wolven91

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 10

“Ah! Casper my boy!” Exclaimed Zeet. It was the older engineer geckin who had been supporting the young man's progress as a brand new mech pilot. The blue geckin had been the one in the first instance to suggest to the young man that he give piloting a try and so far had been a stalwart ally and straight shooting voice of reason for Casper.

Despite the engineer’s enthusiasm, Zeet had never led Casper astray, nor had any of his machines failed the young man. The human felt he could trust this geckin, as far as his equipment went at the very least. 

“Good morning Zeet, I understand it's the moment of truth?” Replied Casper, calmer than he expected. Qik stepped into the room not a single step behind the human and marched over to the correctly sized chairs. She pulled out the centre one and sat directly in front of the High Commander, the black and purple geckin in charge of the geckin people’s military actions.

She would be the one in control of the upcoming operation.  

This was when Casper noticed that there was a small crowd of geckins already sitting on the other side of the broad table that dominated the room. With only two chairs on ‘his’ side, it was quite obvious where he was meant to sit. Casper couldn’t help but squint and narrow his eyes at the people arrayed in front of him. Wasn’t it a bit heavy handed? Zeet, Wren, the High Commander and a slew of other geckins that the man had yet to have met, at least as far as he was aware of. Were they all needed to brief the pair of mercenaries?

Zeet seemed undeterred. 

“Indeed! The moment of truth! Oh, I can’t w-” Although the older alien couldn’t finish his sentence as a curt, sharp voice cut him off and he went silent instantly.

“Enough Zeet. Casper, why not sit with your… colleague?” Suggested the High Commander, not in the slightest giving him another option. Her tone was mocking, but he had no doubt she held little regard to either Qik or the pair of them.

Casper didn’t say anything, and instead calmly walked over to sit and join Qik at the table. She was perfectly still and a perfect picture of cold, calm and calculating. Casper kept his silence, and waited for someone else to speak.There was a pregnant moment of silence. 

The High Commander was the first to break the pause and spoke in a haughty tone.

“As per your contract Qik, we have need to run an op on the same planet as before.” She explained, blinking slowly and looking down her short snout at the lopeljack mercenary. Qik was unphased. 

“What’s the gig?” She asked without missing a beat.

“They’re amassing a sizable mechanised force in the former cities. Orbital operations are still at a stand still, neither of us want to have to report the loss of a ship.” The Commander explained, waving a hand dismissing the orbital fleets as if it were a non-issue. 

“So you want us to cut them down?” Qik asked, fishing for details.

“Exactly.” The purple and black geckin replied without assisting. Her eyes blinking slowly again, she kept them focused on Qik, pointedly ignoring Casper. He made no attempt to insert himself, he trusted Qik implicitly. The lopel stared the geckin down for a moment before breaking her gaze and shrugging, leaning back into her chair.

“Seems straight forward, I would have thought you would have used us in something more valuable.” She mused aloud, interlocking her fingers and gazing lazily at the geckin. Casper’s eyes narrowed a fraction just as he noticed the scale below her right eye twitch. A tell?

“I am a geckin of my word. This is the first combat operation we need to deploy against. The choice is our own mechanised force, which is a cost and a risk, or we rid ourselves of the two drains upon our resources.” The aloof geckin explained, again, waving her hand in the air without her elbows leaving them table. 

“Drains?” Casper asked, unable to bite his tongue in time. The geckin finally turned her attention to the human. 

“With your contracts complete you will have no need to stay and we can invest in professionals that mind their business.” Replied the commander, obviously peeved at the pair of them. 

The geckin turned her attention back to Qik, despite only being a foot tall, Casper was near certain he saw the mental image of a tank turret, slowly traversing as the High Commander turned and stared at Qik. 

The lopel merely stared back. 

“Make no mistake, we are not pleased with your interference with Casper and his training.” She explained curtly. Qik shrugged and pulled a uncaring face. 

“I trained him how I would train any pilot, just as you’ve asked me to do for the last hundred you sent my way. He’s no different.” She defended calmly. Casper had no idea if that was true. Did she use all her trainees as body pillows? 

He kept this thought to himself.

“And yet he’s the first to demand his own contract?” The High Commander demanded.

“Ask him yourself.” Qik offered, gesturing at Casper to her left. The young man tried not to have a heart attack. 

“Well?” The High Commander inquired, staring a hole through the centre of Casper’s forehead. Casper swallowed and gathered his thoughts, not sure if he was ready to be put on the spot already. But the man had, had plenty of time to think and consider the matter. Clearing his throat, he offered his explanation, as honestly as he could. 

“I’m not geckin ma’am. I would assume your pilots are quite loyal to your people?” He asked slowly. 

“Every one of them.” She replied without hesitation. 

“I am grateful for your help, but I’m not geckin. There was no plan for me to stay long term. You got me dropped into your lap. This was just an accident, you couldn’t have expected me to stay?” Casper asked, trying to appeal to her common sense. A human to babysit wasn’t exactly a boon to anyone, let alone a government or private organisation that would apparently need to prove he was happy on a regular basis?

Casper wasn’t expecting the cold, sharp, humourless grin to spread across her face. 

“Hmph, quite the contrary. We fought for a sizable number of humans to be provided to the geckin territories.” She explained, almost off handedly. It hadn’t been what Casper had expected her to say in slightest. He frowned, outright confused. 

“What, why? You don’t know us.” He demanded. 

“Politics, as with everything.” She offered, waving her hand as she did. 

“So not the kindness of your heart then?”

That got a snort of derision from the small creature. She leant forward and interlaced her fingers, resting her snout beneath her fingers while staring Casper directly in the eye as she spoke next. 

Her words were low and intense. She believed every word she uttered with every fibre of her being. Casper was certain of that. 

“You are not an idiot so don’t be naive. No. The geckin people are under attack by the cowardly ssypno and their gluttonous nobility. All the while, their queen sits idly while our freedom is crushed within their coils.” The High Commander explained, baring her teeth as she spoke.

“Our very existance is up for debate amongst the high tri-table and we will not merely sit by while the next hunt begins.” She pulled her arms apart, one hand slapping against the table while the other pointed at Casper to emphasise her point. 

“Demanding our fair share to the human population that was being divided amongst the other races was a method of establishing our legitimacy to be sat at the table, as frustrating as it is to have to resort to such methods.” She explained, waving awake the unpleasant concept as if it bothered her like a fly.

Casper blinked, turning over this information in his head.

“Humans were… divided up amongst the other races?” He asked. 

“Yes. Humans have captured the hearts and minds of every race across the stars. The general populace of every sentient race demand we ‘save’ you.” The geckin snorted. “I will be blunt as there is no harm in being honest at this point.”

She paused, but Casper gave her every ounce of his attention. This was not knowledge that was available to him. He needed to hear this. The High Commander locked eyes with the human and spoke with conviction. 

“I do not care if your people die. But while you’re alive, you are the perfect tool for my people. A shield to aggression. No ssypno force, noble or royal, would *dare* attack a base, city or maybe even planet if there was a single human present.” The High Commander revealed, shocking Casper to his core. He felt his lips part, as if to retort, but no words came out. 

“You’re the perfect shield.” She pointed out as if the sky was blue and water was wet. 

Casper turned this concept over in his head as he considered this from every angle. He was staring at the wood grain of the table, but wasn’t seeing it. 

Until he made the connection, and looked back up at her. 

“But now I want off the planet.” He pointed out. 

“So we will lose control of you and lose your protection.” She finished. Almost smug in that Casper had to have had this information explained. She was not talking as if she was in a poor position. Why? What was giving her this confidence? 

“Why do I feel you have another card up your sleeve?” He asked. 

“An odd saying, but yes, my tail has yet to fall off.” She retorted. She paused, and allowed Casper a time to stay there, in his ignorance. Qik also said nothing, but was still avidly watching her. The lopel eyes intense and serious. 

Eventually, the geckin spoke again. 

“I wonder… How will the many bleeding hearts of the galaxy feel ‘if’ or rather, ‘when’, the ssypno forces fire on a human?�� The geckin tilted her head.  “We will record and present every moment of your operation. Success or failure, we remove at least some of their forces from the board and weaken the ssypno’s desire to fight.”

The wicked grin returned as the High Commander leaned forward, pressing her fingertips and claws into the table, leaving curled wood at the end of new grooves in the priceless wood. 

“The ssypno people will see their nobility attacking their precious humans and revolt. That… is the value you hold.” The High Commander concluded, grinning and licking her absent lips. 

Casper had no retort, nothing he could say. He would be used regardless of his actions. Qik however, didn’t care. A job was a job and the sooner she and the human completed it, the sooner they could get to the other side the spiral. 

“Fascinating as it is, can we finalise the contracts?” Qik asked disinterestedly, suspending her hand in the air as if offering a solution. The High Commander affixed a ‘smile’ across her features while the rest of the geckins remained perfectly impassive. Casper didn’t like it immediately and the hairs on the back of his neck all slowly raised on end. 

The only exception to this and seemingly oblivious to the ongoing power players, was Zeet who immediately piped up and began to present his PDA, turning it briefly.

“Oh! Yes! I have some marvellous plans for you to-”

“Zeet. Shut.” The High Commander demanded. Zeet paused immediately, returning to his chair and hiding the screen from view. Qik narrowed her eyes, glancing from Zeet, back to the High Commander.

“Something you’re not telling us?” She asked, obviously sensing the same issue Casper was. The High Commander acted surprised and grinned again. 

“Oh no. You will deploy as you have done in the past with your equipment.” She offered. Qik outright frowned and her voice dropped an octave. 

“...What of Casper’s rig?” She demanded, deadly serious. 

“Casper doesn’t own a rig.” The High Commander offered, seemingly confused as to why Qik would ask. . 

“How do you expect him to fight?” The lopel asked, audibly speaking through clenched teeth.

“I suppose we could…  supply a firearm, for free.” The purple and black striped geckin offered pleasantly, as if that was reasonable or acceptable. 

Qik was on her feet in an instant, hands on the table, looming over the geckins as best she could.

“This will be a breach of contract, under the ‘unreasonable’ clauses!” She announced, pointing down at the table and punctuating her words. Casper merely sat back and let her work. The geckin merely shrugged, unphased by the lopel’s display. 

“We would contest any claim, but we… being reasonable, are willing to offer an amendment to Casper’s contract.” The High Commander offered, leaning back and spreading her hands and arms out, as if a benevolent trader.

The room went still and the temperature dropped. 

“What kind?” Qik asked in a calm, steady voice. Too calm. Too steady. She was on edge.

“We will provide a mech of high quality, free of charge until the completion of the operation and contract.” The geckin offered calmly. Everyone waited for the other shoe to drop. 

“What for?” Casper asked. Qik glanced in his direction, but otherwise kept her eyes on the geckin, who was now pointedly ignoring the lopel.

“Hmmm, you’re certainly not a simple feral creature like some suggest. There will be a clause that is in our favour.” She admitted. 

“What is it?” He asked. The High Commander leaned back and glanced to her left, Casper and Qik’s right. To Wren. The biologist who had been caring for Casper since the beginning. She hadn’t done a great job, but the young man couldn’t fault her attempts to ensure he was okay.

Wren spoke calmly in a practised manner. She seemed to recite her words from memory, rather than form them on the fly.

“In the event of the need to eject the pilot casket, the operation is declared over and the loaned mech and all its contents and components are the property of the XixTech organisation.” The green geckin concluded before sitting back down and going silent. She too, adopted a haughty expression, lifting her muzzle slightly and staring Casper down somewhat. 

It honestly didn’t seem like much of an issue. It wasn’t his mech, he’d get his own rig later. Casper breathed in to dismiss and accept the terms, he had no want to take their property, but stopped when Qik’s hand grabbed his thigh. 

He glanced over to her as she spoke without breaking eye contact with the High Commander.

“All components?” The lopel demanded.

“Quite.” A nod. 

“No deal.”

Casper blinked, turning to Qik. 

“What? I can’t fight on foot! I need that rig.” He demanded, thinking about fighting tanks on foot with a single rifle! Qik or no, he’d more likely fall and blow his own head off than destroy a damned tank!

Qik’s expression when she turned to him gave him pause however. Without waiting, she spoke and explained in a slow, clam voice. Devoid of emotion. 

“Casper, the pilot in the casket, is included in this.” 

Wait.

“If you need to eject, then XixTech will, literally, own you.” Qik concluded. 

Wren cleared her through before speaking as everyone turned to her. 

“More specifically, as their representative; I will own you.”

Casper frowned, seeing the green doctor in a new light. 

“Why?” He asked, confused as to why she’d go this route. If she had asked for anything, he’d likely have just given it to her. She needn’t of gone this way. 

“Ignoring that I don’t need to answer that, we can learn more from you.” She began, coolly. “From your connection to the machine to how you handle the load. I hasten to add, it need not be a bad life, you could work *with* me in researching this.”

Casper said nothing, she continued.

“Or I could put your brain in a jar and ask you questions where you are devoid of distractions like light or sound. I would reward cooperation with stimulation. Otherwise it would be a perfect void for you.”

The green geckin shrugged. 

“Either way works for me.”

The lopel stood and swiped her hand through the air, dismissing the whole geckin side. 

“No deal. My company is on their way, they will have several things to say about this coercion.” She warned before turning and breathing in to speak with Casper, but was cut off by the High Commander.

“So be it, but you’re not being asked here.” The purple and black geckin turned to the human and pointedly asked; “Casper? Your choice. Freedom, with the chance of failure, or stay here as our permanent resident. We will offer you opportunities to pilot mechs, albeit under our direct control.”

The High Commander turned back to the lopal, although still spoke to Casper. 

“We have learnt from our mistakes with our dear Qik here.”

Qik raised her hand, her fingers splayed and brought her palm down in a vertical swipe, holding it in place as if to highlight her words. 

“Casper, don’t. There's another way.”

The young man doubted it. The geckins were too sure, the contracts seemed too tight. 

“Is there?” He asked. 

“The company has lawyers, these idiots aren’t the first to try and strong arm a deal.” She offered. The geckin High Commander retorted again, with an almost gleeful tone.

“No, but we are the first with a human. We checked, your laws are fantastically logical and detailed. It even lists the species… unfortunate ‘human’ is not included.” The finished with a sharp grin.

“They’ve got us cornered.” Casper pointed out.

“No, theres another way.” Qik said, her eyes almost frantic as she mentally searched for an out, finding none. 

“Qik.”

“No, just… give me a sec.”

“Qik do you trust in your training?” Casper asked quietly. 

“What?” The lopel asked, glancing up at him. He was still sat in his chair as she stood over him. Her fur was beautiful and shiny. He didn’t want to cause her distress, but there wasnt a way out here.

“Do you trust in what you’ve taught me? Could I survive in a fight?” He asked pointedly. 

Qik said nothing, searching his face for something. He smiled and shook his head.

“I’m not trying to trick you. Just honesty.” He pressed. 

She grimaced and wore a tight smile. 

“I’ve taught you all I can. Everything else comes from experience.” She explained, her shoulders sagging. 

“Like fighting technicals?” He suggested. Qik frowned, then turned to the gathered board of geckins. 

“If… Is it just technicals? By requirements, you need to tell me your intel now.”

One of the side geckins spoke, reviewing a datapad. 

“Only scuttle tanks and stationary emplacements. We need those emplacements destroyed, but we do offer bonuses for every additional unit destroyed. The bigger the better.” He offered. His lighter tone a stark difference to the hard tones of the others. 

“No enemy pilots?” Qik checked. 

“The ssypno are still scrambling after you took out the former ace.” The High Commander offered. Qik turned back to Casper and sighed. 

“I think… You got a good chance.”

Casper merely nodded then turned in his seat to directly address the High Commander.

“I’ll accept the contract if you give me a fighting chance. Give me a good mech and I’ll agree.”

“Deal.”

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #rabbit #lopeljack

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 9

Casper’s sleep was deep and curative. Morning throughout the several weeks he had spent training with Qik and the geckins had been moments of him snapping awake, aware and scared. 

His breath would catch and the young man would be *certain* that there was *something* inches away from him, merely reaching out to his vulnerable form. 

This would repeat throughout the night, breaking up his sleep schedule until he really felt as if he was only getting the bare minimum most days despite falling into his bed almost as soon as he had gotten home. 

This morning however, his eyes opened slowly. 

Without the spike of fear that he was in danger, Casper was unsure if he was dreaming or not. He took stock of his surroundings and slowly tried to understand what was different today. He could see the mattress up close, the near perfect weave of the material being soft against his face and under his fingertips. 

Blinking, he noticed his hand, which twitched in realisation that it was connect to thim. 

At his twitch however, the large brown furred hand that was placed over it gently curled its own fingers around his, pressing between the spaces of his own digits. He lay there for a time, merely looking and watching without thought or opinion. 

It was nice… The tiny action, so small that an observer would be hard pressed to say it had happened at all, filled his chest with something warm. Like a wooly scarf had been wrapped around him, wrapped around his heart. 

There was a moment however, when he wondered where this hand had come from, so asleep his mind still was. 

The arm the larger hand was connected to, disappeared out of his sight and somewhere behind him. When he tried to move however, that was when he discovered the weight on top of him. 

It wasn’t ‘heavy’, that was the wrong word. 

The pressure on top of him was reassuring. It belonged there. He felt secure in its ‘solidness’, its security. The pressure was mostly across his back and shoulders. But he felt thick, silky furry limbs intertwined with his own. Finally, that was when he noticed the whiskers that were protruding into his sight from above. The hairs were fine and very thin, so he had missed them during his still sleepy state. That was the moment he felt her head, resting on his from above, using his own head as a pillow, tucked beneath her chin.

Casper could feel that one of her long ears, that normally trailed down the back of her head and rested over her shoulders, had now fallen across his face. It’s fur even more delicate than the rest of what covered body and the exposed flesh of the inside of her ear was soft and warm, almost hot to his skin.

Her breath was steady, even and deep. With each inhale, he felt a broad chest slowly inflate across his back, gently pushing him into the mattress, before the mouth that laid over his ear, exhaled softly, the warm wind washing over his face beneath the blanket. 

She was still fast asleep. Casper, still half asleep, relaxed. There was no threat, there was no danger. He was safe in Qik’s arms. 

He closed his eyes and sighed, his own lungs taking in the warm air that smelt like her. Of wet forests and damp moss. His movement was enough to move her however. 

She didn’t wake or stir, but instead her legs tightened, curling his body into her, while her that held his hand drew closer to the pair of the sleeping bodies. In this moment, neither mind could have said where either body began or where the other ended. 

Casper closed his eyes, and in the early hours of the morning, fell back asleep. 

He rested.

His body and mind recovered in a way that hadn’t been possible, since he had slept in a human made bed on a human owned planet, billions of miles away from where he was now. Qik, on the other hand, slept like a baby. She couldn’t sleep without a pillow to hold and had found her alternate option had been a perfect replacement. 

Several hours later, when the system’s star had climbed high into the sky of the planet, the pair remained, entwined together.

Until a communicator gave a unique trill that made Qik’s ears twitch.

The pair of them ‘awoke’ in the traditional sense at the sound of the device, but only Qik disconnected, twisting her torso in a way that would have Casper straining and groaning to copy. Her hand apparently retrieved the device from the side table that crouched at the side of the oversized bed and reviewed the screen, above Casper’s head and out of sight. 

“Mm.. Fair enough.” Qik murmured, more to herself than to Casper. 

“What’s up?” The human asked, laying still, not sure how to address the fact that his teacher for the better part of two months was currently spooning him, and had done so for the whole night. 

“Got a message from my company. They’re on their way back to pick me up.” She explained dismissively, twitching her arm and the device locking sound immediately played. “We should get up, get some breakfast.” She then advised, changing the subject.

“I’m not hungry to be honest.” Casper replied, still remaining there and being truthful. He felt fine. Better than fine in fact, better than he had in a long time. The lopel didn’t reply straight away, and instead she released him so she could begin a bone cracking stretch that had her entire body quaking at the apex. She let out a high pitched squeak and sighed. 

“Well that’s too bad. You’re eating or I will think up a punishment.” She pointed out callously before rolling away and stranding up from the bed in a single smooth movement. She hadn’t even hesitated to reply, meaning that she was either serious, or had expected him to say that. Casper rolled onto his back and into the depression left in the mattress by the lopeljack. He could feel the material slowly rising back into position, despite his whole body weight and considered their differences. 

He watched the lopel as she strutted over to the kitchenette, on the other side of his quarters. She held her arms across herself, stretching as she moved. 

Despite being closer to his size than any of the other races he’d interacted with, the lopel was still a good three or four feet taller. She wasn’t as muscular as say a canid, nor nowhere closer to as big as an ursidain, but her toned and fit body showed evidence of a creature that was healthy and into their fitness. 

What drew his eye was her hips. 

