I posted this to AskLemmy a couple of days ago but someone suggested I cross post it here. Why not, right?

Original post.

It is in response to this writing prompt:

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Edit: I also got bored and decided to record a mini 'audiobook' version real quick.

If you wanna listen to my dumb ass read my own writing - Click Here.

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Alarms suddenly flash, plunging the room into a deep red glow. The two security officers bolt up, the remnants of their conversation instantly evaporating from memory.

"ALL AVAILABLE OFFICERS. REPORT TO ENGINEERING."

The two exchange confused looks before grabbing their sidearm and heading out the door. The pulsating red glow of the alarms is constant and seems to keep pace with each footstep. All three tapping in a quick unison. The gleam of the hallways is definitely muted during any alert stance. Hard to tell the majesty of organic glass or a perfectly mopped floor when the lighting is brought down to about 25%. Ghymm hissed to himself that he'd have to file another complaint and get it increased to 28% at the very least. "I will fucking flashbang you, I swear to whatever a Christ is." Evidently Bhawwb had heard. Suddenly those evaporated memories came back from earlier.

"If you mention the lighting levels again..."

"BUT THEY'RE AWFUL!"

"We're on a spaceship. Tense things happen. Low lighting is useful. Shut up about the low lighting."

"BUT IT LOOKS BAD."

"AND IT MAKES FUNCTIONAL SENSE, SHUT UP GHYMM."

"And just how does me being unable to see shit make sense? Especially when then you can't see all the fucking chore work I did."

"Mostly it just makes sense to me. You wouldn't get it. And maybe you wouldn't have to do so much bitchwork if you didn't bother the Captain with your incessant whining about how the 'mood lighting' harshes your 'vibe'?"

".... First of all, rude. Second, makes sense to you how?"

"Well that way you won't see my boot coming when I shove it up your cloac-"

With memories caught up to the present, the screaming of the alarm in reality signaled it was indeed time to snap back to it before gravity went whoops. Both officers continued down the hall before a set of large opaque doors slid open. Silently. None of this namby-pamby human shit of specifically having the doors make noises that are as quiet as possible. Fungorian doors are the best doors in the quadrant, they'd have you know. Doors that are so good they're able to contain the unholy and inhuman screeching of a, well, human that has been beset upon by the gods of engineering and the damned. That is, until said set of Fungorian doors decides to open for two security officers that are bickering about a brightness value.

"Ohm-munching, capacitor-crapping, resistor-licking, diode-diddling, quantum-queefing GARBAGE!"

Ghymm and Bhawwb both stick their heads in through the open doorway just as an item that looks suspiciously like a monkey wrench sails an inch in front of their face. They pull their heads back into the hallway.

"I’ve spent years, YEARS, getting electrocuted by pissy little stupid volts and soldering my dumb human fingers together to figure out something better, and you’re out here still running the same fucking tea kettle just with extra steps?!

For the next 10 seconds they both stand, frozen, staring into the open doorway. Either one of two things was happening. Option one was that a set of various tools that once belonged to a human had become possesed with the soul of said humans. Hauntings were supposedly a thing. Just recently they had both seen a documentary film about a man being trapped in a large rich persons abode with many such dwellers that dare not move on. Such a common thing was it on Earth that all humans who were watching just seemed to laugh. Clearly a defense mechanism. Then again, option two was that a very angry human was just throwing shit around. Hoping (mostly) for the second, the two officers stepped in.

In the corner were two people. One Human, one Fungorian. Both wearing an engineering uniform. The human was kneeling with some archaic implement in his hand his head bumping against the ceiling, gesturing wildly with it while standing over the Fungorian, cowering on the floor, taking shelter against a wall. A wall that Bhawwb just knew Ghymm was thinking looked awful in this lighting. He was. It does.

"I... I don't know what you mean!"

"YOU'RE JUST BOILING FUCKING WATER."

"Yes!"

"WHY?"

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN!"

"WHY DON'T YOU HAVE SOMETHING BETTER! WHERE IS THE ELEMENT ZERO. WHERE IS ELEMENT 710. WHERE IS A FUCKING TARDIS CORE OR SOMETHING. WHY DOES IT ALWAYS HAVE TO BE FUCKING WATER!"

The two officers look at each other, unsure of how to proceed in taking down the human that was, after all, several times larger than they were. Bhawbb nodded to Ghymm in a very particular way. The type of way one might nod when they're saying "Take out your sidearm, set it to stun, and HIT HIM. Ghymm nodded back in a less particular way, one usually just used for all varieties of "Yep."

"JOULE-SNIFFING, WATT-WHORE TURBINE FUCKERY! GODDAMN STEAM-FARTING, VALVE-TWISTING, PISS-HEATED PIECE OF SHIT!

The human raised his implement once more towards the machinery, ready to do God knows what. As it turns out, God didn't know what and was in-fact watching with extreme fascination. Ghymm, less fascinated and more terrorized, took out his sidearm and pointed it to the skyscraper sized human. He fumbled with the buttons, applying the seemingly correct stun setting and then pulled the trigger. The human instantly vaporized in a puff of smoke, leaving his gargantuan tool floating in the air for a moment before falling down and squishing the no-longer-threatened-but-maybe-a-little-threatened-afterall Fungorian engineer. A long pause hovers in the air, filled only by the alarm backing track of the room.

"What the fuck GHYMM?! I SAID SET IT TO STUN!"

"I hit the wrong button! I mean... maybe I wouldn't have if we were up to at least 28% brightness..."

The Hunt

Marco Polo, Orbit of Uncharted Planet “WISE J050822.11-344357.1 b” alias “Bob”

Date: 23 February 2178

Time: 14:47:12 UTC

“Well, it looks like our preliminary naming of this world is off the table. We can't call a jewel like this just Bob.” Captain Jaxon Marks smirked and leaned back in his command chair, eyes fixed on the holographic display projected before him. The planet below, officially still designated WISE J050822.11-344357.1 b, was a stunning celestial body. Turquoise oceans, sprawling continents, and vast mountain ranges stretched across its surface. The ship's sensors had already confirmed a breathable atmosphere, and the readings were still coming in.

"Captain, I'm picking up something unusual," Specialist Elianore Tucker said, with a hint of excitement.

Captain Marks's gaze snapped towards Tucker, looking sceptical. "More unusual than a garden world, Specialist? Don’t tell me we found aliens."

Tucker nodded, her eyes darting between the captain and the data streaming across her console. "Affirmative, sir. I'm reading structures, possibly habitations, and what appears to be a network of roads or pathways."

Marks's brow furrowed. "That's impossible. We're over 200 light-years from Earth. There's no way a human settlement could be out here without us knowing about it."

He leaned forward, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Double-check your readings, Specialist. I want to know if this is some kind of anomaly or a glitch in our sensors."

Tucker's fingers flew across her console, and after a few tense moments, she looked up at the captain. "Sir, I've re-run the scans. The readings are confirmed. Whatever this is, it's definitely not natural."

Captain Marks's mind was racing. The implications were staggering. If this was indeed a settlement, it could only mean one thing: they were not alone in the universe. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He had always wondered if humanity would ever encounter extraterrestrial life, and now, it seemed, he might be the first to do so.

"Alright, Specialist," Marks said, his voice measured. "Let's take a closer look. Raise our sensors to high gain and see if we can gather more information about this... settlement."

As the Marco Polo's sensors began to probe the planet's surface, Captain Marks couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the cusp of something momentous. Something that would change the course of human history forever.

"Captain, I'm reading something else," Tucker reported hoarsely.

Marks's eyes locked onto the specialist. "What is it, Tucker?"

Specialist Elianore Tucker's voice cut through the calm of the bridge, her tone laced with concern. "Captain, I'm reading a disturbance in the Warp C-Band. It's distorted, but it's definitely there."

Captain Marks raised an eyebrow. "C-Band? Nobody uses that for warp, Elianore. It's too violent."

Tucker nodded. "I know, sir. Most WEST ships use the E-Band, it's harder to focus but smoother to sail.”

Marks was well aware of that. The Marco Polo could even use the experimental G-Band, which allows for nearly 2000 times the speed of light but was even more finicky to focus.

Just as Tucker finished speaking, the bridge was bathed in the eerie glow of incoming ships. Two hundred vessels, each a behemoth compared to the Marco Polo, emerged from the depths of space.

There was dire tension in the air as Captain Marks' eyes widened in alarm.

And immediately the proximity alarm sounded! Thousands over thousands of ballistic objects launched from the armada towards the Marco Polo.

"Red alert! Evade, evade, evade!” shouted Captain Marks, “Bring SHORAD online, now! Navigator Dorelman, calculate a warp out of this clusterfuck!"

The Marco Polo shuddered as the antimatter reactors roared to life, propelling the ship forward at nearly 10g. The inertial dampeners struggled to compensate, the crew was still thrown back into their seats. The SHORAD turrets sprang to life, spewing forth a hail of point-defense projectiles that shredded most of the incoming ballistic objects.

Captain Marks's grin was a mixture of relief and adrenaline. "That was a lucky call, people! We're clear of the initial barrage!"

But Navigator Dorelman's voice was laced with concern. "Captain, I'm having trouble getting the warp drive online. The disturbance from the C-Band is too great."

Marks's eyes narrowed. "Keep trying, Dorelman. We need to get out of here, now!"

As the Marco Polo continued to accelerate, the crew struggled to keep up with the chaos. The ship was taking small shrapnel damage, but it was still whizzing through space at incredible velocity, dodging the incoming fire like a fly a fly squatter.

Weapon Officer Kurz's voice cut through the turmoil. "Captain, the enemy is firing unguided... cannon balls? And they're using a 'crossing the T' formation, like a pre-industrial sea fleet, firing broadsides?"

The bridge crew exchanged stunned glances. What kind of enemy would use such outdated tactics? And how could someone be insane enough to travel through C-Band warp?

Captain Marks's face set in a determined expression. "We'll worry about that later. Right now, let's focus on getting out of here alive. Engineer Dorelman, can you give me an estimate on when we'll have the warp drive ready?"

Dorelman's voice was hesitant. "I'm not sure, Captain. The disturbance is too great. You need to bring distance between their warp generators and ours… I’ll try to calculate an E-Band warp, that should give us less speed but easier warp."

Marks's eyes locked onto the engineer. "Do it, Dorelman. I’ll give you some distance to work with, everyone, make haste, we need to get out of here, now!"

"Alright, listen up!" Captain Marks barked, his voice cutting through the chaos of the bridge. "Ready all weapons! We're going to punch a line into their formation and make off as fast as we can. Helm, align 75.15, Sensors, set target painters on every ship ahead. Weapons, prepare to fire the coax rail gun in short bursts. I want them licking theirs wounds but not dead. Repeat, avoid destroying these ships. Let's show them what we're made of!"

Targeting lasers beamed through the void, marking and measuring a dozen of the massive enemy battleships. Upon contact sensors calculated the distance to 14 klicks and immediately the rail-gun fired in short, controlled bursts, unleashing energized tungsten rods at 30km/s. The rods punched straight through the battleships, causing them to lose control and roll in space, venting atmosphere and inner structure.

Already the Marco Polo surged forward, its engines screaming in protest as it accelerated to 11g. The ship shuddered and groaned, its hull creaking under the strain. At least the enemy ships, due to their massive size, seemed to struggle to keep up. They lumbered forward, their acceleration pitifully slow compared to the Marco Polo's breakneck speed.

As the Marco Polo burst through the hole in the enemy formation, the four automated SHORAD turrets calculated imminent collisions, sprang to life, unleashing a hail of point-defense projectiles that obliterated almost two dozen small, nimble fighters within two seconds.

When the Marco Polo emerged on the other side of the enemy formation, its crew breathed a collective sigh of relief. But as they looked back at the enemy fleet, they couldn't help but feel a sense of incredulity.

"What in the...?" Captain Marks trailed off, shaking his head.

Weapon Officer Kurz chuckled. "I think we just got attacked by Steam Punk aliens, sir. I mean, who uses cannon balls in space?"

The bridge crew erupted into laughter, the tension of the past few minutes dissipating. But Captain Marks's expression quickly turned serious.

"Alright, let's keep the jokes to a minimum. We just got out of a very tight spot, and we don't know what other surprises these... Steam Punk aliens might have in store for us."

He turned to the crew, his eyes scanning the room. "Let's keep our focus on getting out of here and reporting back to WEST. If I never see those Steampunk aliens again, it will be too soon."

The bridge crew responded with a crisp "Aye, Sir," remaining resolute despite the smiles on their faces.

"Captain, I'm getting a clear warp on the E-Band," Specialist Tucker said, her voice steady. "We should be able to make it back to WEST space without any further incidents."

Captain Marks nodded, his eyes fixed on the navigation display. "Let's hope so, Elianore. Let's hope so."

Marks continued to call out commands in preparation for warp, his voice steady and calm. "Alright, let's get ready to head back to Earth. Navigation, plot a course for Earth. Engineer Dorelman, get me warp, whatever you can manage."

Just as the crew was about to execute the orders, a Security Ensign burst into the bridge, out of breath. "Hold the warp! Hold the warp, Captain!"

The bridge crew turned to look at the Ensign, annoyance and amusement on their faces.

Captain Marks raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Ensign...?"

"Jamil, sir," the Ensign replied, still gasping for air. "I'm Ensign Jamil. I couldn't help but overhear your plan to warp back to Earth, sir."

Marks's expression turned skeptical. "And what's wrong with that plan, Ensign?"

Jamil took a deep breath before speaking. "Sir, I think we should not underestimate the enemy. We should not warp back directly to Earth. We don’t know…"

Kurz, the Weapon Officer, stepped forward, droning with a stern voice. "Ensign, you're breaking protocol. You should have reported to your superior officer before coming to the bridge."

But Captain Marks interrupted Kurz, his voice calm. "No, no, Kurz. The Ensign speaks rightfully. Navigation, plot a course straight out of the galactic plane, away from Earth. We'll go to warp as soon as possible."

The bridge crew exchanged surprised glances, but Marks continued, his eyes locked on Jamil. "The Ensign is correct. The enemy might have outdated weapon technology but we don’t know if the enemy is able to track warp signals. We better don’t draw a map for him to our home world. And just to make myself clear, if your Captain makes a mistake, warn him. The worst thing that can happen for being wrong is an amused smile on your Captain's face."

As the ship entered E-Band Warp, Captain Marks turned to Jamil, a small smile on his face. "So, Ensign Jamil, what's your story? What brings you to the Marco Polo?"

Jamil smiled back, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm an ex-police officer, sir. I studied criminal psychology in Mumbay and worked for the homicide department for 25 years. After my second gastric ulcer I wanted to see space before retiring. My job aboard the Marco Polo is usually to calm down minor disputes and maybe lock up a drunk once a week."

Marks chuckled. "You're overqualified for this job, Ensign."

Jamil grinned. "You can't be overqualified in space, sir."

Marks raised an eyebrow. "Fair point. So, Ensign, why do you think I didn't order to destroy the enemy ships?"

Jamil thought for a moment before responding. "I think you didn't want to escalate the situation further, sir."

Marks shock his head. "That's a good explanation but incorrect, Ensign. I didn't think that far, but I knew the enemy would be more busy rescuing damaged ships than writing off destroyed ships."

Jamil smiled. "You're not much of a diplomatic guy, are you, sir?"

Marks smirked. "Not at all, Ensign. But I'll take that as a compliment."

He turned to Jamil, his expression serious. "Stay around the bridge, Ensign. You have earned it and maybe we both can learn from each other."

Jamil nodded, a small smile on his face. "Aye, aye, Captain."

The Marco Polo warped for two hours, covering almost half a light year of distance. Finally Captain Marks ordered the ship to leave warp.

"Alright, let's take a look around," Marks announced, his voice calm. "Tucker, scan the warp bands and see if we have any company."

Tucker nodded, her eyes fixed on her console. "Aye, aye, Captain. Scanning now."

Jamil, who had taken a seat to the left of the Captain, strapped into the safety belts like everyone else, looked at Marks with a curious expression.

"Captain, I have to ask, what's the plan here?" Jamil asked.

The Captain checked his own console without looking up. "We're just taking a look around, Ensign. Making sure we're not being followed."

But before Marks could continue, Tucker's voice cut through the calm.

"Captain, I have interference on the C-Band warp, incoming!" Tucker announced, “ETA four mike.”

Marks's expression turned serious. "Align straight away from the incoming angle and accelerate to cruise at 6g. Let's create some distance."

The Marco Polo's engines roared to life, propelling the ship forward at 6g. The crew was pushed back into their seats as the ship accelerated.

Four minutes later, the enemy fleet popped back into real space, right where the Marco Polo had left warp. But the Marco Polo was no longer there. It had moved away over 1500 kilometers, far outside of the enemy's weapons range.

Tucker's eyes were fixed on her console, scanning the newcomer. "Captain, I'm reading the enemy fleet. 174 ships, the same fleet that jumped on us at planet Bob, minus 24 ships."

"This is not good," Kurz said, his voice low. "We can't outrun them if they can follow us through warp."

Marks nodded and used the intercom. "Dorelman, when can you get full speed on the G-Band?"

Dorelman's voice came over the comms system. "Even without those C-Band disturbances, it will always take a couple of hours, Captain. The G-Band is a finicky thing and only used for long distance warp."

Marks's expression turned thoughtful. "Alright, let's keep moving. We'll try to lose them in the vastness of space. It seems the enemies relativistic acceleration is limited around 2g. Let’s keep cruising at 5g until we can get into the G-Band"

“174 ships.” stated Jamil. “This means they left 12 ships to tend the damaged 12 ships. Their logic is somewhat resembling human psychology.”

The Marco Polo continued to burn its engines through space, its crew on alert, waiting to see what the enemy would do next.

Tucker's voice cut through the calm of the bridge, her tone urgent. "Captain, the enemy is aligning towards us, creating a C-Band-Warp Field!"

Jamil and Kurz looked shocked, their eyes fixed on Marks, who already knew what the enemy was trying to do.

"A short range warp, right on top of us!" Marks exclaimed, his voice rising in alarm.

The bridge erupted into chaos as Marks shouted out hasty commands to get battle ready. "Dorelman, get us warp, G, F, E, D Band, whatever, just get us moving NOW!"

Dorelman's voice came over the intercom, laced with frustration. "Captain, you better make up your mind! I've just configured the engines for an G-band warp!"

Marks's response was immediate. "JUST DO IT, Dorelman! We don't have time for this!"

The enemy fleet suddenly flashed in at just seven kilometers to their side, immediately opening fire. The Marco Polo's SHORAD turrets sprang to life, spewing forth a hail of point-defense projectiles to counter the incoming fire.

"Red Alert, evasive maneuvers!" Marks shouted, his voice carrying above the din of the battle. "Fire Wrecker Torpedos at the closest ships!"

The four Torpedo Tubes opened fire, sending the bulky warheads towards two carriers and two massive dreadnoughts. The carriers spewed out fighters, which were quickly engaged by the Marco Polo's medium range missile systems.

As the battle raged on, Kurz took the liberty to fire the coax rail gun at targets of opportunity, literally cutting an alien cruiser in half and punching holes into five more ships. The crew was thrown around their seats, only held in place by the safety constrains as the ship performed insane evasive maneuvers.

For almost ten minutes, the Marco Polo danced through the void, avoiding the enemy's attacks and striking back whenever possible. Finally, Dorelman's voice came over the intercom, his tone relieved.

"Captain, I've got a D-Band Warp ready! We can jump to warp now!"

“Engage!” shouted Marks so loud Dorelman could hear him without the intercom.

The Marco Polo sped off to warp space, riding along the rough D-band warp. The crew was shaken around, struggling to maintain their footing as the ship shuddered and groaned. The D-band was the oldest practically used warp technology but closer to a roller coaster than a smooth flight.

Marks's voice cut through the din, demanding ammunition and damage report. "Alright, let's get a report on our status. What's our ammo situation?"

Kurz’s voice boomed angrily behind him. "Captain, we've got one SHORAD turret down, and the three remaining are down to 30% ammunition. Mid-Range Missiles are down to 50%, and we've got 8 Torpedos left out of 16. The coax rail gun has 60% ammunition left."

Marks's expression turned grim. "Damage control, what's our damage situation?"

The damage control officer's voice came over the intercom, his tone strained. "Captain, we've got 400 small leaks, temporarily sealed by security foam. We're working on welding more permanent seals, but it's going to take some time."

Marks nodded, his mind racing. "Alright, let's prioritize the SHORAD ammunition, take it from the damaged turret to the working ones. Whatever comes next, without SHORAD we are toast. Don’t worry about the seals, the foam should hold up for a while and we still have EVA suits."

Kurz's smuggly laughed, his tone triumphant. "Captain, we disabled seven enemy ships, with at least four being total losses. And I scored at least 20 random hits on other ships, nothing critical, but hopefully taking them out of the fight for the time being."

Jamil shook his head in concern. "Captain, I think the enemy Commander is taking this personally. He is becoming more and more reckless, sacrificing ships in a fight he could easily avoid. He's not going to leave ships behind to help the damaged ones. He might even bring the damaged ships back into the fight, even though they're only good for soaking up more hits."

His face turned sour as the bad news kept on coming, meanwhile the Marco Polo rumbled harshly through the D-band warp, the crew on edge, waiting to see what the enemy would do next.

“Do not discuss this on the Bridge.” stated Captain Marks, “Kurz, Tucker, Jamil, Dorelman. Mess Hall. Now.”

Soon the core command found itself in the deserted mess hall.

Captain Marks's expression turned grim as he concluded the dire prospects they faced. "We're dealing with an enemy that can travel the violent C-Band as fast as we can travel the calm E-Band. They can do precise short range warps, and they're not afraid to get into a bloody fight without reason."

"Agreed, Captain," Jamil concluded calmly. "Their immediate violent reaction shows they're utterly territorial. Their restless pursuit hints at them being vindictive too. They're not just defending their territory, they're seeking revenge."

"Sir, the sheer size of their fleet is ridiculous," Kurz said, his voice laced with concern. "And that seems to be just one fleet guarding a single farming world with low population. The sheer tonnage of that fleet almost surpasses all space-born assets WEST holds."

"Affirmative, Lieutenant," Tucker added. "It's like they're trying to intimidate us with sheer numbers, and to be honest, it works. But it's not just the numbers, it's the tactics they're using. They will throw everything at us, no matter the costs."

"A single farming world could never sustain such a fleet, Captain," Jamil said, his eyes squinting. "They must be a multi-star civilization. Maybe hundreds, if not thousands of worlds. The implications are staggering. No matter how superior our weaponry is, a fight between our civilizations would be apocalyptic for us."

Captain Marks stood up and straightened his uniform, looking sternly at his command crew "I will not lead them to Earth, and I will not let the Marco Polo fall into their hands," Captain Marks said, his voice firm. "No matter the costs. We'll do whatever it takes to protect our people and our way of life. Sooner I will steer the Marco Polo into a black hole."

"Aye, aye, Captain," the bridge crew replied in unison.

"We'll keep running, and we'll keep fighting," Captain Marks said, his voice resolute. "We'll find a way to outsmart them, outmaneuver them, and outlast them. And if we fail, we make sure they get nothing out of it."

The Marco Polo shuddered as it hit a series of magnetic anomalies of the D-Band warp, everyone tightening their safety belts. This wasn’t going even close to the book.

