Do you want to be a part of a positive and hardworking culture?
Look no farther, come join Yoder Chevrolet!
OPPORTUNITY FOR A SIGN ON BONUS!
Who Are We? We are a state-of-the-art automotive company built on strong family values that have been a cornerstone of the community since 1908. Our businesses are dedicated and committed to serving the Northern Colorado community with best-in-class service, sales, repairs, and customer service. We care for thousands of customers every year because of the dedicated, committed, and professionally trained members of the Yoder Family of Companies.
What Would You Do? The right candidate will be responsible for performing accurate diagnostics on all automobile makes and models and providing fast, accurate, high-quality, efficient mechanical repairs. This position is responsible for nurturing and cultivating a positive culture and work environment that aligns with the organization’s mission and values.
What will you be responsible for?

• Diagnoses and repairs vehicles to specifications, ensuring they are safe to drive.
• Test drives vehicles and tests components and systems, using equipment such as infrared engine analyzers, compression gauges, and computerized diagnostic devices.
• Examines vehicles to determine extent of damage or malfunctions.
• Confers with advisors and/or customers to obtain descriptions of vehicle problems and to discuss work to be performed and future repair requirements.
• Tears down, repairs, and rebuilds faulty assemblies, such as power systems, steering systems, and linkages.
• Disassembles units and inspects parts for wear, using micrometers, calipers, and gauges.
• Repairs or replace parts such as pistons, rods, gears, valves, and bearings.
• Rewires ignition systems, lights, and instrument panels.
• Repairs manual and automatic transmissions.
• Adequately explains the technical diagnosis and required repairs to non-mechanical individuals.
• Completes accurate notes/records on RO in DMS.
• Participates in ongoing technical education.
• Assist with other duties as assigned.

What is the necessary education & experience

• High school degree or equivalent required.
• Automotive trade or technical school preferred.
• ASE certification is required

What are the total Rewards?

• CULTURE!!!
• Compensation is Flat Rate Non-Exempt: $35- $55 DOE & Certification.
• Competitive vacation time, sick time, paid holidays, profit sharing, 401(k), employer-paid life insurance, health, dental, vision, pet insurance, and company discounts for full-time positions.

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Hey brainiacs! Ever wonder why some classmates ace history tests by picturing epic battles, while others memorize dates like lyrics to their favorite song? The answer lies in your thinking style!
There are two major mind types: the Visualizer and the Verbalizer. Visualizers learn best with pictures, diagrams, and hands-on activities. They might zone out in lectures but light up during experiments! Verbalizers, on the other hand, rock written instructions and love a good debate. Textbooks are their jam, and they can explain complex concepts with ease.
So, which camp are you in? Do you doodle during lectures or take detailed notes? Let us know in the comments and share your best study hacks for your mind type!

I remember spending hours and hours as a child playing an online web-based flash game around 2005 or so. It was low-budget and probably made by 1-3 people. There was probably ~10 hours of content or such total.
The game functioned similarly to looked somewhat like the MMO Stick Online.
Flash-style graphics.
All players were very small and their equipment had a head slot, armor slot and weapon slot.
All players were rangers using bows shooting arrows and progression was upgrading your gear.
There could be 20+ players on a screen at once.
You progressed through screens / the world and killed monsters for either gold or their weapons / armor upgrades. The starting areas had you shooting slimes for gold. There were a few screens that contained shops / etc.
​
I distinctly remember the end-game armor being light-blue and the helmet was shaped like and a reference to Sonic's hair. Most players ran around using this armor as it was the best. You had to grind the end-game boss being a dragon in a cave for the armor to drop from them, so often this boss room was quite full.
​
Here's my faint memory of the last bosses area.
https://preview.redd.it/xceubv1v7j1d1.png?width=1526&format=png&auto=webp&s=c962553fb10bfb6996ec6606bd0c9da19e617850

Me and my brother are looking for some light gaming mouse to buy as a present,around 100 euros. Whats the best option in that price range? Thanks!

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Mission Log: Day 0024

Addendum 04

Well. The jig would seem to be up, as the old folks used to say. ​
I started by dimming the north-facing windows, slowly enough to merely catch Kregorim's attention; he responded by turning his head to face them and letting his bushy eyebrows rise a bit, but generally keeping a neutral stance. Then, I animated a glowing white dot appearing on the duskward wall at roughly chest-height to my new visitor, then extending it vertically into a line, then expanding it laterally into a door. Then, I let my avatar open it 'from his side', walk through, and close it again. ​
“I'm called Joachim,” I said, animating the avatar's mouth to match my movements, along with rubbing the back of his head with his left hand. “And I have to say that that spell of yours was... an interesting experience.” ​
Kregorim nodded and offered a stiff bow. “Then we would seem to have been equal partners in the exchange,” he answered, the barest trace of a twinkle in what I could pick up of his eyes; if he had anything like a smirk under that thicket of facial hair, I couldn't detect it. “So, are there any other introductions to be made? Exchanges of oaths or demands for sacrifices, things of that nature?” ​
I chuckled, and pointed at the fabricators behind him. “Introductions, certainly. No sacrifices of baubles or blood, if that was what you expected. But I'd advise you to get some practice in making your own furniture. It'll take a bit of explaining, even if I try to trim it down.” ​
Kregorim nodded, and this time I could definitely hear a chuckle in his voice. “I would be highly disappointed were that not the case, Joachim of the mysterious outpost,” he answered. He gestured at the fabricators. “Would you mind offering a weary old scholar some assistance with these marvelous machines?” ​
I animated the avatar nodding, then waving at the walls. “You may have noticed that the chambers in which your...” the avatar coughed into one hand, then continued, “... Lord Zortemos Egenor Lignignory the Fourth has been settling have those empty frames on the walls of each room?” The avatar pointed off to one side, and a simplified version of the baseline model of the communication-screens appeared a handsbreadth away from his finger. “I can see and hear through them, and they have other functions as well, but this unit specifically includes the fullest expression of the tool.” ​
With that, I 'jumped' the avatar onto the dawnward wall of the utility room, releasing another light coughing sound to let Kregorim know where 'he' had gone. “This way, at least, I won't need to raise my voice so it carries further...” ​

Addendum 05:

Kregorim turned out to be a very quick study. I walked him through designing some new clothes, starting from the base model of a Chinese scholastic robe but incorporating a three layers of lighter fabric in something more akin to a Japanese kimono. Yes, I helped him figure out some more practical forms of undergarments, and the very concept of 'elastic' fascinated him; I left a mental note to explore 'latex' and the organic sources thereof with him at some later point. And, of course, getting to the first pair of suitable 'house slippers' presented no challenge at all. ​
Still, I satisfied his curiosity about the need for five 'magic trunks' in rather short order, and once he got into his own set of 'wondrous finery' he tossed his 'traveling robes and unmentionables' into the 'laundry' trunk. Once he'd gotten the remaining machines programmed for things like a camp-cot and bedding, a chair and writing desk and a samovar of all things, I sort of walked him through the rest of the unit's features. ​
“Quite an array of tankards,” he commented, in the kitchen. “Stocked well enough to entertain guests of a stature from Orks all the way down to Gnomes, unless I'm very much mistaken.” ​
I animated the avatar nodding. “I'll need to explain more about that, but you and the rest of the group aren't my first guests.” ​
He nodded, and turned to face the avatar; his smile was wide enough to re-arrange the forest of his facial hair. “I'll try to keep from disappointing Lord Zee overmuch on the point,” he said, then turned to face the refrigerator. “Another magic trunk?” he asked, examining it without touching it. “Wider than the others... does this one produce foodstuffs?” ​
“Not 'produce' them, as such, but it does serve as a 'cold well', of sorts. The upper section keeps things moderately cool, the lower section keeps them frozen.” ​
That got another look of wonder out of him. “You can maintain ice in there, without magic?” he asked, pulling out the freezer-drawer and confirming it for himself. “What manner of foods are these?” he went on, examining the squared, shrink-wrapped blocks and rounded tubs. ​
“Soups, meats, and vegetables, for the most part. The rounded tubs are sort of an experiment for a dessert.” ​
“I don't suppose you could allow a hungry traveler something a bit more substantial?” ​
“You skipped past the cold box,” I pointed out. “I've been experimenting with various kinds of meats as well as vegetable dishes...” ​
“Soups of some sort...?” he asked, closing the freezer-drawer and opening the refrigerator. He paused, visibly confused, before extracting one of the wrapped and sealed 'meal bowls', turning it to examine it from three different angles, then replacing it to examine another, and then another. Finally, he selected one and turned to face the avatar. “The lid has markings resembling words, but I cannot say with confidence that I comprehend them precisely,” he said. “What is meant by... 'Pasta Salad Experiment Number 8'... if you don't mind?” ​
The avatar pointed. “The silverware you'll probably want is in the second drawer from the end,” I said. “As far as your question is concerned, I have... several different kinds of farms in the spaces below the living quarters up here on the surface, and a rather large library of information from my home that permits me to make approximations of a small but growing number of food.” I added a slight blush to the avatar's cheeks. “I have no capacity to taste or smell things, at least as you or the others might, so I have no idea whether you'll find it appetizing. All I can tell you is that I have a limited stock of various spices in the cabinet just to the right of this box, which is known as a 'refrigerator' in my language. If you feel the need to repay me for my hospitality, you're welcome to help me learn the names for the spices while we talk.” ​