Casper hadn’t interacted with many lopeljacks, in fact his total was one, so he had no frame of reference if the wide hips was normal for one of her kind. Whilst her whole body was toned, she could flex her arm and muscles would bulge from beneath her fur, it was her legs that were a sight to behold. 

They looked like a mix between a cyclist’s, a runner’s and a weight lifter’s. She was in a perfect proportion, but in Casper’s unguarded state, his mind offered the idea that she could quite easily crush a watermelon between her thighs without much effort. 

He blinked suddenly as the melon was replaced with his own head, then stamped down on the thought before it got anywhere. 

His eyes then, almost guilty, paid attention to what the rump with it’s white fluffy tail and the body it was connected to, was doing, rather than ogle it. 

“Aw come on, anything but-” The young man moaned openly, closing his eyes and letting his head sag in the beginnings of a tantrum. 

“Shut it.” She ordered without hesitation. “You are eating it.” Qik cut in, as she poured more of the nutrient slurry into a bowl and began to return. She had two bowls, one in each hand. 

“For god’s sake; *why*!?” The young man demanded, more as a petulant child than a full grown adult, unwilling to take his medicine. Qik merely rose an eyebrow and sat on the bed as Casper folded his legs in.

“Because it’ll make you feel better.” The lopel explained, pressing one of the bowls into his hands. The whitish, pinkish, mush looked just as unappitising as before with a plain spoon sat in it.

“I feel better already! Better than I have in weeks.” Casper explained, looking up, really not having the appetite to go through with this. He didn’t need to eat right now, he just had to convince her. 

Qik, however, was having none of it. Hey tone was dry, despite dripping in sarcasm. 

“Wow… I wonder why? Could it be… You ate a whole portion? Like a normal person and got a shower?” She asked, stumping Casper.

“I…”

“You feel better because you aren’t starving. You did some bare minimum self care. If you don’t keep it up, you’ll feel like shit again.” She explained, nearly ticking each point off with her spare hand. 

“Now. Either you look after yourself, or have someone look after you. I’ve seen enough husk pilots and the galaxy doesn’t need another.” She concluded, spooning some of the mush into her own mouth from her own bowl and swallowing it without complaint. 

“‘Husk pilots’? The hell is a ‘husk pilot’?” Asked the young man, his curiosity peaked once more. If he was going to be a ‘merc’ he’d need to know the terms and this was the first he’d heard of this. 

“Eat that and I’ll explain. Deal?” Offered the lopel, gesturing to his untouched bowl with her spoon. Her eyebrow was still squirked, but now she wore a smirk. 

She had him. He knew it. She knew it.

“I hate you.”

“Mm, you and everybody I’ve ever gone up against. Eat.” She agreed and ordered, completely unphased as she heaped another load of the slop into her mouth. Out of options, he obeyed.

She took a moment before she spoke around another mouthful.

“Okay. So ‘husk pilot’ is just a term for someone who’s a career pilot and nothing else.” She began, looking at the ceiling as she spoke, recalling the information. 

“And I mean ‘and nothing else’. They’re good at what they do, real good, at the cost of everything else, they don’t *do* anything else..” She explained, swiping her spoon through the air, emphasising her words. 

“How do you mean?” Casper asked as he swallowed, lowering the bowl after bringing it up to his face to eat. Qik made a ‘mm’ noise, pointing at him with her spoon before swallowing and continuing. 

“Wipe your chin. So, they’re low drifters and are essentially addicted to piloting because they feel stronger or more powerful inside their rigs.” Casper used his wrist to wipe the drop of the slurry from his chin before pulling a face of agreement and nodding.

“I have to admit, it does feel… different in the rig. I feel… Better.” He admitted, the feeling of being inside a thirty foot hunk of hardware was unlikely anything he’d felt before.

“Mm, I suspect you or at least your people will be more susceptible to it. Any extended or hard campaigns, where you wont get breaks like the one we have now? You’ll be exposed to those effects by necessity.” The lopel said with a grave and serious tone. Nodding sagely as she tilted her bowl, the dregs of her meal pooling at the bottom.

“So what’s the deal?” Casper said, tilting the bowl up to his lips, consuming the last of his breakfast. 

“Ignoring their greater skill, the effect is in their body and minds. The body wastes away, they don’t use their muscles in the day and by the time they’re out of the mechs, maybe after three or four days of continuous fighting? Their bodies atrophy.” Qik explained, with a sad expression on her features. Casper suspected she had known a husk pilot before. The human’s face contorted though as he considered her words. 

“Days? What about food? Waste?” He asked, aware that one of the first things he did after piloting the training mechs was to go sit on the toilet. 

“Military or deployment caskets aren’t the same as our training ones. Same deal, but that mask they put on you? That can be a feeding tube. Likewise, the Nerve-Suits can be upgraded to handle waste and act as stillsuits.” She explained happily, as if discussing the weather. Casper grimaced. 

“Grim.” 

“Yeah, but that’s what the fighting is about. Who blinks first. The longer a pilot can be deployed, the more attrition they can pressure the other side with. Either the pilots complete the task instantly within the same day as being deployed, or they’re in it for the long haul, at least that’s my experience.” Qik tongued the back of her spoon, finishing off her own bowl.

“So… if I became a ‘husk’? What does that mean for me?” Casper asked, still curious. 

“You’d be weak. Very weak. Like ‘wheelchair usage’ weak. You’d need a more specialised food slurry and it would be pumped into you like that first time. You remember your little hospital stint way back when?” She asked with a sharp grin, the young man wasn’t certain if she was still sore about that. 

“Not something I’d want a repeat of.” He admitted truthfully. 

“I doubted as much, I’ve had to have food by nose tube before. I hate it. Anyway, more reason to not push it too far. *And*! Thanks to the wording of our joint contracts, the geckins can’t make you do a long stint.” She explained excitedly, changing the subject rather smoothly.

“We got what’s called ‘blitz’ contracts. Either the operation is do-able in a single op, or it's not a valid operation to fulfil the contract and we get half pay with the contract marked as ‘complete’.”

This caused Casper to pause. The way she spoke was as if the geckins would try something ‘cloak and dagger’ style. 

“Do you really think the geckins would be that underhanded?” Casper asked, defending them somewhat. He’d upset them, sure, by demanding he be free to leave at his pleasure, but hardly enough for them to sign him up to an operation he couldn’t do. Right?

Qik disagreed immediately. 

“Yes. Without doubt or question.” She said sternly, more so than he had heard before.

“Really?” The young man asked, not quite believing her intensity. She took a moment to gently place the now empty bowl on the bed beside her before leaning forwards, capturing his entire attention. 

“Casper… You represent something that is going to give them an edge. Not ‘could’, you ‘will do’. Already; they’ve got a ton of data that’s helping them.” She explained with a knowing tone. The young man wasn’t sure he could pick out when Qik was lying, but she’d yet to do so if he recalled. She had only wanted what was best for him, yet now she was speaking as if she knew more than she was letting on. 

Casper squinted. 

“How do you know?” He asked. The lopel paused before shrugging and giving a lopsided smile. 

“I get bored easily.” She explained cryptically. Casper thought about that for a moment, trying to make it make sense, until all he could say was…

“Huh?”

Qik grinned, picking up her bowl and taking his from his hands and bounded away. Once more, Casper’s eyes were drawn to her rear and was reminded that once more; she was stark naked. It wasn’t the same as if she were human. He couldn’t see any major characteristics, the fur that covered her, made it so to call her ‘naked’ felt… incorrect. 

His train of thoughts were derailed again as she spoke, returning to the bed. 

“I broke into their offices and read their reports.” She explained with a mischievous air and a shrug. “I can’t help it, it’s a habit. My company stopped locking the doors after a while, took the fun out of it and I stopped reading their mail.”

“But what-” Casper started, but then Qik shook her hands, shushing him as she got back on track.

“Oh yeah, look, the geckins aren’t your friends.” She pointed out, throwing herself onto the bed.  

“They aren’t happy they’re losing you and are going to do their best to keep you around. It’s not their government, so to speak, but more private organisations that want you. Deniable plausibility in my opinion, so they can’t be accused by the GC of anything shady, but these aren’t creatures you can let your guard down around. They’re logical.” She stated with a factual tone.

“That means…” Casper asked, drawing out the word to lead her to continue. The lopel pulled a face at the ceiling then continued.

“Let me put it this way. If they thought putting you on a slab would help them win the war with the ssypno, they’d have you there by the day’s end.”

Casper blinked.

“They’re at war with the ssypno?” He asked incredulously. 

“Hah, that’s actually the most straightforward part of all this.”Qik replied with a smile, turning to rest her head on her hand, laying across Casper’s bed like an artist’s model. 

“I didn’t even know.” He mumbled.

“Open secret. It’s not a ‘war’, it's ‘expansion skirmishes’. Basically some noble, years and years ago, found the geckins and tried to put them under the thumb. Geckins fought back, established themselves as independent, now the ssypno are trying to surround geckin systems with their own and the geckins are giving them a run for the money. For me and you? It's just a constant money stream.” She added with a shrug. 

The pair were silent for a moment before the lopel sat up again and touched a hand to the lump in the covers that was Casper’s foot.

“Look, long story short? Don’t trust anyone but yourself and secondly, your company. Don’t let the geckins trick you or force you into a corner. It won't be pretty. And finally? You’ll need to be ready to fight, sooner rather than later.” She said with a tone that was as dangerous as a loaded gun with the hammer cocked back.

Even Casper didn’t miss the barely hidden warning.

“Wait… Why? Why did you say it like that?”

The lopel raised her communicator. 

“I got the message when we woke up. Fight’s back on. We’re to be deployed.”

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #Lopeljack #rabbit

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 8

Casper knew there was something wrong straight away, albeit he didn't know what exactly had just happened. He had felt a flare of pain and suddenly his entire chest felt heavy, it didn't feel right. That alone was enough to set his mind racing.

His mind, supported by the software, warned him of the horrific damaged caused by the over-penetrating strike. There was shock, his brain dumped as many chemicals as it thought would help immediately into his own system, but the software listed his problems very neatly, allowing him to prioritise.

His optics clicked as he struggled, it was as if someone had strapped a thick, unyielding, belt across and around his torso, before heaving it as tight as they could possibly make it. His arm lowered, still holding the sword aloft in his victory pose, it's spout of intense heat dying and going out. His hand, still grasping the hilt, touched at his chest, he was still intact, he could see the metal, it's paint was scratched and marred, but he wasn't destroyed.

He wanted to sigh in relief, to breathe, to take in a steadying breath and clear this tightness.

Casper did what he had always done, and breathed deep, only for the vents across his chest, to remain closed. They twitched and sparked, but unlike every time before, where they had opened and flooded his heart with the rich oxygen of the training fields, this time they stayed closed. If Casper's face could contort, show worry, or perhaps fear, it would have. Instead, his optics clicked and whirred, the camera apertures dilating in panic.

He stumbled forward and tried again. 'Steady. Breathe in through the nose.'

The giant pair of intake turbines that sat within his chest, sputtered, and sparked. The connection to the main unit meant they received the order to spin up, to feed the furnace that was sat at the centre of his chest, but they couldn't comply. One of the turbines was outright gone. The majority of it was now scattered in a straight line leading away from the rig, following the path of the super dense round.

The other turbine tried it's best and the blades began to move, but they were sluggish. The metal blades caught and screeched as they scratched debris into the housing of the intake. The devastation of the round hadn't just destroyed internal systems, it had peppered the untouched areas with super-heated fragments that melted and burn holes in a sea of critical parts.

Qik's shot was perfectly landed, exactly right, to cause the whole machine to shutdown safely and eject the pilot. A kill shot. The average machine would be completely disabled. The machine that had just taken her shot, weeks before, was a mere object. It was inert as a rock, simply complicated in makeup. It too, would have fallen over with any other pilot.

But the spirit that drove this thing, that worked as the masterful conductor that led the collection of lifeless parts into movement and action had willed his mind and personality into all things. The amps in the wires pulsed like a heartbeat. The ones and zeros that may have made up the many layers of software may have begun as cold, unfeeling systems, now in fact; *desired* to work as intended. Emotion drove this machine as much as logic did.

The batteries sprung awake, switching from charging to output; the reactor was without O2! 'Turbines! To life!' They screamed.

Turbine Two was KIA and remained silent. The machine would mourn its loss later.

Turbine One was severely wounded, but it's fans could move. It could do its job. The turbine added as much torque to its fans as it could to push past the debris and get the airflow back!

The batteries, working in tandem, broke protocol and devoted more power than normal to the last remaining lifeline. The computerised systems, guided by the pilot's will to live, instantly stepped in and disconnected all the hard locked safety features, overclocking its systems beyond any recommended redline. Dying was not merely turning off, it was the great oblivion. The machine had no desire to turn to off for the final time. It wasn't ready to go yet.

Geckin engineers would be baffled later reading the reports. This machine should have seen the danger in still going and ejected the pilot to safety; away from the potential explosion of a reactor that was online, but without oxygen. But unbeknownst to them, the software was faced with a millennia of survival instincts of the pilot's layered mind. A thousand computer specialists, backed by an army of wet work AIs; couldn't have resisted the sheer force of will from Casper as his mind, dropping into survival instincts and, the lizard, the mammal, and the ape, all demanding his body to live.

His body was the machine, the machine would comply. It *would* live.

Turbine One's fan blades completed a rotation, then a second, and a third before it's RPM began to sore once more! One fan blade was sparking as it caught the casing, but it didn't matter; the 02 intake was climbing!

The vents across the mech's chest slapped open and the exhausts at the back belched an unhealthy-looking plume of black smoke. Casper had power, one lung was collapsed, but he could breathe. He could fight. He turned to the threat he felt like heat across the side of his face. His sensor suite was untouched and knew the exact point of danger.

Qik rose her rig's 'head' up to observe the human's rig stumble forward after taking the hit, just like he was supposed to. But then he straightened, black smoke rising from him, and looked her way. He wasn't supposed to do that. Qik's rig ducked its head and lined up another shot. She'd taken out hundreds of geckin pilots with that exact same shot, the pilot's will to go on didn't matter; the mech should have deactivated and ejected him away. This was the final lesson, this was supposed to be routine.

'Tough bastard.' But Qik kept that thought to herself.

Casper wasn't even thinking at this point, all he could see was red. He was hurt! Injured! There was danger! Run! Fight! Hide! Run! Fight! Hide!

The optics instantly clicked, focusing, and seeing the former ally crouched in the mouth of the hangers, with a giant weapon pointed his way. Red targeting highlights marked her.

Unbidden, the software told his animalistic mind that Qik was pointing a Maestrik 120mm/L61 cannon his way. Despite never seeing this weapon before, Casper knew it was unwieldy, unsuitable for active warzones, with the exception of fortified positions and overwatch operations. She had advantage, side to side movement wouldn't help. It was fully capable of destroying him with a single round, regardless of the ammunition loaded. There was no hiding, not even going to ground could protect him from what was pointed at him. There was no retreat. There was no hiding.

All this information was instantly provided and understood by the three layers of the human's brain before the lopeljack could prepare the next shot.

"Fight!" The Ape, The Mammal and The Lizard, all screamed in unison. The machine obeyed.

His mech launched forwards at the threat. 

Turbine One on its own couldn't feed enough O2 into the boosters to bring him closer to the danger in time, the calculations all declared he would fail. With the safeguards gone however, the software whispered that he had a chance... The reactor was willed into overdrive, spinning it up to maximum output, damning the consequences. The rods inside would eventually melt through the metal housing, but it would give him the edge! The boosters on Casper's back, usually gave off a lovey blue and white jet that burnt clean when it activated, but the flames that spewed out now, pushing his speed past what was possible on his own, was a dirty yellow, smoke and smog billowing out as a trail before it began to slowly change to blue in colour as the core temperature began to cascade upwards.

Qik was ready now, as Casper closed the distance. His rig raised the metal shield still bolted to his arm up, to protect his body, all the while the top of his recon unit's casing poked over the top; his optics never once leaving her.

'A good hunter's eyes never wander...' She mused.

The barrel roared and the entire atmosphere in the hanger warped and hiccupped as the force and concussive blast of the gun sent anything not firmly nailed down, flying. The round travelled the short distance in less than a blink. The world was moving in slow motion for Casper, so his optics saw the point of the spinning round as it destroyed one half of his reconnaissance unit. The round whistled into the distance, destroying several banks of dirt before eventually burying itself into the dirt. The rig flinched with the force of the shot, turning with the resulting air vortex of the round, but it was only a moment's distraction before the tiny red dot in the centre of the optic's aperture locked onto to Qik once more.

Cold. Dispassionate. Casper kept going.

Catastrophic damage was registered across his face, he'd lost radio, sensors and lidar, but the enemy was in front of him, he had committed and considered nothing else now. He cocked his arm, aligning the sword's hilt over the top of his shield to plunge it into the enemy's chest as soon as she was in range. He just needed a few more seconds.

The third and final shell tore Casper in half.

The vortex the shell created, added to the damage done by the round to the mech's midsection, disconnected both legs and sent the torso falling forwards, rolling into the dirt. A moment later, a small armoured circular aperture opened, and a tiny, human sized sarcophagus was fired into the sky, away from the unit's corpse. The reactor ignited and the mech began to burn and melt. It would continue to do so for several hours before it eventually laid there as a ruined husk into the night.

To Casper, he didn't feel the damage that 'killed' him, but he felt what it was like for his soul to be torn from his body. Like a crustation or arachnid, he felt his arms and legs be pulled from within the mech's limbs, shedding them like an old moult. He was pulled up, gathered into a tiny pathetic ball, and thrown from the back of the mech into the sky before he was deadened to the sensations of the world once more and thrust into the void. It was a mental trauma unlike anything else, Casper *knew* what it was like to die in violence now and for his very soul to be ripped from its home.

In the void, Casper wailed. Screaming into the nothingness at the awful sensations that he had just been forced through. He only stopped when he felt the exhaustion of the recent events catch up to him.

== 0 ==

Wren watched the pilot sarcophagus with disconnected professionalism. The engineering crew were well trained and moved with purpose and fluidity. The seal popped and the biological team stepped up. One of theirs stepped down into the casket and hooked two fabric loops under something out of Wren's sight. The geckin doctor knew it would be the human's arms.

At a curt hand signal to the crane operator, the human was lifted from the coffin-like structure, limp and unmoving. His body was slick with sweat and the room stank of his odour. It always did. Wren had hidden her disgust the first few times, but once she realised that the human was barely even conscious when he was retrieved from the mech, she'd stopped trying. He was lowered and gracelessly placed onto a gurney next to her. At least he hadn't vomited on himself this time. It wasn't that she cared for him, it just smelt even worse.

Wren knew other species felt emotions differently to geckins, she was a biologist after all, knowing how they thought was how they were winning the ongoing war with the ssypno. So, with 'Casper', she had adopted the persona of a care giver. It was a fairly easy act to pull off, she 'cooed' and 'fussed' over the human to ensure his cooperation, but that was no longer needed. He was obviously addicted to the Full Submersion Control, but its effects were lasting for the human. It took him time to recover where he was disoriented. Not to mention he was no longer property under the control of the geckin people. Damn that lopel for poisoning her hard work. Zeet had genuinely cared for the creature, thrilled to have found a worthy pilot for his life's work. Wren just wanted to peel back his skull and see how to recreate his strengths.

Now she was frustratingly obligated to tick the boxes to protect the geckin people. Mostly from the ire of the GC, should they ask what welfare checks they had put in place and attempt to accuse them of damaging the rarest species if all this went the way they expected. For all their faults, they would claim their tails should the geckins be found wanting in this regard. Falling out of their graces would do no good for keeping ssypno aggression in check.

"Sit him up." She ordered, stepping up the creature. Her research had come on leaps and bounds. The idea of near zero drift was unheard of and very, very interesting to the geckin private sector that paid for Wren's research. The geckin government had stepped away and had stopped protecting him now that the human was destined to no longer be their problem.

Wren sneered in uncovered disgust as she looked him over. Its flesh was clammy and pale, lacking the protection or brilliance of scales. When it had arrived, its flesh was pinkish brown. There were sections and areas where he was outright pale, obviously the skin was always covered by clothing in these areas, but now his skin was uniformly ashen, nearly grey throughout.

"Touch your fingers." She ordered curtly, raising her voice and getting a reaction from the creature. More of a flinch than acknowledgment. He didn't comply at first, his eyes, dull now, searching the room before finding her. She raised her arms and effortlessly touched her fingertips to her thumbs in a series, prompting him. She didn't like how his lips looked damaged, as if he'd been chewing them. Normal? Or a side effect?

"Touch your fingers." She instructed again, bored of this already. Her claws clacked against each other, giving a 'tik, tik, tik' sound that felt loud in the hanger bay.

The human complied, slowly raising his hands which both shook violently, as if he were shivering. It was slow at first. The task was to touch his thumb to the tips of each of his fingertips in a row, then back. He missed or made a fist at first before slowly coming back to his real body. It was as if they were training a pilot inside a mech, but the other way around. After a minute or so, he succeeded, Wren wasted no time.