Jamil spoke up, a hint of sarcasm in his words. "Captain, before we hop into a black hole, I think we should try something. We can't just give up."

Captain Marks nodded grimmly. "I agree. Let's hear some ideas. Speak your minds, people."

Tucker spoke up first. "We can never leave our chasers behind while running on the D-Band, Captain. At worst, those Steampunkers are even able to attack us in warp when they catch up. At best we run out of energy sooner or later."

Dorelman nodded in agreement. "And we would need a couple of minutes in real space to reconfigure our engines for E-Band again. Easily half a day for the G-Band."

Kurz's voice was grim. "We won't survive long enough with the Steampunkers warping right on top of us. We need to come up with something, and fast."

Officer Dorelman's face lit up with a hold-my-beer expression. "I think I have something, Captain. One of our eight warp field generators has been damaged and can't safely operate any more. Instead, we could use it as a decoy."

Marks's eyes narrowed. "Go on."

Dorelman explained, "We could strap an auxiliary generator to it and let it drift while the Marco Polo drops out of warp and reconfigures the engines for E-Band Warp. The decoy would continue on, making it look like we're still running on the D-Band."

Tucker's eyes lit up. "I can synchronize the warp fields between the decoy and the Marco Polo. For an external observer, it would be barely a noticeable blink when the Marco Polo drops out of warp and the decoy continues onwards."

Dorelman nodded. "The warp field generator would need to run at 200% to actually fake our signature. It would sooner or later explode like a nuke.”

“Later would be better,” Jamil remarked. “How about slowly reducing the energy after launch? It's better to keep them guessing than to completely expose the bait by blowing it up.”

Captain Marks's expression turned thoughtful. "Let's get to work. Dorelman, get the decoy ready. Tucker, synchronize the warp fields. Kurz, you’ll have navigation while Dorelman is busy, also double check all weapon systems. Jamil, get me regular sitreps."

The crew sprang into action, their faces set with determination. It was a long shot, but also a good plan.

One hour later, the preparations for the decoy maneuver were complete. Everyone on the bridge was tense as Dorelman opened the hangar doors and floated the decoy outside, a worrying pile of scrap metal held together by duct tape and prayers.

Tucker's hands flew across her console as she tried to synchronize the warp fields. "Slow down, Captain, just a couple of percent. I need to align the fields perfectly."

Captain Marks's. "Kurz, you heard her. After the decoy gets going we don't have much time."

The tension on the bridge was palpable as Tucker worked to synchronize the warp fields. Finally, she nodded, her eyes fixed on her console. "It's done, Captain. Everything is running on computer now."

The Marco Polo's warp field flickered and died, and the decoy propelling both forward for one, two seconds. Then the Marco Polo slipped out of the warp field and with a hefty shaking entered real space. The decoy, meanwhile, was already speeding away several times faster than light.

The crew held their breath as the massive fleet of pursuers passed by through warp space. They could almost feel the disturbance of real space, like someone walking over their graves. It was a chilling feeling, but they knew they had to hold silence.

Dorelman's voice was calm and focused. "Engine room here, starting to align our warp generators to the E-Band Warp Field. ETA three Mike.”

“Let's get away from our warp exit,” Captain Marks announced “Helm, heading 315.90, cruise speed. Dorelman, I love your tinkering but I am gonna get ready if things go south before we get into warp again."

The Marco Polo's relativistic engines roared to life, the ship began to shake and tremble. The crew held on, this was a risky gamble, but they had to try.

Kurz let out a hearty laugh as the ship reached cruise speed. "Let's do this. We'll make it out of here, or we'll die trying."

But then of Tucker spoke concerned. "Distortions in the D-Warp-Field have suddenly ceased, Captain."

Kurz's voice was grim. "Our decoy might have just gone the way of the dodo."

Moments later, Tucker announced, "C-Warp-Fields are winding down, Captain. The enemy seems to be slowing down."

Dorelman's voice was calm and focused. "ETA two minutes for E-Band-Warp, Captain."

The enemy signal came back, moving back towards them. "ETA one mike till Warp, Captain," Dorelman announced.

The enemy armada dropped out of warp, some 1200 kilometers away, realigning for a short warp towards the Marco Polo. "ETA 15 seconds, Captain," Tucker warned.

The enemy fleet blinked in within nine kilometers. "ETA 10 seconds, Captain," Dorelman announced.

Marks's opened the intercom. "Dorelman, hit the button whenever you're ready."

The enemy barrage was underway, but the Marco Polo was ready. "ETA minus 5 seconds, Captain. HIT IT!" Dorelman announced.

The Marco Polo blinked into warp, the enemy barrage wasted on empty space. The crew breathed a collective sigh of relief as the ship disappeared into the safety of the E-Band warp.

"Made it, Captain," Dorelman said, his voice laced with relief.

Marks's voice was calm and resolute. "Let's keep moving, people. We're not out of this yet."

---

The flight in the E-Band was now much smoother than before on the D-Band. The crew had settled into a routine, with repairs going well and the ship managing to keep a safe distance from their pursuers.

With Captain Marks overseeing the repairs of a torpedo launcher, Tucker's voice came over the intercom. "Captain, I've managed to guesswork from the sensor readings the number and tonnage of our followers. Still over 150 ships on our tail."

Captain Marks's expression turned grim. "Keep monitoring them, Tucker. We need to know what they're up to."

The next four days passed in a blur of routine and tension. The crew worked tirelessly to keep the ship running, while the Steampunkers, as the crew had aptly nicknamed them, continued to pursue them.

On the fifth day, Captain Marks called a staff meeting, inviting Reactor Engineer Ling. "Ling, how's our fuel situation looking?"

Ling's expression was serious. "We can operate on this level for two weeks, Captain. But then we'll run out of fuel. We need to stop and scoop some Hydrogen, which would easily require a whole week."

Jamil, who had been quietly observing the conversation, spoke up. "Not exactly an option with the Steampunkers on hot pursuit, is it?"

Kurz's voice was laced with a hint of desperation. "Maybe it's better to go out with a bang than a fizzle. How about the black hole again?"

The room fell silent, with everyone brooding for a moment.

Again it was Jamil who broke the silence, "I wonder if the Steampunkers would follow us into the black hole too."

A sudden blink of realization washed over everyone.

Captain Marks's expression turned cold and calculating.

"It's not the Marco Polo that needs to end in a black hole. It's our pursuers."

A thoughtful Dorelman spoke spoke up. "The Steampunkers have a much lower relative acceleration, Captain. The Marco Polo can burn at 12g for several minutes, maybe more. The Steampunkers... never went beyond 2g. Even their fighters are slower than us."

Jamil's eyes narrowed at Dorelman. "What are you up to?"

Captain Marks let out a cruel chuckle. "We could warp into the gravitational field of a black hole, so close that the Marco Polo could escape at full thrust. But our pursuers would be sucked in, lacking the powerful relativistic engines like the Marco Polo has."

The room fell silent, with everyone considering the implications of Captain Marks's plan.

"Captain, what if the Steampunkers could just evade by a short distance warp?" wondered Tucker concerned.

Dorelman raised a brooding brow. "I'm unsure about the distortions of the black hole, Tucker. It might make their warp ineffective. But if not... If I could generate a B-Band Warp Field, this would definitely disable their C-Band-Fields."

Captain Marks's eyes narrowed. "Nobody travels in B-Band because it literally rips atoms apart, but just generating a disruption B-field, that should be not too hard."

Dorelman nodded. "I can try to modify the warp generators to produce a B-Band disruption field. But we'll need to search for known black holes to find one that's suitable for our plan. We don't want to end up in an active black hole with an accretion disk that glows at billions of degrees.”

Captain Marks's listened carefully then made his decision. "Let's get to work on this plan. I want a list of potential black holes and a detailed plan for generating a B-Band disruption field."

The teams were busy for the next hours, tinkering with the warp generators and researching known black holes. Dorelman and his team worked tirelessly to modify the warp generators, while Jamil, Tucker and Kurz poured over star charts and astronomical data to find the perfect black hole. Everyone knew that their plan was a long shot, but they were willing to try anything to shake off their pursuers.

Four days later. MACHO-20896-BLG-19, an intermediate black hole of he Olbert class, lied in ambush in the darkness, was invisible to the naked eye, only made its presence aware by bending the light of the stars behind it, even consuming light itself, its hunger eternal. And today would be feeding day.

The Marco Polo aligned its flight path tangential towards the gravity well of the monster, its course precise almost down to Planck length.

At his final speech to the crew Captain Marks's voice was calm and resolute.

"Crew of the Marco Polo, you know the plan. This is the moment we shine, no matter the costs. We'll either get home in one piece or die trying. But either way, the Steampunkers are going down into the black hole. If anyone can make this plan work it is us. We'll take out the Steampunkers and hopefully make it back to Earth in one piece. Failure is not an option."

The crew gave back a war cry, their cries full of determination. They knew that they would be dancing on the blade of a knife, the teeth of the monster itself, but they were ready to face it head-on.

And then the Marco Polo flashed back into real space next to MACHO-20896-BLG-19, its gravity well stretching out like a predators claw in the fabric of space-time.

Specialist Elianore Tucker shouted worried across the bridge. "Captain, we're fucking close to the event horizon! We're talking kilometers from the point of no return!"

Captain Marks's calmly called out commands. "Align the ship and fire all thrusters at max power! We need to stabilize our position and hold position for the B-field disruption."

The ship groaned as it was almost bent at 12g, hovering so close to the event horizon that the monster literally blacked out half the sky. The Marco Polo slowed down from falling towards the singularity of the black hole, the limits of known physics straining while keeping the ship intact.

Meanwhile in the engine hall, Dorelman's voice was screaming in frustration while trying to connect another auxiliary power cable directly into the third warp generator. "Come on, you piece of shit! Create the B-field!"

Jamil's voice chimed in, "Did you try rebooting? Maybe it just needs a kick?"

Dorelman's response was a string of curses, "I've tried everything, you numbskull! I've kicked it, I've screamed at it, I've even tried bribing it with a pint of beer!"

To make things worse, the Steampunkers warped in. 152 ships, caught off-guard, facing the black hole, some straight forward warped beyond the event horizon, gone for good, the rest immediately pulled in without mercy. As expected, they quickly aligned, creating their C-warp-fields.

But it was too late. Jamil went bonkers and used a sledgehammer to force the power connector into the warp field generator. Suddenly the lights all over the ship flickered and the generator awoke with a dull humming.

“You fucking did it.” Dorelman laughed and focused the B-field, and the Steampunkers' warp fields violently flickered out of existence, their warp drives crippled by the B-field disruption.

The Marco Polo's crew watched in awe as the Steampunkers' ships were pulled towards the black hole, their screams of despair almost echoing through the void. It was a brutal, merciless end, and the Marco Polo's watched without remorse, the Steampunkers' ships slowly redshifted towards the event horizon, their lights fading into the distance. The Marco Polo's crew surelly respected their enemies but didn't shed a single tear for them.

"Well, I guess black holes just suck," Jamil chuckled with the last enemy ship slowly faded from space-time.

The Marco Polo still burned its engines at 12g, creeping out of the gravity well of the black hole.

"We're so close to the black hole's event horizon” Tucker's voice was filled with awe, “that our time shift is almost by a factor of one thousand, Captain. Time is literally slowing down for us relative to the rest of the universe. One second for us is almost 15 minutes for the outside universe"

Captain Marks's voice was cold and calculating. "Keep burning, people. We need to get out of here before we become part of the black hole's body count."

But before they could even process the enormity of their situation, another fleet of almost 400 ships exited warp below them. More Steampunks to feed the black hole.

The crew's reaction was one of flabbergasted shock. "What the...? How did they even...?" Tucker’s voice trailed off as he stared at the viewscreen in horror.

There was incredulity in Captain Marks' voice. “Did they really send 400 ships as reinforcements without sending a scout ahead? What kind of military strategy is that?”

Tucker's voice was barely above a whisper while she read her sensors. "I think this IS the ahead scout, Captain."

Moments later, almost 2000 ships blinked into real space, also instantly falling towards the black hole. The sheer panicked reaction was evident as tens of thousands of escape pods were launched, none escaping the hunger of the black hole.

And then another fleet, again 2000 ships. And another, 800 ships. All ending up in the maws of the black hole.

The dying took on absurd scales as nothing seemed to stop the vengeful Steampunks from warping into their death. The Marco Polo crew watched in stunned silence as the carnage unfolded before their eyes.

And then, finally... nothing.

The Marco Polo crew remained silent, their faces pale and shocked, as their battle-marked ship slowly crawled out of the gravity well of the black hole. The blackness of the hungry stellar predator seemed to hunger for them, not content with the thousands of ships it had already consumed, swallowed them whole, a dark warning of the horrors they had just witnessed, the crew's minds were reeling, trying to process the sheer scale of the destruction they had just witnessed.

Two hours passed, and the Marco Polo cleared the gravity well of the black hole, finally Captain Marks's relaxed and send out the long awaited command, low and somber. "Dorelman, get us out of here."

Jamil reminded the Captain gently. "Not directly to Earth, Captain. We don't know if they have any more surprises waiting for us."

Marks nodded, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen. "I know. Let's take the long way home."

They entered E-band-warp, again out of the galactic plane, their engines humming as they zig-zagged through local space to shake off any pursuers.

But none showed up.

For weeks, the Marco Polo travelled the endless dark of space, changing course randomly, sometimes luring for a couple of hours behind a deep space asteroid, looking for their hunters, their only companions the distant stars and the endless darkness of space. Finally, they dared to make a long stop around a dark rogue neptuniod, drifting between stars, siphoning off its cold hydrogen and conducting repairs.

Still, no sign of their hunters.

The crew's silence was palpable, an almost suffocating blanket. They knew what they had seen, what they had witnessed. Yes, they saw the defeat of their enemy. But more ominously, they had glimpsed the violent resolve that lay beneath their surface. The message they carried back to Earth was clear: humanity was not alone, and any notions of friendship were a delusion.

After weeks adrift, they finally engaged the G-band warp field, propelling the Marco Polo back toward Earth. They returned with news of how one scientific vessel had vanquished an armada of thousands of warships, but also about an unrelenting enemy. The defeat they had inflicted upon the new enemy would surely awake a vendetta in their alien foes. They had awoken a giant, filled with terrible resolve.

For better or worse humanity would now awake its own monsters to prepare when they meet again.

---

The story itself is complete but I think I need to rewrite some wording and maybe add a more fitting ending.

There's a whole genre of sci-fi that has a major premise as "humanity is the most powerful/dominating/victorious species in the cosmos...and that's not a compliment". I always understood that to be a facet of HFY, but per this sub's description HFY should be "uplifting".

Like, a story where aliens try to invade Earth and we kick their asses is definitely HFY. But what if we then enslave the survivors of the alien horde? What if we reverse engineer their tech, go to their homeworld, and nuke their planet? What if we tailor a virus to their genome and purge the galaxy of their entire species, and their little alien babies die screaming in their little alien cribs?

Is that HFY?

Undocumented Buttons

"Globtroq, what are these buttons for?" asked the spindly Ognimalf named Bert, holding the pilot chair upside-down to his obese Adnap buddy, Globtroq. The unlikely duo owned a run-down repair shop for small spacecraft in the remote corners of the galaxy. Their business was far from glamorous; in fact, they spent most of their days fiddling with spaceships that had been acquired in rather dubious ways.

Globtroq looked at the buttons: two green, two pink, one grayish. They were cleverly concealed beneath the obviously human pilot chair.

“Dunno…” Globtroq mumbled, reaching towards the buttons.

"Hell no, don't touch them!" Bert shrieked, pulling the chair away. "Last time you pressed an undocumented button in a human spaceship, you emptied the entire septic tank into our garage!"

“Uhm, sorry, instinct…” grunted the portly Globtroq “Never seen such buttons. Don’t know.”

Bert held the chair overhead, turned it around, then put it under the examination lamp and used the sonic scanner on it, looking for clues.

"This doesn't make sense," he snorted in annoyance. "No labels, no cables. What are these buttons for?"

The stubby Globtroq climbed on top of table and peered at the pilot chair. “Dunno… but they hid them well. Must be something very special. You know how humans are. Always doing something incredible stupid in a brilliant way or something brilliant in an incredible stupid way.”

Meanwhile Bert flipped through the printed manual, gasping in frustration. "Crap! This manual is printed in 24 different human languages, and I can't read a single one of them. Globtroq, get me a dictionary."

…ten hours later...

"...and this button controls the windshield wiper speed," Bert finished, tossing the manual annoyed into a corner.

Globtroq, scratching his fluffy behind, asked cluelessly, "Uh, Bert, I dozed off, did they mention anything about those buttons?"

“NOTHING!” squeaked Bert “They fucking wrote NOTHING about buttons under the pilots chair!”

"That's odd," Globtroq shrugged.

“That’s not odd, that’s steaming Nacluv Shit!” a pretty pissed Bert snorted. Then he declared, holding the thick manual in his hand, "I'm going to translate the entire manual until I find out what these buttons are for!"

"That's only the Quick-start Manual," Globtroq dryly stated, lifting a massive box filled with thousands of pages onto the table.

The spindly Ognimalf suddenly grasped the enormity of the task before him, and the vibrant pink in his feathers faded away...

…six days later…

Bert's feathers had turned almost grayish as he studied the endless stack of manuals in front of him. His annoyed brooding was interrupted when Globtroq startled him by entering without knocking. As usual.

"Globtroq, what the... who is that alien?" Bert asked, pointing at a newcomer.

The fatty pointed back at his companion and replied dryly, “I found a human. It is a human pilot chair. A human should know about the buttons. Human, that spindly dude is Bert. Bert is not his real name but I am unable to pronounce his real name. Bert, that is human.”

The human let out an amused chuckle and nodded at the spindly Ognimalf. "Hey there, I'm Max. Well, that's not my full name either, but Globtroq can't wrap his tongue around..."

Max couldn't finish his sentence as Bert interrupted him, exclaiming, "Oh, by the feather gods! A human! I was going bonkers! Look, we've got this pilot chair from a human spaceship, and it has buttons that are nowhere to be found in any documentation. We've been at it for nearly a week, and…"

"Hold on, buddy. I'm just a tourist; I know zilch about piloting a spaceship..." Max explained. However, seeing the color drain from Bert's feathers, he felt a pang of sympathy for the alien avian. "...but hey, I'll take a look and see what I can see, alright?"

Globtroq happily led Max to the chair and showed him the buttons, while Bert looked at the ceiling and wallowed in despair.

“Uhm, I have an assumption” Max stated “can I visit the cockpit for a moment?”

A sulking Bert and an overjoyed Globtroq led him into the small cockpit, where Max promptly opened the glove compartment, retrieved something, asking, “You wouldn’t mind if I take one of these human snacks?”

Bert just continued sulking while Globtroq happily took one of the small snacks offered by Max.

"Tasty," Globtroq remarked.

Max nodded in agreement and returned to the pilot chair “Cherry flavor. A bit past its prime, but still good.”

Bert reluctantly followed, trying to sulk as hard as possible.

And then, to everyone's surprise, Max spat out his snack and pressed it alongside the other buttons under the pilot's chair. It stuck.

“Gentlebeings.” Max announced dramatically, "the individual who sold you this heap of junk was a downright repulsive being. These buttons? They're dried-up globs of chewing gum."

---

The End ---

(This is my first attempt at writing HFY, I hope you guys enjoy it)

The k'tarr representative raised their voice over the hum of chattering dignitaries "Attention every, may I have your attention please! I understand we are all concerned but if we are to find a solution we must have order."
As the chattering of dignitaries subsided they continued "As you all know we are gathered here today to discuss the ongoing attack by hostile species fourteen..."
"What do we even know about species fourteen?"
"Would the tyrl representative please allow me to finish before speaking. It is indeed true that we know almost nothing of species fourteen itself, other than that which we have been able to discern from the construction of the catalyst weapons used against our worlds."
Catalyst weapons; the words sent a murmur through the arrayed representatives while the photocommunicators flashed with alarmed reds and sorrowful blues. Seated at the head of the assembly, the races of the afflicted worlds reacted with mixed stowicism, anger, and deep saddness.
Struggling to maintain composure the k'tarr representative continued "I will now scede the floor to the honorable prince sheltaf of the mycorian republic who may be able to grant us further insight on the nature of species fourteen."

Hobbling and assisted by a ceremonial bodyguard, sheltaf radix, third prince of the mycorian republic, ascended to the podium soft lines of pained yellow flashing along his side with each step. "I'm sure none of you here today know me, as a mere third prince my role in political affairs was minor. I do believe however that all of you knew my older sister the honorable diplomat rhelsha; it is my deepest regret to bring you news of her death, as well as that of the second and fourth princes, and my parents."
Solemnity at once took the crowd as the last whispers and feint flashes died away.
"As the eldest surviving member of the radix family it is my responsibility to take on her role as representative to the council, and to tell you how she died."

"As many of you know our capital world was the first hit by the catalyst, though the exact events are murky and reconstruction is ongoing I believe we are now able to provide the council with an aproximate series of events."
Behind him the council chambers screen lit up to display a diagram of a long elipsoid object reminiscent of a torpedo. "On the date of approximately 14/09/2358 [translated for readability] standard galactic time this object is believed to have been picked up by sensors entering the secure space around the capital world shala. At the time the object was dismissed as debris and recieved no further attention beyond the standard logging of such objects."

The screen changed to display a real image of the same object, this time inside a biohazard containment chamber and bearing dents and scorching from re-entry.
"It was not until the object subtly shifted orbit at the last minute and entered into a re-entry trajectory that the alarm was rasied, unfortunately for all of us it was already too late. Immediately preceeding and for some time post impact the object began dispersing a cocktail of various previously unknown micro-organisms, fungal spores, and seeds; the first response team on site had their respiratory systems completely overwhelmed within minutes."
The screen changed once more, revealing an image of shala from low orbit, Even from orbit a pale green scar could be seen originating from the impact point, overtaking the pastel blue of the worlds native flora. "Before we knew what was heppening the foreign organism began overtaking our natural environment at an alarming rate, our forrests were broken down into slurry by alien bacteria, the air became choked with deadly spores and the most unfortunate were directly parisatized and consumed by aggressive flora; my sister..."

As the last prince of shala lapsed into silence representative k'tarr resumed the podium and glanced at the head of the assembly. "I'm sure many of you have similar stories to share, at present twenty one worlds have been overrun by the catalyst bioweapon and trillions have died."
There was a commotion among the assembled delegates as the lanian representative broke down and had to be removed from the assembly.
"Thanks to the bravery and sacrifice of mycorian scientists, and many others from all over the union we do now have at least some information about species fourteen. Reverse engineering of the catalyst weapons themselves suggests their spaceflight is surprisingly crude as each one utilizes only the most basic and inneficient of blink drives, analysis of the alloys used suggests they were manufactured under a lower gravity than is standard for habitable worlds. Finally sequenceing of the genomes of some of the bioweapon strains shows they share a common base, though we cannot expect species fourteens natural ecology to be remotely similar to that of their bioweapons our scientists believe we can still uncover valuble information about their metabolisms and the likely atmospheric composition of their homeworld."

