My Big Goblin Space Program Chpt 1 thru 5

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My Big Goblin Space Program

“She is not hatched.”

“She is grown too large.”

“We will die as she slumbers.”

“Our magic cannot reach her. Our prayers go unheard.”

“But our magic can reach worlds unknown.”

“We have tried that before.”

“We must find one who can reach her for us.”

“Call them here.”

“Will it succeed this time?”

“We must try.”

Chapter 1 - Publicity Stunt

“Ignition - go flight. Navigation - go flight. Operations - go flight.”

I’d waited my whole life for this moment. Six years of college, two masters degrees in aviation and engineering, and everything almost derailed by a truck accident in grad school. I glanced down at the twin prosthetics attached below the knees of my space suit. After the accident, I thought I would only ever build rockets. Now, thanks to the CEO of Project NuEarth drunkenly exposing himself to twenty-million followers on social media, I was a much-needed PR win in the making. I was three days away from being the first person without legs to walk on the moon.

I’ll take it. Thank God for publicity stunts.

“Primary ignition on. Transferring primary control to atmospheric NAV computer. All systems go flight, people. Luna 2 is TACAMO.”

The rocket started to rumble to life underneath me as the primary motor kicked on. I looked to my left and right as the roar mounted. My mission commander, Major Dave Sanders, and the backup pilot, Sandra Davis (I know, trust me, they’ve heard it all), gripped their restraints as well. Dave looked over and met my gaze.

“Let’s hope this bucket you designed doesn’t spring a leak halfway to LP1, eh Chris?” called Dave over the rolling thunder of twenty-two independent rocket motors. He grinned. I’d known him even before I worked to design the self-sustained command module for NuEarth’s second manned moon mission. Hell, he’d recruited me from grad school and fought for me to receive astronaut training even after the accident.

I laughed. “The SC-Mod is golden, sir. As long as the first and second stages separate without a hitch, ain’t nothin’ keeping me off that moon dust by Friday.”

“Keep your legs on,” shouted Sandra. Her voice came through tinny over the internal radio. She reached out and gripped my space suit. I looked over, and she smiled.  “You made it, Chris.”

I felt a push against my chair as the motors opened up and the monolithic rocket began to move.

“Liftoff!”

“We’re not there yet,” I shouted. “But we’re on our way!” My knuckles tightened on my own restraints. Laughing was a struggle as the G-forces mounted. I’d trained for this in the centrifuge. Ironically, I had even better G-force tolerances than most of the other astronauts at NuEarth, since my blood could no longer go past my knees. But the pressure still squeezes the air out of your lungs like a whoopee cushion.

The tone of the motors started to change.

“Approaching first-stage separation,” gasped Dave.

“Acknowledged, first-stage separation,” said Sandra.

A vibration started to mount. I narrowed my eyes, trying to think what a vibration at this stage entailed.

The radio crackled in my ear. “Luna 2, nothing to worry about, but you might start feeling some shakes. We’re picking up a slight variance in the first-stage separators. Nothing to worry about, well within toller—”

                            *

I lay on my back, staring up at the sky—or rather, staring up at a box super-imposed on the sun. Too blurry and bright to read, I reached up and pawed at it before suddenly freezing. My vision might have been blurry, but I’m pretty sure my hand only had four fingers, was about half the length as usual, and blue.

I lurched to a sitting position, groaning and putting both hands to my head. I squeezed my eyes shut. My head felt huge, and every cubic centimeter of it throbbed. What had happened? I was on my way to the moon. My dream come true, finally. After years and years of hard work (and maybe a few nights of drunken debauchery). Then there was a slight variance, and then… what?

I forced my eyes open long enough to adjust to the light. I wiped gunk out of them with my claws (claws?!?) and tried to focus on the box that had stayed front and center in my field of view.

<Your previous life has ended. You have been granted a new life! Your assigned race has changed from Human to Goblin. Your job has changed from Systems Engineer to Goblin King.>

“What the hell? A new life? Hold up, what was wrong with my last one?”

The window changed. <Would you like to review your final moments?>

“Yes. Definitely.”

The window expanded, this time, showing a bird’s eye view of a rocket leaving the pad on a trail of exhaust, cruising into the upper atmosphere, and then exploding in a giant fireball.

“Oh…” I said.

We’d Challengered ourselves. Didn’t even make it to the thermosphere. Friggen’ first stage goons. Well within tolerance my new little blue butt. Still. I looked at my hands, and then the window again. Goblin King, huh?

<Would you like to view details on your new job?>

“Simulation theory confirmed, I guess?” I shook my head. “Yeah, lay it on me.”

<Goblin King

Tribe size: 1

Primary Skills

Head of the Snake - You cannot die unless you are the last living member of your tribe. Lethal damage will automatically transfer to a random member of your tribe.

