#please vast cosmos... be kind to me for once...

[myuntachi]

Yodaka Natsume Novel - Ten Nights of Dreams

The Fifth Dream

proofreading: aca, aera, niri, tsukimi

— Such was my dream. 

The world of the far, far future.

I was held captive in this world, having been charged with some serious crime after violating the laws of space-time travel. The details were unclear. I had no clue what I had done. I tried to remember, but I just couldn’t.

It was always like this. 

Incredibly important matters were always left forgotten; no matter how hard I tried, they would always slip through my fingers. There was something I was always hoping for, waiting for as I wandered aimlessly, akin to a wrecked spaceship left adrift in the cosmos. 

“Hey, Barkeep… No, Yodaka-san.”

Yuda stood on the other side of a glass partition. He stared at me intently with a pensive look on his face.

I raised my head and Yuda blinked, just once, tapping his fingers twice upon the table.

“You’ll get the death penalty at this rate. Are you really okay with that?”

It was inevitable. If it had already been decided, there was nothing that could be done.

Just one more time.

I want to meet them once more.

But, who?

… I couldn’t remember even that much.

“You can’t keep waiting for them. You and I, we’re going to live,” Yuda said. 

His voice was gentle in its invitation, his tone almost pleading. However, I could not accept this. 

“Please. If you’d just take my hand, I could save you.”

I knew that if I took Yuda’s hand, I certainly might be able to escape those vast worries and regrets. 

“This void of yours, your future, I’ll fill it all for you.”

“What do you say… Alright, I’ll wait for your answer, until dawn breaks and the birds sing.”

In that case, birds, I hope you never sing. 

“Ahhh… Yodaka-san reeeally is a wimp. Or, maybe you’re just stubborn?”

Indeed, with this forgetful brain of mine—

“If you’d just accept it, I could get you out of here.”

“Their” voice rang out as if delivering a divine message. 

“Ah…!”

”Cock-a-doodle dooooo~ It’s morniiiing. Well, actually it’s still pitch black outside, but it’ll be morning soon~.”

“...”

“The last customers went home while you were dozing off. Should we get to closing?”

The bar was empty, devoid of life. Instead, the subtle scent of alcohol, the aroma of the flowers Nagi had delivered, and the classic jazz Chouun was playing filled every corner of the room. 

“A bird… I see, so it was a chicken…”

“Ah, well, if you woke up from it, it must’ve been a rooster’s call.”

”I thought he was talking about a different kind of bird.”

“I guess you woulda preferred a pretty little cuckoo? You had another weird dream, huh.”

I gave a hesitant laugh; he was right on the mark. 

“I was in a far-off world of the future.”

“...... That so.”

For some reason, Yuda seemed at a loss for words, biting down on his lips. But after just a moment, he returned to his usual cheery self, smiling brightly.

“I don’t really dream much. Must be nice to get to see so many interesting things while ya snooze~”

That may be so. I'm sure there are people who'd enjoy experiencing an adventure in these dreams. But, my mind was filled by a void, and I often found myself unable to distinguish between dream and reality. 

The future and my memories always pass me by like flowing water, not stopping for anything.

"Perhaps it's even possible that ‘this here’ is a dream and ‘that over there’ is reality."

Yuda blinked, just once, and tapped his fingers twice upon the counter.

“Yeeah, yeah. Well, I don’t really get it. But doesn’t that just mean you’re the one who gets to pick which is which?”

“… That’s, true.”

”Why don’t you try deciding now? What’s a dream, and what’s reality, that is,” Yuda said with a laugh, but I just couldn’t bring myself to accept that right now.

“I’m not very good at making decisions. It’s a bad habit of mine, you know.” 

Every time I awaken, I find that the border between dream and reality becomes blurred. Standing on that border, I find myself in a constant loop of thinking and forgetting.

Reality is a dream, and dreams are reality.

Which was better? As for me, right now—

I still wasn’t sure.

[previous]

[puc-puggy]

Praying in the Dark by Perdita Finn

We are always praying in the dark. Most of the story of our souls before we were born into this life is a mystery to us. What lies before us is also a mystery. Our planet turns towards the darkness each day and spins in a galaxy that circles around dark matter. Most of the cosmos is dark matter—an no one, not even the physicists, knows what that is.

Civilization has offered us all kinds of illusory illuminations—from anthropocentric theologies to industrial technologies. None of which can tell us where we really come from, where we really are and where we might be going.

Once our ancestors took their guidance from the stars above them and the dirt beneath their feet. When you walk in the dark, you learn to feel the ground with your toes, your heels, your soul. The dead can see in the dark better than we can. But we must know where we want to go.

Those same ancestors carried embers with them, often wrapped in moss, to start a fire when they settled down for the night. That fire didn’t banish the darkness…it reminded them how vast it really was, even as it drew them close in a circle of warmth. Each of us holds those ancient embers in our hearts. To feel their warmth and be guided by their light we must give to them our attention and our breath. What do we want—truly, madly, deeply? What prayers did we carry with us into this life? What is the most precious prayer that we would wrap in moss and carry with us lifetime after lifetime?

A friend of mine once said that the real prayer for most Americans was “Please god let me continue to be able to drive to Walmart to buy more shit.” There are variations on this of course, some are ordering from Amazon at this point. But they all come down to the capitalist status quo—let human beings continue to dominate the planet. Let us not have to ask what we really want…and come to terms with who we really are. Only when we know the answer to our soul prayer can we know which stars to follow and where to put our feet. Only when we know what the embers are in our hearts that have been warm there for lifetimes can the dead help us get where we really want to go.

Someone will say that they want “peace” but what does that peace mean? Is that a peace that includes nations and empires that have always relied on extraction and war and slavery? Or are we praying for a peace that returns us to the long story of our souls? A young boy praying with me around a small fire in front of the fire last night told me that he never wanted to forget to touch the earth. Let me always remember to touch the earth. Let us always remember that the dirt of the earth is the very bodies of our ancestors and they are beneath us at every moment.

When we know what we want, we can begin to trust where the dead are leading us. That doesn’t mean the way will be easy or safe or that we will arrive where we long to go in a single lifetime or a single epoch. We may need to climb mountains and traverse swamps, cross oceans, and swim with sharks. But what the dead promise is us that they will hold us and guide us. We must know what it is we want to be able to feel that guidance, to trust and have faith in them even when we feel frightened. The dead are not frightened. They can see in the dark.

Today I am in the dark. I pray every morning the same heart prayer, Gather my kin close, my blood kin, my soul kin, my fur kin, my odd kin. Gather my kin close. Gather my kin close.

[saitama-division]

As the brightest orb in the sky was now leaning closer to the far horizon of Saitama city, the vast sky above the town was dyed in such enigmatic shades of pink, welcoming the special moment of a certain beloved butterfly mama of D.R.B. since today was apparently her birthday. And even if most of the trees here and there hadn’t yet changed their colors, it still couldn’t deny the fact that the new season after the summer gone had already begun…

Once along with plenty of thoughtful gifts being blessed to Miyuki residence, there was a parcel from a certain place far, faraway from Saitama lying still inside of the house’s mailbox.

Inside of it were a tidy roll of pink scarf which its rim decorated with flowery crochets internationally hand-made to resemble the cute and dainty cosmos flowers or the so-called “ 秋桜 ” (akizakura)’ of autumn.

And the scarf wasn’t not the only gift, there was also a pink paper bag packed with breads cutely stuffed with sweet cream and some fruities arranging after a certain cartoon character from ghibli movies

Looking on the side, there was a card attached along with the message written as such;

“To Miyuki-san of Saitama

First of all, hello Miyuki-san and let me wish you a happy birthday with some presents and regards from my division! And actually, my sister’s birthday is coincidentally on the same day as you too haha… But well, looks like the weather has turned a bit colder since it will soon be delving into the midst of autumn, doesn’t it? So, I think it would be great to keep our home warm and comfy during this period. Oh, and please don’t forget to take care of yourself as well! We hope you and your family will have a good time onwards in this year.

Sincerely,

Yuuya Kanata, Nara Division.”

“Oh nice, Yuuya and his team come up with some pretty cool gifts.” Kureha complimented as she sat on the table in the kitchen watching her mother prepare Yoshiko’s lunch for tomorrow, the brunette turned to her oldest daughter. “Oh, is he a friend of yours?”

“Not really, but I have heard of him, he was pretty popular at school and we only said hi to each other a few times before he graduated high school.” Kureha explained as she brought the bread rolls over to the older woman, earning a thankful smile in response.

“Well, that was kind of him, the weather is getting a bit more chilly so the scarf is going to come in handy and this bread looks so cute…hm…” After contemplating on it, Sayaka took one of the pieces and carefully placed it in Yoshiko’s lunch box, smiling in satisfaction, she wrapped the box up in a decorated cloth and placed it in the fridge for later, grabbing the plate with the remaining bread, she took another one for herself before handing out the last one towards Kureha silently asking if she wanted some. The artist looked at the plate for a second before shrugging and taking the last piece, the mother and daughter duo shared a smile and a light moment as they enjoyed each other’s company and feasted on some sweet treats.

Thank you for the gift!

[p-artsypants]

Blurb #15

I'm going to try to share 70 blurbs from my WIPs and unfinished fics to celebrate reaching 70 posted fics! To help with this endeavor, please feel free to send me a word or a fandom you know I write for, and I'll share the blurb. IDK if I'll get 70 prompts, but let's try it! Send as many as you want!

New Paris, the jewel of the stars. A luxury ship with only the finest crew for the most regal of clients. After all, not just any star ship could sail through the heavens. It took a Cracker Jack crew, led by an experienced captain to traverse the vast expanse of ever changing space. A hull ornately detailed with rich blue paint and gold leaf molding. Five ivory star-sails, only the most technologically advanced to propel the ship at hyper speeds. And three engines, bolstered with nuclear power that beat the cosmos into submission.

This was the pride of Andre Bourgeois, the ship’s captain.

This was to be Adrien Agreste and his father’s new home for the next six months.

It was daunting, but rarely was change in life not so.

Adrien stood at the dock of the station, staring up at the massive ship with nervous eyes and a quivering stomach.

“Take one last look at that place,” said his father’s cold tone. “It’s likely you will never see it again.”

‘That place’ being home. The colony on which he was born and raised. A beautiful place, with teeming gardens and mountains of crystals that glittered in the duel sunlight. His mother had loved it here in their quiet villa.

But now he was 21, and the rest of his life was beckoning.

Steps thundered down the ramp leading to the ship, coming from two large men and a tiny woman. One man wore a fine blue and gold suit that matched the ship, and a wide brimmed hat with a feather.

The other followed a few steps behind, wearing just a white shirt and trousers, with a red belt around his waist. He had a mustache and kind eyes.

The woman wore a nice black dress with a white apron.

“Welcome welcome!” Said the first man. “Duke Gabriel of Agreste, and Prince Adrien of Agreste, it’s an honor to have you aboard my vessel. I am Captain Andre Bourgeois. You may call me Captain or Andre, whatever you prefer.”

“Thank you, Captain Bourgeois. My son and I are grateful to you and your crew.” Gabriel then gestured to the woman standing with them. “This is my steward, Nathalie Sancoeur. She will also be joining us.”

“The more the merrier.” Said the captain with a smile. “This is Tom Dupain, our chief cook, and his wife Sabine. They are in charge of hospitality aboard the ship. If there’s anything about your living quarters that does not meet your standards, please speak to them.”

Tom said, “I will be taking your bags to your rooms, and then I will be making one last trip to the market before we set sail. Any allergies I need to be aware of?”

“My son is allergic to feathers, and I can’t eat mollusks.”

“No escargot then? No complaints here.” Tom smiled broadly.

“Please,” began the Sabine. “If you will follow me, I’ll show you to your quarters.”

The group climbed the ramp, and surfaced on the deck, where crew were hard at work preparing for launch.

The captain blew a whistle and shouted, “attention!”

The crew hurriedly fell in line by rank, rushing to their designed spots.

Once they were all accounted for, the Captain spoke again, “I will repeat this again for anyone who wasn’t listening the first seven times I briefed the mission.” He gestured to the guests. “His Royal Highness Prince Adrien, and his father Duke Gabriel of Agreste are our esteemed guests for this voyage. We will be escorting them to the settlement of Agreste for the Prince’s coronation. This will be a six month journey, with seven ports of call. During this voyage, I expect you all to treat our guests with as much honor and dignity that a group of spacedogs can muster. Shenanigans and tomfoolery will not be tolerated. All those who break this rule will be locked in the brig and then escorted off the ship at the next port. Do I make myself clear?”

The crew answered in perfect unison. “Sir, yes sir!”

“Then as you were.”

Just as they had assembled, so they departed back to work.

“They are a good group,” the captain assured. “You just have to keep expectations high.”

“Certainly.” The duke agreed.

“Now, I will make brief introductions to my most essential crew, who you may be interacting with during your stay.”

A stout, red headed man with a smaller hat stood hovering nearby, awaiting orders.

“This is my first mate, Roger Raincomprix. If you can’t find me, please consult him with any concerns.”

“I am specifically in charge of the crew. If someone is out of line with you, Your Majesty, please notify me and I will make sure they meet just punishment.”

“Thank you, sir,” Adrien bobbed his head.

“Second Mate Nino Lahiffe is in charge of Navigation. He’s up on the half deck by the wheel. The auburn woman next to him is his wife, Alya, the cartographer.” He pointed to the couple, who were peering at and discussing a star map.

[fav-archives]

XIANGLI YAO'S VOICE LINES:

Thoughts: I

I first heard about you when my colleagues were discussing your physical. I was caught up in technical support back then, but wanted to meet you in person. Now, I am content to see that, as I predicted... you have the potential to shape Solaris-3's future in unforeseen ways.

Thoughts: II

As the child of two scholars, I was always drawn to the same path. Perhaps trying to follow in their footsteps. However, my recollections of them have blurred over time. Most of what I know about my parents comes from reading their published research and evaluations of their work by others, rather than personal memories. Their existence feels elusive to me, like a hazy dream. Yet, I am their legacy—a reflection of their brilliance, and... their madness.

Thoughts: III

I like interacting with people, be it my colleagues at the Academy, or others. At times, I fear losing sight of my own humanity while chasing truth's elusive grasp... In those moments, I step away and seek solace in a bustling crowd. The laughter on their faces reminds me of the warmth of human connection.

Thoughts: IV

Losing my arm didn't bring as much pain as I expected. I was too consumed with excitement, finally discovering the Court of Savantae Ruins, following in my father's footsteps. The achievements I witnessed were beyond imagination. The secrets of a hidden civilization were revealed to me, their inventions harnessing the universe's echoes.

Thoughts: V

...Ah, it's you. Please, come in. No need to worry, I just need to recharge after all those meetings. Like a machine needing a break. Hmm? So you would like to help? Sure, please sit here. Just... stay next to me for a while. You don't need to say anything. Yes, this will do. Thank you.

Xiangli Yao's Hobby

Writing a report alone, after completing research, is satisfying. My scattered thoughts and inspirations come together during this time, becoming clear and organized.

Xiangli Yao's Trouble

During back-to-back academic conferences, my focus wanes and I need time to recharge. Being with peers is enjoyable, but a little solitude is necessary for me to stay sharp.

Favorite Food

I love all breakfast foods. I prefer to sleep and wake up early instead of staying up late and consuming caffeine. Eating consistent breakfast portions energizes my mind quickly.

Disliked Food

Oh, the Sour Soy Milk… When I was a toddler, my mother once convinced me to try it. While most of my childhood memories are joyful, that particular taste was overwhelming for my young palate.

Ideals

The laws of nature on Solaris have shifted under the Lament's sway, and even fundamental principles are now being questioned across all academic fields. Yet, I find the pursuit of new theories quite stimulating. Deep within the cosmos, beyond the stars, lies a vast expanse waiting to be understood. And there, amidst the barren landscape, truth awaits its discovery.

Chat: I

This prosthetic arm is pretty handy, loaded with helpful features. I don't have to worry about any arm injury while working on risky experiments, and I can even pull a few pranks on my colleagues. Oh, you want examples? Well... I'll definitely show you when I get the chance.