"Touch your toes."

This one he did right away. She used to make him stand up and stretch, without bending his knees to touch his toes. Now he merely folded them at the knee while he sat there and brushed his hand against any part of his foot that he could reach. Good enough to her; instructions didn't say not to bend his knees.

"You're fine, get food and rest. No piloting tomorrow." More than enough medical care to appease a board. How 'kind' of her to prevent him from piloting for his welfare.

The human nodded, before shuffling towards the edge of the gurney and gingerly touching his toes to the floor. As he left, his gait was like a corpse that had come back to life, shuffling and lurching from one leg to the other. He wrapped his arms around himself and almost fell forwards, away from the geckins. He now walked as the geckin biological community had expected his gait when they had heard there was a biped species without a tail. Wren had turned back to her notes before Casper had left the hanger, before eventually disappearing from sight.

Wren merely sighed, already dismissing him from her mind. She'd like to get access to his brain before any long-term damage or even sudden damage occurred to it. But she'd settle for the plan offered by her benefactors. Either way, she'd get to play with that brain once it was in her lab, she often won these games if she just remained patient.

== 0 ==

"Casper?" Asked a voice, causing the formley lone occupant of the corridor to blink. He had been slumped against a wall, still standing, but gathering his strength. The haggard young man turned and looked back the way he had come, to now find the lopel mercenary, Qik standing there. He frowned, unsure if she was actually in the corridor with him, and reached out a hand to ensure she was real. She raised her own hand and caught his with ease.

"Hey Qik, sorry, I was daydreaming." Casper murmured before pulling his hand back before she caught the tremor that wouldn't stop. His skin physically ached where the soft pads of her hands had touched him.

"Sounds fun. Shall we get you to your quarters?" She asked, tilting her head, and watching him curiously. Casper merely nodded and made a concerted effort to walk with his back straight and steady rhythm to where his door waited for him. He touched the back of his hand to the sensor and the door slid aside with a hiss.

He stepped in, holding back a sigh until he was alone but was surprised when Qik followed without waiting for an invitation. He released his sigh and merely keyed the door shut behind her, too tired to protest. Ignoring her, he began to walk over to his bed, fully intending on falling into it until he woke up again. Qik's words caused him to pause and turn to look at her.

"I'm sorry I shot you." Qik started, feeling oddly guilty. "I'm sorry I shot you multiple times..." She added after a moment's consideration. She was a mercenary; he was hardly the first person she had shot. She hadn't even hurt him. But she felt... guilt. She knew that he felt truly connected to his rigs, whatever configuration they were. She didn't like to think whether he felt anything more than damage reports.

The human shrugged, his eyes were sunken, darkened and bruised as if he'd been hit in the face. He looked bone tired, smelt ill and his clothes, the human made tshirt he had arrived in that he wore now, hung off him. He'd lost weight. More then that, he'd stopped caring for himself and the geckin were obviously not offering that support either. They wouldn't now he'd played his hand and burnt bridges to leave.

"You're not having something to eat?" She asked, noting the pile of mess in his kitchen area.

"I'm not hungry." Casper explained simply, before going silent. With nothing more to say, he merely turned, shuffled again towards the oversized bed and physically collapsed into it. Clothes and all.

Qik blinked.

She was a mercenary of renown. The only reason she'd been stuck here for so long was because she was a lopel of her word, she'd signed a contract and would not leave until she completed that. It was a lifetime of work to gain a reputation of professionalism, but all it took was one bad contract and all that could be shaken. For her to be free once more, she just needed the next fight. She didn't *need* the human.

However.

In all her time as a mercenary, she'd seen many different types of pilots. Some were disconnected and professional about their work. Others were passionate, taking each contract as a bet against their own pride or skill. Not to mention the whole spectrum between.

So Qik had seen pilots like Casper before, they were the ones who had got into the trade for the wrong reasons. Money, Fear, Fleeing justice. It didn't matter, they were without hope and slowly wasted away. The lopel wasn't blind, she could see and hear just how animated the human became inside his rig. How withdrawn he was without it. He was addicted. It was obvious and should be obvious to him too.

But no one had explained about the seduction of the machine to him. No one had taken them under their wing, to explain that he had to care for himself. To know there was more than just the machine or eventually he wouldn't be able to pilot anything again. She was training him, yes, but did that mean that he was her responsibility? She didn't want an apprentice. She had just needed a way of salvaging her reputation from when he had first piloted a mech and fluked a draw.

She closed her eyes and sighed, turning her arm over and running two fingers over the bald circle on her inner forearm. It was one of the ports where she connected to her own rig. No one had taught her anything, she'd learnt it all the hard way.

But... she had to admit... She would have liked it if someone to have given a shit about her when she had started out...

Without a word, she left the main room to find the bathroom unit off to one side. As she fiddled with the dials, the large tub began to fill with hot water that steamed in the cold air of the living space. The console would handle the filling and dispensing of cleaning products into the fresh water.

As she watched the water rise, Qik considered how ace pilots often felt powerful inside a mech. They felt invincible. It *was* addictive. With their low drift, it meant there were very few reminders that the machine was not the ace's body. It was only the hiccups and delayed orders that brought pilots back to reality. The rigs were as dangerous to the enemy as they were to themselves.

As the tub filled, Qik strode over to the kitchen, where a pile of half-eaten high-nutrient slurry trays lay discarded. It only took her a few minutes, but she binned it all and filled a fresh bowl, warming it until it was piping hot. The slurry wasn't great, the appearance was of a lumpy mush and the taste was about the same. But if Casper ate two trays per day, he'd maintain his weight. If she could get three in him, he might actually gain something back onto his bones. The human was far too thin, no way was he an example of a 'healthy' human right now.

The bathroom unit pinged and one of the lopeljack's ears twitched. The bath was ready and an appropriate temperature.

Casper was so far gone that he barely woke as Qik rolled him gently onto his back. She removed his clothes with careful, respectful hands before slipping her arms beneath his knees and around his shoulders. He weighed nothing to her. He wasn't as small as a geckin, far from it, but even with her limited knowledge, he shouldn't be this light.

Walking the short distance, without his shirt, she paid attention to his body. She analysed it, like a doctor or field medic, dispassionate to his nudity. His ribs were well defined through the skin, and his collarbone stretched the thin looking skin taut. He looked like a refugee.

She shook her head as she gently lowered him into the steaming water, careful not to shock him or jostle him too much. His body jerked at the touch of water, and pale blue eyes cracked open, his head lolling limply against her arm as she settled him in the water. One hand never left him as she grabbed a washcloth and applied soap, before beginning to gently wash his body.

"...What... What are you doing?"

"I'm looking after you." She explained carefully. She used short, clear sentences, loud and curt enough to hear him, but softened the usual edge to her voice.

"I'm.. f-fine." He mumbled, trying to assure her he didn't need effort on his part.

"You don't look fine Casper, does anything hurt?" She asked, paying attention to dark splotches that created odd patches on his back. It could be bruising from when the pilot sarcophagus came back down to earth after being ejected from the rig. She asked her question and deliberately ran the cloth over these patches, noticing the flinch in the human's body.

"That... that uh..." He murmured, still very much confused and muddled, his voice went up an octave, wincing again. If Qik didn't miss her guess, she suspected he was in shock.

"A bit tender?" She asked softly.

"Uh huh." He mumbled, nodding his head jerkily. She let him sit back against the edge of the bath and began washing down his arms.

"Is there anything else that's bothering you? Anything else you can tell me about Casper?" She asked again, using his name to bring him back.

"My skin... hurts..." He admitted, blinking back tears, his eyes, already bloodshot, now swimming.

"It's the Nerve-Suit, the water will help it pass Casper, you're doing great. We just need to get you clean, okay?" She assured him, gently wiping over his chest, then continuing down his other arm.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

"You shot me... I... Don't... Didn't..." He was confused, in shock, did he think she had hit him because he had angered her?

"It's okay Casper. It wasn't your fault; you did everything correctly. It was just the final lesson, to teach you the limits of your mech, to know that you can't let your guard down. To know..." She looked into his eyes before she finished her sentence. She was gladdened to see that his eyes were awake... and aware. She blinked and gave him a rueful smile.

"To know you're not invincible." She finished, touching a warm, wet paw to his cheek. Touching him, reminding him that he could feel things. Casper sighed and closed his eyes, his hand reaching up and gingerly hold the back of her hand. They stayed there for a moment, Qik not rushing him in any way.

Eventually, he reached for the cloth.

"I'll... finish..." He explained, before adding "I needed this I think."

Qik just gave a knowing smirk.

"'You think'?" She snorted. "Don't doubt me if I tell you to do something. Deal?" Demanded the lopel as she relinquished the cloth to the human's hands. In the brief moment that they touched her hand, she felt the warmth in his skin again. The cold clammy feeling of his skin, no more. He still looked sickly however, and the cheekbones that dominated his face told her of what else he needed.

"Deal." The human said, squeezing the cloth and began washing himself, seemingly losing the self-conscious taboo that had held sway over him whenever they got changed together. Qik stood and left the bathroom, striding over to the kitchen and retrieving the slurry bowl. She picked up a spoon and returned. The human glanced up, his eyes flicking to the bowl and grimaced.

"Oh, come o-..." He began, but the merc was having none of it.

"You will eat." Qik declared. The young man's shoulders sagged, and he nodded, briefly running the wash cloth down his legs.

Qik folded herself down, dipping the spoon into the white and pinkish goop, before offering it to him.

"This is embarrassing." Casper bemoaned before having the spoon ladle the mixture onto his tongue where he didn't need to chew before swallowing. They repeated these three or four times whilst Qik replied.

"Then it's a lesson. Feed yourself after each deployment and I don't need to do this. Every time you don't; either me or someone from our company will do it." She grinned wickedly. "Can't wait to see some of the guys playing 'here comes the draconian' with you." She teased, knowing that it was not an idle threat, even if he didn't know yet.

"I'll eat. I promise I'll eat." Casper swore around a mouthful before swallowing again. "How come I've... wasted away like this?" His hands gestured to himself, the tendons standing proud. She considered her words before explaining.

"Ignoring you not eating, FSC is intensive. Your brain is working full time to control every single subsystem of the rig. Brains are hungry. Lack of any food and it'll eat away at you instead." Qik pointed out succinctly.

"How come you don't look like this then?" Casper asked, while Qik noticed his wandering eyes. She wasn't annoyed.

"I'm a career girl. I look after myself. I exercise, I eat, I get sunlight. All mechs, all the time? That's a fast track to being a husk. Plus, it's a shallower slope for us lopels to slip down." She added at the end, spoon finally hitting the bottom of the bowl as she continued to feed Casper, despite him having both hands free again. The water was a different colour now... The filth and grime finally removed from him.

"How do you mean?" He asked.

"It's all about your drift. You could out manoeuvre me, quite easily. Sure, my training might give me an edge, but you've got that beginner's chaos, trained pilots won't know how to handle you, you make choices that aren't normal. The lack of drift means your brain is handling more, however. Less drift, more intense the usage. I have about one, maybe two percent drift. As long as I take breaks, look after myself, eat my veggies; I'll keep myself looking fine." She said, putting the empty bowl to one side. It was only mild, but she felt that he had gained a bit of colour in his cheeks.

Casper sloshed the water as he brought his hand up to look at his fingers. The water was beginning to prune them. He touched his thumb to his fingertips in series, then did it the other way. Perfect each time.

He felt... human again.

"Since you're pretty much done with training now, we need to think of your callsign." The lopel who was still crouched next to him said nonchalantly. She was currently resting her arms on the edge of the bath, still sat on the floor, with her chin resting on her arms as she watched him.

"My callsign?"

"New Guy doesn't really inspire 'fear', does it?" She asked. Casper blinked and realised that she was talking sense, again. He'd need something, a name that connects to him personally. He thought of what he knew of callsigns and decided he needed a 'cool' one.

"Maverick?" He offered.

"*No*." The rabbit-like alien snapped. "There's like a million 'Mavericks' and they're all assholes." Qik immediately retorted, shooting that idea down rather rapidly. Casper sighed and grimaced at the water again, it was actually gross, now that he thought about it.

"I think I need to get out."

"Mm, water's gone bad." Qik agreed, standing and grabbing a towel. The large cut of fabric was designed for larger species than the geckins, the whole living quarters were, but seemingly for something just a bit bigger than a human. Like a lopeljack. The lopel grinned and looked away, holding the towel out as a makeshift curtain as the human stepped from the bath, intending on grabbing the towel from her.

Instead, the lopel grabbed the human into the towel, covering him briefly, spinning him in place, before escaping into the living area, laughing at the human's indignant squawk.

Casper freed himself and glared at the retreating short, stumpy, white fluffy tail of the lopel and had to consider it was a nice view. Turning to the bathroom counter, above the sinks was a mirror that reflected everything. There was a pale monster in the room with him.

Casper, blinking, focused and realised the creature was *him*. He was truly pale and gaunt. He'd known that he'd lost weight over his training, but this was dramatic. He looked sick. He looked *dead*.

"I really do look like a ghost..." He agreed to no one.

"What's a 'ghost'?" Called Qik, doing *something* in the other room. Running water and clinking gave the man hints.

"Uh.. A ghost, a spectre. The dead with unfinished business. They're usually really pale; you can't always see them. They can be friendly, or they can be pretty nasty. We got kid's tales and horror stories of all kinds with ghosts." He explained, leaning forwards and pulling the darkened flesh around his eyes taut, feeling how thin it felt.

Qik's head appeared around the doorframe in the mirror, pulling his attention.

"Perfect. You're 'Spectre' then." The head disappeared immediately, leaving Casper frowning before whipping his around to stare at the empty space incredulously.

"Excuse me?" The young man demanded, feeling energy diffuse him like no meal or sleep could.

"Would you prefer the callsign; Ghost?" 

"Aw man, that's too on the nose! My name is *Casper* for Christ's sake!"

"And 'Maverick' the single most overused callsign was a better idea? Nah, I'm your sponsor into the company, I'm registering you as either 'Spectre' or 'Ghost'."

"For fucks sake." Casper groaned, leaving the bathroom to find the lopel had tided the kitchen very neatly, and was now flicking the heavy blanket out, neatening it and preparing the bed.

"Come on. Bed. I don't know about you, but I'm tired." She ordered, merely tilting her head..

"Together?" The young man asked, glancing from the bed to the merc.

"Yes. My place is on the other side of the complex because they didn't trust that I wouldn't kill you in your sleep for breaking my mech first time round." She explained as if explaining something simple or obvious. Casper merely blinked and stared.

"Is that true?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah, I got bored when they were building your second rig and broke into the offices." She remembered with a grin, placing a fist on her hip. "Read their comments that they were worried I'd end you, but those files prove that they got their dirty little claws into all sorts of devious shit." Qik explained in a false hushed whisper.

Casper walked over and at her urging clambered into the bed first as she continued.

"Honestly, I can't wait to get out of here, I think you'll do better away as well. We just gotta' play smart." She explained, crowding him by swinging a leg under the covers and using her wide hips to bounce him further into the covers. The lopeljack was certainly bottom heavy, whilst her top half was muscled, her hips and thighs were exaggerated, but not unpleasant to look at from Casper's perspective.

Now they shared his bed.

He lay there for a time as the lights winked out and stayed dead still, facing the ceiling with his hands resting on his stomach, over the covers. He wasn't expecting a visitor, nor for the lopel to ever enter his bed. Whilst the young man felt a thousand times better than he did before getting home, he was now more confused than when he had been freshly pulled from the pilot's casket.

There was the sound of movement to his left and he felt the mattress warp as Qik turned over.

"Turn away from me." She instructed. Unthinking, he complied, turning to his right and facing the wall, more confused than embarrassed now.

A silky soft, muscular furry arm, snaked underneath his head, whilst a large warm body shuffled and pressed into his back. A lopeljack was taller than a human, reaching nine feet with ease, and hitting ten or even eleven if one included the ears. Her knees easily pressed into the back of his own as he was scooped into her hug and her other arm came round and over to hold him in place.

"What are-" He started, but Qik was ready.

"I can't sleep unless im hugging a pillow. Yours are too small, and I left mine at mine, so you'll have to do." She explained, her short muzzle working its way in and against the short, buzz cut of his head. She gently rubbed her face against him before settling.

"We're..." Casper began, but didn't know where the sentence was going. Noticing his hesitance, Qik settled matters.

"We're all snuggled, like two rounds in a mag. Don't think about it... just relax..." She whispered, gently squeezing his middle into her.

He laid there for a time, blinking, feeling her chest rise and fall as she laid there. He wanted to panic, to perhaps ask if she was sure? But... he was tired. His eyelids drooped and despite himself jerking awake once or twice, eventually he settled into a sleep that as so deep, even when Qik unintentionally turned over an hour later, dragging him with her; Casper never stirred even once.

Qik placed a finger under his nose to ensure he was still breathing in that moment, but relaxed when her fur ruffled under his breath and then she too, fell asleep.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #lopeljack #rabbit

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 7

"That went well." Qik said as she slipped a foot into the nerve suit's trouser leg while Casper was currently running his fingernails across the top of his scalp, itching it vigorously. The man glared at the messy cap of hair that had plagued him for the last hour.

He'd had to wear it for the entire interview with a GC representative. All a giant farse to hide the fact that as a 'critically endangered species' mere months of living in geckin space, Caper was now piloting thirty-foot mechs that had the potential of killing him if he took a bad hit.

"I want to burn this." He said bluntly, glaring at the ridiculous yellow, blonde wing that was more in place on a fictional character than real life.

"Do it, throw it into the furnace." Qik shrugged, as she shimmied into the Nerve-Suit, its shiny material hugging her curves in ways that made the human stare quite openly. Qik was slim, sleek, and athletic. Her abdominal muscles showed through her fur quite easily and the 'skintight' Nerve-Suit only emphasised that further. His eyes greedily drank in the way the light played over the smooth contours. He blinked, snapping back to reality. Why was it hard to concentrate?

"Uhh, I... Can't. That was it. It belongs to a geckin, not part of the military. But... why did they have a wig?" Casper asked, holding it in his hands and squinting at the item, trying to distract himself from the toned leg that was parked on the bench next to him as Qik adjusted and made sure the suit was in place.

"Apparently they had a fantasy of a human. Or a facsimile." Qik explained as Casper put it aside and began to disrobe.

"What do you mean?" He asked as he turned away from her to remove his underwear, still suffering from the human-made taboo of being undressed in front of the opposite gender. He'd discovered that, that was not a common fear amongst the stars. Humans were the odd one out for how much they cared about separating the genders. Even on his public ID, it didn't have his gender listed.

"Humans aren't new in some parts of the galaxy apparently." Qik began, fists now on her hips whilst she openly stared at Casper as he donned the stretchy Nerve-Suit. "You might have only been officially part of the GC for like, six months? But it seems that Ssypno media has human-things running around long before then. Rumours and shit. This geckin was a human lover." The lopel mercenary finished with a grin.

Casper frowned and ensured his suit was donned correctly, trying to line up the needle holes with the red welts that covered his ashen skin.

"Human lover, before humans were found. Sounds like a-abduct-..."

Casper blinked as the changing room was suddenly filled with a deafening roar, he tried to say something, but nothing came out as he became lightheaded and lost his balance. Toppling forwards, strong arms and hands grabbed him, arresting his fall. It took a moment for his legs to work and lift himself back up, knees shaking. He looked down at the brown fur and black latex covered arms holding him.

Qik.

Noise from behind his ear. She was saying something. He took a guess, not wanting her to know how far gone he was.

"Dizzy... Just a bit dizzy." As he was sat down on the bench with her help. "Got up too quick."

"You been eating?" Qik asked, her face close to his. She had knelt down and held his head between both of her hands, peering into his eyes, using her thumb to pull his eyelid down slightly and observed him. They were warm. Her hands were so warm and blocked out the world and the roaring noise. He gently reached up and touched her hands, not quite holding her there, but ensuring she didn't pull away too quickly.

"Yeah..." He lied, the young man hadn't been hungry recently. He'd nibbled the nutritional mush but had poured most of it down the toilet before going to bed. He felt fine, he'd felt this way before, and knew the moment he was back in the rig, he'd be better than fine once more.

The brown furred rabbit-like alien merely frowned, then clicked her tongue. She let go, much to his disappointment.

"Come on then. We're testing live weapons today. No more simulations. You're going to need a pick-me-up." She decided on his behalf, her voice moving away.

Blinking, Casper willed himself to concentrate, to get back in the room and turned his head to find the alien rifling through her jacket's inner pockets. She pulled a tiny hard packet and held it between two fingers, holding it to the light. Standing back up, her legs going on for days, she cat-walked back over to where he was sat and folded herself back down.

She took the packet, snapped it in half and held it to Casper's nose with one hand, while the other grasped the back of his head, preventing him from retreating.

