#Solar Panel Survey

[greenforce]

Green Force - The Ultimate Solar Surveyor App for Rapid and Accurate Solar Site Surveys

Discover Green Force, the leading Solar Surveyor app designed for efficient and accurate solar site surveys. Leverage our proprietary technology to optimize workforce deployment, accelerate project pipelines, and enhance your solar journey. Green Force is an essential tool for solar companies and surveyors and is available on Google Play and Apple Store. Download now for streamlined surveys and real-time tracking.

Visit Us: https://www.green-force.co

Contact On: 1800 808 6230

Email: info@green-force.co

[mistressoffandoms]

Edit: thank you to everyone who took the time to respond to this. It has helped out immensely.

Hey, if you have 5 minutes can you please take this survey? It's for a project that I'm working on and I'd love to get some more info about people's interactions with solar panels. Many thanks in advance!!

[conspectie]

Conspect Engineering Surveyors - Snag lists - pre purchase surveys

Welcome to our handy contact form page, send our team a message here to get a snag list quote or pre purchase survey quote. Got a question and not sure if you need an engineer or construction professional, please feel free to ask we are here to help & advise.

[garudsurvey01]

Revolutionizing the Future: Drone Survey & Aerial Inspection

Enhancing Efficiency and Accuracy with Land Survey Drones

When Technology Meets the Ground: A Glimpse into Drone Mine Surveys

Taking Construction to New Heights: The Advantages of Drones for Construction Sites

Unveiling the Power of Solar Panel Drone Inspection

High-Flying Agriculture: How Drones are Transforming the Farming Landscape

Drones, once a distant dream of science fiction, have taken over the skies and revolutionized industries across the board. Among their many applications, drone survey and aerial inspection have emerged as pivotal game-changers. This article will delve into the incredible world of land survey drones, drone mine surveys, drones for construction sites, solar panel drone inspection, and drones for agriculture, shedding light on how these aerial wonders are making significant waves in various sectors.

Land Survey Drone: A New Era in Land Assessment

In the world of land surveying, precision and speed are of the essence. Traditional land surveys, involving manual measurements and labor-intensive techniques, were not only time-consuming but also prone to errors. Enter the era of land survey drones, equipped with cutting-edge technology, and ready to redefine the industry.

Land survey drones employ state-of-the-art GPS and imaging systems to capture high-resolution aerial imagery. This not only expedites the surveying process but also enhances the accuracy of the data collected. The ability to conduct surveys from the sky reduces the need for ground-based measurements, which can be challenging in rugged terrain or densely vegetated areas.

Drone Mine Survey: Safety and Efficiency Combined

The mining industry has embraced the use of drone technology to improve safety, reduce costs, and increase efficiency. Drone mine surveys have become a staple in modern mining operations.

Traditional mine inspections often required workers to enter hazardous areas, putting their lives at risk. With the use of drones, these inspections can be conducted remotely. Drones equipped with specialized sensors can assess the structural integrity of mining sites, identify potential hazards, and even monitor the movement of heavy machinery.

Drones for Construction Sites: A Bird's Eye View of Progress

Construction sites are inherently dynamic, with numerous activities happening simultaneously. Drones have emerged as indispensable tools in monitoring progress, enhancing safety, and ensuring quality control on construction sites.

Drones for construction sites capture aerial imagery and create 3D models of the site, providing project managers with a comprehensive view of the ongoing work. This aerial perspective enables them to identify issues, assess the quality of work, and make informed decisions. Moreover, it enhances safety by allowing for the quick identification of potential hazards.

Solar Panel Drone Inspection: Harnessing the Power of the Sun

As the world embraces sustainable energy sources, the demand for solar energy has surged. With this comes the need for efficient maintenance and inspection of solar panels. Solar panel drone inspection has emerged as a cost-effective and time-efficient solution.

Traditional solar panel inspections involved manual checks that could be labor-intensive and time-consuming. Solar panel drone inspection, on the other hand, can cover vast solar farms in a fraction of the time. Equipped with thermal imaging cameras, these drones can identify malfunctioning panels and areas in need of maintenance quickly. This not only saves time but also ensures that solar energy systems operate at peak efficiency.

Drones for Agriculture: Precision Farming Takes Flight

Agriculture is the backbone of our civilization, and technology is now changing the way we grow our food. Drones for agriculture, often referred to as precision agriculture or smart farming, are taking the industry by storm.

These drones can monitor crop health, identify pest infestations, and even assist in precision crop spraying. By analyzing data collected from drones, farmers can make data-driven decisions to optimize crop yield and reduce the use of pesticides, resulting in a more sustainable and cost-effective farming process.

In conclusion, the utilization of drones in land survey, mine survey, construction, solar panel inspection, and agriculture is a testament to the ever-evolving capabilities of technology. These remarkable machines have transcended the boundaries of traditional methods, bringing efficiency, precision, and safety to various industries. As technology continues to advance, we can expect even more innovative applications for drones, further transforming the way we work and live. Drones are not just a part of the future; they are shaping it in real-time.

[reasonsforhope]

"As solar panels heat up beyond 25°C, their efficiency decreases markedly. Green roofs moderate rooftop temperatures. So we wanted to find out: could green roofs help with the problem of heat reducing the output of solar panels?

Our research compared a “biosolar” green roof — one that combines a solar system with a green roof — and a comparable conventional roof with an equivalent solar system. We measured the impacts on biodiversity and solar output, as well as how the plants coped with having panels installed above them.

The green roof supported much more biodiversity, as one might expect. By reducing average maximum temperatures by about 8°C, it increased solar generation by as much as 107% during peak periods. And while some plant species outperformed others, the vegetation flourished.

These results show we don’t have to choose between a green roof or a solar roof: we can combine the two and reap double the rewards...

How did the panels affect the plants?

In the open areas, we observed minimal changes in the vegetation cover over the study period compared to the initial planted community.

Plant growth was fastest and healthiest in the areas immediately around the solar panels. Several species doubled in coverage. We selected fast-growing vegetation for this section to achieve full coverage of the green roof beds as soon as possible.

The vegetation changed the most in the areas directly below and surrounding the solar panels. The Baby Sun Rose, Aptenia cordifolia, emerged as the dominant plant. It occupied most of the space beneath and surrounding the solar panels, despite having been planted in relatively low densities.

This was surprising: it was not expected the plants would prefer the shaded areas under the panels to the open areas. This shows that shading by solar panels will not prevent the growth of full and healthy roof gardens.

What were the biodiversity impacts?

We used environmental DNA (eDNA) surveys to compare biodiversity on the green roof and conventional roof. Water run-off samples were collected from both roofs and processed on site using portable citizen scientist eDNA sampling equipment to detect traces of DNA shed by the species on the roof.

The eDNA surveys detected a diverse range of species. These included some species (such as algae and fungi) that are not easily detected using other survey methods. The results confirmed the presence of bird species recorded by the cameras but also showed other visiting bird species went undetected by the cameras.

Overall, the green roof supported four times as many species of birds, over seven times as many arthropods such as insects, spiders and millipedes, and twice as many snail and slug species as the conventional roof. There was many times the diversity of microorganisms such as algae and fungi.

Encouragingly, the green roof attracted species unexpected in the city. They included blue-banded bees (Amegilla cingulata) and metallic shield bugs (Scutiphora pedicellata).

How did the green roof alter temperatures?

The green roof reduced surface temperatures by up to 9.63°C for the solar panels and 6.93°C for the roof surfaces. An 8°C reduction in average peak temperature on the green roof would result in substantial heating and cooling energy savings inside the building.