Chat: II

Among the friends I made when I was a kid, Pascar was the one who kept in touch with me for the longest time. Certain actions, when done too late, can lead to lingering regrets. Occasionally, I contemplate how each individual is a complex enigma, similar to the countless scientific theses I have studied.

About Mortefi

Mortefi is an interesting person. He's devoted to his work with unwavering determination. It's that kind of intense drive that pushes scientists towards brilliant discoveries. I know he considers me a "genius"—but in a workplace with only "geniuses", many ideas will never be realized. My dear friend has yet to grasp his true potential.

About Jinhsi

Magistrate Jinhsi has been paying close attention to the battles against Tacet Discords. She often visits the Academy to learn about our latest progress in weapons development. During those visits, she always seems tense. I understand the pressure and weight she carries, with all the promises and expectations placed on her shoulders...

About Jiyan

The Midnight Rangers bring valuable insights on Tacet Discords from their years of combat experience. General Jiyan has shared his extensive knowledge and new ideas with us. He possesses a gentle and just nature, but what truly sets him apart is his composure. This is essential for someone in his position.

About Aalto

Aalto once approached me with an offer from the Black Shores, but I declined. Life at the Academy suits me well. Though his manner may seem unserious, Aalto has a sharp eye for valuable information and connections for rare materials. I've frequently relied on his services.

About Baizhi

Baizhi is a great researcher. Our work doesn't often overlap, but I've read her reports and they're well-informed and persuasive. She often participates in field research, earning her a reputation among peers for bringing back valuable data.

Birthday Wishes

Happy birthday. Please, extend your hand. With the Lament crisis stalling our deep space exploration, our understanding of the galaxy has been limited. But this... See? This is a glimpse of the unchanging universe, brimming with secrets and tranquility, just for you. If my theories about your true place of origin are correct... I hope this memento offers some solace.

Idle: I

(Effort Sounds)

Idle: II

Time for replacements.

Idle: III

There, there... Off you go.

Self-Introduction

My name is Xiangli Yao, a researcher at the Huaxu Academy. Rover, your rare resonance frequencies raise an intriguing question: are you a unique beacon of insight in our quest for truth? Or do you already hold the ultimate truth in your hand?

Greeting

As truthseekers, we gauge the universe from within a nutshell. I'd love to hear your insights.

Join Team: I

The experiment begins.

Join Team: II

Amidst disruptions, let's find our way to the right path.

Join Team: III

Science is life's questioning of truth.

Ascension: I

An interesting new perspective. Thank you. Now I should be able to further improve my prosthetic arm's energy output.

Ascension: II

I can now achieve even greater things with Metalmorph. Is there a particular thing you desire? Please let me offer my new creation as a gift. It wouldn't exist without you.

Ascension: III

It's interesting. Your feedback reminds me of the texts I found in the Court of Savantae Ruins. Their ideology is fascinating and enigmatic, almost as if it came from the stars in outer space.

Ascension: IV

I'm headed to test the new combat techniques I've learned. Care to join me? It's time to put theory into practice. I believe I have reached a critical point, and overcoming it will bring a new horizon.

Ascension: V

The pursuit of truth is a rocky path to tread. Some stumble and push forward, others lament their weariness, and a few may even turn back. Our ranks thin as we near the ultimate goal. But Rover... Though you blaze your own trail, I know you are always with us, guiding the truthseekers forward.

Resonance Skill: I

Disruption.

Resonance Skill: II

Reconfiguration!

Resonance Skill: III

Exploit primed!

Resonance Liberation: I

All shall reveal itself.

Resonance Liberation: II

Pierce through the stars.

Resonance Liberation: III

Verity confined within limits.

Intro & Outro Skills

Variable elimination!

Hit: I

Miscalculation.

Hit: II

(Effort Sounds)

Hit: III

(Effort Sounds)

Injured: I

(Effort Sounds)

Injured: II

Risk level increasing.

Injured: III

Damage... Critical.

Fallen: I

Insufficent energy.

Fallen: II

Is this how it ends...?

Fallen: III

(Effort Sounds)

Echo Summon

Integration initiated.

Echo Transform

Complete overhaul.

Enemies Near

Watch out.

Glider

Like the wind.

Grapple

Nice.

Sensor

Coordinates confirmed.

Dash

Faster.

Supply Chest: I

Hmm... That was a rudimentary lock.

Supply Chest: II

Intriguing artifacts.

Supply Chest: III

Does anything here catch your interest?

[navybluepearl]

I wrote this... thing recently and would like to know others opinions about it. I often have trouble understanding my own writings. They kind of just release themselves from my mind the second I put a pen to paper or in this case, a finger to a screen. So please, once you've finished reading, let me know how it made you feel. From the depths of your soul, if it even got that far.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An androgynous beauty—the face of the universe itself. I begin at its structure, the bone beneath its skin, sharp as the splinters of an asteroid. Its skin, pale and luminous, glows like a white dwarf star. Only a fool would fail to recognize the celestial allure it holds. Its cheeks bloom with the rosy hues of nebulae, a soft explosion of color against the vastness.

I climb higher across this colossal visage and arrive at its nose—upturned, proud, mimicking the trajectory of rockets at liftoff, curving upward into the infinite, followed by satellites that orbit its crown. I used to think the years I spent searching were in vain. I never imagined the very thing I longed for would stare back at me—patient, waiting, eternal.

Its eyelashes spiral like the arms of galaxies, reaching endlessly, as if they too are seeking something. And then, I arrive at its eyes.

They are not just windows, but portals. I peer into the right iris, and wonder: Does the universe have a soul? The only answer that feels true is yes. How could my life contain such beauty otherwise? I am a being of light within a living temple—layered, flawed, alive. If I can possess a soul, then so must this god-like entity before me.

I break from thought and truly see the eye: an iris deep as the ocean of an untouched planet, surrounding a pupil as dark as a black hole, pulling me in with no hope of escape. I cling to a galaxy-lash and hoist myself upward, clambering onto its eyelid. My journey isn’t over. I’ve come too far to stop now.

I sprint across the vast expanse of its face, the stars glimmering in the distance like echoes of a forgotten future. The gravity bends around me, unstable and alive. I leap into its flowing locks—an endless waterfall of black and blue. I hold tight. The strands are soft—like the blanket my mother used to wrap around me, smelling of rain, pine, and ancient wood. I pause there, catching my breath, cradled in the cosmos.

Then, I look outward—toward whatever it is the universe is watching. All this time I climbed, and never once did I think to see what lay behind me. But now, I cannot look away.

I’ve finally found it—not within the universe, but beyond it. Beyond the wildest dreams that ever dared form in my mind. Beyond joy, sorrow, memory, and time. Beyond space. Beyond.

[vv1sh]

It was a rather pleasant change — the horrific monstrosities in which she had interacted with had slowly started to chip away at her HOPE.

At first, she was wary of him, far too many had disguised themselves as kind and warm. The Archivist had learned quickly to always have her guard up. Yet with him, she was able to breathe, as if the weight of the world wasn’t on her shoulders.

An ache felt within the depths of her heart, how it had wished so loudly to have someone. Even if it was for an hour, to ease the lonely fate she walked.

Artemis turned her head to look at him, lips tilting into a sheepish smile. “I’m a little embarrassed now. That wish … I’m really okay in my own. I’m probably just tired. ” she forced a laughter. “Besides I don’t really like the idea of forcing someone to stay with me.”

(Yeets this at you ♥️)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTHE WEIGHT OF HER WORDS SETTLE LIKE STARDUST,ㅤsensing the quiet ache she speaks of, ( —the unspoken longing buried beneath layers of pride & self-sufficiency, )ㅤ& steps closer with the kind of patience only eternity can offer. His presence is gentle, a subtle radiance that simply exists alongside hers; her smile is as faint as a dying star’s final gleam & the delicate self-awareness that dances in her eyes are like the soft flicker of distant constellations caught in an endless gaze,ㅤ& truly, Orion understands,ㅤ[ the crushing weight of solitude, the weariness of bearing the world’s burdens alone, with no one to share the load or offer solace, ]ㅤVoice is a hum of a distant star, quiet yet filled with sincerity.ㅤ“You know,”ㅤ—once upon a time,ㅤ“sometimes, even the strongest of stars need the company of another to burn brighter, even if only for a moment; please, you need not apologize for wanting company, Artemis. Needing it, even,”ㅤa gentle tilt of his head, almost imperceptible, but his gaze remains constant; deep & unyielding as the night sky itself [ unflinching, unblinking, as if his very eyes were constellations, standing resolute against the vast sweep of time, ]ㅤ“It’s not about forcing someone to stay with you; it’s about offering space for connection. No one should walk the vastness alone if they don't wish to. The stars, too, dance in the sky together; each one, no matter how far apart, shares the same cosmos,”ㅤa smile,ㅤthe light in his eyes reflecting a quiet understanding,ㅤ“If only for an hour, or even less, I would be honored to be here with you, in whatever way you need. No force, no pressure; just the warmth of presence… If that’s alright with you, of course…”

[infernal-ism]

The Drunken Bet with Khonsu

It had started, as most terrible ideas did, with too much wine and Khonsu’s insatiable need to gamble.

Saint—then Setesh Inanna—had been working diligently, arranging the stars and guiding the moon’s path with careful precision. It was sacred work, the kind of duty that maintained balance in the heavens.

Saint took it seriously.

Khonsu did not.

The night sky was their canvas, and the stars their pearls. With practiced hands, Saint strung them across the darkness, weaving constellations into delicate formations, ensuring their placement was just right. Each thread of starlight he stretched shimmered under his fingertips, humming with quiet power before settling into its eternal position.

Perfect. Ordered. Absolute.

Khonsu, lounging on a drifting crescent of moonlight, twirled a loose star between his fingers like a gambler rolling dice. He flicked it into the sky without care, letting it land wherever it pleased.

Saint caught it before it could disrupt his pattern. With a sharp sigh, he plucked it from the air and fixed it in its rightful place.

"You always act like this matters," Khonsu drawled.

"Because it does," Saint replied, his voice smooth but firm. "Without us, the sky would unravel."

Khonsu grinned, unbothered. "The sky, maybe. But you? You’d land on your feet anywhere, Red Queen."

Saint said nothing, focused on his work, stretching another thread of night, letting the pearls of light settle into their celestial formation. The meticulous care he took—the delicate stringing of the heavens—was not just duty.

It was art. It was divinity.

And yet, Khonsu’s mischief remained. He swirled his wine, watching Saint work with an ever-growing smirk.

"I bet you’d even survive without all this," he mused, gesturing at the vast expanse of the cosmos. "No stars. No divine favor. Just you, reborn with nothing."

Saint scoffed, adjusting the moon’s glow with a flick of his wrist. "I’d do more than survive. I’d thrive."

Khonsu’s grin sharpened. "Then prove it."

Saint finally turned to look at him, brow arching. "Excuse me?"

"Let’s make a wager." Khonsu leaned forward, his silver eyes glittering with mischief. "You. Reborn as a mortal. No wealth, no status. Just your Isfet magic and that grimoire you love so much. If you can climb back to power, I’ll admit you truly are eternal."

Saint considered it for only a moment. The idea was ridiculous. Reckless. Arrogant.

He took a slow sip of wine, letting the taste linger before tipping his goblet toward Khonsu.

"Done."

The sky shuddered. The pearls of starlight trembled on their threads. The deal sealed itself. And the next time Saint opened his eyes—

He was mortal, broke, and stuck in the middle of nowhere Louisiana.

SAINT DU BELISAIRE AND THE SUFFERIN’ HE DONE BROUGHT ON HIMSELF

Saint woke up in squalor.

Not the poetic kind. Not the kind where tragic heroes lounge on velvet chaises, sippin’ absinthe and sighin’ all dramatic-like.

No.

The kind where ya wake up to a ceiling with a hole so big ya can see the stars at night, and the floorboards groan like they fixin’ to give up on life entirely.

The kind where the once-grand du Belisaire estate, the pride of his family, his mama’s crown jewel, looked like one strong wind might send it sinkin’ into the bayou. The kind where he, the beloved, spoiled, sun-kissed child of Ra, woke up broke, mortal, and sufferin’.

And it was all his fault.

Saint sat up slow, feelin’ like he’d been hit by a steamboat, rubbin’ his temples as last night’s catastrophe came crawlin’ back into his head.

Khonsu. The bet. The smug, infuriatin’ grin on that no-good moon god’s face. The abject, catastrophic, soul-crushin’ loss.

And now?

Now he was mortal. Now he had to work. Now he had to live. Like a regular person. AGAIN.

Saint groaned like a man on his deathbed and collapsed back onto his dusty, ratty, godforsaken mattress. His magic was feral. It sparked when it shouldn’t. It broke things for no reason. Last night, he stared too hard at a candle, and it caught fire.

This mornin’, he tried to levitate a teacup and ended up shatterin’ every damn window in the house. At one point, he sneezed and sent a chair flyin’ clean out the front door. He was a mess.

The du Belisaires were proud. They had wealth, once. Power, once. Elegance, once. Now? Now their land was wild. Now their fortune was dry as a summer drought. Now their house looked like a ghost town with better decor.

Saint tried to help. He really did. But when he tried to fix the front porch, the hammer melted in his hands. When he tried to cook dinner, he accidentally summoned a minor hurricane in the kitchen. When he went to town to buy food, all the livestock spooked so bad they wouldn’t stop runnin’ ‘til next Tuesday. At this point, he was one bad day away from cryin’ in the mud.

A MAN CAN ONLY TAKE SO MUCH !

It started small.

A muttered prayer.

A frustrated sigh.

A dramatic flop onto his bed, hand over his forehead, sufferin’ like a heroine in a gothic novel.

"Papa, please. I am strugglin’."

No answer.

The next day, after fallin’ through the porch again and landin’ flat on his back in the mud, he tried harder.

"Papa ( @pharaohciious ) , I am your golden baby. Your radiant boy. Your darlin’ little starlight. I am on my knees. Have. Mercy."

Still, nothin’.

But by the time he tripped on a loose floorboard, fell into a bucket, got his head stuck in a chair, and then set the damn thing on fire tryin’ to fix it, he collapsed in the middle of the yard and screamed up at the sky.

"RA, HAVE YOU NO HEART? I AM SUFFERIN’." oh no, he's hysterical and screaming like this. "I'm sorr—"

And then—

The sun flared.

Heat, golden and blazin’, poured over him like an embrace.

His magic stilled.

His wild, chaotic power settled—just a little—under the weight of his father’s mercy. And Saint, exhausted, soaked in swamp water, covered in ash, and thoroughly humiliated, flopped onto the grass and exhaled, real slow.

"Thank you."

For a moment, he basked in the warmth. For a moment, he thought maybe, just maybe, he’d be alright. Then he looked over and realized he had accidentally turned his mama’s prize roses into solid gold.

And so, the sufferin’ continued.

[elenscaie]

Will you please describe the throne room of the Imperial Wrath Palace?

(Once again, things got away from me. Clearly 😅But as always, I do hope you enjoy~)

It's surreal to think that Mother is gone. Her Imperial Wrath, Empress Radavasia ran Zahashenie, dead. It simply cannot be. But he felt it, they all felt it, he and every last one of his siblings scattered throughout the vast cosmos. The ever-eternal susurration of power crooning in the corners and crevices of their minds that is—was—their mother, silent.

Dead.

His Moste High Wrath, Prince Olvelenor ran Zahashenie, leans against the writhing blood-and-bone archway which gapes open and into the Throne Room. His eyes—milky-pale and blanker than they've ever been—track the progress of the nascent Empress as she paces before the throne.

Mother's throne.

Anger writhes inside him. He wants nothing more than to lash out with talons and teeth and tail and rend Amileen to bloody-red ribbons and mere traces of corruption-not-soul. But he can't. It isn't even for the fact that demons can quite literally not attack the sovereign unless at their behest. That applies to all except for those of the imperial family.

No, that isn't it all.

