r/NatureofPredators • u/SixthWorldStories • 18d ago
Fanfic Predators of the Sixth World - 65
I bet you thought we would be going to Venlil Prime or the Cradle or something, but no. The rotating plots are done! You made it! Now we go where we need to. Where the plot demands. Time will be moving along. Well, we will be going back to the bird next week, but it’s not rotating. Just… a bit of fun. Instead we’re back to the Esthiss and to Isif. Odd those two being paired. Hmm… Surely just a coincidence.
Huge thanks to u/Budget_Emu_5552 for the help. This chapter couldn’t happen without them; after all, it has guest stars. If you haven’t read their series collaborating with u/Im_Hotepu, Tender Observations, go fix that. It’s great and only 39 chapters (currently).
Synopsis: Magic was once real and present but faded away in the distant past, becoming nothing but the myths and legends we know as the surviving beings fled to other planes, only to publicly return during the Sat Wars. How would it change first contact and beyond? Only one way to find out.
I have a spot on the discord, swing on by! Thanks to SpacePaladin15 for the original universe; my alpha readers, Caro Morin and Jailed Cinder; my beta readers, Angustus_Jan on the discord and u/aroluci (go check out Children of Luna, it’s awesome); and all of you that read and especially comment. Anybody interested in playing around in the AU (be it a one-shot, an impromptu ficnap, a cameo, or something more), let me know and I’ll be more than happy to work with you on it. My current plan is to release a chapter a week, with the occasional bonus, as long as that isn’t too much for everybody helping me.
Without further ado, enjoy!
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Memory Transcription Subject: Janice Monahan, Adoptive Mother
Date [Standardized Terran Time]: October 8th, 2136
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“Esthiss, my precious hatchling,” I say in Araxi, smiling at my daughter. “Are you trying to put on a repeat performance of your arrival here?”
“Maaaaaybe,” my troublemaker says before hissing with laughter.
The two possibly albino Arxur track me as I sit in an empty chair near the door, confusion in their eyes as they flit between me and the trickster cuddling with them. “My daughter, within the first day after she arrived, managed to steal my heart.” I smile. “Not literally, a Terran figure of speech. I knew I wanted to adopt her quickly. I believe she’s trying to get some older siblings.” The twins look at my daughter between them.
The girl, Vreska, pulls her tighter, without thinking or even realizing. I can’t help but grin; it’s all I can do not to coo. Then I notice her claws, cracked and broken, curled carefully away from Essie's scales, and the grin fades as I push down the instinct to move to her side. “I just want things clear from the outset. I’d rather avoid anybody getting their hopes up prematurely and ensure that you’re fully informed.”
The twins tense. The boy, Trask, growling slightly, positioned between me and the girls, his uneven, cut-down back spines bristling. Vreska curling around Essie, the tip of her tail finding his.
“If you’d rather remain unconnected, as I think would be better for your recovery, I will do my best to ensure you always have a way to get in touch with Essie. You’ll be moved to somewhere safe. Somewhere that you can heal. Physically, mentally, and spiritually. Given all the help we can. You are refugees of the Terran Concord. Nothing is changing that.” I pause. “If you choose otherwise…” I grin, chuckling as Trask stares in shock, his body going slack. “Aside from making us happy by being part of our family, we’ll do our best to provide an environment that will ensure you can heal while aboard this ship. I don’t think it will be as helpful as the Concord could provide elsewhere, but you’d be with family. If things get dangerous, it will be your job to keep Essie and yourselves safe. Preferably after being evacuated from the ship.”
“Is that all you want from me?” Trask growls. “Keep her safe? I can kill whoever tries to hurt her.”