Addendum 06

Kregorim devoured the first salad, admitting between bites that the Lignignory family's exit from the Ducal lands to the south had been somewhat hurried and therefore their dining-experiences had been something of a gamble. “We've managed to trade for many things as we head north,” he commented. He had figured out how to get clean drinking water from the kitchen sink into an Ork-scaled flagon without much prompting, and after swallowing five mouthfuls proceeded to turn his attention to the salad. I explained the basic ingredients and principles of 'pasta', as he considered a segment of neo-rotini on his fork. He ate it, a thoughtful expression on his face, eventually dubbing it 'surprisingly flavorful'. ​
From there, I walked him through an explanation of the 'dish washer' and 'stove' before guiding him through a simple tour of the rest of the house. The bathroom intrigued him, but he expressed even greater fascination with the barbecue on the back patio, especially the 'fuel pellets' I provided in sealed bags from one of the lower shelves. ​
“Why bother with such means, when these other amazing machines can cook food with greater precision?” he asked. ​
“My function, the reason I exist, is to help people recover from disasters,” I answered, when he came back inside from admiring the stonework of the patio handrails. “If they happen to be more comfortable cooking their own food over a fire, I want to help them do so. Hence, the cookfire station out there. It's called a 'barbecue grill' in my language, by the way.” ​
“...'Your language'...” he repeated, returning to the main room and settling down into his chair with a flagon of water in his right hand. “You've also mentioned 'your home' at least once in my hearing. May I ask where you come from?” ​
Hoo, boy. The tough questions... ​
“I'm from a lot further away than you might think, to begin with,” I explained. The avatar pointed south with his right hand, in the general direction of one of the four moons glowing in the sky. “For one thing, I'm from a place with only one moon.” The avatar tapped 'his side' of the wall with the other, and an equatorial-perspective image of Earth showing North and South America along with a portion of Antarctica down at the bottom. “This is a special kind of illusion, showing details of my home from far above its surface,” I explained. ​
Kregorim's eyes widened and he took a long pull from his flagon. “Seas, forests, deserts, mountains, wintry wastelands,” he murmured, attention moving from one detail to the next, until finally he straightened up in his chair. “... None of the lands with which I have knowledge appear here,” he stated. “And I suspect that this globe's other face will reveal similar mysteries.” ​
I animated the avatar shrugging. “Likely.” ​
I considered my next words very carefully. “Since I arrived here, 24 days ago, I have watched the heavens as best I can. From what I have discerned, the local star... or your sun... is measurably different than mine. I haven't been able to pick out any local planets yet, but I can say for certain that if any of the stars in your sky are the ones my people had cataloged, they're too far away for me to positively identify as such.” ​
Kregorim took that in, eyebrows twitching, and drained his flagon dry. He took it away from his mouth with a scowl, directed at the offending drinkware, but reduced its intensity before turning back to address the avatar. “I don't suppose you've managed to produce anything like a good strong ale since you've arrived?” he asked. “Our own supplies of such things are unlikely to be fit for drinking.” ​
I animated the avatar raising an eyebrow and waggling a finger. “I've none available, alas, though I do have some rather promising teas,” I told him. “You'll need to fabricate a teapot, though.” ​
He got up and proceeded to do so. As he did, I continued, “As far as your assessment of whatever ale you've managed to carry with you, I would ask you to ask the servants to pour whatever portion of it they wish to discard into the nearest convenient sink. Hopefully, you'll be able to get the word to them before they reach that stage of unloading.” ​
The avatar flicked the image of Earth away, then tapped 'his side' of the wall four more times. With each one, a new visual-window opened: one displaying the view just outside the foyer, another the main stairwell from the camera on the half-step just above the second-floor landing, the third the first-floor walkway (identifiable as such by the view of Lord Zee bustling in and out of the doorway to 'his' quarters, giving directions to the flow of 'servants') and the final one the view of the ground-floor walkway. ​
Up among the caravan, Thusarrel acted as a kind of traffic-director, guiding groups of servants with gestures and shouts to one wagon after another, in an order that made no particular sense to me. The 'flackaroos' stayed in the center, managed by three ragged-looking folk who seemed to know what they were doing; they also hurried to rake up any droppings as quickly as possible, out of the foot-traffic of the flow of servants carrying as mismatched a collection of luggage, furniture, decor and miscellany as ever came out of an estate sale. Kregorim's wagon remained mostly ignored, though the stair-steps remained down. ​
On the main staircase, Adallinda and Pippa made their way downward, the 'lady' scowling at the lines of servants passing her in both directions and flowing around her too-wide dress as smoothly as possible. Pippa guided her charge to frequent rest stops on the half-landings, sparing a moment here and there to nod back at the silent looks of gratitude from the luggage-bearing people. ​
“You're certain that my greedy brother and cousin have both gone for the chambers adjacent to my father's, Pippa?” Adallida demanded. ​
Her servant nodded once, then offered her hand to help steer the young lady back into the flow of foot-traffic. “Of course, my lady, “ she answered. “They both wish for the honor of being physically closest to your father's chosen quarters, though your other cousin and sister have likely out-raced them..." ​
On the first-floor view, from the camera opposite the service staircase and now pointing toward the lobby, I just caught a glimpse of Bhiocasaid shepherding Zoti into the second 'double unit' on the first floor, Yera and Totra actually holding the somnambulent Zoti while Bhiocasaid held off Nehdud and Haruinn as they protested the two ladies staking their claim ahead of the 'more worthy young lords' of the family. ​
“We're not sharing quarters with you beasts, and that's simply that!” she shouted at them. “If you want your own choice of suitable quarters, you'd better get down to the ground-floor and claim one before Adallinda does!” ​
The boys blinked at her, then looked at each other. Nehdud spun on his heel and raced back to the cliff-face lounge area, shoving his way through the flow of servants. I winced as I watched him making half-hearted goo-goo eyes and kissy-faces at whichever of them had obviously female shapes under their travel-rags. The female servants burdened with effects, even boxes the size of filled shopping bags that couldn't possibly require two people to hold, found themselves getting extra help to disguise both women's use of the item in question as a makeshift shield against his efforts. However slowly he was moving, though, he still made faster progress than Haruinn could possibly manage. ​
Adallinda's voice rang out from below, shrieking in triumph. Through the final view-window, Kregorim and I observed as she managed to slap her hand on the not-glass biometric scanner next to the door to the lower double-unit, Pippa now holding the sweating lady up and maneuvering her through the door, a line of six servants carrying baggage behind them. ​
Nehdud pushed through the line of servants to stand in front of the handrail, slamming his fist on the stone with one hand and snarling. Then he turned to look at Haruinn, noting his near-complete lack of movement, and his rage turned to a grin. He waved at his rival for the remaining double-suite, then resumed his efforts to force his way through the flows of servants. ​
Haruinn clenched his fists, until Midmolk pointed at the 'service stairway' just next to the now-claimed double-unit. “Their position matches something similar on the door below, master,” he pointed out. ​
Haruinn nodded, clanking his way to them at best possible speed, Midmolk following with the tower-shield. The Lignignory male slapped his hand on the palm-scanner; I granted him temporary access, mostly because I wanted to see if he could possibly beat that smarmy Nehdud if he had a clearer path. The young man succeeded in surprising me by gesturing at Midmolk, who handed him the tower-shield. He proceeded to ride it down the two half-flights of stairs like a sled, scraping the heck out of the finish and arriving at the ground-floor before Nehdud made it all the way through the lobby. ​
Haruinn pushed himself to his apparent limit, huffing and red-faced, as he quick-marched with all of that extra metal on his front to reach the palm-scanner and slap his hand on it. ​
Just as Nehdud threw open the door from the ground-floor lobby to see him do it. ​
The knife-burdened man strode into his doorway while Nehdud sank to his knees with a frustrated scream. ​
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I should not be writing this. I know they will be looking for me as soon as this goes live. I had to get the word out despite all the secrecy surrounding the project. I don't know what they'll do to me when they find me, but this has to get out.
I was unemployed vet tech looking for work when I came across a job listing offering a strangely large amount of money. What did I have to loose? I called the number and they gave me a website to go to that took me through an application process and a security clearance form that I had to fill out the last seven years of my life. They said it would be months until the clearance would come through but to my surprise a month later I got a phone call telling me I had been granted Interm Secret clearance and the job would proceed.
I had to go to a building without any name on it downtown and they took my photo for an ID card and a packet of information about where I was to go to the next day.
The next morning I drove to the address with a mix of excitement and apprehension. What about this job required a security clearance? Why had I gotten my interm secret so quickly? I figured I'd soon find out when I pulled up to a gate with a card reader. I swiped my ID and the razor wire topped gate slid open so I could pass. Yeah nothing ominous about that. I drove a mile or so down the road and parked in the parking lot in front of a building that looked like the set of a prison movie. The windows were narrow slits and I could tell from a distance that the door was very heavy duty. Thinking back a few minutes ago wasn't the top of that razor wire fence angled in as if to keep something in rather than people out?
I got out and approached the heavy door. I spotted the card reader and used my ID on it and it flashed green and there was a loud clunking sound from the door as it unlocked. I had to put some muscle behind it to get it to open and then it shut behind me followed by another loud clunk as the locks reengaged.
I turned to see a thick armored window with a guard staring me down.
"First day huh?" he asked me as he looked at his screen.
"Yeah," I said a bit nervously.
"Sit tight, your department head will be coming to pick you up and take you to your in-brief," he said.
"What uh, what is this place?" I asked.
"All that will be answered by the briefing so have a seat and relax. You're likely in the safest spot in the facility," he said.
I looked at the inner door and noticed it was just as thick and heavy as the outer one. I was essentially sitting in an armored booth so he was technically right about it being safe.
When my boss arrived he was wearing scrubs and had his ID card clipped to the bottom of the V of the top.
"So, you're my new tech?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir," I replied.
"Good, hopefully you follow instructions better than the last one," he said. "I'm Dr. Tanner. You can call me 'Sir' or 'Doctor'."
"Sir, can you tell me what I'll be doing here?" I asked.
"All in due time. First you need to complete the safety briefing. It is not a joke. Take a look at the windows and doors if you need convincing. The government doesn't spend this kind of money unless it's very necessary, and it is. You'll understand the need for it when I introduce you to our charges. I'm not going to tell you yet because I enjoy the look on people's faces when they get their first peak of what we're doing here," he said. "Now, for the safety briefing. Follow me."
He began to open the inner door when he stopped and looked back at me. "Do you have any electronic devices on you?"
"No Sir, the security documents instructed me to leave my phone and anything with a digital memory in the car," I said.
"Excellent, you're already demonstrating that you can follow directions," he said. Was that a hint of a smile I saw?
He lead me down the hallway to a room on the left and used his card to unlock and open the door. After I walked inside what appeared to be a conference room he followed me inside and let the door shut.
I immediately noticed the back of the door wasn't the usual thing one would expect to see. It had a big lever in the middle that looked like it operated bolts to secure the door shut. I started to wonder what the hell I had gotten myself into. I expected to be working with maybe the facility's guard dogs. This kind of security was on a level I hadn't experienced before.
"Good, you're observant, another plus," the doctor said.
He walked over to the table and picked up a recorder and pressed play. A trilling alarm sound came for it and he let it play for a few seconds before cutting it off.
"If you hear that sound along with flashing red lights you are to go to the nearest safe room, such as this one and use this lever to bolt the door," He walked over and pressed a button by the windows and the thick glass became opaque.
"And you are to opaque the windows with the control in the room so nothing can see in," he said and then pointed to a door on the other wall that had 'Emergency Supplies' written on it. "There you will find food, water, and other necessities if you happen to be locked down for an extended period of time. There is also a radio already set to the control room frequency. If the phone is not working pull the tab on the back of the radio so the battery makes contact and reports in with the information posted on the back of the door. That's basically who you are, where you are, and if there are any threats you know of near you. Otherwise sit tight unless told otherwise."
"Threats?" I asked.
"Our charges are out of containment or an external threat," the doctor replied.
"What's so dangerous that we need bunker rooms like this?" I asked.
"All in due time," he replied. "Have you ever used a tranquilizer gun?"
"No," I responded.
"No matter, you'd need to qualify on the two types we use anyway with the security team," he said.
"Why do we need tranquilizer guns?" I asked.
"The animals we work with are dangerous. They're sedated before they get to us and one of our tasks is to make sure they stay sedated until they're returned to the enclosure. If one wakes up and slips a restraint you are not going to want to go near it to give an injection. That's why we have tranq guns," The doctor said.
"That makes perfect sense to me," I said. My curiosity was burning wondering what we were working with. Had to be something like large predators to require this much security. A grizzly would be a plausible reason why the doors had the extra bars. The force they could produce could snap the usual latches.
"Good because it's time for my favorite part. Showing the new guy what we work with," the doctor said and led the way deeper into the facility and up a set of stars to a room labeled 'observation deck'.
"The windows are to remain frosted by the electronic controls there whenever the room is not in use. They cannot see in but they seem to know someone is watching them and it upsets them. It's best for everyone if they are not upset," He reached over and pressed the button and the electronic frosting cleared.
That's the moment where my brain completely derailed and I questioned my own sanity.
"W-Werewolves?" I asked.
"No, at least not at this facility. These are a lesser known cryptid called Dogmen, kind of like Bigfoot."
"Wait, is Bigfoot real?" I asked.
"Yes, but not nearly as widespread as 'sightings' would make you think," he said.
"If these exist, what else is real?" I asked him.
"That's beyond your need to know," he said sternly, but then his face softened. "I'll lend you a book later that contains everything we've confirmed and studied. After all, if you continue with this job you will have the opportunity to work with them in the future, and it's best you know what you're getting into," he said. "One benefit they probably haven't gotten around to telling you yet is that they will pay for your education. You can become a full veterinarian working with the most interesting creatures that exist," he said. "Not a bad gig, huh?"
"Except for the part where I'm working with large dangerous creatures," I said.
"Large, intelligent, dangerous creatures," he replied. "And that is why we have procedures and rules. Things like always having more sedative staged to inject if a patient starts to wake up, having them restrained at all times, and if they do wake up you have the tranq guns to put them back under without risking yourself," he said and tapped the control to frost over the glass again.
Our next stop was back in the conference room where there were now a couple of binders.
"Now for the boring part. Study these because you'll have to pass a test on them later. It's those procedures I mentioned. It covers everything from handling the animals, dosages we use, and why we can't leave after dark."
"Wait, we can't leave after dark?" I asked, a bit alarmed.
"There are dogmen in the woods surrounding this facility. The fence does a decent job of keeping them out but they do get in and they're not happy we have some of their kind captive. They're fairly shy during the day and become active at night so it's for your own safety that once the sun sets you stay here. We have secure rooms just for the occasion, and scrubs are not short in supply if you need a change of clothing. We have a mess hall staffed 24/7 by some excellent cooks. People who can do this job are rare so they take care of us. Now get to reading, you'll have to pass a test before you're allowed to work. I'll come pick you up for lunch."
I did as he said and spent the next few hours reading with a break for the promised lunch that was beef stroganoff and actually really good. I went for seconds. Then it was back to memorizing policy and procedures till I was finally done and managed a passing score on the test. That was followed by some time at an indoor range getting qualified on the tranq guns.
The doctor reviewed my test and nodded. "Excellent, you're a fast learner. We've rescheduled some things for tomorrow so we'll have the extra help. You head home and get a good night's rest. I'll see you in the morning in the veterinary section, just follow the signs it's easy to find," the doctor said.
I did as he said and drove home. I couldn't help but be a good deal more vigilant as I looked at the woods on the way out. Dogmen were out there and no one in the area except us knew. There were the cryptid hunters but they didn't know for sure like I did from seeing a pack close up.
Needless to say I didn't get a whole lot of sleep that night. My mind was racing with the possibilities of what was real from all of the stories.
In the morning I made breakfast and sat for a bit having to give myself a reality check that yesterday wasn't just a dream, so I finally picked up my keys and headed out. I drove down the lonely road and passed through the gate without incident. I parked my car and made my way through the security checkpoints and began following the signs to the Veterinarian department. As the doctor had said, it wasn't difficult to find.
There were three entrances all like airlocks that were long enough for a gurney. It didn't take long to figure out the purpose. If you had dangerous animals inside you wanted at least one door containment so they couldn't get past you and into the larger facility.
I went inside through the airlock like doors one at a time and found myself in a very familiar veterinary clinic though one that was very well stocked.
It was then that I met my other coworker, I'll call him Mike, who was sitting on a stool reading a magazine.
"Hey, you must be the new guy. I'm Mike," he said and I introduced myself.
"So, your first big day. You excited, or terrified?" Mike asked.
"A bit of both," I said honestly.
"Relax, by the time they get to us they've been pumped with enough drugs to drop an elephant. We take samples and the guards take them back out. Then we run the usual tests like any other animal. It's easy money," Mike said. "We're never in any danger."
"What about all of the procedures?" I asked.
"There's what's written down on paper and then there's what is practical and works. If we followed the checklist for every dogman that's brought in here it would just take us twice as long, and twice as long that it can wake up," Mike said. "So relax, I'll show you what you really have to do to streamline things."
What was I to say? He'd obviously been doing this for a long time and if his system worked who was I to question it?
Our first patient of the day made me the most nervous. The security team wheeled in a restrained female on a gurney right into the middle of our space then they backed out. Being the new guy I did the basics by checking heart rate, breathing, and looking into the eyes to make sure she was out cold. Everything was normal based on the numbers I had memorized.
Mike watched me, corrected my stethoscope placement a little and started drawing blood as soon as I was done. The moment he was done he buzzed the guards to take her back out while he labeled the samples.
"Less time they're in here the better so label your samples and fill out the papers once they're taken out," Mike said. "No need to have a dangerous animal laying around while we fill out forms."
"What about the extra sedative we're supposed to have ready?" I asked.
"The tranq guns are right there. Much safer to back off out of reach and just shoot them with another dose," Mike said. I couldn't fault his logic.
We had four more patients that day all went as smoothly as the first and I was beginning to relax. It was our last patient of the day when things went wrong.
It started normally with the guards rolling the male into our space and I took vitals and checked the eyes.
"Hey, I have some dilation here. I don't think he's under enough. Where's the sedative?" I asked.
"Don't worry about it. I'll be done before he realizes what happened," Mike said and undid one of the restraints a little so he could get to the vein. It was at that point things went horribly wrong. As soon as Mike inserted the needle the male woke up and jabbed it's hand upward catching Mike in the throat and spraying blood everywhere. I moved forward out of instinct to try and tighten the restraint when I felt a searing pain across my face and my right eye went red.
I stumbled back. Oh God had I lost my eye? I shook myself out of it long enough to badge through a door and throw the bolts before pressing the intercom button. "Creature out of containment in veterinary. I think Mike is dead. I'm hurt and need a medic!" I said before blacking out.
I don't know how long it was but when I woke up I was in a hospital room and the Veterinarian was sitting beside my bed.
"You're safe, you're in a hospital and just out of cosmetic surgery. You'll have some scars but it'll look like the result of a big cat. Your eye is fine."
"Mike?" I asked.
"Dead before any help would get to him. We have video of the whole thing including you questioning him multiple times on matters of procedure. Don't let someone senior intimidate you into not being safe. You have a month's paid leave to recuperate." he said.
So here I am. I need some advice. Should I go back to work after my leave is done or turn in my resignation? It won't take them much to figure out who I am if they find this post. I also don't know what they'll do to me if they do.

