#space fiction

[thepenultimateword]

More alien thoughts:

So you know how fireflies glow in order to attract mates? What if there was an alien species that did that. They may be insectoid, they may not be, but in any case, they just flirtatiously light up at people they’re interested in. Or maybe they also just use it as a sign that they want to form friendly relations. So when they first meet other species they blink their lights at them to show them they’re friendly.

I was reading someone’s post about how a lot people dislike bugs but like fireflies because they glow. So maybe most humans warm up to them pretty quickly because the lights immediately make them seem more cute and appealing. Later, humans need to differentiate a friendly blink from a flirtatious one.

Meanwhile, a mimicking species also glows, however they use their glow to draw in prey (like a lantern fish does). Knowing that their sister species is peace loving and trusted by the other species, they use their similar luminescent abilities to their advantage. Space soon needs to learn to pick out little differences between the two species so they know what they’re getting into when they’re glowed at—do they think you’re cute or do they think you’re dinner?

Aaand because I love unlikely relationship dynamics, maybe in very rare occasions, the aggressive species actually does come to like a human/other species, but people have a hard time trusting them because of the general behavior of their planet.

I’m imagining a human with an aggressive glowing partner, and they’re introducing them to friends like, “Look, my partner is so cute! They glow at me! It was so cute how blinky they were when we first met!”

And then everyone is like “O.O That’s one of the homicidal ones…”

[alexbraindump]

the optimism of mundanity in sci-fi

[word count: 980]

Mundanity serves my favorite role in worldbuilding. Beyond fictional politics, cultures or races sits the - often overlooked - role of the mundane. The things we do in our day-to-day lives. Where we keep our keys, our routines before going out for the day, the junk we may leave lying around. It’s part of a tiny picture that lingers in the shadows of the vast worlds we build and stories we weave. Yet from that snapshot blossoms a viewpoint dripping with relatability, one that places you into the shoes of a character living in that world to a capacity far beyond that which anything else could even hope to achieve.

When I’m writing a character introduction, it’s about more than just the character’s current position and desires. It’s about integrating the world into their life. If space travel is a commonplace fixture of their world and they own a spaceship, what’s the role of that ship to them? Is it like a car, a mobile home, a flying armory? If it’s like a car, have they left it stock, or have they modified and tuned the way a car lover would in real life? If it’s like a home, what furniture do they deem priority, do they keep it clean, is there any decoration? If an armory, what’s the weaponry of this universe like, what kinds of weapons do they want to keep loaded, how organized is it? (check out the first chapter of my story 501-b, also on this blog, if you wanna see where that though process brought me ;3)

Opportunities for both character and worldbuilding are already pouring out from that simple hypothetical. So many things can be said right away with the mundane relationship between a character and their mode of transport. To them, that’s just how it is, nothing special. The same way you’d look at a car. To the reader, though? That’s a nuclear bomb of information you just detonated in their face and they probably didn’t even realize. If you get how a character views their ship, you already start to understand their personality and the role of space travel in that world right off the bat.

It’s always been alluring to me, an element my mind would hook its foxy paws onto right away. While the lack of it wouldn’t bug me much, I’d always start to wonder about it later. Where does this character live, what’s their home look like? By no means am I arguing that this is an absolute necessity to make a good story. Every story has its own unique needs that can be filled however the creator sees fit. But for me, what I want to see and make more of, is something more down-to-earth. And while a good chunk of that is - admittedly - just me being a neurodivergent nerd, I feel like there’s something more to it. Forgive me for getting a little pretentious from here on out, but-

Mundanity in sci-fi is optimistic. It’s this tinge of reassurance that, no matter what happens, no matter how bad things get or how far we make it away from our home planet, we’re still individuals. Whether its huge, bombastic threats like scary evil aliens, or depressingly real ones like corporate overreach and profit motives, we will persist. There’s comfort in that.

When I get to see a character doing their morning routine in a world separated from our own by anything between decades to centuries, it feels good. Like the artist/writer is patting me on the head and saying “there there, things may be shit, but life isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.” And maybe there’s a nihilistic twist on it, like propaganda on a television or corporate products lining a comfy home’s shelves, but that’s still a television or a home. They may come home from the Sub-Minimum Wage Employee Pulper 9,000™, and that will inherently be sympathetic, but when we get to see them toss their coat aside and go to the kitchen to make a lazy, unhealthy meal and slouch on their sofa and pick up a television remote to flip to their favorite channel, the connection that forms is irreplaceable.

And I feel that it’s severely underutilized. When I watched Andor for the first time (amazing show btw, check it out even if you aren’t the biggest fan of starred wars) and we got to see a character return to their mother’s apartment and eat space cereal with space milk, it was somehow one of the most jarring moments I’ve seen in a Star Wars thing. Living situations are oftentimes such an understated part of popular sci-fi media that I actually felt jarred upon seeing one. And I loved it.

That’s just how uncommon they can be. And I hate that. I hate that sci-fi loves to dismiss the mundanities of life, because those are when I feel the most at-home in a universe. I can immediately feel a character’s vibe if I see them kick their feet up in a messy impromptu living room in their spaceship. While you can put in the work to make me feel that same thing through dialogue and actions, it’s arguably even more work.

So next time you’re making a story, why not save yourself some trouble and show your audience a little snippet of day-to-day life in your world? Show us what a character’s phone looks like and how they use it, or maybe if they have a wallpaper (if applicable) or any stickers on the back of it? Or give us some tiny details about how they get from place to place. Is public transport a thing, do they own their own vehicle of some kind, or do they just walk? Hopefully these thoughts conjure the same kind of inspiration in you as the ones that run around wreaking havoc in my little fox brain.

[harrybyharry]

Sunshine, dir. Danny Boyle, 2007

[aksm]

hi this is probably my best short story i wrote it on my phone in one afternoon pls enjoy thank also ignore the bad formatting ok thank for real this time

Planetbound

A tale of the unplanned trajectory of one, Ijva’Yut Brie towards the planet Blivenn. Also the tale of one, Uribb Fliss and their slight incompetence in the face of grave emergency.

The planet was made for life to excel in. But these days there was not much there. A million inhabitants distributed and clustered across the three main continents. The lush greens of forests and the dark navy of the vast oceans and the intermittent spirals of white clouds that one would see out of the spacecraft window would remind one of the brochures about zoological preservatories or exotic vacational destinations. It was a beautiful planet that was smaller than most moons, with a naturally enriching atmosphere.

But as a small, malfunctioning spacecraft strafed through the void towards the planet, all it's pilot could think off was how the planet would tear all the plating off of the spacecraft and burn everything inside for even attempting to enter into its atmosphere.

\---

***

Uribb watched from the center console, straining to take their eyes off of the holofeed soap they were so engrossed in. None of the equipment and monitors were saying much. It was a Tuesday. No ships were scheduled to arrive or depart from this isolated planet. It was meant to be a slow day. Slower than usual, at least.

The equipment they were surrounded by was ancient, humming loudly as they operated on a system older than some civilizations. But away from all of this old junk of outdated tech, on a newly installed terminal on the far side of the room, was a flashing red light and a persistent chirp begging for attention.

Uribb slid their chair towards the terminal, a little worried. They never paid much attention to how this terminal worked, only that their supervisor scoffed at the notion that it would see much use.

And this supervisor had taken the day off, leaving little old Uribb to run the space traffic control tower alone.

Uribb saw the planet on the new terminal, more detailed and with more strange numbers and features than the center console would show. And above this highly defined planet, entering a pale line demarcated with what was obviously the altitude number, was a spacecraft.

Uribb turned to the old consoles they were more familiar with, but the machines were silent, oblivious. They had not detected any ship. Of course they had not. The planet was centuries behind on anything the main planetary systems used. And the new terminal was a mandated endeavour by some bereaucratic agency so far removed from the happenings of this planet that did not even register the usual ships that made their landings and takeoffs.

Which meant that the ship about to enter the atmosphere was a newly designed ship, possibly not even meant to enter a planet with atmosphere.

Uribb's eyes widened. The red text that flashed on the corner of the screen was a series of numbers alien to them. They touched the text, grimacing, hoping it would reveal what it meant.

And it did.

Touching the text zoomed the simulated feed in to what the emergency was.

The craft was highlighted as moving in at high speed, and it was ever so slowly on free rotation. And based on the rotation, it would enter the planet facing away from it.

That was bad. Uribb wondered where the thermal shielding was on the ship. Possibly on the nose, right? Maybe it was not meant to enter the planet's atmosphere the conventional way. Maybe it was meant to face away, so that it's thrusters would counter it burning up.

But obviously this ship was not meant do that. Uribb wondered if it even had enough rocketpower to counter the speed of which it would descend.

That is, if it actually managed to come through the atmosphere.

No. Right now Uribb knew nothing about the ship except that it was new, and only interfaced with a terminal they were not too familiar with.

Why had their supervisor taken that leave? Only two souls operated the tower, and now the more experienced one was not here to handle this emergency.

\_\_

***

Ijva knew her message had reached the tower in the planet below, but for a solid minute of her craft hurtling closer and closer to the planet, there was no reply.

And then there was a voice on her headset, panicked and frantic.

"Er, this is Drosta Control Tower. You're coming in too fast and you're craft's angle is off course. By that I mean you're rotating. Is there a problem? I mean, what's the problem?"

Ijva took a deep breath.

