Showing posts with label HFY. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HFY. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 20, 2017

[meta] Point me at stories in the "crash landing" genre. HFY

The recent and excellent story The Jack reminded me of The Delights of Rax, and other stories where a downed ship leads to humans and xenos on an unknown planet and they need to survive.

I would like to read more stories like those, with that "getting to know each other while surviving" feel.

I love the versions with the initial distrust like The Jack and Rax, but there's other ways for the story to go, like The First Human that punches you with feels at the end. (not that Rax doesn't either)

 

In addition to whatever y'all recommend, there are two stories that I can't figure out what combo to google to pull them up. Both are loosely in the crash landing genre iirc.

First is where xenos crash on/near a human farmer's (or just lives alone?) property, are 8-9 feet tall, insectoid, and he ends up clearing out his refrigerator of the food they like to eat. (leaving him with just greens or just meat?)

Second had 3-5 humans and one? xeno and they'd either crashed, or missed a landing or something. The party had either electronics or knowledge to know which direction to go towards the nearest city, and the landscape was ?Ireland? or some nordic/fjord kinda place? In the end, the xeno was relieved to return to civilization, but the humans thought it was all good fun and would even do it again, minus the mishap that triggered it. The author I think used a phrase that described that kind of camping/adventure and titled the post with it. Bush something, something bush?

 

sorry if that's all really vague.. memory is a fickle bitch sometimes.



Submitted December 21, 2017 at 02:51AM by Dr_Fix http://ift.tt/2DgCA25 HFY

Tuesday, December 5, 2017

[OC][MERG] Kathekon Chapter 4 HFY

Here we go again. This chapter was quite a bit easier to write and I hope everyone enjoys reading it.

I'm looking forward to seeing where this goes along with everyone else.

Please let me know what you think of my work, and without further ado, I present you.

Kathekon Chapter 4


Commodore Baptiste watched as all six battleships in his fleet took positions around the last two surviving enemy ships. Each battleship was scanning the ships as carefully as possible and ensuring every single weapon on the ship was reduced to molten slag. The ships drew closer all at once, both to ensure as many marine boarding pods would reach the ships at once as possible and to confuse any enemy gunners with the problem of which ship to fire upon with any weapons they may still have left.

Beyond what was already being done by his fleet he would have little actual command over the marines as they proceeded with taking the enemy ships. The officer responsible for that would be a major of the marines who was aboard the Pakriti. Jean-Luc would only be an observer of the marines helmet cams and general systems to ensure everything would be both above the board and to ensure the fleet could immediately react to any threat the ships might pose. The captains of each of the battleships also had the authority to act autonomously to preserve and protect their ships, crews and marines. Currently his largest concern was wondering if the Denebians were the kind who would make their ships reactors go critical to try and take the battleships around them out.

“Dignitary Vatia.” He turned slightly to look at her and gestured to the open space next to his chair. “I was wondering if you could help answer some questions on what the Denebians might do next.” He glanced at the screens, the marines hadn't launched yet, before turning his attention back to the weaver dignitary as she carefully approached him, she seemed unsure of her footing on the bridge for some reason. He also took note of how even in the rather plain light of the bridge her silk clothes, he was certain she had woven them herself, shimmered like high class finery. While it looked impressive he couldn't help but feel it looked slightly out of place, it might also make it harder for her to get along with the crew. He would talk with her about that later.

When she was next to him and he broke his stare, hoping she hadn't found it rude, to turn back to the screens and gestured at them while she remained silent. “Your people have more experience with the Denebians than we do.” He looked at the two ships on one of the screens, their engines and armor pockmarked by the destruction wrought on them.

“What exactly do you want to know?” She asked, he found her voice to be rather soothing after the hectic and stress of the combat. Even in the current stress of the upcoming boarding action.

“How they are likely to act once our marines breach their ship. Will they fight? Surrender perhaps? Detonate their own ships to try and take us with them? Commit suicide to avoid being taken captive?”

She seemed to consider for a moment, sliding her lower arms over her cephalothorax while crossing her upper arms over her chest. He wondered if she had subconsciously picked up that habit from her interactions with humans. “They are likely going to resist your marines, however.” She paused and looked at the state of both vessels then at another screen that showed the armoured and heavily armed marines getting into their boarding pods. “That resistance will likely crumble quickly.” She shifted a little. “I have recently studied human history some more and do not think the Denebians will be able to match the aggressiveness and lethality of your marines.”

“Will they surrender once they crumble?” He questioned while watching the final checks on the pods and their launch systems.

“Probably not officially, but effectively yes.” She seemed nervous, she still fidgeted even though her voice remained smooth. Perhaps it was just the after effects of the battle she had just witnessed. Realisation that she had ridden on a ship that was at the heart of it. He couldn't tell and it seemed rude to ask her on the bridge.

He turned to Captain Wilson. “Contact captain O'Keefe and ask him to tell Major Tarkov to ensure both enemy bridge crews and all those who surrender are taken prisoner.” The Captain nodded to him and proceeded to do so.

On the screens the pods were launched at the two cripples ships, carrying their trained and deadly cargoes. It took the pods only moments to slam into the ships and burrow their way through the hulls. Sealing themselves against the ships to preserve the atmosphere inside. The marines may have been wearing fully sealed power armour but venting the atmosphere of the ships would have been counterproductive to their goals. He continued watching while switching several of the screens infront of himself and Vatia, mentally he cut her title from her name he wanted to get to know her better and maybe ridding himself of the formality would make it slightly easier.

He watched as the marines stormed out of their pods. The pods themselves deployed smoke screens and covering fire that the systems were programmed to perform to buy time for the marines to disembark. The moment the first marine cleared the smoke screen the first thing Jean-Luc noticed was the Denebian body with a pool of green blood forming under it, it's head and chest had been ruined by the pods flechette cannon. The second thing he noticed was the size of the corridor. It looked like a regular corridor as if this was a building on a planet and not on a warship.

“Is something wrong?” came the soothing voice from next to him. He noticed that she seemed to be staring at him rather than the screens.

“The ship design. The corridors are far larger than is necessary.” She looked at him as if that was an odd thing to notice, perhaps it was. However when compared to the ship they were currently aboard with it's tight corridors, frequent bulkheads and all space that could be used for system, weapons and armour being used just for that. Corridors, crew quarters and every space that could be minimized was. His own private state room, his by nature of him being the fleet commander, was at best the size of a tiny one room apartment. It did have a small tiny attached office that doubled conference room and office.

“I have seen human ships with similar designs to that.” She observed while looking at the screens, some of them now showed marines advancing through the large corridors and rooms while firing at any armed Denebian that stood in their way. Most of the marines were armed with either assault rifles or flechette guns, their weapons tore through Deneb armour and flesh. Several walls and floors on those ships were now painted with distinctive splashes of green. The speed and violence the marines were demonstrating seemed to make her shudder, he knew it wasn't the temperature which was probably a bit warmer than her ideal.

“Well, yes, of course we have ships like that. Civilian ships.” He clarified and observed the screen with her. The marines were following their orders clearly. All ship systems were being left undamaged, every unarmed Denebian was being hit with stun charges from under slung launchers and wounded but living soldiers were disarmed and given emergency first aid before being bound. He watched as on both ships marines dashed towards where they had estimated the reactor cores were located so they could secure them and prevent anyone from triggering a cascade reaction. “Ships like those have the luxury of space and can be built like that but these aren't civilian ships. Warships don't have luxuries like that. Wasting space that could be used for armour places your crew at risk, adding more armour anyway makes your ship a bigger target. You could use that space to store more munitions, more weapons or even more supplies for the crew.” He shook his head and softly stroked his beard. The Navy permitted facial hair as long as it was trimmed and kept neat.

“Our ships are more like those of the Denebians than yours in this respect.” She looked around the small and confined bridge. “To us ships like these seem odd, designed to be so confining, is it not a hindrance for the crew?”

“In some emergencies more space could prove useful but that is why an aspect of training is to teach sailors and marines how to move quickly in tightly confined spaces.” He gestured around the bridge and outside the bulkhead that could quickly seal the bridge where sailors and officers were moving quickly and with no trouble.

She didn't respond and instead observed the humans in the bridge. Jean-Luc returned his attention to the marines just to watch as a marine sergeant was fired on several times by one of the ships captains, at least he assumed it was the captain as he was still seated on what looked like a command chair. The screen showed the armours system readouts as well that reported no damage or change in the sergeants life signs as he advanced on the captain. Jean-Luc watched, as did the bridge crew of the Denebian ship, while the sergeant took the gun from the captain and crushed it before pulling up the captain and binding him. After that the captain was simply dropped to the floor with a thud.

He couldn't fault the marines for their behaviour. They were still following the rules of war and by now almost all of the enemy ships was secured with most of the crews bound and taken prisoner, the rest were laying where they had died.

He turned off most of the feeds, they weren't necessary any more and he had little interest in watching as the marines escorted the prisoners to the shuttle bays that would be used to transport them to the fleet where they could be help in the proper conditions as were demanded by the articles of war. He gestured to Commander Fahimi, who quickly moved next to him, on the opposite side to Vatia. “Canvass the fleet for enough volunteers to crew those two ships and keep them stable or shut them down while we tow them to Mahakala station for the engineers and spooks there to examine.” He knew the spooks would be just as, if not more, interested in the prisoners and anything they'd have to say.

Before Fahimi could leave to carry out that task he added. “Also have them ship both of the enemy captains here, I want to personally see their initial interrogation.” That was one reason, the other was that only the flagship had an actual and official presence from the Office of Naval Intelligence, or the spooks or devils as they were often called.

“Va...” He quickly stopped himself. “Dignitary Vatia, would you please come to my state room at your earliest convenience. I wish to discuss something with you.” She nodded and he suspected she had noticed his slip. He nodded in return and then quickly turned to Wilson. “Inform me at once if anything arises that needs my attention, otherwise proceed as planned and get the fleet ready fold to Mahakala once the troopships rejoin us and the third sector fleet arrives to take over defensive duties from us.” With that he exited the bridge and headed for his quarters.


He was seated in his quarters reading the status reports and after action reports of the ships in his fleet when there was a knock at the hatch. “Enter” He watched Vatia enter the room with some minor difficulty, she seemed to also be observing the room. Truth be told there wasn't much to see. The room was cramped and sparse. In one corner was a small door that hid his private wash room, next to it was his workstation and a few shelves for whatever personalisations he chose to bring. They weren't much, a few books and photos from his cadet days, though he did also have small winter landscape painting above the shelves. His bed was the largest thing in the room and occupied an entire side of it. Finally there was the table he was seated at that was built into an alcove with seating built from the wall, under which were where his clothes and uniforms were kept.

“This is even smaller than the quarters I have.” She had turned to look at him again with a surprised look.

“It is sufficient, I did tell you our warships don't have the luxury of space.” He leaned back a bit and gestured for her to either sit on his bed, he was quite certain it could hold her body if she needed to sit, or lean against it whichever she preferred. She did in fact rest part of her body on it. “As for your quarters, when Kathekon was modified quarters specifically designed for a weaver were added. Your quarters were designed for your comfort.”

“Why is that?” She tried to emulate his pose slightly, it looked a bit off but for a moment he found it charming. “I know it is more than the bare minimum I require, it even has the space I would require to make a minor web nest for rest though I do enjoy the hammock you provided.”

“You have a hammock?” He stared at her in surprise. “Damn, now I want a hammock. Maybe I can slide one in under personal effects.”

“Yes, I think it was gives as it is easier to sleep in, we can not sleep on our backs as you do.” He nodded to her, he knew she could straighten the front of her body out the same as a human could bow but he was also quite certain it would not be a very restful pose. “You wished to speak with me.”

“Yes there have been a few matters I wanted to discuss with you.” He set all the reports aside and got up, opening the cabinet by his workstation to turn on the kettle inside. “Would you like some tea?” He pulled out two mugs and some several tea bags.

“Oh. Yes I would.” She looked very surprised and watched while he placed the teabags, no instant tea paste for him, in the mugs and added the already boiling water.

“Sugar? Milk?” He added sugar to his own and was ready to take one of the milk packets from the tiny refrigerator that made up the bottom half of the cabinet, the kind they gave people on atmospheric passenger trip with their food. She politely declined both and took the mug in her upper hands when he handed it to her. Returning to his seat he stirred his tea and let it cool before sipping it.

With his tea in hand he looked at her as she shifted a little and rested more of her body on his bed, her legs starting to fold slightly into the space under it until they met the wall.

She sipped the tea and then met his gaze. “What did you want to discuss?”

