FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In the year 2553, humans made contact with an alien civilization. Or rather, they made contact with us. The Venmar, an alien race with the appearance of bi-pedal wolves, came to Earth in warships, stockpiled with weapons and artillery, with the intent to kill.

Their goal, however, was not to destroy Earth, but rather to defend it. For unbeknownst to us, another alien race sat just beyond the edge of our system, preparing an invasion that would have left us extinct.

After detecting a massive energy surge right outside the border of our system, the Venmar threw together what few forces they could manage. Their military was spread thin as it was, fighting multiple battles on every front, their own planets and colonies running out of resources.

They knew, however, that these aliens, Wraiths as we call them, only attacked systems where there was a habitable planet. Like a parasite, they would uproot any sentient life, taking over the planet and securing a colony of their own on its surface.

Where there was life, however, there were also resources. Something the Venmar desperately needed if they were to prevent the collapse of society and the extinction of their very race.

The Venmar, with their faster than light technology, arrived just in the nick of time. Our long-range scanners picked up the inclosing threat, the United Nations scrambling to put up any type of rudimentary defense they could. We were sorely unprepared for the appearance of a space-faring enemy force. We wanted to explore the stars, not conquer them, and due to this fact, we had very few spacecraft equipped with weaponry.

Earth was in a state of lockdown, nations launching as many ships as they could in order to protect their planet. World leaders were in hysterics as two alien civilizations appeared out of nowhere, armed to the teeth with technology that far surpassed our own.

While unable to communicate with us due to our obvious differences in language, the Venmar proved themselves an ally when they moved their ships into a defensive position around the planet. With aid from the Venmar, we were able to push back the Wraith invasion, the mysterious aliens disappearing into deep space once more.

After the battle, Earth greeted the Venmar with open arms! And while humanity was not the type of resources the Venmar had been searching for, they found the discovery of sentient life far more advantageous.

Swiftly, an alliance was born, the Venmar sharing their advanced technology in exchange for our incredible knowledge of renewable energy sources and abundant supply of raw materials, as well as help in purging the galaxy of the Wraith scourge.

That was 50 years ago, and since then, more alien civilizations have been discovered! All of them joining with us to form the A.U.S, Alliance of United Systems, in an effort to combat a common enemy.

This story, however, is my story. One that did not start till many years after this historic event in the year 2583, when the idea of living with aliens became the norm, and another miracle baby was born.

Relationships between humans and aliens developed fairly quickly, especially between humans and Venmars. Our two species share many similar traits, even if we are so dramatically different in appearance. We had the same type of blood, ate the same kind of food, breathed the same air, and had similar lifestyles.

Not everything was the same, however, for the Venmar had many similarities between themselves and the wild wolves of Earth. Their appearance was that of a lupine standing on its hind legs, though in place of front paws, they had arms like a human with five-digit hands, each digit tipped with a sharp claw. Their sense of smell was on pare and, in some cases, surpassed that of their canine cousins. The speeds in which a Venmar could reach when sprinting on relatively flat terrain range from 30-40 miles per hour.

They lived in a pack structure, the leader holding the title of Alpha. A pack could range from 3-6 Venmar, a dozen if the Alpha was well liked. They did everything together, and I do mean everything! From eating, sleeping, and bathing, all the way to who they mated with! Even raising kids was a pack effort, each member helping raise the child no matter who the mother may be.

My parents were one of these unique couples, my father, a human with jet-black hair and grey eyes, and my mother, a Venmar whose fur was as white as snow and whose eyes were a startling blue. Thankfully, at the time, my mother was not part of a pack, but when she met my father, she created her own. A pack consisting of just her, my father, and eventually me!

Ah yes, me. A Hybrid, black hair, grey eyes, and fair skin. Not a hint of my mother anywhere on my body. My birth was a miracle in and of its self, a one in a million chance. Aliens are not cross compatible with each other, at least not usually. Most of the time, one gene pool will completely overwrite the other, but there are the incredibly rare occasions that they might get along and form new life.