This lowering of temperatures increased the maximum output of the solar panels by 21-107%, depending on the month. Performance modelling indicates an extensive green roof in central Sydney can, on average, produce 4.5% more electricity at any given light level.

These results show we don’t have to choose between a green roof or a solar roof. We can combine them to take advantage of the many benefits of biosolar green roofs.

Biosolar roofs can help get cities to net zero

The next step is to design green roofs and their plantings specifically to enhance biodiversity. Green roofs and other green infrastructure may alter urban wildlife’s activities and could eventually attract non-urban species.

Our green roof also decreased stormwater runoff, removed a range of run-off pollutants and insulated the building from extremes of temperature. A relatively inexpensive system provides all of these services with moderate maintenance and, best of all, zero energy inputs.

Clearly, biosolar green roofs could make major contributions to net-zero cities. And all that’s needed is space that currently has no other use."

-via GoodGoodGood, May 12, 2024

[costapowerindustriespvtltd-blog]

Costa ups and batteries

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[dyaz-stories]

put your arms around me and i'm home || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

summary: In the dead of winter, you have to do a run to go get fuel for your generator. Things go wrong, but fortunately, Hyun-Su is here to save you.

word count: 3.7k

warnings & tags: canon-typical violence, gore, monsters, hyun-su and reader get injured, reader briefly thinks hyun-su is dead, monster!hyun-su makes a brief appearance, hyun-su needs a hug and he gets one!, angst, hurt/comfort, season 2 canon compliant.

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A/N: this can be read on its own, but there is another one-shot, if you're interested! for context, this takes place during season 2. reader and hyun-su know each other from high school and reader runs into hyun-su after the events of the first three episodes. reader also doesn't know that he is a monster/neohuman.

You’re not one to get caught off guard, not usually. You’ve always been cautious, measured, far-sighted. It had been an advantage back in high school, and you’re pretty sure it’s what kept you alive thus far.

Yet, in this new world that you never asked to be a part of, unforeseen complications were the norm. You could plan, and plan, and plan ahead, but here you were, freezing in your living room, because the biting cold of the lasting winter meant that you’d run out of fuel for your small generator, and everything else you used to generate electricity wasn’t functioning the way it should.

If you didn’t want to freeze to death, you had to act, and act quick.

You’d already held out a few more days than was reasonable, hoping that the weather would clear and your solar panels would be useful again, or — but you hadn’t dared to voice that thought — that Hyun-Su would come by, and you could ask for his help. He’d offered before, after all, even if he had always kept you at arm’s length whenever you’d returned the favor.

But things were dire now, and you couldn’t wait any longer, so you’re kneeling in your living-room, preparing yourself for a hazardous trip in the outside, shivering as you do. Things are dangerous enough on a good day, but the snow that’s been continuously falling only makes you dread it more. It swallows sounds, means you’ll leave tracks behind you, and you’ll consume twice as much energy just to move around.

The last thing you pack is a map, which you make sure to keep available, though you hope you won’t need it in between breaks.

You’re heading for a four-stories parking lot, where you hope you’ll find fuel in one of the cars, but that’s not the dangerous part. What’s risky is that monsters love these kinds of places, with all their nooks and crannies, all the dark places to hide, and fear already has your heart beating twice as fast as usual before you’ve even opened your door.

Still, you take a steadying breath, haul the backpack over on your shoulders, and exit the house without making a sound.

Everything is quiet outside. Snow is falling gently, and the sight would be heart-warming, if it wasn’t for all the overturned cars, the gaping hole torn into the building opposite from yours by one of those missiles a few months ago, and the worrying fresh footprints going towards the river. The snow also covers the decomposing bodies, and you can only hope that you don’t accidentally step on one as you start walking.

At least it fills your tracks behind you. By the time you’ve reached the other side of the street, which was one once an impossible task due to how bad traffic you used to be, nothing leads back to your door, and you leave with, at least, the reassurance that home will still be here waiting for you when you come back.

If you come back.

There’s comfort in knowing that you’d planned well, this time, to get to the parking lot. You get to your destination with only expected complications. You spot the monsters before they spot you. You have to reroute twice, but that had been accounted for, and you don’t even have to pull out your map. You reach the building right before noon, and after surveying it for a few minutes, you let yourself in before you can chicken out.

In the dark, you make your way to the first floor, where you will be able to have the greyish light of the day, instead of having to use precious batteries for your flashlight.

It’s not long before you’ve picked out the car, a familial minivan with an untouched baby seat in the back. You try not to think about the people it belonged to as you kneel by the side and prepare to siphon the tank. You make quick work of preparing it, with the tanks and hoses you’d brought for that purpose.

Maybe it’s your confidence that’s to blame for what happens next, or maybe it’s another one of these unforeseeable accidents. Either way, you catch movement from the corner of your eye and you jerk your head back as a reflex, but you’re not fast enough and unnaturally long claws dig into your cheek.

You manage not to scream despite the pain, scramble back and away from the van. There, standing on the roof, is a creature. Though it stands on two legs, there is nothing human about it anymore. The side of its face are sagging and drooping like it’s centuries old, covering where you assume its shoulders would be. It brings its claws to its lips, and your realize with horror that your blood is dripping from them.

Bleeding, in this world, might as well be a death sentence. You don’t bother wasting energy in stopping the tears from spilling from your eyes.

“Younnnnng,” the monster screeches. “Give— meeeeee…”

It at least snaps you out of the stupor, and you grab your bat, unwilling to go down without a fight.

But it’s not much of a fight, not when the scent and the noise are waking up all the other creatures hibernating around here.

You swing wildly as the thing, and manage to send it tumbling back. It’s only a short respite though, considering pain is only ever short lived for them, while blood is dripping down your chin and onto the concrete.

You throw your backpack on your shoulders with trembling hands and grab the first cannister that you’ve filled, abandoning the rest behind to start sprinting towards the exit.

You already know you won’t make it. You know you’ll have to run through the pitch dark ground floor, which is no doubt filled with more of those nightmares, and that the chances you’ll make it out on the other side are slim to none.

But you owe it to yourself fight until the very end.

As it stands, you don’t even make it to the downward slope that leads there. There’s the sound of something charging towards you, and then the— the head, it has to be, of a bull-like thing catches you in the ribs, and sends you flying into a car. Your breath is instantly knocked out of you, your vision goes blurry, your head starts reeling. You’re aware of the thing crashing into a concrete pillar. It at least stays there, struggling to pull itself out, but that’s barely any relief, because soon enough the first creature is calling out to you again, stretching out a skeletal arm towards you.

“Younnnnnng… Give meeeee…”

It kicks you in the ribs, and you roll onto your back, only to be met with the horrifying sight of its arm in the air, claws out and ready, preparing to cut your throat open.

You refuse to close your eyes.

And then, just as you think everything lost, someone steps in between you and the monster, blocking its arm with your very own baseball bat. You stare blankly at the large back, the unkept black hair, as the man forces it to step back and kicks it in the chest.

Then Hyun-Su turns around, and holds his hand out towards you.

He looks nothing like what you’re used to. He’s usually so lost, so hesitant, when he comes to you. Now he’s focused, purposeful, and in many ways, he reminds you of the boy you once knew, the captain of the football team who would without fail lead his team to victory.

“Let’s go,” he urges you, and when you weakly take his hand, he pulls you to your feet effortlessly.

You wheeze as the two of you run to hide behind a car. You press your free hand against your ribs, hoping to lessen the pain — it doesn’t work, of course.