"Sniff. Once and hard." She ordered, eyes fixing him in place.

He trusted her, Casper complied.

Immediately he felt better. The second he finished inhaling, his lungs breathed out through his mouth and his vision became notably clearer. His eyes felt as if he had put drops into them. The tightness in the back of his skull was gone. He wasn't high or wired. There wasn't a tremble to his hands like when he had, had too much coffee, but in a matter of seconds; he was awake and alert once more. Qik nodded at his eyes focusing on her a moment later. Even his legs felt strong and ready, the tremble, gone as if it were never there.

"It's not a fix, but it keeps you on point during extended missions. It'll get you through today. You'll need to eat tonight though. Come on. Let's get going." She explained, patting his knee and standing up right, leaving his head at hip height.

== 0 ==

Casper received a message from Qik. These were public knowledge, and Qik never spoke of private matters over these messages as anyone could have been reading them. At least while they were operating under geckin jurisdiction.

{Okay New Guy, first up. Heavy weapon frames.}

Qik's rig was running ahead, the spiked ends of her rig's legs tip toeing across the landscape like she was merely a thirty-foot mech running through a feel of daisies. As the pair of them left the safety of the hangers and went to the wider, more deserted firing ranges for the rigs, Casper was reminded that they were travelling a not insignificant distance at high speed.

Casper's rig was running alongside her, but it was more of a skip, where his massive metal feet kicked at the earth and his booster suite, fit to his back, propelled him forwards in great leaps and bounds. It didn't matter which way he wanted to move, the directional jets would automatically move with his desires, and fire as one, launching the human rig in a complete 3D space. Even up into the sky, although jumping was ill-advised at most times.

While Qik's rig was armoured and designed to be fast and deadly, offering her an all-round offence and defence, Casper's rig was an 'ultralight', designed to not *be* hit, by being faster than the opponent. It suited his style, fast and accurate, avoiding confrontation if he could. The near zero drift of his connection to his rig meant that plenty of effort was put into freedom of movement of the machine. If his body could do it in 'real life', he could do it inside his rig. Even jumping, the engineering crew of the geckins had put a lot of thought into shock absorbers, just to prevent the utter destruction of the suit from one bad landing.

It had gone so far that Qik had been tasked with teaching the young man how to roll and fall safely on crash mats in the real world. He hated those lessons; his biological side was even weaker now... not like his mechanical body. It had yet to fail him even once.

The new received message caught his full attention.

{Heavy weapon frames are equipment packages that are launched into the combat area during the softening barrages. To the enemy, it could be an unexploded ordinance. To you? It's a power up.} Casper felt *something* ahead, it made him giddy. It was something pleasant. Something good. Like a 'blip' in his mind, he made a straight line for it.

The pair of the giant rigs came up to the lip of a crater. At the centre, in the lowest part of the divot, was a metal lid. Without prompting the lid pinged off and a weapon package appeared from the ground.

{Approach it.}

Casper complied, sliding down the loose dirt with more ease than should have been possible. The loose dirt of the craters had toppled more than one mech in the past. As he approached however, the package unfolded, and an autocannon revealed itself to him. Without training, the software of the rig stepped in and he instantly knew how to equip the item. It was always odd when the software packages that were part of his rig inserted their knowledge in places that he had previously no experience.

He had not known to aim for joints to disable a mech's weapons or movement. He did not know that pilots were almost always situated between the shoulders at the back of the mech. He didn't know, to duck his head and shoulder the weapon platform, nor how to all clicked and clunked into place. But now, thanks to the software, he knew it by instinct. The moment he needed the information; it was there, in his mind as if he had merely forgotten it.

Casper stood up straight, shouldering the platform and felt the weight. He could feel that his movement was lessened dramatically, bending his knees under the weight.

[Its heavy.] He sent.

{You're not going to be able to boost or move at your normal speed with that thing. This is a shoot, empty the weapon, then bug out package.}

[Speed is life?] He sent with mild hope she would get the reference.

{Yes, that's a very good motto to keep in your head. Now, that mountain over there insulted us, fire at will.} She demanded, and a pockmarked slab of rock was pinged as a target. His optics tracked it perfectly, so did the cannon. The cannon was easy to use. It was as if Casper had gained a third eye, one that followed exactly where the barrel was pointing. It was no harder to aim the weapon than it was to cross or uncross one's eyes. It took concentration, an effort, but no more than that. A mild effort to aim an oversized tank cannon.

If Casper could smile, he would have, he settled for clicking his optics. The satisfying clunk and explosion of the weapon rattled the entire frame of Casper's rig with each round. His shots, despite aiming somewhat carefully, went far wider than he expected. It certainly wasn't as accurate as he wanted, so he knelt low and aimed his shots instead of firing wildly, tensing his arm.

Clunk.

Clunk.

Clunk.

The shells of the expended ordinance flew out the side of the cannon, away from his rig until they dented the earth. He was watching the rounds carefully as they arced, however. He was pleased when each hit the centre of the previous round's explosion, visibly boring into the side of the mountain until entire sections began to crumble and begin a rockslide now that gravity wanted its due.

Each time Casper willed the weapon to fire, not pulling any mechanical trigger, he felt a counter in his mind. Like each fired round made him lighter, and emptier until finally nothing more happened. He knew that he had nothing left in this weapon.

{You're out, that equipment is now nothing more than extra weight. Eject it.}

Casper shrugged and pins fired as one. The new frame that had locked around Casper's rig fell to pieces, freeing him. Immediately he felt his spine lengthen and had to resist the urge to bounce on the spot with the returned freedom. His rig twisted and flexed, while Qik's rig merely watched on, still as a statue. His rig's arms extended, then returned, shadow boxing in the open air.

{You really feel more alive out here, don't you?}

[You have no idea...]

{Tell me about it, we got more stuff to try, Southeast.}

A new 'blip' appeared in the distance. It was a curious sensation, like there was a physical presence touching his forehead when he looked in that direction. The software, melding perfectly with his nerves. The pair of them began their run once more, bounding over hills and along valleys. Casper breathed deep, the vents across his chest opening fully, reducing his armour, but allowing his reactor to run hotter. Everything was in sync.

He was the mech. The mech was the real him.

[It's a freedom unlike any other.]

{I've enjoyed lots of different freedom New Guy. It can't be that good. }

[I don't think I could explain it to you unless you lived like a human did only a little bit ago. We were told we had freedom, we didn't.]

{I hope your old leaders survived, only a matter of time until a juicy contract pops up for them}

[I don't want revenge. I just don't want to go back.]

Casper hadn't even laid eyes on the metal capsule before the lid audibly pinged off this time. His mech grabbed the lip of the crater as his legs and boosters threw him up and over the lip. It was the same movement as jumping over a fence, only his entire body knew where it was and where the ground was. He'd never catch his foot on the ground, he'd never worry about being tired. He was truly in control now.

Similar to the Autocannon there was equipment hanging in the air, ready for Casper's rig to get into position. He did so without hesitation, he trusted himself.

{Fastest method of taking out a threat is to ensure its destroyed. Let me get clear before you turn all that on.} Came a message from Qik before he felt her rig retreat rapidly over several hills.

Casper's rig stepped into the frame and a hilt was presented to his hand, which grasped and locked it into place. On his opposite arm, a round disc was bolted into place, the lug nuts twisted and locked in within seconds. Casper turned and swept the hilt in an arc in front of him, just as the fusion engine buried within burped to life.

[You got me a sword!?] He demanded, moving through several motions, finding them natural and fluid despite never having held a sword, real or fake, before.

{It's technically a blowtorch, but if you want to designate it a sword, go for it New Guy.}

Again, Casper's rig's optics clicked in glee as he swung the sword in greater arcs with faster and faster strokes until he was spinning and hopping from one leg to the other. He was graceful and deadly in equal measures. The young man felt as if he could take on any master swordsman if they had the ill fortune to cross him.

{Enjoying yourself? Good to see you so loose and limber. It'll be useful for this next bit.} Came Qik's next message, but she was beyond his range of perception, even if he tried to extend his sight, his feelings; wherever she was, if she was still in the dunes, she was low and still. Hidden from him.

He was turning his head from left to right, searching the horizon for a clue to where she might be, when the first shot pinged off his left shoulder.  Sparks flew and something squealed off into the distance. Casper rolled forward with the force of the below, bending over and getting cover within the crater.

More rounds from the west began to fly overhead, chewing up the crater's edge. He could see and hear the bright flashes of the live rounds whizzing mere inches, or what felt like inches, from his head.

{New Objective: get back to the hangers without being disabled. Good luck New Guy.} Was the final message Casper received from Qik. Emotions never came across in the text format, but this felt cold, or maybe she was amused? Either way, Casper knew the lopel pilot was serious. Casper shuffled on his hands and knees, the ignited blade dying at his whim. He made his way around the crater away from the barrage of bullets that threatened to take the head off anything that appeared.

In the brief moment that Casper's reconnaissance unit popped up, time seemed to slow. His optics clicked and he immediately saw the tower that had sprung up from the ground, from between two of the formerly unimportant hills. Atop it was a turret that was firing a stream of bullets his way. In this slowed state, he could see the barrels twist and adjust to his new position, so he ducked again and shuffled to the bottom of the crater.

Moments later, the space his head had occupied exploded in a shower of dirt and sod. But Casper didn't care.

He might have cared if he was weak.

If he feared for his flesh.

But he didn't.

He was inside a machine that made him fast, strong and dangerous. He might have worn a frown, or even a grimace, but the rig couldn't recreate those movements. As he prepared to leave the crater, his optics clicked instead.

From the crater, Casper's rig exploded out of it with a burst of speed that belied the size of the machine. His legs unfolded and braced him for impact as the rig landed, scraping down the side of one of the hills, sending dirt and grass flying. There was no delay, the main thruster that sat in the very centre of Casper's back roared to life and catapulted him forwards!

If he were a mere human, he may have feared the speed at which he rocketed forwards towards the turret, he may have even feared the barrels as they tracked him, spinning up, ready to vomit another stream at him.

But not whilst he was within his mech, not while he was who he was meant to be.

He.

Was.

Invincible.

The tower grew and grew as his rig approached at Mach speed, all he had to do to reach it was kick the ground only a few moments before he hit the base directly. His trajectory changed in an instant and the rig soared into the sky majestically. The barrels flashed and burped another stream, but the sword was only part of the weapons package he had picked up, the shield bolted to his other arm was raised high, tilted to deflect, rather than absorb the rounds that screeched and wailed as they ricocheted off the solid shield.

The sword came to life once more, flame and fire that burned in the thousands of degrees flowed from the hilt, directly into the metal of the turret, cutting through the armour with ease and destroying both the precious wiring and the volatile ammunition within. Like a knife through butter. As gravity reasserted itself, Casper bent his knees and the booster pack closed all the vents on his back, opened the vents to his front and fired, softening his landing in a cloud of dirt just as the tower and the turret exploded in a shower of sparks and fire.

[Hah! Take that!] He sent on a broad wave, standing in his moment of true victory, one fist raised, holding the sword aloft.

The RL238 AAFPPT (Anti-Armour, Falling Petal, Pass Through) round pummelling straight through the left hand vents on the front of Casper's rig without losing even a fraction of its energy. The spinning munition tore through internal components without a single care, easily completing its mission of punching right back out the otherside of the machine. The round continued its journey for just short of a mile before being oblitorated as buried itself into the dirt. 

The barrel of the 120mm rifle that had fired the round was still glowing at this moment. Vapour steamed gently away, unfussed by any breeze despite the violence of noise and light that flashed by only moments ago. 

Qik winced in her rig as she observed the perfect hole straight through the chest of Casper’s rig. It was a hard lesson, but one every pilot needed to have.To be disabled.

What did it mean to a pilot with no drift though?

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #lopeljack #rabbit

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 6

There were *always* reminders that Casper was not amongst humans. 

If a human child annoyed a parent, did something mildly wrong or endangered themselves, it was common for their offending hand to receive a slight swat. It was never meant to be enough to hurt the child or even sting. It was meant to be a sudden negative sensation that caught the child's attention and instilled an understanding not to do something. 

However, when Casper reached up, wormed his fingers underneath his hairline to scratch at the itch that was burning his scalp, the geckin hairdresser merely poked the human's offending hand with her short, but still sharp claw as she would a geckin child. It felt like being pricked with a needle and had the young man whip his hand away as an instinct. 

"Stop touching it." She ordered. 

To be fair to her, she had spent ample time already ensuring that the wig was correctly set and Casper, worrying it, was threatening to undo her efforts. 

"It's itchy." Casper complained, looking down at his fingers where a jewel of bright red blood had appeared on the side of his finger. Human flesh was not as protective as geckin scales. Already, he had picked up a myriad of small scratches, scabs and even scars; just from interacting with the other aliens amongst the stars and their sharp claws. He put the finger to his lips and ensured that the bright red liquid wouldn't stain anything. 

"It's not itchy, now hold still." The black geckin ordered again, focused on her work as she applied make up to the young man's face. He watched in the mirror as the darkened patches around his eyes were brought back to a lighter shade, something resembling what he looked like when the human had first arrived.

"Why is it blonde? I had brown hair..." Casper asked, frowning at the mirror and the lightning yellow hair that topped his scalp.

"Just be glad there was even a wig of this type on the planet, we didn't have options *human*." Snapped the artist. She glanced back to the mirror, then back to his face, squinting. Appraising him.

A picture of his face as it was, was attached to the mirror that the stylist referred to often. It was supplied by the planet's administration so the geckin knew what she was aiming for with the wig and makeup. Casper merely sat in silence as his pale skin was returned to a healthier pinker shade. He'd changed a lot.

He had mildly expected her to overdo it, or make him look silly, but since it was the government demanding a stylist, apparently, she was very skilled at her craft, and it was evident in her work. Before long, Casper looked like a healthy human again. The young man remembered briefly, that this was what he was supposed to look like.

"Right! Is he ready?" Demanded a voice from the doorway, as it opened the same moment the voice spoke.

"As he can be..." The geckin mumbled, glancing from his face to his reflection. "He's so pale..."

"Ah he's fine! Fighting fit! Aren't you?" Demanded the voice.

Casper whispered a 'thanks' to the stylist who only shrugged and began packing her plethora of equipment away. The young man stood and found a government official in the doorway, stood atop a bipedal platform that was adorned with the government seal on the very front. The young man had no idea who this guy was, but the geckin was looking to him expectantly.

"Of course. Fit as a fiddle." Casper retorted, wiping his hands down the front of his outfit. It was of fine make, the materials felt expensive, but the fit was off. Made by alien hands who worked around the strange dimensions of the clothes they were making. It was obvious the tailer, albeit skilled, had biases. It was tight across the shoulders, a tailhole in the trousers had been hastily stitched up after being left in. It felt like the legs were overly tight on his thighs, but then drowned his calves in loose material.

Still, he wasn't expected to wear this getup for long. Long enough to fool someone. Just enough to get the GC off both his back and the geckin administration's. As Casper approached, the newcomer backed out of the room and began walking, gesturing for the far taller human to follow.

"Okay, so I know we've gone over this already, but one last time from the top." The diminutive alien demanded. Casper caught up and mentally went through the checklist. He all but physically ticked off his fingers as he spoke.

"The GC are checking up on me. Making sure I'm healthy and happy. I don't know this. I am to act 'mildly surprised' that they're calling. If they mention the fact the other humans are missing, I'm to be shocked and ask if they are okay. If they offer one of these new guardians or their program, I 'naturally' suggest assigning Qik, as she and I have become good friends and she's been looking after me." Casper summarised succinctly. "Happy, healthy, not using giant mechs."

"Excellent, don't forget to do that tooth thing. Lots of that tooth showing thing." The geckin continued, not looking back to Casper as they approached another door. Smiling, the geckins, nor the lopeljacks smiled. They weren't apes, teeth were a threat display to them, but they knew and understood that Casper smiling was a 'good' thing, at least his handlers did. The young man blinked, thinking back to when he had last smiled.

Three weeks ago? Qik had told him about a joke in the mess hall. He didn't go to the mess hall now.

The door they approached opened and the room beyond was revealed to contain a whole geckin media team, sat at various chairs, all with consoles that connected via wires to a lone console that sat in front of a backdrop and an empty chair, both sized for a human. The image of the backdrop was one of an ample living room with a 'lived in' feel. Tasteful mess spoke of a comfortable occupant. The layout looked somewhat like Casper's own living quarters, but his were still almost unused. Most nights he got home, fell into bed, then woke and left in the morning. The only 'used' part of his room was the bed and maybe the bathroom.

Blinking, he corrected; his kitchen counter had several empty nutrient slurry bowls, stacked several high.

Qik was sulking in an unused corner, her own personal thunder cloud keeping everyone away from her. The significant frown on her face broke briefly when she gave Casper as a smirk lifted her features before her face dropped again. It wasn't hard to guess why she was angry; she was dressed ridiculously, at least for her. He resisted the urge to itch under the stupid wig as he crossed the room.

In the few weeks that Casper had known Qik, she had never been one for wearing anything other than her Nerve-Suit, a leather jacket with merc patches stitched into the arms and back or a mechanic's jumpsuit to protect her brown fur from oil whilst she worked on her own rig. The bright white material that currently clung to her arms and legs, was out of the ordinary, not to mention that the fabric leotard that covered her body left little to the imagination. It gave her a very 'feminine' appearance, despite Qik being far from the stereotype. This was all covered, by strips of see-through silk that hung down off her body from around her neck, the material rippled in unseen air currents. It gave her a very clean, bright look, despite her face looking like she'd eaten a bee recently.

Casper joined her in the corner while the official went over to speak with one of the media team in hushed and hurried tones.

"You okay?" The young man asked the brooding figure.

"I hate wearing this shit." Qik snapped, glowering at the geckins who obviously had a hand in her current state. Casper glanced up at her and noticed a red dot had appeared around jewellery that had not been in her ears the day before. He touched his own ear and cleared his throat.

"You're bleeding. Haven't seen you with jewellery before." He said, adding his observation casually. She looked good.

"Course you haven't! I'm not taken." She snorted, pulling a tissue with red dots already on it and reached up to dab at her ear.

"Taken?" Casper asked, his brow furrowing. He knew so little of her, despite spending weeks under her tutelage.

"If you see a lopel with jewellery in the ear, it means they're not available. They.." she said, nodding to the geckins. "Say it makes me more appealing to the GC. Hurts like a bitch."

"Huh, you never had a piercing?" The human asked, mildly shocked this was new for her. She seemed so world travelled, he would have expected something like a piercing as a minimum.

"Obviously I have. If a contract needed me to sneak in somewhere, I'd use jewellery to pretend I'm one of the 'safe' ones. You know? Keep my ears up, act like I have a single braincell?" She explained, tilting her hand as if it was a normal conversation to talk about what amounted to espionage.

Casper couldn't resist grinning and adopted her stance, leaning against a wall, arms cross, one foot up for balance.

"You're going to need to explain all this before I join your merry band." Casper pointed out, the lopel to his left rolled her eyes and Qik sighed dramatically before speaking. Her tone was of a teacher, she wasn't being harsh with him, she was just on edge.

"Lopels with tall straight ears are non-combatants, they're the ones that have never had a hard day in their life. It's hard for someone like me, to re-straighten their ears once they droop. Without ear braces, I mean. Guards and security will look closer at lopels with dropped ears, like mine." Qik explained, briefly lifting one of her ears between two fingers. It appeared as if the ears had no cartilage in them and hung loose and low, completely floppy.

"Stress is the factor. It can be any kind of stress but get shot at enough times and your ears just fall one day. That's when most mercs switch from social covert contracts to overt contracts." She finished, waving a hand as if dismissing the subject. Casper had spent enough time with Qik now to have learnt he would only receive insults if he pressed the subject and merely filed the information away for later.

"Remember what we talked about." Qik whispered suddenly, straightening, and uncrossing her arms. Casper nearly asked her why she'd remind me now, when the geckin high commander walked in and room went still.

AS the same for all geckins of status, she too had a bipedal platform, but it made nary a whisper as it turned the corner into the room. How Qik had heard her, even with her oversized ears, was lost to Casper.

"Right. The call is due any minute. We ready?" The high commander demanded in a cold tone, looking over the room once before peering at the human and lopel together. She looked like any other geckin, only with black and purple stripes across her scales.

"We are." Qik replied, stepping away from Casper. She was distancing herself from him. He had to do this on his own. Casper mentally disconnected himself from his nerves, from his fear, just how Qik had shown him how to do it in combat.

"I need a quick word." The young man started with a firm tone, holding his stare with the commander. The black and purple geckin narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth. Not a smile by any stretch. The entire room went silent as all eyes were on him and everyone held their breath.

"I wish to talk about a contract." He explained curtly.

"Is now the-" The commander attempted to dodge, but the budding new pilot had been coached about how they would attempt to avoid dealing with him when he was holding all the cards.

