Star Force: Phase 2 #74-83
Author: Aer-Ki Jyr
Date: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00
Description: Anthology containing: Star Force: Carnage Star Force: Metamorphosis Star Force: Point Zero Star Force: Maty Star Force: Whitmore Day Star Force: Enlightenment Star Force: Reclaimers Star Force: Blue Blades Star Force: Blood on the Stars Star Force: Reignor
Publisher: Archon Lore
Rights: Copyrights as per source stories

Carnage

1

August 18, 154929

Uever System (Grand Border, Oso’lon Section)

Kli’merack

They came in via waves, all through the same jumppoint. Hadarak mainline units clustered together into clumps for the interstellar voyage that immediately scattered upon entry to the system and braked on their own individual courses.

It was a new tactic the Hadarak had developed in recent years to combat the V’kit’no’sat’s ability to blockade certain lines when they had advance warning of a surge coming, and it virtually guaranteed large chunks of their invasion fleets would bypass the gauntlet waiting for them in low stellar orbit.

C’fad watched them pouring into the Uever System remotely, for he wasn’t onboard one of the V’kit’no’sat warships meeting them in battle. He was the planetary defense commander for Kli’merack, the largest of the 7 inhabited worlds in the system. All had Oso’lon on them, and all were lightly populated. No hatchlings were allowed in the Grand Border, and on the odd occasion where eggs were laid here, they were immediately transported back beyond the border to the safe V’kit’no’sat worlds.

The Oso’lon here were volunteers who knew their duty, and C’fad was no exception. The Uever System was one of many navigational points spread across a narrow barrier between Hadarak territory and Star Force territory. Too deep for the Hadarak to bypass in a single jump, but far too thin to suffer the loss of two consecutive systems. If that happened, the Hadarak could long jump through the pair, skipping over the neighboring heavily defended systems and getting into the ‘safe’ Core worlds.

And that was what they were trying to do. C’fad didn’t know how the Hadarak learned what they learned, for they had never been past the Grand Border since the surge began, but they knew exactly what they were doing as some of their mainline units didn’t stay to fight...rather moving around the star and jumping out the far side that would lead them to another Grand Border location. It would be the responsibility of the system defense fleet there to catch and kill them before they could move on, but there were no large numbers getting through. And certainly no Wardens, though there were plenty coming into the system.

They were scattered amongst the Skarron-like flow of reinforcements coming in, and so far there had been 82 show up here in the past 3 days. The Oso’lon fleet had decimated them on entry, but their Essence reserves were getting low and the call for V’kit’no’sat reinforcements from adjacent systems had not yet been answered. It was clear the defense formations in low stellar orbit were going to be insufficient, and that meant the Hadarak would either try to move through or attack the worlds here…and it appeared to be the latter. They didn’t just want to bypass the Grand Border, they wanted to break it permanently.

C’fad stood on a slightly elevated platform inside the planetary command deck on the surface in one of the many small cities scattered across the world as he saw 4 Wardens break through along with swarms of minions and some mainline ships as they got to the jumpline for Kli’merack. Once there they didn’t hesitate, making their slow jumps toward his planet with their arrival calculated at 13 hours from now.

The V’kit’no’sat fleet could move much faster than that, but they had to choose between fighting the Hadarak coming in on the jumpline when they were in a partially compromised state or chasing after the 4 Wardens that had gotten through.

This wasn’t the first time the V’kit’no’sat had faced a situation like this. All along the Grand Border there had been battles fought in such circumstances, and the procedure was clear. Stick with the incoming jumppoints in order to do maximum damage to the Hadarak fleets, and let the planetary defenses deal with the ones that got loose, for the enemy might be attempting to draw the defense fleet away from the jumpline intentionally.

Whether it was intentional or not it was still effective. The Wardens were too large to quickly kill, and the Hamob-class Avengers could not get close enough to do maximum damage when the swarms deployed into skirmisher formations. As much as Star Force had adapted to the Hadarak, the Hadarak were adapting to them as well…though not enough to get the job done. Just to make it harder, and today was going to be a hard day for Kli’merack. C’fad could feel it in the tip of his tail.

He calculated the arrival time of the Wardens and where the planetary rotation would fall, then gave the evacuation order for the slice of the planet that would be facing the jumpline at that time, for if they were going to ram they had to do it off an interplanetary jump, otherwise they wouldn’t have the speed needed to be effective.

Within seconds of his command, the small V’kit’no’sat cities in the danger zone began disconnecting from the permanent infrastructure built up around them, with the elongated diamond-shape city centers eventually activing their anti-grav and floating up out of their berthings, leaving diamond craters in the infrastructure as every person stationed there was evacuated while the bulk of the defenses stayed put, fed by subsurface power lines that didn’t rely on the city reactor cores that were now leaving the predicted impact zone.

Sentinel-class defense stations in orbit also repositioned, some moving out of the way while others moved into flanking positions on the jumpline. They were also diamond-shaped and completely unmanned. Massive remotely controlled weapon platforms that Star Force had developed back during the war between the V’kit’no’sat and Star Force, and now since the merging of the two former enemies and the combining of their technology and ingenuity, the Sentinel platforms had become far more deadly.

Ramming aside, a single Sentinel was an even slugging match with a tier 2 Warden, even when it got into grapple range. Special capacitors would dump energy into negation fields for when the Warden would wrap its tentacles around the stations and try to crush them, buying time for the weaponry to dig into the target. If it got to the Hadarak center first, the Hadarak would die and the Sentinel would win. If the capacitors were drained first, the Hadarak tentacles would crush the station and the Hadarak would win.

Never in the history of the independent V’kit’no’sat had there existed such a weapons platform or warship that could stand against a Warden on its own, but now they were common across this system and throughout the Grand Border. The current killcount for Star Force in this seemingly never-ending war was 2,928,217 Wardens to date, though that number would be slightly higher due to the lag effect of all the Grand Border systems communicating with each other, for all had interstellar transmitters. Big ones. Redundant ones. So information flowed rapidly around the rough ring that was the Grand Border while branching out through the Star Force Core region through Star Force systems.

But every single system in the Grand Border territory was owned by the V’kit’no’sat. Even the ones without planets. There was no exception. There could be no exception. So C’fad had killcounts updated regularly as the information flowed around the galaxy, but the Warden deaths that were occurring in Hadarak territory itself would not be reported until a ship came back, and there were both V’kit’no’sat fleets out there in nearby systems hunting down Hadarak fleets as they tried to assemble large numbers to launch against individual systems, as well as High Guard fleets roaming further out.

Those fleets rarely lost ships, for they were not supposed to fight hard battles. They were supposed to poach moments of opportunity while preserving their numbers. Numbers that were growing to the point where Star Force could finally launch an invasion of Hadarak territory itself…but they couldn’t do that until they had the High Guard numbers so large they could take the fight to the Hadarak without the V’kit’no’sat…who had to stand guard on the Grand Border with most of their fleets.

That’s why the High Guard was only assisting and thinning the enemy numbers before they slammed into the Grand Border. It was the V’kit’no’sat’s job to take the hits and stop any breakthroughs from occurring, no matter what the cost.

Retreat was not an option…but neither was needless deaths. That’s why every city was mobile, and the planetary defenses were configured to do their job with little to no maintenance crews. This planet had been designed to fight and, if necessary, die to stop the Hadarak. In 12,793 years that C’fad had been stationed here, there had been three Hadarak incursions into this system that had gotten beyond the system defense fleet. None had breached the planetary shields, and a piece of the corpse of one of the dead Wardens from those assaults still orbited the planet waiting for Clan Kai’sa to come and strip it of the remaining Yeg’gor for use in their Zedas.

They had been here and left before using it all, and as disgusting as it was tearing apart a corpse, it was necessary. Yeg’gor was so valuable it couldn’t be wasted, though C’fad found the continuing carnage in the way the Hadarak fought distasteful. There was no honor, no professionality, no skill. It was all visceral lashing out at the enemy with a little strategy thrown in. Their ‘ships’ were living, and expected to die. The Oso’lon often wondered what their mission was, beyond these units here. What were the Spice Lords that controlled them trying for? Purge the galaxy of all life for what reason? They didn’t value their own lives, not the way they fought, so what was their purpose in all this?

It could be a basic self-preservation directive, killing everyone else before they had a chance to kill you. He’d seen that in many primitive races, and not because they were necessarily bad people, but because it had been encoded into their genetic blueprints as default instructions that they had never ascended beyond. But for a race as powerful as the Hadarak, he couldn’t see them being that mentally primitive.

C’fad had wracked his brain many times trying to figure out a possible mindset for them, but he hadn’t come up with anything that matched the way they fought. It was almost mindless violence for violence sake, with no respect for the sovereignty of the individual. He’d been told the V’kit’no’sat had been like that once, at least in part, but that was before he’d been hatched. He’d been born into the Star Force V’kit’no’sat, developed in one of their maturias, then had taken the call of duty upon himself and transferred to the Grand Border, putting himself into danger as he continued his training here, on this very planet, and eventually rose to become planetary defense commander while many of his peers transferred to other systems.

But this was his home, and right now there were not one, but four Wardens coming his way, and he doubted he had the ability to stop them all…but his forces weren’t helpless.

The tract of the Hadarak on approach put them a few minutes apart from one another, and before the first one arrived minions came through, decelerating as best they could, but they smashed into the planetary shields and killed themselves instantly…save for those that were clinging to the sides of the mainline units that had the engine power to fully decelerate into the overlapping firepower of C’fad’s planetary defense fleet, which was backed up by 34 of his 93 Sentinels that were now in firing range of the jumpline.

He’d ordered no Essence weaponry to be used until the Wardens arrived, but other than that he let his people do their job without micromanaging. They knew the stakes and how to combat this assault, so he watched and waited for some alteration that he needed to order, but every single one of the incoming ‘small’ Hadarak were vaporized within seconds of their arrival into planetary orbit, with the debris spreading out into a growing cloud that the first of the Wardens punched through so fast you couldn’t see it. Suddenly there was a hole in the debris cloud with a shockwave punching outward attesting to something that had passed through, though there was nothing left to see.

At least not in high orbit. But in middle orbit there were large ‘sails’ of mobile dampening field emitters stretched out across the jumpline. Some 149 of them that the 220 mile wide tier 2 Hadarak hit and ripped through, then it stuck on the upper part of the planetary dampening field, which finished fully negating its momentum with little effort. Once it stopped there lances came up from the surface and down from the Sentinels, burning holes into the Hadarak through conventional means as well as Essence.

The Essence ones did the most damage, punching through to its core within seconds as the Hadarak couldn’t move as the dampening fields had augments that pinned it in place, but as it quickly died it released all its internal minions, pumping clouds of the living ships out as the Sentinels and planetary defense weaponry began picking them off rapidly, for none were able to get through the planetary shields that the Warden had not been able to get to.

Before that cleanup was over the second Warden arrived, with the ‘sails’ having barely recharged at all. They slowed it down a little, but the tier 1 Warden got further than the first did, penetrating deep into the dampening shields before it was stopped and skewered very near the dead one that was being lifted further into orbit by several Sentinels with grapple beams so the dampening shields didn’t have to hold it aloft.

They didn’t even have time to start moving the tier 1 when another tier 2 came slamming through, overloading the dampening field and hitting the planetary defense shield so hard the Hadarak visibly deformed, with the front of its egg-shaped body crumpling before the shield finally broke, then the massive 189 mile wide mass hit the surface and crushed two cities along with their weaponry, shield generators, and dampening emitters.

It also punched down into the crust, creating a huge impact crater that spawned instantaneous volcanoes around the perimeter as the 5 mile thick crust fought to keep the far larger Hadarak aloft, with it half sinking into the magma below before the latent momentum finally was negated.

C’fad cringed when he saw the damage to the planet, but he knew it was inconsequential compared to what was coming. The system defense fleet had kept the other Hadarak occupied, but there was still one more Warden coming in a minute and 32 seconds. And the sails, dampening field, and planetary shield were all down or at low power.

Which meant it was going to ram at nearly full speed.

“All cities take flight now!” he ordered planetwide, hoping this wasn’t going to be necessary, but fearing otherwise.

The seconds ticked by, during which he watched the volcanoes continue to spew lava out so high it tickled the underside of the reforming planetary defense shield supported by other cities extending their portions to cover those that were now toast. And though he didn’t order it, three of the Sentinel stations moved into the approach corridor, hoping to absorb some of the impact speed.

One of them disappeared in the blink of an eye, but the computers logged the collision and the speed reduction it equated. It slowed down the ramming Hadarak by 7%, but the 243 mile wide mass could not be easily stopped, and it punched down through the sails, dampening field, and planetary shield as if they were not even there.

Then it hit the surface and pushed through the planetary crust like a rock dropping into a pond of water.

C’fad didn’t breathe for a moment, hoping it was that simple, but he knew there would be a reaction from the planet…and he wasn’t wrong. A sub-surface ripple belatedly formed, causing a land tsunami as the hard rock covered with dirt and trees and cities suddenly became visibly liquid and spread outward as a huge amount of bright red magma shot out the impact zone at such bounceback speed that it easily reached orbit and kept going, rising up past the Sentinel stations and achieving escape velocity, meaning it was going so fast gravity would not be able to pull it back down again.

That didn’t concern C’fad, it was the surface. The ripple wasn’t slowing, moving across thousands of miles in a matter of minutes, and when it hit his cities it didn’t spare them. The surrounding infrastructure was crushed as the diamond-shaped city cores desperately tried to rise up fast enough to avoid the land wave.

Most made it, but he saw two get hit by the crests, bouncing the cities upward. One kept rising, but another broke apart and fell back down, landing in the chunks of crust that were moving around randomly in the backwash as magma began shooting up at random spots.

C’fad mentally linked into the system and found the nearest vessels and ordered them down to the site, hoping to pull some people out of that mess as he began to get reports from other cities that had just made it up before the wave hit that not everyone had been evacuated in time. Some had been in the surrounding infrastructure and could not make it back.

The Oso’lon smacked his tail onto the floor multiple times as he cursed himself. He hadn’t expected that much depletion of his defenses, otherwise he would have ordered more cities to evacuate. He’d calculated the shields to hold up through the third impact, but they hadn’t. Why?

As he organized the rescue ships and watched the land wave continue across a third of the planet’s surface, all the while causing earthquakes and volcanic activity across the rest of the planet, he studied the analytical data coming in from his people as they were already in the process of analyzing everything that had just happened…all the while the defense fleet was chasing the remaining minions from the second and third Hadarak across the planet now that the shields were down and they appeared to be going after the floating cities.

They could defend themselves, so C’fad wasn’t worried about that. He’d just massively screwed up and he needed to know why.

It wasn’t readily apparent, but some 28 minutes later someone found the reason and updated the battlemap.

It was the minions that had preceded the 4 Wardens. They’d essentially been a waste of resources, or so he’d mistakenly thought. Those minions had somehow destabilized the energy shield, for he’d ordered them to be let through the sails and dampening fields, for he didn’t want to waste any energy on them.

Analysis was coming in fast as others picked up on the discovery and added to it. Apparently those minions were not standard varieties, or at least not all of them. Mixed into the group were goo-carriers, and when they splattered against the shield they released some sort of compound that interfered with the shield…and they’d done so in the exact spot the 3rd one had hit.

There was nothing left to analyze, other than the third Hadarak itself, which was still alive and half buried in the planet. The Sentinels were working on it, using only conventional weapons to save as much Essence as they could. The last Warden was probably dead, but there was no way to tell. It was deep inside the planet now, beyond where sensors could see it, and telepathically the V’kit’no’sat were not picking anything up. Either that was because it was dead, too deep, or masked in some way.

C’fad knew he had to prepare for it showing up again, but these minions had to be addressed. There was no proof of their goo still remaining, just the limited sensor records that were not helpful other than to identify that the stuff had remained on the shields in a cloying manner rather than deflecting back up off it after collision.

But the shields hadn’t registered any problems with the goo on them. It was the collision that landed with more force than expected, despite speed and mass numbers, which was impossible unless those numbers were inaccurate.

It had to be the goo. Or did it? Was there something else going on here?

Whatever the case was, Kli’merack was devastated. A third of the planet’s surface was gone, reduced to rocky soup, and the rest was crumpled and bulging up into new mountain ranges while forcing the small pair of oceans into new locations, sweeping across the surface and taking the trees and wildlife with it in a water tsunami that looked pathetically small compared to the now subsided land one, but it was deadly enough on its own.

The Oso’lon dropped a cascade of tears from his lofty head, with them falling and splattering on the floor with tiny audible impacts as the entire command deck was deathly quiet. Whatever work was going on was being done mentally, while those that had nothing to do at the moment just stared at the orbital visuals of the devastation.

This had happened on other worlds in the Grand Border, though not often. And each time it happened the V’kit’no’sat worked to find countermeasures, and for the past 821 years no Warden had reached the surface of a planet in the Grand Border.

Two had just done so, with the second being the killshot to the planet.

The V’kit’no’sat had to take the hits for the rest of the galaxy, but until today C’fad had never truly understood what that meant.

He did now.

And he was still not leaving.

This was his home, wrecked as it was, but most of his people were still alive in the floating cities and they would rebuild. Meanwhile the system defense fleet was still fighting more Hadarak, including Wardens, in near the star. And more could be coming this way if they broke through.

So C’fad did what was needed, organizing the intact cities and making sure they had a workable defense shield over that part of the planet. He moved the Sentinels in position to cover it, deployed his warships into seek and destroy patrols for the remaining minions while the rescue crews pulled out a few survivors…but most of those unaccounted for were dead, though their bodies would not be recovered in the mess as the surface was still moving and swallowing up parts of the downed city, not to mention the permanent infrastructure that was in pieces everywhere in the land wave zone, assuming it hadn’t sunken down into the magma oceans forming on the surface.

It was a hellish world now, transformed in a matter of hours, but it was still his home. And the V’kit’no’sat were not leaving. Their duty was to hold the line, and this system could not become a foothold for the Hadarak.

So as long as one city remained intact on the surface, they would stay and defend it…while slowly rebuilding what was lost.

But it hurt. Far more than he expected. And rather than succumb to despair, he let it fuel his anger.

The Hadarak had to be stopped. This insanity could not be allowed to continue.

And the sooner the High Guard built up their forces to the number they needed the better, but it was too late for Kli’merack. This was a loss, but not a total loss as long as the rest of the system held.

And C’fad had to live with that loss. He would not allow himself to be reassigned now, even if they wanted him to. This was his mess, this was his home, and he was not going to abandon his duty post now. This is what it meant to be V’kit’no’sat, the bad part of it, but he accepted it.

He was a guardian of the galaxy, for better or worse, and he didn’t regret that. It hurt, but he wouldn’t have anyone else here in his place. He could take it. He could take it for the galaxy, for the other Oso’lon he was shielding behind the Border.

And for the Oso’lon that died here. If he crumpled after the loss, he would be betraying them. He would not allow the Hadarak that secondary victory.

“We took the hit,” he said on planetary-wide comm, “and we still own the planet. Battle is not over, and we are not defeated. We are wounded,” he said, choking up a bit. “Address the wounds, save what can be saved, and work the situation for the best secondary outcome we can manage. This is not the aftermath. This is round two, and we must take advantage of what time and resources we have. We do not surrender. We do not fold. We do not cower. We are V’kit’no’sat, and we take the hits so the rest of the galaxy can remain safe enough to build an invasion force that will wipe this scourge from the face of the galaxy once and for all! We have done our duty, and we will continue to do it. If Oso’lon cannot hold ourselves together, we cannot expect others to. We are superior in fact, not appearance. Let the galaxy judge us by the merits of how we respond to this loss, not on the fact that it occurred. No one failed their duty, we were overwhelmed. There is no shame in that, but there is pain. And we will carry this pain into the next battle and the next, but we will not become weary. We will become victorious, and today is the cost of our eventual victory, for the enemy gives us no other options than to pay it or to buckle and let the entire galaxy fall.”

“The galaxy shall not fall. Not under our protection. We will rise, and it will rise with us. When we get knocked down, we get up again. Today your orders are to get up again. The rest will take care of itself afterward,” C’fad said, ending the comm and getting a slew of telepathic responses from the Oso’lon around him…all of which were positive and reinforcing. They had needed that, and so did he, but the damage could not be denied, and was still ongoing as the planet tried to come to grips with the new physics of its internal alignment.

And almost as an afterthought, the Oso’lon noted that the planet’s orbit had slightly shifted outward, with the system navigational maps updating in response…

2

October 18, 154929

Ha’ven Nu’meori System (Home Two Kingdom)

Ha’shavi

“And what about when you find victims you didn’t even know existed?” Paul asked Cal-com as they walked on the non-Star Force world of Ha’shavi, one of four in this system that belonged to the independent Tri’meori race.

“Proper foresight can eliminate many of them, though not all,” the Voku said as the pair walked in heavy robes to hide their alien physique from most casual onlookers. Ha’shavi wasn’t isolated to the point that there weren’t other races here visiting for commerce and the like, but Star Force was not popular amongst the population, so both men were trying to keep a low profile and did most of their navigating by Pefbar rather than eyesight as their hoods were draped so low they could see little more than the meter of ground in front of them.

“And you just ignore the remainder?”

Cal-com’s head turned slightly as they walked side by side down a relatively busy street that was for foot traffic only, but not so crowded that they had to walk single file.

“Do you truly believe we were that barbaric?”

“You did serve the Zak’de’ron, and when it suits them they are quite barbaric,” Paul countered.

“And we cannot control the universe, let alone our own fate in some circumstances. I fear you have put too much on your shoulders, and that impossible weight is clouding your judgement.”

“I don’t like giving up on anyone, no matter how small.”

“It’s not a matter of giving up,” Cal-com explained calmly. “It’s acknowledging that you cannot save them. You and I both have ascended to the point that we will never stop trying to save those in need, so those words are not going to be misdirection amongst us. To others they would be, for you know there are situations where it feels you have to will a path into existence where none appears to be possible.”

“I have been attempting that far too often I think…the trouble is I often succeed and cannot bear the thought of not always trying.”

“And there again you feel the fate of others is your responsibility. When you take on a ward, and you fail that ward, it affects you. That is why you must not mentally assume such responsibility even if your actions do not differ. You can seek to help people without being responsible for them.”

“I am sick of it, Cal-com,” Paul finally admitted. “I am truly sick of it.”

“Which part do you speak of?”

“Not being able to permanently save people. Every victory can be washed away, and I know that’s not true for many reasons, but in some ways it is true and I cannot shake that I am not doing something right. If people are going to die eventually, why work so hard to keep them alive another week, or year, or century? I do it out of spite, mostly, and will continue to do so because it needs to be done, but I can’t feel a purpose anymore.”

“A purpose or a path?”

“A long term purpose,” Paul corrected. “It feels like I’m buying time for no reason.”

“You should not have spent so many millennia in the warzone with the Hadarak.”

“What I did saved lives. More than anyone else could.”

“And who will save those a million years from now when you are gone because you didn’t attend to your own path?”

“Those words sound familiar. Did I say something like that previously?”

“You did. Why do you not apply it to yourself?”

Paul sighed as he sidestepped to avoid one of the taller natives whose hips were the height of his shoulders.

“Logically I should…but everything I do now is logic. I have no feel. Yet I sense that my logic is incomplete in some way.”

“It is never complete. You can only analyze based on the data you have, which is why one logical person can see something another cannot. It is not a failure in logic, but a lack of the prerequisites for a greater understanding.”

“What am I lacking?”

“It could be you have ascended to a level I have not, and my naivety is keeping my vision clear.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“What do you sense around you?” Cal-com asked, also using his Ikrid to peek into the unshielded minds of the natives and their commercial immigrants.

“People at the beginning of their lives who know little, and the more they learn the more hopeless they become. They think the young have it best, because that is when they see some hope. Adulthood, as they view it, is dark and dirty and full of betrayal.”

“What else?”

“They feel more than think. Their instincts drive them, and what little learning they do to take control over their lives is without wisdom and makes things worse in most cases.”

“Do they want to live?”

“Yes.”

“How much so?”

“It’s what drives them the most, though they don’t realize it.”

“Everyone is so eager to live, though they don’t understand why they’re here, what they’re doing, or how to go about it. The same is true on Star Force worlds, but it is amplified here because their culture is not based on truth but tradition, myth, propaganda, and many other deviants from reality. They fake most things, and when they do so they lose sight of reality, and in doing so they can’t calibrate. The lies are literally choking them to death, but they use them to gain advantage, position, or out of panic to avoid pain and punishment. They are newbs in the game of life, but they have something you lack.”

“And that is?”

“Motivation.”

Paul wanted to deny that, because compared to these people he was probably more motivated than the entire planet combined. “In what way?”

“You’re numb, and it’s because of a wound you cannot heal. The carnage of the galaxy creates such wounds, for I have seen it before, and suffered from it myself. The key to fixing your sight is by making yourself small again, and simply observing. So stop using your telepathy. Simply observe with your senses, and see if they are telling you the same things.”

“Will you monitor for danger?”

Cal-com huffed. “Why are you so afraid? They are no threat to you.”

“Even Goku can be taken down if attacked when he doesn’t see it coming.”

“That worries you?”

“I fear my luck will run out before I figure out what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Then I will watch so you may relax. You are almost in a state of paranoia that you have probably annexed into an advantage, if I know your habits. Did you ever take a day off onboard your Excalibur?”

“What’s that?”

“You’ve never made yourself small and just disappeared into the masses,” Cal-com criticized. “You’ve been fighting with space monsters so much you’ve started to think on their level. Not everything here is trying to kill you, and with your skills you can handle what is. I will telepathically scan so you do not. Let down your ranged senses. Turn off everything else, including your Pefbar. If there is a threat I will deal with it. Just walk and observe.”

“While blind?”

“If your psionics are interfering with your navigation, perhaps your reliance on them is blinding you more than not using them.”

“Becoming small,” Paul said, trying to scale down his natural sensory awareness…which was not easy.

“No talking for a while. Just be yourself, with your sphere of responsibility ending at the boundaries of your skin. Observe but do not take responsibility for anything else. Continue this way until we come to the bridge.”

Paul nodded, knowing that Cal-com could see the gesture under his robe if he had his Pefbar active, which he would. He knew his friend’s psionic, combat, and Essence skills made him one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy, even if he couldn’t hold a candle to Paul’s skills. That was enough for his subconscious mind to give him permission to be reckless and let his guard down, for he knew Cal-com did not have a sense of humor about these things, and if he said he would stay alert then he would, for there was no duplicity between them, even for the sake of humor.

So Paul just walked beside him, unable to see more than a meter in front of his feet, and oddly his Jedi-like robe seemed comforting around him, for it blocked out all of the universe except the little patch before him. He couldn’t see out, and other than Cal-com nobody could see in. He was alone here, which was totally illogical. The fabric offered almost no armor protection at all, but as far as his basic senses told him he was safely alone inside his robe.

The absurdity of that made Paul think, for his senses didn’t lie. Why would he feel this way if it wasn’t true? If they were giving a false sense, that sense had to link to something real…

He took in a deep breath. Cal-com was right. It wasn’t his surrounding environment that he was blocked from, it was the universe. Or more accurately this galaxy, which he was responsible for.

But right here, right now, he was only responsible for what was inside the robe. And nobody could see inside…and what they couldn’t see they couldn’t intentionally mess with. So the lack of vision was itself a form of armor.