“It’s going to find me,” you mumble to Hyun-Su as he keeps an eye on the thing. “It can— It can smell my blood.”

Hyun-Su’s head snaps towards you, and his expression darkens at the sight of the wound on your cheek. He lifts his hand halfway, as if to touch it, then lets it fall down again.

“You should—” Your voice breaks. “You should go. If it can find me… It’s not the only one.”

A strange expression that you can’t quite decipher passes on his face, before he shakes his head firmly.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

The relief you feel when he says those words is immediately overshadowed by embarrassment. You shouldn’t be happy. He needs to go, or he will die here with you, and what would the point be in that?

“What— What are you even doing here? How—”

You don’t know if he doesn’t answer on purpose, or if he hears a sound that takes his attention away from you.

“Can you run?” he asks you, glancing over the car.

Your body’s going to hurt like hell when the adrenaline wears out, but for now you give him a decided nod.

“Do you trust me?”

You should probably take your time to answer him, actually think about the question.

“Yes,” you answer instead, like it’s a reflex.

He exhales quietly, squeezes your hand in his.

“Then run.”

Then he’s pulling with him, running at full speed towards the open wall of the parking lot. Fear spikes through you. Even though you’re only on the first floor, it’s still too high to land comfortably. That fear is completely erased by the sight that greets you, briefly, of monsters stumbling and climbing all over each other to make their way up from the ground floor. There is a whole swarm of them teeming here already, and you can’t think of any other way to make it out alive — frankly, you have a hard time believing that this will work. But you cling to your faith in Hyun-Su like your life depends on it, because it does, and when he yells for you to jump, you do it without question.

While you’re flailing in the air, you feel him pulling you towards him. Strong arms wrap around you, and keep you caged and safe. You hit the ground brutally, rolling on the floor until you land on top of him.

“Fuck,” you mumble, painfully pushing you onto your elbows. “Hyun-Su, are— are you okay?”

The obvious answer to the question is ‘no’, and yet Hyun-Su doesn’t look worse for wear as he sits up, his eyes instead going over your body to make sure you weren’t too badly injured.

If you shiver when his hands run up and down your arms, it isn’t because of the cold.

“Let’s move,” he says, letting go of you all too quickly.

But, by the time you’re both on your feet, monsters attracted by the smell of your blood have started falling from the parking lot. The two of you sprint, but you’re no match for them and you know it. You regain the tiniest hope when you make it past a corner, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the snow will swallow your smell if you hide well enough — and then something wraps around your ankle.

In a second, you’re torn out of Hyun-Su’s grasp, and when you manage to roll onto your back to see who your assailant is, all you can do is let out an inhumane scream.

This particular monster has eight legs, like a spider, and its somewhat human torso  and head is completed by two long mandibles instead of a jaw. You manage to grab a knife from your pocket, but by the time you can cut its— web, you suppose, it’s charging towards you at full speed, and it’s close, too close for you to even get on your feet before—

When it attacks you, the first thing you see is what you first identify as a black wing, before you realize that it’s made out of a complex mix of flesh, bone and other materials that you can’t quite recognize, instead of feathers.

The wing pushes the creature back, and then Hyun-Su’s back is in front of you once more.

It’s his, you realize, brain awfully slow all of sudden. The wing. It’s attached to his shoulder, and all you can do is stare in confusion and horror. It flutters as he turns around to look at you.

You’re not fully in control when you scramble back, whole body shaking — because of the second near-death experience in ten minutes or because you’re terrified, you don’t know. What you do know is how hurt he looks, and how he turns his head the other way to face the monsters that are still coming after the two of you.

“You should run,” he says, low enough that you could miss it. He sounds hollow again. “Don’t turn around.”

You shake your head quietly, try to form some words. They all fail you. You don’t— you have no clue what’s happening. All that you know is that Hyun-Su is a monster and that he’s just used that to save your life.

The wave of monsters reach him just a few seconds later, before you’ve managed to decide anything. He pushes them back with practiced ease, one by one. You hate that you’re just sitting here, unable to move, as he fights for your life, yet your body just refuses to answer to you, even if you’re begging it to react.

Soon, the spider is the last one standing — or rather, the last one who hasn’t yet decided that you’d make a fairly meager lunch, considering how hard it is to get to you. It keeps attacking, and Hyun-Su keeps pushing it back, again, and again, until the creature manages to ensnare him in its web. Hyun-Su writhes, manages to pull his wing free, but it’s clear that he’s now at a disadvantage, and the mandibles click threateningly as the monster gets closer and closer to him.

Finally, your body agrees to react.

You run.

You don’t go very far though. You find the cannister you’d dropped and then you’re rushing back to throw the gasoline at the creature, half emptying it. The monster wasn’t paying attention to you, too busy trying to bite Hyun-Su’s head off, but its head snaps towards you when the liquid reaches it. It lets out a threatening hiss, which you ignore.

Instead, you find the lighter in your pocket.

Aim.

And throw.

The screams start right away, but it drops Hyun-Su, at least, as it tries to escape the fire.

For a second, you think you’ve made it — you’ve both made it, that is. Hyun-Su pulls himself to his feet. The wing flutters again, slowly starts to retreat back into his body to go back to a human arm.

He looks at you, expression unreadable.

And then one of the spider’s limb pierces through his chest. It’s not even calculated this time — just a movement it’s making as it tries to free itself from the flames that are consuming it.

You hear yourself scream. You don’t remember asking your body to move, this time, but you know that a second later you’re reaching Hyun-Su as he falls to his knees, and your arms are around him while you cradle him, pulling his head into your lap. Tears fall down your cheeks and onto his, as one of your hands tries, and fails, to apply pressure to the gaping wound, even if you know there is no point.

“No,” you beg. “No, no, no, no… Please, please, someone, please…”

You don’t know how many times you say it, how long you stay there. Snow starts to cover both his body and yours, and you realize you have a decision to make, if you don’t want to freeze to death. You just can’t bring yourself to do it.

Until Hyun-Su’s lifeless body arches in your arms with a gasp.

When his eyes open, they’re a clear, cold, uncanny blue.

You don’t dare to do anything then — not to let go of him, not to move away, not to break eye contact. It makes no sense, but you’re afraid that the slightest movement would have him gone again.

Slowly, his lips curve into a smirk, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. You’ve seen him smile, bright and sincere, and more recently, soft and subdued. But this amused, flirtatious smirk, that is completely new.

“You’re still here,” he comments, casually getting up, like nothing happen, like he can’t feel pain, like there isn’t a hole in his chest.

Even his voice is different. There’s a drawl to it, light and lazy, like he has all the time in the world.

“Hyun-Su?” you say, unsure of what’s happening. He was dead a minute ago. Then again, now that he’s breathing again, your brain is able to form the thought that he is a monster. An abnormal one, sure, and you don’t know enough to draw any conclusion, but it could be an explanation.

The smirk widens.

“Close enough,” he answers. “Are you scared?”

You’re not sure. You think you’re too emotionally exhausted to be scared.

“Should I be?” you ask. Maybe you shouldn’t trust this version of him to tell you the truth, and yet— All your senses are telling you that this is still Hyun-Su. And you don’t think he’d do anything to hurt you. Ever.

“It would break him if you got hurt,” not-Hyun-Su says, tilting his head. He lifts his index finger to tilt your head up. “I don’t want him broken.”

“Is he—” You interrupt yourself, unsure of what even is happening right now. But before you can start asking for answers, there is something you need to know. “Is Hyun-Su okay right now?”