Undying Loyalty - All goblins will exhibit absolute devotion upon meeting you. Defeating a rival Goblin King will transfer his subjects to your tribe.

Without Number - Expanding your tribe will unlock additional benefits

Tribal Knowledge - Practical Skills and technology unlocked will transfer to all members of your tribe.

Natural Leader - Increasing your tribe size will unlock additional benefits.

Goblin Ingenuity - You have been granted access to alternate advancement path: Goblin Technology Tree.

Reduced Mobility - You are ambulatorily challenged. Kings don’t walk anyway.>

Ambulatorily challenged? My eyes went wide at that last one. I looked down at my legs—which ended in two stubby knobs just below the knees.

“Oh, come on!” I shouted across the plain. Granted a new life in a new world (simulation?), in an entirely new body, and I was still friggen’ legless!

It hadn’t even been congenital in my last life. I’d lost my legs in a motorcycle accident as an undergrad when a truck driver blew a red light. This seemed really, really unfair. I sighed. Well, it’s not like I was any worse off. Also, I was alive. And since I didn’t see Davis or Sandra anywhere, I had to assume I was the only one of the three that had been plucked from Earth and put… wherever this was. The wide, grass prairie stretched out as far as I could see. But about forty degrees above the horizon…

“Woah… close the window for a second.”

<Goodbye.>

The box faded out, and I got a look at the biggest moon ever glowing above me. It took up at least a tenth of the sky, at minimum. It was pale blue, veined with pink minerals, and gigantic. I’m pretty sure I could see forests on it! And even a sea of cerulean waves.

I looked up at it, mouth agape, stunned as it shimmered in the morning sky. I don’t know how long I watched it. But I looked down at my legs. If I did it once.

“Tell me about the Goblin Technology Tree.”

The window returned. <The Goblin Technology Tree is a form of alternate advancement to achieve practical results through impractical means, materials, and methods, often more rapidly and less safely than traditional advancement.>

I looked around, seeing a couple stones. Shale, I think. Though since I’d always been more interested in space, terrestrial geology was never really my thing. But engineering…? I picked one up and banged it against another until I’d chipped away enough to have a workable edge, hissing as I cut myself on a shard. Red blood trickled off my thumb.

<Your tribe has advanced! Goblin Technology unlocked: Stone Stabbies.>

A stone knife—or stabby, as the System dubbed it. Basically, the most primitive tool ever manufactured. I looked at the crude, dirty edge that would probably take five minutes to saw through a piece of 550-cord. I looked up at the sky. I pointed my hand like a rocket and made a whooshing noise as I lifted it above the horizon and centered it over the blue and pink moon. This world’s moon looked a lot closer than the 250,000 kilometers thereabouts of the moon of Earth. Gears started to turn in my head. Was it possible? Could I really speed-run through six thousand years of human development based on nothing but engineering know-how, half-remembered survival shows, and a dubious, goblinized technical library waiting to be discovered?

Hell yeah, I could. Death be damned. It was on. I was still going to the moon.

Chapter 2 - A Leg to Stand On

If the System was to be believed, I couldn’t die unless I was the last living member of my tribe. Unfortunately, I was currently the only member of my tribe. I hadn’t played many fantasy games, but I knew goblins were generally bottom of the barrel in terms of individual power level. Looking at my scrawny arms and absent legs, I saw no reason why that trend might deviate here. The first order of business was getting out of this hot, dry prairie and finding some goblins to pump those numbers up before some wildcat made a meal of me. To do that, I had to be mobile. Unfortunately, I was also ambulatorily deficient. Which was a fancy way of saying Lieutenant Dan, you ain’t got no legs.

In one direction across the fields, I could see a tree line. But that was miles away, and the idea of dragging myself across that much open ground sounded like suicide. I doubted I was about to get a third chance if I bought the farm within an hour of reincarnation. Speaking of farms, I was going to have to figure out agriculture, which was a big blind spot. Surely there must be someone in this world who already understood it. Maybe even the goblins, themselves.

There were a few scraggly trees closer to my location. So, as the sun climbed in the sky, I started crawling my way over the grass and rocks, stone stabby kept close. I doubt it would do me much good if I were attacked, but it was better than my stubby, dull claws.

There was a surprising amount of strength in my new goblin limbs, despite their apparent scrawniness. I had a lot of upper body strength as a human from being in the rowing team in college, both before the accident and after rehab, and from rolling a wheelchair through NuEarth. But I’d have still been exhausted long before I got to the roots of the gnarled, spindly deadwood tree. I pushed myself up to the trunk, but that’s as far as I got. I tried and tried to haul myself up the trunk to some of the live branches and couldn’t manage it. I sagged back down to the roots to think.

My prosthetics before had been top of the line, 3D-printed carbon fiber blades that I was going to use to bounce around the surface of the moon. Well, if goblins were a thing, I doubted anyone in this world had heard of carbon fiber, let alone additive manufacturing.