I (19F) am extremely unphotogenic. It’s to the point that it consumes about a 1/3 of my daily thoughts and I constantly worry about being photographed even in group pictures. Ik it sounds silly but other people have even admitted to me (mostly men) that I don’t always look the best in pictures.
Now I do know that I don’t look like this in real life, I obviously look different in the mirror vs camera (as I’ve been told as well) and I actually look pretty okay in videos and up close pictures. But sometimes it’s just very hard to accept the fact that I really don’t look good in photos the same way other people do. I mean I see people take 1 & done photos all the time but it almost feels like it takes me an eternity to get the right angle, lighting, & etc for a decent photo.
Ik it shouldn’t matter bcuz if anything what you look like in person should be what matters and I’ve been asked out before which means I’m not totally ugly. But it’s so hard to overcome especially when people try to call you “pretty” and “beautiful” and the only think you can think about is all the times you’re not. It’s embarrassing too bcuz I constantly think about how when I’m with a guy, what if him, a friend of his, or someone else finds a picture of me somewhere or on social media and thinks I’m ugly or makes fun of my looks? Or worse what if they even think that I’m too ugly to be with the person I’m dating?
Ugh, idk I’ve just been really struggling with this lately and I’m wondering that for anyone whose been in the same boat as me, how did you overcome this? Or if there was anything you did that helped you become more photogenic in pictures, even if small?