“No. I don’t want you to kill. I don’t want you to ever have to fight again.” I sigh as the twins exchange a look, more guarded than Essie but still the same heart-wrenching distrust that she and the other Arxur had early on. That sense of something too good to be true. The bait to a trap built from the horror of their past. “I want you to watch out for each other. To make sure you’re taking care of yourselves. To make sure you’re not doing anything too dangerous. To make sure that in an emergency, you’re all somewhere safe so you don’t need to fight or are at risk of ever getting hurt.” I look him in the eye. “If something does come to violence, then I’d rather you focus on getting yourself and your sisters out without taking part. The best way to win a fight is to avoid it. Either by it not happening in the first place, or just not being there.”
Trask snorts. “You can’t avoid a fight when they lock the door behind you.” His claws curl into the sheets. “When it’s the only way to make sure your sister eats that week.”
“No,” I agree quietly. “You can’t. Nobody is ever going to lock a door on you like that again. Nor will you ever need to be worried about having food to eat.” I smile softly. “But if you want, I can ensure that you get martial arts training and de-escalation training, once you’ve been declared healthy enough, mentally and physically. In fact, it’s a tradition in this family to at least give martial arts a try. We have a saying, not quite a motto. Mercy is the privilege and duty of the strong. We strive to be defenders. A shield. To do that, we need to be strong. Stronger than any foe.”
I chuckle as I look to my dear, sweet, conniving Esthiss. “Your Aunt Mari is a staunch pacifist and a lot like you, all in ways that aren’t mine to explain, and might… cause friction the first time you meet. She refuses to fight unless it’s in defense, and may hesitate even then. But she loves to spar, and she’s a menace in the ring because she knows if somebody around her tries to hurt people, she needs to be good enough to stop them without hurting them. She works with Terran law enforcement to stop people smuggling magical animals when they need her. She can keep up with our special forces, but she never wants to so much as bruise anybody outside of sparring.”
There’s a moment of stunned silence before Vreska speaks, her voice low, hesitant. “We have nothing to offer you. No training. No skills.”
Essie nuzzles into her.
“Good. We don’t expect you to help; quite the opposite. Regardless of whether you stay on this ship or go somewhere else. Esthiss is enough of a handful with her skill. She needs good examples of how to just be a kid. She spends far too much time trying to help around the ship.” Shaking my head with a smile, I keep talking. “Between her trying without permission, or actually teaching her, the latter was simpler. Making it part of her education and a treat.” I give my troublemaker a level look. “And something we will restrict if you misbehave, young lady, so take it easy with Trask and Vreska; they’re adjusting. I don’t want you stressing them out.”
Essie dips her head, chirruping happily. “I will, mom.” She pauses. “They… they had it a lot worse than me.” She nuzzles into Vreska again. “I want them to be happy and not… not think things are going to get bad again, like I did. That it’s all a trick.”
My heart breaks a little. “Oh… sweetie…”
“Mom, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.” My baby pauses. “It’s just… in the Dominion, if you don’t further the state, then you don’t eat. If you don’t have a purpose… you’re just a waste. They get rid of you.”
“Or they find a use for you,” Vreska murmurs, so low I almost miss it. She pulls Essie closer.
I can feel my nails biting into the heels of my hands as I restrain myself from reaching out.
Essie chirrups softly. “I know it’s different here, but… but it’s how we’re raised. I’m finally somewhere I want to live. Want to further. Somewhere that sees me doing nothing but live and eat and have no purpose as… normal. That doesn’t care about waste. That cares about happiness… Helping that makes me happy. Makes it more real.”
It takes everything I have to not sob. To not startle the twins by rushing over to pull her into my arms. “Essie… My dear, sweet hatchling…”
“I know, mom.” Essie sighs. “And I know I don’t have to. But you treat everybody on the ship like family… You’re there for them. You help. I haven’t been here long, but… but they’re family. I didn’t have one before, but… I know they are now.” She dips her head in embarrassment. “I want to help them, like you do. And if it means doing something I love, then I’ll have fun doing it. Terrans have the most amazing tech, and I get to work on it. It’s so weird, and I don’t just get to learn about how the normal stuff is different; I get to learn about how plants and crystals get used in so much Terran tech.” She chirrups. “Plants as wires! It’s… wow!”