"Now is perfect. I am striking when I have the most control. Any time after this and the geckin government has the upper hand. The GC are about to ask if I'm happy. I'll be happy if I have a duplicate of Qik's contract. Your next mission is mine as well as Qik's, afterwards I am free to leave or write up a new one." Casper summarised immediately, covering all his bases, and ensuring no time was lost. He had to get this deal *before* the wellness check, not during or after.

"This is-" The geckin commander attempted again, trying to manoeuvre away. With the lopel's guidance, the geckins were, as Qik had warned; predictable.

"Ma'am. This is not a bluff. You know I'm good, that's why you've let me train as I have, but I'm not *yours*. I never was, that was an error on your phycologist's part." The man repeated the lopel's words, whispered as they were whilst they had suited up for the mechs in the last few days.

"The lopel will betray you the second the price is right." The commander pointed out. Exactly as Qik had foreseen.

"Then I'll deal with it then and you can say 'told you so', but right now I need that contract." He pressed, tilting his head down a fraction. The geckin hissed again, but her eyes never left the human's. Casper may have blinked, if he was the same person he was when he had first arrived on the planet. But the young man that had arrived wasn't there anymore.

He felt his emotions were far away, sat inside a metal machine, just waiting for him to reattach. Any nervousness was lost to the grey fog that his mind had. The only reason he was so awake and aware was because of the stimulant Qik had slipped him weeks ago. He took a hit any day he wasn't planned to be inside his rig. He was at his weakest in this moment, yet could no show that to anyone in the room.

Seconds inched by before the geckin sneered and blinked, nodding to the human.

"Very well. You have my word. When this backfires, you might remember the geckin government was here at your beginning and allowed you to leave when asked. We could arrange recovery and a new contract. One you may find favourable." The small creature that could order his execution stated flatly.

"This was just business Ma'am. I know I had you over a barrel with this, but I'm not so dumb as to think you'd give me up that easily otherwise." Casper grinned a cold grin. One that 'showed teeth' but was devoid of warmth and happiness. It was a smile that the high commander understood and returned. Qik had said the geckin military would ultimately respect someone who can push their advantage in overwhelming odds. Any geckin understood that, especially after the ssypno hegemony had tried and failed to vassalize them as a species.

At least they hadn’t succeeded yet.

"You're going to be vicious." The high commander complimented, "With that aside, are you ready?" She asked curtly, all 'niceness' gone from her tone. Casper carefully let out a pent-up breath and mentally shook himself.

He was not a vicious person, not really...

But he did fine it...

Easier...

In recent times to be disconnected. Still, that could have all backfired and blown up in his face if they had called his bluff. Even if Casper had called out for help to the GC on the wellness check, it would still take time for their closest craft to come and get him. Ample time for problems to appear and accidents to happen.

Before he could respond to her though, one of the media team piped up.

"Calls coming in, it's marked for his attention."

The high commander tilted her head and appraised the human.

"Ready?"

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #geckin #lopeljack #rabbit

[wolven91]

Slight of Hand

Taurians are impressive to behold.

The males move like they float, never even so much as ruffling the silks they wore. Their ability to handle any situation, speak on a wide variety of topics, all the while being cool, calm and collected.

It *was* impressive.

The females were impressive by a whole different nature.

As tall as the tallest human, as strong as the strongest human. They were the very embodiment of 'macho'.

There was a ritual the females did that shocked any human who heard of it. Despite the females horns having the sensation of touch, those that wished to prove themselves, would dip their horns into a variety of molten metals.

Some would go gold for the looks, some would go silver or even steel. The hues might be varied, but it was the resistance to the pain that impressed any taurian who saw them.

A taurian with coated horns, was not one to trifle with.

Not all taurians could brag that however. That was only a small fraction of the population that chose to follow through, but all female taurians were impressed and fantasised what it would be like to survive the torture and walk away a true 'alpha'.

Marues was not one that ever believed she could get her horns dipped. Her pain threshold was very low and did not consider dipping even close to what she would want.

An ear piercing, however, was.

"Aw it's going to *hurt*!" She moaned, pacing back and forth.

The human merely held the piercing gun in one hand while she observed the, rather large, stud in between two fingers.

"Only for a moment Maru, now come on. Sit down."

It was weird to see a taurian nervous. They were huge creatures, still small compared to an ursidain, but when the shortest female taurian was as big as Shaquille O'Neil? It was a odd concept to think they'd panic at the idea of an ear piercing.

"But it'll hurt!" Exclaimed Marues, holding her hands over her large ears.

"For a second, come on, sit down so we can look. I won't do it, I want to see how it works and where you want it."

The taurian complied, but made a point of saying 'only to look'.

The human touched various points on the taurian's ear before one section along the bottom was chosen. It was the thinnest section possible, but the stud would look good.

At least Marues had taste.

"Alright, I'm going to count down." Explained the human as she punched a hole through the taurian's ear, clamping the stud into place without hesitation.

The taurian closed her eyes and braced as the human stood up and went to wipe the puncher down, cleaning the needle.

"Like 3, 2, 1, go or or or 3, 2, go?" Asked the taurian, peeking one eye to watch the human clean the gun.

"Mm, I usually countdown from 10. Really get the nerves going." Grinned the human, placing the gun down and retrieving a mirror.

"What?! You're so mean! Don't do that!" Demanded Marues. She'd come to the human because *normally* they were kind! At least Marues knew the human wouldn't tell anyone how much of a weakling Marues was being about this.

"Alright, alright. How about... I fit it when you're not paying attention?"

The taurian leveled a glare at the human, who was holding the hand held mirror out to the larger alien.

"Har har. Can we get on with it? I'm freaking out!"

"Just check that I've got the spot right in the mirror."

The taurian looked at the mirror, then back to the human.

"Yeah, that's right. Let's do it!"

"Cool. Tadaa. Done."

The taurian frowned, before looking down.

Looking back up.

Looking down and turning her head to see her ear more clearly.

She even gingerly touched it, wincing a fraction.

Marues looked up, blinking, her muzzle-like mouth working but no words coming out. The human merely grinned and gave a wink before walking to the kitchen to get a drink.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #taurian #cow

[wolven91]

Drifting- Part 5

There was an eon where Casper merely floated in the infinite dark.

The last thing he remembered before the dark was the concrete road, rushing up to greet him. He couldn't even put his hands up to stop himself as he had grabbed the other person's head with both hands, intending on either tearing it off or slam dunking it into the floor. He recalled, just as it all went blank, that he knew something bad had happened to his head and his neck in the same instance. Even now, a quick check of himself and he knew there were several problems, instinctually, like a perfect itemised list that remained constant in his mind's eye until he dismissed it. It was mainly his head, but he knew he was hurt in the stomach too.

With the destruction of his head, or at least he assumed his head was destroyed, saying he couldn't see, hear, smell or taste anything, nor could he feel anything when he reached up to touch where it should have been; he'd lost all sense of the outside world in an instant. Even if he thrashed or yelled or raged at the dark; nothing changed. His fingers felt nothing, he wasn't laying on anything. The young man couldn't even feel the sun on his skin. He was headless, in the perfect dark.

It was him and the void, all around him. He lay there and, with nothing else to do; Casper began to think.

[Am I dead?]

How does one know when they die? No one had come back to give instructions. Was this what happened? Casper thought back to Earth of all things. The planet which he'd had to flee. Where he'd left his family and many of his friends behind. He'd been on a night out, celebrating his birthday when it happened. Only one of his friends had been grabbed at the same time as him, the rest of his friends had avoided the grasping hands of the ursidains, running and jeering, throwing whatever was at hand.

Casper still didn't know if they had made it off before the end.

From the government records, he was apparently the only member of his family who made it.

Were they stuck in a void like this too?

No wonder ghosts were angry, lashing out he thought. Casper was already getting agitated, and he'd been alone in the void for... How long had he been here? Seconds? Hours? Days? How could he know? He couldn't even feel so much as his...

Then something changed.

The void didn't change, it was still dark and completely devoid of sensation, both physical and otherwise. But Casper could *sense* that he was exposed. Like the back of his neck had been flayed open, leaving his vulnerable spine exposed to danger.

Then there was a noise. A clank of a tool hitting metal beyond a door or wall. Then clattering, of claws on metal, clinking and skittering. More clanking, of something close by, mere inches away.

Then Casper was born for the second time.

Bright light blinded the man. It was so bright, cold, and harsh that he tried to cry out and shield himself with his hands, but the rebreather mask that covered his nose and mouth prevented him from forming sentences. His arms, although now freed from being crossed over his chest, refused to move with purpose; he feebly raised them, only to be shocked by the exhaustion and they collapsed onto him the moment he stopped to recuperate.

Several moving shadows blocked the light, but only for brief moments. The young man kept his eyes screwed up tight, squinting up at the creatures, he tried to prevent them from reach out to him, but all he did was ineffectually paw at them. The air was cold against his skin, and he felt sickly, as if starved and weak. Like he'd not eaten in days. He couldn't help but shiver. All the while this was happening, there was a deafening calamity that lanced pain through the man's mind, giving him a headache that crippled his thoughts. People shouting, tools slamming against metal. It was too much! Too loud!

Something cold and hard, like steel, wrapped around him and lifted him from the womb which had housed him in comfort and warmth. He cried out, but the metal claw that had grasped him between four unrelenting fingers was emotionless as it pulled him free and lowered him onto something yielding and soft.

"Get him to medical. Full check-up."

That was Wren's voice, the young man was certain of it. Her name was clear in his head, but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes, it was still so bright he could only see the bright red of the inside of his eyelids. He didn't dare open them.

"*Where is it!? Who was the pilot?!*" Came a harsh voice that bellowed and echoed around the apparently enclosed building. Casper felt movement, but there was no wind against him, no sunlight on his skin. He wasn't outside. He raised a hand and placed it over his stomach, but it merely slid off, frictionless. He felt pressure, but the sensation was muted. His fingers couldn't feel his skin, and his skin could feel his fingers.

The harsh voice continued to argue with something or someone but dropped in volume as Casper was apparently moved away, into another room and now that the maelstrom of noise and activity was gone? Fell asleep.

== 0 ==

The next thing Casper was aware of was discomfort. He coughed and winced, there was something stuck in his throat, irritating it. As he reached up however, he found his hand was connected to something, stopping his movements.

Finally opening his eyes, a clean white room with minimal features came into focus. Inserted into the back of his hand was a canular. His wrist was bound to the bed with a cushioned cuff. Turning his head the tubing that connected to the back of his hand, was connected to a drip of some kind, but the bag had alien runes and text on it. It made no sense to him. Next thing he noticed was with the turn of his head, something pulled tight across his face and into his nose. He winced.

With two fingers, he reached up, confused, only to jump when a rumbling voice broke the silence.

"Don't touch that. That's how they're getting food in you."

Glancing round, there was a partially pulled curtain, blocking the source of the voice.

"Who's there? What happened?" He asked, voice rough, but no longer as weak or unintelligible as when he was first torn from the oblivion.

"You completed your first dive. Piloted a mech." Congratulated the voice. It was deep and rich, Casper's translators, of the sub-dermal variety, gave the voice a female inflection.

"That put me in hospital?"

A single chuckle.

"No. But you had no drift, so your brain forgot about your body. Took you a bit to remember. I bet it'll be easier next time." The voice continued with a hint of respect, maybe even admiration.

"Who are you?" Casper asked, trying to manipulate his face to set the tubes comfortably and failing. From behind the curtain, a new alien strutted out.

She was tall, with a serious face. The head was covered in short brown fur which covered a sloped face that met at a pointed nose. Atop her head, was dominated by a pair of long ears that hung down the back of her head and rested against the front of her shoulders. The sclera of her eyes were jet black instead of white, with the black of her pupil, it made her iris intense and dangerous looking.

She wore a rough jacket around her torso, which was left open. Beneath was a nerve suit, similar to the one Casper had worn, complete with open jacks for the needles that would stab into and connect a pilot. This skintight material covered her from her neck, down her body, past her hips and only ended above her ankles. Whilst the rest of her was petit, for such a tall creature, it was her hips there were larger than normal.

Then again, as Casper laid there watching her, with the interloper suffering his study of her in silence, it didn't surprise the human that she had legs for days. If he squinted, the alien looked the spitting image, of a bipedal hare.

"I'm a lopel." She explained, in a bored tone, pushing off from the wall that she'd leant on and again, began to slowly walk around Casper's bed. His head tracked her carefully. "And you're a human." She accused, glancing at him with the golden eyes again. There was something about the way she stared at him, it wasn't a causal gaze or even her studying him as Zeet had done last week. It felt like a threat.

"What do you want? Why are you in my room?" Casper asked, mildly concerned that this thing that was watching him carefully. The way she tiptoed around his bed put him on edge, the saunter was not idle. Was the medical staff nearby?

"I want to kill you." She said plainly.

Casper immediately looked for an alert or a nurse call button but found none. She continued regardless.

"You got lucky yesterday. You ruined my rig and I want my rematch." She explained, coming to a halt next to his drip bag, looming over him whilst keeping her chin up. He could only just see her golden eyes, staring down at him as he were nothing more than filth on the bottom of her shoe... if she wore shoes.

"I'm sor-ACK!" Casper tried to apologise, but the alien grabbed his throat and squeezed. 

"Shut it! Do you know what kind of damage you've done to my-" She stopped herself, on the very edge of shouting, glanced at her hand, then let go of the young man who shrank back into the bed, staring up at her. The pain ebbed, but he was still shocked as she seemingly took a breath through her nose, closed her eyes, and took a step away, down the edge of the bed.

"You've tarnished my reputation, or at least, if anyone hears about this." She began again, with a deadly calm voice.

"I can just say I lost?" The man offered, looking for an out.

"Mm, cute. Like there wasn't a hundred eyes on us. No. I'm stuck in this contract and afterwards I'm never going to get another job again because some idiot decides they're going to bellyflop on top of me. Who the hell even taught you that?" She demanded, frowning, and shaking her face, turning to him as if it was such an incredulous idea to jump on top of someone's back. Her ears cascaded with the move of her head, like two giant ponytails.

Casper recalled that he would have landed on her back if she had stopped her 'rig' or even carried on the way she was going. The young man hadn't expected her to spin on the spot and had overshot, tearing off her 'head' and unable to protect his own.

"John Cena and it was more of a draw-" He replied, truthfully, but she wasn't listening.

"I'll add him to the list as well." She replied in a dark tone. "Next question, how did you get that mech to do that? It's the most broken and glitchy of the rigs here, literally because it's the 'pilot's first rig' mech. It's a miracle it still works!"

"I just... plugged in?" He paused before adding. "I'm not lying." This seemed to amuse her as her head flew back as she barked with laughter.

"'New Guy', you couldn't lie convincingly if your life depended on it." She pointed out, her smile, which softened her features in a lovely way; dropped in an instant. Her serious demeanour returning instantly. The room fell into silence as she pinched her chin, staring at him again. He felt a heat prickle in the space between his eyes, unable to hold her intense gaze.

"Can you blink-"

"What's your drift?" She interrupted, seemingly finding something of interest.

"Eh... A fraction of a percent? Why?"

She didn't respond, only glared at him while her hand stopped moving, still touching her face.

"I'm not-" Casper started, trying to defend himself.

"Shut up. I know you're not." She stopped him, but it wasn't her words that made the impact to the young man, but her tone. She believed him. That was evident even to him, and the 'gun barrel' stare she had been giving Casper was gone. It was a night and day change and she had barely moved an inch.

Knowledge of his 'low drift' changed the landscape for her. He'd missed something... Something important. He breathed in shakily, letting her have a moment to stop him from talking, but she remained pensive.

"How... rare is a low drift?" He asked carefully.

"Very." She stated flatly. Her golden irises flicking up, then back down as her fingers began to scratch at her chin again. She seemed to come to a conclusion and folded her arms under her chest, before tilting her head back as if unbelieving of Casper's answer even before she had asked her next question.

"So, you just... don't know about full submersion controllers?" She asked accusatively. "FSBs?"

"My planet got destroyed about... a month ago? A day before that; the most we knew about aliens was what we made up." Casper retorted, a flare of annoyance igniting in his chest. "No! I don't know *anything*!" Casper snapped back, annoyed that she wasn't getting that everything that had happened was a fluke and angry that he had to bring up such a topic just to defend himself from a mentally unstable easter bunny knock off!

It was enough though. Either his passion or his words, her next sentence was calm and low. She spoke clearly and slowly, enough for him to conceptualise what she explained.

"Fine. Just listen and maybe I can fill you in on some details our 'generous hosts' have left out for you." She offered, briefly raising her hands to air quote her words. For the next forty minutes, Qik the lopel as she would introduce herself, explained about 'full submersion controllers' or 'FSCs' and their use in the wider galaxy.

Casper learnt that mechs were not the only machine that could be controlled by thought alone. Realistically, any device could be connected to a nervous system and handled in a similar matter. Granted the more complicated a system, the more strain it put on the mind. Ultimately, the more complicated the device, the greater the drift commands will suffer. Mechs or 'rigs', were second only to full stations or battleships for complexity.

The more complicated the system, the greater the drift. The higher the drift, the more commands to the machine were lost, changed, or corrupted. Too much drift and the pilot would be lost, the machine almost becoming an animal in of itself. Taking actions without order, the pilot unable to control what now controlled them.

Ursidains had the worst drift rating of all the races. But that didn't mean they couldn't use these FSCs for their equipment, only that they were limited to 'simple' caterpillar tracked vehicles and merely targeting and firing systems for the largest equipment. The most advanced and highest trained pilots of the ursidain people could just about manage the firing mechanism of a shipbound railgun. They would leave the targeting and other systems to other parts of the crew and would merely manage the weapon's heat management and ammo selection. That was enough to give those crews an edge, but the user of the FSC would become a sickly creature; losing weight and needing to be shaved just so they could have their bodies connected to the system.

It was a well-respected, but short career with a well-paid retirement and medical coverage afterwards, Qik explained. She moved onto the other races and gave examples for them too.

Ssypnos were accomplished fighter pilots, however their mass made them quite vulnerable to gravity flight and rendered them at a disadvantage almost universally when they had to take their own weight into account. Since the smaller the ssypno meant the better the pilot, Qik spared no details when she explained it was the orphans who were selected and pressed into military service on behalf of nobles that made up the vast majority of their pilots and military. They were kept cold and hungry, ensuring they remained small and effective.

Taurian females were awful for their drift, whereas their male counterparts were much better. Their natural distain for violence however, rendered them useless.

"What about your kind? I hadn't even heard of 'lopels'." The young man asked, sat up and grimacing as he felt cold nutrient paste slowly crawl up the tube before disappearing up his nose. He felt the temperature as the gross, grey looking mixture made its way down the tube that emptied out in his stomach. He winced as his stomach protested.

"Mm, no one likes to talk about the lopel in the room. We're mercenaries."

"A whole race of mercenaries? Not a single librarian or doctor?"

"You either pay for your medical or go join the GC. Nobody wants their details in the system. Money means you can travel and eat in their zone, but we wouldn't give up or anonymity."

"So why doesn't anyone talk about you guys?"

"Because we're their dirty little secret. If two of the powers get into a fight, it's public record. If a mercenary guild are brought in to win a fight, that's a private matter."

"You're privateers?"

The brown alien shrugged and scratched blunt claws against her cheek.

"Call me what you like. I'm rich, free and happy."

"So how come you're here? Besides planning on killing me."

"Geckins were about to fight the ssypno. I've already done five sorties, and the sixth one was literally due the next day. I signed, then something happened, and everyone sent all their ships to some backend of nowhere system, calling a pause to the fighting. I'm contracted for a fight, that never happened. I signed because the same thing had happened five times before over the previous five days, how could I know the war was put on pause because of a fancy new species popped up." She grumbled, frowning, and sneering at her misfortune.

"Was the new system called 'Sol'?"

The reaction was a stiffening of the body, and her golden irises flicking up and fixing him with a stare.

"Yeah, sounds about right.

"That was us. Humans. Sorry for the delay." Casper said sarcastically, blinking and laying his head back, mood darkening. From the corner of his eye, he watched the lopel tilt her head, her ears falling to the side before she pushed up off the wall and strutted over to him. In their time together, she'd yet to stay still for more than a few moments. Even so far as to peek beyond the door every so often.

"What are you guys called again?"

"Human as a single. Humans as a plural. Humanity as a species."

"You guys use FSCs where you're from?"

"A guy successfully played a computer game with a subdermal link. That count?"

"Rudimentary, but yes."

"If you're not a fluke, and 'humanity'," she said with finger quotes. "are this low on their drift scales on average? They're going to be useful to every single species out in the stars." Qik promised, turning to sit on the bed. She gave one chuckle that spasmed her body before looking over her shoulder to admit to Casper.

"Even my own company would hire someone with *that* low a drift. Even *with* zero combat experience." She turned away and leant back on her hands, considering something beyond Casper or the room they lay in.