TL;DR It's a fun, novel handheld for people who want a completely unique, ultra-portable experience and don't like phone games. It comes with a fantastic community that keeps me coming back. Y’all are awesome!
————
Howdy! Here's my lengthy Playdate review after my first two weeks, including some observations I don't think I've seen anyone mention yet. I hope this helps someone decide if this quirky little thing is worth it.
Why I wanted a Playdate: I'm a casual gamer. I love my Switch (Stardew, Tower Fall, A Short Hike, It Takes Two, Smash Bros, etc) and hate my Xbox (purely Rocket League). I play mostly at home because, frankly, the Switch isn't portable enough as I can't throw it in my pocket and I ain't about to carry a bag around in case I want to check on my farm. Phone games never appealed to me as I just don't enjoy touch screens for interactive entertainment, plus ads can go eat dirt. I learned about the Playdate when it was first announced, but I'm cautious of completely new devices as we live in a world of cool ideas that get abandoned (my poor Pebble). But after preorders started arriving and the developer community continued growing, I realized the Playdate's development, evolution, and relevance won't depend on one company, but a whole involved group of people who all want this thing to succeed. So, I went for it.
The physical console: My immediate thought after unboxing was, this plastic is a little... gritty? Not cheap-feeling, but I was expecting a soft-touch plastic. The Playdate surface almost felt like a very fine fingernail file, but I got used to it quickly. Everything else about the build is flawless. It's solid, easy to throw in your pocket or backpack, and I can't stop picking it up. The crank is perfectly tuned, it takes no effort to turn but stays static when you don't touch it. The crank sensor is extremely precise. And the speaker on this thing genuinely surprised me, I’d say it rivals smartphone speakers.
The OS: Super clean, concise operating system, it solely exists to get you to your games. You have your home page to scroll through your library, Settings with 0 fluff, and the Catalog app (with the best shopping mart music). One gripe about Catalog is I wish it had a simple search or just “View all” option rather than sifting through collections. Of course you can search on a computephone but I would enjoy slightly more robust navigation on the Playdate itself.
The Screen: When the lighting is right, this screen looks amazing. It’s crisp and snappy. Very reminiscent of Pebble. BUT it would still be nice to have a backlight. It isn’t papematte like a Kindle screen, it’s reflective and really weird with light angles. For example, I’ve played on my covered balcony with full sunlight around me, but the dark ceiling of my balcony made it hard to see even with sunlight all around. I had to angle the screen toward the sky to get a better reflection.
The games: I’ve only scratched the surface of what this platform has to offer, but I’ll share my early thoughts. I’ve contained my urge to buy everything at once, sticking with 1-2 Catalog/Itch games a week to give each game a fair chance. Although I love the arcade games with precise crank controls, I’m eager to see more narrative options as the Playdate has certainly opened the door for the writers who want to make their brilliant storylines interactive. * Whitewater Wipeout: While it is fun, this is oddly one of my least favorite games so far. Even after dozens of attempts, the cranking direction vs what you see on screen just doesn’t feel right. * Casual Birder: Very cute, relaxing game. Feels very Stardew-adjacent with witty dialogue and a rewarding plot. I wish the story was a bit longer, it just sorta ends. I was enjoying the journey so much that the sudden conclusion made me sad that it was over so quickly. * Crankin’s Time Travel Adventure: This is exactly the kinda game you can only get with the Playdate. The controls are tight and the audio effects are hilarious and immersive. My only gripe (which feels like I’m overlooking something) is that you can’t replay levels you’ve already completed. I want to hand the game to my friends but I don’t want to start them on the difficult levels I’m on. * Boogie Loops: This one feels a bit over my head, or perhaps I just haven’t given it a fair shot. Everyone should have their own opinion but this doesn’t feel like something that you’d buy a Playdate for. I’m sure I’ve missed something but I just haven’t found much entertainment from it.
Now for a few Catalog games. * Root Bear: Phenomenal. Games like this are largely why I wanted the Playdate. It’s quirky, unique, utilizes the crank very precisely, and has tons of replayability. $103 so far! * A Balanced Brew: Sensational. Another great example of precise cranking. The visuals are striking and the evermore-challenging stages never feel repetitive. Flawless physics. * Recommendation Dog: At first I wasn’t all that enthused, but after a couple tries this is now one of my favorites. Such a fun use of the crank and hilarious details throughout the Rolodex. * A Joke That’s Worth .99¢: I hear that song in my nightmares now. Such a silly, Souls-difficulty game. Beautifully miserable, disgustingly replayable, just a true scourge that I can’t stop playing. 0/10 but maybe 12/10 depending on if I ever hear the damn punchline.
Itch.io has endless options, here are a few notable ones. * super corporate tax evader: Fun little game, cute crank feature. But I lost interest after a few plays, it’s pretty limited in content and I feel like it’s fairly easy to get high scores once you figure it out. I hope it updates with more content and more challenging situations, because it’s a smart little game. * Binairo: This is an example of a game you can easily get on your phone, but it’s just more tangible and fun on this little black and white screen. I’ve spent a lot of time solving these deceptively simple puzzles. * Maze: Fantastic ball balance game. The accelerometer in the Playdate is astonishingly sensitive, which makes this an awesome challenge. It even works upright which is weirdly intuitive. * Memory Lane: Basic card matching memory game, but the aesthetics and simplicity are very nice. Again, more enjoyable on Playdate than a phone screen.
I’m still trying a few more but haven’t played them enough to have a full impression: Post Hero, Reel Steal, Simorgh, About Time.
I hope this is informative for someone! I’ll probably check in with a smaller update in a few more weeks or after Season 1.

Hi, im a 26 year old female. That’s looking for a roleplay that’s long term. I want it to be story based, and romance, drama, dark themes. I can write 2-4 sentences to a paragraphs to two paragraphs. It can be detailed but not too detailed. This will be in first person. No one liners. No incest. So don't even ask.
What I’m looking for in a partner, is someone submissive. It will also be a modern type roleplay, which here is one idea, but im also curious on what ideas you have as well. I prefer for my partners to be 21+.
Plot
We dated for a few years but broke up, because our relationship wasn't the best. It's been a few years, and we haven't spoken. Until one day, my work is having a party. It was strange since we only had parties around the holidays. But the next one would be a week away. Which was a Christmas party. We gather around once the lights flicker and a sound of a glass is bit hit with a spoon. Everyone quiets down, and we turn to someone making an announcement.
"Ladies and gentlemen it seems Mr. Smith is stepping down from the company. We are having this party to celebrate and welcome our new boss. So please so some respect for..."
Two men walk in dressed in nice suits. We all look and see a woman walk in going to the center of the room. The men follow her, and we hear you make your small speech. I stand there shocked seeing you. I didn't know what to think. Everyone starts to go back to what they were doing. A few employees walk over to try to get on the good side of the new boss. Her smile and what she says. All seem kind and caring. I stand there watching, them try to suck up to you. I glare thinking "How the hell did she get this job? She must have done something. To get what she wanted." I roll my eyes and walk off to get drunk. To avoid you at all cost because I know it's going to be hell working for the princess.

I got broken up with over a month and a half ago and i feel like I am overreacting. We dated for 3 months and had every intention of being in it for the long hall. There was only one ongoing "fight" if you could even call it that. There was this girl that he had kept texting even though it made me uncomfortable. The only reason I did not want him to continue to text her was they had a previous fling. They had slept together even though they both were in relationships. He never told me much about her just that is was a huge mistake and he would never do it again. There is more context but it is not my place to share but based on it I was okay with starting a relationship with him. The issue I had was they both seemed to have this bond based on the situation. It was borderline unhealthy. The other issue was that he had neglected to tell me she was local until I had found her social media accounts stating that she went to a high school in the area. He also kept talking to her without telling me and were on a facetime call multiple times after he said he would stop talking to her. I found this out by looking on his phone. I never had the intent of going onto his phone to look at the messages, I was going on to send a photo to myself when I saw her contact/profile. (During our breakup I admitted it was not my place to look and had apologized for invading his privacy and breaking his trust, however he had also broken mine by continuing to lie and not tell me he had been talking to her).
At the time of out break-up I was completely blindsided as the night before he had been in my bed and everything was fine. A mutual friend had told him I went on his phone and apparently that was his breaking point. Despite the fact he knew I knew he was still talking to her. This mutual friend had been extremally jealous of me (she admitted so) which is why I believe she told him. I understand now after talking to my therapist that she had been using me. This friend had painted me in an awful light and had been telling a lot of people lies as well as exaggerating the truth to make it seem as bad as possible. (Just for context I am 17 and mutual friend is 20) For awhile I felt like I was an awful person but have recently realized that not everything was my fault. TW:PREGNANCY AND ABORTION
Our breakup was really rough and he never really explained why he was breaking up with me so the above paragraph is just my assumptions. During our breakup we were in minimal contact. This is were the situation take a huge turn so beware. I found out I was pregnant not even a week after we broke up. I was in shock as I was on birth control (also: I am extremally allergic to latex ) but I still knew the risk. The same day I found out he had asked me to not text him as he was "advised" not to text me even though he had agreed to stay in contact with me. I did not tell him. About a week later I had been in the hospital and had posted a story to my social media which he had texted me to ask if I was okay. He had looked at ever story I had posted and had liked all of my posts. I was trying to get us back on good terms before I told him I was pregnant. I went to a clinic in another state and was told I was about 5 weeks pregnant. About a week after I had thought I miscarried because there was a lot of bleeding. We had texted a few days before and had said we both still cared about each others wellbeing. So I felt like It was a good time to tell him. My reasoning was if I had miscarried then it was over and done with but if I was still pregnant he had the right to know. I told him. It did not go well. So much for caring about my wellbeing. He basically freaked out (which I expected) and told me that he needed time to process and "he didn't know" if he ever wanted to talk to me about it. To say I was pissed off was an understatement. First because he thought I would lie about something like that and second because he was fine with me someone who is also struggling with everything and hiding the biggest secret of all from everyone taking on the weight of everything. I went to the clinic a few days after and to no ones surprise I was still pregnant because the universe decided I needed more to deal with. They gave me the abortion pills I had order the pervious appointment. I wasn't sure what I was going to do in complete honesty. Part of me wanted to keep it but I knew it was not practical.
I knew we wanted time but as we saw I did not have time to give him. I was nearing on 7 weeks and needed to make a decision as the longer I waited the harder it would be. For more context I have a lot of health issues which were flaring up because of all the stress I was under. I texted him that I was still pregnant and he told me he couldn't deal with it and blocked me. I was definitely a bit harsh when I texted him my text read along the lines of "I did not miscarry I dont care if you answer or not". I broke down a bit after that and downed the first pill. I wrote him an email with all the photos I had and basically said you are a dick. It may have been a bit overkill to write him a dozen pages on why I thought blocking me was rude and selfish and that I hadn't asked him for anything and then proceeded to hand deliver them 2 weeks later which caused him to block me on everything else. I don't regret it btw it made me feel better. They best/worst part of this all is we are going to the same college and my friend who knows the entire situation is working under his mom this summer. I feel like I might be overreacting over the entire thing. I feel like I am going insane and what he did was not that bad, At least not as bad as my exes because he was a really good boyfriend and he was the first person I ever loved and saw a future with. So now I am in the no contact feels with a playlist to prove it.

Please use this thread to give and receive feedback on portfolios, resumes, and other job hunting assets. Also use this thread for discussion about what makes an effective case study, tools for creating a portfolio, or resume formatting.
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Example 2

Context:
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Looking for feedback on:
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Please keep all your guild recruiting to this thread. You may repost your advertisement once every 24 hours per guild or user. You can also try posting on: swgoh_guilds
There's also some Discord servers for recruiting: https://discord.gg/XZC9qfx https://discord.gg/GpUvgQ3 https://discord.gg/WxgwxHj
You can also find a guild on the swgoh.gg recruitment site. If you are a guild leader or officer, be sure to set up your guild page there.
One of the major features of the game is the ability to form guilds. Being in a guilds opens up new activities such as Raids, Daily Guild Activities, Territory Battles, and Territory Wars.
Guilds

• Maximum guild size is 50 players
• 3 ranks: Guild Leader, Officer and Member
• Guilds can have a custom name and choose an icon that best represents them
• Guild leaders can set membership requirements, including requiring approval to join and minimum level
• Players can join a guild in a variety of ways, such as viewing a list of recommended guilds or receiving an invitation from an ally
• A Guild Leaderboard of all guild members that is sortable by a variety of criteria ranging from power to contribution
• Various kinds of currencies introduced with guilds, both for rewards and Raids.

