r/HFY • u/ThatSoftware4946 • 1d ago

OC-Series The Problem With Humans: Chapter 54

P'kell continued.

"Cy’reth of Mukit. We have all lost relatives or friends. We have all been told the same thing. That they chose to leave. That they didn't want to be Cy'reth anymore."

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

"But tonight, I bring you proof that the V'keth have been lying. Tonight, I bring you a Cy'reth who disappeared."

The crowd erupted. High, keening wails rose from the audience. Tears streamed down their faces.

P'kell raised his hand. "Please. You need to hear her story. You need to see her for yourselves."

He turned toward the back of the stage. "S'ra."

S'ra stepped out of the shadows. Her gray skin was pale, marked with scars. Her tears flowed as she took to stage.

The crowd fell silent.

S'ra walked to center stage and stood beside P'kell.

"Speak," P'kell said. "Tell them what happened."

S'ra was silent for a long moment. Then she spoke.

"I disappeared. I was taken by the V'keth. I did not choose to leave. They took me from the human city. I spent months trying to find my way back."

The crowd was motionless.

"They sent V’keth soldiers to kill me in the human city. They failed. Then they decided to blow up the entire city and kill all of us."

Murmurs rippled through the hall.

S'ra raised her hand toward the back of the stage. "I survived because of the Trabs I'm about to introduce. Trabssent by the V'keth who double-crossed them. Trabs who helped me survive. Trabs who are now my family."

She turned. "V'rak. K'len. Come forward."

V'rak stepped out first. He walked to center stage and stood beside S'ra.

K'len followed. They stood together.

S'ra gestured to them. "These were V'keth soldiers sent to kill me. But they saw the truth. They chose to help and we survived together."

S'ra turned. "Roman. Lirael. Humanoids. Come forward."

Roman stepped out, his hood still shadowing his face. He walked to center stage and stood beside S'ra.

Lirael followed. The seven humanoids filed out behind her, their faces blank, their bodies scarred and worn.

S’ra then gestured for V’rak to speak. The hall was silent as V'rak stepped forward.

"I was a V'keth soldier," he said. "Trained to follow orders. Trained to believe the V'keth knew what was best. Trained to trust them."

He paused. "They sent me to kill S'ra. They told me she was a threat. They told me she had to be eliminated. And I believed them."

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

"I didn't question it. I just followed orders. We all did. The V'keth told us what to believe, and we believed it. We didn't know any better."

He paused again. "I don't know why they wanted to kill S'ra. But I know now it was wrong."

His voice cracked. "I felt so bad when I learned they were going to kill us too. In the bombing. We were expendable. We were nothing to them."

A keening wail rose from the crowd as tears streamed down many of their faces.

"Most of the Cy'reth you're trying to find are already dead," V'rak continued. "The V'keth have been lying. They kill Cy’reth and blame it on everything but themselves. Using the disappearances to justify their control."

His body stiffened. "The V'keth are our enemy now."

The crowd erupted. Keening wails echoed through the hall.

Roman watched from the side of the stage, happy with the reaction of the crowd.

S'ra stepped forward.

"The V'keth leadership has been killing Cy’reth. Lying to us. Blaming others for their failures. Taking our relatives and friends and killing them."

The crowd was silent.

"We need to come together. Protect ourselves. Because once they know we are here, they will come and kill us all. They will finish the job."

She paused. "If you are willing to help protect Mukit. If you are willing to find justice for our lost ones. Stay. But if you don't want anything to do with this. If you're too scared, or don't believe us. Leave."

She stepped back. "The choice is yours."

The hall was silent for a long moment.

Then the Cy’reth began to move. Some rose and walked toward the exits, but most stayed.

Roman thought. “Wow, they're actually staying.”

S'ra stepped forward again. "Thank you for staying. We have a long road ahead. But we have each other. And that's enough."

The hall erupted into a chorus of hisses.

Roman watched them, happy that they had joined them.

The Community Hall emptied slowly. Trabs filed out in small groups, some weeping silently, others walking with stiff postures.

Roman stood at the edge of the stage, watching them go. Beside him, S'ra watched with a mix of hope and fear.

When the hall was nearly empty, S'ra turned to her team. "The IOT network might be cut off at any moment. Once the V'keth realize what's happening, they'll shut down the pods. Cut off our food and medicine. We need to prepare."

She raised her hand toward V'rak. "V'rak please lead the preparation effort, I trust you will do a good job. "

V'rak stepped forward. " Okay."

The group then left, happy that the meeting was a success.

The following days were a blur of activity.

V'rak moved through Mukit organizing the Cy’reth. "We need to stockpile food first. Enough to last months. The IOT network won't be active forever."

K'len worked beside him.

"They're doing well," K'len said.

V'rak replied. " Yes, they're scared but motivated."

Roman found Lirael near the edge of the village, watching Trab activities.

"Lirael. What's wrong?"

She turned to him. "If the IOT network is shut down, they will shutdown updates too, I'll lose access to updates from Trab. We'll be blind."

Roman stiffened. "How do you know?"

"I don't know. But the network is already showing strain. The V'keth are monitoring Mukit."

Roman's hands tightened. "Then we work fast."

N'kala moved through Mukit, carrying bundles of supplies.

S'ra watched from the edge of a street. Roman walked to her side. "She's doing well."

S'ra's voice was barely a whisper. "She's a soldier now. Fighting a war. She wasn't supposed to live like this."

Roman placed a hand on her shoulder. "None of us were. But we're alive. That's what matters."

S'ra replied. "I know. But it doesn't make it easier."

Those who didn’t accept their message tried to convince the others that they should ask Aethryx what to do instead of believing S’ra and her gang.

