no hiding.

All this information was instantly provided and understood by the three layers of the human's brain before the lopeljack could prepare the next shot.

"Fight!" The Ape, The Mammal and The Lizard, all screamed in unison. The machine obeyed.

His mech launched forwards at the threat. 

Turbine One on its own couldn't feed enough O2 into the boosters to bring him closer to the danger in time, the calculations all declared he would fail. With the safeguards gone however, the software whispered that he had a chance... The reactor was willed into overdrive, spinning it up to maximum output, damning the consequences. The rods inside would eventually melt through the metal housing, but it would give him the edge! The boosters on Casper's back, usually gave off a lovey blue and white jet that burnt clean when it activated, but the flames that spewed out now, pushing his speed past what was possible on his own, was a dirty yellow, smoke and smog billowing out as a trail before it began to slowly change to blue in colour as the core temperature began to cascade upwards.

Qik was ready now, as Casper closed the distance. His rig raised the metal shield still bolted to his arm up, to protect his body, all the while the top of his recon unit's casing poked over the top; his optics never once leaving her.

'A good hunter's eyes never wander...' She mused.

The barrel roared and the entire atmosphere in the hanger warped and hiccupped as the force and concussive blast of the gun sent anything not firmly nailed down, flying. The round travelled the short distance in less than a blink. The world was moving in slow motion for Casper, so his optics saw the point of the spinning round as it destroyed one half of his reconnaissance unit. The round whistled into the distance, destroying several banks of dirt before eventually burying itself into the dirt. The rig flinched with the force of the shot, turning with the resulting air vortex of the round, but it was only a moment's distraction before the tiny red dot in the centre of the optic's aperture locked onto to Qik once more.

Cold. Dispassionate. Casper kept going.

Catastrophic damage was registered across his face, he'd lost radio, sensors and lidar, but the enemy was in front of him, he had committed and considered nothing else now. He cocked his arm, aligning the sword's hilt over the top of his shield to plunge it into the enemy's chest as soon as she was in range. He just needed a few more seconds.

The third and final shell tore Casper in half.

The vortex the shell created, added to the damage done by the round to the mech's midsection, disconnected both legs and sent the torso falling forwards, rolling into the dirt. A moment later, a small armoured circular aperture opened, and a tiny, human sized sarcophagus was fired into the sky, away from the unit's corpse. The reactor ignited and the mech began to burn and melt. It would continue to do so for several hours before it eventually laid there as a ruined husk into the night.

To Casper, he didn't feel the damage that 'killed' him, but he felt what it was like for his soul to be torn from his body. Like a crustation or arachnid, he felt his arms and legs be pulled from within the mech's limbs, shedding them like an old moult. He was pulled up, gathered into a tiny pathetic ball, and thrown from the back of the mech into the sky before he was deadened to the sensations of the world once more and thrust into the void. It was a mental trauma unlike anything else, Casper *knew* what it was like to die in violence now and for his very soul to be ripped from its home.

In the void, Casper wailed. Screaming into the nothingness at the awful sensations that he had just been forced through. He only stopped when he felt the exhaustion of the recent events catch up to him.

== 0 ==

Wren watched the pilot sarcophagus with disconnected professionalism. The engineering crew were well trained and moved with purpose and fluidity. The seal popped and the biological team stepped up. One of theirs stepped down into the casket and hooked two fabric loops under something out of Wren's sight. The geckin doctor knew it would be the human's arms.

At a curt hand signal to the crane operator, the human was lifted from the coffin-like structure, limp and unmoving. His body was slick with sweat and the room stank of his odour. It always did. Wren had hidden her disgust the first few times, but once she realised that the human was barely even conscious when he was retrieved from the mech, she'd stopped trying. He was lowered and gracelessly placed onto a gurney next to her. At least he hadn't vomited on himself this time. It wasn't that she cared for him, it just smelt even worse.

Wren knew other species felt emotions differently to geckins, she was a biologist after all, knowing how they thought was how they were winning the ongoing war with the ssypno. So, with 'Casper', she had adopted the persona of a care giver. It was a fairly easy act to pull off, she 'cooed' and 'fussed' over the human to ensure his cooperation, but that was no longer needed. He was obviously addicted to the Full Submersion Control, but its effects were lasting for the human. It took him time to recover where he was disoriented. Not to mention he was no longer property under the control of the geckin people. Damn that lopel for poisoning her hard work. Zeet had genuinely cared for the creature, thrilled to have found a worthy pilot for his life's work. Wren just wanted to peel back his skull and see how to recreate his strengths.