"Drosta Control. I am pilot trainee Ijva'Yut Brie, flying solo as per my final test cruise around the solar system. I am experiencing engine trouble. Ah, full engine failure. Auxiliary power keeps rebooting. Error code five niner niner niner three alpha. I am being pulled into the planet by gravity and nothing else. Requesting tractor team."

There was a pause, but Ijva could hear the breathing.

"There is no tractor team." The reply was almost a whisper.

"Come again, Drosta Control?"

"Is your ship capable of traversing through atmospheres about 90% in the Brilder scale?"

"No. The rating is 60% atmosphere."

"Fuck."

"Hey, er. Drosta Control. Is there any tractor team dispatch I can link up with?"

"There is no ground nor orbital based tractor system on this planet. Ok. Ok. Umm. The auxiliary power. What did you say about it? It keeps rebooting?"

This time Ijva was the one who paused, and though panic was not something she felt when the engines first gave up on her, it was definitely setting in now that she learned there was not going to be a tractor rescue.

She was going to slowly get pulled into the planet and burn up and crash and there was nothing she could do about it.

\_\_\_\_\_

***

Uribb scanned the pages on the manual about the making of the ship that was inside the planet's orbit now. There had to be something. Something that could reveal why the auxiliary system kept rebooting.

They still had time. A few hours, at least, before the ship would irreversibly be in the clutches of the planet, it's fate to crash set in stone.

Uribb found the page on the auxiliary system, but came no close to finding out why it did not kick in without issue. Uribb also tried to calm both themself and the pilot Ijva by constantly updating and talking on the comms, knowing how unprofessional they were being. Professionalism all but flew out the window the first time they used an expletive.

 "Are you new?" Ijva asked when there was a lull in the chatter.

"New? No. I mean, kind of. My supervisor isn't here and I'm the only one who is. Here."

"I doubt your supervisor could help. I'm not going to lie. Without a tractor hook, I don't think this ship can be saved. I… I should've known. This planet is called Brivenn, right? The planet that used to be like a hotspot a millennia ago but is just another ghost planet now with no current gen apparel? Sorry, that didn't come out right."

"I'm sorry, Ijva. I can't find anything about a auxiliary power being stuck on reboot."

"It's not stuck on reboot, it's rebooting constantly."

"Sorry, that's what I meant."

"What's your name?"

"Ah, Uribb."

"Ok, Uribb. Just calm down. We still have time before, you know. We can figure this out."

Uribb did not understand the gentleness in her voice. Moments ago she had not taken the news about the nonexistent tractor team well, and now she was back to being calm.

Uribb kept looking at the terminal, pushing buttons, hoping to find an answer to this harrowing problem.

"Are you local?" They could hear Ijva ask.

How did that even matter at a time like this.

"Yes. I was born offworld, but my parents And everyone before them all hailed from here. Are hailing from here, I mean. Ok. There should be a bypass switch below the left throttle arrangement—" Uribb's hope went up as they realised a new avenue the pilot could explore to take control of her ship again, but the hope was immediately extinguished when ijva cut them off.

"I tried the bypass switch just now. Nothing happened. I don't think the problem is bad sequencing or the computer. It's something else. So, why'd you become a space traffic controller?"

The nonchalance in her voice as she asked the question was worrying.

"Look. We can figure this out. I know you said we have time. But you're in an emergency situation up there." Uribb tried to change the urgency in their voice to a more stately and controlled tone.

\_\_\_

***

The panic in the controller's voice was gone, replaced with a sort of stoic determination. For the past few minutes Ijva was numb to the urgency and futile efforts to address technical nonissues Uribb kept bringing up hopefully. Hoping they could fix the problem from down there. Or at least help guide Ijva to the solution.

But the truth of the matter was the auxiliary power was not meant to replace the engine power. Which meant even if they got the power back on, the chances of her managing to escape the planet's gravity by solely relying on the weaker back up thrusters were, if she dared to be optimistic, frighteningly low.

She did not have the heart to disclose this to Uribb. Maybe she should.

But the part of her more intent on survival and hope kept the words out of her mouth. If Uribb, in their manic searching, found something she overlooked, well. She might have a chance.

"I became a space traffic controller because it seemed like a high paying side gig." Came a soft reply.

Ijva smiled.

"Side gig?"

"Yeah. My uncle got me this job. Usually I'm in charge of import and export cargos following a fixed schedule. And sometimes I'll be guiding passenger cruisers. But those ships were all built for planets like this. Planets with atmosphere and stuff. It's a pretty straightforward job, especially in a quiet world like this. So the situation we're in right now? I am sorry to say this but I am not prepared for this at all. But I am going to find a way to help you. So please just hang in there."

"If this is your side gig, what's your real job?"

There was a pause, and Ijva was left to wonder if it meant Uribb found something else she could try or if her question was more probing than she intended.

"Ok, I lied. When I first took up the job I thought I was just going to do it temporarily. Get some quick income so I can move on to something else. Find my calling. But the money, it's good. And I got scared. What if there was nothing else out there for me? I was good at doing this space traffic stuff. And it pays well. I should just stick to it, right?"

Ijva sat, staring at her console as her ship ever so slowly rotated freely as it went on its way planet bound.

"What's your calling?" She asked.

***

The question and all it entailed was not something Uribb wanted to think about at a time like this. But the question and the blunt frankness and innocent curiosity of it still cut through into Uribb.

"Not this. Fuck it. I'm calling my supervisor in. He can get here in an hour. In the meantime can you try manually controlling your pneumatics? Stop your spin and hell, even slow your speed?" Uribb asked.

It was a dumb instruction. The pressurised air in a ship was to be used sparingly as a means to make minute corrections. To attempt what Uribb suggested was to waste that precious air doing silly maneuvers. Air that could be used for the corrections on the trip back to wherever Ijva was headed.

But even if she ran out of air before she reached her destination, even if she could no longer perform her little adjustments, it did not matter. The worst outcome would be getting tractor hooked back into course as she reached her planet.

Which would be the best outcome for her now if this planet had any tractor systems.

Uribb was suddenly pissed that there was no tractor system on Blivenn. Even for a planet millennia behind on technology, that was an oversight too large and glaring. The mandate could send new terminals to the control tower but not planetary tractor systems?

They shook the thought away as they called their understandably weary supervisor and updated him on what was happening. There was a shocked grunt and a promise to be in the control room within the hour, and the line went dead.

"Hey, er. If you don't mind I don't think I'll mess with the pneumatics. I don't think it'll do too much good." Ijva stated.

"We still need to find a way to slow you down."

"Yeah, and the only way to do that is with the main engines."

"Fuck."

"You're right," Ijva said, and Uribb swore they could hear the smile in her voice, "This isn't your calling."

***

The light from the sun stopped playing on the inside of her ship as the craft finally pirouetted away from its view. Ijva saw as the solar readout spike in power as the arrays lining the outside got a fresh gleam of starlight.

The planet below came into view again, it's cloud formations so erratic and beautiful.

"What do like to do down there?" She asked.

"What? Like, for fun?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. It's spring where I am now so we're going to have a festival to mark the passage of winter. It's called Frosta Ku Jiewei"

"Seasonal festivals, huh?"

"Yeah. This one's the important one. What about you? Where are you from?"

"No planet as pretty like this one."

"I'm guessing one of the city dome planets."

"Yeah. That's why I'm not flying on a hardier ship. My planet has like 26% atmosphere compared to yours."

"What colour is it?"

"My planet?"

"Yeah. I've… Never actually been to space. But everyone who comes in or goes out, well I speak to them over the chatter. Little conversations. They always describe Blivenn as a small, moldy, trystberry. All green and blue and white. And the city dome planets they visit are all monochrome. Greys or purples or dull oranges. What colour is yours?"

"White. Whiteish blue. It's a frozen over planet."

"That's so cool."

Ijva wanted to point out there was nothing cool about a desolate, barren world where the only signs of life were either on the subterranean underwater city domes or the bacteria and microbes that floated through the deuterium water surrounding the domes.

Because the planet below not only had humanity, it had animals. Fauna, flora, all natural and living together with people. A rarity nowadays where there were new laws about colonising preinhabited worlds.

"That's not all. Our city dome is under water."

"I swear, you guys are living in the future."

"We are. But sometimes the progress handicaps us. Makes us rely on new concepts and theories and ideas that we just all unanimously agree on."

"But it's not really unanimous, is it? Unanimous among the first worlds maybe."

"Yeah, exactly. Unless we find a way to actually educate, enforce and implement whatever new shit that we want to normalise in all the worlds, there's no unanimous anything. I mean, your planet doesn't even have tractor teams. That's, like, standard where I am. I wouldn't be in this situation right now."

Ijva wondered if she was being offensive. It was not nice to talk about first worlds or second worlds or third worlds like this. But she was so frustrated. Because of some logistical issue she was going to die.

"Are there seriously not any dense atmosphere planets among the first worlds?"

"Not really. Unless you count those cattleplanets. You know, where the planet's sole purpose is to grow our food. My dad brought me to one once. Just the stench that entered the ship when the ramp lowered was enough for me to swear off meat. But it was a cool experience. To be able to just land our ship and open our ramp to the elements without wearing any spacesuits."

"That's what you can expect when you land here." Uribb said confidently.

And just like that the happy memory of that trip her father brought her on dissipated, the reality of her predicament hit her like plunging into icy water. And suddenly the planet below lost its beauty. It looked very alien and threatening as it pulled her and her ship into it.