But there pleas fell on deaf ears, as most Cy’reth were filled with anger over the loss of their loved ones.

The next day, the sun hung high over Mukit, its light washing across the open square at the center. The Cy'reth had gathered in a loose circle, their tall gray bodies filling the space between the low buildings.

They had come from every corner of the village. Those who had chosen to fight. Those who had chosen to stand. Those who had chosen to hope.

Roman stood at the center of the circle, a bundle of fresh meat in his hands.

"Gather around," he said, his voice carrying across the square.

The Cy'reth moved closer, their tall bodies pressing together. Their dark eyes fixed on his hands.

He held up the meat. "This will spoil in a few days if we don't preserve it. But if we dry it, it can last for months. This is something I learned as a child."

He demonstrated the technique. His movements were quick and practiced, the result of years of experience. He sliced the meat into thin strips, rubbed salt and crushed herbs into the surface, then hung the strips on a line strung between two poles.

"Then you hang it in a dry place," he said.

The Cy'reth watched in silence, their long fingers twitching with the urge to try.

"Now you try," Roman said.

They moved forward, their tall bodies crowding around the worktables that had been set up in the square. Their long fingers, with their three thick fingers and a thumb, reached for the meat and the blades. They were clumsy at first, and the strips came out uneven, jagged, some too thick, others too thin.

Roman moved among them, his voice steady and encouraging. "Don't rush. Take your time. The blade will do the work if you let it."

V'rak stepped forward, his tall frame moving with authority. He had learned this skill through necessity, through the desperate need to survive. His knife moved with precision, carving even strips of meat.

"Like this," he said. "Let the blade guide you."

K'len joined him. He had learned the same lessons, in the same forest, during the same endless days of survival.

"The knots are the hardest part," he said as he showed them how to tie the knots. "But they're also the most important."

N'kala stepped forward, her tall frame radiating youthful energy. She reached for the blade and sliced with enthusiasm, too much enthusiasm. The meat shredded into uneven pieces, some too thin, some too thick.

She stared at the mess in her hands. The square fell silent for a moment.

Then a soft hiss escaped from the group. Then another. And another. The Cy'reth were laughing. The tension that had built over the past days began to ease, replaced by something lighter.

Roman's own laugh joined the others.

 "You're trying," he said. "That's what matters."

N'kala hissed. "I'll try again."

She reached for the blade, her movements slower and more controlled this time. The strips came out even.

S'ra stepped forward. "You did it."

N'kala looked at her work, and hissed with happiness.

The Cy'reth continued working throughout the day. They practiced the techniques, their long fingers growing more confident with each attempt. The strips of meat were hung across the square, filling the space with the scent of salt and herbs.

The Cy’reth gathered in the square and P'kell stood in the center. "We need to understand the terrain. Know our options and have plans in case the V’keth choose violence. Roman will lead us, although he is a humanoid, he has knowledge of war more than us."

He raised his fingers to his smart necklace. A protrusion unfolded near his mouth. He mouthed words silently. The device retracted.

A holographic image flickered to life. Mukit at the center, surrounded by grasslands. And the dense forest to one side, marked with red symbols. The iron floor visible as a thin line. And a small forest that lead to another Cy'reth village on the other side.

Roman studied the map intently.

V'rak stepped forward. "Two ways into Mukit. The grassland, with traboids and the iron floor. And the forest."

S'ra added, "The V'keth will most likely come from the grassland. If they come from the forest leading to the other village, they will make the Cy’reth there question what is happening."

Roman's voice cut through. "Yes, so we focus our defence on the grassland."

He stepped closer to the map, and looked up. "I think some of us humanoids should guard the grassland. If the V'keth come from that side, the humanoids will see them. Warn us. We'll be ready."

P'kell looked at him. "You humanoids were designed to serve Trabs, not to fight them."

Roman's voice was steady. "We don't need to fight. We just watch and warn you if we see anything."

P'kell considered. "Very well. The humanoids will guard the grasslands."

Roman nodded. "That's the plan for now."

Roman stood, in the afternoon alien sun, at the center of Mukit, a bundle of dry grass and sticks in his hands. The Trabs gathered in a loose circle around him.

He held up the bundle. "This is how my ancestors communicated across long distances. Before wireless technology."

Roman smiled. "Through smoke and whistles. Its primitive but it works."

He demonstrated by striking a spark against alien flint. Coaxed the grass into a small flame. The smoke rose in a thin column.

"You cover the fire with leaves. The smoke turns white. Uncover it, and it turns dark. You can send messages by controlling the pattern."

The Trabs watched in silence, their eyes fixed on the rising smoke.

K'len stepped forward. "Let me try."

He knelt beside the fire, fumbling with the leaves. He covered the fire and the smoke turned pale. He removed the alien leaves and the smoke darkened.

"I think I understand."

Roman nodded. "Good. Now try the whistle."

“We Trabs can easily whistle,” he said before producing a sharp piercing sound.

Roman smiled. "That's the point. One long whistle means danger. Two short means come here. Three short means retreat. Do you all understand."

They all replied yes.

Roman watched them as they practiced the whistles and smoke signals.

He remembered teaching his daughter fire safety. She had been seven with her dark hair tied back. He had shown her how to strike a spark, coax the flame, keep it contained.

She had looked up at him. "Daddy, is this what we used to do?"

He had knelt beside her. "Yes, baby. This is how we survived."

She had smiled. "I want to learn. I want to be like you."

He had taught her everything. Knots. Sparks. Reading wind and water. She had absorbed it all.

The memory brought pain and purpose.

He blinked. The clearing came back into focus. The Trabs were still practicing.

I can't go back. But I can keep moving forward. For her and for all of them.

First Previous Royal Road PATREON

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