#Massive Cargo Ship

[lynxfrost13]

Praps if I’m good I’ll post not only about Frau Wasserlinse!! But also the very prestigious and totally not falling apart Vinetan Defense Freighter crew and additional operations

[im-a-goat-in-disguise]

Images of despair [stellaris version]

[thejacketscloset]

Sometimes the autism in me is impressive because during that one part where Soap is admiring the boats on the dock in mw3 made me so unbelievably excited. Like BOAT MENTIONED BOAT MENTIONED!!!! SOAP WANTS TO FISH ON THE BOAT HES JUST LIKE ME FRFR !!!!

[alpha-mag-media]

‘Massive’ cocaine seizure off west coast of Ireland as cops and customs search cargo ship | HSF5773 | 2023-12-28 08:08:01 | December 28, 2023 at 09:08AM

‘Massive’ cocaine seizure off west coast of Ireland as cops and customs search cargo ship | HSF5773 | 2023-12-28 08:08:01 Read More … Check full articles at Source: ALPHA MAG

[glitchyrobo]

Deneb's Dawn

Animation of the Terran Battlecruiser CNS Deneb's Dawn being ensnared by Affini capture vines (Audio warning!)

Whoops apparently I haven't posted this one here yet! I'm still very happy with it!

From early 2023

As always, description, fiction, and attribution under the break! (It's a long one this time, you might want to open this in a new tab)

Video Description

A stylized animation of a terran warship being exhibited; then later ensnared by vines from an unseen affini ship

The video is composed of 3 sections

The 1st features slow camera motions showcasing the ship, the CNS Deneb's Dawn, with associated text about its characteristics appearing on screen. The cut to the next section is abrupt and snappy with the music intensifying & a glitchy effect

The 2nd section is some years later, and the now battle-scarred ship fires lasers vainly in an attempt to ward off incoming vines, some of which hold the ship steady while another pierces through the ship, disabling it as the music reaches its peak. After numerous smaller vines burst from the hull of the ship, the screen glitches to dark blue

After a moment, white glitchy text reading "Signal Lost" appears, along with a Terran Icon above it. Within a few seconds, the text has changed to "Signal Found" in deep pink, along with an affini icon above it

Video Fiction

Excerpt from History of pre-Domestication Terran Warships, §672.3, Late Terran Accord & Pacification Program Era Battlecruisers, authored in 2570 by Eltrin Yne, 47th Bloom, xe/xem, Elly Yne, 26th Floret, et al {Click here to view all}.

Design of the Koncerz-class began in 2533CE, largely at the behest of the heads of the Altair Conglomerate, seeking a vanity warship class to commemorate their would-be heirs; most ships of this class would be named after their many offspring. Indeed, the practice of gigacorporations ‘sponsoring’ Cosmic Navy vessels was fairly common during this period of time.

In the nearly 12 years between its initial conception as a long range heavy artillery cruiser and the first of its class being laid down in 2545, its development quickly spiraled out of control & budget (a common occurrence with Terran military projects). Originally designed to supplement battleships or siege barges as required, the Koncerz-class’ already substantial spaceframe was lengthened to 500 meters with increased armor, medium range weaponry, and point defense lasers systems added alongside the extant superheavy mass drivers.

The frustrated engineers allegedly in charge of the project lodged formal complaints at the sullying of their efficient design but were overruled by the military bronze.

Much to their dismay, various interests in both the The Office of Naval Research, private contractors, and the Altair Conglomerate continued to ‘suggest’ changes to the design, including a ‘luxury’ hab ring, several redesigns of the class’ profile to appear ‘more intimidating’, and most significantly, the removal of ventral superheavy weaponry to be replaced with a semi-modular equipment rack.

Due to the first vessels of this class having already having been laid down by the time this final major modification came in, the engineers had no choice but to strip much of the ventral armor on the forward hull to accommodate this rack.

Capable of holding a variety of payloads, including cargo/fuel, guided weaponry, sensor equipment, or even corvettes & small frigates, the rack finalized the transformation of the Koncerz-class from a specialized heavy cruiser to an overgeneralized battlecruiser.

Outgunned in direct ship-to-ship warfare by most vessels its displacement or bigger, yet still vulnerable on its ventral surface to even medium warships, and only capable of bringing its full firepower to bare in optimal situations, the Koncerz-class had all the makings of a massive naval embarrassment.

However, with the arrival of the Affini Compact in 2551, the vessels of this class found a new lease on life as makeshift mobile bases. The modular rack, previously a liability in ship-to-ship combat, became a valuable method for feralist forces to ferry valuable equipment, ships, and even cargo with military-grade precision. As even the strongest Terran Accord armor schemes had little value against Compact boarding vines and weaponry, the ventral weakness was no more vulnerable than the rest of the vessel.

The first Koncerz-class vessel was the CNS Deneb’s Dawn, which was formerly ordered in 2543, laid down in 2545, launched in 2548, commissioned in 2549, and finally captured by an Affini armada in 2555.

Its slightly unusual naming scheme was the result of its original namesake falling out of favor with the Altair family. (Luckily, her exile had her in the right time & place to be rescued as part of the Terran Cotyledon program, and she now lives under the care of her two loving owners!)

The Deneb’s Dawn began its military service in 2549, spending most of its time relegated to serving as a transport for various dignitaries & corporate spokespeople. However, with the arrival of the Affini Compact in 2551, it was reassigned to the 8th Battlefleet.

It was present for numerous battles against various Compact armadas, avoiding capture often only by virtue of the caution that Compact vessels display in order to avoid feral vessels panicking and behaving even more self destructively.

Following the signing of the Terran Domestication Treaty & subsequent armistice in 2554, the Deneb’s Dawn refused the stand-down order, and aligned itself with the feralist Terran Sovereignty Pact. Following the splintering of that faction later that year, the vessel aligned itself with at least 3 other feralist groups, including the Free Terranist Coalition™, Sol Restoration Force, and the Alderamin Militia.

Infighting, as is common among post-domestication militant feralist factions, resulted in the Deneb’s Dawn receiving various battle damage prior to its capture by Compact forces in 2555. The warship was found alone, unescorted. It was speculated at the time that this may’ve been a diversionary tactic to allow their compatriots time to flee, but examination of the ship, as well as testimony from crew members later indicated that it was, in fact, that the captain of the vessel had been scorned by the leadership of the Alderamin Militia for being insufficiently hard-line. This was confirmed when said leadership was found several days later, alongside their notes of sabotaging the Deneb’s Dawn’s hyperspace drive.

Today, the Deneb’s Dawn has been disarmed, and is now part of the museum fleet in the former Luna orbital shipyards in Sol.

Attribution

Music: Lifelike by AlexiAction

Romanesco font by Astigmatic

Minimal5x7 font by kheftel

Achieve font by Isosceles

My friends, for their support & encouragement 💜

[pretzel-box]

-2- THE WALLS WHICH WILL EAT US

word count: 5,2k

tags: GN!reader, graphic mentions of panic attacks, getting attacked

summary: You get shipped to the Hadal Blackside and start your new mission to get the crystal and Z-13, Sebastian Solace. But it seems like the visitors of the Blackside are getting you first.

The sharp scent of various chemicals invaded your senses the moment you arrived at the dock, where Urbanshade housed their high-tech submarines for underwater expeditions—expeditions much like the one you were about to embark on. The dock itself was a massive, bustling hub, with staff members moving swiftly through the vast hall, each absorbed in their own tasks. Cargo was being transported, machines were being meticulously maintained, and the air was filled with the constant hum of activity, all contributing to the strange, industrial rhythm of the place.

The dock was located within a closed hall, nestled just below water level in one of Urbanshade’s many sprawling facilities. From where you stood, you could see the vast array of technology they had developed, each piece funded by the considerable wealth of people like your father. It was impossible not to feel a sense of awe at the sheer scale of their operations. Urbanshade’s business was far more than you had imagined; mining oil from the ocean depths seemed like it was just a side hustle for them, a mere footnote in their grander, more mysterious endeavors.

As you took in your surroundings, the reality of Urbanshade’s reach began to sink in. The size of the submarines alone was staggering, each one a marvel of engineering, designed to withstand the crushing pressures of the deep sea. Workers in identical uniforms moved like clockwork, each performing their duties with practiced efficiency. The atmosphere was one of cold, calculated precision, a far cry from the chaotic hustle you had expected.

“Hey, over here.” A voice cut through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. A tall man, dressed in the same standard-issue uniform as the others, stood before you. His demeanor was strict, his expression unreadable. He was clearly used to the environment, his posture rigid and commanding. This man was your guide, assigned to escort you through the facility, ensuring you didn’t stray from the carefully laid path Urbanshade had set for you.

“Follow me,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned on his heel and began to walk, expecting you to follow without hesitation.

You fell into step behind him, your mind racing as you tried to absorb everything at once. The guide led you through a series of corridors, each more sterile and unwelcoming than the last. The walls were lined with thick metal plating, a stark reminder of the underwater pressures that lurked just beyond. Occasionally, you caught glimpses of other workers, their faces blank as they passed by, absorbed in their own duties.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Urbanshade was preparing you for. The deep levels of the ocean were a place of mystery, danger, and unimaginable pressure, both physically and mentally. And yet, here you were, about to be plunged into its depths with little more than a vague idea of what awaited you.