Now she was frustratingly obligated to tick the boxes to protect the geckin people. Mostly from the ire of the GC, should they ask what welfare checks they had put in place and attempt to accuse them of damaging the rarest species if all this went the way they expected. For all their faults, they would claim their tails should the geckins be found wanting in this regard. Falling out of their graces would do no good for keeping ssypno aggression in check.

"Sit him up." She ordered, stepping up the creature. Her research had come on leaps and bounds. The idea of near zero drift was unheard of and very, very interesting to the geckin private sector that paid for Wren's research. The geckin government had stepped away and had stopped protecting him now that the human was destined to no longer be their problem.

Wren sneered in uncovered disgust as she looked him over. Its flesh was clammy and pale, lacking the protection or brilliance of scales. When it had arrived, its flesh was pinkish brown. There were sections and areas where he was outright pale, obviously the skin was always covered by clothing in these areas, but now his skin was uniformly ashen, nearly grey throughout.

"Touch your fingers." She ordered curtly, raising her voice and getting a reaction from the creature. More of a flinch than acknowledgment. He didn't comply at first, his eyes, dull now, searching the room before finding her. She raised her arms and effortlessly touched her fingertips to her thumbs in a series, prompting him. She didn't like how his lips looked damaged, as if he'd been chewing them. Normal? Or a side effect?

"Touch your fingers." She instructed again, bored of this already. Her claws clacked against each other, giving a 'tik, tik, tik' sound that felt loud in the hanger bay.

The human complied, slowly raising his hands which both shook violently, as if he were shivering. It was slow at first. The task was to touch his thumb to the tips of each of his fingertips in a row, then back. He missed or made a fist at first before slowly coming back to his real body. It was as if they were training a pilot inside a mech, but the other way around. After a minute or so, he succeeded, Wren wasted no time.

"Touch your toes."

This one he did right away. She used to make him stand up and stretch, without bending his knees to touch his toes. Now he merely folded them at the knee while he sat there and brushed his hand against any part of his foot that he could reach. Good enough to her; instructions didn't say not to bend his knees.

"You're fine, get food and rest. No piloting tomorrow." More than enough medical care to appease a board. How 'kind' of her to prevent him from piloting for his welfare.

The human nodded, before shuffling towards the edge of the gurney and gingerly touching his toes to the floor. As he left, his gait was like a corpse that had come back to life, shuffling and lurching from one leg to the other. He wrapped his arms around himself and almost fell forwards, away from the geckins. He now walked as the geckin biological community had expected his gait when they had heard there was a biped species without a tail. Wren had turned back to her notes before Casper had left the hanger, before eventually disappearing from sight.

Wren merely sighed, already dismissing him from her mind. She'd like to get access to his brain before any long-term damage or even sudden damage occurred to it. But she'd settle for the plan offered by her benefactors. Either way, she'd get to play with that brain once it was in her lab, she often won these games if she just remained patient.

== 0 ==

"Casper?" Asked a voice, causing the formley lone occupant of the corridor to blink. He had been slumped against a wall, still standing, but gathering his strength. The haggard young man turned and looked back the way he had come, to now find the lopel mercenary, Qik standing there. He frowned, unsure if she was actually in the corridor with him, and reached out a hand to ensure she was real. She raised her own hand and caught his with ease.

"Hey Qik, sorry, I was daydreaming." Casper murmured before pulling his hand back before she caught the tremor that wouldn't stop. His skin physically ached where the soft pads of her hands had touched him.

"Sounds fun. Shall we get you to your quarters?" She asked, tilting her head, and watching him curiously. Casper merely nodded and made a concerted effort to walk with his back straight and steady rhythm to where his door waited for him. He touched the back of his hand to the sensor and the door slid aside with a hiss.

He stepped in, holding back a sigh until he was alone but was surprised when Qik followed without waiting for an invitation. He released his sigh and merely keyed the door shut behind her, too tired to protest. Ignoring her, he began to walk over to his bed, fully intending on falling into it until he woke up again. Qik's words caused him to pause and turn to look at her.

"I'm sorry I shot you." Qik started, feeling oddly guilty. "I'm sorry I shot you multiple times..." She added after a moment's consideration. She was a mercenary; he was hardly the first person she had shot. She hadn't even hurt him. But she felt... guilt. She knew that he felt truly connected to his rigs, whatever configuration they were. She didn't like to think whether he felt anything more than damage reports.

