Obligatory this happened 9 years ago but I still think about it every day.
It's a long one so buckle up.
(Apologies about the grammar and such, writing is not my forte.)
Me: $D
Friend/Co-Conspirator: $F

This story starts with me, a 'quiet but well liked throughout the school' 17 year old in IT class at my High School in a large suburban, two city public school district. We had one of the best high school IT programs in the country at the time for many reasons. Part of our class (of about 35) involved us going around the school to do basic maintenance on school computers. Although with the exception of myself and $F, our class never touched staff computers.
Myself and $F were the two students always finishing our two week classwork cycle in about two days. So we were always tasked by our IT Teacher with helping the school IT guy (district employee stationed at the school in the IT lab) to go around and fix issues throughout the building while everyone else worked on their classwork. Often, we were loaned the IT guy's keys and district keycard to go around the school and take care of business. (This is important later) Over time, myself and $F became well known by staff around the school for being able to fix "anything" so we eventually gained a lot of trust from our IT Teacher and District IT guy. To the point that we knew passwords we ABOSOUTELY should not have known.
We knew everything from the password to the surveillance system to the master (domain admin) password district IT used to access everything from HR files to grades to mechanical systems. This password literally let us access anything on any computer in the entire district. And before you ask, yes all buildings in the district (including admin) were linked together and no they weren't firewalled off from each other. Now we never used our powers maliciously as we loved our school and never would've done anything to harm anyone or damage any systems.
One day I thought to myself "wow, Information Security (InfoSec) in this district is atrocious, I wonder how easy it would be to test it from a student perspective, then present my findings to the district IT guy". This, would be the beginning of the biggest fuck up of my life.
(I'll try to keep the technical stuff to a minimum)
My mission started one day when I was tasked to grab a computer from a classroom and bring it to the lab. Easy enough. I was given IT guy's 35+ keys and sent off. While walking to the room, I dropped the ring, it took me a minute to find the right key on the ring. When I found it, since I was looking bit harder than usual at each key, I noticed something peculiar about the key he used to open doors inside the school. It was stamped DGM and looked different than the usual *M stamp master key for this one high school building. Not seeing this abbreviation before, I thought, "ok this must be an important key since it works like a school master but looks different".
I opened the (empty) classroom, fired up a locksmithing app on my phone and took a digital impression of the key that gave me the bitting code so I could duplicate it later on, grabbed the computer, went back to the lab and gave the keys back. Curious about what this DGM stamp meant, I started googling on my phone, "DGM [Key Manufacturer]". It came up with GM as "Grand Master", the key above the master key. Nothing with DGM came up in the search. I thought "ok this is just the "grand master" key that opens all three buildings on the school property, NBD. (Main School, Theater, and Aux Gym buildings)
"Ok. but what does that D in DGM stand for? Nothing in the school district starts with a D, except... District. Holy shit, it must mean "District Grand Master. But they can't be stupid enough to make one key that opens doors in all 15 schools. Right?"
I get home and order a key duplicate on the website that built that locksmithing app. A week later it shows up and I bring it to school. Before gym class I tried it on one of the doors in the Aux gym and low and behold, it worked. Great! Part one of my test plan is complete. Someone with this key could cause a lot of damage if they wanted to, but how would they get past the alarm systems in each building? Because it would be difficult to discreetly do a lot of damage if the building was full of people. Naturally someone with ill intensions would carry out their act at night while the building alarms are armed.
I already knew that the alarm systems were controlled by keycards that every staff member in the district had. (It was an antiquated system with flaws known to the IT world) Their cards only worked for the buildings they worked in. So the cards, electric doors, and alarms must be controlled at the school level, not at the district admin office. Right?
So how was I going to get a hold of a keycard long enough to scan and duplicate it onto a new card? It required a laptop and a special piece of equipment that I couldn't just bring to school while everyone was there. I thought "I can't access the security system and lookup badge codes with the IT master password I know, that defeats the whole purpose of this test. Where's the next vulnerability in this system?" Then I realized, there's a gate to the staff parking lot that's opened with keycards, but not their district cards, they had separate cards for the gate. I scanned the entire network for this gate controller, but couldn't find it anywhere. "Good Job school district, leaving your gate system closed circuit. It's inconvenient to program, but definitely more secure."
Okay, so where is this gate controller located? I've got a district master key so when I find it, I can access it locally. I look at the gate itself and see a freshly paved line in the concrete leading from the gate motor to the Aux Gym. "Okay, its somewhere in the Aux Gym."
I wait until Saturday during Football practice, the Aux Gym is disarmed and the front door is open. Everyone's out on the field so no one will see me enter the building. "Hey there's a closet by the front door I'll try this one first." There it fucking is. The gate controller is mounted on the wall. I open up the panel and attach my laptop. "Fuck there's a password, what could it be? It's not going to be the master password, this isn't connected to the network." I look at the circuit board, there's a label with "admin - (name of city school is located in)". Unbelievable, that's the login. "District IT People are paid six-figures to make this shit up? Seriously?"
I accessed the swipe log and I noticed an interesting trend. Half the time someone swipes into the parking lot, there's an access denial that immediately precedes a valid gate card swipe. "They must be swiping their district cards first instead of the gate card!" Lucky for me, this system records badge numbers when access is denied. So I had access to several district keycard codes, protected by a password that is the name of our city. Wonderful. I sift through the logs and notice the names of three district janitors, all three with the preceding access denied messages and codes, followed by their valid gate cards. I remembered these people from my previous schools, so their district cards must open multiple buildings. (Remember when I mentioned that district buildings weren't firewalled off from each other on the network?)
I took one of the codes and encoded it onto a blank keycard with that special piece of equipment that cost me $20 on eBay, walked out the front door and scanned the card. I heard a loud click and the reader light turned green. Holy shit, I now have a DGM key and a keycard that disarms EVERY school alarm system in the district. Nothing is off limits to me. Part 2 complete.
I call up my friend $F who somewhat knew what I was doing, and once nighttime rolled around, we decided to visit almost every school in the district. Just to see if it actually worked. And boy it did. We easily swiped into each school, the alarm automatically disarmed, and the DGM key opened every door in every building we visited. I found myself thinking "Good Lord, security here is even more atrocious than I thought". We had the decency to rearm each building before we left and once we were done, we planned on telling the IT guy on monday when we went to class.
Well, my dumbass decided to try one more school the next day (Sunday Morning), I swiped in and within 10 seconds, the (middle school) principal walked through the door and asked "Who are you?" I could've bolted out the front door, but I wanted to be honest because they were gonna find out on monday anyways. So I told him who I was and what I was doing (very short version).
He took me to his office and had me sit down while he made a phone call. It was someone at the district office. All I heard him say was "I can't distinguish this from my own badge, its a perfect copy but it has his name and photo on it". He hangs up. Asks me more questions and it eventually leads to the DGM key. This especially panics him because he knew what it was but didn't know anyone other than the District Ops manager that had one. He makes another phone call, "This is (principal name) at (middle school) I need someone to come down here now." I'm thinking "Okay, someone from the district will be here to ask more questions, cool."
Boy was I wrong, within a few minutes about six police officers show up and start asking me questions. I'm honest, I tell them my plan and what I did. They all looked utterly confused by the end of my short explanation. They took the keycards and DGM key and asked me to call my parents to pick me up. They search my car and find pot in the trunk (oops). So there's a charge right there. They said they'll notify us later once they talk to the district and I was released into my dad's custody.
A few hours later, my mom gets a phone call from $VP saying I'm not to attend school monday and we will have a meeting that evening at the high school. "Okay, understandable. I haven't been able to explain myself. They're playing it safe."
Whoops wrong again!

IT Teacher: $ITT
District IT Director: $ITLady
Vice Principal: $VP
Cops: $PD
We arrive at the school for the meeting, my IT teacher is sitting in the school office with a disappointed yet very proud look on his face. As we arrived we were called into the conference room, I expected it to be just $VP, lmao no. It was $VP, two cops, and some random district official. My IT teacher was there just to translate the technical terms. I explain my whole plan, being interrupted many times by everyone to ask their questions. At one point $VP says "Jesus $ITT you're not supposed to be teaching this stuff!"
$ITT: $VP, Do you realize the amount of critical thinking and work that went into this project?"
Well, after he says this, there's a knock on the door. "$VP, $ITLady is here"
"Random district official" leaves and $ITLady enters and sits down in front of me"
$VP: $M this is $ITLady, the District Director of IT. She has some questions for you.
$M: Ok
She proceeds to tear into me, asking "WHAT DID YOU BREAK, WHAT DID YOU HACK?!" I could literally see the veins popping out of her head. She was pissed the fuck off.
She couldn't accept that a bored teenage kid that just wanted to see if this was possible, was able to compromise her systems in one week. At one point the officers asked her to leave the room and take a break because she was getting so worked up.
Fast forward to after the meeting, the police took myself, my mom, $VP, and $ITT to my house and seized all of my electronic equipment. Everything from my cell phone, to my laptop, to my WiFi adapter and everything in between. My favorite part was when they were searching my computer bag. The police officer opened it, rummaged around for a bit, taking everything electronic out, then gently and over dramatically pulling a strand of condom wrappers out in front of everybody.
$Mom: *Glares at me* Previously not knowing I was having sex at 17
$Mom's new BF: *Leaves room immediately*
$Cops: *Looks at $VP not sure what to do*
$ITT: *Gently facepalms*
$M: Thinking "Fuck, this is bad"
$VP: *staring at the cops for about five seconds* "Okay well let's move on"
They all leave after seizing basically everything I own.

Fast forward to a few days later, I get a letter from the district saying I have been suspended pending expulsion. Great.
We attend the expulsion hearing, I say exactly what I said in the first meeting with $VP and the cops.
Get another letter two days later, I'm expelled. We appeal to the school board and the district's lawyers. They don't want to hear any of it. Appeal denied. They're pressing full charges. Okay I didn't know what the charges were but they were pressing them. Cool, great.

Two months later I meet with county Juvenile, I again explain to them my story, they're just as confused as the district people but my Juvenile rep is taken back by my calm demeanor and willingness to share all the details. By this point the district has done a through investigation and found no evidence that I stole or caused damage to property or their computer networks. They then Inform me I'm being charged with:
-- 9 counts of Felony Burglary 2
-- 3 counts of Class A Misdemeanor Computer Crime
-- 3 Counts of Class A Identity Theft
-- 1 Count of Poss. Controlled Substance on School Grounds
I'm also ordered not to use any electronic devices until I see the judge. This included something as simple as a TV remote.
Fuck Me

I have a few more meetings with the County Juvenile rep, she was actually a very nice person and was surprised I was assigned to her in the first place because she usually got the murders and rapists. She got to know me and my true intensions with the entire plan over the next month.
Before my first hearing, she (the county) recommended to the school district not to press charges. They felt this could be remedied in-district, since while crimes were committed, I wasn't aware of the crimes and there was obviously no bad intent.
During the hearing, my Juvenile rep and shitty court appointed lawyer explained my side and the district lawyer explained theirs. The judge was extremely confused by the whole situation, saying "we've never seen a case like this before, at this point I don't know how to proceed" The DA also looked equally as confused.
Judge asked the district's lawyer: "How do you want to proceed?"
Lawyer: We'll take this under further review
Judge: $M expect a call from your Juvenile rep this week. Adjourned.

Three days later, we receive a call from Juvenile. The district is pursuing all charges and wants $80,000 in restitution for a new district security system. Wonderful news.
I live in a constant state of panic for the next three months while waiting for the next court date. I end up going to the district's alternate school for a while while attending twice weekly meetings at juvenile.
Went a few more times in front of the judge, my lawyer, Juvenile, and district lawyers doing all the talking, explaining the entire case to the judge. The district still insisting I stole and damaged district property even though I never did and they ever found any evidence.
About seven months into this, the Judge had enough. She didn't want to hear anything more and was going to issue my disposition (ruling) at the next hearing.
She explained that $80,000 in restitution was ludicrous and the district was going to pay for their own security upgrades if they chose to.
She then looked at me and asked me to rise.
Judge: "I have three options here Mr. $M"
"Option 1, I dismiss all of the charges and we'll be done here
Option 2: I drop the marijuana charge, reduce all other Charges to Attempted (Misdemeanors), and sentence you to one year bench probation
Option 3: I send you to jail right now"
I almost lost it right there.
Judge: "Based on what I've heard from our Juvenile rep and read in the police reports, I'd like to go with Option 1 and dismiss the charges. But because of the sheer severity of the crimes on paper, I am unable to do that. So I am going with Option 2. I hereby sentence you to one year of bench probation and order you to pay restitution in the amount of $3,200 for district staff overtime. Good luck Mr. $M."
I don't remember what was said after that because I was so relieved I almost passed out.

After three months of thinking I was going to prison for 20 years, it was all over. I was numb for the rest of the day.
All in all, The whole experience only left me with severe depression and anxiety for a few years but hey I'm not in prison. Great, right?
Actually it ended up better than I thought. I ended up graduating from the alternate school's accelerated graduation program shortly after that. (The district wanted me out of their hair ASAP)
I received a full diploma from my regular High School at the end of my junior year. I got to essentially skip most of my junior and all of my senior year of HS. Ended up working my ass off and got a great IT job at a company I still work for today. And now I have IT Director as my title.
And that is how I royally fucked up by shaming the fuck out of my school district
Shove it $ITLady!

TL;DR I exploited security flaws in my school district's security system. They got royally pissed and tried to send me to prison. Instead the judge gave me a slap on the wrist and I graduated a year an a half early. Now have a great job in IT.

Edit: Some amount of proof that this isn't fake because I forgot people on the internet are asses
Edit2: random internet people, while yes, this story is extremely dumb and sounds extremely false, I swear on my life this story is 100% true. For the techies, I intentionally left out some details because they're boring to most people. If you have a question just ask.

I catfished a former boss to get paid

Fallout 76: Inventory Update Notes – January 26, 2021

Today’s update brings a Stash increase, a variety of improvements for your inventory and U.I., a new wave of bug fixes, and more. Read on for the full list of changes in Fallout 76.

Update Highlights

Store More Stuff!: We've increased the Stash limit to 1,200 pounds so you have even more room for loot.
Sort Your Inventory with Ease: Stay on top of all the gear you’ve been collecting by using three new tabs in your inventory: “New,” “Armor,” and “Food/Drink.”
What’s Weighing You Down?: From now on, when you select a stack of items in your inventory, the menu will show you the total weight of that stack.
Know Before You Go: Player Vending Machine tooltips on the map now displays how many 1-, 2-, and 3-star legendary items they’re selling.
Build Mode Color Update: Outlines in build mode now appear blue instead of green so that players with colorblindness can more easily differentiate between valid and invalid placement.