The last time he saw Amileen at the palace, she was nine and on the cusp of being sent as political hostage to Earth-Silvaria, an Earth Olvelenor never heard of until then. The little brat of a half-demon who would sneak away his daggers and swords to use to carve out runes for whatever latest Necromantic ritual struck her fancy, was leaving. And demons could wait a long, long, long time for war. It could be as little as a decade or as long as several centuries before Amileen's status as princess grew worthless in the face of the inevitability of Mother's desire for violence and conquest.

Of course, Olvelenor could visit if he so desired. He could even stay for however long it took for Amileen to be sent back to the homeworld if that was his wish. The only thing he couldn't do was bring Amileen back. To do such would be to render the entire act of sending her away utterly pointless.

Not that it mattered in the end, he thinks sourly. Not when it was a mere two years before war descended upon Earth-Silvaria. All Olvelenor managed in those couple years was a few scattered visits. Such is the reality when dealing with an Earth (or any planet really) not (yet) absorbed and brought beneath the tail of the Empire— always with the eternal bullshit of bureaucracy to wade through. By the Darkness and Corruption themself, it is infuriating.

And now that little nine-year-old brat is seventeen, nearly eighteen, and Empress at that.

He watches Amileen plant a hand on either armrest and lean forward, bowing her head, dark hair falling to obscure her face. She says and does nothing more, simply stands there, still and silent.

So Olvelenor takes the opportunity to observe the Throne Room itself.

It seems no different from when Mother was still alive only mere days ago. The pillars crafted from the living bodies, red and writhing and raw, of those who dared go against the Empire in one manner or another and so earned eternal punishment as becoming a part of the very foundation of the Blood Spire. The floor comprised of countless more writhing bodies, flayed to a dripping red-black this time, those demons who were found guilty of turning traitor against their own kind. The blood-dyed, vein-stitched tapestries depicting scenes of conquest from particularly grand, gory battles.

And, of course, the throne itself. Towering high, higher, so very high so as to disappear from sight amidst the roiling mass of living blood that is the ceiling. Every bit of it fashioned from the flesh, blood, and bone of those Mother fought and defeated in battle, a monument to eternal damnation, bodies flowing and distorting and contorting into one another.

But not Mother's throne anymore.

Olvelenor, too, stays silent and simply waits, simply watches, wondering what shall become of the Empire, now in the hands of this nascent Empress.

[jimprestonapologist]

The Journey -Her Perspective

I'll never know his touch again Those gentle hands with kind yet clumsy words An idiot in all his glory My space invader

Like a magnet I'm Pulled Unable to detach Stuck to his side In every universe

And as the melody Guides me between the cosmos Between both heaven and hell and beyond The lunar rays subside And I see him once more

My beautiful fool He listens silently through his tears And there's nothing I can do But watch Silent too

Our eyes lock And the lyrics speak of love lost But I will find him In every galaxy Through death and life we remain We must

The final parting note chimes And I retreat into the sprawling vastness Like an estranged astronaut Begging for solid ground That will never greet me

But in his orbit I will stay Never close but never far A devoted satellite Dancing with tangled constellations In the hopes that I'll catch a glimpse of him Just once more

Just once more Please.

This is my 2nd piece in my poem set for this art I created, this time from Gamora's perspective! 🥺 You can find the version from Quill's version I wrote here: https://www.tumblr.com/jimprestonapologist/721767407885090816/the-tape-his-perspective?source=share And for all my other non guardians related stuff, you can find it over here: @silverapplestock !

[talesofsonicasura]

DSB Sun Wukong with a Duelist s/o: Stardust Dragon

Here's a special part. How is it special? Well the main monster Reader's deck centers around is ready to take flight. Also part of this headcanon had been influenced by a dream I got one night. Can be read gender neutral or preferred gender.

Being part of the JTTW always meant that things would eventually get weird or dangerous. Nothing really new to you, mainly the danger because you were born in the Satellite slums.

Destroyed streets, gangs at every corner and corrupt cops ready to tag you like a dog then throw you in the slammer. Well used to as you manage to leave that hellhole behind but barely escaped getting a prison mark and end up here.

Anyway, the weirdness had gone up a bit in the form of Sun Wukong specifically his actions. As of late, he been acting very odd. How odd? Well...

It began with sudden touches. Brush you in some way whenever he passed by, wrap his tail around your waist or even pull you close. This usually being disguised as accidental or moving you from conveniently placed harm like about to step on a snake kind.

When no one else was looking he gave you some of his food and even rub his head against your shoulder or back. Oh, there had been the grooming too. A natural thing that monkeys tend to do but this felt more... personal.

The Monkey King only doing it to you and no one else. Always with an excuse at the ready if someone caught him in the act. Despite it being strange, it wasn't much of a bother. Monkeys are social creatures even if this one is a VERY OLD yaoguai.

Now back to the danger part, there had been a few occurrences where you get strange dreams. These nightly visions warning you of a threat that needed a specific counter, the Heart of your deck.

Such a dream had greeted you last night, much to the Monkey King's surprise. He was doing the grooming thing again so you suddenly flailing didn't help anyone. Had to tell the monk that it was just a nightmare.

Anyway, your fears became valid when another yaoguai decided to interrupt the journey. It wasn't the creature that made you worry but the artifact they held. A lamp that projected someone's worst foe... Oh no.

The yaoguai had tried to aim at the Monkey King but the stone monkey knocked it out of their hands... Right at you. And the worst had occurred as the artifact's light manage to scrape against your leg.

Duel Monsters is a game for everyone to enjoy but there were sick bastards who turn that innocence upside-down. One way is the involvement of dark rituals or black magic called 'Shadow Games'.

Something you had been dragged into once. With it, a monster that terrorized not only you but the people who didn't get out alive like you had.

Immediately shoving Tripitaka away from the beast that shot out of the lantern, intense dark blue flames forming a massive wall that burned fiercely. There it hovered above everyone: Beelzeus of the Diabolic Dragons.

Normally you wouldn't worry about fighting it but you weren't alone right now. None of them aware about this dragon's power to reduce every bit of their physical prowess until nothing is left. Looks like that 'method' is needed.

"Sun Wukong, take care of everybody. This bastard is mine." None of them having the chance to catch you as you charge through the flames. A chant being the only thing they could hear.

"Gather stars coalesce the hope of the world into a single shining star! The cosmos above please grant me the power of the vast stars in your sky. And travel the path its light shines upon! Synchro Soul: Stardust Dragon!!!"

Everyone watch a massive spiralling blast of wind rose from the flames. The pillar shattering into a stardust rain...and a dragon that shone just like emerge. You had taken the form of Stardust Dragon.

This is a power only you held amongst psychics: to become an actual Duel Monster. An ability used in emergencies cause it took a lot of mental and physical strength to maintain. Stronger the monster, the harder it was to hold.

Tripitaka and his disciples could only watch as you fought the dragon much larger than you. Sun Wukong kept them from interfering. He had complete trust in your abilities.

Stardust Dragon dodging the blasts of dark flames, slashing claws, and bites from the two giant dragon heads. Firing back with cosmic energy breaths, fierce stardust gales and your own sharp claws.

All of this was to build up enough power to send this hellspawn back to the scrapheap. It is how you took out Beelzeus the first time. Something that'll happen again upon goading the massive dragon higher into the sky.

From there, you focused all your power to let loose the coup de grace: Cosmic Flare. In game terms, it sends whatever monster Stardust Dragon attacks back to the deck. For this fight, the 'deck' is the lantern it came from. "GO BACK TO HELL!! COSMIC FLARE!"

The giant blast of starry energy not only sent the dragon back into the artifact but obliterated the object completely. Even the hellfire it unleashed was also extinguished leaving scorched earth behind.

You manage to gently land on the ground letting out a triumphant roar before your transformation broke apart. Thankfully Sun Wukong had caught you before you kissed the dirt. It was gonna take sometime to recover after using Stardust Dragon.

Or the constant questions from your friends. Turning into a giant white dragon without any warning is a justified reason. The questions thankfully saved once you fully heal.

For Sun Wukong, he couldn't get brilliant image of Stardust Dragon from his head. Something that preoccupied him while everyone else was asleep, your unconscious form next to him.

'To think such a beautiful beast dwelled within your soul. Befitting for my potential mate to leave stardust in their wake. Rest now my soon to be eternal star.'

That night, you were cradled protectively in the arms of Sun Wukong. An origami craft resembling Stardust Dragon nestled in his tiger skin. His dreams filled with shining stars.

And that's it. I did struggle writing this mainly finding a monster that Sun Wukong can't destroy. Beelzeus of the Diabolical Dragons felt perfect as not only can it not be destroyed by battle but card effects as well.

Thus leading to the spell card version of Cosmic Flare being the only way to dispatch the dragon. For anyone who doesn't know, Shadow Games are duels fueled by black magic. Taking damage during one causes actual bodily harm and losing a duel means your soul gets sent to a personal hell called the Shadow Realm.

It is something that occurred a lot during the series from the original series to 5Ds. Anyway that's it for now. Until next time folks, I'll see you back on the journey westward. Here's Beelzeus of the Diabolic Dragons and a better look at Stardust Dragon.

[slippinmickeys]

Head Canon AU Mulder and Scully as Archeologist and Scientist at a dig in ruins in the Amazon.

Anon! Thank you so much. I saw this this morning and got that rare inspiration wherein I launched myself at this, and kind of love what I came up with. I hope you enjoy it! (It is unbeta-ed)

1. The University was being cheap. That was the first thing. Piggybacking off the hard work he’d put in: years worth of toil to arrange this meticulously set-up dig. If they wanted to send a team to study advanced medical uses of the vast biome of the Amazon rainforest, they’d do far better sending this approaching medical team into the interior. His team -- his dig -- was practically on the outskirts. The forest around them had already been explored and researched, catalogued and referenced. The real biological finds -- the cures for Alzheimer’s, cancer -- would be found in the unknown, in those places even the aboriginal people hadn’t stepped. The University was being cheap, plunking in a science team on a completely separate mission with his own, just to save some cash. That was the bottom line.

If it hadn’t been so oppressively hot so early in the morning, he might not have been quite so irritated. As it was, he stood on the bank of the river and ran an already sweat-soaked handkerchief over the back of his neck, willing the putting little outboard Evinrude to chug a little more quickly upstream. It was hot and stiflingly humid, and he’d wanted to be at the dig two hours ago, before the heat of the day set in. Too late, that.

The incoming medical team -- if you could call it a team -- seemed to consist of only one person. A short-statured wisp of a woman (if the high, top-knotted messy red bun was any indication of sex) who sat low in the backseat of the approaching riverboat, surrounded by expensive-looking boxes filled with technology that probably wouldn’t operate well in the humidity. He blew an irritated raspberry and shuffled his feet in the muddy squelch of the riverbank.

The stout block of the driver hefted a rope at Mulder as they approached, which Mulder caught easily and wrapped around a nearby tree.

“Tudo vai bem?” Mulder inquired as the man cut the engine and grunted an affirmative.

The passenger stood, keeping a hand on the side of the little tin vessel, its stern fishtailing out into the current. Mulder stepped up and held out a hand, which she grasped gratefully. He pulled and she took a confident leap, landing lightly on the ground next to him.

“Dr. Mulder, I presume?” she said on a light breath, looking up at him with a small smile, having to crane her neck to do so. She had astonishingly blue eyes, a color he’d only seen once, in an ice-cave in the far north. He shook his head after a moment and realized that he was still holding her hand. He dropped it, nodding.

“I thank God, doctor, I have been permitted to see you,” she finished, quoting the journals of Henry Morton Stanley.

Mulder outright laughed. He was smitten immediately.

2. “Be careful with that!” she’d barked, as Langly handed out her equipment to a couple of waiting locals that had been working on the project for three years.

Mulder held up a calming hand.

“You’re working with archeologists, Dr. Scully,” he said softly, “my team has the gentlest hands in the Southern Hemisphere.”

She quirked one side of a grin at him even as she threw a worried look over her shoulder at her equipment.

“Come on,” he said, giving her sleeve a gentle tug, “let me show you around.”

He showed her the latrine first, watching her face carefully for a reaction, but she just nodded nonchalantly and kept walking. Then the mess, and the tent where she’d be working when she wasn’t in the field.

“And this,” he said, taking her to an empty patch of jungle, “is where your bunk will be. My apologies that it’s not set up. There’s no female barracks and we were told you wouldn’t be here until next week. The radio communique we got this morning informing us of your arrival came as something of a surprise.”

“I’m eager to get started,” was all she said in response.

Mulder walked on and she followed him.

“I’m afraid the only empty cot is in my tent,” he said sheepishly. “Dr. Byers headed home for a funeral last month and we’re not expecting him back until March. I’ll be sure yours is set up right away, but takes some time as we have to build a platform first. Have you done jungle field work before?”

“I flew here from Borneo,” she said. “It’s not a problem.” With that, she flipped back the tent’s outer curtain and ducked inside like she owned the place.

She never did move out.

3. Scully’s father had been diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer and hadn’t lived long enough to see her graduate from medical school. She would not let it happen to anyone else if she could help it, she’d said. She worked like a woman possessed.

Against all advice, she would march into the jungle alone and be gone for days at a time. When her grad students finally arrived, they couldn’t keep up with her, and she’d frequently leave them at base camp to work on the equipment (which, Mulder was not really that pleased to report, did have a tendency to malfunction in the miasmic humidity and heat of the Amazon basin. It wasn’t, he admitted, that easy always being right). Occasionally she could be talked into taking one of the local hires with her, but she felt bad taking workers that Mulder’s project funding paid for, and anyway, they weren’t trained in her science, she would tell him.

“I wish you wouldn’t go out on your own,” he murmured into the cup of her ear one night, a trickle of sweat running from her hairline and onto the tip of his nose.

She turned on the cot, a feat, considering its fairly narrow dimensions, and pressed her forehead against his, the flimsy pillow damp beneath them both.

“I’m careful,” she whispered, and threw a leg over him, her dewy mons pressing into the naked flesh of his thigh.

“It’s not safe-” he began to protest, but she’d captured his lips with her own and he fell headlong into the lush heat of her -- whatever concern that had been on the tip of his tongue lost to her rapacious mouth as it trailed a slick path down his torso and latched, vitae and greedy, around the rigid length of him. It was bliss. She was bliss. If he had ever thought he knew love, he was wrong.

4. The whole camp knew they were together. Her tent had become a kind of catchall storage area, and it’s not like nylon canvas could contain the breathy moans of their pleasure. That and she’d just plunk down and sit on his lap whenever the only camp chair available around the mess tent was the one with the tricky leg.

Anyway, what happened in the field stayed in the field, unless it was up for peer review.

“Are you guys going to get married or something?” Mulder’s newest grad student asked one night when the air had actually cooled enough to take the edge off of everybody’s temper. Beer had arrived with their latest resupply and Frohike had syphoned off some LN2 to cool it and it was frosty and rich and maybe the best thing Mulder had ever tasted aside from Scully’s skin.

Scully, from atop his lap, merely shrugged and took a leisurely sip of brew. Mulder pictured it sliding down her throat, the cold blooming into her belly and he dry swallowed, then leaned forward and kissed her shoulder.

“God, don’t be such a newb,” drawled Langly, pressing his glasses into his face compulsively.

Mulder knew what Langly meant. They’d all seen their share of field romances that fizzled the second your boots stepped back onto University soil, though something about Scully felt different; the way their minds worked together, the way she felt in his arms.

“I’m married to the job, bro,” Scully said, but reached back and squeezed the skin just above Mulder’s hip. He kissed her shoulder again.

“D’you tell her about the helo data?” Frohike asked, looking at Mulder from his own camp chair. The little man sat low and back in it with his shoulders hunched up, and Mulder thought he looked a bit like a toad, or an ogre guarding a burial mound.

They’d gotten the funding from a billionaire alumni to fly a helicopter over the whole of the basin in this sector of the Amazon, using light detection radar. Basically, it shot out billions of lasers as it flew overhead that were able to penetrate the rainforest’s canopy and map the landscape below.

“You had a chance to analyze it?” Scully asked, craning her head to look at him squarely.

He nodded, smiling. He’d been saving this to tell her especially.