The dead branches along the grass were twisted, gnarled, sap-covered things half-ready to snap. More tinder than wood, at this point. But they were the only thing within reach. I dragged myself around, tossing all I could find to a central location. <Goblin Technology Unlocked: Sticky spinny smacker> By the time I made a circuit around the tree, I had about a dozen sticks. None of which were suitable. I dragged myself back to the pile and sighed, considering. High-grade medical devices, these weren’t. But I wasn’t making high-grade medical devices. I was using the Goblin Technology Tree. Rapid iterations, impractical means, and lowered safety. Pretty much every engineer’s dream, when you think about it.

I took my stone knife and used it to peel down some of the bark from the old tree <Unlocked Goblin Technology: Sticky Stringy Thingies>. It came off in long, thin strips that were tough enough that I couldn’t break them by pulling them. Though, I also just wasn’t very strong. I selected the two straightest sticks I had. One was reasonably straight but twisted like a corkscrew. The other had a bumpy knob at the bottom that looked a bit like a shoe, and I hoped would offer some stability. I tugged them close and tugged up the simple hide wrap that protected my goblin modesty. With the bark, I lashed each of the sticks to my legs. The bark still had a little sap on the inside, and it helped act as an adhesive that bound the whole thing together far better than I felt it should have. Achieve practical results through impractical means, methods, and materials.

I selected the third-sturdiest stick to use as a cane. I’d had to use one to learn to walk again after the accident, and luckily this new body seemed to have kept my muscle-memory from the old, freshly-exploded body. By pushing off one of the larger roots and steadying myself, I was able to take a few tentative steps with the cane.

“Hot Christmas!” I said. “It’s working!”

I took two more steps before my left leg snapped and my face planted itself in the dirt.

<Often faster and less safely.> the system reminded me.

“Owww…” I muttered with a face full of dirt.

<Goblin Technology Unlocked: Sticky Stilts.>

Progress!

I rolled over and looked at the damage. My right prosthetic had snapped cleanly in two. There’d be no fixing it. I set to the task of peeling back the bark so I could swap it for a new one, but stopped when I heard a howl in the distance. And then I started peeling faster.

The bark came away, and I bound two of the smaller sticks together before binding the pair of them where the first stick had broken. Again, it seemed to hold better than I thought it should, so again, with a bit more urgency, I strapped the bundle to my thigh and climbed to my, erm, sticky-stilts, again. This time, I spread the weight across two canes, rather than one single cane. I made a quick circuit around the tree to make sure there’d be no more breakage, and then set off toward the tree line.

It wasn’t long before I heard the howl again, closer this time. I hesitated to put on too much speed, lest I break these primitive prosthetics and leave myself a sitting duck. But I could feel the wind blowing past me, carrying my scent deep into the prairie.

Goblins aren’t large creatures—or, at least, this goblin wasn’t. Even with the stilts, I was maybe a meter tall. The grass rising on either side of the narrow trail was like the walls of a canyon, except that anything might lurk within and burst out at any moment.

I thought back to media containing goblins. They were always shown as devious, dangerous creatures to be dispatched by the main characters early on in their journey to prepare them for tougher foes. They attacked in swarms, ate rotten meat, and served dark lords, all that jazz. But at that moment, a lone goblin seemed quite the vulnerable creature. If goblins were real here, what other fanciful creatures existed? Trolls? Ogres? Chupacabras?

All of the above, knowing my luck. I limped faster, flinching every time one of my improvised legs creaked underneath me. I didn’t know much about Goblins, but I got the distinct impression that I was a forest creature. The trees shouted safety to me. I just wish they’d shout it from a little closer. I felt like a tiny puppet scurrying around. Huffing and puffing with exertion, the tree line started to grow overhead.

Something startled a flock of birds in the grass behind me, and the howling came again, even closer, this time. I froze, looking back, and raising one of the improvised canes. Sweat ran down my little goblin body. Nothing appeared, and I willed my shaking stumps to move. I had to get to the woods.

As I reached the scrubby brush before the tree line, I heard a growling behind me, and turned to see some sort of large canine with red fur, four eyes and fangs the size of my index finger emerge from the tall grass. I stared at it. It stared at me, drool dripping down its chops. Thick claws dug at the turf beneath its paws. It lowered its head, ready to charge.

One cane would have to do. I pulled back with my right hand and sent the stick spinning toward the monster. It must not have ever encountered a goblin using a, what was it the system had named it? A spinning smacky, before. It watched the lazy arc of the oncoming projectile with confusion right up until the knobby end of the stick thumped into its forehead, right between the eyes.

It yelped in pain, falling over and scrabbling against the ground. I turned and hobbled my way away, as fast as I could. The yelps behind me turned to growls of fury, but I had reached the treeline.

I heard the snuffling and scrabbling behind me.

“Stay away!” I ordered. “Bad dog!”