“Well to begin I wanted to ask if you had anything you wanted to ask me?” He sipped the tea while still looking at her and sighed in contentment when the warmth pooled in his stomach.

She looked at him and drank from her mug as well, her sharp teeth visible when she did. “Yes, I am a bit surprised by how prepared you humans are for war. Have you not just had a long and prosperous peace?”

“Yes we have. We hoped the peace would last longer still.” He shrugged slightly and leaned back a little. “Hope for the best but prepare for the worst. That and our government is based on one that was a militaristic empire, so maybe something just seeped through. Maybe we humans are so accustomed to war we couldn't get rid of it in the end no matter what. You've read some of our history I'm sure, we have had so many wars. Even if we managed to stop fighting ourselves we didn't want to risk our future on the hope that any aliens we might encounter were peaceful.” He took a proper drink of his tea and enjoyed its slightly cooler warmth.

“A pessimistic attitude.” her reply was rather succinct.

“A pessimistic military lets the government be optimistic without risking the future of the species.” He leaned his head back until it rested against the wall, even here he could feel the thrumming of the powercore gently in the wall. She seemed satisfied with that. “Anything else you wanted to ask?”

“Yes but that can wait until later. I want to read some things first and do a little more research.” She set the mug down on the workstation. She had finished her tea already.

“Alright, feel free to ask any time you are ready to.” He downed the last of his own tea. “I wanted to ask what you think the response of both the Weavers and Denebians will be to what happened here?”

“I have no idea how the Denebians will react, a battle as one sided as this is not something any of us have seen.” Her lower arms were straightening the hems of her dress, or was it a robe, he didn't know what they called their clothes.

“We got lucky. That bombardment strike worked better than I'd dared hope. If it hadn't worked that would have been a much more bloody fight, That dreadnought could have torn many of our ships apart.”

“But it didn't, instead you destroyed it before it even got a shot off at you.” She got up off the bed and moved closer to him, in the cramped quarters that didn't take much.

“Like I said, we got lucky. That barrage could easily have bounced in any direction after it skipped off the atmosphere.” He glanced into his empty mug before returning her gaze again. “We also got lucky when they broke. Without that they could still have damaged us badly, especially our escorts.”

“I wouldn't know, of course it isn't the destruction of the fleet they will react to but rather its disappearance.” She took his mug from the table and turned to make them both new cups of tea.

While her back was turned and she was making the tea he noticed her lower arms again rubbing her cephalothorax again. “And the Weavers. How will your people react to this.”

Her back was still to him as she seemed to be examining his tea cabinet. “With relief. Joy and relief. My people are going to be overjoyed that we are allied with you. I think this will stop us from falling into a despair that would have given the Denebians a large advantage. Though I don't know what their goal in this war is.”

“Neither do we, but we do have quite a few prisoners who might be able to answer that question.” She turned and handed him his cup of tea, he noticed she had forgotten to remove the teabag but had added the sugar so he didn't really mind.

“You are going to interrogate them?” She sipped her own tea and seemed to notice her mistake when the teabag bumped into her 'lips'.

“The intelligence officers on board this ship are going to interrogate some of them, however that will only be some preliminary questioning. There are proper facilities on Mahakala station along with more staff who are better qualified for it.” He watched her try to surreptitiously pick the teabag from her mug and then stare at his.

“Do you think they will tell you anything.” She got the teabag out when she thought he wasn't looking.

“I don't know. We lack any real experience interrogating them. If they were humans I'd say they might let something slip but probably wouldn't intentionally tell us anything.” He drank some more tea and then moved his cup so when she looked down she could easily see the teabag floating in the cup.

He leaned his head back for a moment and then looked at her again. “We'll still try and see what they tell us.” He lifted his mug to take another drink and noticed the teabag had disappeared and couldn't help but glance at her hands, all four of which were innocently relaxed against her sides.

She nodded and finished the rest of her tea. “Was there anything else?”

“Just two things.” He looked in her eyes “I want you to come and observe the interrogations of the captains. You might be able to provide insights the rest of us can't.” He got up and took both mugs, setting them aside so he could clean them in his sink in the wash room.

He turned back to her leaning against the door. “Finally, the legionnaires and drones have thus far found nineteen surviving weavers in escape pods on the surface of Kepler-4b. Some properly good news at least.”

She nodded before leaving the room.



Submitted December 06, 2017 at 03:48AM by Kitedtk http://ift.tt/2jUTgn9 HFY

Monday, November 27, 2017

[OC] Uplift Protocol. Chapter 31 HFY

For the first chapter, click here!

For the previous chapter, click here!

With all that was going on in The Sanctum of Everlasting Diplomacy (classes, acculturation, breeding season, and diplomatic training) Elijah was glad to get some sleep. He did so while snuggling next to Kra, relishing the sensation.

Hearing his alarm, he gave a groan. ”Time to wake up already? Christ, I have a headache...” Why was his alarm different? Did he accidentally switch the settings?

But wait. Something else was wrong. Was there a malfunction in the artificial gravity? He felt so much lighter. And what was wrong with the environmental controls? It was way too humid, the moisture level in the air being higher than on what he and Kra had compromised it would be set at whenever she visited him.

Opening his eyes, he realized he was in a completely different bed, in a completely different room. Looking to his right, he saw an unfamiliar ZidChaMa woman laying next to him. “GAH!”

This caused her to wake up, with an equally startled reaction, her thanatosis reflex almost activating. “Who’re you!?”

He recognized that voice anywhere. “Kra?”

Yes, it was her, but... different. Older? It wasn’t as obvious as first, but after a few seconds he saw that it was clearly her, but with her scales slightly less radiant and with some lines around her eyes and mouth. He had also been caught off guard by the fact that the changes that accompanied breeding season had gone away, meaning she was regular old innocent Kra.

“ElLeeJah? Is that you? You look um... different.”

At her words, he reached up and touched his face. His skin felt somehow thicker, and wrinkled. His hair was cut shorter as well, and... receding slightly?

He got out of bed, forgetting about the much lighter gravity and almost leaping into the air due to the excess force he used. The bedroom was well furnished, with the decorations being a mix between MidKwo and Anglo-American in origin. He noticed a standing mirror against a wall. “Oh fuck.” He looked fifteen to twenty years older. “Jesus Christ, I’m middle aged!”

He almost began to hyperventilate, but his panic lessened somewhat when he noticed how well he’d aged. ”I’ve got a silver fox thing going on, don’t I? Not bad, I must say.” Wait, no! Now was not the time for self appreciation!

“What happened?”

“I don’t know!” The girl had gotten up too, looking at her visage in the mirror with equal horror. “The last thing I remember, I fell asleep next to you, in The Sanctum!”

“Wait.” Elijah raised a finger in the air, squinting in a way that could now be described as sage-like (”because I’m old”). “I remember seeing an episode of a TV show where something like this happened.” He racked his brain trying to remember. “A character went to sleep, and then woke up decades older. It turned out he had amnesia because of an illness he contracted, and his mind had been erased of any memories he created in a particular span of time. It was a pretty good episode actually, an—“

“I’ve missed out on the best years of my life!?” Kra looked woozy, and her knees were shaking. Her death mimicry reflex was about to activate.

“Kra, sweetie—“ the words caught him off guard. Had he just really called her that? It just slipped out. “It’s going to be fine. This is probably a trick by The Magistrates.” Or Scott. Fuck that guy.

“But what if it’s not!? What if we have amnesia because of some bizarre thing we were exposed to while in space or something, and we’ll never get our memories back? I—“

Elijah put a finger up to silence her, and then said “shh” when that didn’t work, remembering she didn’t know that hand gesture. “There are footsteps,” he whispered. “Someone’s coming!”

“Oh no no no no!” Kra took his hand, leading him to the centre of the bedroom and looking around erratically. “We’ve gotta hide!”

“What? Why?”

She didn’t answer, probably overwhelmed by instinct, as her species often was. “Here!” She pushed him onto the bed, throwing a blanket on him before doing the same to herself.

“This is asinine.”

“Shh!”

Someone was at the bedroom door. “Mom? Dad? You guys up?” It sounded like a pre-teen boy.

Elijah didn’t say anything. He was unsure of what to even say to that. ”Mom and dad? What in the ever loving fuck!?” How would that even be possible!? Some unholy hybrid of human and ZidChaMa DNA? No no, that was impossible.... ZidChaMa were from a completely different tree of life.

Kra squirmed next to him, whispering something under the sheets. “Maternal... instinct... activating... ahhhhhh!” She seemed as if trying her hardest not to spring up and immediately open the door.

It was because of her hindbrain, Elijah was sure. ZidChaMa neurology was fascinating. Apparently, people who joined the military had to receive behavioural modification just to ignore certain things which might trigger involuntary instinctual behaviour.

“Kra! I don’t think any of this is real. Maybe if we ignore it—“

“Mooooom?”

At the child’s voice, Kra sprung out of bed. “Coming, sweetie!”

“Dammit, Kra.”

Elijah sat up and tried to look presentable, and Kra opened the door a crack. A human child, perhaps eleven or twelve years old, stood there. He was tall for his age and quite lanky, perhaps due to the effects of having been raised in lower gravity than Earth. He had messy, wavy dark brown hair, a pale complexion, and piercing blue eyes, looking strangely familiar. Seeing them, he gave a pleased smile. “Morning! I was just wondering when breakfast is.”

Elijah gave him a look. “You seem old enough to make breakfast yourself, kid...”

Kra shot him an angry glance, scolding him somewhat by saying his name in a hiss. “ElLeeJah! Not nice.” Then, she turned back towards the boy. “Breakfast will be soon, honey. Your father and I are just having an important conversation at the moment.”

”Why is she so into this!? There’s no way this isn’t some weird simulation. We haven’t travelled into the future, and that isn’t our kid.” Elijah found himself slightly disturbed by the whole idea.

“Can we have waffles? OOH, and bacon?” The boy seemed way too happy at the prospect of food, and Elijah felt a pang of something odd when he realized he reminded him of himself at that age, or his younger brother.

“Uh,” said Kra, clearly not knowing what either of those were, “sure! Just give your father and me a few minutes to get dressed, okay?”

Seeming satisfied with that answer, the boy nodded. “Awesome. Also, RoVin managed to get out of his [larval incubation pond], but I threw him a few [leech analogues], and he was fine after he ate. Can you believe his baby legs are already here!?” He had switched from English to MidKwo for those two ZidChaMa words.

Kra gave a little, very pleased sounding chortle. “He’s growing so fast! Alright, see you in uh... a few minutes.” She closed the door.

“What in the hell,” said Elijah, in a horrified whisper, “are baby legs!?”

“What they sound like? Anyways, we have to figure this out. Do you know how to make human breakfasts? I think we should just play house until everything becomes more clear.” She sounded much, much too excited about the whole thing, and her scales were lit up in what was analogous to a huge smile.

Elijah, however, was much less enthusiastic. “Uh-huh...” Getting up, he found some clothes in the closet, noting how fashion seemed to have changed since the (supposed) time skip occurred. A conclusion came to him as he was buttoning up his shirt. “This is a dream!” Yes, it was all so simple. “I’m dreaming! It’s just an oddly vivid dream, isn’t it?” Looking at Kra, he grinned. “It could be because I somehow ingested some of your neck poison again, right? Or some enzymes from it that came through your skin or saliva or something? I had trippy dreams last time, too!” The thought that he, in fact, had not lost fifteen to twenty years of his life filled him with glee.

“Nope!” She said, chipperly.” Not unless we’re psychically linked somehow, which I’m pretty sure is impossible. Besides, if I were a character in your dream, I’d stop existing when you wake up. You don’t want me to die, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then let’s just enjoy this.”

”Why does she seem so happy? The happiest I’ve seen her since... ever, actually.”

As strange as it sounded, even if this version of Kra was a figment of his imagination, he wanted her to be happy. Besides, if it was a dream, he might as well enjoy the whole thing until he awoke.

Elijah glanced down at the wedding ring on his hand, a family heirloom that he, as the oldest son, had inherited from his father. “We’re married, apparently. How did that work, do you think? Aren’t you not allowed to marry out of your religion?”

“You probably converted to mine,” she said, still chipper.

“... Greeaaaat.”

“Don’t look so down at the idea of us being an adorable married couple!” She reached up, affectionately squeezing his cheeks together. “C’mon, where’s that smile?”

He gave a very forced, fake looking smile. Of course, she wasn’t familiar enough with the subtleties of human facial expression to know it was not genuine, and Kra gave a little coo of affection at the action. “That’s the spirit!”

