TL;DR: Discovered FIRE at age 26 with $172,000 in student debt. My wife and I rearranged our entire life to hit FI as quickly as possible - Heavy work schedule, plus planning to build NW with BRRRR (Buy, Rehab, Rent, Refinance, Repeat). We are now ~seven years in (out of then-estimated 12 total) and decided to slow down: sold the rental units, paid off the personal mortgage (both financial 'mistakes' I'm very happy with) and am taking a more relaxed, surefire path to FI involving low (but comfortable) expenses, no rentals, and reducing work schedule. Journey, thoughts, and numbers below.
Journey before destination.

This is way longer than I intended; it also has all the info in it I enjoy hearing about other people’s FIRE journeys. . . sorry for the length.

Background (Skip this if you want; I enjoy reading these, so I lay it out for others)

I had terrible money habits growing up: they continued until I was 26. Really bad. I grew up on foodstamps, and we never had any excess money; anything that came in went right back out on expenses. I’d like to say they were necessities, but looking back. . . I think we could have done a lot better. The scarcity mindset that living at the financial edge instills is real, and I continued to spend every dollar available to me (by work or by loan) until I stumbled across FIRE. Constantly racked up credit card debt, and took every dollar that was ever available on student loans.
I regret taking the amount of student loans we did; we could have done less (though not anywhere near zero) They say “That first 100K is hardest”, but it’s really that “That first 100K from zero is hardest” because if you hit a low point of -172,000, compound interest doesn’t really help you for that first 272K. . .
Income/expenses listed are at the end of that calendar year.

2011, age 24:

Graduated in 2011 with a Civil Engineering Degree, wife was a student, working on a Masters in Public Health. This was the absolute peak of the financial crisis for engineering. I took a (not quite full time) temp job as a web developer making $20/hr, and we maxed out taking my wife’s student loans:
Income: 31K me, 0K wife, 31K comb || Exp: ~40K || NW: -$163,000

2012:

Wife graduated grad school halfway through the year and got a fellowship for $24/hr. My temp work finished halfway through the year, and I ‘worked’ full-time applying to engineering jobs. Finally got one after a few hundred resumes, but wouldn’t start until just into the new year, 2013. Which left that year at:
Income: 12K me, 26K wife, 38K comb || Expenses: ~40K || NW: -$172,000

2013, age 26: the tipping point year for FIRE

Note that we moved significanly backwards the previous year in net worth due to student loan interest and spending. . .
Started a job as an engineer! $52k per year ($25/hr). Straight salary, with a terrible (in retrospect) company. Worked a ton of hours, but only got paid the base salary. I shudder to think what my hourly rate (working a lot of 70 hour weeks) actually was averaged over this year. . . Still a financial step up!
Discovered FIRE. I cannot stress enough how big of a change this made for my wife and me. My wife was naturally a frugal person (I was not) but we both had otherwise terrible habits. Once about my third real check rolled in I googled “Student Loan Repayment” and in the process of trying to find a more robust calculator (I was looking for, essentially, unbury.us, though I didn’t know at that time it existed) and happened to stumble across Mr. Money Mustache in February.
I would like to pause for a minute to point out how terrible of a name this is: I can credit this one website with legitimately changing my life in a very positive way, but if I ever try to explain what this life-altering blog was, it’s. . . mister money mustache. Sigh.
I was consumed. In less than a month I had read everything (and I mean everything) on MMM, MadFientist, and JL Collins; I devoured Your Money or Your Life, Rich Dad, Poor Dad and The Richest Man in Babylon. My wife and I planned out our financial goals (Get student loan free, then try to retire in 15 years; will finish well ahead of this) and drastically reduced expenses. Started aggressively paying down student loans by ‘minimum payment amount’ first to reduce our DTI ratio, hoping to qualify for a mortgage.
I became obsessed with the idea of having a miniature empire of rental units that would help me reach FI faster: small, clean, well-maintained places that I loved and the tenants loved. Planned to ‘house hack’ by getting a duplex and living in half – the worse shape the better! I’d always been handy, I was looking forward to sweat equity. Started looking for a house in May.
Got married in July of this year; I suppose all previous references to ‘wife’ should read fiancé before this. . .
Bought a duplex: We were approved for a mortgage due to having some long repayment lengths on student loans which kept our DTI ratio on just the right side of acceptable, and bought an absolute shithole of a duplex with 3% down in November in a pretty nice neighborhood in Minneapolis. This was $196K, which seemed really high from the lows of 2009; that sounds funny in retrospect now looking back, but everyone was worried it was the midst of a second bubble at the time. Moved in to one half, and inherited some tenants in the other. Started rapidly fixing it up with every spare hour I had, as I was still working about 60 hours a week on average.
It was a busy year.
Income: 52K me, 44K wife, 96K comb || Expenses: ~50K || NW: -$140,000

2014:

Hey, the NW is moving the right direction!! But now we reach “the boring middle” part of FIRE. My wife got a full time job with benefits (as opposed to a fellowship) with a pay bump. I got a 12% raise from my terrible company, mostly in response to threatening to leave due to working conditions. Working conditions did not improve. At the end of the year I switched companies (wont’ be reflected in this years salary) to the place I’m still with. They are a hugely better company to work for, and they pay for every hour I work. The pay was about the same per hour, but since I was working 60hweek I essentially got a 50% raise.
We began to live on just my wife’s paycheck, and used 100% of mine to pay off student loans/invest. This hasn’t changed to this day. . . except we now also invest some of hers.
Income: 58K me, 56K wife, 114K comb || Expenses: ~50K || NW: -$97,000
More of the same, paying off student loans in 2016, continuing the aggressive saving until 2020. . .

2016: Income: 86K me, 70K wife, 156K comb || Expenses: ~50K || NW: -$33,000
2017: Income: 101K me, 72K wife, 173K comb || Expenses: ~60K || NW: $45,000
2018: Income: 93K me, 74K wife, 167K comb || Expenses: ~48K || NW: $110,000
2019: Income: 92K me, 75K wife, 167K comb || Expenses: ~48K || NW: $300,000
2020: Income: 110K me, 76K wife, 186K comb || Expenses: ~48K || NW: $700K

Note that NW has some weird jumps once we got past zero because the duplex went from essentially zero cash flow (lot of costs going in tended to burn all the rental income) to positive cash flow as we started to wrap the years of renovations, to a huge jump upon sale.

2020: Deciding to Simplify (Start again here, this is the point of the post!)

We had a kid.
I had already been getting worn out of rental maintenance, especially as we had moved out of the duplex entirely and were renting both halves, now that it was nice. Working a ton, and feeling like between a (more than) full time job, child, and rental, something had to give. It was amazingly difficult to find a decent rental manager.
Our personal expenses had slowly shrunk down to be about $4,000/month, $1,500 of which was the mortgage on our new house. In addition were the duplex costs, and the possibility that I had to have enough cash reserves to cover three furnaces, three water heaters, three stoves; also potential vacancies, other big ticket items (like a $14,000 roof job on the duplex, water damage from ice dams, etc) that were always potentially looming.
The rental income did cover these expenses: The duplex was working as a business. But I was having basically $7,000 a month in expenses despite a fairly frugal lifestyle that had to be covered; $84,000 a year that had to be earned and burned no matter what. My wife took a big chunk of time off for maternity, and I wanted to do significantly less, but this ‘burn rate’ was weighing on me.
Our three biggest expenses were the duplex, our house, and taxes. Taxes are as low as they can be (all tax-advantaged accounts maxed out) and I’m happy to give back to the education and food programs that helped me, growing up. But, I could sell the duplex, and roll all the profit into the new mortgage, and potentially go from needing to earn and burn $84,000 per year to $30,000. . .

Rent out vs. Sell

I ran the numbers on if I kept the duplex, vs selling and investing it in the stock market. I looked over the the next 6 years, which is about/past my FIRE date. My estimated net worth difference would be around $80,000! Nothing to sneeze at! However, it also would be the difference between ~$1.3M and ~1.2M, both of which are over my FIRE number of $950K for 3.25% SWR. If this had been the difference between $0 and $100K, that’d be huge. That 1st 100K is the hardest. The 13th 100K, however, is not.
I also had the added wrinkle that if we sold in 2020, it counts as a primary residence, and we don’t pay gains tax on the part we had lived in two of the last five years; this reduced the calculated 80k difference.
Purposeful “Mistake” number 1: The duplex is gone.
Was it worth an 8% reduction in net worth in 6 years to me to not have to deal with the rental property with a young child or two? A thousand times yes. I will have, I think, significantly less wealth in 30 years because I sold the rental duplex back in July. But I will have enough either way, and I shall never get these years back.
I think buying, renovating, and renting that duplex was the best single financial action I ever took. I’m happy I ground it out and did the completely hellish task of gutting a 110 year old building in the evenings around a 60hweek job. I also don’t think I’ll ever do it again. . .

Pay off Mortgage vs Invest

What about, now that I’ve sold the duplex, putting it all in the market vs. paying off our home mortgage? The numbers are pretty simple:
5% real returns in the stock market (8% returns, 3% inflation, assumed). Mortgage was, by happenstance, almost the same amount we got out in cash from the duplex, $153K. We would then not have to pay the $1500/month that was going to principal and interest, and could invest that. All number – as always – in 2021 dollars for simplicity.

$153K invested for 6 years at 5% real gives you $205k.
$1,500/month invested for 6 years at 5% real gives you $125K.
A difference of, again, $80,000. At least I’m consistent. . .

This one was much harder; I really wanted to reduce my ‘burn rate’, but this basically means that selling the duplex and using that to immediately pay off my mortgage made us (statistically) $160,000 poorer in about 6 years, another $80k of gains gone.
However, despite me not believing (allegedly) in timing the market, the CAPE is currently quite high. . . and I’m getting awfully close to being able to FIRE anyways, 4-8 years, pending variables. I also intend to transition my 100% equities to a 100/60/100 V-shaped Bond Glide to maximize safety at the cost of potential gains. I also believe that it doesn’t make sense to carry a mortgage into early or regular retirement. These aren’t just numbers in a spreadsheet, I actually have to be able to shift the funds to be able to do this, in a way that’s not crippling from a tax perspective. It’s going to take years to shift to a bond allocation slowly; trying to pay the mortgage off at the same time could very well be impossible.
I don’t have a target FIRE date; I intend to work less and less as I slide into ER, and having the mortgage paid off means that my wife and I can do this whenever we want, without having to do 5 years of financial maneuvering in the background to ‘pull the trigger’.
The flexibility is worth it. Purposeful “Mistake” number 2: The mortgage is gone..
We now live very comfortable – I would say luxurious – lives on about $2,500/month. This will increase sporadically for large trips and childcare, but is our past and current expenses, and will be further in the future too. I intend to build a fairly large cushion in passive income over this for unforeseen events, then charity, if those don’t materialize, but we don’t feel impoverished in any way at this spending level.
We are privileged enough, lucky enough, and determined enough to now be making about $45/hr each gross, $36/hour each takehome. This means we need to work a combined 70 hours in a month to be able to cover our expenses; that’s 35 hours each, or an average about 8 hours a week throughout the year. We are primed to be able to slowly “BaristaFIRE” with reduced hours and benefits in our current jobs, which we both (mostly) enjoy.
We will both be only when we want – which might be not at all – by age 40. If you had asked me at 25 if this was possible, I would have laughed in your face.

I am in my early 30s, make $75k a year ($120k joint), live in the South, work as a Development Director, and hate capitalism but love a little luxury!