The guide finally stopped in front of a heavy, reinforced door. He glanced at you, his expression softening ever so slightly, before pressing a button on the wall. The door slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing the medical station beyond.

"Standard procedure," the guide said, his voice less harsh now, as if trying to offer some semblance of comfort. "They just need to make sure you’re fit for the journey ahead. Nothing to worry about."

You nodded, stepping through the doorway into the sterile, clinical environment of the medical station. The room was starkly lit, with white walls and gleaming medical equipment arranged neatly along the perimeter. A team of doctors and nurses, all dressed in pristine white uniforms, waited for you inside. Their faces were a mix of professionalism and mild curiosity, as though you were just another specimen to be examined before being sent on your way.

As the door closed behind you, sealing you in the room, the reality of your situation began to weigh heavily on you. You had to pass this final checkpoint, a thorough examination to ensure you were physically prepared for the journey ahead before getting the one-way ticket to hell.

The doctors gestured for you to sit on a cold metal chair in the center of the room. You did so, feeling the coolness seep through your clothes as they began their work, checking your vital signs, drawing blood, and performing a series of tests designed to assess your fitness for the perilous journey.

All the while, your mind kept drifting back to the massive submarines and the dark, unknown depths they were built to explore. You couldn’t shake the feeling that once you boarded one of those vessels, there would be no turning back. The only way out was through, and whatever lay ahead in the deep ocean was as vast and unknowable as the abyss itself.

As the medical team finished their assessment, the door slid open again, and your guide reappeared. His expression was as stern as before, but there was a slight nod of approval as he looked at you.

“You’re cleared,” he said simply, stepping aside to let you exit the room. “Now, let’s get you suited up. It’s time.”

With a deep breath, you followed him out of the medical station.

After the medical examination, the guide led you back through the labyrinth of hallways, deeper into the heart of the facility. Your mind raced as you walked, the sterile environment doing little to calm your nerves. You were heading toward something monumental, something that would change the course of your life, but the details were still murky, shrouded in the secrecy of Urbanshade’s operations.

Finally, you arrived at another reinforced door, larger and more imposing than the last. The guide swiped a keycard through a panel, and the door slid open with a deep, resonant hiss. Inside, a small team of technicians was bustling around a large metal chamber—your submarine. The sight of it sent a shiver down your spine. It looks like a giant dark prison that would suffocate you slowly once you step inside.

“Suit up,” the guide instructed, gesturing toward a nearby rack where a diving suit hung waiting for you.

You approached the suit, eyeing it with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. It was sleek, made from a dark, heavy material that felt both flexible and incredibly durable. The suit was designed to withstand the crushing pressures of the deep sea and most of the things that were swimming in the water such as tiny bacteria, and as you ran your fingers over it, you could feel the quality of the suit.

With some help from the technicians, you began the process of donning the suit. They worked with swift efficiency, guiding your arms and legs into the suit’s sleeves, adjusting the fit, and sealing it tight around your body. The suit clung to you like a second skin, the material warming slightly as it activated, responding to your body heat.

Next came the helmet, a heavy, reinforced piece with a full visor that provided a wide field of vision. The technicians lowered it carefully onto your head, locking it into place with a series of metallic clicks. The moment the helmet sealed, your world became slightly muffled, the sounds of the facility fading into a low hum as the suit’s internal systems took over. A heads-up display flickered to life on the visor, showing a stream of data—your vitals, oxygen levels and a myriad of other readings you couldn’t yet decipher.

The last piece of your equipment was a utility belt, which the technicians fastened securely around your waist. The belt was lined with pouches and compartments, each designed to hold the tools you’d need for the mission. You noticed a small pouch containing a syringe—likely the medication to knock out Sebastian. It had the same color as the syringe in Mr.Wiltshires office. Another compartment held the USB stick, its purpose still lingering in your mind and clearly important given its inclusion in your gear. There were other items as well—what looked like a flashlight and a single medkit.

As the final adjustments were made, the guide stepped forward, his expression as unreadable as ever. “This suit will keep you alive down there,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “But it’s not invincible. Be smart, and don’t push your luck.”

You nodded, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. The weight of the suit was beginning to settle in, both physically and mentally. You were about to be sealed inside a metal capsule and sent into the darkest reaches of the ocean, a place where few had ventured and even fewer had returned from. But there was no turning back now.

The guide led you toward the submarine’s entry hatch, which stood open like a gaping maw, waiting to swallow you whole. The technicians handed you a pair of thick gloves and a small pack containing a few rations and basic batteries for the flashlight—just in case.

With everything in place, you took a deep breath and stepped into the submarine. The interior was cramped, with barely enough room to stand upright. Every surface was lined with panels of blinking lights, screens displaying data, and rows of buttons and switches whose functions you could only guess at. It was a far cry from the spacious, sterile halls of the facility above.

The guide climbed in after you, maneuvering with practiced ease in the tight space. He gestured for you to sit in one of the reinforced seats bolted to the floor. You complied, feeling the seat’s harness click into place around your suit. The guide moved to the controls at the front of the vessel, flipping switches and pressing buttons with the confidence of someone who had done this many times before.

“This is it,” he said without looking back at you. “Once we close the hatch, we’ll begin the descent. The sub is fully automated, so you won’t need to do much. Just keep an eye on your vitals, and stay calm.”

The hatch began to close with a heavy clang, the last sliver of light from the outside world disappearing as the metal door sealed shut. A dull thud echoed through the chamber, followed by a series of mechanical whirs and clicks as the submarine’s systems came online.

You felt a slight shift as the vessel detached from its moorings, the faint sensation of movement signaling the start of your journey. The submarine began its slow, steady descent into the depths, the hum of the engines the only sound breaking the silence.

You glanced at the small viewport beside you, watching as the murky waters of the facility’s dock gave way to the inky blackness of the deep sea. The light from the sub’s exterior lamps cut through the darkness, revealing the occasional flicker of marine life darting past. But as you continued to descend, even those fleeting glimpses faded away, leaving you surrounded by a void so absolute it felt like you were sinking into nothingness.

The minutes stretched into what felt like hours as you descended deeper and deeper. The pressure increased with every meter, the submarine creaking and groaning in response. You kept your eyes on the HUD inside your helmet, watching the readings carefully, trying to stay calm.

Suddenly, a voice crackled through the comms, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re reaching the operational depth,” the guide said, his voice sounding distant. “Everything’s looking good. We’ll be in position shortly.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, and took a deep breath to steady yourself. You were about to reach the point of no return, the depth where Urbanshade’s mysteries lay hidden.

As the submarine settled into position, the guide turned toward you, his face illuminated by the dim glow of the controls. “From here on out, you’re on your own,” he said, his tone serious. “Follow your mission, and you’ll be fine. And remember—whatever happens, stay focused. This isn’t just some walk in the park. What you find down here could change everything.”

With that, he pressed a final button, and the submarine’s systems hummed to life in full force. The hatch beside you opened with a loud hiss, revealing a narrow passage leading out into the deep.

It was time. You unbuckled your harness, your gloved hands moving with a new sense of purpose. The small pouch on your belt containing the syringe and USB stick felt heavier than before, a constant reminder of the stakes. You adjusted your gear one last time, ensuring everything was secure.

Then, with one final look back at the guide, you stepped out of the submarine and into the unknown.

The submarine’s departure was swift and final, leaving you standing alone in the small, dimly lit underwater dock. The hatch closed with a deep metallic thud, and the vessel immediately began its descent back into the depths, the sound of the engines fading into the surrounding water until there was nothing but silence. You were left to take in your new surroundings.

The dock itself was smaller and far more utilitarian than the one you had departed from. Heavy cargo boxes were stacked neatly along the walls, each labeled with codes and symbols you couldn’t decipher. Metal shelves held various tools and equipment, their contents slightly askew, as if someone had left in a hurry. A few tables were scattered around, covered with open crates, maps, and other items left behind by whoever had last used this space. Everything had a layer of dust on it, giving the place an eerie, abandoned feel.

As you took a cautious step forward, your boots echoed on the metal floor, breaking the stillness. The air was thick with the scent of saltwater and oil, mingled with a faint metallic tang that made your skin prickle. The lighting was low, casting long shadows that danced across the walls with each flicker of the overhead lamps.

You moved toward one of the tables, scanning its contents. A few scattered documents caught your eye, their pages yellowed and brittle. Most of the text was smudged or faded, but you could make out references to “Navi-Paths” and “Asset Collection,” terms you recognized from your briefing. Whatever had happened here, it was clear that this facility had been operational once—before it was abandoned to the deep.

Suddenly, a crackle of static filled the air, making you jump. After a moment, a voice from Urbanshade HQ cut through the noise, calm and authoritative.

“Welcome to the Hadal Blackside,” the voice began, echoing in the empty dock with an unsettling clarity. “You are now within one of the most classified zones in all of Urbanshade’s operations. Your objective is simple: collect all assets and follow the designated Navi-Path. The resources you gather here are invaluable to our continued efforts, and your success is imperative.”

The voice paused, letting the weight of the words sink in before continuing.

