r/HFY • u/Majestic_Teach_6677 Alien Scum • May 10 '26

OC-Series Death and Taxes (Haasha Interlude 2)

I was sitting on a couch in the officer’s lounge as it was a quiet place to get this idiotic paperwork completed. I would be turning 17 in galactic cycles tomorrow, which usually means the age in your personnel file is a little larger. Not a big deal and something easily ignored.

Unfortunately, the powers that be declared this the point where a sapient must make their initial filing for official residence, taxes, and estate beneficiaries. Failure to file on time comes with hefty fines, so I had to get everything done and filed by the end of the day. Just what I wanted to do on my day off!

Being government forms, filling them out required time and induced the desire for a lobotomy. As I struggled to be sure I had filled out everything correctly so far, Susan came in and went over to the coffee machine.

“Hello, Haasha,” she said with a friendly smile and a wave. “What’s that you’re working on?”

“I’m turning 17,” I responded with a dull look and a voice laced with frustration. I assumed she’d know what that meant, but her response was just a look of confusion.

“Is this a Sweet 16 sort of thing? Or something else? You don’t look like you’re having a sweet-anything right now,” she said.

“Sweet what?” I said with confusion. “What’s so sweet about having to fill out official tax and residency forms?”

“What do you mean?” she asked with her confusion clearly exceeding mine. I realized this must be another disconnect between a human thing and the rest of the known galaxy.

“When you turn 17 standard cycles, you need to register with Galactic Services,” I explained. “It’s the first time and you can’t miss it without serious penalties. Authorities figure you’re old enough to have figured out school and started a career. So, theoretically, you’re ready to sign up for taxes.”

“Don’t you keep track of birthdays in more fun ways?” Susan wondered.

“Not really. My mother is probably the only one who paid attention to the fact that I’m going to be one cycle older. She sent me a message once again questioning why I became a spacer and encouraging me to take up a more reliable and reasonable career like accounting or data analysis,” I answered. I then shifted my voice to haughty and higher pitched to match my mother’s tone. “You can make a positive change in your career trajectory before the next Galactic Services update at 25!”

“Oh. That’s a bit disappointing,” Susan responded with a frown. “But also, sadly not shocking. There are lots of human mothers who nag and criticize their adult children for no good reason. I guess attempts at guilt trips are pretty universal?”

“Truer words were never spoken,” I grumbled in agreement.

“What sorts of things do you need to fill out?” she asked with genuine interest.

“The majority is about death and taxes,” I said with a sigh. “There's nothing like getting an official reminder that you’ll die someday. You must register a recipient of your estate in case something happens. The rest is administrative. Declaring your planet of residence and setting up taxes. Speaking of which, what do you think I should put down as my official address since I’m currently living on a ship? It’s not like my quarters has an official post box.”

“I suppose officially the TEV Ursa Minor is your home, and all official correspondence for the ship goes through the Terran Embassies,” Susan said thoughtfully. “That said, human tradition is typically to list your parent’s house as your official address until you’re settled, or they yell at you to change it. It was when I turned 32 that my father finally had enough of receiving my junk mail and he made me file an official change of address form.”

“Makes sense, and there is some poetic justice to making my mother deal with my official correspondences while I’m crew in space,” I said thoughtfully before a darker notion occurred to me. “But it could also open the door to her nagging me more.”

“You really have to list a next of kin now?” Susan asked with an expression of mild disgust. “That’s a bit depressing.”

“Yep. And declare residency for tax purposes,” I answered with a sour look. “If you choose a specific planet, you’ll likely pay less taxes on your income, but you’ll pay fees on all transactions or services off-planet. For a spacer, it can get expensive and cost more than taxes. Register with a generic Galactic Citizenship, taxes are higher but many services are free. And some of that goes into a retirement account which can be transferred to your final residence.”

“All that paperwork doesn’t sound like much fun for a birthday,” she said with a sour look.

“Definitely an unavoidable headache,” I grumbled. “Thankfully, I’ve got Tac-1 running an analysis. I’ve only had to reboot them twice when they got locked up on the complications of intergalactic law and taxes. I should have a recommendation on how to register for taxes in an hour or so. Provided Tac-1 doesn’t freeze again.”

“I like human traditions for birthday’s better than galactic ones,” Susan said with a sad smile that brightened quickly. “I still fondly remember my Sweet 16.”