Anonymity. It was a concept Paul was well acquainted with, but for some reason he’d never…

Damn you, Wilson, he thought, trying to remember the last time he’d actually relaxed his guard. It was back during his original basic training, just before the Black Knight started randomly ambushing them during challenges. They’d learned quickly that there was no ‘safe’ time, and an attack could come from anywhere…particularly in ways you didn’t expect. You did your job so well I’m still on edge after all this time.

Realizing that, Paul made the decision to fully trust in Cal-com and truly let down his defenses. He didn’t want to. A part of him screamed no, that it was reckless and as soon as he did the bad luck monkey was sure to pop out and smack him in the head with his mallet…perhaps lethally…but Paul did anyway, closing his eyes entirely and walking by feel and sound alone for several steps until he bumped shoulders with Cal-com.

He opened his eyes again to right himself, resisting the habit of using his Pefbar to see where he was. Now that they had walked a ways, he literally did not know where they were…and that was refreshing. He was lost. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been lost.

He could fly up above the city streets and have a look around, but that would defeat the point. He didn’t know where they were now, exactly. He knew there was a bridge ahead, but he didn’t know how close they were, which stores they were passing by, or what was ahead of him on the street, or what was coming up from behind.

Paul’s head hurt, but in a good way, as if a pressure was being released from it, and he thought he finally understood what Cal-com meant by becoming ‘small.’

He walked in silence, watching his footsteps and the bit of Cal-com’s robe that he could see off his right foot for guidance, and just trusted his friend to take him where they needed and to keep him safe…which was something he hadn’t done in a very, very long time.

“We’re here,” Cal-com said, walking up to a railing and stopping. “Raise your hood and look.”

Paul did as ordered, coming out of his fabric cave a bit and seeing the river ahead of him with all manner of lights traveling on it as small boats moved up and down it like a highway. The fuel they used produced a not so pleasant smell, and Paul’s nose cringed as he got a whiff of it from one passing directly underneath the bridge, but he didn’t move. He just stood there and looked, feeling his personal universe had just extended greatly…but nothing he saw he was responsible for. He was simply watching and soaking it in.

“It looks different now.”

“How?” Cal-com asked.

“I see more detail. Little things I wouldn’t have cared to notice before because they weren’t relevant. The colors of the boats. The way the light shimmers off the water, daring you to connect the various colors to their sources.”

“You don’t see that in Pefbar.”

“You’re right. I think I’ve been relying on it more than my eyes.”

“And Pefbar allows you to touch everything, establishing a quasi-physical connection. But your eyes, and ears, and nose are simply receivers for emissions. You’re not down there on those boats, but you can see them. Sight without connection.”

“You didn’t have Pefbar with the Voku. So how did you have this problem?”

“We didn’t. Ours was a different problem. A problem of not caring enough because of lack of data. We were taught we needed to feel the galaxy in person to know how best to interact with it. Analyzing holograms and graphs and numbers are not sufficient to develop a feel, and it is our feelings that most likely are tied to our Core in some way. The Elders did not say that, exactly, but I have made a tentative connection since then. Our instincts are not wholly genetic memory.”

“So why do they not respond to our psionics? Why do I need this disconnect…which by the way I do. You were right. I just don’t understand why, though I can feel it.”

“And it’s that feeling you have been lacking?”

“I seem to have reversed myself,” Paul admitted.

“Two different points of view that one needs to be able to switch back and forth between to get a better calibration to reality.”

“And on the bridge of a flagship you can only get one perspective.”

“Indeed. I thought Archons understood this, given your 5 different military disciplines.”

“I’ve maintained all five onboard the ship, so I thought I had plenty of perspective,” Paul said sarcastically.

“As complex as the universe is, I don’t think you can ever have enough perspectives.”

“Wise words to remember. I don’t understand them, but I know they’re important.”

“What else concerns you?”

“I feel right for a reason I cannot understand, and it’s as if I must turn off my logic and experience to get that feeling.”

“That only means your logic is limited, and in order to match it to your feeling it must advance. Until then it is limiting you.”

“Do you know why?”

“You are wiser than me, so unfortunately I do not.”

Paul raised one of his hands up enough that his fingertips poked out of the long sleeves enough for him to look at his fingernails. He used to bite them, a long time ago, but had kicked the habit when he chewed a little too deeply once and they started to bleed. The Archon raised his hand to his mouth and rubbed his teeth on his index finger, not biting but filing one down a bit, with the sensation kicking in some old memories he’d thought were long gone.

“I went too deep out of a need to help others,” he said some minutes later as they both stood and watched the boat traffic pass underneath them. “Because I thought helping save as many lives as possible was the top priority. My logic says it still is, but my instincts say no.”

“That I can help you with. Would you murder an individual if that death would save 10 million?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s wrong.”

“Then your top priority is not to save the most lives. If it was, you would have gone darkside a long time ago in order to achieve that mission. All invariably do, for saving the most lives requires making sacrifices. It requires betrayal, for you must trade some for others.”

“But you don’t own them, which means they’re not yours to trade.”

“If saving lives was the top priority, it wouldn’t matter. Only what you had the power to do or not do.”

“Are you familiar with a vaccine?” Paul asked as an old memory resurfaced.

“No. What is it?”

“Something Earth used to use before Star Force. They would deliberately infect you with a virus, theoretically in a weakened state, so your body would fight it and win and create antibodies to make you immune to the virus later.”

“But there is no such thing as immunity to an errant virus unless the transmission method is blocked.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t know that back then. Or at least they didn’t tell us that. I learned later, through Star Force records, that the vaccines were maiming and killing a lot of people, but the governments covered it up and protected the vaccine makers because they felt the benefit to the populace outweighed the losses. They were willing to betray a few thousand to save a few million…or potentially save.”

“Did Star Force stop them?”

“Eventually. But I remember them saying on the news…back when it was more propaganda than actual facts…that the highest priority was in saving lives, and that no cost was too great to do so. I guess I had somehow taken the same notion with a caveat. Saving the most lives while maintaining your honor. And it’s dishonorable to kill a few to save millions…especially when those millions aren’t actually saved. But even if they were, and it was guaranteed they’d live forever, it still wouldn’t be right.”

“So the top priority is not to save lives, it’s to do the right thing?” Cal-com asked. “Didn’t Earth’s Klingons have a few words on that subject?”

“Death before dishonor, which they often noted when faced with a situation that seemed to force them to do something cowardly or die with the words ‘today is a good day to die.’”

“They turned the logic trap around on those attempting to leverage them into doing bad things for the sake of saving lives?”

“The Klingons didn’t actually exist. You know that, right?”

“I do, but the way you have spoken of them before they seemed important enough to have been real.”

“They weren’t big on saving lives. More about saving face. But they didn’t back down from a hard fight. They preferred it to stagnation….or actually they just preferred it period.”

“And you admire that?”

“When you grow up amongst a culture of weaklings, liars, and manipulators, sometimes it’s refreshing just to be able to punch a person in the face as a way of saying ‘hi’ rather than it being a crime. Things were really messed up back then, and I didn’t even realize most of it at the time.”

“You’ve never spoken of that before.”

“Problems solved and gone,” Paul said with a shrug. “Davis showed us a worthy path when he created Star Force. I guess I still owe him for that, though I’d forgotten. I’ve forgotten a lot, it seems.”

“If you lose your way, it is wise to backtrack until you find your proper path again, then follow it where it leads.”

“Is that why you brought me here? Because this planet is in bad shape.”

“We’re warriors. We go where the need is, and there is need here. We don’t think well when problems are theoretical. We need to feel them out.”

“There’s nothing here that can’t be solved with some annexation.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Good question. Now that I’m here I’m wondering why we haven’t myself, though I know the logistical reasons.”

“And that is why we must go to where the orbital bombardment will hit rather than relying on scouting reports.”

“We don’t need to bombard them to take over, you know?”

“Same principle. You just found better ways of doing it.”

“But if we annex this place, and the problems are solved, we will lose our purpose…or that’s how it felt before. Now I’m not so sure.”

“It’s because you’re here rather than onboard your ship imagining it. Imagination is limited to what you know. Exploration has no such limitations.”

“Then let’s keep exploring, if you’ll be my eyes so I don’t trip over anything. These robes are horrible for situational awareness.”

“But good for concealment. No one has noticed you are Human. And they don’t even know what a Voku is.”

“Let’s keep it that way. Lead on, my friend…”

3

October 18, 154929

Bo’vu’ma’shu System (Hadarak territory)

8th planet

A brilliant topaz beam shot down from the sky, momentarily blinding Esna-58321JOR-18 as her helmet faceplate switched to an alternate view that showed silhouettes of the enemy minions in the valley below for a split second before switching back to normal when the beam was gone.

It landed farther up the valley, disintegrating a tunnel entrance where a stream of Hadarak minions were pouring out…but it didn’t stay destroyed, for within seconds more pushed their way up through the ashes of their kin and into the valley as they charged with the others towards the defense line surrounding one of Clan Kai’sa’s 4 mining sites on the enemy-held planet.

Esna was standing on the defense wall along with thousands of her troops, but she wasn’t leading them. There were Archons here that were handling that, and they were far more skilled than her. She’d learned early on to defer to them in almost everything while she planned out their conquests and considered the myriad of ideas being sent to her for upgrades and new ways of fighting the enemy.

None of that had to do with her being on the planet. She was here to fight rather than sit in one of the three Zedas in orbit…which is where the topaz beams were coming from as they provided cover fire for the mining site. The weapon itself, a Zotark, was specifically designed to fight biological enemies and not energy shields. It was one of many specializations Clan Kai’sa had made in their equipment that gave them an advantage over the Hadarak that would be a disadvantage against other opponents.

But there were no other opponents here. This entire system was owned by the Hadarak, though Esna’s troops had done a great deal of damage to them since arriving some 8 months ago. They’d wiped out their naval forces, cleared the orbit of all planets of their infestation constructions, and toppled those rising up from the planets…yet they were not in a position to cleanse them of all Hadarak, especially those burrowed deep into the planet. That was not their mission here, for the assault to reclaim the galaxy from these monsters had not yet begun.

What Esna was doing was growing her Clan, and doing it by utilizing the rich resources on the planets that had once been held by others and were now completely consumed by the Hadarak. This planet had formerly been home to a primitive race that had no idea of the Corovon deposits buried in the planet, but others had noticed it and tried to take it from them previously. A lot of history later and some interventions by stronger races had seen the system still in the hands of the primitives when the Hadarak arrived, and now the natives were extinct. None had been evacuated. They had all died, with no means of interstellar travel to get even one of them out of the warzone.

The Hadarak were consuming the Corovon, and Esna was both denying some of it to them as well as claiming it for her own. But to get it out she had to put mining stations on the planet and defend them from the Hadarak armies who were not going to tolerate their presence. Hence the defense wall and the super-sized moon hovering in the sky above them that was continuing to fire down near the mining infrastructure at the enemy troops continually gaining in number.

Same old, same old. They were not going to stop, and they had no reinforcements that were different than before. It was just endless carnage that had to be fought, and the rewards were the Corovon deposits that would help build addition weapons, armor, and more Zedas. So the longer they held here, the more they would get, and even as the hundreds of thousands of minions surrounded the circular perimeter, occasional dropships were coming and going from the site as any flying minions were downed by the anti-air turrets before they could get within 8 miles of the wall.

They weren’t trying that approach much, and were sticking with the overland version. Esna was here with rifle in hand along with a lot of Commandos from many races, all of which were now in the purple/deep gray armor of Clan Kai’sa as they waited for the next wave to get within firing range.

The wall turrets opened up before then, for they had better range, and began blasting into the biological enemies and creating bloody explosions that left orange, red, green, and purple mist clouds based on the type of minion that was being killed. The Hadarak had many different varieties, and it was assumed they had been created from other races that were either absorbed and reformed, or genetic coding that was taken and used as inspiration for new minion forms.

They came in bipeds, quadrupeds, hexpeds, hoppers, runners, plodders, and crawlers, with more versions than the Paladin could ever hope to dream of. But they were all the same in design. Biological, no technology, no shields. Just claws, teeth, poison, acid, a few biological energy weapons, and sheer muscle. They were deadly in a very primitive way, but their coordination was not primitive. They operated both individually and with a partial hive mind as certain individuals acted as leaders. Taking those out could help somewhat, but there were none that were critical to the battle. Everything was redundant and expected to die, so the only way to beat them was to engage in the carnage and kill them faster than they could kill you.

And as many as the wall turrets killed, more ran by their dead kin heading for the wall and began taking shots from Esna and the others, who were peppering them with tiny Dre’mo’don blobs that absolutely wrecked their bodies when they hit those without armor. Some tore straight through and came out the other side with energy to spare, but the minions that had biological armor on them cracked and puffed disintegrated material when the shots hit, creating a cloud that obscured those behind…but the targets themselves kept moving forward and were clearly visible up until they fell and were run over by those behind them.

Beside Esna several Commandos pulled out rocket launchers from their back racks and started popping slow moving globs of pink energy out in an arc to land amongst the leaders, not even needing to hit them as the ‘easter eggs’ hit the ground and detonated, creating concussion waves that knocked the minions away from the epicenters so much they toppled like bowling pins, but most didn’t die. It was more disruption unless they were weak versions, or they took a direct hit, and the ‘Egg Poppers’ were one of many specialized Commando weapons that had proven effective at disrupting the horde in the past.

Esna took aim at one that was momentarily on the ground, putting 7 shots into it before it leapt forward onto its feet and ran a few steps before collapsing and getting tramped by those coming up from behind. She switched her aim to one of them and repeated the process until her rifle ran out of ammo, then she grabbed an extra clip from her pack and reloaded in about 3 seconds. After that she was back to firing again as a few of the lucky minions made it all the way up to the wall and swung at it with their limbs, some firing acid, but none of it got past the energy shield covering the physical wall.

They didn’t last long, with the troops focusing on them while the wall cannons kept their fire further away to disrupt the waves coming in rather than getting caught fighting at pointblank range. That had happened before, and Esna had quickly updated her Clan’s fighting profile to prefer breaking up the attacking waves rather than obsessing over shooting the closest enemies.

Those closer enemies swelled a bit, and some climbed on each other to jump up to the top of the wall only to get swatted down by dampening fields, Archons using their psionics, specialized weapons, etc. But once there were too many, and the wall itself was at risk of being overtopped, one of the Archons signaled the cease fire and Esna pulled back from the wall as the Hadarak continued to jump up towards them.

But the energy field covering the wall now extended up well into the air, stopping the jumpers but also stopping the Star Force troops from firing back, including the cannons that were now covered with the shield as well. A few seconds later Esna could hear the charge building as the energy field grew more and more opaque, almost to the point of not being able to see what was on the other side, then it discharged, pushing outwards as a solid wall and throwing all the minions and their corpses back some 340 meters where they piled up, dead and alive alike, and the shield dropped back down to cover only the physical wall as it began to store up enough charge to repeat the process again.

When it dropped Esna pulled her rifle back up and over the edge of the wall, leaning it on the top rim to give her better aim than free handing it. She fired, over and over again, doing her small part along with everyone else without leading. She was in charge of the entire Clan, but in this battle she was just another Commando. One with basic psionics, but nowhere near the skill level of the Archons and Mavericks here.

She would not being going back to leading from afar. And if she died there were others who could easily take her place. Esna wasn’t exactly expendable, but her loss wouldn’t kill the Clan and that gave her a sense of peace at putting herself on the front lines. She’d tried the ‘lead from afar’ thing, but it’s not what she was cut out for. Monarchs could do that, and Admirals, but even the Archons couldn’t really stand to be away from the hardest fights for too long. Those who were the strongest needed to be on the front lines. That was the Star Force way, and it always would be.

But it was more than that for Esna. Her indoctrination into Star Force had been in battle, on the run from the V’kit’no’sat with Rammak and just trying to stay alive. After living through that, she knew she didn’t belong anywhere else. Esna had been weak and nearly helpless then, but no longer. She wasn’t the strongest or the faster, but she was capable now, and her place was helping those that were weak and helpless, as Rammak had helped her, and there was 2/3rds of the galaxy full of helpless people that these monsters were trying to get to and kill.

And every one of these bastards she killed was one that wasn’t going to do that. Yes, they could grow more and spam more than she could kill, but they were not infinite. She knew that systems like this would slowly develop into Hadarak strongholds and begin producing other varieties of minion. Stronger ones that would then be sent forward to batter the better defended worlds. Scouts were continually bringing information back from those worlds first conquered in this purge, and the images were truly grotesque.

The planets were no longer spheres, with huge arms and webs growing out of them while others had been wiped clean of all surface features and left bare. No Hadarak were on them, and Esna knew that was because the enemy didn’t want to risk overpopulating this galaxy and bringing the Pafdreng down on them. But the Hadarak weren’t going to let anyone else have them either, and they were so far behind enemy lines no one knew they existed, for the space lanes were so full of naval Hadarak only the strongest and faster ships in the galaxy could make it through to scout the area.

To many it seemed that Esna’s Clan was fighting a pointless war, but it wasn’t. To the contrary, it was essential. Every victory made her Clan stronger, and they were good enough to know when they were in over their head and back off, so they rarely lost any of their people, and today was not going to be an exception. Esna and the others kept mowing down the Hadarak minions, then the defense wall would push them back over and over again, forming a mountain of dead that would eventually bottleneck the approaching swarms…then the Zeda overhead would raze them as they were bunched up, killing far more than the infantry could ever hope to.

All the while the mining crews continued to work below the surface, monitoring for Hadarak tunnels trying to dig underneath. Esna had her own little ‘moles’ to intercept and destroy them, so the battle was taking place both on the surface and below it. It wasn’t a battle to conquer the planet, and if Esna tried to do that she’d lose. The Hadarak had too many lairs here, and she didn’t have the personnel necessary to go after all of them. So when one fell they’d spawn more at others and you’d be fighting forever until you brought in enough troops to hit them all at once.

Clan Kai’sa would be doing that later, when the High Guard fleets were making the space lanes their own, but right now they didn’t have enough ships, so Esna had to focus on building her Clan until then, and her path to do that was in battle, taking resources from the enemy, and even their corpses in some cases. It was messy and ugly, but once they were dead they were just floating trash in space anyway, and the Yeg’gor was too valuable to pass up and just throw into a star along with the rest of their corpses.

That was the reality of this war, and if you let it consume you it was easy to lose your way, but Clan Kai’sa was not in jeopardy of that. Their homes were literally above their heads, and when they got battle fatigue from so much carnage they were recalled to the sanctuaries within the Zedas and were reacquainted with what civilization truly was. There you could recharge and denumb your senses before going back down again. Esna refused to become the enemy, and if carnage was what was necessary, then honorable carnage would be their way forward.

No Hadarak was going to be tortured. No Hadarak was going to be harvested before it was completely and long term dead. No Hadarak would be killed if it surrendered…though to date none ever had. She was not going to ‘farm’ the Hadarak. She was simply picking up resources off the battlefield from the dead, and she made sure her Clan understood that as they were constantly having to face these monsters down day in and day out.

And today was no exception. Esna ran out of ammo 9 times, meaning her pack was fully empty, and she had to be resupplied by couriers carrying ammunition up to the wall guard. Many were Rammus, but other smaller races that were not good at fighting the Hadarak directly had become part of her Clan to play support roles, and they were damn effective. Esna didn’t have to leave the wall up until the assault was over, after which drones were moved out to remove the dead Hadarak back away from the wall many miles to keep the firing lines clear.

As they did Esna retreated to one of the barracks in the mining site along with part of the Commandos while others took their place on the wall or near it, waiting for the next assault, some of which happened 3 or 4 times a day…and sometimes there would be a lag of a week between attacks.

Esna didn’t take part in all of them, nor did any of the others. They all had to rotate or risk getting burnt or flabby. They still needed to train, and standing on a wall shooting wasn’t improving anything other than their aim. So once this assault was over she took her leave and got out of her armor inside the well-shielded barracks as well as her clothes, dumping them in a sweaty pile at the foot of a shower tube in a row along with many others. No one was shy here, for this was field work and they weren’t going to build individual quarters for everyone, so there were a lot of naked Commandos getting cleaned up, but she could make the shower tube opaque if she wanted.

Esna climbed up on top and sat down, sliding her feet into the warm water as she was about to slide off the edge and go in all the way as she paused and sniffed both her armpits before she washed the sweat off.

Neutral watery smell, which meant her body was operating normally. With that quick, regular check done, she slid over the edge and dunked herself below the top of the shower tube water level, slicking her 3 inch long hair back as her head came back up and floated with her feet a few inches off the floor of the tube. She held on to the side and just soaked as her mind was still caught up with the rigors of battle, but slowly her body slowed down, then her mind followed some time later. The other Commandos were not much different, and the shower tubes served as both cleansing units as well as mini refuges from the carnage outside.

They allowed them to drop their guard and relax, and after all these millennia of repeated battles Esna had it down to a science. After only 18 minutes she was refreshed and drained the tube before climbing out and resetting it for someone else to use.

After grabbing a fresh uniform she headed over to the mining site command center and started working on her strategy stuff, linked into the orbiting Zedas so she could get information from all over the planet as the other Commandos sought out training or another round on the defense wall.

She couldn’t be out there all the time, for she was the Clan leader and it was her responsibility to put the Clan in a position to one day rid the galaxy of these monsters.

And to do that she needed more than a rifle and a good firing line.

She needed an army, and hers was growing by the year in size, experience, and technology…but it wasn’t ready yet, and Esna had to get it there before the High Guard had their fleet maxed.

When that happened, Star Force would push back. Until then, she’d play the carnage game and do it better than the Hadarak since they wouldn’t allow anything else.

For if one succumbed to the carnage, and forgot who and what they were, then the enemy won whether you died or lived, because if you lived you would become the enemy. Esna would never do that. Never could do that. Her path had made her immune to it, but she still had to deal with the stress.

Carnage was the jungle she had been born into, and while she would not become the jungle, she knew well how to exist within it. And how to do so honorably.

Once Clan Kai’sa grew large enough, the Hadarak weren’t going to stand a chance.

It was just a matter of time and a lot of hard work to get to that point.

But it was coming. And every day and every battle that passed brought her a little closer to it.

4

October 18, 154929

Ha’ven Nu’meori System (Home Two Kingdom)

Ha’shavi

Paul and Cal-com had been walking and observing for several hours with the Archon’s head feeling like it was deflating. Somehow he’d accumulated a lot of stress and had locked it in to the point he didn’t even realize it was there, but now that he was deliberately shutting off his extra senses and confining his natural ones to a sliver of vision in front of him, muffled hearing through his robe, a fully intact sense of smell that was not necessarily a good thing in some of these dirty streets, and the feel of the rough road beneath his shoes, the lockdown was cracking open and the stress was bleeding off…and a remarkable amount of it.

“Trouble,” Cal-com whispered, telepathically pointing ahead about 60 meters on the somewhat busy street full of pedestrians and no vehicles.

The crack in Paul’s mind resealed in an instant as he opened up his senses to see a scuffle happening between two of the Tri’meori as the other passersby stepped back to give them space as they beat on one another viciously, with some people tripping over each other to get out of the way as those nearest got caught up in the flailing limbs, turning over carts and spilling produce out all over the street.

Suddenly everything grew quiet…and still. Hundreds of people stopped moving, stopped talking, and froze like statues, including the two scuffling who backed off from one another only to stare at each other as they too froze.

“Is that you?” Cal-com asked.

“Yes.”

“How many are you capable of controlling?”

“More than this. Their minds are weak,” he said as the people started moving again in twos and threes until everyone was cautiously blinking away their confusion and going about their business again, with the two fighters no longer remembering that they were fighting after a little mental washing as both were given a priority task in opposite directions that they headed off on, forgetting about each other until they were out of sight. If they wanted to go at it again it would be after Paul and Cal-com got through the area.

“I knew you were powerful, but I’ve never seen that trick before. What exactly did you do?”

“Asserting control over their minds without taking direct control of motor functions. I let them handle that, but put very firm restrictions on what they can and can’t do. That way they stay standing without me having to do it for them,” Paul said as they walked past one of the fighters as he went up the street they were walking down.

“Essence use?”

“Didn’t need to.”

“That’s why I didn’t detect it.”

“Is it that surprising?”

Cal-com glanced at his friend’s hooded head. “You may be underestimating how strong you’ve gotten. I don’t know of any Vargemma or Varkemma who could do the same without Essence, and even with Essence I doubt I could replicate that feat with so many people. How do you practice Ikrid skills onboard your ship?”

“I don’t. At least not mind hacking. Mental interface with remote computer systems is somewhat similar, but not completely the same. I’m rusty because of that.”

“I’ll take your rust any day,” Cal-com said as a large number of the Tri’meori police force arrived and quickly grabbed the fighter still ahead of them…but ignored the one going the other way entirely.

The Voku frowned, reaching out to search their minds as well as the one going the other way.

“Paul.”

“I see them. We can slip through.”

“We need to intervene. It was a setup.”

“How so?” Paul asked, reaching out to search the minds involved as the Tri’meori who was being arrested started fighting back as if his life depended on it…for it did.

“This one was attacked on orders, now they’re arresting him for the scuffle. Once they get him out of view of the public, they’re going to kill him. Some sort of political assassination.”

“Not today,” Paul murmured as he quickly got caught up with his own mental scans and soon the entire street went still again, with him and Cal-com walking up to the police officers and the Tri’meori they were soon to kill.

“I’ll take him,” Cal-com offered, with his Ikrid being handed off control by Paul’s with only a split second of lag during which the 11 foot tall reptilian visibly twitched, after which he became a puppet as Cal-com remote controlled his body and got him moving through the crowd of statues until they got to the edge where there were moving people beyond looking on at the freakish occurrence…but a little mental distraction from Cal-com took their curiosity away and he was able to blend in with them as he walked behind his ward.

Paul hung back a bit, wiping the memories of the police officers and adding some mental conditioning against assassinations. That way the next time they were ordered to do so they wouldn’t accept it without thinking. They might still overcome his imbedded impetus, but they’d have to work at it to do it. That might put their own lives in jeopardy if their bosses didn’t like them not following through, but that was still better than them jumping someone who didn’t have a chance to fight back.

And while he was working on them he reviewed the orders he was given as he slowly walked away from the scene. There was quite a bit of wrong going on here, and it seemed to avoid Star Force’s rule against executions they were killing people unofficially in order to get the job done…along with a lot more unsavory stuff.

That angered Paul in a multitude of ways, but the most shocking of all was the fact that Star Force had set firm rules to allow them to remain independent. Generous rules that allowed a lot of crap to go on but provided individuals caught up in that crap an escape route. There was a Star Force embassy on the planet, though far from here, that would transport anyone off the planet that wished to leave. And rather than send their political enemies there to get rid of them…which many planets did…they were instead killing them, as if getting rid of them wasn’t the objective. It was almost like they wanted the sick pleasure of overriding their control of their own lives and snuffing them out.

It had been a very long time since Paul had sensed a mind with that level of darkside in it. The Hadarak were different, for they were just going on instinct and programming. This was by choice. It was individuals seeking out the darkside and embracing it, not being tricked into it or programmed to follow it.

Most of these police didn’t fall into that category, but two of them did, and it turned out they were the ones making the assassination kills while the others were either not in view or simply said nothing and did nothing as it happened.

But those two…they knew what they were doing was a violation. And for them that was the point. Part of it was old genetic memory, prey and predator instincts, where you went after a target because you were instructed to, and movement and even screeching enhanced the takedown urge, almost as if it were a game.

But in those predator instincts there was no desire to cause pain or torture. That’s still what happened, but from the predator’s perspective they didn’t understand that. They didn’t understand they were tearing apart a person, just an objective.

