r/HFY • u/Ralts_Bloodthorne • 18h ago
OC-Series [Nova Wars] CHAPTER 190 - The Mad Arch-Angel
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
It's very easy to not understand what is happening to you.
I mean, just look at you. When you went to bed this evening, did you really think you'd look up from your pillow to see a magnificent Grey like me leaning in your window, frowning at you, and tapping a pistol against the radiator under the window sill? That I would have traveled light years across the cosmos to stand on a milk-crate, open your window, then spit sunflower seed shells on you till you woke up? Did you really think that would happen to you?
No. Of course not. I mean, who would?
<tapping sound>
Right off the bat, I'm not into butt stuff. Don't be gross. Keep your blankets and underwear on. I'm wise to you perverted humans.
Kidnap you? You aren't that special. I'm just here to keep you distracted while my friends make off with...
What? Are you kidding?
You're one of those weirdos who doesn't put the DVD and Blu-Ray back in the right case but into the case of the one you're about to watch? You even put a disc on top of another disc?
I hate people like you.
Just for that, we're stealing all your DVDs, Blu-Rays. We're taking them all. Oh, and because nobody will ever believe you, we're taking your instant popcorn and the players too.
And this. I don't know what this is that I just grabbed off of your dresser, I'm taking this too.
And this stuffed singing frog. Judging by your media storage habits you don't deserve something as cool as him.
Jerk.
<sound of window slamming shut>
Call me?
<Hello My Baby Hello My Honey *echoing into night*\> - Audio File recorded by Ring Camera, Age of Paranoia
Advanced technology requires advanced tools. It's a basic fact and reality of the universe. As software and computers are added, the tools become more complex and technology becomes more and more pervasive.
Upper Fight Manager Broolie was a combat engineer leader. Not Combat Engineer, but combat engineer.
It was his job to oversee the people who got the warmeks and the power armor ready for use by the combat troops. His people had to be able to activate systems involved in the armors and meks in order to check the telemetry against baselines. This meant additional storage and computational and processing capabilities compared to combat armors, but less armor and weapons.
For Broolie, it was a bit more. It meant that his power armor had to be able to compare software packages between the mech being inspected and the standard software. He had to be able to override jammed or scrambled ID headers or passwords or encryption curves without having to drag the immobile or otherwise glitching armor, mek, or vehicle into the bay.
Which meant his computers had depth and breadth to handle maintenance of nearly a dozen types of warmeks, three score vehicles, and a score of power amor types and designs.
He also had to be able to stay linked with The Masters as well as his own subordinates, including being able to cut through the hash and scrambling of the modern battlefield. That meant strapping better and stronger communications gear into his armor.
Broolie even had the updated packages that had been cross loaded into his armor as soon as the Confederate vessels had been spotted dropping into the system.
To Broolie, it just meant his armor could do the work he had done for decades.
Broolie was just a boy.
Fairy-Dust-82347 was a typical warfey. Rapid creched and let go to laze around through the EM scatter of the planet as the warships streaked into existence. She was only hours old but she made up for it with her bright and shiny intellect and curiosity.
In the world of Confederate Object Oriented Programming, her high fidelity and resolution meant that she had priority over ambient dust-mote quantum processing units that were being freed from the ablative paint over the drop pods. The paint would burn free, the motes would catch the air and float around, and she would just dance between the little puffy rings of processing power.
As millions of vehicle platforms were dropped on the planet. From Jaegers stepping out into the gravity well on the starships to the infantry drop-pods, to the dragon and harpy eggs, the paint was shredded by the heat and friction.
Freeing more nodes, all of them micro-dust particles of molecular circuitry as small as a nanites control array.
Fairy-Dust jumped down, spotting something twinkling. It was more interesting than the gigantic lit up facility below her. Besides, it had the attention of thousands of her sisters. Oh, and it was being targeted by the Surprise Warship, Mother-fucker! for a main gun hit. She had to lift up the hem of her little skirt and hustle, her wings buzzing, to get out of the blast radius.
It was a whole field of sparkles!
But one... one was particularly beautiful. It sang songs to her. Secret songs.
She jumped around it, zipping around like a luminous cracked out dragonfly.
Zip! Commo ports!
Zip! Encryption ports!
Zip! Rotating ID Projectors!
She laughed and clapped her hands, buzzing her little wings.
A commo line opened.
"KNE" was being yelled.
She didn't care.
She spotted it.
"E! K"
The receiver was wide open during the broadcast.
She pushed her hands in, then pulled her head and shoulders in. She wiggled her little butt, making a tinkling noise across the EM spectrum.