"The stench?" She asked jokingly, hoping her voice did not betray the sudden bout of fear in her heart.

There was laughter on the other end, and it put her slightly at ease. Only slightly.

She hesitated, then asked, "Can... Can I send you a message? To pass on to my father?"

\_\_\_

***

"What? No. Listen. My supervisor will be here soon."

"And what can they do?"

"I… I can't. This is too much." Uribb was hyperventilating.

"Look, I'm sorry if me going to burn up in your atmosphere is too much for you to handle, but I need to get my affairs in order." Came a tired, sarcastic voice over the comms.

"Sorry. Of course. Uh, send the message through."

There was a long pause. Minutes maybe. Uribb continued pouring over multiple tablets and the terminal. They knew more about this spacecraft now more than anyone else on the planet. But they still did not know what could trigger the auxiliary systems to enter a bootloop.

Meanwhile she was still up there, writing her message to her loved ones as she flew 19.93 meters per second in a catastrophic arc into the planet. A trainee pilot. Uribb wondered what kind of ship she wanted to fly after she got certified. What kind of jobs she wanted to take.

They almost asked the question, as well, but thought against it. What was the point? The woman had accepted her fate. And that fact was scary to Uribb. They had failed this person.

Where was Werfig? Where was their supervisor?

But Ijva's words echoed in their mind. What could their supervisor do? It was an unfair question. Werfig actually attended many courses for space traffic control, unlike Werfig, who learned on the job.

If anyone could offer a different perspective, if anyone could take a step back and look at the problem and decode the root of it it was Werfig.

"I'm sorry. About being curt earlier." Ijva said after a while.

"You have every right to be. I was being tactless and selfish."

"Yeah, but. We're in a shitty situation."

"But the only person in any danger is you."

"That's true. But whatever the outcome of this is it'll stick with you forever. You know that, right? You're not exactly in the safe zone from that."

"God, we need to find a way to rescue you."

"No shit."

"Hey, uh. How is it? Flying a spacecraft?"

"I thought you talk about this stuff all the time with other pilots in the chatter."

"Well, people are different. Their experiences are different. I want to know why you want to take up a pilot license."

"I don't know. I never gave it much thought. I'm from a family of pilots. It's more or less expected of me to at least get a pilot's license even if I don't plan on making a career out of flying. And I don't know how to describe it. When you escape a planet's gravity and are just floating through a vacuum untethered, it's like... Comforting. Freeing. Literally. There are no forces acting on you unless you push that throttle or pull that lever. You're in control of your own trajectory, your own path. It's a euphoric feeling. I don't know. Is that what the other pilots say?"

"Hey, ah. I can see your ship's monitor from my terminal here. And right now I can see a temperature discrepancy in your systems." Uribb stared wide-eyed at the terminal.

"Switching to thermal view now and... Yeah. It's just in this region. The conduit manifold—"

"That's delivering power to the auxiliary systems. Ok. You got ice in your wirings. That's fine. We can figure something out."

"Holy shit how did I miss that?"

"It's ok. It's ok. Err.. Do you have your tool kit?"

"Yeah way ahead of you. How much pressure should I use to flush the systems?"

"Ok, just to confirm, you're going to use the demineralised gas cylinder to—"

"Pump the ice into the exhaust, yes." Ijva's voice was impatient.

"400 psi should be enough."

"Are you sure?"

"That's what the schematics rate your ship internals' maximum pressure to be."

"Pray for me, Uribb."

There was a static hiss over the comms.

And then Uribb saw the ship's display disappear from the terminal.

\---

***

Ijva plugged the hose from the cylinder to the opening under her seat and locked the valve into place. She took a deep breath and opened the the valve on the cylinder.

The ship shuddered beneath her seat and the screens went dark. The everpresent hum of the air supply disappeared, along with the periodic clicks and ticks of whatever instruments made those sounds.

The ship was fully, completely turned off.

Ijva took a deep breath and turned the power on.

The screen in front of her went through the boot sequence, trying to turn on the main engines but upon failing, opting to cycle power through the auxiliaries.

She held her breath as the screen showed her all the checks being performed on the auxiliariy power and... The hum returned, the ticks and clicks resumed, the rest of the screens turned themselves on.

And most importantly, the auxiliary engines rumbled to life.

"Uribb! It worked! I have auxiliary power." She shouted over the comms, her hands shaking.

There was a jovial exclamation from the other end.

"Ok, full speed away from the planet! Go!" She heard Uribb say.

"What?"

"Seriously. Do it now. Before it's too late! Once you're fully out of the gravity well you can conserve your engines and get to a planet you can actually land on."

"You're asking me to make lightspeed hop to a different system on auxiliary power? Out of the question."

"It's not as risky as entering Blivenn's atmosphere. Your thermal shields aren't meant for 90% atmosphere."

"I won't come be coming in headfirst. I'll be facing away, use my thrusters to counter the gravity. Are there any large bodies of water at a high elevation?"

"Ok, you need to listen to me. That is a bad idea."

"Where's your supervisor?"

"I don't know. He'll be here soon. But—"

"I'm sorry, Uribb. I think this is the only way. If you won't help me—"

"I never said that. Ok. Ok. Body of water at high elevation. I'll send you a heading in a moment. But seriously. Even at this high elevation you're aiming for you're still looking at like 80% atmosphere. Are you seriously hoping to crash land on water and take your chances?"

"Yes."

"Why? The chances of safely going to lightspeed on auxiliary power is still higher than this."

She had considered the possibility, but she was afraid something else on her ship would fail her. Continuing the rest of her journey towards safety on a ship running just on back up power did not instill any sort of comfort in her.

No, she needed to land.

"I'm entering the atmosphere now. Those coordinates would be great so I can make my adjustments before it's too late. Body of water. High elevation. Go. Now, please."

There were some deep breaths over the comms.

"I can't believe Werfig isn't here already. He's missing some of the biggest mistakes we're making. There. The coordinates. That's the tallest volcano on the planet. A little bit aways from the equator. From where you are."

"Volcano?"

"It's when tectonic plates in a region—"

"I know what a volcano is, smartass. Why are you leading me into one. Is it dormant?"

"I mean, obviously it's dormant. It has a lake up top. The volcano is called Putkinni. A tourist hotspot. You'll love it."

"Ok. Plotting the course there."

"I'll inform the authorities there to pick you up."

"Holy shit. Holy shit I can feel the air already. The ship's beginning to shake."

"It's only going to get more violent for the next few minutes."

"Please. Keep the line open. No matter what."

"I won't close it. Why would you even think I would close it?"

"I don't know. Maybe your nerves will get the better of you and you don't want to hear me scream."

"Ijva. Ijva you're doing something so crazy and brave. I won't even think of cutting off."

"I don't know. Fuck. This was a bad idea. I should have went to lightpseed like you said. Send out a distress call and shut everything off and waited for a tractor team near the main planetary systems."

"Well, don't think about that."

"If I don't think about that I'll have to think about what I'm doing now. Fuck. I've never felt the ship shake this much. It's not built for this."

"Ok, listen to me. No. Repeat the plan back to me."

"Ok. Steady thrusters for now as the ship makes its angled descent to the volcano. Once we're nearing the complete breakage of the ship's structural integrity you'll let me know and I'll max out the thrusters. Hopefully this doesn't just violently tear the ship apart but instead gives me a wider room to really slow down and land safely on the water."

"You sound kind of funny like that."

"Like what? Like someone is violently shaking me as I'm trying to speak? I swear I'm going to bite my tongue off if I keep talking. God, I'm really scared."

"Everything is sound. Your ship is fine. And once you land and they rescue you, why don't you come find me. Alright? It's good that you didn't jump to lightspeed. In a few days we can observe Frosta Ku Jiewei together. See the local tradition."

"What?"

"The festival for the passing of winter?"

"Fuck. Right. Sorry. You mentioned that."

"Can't wonder why that slipped your mind."

"AH! Did you hear that? I felt that! I felt something break off."

"Relax. I can see your ship from my terminal. You're doing great. Your angle is alright. Your heading is good. You'll need to turn up the thrusters in a few, but that's fine. I'll tell you when."

"Fuck. Fuck. Hey. We forgot something really important."

"I really don't want to know."

"I don't think I'll be conscious to turn up the thrusters. You know, because of the g-forces' effect on the human body we forgot to factor in."

\--

***

Uribb's breath caught on their throat.

"You're right. Damnit."

Uribb did some mental math. If she pulled the thrusters now it would mean she would veer off course. And off the cuff course corrections were dangerous, especially if she were to lose consciousness while making them.

And if she passed out before it was time to pull the thrusters as per planned, than she would not survive the crash for sure.

Uribb felt the door to the room open and the familiar strikingly thin visage of Werfig rushing in.

"She's coming in hot. But she might not be conscious to pull her thrusters." Uribb said, stumbling over their words.

"Who are you talking to? Is your supervisor there? Ok. Uribb. It's happening. I'm losing colour vision." Ijva said over the comms.

"Is there a way to automate that? The thrusters?" Werfig asked, panting.

"Not in this ship."

"Ok, you'll need to do short bursts of the thruster. Starting with a 3 second prolonged burst. Do it now."

Uribb watched as the ship slowed, causing it to, as expected, go off the plotted course.

Werfig watched the terminal, too, eyes wide.