This was different because the whole point of it was to tear apart a person. They didn’t just pull them out of view and shoot them in the head. They would beat and knife them into a bloody mess before finally killing them. They wanted the torture, and reveled in it. They wanted to see their terror and feel it, as some kind of sick rush…which was why they were so useful when it came to assassinations. They weren’t doing it for money or power, they actually liked it.

As Paul walked off those two individuals collapsed to the ground, with specific internal organs spontaneously crushed to kill them as quickly as possible using Lachka. These two monsters were not going to be able to prey on anyone else, but there were probably many more of them out there if these assassinations were as widespread as these police seemed to think.

Paul continued to walk, visibly calm but with his teeth clenched. This was within Star Force’s domain, though it wasn’t their territory, and that made it even worse. The Hadarak were the greater threat, but this darkside was playing out right here, plain as day, by people with skills and powers far inferior to even the youngest of Archons. Why was this being allowed?

Paul knew the answers to that. Star Force couldn’t be everywhere. Star Force needed to fight the biggest enemies. Star Force had to pick and choose its battles, and in truth Paul knew of many histories that were far darker than this, but being right here and seeing it about to happen in his presence angered him in a way he hadn’t experience before in his entire life.

And part of that anger was him having the power to stop it, as well as many others in Star Force, and nobody had. It had just been overlooked as an unimportant planet with an escape hatch for people to leave if they needed to.

But they couldn’t leave if they were jumped and killed by the very police force that was supposed to be protecting people.

The rage burned in him as he slowly walked and caught up to Cal-com and their rescuee who was still unaware of what was happening. It was better that way, because trying to explain would leave him freaking out and drawing attention, and right now they needed to get him away from here and to the embassy.

They walked, using mental distraction as needed, until another group of 6 police officers…different from the first ones…spotting the Tri’meori and yelled out at him, attempting to arrest him before Paul did another quick mind wipe and sent them on their way.

“We’re being tracked,” Cal-com noted.

“I think you’re right,” Paul said, extending his Pefbar out and looking for surveillance equipment. The city streets didn’t look advanced enough to support such technology, but he found it numerous places. Tiny cameras set up where they were virtually invisible to onlookers. And through those they could see the streets and the faces of the individuals. With a little facial recognition programming they could track their guy wherever he went, with Paul wishing the Tri’meori was wearing a hood, though that wouldn’t matter if there was a continuous feed down the streets. If someone was watching they could just follow his silhouette, face showing or not.

“Be right back,” Paul said, wandering off in the crowd as he blacked out three of the nearest cameras using his Po’letvo, which essentially put a dark bubble around them so they couldn’t see anything. Usually it was a technique used to blind an opponent, but it worked just as well on camera technology, though not holo.

But they didn’t have holo, so as the nearest cameras were blacked out Paul walked over to the wall with one of them and jumped up to it, sticking to the wall with his robe covering his entire body so all anyone could see was the cloth…but he distracted those who noticed, making him essentially invisible to the nearby crowd while being quite obvious about his wall crawl.

He got a hand onto the camera and triggered his armored gauntlet on that arm to slither up and cover his fingers, from which he extended nanite tethers into the wiring and hacked into the cable connecting the camera to its source, for it wasn’t wireless.

The programming was pathetically simple, and it didn’t take more than .46 seconds for him to take control of the central hub and deactivate all the cameras within the city. How long it would take for them to unjam their systems was unknown. A good tech could do it quickly if they knew their systems, but almost all people who used computers did not understand how they worked, so Paul was guessing the system would be down until they were forced to do a full restart from factory defaults, and he and Cal-com would be out of here long before that could happen.

Paul dropped back down to the ground and ran to catch up, his cloak flapping in the wind of his movement as he went, but nobody around noticed as he had all the minds distracted as he passed by them within inches in some cases.

“Their eyes are gone,” he reported when he caught up to Cal-com. “Let’s deviate off this path in case they have the ability to follow a straight line,” Paul said, half sarcastically.

“Having fun?”

“Not today,” the Archon said icily. “But it’s a wake-up call I needed…and if we hadn’t come he’d be dead shortly. So worth on many levels.”

“Are you ok?”

“I’m ticked we let this shit happen when we have the power to stop it. Hadarak or no, we can’t let this continue. You were right.”

“I didn’t know that when I brought you here,” Cal-com admitted. “But I’m not surprised. The galaxy is so large there will always be corners for depravity to exist within. This is the galactic norm. Star Force is the beneficial anomaly.”

“Then the galaxy needs changed.”

“I agree. How do you want to go about doing that?”

Paul stared at the back of Cal-com’s hood as he trailed behind him a half step. “Are you testing me?”

“Life does the testing far better than I can. Are you taking responsibility on yourself?”

Paul checked himself. “I have to. I can’t stand by when this stuff is happening.”

“Then you risk burning yourself out with a load you cannot bear.”

“What’s my other option?”

“Take the same actions by choice, not responsibility. Saving people is optional, not required.”

“I feels required for me.”

“Not for me,” Cal-com differed. “I will make the same choice as you, and always intervene, but it’s because I answer the call of the lightside. Not because I’m responsible for the darkside happening out here.”

Paul closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “I see your point.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“What I can do. We get this guy to safety, then I call in an invasion force. This system’s sovereignty just got revoked.”

“Because that’s what you have to do?”

“Someone has to. The need is here.”

“That is the call I spoke of. Warriors respond to the need. And without the need the warriors are lost. In a universe of infinite dark corners, I do not believe we will ever be without that need. We just need to learn where to look for them.”

“That’s not enough. This…should not exist. It should not be this way. I can’t tolerate it.”

“Nor should you. It’s the way you don’t tolerate that is at issue. You are inefficient because you lay part of the blame on your inaction.”

Paul frowned. “Inefficient?”

“Your targeting sensors are misaligned if you think you are at fault in any way.”

“If I have the power to stop it and I don’t, then someone is suffering for my inaction.”

“They are suffering because the universe put them in this situation,” Cal-com said, his voice growing icy. “Not you. If you are going to hate something, hate the random birthing process the universe employs. You did not create it and are not responsible for it. And you are doing much to correct its madness.”

“I guess a clone would have a different perspective on that.”

“We are born when there is a need, and only when there is a need. The universe births people in the most horrid and unwinnable of situations. I often think the universe is darkside incarnate, but then Star Force is here, and pure darkside cannot spawn lightside, so some other dynamic must be in play,” Cal-com said as they switched streets again, getting further and further away from the ambush site.

“I know I need to disconnect from that madness…this field trip has made that abundantly clear. But situations like this reinforce how I can’t do that without consequences to other people.”

“And that is one trap the darkside uses to wear us down, making us believe we are abandoning the light or burning ourselves out and leaving us vulnerable to our enemies. We must defy that trap.”

“I’ll work on it,” Paul promised as he remotely signaled for their cloaked ship to rendezvous with them at a park not far from here. Another half hour and they’d have their ward out of harm’s way and they’d drop him off at the embassy…after that, Paul didn’t know if he’d stick around to deal with things here or let the annexation fleet handle it.

Actually, this was one he was going to handle personally. Not because he thought others couldn’t handle it, because he felt he needed to. Millennia onboard a warship had kept him away from situations like this, and he was in no hurry to get back to that isolation…or to Earth. Cal-com was right. Warriors responded to the call when and where there was need.

And right now, that need was here, not on Earth.

5

February 28, 154930

Ha’ven Nu’meori System (Home Two Kingdom)

Ha’shavi

Four months had passed since Paul and Cal-com had gotten their rescuee to safety, and since then four Star Force warships had arrived escorting 34 cargo ships and 4 troop ships, all of which came from the Human Mainline fleet. They’d arrived 15 days ago, and since then they’d been assaulting the planet and quietly capturing the strategic strongpoints with little resistance…mainly because what the native Tri’meori considered ‘strategic’ was more symbolic than anything, such as the Governor’s palace, which held no real value as far as infrastructure went.

The power stations, comm centers, waterworks, spaceports, etc all held value, and Star Force was taking them under possession without having to kill a single person. The invading troops were equipped with stun weapons, shield walls, telepathic lures, and a lot of other things the natives had no idea even existed, and even those that fought back with lethal weapons were taken down quickly without any real threat to them.

So now, after getting the real strategic strongpoints under their possession, Paul entered the Governor’s palace along with a phalanx of armored commandos and went straight to the governor’s office, with all the security forces they could muster not even able to slow his steady walk, for they were taken down enroute as his commandos tagged and bagged the unconscious guards while he continued on to the double doored entrance that was barricaded on the other side.

Paul kicked at it with his shoe, for he wasn’t wearing his armor deployed, and added some Jumat energy to it, busting the doors open and throwing the furniture that had been on the far side across the spacious office and knocking down two of the 28 guards inside that had weapons trained on the doors.

They all opened fire on Paul as soon as they saw him standing in the doorway, but he simply raised a hand and produced a bioshield in front of him, taking all the shots on it as he passively stood still looking at them in his Archon uniform with an addition of a simple white cape added on top of it that had no hood, just some gold embroidery around the high collared neck.

He held his shield as they continued to fire, giving them a chance to take the hint, but when they didn’t he walked forward taking the hits on the clear blue barrier and not even needing his technological shields in his armored gauntlets, then he telekinetically crunched each of their weapons, one by one, until they were holding nothing but inoperative junk. Then he calmly lowered his hand and dropped his shield, staring at the governor hiding behind his desk as the commandos followed him into the room with their weapons now trained on the towering guards that were totally helpless against the Archon’s powers.

“You are not going to be harmed,” Paul said in their native language, having learned enough of it in the past months to not need a translation program. Plus he could see inside their minds as to what they meant to say if he needed any extra help, “but your days running this planet are over.”

The Governor slowly stood up, looking down at Paul from nearly twice the Human’s height and massing more than 4 times his weight, but it was clear the smaller individuals were in the dominant position here.

“What right do you have to do this?” the Tri’meori demanded. “We have followed your rules!”

“We gave you a chance to lead your own people, and what have you done with that chance?” Paul said firmly. “You’ve wasted it. We offered help, resources, guidance…you took none of it. Your people suffer and you do not care. But I care. And we’re going to do better by them than you have ever dreamed of.”

“You have no right! We are a sovereign system!”

“Not anymore. Your sovereignty is hereby revoked. This system is now Star Force property, and we’re already starting to clean up your mess, though it will take decades to do it properly.”

The Governor pounded his fists onto his desk. “You can’t do this! We didn’t break your rules!”

“Good men don’t need rules,” Paul said flatly. “And we won’t stand by when people are suffering because of them. But while we’re on the subject. When we said no executions, that didn’t just mean officially. Having people assassinated with plausible deniability isn’t something we tolerate.”

“It’s been done this way for centuries,” the Governor protested. “You never said anything about it before!”

“It’s a big galaxy, and we don’t see everything. The fact that you were hiding it from the embassy proves you knew it would be a violation.”

“But you never said we couldn’t!” he protested, looking at his guards as if for validation.

“Couldn’t do what?” Paul asked angrily. “Torture people to death that you don’t like? Or maybe they said something that embarrassed you, or exposed one of your lies? Do you really think that’s ok? Do you really think that’s what leadership is about?”

“It’s my choice as leader of this planet to do things the way I want to do them, just as you do on your worlds.”

“Wrong. I don’t do what I want. I do what is needed. Leadership is about responsibility far more than it is privilege. They don’t take orders from me,” Paul said, gesturing to his commandos, “because they have to. I don’t make them, don’t threaten them, don’t leverage them, don’t control them. They follow my orders by choice, and they make that choice so long as my orders are wise. If I tell them to do something stupid they won’t do it. Because they’re trained not to. They’re taught to think, not blindly obey. I only have leadership as long as I am worthy of it. You are unworthy, but your people are too scared to remove you. That, and they don’t know what to do themselves. They’d probably just end up with another version of you.”

“How I lead is not your business!” the Governor yelled, almost as if he sensed a possibility to maintain his position if he could win the argument.

“I’ve made it my business. And you want to know why? Because of all the little people out there that you don’t care about. They need help. They need rescued. They need hope…and not false hope. They need a future, they need guidance, they need a hero to save them. Nobody else was stepping up to take the job, so I am. That’s the way the lightside works. There are no ranks, no hierarchies, no appointments, no orders, no committees, no voting, no public consensus. When there is a need, we who are lightside step up and claim the mission, and make it our own. So it becomes our business, and whether we succeed or fail, we will fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. And there’s no way in hell I’m going to stand by and let you keep assassinating people when I have the power to stop it.”

“Why didn’t you do so before?”

“I was never on this world before. I came for a visit and found things a mess. So I’m taking it upon myself to clean it up. This system is going to be upgraded heavily, and become part of Star Force with all the benefits that entails. It’ll take us time to build new infrastructure, so we’ll have to use what you have in the meantime, but we can run it better than you have. It’s sad that we offered you technical assistance to upgrade the waterworks and power grid, but you turned it down. I’m curious why you did that. We asked no price in return. It was knowledge freely offered.”

“We don’t need your help, Star Force,” he said with so much venom that every word was as if a curse.

“Arrogant pride then. That’s a betrayal of the leadership position. You cast aside improvements that could help your people because you were not the one to create them. I would say that’s a newb mistake, but you don’t even qualify as a newb. You’re not a leader at all. You’re an imposter, and using your position to hurt others rather than help them. Maybe you just don’t know what you’re doing, and have not had an example to follow from the past, but still…I expect a good intentioned individual, no matter how naïve, to leave what he found in slightly better condition afterward. You have not. In fact, you have made things worse. You are unfit to lead.”

The Governor flew into a rage, picking up a desktop item of significant weight and threw it at the Human…only to have it stop midair as the Human simply raised a hand again.

“You are under arrest, and will be transported to one of the new prison facilities we are constructing. It is unlikely you will ever leave, but we always have a rehab program that, if completed, will lead to your eventual freedom. But to gain it, you have to lose all the bad habits you’ve accumulated and forsake the darkside. I doubt you will, but you’ll have the chance,” Paul said, glancing around at the other towering figures. “You all will. But right now you’re not going to be let loose to cause more harm. You can go with my troops willingly, or you can be stunned unconscious and carried out. Your choice.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you little piece of…” the Governor said, about to go into a long string of curses when Paul fired his left gauntlet and landed three quick stun blasts into his torso.

The Tri’meori fell forward unconscious, but Paul caught him telekinetically as he simultaneously put the desk ornament back in its place, then he theatrically raised his hand and floated the Governor’s body over the desk and into the waiting hands of four commandos who carried him back out the doors as four more Commandos came in to take their place behind Paul.

“What about the rest of you?” he asked. “Are you walking out, or being carried out?”

Several of them dropped the wreckage of their weapons and raised their hands up to their chest, which was how their race indicated submission as it took their hands away from their utility belts that held many items that Paul telekinetically pulled off and started to pile up on the Governor’s desk.

The volunteers were marched out, with the others defiantly holding their ground but not fighting. Paul gave them a little time to think it over, but when they would not move he ordered his troops telepathically and all of them were stunned and dropped to the ground…then were carried out one by one leaving Paul alone in the very large office.

He deactivated the tiny drone camera that was floating behind him and broadcasting to the planet what had happened without the Governor or his guards knowing it. Them getting to see his true colors would help in the coming days, as well as the display of ‘magic’ he’d just put on. Rumors could be useful or hurtful, and it was best if the populace had some solid information to work with, which meant letting them see it for themselves.

That’s why he’d left the Governor’s palace for last rather than going there first thing. Better to let the populace freak out over the invasion while the Governor was still there to tell them what was going on…or make shit up about what was going on…then they could see him and Paul face to face and get a firsthand look at what was going down, and how he was not in control in any way, shape, or form.

But also to show them that he wasn’t killed, nor were any of his guards. That was key, but it wouldn’t stop attacks from happening against Star Force personnel in the coming months. Hopefully it would reduce it during the transition period, but like many other planets before Ha’shavi, once Star Force started to actually upgrade the planet and people were personally benefited by it…that was when the real change happened. Star Force had to deliver, and they would, for promises were not enough. It had to be real for each person, and unlike so many other civilizations, Star Force wasn’t fake. They were the real deal, so they didn’t have to worry about running a propaganda machine.

The lightside never had to.

“Are you done here?” Cal-com asked, walking into the abandoned office behind Paul as the Archon was still looking out the windows behind the large desk that rose up just above Paul’s eyeline, so he couldn’t see the surface through the windows, just the top half of the buildings that were visibly swaying in the wind…attesting to how poorly constructed they were.

“I stopped transmitting when the last of the guards were taken out,” Paul said, turning around to face his friend.

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

Paul sighed. “With Duke Corrington here, I’m not really necessary anymore. He’s handled annexations before. So yeah, I think we’re done. Thanks for sticking around.”

“We’re not finished yet, so I couldn’t leave. This invasion has distracted from the purpose we came here.”

“Life has a way of doing that,” Paul agreed. “I was starting to decompress, but then a need arose.”

“Did you learn anything from that moment, or from what followed?”

“I can’t let go of my duty. I can’t make this impersonal. I just can’t, Cal-com. I am taking responsibility for the galaxy. I’m not sure when that started, but it’s stuck. I don’t feel right abandoning that, even if my actions end up the same…for I know they won’t be. I won’t stretch quite as much without that responsibility…and that means someone will suffer or die because I didn’t go far enough.”

“How do you maintain your clarity and fitness if you are inclined to overextend?”

“I don’t know. I guess that’s my next challenge to tackle. Do you have a suggestion?”

“A perspective change. If your responsibility to the galaxy remains fixed, perhaps viewing it from another angle will provide clarity. I believe I know where we need to travel to next.”

“But you’re not going to tell me?”

“Not the reason why, but you’ll know the destination once I choose it. Shall we go now?”

Paul looked around. “Nothing else to do here. I can hand the baton to Corrington on the way out. You lead, I follow.”

“That, I think, is another perspective change that you need,” Cal-com said as he turned and began to walk out with Paul trailing him a couple steps.

“You’re probably right about that,” he admitted, telekinetically pulling the doors closed behind him, only to have one swing back open due to the busted latch.

6

February 28, 154930

Kio Nutarri Nebula (Unexplored Frontier)

Neofan Temple #1

Count Meerkan stood on top of a building in the only Star Force city within the massive landscape of this Temple. It was here to monitor the Neofan as they continued to build more and more infrastructure on the surface and much more beneath it. The city being here was a condition of the Grand Bargain that had been struck between the two empires, so that Star Force could monitor the Neofan’s compliance with other tenants…and to date they had done so, as far as the Count could determine.

There were no slave races here, nor any other races save for Neofan and those within the Star Force city. Meerkan was a Bsidd Tridas, originally bred to be a warrior while smaller variants were tasked with maintenance, support, and administrative duties, but the individual born into the body did not always match the biology, and Meerkan had risen to the attention of a Bsidd Maverick, who had then redirected him into an Administrative path.

Meerkan was good at hand to hand combat…or in his case mandible to hand combat…but he had a unique knack for organization, and more importantly, vision of what could be rather than of what already was. Vision of what was, was called ‘awareness,’ while being able to see potential advancements and perils was known as ‘vision’ when used in this context. Monarchs had to have both in ample amounts, and once his skills had begun to show as an Administrator he was quickly plucked out of their ranks and taken to Earth to meet with the Director of Star Force.

After one conversation…and mental review, for the Director was telepathic…he was minted a Monarch with the rank of Baron and assigned to a planet of his own to oversee. 392 years later he was reassigned to another larger one, then three more over the course of 10,304 years before being promoted to Count and given a system of his own to run.

He’d been a Count ever since, even when others more junior to him were promoted to Marquis…though that wasn’t surprising. One had to pass through the Clans to become a Duke, and there were only a limited number of them. But when he’d been assigned to this post he’d had his second personal conversation with Davis, in which he told Meerkan he would never rise above the rank of Count.

At first the Bsidd had not liked what he was being told, but as the Director went on to explain his strengths and weaknesses, he also explained his proclivities. Meerkan was good about dealing with what was local, but the larger his domain became the less responsive he was to it. The Director had told him that a different skillset was required to manage systems with ample communications lag between them, as well as a drought of information. Meerkan was best suited for local environments where he could access information quickly, fully, and get feedback within hours, if not minutes.

The Director went on to explain more, all of which defined him better than he had previously understood, and when he was finished the Director summed up the situation as being a perfect fit for Meerkan at the Count rank, not because he hadn’t improved his skills, but because his skills needed to continue to develop in this pocket of the empire. Not every Monarch would one day become a Lord, and they didn’t need to be. Without the lower ranking Monarchs the Lords couldn’t do their job. It was a team effort, and they were not redundant. They had to work on different aspects of the empire, as did the Director.

So Meerkan was meant to be a Count permanently, and due to his developing skills and fit for the ‘local’ environment, the Director was assigning him to one of the three ‘embassy’ posts within the Neofan temples. He’d act as Monarch over the Star Force city being built there, as well as being the main conduit between the Neofan leadership and Star Force, for the head of House Atriark resided here, and it was him who Meerkan was waiting for on the rooftop after his arrival in the Star Force city had been recently announced.

The Bsidd stood there waiting alone, for neither leader wanted any form of ceremony. They had periodic contact with each other when necessary, and neither one of them had any interests other than conducting business.

Soon a barge appeared in the sky just beyond the city shield perimeter, and it was not stopped. It passed through the atmospheric dome that was filtering out some of the native allergens from the air but still allowed large objects through up until there was a security issue, then it would become a solid defense shield as soon as the correct button was pushed in the command center.

But that wasn’t needed today, and the barge flew straight across the city over top the highest of the smooth towers until it slowed and descended next to Meerkan, with only a single Neofan aboard. Reignor Plausious had elected to pilot the craft himself rather than bring another with him, let alone a security detail. He had no need to, even if Star Force was not trustworthy. The Neofan had enough power here to wipe out the Star Force city with ease if they wanted, and Plausious no doubt had enough Essence skill in his single body to defend himself against whatever Meerkan could order thrown at him.

So neither of them made any symbolic gestures, knowing the situation both were in and opting to treat each other with informed respect and meeting alone, with the Reignor stepping off the floating barge and still standing taller than the Bsidd, who typically towered over most members of Star Force, but here he was definitely the smaller…though neither of the two individuals acted as if it mattered. Without Star Force House Atriark was doomed, and without the permission of House Atriark for the Star Force city to exist in this Temple, it would be eradicated with little effort by the mostly apathetic Neofan, who seemed to think scruples were a quaint idea formulated by the naïve who did not have the knowledge or will to do what the situation required.

“Count,” the Reignor said in English as he walked up to him and looked down from his crown-like head ornamentation as his wings flexed slightly behind his body. “I have news from Yenoiv.”

“Trouble?” Meerkan asked, knowing that was the name of the Neofan’s new galaxy that they were trying to colonize as their original one of Utovi was still in the process of falling, and now completely abandoned by House Atriark.

“On the contrary. The Hadarak have ceased the bulk of their reinforcements and returned to normal, periodic probing for weaknesses that they do in all of our owned galaxies. They seem to have accepted our ownership of Yenoiv…yet they never do. They are redirecting the bulk of their reinforcements elsewhere. I do not know the purpose of this, nor the destination. It will take another century or two before our scouts report back, but there is a small chance those reinforcements could be coming here, though I personally doubt this. Never the less, I wanted to give you fair warning.”

“Where do you believe they are going?”

“Somewhere of greater need. The Bond of Resistance does not include all who fight the Hadarak, and Hadarak territory extends beyond our holdings in some areas. Star Force, despite your many successes, is not more powerful than the Neofan. So the Hadarak would not pull their forces away from us in order to assault you. They respond to the greater threats first and leave their secondary forces to deal with the lesser ones. They have always engaged in such warfare in an attempt to avoid letting powerful enemies grow stronger over time. I believe they are moving against someone more powerful than us, but I have no indications of them going after the Denogi or Veloqueen, nor of them arriving in any of our monitored galaxies close to here, though our inventory is not complete until all the scouts report, but I doubt they will find the destination.”

“Could they be attacking one of the smaller galaxies?”

“I do not know,” Plausious admitted, “and that concerns me. The Hadarak are creatures of habit, but they do adapt, and when their behavior changes from norms it is a sign of great warning. They do not give up, as far as I have been able to determine, in any of their campaigns. I do not believe they have the intelligence to do so. It is most likely a primary urge to conquer, or perhaps as a proactive means of self-defense. They will not stop unless stopped by others. So this redirect of reinforcements either means a lack of them to send, which cannot be true, or a higher priority target.”

“Are there any indications that the reinforcements coming into this galaxy have lessened?”

“Not at present. Our Deep Core scouts would have reported it by now if it was coinciding with what happened in Yenoiv, though even the Hadarak have to deal with communications delays. Regardless, it is something that needs to be monitored. How close are you to launching your invasion?”

“Not close enough. We are not going to chance losing by going too soon, and building sufficient warships and support industry does not occur quickly. The Grand Border is holding, though pressure on it has increased considerably.”

“How so?”

“Selective raids attempting to point overload system defenses. I am also told they are employing new weaponry to weaken shields and catching many systems off guard. We have suffered some heavy losses, but no system has been fully compromised. The pressure on the border has not lessened. Are you sure those reinforcements are not coming here?”

“Not at present. It is the future that I am uncertain of. Now that Yenoiv is more or less stable, my race will being the slow work of removing the Hadarak that already reside in it while we continue to reinforce the defenses surrounding the Gateways. Our holdings will also begin to increase in number as we expand to more systems in the Rim and bring in additional survivors from our old galaxy. My House has been barred from doing so, and our standing had now decreased with the success of House Mutavi. Their position as leadership will be cemented with this victory, so long as they can manage the removal of the Hadarak. That is a lesser challenge than attaining the Gateways, so I do not think they will fail in it.”

“What does that mean for House Atriark?”

“We are the primary challenger for leadership within our race, and because of this we will be marginalized further. They do not like the majority of our population residing here, beyond their commands, and those of us in Yenoiv are little more than guests. We are effectively exiled until House Mutavi fails and replacements are needed.”

“Do you consider your residing here to be a mistake in hindsight?”

“Not at all. Our House is secure and mostly intact. Only House Mutavi can say the same. The other Houses were forced to leave a great deal of people behind, and though there is an opportunity to bring more out every year, many do not survive long enough to make the journey…for they must continue to fight to hold the systems that are falling, or the Hadarak will sweep across the galaxy with such speed that they will conquer the galaxy before the Pafdreng can finish its work and return to the intergalactic void. Many in our fellow Houses are fighting and dying to give others a chance to escape.”

“I thought you previously said servant races were being moved to Yenoiv?”

“They are, on the orders of House Mutavi. They are electing to take the most valued of servants over fellow Neofan. It is their decision to make, but it is insulting to our Houses to be valued less than a servant race.”

“How did you get all your people out then?”

“We had permission to use other routes, the other Houses did not. They would rather die than be exiled.”

“Is that wise?”

“It is their choice. I am pleased we were able to come to a bargain that gave us a sanctioned option, even if our effective status is exile. The difference is we hold legitimacy that can be plied in a future power vacuum.”

“That is still your long term hope?”

“What other objective would you recommend?”

“You said there are still Neofan surviving in Utovi?”

“For the time being, yes. You would have us rescue them?”

“Why would you not wish to?”

“They are of other Houses. We do not have permission to bring them here.”

“Good men don’t need permission to do what is right.”

“Your philosophy of the lightside does not hold sway within our race. If we disobey the ruling House we will cease to be Neofan.”