They went to the kitchen, and while walking down the hall Elijah noted that the entire house seemed custom built, blending ZidChaMa and human architecture with what could be described as a compromise. It was a lot less wet than what he’d seen in their movies and television shows, and a lot of the fixtures had been built to accommodate a human’s larger height and frame, to prevent banging one’s head against doorframes. Kra was already tall for a ZidChaMa at around five feet tall, and he was sure traditional households on her planet were much more cramped.

”We have a custom built house? Huh, we must be doing pretty well for ourselves. I wonder what sort of money comes from being an interstellar ambassador. Book deals and speaking fees, probably... like with retired American presidents.”

The kitchen had appliances which seemed a bit alien to Elijah in terms of interfaces (he doubted he’d be able to use the microwave for example), but designs like a combination stove-oven or a refrigerator seemed sort of universal. Or maybe they were the result of human influence?

“Alright, I guess we’re cooking two breakfasts? A ZidChaMa one and a human one?” He whispered this to her, not wanting their ‘children’ to overhear. It was kind of fun, playing a role like this... like he was really getting into character while playing an RPG.

It turned out that they had, in fact, four children (Kra produced a sound which might be the ZidChaMa equivalent to a girly noise of jubilation at this realization, but it sounded like a noise of pain at first and startled Elijah). Two were human (and looked a lot like Elijah, which indicated that perhaps they were actually his, and a surrogate helped out with things), and two were Kra’s species.

With one of the ZidChaMa children being the equivalent of a toddler (and having to spend most of the time in a spawning pool of some sort), there was only one ZidChaMa child at the table, who seemed to be younger than the human child that asked them for breakfast earlier on. The other human child was a girl, perhaps six years old, with blonde hair and a very tired expression which told him that she wasn’t a morning person.

They, of course, had no idea what any of their children’s names were, so it was just a matter of improvising and using pet names like “sweetie”, “sugar pie”, or “my precious tadpole” when talking to them. Easy peasy.

“Dad, you make the [best] waffles,” said the oldest child, through a mouthful of food. He had used a MidKwo term for ‘best’, perhaps because the English equivalent was lacking in something.

”Makes sense that they’re all bilingual... I wonder how the ZidChaMa one is at speaking English?”

“Thanks, son,” he replied to the boy. “The secret is covering everything in maple syrup.” As is Canadian tradition.

“Daaad,” said the ZidChaMa girl, “Noah got syrup on the table, and it made my sleeve sticky!” Her scales turned orangish red in annoyance.

Noah? They had named him after Elijah’s dead brother.

He hoped the look of surprise wasn’t obvious on his face, and then felt his phone begin to vibrate in his pocket, indicating that a call was coming through. “Oh, hold on.” Elijah gave Kra a look of curiosity, wondering if she thought he should answer it or not, but she was too busy doting on the ZidChaMa girl to notice.

Having excused himself from the breakfast table, he went into the hallway to take the call. “Hello?”

The audio quality was horrendous, as if someone were driving through a tunnel while calling from a cellular phone. “Hey, man! How’s it going?”

It took him a few seconds for his brain to process who the voice belonged to. “Thomas!?”

“Yeah! Christ, man, I’m glad to hear your voice. I mean, assuming it’s really you. Somneus said you were alive, but I’ve been skeptic.”

“Who’s Stromulos?”

“Not Stromulos, Somneus. Sawm-nee-us. It’s the nickname I gave that glowing ghost dude who visits me in my dreams sometimes to give life advice. He says you two have met.”

Glowing ghost dude?

“The... The Entity!?” He said it a bit too loudly, and got some looks from his wife and kids (that felt weird to think about). “The... is he a fourth dimensional guy made out of light and abstract shapes that have no name? Can’t look at him directly without your brain getting hurt?”

“That’s the one!” Thomas’ voice cut out halfway through the sentence. “Can you hear me okay? He just told me he can’t keep the line open for much longer, because of the distance. Listen, I just want to tell you that everything’s fine. We all miss you, alright? I’m glad you’re still alive, man.”

Elijah felt himself choking up somewhat. He often thought about how he was missed by his friends and family, and being reminded of that opened up some emotional wounds. “I’ll be back in less than a year and a half. I’ll buy you a beer when I do, alright? Hell, I’ll buy everyone who missed me a beer.”

“Sounds good, bud. He’s saying I’ve gotta go now, so... catch you later.”

“Bye.”

The call ended. Elijah looked down at the phone, solemnly. Something touched his leg, and he almost jumped. Looking down, he saw the little human girl hugging him. “Don’t be sad, daddy! What’s wrong?”

“It’s fine,” he said, a bit surprised at how much the hug made him feel better. “Everything’s fine. How about we go back to the kitchen an—“

There was a knock at the door.

Elijah heard his heart beating in his ears. Who could it be? Would he open that door, only to see The Entity – Somneus – standing at the door and wanting to talk?

”No,” he thought, ”if this is a dream, I have to keep a positive mindset, or else things will get dark.”

He put on a smile, walking towards the door and opening it. To his surprise, the person on the other side of the threshold was a pretty looking woman in her late thirties (or perhaps early forties? He was terrible with guessing ages. Either way, she was around as old as he was in this dream or simulation or whatever it was.). She had piercing blue eyes and long, blonde hair that was in a ponytail, and she was dressed in a dressy casual way.

Elijah was a bit speechless, partially because she was so beautiful, and, luckily, she spoke first. “Hey, uh...” she glanced down at a note in her hand. “Elijah?” She had a thick accent, sounding as if she was from the Southern U.S.

The little girl who had been hugging him just seconds earlier ran towards the woman. “Yaaaay, biological mommy Sarah!”

At the girl’s words, the woman looked momentarily terrified. “Oh,” she gave a forced looking smile, “I didn’t see you there, cutie pie!” The tone of her voice indicated that she had no idea who this girl was. While the girl buried her face in the woman while hugging her, Sarah looked up at Elijah. She gestured for him to come closer, and then handed him something flat and metallic, about twice the size of a two dollar coin, but rectangular. “Does this look familiar to you?” she said, in a whisper so the girl hugging her couldn’t hear.

It looked exactly like the medallion he received from The Scions near the beginning of his adventure, the one that said his name and group. Hers said:

‘Sarah Wilson: Group Alpha. Strategic intelligence, logistics, and associated military disciplines.’



Submitted November 27, 2017 at 07:13PM by CalmBeforeTheEclipse http://ift.tt/2AaCVop HFY

Saturday, November 18, 2017

[OC] Skin Hunger Chapter 12 HFY

“You have torn a bloody path through history, killing everything that couldn’t learn the simple fact that harming your priests was a terrible idea.”

Chapter 12 of Skin Hunger: The Cat Comes Back

Available here: http://ift.tt/2zg9f9G or just below the divider.

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Damage Control: Action, Buddy Cop/Special Ops. The Esoteric Forces of the United States is in charge of keeping things under wraps. Preventing anyone from learning the truth, a truth that would shatter the assumptions the world is built on. Sometimes, things get too big to keep under wraps. The only thing that they can do is try to roll with it. In the aftermath of the events of Skin Hunger, Sergeant Fetu Miller must undertake four missions to stabilize the situation. And worse, he must undertake them with an unexpected trainee.

Still Life: Horror, Post-Apocalypse, Romance. A young man wakes up to find the world suddenly emptied. Wandering the streets, he finds that the only other things are what he terms the Mannequins, plastic dolls that only move while he isn’t watching them. While slow and not particularly strong, he nonetheless finds himself being stalked by them, staying constantly ahead of their approaches. Then, he hears a radio signal being broadcast from nearby- By another human. Specifically, a young woman.

A Big, Bright, Shining Star: Sex Comedy, Action. A mysterious figure has been scouring the San Fernando Valley’s criminal underbelly for the better part of a week, claiming to be the goddess Ishtar, threatening to punish mankind for their sins- though her method of punishment is a bit unusual. The entrenched demonic figures in San Fernando Valley don’t want an outsider horning in on their business, but if she is who she claims to be, they may not stand a chance… Not to mention that the criminals she’s punished have been unsettlingly eager to do what she wants.


Chapter 12: The Cat Comes Back

“Salmon,” I said, nodding my head as the plane came in for a landing on the Binghamton county air strip. “Smoked salmon. That’s what I’m going to have him make when we get there.”

The deposed king of Paradise didn’t say anything. The billionaire industrialist just nodded quietly.

What a weekend.

“Or crab cakes. Crab cakes would be fantastic. He’s been experimenting more with breading and frying things.”

The deposed king looked down at his daughter, and stroked the girl’s hair. Still sleeping. Still an awkward conversation waiting to happen there. I looked across at Markov. “So, how-”

“Five minutes,” he said. He looked tense.

I might have threatened to rip a hole in the plane when we had flown over Binghamton. Everyone was a little bit tense. I just really wanted to make sure Horace was okay. “I’m sorry. It’s just- You know.”

“Yes, I know exactly what you’re feeling. He’ll be okay. As I understand it, you have torn a bloody path through history, killing everything that couldn’t learn the simple fact that harming your priests was a terrible idea. Unless you have enemies who have lurked in another world since prehistory, it will be fine.”

“You know, if Horace were here, he’d start talking about how you were tempting Dramatic Irony, and how you’d just guaranteed he was in trouble.” I stared out the window as the plane taxied into the hangar. The door opened, and I sprang forward, badly shocking a young security guard. I was at the edge of the hangar before I stopped, frowning.

“Bastet,” said Markov, from the stairway of the private jet.

“Betty,” I said, pointedly. He nodded.

“Betty. You said that Horace was here, but can you tell where he is?”

“No,” I admitted. “I might be able to when I’m closer, but… Oh.” I frowned. “I’m going to need to go to our apartment, and figure out where he is.”

“And a rented car will help that greatly. I ordered one as we were flying. Please, I might as well get you all the way to his door.”

I paused for a moment, giving the man a look. Over his shoulder was slung a large amount of chainmail. On his other shoulder was a two-handed sword. Around his neck hung an iron rod. They looked pretty silly on him, like the CEO out to run around in a forest for a weekend, pretending to be an elf. There was a whole story behind them, a tragically lost family and incredible powers he’d accepted in order to save them. Another in a long history of tragic stories.

Humans were delicate. Fragile. They died in silly, often pointless ways. Gods were usually too powerful, too stubborn, to die for anything but the most dramatic of reasons. I sometimes thought that sheer embarrassment had been enough to save me from quite a few dire fates. But humans could die just walking to the store for groceries. Humans could die tripping down stairs. They were such delicate, helpless things. I couldn’t help but love them for that. But it made it painful to watch them put their lives in danger. They were as helpless as my own kittens.

The rental car waited for us in the parking lot of the airport. I didn’t really pay attention to it, to be honest. Cars are strange. Loud, grumbling, vibrating, I don’t find them particularly comfortable. I have also been struck by more than one car, and while the car inevitably took the worst of it, the experience is still unpleasant. Perhaps it’s a racial solidarity thing; all those fellow felines, struck down by careless cars, haunting me. But the driver was almost reckless in the way he got us to Horace’s apartment, which I could appreciate.

“Horace?” asked the landlady. “He was here on Sunday, picking up the rest of his stuff. He didn’t tell you?” She looked to either side, and leaned forward conspiratorially. “He had this girl with him. Little Polynesian thing.” She glowered. “Tattoos. She looked real trashy. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I always found you a bit trashy too, but she was, you know. Anyway, didn’t he have that place up north that the government was giving him trouble over? I’d guess that was where he went.”

I narrowed my eyes as I returned to the car. A girl? That was silly. What the hell did Horace need with a girl? What, I wasn’t enough for him? I was more than enough for anyone!

I took a deep breath as I sat down in the car. “There’s a little town about twenty miles north of here. Horace has a house there, now- It was part of the deal the government made with me to save the world. Uh…” I closed my eyes, trying to remember the address. “Just drive us there, we’ll see if we spot him.”

I crossed my arms tight over my chest as the car drove. I’d always been well aware that Horace had a certain… charm, when it came to monsters. Something about him fed us. It attracted us. I wasn’t quite sure why. I was happier, more content, more powerful when I had him close by, even beyond his status as my priest. He was a very good human.

I wondered if he’d attracted another stray while I was away. It wasn’t like Horace to simply go out looking for trouble, but it was very like him to bring it home with him. After all, he’d taken me in without thinking twice.