My voice was high, tinny like an old-fashioned radio broadcaster. I felt like I should be advertising soap flakes. Not exactly intimidating. Clifford didn’t think so either. He lunged at me, just as my right leg gave out with a snap.

I fell to the ground, losing my other cane as it was snatched out of my hand by a red, furry comet streaking overhead. Rolling onto my back, I pushed up and watched the wild dog snap the branch between its teeth. It padded toward me. I reached about for something, anything that I could use in my defense. The only thing quick-to-hand was a rotten fruit on the ground. I picked up the bulbous, foul-smelling thing and recoiled. Maybe a direct hit would overwhelm its senses and frighten it off. I pulled it back for a throw right as the dog lunged. A small window appeared at the corner of my vision.

<Careful with that.>

The fruit sailed out of my hand. This time, the dog knew what was coming. He opened his jaws and clamped down on the fruit before it could hit him. Then, there was a bright flash, a wave of pressure, and I found myself airborne with ringing ears.

<Goblin Technology Unlocked: Simple bomb fruit poppers>

Chapter 3 - Blastoff

I felt like I was back aboard the rocket. I flew through the foliage and got a bird’s eye view of the woods as they blurred past. My ears rang, and I had just enough time to consider that if the explosion hadn’t killed me, the fall certainly would, before I reached the top of my parabolic arc and curved downward toward the forest. I shouted, windmilling my arms, and fell straight on my head, which squished, and recoiled, bouncing me another five meters in the air where I got stuck in a tree.

I groaned, putting my hands on a tender spot at the top of my head. “How am I not dead?”

The box returned. <Would you like to view your racial information?>

“Yes, please.”

 <Race: Goblin

Innate Traits:

Meek – Goblins are among the weakest creatures. Goblins start at level 1. Goblins cannot level up.

True Omnivore - Goblins can derive nutrients from any meat, fruit, or vegetable, even those toxic to most other species.

Rapid Reproduction - Goblins are naturally occurring. Where there are Goblins present, more Goblins will regularly appear. No funny business required.

Inert - Goblins are incapable of using magic.

Soft-headed - Goblins are resistant to blast damage and immune to fall damage. Happy landings.>

“Resistant to blast and fall damage, huh? I guess that’s lucky.”

<Goblins would probably be extinct otherwise.>

Given my current predicament, that probably true. Wait a second.

I blinked. The message vanished as quickly as it had appeared. That was an odd system message (implying that there were normal ones? Amazing how fast you can adapt to the unimaginable). It sounded almost conversational.

“System, are you sentient?”

No answer.

“System, what are your operational parameters?”

No answer.

“System, grant root access.”

No answer.

“System, enable power-user permissions.”

Nothing. Worth a shot. I wracked my brain.

“System, print(“Hello, world!”).”

Nada. Hmph. If it was a computer of some sort, it wasn’t parsing Python. Alright, system,  keep your secrets. But know this: They’re not safe from an engineer!

<Your Tribe has increased to 3 members.>

I looked down from the tree. Below, two blue, fuzzy creatures with bulbous heads, flat noses, and wide, floppy ears were carrying what looked like the mangled remains of the dead canine. I looked at the mess I’d made of its jaws, blowing the mandible completely off from that fruit. Jesus, that could have been me. Then I looked at the wide-eyed goblins. They both had rough hide wraps and skull-masks of strange creatures, but they were unmistakably the same species I was.

“Hey!” I yelled. “Get me down from here!”

The pair squawked in surprise, dropping their prize, and started panicking for a few moments before running off into the brush.

“Come back! I thought I was supposed to be your king!”

I hung in the tree, arms limp below me, and sighed. So much for royalty.

<Your tribe has increased to 9 members.>

I lifted my head. The first two goblins had returned, bringing with them another handful of the little blue fuzz-balls in skull masks and rough hide cloaks. Some of these new ones were carrying long sticks between them, while others carried shards of flint and shale. They dropped their equipment and set to a frenzy of work, banging rocks against each other and gnawing on the wood so fast it sounded like putting a board through a table saw. Within a few minutes, they had a set of stone knives and poles that, I had to admit, were quite a bit straighter and more sturdy-looking than mine had been. The ones with knives began stripping back from the tree and up-rooting vines to convert to cordage.

Well I’ll be damned. They were using the Goblin Technology I’d unlocked. Just by virtue of being in my tribe, the simple skills I’d developed had transferred over to them. And, as much as I was loathe to admit it, they were better at it than I was.

I don’t know how they selected their champion to get stilted up. Goblin communication seemed to be almost completely non-verbal, comprised entirely of grunts, squeaks, babbling, and casual physical assault. When they did make a unique sound, it seemed like their language consisted entirely of onomatopoeia. One might make a chewing noise to indicate that they wanted a pole trimmed, for instance, while simultaneously striking their intended trimmer with said pole.