“And you were able to combine it with the satellite data?” she asked, excited.

He nodded again. “Sóis,” he said, smiling. The settlements they’d found took their name from the Portuguese word for ‘suns.’ They were round villages, all with remarkably similar layouts, with elongated mounds circling a central plaza. When seen from above, they looked like the rays of the sun. “Pre-Columbian.”

She jumped off his lap, spilling half her beer in the process. It dripped down the bare skin of her knee, unnoticed.

“Are you kidding?!” her excitement made him giddy.

“It gets better,” he said, and she cocked her head, waiting for him to elaborate. “They’re laid out like the cosmos,” he said, giving her a full-watt smile as he rose out of the chair to stand in front of her. “We’re already plotted three different villages, all laid out in the exact design of southern constellations.” Her mouth dropped open. “Canis Major, Hydra, and Crux Australis.”

She launched herself into his arms, practically squealing -- something he’d never heard her do -- and he held her, looking around at the smiling faces of the other scientists in the mess. The find would make his career, and her excitement for him touched him profoundly.

5. Martim, one of their local hires, came careening into camp, breathing so hard he had to put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. His face was a mask of anxiety and fear. Mulder felt dread bloom in his gut, and he dropped what he was doing -- actually dropped the computer tablet he was holding to the wet forest floor -- and ran over to the man, grasping him firmly by the shoulder.

“Martim?” he said, “O que aconteceu?”

“Dr. Scully,” the man heaved, his accent thick. He could still scarcely breathe.

“Where is she?” Mulder didn’t have the emotional wherewithal to translate from English. “What happened?”

“Hurt,” the man wheezed, “she’s hurt.”

It took nearly thirty minutes to assemble a rescue party, and they had to let Martim rest for a bit and give him food and water before he could take them back out into the jungle where he’d left Scully. Mulder was beside himself by the time they finally started off, impatient as a recalcitrant child, sick to his stomach with worry.

It took three hours to hack into the area where she’d been doing her search, and a further twenty minutes of calling her name before they heard her weak call back.

Mulder raced ahead without thought to obstacle or danger, and skidded to a halt when he was practically on top of her. She was leaning back against the base of a large tree, holding onto her right ankle, which she had elevated on her left knee. There was a length of rope beside her and a climbing harness around her butt and waist.

“Scully,” he panted, falling to his knees beside her.

She smiled at him weakly, her face pale and sweaty.

“I think it’s broken,” she hissed, pointing at her ankle.

“What happened?” Mulder asked, as the rest of the rescue party trundled in behind him, pulling off backpacks and other equipment. Someone handed Scully a bottle of water.

“I saw a fungus I’d never seen before growing on the bark midway up this tree,” she said after guzzling half a bottle of Arrowhead. “The carabiner failed on my descent.”

“Oh, Scully,” Mulder said, reaching out to tuck a damp lock of titian hair behind her ear.

“I got the sample, though,” she said with a tired, but victorious glint in her eye.

They weren’t back into camp until well after nightfall.

Mulder picked her up from the field stretcher and carried her into their tent, depositing her gently onto her cot. Langly came in behind him and handed him two fresh cold packs before ducking back out without a word. Mulder popped them to activate the chemicals and pressed them gingerly on either side of Scully’s ankle.

“I’m going to call for a medical evac,” he said quietly.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, grabbing at his hand and squeezing it. “Mulder, don’t you fucking dare.”

“Scully, we’ve got to follow protocol here,” he said, trying not to sound put out.

“Do not take me out of the field, Mulder. Promise me.”

“Scully-”

“Promise me!”

“How will you even work?” he said a little desperately.

“It doesn’t need setting or surgery,” she said, gesturing to her injured limb.

“How do you know that without an X-ray?”

“I’m a medical doctor,” she said, by way of explanation, “I can secure it with supplies we have on hand. I can work from my cot for a few days and make crutches out of tree limbs. Please, Mulder,” she said, and he could feel himself relenting, even if it would get him in trouble. “Please.”

He sighed, and she smiled up at him weakly, though he didn’t say a thing.

“Thank you,” and closed her eyes, relaxing into her pillow, “thank you.”

Six weeks later the canvas of their tent ripped back and the greenish glow of leaf-filtered sunlight shone into the murky, damp depths. Mulder rose from where he was resting on his cot and looked to the entrance. Scully stood there, armpit resting on her improvised crutch, her hair a rich autumn frizz around her head. Her eyes were wide and shining, and there was something incandescent about her in that moment -- an energy pulsing from her that lit his soul from within.

“Scully-” he started, but she held up a hand to silence him. Her hands were shaking.

“I found it,” she said, her voice breathy with the triumph of discovery, “Mulder, I found it.”

[batarella]

ANDROMEDA - CHAPTER ONE

Jason Todd is lost in an unknown realm light years away from Earth. 

With not much hope to find his way back, his only companion is a cruel alien cyborg from the enemy fleet,  one he’ll have to get along with to survive.

A/N: This might be the next series that’ll take up so much of my passion. I love it to bits, and it’ll mean a lot to me if you guys will, too. I hope you love this! I strive to make a positive space in the internet that’s an escape for both me and the readers. I love you all and thank you for pushing me to where I am now. 

WORDS: 8698 WARNINGS: Violence, Blood, Firearms

MASTERLIST

—–

Prologue

Light.

This void, one so familiar, was infinite. And so it was, even if there could be, at some point, an end.

An endless void no hand can reach into, so vast no beam could enlighten.

An idea could not describe half the realities of what was out there all along. And what was out there was larger than souls, older than gods, a space so opulent with entities not so many could comprehend.

How could she, or anyone at all, have thought of themselves as anything more than a speck, even when not devoid of life, in such a universe so unlimited?

No.

Not when it took this long to know all that.

Not until now, when she marveled over the stars as if they were this light so new, a newborn brought into the world having laid eyes on their mother the first time their eyes open.

She was flying.

She was as light as the stars. She was the stars.

Her palm hit the glass, hadn’t realized she was reaching for those very beings as if she could hold them in her hand until it stopped her.

“Like it’s your first time,” Jason said. “Look at the stars like you’ve never seen one in your life.”

In its truest sense, perhaps there didn’t have to be any pretending.

If the cosmos had always been this breathtaking wonder, so infinite and incomprehensively immense, that at any point, she’d be left standing there as quiet as she’d never been, then she’s never actually seen the stars. Not once in her life.

Not until now.

-----

3 months ago.

Sometimes, he needed at least just a gentle reminder that he was lucky to be alive at all.

Or, more accurately, that he was alive again.

Because some days, on days when life was not but to be taken advantage of, to say that it should be taken advantage of and use it to such limits that should never, ever, be reached nor should be considered, he didn’t care much that it was luck or the work of realities being this fucked up sense that he never really understood.

This was that limit.

His bike was thunderous, unpleasantly screeching like the tires didn’t like being skidded against the cement, when Jason Todd used the trunk of a pickup truck in the middle of being towed as a ramp. As he reached the top, he proved, as he often did, that he couldn’t care less if that landing was something he’d pull off or if it defied every physics law in the book.

Fortunately, it didn’t. He was flying, at least for a while, and gravity was kind enough to him not to let his tires break under the weight of both him and the bike when after he’d soared through the air, he almost smashed the sidewalk he landed on just a split second before he sped off again.

All that thought on whether or not he’d live through it didn’t make so much as a pitstop in his mess of a head.

All he thought was the stolen sports car breaking every traffic rule imaginable and the millions of dollars stuck to its trunk.

People were screaming, some in fear and some with slurs and curses not even he would blurt out, but they’d fade just as he’d pass by them. And he passed through four intersections in under a minute. That car really wouldn’t stop.

When they pulled out a gun, he knew this chase shouldn’t last any longer, even as long as he would have hoped.

They called out his name, Hood, to taunt him further, but all they got out of him was a snicker, and a breathy growl that came from both his stomach and his mouth. He was hungry. Almost dinner time. All he had in his pockets were about three bars of chocolate he got from the pantry for when there might not be much time for him to stop by some diner that night. Which he didn’t.

He swerved a whole round of bullets, drifted off into an alley before suddenly bursting out onto the not so empty streets again. They kept shooting. A bullet grazed his jacket.

Just as he pulled on the throttle to keep up with the car, his comms started acting up.

“All units. Report. Emergency at the Watchtower. I need all hands on deck.”

Watchtower?

The car drifted to the right, and Jason grabbed onto a street pole to swerve him into the same direction.

“Nightwing. Red Robin. Batgirl. Spoiler. Signal. Orphan. Robin. And Red Hood. I have your coordinates. Drop everything you're doing now and step into the boom tubes as soon as you see one.”

“Woah, woah, hold on.”

He pushed onto the side of his helmet, skidded to the left just before another bullet would have hit his forehead.

“Bruce,” he said into his comms. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“This is an emergency.”

“I told you,” he said. “I’m done working with you guys.”

 “This is nothing to negotiate. Report at the Watchtower ASAP.”

Bruce was gone mid-sentence that was half-filled with profanity.

He wasn’t going anywhere. Not after last week when Bruce almost sent him to the police just by shooting a man three inches too near from his chest that would have been fatal. Hell, not after every week when their untimely arguments spurred on and there was nothing that convinced him that he was at all welcome into that shitty family in the first place.

He pulled on his bike, sped between two passing cars and almost shocked every passerby out of consciousness, but the car sped on as well. He pulled harder, leaned in to gain speed. Closer. Closer.

The car turned right, and the drift was deafening to hear even with his helmet on.

And in front of him, where the car had just been, a spiraling portal of white beams and an emptiness at the center so barren of light flashed out of nowhere, suspended in thin air. It grew larger until it was big enough for him to just slip through. Boom Tubes.

He drifted to the right to avoid it, to where he saw the car speed into, and so dangerously did he lose his balance when the crowds that piled around him squandered and panicked. His tires would give out, and his hand started to ache. The car turned to the left at the intersection, almost slamming into a truck, before another boom tube appeared where it’d left.

“Shit.” He swerved around it again.  At the fourth time it happened, something rang in his comms.

“Cyborg-“

“Jason, this isn’t the time to play around.”

“I’m not playing around,” he said. “Not interested. I’ve got my own matters to deal with.”

“I’ve got twenty other Titans members to boom tube in. I don’t have time for this.”

“In case you forgot, I’m not part of the league or the Titans-“

“Batman asked for all of you.”

“Fuck Batman-“

His breaks almost teared out every layer in his ear drums, and his head almost hit the cement, when another tube flashed just inches away from the front of his bike. He drifted away just in time.

“We need your help.”

“What’s going on at the tower?”

He drove into an alley, wheelied up a wooden ramp until he was on top of a dumpster, then he sped right across the other side. The car started to slow down.

“Pirates. Trying to take over the Watchtower.”

“Pirates?!”

Another alley to cut his route short. They saw him, sped off, then one of the passengers pointed an AK at him and started firing at the roads.

“Listen, Victor. All that space stuff? That’s your area. I don’t work with that-“

“No. You listen. You don’t know how pissed Batman is right now, and I don’t wanna get yelled at.”

“Trust me. You’ll get used to it. He’s not actually that scary.”

“Is he!?”

He could hear, just a little bit, what went on the other side of the line. There was screaming, some from people he could point out, some he wasn’t even sure was human at all. There were slabs of metal being thrown around, a light explosion at only such a distance away, and gun shots from firearms he’s never heard of, at least not on Earth.

“Jason, just please-“

“I’m not interested. Boom tube someone else.”

He turned off his comms, on every line there was, and turned to a left alley.

People had left the streets, thankfully, but some cars were still around, parked to the sidewalk and some stuck waiting for a traffic light the runaway just ignored, which meant he had to as well.

They saw him behind them, and before they could step on the gas, Jason pulled out his own gun, lined with bullets more explosive than a small bomb, one Bruce would absolutely mutilate him for, and shot it at the tires.

It hit the left one at the back, and the car started spinning fast. He could hear screaming, not so much from the pedestrians as he did from the four runaways in the car, and it uncontrollably screeched into the now empty roads, and it seemed to be only gaining speed.

Two cars at the right. One short enough for him to climb onto the other twice its size.

He only had so much time.

Jason wheelied up and broke the roof of the first car, sped on and used it to ramp him up to the second one. He pulled on the throttle, the dust from the wheels piling up in his boots. In a moment shorter than a second to count, Jason soared into the air, right where the car would skid into.

He’d have landed on its roof, stopped the driver from stepping on the gas before it’d hit anyone dumb enough to cross the street at this time which he knew someone inevitably would. That was his plan.

He didn’t think a boom tube would suddenly appear, right where he’d have landed, when he was flying in the air where he had no chance of swerving away.

Then, it was black.

Fuck.

That blackness was enough to make him realize what went on, not long enough to decide what he’s going to do to the rest of them when he gets there.

Everything flashed too bright for him to see at an instant like a lamp was being shone right to his face when he’d just been stuck in a cave for three months. And it’d only been so long. But everything was loud, in both sight and hearing, and when he opened his eyes, he was running straight into a wall.

Jason flipped off of his bike before it crashed into an empty wall and exploded too near to his face. His arms weren’t going to thank him for the bruises he got from rolling to his side, shielding his face from the debris.

But he didn’t have time for that either. Everything, at the start, was this blur too messy for him to know what went on. There was the screaming he’d heard from the comms, the blasting of firearms he’s never seen on earth before.

His body should have been too heavy for him to even stand, but he forced himself up, and he did a terrible job easing his head still adjusting to the light when everything in him ached like he’d just stepped out of a bad massage.

“Hood!” he heard someone scream. Cyborg. “Thank god, you're here!”

“Where the hell am I?!”

 To his side, against a window he hadn’t looked into too closely, someone with the arms and legs of a human, but a head that resembled more of a warthog’s was thrown flat against the glass, hard enough that it screamed this deathly shriek only an actual pig would have made. Only he wasn’t one.

Everything started to clear up. Jason took off his helmet, breathed, then he walked to the unconscious body.

He had tusks, stocky arms, legs as short as his whole head, and eyes white and rolled over to the back. He wasn’t dead. He could see it breathe from how large his rib cage was protruding out his chest.

Then there was its head. Or what was left of it.

His jaw wasn’t like the rest of his face. It was made of steel. A cybernetic jaw?

And his teeth were as well. The ones that shot out of his mouth. Silver and looked as if they’d withstand even the harshest blows.

Then he looked out the window.

Thankfully, no one else was around to hear him cuss out the worst ever known to man.

He never thought he’d see Earth from here, where it was small enough that if anyone were around, the whole planet would be the same size as their head.

“Fuck!” he pulled his helmet back on. “I told you I wanted nothing to do with this!”

Cyborg was still with his boom tubes, just with his one hand, while the other fought off the attackers.

“You're here now. Make the most of it.”

Even more of the team started showing up from his portals. Beast Boy. Spoiler. Superboy. Starfire. Unlike him, they sprung into action the minute they could, blasting their beams, their weapons, their fists, and with Gar’s case, a shriek from an eagle’s cry.

Jason pulled out his gun and started firing aimlessly at the intruders too drastically bizarre to be human.

“A little synopsis on the situation might help!”

Cyborg fired from his arm.

“I told you. Pirates!”

“Space pirates!?”

“They call themselves The Fleet. They’re known all over space-“

“Well, ain’t this a treat!”

One that looked enough like a human but with paper white skin and eyes looking more like black holes than they were irises fired at Jason, with a gun that fired beams, lasers most probably as they glowed red, and zapped off a part of his leather jacket before it hit the wall.

His guns were too primitive at that point, but he kept on and fired at its shins.

It fell to the floor and its leg shriveled into ash, and his ears wouldn’t sit through this night if it meant hearing these kinds of horrific screams for the whole of it. He got up, slammed his boot onto its rib cage, and aimed his gun at its head.

“HOOD-“

“Oh, come on! They’re fucking robots!”

“THEY’RE CYBORGS. THERE’S A DIFFERENCE.”

He kept quiet before he would have said it wouldn’t have mattered to him like they were as different as a black ant was to a red one.