“The Navi-Path has been mapped out for you. Follow it closely. It's the door signs. Straying from the path may result in disorientation, loss of communication, and even death. You are on your own out there, but we expect nothing less than full compliance. Remember: your mission is the priority. All other considerations are secondary.”

The transmission ended abruptly, leaving you alone once again in the oppressive silence of the dock. The weight of their words hung heavy in the air, the enormity of your task settling in. You adjusted the belt strapped around your waist, securing the small pouches that held the few tools you’d been given—some basic equipment, the small syringe for “emergency” use, and the USB stick that would prove vital to your mission.

Steeling yourself, you moved toward the exit, your path uncertain but driven by necessity. The first room beyond the dock was a wide, cavernous space, lit only by a few dimly lights that barely cut through the darkness. The walls were lined with more shelves, some of which had toppled over, spilling their contents onto the floor. Papers, tools, and unidentifiable scraps of metal were strewn everywhere, evidence of some past chaos.

You stepped carefully around the debris, your eyes scanning the room for anything useful. You found a few more documents, some partially legible, others completely ruined by time and moisture. Most were mundane—logs of inventory, maintenance records—but you stuffed a few into your pouch, just in case.

As you moved deeper into the room, your flashlight beam landed on a closed file cabinet in the corner. You approached it cautiously, the handle cold and slightly rusted under your gloved hand. With a bit of effort, you managed to pry it open. Inside, you found a stack of neatly organized files, most of them still in decent condition. You quickly flipped through them, noting the keywords: “Expedition Logs,” “Resource Acquisition,” “Subject Analysis.” These were the assets you were here for. You stuffed as many as you could into your pouch, the weight pressing against your side as you continued your search.

The next room was larger, with a vaulted ceiling that made the space feel even more ominous. Large machines sat dormant along the walls, their purposes unknown but their sheer size intimidating. The sound of dripping water echoed through the chamber, each drop amplified in the silence.

As you moved cautiously through the room, you spotted another item of interest—a small metal case half-hidden under one of the machines. You pulled it out and carefully opened it, revealing a series of USB sticks neatly lined up inside. Each was labeled with codes similar to the ones on the files you’d found. You didn’t know what they contained, but they were clearly important. You took the entire case, securing it in one of your larger pouches.

Suddenly, the lights flickered, sending a jolt of fear through you. You blinked, trying to shake off the unease. The facility was old, after all, and flickering lights were just another sign of its decay—nothing to worry about. At least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself, brushing off the creeping dread that began to settle in.

But then, the sound hit you—an ear-piercing, bone-chilling scream that reverberated through the walls, freezing you in place. It wasn’t human, not by any stretch of the imagination. The sound clawed at your nerves, each second amplifying the terror gnawing at your gut.

Before you could even process what was happening, a massive black cloud of smoke burst into the room, swirling with unnatural speed and intensity. The sight of it sent your mind into a frenzy. This was no ordinary malfunction. Panic gripped you like a vice, your instincts screaming at you to run, to hide, to do anything to escape whatever horror was hurtling toward you.

Without thinking, you bolted toward the nearest hiding spot—an open locker tucked away in the corner of the room. You flung yourself inside, pulling the door shut just as the cloud surged closer, filling the room with darkness and a suffocating sense of dread. You held your breath, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to stay as still and quiet as possible.

Inside the cramped locker, you could hear the creature—or whatever it was—moving through the room, the sounds it made more akin to a swarm than a single entity. It hissed and crackled, its presence oppressive, as if the very air was being sucked out of the space. You could feel the vibrations of its movements through the metal walls of the locker, each shift causing you to tense up even more.

Time seemed to stretch out, every second an agonizing eternity as you waited, hoping that the creature would pass you by. Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts, none of them comforting. What was that thing? Why was it here? And, most terrifying of all—would it find you?

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to quiet your breathing, hoping against hope that the locker would be enough to shield you from whatever nightmare had been unleashed in this forsaken place.

The giant monster rushed past as quickly as it had appeared, leaving you trembling in the confines of the locker. Your chest heaved, desperate for air, but it felt like no oxygen was reaching your lungs. Panic gripped you tightly, each breath coming out as a shallow gasp. Your thoughts spiraled, the terror of what you’d just witnessed crashing over you in waves.

Your hands shook uncontrollably as you fumbled with the helmet of your diving suit, the need to get it off suddenly overwhelming. The locker felt suffocatingly small, the walls pressing in on you from all sides. You could feel the cold metal against your back, your fingers finally finding the latch on the helmet. With a frantic jerk, you ripped it off your head, letting it fall with a clatter inside the cramped space.

Gasping, you sucked in the stale, metallic-tasting air of the locker, but it wasn’t enough. Your heart pounded furiously in your chest, the sound of your own pulse deafening in your ears. It felt like the walls were closing in, squeezing the breath out of your lungs. No matter how much air you took in, it wasn’t enough to calm the storm raging inside you.

Your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes, your mind replaying the sight of that monstrous cloud over and over again. The sheer horror of it, the way it had filled the room with darkness and dread, it was too much to handle. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force the images out of your head, but they wouldn’t go away. The locker felt like a cage, trapping you with your fear, and your thoughts spiraled further out of control.

Your breaths came faster and faster, each one shallower than the last. You tried to steady yourself, to get a grip, but your body wouldn’t listen. You felt like you were drowning in your own panic, every nerve in your body screaming for escape, but there was nowhere to go. The fear had taken over completely, locking you in a vice grip of terror.

For what felt like an eternity, you sat there, struggling to breathe, your body shaking with the intensity of the panic attack. Eventually, the sheer exhaustion began to slow your frantic breaths, but the fear still lingered, clawing at the edges of your mind. You knew you couldn’t stay in the locker forever, but the thought of stepping back out into the darkness, where that thing might still be lurking, was almost too much to bear.

But you also knew you couldn’t stay in this state, trapped in a locker, paralyzed by fear. You forced yourself to take deeper breaths, to focus on the sound of your breathing, the feel of the cold air filling your lungs.

In the end, you couldn’t stay in the locker any longer. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, suffocating you with your own fear. With shaky breaths, you finally gathered the courage to push open the door and step out into the dark, disorienting space. The room was eerily silent, the absence of light making it impossible to see where you were going. You hesitated, trying to get your bearings without crashing into any furniture or walls.

Then it hit you—you had a flashlight. Relief mingled with your lingering panic as you remembered. Quickly, you fumbled for it, plucking it from your belt and flipping it on. The beam cut through the darkness, revealing the room around you. The light danced over scattered documents, overturned furniture, and… a strange, human-shaped hole in the wall.

You blinked, trying to make sense of it. The edges of the hole were jagged, as if something had forced its way out of the wall. Unease prickled at the back of your neck as you stepped closer, the flashlight��s beam trembling in your hand. You leaned in to get a better look, your mind racing with possibilities, none of them good.

Suddenly, a soft, almost imperceptible sound echoed through the hall—a faint shuffling, like something dragging across the floor. You froze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. The sound was close, too close, and it sent a chill down your spine.

You swung the flashlight around, its beam sweeping over the room, desperately searching for the source of the noise. The light caught movement—just a flicker at the edge of the beam, but enough to send your heart racing.

Your breath hitched as you slowly turned toward the direction of the movement. Your flashlight illuminated a figure emerging from the wall itself, its form eerily human but distorted in unsettling ways. The Wall Dweller moved silently, its dark, gaunt shape blending seamlessly with the shadows. It was halfway out of the wall, its empty eyes locked on you with a chilling intensity.

For a moment, you were paralyzed by fear, your body refusing to respond as the Wall Dweller slithered free from the wall. But as the flashlight beam lingered on it, something unexpected happened—the creature froze. Its body stood still against the light, and for a brief second, it seemed almost uncertain.

Then, with a sudden, jerky motion, the Wall Dweller recoiled. It shifted back, retreating toward the open door you came from as if the light had unnerved it. You watched in shock as the creature sprinted back through the hallway, its gaunt figure slipping away into the darkness from which you came. The shuffling sound faded as quickly as it had begun, leaving you alone in the quiet room once more.

You stood there, heart pounding in your chest, flashlight still pointed at the now-empty wall. The encounter had left you rattled, but relief washed over you as you realized the Wall Dweller had fled, seemingly more afraid of you—or perhaps of the light—than you were of it.

Slowly, you lowered the flashlight, trying to steady your breath. The room was silent again, but the tension in the air had lessened. Whatever that thing was, it was gone now.

You took a moment to steady yourself, the flashlight still clutched tightly in your hand. The room was quiet, the Wall Dweller gone, but your nerves were frayed. You couldn’t afford to stay here any longer, not with the darkness pressing in and the uncertainty of what might be lurking nearby. You needed to keep moving.

Cautiously, you stepped out of the room and into the hallway, the beam of your flashlight leading the way. The hall stretched out before you, lined with doors that seemed to go on forever. You chose one at random, the door creaking open as you pushed it with trembling hands. The room beyond was an office, eerily quiet and dimly lit by the emergency lights flickering weakly overhead.

You scanned the room, your eyes falling on several desks cluttered with papers and office supplies. You knew what you were here for—files, documents, anything that might be of value or contain information. Your heart was still racing, but you forced yourself to move forward, sweeping the flashlight over the desks and shelves.

