THE STONE WOLVES (GFL Novella VI) | Ep. 24

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Welcome to the serialized audiobook,

The Stone Wolds, season 11 of the Galactic Football League series,

written by Scott Siggler and JC Hutchins, performed by Scott Siggler.

The Stone Wolds is also available as an e-book

and is an ad-free, unabridged audiobook.

For links to purchase any version,

visit scotsiggler.com slash the dash stone dash rolls.

Or find it at scotsiggler.com slash books.

Chapter 19 Skinless

With punch space came isolation and safety,

at least for a little while.

Aya had just been in her third ship to ship battle.

The odds of surviving even one of those were not great.

She knew those odds because she calculated them many times

for the Fafner project.

And now she'd been in three.

How much longer could her luck hold out?

Long enough. It had to.

She sat in her chair in the rumpus room drinking one of Skipper's beers.

He was in his recliner, slumped there as if he were drunk,

although Aya knew he hadn't consumed a drop.

He had a fresh nanocyte bandage on his head.

He was very quiet, just staring out, and nothing.

The battle had affected him far worse than those before.

Why?

Goldman was on the couch, sitting the left of beans

who was working on a portable holotank

perched on the battered orange coffee table.

The Sklorno's chest tentacles whipped through the interface,

moving icons and manipulating data faster than Aya could track.

Viden, the crazy hurrah, and Aya wasn't really sure

how crazy Viden was anymore, floated at beans' right.

All three of them seemed excited, animated, agitated.

Zan was there as well.

The new Zan, in the shiny form,

a fanaca's former watchbot.

With her flying Schmeck destroyed,

and her walking Schmeck damaged,

the unit formerly known as Peaches provided her mobility.

Beans had applied strips of speaker film

to the battered round shell.

Zan must have had a collection of small stuffed animals

in her hold, because the four-legged watchbot,

now had a severed, Googly-eyed stuffed squirrel,

for a head.

During the evacuation from Diana Zero,

Zan had been willing to abandon her beloved walking Schmeck.

With both ships tethered together in punch space,

another thing that wasn't supposed to be possible,

but I was growing used to beans doing the impossible.

Goldman had dragged the Schmeck back to Beans' workshop.

The little guy would fix Zan Schmeck.

Sometime after he finished going over the data,

Viden had drawn from Goldman's DNA.

Aya coughed,

winsed from the pain in her chest and throat.

She was already feeling better.

It could have been so much worse,

although her mouth felt like she'd lick the bottom of an ass tray,

which was nasty.

It's a big being said.

Really, really a big.

His words drew her attention,

and skippers as well.

The grizzolole man blanked back to awareness.

With a haunting stare, he looked at Goldman, Beans, and Viden.

If it's big, Skipper said,

then we can inform the League or the Union.

Have them take it out.

Goldman shook his head,

slightly.

As one might do when a loved one says something stupid,

but it was Beans, who answered.

Not the bomb itself, Skipper.

Nope, nope.

I'm talking about the energy involved.

It's weird,

weird energy,

and it's a lot.

I can only make out a little bit of what I see,

but this,

to tech,

isn't like anything I've ever seen.

Considering the things Beans had created,

that was saying something.

Big enough to blow up a planet,

I said.

That big?

All four of Beans' eye stocks,

angled toward the portable holo tank.

He was usually fast with answers,

but not this time.

I believe it's the opposite of that.

He said,

this device negates energy,

takes a lot of it,

and turns it into a lot less.

Yep, yep.

I eroded her throat.

The first law of thermodynamics

stated that destroying energy was impossible,

but,

well,

was there any point going on and on about Beans

and impossibility?

So it's an energy changer,

Skipper said.

If the cruncher is a planet killer,

Beans,

what does it actually do to the planet?

The score knows four eyes blinked rapidly,

almost comically.

I don't know,

he said.

There's not enough data here.

We need to get more data.

Goldman stood.

There isn't time.

We'll be at MT734 in five hours.

Skipper rubbed at his face.

I heard the hiss of callous skin on stubble.

The Ponsky's knew we were going to Rurgurk,

he said,

because Thorn told them,

we need to figure out how Thorn knew where we were going.