He scoffs.

“He’s taking a break,” he replies. “He’s worked hard.” A beat while he seems to think about it. “Also, he thinks you hate him now.”

“I could never hate him,” you say, too easily, because it’s just the truth.

“Well, he is a monster,” not-Hyun-Su says with a shrug. He doesn’t seem to mean it as an insult, just stating a fact. You suppose he’s not wrong, and yet…

“The people I loved all turned into monsters,” you whisper quietly. Your mother, before you even made it home. Your best friend, who begged for death so she wouldn’t hurt others. Your father, who disappeared to protect you. You miss them all so much it sometimes feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest, and you’d give anything to have them back. So, if there is any way that you can still have Hyun-Su… “As long— as long as he’s not trying to kill me, does it really matter?”

The man watches you with interest, tilting his head to the side. It’s interesting. You haven’t been hurt by this world the way others have. Monsters caused death and destruction, but you watched half-monsters doing their very best to avoid hurting others, not unlike what Hyun-Su is doing right now.

The monster in him wonders what it would take, to destroy that ill-placed trust in others around you. The rest of him… is far too intrigued to give in. He grabs your chin between his thumb and his index finger, pulls your face closer to his.

“Doesn’t it?” he echoes your words. “What if I do hurt you?”

You swallow, call back the images of Hyun-Su easily taking out these monsters earlier. But you can’t forget that he’d been doing it to protect you.

“Y–You won’t,” you reply, even if your stutter betrays your lack of confidence.

It’s a leap of faith, but it seems to amuse him.

“For now,” he says, before his eyes roll into his head and Hyun-Su collapses in your arms.

You stumble back, barely manage to keep him up, before he seems to regain some control over his limbs and starts coughing. Even then, you don’t let go of him. You wrap both of your arms around him, head resting against his shoulder, and keep him there, against you.

Hyun-Su remains still for a while, breathing pained and ragged. The snow is still falling, but his body is warm.

“Are you okay?” he whispers with a hoarse voice.

“I am,” you answer. “Thanks to you.”

He lets out a pained sigh.

“Did he— Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head, barely moving away so you can look at him. He doesn’t look at you, keeps his eyes — black again, you note — fixedly in the other direction.

Like he can’t bear to know which emotion is on your face right now.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” you say quietly. “I thought— I thought I’d lost you forever.”

Silence.

“Don’t leave me,” you beg, voice so low and broken you don’t think he’d hear if he wasn’t inches from you.

Hyun-Su’s body starts shaking against yours. Finally, finally, he wraps an arm around your waist, burying his head in your neck, and wet tears roll down your collarbone. In the freezing cold weather, they feel burning hot.

“Don’t hate me,” he begs in response, crying in your arms, fingers digging to the fabric of your clothes in a desperate attempt to keep you there, against him — even if there is no need for that right now.

You wish you could tell him that he just saved your life, that he’s been a guiding light in your cold, dark life this past few months, that you love him more than words can say. But that would take too long, and the situation calls for something shorter, more direct, and just as meaningful.

“You’re the only good thing about this world,” you say instead, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

Under the snow, for long minutes, Hyun-Su holds you like he never wants to let go.

When the two of you eventually detach from each other, he keeps your hand in his the whole walk home.

i hope you liked this installment! i'm probably going to write something much softer next, still for this couple (but it's hyun-su so it's still going to be angsty). if you're enjoying this, please let me know your thoughts, reblog or send in an ask. hearing from readers is so motivating and makes me want to keep writing!

next part

[transhuman-priestess]

A High Place in El-Bariyah

The crew of the Huntington grieves the loss of one of their own, while a malevolent force in a distant corner of the solar system forges its newest weapon.

The highly anticipated continuation of The New Flesh is here.

This story contains graphic violence, sexual content, depictions of surgery, brainwashing, identity death, dismemberment, implied rape, abusive parents, firearms, anti-queer slurs, and healthily moderated but melancholy consumption of alcohol.

As always, this story is for adults 18 years of age or older, it's also the third in an ongoing series. Get caught up before you read it!

Chapter 1: The New Flesh Chapter 2: The Third Law

Remember, if you like it, reblog it, and tell me what you liked! I thrive on feedback and shares. I write this stuff for the joy of sharing it with others. Your reblog puts validation directly into my gay little soul.

January 24, 2253 1800 Earth UTC

The Hildas, 530 million kilometers from Jupiter

7 hours. It had been 7 hours since the Huntington had escaped her assailants, and Chester Silvera, First Mate, hadn’t seen the Captain in 6.

He’d just gotten out of the shower. The entire crew was in shock. Most of them had served with Jenna Powell for years. She was their friend, and despite the frequent clashes between her and Holder, Silvera knew that the crew respected and liked both of them.

Silvera surveyed his quarters, a moderately-sized suite of around 20 square meters, containing a modest bed, a small galley, a lavatory, and the shower he had just vacated. The Huntington’s crew accommodations were far from palatial, but they were home.

Chester walked to his dresser, donned a black band T-shirt (The Carowells, Jovian Tour 2250), khaki shorts, and sneakers. He grabbed his portable radio off the table, clipped the handset to his belt and the remote mic to his collar. It chirped reassuringly as he turned it on.

Keying the mic he said, “This is Silvera, anyone seen the Captain?”

A moment later, Jill Campbell’s voice crackled to life on the speaker. “Door logs say she’s still in her quarters. Her radio’s off, want me to ring her?”

“No, I’ll just walk right over, thank you.”

“No problem.”

He opened the door to the hallway outside. The corridor was well-lit, and lined with short-pile navy blue carpet and fake-wood-grained wall paneling that had probably been quite fashionable 20 years ago, but now gave the ship a hopelessly outdated look. Chester actually quite liked it. The old girl was past her prime, but she had a sense of style, and you had to admire her for that.

Holder’s quarters were 10 meters down the hall, on the same side as Silvera’s, adjacent to the bridge entrance. Between their rooms was a corridor that led to the now-vacated Engineer’s quarters, the mess hall, the rec room, and the crew dormitories. As he passed the hallway, Silvera caught a glimpse of Powell’s door. It was closed, and unadorned. He thought about peering inside, but decided that wasn’t his place, and instead he continued to Holder’s room.

Silvera knocked a syncopated pattern on the Captain’s door, and was greeted with a dull, “Enter.”

He turned the knob and swung the door open to reveal the darkened bedroom beyond. A window faced out towards space, looking aft over the ore holds. The #3 bay was still open, its massive door blocking the view of the engines’ yellow-white exhaust plumes.

The captain was lying in her bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. She hadn’t shaved her face yet today, and her stubble was creeping in. Silvera never liked to say anything, but he always thought it gave Holder a dashing, roguish look. Right now though, she just looked exhausted.

“Can’t sleep?” Silvera asked, casually, as if this were a normal cruise under normal circumstances, and he had not a care in the solar system.

Holder just lay there, still staring at the ceiling. Silvera waited for her response. When none came, he asked, “Mind if I come in?”

“Sure,” was all she said.

He turned the lights on to their lowest setting and closed the door behind him. This was the first time he’d managed to get a good look at the captain’s quarters. She hadn’t yet put up any decorations, but she had managed to situate a small bookshelf, her favorite armchair, and a small table that currently held a laptop terminal.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Silvera joked, “Feels just like home.”

“Chester,” said Holder, without looking at him, “can you fucking not right now?”