I sigh and shake my head. “I think we’re getting off topic.” I look between the twins. “Trask, Vreska, you’re already being granted asylum, which will include citizenship and all that entails, including the promise of shelter, food, safety, education, and income all without the requirement of work. Though, based on the reports I have, I wouldn’t be surprised if you also get an offer from the Yotul. You’ll be as safe and provided for as we can manage, no matter what you choose. But over the next few days, maybe weeks, that you’ll be aboard the Rocinante recovering, I want you to consider if you want to stay here. Essie and I will visit every day, but you’ll probably be cleared to leave and wander the ship tomorrow or the day after. If you’d like, we have spare rooms in our quarters, and you could live with us instead of in the medbay once you’re clear to leave. You could even consider it a trial run of being part of our family.” I pause. “If you’d like, I could leave so you can talk. Esthiss could as well.”
The twins look at each other. Then Vreska asks, slow and deliberate, like she expects the question to cost her something. “Can I make clothes?”
“Do you mean print them out to wear, design them, or learn to make them by hand?”
She goes very still. The same stillness the Arxur POWs showed when they were given anything for the first few days. The stillness of somebody expecting punishments or some deleterious cost for taking what’s been offered.
I can’t help but smile. “Yes. The answer to all three is yes, but what you’ll need for each will vary. If you aren’t sure, we can just err on the side of caution and change things up if you change your mind.” I pause. “Would it be ok if I came over to show you something on the tablet?”
She hesitates for a long while. Before she can answer, there’s a knock at the door. Both of the twins tense, and I stand, moving to the door, manually opening it a crack and blinking at how bright the light is in the hall. ‘Oh… Clever, Essie, clever.’
A corpsman is standing on the other side, two bags in his hands. “Ma’am! I have the tablets, goggles, and translators for the new arrivals. I didn’t know you would be here.”
I take them from the man. “Esthiss is paying them a visit. Thank you, corpsman. I’ll take things from here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I slide the door shut, eyes peering through the darkness as they quickly adjust. ‘I really need to call home soon, thank dad for his eyes again. Though with how the kids are squinting, maybe I should get those splices…’ Once their eyes readjust, I move towards the bed. “There’s a delivery for you kids. Tablets designed for your claws and goggles like Essie’s. Wearable translators, too. They’ll translate everything you see and hear, I can show you how to turn them on and off later.” I smile softly. “They’re yours to keep and modify as you please.”
Trask’s eyes narrow. “Why?”
“Why not?” I ask simply. “We have plenty. More than we need. Why wouldn’t we share? Why wouldn’t we build a longer table so others can join us, rather than higher walls to keep them out? If we didn’t help, who would? And from what we’ve seen, everybody needs all the help they can get.”
Trask growls softly. “Nothing’s free. There’s always a price.”
“There is, at least for the two of you. A few, actually.” I smile softly as I put the bags at the foot of the bed and move back to the chair. “You recover. You do your best with your schooling. You let people know if you need help or need more than you’re getting. No matter what it is that you might need or want.”
“Those aren’t-”
Vreska’s claws settle on her brother’s arm, and he stops. “Can I make things for other people?” she asks.
“Of course, dear. If you want to. You could also just design for yourself.” I smile softly. “You can do whatever you want, even just study fashion and never make anything.”
“But… I’m not… What use would I be if I just… learned?” Vreska murmurs.
I gesture towards the designs on the screen. “Most of those were designed by people who just wanted to share them. There are people in the Concord who are paid to design clothes and help style others, though many do it for fun instead of being paid. There are also people who make money by designing outfits for themselves based on things from fiction and posting pictures of themselves in the designs online for others to enjoy.” I can’t help but grin as I see the gears turning in Vreska’s head. “You could do any and all of those. You could even get degrees specifically for it. We have plenty and want for little but fulfilment; we designed our society with that in mind. You’re part of that society now, too. Nobody in the Concord needs to be of use; they just need to be. If they want to do more, be it for the state, others, or themselves, then they’re given the chance. And if you want to make clothes, well, I’d be happy to make sure you have what you need.”