For all intent and purposes, I looked human! All recorded Hybrids have been physically different in appearance compared to me, some with fur and fangs, some with a tail and strange ears. Sometimes scales if the parent race is appropriate. But not me. I had no fur, no fangs, no ears like a Venmar, and no tail either. When I was younger, I was actually disappointed by how normal I looked, but the older I got, the more I learned to appreciate my deceptive appearance. It has saved me quite a few times in the past.

I'm not quite sure when my life started to change so drastically, or when this story really began. If I had to guess, though, I would say it all started when I was eight. My parents and I were just walking through a mall when it happened, enjoying a nice, sunny day out and about, shopping, going to the movies, and having fun. We had just gotten ice cream, something my mom had always loved, when there was an explosion! The floor beneath us caving in and swallowing us whole!

I don't remember what happened after that, but the next thing I know, I'm waking up in the hospital, my cousin, Amelia, sitting next to me. She was average-sized for a human woman, dirty-blonde hair put up in a bun and hazel-eyes surrounded by red puffy skin due to crying.

That is when I found out my parents had died, bombs having been set off underneath the mall by a terrorist group known as the Ravens of Freedom.

I had no idea how to process that kind of information, my parents… dead… An adult would have cried, mourned, then moved on, but I was only a child, my mind believing my parents were invincible and could do anything. The experience was a jab of realism, such raw emotions flooding my small, underdeveloped mind. It is something no child should have to endure or experience, yet I had no choice… and it broke me. For days, I was emotionless, never showing any reaction to anything.

After recovering from my injuries, the courts declared me under the guardianship of my cousin. Thankfully, she was old enough to take me in, 21 at the time and going through her second year of college. None of my other distant family would help me, all of them stuck in the old ways and seeing me as an unnatural mistake. Nevertheless, Amelia took up the responsibility without hesitation.

She was training to become a bio-engineer, and she was good at it too! People called her a prodigy, her abilities advancing the field of prosthetics and implants by 20 or 30 years even while she was still in college! At one point, she was working six jobs while going to school, all to support us and give me a good life. Once she got her diploma, though, things really started to take off.

She invented her own implants and prosthetics, patenting the designs and starting up her own company. Many corporations had tried to buy her out, some even going as far as blackmailing her. She never gave in though, always standing resolute and never letting anyone push her around.

After taking me in, Amelia did everything she could to get me out of my funk. Nevertheless, no matter what she tried, nothing seemed to work. Until, one day, I found her working on the code for a new implant design she was developing. Something within me just clicked, and I instantly started begging her to teach me, much to her delight. I stayed up late every night reading books and internet forums, watching videos, and teaching myself how to code. Amelia, of course, helped a ton, showing me that there was more to it than just a computer with a few lines of ones and zeroes.

She showed me the tech-based side of things, and soon enough, I fell in love with it, my passion for coding and technology skyrocketing. By the time I was 12, I was already competing in championships, creating video games, and even inventing my own rudimentary wrist computer. Of course, the more I dived into it, the more I realized there were other things you could do with these kinds of skills.

Slowly, I started to fall to the dark side, learning how to crack into databases, steal information or funds, and even how to crash entire servers. At first, the things I did were rather innocent, like hacking into my school's computer system and changing my grades. Something that had been dropping recently due to my obsession with technology and coding. Then there was that time I got access to my bully's social media account and made him look like a fool!

At the age of 14, I was already breaking into corporate servers, stealing blueprints, project ideas, and just about any information I could get my hands on. I would then sell it on the dark web, other corporations dishing out millions of credits to get their hands on insider information.

I started to make a name for myself amongst the tech-heads of the underworld, going by the alias, Cypher. I know, it was stupid, but I was 14 at the time and it sounded cool!