As you approached the nearest desk, you noticed a stack of files haphazardly piled on top. Quickly, you started rifling through them, your eyes scanning the labels and dates. Some of them seemed important, so you grabbed what you could, shoving the files into the small pouch at your waist. The rest of the room yielded more documents, USB sticks, and other bits of data that you added to your growing collection.

The more you found, the more you realized how vital this information might be. But as you continued to search, the lights above you flickered, sending a jolt of fear straight through your chest. You froze, staring at the ceiling as the light stuttered again, threatening to plunge you into darkness.

Panic gripped you. The memory of the Wall Dweller was still fresh in your mind, and the thought of being caught in the dark again was unbearable. Your breath quickened, the room suddenly feeling far too exposed, too open. You needed to get out, and fast.

There was no locker here, nowhere to hide. You glanced around frantically, searching for another exit, another room—anywhere that might offer safety. The lights flickered once more, this time staying off for a fraction too long. It was enough to make your decision.

Without thinking, you bolted from the office, your footsteps echoing loudly in the deserted hallway. You didn't care about the noise, didn't care about anything except getting to a place where you could hide. The hallway seemed endless, but you pushed yourself forward, heart hammering in your chest.

Finally, you spotted another door ahead, slightly ajar. You sprinted towards it, not slowing down until you reached it. Your hand shot out, wrenching the door open as you stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind you.

Panting heavily, you leaned against the door, trying to catch your breath. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of your flashlight, but it felt safer—more enclosed. You aimed the beam around, revealing another small office. This one was more cramped, with just enough space to move around.

Relief washed over you as you noticed a locker in the corner, its metal surface gleaming dully in the light. You wasted no time, crossing the room and throwing open the locker door. It was empty, just big enough for you to fit inside. You clambered in, pulling the door shut behind you as you crouched down, trying to quiet your breathing.

The darkness of the locker felt strangely comforting now, a shield against the unknown. You hugged your knees to your chest, listening intently for any sound outside. But there was nothing—just the pounding of your own heart and the faint hum of the building’s dying lights.

And then a heavy force rushed into the room before smashing itself against the metallic locker, the force pressing a dent into the double doors, making you scream as your space went smaller and smaller. You pushed your shaking legs against the doors with full force, keeping the dent and the monster from squishing you to death but whatever the creature was, wouldn't stop and rammed more against the poor locker that would soon give up.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the relentless force continued to crash against the locker, each impact louder and more violent than the last. The cold metal bent inward with every strike, the sound of creaking steel and the screech of the creature echoing in your ears. The small space grew unbearably tight, the walls closing in as you pushed back with all your might, your legs trembling under the strain. Fear clawed at your throat as you realized the locker wouldn't hold much longer. Desperation surged through you as you searched frantically for any possible escape, knowing that the next impact could be your last.

The relentless assault finally ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. You gasped for breath, your body trembling from the strain and adrenaline. The creature had retreated, its monstrous presence fading into the distance. The metal locker, now warped and twisted, barely provided any protection, but it was over.

Your legs were numb, a dull ache spreading through your entire body. Bruises throbbed on your skin where the locker had pressed into you, and the terror of the encounter left you drained, every ounce of energy spent. As the adrenaline ebbed away, the pain intensified, overwhelming your senses.

With a final, weak breath, your vision blurred, and you slipped into unconsciousness, your body slumped behind the battered double doors.

[whereserpentswalk]

You live on a space station. It's several light years from the nearest star. Even with the best travel possible it would take about ten years to get there. And most stars people go to have even longer travel times.

The station acts as a rest stop between star systems. Mostly for generational ships that are passing through. Though rest stop is a strange thing to say. At this scale, the ships are the size of small cities, and the station is the size of a metropolis, if not in size then in population and function. Ships will dock for a few years, and people will have the chance to come out, of their ships and explore somewhere new, alongside getting new supplies.

It's always exciting whenever a new ship comes along. It's almost always a new culture you're meeting. Useally humans but sometimes something else. You get to find out about an entirely new culture, and live with them, and meet new people. There have been a lot of interesting variations on humanity alone you've met. A civilization that used biotech. Pilgrims on a journey to a planet that probably doesn't exist. A civilization of almost entirely cyborgs. Your ship always ends up with a neighborhood or two populated by every culture that stops by. Some people always choose to move to your station, some people choose to move to the ships from your station, when humans are the most valuable cargo, it's important to do what you can to up your diversity.

And beyond that, it's just nice for both groups to be able to explore eachothers ships when they're attached, getting to see so many new things. It's lonely out between the stars. You're always aware that even while you're in these massive cities that there's still only nothingness beyond you. That you're a small dot of light out in space. Even in the warmest and most cozy spaces you can't help but know that the cold is around you. It's all you've ever known, and all you'll ever know. The one time you met a ship that had been to a planet in living memory they found it disturbing that you only knew this world of floating cities, that you've never seen nature, but to everyone else it's normal. You have a few artificial environments, but for the most part it's just these cities in space, and that's fine for you, you like having people, you like being with the people you're with.

It's strange. Sometimes a ship won't have as many people. Sometimes it'll just be cargo and robots who manage the cargo. Sometimes most of the people will be in hypersleep. Sometimes it'll be a smaller ship with a smaller crew. One time a ship looked like a normal generational ship but it was entirely empty. The ship leadership made sure that one left fast, there was something deeply wrong about that one.

It's always sad when a ship leaves. You know it has to happen but that doesn't make it any less sad. It's something worth grieving for most. You have people who you knew for years who you'll never see again. People leaving forever on both sides. Entire streets and neighborhoods you'll never get to go to again. You'll spend your time with those who you know are going, do what you will for your last days. You'll see parents and children, freinds and lovers, split forever. And when you watch the ships go, you'll wish for some tragedy to turn them around, but there won't be, there won't be...

[jpitha]

New and... Improved?

This is a continuation of the universe in

Voiding the Warranty

Whatever Happened to Lauren Ingram

They Can't Edit All of Us... Can They?

The shipyard was gigantic. Humans always built large, even when they didn't have to. Spindly, long beams reached out through the midnight blue of space, illuminated with harsh shadows by massive lights. When the shipyard was in sunlight sharp double shadows were cast, which caused an optical illusion about how many beams there really were. Well, for humans at least. Most other Coalition species didn't have the same issues with their brains lying to them like the humans did. Peme wondered if that was part of the reason for why they acted the way they did. If you couldn't even believe your own eyes, it makes sense you'd want to verify and experiment and prove everything you saw.

There were only three ships currently under construction in the shipyard. Even if they never built more than two or three ships at a time, the shipyard could support the construction of more than a hundred. When asked why, the Humans would do that annoying half smile they do and say something pointless like "You never know."

Agent Peme stood in the runabout, behind the pilot as she was shuttled to a ship in the rear of the shipyard. It was about Frigate sized - small for humans - but still about the same size as most of the cargo ships Peme used to command before signing on with HIDA. She didn't know what to expect when the human agency extended an offer of employment to her, but with what she had seen, she felt like she couldn't go back to her old life.

They were surprisingly welcoming and she had quickly learned that there were quite a few other non-humans employed by the Human InterDimensional Authority. She even had the card that explained that she could commander any Coalition vessel at any time if she felt that it was necessary for the "dimensional integrity of the Coalition's existence" like all the other Agents. It weighed heavily in her uniform pocket. She still couldn't believe that the Coalition agreed to them.

Her Mentor, Victor Henrick lounged in the passenger seats a few meters back from the pilot. "Come on, Peme, there's no need to loom over the pilot. They know where we're going." He said, smiling. Peme walked back and sat heavily in the seat that was just a touch too small for her - human designed.

"Victor, I don't like it. Why are we all going to see this ship? HIDA hardly ever sends more than one agent, and Dispatch has sent three of us."

As she spoke, Shimmering Heat, one of the other nonhumans in HIDA glanced up from his pad and regarded Peme. "If you read your brief, Peme, you'd know why we're going." Even speaking Belanic, his voice was musical, lilting.

Peme's fur bristled. "I did read the brief, Shimmer. You know what I mean. Why are three of us going - specifically two who have witnessed an Editing and one who probably knows the most about them?"

Victor raised his hands, making a conciliatory gesture. Victor was raised in space, and grew up in a pressure suit. As such, a lot of his speech was peppered with spacer gestures. When you can't read body language, you develop other ways to subtly express things. "Friends, please. Shimmer is right in that the broad strokes of why we are here are in the brief-" Shimmer's crest flicked, like a smug smile "-but Peme is also correct that the true details were left out for security reasons." Peme's fur lowered slightly. "Now." Victor looked down at his pad and touched it a few times. The Pilot raised his right hand without turning to look at them, and unplugged his headset. "We can speak freely. You are correct that there is a reason why you two are coming to see this ship, especially since you are a freshly minted Agent, Peme. You two have witnessed the consequences of when a human tinkers with a FlashWarp drive."

Shimmer's feathers rippled. He was the only person in existence who remembered his human. She had upgraded the FlashWarp drive on his ship and was rewarded with being edited out of reality. Peme's human survived, but only with the help of a HIDA agent who was onboard.