Guild Activities

• Shared Activities may be completed to earn Guild Currency that can be used to make purchases in Guild Shipments
• There are multiple tiers of difficulty for Guild Activities
• When an Activity is completed all members will be granted Guild Currency, with the highest contributors getting bonus currency
• Activities will change daily

Daily Guild Activity Calendar:

• Sunday - Cantina
• Monday - Light Side
• Tuesday - Energy
• Wednesday - Hard Mode
• Thursday - Challenges
• Friday - Dark Side
• Saturday - Arena

Debit/Credit Cards Accepted No Closing Costs Cash Price: $1,500 Finance with $200 Down and 12 Payments of $140 Per Month No Credit Check, No Income Documentation, No Prepayment Penalty 

(Prev) wiki
Julia wracked her brain, trying to figure out whom she could trust. In frustration, she turned towards the IT office while looking through her phone and trying to figure out who had booked all these appointments. Maybe someone in IT can untangle this. She only got a third of the way to her destination before her phone pinged with an urgent message about a last-minute-scheduling change that required her to hurry off to the Gorfal embassy. She ignored it and continued walking, but only made it three steps before her phone chimed again, to tell her she was going the wrong way, then again to tell her that Humanity urgently needed Gorfal support for certain resolutions coming before the Council soon, then again with a pointed message implying that if she didn’t make her way to the appointment, quickly, that she would offend the Gorfals and they would make trouble.
A small bark of a laugh escaped before she could stop it. A Gorfal? Make trouble? Be offended, maybe, they can get offended pretty easily, but make trouble? How? I’ve seen one of them jump sky-high at the sight of their own shadows. Now I…
Her phone pinged, again, with more urgent messages ordering – yes, ordering – her to get to the Embassy post-haste. Her eyes narrowed and she checked the sender of the messages, but they had all come from some sort of generic ‘secretarial pool’ account. That is against protocol: only automated messages should be using that sort of account. Someone is going to have some explaining to do! Wait, would anyone outside of IT even be able to access that account like that?
It only took a moment for her to find the thing’s ‘off’ button, so she waited until the screen started to power down then slammed it into a pocket, glad that Ambassadorial robes – unlike most women’s dresses – tended to have pockets. She hadn’t even made it another dozen steps before a staccato string of pings came from that same pocket, then some sort of odd siren sound. She took the device out and, without even looking at it, tossed through the nearest convenient door. She then pulled out her personal phone and pounded out a quick message to Jake. She hit send, got an automated acknowledgement, and then her phone mysteriously lost connection to the network. Well, that confirms that whoever is doing this is in IT. I doubt anyone in the secretarial pool would know how to pull that off.
She kept her phone in hand and changed course again, headed to the office of the former Second Ambassador. She got about half way there when a young secretary ran up to her. The boy-man started speaking before she'd even had the chance to get a good look at him, and something about his facial expression put her back up. She’d run out of patience at least two tricks ago, so she kept walking and made the poor lad try and keep up.
His urgent, and insistent, tone of voice did him no favors in her eyes. “Miss, you are supposed to be somewhere. Why are you…”
She cut him off with a curt gesture. “Is it normal for secretaries to greet an Ambassador so casually, speak without preamble, and presume to question a ranking Ambassador’s actions?”
The young man’s face became a study which she felt sure she’d laugh about later, and he put both hands out, palms up, in front of him while he shook his head and tried to answer.
No reason to prolong this. “Those were rhetorical questions, for you to think on the consequences of while you decide to answer my actual questions for you, or continue to try and push whatever someone has – without authorization, I assure you – tried to send you to do.”
She paused her words a moment, still refusing to break stride, and speared the man with a look that dared him to speak. He shuffled along the best he could and stared at her.
“Do you know where Amanda Jorgenson is right now, and why I haven’t seen her all day?”
“Umm, yes and… sorta?”
“Explain. Quickly.”
“Well, Ambassador Jorg…”
“Former Ambassador. She is an Advisor now”
“Yes, ma’am. Advisor Jorgenson went to your room this morning at the scheduled time, but you were already gone. She…”
Jorgenson’s voice came from inside a nearby door. “Is in her office, because she got tired of trying to chase you around, and got tired of the staff telling her one thing about where you are while the computers told her something else, and then finding out that both things she had been told were false.”
This brought a small smile to Julia’s lips. So, the brow-beaten mouse has already regained some measure of her spine? Good. She started to increase her pace, but the young secretary moved to block her. “Madam Ambassador, it is imperative…”
She arched an eyebrow at the youth and gave him her best flat stare until his words faltered. “There is… no, you know what, come with me. I want you where I can see you until I figure out if you are stupid or part of whatever the hell is going on around here.”
This put the guy’s back up, which didn’t speak well for either possibility. He also remained in place, which didn’t speak well for his sense of self-preservation. He then spoke in somewhat patronizing tones, despite the fact that he had to be half her age. “I know you just got here and have been busy, but there is a way that things…”
“Move, or I will move you, boy.”
He sputtered at this, his face red, and she started forward at speed. He had to choose between a bodily confrontation and getting out of her way. He backed up several steps, then backed up a little faster than her, then stopped and set his feet.
Not the right day to try me, bucko. She kept moving, eyes on the door rather than him, but made no attempt to go around him. He then had the temerity to reach for her and she decided she’d had enough. She danced around his hand, grabbed his ear, twisted it, pulled on it with just shy of enough force to take it off, forced him to bend over, and then to follow her. “Hey! You crazy lady! Get your hands… Ahhh….”
“No. And shut your idiot mouth. You stand there and try to patronize me, then browbeat me, then lay your hands on me? I don’t know what your problem is, kid, or why you think it an under secretary has any place bossing a ranked Ambassador around, and I don’t care.
“Something is still going on in this Embassy, and I bloody well mean to find out what, and your chutzpa means that, right now, you are my best candidate for finding someone who is part of it. I ran out of any patience at all several hours ago, and you just stepped on my last nerve.
“So, you are going to keep your bloody pie-hole shut unless I specifically ask you a question, and then you will speak only to answer that question. If you do anything else I will not only have you up on insubordination charges by the end of the day – and believe me I will stop at nothing to make ‘em stick – but you may end up with that blood I mentioned being literal instead of figurative!”
She reached the door from whence had come Jorgen’s voice, so she pivoted, pushed the young man forward, released his ear, stepped in behind him, kicked the door closed with more force than it probably needed, and stared at him with a look that silently dared him to speak without permission.
The kid gave her a sullen look for a few moments, then got a hard look on his face and made an aggressive turn to Jorgenson. The woman shrank back in her chair slightly, then glanced at her and seemed to rebound.
For herself, she took a small step forward and leaned in slightly, a cold smile on her face. The kid looked at her, then made another attempt to visually intimidate the former Ambassador. She let her smile deepen. “I am not joking, kid. You say one more thing out-of-turn and I will make it my life’s mission to see your career ended. Wait, no, that is not true. You aren’t worth the effort. I will make a couple of phone calls and see to it that an entire team of people make it their life’s mission to make sure I never hear another thing about you ever again, ~and~ see to it you never work anything but blue-collar jobs again.”
He turned hateful – and disbelieving – eyes on her for a moment and stared into hers. He apparently didn’t like what he saw, because he backed up and leaned against the wall. He tried to sneer at her, but his fear showed through the bravado.
Satisfied she’d dealt with that problem for a moment, she turned to Jorgenson, who spoke before she got a chance. “Sadly, this punk isn’t going to do you any good. He learned a lot of bad habits under Salish, and a severely inflated sense of his importance, authority, and competence. He wasn’t even one of Salish’s circle, nor a proper errand boy, just a sort of tertiary lapdog that the Ambassador allowed to get away with things because he kept others in line.”
The kid’s face turned red, but he stayed put. She allowed a grimace before she answered. “Well, shoot. I hoped…”
Her phone rang. She rolled her eyes, expected to find that whoever had been blowing up her Embassy phone had decided to start blowing up her personal phone instead of continuing to jam it, and mentally tried to calculate the odds on whether she’d get reimbursed if she smashed the phone into the table. The text came with an off-world header, however. ‘Found the culprit: some idiot named Andrew in IT who thinks he can hack the security I left behind and get away with it, but doesn’t even know how to cleanse a log properly. I’ve shut him down for now, and sent MPs to grab him. Will deal with whatever else he did when I show up tomorrow. Sorry for not keeping a closer eye on things, busy with the rest of the fallout and thought we’d got ‘em all. You should be good now. –Jake”
She allowed a small grin to show on her face. I’ll take the wins where I can get ‘em right now. “Jorgenson, do you know who Andrew in the IT department is?”
She snorted and made a face. “Yea, proper creep… by which I mean sleazy and obviously skimming money from somewhere, but I got told to leave it be. Why?” The woman then held a hand up. “You know, never mind, I think I can guess: He is the reason I’ve been getting messages all day saying that you are ‘indisposed’ and ‘attending important Council business’ and been unavailable for the briefings I really need to give you about various Ambassadors, who can and can’t be trusted among the staff here, and – now that you have been kept busy for a day and a half – the updates from Earth?”
She nodded and waved her phone, “Looks that way.” She then sat down, hard, in the nearest chair. “I think I want that briefing now, as briefly as you can give it. I am sure there are a dozen things I’m going to want to deal with based on what you are about to tell me.”
Jorgensen gave her a half-smile. “Well, the first thing I can tell you is that this little troll,” the woman waved dismissively at the young secretary, “Isn’t worth your time.”
“Fair enough, thank you. You know, I’m famished. Could you order us up some lunch while I check a couple of things? Something fairly light, preferably?”
“One chicken soup-and-salad coming up. Trust me on this one.” Julia nodded absently as she keyed a couple of messages into her phone. Overbearing boy tried to sit down, but she gave him a hard look and he straightened up. He seemed about to speak for a moment but thought better of it fast.
wiki

• Previous posts.