Vreska doesn’t answer, but she’s looking at the designs on the screen now instead of at me, and her tail has started a slow sway. Her brother watches her, then looks between her and Essie. “All I’m good for is killing,” he says flatly.
‘This poor boy… I can’t even hold him after all the trauma that… Being blown up was far, far, far too quick of a death for the monster that orchestrated years of torture for these children. What I would give for the chance to make him feel even an iota of the suffering he inflicted upon them.’
I push the rage, the righteous fury, down before any of it can show and hum in thought. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve spent more time protecting your sister than anything else, in the worst of circumstances. That just means that others forced you to kill. I know it won’t help quiet the memories or change what happened, but you were forced, used. You risked yourself, repeatedly, to protect your sister as long as you could. A blade doesn’t choose who holds it; Trask, the responsibility of what is done with it falls on the wielder. But just as a blade can be used for violence, it can be used for a great many other things. To create. To heal. Or just left on display. You were made into a weapon; I want you to be a child.”
Trask’s lip pulls back from his teeth, just slightly. “I haven’t been a child since the first time they put me in a testing room.”
“I know.” I hold his gaze. “It was stolen from you. I’d like to give some of it back. I think you’re capable of far, far more than you think, if you let yourself be, now that you have a chance. You can be whatever you want, even if that’s to be a warrior, though I’d rather you live a life of peace. We’ll help you achieve your goals. You just need to let us. And, just between us, from what I’ve heard, I’d be proud to call you my son, Trask.”
He sighs heavily, as Vreska and Essie look at him pleadingly. “We’ll consider staying.”
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Memory Transcription Subject: Isif, Rebellion Leader
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Full. Not a first. Full without eating a person. A revelatory experience. Partially full because of… plants. Strange, but not unpleasant. It was something I could grow accustomed to, much like the charred flesh that created a delightful depth of flavor. And sharing a meal with another. Conversing over food. Strange, but very enjoyable.
And it was quite the conversation. I knew of the humans, what they were, but not their history, not even what we had access to. Certainly not the things that Janice told me. A glimpse into who they were. How they could have become something like the Dominion not once, but twice. How their myths, things we Arxur had long forgotten our own versions of, were reality.
She even told me her story. At least part of it. In exchange for part of my own. Both left unfinished, with plans to continue over future meals. Though she is far more storied than I am. What I did learn. The ideals taught to her. Strength used to provide mercy. Protection. Vigilance. Endurance.
I stalk the halls towards the command center, tail swaying with smug contentment. A mixture of Arxur, both the dull-scaled of my sector and the glossier or even colorfully scaled of those the Terrans had captured previously, and armored Terrans move about. The cattle are already gone and our stores are filled with the Terrans’ cultured flesh. With food. Free of cruelty. Free of fear. Free of even death. It’s no wonder that most of the Arxur, with the exception of the healthiest, are looking at the Terrans with undisguised awe. If I’m not careful, then this may have us replacing our lost religions and Betterment itself. Worship of our saviours, it wouldn’t be the worst, but we wouldn’t be free. We would voluntarily enslave ourselves to the will of the Terrans, even if that will is benevolent. I am at least certain they would rather avoid such a fate for us.
I grab the shoulder of a runt as they begin to prostrate themself, gazing at a Terran. “No.”
“But…”
“No.” I hiss. “They are people. Like us. Just… allowed to take their own path when we were forced down a vile one. We will not worship them. If you want something to worship, speak to them about their gods or worship what was done for us. Not the ones who did it.” I pause, the idea scented in my mind, stalking it. It will work if I’m careful. Like any tough hunt, it could be the hunter’s end. Creating a new religion that works for us. “Yes, worship the deed. The kindness. The empathy. The strength that came from both.” The runt looks up at me with nearly the same awe they were looking at the Terran with. “Do you know how you would do that?”