"The ship we're going to tour - the Terms of Service - has been outfitted with a new kind of FTL drive."

Peme stared at Victor, and then out the window at the ship they were approaching, and then back to Victor. "A FlashWarp drive? I thought humans could not use them?"

Victor grinned. "Well, we weren't licensed to use them. No matter who they think are, the owners of the FlashWarp drive can't limit physics - as much as they'd like to. But no, it's not a FlashWarp drive as such. We're calling it a FlipWarp drive. Ideally, it combines the speed of our Flip drive, with the reliability and ease of use of the FlashWarp drive. Most importantly, if it works, We're releasing it to the Coalition, open source. We're going to break their monopoly."

****

Shimmering Heat didn't like The Terms of Service. It had a smell. A sharp, chemical smell, overlaid with some kind of odd artificial floral scent. Shimmer tried to close his nostrils to it, but it didn't really help. He never spent a lot of time on human starships, and had never been on a new one, let alone one that wasn't finished being built; it was unpleasant. It was too bright, the decorations were the wrong color, the floor clanged oddly, and the beds looked uncomfortable.

The three of them received a tour from the acting captain, a tall woman with a no nonsense attitude. She was wearing the same overalls as the rest of the construction crew and the only sign of her rank was some bars on her collar. Shimmer was only mildly interested in what he was being shown; the unpleasantness of the ship was a distraction. It was a ship. The shape of things and the colors might be different, but it still had Environmental systems, still had thrusters, still had crew quarters, still had weapons. Peme - who had only ever been on cargo ships and tramp freighters - was much more impressed with the Human built Naval frigate.

The Captain led them to the command deck. "And here we are, the heart of the TOS, and where you will conduct the shakedown cruise." She turned towards the three of them. "Before I relinquish command, do you have any questions?"

Victor turned to Shimmer and Peme. They locked eyes with him and said nothing. "I don't think so, thank you for your hard work, Captain. I will assume command."

She saluted sharply. "Captain. you have the ship." immediately her demeanor changed. She loosened up and smiled widely. "Glad that's done. Watch out for the hab, the climate still needs to be dialed in, and the grav over in Weapons makes me nauseated. Other than that, we need a half a solar day to button things up, and then we'll leave."

"What about the crew?" Shimmer asked, looking around the command deck. Even though it was a small human ship, it was still larger than most Coalition ships Shimmer had ever been on. Hundreds could live and work here.

"Oh, you'll be receiving a skeleton crew for the shakedown cruise. All HIDA members and contractors if I am not mistaken." she said, looking at Victor. He nodded. "Well then. You have the place to yourself until tomorrow and then the crew will embark."

She left and the command deck felt empty. The new stations, still with plastic on their seats felt impersonal, clinical. Shimmer thought back to the ships he used to operate. They were all many solar cycles old, some generations old. His favorite was new centuries before Peme's people even joined the Coalition. A new ship felt wrong.

True to form, the construction crew finished cleaning and putting paneling and flooring in place, and without any fanfare left the ship, leaving the three of them to it.

****

Victor didn't like the skeleton crew. They gave off an aura of misplace competence. Victor walked around the ship, inspecting in person before departure and watched how they moved, how they worked. Everyone could to the job - that was not in question - but they moved with the robotic precision of people who were digitally trained. He had read all the reports, digital training was equivalent, implanted muscle memory was just as good as natural, et cetera et cetera. They didn't move like a well oiled crew though. He also didn't like how each one was not-so-subtly armed. Shoulder holsters, small of the back holsters, everyone on the skeleton crew carried a gun and - worrying Victor - a knife. The armory was completely stocked as well, and the Capital weapons were completely operational. They didn't even have more than portable rations for the shakedown cruise, but they had enough firepower to take down a quarter of the Coalition. Someone was expecting Trouble and Victor didn't like it.

"Is this related to what I saw on my ship?" Peme asked. They were in a conference room right off the command deck. It was just the three of them and the door was locked. Victor was the captain officially, but he still locked the door behind them.

"It is. We don't know what will happen when we activate the FlipWarp drive. It's not a FlashWarp drive per se, but we did do a little bit of reverse engineering and a slight amount of license violation. Now, humans were specifically prohibited from signing the license agreement, so technically we are not beholden to the agreement, but we don't know how much the license holders care about that. They seem to have it out for us."

"Why is the crew so heavily armed?" Shimmer glanced at the locked door, and a ripped passed through his feathers.

"HIDA ordered it. Everyone has been loaded with skillsofts for how to run the ship, but they're all soliders through and through."

"That explains why the armory and weapons are complete, but we don't even have a kitchen yet." Peme frowned. She didn't know that there wasn't going to be a kitchen and was going to have to live off generic Coalition nutrient bars for the week. There was very little human food she could safely consume. Shimmer was better off, but only slightly. Food was going to be boring for a while.

Victor nodded. "I don't like it either, but this is an order over my head. HIDA thinks that there is going to be Trouble when we activate the drive and wants to be ready."

"But why are we doing this then?" Shimmer flapped his arms once in exasperation. "It seems like we would have been fine to just let the FlashWarp drive be and keep you using your Flip drive. We're inviting trouble, for what?"

"For a few things Shimmer. One, the FlipWarp drive is going to be better - if it works - and we're always trying to shrink interstellar space. Anything we can do to bring the Coalition peoples closer is a net good. Two, we don't like that they have a monopoly on FTL and won't let anyone else even look at it. The prohibition specifically mentions humans, but we have records of other Coalition people's being Edited. It just happened more to us because we tinkered more. Three, humanity in general doesn't like bullies. They're using the FlashWarp drive to artificially limit Coalition Space and stymie growth."

"Humanity doesn't like bullies unless they're the ones bullying." Peme said, her ears twitching.

"Hah, that's fair." Victor said. "But regardless, humanity is doing this, HIDA is at the forefront and you work for HIDA. We're not stopping now." Victor stood. "We're going to depart the shipyard in a few minutes and then run the FlipWarp drive. The rest of the command crew is going to be armed, do you two want a weapon?" Peme and Shimmer blinked in surprise, and Peme's laquered claws slid out of their sheaths just a bit.

"N-No thank you, Victor. I'll stay unarmed." Peme said, sliding her claws back in.

"Actually, yes Victor. Do you have a weapon that I can use?" Shimmer's eyes shone, and his nostril holes in his sharp beak opened more.

"I do, Shimmer; one moment." Victor went over to a cabinet and took out a case. Placing it on the table, he took out a small pistol with an odd grip, designed for Shimmer's claw like hands. There was also a belt that went around his shoulders - Victor showed him how to put it on - and the pistol hung under his left wing/arm. "It's a human design, modified for your use. Let me know how you like it. We are thinking of selling them."

Shimmer scoffed. "Of course you are. Still-" He grasped the pistol in his hands. "-It is comfortable. I'll take some time at the range and let you know how I like it."

Victor unlocked the conference room and the three of them re-entered the command deck. The skeleton crew was in place at their stations as Victor sat in the commander's chair and Peme and Shimmer took up station behind him. "Helm, are we ready to depart?"

"Aye Captain. We have been unmoored from the shipyard and are free floating." The helmsmen was a young human, with a very closely cropped haircut. Peme noticed what Victor had said. Everyone on the skeleton crew looked more like a shock trooper than a ship's crew.

"Take us out of the yard, and then engage the FlipWarp drive then."

"Aye Captain. Destination?"

"Hey Shimmer, any requests?" Victor turned in his chair and grinned wildly. "Wanna go home and show off?"

Shimmer's feathers poofed out in surprise. "S-Sure? I haven't been to our homeworld since I fledged, but... yes, I would like to go there. Set course for Belanium, Helm."

"Aye. Course set. Estimated time of arrival is two human hours."

"Two hours? It's weeks away?" Shimmer said.

"It was weeks away. If all goes well, we'll be there in two hours." Victor winked at Shimmer. "Helm, execute."

****

Peme had Flashed many, many times. It was completely routine. They'd set the course, activate the drive, there would be a prismatic flash of color out the window for the duration of the trip, and then it was just a battle against boredom until they arrived.

This time was different. There was still the prismatic flash, but it was... colored different? It was hard to describe. It felt different. There was also a sensation of motion, that was unusual. Maybe that was the Flip drive part? Still other than the different colors and the feeling of motion, it looked to be - once again - a boring trip. At least it wouldn't take too long.

It seemed like the whole crew exhaled as they soared through Flashspace. Maybe nothing would happen after all. Just as Victor leaned back in his chair and flipped his display out to monitor the systems, there was a noise like tearing cloth and before them... was a being.

Peme recognized them. It was the same bilaterally symmetric type of person she saw before. Two arms, two legs, covered in a prismatic field - one that was colored the way she expected. The being crossed their arms as the rest of the crew drew their weapons and trained the guns on them.

"Really? Guns?" They scoffed. "As if those are going to stop me." They paced across the room as they spoke. "I can't believe you had the temerity to reverse engineer the FlashWarp drive! We warned you not to do it, and you did it anyway. We told you what would happen if you did."