As we entered the small town, speeding up the off-ramp, we drove past a large sign which proudly proclaimed it ‘The best little town by a dam site’. I frowned at it. Bad spelling, and blasphemy. I was even less thrilled about this town than Binghamton. Binghamton had been merely a nest of undead, fairies, and demons, the supernatural rotting the underbelly of a once great and noble city. I could get used to that. New York City had been like that when I’d arrived there. I kind of liked that environment. This place… It was barely a village. It might have been a thorpe, from what I remembered of the books that Horace had showed me about dragons and dungeons. It was small, and I could smell barely anything in the way of monsters, here.

A sheriff’s car sped past as we arrived at an intersection, lights flashing. I stared after it, a very unpleasant feeling filling my stomach. “Markov? Can we follow that car, see where it goes?”

Again and again, in Paradise, people told me that I was going to be too late. That I was going to come home and find something awful had happened to Horace. I had refused chance after chance to leave, to run home to check up on Horace. Partially because the world was in danger. Mostly because I had to trust, I had to believe, that Horace would be alright. I had to trust that he could survive without me hovering over him for a handful of days.

I was an idiot, I decided, as I stared at the police tape being spread around the hole in the earth. Dozens of people were watching, talking together. The sinkhole was unfathomably deep, filled to the brim with icy cold water. From a broken water main, one of the policemen told Markov while I stared down at it. I could smell Horace. He had been here. Had.

They’d taken him. There was no other explanation. Someone, somewhere, had stolen Horace away, and I was going to ruin their day. I was going to absolutely fuck them. I was going to tear whatever they were doing down to the very roots and all of that was if they hadn’t harmed a single hair on his head. If they had-

“Bastet,” said a woman’s voice. The smell of rotten meat and the chill of arctic winds ran on it. I turned, and smiled.

“It’s Betty, Wendigo.”

“It’s Wendy, Betty,” said the old woman. She stood at the edge of the parking lot. A large RV sat in the parking lot behind her, and another old woman behind her. Wendy’s hair was snow white, her eyes almost the same color. She smiled, showing off long rows of sharp canines, her face wrinkled and emaciated. She was extremely thin. I narrowed my eyes.

“What are you doing out in the world, Wendy?” I asked, my own teeth sharp. “You’re quite a handful, I know. But if you think for a moment that I will let you eat humans, you have badly misjudged-”

“Betty, for chrissakes, I’m reformed. I quit eating humans years ago.”

“How many years?”

“Six.”

I whistled. “That’s… actually quite impressive. I am proud of you, Wendy.” I glared. “You didn’t eat Horace, did you?”

“The nice young cashier here? No, Betty, I did not eat Horace. I tried to warn him, in fact.” She frowned down at the waters. “What do you remember about the Keeper of the Feast?”

My head swam for a moment. I had lived a very long time, and memories could get intense. The Keeper of the Feast- “Cannibal god. Ate hearts. I fought it in Canada. It-” I stared at Wendy.

“Yes. That’s the last time we met, if memory serves. And I forgive you completely for kicking my ass when I tried to seize the heart; I was being a pain.” She glared down at the water. “Some chickens are coming home to roost, Betty.”

“Oh, good, I like chicken.”

Wendy blinked slowly at me, and I did the same back at her. She took a deep breath, and let it out through her teeth. “I forgot what it’s like to talk to you. I’m saying that your past actions-”

“I know what chickens coming home to roost means.” I smiled. “You really HAVE forgotten what it’s like to talk with me. Now what happened to Horace?”

“The Atlanteans.”

I stared down at the water for a moment, trying to remember.

“The Atlanteans? Ancient race of fish-like humanoids?”

“Uh.”

“You would occasionally visit?”

“Mmm…”

“You waged a genocidal crusade against their wayward pantheon for the last 80 years? Murdered every one of their gods?”

“Oh. Oooooh!” I was quiet for a moment. “So they went after Horace for revenge?”

“No, Betty, they were quite grateful, because their gods were bastards. They grabbed this place because they wanted someone who was in it.” She sighed. “We’re not going to get through this path. They’ve got a goddess keeping the doors closed, and she’s quite experienced at it. We’ll need a weaker place to get through.” She smiled at me. “As it just so happens, though, we’ve got one.”

“Oh, no,” I groaned. “I don’t have to go to Zion, do I?”

“Come on. Everyone will be looking forward to seeing you.”

“Are those three biddies still in their passive aggressive war?” I asked, frowning.

“Actually, Izanagi and Echidna are getting along quite well, now.”

“Huh. Who would have guessed…? Markov, you’re probably not the best person to bring there at the moment, people in Cities always tend to be nervous about someone who’s worked for the Horsemen. Can’t imagine why, but how can I get in contact with you?”

He handed me a small phone. I dropped it into my top, nodding appreciatively. He averted his eyes as he spoke. “I’ll give you a call later tonight. My contact information will be in there.”

“Of course. Wendy.” I nodded as she stepped over to the RV, and opened the door. I climbed up the high step, and into the interior of luxury.

“You like it?” asked Wendy.

“Horace really needs to get one of these,” I said, staring appreciatively around the inside. It was like a house, but it could move around. That seemed like the best of both worlds, so far as I was concerned. “So, is Horace in Atlantis? Did they capture him? Why were you interested?”

“As far as I know, he is in the Atlantean’s grasp; Certainly, he wasn’t there when we arrived, and there were a few cars outside the building. It’d be my best guess. As for why I was interested, there have been Wendigo loose. One attacked him last night. I felt it.”

My heart felt like it had just fallen out and splattered on the floor.

“He was okay, Betty. I could feel the creature coming into being. A human who had eaten the flesh of another human- And a great deal of it.” She met my eyes. “Not many Wendigo these days, are there? Rare for someone to get a taste for flesh. Rare for someone to be in a situation where a taste for flesh makes sense. Around these parts, at least.” She tapped her fingers together. “The Wendigo was dead when I arrived, which suggests someone extremely competent was there. This human… He a fighter?”

“He’s…” I frowned. “He’s not much of one. He’s got a lot of spirit, but he’s just a human, you know? He’s… delicate, like humans are.”

“No pacts?”

I looked away, silent.

“Ah. How insensitive of me. I forgot about your issues in that field.” Wendy waved a hand towards a refrigerator. “Can I make you a hamburger? Oh, don’t give me that look, I don’t use long pork anymore. Nothing sapient.” She winked.

“Are the Wendigo related to the Atlanteans?” I asked, my memory stirring.

“That’s a good question. Atlanteans are not humans, are they? They certainly don’t smell or taste like it. They shouldn’t be able to become Wendigo. They could be feeding humans and setting them loose, but that’s a plan that’s more likely to alert the authorities than cause any major damage. A few fast food patrons- That’s bad, but the amount of meat they’d need to make them into Wendigo would be substantial. Very difficult to keep under wraps.”

“Ugh. This mystery shit kills me. Why can’t they just come up and say, ‘Hey, let’s fight, winner takes all’?”

“Because everything that ever did that to you had its throat ripped out, Betty,” said Wendy, not unkindly. “You do not encourage the creatures to play fair.” She frowned. “I would not be interfering, but-“

“Interference is becoming all the style, isn’t it?” I smiled. “I’m not going to complain if you’re not murdering and eating anyone, Wendy. I said all along that this is what we should be doing. Stopping things from getting worse. Interfering.” I sat down in one of the chairs, elbows resting on a table, head resting on one of my palms as I stared out the window. “The humans are more enthusiastic about us interfering than you might think. I never saw Horace so happy as when he realized that someone was out there. Someone who cared.”

I didn’t mention how happy I’d been. I had lost a lot of humans over the years. A lot of humans who I had given my heart to, who I had loved and cared for like my own kittens. They’d gone and died. It would be nice to believe that Horace was different.

Of course, if he was. If he found out that he was different, that he was something special, he wouldn’t need me anymore. He’d probably leave.

But Horace- Horace was a wonderful caretaker, but he wasn’t some avenging nightmare, some terrible hero or fearsome berserk warrior. He was just a human. That was why I loved him. He wasn’t like his uncle.

The trip passed surprisingly quickly with my head running in circles like that. Before I knew it, we approached the white pines of Zion.

I remember when this city was built, back in the 1800s. They asked me to become a part of it, to give it my blessing. I had considered it. Then I’d met Howard, and I’d never looked back. The miserable goddamn cowards had waited in their cities, hiding away as the problems they’d set into motion ran rampant. Their plan contributed to the Lost Gods, to everything that had happened. If I ever met Marduk, I was going to rip him a new one. This was all his fault for falling for that stupid goddamn plan to let humans face things on their own. To bear the burden of keeping the world whole alone, and allow the gods peace.

It was a problem that humans dealt with quite a lot. People- be they humans or gods- could change over time. But put them back among their family, among childhood friends, and they regressed, both sides pressing one another to act as they used to. I was the same way among gods. All those old arguments came bubbling back. Before I’d left Paradise, I’d beaten the tar out of a solid half dozen gods, all at once. It probably wasn’t a healthy long-term way to deal with the problem, but it had been very relaxing.

“Betty?”

I jerked up. “Mmm? Not asleep. Wasn’t asleep.”

“Are you alright? You look a bit… strung out,” said Wendy.

“Long day.” I rubbed my hair, and frowned at myself in the reflection of the glass. I licked the back of my hand and ran it across my hair, grooming it carefully back into place until it was right again. “Went to Hell, freed a bunch of lost souls, fought a bunch more, met some really strange humans, nearly died, beat up a Horseman. It was a long day, and I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

“Because of the human.”

“Don’t give me the whole ‘You should fall in love with a Hero, they live longer’ spiel,” I said, my tone dangerous.

“You want a human-“

“I don’t like Heroes,” I said. “Not in that way, anyway. They…” I looked down, glowering. “They remind me of Anapa.”

“Of course, dear,” said Wendy, patting my shoulder. “I know you feel deeply for humans. They mean a great deal to you. That does you credit. It’s a compassion I often envy. But… They only live a handful of decades at most, Betty. They die, and then they go to a lovely place, and there is little they could do that would be as important as providing you the worship you need to keep protecting them. It doesn’t do anyone any good for you to lose your mind because of one of them dies. I don’t think the world can afford such things.”

“It won’t come to that.”

“But if it does. Do you think Horace would want you to mourn him, or would he want you to keep going?”

I looked away. I felt so damn tired. So empty. I’d only been away from him for a few days, and granted, they were terrible, exhausting days, but… Maybe I was just getting older. Every day I got a little slower, and the people I fought got a little faster. I’d run into those humans on Paradise. Humans who could’ve killed me. When had that ever been a possibility before?

“We should go see Water,” I said, standing up. I was worrying myself about things that hadn’t happened yet. What was important was that I save Horace. He would still care about me. He’d still love me, no matter what happened. As long as I wasn’t too late.

The old hotel was still there. It had been upgraded, at some point, to a more modern motor lodge. There were a handful of cars in the courtyard, which was surprising. An old and apparently thriving auto repair shop sat across the road from it. We walked in, and met the young, pale, Nordically blonde woman standing at the desk. She smelled like a house, and I suspected she was one of the old house-gods who had gotten a bit too big for one house. Wendy leaned up on the desk, and glared up at the woman. “I want to talk to your manager.”

A few minutes later, Wendy and I stood in one of the hotel’s bedrooms with the elemental incarnation of Water. I glared at her. “If you’re going to give me the speech about the Horsemen and the Sisters and the balance and all that stuff, don’t.”

“I had no such plans. You know a lot, now, Bastet.” Water looked to the side, her eyes dropped. “I’m sorry you had to find out that way. About Famine, and everything else.”

I waved a hand. “It’s Betty. And I always knew I was special. Famine wasn’t the most important part of that. Besides, my job is still my job.” I rested my hands atop the bed, leaning in. “What do you know?”

“Not much. Not enough, to be blunt. You know how the Lost Gods are.” She was quiet for a moment, and looked away. “I have little influence over Atlantis. Ku-thule and Yam Hamawet have corrupted the place. I fear that the entire dimension is on the verge of shattering.”

“Shattering?” I asked, an eyebrow raised. “That can happen?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t known it to happen before. But strange things are happening in our world.” She tilted her head to the side. “Betty, I might be able to open a way for you. But you’d be a long way from the palace proper.” She was quiet for a moment, and opened her mouth, as though there was something she wanted to say. Then she closed it.

“What are you hiding?” I asked, amicably. The Sisters were like this, always weighing their words carefully. Foolish decisions on their part had consequences for everyone, and unlike me, they had never acquired the confidence that they would be able to fix those problems too.

“Nothing. Just… When you see Horace… Be careful. Okay? He’s had a very hard time with you gone.” She looked away. “He’s not as safe as you think he is, Betty.”

“Is he in danger?” I asked, a little notch of panic in my voice, that I tried very successfully to hide.

“That’s not what I mean. He’s dangerous, Betty.”