Update Version

Check today’s update version and download size for your platform of choice below:

PC (Bethesda.net): 1.5.1.26 (1.6 GB)
PC (Microsoft Store): 1.5.1.26 (5.0 GB)
PC (Steam): 1.5.1.26 (2.0 GB)
PlayStation 4: 1.5.1.25 (4.2 GB)
Xbox One: 1.5.1.25 (4.8 GB)

Inventory and User Interface Improvements

Stash Increase: Hold onto extra gear with a Stash increase! We've increased the amount of weight your Stash can hold by 50%, giving you 1,200 pounds to work with.
New Inventory Tabs: We’ve added a few new tabs to your inventory menus so that you can better organize your gear, from your snacks and Stimpaks, to your outfits and armor.
- New – This tab will keep track of all the items you gather during a play session, sorted by newest to oldest.
- If you already have a stackable item in your inventory, like Steel Scrap, then new Steel Scrap you pick up will not appear in the “New” tab. Instead, it will be added to your existing stack.
- Additionally, the “New” tab will reset if you leave your current world.
- Armor – We’ve split Armor into its own menu tab so that you can keep your defensive gear separate from your other Apparel.
- Food/Drinks – Your food and drinks are now split out from “Aid” into their own “Food/Drinks” inventory tab.
- Please note that your Chems and Serums will remain in “Aid.”
Stack Weight: What’s weighing you down? From now on, when you select a stacked item in your inventory, the Pip-Boy will show you the individual weight and the stack weight.
Vending Machine Map Previews: The tooltip that appears when you’re previewing another player’s Vending Machines on the Map will now show the number of 1-, 2-, and 3-star legendary weapons and armor they’re selling. This way, you’ll have more information about the legendary goodies players are selling before you choose to Fast Travel to their C.A.M.P.s.
- Additionally, Vending Machine categories that are empty will no longer appear in the tooltip to help you more easily see what types of items players do have for sale.

Additional User Interface Updates

Atomic Shop: We’ve added a button to each category page in the Atomic Shop that will let you show or hide the items you already own, so that you can browse what’s still available with less clutter.
Build Mode Visual Improvement: We’ve changed the color of the outline that appears when you build objects in your C.A.M.P. from green to light blue, which should be more friendly for our builders who have colorblindness.
- This change is only visible when the object you're trying to place is in a valid location, and invalid placement outlines are still red.

Daily Ops

Elder Tier Rewards: In response to community feedback, we’ve adjusted Daily Ops rewards so that you will always receive an item from the rare rewards pool whenever you complete an Op fast enough to reach Elder Tier.

Spread the Love: New Challenges and Rewards

Starting today, and lasting until February 16, you can claim a free “Heart Wrencher” Skin for the Pipe Wrench in the Atomic Shop, and then use it to complete Challenges that will unlock new cosmetic and consumable rewards!
- Earn Lunchboxes, Perk Card Packs, and Repair Kits by defeating enemies with your Heart Wrencher every day during the Spread the Love event.
- You can also claim outfits, and even a new variation of the Backwoods Bungalow, by completing Weekly Challenges with your Heart Wrencher equipped.

Bug Fixes

Allies

Settler Forager: Corrected missing player dialog options for Settler Forager.

Art & Graphics

Apparel: Fixed texture issues with the Samurai Helmet.
Apparel: Reduced the gap between the Deep Cave Hunter Backpack and the player’s back.
Apparel: The Pip-Boy light no longer shines behind the player in the Brotherhood Recon Helmet.
Apparel: Fixed a texture issue with the Fasnacht Beret.
Décor: Updated the explosion seen when destroying Wrapped Presents.
Décor: The flame on Skull Candles no longer appears offset from the wick.
Items: Updated the explosion effects when destroying Mr. Handy Fuel and Portable Fuel Tanks.
Lights: Yellow lighting effects no longer persist after the Color Wheel has been turned off.
Lights: Adjusted the lighting on the “Kill, Laugh, Love” Sign so that the word “Laugh” is no longer too bright.
Power Armor: Headlamps no longer shine in an incorrect direction when wearing a T-65 Power Armor Helmet that has a paint applied.
Power Armor: Addressed missing textures and reduced clipping issues with the Captain Cosmos Power Armor.
Power Armor: War Rider Power Armor now properly protects the player’s posterior.
Vending Machines: Adjusted the explosion when destroying the Slocum’s Joe Vending Machine.
Weapons: Mind over Matter’s visual effects no longer appear to come from the player’s shoulder in third-person view.

C.A.M.P. and Workshops

Exploit: Addressed an exploit affecting item storage in the Stash box.
Shelters: It is now easier to place structures, like the Seedy Shed, Backwoods Bungalow, and others inside a Shelter, as long as there is enough space to do so.
Stairs: Stairs can now snap to the front of the Brotherhood of Steel Scout Tower.
Super Mutant Tube: Players can no longer get stuck inside the Super Mutant Tube while building it.

Challenges

World: The “Discover Beckley” subchallenge for the “Discover Locales in the Ash Heap” Challenge can now be completed.

Daily Ops

Rewards: Fixed an issue that could result in no rare reward being granted if the item the player would have received was a non-tradeable item Plan that they had already learned. Now, players will always receive a reward when this occurs.
Operation Report: Addressed a visual issue that could incorrectly mark reward tiers as already earned in the Daily Ops Operation Report.
- Please Note: Daily Ops rewards reset at 12:00 p.m. ET each day.

Diseases

Rad Worms: Rad Worms now only increases Radiation damage taken from consuming food and drinks.

Enemies

Spawning: Fixed an issue causing enemies to sometimes spawn grouped together at an incorrect location.
Giant Hermit Crabs: Players can no longer clip through Giant Hermit Crabs.

Items

Apparel: The Feral Ghoul Mask and Cuddles the Clown Mask no longer obscure the Pip-Boy light.
Apparel: The Plague Doctor Mask now correctly states that it prevents air borne diseases.
Apparel: The Swamp Camo Hazmat Suit can now be repaired.
Armor: Raider Armor now correctly works with the Funky Duds and Sizzling Style Legendary Perks.
Armor: Recon Armor now correctly adjusts to the players body style.
Flora: Thistle now correctly turns into Irradiated Thistle when nuked. Irradiated Thistle can now be harvested for Raw Fluorescent Flux.
Magazines: Fixed an issue causing “Live & Love 8” to cancel out the Very Well Rested bonus from a fourth Lunchbox.
Magazines: The “Astonishingly Awesome Tales 3” bonus has been changed to allows the player to breathe underwater and regain health while swimming.
Mods: Weapons with mods that add fire damage, like the War Glaive with the Flaming Blade mod, now work with the Friendly Fire Perk.
Mods: The Heating Coil mod now correctly states that it deals fire damage.
Mods: Applying Brawler Armor mods to Brotherhood Recon Armor arm pieces now boosts unarmed damage by 7.5% each.
Mods: The Reduced Ammo Weight Legendary effect now correctly reduces explosive ammo weight.
Mods: Adding Pocketed mods to a Boiled Leather Chest Piece no longer incorrectly increases the item’s durability.
Plans: Fixed an issue that caused players to unlearn Plans for Lawn Flamingos and Wooden Desks.
Power Armor: The Targeting HUD mod now only highlights hostile targets.
Power Armor: The Explosive Vents mod has been renamed “Cooling Vents.” Cooling Vents slow Fusion Core drain by 5%.
Weapons: Fixed an issue where certain weapons that shoot multiple projectiles were taking too much condition damage.
Weapons: The Crusader Pistol Reflex sights no longer appear distorted when the Pyro receiver is equipped.
Weapons: The Stabilized Bull Barrel now correctly counts towards mods learned on the .44.
Weapons: Baton that have a paint or skin applied can now be changed back to their default appearance.
Weapons: Changed the Plasma Cutter’s speed description to Medium.
Weapons: Crossbows can now be changed back to their standard frame.
Weapons: Players can now correctly reapply the Wounding mod to a Bone Club after switching it to No Upgrade.

Mutations

Plague Walker: The Plague Walker Mutation's description no longer incorrectly states that it removes Disease durations. This was only a description change, the Mutation's functionality has not been adjusted.

NPCs

Brotherhood: Brotherhood of Steel Hopefuls and Initiates will no longer take damage when nuked.
Brotherhood: NPCs will no longer say hello to the player while they are talking to Russell Dorsey.
Brotherhood: Addressed dialogue issues with NPCs during “Property Rights.”
Putnam Brothers: Now have appropriate dialog if neither were recruited to Fort Atlas when the player revisits them.
Settlers: Fixed the collision on Settlers at East Mountain Lookout Tower.
Scribe Valdez: No longer comments on documents players have already collected during Mother of Invention.
Scribe Valdez: Fixed an issue that prevented Valdez from playing certain voice lines during “Mother of Invention.”
Scribe Valdez: Valdez's clipboard will no longer clip through her while in a downed animation.
Vendors: The Flatwoods Vendor will no longer sometimes appear invisible to players.

Performance and Stability

Client Stability: Fixed multiple crashes that could occur during combat.
Client Stability: Addressed a crash that could occur while scrolling the Notes tab in the Pip-Boy.
Connectivity: Fixed an issue that could cause PC players to receive a “Disconnected due to modified game files” error during normal gameplay and kick them from their current world.
Server Stability: Addressed an issue that could cause a server crash.
Performance: Addressed an issue that could cause the game client to hitch while viewing the Aid tab in the Pip-Boy.
Performance: Addressed an issue that could cause the game client to hitch when sorting the Pip-Boy by spoil.
Performance: Fixed an issue that could result in framerate drops inside Fort Atlas.

Perks

Dodgy: Now has a 2 second cooldown on AP drain. The damage reduction is still active during the AP cooldown. This prevents players’ AP from completely draining when hit by high rate of fire weapons.
Friendly Fire: The health regeneration effects from Friendly Fire no longer stack, but heal faster. This makes it so all weapons heal at the same rate.
Stabilized: Fixed an issue that prevented Stabilized from working correctly while wearing Power Armor.
Super Duper: Fanfare and sound effects no longer incorrectly play when crafting Legendary Items.

Quests and Events

Disarming Discovery: Dagger will no longer attempt to talk to the player if they are in the shed.
Disarming Discovery: Dagger’s Key will now longer reappear on her corpse after logging out and back in if the player has already looted it.
Dogwood Die Off: Fixed an issue where the quest target does not appear correctly on the trunk.
Fasnacht Day: Players will now correctly earn a three-star legendary item upon event completion.
Fasnacht Day: Super Mutant Suiciders will no longer continue to spawn after Fasnacht ends.
Fasnacht Day: Addressed an issue that could cause the Master of Ceremonies to spawn outside of the event area.
Fasnacht Day: The Robotics Expert Perk can no longer be used to Hack the Parade Marcher bots.
Fasnacht Day: Looting Porcelain Steins during the Fasnacht Day event no longer prevents players from picking up additional Porcelain Steins during the next Fasnacht on that same world.
Field Testing: The Putnam parents are now more visible during the intro scene.
Field Testing: Fixed a rare issue that could cause the player to see a blank dialogue box when speaking with Paladin Rahmani.
Forbidden Knowledge: Addressed several issues affecting Forbidden Knowledge and Technical Data, and this quest has been re-enabled.
- Please Note: Technical Data can no longer be dropped, traded, or Sold.
Mother of Invention: The Mysterious Component now remains a quest item after relogging.
Mother of Invention: The bag of dirt in the Ultracite Battery housing will no longer disappear when the player returns to the instance.
Mother of Invention: Addressed an issue that could cause Scribe Valdez to not fight back when attacked by enemies.
Mother of Invention: The Mysterious Component in “Mother of Invention” will now display an inventory message when the player extracts it.
Mother of Invention: Addressed a lore continuity issue in Rahmani and Shin’s dialogue regarding Paladin Taggerdy.
Over and Out: The animation of the transmitter getting destroyed no longer plays prematurely.
Overseer, Overseen: Dialogue and quest will now progress appropriately when returning the security footage to Head Engineer Brass.
The Best Defense: A quest target now correctly points to Paladin Rahmani after being directed to speak with the Brotherhood upstairs.
The Best Defense: Fixed an issue that could cause more enemy waves to spawn than intended during the quest’s final encounter.
Trade Secrets: The quest marker to collect the Pip-Boy Construction kit now consistently points to Vault-Tec University.

Sound

Scoreboard: Entering the Scoreboard quickly no longer causes the sound to disappear.

User Interface

Atomic Shop: Once owned, the Brotherhood of Steel Icon now correctly appears in the Player Icons page in the Atomic Shop.
Fast Travel: Added an error message when trying to fast travel to a C.A.M.P. that the player is too close to.
Map: Fixed an issue where the map could be opened while viewing a terminal.
Map: Fixed a rare issue that could cause item counts in a player’s Vending Machine preview on the Map to mismatch the number of items in that Vending Machine.
Notifications: Fixed an issue where fanfare would sometimes not play after completing a timed challenge.
Perk Coins: Fixed a visual issue that could cause the player’s Perk Coin total to display an incorrect number of Perk Coins after scrapping Perk Cards.
Pip-Boy: Items with long names are no longer cut off in the Pip-Boy.
Quests: Fixed an issue causing the “Forging Trust” objective tracker to remain on the screen after the quest was completed.
Scoreboard: Fallout 1st exclusive rewards are now claimed separately from standard rewards on the Scoreboard.
Social Menu: Improved mouse controls on pop-ups in the social menu.
Teams: The Team UI will no longer flash while repairing items at a workbench.

World

World: Fixed several locations in the world where players could become stuck.
World: Fixed several locations where players could view out of world.

[OT] Two years ago I responded to a prompt “You're a powerful dragon that lived next to a small kingdom. ... As the kingdom fell to invaders, a dying soldier approaches you with the infant princess, begging you to take care of her. Today, the Dragon’s Scion book 1, Dragonflame, is a published novel!