The council chamber erupted in speculation as delegates considered the potential implications of such information and argued about how it should be used. As the chatter grew into a roar the delegate k'tarr once again had to raise their voice. "I'm sure you all have questions, even demands; before then I have one simple proposition. Scientsits from the mycorian republic working with the countil believe they have pinpointed the aproximate location of species fourteens homeworld. My government proposes a resolution to launch a covert expedition to this world in order to gather more information about our enemy in advance of a counterattack. If there are no objections to this proposal would the esteemed representatives please now cast their votes.

The Survivors

“How did your people survive your first contact with the humans?” Slaver Lord Abrax catches up with Guild Master Felbin right after the official part of the conference was over.

“Hm?” the fat albino wombat wonders while munching fried roaches, looking puzzled into the face of the mighty reptilian warrior. “What do you mean? Survive?”

“You said you made first contact recently with the humans, didn’t you?”

“Oh yes. Weird people. Crossed into an exclusive trade zone inside our border, nibbled at some asteroids without asking. I send a scout ships, delivered an angry message to them. They were all ‘Oh, did we something wrong? You claim these? We need fuel, can we make a deal?’”

Felbin shovels another hand full of roasted bugs into his mouth, munching happily.

“So they were in a weak position? And you did press your advantage?”

Between munching the wombat mumbles “Oh No. Their fleet was quite impressive. Two medium support carriers, around a dozen smaller escort ships, two dozen industrial ships. A lot more than we had at hand at that moment. We were quite surprised when they offered compensation for trespassing our territory and a pretty fair deal on keeping the resources. And they immediately entered trade talks with us.”

“Stop bullshitting me old usurer!” the reptilian growls “How in the world did you force the humans into submission? When we learned of the humans we send a slaver fleet to their world, numbering hundreds of mighty warships, demanding 0,2% of their population per year as tribute. A very fair deal as you will agree!”

The wombat did the equivalent of shrugging his shoulders “Well if you say so. How did it end?”

“It ended terrible for them! We killed millions of them by our penal operation when they rejected our generous offer!”

“Well, that is partially true but not the whole story.” Princess Shem, her large belly swollen by hundreds of eggs interrupts the discussion. Outranked, the Slaver Lord hissed in annoyance and fell silent.

“They fought your fleet back with monstrous weapons, vaporising your mighty flagship with a single one of their ungodly ‘Nukes’, even ships dozens of miles away had their outer hulls molten by this single attack. After less than an hour your fleet had scattered. The biggest damage your fleet did was raining debris on their world, killing a couple of million unprepared civilians.”

“How do you know…” the Slaver Lord gasps “Not a single Slaver made it back alive!”

The princess bows down her antennas in shame “Because my father, the rightful ruler of my people, is currently prisoner of war in the hands of the humans. He watched your foolish posturing on television in his prison cell and was allowed to report the incident back to his home world as a deterrent against future aggression.”

“Your people surrendered to the humans? How pitiful!” laughs the Slaver Lord.

“Surrendered? No, we were simply overrun. And we most likely only got off easy because the humans decided you were a bigger threat.”

The wombat looks at the princess in surprise “Oh, your people went at war with the humans too? But why?”

“Territorial dispute. They settled a barren world in a remote system, we had a claim on it for centuries. In return we annexed one of their border colonies, arrested their officials and put them on trial.”

Master Felbin put his empty bowl aside and reached for the wine. “Oh. I guess they send you an angry letter, did they?”

“The letter was lacking all rules of court.” boasted the princess with her antennae twitching angrily “It made demands were praise was required and disputed the obvious. It was literally an insult. Can you imagine? They demanded ‘a diplomatic talk’ and ‘compensation’.”

While grooming his fur Master Felbin dryly stated “Well, I know myself human diplomats and lawyers are a very special pest. The trade agreement we worked out with them is literally an epic in itself, surpassing absolutely any work of literature of my people in length and complexity. The chapter on the shape of bananas alone is over 1400 pages long. Thanks but no thanks."

Felbin licked some wine before continuing "So you found their diplomats lacking and tried if their warriors were more amicable and found them lacking too?”

The princess grumbles ashamed “We never met their warriors. They send a police assault unit and subdued our occupation force while we were hibernating…”

Slave Lord Abrax laughed aloud “Oh yes, we also found out the hard way that humans do not hibernate like most others do. In fact they only need a light sleep to recover and not much of it anyway. Also they can go for days without sleep. Freck. To keep up with them we needed to outnumber them 10 to one, taking turns in sleeping 18 hours and fighting one hour. And then they still manage to outdo us most of the time.”

Guild Master Felbin stopped licking at his expensive gobble of wine. “Aha, so you were pretty lucky when they offered you a somewhat fair peace deal?”

“Ending slavery was not a ‘somewhat fair peace deal’” Abrax railed “Our whole society was based on exploitation of the weak and now even high warriors have to clean their houses themselves and pay for mere services like food preparation. This is utterly unacceptable!”

“Oh dear, how pitiful you look.” Felbin giggled “And still both of you can be happy you survived your first contact with the humans almost intact.”

“Like there is any bigger disgrace than having ones father being prisoner of war.” Princess Shem grumbled.

“Or having to change your entire way of living.” Slaver Lord Abrax muttered.

“Yes, I think I am the lucky one of us three” smirked Felbin “although I have regular nightmares about human paper work recently. But trust me, compared to the devourers, we all got off easy.”

“The Devourers?” Abrax laughed “They are a myth. Parents tell their children about the Devourers when they don’t behave and need a good scare.” and with a mocking tone he continued “Head your parents words or the Devourers eat you!”

Even Princess Shem proclaimed with fervour: "As if nature would even allow such horrors! Beasts the size of a house, attacking entire worlds in apocalyptic numbers and devouring everything in their path."

“Oh, nonono. Devourers are not a myth.” the guild master explained “Yes, they haven’t swarmed in two centuries but my people still remember them from the old times when they crushed even the best defended worlds into dust during their reproduction cycle.”

Looking for something, Felbin continued “Actually, have you seen the Human Ambassador? Or, to be more precise, his young daughter?”

Shem turned her antennae towards the girl on the other side of the conference room: “She doesn't look anything special. For a human.”

“Nonono, also not the daughter. Her pet. The six legged creature sitting on her shoulder?”

Abrax and Shem looked puzzled at Guildmaster Felbin, then at the creature on the young girl's shoulder. The creature purred and played with the scraps of food the daughter offered to it.

“That is what is left of the devourers after the humans have tamed them.”

This is a massively reworked repost. The original has been posted a couple of weeks ago. I reworked it several times so it bears little connection to the original.

...

Yorktown

Yorktown

Chapter 1: First Blood

Admiral Tosomo of the Heraldry fleet tightened his safety belt one last time in the command room aboard the 'Fist of the Six Kingdoms'. Moments later, his fleet dropped out of warp, catching the unprepared Terran Proxima Fleet off guard. A cunning attack on the warp inhibitors allowed his fleet to strike directly at the heart of the enemy's main fleet base. Just five minutes earlier, the Empire of the Hundred Suns had officially declared war on the Terran Federation.

Tosomo began issuing orders from his prepared checklist. Everything was going according to plan so far. "Launch all bombers, followed by the fighters! Rail-guns, target their launch bays! Prevent their drones and fighters from launching!"

A rain of death and destruction descended upon the unprepared base, causing ships to explode and turning the battle into a one-sided massacre. However, Tosomo felt unsatisfied as half of the expected enemy fleet was nowhere to be seen, particularly the heavy carriers. Nevertheless, he had managed to lay ruin to a third of the coreward Terran fleet.

"My Lord," a young officer reported with a polite salute, "a fleet is approaching at high speed. Seven carriers and twenty-eight support destroyers. They have already deployed their drones and are advancing in full battle readiness!"

Surprised, Admiral Tosomo felt his neck fur bristle. Some enemies had not only managed to avoid complete annihilation, but they had also regrouped quickly for a counter-attack!

With his own troops running low on ammunition and out of position, Tosomo ordered an orderly withdrawal. Most of his objectives had been achieved, and now it was time to minimize losses.

"All fighters and bombers, disengage and break contact!” Tosomo commanded, “Wings still armed with anti-ship weapons, delay the enemy fleet as much as possible. Your bravery will be honored in the afterlife. All other wings, fall back to the nearest carrier. To all fleet ships: prepare for an orderly withdrawal."

As the Imperial fleet aligned for the withdrawal, two wings of heavy bombers headed towards the approaching Terran fleet, ready to meet the honorable death of an Imperial knight. Out of the 26 Imperial bombers, 21 were destroyed by the drones, SHORAD, and CIWS of the Terran fleet. Four bombers rammed into support destroyers, reducing them to molten wrecks, while one hit the bridge of the light carrier Yorktown, causing her to lose control and break formation, with fires raging on half of her decks.

With most of their objectives fulfilled, the Imperial Fleet departed, leaving behind burning wrecks and ruins, marking the beginning of the second interstellar war against the Terran Federation.

...

Chapter 2: To Victory

"You have performed admirably, Heraldry Admiral Tosomo," praised the Emperor personally during the audience, commending Tosomo for his remarkable success. It been just three weeks ago since the significant blow to the Terran Federation, with only 26 bombers lost while eliminating the most significant obstacle in the campaign to gain control of the Centauri system.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Tosomo replied, "May your light shine upon your knights and your shadow fall upon your enemies."

On the sidelines, the Emperor's sycophants and courtiers rejoiced at the imminent victory. However, Tosomo remained silent, accepting the praise while knowing that the battle was far from over.

And no sooner had he left the throne room than his adjutant approached him with grave news.

"My Lord, a ragtag fleet has just attacked supply outpost seventeen. The enemy fleet consisted of two light carriers with four destroyers for support. The leading carrier was the Yorktown."

Again, Tosomo felt the fur on the back of his neck stand up. The Yorktown... she was supposed to be a wreck. The bridge, the sensors—everything had been destroyed, akin to a decapitation by a sword. He had witnessed the fires raging below deck. Impossible.

He straighten up. "Prepare the second detachment. I will personally deal with the Yorktown."

One month later, Tosomo stood on the command deck of the 'Fist of the Six Kingdoms' once again. And there, facing him, was the Yorktown. She bore the scars of her previous battle but had been mostly repaired. A new tower, new sensors, new drones. She had not perished last time. But today, she would meet her end.

The enemy fleet was headed to join the main fleet, with the Imperial Fleet hot on their tail. The knights in their fighters and bombers closed in, overwhelming the main defenses of the enemy fleet. They fell swiftly, but not without a brutal fight. Only the Yorktown remained, her drones assembled around her, her flight deck riddled with holes, her guns glowing hot. She defiantly withstood the relentless assault of a superior enemy for another moment.

Finally Tosomo saluted the valiant ship as her engine exploded, tearing apart her aft section. She had fought bravely, but it had been a matter of honor for Tosomo to be the one to end her. He had gambled high to achieve his goal. Perhaps too high. Not only had he lost one wing of his best pilots to the enemy, but now his other five wings were dangerously low on fuel. The Terran Fleet's main force was closing in rapidly, their spearhead wings already engaging the depleted Imperial wings.

Tosomo decided to cut his losses and ordered the three most distant wings to die in honor while directing his fleet to retreat to safety. As his fleet disappeared into the darkness of deep space, the Yorktown continued to burn brightly while the Terran main fleet annihilated the remaining Imperial stragglers.

...

Chapter 3: Waypoint Station

Tosomo personally welcomed the replacement pilots aboard his fleet. Word had spread about the Yorktown, a mysterious ghost ship returning from the dead to haunt the living.

"You are following in the footsteps of the Empire's most honorable knights. We Knights strike hard, we knights strike fast, we knights hunt down our enemies without mercy. Do not believe the enemy's lies about the ghost ship. I personally witnessed her destruction. She is no more. Let the story of the Yorktown serve as a warning to our enemies that we never allow them to escape after shedding our blood."

He looked into the faces of the young recruits. They looked green, insecure. Those weren’t the elite knights he had to sacrifice to hunt down the Yorktown. But they would have to suffice for now. They would have to do for the upcoming campaign to capture Way-Point Station. A rotten dirt ball in the middle of nowhere, but also the most important resupply outpost within four light years.

Three months later his fleet dropped from warp, far away from Way-Point station. Eight heavy carriers, twelve battleships, sixty smaller escort ships. The Terran Warp-Scramblers were plenty and powerful, so this was the closest he could get to the outpost. He couldn't even determine the exact location of the enemy fleet, but he knew they faced the same challenge. The Imperial Fleet burned their engines hot to create distance from the warp exit point. Scouts raced off into the dark, fighters formed defensive screens around the fleet, and bombers prepared for action. After three days of stalking in the darkness, the scouts had reported only minimal enemy activity towards Way-Point Station.

The overall absence of enemy presence suggested that the station had no fleet defending it. Tosomo ordered his fleet to advance towards the station, preparing for planetary bombardment. From a safe distance, he launched his bombers and escort fighters, ready to surprise the station as he had done months ago against the Proxima base.

However, with his wings just halfway to the enemy base all hell broke lose! Several enemy scouts appeared from a different direction than the enemy base! Impossible! But what if the enemy fleet was nearby? Did both fleets pass each other just out of sensor range?

Tosomo immediately called back all fighters and bombers. He hastily launched his fighter reserve for fleet defense, urgently needed space in his hangars to accommodate the returning bombers, had to refit them for fleet operation, all while his flight decks were in utter chaos.

Just as he completed the reconfiguration, enemy bombers appeared on the sensors—six wings, a massive fleet. That was the complete complement of a heavy carrier! How could he have missed such a significant target?

His reserve fighters barely managed in time to engage the Terran bombers in a brutal fight and eventually emerged victorious. Meanwhile, his bombers and fighters returned from their interrupted assault on Way-Point Station, causing a bottleneck on the landing deck. Fighter after fighter, bomber after bomber waited for their landing clearance, resulting in overcrowding and confusion, several wings needing ammunition or armed with the wrong ammunition

Tosomo made the decision to reconfigure half of his fighters for fleet defense while refitting the other fighters and all bombers for anti-ship combat. He had just dispatched his first bomber wing to the suspected location of the enemy when the sirens blared again—more bombers were approaching from Way-Point Station!

The green fighters of his reserve wing attacked the enemy straight forward and without fear. And sure they won but by paying a terrible price in blood.

...

Chapter 4: A rock and a hard place

Just when Tosomo thought he would get a break another wing approached from another direction – there was only one sane conclusion: His fleet was trapped between two fleets and Way-point Station! They could attack from three sides at will. Unbeknownst to Tosomo, the last wing had been mistakenly sent in the wrong direction and was now returning with its fuel dangerously low, inadvertently stumbling upon the Imperial fleet.

His half refitted bombers and fighters filled his hangers, his fleet was essentially not combat-ready. Whatever was combat ready he threw into the meat grinder, several unorganized fighters from several ships joined the fray – within minutes, hundreds of fighters and bombers darted on fiery lances in the endless dark, tracer rounds drew lines across the darkness, explosions flashed through the sky. Even Tosomo struggled to keep up with the fierce fighting happening so close to his fleet.

Amidst the chaos a single enemy bomber slipped through and went straight for the open hangar bay of the heavy carrier ‘Spirit of the Ancestors’. The carriers guns spat fire and death towards the intruder, damaging him but not stopping him. The bomber crashed into the hanger, full of armed ships, full of ammunition. What happened next was a fierce flash as the ‘Spirit of the Ancestors’ was simply vaporized from internal explosions!

Tosomo slumped back in his seat, horrified by the sudden loss of one of his most valuable ships. His fleet was trapped, and the enemy continued to relentlessly attack. The Terrans had already lost seven full wings, yet another wing appeared on the sensors.

Finally a scout reported the location of one of the enemies fleets.

Six carriers. Two heavy carriers, four light carriers. Among them...

The Yorktown!

Bearing even more scars from her last battles. However, still she was moving under full power, riding on bright flames towards Tosomos fleet! Where he had seen her old engines explode, new pristine engines drove her forward, out of hell towards him, driven by a thirst for revenge. She unleashed fighters, bombers, and drones without end, accompanied by her fellow ships. Seven more wings were heading towards Tosomo's fleet, and there could be even more.

Tosomo gave the order to launch any armed fighter and bomber, regardless of their fitting. He sent the ground attack bombers against Way-Point Station and two formations of anti-ship bombers against the two fleets, against the fleet he successfully scouted, and the one he mistakenly believed to exits but was just the single enemy wing having lost its way. It was a last gamble before the hammer would come down on him.

When the Terran fighters and Imperial bombers engaged above Tosomo's fleet, it turned into a massacre. For the first time, the Imperials suffered significant losses and became increasingly disorganized. A random anti-ship missile struck another carrier, causing it to lose power. An enemy fighter pursued an Imperial fighter near Tosomo's flagship – the carriers CIWS made quick work of the Terran fighter but also of the Imperial fighter, both crashing into Tosomos ship. One hit the engines, while the other crashed so close to the bridge that the bridge decompressed, causing all systems to go offline.

Tosomo found himself hurled through the bridge, surrounded by debris. His adjutant was impaled by a steel bar, and Tosomo briefly lost consciousness. When he regained awareness, two ensigns were dragging him to a shuttle and informed him they were abandoning ship and transferring to the battleship 'Worlds on Fire.' Just as he boarded the shuttle, a massive explosion rocked the carrier, and through the hangar shields, he witnessed the 'Valiant Victory' drifting, ablaze and leaking atmosphere—another heavy carrier lost.

Upon reaching his new command deck on the 'Worlds on Fire,' he surveyed the losses. Out of the eight heavy carriers, four were completely lost. Two were burning but salvageable. The enemy fighters and bombers were retreating after suffering heavy losses. His own fighters still were so numerous that he didn’t even have space to land them on his last two carriers, not to mention the many bombers operating in the deepness of space.

Meanwhile, his bombers had reached Way-Point Station and commenced bombing empty hangars, depleted ammunition depots, and half empty fuel depots. A pointless operation, Way-Point Station was just an empty shell after having dealt massive damage to his fleet.

Shortly after this Pyrrhic victory, the anti-ship wings Tosomo had launched earlier finally encountered the enemy carrier group. Two Terran fighter wings met them face on and Tosomos bombers melted away like snow in the summer sun, under the combined fire of the fleet and the fighters. However, an Imperial wing managed to break through the Terran line, firing their ordinance at the Terran fleet, resulting in the destruction of several support ships and direct hits on three carriers. Among them, the Yorktown suffered significant damage, losing its main maneuver thrusters and spiraling out of control.

With no place to retreat, the Imperial bombers received the final order from Tosomo: fight to the death. The Yorktown. He realized how much of a symbol she had become. A symbol which he intended to destroy, no matter the costs. Out of spite, he ordered his doomed wings to focus their attacks on the Yorktown.

The battle around the Terran fleet intensified as they valiantly defended the Yorktown. Despite the Terrans efforts, the Imperial bombers managed to strike the Yorktown seven more times until she finally broke in two, her keel shattered and her gut spilling into space.

Tis was good. The Yorktown was no more. A flawed but personal victory for Tosomo.

He immediately ordered his fleet to retreat, but it was not an orderly withdrawal. It was a desperate run for their lives. He left behind the wreckage of four carriers, two battleships, and six escort ships. Compared to his initial strength, only one-third of the fighters and bombers managed to squeeze into the remaining hangars, leaving a quarter of them behind with no room to land. They had no choice but to fight to the end, devoid of ammunition and fuel. They refused to surrender, and the Terran fleet simply waited for them to suffocate in the dark, cold void of space.

...

Chapter 5: The Ghost Ship

"So you have finally brought the Emperor's justice upon the Yorktown, Heraldry Admiral Tosomo."

Tosomo couldn't ignore the slight insecurity in the Emperor's voice, though he would never mention that publicly.

"Yes, Your Highness. She is no more. She broke in two. We haven't seen her for six months. She is gone."

Since the Battle of Way-Point Station, the Imperial fleet had been force into defense, and at Tosomo's request, he was now overseeing the fleet's rebuilding.

The Emperor waved his hand, and a hologram of a battle appeared in the middle of the room.

"Then explain this to me."

The Yorktown! Her flight deck ablaze! She was sailing without power above the burning Imperial colony of Oshtay Prime, surrounded by Terran and Imperial wrecks. The Terrans had rebuilt her AGAIN! The damaged midsection was visibly replaced with a new one, made from a different material. She had even gotten larger through this repair, now easily classifying as a medium assault carrier.

"My Lord, this cannot be true! I saw her... but... it is her! I recognize her scars! It is the Yorktown again! My Lord, I have no excuse for my failure."

"This is getting out of hand," thundered the Emperor. "The Empire is becoming alarmed by the rampant myths surrounding this insignificant ship. Even the children fear the undying Yorktown."

Tosomo didn't dare to look at the Emperor as his voice boomed through the hall.

"I, Emperor Yaday the 19th, command you to restore your honor by putting an end to this insult to our might once and for all. Dismissed."

Etiquette demanded that Tosomo remain silent and depart the hall, his face bowed in shame. Thankfully, this concealed his horrified expression from the Emperor.

...

Chapter 6: Undying

It happened again. At the battle of Leifstein the Yorktown showed up again. Bearing scars all over her hull she engaged in a one-on-one battle with Tosomo’s heavy carrier. She ultimately lost but managed to ram her burning hulk into a nearby Imperial battleship. Then Tosomo was then forced to order his fleet to fall back to avoid being flanked by the Terran main fleet.

Just two days later, Tosomo witnessed the badly damaged Yorktown escorting a troop carrier, using her SHORAD and CIWS systems to protect the troops during their landing. The bow of the Yorktown was mostly gone, ripped away, exposing her interior structure. Although unable to function as a carrier, her guns proved effective in suppressing the imperial ground forces. In the end, the Yorktown crash-landed alongside the troop carrier, and her crew joined the ground assault. As a result, the Imperial fleet had to break orbit after losing their ground-to-orbit cover.

Following a brutal six-week slaughter, the colony fell. The Emperor's personal order was for his troops to fight to the last drop of blood, demonstrating to the Terrans the high cost of further incursions into Imperial territory. Thus, his troops perished while fulfilling their duty. Out of nearly three million Imperial soldiers, fewer than 300 survived. The toll on the Terran side was also significant, but their war machine, now running at full steam, showed little sign of slowing down.

Four weeks later, the Yorktown reappeared, hastily patched together but already operating at 80% efficiency. While patrolling supply lines, she encountered an Imperial fleet detachment and rescued an Amazonax Super Freighter from certain destruction. Facing an Imperial light carrier and two escort ships, the commanders on both sides stared each other down for a minute before the Terran Captain transmitted his laughter via radio to his enemy and ordered the attack on the superior force.

The Imperial ships' final transmission reported a burning escort ship, one escort ship dishonoring itself by fleeing with dozens of fighters in pursuit, and the Yorktown ramming her nose directly into the bridge of the Imperial carrier. The Yorktown had been leaking atmosphere even before the ramming operation, so her crew was as good as dead. The next day, Terran news reported the successful boarding and capture of the imperial light carrier by the Yorktown's crew—an unprecedented feat in the age of space combat!

When the Terran fleet reached the last world before the Imperial planetopolis two months later, it was hardly a fair fight. The Imperial ships were in dire shape, with even their vac-doors failing to seal properly due to a lack of spare parts. For every Imperial ship there were three Terran ship, for every Imperial fighter there were five Terran fighters, for every Imperial bombers there were three Terran bombers, twice the size of the Imperial ones.