“Will you?” Meerkan challenged. “Perhaps the Neofan that embrace the lightside would be strongest of all?”

“Normally I would dismiss such a notion as nonsense, but your ability to fight the Hadarak with…less than we possess gives you some credence. You have spoken of this before. Do you have something new to add?”

“House Mutavi cannot monitor your actions in this galaxy, so why not operate outside their rules if it means preserving more Neofan lives?”

“Sadly, our Houses are not without traitors. I could not be completely sure that word of our deceit would not reach back to them. If it did, we would be exiled at best, and those of my House within Yenoiv would be executed.”

“And that is why your civilization is darkside.”

“It is our way.”

“Yet you survive mostly because of our way, enhanced by your knowledge and counsel,” Meerkan added in fairness.

“I see no endgame that is certain for our advantage. Am I missing some aspect?”

“We cannot use the intergalactic network. But the Neofan can, and if I understand you correctly there are many within Utovi that could flee it by other routes but are choosing not to because they have nowhere to go. What if we arranged for them to come here independent of your agreement with us?”

“To what advantage would that be for you? These other Houses are not as inclined as House Atriark is to abide by your rules. They would be more trouble than they are worth when you are poised to launch an impossible invasion. You must devote all your resources to this rather than concerning yourself with the plight of those in another galaxy.”

“We like to help those in need, and my empire began from a group of exiles with a death mark on them. So you could say we have a certain sympathy with those who have been abandoned.”

“You seek to rescue those who are far superior to you. You cannot annex them as you have others. We have a mutually beneficial alliance, neither are subservient to the other. This is the only way we can interact without you being part of the Bond of Resistance. What arrangement do you think you could strike with outcasts and renegades?”

“The question is what arrangement could you strike with them for your benefit, and how could we be of help so it is also in our and their benefit?”

“You see an opportunity concurrent with your altruism?”

“We can multitask,” the Bsidd said pithily.

“And that is why I have some respect for you. You are practical despite your inclinations,” the Reignor said, looking skyward as he thought. “The only path that I see that would be beneficial is if we intentionally abandon the ruling House and those loyal to it and attempt to restart the Neofan here under our leadership. That was a possibility if House Mutavi failed to secure Yenoiv, but now that they have that path would be suicide. Once they established themselves, they would hunt us down and wage war against our new dominion. I would rather die than fight a civil war. And exiles know their roll…which is to disappear and cause no disruption to our civilization. In turn we ignore them. This is unspoken but tradition.”

“Cannot those who are ignored still be rescued?”

“Not by us.”

“And what of your servants? Or perhaps other races in your galaxy that did not serve you?”

“There were none that did not. We fully dominated our galaxy, unlike yours.”

“Are there no independents?”

“Why would we allow that?”

“Was it worth it to you to conquer them all? Resource wise?”

“In other galaxies, no. In our home galaxy, it is absolutely necessary. We cannot share such a dominion.”

“Is that going to be a problem here?”

“If we were responsible for this galaxy’s defense it would be necessary, but since you are providing the defense for us, it would be illogical for us to challenge your possession of the galaxy. For possession and dominance are not always the same thing.”

“Do you not desire a galaxy of your own?”

“We desire Yenoiv and the leadership of our own people.”

“And what if it was not leadership, but inclusion as the other Houses are?”

“We also desire this, but not at the cost of the majority of our House.”

“So there is some concern for your own people hidden amidst your general apathy?”

“Everyone must have some loyalty in some form, else a civilization will degrade into anarchy and self-destruction. I will admit that your loyalty is far superior to ours. In that you are superior. The question is whether or not that is an asset. Though it may be hard for a hive mind-based race such as yours to be anything but loyal, for you are programmed to be as such.”

“To be a Star Force Monarch requires that we surpass such default programming and make our bodies and minds our own. My mind is free to consider many possibilities, but all are inferior to the path of the lightside.”

“If you succeed in driving the Hadarak out of this galaxy I promise to devote my time to learning your philosophy so I may assimilate what usefulness is in it.”

“You still do not think we will be able to push them back?”

“Pushing them back is easy. Assaulting their fortifications in the Deep Core is hard. Taking and holding the Gateways is impossible for your empire. Though I do hope you will do so regardless. I sometimes tire of our Houses’ constant clandestine warfare against one another. I wish there was a better path, but so far I have not seen one, and I have studied the social structure of your empire intensely. I do not see it there. What I see is optimistic naivety.”

“Effective naivety then.”

“To date, yes,” the Reignor admitted. “Many have come here to study you, for you are a curiosity, but they do not find methods that they can replicate.”

“That’s because the lightside is not something that you can turn on and off. It’s all or nothing.”

“Is it? I was not aware of this.”

“Can one be loyal if they occasionally betray you?”

“If they betray you you should kill them immediately.”

“Forced loyalty is not true loyalty. True loyalty is choosing to be loyal when no one is monitoring you and there will be no consequences for betrayal.”

“If there are no consequences what is the reasoning behind the loyalty?”

“If you have to ask that question they you do not understand the concept.”

“I wonder if it is I that does not understand or you,” Plausious said honestly. “With what we have shared with you, if your lightside is truly stronger, then you should surpass us in time, correct?”

“In theory, yes. Though we’re quite busy with the Hadarak at the moment.”

“Then time will tell if you have found a superior path or not. If that proves to be true, then we will adapt to follow yours.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“One’s motives are critical to unlocking the power of the lightside. Without unlocking your conscience, you will not be able to walk it. You will be blind to the path and stray from it for you cannot track it.”

“This conscience you have spoken of is your tracking mechanism?”

“That is one way of speaking of it. And my conscience says a galaxy full of people should not be left to die when some of them can be saved.”

“And my practicality says they are a lost cause and we must consolidate what we currently have in order to survive the challenges ahead.”

“Our Archons do not just survive challenges, they crave them. And they have guided us into a habit of looking for potential allies in all situations rather than cocooning up and ignoring all else in hope of survival.”

“Those who are doomed typically embrace the fearless philosophy.”

“Death before dishonor is our way, for we wish to be better than everyone else, not just the last to limp on in survival.”

“To be the last surviving is to be superior.”

“Or just lucky.”

“I find our conversations to be most curious, Count. I am almost learning from you.”

“Can a message be sent to Utovi?”

“If I wished it.”

“Can you direct the survivors here, even if not under your protection?”

“I could do that, but I will not. It will weaken you and diminish your ability to defend this galaxy. Neofan who have been exiled are rumored to be…predatory and unstable in nature. Many go mad, and if they stray into our path we must kill them before they kill us. It is also for this reason that House Atriark will not abandon our race. We must not lose who and what we are. And I will not risk becoming lost to save those who are already lost.”

“Would it be possible for us to acquire some of your servant races then?”

The Reignor studied the Bsidd closely, with his demeanor changing slightly. “You wish to maximize your odds in the coming invasion by salvaging useful tools that we have crafted and are now discarding. And in the process this works with your lightside philosophy. Multitasking indeed. It would require an amount of Essence procured by you and the use of intermediaries, for record of a transmission coming from us cannot be allowed to exist.”

“If the Essence amount is not extreme, we can provide it.”

“There are certain…items left behind in Utovi that we would like retrieved, but we were not allowed to take them with us. If these castoffs end up here possessing these items, and you take them in independent of our advice and counsel, and you were to deliver these items to us, we would have yet another mutually beneficial agreement.”

“Are these items living?”

“No. They are technological and nostalgic. Nothing that will conflict with your lightside philosophy. They are things left to be destroyed that we value.”

“Heirlooms?”

“Some. Others are more practical.”

“Weapons?”

“No. Some things more useful for our current situation.”

“Then let us negotiate the terms,” Count Meerkan said, feeling optimistically victorious, for rescuing anyone from the Neofan home galaxy was a mission objective the Director had given him long ago…and perhaps today was the day he found a way to make good on that particular entry on the wish list he’d been given to negotiate with the Neofan if various opportunities ever arose…

7

April 15, 154930

Poolion System (Home Two Kingdom)

Turron

“And why did you bring me here?” Paul asked as he and Cal-com were walking the busy streets of one of the smaller cities on Turron, again wearing cloaks to disguise themselves amongst the alien traffic on a world populated by a branch of the Virri race that was widespread across this quarter of the galaxy as the Archon walked viewing the ground in front of him and little else.

“What do you feel differently than on Ha’shavi?”

“You want the list?”

“Give me the highlights,” the Voku said, having to walk sideways to get between a group of shorter aliens and a hovercart full of fruit as they got sandwiched between the two when the traffic flow ebbed the wrong way.

“Naivety, positivity, cluelessness, happiness, angst, boredom…”

“And in yourself?”

“My senses are still limited, and there’s a danger in that, but I’m less worried about the environment. I felt more open before.”

“You need the danger for the contrast?”

“I believe that would be an accurate assessment, though I’ll admit I’m mostly blind as to what’s going on inside my head right now. You didn’t answer my question.”

“You must find the answer yourself, or it won’t process,” Cal-com said dismissively. “The Voku never had your problem, nor did we ever have full control. We always served the Elders and trusted in their guidance and forethought. You are an Elder, so one extreme of yours is untethered. This creates imbalance if you do not have a quest to push in that direction. Without this pressure…I speculate…that you will become lost in matters of that direction. I have not noticed your leadership of others to have flagged in the least. It is your connection to the unknown that is lacking.”

“I can’t argue that.”

“But you also can’t confirm it?”

“Everything you’ve shown me, and we’ve discussed, nips at something I can’t put my finger on. I keep missing the obvious, and I don’t know how to open my eyes because I can’t find what’s shut down.”

“You said the last time you felt ‘normal’ was during the V’kit’no’sat war?”

“That last I can remember. Afterwards was kind of a blur.”

“Because the war ended or because Essence began?”

“Perhaps because nothing of merit occurred…at least not in comparison to what came before.”

“You conquered the impossible, now everything of less difficulty feels unimportant?”

“It feels important, but as a side mission. My primary quest is complete. The V’kit’no’sat were survived, defeated, and now absorbed. The threat is gone.”

“A threat that defined you?”

“We became who we are in spite of it. Without that spite…”

“You think you wouldn’t be yourself? That is utter stupidity.”

Paul frowned beneath his hood. “How is missing that ascension irrelevant?”

“Because it does not make you who you are, it allowed your true colors to show through. They were always there, perhaps dormant before, but it did not create you. If it did, there would have been a Star Force long before yours was formed. Have you ever found any pure lightside civilizations beyond your own?”

“No,” Paul said regretfully. “I’ve often wondered about that. You’d think there’d accidentally be one somewhere to find.”

“The lightside is the more difficult path. The darkside is the easier. You have made the lightside accessible to others in a way that did not exist before. How many races have you encountered that didn’t even know the lightside existed?”

“Too many.”

“Only the truly strong can hold to the lightside and defend against the darkside, for all darkside hates the lightside for what it is. So a lightside civilization will always face a galaxy of opposition, and they will not isolate themselves permanently.”

“They’ll stick their nose into other people’s business, expose their existence, and draw enemies to them they didn’t even know existed?”

“Perhaps. I think you underestimate how advanced Star Force is. You bring answers to problems others don’t even know exist.”

“Is that why you brought me here?”

“In part,” Cal-com said, referencing the slightly shorter race of natives they were pushing their way through politely as they had to fight against downstream traffic as they switched streets. “These people aren’t lightside, but they have allied themselves with it. They remain independent of Star Force, but they have learned from the wisdom and guidance you offered, unlike Ha’shavi. This world isn’t as advanced, but it’s advanced enough to provide the people with what they need. You will never have to invade here, for they’re not a threat to the Empire or to themselves. They’re good neighbors to have, and proof that not everyone in the galaxy is stupidly defiant. And if this world someday has a chance to repay Star Force for its assistance, they will in a heartbeat.”

“Are you sensing that in them?”

“Not in any particular individual. But you can see it in their culture. Gratitude is in their monuments, and in their emulation of Star Force ways…but without blatant copying. They wish to be different where there is no disadvantage. Does that bother you?”

“Why would it?”

“Because our way is better and they’re not fully using it.”

“Most of Star Force’s citizens don’t fully use it,” Paul pointed out as the traffic began to thin as they climbed a shallow hill on the sides of the vehicular road that held a number of hovering speeders moving so slow they were nearly stopped.

“What bothers you about this place? I can tell there is something.”

The Archon sighed. “I guess the more I advance the less impressed I am with people like these who have achieved a great deal, but they’re so far behind me I can barely talk to them without having to dumb down my thought process.”

“You have trouble with communication?”

“I phrased that wrong. I mean I wonder why I’m even bothering to try communicating to people who are so inferior. If there is a need, then that’s obvious. But I don’t feel the need. I feel…alien. Like I don’t belong here. And the more powerful I become the more that feeling grows.”

“And it’s grown a great deal since Essence use began?”

“You’ve traced my problem to that, haven’t you?”

“I suspect it’s linked.”

“Then why don’t you have a problem with it?”

“I’m not an Elder,” Cal-com reiterated.

“Please don’t start referring to me as that. I have very few peers as it is.”

“And you regret that?”

“The only way I could have more was if I slowed down my rate of advancement.”

“And you view doing such to be treason?”

“For Archons…it pretty much is.”

“But you wish you had peers?”

“I wish I had superiors to learn from instead of having to figure out everything on our own.”

“Have not the Neofan been this in some ways?”

“Superiors I can trust,” Paul amended.

“Have you ever had that?” Cal-com wondered.

“A long time ago during basic training. The Black Knight, especially.”

“I don’t recall him ever helping you directly?”

“True, he didn’t. But as an adversary he taught us more, in some ways.”

“And so did the V’kit’no’sat? And now they’re not around anymore? At least not in a superior fashion. You’ve caught up and exceeded them. You’ve never had a superior ally to teach you. You’ve learned everything from facing and overcoming your superior enemies.”

“And that ended with the V’kit’no’sat war,” Paul agreed, seeing the correlation.

“And after going through that, lesser paths of advancement…such as those utilized by this planet…are going backwards for you. So you don’t want to mingle with them as peers, for fear it will diminish your battle-honed edge?”

“It’s more like what’s the point? We’ve beaten this game long ago, why replay it now when there’s no challenge to it?”

“You’ve outgrown it.”

“Yes we have.”

“And this has left you without a path, because the game ended with the V’kit’no’sat?”

“We’ve had a lot to do since then, but somehow you’re right. I can’t say why though. The Hadarak are far more powerful than them, as are the Bond of Resistance.”

“But they’re not superior. The Hadarak are crude, brutish, and low skilled, short-lived slaves run by unseen masters utilizing genetic chains that cannot be easily broken. You can’t rescue them, and they don’t even want to preserve their own lives. They’re powerful primitives, but still primitives, and the fact that they’re winning so much has to be frustrating?”

“No, it’s not that. They’re swarm strategy, just like the lizards were, only amplified to planetary level. No, you were right earlier. It’s Essence. We’ve pursued the power, but in a way I don’t want it.”

“Why is that?”

“It doesn’t feel…warriorish. Does that make any sense?”

“You have to pursue the power because it’s necessary, but it doesn’t obey the physical training ascension ladder that everything prior to it did.”

“You can be fat and still develop Essence,” Paul said pointedly, never having phrased it like that, but now that he thought about it the sentiment became crystal clear. “There was a lore from before I was born. A group of special powered individuals, all with different powers. They were called X-men. Some of their powers could be developed with training, some greatly so, but a few just had natural abilities that were either there or not. One was called Cyclops. His eyes fired energy beams. That was his usefulness in battle.”

“And his power wasn’t tied to physical fitness at all?”

“Nor to training. He had the same output no matter how many times he used it. It didn’t change. He just showed up, pointed, and fired. He could have got extremely fat and accomplished the same task.”

“And you don’t like the idea of a ‘slacker’ being able to be a peer with those who had to work their way to power?”

“Something like that. I don’t want to undo my Essence skills. I just feel that something is off in the way we have to fight. It was worse before we had any defenses for it.”

“Did you feel the same way about your psionics?”

“No, not at all. I guess because those had to be trained and mastered.”

“And leveled up?”

Paul stopped walking as they came to a dead end, then followed Cal-com to the side as they began to climb a stone staircase.

“It’s not just about skill or muscle. It’s power reserves. An inferior can overwhelm a master if they have a larger reserve.”

“Such as the Uriti?”

“I don’t have a problem with them.”

“But you do the Neofan?”

“More so the Vargemma, but yes, also the Neofan. I see inferiors with greater power than me.”

“As if the universal constant of hard work got destroyed when Essence was introduced to your knowledge.”

“It hasn’t been the same since, and even refusing to use it now is making me feel better.”

“Perhaps Wilson was right,” Cal-com suggested as they came to the observation walkway up on top of the city’s boundary wall, with few people up there other than occasional joggers. The pair walked up to the low wall that had a security field just beyond it to prevent people from falling off and down into the distant jungle below, for the city was elevated at least 50 meters above the tree canopy.

“I’ve tried to confirm that, but I haven’t been able to find anything at fault. It’s more a matter of my mood.”

“You going back to the way things were before the end of your greatest war?”

“Psionics seem more honorable. Hand to hand combat more right. Essence weapons that mass destroy entire planetary populations…that’s just cheating.”

“And space monsters that just run into and eat chunks of planets rather than conquering them is also off?”

“Our not being able to talk to them is off. Not being able to argue or negotiate. Not being able to mouth off…”

“You’re having to fight inferiors who have superior power, and not by skill or training.”

“It feels like the universe is being dumbed down,” Paul said, resting his elbows on the railing and pulling up his hood so he could see the spectacular view ahead, which included no less than 6 distant waterfalls coming off a jungle-covered ridge some 15 or more miles away.

“Because you’re outgrowing it?”

“Maybe. I have so much more power now, but I don’t know how to really use it. Nothing feels equal to it.”

“Overkill?”

“Yes, in some ways. A waste of time in others, though not to the people we’re helping.”

“This world you’ve helped immensely through inspiration alone.”

“I’m meant for something more, Cal-com. This stuff is what we do on our vacations.”

The Voku nodded, pulling back his hood until his blue visor was visible, and he looked over at Paul’s smooth, but chiseled face. “It’s time for you to move on to greater challenges while your second gen takes over your previous work.”

“What greater challenges?” Paul asked, looking at him.

“Not the Hadarak. You learned how to beat them when you beat the lizards. Now you’re just adapting the methods to a slightly different enemy. Essence alters the equation, but you’ve made the necessary adjustments. Now it’s just a matter of naval fleet strength accumulation.”

“What else is left?” Paul asked, almost pleading with him for something bigger to do.

“Solve the mystery of the universe.”

The Archon looked back out at the jungle and the waterfalls. “Doesn’t that involve greater Essence knowledge?”

“Now I am suspecting that you don’t just dislike Essence combat, but that you somehow hate it. Explain.”

“We used Uriti Essence to upgrade faster,” Paul said with disgust. “We didn’t just use our own. We didn’t earn it, and someone else out there might not be earning it either and getting way ahead of us. It’s like we’re racing to see who can become the biggest battery, not the best warrior.”

“Essence users are not warriors,” Cal-com said pithily.

Paul glanced at him. “That’s exactly what I’m feeling.”

“And you fear the non-warriors being able to defeat you, thus making warriors obsolete unless you play the Essence game on their terms.”

“Don’t we have to?”

“So you’ve lost your main nemesis, who essentially taught you everything by trying to kill you using advanced technology, psionics, and techniques that were wasted on their darkside empire. You learned them, turned them to the lightside, became superior warriors despite the impossibility of it, and now your warrior status is superseded, potentially, by a bunch of lazy, fat living batteries that do nothing more than donate some Essence every day for a million years.”

“You’ve been hanging out with me so much you’re picking up some of my vocabulary tendencies. You’re losing your polish.”

“Am I wrong?”

“I can’t change the universe,” Paul said defeatedly. “I feel that it should be different, but I can’t find anything I’m missing.”

“The game isn’t what you originally believed it to be.”

“Essence ruined everything,” Paul admitted. “And yet it has given us the ability to survive the Hadarak. It’s not optional, and we can’t turn it off in our enemies. We’ve been forced to play their game or become irrelevant on the galactic level.”

“Why can’t you forge a superior path?”

“I’m trying. We all are. We have been. We can’t find one.”

“And you fear one doesn’t exist.”

“Yes.”

“I brought you here to show you that the galaxy can take care of itself now. Even those outside your empire. You’ve succeeded enough you can let them continue the crusade, despite you always being a little better at it than them. But all of this can be destroyed by an enemy they cannot fight if you and the others do not keep advancing. You can help these people a little by being personally involved in actions that millions of Star Force personnel can accomplish. Or you can potentially save them all by growing stronger than future threats before they get here. You have to stop being Archons and become the Vanguard. You’ve been doing both your entire life, but now you’ve got others to handle the Archon duties. You need to specialize and take on the challenge of Essence sucking. Either make it your own, or find a way to surpass it.”

Paul’s eyes narrowed as he looked into the Voku’s blue visor that shielded his three tiny eyes. “Surpass it? Do you know something that I don’t?”

“Unlikely. But I recognize that you know something that I don’t. Your misgivings about Essence are obviously coming from some sense that I do not possess. You know something. You just can’t articulate it. There is an imbalance. That much is clear. Warriors will always be superior. If they are not, then there is not something wrong with the universe. There is something wrong with your perception of it.”

“Or our belief in warrior supremacy was wrong.”

“You would not have survived the V’kit’no’sat war if it was not true.”

That one comment seemed to settle Paul a bit. “Where do I start to track this down?”

“Go back and verify everything, looking for a variance. And to do that, you have to become ‘small’ before you can become ‘large’ again.”

“How am I doing so far?”

“Crude progress. You have forgotten how to relax.”

Paul sighed. “Any suggestions?”

“You must become vulnerable in a situation where there is no threat while amongst threats.”

Paul thought back to his high school days. “Like skinny dipping in the high school pool when the lights are out but the janitor is in the next room and could hear you if you got too noisy or if he just randomly chose to come out the side door?”

“I have not heard you tell that story before.”

“Didn’t happen to me, but I was told about a group of seniors doing it and it stuck with me.”

“Why were senior citizens in your school?”

Paul smiled. “Old Earth terms were conflicting at times. ‘Seniors’ meant our eldest class of students within the school. Not the eldest people in our civilization.”

“Were these seniors male or female?”

“Female. Cheerleaders actually.”

“And they were sexually desirable?”

“The most so in the school.”

“I am amazed how you Archons have risen above the base sexual desires and yet you still prioritize much on it, including memories.”

“When you’re not fully developed, even lazy seniors seem like the hottest thing in the universe. It’s a matter of perspective.”

“And now no one is more fit than you, so no females are as desirable?”

“Not even close. Those memories cannot be approached now.”

“So you cling to them because they give you a false grasp of the superior?”

“It was an accurate assessment at the time. I’ve just outgrown them by eons.”

“But you wish you had such superiors again?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then you do not crave mating, socializing, or peerdom. You are drawn to superiority. To leveling up. And the people on this planet are the opposite of this. You have lost your target lock on the superior and do not know how to find it again.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Not yet, but I’m working on it. Are you hungry?”

Paul laughed. “Actually I am. Odd, considering we haven’t done more than walk.”

“Come then. Food is essential and not a divergence from the path of the warrior. Pursuing it is therefore on the proper path, if only for a few steps.”

“Food it is then,” Paul said, pulling his hood back over his face as Cal-com did the same. “Lead on, and try to find something that won’t make us both puke. What we passed earlier was not promising…”

8

April 17, 154930

Solar System (Home One Kingdom)

Earth

Taryn-047 stood in an isolation chamber inside Atlantis with nothing but herself and a pillar in front of her. It was made of blue crystal like the Responders in the Temples, but this was of Star Force design and operated a bit differently. She pointed her bare hand at it, with her first two fingers locked together like a gun barrel, and with a gentle squeeze of the muscles in her hand she triggered an Essence attack to fire a little orb of light towards it.

It hit…a little lower than she’d intended…and Taryn adjusted her aim, knowing the attack was more about how she released it from her fingers than where her fingers were pointed. The Essence pooled in her fingers again, gripping the air molecules around it and condensing them into a river of closely packed molecules, essentially squeezing the extra energy out of them and causing them to turn into plasma as she bound them up in Essence and launched them across the 8 meter gap to her target.

The Binder technique was one of many the Neofan had taught Star Force. It allowed for molecular locking, compression, and expansion on will. A more gruesome use of it was to enwrap a target and crush them down into a tenth of their normal size…or to expand them, essentially blowing them up as you pulled apart their molecules further than they could go while still locked together in the form of your body.

But a civilized use of it allowed you to do a lot of management actions…in this case keeping the plasma together long enough to hit the target, as well as the compression done beforehand to squeeze out the energy so that it could be delivered to the target.

Some of the Essence would be absorbed by the blue pillar on hit, and it would be transported down into a collection system that fed into the city’s central reservoir. It was a Magicite technology, but one linked into the planet’s defense grid. The reservoir was one of 194 on the planet that was filled by tankers coming from the Uriti, as well as small donations by the Essence users on Earth…and that Essence is what would fuel the planetary defenses, so every bit of practice Taryn got in here contributed a little more to the stored amounts.

Waste not, want not…so all the training equipment designed for Essence abilities was also equipped with collection technology, but you never got the same amount as you used to craft the weapon. Taryn estimated about 20%-25% was being recovered, and that was due to her sloppiness. The better one got with crafting Essence weapons, the less uncrafted energy remained.

But the pillar wasn’t just collecting uncrafted Essence that she was accidentally sending along with the weaponized part. It was also capable of taking crafted Essence and de-crafting it…but that required Essence use by the pillar itself, so there was no point in that when the amount collected would be less than what was used…except when you wanted to practice very damaging techniques. When the ‘safety’ setting was activated on the pillar, it would absorb all those attacks and not be destroyed itself…or the walls and the rooms beyond them.

Taryn’s little light show wasn’t anywhere near that damaging, and the blue crystal was too tough for a little plasma to mess with it, so she was just doing some target practice to work on her aim when Wes-049 melted the door behind her to expose the hallway through the otherwise smooth-walled egg-shaped room as he walked in.

“You forgot to knock,” Taryn said, ignoring him as she continued to shoot very slowly and methodically.

“We already have bioplasma that is far more accurate. What are you trying to achieve?”

“Just a little skill work. What’s up?”

“Paul just conquered a star system on his vacation with Cal-com.”

Taryn blinked and turned around. “What? Where?”

“A system called Ha’ven Nu’meori.”

“Never heard of it.”

“We had an embassy there. Primitive world, didn’t care for us much, and was apparently following the rules. Paul walked into an assassination attempt, did some telepathic searching, and found out the bastards were making a habit of it. All nicely off the books so no executions were recorded.”

“And Paul’s called for an invasion?”

“Already done it. Duke Corrington is there now and Paul and Cal-com are off to somewhere else.”

“So Sean is right. We’ve got a problem hiding in obscurity under our collective noses.”

“So it would seem, unless this was an anomaly.”

“Fat chance of that. We’re going to need a surveillance push into all of these non-Star Force systems before we even think about going into the frontier en mass.”

“Yeah,” Wes agreed. “Looks like.”

“Did Sean say so?”

“Not yet. But it’s getting painfully clear we’ve let too much slide locally in the name of sovereignty. It seems we can’t catch a break.”

“Wrong. The Zak’de’ron leaving is a huge break.”

“So why doesn’t that lower our workload any?”

“Because the galaxy is too damn big when you’re trying to be responsible for all of it,” Taryn said, turning around and firing again…this time missing her mark by twice the previous amount.