Edited to remove the tables because when I obsessively checked this post on my phone I couldn't read them?? Also I tried to, but was prevented from, editing the title. I know it looks sanctimonious but that's just one small part of my personality I swear. D:
❤️ Section 1: Assets and Debt
Total Net Worth: $30,875 - all equity.
Retirement Balance: $0 for me; $20,500 for my husband in the state pension program for teachers. (My partner, L, has been paying into the state teachers' pension system for 5 years. For most of my 20s, I either worked at very low-paying jobs, or supported myself and others on a teacher’s salary, so no retirement for me. My current job does not have a retirement program, but one of my goals for this year is to either start a Roth IRA or get a new job with a 401k match… or maybe both?)
Savings Account Balance: $23,733 We’re moving this summer to a city closer to our families, and are saving all we can for a down payment on a dreamy spot. After we move, some amount of what’s left over will go into a retirement fund, and the rest will stay in this HYSA as our emergency fund. For us, three months of expenses, including childcare, is about $18,000.
Checking Account Balance: $455
Credit Card Debt: n/a, pay off each month
Student Loan Debt: $80,000 for L’s undergrad and MAT. $18,000 for my undergrad and (unfinished) MAT. (My undergrad degrees were mostly covered by the Pell Grant, scholarships, and a $10,000 529 from my parents. L was a nontraditional student - didn’t start undergrad until he was 24 - so none of his was covered. Most of my debt is for a MAT program I dropped out of after one year. I was trying to find any way out of teaching at the time (it is demanding, all-consuming, and carceral at once) and thought a PhD would be my only route. When I got my current job I promptly left the program and any dreams of a PhD behind.)
Equity: $83,875 (This number is from an online equity calculator, and is for our house in a very popular neighborhood in a very popular city. Our outstanding debt on the house is $295,000. We put our whole savings down in 2019, which was $9,000 at the time.)
❤️ Section 2: Income
Monthly Take Home: My base pay is $65,000, and L’s is $45,000. I worked a side gig last year that totaled about $10k in additional compensation; all of it went to savings so we don't budget for it. My take home is $4096/month for my full time job, and my current side gig income (grant writing) is variable, between $300 and $600 a month. L’s take home is $2262/month. My health insurance is paid in full by work. L’s insurance and B’s come out of L’s paycheck, as does L’s retirement contribution.
Income Progression: I’ve been working since I was 15 years old, moved out for college at 18, and paid my own bills starting that year. I won’t include that money here though (it was like $12,000 a year as a college student, for reference). Income below starts when I graduated with two BAs that had nothing to do with teaching.
Year 1: $15,600 (part time ABA therapist, full time baby anarchist)
Year 2: $32,000 (year 1 teacher salary: I accepted a spot in Teach for America for this giant salary even though I thought it was an obnoxious neoliberal org. Yes, I was also obnoxious at the time.)
Year 3: $33,000 (teacher, step increase)
Year 4: $34,000 (teacher, step increase)
Year 5: $35,000 (teacher, step increase)
Year 6: $15,000 (community organizer; at the time this felt like a dream job)
Year 7: $20,000 (community organizer & cafe worker)
Year 8: $40,000 (back to teaching, felt rich; this includes a side hustle writing grants on the side for $50 an hour)
Year 9: $45,000 (left teaching for my current job, quit the grants side hustle)
Year 10: $55,000 (got a raise, got pregnant)
Year 11: $65,000 (got a raise and promotion, had a baby)
Year 12: $75,000 (was promoted again in January but waiting on the pay increase to hit, hopefully with backdating. This money diary doesn’t reflect this salary as it hasn’t been reflected in my check yet)
❤️ Section 3: Expenses
Mortgage/PMI/Insurance: $2,110
Retirement Contribution: n/a (L’s retirement is pulled out of his check before he receives it: it’s $169 a month. Right now, I don’t have a retirement contribution)
Savings Contribution: $1000 to main savings, $400 to sinking fund (This is a super aggressive goal for us and is only possible because our childcare costs are covered by work)
Debt Payments: n/a right now (We have student loans to the tune of $100k but haven’t been paying a dime since they were paused due to COVID. But then the other day I checked and saw they've gained interest? Should we be paying them then? WWJD? I legit don’t know.)
Electric: $130
Internet: $100
Cellphone: $65 (For L & I both. We are on a bigass family plan with 40 gajillion other people.)
Subscriptions: $45 ($10 Spotify; $10 Youtube music; $2.99 Apple data (Why?!); $22 NYT (for newspaper and cooking app); also have a split subscription to the New Yorker with bestie F but we paid for a yearly deal.)
Car Payment and Insurance: $150 for a car payment; $202 for insurance (Insurance covers both of our used cars and my dad’s used handicap van. Our car payment is for our used Honda. We only owe $6,850 on the car and I’m back and forth on whether to pay it off with savings)
Medical/Therapy: $0 (My therapist is $140 a session, and I just started seeing her again once a month, but this is reimbursed by work. I also get an inhaler at least twice a month - that’s reimbursed too, costs $60 total.)
Misfits Market: $120 (For a weekly box, which really helps us cut down on overall grocery cost)
Gym membership: $30 (For my intense local yoga studio’s app which is so great in the winter. We also run and bike a lot, as long as it’s warm enough)
Donations: $100 (We give monthly to our local Democratic Socialists of America; the Working Families Party; and a small, local org. I’m also on an organizing committee for that org. We’ll give them one big gift of at least $250 this year, probably in May. I support a couple organizations with grant writing and grant-finding support as much as I can, which usually amounts to a few hours a month.)
Childcare: $0 B goes to a very precious Montessori preschool, and we can walk him there. It’s pricey af ($1300/month). The other $200 is to account for some babysitting from my little sister when L or I have to work weird hours. For now, work reimburses this full amount as a COVID perk; if that changes, we will have to cut costs significantly.
House cleaner: $160 (They come twice a month and charge $80 each time.)
❤️ Section 4: Money Diary
NOTE: We are masked and afraid everywhere we go.
✨DAY 1: THURSDAY✨
4:20 am: Good morning world! I shuffle into the kitchen in my panties and my slippers to fill up the gooseneck kettle. I recently got into pour over coffee even though it’s quite a commitment. With a toddler, a full-time job, and a Libra sun, I don’t really have time for meditative morning routines. This lengthy, half-naked coffee regimen is my closest attempt. As soon as I get the coffee brewing, our 18 month old, B, starts making noise. I open the door and see he’s got his pacifier in his mouth and his pillow in his arms. He wants to lay with Dada. I help him get in the bed with my husband, L, as quietly as possible. Last week L was super sick and we thought for sure he had picked up COVID. Blessedly all of our tests came back negative, but on the heels of that, he started having major tooth pain and had to have an emergency tooth extraction, AND he got an ear infection as he was coming down from whatever virus he had. I hate it :(
I get dressed and do some chores while they snooze to ease L's morning. I start the diaper laundry (usually his job - we use cloth), put away the dishes, start the Eufy vacuum, and get B and L’s breakfasts together: sunbutter and a little bit of syrup on some banana pancakes I prepped earlier this week.
6:30 am: B and L are up! The hour before we take B to preschool is kind of a marathon. L eats with B (and supervises his syrup consumption) as I clean out some more dirty diapers, brush my teeth, make another cup of coffee, strip our sheets, spray my hair with water to refresh the curl, return a few group texts, and wash some breakfast dishes. Somewhere in here I also eat two boiled eggs with Everything But the Bagel seasoning, and a bunch of grapes.
I help L get B loaded up in the car, and just as they pull off, my parents Facetime me. They’re calling to see B but are polite enough to talk to me for a few minutes. They live a few hours away, and are divorced, but cohabitating. The full story is long and spiritual for me so I’ll spare you. Anyway, my mom and I talk for a while about this couch she thinks I should buy from one of her friends, but it’s two hours away and we’d have to rent a U-Haul, so I think we’ll pass. I do hate our current couch though. Please drop comfy toddler- and dog-friendly recommendations in the comments!
8:15 am: I set out to walk the dog and listen to the Daily’s recent update on the coronavirus. Donald G. McNeill, Jr., says we’re in this through the summer, which is a bummer on the personal and global front, but I suppose it could be worse??? Maybe?? As soon as they finish talking I switch over to You’re Wrong About. I’m deep in the Jessica Simpson series and highly recommend this pod for any other nerdy, lefty, kinda burnt out millennials, especially those of you that are queer or queer-adjacent. Once home, I take my whole operation onto the front porch to work, since the cleaner will be here soon and I don’t want to crowd her in this time of COVID. I LOVE a clean house and I love paying someone else to do the big stuff, which is a recent luxury for us.
11:00 am: I’ve been working steadily in my email and google docs for a couple hours now, and it’s COLD out here. The cleaner leaves and I am grateful to go back into the heat. I Venmo her $80 for the cleaning (included in monthly expenses). I take a break from work and check out the job boards. My current job is the best, and highest-paying, gig I’ve ever had, but I’m planning to leave some time this year for several reasons. The premier reason: I recently learned that I’m qualified for several positions that pay over $100k at similar organizations. With that kind of money we could pay off our student loans, help our families out more, make sizable donations, and L could explore a career outside of teaching without freaking about a slight cut in his pay for a few years as he finds his niche. Or - maybe he’ll get into Edtech somehow and we’ll join Resource Generation. Who knows.
12:30 pm: I have a quick break and pull together lunch: half a cheese quesadilla, a big bowl of Smitten Kitchen’s roasted tomato soup, and a LimonCello LaCroix. L is on his planning period and asks me to edit his most recent job application, and I oblige. Since we’re both job hunting, I ask him if I can buy a resume template and guide on Etsy. I have sworn off online shopping for the year to curb my impulse spending, but he says we’ll just count this one as his purchase. Great news because I hate the formatting of my resume from 2016 and don’t want to fix it myself! $9.95
3:30 pm: My Zooms are over, my inbox is at 0, and I put up my out of office message because I’m taking the day off tomorrow to work on my resume and do some things to prep our house for sale. My high-functioning anxiety created an ambitious backwards timeline for this process back in December, and that timeline currently runs my life. I work for a few more minutes to tie up loose ends, and then walk O to a nearby shop to buy my favorite candle, curbside-style. When I get there the owner gives me some percentage off because it’s slightly discolored from the sun. Huzzah! $27.25, marked down from $40
4:45 pm: My angel of a baby sister, J, who lives just a few blocks away and is in a pod with us, comes to hang out with B for an hour so L can rest. I head to my good friend D’s place for my investment overalls appointment. She's going to alter their awkward wide leg into more of a tapered, mom jean shape. I have a capsule wardrobe which means I’ll wear these babies at least once a week, and plus I get to pay my friend, so I’m fine with the extra expense. When I arrive, she and her partner have the fire pit going, and we drink a couple glasses of wine together, yet more than 6 feet apart. I learn they are planning to move to the same new city as us in the next couple of years and legit cry happy tears.
Afterwards, I head out to pick up dinner for tonight. We are getting burgers from L’s favorite place as a treat. On my way, the WOLF MOON appears over the water and my stomach does triple flips. Then I pick up our dinner: a veggie burger with eggplant jam and kale for me; a real-meat burger with mushrooms, bacon, swiss, carmelized onion, and horseradish mayo for L; and an appetizer plate with pretzels, pimento cheese, onion jam, pickles, and chips for B. Delicious and unhealthy. The total is $34.54.
6:30: Home and eating dinner. B loves his meal, especially the “chokes.” He calls pretzels “chokes” because when L first started feeding them to him, I worried aloud that he would choke every time. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how a pretzel almost took out George W. Bush. Turns out our toddler is better at chewing than George W. Bush.
After dinner, L gives B a bubble bath while I do my own, very minimal, bedtime routine. Then L and I lay down with B to put him to sleep. He has a floor bed, which is a Montessori thing I learned about on mom blogs. L is a very hot and talented woodworker, so he took my floor bed dream to the next level by building a lovely house-shaped frame. The top beam is wrapped in twinkle lights and fake ivy. It’s a nice place to sleep, and we pass out here all the time.
10:30 pm: L wakes me up and we wander to our own bed.
🌿 DAILY TOTAL: 71.74
✨ DAY 2: FRIDAY✨
4:15 am: Wake up and go look at the clock. Decide this is a silly time to get up on a day off, drink some water, and go lay back down. But once in bed all I can think about is how much I want to read the news, organize my resume, and update this money diary. This is the problem with falling asleep at toddler time. So I get up again at 4:45, make my coffee, read a New Yorker article about Biden’s pandemic response on my phone, and sit down to work on this diary.
6:00 am: L wakes up! He works on breakfast for himself and B and I start meal planning for the month. This is one of my best and most recent life hacks. I found that if I chart out our cooking, weekly takeout, and leftovers at the start of the month, we save lots of money and are so much less stressed about the labor that goes into feeding ourselves. I pull out Smitten Kitchen Every Day and use it to inspire the month’s meals. So quaint to cook from an actual BOOK.
6:45 am: B walks out of our room and announces that he drank my water off the side table. He’s so proud! And so ready to eat. While he eats breakfast, I snack on some grapes and, at B’s request, blast 7 Days A Week by They Might Be Giants. This is the consummate children’s song for any household that dreams of a self-determined world. Over the next hour I take B to school; make myself a real breakfast (a soy chorizo and egg taco); and browse TikTok. Eventually I find a series about this Gamestop situation by a smart Irish woman and L and I watch it together. When it’s over we feel like shrewd stock brokers ready to win money, and L gets to work teaching virtually.
I spend the morning painting our front door and our kitchen wall to prep our house to sell, and talking to my (other) little sister on the phone. She’s an HR person with a job that’s taken her far away from our family, and we don’t talk that often. It is so good to catch up on her life. After that I have a fun, day-off Zoom call with longtime bestie and coworker K. We drink coffee and talk about The Future.
12:30 pm: I make lunch (tomato soup with goat cheese on top, and a savory scone on the side) and get a text from another bestie, M, who offers me a little grant writing contract work this week. Yay! I love them and love working with them. Next, I order our groceries for the week. I get baking powder, eggs, cremini mushrooms, vegan sausage patties, oat milk, ginger root, shredded cheddar cheese, plantains, black beans, doggy bags, broccoli, vegan chicken strips, artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers, capers, ciabatta bread, grits, bananas, avocados, greek yogurt, and on impulse, a pineapple on sale (?!). Maybe B will love it. The total comes to $94.08.
1:15 pm: I do a brief power vinyasa class in B’s room and take a shower. It takes me approximately two Drake songs to shower and dry off, as I don’t have to wash my hair today and I never shave. I work on my resume until L and I leave to pick up B. On the way home we stop at the park to play, and then we all get in the car to pick up groceries.
6:30 pm: We get home later than planned and eat together: leftover tofu ramen for us and veggie lasagna for B, who is so sleepy that he hardly touches his lasagna. L gets him in the bath around 7:15 and I run through my evening routine. There’s a lot going on in the house - preschool lunch and clothes to put up, a mountain of laundry in our room, all of the groceries for the week waiting to be put away, and dinner dishes are languishing in the sink. L starts on chores while I get B dressed.
As I’m dressing B, my mom Facetimes and B shows her several of his board books. While we’re talking my dad texts me a heart emoji - he overheard B and my mom talking from his room. He lives with a disability and a painful illness, so he goes to bed very early. We hang up with my mom and record a video of B making “P” sounds and saying “I love you” to my dad, and send it over. This is the first time B’s ever said “I love you!” Huge news. We read books and fall asleep next to B.
9 pm: I wake up and nudge L but he wants to keep sleeping. I go clean the dinner dishes, put away the food and reorganize the cabinets and fridge, and mop the kitchen floor while I listen to The Daily’s latest reporting on QAnon believers who are at once totally bananagrams and also remind me very much of my aunt. L wakes up at 9:30 because he and Y, my sister’s boyfriend, are gonna game. Cute! He finishes the laundry and I fold a few diapers to help out. Then we lay in bed together until game time, when I fall asleep.