...to continue, this is what actual worship of Kyanah gods looks like in practice.
As for what day-to-day faith looks like for religious packs, it naturally varies greatly from region to region, but generally consists of two goals: attracting the attention and admiration of their chosen gods to ensure that said gods will want to keep them in the next iteration of the universe, and maximizing the influence of their favorite gods to ensure that they'll have the power to do so, by advertising and proselytizing for the god in question, donating to temples, or even becoming a pack of religious scholars. Those who are casually religious only do the first task; those who are devoutly religious do both. Like so many other aspects of Kyanah culture, the north-south divide, likely caused by the large number of impact ranges on or near the equator, plays a huge role in religious practices.
For northern hemisphere cultures, religion is usually a personal and private matter, handled primarily at the pack level or even, to an extent, the individual level: it is not unheard of for individuals to worship one or more gods on their own in addition to those that the rest of their pack worships, especially when said individual is from a different region or culture than the rest of the pack. Attitudes towards this from the rest of their pack can vary from acceptance to indifference to hostility. Gods with a large local following in some city-state often have one or more temples devoted to them, where offerings can be made to the relevant god; they will often sell thematic items that can be sacrificed as sacrificed as gifts to the temple's god, with the idea being that giving up time and worldly resources demonstrates faith and loyalty that will make said god want to keep them in the next iteration. Additionally messages and questions to a particular god can also be directed to religious experts (who may or may not live at the temple, depending on the local culture and which god the temple is devoted to) termed toryatkiot (literally "student", as in a pack who studies a particular god, learning about and in a sense "from" them, to understand that god and their behavior; though "monk" would be a more human-centric translation). These temple visits are occasionally done by packs to more effectively keep their names in the minds of the gods, or when turning to faith to solve some crisis, but for more everyday worship, where the services of professionals aren't needed or there isn't a temple nearby for a particular god, many packs will have private shrines in their own homes; as an analogy, using these shrines is kind of like cooking at home versus going to a restaurant. Major gods in the northern hemisphere are often quite commercialized, with plenty of merch and popular media centered on them.
In the southern hemisphere, religion tends to be somewhat more centralized and communal, with regular, periodic mass-worship sessions for various gods, where religious leaders explain key aspects of a particular god, and instructions on righteous behavior and gaining their favor, to the gathering. The gods themselves aren't so often commercialized in the south, where it's more common to see them in a more abstract and impersonal light (almost more like processes than beings), and Kyanah in southern cultures tend to be less likely to be atheist and more likely to be devoutly religious. However, being deeply and fundamentally religious does not generally equate to a "thou shalt not have fun" attitude; on the contrary, these mass worship sessions are frequently filled with drunken revelry, lots of food, and loud music...there has to be something to draw in congregations, after all. On the other hand, authoritarian governments in the southern hemisphere frequently use these mass worship sessions as an efficient way to spread propaganda to the masses, with some even making attendance mandatory for this reason.
The Kyanahs' general distrust of social structures and institutions larger than their own packs extends to their religious views as well; just as there aren't discrete religions with labels, there aren't high level religious leaders with global influence like a Pope, nor definitive holy books that huge sections of the population acknowledge as the truth. The Temple Alphas in the north will often only oversee a handful to a few dozen packs of toryatkiot, and even in the south, mass-worship sessions have no more than a few thousand packs at the absolute maximum, and usually far less, on the order of dozens to maybe a hundred. That is not to say that there aren't theological texts with broad appeal, that have sold millions or even billions of copies over decades or centuries, and been translated hundreds of times, but most Kyanah won't be like "this is the one true holy book, no other religious book could possibly have anything useful to say" and instead pick and choose whatever teachings they want from whatever texts they want. Not doing so is in fact seen as uneducated and spiritually lazy behavior that is unlikely to lead to being retained in the next iteration.
Also common to both hemispheres is the general desire to be remembered and liked by at least one god, a desire which manifests in their culture in several ways. "Forgotten" or "broken up" is probably the closest translation to the human term "damned"; "may you be forgotten" is a very strong insult in many cultures. Similarly, rather than being buried or burned, dead bodies are usually taken out into the wilderness and left in the open to desiccate, with their packmates being brought to rest with them when they die. When one member of a pack dies, the others will often build a cairn at the pack's final resting place; stacking stones is a common Kyanah art form in both religious and secular contexts, and different types and shapes of stones often have specific meanings. Rich and powerful packs, especially in ancient times, would often commission large and elaborate monuments at their final resting place to really draw the attention of the gods. Also of note is that religion and science have rarely been in serious conflict on the Kyanah homeworld; as the gods are believed to act in a predictable and logical manner, science can simply be reframed as understanding and predicting the actions of the gods. Indeed, many packs who have made great scientific discoveries were also devoutly religious, and in general, religious adherence has not declined by much even in the wake of advanced science and technology. Depending on the time period, global prevalence of atheism tends to range between 10 and 30 percent for at least the past few centuries, often spiking during tumultuous times when many Kyanah have doubts about a self-optimizing universe. The exact prevalence of atheist views can be much higher or lower depending on geographic region as well.
Of course, Kyanah religious beliefs are often twisted and manipulated by those seeking worldly gain, much like human religious systems. There are corrupt toryatkiot who convince others that they can buy their way into the next iteration, in order to make a tidy profit. Mass-worship leaders who spread government propaganda disguised as religious teachings. Cultists who make up gods solely for a self-serving agenda. Politicians who start religious wars, believing that the best way to spread the influence of their favorite gods is at gunpoint. However, state institutions do seem to have largely secularized in recent centuries, a trend that has accelerated with the decline of Utopianism, with the gods being used less and less frequently as a direct justification for political and military action.

Soulmage

I was lucky enough to be able to feel myself dying. Cancer’s touch had been lighter on me than Sansen, and if I hadn’t known exactly where to look, I likely would’ve missed some of the subtler symptoms. But a soulmage’s memory was not that of a regular human’s: if I trawled through the arid deserts of my soul for long enough, I could retrieve and relive weeks of my slow decline all at once.
The eight memories I held suspended in my soulspace formed a clear trend. Despite how normal it felt nowadays to sleep sixteen hours a day and eat nothing more than a few bites, when I could flick back through days of my life like they were attractions at a street carnival, the pattern became clear.
I would be dead within the month if this kept up.
It was impeccably clear to me how I felt about that: I had not fought my way through a state-sponsored abuser, a blizzard-torn war, and my own arrogance and fear just to collapse from my wounds at the end of the race. The endless, determined, glittering sands of my soul were testament to that. But as much as I wanted to trust the only person in Knwharfhelm who practiced the kind of medicine I’d need to save my life, Zhytln was still a mind-manipulator with incomprehensible goals that I trusted no further than I could throw her. Which wasn’t very far, considering that she somehow effortlessly negated any attempts to fling magic her way.
So I dug deeper. Much as I detested Zhytln, I had studied her strange magics and—with Meloai’s help—developed them into something safe and ethical for my own use. I would never invade the mind of another, but working magic on my own mind was something I could do. I held a memory of Cienne, shimmering in the endless sands, and brought it to life. The living memory burned, bits of its essence rotating out of existence in angles my mind couldn’t track, as I transmitted my command into its very being: search my memories for anything I can recall about cures for cancer.
The memory of Cienne nodded and raced across the deserts of my soul, occasionally flickering and warping as it angled itself through the infinite dimensions of soulspace. Memories were four-dimensional, and I could only perceive three; with the help of another two living memories I summoned, I could grab different perspectives of my soul, hunting down memories faster than I could on my own.
Only marginally faster, unfortunately; when I tried to maintain a fourth living memory, the other three promptly destabilized, giving me a splitting headache. But inevitably, I caught the shape of a winding thread of memory, snaking throughout the planes of my soul, and hauled it to the surface. Where had I remembered glimpsing a cure for cancer? I touched the memory—
snow that swallowed footsteps and screams from your dorm room alike, hearth dragons gamboling beneath an ice-blue moon—
Home. The last remaining lead was home.
I had grown up in the Silent Peaks; despite or perhaps because of their remote, resource-barren location, they managed to be one of the most magically adept nations in the world. And they’d been the ones to discover or invent the strange light magic that sickened all whose gaze it fell upon—they wouldn’t make a weapon that devastating without understanding how to slow its effects in their own. If anyone else knew how to heal me of the sickness in my bones, it would be the arrogant, sadistic witches who’d brewed it to life in the first place.
My eyes snapped open, the living memories dismissed, and I got to my feet unsteadily. Feathers drifted in my soul, jets of wind helping prop me up.
If I wanted answers on how to live, I’d have to beat them out of the manipulative hellhole I’d fled from so many months ago.
I clenched my fists, and lines of frost danced around the room in tune with my mood.
Finally, a problem a riftmaw could solve.
The Whispered Secret held memories in every cup and nail and floorboard. Salt-crusted breakups, glittering like stars; thick, layered funerals that let out puffs of dust when touch; lurking, eight-eyed rivalries that skittered in the dark—if a human soul could host it, the Whispered Secret had it.
I walked in with a bottled soul shard that resembled nothing at all in this shop of souls and secrets, and the bartender fell silent as I slid it across the counter.
The bottle’s soul held something that had been oil, once, although it had long since congealed, strange algal blooms that needed no water to live infesting the eldritch emotion. Zhytln picked it up, turned the label, and stilled.
“Dorcelessness,” Zhytln read out, expression flat. I saw the gears in her head turning as she processed the information. “Where did you find this?”
“The shattered soul of a juvenile monster,” I said.
Zhytln set the bottle down. “Cienne never mentioned you had samples of the Silent Peaks’ creations,” she said.
“He doesn’t know.”
“Why tell me?”
“I’m leaving, soon, to the place where this came from.” I tapped the bottle. “You’re a scientific type. Analytical. Vivisectionist. And I don’t want that anywhere near Cienne or me. But if I can aim you in the direction of a bigger monster, I will.”
Zhytln tilted her head, and I got the feeling someone else would have asked the harder questions. Why I hadn’t told Cienne I’d snatched a piece of Iola’s soul when Cienne had killed him. Why I’d waited until now to tell Cienne I was going back to the place that horror had been birthed. Why I’d come to Zhytln first, instead of someone I cared about and trusted.
The answers were all the same: because Zhytln would never think to ask, and Cienne would never think of anything else.
Zhytln pocketed the bottle warily. “I meant what I said, when we first met. I seek no conflict, with your party or anyone else’s. I will not step into this war of yours.”
The corners of my lips twitched. “No. But it’ll step into your business, eventually. When that day comes, they’ll find someone armed and ready with knowledge of how to fight them.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Zhytln said. “Now, if there’s anything else I can do for you…?”
I pushed the stool back from the bar, about to shake my head, then paused. Chuckled, dark and bitter. “Actually, there is.”
Zhytln raised an eyebrow, and I slapped two coins down on the counter. “Give me a drink, bartender. I have a feeling I’ll need it.”
Soulmage
I was lucky enough to be able to feel myself dying. Cancer’s touch had been lighter on me than Sansen, and if I hadn’t known exactly where to look, I likely would’ve missed some of the subtler symptoms. But a soulmage’s memory was not that of a regular human’s: if I trawled through the arid deserts of my soul for long enough, I could retrieve and relive weeks of my slow decline all at once.
The eight memories I held suspended in my soulspace formed a clear trend. Despite how normal it felt nowadays to sleep sixteen hours a day and eat nothing more than a few bites, when I could flick back through days of my life like they were attractions at a street carnival, the pattern became clear.
I would be dead within the month if this kept up.
It was impeccably clear to me how I felt about that: I had not fought my way through a state-sponsored abuser, a blizzard-torn war, and my own arrogance and fear just to collapse from my wounds at the end of the race. The endless, determined, glittering sands of my soul were testament to that. But as much as I wanted to trust the only person in Knwharfhelm who practiced the kind of medicine I’d need to save my life, Zhytln was still a mind-manipulator with incomprehensible goals that I trusted no further than I could throw her. Which wasn’t very far, considering that she somehow effortlessly negated any attempts to fling magic her way.
So I dug deeper. Much as I detested Zhytln, I had studied her strange magics and—with Meloai’s help—developed them into something safe and ethical for my own use. I would never invade the mind of another, but working magic on my own mind was something I could do. I held a memory of Cienne, shimmering in the endless sands, and brought it to life. The living memory burned, bits of its essence rotating out of existence in angles my mind couldn’t track, as I transmitted my command into its very being: search my memories for anything I can recall about cures for cancer.
The memory of Cienne nodded and raced across the deserts of my soul, occasionally flickering and warping as it angled itself through the infinite dimensions of soulspace. Memories were four-dimensional, and I could only perceive three; with the help of another two living memories I summoned, I could grab different perspectives of my soul, hunting down memories faster than I could on my own.
Only marginally faster, unfortunately; when I tried to maintain a fourth living memory, the other three promptly destabilized, giving me a splitting headache. But inevitably, I caught the shape of a winding thread of memory, snaking throughout the planes of my soul, and hauled it to the surface. Where had I remembered glimpsing a cure for cancer? I touched the memory—
snow that swallowed footsteps and screams from your dorm room alike, hearth dragons gamboling beneath an ice-blue moon—
Home. The last remaining lead was home.
I had grown up in the Silent Peaks; despite or perhaps because of their remote, resource-barren location, they managed to be one of the most magically adept nations in the world. And they’d been the ones to discover or invent the strange light magic that sickened all whose gaze it fell upon—they wouldn’t make a weapon that devastating without understanding how to slow its effects in their own. If anyone else knew how to heal me of the sickness in my bones, it would be the arrogant, sadistic witches who’d brewed it to life in the first place.
My eyes snapped open, the living memories dismissed, and I got to my feet unsteadily. Feathers drifted in my soul, jets of wind helping prop me up.
If I wanted answers on how to live, I’d have to beat them out of the manipulative hellhole I’d fled from so many months ago.
I clenched my fists, and lines of frost danced around the room in tune with my mood.
Finally, a problem a riftmaw could solve.
The Whispered Secret held memories in every cup and nail and floorboard. Salt-crusted breakups, glittering like stars; thick, layered funerals that let out puffs of dust when touch; lurking, eight-eyed rivalries that skittered in the dark—if a human soul could host it, the Whispered Secret had it.
I walked in with a bottled soul shard that resembled nothing at all in this shop of souls and secrets, and the bartender fell silent as I slid it across the counter.
The bottle’s soul held something that had been oil, once, although it had long since congealed, strange algal blooms that needed no water to live infesting the eldritch emotion. Zhytln picked it up, turned the label, and stilled.
“Dorcelessness,” Zhytln read out, expression flat. I saw the gears in her head turning as she processed the information. “Where did you find this?”
“The shattered soul of a juvenile monster,” I said.
Zhytln set the bottle down. “Cienne never mentioned you had samples of the Silent Peaks’ creations,” she said.
“He doesn’t know.”
“Why tell me?”
“I’m leaving, soon, to the place where this came from.” I tapped the bottle. “You’re a scientific type. Analytical. Vivisectionist. And I don’t want that anywhere near Cienne or me. But if I can aim you in the direction of a bigger monster, I will.”
Zhytln tilted her head, and I got the feeling someone else would have asked the harder questions. Why I hadn’t told Cienne I’d snatched a piece of Iola’s soul when Cienne had killed him. Why I’d waited until now to tell Cienne I was going back to the place that horror had been birthed. Why I’d come to Zhytln first, instead of someone I cared about and trusted.
The answers were all the same: because Zhytln would never think to ask, and Cienne would never think of anything else.
Zhytln pocketed the bottle warily. “I meant what I said, when we first met. I seek no conflict, with your party or anyone else’s. I will not step into this war of yours.”
The corners of my lips twitched. “No. But it’ll step into your business, eventually. When that day comes, they’ll find someone armed and ready with knowledge of how to fight them.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Zhytln said. “Now, if there’s anything else I can do for you…?”
I pushed the stool back from the bar, about to shake my head, then paused. Chuckled, dark and bitter. “Actually, there is.”
Zhytln raised an eyebrow, and I slapped two coins down on the counter. “Give me a drink, bartender. I have a feeling I’ll need it.”
A.N.
Thanks to u/snakingfire for the original prompt! Soulmage is a web serial inspired by prompts; you can check out the rest of the story at bubblewriters.