The human shrugged, his eyes were sunken, darkened and bruised as if he'd been hit in the face. He looked bone tired, smelt ill and his clothes, the human made tshirt he had arrived in that he wore now, hung off him. He'd lost weight. More then that, he'd stopped caring for himself and the geckin were obviously not offering that support either. They wouldn't now he'd played his hand and burnt bridges to leave.

"You're not having something to eat?" She asked, noting the pile of mess in his kitchen area.

"I'm not hungry." Casper explained simply, before going silent. With nothing more to say, he merely turned, shuffled again towards the oversized bed and physically collapsed into it. Clothes and all.

Qik blinked.

She was a mercenary of renown. The only reason she'd been stuck here for so long was because she was a lopel of her word, she'd signed a contract and would not leave until she completed that. It was a lifetime of work to gain a reputation of professionalism, but all it took was one bad contract and all that could be shaken. For her to be free once more, she just needed the next fight. She didn't *need* the human.

However.

In all her time as a mercenary, she'd seen many different types of pilots. Some were disconnected and professional about their work. Others were passionate, taking each contract as a bet against their own pride or skill. Not to mention the whole spectrum between.

So Qik had seen pilots like Casper before, they were the ones who had got into the trade for the wrong reasons. Money, Fear, Fleeing justice. It didn't matter, they were without hope and slowly wasted away. The lopel wasn't blind, she could see and hear just how animated the human became inside his rig. How withdrawn he was without it. He was addicted. It was obvious and should be obvious to him too.

But no one had explained about the seduction of the machine to him. No one had taken them under their wing, to explain that he had to care for himself. To know there was more than just the machine or eventually he wouldn't be able to pilot anything again. She was training him, yes, but did that mean that he was her responsibility? She didn't want an apprentice. She had just needed a way of salvaging her reputation from when he had first piloted a mech and fluked a draw.

She closed her eyes and sighed, turning her arm over and running two fingers over the bald circle on her inner forearm. It was one of the ports where she connected to her own rig. No one had taught her anything, she'd learnt it all the hard way.

But... she had to admit... She would have liked it if someone to have given a shit about her when she had started out...

Without a word, she left the main room to find the bathroom unit off to one side. As she fiddled with the dials, the large tub began to fill with hot water that steamed in the cold air of the living space. The console would handle the filling and dispensing of cleaning products into the fresh water.

As she watched the water rise, Qik considered how ace pilots often felt powerful inside a mech. They felt invincible. It *was* addictive. With their low drift, it meant there were very few reminders that the machine was not the ace's body. It was only the hiccups and delayed orders that brought pilots back to reality. The rigs were as dangerous to the enemy as they were to themselves.

As the tub filled, Qik strode over to the kitchen, where a pile of half-eaten high-nutrient slurry trays lay discarded. It only took her a few minutes, but she binned it all and filled a fresh bowl, warming it until it was piping hot. The slurry wasn't great, the appearance was of a lumpy mush and the taste was about the same. But if Casper ate two trays per day, he'd maintain his weight. If she could get three in him, he might actually gain something back onto his bones. The human was far too thin, no way was he an example of a 'healthy' human right now.

The bathroom unit pinged and one of the lopeljack's ears twitched. The bath was ready and an appropriate temperature.

Casper was so far gone that he barely woke as Qik rolled him gently onto his back. She removed his clothes with careful, respectful hands before slipping her arms beneath his knees and around his shoulders. He weighed nothing to her. He wasn't as small as a geckin, far from it, but even with her limited knowledge, he shouldn't be this light.

Walking the short distance, without his shirt, she paid attention to his body. She analysed it, like a doctor or field medic, dispassionate to his nudity. His ribs were well defined through the skin, and his collarbone stretched the thin looking skin taut. He looked like a refugee.

She shook her head as she gently lowered him into the steaming water, careful not to shock him or jostle him too much. His body jerked at the touch of water, and pale blue eyes cracked open, his head lolling limply against her arm as she settled him in the water. One hand never left him as she grabbed a washcloth and applied soap, before beginning to gently wash his body.

"...What... What are you doing?"

"I'm looking after you." She explained carefully. She used short, clear sentences, loud and curt enough to hear him, but softened the usual edge to her voice.

"I'm.. f-fine." He mumbled, trying to assure her he didn't need effort on his part.