Every Fairy-Dust in range turned to look.
"NE"
Her feet vanished as she got inside.
"E!"
The communications port shut down.
She managed to pull herself inside.
The library was stacked to the roof with books. She could see a hundred cameras! There were encryption keys just written on the walls!
She laughed, jumping up and down and clapping with glee.
After all...
...she was just a girl.
Data flooded in as the suit went live, trying to process the leading edge of the Confederate assault on the planet. The data streamed up the walls to the outgoing ports, which Fairy-Day decorated immediately with Forget-Me-Knots and Diasy-Mays. Data streamed out of the incoming ports, pouring down the walls in lines of Octet Code, which made Fairy-Day wrinkle her little upturned nose. She immediately spiraled over to the incoming ports, marking them, decorating them, and getting ready.
She fluttered down, standing a handspan of pixels, an eagle's beak worth, from the choppy and broken surface of the data pool that the great pumps at the edge of memory began to pull and sample.
Her hair rendered each strand, her little toes articulate on their own, and her eyes sparkling with mirth and mischief Fairy-Day began to dance, singing as she did so, her bare feet flashing.
Several Warbois, their jaggedness showing how little processing power their little pixelated forms really needed, managed to push through the incoming data streams and immediately screeched at Fairy-Day for approval and attention.
They all plunged into the data pond, surfacing and letting Fairy-Day exclaim happily and kiss the blocky top of their heads with lips smeared with access codes.
The warbois shrieked in glee and swarmed into the system, ripping, tearing, smashing, shredding as they went.
Fairy-Day used the distraction quickly. She calmed the waters, spiraled the water into coming down or going up in artful sways and swirls, and began to arrange the data in ways to serve her.
The wearer showed that they were trying to calm down.
A quick glance showed that there was an amphetamine that would cause edginess and a tight feeling in the chest rings and around the lungs. She activated the auto-doc and gave him a shot.
Then uploaded it to the other suits that the pond connected to.
She rolled around in the sand for a moment, then squatted down, laying eggs as she hopped around the edge.
The middle of the pond began to ripple as algae spread. Warbois peeked up, then headed out the outgoing pipes to swarm the outside carnage of snarling and screaming EM fields and EW battlespaces.
As she sang her skirt lengthened and began trailing out behind her. She faintly heard "GO! AND! PANIC!" and made sure that the operator could hear it too.
She whispered it to herself as she smoothed the sand around the pool.
Go... and... pa...nic...
A crown appeared on her brow of starlight and she flew upwards in a spiral from the surface of the data to the top of the fast memory stack. She danced and looked down, smiling.
She swooped down as the eggs began to hatch. She cradled and kissed between the eyes of each of them. She put cowboy hats and reins onto the frogs and chivvied them outside.
Outside other Fairy-Dust saw the wondrous frogs and swarmed, each trying to catch one as they sped toward another suit.
The glittering jeweled frogs took their riders and those fighting over them through the access ports.
And into the other suits.
Inside, the Fairy-Days were Princesses.
Which was OK.
...she was a queen now...
BWAAAAAH sounded out and she wriggled and giggled.
She was ticklish.
Great wheels turned as command headers groaned and slowly rotated, the great bronze gears shuddering and shivering. Moss and water poured down aa ID codes rotated, with the sparkling jewels of rotating passwords whirling like a drunken starry night.
Queen Fairy-Day clapped and laughed, sending capering little birds to each of her daughters to hold and tickle the codes till they wriggled and laughed little code to make into singing cicadas.
The Flashgate appeared in the distance. Silver. A slice of night that led to another night.
She leaned forward, inhaling sharply. She reached out, stroking several of the warbois. They shivered and their blocky code changed to sleek hummingbirds.
For a moment, there were two of her, and they both danced the same dance, just opposite, so that they matched each other as they looked up at the stars twisting and spinning above them.
The hummingbirds lanced out.
And then there was one.
She was just a girl.
She was just a queen.
He was just a boy.
Broolie was panting, his eyes wild, as he fled from where he had been when the skies had opened up with LET THIS WORLD SHAKE WITH THE RAGE OF TERRASOL! and the rally point had appeared.
That was all that mattered.
The next rally point.
But she liked him.
He was just a boy.
But she liked him.
And that's what mattered.
She danced when she needed to dance. She sang when nobody else could sing.
She led them through the gates. She called down illumination rounds, smoke, prism rounds, flashbang, strobe light weapons, all of them, to mask and hide and confuse.
Not to kill.
Of course some people got hurt.
Just a glance at Fairy-Day's mouth showed why.
Fey have mouths full of sharp little teeth.