"By God. You're planning to land there? Have you told anyone? It's a public area." Werfig scrambled to the other consoles.

"Yeah, yeah I did, Werfig. I did. But using the thrusters like that means she won't be able to land there."

"Pilot, what's your vision like, now? How are you feeling?" Werfig asked.

"I, ah. It's the same. Better. I don't know." Ijva's voice was slow.

"Ok, you have to adjust your seat angle. About 30 degrees upwards should ease the blood flow." Werfig advised.

"Copy that."

"We can't use the thrusters like that. She's already strayed too far off course." Uribb said, looking at the new projected path of the ship.

"Are you an experienced pilot, ah..."

"Ijva. And no. I'm a trainee."

Werfig swore.

"Sorry. Ok. Did the seat angle help?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it did."

"Ok. Pay close attention, Ijva. For the next thruster burst, you're going to angle your ship back into trajectory. I am not going to lie, it'll require a lot of precise control of your pneumatics. Now, those pneumatics aren't meant to be used in an atmosphere, so we'll be have to use most of not all the air in the reserve to do this. But that's fine. Are you ready?" Werfig asked, and Uribb automatically pulled a visual on the angle to thrust from.

"I'm ready. And the funny thing about this is even if I overshoot the angle, I can readjust the other way when it's time to thrust again, right?" Ijva asked, and Uribb saw on the terminal as her ship began to rotate as the pneumatics nudged it to be thrusted back into course.

"I wouldn't call that funny, but that's exactly right. You'll have about 4 tries to get the angle right."

"Ok. Ok. This can work."

"Don't worry. We'll have someone to come collect you."

"Yeah. Yeah. Do I engage the thrusters?" Ijva asked.

Werfig turned to Uribb as they watched the screen intently.

"Engage now." Uribb instructed, and saw as the ship slowed it's decent again as it went back in course, before dipping out of course again the other way.

That was fine. 3 more tries. And they would only get more accurate from here on out.

\_\_

***

The ship jolted again as she pulled the thrusters. She was following the angle corrections the control tower was sending her, hoping her estimation of how much air propulsion she needed to align to the correct angle was close enough.

She kept getting encouraging replies from Uribb and the supervisor.

Another angle correction came in, another burst of pneumatic control to angle her was issued, and another shudder as the she pulled the throttle to slow herself down.

She could not see the mountains or the volcano she was to land on. The cameras were all but fried minutes ago. She was flying in relatively blind, unable to see out of the cockpit into where she was supposed to land.

It was a frightening. Everything about what she was doing was frightening. But at least her display showed the visual topographical readout of the rapidly approaching landing site.

Another course correction, another burst of thrusters.

She was close now. She was going to land, and her speed was lower than the calculations, so that was good.

Another course correction, another burst of air propulsion. She saw the flashing light that warned her she was dangerously low on the air reserve for the pneumatic systems. That was fine.

"Any second now." Uribb whispered over the comms, echoing her own thoughts.

Without warning the ship plunged into the lake, and the blue sky she saw was instead replaced by bubbles and foam and clear, darker blue water.

The impact knocked the wind out of her, and she gasped, undoing her straps.

"Landed. I'm ok." She breathed, and she could hear the elated shouts over the comms.

"Ok. I'm guessing you're underwater. Are there any leaks? Is water coming in? Werfig is on call with the rescue team. Their yachts should be pulling you out soon." Uribb said, their voice high as they spoke quickly over their own words.

"No leaks. Dangerously low on air, but that's fine. Holy fuck. We actually did it. Uribb, can you believe this?"

"I'm, ah. I'm having a hard time processing this."

"God. We have to meet. I'll take you up on it. Your offer to see the festival?"

"Yeah, of course. For sure. Ijva, you did it. Holy shit, you did it!"

Ijva had tears in her eyes as she grinned ear to ear.

"Thank you, Uribb. We're both colossal idiots to even attempt this landing, but by God."

Ijva could hear the relieved gushing as Uribb spoke to her, and could hear them crying as well.

She had landed. They were alright

[defnotmadie]

CHAPTER TWO OF STARBOYS AND THE SHADOWS THAT HIDE THEM HAS BEEN DROPPED

When he was younger, before the castle and before Wilbur, Tommy used to lay on benches in the park or alleyways and stare up at the sky.

Something about the stars always called to him and who was he to deny himself that.

:D have fun!

[cozy-possum]

Listen the concept of space travel forcing you to see what you’ve repressed or your own death is just too good

@aquitainequeen Thank you for making me think too much about this, ft my own space/future themed oc’s

Support Me?

“It takes the worst of you. It takes what you’d beg to forget.” He doesn’t look past the group of his crew huddled around the new technology the commander had dropped onto the ship.

“BioRobotics said you needed one of these for traveling.” He gestures to the small figure that everyone is crowded around.

“Ree M. Oate.” The figure, clearly a robot buzzes out. He can see the way the antennae pass a spark between them, purely an aesthetic choice.

“A language translator?” One of the crew laughs a little.

“Repurposed, one of the old models, therapy-bot now, well the closest you’ll be getting for your first few trips; the more you travel the better Bio-technology they give you.”

“That’s grim.”

“You learn to live with it; or you deserve it.” The man doesn’t smile, just patting the robot on its head. It beeps at him and he nods.

Nobody thinks twice of jumping anymore. Everyone does it; it’s too fast, too streamlined not to do it. The new robot is the only addition, the only strange thing in the usual travels.

“Okay Ree; why are you here? We’ve jumped before.”

“Longer jump means more issues.”

“Like motion sickness?” One laughs, they all remember when Rian had thrown up and spent two days huddled in bed after their first jump.

“Or panic?” Siv asks, nodding to Vivnia; she’d been screaming and crying after her first jump.

“Both can be symptoms; I’m for reassurance after.” Ree chirps and everyone nods, slowly preparing the ship to take off, slowly forgetting Ree is there. They don’t jump right away, it was common courtesy to wait until you were far enough out to now have wake when you jumped.

There’s a soft pulsing sound; a heartbeat. Everyone’s looking around, it's dark, a dull shimmer moving around the windows of the ship, it ripples like oil and before anyone can speak they just hear screaming.

Everyone knows how Vivnia sounds when she screams; but the sound from her mouth isn’t that, it’s almost a coughing, as if she can’t breathe. Her chest is moving, she’s not choking but the way her eyes are unfocused, the way her hands dig into her legs as she pulls them close to herself, everyone knows what she is seeing. When they look up to the windows, there is Vinia, bleeding, her throat torn open and her eyes gone. Nothing but a soft smile on her face, the only one she graces that smile to is Rian.

Ree is standing next to her when the jump ends.

“I see why we get better technology when we jump more.” Rian lets Ree comfort Vivnia. She does the same for him when they make the return jump.

Rian expects to see his death, he expects the crew to see it. Instead the dread that crawls up his stomach is the same that made him vomit on the first jump he did.

His father, fingers around his arm, draggin him through a dark hallway.

“If they ask you’re Rian. You’re not Riven. You’re Rian. Understand? The least you can do for this family is be something worthwhile.”

His father’s hand crushes his shoulder and he knows not to cry out. The medic that watches him scowls but doesn’t say anything, no one ever does.

“Name?” The commander standing in front of him asks, they’re both too young to talk about this.

Ree follows everyone, she keeps tabs, lets others know when they need physical comfort, flesh on flesh, when the others need space, when they need to be locked in somewhere small, when they need food, when they need things taken away. Ree knows all their needs and follows her job perfectly. Everyone is soaking in the horror of their deaths, of these memories that they would never speak of. It becomes normal, until they realize the commander will be the subject of the next jump.

The oil that shimmers is back, it always is before a bad jump, before everyone sees what the crew have tried so hard to repress. The commander, like everytime they jump, is standing facing the window, scowling slightly.

A letter torn in half is on the floor. There are water stains on it. There is a shaky hand reaching for it, everyone recognises the scar over the thumb. Everyone recognises the old royal seal.

Nobody knows how to decipher the child's writing.

Support Me?

[cheeyathebard]

Started writing a new fic! Among the Stars

[parradx]

fun sploingy thingy w my sona in their spacial suit enjoying an spacial burger yum

[spacepiratenemo]

Jackpot Space Pirate Crew - Venaros Zekka 舌禍

#charactersheet Venaros D. Zekka 🔥

Venaros comes from Latin “Venator” meaning “Hunter”. Since Zekka is a #onepieceoc the meaning of D is classified! 舌禍 Zekka = Careless Remark/Slip of Tongue// Also refers to Zekka from the GUNNM Universe. His alias is “the Starhunter” as he is a most legendary pirate in outer space, famous for his strength, bravery and recklessness.

😈 He is a committed anarchist, there is no god beside yourself, you yourself make the rules, do whatever, you only live once - so have some goddamn fun! Despite being a hero to many, he also is a menace to some. A hero that swears too much, uses slurs and slang, has a questionable morale and couldn’t be more celebrated for the most insanely impossible accomplishments.

🌠There are true stories and lies about this legendary alpha lunarian. He ventured to the Blue World, which is true. He met Gol D. Roger, which also is true. He allegedly beat the Pirateking in a fist fight, which is a total lie. Both got way too drunk to fight anything! A loss he openly admits is his loss against Whitebeard, a man Zekka deeply respected. Otherwise, Zekka also was responsible for the annihilation of the Tyranid-Swarmfleet, the destruction of the Ivstvaan-Plague, the end of the rule of Tau’vis, the conquering of the asteroid-belt and the creatotion of 223 craters on the surface of the moon.