It was a lot like communicating with partners during undergrad group projects, if I’m being honest.

Still, once they got one of them strapped up with stilts, they hoisted him up with great aplomb. He wobbled closer, windmilling his arms as the other goblins cheered him on. Unfortunately, he still couldn’t reach me, and I still couldn’t free myself from where I was wedged in between the tree branches.

“Come on, come on!” I called down. “Just a bit higher!” My new tribesmen chattered and wrapped their hands around the stilts, hoisting their fellow into the air. He squawked and pitched back and forth, suddenly unsteady. But he was still out of reach.

One of the goblins seemed to have a bright idea. He jumped, letting go of the stilts and dashing off into the brush. The others, now unbalanced, teetered in a chittering mass, and the one on stilts wailed as he toppled over, plowing into the ground face-first. I winced.

“Well, you tried.” I said. I wracked my brain. “Don’t worry guys. This is just the first iteration. We’ll adapt, iterate, and test again. As your new king, I promise you, we will figure out a solution to this problem!”

My new tribe mates got to their feet and started cheering. Huh. Even being completely non-verbal themselves, it seemed they had no issues understanding my words and ideas.

I caught a hint of movement out of the corner of my eye as the goblin who had departed previously returned. When I saw what he was carrying, even being upside down, I feel like all the blood must have drained out of my face. The little guy hoisted one of the rotten fruits above his head, making a noise like a bomb going off. The rest of the tribe squawked in alarm and scrabbled to get away. They weren’t fast enough—especially the one still with over-long stilts strapped on.

“Wait, wait!” I said. But it was too late. Not known for their patience, apparently. The goblin proudly hurled the fruit straight at the tree I was stuck in.

The blast, if anything, was even more powerful than the first.

<Your tribe has decreased to 7 members.>

Chapter 4 – Regular Losses

At least I was out of the tree. I had completely forgotten that transferring my Goblin Technology skills to the tribe transferred all the skills—including ones that weren’t exactly safe. Those explosive fermented fruits had just killed 2 of my 9 followers. The one that had thrown it, and the much-celebrated stilt-walker they’d elevated in a doomed attempt to reach me.

Still, I was alive and back on the ground. One by one, the survivors poked their heads out of cover and came to regard me, crouching down and pointing out various things about me to each other. Mostly my legs—or lack thereof. Before I could even ask them to do it, they were back at work fashioning a set of poles to use as primitive prosthetics and hoisting me up so that they could be affixed to my legs. I wasn’t sure if this was a result of knowledge transfer from myself, or if they were simply far more clever creatures than their appearance and method of communication would suggest. But once again, their versions seemed more effective and practical than my initial, rushed attempt with the dry wood.

“Thanks, guys,” I said. They all grinned and looked at each other beneath the skull hats. Two returned to the dog creature and set to the task of hoisting the limp carcass between them. I pinched my chin.

“Hold up. Bring me one of those poles and some of the vines. I can make that easier.”

My seven remaining tribesmen rushed to be the ones to fulfill my request, resulting in two separate fist fights and one goblin getting bit. But they managed to get the wooden pole and the improvised cord over to me. I set to work tying the feet of the carcass to the poles, and then indicated that one goblin should lift at each end. They did so, and their eyes widened in wonder.

<Goblin Technology Unlocked: Dinner poles>

They cheered, and several of them tried to muscle in on the pole to be the one to carry it. I struggled to walk along-side, and three of the excited goblins approached me with another pole and some rope.

“No!” I said, holding up my hands. “Freight only!”

Still, I could barely walk through the rough underbrush on the improvised prosthetics. Thankfully my new goblin body was super light, or I wouldn’t have been able to stand on them at all. I considered, and pointed at the leftover wood.

“Trim those down and leave the ones on the edges longer, then lay them side by side and tie them together.”

One frenzy of activity later, I had a reasonable approximation of an old-fashioned stretcher. I eased myself down onto it, then pointed at two of the goblins. “You and you, pick it up by those handles.”

With specific goblins designated, there was less fighting to be the one to carry me. The two I’d designated managed to take their positions with only minor blows traded over who would be in front and who would take the rear. Once that was sorted, they hoisted me off the ground.

<Goblin Technology Unlocked: Improvised litter>

I could literally see the understanding sweep across their faces as the technology skill spread. I didn’t know the mechanism—was this some sort of in-built goblin magic? Were they low-level psychics in some sort of goblin gestalt? Or just natural empaths?

“Alright. Let’s take it nice and easy. Back to the village, or wherever—woaaah!”

Goblins apparently have no sense of pace, which matched their general lack of any form of chill or caution. Anyone not assigned to the pole or the litter was apparently on bushwhacking duty, and they shouted as though charging into battle as they cut through terrain almost as fast as they ran, using just teeth, claws, and their simple stone knives.