We'll address that in a moment.

For now,

we need to figure out who we're going to tell about this.

We have the data.

Who do we give it to,

so this cruncher gets dealt with?

Goldman started to speak,

coughed,

winced.

He cleared this throat.

We don't have time to go over this again,

he said.

The Vermada are too embedded.

If we send this data anywhere,

Vermada agents will hear about it,

and they'll tell Thorn to bug out.

We have one chance to catch him and shut this thing down.

Attack.

Skipper shook his head.

The Vermada doesn't control entire government's red.

You think if we notify the league,

the union and the accord that what they'll ignore it?

Don't bury your head in the sand,

Goldman said.

MT734 is a demilitarized zone,

which means to build anything there.

You need approval from all three governments.

Imagine the red tape.

No, the Vermada doesn't control entire governments,

but they clearly have enough pull

to bribe the right sentience who deal with that planet.

If we put out the alert,

who do you think that alert will be routed to first?

Undoubtedly,

some of the same sentience

who let Demisean Laboratories

build their facility there in the first place.

Skipper stared at Goldman,

then off into space again.

I spoke her words cracking from the abused throat.

Screw the corrupt governments,

she said.

I can send out the info

as a rarer-avis-radcast.

This stuff is right up my freak's alley.

I can package up what we know about the Vermada,

the ebernacea, the cruncher,

thorn, the data we have on the bomb's tech

and send it wide.

All of it.

Goldman looked at her with those kind eyes of his.

I had a hunch the man was a wonderful father.

That's an even worse idea than going direct, he said.

Your freaks have talked about the ebernacea already, have they not?

I instantly saw where he was going,

understood the idiocy of restatement.

Yeah, she said.

Along with hundreds of other conspiracy theories,

what I send out might make a difference in the long run,

but in the short term,

there will be just another signal lost in the noise.

The bleach white man nodded,

again faced skipper.

We know where Thorn's base is,

Goldman said.

We know the number of staff he has,

the sensor and security tech.

We can plan our assault

before we reach empty 734

and go straight in.

We will get there before any message

from the pon skis that we escaped can reach him.

We have one shot, this shot,

to hit his base before he can vacate

or before he can call in reinforcements.

If Thorn got the bomb off the planet,

would there be any way to find it?

I could put the word out to her freaks, maybe.

Maybe with the data beans had,

there was a way to detect the things,

but wasn't it better to destroy the cruncher now

if it all possible?

It is not that easy,

he didn't say.

There is a note in the intel

that the facility may have cover

for mercenaries flying around fight a craft.

Goldman's face wrinkled,

he didn't like that news.

But the planet is demilitarized,

he said.

They couldn't have fight a craft at the facility,

and getting a facility permit is one thing,

but no way could they station a warship in orbit

if they even had one,

and his voice trailed off.

His eyes narrowed and thought.

In 84, the touchback went to y'all, he said.

We were going to the really view

for the galaxy ball between the dreadnoughts and the jacks.

When we punched out,

we were attacked by four Isaacs.

The vermada was trying to kill me,

and was willing to blow up a GFL team bus to do it.

Isaacs, ISACs.

Military speak for individual,

sentient attack craft,

meaning fighters.

Goldman glanced at Killian.

Quinn Barnes helped ward off that attack,

Goldman said.

He never trained on shipweapons,

but he manned an anti-spacecraft battery

where one of his teammates had died minutes earlier.

Without Quinn's bravery and natural ability,

the touchback would have probably been destroyed

with all hands aboard.

Skipper's eyes widened.

He smiled slightly.

Did he look?

Proud?

And why had Goldman told him that story?

It could be a pocket carrier.

Said Zan squirrel's peaches.

I had done radcasts and rumors of missing warships,

ones that had been boarded by waves of Cretarockians.

The batsman tactic was to launch more boarding vessels

than a defending ship could shoot down.

Once a single Cretarockianship reached the hull,

a thousand intropic rifle-carrying bats

would swarm the corridors.

There was a hurrah pocket carrier,

the skinless, lost in the takeover

during the Battle of Sada,

the bats boarded it, tried to capture it.