“Don’t kill them! Batman’s orders!”

“Batman’s bitches,” he snorted.

“What?!”

He slammed the butt of his pistol against its head, and it laid unconscious with his eyes sticking up to the ceiling. It didn’t even have eyelids to close it with. He kicked it away in disgust, ran past the debris out into the tower’s main lobby.

Everyone was there. Wonder Woman being tied by her own lasso and Superman having at it with another alien with skin as rough as a tree trunk’s bark, but with half its face mangled and replaced with a red glowing eye and a Terminator-like finish on its mouth and jaw.

Then there was Roy Harper. The son of a bitch. He was there, on the ground and fighting off a blade that struggled to pierce through his neck by a brown bear with horns. Jason shot at its arms, then it roared and tumbled off just as Roy kicked it in the snout.

“Jason!”

“Good to see you.” he shot the bear in the leg. “How the hell did this fleet get in here?!”

“They bombed one side. They got ships surrounding us like vultures.” He pointed out the window. The kind of ships that waited for them, hovering over their heads and out their windows as they blasted its sides were the kind he wouldn’t want to look at long enough to realize what they actually were, or else he’d be stuck there too stiff to move out of the way before they’d blast him until he was nothing more than shreds of light.

Jason stood at Roy’s back as he fired arrows and him with his bullets. “Are you sure these guys aren’t robots!?”

“Pretty sure they’re still alive. Or at least half alive.”

“Different races from across the galaxy?”

“Looks like it.”

“I was kidding.”

Jason shot through a metal arm that exploded at the bullet’s impact, throwing the purple-skinned alien with a trunk for a nose against the window.

“What the hell do these guys want from the Watchtower?!”

“My guess-” Roy shot three arrows at the same time. “Information on the League, or kidnap one of them for ransom. Or bounty.”

“Thought these guys were pirates?!”

“Doesn’t mean they won't do anything else for galactic credits.”

Galactic credits his ass.

Jason reloaded his guns, which honestly weren’t going to be much help going after laser guns and the kind of technology they’d dream to have in a thousand years. He was left with a Glock.

Oh, did he not want to be here at all.

“Roy!”

He shot a flying drone that went for his red hair, and Arsenal turned around just before another would have pierced a glass shard against Jason’s back.

“Jason, they took out Kori!”

“Fuck these toaster ovens-“

At first, he thought someone just sneezed on him.

A bad, horribly infected sneeze. One that let out enough mucus that would have stuck to the ceiling if balled up and thrown by a hand.

Because it sure felt that way, with how, with everything moving too fast and too chaotic for him to see, a blob of green, half-solid slime, large enough to drown him in its bile, suddenly gets shot in his direction.

This can’t be mucus. It was too much to come from anyone’s nose.

That’s what he told himself when at the end of that split second, his body was stuck to the wall and the blob had stiffened enough that he couldn’t even move his fingers. All that showed was his head, peaking out over the bile, which smelled just as horrible as a year-old sewer untouched.

Then, he saw the attacker.

And he might have thrown up a little bit in his mouth. Worse, he did, and he just swallowed his vomit before it even went up past his throat.

It was an alien with the head that resembled an ant eater’s, but with its snout almost thrice the size of its head. And his nose, pouring with disgusting green mucus as solid as it were a tongue, it wailed about like it was an arm.

He was a cyborg from the waist down. The rest of his organic body was intact. Great. So these guys aren’t androids after all.

It laughed at Jason just before he was jumped against and forced to the ground by Raven’s beams. Its laugh was just as horrible as its smell. And at that, he did throw up.

“JESUS, FUCK. SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

He struggled for his guns, but they were inches away from his most outstretched finger at his side, which he couldn’t even flinch. It was solid by now. Absorbed into his skin. He might throw up again.

Jason shook his whole body, screamed for help.

Then, all the way over at the corner, he saw Damian.

He would have held up okay if not for his shoulder. Dislocated, as it seemed. He kept his one arm stuck to his side while the other held onto his one sword. He was covered in his own blood, his knee pads in shreds, and his head about to fall to the ground lugging it around like it were so heavy.

His attacker’s boot crushed his chest, and the boy was sent flying to a wall. He didn’t, couldn’t, pick himself up after that.

“Robin!” Jason cried out. “This fucking SNOT-“

“I got you!”

Roy shot three arrows at the hardened mucus, ran all the way to the other side before Jason could even speak up.

The three arrow heads stuck to him, and in two seconds exactly, they detonated.

Being drowned in a blob of mucus was one thing, but almost tasting it in his mouth when he almost died being blown against it was another. Everyone around him was covered in snot, and he fell.

Damian was still down.

His attacker was coming after him, two blades in its hands. It walked slowly as if to taunt him, to kill. Jason ran faster than his bike would have sped into it.

Then he grabbed one of the drones, an alien that could hover under its feet, then Jason threw it against the assailant’s head just before it swung its swords at Damian.

He was strong enough to send it flying, back hitting the glass. As it lied unconscious on the ground for that little while, and Jason took it to rush to Damian.

“Come on,” he took Robin’s arm, slung it over his shoulder. “Get to safety.”

“I have to fight.”

“You can’t fight like this.”

He hauled the kid to a corner, set a table nearby to hide him away from the scene. The minute his head met the wall he closed his eyes.

Jason shouldn’t have left him alone, or just let him drift off to sleep not knowing if he’d wake up.

But that same cyborg, the one with blades sharp enough to hiss through the air at just a flinch, picked itself up, and it was bleeding.

She was bleeding. A busted lip. Her blood was blue, and she wiped it off her lip with her cybernetic hand.

He could see her gritting teeth, and the growl out of her was no different from a lioness’s. She had the form of an earthling; arms, legs, head, and body no different than it was from a female human, except all her limbs were of steel, her one eye glowing like a bulb of light. He couldn’t point out which parts of her were still skin.

Yet, she bled. Which meant she still had the organic senses to feel the utter annoyance that completely showed off with how she ran to him like a bolt.

Jason rolled himself over to the side, the only thing he could do at that moment he was too stiff to even think, then it was her blades that flashed in front of his neck that if any closer, would have cleanly sliced off his skin.

He ran, though that would have been stupid knowing she was, with just about every limb she had, much faster.

He shot aimlessly and one bullet just bounced off her arm. Fuck.

Jason threw his empty guns away, hauled himself up the many debris on the floor, and his weight against the soles on his feet enough to push him to gain leverage, he grabbed one of the cyborg’s laser guns and shot it right at her.

It hit her in the gut, but it wasn’t enough to throw her off.

“I could use one of these,” he eyed his new sliver gun as big as his whole arm.

She growled again, like it was the only sounds she knew how to make, and she pounced for him just before he flipped off one of the surfaces.

“Oh my goodness gracious! I’ve been bamboo-“

All she grabbed onto was his ankle, and she’d spun him over to a pillar that shouldn’t have been designed to stand in the middle of the floor like it did. She was strong. Stronger than he was. Something was bleeding, somewhere he couldn’t tell. And something was definitely broken.

And he flew across the whole lobby, which was enough to be the size of a small field.

Oh, she wasn’t about to let him go. Damian was nearby. Which meant his sword was, too.

Just as she charged for Jason a whiff suddenly blew her off her momentum. Fast enough to stop, just inches away from being pierced by a red arrow, she turned to Roy aiming at her from above a mezzanine.

The cyborg watched him stand like she was hell-bent on breaking his remaining bones.

Roy shot another arrow. And another.

They would have been enough to pierce through the spaces between the steel slabs on her limbs, but she was quick to move. She ran up to Roy, breaking everything she stepped on.

An arrow was too slow, and it was enough for her to grab it just as it flew.

Then she spun, used its speed that still hadn't left its head, then she deflected it off like a light beam against a mirror, throwing it at Roy.

He skidded off to his side before the arrowhead would have pierced his skull.

And that second of a distraction was all he needed. Jason otherwise never would have hoped to successfully sneak up behind her.

Then it was the shrill screams of their swords, one from her blades and the other Jason had pulled out of Damian’s hip, was a hiss that would have pierced through bone. She was strong, and no way is he going to hold her back for too long. His hands were shaking but he forced it to hold, sword almost down to his chest with her might pushing it hard.

Her eyes were so dark, darker than any emptiness of a sinkhole he’d look into, so devoid of a soul, of life. From that look, and that look alone, he could tell she was one to never break from looking into one’s shaking eyes as she drives any of her blades, or a bullet perhaps, right to their necks.

She looked at Jason like it was just that. Like she wanted it to be the last he’ll ever see before she cuts his chest.

Then a laser beam hit her back, just between the steel slabs where her spine would have been. How many times did his ass have to be saved today?

Jason pushed her with a blow to her stomach, finally throwing her off, but it didn’t take much before she stood back on her feet, stretched her neck. No blood out of her. Shit.

“Be careful!” Cyborg cried out from afar.

“Thanks, Vic!”

She pulled out one of her swords, then he wished he listened to Damian that one time he wanted to spar with Jason to a sword fight in the manor.

If his arms weren’t already so worn out, it wouldn’t be half as much trouble as it was. That’s what he convinced himself, though, even when it probably wasn’t true. Every time Jason could even lift his sword, as heavy as it was even when a twelve-year-old wielded it, the cyborg would throw him off with a slice of her lighter blades, let it hiss long enough to shred his ears for the nth time that day, and she’d spin and do it again before he could stand.

“What the hell are you!?”

A wordless mutter out of her, pushing him off her with her hands and her one foot against his stomach, then he could see, probably a sight he won't forget in a long while, how the side of the blade was as sharp and thin as it was, close enough to his helmet that if his strength falters for even a second, the blade would pierce right into his nose. 

If his head couldn’t stretch to the side to the extent that it did, he’d be dead by then.

Jason pushed her off, hitting the side of her arm with a blade.

Then by some miraculous prayer he couldn’t remember he made himself, he continued to strike his sword until the blade would have cursed at him for wrecking its sides. Back and forth, with their blades screeching at every hit. The cyborg wouldn’t stop, even when it obviously started to hurt. He wouldn’t either. Not until this psychopath was dead.

More beams around him, firing at the incoming reinforcements that would have climbed in and helped her against him. “I got you covered!” he heard Cyborg scream, just as he blew off a hovering bee creature as large as a head that was just about to sting him in the ass. He had to fight through the beams as well, swerve about before they’d hit his skin, and that was hard to do having to wield such a sword and go up against a cyborg who clearly had worse anger issues than he did.

Then.

Then.

It was the most horrific thing he’s ever heard, more horrible than even silence so deathly.

Victor’s screams were not ones he heard so often. He heard it once, back to his days as a Titan. When Victor Stone had been consumed by the Mother Box. The labs had footage of the incident, and the team had to watch it before they’d go on with their investigation.

This. This was no different.

He turned them both around, just so he’d see what went on. On her face was a sinister glare on her face he wanted to break so badly.

One of the pirates, a cyborg of green skin and a face so ghostly stern, blank white eyes, and a hand of steel that had morphed into a large blade, had Victor in his hands.

And his blade, large enough to have cut a tree, pierced through Vic’s chest like the Mother Box wasn’t anything to his kind.

And his kind was something he was familiar with. He’s seen a couple of them on earth.

A Martian.

Then the blade, one that’d shot out of Cyborg, shifted into an arm, then there were wires and steel slabs. It morphed into his chest, then he stopped screaming.

“NO!” he heard voices screech.

His eyes that stared to the terrifying abyss of space from out the window flashed into this blinding white, his body inanimate, his four limbs as still as they were dead. But he wasn’t. The Martian that held him had the same eyes on him.

Then his two arms shot up. The fucking Martian was controlling him like a puppet.

From his arms that turned to weapons, beams shot out of his fist, repeatedly at every direction there was, and those beams stuck to the walls as boom tubes so distorted there was no telling where they’d lead into.

Portals. Open everywhere.

He saw Superman throw off one of the flying drones off his back and it fell right into one of them. It didn’t come flying back.

“Holy shi-“

A punch to his helmet. It wasn’t any friendlier if it were a sword, like a bullet the size of a small chair was thrown to his face, and he fell flat against the wall, rolled over like his skin wasn’t already about to bruise like a banana a few hours from then. 

His helmet didn’t break, thank fuck. But only because he had one of his good ones.

He stood, already so difficult to even do, and Jason stretched out his neck as he looked up, against a blinding light behind shooting out of Victor’s arm, the woman that was walking towards him now with a gun she picked up from her hip.

“You humans are pathetic-“

“Oh, so she does speak!”

Her voice was low and taunting, terrifying enough to make him physically back off even when he had no plans to cower.

But he realized what made it so hard to stand was not because he was too bruised up to move.

A shard of glass made it past his armor, right to his bottom hip. It was shallow but bleeding. He took it out of his flesh and immediately knew he shouldn’t have.

And the stars looked so much closer from where he sat, as he hauled himself up to lay against the glass. Enough to breathe, to close his eyes and look up. At the murderous cyborg about to drive a knife down his clavicle.

More boom tubes started flashing out of nowhere. At his side. A few yards away from his feet.

“Whatever you do,” he heard someone cry out. It sounded like Dick. “Don’t go into the portals!”

She took her time towards him, her blades shrieking, then she eyed him like prey. And he was.

Three arrows. One to her back. The other two right at her feet.

It exploded at the impact, and for the last time, her glare more murderous than any killer he’s ever seen, she was thrown off her feet and went flying into the debris.

Jason tried, with a hand to stop the bleeding, to push himself up and grab the sword that had flung too far for his reach. Roy went after him, pulling at his hand.

“Jason, you have to stand up!”

But the cyborg was too fast, had already healed.

She grabbed her one sword by the blade, and her eye glowed red.

Her knife was flung expertly like the winds were to her will, her power to swerve it to wherever she pleased.

And it struck Roy at his knee, deep enough to hit his bone.

His screams hurt Jason more than his own would have deafened him. And he had to watch, still with his rib bleeding onto the floor, when Roy crawled on the ground reaching for his fallen bow, but the cyborg had run up to him, drove another blade down his thigh, and pulled it out purposely letting the ridges slice off his flesh.

So much of what he saw, as clear as it were, even the voices that echoed he was sure to haunt him for as long as he’d remember, he couldn’t move to do anything about.

Roy’s screams at the cruel cyborg had not much care for his bleeding legs, and the asshole had it in him to push himself to charge.

All it took was a kick with her boot, and Roy was flung over to the back.

But it wasn’t to a wall.

A boom tube opened, as if she’d summoned it herself, and his friend’s limp body fell into that dark hole a second too late for him to reach for his outstretched hand.

“ROY!” He screamed. “NO!!!”

Every part of him, engulfed in the sudden burst, a flame once just from a wick now torched into this inferno, it was that very charge he needed to ignore his spilling blood, how every muscle ached and his breaths too dangerously slow. Jason picked himself up, took his hand off his rib to ignore the blood, and leapt.

He had her on the floor, face down as for once, he caught her off guard. Jason pulled her arm and twisted it the wrong way, even with it of steel, he could feel it hurt. She struggled off him but he pushed all his weight on her, and her muffled screams echoed with her face stuffed to the floor with his force.

Then that very arm he twisted, it stiffened and swung over his face, grabbed onto his neck. Being choked with a hand made of steel definitely wasn’t something he was into, when after just a second of that he could see bright little spots forming over his irises.

She rolled them over, pinned him underneath her. Her screams. They sounded human. But almost everything about her wasn’t, not with how she looked at him. Without a remnant of a soul. Humanity disintegrated like smoldering ash. The eyes of a killer and one who will not hesitate.

His fist against her face didn’t hurt as much as he thought, avoiding the steel at all cost.

Her fist, however, was the equivalent of a metal rod with the weight of a small child being swung against his face, which, even with his helmet on, almost tore out his jaw. His helmet’s optics glowed red, alerting him of an emergency. As if it were any help.

She just kept hitting him, didn’t falter, nor weaken, nor relieve herself from the tight grit of her teeth.

Then she stood up and kicked him in the stomach.

Spitting out his blood inside his helmet wasn’t much of a good idea, but neither would be taking it off.

