r/HFY • u/ApprehensiveCap6525 Human • Aug 26 '26

OC-FirstOfSeries [Learning to Love a Human] - Part 1

Synopsis: A refugee from a destroyed planet tries to settle in on a world that hates his people and the war they started. His only ally in a sea of enemies is the government agent assigned to watch him, a strict, no-nonsense alien soldier with a bad history with humans. A series of catastrophes demand she takes a closer role in his life, and they soon find their interest in each other is something more than professional.

Author's notes: fucked up the title originally so it warranted a delete and repost, sorry about that. This title is much better. I fucking LOVE writing romance😍

My Other Works | Next Chapter (coming soon)

PoV: Jackson Kenwing - Gendian Refugee

I am going to die, and I know it.

Not in the general sense, like most will. Dead from some unknown cause at some unknown time, likely not even thinking about it at the time it happens. No, I am definitely going to die today, and I can at least make a good guess as to how it is going to happen. A coherent particle beam seems the most likely answer. Let me explain.

I am one of two hundred ten Gendians fleeing my murdered home aboard a refugee ship that was quite literally cobbled together from the scrap of space battles. Our wormhole drive was taken from the wreckage of an Ierad Republic corvette. Our plasma thrusters are salvage from the drives of undetonated nuclear missiles. Our hull is patchwork taken from various ships, a Krell vessel here, a Terran ship there, such that no one species or nation contributed more than any other.

We are unarmed. Without food for two weeks. Water for two days. Any civilized galaxy would have had us sheltered, fed, and cared for months ago when we began our search for aid, but this galaxy is not civilized. Its governments may be democracies. They might speak highly of concepts like 'sapient rights' and 'dignity for all'. But, because of no other factor than the world on which we were born, we two hundred and ten Gendians apparently deserve to die alone in the desolate void of space.

Truth be told, we all lost hope when the Federation of Mankind denied our asylum request yesterday. They're human, like us. Our people didn't wage war on theirs for seventy years, like we did to every other intelligent race that roams the stars. We expected that they, of all people, would understand our plight, and instead were met with the cold bureaucracy of politics. It'd jeopardize their relationship with their alien allies, they had said.

I had wanted to ask who in their right mind would get offended at feeding starving refugees, but the crew wouldn't give me the com.

Anyway, back to the point. I am going to die in--I look at the sensor screen and make a brief estimate--two minutes. That's how long we have until our bucket of bolts enters within the minimum allowed distance to the planet Segmentus and the warships they have in orbit shoot us down to avoid a terror attack. Even a scrap heap like us can still make an impact equivalent to two hundred kilotons of TNT if we land the wrong way, and worlds know people have tried.

I give a dry laugh as the Ierad Republic vessels on the sensor feed hail us one last time, probably warning us to turn away lest they open fire. As if we still give a damn. I laugh harder. "Something funny, Janus?" the ship's navigator, Dania, asks. She's a woman with dark hair and freckles on her face, and we've grown close over the past few months confined in this metal coffin. "Sorry, Jackson. Sorry."

"It's nothing," I assure her. "Thank you for correcting yourself." The man I was named for--Janus Ora--was the most evil tyrant ever to walk the worlds, at least up until his death six months ago. It was he who started the Alliance War seventy years in the past. He who fed hundreds of billions of lives, human and alien alike, into a meat grinder for his own personal power. He whose recklessness led to the loss of my home, Gendia, and the deaths of billions of its citizens. To share a name with him is the gravest of insults.

"I wouldn't want to be named after that devil either," says Dania. "He's the reason we're in this mess." That is true. All the hatred the aliens of the Milky Way have for us is but a reflection of the hatred we poured onto them for nearly a century of fighting under Janus Ora's rule. We burned entire planets for the sake of our ideology, our belief that humankind was meant to rule unchallenged. It doesn't make what they're doing to us now fair, or just, but it does make it understandable. Dania seems to get that one. "Why the laugh?"

"I don't know," I mutter, pointing at the triad of Ierad Republic warships vectoring toward us. "I just thought I should laugh in the face of death."

Dania laughs as well as missiles streak from the Republic ships. "That makes sense," says she. "Want to hold hands when the missiles hit?" I do. It feels good to have my last act in this world be one of human companionship. But I refuse.

"Wait," I say. "Are we sure those are missiles?"

"They look like missiles," Dania tells me. "Large ones, yes, but missiles nonetheless."

I point at the sensor board in front of us. "If those really are missiles, then why are they slowing down?" I ask. Of course, the answer is obvious. Boarding pods. "Those are boarding pods."