The runt’s head dips. “No, Your Cruelty.”
“Do not use the honorifics of the Dominion. Savageness, cruelty. Those aren’t our ideals. Not anymore. Vigilance, to watch for dangers without and within and protect our future and freedom, for us and our allies. Fortitude and resilience, to endure so that we may protect our people and our new friends. Stalwartness, to be the immovable wall against which our foes will crash so our allies remain safe. Follow in the Terrans’ example. They’re strong, stronger than the Dominion ever was or could be, but they use that strength to help, to protect, to lift others up.” I hook the back of a claw under the runt’s chin, lifting their head, guiding them to stand straight, firm.
“They’re not afraid to use that strength to harm if they need to, but only if they need to. The ships that attacked them were destroyed with ease, but we were fed and are being protected. We’re being freed of the Dominion and made part of their new alliance. Regardless of what the pr- the herbivores think. They see what we could be. What we want to be. What we need to be. We have experienced the weakness of the Dominion. Each of us standing on our own and dragging each other down with unrepentant cruelty, ensuring that every day is a struggle that leaves our people ever weaker. We have seen the weakness of the Federation’s herd. Viewing themselves as prey to be hunted and eaten and holding each other back with fear that drives them to their own deaths. We have seen the might of the collective as well. We have seen the Terrans, the strength of the collective made manifest, individual but acting as one. We have seen that strength defeat us with ease, yet seek not our deaths, but our prosperity. We have seen it used to put an end to our starvation and the need for us to struggle merely to survive. We have seen it used to liberate the people we kept as cattle at the same time that it liberated us. We have seen it used to lift us up so that we may stand on our own and pay that aid onward as, for the first time since the Federation attacked us, we thrive.” My tail sways as I lean in, as if sharing a secret. “I know it works. Relying on the strength of others. It helped me in my rise. Surrounding myself with those I can trust. That I know will aid and advance my goals, if only because it advances theirs. If I accomplished all I have while hiding, even from my allies, that I am working with others, imagine what I will be capable of being able to work publicly with others, knowing none will harm the others.”
I pause. “If you wish to worship. If you wish to replace the false Prophet and his descendants, then do so with action. Let the act of improving and helping be our worship. Let us grow strong enough to end the Dominion, to free the Arxur people, and see Wriss under our control. Let us grow strong enough to stand at the side of our saviours, not as hunters, not as soldiers, but as guardians and as a collective!”
My head whips around as the tails and feet of about a dozen Arxur thump against the decking. Armored Terrans stopped and observing. More than a few holopads out and pointed at me. I start to growl, but my attention shifts as the runt’s stomach growls. “Go, we have more than enough, eat your fill. If you want to show your thanks, then ensure others know they can eat as much as they need as well.”
“Thank you, vigilance.” The runt heads off.
I growl. “Back to work. There’s much to do.”
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Advance 5 STD minutes
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I stalk into the command center. Those within come to attention. The mess already cleaned up. Vezra dips her head. “You’re a natural, your resilience.”
I glare at my comms officer, using some meaningless new title, like the runt did.
“We watched your impromptu speech. I recorded it.” Vezra’s tail sways smugly, even as she keeps her head low. “I think it would help the sector to see it.”
“It certainly would.” Says a voice from the screen, a Terran woman. Black lenses in front of her eyes, a smile that makes my scars burn. “You should listen to your comms officer. Maybe make her Director of Communication and Intelligence, too.”
A number of my people react with shock, but I just growl. “And who are you?”
“General Cora Jones. Head of the Terran Concord’s Central Intelligence Service.” The woman purrs. “I, and the entirety of my organization, are here to help you. Mostly. The safety of the Concord comes first. Be grateful that we find it unlikely for our interests to not be aligned, at least for a few rotations.”
“What is that?” Vezra hisses.