“You pulled your right elbow too much,” Wes noted. “Why don’t you just point and release?”

“That’s not as fun,” Taryn said, pulling up both hands and firing three shots from each rapid fire into the pillar in what looked like a shotgun pattern rather than a sharpshooter’s work.

“If you say so,” Wes said, looking at her shoddy targeting. “Did you have any more thoughts on last night?”

“Yeah. I have no idea what Wilson is talking about.”

“Me neither. I can’t find any disadvantage to using Essence…other than by overdrawing. But he seemed damn certain about it.”

“I know. But all he has is a gut instinct, and I can’t confirm it. Though I do like real guns better…except these have unlimited ammo,” Taryn said, holding up her paired fingers as if they were pistols.

“Any ideas on how we can confirm it?”

“Stop using Essence and see if something changes.”

“Are you volunteering?”

“Nope. I’ve got work to do. You?”

“I’ve been trying to feel any draining effect while using it, but I got nada. And Wilson didn’t suggest we stop using it. I wonder why?”

“Holding back isn’t how we figure things out,” Taryn said, firing another two shots before turning back to face Wes. “When in doubt, shoot about.”

“If there was a problem with Essence, Kara should have it more than us.”

“Yeah, and she’s still strong. I don’t get what he’s getting at, but it’s bugging me too. He doesn’t pull practical jokes…though this would actually be a good one.”

“I don’t find it funny.”

“It’s not. But as an idiot check, it has some merit.”

“You think he’s wrong?”

“I think I’m going to keep an open mind. If Wilson can’t pinpoint it, then it might not exist, but something is off with us. I think it’s more boredom than anything waiting on the fleet to build up before we can take it to the Hadarak. I hate waiting.”

“Paul didn’t come back, so I’m guessing he isn’t having much success self-analyzing either.”

“He’s not. He has Cal-com to help him analyze.”

“Even worse.”

Taryn sighed, then threw her hands wide in surrender. “We’re all missing something. We don’t know where to go from here other than to repeat the past. Either there is nothing else or it’s well hidden.”

“Or we’re all stupid and missing the obvious.”

“How could we be at this point?”

“We’ve had to deal with plateaus before. Now all we do is throw Essence at it. Maybe Wilson has a point in that.”

“That it’s messing with our perspective? Ok. For the next week no more Essence use. We’ll play old school rules.”

“No psionics either?”

“Not what I meant, but maybe that’s not a bad idea. We’ll need to use inhibitors or it just won’t feel right holding back.”

“We don’t have inhibitors for Essence...at least not any that I’m using.”

“True, but there’s a difference between not choosing to fly and not being able to. Psionic inhibitors while we promise not to use Essence. We can let Wilson figure up some special challenges for us on those parameters.”

“Put up your pistols then,” Wes said, looking at her hands.

Taryn fake twirled her ‘pistols’ and put them into nonexistent hip holsters. “Done. We’re going to have a lot more free time without psionics and Essence to work on.”

“When’s the last time you did a long run?”

“I did 40 miles last week.”

“I said long. Like 20 hours.”

“I haven’t done anything that long in…well, actually I can’t remember.”

“Up for a group run? Then communal nap time?”

“Sure. Are we racing this or just running?”

“Just running. Maybe we’ll knock someone’s brain loose enough to get an epiphany.”

“So we are going to run each other into the ground,” Taryn predicted.

“Not at first,” Wes said, shrugging. “You know how it works.”

“No turning blonde then. We make this legitimately old school.”

“Good idea. How soon?”

“Couple hours. See how many of the others you can grab.”

“On it,” Wes said, turning and walking out of the room as the doorway melted back into a wall as Taryn was about to command the pillar to retract…then stopped herself before using her telepathy. Instead she walked over and hit the physical button, then walked over to the wall and found the tiny icon there and opened the door with a finger press as the pillar sank into the floor and disappeared, as did she, walking out and leaving the chamber in powered down mode.

Paul and Cal-com were spending another day walking around a different city on Turron and just practicing being ‘small’ when they tired of the subterfuge and instead set out for the primitive regions of the planet beyond the cities.

They purchased supplies from the locals, with both of them hefting large backpacks over their robes as they walked out the city gates into the desert beyond. There was nothing to see except sand dunes and a few towers in the distance. Those were visual markers for the people out here to use, as well as comm towers to link the few mining sites, reclusive resorts, and other spots of civilization out here, but most of it was just empty wasteland to explore…and apparently many people did, for the line going out the gate was long and delayed, with both outgoing groups and incoming ones.

Some had more gear, some less, and from the look of it a few of the groups were set up for multiple weeks in the wilderness, though Paul and Cal-com only had provisions for 8 days…and with Paul’s advanced metabolism that really meant 3.

After passing through the gate and logging their credentials…which they’d also had to acquire with fake IDs to avoid attention…they began walking side by side in the sand as the sun baked down on top of their hooded heads.

“Are these supposed to be heavy?” Paul asked after they were out of earshot of the wall gate and the ingoing crowd assembled there.

“After a while it probably will be. Are you finding it too light?” the Voku asked.

“Just wondering how much my perspective has changed training in the High G chamber.”

“With this dry air I’m wondering if we packed enough water. Do you consume extra amounts as well as food?”

“Unfortunately yes. I’d wanted to take off where the others weren’t going, but we should probably hit one of the oases to top off before heading further out.”

“Where exactly do you want to go?”

“Somewhere we can be conspicuous and anonymous at the same time.”

“Then I recommend we head southeast, across that low ridgeline, and strike out from the New Luminance outpost. The Sand Sea is beyond that, and it has as a Triple L hazard rating. The second highest they have. Hardly anyone goes there.”

“What’s the hardest?”

Cal-com pulled out the folded up plastic map he’d been given at the supply store and checked the legend. “Skull and crossbones. Those aren’t allowed at all due to specific hazards.”

“Any of those close by?”

“Not if you want to get away from people. The ones I’m seeing are nearby establishments or popular trails.”

“For example?”

“A decommissioned fuel processing facility that has a number of hazardous chemical leaks that leeched into the sand and couldn’t be fully cleaned up.”

“Couldn’t be?” Paul asked.

“That’s what the info bubble says.”

“Sand sea it is then. You’re navigating, and don’t cheat.”

“That would be counterproductive,” Cal-com agreed, not accessing his armor shoulder blades hidden beneath his robe. He checked the map again and correlated it to the visual markers on the otherwise bland horizon that seemed to go on forever without definition as heat ripples and dunes seemed to blend together everywhere. “This way…”

9

Paul and Cal-com walked through the sand alone for the next 7 hours, following a barely visible trail of footsteps that were already disappearing before the wind kicked up. Now it was starting to get bad, and Paul was grateful to have the hooded robe to keep the sand off his face, though Cal-com didn’t have to worry about it getting into his eyes thanks to his visor.

Neither man used their Essence, nor their psionics, nor their armor…and it was the first time in a long time that Paul had to deal with blowing sand and wind the old fashioned way, with him starting to gain a newfound respect for the usefulness of his powers that had somehow become the norm.

In fact he was realizing that had happened a lot more than he’d noticed. Just walking through the sand as his feet dug in several inches with each step provided an old challenge that he hadn’t bothered to try in recent years because he had better ways of traveling. Just walking through it was inefficient, required awkward muscle movements, and his shoes were somehow still filling up with it.

“Maybe we should have got those boots,” he noted as he kept his left hand on the top of his hood to keep it from blowing completely across his face and blocking his vision as the wind was coming from their left.

“No. We would be even more sore now if we had. They were not built for our pace.”

“If I didn’t have a skin upgrade I’d be bleeding from the grinding on my heels by now.”

“That’s because you chose to wear low socks and running shoes.”

“For some reason I thought that wise.”

“And now?”

“I have a newfound hate for sand. Do you want to keep going in the dark?”

“I can with my nightvision. The question is do you want to continue?”

“Can you navigate if the storm gets worse?”

“No,” he said, stopping and pulling a 360 as he scanned the horizon as Paul stayed put and continued to shield his face with his hood. “And it’s considerably darker to the north. I estimate no more than an hour before it reaches us, and it will be nightfall before then.”

“Can you see any terrain within walking distance?”

“Nothing but shallow dunes. Where we are standing is no less desirable. Shall we make camp here?”

Paul responded by slipping his backpack off his shoulders and letting it ‘thump’ into the soft sand that was moving a little on the surface in the wind squirrels. “Thought you’d never ask. I hope this gear is as good as advertised.”

“We can always ask for a refund?”

Paul looked his way, then squinted as a bit of sand hit his eyes. “Was that a joke?”

“Perhaps some sarcasm. I have learned a great deal more from you on this trip, and you may be right about picking up on some of your tendencies.”

“No I like it. It suits you,” Paul said, kneeling next to his pack and pulling it in front of his robe to shield it from the flying dust as he opened it up and pulled out their tent.

Cal-com came over and helped him stretch it out, so it wouldn’t fly away in the wind. Unlike Star Force tents, this one was a flimsy material that resembled cloth, and would be held aloft by ridge poles. The fabric acted as a good sail, and the two of them had some difficulty spreading it out on the sand without it blowing away, but then managed without having to use any of their powers, though both of them had to stand on it with their knees to keep it in position as they began scooping sand with their hands onto the two rigid ‘wings’ that extended 4 feet out on either side.

They, when unfolded, made a platform at ground level, and onto that the sand was dumped for stability. They got a few inches thick covering it before they risked standing up, and seeing that it held firm, the pair began popping up the fabric dome from the inside and fixing the ridge poles in place as they fought the wind to make all the connections fit.

Once done they went back outside and scooped another foot of sand over top the wings to ensure it didn’t erode away enough to move the tent, then they did a little landscaping around the entrance in order to direct the newly sprouted dunes from building up in a bad place…like directly over the tent.

By the time they got done the sunlight was nearly gone, and not from the storm to the north. It was completely black in that direction, but a little spec of sun was still visible in the west, though it gave almost no light on Paul’s footing. A small lantern on the top of the tent gave him a waypoint to work off of, but he was basically walking around in dark footing, having to feel his way through the sand and being glad for once he had worn the thinner shoes, because boots tended to dull your connection to the environment…especially the clod hoppers that were for sale in the excursion store.

He turned and looked back at the splinter of sunlight fighting with the blowing sand for possession of the horizon and having to keep the hood on his right side held firm by his hand to block the wind from his face. It peppered his fingers but didn’t cut them as he starred at the sunlight as it began to dip behind a distant dune.

For some reason the storm and the oncoming darkness were a comfort. As if they were blocking out the rest of the galaxy and reducing him down to just himself and this spot, even with Cal-com nearby. He knew he could see through it if he turned on his Pefbar, but right now that thought wasn’t very tempting. He liked being blind to the universe, and it being blind to him, even if that wasn’t entirely true. Certain orbital sensors could find them through the storm, but not all. Thought for the moment he let himself forget all that and just go back to being a simple Human that didn’t have that much tactical knowledge.

Paul sighed, though he couldn’t hear it. The wind was too loud and the sand hitting his robe sounded like sleet, but he stood there and watched until the last of the sunlight disappeared, with the transition happening more rapidly than he anticipated. One moment it was there, then boom…it was gone and totally black. Not even a little glow in the sky left to mark its proximity over the horizon.

Paul felt very small looking out into that pitch black and seeing nothing, but feeling the wind hammering him on his robe. He turned around and saw the small orange light marking their tent and walked towards it on memory, stumbling once on a new dune that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. He caught his balance quick enough, but the surprise was shocking and refreshing, and like any good Archon he adapted to it, taking smaller steps and giving himself plenty of leverage as he did so, finding some steps sinking in more than others as he made his way around to the side that held the entrance, though he couldn’t see it until he was only 3 feet away.

Paul opened the zipper on the leeward side of the tent and stooped down to walk in, then spun around and zipped it back up behind him as a second brighter lantern hung in the same spot on the tent roof, inverse to the exterior one.

“Night is upon us,” the Human said, pulling off his robe and seeing trails of sand pouring off it onto the floor. “Nuts.”

“Here,” Cal-com said, handing him a brush and collection pan. “I had the same problem.”

“At least the vendor’s package anticipated this,” Paul said thankfully as he knelt down and cleaned up most of the sand, then unzipped the door enough to toss it outside before resealing up the interior and dampening the sound of the ever increasing wind.

“You sound better.”

“I feel better. Logically I don’t know why, and for some reason I don’t care to find out. Being ‘small’ is easier in the storm I think.”

“Isolation without responsibility. We have no one to protect. No one to monitor. No one that we can monitor if we wanted. Our responsibility is only in this tent and to each other. The storm and the night create a void into which we shelter from rather than fight. When was the last time you sheltered from anything?”

“I’ve been in ships and internal cities so long I don’t know the answer to that. I haven’t spent much time outdoors in general, except in my armor. And never a sandstorm.”

“Never?”

“Have you?”

“Such things were required of all Voku, as hardening for battle. We were sent to many harsh environments where we could make mistakes without it getting us killed. That way when we faced similar conditions in battle there would be less of a learning curve.”

“Most of Star Force’s training occurs in indoor parks where we determine the weather. I can’t recall ever being in a sandstorm training session though. Sand dunes, yes. But a storm on them…I don’t think so.”

“Then this is new for you?”

“It is, but I’ve always had this feeling in storms…though until this moment I had forgotten. I feel more alive in them.”

“As you also feel more connected to life in danger in general?”

“That may be true, but this is different. There’s no one trying to kill us. This is player versus environment. I guess I’d come to think of the Hadarak as the environment, and forgotten what the real environment was.”

“Your Excalibur is a poor location to spend so much time for a person of your responsibilities.”

Paul glared at him. “I feel obliged to defend my ship, but I’m failing to find a means.”

“Naval is a part-time Archon activity. Not a full-time one.”

“And yet the Hadarak don’t give us time off on the Grand Border.”

“That’s why you recruited the V’kit’no’sat. So they can guard the Border constantly, freeing up the High Guard and others to do other vital tasks.”

“That wasn’t the only reason. And in truth not the primary one.”

“You wanted to save them from themselves?”

“It’s a lot more complicated than that, but in doing so we destroyed the purpose that had driven us into becoming Archons.”

“You ended your quest by completing it.”

“Yeah, we did. And part of me is missing it…” Paul said, about to put a caveat there, but instead he let it hang.

“If you could travel through time and redo it, from the beginning, would you?”

“And change things?”

“No, just relive it. Suppose your memories were wiped and you would end up doing the exact same things again, over and over. Every time you finish the war you restart. Does that seem appealing?”

“Not with all the work we have to do now, and have done since.”

“Put that aside.”

Paul considered his question for another 20 seconds before answering. “Yes and no. I felt more like a warrior then, but I also feel the journey isn’t about experience, it’s about accomplishments, and when you achieve one your purpose is to move on to the next. I just ran out of nexts.”

“So you are not nostalgic then. You do not wish to go backwards, you are only searching the past to find a clue to your next challenge.”

“Aptly put,” Paul said, feeling the vagueness in his mind crystalize to match his friend’s words.

“You belong in the storm,” Cal-com said wistfully, almost as if he envied him. “You need to return to civilization periodically, but never to stay. In the midst of the storm is where you belong. And only there will you find your purpose.”

“Why does my purpose keep changing and evading me? Every time I find it I lose it again in time.”

“That is simple to answer,” the Voku’s voice said, returning to its normal crisp and formal tone. “The storm is not static. It is always in motion, always changing, never holding a due course. You must adapt to it, and in that adaptation you find your warrior nature at it’s most necessary. Those who are unworthy do not survive the storm…”

“…and only those who are worthy can guide others through it,” Paul finished the line from one of the more recent scifi classics called Hotem’ba.

“Star Force was in the heart of the storm before. Now it is more or less calm. You achieved that, and quadrillions of people, at the minimum, are immensely better for it.”

“But I have to seek another storm, for I’ll never be content in my victory.”

“Warriors never are, for more than a vacation or time to heal up or train. We always have to seek out the storm if it doesn’t come to us.”

“Why aren’t the Hadarak that storm?”

“The storm is relative to your skills. A storm to someone else is a stiff wind to you. The Hadarak are not the V’kit’no’sat. The V’kit’no’sat, if given the same technology as the Hadarak…”

“Intelligence,” Paul said, seeing the obvious. “The Hadarak are strong, but in a brutish, dumb way. Not a worthy opponent.”

“Especially not when you can’t even talk to them. They’re like a swarm of insects the size of this storm, rather than an assassin to fight hand to hand, skill against skill.”

“Skills…are wasted on the Hadarak. You defeat 100 of their minions and they just grow 1000 more to replace them. Everything I’ve worked for, except naval, is pointless against their storm.”

“Then perhaps they are not your type of storm. Just a worthy side quest that needs done.”

“A long side quest,” Paul said as he turned when he heard the zipper behind him pull down.

There was someone outside, and had come up on them without him realizing it because he’d shut down all of his extra senses…but the hand that reached in to pull back the flap was black as the night and mostly covered with a robe.

Cal-com walked in and started to reseal the flap as Paul looked back to where he’d been sitting…seeing him gone.

“We have a tool for the sand,” the newly arrived one said as he took off his robe and rivulets of it dropped to the floor next to Paul’s…which was still inside and not thrown out like he remembered.

“Where did you go?”

“To relieve myself,” he said, seeing the odd look on Paul’s face in the white glow of the overhead lamp. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve just been sitting here having a conversation with you,” he said, opening up his full senses and searching the area with Pefbar, telepathy, and multiple Essence techniques.

“You were standing on the far side of the tent when I came out. I saw you in my visor and went the opposite way. I’ve only now returned.”

Paul pointed to the sand on the floor. “I cleaned that up too, with a brush and pan that you gave me out of your pack,” he said, sitting on the floor dumbfounded. “Search my mind to see if I hallucinated it.”

Cal-com walked over to him and put his hand on Paul’s forehead, bypassing the Ikrid blocks via touch and searching his recent memories.

“It was not me,” he said gravely. “If the sand has not moved, then it was not real. Did you sense any telepathy present?”

“None.”

“Another dream test manifesting?”

“Those were always when I was asleep, and we got them all. We checked the genetic coding to make sure.”

“Do you sense danger?” Cal-com said in all seriousness as he released Paul’s mind, having run through the conversation his doppelganger had just had with him.

“Not specifically. But I have no idea how that’s even possible.”

“Do Humans have waking dreams?”

“Not this one,” Paul said, looking around and outside the tent, even below and above it, with his senses and finding nothing but the storm outside and the normal contents within. “Show me the tool for the sand.”

Cal-com dug into his pack and pulled out a brush and pan. “Are these what you saw?”

“Exactly. And I’ve never laid eyes on them before.”

“Nor should you. They were sealed up inside the kit when we bought them, and I don’t recall seeing any unbundled ones for sale.”

“What is going on here?” Paul said, freaked out enough that his heart was beating heavier…and for a Saiyan that meant it was absolutely racing.

“There is wisdom in the words. Wisdom that exceeds my own. I had not made all those connections.”

“Neither had I,” Paul said, sitting crosslegged on the ground and not sure how moving would improve the situation. “What the hell just happened?”

“I do not know, but the insights are valuable none the less. When we sleep, we take shifts.”

“I don’t think I’ll be sleeping anytime soon.”

“Yes you will,” Cal-com said, putting his hand back on Paul’s head. “You’re exhausted.”

Paul blinked, then moved his arms and legs around a bit, finally noticing that his body was more than just sore from the walking. He was absolutely drained of energy.

“Ok, now I’m a little scared,” he admitted.

“As am I. Do we stay here and face it, or flee back to the settlement?”

That brought a little steel to Paul’s spine. “Stay. But I have a bad feeling about this.”

“At least your sense of humor is intact.”

Paul huffed, not realizing he’d quoted Han Solo. “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” he said, pulling out one of his armored gauntlets from his pack and sliding it over his right hand, through which he used the regenerator to scan his body and identify the source of his fatigue.

“Grab me some food.”

“What did you find?”

“My cellular energy has been depleted. As much as if I’d taken a 15 hour run and pushed it hard.”

“Do you want your ambrosia?” he asked, referencing what was in Paul’s pack.

“No, I just need food,” he said, taking a Star Force ration bar from Cal-com along with a pouch of crunchy cereal from the local market, which he then began downing rapidly.

“You do not hallucinate calorie loss.”

“I…know,” he said between bites.

“A malfunction in your Saiyan metabolism?”

“I checked…it’s…stable.”

“Most likely an internal manifestation, rather than an exterior intrusion?”

“Telepathy doesn’t deplete cellular energy, but I can’t rule anything out. I have no idea what happened.”

“Was the conversation beneficial to you?”

Paul stopped chewing as he reviewed for a moment. “Yes.”

“Then it either wasn’t random, or a random occurrence triggered a breakthrough that otherwise had eluded you.”

“Still doesn’t…explain how…it happened,” he said, continuing to eat.

“A mystery for us to solve then…amidst the storm.”

“You don’t think that’s random, do you.”

“I do not. But I also have no answers for you.”

“Do a deeper…scan,” Paul said, pointing to his head emphatically as he continued to shove food in his mouth.

10

Paul didn’t get any sleep that night, not that he normally did. An hour, tops, would have been more than enough, but the sense that there was someone else here potentially messing with his mind kept him alert enough he couldn’t have slept if he wanted to. So after spending several hours discussing the situation with Cal-com and his friend being unable to find anything amiss with his mind, Paul stood watch while the Voku got some needed sleep.

By the time he woke the sun had already risen and the storm was past, but still visible on the horizon as it was kicking up enough dust in its wake to say a goodbye to those who had just weathered it as it headed elsewhere on the planet. When Paul came outside the tent he saw a pure blue sky with a hot sun rising in the east and kicking up some weird colors in the dust storm to the south, but by the time they got the tent packed up along with the rest of their supplies the storm was over the horizon and out of view, leaving a tranquil and quickly heating desert with no markings of the trail they had followed here.

The dunes had all shifted, and if it wasn’t for the towers in the distance they would have no visible markers to navigate by.

“Does your fatigue remain?” Cal-com asked as he pulled on his backpack as Paul waited a few steps away with his already on.

“Not sure how much is fatigue and how much is soreness from the sand. You’d think as fit as I am it wouldn’t bother me, but the muscle movements are different enough to find new inefficiencies.”

“You can’t calibrate to everything simultaneously. Does the morning offer any new revelations?”

“Are you real Cal-com or vision Cal-com?” Paul said sarcastically.

“Apparently the vision form is wiser,” he said as they began to walk, with Paul following Cal-com’s lead.

“I still can’t understand how I could see the brush before it happened if it was just a weird dream.”

“That does seem illogical.”

“But if someone was in my head, where are they and what are they?”

“Shall we resume our lack of senses, or do we stay alert?”

“I don’t know where to start, but as long as we’re walking in the broad daylight, let’s just resume the way we were until we have something to scan.”

“This is also an exercise in what to do when you can’t find the solution to something.”

“Meaning I either sit here and think until I figure something out or just blindly move on?”

“Those are the two prevailing strategies,” the Voku said as his foot sunk down up to his knee in a soft dune, tripping him up enough that he fell forward on his hands, pinned in place.

Paul offered his hand for leverage, and helped pull him out stepping backwards as they looked at their navigational options.

“Fine sand,” Cal-com determined. “It must have piled up from the storm. It won’t support our weight.”

Paul slipped off his pack and shuffled his feet around, then jumped straight up into the air several meters before falling back down in the same spot and hunching on landing to cushion his fall.

“The dune is only 12 or so meters wide. Quicker to go across than walk around,” he said, grabbing his pack and throwing it over the crest that was slightly taller than they were.

A moment later Paul jumped again, this time going lateral, and disappeared from view as Cal-com slipped off his pack and threw it over as well, but he knew he couldn’t jump that far.

Instead he laid down on the sand horizontally and parallel with the tract of the dune, wrapping his robe around him tight as he began to roll up the incline slowly, digging in as he did so, but with his weight spread out he was able to stay aloft without sinking in deep.

Inch by inch he crawled up to the peak, then plowed through it until he began rolling freely down the far side until he hit the firmer sand at the bottom. He rolled out of his cocoon and stood up with a twirl of sand coming off his robes, then retrieved his pack from Paul’s waiting hand.

“Jumping is preferred,” he said, a little dizzy but not letting it show in his movements. “I envy your mobility.”

“There are some psionics that I can’t turn off,” he said in apology. “Kex being one of them. But I liked your technique.”

“I dislike the sand in my collar,” Cal-com said, walking on as he tried to shake some more of it out without using his Lachka.

“Feel free to cheat on that.”

“No. If we are to remain small, we must deal with things in a small manner. Your Kex and Saiyan genetics have become a part of you, not a temporary boost. You must find your smallness within them.”

“Within?”

“You’re not a regular Human, Paul. Just as I am not a Human. I am far larger, so my steps through the sand are easier than yours. But I am ‘small’ in the same way you are despite our differences in race.”

“Small as in no powers, just genetic enhancements?”

“My entire race is a genetic enhancement. Our origins are lost to history. Perhaps the Elders know where we came from, but our biology has been either designed or designed into what it is now. We are stronger, faster, and smarter than most races, but wisdom is not something that can be encoded. The pilot inside charts the course, no matter how many incentives and diversions are involved. When we focus on only our path, in our natural state, we find our smallness. Your natural state is different than that of your birth, and that adjustment is not something I have to make. You must embrace what you have become, else you will always be holding yourself back to find your smallness…and you will fail in doing so.”

“Why would that guarantee failure?”

“Because only the large hold back. The small act with their full potential, and often it is not enough. They survive by luck and wisdom rather than brute force or racial attributes. These are both utilized, but rarely enough to survive.”

Paul looked around at the blankness of the desert, save for the sand ripples and needle-like towers in the distance, and put aside his pertinent mystery for a moment. “You mean we have to be the underdog again?”

“I am unfamiliar with that term.”

“The one who is not dominant.”

“When one is the player versus the environment, the player is never dominant.”

“True. And this fatigue plus the heat is draining me of water. If I run out I’ll be dead unless I can fly out of here.”

“Let the realness of that threat ground your mind. Thoughts of responsibility for others will diminish as you are forced to focus on your immediate needs.”

“My enemies might not be able to kill me in combat, but they can still starve me to death?”

“And only your wisdom will aid you in avoiding such a fate,” Cal-com said, pulling out a water bottle and handing it to Paul, who took a very long swig of it before passing it back.

The two continued to walk, navigating off the towers position, for several hours until they reached an outpost. New Luminance was the name, and most of it was below ground level, making it invisible to those moving across the desert until you came upon it. One moment there were endless sand dunes, and the next you came across the peak of one to see a dug out city some 20 meters deep in the desert with the building tops setting slightly lower than the surrounding dunes.

“There it is,” Paul said, shocked at its sudden arrival. “Why don’t they have some tower or light for navigation?”

Cal-com used his shoulder plates for a moment, mentally linking into his armor systems. “There is a signal beacon, but a visual reference would also be appropriate. The design of the building layout is also inefficient.”

“Yeah, it’s not based on anything we have,” Paul said, following him down to the poured stone edge walkway that had a short railing to keep people from falling off as they stumbled upon the city, though trails of sand already were pouring over the edge.

Paul looked down and saw a pit around the inner edge of the wall, and at the base were piles of sand with little robots scooping it up and removing it at a lethargic pace, but on the other side of the pit was a staired incline that led up to the outer buildings that appeared free of most sand, including the walkways that were also made of poured stone.

“There,” Cal-com said, pointing to his right.