Legend has it that the commander of the skinless

opened all external hatches

and sent the ship plunging into the lower atmosphere,

hoping air pressure and gases toxic to Cretarockians

could kill all the bats.

Supposedly, the ship went too deep and was destroyed,

but the wreckage was never found.

One of Beans' eye-stocks glanced at Aya.

Carriers are big, huge.

He said, if the Vermont had one,

how could they keep that secret all this time?

Not a capital-class carrier, Skipper said.

A pocket carrier.

They're not that much bigger than the Oleron.

Instead of Isaac's another craft residing inside,

they dock on the outside.

Golden and lean back on the couch,

stared up at the ceiling.

I remember hurrah pocket carriers,

he said.

They usually had four Isaacs

with two landing craft

that could each carry a platoon of Marines and supplies.

Pocket carriers were supposed to let hurrah react

quickly to small skirmishes

or deliver supplies to ground forces

in contested areas.

He remembered those.

That was a weird thing to say about a ship class

that hadn't been produced since a decade

before he was born.

MT734 is demilitarized, I said.

How could the Vermonta get away

with having a carrier there,

even a tiny one?

There's nothing on the surface of that planet,

but that doesn't stop rich tourists

from visiting just to say they've been there.

Someone would report it.

Only if they see it,

Zan said.

While I may be the best in the galaxy

and wrapping a ship with a false ID,

I am not the only sentient

that can do it.

From any distance,

a tourist ship would detect the ID

of another tourist ship

and nothing more than that.

If this is the same ship

that attacked the touchback off of y'all

and it was not detected there,

then the Vermonta has access

to sentience with skills similar to mine.

With the much smaller amount of traffic

around MT734,

it is logical

the Vermonta could move the ship

in for specific periods of time.

It could not be there permanently,

but it could come and go

and stay relatively undetected.

If the Olerun could pull off a stunt like that,

why couldn't some other ship?

Even a shucking antique warship.

More reasons we can't do this, Skipper said.

The Olerun could barely handle

three combat modified light haulers

for actual fightercraft.

We'd have no chance.

We're not equipped for that.

Golden and set up.

We have to find a way.

You saw the personnel list.

52 staff, plus thorn,

plus only five actual train guards.

Knowing the layout,

we could take that place

with just me,

killer, and lulls.

You're not going alone,

Bean said.

I will fight alongside his milkiness,

and I am just the schmeck to do it.

Golden held out a hand,

palm facing beans.

Beans lifted a tentacle,

slapped it against the humans' palm.

A high five.

Really?

How naider?

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While the op didn't sound easy,

it certainly didn't sound difficult.

At least not difficult enough considering the stakes.

If the vermata are so powerful and rich,

I said, why would they put all their eggs

in this one small, basically unprotected,

very remote basket?

Couldn't they afford to build some

Apex hidden base or something?

Put their bomb factory inside a ship?

Beans twitch to an ice dog her way.

I can't, this is a state for sure.

But I believe this bombing thingy

has to be assembled in full planetary gravity.

Artificial grab probably wouldn't let them calibrate it correctly.

It may even require a huge mass in order to operate,

just like a punch drive does.

That made sense in a way.

Artificial gravity was great for keeping feet on floors,

but it was a smaller, localized force,

almost a loophole in physics.

It wasn't the same thing as real gravity.

Okay, I get that, I said,

but five guards,

and the Intel says the facility doesn't have any heavy weapons?

No anti-aircraft.

Off the shelf sensor suites that I could hack in my sleep.

If the Intel is right, this place is so,

well, so dull.

Aside from that odd retractable floor,

there's nothing special about the place.

The hand drawn layout showed a good size facility,

living quarters, workout space,

an entertainment center, offices, labs,

in a tiered factory area of three rectangular decks

with an open space in the center.

The lowest deck was actually below ground.

From the drawings,

it seemed that the ground level deck had a hidden floor

that could slide out covering the lowest deck.

With the right tech,

that sliding floor could passively block any common scanning equipment.

If an inspector was looking for the below ground deck,

the floor wouldn't be able to hide it.

But if the inspector didn't know the below ground deck existed,

the floor would most likely do the trick.