🌿 DAILY TOTAL: 94.08
✨DAY 3: SATURDAY✨
5:40 am: Wake up at a ~*~weekend hour~*~!! Start my kettle, clean and moisturize my face, pull out the ingredients for waffles, and pick up around the house while I wait for it to boil. I try to read some, but get bored a few pages in. I’m currently reading How to Do Nothing and it’s good enough, but I think I need to chill on the nonfiction and read, like, saucy romance novels with hot bisexual leads. Send me your recs please!
Waffle time! This recipe is my go-to. I recommend whipping the egg whites first. B wakes up around 7:15 and helps me cook which is cute and very messy. He eats his waffle with honey, peanut butter, and grapes. L wakes up after him - he had a late night gaming!
8 am: I open yesterday’s mail and find an anti-abortion DVD from L’s grandma. It’s Abby Johnson’s “memoir.” Abby Johnson is an opportunistic right winger and documented liar who once moonlighted as a Planned Parenthood clinic manager. L is a preacher’s kid, so we’re not surprised to receive this from his grandma. For example: 10 years ago, when L and I were a couple years into our relationship, her Christmas gift to me was a book about how one can recover from being a slut by getting married and finding Jesus. This particular package really sends me over the edge, though. I decide to write them a short note later that states my own experience with abortion and sets a clear boundary on this kind of propaganda, and includes an article about Abby Johnson’s bullshit life. It’s unlikely this will change their minds - they are septuagenarian Southern Baptists, after all - but at least I’ll be in my integrity.
In the meantime, I group text L’s siblings, and they commiserate with us. His one sibling who is transitioning shares that grandma recently sent them a book about how to tell your gay friends they’re sinning. We agree that’s hilariously dense (and fucking rude) of her, and talk about how everyone under forty is a gay slut living their best life, so really it’s grandma’s loss. During this time I clean the kitchen, finish the waffles, and freeze them for B’s weekday breakfasts.
9:30 am: B asks to use the potty and does a great job peeing on his own! He’s geeked about it and is especially excited to have my parents on Facetime cheering him on. After that we head out on our morning walk. L takes B to the playground and I take O to the dog park nearby. She gets tired pretty quick and we all head to the thrift store. We need chairs for our hand-me-down kitchen table. The ones that came with it are awkwardly wide. L spots two sturdy ones that are just $5 each. Score! $10
11:30 am: B and L are both wiped out once we get home. They eat lunch and go to sleep. I clean up the kitchen, repot one of my plants, water our porch plants, and eat some leftover ramen for lunch. The Marie Antoinette episode of You’re Wrong About keeps me company all the while. 10/10 would recommend.
2 pm: B wakes up and eats some lunch. We watercolor together for a while (he on his big paper, I in my bullet journal), then walk down the street to the local high school while L preps potatoes for our fondue. The high school grounds are open on the weekends, and there’s an amphitheatre on site. B loves the echo in there.
4:30 pm: L joins us in the amphitheatre and together we drag B two blocks back home. I prep the fondue: brie, gouda, and more gouda with white wine. It ends up being a little clumpy but so delicious. My sister, J, and her boyfriend, Y arrive while I’m cooking. Y brings yummy baguettes from his bakery job for the dipping and we prep broccoli, green beans, and tempeh too. We sit down in our new chairs to eat and for the zillionth time I am so thankful we’ve been able to make a pod together this year. Fondue would be a terrifying proposition with anyone else, really.
While we eat, Y tells us he put in his two weeks at the bakery because their COVID protocols aren’t so tight and his coworkers are continuing to go to bars and out to eat. His plan for now is to get back on unemployment and find a virtual job sometime soon. Both he and my sister have worked food service their whole adult lives so the pandemic has been tough on them. Besides the fact that they’re delightful and perfect, this is one key reason we’re planning to move with them to our new city this summer: L and I will be able to easily afford the majority of the rent, deposits, and utilities on a pretty big, and centrally located, house. Living together will allow us to grow our savings and take our time looking for a Forever Home, and will allow J and Y to pay really low rent as my sister goes back to school full time and Y looks for a full-time job. I’m really looking forward to living with them and know it’ll be good for B, too. They leave around 7 pm and we put B to bed, this time without falling asleep ourselves!
8:30 pm: Turn on How I Met Your Mother in bed and the episodes are baaaaad bad. One entire episode casts sex workers as a punch line. Ick. L and I agree to find a new show, and fall asleep around 10.
11 pm - 2 am: B is up and between our two beds. Wahhhh.
🌿 DAILY TOTAL: 10
✨DAY 4: SUNDAY✨
6 am: Up and at ‘em! Discover I’m out of my fancy coffee and don’t want to emphasize the flavor of our grocery store beans with a slow pour, so make a french press instead. B wakes up too early so we watch toddlers together on TikTok while I drink my coffee, then read books while L makes us all eggs for breakfast. We head out for our morning walk around 9 am and stop at a coffee shop a few blocks away. I pick up Counter Culture’s Iridescent beans, buy an espresso brownie on a whim, and tip the cashier because she’s so sweet and tipping is good. The total is 23.03. L takes B to the playground and I drop my purchases and O back at the house before I head out for a run.
9:45 am: It’s 65 degrees and my run is glorious. I run to the water and pause Lil Yachty for a minute to take it all in. Once home I shower and put on a black LA Apparel catsuit and a marled black and white cocoon sweater from AA of the past (I like what I like!). We feed B lunch and then L puts him down while I clean up.
Around 11:30, J comes over after to watch B while we remove the storm windows from our whole house and clean the windows underneath as part of our work to prep the house for sale. We’re a solid team: L removes the storm windows and caulks all the gaps in the wood while I follow behind him and wash the windows inside and out. Our sweet neighbor catches us cleaning and offers to let us use her power washer for free next weekend to clean up the front of the house. I resolve to bake them some cookies.
2:30 pm: We are done with the window operation and it’s time for me to water all 57 plants in the house. Along the way, discover that I overwatered B’s hoya last week and it’s rotting. Noooo! I unpot it on the porch to dry the roots, but it’s raining so this might not work. There’s only one surefire solution: buy a replacement plant! I try to convince L we should go to the nursery, but he’s not so into it. I walk around dejectedly with a towel to clean up all the water I spilled, and Zelle J $70 for babysitting even though she insists she would do it for free. Next B, L, and I share a snack: crackers with goat cheese and harissa. Mmm. B skips the harissa but loves the goat cheese. Meanwhile I begin to stress about making dinner. We’d planned goddess bowls but L and I just aren’t feeling it after our marathon of house work. L requests Chinese and is suddenly more amenable to visiting the nursery, which is near our favorite Chinese takeout spot. Score!
5:00 pm: We leave the plant shop with a heartleaf philodendron for B’s room and a giant, lovely, perfect monstera deliciosa just because. The total comes to $53.24. Then we pick up our food: $33.08 including the tip. L ordered a large veggie lo mein to share with B and General Tso’s chicken, and I got family style tofu and vegetables. We start B’s bedtime routine at 6:30 and he’s out by 7:00 - early for him!
After he’s down, L preps his breakfast sandwiches for the week and I do some dishes. Then we take mutual advantage of the extra hour we have together. Even after 12 years it’s always so good with L. I fall asleep around 10 pm feeling blessed.
🌿 Daily total: 179.32
✨DAY 5: MONDAY✨
5 am: I make my pour over and get started on work first thing. I have a couple of deadlines this week and the side gig to balance so I’m already feeling pressed for time! I wrap up an entire grant report before 6 am and feel very accomplished. Then I pause work to start our breakfast, which is all pre-prepped, hallelujah. While L and B eat breakfast, I get dressed in a black turtleneck minidress, busted old tights, black ankle socks, and my Doc Martens.
I help L load up the car with B and all his gear, and tell L to be careful. Today is L’s first day back teaching in person since December, and we’re both nervous since COVID is still running wild in our red state. On the way to work he fills up his car for $18.33.
2:30 pm: After another grant report, seventy gajillion emails, forty Slack messages, and several hours of Zoom calls, I’m ready for a break. I finish eating the quinoa salad I prepped during Zoom call #2 and then eat a pear too. I see our Misfits box has been delivered. It’s $30 a week, and is included in our monthly expenses. I unpack it, clean the counters, wipe down the bathroom sinks, take O for a walk, and sit down to work on my side gig grant report, which is due Wednesday. I set a 30 minute timer because I don’t want to be too late picking up B.
4:25 pm: Worked longer than I meant to! Pack some snacks and pick up B. On the way home we get a giant bag of potting soil so I can repot those plants. It’s $18.52. Come home and engage in B’s favorite winter activity: pressing all the buttons in the turned-off car. Meanwhile, in another car across town, L picks up a big bag of Purina One, butter, maple syrup, and applesauce. That total is $28.64.
5:30 pm: The whole family is home and we kick it inside until it starts to get dark. L and I gather all the things and take the creatures out for a walk even though there’s a light, but very cold, rain happening. B is cranky and so are we, so the walk is quick.
We eat leftover Chinese food around 7 and start B’s bedtime routine. B falls asleep at 8 and I update this diary for a while, then go watch Ted Lasso in bed with L til about 9:30. It’s much better than How I Met Your Mother, for the record.
🌿 DAILY TOTAL: 65.51
✨Day 6: TUESDAY✨
3 am: B wakes up and needs a diaper change. I have the hardest time falling back asleep after: I can’t stop thinking about how I left B’s hoya out in the cold with its roots exposed most of the day yesterday and into tonight. But it’s too cold for me to get up again and pull it inside! So instead I toss and turn and hope it’s not dead yet.
6 am: L’s alarm wakes me up! No early morning reading and writing time for me. I get right up, make a giant pour over, and get breakfast together while L wakes up B. Then I actually sit down with them to eat: B and I both eat boiled eggs with everything but the bagel seasoning and some coconut milk yogurt, and L sips his coffee while his breakfast sandwich heats in the oven. I get dressed in my workout gear and walk the dog while L gets B ready for school. They leave, and I finally bring the hoya in, and start work, around 7:30. L buys coffee and snacks from the gas station on his way to work: $6.88.
9:30 am: I grab some crackers and peanut butter from the kitchen and notice a DMV bill on the fridge I’ve been meaning to pay, but don’t totally understand. I call them up and respond to emails while I sit on hold. Turns out I owe the DMV $10 for paying my Dad’s van insurance late. With the “processing fee” it comes to $11.17.
1:30 pm: Been on Zoom calls all morning, and decide to switch over to the side gig work for a bit. Meanwhile I eat that quinoa salad I prepped yesterday. At 2 pm, my longtime bestie and neighbor F comes over and we take O for a walk in the park together and have such a good conversation. While the context is (very) different, I’m reminded of the Toni Morrison quote when I think of F: “She’s a friend of my mind.” Such a gem, and such a smartie. At 3:30 I start a HIIT yoga class and it kicks my butt even though it’s only 20 minutes long. Afterwards, I shower and pick up B.
5:00 pm: L arrives home while B and I are playing, and we get in the car once more to check out a cute couch L scoped out on Facebook marketplace. It’s a sweet vintage brown velvet actually-for-real midcentury situation. Unfortunately we discover it’s also small and very uncomfortable. $200 not spent. Once home, my family goes for a walk and I make dinner - this grits and beans recipe from NYT cooking. It’s blessedly quick to pull together. Meanwhile D texts me and says my overalls are ready! YAY! She’s gonna drop them off in a couple of days. She says the total is $30. I include a tip and Venmo her $40.
7:00 pm: At bedtime, B cannot get enough of his books and we read All The World several times. He finally falls asleep around 8:20 and L and I eat dinner on the couch, with Ted Lasso. I drink a glass of red wine, which is a mistake: my anxiety spikes right after, my stomach hurts, and I can’t sleep. This is very upsetting as I want very much to be a wine mom. Does this happen to anyone else?
🌿 DAILY TOTAL: 58.05
✨DAY 7: WEDNESDAY✨
5:45 am: Wake up with B cuddled into my back - L moved him to our bed in the middle of the night after his second wake up. Get my coffee and breakfast together and sit down at my computer to work on the side gig grant while everyone's asleep. Then L and I manage the morning rush together. I eat sourdough toast, two scrambled eggs, and some pineapple along the way.
7:30 am: Take O out for a walk and on a whim decide to listen to one of my favorite easy-listening pods: A Beautiful Mess. Normally the two sisters and co-hosts, Elsie and Emma, chat about things like home decor or craft making or how to balance kids and work. This episode is about the host’s evangelical upbringing, though, and is a real raw and honest tear jerker. Pair it with this, one of my top reads of 2020: “What Does the White Evangelical Want?” It gets me thinking about L’s upbringing in the church. He and all his siblings are all agnostic now.
Finally sit down at my desk and debate taking Adderall. I used it regularly in college and for a few years after in order to Do All The Things. I try to stay away from it now - I’m not trying to live an impossible life any more - but I also really want to pick B up earlier than normal today, and that means I need to meet all my deadlines and make it through two Zoom calls with my direct reports by 3 pm. I decide to take 4 mg. Right after I take it, three different friends text me at once and then, suddenly, I’ve spent an hour catching up via text. Get to work for real around 9 am.
3:00 pm: Wrapped all my calls, answered all my emails, washed all the dishes, ate some lunch, and finished the side gig work! OK Adderall, you beautiful bitch. Spend a few more minutes tying up loose ends and then gather my things to pick B up from school. The plan today is to go “play basketball” in the park near his school because he is OBSESSED with balls, and I’m trying to do more magical things every day with him. It’s cold but I’m ready to brave it on his precious, curly-headed behalf.
At 4 pm J calls and asks to go pick him up with me. Hooray, things just got even more magical! We head to a different-than-usual park together and run around until B sits in, and then drinks from, a puddle. We panic and J googles “What happens if my baby drinks from a puddle?” The search returns lots of stories of babies eating muddy rocks and surviving, so we decide it’s ok.
5:00 pm Head home and L is back from work! We take the smols on a walk and I tell L that I think nighttime screentime is making me anxious. I’m a sensitive creature and I really don’t want to blame the wine. He’s very perfect so he helps me think through an alternate plan for this evening: hot tea and book reading in bed, and maybe sex, too! Fun.
Next, I head home with O to pot the plants we bought the other day, and L takes B to the playground. They get back around 6:30 and I am very excited to reveal my new plant placements. Everyone feigns interest except O. Then we eat leftovers together and B gets in bed around 7:30. L and I promptly fall asleep next to him and don’t wake up again til 11 pm. Guess our new nighttime routine will have to wait til tomorrow!
🌿 DAILY TOTAL: 0
❤️ Section 5: TOTALS
Total Expenses: $478.71
Food & Drink: $220.25
Fun & Entertainment: $0
Home & Health: $109.01
Clothes & Beauty: $40
Transport: $29.50
Other: $79.95
❤️ Section 6: REFLECTION
This week reflects a new normal for us, I think! We just set the goal of saving up for another down payment in December, and that’s when I swore off online shopping both to save money and to stop lining the pockets of evil billionaires like Bezos (no shade to anyone who uses Amazon, this is purely a personal goal & I’m not sure I can meet it). This self-imposed rule is helping me reign in my discretionary spending overall. L and I have only been living a two-income, middle class life for a few years, and my lifestyle creep was a little out of control in 2020. That said, I can and do still regularly justify spending money on things that make life more luxurious and beautiful - like a $40 candle or a totally unnecessary but very lovely plant.
There are a couple of things not reflected in this diary that we regularly spend on: gifts (my achilles heel - for example, we spent three! thousand! dollars! on Christmas gifts in December), and medical bills. Both B and I had to visit the emergency room in 2020 and we are still getting random bills in the mail as our insurance company and the hospital duke it out. As I was editing this diary on Thursday, I received one for $787. Wahhhh. I think I’m gonna get on a payment plan, but even so that it will be over $200 a month.
Last thought: this process got me thinking in some detail about the contradiction of organizing for the fall of capitalism (and the rise of a more gentle and just economic system), yet believing everyone - including ourselves and our own families - deserve to live full and abundant lives. This means I compromise my own anti-capitalist values and beliefs every day, in big and small ways. Discuss?