Paul followed the line of his finger to where a bridge was seen descending from the railing at an angle down to level with the sunken ground.

“You want to stay the night or move on?”

“Our purpose lies beyond. We need supplies only, as well as an additional water canister at the minimum.”

“I think I can handle a second pack easy enough,” Paul offered. “Let’s get enough to stay out a few extra days, then get lost in the Sand Sea for a while. If I have another vision I’d prefer to not be around others when it happens.”

“Agreed,” Cal-com said, leading the way down into the outpost that contained several thousand inhabitants, though many were vagrants such as them, searching the stores and restaurants for the luxuries of life while out in the harsh desert. Paul did buy another pack and straps, lashing them together into what looked like a monstrous weight, but when he put it on it didn’t seem to unbalance him, though he was leaning forward a bit more than normal.

After two hours of shopping and a quick stay at an Inn for the use of a shower only, Paul and Cal-com headed back out, heading southeast and into the Sand Sea after crossing another ridge that allowed them to look out at the complete blankness before them from a height of a dozen meters as a bit of rocky outcropping was visible poking out of the endless sand.

“That looks like all soft sand,” Paul noted.

“For as far as I can see, even with enhancement. I do not think anyone else will be out there without a vehicle.”

“Can you see any of them?”

Cal-com did a scan with his visor, picking up something far to the left, with him pointing in the direction.

“One distant object moving, probably on a tract to the High Desert resort on the far side. If we head further to the south we should be where no one else has cause to go.”

“If this is supposed to make me feel small, it’s starting to work. Even flying this seems like it would go on forever.”

“As powerful as you have become, you are still a mere spec compared to a planet.”

“Yet the specs are fighting planet-sized Hadarak,” Paul noted as they just stood and took in the view for a moment.

“With wisdom, not your bodies. The small only become large when applying wisdom, and the wiser they are the greater effect they can have. But they will always be small, though they must envision the perspective of largeness in order to understand it.”

“Like directing a massive space battle and forgetting you are onboard one of the tiny ships?”

“Indeed. But Star Force doesn’t build tiny ships anymore.”

“I got tired of losing them,” Paul scoffed, cupping his hands over his eyes but still unable to see the vehicle Cal-com said was there. “Can you handle the jump down?”

“If you go first to measure the sand depth, yes.”

Without a word Paul hopped off the edge and fell down to the bottom, hitting feet first and toppling over from Cal-com’s point of view, with him being dragged to the ground by the weight of his pack. He slid out of its harness and stood up, walking left and right while dragging his feet in the sand until he found a deeper spot, upon which he drew an ‘X’ with his hand.

“Drop here,” he yelled up.

Cal-com took his pack off and tossed it down, with hit hitting near the X but not exactly on it. He waited until Paul pulled it out of the way before jumping with more accuracy and hitting the spot his friend had designated, with his feet sinking in almost up to his knees before his feet hit rigidity and he toppled over suddenly from the awkwardness of not being able to bend his legs forward at the knees for balance.

“The hard ground isn’t very deep,” Paul said, handing the Voku his pack as he stood up and dumped sand out of the folds in his robe. “I think the sand just moves around on it. That’s probably why there are no large dunes. It’s too thin to pile up very high.”

“Or too dry,” Cal-com amended. “The air feels different down here.”

“It does. Why is that?”

“I can’t explain it other than altitude,” he said, pulling out the map and touching a small spot to get it to reveal more data.

“Anything there?”

“It suggests the Sand Sea has no water table beneath it. A hard rock platform baking in the sun with no water from above or below.”

“That doesn’t explain the feel change on the edge of it. My skin is being sucked dry.”

“As is mine, and there are no noticeable air currents in play. Shall I check it?”

“Go ahead,” Paul said, giving his friend the go-ahead to cheat and scan it technologically, saving him from having to do it. Right now he felt small and didn’t want to lose the newfound poise.

“Magma beneath us, running along the ridgeline,” Cal-com reported a few seconds later. “Deep enough not to worry about, but the heat from it is causing the air here to rise along the edge, which draws the drier air from further out in and up.”

“So this is what it’s gonna feel like out there all the time,” Paul said, grimacing.

“Shall we choose an alternative destination?”

Paul looked up at the sky, seeing the sun was well into its descent past the apex. “Another type of storm, I guess. Do you want to try traveling at night instead of the day?”

“I am content either way.”

“You’re the one with the dark skin,” Paul pointed out.

“And the superior genetics. My robe conceals me enough, and I require less water than you do. The choice is yours.”

“Superior genetics my ass,” Paul said, walking ahead of him. “Mine come from Zen’zat.”

“Voku were the Elders’ more recent model.”

“I thought that was the Bo’ja?”

“Yours were not meant to reproduce.”

“Ok, you got me there. But we don’t need a visor.”

“Your squinting says otherwise. My race was designed for environmental hardiness. Yours was upgraded from a weak race of Ter’nat. Zen’zat or no, the base coding is in my favor. You sound like you still find pride in your Zen’zat heritage despite your surpassing them greatly. Why is that?”

“It’s what gave us the psionics when we weren’t supposed to have them. Yes, Humans were messed up somewhat because we were never supposed to reproduce, but we descended from superhumans. I’ve always found validation in that.”

“And when you encountered living Zen’zat?”

“They did not meet all expectations.”

“Then perhaps you were seeing a reflection of your inner self in what you imagined the Zen’zat to be?”

“And what does my inner self look like to you?”

“Greatness,” Cal-com said proudly. “And it uplifts all those who come into contact with you, genetics or no. The Greatness comes from your Core, Paul. Your genetics are useful tools to be thankful for so that you can manifest your internal Greatness, but they are not the source of it.”

“Greatness? I thought I was supposed to be small?”

“They are not incompatible.”

Paul stepped over another small dune, with his feet sinking in relatively deeper than Cal-com’s since Cal-com’s legs were longer, and it didn’t help the soreness in his legs that the sand seemed to flow too much with each step, teasing his foot as to where he would eventually get traction. It made the travel slow, but they got far enough out that they could no longer see the ridgeline past the heat ripples, leaving them in a wasteland that defied all dimension. The view was the same in all directions, and there were no comm towers this far out to visually navigate by. All they had was the position of the sun, and when it set the temperature began to fall quickly, but not enough to actually become cold.

Just before all light went out they stopped and set up camp, finding it a bit more difficult to pile up enough sand on the tent wings when it didn’t want to lump up, but a lot of scooping and overpiling later and they had it secured and their little orange light on top of the tent was soon joined by the stars in a very clear sky above.

Cal-com and Paul sat outside looking at them and talking more, eventually turning their lantern off and letting their eyes adjust to the starlight only, with the cloudless sky becoming quite vivid over time, and the ‘smallness’ within Paul increased tenfold. Right now he was just his own body siting on a rock that was sailing amongst the stars in the great ocean of the universe.

And looking up at it all, the fatigue finally caught up to him and he dropped off to sleep before he could even think about going inside the tent.

Cal-com noticed when Paul nodded off, expecting the nap to only last a matter of minutes, but when it stretched into better than an hour he spoke to him…with no response.

The Voku sat up and spoke again, louder, then crawled over and poked him gently in the arm…still no response.

Cal-com reached out a hand and gently placed it on Paul’s forehead…finding it hotter than usual. When he connected to his mind he was also burnt, for there was a torrent taking place inside him that was both physical and mental, and he couldn’t make contact with his mind through it.

He activated his armor, with the shoulder plates extending out to cover his body inside the robe, and then he extended a hand to him again, using his Regenerator to look inside his body to find out what was happening.

It immediately responded with a request to fix all of the ‘damage’ inside, but Cal-com didn’t allow it. There was cellular damage all over the place, but nothing major. Internal heat production was up, as was his metabolism…with him being very low on water.

Cal-com telekinetically grabbed a bottle out of his pack from inside the tent and flew it into his hand…where he poured it onto his armor and let the Regenerator suck it up and deposit it throughout Paul’s body where needed before the dry air stole it.

The odd readings inside his friend increased as the water was added, at which point Cal-com telekinetically picked up Paul’s body and flew it inside the tent where he set it down and began adding foodstuffs to the Regenerator to supplement Paul’s reserves, but not to actually force changes. Something was happening to him and he needed fuel. It wasn’t an attack, as far as he could determine, but Paul was not in good condition.

Cal-com either had to intervene now or let it run its course…and on instinct he chose the latter, all the while monitoring the changes and trying to figure out what was going on.

When Paul woke it was still dark, and he was inside the tent with the door half open. He didn’t remember coming in here, for the last memory he had was looking up at the stars and feeling so very, very tiny amongst them all.

He coughed, trying to sit up but feeling aches and pains all over…yet his body was very quiet. Deafly quiet.

“Paul?” Cal-com asked from beside him.

“Did something happen to me?”

“You fell asleep outside, then your body began ‘burning.’ At least that’s the best description I have. I couldn’t access your mind, and you would not wake up. I moved you in here and used my Regenerator to give you foodstuffs and water while I observed what was happening.”

Paul sat up, his head swirling in discomfort and his mouth dry. Cal-com saw him working it around and handed him a bottle of water, with Paul sucking it in so fast he didn’t even realize how dehydrated he was until the third gulp.

“What did happen?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand trying to get some of the soreness out.

“You slept for 28 hours.”

Paul blinked twice. “That’s not possible.”

“None the less, it happened. And during that time, your genetic code altered.”

Paul glared at him, angry or afraid, he couldn’t tell. “Altered by what?”

“It appeared to be an internal process. I could find no source. I did not think forcibly stopping it would be wise. Do you notice a change?”

“I…” Paul said, suddenly feeling something missing. “My metabolism.”

“It is back to normal Human levels, or close to them.”

Paul’s eyes widened. “My Saiyan genetics are gone?” he accused, standing up so fast he actually leapt into the top of the tent and caught there like a net before he bounced back down.

Paul landed on his feet as everything seemed to go into slow motion, with the familiar feel of his speed returning. He goosed it to full, feeling his ambrosia nodules in his body open up and his body began to race with activity. He punched the air multiple times in a blur, then looked at Cal-com.

“Your hair is blonde,” he said, without even having to be asked.

Paul steadied himself, deactivating his Saiyan 1 mode and feeling himself fly right past the normal active ‘bottom’ that was the ever constant high metabolism that kept him from sleeping more than a few minutes regularly, and an hour or two max after an insane workout. But it never should have allowed more than that, let alone 28 straight hours with him out so hard he couldn’t remember anything.

But his body slowed down way past where the bottom was supposed to be, with him feeling so calm and slow, he might as well be a rock.

He sat down into a cross-legged pose so gently it looked natural despite the odd position of his limbs.

“I don’t understand it, but I’ve stabilized somehow. My metabolism isn’t stuck in overdrive. I can still go as high as before, but I can also go low, as if I wasn’t a Saiyan at all. That shouldn’t be possible. What does my coding look like now?”

“It doesn’t read as Human or Saiyan. The Regenerator is classifying it as an ‘unknown’ variant of your race.”

“I am so tired, Cal-com. I feel like sleeping again.”

“Perhaps you should, if this is some type of upgrade, and allow it to fully process.”

“An upgrade from where? All the psionics were mapped and unlocked,” Paul said, suddenly becoming lightheaded. “Oh crap. I about to pass out again.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he slumped in his seated position and started to fall over.

Cal-com caught him and laid him back down on his bedroll mattress, then put some more water and food into him with the Regenerator, but did not allow it to make any alterations as it pinged another warning.

His genetic code was being altered again, source unknown…

-----

This author is moving during the month of May, so the next episode of Star Force will be released on June 20th.

www.aerkijyr.com

Metamorphosis

1

April 19, 154930

Poolion System (Home Two Kingdom)

Turron

“How long this time?” Paul asked as Cal-com helped him sit up as his entire body was even more sore this time after waking up.

“6 hours. Your lapses are getting shorter. Whatever is happening, you might be adapting to it. Can you walk?”

“I can try, but I don’t think I’ll get very far.”

“Then I must leave you to get supplies,” Cal-com said gravely.

Paul nodded, then worked his jaw around as it objected to the movement.

“What do you feel like this time?” the Voku asked his smaller friend as he sat on the floor of their partially sand-covered tent as the wind whipped at the flexible material protecting them from the outside environment.

“Painful, as if I’ve been in combat and getting my ass kicked. My body is getting worse, not better.”

“Something is happening to you. Your genetic code is altering with each blackout. Do you have any new insights…or dreams?”

“Not that I can remember. I’m sleeping deeper than I have since I was very young. My body shouldn’t require this much, even before my Saiyan upgrade.”

“And somehow you are falling further behind?”

“Funny, isn’t it?”

“At least your mood is improving.”

Paul looked down at his arms, which had gotten noticeably smaller with the muscle atrophy…and something else. “I should be freaking out about this, but it feels…necessary. I don’t know why, but I need to see it through and I don’t think it’s going to end soon. I need supplies, and I don’t want moved. Anyone near me right now is a threat, no matter how puny,” he said, looking up into his friend’s blue visor that protected his three tiny eyes.

“I understand. Do you wish me to return by vehicle for increased speed?”

“Not if it means letting someone know where I am. I know we’re not hiding from sensors, but nobody around here has really good ones and…”

“You need as few variables as possible,” Cal-com said, cutting him off. “Eat now, then I will leave.”

Paul picked up a couple of food cubes with his fingers, knowing somehow not to use his telekinesis or any of his other psionics. His jaw objected mightily the first few bites, then began to loosen up as he downed a few gulps of water out of one of their few remaining full bottles as he found he had little saliva to work with.

“I don’t want to go back,” he said abruptly after downing his 14th food cube enroute to the 15th.

“You don’t have to. I am going to get enough to last us a few weeks out here.”

“I don’t mean the settlement. I mean back to the way I was. Something in my head has cleared up, and I’m scared to look backwards. It’s like I was suppressed before and didn’t even know it. I can’t go back. I know that now. I won’t have any defense against it.”

“You operated quite well before. What scares you about it?”

Paul shook his head, despite the soreness in his neck that it elicited. “I don’t know. I’m totally in the dark here, Cal-com. But I’m open. I think I was blind before, with the illusion that I knew what was going on. I feel like a total newb now, and my body is agreeing with that sentiment. I have no control, but I can’t go back. I have to go forward and I don’t know how. I’m fumbling around, but as long as I can hang onto this clearness of mind, I’ll work it out. But I can’t go back. I can’t…”

Cal-com could sense his fear even without having to use his telepathy. His body language was screaming it.

The Voku put a hand on his small shoulder and steadied it, not wanting to use any telepathy that might disrupt whatever was happening to him. “If this is a natural upgrade and not destruction, I am confident you will find your way through it. My job is to keep exterior threats from taking advantage of your momentary weakness. I will be quick, but there will be a period of vulnerability. You need to wear your armor until then.”

Paul jerked, and Cal-com could tell he was emotionally raw beyond measure right now.

“That makes logical sense, but my gut is saying no way in hell.”

“Claustrophobia?”

“Yes.”

“Use the shields then.”

“No…I need the air. I know that makes no sense, but I need to be free and exposed. I feel like I’ll suffocate inside armor or shields.”

“Then relieve yourself now so you do not have to leave the tent later, unless you wish to use your gauntlets to draw the waste material out of you directly?”

“Can you give me a wind block?”

“Done,” Cal-com said, standing up and opening the door as the blowing sand tried to get in, but the Voku’s mass blocked most of it as he went outside…then the turbulent air disappeared over the entrance, but was still hammering the rest of the tent.

Paul crawled painfully to his feet, but found his footing to be more reliable than he expected as he stepped outside amidst a daytime storm that Cal-com was acting as a barrier against, using his own armor to produce a shield wall upwind of the entrance so it wouldn’t knock Paul over as he slowly walked out with tiny, unsure steps to a few meters away where he undid his pants and began to pee into the sand, with the dryness eating up the moisture as soon as it landed.

His bladder was full again, and just releasing it felt beyond good, almost as if it was the first time he’d ever done it…which was ridiculous…but everything seemed new now that his head was ‘unstuck,’ and he didn’t want to lose a moment of his newfound freedom, for his past was lurking like a giant monster about to strike and he was desperately clinging to a sanctuary that might evaporate at any moment.

Paul finished and walked back inside, with Cal-com sealing up the tent but not going in. Instead he fully activated his armor and took off running into the blowing sand, disappearing from view within seconds as Paul sat back down inside and tried to hang onto consciousness as long as he could, though he was already sensing the next blackout coming…

Cal-com ran through the storm at the best speed he could manage, knowing time was not his ally. Paul was vulnerable when blacked out, and it was questionable whether or not he could fight if need be when he wasn’t. He did a perimeter check telepathically and with sensors as he left, finding nothing but sand, sand, and more sand, but the universe was not predictable and every second he was away from his friend he was in danger…but starvation would kill him for sure, and carrying Paul on his back or telekinetically right now was not advisable, though doable.

Yet whatever it was they’d come out here to chase inside Paul had been found, and jeopardizing it could be just as deadly. Cal-com didn’t know what moving him would do or not do, for the better or worse, but if Paul felt he needed to face this out here away from everyone else, then that’s how they’d play it…yet they were going to need a lot more supplies. Fortunately Cal-com was far larger than Paul, so he could carry more, and after all the mundane walking his body was itching for a challenge anyway, so he made a point to fight the wind and sand as if it was a workout, gaining as many seconds as he could all the way back to the cliff wall that separated the Sand Sea from the less dry desert beyond.

Cal-com kicked in his anti-grav when he got near the base and flew up to the summit, dropping back down on the firmer sand and continuing to run, saving his power for when he needed to jump over dunes rather than trying to fly straight to his destination. Both his and Paul’s armor had ample power cells, but they weren’t unlimited. Low level activity would recharge them in a trickle fashion, and Cal-com didn’t want to risk his dropping so low that he’d have trouble later.

Paul could just fly on his own biological energy, which was far more efficient than the tiny anti-grav units woven into the already densely packed armor, but Cal-com could fly if needed. Right now he had no pack to carry, so it was best to run and save the flight energy for the trip back, though it wouldn’t last the whole way.

Cal-com ran for hours, using his own muscle and not using the armor enhancement to save power, eventually coming back to the New Luminance outpost that was sunken into the desert. He forced himself to become a pedestrian again when he arrived, because creating a commotion might delay his return more than walking would, so he made himself be patient and shopped in the most efficient manner possible, ending up with 18 smaller packs full of supplies roped together into a massive bundle so large that when he strapped it on his back bystanders had to move aside or get knocked down given how wide it was.

He ignored the questions and complaints, heading across the chasm and up to the city rim on foot, then he immediately started running, finding the movement very difficult given the weight, awkward shape, and the sinking sand under his feet. Cal-com kicked in his anti-grav and began to fly low to the ground, monitoring the onlookers and watching for pursuit, but he didn’t take an evasive route to hide his destination. A straight line was the quickest way back to Paul, and he didn’t want to waste more time away from the vulnerable Human.

So he flew…and flew…until his power cell was getting dangerously low, then he reluctantly dropped down into the very slick sands and began walking through it. He found he couldn’t run given the weight and conditions, but he was only a few kilometers away from the tent location and already well out into the Sand Sea. Fortunately the storm was now gone and the sky clear…which made it even hotter with the direct sunlight beating down on his armor, but that absorbed into it and gave it a little bit of an extra recharge trickle as he remained cool inside the skintight protection.

Cal-com used a few bursts to get over tricky dunes, but otherwise muscled his way back to the tent, finding it intact as he dumped the bundle of packs down, feeling his back thank him for the relief as he looked through the walls of the tent with his Pefbar and confirmed Paul was still inside…except he was sitting up in a cross-legged position, meaning he wasn’t blacked out at the moment.

Cal-com pried off one of the packs from the bundle and brought it inside, seeing his friend oddly sitting with his eyes closed in a meditative pose.

“Paul?” he asked after a moment of no response.

The Human blinked, apparently unaware of his arrival, then he fully opened his eyes…which did not look right, but apparently Paul wasn’t aware of the change.

“Back already? I thought you left a few minutes ago?”

“More like hours. How many times did you black out?”

“Three, but they felt brief. No more than seconds, though now it seems that was an illusion. What’s wrong?”

“Your eyes have changed.”

Paul frowned. “How?”

“They’re green now, but they also have an extra ring visible,” Cal-com said, producing a clear shield square in front of him coming from his armor, then he made the shield reflective to create a mirror for Paul to look into.

“They’ve never been green before,” Paul noted, inclining his head back and forth as he looked at his reflection. “That ring looks like an ocular enhancement,” he said, glancing to the side and staring at his pack on the floor next to the wall. He squinted, not seeing any difference, then he played around a bit randomly, trying to get something to happen in response to him adjusting his focus in and out…then all of a suddenly everything zoomed in on a piece of his pack and occupied his entire vision.

“What the fuck…” he said, still staring at his pack.

“What is it?” Cal-com asked as Paul remained distracted.

“Somehow I can now zoom my vision.”

“Second lens?” Cal-com guessed, kneeling down next to him and using a bit of his remaining armor power to activate his Regenerator and scan Paul’s new eyes…as well as the rest of him.

“Whatever it is, it’s creeping me out. My situational awareness is horrible like this,” he said, bringing his vision back to normal, then zooming in again.

“These are not Human eyes. They’re…for lack of a better term…super human.”

“I like the sound of that…”

“But the source of the change is still unidentified,” the Voku said.

“I think I have a partial answer on that.”

“Another vision?”

“No. Not that I can remember anyway. Whatever’s going on in my head when I’m blacked out I can’t recall. But I think I know why my body is so sore. It’s not from damage inflicted, but from updates processing. Some of it, at least, I think is from Delayed Training Effect.”

Cal-com knew what that was, though it rarely happened. When the body went through really hard and long workouts, a significant adjustment was made afterwards, usually while sleeping. If there was a delay in the downtime, the body would try and make some adjustments on the fly, but it couldn’t make all of them. If one had a multi-week excursion that was intense throughout, such as in combat, and it produced a significant training effect rather than just damage, the adaptation to it would occur in bits throughout as needed to keep moving, but the rest would essentially be stuck in queue until the body could get into a rest state.

When it finally did, it would often update in stages rather than one long rest if the accumulation was great enough. The process was not usually peaceful, with the adjustments coming in chunks that produced instability, and sometimes pain, in the transition. Whereas normal adaptation…where you had rest breaks often…occurred in smaller ‘jumps’ that were less traumatic. In either case, the body’s genetic code rewrote itself in tiny ways, and some of those ways…if significant enough over time…would be passed onto the offspring in the genetic code merger of conception, mitosis, or whatever other method was used.

“I can’t confirm that, but you’re still changing in waves. Cellular structure is getting tighter again. I think with more food in you you might put on more mass for the same volume.”

“I feel too light.”

“Your weight hasn’t dropped much. I think your body is reorganizing and scavenging from where it can. Do you feel up to binge eating?”

“No,” Paul admitted. “If I eat too fast I start to get queasy, but if I stay awake long enough I think I can slow charge. What do my levels look like?”

“Fat is almost nonexistent, and blood sugar is low. Everything in your stomach is…”

“Is what?”

“How long ago did you eat?”

“As soon as I woke this cycle. My sense of time is obviously off, so I can’t say for sure how long it’s been.”

“Your digestion rate is very high. I’d guess you’d eaten 10 cubes a few minutes ago?”

“I got down 18, but not the big ones. Their taste is too tart, and I have to nibble.”

“Delayed Training Effect from what?” Cal-com asked, getting back to the original subject matter.

Paul’s new eyes narrowed, with the gesture being identical with his annoyed/serious look that he only showed when he’d made a mistake.

“We messed up with the Saiyan genetics, I think. My head fog might be part of that, maybe not all of it, but I’m fairly sure it’s part of the problem.”

“Lack of rest?”

“We thought we didn’t need it, but if some of our adaptation wasn’t processing and has been building up over all these millennia…I might be letting it through, since I can now sleep.”

“Your eyes?”

“I don’t see how that’s connected, but who knows.”

Cal-com held up his arm again, this time producing a solid shield plate rather than the mirror. On it he produced a variety of colors. “Spectrum check.”

Paul stared at the lines, seeing the wavelengths clearly measured, then his eyes went wide with shock.

“I can see UV and a bit of Infrared, but I can also see Gamma. Run a check with other races. See if there’s a partial match.”

“I already did. Unless it’s not included in the Regenerator database, there’s no exact or partial match. Similarities yes, but this appears to be upgraded Human genetics…to the point that it’s no longer registering as Human. Did your Saiyan genetics affect your eyes?”

“Just the color, and we added that separate.”

“Are you close to blacking out?”

“It’s starting to build, but I’m not close yet. Give me some water. I used the rest earlier.”

Cal-com passed him a fresh bottle, and Paul downed all of it, motioning for another that he half drank…then he stretched out his legs and laid back on the ground, staring at the tent top. “Check my water burn rate.”

The Voku grasped his wrist again, with the Regenerator tendrils lightly drilling into his body briefly to get the necessary sensors where they needed to be.

“Elevated. Your metabolism is far higher than Human or Saiyan, in spurts. If it was constant you’d be dead by now.”

“The numbness to the universe. The focus on the mission. The need for something to do. That’s the way we are during workouts. Not when we’re resting.”

“And you couldn’t fully rest,” Cal-com said, seeing the connection. “You were hyped up so much that your senses got numbed without you realizing it.”

“And we advanced so much that none of our skills went backwards, they improved, so we didn’t notice the negative. We’ve been permanently in workout mode since we made the transition…and it’s gotta be worse for the others that went Saiyan 2 and 3. Ginsi went 4, so I have no idea how bad it is for her, but I bet she doesn’t even notice. We got too mission focused, and we forgot to notice our surroundings where they didn’t apply. And when we couldn’t slow down and rest, we had to have another mission or we’d go nuts. We were blocking some of our own abilities, the type that we couldn’t mechanically measure.”

“And you succeeded.”

“Which meant we forgot we’d lost anything. The zoom on my eyes just hammered that into my head.”

“When you’re focused your situational awareness diminishes, and when your situational awareness increases your focus lapses. You have to rotate between them periodically, and you inadvertently prevented yourself from doing so.”

“That’s my guess. Whatever else is happening to me undid the lock, now I’m catching up rapidly…and it hurts because of the speed of change.”

“Can you sleep before you black out?”

“Not gonna try. The more I’m aware the more my head defrags. It’s my body that needs the blackouts.”

“And the more you process the less you have remaining in queue?”

“If I’m right, these bouts will get shorter and shorter until they end. After that I may need to sleep a lot, maybe not. But I think the worst is passed.”

“But your pain is increasing.”

“Cumulative effect. I can handle it, but for the others it will be worse. A lot worse.”

“Yet these other changes may be ramping up.”

“One thing at a time,” Paul said, feeling his head start to go loopy again. “I’m fading out, but I’ve got a foothold now to work from. And once processed…these upgrades aren’t going backwards again. There is…no going back,” he said, with a hint of a smile as his new green eyes closed and Cal-com’s readings indicated that he was on the boundary of unconsciousness…but lingering there for the moment rather than the rapid crashes Paul had had earlier. Perhaps he was doing something to smooth the transition…that wouldn’t surprise Cal-com, but regardless, a few minutes later he was out again, leaving Cal-com as his bodyguard out in the middle of the Sand Sea with nobody around save for the occasional speeder in the far distance getting across the wasteland as fast as possible.

They had their privacy here to figure this out, and a few weeks of supplies to do it. But while Paul was more content, Cal-com still knew the root issue eluded them. What was causing his initial changes? Where was it coming from? And what did this vision connection have to do with it?