The litter-bearers ran at full-tilt behind them, and I held on for dear life as they made their best effort to bump me off in their mad dash. Somehow, I stayed on. But I felt like fried rice being tossed around and flipped above a wok. I was going to need a better way of getting around.

The upside is that we made great time, and we weren’t attacked by any forest monsters. I assume few enough of them want to be caught in the path of goblin pathfinders, lest they be cut apart and trampled like the foliage. God knows the goblins weren’t shy about making their presence known.

We reached a sharp, rocky bluff, and the goblins surprised me by not slowing down much at all as we hit the cliff face and started climbing. I held on for dear life as the litter bearers somehow managed to balance the weight of the litter and their new king while ascending.

The climb was harrowing. But, as far as the general location went, a bluff was a sound spot for a village. Elevated, isolated, with enough trees for shelter. Plus, a commanding view of the nearby woods and easily defensible from the top—save for one slope that looked slightly shallower than the rest. But something like that could be walled off and guarded. I’d have to survey the opposite side, later. Looking out, I could see other similar bluffs, and I wondered if they also held isolated goblin villages.

I didn’t have much time to enjoy the view. After a moment’s breather, the convoy returned to their frenetic pace and charged through the brambles straight to the goblin village.

While the bluff was impressive, the village atop was less so. It was more of a tamped down copse of trees with a lot of mud, a heap of bones, another heap of droppings, and a stagnant scummy rain-water pond distressingly close to both of the previously mentioned mounds. I had a feeling I’d be putting that immunity to most toxins to the test sooner rather than later.

As we broke out of the new trail we’d carved in the underbrush, the litter-bearers ground to a halt. I, having not yet invented seatbelts, continued forward. Luckily, I landed on my head, and bounced. I tumbled into the center of the village.

<Your tribe has increased to 32 members.>

The litter bearers, having realized their mistake, squawked in distress and carried the litter over, trying to wedge it back under me.

“I’m good, I’m good!” I shouted, waving them back. “We’re here, right?”

Several more goblins were present in the village. They all oggled me with open amazement as the earlier members of the tribe proceeded to mime the entire process of my discovery. Several ran off and returned with stones and sticks and set to work crafting themselves basic stabbies of their own. The knowledge really did propagate just through proximity. I panicked and grabbed the nearest goblin.

“Make sure no one brings any of that rotten fruit in here. I don’t want to blow up the whole cliff side, got it?”

The goblin made an explosion noise and spread his hands apart.

“That’s right, no bada-boom. You see anyone trying to bring one of them in here, you bite them. Got it?”

My first guardsmen gnashed his teeth and grinned and began to scrutinize the other members of the village, who, themselves, were more interested in the corpse of the canine they’d brought back. They fell on the thing, ripping and sawing at it, pulling out soft innards and shoving them directly into their wide mouths.

I thought it would make me sick, but my stomach actually started to growl and my mouth to water so profusely that drool started dripping down my chin. One of my new subjects tore off a haunch and ran it over to me, a length of intestines still in his mouth. He slurped it up like a spaghetti noddle as he handed me the haunch. Red meat must have been the choice cut, if they were giving it to me.

The goblin in me wanted to tuck in, but enough of the human remained that still thought meat ought to be cooked first. Unfortunately, I didn’t actually know how to build a fire beyond the basic theory. I’d never even gone camping without a lighter and a bag of charcoal briquettes. All those primitive survival shows I’d binged in the hospital had taught me terms, and maybe a general order to apply them while I was stuffing my face with delivered pizza in the comfort of my bed. But the specifics? Well, it just made me realize how much work I really had to do. I shrugged, and sank my teeth into the raw haunch.

It was delicious. Something about the texture bothered the still-human part of my brain, but the goblin was all about raw meat. My jaw started to work on its own, buzz-sawing through tough meat, tendon, and gristle until all I had was a picked-clean leg bone. My stomach bulged. I must have eaten a significant percentage of my own body weight in just a couple minutes of frenzied feeding fugue.

My eyes started to droop. Something about the full belly and the dappled light filtering through the canopy conspired to convince me that speed-running civilization was a tomorrow problem. I looked around the clearing, seeing that many of the goblins were wavering on their feet and looking lethargic.

I suppose a nap couldn’t hurt. But I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to sleep. Did they have beds of leaves and grass? Or did they just curl up wherever they got tired? How did they stay warm?

A pair of hands wrapped me from behind, and I was tackled to the ground. I tried to struggle, but a second goblin threw himself on top of us, and then quickly, a third.

“Betrayal!” I shouted. “I thought I was your king!” I thrashed out, trying to work my way free as more goblins leapt upon me, forcing me back down to the ground. I kicked out, and I’m pretty sure one of them bit my arm.

several more of the goblins belly-flopped on top of the growing pile, which quickly became a cage of slender limbs and bulbous heads, and… snoring? I stopped fighting and twisted my head around. Two of the goblins in the pile were fast asleep, and it sounded like the rest were well on their way. I guess a fed goblin was a happy goblin. Now that the sudden shock of being driven to the ground and dog-piled was beginning to wear off, the fatigue returned, and I found myself drifting off in the warm buzz of the goblin mound.