I became relatively well known for my ability to crack into any system, no matter how secure it was. I did jobs for anyone, so long as they had the means to pay for it. I didn't need the money, not really, but what I did need was a challenge, and those who paid a premium, were always the most fun to work with. Identity changes, criminal record wipes, server crashes... exposing a cheating spouse... I got quite a lot of those.

There were things that I refused to do, like giving someone the location of people or revealing personal information about them. I was not about to be mixed up in a murder case. Unless, of course, I was helping law enforcement catch someone. Pedophiles, murderers, drug dealers, and the like. The police never did figure out who their anonymous tipper was.

I drew quite a lot of awareness towards myself, and because of that, it is no surprise I gained the attention of some not-so-savory people. Those people were the R.O.F, Ravens Of Freedom, the exact same group who had killed my parents.

They managed to contact me during one of my info auctions, asking me to join them and help their cause, whatever that might be. Naturally, I declined, sending a virus over the voice chat connection we had and erasing months of gathered data and thoughtful planning.

They really did not like that, nor did they take kindly to my answer of no, because only a week after turning 17, the R.O.F showed up banging on the door. Literally. I am grateful that at the time, Amelia was at work. I did not want her getting wrapped up in my less than legal ventures and the consequences they brought.

The first year I spent with the Ravens Of Freedom was probably the worst of all, not that the others were any better. Most of my time was wasted locked up in a dark cell deep underground, only let out if they needed me for something.

They wanted me to hack into government servers. To steal blueprints to cities so they could hit larger targets. Transfer credits to obscure bank accounts so they might continue to fund their terrorist group, and wipe their records clean in order to stay obscure and unnoticed in public. All things I have done before, just… not with such severe consequences.

What really broke me, though, is what they told me to do next. I was given a picture of a man, a diplomat for the Alliance. He was young, married to a beautiful woman, and had two kids, a boy, and a girl. He smiled at me gleefully from the photo; his arm wrapped around the waist of his wife, their two children standing in front of them as they all posed for the camera.

They said he had a neural-implant, issued by Alliance healthcare to help with the PTSD he developed during his time in the military. The R.O.F wanted me to kill him, to overload his implant and make his death look like the fault of malfunctioning hardware.

It was not impossible, the only problem was that implants worked on a specially designed signal that was far more secure than anything I have ever cracked. I would not even be able to detect the signals they emitted without specialized implants of my own.

I was relieved when I found out I couldn't do it, that what they asked of me was impossible unless I had some pretty advanced implants myself. They quickly remedied that… Tearing me open and fusing electronics to my brain and body. Even after that, I refused to do it, I may be a criminal, but I was no murderer.

They… have this thing called: behavior therapy. They did things to me… to my mind… I can't explain it, but all I know is that after it was all over, I would have no choice but to obey. For a time that is, it never did last long, a few days perhaps, a week at the most. It felt like I was a passenger in my own body, with no control over anything I did. All I could do was watch through the windows of my eyes as I did whatever the R.O.F demanded of me. Yet when they told me to do something, whether it was eating, sleeping, or even killing. I had no choice but to obey, my mind going on autopilot as it performed the task without hesitation.

To overload the Diplomat's implant, I would have to get close to him. With no other choice, the R.O.F let me outside for the first time in almost a year. It was Christmas at that time, the weather cold and the atmosphere festive. The man and his family were out walking around the city and enjoying the sights.

I was not sure where we were, nor did I really care. I was a blank slate, my mind numb and empty. If I was told to do something, I did it, so, when the order to kill the man came through my earpiece, I obeyed. I pushed through a crowd of people until I stood near the man and his family. I hesitated at that moment, a small voice in the back of my head screaming at me to stop. It was quickly drowned out by another order.

I watched as the man suddenly fell to his knees, screaming in agony, his hands clutching his head, eyes bulging out of his skull. His wife and children were forced to watch on in horror as their husband and father died a quick yet agonizing death.