Cal-com wondered if they weren’t alone here, but despite his constant checks he could find no trace of anyone or anything.

“Rest, my friend. A partial answer is victory enough for now,” he said, withdrawing the Regenerator tendrils and sitting down next to the prone Human as he began inventorying their supplies and telekinetically bringing the new packs in one at a time through the open door flap that gave just a hint of a breeze in the otherwise tranquil, yet blistering conditions outside.

Fortunately Paul’s body didn’t seem to be bothered by it, nor did Cal-com’s so long as they stayed in the shade. Other than the fact they were losing water faster in this environment…but he’d accounted for that, and most of the weight he’d carried out here had been water…plus a moisture vaporator that he pulled out of one of the packs and set just outside the door to collect some of the moisture coming out of the tent so they could use it again later.

It would give them some additional time out here, and right now Cal-com had no idea how much Paul would need, but he was going to insure he could stay put as long as necessary to go through this metamorphosis and survive it, which wasn’t assured at this point, so Paul needed every advantage…or more truthfully, he needed everyone and everything out of his way while he dealt with this internally. The real story was going on inside him, and Cal-com was going to make sure nothing on the outside interfered with it...

2

April 24, 154930

Poolion System (Home Two Kingdom)

Turron

Paul had spent the next 3 days continuing to black out periodically, but the length of the blackouts decreased to only a few minutes before ending entirely. The past 2 days he’d been sleeping heavily, but at a time of his choosing. He could feel the life draining out of him and the incessant need to sleep, but it was no longer overloading him to the point he’d collapse.

The changes to his body were continuing, but slowing. He still didn’t have any answers, but the Archon was gaining a better sense of himself. His mind was continuing to clear up more with each cycle, and the great darkness of the past was diminishing in his memory, to the point it was almost a fiction that he couldn’t believe he had ever fallen for.

Paul stood outside their tent on the sands, his lengthening hair blowing in the gentle wind as another storm was approaching in the distance, with him punching the air in front of him three times so fast it looked like one blurred attack. He alternated between arm attacks and leg kicks on no enemy or object. He was just shadow boxing, loosening up after so much stagnant time and testing his new body to see what the differences were…but even these limited movements were draining his energy fast, and he knew he’d need another nap in a few minutes else he’d risk pushing himself to the point of blacking out again, and that was something he didn’t feel like playing with now that he’d gotten limited control of it.

That said, every phantom attack he threw made him feel better. His movements were smooth and clumsy at the same time, for his natural speed had increased. Not up to Saiyan level, but about halfway there. Previously he’d transformed into the hyper mode just to make sure it was still there…and it was…but he couldn’t stay in it more than a few seconds before getting so tired he could barely make it back to the tent. Since then he’d chosen not to touch it again, and was instead exploring his normal ‘base’ form, and somehow part of his Saiyan speed had been incorporated into it.

Yet a large part of the Saiyan speed was the mental processing, and he wasn’t having trouble keeping up with his own body. In fact the reverse was true, as if his mind had been sped up even more than his muscle cells, making his increased speed seem easily trackable. Each punch he threw he could see with his eyes clearly, as well as feel the position of his arm…

Paul stopped, then began posing in various positions with the transitions between them shortening. It looked like he was dancing at first, but then the air around him began to churn as he twisted and turned too fast for it to remain stable. His body began to object with a wave of fatigue, but Paul kept at it, trying to accomplish the same speed with less force, as well as seeing what his sensitivity was, bringing his arms and legs closer and closer together, almost touching as they brushed past one another at dizzying speed.

“Ka!” a voice shouted, shocking Paul into a twirl away from the sound as he took an extra step of distance as he spun down and focused on the source…seeing a Zen’zat in full armor standing before him. “Jo negga af keev.”

Before Paul could say anything the image fizzled out, disappearing as if a mirage, leaving the Archon standing there with a weird tingle running down his spine…along with a wave of fatigue that would have grounded him if his combat instincts weren’t blaring louder.

He stood there in silence for what felt like forever, checking his senses and blinking his eyes trying to figure out if that was real or a hallucination. His Pefbar had never connected, but his senses were so well refined that a hallucination would have been vague and patchwork, given the fact that it wasn’t real and had to be produced by the imagination. This Zen’zat had been in crystal clarity, so unless his imagination had also undergone an upgrade…which it might have…then it wasn’t a hallucination.

“Paul, is something wrong?” Cal-com asked as he ran across the sand from the other side of the tent where he had been doing his own calisthenics, but the sight of Paul suddenly going as still as a statue had caught his eye.

“It happened again,” Paul said, blinking his eyes to keep the sleep away. “I saw a Zen’zat, briefly.”

Cal-com did a quick check of the area with his senses and sensors. “There is no one here but you and I.”

“I’m not so sure,” Paul said, suddenly taking a knee but refusing to go down completely. “Now I’m drained again. Not just from the training.”

“Did this Zen’zat say anything?” Cal-com said as he lifted Paul up and began dragging him back to the tent in an upright position with his friend as limp as a rag doll.

“It spoke in V’kit’no’sat…and warned…me to stop…pushing.”

“Your body is depleted of resources again,” the Voku said, hacking into him with his armored shoulder plates melting into tendrils that connected to Paul’s body. “The original vision parameters are a close match. You need foodstuffs before you sleep again.”

“I’ll try,” Paul said as Cal-com laid him down inside the tent with his back resting on a stack of packs in what had passed as a lounge chair the past few days, but with the Human’s butt still sitting on the tent floor.

“Good,” Cal-com said as Paul chewed up one of the cubes, despite seeing his eyes roll multiple times as he fought to stay awake. “Keep eating. I will review your memories and discuss this when you wake. Get as much down as you can,” he said, handing him some water as well.

Paul sipped at it, then crunched another food cube before drifting off seeing the side of the Voku’s hand on his head. Only a moment seemed to pass, then then fatigue faded partly, enough for him to eat some more at least.

But the tray of foodstuffs was no longer sitting next to his right leg…nor was the bottle of water. Cal-com wasn’t here either, and Paul wondered if this wasn’t another vision taking place.

He looked around, then pulsed his telepathy and found Cal-com’s mind nearby. A moment later the larger biped came back into the tent with an apologetic look on his otherwise stoic face.

“I’m sorry. I did not expect you to wake yet. Your mind was deep in sleep a moment ago. What woke you?”

“How long was I out?”

“8 hours.”

Paul frowned. “I blinked a few times. I don’t remember sleeping at all.”

“Well you did, but very few upgrades this time. I think the drain came from somewhere else, but I can’t physically locate a source. The choice of a Zen’zat is curious. Why not impersonate me again?”

“You think it is someone?”

“Either someone else, or a part of you manifesting in this way. You were over pushing…as typical for Archons. Especially trailblazers.”

“Then it wasn’t a part of me,” Paul said, sitting up and feeling a different type of sore this time. “Because I was going easy compared to what I wanted to do. You said some changes were made?”

“Nothing noticeable, but some subtle recoding was done. Far less than your current trend.”

“This all began with me taking a break, so maybe it is linked to resting rather than training.”

“I’m worried too,” Cal-com admitted. “Perhaps you should let it play out before you attempt to harness whatever changes have been made.”

“I’m sorer than before. The same way I was the first vision. It’s like a power drain.”

“A mental hallucination would not affect the body.”

“True. I think we’re dealing with something new.”

“That is obvious.”

“No, I mean something beyond our current senses, and beyond Essence, because I can’t detect anything.”

“Nor can I. Do you have any new insights?”

Paul sighed, searching his mind and ‘looking’ with his newfound clarity to see what had been uncovered that was previously foggy.

“More of the same. My purpose is right here, though I can’t articulate it. I’m on the path. I can feel that. I just can’t identify it. But these changes are part of it.”

“A necessary part or an optional upgrade?”

“It feels like I was lost, but this transformation is a choke point on the path and I was drawn back to it because of it. I have to figure it out before I lose the scent of it again, but for the moment I’m where I need to be.”

“No combat. No lives to be saved. No universe to carry on your shoulders,” Cal-com ticked off from previous conversations. “What about now fits your path?”

Paul looked at the ground oddly, as if his mind suddenly took a journey to somewhere unseen. “The path is within.”

“Your personal advancement?”

“No…not totally. It’s…” he said, looking up at Cal-com suddenly. “I have a piece of it.”

“Explain, if you can.”

“The circle of life,” Paul said, standing up and cringing with each muscle movement. “Birth, youth, adulthood, reproduction, then downward cycle into death as the next generation rises to replace you. It was called the circle of life in a movie…not an important one, but one from long ago. It was stated that it was meant to be that way. Continuous cycling. My path is to break free of it. Break the circle.”

“You’ve obtained self-sufficiency. Is that not breaking the cycle?”

Paul huffed. “You’re right. I said that wrong. I broke free of it long ago, but the point is the answers…the path…cannot exist on the circle. It’s the training wheels that keep everything functioning on a base level. To find the path you have to rise above it. Break free of it. Then you have a path that doesn’t boomerang back to the beginning and start all over again.”

“The first vision spoke of this, did it not?”

“Yeah…” Paul said, nodding and immediately regretting it as he rubbed his jaw. “How does my face hurt? This makes no sense.”

“Does anything not hurt?”

“It is kind of body-wide, but spiking in odd places with movement. Don’t get me off topic. I need to nail this before it leaves me.”

“Continue.”

“Growth…must occur away from the newbs. The more you grow the further distant you get. Circling back around to train them pulls you away from the path, unless there is a cross connection that leads you to something new. New. The path will always be new, Cal-com. I sensed this before but I didn’t understand. New things aren’t a luxury. They’re a sign that you’re on your path. If everything is familiar then you’ve stopped moving or circled back. We can use automated training like bread crumbs for others following similar paths, that way we can help them without hindering ourselves.”

“That has already been implemented in Star Force,” Cal-com pointed out.

Paul waved him off with a hand. “I know, I know. I just didn’t see the reasons for it. We’ve been doing stuff accidentally right for other reasons. I can see it better now.”

“And your path?”

“Is not in naval combat on a regular basis,” he said with finality as that bit of his search ended. “From time to time, when there is a need. But sitting in a ship is not moving me along the path. I must pursue it where it goes, which means I have to be untethered,” he said, huffing a bit of a laugh that Cal-com could see was also painful. “A Jedi must have no attachments.”

“Something else accidentally right?”

“It seems so.”

“Are you going back outside?”

Paul looked down at his feet and where he was standing. “No. You’re right. I do need to let this play out, then train to master it latter. So how do I rest without going completely nuts?”

“Sleep as much as you can. The balance you need to explore.”

“I just woke up, so let’s go exploring.”

“The storm is nearly here.”

Paul then noticed the tent quivering slightly, something he should have picked up on as soon as he woke if he hadn’t been distracted. He walked past Cal-com to the door and poked his head out, seeing squalls of sand in the distance.

“That looks bigger.”

“It is. I was in the process of digging us some terrain to hide behind when you woke.”

Paul looked around and saw the trenches to his left that were feeding a large mound behind their tent on the opposite side of the approaching storm. “What’s the plan?”

“A ring around the perimeter to force the air up and over us, and a trench beyond to catch the blowing sands so they don’t pile on top and bury us. If our tent could handle that I would do so myself, but it cannot handle the weight no matter how I augment it. We’ve been getting an automated recall warning from the nearest beacon.”

“They want everyone to come in?”

“The storm predictions are beyond what the equipment they sell can handle.”

Paul smirked. “Challenge accepted.”

“How can we augment the tent to survive this? Or should we deconstruct it and ride it out in our armor?”

“Neither,” he said, pulling the door open enough for him to step out into the wind. He walked a few steps to clear the way for Cal-com to follow, then he knelt down and placed his bare palm against the thin, soft sand beneath him.

Paul held still, but the sand did not, blowing every which way until the bits around his fingers began to pull in as if being sucked into a black hole. They almost disappeared beneath his hand, but his palm rose ever so slightly as the material built up beneath, eventually forming into a brick a few inches wide and as along as Paul’s forearm. When he was finished he grabbed it with his other hand and tossed it up to Cal-com, who caught the remarkably heavy construct in both hands as the weight surprised him into a short-lived fumble.

“What did you do?”

“Alchemy combined with Essence. The composition of the sand makes it easy. I shouldn’t know that without testing, but I can feel it. The molecules are almost beckoning to be remade.”

Cal-com used his armor to analyze the brick, with his total shock evident on his face when the results came in.

“This is a corovon alloy. How can you do that with no Corovon in the sand?”

“The building blocks are there for it. I can’t explain how, but I can feel them.”

“That’s subatomic, Paul. And something even our Mastertechs haven’t figured out how to do. Are you fatigued?”

“No. I didn’t have to deposit energy, just set up a natural chain reaction. Barely a touch of Essence was required, and my psionic use was moderate. I just gave it the necessary push and it realigned because it wanted to. It’s pathetically simple, but if I had to draw it out I’m not sure I could. The sense is fleeting, and if I try to think of it academically I’m afraid I’ll lose it.”

“Can you do more?”

“Many more, and it will allow my body to rest. Two problems solved with one task.”

“Can you do enough in time?” Cal-com asked, glancing at the approaching dust swirls that were eating up the horizon.

“One way to find out. I’ll forge, you engineer. Plan wisely. I can’t make this go any faster,” he said, starting to create another dirty white-colored brick slightly lighter in shade than the sand itself.

“Challenge accepted,” Cal-com echoed as he began reviewing possible structural designs to find one strong enough but with the least building material needed.

3

April 24, 154930

Solar System (Home One Kingdom)

Earth

Wilson stood in one of the many control centers for the training courses in Atlantis, linked into the biomonitors that all the trailblazers were wearing. When they weren’t going at it in team matches, he had them doing work on obstacles courses, mostly solo runs. The difference now was their Essence use. He had them split into groups, with one using Essence as normal. Another only using their own Essence and forgoing the Uriti-charged Magicite rings, with a third using no rings and pulling only from what was in their body currently.

The fourth and final group were forbidden from using Essence at all, and they hadn’t been thrilled about it. Every time a person used Essence it increased their total personal reservoir a tiny bit, and the trailblazers had gotten in the habit of using it all the time to take advantage of this aspect, but Wilson wanted to see what happened when they avoided it. He’d done similar experiments with lower ranking Archons, but none of them had the size of Essence wells as the trailblazers did, so he was hoping he’d get some useful results. All the other experiments seemed to reflect the same basic truth.

Essence use had no negative effects on the body or training unless you went so low to risk death.

Wilson crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Greg-073 jumping through a series of hoops spaced 16 meters apart and elevated 3 meters in the air. This course was a ‘no fly’ course, and the trailblazers didn’t have a problem restricting themselves from using certain psionics on the obstacle courses. It was in combat when they had an opponent that adjusted to them that they found it hard to hold back.

Greg leapt easily from floor to hoop to floor over and over again, making his way to a slide that carried him up via a reversed gravity column, then he was swinging from monkey bars across a disqualification chasm that didn’t prove any real threat to him. This run was about speed, for the course was familiar, and unless he really screwed up there was no chance of not making it to the finish.

They’d gone over this course hundreds of times each in the past, with dozens more on this group arrival to Atlantis, and as always they were trying to improve their times. That meant their marks were already pretty high to begin with, but they were chipping away here and there without any significant improvement. Without being able to use Essence or their Saiyan modes to boost their speed, all they had was their psionics, muscle, and rhythm to work with. And once you’d hammered that out, squeezing every advantage out of the course that you could, what did that leave?

No room for accidental advancement. If they were going to adapt and grow to it, it would show. If they did not, they would plateau at or near their current level. Wilson needed a wall like this to hammer them on in order to analyze the more subtle aspects of their fitness, and the results he was getting so far were not useful.

Not if his gut feeling that Essence use held a disadvantage was true.

He was watching more than just Greg at the moment, with monitors on Kerrie-057, Ace-095, and Logan-036 off to the side, but they were all behind pace. Greg was flickering with a new record, so he’d brought him and his stats up center screen to see if there was anything different going on with him…especially since he was in the ‘no essence use’ group.

Many people mistook the trailblazers for slightly different looking clones of one another, but each of them had their own peculiarities and strengths, and Wilson had split the teams up as evenly as he could, with Kara and Davis thrown in as extras. Both broke the mold in different directions, but at this point he needed any and all data he could get, and so far he was totally dry in that regard. At least as far as any data suggesting his gut feeling was accurate.

Greg had no visual timer, which was meant to focus them on the feel of the run rather than let them calibrate to the clock. Normally that’s not how you worked a timed course, because you needed to see where you were gaining and losing in order to adapt, but Wilson wanted them blind on this, hoping that they’d stumble on something he’d missed. They were good at that, and throwing them at this was his last hope at the moment. He didn’t know where else to look, but he was sure there was something wrong with Essence use. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, his instincts told him to stay on this.

A barely audible ping sounded, but in the silence of the control room it was loud. Wilson’s eyes went to Greg’s biomonitor data, seeing the source of the notification. He raised an eyebrow, then focused on Greg’s motions as he moved with liquid grace through a series of tiny pillars that he had to step on very carefully to avoid falling…all below a short ceiling that kept him from jumping across them.

His coordination was impressive, but the ping was the result of something Wilson had discovered long before Essence. It was a state of concentration where one stopped thinking about past or future and became one with the moment. All movements were intuitive, almost as if you were not in control of yourself and moving so fast you didn’t know how you were doing what you were doing, but you just ran with it.

Some called it ‘in the zone,’ others had given it the moniker ‘liquid gold,’ but there was one type of phenomenon within the category that he had labeled ‘Ultra Instinct,’ and Greg had just slipped into it.

And as a result, his speed had increased ever so slightly…not due to his muscles pushing harder, but to his coordination and course chosen being smoothed out and more accurate, with less wasted movement. Wilson had felt this a number of times in his life, but could never do so on command. It just manifested at odd times, and he knew that when it did you just went with it. Thinking would undo it, for it was experience without planning, and often happened in new situations.

Doing so in familiar ones was very rare, but it did happen. And this was usually when records were broken that could never be gotten back to later…at least not without a lot of training advancement to close the gap.

Greg finished out the course within the next few minutes, all the while staying in ‘Ultra Instinct’ through the finish line. Then he took a few extra breathes and tilted his chin up slightly to address the monitoring equipment he knew was on.

“Sorry, Wilson. Took that one a little easier. Didn’t feel right pressing too hard, so I tried to smooth things out a bit. I’ll hit the next one harder.”

Wilson triggered the mic with a thought. “You just shaved 1.46 seconds off your record.”

Greg frowned. “No. There’s no way.”

“You did. And your biomonitor said you slipped into Ultra Instinct. How long has it been since you’ve done that?”

“Longer than I can remember,” Greg said, putting his hands on his hips as he paced around the finish area thinking. “Are you sure? I didn’t feel any different.”

“You can review the data later. Go through again, immediately. I need a comparison.”

“How hard?”

“Same effort. I want to see how much decline you get off fatigue.”

“Will do,” Greg said, hopping over a low barrier to the nearby start line, then he slapped the start button and took off as soon as it depressed.

“Could it be…” Wilson whispered to himself as several ideas hit him simultaneously as Greg again slipped into Ultra Instinct a few moments after he got into the obstacle course. Doing it twice in a row was unheard of, and while he didn’t stay in it constantly, he flickered in and out over the next few minutes.

Wilson suddenly smacked his hand against his forehead and groaned. “How could I be so stupid?” he said, knowing he’d have to get a lot more data to be sure, but he now had a working theory. After all this time, nobody had really asked what Essence was supposed to do. It was always what it could be used for. Connecting the Core to the Body was what was assumed, but Wilson never really explored that line of thought, probably because it couldn’t be seen or tested in any way other than going too far to the point of death, and Star Force would never do that kind of sick research.

“Fatigue from Essence use,” he mumbled to himself. “Why did I never see it? It’s not a control exertion, it’s coordination…or, actually, that is a control exertion, just of a different sort. And you guys are such beasts that you haven’t shown the diminishment. No, not just that. Your Essence reserve is never the same twice. That’s why I couldn’t find it. No replicability.”

Wilson was feeling very good…and very stupid…right now, but he was going to need data before he went to Davis and the trailblazers. He wouldn’t tell him his theory. It might bias their actions and throw off the analysis, because if he was right, it was going to be a very minimal difference that would require multiple attempts under the same conditions. Many attempts. Hopefully the numbers would bear him out, but he now had a lead to go on.

And once again, he owed the trailblazers for stumbling onto something without even trying. Their instincts were better than his own, but they needed him to figure it out and codify a training procedure to probe it. They were better in the field, he was better in analysis, but both were best when overlapping their specialties, and having them all here was now beginning to pay off, as rare as it was.

All except Paul. Wilson wondered what he was up to, for he hadn’t gotten any updates from him. Maybe he was stumped, or maybe he was on the track of the same thing he was…

Paul tossed another brick to Cal-com, with him placing it on the last ring on the top of the dome he’d been building as the wind was already throwing so much sand between them that Paul had a hard time seeing him.

“That’s the last one. Build the cap,” Cal-com yelled over the storm rather than using telepathy as he stood next to the slightly shorter shelter…or rather the taller one, but he was standing on a dune that was already a third of the way up the windward side of the curved brick wall.

Paul gathered more material this time, and rather than creating the slightly curved rectangular bricks, he started pulling sand together and reorganizing it on a molecular and sometimes atomic level to create a mostly flat plug that was a little less than a meter wide and narrower on the bottom than the top rim. It ended up being about 3 inches thick, and when he tossed it to Cal-com the Voku stepped up and placed it on the last hole on top of the dome, with him having to brush some sand off the edge to make it slide in evenly.

When it did, the interior that held the tent was now protected from the wind, with the arch-like construction reinforcing itself against its own weight, but Paul wasn’t going to leave it at that. As Cal-com came down from the dune and around to the short entrance tunnel on the leeward side, Paul placed a hand on the exterior sidewall and swiped away some of the clinging sand. It appeared as if wet, but there was no moisture here, rather static cling to the odd alloy he’d created.

He got a section clear of the dry ‘snow’ and pressed his palm against it, then used his alchemy psionic, Dogorat’nah, to weld the bricks together…at least partially…making the dome one solid structure, then he followed his friend inside, crawling over an angular dune that was quickly building in front of their exit tunnel.

They’d taken the time to build it out two meters from the tent, which was sitting just inside the dome and occupying almost all the interior space. The armor coating they’d made would keep the wind off it, but they hadn’t built any type of door on the entrance. Paul stood up inside and walked through the tent door behind Cal-com, then sealed it as the bit of wind getting through the tunnel vibrated it in and out while the rest of their purchased structure remained stable.

“You handled that faster than I thought possible,” Cal-com congratulated, “but the storm was the faster.”

“Still, it beats having to take a nap in armor until it passes,” Paul said, laying down on his lounging pile of packs and taking a very long breath.

“How tired are you?”

“Little and much,” Paul said with a smirk. “I don’t know. I’m all over the place.”

“Better or worse?”

“I feel better in the storm, though that may be mental.”

“You prefer a challenge,” Cal-com said, sitting down on the other side of the small tent, with his legs stretching out next to Paul’s right side.

“Stagnation really is the enemy. Rest is useful, but when you’re done with it, not having anything to do takes you off the path, because the path is forever in motion. I can see that now in a way I couldn’t before.”

“And the storm?”

“Even though we’re sitting here we have to deal with it. Mentally it’s a fight even if physically it isn’t. The environment is the challenge.”

“Then peace is not the path?”

“Not for me. But peace gives us the opportunity to craft our own training. Without it we are forever at the mercy of the storm, and can only adapt as it allows us. We have to create peace to forge our own path, but we cannot linger in it. Peace is not the objective, it is a prerequisite to higher level abilities.”

“Abilities that can only be truly mastered in the storm?”

“There is a duality there that is problematic.”

“If the storm goes away, where does that leave you?”

“Exactly. Though it looks like it’s a forever storm.”

“Is ending it the objective, or surviving it?”

“I don’t know, but I think I’ve been suspecting the former, and that’s caused me to lock up. As if winning takes away all victories. But letting everything go to shit just so I can put it back together is a betrayal in a different manner. I couldn’t see another option before, and while I can’t name it now, I can sense it. Fortunately life isn’t a game where we have to know the objective to play it. We just take it one level at a time trying to figure it out as we go along.”

“But ultimately you need to figure it out?”

“I don’t see how we can’t if we keep moving forward.”

“Then your objective isn’t truly to understand the nature of the universe. That is a side effect. Your objective is to continue moving forward.”

“And we can’t do that standing still.”

“So how do you keep moving forward?”

Paul put his hands behind his head. “Right now I’ve got plenty to chew on. But later…it’s not going backwards. Not to the fleet. Not to the Empire. Building it is a challenge already completed. Upgrading it may be another one, but maintaining it is not. We’ve got plenty of others for that anyway. You included. Is that where your path travels?”

“For now. Nothing ever stays the same, and what you built could be lost if not adjusted over time. There is significant importance and challenge in that for someone like me, but it would be repetitive for you. You are a storm, never staying in the same place. Always moving. Always in action. If you stop, you cease to exist. You are transition incarnate.”

“I can’t argue with that. And I kinda like it,” Paul said, closing his eyes and beginning to drift off to sleep as he listened to the rain-like sound of the sand hitting the inside wall of the tunnel and bouncing onto the tent door in repetitive spurts that continued to get louder and more intense. But the more intense it got the more Paul relaxed, and Cal-com noticed as he continued to monitor his friend’s condition with his Regenerator.

“You truly are a creature of action,” he whispered after Paul was out hard.

The temperature was dropping fast, so Cal-com turned up the rooftop heater a bit more while laying a blanket over Paul, careful to not wake him, but the Archon didn’t even notice. Whatever changes were taking place inside him were occupying his attention, and Cal-com was concerned with how vulnerable Paul was. As strong and wise as he was, in this state the weakest of enemies could walk up on him and kill him with a single shot to the head.

That wasn’t going to happen with Cal-com here, though he had no idea who or what this vision was. And if it was an enemy, how would he defend his friend against it?

4

Paul woke again before the storm had passed, sitting up and rubbing his forehead as he tried to wash the sleepiness out of his senses. Ever since his transformation into a Saiyan, sleepiness was something he’d had very little experience with, but it was slamming him now, and in a way that was refreshing…despite the fact he felt like going back to sleep immediately after waking.

“Any new dreams or revelations?” Cal-com asked as the tent door continued to vibrate in the wind coming through the short tunnel.

“Just wondering why I wake up more tired than before I went to sleep,” he said, sitting up and scooting back against the pile of packs so he had something to lean on as he tried to relax the sleepiness out of his head.

“Why not try and sleep more?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was getting too shallow.”

“So now as you get more active the sensation deepens. It suggests your rest state isn’t very efficient. Perhaps a side effect of continued effort.”

Paul frowned. “So my body has to relearn how to fully rest?”

“Possibly. Or it may be additional changes,” Cal-com suggested, crawling over on his knees until he got within range to attach his armor’s probe to his friend’s arm so he could scan his genetic code.

“Odd. I’m not seeing any change this time.”

“None?”

“Not genetically. I expected a gradual decline, not a sudden stop.”

“Stupid,” Paul cursed at himself. “This didn’t all start because I took a break and started to relax. I also stopped using Essence…until now.”

“You think it interferes in the adaptation process somehow?”