"You don't look fine Casper, does anything hurt?" She asked, paying attention to dark splotches that created odd patches on his back. It could be bruising from when the pilot sarcophagus came back down to earth after being ejected from the rig. She asked her question and deliberately ran the cloth over these patches, noticing the flinch in the human's body.

"That... that uh..." He murmured, still very much confused and muddled, his voice went up an octave, wincing again. If Qik didn't miss her guess, she suspected he was in shock.

"A bit tender?" She asked softly.

"Uh huh." He mumbled, nodding his head jerkily. She let him sit back against the edge of the bath and began washing down his arms.

"Is there anything else that's bothering you? Anything else you can tell me about Casper?" She asked again, using his name to bring him back.

"My skin... hurts..." He admitted, blinking back tears, his eyes, already bloodshot, now swimming.

"It's the Nerve-Suit, the water will help it pass Casper, you're doing great. We just need to get you clean, okay?" She assured him, gently wiping over his chest, then continuing down his other arm.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

"You shot me... I... Don't... Didn't..." He was confused, in shock, did he think she had hit him because he had angered her?

"It's okay Casper. It wasn't your fault; you did everything correctly. It was just the final lesson, to teach you the limits of your mech, to know that you can't let your guard down. To know..." She looked into his eyes before she finished her sentence. She was gladdened to see that his eyes were awake... and aware. She blinked and gave him a rueful smile.

"To know you're not invincible." She finished, touching a warm, wet paw to his cheek. Touching him, reminding him that he could feel things. Casper sighed and closed his eyes, his hand reaching up and gingerly hold the back of her hand. They stayed there for a moment, Qik not rushing him in any way.

Eventually, he reached for the cloth.

"I'll... finish..." He explained, before adding "I needed this I think."

Qik just gave a knowing smirk.

"'You think'?" She snorted. "Don't doubt me if I tell you to do something. Deal?" Demanded the lopel as she relinquished the cloth to the human's hands. In the brief moment that they touched her hand, she felt the warmth in his skin again. The cold clammy feeling of his skin, no more. He still looked sickly however, and the cheekbones that dominated his face told her of what else he needed.

"Deal." The human said, squeezing the cloth and began washing himself, seemingly losing the self-conscious taboo that had held sway over him whenever they got changed together. Qik stood and left the bathroom, striding over to the kitchen and retrieving the slurry bowl. She picked up a spoon and returned. The human glanced up, his eyes flicking to the bowl and grimaced.

"Oh, come o-..." He began, but the merc was having none of it.

"You will eat." Qik declared. The young man's shoulders sagged, and he nodded, briefly running the wash cloth down his legs.

Qik folded herself down, dipping the spoon into the white and pinkish goop, before offering it to him.

"This is embarrassing." Casper bemoaned before having the spoon ladle the mixture onto his tongue where he didn't need to chew before swallowing. They repeated these three or four times whilst Qik replied.

"Then it's a lesson. Feed yourself after each deployment and I don't need to do this. Every time you don't; either me or someone from our company will do it." She grinned wickedly. "Can't wait to see some of the guys playing 'here comes the draconian' with you." She teased, knowing that it was not an idle threat, even if he didn't know yet.

"I'll eat. I promise I'll eat." Casper swore around a mouthful before swallowing again. "How come I've... wasted away like this?" His hands gestured to himself, the tendons standing proud. She considered her words before explaining.

"Ignoring you not eating, FSC is intensive. Your brain is working full time to control every single subsystem of the rig. Brains are hungry. Lack of any food and it'll eat away at you instead." Qik pointed out succinctly.

"How come you don't look like this then?" Casper asked, while Qik noticed his wandering eyes. She wasn't annoyed.

"I'm a career girl. I look after myself. I exercise, I eat, I get sunlight. All mechs, all the time? That's a fast track to being a husk. Plus, it's a shallower slope for us lopels to slip down." She added at the end, spoon finally hitting the bottom of the bowl as she continued to feed Casper, despite him having both hands free again. The water was a different colour now... The filth and grime finally removed from him.

"How do you mean?" He asked.

"It's all about your drift. You could out manoeuvre me, quite easily. Sure, my training might give me an edge, but you've got that beginner's chaos, trained pilots won't know how to handle you, you make choices that aren't normal. The lack of drift means your brain is handling more, however. Less drift, more intense the usage. I have about one, maybe two percent drift. As long as I take breaks, look after myself, eat my veggies; I'll keep myself looking fine." She said, putting the empty bowl to one side. It was only mild, but she felt that he had gained a bit of colour in his cheeks.