Peme remembered. Last time they did something to annoy the creators of the FlashWarp they had threatened to revoke everyone's license to use the technology, stranding them wherever they were in space.

Victor didn't seem worried. He slowly closed the display he was using, and looked up at the being. "You did not ask permission to board."

"I don't need permission! When you are in Flashspace you are in our realm."

"Technically, we're not in your Flashspace. This is an amalgam of the Flip drive and the FlashWarp drive."

"It's a distinction without a difference! You would not have been able to generate the field without reverse engineering the metacompensator. That is proprietary and you are in violation of the license agreement!"

"Humanity wasn't allowed to sign the license agreement, remember?"

"Humanity is a Coalition species and as such is held to the license agreement previously signed. We do not require every new Coalition species to sign it again." The being pointed at Victor "Do not get clever with me, human. We know about your lawyers and we are not impressed."

"Okay, fair." Victor touched something on his wrist. "Does this impress you then?"

Peme wasn't sure what he did, but what she saw was another prismatic flash and then there was... just a person standing before them. The prismatic field that they were covered in was gone, and they looked much less impressive. They honestly looked... kind of...

"You're human?" Peme's claws slid all the way out as her fur bristled. Shimmer's eyes locked onto the person and his head tilted in a very old way so that his eyes could both see what was in front of them. To their credit, the humans did not waver, their weapons still pointed at the humanlike person in front of them.

"I am not human, and I am frankly insulted that you lumped me in with those primitives!" The being, who looked like a human male said, as he crossed his arms - a very human gesture - and leaned against an empty seat.

"But you look like one." Shimmer pointed out.

"He's right you know. You do look very human." Victor said. He was clearly enjoying this immensely.

They tisked. "Maybe, at one point, deep in our past we might have been human, but we have evolved beyond mere base humanity. We are the next evolution. We are your future."

This time, Victor scoffed. "Next evolution my ass. You are a bunch of humans who found - or stole - some precursor's technology and you're using it to fleece the Coalition and extort wealth from them."

"I never! I cannot believe you are making this accusation of us! We-"

"Peme, do you remember the voice of the FlashWarp being you heard when you prevented your human from being Edited? Does it sound like this person?" Victor turned and looked at Peme, ignoring the - seemingly - human in front of them.

"Yes, they sounded just like this person. Almost identically."

"I thought so. We estimated that there are only a dozen of them or so, and they have only one precursor ship."

"You knew this would happen?" Shimmer's beak is agape.

"We had a hunch. Remember Shimmer, there are levels of secret. There are things that even I don't know in HIDA." This time Victor crossed his arms. "Here's what is going to happen. You're going to go back to your crew, let them know the charade is over, and relocate back to human space. You will turn over your precursor ship and technology to humanity and we will share it with the Coalition. You will disable the tamper prevention on all FlashWarp drives, and will release the Coalition from their contract. If you do this we won't look too hard into the wealth you've extracted from the Coalition."

"And if we refuse?" All pretense dropped, he looked much more human. Peme thought he looked young for a human, younger than Victor at least. His body language was puzzling though. Like he was almost pleased he was figured out.

"If you refuse, then we will continue to reverse engineer FlashWarp, we will disable the tamper prevention ourselves, and we will cut you off from returning to Coalition space. You will be marooned with your ship and your crew."

"L-Let's not be hasty here! There's no need to threaten us with starvation. I'm sure we can come to an agreement." His body language immediately changed, Peme was impressed. He went from confident to worried for his own life in practically no time at all.

"We sure can. Agree to my terms, and Flash back to Sol."

"...Dammit. It was nice while it lasted." The human shrugged. "Okay, we agree. We'll Flash back to Sol and explain everything. No jail time?"

"Probably not."

"Probably?"

"Depends on how you got ahold of the ship in the first place and who you fucked over to keep it."

"Fine." He touched a glassy square on his wrist, frowned, and tapped it again and looked up at Victor.

"Oh, sorry." Victor gestured to one of the soliders. He pressed a few buttons, and the human's prismatic field snapped back into place. With another sound like cloth being torn, he disappeared.

"There we go." Victor stood from his chair and inclined his head towards the door. "Now that's finished, let's go get something to eat."

****

"How did you know he was human?" Shimmer said around his dinner. The three of them were alone in the canteen. Once they arrived at Belanium, Shimmer had signaled that not only did they have a new FTL drive to demonstrate, but that they had a need for takeout. The humans could eat their food, so dinner was brought for everyone. Shimmer attacked his with gusto and even Victor had to admit, it was pretty good, if a bit fishy.

"Like I said, we had a hunch. Given Peme's description of them, and the words and phrases they used, we had an idea who they were."

"And the Precursors?"

"Don't know much about them. We found one station in space we think was theirs and some ruins on an otherwise empty planet. Looks like they had a pretty large territory if were we found their stuff is to be believed."

"And you didn't tell the Coalition?" Peme said, surprised that she wasn't surprised.

"Come on, Peme. You're working for HIDA. We're not unique among Human Authorities. You know how we work. Secrecy is our stock in trade." Victor took a sip of water. The Belanic food was pretty dry.

Shimmer swallowed quickly and gestured with is implement. "What I don't understand is how they set up Flash Incorporated and sold the Coalition FlashWarp technology more than two thousand solar cycles ago. Way before we met humanity."

"They have a time machine." Victor said simply.

Shimmer started coughing. Peme jumped up and thumped his back. He put up a hand, and took a sip of water.

"They do not. That's a fantasy. The math never works." Peme said, firmly.

"It works if you ignore some certain parts of vacuum theory." Victor said carefully. "We know about it."

"You're telling me humanity has a time machine? Shimmer had awe in his voice.

"No, I am very definitely not telling you that." Victor said. "I am saying that we know about the technology, and we surmise that the precursors had it and that the folks with their ship used it to jump back and sell FlashWarp to the Coalition. Regardless-" Victor stood. "We're going to FlipWarp back to Sol and wait for our friends to arrive, and we can write our reports to HIDA." He smiled and patted them on their backs as he walked out. "Nice work, you two. I'm proud to work with you.

[probablyasocialecologist]

In Istanbul, a flotilla of ships is preparing to depart with 5,500 tonnes of aid and around 1,000 medics, lawyers, senior politicians and human rights observers. Its destination: the Gaza Strip. On Sunday, the Gaza Freedom Flotilla will begin making its way to the besieged strip, its fifth voyage in 14 years. While the journey would normally take three to four days, it is expected that the flotilla – initially comprising three vessels, one cargo and two passenger ships, with further vessels expected to join later – could be waylaid by Israeli forces. 

[...]

The flotilla is organised by the Freedom Flotilla Coalition (FFC), which brings together 12 national groups from Canada, Malaysia, Italy, Norway, the US, Sweden, Spain, Turkey, South Africa, New Zealand, the UK and France. Altogether, delegates from over 30 countries will be represented on board. The flotilla’s crew and passengers – among them Che Guevara’s daughter Aleida and Nelson Mandela’s grandson Zwelivelile – will be unarmed. Their peacefulness will not guarantee their safety, however, as the Israeli state has a long and bloody history of targeting humanitarian groups. The flotilla’s first voyage to Gaza in May 2010 was a bloodbath: Israel sent a naval ship to meet it, killing 10 crew members (all of them Turkish, including one Turkish American dual national) and injuring 30. A UN report later found that Israel appeared to have executed at least six people in an “extra-legal, arbitrary and summary” manner; a Turkish state autopsy found that five had been shot in the head at close range.  Israel subsequently apologised to Turkey for the raid and agreed to compensate the bereaved families $20m. Further voyages in 2015, 2016 and 2018 saw Israel seize the FFC’s ships and detain and deport those on board. Israel has also targeted humanitarian workers on land. Earlier this month, the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) killed seven World Central Kitchen (WCK) food aid workers, among them three British citizens, in a drone attack on a marked convoy whose movements had been coordinated with the IDF. An Israeli investigation blamed “grave errors”, a finding WCK rejected.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello Vod'ika, congrats for your followers!!

If possible (in advance sorry for my English) I wanted to ask you a Crosshair x Jedi!Reader (angst with happy ending from Cross view?) in a soulmate au (you can't hurt your soulmate kind of au) where chipped!Crosshair supposelly killed reader (then much much later he founds her again, maybe fallen-scarred or something but not heartshoted dead) (they where crushing each other but tightliped/proud/nothing officially stated)

Noble Maiden Fair

Summary: She was his. And He was hers. They were both just too proud to admit it, even to each other. When the order came out, Crosshair shot her. A blaster blot between her eyes. She fell. She died. Crosshair handled the guilt by staying on the move, by not thinking about it, about her. And then he murders an Imperial Officer and his only option is to run, not to his brothers, who abandoned him, but somewhere else.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x Reader

Word Count: 1849

Prompt: Soulmate AU - Soulmates can't hurt each other

Warnings: Some angst

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thanks! And thank you for your request! I've been bouncing between ideas on this one, and I finally had one that I liked, so I hope you like it too!

“Welcome!” Crosshair frowns at the large Trandoshan man standing just off the landing bay, “It’s been quite some time since we’ve gotten a visitor! Are you the person bringing the seed delivery?”