Nothing special is likely the point, Zan said.

They may have bribe officials to get permits to build the facility,

but they have no way of knowing

that those same officials will be in place one, three,

five years, or more after the facility is built.

Government personnel often have a high turnover rate.

If the facility has nothing illegal,

nothing out of the ordinary,

then it will likely pass surprise inspection

by sentience who are not on their payroll.

That too made sense,

and yet it still didn't add up.

But they have all this money, IA said,

and they set up their critical operation on MT734?

IA, Goldman said.

The Vamata is a group of terrorists.

They can influence corrupt individuals in a government,

but as a whole, every government in the Milky Way

is actively hunting for them.

Not just the bats, all governments.

So is the Zoroastrian Guild, or what's left of it.

The Vamata aren't a mob outfit

with a routine of legitimacy

like Greedock the Splithead Zorana-Velani's organizations.

The Vamata cannot operate in the open.

I wouldn't be surprised if this facility

is the only building they actually control outright.

Assets are traceable.

Money trails are traceable.

When you had the best hunters in the galaxy

trying to track you down,

you have to be intangible.

You have to be a shadow.

Skipper nodded slowly.

That's why they put Thorn in charge of this.

He knows how to run a small operation.

Keep it quiet. It's like the base on.

He looked down, stopped talking.

On Laramie 3, Goldman said.

Where you rescued Fanaka.

Yes, it's like that.

But the operation on MT734 is even smaller,

even more self-contained.

He must have learned his lesson.

The place we need to hit

is built to look like a simple research lab,

a place studying the planet

for possible commercial development.

They look and act like a research facility,

keeping quiet, hiding in plain sight

in the middle of nowhere.

No towns. No civilization.

No atmosphere.

No nothing.

Aside from periodic supply deliveries,

the place was apparently self-contained.

The staff lived there for five years now.

No one for them to see or talk to.

No way for secrets to get out.

There was a small GANS prime station orbiting at the equator,

probably charging insane prices for fuel,

food repairs,

insane prices,

the rich tourists would easily pay.

Maybe the Vermont had the money to build an apex base,

but if so, they weren't spending it.

Because as Goldman said,

money left a trail.

They'd built a simple facility

that had quality gear,

but gear available to anyone,

anywhere.

Gear that would not raise a single eyebrow.

It struck I event that the Vermont strategy

was similar to the one she'd employed

when she'd fled the Faffner project.

She had the ability to rob financial institutions,

to create enormous wealth for herself,

to make false identities that were damn near untraceable,

but she'd done none of that.

She'd almost starved.

She'd hidden in a dumpster.

She'd done everything she could

to put out no signal at all,

so there was nothing to track.

She'd had the Faffner project after her,

the Vermont had the entire galaxy after them.

They're playing it smart, she said.

So smart that it gives us a window

to go in and shut them down.

Ironic.

Goldman shook his head.

Not Ironic at all.

They'd done it any different.

They wouldn't be this close to finishing.

Somewhere along the line,

they made a mistake,

and info got out.

If they hadn't made that mistake,

he shrugged.

No one might have ever known about the cruncher.

Skipper was starting to stare off

and was on the little world again.

There were bigger questions to be asked.

If no one else would speak up,

Aya would.

It could already be finished, she said.

The cruncher could already be gone.

If it is,

can we track it somehow?

Maybe by that weird energy signal

beans was talking about?

And how big is it?

I don't know the answer to your first question.

The Slorino said.

I've already discussed this with VDAN,

and we have some theories,

but nothing for certain.

As for the size of the cruncher,

if it is what these unassembled parts represent,

there are 12 meters long,

2.5 meters high,

and 2.4 meters wide.

The planet killer wasn't tiny,

which was good,

but it wasn't huge either,

which was bad.

Even if beans could find a way to detect it,

that detection method would have a fixed range.

Something the cruncher size

could be hidden almost anywhere across the galaxy,

or almost anywhere on a targeted planet.

Skipper looked up.

The haunted expression in his eyes broke eye's heart.

It doesn't matter, he said.

Eye is right.

Thorne probably already moved the bomb somewhere else.

VDAN's wings fluttered.

She rose slightly higher.