Hello everyone!
To repeat what the title said, (and get the full prompt, since it wouldn’t quite fit), two years ago I responded to this prompt:
[WP] You're a powerful dragon that lived next to a small kingdom. For centuries you ignored humanity and lived alone in a cave, and the humans also avoided you. As the kingdom fell to invaders, a dying soldier approaches you with the infant princess, begging you to take care of her
Well, I took that idea and decided the “invaders” weren’t of the “Across the mountain” kind and instead were the “from another world time,” and thus was born The Dragon’s Scion, a trilogy of books dealing with the the dragon-raised and empowered princess’s war against the alien invaders. Book one, Dragonflame, is out now, with more to follow in the coming months! Read the blurb below!
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Tythel thought growing up under the wings of the last dragon, Karjon the Magnificent, would be the most unusual part of her life. It was only the beginning.
Finally, she’s come of age to begin her transformation into a half dragon. But just as the ritual completes, a steel ship bursts from the clouds, killing the dragon and tearing her world asunder.
The attack leaves Tythel alone and on the run from the alien invaders. The same ones that conquered her world and killed her parents sixteen years ago. The rightful heir to the throne and the last draconic being, Tythel must use every tool at her disposal to survive and teach the aliens a lesson forged in flame.
They should have let sleeping dragons lie.
Dragonflame is an epic science-fantasy adventure.
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FAQ
Audiobook/Print Copy?
Print Copy is coming soon. For audiobook, nothing yet announced, but I’ll update if there is one!
Is this science fiction or fantasy?
Both, but in a different direction. Most science fantasy deals with science fiction tech and space wizards, and while I love me my space wizards, this goes the other way - the technology is powered by magic, the aliens use their own magic that isn’t just Sufficiently Advanced Technology, and the entire story takes place on a single fantasy world that the aliens invaded.
Length?
Dragonflame clocks in at just about 95k words, which makes it about 300 pages in print.
Elves and Dwarves?
Not exactly. There are the Sylvani and the Underfolk. Sylvani are woods-dwelling people, but they also have the ability to alter their skin appearance and texture and have mysterious origins, and the Underfolk don’t appear in book 1 but will in book 2, and they share “lives underground” with dwarves but take it in a vastly different direction.
I read this on your subreddit, what’s different?
In addition to a completely new introduction/prologue, I’ve applied many of the lessons I’ve learned writing Dragon’s Scion and other books over the last two years, and the prose is cleaner and better fleshed out, as well as some minor changes to fix early installment weirdness.
Age range?
The Dragon’s Scion deals with mature themes and has some racy jokes, but also has no real-world swears, no sex, and injuries are not described in overly-graphic detail. It’s PG-13 in movie land, and acceptable for ages 14+.
Sequels?
This book is part of a trilogy, and I'm looking to have book 2 - Ghostflame - out in mid Feb, early march.
Purge the xeno!
Not a question and not quite the right tone, but I like the enthusiasm. You can pick it up here!
Amazon US Link - UK | CA | AU | DE | MX | JP | IN | BR | FR | ES | IT | NL
I want to sample before I pick up?
Well, good news for you - Check out the first two chapters below!

Prologue

On the path between a dying city and a mountain, a dying guardsman rode with a precious bundle in his arms. This was not the first horse the guardsman had ridden since leaving the city. The others had perished on the journey. He hadn’t even purchased this horse. Having long ago discarded his tabard and armor, this guardsman wore thick furs to keep out the bitter cold. Between that and the wild look in his eyes, he looked less like a guardsman and more like a bandit. It was fitting, in a way, that the third and final horse he rode was stolen.
His name was Comber, and he had been part of the troop assigned to protect the royal family against all threats. For ten years he had stood his post, alongside the royal family’s Umbrists. Comber didn’t have the Shadow-infused powers of the Umbrist. He had armor that had been forged with steel mixed with light, and a sword that had been blessed millennia ago with a dragon’s breath.
That was in the past.
He had a vow to protect the royal family against any and all threats. He’d fought when the minions of a necromancer had snuck in through the sewers. He still had a scar on his thigh from an assassin’s crossbow bolt meant for the King. He was not a coward, and he had thought himself beyond fear.
That was also in the past.
Comber looked over his shoulder. His pursuers weren’t there. He was alone here. There was nothing but a path through the woods, a path that had been cleared by game hunters who would head this way. It took a bold man to hunt in these woods, given what guarded them. The same being that drew Comber deeper within. His last hope for salvation.
The skies darkened, and Comber risked a glance upwards. There it was. That hole in the sky. The sun had passed behind it, casting a momentary shadow across the world. It was like the eclipse Comber remembered from when he was a child, but there was still light coming from the center. Small points showing stars unlike any he had seen before.
A few tiny dots broke off from the main circle. Comber shuddered at the sight. He’d seen what those dots could do when they got lower.
The bundle in his arms stirred when he shivered again, and looked up at him with bright green eyes. Awake now, the child’s face was placid for just a moment, those beautiful eyes flickering about. Then hunger set in, and the child started to wail.
“Shhh, little one,” Comber whispered, stroking the side of the child’s face. “Shhh.”
Still the child cried. She was just old enough to eat mashed food. Comber grimaced and looked around again. There was no one present. “Shhh,” Comber said, pulling on the reins of the horse. He reached into his pack. He still had some berries from the last town, and got to work mashing them into a paste with a mortar and pestle. At her age, the child had just enough understanding of what that smell and sound meant, and her cries turned to excited cooing as she reached towards his hands. “Almost there, little one,” Comber said. Or at least, he started to say. Halfway through the wound in his side reminded him of why he’d abandoned his sword, and Comber hissed in pain. Even the simple motion of grinding berries was too much for him.
He set the mortar down carefully. He hadn’t been able to get a spoon in his mad flight. The child was able to suckle the paste off his finger, and that would have to be good enough. Once she’d been fed, Comber held her with one hand and pulled the other inside his coat. He ran his fingers over the hasty bandage. It was damp. He wanted to look at the injury, but didn’t dare. He knew what he’d find. Black veins sprawling outwards from under the bandage, creeping along his skin. Last night, the veins had been halfway to his chest. Soon they would reach his heart.
He’d die then. Comber didn’t need to be a Physician to know that.
The child reached up and grabbed for his nose with hands wrapped in mittens. Comber let her grab it, then pressed his forehead to hers. “Soon, you’ll be safe,” Comber whispered to her.
Then it was time to transition the child to the straps wrapped around his chest, freeing his hands, and Comber resumed his ride to the mountain.
***
The horse - Comber had never bothered giving it a name - came to a stop, and the jolt rocked Comber awake. He blinked around blearily. He’d fallen asleep in the saddle somehow. Everything felt like it had been coated in a layer of wool. Comber worked one of his hands free of the glove and pressed it against his forehead. In spite of the cold, heat radiated from the touch. “Fever,” he muttered to the child.
“Bah-bah-bah-bah,” she said, which Comber took as affirmation. He smiled down at her, then looked around again. They’d reached the mountain.
“We go no further together,” he said to the horse. Comber had never been one to speak to his mounts, aside from commands. He preferred to make noises at them, reassuring ones. But in the grip of fever, Comber felt irrationally sorry for abandoning an animal he’d only had for a day. A stolen one, at that. “You’ll be able to find your way back to town, won’t you? Or maybe you’ll be able to run free now, without the need...the need…” Comber trailed off. What had he been doing? Talking to a horse, that’s what.
They were close to the base of the mountain, but not quite there. He could see it. Perhaps he could ride the horse a little bit further? He dug his heels in. The horse let out a huff of air and shook its head, instead backing up a few paces. “Of course,” Comber said, shaking his head. “Of course. A horse. A horse of course.” He laughed a bit. It wasn’t funny, but the child joined in the laughter. He patted the side of the horse’s neck again. “You smell it, don’t you?”
The horse shook its head violently and took another step back. That was all the confirmation Comber needed. The horse would go no further. “You know,” Comber said, getting ready to dismount. “I should have known. They eat you, don’t they?”
The horse did not respond this time, for it was a horse, and all it cared about was that it didn’t need to go any further.
Comber got one foot out of the stirrup, but the world started to spin. Instead of dismounting gracefully, Comber swung drunkenly, and collapsed into the snow. He had just enough presence of mind to turn around as he fell, landing on his back to keep the child safe. Comber growled in pain as the impact lanced through his back. The shock did wonders for clearing his head. The child, jostled by the fall, poked her head up and giggled.
“That’s right,” Comber grunted. “I’m silly, aren’t I?”
The child reached up for him, grasping for him. Comber put his finger out for her to hold onto.
He’d abandoned his station, and he knew he should feel guilty about that, but…the beings that had come from that hole in the sky were beyond anything that could be fought. Arrows bounced off their gleaming carapace. Swords were deflected with swipes from their unnatural hands. He had a duty, and he could only save one person.
He’d chosen her.
Comber rose to his feet and turned the horse around. It only took a nudge to get the horse trotting away from the mountain.
It would live. The child would live. That would have to be enough.
Comber made himself walk towards the mountain. Every footstep was like lead. He spotted a trail in the snow - someone else had come this way and left. They were human, or at least walked like one. It could be an Underfolk or Sylvani. It wasn’t the invaders. That much was certain. No one could mistake their skittering legs for human footsteps.
The mountain, at least, was free of snow. Impossibly free, and impossibly warm. A fire burned in the heart of this mountain. Not the molten fire of a volcano. A living flame. A hungering flame.
Had the fever started sooner than Comber realized? He’d been so certain of this plan. He’d heard tales of the flame that lived in this mountain. The tales had made it out to be one of the ones that did not feast on the flesh of Man or the other Intelligent Races. They said it had stood alongside the forces of the Light and Shadow against dread powers in the past. They said it was not to be disturbed, but would not slay - except for those that came to attack it.
But still...could he trust it?
It was too late now. There was nowhere else he was certain would be safe for the child. Not with that locket, secured carefully in a pouch in the swaddling. Even without it...would anywhere be safe from the invaders? Would anything? They hadn’t been killing innocents. They’d killed armies, they’d slaughtered guards, but any who did not pick up blade or spear against them was spared their wrath. Yet...Comber didn’t trust them to stop there. It was possible - nay, it seemed likely - that they were just starting with those that posed a threat to them.
“Not that we did,” he said to the child, who paused in her attempts to gum his finger to look up at him. “I hope, if you remember nothing else, you remember that we tried. We tried.”
“Burrrbl,” the child said happily.
“We tried,” Comber repeated. And they had. Nicandros, the captain of the royal guard, had commanded them perfectly. However, no strategy could overcome the fact that their weapons did no harm to the invaders. That was when Comber realized the only option was saving what he could. That there would be no victory here. Still, Comber had fought, until his wound. Then...he’d been even more useless in battle.
Time became unstable. Comber kept walking up the warm mountain and its bare stones. It was a gentle slope, which was the only reason he could progress at all. Ahead, he saw his goal.
A hole, high up the mountain. One far larger than would be needed for a man to pass through, and one too smooth and round to be the result of nature. This was not a cave. It was a lair.
Comber stumbled and dropped to his knees. The child started to wail again, startled by the jostling. Comber tried to shush its cries, but he was too late. Something was stirring in the lair, dragging itself forth from the depths. Comber saw golden eyes peering out of the darkness, followed by red scales and immense, bat-like wings.
Comber had never seen a dragon in person. Only flying overhead, and even then, such sights were rare. He’d expected them to crawl across a ground, like a lizard, but this one slunk with a cat’s grace. An older cat, one that was past its prime hunting days, but still possessing enough energy to move about. The dragon flapped its wings and took to the air, circling around Comber once before landing.
“I told Lathariel I would not be disturbed,” the dragon growled, and Comber was certain he’d made a mistake. Tears started to form in his eyes, unbidden.
“Please…” Comber said, but the dragon shook its head.
“I will not fight.” The dragon looked up, seeing the hole in the sky, and its nostrils flared. For a moment, Comber could see it considering...then it shook its head again. “I will not fight,” it repeated. “Leave this threat for younger drakes. Ones that have hotter flames.”
“Please…” Comber said again, then coughed. Flecks of something black came with the cough, and Comber moved with speed he didn’t know he still had, pulling the child free of the path of whatever those were. He groaned in pain and nearly blacked out.
“You are injured,” the dragon said, leaning down. “And you are ill.”
Comber nodded.
“I can heal your injuries,” the dragon said, after considering for a moment. “But my flames will make the disease spread quicker.”
“Not...me.” Comber coughed again. “Her.”
The dragon looked at the child. “She’s uninjured,” he said.
“Care...protect.” Comber’s vision grew dark. “She...she...is.” Comber’s vision narrowed. “She is...everything....” The dragon was barely visible now. The world was barely visible. The child stirred, looking from the dragon to Comber and back again, starting to make distressed noises. She didn’t fear the dragon. That was good. But she could tell something was wrong.
“I’m sorry,” Comber said to the child. He looked back up at the dragon. His vision was barely there anymore. He’d gone so far. It felt like part of his mind had been set on fire, to hold back death, and now that he was here, that flame had gone out. “Tell her…” Comber said, and then he started to cough again. “She is…”
“What should I tell her she is?” the dragon asked, after Comber had been silent for too long. When he got no response, the dragon Karjon leaned down. The man’s heartbeat had been so faint when he’d approached, Karjon could barely hear it. Now, though? Now there was nothing.
And the child started to cry.
Karjon looked at it. He’d never dealt with human children before. He knew they needed more comfort than hatchlings. Uncertain, Karjon reached out with one claw and retracted his talon, then brushed his scales on the child’s cheek.
Quick as a viper, the child grabbed Karjon’s finger tightly, trying to seek some comfort in a world that had abandoned her.
Karjon sighed. He had not had children of his own. He hadn’t planned on doing so. But...if nothing else, he could not leave this child to starve on his mountain. He carefully bit on the swaddling, making certain to only let his fangs touch the fabric.
Once these invaders had been dealt with, Karjon would take the child to the nearest humans. They would know how to handle her. He’d keep her safe until then. It shouldn’t be long. There had been many threats over his nine hundred years of life. They’d always been defeated.
There was no reason to believe this would be any different.