Silvera smiled, though Holder didn’t see that. He knew his captain, and he knew he had to get her on her feet to keep her out of trouble. Holder was a problem-solver. She needed dirt on the tires and grease on her hands or she got restless. With the ship moving and no burn scheduled for another 10 days, Silvera had to become that problem.

“Terry, the crew needs to hear something from you,” he said, “They’ve just been through hell. They’ve lost a friend. Now they need a leader.”

“Some fucking leader.” was Holder’s bitter reply.

“You can’t be everywhere at once,” he said, “It’s not your fault Powell didn’t put the tether on.”

“Tell that to the court martial.” the captain said, rolling to face away from him.

“I will,” he said, “and so will the rest of the crew.”

Holder sat up and looked at him, “Are you sure about that? They knew her for years. They met me last month. You don’t have to be a physicist to figure that one out, Chester.”

“The crew will stand by their captain.”

Holder stood now, apparently she’d lay down to sleep in her blue khaki work uniform, “Why? Why will they stand by me? I got Powell killed, Chester. She is dead, because, I fucked up.”

“And how did you do that, hmm?” he asked, “By not breathing down her neck and by treating her like a responsible member of the crew?”

“Chester,” Holder’s voice got louder and she began pacing, “You just told me, right before all of this,” she waved her hands in front of her for emphasis, “that I had to drop my grudge against her. That we’d been butting heads for a month and that I was too hard on her.”

“Terry,” Silvera kept his voice even, “you are not the first Captain to lose a crew member to that crew member’s carelessness.”

“Her carelessness?” Holder said, incredulous, “Chester, I am the Captain, everything on the Huntington is my responsibility, the cargo, the safety of the crew, the integrity of the ship, everything!”

“You are one person.” Silvera could feel his fist clenching

“Who is tasked with maintaining discipline and order,” Holder shot back, “I failed in both. Jenna Powell is dead because I couldn’t control her,” Silvera thought he saw tears in her eyes, “I should have supervised the EVA, I should have checked the suit inventory,” she was shouting now, “I should have turned back and looked for her!”

“And gotten yourself and the rest of the crew killed?”, it was Silvera’s turn to shout now, “With all due respect, shut the fuck up, Theresa!”

Holder was momentarily speechless, incandescent with rage. Finally, she found her voice. “If you ever speak that way to me again, Silvera, I will personally make sure you’re-”

“Yes, yes,” he cut her off, tired of the show, “you’ll personally make sure I’m cleaning out waste reprocessors on Io until I’m old and gray, I’ve heard it before.”

“What is your problem?”

“You! This!” was his response, “Your crew just suffered a trauma and you’re sitting in here feeling sorry for yourself like some first-year cadet when you should be out there, tending to your crew as a captain should.” Holder collapsed into a sitting position on the bed and buried her face in her hands, muttering something Silvera couldn’t quite hear.

“What was that?” Silvera asked.

“I said,” Holder brought her hands away from her face, and Silvera could see the tears lining her cheeks, “That they deserve a better captain than me.”

Chester Silvera had been friends with Holder for half a decade. They’d met on a cargo hauler, the Venture, where Silvera had an engine technician. She’d stayed up helping him study for his command examine, and he’d been her first mate ever since he’d gotten his commission.

“Terry,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “I have served under,” he counted in his head, “4 captains, including you. Now, maybe it’s just my incredibly wise influence,” he paused briefly, and Holder cracked a tiny smile, “but I would say that you are, by far, the best.”

“Yeah, well, that’s just, like, your opinion, man.” Holder said, bashfully.

“I wasn’t finished,” Silvera continued, “I’ve never had a truly bad captain, but the ones who’ve impressed me the most have never been the ones that put on a stone face and hide behind their command. The best captains are always those who suffer alongside the crew, who laugh and cry with them. You need to be out there. They don’t need you to be their rock, they need you to be beside them in the flotsam while they’re adrift, so that when someone spots land, you can lead them back to it.”

They sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, Holder grabbed her radio, keyed it, and said, “This is the captain. We’ve had a bad day, probably the worst any of us has ever had. Let’s all meet in the mess hall at 1930. Drinks on me.”

* * *

Time Unknown

Location Unknown

Jenna wasn’t sure if she was in hell yet. She couldn’t possibly be alive in this state. Every signal her body sent was telling her that she should be dead. Her face felt like it was still on fire, her shoulder was in pieces, and she was pretty sure her rib cage was caved in, too. Every breath was agony. She had long since stopped trying to move any part of her body. Even with concerted effort at stillness, though, new pains danced and bloomed throughout her.

Time was behaving strangely, too. She was dizzy, like she’d had too much to drink. Her stomach felt like it was being twisted on an auger. Through the haze of it all, in the back of her engineer’s brain, she knew that if she wasn’t dead yet, she soon would be. She’d taken at least 50 grays of hard fusion radiation. By all accounts, she should have been dead by now.

And yet, she lived. The thing—for that was all that Jenna could call it—that had taken her from the emptiness of space had carried her over its shoulder to some kind of medical facility. It lay her on a cruel-looking steel table and cut her suit off, injecting her with a syringe of some oily substance that filled her mouth with a rusty taste she couldn’t shake. Even now, what had to be hours later, it remained.

She drifted in and out of consciousness for some time. Each time she woke, her head felt slightly clearer. After what felt like half a day, she woke and found that she could move her neck without feeling the crunching of bones beneath it. How long have I been out?

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than a wave of intense nausea swept over her. Though the pain had dulled slightly, it still felt as if she might shatter when she reflexively rolled onto her side, and wretched. Nothing came out. She braced herself with her right arm and was surprised to find that she could bear weight on it. She marveled at this only a moment before another convulsion gripped her stomach. This time, she threw up. The room was dimly lit with a warm light, but even the yellow glow could not hide the contents of her stomach as it spilled onto the floor.

Blood. Lots of blood. Some clotted, some not. Some was bright red and some was nearly black. Jenna heaved again. More vomit, more blood. Her engineer’s brain chimed in again. Sodium-24.

The deuterium-tritium fusion that drove the Huntington’s main engines took two hydrogen atoms, one with an extra neutron, the other with two, and smashed them together to form helium and heat. The helium atoms, technically they were alpha particles, were of little harm to the human body normally, though the sheer quantity of them in fusion exhaust posed a danger. The real problem, however, was the neutrons produced as a byproduct. It was them, she knew, that would seal her fate.

It was the sort of thing that had captured her imagination as a young boy in Dublin. A particle so small and nonreactive that it could pass right through solid objects. Except sometimes, it didn’t. Sometimes, the neutron would hit an atom’s nucleus square-on, and stick there. The nucleus would become unstable, rippling like a drop of water falling from a cloud, and then it would break apart. Do this to the right substances, and you could generate power, build a bomb, trace the flow of blood through the human brain. Do it to the wrong substances, the ones that made up your body, and you became a bomb in slow-motion, destroying yourself, unable to prevent your own demise.

Much of the sodium in her body had absorbed neutrons, changing from stable sodium-23 to radioactive sodium-24. While fusion exhaust had neutrons and alpha particles, both of which penetrated relatively little, sodium-24 emitted gamma rays, and those gamma rays could pass through almost anything short of lead, including the human body. As they did, they stripped the ends off her chromosomes, shredding her DNA and leaving her cells unable to replicate themselves properly. The result was that she was dissolving. As the fastest-dividing cells in her body reached the end of their lifespans, they died. Rather than being replaced, her organs were simply shutting down.

But it didn’t make sense. She had taken so much radiation she should have died within an hour. Why hadn’t she? She was pondering that question when the thing that had brought her to this room stepped through the door.