[HEL-Verse] Still Untitled Spinoff Story [Chapters 1-3]

Happy Lunar New Year's eve to all my readers who are celebrating and feasting! Some notes for clarity on today's post...
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Q: What is this story?
A: This is a spinoff that I have been dabbling around with for the last few months on and off, based on the events of a commission from last January: The First Juggernaut
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Q: Why haven't I seen this story before if the 4th chapter is releasing today?
A: This story falls under the category of "one shots", which is content made available, at least initially, only to certain subscribers of my patreon. I am making prior chapters available to everyone today both on my patreon and below.
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Q: I am a patron, where can I read the latest installment in the untitled ~~goose~~ snake saga?
A: I will be posting it to patreon shortly after finishing this post and I will link it at the bottom of this chapter.
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Q: I am a patron, why can't I read the latest chapter?
A: Latest installment is available to anyone supporting me to the tune of $10/month or greater. As with the prior chapters, chapter 4 will eventually be released to the public.
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Q: Is this considered canon for HEL Jumper purposes?
A: Yes, unless something explicitly conflicts with the HEL Jumper in which case I made an oopsie.
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Q: Who is Drake and what is this snake of which you speak?
A: Read on to find out!
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Chapter 1
September 17th 2035, Human Dreadnought HMV Resplendent Dawn, Shuttle Bay
“Mr. Thane! Good of you to join us here in Udanis. How was your journey? Uneventful I hope,” the incredibly tall, dark-skinned man called out across the cavernous metal room. Delta Division shuttles could be seen darting in and out of the space almost constantly, ferrying goods and personnel between the dreadnoughts, cruisers, destroyers, and support ships that currently made up humanity’s presence in what was, effectively, a star-system wide DMZ declared by the Ghaelen and enforced by humans. Unable to stomach the reality of warfare in hostile conditions against even more hostile foes, the ‘space elk’ presence had long since fled the system. Taking his bearings, the stockier, tanned individual with unkempt black hair and a civilian’s uniform nodded to the approaching figure.
“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Rear Admiral. Until just now I didn’t even know the identity of my destination. Though I understand the need for secrecy now that I’m here. Drake Thane, it’s a pleasure.” The two men engaged in a firm handshake, the squeeze of the palm a tried and true test of such men. Beta Division did not have many Admirals, and Udanis did not have many civilians.
“You’ll have to forgive Admiral Freidrich, but our resident Juggernaut seems to be giving him the runaround again. Victory will go to a young woman’s head though, won’t it?” the taller man laughed. “I am Rear Admiral Natori Kaczynski, at your service. And yes, that is a Beta Division insignia. Though perhaps you might be able to appreciate such a thing? After all, Delta called you out here too, didn’t they?”
“With all due respect Rear Admiral, I don’t even know why I’m here,” Thane replied. “Only that the pay is better than the FBI was offering.”
“Mmm, significantly better I’d suspect. The HEL does have its means,” Natori agreed. “Right this way then, Mr. Thane. Perhaps you’ll understand better once you’re brought up to speed. Ah, how rude of me!” the Rear Admiral suddenly exclaimed as though set upon by a novel idea. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
“I indulged in a ‘final meal’ on the transport, sir. But thank you,” Drake replied. Natori cast a knowing smile his way.
“Very good then. I see you packed light so let’s head to the nearest briefing room then. Mary?”
‘How may I be of assistance, Rear Admiral Kaczynski?’ the ship’s VI requested.
“Has a briefing room been set aside for Mr. Thane’s arrival?”
‘Yes sir, forwarding the location to you now.’
“Useful little tool, isn’t she?” Natori asked as he turned on his heel and led Drake straight in the opposite direction down the corridor.
“I’m only familiar with the civilian models, sir. The US government hasn’t gotten around to upgrading its systems yet.”
“Surprising absolutely no one, but perhaps we should be thankful,” Kaczynski suggested as he turned a corner and carried on, saluting various soldiers and support personnel as they moved at a leisurely pace. “Were it not for the bureaucratic incompetence of Terran governments, who would want to join the HEL?”
“That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose,” Thane agreed. “And while it may not be my place Rear Admiral, isn’t playing escort below your station?”
Natori looked him over with an appraising eye. “How tactful, but such is to be expected from a crisis negotiator I suppose. Allow me to assure you, Mr. Thane, the current situation is very much the concern of men like me.”
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Over the next couple hours, seated across a polished wooden table from one another, Natori reviewed with Drake the timeline of the pacification of Udanis IV, from the discovery of life in the system in early 2035, to first contact, and eventual full blown war by the end of May of the same year. The conflict had ended on June 6th, with the first truly successful battlefield deployment of Beta and Delta division’s latest collaboration, the Juggernaut program.
“So you brought me here to deal with Lieutenant Lavinaga, sir? Was it something about the, what did you call it, Queen’s nest operation? How many of those… stimulants is she still on?”
“No and yes. Fortunately, Lieutenant Lavinaga is quite well,” Natori replied, reaching for the pitcher of water and glasses in the middle of the table. He unhurriedly poured for them both, and the two men paused to soothe their throats. “While it is true that you were brought here to negotiate with veterans of this conflict… perhaps it’s better that I show you. This way please,” the Rear Admiral proposed, leading Drake on a short walk that nevertheless felt like a mile. The Marines and other combat personnel he’d seen up to that point appeared to be in high spirits, already swapping stories about gallantry during the operation while reminiscing fondly about the fallen. Maybe years later they might need someone like him, but not then and not there.
Eventually they arrived at their destination, given away by the fact that Natori was required to provide biometric identification in two forms as well as enter a combination PIN to pass through a set of imposing steel bulkheads. Drake recognized the area immediately as an interrogation facility, with the Rear Admiral escorting him all the way to the back. It was a cell constructed for long term confinement, and the two men found themselves alone in front of what Drake was sure was a one way mirror. The only other humans in the area were the Marine guards stationed back at the entrance. It didn’t help his nerves that they were in full armor intended for combat in hazardous environments. “Who’s on the other side of that wall, Rear Admiral?”
“Not who, Mr. Thane,” Natori corrected with an unsettling fire in his eyes. “But what.”
With the flick of a switch light suddenly poured through the opening, allowing Thane to see the interior of the spacious but barren room. “Jesus fucking Christ!” he whispered. “Are you mad, Rear Admiral?”
“Quite, Mr. Thane. But so are most who labor for the advancement of humanity. I daresay if you accept this job you’ll be rather similar.”
“I speak Farsi and Arabic, Rear Admiral. I deal with veterans of the Middle Eastern conflicts. What in God’s good name do you expect me to do with a Gorgon?!”
“An excellent question!” Natori agreed. “For starters I’d like you to see if you could bring us to the point where she does not spit acid at anything that moves. The fact that they store them in the approximate location of human mammary glands lost its humor… rather quickly.”
Drake swallowed heavily and took a closer look at the alien. Its entire body screamed danger to him. Natural rock-like armor covered its entire, serpentine form, which took after the Nagas or Lamias of human mythology. Her yellowish-green skin was the same color as the acidic environments of her homeworld, and her whiplike tail seemed to be constantly searching for something to coil around, or perhaps lash out at like a flail. “How long has she been here?”
“Since June 7th, Mr. Thane.”
“It’s been more than three months? Rear Admiral, surely this is in violation of… something!”
Natori licked his lips and hung his head. “This is why we sent for you, Mr. Thane. We have tried everything, and I mean everything, to establish some sort of diplomatic relationship, or even communication. She eats heartily and tries to kill us whenever she can. She is one of the only survivors of the Queen’s nest, and we believe that such authority will be key in any sort of eventual alliance.”
“You really are mad,” Thane whispered as Natori placed his hands behind his back and looked at the Gorgon.
“Am I mad for seeking powerful allies for our species, Mr. Thane? The Ghaelen possess powerful technology, but the price of its acquisition was steep. We will only bring ruin to ourselves if ‘galactic policeman’ is to be our role. Let our own country’s history be an example on that matter. No, one day we will come across a challenge we cannot surmount alone. I would much prefer it if the acid spitting snake women were on our side in that event, Mr. Thane. After coming this far, I hope you’ll at least humor me.”
“And Admiral Freidrich, sir?”
Natori met Drake’s eyes. “Approved this operation personally, Mr. Thane.”
The crisis negotiator breathed deeply and ran a hand through his mop of hair. “Just… how many people have died before me?”
“None, Mr. Thane! And I have no intention of making you the first.” The civilian shot Natori a dubious look that obviously conveyed his opinion on that particular statement. “Yes well, there were a couple of men who needed emergency medical treatment and reconstructive surgery, but we have equipment that is rather resistant to Gorgon acid thanks to their sacrifices, among many others. Shall I fetch one for you?”
“With all due respect, Rear Admiral-”
“Ah, you know what they say about that little lead in,” Natori chuckled, the casual hand on his hip indicating he fully understood why Drake had afforded him his ‘due respect’.
“Then you’ll have to consider the month-long journey to be my gesture of good faith. I’d like to see everything you have on the Gorgons, ideally in printed form. And yes, that includes the classified bits. I’ll sign whatever NDA’s you deem reasonable. And a cup of coffee… maybe two. You can keep your acid-resistant suits for now. I don’t think she’s going anywhere.”
After a moment of consideration, Natori offered Drake his hand again. They shook. “I appreciate your consideration, Mr. Thane. I will oversee the preparation of said documents, as well as the necessary security clearances. In the meantime you are free to observe our captive, though might I suggest taking a pitstop in your cabin first?”
“You’re the type to get mixed up in the affairs of his subordinates, aren’t you, Rear Admiral?” Thane ventured cautiously. Natori’s smile was different somehow that time, almost unsettlingly so.
“Perhaps your keen eye will succeed where I have failed, Mr. Thane? We will be in touch and Mary is, of course, at your disposal. Welcome to the Resplendent Dawn,” Kaczynski finished, turning quickly on his heel and departing, saluting the Marine door guards as he left.
“Apparently he’s also one to leave civilians alone with alien captives,” Drake muttered, looking down at the control panel for the one way glass. Left there was a post-it note, a vintage technology that still found itself in use even in the era of shield generators, FTL travel, and VI’s.
Don’t activate the two way functionality. We’re running low on materials to manufacture more polarized glass.
Thane chuckled in disbelief and ran a hand over his face, captivated momentarily by the holes he could see in the alien’s forearms, a natural biological gap between the Gorgon analogs of the radius and ulna. At least he assumed she had bones. “What have I gotten myself into?”
-----
As it turned out, the answer to that question was a bit more complex than one on one prisoner or hostage negotiation, something that became readily apparent after an hour or so of reading in front of the alien’s cell. The coffee was surprisingly adequate, as was the insulated mug that kept it warm as he labored. He would glance up on occasion to observe his subject, not wanting to fully depend on unreliable witness testimony, more reliable autopsy reports, combat records, and the gruesome video feeds from the suit of one Lieutenant Lanvinaga. If Kaczynski’s tale was true, and he had no grounds to assert it wasn’t, the alien before him had not only retained the will to live after more than three months in solitary, she also retained the desire to kill and fight. She was sane and hostile. That was more than could be said for some of the veterans he’d talked down in the past.
“Or failed to talk down,” Drake allowed with a mutter, shaking his head. Movement caught his eye and he refocused on the alien, watching as she curled up on herself only to adjust and re-adjust, picking at the rock-like armor that seemed to grow from her very body. Scratching his head, the human consulted several images that he would have rather not dealt with, various post-mortem shots of Gorgons that had been killed during the pacification. Very few sported natural armor to the level of his subject, but not because she was some sort of unique specimen. Near as he could tell the Gorgon before him was quite typical for her species, but her natural armor was jagged and reminded him of a volcanic rock field. Much of his reference material depicted Gorgons with relatively smooth plating that rested underneath manufactured metallic armor. “It’s worth a shot,” Than shrugged, noting that it was 21:00 shipboard time. “Mary, is Rear Admiral Kaczynski still awake?”
‘Good evening Mr. Drake Thane,’ came Mary’s synthesized but pleasant enough voice. ‘The Rear Admiral has retired for the evening. Are you experiencing an emergency?’
“No no, nothing like that,” Thane clarified quickly. “I’ll just leave him a message then.”
‘Very well, you may begin recording when ready.’
“Rear Admiral, this is Drake Thane. In the morning I’d appreciate it if you could track down a couple of rocks and an industrial sander for me. I have an idea.”
-----
“I believe I’ve waited long enough to sate my curiosity?” Natori stated as he watched Drake sanding down one surface of the chunks of Udanian crust he’d been given.
“Fair enough. How familiar are you with the anatomy of beavers, Rear Admiral?”
“How familiar are you with the anatomy of beavers?” Natori barked with laughter. “Oh I definitely picked the right man for this job.”
“Save that for when I actually get somewhere, sir. The answer, I suppose, is that I’m familiar enough to know that beavers don’t just cut down trees to build themselves shelter. Left alone long enough without anything to gnaw on their teeth will continue to grow and grow, injuring or even leading to the death of the animal. These Gorgon appear to possess the same quality when it comes to their natural armor,” Thane postulated. Natori’s eyes lit up.
“You propose a gift?”
“I hope you don’t mind the loss of a belt sander,” Drake said shortly.
“Let’s not wait then. Her first meal of the day is scheduled around this time.”
“Good enough for me. Where’s this suit, the one that will stop me from getting my face melted off?”
“Storage locker on the left. We haven’t personally delivered anything for some time, so be prepared for resistance,” Kaczynski warned. “She seems to consider eating her meal off the floor worth the chance at an attack.”
“Duly noted,” Drake replied in a tense voice, finding a heavily fortified hazardous environment suit that would have looked more at home on a space walk where the Admiral indicated. A short time later, sweat beading on his brow, he unlocked the door to the Gorgon’s cell. The moment he entered, the alien puffed out her chest and spat a stream of sickly green acid from her mouth. Though the attack was exemplary in its aim and velocity, that also made it relatively easy to dodge if one was willing to simply drop to the floor. Well protected as he was, Drake did just that, squashing whatever manufactured nutrient cubes had been intended for her. In return, he chucked the first rock at her, earning a momentary reprieve as the alien tried to process the fact that one of the legged beings keeping her hostage had thrown a rock at her. It was enough time for him to roll the second one to the base of her body, a couple feet below where her torso met her tail, which carried on behind her for a good six feet or so. The fact that the second rock was ‘presented’ instead of ‘chucked’ was not lost on the alien, but that didn’t prevent her from compressing the venom sacks in her chest again.