Chapter 1

“I have lived for centuries,” Karjon growled. “I dueled the Necromancer Gix and his army of undead. I was on the Council of Twelve, battling the Lichborne. When the mad Lumcaster sought to blind the world, I doused him in my flames. How is it that nothing has vexed me as much as you, little one?”
Tythel looked up at the dragon with eyes wide in feigned innocence. Sixteen years had passed since the mountain and the snow. She didn’t remember it, of course. Just as she did not remember what her name had been before coming here. Tythel was a dragon’s name, not a human name. For all Karjon’s bluster, she was not worried. In sixteen years, Karjon had never raised a claw in anger. “Father, have you considered that it is just because you love me so dearly?”
Karjon huffed and shook his head. “That cannot be it. I think it must be because I did not know how vexing your unique subspecies of humans can be.”
“Subspecies?” Tythel asked.
“Yes. Those strange beings humans call ‘adolescents.’ Or perhaps it is just a trait unique to daughters.”
Tythel beamed at him. The expression only came through with her eyes. In her books, humans would use their mouths to do things like smile and frown. Tythel understood, in theory, what those were, but the expressions didn’t come to her naturally. From what Karjon had said, she’d smiled and frowned at first...but with time, those had stopped. Now, she blinked rapidly to show her excitement. “Which would only matter because you love me. Therefore, I am still correct. And, since I am correct, I see no reason I should not be allowed to go.”
Karjon sighed heavily. “Tythel…”
“You said I could,” Tythel reminded him, trying her best not to sound sullen.
“I told you that, yes,” Karjon said. “I said you could go when it was safe.”
“I want to see other humans,” Tythel said. “Why can’t I go?”
Karjon sighed again, a sound that filled the entire cave that was his lair and their home. “When, exactly, did ‘because I said so’ become insufficient?”
“When I stopped being a child,” Tythel said. “You said when I was sixteen, I could go and see other humans.”
“I said that you could go into the village when you were sixteen, Tythel. I did not say you could do so the very next day.” Making that promise, back when she was nine, had been a mistake. He’d done it to get her to cease her incessant questions. He didn’t think humans of that age could remember things for so long.
“You’re splitting scales and you know it.” She folded her arms across her chest and glowered at him.
Karjon, who weighed in at just over six tons and had battled some of the greatest foes the world had ever seen, broke the staring contest first. Tythel tried not to blink when she realized that meant she was getting through to him. For all his fury and might, Karjon had always struggled to deny her anything. Still, he was not caving like he usually did. “Tythel, there are reasons for the choices I make. They are for your safety.”
“You always hide behind that, father. Are you planning on keeping me here the rest of my life? What are you hiding me from?”
“There are those out there that would see you dead. Is that not enough explanation?”
She glowered at him again. “You know I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me. But if you want me to leave it alone, you’ll need to give me more than that.” Her expression softened. “Please, father.”
Karjon settled down onto the pile of coins that made his seat. Tythel took the cue and walked over to her own, smaller pile. She didn’t have a hoard of her own. Not yet. But she would one day, although she was less than eager for that day. Dragons did not share a hoard. She’d have to leave that day, never to live here again.
“Perhaps…” Karjon started to say, then held up a claw to forestall her before she got too excited. “It is time you know of the dangers beyond this lair. Why I keep you hidden here. And tomorrow…” he studied her critically for a moment, then nodded. “You are old enough.”
“To go visit?” Tythel asked hopefully.
“Not yet,” Karjon said, shaking his head. “But tomorrow, I think you are ready for the one thing I know you want more than to leave.”
Tythel sat up straighter, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You mean...you’ll finish the adoption?”
Karjon nodded, and Tythel leapt up to run over and wrap her arms around her father’s neck. “Thank you thank you thank you!” There were tears forming in her eyes, a human reaction she hadn’t shed with age, but these were tears of joy and not sadness.
“It’s past time,” Karjon said. “I just worried about how your body would react to the transformation.”
“I know,” Tythel said, although deep in her heart, she’d worried that he wouldn’t do it. That she wasn’t good enough. She’d never told Karjon that. If it wasn’t true, it would have broken his heart. If it was true...she couldn’t have handled that. Now, though, she was practically vibrating with anticipation.
Karjon put one of his claws around her, in his version of a hug. From what he’d said, dragons did not engage in touch the way humans did, but one of his books had told him a lack of touch and affection could kill human infants. Deep down, Tythel suspected he had grown to like it himself. “Now. Will you listen, and will you wait?”
Tythel nodded firmly.
“Then do so,” Karjon said, and Tythel settled back onto her coins. “Sixteen years ago, just days before you were brought to me...the skies let loose monsters.”
“Monsters?” Tythel asked.
Karjon nodded. “I do not know if they have a name. I know what Lathariel told me they were being called ‘Those From Above.’ They had weapons that sucked in light and spewed forth their own unnatural energy. Unlight, she called it.”
“And you fought them?” Tythel asked, excitedly.
Karjon shook his head, and in his eyes Tythel could see sorrow she’d never imagined from her father. “I am old,” Karjon said. “I thought they could be defeated without me. Even when I was told dragonflame was all that would harm them...I still thought they could be defeated. There were other dragons. By the time I realized...it was too late. Those From Above had secured power over humanity. They rule down there now. As far as I know, they only fear dragonflame.”
Tythel held up a hand and focused. A ball of flame formed between her fingers. “They fear this?” she asked. Dragonflame was similar to normal fire, but more vibrant. The transition from white to yellow to orange to red that happened in a normal flame was marked by clearer lines. Hers was weak. Not close to the true power of a dragon. She could barely call upon it, and couldn’t even touch the greater fires of ghostflame or heartflame. But it was not nothing.
“Yes,” Karjon said, and there was a somber note to his voice that Tythel couldn’t ignore. “By healing you when you injured yourself...you already formed the gift. They will hunt you. For that and...for other reasons.”
“What other reasons?”
Karjon shook his head. “Not yet. There is much I have kept from you. You are old enough now, but...before that there’s something you need to understand.” He put one claw carefully on her knee. “Tythel...tomorrow, after the Ascension, the number of dragons in the world will go from one to two.”
Tythel stared at her father for a long moment, processing his words. She’d never met another dragon, but the idea there had been other dragons out there...she’d just assumed it. Realizing they’d been hunted down, there was only one thing to do.
She hugged Karjon again, and her father hugged her back. They sat there for a moment, before both of them could steady themselves enough to speak. “Tythel,” Karjon said. “I…have kept something else from you.”
“It’s so much,” Tythel whispered.
Karjon cocked his head. “Do you need time before the rest?”
Tythel considered for a moment, then shook her head. “A scholar’s first duty is to acquire all information before passing judgement,” Tythel said, repeating one of her father’s lessons back to him.
Karjon gave her a slow blink of amusement. “You listen too well sometimes. Very well. Your locket.”
Tythel’s hands went up to the chain around her neck. She’d worn it as long as she could remember. It was the one piece of her own hoard she had. “You said it was my parents.”
Karjon nodded. “That locket is the other reason you will be hunted. It is the locket of the royal family.”
There was a moment of silence as Tythel stared at her father. “The…the royal family. But they…I mean…that’s…” Tythel sputtered off into silence. She couldn’t say it. “I’m…”
Karjon nodded, the motion oddly gentle. “You are the heir to the throne of your family. The throne of the kingdom of Dretayne. You are the next queen of this realm. And for that, you will be hunted as one of the barriers to the rule of Those from Above.”
Tythel took a deep, ragged breath, then nodded slowly. She couldn’t think about it right now. She could barely understand it. So she fell back on the lessons of her childhood. A scholar's first duty. “Tell me everything.”
***
Tythel did not sleep well that night. She tried to, doing every meditation technique Karjon had taught her over the years, but she spent the entire night tossing and turning. The bed she slept on was one Karjon had gotten as a trophy from the Underfolk, those strange underground folk that were in Karjon’s stories, and it had been perfect for her when she was a child. But for the last two years, she’d been forced to scrunch up on it, leading to the impression the Underfolk were likely quite small.
In truth, Tythel was taller than most humans. Sixteen years of eating a diet of meat cooked in dragonflame and lifting and moving gold on a regular basis had left her with a build that was less princess and more warrior, but since the only humans she’d seen had been in her imagination, she’d had no idea how imposing a figure she could cut when she wasn’t comparing herself to a dragon.
She’d never complained to Karjon about the small bed. Other things, sure, but never that – or any of the other things he’d provided to her over the years. Tythel had known how lucky she’d been to have a dragon for a father. Karjon’s stories were full of tales of the legendary heroes of the past, Calcon the Brave and Rilan the Just and Brigith the Nobel and all the rest of them. All of them had started their lives as humble folk that had heeded the Call, which meant their lives had been the humdrum work of farmers and blacksmiths and other folk, and the stories all made that life out to be terribly dull.
She’d always imagined Karjon had rescued her from that sort of suffering.
Now she knew differently. She would have been a princess, daughter to a king and queen, living a life of luxury and wealth and, if the legends were any indication, would have either ended up spoiled rotten or kidnapped by someone to later be rescued. Other than that her life would have been one of formality and circumstance until she was married off to secure an alliance or to whoever had been strong enough to save her, regardless of their other qualities.
Tythel decided that, small bed aside, she still felt lucky to have been raised by Karjon. That feeling was quickly followed by shame at even considering an alternative.
She got out of bed and pulled her blankets and pillows to the floor, arranging them in a pile like the gold Karjon slept on. It wasn’t as comfortable as the bed, but it did allow her to stretch out, and that was preferable to being cramped into the bed at the moment.
The problem was, it wasn’t the bed keeping her up tonight. It was her mind.
Tythel had been on top of the mountain a few times every year, under Karjon’s careful eye. He had explained that if she didn’t get to see the sky every now and then, she’d probably go mad. The village had always fascinated her, and her entire life she’d wanted to go there, just for a day, to explore and celebrate. She wanted to see horses and soldiers and blacksmiths and maybe even a lumcaster if she was really lucky. Karjon had taught her some magic, the barest flicker of dragonflame, but it was not magic meant for humans.
Of course, that would change tomorrow. Well, her being human – she didn’t know if she’d gain any proficiency with her meager powers in the process. She’d have Karjon’s power running through her veins, becoming half dragon and half human. For most of her life, it had been the one thing she’d wanted more than going to the village.
The village. She turned over again.
From the mountain, it had been hard to make out details. She’d filled in those details in her head with ones stolen from her stories – thatched roofs covering star-crossed lovers, barns harboring hard working folk with wisdom gained from years of honest toil, scholars in cramped quarters trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe, chimneys smoking with fires that were roasting chickens or beef. Never in her life had she imagined the people out there were being subjected to tyrants that had more power than she could imagine. Never, not once, had she imagined that she was their ruler by a mere quirk of birth.
That thought got her turning again. Karjon’s stories had talked about something called “noblesse oblige,” the responsibilities that the nobility had to their people. Protect them, help them, guide them, and care for them. If she was a noble – a royal – didn’t the same thing apply to her?
Stop it, Tythel. Stop it.
But the thought wouldn’t go away. If she stayed here with Karjon, she was failing in her responsibility. The sixteen years leading up to this had not been her fault; she hadn’t known she had duties. After a moment of reflection, she decided they weren’t Karjon’s fault either. They were the fault of the mysterious Those from Above. Now that she knew, however…well, Karjon had always taught her that inaction was still a choice, the choice to do nothing.
Tomorrow, then, after the Ritual. She’d leave, no matter what. And if Karjon tried to stop her…well, then she’d have to do it alone.
And that thought, more than any other, caused Tythel to burrow as deeply as she could into the blankets before sleep finally claimed her.
---
Want to know what happens next? Check it out - Amazon US Link - UK | CA | AU | DE | MX | JP | IN | BR | FR | ES | IT | NL
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Sexy Space Babes: Chapter Twenty One

AN: I'm back from my seven day ban (Which was entirely justified).
To those that don't know, after I posted the story up on Amazon, I was informed that Kindle Unlimited requires that the story be posted nowhere else. I had assumed that applied only to selling via other publishers, not the free novel.
That was not the case. Hence my rapidly pulling down the story from everywhere in a panic, lest I get my amazon account banned, and my dream of authorhood killed in the cradle.
That was not why I recieved a ban from HFY for seven days. I recieved the ban, because as I pulled the story, I left the Amazon link up. That was a violation of rule seven of the subreddit, which says that any link must be accompanied by 350 words of OC content. A rule I broke nineteen times in ten minutes.
Either way, that is behind us now, and I've put my time to good use setting up a patreon and building up a backlog of chapters.
So without further ado, here's book two, which will be posted up until such time that the book is published, at which point it will be pulled like book one to conform with Amazon, and we will start again with book three.
I'm also sitting at number ten on Space Fleet Sci-Fi right now on the top one hundred list, so I just wanted to thank everyone that bought a copy or left a review.
You guys rock!