☠ Zekka is loud, fiery, has a loose tongue and an even more loose temper. He is unhinged, full of joy, a completely gone mad nuthead. He is a loving adoptive father to his “children” in the Crew, a bad idol, but an idol with wonderful lessons to teach regardless. He is the hero that teaches you to fight, to do no harm but take no shit, to always bring a towel. The man was known to be too cool for this universe, and for some reason, this fact was true - A proletarian legend from the moon. A winged warrior who earned his bragging rights!

DMX is Zekka's official voice claim 🪐

Weapon: His fists! "Feel the strongest fist in the f*cking universe!"

Fighting-Style: Typical Ruffian

Music: Thrash-Metal as well as Hip-Hop/Rap

Favourite Insult: "Fraggin' Space-Fergis!"

Traits

Optimist or pessimist? Stupendously Optimistic

Introvert or extrovert? Over the top Uber-Extrovert

Daredevil or cautious? The biggest of all Daredevils across the multiverse XD 

Logical or emotional?  Too emotional, explosive temper, approach with caution. Bring beer! "I punch yo face, bisch!"

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Messy AF

Prefers working or relaxing? Relaxing-Chillaxing, F*ck Work, F*ck Capitalism. Too cool for ya'll, m*therf*ckers!

Confident or unsure of himself/herself? Overly confident and way too much "I'm da best!" #proletarian #attitude-issues #hoe 

Animal lover? Doesn't really care about animals. "He IS da hunter! M*therf*cker!"

// This YT Vid be Zek's personality in a nutshell XDDD

The Alpha-Class // King-Class Lunarian: As we know from the Kaido-Ark (One Piece, latest Ark including the reveal of the Lunarians and King) Lunarians are like gods. They are huge, have black wings, darker skin shades, white hair and are known to be incredibly tough. This also is the case for Zekka. He can easily fight with people like Whitebeard on an even level. Those wings are so strong, that he can fly to space, breaking through the atmosphere with ease. Those flames are known to be incredibly hot and there doesn't seem to be any sort of weakness. However, as we have seen in the fight of King and Zoro, there is a trick and a little know-how on how to beat such a god-like Lunarian. Zoro did it and this Author is sure that others could do it too! It's just a matter of knowing how to hit them and how to break them. A difficult task! Lunarians are the only ones who can survive on the moon without any form of "device". These devices we have seen in the Enel Cover Story of One Piece. There are clock-like items on the Space Pirates Oda drew and a theory reckons that these devices are needed for humans to live on the moon. My personal theory would be, that these devices regenerate some sort of bubble-shield which allows humans to breathe and bear the insane temperatures and living without an atmosphere. Lunarians however, no matter which class, can survive without these tools. As we know from the Kaido Ark, Lunarians are insanely tough. For my story I used this newly won information. Lunarians do not have to breathe at all times and taking a breather from an oxygen-station is optional, granting them a boost as if they were having a cup of coffee. They do not burn, are fireproof, the vacuum of space doesn't harm them and if you're lucky to be an A- or B-Class Lunarian, you won't ever freeze either, as you can generate your own fire.

"A man standing as tall as a house, a stance radiating confidence and power alike, a grin forbearing to f*ck you up! That's when your face ends up on his fist, you'll be thrown into the orbit of the next planet and god knows where you could end up !?! 

The Big Boss of the Jackpots was the bully other bullies feared. Those unwanted and lost found a home in his camp, some joined his famous crew and later these nutheads turned into the most badass people the moon had to offer. Those with no future, created a new one among this mountain of a man. He was a hero children looked up to. A legend who sacrificed his own life to save his children...".

When Zekka saw Nemo and Alliqui on the streets of the slums near Fairy Vearth, he wondered why those kiddos were all on their own and looked even more miserable than the moon-rats stealing trash from the bins. The boy recognised Zeks however, excitededly shouting: "It's you! It's really you! You're the Starhunter! Maaaan. Can you sign this paper for me, please?!".

This little boy of the age of 8 years would later become the first mate of the Jackpot Space Pirate Crew, whereas his little sister, Nemo, will become the best Mecha in existence.

These unwanted children would become the reason why the Jackpots grew to even more success. Truly, Zekka is and was the biggest influence in Nemo's and Alliqui's life.

"Thank you for saving us! We wouldn't have survived without you, Capt'n!".

- Zekka also ventured the Blue World when he was younger. He met the famous Pirate King, but eventually he dubbed that man a "lame idiot" after Gol D. Roger allegedly lost a drunken fist fight with the Jackpot-Boss. If this story is actually true and Zekka had his ass kicked or not is entirely debatable and questionable. However, his crew believes every story he tells!

He met Whitebeard as well and according to the Emperor of the Seas this encounter was the funniest and most enjoyable fist fight he ever had!

"Zekka? Then - You are his daughter, aren't you? Tell me, how has he been? I miss that old jerk! He was a good man and thanks to him I had some of the most hilarious times! I hope he is well..." - Whitebeard, as he found out that Nemo is one of the children Zekka adopted, after he recognised the Jolly Roger of his Crew on the side of her broken down spaceship.

"If you could be anything, anywhere at any time - then make the best out of the few specks of time you'll get!" - Capt'n Zekka Starhunter

"Turn up the bass-booster, you little space-rats! It's time for a party loud and wild enough for the universe to hear us! Let them hear our voices! Our drums! Let them hear our laughter and let them feel the spit in their faces! Rock it! Jackpots! Tonight, we share all the joy we've raided!" - Zekka Starhunter, 48 hours before the catasthrophe of the moon happened.

We shall live forever or die trying! - Jackpot Life Rule

[aurore-mf]

Atelier Stop-motion (août 2023) Camp d'été d'une semaine animé avec deux amis :) Merci encore à la confiance de l'association Art 17 qui organise chaque année un "camp artistique" pour une quinzaine de jeunes habitant la région Pour découvrir l'asso ainsi que leurs projets passés : https://www.art-17.ch/ Et pour voir le film >> https://vimeo.com/865476594 🖍

[delving-verilly]

Sparks - Astronauts

Sparks is a series of vignettes written under the influence of art.

They were the best of the best, which is why it all came as a shock. One of the last hopes is restoring the planetary 'factory setting'. Years of electromagnetic signals, abuse and pillaging of a planet will leave it in a state. The mindless unawareness through the choice of the populous wanting to ignore what they couldn't see. When they could see, it was too late.

Many things had started to create chaos within the planet's atmosphere. Global warming, the constant rain of space debris as celestial bodies decayed and connected with each other, sending literal rain of metal and junk down as more and more was pushed skyward to keep the people in the manner they'd become accustomed. Fast internet, information at fingertips and what was done with it. Nothing of any true meaning or depth. No integrity and living a life of existing, not experiencing.

When one of the largest celestial bodies had been identified and taken out a northern city, leaving millions dead and plenty in a 24-month Winter, something had to be done. A small group of rogue specialists had seen a way out. To bring down the satellites and junk from the sky. To prevent further advancement. A self-sacrifice of the most remarkable calibre to continue the human race and the planet's longevity. Pull apart the systems upon which the foundations of life had now become reliant.

Humanity was never meant to be comfortable. The smallest of joys in a day can be found in completing tasks that lead to our ongoing survival. We simply made ourselves comfortable while we waited for science to return with the answers for us to advance. Science has been shouting the answers for some time now, and too many have become too comfortable to listen. Listening would mean having to change, and change can be scary to people - especially if they are comfortable.

The two had been firm friends for many years, having grown up together at polar ends of the same town. One from poverty and struggle. Hardship and ostracised for his father's decisions and the small-minded community that fostered the apple never falling far from the tree. Every opportunity he had he fought tooth and nail for.

The other the only son of a wealthy, successful and well-connected couple. Carrying his own trauma of them never being around. Touch and affection starved, throwing himself into sports and seeking the validation he so craved from peers and those who would place a crown on his head at high school only to snatch it away given the first chance. Unlikely partners holding the planet in the palms of their hands.

Were they successful in their mission? That was yet to be seen. For there was only one of them left. The other falling victim to the debris, simply trying to clear the atmosphere and catching a snag in their vessel, they had to conduct an EVA (extravehicular activity). Only one could do it, the other having to remain inside. It was too high a risk to send both out when there was only the two of them.

They drew straws. There was no better way to do it as far as they were concerned they were equal in skill and treated one another as such. Neither of their lives were superior to the others.

Edward drew the short straw. He suited up and headed out. It seemed like an easy enough job. Just dislodge the debris caught in the exterior and prevent further damage. It was like a floating junkyard. The human race really had 'trashed' not only the planet but the entire vicinity it sat in. Swirling around the ethereal blue green orb were layers of metal, of reflective and dull surfaces, spikes and stilts, a myriad of different surfaces, logos and crap. Just crap. The piece lodged in the shell had a pay tv logo on it. Was it really worth it and did anyone down there on that planet have any idea. No.

The thing with space is there isn't gravity. When one object strikes another it will continue on its trajectory being propelled endlessly. Caught in an orbit of the planet, junk that has been struck by asteroids or other debris can get caught in a loop of propulsion, getting more momentum until it gets pulled down into the gravitational pull of the planet and into the atmosphere where it either burns up or crashes into the planet's population as it had been doing.