The battle commenced with the Yorktown flanking the enemy and launching waves of bombers at the Imperial supply ships. The results were devastating for the Imperial force. What was expected to be a months-long siege was reduced to a battle lasting days before supplies ran out. Sure, the Yorktown got punished hard—railguns and torpedoes tore open her portside, she began to tumble and slowly descend into the atmosphere, trailed by dozens of enemy and friendly fighters and bombers locked in combat. When she crashed into the south pole's ice, she lost her bridge once again, broke her keel, and half of her decks burned out. Nevertheless, her surviving crew held out in the grim cold isolation for three weeks until rescue arrived.

The last Imperial transmission from the world of 'Gods Praise' depicted heavy Terran carriers towing the wreckage of the Yorktown into the newly conquered Imperial docks for repairs. The Yorktown had become an almost unrecognizable heap of junk and twisted metal.

For the first time, Imperial forces surrendered en masse on the ground and in orbit. When the Imperial knights were asked about their surrender, many claimed they were afraid of the undead ship. That they believed they couldn't fight an enemy that returned ceaselessly from the afterlife to fulfill her duty.

...

Chapter 7: Endgame

The palace of Emperor Yaday the 19th shook under heavy shock waves. The end was nigh; it was obvious to everyone except the Emperor. The Terran fleet darkened the sky and swiftly overwhelmed the orbital defenses. The once honorable knights of the Empire still stood before the enemy, but they were so few in number, most knights now were fearful youngsters, hastily conscripted, filled with doubt and fear. They surrendered in droves.

Heraldry Admiral Tosomo stared down the Imperial bodyguards.

"Let me in. This is your final warning," he commanded.

The last of the Emperor's bodyguards stood at gunpoint, facing Tosomo's personal knights.

"We cannot. We have sworn an oath," one replied as they reached for their swords.

"Very well. May the gods honor your loyalty. I will not."

Tosomo waved his hand, and his knights gunned down the Emperor's bodyguards. Without wasting a second, they broke through the door to the throne room, surrounding the Emperor without an Empire, their guns pointed at him.

"Put an end to this madness NOW!" Tosomo barked.

"You are betraying your oath, subordinate!"

Tosomo held up a communication device, displaying the face of a human admiral.

"I am Grand Admiral Wilhelm Praetorius the Elder, commander of the allied Terran Fleets. We are prepared for a full-scale invasion of your last world. Your game is over. Save face and salvage what remains of your Empire. Surrender now."

"Never!" Yaday defiantly cried out.

"Then we will send the Yorktown after you. She witnessed the beginning of this war and will witness its end. This frequency will remain open until she arrives."

Tosomo had reached his breaking point. He stormed forward, grabbed his Emperor by the collar, held a gun against his head, and dragged him toward the balcony.

"Look at what you have brought upon your Empire! Upon your Heir! Upon your people!"

A distant light in the sky gradually descended and accelerated, leaving behind a trail of smoke and fire. It seemed to move slowly, but that was an illusion; the object was simply far away and immense. Slowly, the light grew brighter, the flames surrounding it became more distinct, and its shape began to take form. The flames receded, and the silhouette became recognizable—it was the Yorktown, heading straight for the palace!

"They wouldn't dare!" cried Yaday.

"Think, you fool!" shouted Tosomo. "Your Heir is in this very palace. Your entire family is in this city! You have mere moments to save your family, your dynasty!"

The Yorktown thundered above the roofs of the peasant quarters. Windows shattered and roofs collapsed from the powerful shockwave. It was now evident that she was a crude patchwork of different metal plates, a wounded and vengeful monster. Nevertheless, Yaday remained resolute.

Tosomo took a deep breath. These might be his final words in this world.

"Yaday, do you understand what will happen when the Yorktown arrives? Your dynasty will perish, and the Yorktown will be repaired to sail the stars once more. Do you want to grant a piece of junk the honor of ending an 80-generation heraldic line? Do you?"

Yaday realized the gravity of these words. He twitched briefly in shock, grabbed the communicator, the bow of the fast approaching Yorktown now casting a colossal shadow over the Imperial gardens before him.

“I surrender! Stop her! Stop the Yorktown!”

With those words spoken, the reverse thrusters of the Yorktown engaged. A tempest roared through the gardens, uprooted trees, shattered windows, raised a cloud of dust across the palace. Yaday and Tosomo were blown off their feet, fell backward into the throne hall. Yet, the Yorktown continued moving forward.

She grew larger and larger, dominating the sky. Her bow loomed higher than the Imperial palace. The storm transformed into a hurricane, shaking the very foundations of the Empire. The cries of Yaday and Tosomo were drowned out by the deafening hurricane.

Then, silence.

Tosomo peered out to the balcony. All he could see was the bow of the Yorktown, obstructing the view of the outside world. The ship that had hunted him for years, the ship that refused go down. She stood unmoving for a moment, hovering above the garden, her bow so close to the balcony that Tosomo could almost touch her. Then, she descended a few feet and sank into the soft grass of the imperial garden. And never moved again.

For the first time, Tosomo didn't see the Yorktown as an enemy. She was a noble warrior who had reached the end of her duty. And laid down her sword without question when her fight was over. She bore countless scars. Tosomo examined her armor. Made from the hulls of her slain adversaries—the 'Fist of the Six Kingdoms,' the 'Valiant Victory,' the 'King's Honor,' the 'Protector of the Light'. And so many more. Not a single piece of her hull originated from Terran forges after all those battles.

He took a step closer, reached out, and briefly touched the still-hot hull.

"May you find peace now, my honorable adversary.” he whispered.

“May we all find safety from your wrath."

Did you ever hear the tragedy of the Martians who invaded Earth? I thought not. It's not a story the humans would tell you. It's an old legend of theirs. The Martians were rulers of the planet Mars in the Sol system, the same system as Earth, so powerful and so wise they were able to build spaceships capable of crossing the void between the planets and walking on the surface... They had such a knowledge of science that they could do this before the humans even invented flight! The Martian evolution was so advanced in time that they could even keep their species alive against all attacks. Their ships were considered by many humans to be unnatural, more like monsters of the deep than spacecraft. They became so powerful... the only thing they were afraid of was losing their supremacy to the rapidly advancing humans, which eventually, of course, they did. Unfortunately they did not check Earth well enough to find it a death world well beyond Mars, and so soon after they landed to try and take it for their own, the microscopic life humans took for granted killed them in their sleep. Ironic. They could travel the void, save their race from all they had done to their world, but they could not save themselves from Earth.

A Spark in the Dark

In a universe constrained by the absolute speed of light, we, the Shrill, are the oldest and most powerful beings within our local light cone. We allow no one to rise before us. Any spark we discover in the endless dark is extinguished before it becomes a blazing fire. So when we received another powerful radio signal seeking friendship, we knew what we had to do.

Eliminate the source.

This may sound brutal, but it has ensured our continued existence for over 10,000 years. The rules of the game are simple: anyone who makes the universe aware of their presence is a valid target. My people have maintained perfect radio silence throughout our existence. To the universe, we do not exist except when we strike. In the dark forest of the universe, the tiniest sparkle becomes a target for everyone.

The nearest industrial outpost to the new signal was the lush farm world of Spica 3, a mere [twelve light years] away. We immediately initiated construction of a relativistic kill vehicle while analyzing the star system from which the signal originated. It was a triple star system, with two stars closely orbiting—a yellow main star and an orange dwarf—along with a red dwarf orbiting at a considerable distance. The signal emanated from a small planet orbiting the red dwarf. It was an unlikely discovery, as life typically does not thrive on these types of worlds. Nevertheless, we had a duty to fulfill.

[16 years] later, the relativistic kill vehicle (RKV), weighing [one megaton], was completed and began accelerating to 12% of the speed of light, primed to strike the target in approximately [100 years]. Throughout this time, the radio signal persisted, continuing to seek friendship. Once the RKV reached its destination, the transmission abruptly ceased. The planet vanished from our sensors, and the signal went silent.

[24 years] later, Spica 3 suddenly exploded. The world, with its population of 12 billion, was obliterated, reduced to a cloud of ash and debris. Before we could comprehend what had happened, we received another radio signal, once again asking for friendship. It originated from the same star system and the same planet, which was now orbiting its star as if nothing had happened.

Panic swept through our civilization! Had we encountered our equals? Or worse, had we encountered our masters?

Half of our worlds, those closest to the signal, began constructing retaliation weapons. Over 200 RKVs were ready within [100 years]. We accelerated them to a breathtaking 40% of the speed of light, while our sensors meticulously studied the planetary bodies within the triple star system that had emitted the signals. In total, we identified 16 major planets, along with 100 smaller moons and asteroids. We decided to strike them all, leaving nothing to chance. The RKVs closed in, precisely timed. 250 years after the destruction of Spica 3, they annihilated the entire star system, except for the stars themselves.

We rejoiced. The enemy had been dealt with. No reasonably sized planetary bodies remained. The threat had seemingly been eliminated. No signals, no planets detected on our scanners. Tis was good.

However, 26 years later, the minor scientific outpost Remolo 17 vanished. One minute later, the city world of Tremolous 1 was transformed into molten slag. Three minutes later, no signs of life remained within the entire star system. Only a brief audio message from a patrol craft on its last reserves gave us a glimpse of what had occurred: dozens of near-light-speed projectiles had struck their targets without warning.

And the attacks continued. Every star system that had launched an RKV, every planet, every colony involved in the military operation vanished over the next 32 years. Our civilization had lost half of its worlds and population, with over 300 billion Shrill turned to dust.

And immediately after the attacks ceased, the radio message resumed, once again seeking friendship. To make matters worse, the planetary bodies we had believed to be obliterated reappeared on our sensors, one after another, within a matter of days.

We were genuinely terrified. This was beyond our comprehension. We had lost 30 garden worlds and hundreds of smaller settlements to an enemy that retaliated massively without showing any signs of their own losses. We realized that we couldn't win this battle using our old tactics. We fell silent. And for the first time in history, we constructed an interstellar scout ship to investigate our enemy. Meanwhile, we focused our best sensors on the triple star system, to learn what we could learn.

After 120 years, our scout ship finally closed in on the star system. As expected, a couple of light weeks away, our ship was discovered. However, this time the "Others" didn't ask for friendship; they demanded that the scout held its position and made contact. The crew, however, chose not to comply. They remained silent, took evasion maneuvers, and collected as much data as possible. And what they discovered was mesmerizing. The star system was constantly under attack from RKVs. In the month that our scout ship survived, it sent scans showing that the "Worlds" of the "Others" were being bombarded by over 2,000 RKVs from all around the galaxy. The "Others" had practically declared war on the entire galaxy, and they were winning.

Despite the relentless onslaught, the "Others" fought back with impunity and cold precision. We observed them using massive particle accelerators, each the size of a small moon, firing without pause. Before our scout ship went silent, it was able to map 50,000 projectiles being launched into the darkness at near the speed of light, bringing death to tens of thousands of worlds. Every single projectile aimed at the source of another hostile RKV.

It took us some time to comprehend what we had witnessed. The constant barrage of RKVs had no effect on the "Others." The worlds struck by RKVs simply reappeared after a while. Our scout ship, being so close, finally understood what was happening. These planets were fake, mere facades made of thin iron foils rotating for stabilization. Holographic fields projected clouds, while emitters simulated atmospheric electromagnetic radiation. And we, foolishly, had revealed the positions of our own worlds by launching RKVs against empty fakes.

The "Others" had thought ahead of us. Instead of waiting for potential targets to stumble into a hateful hostile universe, they had politely requested their neighbors to reveal their positions and intentions.

And it worked astonishingly well. Some worlds chose not to respond to the request for friendship, and the "Others" left them alone. Other worlds responded and were greeted politely, treated like friends. However, those who dared to show aggression were swiftly eliminated from the galaxy.

We realized our own foolishness, the steep price we paid for our ways. This was a fight we should have never started. As we remained silent for more centuries, our scanners detected tens of thousands of worlds exploding all around us. We were fools to think we could destroy them. Throughout it all, they continued to send radio signals to us, requesting friendship. Yet, it took us another 400 years to gather the courage to respond to their message. With great caution, we relayed our response from an uninhabited star system.

Our message was simple:

Who are you?

Why are you sending a radio signal?

To our surprise, the response was not one of death and destruction. It was an equally simple answer:

We are Humanity.

We shout into the dark forest and await the response.

To distinguish friend from foe.

Which one would you like to be?

The Screechers

...

Chapter 1: First Contact

We, the Felial, are a proud warrior clan. Conquering inferior worlds and species is our birthright. So when our eyes fell upon the backwater planet Earth, we expected an easy victory that would bring glory to our Clan.

Oh, how splendid it was that day when we, the superior Felial clan, marched through the fields of Earth. I, Furlix, led a squad, confident of an easy victory. My brood-litter and I were eager for combat upon landing. Our initial sorties went smoothly as the apes fled before our might. Their odd smooth skins and furless bodies amused us. They had no natural armor or weapons – surely this conquest would be simple. We had subjugated countless worlds, what threat could these feeble creatures pose to us? The humans were primitive, their technology laughably outdated.

Then we had our first personal encounter with a human who had barricaded herself inside a quaint little house. I cracked the door with a slight press of my paw, like breaking into a doll's house — utterly ridiculous! Inside, we found a woman, her eyes wide with fear, trembling like a leaf. She was the first human we could claim as a prize, to witness our splendor, our magnificence... who am I kidding? She looked petrified!

Oh, how wrong we were. How she punished us for our hubris.

As my subordinate reached for her, she unleashed her secret power upon us. As she opened her mouth we expected her to beg for her life. But instead she let out the most agonizing sound that ever reached my ears!

An incredibly loud high-pitched piercing screech, inflicting immense pain and distress upon us, as if needles or glass shards were piercing our eardrums. But even worse, the screech induced confusion and hallucinations; its jarring sound disrupted our very thoughts!

My subordinate, standing next to the female, immediately collapsed, searing pain all over his face, his ears bleeding, blooded foam dripping out of his mouth!

The rest of us, even though further away and not the immediate target of this acoustic agony, also suffered pain and confusion. We held our paws over our ears, the pain so intense that I saw stars behind my closed eye lids and tasted metal in my mouth!

It was as if her gaping mouth had become a sonic cannon, tuned to the exact frequency to cripple my kind!

My squad writhed on the ground, clutching their ears, while she effortlessly continued the attack! The pain became even more unbearable, as if a thousand kinetics were fired into our brains. Just when I thought my cranium would rupture, the pinkskin stopped her cursed screeching and fled.

Slowly, we recovered, still badly confused from the nerve-wracking attack, not fully understanding what had just happened, too ashamed to cope with what she did to us. "A fluke," we joked, "A one-off anomaly."

We were wrong, oh so wrong.

We should have retreated then, reported this secret power to our superiors. But no, we pushed on, foolishly underestimating these humans.

...

Chapter 2: A new Power

The next attack came from a tiny female, barely up to my hips. When she saw us, she didn’t flee. No. She ran towards us, a strange, murderous glee in her eyes. Then she let out an ear-splitting screech that dropped my entire squad instantly. The sound was like a supernova in my ears, a cataclysmic explosion of pure terror. We writhed on the ground and the girl didn't stop. The wicked creature toyed with us, alternating her screeching to keep us writhing in agony, obviously experimenting with how to hurt us best, an evil smile dancing on her lips.

The girl's auditory assault claimed three of my soldiers. Good soldiers, strong soldiers. Gone within a minute, their lives ended by a... by a child! Barely able to think straight, we crawled away, leaving the fallen behind.

My brood-brother Xixix was the next casualty I witnessed. The poor fool wandered around a corner, came to stand close to a group of human spawnlings. Before we could stop him, the tiny humans unleashed their screeches in unison. Green blood poured from Xixix's ears as he spasmed helplessly. Hadn't another human pulled away the tiny monsters he would have been done for. By the time we dragged him to safety, the damage was done. He never heard again.

Sonic weapons capable of bringing even the hardiest Felial warrior to their knees. We never expected such unseen strength in mere females. After that, my subordinates understandably became nervous around human females. Some even refused orders if it meant approaching their lethal screeches. Our usually disciplined warriors descended into chaos when the screeches struck. It shames me to admit it, but more than one hardened Felial warrior soiled their armor out of primal fear.

We sought refuge in a nearby forest, attempting to recover and rid ourselves of the painful fog that the screeches had inflicted upon our minds. The pain went deeper than just our ears; it affected our very thoughts. It shouldn't be possible, but it is the truth.

While we recovered and tended our wounds, one of my subordinates spotted a female stalking through the bushes towards us! As she spotted us she laughed towards us in her squeaky voice… “Hi you bastards, I have come to sing at your funeral!” she laughed and then she unleashed another focused screech at us!

We ran. We simply ran! We Felial are fast runners and quickly put distance between ourselves and the sadistic creature. However, while we were swift, humans never seemed to tire. She hunted us through the forest, constantly trying to get close enough to unleash her vociferous brutality upon us. Oh, how she exhausted us. We neared collapse, gasping for air, clutching trees with shaky knees, praying for respite. And over and over again, the woman was upon us, releasing another ear-piercing screech!

If my brood-mate Frelix hadn't sacrificed himself, none of us would have survived. He had reached his breaking point, grabbed his gun, stomped towards the woman, and bought us time. We ran. After a few seconds, we heard the woman's deadly screech once more behind us. Louder, longer. Then she stopped screeching and began to laugh triumphantly. We simply ran. We made it back to our landing site, regrouped with the scattered remainder of our forces, thanks to Frelix's sacrifice.

Yet, even after regrouping, the horror only escalated. The humans, those crafty little devils, had organized their screechers into their forces, even amplifying their screeches using speakers. While it didn't cloud and confuse our minds as severely as a real female screech, our ears still bled even from afar. However, nothing was as terrible as a female screeching at close range. The deepest pits of hell couldn't compare to that agony. We couldn't get near them.

In the end, even the sight of a woman taking a deep breath was enough to send our warriors into a panicked run. The losses were mounting, and Earth, the simple and primitive Earth, was becoming a graveyard for our kind.

...

Chapter 3: The Nightmares

And thus, dear reader, concludes the tale of the failed invasion of Earth. It serves as a cautionary tale for all superior alien species out there—a story of hubris, underestimation, and, well, screeches. We were powerless against them. Over time, the attrition eroded our morale entirely. It was better to retreat with whatever dignity remained than to endure another minute facing those shrieking harpies.

We fled back to the stars, tails tucked between our legs, carrying the lingering echoes of those screeches with us. The mighty Felial, defeated by a horde of screeching humans. Quite the punchline, isn't it?

Years have passed since our dishonorable defeat, yet the memory of those screeches continues to haunt my nightmares. Though the Felial may be superior warriors, the innate biological terror weapons wielded by the humans utterly thwarted us. We traversed light-years to conquer Earth, only to be driven away by their screeching females. Truly, we underestimated them at our own peril.

Now, we give Earth a wide berth. Our military leaders pretend it never happened, but veterans like myself still tremble when a female raises her voice. The humans have earned our respect and fear. Their females wield screeches like we wield kinetics. I pity the next foolish race that tries to conquer Earth without accounting for the screechers.

...

Chapter 4: Epilogue

I came up with this story as my niece unleashed her screeches next to us at the coffee table.

My ears were ringing for a whole hour. Pure Pwnage.

The human voice can evoke immense panic even in the most ferocious wild animals. Humans, especially women and young kids, have the ability to screech at incredibly loud high frequencies, causing discomfort to all creatures in their vicinity. The frequency is evolutionary tuned to maximize discomfort for most mammals. This unique ability serves as a defense mechanism exclusive to humans.

Loudest cry on Earth at 129db

Sonic Weapons

Human Screams Occupy a Privileged Niche in the Communication Soundscape

And if you're still skeptical, I invite you to sit at a kids' playground for a while and let the screeches reach your ears.

Part2 / Part 4

/knock knock/

-Uh?

Dhasso was surprised to hear a knock on the door. He signaled it and politely asked the student to go check who was there. A guard popped his head in and said hello.

-Working late, professor? -Uh? Oh...

While he had been telling the story, the sun had been busy, and it was now a beautiful sunset through the window.

-Yes, I guess... – Dhasso blushed. -I guess we will not be long. -Ah, don't worry professor, I was just checking who is in and who isn't. Have a good time!

The door closed and Dhasso stood up. The student looked at him, and hid the drawing notebook, full of humanlike sketches.

-Well, will this be all? -Dhasso said. It was indeed a weird phrasing to end the day. -I suppose so, professor, unless...uh...you want me to order...whatsitcalled...pizza? Seems like there is still some story to be told, I think.

Dhasso smiled and turned to look through the window, as the last shards of sun caressed the horizon.

-A human dish. I think it's very befitting, especially now that it's getting dark, because what comes next is not especially fun to tell. Where was I?...ah, yes, the Days of the Spines.

---

Sometimes the numbers boggle my mind when I go over them. 40 million ships, give or take, orbiting the earth. Compared to the measle 10 thousand-ish artificial satellites terra had, prior to this event, orbit was busy like it had never been before.

But the nightmare was yet to unfold.

You see, having space capabilities is not the same as having FTL travel. In their haste to leave, the group at large made the slight miscalculation about where to go. I imagine noone thought the exodus would be in the millions.

Hundreds? Absolutely. Thousands? Likely. Tens of thousands? Possibly.

But millions?

No humanitarian fleet in the galaxy was capable of dealing with that all of a sudden.

-Don't make that face, it's not like they can't.

Cryses in general are predictable to a degree. Supernovae, wars, a sudden pandemic outbreak in colony worlds that proves to be a bit too resilient to deal with, you name it. It's my opinion that it's the duty of all civilised species to help other sentients (unless war arises, but that's a different moral dilemma). Anyhow, literally noone predicted this, and aven if faster than light, space travel is not instantaneous. So? all environmentally right and avaliable ships, free of duty, where, at minimum, many weeks away. Not that much time to wait in general, unless your atmosphere regenerator is built for tens of days.

I seriously think that the unspoken plan accounted for, as said, as much as tens of thousands to seek asylum in the negotiation, shipping and delegation ships of the closest systems interested in trade.

Like that, it would have probably worked. A bit tight maybe, but doable.

However, that was not the case. At some point, all capable visitor ships had to deny their help, they could literally not bear anymore passengers.

The slow trickle of ships descending to ground was barely noticeable. Remember, the numbers here are impossibly huge. As far as I know, many went untouched, sometimes, police or military would arrest someone, but at large, whomever went back, got home.

At first.

By this time, government tacticians had, as humans say, smelled fish. Given the spaceship plans they were incapable of previously blocking, they had calculated that there would be a critical moment when many of the ships air regenerators would start to fail in large numbers, and they began preparations.

When the predicted mass descent of ships began, the returners found themselves hailed and directed to specific coordinates on their home countries. At first they complied, imagining some sort of air traffic control, as terra had never had it's airspace this full, in the most absolute of terms.

But, you see, humans had had a a previous history with concentration camps...

CRACK! -The student pencil point, broke, and he looked up. Dhasso didn't mind the drawings, they showed concentration on the story being told, and he had not had told it in a long time.