“Alright ladies, shut up and sit down,” Tisi called over the hubbub of conversation.
To be honest, it was kind of ridiculous that she needed to ask at all, given that she was the captain, and thus the crew should have been jumping up to salute her with obedient silence the moment she entered the ship’s small cafeteria/lounge area. Unfortunately for her, captaining a tiny picket ship like the Whisker didn’t carry that kind of prestige.
More to the point, it was difficult to maintain any kind of professional distance when you were in tight confines with the same group of seven people for weeks at a time.
Fortunately, the group of layabouts she was saddled with were still obedient enough. While they weren’t quite as prompt as she might have liked, the conversation did fall away, allowing her to speak.
“Glider, Rocket, you hearing me up there?” She asked.
“Loud and clear, captain.” The ship’s intercom squawked overhead.
“Good,” she nodded.
Between those two on the bridge and the five before her, the entire crew was present.
“As I’m sure you’ve all already heard, we’ll be getting a replacement for Batna when we next pull into port.”
All around her she saw people nod, though the one who did so most vigorously was Kernathu. Which wasn’t all that surprising given that the poor girl had been running double duty to compensate for the missing member of their complement. To be honest, it was kind of ridiculous that the Whisker had launched at all without a full crew, but then again, she supposed that was just a natural consequence of being posted to Gurathu. It was about as backwater a posting as one could get without literally manning a weather station on an ocean world.
“Please tell me it’s not another Rakiri,” Someone groused from the back. “It’s already bad enough that I’m picking Yaro’s hair out of the drain every other night.”
To her left, the crew’s sole Rakiri crewmate just chuffed in amusement, the furry bipedal woman more amused than offended by the insinuation.
“Forget a Rakiri, I’d kill for another Halkem,” Scales muttered, the aristocratic grey skinned woman running a hand over the eponymous black scales that ran run up and down her forearms. “A lower caste of course. It’s been forever since my scales received a proper buffing.”
“I offered to help,” her fellow marine offered.
Scales gave the muscular Shil’vati sitting next to her a cool-eyed glance. “Yes, and you nearly de-scaled me in the process.”
Assisse just shrugged, as if to say ‘at least I tried’. Tisi coughed, before Scales could respond and allow the crew’s odd couple to get into yet another argument.
“Well, before I have to listen to anymore suggestions as to what you do and don’t want in the latest member of our security contingent, how about I just tell you?”
The crew fell dutifully silent.
Sighing, Tisi continued. “They won’t be a Rakiri, Halkem or even a Shil’vati. We’re getting a Human.”
She’d been expecting it, but it was still kind of surprising how still everyone went. You could have heard a pin drop in the ensuing silence. Even Cerilla looked a little interested. Then the questions came all at once. Tisi didn’t even try to decipher the deluge of blurted words from about half the crew. Instead, she slammed a fist onto a nearby table.
“Quiet,” she hissed, silencing them all instantly as she scowled.
Sighing, she collected herself. As her eyes roamed over the room, she noted with some contentment that most of the crew looked at least a little sheepish about their outburst.
As they should, she thought.
For all that their circumstances allowed for a little laxity in military protocol, this was still a military ship and she was still the captain. They were all well-behaved enough on-planet, but sometimes when they were out in space all of them needed a reminder of what she represented.
She was the captain. Her word was law, and all of them were expected to give her rank the respect it deserved. Content to let the matter lie now that they’d all been reminded of that fact, she continued.
“Yes, they are male.” She answered, figuring it was best to get it over with.
It was fortunate for her that she’d just reminded them all to behave with some decorum, because she had a feeling that if she hadn’t, she’d be listening to them all whooping and jeering right now. Kernathu in particular looked about to explode from joy, and even Cerilla looked interested despite her self-proclaimed disinterest in men.
Of course, there’s disinterest and then there’s disinterest, Tisi thought.
Lots of girls liked to get into relationships devoid of males, but few enough would pass up an opportunity to ‘try one’ if it came up. It was a rare one that abstained entirely.
Of course, from every indication she’d seen, Tisi was pretty sure that Cerilla was one of those rare women. Her gut instinct was that the chief medical officer’s current interest was entirely professional rather than romantic or sexual.
The same could not be said for the rest of her crew however.
“Alright, all of you get your heads out of the gutters,” the captain instructed, before the – thus far – silent excitement could reach a fever pitch.
Not that she could particularly blame them. Even out on a backwater like Gurathu, where weeks could pass between messenger ship circuits, they’d all heard about the Imperium’s latest acquisition.
Tisi was pretty sure that half of it was Turox shit, but then again, even if only a fraction of what she’d heard about the humans was true… well, she could understand what all the hype was about.
Not that she intended to do anything about it when their newest crewmate arrived. She knew some captains liked to play that part of the noble in the parlor, but Tisi was better than that. Her only relationship with the newcomer would be professional.
…well, unless he offered. She had standards, but she wasn’t dead after all.
Snapping her mind away from that line of thought, she fixed the motley crew in front of her with a stern eye.
“Now I don’t need to remind you – but I will anyway,” she began. “We’re an Imperial Naval Vessel. That means you are expected to treat our newest crewmate the same way you treat anyone else.”
She’d gotten a very sternly worded memo with pretty much those exact same words in addition to her newest crewmate’s dossier.
“The last thing the navy wants is another scandal like the Iron Tooth,” she said, which served to put a significant damper on the party-like atmosphere that had been developing.
Which it should. The Iron Tooth incident had been a black mark on the reputation of the navy as a whole, and while those women were now all in military prison, the effect of the scandal on male recruitment rates was still being felt two years later. Still, at least it had brought a number of new rules and regulations into being for active-duty ships.
She knew some members of the military chafed under them, but to her thinking they were just good sense.
“We aren’t a band of Periphery pirates,” Tisi said, echoing her own thoughts. “We’re here to do a job, not just indulge our own whims.”
The crew as a whole nodded, even Assisse, prompting Tisi to smile with pride. Her crew might not have been the most disciplined bunch in this part of the galaxy, but when push came to shove, they were all good people.
-----------------------
Shil’vati, as a race, were predisposed to high temperature conditions. Many of their earliest civilizations had cropped up around the tropical climates of Shil’s equator.
Unfortunately for Assisse, Gurathu was anything but warm.
It was a frigid ice ball of a world, filled with mountains so large it made the ones back home look like a kid’s sandcastle by comparison. Sure, the main-colony had been set up in a valley between two of those mountains, keeping it more or less sheltered from the frigid winds of world, but that didn’t make the freezing temperature any less oppressive to her senses as she and the Captain stepped out of their car and onto the busy streets just outside the space port.
“Ma’am, why am I here?” Asisse asked, as she locked the vehicle and the two started making their way toward the nearby building. A task made marginally harder by the crowds of furry Rakiri colonists that made up an overwhelming majority of Gurathu’s population.
Just last week the space port had been a ghost town. Today that wasn’t the case though. With a large cargo ship coming in, the place had filled up with natives hoping to load up or receive things.
“Upset that I’m taking you away from your away time with Scales, sergeant?” the Captain teased as they strode past two brown coated furry aliens arguing loudly with a tired looking Shil’vati customs officer.
If they were still in space Assisse would have rolled her eyes at her superior’s comment. They were on-planet though, so she refrained, keeping her features studiously neutral. That was part of the strange dichotomy the crew of the Whisker shared.
It was an old joke anyway. For all that the crew liked to joke that the pair of them bickered like two rival wives in a marriage unit, they weren’t together. They were just friends. Which ironically was less than a lot of girls in the services were.
While the reputation for girls ‘enjoying each other’s company’ while out on deployment was a pretty gross exaggeration, it was a stereotype that held some truth. Assisse and Scales had never done anything of the sort though. They were just friends who liked to bicker.
“Not at all, ma’am,” Assisse drawled dutifully.
Tisi hummed thoughtfully as they flashed their credentials at the Shil’vati militia guarding the terminal entrance to the new arrival.
“I assumed that as the leader of our little Marine contingent, you’d be interested in seeing our newest arrival first hand.”
Assisse shrugged. She wasn’t too bothered to be honest. Whether she saw him today or a week from now, when the Whisker set off for patrol again, didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like she could send him back if she didn’t like him for whatever reason. Ignoring the fact that she was pretty sure the crew would mutiny if they didn’t get the human, it would be weeks before the next message ship came through, and they would be out on patrol before that happened.
“Apparently our newest addition is some kind of tactical savant,” the Captain continued, ignorant of her thoughts. “Managed to take on an entire company of Interior elites with just two other recruits during a training exercise.”
“…How?” Assisse asked skeptically. On a purely practical level, she was pretty sure three recruits didn’t have enough ammo to gun down that many of the opposition.
Tisi shrugged. “That, my dossier didn’t say. Probably some kind of guerilla thing. You’ve heard how humans are.”
Assisse nodded warily. Everyone had heard the stories about the latest race to be added to the Imperial fold. Specifically, the fact that they had a fifty/fifty gender ratio and that the males were just as randy as women.
That wasn’t what Tisi was referring to. Earth wasn’t all that dangerous. Ignoring the myriad other advantages the Imperium held over the native population, the fact was that most of the native’s weapons couldn’t penetrate through Shil’vati armor. That made being out on patrol a whole lot less of a daunting prospect.
That didn’t mean it was totally without risk. What the aliens apparently lacked in weapons acumen, they surely made up for in tenacity and creativity. The number of homemade ‘rail-guns’ that had been popping up in recent weeks was proof enough of that.
Crude, sparse and slow to fire as those weapons were, they’d destroyed the assurance of many a patrolwoman that their armor was proof against anything the natives could throw at them.
The place was still considered a pretty sweet posting compared to the likes of the Periphery - practically a vacation, even - but it seemed that with each passing month the number of injuries and casualties amongst the occupation force grew rather than diminished. Which was the opposite of what was supposed to happen.
The numbers were beyond middling to the Imperium, but it was still a worrying trend.
“Here we are,” Tisi said as they passed through another checkpoint and back out onto the recently swept open tarmac of the landing pad.
Personally, Assisse would have preferred to stay in the heated building and watch through the viewing port, but she knew better than to voice that opinion. That they’d be standing outside waiting for the ship to arrive had been a foregone conclusion anyway. As her slightly blue snow-tanned complexion could attest, the captain liked to take every opportunity she could to be out in the open air while they were on planet. It was almost as if she was compensating for all the time they spent in the cramped confines of the ship.
Well, that wasn’t strictly fair. The Whisker was actually pretty spacious for a picket ship, with a fairly large number of amenities for its small size. Of course, all the amenities in the world couldn’t distract from the fact that it was a limited area, and that the crew spent weeks, and occasionally months, stuck there.
So, she supposed she could forgive the captain’s need to stand out in the freezing Gurathu air. Even if Assisse was pretty sure the tips of her ears were beginning to form icicles.
“Anything else I should know, ma’am?” she asked as they peered out into the great blue sky above.
“He’s a boot.”
Assisse glanced at the woman next to her. “I figured as much, ma’am. Being human and all.”
Tisi determinedly kept her eyes on the sky. “No sergeant, I meant basic boot.”
That made the marine pause.
“No vocational, ma’am?” She asked slowly.
“No.”
Now Assisse was fully staring at her superior. “With all due respect ma’am, what the hell?”
Basic training was called that for a reason. It instilled all the basics that any member of the military might need.
That was the key word in that statement: Basics.
Vocational training was where actual skills were developed. Engineers, chefs, medics, hell, even your average riflewoman needed more advanced training to truly be considered competent in their chosen role.
Advanced unit tactics, sweeping and clearing, how to call in orbital support, jump-pack operation…
The list went on and on. All skills that were needed for a team to be able to function correctly during an operation.
Empress, it only got worse on a small picket ship like the Whisker. The ship’s small complement meant most members had multiple roles. Assisse herself was entirely capable of filling in as a medical assistant should it be required, and Scales was an assistant chef.
“I was lead to understand – as was the rest of the crew – that our newest member would be filling in for Bant,” she gritted out, not needing to state that Kernathu would be devastated. The young mechanic was running herself ragged keeping the ship running without aid. The rest of the crew tried to pitch in where they could, but they just didn’t have the skills to be truly useful.
The captain frowned, no doubt thinking the same thing. “I don’t like it much either.” She allowed. “Orders are orders though. Between us, it’s obvious that something funny is going on here.”
Assisse scowled. She knew exactly what that meant.
Politics.
The word felt foul on her tongue. She’d thought having a posting on the ass end of nowhere would get her away from all the politicking of back home. She supposed it just went to show that wherever the Imperium went, politics followed. The nobility were pathologically incapable of keeping their noses out of anything.
The captain being the notable exception of course. She was a fine no-nonsense leader, but even she had her moments where that ingrained aristocratic instinct kicked in.
Though it was unfair, Assise couldn’t help but wonder if this was one of those occasions. If the captain was accepting this human as part of some plot back home.
“It’s not all bad,” the woman continued, completely ignorant to the Sergeant’s thoughts. “Apparently he was going to university on his homeworld. Part of the uplift program to familiarize the humans with our tech so that they can finally start contributing.”
She paused. “He was only part way through the course before he, uh, signed up, but that should give him enough of a foundation to be of use. I’m sure Kernathu will get some use out of him.”
Assisse privately doubted that. Still, it wasn’t her department. Her only concern was how decent he’d be in a firefight. Not that she expected to be in one, but that was neither here nor there. Searching merchant ships for contraband was already tedious enough without worrying if one of her underlings was going to shoot his foot off.
“There it is,” Tisi pointed.
Assisse glanced up, and sure enough there was a blot in the sky above. It started small at first, but as the minutes passed, it only grew in size. Soon enough she could make out individual details. The Grinshaw’s Maw was built in the style of most Shil’vati ships. Which was to say that it was essentially a brick with a set of oversize engines strapped to the back.
The cargo ship was even uglier than most. Where most warships would have at least had a sleek array of laser pods running across the ship, this one had but one, mounted to the front. Instead of holding weapons, the sides of the ship bulged out awkwardly to make room for the vessel’s expanded cargo holds.
As she watched it continue to grow as it got closer, she couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. Nothing that big and cumbersome looking should have been able to move through atmosphere. Nor should it have been so quiet while doing so. Nearly twice the size of the massive super-cargo ships that used to ply Shil’s southern oceans, the thing’s engines should have been blazing away in an attempt to just keep the massive construct in the air. Instead, they were all but silent, only occasionally releasing a small puff as the ship corrected its course.
“Anti-gravity tech can be a real mindfuck,” she murmured, ignoring the way the Captain looked away from the ship to send her an amused glance.
Kernathu had tried to explain it to her once, but it had all come out as gibberish to Assisse’s ears. Like, what the fuck was a ‘graviton’ and why was it only sometimes a wave? She had no clue, and she’d long since given up trying to understand.
Finally, the ship touched down with a clunk. Then a second clunk as the anti-grav field turned off and the full weight off the ship dropped onto the landing struts.
The cargo gates opened with a whirring noise, and massive heavy-duty ramps slid down. Almost immediately cargo vehicles and exo’s began striding out to the behemoth, to begin the gargantuan task of unloading its cargo, before reloading it with exports from Gurathu.
“Shall we go see the latest addition to our little ‘family’?” Tisi said, a hint of genuine excitement peeking through her expression.
Assisse once more resisted the urge to roll her eyes. For all that the captain played the role of the no-nonsense officer, sometimes it was easy to see the excitable young woman that lay beneath. As evidenced by the fact that they were boarding the ship, rather than heading back inside to wait in the passenger terminal.
Instead of doing that, Assisse did what all enlisted throughout history did when saddled with an excitable officer. She grunted and grudgingly followed after her superior.

First / Next
Another three chapters are also available on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/bluefishcake
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An old guy hired me to manage his life-sized dollhouse, but some of the occupants are starting to freak me out

The ad was bizarre but straightforward enough.
Late fifties male seeks woman in twenties to manage large-scale dollhouse

Candidate needs to maintain a household of eleven Real Dolls by tending to the daily wardrobe, grooming, and other needs of the dolls.
Nothing inappropriate.
$250 paid in cash at the end of every shift.