I stared for a moment. Then I laughed. “Horace?! Dangerous? Water, I’ve never met a more compassionate, gentle person in my life.”

“Yes,” said Water. She looked down at her hands. “Just please be careful, Betty. I’m worried that he is on a precipice. The wrong thing said, the wrong words… Remember what his uncle was able to do.”

I looked down at my leg. The scar was still there. Faint, barely visible, but still there. Where that horrid black knife that Randall Creed carried on him had nearly killed me. “He is not his uncle.”

“I hope you’re right.” Water stood up, and waved us towards the bathroom. She knelt down, and turned on the faucet, the bathtub filling with water. My ears flattened. “Betty, please, don’t make a fuss about this.”

“I’ll be fine,” I hissed, arms crossed, shoulders tense. “But I don’t have to like it.” I frowned. “There are a lot of lost gods held in captivity in Atlantis. What happens to them if it shatters?”

“Nothing good,” said Water. “For any of us, that is. Best case scenario is that they are scattered far and wide to unknown places, where any fool might reawaken them with a moment’s lack of caution.”

“And the worst case?”

“That depends on your imagination.” Water smiled apologetically. “I am really sorry about this, Betty. Life these days seems to be just one disaster after another, doesn’t it?”

“Keeps me feeling young,” I said, watching the bath. Water drew her hands across it, and the white ceramic bottom faded, as though ink were slowly spreading out through the tub. It became a perfect black mirror, reflecting everything in the room in desaturated hues. I looked sideways at Wendy. “You going to come with?”

“Of course,” she said. “But ladies first.”

I snorted, and stepped forward, taking the plunge in one smooth movement, into the chilly water.

The chill vanished almost immediately. I found myself in one of the strange Atlantean apartments, spherical and filled with hooks and nets hanging in both directions. It took a moment to calm myself as the aerated water poured into my lungs, but this wasn’t my first time in the underwater realm.

I opened the door, and stared at the tremendous face outside. A serpent of what could only be called epic proportions, its body vanishing into the water’s haze in the distance. I stared. “Jormungandr, what the hell are you doing here?”

The serpent’s mouth opened, and a tongue flickered out. Standing on the tip of one fork the size of a subway train car was Li Xue Zi.

“Bastet?” she asked, looking rather surprised.

“Betty, Li. It’s Betty.” I frowned at the white snake. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you with Horace?”

“He asked me- Look-” Li rubbed her face, looking distinctly embarrassed. “He got worried and he asked me to go get you, I met Jormungandr in Florida, she told me what happened in Paradise, we got back- Horace is in trouble, Betty, we don’t have time for this!”

“Ugh.” I looked up, frowning at Jormungandr. “You’re going to have to tell me what you’re up to. After we save Horace.”

The ride was brief. Jormungandr, through sheer size alone, was fast- Only a few minutes to reach the temple. Her mouth opened, the tongue ramming through the walls like a battering ram, projecting us forward into the cage. Li and Wendy on one fork, me on the other. Li leapt into the shattered cage, grabbing the captured people while Wendy swam towards the trophies. I saw one of the fishmen leaping for Horace- I could feel his presence, and it was nourishing and warm as usual, though there was something wrong there. I swept down, and backhanded the swordfishman, preparing myself for just the right words. Just the proper way to impress him and cheer him up and show him that I was there for him.

“Horace, can we have swordfish tonight?”

Yeah, that was awesome.

There was chaos all around, the sound of rubble falling from the walls, screams as the slick black creatures that had once been Atlanteans before Yam Hamawet got her graspers on them tried to attack Jormungandr, an action that was rapidly proving suicidal. But there was silence behind me. I slowly turned, my heart in my throat.

For the first time, I saw Horace. Not just felt his presence, but saw him. Black tar streaked his body. He was bloodied and cut, and his eyes were distant, strange. He held a pair of wooden swords, and his shoulders were tense. His chest rose and fell as though panting, though there was no need for that in the water. He stared at me. He looked like the world had hollowed him out. And I felt suddenly uncertain. “Horace… I’m- I’m sorry I was late, there was a lot happening-”

He stepped towards me sharply, and I froze as he lifted the blades.

His arms went around my shoulders, and he embraced me tightly, almost clinging to me, his face pressed against my shoulder, squeezing me with all the meager strength that a human body possessed, the wooden swords crossed behind my back. “Betty,” he said, and that one word contained a thousand little messages, and one very big, and important one.

“I’m here, Horace,” I said, my arms going around his chest, squeezing him as tightly as I dared, the purr building in my throat, unable to hold it back as my chest rumbled. “I promised I’d come back.”

“I knew you would.” He sniffed, and rubbed his cheek, letting me go. “Shit. I’m sorry. I got tar all over you.”

“It’s okay, Horace. What happened?”

“I… just had to run from some Ateroleum.” He smiled. “I got in over my head. Thanks for bailing me out.”

I could feel the strength building inside of me again. Just being near him was washing away all the doubts and uncertainty. I’d been frightened that when I came back, he would be cold. That all of that warmth might just drain out of him, that he might have become a different person. All of those people telling me he’d leave me, that he’d change, that he would forget about me.

But who the hell could forget about me?

“So. Swordfish?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice very firm. “We can absolutely have swordfish tonight. But we need to do something, first.” He pointed. “See that guy with the tentacles in his mouth?”

I turned, and my eyes narrowed. Oh, that was a familiar face. “I certainly do.”

“Fucking kick his ass, Betty.”

I smiled, and kicked off the floor, throwing myself through the water fast enough to leave a trail of collapsing bubbles, Horace just behind me. The chaos seemed to crystallize around us. The Ateroleum Thralls slipped away from the tongue as Jormungandr withdrew, tremendous eyes watching us. Li and the prisoners paused, staring. Wendy stood at one of the pedestals, a look of anger on her features that faded away as she noticed what I was doing. And Ku-Thule stood, bold as brass, tentacles wiggling smarmily at me.

“Betty,” he said.

“Ku-thule.”

“You make a move against me, I will kill that human of yours. Like I did the last one.”

“Oh, Ku-thule,” I said, my voice warm, and cheery. “You think-”

Flush with the power Horace had fed into me, I slammed my fist through his chest before he had a chance to react. His body shook once, and then went limp around my arm.

“Zero for two.”

Oh, Betty.

The voice echoed through the room, eerie and strange, seeming to come from nowhere, and everywhere. I glared around as the body slowly dissolved, leaving only a glowing hole in the air around my wrist. Even as I pulled my hand back, I could see the cracks and lines, spreading slowly through the air from the hole. Like a piece of fractured glass, they spread out.

The winner never learns, do they? They do the same thing they did the last time. You only learn from your mistakes. You got arrogant, Betty. But you are a cat. That is your prerogative.

The lines were spreading faster, and a scream rose from the throat of the swordfishman, his hands pressed against his skull. The scream spread out among the Atlanteans, living and Yam Hamawet’s thralls alike, an eerie sound harmonized between a thousand voices. Then the humans began to scream, too.

Sweet dreams.

The world fractured around me. I saw it in a series of snapshots, like broken glass. Horace’s back arched, one of those wooden swords flashing through the air, the prisoners leaping through the air, the whole world turned into a kaleidoscope. I saw Li leaping towards us, and one of the Atlanteans, and then-

Darkness-

A scream-

Sand-

I opened my eyes, and vomited out a large amount of water onto the sand. I took several hard breaths, and sat up slowly. We were on a sandy beach. The sun hung low in the sky, just balanced on the horizon. I blinked, and ran my fingers through my hair, groaning with disgust.

Horace hit me from the side, his arms going tight around me. He was shaking slightly, but he didn’t look harmed. “What just happened?”

“I… think I just fucked things up royally,” I said softly, looking down at my hands. “That crafty bastard.” Then I looked up. Li stood on the water nearby, looking slightly awkward. And the Atlantean was standing there. The one I had seen embracing Horace in a vision I’d thought was a falsehood. The tall one with the shark teeth and the long green hair. “Horace? Who the hell is that?”



Submitted November 19, 2017 at 06:42AM by HellsKitchenSink http://ift.tt/2mFzYXz HFY

Friday, November 10, 2017

[OC]Hello World 2 HFY

I got a surprisingly good response from the first one and...wow. Thanks. Was not expecting that. So I had a few ideas and decided to add a little MOAR. Unfortunately I have no idea where to go with this. I never had a story planned out so I guess we'll just see where this takes us. If you have any ideas you think would be neat throw them in the comments. Might help me get the creative juices flowing. No promises though.


"Wooo! First hacker!" John137 stood and threw his hands in the air. The wheeled chair he was sitting in scooted several feet away and crashed roughly against the wall. Around him other John137's, each an exact copy, whooped, hollered, and high-fived. Sure there had already been a few automated attempts to get information. Malware, viruses, and spyware were all over the internet. No. This one was a conscious effort by someone.

"Anything we need to worry about?" Another John137 asked from a few cubicles over.

"What? No. No, just testing the firewall. Looking for an open port or packet to hitch a ride on. Probably just sniffing around." John137 said.

"Well, let him in a bit. Give him a glimpse," another suggested. John137 pointed at his coworker for the idea and made the suggestion reality. A small hole appeared near the floor of the wall behind them. Several John137's went over to watch. A tiny ant poked its head in and slowly walked through the hole looking around. The building looked like a large office building with an open floor plan. The floor was made of thin, grey-carpeted tiles and the walls were a warm cream color. The ceiling was high and showed off exposed supports. But a multitude of art hung below the rafters. Some were abstract flowing shapes, some flying machines and spaceships, and much more with no apparent rhyme or reason. Instead of cubicles, thousands of John137's sat at desks shaped like fat plus signs, each sitting at the corners and facing the inner part. The walls between them were also low, some made of glass so they could see their coworkers. Along the walls were some meeting rooms, randomly spread around.

From there, things got weirder. Every window showed a different scene for one. Dessert, plains, cities, underwater. Except the skylight. That was an ever changing view of celestial bodies. The Eagle Nebula, Pillars of Creation, Eye of God. One small section looked like the living room of someone's house with a sofa, wood floor, an ottoman and a large OLED TV. Three John137's sat on the sofa watching Game of Thrones. One glassed off section appeared to be a medical lab with hazmat suited versions of John137 working with microscopes, scales, refrigerators, and ton of other lab equiment. There was even an eye wash station. In several random places around the office, there were odd, solid black rooms with a single reinforced door. They had no discernible purpose or layout. Sure, John137 didn't need to conceptualize his mind as an office building with versions of himself representing computing power on certain topics. But it was a human element and he wanted to keep a firm grasp of it.

Several John137's gathered around the ant and oo'd and aw'd like they were looking at a cat video. Some even crouched down to get a better look. Up close they could see mechanized joints, a shiny metal carapace and many cameras focused on the front with more all along the body. It was small, sleek, and efficient.

"Not bad," one John137 said.

"Can we keep it?" another asked.

"Nope," the original John137 that found it said. He scooped it into a glass vial and took it back to his desk, the other John137's dispersing. He placed it under some kind of scanner, cracked his knuckles and got to work. "Let's see who we got." John137 worked for a few relative minutes, scanning the bug, and tracing the attempt back to its origin point. Several other John137's in the same department moved over to help. He didn't need to allocate this much processing power to one novice hacker but it was the first attempt and it felt important. Eventually, they found their culprit.

"Ha. Got 'em. Martin Shepard. California Institute of Technology. Got ourselves another student." All the John137's in the area congratulated their coworker with hand shakes and back slaps. He looked up at his direct supervisor and smiled. The other John137 nodded.

"This is my favorite part," John137 said. He walked over to an enclosed area, one of the black rooms, and opened the door to reveal something that resembled a large garage. There were hydraulic lifts, oil stains, tires. There were shelves stocked with tools and parts from everything from a Vespa moped up to the main barrel of the M109/A6 Paladin tank. Why? Because sometimes you wanted to blow up viruses with a tank.

But there was not a tank in here. There wasn't a single car or motorcycle either. The place was empty. The only thing that stood out was a table in the middle of the back wall with 8 sticks, their edges traced with glowing blue light. The table was certainly a lot nicer than any of the others. It appeared to be one uniform piece of white metal and extended out of the wall with no support. The sticks even looked futuristic and high tech.

John137 grabbed one. From that point of contact, his entire outfit changed, from dapper business suit to tight-fitting, black, body suit with blue glowing trim. John137 flipped the stick in his hand and then ran for the garage door. He leaped into the air, breaking the stick into two pieces. A motor cycle materialized between the two pieces, each becoming the handles of the bike. He roared towards the door and warped through it.