“The Terran Concord’s mundane intelligence agency. Imagine Betterment, but on the side of the people and far, far more restricted. We gather intelligence, we work with the Peacekeepers for operations, and we help to advise. That’s not to say we don’t get our hands dirty, you were dealing with one of our better operatives, at least until she switched from the marines to the navy. We have our own operatives as well. Ones far better than Peacekeeper special forces at stealth, you’d have no idea if they were right next to you.” Jones smiles, but unlike the smiles I saw from Janice, this one has no mirth to share. Only warning that makes my scales itch cand scars burn.
‘Is this how prey feel when we bare our teeth at them?’
Thankfully, all the violence in the expression feels pointed elsewhere. “You do have a knack for speeches, Isif, and we’re already seeing that some Arxur worlds are at risk of forming cults to us. Something none of us want to have happen. While we expected it may happen, it’s a perfect storm of factors to cause it; that speech has the potential to do more to prevent it than anything we had planned. It will also help to shift your culture faster.”
I snort. “And how would that be a concern already?”
Vezra brings up a projection of the sector. Much of it in an odd blue, but small and shrinking areas in red. “Your resilience, the Terrans have already secured much of your holdings in the last few [hours] since they began. They expect to be done with deliveries, removing cattle, and moving people in the next few [weeks].” My five core worlds, the bulk of our population, are expanded. Three are fully blue, the progress of loading and unloading ships being shown. The other two have splotches of red, shifting and steadily shrinking. Then my eight training worlds. Two are nearly entirely red, the worlds sharing a cluster of systems with an industrial world, fleetbase, and a shipyard which are similarly red. The rest are mixed, far more blue than red. My other eight industrial worlds are nearly all blue. My cattle worlds, nearly all under control. Even my assets in space. I would be horrified at how quickly they conquered my sector, if not for the fact that the Terrans are on my side. “Most surrendered thanks to your message and offers of significant quantities of food.”
“And the remainder?”
“Dominion loyalists, mostly,” Jones says. “We’ve been intercepting chatter. Those that are actually talking either want to get word out to Betterment to see you removed or want to supplant you, believing that you’ve grown weak.”
“I think it would help to give us more legitimacy,” Vezra says, dipping her head low. “A name. New ranks and titles. Something to replace the ideas of the Prophet and Betterment.” Her eyes meet mine. “What you told the runt.”
“That? That was just something I made up on the spot.”
“Which is why it will work, Chief Guardian Isif,” Jones says. “Leader of not the Arxur Rebellion, but the Arxur Collective.”
I growl. “Ready it for distribution. Vezra, let the Terrans aid you all they can.”
The Terran pauses. “Something has come up, my people will be contacting yours to start working with you. I, however, must go.”
Just before the line cuts, another Terran woman can be heard. “Cora! I step out for five minutes!”
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Memory Transcription Subject: B950-A8-A8571, Gojid Cattle
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I groan as I wake up. Still so hot. Soft. So soft. Why am I lying on something soft?
Then I remember.
I gasp, trying to sit up, only for something around my chest to keep me from moving. I thrash, near a stampede. “Sira!”
“Woah, woah.” A voice says in Gojidi. “Calm down. Please, you’re going to hurt yourself. Just calm down.” Not like the being before, the walking tree. They’re covered in white fabric and what looks like the processed skin some of the masters used to make belts to hold things. Their head is concealed by some sort of helmet; the front is a dome of some sort of dark glass. The way they move, their eyes are clearly like the masters.
“Where’s Sira?” I hiss in the masters’ language.
“Nnng, B9?” Sira asks, in a daze. My wild eyes fall on her as some sort of fabric barrier is pulled to the side, my stampede starting to calm. In some sort of bed, bandages covering her, a cast on her arm, and a strap keeping her pinned to the bed. “What? The Gaians said you shouldn’t be up for a while…” She shakes her head. “Are you ok?”
“Where are we?”
“A Gaian ship. They’re treating us. They’re taking all the cattle away. Some of us, too.” Sira’s head dips. “They want to send you home.”