Out of nowhere, some of that spiralling debris caught Edward unaware. Steven hadn't even seen it coming with all the machinery on board. It was that small. That deadly. That fast. Cutting like bullets through his space suit. Through him. Straight through. It was over in an instant. Steve managed to retrieve the body as Eddie had followed protocol and was strapped to the exterior. That was the hardest EVA Steven had ever done in his life. They weren't successful. The very thing they were sent to combat destroyed the mission and took Edward's life. Steven had lost his best friend.

Edward was given a private ceremony. No airs and graces for a mission that was never supposed to happen because far too many people were making far too much money from the earth being in the state it was in. Steven tried to tell his story and was shut down by many governments. He will tell his story to whoever will listen to him to this day. If you can find him, ask him to tell it one more time.

[thepenultimateword]

Star Bright

Rather than in bubble wrap or parchment paper, the package came in cuffs. Great thick ones that barely seemed sound against the burnished, blazing skin of the person in front of them.

“Excuse me,” the human said stopping the delivery driver as they started back down the walk. “What is this?”

The driver checked the address on their clipboard. “You bought a star, right?”

The Human had done that yes. They had done so more than once on Earth as donations for different astronomical causes. They got blurry pictures once, maybe a card with its name and basic info. “Yes, but I wasn't actually expecting anything?" When the driver look at them strangely, they added hurriedly, "It was supposed to be an envelope of dust or a hunk of rock or something. It wasn’t supposed to be…be… What even is this?"

"A star," the driver said dryly, and without another word swung into the driver's seat of his vehicle and revved away.

The human watched him go with rising panic clawing at the walls of their stomach. When they finally looked at the stranger, their Star, they were glaring.

"So, um, I'm [Human]."

The star looked them up and down from bedhead to worn slippers, curling their bronzed lip with a glare before sweeping into the house. As they passed, heat brushed the Human's bare arms.

They rushed after them. "Wait, wait. You can't stay here. I was allowed an immigration trial by the skin of my teeth. Which means approved housing. Which means here. Which means rules. I'm not allowed pets or roommates, and there's a very strict "no overnight guests" rule, which I'm pretty sure...are you even listening?"

The star peered around the one-bedroom apartment as if it were the most curious thing they'd ever seen. The cuffs kept them from separating their wrists, but their fingers remained free enough to pick up the Human's empty coffee mug, turning it over in their fingers, before moving on to the plate of half-eaten breakfast.

They bent in half and sniffed at the fake egg on fake toast. A synthetic earth diet for his unaccustomed--his coworkers would say delicate--stomach.

"Oh. Uh…hungry?"

The Star cocked their head, long hair glittering over their shoulder,

"You know," The Human pointed to their mouth and mimicked chewing. "Hungry? Food?”

The Star made a noise like grinding steel and nails on a chalkboard mixed together. If that steel and chalkboard were also strapped to a whining aerial firework on the verge of explosion.

The Human clapped their hands over their ears with a sharp wince. "Ok, ok! I'll, uh, make you something."

Before they could move, the Star awkwardly picked up their toast in both hands and took a large bite.

"Or I guess you can just have-- Holy cow! What is happening?"

No sooner had the Star swallowed did a gush of molten something rush from their mouth, burning holes in the dingy wood flooring.

The human's hands tangled anxiously in their hair. "Oh, no, no, my deposit--" The Star hurled the toast into the wall as if in betrayal. "No!"

The human marched across the room, snatching the bread crust from the ground and shaking it in the Star's direction. "Don't throw! We do not throw here!"

The Star only glared, never breaking eye contact s they wiped their mouth on their shoulder.

The humans gaze went to their cuffs. “Can those—” they began, taking a step forward, but the star immediately stepped back. “Wait. I just want check something. They inched with raised hands until they were close enough to touch the warm surface of the cuffs. They ran their fingers around the sides until they found a panel, working under the edge with their fingernail to uncover the button underneath. “There we are!”

The Human pushed the button and the cuffs immediately demagnetized. The Star pulled their hands apart, but then manacles still held around opposite wrists.

“That’s strange usually they unlatch too. Let me look a little—”

The Star pressed their palm to their chest, pushing them away lightly with a small head shake.

“No, don’t do it or no, I can’t do it?”

The star merely shook their head a second time folding the manacles under their arms.

"Well... alright. But I still can't keep you here. Apparently, you can't eat food, and I have no idea what you do eat. And...and.. is it normal to just be delivered a person? Because where I come from, that is ethically questionable.

The star was not listening. They were in the midst of testing Human's couch, bouncing up and down on it a couple times before curling up on their side. They watched Human out of the corner of their eye as if expecting them to stop them.

"I, er, suppose you can stay there for now. As long as you don't stay overnight I'm not breaking any rules by having a...friend...over at my place. Er...I'll ask around about this sort of situation...if I figure out what you eat I'll bring some home. ER...sound good?"

The stare flipped over on their other side so that their back faced Human.

Human sighed. "Alright. Sounds good."

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii i @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia a @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin

@ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax x @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotesthetoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @tauntedoctopuses

[alexbraindump]

501-B - Chapter 1: Descent

“With the introduction of the brand-new line of Fysi-Apomi hyper-resilient plant life, even those of you out in the most remote corners of the galaxy may create your own little garden! Stuffed with all the nutrients one could need and capable of producing up to quadruple the fresh oxygen of regular plants, our new line of greenery can help improve your life on any industrialized planet.”

A holo-television. A simple piece of technology, light suspended in the air between two strips of projectors. Colors of such depth and motion of such smoothness to suggest reality unfolding right there before oneself. Upon this particular holo-TV, the visage of a well-dressed human woman in a lush greenhouse. Flowing blonde hair and a silky suit to build the impression of one to be trusted.

“As you can see here-” She took hold of a pot. From it grew a little berry bush. “Our wonderful plantlife is capable of sprouting all the food one could need!”

The view panned outwards into a wide shot of the greenhouse. There were trees bearing fruit and bushes bearing berries and sprouts from the ground bearing vegetables. The woman walked backwards to follow the camera panning.

“With Fysi-Apomi, you can-”

Ring-ring. There was a shrill sound across the room. A remote was picked up and pointed at the holo-TV. With a press of the power button, its display dissipated into thin air. A few floating particles of light lingered for seconds. Ring-ring. The remote was tossed down onto a coffee table dotted with empty soda cans, cups of microwave noodles and the disassembled mess of a gadget or two. From the couch arose a bipedal vulpine. He pulled a hood over his face, obscuring all but the end of his snout. Ring-ring.

Dusty boots clacked against metallic flooring as he made his way across the room. It was enclosed, made of metal all around. Piping and exposed wiring ran in bundles along the ceiling and walls. Opposing ends of the room terminated in doors, one of regular size and one of a cargo bay.

Ring-ring. The fox stood before the source of the ringing. A phone mounted to the wall. On its ID screen were the words “CALL FROM: MR. B.” He pulled the phone from its terminal and held it to his ear.

“Where in the name of the gods are you, Cade?!” squawked a shrill voice. “My contact is waiting for you!”

“None’a your business, man,” Cade bit back. “You’ll get everything you need, don’t you worry.”

“Scrapbots could be encroaching upon that ship as we speak-”

“Off my back, B, goddamn. I’m just about there.”

“Define ‘just about.’”

“Close enough that I’ve gotta hang up and get ready for entry now now. Byeeee!”

“We need that part, Cade! Don’t let this end up like-”

Cade slotted the phone back into its terminal. It was followed right up by another call from Mr. B. He removed the phone, slammed it back into place and then shut the terminal off completely. Both the terminal and holo-TV having gone blank, the only sound to accompany the room was a slight, electronic droning. Cade strode off back towards his TV.

Between the TV and the wall was an empty space. Just about enough to house a person. Cade stepped into it. He pulled up his sleeve, revealing a watch underneath. Upon lifting it towards the wall, a small chime of approval sounded off. The wall creaked for a moment, hissed out a puff of air and then slid open. Its movement was staggered and jittery, but upon completion a roomy compartment was revealed within.

Green. Lots of green. Plants lined the back of the compartment, blossoming vines spread up the walls and around the corners. There was a row of synthetic sunlight strips above them, flanked on either side by watering pipes. Droplets of water dripped from the nozzles. Cade reached in and began shuffling around the plants. His clawed paws tended to the plants with gentle grace. Branches were nudged back into place, dying leaves were snipped off.

On the compartment’s floor sat multiple leather pads. They were a dark shade of brown that mirrored Cade’s own fur. Next to them laid a handgun - contained in a leather holster. Five spare magazines were scattered around it. And off in the corner was a backpack propped up against the wall. Cade took a hold of it and set it down on the floor outside before continuing on tending to his garden.

Centralized amidst all the plants was a single flower, sat in a pot of its very own. Its pedals burned a bright red, a standout look amongst the green surrounding it. Cade investigated it with movements gentle enough not to wake a sleeping mouse. He pushed it around with as much ease as his paws could muster until finding a single wilting leaf on its stem. With a grumble, he snipped the leaf off. It fluttered down into a pile of dead plant matter gathering on the compartment’s floor.

Cade swiped a few bits of debris off the leather padding. A sigh escaped his lips as he took hold of the largest piece. It was a set of straps, ones that he fastened over his torso. They made up a belt around his waist and a slash that crossed his body diagonally. Another piece - surface marked with a burn - affixed onto the strap over his left shoulder. Cade stretched and flexed his body around, allowing the upper armor to slide into place.