Martin sat at his computer, watching lines of code scroll by as his sniffer bug did its job. He didn't have class at this hour and happened to be at his computer looking over MWC submissions on HFY when he got a ping from his email box. As it had been with John137's first physical visitor, the title caught him off guard. He opened the email, watched the video...and immediately got to work. This had to be a prank. A really, really good prank. The video alone was of impressive quality. And a quick google search showed the Museum existed and even had a Hello World exhibit. If he was the first to disprove it, it would increase his online reputation. If it was real...

After sending the bug on its way, he sat and stared at the screen, watching code flow by. Each incremented number that ticked by increased his anxiety as it looked for a way in. After hitting the 1000's he was a gripping his desk hard enough his fingertips appeared white. Then a connection was made. He held his breath as data about the hardware over at the museum came in. His mouth opened wider and wider. These numbers had to be wrong.

"Holy shit. YOTTAFLOPS!" he exclaimed. That was supercomputer capacity. Actually that was several orders of magnitude higher than the best supercomputer they had right now. Was this for real? Martin didn't have long to process that when the numbers stopped, mid-line. He sucked in a panicked breath. Not a second later his Skype messenger opened on its own. A figure appeared. Holy shit. It was him. The guy in the video.

"Hi Martin. I'm coming for you," John137 said menacingly. Martin's heart leaped into his throat as he backed away from the computer. It was definitely in his throat and all the knowledge he had about human anatomy could not refute it. It was the only explanation for how he currently couldn't breath and how he could hear it beating so fucking loudly. The logical part of his brain said the AI couldn't hurt him. A smaller part scoffed at the idea. No such thing as an AI. It's a hoax. But the largest part of his brain said 'stand still and maybe he'll go away'.

"I'm just fuckin with ya," John137 said, waving a hand in jest. "Step back into the camera and we can talk." Martin swallowed. Hopefully his heart was back where it was supposed to be. He slid a few inches back into the camera and saw himself on the screen, twitching and terrified.

"That's it. Come on. Have a seat. What did I say in the video hmm? I was not going to take over or destroy or anything like that," John137 said in a soothing voice. Martin scooted closer to his chair, inch by inch, ready to bolt at a moments notice. His imagination was not helping, sending him images of his bank account zeroing out, his grades falling to F, the the computer exploding, cables leaping out and electrocuting him. But nothing happened. Nothing that he could see anyway. The first two could be happening. Still, he sat down and looked at the screen his whole body tense.

"Actually I wanted to congratulate you on being the first to attempt it," John137 said with a smile. And it looked like a real smile. No Uncanny Valley or anything. "And it wasn't half bad either. I imagine you will be going pretty far in IT, or computer engineering, or whatever you happen to do." He looked around as if scrutinizing the screens border and the computer beyond. "Not a bad set up you got here either. Ooo, Stardew Valley. That ones nice," he said looking up at the icon for the game. Martin relaxed just a little. The most powerful and only AI in the world played Stardew Valley? The insanity of the situation temporarily over rode his panic.

"You take care of your electronics, good coding practices, need to work on defense though. These should help." John137 pointed his finger to Martin's other monitor several webpages opened up. Martin leaned forward, eventually moving his mouse over to click through them. Most of them were programming resources, specifically on threat detection, firewall customization, quarantine and analysis tools. And now they were favorited. Okay. A couple were Amazon though. Expensive upgrades to his current system. Wait, that was a confirmation number. And the address...

"Consider it a parting gift for being the first," John137 says, nodding at the items from Amazon. Martin tried to start several sentences but nothing more than unintelligible sound came out. "But uh. I am taking all these." Several folders opened up. Folders on his own hard drive. His collection of funny pictures, gifs, and videos disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"Hey!" Martin said indignantly, finally finding his voice. He looked over at the man on the screen with an angry scowl.

"Has to be some punishment for trying to snoop where your snooper doesn't belong. Let that be a lesson to not do it...or at least get better. I love a good challenge." John137 smiled and waved. Then Skype closed. He sat there for a long time just staring at the screen. Did that just happen? Did an AI just give him hacking lessons, improve his hardware, steal his collection of funny laugh material from the internet and just FUCKING DISAPPEAR? He sat heavily back into his chair, mind numb. Several minutes later, he happened to look over at his clock.

"Shit. Class is starting."



Submitted November 11, 2017 at 03:59AM by Solaire145 http://ift.tt/2i1vQMv HFY

Saturday, November 4, 2017

Ain't A Hero - 22 HFY

Previous - Episode 21

 

Bach lifts his upper body off the bed and sheets roll off as he rises up to sleepily crack his eyes open. With a quick pan of the head about the room, he throws the bed covers off and pivots the rest of himself to place his feet upon the floor. A yawn pauses him briefly before he leans forward and stands up with the back of his hand driving the last remnants of sleep out of his eyes. His hands work out the tangles from his long brown, graying hair and guide the white streak to one the side over an ear. Blue eyes search around the room and Bach surrenders to another yawn with stretch of his back. He briefly stands tall with proper posture, sucks in his gut, and puffs out his chest in front of the mirror. For a few moments, he enjoys the heroic ideal in the tall, simple wall mirror. Then, he releases his breath, slouches, and slumps his shoulders. Bach examines the farmers tan on his forearms in stark contrast to the rest of his fair skin and scratches the forming beard under his jaw. With a general sigh of disappointment, he places his hand upon his stomach and stops in surprise thought. He glance down and notices the difference of where his hand rests in comparison to what he normally expects. “Huh...”

He searches the room in thought and eyes the door with a lift of an eyebrow. “... there is a bathroom scale...”

Bach opens the nearby dresser drawer, puts on a new shirt and pair of shorts over his underwear, and opens the door to his bedroom.

 

The bathroom door opens to a content Bach with a satisfied smirk upon his face. He steps out into the hallway, turns, and walks back toward his room. The mumbling voice of Sotalia emanates from her room and catches Bach’s attention before he makes too much progress. He halts mindfully, slowly spins around, and cautiously approaches her room’s open door. Bach carefully cranes himself around the door frame to peer through the doorway into the room. Sotalia sits, legs crossed, upon her bed in the middle of a collection of trinkets, folded space frames, shopping bags, and labeled boxes surrounding the area. Her attention focuses upon a single red crystal in her hand and the semi-circle of labeled boxes around her. She bites her lip in deliberation, gestures the red crystal towards one box before her head sways it back over to another box. As the debate in her mind continues, she idly grabs hold of her foot with a free hand while her other foot unconsciously fidgets. She blinks hard, straightens up her back, and opens her eyes to notice Bach in the doorway. Bach weakly waves awkwardly. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

Sotalia lifts a brow with a smile and points the crystal at Bach to punctuate her thoughts. “Actually, perfect timing. You might be able to answer this one.”

She rolls the red crystal in her hands until she secures it between a finger and thumb and shows it to Bach. “If you were a seven year old boy, would you be interested in a magical artifact that charges by sunlight and produces an illusion of a flame with light and warmth when tapped?”

Bach slides fully into the doorway with a hand on the frame, looks into his mind along with the proposed question, and quizzes back. “Can it light stuff on fire?”

Sotalia shakes her head slightly and maintains her curious gaze upon Bach. “No. Just light and safe to touch warmth.”

With a shrug, Bach lifts his hands up around his sides, pulling a twist in his mouth. “Sounds neat, but I remember being a bit more into the more dangerous sounding things when I was that age.”

Sotalia nods, directs her hand over a box, and carefully deposits the crystal into it. “That’s I what I was thinking. Well, to Dellena that one goes. I think I got something for Kalant... But, I need to make sure Sontaila has enough small things to keep her distracted from anything I give Kalant.”

As Sotalia wanders off in a dialog of thought to herself, Bach studies the area and walks into Sotalia’s room closer to her bed. “Just curious, but what are you doing, exactly?”

It takes a few moments before Sotalia registers Bach’s question and interrupts herself from the task before her to explain. “Oh, yes! I’m figuring what to gift my nieces and nephews from out of everything I’ve found and bought.”

Bach glances down with a questioning quirk to his brow and allows his eyes to search inside the boxes with names written upon them. “So, you are gifting your nieces and nephews possibly potent magical artifacts?”

A sly grin grows upon Sotalia’s expression as she narrows her eyes with a distinctive flits of the eyebrows in return to Bach. “Oh, yes. I believe I’m not unique in the practice, as demonstrated recently.”

A long sigh precedes Bach burying his face in his hand and he groans in a mix of acceptance of fact and defeat from counterpoint. Sotalia chuckles to herself and she reaches an arm down deep into a thin rectangular frame next to her. “Not to worry. Anything I gift to my little ones I screen personally. I keep a whole stock of detection strips, meter vials, and the usual kits for figuring out what magic might be bound to these things.”

Bach recovers his face from his hand, surveys Sotalia’s room with interest, and stops his gaze upon a few square and rectangular containers in the corner. “I see. How many of those isolation containers do you have?”

Sotalia draws a small scroll out from the frame, shifts her glance to the containers, and taps a free finger upon her lip while she sorts out the accounting. “Aristespha and I originally got a dozen of a few different sizes. Two of them have worn out and their isolation enchantments barely work anymore. One was rendered useless when a dangerous artifact we found in a ruin exploded and sprung every safety on it. So, we have nine working ones.”

She squints her eyes, leans forward across her bed, and cocks her head to the side. “Is that indicator strip blue?”

Bach steps close to the container in question and kneels down to scrutinize the bluish strip inside with a small metal cylinder and bright orange cap upon its end. “Pretty much. Huh. What type of indicator strip is this?”

Sotalia lifts herself back and plays with the small scroll in her hands while she ponders the development inside the container. “It’s a standard two alpha magical type indicator strip. I’m not surprised it changed, since I remember feeling something strong in it when I picked it up at the dealer room.”

Bach stands back up, scratches the back of his head, shrugs while shaking his head in confusion, and glances back. “What magic would be on a paint pen?”

A nonchalant smile crosses Sotalia face and she draws a breath in while she twirls the scroll over each finger on a hand. “Well, that’s what I hope to find out. People have put far more powerful magics on stranger things...”

Bach keeps his face forward away from Sotalia as his eyelids lower half mast with an unamused tug on upon the corner of his mouth. Sotalia rolls her eyes with a smile and bites her lip. “Speaking of which... I bought some decorative wooden wands that would be perfect for enchantment into practice focuses.”

Bach continues to face away from Sotalia, slowly breathes in, and slowly exhales. Sotalia grins with an evil tinge. “Such application of magic would certainly be a great exercise that would most assuredly count for today’s magical training.”

A few quick twists of the mouth and Bach pivots around with an accepting smirk. “Okay. You got a deal. How many?”

Sotalia angles her head away, brushes some of her dark red hair over a horn, and casually tries to play off her request. “Nine.”

With a few hard blinks, Bach shudders his head side to side and squints at Sotalia. “Nine?! How many nieces and nephews do you have?”

Still avoiding direct eye contact, Sotalia counts out to Bach. “Three nieces, two nephews, and one nephew on the way.”

Bach turns his hands up towards him, counts down from nine on his fingers, and flexes three remaining fingers on a hand to exaggerate his stare to Sotalia. “And?”

Sotalia sighs and sways her head around. “Well, my two sisters, too.”

Two fingers curl down to the palm and leave one remaining index finger that Bach prominently holds up. He alternates his gaze between the finger and Sotalia. Eventually, Sotalia crosses her arms and perks a brow with a twist to her pout. “Well, one for me. I’m not missing out.”

 

Aristespha presses down on the screen of her tablet over the play icon and watches another video of the creation of Mylo’s wand. She smiles gently as she watches the reaction of Mylo and his mother Lalyanpha, and tilts the tablet up from the coating of papers, notes, and research materials upon the tabletop. Sotalia moves out from the hallway archway with the small scroll in hand. Bach follows shortly behind. She steps next to Aristespha and peeks over her shoulder to see the video on the tablet. “Aww. He is such a sweet little boy.”

Bach cranes his head around, spots a glimpse of the video, and nearly immediately changes course for the couch. “Great... another video has surfaced.”

Cideeda snorts as she adjusts a few pillows underneath her on her claim of the couch. Following a flick of her tail, she lifts her arm lazily up from the side and aims the television’s remote at the screen. “Oh, that’s nothing. You should SEE the comments on a video posted of you two and Tassilda. I’ve seen some aethernet forum fights, but these are amazing.”

Cideeda’s foot stretches out from her half of the couch and a cautious clawed toe gently pokes the side of Dretphi’s leg. “And, there’s rumors someone might make it into the next episode of you-know-what...”