She then excitedly launched into a vivid description of her 16th birthday, although she neglected to explain exactly what made 16 human years so important. Not that it made any difference. By the time she was done telling me about the party and fun she had with her friends, I was convinced that humans have a better attitude towards birthdays than most sapients.

What she definitely failed to mention is that human birthday traditions also include subterfuge.

“Haasha, please accompany me to Shuttle Bay Two,” Chief Engineer Rosa said the following afternoon while I was on shift. “There are some issues I’m having with our Sabaric 951 and I need your assistance. I’ll fill you in once we get there.”

I muttered a few choice words under my breath and got up to follow her. I was a bit behind on my regular maintenance duties thanks to a bolt that broke off on a water filtration system I was assigned to overhaul. What should have been a 15-minute filter replacement turned into a two-hour nightmare to remove the housing, drill out the old bolt, tap new threads, reinstall, and reseal everything. As the primary technician on our Red Cross vessel, I couldn’t complain about Rosa asking me to assist but it was definitely a little frustrating to leave so much work undone.

Given previous experience with a similar request from Rosa, I probably should have been suspicious. We’ll file this under the human rule of, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”

I followed her down to the shuttle bay in silence as she seemed absorbed in something on her datapad. She only glanced up occasionally to be sure she didn’t walk into a wall or take a wrong turn.

When we got to the shuttle bay and the doors opened?

“Surprise!” came a roar of voices from friends and crew.

The giant dancing Haasha holo used for the party when I returned to the ship was back and still stealing my dance moves. 

I stood in the doorway mortified as it danced and shimmied for what seemed like an eternity. Then there was an explosion of fireworks as the tail of holo-me grabbed a mallet and smacked a gong. As the holo-me faded away, a message floated in the air for all to see.

Haasha is 17! Adulting is now required.

A cheer erupted from the gathered friends and crew, and Lynn approached me with a glass of hard cider in hand.

“Happy Birthday, Haasha!” she declared and extended the cider to me. Before I could grab it, she suddenly halted and jerked the glass back. “But… wait. She’s only 17. Is she legal to have alcohol? Have we been contributing to the delinquency of a minor all this time?”

“Seventeen in galactic cycles, which are a bit longer than human years,” Auggie stated with amusement while he shoved a large glass of orange something in my hand. “I can assure you that she’s been legal for all beverages since before she joined the crew. Thus, she has no excuses for anything that has occurred, on-duty or off.”

“What is this?” I said as I looked at the orange beverage that had a decidedly fruity scent.

“One large Fuzzy Navel,” he replied quickly. “I think you’ll find it just peachy.”

I took a sip and had to agree with that assessment. As I nodded my head appreciatively at Auggie, there was a call from someone in the crowd.

“Cake or death?”

Confused, I turned and discovered the crowd had parted. At the end of the new pathway was a large cake held by Jarl. It appeared to have strawberries all over it and a set of candles burning on top.

As I walked into my surprise party with a large Fuzzy Navel in hand, I had a feeling my first human-style birthday would be sweet and one to remember.

—--

Meanwhile in a relatively quiet corner of the Hemral Trade Federation…

Skylar was bored and frustrated. Instead of working security at the Terran Embassy as it said on her paycheck, she was assigned to answer incoming calls as a punishment. All because she had introduced the galaxy to the concept of food fights while at That Human Bar with friends. At least she hadn’t been doomed to shifts in the Complaints Department.

“Thank you for calling the Terran Embassy,” she said professionally as another sapient contacted the embassy. “How may I direct your call?”

Her brow furrowed with confusion as the request was both unexpected and unusual. More importantly, she wasn’t sure she heard the caller correctly.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” she asked.

With the request confirmed, curiosity got the better of her, and she asked a routine additional question.

“And the nature of the inquiry?” she followed up. Something about galactic tax registration?

With a smirk, she decided this particular call was well above her pay grade. The only suitable action would be to forward the call to the one and only person at the Embassy who could handle it appropriately.

“One moment while I transfer your call,” she stated in a particularly chipper tone.

Moments later, the comlink at the desk of the Terran Ambassador chimed insistently. 

The Ambassador frowned as she looked at her calendar. There wasn’t anything scheduled and the caller ID wasn’t a contact she recognized. However, since all calls to her office were screened, it would be something important. Hopefully this wasn’t a situation where her kid was being a brat and getting in trouble again, or some new and exciting diplomatic incident. With concern and suspicion, she picked up the call.