“You…” she said, and her voice the same as the silent croak of a raven’s howl. “You’re easy to break…”

“I m-might just surprise you.”

Her boot was made for rearranging innards, and his body was welcoming it openly at that point with him not even trying to resist the pain from her hits.

Jason rolled over the floor again. Another kick, and he’d hit the wall. She’d corner him. Drive that knife down his chest.

She was sinister and slow to move, reveling in the pain, at how pale he’d become, and the blood all over that’d spilled on her suit.

Then there was light. Against her face.

He could see her eyes, looking down on him like he was but a pest, stuck to the bottom of her soles. The parts of her that reflected the light, and the rest that absorbed it.

Which meant-

Once more, she swung her foot, aiming for his head.

And Jason used whatever bit of might he had left, grabbed onto her ankle, and twisted it.

He threw her whole body over him, and even with her weight with it not at all like handling a human, his foot kicked up her stomach, threw her over to the other side.

Right into the boom tube that opened behind him, that he had no idea where it led to. Her last screams, screams of bloody murder from which he was sure, if she’d ever find him again, slicing off his neck would be too much of mercy not to make him suffer.

Then the weight, the pain, even the bleeding, they all stopped. He slumped to the floor just feet away from the portal and breathed out the aches on every muscle he had.

She was gone. The hole she fell into. It was too dark to even tell where it went.

Just an ordinary day, it was.

A few minutes before he stood up, he tore out a piece of his shirt to hold it up against his side, where the blood was spilled.

“Hey,” someone called. “You okay?”

It was Roy. Roy. Thank fuck. He was okay. Beaten up and looked like absolute horse shit. But okay.

“Jesus.” He pulled his friend to his chest.  “Christ, I thought you were dead.”

“The boom tubes brought me back,” he said. “You took care of her?”

“Where…” Jason looked about, at the chaos that ensued. “Where’s Victor? Roy, they took Victor.”

“Victor?”

“Cyborg…” That relief, that flush that drove off the pain, it wasn’t enough. Everything still felt like it weighed down his arms. “Where is he?”

“The Mother Box?”

Roy was beaten up, scars all over his arms and face. His lip was busted, and every part of him was bruised and was covered in his blood.

But his grip on Jason’s arm. It was firm. Strong. He felt unbothered, looked at him straight in the eye.

“What did you just call him?”

“Where is the Batman? Can you take me to him?”

“The what?!”

Then his friend’s distraught face, the one that looked as if he climbed himself out of a battlefield barely with all his limbs intact, morphed into a smile so ghostly, and the way his lips curved up were not, in just about any humane way, possible.

“Shit-“

Roy’s arm shed of his light skin, and his hair shifted into this bald, steel slab. Green stared back at him.

“You’re of no use.”

The Martian, the cyborg that led The Fleet, his devious smile was the last thing Jason saw before his steel hand pushed him into the boom tube.

Cyborg once told him, that the farther the portals took, the longer it was he’d have to run through a wormhole. This dark passage, sometimes as black as an abyss, sometimes with enough light to be a train tunnel that lasted longer than a minute. Sometimes it lit up in all different colors and neon signs with no definite shape flashed before you.

A trip from one end of the earth to the other took about half a second to pass through.

One from Gotham to the Watchtower, the one he’d just went through, lasted a good two seconds.

This one.

This one lasted longer than when he had to jump from a helicopter ten thousand feet above sea level.

He was falling, not walking, and there were lights, flashes of it in all kinds. Walls of that very light. There were images. Voices. Faces he’s seen before. Being’s he’s never come to imagine. Creatures from around earth and some he thought never to have existed. Then there were glows, much like the auroras of Iceland, that danced and lasted even as he fell thousands of feet a minute.

Everything was this blur he still could see past, and the winds against his body, the ones that resisted enough of his fall, it was pushing against his muscles like it wanted him to halt, and it was just as painful as a lingering burn of a hot, metal bed, being pressed against his front like a large brand.

The lights were nothing to marvel over, even as they were beautiful. He kept falling, and it was enough for a thought to come up. And he knew he was terrified beyond what he’d ever expect to see.

Then, fuck all else that inhabit the universe. The most wicked alien cyborg in all the stars hadn't finished her trip down this wormhole either, it seems.  

She was still falling, and she did not look happy at all how he’d just hauled her into that same hellhole karma pushed him into as well. Jason caught up to her, as much as he tried to resist, but he was being pulled down faster, enough to reach her outstretched limbs.

And when she saw him, he saw death right into its spectacles.

“Shit-“

She screamed something unholy and foreign, started clawing after his jacket as if they were ever getting out of this alive enough for her to kill him herself, which he hoped won't be the case, as falling to his death seemed the more desirable option than to die by this woman’s nails.

She kept after him, grabbed him by the collar, and landed a good one to his face. He slammed her foot against her hip and even more so did her face convince him that every minute she was alive was another nail to his coffin. She swung about, completely ignored the fact that they were still falling, and he punched back only to keep her still. Which she didn’t. At all.

The lights started to blur, darken, and fade. Then there were flashes of white. Then it was dark. Too dark for him to see. Then it was so bright it hurt to even move his eyeballs.

Then that vigorous flashing halted into the vastness of a bright orange sky, and just as those lights stopped, so did gravity.

The other end of the boom tube faced sideways, which meant he flew out of the wormhole parallel to the ground. Jason was thrown yards away from wherever he came from, then his shoulder hit the sand, sand, and he was spinning like a dough roller on a wooden plank. Over the ground, cushioned by nothing but the pads under his jacket, the sprinkle of salt all over the gashes on his flesh. He rolled for a good minute, only stopped with the ground hindering his speed, and even more so did it hurt when his back hit a slab of stone so close to hit his head.

Then he was flat, on the scorching, orange sand that stung his skin, finally stopped himself from moving for once when it seemed as if he were falling and spinning for the last ten minutes. And that was definitely not one he wanted to go through again.

His breaths were at a pace no human should have ever been capable of, not even to how his lungs were supposed to work. If he still had lungs at all. But his eyes, as much as it hurt to see, they were kept open. And there were no clouds, no stars. The sky was this orange so bright yet dark enough for it to almost be night. And to the horizon he could see, from the sides of his eyes, there was nothing more than sand for miles outstretched.

His head, slowly to not crack his neck at the force, he held it up to further see.

Like a desert in the Middle East. Or in Africa. Egypt, perhaps. Fuck those boom tubes. Fuck portals.

Jason threw his head back onto the ground, even when it hurt, and screamed.

But it wasn’t his screams he heard back.

Steel hands grabbed onto his neck, and on him a weight he shouldn’t have had to withstand.

She was still here, not as beaten and worn out like him, but the sheer amount of aggravation that reflected off her dark eyes screamed at him to not even resist his death anymore if he didn’t want it to be so painful. Her cold, metal fingers dug into his neck, her screams deafened him even further. She was on top of him, restricting all movement, and it seemed she wasn’t interested in beating him up in any other way possible than to see his life be stripped from his body as she tears out every last breath out of him.

“A-are… you… kidding… me…” he gasped. He held onto her hands.

“I’m gonna kill you…” she said, her voice deep and course. “And it’ll be slow. And painful.”

He managed to pry her fingers just enough for him to catch a whiff of breath. “Yeah… got that the first time you stuck your foot up my throat.”

“You talk too much-“

His fist to her mouth, where he knew wasn’t made of steel.

She was weakened. Enough to make her fall off. And he shifted his body to hold her hands down, away from any flesh of him exposed.

If she were any stronger he’d be dead by now.

“LET GO OF ME!”

“Stop resisting and I won't have to kill you-“

“You think you're gonna kill me!?”

“I told you I’d surprise you.”

A foot way down his groin, at regions that made him see white, then she pushed him off her again, fist to his face and the other hand gripping his neck.

At a lonely desert that stretched for miles, the eerie silence, disturbed only by his groans of pain he’d never admit and her deathly screams of torture. At least, when he dies, no one would have to see him and feel bad.

Jason held her fist, and it shook, hurting his wrist, but it was either that or she breaks down his helmet. That resistance was all he had, that last string of life. He was beat. And the pain that came with the blows, it was his muscles giving out to the exhaustion. And it was a pain to even see light. When all he wished, or his body wished, to see was peaceful darkness.

Which led his eyes to drift off to the sky. To have that second of peace before her fist inevitably breaks down his ribs enough to puncture his lungs.

At least, he thought it was the sky.

Skies don’t have two circular orbs of white, a moon, or two of them, twice the size of what it usually ought to be.

That was it. He was seeing two moons now. That was how you know your visions were off and your brain would make up an oasis to convince you that you were walking straight into heaven.

And those same visions led him to believe there was a planet with four rings, just further down the horizon. Oh, was it beautiful. That was indeed heaven. The planet looked as magnificent as Saturn, except this one was a faded green, masked over by the fog. It was large enough that it covered half the horizon at the very end of the desert.

It lasted a minute.

Or a minute too long.

Something flew over their heads.

Was that an engine?

“Stop!”

She was, in just about every way he was as well, exhausted and beaten. Her face bled. Her lip might need stitches.

He pushed her arm off, took her by the shoulders, and hauled her to the ground, and she didn’t even resist falling to her back to look up at the sky.

“You…” she panted. “I hate you…”

“Shut up.”

Jason stood up, and what he held, the sands that fell through his fingers. They weren’t the kind he felt in deserts he’s been to nor the beaches near home.

He heard a noise. One he’s never heard before. It came from behind.

What it should have been was a desert fox, with large ears, black eyes, and a snout similar to a dog’s.

But its ears were nothing proportionate to its little head, and even more so did he think he was hit too many times to be creating images of a fox with only two legs, blue fur, and ears that flapped enough to be wings, hovering the creature past him.

Jason grabbed his hair. Looked up. The two moons were still there. And the lone planet from afar. They should have been gone by now.

But he no longer was on the brink of death and still, he could see them.

He turned around. To the side where the light came from.

And there were three sources of that light, at the other side of a large mountain. Three suns. One as yellow as the sand, one this deep orange, beautiful and dim, and the other, a red that looked more deadly than it would be possible. And they were all falling in different directions.

The last time he checked, Egypt had just about the same amount of suns and moons as the rest of the planet.

Which meant, of course, that there might be a perfectly reasonable explanation, as bizarre as it could be even with the boom tube he just came out of, that he was far, farther away than where he thought to have landed.

His grumpy companion had stood to her feet, and her face, as drained as she was, looked about with the same confusion as he had.

Something flew over their heads again. This time he could see, clearly, that it was no bird.

It was a ship that resembled nothing like an airplane, nor a jet, or just about any aircraft he’d seen.

And it soared further up in the air, leaving a bright blue trail of beams behind it, before it tore through the fabric of space and zapped out of the atmosphere, sending a small sandstorm behind it.

That was an alien space ship.

This was not the desert sands of the Sahara.

Not Dubai. Not Egypt. Nor anywhere he could tell.

A boom tube that lasted that long couldn’t have taken him anywhere near earth at all.

This wasn’t Planet Earth.

This was somewhere far, far away.

She limped to Jason’s side, looking at the three suns setting peacefully. It was a beautiful sight. And he would have marveled over it if his heart hadn't already dropped beneath his feet. She was silent. And tired.

But even as his body told him so, he didn’t feel like resting anytime soon.

His voice was the only one for miles.

“Where the hell are we…”

-----

MASTERLIST

—–

TAGLIST

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[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “An Unknown Void.”

Hope you all enjoy your day today. 

The deep blackness of space surrounded him, or it seemed t, with the lights on the bridge dimed and the blast shield lifted from the wind screen, he could see nothing, well, there was the occasional star in the sky, but according to star charts, this place was supposed to be the darkest  in the known universe. 

He reached down and tilted the ship slightly to the side to give a better view for the onboard telescopes. Scientists had a theory that this place wasn’t nearly as dark as it looked. A couple thousand years ago the Hubble telescope had been turned towards the darkest portion of the sky they could see, and returned with the Hubble deep space images depicting thousands if not trillions of unknown stars that had been invisible to the naked eye and inferior ground telescopes. He expected to see the same thing here.

Adam was not himself a scientist, though he tried his best to keep informed and educated on as many subjects as possible. Partially It Was due to his overwhelming desire for self improvement, while another part of him, a more subconscious part of him had someone he desperately wanted to impress.

He reached down to open the comm line to the science division, “See anything?”

There was only a momentary pause before, “Give us just another minute sir. We are having to recalibrate the telescopes.”

“Oh, is something wrong?”

“We tried taking a picture but didn’t see anything. It was probably just a younger scientist who forgot to remove the lens covers. We should be good to go.”

There was a pause.

“That’s weird.”

“What?”

There was quiet for a long moment, “Sir, we are still seeing nothing. I think there might be some sort of malfunction….”

Adam shifted in his seat, “turn the telescope back behind us and see if it works in that direction.”

“Sir, how would the direction-”

“Just do it.”

There was another long, two minute pause before, “Sir…. the images are coming in and they look…. Fine…”

Adam wasn’t sure what to think, “His first instinct was to assume a blak hole or something was eating up all the light in the area, but blackholes were visible due to their event horizon, and their machines would have noticed the anomaly in gravitation even this far out.”

Then a thought struck him.

Had they reached the end of the Universe. 

No no obviously that wasn’t the case, There were plenty of known galaxies and stars all around them. It was just this narrow speck of the cosmos that didn’t seem to have anything. Somehow that thought made him feel slightly woozy. Adam had never been susceptible to Cosmic Schock, but even he didn't find the thought of an endless black void to be particularly comforting.

“I don’t like it.”

The voice in his head nearly startled him out of his sea, and he frowned in annoyance as Conn floated into view just outside the ship window.

Adam was about to say something scathing to the starborn bust stopped as he saw conn floated with his back to the window staring out at the vast blackness. He reached a hand back to absently touch the screen as if grounding himself against the void. Adam stirred uneasily as he felt Conn’s walls slip. Suddenly his own head was filled with a brimming uneasiness spilling over from Conn himself.

The sensation was strange and unsettling. Conn usually kept his emotions under close wraps, but to see him falter like that was more than strange.

He felt a shiver crawl up his spine.

The starborn had spent his entire life in the void of space, so to have him disquieted by something in space was enough to make Adam nervous as well.

He motioned to his navigation specialist, “Give me a rout back to the nearest star system. Conn, get inside.”

The starborn only hesitated for a few moments before doing as told and floating around the side of the ship..

***

The bright lights blinked on and then off.

They  tended to agree, something strange was going on. Their one large eye blinked once as more lights ran up and down the sides of their body. 

They stared through the analysis screen but the readout indicated absolutely nothing. There was no detectable UV light, or unknown radiation except for the constant radiation and background frequency that was to be expected in space. 

They turned the analysis screen back towards the beginning of the star field to make sure their machine was not simply malfunctioning. It had never done so before, but there was always a statistical likelihood that it might again.When the star field came into view, the screen suddenly erupted with a bright array of blinking lights all with scientific analysis ready for use. That was obviously strange, but they were sure that their equipment was now working. They were about to turn their attention back towards the dark field when something on the analysis caught their eye. It was a bright blinking light, much smaller than the rest but indicating that it was far closer. They zoomed in on that particular indicator and was suddenly pleased at what they found. The signature was familiar, a known mixture of nitrogen and oxygen inside an enclosed container run by fusion energy.

They turned over and floated back through the door and down the tight tunneled hallway.

Bright orange and yellow eyes blinked at them as they passed by the others, flashing their lateral lights in question. They would have answered the questions if the others if they were not hurrying to inform their comandante of their new neighbors

They floated through a hole in the ceiling, or floor as it might have been in any orientation ad met the comandante on the bridge.

They turned, “Zheyar, have you found anything.” Bright lights blinked up and down their body to indicate the question dimming and expanding at moments.

“The dark field is….. Still dark. I can get no readings from it, however it seems that we are not alone.”

Bright lights flashed down their body in response to the news, “Oh, lovely, is it anyone that we know.”

“I believe they are a member of the species we met in the ice field, the ones that put us in contact with the GA.”

There was another bright exchange of lights before the comandante made their decision, “We will have to greet them certainly.”