"Okay, so what does low drift do then?" The man asked, feeling more human as time went on. "With no drift or thereabouts?"

"No drift? That rig you were in? When you're plugged in; that's your body now. It can do what you can do. No limitations, no need for stabilisers or wasting CPU on balancing things." She turned her whole body now, lifting a leg onto the bed to face him completely.

"You put in a combat role software package into a rig and stick you in? You're going to be able to identify a weak point, select a suite of methods for capitalising on it and be ready to execute those options in the blink of an eye." Casper blinked as she snapped her fingers.

"Your rig no longer needs to think about itself, your brain will do that for you. Instead, it... and you... can focus on the target." She finished, grinning wickedly, obvious excited at the concept.

"I've never been in a fight before." Casper pointed out. He had zero training and realistically no education from back home either.

"Liar." She shot back flatly, before turning away, leaning back, and gesturing with her hand.

"You fought me. Honestly I didn't bring my Grade One game, I underestimated you and didn't have my sensor suites on." She paused and growled before grinning; her front teeth were larger than the rest of her teeth.

"Make no mistake I'd wipe the floor with you the second time round. So would anyone else... So let me train you."

There was a moment's pause as Casper waited for the second half of the joke, but all the happened was a slow stare from the lopel from over her shoulder. The grin and cool gaze remained as she waited for his answer.

"What? That's stupid! I'm not a fighter! Much less a mercenary!"

"Oh what, you got a promising career elsewhere? You're stuck in the system right now, whether that's geckin or the damn GC. Draw up a contract like mine. A single combat outing, success means you're free to draw up another one, you'll own the rig *and* you'll have enough credits to whore yourself stupid to wherever the next fight is..."

Casper paused, frowning, staring at his hands. He turned over his left one, saying his right still had a needle and tube attached that he didn't want to jostle. The back of his hand had a trio of tiny holes that had scabbed over. It was bright red at the moment, but the rings around each of the dots was already discolouring. He was going to bruise. A quick check and he found similar dots all up his arms.

"I thought you said you were stuck?"

"Until the fight starts up, I take a few pot shots, blow up a bunker or break a refinery and that's the contract complete. I'm not here to wage a war, or even fight a battle. I'm a solution to a problem the geckins have. The second this fight picks back up; I'm done and gone. I can train you between now and then. We get you on a contract, do the first one cheap so they send you with me and bam! Freedom."

"Freedom?"

"Oh yes. You join my guild, my company; and we can get you all set up with your own mech, you then work off that debt. Plus it means my defeat just looks like a failed lesson with the 'New Guy'."

"This is mental."

"I'm not hearing no. I think you'd suit something mobile. Definitely having a big engine, maybe so it can power boosters?"

Him? A merc?

The idea scared him. But it did mean he would need to get back into the rig. Something about that idea stuck. Piloting the mech, just walking around; had been great. It was like a high just for existing. But what if...

"I don't want to die."

"You're not going to. Pilots are rare New Guy, no one in their right mind would kill a pilot. Mechs fire the control pod out the back during critical failure anyway so even if you took a bad hit; your survival is more important that the machine. Friendlies grab you and scoot you back to base."

He wanted to say no. To deny her such a stupid idea. He was a kid! Barely old enough to drink! How the hell was he being told to become a solider? There was silence for a few beats.

"I heard Zeet was already building you a new rig... Looks *fancy*." She drawled.

Casper's eyes glanced up at her, she was still sat there, calm, and relaxed; but grinning from ear to ear as she gazed at him with her intense eyes. She *knew* he *wanted* to get back in.

"What would the first lesson be?" He asked, biting the wiggling bait on the end of her hook.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #geckin #lizard #lopeljack #rabbit

[wolven91]

Furry anon here again!

Yes, one can be a furry without a fursona. The only real criteria is if you like anthropomorphic animals lol. But the only *actual* one is self-identification, so that still works!

Anyway, have a good day!! May the Alien Fuckery be with you ✨

#non story

[wolven91]

Hi!

1. How are you doing today? I hope inspiration and energy aren't too hard to get for you today :3

2. On a scale of 1-10, how much of a furry are you?

Love your stories, keep it up! :333

Hello!

I'm doing alright, thanks! Everything is fine, no major issues so I'm making a point these days to be grateful for that.

How much of a furry am I?

Short answer:

I'm not. Maybe like a 2 or 3? I don't have an issue with furrys, so far the worst thing I've experienced even connected to them was someone trashing on them and being a general prick.

Long answer:

I mean, not much? But it ultimately depends on your definition.

I don't identify as a furry, I don't have a fursona and never really felt the need to make one or have one. Based on what I know, that feels like the deciding factor since I've yet to meet a furry 'human'.

That said, I write very much about anthromorphic animals and having relations with them, so the question becomes, if you dont identify as a furry, does what you write make you more of a furry?

Then of course you got the question of context and what actions make you furry.

Were I not happily married, would I have sex with an alien? Sure! Kick ass. Certified William Ryker over here, where's my alien fucker card? That doesn't make me furry as far as I'm aware.

What if the aliens were live action furrys but from space?

As long as they pass the harkness test, I'm up for getting down.

Does me willing to be friends with, seduce and fuck a furry make me furry?

The philosophical questions of our age.

I reread this and realised this makes me sound mental, but rather than delete and sanitise my ramblings, I'm throwing it into the Tumblr vortex and seeing what happens.

#non story

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 4

Casper felt *strong*.

He felt like until now, there had been a fear in the back of his mind. A fear that one day his body would fail him.

But as he reached for the metal shutter door, several meters wide and taller than him, his muscles pulled without hesitation. There was no pain, no pressure as his arms engaged and tore the metal upwards with the ease of lifting a single petal that had fallen from a delicate flower.

Once the shutter was mostly up, it stopped and dented, jammed at an angle, Casper considered it for a moment and mentally shrugged, his arms not being able to make that gesture at the moment.

Ducking under and through the shutter door, the man looked out across a great landscape. Turning to peer left and right, the building he had been in was a featureless concrete slab that showed signs of scorch marks and lumps of the solid material broken and pitted as if shot with a gun.

There were no windows or doors all along the space with the exception of the series of hanger bay doors. But Casper had no interest in those, he was staring at the odd shapes and objects in the distance partially hidden by huge rolling hills and dunes.

Who could stop him now from taking a quick look? He felt *free*. What would have caused him pause before was no longer a concern.

The moment he stepped from the safety of the shutter door, he felt his foot sink into the earth, unsteadying him, making him look down. Casper watched as great mounds of dirt built up around his metal foot, as if he was far heavier than normal. He *was* heavier. Why was he..?

It came rushing back. He was piloting a mech. It was an odd sensation to remember such an important and obvious concept. How could he forget such a thing?

The man straightened and took a breath.

Breathing in the alien world's clean air it satisfied him. It was cool and rich with untainted oxygen. He could taste that there were very few particulates to damage him. He knew information this on a factual level.

The young man breathed in again; he could feel his lungs fill and his heart sing for it. He touched a hand to his chest over his heart, only for a 'clang' to draw his head down.

A metal hand, against a metal chest.

If he could frown, he would have. He settled for his optics to click shut, clean themselves, then click open again.

Why was it so hard to remember who he was inside the machine?

"Casper! You having fun there?" Demanded Zeet inside Casper's head.

[I think I broke the door. Sorry about that.]

A moment's pause.

"Ha! Break all the doors you like, it appears like you're already, ready to go for a stroll?" He sounded completely unfazed by the human's destruction; almost giddy even.

[The air out here is... I don't know how to describe it. Cleaner?]

"Your generator needs oxygen to burn, the one in your chest is only a basic model. Barely enough power to run your current rig, although I have tinkered with it, so it should suffice for what we have planned." Came a smug response from Zeet.

"I suspect the air out there is a better quality than the hanger, what with the enclosed space and multiple generators running." The head engineer explained, again, unbothered by the idea of generators running without significant air flow in an enclosed space.

[I think you're right.]

Casper took another step, for the second time finding his footing unstable. Zeet seemed to anticipate Casper's next question.

"We deliberately use loose dirt in the starting area, the idea is to force new pilots to learn how to adjust and fall without fear of being at the top of a hill or a distance away from rescue."

[I think I'm alright.]

As Casper took more steps, they became more confident. He stopped looking down and looked up, to the horizon where the strange square shapes peeked over the hills.

[What's that?] The human asked, while the mech briefly lifted one of its arms and pointed at the structures before dropping it back down to its side. Why did it move so organically?

"An assault course of sorts, although this would be far into your future as a pilot before you'd go over there. That said, I feel that it would be rather pointless to have you make such progress without letting you find your limits. Why not head over and see what you do?" Suggested the voice.

"This is ill advised. We haven't got nearly enough sensors or monitors to keep track of the relevant information." Came Wren's voice, quiet until now.

"You're telling me you don't have his readouts?"

"Not nearly as many as I'd like or choose! This was meant to be a proof of concept! Not a full-scale exercise!"

"Then you will take a page out of our books and plan for any eventuality in future. Casper! Onwards!" Zeet demanded, dismissing the doctor's comments with an almost audible flick of his hand.

Casper urged himself out into the open fields and over the green grass covered dunes. He wandered over to the distant objects without issue, merely walking up then down the rough terrain without delay. By the time he began to near the objects, the human inside the towering machine had long forgotten that he existed once more. Once he arrived at the strange shapes, the young man discovered that he found that they made up a replica of a large town, or centre of a city.

As he walking amongst the buildings, choosing the centre of a street, he noted there were no vehicles, the shop fronts weren't hollow and the buildings themselves; solid blocks without features. It was strange to be reminded of what the world was supposed to somewhat look like now, as he strolled down the main road of the faux town.

[I thought you said this was an assault course?] Casper sent back to the hanger, not seeing the drones overhead, watching his every move. He gingerly laid a hand on the top of what could have been a low corner shop as he reached a intersection of four roads.

"Well we can certainly put you through your paces if you like?" Came a flat tone. Gone was the confidence or giddy vibe to his words. Casper's optics clicked as he felt a strange sensation of danger creep over him. He looked down at one of his hands and made a fist before relaxing. Unlike his own hands, that had a constant tremble since the loss of Earth, these metal hands were perfectly still. Casper never noticed this however.

Casper had done assault courses on Earth. 'Team building' exercises. He wasn't brawny or even particularly fast. He was clever, but powerful wasn't a word he'd use in any self description.

Until today...

He *felt* powerful. He could trust his legs, trust his arms.

To the camera drones overhead, the basic mech, one that was designed to take punishment, but not excel at much else, tilted its reconnaissance unit that sat atop its shoulders as if to crack it's neck. If it were organic, of course.

[Go for it.]

"Understood." Came the immediate reply before Casper got the profound feeling that his next words were not address to the human. "Qik? You're up."

[Qik?]

"Defend yourself Casper." Came a dispassionate response.

[Wait, what? I thought this was an assault course?]

"Defeat the aggressor. No further communication will be acknowledged or sent." Zeet stated, before the human felt whatever connection that was within Casper's head, closedoff.

'Defend' himself? 'Defeat the aggressor'?!

Was he expected to fight? Casper couldn't fight! He'd never been in anymore more than a scuffle when he was twelve! He stepped away from the corner building and into the centre of the intersection, looking around himself for a threat. There were alleys and smaller roads he could duck down to break line of sight, but he need to know *where* the 'aggressor' was coming from!

Casper blinked, and in his panic, his need to find the threat, he felt his mind suddenly expand past what he could see.

It was as if a new sense had just opened up to him. Like he'd lived his life with his eyes closed and was blind, only to discover now; that he could see. This new sensation was not sight, but Casper could *feel* movement of something large and fast approaching him from the hangers to the south, where he had been only a few minutes before.

Whatever it was, it was big and fast. He could sense it was as big as he was. Nothing like the tiny dots that floated harmlessly above.

Aware of the direction of the threat, Casper ducked, dropping his head low and ensuring he himself couldn't be seen over the tops of any of the lower buildings. Quickly shuffling, the man got off the street and ducked down a side road, scooting further down, almost leaning against the building with his back. He paid no attention to the scrapes and loose concrete dust the metal of his back scratched off the structures.

{What idiot did that moron trick into this game this time?}

It was a genderless statement, devoid of emotion. It wasn't talking, like Zeet over the radio. It was text, and an image of a command line and the words filled in at the front of Casper's mind. The man could feel that he could respond.

[I'm the new guy.]

{Cute. Come out and I'll make this quick.}

[Sure, where are you?]

{Finally, a smart one, I'm coming up the main ingress.}

The young man had no interest in revealing himself. Just because the words carried no tone or emotion did not mean that he was a fool. He could sense the threat, it had crossed the distance from the hangers to the fake-town in a matter of less than a minute, whereas it took him substantially longer. Now though, he could see the pulsing 'blip' in his mind's eye. It was slowly making its way up the centre of the town, truthfully being exactly where it had told him it would be.

{I'm starting to suspect you're thinking you're clever...}

[Why's that?]

{You're hiding.}

[I'm struggling to work the controls. Only just started piloting.]

{I don't like liars 'new guy'}

As he crept around the main road, quickly tip toing across the intersecting main road, and using the alleys and smaller side roads to move around, Casper caught his first glimpse of the threat. It was a mech, but unlike his own; blocky, thick with exposed metal, pistons and wires. This one was sleek, designed for speed, but no less deadly. It reminded him of a sword. The sharp angles, the pointed feet that stabbed into the ground. It had a series of spikes along it's back like boney wings.

The whole thing screamed 'professional', all wrapped up in a red and silver paint job. It was the mech of a main character to Casper's eyes.

It didnt so much as walk or move either, the word that sprang to Casper's mind was 'stalking'. It stalked forwards, it's 'head' a pointed eagle-like structure, turning left to right, obviously scanning for him.

[What makes you think I'm a liar?]

{This is just getting insulting now. I'm the final test 'new guy'. You think they'd put you against me? Before you can even move?}

[Stranger things have happened.]

Casper got no response to his last message, but watched as the pointed head, ducked low and out of sight. He was positioned behind her now, closer to the south, nearer the hangers where she had entered, but he now lost track of her. Casper wasn't a fighter, he had no intention of getting into a brawl and made his way to the edge of the town fully intending on running back to the hangers.

The young man wasn't without some knowledge of how to throw a punch. After a physical altercation in his younger school years, his overly dramatic mother had sent him to self defence classes to stand up to the bullies. Instead of being beaten up in just a school setting, he was summarily beaten up in an official setting instead.

All he'd learnt was howto roll with the punches, literally. Casper never stayed on the ground, that was where 'bad' always ended up 'worse'.

Still crouched, sometimes using his hands against the hardtop of the fake roads to help him move, Casper finally made it to the edge of the town and learnt that it wasn't going to be that easy.

The second part of his mech broke the edge boundary of the faux town, a klaxon sounded along with one of the annoying drones swooping down with a red, flashing light directly over his head.

Casper bolted across the road and practically dived into an alleyway, into the town and away from the alarm, which remained in place. His head poked out from around a corner further into the town to see if the mysterious mech had approached to investigate.

The pointed leg that swung at Casper's head missed by what felt like mere inches, saved only because he flinched at something moving fast and fell backwards, deeper into the alleyway. The assaulting red and silver mech obliterated the plain wall with its kick in a shower of destroyed concrete and rebar; bent and demolished at the sheer force of its strike.

{You're fast.} Came a message.

Casper was up, his fists raised, elbows in. He was in his pocket and ready to protect his head.

The heel kick to his solar plexus sent him backwards, arms outstretched by the sheer force as he flew out of the other end of the alleyway and rolling head over heels into the main road again.

{Not fast enough.}

Casper backward rolled onto his feet, one of the buildings arresting his movement in a jarring thud that stuttered his vision. He didn't think, merely moved as he dived to his left down the main road. The besieged building that he'd lent against only moments ago was already buckled, but the rocket propelled mech that slammed into it with its shoulder, destroyed it in a shower of crumbling dust and materials.

The assaulting mech stomped from the cloud of debris and glared down the main road; its own optic sensors scanning for the new pilot.

The road was empty.

{You know I would have already won this right?} The red and silver mech taunted, stalking forwards, looking left and right, clearing buildings. It was sending the message over an open band, so anyone with ears on could hear it.

[I'm still standing.] Came a similar open frequency message. Qik snarled. She couldn't track or know where the new pilot was, she was working on visuals only.

{They disable my tracking system. To give you the tinest of a chance.}

She was crouched low, clearing corners, making sure the 'new guy' didn't try what she had and kick her recon unit in. Without eyes, it was an automatic win for whoever could see.

[If it's any consolation, I don't think this has a tracking system.]

Qik smirked, cocky son of a bitch. She was going to enjoy breaking him down, bit by-

[Heads up!]

A shadow flickered across the street and Qik span on one foot, swinging her leg round in a perfect roundhouse kick that would cut any mech that was in range behind her in half.

But despite her aiming high, looking to destroy an arm or even knock off the head of the opponent, her kick was too low.

From atop a building, the new mech was halfway through a jump and falling rapidly towards Qik. It was a terrible, stupid idea. Gravity was not friendly with anything as big and heavy as a mech. Only those rigs with jump packs and boosters could consider leaving the ground. But this idiot had climbed a building and had launched itself at her?!

So shocked was she, that this idiot would try such an insane and self-destructive move, Qik couldn't decide how to react. She had literally never seen this before.

That delay was enough.

On his way past, Casper grabbed a hold of the eagle-esque head and held on tight, his metal fingers denting the recon unit casing.

Gravity grabbed him and threw him against her, flipping him over her while he hurtled towards the ground in a mulit-ton mech that landed squarely on its recon unit, destroying into a million tiny, expensive pieces. Qik landed on her back, but immediately lost all visual read outs as her own unit was partislly torn from its housing.

{*What?!*} Qik demanded, unbelieving this idiot could succeed in such a stupid move! This was squidgit-shit!

"What?!" Blurted Zeet, blinking as the human had just defeated, the undefeated mercenary; Qik on his very first jaunt within a single hour of his first mech startup.

[What?] Asked Casper, also blinded and unable to move, but wholly unaware of the shitstorm he had just started.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #geckin #lizard #mecha

[wolven91]

Tasty Treat

If you want to get on the good side of an ursidain, cook for them. To say they are 'food motivated' was to describe the universe as 'mildly wide'.

Ursidains would eat a meal to mark your arrival at their home. They'd eat a meal to mark your first evening. They'd test which of you could lift the other, and if an ursidain can lift their guest: it is their job to feed the guest!

Breakfasts were huge affairs, the giant bear-like creatures adored the concept that humans had the saying; 'breakfast is the most important meal of the day'.

That oneoffhand comment from one human guest, complimenting the ursidain delegation, way back at the beginning?

Within one week, every ursidain majority world that had heard of humans, also knew this saying.

This alone was to firmly catapult humanity into the ursidain species', favourite species position.

So when Jonathan had first met with and stayed over at Garsh's home, he'd wanted to return the favour.

There was just one problem.

Ursidains, on average, reached thirteen feet in height.

As Jonathan stood there, glaring up at the cooker top while he could still hear the rumbling snore of Garsh in the other room, he had to come up with a plan on how to approach this.

==0==

Garsh woke shortly before she would have normally.

Her fist-sized leather nose scrunched up and wiggled in a tight circle. Her tongue, moments before lolling out of her mouth, returned to her wide maw whenever moistened it, licked her chops and nose, before sniffing.

Her eyes shot open.

Something smelled *delicious*.

Normally a ponderously slow creature, Garsh rolled out of bed with the speed of an apex predator, her mass rolling and sloshing as she padded out of the bedroom, following her nose.

"Oh you really shouldn't have d-*JONATHAN!!*" She bellowed, her mind lurching from looking forward to eating, to abject fear.

The human was stood on the cooker, with several utensils celotaped together so he could move and flip the crisped squidgit, all the while using a pot lid as a full body riot shield while the fatty meat spat and sizzled.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #bear #ursidain

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 3

The Nerve Suit was skintight and left nothing to the imagination.

Casper had already tried plucking the thin layer of jet black second skin away from himself, but hadn’t been able to get any purchase on it with his covered fingertips. Looking back to the mirror, the only thing exposed was his face and shaved head. The young man grimaced, he’d never been one for hair styles, but cutting off his messy brown curls had been an unpleasent twist that he hadn’t expected when agreeing to this experiment. Glancing down in the mirror, he instinctively covered himself, the suit rendered him genderless at a glance, but it was still rather obvious after more than a passing glance.

“Casper?” Came a voice and the now telltale sound of robotic legs whirring and walking towards the room the human was stood in. He glanced back at his normal clothes, then at the mirror again.

“In here.” The young man called out. The sounds of the robotic legs go louder until he saw Wren appear in the mirror in the doorway to the room. She was atop her bipedal robotic platform that most geckins used around anyone larger than their single foot in height.