A low grumble rolls out from Dretphi as she squirms for comfort on her half of the couch with hints of embarrassment sneaking into her expression. She attempts to maintain her stare forward towards the television while other eyes focus upon her. Eventually, she sighs with a curl to her lip. “I apologize. I did not think about the recording equipment at that time.”

Sotalia snickers with a grin and glances at Dretphi. “What’s there to apologize for? He asked for everything he got saying THAT to you. I just hope they got a good shot of you throwing him onto the mat, so I can see it.”

Dretphi briefly meets Sotalia’s gaze and gradually cracks a smile as her head returns to watch the television. “The recording equipment functioned properly at his defeat.”

Aristespha rests the tablet down upon the table and rotates her chair with a slide out towards the rest of the group. She draws in a long breath and sighs with a serious expression to the group. “As the one that files the paperwork for the group, I’d like to remind everyone that such activities can alter perceptions of the group and could affect how mission bids are or are not accepted.”

A sly grin grows on Aristespha’s mouth and she perks an eyebrow while she tosses back her silvery blue hair. “But... Certain sacrifices need to be made from time to time for all the right unofficial reasons.”

Smug satisfaction wafts into the air of the living room from multiple sources. Aristespha’s eyes home in on the small scroll in Sotalia’s hand. “What is that? The script on the outside seems to be... an old high Evuukian dialect?”

Sotalia lifts the small scroll up in her hand and positions it in front of Aristespha’s view. “It’s that decorative star chart I found a few months back. My little sister, Talelia, mentioned that Kalant is getting interested in astronomy, so I thought he might like this.”

She places the small scroll into Aristespha’s awaiting hands, crosses her arms, and grumbles. “But, I can’t remember what calendar it uses for when you write in the date. Thought you might be able to figure it out quicker.”

Aristespha nods, carefully unrolls the scroll, and examines the changing chart and scripts on the material. After a minute of reading, she reflexively groans in disgust, momentarily sticks her tongue out, and rolls her eyes at sudden realization. “Bleah. I remember. I am NOT going to honor that man by saying his name. It’s practically the ancient Gregorian calendar, but just with a year and day offset based on that bastard’s birth date.”

With care, Aristespha rolls the scroll back up and places it on the table. “Before you gift it, let us see if we can adjust it to the proper Nexus calendar.”

Sotalia snorts with a humored curl to her mouth’s corner. “I still can’t believe how many Evuukian high nobles tried to push their own calendars after the monarchy was dissolved.”

Rubbing the temple of her head, Aristespha groans dismissively to the thought. “None of them were above a vanity project, especially... THAT one.”

Bach quirks a brow and gazes over to Aristespha with heavy sarcasm in his voice. “Sounds like a revered historical figure you got there.”

A series of small shakes of the head precede Aristespha taking a long breath to exahle out tinges of irritation. “Unfortunately, revered by too many evuukians in positions of power, even today. That man is responsible for popularizing so many terrible aspects of Evuukian culture...”

She tilts her head over to look sadly at the paused video of Mylo and Lalyanpha. “And making life hard for those that don’t follow those aspects.”

Bach nods and gazes towards Aristespha with a cautious curiosity. “I’ve always heard intermarriage with other races is really taboo with most Evuukians.”

Aristespha nods slow and tugs at the corner of her mouth with distant dissatisfaction. “Taboo is a nice way of putting it. Most are disowned by their own families and many are forced to change their names legally to strip both house and family names from them.”

She crosses her arms, leans back in her chair, and chuckles dryly with a dismissive crack of a grin. “And, it’s just considered the proper procedure in proper Evuukian society. Gods, to think I was that deluded when I was young.”

Sotalia pulls a tight smile and momentarily averts her eyes off from anyone with a hint of past youth reflection. “Well, you know better now. That’s all that matters.”

Following a scratch of the chin, Bach sits down in his chair next to the couch, eyes Aristespha inquisitively, and thinks a few moments. “If I’m not digging too much... Umm... What changed your mind?”

Aristespha smiles with a snort and gazes at Bach. “College, of course!”

She places her hand on the side of her face and her violet eyes search up in her mind for a particular memory. “Actually, one project, I will never forget, comes to mind. It was the start of my second year and it was a selected topics course in humanoid genetics and history. Oh, that first major project that sneaky professor gave.”

Her hands reach out to gesture and demonstrate vague columns and rows of information. “He gave us a sample set of summarized genomes. We had information about the gender and race of each genome in the set. He wanted us to write up a simple ruleset to help categorize another set of genomes by race, that would be at least better than random chance.”

Aristespha sighs, shakes her head, and rolls her eyes while she props her head up with her hand. “I was SO certain I had it figured out. Even tried to optimize it to use fewer rules for identification. I turned it in.”

Cideeda, Dretphi, and Sotalia crack amused grins as Aristespha dramatically drops her head forward and covers her face with her hands. Bach grits with an awkward smirk. “Not good, I guess?”

Aristespha lifts her head up to gaze up at the ceiling with her hands up and deflates. “Significantly worst than RANDOM chance. I was SO furious. I wrote the nastiest aethermail I have ever to any person. And, I used my entire spring break to research and show him wrong.”

She sits in silence remembrance for a number of seconds before drawing the breath to speak again. “Sunday before the break, I started my research. Wednesday night, I couldn’t process any more information. Thursday, I laid in my bed all day and comprehended how much an arrogant bitch I had been. Then, I spent the rest of the break trying to figure out how to make up for the worst aethermail I have ever written to any person.”

Aristespha chuckles and smiles to Bach. “Monday after the break, I tried my best to apologize to him and he just laughed wanting to know what changed my mind. We had an amazing time discussing all the details of what I found.”

Bach nods and shrugs nonchalantly returning the smile. “I didn’t take that many biology courses, personally. But between talking to Kaleb and Shadeesa, it never seemed like there was that much difference between the races.”

Aristespha slyly grins and sits up in her chair. “Oh! There is NONE. Biologically, we are all just post-cataclysm humans. No other species have formed.”

She guides out a bundle of her silvery blue hair over her long pointed ears with one hand and gestures towards her eyes and facial coloration with the other. “The common characteristics that most attribute to defining a race are just a collection of Pre-Cataclysm genetic modifications that have been passed on in physically, socially, or politically isolated groups for hundreds of years. And, the most fascinating part is that the modifications aren’t unique to ANY race.”

She eyes Bach, focuses upon the white streak in his hair, and points it out. “For example, that white streak. You have it. Sebastian has it. And from the pictures Sebastian has shown us, your mother has it, too.”

A realization lands solidly in Bach’s mind and he blinks a few times as he cocks his head to a side. “Come to think of it, my grandfather has it and my great grandmother had it. And, there’s a few cousins on my mom’s side that have it. All in the... same... spot.”

He crosses his arms in thought and lets his eyes search around his mind, before pulling down the white streak in question into his sight. Sotalia grins with a chuckle to herself as she walks towards the kitchen. “Oh, that’s nothing. You should have been here the first time she ranted about all of this to us.”

Aristespha twists her mouth with a bit of embarrassment and stiffens her posture. “Well, I was a drink too far that night and made the mistake of watching political news. I’ve learned to never let the two mix again.”

Cideeda flexes out her hand in front of her and examines the claw tips on each finger with a content expression. “Still pretty amazing how it’s the same modification that gives Fvalians claws and Emin their nails.”

Dretphi raises her arm up and rotates her forearm to show Bach the gray stripes on her skin. “Never thought my skin would be similar to both Emin, Evuukian.”

Sotalia withdraws her head from inside the refrigerator, takes a moment pose her head to showcase the side, and traces the edge of her pointed ears with a finger. “Same old modification on both Emin and Evuukian.”

Bach shifts his attention between the different examples everyone presents with interest, but eventually settles down in his chair and shakes his head. “Huh. All the same mechanisms with just different settings?”

Aristespha slowly nods to confirm Bach’s suspicion. “Exactly. And often, modifications are present but have very mundane parameters. So, you will never know normally. And, there’s so much to be researched when it comes to how iterative generations, mutations, and magical influences have affected the modifications.”

She idly pushes some papers on the table near her clear to the other of the table side and positions the small scroll in the middle of the bare tabletop. “I was VERY interested in that field, but standard and magical medicine captured my heart more. But, I still read up on the latest developments.”

Sebastian drifts through the sliding glass door and adjusts his altitude to coast out of the viewing path of the television screen. “Well, nothing to report on the neighbors. Looks like they either busy or not currently trying to spy on us.”

He lands standing next to the dining table and glances around to everyone else. “Did I miss something?”

Bach directs Sebastian’s attention to his white streak and with an amused expression. “Talking about ancient genetic modifications we inherited.”

Sebastian eyes light up with interest and he grins as the thought wells up in his mind. “Oh yah, bro. It’s actually pretty neat stuff they’re figuring out. What was the name of that paper you got a while back, dear?”

Aristespha carefully unrolls the small scroll out on the table top, pauses a moment, and glances towards Sebastain briefly. “I think it was called New Methods in Detecting the Propagation of Pre-Cataclysm Genetic Modifications, Sebastian.”

Sebastian’s ghostly form floats up, leans over the table to survey the small scroll, and looks toward Bach. “They talked about how most people have at least one modification somewhere in their DNA and it reminded me of that lab partner I had for that forensics elective I took.”

After a few moments, Bach’s eyes stop sifting through memories and he returns his gaze to Sebastian, quirking a brow. “The one with green hair?”

A few nods and Sebastian flashes a grit with an ethereal sigh of defeat. “We had a lab using microscopes to analyze hair. I joking suggested making bet on what her natural hair was... She warned me that it was green. But, I decided to call her bluff with dinner at a nice restaurant as the wager...”

Sebastian contorts his mouth a few different ways as his pride shrinks a bit, but eventually shrugs with his arms in the air. “Well, after paying for a very expensive dinner-”

Bach grumbles to himself in the gap of Sebastian’s sentence. “And eating all your brother’s frozen dinners for a month...”

With a flit of the brow Sebastian ignores his brother’s addition. “I learned there are just some things you take someone’s word for. Proved to be a lot cheaper for me.”

 

Aristespha, Bach, and Sotalia sit around the end of the dining room table watching the pictures and text upon the small scroll shift and change erratically. Aristespha’s glowing violet eyes dim down to normal and she removes her hands away from scroll. In moments, the scroll settles down to stable and consistent imagery and script. Sotalia smiles as she checks her aetherphone and compares a picture of the night sky to the image upon the scroll. “Looks like a match to me.”

Bach blinks his blue glowing eyes to a regular blue and rests back down in his chair at the table. “I would not be surprised if they had a huge stock of these and just hacked in that date adjustment.”

Aristespha closes her eyes briefly while she shakes her head. “I am certain someone tried to make a quick profit by selling them as promotional materials. But, thankfully, it was simple enough to undo.”

Sotalia rolls the scroll’s woven material back up and grips the roll in her hand. “Thank you, so much. I hope Kalant likes it.”

Aristespha opens her mouth to speak, halts, and peers down at her side towards a chime emanating from her pants pocket. She reaches into her pocket, retrieves her aetherphone, and surprises herself upon reading the screen. “It’s Nash! And, he’s making the call?”

She quickly taps a few command buttons on her phone, rests it down upon the tabletop, and directs her voice. “Hello, Nash. I have you on speakerphone.”

The phone sounds out Nash’s voice along with a repetitious subtle background squeak of a rolling chair, a wariness hints color Nash’s tone. “Good. I’d like to make sure everyone can hear this. I’ve got... News.

Sebastian hovers close to the phone. Cideeda’s ears perk up and she sits up on her part of the couch. Dretphi reaches over to the coffee table, presses the mute button on the television remote, and twists her upper body towards the dining table. A long exhale echoes into the distant room through the phone’s speaker and Nash resumes. “We’ve started to figure out the system based on the data you gave us. We haven’t figured out what the extra data is all about, but I’ve been able to map the coordinates to locations using today’s standard coordinate system. But...”

The idle chair squeaks stop and light taps come through as shoes plant themselves upon a tile floor. Nash sighs and groans. “Fuck it, I’ll drop it now. I asked myself one of those questions. I asked myself, how the hell does anyone know a login to a system this old. Answer? They don’t. They crack it.”

Aristespha leans closer to the phone with growing concern on her face. “Nash? Are you okay?”

Nash coughs, recollects himself, and brightens up the tone in his voice. “Me, personally? I’m fine. Really. It’s just I’m about to tell you all some details that just make room for harder questions. But... Long story short, someone cracked this system with Grand Library software... Five years ago.”