Jenna’s head was clearer now and she was better able to absorb the figure’s appearance. It had a human shape. Bipedal, standing about 180cm tall. The basic outline of it implied that it was, or at least, had been, female. Cybernetic prosthetics were not unheard of but this lay outside the extreme end of that. The thing’s joints were covered in layered segments of metal with a dark oxide coating, tubing ran over its limbs. The only skin that Jenna could see was its face. The face was almost human. Dark lines ran as veins underneath the skin, the lips gunmetal gray, as if the blood inside had rotted. There was hair, a short tangled mess of raven black. One of the eyes was distinctly mechanical, a bright, electric blue. The other was green, and looked natural.

“You are awake,” was all the thing said.

Jenna made a dry croaking sound as she tried to speak. After several seconds of halting attempts, she finally found her voice, “How...how am I alive?” It hurt to speak. She thought she might have burns on her larynx from inhaling fire.

“We have been able to repair your DNA to a degree,” the figure replied, “However the process is not sufficient to ensure survival. Do not be afraid. We will make you one with us.”

“Let me die.” Jenna begged.

“You have been selected to become an assimilator unit for the hive.” was the figure’s flat reply.

“It hurts.” Jenna felt tears running down her face, “Please, let me die.”

“Your body will be modified and augmented to assimilate others into drones for the hive.”

“Like…you? No...no...”

“Do not be afraid. Your body will be altered surgically and mechanically. Due to the extensive mechanical and radiation damage your body has endured, most of it will need to be replaced with a synthetic chassis.”

“No...god, please”

“You will remain conscious during this process.”

Jenna tried to scream but all that came out was a dull rasp

“You are afraid now, but you will enjoy it, soon.”

The figure placed an anesthesia mask over Jenna’s face.

“As your external tissue is so damaged,” it said, in that flat, synthetic voice, “we were unable to administer the nanites in the usual manner. Instead we have given you a 10cc intravenous infusion.”

“Please,” Jenna whimpered, “please kill me”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, however, “Usually,” the figure continued, “The surgical procedures would have begun immediately, but the nanites needed time to stabilize your biological processes. We will now begin.”

It grabbed Jenna’s wrists with shocking strength and fixed them to cuffs on the table. She struggled and pulled and twisted, trying to break free, but she wouldn’t have been able to, even with all her strength in her. And she was so tired. Her heart had been racing since the thing had come in, and the adrenaline had worn her down. It wasn’t so much that she resigned herself to whatever happened, she just couldn’t keep up the fight anymore.

Jenna heard a hissing sound come from the mask as the figure reached beneath the table and twisted something. A sharp, sweet chemical aroma curled into her nostrils. As she inhaled, she could feel herself relax. For a moment she almost forgot about her troubles, but her engineer’s brain started sounding alarm bells. They’re drugging you. It had to be that.

“Please,” said the figure, its voice friendlier, more familiar now, “do not resist the gas.”

“I...I don’t,” she croaked out, “I don’t want this.”

“You do not know what it is you want.”

Don’t I? Jenna thought to herself, Maybe, maybe it’s right.

It was like falling into the arms of a lover after a long day at work. Warmth, softness. Jenna’s mind wandered to an encounter she’d had with a young naval officer she met at a Titan bar not that long ago. How her consort’s uniform had glided so effortlessly off as soon as Jenna’s quarters door closed. How her soft fingers had wrapped around Jenna’s cock at the same time she’d suckled at Jenna’s tits.

Jenna realized her pain had subsided greatly. She also noticed that she had an erection.

“Subject arousal maximized,” said the figure beside her. Jenna looked over her again. She was female, decidedly. Broad-shouldered, but delicate. An artisan’s body. How had Jenna failed to see the beauty there before? “Initiating neural reroute.”

The pain quickly came roaring back, different than it had been before. Before, it felt like her body was on fire. Now it felt like tiny teeth were chewing up her insides. She tried to scream but even as she opened her mouth, it subsided, a beautiful warmth replacing it. It was like falling into the softest bed after the most filling meal in the coziest house in the world.

The world took on a brighter, sharper appearance. Jenna could hear people talking, but couldn’t make out any words. Next to her, the figure spoke, “See, isn’t that better?” As she spoke, the woman ran a mechanical hand up Jenna’s leg. Jenna couldn’t help but curl her body up in pleasure. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into the pleasure.

Oh, she thought, I guess you know how to treat a girl.

We have much experience in providing pleasure. Jenna’s eyes shot open. She had heard the woman, not with her ears, but in her head.

The neural transceiver is already functioning? The woman said, You are a promising candidate.

Jenna’s engineer brain was working double-time in thick, deep mud. Neural transceiver?

Jenna could hear the voices again, more clearly now, and realized that they, too, were inside of her. Though every rational fiber of her being screamed to pull away, her curiosity overtook her, and she reached out.

It was like stepping through a door into a crowded amphitheater. Sights, sounds, smells, textures, tastes, movement all seemed to stream into her head from everywhere at once, as if she were both infinite and singular. She flew around the ship, it was smaller than the Huntington. She saw dozens of people and yet felt only one presence. Her mind flicked through them all, letters and numbers appearing with each figure before finally slowing to a stop in the room where she was. The assimilation chamber. Sigma-26 stood above her, warmth on her face. The nascent drone on the table, what had it’s name been?

Deep within Jenna’s mind, a part of her began fighting, kicking, screaming that this was wrong, that there were people out there who missed her. Jill and Karl. Iris and Phoebe. Chester Silvera and Jack Thorton. And Theresa, her captain. Holder hadn’t left Jenna out of spite, or anger. She had been doing her job. She had been trying to keep the others safe and alive.

And yet, the drone now in her head thought, she didn’t even try to save you, did she? She could have tried to scoop you into an ore bay, or given you a few more seconds to make it to the airlock. Instead, she left you out there, adrift. The hive found you. The hive took you in. The hive healed you. Shouldn’t your loyalty lie with them?

Jenna didn’t care. She knew that it wasn’t Holder’s fault. She resisted, trying to pull herself back from the warm light of the Hive. She could feel them working their way into her head. She felt the Hive push into her memories. No, not those!

She was 10, a boy in a flat in Dublin. Her mother has taken her sister, Penny, to the doctor. Her father is asleep, and she’s snuck into Penny’s room. She’s trying on Penny’s dresses when her pa walks in. She’s never seen him so angry.

She was 14, in the boys’ locker room at school. Everyone is showering but she can’t bring herself to take off her shirt. 3 of the other boys corner her. She hides the bruises from her parents.

She was 20, a student at University College Cork, sitting in a doctor’s office. The doctor is writing her a prescription for estrogen. He seems uncomfortable, but says nothing.

She was 21, seeing her family for the first time since starting hormones. Her mother opens the door. She’s confused, but polite. Her father sees her and screams to get out of his house, that he won’t have a faggot for a son. She leaves. It’s the last time she sees her family.

She was 27, on shore leave at Olympus Station, orbiting Mars. She’s leaving a bar, alone, again. After a few minutes of walking, someone hits her hard in the back of the head, knocking her to the ground. The man shoves a chrome handgun in her mouth and says if she makes any sound he’ll blow her tranny brains all over the decking. She thinks about her mother.

She was 28, assigned to MV Huntington, her first posting as chief engineer. The crew are kind to her, but none seek her out. She never grows close to any of them.