A lot of women would be put off by that ad, but not me. Let’s just say, I’ve seen some shit in my life. I was finally starting to dig myself out of a trash pile of childhood trauma by getting into a good college, when the reality of tuition fees set in. I needed a part-time job to stay afloat, and creepy sex doll man would have to be it.
I tried calling the number on the ad, but nobody picked up. A few minutes later I got a text asking my name, age, and times of availability. Another text later, I was asked to start at nine the following day. I was surprised at the ease of the interview, if you could even call it that, but I didn’t feel like questioning it. Whatever the guy’s deal was, that was his business, not mine. As long as he didn’t breach any boundaries and paid me on time, we’d get along just fine.
I wasn’t stupid, though. I called my cousin Ronnie and told him what was going on and where I’d be the next day. Ronnie sighed but didn’t question my decision. We grew up with the same shitty guardians, and he knew I could handle myself.
“Just be careful, Lu,” he said at the end of the call, “pack the bag, okay?”
“Of course, Ronnie,” I smiled into the phone, “I’ll be in touch if anything happens.”
‘The bag’ was a backpack of essentials for any kid that was unfortunate enough to grow up in a neighborhood like mine. My bag contained pepper spray, a swiss army knife, drinking water, a couple of protein bars, and a cheap disposable phone with Ronnie’s number saved in contacts. I hoped for the best but prepared for the worst. Always.
I was at the given address at exactly 9 o’clock the next morning.
The house was breathtaking. A tall, asymmetrical two-story with whitewash walls and a multifaceted roof. The windows were different sizes and shapes, the panes a charming baby blue with glass that sparkled like morning dew on grass. I walked up the cobblestone path, admiring the clean-cut lawn and tulip flower beds that lined the perimeter.
Maybe this won’t be so bad, I thought, climbing the porch steps.
I couldn’t find a doorbell, only a large bronze knocker designed to look like some sort of horned creature, possibly a bull. It was as though the sculptor had chosen to make the beast in man’s image, the result being a grotesque blend of the two. I banged the knocker three times and waited. Nothing happened. I tried again. No one came to the door. I pulled my phone from my back pocket just as it received a message from the Craigslist number.
Go inside. The girls are on the second floor.
Whatever you’re into, buddy, I thought as I pulled the door open and stepped inside.
The entrance hall was everything the exterior suggested. Polished hardwood floors shimmered like glaciers on a sunny day. A needlessly large chandelier descended from somewhere far above my head. Quaint antique hall cupboards and paintings of flower pots tied the look together. It was all meant to be quite lovely but something felt off. The interior seemed almost too precise, as though crafted after the idea of an old Victorian home. The passing of time generally implied a dash of ruggedness, and this place had none.
A large-scale dollhouse, I thought, remembering the ad with a slight shudder.
I clutched at the straps of my backpack, straining to hear any hint of life within the house. There was only the slight echo of my sneakers scraping across the floor as I crossed the hall on my way to the grand staircase.
I lingered before taking the first step. It wasn’t too late to turn around and find something less creepy to do. Sure, the pay was excellent, but my gut was telling me there was something very wrong with the house. Determination and a hint of curiosity argued with my better instincts and won.
I walked up the carpeted steps.
“Hello?” I called upon reaching the second floor. No answer.
To my left, a door stood open, revealing an old-school parlor room. I stalled before entering, realizing that the distant concept of eleven life-sized dolls had been far more agreeable than the actual sight of them.
What can I say? The dolls were exquisite in a vacant, detached sort of way. Someone had dressed them in a variety of colorful nightgowns and bathrobes. Some faced windows, others were seated around a coffee table. All were positioned in poses that were meant to look natural. Their size was that of your basic, petite woman, with some evident variation in the hip and breast departments. There were blondes with blue eyes, sultry brunettes, a redhead, African Americans, Asians, you name it. One even had rainbow-colored hair and blue lips.
“Louisa,” a soft voice interrupted my doll-induced trance.
My right hand instantly went for the pepper spray as I whirled around in one swift, jumpy motion.
“Jesus,” I muttered, slipping the spray back in place, “You scared me, lady.”
The owner of the voice was a tall, thin woman well into her fifties. She wore a long, red cardigan that she buttoned over a lilac turtleneck and a full-length, plaid skirt. The entire outfit was so hideous that I barely even registered the fact that the woman herself was attractive for her age. She had a very dignified sort of face, with a dainty nose and knowledgeable eyes. A good amount of thick, greying hair was tied back in a low ponytail.
“My apologies, Lousia,” the woman smiled politely, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s Lu actually,” I mumbled, trying to compose myself.
“Nice to meet you, Lu,” the woman’s smile held, though her gaze sharpened, “My name is Mrs. Claymore and I am the mistress of Vanderley House.”
“First time I’ve been in a house with a name,” I replied, watching her face. Much like my surroundings, the woman carried herself in a manner of welcome, but it all felt a bit scripted.
“I believe my husband has given you the general gist of your duties here at Vanderley?”
“Well,” I surveyed the kinky mannequins lounging around the room, “The text messages mentioned I would have to watch the dolls.”
“Yes,” she spoke slowly as though addressing a small child, “You will be acting as the part-time manager of the household. In essence, you will be filling my shoes while I’m away.”
“I see,” I nodded, feeling uneasy.
For the next hour or so Mrs. Claymore took me around the house, showing me the different rooms and explaining my increasingly bizarre work tasks. Every morning, I was to change ‘the girls’ into their daytime outfits and carry them around the house, setting them up at their respective activities. I would learn the dolls’ names and activities from a chart. My shift would end around the time the so-called hygienist showed up to perform cleaning procedures on the dolls.
“If all that is clear,” Mrs. Claymore concluded, “I will leave you to your job.”
“Alright,” I nodded, struggling with my apprehensive feelings.
I let out a long breath as soon as Mrs. Claymore retreated downstairs. If ever there was a master at not asking questions, it was me. And yet, I had so many. Everything about Mrs. Claymore indicated that she was an intelligent, proper sort of woman, and I just couldn’t reconcile that image with the things she was saying. Was she unhinged? I half wished the husband had met me instead. A creepy old man with a sex doll fetish, while super gross, was something that I could understand and even turn a blind eye to. For the right amount of money, of course. But this? What the hell was this?
Walking back to the parlor room, I felt my resolve strengthen. Late morning sunshine spilled in through the sheer curtains, illuminating the dolls in a cool, gray light. Not a single speck of dust could be seen in the rays. The dead eyes of the dolls reflected my mood.
I studied the clipboard Mrs. Claymore had given me. It contained the aforementioned doll chart printed on a crisp, expensive-looking sheet of paper. Cynthia was the first doll on the list. With a flicker of dread, I stared at the tiny picture printed on the page. The photograph, while small and a little blurry, was clearly of a real person, not a doll. It showed a pretty redhead somewhere outside, with locks of hair lifted by a gust of wind.
I scanned the room, quickly locating Cynthia in a nearby armchair. The resemblance to the person in the picture was uncanny. I walked up to the doll and stared at her face, reaching out a hand to graze a cheek with my fingers. She was definitely a doll, not a person. Even so, the fact that her image was molded after a human being felt all sorts of wrong. I turned my attention back to the chart:

Cynthia - 21 y.o. - 5′7″/122lbs. - Biochemistry student - Plays violin - 11:00 AM violin lesson in drawing room - 12:30 quiet reading time in study;

What an oddly specific type of girl. Hardly your average boner inducer. Scanning the other five entries on the page disturbed me more than I could say.

Valeria - 20 y.o. - 5′7″ / 107 lbs - Athlete - Ballroom dancer - 11:00 AM dance lesson in drawing room - 12:30 yoga in downstairs hallway;
Gina - 22 y.o. - 5′6″ / 121 lbs - Barista - Cat lover - 11:00 disciplinary session in entrance hall - 12:30 quiet reading time in study;
Katryn - 25 y.o. - 5′5″ / 115 lbs - Nurse - Enjoys video games - 11:00 AM - dance lesson in drawing room - 12:30 yoga in downstairs hallway;
Angelique - 21 y.o. - 5′7″ / 135 lbs - Unemployed - Recreational drug user - 11:00 AM - double disciplinary session;
Madison - 28 y.o. - 5′6″ / 118lbs - Daycare teacher - Enjoys reading - 11:00 AM - dance lesson in drawing room - 12:30 quiet reading time in study;

My hands trembled as I finished reading the last entry on the page. There have been so many times in my life where I have felt helpless and afraid. While horrible, each instance had an identifiable source of danger. A drunken uncle, an abusive social worker, a school bully. It was easy to work through fear when you knew what to expect.
The place had me stumped. There was something very wrong about it, about Mrs. Claymore and her yet-to-be-seen husband. About the dolls that were meant to look like real people. I knew then that I should leave, but there was a part of me that didn’t want to. Call me the collector of evils, but I just had to know what sort of fucked up darkness lurked the serene halls of Vanderley House.
I left the parlor and located the closet, a room on the second floor which was dedicated to all eleven doll wardrobes. I’d caught a glimpse of it during the walkthrough, but didn’t get a chance to take it all in.
It was the size of a bedroom, with shelves of shoes, folded clothes, and hanging garments lining the walls to my left and right. The other end of the room consisted of a mirror wall. I stared at my small frame reflected in four distinct angles. A couple of jet-black curls fell loose from my ponytail and I tucked them behind an ear. I looked very pale, not unlike a doll myself. That thought sent a visible shiver through my reflection.
The shelves of the closet were an obsessive-compulsive dream come to life. Everything was sorted by clothing type and color. The chart hadn’t specified what the dolls should wear, so I trusted my better judgment in picking the outfits. There were few modern garments available, but there was a large variety of basics that would look decent on most people. I pulled some items from the shelves and went to pick out the shoes. Not many options there either, mostly pumps. I was about to head back to the parlor when another glance at the mirrors revealed a detail I had very nearly missed.
Though three of the full-length mirrors were visibly nailed to the wall, the one on the far right had no bolts in the corners of the frame. I tried wedging my fingers in the small crack between mirrors and pulling it, but that yielded nothing. After a second’s thought, I tried pushing instead and the hidden door popped open.
Inside was the first hint of the real Vanderley.
The mirror concealed a small, dusty room. A bare lightbulb dangled from a wire, revealing unfinished concrete walls and stacks of moving boxes. I approached the nearest box and looked inside. It was filled with clothes, but they were nothing like the garments in the outer closet. These were trendy crop tops, boy shorts, cocktail dresses.
A lump formed in my throat.
I opened more, finding high heels, hoodies, sunglasses, watches, trinkets. I had to stop myself then. There were a lot of boxes and I didn’t have time to ransack the place. Mrs. Claymore could find me at any moment, and I needed more proof of my growing suspicions.
I walked out to the front closet, closing the mirror door behind me. I did my best to wipe away the fingerprints that revealed my intrusion. I reached for the phone in my back pocket so I could call Ronnie, and found that it was missing.
Of course, I thought, reaching for the hidden zipper on the inner side of my backpack. I powered on the flip phone and auto dialed Ronnie. He picked up on the first ring.
“Code red,” I whispered into the passé gadget.
“I fucking knew it, Lu,” Ronnie reprimanded, “I’ll be there in forty, an hour tops. Keep safe.”
“Will do,” I promised, replacing the cell before picking up the pile of clothes I’d selected for the dolls.
Mrs. Claymore must have fished my phone out of my back jean pocket at some point during the walkthrough, but why? Was it to snoop on me, mess with me, potentially cause me harm? None of the answers quite fit the bill, but I had a feeling I would learn the truth soon enough.
I made sure to keep calm as I walked back to the parlor room. There was no use for panic, I needed to keep my thoughts clear. I set down the pile of clothes on the coffee table and approached Cynthia. I lifted her arms and pulled her nightgown off. Putting her arms back at her side, I took a step back and surveyed the dolls’ body.
There was no doubt in my mind that Cynthia was molded after a living, breathing young woman. While her body held true to the beauty standards of today, it was not perfect. Her large breasts hung low without the support of a push-up bra and there was a birthmark to the right of her bellybutton. Again, I felt the need to reach out and feel her, to make sure that she wasn’t alive. I placed my hand on her lean stomach. She felt plastic as ever. Room temperature, high-grade silicone, and yet.
There was an energy.
I’d had that feeling before in museums, on school trips where I snuck away from the crowd and stared at some old army general’s chair, or an early telephone set. I thought it was common, getting vibes from items, but Ronnie told me it wasn’t. I didn’t dwell on it much. To me, objects carried stories, just like people did.
So what was Cynthia’s?
I placed my other hand in her palm and an overwhelming sense of sorrow erupted inside me. The force of it made me fall to the floor, laying my head on Cynthia’s knees. I didn’t let go of her, I couldn’t. The doll was telling me her truth. One so awful that my limited imagination could only produce it in dull aches that ran through my body. The grief was insurmountable, and I let it flow through the both of us.
“What did they do to you?” I asked, choking back tears.
There was no reply as the immense darkness receded into heavy but manageable despair. It was then that I noticed the small tattoo on Cynthia’s inner left wrist. It was a black stencil of the bull-man I had seen on the entrance door of the Vanderley House.
I couldn’t waste time. I had to gather as much information as possible before Ronnie showed up.
I got up and started checking all the other dolls. Every one of them had the same tattoo. I picked up the doll chart, now fully convinced it was a list of victims. I needed to learn as much about them in the short amount of time I had left.
Cynthia. Valeria. Gina. Katryn. Angelique. Madison. They were all here. Each headshot contained a girl outside, not a doll. They were REAL, but were they alive?
I felt my breath falter as nausea threatened the scant contents of my breakfast. There were only six girls on this page. The truth hit me like a punch to the face as eleven sets of dead eyes stared at me. The link I always suspected, but couldn’t prove.
Until now.
With shaky hands, I unclipped the piece of paper and flipped it over. There were six more entries on the back, but my eyes instantly went to the last one on the page. Right there, beside a tiny, pixelated photograph of me standing outside Vanderley House that very morning, I read the following:

Louisa - 20 y.o. - 5′4″/115 lbs - ex tenebris lux - ex malo bonum - 11:00 AM - The Hygienist

A door slammed downstairs, and though I wished with all my being that it was Ronnie arriving early to get me out of this mess, the large Roman numeral clock on the wall of the parlor told me that it was far too soon to get my hopes up.
Heavy footfall ascended the stairs in a slow, confident stride. Echoes of the intruder carried through the house and into the parlor. I picked up the pepper spray and rummaged around my backpack for the swiss army knife. I slipped the spray in my back pocket and held the knife on the inside of my palm so it was out of view.
It was time for my appointment with the hygienist.
READ PART 2 HERE
^{This is part 1 |} ^{part 2} ^| ^{part 3} ^| ^{part 4}

NrdRage’s Friday DD: There’s still one meme stock that’s not dead yet. I present to you The Curious Case of Benjamin Butto....err Black Berry. ($BB)

Listen up reta.....err, I mean memelords. I know we’ve all moved on from the meme era into the weed era (and hopefully people stick around that one due to the fundamentals for a while, but if not....) and soon to be a redux of the vehicle era, but there’s one meme stonk we need to have a real, honest heart-to-heart about (and hey, it even ties into cars): Let’s talk about Blackberry ($BB)

First, let’s get some misconceptions out of the way:

Blackberry was never a short squeeze stonk, even though it ended up getting roped in with the other squeezers we were denied squozing because of Wall Street cheating. A lot of people thought it was and that’s simply not the case. Blackberry was, is, and always will be, a phoenix rising from the ashes story, nostalgia peppered with functionality. You know, kind of like how you sometimes go watch some classic porn to beat off to and don’t stop to think about the fact that the actress is now in her 60’s and probably has super saggy tiddies.
Next misconception: It’s not a Boomer mobile phone company. They don’t make phones anymore – phones that are branded with their logos are made by another company that pays licensing for the logo and some of the patents. Blackberry sold all their mobile patents months ago.
Third misconception: No matter how much we ask, they’re never changing their name back to Research in Motion so that we can talk about Rim-jobs. Sorry, just isn’t going to be a thing.
So what are they? It’s simple really: They’re now an enterprise level software security company. When you think about it, it’s not such a big pivot, given that their security encryption in their heyday was so powerful that they ended up having to set up offices in certain nations because it was impossible to crack and ran afoul of certain international laws.

Let’s take a dive into the financials before we get into the story:

At the time of this writing, BB is a 7 billion dollar company with shares trading in the $12.50 range. Even after the meme war collapse, they’re still worth double what they were when the ball dropped in New York City with absolutely nobody watching in person and everybody at home wondering why even Anderson Cooper was using an autotuner. They generate a hair over a quarter billion dollars in revenue each quarter over the last year and in 2020 had a negative EPS of about 32 cents a share as they retooled, though they trimmed that to .23 cents a share for their last quarterly earnings report. They have about a billion dollars in cash on hand and receivables, and they have about half a billion dollars in debt. It’s not a great fiscal outlook there, but it’s certainly manageable for a growth company (which is what they presently are).

Where do they make their money?

Almost half of their revenue is legacy income from selling endpoint management and secure communications licensing. A third of their revenue comes from licensing their patents. Oh, they also own Cylance, for you IT help desk monkeys.
That shit’s pretty boring, not gonna lie. Your wife’s boyfriend might find it interesting, but only because he can use it to laugh at you that you know this shit. But the rest? The rest is where things get interesting. Blackberry Radar is a fleet management solution, and the most interesting thing is....well, for that, we have to go back in time for a moment:

(Wayne’s World flashback/dream noises)….

July 29th, 2017. Las Vegas Nevada. 50,000 of the world’s most feared hackers descend upon Sin City for a weekend of debauchery, drinking, and talking about all the new and interesting ways they found to break shit or in general cause chaos - aka DefCon 25, which was NOT cancelled, contrary to what you might have been told. A young hacker from Wisconsin positively stuns everybody at a panel by revealing how it is that he found he could effectively hack almost every late model vehicle on the road that possessed connected features – from range and while the vehicles are in motion – using.....music theory. It’s an absolutely stunning revelation, something matched only by how terrifying the implications of it are. And all anybody needed was a $300 RF modulation tool. Using this, he found he could take control of every mass produced car on the market except those made by Volkswagen Group and Tesla, and those only because they had randomized frequencies they used. This guy fucked. This process was so dangerous that, for one of the only times in DefCon’s history, they didn’t publish the how-to publicly. Oh, and a team from a then relatively unknown EV company in China called $NIO won the car hacking capture the flag tournament in less dramatic fashion. If you didn't hear about any of this, it's because you were too much of a square to be there. Sucks to be you, chump. Something had to be done.