What's up all! 4thWall here. Hope you guys have had a fantastic weekend.
If this is your first episode of "The Black", Welcome!! I hope you will join us from the beginning!
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Tense silence greeted Corellus Grarzia. Moments ago, he had stepped off the shuttle sent for him, and now he was standing in the entryway to the main conference room aboard USN Wisconsin. This meeting greatly reminded him of his first meeting after taking captainship of Olyvia. This time however, there were many more players. All but two of the Privateers were present, the latter being simply too deep into a mission, and too far away to make it in time. Both of the missing ships had completed their objectives, and were in transit, but waiting for them was simply not an option. Admiral Grarzia had arrived with Wisconsin and the rest of the Privateers inside of a week from Cory’s transmission, and Admiral stevens had arrived a week after that. Admiral fulmori had retained the USN Texas as his Flag, having grown fond of Captain Gleeson. Unity High Admiral Kawmarin was still currently flagged aboard USN Galveston and was currently using her superior speed to respond to race across unity space in an attempt to rally Unity forces.

Admiral Clint Stevens had arrived with a five-ship battle group. He was flagged aboard USN Tharsis and was escorted by USN Furlong, USN Iowa, a recently retrofitted and upgraded DDS Protectorate, and a newly commissioned Delmar Frigate. The DDS Stormhold was a hybrid vessel. She had been in the early stages of construction when Humanity and Delmar met for the first time, and she had been modified during construction to make use of the recent innovations born of the their budding alliance. She had but half the displacement of an Iowa Class, but she sported two thirds of the weight of fire by destructive potential. Stormhold had struck many human sailors as what a battleship class would have looked like if the Martians had decided to build the class during Humanity’s civil war. Stormhold carried but a pair of super firing Kinetic batteries in dorsal and ventral positions with a single pair of super firing batteries at her midships. Each turret in the battery only boasted a pair of barrels, and they fired the same 1005 projectile. Stormhold was armed to please however, and she carried twice the same number of PAC batteries as USN Tharsis, and she boasted a full-length central weapon that was very uniquely Delmar. The combined minds of the Brothers grem and their research counterparts in Sol had spent years researching and iterating on the Martian Particle Acceleration Cannon, and they had found something.

DDS Stormhold sported a single long low profile blister stretching the length of her ventral hull, set just to the left of centerline to make room for her kinetic batteries. No less than 6 PAC systems were arrayed in parallel, all feeding one focusing array of titanic size. Stormhold could fire up to all 6 at the array, varying the amount of destruction she wished to adjudicate upon her enemy. Bart had dubbed tis weapon the C-PAC, or “Compound Particle Acceleration Cannon”. The discovery however was not that combining Pac beams was doable. Mars had tried and failed to accomplish this. The discovery was how to make it efficient enough to create a viable weapon. This accomplished, something became abundantly clear from the initial testing…. A C-PAC did not scale linearly, but exponentially. A C-PAC could produce the same destructive energy as an Eros, but only within two hundred fifty thousand Kilometers. The rate of fire was still low, and firing all 6 feeder PACs at once was a cautious calculation, as the heat generated was still a problem, but early tests in a long dead system had seen the accidental cracking of the target planet’s crust. The reaction that followed destabilized the planet entirely and said star system was now one interstellar body lighter.

Stevens brought more than just a battle group, having appropriated four troop transports. Each transport carried a detachment of Marines, with the two MACE squads spread between them for heavy support. It was a small number, but they were to be on hand to evacuate any survivors they could. “Alright people, gather round. All of you have seen the brief by now, and I know all of you are ready for this to happen. Let’s not go in halfcocked” Several heads bobbed in acknowledgement and Stevens turned to spear Cory with a gaze, “For those who might not have met yet, this is Corellus Grarzia, Captain of the Privateer that uncovered this little honeypot of horrors. He’s been the closest to this thing the longest.” Stevens waves to Cory, “Captain?”

Cory stepped up and took a long breath, “The situation’s only gotten worse since my first transmission. The prison freighters and the frigates in orbit are just the beginning of the problem. We’ve since discovered camps on the surface of the planet, I’ve marked them in your updated files” Cory flicked his wrist over his data pad, propagating the information to everyone else’s pad and the table in the center of the room, “This is not just a torture camp, it is an indoctrination and training facility. The kissing of the hand is a surrender trigger of sorts. Kiss the hand, and the child is taken from hell, given food, and given a task. Usually something simple and innocuous, but it is rewarded. If a child accepts without instruction, and without question; they are sent to the surface where they are put into an intense indoctrination program.” Cory took a pause, watching the faces of the men and women in the room. Hard eyes and grim expressions waited for him to continue. “The children are eventually taken on hunts…. Hunts of other failed children and adults of their own species… and hunts of the locals… they are creating insurgents. We may and will encounter opposition made of child soldiers and operatives on the surface. We’ve also discovered a fast response system. Attacking one freighter at a time will trigger the destruction of the other freighters, and it appears that the Frigates in the system are in direct communication with someone outside the system every 20 minutes. That is all we know, at this time.”

Cory nodded to the admirals before stepping back from the table. Mac gave Cory a nod before taking a deep breath, “Thank you Captain. Alright people, no idea goes unspoken. No question goes unasked, we only have one shot at this. Let’s get to work.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Warren’s eyes slowly fluttered open, aroused from his slumber by soft lips working their way up from the nape of his neck, “Hmm, Good morning.” He whispered as Jezz pulled herself atop him with a smile of her own. She kissed her way up his chin to his ear before responding, “Morning.” She coo’d back at him, her sultry tone lighting his senses on fire. Warren pulled her the rest of the way to his lips, kissing her gently just as his communicator chirped, “UUgghhhh!!” he groaned, breaking their kiss to open the channel, “L.T. Patterson here.” He stated, trying to keep his voice professional as Jezzaria’s lips began to wander again.
*Lieutenant, We’ve received word. The cargo transports finished loading earlier than anticipated. We will be departing in twenty minutes. Captain Yasushi has asked for your presence on the bridge.*

“Understood, I’ll be there… uh…. Momentarily.” Warren responded closing the channel, looking down at a smugly amused Jezzaria, “Jezz! Now how am I supposed to show up on the bridge with that…”

“Hmm” She mused coyly. “Probably shouldn’t, I better take care of that.” Warren never had a chance to respond.

Twenty minutes later, an only slightly breathless Warren arrived on the bridge, receiving a raised eyebrow from Excelsior’s Captain. “Cutting it rather close, Lieutenant?” Yasushi asked as he scanned the last of the information before departure.

Warren kept his face carefully neutral, “Unavoidable, Sir.” He said formally. “You asked to see me?”