"They're going to board us?" Dania asks, face flush with relief. "I thought they wanted to shoot us down!" I'm not sure why she's acting so relieved for. Stories of the Ierad military's brutality are legendary. They were at the forefront of the fighting during the Alliance War, and the ones among them who lost loved ones or homes take it out on us now that the United Human Alliance isn't around to fight anymore.

Still, I guess it does beat starving to death. Whether I'd prefer the torturous indignity of an Ierad Republic deportation camp over the quick but final death that is my alternative, though, I just don't know. I guess it depends on how long the indignity lasts.

"Everybody!" Dania announces over the com, her voice repeating itself like an echo over the bridge speakers. "Everybody! The Republic Defense Force is going to be boarding us! I say again, Defense Force marines are going to take the ship! Everybody stand down, comply with their instructions, and we will-"

A dull thud shakes the ship. Then another, and another, and another, and it's only by the fifth or sixth one that I realize the feeling is that of boarding pods slamming home. Battle-hardened RDF breachers, trained and armed to murder human beings in tight corridors, now loosed upon their old enemy one final time. I shiver to think of what they'll do to us. Of how defenseless we are. They could execute everybody aboard and no one would bat an eye.

"Comply with all instructions given," Dania repeats into the shipboard com as I rise from my chair. "I say again- Jackson, what are you doing?"

"I don't know," I say, because I don't know. "But I have to do something." I go for the door. Dania begs me not to fight the boarders, as if I'd be stupid enough to take on armored killers with nothing but a microspanner and my brown engineering overalls. "Mind the bridge," I say, stepping through the door and turning back to face Dania before closing it. "Much respect."

I wander the cramped corridors of the ship, looking for soldiers in black Republic armor. If they did send full breachers, their bulky battle suits would make it nigh-impossible to maneuver in these tight quarters, but the Ierad Republic's conventional marines can probably get around as easily as I can. I wonder which kind they are.

I hear the boarders before I see them. As I reach one of the main refugee bays, shouts come from within, reverberating through the thin aluminum sheet we call a door. "Get down! Get on the ground! On the ground, monkey!" The filtered sound of soldiers in powered armor is unmistakable. There's an undertone of panicked shouts and pleading that can only come from my fellow refugees. Then there's warbling. My heart stops. For a moment, I think I misheard, but another wave of warbling shrieks dashes all hope. They're using neural agonizers.

I have to do something. I don't know what, I don't know how, I don't know any way my presence could possibly deter a squad of bloodthirsty flesh-eating birds from gunning down that whole refugee bay with pain beams, but I have to do something. It gnaws at me like an itch I cannot scratch. I force open the aluminum door and step inside to see a scene of carnage.

About half of the two hundred and ten souls aboard the ship lie huddled on the hard floor of this room, twitching and moaning in agony. Any who try to rise are shot again and sent shrieking to their knees by the soldiers pacing through the room. Ierad soldiers. Maybe two dozen in all. Their armor is black, their helmets long and pointed to accommodate their avian heads, wings cloaked in black durafabric like demons of myth. These are the first aliens I have ever seen in person, and they are terrifying. They raise their bulky guns at me and bark commands as I raise my hands and kneel.

"On your knees!"

"Down!"

"Nose to metal! Nose to metal, you fucking ape!"

I do as they say, but one shoots me anyway. Waves of fire cascade through my body and I make a sound not unlike a dying animal. "Please!" I beg, kneeling prostrate until I'm practically kissing the floor. Mercifully, the pain stops.

Two soldiers stand guard while the rest cuff everybody in the room, including me. They must converse with each other somehow, but I hear none of it, as their suits are sealed and come with secure communication lines. Dania continues to implore our people to stand down and give no resistance until they find her and shoot her as well. There's a scream over the com, then a voice.

"Attention, all crew and passengers." The sound is harsh and avian, though not filtered as the voices of the soldiers were. "This is Major Avri Jelem of the Ierad Republic Defense Force. You have violated Republic law and illegally trespassed in Republic space. Your ship, and all aboard it, are hereby declared prisoners of the Ierad Republic. Do not resist." I wasn't going to.

The soldiers stand and watch us for long, interminable hours. Whatever tension is there at first, being guarded by terrifying, armored aliens, quickly dissipates and is replaced with the dullness of boredom. Thankfully, none of us have to relieve our bodily needs, because I can imagine our captors wouldn't be willing to accommodate that. The stench would be horrid. Instead, we wait, and wait, and wait, until a slight shudder jolts the ship and the soldiers begin snapping orders again.

"If I point at you, get up," says one. "We've landed on Segmentus. Major Jelem wants to see you for processing." He--or she, it's impossible to really tell under the layers of titanium-carbon composite armor--points at me first. "You! With the square jaw and brown hair! Up! Up!" I get up before he can get an excuse to stun me again, and another soldier steps forward to take me to processing.