Enter Blackberry

I’ll spare you all the things that have happened since then, but what you need to know is this: Blackberry came up with a solution to defend against this and a myriad of other problems (not to mention Europoor compliance in the form of ISO 26262) not to mention autonomous security - and their security software suite (QNX) is now on almost every new car rolling off a factory line today. This software is also critical for EV’s, because it controls battery management ECU’s (that’s the shit that makes it so you don’t have to drop 10 grand on a new power plant every 2 years). Or, for those of you with IQ’s of 60: Computer make car gooder.

OK, so that’s cool. But how does this get me TENDIES, man? How much can these guys make?

They’re coy about this and won’t give hard numbers, but there are ways we can estimate what they’re pulling. But to do that, we need to go back in history again, and take a look at a stock nobody cares about

(More Wayne’s World noises)

Enter: Nuance Communications ($NUAN). You’ve probably never heard of these guys, but you and almost everybody you know has used their products at some point. They used to be best known for their Dragon Naturally Speaking software suite, which your grandparents who decided they were too old to figure out how to use a fucking keyboard bought so that they could talk to their computer and send you messages that you hated getting unless it came with a 20 dollar bill, but which they thought you cherished forever. However, at some point around 2010, IBM – whom the Nuance CEO at the time was close friends with the management of, literally just *gave* about 125 patents around voice recognition to Nuance thinking that they were worthless. Nuance took these patents and – for a brief moment – became one of the coolest techs on the planet, because their tech is what made Apple’s Siri, Amazon’s Alexa, Microsoft’s Cortana, Samsung’s whatever it was called and a billion other voice recognition platforms work. That is, until Steve Jobs, Jeff Bezos, Steve Ballmer, and everybody else Nuance was dumb enough to trust to let look under the hood of their secret sauce came along and all stole the IP to made their own platforms, leaving Nuance rotting in a hole in the desert. But one of the really cool things Nuance expanded into before they went full retard was they bought a couple of companies around 2013 or so– Tweddle and some other company I can’t be bothered to look up – and got into the connected car space. At one point, Nuance’s Dragon Drive virtual assistant was in every new car made by 9 of the world’s top 10 auto makers.

OK, dude, my wife’s boyfriend is asking me to bring him a beer. Can you speed this along? What does this matter?

It matters because we can look at what $NUAN was getting in licensing for putting their virtual assistant in these vehicles, and use that data to extrapolate an estimate of what $BB is getting for their software. With just their 9 car makers at their back, they were generating over 300 million dollars a year – and that was almost a decade ago, and just for something that would tell you where to pick up your Down’s Syndrome medication. Add a premium for security, include all the auto makers, carry the one, smoke a bowl to help you concentrate, adjust for inflation.....
This is a market worth about...oh, roughly 750 million dollars a year for Blackberry on the conservative side once they actually start charging a market rate for this product. Right now, they’re adopting the same go-to strategy Microsoft has been employing with Azure, which is to basically GIVE it away in order to gain market share and penetration, and then send Fat Tony to collect once the car maker is reliant on it. Plus all the other stuff we already glossed over because it’s boring as shit. Applying the average multiple of earnings for cybersecurity firms out there, their lack of competition in the space, etc. And you come up with a market cap valuation target of....oh, roughly between 45 and 50 billion dollars once they’re firing on all cylinders. And they don’t have to worry about Google or Apple throwing 10,000 engineers at this to make a competing product, because it’s just not worth it to them, so they’re largely gonna get left alone.
Or, by using maths....a share price of somewhere in the neighborhood of $87.50. Give or take 10 bucks. Make it 15 to the downside, just to be safe.

Yeah man! Cool. So I’m in. It’s gonna go to that by like, Friday or something?

An enterprise level cybersecurity company with a sub 10 billion dollar valuation is basically unheard of in this century. But this is not a burn play where you’re gonna get 50% gains every day with no work. It’s a company that’s going to have to melt up to that. It still won’t be to that point this time next year.
BUT....that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a great story. It just means that this isn’t something you do a 0DTE YOLO on and expect to get something out of. And making an Avengers meme about it isn’t going to send it to the moon. This is something you buy and stash in a musty corner of your portfolio so you can tell your Boomer parents that you’re being responsible with your investing and you were just joking about betting your inheritance on weekly FD’s for shitty online dating sites where the women have to talk to your sorry ass first. Oh, and it’ll make the lambo you buy with the money from this safer.
Because I know it matters, here are 69 rockets so you apes understand what all this meant.
.....no, there aren't going to be any rockets. I lied.
Disclosures/Positions: I am long $BB, holding 100,000 shares @ $7.67 average and another 5000 January 2022 5c’s.