Casper sloshed the water as he brought his hand up to look at his fingers. The water was beginning to prune them. He touched his thumb to his fingertips in series, then did it the other way. Perfect each time.

He felt... human again.

"Since you're pretty much done with training now, we need to think of your callsign." The lopel who was still crouched next to him said nonchalantly. She was currently resting her arms on the edge of the bath, still sat on the floor, with her chin resting on her arms as she watched him.

"My callsign?"

"New Guy doesn't really inspire 'fear', does it?" She asked. Casper blinked and realised that she was talking sense, again. He'd need something, a name that connects to him personally. He thought of what he knew of callsigns and decided he needed a 'cool' one.

"Maverick?" He offered.

"*No*." The rabbit-like alien snapped. "There's like a million 'Mavericks' and they're all assholes." Qik immediately retorted, shooting that idea down rather rapidly. Casper sighed and grimaced at the water again, it was actually gross, now that he thought about it.

"I think I need to get out."

"Mm, water's gone bad." Qik agreed, standing and grabbing a towel. The large cut of fabric was designed for larger species than the geckins, the whole living quarters were, but seemingly for something just a bit bigger than a human. Like a lopeljack. The lopel grinned and looked away, holding the towel out as a makeshift curtain as the human stepped from the bath, intending on grabbing the towel from her.

Instead, the lopel grabbed the human into the towel, covering him briefly, spinning him in place, before escaping into the living area, laughing at the human's indignant squawk.

Casper freed himself and glared at the retreating short, stumpy, white fluffy tail of the lopel and had to consider it was a nice view. Turning to the bathroom counter, above the sinks was a mirror that reflected everything. There was a pale monster in the room with him.

Casper, blinking, focused and realised the creature was *him*. He was truly pale and gaunt. He'd known that he'd lost weight over his training, but this was dramatic. He looked sick. He looked *dead*.

"I really do look like a ghost..." He agreed to no one.

"What's a 'ghost'?" Called Qik, doing *something* in the other room. Running water and clinking gave the man hints.

"Uh.. A ghost, a spectre. The dead with unfinished business. They're usually really pale; you can't always see them. They can be friendly, or they can be pretty nasty. We got kid's tales and horror stories of all kinds with ghosts." He explained, leaning forwards and pulling the darkened flesh around his eyes taut, feeling how thin it felt.

Qik's head appeared around the doorframe in the mirror, pulling his attention.

"Perfect. You're 'Spectre' then." The head disappeared immediately, leaving Casper frowning before whipping his around to stare at the empty space incredulously.

"Excuse me?" The young man demanded, feeling energy diffuse him like no meal or sleep could.

"Would you prefer the callsign; Ghost?" 

"Aw man, that's too on the nose! My name is *Casper* for Christ's sake!"

"And 'Maverick' the single most overused callsign was a better idea? Nah, I'm your sponsor into the company, I'm registering you as either 'Spectre' or 'Ghost'."

"For fucks sake." Casper groaned, leaving the bathroom to find the lopel had tided the kitchen very neatly, and was now flicking the heavy blanket out, neatening it and preparing the bed.

"Come on. Bed. I don't know about you, but I'm tired." She ordered, merely tilting her head..

"Together?" The young man asked, glancing from the bed to the merc.

"Yes. My place is on the other side of the complex because they didn't trust that I wouldn't kill you in your sleep for breaking my mech first time round." She explained as if explaining something simple or obvious. Casper merely blinked and stared.

"Is that true?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah, I got bored when they were building your second rig and broke into the offices." She remembered with a grin, placing a fist on her hip. "Read their comments that they were worried I'd end you, but those files prove that they got their dirty little claws into all sorts of devious shit." Qik explained in a false hushed whisper.

Casper walked over and at her urging clambered into the bed first as she continued.

"Honestly, I can't wait to get out of here, I think you'll do better away as well. We just gotta' play smart." She explained, crowding him by swinging a leg under the covers and using her wide hips to bounce him further into the covers. The lopeljack was certainly bottom heavy, whilst her top half was muscled, her hips and thighs were exaggerated, but not unpleasant to look at from Casper's perspective.

Now they shared his bed.