“Oh for the love of-” Thane cursed, retreating out the door as the second biological attack splattered onto the surface just behind him. To his amazement, Natori was applauding even as two Marines rushed at him with decontamination equipment.
“A magnificent swan dive if I’ve ever seen one, Mr. Thane! And before you believe I’m having a laugh at your expense, come look at what our guest is already up to.”
At Natori’s insistence Thane shucked the enviro-suit as quickly as he could and returned to the one-way mirror. There, he could see the Gorgon ignoring her smushed breakfast entirely. After a brief contemplation of the rocks that had been given to her, she began banging at her own body with one of them, chipping off pointy bits of rock that clearly agitated her. At least Drake considered it could be fully fledged rock; he had no idea if aliens producing natural rock armor atop their own dermis was reasonable. Whatever it was, it was certainly tougher than keratin. The Rear Admiral ran a hand over his short, close cropped hair. “I would certainly call this progress, Mr. Thane. What is your next step?”
“To see if I can get her to look at a human for longer than a second without trying to dissolve him,” he replied tersely. “Do you have more of those rocks?”
Natori cocked a brow his way. “Mr. Thane, this is a Delta Division Liberation-class dreadnought. We have plenty of rocks.”
Chapter 2
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Drake Thane cursed, hauling himself to his feet after another harrowing trip into the Gorgon’s cell. She had accepted his gift of rocks, but had not made any sort of connection between the smooth and jagged varieties, instead using both to chip away at and then grind down the excess armor growing from her skin. That was how she spent most of her days when not eating or attempting to fight anyone who entered her enclosure. He had only been aboard the Resplendent Dawn for forty eight hours, but he’d read more than enough to make it clear that the Gorgon’s were highly intelligent and capable of advanced battlefield tactics. Humanity’s swift victory was primarily a technological feat, not a tactical one.
“Which leaves pride, an absurd amount of pride,” he muttered, debating whether to remove the helmet from his head and return to study or attempt something new. Exactly what, he did not know. Not willing to throw his life away or test the durability of the hazardous environment suit further, he began removing it in a process that took several minutes and assistance from one of the Marine sentries on duty. “Thank you. Let’s leave it out for now. I might try again later today.”
“As you say, Mr. Thane,” the Marine replied. “Not sure what you could do though. Nothing gets through to them.”
“Something will,” Drake insisted. “But I understand where you’re coming from.”
“Shall I inform the Admiral of this morning’s result?” the soldier asked
“No need. It’s status quo for now,” he said, heading back to the table that had become his workstation and opening up a portable computer he’d been provided with to review the various multimedia files that humanity possessed on the Gorgons. Ongoing attempts at communicating with the planetside populace had borne no fruit, with the various kingdoms going to ground the moment anyone tried to make contact. He had already checked once, but he double checked to make sure there were no records of torture, starvation, or unusual punishment of his current subject. He doubted they would have actually been logged, but there was continuity in the timetable. That was enough for him.
“How long can you keep this up?” he wondered of his new adversary. It was practically against the code of his profession to consider an interlocutor an enemy, but given that she had attempted to dissolve him without fail every time he stuck his nose in the door, he was willing to make an exception. “Yeah, don’t remind me. The answer is at least a couple months. At least the coffee’s still hot.”
Caffeine in hand, Thane instead opened up various combat records. He did his best to avoid the more gruesome ones, but a few caught his interest. There were several instances where gear had been retrieved and the combat logs analyzed to discover that the deceased had been engaged in one on one combat by individual Gorons, sometimes in the presence of entire enemy units. “Dear Lord in heaven,” he muttered. “They’re going to make a movie out of this, if it’s even declassified.”
The ‘this’ in question was a helmet recording from a Marine private who had been surrounded by an enemy platoon. With no ammunition remaining, he had fixed his bayonet and stood to face his death with courage. Instead of immediately spitting acid at him or ganging up on him, one of the Gorgons had stepped, or was it slithered, forward. After a long moment that took Thane’s breath away, the Marine realized that the spear-wielding, armored alien was challenging him to something of a duel. Most remarkable was what happened when the Marine proved victorious, ramming his bayonet into a gap between the alien’s armor and bringing her down in a writhing mass of rock and flesh after several minutes of testing each other. The remaining enemies retreated, and the victorious Marine had survived the hostile environment of Udanis IV long enough to call for backup.
“Only problem is I doubt I could land a hit on her to save my life, even if she’s unarmed and unarmored… well, no extra armor,” he mused. The idea of asking another to fight in his stead was equally unpalatable, especially since he wasn’t sure the Gorgon would submit to anything short of death. “This is getting me nowhere.”
Recognizing his own limits, Drake sorted his affairs and left the interrogation bloc, wandering around the ship and letting his mind drift until he drifted right into an imposing blonde soldier whose rolled up sleeves revealed several mechanical interface points embedded in her arms. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded.
“Drake Thane, crisis negotiator. I’m here at the request of Admiral Freidrich and Rear Admiral Kaczynski. It’s an honor to meet you, Lieutenant Lavinaga.”
“Christ, is it that fucking obvious?” she asked, glancing down at her arms. “Guess it is. You lost, Thane?”
“Physically? No. But maybe you can help me? I’ve got a bit of a Gorgon problem,” he admitted.
“The survivor? Should just space her if you ask me,” Lavinaga said dismissively. “Assuming you want that thing alive I’m not your woman.”
“And what if I want someone to go in there and wear her down so I can actually attempt to communicate with her and not get a face full of acid?”
“And I thought I was insane,” she laughed.
“It’s my job at the moment,” he shrugged.
“Would I get to wear my armor?”
“Of course. Don’t see how else you’d survive. You're still mostly flesh and blood.”
“I’m going to let that insult pass cause it’s been way too long. She’s in the interrogation cells, right? Meet you there in a few.”
“I actually don’t have approval for this yet,” he admitted. “I just had the idea when I ran into you.”
“Well you don’t worry your little head about that, Drake,” she simpered, clapping a hand down on his shoulder so hard he thought his collarbone might fracture. “You let me handle those Admirals.”
-----
Drake didn’t want to know how Lavinaga had gotten permission, but true to her word she appeared in her full star spangled glory about an hour after leaving him in one of the Resplendent Dawn’s many corridors. The hum of the ship and overhead lighting was drowned out by the heavy footfalls and hissing hydraulics of her suit. When she reached his side, the visor of her helmet slid open.
“You have no idea how awful this feels,” she said affectionately. “So, what do you need me and Ares to do?”
“I don’t really know. Just wear her down enough that I can show her how this works without dying,” he suggested, holding up the portable belt sander he’d used to smooth over a few rocks that were now the sole possessions of the Gorgon. Lavinaga just shook her head.
“If that’s what you want. Should be fun. I wonder how long she can go,” Lavinaga said with a bit too much anticipation in her voice. “Well, enough standing around! Let’s go see if she remembers me.”
Drake readied himself at the observation port as Lavinaga hefted her enormous shield and casually threw open the door to the cell. “Sup bitch? Long time no see!”
Thane watched, horrified, as the Gorgon assaulted the Juggernaut with a zeal and fury that she had never shown him. Her venom sacs were depleted within seconds, only scratching the paint of the wall of metal that made up Lavinaga’s shield. She threw what rocks she had and slammed her tail against the hulking monstrosity to no avail, the borderline psychotic laughter of Lavinaga her only reward for her efforts. Sweat dripped from Drake’s brow as his thesis slowly proved itself correct and the Gorgon’s blows slowly weakened and became lethargic. The juggernaut drove the point home by casually pushing her to the ground after about half an hour. “Now why don’t you just get comfortable down there? You’re lucky someone other than me is running the shots or I’d be testing my boot against your skull,” she warned.
“Lieutenant please, we don't know how much of our language she understands,” Drake said over the intercom. “Thank you for your restraint. I’ll be right in.”
On account of the mobile metal wall that stood between him and the broken alien, Drake steadied himself and managed to summon enough courage to enter the area without any protection other than the jeans and shirt he was wearing. In his hands were two stones and the sander. The Gorgon watched his every move, her acid green eyes still alert even as her body failed her. With no acid left to spit, she bore witness to him demonstrating the ability of the sander to grind down and polish rock. He didn’t belabor the point. Instead setting the tool down a couple feet from her. “I want to talk,” he said before turning to leave with the juggernaut. “Lieutenant, whenever you’re ready.”
“You eggheads think up the craziest things,” Lavinaga shrugged. “Am I allowed to taunt it again?”
“Please don’t.”
“Fine, but only because you’re handsome,” she insisted when they were safely outside. “Oh, also you owe me a few beers on account of the time I’m about to spend in the armory. See ya, Thane.”
Drake was so struck by her antics he barely had time to rush back into the cell when he was the Gorgon lifting the tool he’d left her to the one place on her body she had no armor, her neck. “Stop!” he roared, snatching it from her grasp before leaping back several feet as his brain finally caught up with what his body had done. “Why? You’ve been trying to kill us all for months!”
The alien’s eyes were narrow and downcast, and bits of her natural armor littered the cell where they’d been broken against the unyielding armor of Lavinaga’s suit. Small areas of her body were discolored, a deeper green than the rest. He could only assume bruising. “Maybe I am fucking insane,” Drake admitted, walking forward and turning the sander back on. “I didn’t defeat you, so I’m not going to be the one who kills you.”
The Gorgon hissed violently at him, but was unable to physically harm or stop him from grinding down and polishing one of her shoulders. With no other recourse, she simply refused to look at him instead. When Drake left, he took the sander and every rock with him, not wanting to leave her anything that might be used as a tool for suicide. As soon as the door to the cell closed, his legs gave way and he collapsed to the floor, feeling only the racing of his heart and the damp cling of his sweat-soaked clothing to his body. He did not return to the interrogation blocks that day.
-----
“You wanted to see me, Rear Admiral?”
“Yes indeed, Mr. Thane. I daresay you did something, I’m just not sure that something was good,” Natori explained as Drake entered the interrogation wing the next day, having spent more time than necessary grooming and feeding himself. His mind weighed heavily with the pain he’d inflicted upon his charge. The language of the Gorgons remained an inscrutable mess of low pitched hissing and other sounds, but hopelessness was a universal concept. It seemed that their captive was finally allowing that darkness to permeate her mind and influence her actions. Per Kaczynski’s report, gone were the consistent attacks against those bringing her food as well as efforts to eat it. “I am not usually one for threats, Mr. Thane, and I don’t precisely intend this to be one but I know you’ll likely interpret it as such. We cannot afford to lose her. Her potential is too great.”
“I understand, sir. I’ll head in right away,” Thane replied, acknowledging the Admiral’s concern. Instead of stopping by the locker containing his protective gear, he instead grabbed his coffee and walked straight to the cell door. Natori held out a hand but remained silent.
“Well I suppose I did threaten him,” he mused, nevertheless ensuring his sidearm was loaded, a round chambered, and the safety off. Precautions in place, Kaczynski settled in to observe what he was sure, one way or another, would be an eventful ‘session’ with the prisoner. To his most welcome surprise, Drake Thane managed to enter the cell and stand just past the threshold for several moments without getting attacked, dissolved, or impaled. The man took a long draught of his coffee before jerking his head upward in a moment of recollection. The Gorgon watched him all the while, almost unblinkingly, as he left the drink on her untouched breakfast tray and retreated to retrieve the portable sanding device he’d used on her the prior afternoon. He paused to speak with the Rear Admiral.
“Well, I’d call that an improvement,” he insisted. “You ever notice what it smells like in there?”
Natori cocked an eyebrow his way. “I can’t say that I have. I assume you’re about to share?”
Drake shrugged and tilted his head. “Nearest I can describe it is the Devil’s perfume, like if fire and brimstone smelled appealing, or at least rather inoffensive.”
“How curious,” Natori replied, leaning slightly to the right so he could look around Drake. “Though perhaps we should ruminate on that once we secure your coffee?”
Drake spun around fast enough to tweak his neck, finding the Gorgon with his coffee in hand. Her long, thin, black, serpent-like tongue was extended several inches and lapping at the dark brown liquid. The two men stared. “Has she ever been given coffee before, sir?”
“Just water, Mr. Thane. Curious as I am, I would like you to go and stop her now.”
Thane needed no further encouragement, bolting back into the room to snatch back his drink. The Gorgon replaced the disposable lid and offered it to him. Her eyes were still as menacing as ever, but the telltale contractions of her chest muscles that foretold a gout of deadly acid were missing. He tentatively reached out and accepted it, earning a low, complex hiss in return. Glancing down, he pointed at her untouched meal and then the sander. The Gorgon cracked her whip-like tail against the ground in frustration but complied, taking the food to a far corner of the room and beginning to eat piece by piece. Her eyes never left him even during her retreat as she demonstrated a rather remarkable ability to slither backwards.
Drake figured that was good enough, sitting against the opposite wall and opening his coffee. While it didn’t seem any different, he wasn’t about to take the chance that an alien with venomous pseudo-breasts didn’t produce oral toxins. Instead he stood again and approached her, keeping both hands on the cup so as not to arouse suspicion. He deposited it next to her and then returned to his position. With a curious hiss the alien opened the lid and, instead of continuing to drink, dipped the tip of her tail into the still slightly steaming liquid before continuing with her meal.
“What in the world?” Thane whispered, watching as the greenish skin underneath the Gorgon’s natural rocky plating shifted to a yellower hue, starting from the tip of her tail and moving slowly upward towards her body. The color change didn’t get all the way there before stalling out, but she seemed pleased with it to the point that upon finishing her meal she actually pointed to him, then to the sanding tool in his hands, and finally to her other shoulder. Unheard by the two of them, Natori threw his head back in laughter, amazed at the transition from murderous adversary to an imperious giver of orders. Drake shrugged but saw no reason not to comply. He’d been planning to attempt such a maneuver anyway as a further showing of good faith following the Lavinaga incident.
When he stepped within arm’s reach of her, the Gorgon straightened her torso and held out a thin, armored hand and poked him in the sternum. Even her fingers had the potential for danger with their rocky nail-like tips. Her other hand rested on her chest as she hissed a particular pattern of sounds twice in a row; she then poked him again. He nodded. “My name is Drake Thane. Sorry I can’t understand you.”
Undeterred, the Gorgon simply lowered herself back onto her coiled tail and presented her shoulder. She hissed again in a softer tone as Drake activated the sander, taking another glance at his coffee which now seemed to be serving as a tail warmer.
“Might as well get started then. You clearly have quite a bit to teach me.”
Chapter 3
Available to the public on my patreon here due to reddit's post size limit.
Chapter 4
Available to select patrons here