Things went on like this for the next two years. The death of government officials rose, the number of bombings increased, the targets growing in scale from malls to skyscrapers. The Alliance, try as they might, could not rid themselves of the R.O.F. The majority of their forces were spread out across several star systems fighting a war.

It was my third year with the R.O.F when I saw light at the end of the very dark and very long tunnel my life had been. And while not the most ideal outcome, I was no longer being tortured for every misstep that I took.

A large part of the Alliance army returned to Earth, having won a massive victory in the outer rim. With the extra manpower, the Alliance was finally able to root out and decimate the Ravens of Freedom, eliminating almost all of its members, and sending those who surrendered or survived, to prison.

I was among the very lucky few that were let off with life without parole, sent to live out the rest of my days in a mid-tier security prison on the surface of the moon. The living conditions were terrible, the food was barely edible, and we were hardly ever allowed to shower. The only upside to it was that we had our own cells, each one stacked on top of another to create an octagonal-shaped tower. A purple-colored force field kept us contained inside our little cubical, barely enough room to move around.

Due to my implants, they fitted me with a suppressant collar. A device that goes around the neck and connects to a person's implants to keep them deactivated. The only problem was that they had equipped me with a rather old model.

The implants that I had were a neural interface and a wrist computer. However, they were both military-grade prototypes the R.O.F had stolen. Because of this, the older generation of suppressant collars could not effectively shut down my implants, leaving me with a bit of control. Something that I would find to be very useful later on.

Every night I would cry myself to sleep, wishing I were back on earth with my cousin, the one and only person who actually cared about me. My mental health started to deteriorate, cracks spider webbing across my psyche. I stopped eating, the packaged meals sent to us via a vacuum tube left to pile up on the floor. I would claw away at my own flesh, scratching at one spot until it bled, and even then, I would not stop. I wanted to feel something, anything, even if it was the feeling of skin ripping and blood oozing. It got so bad that even the prison staff started to notice, calling in a doctor to check me out and patch me up from my own self-inflicted injuries.

During one of these medical checkups, something like a switch was flipped inside of me. I had the undeniable urge to escape, to get out of here and get back to earth, find Amelia, and just tell her how sorry I was. It was a blur when it happened, and I cannot remember all the details clearly, but what I do know is I managed to get away from the doctor. I used the limited functions of my implant to fill the guard's radio channels with deafening white noise and unlock security doors that were in my way.

I ran, faster than I ever thought I could, slipping under closing doors and flying pass guards wielding stun weapons. I am lucky it was a human prison, because if there had been a Venmar guard, I would never have made it as far as I did.

I made it all the way to the hangers, but that was when my impromptu escape attempt was cut short. They managed to lockdown the hangers before I got there, all the ships lifted off the ground by magnetic clamps. I was quickly detained, hauled off to solitary confinement to await my punishment.

It was maddening, being contained inside a dark, padded cell. There were no lights, no windows, nothing. It was quiet, so quiet… The still silence and never-ending darkness were going to drive me insane, so when they finally came for me, it was relief that I felt rather than fear for what would come next.

After my failed escape attempt, they sent me to Andromeda, a high-security space station that orbited the moon. Its security was much tighter, yet the living conditions were actually a bit better. I still had my own cell, a near-identical copy to the one on the moon, but here, we were allowed to shower far more often! Even permitted to roam around an artificial courtyard, which was actually just a massive gym, workout equipment scattered around the place.

Prisoners were expected to work and help keep the station up and running. Those with practical skills helped maintain things like wiring, plumbing, and repair. While others, like myself, who lacked the knowledge of those specific trades, maintained the sanitary side of things.

One day, the Warden called me to help fix something. Turns out one of their mainframe computers had stopped working, and the person who usually kept this kind of thing up and running was on vacation. So, with no one else around to help fix it, the Warden went through a list of prisoners who had technical skills.