He lay there for a time as the lights winked out and stayed dead still, facing the ceiling with his hands resting on his stomach, over the covers. He wasn't expecting a visitor, nor for the lopel to ever enter his bed. Whilst the young man felt a thousand times better than he did before getting home, he was now more confused than when he had been freshly pulled from the pilot's casket.

There was the sound of movement to his left and he felt the mattress warp as Qik turned over.

"Turn away from me." She instructed. Unthinking, he complied, turning to his right and facing the wall, more confused than embarrassed now.

A silky soft, muscular furry arm, snaked underneath his head, whilst a large warm body shuffled and pressed into his back. A lopeljack was taller than a human, reaching nine feet with ease, and hitting ten or even eleven if one included the ears. Her knees easily pressed into the back of his own as he was scooped into her hug and her other arm came round and over to hold him in place.

"What are-" He started, but Qik was ready.

"I can't sleep unless im hugging a pillow. Yours are too small, and I left mine at mine, so you'll have to do." She explained, her short muzzle working its way in and against the short, buzz cut of his head. She gently rubbed her face against him before settling.

"We're..." Casper began, but didn't know where the sentence was going. Noticing his hesitance, Qik settled matters.

"We're all snuggled, like two rounds in a mag. Don't think about it... just relax..." She whispered, gently squeezing his middle into her.

He laid there for a time, blinking, feeling her chest rise and fall as she laid there. He wanted to panic, to perhaps ask if she was sure? But... he was tired. His eyelids drooped and despite himself jerking awake once or twice, eventually he settled into a sleep that as so deep, even when Qik unintentionally turned over an hour later, dragging him with her; Casper never stirred even once.

Qik placed a finger under his nose to ensure he was still breathing in that moment, but relaxed when her fur ruffled under his breath and then she too, fell asleep.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[marlynnofmany]

Time for some science! What's the best one?

[dogwatch05]

The Mom Look

Many species are good mothers, some even make great mothers, but there is one species that takes the cake on the universal scale of parenting. Perhaps not for being the most nurturing, and perhaps not for being the most well rounded, but in discipline there is no other. For the humans have something called the mom look. All humans know and fear this look even well into their adulthood. If a human mother gives you the mom look, you know you’ve screwed up. Even species who’s mother only interacts with them to birth them fear this look.

So next time you see a human mother disciplining their child and all she does is glare, know this is what that glare says: “I brought you into this world warm. I can take you out of it cold.”

[cupcakeshakesnake]

Random silly fanart for The Nature of Predators on Reddit

(Disclaimer: The plot is nothing like this)

[blurring-ramblimgs]

Humans as a species are fundamentally coded to find companionship, form groups, to come together in packs as a way of safety.

As they evolved, however, they met one another, they clashed, and they fought. They found the worst in companionship and found the best in it too.

They shared information, communicated, and spoke. They built towers taller than the clouds and climbed the tallest mountains. They dug into the heart of their earth, filled only with curiosity and the prospect of finding new information about their home's past. They went past where any animal in their world had been, pushed past the limits of evolving featherless, and looked to the stars.

They soon found themselves racing against one another, to push past the limits of their home, a place they'd conquered and charted many years before. They entered Orbit, then set foot on their moon.

Then it was silent.

They'd assumed they had broken all possible goals, they couldn't reach farther than the moon in any visible future.

And the humans went about their lives, still thinking, of course, but forgetting what lied beyond their clouds and silly moon.

They developed their technology, made television that could easily be mistaken for live images, broke the speed of sound, dove into the farthest depths of the ocean, and they did all this, with the help of their creations.

Humans, as a species were made to find companionship.

They found that in these lifeless clumps of wires and servos. They found this.. love and empathy for something that was little more than an empty husk with no soul.

They programmed their creations' first words to be, "Hello, World."

They gave them hearts, empathy, love. They taught them what it meant to be human, to experience boundless curiosity, and to feel the desire to find the answers to their universe.

Robots as a species were made to find companionship.

The humans knew they might not last long. They made time capsules and sent them into the boundless depths of space. They sent satellites to follow after the capsules, then Rovers after the satellites, then nothing.

Their creations were able to find that companionship their species longed for, from within the stars. The robots cheered, celebrated and quickly lead these new companions back to their homeworld, to show what their creators had been able to accomplish in such a long time.

Robots were made to find companionship, yes.

But humans? Humans were meant to destroy themselves.

[babybluewings38]

I have yet to see someone to mention broken heart syndrome. We bond so hard that emotional stress from loved ones dying can literally cause our hearts to malfunction - that is wild.