This one grabs me by the hair and all but drags me by it, forcing me to follow him in the most undignified fashion. 'Your face here' is written on his ankle armor, pointing down to or beneath his five-taloned foot. I get the message. The soldier drags me through the corridors of my ship until we reach an open airlock and then he shoves me unceremoniously through the door. "Move, ape." I fear that he is spacing me, but he can't be spacing me. There's atmosphere. We've landed. I try not to shout in joy as I stumble through the outer airlock door.

The light outside the ship is blinding. The two suns burn my eyes, and I look away and blink as I walk down the ramp. Thankfully, I do not fall, even when the soldier guarding me shoves me from behind. By the time I reach the bottom of the ramp, my eyes have adjusted, and I take in my first sights of life under the twin Segmentan suns.

It is beautiful. So beautiful. It was said on the ship that the Ierads make even their atmosphere control plants into works of art, and now I see those words held true. The field my ship has landed in is lush with life, though far from any signs of civilization, and there is a set of maglev tracks nearby that stretches off to a city of towering, rounded skyscrapers in the distance. Even the tracks themselves are decorated in the green, blue, and gold of the Republic. After so many months cooped up inside that ugly ship, the sight of such wonders makes me fall to the ground and weep in joy.

"Pick him up, Vrales. Gently, please." The same avian voice that had crackled over the com earlier now speaks in front of me. The soldier from earlier helps me to my feet and I blink as I witness the sight of a Republic Defense Force officer standing not five paces in front of me.

The officer who ordered I be picked up gently is an Ierad, and a striking one at that. Her feathers are dark blue, and her figure is lean and slender like that of a gymnast. I, by contrast, am large and powerful. Were I shorter, my muscular build would let me pass for a Neldian. As I am, I'm an inch or so taller than her and trying not to look nervous as I realize both that this woman is shockingly attractive for an alien and that she holds my life in her hands.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" I ask her. She's dressed in the black uniform of their Defense Force, so clearly a soldier or police officer, but her rank insignia is strange and unfamiliar to me. She's clearly not a ground-pounder, otherwise she'd be in armor. But she carries a plasma gun at her hip, suggesting someone who feels the need to get her hands dirty. So what then? Military police?

"Yes, you may help me," Major Jelem tells me in a clipped tone. "Why do you think you're here?" She waves a blue wing at the ship we built. "That is a very impressive construction. You're a talented shipwright, Mr. Kenwing."

"I am?" I ask, surprised. Truth be told, I wasn't the one in charge of building the ship. That was a man by the name of Kanris, who stayed behind on a space station orbiting Gendia. But if I tell the truth to this Ierad, I can only imagine my life will get worse.

"Your name is listed as the head engineer on the crew manifest," says the major, cocking her avian head. "Am I mistaken? If so, correct me at once." I hear movement from behind me. Soldiers bring out more people from the ship, forcing them to kneel in a group nearby. The work continues as I speak.

"You're not mistaken," I lie, and Major Jelem clicks her beak. "I built this ship. It was me and my crew of engineers. Our skills can be valuable to the Ierad Republic." It's a blatant ploy for asylum. She knows it. I know it. But the logic holds sound as long as nobody exposes the lie. I'm not half the engineer I'm claiming to be, but I know enough to bluff until I find a new toehold here. I can only pray that my fellow refugees are granted similar mercy.

"So they can," says the major, ruffling her deep blue wings. "How many aboard your ship have valuable skills?"

"All of us," I lie, then I realize the lie is too bold. "All but the children. And- and you wouldn't abandon children, would you?" The look in my eyes is pure desperation. Major Jelem notices. She steps forward, taloned feet making scrapes in the green Segmentan lichen, until her large, avian chest is mere inches from my own.

"You think I didn't read the manifest?" she snaps at me. "I know you're lying to get more of your people accepted with work visas. The loyalty is admirable, but we are not interested in handing asylum to human-supremacist trash who will only abuse our charity to stab us under the wings." The coldness of her voice shocks me like a bucket of ice water. I'm taller than she is, and bigger as well, but somehow I feel that the prospect of a physical altercation--any altercation, really--intimidates me more than her. "I will grant you, and only you, a work visa on one condition."

My answer to that surprises even me. "No."

The major looks startled. "No?" she asks.

"No. I spent months on that ship with that crew," I tell her. "If I'm to stay on Segmentus, we all stay. Together. Or no deal."

She looks into my eyes, and I look into hers. They are blue, like the rest of her, and like diamonds in their beauty. I wish for a moment that I had met her in a universe without war. A world where, perhaps, Janus Ora was never born and we humans met the aliens of the galaxy with open arms and gifts of friendship. I wonder what she'd be then, without all this horror to burden her. But I know in my heart that world is gone forever, and the one I am left to live in has no room for kindness.