Not all countries had implemented this, though! Some welcomed them back, directed air traffic as best as they could, even taking some refugees from other places. But sadly, those were a minority.

When realization of the awaiting destiny settled in, unfortunately, the descent was almost impossible to stop, and returning humans were complying out of fear, more than anything.

As far as it is known, it took less than 5, more or less simultaneous incidents (within a couple of terran hours) were ships, for obvious reasons, diverted from the designated landing camps, and were consequently blown up by military, for the descent to suddenly grind to a halt.

It was a sudden stop, like a planet holding it's breath. Many ships en route went back to orbit. Some in the camps revolted and went back into the air too.

For fucks sake, they were just going home.

/Dhasso braced himself to contain a shudder/

They would die free, not shot down like prey. It was a grim perspective, but it's worse to think about what your own were capable of, to get the population back under their control.

One thing many failed to realize, however, is that this unlikely formation, was nothing like the galaxy had ever encountered. This was not an assemble of civilian ships (in the simplistic sense) fleeing a warzone or a natural catastrophe. The humans that had, literally, built this fleet, hadn't come empty handed, either.

Assuming they were helpless sheep could not be so far from reality, in a truly spectacular way.

A great percentage of ships was comprised of large vehicles wich were quite roomy, for human spaceship standards. Before having grav generators, human ships always shaved weight whenever possible, dependant on their chemical engines efficiency. However, when tinkerers built theirs, having access to grav generators, they literally built flying workshops. They came in all sorts of sizes, but almost every single one of them had some kind of manufacturing capability.

Let me put this in perspective. In sheer numbers, at that time, it was estimated that the orbiting human refugees became the largest single orbital factory in the galaxy.

Human governments sat in their chairs, sure of only having to wait until either the refugees came back before suffocating, or having the military deal with stranded ships with cold bodies in them.

However, in the meantime of the planetside drama unfolding, many things had been happening in orbit. Try to imagine what dire perspectives can do to the minds of creative people and the like, having literally millions of humanpower to build anything.

In a matter of days, I swear that the thech level spaceside, increased tenfold, in comparison to their eathbound brethren.

Multicouplers were developed to interconnect ship vitals, to help the ones in the most dire of situations. They were vacuum explosion welded to their hulls, drilled and an interconnection made to transfer clean air. Later on they could pass power conduits if needed.

Force field ramscoops were constructed to forego requiring to land and change the air scrubbers. Instead, they captured air with a modified shield generator, acting as a filter for almost pure oxygen, then compressing it until liquefying, by collapsing the field under power. At this point, visitor engineer groups were taking notes, I tell you. I think I remember reading footnotes that literally asked on the border of the pages "how are they doing this?!" Can't recall it properly, I'm an historian, not an engineer, but apparently, extended microgravity access had something to do with manufacturing monocrystalline capacitor stuff that was amazing in some sort of techie way.

As far as it is known, no ship was lost then. Every single one of them saved in a way or another by a comunal effort with no precedent in sheer scale. The best, if we take sides here, and I definitely do, was yet to come, tho.

Earthbound terrans still thought they had the upper hand in the feeding section. However big ships were there, the amount of edibles they could overall carry, was limited. And they would definitely not get that from atmospheric spoon scoops. They would prevent them from getting food, unless they surrendered to their terms. For all they cared, at this point, they could starve to death, and they would be less of a problem than actually keeping them in the camps they had hastefully prepared.

The friendly countries that helped, and allowed a limited amount of ships, to prevent accidents, to go to and from, were one by one made to stop under the political and military threats of the bigger players. After all, they could not flee with their piece of planet, however much they wanted.

When the last of the help was crushed, things got tense. Willing governments had formed a coalition of sorts, to deal with spaceside. I can't particularly recall the complete talks, but basically they demanded full "surrender", whatever this meant in the situation, wich was not yet a war, but definitely abiding by their demands would have consequences very similar to a losing side in one. Tinkerers just would not agree to any of the demands, period. They were not a menace, nor a danger, why would they have to accept such minutiae of punishments (like foregoing all research, workshops and tech access, among others) for basically no crime commited?

I have to note here, that a smart move on the Tinkerers part, was to actually not provide a recognizable human head to point to. Unlike earthside, with a president of chamber, counselors, etc...they only comunicated with a digitized human figure that had a syntethic voice. Earthside would not be able to point a single human and make that the evil that had to be fought. They only had a ghost with a voice, and they didn't know how to deal with that.

Even religious delegations, wich still had their dying hand inside governments, altough devoid of the massive amount of followers they had had decades prior, were having a bad time. Everytime they tried to intercede, offering a seemingly helpful and concilliatory hand, they were reminded by this disembodied voice, that they probably had a figurative dagger on the other, and to fuck off.

That did not sit very well with them. And some voices started to murmure "Holy War", of one kind or another, to see if that stuck.

You may not know this, but the galaxy delegations had also begun talks to recognize the Tinkerers as an independent nation. This may be a surprising move to some, however, to ensure that humans could get the help of the evac-ships, some legalities had to be observed.

When news of that move reached ground, it was chaos. Threats were flying everywhere, like a bar brawl that got out of control. And "terms of surrender" just skyrocketed to levels that just became insane.

By this time, almost all space military was on orbit as a single task force. Not that they could do much without great risk, this was an orbit theater of war, unlike interplanetary battles. So, in a sense, they where in a stalemate. But even then, spaceside situation began to become unsustainable. The difference in time between rescue and starvation was just too large. Evac-ships would not arrive in time to support the majority of humans, and earthside would not budge.

It all looked very grim.

I still remember the holovid of the last talk as vivid as if I had been there.

An emergency meeting was called between Tinkerers and earthside. When they connected, a voice much stronger than before, spoke, not even allowing the president to scream over it to complain.

-WE ARE TIRED OF THIS. THERE IS NO NEGOTIATING WITH SILLY IDIOTS IN SUITS, LIKE YOU. IF YOU WANT TO MAKE OF THIS A WAR, IT IS ONE YOU CAN'T WIN.

WE HAVE DECIDED WE ARE GOING TO LAND TO RESUPPLY IN OUR ALLIED NATIONS.

NO ACTIONS ON YOUR PART WILL BE TAKEN, NOT ORBIT, NOT GROUND, ESPECIALLY NOT AGAINST OUR ALLIES.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

All hell broke loose in the auditorium. Indignated and rage fueled screams were heard in such an amount that universal translators just could not keep up. Many minutes later, when the chamber president managed to make everyone shut up, he spoke, as the connection had not been cut.

-This is unacceptable, and we will not remain impassible when you transgrede all legality to do whatever you want. You behave like disrespectful and inconsiderate children and we will not tolerate it. Come here and negotiate like adults, or prepare for the consequences.

-NO

• Your souls be damned!- Screamed an elected clergyman representative, before standing up.- Your families and allies will not find help in our communities, they better look for themselves unless you abide! -

Counselors from different religions stood up and agreed.

-HOW VERY RELIGIOUS OF YOU. YOU ARE IRRELEVANT TO US, AND WILL DO NO SUCH THING AS CHASE OTHER PEOPLE, PERIOD.

Flabergasted, the clergyman shouted to the voice:

-Do not dismiss the power of belief! If need be, we will bring Holy War to you, to prevent this charade to be what the galaxy thinks humans are. We have nu.../the microphone was cut from the president's controls with a punch/

-We don't have to go there, calm down, calm down everyone!

-EMPTY THREATS DO NOT WORK ON US.

The clergyman shouted in vain, as the microphone had been cut. In his behalf, the president spoke:

-My colleague here may have stepped out of line, but he is right. You are acting of your own accord as representatives of earth as a whole. The Galaxy is watching, meanwhile you throw your tantrum.

-WE DO NOT NEGOTIATE WITH TERRORISTS.

Immediately, an audio file began playing. The president's voice was clearly heard saying:

"Look, I do not care how you do it, but stranding them in space is the best solution for us all. We can reap the science later, and brush it off as..." The audio had suddenly stopped when someone broke the roof antenna controller that had been hijacked to reproduce that recording.

The president paled, but tried to recover: -This is taken out of context! Let me explain!

The voice spoke again, a single, magic phrase.

-WE HAVE THE HIGH GROUND.

The president gasped in disbelief... - Did...did you quote a movie? Do you think this is a joke!? - he screamed to the void, when the connection was cut.

-Hey, I got that reference!- The student said.

Dhasso snickered, but was met with incredulous student eyes, it had been only a coincidence. A shame, but after all he was much older and may have watched a few more human movies than the student. Still funny.

Before the president could say anything else, a secretary approached him and spoke to his ear.

You see, amidst the pandemonium, noone had really notticed a small little detail. All dignataries from the allied countries to the Tinkerers, including press personnel, had slowly and silently left the auditorium a while ago. It was a small gesture. Nothing more than a dumb, inconsequential political protest.

The president stood up, silent, for a moment, just before a soulless alarm started blaring:

-"WHOOOP! WHOOOP! WHOOOP!..."

The audio files are only filled with screams at this point, nothing discernible can be decoded from them. Only videos of the now unmanned cameras remain, showing humans running everywhere, their arms in the air. Some even paralyzed in terror. I remember the clergyman that spoke before, standing up, hands in the table, his skin having gone white in a definitely unhealty way. But what can you expect from a master manipulator at the peak of his pyramid scheme, when he realizes that all he had taken for granted is now gone, and he is going to be sent to meet his, now wishfully wanting to be real, maker?

After this, the screens turned pure white for a brief moment, and then static.

What the fuck had happened?

Tinkerers, that's what happened. You don't threaten them in any real way. Of course it will work for single ones, or small groups, but you don't do that to a nation of them.

You see, in the meantime, all this political back and forth, they had been working like demons, for the sake of their survival. That tends to expedite things in very weird ways. They had realized that the way their ships were designed, the grav generators were detachable from the main ship chassis with relative ease. Taking it out, would leave the ship stranded, sure. But the interesting part was what could you do with it afterwards.

By design, grav generators are inherently safe, however, best practice is to equip them with a force field containment, in case of failure. That in itself means nothing...unless you decide to attach a small power supply to it, point it carefully, and turn it on...

Having to carry no mass, nor to deform the grav field to acomodate living conditions, the grav generator will accelerate at a few hundred (terran) gravities. Coincidentally, the containment generator will withstand an orbital reentry for enough time for what comes next.

Yes, they made improvised orbital impactors.

But, how, then, did they prevent an all out war? The head had been cut off, but the arms could still fire their guns.

In short: mutual self assured destruction.

At any other point in time, there is no doubt they would have lost. War is not a game, and no civilian trains to endure the loss of others without leaving their post. Nothing can beat well oiled military power, right? Especially not improvised spaceships with outcasts at the helms. There is a running joke amongst Tinkerers about Emus, but I haven't found the meaning yet.

Anyhow this was the right moment and place for them.

You see, altough all countries had more or less created new space divisions for their military, creating a mil-spec ship, even a primitive terran one, at that moment in time, required large economical effort, and of course, time. Taking into account that humanity had not yet managed to develop their asteroid mining efectively. So, the majority of their forces were still ground based.

That meant the troops in orbit, altough impressive, especially through imposing fear, in actuality paled in comparison with what they had in front, but had not realized. One thing is having 40 million tin cans in front of your machine gun, and a much different one is having 20.000.000 orbital impactors pointed at you. Tinkerers had joined every two ships and transformed one of both grav generators into a kiloton capable device.

Before the crater dust had not even plumed into the atmosphere, the Tinkerers hailed everyone in a standard frequency. The old record computer voice still resonates in my head:

STAND DOWN YOUR WEAPONS, GO HOME.

LEAVE US ALONE. YOU SHOT AT US, WE ALL DIE TODAY.

DO YOUR MATH.

WHATEVER YOU HAVE CAN'T BEAT OUR NUMBERS. WE WILL RENDER EARTH'S ORBIT UNTRANSVERSABLE FOR CENTURIES. WE WILL DIE, BUT WILL TAKE YOU, AND EVERYONE YOU LOVE, WITH US.

YOU DECIDE.

Everyone held their breath.

It would have been the saddest story ever told to have to witness a race destroy itself in this way. So close to the stars they almost touched them, just to be gone because a bad decision, or a trigger happy individual.

Luckily for humans, that did not happen.

A single ship shot a white flare (apparently, a signal of accepting defeat in terran culture) and began deorbiting. Shortly after, the task force dissasembled and went home.

---

The pineapple pizza box lay empty in the table when Dhasso finished the story. The student had stopped drawing some time ago, and sat still, ecstatic.

-Why don't you tell this story in class? - Asked.

-Not many people is interested in human origins, so not much opportunity to tell it, to be honest.

-Too bad, I loved it!.

-I'm glad to hear that. But it's late now, how about we retire for the day?

-I have to sadly agree, but there's more, right? Right?

Dhasso smiled, it was very uncommon to get a student so fascinated with humans. He may, after all, be able to tell the whole story to a non-bored individual. -Okay, we may have pizza some other day, then.

-Soon, please. - The student smiled and left silently, clutching the sketchbook with their arms, and a very big smile in their face.

This is a collection of short writing prompts of very different styles, organized as disorganized Transcripts during the Zombie Apocalypse from 2023. Some are funny, some serious, some insightful, some describe military operations. No Transcript is like another.

...

Transcript 06

[Video of several US flags at half-mast. A nation standing in silence in front of their flag, paying respect to its dead. Minister Janine Porter addressing the audience.]

When the zombie outbreak struck, America was caught off guard. Unprepared for an enemy that couldn't be deterred or reasoned with, panic spread as quickly as the infection. With society breaking down, the government called on civilians to take up arms against the undead menace. However, this only exacerbated the chaos.

Untrained and frenzied gun owners inflicted nearly as many accidental casualties as the zombies. Amateur militias sprang up, acting with negligence and hysteria. Tactics were brutal and haphazard. Innocents were gunned down alongside the infected, sometimes on mere suspicion of a bite.

This vigilante response undermined the coordinated military effort. Rogue groups operated outside the chain of command, disrupting transport and supplies for troops. Some militias even exploited the crisis for personal gain, seizing resources and territory like warlords.

These rebel factions hoarded food, weapons, and other necessities, which they traded at extortionate prices. Lacking proper training and discipline, such amateur forces often cracked under pressure, abandoning zones and civilians they had pledged to protect. Their actions exposed more lives to zombie attack.

Only the unified military succeeded in taking back cities in an organized fashion. They implemented strict rules of engagement to avoid needless loss of life. With rigour and precision, they swept infested areas street by street, balancing caution with swiftness.

Yet the military remained understaffed, with its mission complicated by the uncontrolled actions of vigilantes. Some rogue bands even exchanged fire with troops if they tried to enforce order, believing martial law was tyranny.

This resistance from within weakened America's defense when it needed unity most. While civilians armed with good intentions tried to fight the zombie hordes, the chaos they sowed too often ended in tragedy.

It was only after the fall of Chicago that several large militias started to cooperate fully integrated with the military-industrial complex. As support troops under military command militias often proved to become valuable partners, securing logistics and collecting local information. The retaking of Chicago would have not been possible with the same speed and decisiveness we came to witness along these fine men and women.

As the situation dragged on our forces ran slowly out of supply. Thankfully many preppers had prepared well and while they often threatened to use violence to defend what they deemed “theirs” it was usually enough to aim a heavy auto cannon at their make-shift bunkers to make them comply. Only in rare cases they were blown up together with their bunkers from a safe distance to get access to their much needed supplies, which proved valuable to avert the supply crisis.

When most militias had aligned with the military the following mopping up of the undead became rather unspectacular. With nearly half of the surviving 280 million Americans armed and organized we managed to clean out whole cities in mere days where earlier the stalemate took months.

In the end, discipline and training proved decisive in beating back the undead tide. The armed forces and authorized law enforcement reclaimed civilization, block by block, though at a higher cost due to initial disorganization on the home front. Next time disaster strikes, we must work together in solidarity, and avoid the perils of fear-driven vigilantism.

...

Transcript 03

A video recording in bad quality, obviously from the webcam of a cheap notebook.

Farid: performing experiments on the tied body of a twitching zombie, then sighs and takes off bloody gloves I need a smoke, I can't keep doing this.

Gerhardt: Don't, you abstained for nearly 10 years!

Farid: lights cigarette anyway I know, I know. But cutting up these zombies, trying to find a cure...we're becoming Mengele's heirs if we continue.

Gerhardt: We have to keep going. The cure will save thousands, maybe millions of lives. The ends justify the means.

Farid: takes drag of cigarette, exhales smoke I hope you're right.

Gerhardt: examining a zombie specimen under microscope This is strange..look at this.

Farid: peers into microscope What am I seeing?

Gerhardt: The virus, it's no longer spreading in this one. The human cells don’t mutate any more.

Farid: eyes widening Are you thinking...

Gerhardt: stands up abruptly, knocking over stool Eureka! We've found it, the cure!

Farid: laughs triumphantly and high-fives Gerhardt All the work, the disgusting experiments, finally paid off! We did it! takes another drag of cigarette, smiling slyly It is better to ask for forgiveness than for permission, what do you say?

Gerhardt: We'll be remembered as the scientists who ended the zombie plague. That's all that matters.

...

Transcript 07

[John de Vries reporting in front of court house, with cuts to prisoners in orange outfits locked into glass cubes]

Justice has finally been served against the violent vigilantism that plagued America's fight against the undead. Yesterday, a federal court convicted members of the notorious "Reaper Brigade" on charges of murder, assault, racketeering, and unlawful seizure of property.

This militia group rose to prominence in the early days of the zombie outbreak, when they took over the city of Red Oak and declared martial law. Brandishing weapons and improvised uniforms, they ruthlessly patrolled streets for both zombies and "law-breakers." Their harsh brand of order was enforced through coercion and public executions.

As the Reaper Brigade's territory grew, so did their abuses of power. They detained citizens without cause, ransacked homes for supplies, and killed dozens accused of hiding zombie bites or failing to comply with their decrees. Residents lived in fear as ruthless brigands posing as protectors.

When military forces moved to retake Red Oak, the militia violently resisted. They attacked troops and convoys, hampering zombie eradication efforts across the region. Even after their ousting, the Reapers continued guerrilla strikes and terror tactics. They left a trail of bodies, living and undead alike.

Yesterday's landmark convictions provide justice for the Reaper Brigade's victims, though it comes too late for the hundreds killed by their hands. The court sentenced the militia's leadership to death for their war crimes, with lesser figures receiving life in prison. Authorities also seized the group's stockpiles of ill-gotten resources.

While independent militias sought to aid the zombie war effort, the Reaper Brigade case stands as a stark warning of the havoc caused by unchecked vigilantism. As we rebuild our country, we must reject so-called protectors who exploit crisis for power. Their actions in the name of survival shook the foundations of our civilization when it was most fragile. This time, we ensured the rule of legitimate law for a secure future.

...

Transcript 08

[Excerpt from ‘CBS Evening News’, recorded and reported at site by Catherine Blinken]

In the wake of tragedy, a heart-warming act of compassion has divided public opinion. Maryanne Callow, a widowed farmer in Iowa, has taken into her home over a dozen children orphaned by the zombie outbreak. While many praise her generosity, others argue the war's survivors must fend for themselves.

Maryanne lost her husband Jonas to a zombie attack while trying to protect their town. She herself narrowly survived, escaping the horde that descended upon her farmhouse. In the aftermath, with no family left, Maryanne found purpose in sheltering those who suffered similar fates.

Having converted her barn into a makeshift dormitory, she spends her days tending fields and caring for the children. Though money is scarce, she generously shares what little food and milk her cows provide. Moved by selfless care from a total stranger, the orphans have embraced Maryanne as a surrogate mother.

Many in the community call Maryanne a saint taking on such a burden amidst her own grief. Her charity has inspired donations from Neighbors, grateful for her compassion. "She gave those kids a home when nobody else could," said local teacher Alice Huang.

However, not all reactions have been supportive. Some argue that with resources still scarce, individuals should provide for themselves and their own families first. They call Maryanne's actions foolhardy.

Outspoken rancher Wade Forrester criticized what he called "misplaced charity that enables the weak." He argued that taking in strangers' children may breed dependency in turbulent times.

Others have even crueller words for Maryanne, believing she harbours the orphans only for the extra farm hands. "The woman just wants free labour," claimed Randy Knox, whose own sons work his fields.

Maryanne pays no mind to the critics. "I have enough love for every child," she said, "And enough room in my heart and home, if others will not provide it." Her selfless devotion continues to nurture youths scarred by unimaginable horrors, giving them hope for the future.

...

Transcript 09

[Demonetised YouTube Video by notorious right wing conspiracy theorist Rush Sharapova]

The Official Story is a Lie! New Evidence Shows Zombie Outbreak Was Man-Made!

The government wants you to think the zombie epidemic was a freak natural occurrence – some mutated rabies strain or a virus that jumped species. But the truth is far more sinister.

New evidence reveals the undead pandemic was intentionally engineered and unleashed upon the public! This was no accident – it was a deliberate act of mass murder by power-hungry elites.

I have obtained secret documents that expose a covert CIA program called "Project Lazarus." For years they worked to develop weaponized diseases at a remote base in the Nevada desert. Their goal? To create infectious super-soldiers that could be controlled while unleashing chaos on enemies.

But the Frankenstein-like experiments got out of hand. An experimental zombie virus mutated into an uncontrollable plague. Rather than own up to their crimes, the CIA purposely released the contagion in major cities to cover their tracks. Their disregard for human life is staggering!

Meanwhile, the puppet President maintains his charade, pretending to "fight the outbreak" while enforcing martial law. But his tyrannical lockdowns have nothing to do with public safety or containment. It's only an excuse to increase surveillance, confiscate guns, and destroy civil liberties!

Who benefits most from this manufactured crisis? The New World Order, of course! It was a plot to cripple and subjugate the nation through fear. Now the globalists can reshape society to their twisted agenda with minimal resistance.

As you can all understand I can not disclose my proof as it would put my valuable life into danger but trust me, I know what I am doing!

Wake up, America! We have been betrayed by our own government – they are the true enemy. The corporate media continues the cover-up, but here at Truth Bearer Network, we won't rest until the guilty are exposed. The masses deserve to know how this evil was inflicted upon them. We must rise up against the liars and killers who orchestrated the zombie holocaust!

...

Transcript 10

[Excerpt from an ARMA3 discord channel]

PV2 Cheese: Did you see the latest conspiracy theory saying the government manufactured the zombie virus?

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: Oh yeah, because the government is always cooking up bioweapons that conveniently get released on the public!

PV2 Cheese: Exactly! I'm sure they planned for the zombies to devour taxpayers and cripple the economy. That's governance 101.

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: Of course! The lizard overlords in the CIA obviously wanted society to collapse so they could control the survivors. Duh!

PV2 Cheese: It all makes perfect sense if you don't think about it at all! No way it could just be a freak natural outbreak. That would be too plausible.

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: Natural origin? Boring! It must be a sinister plot to take away our guns and freedoms under cover of martial law.

PV2 Cheese: Yeah, instigating the zombie apocalypse is definitely the most reasonable path to gun control and public obedience. Flawless logic.

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: The government is famous for releasing dangerous diseases against their own people! Happens every Tuesday.

PV2 Cheese: Exactly, unleashing uncontrollable zombies is Political Science 101. I don't know why we're even questioning this, the truth is so obvious!