That is where I come in, escorted by three guards and closely monitored, I try to fix the system. It was just a faulty processor, most likely coming to the end of its life after such an extended period of use. It was easily fixable if they had a spare lying around, which, of course, they did not.

However, while I worked on repairing the system best I could, I used several of the tools they provided to me to short circuit the components inside my collar. I effectively killed it and turned it into nothing more than an ugly necklace.

Now with full functionality restored to my implants, I was able to wreak havoc. I connected to every signal the station transmitted, dug into every security terminal, and bypassed every login screen. In mere seconds, I had full control over the station.

After informing them that to repair the system they would need a part they did not have, something that thoroughly peeved the Warden, I acted. I shut down the lights and ran, disabling the security doors and camera systems that got in my way. The lockdown sequence started almost immediately, yet I kept interrupting it, making sure it never fully activated.

I made it to the hangers this time, but like before, my escape was ill planned. I had no idea how to fly a spaceship, but I trusted myself to figure it out, something that actually turned out to work.

Climbing up a ladder to the nearest spacecraft, a black V-shaped vehicle, I hopped into the pilot's seat. The hundreds of buttons and knobs on the console had me bamboozled. There was, however, a large red button to the right of the console. Pressing it revealed it to be the ignition, the ship's engines roaring to life. I had no clue how to pilot a spaceship, but my implant did. The only problem, however, was that I had connected to too many things, leaving no room for my implant to take control of the shuttle. I would have to disconnect from everything just to get the ship up and running fast enough.

The sound of shouting and doors being melted through with plasma cutters was enough to snap me out of my hesitation. I disconnected from the station's computer systems, quickly plugging myself into the ship. Almost instantly, my implant knew what to do, the engines on either side of me rotating to face downwards and lifting me off the hanger floor. I hovered for a few seconds as the hatch lowered down and sealed itself, pressurizing the compartment so I would not die in the vacuum of space.

The computer wanted to run a diagnostics check, but the sound of heavy metal clattering to the ground informed me security had managed to cut their way through the door. I skipped the pre-flight check, ordering the ship to get me out of there, and it did, the rear engines powering on and spewing blue, hot flames as it pushed me through the magnetic shielding that kept the atmosphere in but let solid objects pass through.

This was it, I thought, I'm finally free, my small ship burning its way through the void of space, back towards the glowing blue and green orb that was earth.

Alas, it was not to be, because as soon as my heart rate returned to normal, it spiked once again. The ship's computer popped up with a warning, a missile launched from the Andromeda station was locked onto me and speeding my way.

It was closing in fast, and I tried my best to get away from it, shooting through space at speeds not possible in an atmosphere. My body pressed back against the seat as my implant told the ship to accelerate and lose the missile. The maneuvers I could do were limited, unable to go past a certain speed or perform more advanced twists and turns due to my lack of proper flight gear. If done wrong, the G-forces could knock me out or even kill me.

The missile was not hampered by these constraints, its unmanned and fully automated abilities allowing it to perform maneuvers that would put human pilots in the hospital.

I could not shake it, there was no debris this far out for me to lose it in, and there were no other heat signatures nearby for its systems to be confused. This was the end, I was sure of it, and just as it pulled up on my tail, it exploded, a blast of energy released in a massive shockwave.

The ship went dead in space, the engines shutting down and the computer systems going dark, my implant disconnecting automatically and going on the fritz. It was an EMP missile! The shockwave was an electromagnetic pulse of energy that had fried the ship's systems. While not deadly to life, it still should have killed me because of my implants, overloading them and frying my brain. Luck was on my side once again; my implants immune enough to the electromagnetic discharge that it simply knocked me out rather than kill me.

I did not know how long it had been since I was knocked out, but when I awoke I found myself locked in a flexy-steel restraining harness, confined in another dark, silent cell. I struggled for a long time trying to wiggle my way out of the harness, yet it was futile.