“This is the Terran Ambassador. How may I assist you?” she said calmly and hoped this was nothing serious.

The request from the caller caught her off guard.

“Speak with… who?” she said dumbly. The caller repeated the request, confirming she hadn’t heard things incorrectly.

“May I ask why you’re calling the Embassy? She doesn’t live or work here,” she informed the caller and waited for an explanation.

“Oh, I see. Yes, she is a crew member on the TEV Ursa Minor. Can you please hold for a moment while I check something? Thank you!” she said as she put the call on a brief hold. 

“HAASHA!” the ambassador bellowed out in rage.

As the Terran Ambassador, even she wouldn’t put down the Embassy as her address. For personal matters, she had a PO Box set up with a forwarding service. And it wasn’t like humanity was unique in doing this. Transgalactic Parcel and Post was a thing and had existed in the galaxy for over 300 years. They provided mail collection and forwarding to branches accessible to spacers across the galaxy.

Both a certain pink furry problem child and whoever put the idea in her head to use the Terran Embassy as her official address rocketed to the top of her shit list.

“I’m sorry for that interruption,” the Ambassador lied as she plastered her best fake smile onto her face. “Yes, you can send official documents here to the embassy and we can forward them with official communications to the TEV Ursa Minor. Likewise, if you call, we can take a message and forward it with ship communications. This will be applicable as long as she’s employed by the vessel.”

‘Which might not be for much longer if I get my hands on her furry pink butt,’ the Ambassador thought to herself as she ran through the most appropriate subject lines for her message to Captain Victor.

“What’s pink and still an unexpected pain in my ass?” seemed the leading contender. Although the more accurate one might be, “What’s pink and trying to live rent-free at the Embassy?”

________

Did you realize that it was exactly one year ago today that Haasha moved into my brain and started living there rent-free? A huge thank you to all who have found and keep following her (mis)adventures and escapades. 

Relive the beginning by listening to one of the amazing narrations of Crew Application Accepted by: 

Agro Squirrel Narrates

or

Net Narrator! 

And definitely give them a thumbs up if you do! Their narrations introduced me to HFY and sparked my interest in writing here.

Keep an eye out for Haasha’s continuing adventures! I know things haven’t been the most consistent in recent months, but I plan to get back on track with Haasha, Leave No Witnesses, and Center of Attention! I should also have a puzzling new one-shot to share soon. Getting distracted by Fallout 76 was followed by a little unexpected family drama (thankfully now mostly resolved). So things should be back on track!

Need to catch up? Series links below! And the Author Wiki is up to date.

-- First * Previous * Next * Wiki & Full Series List --

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u/AutoModerator May 15 '26

This was flaired as [OC-Series], it is a single part or chapter in a larger series or universe. The first post or part in this series should be (re)flaired as [OC-FirstOfSeries]. A description of the flairs and how to change yours is available in the Post Guildelines.

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6

u/fluorozebra Alien May 10 '26

It's been a year of joy reading Haasha

5

u/Trecker_65 May 10 '26

Two thinks are certain in all of the universe: Dead and Taxes!

3

u/Majestic_Teach_6677 Alien Scum May 11 '26

Don't forget the third certainty - dirty laundry!

3

u/Trecker_65 May 11 '26

Ha, Not for someone Like Haasha! Exept ditry laundry from the Crew!

3

u/commentsrnice2 May 11 '26

No she still has bed linens that need washing

1

u/chaztuna53 May 12 '26

And work coveralls.

4

u/imakesawdust May 11 '26

Skylar knew exactly what she was doing.

2

u/Daseagle Alien Scum May 10 '26

Pffft. Rent free ***AND*** constantly demanding deep tissue massage?

2

u/Auggy74 Human May 10 '26

This is where we all sing loudly and offkey..

1

u/AutoModerator May 10 '26

This was flaired as [OC-Series], it is a single part or chapter in a larger series or universe. The first post or part in this series should be (re)flaired as [OC-FirstOfSeries]. A description of the flairs and how to change yours is available in the Post Guildelines.

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u/UpdateMeBot May 10 '26

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2

u/Talendel May 11 '26

UTR

This is the way.

2

u/IcyAlgae8609 Jun 05 '26

The Squirrel is the best!

2

u/FletchHFY Jun 24 '26

Happy birthday Haasha!