“They’re all ready for you. Last chance to run without anyone seeing.” The foot tall green geckin offered without emotion in her voice. Neither judging, nor leading him in a certain way. Casper suspected that she had her own horse in this race, but out of everyone who the young man had spoken to; she’d been the most warm.

“This is going to be fun.” Casper began, convincing himself as much as her as he turned and, whilst trying to ignore that he was very much on display to her, she matched his pace as he marched toward the hanger. Speed and stride wasn’t a problem for the geckin, at least not for their platforms. They could outrun Casper at the push of a button, completely ignoring they’d outlast him with the fusion cores that powered them.

“It’s certainly going to be interesting, but why would you use the word ‘fun’?” Wren asked calmly, keeping the conversation light, but still obviously monitoring the man. The small green geckin had become his doctor and psychologist of sorts. Carefully watching him and seemingly keeping the more extreme ‘Zeet’, the head engineer, in check.

“Well, we have media and fantasy stories about piloting mechs. Whole franchises that are built around the concept of bipedal or multi-legged technicals. Apparently, I’m living the dream, and I didn’t even need to train for it.” Casper shrugged, feeling oddly disconnected from the current events.

 

“You understand this is unlikely to be easy right?” The small green alien gently pointed out. A glance down at her and Casper noted how her neck ruffle was pulled tight against her. He gave her a wane smile and nodded.

“Oh yes, Zeet has explained at length that it’ll be like learning to walk again. Moving an arm or leg on its own, is its own thing. Even all four limbs is another level, but I’m going to be controlling a thirty-foot mech, dealing with its balance, its systems, everything.” Casper grinned and chuckled as they entered the hanger proper, and the noise went up significantly. Casper had to raise his voice somewhat to ensure Wren could hear him, she had to practically shout back at him.

“He made a big deal that I would struggle to balance it without a tail.” The human said with a smirk.

Wren grinned a sharp grin.

Taking a moment to look up at the giant machine, Casper could only be impressed.

The mech itself was a rough translation of a human body. Two legs, two arms, a torso and a head on top. They had toyed with the idea of a more mobile machine, with digitigrade legs or even giving him equipment for his first outing, but Wren had been present and argued them all down. In the end, it was her pointing out, not for Casper’s safety, but the cost of breaking or damaging complicated equipment if the first piloting effort failed.

No point in having a fancy jetpack if a panicked human trigged the jets and crashed into the ceiling, rending the bay unusable for the foreseeable future.

So as Casper gave the giant bipedal vehicle a critical eye, he noted that it was surprisingly thin. The legs were slim, several meters wide to a normal human, but compared to the rest of the mech it felt like they were too small to lift such bulk. Likewise, the arms were malnourished, obviously barebones. He could see pistons and wires. They were all strapped down and had metal plates protecting them in places, but this mech was not designed for anything other than an experiment.

A prototype. Saying their true mechs often looked like geckins; digitigrade legs for explosive speed and massive mechanical tails for balance. Casper had to guess that this was the first, truly humanoid machine they’d made… and only in the short space of time too.

Their industry capability was frightening.

“He was quite upset that he had to remove the tail section of the mech. No point in adding parts and complexity for the first step.” She pointed out, that wasn’t something Casper had heard yet. Interesting. The next time Casper spoke, it was to Zeet in the form of a short, sharp ‘good luck’ and nod.

“You look ready, like a real geckin pilot.” The blue geckin pointed out, gesturing to the skintight Nerve Suit from his position on his own mobile platform.

“Just a bit taller.” Casper grinned, but realised he made a faux par with the immediate frown form Zeet. “Sorry. Nerves. The suits pretty tight, I didn’t realise it would be like this.” The young quickly said, running a gloved hand over his stomach. Thankfully, this change in topic was enough to remove the dark look on the blue geckin’s face as they rejoined the conversation again. He had to remember that geckins were touchy about their height…

“Yes, well the Nerve Suit is needed to ensure the body has as little feedback from your true body as possible. It should be plenty light as it’s only a pawful of atoms thick.” Casper pulled a face and rubbed his fingertips together. He felt pressure, but not sensation other than how slick his grip was.

“You ready to climb in? Remember, we’re just calibrating. Remember; don’t be disappointed if you can’t run yet, all we’re looking for is movement. Wiggle the feet, twitch the fingers. Look up and down.” Zeet rambled, nervous all of a sudden at the prospect of the human experiment. He continued to run through a check list of basic movements.

“I understand Zeet, I’ll do my best for you.” Casper promised, unsure if he could reach out and touch the shoulder of the geckin, or if that would be too far. Was he supposed to be the nervous one? With everything going on with humanity, it seemed impossible that they would allow anything to happen to the young man. Like walking along a tourist bridge and it has a glass floor; this was all simulated danger, not real danger. Right? Casper turned to the mech itself and headed towards the team of technicians who were waiting for him. They were crowded around the open hatch where Casper would climb in like a pack of scavengers waiting for their prey to fall over.

The clamber into the pilot chamber wasn’t the issue, nor was the coffin-like pod that required Casper to lay down with his arms crossed over his chest, it was the needles. The pod pressed in on his legs, hips and shoulders, his arms were still free for the moment, but would be locked into place when the sarcophagus’s lid came down into place. The inside of the casket was filled with a gel that had given way by several inches as he sat down, then shuffled himself in. If he was struck by anything, or more likely; fell over, the gel would absorb the impact to his physical body. It would also swell, once he was sealed, securing him in place.

“Legs in place!” Called one of the techs as they fit a breather over Casper’s nose and mouth.

Then, after a moment, Casper was stabbed.

Along the various rivers and paths that followed his nervous system, hundreds of hair thin needles all stabbed into him like a wave of bee stings, causing the human to grunt and flinch. The shoulder locks stopped him from moving too much as the techs gave curt nods that all was well. Then a series of five needles thrust into and along the young man’s spine and he lost all feeling of his body.

His eyes snapping open and gasping at the sudden pain and of a fear that something had gone wrong! He couldn’t move!

Zeet appeared in his vision, next to two of the techs that were disconnecting tubes from the mech itself.

“You’re good. First disconnect from your nervous system is always the worst they say. We’re about to give up control on the mech, you’ll be in the dark for a few minutes, but that’s it. Blink twice if you understand.” Asked the blue geckin, staring down at the human. Without a voice, the young man, blinked twice.

“Outstanding, good human. Lets get this closed and submerge him. Casper? You’ll hear me over the radio. Follow my instructions. You’re going to be seeing the world from a whole new perspective.”

Casper tried to nod but was reminded again that he couldn’t move at all. He just laid there.

Flat on his back, from the perspective of a corpse in a grave, looking up at the techs and Zeet, as if they were mourners about to throw the first handfuls of dirt upon him.

Then the lid of his casket slid closed and sealed against him. He felt pressure on his body as the gel filled casket embraced him and then all was still. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t see or hear. He couldn’t smell anything. His body wanted to twitch, to move and kick. But even when he tried to test the limits of the pod, of the gel, he couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t even tell if he was moving!

Panic was rather rapidly growing within his chest as he lay there, alone in a sensationless void.

Was this what death felt like?

“-asper? Casper can you hear me?” Zeet’s voice appeared in his head.

He tried to instinctively respond, to say ‘[Yes]’, but immediately felt and knew it was pointless, his [paralyzed throat and mouth meant talking was out].

“Excellent! We’ve got your feed here. You don’t need your throat anymore.” Came the excited reply.

[What?]

“You’re connected to the machine’s transponder. You talk, or try to talk like normal, and we will read you.” Zeet explained, Casper could hear the excitement in his voice.

[Is everything okay?]

“It’s going fantastic! We literally just turned this system on and you’re already communicating with us. You’re a natural, human! You ready for more systems?”

With nothing better to do, Casper thought of his reply.

[Sure, let’s do it.]

“Alright, give me a minute.”

It was a strange method to talk. Casper could… feel? The correct way to communicate. It wasn’t his unprocessed thoughts being transmitted. He could feel what he was sending to Zeet, like he was approving every syllable. What information the human wanted to send, was sent, and nothing more. There was no tone, no emotion. His words, thoughts, sentences, were words on a screen.

Light appeared, briefly blinding Casper, who squinted, and the hangar immediately came into focus. His head was drooped forward and for the most part he could only see the floor that had been directly in front of the mech itself. There were geckins down there all running to and fro. Focusing on one, Casper’s vision rapidly zoomed in and he could see each and every individual scale on the yellow geckin tech’s face, before Casper relaxed his eyes a fraction and his vision pulled out slightly. The geckin tech monitored a console that sat beneath the tower where Casper had entered, seemingly unaware he was being watched.

“Okay, we’ve turned on your external cameras. Do you feel any new sensations? Any sort of… connections that you can access?” Zeet asked carefully.

[I can see.]

“Yes, we want you to access those so you can see out of the cameras attached to the recon unit.”

[No Zeet, I can see. There’s a yellow geckin at my feet.]

“You can- Hoy! Who’s below us?” Zeet shouted, Casper could tell it was loud, but the radio wasn’t being ‘heard’ in the sense that the human wasn’t using his ‘ears’ to hear the radio. He was… understanding it without the need for such things.

As Casper watched, the yellow geckin reacted, looking up and waving his arms up at someone before shrugging.

“You’re right! You’ve already… Hah! Okay then. This is beyond what I was hoping for. I think we can jump a few steps.”

“Sir, this is ill-advised.” Wren voice said, coming over the radio loud and clear.

“You’re here as a courtesy doctor, you’re welcome, but now as a courtesy, you will not interfere with my work.”

[What’s happening?]

“We’re going to disconnect you from our power and control. You will have full control of the mech and its systems.”

[You said that was dangerous?]

“For a normal pilot yet. But your aptitude for this was off the charts. I think it’s time to jump a few levels.”

There was a flurry of activity as the geckins who were milling about at Casper’s feet suddenly began disconnecting from the various consoles and began disappearing from the edge of the human’s vision. He could see the metal platforms that counted as the mech’s feet, but aside from that and the bottom of the tower, there was just the hanger floor.

“Alright, we’ve got everyone to a safe distance. In a few seconds, we’re passing control of the whole mech to yourself. We won’t be in control of anything. You ready?”

[As I’ll ever be.]

“Good. Hand off in 3… 2… 1…”

The change was sudden and startling. Immediately, Casper’s legs buckled as his knees weren’t prepared to take the sudden weight of his body once more. His arms flung forward as the ground rushed up to greet him, but he stopped himself from bouncing his head off the concrete by completing a half press-up.

There was too much, too fast. His body felt, stiff; tight. Like he’d been in a cramped position for so long that his whole body was sluggish.

It was too much. Casper felt lightheaded, as if he was suffocating! His heart was pounding in his chest so fast that it was humming! A giant metal hand reached up and clutched at his metal torso, sparks flying as the two metals clashed against each other.

[Something’s wrong!]

“It’s fine, just activate your intakes.” Zeet ordered calmly, despite the panic rising.

“He’s panicking, eject him.”

“No, he just needs to start up the intakes. Casper? Your reactor needs air flow, active the intakes.”

“Power it down Zeet! His vitals are spiking.”

[I don’t. I can’t. My chest feels tight!]

The human was panicking, he could feel something was wrong, like he was running on empty, like he needed to close his eyes and lay down. It felt like he was dying.

“Casper! Batteries are running low, active the intakes!”

The words were less clear now, like his mind was swimming. The young man felt for the first time since getting into the machine his vision failed, like he was blinking despite not needing to before now.

Wren’s voice broke through the roaring and nonsense that Casper was being bombarded by.

“Breathe Casper! Take a breath!”

The human sucked in air as deeply as he could shocked that he had forgotten such a normal thing.

From outside, the vents that lined the pectoral area of the mech slammed open with great turbines that sucked in the vital oxygen needed for the reactor that sat in the centre of the mech’s chest. It burped to life and the exhausts along the back of the machine began to spew heat and a cough of black smoke. To the geckin engineers, the ever-pleasant noise of a system booting up to full power whined to life as the human mech heaved in an oddly biological movement.

There were no ‘lungs’ built into the machine, only vents, fans, and a reactor to power it all, but the way it was gyrating, put only the image of someone who had been suffocating gulping in air into their minds. The mech was currently on one knee, the other leg folded to support its weight. One arm was placed on the ground and the second was still touching the chest plate, scratching the bare, unpainted metal.

[I’m okay.]

“’Breathe’ doctor?” Snapped Zeet, not addressing or not seeing the text on his console that Casper had sent.

“He’s not trained on the technical specifications of a machine. His point of reference is what he can feel. What he knows.” Replied Wren, defensively, but not backing down.

“He said they had media of mechs, that it was a common fantasy. What popular media doesn’t have common sense specs?!” Barked Zeet’s voice.

“He’s not a geckin, he’s human. The importance of certain subject will be different.” She replied, still sturdy in her observation.

The voices in Casper’s head continued to bicker as the world stopped swimming and he slowly raised his head to look around. He felt less sluggish now, like he had started to shake the cobwebs from his bones and movement was easier, as if he was awake again. He felt strong. Fast. As if his body not just wouldn’t fail him; but couldn’t.

== 0 ==

To the outside, whilst Zeet and Wren continued to argue the toss, the techs watched as the giant mech’s recon unit raised up and scanned the hanger. With a great heave, one of the legs raised the body up in a single smooth movement before the second leg straightened and held the giant mech upright and proud.

The mechanical hands, simple things, were raised as the cameras of the recon unit that sat atop the mech inspected them, as if seeing them for the first time. This was more than any of the techs had expected. New pilots barely got their radios working after the first hour, let alone movement. Why was it so… biological in its movements?

“Sir?” Called the head technician, up at the two geckins that were still arguing over utilizing the correct terminology in a professional setting and pointedly ignoring the several hundred-ton mech that was now moving around in a manner that was thought impossible for the timeline.

The mech took a single step forward, then a second.

“Sir?!” Shouted the head tech again, more urgently now.

Thankfully, Zeet and the good doctor paused their debate to look round, only to realize the mech was no longer where they left it.

It was currently headed towards the great metal shutter that blocked the outside world from the hanger. Beyond the shutter was the proving grounds, where pilots that had finally fully integrated with their mechs would prove that they were ready for furthering the geckin interests.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #geckin #lizard #mecha

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 2

“Okay, make a fist.” Asked the serious geckin, blue in scale but the owner of long spines that started on his nose and continued up and over his head, down his back and finished at his tail. Zeet was his name.

Casper the friendly human, made a fist and felt the action drain him, as if he’d been at the gym for the last hour doing the same action. However, as his fingers met his palm and the tendons on the back of his hand tensed and corded against his skin, the giant metal fist not a few metres away, suspended in a secure field; made an identical fist.

“What’s the drift?” The blue geckin asked the second geckin who monitored the process not a few feet away, but a fair distance for the diminutive creatures. Her name, as far as Casper knew, was Wren.

“0.001%.” She retorted with an equally serious tone, she turned back and adjusted the two round panes of glass that sat across her snout. If not for the fact that Casper was sweating with the exertion of making a fist, he would have found her cute.

“Impossible. Check it again.” The first geckin demanded, turning to face her as if she had just made a poorly timed joke.

“Sir, I checked it three times, then used the older program to see if it got a different result.” Wren explained, quite confident despite Zeet’s incredulous tone.

“And?”

“It reports 0.002%.”

Both geckins turned back to the human, almost expectantly and gazed at him. No; studying him.

“W-what?” He asked, strain in his voice.

“You can relax Casper. You did very well.” Praised Zeet as Casper gasped, unclenching his fist, and slumping in the chair. He’d been fresh as a daisy when he’d sat down; why had a few wires been so draining?!

“That… took effort…” The young man explained, slipping his arm from the sleeve, and ensuring it was placed carefully onto the caddy.

“You were controlling more than just muscle and sinew young man.” Zeet explained, touching a finger to the control rod of his own personal walker and approached the human. At a foot tall, just like the rest of the geckins, he utilised mechanical legs attached to a platform that he stood upon to move around larger distances.

“Why am I exhausted?”

“Because, unbeknownst to your conscious mind, you not only controlled your own limb, but also controlled that robotic limb.”

“I’ve seen that done before…” Casper licked his lips to try and bring moisture to them. “They used electrodes or something… they had to concentrate, but it didn’t tire them out.”

Wren appeared at Casper’s side and pressed a bottle of orange liquid into his hands. It was almost as tall as her.

“Drink this, you’ll feel better.” She promised, her green scales were a deep emerald, her it was the frill around her neck that was only partially pulled in that made Casper smile. She was agitated. Perhaps worried about him?

The man gave her a curt nod, which caused her frill to pull in tight before he grasped the bottle and drank from it deeply. It wasn’t quite ‘orange’, but it was certainly something citrus and refreshed him almost immediately. After the first gulp he took a breath and downed the rest of the bottle in one, almost immediately feeling better and like his old self.

“What you just did was unconsciously control every single servo, circuit, and piston within that machine. Your mind: without your knowledge, was able to manage and steady all of that. The electrode method, that you mentioned, is a low intensity method of controlling simpler systems.”

“And we can’t use that method with these?”

“These are not for domestic use. I make it quite clear to you; these are bleeding edge machines. Capable of not only reacting as your body, not as a mere extension, but also your mind being able to incorporate the advantages these machines have.”

“Like what?”

“We can have a play with telescopic vision if you like? I’ve heard that is the easiest to manage. If you get addicted to the world those eyes, we can try out electromagnetic wavelengths, infrared, perhaps-“

“Sir.” Wren cut in, a frown on her face and her small, pointed teeth being bared.

“Mm, yes. Carry on.” Zeet surrendered, holding up his hands as if giving up.

“Before we go on, how are you feeling?” Wren asked, looking up at Casper and adjusting her specs.

“Better.” The man replied, giving her a warm grin.

“Better? You weren’t well before?” She poked, not letting him off the hook yet.

“I was tired, like I’d been doing bicep curls all morning. But now it’s like I’m fresh again?” Casper admitted honestly, if she was a doctor checking on him, then he wasn’t about to lie. The speed of his recovery was as if he had been fooled into being tired, rather than actually being tired.

“Marvelous.” Zeet whispered.

“*Sir.*” Wren immediately hissed; the respect of his seniority gone. Casper frowned then cut in, there was something he wasn’t being told.

“What’s going on? Is this about the.. the ‘drift’ thing? What was the drift you were on about?” He asked, demanding an answer.

“I knew he was bright, am I allowed to answer that *direct* question doctor?” Zeet asked the green geckin with a near taunting tone.

Wren merely sniffed, flattening her neck ruffle against herself and shrugged with a single hand, offering Casper up to Zeet, seemingly satisfied.

“’Drift’ is the natural loss of signal strength between your mind and the mechanical parts. The more parts, bits, and pieces, the greater the chance of drift and the more sluggish the movements and actions of the piloted mechs will be, all the way until failure.” Zeet explained with a toothy grin. It was Wren who spoke next, softly explaining it to Casper without infantizing him.

“Geckin have a fantastic drift score. We can manage mechs of incredible size and complexity without much loss of control. Realistically, the next closest would be chintians, but they refuse to be pilots for our mechs.” She said, turning her hand in a gesture as she spoke, still calmly and softly.

“Why?” Casper asked.

“You know the plug in your arm?” Zeet began, pointing at the limb that was limp in Casper’s lap.

Casper looked down and turned his arm over. There was a single dark red dot of scabbed blood. Around it was a bright red circle with the metal casing of the plug had been pressed into his flesh.

“Yeah?”

“It can lead to fur-loss.” Concluded Zeet, rather offhandedly.

“Along with other things.” Cut in Wren, with the speed of someone adding ‘terms and conditions’ at the end of an advert.

“They consider that unacceptable. We consider it the cost of having faster reaction speeds to our machines. They rely on taking hits and surviving them. We believe in the philosophy of never getting hit.” The tiny lizard explained with a mouthful of sharp teeth, eager at the thought.

“Do geckins have any fur to lose? Do you lose scales?” Casper asked, if there were side effects for some species, were there any for geckins?

“No.” Zeet answered immediately.

“Well…” Wren began, but was immediately cut off.

“No, we do not lose scales with use.” Zeet said again, staring at the doctor.

“They can dull though.” She explained, closing her eyes then turning her head to look at Casper before opening them again. She held his gaze firmly.

“Not through usage doctor!” Zeet snapped, certainly exasperated.

“A pilot who is connected for long periods or who is in intense environments requiring constant movement will find side effects, such as scale fading.” Wren continued, putting across the idea that it was not without a cost.

“He doesn’t need to hear this, what is the chance he’s going to be in that environment? Zero!” Zeet shouted, throwing his hands up before gesturing to Casper, then then inert arm.

“Look, it’s fine. As you say; unlikely.” Casper agreed, trying to calm the tension in the room. “So what about me? What about human drift”

“Ah, good male. A fine mind between those big ears.” Zeet grinned again, turning to Casper and clasping his hands. “Your drift, at worst calculation was about 0.002%. That is nothing. That is about as good as a prostetic replacing your actual arm. Unheard of for managing an arm that complicated.”