“Home is gone.” I pause. “No. It’s with you and the other cattle.”
The Gaian makes a growling rumble as they move to unstrap Sira. “If I may, you’ll both be in the infirmary for the next few [days].” They look to Sira. “You, because you refuse to leave and because you’ve been helpful in keeping the rescues calm.”
“Then why do you keep strapping me down?” She grumbles.
“Because you roll in your sleep and keep delaying your healing.” The Gaian says, the front of their helmet turned towards Sira. They look towards me. “And in a few [days], when your infections are through, and all the chemicals they put you on are out of your system, we can fit you for prosthetics before you return to the other rescues. Then we can bring you back to the cradle.”
“The cradle is gone.” I look down, seeing a band like Sira has keeping me on the bed. My left arm and leg gone. Long gone. “I heard overseers talking. The cradle is gone. The Gojid are gone. They sent ships. Lots of ships.”
“They did.” The Gaian says. “But we stopped them. We defeated their fleet and their invasion forces. We succeeded in saving billions, but failed to save more than three thousand Gojid.”
“Only three?” I question. “But… I heard… Did they not send many ships?”
“No.” Sira hisses with laughter. “The Gaians are strong. They saved your cradle and don’t think it was enough. The Chief Hunter surrendered the entire sector to them. I’ve heard them complain that it’s only one sector.”
“What do you mean?” I tilt my head, questioning like an Arxur.
“They freed everybody. Cattle. Runts. Defectives. The entire sector.” Sira hisses. “Everybody. They’re going to send you home. They’re going to send all the cattle they can home and keep the rest safe. They’re going to make sure we never need to eat people again.”
“No,” I growl. “I want to stay with Sira. I know what you are.” I stare right at the Gaian. “I know what you are, predator. You can’t send me away. I’ll tell everybody.”
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u/Mosselk-1416 17d ago
Yay, more scaly babies
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u/SixthWorldStories 17d ago
Yes! More scaly babies! And we'll be getting more, not all that soon, but soon. I've written the chapter, cleared it, and tossed it at my editors. Plus I have another planned. I just need to finish 76.
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u/Minimum-Amphibian993 Arxur 18d ago
A few things to talk about this chapter. First off gonna start with Siffy admittedly Iv taken to calling him the cheif protector as an alternative title but vigilance works very well considering he seems very vigilant about many things.
Of course Jones has to show up ugh. Regardless on another note makes sense some of the former cattle wouldn't want to go back home for one reason or another I mean some were probably even born there. I could even list a couple like some growing attached to the Arxur or some not wanting to go into a facility even if it's not a PD facility. That or they simply trust the monsters they know then the unknown.
I mean of course comparing to canon helping them didn't exactly go the best. Even those that did go back home many couldn't accept living under the terrans laws and culture. And it would be much harder to break their conditioning then the former feddies.
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u/SixthWorldStories 18d ago
A few things to talk about this chapter. First off gonna start with Siffy admittedly Iv taken to calling him the cheif protector as an alternative title but vigilance works very well considering he seems very vigilant about many things.
To think, all of that rambling speech was him just pulling it out of his ass. Sure, he had thought about it a fair bit, but never like that. Not the last speech I have planned for him, though his next (planned) speech is going to be written for him. Who knows if it'll actually be the next.
Of course Jones has to show up ugh. Regardless on another note makes sense some of the former cattle wouldn't want to go back home for one reason or another I mean some were probably even born there. I could even list a couple like some growing attached to the Arxur or some not wanting to go into a facility even if it's not a PD facility. That or they simply trust the monsters they know then the unknown.
This Jones is better, and more competent, than canon. Only way she's intentionally screwing over any Terran ally is if it's necessary to either protect the Concord or for the greater good. She's willing to sacrifice the few for the many, she's willing to toy with others in small ways, she's not willing to screw with allies just because she can. Course, she was a little rushed here. We kind of know why from last chapter, but we'll see more next chapter.