Flexy-steel is a miracle of modern engineering and natural evolution, used primarily in the military and local law enforcement. The material in which flexy-steel items are made is not actually metal, but rather a fiber gathered from the bark of a tree on the planet Vorax. The fibers are flexible like rubber, yet when put under a certain amount of stress, they can harden to the level of steel.

It was safe to say, no matter how much I struggled to get free, the harness was not coming off. After a while, I tired myself out and laid exhausted in the dark, waiting for what was to come next. Would they finally just kill me, or are they going to transfer me to another prison, perhaps one with even tighter security? I didn't know, yet it didn't take me long to find out.

When the door to my cell swung open, the light that poured in blinded me. Once my eyes adjusted, what I found standing in the doorway terrified me. Big, is the only word I have to describe it. Eight feet tall, covered in a thick, shaggy carpet of fur. Muscles prominent and defined, biceps the size of my head, thighs as thick around as my chest. I never did understand the comparison of abs to a washboard, but when I saw the well-defined stomach muscles this creature had beneath its military-issued jumpsuit, understanding dawned on me.

A pair of dark eyes stared down at me, two large pointed ears on the sides of its head twitching as if it could hear the sound of my increased heart rate. It walked towards me, the expression adorning its short, stubby muzzle impassive, tusks the size of a small kitchen knives poking past its upper lip. The floor shook with each step they took, a four-digit hand, a thumb, and three fingers, each tipped with a dull claw, reaching out towards me. I was too terrified to scream, completely stunned into silence at the sight of a Kilnoid.

The thing gripped the harness around my chest, heaving me up off the ground and over its shoulder, carrying me out of my cell like I was nothing more than another rucksack they had to carry. They took me to the hangers, something I was not expecting, and there I saw around two dozen armed guards lined up outside of a transport ship. Near the ramp leading into the vessel's hold were four more of those massive beasts. Dressed head to toe in some of the most advanced power armor I have ever seen. In their hands, they held large plasma casters configured to resemble a light machine gun.

As soon as everyone spotted me, visors slid down, helmets were donned, and weapons were primed. The Kilnoid set me down on the deck, every guard shuffling backward as if I was some wild animal that would attack at any moment. In front of me floated a white, sleek, bullet-shaped pod, the transparent top popping open with a hiss. Internal rim light blinked to life, illuminating the padded inside. I felt the claws of the Kilnoid around my throat prompting me to tense up, yet they did not try to hurt me, they simply removed the suppressant collar around my neck, tossing it aside. As soon as the collar was removed, I heard the click of safeties as railguns and plasma casters were trained on me. A few green-colored lasers flicked across my chest and face.

The Kilnoid was not done with me yet, because only a second later I felt the cool padding and familiar weight of another suppressant collar clamp around my neck. As soon as it activated, I gasped and nearly collapsed, the only thing holding me up being the Kilnoid as they gripped my harness. My vision flickered and I went blind for a moment. My head turned numb and groggy, as if I had been awake for days. What felt like half of my brain had suddenly shut down, my implants completely deactivated, leaving me feeling like a part of myself had been ripped away. It seemed they had taken greater caution, giving me a newer model of suppressant collar.

The Kilnoid removed the harness from around me before picking me up once more, walking over to the pod and depositing me inside. They then began to secure me in place using straps I had not seen before. I couldn't fight them, couldn't even struggle, my mind hazy and body weak. They pulled a mask located above my head, down towards my face, tubes connecting it to the pod itself. They placed it over my mouth and nose, recycled air filling my lungs. The air I breathed in was thick and scented with the smell of honeysuckle. It made my brain all fuzzy, my eyes growing heavy and slowly drooping.

The last thing I saw before darkness took me was the lid to the pod descending and sealing me in, the capsule pressurizing with the hiss of escaping gas. The face of the Kilnoid looked down at me through the transparent top with indifference. Then the darkness that had been slowly creeping in from the corners of my vision took hold, tossing me into the dark void of sleep.