Then we will find out together, she said.

Destiny is for sworn to guide the righteous into the fray,

to be an obstacle to the march of evil.

I agroned inside.

Just because the hurrah had,

possibly been right about one conspiracy theory,

didn't mean she was right about the others.

Her empty platitudes in gibberish speak, grew annoying.

But still, she had a point.

Red was ready to leave you to die, Lolls, Skipper said.

He ordered that tether cut.

And you still want to help him with this?

The hurrah's wings stopped rippling for a moment.

Just as she had before,

she started to slowly tilt to the right.

Red wire made the correct call,

VDAN said.

The same call I would have made.

An individual life is not more important

than billions of lives.

Was she right about that?

I didn't know.

Maybe it depended on the individual in question.

Still, billions.

We're already on our way there, Skipper, I said.

It's not like we can bail out of a punch space jump.

We pop in, we see what we can see.

If it isn't doable, we punch someplace else.

Laura, maybe.

Goldman turned his stare on Ayah.

We're not punching away from empty 734.

If I have a chance to stop thorn,

I'm taking it, no matter what the cost.

What if we turn away from this,

and they hit a big planet?

What if they hit tower, or earth, or...

He took a step closer to Skipper.

What if we shy away from this one moment,

and they hit Ironath?

Home to my family.

Home of the crackings.

Skipper's eyes widened.

He blinked fast as if he were recovering from a slap.

The crackings?

If the crunch was real, if it worked,

entire planets could be wiped out.

And Goldman was talking about a football team?

Well, sure, he was on that team,

or had been before he was arrested.

But why would he say that?

And why would Skipper react like that,

when he...

Ironath, where Goldman lived?

Ironath, where the crackings played.

Ironath, where Quentin Barnes lived.

Ayah stared at the old man in the chair.

How could she have missed it?

Sure, she knew Skipper looked like Barnes,

but how had she not realized

just how much the two men looked alike?

One young, and one old.

Shaak me, Ayah said.

Skipper, is Quentin Barnes your son?

Zan's four-legged spider-schmeck

crawled across the top of the couch,

came closer to Ayah.

You are being ridiculous.

Zan said.

Of course Barnes is not Skipper's offspring.

Ayah realized something else at that moment.

She realized that Zan rarely lied,

because Zan was horrible at it.

Ironath, Skipper said.

I guess...

I guess I didn't think about it like that.

Goldman crossed his arms, nodded.

No one was going to answer Ayah's question.

That didn't matter.

What she now understood, what she had seen,

it could never be unseen.

You're right, Skipper said.

To whom exactly he said that, Ayah wasn't sure.

Skipper's face changed,

sliding from slack-jawed bewilderment

into a tight-lipped expression of grim determination.

You're right, he said again.

If we have a shot at this,

before Thorn can get away,

before he can move whatever this cruncher is,

then we need to take it,

no matter what the risks.

He glanced around the rumpus room,

looking at each sentient in turn.

I am going to help Redwire with this,

but I can't make anyone else do that,

and we have a second ship.

By the time we come out upon space,

we can make enough repairs to Diana Zero,

that Red and I can take that down to empty 734.

The Olorin can punch away immediately,

as Ayah said.

We are going to possibly attack a Vermata base,

a base run by the deadliest,

most ruthless sentience in the galaxy.

If anyone opts out,

you can take the Olorin and go.

I align back in her chair.

He was giving away the ship.

What would happen if Diana Zero crashed or there?

Temporary repairs broke down.

Viden's wings started rippling again.

She righted herself.

The arrow is mine,

she said to Skipper.

It isn't yours to command.

Skipper's eyes narrowed.

It is now.

If you don't like it,

that's fine.

Take the Olorin and go.

Red and I will manage.

This is probably one way ticket regardless.

Yitzhak Goldman nodded,

the corners of his mouth,

turning up in a small smile.

I agree, he said.

Killer and I are doing this.

Lolls, you hid in a place where no one should go,

and this conflict still found you.

Thorns going to hunt you down sooner or later.

Would you rather take them on a loan,

or with the stone wolves at your side?

A shiver ran through the Haraz body.

A few flakes of skin fell off.