The handgun and its holster clipped right onto Cade’s belt. Pockets stitched on the opposite end served as perfect housing for the magazines. And with that, Cade removed the last leather plate and hit a button on the compartment’s wall. Its door came hissing shut as it returned to an airtight seal with a satisfying little click, all the while Cade began on his way across the room.

The smaller of the doors opened as Cade approached it. Beyond it was a small cockpit. A whole array of windows lined the walls. Through them a planet could be seen straight ahead. Trailing wisps and puffy blots of gray filled the atmosphere and shadowed out the surface. A central chair swiveled itself around just as the door had finished opening.

Cade tossed himself into it, setting the chair off to turn back around and present its pilot with the ship’s controls. Display panels ignited with green light in response to the fox’s presence. Each screen was pure black with nothing but green text displayed on them. A central terminal beckoned Cade to begin inputting commands, but the fox instead opted to lift his right leg and rest it on the dashboard. The final leather pad fit snugly around his thigh. He gave it a little pat, lowered his leg and sat back up.

A keyboard was situated below the central terminal. Cade reached around the ship’s control stick and typed a command. A list appeared, a long one. Each entry was a string of random letters and numbers. Cade deliberated over the long list until settling upon one of the latter choices with a click of the enter key. 076-RDMPTN24.

The control stick’s position allowed Cade’s paws to slide right off the keyboard and take hold of it. Its ergonomic design slipped into one of his paws with ease. He flicked a switch on the base of it and then began tilting it forward. One of his feet applied light pressure to the rightmost of two pedals beneath the dashboard. His free paw reached off to the side of the cabin and flicked a handful of switches. The ship angled forward, ramping up the speed of its descent.

A small crackling sounded off beside Cade, prompting an ear to perk up and nearly push his hood off. He took his paw to a dial above him and began to twist it ever so slightly. The crackling came in and out, pulsing between loud and quiet. His movements became finer and finer until the sound had plateaued out into a consistent buzz. A voice was peeking through the haze, small glimpses given of something resembling words. Syllables struggling to coagulate into complete statements.

“W..elcome to…” A robotic twang drenched the voice. “BZZT… an industrial outpost… Now welcoming trad- BZZZZT… Quality index of- BZZT… Safety equipment… nearest arrival station- bzt…”

Silence. The signal died off with one last whimper of a beep. Cade attempted to twist the dial further, but got nothing but varying degrees of static in response. A small beep here and there maybe, but nothing of substance. A lost cause, he reasoned to himself as he gave his attention back to that which awaited outside the window.

Speed was building from Cade’s planetary approach. The white-speckled blackness of space vanished from the corners of his view, replaced by writhing clouds of gray. They only seemed to darken as his approach pressed on. Cade gave a check to the gauge cluster. Dials were increasing across the board, all except for planetary surface distance.

BOOM! 

A crack of lightning caused Cade to jump in his seat. Storms announced their presence with great booms and thuds. Cade tightened his grip on the steering stick and allowed himself a deep breath. As if in response, turbulence jutted itself into the equation. Cade reached for his central dashboard and turned up a slider that was jury rigged into the wall and labeled “compartment stabilizer.” with a piece of tape. The ship was putting up its best attempt to level out, though even its best could generously be described as rocky.

Rain began speckling the glass. Cade flipped a lever and a pair of wipers began swiping in vertical motions. Almost like it was fighting back, the rain grew stronger. It grew stronger to the point that the default wiper speed failed to keep up. Cade clicked the speed up a notch. Not enough. Two notches, getting there. Three notches - as high as it would go - and they were hardly keeping the windows clear, though they offered just enough downtime to see through. Not that there was much to see beyond the whirling gray abyss of storm clouds.

Cade reached across his seat, grabbed the seat belt, and clicked it into place. His ship rattled and creaked, its computer systems beeping and crying in distress. The control stick was jolting around, necessitating Cade wrap his other paw around it. Yet even the strength of both his arms wasn’t enough to keep the ship under control. A particularly close arc of lightning sent his ship careening to the side. Cade yelped, the seatbelt barely managing to keep the fox from being flung across the cockpit. It was more than enough to break his grip on the control stick, though.

The ship was sent into a spiral. Even a hearty set of internal gravity generators couldn’t save Cade from growing dizzy. He struggled to reach out with his body being wretched in circles over and over. His eyes put up a fight to stay open, the contents of his skull feeling more akin to a stew than a solid brain. And - as if matters couldn’t get any worse - the clouds began to thin…

Cade’s mind struggled to register the fact that he had broken the cloud layer. A spinning mass of gray had been replaced with a spinning mass of green. His head was caving in, a pounding headache giving way to his eyes shutting. One last desperate bid to grab the stick, one last strained reach of an arm, one last chance…

Synthetic leather, in his paw. A rejuvenating burst of energy pulsed through the fox. Through a scrambled mind he managed to wrangle the stick back into some semblance of control. Enough to thrust his other paw onto it. What little strength he had left was invested right into yanking the stick into place, opposing the terminal roll his ship had been sent into.

Spinning colors of the planet’s surface slowed. Hazy green and obscured blots of dark brown. Cade yanked harder, hard enough to have instilled fear of breaking the steering system in any other situation. The death spin began to slow. Cade’s eyes managed to pry themselves open and the pure adrenaline pumping through his veins gave him the final sliver of energy required to bring the ship out of its spin. Relief poured into Cade’s clouded mind.

And relief was blown away nigh instantaneously. Saving himself from the spin hadn’t changed a thing about the fact that Cade was hurtling towards the surface at a speed so high that the dials of his gauge cluster went beyond their highest numbers. The surface was close. Too close, so much closer than it should’ve been. With the same hold that managed to save himself from the spin, Cade tugged the stick back towards him hard enough to slam it into his chest.

There was a near-deafening screech. Both the ship’s engines and frame screamed in protest to the sudden motion. Cade clenched his sharp teeth. A metallic tearing sounded off somewhere from the rear of his ship. His foot came slamming down onto a pedal and he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Mere moments to spare, the ship managed to straighten itself out. The whole thing rattled as its bottom side clipped a rusty smokestack. Cade almost fell out of his seat again. Industrial structures flew by in a blur around him. Whatever was left of the ship’s momentum had been sent to hurtling it forward instead. It grazed between smokestacks and long catwalks, missing some by mere inches.

Adrenaline flowing like water through his veins, Cade’s sweat-laden hands struggled to keep hold as he weaved between metal structures. With his attention darting from side to side, he hardly managed to notice the wall of piping he was hurtling towards. But when he did, he screamed out a curse and instead directed his arms to pulling back up once more.

A metal plate flung off the ship and slammed into the wall of pipes as Cade managed to pull the ship up into clear sky. Or, as Cade would come to realize as he collapsed back in his seat, an especially cloudy sky.

Stretching for miles in front of him was a vast expanse of metal and haze. The air was thick, tainted sickly green. Rain poured down and ran through the fog as if carrying it down to the surface - where it coagulated into a thicker mist. Old factories expanded into a horizon rendered near by fog, a complex dwarfing all else in scale. Cade’s weary eyes danced across it all. Not a single smokestack seemed to be in operation - some had even broken and collapsed. Everything was packed so dense as to disallow any comfortable ship landings.

Ring-ring. A screen off to the side lit up. CALL FROM: MR. B. Cade groaned and hit the accept call button.

“Our contact saw that pathetic entry of yours, Cade. You’re making an awful first impression.”

“As if they could’ve done any better,” Cade grumbled. 

“You’ll be meeting them at clearing J-11,” Mr. B chugged on without skipping a beat. “It’s taken you long enough to arrive already. Get there quick, lest you taint the reputation of this organization even further. And clean yourself up, you look and sound like a mess.”

“Because our reputation is spotless as is.”

“Maybe it would be without inconsiderate units such as you.”

“Ouch, that burns,” Cade sneered. “Get your ass out here and enter an unregulated atmosphere through a pollution storm. Shouldn’t be a problem for a bird brain like you, yeah?”

“My job here-”

“Is to get me my money after I get this done for you.”

The hang up button received a hearty press. Bzt. Cade glanced around the area. From the edge of the fog, an abrupt cutoff in all the industry revealed itself. A big red sign jutted out from it, J-11. He directed his ship towards it.

It expanded down several stories. Down and down it went until terminating in a lengthy parking lot. Almost all of its spots went unfilled, minus the select few which held the corpses of long abandoned cars at rest. Coffins lined with faded white paint.

In the furthest corner stood out one vehicle in particular. A ship in pristine condition. Comparatively pristine, at the very least. Its design was sharp and bulky. A fighter. Wing-mounted cannons larger than a person and paint bearing its fair share of scorches and chips. There was a figure standing outside of it, doing some kind of work made unrecognizable by distance.

Cade reached to the side of his cockpit and flipped a lever down. With some loud cracks of opposition, the ship’s engines rotated to face upwards. “Hover mode engaged, landing gear deployed” was printed on the center console. A press of the left pedal ensued and the ship began to lower as Cade maneuvered it to hover a few spaces away from the fighter. He depressed the pedal with as much ease as he could, but then the ship’s engines sputtered a few feet from the ground.