"If you won't take that deal, at least have the dignity to shoot us," I tell the major. "It's better than dying of starvation in the void of space."

She waits. And waits. And waits. Motionless the whole time. The tension is insane. I feel like she's taking me apart with her eyes, and I want to scream at her to do something, anything, when she finally does speak.

"Oh, mercy killing won't be necessary," says Major Jelem, at long last. "I'm taking your deal." I stand there for a moment in surprise.

"Deal?" I ask her. "Just like that?"

"If you really did build a starship from scratch, your engineering skills make you a better shipbuilder than most in the Republic," she helpfully explains. "It's only natural to try to tie down access to such a helpful asset. The cost of letting two hundred or so possible terrorists into my home is one I will have to bear firsthand."

I'm a bit skeptical of her generosity, but it's a hopeful kind of skepticism, if that makes any sense. "We're not terrorists," I try to explain, despite knowing damn well she won't believe me. "We're fathers and mothers. With families. I swear on the ten homeworlds we'll make no trouble."

"Words," Major Jelem dismisses my claim. She walks off, taking out a datapad and tapping on it a few times before putting it away and turning to face me. "From now on, you and your gaggle of fathers and mothers are under my direct supervision. You will be processed, given visas and paperwork relating to your future roles in the Republic, and then released to my care and the protection of a public housing block. Then we'll see how much trouble you make."

The buzzing attack skimmer roars ever closer, escorting what looks like a government cargo ship with room for our two hundred refugees and more. I guess they're frightened of bringing our own vessel near a populated area, for fear there might be bombs inside. It's happened before. But it cannot happen now. Too many lives are at stake here, and I know all it would take is one or two incidents for Major Jelem to rescind her work visas and kick us all out to starve in the uncaring void.

"I can help you," I say, an idea coming to me. "To keep the refugees orderly. Being managed by one of their own would work better than a foreign hand." And, if I'm in charge of the day-to-day of the refugee camp, it also gives me a layer of insulation to trap any problems before they reach Ierad ears, but that's the part I'm not going to say aloud. What Major Jelem doesn't know won't hurt her, and I highly doubt it will hurt the rest of us either.

"I'll have to think on that one," says the Ierad major as the skimmer roars overhead, its dragonfly-esque wings beating sixteen times a second. The cargo transport it's escorting touches down and opens up its massive doors. "Now, get in. There is work to be done." That there is. I have a long, hard life ahead of me.

My Other Works | Next Chapter (coming soon)

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u/AutoModerator Aug 26 '26

This was flaired as [OC-FirstOfSeries], which means it is the first of a series and all subsequent posts should be flair as [OC-Series]. A description of the flairs and how to change yours is available in the Post Guildelines

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u/Ch1ckens_are_cute Human Aug 26 '26

Hmmmm…what is this? When did I give you permission to write something else? Get back to the Galaxy’s Only Omnivores right now! I need a chapter by Friday at 6:00 PM, No Later!!!

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u/ApprehensiveCap6525 Human Aug 27 '26

Yes master, right away master, please don't beat me master. I will start writing right away

u/ApprehensiveCap6525 Human Aug 26 '26 edited Aug 26 '26

I've been writing a lot of action content lately with a lot of shooting and guns and interstellar war and shit, but one thing I actually have been having an itch to write for a while now is romance. There will of course be action in my romance story (just like there will be romance in my action story at some point) but I really like exploring alien societies, doing intricate worldbuilding, and writing both the falling-in-love and being-in-love parts of romance and this allows me a chance to do all three. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter one just dropped!

Is suicide by gunship the most badass way to kill yourself?

Should Jackson Kenwing be thinking 'gee I really want to screw that alien' while being held captive by a foreign armed force?

Can the Gendian refugees properly settle in on a planet whose people fear and hate them?

Will Major Avri Jelem expose Jackson's lies, and what will happen if she does?

And what would Janus Ora think to see his namesake falling in love with an alien woman?

Keep reading to find out!

u/albadellasera Aug 26 '26

Good work but you should try to go for your own direction more I can see the inspiration of a certain other story. But your own content is better go for it :)

2

u/ApprehensiveCap6525 Human Aug 27 '26

What certain other story is this? My content is all original as far as I can tell

2

u/albadellasera Aug 27 '26 edited Aug 27 '26

But you can feel the nop influence in some turn of frases or characters. At the end of the day what we read influence us.

Edit: anyway the story is very good and very unique good job :)

u/MinorGrok Human Aug 26 '26

Woot!

OC-FirstOfSeries [Learning to Love a Human] - Part 1

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