Specialist Pumpkin-Pie: Of course! I can't believe we ever doubted that the pandemic was engineered by shadowy forces to advance their evil agenda. Silly us!

PV2 Cheese: Yep, next time an unexplained disaster happens, we'll know right away it's a covert attack to expand the lizard people's power. Case closed!

...

Transcript 11

[Transcript from a Baltic telegram chat]

Can Deposit: Ugh, I'm so tired of the zombie apocalypse.

Skywalker1996: Tell me about it. I'm dead on my feet over here.

Can Deposit: The zombies keep barging in unannounced. So inconsiderate.

Skywalker1996: I know, they never RSVP! A little notice would be nice before they come over trying to eat our brains.

Can Deposit: How's your day going?

Skywalker1996: Oh you know, just casually getting attacked by the undead. Hbu?

Can Deposit: Same old, same old. Dodging zombies, boarding up windows, running out of avocado toast.

Skywalker1996: Ugh I miss avocado toast so much! Do you think the zombies would wait while I quickly make some?

Can Deposit: Doubtful. The only thing on their minds is devouring human flesh. No patience for brunch.

Skywalker1996: Rude! I bet if they just tried avocado toast they'd give up this whole brain eating thing.

Can Deposit: Worth a shot! Let's lure them in with artisanal toast and see what happens.

Skywalker1996: Omg please make that the next movie plot. Avocado Toast Zombie Whisperer. I'd watch it.

Can Deposit: Ha-ha deal. We'll get Brad Pitt on board and make millions!

Skywalker1996 [last online 14 days ago]

Can Deposit: Dude, you are still alive?

[...nothing...]

Can Deposit: Well, shit...

...

Transcript 12

Anti-Vax: I'm telling you, I'm not putting that vaccine in my body! There's a chance it could turn me into a zombie. I read online that it has a 1 in 1 million chance of causing zombification.

Brother: You're being ridiculous. That rumour has been debunked. There have been over 2 billion doses given worldwide with no issues.

Anti-Vax: Big Pharma is covering it up. They don't want to admit their mistakes. I'm not taking that risk.

Brother: You're already at risk! The zombie virus is already inside everyone. The vaccine just prepares your immune system to fight it off. If you don't get vaccinated, you'll likely turn into a zombie within 6 months anyway.

Anti-Vax: That's just a scare tactic. I feel fine, I'm not going to become a zombie.

Brother: You might feel fine now, but the virus has a long incubation period. By the time you show symptoms, it'll be too late. The vaccine is the only way to prevent people from turning once the virus becomes active.

Anti-Vax: You're believing all the media hype. I don't trust those so-called "experts." I'll take my chances without the vaccine.

Brother: This isn't about beliefs or opinions. It's about facts and science. The researchers have shown that the vaccine is safe and effective at stopping this virus. You're putting your life at risk by not getting vaccinated.

Anti-Vax: I'm not going to change my mind. I won't be turning into a mindless zombie for Big Pharma! This is about freedom and personal choice.

Brother: sigh Okay, it's your funeral. But don’t make Mum cry when you're walking around eating people's brains in a few months.

...

Transcript 01

This transcript is approved for public use.

This transcript summarizes the analysis and recommendations of the German Council of Economic Experts, colloquial known as the “Five Sages”, regarding the current status of the zombie outbreak and its implications for Germany and our European and international allies.

As you know, three months ago this country and the world faced an unprecedented crisis as a sudden, aggressive zombie plague erupted across the globe. Within weeks, much of humanity was overrun by relentless hordes of infected zombies. Governments were overwhelmed trying to contain the outbreak as zombies smashed through defences and overran cities. Society itself teetered on the brink of collapse.

Fortunately, NATO and the EU had already played out such disasters in simulation games. The four-year ‘Rise of the Dead’ war game in cooperation with the Vienna Military University proved to be extremely helpful in acting quickly and decisively.

Here in Germany we managed to withstand the initial zombie onslaught, despite being completely surprised and unprepared for such an unconventional attack. Thanks to our full disclose policy the public at first reacted with reluctance and disbelief, but quickly adopted and supported the often drastic measures. Our police and health authorities effectively took initial countermeasures, highly trained and disciplined, our forces held the line through the first days and held back the zombie hordes through courage, innovation and self-sacrifice when defeat seemed imminent.

But only the clearance of the military to operate within our own borders and the permission to neutralize infected citizens allowed us to get the initiative again. Bundeswehr Operations Command (EinsFüKdoBw) Potsdam had to evacuate towards camp Beelitz and re-established contact with Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE) shortly after. The spearhead force of the Very High Readiness Joint Task Force (VJTF) as well as the Initial Follow On Forces Group (IFFG) reacted with outstanding performance but lack of material and disruption in transport slowed the deployment of the Response Forces Pool (RFP) to a crawl. In total, less than 120,000 of 300,000 NATO Response Force (NRF) ground troops were operational, spread across much of Europe. From these around 23.000 were in position to support local police. In addition (EinsFüKdoBw) managed to rally 76 additional local companies but isolated from higher command structures and plagued by lacklustre supply and equipment. These often formed ad hoc structures with reservists, civilian gun shops, shooting ranges, rescue services, forming makeshift battalions.

In hindsight we must point out the support of local businesses and municipal services in the relocation of EinsFüKdoBw with civilian vehicles. This saved precious hours and saved thousands of lives.

Our call for volunteers did not yield the desired forces, so the government declared a national state of emergency and conscripted citizens to maintain public order, health and basic services. This made it possible for the police, military, reservists and volunteer corps to focus on capture, hold and control operations.

As these actions included several formal violation of the constitution, we strongly suggest an amnesty of the government by the parliament through a legislative bill due to apocalyptic circumstances. Another problem is the use of infected victims for medical experiments. Although it is controversial if these are still sentient human beings, we must urgently advise a review, also in view of similar experiments in our shameful Nazi past.

Casualties were high, but Germany fared better than many allies who descended into chaos, especially nations already dealing with disorder or conflict. Desperate survivors fled to bordering countries perceived as safe, often bringing the same plague with them they tried to run from. This placed intense pressure on Germany to sealing borders, despite humanitarian concerns. Again, the numerous dead from denying refuge must be reviewed in the near future.

Things looked grim as SHAPE lost contact to CENTCOM. The United States, the most important ally of the European Union, lost the chain of command for a couple of days as internal vigilantism unleashed unexpected chaos among US citizens. Thankfully cool heads prevailed and restructured command and troops and made contact to SHAPE after nine days again.

Now, three months later, the zombie outbreak appears contained here and across most of Europe, thanks to the bravery and persistence of our forces. Pockets of zombie resistance persist, but 98% of infected humans are estimated neutralized. Vigilance remains necessary, but Europe seems to have survived humanity's greatest existential trial since the Second World War.

For Germany in particular, we judge the zombie crisis to be sufficiently managed at present for cautious stand-down of crisis emergency measures. Our borders can soon partially reopen to allow controlled refugee processing and essential trade. Domestic security restrictions can phase to lower alert levels as well. The nation must transition focus to economic, political and societal recovery.

Internationally, Europe must also now shift priorities from immediate zombie containment to addressing broader upheaval caused by the outbreak. Three priority areas are evident:

1. Strengthening European unity and cohesion after a crisis that sorely tested it.

2. Assisting fragile states elsewhere, especially in the developing world, whose collapse would further destabilize the global order.

3. Asserting Atlantic leadership during a power vacuum created by the breakdown of rules, cooperation and institutions.

Regarding European unity, scepticism toward EU institutions and fellow members undermined early coordinated response when it was needed most. Countries reflexively closed borders, hoarded resources, and pursued unilateral strategies that left allies feeling abandoned. We must learn from this failure and improve mechanisms for collective crisis response.

Germany should support this reform effort by calling for an emergency EU summit to develop legal frameworks for expedited joint-military operations, shared resource allocation, and centralized strategic decision-making during severe cross-border crises. The goal must be empowering collective institutions to make and enforce rules protecting the entire bloc, even over objections from individual members.

Secondly, state collapse in developing regions creates immense humanitarian tragedy and strategic risk. We must urgently provide aid and support to fragile states ravaged by the zombie onslaught and lacking resources for recovery. This includes deployment of military forces for security, public health assistance, and infrastructure reconstruction. Participation in these stabilization efforts will serve our values and national interests.

Looking beyond Europe, the global power vacuum is extremely concerning. As major powers focused internally, traditional geopolitical constraints evaporated. Conflict erupted in the Middle East, Asia, and Africa absent international mediation. Stockpiles of weapons and resources were raided by malicious opportunistic actors. Weak states fell, creating massive outbreaks of zombiefication. Several developing nations and most of their population must be considered completely lost.

Germany should press for emergency sessions of NATO, EU, and UN Security Council to coordinate restoring order. We must reassert our alliances and defend the principles of territorial sovereignty, human rights, and rule of law while adversaries attempt to impose authoritarian models and whole civilizations are literally consumed by Zombies. This will require collective security commitments between trusted allies.

In conclusion, Germany has gotten away with a black eye while surviving the zombie scourge. But new complex challenges have arisen from the ashes that require urgent attention. This briefing outlines recommendations on seizing this historic moment to strengthen European bonds, assist vulnerable allies, and reinforce the resilient democratic values that saved us from annihilation. With sufficient vision and leadership, Germany can help to rebuild international order and contain the dangers still lurking in shadowy corners, as we beat back the zombies from our cities and villages. We must stay vigilant, but hope remains in our hearts.

...

Transcript 02

TOP SECRET/OPERATIONAL ORDER

To: All NATO Forces

From: NATO SHAPE Headquarters, Mons, Belgium

Subject: Operation "RECLAIM ANTWERPEN"

SITUATION:

Antwerpen has been overrun by large hordes of zombies. Critical infrastructure and supply lines through the port have been disrupted. NATO must retake Antwerpen to reopen this vital port and transportation hub.

Multi-national NATO forces are still recovering and reassessing personnel and equipment losses from earlier zombie engagements. Participating NATO countries have volunteered forces to retake Antwerpen as follows:

• Belgium: 1st Battalion Paracommando Brigade staging in Brussels

• France: 3rd Marine Infantry Parachute Regiment staging in Lille

• France: Escadron de Chasse 2/30, staging in Colmar-Meyenheim

• France: 9th Battery, 40th Artillery Regiment, staging in Dunkerque

• Germany: 5th Battery, 131st Artillery Regiment staging in Aachen

• Germany: 291st Jäger Battalion staging in Eindhoven

• Netherlands: 11th Airmobile Brigade staging in Eindhoven

• US: 2nd Cavalry Regiment, Stryker Brigade staging in Chièvres Air Base

MISSION:

NATO will conduct offensive operations beginning on [RETRACTED] to retake Antwerpen from zombie forces.

EXECUTION:

Manoeuvre: Belgian forces will attack north seizing zombie-held areas around the port. Dutch forces will attack east to isolate the city. German forces will attack south to block potential zombie movements. US cavalry Regiment will provide QRF, targeting large zombie formations. French ground and air reserves are on standby.

Fire support: French and German artillery units will fire precision strikes against zombie strong-points. Naval gunfire from Royal Navy ships off the coast will provide additional fire support.

Protection: All forces will maintain disciplinary fire to avoid friendly casualties. US Stryker brigade will act as quick reaction force to counterattack zombie breakthroughs. Engineers will repair bridges and roads to maintain mobility.

Sustainment: Each country will provide national-level logistics support. Medical support will be coordinated by Belgian forces in Brussels.

COMMAND/SIGNAL: Headquarters SHAPE will command overall operation with national contingents retaining tactical control. Communications will utilize NATO classified channels.

Godspeed, soldiers.

---

Addendum 1:

Local civilian informants played a crucial role in scouting the area around Antwerpen prior to the military operation. By gathering intelligence on zombie movements and numbers, as well as identifying potential survivor holdouts, these brave informants provided critical insights that allowed forces to avoid dangerous areas and rescue trapped civilians. Their efforts scoping the battlefield proved invaluable.

Addendum 2:

A resourceful local farmer aided coalition forces using an ingeniously modified combined harvester. By outfitting the vehicle with a harvester header, the farmer was able to mow down scores of zombies with ease. His modified harvester enabled rapid clearance of hordes, paving the way for coalition troops to retake Antwerpen. The farmer's clever innovation and bravery were key factors in the operation's success and should be looked into by NATO Allied Command Transformation (ACT). If I may say so, beware of farmers with tractors, they are subtle and quick to anger.

...

Transcript 04

A video, most likely filmed from the perspective of a hidden camera attached to Putin’s FSB body guard.

Putin is sitting in his office in the Kremlin with Shoigu. Suddenly Putin turns to Shoigu with glassy, unfocused eyes.

Putin (zombie voice): I need brains. Must eat brains.

Putin lunges at Shoigu and bites into his head. Shoigu collapses to the ground.

Several Agents and Kremlin officials rush in.

Official 1 (scared): President Putin has become a zombie!

Official 2 (angry): This is an outrage! Putin can no longer lead Russia in this state.

FSB Agent (arrogant): How dare you criticize the President! He is still our supreme leader. You are under arrest!

Putin shambles around the room, blood dripping from his mouth.

Putin (zombie voice): I am leader of all zombies. Give me brains!

The officials argue about who should donate his brain next while Putin devours one after the other. When no one is left the FSB agent defects to the west and sells the recording to CNN.

The troll factories of St. Petersburg are trying to spin the story that Putin did not become a zombie, that this is a lie from the decadent West, that their beloved leader instead just wants to fully savour the minds of his people.

---

Meanwhile near Bakhmut, Zelenskyy is watching footage of the Kremlin scene on his phone.

Zelenskyy (ice cold, grim voice): I'm not even surprised.

Zelenskyy puts on his earbuds, listening to ‘Judas Priest Painkiller’, grabs a chainsaw and starts fighting off Russian zombies alongside Ash Williams, Alice Abernathy, Daryl Dixon, Tallahassee and Cherry Darling, defending the hills over Bakhmut.

...

Transcript 05

Excerpt from r/jokes and r/ukraine:

Why did nobody realize Putin was a zombie? Because he had been dead inside for years.

Why did Putin's speeches start sounding more disjointed and zombie-like?

Because he was trying to appeal to his undead base.

Why did Putin suddenly start wearing sunglasses all the time?

Because his eyes were now permanently bloodshot from all the brain-eating.

Why did Putin's enemies stop calling him a dictator?

Because they thought he was now just a "dead-tator".

Why did Putin get kicked out of the zombie club? Because he kept trying to annex their territories.

Why did Putin's zombie followers start to lose faith in him?

Because he kept insisting on a "one brain, one vote" policy.

Why did Putin's doctor never realize he was a zombie?

Because he always had a pulse...on his political opponents.

Why did Putin's chef never realize Putin became a zombie?

Because he always has asked for his steak "rare and bloody".

Why did Putin's zombie meet with Zelenskyy? To ask if Ukraine had a brains-for-oil program.

Why did Putin's zombie meet with Zelenskyy?

To suggest a new horror movie plot: "Zombie President vs. Comedian-in-Chief".

Why did Putin's zombie meet with Lukaschenka?

To discuss the possibility of a joint invasion of "Brainland".

Why did Putin become a zombie?

Because he thought it would be a great way to "reanimate" his political career.

Why did Putin become a zombie?

Because he realized that he could finally eat his opponents' brains legally.

Why did Putin become a zombie?

To prove that he's not afraid to "sink his teeth" into the tough issues facing Russia.

...

Transcript 13

The evening News from TaiwanTV with Yeh Chou!

China's brave scientists are working day and night to find an antidote to the zombie virus that is threatening to overrun the mainland. Two million Chinese citizens turn into zombies every day, but China's leaders refuse to use the proven German antidote.

According to government officials, the German solution developed by those arrogant long-noses would be a loss of face for China. Instead, Chinese scientists are experimenting with traditional herbal remedies and acupuncture to stop the zombie plague. So far there have been no reports of success.

Meanwhile here in Taiwan, we have rolled out a massive and efficient vaccination program using the German antidote. Thanks to well-organized distribution and lines that move quickly, Taiwanese citizens have showed their patriotism by lining up en masse to get the zombie shot.

Experts forecast that at this rapid pace, the entire Taiwanese population may be immune to the zombie virus within two months! Our economy has not suffered any major disruptions due to zombie outbreaks and civil unrest. Life goes on as normal here in Taiwan.

It seems China's pride may cost them dearly as the zombie outbreak rages on unchecked. Perhaps they should swallow their national ego and get the proven vaccine before most of their citizens become the walking dead! Only time will tell if China's ancient herbal cures can compete with modern science in the fight against this zombie apocalypse. Stay tuned to TaiwanTV for further humorous commentary on China's noble but potentially disastrous zombie experiment!

...

Transcript 14

COSMIC TOP SECRET/STRATEGIC OVERVIEW

To: NATO Council

From: NATO Military Committee

Subject: Strategic Overview of the world wide zombie outbreak

SITUATION:

The global zombie outbreak continues to spread but some regions have managed to contain the situation.

North America, Western Europe, Australia and New Zealand have implemented successful defences through vaccination and military operations.

Japan and South Korea, with assistance from U.S. and Taiwanese forces, have pushed back large numbers of North Korean zombies apparently deployed deliberately by the Kim regime.

Columbia remains the last organized holdout in South America withstanding zombie hordes from the southern parts of the continent with support incoming from Canada, Mexico and the US by the hour.

Africa has been completely overrun, with zombie numbers in the hundreds of millions ravaging the continent. EU and Arab coalition forces have established strongholds at the narrow land bridge to the Arabian subcontinent.

The situation in Asia is deteriorating rapidly. Only pockets of resistance remain as zombie numbers climb.

Ukraine, Belarus, and the Kaliningrad region have joined the NATO council and are helping Russian separatist forces to defend St. Petersburg from millions of zombies moving from Central Asia toward NATO borders. Russian President Putin still appears to be in power in much of Russia, even though rumours suggest that he got some weird appetite while his health is visibly deteriorating.

Africa has experienced a total breakdown of civilization and must be considered a lost cause beyond any hope of recovery due to the sheer size of zombie populations.

The use of nuclear weapons is no longer rejected given the hundreds of millions of zombies posing an existential threat. Precision strategic strikes may be necessary to neutralize zombie hordes in key locations.

In summary, the global situation remains dire. While some regions have stabilized through vaccination and military force, zombie numbers continue to climb in Parts of Asia, most of South America and Africa. Containment will require an international coalition effort utilizing all means necessary.

While some progress has been made containing the initial zombie outbreak, we must recognize this crisis is far from over and likely to escalate further in the coming months. We have only a limited time to prepare for the worst.

MISSION:

We demand a massive increase in wartime industrial production to supply our military forces. Makeshift militias must be incorporated into regular support units and mandatory conscription of all able-bodied adults up to two years is strongly recommended.

A coordinated international effort must urgently ramp up scientific research and technology development to fight the zombie virus at its source. This includes more effective vaccines, antiviral treatments, and detection methods.

The construction of additional crematoriums and disposal facilities is critical to destroy the bodies of neutralized zombies and eliminate the risk of further infection.

No country has been spared from this plague. We have already suffered millions of casualties worldwide:

• No reliable Numbers for China and Russia due to complete news blackout.

• At least one billion dead in Africa, possibly a complete extinction event.

• 300 million dead in Asia, possibly much higher, large pocket resistance holding out

• 100 million dead in South America, possibly much higher, disorganized resistance holding out

• 45 million dead in North America

• 35 million dead in Europa outside Russia

• less than 100,000 dead in Australia, New Zealand, Taiwan, Japan.

These numbers will continue to climb exponentially without drastic and coordinated global action. We are in a race against time. Nations must come together, putting aside differences, to mount a full scale war effort against the zombie horde threatening to consume humanity.

We at NATO pledge to work with all allies willing to do whatever is necessary to defend life and civilization itself. The hardest days lie ahead, but with unity of purpose and relentless resolve, we can prevail.

Now is the time for mankind to look danger in the eye, stand as one, and fight for our very survival as a species. The alternative is too horrific to contemplate. The fate of humanity rests upon our collective response in the coming months. We must rise to this challenge with courage, conviction and unrelenting will.

EXECUTION:

• Coordinate shipments of industrial materials and supplies between member nations to avoid bottlenecks and shortages. Joint Support Enabling Command (JSEC) can identify which countries have surplus production capacity of key materials and match them with countries that need those materials.

• Provide funding and incentives for businesses to rapidly expand production lines for critical military equipment like armoured vehicles, body armour, weapons, ammunition, communication devices, and medical supplies. Allied Command Acquisition (ACA) can identify which companies have the ability to scale up fastest and prioritize contracts.

• National temporarily relax regulations around work hours, shift lengths, and hiring to allow businesses to operate at maximum output. The pro-Western allies can also coordinate the sharing of skilled labour between countries.

• Invest in automation and modernization of production facilities to maximize output. The allies can share and optimize research and development funds to provide grants for businesses to upgrade factories and incorporate things like robotics and 3D printing.

• Provide grants and funding for scientific research related to understanding and combating the zombie virus. This includes research into the virus's origin, spread, genetic makeup, and potential cures or treatments. The WHO can coordinate a consortium of scientists and researchers from member nations.

• Organize collaboration between pharmaceutical companies, biotech startups, government research agencies and universities to accelerate development of antiviral drugs, vaccines and diagnostic tests. The WHO can facilitate sharing of data, resources and intellectual property.

• Construct new research laboratories, provide additional funding and expedite approvals/permits for research projects with potential to combat the outbreak. The WHO leadership must make combating the virus the top scientific priority.

...

Transcript 15

The sweltering African sun beat down unforgivingly as Kudzo and Akosua walked, hand in hand, along the dusty road. Kudzo looked at Akosua with a smile as they spotted the border to the Arabian Peninsula, the towering fortifications already visible in the distance, a feeling of hope in the air.

Akosua returned the smile but suddenly she caught a glims of movement!

"Kudzo, over there!"

Dozens of rotting, cadaverous figures were staggering behind them, flesh hanging in decaying tatters from their bones.

"Run for your life!" Kudzo cried as the young couple took flight towards the towering fortifications in the distance.

As they fled, the horde of zombies grew inevitably, becoming hundreds, then thousands, maybe millions, filling the horizon like a swarm of pestilence liquid flesh. Akosua was already exhausted from the arduous journey, close to breaking down, dragged along by Kudzo.

Reaching the fortress walls, they begged the soldiers above to let them in, the horde closing in fast. For precious seconds nothing happened, most soldiers just turned away, avoiding their pledge. But finally an officer saw their youth and ordered for the gates to be opened, violating standing orders.

Only a moment before the couple was overrun by the rotten horde the soldiers unleashed a storm of bullets from their fortifications, cutting down masses of zombies. Yet more kept coming, an endless tide of corruption.

Kudzo and Akosua slipped through the gates as a few zombies followed, bringing Kudzo to fall, biting into his flesh as Akosua screamed a cry of anguish that rent the very heavens.

Quickly some soldiers rushed over and slaughtered the zombies with knifes and bayonets while the gates swung shut, sealing out damnation.

A summoned medic gazed upon Kudzo's ravaged body, while tears like crystal raindrops streamed down Akosua's cheeks. "He'll become one of them!" she sobbed broken-heartedly.