I are really needed to get that girl some lotion.

I will fight with you,

Viden said.

And for the first time,

she sounded completely sane.

The lights of the darkness,

and the darkness of the light will guide us.

This one last time.

Well, almost completely sane.

I am in,

being said.

Where is milkiness goes?

Soak goes eye.

Zan spider legs jittered,

as the squirrel face again turned to Aya.

I have seen a planet die.

Zan said.

I will not stand by,

while it happens again.

Seen a planet die?

What did that even mean?

Aya took a slow breath.

If she didn't join the attack,

she could own the Olorin.

She'd never owned property before.

One of the fastest ships in the galaxy,

and the only one with a double punch drive?

Hers?

Home.

The Olorin was home.

But not because of the hole

that protected her from the void,

and not because of the cabin that held her things.

This place was home

because of the three sentience

waiting for her answer.

Beans,

Zan,

and Skipper.

She'd survived three battles.

What were the odds of living through a fourth?

Not good.

But that didn't matter.

Two ships are better than one, she said.

Maybe I'll inherit the Olorin someday,

but not today.

Skipper,

what are your orders?

The Skipper stood.

When he did, the years seemed to pour off him.

Shooting down that Olor had affected him deeply.

But whatever ghost that acted brought to life,

he was putting it back in the grave.

He began to pace,

making a steady lap around the rumpus room as he talked.

Let's go over what we know,

or at least what we think we know

based on intel extracted from red.

The facility has basic sensors that I can defeat.

We'll assume they have more than that,

but we won't know until we go in.

They may have a small carrier

with up to four fighter craft,

possibly of Herod design.

If there are Herod pilots in those fighter craft,

and we fly straight in and target the base directly,

we'll be slaughtered.

We don't want to attack directly anyway,

Goldman said.

We need to capture the Crunch Attack.

Skipper stopped cold.

We are not capturing anything,

he said.

If this tech can kill planets,

I don't want it in the guild's hands

instead of the rumpus.

I don't want it in anyone's hands.

We destroy it.

Skipper and Goldman locked eyes.

I held her breath as the battle of wills

made the room thick with tension.

Let's debate that later, Goldman said.

For now, I agree that a direct attack is a bad idea.

If that carrier is nearby

and has a raw-built fighter's

and experienced Herod pilots,

both the old run and the arrow are toast.

I knew enough about mission planning to know he was right.

On Rurgirk, the old run had used

almost all the ship-to-ship missiles it had,

only two left.

Even if both hit, which was doubtful,

considering the abilities of Herod fighter craft,

that only accounted for half the potential threats.

What if we don't come straight in, I asked?

If we don't attack the facility directly,

how close can we get?

One spider leg rose slightly, set back down.

Within two kilometers.

Zan said.

I have 100% confidence that we can land that close

and they will not know we are there.

Two clicks on foot across open barren terrain.

There's a lot of granite outcroppings and hills, I said.

I can draw us an approach map

that will completely hide us from line of sight.

And if the schematics are accurate,

I can hide our approach from any sensors the facility has.

Skipper nodded as he walked,

completing a second lap around the rumpus room,

starting a third.

So we go in on foot, he said.

I, can you get us into the facility itself undetected?

The billion credit question.

Probably, she said.

But I won't know for sure until we get there.

Skipper stopped walking.

He scratched at his stubble.

Everyone waited.

We'll go in on foot, he said.

Beans, I need you to finish all repairs

on both the Oleron and the Arrow

before we reach MT734.

Do whatever it takes.

But make sure we have full acceleration

and maneuverability at our disposal.

Skipper looked at Goldman.

Red, you help Beans.

Make sure both ships are as capable as they can be.

Lulls, I need you to show Beans everything

about the arrows, engines, and nav controls.

Got it?

The tips of the Haras mouth flaps pressed together.

I understand, she said.

Skipper then looked at Aya.

This man wasn't the drunkard she'd come to know,

not even close.

Aya, you get that red cast recorded

and program it on an SOS punch beacon.

Zan, make sure that beacon auto launches

in the event of the Oleron's destruction.

We might die, but at least some of the information

we have will get out.

Aya nodded.