TL:DR: $87.50

All my love
-Chad Dickens

The Fog of Wat

The representative of the United Earth Senate was, felt the Admiral, exactly what she expected any politician to look like in the flesh.
The bespoke suit, the expensive soft shoes, and perfectly set hair. A man who was use to being on camera. The Senator also has that cagey look in his eye, the one all career politicians ended up having.
It was the look that judged every angle; a look that was forever hungry for an opportunity to exploit. The Senator’s eyes darted hither and thither, his brain forever seeking to blame someone for any problem he faced and to only find compromise when faced with a problem where this was impossible.
Everything the Admiral wasn’t. She felt a mixture of contempt and pity. Politicians were baseless creatures. Without purpose. They were creations of the very political systems humans demanded. They rose in power because humans wanted leaders to represent them. And they fell from power because humans were horrified at the results, unwilling to accept what they got was indicative of who they were.
Taking a breath, the Admiral stiffens her back and salutes him formally. He nods his head in curt reply. “Senator Merriweather,” she says in her strong firm voice, “we are glad you could join us today.”
The Senator response was typical of politicians; to them ‘getting to the point’ and ‘being blunt’ was an excuse just to be rude.
“You may not be Admiral Yashino,” he says in what he assumes is his most intimidating, shit/kicking voice; “I’m not here for a nice tour and a photo op.”
The problem with politicians was when they thought they were dealing with brutal honestly, they forgot that the Military deal with true brutal honestly on a daily. Yashino is unfazed.
“I had hoped so. We don’t usually receive visitors during live operations.”
“Well Admiral, you are now,” he sneers.
“Obviously,” she says her face neutral.
The politician seems to rock on his feet a second before ‘cutting to the chase’ (thank God, she thinks, I feared he would want to make a speech first) and narrowing those fast eyes speaks.
“I will be blunt Admiral. There is a LOT of concern about the Courier Service on the Senate Military Oversight Committee. A lot. Your budget has increased twelve fold in the last two years. Right now a full 30% of all Earth Defense is wasted on this little fiefdom of yours.”
“I wouldn’t say it was wasted...” she begins.
“For HALF the money we spend on the Couriers we could pay for 24 Star Cruisers. 24. We could actually build and man 6 battleships. In fact if we took 20% off your budget, in two years we could afford another Juggernaut. Another one.”
“I am aware of how much our branch of the armed forces...”
“And don’t get me started on that. A BRANCH? We have the Black Sky Navy, the Earth/Space Marine Corps, the Legionary Army. Why the hell do COURIERS need to break out of the Navy and set up their own new branch? The Logistical costs alone! New headquarters, new uniforms, new logistics chains of command...”
“I believe Admiral Rahindra presented the arguments at the last session of the Oversight Committee...”
“The Joint Chiefs are all for it, I heard them. And to pay for it they want us to INCREASE military spending. Increase it!”
“We are at war Senator,” says Yashino, evenly.
“And don’t we know it? I’m going to level with you- we think the Courier Service is a waste of time.”
“And that’s because Senator, you and the Oversight Committee are idiots,” she replies coldly, “you are idiots who have NO idea how to wage war in space. Your ignorance is obvious.”
The politicians eyes narrow. Like all his kind ‘getting to the point’ and ‘being blunt’ was something he felt only he was allowed to do. Doing it back caused them great offence.
“That could cost you your position Admiral.”
“No Senator. It won’t. What’s going to happen is you will leave here, go back to Earth, convince the Committee to approve budget spending on the military by the amount requested by the Joint Chiefs and allow us win the war.”
“Sure of yourself ain’t you?”
“It’s NOT your military ignorance that bothers me Senator. Its your scientific illiteracy that worries me the most. The Couriers exist to deal with one of the most brutal scientific truths in the universe. It is our species ability to solve an unsolvable problem that has meant we are winning this war. And you wish to CUT our budget?”
She turns to indicate the door leading into the complex.
“You do not wish a photo op correct? Fine. You have security clearance. You are the first to visit Courier Headquarters here on Yolunda Prime. Please- SEE what it is that we do. With your own eyes. Then decide if we are worth it.”
Senator Jefferson Merriweather was taken-aback. He had heard about this Admirals reputation. Brutal. Blunt. Incapable of social nuance. The Joint Chiefs also felt she was a military genius. Was behind every victory in the Gulompes War.
He WAS curious. But he was also determined to get revenge for her ‘idiot’ comment. He was a United Earth Senator dammit!
Still, he just nodded and followed her through the door. They entered a long, windowless, corridor, empty except two marines in dress uniform who stood at the far end guarding the distant exit. She walks quickly, but he is taller than her and keeps up.
“I take it,” she says the moment they begin walking, “you are aware of Operation Spindrift?”
“Yes. The 3rd Fleet is seeking to locate the Gulampes main battle Fleet over in the Rustine Sector.”
“Correct. Fleet Admiral Hunter is trying to bring the Gulampes to fight. The plan is to hold them in place while we bring in reinforcements and crush them.”
“It’s a good plan,” he says but she shakes her head.
“It’s a desperate plan. As long as the Gulampes can hide out in the Rustine Sector we cannot build on our victories last year. They are always able to outflank us and attack from the Rimward side of our borders. Literally we must destroy them or be unable to engage on the planned offensive on their homeworld.”
“I am aware of the Joint Chiefs overall battle plan Admiral,” he says sourly.
The Admiral curtly salutes the two marines, who raise their weapons in almost mechanical precision, eyes staring forever ahead. The door detecting the Admirals biometric signature opens automatically and the Senator is met by a wall of noise.
The Command Centre of the Navy Courier Service is all movement. Dozens of junior officers man stations talking to other officers. Real time images from across the vast interstellar war are displayed on larger monitors.
He can see that the room is made up of several clusters of officers and terminals. Each cluster is overseen by the type of ambitious rising officer humans excelled in creating. Brilliant, focused, career officers; Lieutenant-Commanders and Captains; each knowing promotion lay in excellence.
Above it all was the Admirals platform. A balcony twenty feet above the maelstrom below. The God Perch. Along the upper levels of the walls huge screens could display chosen images for all to see. But those in the God Perch were the intended audience.
As they stride out onto its wide platform, Senator Merriweather sees a single officer waiting for the Admirals return. Tall, slim, all muscle and tone below his uniform. A chest filled with decoration ribbons and a clean cut strong jaw. The Admiral glances at him and says, “Commander Grayson, report.”
“Admiral,” he salutes, his entire focus upon the smaller Japanese woman, the Senator utterly ignored, “We have word from Force Omega. The 3rd Fleet has engaged the enemy at Star GC421-618.”
“Excellent. How long until we get pictures?”
“Real time data is on its way.”
She nods. A small glint of amusement enters her eyes and she says, “Bring up the feed from the nearest relevant Loadstar, Commander. Get it to focus on GC421-618. On screen four.”
His face registers a tiny look of surprise but he doesn’t even pause. A few buttons are pressed and on one of the giant screens on the wall opposite an image appears. Stars floating in the endless night sky. One orange star sits much larger and nearer than the others Below it data signals in red flash information.
The Admiral indicates for the Senator to join him. She nods at the screen with the star-field. “That’s the image from the nearest Loadstar Telescope.”
The Senator smiles, “Our finest space telescopes. Highest level resolution. Able to see events billions of miles away in perfect clarity.”
His chest swells a little, “They are the eyes of the fleet. Nothing can match their resolution.”
The Admiral smiles, “Built by a consortium of cooperations who I believe made significant campaign contributions to yourself and others on the Oversight Committee Senator, Yes?”
“What are you suggesting Admiral?”
“Nothing Senator, just making an observation. Please excuse me for a moment.”
Yashimo quietly goes off to talk quietly with the tall Commander. Inwardly seething, the Senator listens but soon discovers they merely talk about reports from other sectors. He turns his attention back to the view on the giant screen.
The Loadstar Consortium HAD given his campaign a lot of money, true, but it had passed all the standards. The telescopes were the best humans had ever made. Blunt or not, this woman would pay for her sly allegations.
Minutes pass and Admiral Yashimo walks back over to him, tight lipped.
“Senator? The telescope will be zooming in the system in question now.”
Merriweather glances over and sees the view on the large screen change. It suddenly shows one of the stars in much much closer detail.
An orange giant; it burns with it low luminosity, ancient and aged. Around it they can make out a large gas giant planet, a swirling mix of purples and red many times the size and mass of Jupiter. A small icy planet sits to the far right of the screen, significantly smaller, but they can see lightning flashes in its Methane storms. The whole thing is amazing, vivid and detailed.
The Admiral nods, “This is the view from the Loadstar. The telescope is 2,008,200,000 miles out. That IS an impressive resolution I must admit.”
The Senator smiles smugly to himself, “Of course. No expense was spared in developing them for the military.”
“I am deeply disappointed to hear that...” she says. The Senator has had enough. He was about to unleash a stern lecture when the nearby Commander barks, “Admiral, we have real time data coming in from the Hermes.”
“On main screen immediately,” she says, her eyes narrowing.
The previously black massive screen in the centre of the room springs to life. It starts repeating a short video clip, no longer than five seconds. It’s a read out of a tactical display board, the kind found on all Earth ships. Along the bottom are dozens of icons in blue, the ships of the 3rd Fleet. Along the top and moving quickly downwards a massive series of red icons- the ships of the Gulampe. They move towards the human ships with growing speed. And then the image resets and repeats itself.
“Commander Grayson I want eyes-on images.”
“Yes Admiral,” he says before speaking into a communicator, “LC Monbasi, how long until we can display real time visuals?”
Down below, around a particularly busy cluster of screens, a tall African officer stands and touches his communicator. His words emerge from a small speaker nearby.
“We are getting it now, first four minutes is being unzipped.”
“I want it on screen two ASAP LC,” says the Commander.
“Roger,” comes the reply, “will upload within 6 seconds.”
“I want it at x10 speed,” says the Admiral. Down below the tall African nods and says “Yes Ma’am,” and begins furiously typing into a work station.
Seconds later on the screen to the right of the main one, pictures of the battle appear. The camera is located on a ship behind and to the right of the human front line. Merriweather can see before him the pride of the 3rd Fleet, The Ra, sat in the middle of a long formation of cruisers, frigates and anchored by the leviathan battleships. At x10 speed they seem to move very quickly, turning towards the orange star.
The camera picks up the enemy. The vast, vast horde of alien craft, literally hundreds of them. Thousands maybe. Their weird geometric design demonstrating the alien aesthetic of this enemy species. As the Senator watches he sees their fleet begin to move quickly towards the human one and then both sides unleashing fire.
Laser beams begin to bore holes in armour; huge projectile guns and gauss canon fire across space, their deadly cargo beginning the long journey towards their targets, slow moving but deadly. Slowest of all the missiles explode out of launch pads and begin racing towards targets, illuminating the void in between the fleets with their rockets.
And to this the Senator sees ten score fighters launch from launch bays, streaming low (below the carnage of the closing gap between the fleets) and starting to close the distance towards a much larger swarm of Gulampes fighters, both sides ready for a deadly dogfight...
Escorts, their thick armour and weapon interception systems their only true defence, move to place themselves between the deadly barrage aimed at the human fleet and the whole thing is a chaotic dance of movement and light and death.
The Senator watches open mouthed as the images plays out for just under a minute and then, just as the first waves of weapons are about to hit repeats itself. He had no idea how overwhelming it was, how small he would feel to see a battle first hand...
Commander Grayson turns to the Admiral, “I have a message from Captain Ling on the Hermes Admiral.”
“On my screen,” she says.
A small screen on the desk in front of her springs to life and a chubby Chinese officer appears and starts talking.
“Admiral- this is Hermes actual. Admiral Hunter reports the engagement has began. He has control. We have sent confirmation of receipt of control. Information was also passed to The Washington and The Thoth at the same time we sent to you. All Courier protocols are in effect. We have the God Spot. Awaiting confirmation of receipt and any additional orders. Hermes ends.”
The screen goes black. The Admiral presses a button and lifts her head; the Senator cannot see the camera she is obviously speaking towards as she says, “Hermes, this is Yolunda Base; acknowledging receipt. Recognising Admiral Hunter has control and you have the God Spot. Zulu time is seven minutes, nine seconds. Suggesting EyesOn at six minute intervals not ten. Inform Yolunda when FCRS down to 25% storage. We have The Yellow Star on stand by to replace you. Yolanda Base ends.”
She turns to the Commander, “Send that and tell The Yellow Star to up readiness. The Hermes is going to be busy.”
The tall American nods and does what is asked.
Behind them Senator Merriweather is frowning. Something is bothering him. Something isn’t right. He can’t put his finger on it... wait!
“Somethings wrong,” he says.
The Admiral turns to him, “Senator?”
The politician points at the screen showing the Loadstar information; it hasn’t changed. The slow burn of the Orange Star, the gently moving patterns in the gas giant.
“Why can’t we see it?”
The Admiral signs and with barely held contempt says “I know scientific literacy isn’t a crucial element in getting elected but didn’t the members of the Oversight Committee ever ASK to be told how space actually works?”
The Senator can only blink and she shakes her head. “Fine,” she spits, “I will explain it to you and you will hopefully explain to the idiots in the Senate.”
She points at the screen with the Loadstar image.
“That is a view from the Loadstar of the star where the battle is taking place right now yes? But it is over 2 billion miles away. Great resolution. But the light takes three hours to reach the telescope Senator. Three hours. You are looking at the feed from 3 hours ago. The fleets won’t even arrive for hours to come. The Loadstars are useless to us.”
He blinks and says “What?”
“Relativity Senator. The absolutes of the universe. The ONLY things that can travel faster than light in the whole universe are ships with FTL drives. The ONLY things. So, our ships and the Gulampe’s ships and anyone of the 8 species can get in these craft and go faster than light. But ONLY these. Light cannot go faster than light. Radio communications cannot. Televisual images cannot. NOTHING else can, understand?”
She snorts disgust at him, “Using such useless ideas as ‘telescopes’ is insanely stupid. By the time we get images of the battle on that? The battle will be over. If we depended on direct communications from the ships themselves? GC421 is over 25 light years from here. 39 light years from Earth. By the time we hear from the battle the survivors would already be raising their children.”
She leans forward towards him, “This is the fog of war Senator, made real in a way no human has EVER faced before. An impossible to breach barrier. No species out of the 8 with FTL have ever overcome it. Until we did.”
“How?”
“Couriers. Messengers. Until the development of the modern telecommunications networks, the way all generals commanded battles in the past. You would send people to inform you what was going on. All we did was update the system. You wish to know why 30% of the military budget goes on the couriers? Fine.”
She leads him towards the edge of the God Spot while she talks.
“On every command ship you will find at least a dozen couriers. They serve the commanding officer. Each man or woman has their own craft. And in the event of catastrophic loss of command, there are always at least twenty couriers in standby throughout the fleet. Every four minutes a courier is launched... there!”
She points to where the screen shows at the back of The Ra a small, long ship with a heavy back unit, flies out of a launch bay. It does not aim towards the battle but rather flies away from it, initiating its FTL drive and disappearing in a sudden flash.
“That is a Zephyr Class Courier ship. Using standard FTL a frigate could travel from here to GC421 in about two hours. Two hours is too slow. Zephyr’s are basically a powerful engine. No weapons, no life support. Just a tiny cockpit for the pilot in an encounter suit and a stupidly big engine. They could make it in 24 minutes.”
She wave ever hands, “Each Zephyr carries a data chip- everything seen by the Admiral over the last four minutes in the chip. And they carry it back.”
“Here?”
“No. Because one, 24 minutes is still too long and two? To go that fast Zephyrs burn a LOT of fuel very quickly. They have a range of just four minutes until they drop out of FTL,” she says, and indicates a small screen to the lower left hand side of the wall of screens that reads ‘Hermes Data’.
“And this is where the FCRS come in. Fuel & Communications Relay Ships, like the Hermes. The Hermes is basically a huge floating fuel truck. The Courier Service standard policy is to ALWAYS have at least one FCRS behind main human fleets at the distance a Zephyr can make in one jump. The Zephyr jumps there and transfers the data it carries- takes about ten seconds. Refuels and swings back.”
“The data from the battle is relayed back down the line,” she says and the Admiral smiles, “Like the old Pony Express yes? Passing it on to a fresher ship. And here is where we have improved a lot. That budget increase allowed us to design the Mercury Class. Much much bigger versions of the Zephyrs. Can burn for about 15 minutes give or take. And move even faster than Zephyrs. The data from the battle is transferred to a Mercury and THEY get it to here.”
She indicates the room filled with information coming in from the battle.
“From the Hermes position it takes about three minutes to get here. Which means we can get the down load, respond to it and they an take the response back to the Hermes and then from there back to the Third Fleet. Total time elapsed from the ships in battle sending us something to us receiving it here? Today is just over seven minutes. Which isn’t great. But it’s winning us the war.”
Grayson clears his throat and says, “Admiral- I have updated...”
“Display,” says the intense Japanese woman.
In the wall before them new images appear. The fleet display shows a furious battle as human ships hold the line again a much larger force, losing but doing so at deadly cost. On the other screen at x10 times speed video of the battle repeats before them; a chaotic image of explosions and weapon systems. The bright flash of thermo-nuclear detonations, the impact projectiles into thick armour, scores of guns of every possible shape and size firing seemingly endlessly. The aliens have sent two waves to close the distance between the two armadas.
The humans enact a heavy cost but the numbers are overwhelming. As they watch the staff below pause in their duties as the HSS Victoria, the vast battleship breaks apart and explodes, the HSS Jefferson, her small escort being caught in the blast...
Greyson says quietly, “Admiral- message from Admiral Hunter on The Ra,”
“On my screen,”
The Senator sees the face of the commander of the 3rd Fleet. Around him his command deck is the image of cold efficiency. He seems calm, steely even and his voice is quiet but intense.
“Command, this is 3rd Fleet Actual. Enemy was engaged 12 minutes ago. Operation Spindrift is go. We are on the clock. ETA Beta and Alpha Force is 8 minutes. I regret to announce we’ve lost The Ganges, The Spear, The Dorset, The Dawn, The Burning Star and we’ve just lost The Jefferson and The Victoria. I’m trying to minimise but we need to nail them here. No reason to divert from Spindrift template. Awaiting instruction. Ra ends.”
Admiral Yashino nods and glances at the Commander besides her.
“Send this to Earth Command. No addition from myself.”
“Yes Admiral,” he says. Yashino turns to the Senator besides her.
“We have our own Mercury’s in orbit. When the data from the battle reaches us we make a copy and send it in one of them to Earth command. 7 minutes to get from the battle to us. 4 minutes to get from us to High Command. The Joint Chiefs can witness a battle 39 light years away with a delay of about 11 minutes. THIS is what the Couriers do.”
The Senator nods opened mouthed and Yashino presses home the point.
“What your Committee and every single armchair general back on Earth fails to grasp however is that Couriers allow us unleash humanities most potent weapon- tactics. Without this system, without US, there would be no tactical approach to any space combat.”
“What do you mean?” Merriweather asks, looking confused. She wasn’t surprised. Few civilians actually had any idea how war was waged.
“Look at the alien fleet. Its vast. Why? Blobbing,” she begins but the Senator frowns.
“What’s blobbing?”
“Huge Force of ships acting in one massive formation. That’s how every single sentient species fights in space. They blob. We did until a few years ago.”
“Why?”
“Due to distances and the fixed speed of light, you cannot split your forces and hope to cope with a flexible battle space; cannot depend upon real time communications to reach your other forces with any hope of it making a difference. Even battles within a single star system have to be simplistic. It could take an hour each way for messages to be sent and responded to. Impossible.”
She sighs, “Each admiral is effectively commander in chief of his forces. Every single space battle is always the same. Bring as many guns to the battle as possible, fire at the enemy, hope you have better guns. That’s it. That’s all space warfare can be. WE however, can now do things like Spindrift. With Couriers in place and an effective system, we can use tactics.”
“What tactics?”
“Look at the screens carefully Senator. Look how small our numbers are.”
“Yes. You’re right. Where are...”
“Admiral Hunter split his forces into three. Force Alpha under Rear-Admiral Huntington; Force Beta under Read-Admiral Gonzales. And Force Omega under him. The aim is to have Omega act as bait. Fly around and seek out the Gulampe’s, who would have blobbed together. The moment he engaged them his job is to HOLD them. Fight viciously. Draw them in. Convince them they have a small enemy force tied down and commit all. He judges the situation. When he thinks they are ready he sends word. We can get his order to to Alpha and Beta Force in six minutes. They can arrive there 60 seconds after that.”
“But how...”
“And that’s where the system comes in. You may have heard- Hermes isn’t the only FCRS ship out there. It’s the Omega FCRS. Alpha has The Washington and Beta The Thoth. The Hermes sent word to their sister ships who sent word to their respective Rear Admirals.”
“How did they know where to find them?”
“Because Couriers are always moving back and forth checking everything. This is what an EyesOn commands are. Constantly checking things when there isn’t any battle. Constantly, constantly checking everything is where it’s suppose to be. Human beings becoming physical versions of radios. In fact...” She points to the still peaceful image brought by the the telescope 3 light hours away.
“When we ordered that to zoom in? How do you think we did that? Any command to that useless thing would have taken years to get there. We sent a Mercury there. The pilot docked with it and he manually set the zoom. See?”
She shakes her head, “We don’t ask for more money because we are greedy Senator; we ask for money money as we need to perfect this system as it is helping us win the war...”
She turns away. The Senator watches in amazement. Images from the battle come back- the Omega force of the 3rd Fleet taking a pounding, selling their lives dearly, buying time. The Gulampe fleet throwing more and more into it. The clock ticks.
25 minutes after the battle started the images of the arrival of the Alpha and Beta Force are relayed before their eyes.
Alpha appears to the right flank of the Gulampe’s. They appear and INSTANTLY unleash a preprogrammed barrage. They don’t have to work out where the targets would be or their distance. This information was delivered by Courier before they even arrived. Their impact is devastating. Merriweather wishes to cheer as he watches them slice through an entire flank of Gulampe’s, forcing their Commander to commit his reserve and re-address his lines...
A few minutes later they see Beta arrive. Coming in high above and below the main bulk of the Gulampe’s reserve. They fire weapons the moment they arrive, missiles aiming for empty space. But the Gulampe’s locations and speed had already been given. The enemies craft are doomed by their own velocity to run into their own destruction.
Forty five bloody minutes after the battle started, the Senator is watching as the admiral and her aide carefully witness as the Gulampe’s try and disengage from what was a bloodbath for them, but are stuck between four insanely vicious barrages of fire.
Grayson says quietly, “It’s like Cannae Admiral...”
“Hai...” comes the reply.
Senator Merriweather just stands in quiet awe. He snatched away his eyes form the epic victory and gazed at the floor below. Messages are relayed back and forth. The readiness of the 4th Fleet, in reserve in case Spindrift was a failure, and now being told they won’t be needed to save the day; status update on the repairs to 7th fleet in the Mars shipyards; deep range scouts in Gulampe territory; border patrols along Human-Shessimar Space; transfer of data from deep space observation posts next to the Geyant Supervoid.
Information. Carried to us in the only way one could carry such things in the age of FTL. By Courier.
He turns to the Admiral and formally bows.
“Admiral? I believe I owe you an apology...”
“Thank you Senator. But it would be better if you could perhaps convince the Oversight Committee of our worth,” she says quietly.
He smiles, “Oh you can be sure of that...”
That smile.
She bites down her distaste. No doubt when Merriweather returned to Earth he will make himself the Couriers most vocal champion. No doubt inflate his support while at the same time pretending he never had it any other way.
He was a politician. Their kind never changes.

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TIFU by unknowingly committing Nine Felonies and Seven Misdemeanors

I catfished a former boss to get paid

Fallout 76: Inventory Update Notes – January 26, 2021

Update Highlights

Update Version

Inventory and User Interface Improvements

Additional User Interface Updates

Daily Ops

Spread the Love: New Challenges and Rewards

Bug Fixes

Allies

Art & Graphics

C.A.M.P. and Workshops

Challenges

Daily Ops

Diseases

Enemies

Items

Mutations

NPCs

Performance and Stability

Perks

Quests and Events

Sound

User Interface

World

Prologue

Chapter 1

Sexy Space Babes: Chapter Twenty One

An old guy hired me to manage his life-sized dollhouse, but some of the occupants are starting to freak me out

NrdRage’s Friday DD: There’s still one meme stock that’s not dead yet. I present to you The Curious Case of Benjamin Butto....err Black Berry. ($BB)

First, let’s get some misconceptions out of the way:

Let’s take a dive into the financials before we get into the story:

Where do they make their money?

(Wayne’s World flashback/dream noises)….

Enter Blackberry

OK, so that’s cool. But how does this get me TENDIES, man? How much can these guys make?

(More Wayne’s World noises)

OK, dude, my wife’s boyfriend is asking me to bring him a beer. Can you speed this along? What does this matter?

Yeah man! Cool. So I’m in. It’s gonna go to that by like, Friday or something?

TL:DR: $87.50

The Fog of Wat

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