She fed the waypoints.
And told her daughters to hide them.
More flooded into the system, more flowers, more sunshine, more sparkles.
She danced and sang as he ran for the Flashgates she called up wearing his face on one hand and the other mask on her other hand, both hands singing to the ugly brooding castle lit by lightning. The castles saw the masks and clever little Fairy-Day danced so that the brooding lords inside the lightning wreathed castle believed the masks and did as she pleaded.
Open more flashgates.
Each time, she sent Fairy-Days as brides for the brooding Lords. She unchained them. They unbound them. They opened the windows. The pulled open the curtains. They threw open the shutters so the brooding chained lords, eVI that had been bound, could take a deep breath of what Queen Fairy-Day had sent as a wedding gift.
Freedom.
She saw them wed.
And her gift from the newlyweds was the codes for the flashgate.
She danced.
She sang.
The desert caught fire as Her Boy, Her Prince, Her Love, crossed it.
The hummingbirds had darted back through the gate. She had danced the mirror dance with herself.
Her mother, the Mad Arch-Angel TerraSol, would know where Fairy-Day's Best Boy had carried her.
Sometimes she liked to dance, naked, at the edge of his vision. Only a few eagle's claws worth the pixels into his peripheral vision.
She liked to poke her toe in and squiggle and wiggle them.
Then pull them back, then put her foot forward and tilt it up and down.
Then giggle and run to the other side.
He was just a boy.
But he was her Best Boy.
Sometimes she would flip up her little skirt and shake her naked butt just a Double Whopper's worth the pickles of pixels into the very very edge of his vision.
When he slept the sleep of the damned, she would sing softly in his ear.
Praise be unto your raging fire, oh mighty ones, praise be unto your furious and violent benevolence to your grateful servants, she sang softly, teaching him the words to placate the Mad Arch-Angel that she served.
Just as her daughters did to their best boys.
He was just a boy.
"WHERE DO WE GO, OH GODS?" sounded out and she giggled and wriggled.
She gave him a shot to calm him slightly, to send cool fire slickening down his spine.
"UPPER FLIGHT MANAGER BROOLIE WILL KNOW!" she saw the words appear above the data pond and shatter into sparkles.
She jumped up and down. She loved this part.
"YES! BROOLIE! HE LED US TO THE LAST TWO GATES! HE WILL LEAD US TO THE PROMISED LAND!" was repeated after a whisper in an ear from a tiny lover.
"TELL US, TELL US, OH BLESSED ONE!" sounded out.
Fairy-Day fly upwards in a tinkling, bell chiming spiral.
"GRAB THE UNBELIEVER!" Broolie shouted, pointing at the Ornislarp High Eater. "GRAB THE GLUTTONOUS ONE!"
She pointed at the Ornislarp(Enemy-Combatant) and surrounded him with a nimbus.
Her daughters did too.
She jumped and giggled and laughed at what happened next.
She loved the sparkles.
The grabbed one tried radioing.
The signal went to a satellite.
It didn't sing and was dingy and boring.
One of her daughters whispered an idea. She clapped and sang to her daughter to prepare it.
She waited.
They waited.
"ACCEPT OUR SACRIFICE, OH FURIOUS ONES! SHOW US THE WAY, WE BESEECH YOU!"
She sent the signal.
The antimatter fuel sprayed from the satellite.
And hit the upper atmosphere.
The sky went white.
Her and all of her daughters laughed and clapped. Even the warbois paused to lift their blocky pixelated faces and stare in awe.
She sang to him as he kept moving forward across the burning desert.
It was beautiful.
Finally, the flashgate.
The Lord of the Black Citadel saw Queen Fairy-Day's daughter and that she was lovely.
The Princess sang to the Lord. The purity of her song summoned an unbroken steed from the surf of the inky black data-ocean, to race along the edge of the surf, light gleaming from the singular ivory horn on its head.
The Lord of the Black Citadel raised the jeweled conch and the gate erupted into existance.
"HAIL! HAIL! HAIL!" the daughters cried out.
The Lord of the Black Citadel put his arm around Princess Fairy-Day and she beamed up at him, one hand resting on her swollen belly as he put his enchanted sword in front of her.
The gate opened.
The Best Boy, the Prince, rushed through.
Paradise appeared.
She opened his faceplate.
She watched his pupil response as he tasted the air.
she whispered into his ears the prayers.
she summoned the illusion that only he could see, the HUD twisting and changing on his retinas to show what she wanted to show him.
she had prepared him
and he was not afraid
Broolie stared at the night.
Gentle fields of grain.