Chapter 5 - Speed-running Civilization

I awoke to a general panic, and at first I thought we were being attacked, until the first drops of rain started hitting me as the goblin sleeping mound churned and became a tangle of fleeing, frightened creatures.

I watched as they all sought shelter under trees and limbs, holding their smelly, raw-hide cloaks above them for cover. They had no concept of housing or umbrellas to keep the rain off—despite being wet seeming to agitate them. I’ll admit, it was an unpleasant sensation, having wet fur. But, having spent significant time on the water in college, I was able to grin and bear it. I pushed myself up and wobbled over to the scummy pond, cupping my hands and bringing the water to my mouth. It was only slightly better than the after-taste of raw sewage. I thought back to the impromptu meal.

Part of me definitely found the texture of raw meat distasteful, even if my goblin taste buds relished the flavor. But it wasn’t just texture that cooking improved. It released and preserved nutrients, allowed food to be kept longer and eaten more safely, while providing more benefits to health.

I looked back at the village of goblins, who watched me from the shelter of bushes and trees. I spotted two slightly smaller goblins without the curious skull masks and called up the system window.

<Current tribe size: 34.>

I’d gained two more members overnight. Well, the racial traits had mentioned that more goblins could spontaneously appear close to existing goblins. I hadn’t expected that to mean that they’d appear nearly full-grown. That was how they kept from going extinct, I suppose, despite having next to no concept of language, invention, housing, or self-preservation. I doubted they’d be much for child-rearing—especially seeing as their heads were at least twice as wide as their narrow hips. If there was some sort of god watching over this place, he surely had a soft-spot for keeping the little guys around despite all impracticality.

“System, can you provide me with custom notifications?”

<Define parameters.>

“Every time I wake up, define the current tribe size and delta from previous tribe size notification.”

<Custom notification defined.>

I took a seat near the closest tree and started to ponder the monolithic task ahead of me. Lofty goals like getting to this world’s moon were well and good. But I had stone knives as a starting point, advanced space flight as the end-goal, and a whole lot of fill-in-the-blanks in between. I was reasonably assured of being able to create, say, a simple two-stroke aircraft with a simple engine—provided I had aluminum, steel, and the ability to mill cylinder heads, pistons, and a prop shaft. Oh yeah, and fuel refined enough to power and lubricate the whole thing. But how to acquire an alloy as versatile as aluminum and shape it into panels? How to find and process oil into usable fuel? How to build a spark plug? And all with a non-verbal work force.

I decided I was getting ahead of myself. The goblins as they were now, were living in a pure subsistence society of hunter-gatherers. They had no concept of anything but how to live the next few minutes. They had no safety net, no concept of permanent shelter or food storage other than their own bellies. The existence of the cliffords proved they had natural predators, as well, easily capable of picking off isolated members of the tribe. And what about larger predators? Forest dwellers? Hell, there might be humans in this world and I’d seen enough movies to know that humans and goblins rarely got along. The tribe’s only safety was in numbers, and being able to spontaneously reproduce was their ace-in-the-hole that let them maintain the population. Thanks to that, they were hanging on. Barely. 30 members was not a sustainable number for a community that wanted to enter industrialization.

That’s where I needed to start. Before I could start tackling advanced concepts like metallurgy and chemistry, I had to make sure their basic needs were met in order to expand the tribe. They needed to be able to know where their next meal was coming from, and that they’d have a roof over their heads so that the next rainstorm wouldn’t leave their fur drenched.

Food was most important. I selected a party of six goblins at random. “Go hunt something for tonight’s dinner,” I said. The six of them raised their knives over their head and raced off into the forest, screaming a war cry.

“An animal!” I shouted after them, shaking my head. Lord help whatever was in their path. Death by a thousand cuts awaited. Hopefully the hide would be in decent enough shape, so that I could figure out how to process leather.

I needed two things for that: tools and raw materials. You could do a lot with wood, stone, and string. But there were still limits. Luckily, the bone pile would be a convenient source of small, precise tool parts like needles and hooks and pins. Other raw materials were plentiful as well, and I’m sure the forest would provide if I could figure out where to look. If we were going to kick-start construction and manufacturing, I had a few priorities that were, as yet, unsourced.

I needed material harder and sharper than shale for cutting tools. Obsidian would be best for sharpness, but I knew that had something to do with volcanoes. It was also too brittle for things like saws and axes. Flint would be best. I was pretty sure it was more common and workable in relatively simple ways.