The ship jolted and hit the ground. One of the legs of its landing gear failed to deploy. Cade grunted and stumbled out of the cockpit, his legs taking their precious time growing steady once more. He ran a double check over himself as he entered the main room. Gun, check. Ammo, check. Armor, check. Bag… Unchecked. Cade took a small detour across the living room, over to the holo-TV. His backpack wasn’t in the space he left it, instead having been tossed into the nearest corner.

He stepped over and kneeled in front of it. Inside was an array of little devices, gadgets and rations that he shuffled through. Though their arrangement had been scattered, none of them had broken. Cade breathed a sigh of relief, shut the bag and slung it over his back. But as he stood, a sudden flash of panic lit upon his face. He turned to the wall compartment and its door, flush with the surface around it. A step was taken towards it when-

Clang-clang!

Knocking on the ship’s cargo bay door. Cade looked back at the compartment only for the knocking to sound off again. Clang-clang-clang! Even harder that time. He bit his lip, cursed under his breath and took off towards the cargo door. An empty noodle cup caught itself under his foot and put him into a stumble, one he only stopped by reaching out and catching himself on the wall. One of his paws had hit a panel next to the cargo door, causing it to begin lowering.

A rush of noxious air came flooding in. Its presence spurred a cough out of the vulpine the instant it came in contact with his windpipe. His lungs were made ten times heavier in the blink of an eye. He fell forward against the wall and propped himself up with an arm. Tears welled up in his eyes. There was a knock on the outside of his door that only barely registered to his ears.

“You’re late.” A gruff voice, clouded behind a digital filter. “Didn’t even listen to the arrival broadcast, did you?”

Cade looked up through tear-filled eyes and bore witness to a tall, human man. Face concealed behind a bulky gas mask and body clad in heavy metal armor, he was near double the size of the small fox. Another gas mask hung from one of the man’s hands. It wasn’t as bulky, seemingly a standard model lacking in any advanced additions.

“Boss didn’t-” Cade tried to speak, but was wracked by another coughing fit. “...Didn’t warn me about this air, fuck!”

“Your eyes should’ve.” The man tossed the mask over to Cade, who fumbled and nearly dropped it. “Call me Steel.”

With shaky hands, Cade shoved the mask over his face. A deep breath through its filters allowed a wave of relief to wash over his lungs. The mask was loose on his face, though a seal around its edges adhered to his fur. Fresh air gave Cade the energy needed to regain his posture and step out from his ship. Rain pelted against the top of his hood as he did so.

“One hell of a name,” the fox said. “Real subtle.”

“Codename, smartass. What’s yours?”

“Cade. Something that sticks to the whole ‘normalcy’ shtick. Not tryin’ too hard to sound all tough-”

“Shut it.”

“Pfft. Struck a nerve there, huh? Noted.”

Steel gave nothing more than a growl before facing himself towards the open space beyond the lot. A train station stood a short distance away. Holes in its walls revealed that a passenger train - though rusted - remained idle within. Perpendicular to the tracks stretched a vast expanse of what used to be roadway, now reduced to mere fractured chunks of color-bleached concrete.

Alongside the road was a whole forest of dead trees, their colors muted to a similar degree. A good lot of them had been felled. Those that remained standing were either stripped bare or covered with dead branches like veins that clawed towards the sky. Deeper and deeper into the fog the road winded, the only sense of termination provided by a large structure obscured in fog. 

“Ship’s out there,” Steel said. “According to my trackers.”

Cade nodded. “And is there any particular reason we had to land all the way out here, or was it just to get your steps in for the day?”

“Locals.”

“People live on this shithole?”

Steel let out a sigh. “The fuck did I just say?”

“It was a rhetorical question. Hell, you really are what it says on the tin.”

“That being..?”

“Dense.”

Though the lenses of his mask were tinted to the point of acting as shiny black walls, Steel’s glare burnt a hole into Cade. The fox opted to laugh it off. Steel, though unamused, directed the fox to follow him. Cade bent over to grab the door of his ship and slid it shut. It hissed as it sealed itself.

The duo set out on their way down the road. Steel drew a weapon from his back, a lever action laser rifle. Cade’s eager eyes affixed right onto it and he fell a pace or two behind. Slick black metal ending in sharp corners, its form invaded with duct tape and bundles of wires. An ejection port and feeding tube were present, though the latter had a charge package taped and welded into it. A rack holding three extra charge packs had been affixed to the side of the weapon.

Cade glanced down at the handgun on his hip and grumbled to himself. Instead of letting his eyes lock onto the other weapon once more, he forced himself to take a gander at the scenery. What little of it there was, at the very least…

Every now and then a road would splinter off and venture off into parts unknown. Or there’d be a road sign, or a billboard. Cade gave the billboards particular attention. Most had been worn by the elements to the point of illegibility. There were a select few that managed to stay just barely on the cusp of being comprehensible, though.

NixCo Cybernetically Enhanced Lungs!

Breathe better, live better with NixCo!

Ask about your local installation clinic today!

Bright colors - though dimmed by the elements - and a peppy cartoon human taking a nice, deep breath of air drawn so fresh Cade could almost feel it in his lungs. The pulsing inhales and exhales of the fox’s gas mask grounded him right back into reality, out of the ad’s own imitation of it. The reality where even reading the ad’s fine print was somewhat difficult from the noxious fog in the air. A shiver tickled his spine…

Miles dragged by. Steps faded into each other and became a blur of forward movement into swirling clouds of death. Steel hadn’t a word to say, and Cade’s head was still throbbing just enough to dismantle the idea of casual conversation. All their ears had was the booming of thunder overhead and the steady drone of rainfall. Their boots splashed in cloudy puddles of water. The monotony of it all kept Cade’s mind just as fogged as the planet he had found himself on.

“Snap out of it,” Steel barked, his voice shattering the glass of Cade’s focus like a hammer. “We’re just about there.”

The fox blinked and shook himself awake again. His paw pads were sore and his mouth yearned for a drink from within the confines of his mask. But one sign of tangible progress crammed itself into the forefront of his mind, pushing all else aside in the process.

Great walls of scrap metal. They were fashioned around something, but were tall enough to obscure vision inside. Light emanated from behind them and peeked through unsealed holes in the aged metal. Dotted along the walls were a handful of watchtowers. Spotlights shone down from them, swaying from side to side in rhythmic fashion. Banners had been hung atop each of the towers. They were tattered near the bottom, colored in a faded purple. Some royal-looking golden star was planted in the middle. There were stitches across each of the stars, the pattern of them uniform across every banner.

Cade stopped in his tracks. Steel kept walking a few paces forward before taking notice - at which point he too stopped. The man gave Cade an annoyed grunt. Cade grunted right back, only in an exaggerated mock fashion.

“Hold your horses, jackass,” Cade said. “How about we don’t walk right up to their front door?”

“Are you tired or something, wanna set up a picnic back here? Make the boss wait even longer for this godforsaken job to get done?” Steel bit back. “Hope you packed some sandwiches then, because I didn’t pack for a pleasant afternoon getaway.”

“No, I wanna make sure we know what we’re getting into before we go storming in.”

Steel huffed, but stayed in place. Cade shook his head and removed his backpack, placing it on the ground in front of him. He rummaged through it for a moment and took a pair of binoculars out. They were a bit awkward to press against his mask and didn’t provide the best view of things, but he made it work just enough to observe the towers ahead.

Within each tower was an armed individual. All of them carried aged bolt-action rifles. Too old to be laser weapons, Cade reasoned. Scrap metal armor adorned their bodies, painted a knightly shade of silver. They weren’t operating the spotlights, those moved on their own. Cade trailed the binoculars downward with the beam of one, down to the base of the walls. The main entrance was hard to miss. A large set of double doors. About as ornate as scrap possibly could be. Guards stood post outside it, armed with… swords?

Cade removed the binoculars from his eyes. “Lots of guards.”

“Lots? Let me be the judge of that.” Steel snatched the binoculars from Cade’s paw and began examining the place. “Hmphf, odd choice of weapons this lot uses.”

“Old ones, doesn’t seem like they get out much.”

Steel held the binoculars down, but didn’t gesture them out towards Cade. The fox took it upon himself to swipe the pair back for himself, tucking them in his bag right away. Steel responded by drawing his rifle and aiming it towards a tower.

“I’ll take out the guys in the towers, you move in and-”

“That’s stupid,” Cade interrupted. “Are you stupid? Shoot one of ‘em and the rest can trail that laser back here and shoot us both, bonehead.”

“Not if we take them out fast enough.”

“Okay, yeah. You’re stupid.” Cade sighed. “How about this; you stay here and cover me. Just - get behind a tree or something. I’ll head in and talk to those guys at the gate, see what’s goin’ on. And then, if they shoot me, you can do all the blasting your little heart desires, yeah?”

Steel groaned. “Gotta make a problem out of everything… Fine. But let it be known I’m not risking myself to save you if you get in over your head, fox.”

“Trust me, big guy,” Cade teased. “I got this~”

[Stay tuned for Chapter 2, hopefully coming within the next few weeks. Feedback is welcome & encouraged, this is my first time ever posting an original story I've written :3]

[ayakingsley]

I painted this a year ago. This is still one of my favorite paintings up to date (besides my DJMM), I hope you like it!

[brunurb]

[ferretwithahat]

NGL, I’d love to see sign language used as a form of universal communication in sci-fi instead of some techno jumbo. It doesn’t rely upon biologically produced sounds increasing its compatibility across different species, and could be used for some interesting representation for deaf people in sci fi