“Aa, that’s me,” Crosshair replies as he straightens from where he’s checking that his cargo is still in one piece. Honestly, the demotion from soldier to delivery boy annoys him to no end, but it’s better than the alternative. “You’d be the mayor then?”

“Oh, no. Not me.” The Trandoshan says with a laugh, “We’re a bit too small of a community for someone like that. I’m Grrog.”

“I…see.” He doesn’t, not really. But NatBorns have always been weird, “Anyway, where do you want the stuff?”

Grrog gestures to a flat cart near the door, “We’re going to have to make a couple of trips! I hope you’re not on a time crunch.”

Crosshair sighs, “You don’t have any droids?”

“Oh no! Awful things, droids.”

“Of course.” He rips off his work gloves and throws them inside the ship, “I guess we’d better get to work then.”

The Trandoshan looks thrilled and almost bounces over one of the massive pallets of seeds. “Look at it all! Ooh, the farmers will be thrilled!”

“I don’t just have crop seeds. There are also some seedlings for fruit trees. They’re still inside since they’re a bit more delicate.” Crosshair replies as he walks over to the cart and moves it closer to the pallet.

“Perfect! There’s always room for more seedlings!”

“You really are all about this life, aren’t you?” He asks. 

“Oh, yeah. Most of my people are hunters, but, well,” Grrog gestures to himself, and his wide girth, “I’m not made for hunting.” He jokes, “Fruits and Veggies don’t run away at least.”

“Well, there is that.”

“We have a population of a couple hundred people, from all walks of life. We don’t get many new people, though.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. People don’t want to be farmers, y’know.” Grrog hoists a couple of bags over to the cart, and then straightens with a groan, “The AgriCorps used to run everything here, but they were wiped out to the last.”

“That right?”

“They were Jedi, you know.” He shakes his head, “Could work miracles with dying planets. Such a shame.”

Crosshair doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. 

But, for half a second, he sees her. He sees her smile and the way her eyes crinkle when she’s happy. He hears her laugh; loud and bright and unashamed. 

His jaw clenches, and he roughly shoves the memory of her away. He doesn’t want to remember her…or the look of confused disbelief when he shot her. Or the way his name fell from her lips as she fell into the ravine.

Still, even though he doesn’t want to remember, it doesn’t make the ache in his chest go away. Or the guilt that threatens to strangle him. 

“You alright?”

Crosshair is ripped from his guilt at the concern in Grrog’s voice, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He nods, “Sometimes when I think about the Jedi, the grief threatens to overwhelm me too.” He confides, “You’re not alone there, friend.”

“I’m fine.” Crosshair repeats, “Where am I taking this cart?”

Grrog gazes at him thoughtfully, “It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that it’s okay to not be okay, friend.”

Crosshair sighs, “You are incredibly nosy.”

“My wife says that it’s my best feature.”

“I don’t like talking about it. Where am I bringing the cart?” Crosshair bites out.

“Alright, alright. There’s a general store. It’s called General Store.” Grrog says, “The employees there know what to do when you deliver it.”

Crosshair stares at him blankly.

“Ah, right! You’ll go through the spaceport, follow the road until you reach the fountain, and then turn left. The General Store is the first shop on the right. If you see the greenhouses, you’ve gone too far.”

“Alright.” Crosshair pushes the cart through the spaceport, easily side-stepping people. Not that there are many people for him to side-step. Honestly, he’s surprised that this place is big enough to have a spaceport. 

But, then again, they probably sell the excess fruit and vegetables to other planets. 

He pushes the carts through the open doors and stops.

The planet is very green. He should have expected it, it is a farming planet after all. But, for some reason, he wasn’t expecting it to be this green.

For a moment, time slips, and he can hear his kitten’s voice.

“I think, after the war, I’d like to retire.” His kitten says as she absently braids a strand of her hair, her voice soft and thoughtful, little more than a murmur to not wake his brothers.

“Retire?” Crosshair asks, his voice just as quiet, “And what does a Jedi do when they retire?”

She laughs, dropping her braid and resting her chin on the palm of her hand, her eyes glitter with an emotion that Crosshair doesn’t dare name, because naming it would mean that he has to acknowledge it.

“Maybe I’ll become a farmer, move someplace green and alive.”

“You’ll be bored in a week.”

“I think we deserve a little boredom, don’t you?” Her smile is warm and soft, and Crosshair thinks, for a moment, that he would burn the galaxy if it meant that she’d never stop looking at him like that.

With great difficulty, he pushes the memory away.

As much as he’d give anything to go back to that night, with her smiling at him like he hung the stars in the sky for her and her alone. He can’t. 

His kitten is dead.

He killed her.

And the Galaxy is a much darker, and lonelier, place for her absence. 

Crosshair heaves out a sigh and grabs the cart again. He’s not going to stay here. He can’t stay here. All he has to do is deliver the seeds and seedlings, and then he can go somewhere else.

Maybe he’ll move to a desert planet. No green at all.

Not that it’ll help. After all, it won’t change anything. 

He still killed his soulmate.

There’s no coming back from that.

Several hours later, all of the seeds and seedlings are off of his ship, and Crosshair is filling out the last of the paperwork with Grrog. Not to mention, adding some additional fees since he had to unload the ship on his own.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? This place is a lot more welcoming than the rest of the Galaxy.” Grrog offers with a grin.

“I’m sure.”

“You might like farming.”

“I can just about promise you that I won’t.” Crosshair fills the last bit of information on the datapad and then hands it to Grrog, “This looks right?”

“Hm…yep. All of the information is here.” Grrog replies as he scrolls down the information, “Though some of the counts are off, I think. Let me get a count.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes and leans back in the chair, “As you like.”

There’s the sound of a bell behind him as the door to the General Store opens. Grrog beams at the person who just entered, “There you are! We go the seedling shipment in!”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

A voice, soft and female, and so achingly familiar that Crosshair drops the toothpick he’s about to put in his mouth. His head snaps around and he stares, stunned, at the woman standing in the door.

It’s her.

Her hair is longer, braided over her shoulder, and she’s wearing more casual clothes than he’s ever seen her wearing before. 

But it’s still her, his Kitten.

She turns her head slightly and catches sight of him. Her eyes widen, likely just as surprised as he is. Though she doesn’t look afraid, she mostly just looks confused to see him there.

With seeds.

Which, okay, that’s valid.

Grrog vanishes into the back of the shop, and she hesitates, before she turns and walks over to him. 

“Crosshair,” Her voice is soft, and her eyes scan his face. “This is new,” Her fingers, still slightly calloused from years of lightsaber use, brush against the scar on his temple.

He stands and he lightly grips her chin to tilt her head back, “I shot you.” He breathes out.

She meets his gaze evenly, “Yes.”

“You don’t even have a scar.”

She hesitates for a moment, “I figured out what our soul bond is.” She finally says.

Crosshair is silent for a moment, “We can’t hurt each other.”

“No, we can’t.”

He releases her chin, “That’s convenient for us, I suppose.”

“I…” She pauses and then reaches up and presses both of her hands against his cheeks, “We didn’t talk about it. About us. And I know it’s because you were ashamed or—”

“Proud. Not ashamed.” Crosshair corrects, “I was too proud to admit what everyone else already knew. Proud and…a little afraid.”

“Why would you be afraid, Cross?”

“Because. You were so good, Kitten.” He brings his hands to cup her face, “You’re so good and I know you deserve better than me. You always have. Someone as good as you are.”

“I don’t think that’s your choice to make.” She says slowly, thoughtfully. “Not when I’ve been choosing you since the first time we met.”

Crosshair sighs, “You should hate me. I tried to kill you.”

“You didn’t, though.”

Slowly he leans in and bumps his forehead against hers. Crosshair can feel her breath against his face, warm and alive in a way that he never thought that he would feel again.

“I’m sorry.” He says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please—”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Her voice is soft, yet there’s steel underlying her words, “You did nothing wrong. You and your brothers are as much victims of this war as we were.”

“They made us as weapons,” Crosshair says, his voice thick with grief that he’s never had the chance to put into words, “They made us to be weapons against the Jedi.”

“That’s not your fault.” She whispers, “It’s not your fault, and I can’t think of a single Jedi who would blame you for it. Not when they learned the truth.”

Crosshair shudders, and his forehead falls to her shoulder. 

Gentle arms slide around him and brush through his hair. “Come home with me, Crosshair.” Her offer is soft and warm and so, very, tempting. 

Nothing would make him happier than following her home and making her home. But he can’t put her in danger. He can’t.

“The Empire—”

“—will hunt me whether you’re here or not.” She interrupts, “Don’t leave me again, Crosshair. Please?”

Crosshair melts on the spot, “You don’t play fair, Kitten.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t reply. There’s nothing for him to say. So, instead, he pulls her into a kiss. A kiss that’s been a long time coming. It feels like a missing piece of his soul snaps into place, and his arms slide protectively around her.

He’s never going to let her go again. Ever.

[thebisexualdogdad]

Smutober day 8: Smoker (one piece) x Male!reader - Take it out on me

“God damn it! I can't believe they got away,” Smoker shouts, stomping around the cargo deck of the marine ship.

“It's okay Captain, we'll catch the strawhats,” you tell him trying to comfort him after Luffy and his crew narrowly escaped your grasp in loguetown.