***

Adam was just prepping his ship for a short warp to the nearest star when their comms specialist suddenly bolted upright in her seat. She leaned forward for a moment pressing her headset against her head, “Sir, sir I have a signal… we are being hailed.” He sat up in his seat, “Way the hell out here. Analyse the signal and send it through.”

There was only a momentary pause before, “Sir, I… its transmitting like a Mike ship.”

Adam perked up, “Mikes! I love those big guys. Hold on, patch the through, and get the translation team up here as soon as you can, I’m gonna need those LEDs .”

It was only minutes later that he had the translation team up and running standing next to him and carefully placing illumination stickers up and down the sides of his body. The little LEDs would brighten and dm in connection with his voice in order to translate to the mikes. 

The screen before him lit up and he was excited to see one of them floating on screen before him.

He smiled, “It is a pleasure to see your kind again.” The little colorful dots brightened and dimmed up the sides of his body flashing in bright neons as he spoke. It was only slightly distracting, but he was pleased to speak to the mikes after so long of not seeing tem.

“It is you!” The creature exclaimed emphasizing its enthusiasm with even brighter light.

“I am happy to see you after such a long time. We had assumed you had returned to your home world.”

The mike flashed lights up and down its body. There was no translation so he assumed it was some sort of gesture like a shrug or a shake of the head would be for humans, “We are sorry that we coil not take your GA’s invitation for a visit, but we did have a deadline to consider. We do promise that our monarchs have taken the offer into consideration and will be sending a delegation soon. We are very pleased at the idea of joining your coalition, though we have had so many things to do as of late.”

Adam’s enthusiasm was picked up by the brightness of the LED stickers, “I am personally very excited to hear that. I had hoped that you would take us up on our offer.” he Tried to avoid using his hands too much knowing that the movement of his arms might obscure the lights, “It seems of an almost astronomical coincidence that we should run into each other. There must be a reason.”

“I assume that you are looking at the same piece of dead space as we are, tell me has your scientific equipment been abl to detect what ours have not.”

Adam shook his head, “I am afraid we are getting no readings from the space, though i daresay our equipment is far less superior in comparison to yours.”

The mike flashd a little, “Sometimes simplicity can outmaneuver complex machines, though I see that we are both lost on that particular subject.”

Adam nodded, “Then I propose that we work together for the time being, I supply manpower and technology?”

“It would be a pleasure to work with you, andI must say that you have found quite an ingenious way to speak our language. Yo wear them well.”

He laughed, “You flatter me. We should dock our ships together if you are willing.”

“The pleasure is ours.”

***

It wasn’t more than a few light minutes later when they had docked themselves with the human ship. The cargo doors opened and a waft of wind equalized the pressure between their two ships. The air on the human ship was just slightly heavier making them sink just a few inches towards the floor, though it was of no concern. The humans were waiting for them, standing against the ground, forced to hold up their entire skeletal structures against gravity. It must have been exhausting for them, and likely took a lot of energy.

Their original analysis of humans indicated that a human would have to eat multiple times a day in order to keep up the energy required to move, but these humans seemed bright and awake and likely well fed. Their leader was waiting for them wearing those bright LED dots in order to communicate as did everyone else who stood with him.

They were surprised to find other aliens with him, and were both eager and interested to examine the strange creatures. They floated forward and were met by the humans who bowed low. Another creature floated around the corner of the wall, and the mikes pulled back in surprise.

One of the Star children.

The human seemed to have noticed their surprise.

“You've met the starborn before?”

“On a few occasions,though we weren't aware they had friendly relations with…. anyone .”

The human twitched its upper body strangely before letting the gesture fall, “he i about as friendly as it gets and that’s not saying much.”

The entire group of them shivered lightly as a cold presence washed over them, “Don’t listen to him, he has a hard time admitting how much he loves me. We have a daughter together you know.”

The human’s head snapped to look over at the starborn two eyes narrowing, “Shut the hell up conn, that is not the first thing you need to bring up in front of the company.’

The LED lights on his body flashed bright green with his anger.

The Mikes watched in fascination.

One of the other strange creatures, taller than the human and with another set of limbs stepped forward to Examine the Mike. Its coloring was brightly colored and quite pleasant. It examined them while they examined her, and soon enough she was surrounded by a swarm of poking and prodding at her joints and limbs and strange carapace. They had never seen anything like it before.

The creature took it gracefully enough though their leader to apologize. They did enjoy learning about new things and new creatures. They were completely harmless of course.

The human waved a hand at the dogs on his sides and arms blinking, “Don’t worry, she’d be happy to assist your scientists. If you would please follow me, we can show you how ur ship works see if there is anything that you find useful.

In the end the two groups took tours of each other’s ships, shared as much scientific information as was possible and then began their conjectures about the dark space which they had come across. The Mikes could not penetrate it with any of their equipment and neither could the humans determine that there was really only one way to explore what lay beyond.

They were going to have to go there themselves.

It was suggested that they simply warp to the center of the darkfield, but that thought was quickly discarded as it involved far too much danger. The human offered to fly his ship slowly out into the abyss while the mikes tracked them to see if their signal was lost at any point which they decided was a good course of action if not very reckless.

They were soon to learn that humans tended to be reckless anyway, which both scared them and gave them no small measure of admiration.

They would soon learn quite a bit about humans.

Though both parties were unaware of a stirring in the darkness. A stirring that was well aware of their presence.

[bookofjin]

Rise of Sixteen States: 304

This year there were many affairs.

Liu Yuan declares himself King of Han.

Li Xiong declares himself King of Chengdu

22 February 304 – 10 February 305

(Jin's 1st Year of Yongxing)

(Han's 1st Year of Yuanxi)

(Chengdu's 1st Year of Jianxing)

3rd Month, wushen [1 May], used the King of Chengdu, Ying as August Brother-Heir and Commander-in-Chief of All Army Affairs in the Centre and Outside, and Assisting Chancellor.

7th Month, bingshen, New Moon [17 August], the General of the Guards of the Right, Chen Zhen, used a decree summoning the hundred companions to enter within the hall, and following that directed troops to punish the King of Chengdu, Ying.

On jihai [20 August], the Minister over the Masses, Wang Rong, the King of Donghai, Yue, and others served the Emperor on a northern campaign. They arrived at Anyang with a multitude of 100 000. Ying dispatched his general Shi Chao to resist them in battle.

On jiwei [9 September], the Six Armies were defeated at Dangyin. Arrows reached the Driving Carriage, the hundred officials divided and scattered. The Emperor that evening favoured Ying's chariot, the next day he favoured Ye.

8th Month [16 September – 15 October], the General who Calms the North, Wang Jun, dispatched Wuwan cavalry to attack the King of Chengdu at Ye, greatly routing him. Ying drove with the Emperor in a single chariot to flee to Luoyang.

11th Month, yiwei [14 December], Zhang Fang coerced the Emperor to favour Chang'an.

The King of Hejian, Yong, led public officials and 30 000 infantry and cavalry to welcome [the Emperor] at Bashang.

(Liu Yuan)

The King of Chendu, Ying, became August Brother-Heir. He used Yuan as Colonel of Garrison Cavalry to the Brother-Heir. Emperor Hui attacked Ying, and stayed at Dangyin. Ying made use of Yuan as General who Assists the State and Commander-in-Chief of the Defence Affairs of the Northern City. When Emperor Hui had been defeated, he used Yuan as General of the Best of the Army, ennobled as Earl of Lunu. Soon after, the Inspector of Bing province, the Duke of Dongying, Teng, and the General who Calms the North and Inspector of You province, Wang Jun, raised troops to attack Ying. Ying's host fought and was defeated. Yuan spoke to Ying, saying:

Now the two garrisons trample on restraint, with a multitude exceeding 100 000. [I] fear we will not be able to manage them with the personal guards and the nearby commanderies' gentlemen and people. Yuan will, Your Highness, return to explain to the Five Sections, assemble and gather a righteous multitude, and thereby hasten to the state's difficulties.

Ying said:

The multitudes of the Five Sections, can they protect and set out already or not? Allowing for you being able to send them out, the Xianbei and Wuhuan are strong and quick like the wind and clouds. How easily can it be done? I wish to serve the Driving Carriage and return to Luoyang, and avoid their spear points, calmly summon Under Heaven to arms, and govern them according to their opposition or loyalty. Lord, what are your thoughts?

Yuan said:

Your Highness is the son of the Martial August Emperor, and has special merits in the royal house. Your power and kindness shine in harmony, the Four Sea's reverent wind. Who would not consider to lose their lives and throw down their bodies for Your Highness? What is the difficulty in sending them out! Wang Jun is an upstart son and Dongying a distant cousin, how could they contend equally with Your Highness?

If Your Highness goes out alone from the Ye palace, and shows weakness to people, is it possible then to arrive in Luoyang? Suppose you reach Luoyang, power and authority will not be restored to Your Highness. A paper calling to arms is a foot-long letter, who will the person be who receives it!

Moreover the Eastern Hu's courage does not exceed the Five Sections. [I] wish Your Highness would encourage and console the multitude soldiers, calming them down and thereby quell them. [I] will, Your Highness, use two sections to destroy Dongying and three sections to put on display Wang Jun. You can point to the day when the heads of the two upstarts will be hanging up.

Ying was pleased and designated Yuan as Northern Chanyu, Assisting the Army Affairs of the Imperial Chancellor. Yuan arrived at Zuoguocheng. Liu Xuan and others elevated him to the title of Great Chanyu. Within twenty days the multitude was soon 50 000. He set his capital at Lishi. He dispatched the Yulu King of the Left, Hong, to lead 5 000 elite cavalry and meet up with Ying's general Wang Cui and resist the Duke of Dongying, Teng. But Cui had already been defeated by Teng, so Hong returned back with nothing done.

Wang Jun sent General Qi Hong to lead Xianbei and attack Ye. Ying was defeated, and held onto the Son of Heaven to run south to Luoyang. Yuan heard Ying had left Ye, he sighed and said:

Ying did not employ my words, on the contrary he is himself running from disaster. He truly has menial talents. However as I and him had words, I cannot but aid him.

Hence he instructed the Yulu King of the Right, Liu Jing, and the Dulu King of the Left, Liu Yannian, and others to lead 20 000 infantry and cavalry, and commanded them to punish the Xianbei. Liu Xuan and others firmly remonstrated, saying:

Jin is without the Way, slaves and lackeys govern us. Therefore the Worthy King of the Right's fierceness does not surpass his anger. Just now Jin's guide ropes are not spread. [If] the great affair is not followed through, the Worthy of the Right will smear [himself] with earth, to the Chanyu's shame.

Now in the Sima clan, father and son, elder and younger brother, are themselves [chopping] each other [like] fish meat, this is Heaven casting aside Jin's virtue and conferring it on us. [If] the Chanyu stores up virtue in his body, and is submitted to by the people of Jin, [he] soon will raise up our nation and tribe and restore the patrimony of Huhanxie. The Xianbei and Wuhuan are of our manners and type, and could be used as helpers, why would [we] resist them and aid [our] foes!

Now Heaven is acting through us and cannot be disobeyed. To disobey Heaven is not auspicious, to go against the multitudes is not helpful. [He who when] Heaven gives does not take, will in turn receive his calamity. [I] wish the Chanyu would not doubt.

Yuan said:

Good. [I] will be raising up the hill to the pinnacle mound, why would I make a hillock! As for Emperors and Kings, when where they regular? Yu the Great was born among the Western Rong, King Wen was born among the eastern Yu. Looking back, they were conferred for virtue, that was all. Now [I] see a multitude of more than 100 000, and anyone of us is a match for ten of the Jin. To strike the march and destroy chaotic Jin is like snapping deadwood, that is all. At best I can complete the legacy of Gao of Han, at worst I will be no less than the Wei clan. How is Huhanxie a sufficient course of action!

However, the people of Jin are not necessarily similar to us. Han had Under Heaven for many generations, kindness and virtue connection to the population's hearts. Thus though Zhaolie [lived] rough and rugged in the lands of a single province, he was yet able contend at an equal level Under Heaven. I am also a sister's child of the Han clan, sworn to be elder and younger brothers. When the older brother perishes, the younger carries on. Can we not do likewise? Now moreover, I can raise up Han, posthumously honour the Later Ruler, and thereby comfort the populace's expectations.

Xuan and others touched head to ground, saying:

[They] are not reaching up [to you].

1st Year of Yuanxi [304 AD], he moved to Zuoguocheng. The Jin people who [came from] the east to adhere were several ten thousand. Xuan and others sent up [to assume] the venerated title. Yuan said:

Now the Jin clan still exist, the Four Regions are not yet settled. [We] can look up to and honour the Exalted August's first regulations, and moreover designate [me] King of Han [while] for the moment delaying the tile of August Emperor. [When I] hear the cosmos is mixed into one [I] will once more discuss it.

10th Month [14 November – 10 December], he had an altar in the southern suburbs, and falsely ranked as King of Han. He sent down an order, saying:

Formerly our Grand Founder [taizu], the Exalted [gao] August Emperor used his divine martial ability to follow expectations, and broadly began the great patrimony. The Grand Ancestor [taizong], the Filial and Civil [xiaowen] August Emperor gave weight to using enlightened kindness, peace and prosperity was the Way of Han. The Generational Ancestor [shizong], the Filial and Martiaizul [xiaowu] August Emperor expanded the territory and repelled the yi, the territory exceeding the days of Tang. The Middle Ancestor [zhongzong], the Filial and Propagating [xiaoxuan] August Emperor, sought and lifted up the capable and outstanding, many scholars filled the court.

Hence the Way of our founder and ancestors strode pass the Three Kings, their achievements exalted as the Five Emperors. For that reason the foretold years were many times the Xia and Shang's, the foretold generations exceeded the Ji clan. But Yuan and Cheng had many crimes, Ai and Ping were briefly blessed. The traitorous subject Wang Mang overflowed Heaven and usurped disobediently.

Our Generational Founder [shizu], the Brilliant and Martial [guangwu] August Emperor was expansively endowed with sagely martial ability. He immensely restored the vast foundation, worshipped Han matched with Heaven, and did not neglect old matters, so that the Three Luminaries' obscurity were yet restored to clarity, the Three Receptacles' darkness were yet restored to visibility. The Manifesting Ancestor [xianzong], the Filial and Enlightened [xiaoming] August Emperor, and the Solemn Ancestor [suzong], the Filial and Articulating [xiaozhang] August Emperor, amassed eras, the blazing light twice revealed.

From He and An and afterwards, the august guide-ropes gradually decayed, Heaven's pace was hard and difficult, the state's government again and again cut off. The Yellow Turban seas boiled in the Nine Provinces, the crowd of eunuchs' poison flowed in the Four Seas. Dong Zhuo following that indulged his careless heedlessness, Cao Cao, father and son, fell rebels, were soon after.

For that reason Xiaomin let go and put aside the ten thousand states. Zhaolie strayed beyond Min and Shu, hoping the stoppage in the end would have exaltation, returning the carriage box to the old capital. How to assess Heaven not regretting the calamity, the Later Emperor was embarrassed and humiliated.

Since the altars of soil and grain were lost and ceased, the ancestral temple have not had blood to eat for forty years until this point. Now Heaven is coaxing its inner self, regretting the calamity to August Han, and making the Sima clan, father and son, elder and younger brother, repeatedly break and wipe out each other. The numerous multitudes are in the mud and soot, scattering to denounce and accuse.

This Orphan is now all at once pushed forward by the crowd of excellencies, to carry on offering to the Three Founders' legacy. Looking at [my] current crippled ignorance, [I] shiver in fear for collapsing in a shallow grave. However, as the great shame is not yet wiped away, the altars of soil and grain are without a host, with gall in the mouth and the roost cold, [I] will strive to follow the crowd's opinion.