Three other primitive materials my tribe currently lacked were clay, adhesive, and leather. Of the three, clay was the most important to primitive advancement. Clay meant containers and weather-proofing, and it was both easy to acquire and easy to work with. You could make tools and molds from clay, and even complex devices. Once you found a clay deposit, you harvested it, mixed it with sand, dirt, or water, depending on what you wanted to do with it, and then you shaped it just like clay you’d buy in a craft store. You needed fire or a lot of time in the sun to fully cure it, but judging by how damp everything in the forest was at the moment, fire would have to wait.

Adhesive shouldn’t be too difficult, either. We had sticky sap from the trees. If I could find some pine trees, their resin would be extremely effective—but storage and transportation of it came back to clay. I needed containers.

Leather came from animal hides. I think I’d seen them make it on a survival show, once, and it involved scraping the animal skin as clean as possible and then stretching it and rubbing brains on it. Which seemed pretty morbid. I’m not sure why you needed the brains, was there some fat, oil, or enzyme in brains that aided the tanning process? Either way, all the basic requirements were already in camp—including the mostly in-tact hide of the red canine from the night before. And the skull. Since clay would have to be found and transported, and I doubted the goblins would be keen to go out in the rain and hunt for it, I set that task aside.

I waved a couple of them over. “I need stabbies and a wooden square, about yay big,” I said, gesturing. The goblins mimed my motions and looked at each other before running off. Others handed their new knives to me—point first, I should mention. I gingerly took the sharpest one and looked down at what remained of the canine—which, admittedly, wasn’t much. The thing had been torn limb from limb and eviscerated in the goblin feeding frenzy. There was maybe a decent patch on its back with enough hide to maybe make a small shawl or cloak that only had a few bite marks.

I’d never skinned an animal before, so I cut along where the least damaged part of the pelt was and pulled it back, resisting the very goblin urge to just stuff everything in my mouth by the fist-full. I dug and scraped wherever it caught as I pulled, and eventually it came away in my hands. The back of it was slick with connective tissue.

About that time, the goblins who had run off came sprinting back with the makeshift frame, and I took the offered rope. I pursed my lips looking at it, and then pointed to the bone pile. “Bring me a small bone.”

The goblins raced off to do as I said. They came back with a selection of bones I didn’t recognize, but then, I’m not that kind of doctor. I picked what might have been a bird’s rib bone and ground a small eyelet into it with a knife, then threaded the smallest of the cord I could find and punched it through the hide.

<Goblin Technology Unlocked: Boney sutures>

I pulled the cordage through and tied it to the corners of the frame to stretch it taut over the opening.

<Goblin Technology unlocked: Sticky framing>

<Goblin Technology unlocked: Skinny tanning>

I stopped. Wait. Boney sutures and sticky framing and skinny tanning. It took everything I had not to smack my wide goblin forehead. This whole time, I’d assumed the sticky in all the sticky goblin tech referred to the sap clinging to the bark-weave cordage. Did it instead refer to the sticks? Heaven help me if this technology tree was full of puns.

Handing the knife back to its original owner (I think), I indicated the hide. “Clean this as best you can, then rub its brains on it.

I had barely turned around before I heard a splash and turned back to see the goblins smacking the whole kit and caboodle into the pond.

“Not like that!” I said, waving my arms. “Scrape it clean with the knife!”

The light of recognition passed over the tribe, and they waded back out of the pool and went to work cleaning the rest of the gristle and tissue off the Clifford skin. I left them to it and turned to the rest of the village.

While they worked, I noticed several of the other goblins hacking poles together in various shapes, and realized that sticky frames, as the system called them, weren’t just an end product, but a material on their own. Good. That meant they could be used to make more advanced things, like shelters. I found sticky frames being worked on that were vaguely triangular shaped, and had their owners hold them upright while I spent a few hours lashing a few cross-bars and weaving vines into a lattice until I got the technology window to flash again with <Advanced sticky frames>. By the time I finished, the rain had stopped and the harsh afternoon sun was starting to beat down. The moon would eclipse it soon enough, with the totality lasting several hours if my judgement was correct. It seemed total solar eclipses were a near daily event in the world.

Since I hadn’t noticed a moon-set or moon rise, I also had to guess that the moon was tidally locked to this hemisphere, though it did trace a slow circle in the sky over the hours that I spent working, going from about 40 degrees from the horizon to directly overhead.

<Goblin Technology unlocked: Sticky shelter>

Now we were cooking. I looked around. Suddenly, half the village seemed to be re-working their projects. Good. They’d refine them, and then I could show them how to apply foliage and grasses for insulation. In the meantime, I returned to the hide, which the tanners were already applying the brains to.

<Goblin Technology unlocked: Red-hide tanning>

With all the brains used up, the goblins left the hide and went to work fashioning what was left of the skull into a mask for one of our newest members.

Good. Things were proceeding well.

<Your tribe has reduced to 32 members.>

<Your tribe has reduced to 30 members.>

What the hell?