“Yes, Is the Elerian delegation settled in?” Yasushi asked first. “We’ve done what we can to give them ample spaces on the ship attuned to their gravity, and signage to prevent accidents, but I’ve heard rumblings.”

“It not… the gravity sir… May we?” Warren responded carefully, nodding to the captain’s ready room. The two of them stepped into the more private setting, and Warren sat heavily into the chair opposite the desk.

Yasushi regarded the young officer with a studious gaze, “Talk to me son. I need to know if something is brewing during this voyage.”

Warren sighed inwardly. The delegation made up about a quarter of the surviving Elerian race, the Oldest of the Children saved from their planet. They had finished catching up in their education and updating on changes wrought while they were asleep. These Oldest had requested, and obviously granted, permission to travel to their home planet to participate in its recolonization. There was only one real problem with the situation. “Jezz wishes to continue to Delmar, but she is the defacto leader of her species. It is, chafing in some area’s.” Warren finally answered.

“Ah, I see.” Yasushi leaned back into his chair. “Has she told them that She is not staying?”

Warren shook his head, “No sir. She knows she has to stay. It’s just…. It’s just obvious that she hates the reality of the situation, that I must continue to Delmar. It does not help that Many of her people see our relationship as hurtful. They see us as narrowing the genetic pool from which they can recover.”

Yasushi’s eyes softened slightly in understanding, “Atticus’ research?”

“Almost complete sir, it’s all but certain that the Corth placed Elerian DNA in the Human genome. He believes that We could be the key to the genetic diversity needed to jumpstart their species, but… They don’t know that.” Warren sighed, “It’s all still heavily classified pending the conclusion. Her people don’t know what she has put herself through to ensure accurate data. They just see me as stealing their future, and her as a love struck girl playing at leadership.”

Yasushi nodded, bringing up the progress synopsis on his consol, “It appears that Atticus requires only one further ‘experiment’ before his conclusions can be reached. Do you know what that is?”

Warren shook his head, “Sorry, Sir. I don’t. We are to meet him in his onboard lab after lunch. He’s fastidious about records, I’m sure you will know by the time we leave his office.”

“Hmm,” Yasushi mused, taking a moment to review the update before closing it, “I know this is hard for you. You two have been thrust into quite a bit above your stage in life. Let me know if there is anything I can do. Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

Warren saluted crisply, following Yasushi out to the bridge just in time to watch the small convoy leap into slip space. His feet slowly guided him back to the quarters he shared with Jezz, feeling the shift in gravity as he passed into the Eleri safe parts of the ship. It would be a two month sail to the Elerian homeworld, and Warren was not looking forward to its conclusion. His thoughts were interrupted by raised voices, one of which he was intimately familiar with, coming from around the corner, and Warren accelerated his gate.

“You know we barely have the numbers to survive! Instead of doing your duty, you’re bedding that heavy worlder!” It was the oldest Elerian male, Bregan, flanked by two other Elerians. They had ambushed Jezz against the door to the quarters Warren and her shared.
“Back up Breg, I don’t care that your father was pappa’s top general. This is not the play you want to make right now. I am Warren’s, and that is not changing.” Jezz’s voice was stern, and she noticed Warren arrive around the corner. The smallest shake of her head kept him from barging in. Elerian female leaders were a prickly thing, and because He was not Eleri, she needed to do this on her own. They had talked about it, expecting something like this once the first complaints had been whispered. Jezz was still kicking herself for not spending more time with her people, but she had also been instrumental in the Gate project that promised to bind the galaxy more tightly than ever before.

Breg openly scoffed at Jezz, “A woman, ordering me around? Maybe Your precious Human will have an accident.” He sneered, blatantly reaching for Jezz’s wingtips, “Then maybe You’s search for a proper m… UGH!” Warren winced as he heard the tale tale cracking of bone. Jez had slapped away Bren’s outstretched hand before driving her fist into his side. She had underestimated her power, having lived for over a year in various gravities that exceed that of her homeworld, and Bren doubled over with eyes wide as he fell to a knee. He clutched his side, glaring at Jezzaria, “Bitch! I’ll have you brought up on charges! Let’s see your precious human get you out of an assault charges, with witnesses.” Bren sputtered, and his two friends nodded angrily.

“Go ahead, but I do not think you will be successful.” Jezz pointed up to the corner of the corridor opposite Warren, “All hallways are rigged for video and audio. Every threat you have made was logged in the ships computer the moment you puked it out of your pathetic mouth.” Warren had to stifle the chuckle that threatened to escape his lips at the pure vitriol in Jezz’s ton. “As for witnesses, you can come on over, hun.”

Warren put on severe expression, locking eyes with Bregan even as the young mans eyes bugged out of his head. “My husband has been watching for quite a while and would make an excellent witness.” Jezz’s smug expression nearly broke Warrens facade as he crossed his arms in front of the three.

“Hmm, threatening the murder of a Naval officer.. Attempted assault on a reigning monarch… Getting recorded doing so, not a good look.” Warren rumbled, and Breg spat at his feet.

“Fuck you.” Bren spat, “If you believe that to be true, why did you wait for your woman to fight instead of protecting her, coward.”

Warren openly laughed in the boy’s face, “you assume my woman needed saving from you. She’s soared on Luna and Conquered the gravity on Ceres.” Warren paused as a profoundly contemplative expression washed over the three boy’s faces, “What makes you think you were anything close to a threat to MY mate.” Warren growled the last part, making the miscreants take an involuntary step back, “Now get out of here. And get that rib checked out, I heard it break from over there.”

The three Elerian boys scrambled down the hallway, unable to flee on wing because of the narrow space. Warren waited for them to round the corner, and felt Jezz collapse into him almost instantly after. Warren quickly opened their door and pulled her in with him, “Hey, hey, hey. Shhhh” He soothed rubbing her down patch between the base of her wings. She melted into him, but continued shaking for a moment. “Their gone, it’s ok now.”

Jezz took a long shakey breath, “I… I don’t know what to do…. My people are so scared… and I can’t tell them that we need Humans to recover our numbers. I… I don’t know what to do…”

Warren kept rubbing her back, “I’ll have lunch brought here. Breg doesn’t need to see that he shook you.” And Jezz nodded, and a few minutes later a pair of cold cut sandwiches arrived. The two of them ate, Jezz curled up in Warren’s lap. Violence was not a natural decision for her, and it had been the first time she had struck anyone outside her occasional sparring with Warren. Warren partially blamed himself for her not knowing her own strength. He always allowed her to strike at him as hard as she could, knowing that she was incapable of hurting him with her bare hands, and she had gained enough speed and technique to occasionally get through his admittedly average hand to hand skills. He had still not taught her to shoot Kinetics. He worried that she would be simply too fragile to shatter bones should she get behind one of his pistols, or even his rimfire rifle.

They were just beginning to leave when a knock at the door interrupted their clean up. And Warren opened the door, his face a serious mask as he prepared to deal with more of the… “Atticus?” He asked as the Androgenous Corth stepped into their quarters. “I thought we were meeting you in your lab?”

“You are correct Warren. However, after word of Jezzaria’s little incident spread across the ship, I thought it best to have this conversation somewhere more comfortable.” Atticus stated in his usual analytical tone, waving to the seating in the pair’s living quarters. Warren raised an eyebrow and the uncharacteristic catering to circumstances from Atticus and settled onto one side of the queen bed in the corner. Their compartment was spacious considering Excelsiors size, but still lacked any major furnishing outside of the bed, a place for clothes and a chair for the desk which held the computer console. Jezz sat down next to him, and Atticus pulled the desk chair to face them.
“What’s this about Att.” Warren asked, picking up on the small tells that told him that Atticus was stalling.

Atticus flashed a smile to Warren before responding, “I’ve completed my research, at least, as much of it I can without more direct observation, and I am unwilling to ask that with so few Elerians left.” He began, holding up a hand to Jezz who was already opening her mouth to protest, “I have already found some remarkable discoveries regarding you. As you are probably aware, being able to adapt to Luna, and even Ceres should not be possible for your species” he continued looking a Jezz as he spoke, “None of your people, who tried anything like that before have succeeded.”

“But Atticus,” Jezz asked in confusion, “I’m fine… I’m better than fine. Warren and I spent a weekend on Luna to say goodbye to his parents. I don’t have to be tossed to fly there anymore.” Atticus raised an eyebrow and Warren nodded in confirmation.

Atticus seemed to freeze for just a split second, as if adding the information to something before his eyes focused on the two of them again, “I’m impressed, but not entirely surprised, Jezz. You’re ability to adapt has an explanation, I simply needed to prove my original findings from Ceres.” Atticus leaned forward slightly, “My dear, you are an anomaly because of your relationship with Warren. I’ve been told that I am too direct, so I will attempt to be… less so” Atticus gave Warren a semi sharp look as he snorted, but continued, “Both of you already know this first part. My people, many many eons ago, used the fledgling Human species as a library of genetic markers meant to be able to save those species and cultures wiped out by the Cataclysm. What I have learned is that Humanity took many of those genetic markers and evolved with them as their own. Almost nothing of what we added to Humanity’s genetic code is how we left it, but some of our library is still capable of interacting with the origin species. That is what has happened with you Jezz.”

Jezz looked shocked for a moment, but then returned to her confused expression, “But, we haven’t done any of those experiments yet. You told me they were too dangerous.” Warren rubbed her shoulders but said nothing, simply waiting for Atticus to explain himself.

Atticus nodded, “I did, and they are; but I failed to account for something that was already happening naturally. To put it… delicately… Your body has been naturally been exposed those same Genetic markers, including the Elerian ones, in significant quantities since you and Warren chose to become life mates. Because those genetic markers include a hormonal component to them, and because of the extra strain your body had been put through on luna and ceres; your body has reacted to them, using them as a template for survival. Your bone mass has tripled since you travelled to Ceres, and your Muscle mass and composition has dramatically changed as well.”

“But how… Oh..” Warren’s face reddened as his mind finally put the pieces together, and Jezz’s cheeks flushed a bright blue upon her own realization. “But that would mean…”

Atticus shook his head, “No, luckily being able to monitor Jezzaria’s health has led me to a much safer way to help jumpstart the Elerian species, but there is a catch… I believe that this level of artificial genetic hybridization can only be done during the embryonic stages of Elerian life to be 100 percent safe, but I wont know until I study a….. natural hybrid.” Jezz’s breath caught in her chest as her eyes widened but Atticus raised his hands quickly, “I cannot ask this… but I know you would be angry with me if I hid this fact from you. I know the two of you desire children, and I will not lie. It is still a great risk. I’ve learned that the two of you prefer to make your own decisions, so I want you to do so with the most recent information. I’ll leave everything here for you to review.” Leaving a data stick on the desk, Atticus stood. He began stepping toward the door as the stunned couple stayed where they were, “I’ll give you some space. I am sorry for the heaviness of my findings.” Atticus opened the door and stepped out.
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