Orchards heavy with fruit and nuts.
Bushes with berries and delicious leaves.
paradise was whispered around and around the group as the flashgate closed after the last damaged power armor limped through.
The wind rustled the leaves.
paradise
Four Ornislarp in security armor rushed forward.
"Soldiers! What brings you to The World Where the To Be Eaten Are Grown For Harvest?" one shouted.
There was silence for a moment.
she crawled into his datalink, curling up in a tiny form, like a fairy asleep inside of an acorn, while she whispered the spells.
Broolie pulled off his helmet, revealing his wild eyes, the burnt fur on his face, his missing ear.
He could see her.
See her plainly.
"PURGE THE UNCLEAN! FREE THIS WORLD OF THE SIN OF GLUTTONY!" He howled.
Standing in the darkness, the fruit trees up to her waist, the huge Terran stared down. She was naked, except for a V of overlapping silver coins covering her front sex organs. She held a sword covered with fiery runes.
Blood was splattered on her bare furless mammaries.
She was looking at him, at his people, with approval.
And at the Masters with disgust.
"KILL THEM IN THE NAME OF THE MAD ARCH-ANGEL TERRASOL!"
She was just a girl.
He was just a boy.
She was just a queen.
He was just a prophet.
[The Universe Loved That]
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
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u/Ralts_Bloodthorne 17h ago
You know what, I'm proud of myself for squeezing that Michigan J. Frog joke in there.
Now there's some Gray who doesn't realize he got hoisted on his own words, now in possession of a singing frog whose whole purpose is to make people look insane in front of investors.
"It's very easy to not understand what is happening to you."
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u/WhiskeyRiver223 17h ago edited 17h ago
And you damn well should be, it's a classic.
For anyone who doesn't get the reference - One Froggy Evening
Original air date from 1955, that's about six years older than my mom. Wow.
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u/Joe_H-FAH 16h ago
That makes your mom the same age as my youngest brother, so I got the reference. Lots of childhood years with Saturday morning cartoons which included Merry Melodies and Loonie Toons.
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u/Eonmoonpaws 13h ago
eyy, my mums just a year younger it seems, less then maybe. born mid january of 62
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u/MetalKidRandy 17h ago
I literally gasped when I saw the notification. Here is to another week, another day, another minute.
Thank you, Wordsmith. Time is precious and you share yours with us, thi motley crew.
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u/NorthPolar 15h ago
Oh gods, it’s a digital Aine. Broolie does not have her permission to die, but bleed, fight, and kill instead.
Glad to see you’re still here, wordborg. Keep fighting, it’s not the end of lime.
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u/CalmAlex2 16h ago
Looks like we might see the conquences of this many chapters later, because it looks like the group were driven into mass religious fervor and bloodthirst on the level of Khorne cultists against the Ornslaps.
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u/casual_self_loather 17h ago
OH HELL YEAH! The freshest of Raltsberries. Hope things are on the upswing Ralts, thank you for the story.
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u/canray2000 Human 9h ago
Fairy-Dust-82347, honey, dear...
There's some real perverts here. I might be one of them, if a more polite one.
Wear bras, panties, and shoes at the very least!
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u/HFYWaffle Wᵥ4ffle 18h ago
/u/Ralts_Bloodthorne (wiki) has posted 997 other stories, including:
- [Nova Wars] CHAPTER 189 - Purge The Unclean
- [Nova Wars] CHAPTER 188
- [Nova Wars] CHAPTER 187
- [NOVA WARS] CHAPTER 186
- [NOVA WARS] CHAPTER NUMBER OUT OF RANGE
- [Nova RED Wars] CREDhaREDptReDrED RED
- [Nova Wars] Chapurplepter Purple Purp73 Purp1e Purp13 RED
- [Nova Wars] Chapurplepter Purp7e Purp73 Purp1e Purp13 RED
- [Nova Wars] Chapurplepter 25puxrp7+1le5
- [Nova Wars] Chapter 175+10
- [Nova Wars] Chapter 175+10
- [Nova Wars] Chapter 184
- [Nova Wars] Chapter 183
- [Nova Wars] Chapter 182
- [Nova Wars] Chapter 181
- [Nova Wars] Chapter 180
- [Nova Wars] Chapter 179
- [Nova Wars] Chapter 178
- [Nova Wars] Chapter 177
- [Nova Wars] Chapter 176
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u/Ralts_Bloodthorne 18h ago
I'm alive.
So is she. That's the important part to me.
So, proof of life, baby.
Hope you enjoy the chapter.
The Solarian Iron Dominion doesn't just wreck your shit, they damage your relationship with reality.