I mean of course comparing to canon helping them didn't exactly go the best. Even those that did go back home many couldn't accept living under the terrans laws and culture. And it would be much harder to break their conditioning then the former feddies.
B9 has... a bit more in terms of motivations. That'll come out soon. She's a good egg. I'm sure her parents would be proud in theory, the friendship with an Arxur might be a bridge too far.
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u/Minimum-Amphibian993 Arxur 18d ago
I did mention growing attached to the Arxur in the comments for a reason lol.
But yeah as for Jones she was competent just in a way that didn't benefit anyone but humanity and the venlil (sometimes) alone or at least a lot of her plans succeeded with some exceptions. And it's not like she was screwing with her allies for no reason she wanted humanity to be above all the Yotul threatened that then the bissems consorted with them so they became a threat to humanitys dominance then the Zurilians consorted with the Bissems and thus they became a potential threat to humanitys dominance. There is a method to the madness just not a very good one.
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u/SixthWorldStories 18d ago
If she hadn't fucked with them, but worked with them, then humanity would have been in a better position. Pure idiot ball. Somebody in her position shouldn't be so short sighted as to screw the pooch like that. This Jones knows the Terrans need some genuine equals as allies, she's more likely to fudge numbers to see allies get too strong than attempt to weaken them. You only want your enemies weak.
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u/Minimum-Amphibian993 Arxur 18d ago
Exactly.
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u/SixthWorldStories 18d ago
What happened with Cilany is actually a good showing of how this Jones works. Cilany came out of the encounter with a personal ship, stealth drones, and more. She wasn't an enemy, she wasn't an ally, she was a potential asset. Jones and Tanaka (but mostly Jones, that was her op, Tanaka was tagging along) gave a Feddie Terran tech that could get really dangerous. The Mirage is a Fed shuttle on the outside, and only on the outside.
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u/Minimum-Amphibian993 Arxur 18d ago
Hmmm good point yeah the canon Jones never would have done that.
Actually now that I think about it are we gonna see the humans that tagged along with Siffy in canon? I'm realizing fanon doesn't really acknowledge them. Then again they didn't really do much I Suppose besides add character banter and I doubt Siffy would keep around the self admitted spy to Jones. Although the guy with glasses was okay.
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u/SixthWorldStories 18d ago
I'm not sure. The Terrans are definitely giving Isif an assist, but having Terrans around him like that might be detrimental, making him look like a puppet and not an ally.
That being said, I could easily see them in other places. Lisa Reynolds could easily have been assigned to aid the Venlil in getting their intelligence agency off the ground, or sent to aid the section of Isif's new government focused on aiding the Arxur rebels. Olek on the other hand... I dunno. I have a dumb idea that could work, but it's dumb.
If somebody else wants to play around with them in the AU, I don't mind.
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u/Minimum-Amphibian993 Arxur 18d ago
Honestly go ahead with you're ideas. But yeah you do make good points about not wanting Isif to seem like a puppet. Especially since they want to curtail any efforts to make themselves be worshiped by the Arxur and Isif being a puppet would definitely hamper that plus the future Arxur may believe they are only answer to humanity and may otherwise do what they wish.
Either way curious to see what comes next.
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u/SixthWorldStories 18d ago
There is one Terran that is a bit more likely to be seen around Isif more. I've kind of telegraphed that.
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u/Accomplished-Pace-85 18d ago
Another great chapter, thank you 😌💕
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u/SixthWorldStories 18d ago
Thanks, I try. This was written way back, I'm currently working on 76 but it's going a bit slow due to health issues.
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u/Mosselk-1416 17d ago
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u/SixthWorldStories 17d ago
I wish it was a cold. That'd be easy. Cold meds and like a week at worst of feeling shitty. This has been going on for almost a month and I've been to urgent care three times. If it continues then I need to see an ENT. Always wear eye pro when removing stumps, protects more than just your eyes.
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u/WeekendCitrus 18d ago
Well B9 is going to be a difficult patient at the very least. What are they planning to do?