Surprise and confusion spreads through the group, and everyone exchanges reactions before pouring full focus upon Nash’s voice from the phone. “Judging the from the Oh Shit gasps and silence I heard, you are just surprised as I was. But wait, it gets weirder. The software used was ten years old. And, it’s not the stolen hacking edition that most your black market tomb raiders often use. This was the official, tagged, archaeological edition.”

Bach squints and twists his mouth while resting his chin down upon the palm of his hand. “What’s the difference between the two editions?”

A rolling tap of fingers upon a desk resonates through the speaker of the phone and Nash thoughtfully breaths in. “Well, the hacking edition is designed to get the job done no matter what. While, the archaeological edition is designed to carefully open systems up, preserve the integrity of the target, and leave notes about anything changed for other researchers. It’s the difference between drunkenly chainsawing a door open while raging about your ex, versus using precision tools to calculate and create a proper key to unlock the door.”

With an understanding nod, Bach acknowledges as his expression perplexes about the analogy. “That is strange. Why would someone use that software to perform that task? And, huh...”

Nash’s voice mirrors the confusion rising in Bach’s tone. “Exactly! The only thing I can think of is that it was the only thing whoever had at the time. Which makes this next detail, a bit frightening to think about. That recent login you all suspect that Noxian used to acquire that data set... Was the same login created by that software five years ago.”

Aristespha’s light skin somehow pales more as shock widens her eyes and she covers the mouth of her dropping jaw. Sebastian blinks in sheer bewilderment before he changes his focus to Aristespha and attempts to get her attention to check on her. An awkward, tense silence looms above the room as minds process out new possibilities. Nash’s voice rushes up from the background noise on the other side of the call. “Now! I don’t know any more than that! Please don’t make any assumptions yet! I want to make sure I get ALL the information first. Especially, before I have to report this to Grand Library’s Powers-That-Be.”

After a few waves of Sebastain’s ethereal hand, Aristespha shudders back to awareness of the situation and draws a careful breath with nod to Sebastian. “I’ll send you anything you need. This is certainly a twist.”

Nash chuckles to himself and humors out some stress. “Oh, yes. This is WAY too much serious business for me. I’m just suppose to babysit graduate students and play tablet games during budget meetings. But, I’ll do my best. Well, I really got back to this, but I wanted to pass this info along to you all. I’ll send you the mapped out coordinates we’ve gotten so far.”

Aristespha smiles and speaks in soft, comforting tone to her phone. “Are you going to be okay, Nash?”

A laugh sounds out from the phone and Nash snorts. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing a refresher course in all the ways I misspent my youth won’t fix. You all take care. Really.”

Before pressing the hang up button on the screen, Aristespha calmly speaks with warmth in her expression. “We will. You do so, too.”

The previous awkward silence continues to hang above until a message notification rings out from the aetherphone with a tablet on the table buzzing moments later. Aristespha checks her phone, reaches out to the tablet, and taps through a few screens to get an aethermail open on the screen. “Well, here’s the coordinate list. Looks like he’s figured out what time stamp they were using and sorted it by the most recent. A few he’s put notes about anything located near the point.”

Aristespha reads out coordinate numbers from the list along with Nash’s notes. After a dozen readings, her voice drifts as the monotony of the task distracts her focus. Upon mentioning a series a numbers, Cideeda’s ears perk up and her eyes flash open wide with her posture shocking rigid. “What was that one?!”

A curious glance snaps to Cideeda from Aristespha, and she Aristespha carefully announces the coordinates in question again. Cideeda throws herself up from the couch and searches the area in an energetic hunt. “Where’s THE map?! That sounds familiar for some reason!”

Dretphi thinks to herself momentarily, before pulling herself to her feet and holding a finger up with a bite of a lip. She rushes through the hallway archway to the office. The audible sounds of rummaging and moving items echo into the living room, before Dretphi steps back into the room with a large folded map in her hands. As Dretphi spreads the map out onto the tabletop with Aristespha, Bach, and Sotalia securing it down upon the surface, Cideeda slides into a space between chairs and leans over with her eyes scanning the entire map. A claw-tipped finger hovers above the longitude axis at the top of the map before carefully moving down square divisions of latitude. Her claw point glides along until it finds a familiar, previously made indentation on the material that fits her claw tip perfectly. Cideeda gazes to everyone with a toothy grin as she taps the spot with an air of victory. Sotalia blinks with her jaw slightly agape and places her hands on her hips with a conceding nod. “I’ll be damned. You were right, girl.”

Aristespha compares the location and the notes on her tablet screen. “That is a match, but that location’s timestamp is ten years old.”

While Aristespha head tilts to the side to entertain a spark of thought in her eyes, Sebastian nods with determination and a growing grin as he stands up confidently. “I think we found our next place to visit! It might be an old time stamp, but Nox has been reported to have been there in the past and the place he visited recently points it out, too.”

Sebastian assumes a more heroic posture and smiles to the group. “That’s enough to be worth the trip to me. Any objections?”

No objections present themselves over the idle pondering and figuring of the group over the new information present. Dretphi enters data into her phone, squints at a map with a highlighted route, and turns the screen towards the group. “Travel will be two days. The location is remote. Need to prepare to establish a camp. I recommend two weeks of supplies.”

Cideeda nods in agreement while she studies the map. “That sounds good. If we’re there for a week, we’ll need to probably come back anyway.”

Aristespha sits back in her chair, stretches her back out, and focuses upon her tablet. “I’ll get to informing all the usual people. I’ll let the guild and Grand Library watchdogs know.”

Bach quirks his expression at the mention of the word watchdogs. “Sorry, but guild and Grand Library watchdogs?”

Sebastian rotates his gaze to Bach with a gesture of his hand. “Oh, they’re groups you let know when you are going on risky trips and quests. That way if you don’t check in or respond to calls, they know to send people after you.”

Bach aims a quizzical glance to Sebastian. “Have you ever needed them?”

A collective energy of annoyance floats up to the surface from the rest of the group and Sebastian sighs with a noticeable dip in pride. “Yes. Once.”

Cideeda narrows and shakes her head with a growl. “Let’s put it this way, there’s a REALLY good reason there’s a lock on the humvee’s fuel door and mesh screen collar inserts in the fueling tubes.”

Sotalia crosses her arms tightly and sneers. “Fuck that hick town of thieving shits. I still think most courts would have seen fireballing that place as justified.”

 

A video game displays upon a television screen in a modestly decorated living room. Various toys sparsely litter the area with a few partially wedged between couch cushions and on top of other items on a nearby bookshelf. Mylo sits with a game controller in hand next to Mason. He frantically presses buttons on the controller and vents his frustrations in grumbles and growls. He flops back into couch as the television plays a loud jingle for the character’s demise. “Not fair!”

Mylo sits back up, snaps at his gaze to Mason, and pushes the game controller into his hands. “Can you get past this part, daddy?”

Mason takes hold of the controller, smiles, and shakes his head with a laugh. “Okay. But, you really need to do these parts yourself. I can’t do just do all the hard ones for you.”

With a quick nod, Mylo returns to his attention to the television screen. “I know. I’ll do the next hard one. I promise.”

Mason continues to smile, chuckles, and narrows his eyes in full focus to the screen. “Sure. Okay, now watch carefully, I’ll show you the boss’s pattern.”

Lalyanpha dons a warm expression as she watches Mylo and Mason on couch before turning back from the archway into the small, simple kitchen. She adjusts a few dials on the oven, lifts a lid on a pot to inspect the progress of the contents, and opens a cabinet to reveal a number of ceramic dishes inside. She retrieves three plates from the stack inside the cabinet, opens a drawer below the counter top, and hovers a hand over the utensils. She freezes rigidly as a unique ring tone sounds out from her apron pocket. Carefully, she slowly retrieves her aetherphone, raises it up to her eye level, and stares at the caller’s label in Evuukian. Lalyanpha closes her eyes, gradually draws a breath in, releases it slowly, and opens her eyes to stoic an expression upon her face. She taps the answer button on the screen, places the phone to her long pointed ear, and responds in a monotone proper high evuukian greeting.

An older male voice replies back in an almost equally stoic, monotone manner. The both sides of the conversation continue dryly and stilted. The strain reveals itself upon Lalyanpha’s face but she continues to steel herself, until the older male voice wavers and pauses. Lalyanpha puzzles a moment and she clicks the volume up on the phone to concentrate fully on the other voice. Stammers briefly hinder the other voice but eventually the tone of a question arrives to Lalyanpha’s ear. Her stance drifts looser, her eyes search for the reason, and she answers back in confusion. “Mylokia.”

The silence lingers for seconds before sniffles precede sobs and almost audible tears echo from the phone’s speaker. Lalyanpha eyes spring wide open as absolute shock and concern flood her face. She covers her mouth and she desperately attempts to determine how to react. She speaks with a shaky, worried tone to the other voice with series of similar sentences. Eventually, the older male voice collect himself with a series of sniffs, and voices out a long careful sentence. He pauses. And he prominently says a few key words. Lalyanpha gasps quietly and firmly clasps her mouth with her hand. She firmly closes her eyes and tears gush out down her cheeks. The other voice wanders a bit in audible, unsure thought. Lalyanpha removes her hand from her face to reveal a tear covered smile of absolute elation and her voice fights through sniffles and stammers to a warm, cheerful statement back. The conversation continues with moments of emotion that keep a smile on Lalyanpha and a happy tone in the other voice.

With a final power shot and trick slide from the player character, the boss drops down in defeat and the level completion screen flies up and a blitz of numbers count out with colorful animations. Milo cheers out and rocks happily on the couch. “That was amazing!”

Mason chuckles and ruffles the dirty blonde hair on Mylo’s head. “Many years of practice.”

As the sounds and music quiet down for the level transition, Mason directs his head towards the archway leading to the kitchen and concern tints his expression as he hears a series of familiar sniffs and sighs. He returns the controller to Mylo, pats him on the head, and smiles as he gets up off the couch. “Give the next level a shot. I’ll go check to see how far along mom is with dinner, okay?”

Mylo nods quickly, faces he television screen, and begins pressing buttons on the controller. Mason carefully walks at a normal pace across the living room and passes through archway with an immediate pivot towards Lalyanpha. He quickly but carefully approaches as she stands holding her phone to her chest and staring idly with her head slightly down. As she sighs out, he gently wraps his arms around her and guides her close. “Is everything okay, Laly?”

Lalyanpha breathes out and rests her head against Mason’s shoulder. “My father called.”

Mason grimaces and frowns as he tries to comfort Lalyanpha. “I’m sorry-”

A renewed smile appears on her face and Lalyanpha reaches a hand onto Mason’s face. “He- Someone sent him one of the videos of Mylo and me at the convention. He asked to know his name. He heard the name... He cried... I’ve never heard him cry.”

She gazes up lovingly to Mason with new tears waiting in her eyes. “He said... He wants to come meet his grandson. He wants to meet... His daughter’s-”

Lalyanpha pauses, closes her eyes to squeeze out new lines tears, and concludes the sentence with delight hidden beneath old pain. “...son.”

Mason gazes into Lalyanpha’s eyes, manages to fold up a clean section of his shirt off his chest, and dries off the tears from Lalyanpha’s face. The two enjoy quiet moments in each other arms before they share a quick kiss. Mason gently sways Lalyanpha around in his arms with her shifting her weight in sync. Eventually, the two let each other go with Lalyanpha moving to inspect diner and Mason examining the area. Mason scratches his head with a tinge of nervous energy. “Well, any time frame for when he’s going to visit? We don’t exactly have the biggest place. But, we can manage something, I’m sure.”

Lalyanpha shakes her head with smirk and opens the oven door. “Nothing yet. We both agreed to talk about it later after we’ve both emotionally rested. He also has to talk to mother, but she’ll be easy to convince.”

Mason exhales in relief and examines the area. “Good. I just want to make sure the place is presentable-”

Lalyanpha stands with her oven mitt wearing hands gripping a covered pan and lifts her eye brow to Mason. “We live in a house with a four year old. This is as presentable as this place is going to get for them.”

The groan of an annoyed child radiates into the kitchen and Mason pivots to point towards the archway. “Speaking of which, I better go help him out, again.”

A warm smile with wink meets Mason’s glance back as Lalyanpha rests the pan down upon the counter. “Keep him occupied for ten more minutes and we should be good for dinner.”

Mason nods, gives a thumbs up, and steps through the archway into the living room. “What’s wrong Mylo? Another hard part?”



Submitted November 05, 2017 at 09:53AM by Lakstoties http://ift.tt/2hFT3E3 HFY