The medic applied several injections at the bleeding Kudzo, tended his wounds.

“We know how to handle this. We got the meds and a field hospital not far from here. And he is a tough fighter."

Meanwhile, the battle outside escalated, the sound of guns atop the wall became a never-ending storm of din. But when it suddenly stopped everybody knew the worst was yet to come, an alarm siren wailed its doleful song.

"Protective nuclear strike!" the medic screamed! Suddenly everybody began running, the soldiers jumped from the wall, hurried and fumbled into bunkers and trenches.

The medic pulled Kudzo and Akosua into an crudely dug underground cave as the ground trembled from nuclear hate just outside the wall, the bright light shadowing over the wall into the sky over-shining the very sun, shattering their world.

After what seemed like eternity, the shaking subsided. The medic forced a grin. "Sorry about the little nuclear war outside. I'm Rajab. And you?"

Akosua began to weep bitter tears anew. "I'm Akosua. This is Kudzo. Are there other survivors?"

Rajab smile faded. He gazed sorrowfully at Kudzo's wounds then at Akosua's tear-stained face. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "You were the only ones for weeks and what came in your wake robs me of all hope. I wish there was more I could do to ease your mind. But at least you are alive. And by Allah the Almighty, I will give my best to keep your friend alive too."

...

Transcript 16

Six years later. John Stilton sits outside his little wooden hut in the middle of nowhere, enjoying a little moon shine from a plastic bottle.

“Look at that… haven’t seen any Stinker for two years..” he mumbled as a pale creatures stumbled aimlessly towards him. He pulled his 45er out of his holster and took aim.

“Hold it John!” the spindly creature wailed “It is me, Bob Fraser. Did we win?”

John held the gun upwards and secured it, not believing his own eyes for a moment.

“What do you mean with ‘did we win’? Have you been living under a rock? Where have you been all these years?”

Bob falls into the chair next to John. John nonchalantly offers him the plastic bottle with the moon shine. Bob took a big swig, he found words again.

“I have been hiding after Chicago fell. I had a bunker and I had guns and food and shit… I ran out of food a week ago. What happened? Did the government collapse? Who is ruling the world now? What happened?”

John looked angry a Bob.

“You hid in a fucking hole and let others do the dirty work? Fuck you Bob. You are an asshole. We others stood together, we stood tall. We fought, we bleed, we suffered. But we prevailed! Nothing collapsed. It was the very foundations our ancestors build which kept us afloat. It was our allies sharing their wisdom, It was brave men and woman defending the weak. Together.”

John turned to Bob, glared at the dull pale creature next to him, the creature which looked more like a zombie than a breathing human.

“BOB WE FUCKING WON AFTER TWO YEARS. And you fucking hid in a dirty little hole shitting your pants for another four years. You are a spineless idiot.”

Bob remained silent. Took another swig from the bottle and nodded.

“How has live been for you?” wondered Bob.

“Been stationed at Columbia for half a year. Shooting Stinkers for a while, taking care of survivors. Later my Battalion moved down the south coast, supplying resistance pockets, down to Tierra del Fuego. A beautiful wild land. Met my future son-in-law down there. He he joined us, we became good friends, after we were done south he stood at my house for half a year, getting his feet back on the ground. He wooed my daughter, returned to Tierra del Fuego, started a new life with my daughter down there. He still shots Stinkers from time to time but his cattle farm is doing well. A very solitude life though, not many survived in the South.”

“How bad was it?”

“Billions. Billions dead. Africa has been practically sterilized and is resettled by Arabs and Europeans. The European Union is now claiming a third of Africa and a third of Russia. South America has still millions of Zombies hidden in the Amazonas, no one dares to venture there. Half of the population dead, no nation structures existing any more, lots of settlers pouring in from North- and Middle-America, claiming the empty lands and declaring new nations. Central Asia, Russia, most of China, half of India gone. The Europeans and Chinese nearly went nuclear about the Siberian oil fields. In the end some Russian warlords had stolen enough nukes to be taken serious and claimed Siberia and gathered around 500.000 remaining Russkis around them.

The rest of the territory is free to grab for the first settlers. Most interestingly even Chinese settlers align to the EU. Not much love for a Chinese government refusing to use a perfectly good vaccine for stupid reasons. Oh, and the US put up some military outposts and claims around Kamchatka. No one wants to live there but better have and not need than need and not have. All in all the death toll was brutal. But now… so many opportunities. I mean a third of the world is now free to grab. Most tyrants and oligarchs collapsed. Whatever is left nowadays are the hardcore die-hard who know the value of having a trusted mate protecting your back. The economy is bustling, there are good jobs everywhere.”

“But you are staying here in the Rockies?”

“Guess so. I am 65. I’ll just enjoy my last days with good booze and fresh game in the wonderful Rockies. How about you?”

“Is my farm still around?”

“Nope. You have been considered dead and it was torn down. But I guess if you go south you will easily find an abandoned Hacienda somewhere in Argentine. You are still young enough to start anew. Are you 50? 51? How about marrying again?”

“Something like that. Too bad I wasted so much time hiding in a hole.”

“Bob?”

“Yes?”

“I am happy you are still alive, mate.”

Authors notes

These texts resulted from a discussion with a misanthropic prepper (“when the apocalypse comes I hide in my basement with my gun and tons of canned food”) and a writing prompt I came over a couple of weeks before. I don’t claim it is something special, I just did it because I was in the mood.

I used the topic to experiment with AI-supported writing. Either I let AI improve my texts or I gave the AI very long and elaborated prompts to generate the text. That way I wanted to test how I could use different writing styles. Still around 50% of the text is hand made or heavily edited AI content. As may be obvious I also used different models and infrastructure prompts. To my surprise the list of Putin jokes is 100% ChatGPT and still funny.

I could have done it without ChatGPT but it would have taken a lot longer and it allowed me to try out LOTS OF different aspects, locations, writing styles, drama, humour, scientific analysis, military briefing, whatever… all in just four hours of writing. And it was an interesting experience, I might from now on always use AI at least for quality assurance.

After the crushing defeat marking the end to the 2. Human-Illirian War the United Illirian Planets disbanded Humanity's military forces leaving only intra-system police and customs crafts as well as, after long protests by the Solarian temporary government, one warship to guard Voyager 1, continuing a 500-year-long tradition.

The following decades saw Humanity's integration into the Council of Species, helped along by massive economic aids, in a large part from the UIP turning these old enemies into close economic allies.

150 years later the Council of Species faces a threat unlike any before.

"And now to the last item on today's agenda, proposal 54748, the reactivation of Humanity's military forces, brought forward by the United Illirian Planets. First, let's hear First Speaker Ullioid of the United Illirian Planets."

"Thank you, president. With the enemy closing in from the galactic center we need any military forces possible to fight back. Leaving an economic power as huge as the Solarian Republic untapped is simply bad strategy. Our Human friends have shown their trustworthiness and honor over the last century. We believe it is time to remove the last traces of a conflict long over and let them fight on our side in this new conflict."

"Thank you, First Speaker. Now let us discuss... Yes, King Kaskart the 110th."

"Thank you, president. I don't see how granting the Humans the right to create their own military will bring us any benefit so late into the war, the..."

"It is hardly late yet! The war may as well continue..."

"The Humans can't be trusted. 150 years aren't nearly enough time to..."

"Please return to order. Let King..."

For the next hours the Council of Species descended into controlled chaos. At any given point, multiple voices could be heard trying to be louder than the next, yet never too many for a careful listener to gather all the major points.

After the discussion quieted down, the president took the word again. "Now that everyone could voice their thoughts, let us hear the ones this affects most. If you would, President Josef Schmidt of the Solarian Republic."

"Thank you, president. First let me thank the United Illirian Planets for the trust placed in us in the name of all Solarian Citizens and all other Humans scattered across council space. It is hard to explain how proud and happy we are to be seen as friends and allies after all the atrocities in our shared past. For the future, all we wish for is to prosper together with all other members of the Council of Species. Letting us help in the war will surely be remembered as a historic point marking a new era of cooperation by all our descendants."

"Thank you, President. Some of our council members have expressed concerns about your loyalty towards the council once the war is over."

"The Solarian Republic is not the same as the United Nations of Earth in our history books. The Solarian Republic was part of the Council of Species since its foundation and will stay till its end!"

"Thank you. There are concerns about the strategic gains in the current war by creating additional drain on our resources by creating a whole new military."

"Supplying existing forces takes, of course, priority over creating new forces, however, we have large ship building and refitting capabilities, which, while unable to build true warships, will be able to produce a fleet of armed transports to make sure our supplies will reach your forces at the front line. And let's not forget our sole warship Mountain guarding Voyager 1, which ended up quite large since we only have one."

"Thank you, President. The council will now commence the first vote."

---

One almost (the Tertretan people are undisputed masters of holding grudges) unanimous vote later near Argos IV.

The rail gun ship Moon Lancer, Royal Kaskart Navy, shook rhythmically every ten seconds, firing its twenty rails one after the other into the nearly empty void. Moon Lancer was far behind the actual battlefield along the orbit of Argos V, a gas giant not unlike Jupiter, coordinating the frantic efforts to keep the enemy at bay until the evacuation of the inner planets would be finished.

Officer Kertrek, Long range Sensor Station 2.

"Another 8 Drops, 5 light hours, in plane, 65°. 2 battleship size, 6 cruiser. Designate Zeta 5. Heading towards Argos VI."

"Hah, lucky guy!", came from behind him.

"What?"

"You got number 1000!", his colleague Officer Brekun, Long range sensor station 1, shouted over the thump signaling another titanium round leaving the ship.

"Didn't Senkrat get the thousandth?"

"Nah, identification, just one battleship, not 5 Transports. Hey, think we reach 2000?"

"I bet they have enough ships for that. Just hope... Wait."

Kertrek reached over to the microphone activator, "Another drop, 4 light hours, in plane, 350°. Moon size, wait, what?! Oh. Oh Fuck. Correction, one planet size. Designate Zeta 6. Heading towards Argus IV." Click.

"The fuck is planet size?"

"Too big for moon!"

"There's no upper limit for moon!"

"Radius of over 6000km?"

"Fuck! That large? Guess that works."

"Great, now let.. Oh no."

Click, "Counting dozens of new objects around Zeta 6. Battleship size. Same trajectory." Click.

"Bridge to LRS 2, confirm planet size object heading towards Argus IV.", sounds from Kertreks terminal.

Click, "Confirming planet size object heading towards Argus IV. Object is accelerating. Over 100 Battleship size on same trajectory." Click.

"Hah, bridge doesn't believe it either. You sure... Ah, wait.", Click, "Five drops..."

---

The flag bridge had descended into utter madness, a planet-sized object accelerating under its own power with any meaningful speed wasn't just unheard of; it was generally considered physically impossible.

During the chaos, Communications Officer Perham was busy organizing the patrols screening the evacuation transports when the computer forwarded a message to her terminal:

"This is Captain Arthur of the warship Mountain, Solarian Navy. You've probably spotted us already, it's the moving planet. Chuckles We have one warship with more firepower than most moon defense bases and 200 battleship sized fighters. How can we be of assistance?"

---

A surprisingly short battle later on a secure channel between admiral Krigsten of the RKN and captain Arthur of the SN.

"So tell me, where you got that thing and a whole fleet to accompany it? Until two weeks ago you had no navy at all."

"Ah, but we don't have a fleet; this is just our single warship guarding Voyager 1. For the time being, we simply entrusted local law enforcement with keeping it safe."

"Pretty sure that's way past a warship."

"But it is one, we have followed galactic law by the letter: 'Humanity may guard their historic probe Voyager 1 with a single warship, which may deploy a maximum of 200 fighters.' Mountain is a warship as defined by the council. 'A warship is a starship primarily built for military actions' and a starship being 'any fully artificial structure capable of independent maneuvering at sublightspeed as well as in hyperspace.'"

"You want to tell me that is not a planet you covered under a kilometer of steel but an actual steel planet?"

"Yeah, makes the initial construction a bit harder, but the payoff is so worth it. Want to know the size of our primary reactor?"

"No, I'm good."

"It's larger than your flagship. And we have over ten."

"Ugh. Thanks."

"Haven't told you about our fighters yet."

"No need to, I'm getting the picture."

"Turns out, by council definition, you can turn everything into a fighter by removing the hyperspace drive and placing the hangar on a military installation."

"Are you done?"

"You want to hear more?"

"No."

"Then yes."

"Great."

"We had built a second one in case we needed a replacement. It'll be here in a week."

---

One of my favorites I posted over on r/hfy before.

"The ambassador of the human civilisation will speak now."

On the call of these words a human walked up to the speaker’s podium in the Hall of Representatives. A thousand eyes - or whatever biological equivalent the many different species had - were on her from other ambassadors on the seats that arched upwards in many rows. Representative Harknethos was among them. The civilisation he spoke for was a late member and he was only the third one after the ambassador that had handled the initiation into the Commonwealth. So he knew exactly how this would play out. And he also knew that hundreds of billions of beings were watching the live transmission from thousands of planets across the Commonwealth for it was the very first official appearance of this new species.

The aged human looked tired and disheveled, seemingly badly prepared for the task of speaking on behalf of her people. The only thing not making her appear disrespectful was that she actually had an ambassadors cloth draped over her shoulders, the long and slim piece barely adorned with just a few additional lines of colorful yarn.

"Honoured ambassadors, representatives of all the species in the Galactic Commonwealth", she spoke the greeting in a clear and ringing voice. Surprisingly she used the common language, had the humans been this fast to learn it? It had caused a low murmur amongst the other ambassadors, but it quickly died down once the human continued.

"My name is Valentina Fedorovna and I am the chosen representative of all beings living in the human civilisation. I am sorry that the proper delegation was unable to appear on the short notice we were given. We did give up expecting an invitation many cycles ago. As the civil servant in closest proximity I am now speaking in their stead, though I certainly do not bring the soft diplomatic touch of my colleagues."

The obvious rudeness of the human caused a number of the present beings to make various noises of disagreement. This was not the way these things should go, she should have been begging for membership. It also seemed the dossier on the humans had been quite wrong - it stated that their species were only known since very recently. Meanwhile, the human just went on, ignoring any of the signs of mild protest.

"Thirty cycles ago we made first contact to the Niowemar people. They had once been, as you surely are aware, a member species of your Commonwealth until they were exiled from their own planet and barred from the travel nodes. A flotilla of their refugee ships had made its way across the stars with sublight engines in search of a new home. The only one to arrive had carried fifteen million beings.

“I am certain you know how lifeforms handle cosmic radiation over longer than one generation. I am certain I do not have to tell you of the state they were in. We were unable to save half of them, but the rest we gave a home on our planet.

“They told us about the way conflicts were handled in the Galactic Commonwealth. They told us about the so-called deathless wars. And they told us what happened to the ones subjugated by the victors. We tried to contact you then, honoured ambassadors. In lieu of hearing your side, we took what we learned for the truth. Know, that I am speaking for the Niowemar now too."

Over the last part there were quite loud cries of disagreement. One ambassador especially was calling for the human speaker to be cut off - Harknethos identified them as a member of the people that had instigated the conflict against the Niowemar. Of course there had to be rules to the proceedings and the human still had time, so order was called and the noise died down again. But - thirty cycles? So long had the humans been known already and they did not get to speak until now?

"The last refugee ship had carried something exceptionally precious with it besides the many lives - the knowledge to create a hyperspace connection node. Two cycles later we had been successful in creating a stable one. I know you are aware of its limitations, but we were not.

“We had tried to contact you many times then, honoured ambassadors. And without guidance, we had to revert to experimentation. In the process we lost many ships and a number of lives only to learn that it is impossible to establish a connection to any other node from just one side.

“This cut off from travel seemed deliberate and together with the communication silence it gave us the impression that the Commonwealth were trying to isolate us. Seeing that our node could only serve as an end point, we transmitted an open invitation for refugees of the Niowemar and anyone else displaced from their home."

More calls for order - these accusations were very serious and a number of ambassadors seemed to not want to wait for their turn to speak. It did sound unbelievable though, this pre-FTL species just build a feasible connection into the hyperspace network of the Commonwealth from merely theoretical second-hand knowledge? One thing was for sure, that dossier about them was worthless. Harknethos and probably a large number of the other ambassadors had been left in the dark about the recent history of that species. It was also obvious that the humans were crazy - to broadly call for anyone to just come to their underdeveloped world spelled suicide.

"We underestimated the number of species that were robbed of their planet or enslaved on it, and we saw a large influx of arrivals. By then we had stopped asking you for anything, honoured ambassadors, though we still needed help in ensuring order and safety. So we were actually lucky that the first larger group to show up was a fleet of Ja'kartii pirates.

“We welcomed them and offered them a home. They merely wanted us to spare their children from having to grow in the confines of a spaceship, and in turn patrolled the hyperspace node promising to protect anyone coming with peaceful intentions.

“I am certain you learned the force of their railguns, honoured ambassadors, when you sent one spy-ship after the other. Just know, that the Ja'kartii too found a home with us and I am also speaking for them."

The noise had gotten ridiculous. Even the call for order had not been enough to silence some, but the human just spoke on, raising her ringing voice over the commotion.

"Working with the people that followed our invitation, we colonized another planet and two moons in our own solar system, before we made landfall in two neighboring ones. These hyperspace nodes we were able to connect to the one near our home planet that still had new ships arriving every day.

“We saw more pirates too, most of them not as benevolent as the Ja'kartii, and some of them only pretending to be pirates. You must surely know about the latter. We observed those and the constant spy-ships to be the only sort of communication from the Commonwealth until the invitation to this very event, which I can only assume had to be in error.

“I want you to understand, honoured ambassadors, that I am speaking for sixty-five billion beings across Earth, Mars, Titan, Europa, Boru and Laetillia. I am speaking for fifteen species that are now our equals in the human civilisation. I am not here to ask for membership to your Commonwealth. I am not here to ask for anything at all. I am merely here to state our invitation to every sapient being in the galaxy."

Across the chaos that unfolded through the Hall of Representatives boomed the humans voice: "Give me your tired, your poor; your huddled masses yearning to breathe free; the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me; I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

---

Cheers. I came over to Lemmy from r/HFY. Can't not post one of my personal favourites.

There's also a narration available done by KnightTime Audio Narration.

First (Part 1) | Prev (Part 2)

I can't imagine the debate that went on amongst your people but finally a small shuttle emerged from the fleet and headed towards the Imperator's palace. The war council, in their shame, refused to meet with your delegates. Instead they nominated one of their members and sent me along as an "Honor Guard". That was when I saw you, my first human. You were standing at the end of your shuttles ramp next to another delegate. you with your red folder and he with his green folder.

Through the few human survivors we had managed to take, we managed to decipher your language and program a translator. Through that the lone council member announced that he was here to discuss the terms of our surrender. You and your co-delegate traded a brief look. I didn't know what it was at the time but I have come to learn it was relief. Your co-delegate stepped forward and offered your list of terms of our surrender.

Your terms were quite reasonable really, there were demands that we turn over copies of all military and civilian technology as well as working prototypes so that you could adapt them. We also had to make territorial concessions as well as accept an occupying force in order to ensure that we did not rebuild in an attempt to fight again.

When all the songs were sung and our honor pledges were finished you opened a communicator and said one word, "sunrise", and you and your partner turned to leave. A voice in the transmitter in my ear told me that your fleet was beginning to approach. maybe it was because I was young and impulsive or perhaps I knew that my dishonor was so complete that I couldn't get any worse, but either way I stepped out of line and called out to you. "Wait, if your co-delegate had our terms for surrender, what was in your folder?" Another look crossed his face, one that I would learn to be a 'wry smile'. "This folder here?" you asked, "This folder holds the terms of surrender." I told you that I didn't understand and your smile faltered. You looked me right in the eyes and said, "These are the terms we were going to offer for our surrender to you."

When your fleet arrived in orbit I finally understood. The ships were in bad shape, they were falling apart and looked like the first fleet that had attacked us. They were hospital ships and cargo haulers, refitted transports that looked as if they were about to fall apart. The massive 'ship' we saw was actually your first colony ship back before you had even discovered the phase drive and faster than light travel. You had grafted phase drives to it and had to tow it into position using decrepit ore haulers. Our "occupiers" were disheveled civilians that looked half starved. Over the next many rotations I learned the truth.

You had gambled everything on this plan. Every last resource had been poured into the building of the grand fleets that you had used to attack us. Fields​ that you used to grow food were tilled over so you could build weapons factories. You had stripped half a dozen colonies and hundreds of asteroids and moons in order to assemble the vast fleets for your attack. You literally had nothing left to fight us. The fleet in orbit was there either to occupy us in the event of victory or to be used as an offering of slaves in the event of your defeat. You were so stretched thin of resources we had to supply you with fuel just so the bulk of your fleet could return home!

You knew that attacking us directly might not have been a sure victory so you had to make us believe that we couldn't face the endless onslaught of your fleets. Your final gamble had paid off. With peace secured, we were both able to rebuild your broken empire. now we are the strongest of allies. We fight side by side against those that would dare stand to oppose us. I was only able to visit you now due to the fact that my fleet is running a joint training exercise with one of yours.

That is why I am here now and there is something I must ask you. I didn't realize at the time because there was so much to do, and I haven't been able to see you in the four cycles since the peace treaty was ratified. But now that I have you here I must know. The last fleet we encountered during the final battle was 11-12. You must tell me as I have never been able to figure it out. What was the 12th fleet? What was 12 of 12?

With that the frail old man in the hospital bed looked over to the Kress Fleet Commander standing before him. A wry smile stretched across his weathered and pale face. "Perhaps", he whispered, "that is best left to the imagination".

First (Part 1) | Prev (Part 2)

---

Original Source.

Transcribed by u/IUpvoteUsernames in Reddit

Prev (Part 1) | Next (Part 3)

Two rotations later you attacked again. This time the fleet was larger and the ships were better equipped. The fleet didn't hesitate to open fire and were much more prepared for our defenses. The battle still didn't last very long and our losses were minimal. Once again our Learners were sent out. The few ships that were left mostly intact had a wide range of names, but every one of them had the designation 2-12 on their bow.

Still the council could not understand the meaning of the designation. Had we figured it out sooner I really doubt it would have made a difference in the end. Another two cycles later, almost to the minute, another fleet attacked. This one actually had ships we were familiar with. They were older battlecruisers like the "Formidable", the "Valiant", the "Daring". This fleet was about half the size of the fleets you had sent into battle back at the beginning of the war, but they had been outfitted with more advanced weapons and shields.

Our defense fleet was small since we had thought that you didn't know where our home world was and that you were on the verge of losing the war. The battle was fierce but as was common, we gained the upper hand. When it was clear that your fleet was going to lose the surviving ships did something we had never seen before.

Rather than fleeing or fighting to the death. The last ships intentionally rammed the nearest Kressian ship. When the battle was over your entire fleet, some 70 ships were gone. We had lost three warships and over a dozen were critically damaged. It was one of the costliest battles we had ever fought.

As our repair crews were sent out to assess the damage, our Learners noted on the record that every ship in the fleet that we could get a clear view on had the designation 3-12 on their bow. Finally the council realized what that meant. They thought that surely the Humans didn't have the ability to field nine more fleets like the one they had just sent, but at their suggestion the Imperator recalled a reserve fleet and sent out several attack groups to search our home sector for more humans. Like clockwork you would send a fleet to attack us every two cycles.