He changed Jin's 1st Year of Yongxing to be the 1st Year of Yuanxi [“Inaugural Radiance”], there was a great amnesty Under Heaven. He posthumously venerated Liu Shan as the Filial and Cherished [xiaohuai] August Emperor. He established Gaozu of Han and below, three Founders and five Ancestors, as divine rules and worshipped them. He established his wife, Ms. Huyan as Queen, set up the hundred officials, and used the Worthy King of the Right, Xuan, as Imperial Chancellor, Cui You as Imperial Clerk Grandee, the Yulu King of the Left, Hong, as Grand Commandant, Fan Long as Great Herald, Zhu Ji as Grand Master of Ceremonies, Cui Yizhi of Shangdang and Chen Yuanda of the Rear Section both as Gentlemen of the Yellow Gates, his clan-child Yao as General who Establishes the Martial, the remainder were designated and conferred each proportionally. You firmly declined and did not go.

12th Month [12 January 305 – 3 February], the Duke of Dongying, Teng, sent General Nie Xuan to chastise him, they fought at Daling. Xuan's host achieved defeat. Teng was afraid, he led more than 20 000 households of Bing province to go down East of the Mountain. Thereupon [the people who] lived there were robbed. Yuan dispatched his General who Establishes the Martial, Liu Yao, to rob Taiyuan, Xuanshi, Zhunliu, Zhangzi and Zhongdu, all were lost to him.

He also dispatched the General of the Best of the Army, Qiao Xi, to rob Xihe. The Prefect of Jiexu, Jia Hun resisted steadfastly and did not surrender, saying:

I am a defender of Jin, [if I am] not able to maintain it, why cautiously seek to live therefore serving thieves and miscreants? How could I face accordingly to watch and breath in the world!

Xi was angry, apprehended and wanted to kill him. Xi's general Yin Song said:

[If] the General saves him, [he can] thereby convince [him] to serve you, Lord.

Xi did not listen and thereupon murdered him. Jia Hun's wife, Ms. Zong, had a beautiful figure and Xi desired to take her. Ms. Zong reviled him, saying:

Slave of the Tuge, how can you murder a person's husband then desire to assign [her] without decorum, how is this to you? Why do you not hurry and kill me!

Then she raised her head to Heaven and greatly wept. Xi thereupon murdered her. At the time she was (more than) 20 years old. Yuan heard about it, and greatly angered said:

If it is the Way of Heaven to be perceptive, the view of Qiao Xi has sown seeds!

When the pursuers returned, he demoted his salary four grades, collected Hun's corpse and buried it.

(Cui You)

Cui You, courtesy name Zixiang, was a native Shangdang. As young he was fond of studying, he was discerning and enlightened in the Ruist methods, tranquil, peaceful, humble and withdrawn. From young to old his mouth not once spoke about wealth and profit. At the end of Wei, he was examined as Filial and Upright, and appointed Retainer of the Chancellor's Office. He set out to be Chief of Dichi, he was very kind in government affairs. He retired due to illness, and thereupon was disabled and sick.

At the beginning of Taishi [265 – 274], Emperor Wu favoured the succession from Emperor Wen's old office companions and staff, and attended on the family to designate a Palace Gentleman. Aged more than 70, he still esteemed studying and did not tire. He compiled a Chart of Mouring Clothes, which has come down through the ages. He passed on at home, at the time he was 93 years old.

(Liu Cong)

Liu Cong, courtesy name Xuanming, also named Zai, was Yuan's 4thson. His motherwas named Lady Zhang.Earlier, when she was pregnant with Cong, Lady Zhang dreamt the sun enter her breast. She woke up and told Yuan. Yuan said:

This is a good omen, take care not to talk of it.

Fifteen months from that then she gave birth to Cong, at night there was an exceptional white light. The shape of his body was not usual. In his left ear there was a single white hair, more than two chi long with considerable shine and lustre. As a young child he was yet intelligent and aware and fond of studying, the Broad Scholar Zhu Ji greatly marvelled at him. At the age of fourteen, he delved thoroughly into the the classics and histories, and even more so the assembled words of the hundred schools. In Sun and Wu's Principles of War there was nothing he did not completely understand.

He was skilled with the draft and clerical scripts, and good with composing texts. He displayed and expressed his deepest feelings in more than a hundred chapters of poetry, and more than fifty chapters of rhapsodies and hymns. At fifteen he practised striking and stabbing. He had ape arms and was good at shooting, he could bend a bow 300 jin strong, was strong in body, valiant and agile, ahead and beyond the times. Wang Hun of Taiyuan saw and was pleased with him. He spoke to Yuan, saying:

This boy cannot be measured by me.

As a youth he drifted to the Imperial City, there were nobody of the famous scholars he did not communicate and connect with. Yue Guang and Zhang Hua particularly marvelled at him.

Jin's Grand Warden of Xinxing, Guo Yi, nominated him has Master of Accounts, he served accordingly in the commandery's affairs. He was recommended good and supportive, and entered to became Marshal of Detached Section of Valiant Cavalry. The King of Qi, Jiong, used him as Palace Commandant of State. He set out to be Marshal of the Left Section, and soon after amassed to move to Chief Commandant of the Right Section. He was good at consoling and connected, there were none of the Five Section's prominent and honoured who did not revert to him. The Grand Steward, the King of Hejian, Yong, petitioned him to be Commander of the Palace Gentlemen of the Red Sand.

Cong, since Yuan was at Ye, and he feared he would be murdered by the King of Chengdu, Ying, he absconded and ran to Ying. Ying was extremely pleased, and designated him General who Amasses Crossbows of the Right, Assisting the Battle Affairs of the Vanguards. When Yuan became Chanyu of the North, he was established as Worthy King of the Right, and accompanied to turn back to the Right Section. When he was enthroned as Great Chanyu, he changed his designation to Lulu King.

(Liu Yao)

Liu Yao, courtesy name Yongming, was Yuan's clan-child. He was orphaned young, and was nurtured by Yuan. As a youth, he was yet perceptive and intelligent, and had unusual measures. Aged eight sui, he accompanied Yuan to hunt in the Western Mountains, when they came across rain, and stopped beneath a tree. Suddenly, thunder shook near the tree. None of the people did not fall over and lie down, Yao in spirit and colour was like himself. Yuan was amazed by him, and said:

This is my family's thousand li colt, older cousin is not gone!

He was nine chi, three cun tall, his hands hang down past the knees. When he was born, his eyebrows were white and his eyes had a red glow. His beard and whiskers did not exceed a hundred roots, but all were five chi long. He by nature lifted up and let drop the high and brilliant, and was not among the crowd of the multitudes.

He read books with a mind towards a broad overlook, and did not concentrate on pondering chapters and verses. He was good at composing text and was skilled with the draft and clerical scripts. His gallantry and martial ability was beyond other people. Iron one cun thick he shot and pierced, at the time it was declared to be a godly shot. He particularly fond of military books and could recite roughly all from memory. He often made light of and ridiculed Wu and Deng, but compared himself with Yue Yi, Xiao, and Cao. At the time people did not acknowledge him, only Cong said:

Yongming is in the class of Shizu and Wu of Wei, how are some Excellencies worth mention!

As a youth he drifted to Luoyang, was implicated in an affair and was to be executed. Therefore he absconded with Cao Xun to run to Liu Sui. Sui hid him in a book cabinet, carried, and sent him off to Wang Zhong. Zhong sent him off to Chaoxian. For the remainder of the year, he was starving and hard-pressed. Thereupon he altered his family and personal name, and as a retainer became a county soldier. The Prefect of Chaoxian, Cui Yue, saw and was amazed with him. He gave him clothes and food, his charity and regard was very substantial. Cao Xun, though he was in the midst of a difficult situation, served Yao with the rites of lord and subject. Yao was very gracious to him. Later there happened to be an amnesty, and he was free to return home.

He himself, since his appearance and substance was different from the multitudes, and feared he would not be tolerated during the era, once lived in hiding in the mountains of Guancen, using a qin zither and books to amuse himself. In the middle of the night, suddenly there were two servant boys who entered, knelt, and said:

The King of Guancen sends his young subjects to offer his respects to the August Emperor of Zhao.

They presented a single edged sword, put it in front of him, bowed twice, and departed. He used a torch to look at it. The sword was two chi long, the shine and polish was not ordinary, red jade made up the sheath, on the back side there was an inscription which said:

The godly sword holds sway, removes the multitudes' poison.

Yao thereupon wore it. The sword followed the four seasons and altered to have the five colours.

(Shi Le)

1st Year of Yongxing [304 AD], the King of Chengdu, Ying, defeated the Driving Carriage at Dangyin, and pressured the Emperor to go to the Ye Palace. Wang Jun, since Ying had secluded and humiliated the Son of Heaven, sent Xianbei to strike him. Ying was afraid, clasped Emperor Hui and ran south to Luoyang. The Emperor then was pressured by Zhang Fang, and moved to Chang'an. East of the Passes troops were rising up, all using executing Ying as their name. The King of Hejian, Yong, feared the abundance of the eastern host, and wished to bring together and placate the Eastern Xia. He therefore memorialised to debate deposing Ying.

This Year, Liu Yuan declared himself King of Han at Liting.

(Li Xiong)

1st Year of Jianxing, Spring, 1st Month [22 February – 22 March), Luo Shang arrived at Jiangyang. The Minister of the Army, Xin Bao, went to Luo to show the circumstances. A written decree gave authority to control Badong, Ba commandery, and Fuling commanderies, to supply his army taxes.

(JS066: At the time the Inspector of Yi province, Luo Shang, was defeated by Li Te. He dispatched envoys to announce the urgency and request provisions. Hong circulated a letter to supply and provide. But the provincial office's mainstays and guidelines, as the transport roads were isolated and remote, and the civil and military officials wanting and weary, desired to use Lingling to alone transport 5 000 hu of rice to give to Shang. Hong said:

You Lords have not yet thought about it, that is all. Under Heaven is a single family, this and that are not different. If I today provide for him, then there is no anxiety in looking west.

Thereupon he used 30 000 hu of rice from Lingling to provide for him. Shang relied on it to strengthen himself.)

Winter, 10thMonth [14 November – 13 December], the various generals firmly requested Xiong accede to the venerated rank. (HYGZ: Yang Bao and Yang Bao together urged Xiong to declare himself King.) Hence he presumptuously declared himself King of Chengdu, with an amnesty within his territories, and changed the inaugural to Jianxing [“Establishing the Rise”]. He removed the Jin laws, and condensed the law into seven chapters.

He used his junior uncle Xiang# as Grand Tutor, his commoner-born older brother Shi as Grand Guardian, the Smashing Charges Li Li as Grand Commandant, his junior cousin, the Establishing Domination Li Yun as Minister over the Masses, the Supports the Army Li Huang as Minister of Works, the Talented Officials Li Guo as Grand Steward, Yan Shi as Prefect of the Masters of Writing, Yang Bao as Supervisor, Yang Fa as Palace Attendant, Yang Gui as Master of Writing, Yang Hong as Inspector of Yi province, Xu Yu as Garrisons the South, Wang Da as Army Teacher. For the remaining civil and military officials, he designated and conferred each proportionally.

He retroactively venerated his great grandson Hu as the Mighty [huan] Duke of Ba commandery, his grandfather Mu as the Accomplished [xiang] King of Longxi, his father Te as the Luminous [jing] King, his mother Ms. Luo as Queen Dowager. His senior uncle Fu as the Ardent [lie] King of Qi, his middle uncle Xiang as the Martial [wu] King of Liang#, his middle uncle Liu as the Civil [wen] King of Qin, his older brother Dang as the Strong and Civil [zhuangwen] Duke of Guanghan.

Winter, Shang relocated to station at Ba commandery. He dispatched an army to plunder within Shu. He beheaded Xiong's granduncle Ran, and captured Xiang#'s wife Zan, his son Shou, and his brothers.

12th Month [12 January – 10 February], Xiong's Grand Commandant Li Li invaded Hanzhong, and killed the Battle Leader Zhao Min.

(Zhang Gui)

Reaching the difficulties of the two Kings of Hejian and Chengdu, he dispatched 3 000 troops to proceed east to the Imperial City.

Earlier, at the end of Han, a man of Jincheng, Yang Chengyuan, killed the Grand Warden in rebellion. A man of the commandery, Feng Zhong, attended to the corpse, shouting and weeping. He vomited blood and died.

A man of Zhangye, Wu Yong, was appointed by the Colonel who Protects the Qiang, Ma Xian. Later he was on the staff of the Grand Commandant, Pang Can. Can and Xian defamed each other with crimes that merited death. Each pulled on Yong as evidence. Yong planned and reasoned without the two accepting responsibility, and thereupon he cut his own throat and died. Can and Xian were ashamed and remorseful, and themselves made peace and cleared out with each other.

Gui in both cases sacrificed at the their tombs and honoured their sons and grandsons.

[p-artsypants]

Stars for le prompt game... thingy

OOOOHHHHHH GOOD ONE

New Paris, the jewel of the stars. A luxury ship with only the finest crew for the most regal of clients. After all, not just any star ship could sail through the heavens. It took a Cracker Jack crew, led by an experienced captain to traverse the vast expanse of ever changing space. A hull ornately detailed with rich blue paint and gold leaf molding. Five ivory star-sails, only the most technologically advanced to propel the ship at hyper speeds. And three engines, bolstered with nuclear power that beat the cosmos into submission.

This was the pride of Andre Bourgeois, the ship’s captain.

This was to be Adrien Agreste and his father’s new home for the next six months.

It was daunting, but rarely was change in life not so.

Adrien stood at the dock of the station, staring up at the massive ship with nervous eyes and a quivering stomach.

“Take one last look at that place,” said his father’s cold tone. “It’s likely you will never see it again.”

‘That place’ being home. The colony on which he was born and raised. A beautiful place, with teeming gardens and mountains of crystals that glittered in the duel sunlight. His mother had loved it here in their quiet villa.

But now he was 21, and the rest of his life was beckoning.

Steps thundered down the ramp leading to the ship, coming from two large men and a tiny woman. One man wore a fine blue and gold suit that matched the ship, and a wide brimmed hat with a feather.

The other followed a few steps behind, wearing just a white shirt and trousers, with a red belt around his waist. He had a mustache and kind eyes.

The woman wore a nice black dress with a white apron.

“Welcome welcome!” Said the first man. “Duke Gabriel of Agreste, and Prince Adrien of Agreste, it’s an honor to have you aboard my vessel. I am Captain Andre Bourgeois. You may call me Captain or Andre, whatever you prefer.”

“Thank you, Captain Bourgeois. My son and I are grateful to you and your crew.” Gabriel then gestured to the woman standing with them. “This is my steward, Nathalie Sancoeur. She will also be joining us.”

“The more the merrier.” Said the captain with a smile. “This is Tom Dupain, our chief cook, and his wife Sabine. They are in charge of hospitality aboard the ship. If there’s anything about your living quarters that does not meet your standards, please speak to them.”

Tom said, “I will be taking your bags to your rooms, and then I will be making one last trip to the market before we set sail. Any allergies I need to be aware of?”

“My son is allergic to feathers, and I can’t eat mollusks.”

“No escargot then? No complaints here.” Tom smiled broadly.

“Please,” began the Sabine. “If you will follow me, I’ll show you to your quarters.”

The group climbed the ramp, and surfaced on the deck, where crew were hard at work preparing for launch.

The captain blew a whistle and shouted, “attention!”

The crew hurriedly fell in line by rank, rushing to their designed spots.

Once they were all accounted for, the Captain spoke again, “I will repeat this again for anyone who wasn’t listening the first seven times I briefed the mission.” He gestured to the guests. “His Royal Highness Prince Adrien, and his father Duke Gabriel of Agreste are our esteemed guests for this voyage. We will be escorting them to the settlement of Agreste for the Prince’s coronation. This will be a six month journey, with seven ports of call. During this voyage, I expect you all to treat our guests with as much honor and dignity that a group of spacedogs can muster. Shenanigans and tomfoolery will not be tolerated. All those who break this rule will be locked in the brig and then escorted off the ship at the next port. Do I make myself clear?”

The crew answered in perfect unison. “Sir, yes sir!”

“Then as you were.”

Just as they had assembled, so they departed back to work.

“They are a good group,” the captain assured. “You just have to keep expectations high.”

“Certainly.” The duke agreed.