“We were so close but that stupid kid got the best of me,” he huffs.

“Smoker,” you say, stopping him in his tracks, “I know you're angry but there's a better way to get your frustration out.”

“And how is that,” he grunts.

“You can take it out on me,” you say bluntly.

Smoker smirks, taking a puff of his cigars and blowing the smoke around you before picking you up with ease, roughly pressing you up against the wall and kissing you sloppily.

“I'm gonna fuck you till I forget about that little brat,” he growls into the kiss.

You're grinding your crotch into Smokers bare abs as he carries you over to a barrel and places you on top of it.

He drops his pants and you take him in your hand, even soft he's huge.

Smoker is grunting and huffing as you jerk him off, his massive cock getting harder by the second.

Fully erect he's now ten inches, maybe even more so you have to use both hands to stroke him as he ravages your neck surely leaving bruises on your skin.

“Take your pants off,” he orders and you quickly kick your shoes off and fling your pants towards a couple of wooden boxes of cargo.

He lifts your legs over his shoulders, giving him better access to your hole, spitting into his hand and lubing his cock before sliding it in.

“Fuck you're cock is so big,” you tell him to feed his ego, “I've never been fucked by someone as big as you.”

Smoker grins proudly, rolling his hips slowly to let you adjust to his girthy cock inside you.

When he starts fucking you properly he enjoys the sight of your cock swinging around, slapping your stomach with pre cum running down the shaft.

Your arms are above your head, tightly gripping the edge of the barrel as he teases you by pulling all the way out and slamming his cock back into you.

“Holy fuck!” You yelp and he does it once more for good measure.

“God you take my cock so well,” he grunts puffing on his cigars again now fucking you at a steady pace.

He's gripping onto your thighs while listening to every sigh and moan you make, you don't know how the barrel under you hasn't broken into pieces the way he's pounding into you.

“Touch yourself for me Y/N,” he demands and you begin to stroke your cock.

Your stomach tightens and string after string of cum shoots out, painting your uniform as you scream his name so loud your fellow marines could definitely hear you.

His thrusts never falter giving you one of the most intense orgasms of your life and to top it off he fills you to the brim when he soon cums too.

“You feel better?” You chuckle, Smoker slowing his movements but keeping his cock deep inside you.

“I do but I'm certainly not done with you yet, first your gonna suck my cock and then I'm gonna bend you over that table over there and fuck you so hard you wont be able to walk right for days,” he smirks.

“Anything for you captain,” you smile.

[catsharky]

Wanted to post these separate from my Art Fight post because I spent too long on these references (really just Fallstreak's tbh) to keep them hidden away on the AF site. Also cause I love these guys and I haven't really talked about them much on here.

So for anyone who was curious about the previous art I posted of these OCs, have some actual information about them!

Nell

Full name Abnell Roache (will also accept 'Nella', but loathes being called 'Nelly'). A health and safety inspector for an interstellar cargo company, Nell becomes stranded on an ocean planet when the ship she's auditing- the ACS Endurance- experiences a catastrophic engine failure and tears itself in two.

Adrift on an endless alien sea with no guarantee of rescue and little emergency food, she has to survive with the help of Bas: an (illegal) AI inhabiting the chassis of her life pod's survival assistant. With her only goals being survival and finding any other survivors, she's unprepared to find herself making humanity's first contact with another sapient species; an alien biologist named Fallstreak who has also found himself trapped on the planet. 

She's thrilled to learn about Fallstreak and his people, as well as teach him as much as she can about humanity, and if she has an immediate, massively obvious crush on the tall faceless alien? Well, the only other person there to complain is Bas. Which he does. A lot.

Bas (Pronounced 'Baz')

An illegal AI inhabiting the chassis of a life pod survival assistant (though to clarify, in this universe all true AI are illegal because they require a human brain scan to be made and that's a legal rights nightmare). After years of only knowing his 'father', Richter (the engineer aboard the Endurance who purchased and programmed him), he boots up to find his home destroyed, his father dead, and himself in the company of a total stranger; Nell. 

He has a lot to deal with: keeping Nell alive, figuring out how to interact with someone other than Richter while also mourning his death, and acting as a middle-man/interpreter between Nell (who he has rapidly developed what seem to be romantic feelings towards) and Fallstreak (an alien biologist who's captured Nell's interest without even knowing what he has). 

And to top it all off? He has a text-to-speech Australian accent.

Fallstreak

An alien biologist with a bio-mechanical body, named after the cloud formation (look up 'Fallstreak holes', they're neat!) that most closely resembled an event that occurred on the day of his birth.

Extremely curious and wants to learn everything about his two new companions, as well as share his knowledge with them. Verbal language is all but entirely unused by his species, however, so the language barrier between Fallstreak and Nell+Bas is a large one. Thanks to Bas' assistance, he's able to understand spoken communication fairly well, and speaks (in very broken sentence structure) by vibrating the membranes in his gill openings, resulting in a voice that sounds somewhat like early English vocaloids; understandable but clearly not a natural voice.

Living a fairly solitary life isn't uncommon for his species, and he hasn't had the opportunity to experience romantic interest before, so when he meets Nell and begins to fall for her, he's more than a little confused (oblivious) about what his emotions are doing. Unfortunately draws some jealous ire from Bas as a result, but is pretty oblivious to the AI's attempted rivalry. 

--

All three of these guys are from a WIP comic called The Rive that I hope to finish some day. I have most of the story figured out, and quite a bit of it scripted and ready to go, I just need to actually draw the damn thing.

[dougielombax]

Holy shit.

The whole bloody thing is in the water!

Got hit by a massive container ship.

Fucking hell.

I hope nobody was on the damn thing when it collapsed.

Look at it!

It’s GONE!

Fuck.

What’s that?

They already changed the wording on its Wikipedia page?

Jesus Christ wikipedia!

You fuckers really do work fast!

Oh my GOD!

I’m not trying to sensationalise this btw.

I just wasn’t expecting it.

I’m not anticipating such incidents like some ghastly disaster-worshipping ghoul with issues.

I just hope nobody was hurt or killed.

I also worry that the conspiracy nuts will try saying it was faked or some crap. Fuck that shit!

[wishjacked]

my webcomic's volume 1 kickstarter ENDS in THREE DAYS!!!!!!!! so I am telling you guys about my comic as frankly as I can HAHAHA!!

Cargo is about smugglers. They live in a version of Florida where, post zombie-apocalypse, the government went INSANE and made everything illegal... like they made "wearing excessive amounts of the color red" a fineable offense I'm not kidding around, EVERYTHING is illegal. More things:

Enter SJ Khan, a woman with a brain that can only invent rube goldberg machine style solutions to her problems. She enlists an old friend to help her start a smuggling company and the two of them round up a crew that's just seeping with soap-opera levels of drama.

This comic is based on a comic I drew a little over 1 decade ago. It's about living with strangers, about what you choose to look at or are allowed to look at, and most importantly it's about watching weird guys doing unpredictable things. It is funny. I am learning how to draw Florida for it, here, look:

I call it an "evil sitcom". Someone once described it as using "hey i'm not 100% sure you can have a main character do that" comedy... and that feels right to me too.

It's an ensemble cast, but the story centers around a team of smugglers. I love this cast so much, they're all so strange and it's so fun to write all their various quirks crashing into each other. Here's a (only slightly outdated) height chart of the entire extended cast.

You know the weird relationships you get with coworkers, where you're forced to be near them and cooperate with them on some level for most of your waking hours regardless of how you feel about them? That's what we're dealing with here. I had a review describe it as "not found family, but found acquaintances" which. Yeah. Exactly. 😂😂

Some characters and relationships you can expect to see in Cargo:

An absolute mess of a man who micromanages his entire crew but especially the FIFTEEN YEAR OLD (!!!!!!) INDENTURED SERVANT (!!!!!!????????!!!!!!!!!!) (HELP HELP HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) (AHHHHHHHH WHY DID I LEAD WITH THIS ONE!!!!!!!)

This old guy who works for them has MASSIVE MASSIVE beef with the boss lady because 10 years ago she framed him for a crime he didn't commit which caused him to be in prison for years and years. But for some reason they still care about each other.

You know that tweet that's like "a job will have you..." wait I can just find the tweet and show you guys. This one

Well anyways. Cargo has that one. It's between a guy who is a medical celebrity because he got the zombie parasite and then got cured and a very nice very violent old lady. They are the ship goofballs they are also probably the two most actively dangerous people here LMAO

This kid who loves his cat and is doing his best to avoid give a single drop of his precious energy to engaging with the rest of these clowns.

One of the characters did something that made my readers say this.

I could go on but this post is so long already. So instead, links.

You can read it online on Comic Fury or Tapas!

And here's my Kickstarter link again!

Here's art I drew of the crew ~8 years ago. A sincere thank you for looking at this post, godspeed and goodnight!

[alpha-mag-media]

‘Massive’ cocaine seizure off west coast of Ireland as cops and customs search cargo ship | December 27, 2023 at 09:08AM

‘Massive’ cocaine seizure off west coast of Ireland as cops and customs search cargo ship Read More … Check full articles at Source: ALPHA MAG