[OC] Chronicles of the Siren War [Chapter 69]

Previous | First
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A/N: Please consider supporting my writing efforts on Patreon. You can follow this story and be alerted when new chapters release via fanfiction.net.
-----
“Are you sure they’ll be alright?” Thorson asked of Fusou, who had just returned to the docks from a final review of the shrine and its remaining attendants, Michishio and Ooshio. She bowed to him, glancing up as he looked her over. They smiled at one another, knowing where each had been looking.
“If and when this is finished, I will sate your appetite and my own until neither of us can stand, tono-sama,” Fusou promised. “Until then you have a commitment to Arizona and, more importantly, to your country. The shrine will be well attended in our absence. Ooshio and Michishio are shy and docile, but they are competent young women.”
“Then I think we should be on our way,” the Commander responded, looking out to the rising sun in the east with tired eyes. “Any advice on the remaining prisoners?”
“I’m sorry, tono-sama, but I do not have anything more. They have heard my stories about what Yamashiro and I were subjected to. They have seen your way of fighting. All that remains is for them to make a decision. I do not blame Kongou, Suzuya, and the others for their inaction. Soryuu will be the linchpin. If you can win her loyalty, you will win Hiryuu’s as well.”
“It won’t help with this battle, but you never know what the future will hold. Thank you, Fusou. You can head out to your ship.”
She smiled sweetly at him and closed her vibrant, teal eyes before leaning against his body and claiming a small but soft and sensual kiss. “I know I made my promise, but in case the worst happens you should know that I love you, tono-sama. May the seas be smooth for our journey and may the gods watch over you, and all of us.”
“Thank you, Fusou,” he whispered, allowing her to let go of his hand and depart. It was only a moment before Arizona was at his side, slipping her hand into his still warm palm. He tried not to let his surprise show. “How long were you watching?”
“Long enough, Commander. But I’m used to it by now, not to mention I consider Fusou something of a sister at this point. Doesn’t mean I wish to hear about whatever sweet nothings she whispered to you. Have you spoken with Brooklyn?”
“I have,” he affirmed, turning back to take in the base that had become his home over the last half a year. The bulins were loading the last few barrels of oil that the Akashi could reasonably fit aboard, where some of the most competent in Thorson’s fleet would watch over the prisoners while operating their hulls remotely. “Assuming we come back, I’m sure it will still be standing.”
“No matter what happens I will be at your side,” Arizona promised. He squeezed her hand gently.
“Thanks for not trying to tell me going up against the Sakura Navy in their home waters and possibly the sirens too will be ‘just fine’. But that does comfort me. Shall we?”
“Most of the fleet is ready to go,” Arizona relayed, using the tower on the back of her rigging to communicate with her sisters in arms. “Can I offer you a ride?” she asked as they approached the waters of the base’s docks.
“This is more comfortable than your sister’s rigging, but don’t tell her I said that,” Thorson laughed, causing her to giggle back at him. Arizona’s large replica of the front of her hull was long enough to seat the two of them, zipping them across the still waters to where her behemoth of a hull awaited them. “I will never not be amazed at how you can control something like this.”
“It’s because I am my ship,” she explained affectionately, resting a hand against the steel as they climbed aboard.
“I’ll take your word for it. When you’re ready, give the order, Arizona. We sail for Ogasawara and the Sanctuary.”
“Aye aye Commander,” she replied, her medals gleaming in the light of dawn as they headed to her bridge. “The standards are raised. I got one from the girls of each faction. We can proceed.”
Before heading up to the command deck Thorson looked up, finding the Union flag flying above that of the Royal Navy, the old Imperial Navy war ensign, and the banner of the Sakura rebels. “Quite the motley fleet we have here,” he remarked affectionately.
“I’m glad you found something to review other than my backside,” Arizona tittered at him from up the stairs. He reached up and swatted that same backside, knowing it was only the two of them aboard.
“And when did you get so cheeky?” he wondered with a smirk that she eagerly returned.
“Well, sometime around when you asked a shy young woman to be your flagship?” she suggested. “You ah… made your point quite forcefully.”
As his fleet steamed north and west out of the harbor, Thorson realized he would have to focus very intently in the event he wanted to get anything done during the voyage ahead.
-----
Several days into the voyage, which up to that point had been uneventful, Thorson paid a visit to the Akashi to review the prisoner situation. He found South Dakota, Minneapolis, and the Asashio sisters there on guard, with Kasumi cradling Minnie’s head in her lap. He looked down at her in particular.
“What?” Minnie asked as her body shrugged for her. “It’s comfortable down here and the little one is rather gentle.”
“I presume all is well inside then?” Thorson requested. To his surprise, Asashio answered instead of Dakota or Minnie.
“There is great uneasiness, Shikikan, but there have been no incidents. Hiei is awake and able to speak once again. It has defused a significant amount of tension.”
“We’re decidedly within Sakura territory now, even after their retreat following Midway. Be on your guard and be ready to fight at a moment’s notice.”
“Yes sir,” South Dakota replied, her medal gleaming and glinting in the sun from its place in her hair. She was still barely clothed from the waist up, so he presumed that state of affairs would continue for some time.
“I hope this battle will be easier on you,” he offered. She waved his worries off with a brush of her hand on his shoulder.
“You should concern yourself only with victory. Let the evils of doubt and trepidation not fall upon you. We shall be your instruments.”
“Instruments can be discarded. That’s not my way,” Thorson explained in a tone devoid of passion. “Sounds foolish, I know.”
“Foo says that we will be stronger together, and that many can overcome even the strongest warrior if they work in unison,” Kasumi offered.
“She’s right Dakota, you know,” Minnie agreed. “If you have business with the prisoners you’d best get it over with Commander, unless you want to be caught on this ship during a battle. Pants around the ankles isn’t a good look outside of your shared cabin with Arizona, I’d say?”
“Oh haha, very funny,” Thorson replied as even the typically stoic Dakota smiled at the jab. He composed himself, straightening his uniform. “My love life aside, thank you all for your work here.”
“You are welcome, sir. Thank you for coming to check on us,” Dakota replied for the small group, allowing Thorson past her and into the infirmary aboard the Akashi that also served as long term quarters for the prisoners taken both at Java and Midway. He had barely stepped foot inside when Soryuu spoke to him, the tall, lapine carrier leaning against the bulkhead just on the other side of the wall from South Dakota.
“Not your way, is it?” she asked, earning the barrel of his Colt in her face in reply. Their eyes met and he lowered his weapon, taking a deep breath as his heart recovered from the surprise. “I approve more of your reaction to perceived threats than your treatment of your soldiers.”
“Well it’s a good thing I don’t yet evaluate my job on the basis of your approval. You don’t talk to me unless you need something, Soryuu. What do you need?” he demanded. She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Nothing. The end will soon be upon us one way or another.”
“You still have a chance to determine how this ends,” he insisted, glancing to his right and noticing that both Hiryuu and Kongou were paying close attention to the goings on. “Just not on your own terms, admittedly.”
To his surprise, Soryuu didn’t so much smile as smirk in reply. “That would honestly not be much of a change.”
Thorson didn’t know how to reply to her, so he simply turned away and walked over to Hiei’s bedside. Her scars had not healed, even those on her face, but she was awake and alert. “Do you think this would help you?” Thorson asked, offering her a couple of shards. Many kansen looked on as she silently took one and closed her singed hand around it, but the small, blue crystal refused to assimilate with her being.
“I suppose not,” Hiei replied sadly. “Who are you?”
“The man who led the forces that defeated yours at Midway. I am sorry for what happened to you. I didn’t know this was possible,” he stated truthfully. “Are you able to eat?”
“I am, though I cannot eat the same sort of meals as my sisters now. Akashi has seen to it. I don’t know the details,” she explained, looking him over warily. Thorson’s mind was full of theories, but he didn’t have the faintest of ideas why she would become more human-like in response to what he considered was a broken wisdom cube. He motioned to her sister, though given the difference in hair color and complexion, he figured adopted sister might be a better term.
“If she needs unique care, let us know.”
“Why won’t her wounds heal?” Kongou demanded. Thorson could only shake his head and guess.
“If I had to give an answer, it’s because she’s essentially human now. We don’t… we can’t heal things like that. That being said, living with such an injury is more than doable. Time permitting, we can discuss this more when the battle is over. I hope there won’t be any more like her. I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can say.”
Kongou’s facial expressions were pained and angry, but she was levelheaded enough to understand Thorson could only do so much given the situation. He turned his attention back to Hiei. “If my force survives the coming battle, I will help you find a new purpose. Your blade was recovered and remains in my office back on the island. In the event your side prevails, you will find it there.”
With everything said that could possibly be said given the realities, Thorson stood and reviewed the rest of them, most of whom averted their eyes. He didn’t blame them. Hiryuu was an exception, of course, and he smiled her way. She frowned back. “When you’re ready to fight again, let me know.”
“Bastard.”
He chuckled to himself. “Yeah, I know. But someone had to stop you. You were too powerful to remain our enemy.” Walking back to the doorway to the exterior of the ship he paused, contemplating what to say to the more cerebral sister of the second carrier division.
“You should go, enemy Shikikan. Battle draws nearer,” she said quietly. He bobbed his head in agreement.
“If we lose, this will likely be the last you see of me. If we win… I will require your aid,” he told her, departing past the guard force before she could give him an answer.
-----
“Shoukaku, Shoukaku-nee!” Zuikaku radioed frantically. One of her scout planes had picked up a large formation, soon corroborated by a second aircraft to be a massive combined fleet of Union and Sakura ships sailing west. “It’s them, the fleet that drove us out of the Java Sea. The Ghost is with them! They’re heading for the Sanctuary! Shoukaku?!”
“I heard you, Zuikaku,” the silver-haired elder replied, looking calmly up at the evening skies as many of her own scout aircraft returned. “Destroy or recall your planes. I think it is finally time for us to make our move.”
“We’re headed south, right? We’re going to join the battle?”
“We are not,” Shoukaku corrected, resting her hand on the still warm engine casing of one of her Zeros. “Unless you wish to die shielding Akagi from her inevitable fate?”
“Of course not!” Zuikaku spat. “But Kaga-sama and the others-”
“Have made their choices, just as we will make ours, Zuikaku. My loyalty remains with Lady Nagato-sama, as it always has. If the Sanctuary comes under direct assault I have no intention of letting such an opportunity go to waste.” Shoukaku’s crane-like kimono billowed in the wind on deck as she began turning her ship, adjusting her heading due north. She placed her flute to her lips and began to play, conjuring a fog to blanket the noise of their engines and to obscure them from view of anyone else watching. “The time has come to liberate the rightful leader of the Sakura from her supposedly self-imposed exile.”
“But Shoukaku…” her sister protested meekly, nevertheless turning to follow after her.
“I know, Zuikaku. Your youthful heart burns for revenge against those who killed Shouhou. But against that fleet you will only meet your doom. If we can deliver Nagato-sama and her guardians safely to the conflict, we may be able to prevent more from suffering the same fate.”
“That’s- We’re going to surrender?!” the brown-haired sister spluttered indignantly.
“We might,” Shoukaku admitted as she finished her melody. “But that die was cast when the decision was made to attack Hawaii, and again when the main force struck at Midway. If you regret remaining out of that battle, by all means go and throw your life away for those kitsune.”
“Could you not be such a jerk about it?” Zuikaku pouted, heading inside and seating herself in a chair on her bridge. “I just don’t know how I’m going to live with myself after all of this.”
Instead of teasing her further, Shoukaku sighed deeply and played a mournful note on her flute. “I know, dear sister. Let us devote everything we have to succeeding in this mission. If we succeed then maybe, just maybe, we will be able to hold our heads high as the Sakura Empire crumbles around us.”
“And if we can’t?” Zuikaku wondered morbidly.
“Then we die proudly and go to our rest knowing that we did so as free women, not siren thralls,” came Shoukaku’s stoic reply. Her sister drew her blade and began her ritualistic honing of its edge.
“Yeah, I can live with that.”
-----
“Alright, so we’re all agreed? The next time anyone shares the commander’s bed for the night they need to tell us all the details! I didn’t realize you were so brave, Zed!” Javelin gushed as the three of them held a ‘secret meeting’ aboard Laffey’s ship.
“Laffey cannot believe Nimi would be first, no no. Commander has much to answer for, yes he does.”
“Mein Gott, Laffey please?” Nimi pleaded, her cheeks bright red as they took shelter from the sun and heat in the shadow of one of Laffey’s torpedo mounts. “I just… I don’t know what came over me.”
“Oh stop teasing her, Laffey,” Javelin insisted with a smile. “The commander saved her life. Don’t you think it’s super romantic? The two of them looking in each other’s eyes and becoming one as she gives herself to the man who rescued her. It makes my cube just flutter!”
“Laffey and the commander drink together, this is also romantic,” the lapine destroyer insisted as Javelin swooned and Zed tried to disappear, looking out at the sea. “Laffey wonders where Ayaya is.”
Javelin and Zed glanced at one another sadly. The Ironblood removed her beret and allowed the breeze to ruffle her blonde hair. “I tried, but I was never able to find any intelligence on her. The Ironblood seems to be operating in accordance with their own interests, and have little concern for allies all the way on the other side of the world.”
“Well if Yuudachi and Yukikaze were willing to join up, hopefully Ayanami will too,” Javelin suggested, trying to dispel the ominous cloud that had hung over the three of them since departing on the mission to destroy the Sanctuary.
“Laffey will kill them all if they do not give Ayaya to us.”
“Laffey! If you do that don’t you think Ayanami would be very sad?” Zed reasoned. “The battleship you attacked is awake now and alive, but anyone less powerful would have been obliterated!”