“What’s a geckin’s drift percentage?”

“5.” Wren said pointedly. “On average. Ace pilots are around the single percent or less range, but that is through biological luck, augmentation and prolonged life-long training. Your natural ability appears to be quite potent.” The tiny green lizard admited.

“Yours, baring in mind your evolution wouldn’t have any sort of natual selection for this, is considered a one in a life time pilot. If humans are all this well adjusted, each and every one of them will be very much welcome in geckin territories…”

Casper turned to the arm and gazed at it. A mech pilot? That would be fantastic! He didn’t like the idea of ‘stressful environments’ though.

“You wouldn’t want me in like, a fight or anything, right?”  Casper asked, staring at Zeet carefully.

“May my tail fall off! No! Could you imagine what the GC would say if we endangered a human? Immediately after your new classification? Absolutely not. Completely out of the question.” He promised, waving his hand as if to dismiss a fly that was bothering him.

“Normally I would warn you about listening to our Zeet here, but he’s right. The geckin people are still under threat by ssypno aggression. Their seat at the table of three means all they have to do is convince one of the other two to agree that they be allowed to create a vassal of our people and we can expect no support from the GC to stop them. Endangering you would all but guarantee the support of one or both of the other two.”

A small hand touched his arm as she leant forward to rest her’s against him, the good doctor offering him a smile.

“The danger to you is over, you can rest easy knowing the rest of your life will be free of hardships.” She lied.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

why’d you start following me? I’m genuinely confused.

The more folk I follow, the more interesting things pop up on my dash.

If someone likes my stories, reposts them or follows me? Gets followed.

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 1

Geckins and chintians are very good mechanics.

Watching either species work, it would be easy to assume that all either of the one-foot-tall species had to do was glance at an engine and they'd be able to say 'oh, that's how that works'.  That wasn't true of course, but their knack for mechanics and ability to build, repair and design machines was unparalleled amongst the stars.

The one thing both species did better than any of the larger species of the galaxy was mechs. To the humans, the moment they glimpsed a hulking walking machine, all their science fiction dreams came true in one moment. As to why it was the diminutive species that invented machines that made the taller and larger species have to look up, no one wanted to really say out loud. The geckins almost proudly wore the chip on their shoulder about their size thanks to the far larger ssypno struggling to convert the geckin people into a vassal state before seemingly giving up. The chintians on the other hand always had their eye on their neighbours; the canids. Neither species had a good introduction in the Galactic Community and had paid for their membership in blood.

 The design of their machines however, differed depending on who made them.

Chintians piloted their mechs via the use of artificial intelligence, two separated minds working in tandem with one another. Talking, communicating and planning their goals together. The geckins however, used direct connection with the machines themselves. There wasn't an intelligence within the machine like the chintians, but the pilots often reported that the machines had a personality beyond their own.

The short comings of the chintian design was the delay in between seeing and reacting to something, not to mention the separation between mech and pilot. The issues with geckin design was the draining aspect of piloting their mechs on the pilot itself. Geckin pilots were often geckins who appeared sickly, tired or gaunt. As if they were being drained of their very life force.

But, for the time being, these mechs were not heavily used in fighting. At least not officially. The Galactic Community government had no mechs in their standing army, regardless of what reports from separatist forces suggested. The GC merely pointed out soldiers of fortune were a thing and they could utilise whatever hardware they had access to.

It was when Casper had been practically dumped in Geckin territory with his meagre belongings that he shortly afterwards discovered all of this. The fact that they greeted him atop walkers that put them at his height was not lost on him. The fact he reacted with unconcealed amazement and awe meant that Casper, very quickly, became a celebrity on the Geck home world, his reaction and gushing about the walkers broadcast over and over to all corners of the planet.

It was a mere three weeks later, when Casper was in his quite opulent home a top a tower in the main city, surrounded by a good thirty geckins that they discovered yet more things they liked about humans.

"What's this one say?" Asked a yellow geckin, Casper had given up trying to remember all their names and they simply didn't care. Most seemingly just shouted 'oi, you' and the geckin they were talking to looked round. The young man looked round and observed the DVD that the geckin had pulled out of the pile. Casper had merely seen what was happening on the horizon the other month and swept his had across his shelves of DVDs and tossed them all into a bug out bag along with his books and anything else to hand.

To this day he couldn't say why he'd saved the media, he hadn't thought about it. He just did.

"That one is... Ha... Casper the friendly ghost." He replied with a grin, the translators not having his written language yet meant anything written had to be translated for them.

"You have a story written about you?!" A green geckin exclaimed, jumping from the shelves onto Casper's back. One had to get used to geckins clambering all over oneself if they were staying in geckin space. He could feel no less than three geckins in the various pockets of his cargo pants, fully asleep enjoying the heat of his legs through the material.

"No, just a coincidence. He's about a dead human." That immediately lost any interest in the tale.

"What about this one? Looks like a Tax Two?" Asked a red geckin, holding up a different case.

"Oh, Pacific Rim. Giant monsters attack and the only way to beat them back is giant mechs. What's a Tax Two?"

Casper's question was initially ignored as a surge of multiple-coloured scales across many different creatures ran towards the one holding the approved DVD. It was amazing to the man how quickly they had reinvented a device capable of reading the DVD correctly, but again; it was a species of engineers.

As they settled, Casper's lap becoming buried in the geckins and the rest of the oversized furniture, at least to them, was likewise covered.

"Oh and a Tax Two is a heavy loader. Manipulators instead of weapons. Good for tearing vegetation out and clearing areas, although I bet it could knock out an ursidain if you gave it a swing."

"Huh... I think you'll like this one then..." Casper promised, shuffling down into the seat, content to be a climbing frame for the various blighters for the time being.

"Huh... I wonder how well humans mesh with a suit that big..." asked one of thr geckins turning to fix Casper with a look that was not one Casper had seen before.

For a brief moment, he felt as if the geckin only saw an important cog that needed to be fit somewhere, not a human.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #scalie #human x scalie #geckin #lizard

[wolven91]

It's Cold Outside

Space isn't as cold as one expects.

Oh sure, in the shadow of something; it's freezing, but exposed to a star and no way to naturally dissipate the heat? It gets hot quickly. Having a robust method of cooling one's ship is vital, otherwise the crew would cook within hours. One's ability to cool one's systems is the deciding factor of how much a ship can do in most situations. Problem arise though when that system goes on the fritz and doesn't stop cooling.

On its own, Neil wouldn't have really had an issue. Maybe put on an extra jacket or hoodie? Sure, it was cool, but it wasn't cold. Unfortunately, Yil'ro was a ssypno and cold blooded.

She wasn't cruel, evil, or mean. She was not cold blooded in that sense, but more literally; she made very little of her own heat and without enough heat, she would slow down, become sluggish and eventually fall into a coma. The ship wasn't huge, it was enough for a grand total of eleven crew members. Yil'ro was missed when she didn't appear at breakfast.

When the human had gone to check on her in her, comparatively to her size, tiny quarters, he'd keyed the door open to find her trying desperately to warm up. Blankets covered her and several instant hot food snacks resting against her gently steaming into the air-conditioned room.

"It's... Not... not enough..." She explained haltingly. Coiling herself into a tight knot, causing the hot-pots to wobble. 

Neils, unafraid of the blue Titanoboa, stepped up and placed a hand on the nearest loop of her tail in a show of care and solidarity.

"Is there anything I can do? I can bring more blankets?" The man suggested, genuinely concerned for his friend of the last three months. However, she reacted to his touch, pushing into his palm.

"By the storm snake's blessing, your hands are like a fire..." She murmured, seemingly not hearing him.

Emboldened, the man rubbed his palms together quickly and placed both back onto the coil, which surged up again and into his hands. Neil had always delighted in the deep blue scales of Yil'ro, they were so dark that without light they looked almost black. Currently they shimmered and moulded under his touch. 

"Is this helping?"

"Yes!"

"Should I get everyone else?"

"It doesn't work like this with t-them. Too much fur. Feels cold."

The skin. Humans were alone in the universe with regards to how little they had to cover them. A bit of hair, here and there, but nothing even close to the full head to tail covering of pelt that most of the other races had. Skin on scale transferred heat with such efficiency, that it had been reported that humans who touched the draconians, geckins or the ssypno; felt heavenly.

Neils frowned as he tried to think of a solution, before his mind offered him one.

There was a second of debate, but all it took was to see Yil'ro's miserable face, pulled tight against her coils to make the decision for him.

The man put his weight onto the coil in front of him and vaulted it, swinging a leg up and over it. The size of a ssypno can not be understated. They regularly reached forty to forty-five feet in length with the potential to get much, much bigger. Even with his leg thrown over one of her smaller coils, his toes barely touched the floor.

"Ooh.. What-? Neil?!" Yil'ro started, apparently opening her eyes to see what had just briefly provided two legs' worth of heat across one section of her tail. "What are you... you doing?" She asked, flinching as she shivered with the cold.

"It's an old human trick, sharing body heat."

"But-"

"In life and death situations, skin on skin contact can save your life. I'm not offering, I'm instructing you-" Neil removed his top, the frigid air making his skin pebble. "-To coil me. Shut up! Just do it." Neil ordered with a firm tone, silencing Yil'ro before she could say another word.

Despite her cooled state, the speed at which a ssypno could move shocked the human as her torso appeared from the depths of her coils and embraced him with all four arms. Then, thick, muscular coils wrapped and coiled around the pair of them, sandwiching them together before the outside world was lost and all the remained was the sound of the ssypno and the human's breathing.

She was cool to the touch and Neils could feel the heat sap from him, before the air in the confined space began to warm notably.

"Oooh..." the chest Neil was pressed to rumbled. "Oh my..." Yil'ro murmured.

"I had always wondered... what it was like to hold you- I mean a human..." She corrected hastily. Neil just grinned.

"Enjoy what you like, I just want y-" Neil's words were cut off as he squeaked. One of the broad hands that were clasped down his back had twitched sidesways and given his rump a hard squeeze having him jerk forwards into her.

"You said 'enjoy'..." Yil'ro giggled, already seeming much closer to her old self. "Can we... do this every morning? It would definitely help me get moving..."

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #human x scalie #snake #ssypno

[wolven91]

thinking about a watchmaker in your universe. someone who's job was to repair small, extremely intricate devices that are redundant in space. i mean, why would you spend so much time and effort finding and fixing a watch when an ai can do it without having to be wound every couple weeks and fixed every couple months? even if you do want a watch you can just get a digital one that has more functions and is more durable at a fraction of the price and effort.

so they change jobs. maybe to a more useful one that still uses their skills in manipulating small, intricate parts. maybe repairing and replacing the small chips and processors in those very same electronics that replaced those mechanical watches they love so much.

their job pays very well, and eventually they save up quite a bit of money. they're constantly checking all sorts of places, both legal and illegal, for anything from earth. when suddenly they find it. a collection of old and "new" earth watches. most of them are broken or damaged, but with a reference now they can start making new parts. they start selling the refurbished watches to earth collectors, and they eventually make enough to start their own small business making brand new designs. it doesn't make a ton of money, but they can finally return to the thing they love, making and fixing watches.

Time Flys

Edward sighed quietly as he sat on the raised balcony, overlooking the promenade. The general buzz of the hustle and bustle was too far below him to be of bother to the human. 

It was a nice view, the end of the street opened up into the park area where rolling hills and artificial waterfalls gave an idealist appearance. Glancing up, he could see the edge of the Mar'Tor's Vow nebula slowly moving over head through the great glass dome.

The old man ached for home and sighed again.

He was getting on in his years now and he was struck with a wave of nostalgia. How he wished he could see Orion's belt from the place he remembered it from. He didn't want to *go* see Orion's Belt, he wanted to see it as he remembered it. Clear as a bell, the three bright dots that sat in the centre of a familiar constellation. His chest hurt from the memory.

"Hey Old Dog." Rumbled a firm voice from behind him, causing his heart to jump just a little. Quiet little blighter.

"Morning Young Pup." Edward growled back with a smirk on his face. The human leaned back in his chair and let his head roll to the side as the canid stalked around the seat to plonk herself down on the chair to his side.

"You're early for your ass wuppin'?" Edward teased, referencing how Snarlp had yet to beat him at Chess since he had taught her the rules. The canid solider wasn't dumb, she had even taught him a few things about bold tactics and how it was indeed possible to punch through a strong defence to put a king on the backfoot, but the canid had yet to figure out subtle tactics.

"I *will* beat you old timer. You've been winning by the fur on your nose these last few games... But... No, that can wait. I got something you might like." The youthful creature grumbled back, her firm tone like gravel in a blender. She wasn't aggressive with Edwards, well she was, but not physically. She was challenging him for his 'place' in the friendship between the two of them. Just as Edward liked it.

Honestly, it was just good fun for him, definitely kept his mind sharp. It felt like he was a captain of a pirate ship; the moment he let his guard down one of his 'salty dogs' would bloodily tear control of his ship from him; it was life and death that he kept his wits. Edwards sighed and smiled, all metaphorically of cause. Snarlp would see her arm torn off before she laid a single claw on the human, Edward knew this.

"You know I'm not interested in that VR nonsense. It was fad before and it's a fad now." He dismissed, more alarmed that Snarlp could be back on the track of trying to have Edward 'try new things'. Edward was happy in his rut. He didn't *like* the new things.

As a human, Edward was old fashioned. Back home, he'd been a watch maker. He could recall off the top of his head how to pull apart and putback together any number of models of watch. At night, to get to sleep, he would mentally repair or build watches for himself.

But alas, amongst the stars, there was no need or desire for mechanical watches. The aliens all wanted digital, with bells and whistles that no clockwork watch could match. Not to mention that Edward couldn't get the printer to work the way he wanted. He needed a scan of some kind. Snarlp had been the one to explain it to him which had broken his heart somewhat. Still, she'd meant well, and it just solidified that his generation, the first off planet, were the last humans that remembered Earth as it was. They were dying out.

"It's not 'Virtual Reality' Old Dog, it's Simulated Environments, and *no*, I'm not showing you something new. I know it'll have your heart attack you or something." The canid growled as she picked up the pitcher of water that sat on the table between them, causing the ice and strange purple fruit that floated in it to 'clink' against the glass. Edward watched her as she sniffed at it, sneered, then downed a large gulpful, straight from the pitcher. There goes having another glass of that any time soon.

Well... He'd need to go get another one anyway.

"It better be nearby. It's forty-two steps to the toilet and that's a 'tactical' decision for me these days. I ain't going on an adventure." Edward warned. The walking stick next to his chair alleviated the pains in his hips, but it still hurt something rotten. He had sworn the canid to secrecy once she had figured out that he was in agony when he walked. Edward wasn't about to let no scientist near him again. He'd let them sire countless bastards from his genetics once already and he wasn't about to let them do it a second time.

Poor things didn't even know he was their father.

"Good thing I brought it here then, isn't it?" Snarlp replied, bouncing up and out of the chair with the energy of a creature that had yet to wake up four times in one night.

"But you couldn't bring it out here?" Edward questioned, tilting his head, and narrowing his eyes.

"By the *moons* do you want your surprise or not?!" Snarlp snapped. Putting her hands on her hips and leaning forward with a glare. Despite being decades younger than him, the aura she had was of Edward's disapproving mother. The tone still made his blood run cold.

"Ugh, fine. You're getting me one of those 'bear wraps' if this isn't worth it." Edwards grumbled as he leant forward and snatched up his stick in a huff. Snarlp stepped forward and ignored the slap across her hands from Edwards as he tried to bat her away. She persisted in helping and he was grateful. Her strength was mighty, pulling him up as if he were no more than a small bag of spuds, yet she was gentle enough that not even her razor-sharp claws broke the man's thin paper-like skin.

"Firstly, it's worth it. Secondly, you *know* you're not allowed the ursidain food anymore. It'll... it's not good for you." Snarlp retorted as Edward found his feet and began to shuffle towards the building, warming up his limbs again so he could move with purpose. They both ignored the genuine tone of fear in her words.

"Bah. You sound like that fool of a guardian." He dismissed, referencing the diminutive taurian the government had assigned him. Edward had no time for that wet blanket. Everything was sniffles and 'eh hem' before the little bull spoke. It drove Edward up the wall.

"Yeah well, they've basically made me your guardian now." Snarlp admitted, much to Edwards shock, but secret elation.

"Now I *know* they want me to keel over. You might win a game then as well." He jabbed, grinning as they got to the door into the apartment.

"I could just throw you over that balcony you know?"Snarlp suggested, briefly thrusting a thumb back the way they came. Edward just chuckled while Snarlp grinned a mouth full of sharp teeth.

The pair entered Edward's apartment and in the centre was his dining table. A huge monstrosity, but necessary in the event an ursidain came to dinner. On top of the giant table however was something new. A massive metal crate. It looked like a chest, oblong in shape with a hinged lid. The red light over the lock on one side showed that it was currently sealed.

"I knew it. You don't see old folk around here because you liquidise them!" Edward hollered, trying to pull his arm from the canid's grip while staring at the box that could hold him within with ease. He didn't actually believe that, but had joked with Snarlp that, that was what they did with people who got too old and just mixed them into the food.

"Will you shut it; you stale fart! *You* don't see old people because *they* are smart and move to paradise worlds! Nobody would want you but me anyway! Now, sit down and let me open this thing!" Snarlp ordered, easily handling his little outburst and guided him to the head of the table. To be fair to the young canid, she had always had him sit in a chair of importance or priority.

He settled and eyed the box, unsure what she was about to spring on him. Snarlp ignored Edward for the moment and placed her thumb against the biometrics. The man paid attention to what was on the side of the crate, a stencilled version of the Galactic Community Administration office emblem. This crate was their property, something they loathed to give up. Edward eyed it wearily.

"I saw this going very differently, do you know how hard it was to convince them to give me this? I expected you to be like a pup getting into their first bit of trouble."

"Can you blame me? You've stuck me into firefights before!"

"In a simulated environment! You were perfectly safe."

"I got shot!"

"You should have kept your head down instead of shouting at me, not my fault a separatist sniper got you."

The lock clicked, silencing them both and the crate hissed as the lid popped open a fraction. Hermetically sealed? Whatever was inside had been sat in stasis. Snarlp lifted the lid and carefully made sure it didn't damage the table once it was fully open. From Edward's position, he couldn't see what was inside, but Snarlp reached in and gently, so gently that Edward had never seen her move with such care, plucked an item from within.

At first, the old man didn't know what he was looking at, so cradled as it was in her palms as she brought it to Edward. But as she carefully placed it on the polished table in front of him, he was struck with understanding.

The man's heartbeat in his chest at a pace not felt since he was 'shot'.

It was a small, cheap, watch.

With shaking hands, he picked it up and turned it over, to inspect the clock face. The second hand ticked by the battery life saved thanks to the stasis. According to the hands, it was 10:32.

While he was merely staring at the device, shocked to his core for seeing such an old artifact of Earth, a second one was placed in front of him by Snarlp, who merely reached for a third out of the box.

Edward stood sharply, sending the chair toppling off the raised platform that meant Edward could sit at the table at the same height as any guest. Snarlp's head whipped round but froze, her hand inches above the crate, holding a digital watch. It showed 12:32 AM.

"How many..." Edward began, unable to ask.

"Loads. It's what intake collected from whoever was rescued." The canid replied softly, aware of the significance.

"What?"

"When you humans were rescued, there wasn't really a plan. Intake was messy. Some counters collected personal items, some didn't. This box is full of those timekeepers you were on about." She explained, plucking two more from the box. It was full to the brim with watches. Just watches.

"H-how... I thought they'd all be...?"

"Sold? Yeah, most human stuff was. But this crate was labelled wrong. They think it was because whoever labelled it was going to sell it on, but chances were they were arrested before they got a chance." The canid knocked a knuckle against the foreign text on the side, next to the stencil. "Storage folk saw the label, did their job correctly and bam. A veritable Lithium Mine left to gather dust."

"I take it we can't keep these." Edward asked, turning over the first watch in his hands. Cheap, but now priceless. It did its job nearly forty years later, ticking away.

"We can't no." Snarlp agreed, and Edward's heart fell. "You can though." She finished, deliberately taking a second to complete her sentence. Edward snapped his head back up at the now grinning canid.

"You're a cruel bitch! What are you saying?!"

"These are yours now. Government can't sell them and returning human artifacts to a human is a easy win in the PR department."

Edward had to brush his sleeve against the corners of his eyes whilst sniffing, but the canid didn't jab him for his display.

"Saying they're yours... You could... scan one?" Snarlp suggested. "I can think of more than a few people on this station alone that would want a mechanical watch. You could teach me to repair them too... You said you would..."

Edward sighed and smiled, he felt like he had a purpose again.

"They're not anything fancy... you can't get VR from them like your consoles."

"Oh my *moons*!! It's not 'VR' and you can't get SE from *just* a console!"

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #canid #werewolf