She was 30, her new captain wears a nickel-plated .45 on her hip. Jenna’s heart races and suddenly she’s back on Olympus. She runs to her quarters and vomits. The new First Mate knocks on her door. She opens it with tears running down her cheeks. He asks her what’s wrong. She cries for 10 minutes before she can say a word. When she finally speaks, she begs him not to tell the captain. He promises he won’t.

She’s 30. Her face is burning, she’s floating through an abyss, abandoned and alone.

Thinking back on all of these things, the last bit of Jenna Powell, the part that was fighting and screaming for her humanity, grew weary. She had never desired power, or money, or the secrets of the universe. The only thing she’d ever wanted was home. She’d never had it.

The last part of her let go of the cliff it clung to. It fell, backwards, through an infinite abyss. And where it had been, only the drone remained.

“I am a drone of the hive.” she said, “Shape me to a razor’s edge.”

* * *

1930 Earth UTC

MV Huntington mess hall

Captain Theresa Holder stood just outside the entrance to the mess hall. The crew was seated in 2 rows at the long table, nine on a side. Chester was sitting on the left side nearest the empty chair at the head.

The Captain had not told the crew to wear anything special. She didn’t like the formality, and the crew, in turn, had donned their ragtag Sunday best. Jill Campbell wore a navy blue polo. Karl Miller had tied his hair, normally past his shoulders, into a tight bun. Iris Owens was actually wearing a dress. A bright, neon-pink dress with a skull printed on the front, but a dress nonetheless.

Holder, for her part, was wearing her blue dress uniform. Deep navy wool with brass toggles, her captain’s pips on her shoulders. The Civil Navy did not award medals to be worn with dress uniforms, and so on her left breast was a patch that simply said “HOLDER” in light grey letters above the embroidered silhouette of a Shinkelobwe-class ship.

As she entered the hall, Silvera stood, “Captain on deck!” he barked. The crew stood with him. Holder stopped half a meter beyond the threshold. Funerals at sea were one of the times that regulation permitted her to wear the pistol strapped to her hip. Despite this, she made a show, while the crew watched, of removing the belt and hanging it on a hook next to the door. She pulled the pistol from its worn leather holster, and racked the slide back. She had not loaded it prior, and so manually locked it open before replacing it in the belt and turning to the crew. “At ease,” she said, and the crew sat.

She walked, not to the head of the table, but to the foot. She remained standing, and spoke.

“We are here, tonight, our number one too few,” she began, “We have lost our colleague and friend, Genevieve Powell.” She paused, she hadn’t written anything down and was struggling to remember the bits she’d thrown together in her mind as she’d shaved and showered.

“Look,” she said, dropping the air of pretense she’d held before, “Nobody comes out here expecting to die. We didn’t join a combat fleet. We didn’t sign up to be shot at or blow up troop depots or raid supply outposts. We’re miners.”

She looked around at the crew a moment before continuing, “And miners die. It’s been happening ever since humans started digging holes in the ground. Tunnel collapses, methane explosions, tidal shifts. But what happened today, that’s not something, I think, that any of us expected.

“Jenna and I didn’t exactly get along. It feels a bit ghoulish to be up here, praising her, to tell you the truth. Like I’m taking credit for something I didn’t earn. But I need you all to hear this. What happened today, it’s my responsibility. You all performed admirably in a situation that none of us was prepared for. This morning, you were asteroid miners. This evening, you’re heroes, all of you. None more so than the woman who should, by all rights, be sitting at the head of this table.”

Holder gestured in the direction of the empty place setting, “Jenna Powell died trying to get you all to safety. When you tell your friends and families about today, don’t sing praises of your captain. Heap your praise on Jenna Powell, whose loyalty and courage cannot be disputed. Chester, the bottle.”

Silvera stood, grabbing a bottle of whiskey that he had placed on the floor next to his chair. He walked towards Holder, and handed her the thick, ornate glass vessel.

Holder broke the seal and uncorked the bottle. She walked around the table, gently pouring a finger of the amber liquid into each crew member’s glass. When all had been served, she poured herself a glass, and holding it in her left hand, raised it. “To Jenna.”

“To Jenna,” the crew replied, smiles and tears all around, and drank.

After downing her glass, Holder placed it on the table and picked up the bottle. She held it high and said, again, “To Jenna.”

“To Jenna!” the crew said once more.

And with that, Captain Theresa Holder silently drained the rest of the bottle out onto the floor of the mess.

Timecode Error: Format Not Recognized

Hive Interdictor K-14

The drone lay on the table, no longer restrained. Her tired flesh would soon be discarded, replaced by metal, composite, and plastics.

Sigma-26 stood above her, “The radiation has severely damaged your body,” she said to the new drone, “your augmentations will be rather more extensive than most.”

The new drone silently confirmed receipt of this information. 26 began hooking life support tubes into the new drone’s neck. The plan was already clear in her mind. She was eager for it, eager to leave behind the flesh that had confined her and become one with the hive. To feel the electricity run through her wires and hear the thrum of motors and pumps.

26 approached, pulling down an armature from the ceiling that held a large band saw. Wordlessly, she turned it on, and began lowering it towards the new drone’s hips. The blade bit into the damaged flesh of her right leg first, right where the femur met the ball of the hip.

The new drone heard the hive through the wire, It is not clear yet how much of your body will need replacing, it said, the process will proceed in stages to ensure stability.

The blade ground through the new drone’s leg, spitting bits of meat out to the side. As it struck bone the motor bogged down slightly, and the drone felt a high-pitched vibration through her entire being. Waves of pleasure overtook her, the ecstasy of death and rebirth. The nanites in her system worked to seal off the femoral artery and other blood vessels, protecting the brain from losing its precious supply of oxygen. The external life support systems were not yet needed, but that time would come soon.

26 removed the severed limb from the table and began amputating the other leg. Another fine mist of gore sprayed out. It felt so good, the new drone felt itself grow hard as the last bit of skin was severed.

In order to assess tissue damage, the hive spoke again, we will need to access your abdominal cavity. The life support systems will take over now.

Wordlessly, 26 plunged a scalpel into the new drone’s abdomen, just above the pubic bone. She worked it around to the right hip, then back and down almost to the table. She turned then and cut upwards, under and around the lower segment of the rib cage. The new drone’s cock was nearly bursting now, and she gave in, releasing herself, firing juices all over her stomach.

When the scalpel had circumnavigated the new drone’s belly, 26 reached in just under the sternum, and peeled the skin back. It pulled and twisted and sucked, a mass of skin, fat, and muscle a few centimeters thick. It, too, was tossed aside. Another drone came in the door and retrieved the severed legs and the skin flap, whisking them away to a reprocessing terminal.

26 examined the new drone’s organs. The new drone could not see them, but could hear the hive as it wordlessly assessed the situation. The radiation damage was too severe. Her body, even with most of the skin and organs removed, was too damaged to remain.

Full submaxillial amputation necessary, the hive declared.

26 grabbed a port with several needles on the end of various bores. She gently cupped the new drone’s head in one hand, lifting it up, before gently pushing the cable in to the base of the skull. Nanites in the port flooded in, connecting themselves to nerves, building microducts to carry oxygenated blood to the brain after the next step.

When the connection was complete, 26 reached into the open abdominal cavity and began paring out organs. She started with the bladder and intestines. The new drone watched as meters of glistening tubes were removed from her. She could feel herself becoming lighter. The stomach came next, along with the pancreas. Each cut was like an orgasm in and of itself. A blast of pleasure that washed over the new drone like fire consuming kindling.

Her liver and lungs were removed. The new drone could feel her brain stem panicking, trying to force her to breathe with lungs that could not draw air. It was driving her mad, she could feel pressure building up behind her genitals again, and once more she fired off, her glistening seed spurting into the now-empty cavity.