Laffey hung her head. “Laffey does not know what to do. Laffey was given power to help the commander, but then when Laffey uses it everyone is scared.”
“Laffey,” Javelin said supportively, hugging her friend. “These things happen, but maybe save the big guns for the sirens?”
“Mmm ok,” she agreed before tilting her head. “Nimi says the battleship is awake? Laffey will go now.”
“Wait, what do you mean you’re going? We’re on your ship!” Javelin pointed out. Laffey turned sleepily, shrugging on her vest so she wasn’t just wearing a skimpy white bikini top.
“To find Ayaya.”
-----
Hiei moaned softly and opened her eyes as she sensed a weight on her bed. Her burns didn’t extend that far, but she hated the feeling of tight and uncooperative skin as she moved. Her heart beat quickly as she took note of her visitor. “You.”
“Hey, you get away from her!” Kongou shouted only to find one of the sleepy bunny’s pistols pointed at her face.
“Laffey is not here to hurt the pretty battleship again, but Laffey will do it if you force her to. Laffey is sorry.”
“You, are what?” Hiei whispered.
“Laffey finds many Sakura battleships to be pretty like Yamashiro and Fusou. You are pretty too, and Laffey did a bad thing to protect her commander. But Laffey is not sorry to have protected him, just to have hurt you permanently, yes yes.”
Hiei raised her hand to calm Kongou, who was clearly debating just how far to push her luck. Pennsylvania was observing the goings on from the doorway. “I think it’s fine, sister. What do you want with me, little one?”
“Where is Ayaya. Tell Laffey where her friend is so that Laffey doesn’t have to hurt anyone else,” the destroyer insisted in her still tired voice. Hiei looked around at her fellow prisoners with a confused look on her face. Soryuu spoke up.
“Give up, fellow usagi. Ayanami has gone where you cannot follow. She sleeps forever, dreaming in the Hall of Sculptures, ensnared by the Creator. Maybe one day she will prove her strength and return. Maybe not,” the carrier summarized. Laffey turned her way, her face still sleepy and relatively unresponsive.
“Ayaya is in trouble?” she asked, barely understanding what Soryuu had told her.
“She is beyond trouble. She is beyond this world, at least so far as I can understand,” the carrier clarified. Laffey hung her head and wiped her nose. To the shock of many, she began to cry softly.
“Laffey will save Ayaya, Laffey will do it,” she promised herself before standing to leave, the differential between her sweet, somnolent exterior and internal fury making everyone nearby nervous. “And Laffey will hurt whoever did it much more than the pretty battleship.”
-----
“Commander, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” Hornet wondered, greeting Commander Thorson with a tip of her hat as he disembarked, courtesy of Arizona.
“We’ve been picking up multiple contacts on sonar, and based on navigational data we’ll be at the Sanctuary within twenty four hours. I wanted to stop by and make sure you and your crew are ready,” he explained.
“So they know we’re coming but haven’t engaged us? Well, my scouts haven’t seen anything on the surface so I guess those subs are playing down below,” she deduced, leading him through the bowels of her ship up towards the command tower as Arizona followed politely behind them.
“For now I suppose so. But yes, our movements are undoubtedly not a secret at this point. Not that we’ve tried to hide, either. We still need to take the heat off of the Union.”
“No arguments here, Commander. We were outclassed at Midway and, between you and me; I don’t much fancy the idea of taking a torpedo to the face a second time.”
Thorson nodded approvingly at Hornet’s ability to brush off death. “I think we can all agree on that count, Hornet. Your crew?”
“They’re ready and raring to go, sir. They want revenge for Yorktown, same as Enty. Has she spoken to you much lately?”
“No, she’s been rather quiet,” Thorson confided as they reached the bridge and looked out over Hornet’s operations. A couple of Hellcats were returning from their latest sortie. Hornet’s brow furrowed with worry.
“Do you think you could stop by and have a chat with her then? I make sure to radio every so often but she’s never been one for long conversations. That said, I still know something’s different, being her sister and all.”
“You both just lost your other sister, it’s understandable,” Thorson agreed, thankful that Hornet didn’t seem to be too broken up. He considered that having her crew with her likely helped, placing their needs ahead of descending into a grief spiral. “I’ll head over after this, speak with her in person.”
“I’d appreciate that Commander, thanks much,” Hornet said, looking out over the Pacific. “So any last words of wisdom or encouragement?”
“I think I already mentioned no heroics, so that just about covers it. That said,” he continued, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not like that stopped anyone at Midway.”
“Yeah, I heard the stories about Tennessee cleaving that carrier in half. Must have been one hell of a sight!” Hornet replied almost eagerly. “Think she’ll do it again?”
“Given what I’ve seen of the kansen who was operating it, Hiryuu, I doubt Tennessee will be given another chance to pull something like that. Think you can handle the enemy carriers without overextending?”
“Sure, Commander,” Hornet replied, summoning a tiny Dauntless in her hand. “I’ve been bouncing ideas off of Ark lately, sounds like she scored some kills by out-turning the enemy. A Hellcat isn’t exactly a P-40, but I bet you I can still push mine harder than those Sakura can push a Zero, you know?”
“I was on a submarine before this assignment,” Thorson related. “So I can’t say I do know, honestly, but I trust Ark Royal and I trust you. Have there been any incidents or concerns you want to bring to my attention?”
“I assume you heard about Yuudachi and Shiratsuyu?” Hornet asked.
“I heard Penny had to drag her kicking and screaming off of this boat,” Thorson replied, raising his brows. Hornet chuckled.
“I disciplined the whelp hard, don’t worry sir. The rest of the lads like her a lot, lots of celebrating when the little pup shows up to cook! What happened to Yuudachi? I hope Penny wasn’t too harsh on her.”
Thorson shook his head. “Given Penny’s opinion on Union sailors I’ll bet she congratulated Yuudachi more than anything. But I’m glad that’s the most of our worries. When this is done there will be time for you and your crew to get accustomed to this life, hopefully on less stressful terms.”
“This is what we were trained for, sir. We’re ready,” Hornet insisted. Thorson saluted her, knowing he could only hope for the best now that he was committed.
“I thought I was trained for this too. You have an excellent group of escorts, Hornet. I look forward to seeing you all in combat.”
The carrier nodded and looked past him to Arizona. She winked at her. “It’s quite the honor being assigned some of your favorite battleships, sir. Got room for one more in that club of yours?”
After a few moments of silence Hornet dissolved into laughter. “Oh you should see your faces. Alright alright, I guess my former Captain and I had a different kind of relationship when it comes to jokes like that. Sorry Ari, not trying to horn in on your man, yeah?”
“Oh goodness,” she groaned at the pun. “Commander, perhaps we should go speak with Enterprise? There is no telling when the enemy might engage.”
“Agreed. Hornet, thanks for your time,” Thorson said. Hornet saluted them as they made their departure.
“Anytime you two. Ready and willing to bring it home!”
Thorson looked back at her, unable to miss the Medal of Honor gleaming on her chest. “I’ve no doubt, Hornet. We’re ready to see what Union airpower can really do.
-----
“I miss Yorktown,” Hammann whispered, giving in to temptation as she rested her head in Enterprise’s lap and allowed the carrier to pet and scratch lightly at her ears. It had been impossible for Enterprise to miss the way that the Sakura felines treated the petite destroyer. Upon confirming her cat-like accessories were in fact part of her anatomy, it had been all too tempting to slip into a mutual dependency based on the therapeutic nature of pets.
“I didn’t get a chance to know her very well, but it sounds like the Union lost itself a fine sailor and a kind sister,” Thorson said as politely as he could, rapping on the side of Enterprise’s command tower to announce his presence. He and Arizona had located the two Union kansen taking shelter in the shade there. Hammann promptly leapt to her feet with balled fists and her tail on end, accusing Thorson of being a stalker and a pervert. Enterprise exhaled audibly and stood next to the irked kitten, rubbing her head and tweaking her ears.
“Apologize to the commander before you get us both in trouble, Hammann.”
Arizona could not help but place a hand over her lips and smile at Hammann’s fearsome pout. “She has a hotter temper than Yukikaze, but is no less cute!”
“Why did you get to come back, you and Hornet but not Sims or Yorktown?” the destroyer demanded. Thorson gave Enterprise an understanding look.
“I wish that I knew,” he replied solemnly. “All I do know is that they’re at peace. It’s very obvious when dead Kansen don’t want to stay dead.”
“But why would she want to leave me?!”
“I don’t know why she doesn’t want to come back. Maybe she didn’t even consider it to be possible. But I’m sure that leaving you behind isn’t something either of them would have wanted,” he tried to comfort her.
“If Yorktown told Grim to leave, then I’m sure she knew it was her time. Hornet, of course, would never accept something like that as the youngest. It’s… fitting,” Enterprise summarized sadly. “Why did you come here, Commander?”
“I just paid your sister a visit and wanted to check in with you as well,” he explained. “We will likely make contact within the day. You aren’t the most senior carrier in the fleet but I think Ark would not hesitate to nominate you the most powerful. I know the wounds are raw, but I want you to use your aircraft defensively when the engagement begins, at least initially.”
“You wish to test their defenses and possibly draw out a mistake?” Enterprise deduced. Thorson nodded. “While I never engaged them directly before Midway, I think it’s pretty clear I’m known to them and that they see me as a priority target. I will be happy to draw them into a trap if possible. What will you do with them?”
“Kill them, right?!” Hammann suggested immediately, horrified that that solution wasn’t immediately on everyone’s lips.
“If this war were just about the Union and the Sakura, I would execute them, yes,” he confirmed. “But they are unfathomably strong, too. Neither of you saw what we saw. They can command fire itself. Now I’m not saying any of us need to do that to beat them, but the sirens need to be dealt with. What better… ally than someone who knows something about them?” Thorson reasoned.
“I don’t like this commander at all.”
“Hammann!” Enterprise finally raised her voice, a bit of the emotion contained within slipping through. “Commander, is that really necessary?”
“I wish it wasn’t, Enterprise. But again you weren’t there at Pearl Harbor, nor were you at the facility when we were attacked by the Sirens. Though I get the sneaking suspicion that incident was merely a test, given the extent of their technology. My orders are to find a way to deal with them, and if that includes binding those damn carriers to our cause then so be it. If they refuse you can kill them yourself, Enterprise. Not sure I could bring myself to execute a woman.”
“Is that what it would be, sir?” Enterprise demanded quietly. “A gun to the head?”
“Hiei survived Laffey’s so called annihilation mode. That is the most powerful single weapon at my disposal. The only way they will be weak enough to kill is if they are removed from their ships and perhaps even divested of their rigging. By that point, yes, there will be no indirect methods. I don’t think they would allow themselves to be drowned like… that one ship,” Thorson theorized darkly. Enterprise and Hammann looked at him with new expressions.
“For a pervert, you tell very sad stories, Commander,” the neko said. Thorson held out his hand as Enterprise looked ready to toss Hammann in the drink for insubordination.
“There have already been many sad stories in this war, Hammann. And while the label isn’t exactly wrong, I’d prefer you keep that opinion to yourself. I am still your commander, after all. Enterprise, do you need anything from me or the fleet?”
“No sir, I’m ready for battle. You are… quite up front about your proclivities, though.”
Thorson shrugged. “I was embarrassed about it for a while too. A few self-interested but rather wise kansen talked me out of it. I’m up front about it because the alternative would be even worse. For the record, many of the most decorated kansen at Midway have no relationship with me beyond commander and subordinate.”
Enterprise’s confused and slightly disappointed expression didn’t fade, but she did nod briefly at him. “I understand your meaning, Commander. Thank you for coming to check in with us today.”
“You’re welcome, Enterprise. Formal combat orders will be given once we have a visual on the Sanctuary. Until then do your best to relax and get some rest,” he suggested.
“Yes sir, we will.”
-----
“They are coming, Akagi,” Kaga whispered, placing a cup of matcha on the table in front of her adoptive younger sister as fierce rains drenched the night-shrouded sanctuary. “Even with the rains there is no mistaking their approach. Our submarine fleets have confirmed it.”
“And you ordered them not to attack,” Akagi replied quietly, taking a sip. “No matter, if one of them sunk the Grey Ghost I would probably kill her myself.”
“You think this is about your personal vendetta anymore, Akagi?” Kaga snapped suddenly, even as she calmly drank her tea. “The fifth carrier division can only be considered to have defected by now. We lost several powerful kansen and dozens of escorts at Midway. And before you say something foolish about the strong surviving and the weak perishing, neither you nor I are strong enough to destroy the Union in its entirety. We are strengthened by our fleets. And our fleets dwindle with each engagement as his grows. The Knight of the Union comes for us, Akagi. And if you believe Enterprise will still be using human crews in this engagement you are an even greater fool than I thought.”
“You dare speak to me in that way, sister?” Akagi simpered dangerously, her tails glowing softly in the low lantern light. Kaga’s icy eyes did not waver.
“The Hornet sails with him,” she reported. “Our only victory at Midway was just cut in half, Akagi! Your lust for Enterprise’s head may have already doomed us all. We were forced to display the extent of our powers to them and did not even scratch his base of operations!”
The supreme commander of the Sakura fleets was silent across the kotatsu from her sister, violence practically radiating from her being. “When the Creator witnesses my strength; when I am granted the power to bring back Amagi, I will be sure to kill you before she returns so that she does not weep over the body of her weak, spineless protégé. Why are you laughing, Kaga? Does that amuse you so?”
Kaga shook her head sadly. “Your belief that any of us will be left alive for you to kill is what amuses me, little sister. Enjoy the rest of your tea. I will make my preparations tonight, alone. I may not have lived as Amagi-san wished for us, but if I am to die tomorrow then I will die with honor, and join her among the gods. May the Creator show you mercy, Akagi. The gods and ancestors of the Sakura Empire will not.”
Akagi’s face remained stoic as Kaga stood and walked quietly from the room. As soon as she could no longer hear the sounds of her wooden clogs on the tatami, the teacup in her hand shattered into a dozen pieces. The kitsune could barely feel the scalding water on her fingers. “When I am victorious, alone, I will not need their mercy.”
-----
Previous | First