She couldn't even speak.

This man was a leader of sentience,

an inspiring, deadly, frightening leader.

Thor knew we were going to Rurgurk,

he said.

He had time to notify the Ponskis.

That means Fanaka planted a tracker

somewhere on this ship.

Not just a tracker.

Something that can actually listen to us

and transmit information.

The only way he could have gotten the Ponskis

to Rurgurk in time is if he heard us talking about going there.

If we don't find that tracker

and the pocket carrier is waiting for us,

we'll have fighters on us the moment we come out of punch space.

Even with a second punch drive,

we won't get away in time.

Zan raised one spider leg and wobbled.

She was still getting used to controlling the machine.

There is no tracker.

She said.

It is impossible.

I scanned the ship myself,

both while Fanaka was here,

and after her death.

Aya found her voice.

So have I, she said.

I've gone over the rumpus room,

the bridge, and the galley with every trick I know.

There are no recording devices

and either place no hugs.

Maybe Fanaka planted a tracker that we missed,

but as for hearing our conversations,

there is nothing like that here.

Beans, reached out a tentacle,

turned off the portable holotank.

Uh-oh, he said.

I think this is my fault.

All eyes turned to him.

That empty storage drive and peach is jazzy,

he said.

When Fanaka came aboard,

I don't think it was empty.

You have been listening to The Stone Wolves,

season 11 of the Galactic Football League series,

written by Scott Sigler and J.C. Hutchins,

performed by Scott Sigler,

produced by Steve Rickeyberg,

for more information on Scott and more free stories,

go to scotsigler.com.

Copyright 2025 by EmptySet Entertainment.

All rights reserved.

No part of this audiobook or any part of this recording

may be used or reproduced in any matter

for the purposes of training artificial intelligence technologies

or systems.

The music is the song The Kids Are Coming For You

by The Band Superweapon.

I'm with you.

The kids are coming for you.

Nothing you can do.

They're coming for you.

Uh, The Regency Era.

You might know it as the time when Bridget and Takes Place

are the time when Jane Austen wrote her books.

But The Regency Era was also an explosive time

of social change, sex scandals,

and maybe the worst king in British history.

And on the vulgar history podcast,

we're going to be looking at the balls, the gowns,

and all the scandal of the Regency Era.

Vulgar history is a women's history podcast,

and our Regency Era series will be focusing

on the most rebellious women of this time.

That includes Jane Austen herself,

who is maybe more radical than you might have thought.

We'll also be talking about queer icons like Ann Lister,

scientists like Mary Annning and Ada Lovelace,

as well as other scandalous actresses,

royal mistresses, rebellious princesses,

and other lesser known figures

who made history happen in England in the Regency Era.

Listen to vulgar history wherever you get podcasts.

Hi, this is Rob Benedict.

And I am Richard Spate.

We were both on a little show you might know,

called Supernatural.

It had a pretty good run, 15 seasons,

327 episodes.

And though we have seen, of course, every episode many times,

we figured, hey, now that we're wrapped,

let's watch it all again.

And we can't do that alone.

So we're inviting the cast and crew

that made the show along for the ride.

We've got writers, producers, composers, directors,

and we'll of course have some actors on as well,

including some certain guys that played

some certain pretty iconic brothers.

It was kind of a little bit of a left-field choice

in the best way possible.

The note from Krypki was, he's great, we love him,

but we're looking for like a really intelligent,

decovny type.

With 15 seasons to explore,

it's going to be the road trip of several lifetimes.

So please join us and subscribe to Supernatural,

then and now.

The world of Sonic the Hedgehog

has been thrust into a not-so-dark,

not-so-stormy, hard-boiled detective story

that probably nobody saw coming.

Follow Sonic and the intrepid chaotics detective agency

as they take on their biggest case yet.

This high-fly action-packed adventure

will take them across the world, fighting for every clue they can find.

It's one heck of a tale, which is good,

because this story might be the only thing

that can save their lives.

Well, if that's all I can just dispose of you.

Wait, what?

All will be revealed in.

Sonic the Hedgehog presents the chaotics case files.

Listen now, wherever you get your podcasts.

The chaotics are on the cake.