At last, all that was left was her beating heart. It was pounding so fast, and her body was so much lighter now, that she actually thought she might be popping off the operating table under the power of its palpitations. The new drone met 26’s eyes as the latter reached for the band saw. 26 switched the tool on, its blade accelerating to full speed almost instantly. In anticipation, the new drone opened her mouth wide.

26 brought the saw down between the new drone’s jaws. It first caught her cheeks, tearing into them and spraying blood inside her mouth and out the side. She could taste it, the hot, metallic taste of her own body, the last thing she would ever taste. As the blade continued downward it met her mandible, the blade shrieking inside the new drone’s head. It passed out the back side of the bone and immediately dug into the drone’s throat. Blood spurted down it. The pleasure of it all was overwhelming. Finally, 26 angled the blade to pass up through the top of the spinal column, just below the brain stem.

As the blade exited at the end, the new drone felt her body disappear. A nuclear bomb of pleasure went off in her, her eyes rolling back in her skull. The few muscles that remained, as well as the stumps of mandible that had not yet been removed thrashed wildly, for 12 minutes and 22 seconds. When the last wave of orgasm subsided, the new drone opened her eyes.

26 was standing above her, smiling. She felt her hivemate grasp her on either side, and lift her up. It was a curious sensation. She felt so light, so free. Wordlessly, 26 strode over to a person-sized case standing in the corner of the room.

Behold, said the hive, your new form.

The mechanical body was slightly taller than the new drone’s old one. It was sturdier too, with a more muscular look. On top of the neck sat a mechanical mandible. There was no skin, that would be artificially grown over it after assembly. 26 carefully placed the new drone atop the stack, and, using a scalpel, cut away the last bits of her original jawbone.

The artificial mandible responded without command, screwing into the joint sockets on her skull and connecting artificial muscles to mechanical ones. Soon, the drone could feel small actuators gripping the blood vessels inside her and making permanent connections. 26 stood back and watched the process. Finally, she reached behind the new drone and removed the life support tube from the plug. The new drone became momentarily dizzy during the changeover, but 26 was quick to connect the body’s hookup to the port on the skull.

Step forward, came the voice of the hive.

The new drone complied. Wordlessly, she turned around, facing herself away from 26, who began fixing armor plates to the back of her skull, covering up the sensitive port. When 26 was finished, the new drone turned back to face her. She stared down at her new hands, sleek and metal. She flexed her fingers, feeling the power of them. A full diagnostic ran automatically, the results appearing in the corner of her vision, confirming all systems were functioning as designed.

“What is your designation?” 26 asked the new drone.

The new drone looked at her, and said, “I am Sigma-38, assimilator unit.”

Welcome, Sigma-38, came the voice of the hive, we will do great things together.

[conspectie]

Conspect Engineering - Surveyors - Snag lists - pre purchase surveys

New home snag lists & Pre purchase surveys Buying a new home or house is not an everyday purchase for most of us, even when you find 'the perfect' property that ticks all the boxes on your must have list & of course within budget! New home snag list inspections, snagging of new build and pre purchase surveys of existing buildings both residential and commercial are paramount when making an informed decision.

[probablyasocialecologist]

According to a new study, led by Lancaster University scientists in collaboration with the University of Reading, well-managed solar parks that feature solar panels and vegetation could boost pollinator populations and biodiversity. The researchers published their findings in the journal Ecological Solutions and Evidence. The team used field observations and landcover data to track the impact that solar park plants have on pollinators. They surveyed 15 solar park sites around England, noting plant resources and the surrounding landscape characteristics, such as any wooded areas nearby or whether surrounding landscapes were well-connected or disconnected.

[...]

According to the study, solar parks were especially beneficial to pollinators in areas with disconnected landscapes. The authors noted that this could be because areas with well-connected landscapes rich in hedgerows and trees could be more attractive to pollinators because they offer a wider range of resources. 

[gayhenrycreel]

okay i filled out a google doc survey of aro experiences in the queer community and at the end i kinda went on a commie rant, so this is it copy pasted. (yes my mutuals, im aware as i reread this that this sounds like the blorbos 4.07 monologue)

i want people to know that no one should ever be in a relationship just because they want to be considered normal. alloros included. the relationship hierarchy hurts everyone.

hierarchy has always been the problem. its time that people start realising that we are all equals, and the idea of any particular thing being inherently better than another is the basis for amatonormativity, homophobia, racism, transphobia, misogyny, eugenics, and ultimately fascism. "superiority" does not exist.

even the natural world is negatively affected by human ideas of hierarchy. conservation efforts are for animals, occasionally plants, and never for fungi. fungi are barely even researched properly compared to other clades. how many fungi have gone extinct without anyone knowing, because no one cares?

this affects humans directly. penicillin comes from a fungus. hallucinigenic mushrooms can treat anxiety, depression, adhd, and even ptsd. lions mane contains biochemicals that prevent cell death, which means (and research is ongoing) it could slow aging, lead to longer lives, and quite significantly, prevent dementia.

those are just known fungi. imagine how many are out there that could save lives that are endangered and dying, but no one cares to save them because they are small and not very noticeable. theres an antioxidant thats exclusively found in fungi. that means it too could prevent cell damage, such as those that cause cancer.

if i were to get into human prejudice this would go on forever. hierarchy kills. it destroys entire species, cultures, lives. the solution to defeating amatonormativity is to remove hierarchy.

this would also solve infinite other problems. we could no longer have to work our asses off for the profit of billionares. we would use resources when we need them, not for some hypothetical world where they might be bought on mass. no one needs a billion iphones. the slaves who make them certainly dont.

things should be produced when they are actually in demand, not just so elon can get money he will never use. that money could go to education, science, sustainable energy, medicine, conservation, and literally billions of people who are starving because elon and bezos want to think about their sci fi fantasys that they do not allow to become reality by not bloody paying their slaves, as well as hoarding money that could be used by places that could legitimately get people to mars like nasa.

elon works closely with nasa, but nasa cant afford to pay their own scientists. many of nasas workers hate spacex. one even quit over it. there are so many people who could help humanity, who could invent cures for AIDS, vaccines for deadly diseases, better solar panels, solutions for space junk, more efficient farming, more nutritious native plants that people have harvested for centuries before colonizers decided nutrient poor cabbage is better than the vitamin rich indigenous vegetables.

like seriously, there are so many plants that indigenous societies have been eating for thousands of years that the world just doesn't know about anymore.

the wider queer community could do a lot for arospecs by taking off the hierarchy glasses. we all need to take off the hierarchy glasses. its killing the world.

[reasonsforhope]

"To change our relationship to the physical world – to end an era of profligate consumption by the few that has consequences for the many – means changing how we think about pretty much everything: wealth, power, joy, time, space, nature, value, what constitutes a good life, what matters, how change itself happens. As the climate journalist Mary Heglar writes, we are not short on innovation. “We’ve got loads of ideas for solar panels and microgrids. While we have all of these pieces, we don’t have a picture of how they come together to build a new world. For too long, the climate fight has been limited to scientists and policy experts. While we need their skills, we also need so much more. When I survey the field, it’s clear that what we desperately need is more artists.”" -Rebecca Solnit. Emphasis added.

Artists are so so important. I've had people tell me they feel bad because, as an artist, they don't think they can contribute anything worthwhile to climate change. They're wrong.

We cannot build a future we cannot imagine. Artists are so important. Artists show us what could be - what we could be