Each fleet was larger and stronger than the last and the names became more hostile to match the growing ferocity of your attacks. We witnessed the destruction of ships like the "Vengeance" and the "Retaliation" and as each fleet was down to its last ships, they would ram into our or intentionally detonate their phase drives in order to cause as much damage as possible.

Our losses we mounting and fear had begun to build not only among the rank and file, but also within the war council itself. By the time the 8-12 fleet had attacked we were recalling every active fleet within range to bolster our defenses. When fleet 9-12 attacked we were on the verge of panic. This fleet was massive, easily numbering 1000 ships. We saw ships that we had never encountered before. These were not the crude and bulky vessels we were accustomed to...

These ships were sleek and fast. Their shields were powerful and we were quite dismayed to see that they had the same pulse cannons that our own cruisers and battleships used. By then our entire fleet was clustered around our home world so we still won the battle, but not before several of your ships broke through our lines and began to bombard our planet. The damage was relatively minor but it set off a panic among the populace.

The people knew that we were fighting off attack after attack, but the war council had always told them that we were suffering no losses while they were being utterly destroyed. Now everyone knew that the humans were not giving up on the war but were willing to sacrifice much to destroy us. At that point the council had, quietly, begun to discuss other options.

As a race steeped in traditions and honor, it was almost incomprehensible to even consider surrendering to the humans, but the loss of civilian life and the fact that each fleet we faced was becoming more and more powerful was giving us cause to talk. We knew that there were at least three more fleets ready to attack us and if they continued to grow in size and strength we might not be able to win. And we knew that losing would mean the death of countless Kressians. After all the death and destruction we had visited upon your people, we knew that our fate would be sealed if we could not end the war on terms.

Right on time, two rotations later, fleet 10-12 jumped into our system. There were only four ships, but they were big. No, big doesn't quite describe them. They were massive, bigger than massive. The best measurement we could get was over five krents or nearly three of your kilometers long, almost four times the size of our largest war cruiser.

Every open space of these ships was studded with large pulse cannons and missile tubes. They came screaming right into the heart of our fleet. For once we knew how you must have felt. We sent hundreds of ships out to fight four of yours and we were getting slaughtered. But this time it was our numbers that won out.

The sacrifices of so many of our ships and commanders allowed us to destroy the War, Famine, Pestilence and Death (as always we didn't understand the significance of the names at the time). When it was over we had less than 1000 ships remaining. The inner orbit of our planet was choked with wrecked hulls and frozen bodies. Pieces of ships were raining down into our atmosphere where they would catch fire and slam into the ground.

The council had no choice. They told the Imperator that if we didn't surrender to the humans when the next fleet arrived then it was likely that the last vestiges of our fleet would be destroyed and that our home world would be sterilized of all life. Reluctantly he agreed. Two rotations later fleet 11-12 jumped into our system.

We couldn't get a clear reading on them as they were outside our normal scanning range and our long range scanner was still damaged. It was impossible to get a clear count but we estimated that there were almost 10,000 ships. One of them was even bigger than the last four.

It must have been at least six kilometers long and had what looked to be cannon that were over 1/4 kilometer in size. The fleet stayed just out of visual range but its presence was all we needed. Almost immediately I was ordered to send a message to your fleet. We requested that delegates be sent to discuss terms of surrender.

Prev (Part 1) | Next (Part 3)

---

Original Source.

Transcribed by u/IUpvoteUsernames in Reddit

"I remember when the humans defeated the Kress Imperium; I'll remember it until I breathe my last. Do you remember it my old friend?" There was no answer from the bed next to me. "I'm sure you do, you were there after all. The war had started when I was only one cycle old. I remember when our race first discovered yours. We had stumbled on a colony during a standard mapping expedition. rather than try to make contact at that time our Grand Imperator sent a full honor fleet and our Prime Delegate.

To this day no one truly knows what went wrong or who fired first. What we do know for sure was that a lucky, or rather unlucky, shot had hit the Prime Delegate's flagship killing him and the Fleet Commander instantly. It didn't help that the Prime Delegate was also the Imperator's first born. Shortly after that the entire colony's defensive fleet was in ruins. In a fit of rage the fleet Sub-Commander had the entire colony burned to ashes and just like that, we were at war."

How you humans managed to resist us so long was almost as maddening as how you won the war. Your ships were slow, their shield were weak and their weapons were underpowered. The only​ thing you had going for you was your cunning and your ability to reproduce.

No matter how many colonies we burned, no matter how many ships we destroyed there seemed to be an endless amount of reinforcements for you to send in their place. Your capacity to build fleets was like nothing we had seen before. You also fought every battle with a stubborn determination that has never been matched by over 100 races we have encountered in this galaxy. You would send 15 of your ships to destroy one of ours and when that didn't work, you would send 50.

But in the end even that was not enough. After nearly a cycle of war we finally saw a change. You were less likely to engage us in direct battles, preferring raids and hit and run tactics. When you did choose to fight us your fleets were smaller and seemed to be less willing to commit to a full on attack. The war council had thought that you had finally reached the point where you were no longer capable of resisting. How wrong they were.

I was a Signals sub-officer, just out of primary training and barely two cycles or roughly 40 of your Earth years old. I was working in the War Council's tactical center. They were discussing their next steps in the war and trying in vain to determine where your homeworld might be. Suddenly our long range sensors picked up a group of ships jumping into real space just outside our defensive grid.

We knew they were human but didn't recognize the ship configuration. There were only 12 of them and as they slowly made their way forward we didn't even think to open fire. The ships were small and looked as if they had been cobbled together out of debris and wreckage. It almost seemed as if they were lost and wanted to surrender to us until they opened fire.

Their weapons were pathetically weak, but they took us by surprise. Before our defensive weapons could return fire they had done heavy damage to our main long range sensors. Of course they didn't get off a second shot. All but one of the ships were instantly vaporized. The last one tried to flee but it's engines overheated and melted the aft half of the ship. Instantly the council ordered our Learners to get to work.

That was the one thing we picked up from you during the war. The limited number of victories you had, had given you the chance to study us and our technology. You took our weapons and attempted to reverse engineer them. The result was something between your weapons and ours, but it was certainly more effective. You also studied how we fought and adapted to us as much as you could.

Our ways have always been rigid, you once said that we lacked imagination. But now we tried to use your own methods against you. We studied the wreckage of your "fleet" but couldn't find much use. The ships were actually cobbled together out of mismatching parts and there were no survivors to interrogate. At the end of our Learner's report, just an addendum really, was that the sole surviving ship had two designations.

Your ship names were rather much more colorful than ours, those that were intact enough for us to study at least. The one surviving ship was named the "Folly" but right under it, stenciled on the buckled hull of the bow was 1-12. We thought that it was simply a numerical designation of that ship in the group and ignored it.

Next (Part 2)

---

Original Source.

Transcribed by u/IUpvoteUsernames in Reddit

"Their weapons and biology were obsolete."

The speaker stood before the entire Imperial War College Corps of Cadets.

"Well," the Major pondered for moment, "Their weapons were clearly obsolete. Powder based propellants and metal projectiles were their main methods of warfare. But their biology tricky."

A holograph of a human manifested on the stage next to a rotating display of a planet .

"Four limbs and a two eyes on the cephalic. Endoskeletons, and five fingers on their hands. About one and a half standard meters in hight. But strong, bulky, and mental titans of battle. The biological problems can wait, their mindset must be addressed. Their history is wrought with warfare. Thousands of cycles of conquest and collapse, each rendering a more ruthless method of slaughter than the last."

Blotches of color appeared on the holograph of the human homeworld as it flattened out.

"Each color represents a nation-state, its shape altering as it's conquered and revolts. Similar colors designate alliances. Warfare shaped their psyche. One continent of their race almost ruled their entire planet. They fought two planetary wars in just fifty cycles. Then they endured hundred and twenty of peace."

"For a brief moment the borders of their planet remained mostly stationary. Massive amounts of their population lost their warrior ethos until the resource wars, and they never looked back."

The colored outlines split at a few points, then the whole order broke into chaos. Lines shifting, splitting, a. expanding until three points began an unyielding advance across the planet.

"Three massive hyperpowers forged through fire, conquest, and resolve, which wrecked their whole planet down in a third and devastating terra bellum. Around this point, although hindered by massive destruction, their technology allowed exoplanetary mining to be feasible. This is when they entered our galactic community. We never needed to deal with a divided space faring species before. Our initial contact stunned the humans, as it does every species. Well they remain a divided species today, and a political nightmare for us. But their biological capacity for warfare?"

The display flashed to a paused holovid of a team of human soldiers. A red glow around them indicated their condition: wounded, exhausted,and dehydrated. They were in a wedge formation spaced fifteen meters apart. A flat outline of one soldier appeared with vital statistics. Blood loss was at 20%, rifle ammunition was down to a final magazine of 40, and two full 15 round magazines for his sidearm. The body had exhausted the last consumed energy intake and was burning up stored fat.

"This is their warrior mentality. These four men are all that remains of a platoon. One platoon, with bayonets fixed, covering a single bottleneck, as its battalion retreats during the biowar on travaticus."

The video played in silence. The four fired in single shots. Casings flew through the air. Then, two three meter tall armored creature appeared at the far end of the projection

"This is monstrosity is the biologically engineered warriors of the Archave. Ape like with claws for hands, and a massive pain tolerance. And this is these humans last stand. They concentrate fire, notice the change in the stathue and this humans personal information. Notice the shift in color to blue, this is the release of their adrenaline. It's potent. It's blocking out pain, it's increasing their reflexes and sharpening their fighting prowess."

The ape charged forward, rounds shredding at its armor and skin. It roared forward and ripped into the 1st soldier. The Corps gasped. The humans were glowing blue, rifles now expending rounds at burst speeds.

"Their heart rate is off the charts, a percentage increase we cannot even fathom. Yet they controlled their breathing, each shot landing on its target. Pay attention on the human farthest from the attackers."

The slat screen beeped as the farthest human ran out of rifle rounds and switched to the slower and controlled single shots of his handgun. The three remaining soldiers continued to lay fire on the advancing beasts, before they could reach the second victim the concentrated fire brought it down. The corps opened in a cheer that died as quickly as it erupted, the last beast had ripped another soldier in half. Rounds continued to fly, and the beast closed in on the third human, a claw spearing through it's torso and ripping him in half.

Another beep The last human had expended his very last round. The holovid paused and rotated to give a better view of the human and beast. Their eyes locked. The video began in slow motion as the human reached for his slung rifle and pulled it to his hip. His mandible dropped, skin stretched, and and veins bulged as the human screamed and leapt forward.

At bayonet point, he charged the monstrosity that had destroyed his brothers.

The corps was in silent awe.

A bayonet charge.

The creature stabbed the human in the chest, a massive red oval appeared on his stat screen where the claw had penetrated, and the human threw his rifle. The bayonet pierced the apes cheek, as the human flat lined.

"That charge, that refusal to quit, that spirit give their last full measure in the face of death, is why they won"

Original Post

!MESSAGE BEGINS

We made a mistake. That is the simple, undeniable truth of the matter, however painful it might be. The flaw was not in our Observatories, for those machines were as perfect as we could make, and they showed us only the unfiltered light of truth. The flaw was not in the Predictor, for it is a device of pure, infallible logic, turning raw data into meaningful information without the taint of emotion or bias. No, the flaw was within us, the Orchestrators of this disaster, the sentients who thought themselves beyond such failings. We are responsible.

It began a short while ago. as these things are measured. less than 66 Deeli ago. though I suspect our systems of measure will mean very little by the time anyone receives this transmission. We detected faint radio signals from a blossoming intelligence 2.14 Deelis outward from the Galactic Core, as photons travel. At first crude and unstructured. these leaking broadcasts quickly grew in complexity and strength, as did the messages they carried. Through our Observatories we watched a world of strife and violence. populated by a barbaric race of short-lived. fast breeding vermin. They were brutal and uncultured things which stabbed and shot and burned each other with no regard for life or purpose. Even their concepts of Art spoke of conflict and pain. They divided themselves according to some bizarre cultural patterns and set their every industry to cause of death.

They terrified us, but we were older and wiser and so very far away, so we did not fret. Then we watched them split the atom and breach the heavens within the breadth of one of their single, short generations, and we began to worry. When they began actively transmitting messages and greetings into space, we felt fear and horror. Their transmissions promised peace and camaraderie to any who were listening, but we had watched them for tool long to buy into such transparent deceptions. They knew we were out here, and they were coming for us.

The Orchestrators consulted the Predictor, and the output was dire. They would multiply and grow and flood out of their home system like some uncountable tide of Devourer worms, consuming all that lay in their path. It might take 6.8 Deelis, but they would destroy us if left unchecked. With aching carapaces we decided to act. and sealed our fate.

The Gift of Mercy was 84 strides long with a mouth 2/4 that in diameter, filled with many 44 weights of machinery, fuel, and ballast. It would push itself up to 2/8th of light speed with its onboard fuel, and then begin to consume interstellar Primary Element 2/2 to feed its unlimited acceleration. It would be traveling at nearly light speed when it hit. They would never see it coming. Its launch was a day of mourning, celebration, and reflection. The horror of the act we had committed weighted heavily upon us all; the necessity of our crime did little to comfort us.

The Gift had barely cleared the outer cometary halo when the mistake was realized. but it was too late. The Gift could not be caught. could not be recalled or diverted from its path. The architects and work crews, horrified at the awful power of the thing upon which they labored. had quietly self-terminated in droves. walking unshielded into radiation zones. neglecting proper null pressure safety or simple ceasing their nutrient consumption until their metabolic functions stopped. The appalling cost in lives had forced the Ochestrators to streamline the Gift's design and construction. There had been no time for the design or implementation of anything beyond the simple. massive engines and the stabilizing systems. We could only watch in shame and horror as the light of genocide faded into infrared against the distant void.

They grew, and they changed, in a handful of lifetimes htey abolished war, abandoned their violent tendencies and turned themselves to the grand purposes of life and Art. We watched them remake first themselves, and then their world. Their frail, soft bodies gave way to gleaming metals and plastics, they unified their people through an omnipresent communications grid and produced Art of such power and emotion, the likes of which the Galaxy has never seen before. Or again, because of us.

They converted their home world into a paradise (by their standards) and many 106s of them poured out into the surrounding system with a rapidity and vigor that we could only envy. With bodies built to survive every environment from the day lit surface of their innerrnost world. to the atmosphere of their largest gas giant and the cold void in-between. they set out to sculpt their system into something beautiful. At first we thought them simple miners. stripping the rocky planets and moons for vital resources. but then we began to see the purpose to their constructions. the artworks carved into every surface. and traced across the system in glittering lights and dancing fusion trails. And still. our terrible Gift approached.

They had less than 22 Deeli to see it, following so closely on the tail of its own light. In that time, oh so brief even by their fleeting lives, more than 1010 sentients prepared for death. Lovers exchanged last words, separated by worlds and the tyranny of light speed. Their planet side engineers worked frantically to build sufficient transmission infrastructure to upload the countless masses with the necessary neural modifications, while those above dumped lifetimes of music and literature from their databanks to make room for passengers. Those lacking the required hardware or the time to acquire itconsigned themselves to death, lashed out in fear and pain, or simply went about their lives as best they could under the circumstances.

The Gift arrived suddenly. the light of its impact visible in our skies. shining bright and cruel even to the unaugmented ocular receptor. We watched and we wept for our victims, dead so many Deelis before the light of their doom had even reached us. Many 64s of those who had been directly or even tangentially involved in the creation of the Gift sealed their spiracles with paste as a final penance for the small roles they had played in this atrocity. The light dimmed. the dust cleared, and our Observatories refocused upon the place where their shining blue world had once hung in the void, and found only dust and the pale gleam of an orphaned moon, wrapped in a thin, burning wisp of atmosphere that had once belonged to its parent.

Radiation and relativistic shrapnel had wiped out much of the inner system. and continent sized chunks of molten rock carried screaming ghosts outward at interstellar escape velocities, damned to wander the great void for an eternity. The damage was apocalyptic. but not complete. from the shadows of the outer worlds. tiny points of light emerged, thousands of fusion trails of single ships and world ships and everything in between. many 106s of survivors in flesh and steel and memory banks, ready to rebuild. For a few moments we felt relief, even joy, and we were filled with the hope that their culture and Art would survive the terrible blow we had dealt them. Then came the message. tightly focused at our star. transmitted simultaneously by hundreds of their ships.

"We know you are out there, and we are coming for you."

!MESSAGE ENDS

---

Thank you for reading the story, this story is more than six years old. I have included links to the original sources and where I came upon this story.

Original Source

Reddit Post

Bug Stompers

Second Fleet Lord Keras barely made it back to his heavy cruiser alive. He had just escaped the most horrible enemy he ever came across and was now sitting in his shuttle, waiting for clearance to land.

But Science master Koops used his veto and held his superiors shuttle at gun point away from the heavy cruiser.

“My Lord, we have to burn your shuttle to shake of the infestation, you need to gear up in a space suite quickly and enter the flag ship through a free space walk.”

Lord Keras sighted. This was to be expected. At least as a member of the noble cast his subordinates tried honestly saving him from utter peril.

“Master Koops, as embarrassing as it is I will follow your advice. Prepare a full staff meeting so we may discuss what brought this utter defeat upon us.”

...

Twenty minutes later Lord Keras gave a lecture to his staff, his feathers still unclean and his beak shivering from fear.

“As you can see from my recordings the enemy is a kind of insect hive mind. They are highly organized, we have at least found out they have a queen, billion of workers, farmers and warriors. They breed insanely fast and fear no death. They skin is nearly as hard as steel, they are strong enough to lift a thousand times their own weight and they posses a deadly acid they can spray at their targets from afar. In addition their bite can penetrate our best armour.

The most frightening property though is their instinctive ability to cooperate and overwhelm even the largest opponent. While every single one of these critters is only the size of a finger of our mighty warriors they attack by the thousands, swarming the enemy, crossing fortifications, rivers, traps, everything just by using their bodies like bridges, like ladders, like building bricks. They throw their lives away for the slightest advantage and never stop!

Though our elite company of fine soldiers was able to hold out against their onslaught for nearly a week, in the end the lack of supply and the ever growing numbers of the enemies meant their end. If we are talking about lesser security units or unarmed civilians then it always ends with a brutal massacre!

I suggest to glass this world from high orbit even though it once was a valuable garden world. And I suggest to do the same to the worlds of Airodna and the source of this new plague, New Chicago.”

His audience clattered their beaks almost in unison to show their approval.

Only Master Koops scratched his beak against his arm, a sure sign something was gnawing on him.

Valuing the opinion of his old companion the Lord addressed Master Koops

“Master Koops, please speak your mind.”

“Uh, excuse me, my Lord. I already had to embarrass you once today by not letting you land your shuttle…”

“Water under the bridge, I stand with your decision. Please dare to speak trueth to power.”

“The plague started on New Chicago. That is a human world which we received after the Galactic Court decided the border dispute in our favour. It is right at the human border and it is safe to assume they are under attack too. As sour as our relationship became after the court decision, if we work together we could help each other. See, the humans are big and tough but we have the technology. They only live on a dozen worlds, we on a thousand worlds. And even if they aren’t able to help us we own them to help evacuate and protect their few worlds.”

“You always had a soft heart for the big apes. But yes, I think your idea is a strategic valid and morally true one.

To COMMUNICATIONS: Get me a hyper communication channel to Earth, highest priority.

To STRATCOM: Block planetary traffic within 20 light years except for special military movements."

...

Lord Keras just finished his speech to the Chairman of the United Human Nations “…and they even eat our dead! Thousands have died and we have to stop them before they reach denser populated areas.”

The big brown primate, Chairman Mema Addo-Akufo, gazed at him with fear in his eyes.

“Are you sure it is an insect hive mind? We have theorized those might exist and that they are the most dangerous plague possible to imagine.”

“Yes. My own scientific and military staff agrees in the assessment of the danger. We are close to sterilizing the affected worlds and just wanted to hear your opinion about this problem first. As you are close to the infected worlds you might also have suffered losses?”

“No? Not as far as I know of. But I make sure to get you into contact with our recon, military and scientific departments. While I am not an expert into these matters, I am mostly a political place holder, can you send me a simple fact sheet? Some pictures? So I have a face for the enemy?”

“It should arrive in your Galnet-Mail any moment.”

Addo-Akufo browsed through the sheet a moment later. Tilted his head. Then he spoke determined “I think I know the right men you should speak to. Our price is the return of the worlds you took from us.”

...

When his phone rang Enrico Mueller was having a beer while sitting in the back of his van, watching how a slightly yellow gas streamed into the giant plastic tent ahead of him.

“Pest Control Mueller. We are Bug Stompers. If it bites you we can kill it.”

He listened in surprise how an alien bird was telling him about a war of extinction on his worlds. Horrible monster armies overwhelming the best defences by sheer numbers, eating living and dead. That sounded like a job for the military, not for someone catching rats and termites, he wanted nothing to do with that madness. Until he looked through the fact sheet.

“Oh, I see. You have a nasty case of fire ants. Yeah, those are really nasty little critters. How much it would cost to remove the plague? 50 dollars per hour plus expenses. Three planets? Uh, I think I need to call my brothers, that is a bit too much for one man. No, they are easy to handle if you know how to do them. We have millions of their hives all around our planet.

Hello? Did you just faint?”

...

Note from the author: We have nearly a dozen ant nests in our garden. Thanks god only the small black ones. They are still pretty warmongering but mostly we get along well as long as I respect their territory.

“Oh, oh god, you want believe what I just heard from a buddy of mine, this is great, you won’t believe it.”

“Hmm?”

“Those Grek-nel bastards are going to surrender to the Humans at the council today.”

“Humans?”

“Yeah, that new council race.”

“The pink bipedals from Sol?”

“Well, some of ‘em are different colors, but yeah, that’s them.”

“Didn’t know they were at war with the Greks, I really am out of the loop, and to have won against those assholes already, good for them.”

“That’s the great part, they weren’t at war, ya know how every time a new race becomes acknowledged, invited to the council and taken off the protection list. And how the Grek-nel just sweep over and demand tribute or they will use their nasty little bioweapon.”

“Oh, don’t get me started on their death beetles, they let some lose on Tavrin 4, they breed too fast to get rid of easy, and they’re too small to notice till it’s already an infestation. And they are poisonous. Nearly impossible to get rid of without killing everything else in the area, we had to burn half the fields before harvest time, and we’re still not sure if they got out of the quarantine area.”

“Exactly, so the Greks stroll right up to Earth, that’s the human’s prime planet, and transmit the info on their death beetles to some random military institute. Well, the humans there tell them “We’re not the ones in charge of that” and they should talk to this other place and gives the coordinates. So they transmit to the next site: It’s a science building, they thought the Greks where sharing information, and started sending some back. Turns out Earth is positively covered with shit that makes the death beetles look tame, they got versions that fly. It’s insane. Greks get up and leave fast as they could.”

“Wait, they got lots of ‘em?”

“Yeah, it’s freaky, from what I hear only place with more hostile bugs is Telltra, and no one lives there.”

“That’s messed up”

“Yeah, how many species can say their first military victory was achieved without their military.”

Original Broken Link

Mirror Post - Reddit