Top Lasgun: The Camp, Sexy Space Babes Fanfic

FIRST CHAPTER
“Tow Ki Song!” The first alien cried, pointing it’s odd rifle at the pair of pilots. Cookie regarded it through the stinking cloud of cigar smoke. It repeated itself, “Tow. Ki. Song!”
Milk cocked her head, blowing out a ring. One of the soldiers nudged the one who shouted, whispering something in an odd, lilting language. All consonants, no vowels. “Sur-end-ar” She called again. The accent was wrong, too much emphasis on the middle, nothing on the first or last syllable.
Milk held up a finger and took a deep drag from her cigar as Cookie snorted and stomped his out. The half finished cubans found their way to be crushed onto the dirt as the pair slowly raised their hands in surrender.
Aside from the guards, Camp 773 was like any other camp SERE training had prepared us for. Some rumors going around had that this was a US Army POW training camp before the Shil took it over and reforged it to their specifications. Barbed wire gates, watchtowers with guards, one massive tower in the center, a landing pad for supplies well outside the camp, and shitty bunks dotting the hard packed ground. The only difference really was the skin color and height of the guards. And the fact they were all women.
Some of the marines would laugh and catcall the women when they were marching by on duty, but nothing really came of it. Some of the off duty soldiers would catcall back and for the first week, we all fell into a pattern. They stayed on their side of the fence and we stayed on our’s. The leathernecks were sure these are Alien Marines, so that’s what we ended up calling them. Nobody really corrected us.
And then a week later, the spooks arrived. Well, technically it was The Interior, but we just called ‘em spooks. They were thorough, quickly moving through the camp and taking everything we carried in. When someone protested, they’d get a gun shoved in their face or beaten with a stun baton. People quickly shut up. They’d take survival blankets, pillows we’d smuggled or traded for, food stored under cots, they even took Milk and Cookie’s aviators. Not even the Marines did that.
And at the end, they pushed everyone out to the parade ground. A large woman stood there, wearing no armor, but standing with a confidence that comes from knowing that nothing could hurt you. She wore what our best guess pegged as a formal gown, probably a dress uniform of some kind. She spoke that weird, harsh language that some of the marines who spoke German said sounded like that tongue. She spoke that language for a good ten minutes. We all wanted to look around in confusion, but military discipline kept us in line. And then a smaller one stepped forward and began to speak. “She, the Noble Shanxi, Matriarch of the House of Orlon welcomes you to the true Shil’vati Empire Prisoner of war camp. As a member of the Interior she has seen how lax safety and security was taken by the Marines and decided to step in to correct these wrongs. I shall now announce the new restrictions and commands she has given you.”
As the smaller, male Shil’vati talked, soldiers with strange uniform marks walked forward and began placing bundles of clothes at our feet. Each of the bundles looked like the kind you’d give to prison inmates. After a bit more talking about generic stuff, “don’t talk to guards”, “you are prisoners, not soldiers”, “escape and we will shoot you”, that kind of stuff, he said the magic words that indicated how badly this next month would go. “You will now turn in your ID tags and pick up your jumpsuits. You will then proceed to your bunks and put the suits on and remain there until mealtime.”
There was a pause as soldiers broke formation and began to look down at the suits and look around. And then at a single man.
Colonel Nurdi Melikov was the highest ranking soldier in the camp, something identified very early on. The son of a Chechen refugee, he had put the pieces of what was about to happen together sooner than anyone else. He stepped forward and spoke up. “Well, ma’am.” He began “I don’t know about your nation, but our’s has requested that all POW’s, Prisoners of War, be treated with dignity. Part of that is letting us keep our ID-” before he could finish his sentence, a stun baton bashed into his gut, sending him to his knees. The smaller one whispered a translation to the larger woman. The woman laughed.
I saw Milk and Cookie’s hackles raise and the hair on the back of their neck stood on end, they later said it was the same laugh the pilot they shot down had, “You are now a subject of the Empire and we are the Empress’s Interior.” The small one translated, “You will not question us and you will learn respect.”
Colonel Melikov slowly stood back up and glared at her. “We will not be turning over our ID tags.” He said simply.
And that is how the first riot of Camp 773 began.

Private Cora Kinnerk, US Army, on the Interior’s takeover of Camp 773.

Aoibhinn "Milk" McDermott and Ryan "Cookie" Kennedy sat quietly in their bunk. The curfew was enforced and after the riot, nobody in the camp had the energy to sneak past guards to visit other barracks. Milk rubbed the ring threaded onto her dog tag chain while Cookie massaged his leg, trying to get it to stop twitching from where a guard held the shock baton to it. They were both sporting black eyes and bruises, just like everyone else in the camp. Colonel Melikov had been grabbed earlier on in the riot and dragged away, and nobody had seen him for a few days. “Anyone planning a Steve McQueen?” Cookie asked Milk, referencing the lead actor in “The Great Escape”.
Milk shook her head, “Still feeling the spooks out.” She replied, “Gotta find what’s ignored and what’s punished first. Been a bit of a problem.”
“Inconsistent?”
“Inconsistent as shit.” The WSO replied with a bite. “I so much as blink and get smacked around while others can steal food and get a glare.
“Think it’s because we shot down that one gunship?”
“Maybe.”
The pair drifted back into silence.
Colonel Milikov was returned to us at the end of the week, beaten and bloodied, dumped in front of his bunkhouse in the middle of night missing teeth and with one eye nearly swollen shut. He was quiet.
“They’re like the KGB.” He said, “Unchecked and everywhere.” He’d know. His father was brought in for questioning once by the KGB before his mother ran for NATO lines. He remembered her watching news reports of the second Chechen war and crying.
The Purps intercepted whatever the Red Cross tried to send us. I know this because I saw a pair of them, rooting through one of the care boxes and trying to figure out how to open a carton of Marlboro Reds. Ended up just slicing it open with a knife and trying one. Gotta say, first time seeing a Purp smoke one of our shitty Cowboy Killers? I’ll remember that until I die. Anyway, shit like that kept ramping up ‘till a breaking point.
Apparently a couple of the guards got drunk on duty one night and decided they wanted to have some… fun with one of the prisoners. His bunkmate came back from the shitter seeing them ripping off his clothes after they gagged him. The intention was clear.
Turns out those fancy visors of their's weren't that good against a solid wood chair being brought down on the back of their stupid skulls. Then the one who wasn’t knocked the fuck out called for backup, the bunkmate shouted “Riot” and shit just went insane.
Turns out Marines don’t like it when invading aliens try and rape one of their buddies.
Who knew?

Sergeant Major Colin Ryan, USMC, on the second riot of Camp 773. Neither Interior Member was charged with any crime.

“She’s looking for whoever shot down a UFO.” Someone whispered down the line at lunch. Milk and Cookie froze. “Her daughter was on it and died. She’s out for revenge.”
“Well shit.” Cookie said.
“No kidding.” Milk replied. “When she finds out-”
Cookie shook his head, “Don’t say anything. If the Colonel says they’re like the KGB, they’re like the KGB. Can’t know who’s listening.”
Milk nods, “Right. Right. Well this is… a mess.”
Cookie snorts, “Understatement.”
“Gotta say,” Milk began, changing the conversation, “If it wasn’t for them being the occupying force, I’d be all over these ladies.” She said loudly, “Anyone who can pull off an armored catsuit, mmm.”
Some of the other soldiers around the table laughed and raised their cups, “Hear, hear!”
Cookie shook his head, “You are such a useless lesbian.” He said with a fond smile.
“And don’t you know it, Kennedy!”
The first escape attempts happened soon after the second riot. Folks got it into their heads that there might be a resistance kicking around outside and that they were waiting. Said they noticed some figures on a nearby hill with binoculars watching the camp. Thought they were enemies of the Shil’vati. Turns out they were enemies of the Interior and when they arrived, we were happy to see them.
First the Interior guards cut our sleep and confined us to bunks. Nobody could leave except for parade hour where we were screamed awake before sunrise and made to stand listening to whatever propaganda they had translated into English that day. Made some of us feel like were back in basic.
If we weren’t getting yelled at or beaten for not doing whatever menial tasks they had us doing, we were stuck in the small barracks. Probably 10 bunks and 15 soldiers per bunkhouse, cramped living, but we slept in shifts and kept up watches. Again, just like basic.
Then they cut our rations. After the Shil kicked us out, we found out that we had originally been served a single Shil’vati MRE per day, enough to get a soldier through a ruck, but not much else. Not even a combat MRE which was made to be eaten as quickly as possible, just a standard garrison meal. During those last few weeks that was cut in quarters. First they took away lunch, so we ate at sunrise and sunset. Then seeing we weren’t beaten to hell, they cut how much food we got. A good meal of 2 nutrient bars, a liter of water and some assorted mashed stuff became 8 ounces and a single bar with no mashed stuff to round it out. Starvation rations. That got us hurting. Some soldiers always seemed to have a few more bars to share around than others. We never questioned how they got them. The look in their eyes was telling enough.
Kept that up for a few weeks and we started to suffer.
We got into fights with each other, which just had the guards waiting until someone was on the ground before going in and beating everyone involved senseless with their stun batons. Or opening fire with those rifles set to “hurt” into the gathered crowd. We were getting pissed and we were getting reckless.
Turns out not everyone had discarded their SERE training and we had a few Engineers in the group. Since we were pretty much eternally confined to quarters, the combat engineers pushed aside some bunks and started digging. Soon enough we had a half decent tunnel network between the bunks and, for a while, it was undiscovered.
And then some folks tried to make a run for it.
Ya see, you give US Army Combat Engineers nothing to do and shovels and they’ll dig a trench. Leave them alone for a bit longer and they’ll dig a bunker system.
Slap a fence in their way… they’ll tunnel under it and pop up at the nearest booze joint looking for a good time. The Shil not only put a fence in their way, but they said they weren’t allowed to cross it. It was inevitable that the tunnel out was finished as quickly as it was.
Shame they misjudged how far out the Shil’vati guards were able to fire.

Private Jack Mendoza, US Army, on the starting of the Third Riot of Camp 773

Milk and Cookie woke up to the sound of alarms, shouts and strange weapon fire. At first Milk thought the camp was being liberated, but when the weapon fire died down and no sharp crack of ballistic projectiles replied, she had to admit it was probably a faint hope.
Cookie looked over to the Army Engineer in the barracks who was quickly covering the tunnel under his bed and brushing soil off his orange jumpsuit.
He shook his head sadly.
Barely after they threw the planks over the still disturbed hole, a boot kicked the flimsy door open and a Shil’vati Interior guard started screaming at everyone to get out, rifle up and tracking the POW’s. As the pair were marched out they noticed a handful of soldiers dragging some human POW’s back kicking and screaming, literally in one case before judicious application of stun baton put an end to it.
As the whole camp was marched out to the parade ground, three of their fellow POW’s were brought up onto the stage with guards standing behind them. The guards forced them to kneel.
Cookie barely heard Colonel Melikov take a short breath in through his teeth before the Interior Noble walked on stage and began to yell angrily. Some of the guards laughed along at what seemed like jokes before the translator did his job and everyone’s face paled at the exact same moment.
“It seems your fellows have decided the gracious accommodations of the Interior were not to their liking and tried to flee without saying goodbye. That was very rude of them! I think we need to teach them a lesson, don’t you agree girls?” Milk and Cookie felt tunnel vision began to creep in as they stared wide eyed at the soldiers standing behind the kneeling POW’s. All holding pistols, “If they don’t want to stay here… perhaps they’d feel more at ease at the Goddess’s side. Or whoever you dirty primitives pray to.”
All Milk remembered was the silence. The silence as the noble raised her hand in a dismissive gesture.
The silence broken when, as one, the electrical hum of an energy pistol being readied for an overcharged shot echoed through the camp.
The silence broken even further when every soldier, every voice, every beaten down and pissed off Prisoner Of War rushed forward with nothing in their hands but spite and rage.
Milk remembered tackling the legs out from a guard as a marine dived towards her face, tripping her to the ground. She remembered her face getting splattered with blood as a third soldier brought his boot down onto the woman’s skull, adrenaline forcing him to ignore the sickening crunch of bone and boot as purple mixed with red and the guard died, grey matter spilled all over the sand.
She remembered looking over to see Cookie diving onto the stage and slamming his shoulder into the chest of one of the kneeling prisoners, pushing his head out of the way as the Shil’vati guard instinctively fireed her weapon, searing the arm off the poor bastard trying to attack her.
The noble scrambleed back in fear as a hundred and change angry voices are raised as one against her, her guards firing blindly, not even thinking enough to set their weapons to lethal. POW’s drop to the ground screaming in pain from the low powered laserblasts or silently from the guards with enough wit to raise the power on their weapons. But it was not enough. This was a riot, a pit fight, a knock down drag out bar brawl. This wasn't the area for fancy tech and longguns. This was the place for survival instinct and rocks and adrenaline.
And nobody fights harder than someone with nothing left to lose.
Milk barely remembered what happened during the 20 minutes the camp was set ablaze in full on riot. All she knows is that when a Marine gunship overhead began to open fire with stunner rounds and blaring that everyone, POW and Interior, was to stand down, her face was stained with blue blood and she was missing her pinkie.
Cookie fared better. His arm hung limply at his side and he had resorted to headbutting the Interior guard who had him pinned before she was shot off him by a Shil’vati marine who then put her gun in his face and told him to stand down.
And just like that, it was over. The soldiers had arrived.
An exo suit stood in the center of the camp with gunships flying in a low circle. Marines wearing full helmets and heavier armor than the Interior had separated the groups. The POW’s readied for another assault before humans pushed through the watching marines.
They wore white coats with an odd purple emblem stitched over their heart, but the universally recognized red cross on their shoulders had every prisoner’s shoulders sighing in relief as they rushed forward, shoving soldiers to the ground and forcing those fit to stand to clear the area with the tone of voice only trained corpsmen had. Relief had arrived, and just in time.
Cookie collapsed onto Milk, eyes flickering as Milk was forced to the ground by one of the medics. The doctor put a strange injector to the side of her neck and the last thing she saw before passing out was a Shil’vati woman in a strange brass chest piece and cape marching up to a terrified looking noble with what looked like intent to kill.
She passed out smiling.
Debrief of the events in Prisoner Of Conquest Camp 773.
Writing Officer: Mistress Of Arms Senior Marine Sau’fai Kaltani.
Reason for Debrief: Failure of the Interior and Overseeing Noble, Shanxi of the House of Orlon, to hold her soldiers and camp to Shil’vati standards.
Transcript of Debrief to follow:
[134 pages omitted, filed with Chief Communications Officer of Shil. Document number 1853741b. Salutis Orange clearance required to read.]
Result: Prisoner of Conquest Camp 773 back under Marine Expeditionary Force command. Shanxi of House Orlon removed from position as Overseeing Noble. No further punishments allotted.
Document End
NEXT CHAPTER

but then i think mmm better not video

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But Then I Think...mmm Better Not GIF - Better Not

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Sometimes i think i should do my homework but then i think ... MMM ...better not - Fat_Am | Meme Generator

Since I haven't posted on here in five days I guess I'll join a bandwagon for once. 30 facts, be warned, I'm a bit odd.

sometimes I have the feeling I can do crystal meth

The Su Cycle of (bae) AMD: WARNING TSUNAMI tendie alert!

Shifting FIRE Strategies: Choosing a lower net worth. From 'as fast as possible' to maximizing certainty and flexibility. Featuring two purposeful "mistakes" - paying off the personal mortgage, and exiting Real Estate Investing. The journey from Negative 172K to nearly FI.