“Of course it does. I should have seen this earlier. Essence must be the root of all adaptation, and the lesser it connects to the body the less it can have that effect. Draining Essence partially separates the body from it, disrupting or postponing the adaptation.”

“No,” Cal-com said firmly. “You are grasping the truth but it is slipping through your fingers.”

Paul looked at him oddly, sensing his voice patterns alter a bit. He looked around the tent, stretching his senses to see if he could detect any anomalies, but before he could find them Cal-com alleviated the need for such a search.

“I am speaking to you, and my ability to do so is limited. Your ability to adapt is not rooted in Essence, but something else you have not discovered. You have stumbled upon it, and that contact has precipitated the changes in you. They are multiple. You have a lot of unpacking to do from numerous sources.”

“Who are you?”

“Paul?” Cal-com said, looking at him oddly. “Are you alright?”

“What did I just say?”

“You asked who I am.”

“Before that?”

“You were silent for a long moment.”

“3rd vision.”

Cal-com’s chin raised. “What was it this time?”

“You talking again, but more pointedly. And I can feel the fatigue again. I am being drained somehow.”

“What did my twin have to say?”

“That adaptation is not rooted in Essence, but something else. Something that I’ve stumbled upon without realizing it.”

“Then there is someone else here.”

“That or my imagination has upgraded considerably.”

“Where?”

Paul shook his head. “I don’t know. Nothing conventional. Scan me for implants, no matter how small.”

Cal-com connected a nanite tendril coming out of his shoulder plate to Paul’s arm. “If there were I would not have missed them previously. Have you developed a new ability not yet logged?”

“I can’t feel anything.”

“The Regenerator can detect no anomalies within you, other than the previous alterations. Nothing akin to a transmitter or foreign coding, yet it still can’t identify the source of the genetic alterations. We may be looking at a natural effect or different form of technology used by the intruder.”

“He also said there were multiple things happening to me at once.”

“If Essence is interfering, then not using it again is the key to continue unlocking the transformation, is it not?”

“A better idea I do not have. I won’t use it again. Hopefully I didn’t permanently lose what was left.”

“An ally?”

“Starting to feel that way,” Paul said, standing up despite a wobbliness from the drain. He didn’t feel more sleepy, but less alive. As if his Essence had been depleted from his body in large amounts, but it hadn’t altered. This was…something else.

“My fatigue,” Paul said, looking down at the sitting Voku’s head. “This part of it may be sourced elsewhere.”

“The same source as adaptation?”

Paul glanced up at the ceiling. “This has to do with the Life Springs, doesn’t it?”

“Very good,” a waspy, almost electronic voice said as Cal-com disappeared. Paul turned to his left to see the Zen’zat, but the voice didn’t match.

“Kosh?” he guessed.

“Your memory of that image is vague, so I must use something more recent to make it appear real,” the Zen’zat said, looking at him through an opaque black faceplate with hints of green worked into the nanite armor here and there. “The longer we speak, the more a toll it takes on your body.”

“What did I do to start this?”

“You cracked the barrier twice. The first time I did nothing, then you lost it when your duty to conquer the delinquent planet overrode your intuition. You cracked it a second time once arriving here, and when you did I acted. I reached across and created a larger fracture, one that wouldn’t so easily seal. I could not risk you losing it again.”

“Losing what?”

“Your first step into a much larger world. You have no idea how important you are, but if I explain further I will do damage to your body. I cannot speak to you again for some time until you heal wounds you do not know exist. Let the changes in you continue. Rest, reflect, explore. Do not train for advancement. The pressure blinds you,” the Zen’zat said before disappearing with Cal-com reappearing, though now standing and looking down on Paul with a concerned look on his face as he spoke, but Paul couldn’t hear the words as one more sentence was spoken by his new contact.

“And so it begins…”

That phrase, and the meaning imbedded in it, sent a chill down Paul’s spine a moment before he collapsed to the ground…except Cal-com caught him before he hit, though he was now limp as a rag doll.

“I think I need to sleep now,” Paul said half sarcastically. “Fill you in…later…”

The Human dropped asleep even as the Voku held him a meter off the ground, scanning him with the Regenerator again and not finding a cause, though the side effects were quite visible. His body was reacting as if it had just run 20 miles, and badly needed refueled.

Paul couldn’t eat when asleep, so Cal-com set him down and used the Regenerator to disintegrate and relocate water and food cubes to where it was needed in his body as he waited for his friend to wake, knowing there was no use in forcing a conversation. Rest was what he needed most, and was least inclined to indulge in given his habits. The best thing Cal-com could do for him now was be patient and watch over him…though it was clear that this entity he was in communication with had a means to hurt him, and it was one that Cal-com could not defend against.

That did not sit well with him, and he spent the next 18 hours trying to search for any knowledge that could give him insight into the nature of the enemy, but he couldn’t find the smallest anomaly to work with prior to Paul suddenly blinking his eyes and sitting up as if he’d heard an alarm.

“How long?”

“18 hours. How are you feeling?”

“I can feel it now. The burning illuminates its presence.”

“What presence?”

“It’s similar to the Essence realm, but different. I can barely feel it, but it’s everywhere in my body…yet nowhere. The doppelganger…who is now speaking in Kosh’s voice…said I broke through the barrier on Ha’shavi, then lost it. He said I broke through a second time here, and he acted to prevent me from losing it a second time. He also said that due to the length of our previous conversation that I’d be on my own for a while. Apparently it does damage to me if contact lasts too long.”

“Contact with him or this other realm?”

“Not sure. He recommended rest and introspection. Not training.”

“Not something an Archon is receptive to,” Cal-com pointed out.

“Which is probably why I didn’t go through this earlier,” he said, getting to his feet and walking outside, having to push his way through a dune that nearly covered the entrance to the tunnel.

When he got outside he looked back, seeing the entire shelter was now buried under sand…while the ground a few meters off was now exposed rock. Everywhere he looked he saw repetitions of this, with the terrain undulating in all directions under the night sky with a small bulge of light on the horizon.

“Dawn or dusk?” he asked.

“Dawn,” Cal-com said as he followed him out, wondering why Paul wasn’t recognizing the cardinal directions.

“Fitting. I just got accelerated into overdrive on my path. I don’t know where it’s going, but from here on out I think it’s going to move rapidly…yet I have to stay low key and observe more than act. I don’t feel like going back into space, but I’m tired of desert. I need to get lost somewhere with more stuff to explore and lose myself in. This is too wide open.”

“There are other remote regions on this planet…or do you want to travel to another?”

“I’ll stay here for now, but bring our ship in. I’m tired of using the local food and gear.”

“We’re getting low on it anyway,” Cal-com said. “Do you want me to go get the ship?”

“We’ll both go,” Paul said, referencing their hidden starship that was programmed not to respond to comms. They’d have to make physical contact to unlock it and the cloaking device…or to look at the messages it was collecting from the comm grid. They’d done that to get further disconnected from the empire, though now it was a bit inconvenient. “Leave the tent and excess gear. But rig up some pole that will stay above the sand to let travelers know this is here if they need it.”

“Are you strong enough to walk?”

“Advice or no, I need to do some running. Stagnation is still my enemy, and if I don’t have something to rest from I won’t be able to relax. We’ll take some water and foodstuffs in a light pack each and leave everything else here. We’ll go straight back and not stop until we get there.”

“The sand will sap the strength from your short legs.”

“I’ll handle it,” Paul scoffed at him.

“Will your friend be coming as well?”

“I don’t know where or what he is, but he’s been on two different worlds. So maybe he’s hitching a ride with us.”

“We don’t know how he travels, so running might leave him behind.”

“I doubt it, though I don’t have a logical argument as to why.”

“Does it not concern you the damage that he is able to inflict on you?”

“It does, but I can’t control that and I’m not dead yet. The appeal of the breakthrough and everything else that is going on with me is enough to distract from the danger. Besides, the sooner I figure this out the sooner I can develop a defense. So there’s no point in lingering.”

“We’ve been blindsided.”

“By something that was probably there all along and we just didn’t realize it. Better a scared knowledge than ignorant confidence.”

“We have no choice but to be reckless then?”

“Afraid not. Fun, isn’t it?”

“It is not,” Cal-com said, moving off to create a makeshift pole to mark the site as Paul stayed put looking at the horizon as the local sun began to creep toward breaching the horizon, preceded by a glow that expanded outward eating into the visible starfield above.

Paul sighed. “It’s gonna be a hot day for a run.”

Wilson slapped his palm down on top of Davis’s desk, half waking up the drowsing Director as he was looking over some stats in between sparring sessions with the trailblazers…which were keeping him half exhausted at all times.

“Got it!” he declared.

Davis saw a datapad left behind where his hand retreated from. “Got what?”

“Essence use dulls our connection to the body.”

Davis frowned. “How?”

“I can’t be too specific, but it’s necessary to connect our Core to our body. If we diminish the amount, we diminish the effect. If we take on someone else’s Essence, it’s the wrong ‘frequency’ and doesn’t match until we convert it. Either way, there is an inefficiency until we get back to 100% full.”

“But 100% has changed over time.”

“Yes it has. In response to us being low, we adapt to create more in order to compensate. That’s why we didn’t notice a problem. But when we stop drawing it down, we see an increase in ability.”

The Director raised an eyebrow as he stood up and brought the datapad with him, staring at it as he began to pace around his office as a rainstorm dumped gallon after gallon of water onto the panoramic windows that would eventually see it run down and rejoin the Pacific Ocean below.

“I’m not seeing any ability increase,” he said as he scanned the obstacle course runs and the summary notes added to the stats. “This is coordination related?”

“Weapon familiarity. Gloves versus no gloves,” Wilson replied short hand. “Precision increase leads to Ultra Instinct with remarkable frequency.”

“But they only got to this point by using Essence all these years?”

“True. But it was slowing them down as they did so. And it’s speculation now, but I think it hindered their ability to adapt to training.”

“Precision,” Davis echoed, knowing that Training Effect required repetition, and if your movements were different each time you wouldn’t get as much effect. So the more precise your training was, the bigger bang you would get out of it when you were doing repetitions to induce an upgrade.

“It may not seem like much, but I’ve always suspected there was something there. You can choose to keep increasing your Essence well, or to use your physical abilities at full power. You cannot do both simultaneously.”

“And we didn’t get Essence until we got Saiyans,” Davis said, cringing. “That covered the speed slowdown with the speed increase.”

“Good catch,” Wilson admitted. “I hadn’t put that together yet, but you’re right. They were growing more than they were being held back, so we didn’t see it. And if it dulls their precision of the body, it may also be dulling their minds as well.”

“Hence the pouting.”

“I wouldn’t call it that. Their vision has been obscured and they can’t see their way beyond doing the same thing over and over again. I can see a universe of possibilities ahead of me. They can’t. That’s not pouting.”

“It’s pithy and angers them, so I’m saying ‘pouting’ until they figure it out. A little payback for the beatdowns they’re giving me,” Davis said as he continued to look over the limited data, then he tossed the datapad back onto his desk. “What do you recommend?”

“We treat it as weighted training clothing. Now that we know it exists, we can work around it when needed and embrace it otherwise. Essence is too useful to abandon, but for certain periods of training it should be avoided. I’ll get basic parameters established shortly, but it comes down to more specialization in their skillsets. We can’t have one Archon being a master of all anymore.”

“We figured that out long ago.”

“Well they haven’t. Paul sort of did, but he still tried to straddle the line. They won’t relent from being the best in everything. That’s their strength, but when options vary widely and they have to choose between them, they can’t handle that. They’ve been doing the impossible so long, they’re finally facing something they can’t cheat.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“I’d be happy to be proved wrong, but the do-it-alls are going to have to retool or become the jack of all trades, masters of none.”

“They won’t accept that.”

“No, they won’t. But something is going to have to give. If I’m right, Saiyan skill needs the higher precision. Essence needs larger wells. You can’t have both at the same time, and if you split your training between the two, you’re going to fall behind the specialists. The trailblazers’ head start only lasts for so long.”

Davis huffed. “Give them the playing field and they’ll figure it out. That’s one problem I don’t have to worry about.”

“It won’t be that easy this time. This has been stretching them for a while. I don’t think they can juggle this one, but it will be interesting to see how they tackle it.”

“Have you told them yet?”

“You’re the first.”

“Call them all in to the amphitheater.”

“All?”

“Let Paul be Paul for now. He can catch up later, if he hasn’t already figured it out by now...”

5

June 22, 154930

Poolion System (Home Two Kingdom)

Turron

It had been two months since Paul and Cal-com left the desert and returned to their ship. From there they’d flown under cloak to various parts of the planet, skipping over the cities and settlements and going for the raw nature that existed in many forms. First was jungle, then ice, and now the pair were camped out on a secluded island that had more beach than forest, but the air was warm, the waves gentle, and absolutely no one around.

Their ship was sitting invisible on one of the beaches with its landing skids making imprints into the sand, but otherwise you couldn’t tell it was there with your eyes or sensors, though Pefbar could see it. That said, Paul rarely used his nowadays, and let Cal-com get supplies out of the vessel whenever needed. Since arriving on the island Paul had remained outside, choosing to sleep under the stars or a primitive lean-to he’d made from dead trees.

The Human had said he needed to disconnect further from everything, and the Voku hadn’t argued. This was why he’d brought him out here initially, though he hadn’t expected the payoff to be so grand. Every day Paul changed some more, though the big swings were a thing of the past now. His genetic code was still shifting away from Human and towards something else…something more powerful, as attested by the fact that his cellular density was surpassing Human limits, and according to Cal-com’s Regenerator scans he was no longer physically capped.

That revelation had drawn raised eyebrows from Paul, but somehow he knew before he told him. He was gaining a very spooky sense of precognition with regards to information, but Cal-com put that down to introspection. If this was a buildup of adaptation surging forth now that he could finally relax, then with it would come a new sense of normal, and through that Paul was going to be able to see and understand things differently than Cal-com could.

What caused his initial change was still unknown. The mysterious companion hadn’t spoken to him since they’d left the desert, and Paul had spent most of his time sitting and observing. He guessed the ocean waves gave him something more to look at, and even now he was sitting on a rock with his bare feet dipping into the waves when they made their way up to him, and Cal-com knew to give him his space. His job was to watch over and protect, not monitor. Whatever was going on inside of him was beyond his knowledge or control, and Paul was going to have to ride this out on his own in one way or another.

From the outside he hadn’t changed much. His eyes were the biggest difference, and his skin had gotten a little redder. Not from sunburn, but from the alteration of his skin cells with different elements that normally would not be there. Somehow his alchemy ability was being used to manufacture stuff his body needed that didn’t exist in his foodstuffs. Paul said it was auto-activating, which had never happened before, and that was just one of many changes happening to him.

He hadn’t tested much of it, for fear of interfering in the process. Paul also hadn’t used Essence again as far as Cal-com could sense, and once he’d stopped again the changes in him accelerated back to their now normal cadence. Whatever buildup was left inside him was going to be worked through gradually, it seemed. Perhaps that’s the way it was meant to happen all along, but Paul had been bottling it up for some time so it got so intense when finally released that it blacked him out.

It was a loose theory, but the best they had at the moment. Paul said his mind felt like it was being jammed with static, and his top priority was to drain that away as if it was a toxin. He was attempting to do so now with meditation, but suddenly Paul’s body leapt into the sky and floated up some 20 meters above the beach and hovered there motionless, aside from his hair and clothes blowing in the gentle wind.

I’m fine, Paul said telepathically as he sensed Cal-com watching. Too much sitting.

Shall we switch locations?

No. This is a pretty good find. I’m supposed to do something, but I keep missing the switch. I can feel a need, but can’t find it.

You have to complete the transformation?

Maybe. Maybe not. I’m starting to get annoyed sitting still and not finding it.

Are you tired?

Not as much as before, but some lingers.

Sometimes the mind functions better when it has simple activity to open it up, while leaving plenty of processing power to roam where needed.

Any suggestions?

Let me try and hit you.

Paul smiled and flew over to where Cal-com was standing watch some 100 meters away. His bare feet landed in the sand and sunk in to cover his toes. “Flying or no flying?”

“Nothing higher than my head,” Cal-com said, pulling off his armored shoulder plates and tossing them to the side…where they transformed into little drones that hovered off the ground in sentry mode. Next came his shirt, showing his bare black chest that looked out of place on the lightly colored sand and green foliage beyond. “You need to be constrained from running away, but with your speed this shouldn’t be hard for you. You will have to pay attention…” Cal-com said, darting forward and punching towards the shorter Human.

Paul stepped backwards and sidestepped, with the larger fist passing by his face with an inch to spare. He reached up and slapped the forearm to the side then darted backwards, getting out of range as Cal-com pulled back.

“Not bad,” Paul offered, raising his arms into a defensive stance. “But you’ll need to do better.”

“I will try,” Cal-com said, coming at him again for multiple punches and kicks, trying to chase down the very slippery Archon. His one advantage was his leg length, which allowed him to cover more distance in a single step than his opponent, but when needed Paul could skid across the ground a few inches above it using his flight psionic Yen’mer.

Sand was getting kicked up everywhere, because they couldn’t truly step over it all at speed. So it got scraped and dragged into a dust cloud every time they veered off the wet sand the waves were keeping moist as the two proceeded in a sort of dance. Cal-com would advance, Paul would counter and retreat in a game of chase that didn’t really go anywhere, but roamed around the beach for the better part of an hour before Paul moved so fast he was one moment in front of Cal-com, then the Voku felt his arm being pushed aside as the Human slipped behind him and shoved him in the back…hard.

Cal-com fell face first into the sand, but rather than rolling out of it he just stayed there, sat down, and turned around to face Paul. “What did you do?”

“Something,” the Archon said, staring at his arms as he held them up in front of him. “I’m burning inside.”

“Good or bad?”

“Raw. It felt like I was pushing on the air for leverage, now my body is burning. Especially my arms.”

“Continue or…” Cal-com asked, but his words were cut out as Paul’s head went wobbly and his vision altered…except that it wasn’t his vision. He could feel all around him, like Pefbar, but it wasn’t. It was like the ocean had risen and he could see the subsurface currents trailing all around him, as well as creating eddies where it intersected with him.

All of this was overlaid on his regular senses, and though Cal-com was talking he wasn’t paying attention. Paul moved his arm up and saw the currents alter slightly, then realized the drag was causing the burn. He pulled back, inside his body somehow, and the pressure disappeared and the currents passed through his arms as if they weren’t there, but he could still see them.

“Wait a minute,” he said aloud, trying to make his arms heavy again, with the burn returning, then he tried to move them without using his muscles. Imagining his forearms going to the left following one of the currents…and suddenly there was grip there pulling his body that way. It felt a little similar to Yen’mer, but that was pushing and pulling off of gravity. This was actually touching something here, not a distant effect.

Doing so hurt, but Paul decided to try a little more before backing off. This time he tried to use his legs…but they wouldn’t work. Only his arms seemed to get traction, so that’s where he focused, being able to pull himself along against, with, and parallel to the current as if the direction didn’t matter, though he thought he noticed a bit more ease when going with it.

Before the burning intensified any further he let go and sat down, with the thump of his butt on the sand knocking away his enhanced senses and returning him to normal…except the pain remained.

“I’m sorry. I zoned out there.”

“Do not apologize. What did you learn?”

“A new way of moving. I can grip the air and pull myself along it, except it isn’t air. Doing so hurts, so I’m probably too new at it or not doing it right, but there’s something else here. Some kind of energy field…I don’t know, but something. I have intermittent access to it. It’s gone right now. I can’t make my vision change back to it.”

“Take your breakthrough and let it absorb,” Cal-com suggested as he knelt down next to his friend. “Perhaps this is what he meant.”

“Maybe, but I don’t see how this is connected to my Saiyan genetics altering enough to let me rest.”

“Could this new sense be connected to your ability to adapt?”

“I can’t rule it out, but nothing I experienced suggested that. It was just there to grab hold of, and I guess I did to get behind you faster.”

“Instinctively?”

“Ultra Instinct, actually. I think I slipped into it.”

“And accessed something you didn’t consciously know you had?”

Paul locked eyes with Cal-com. “That’s what he meant. The pressure blinds you. Ultra Instinct has to be slightly relaxed. You need full control, and taking on challenges stretches you too far for that.”

“You have to be OP?”

“That’s as simple an explanation as you can get. And if I don’t know what abilities I have, that doesn’t mean I can’t use them if I act on instinct rather than knowledge that I don’t have,” Paul said with a laugh. “When in doubt, shoot about. Even if I don’t have a target. I have been pushing too hard pressing limits without ever stopping to search myself for something that wasn’t designed to activate when a new skill level was reached.”

“Psionics triggers.”

Paul nodded. “What it took to find them isn’t the way to discover everything else. What if…what if my Saiyan genetics never stabilized because I never gave them a chance to? No, that’s not right. I did try, and every time I had to speed back up. Did the rest change my genetics, or did my genetic change allow the rest?”

“You relaxed first. Fell asleep before you started blacking out. The first change occurred during that sleep, but it wasn’t the first time you slept. I do not know what kept you asleep longer than normal.”

“That seems like a lifetime ago,” Paul said, laying back and looking up at the sky as his arms continued to annoyingly hurt. “If I broke through into something new before, I didn’t notice it. That means it didn’t hurt and it didn’t trigger my changes. No blackouts. The second time Harvey did something to expand my peep hole into it so I wouldn’t lose it again. Then the fireworks started.”

“Perhaps he triggered the initial alteration.”

“Or gave me a push,” Paul said, suddenly jumping to his feet. “Adaptation occurs in response to a need. Generation after generation adapt through reproduction by passing on some of the changes to our offspring. In this way a race adapts over time. All people are structured this way. Even plants are designed to change over time, though that’s based on pre-programming rather than training effect. Still, the universe is structured on adaptation and change. Can you name anything that is static?”

“Things that are not alive,” Cal-com wisely pointed out.

“True. And plants, while not people and not truly alive, are designed to facilitate those who are. The Life Springs spawn both the apple tree and the ones who eat the apples, and the inherent design is based on the same philosophy. An upward change. Adaptation doesn’t go in reverse.”

“Is it possible you are tapping into the Life Springs?”

Paul squinted funny as he looked at the sand. “That doesn’t quite feel right, but I think it is related…somehow.”

“You believe you were able to adapt in a surge, and that caused the rest of the cascade to take place?”

“Harvey did this to me, but if he’s telling the truth it was going to happen anyway and he just made sure it happened now rather than later. What if this is a plateau break?”

“Your genetics no longer read as Human. And those genetic limitations you had peaked out are now altered to allow you to go further. Perhaps adaptation had multiple avenues of advancement and you have discovered a more powerful one.”

“One that can massively rewrite genetic code?”

“If it can do so in small ways, why not large ones?”

“If that is true, then it must be tailored specifically to me. The changes have to be linked to what I did.”

“What have you done with your eyes to warrant the zooming upgrade?”

“Other than some focusing exercises to see if I could enhance them, nothing. They’re sensors, not muscles.”

“Did you ever wish to have an ocular zoom?”

Paul fell silent for a moment, then glanced up at Cal-com. “Did you sense any Essence use in me when I was blacked out?”

“No, but I also didn’t look for it. If I can only see inefficient use, perhaps this is something it is designed for.”

“Harvey said adaptation wasn’t about Essence, but what if Essence can be used to alter genetics? To allow you to adapt in a way that’s not normal. I can enhance the growth of a plant by imbuing it with Essence. What if I accidentally imbued myself so much that I triggered a transformation based on my subconscious needs or wishes?”

“That could explain the Hadarak Spice Lords.”

“I was thinking the same thing. How do you do genetic research inside a star or black hole? What if there was a ‘natural’ way to do it. We’ve seen other races with the ability to steal genetic code and incorporate it into themselves. Essence enhances everything else, why not this or something like it?”

“Did the Neofan mention anything about this?”

“Not a whisper. Either they are keeping it to themselves or they don’t know. But they did say that when a Life Spring occurs there is an Essence Rush. A huge one. So adaptation might not be caused by Essence, but I bet there is a correlation there, and I may have stumbled onto one and accidentally kicked in the other. Damn it, my arms still hurt and they’re not getting better.”

Cal-com mentally signaled for his two sentinels to return to his shoulders where they transformed into one solid mantle, and from which he extended a tether down his arm to his hand, which he think put gently around one of Paul’s arms to make the physical connection.

“There is a massive drain similar to what occurs to you body-wide with the visions. As if something else is occurring, but linked to your body and we can only see the symptom, not the cause.”

“Then Harvey is contacting me through this energy field thing…and I was able to reach back this time, instinctively, because I have the ability but without the knowledge to operate it.”

“I suggest you do not try again for a long time. There is so much drain it has damaged your arms.”

“Do something about that, please,” Paul said, cringing.

“Are you certain?”

“No genetic changes, just repair the damage. I can’t relax like this. Speed up the process.”

“Very well,” the Voku said, and a moment later cool relief flowed into Paul’s arms and he visibly sagged as the cellular stress damage was repaired with stimulated new growth that ate into the food stores within his stomach as well as cannibalizing small bits from Cal-com’s body on his command to do so rather than strip other parts of Paul for the materials.

“Over pushing indeed,” the Human lectured himself as Cal-com disconnected. “I don’t want to know what would have happened if I had really tried.”

“Whatever is happening to you, you are an infant in it. Take infant steps or risk your own destruction.”

“Baby steps. They’re called baby steps.”

“I would not know. I was never an infant, but I was clumsy upon waking at my birth even with genetic memory to guide me. You seem to have nothing but instinct here, so I advise you to be very cautious. We are under no time constraints. The galaxy will wait.”

“Right,” Paul said, putting a hand on Cal-com’s much larger arm as a gesture of thanks. “Guess that means nap time for me.”

“Eat first.”

Paul raised a finger as if correcting himself. “Eat first. How long can we stay here without going back to local food?”

“A very long time. I will inform you when that changes.”

“Stay small…got it,” Paul said as he began walking towards the trail that would lead across the small island to the beach on the far side that held their ship.

“Where are you going?”

“For a real shower. I’ll grab a snack on the way, then eat up after. Right now I need the seclusion, and there are too many critters in the water to truly disconnect from.”

“Civilization has its advantages.”

“That it does,” Paul said as he hopped from one bit of sand to another across some grass to where he’d left his shoes. Hardened skin or not, he didn’t feel like stepping on another thorn in the jungle brush, and his feet would forgive the momentary restriction once he got into a temperature controlled shower pod and mentally drifted off into nothingness while his body soaked…something he’d been far too wound up to do with his previous Saiyan metabolism always set to high.

But now he had a low setting, and since the pain in his arms had disappeared, that low setting seemed to be beckoning to him with a subtle urgency that he knew better than to ignore.

6

June 24, 154930

Solar System (Home One Kingdom)

Earth

Jason-025 had been one of the ‘no-essence use’ group from the beginning, though now they were all avoiding it. Wilson had wanted to extend the experiment longer so he could get better data, but the trailblazers had nixed that in favor of experiencing it themselves and poking around…which was now giving them more insight thanks to Wilson’s initial epiphany.

It came down to a matter of exhaustion. Mild exhaustion. But even a slight disadvantage would have consequences if you were unaware of it, and as Jason darted from one ring to another in a new obstacle course set up only 2 weeks ago, he could feel himself adapting to it mentally and physically rather than trying to make the course fit into his existing strengths.

It was a subtle thing. A little bit of perspective that had been missing, but now that he knew to look for something it was blaring loudly. He needed his Essence, and while using it and allowing it to recharge gave him some truly immense combat power, that power came at a cost.

And that cost was mojo.

He’d been discussing it with the others, and not one of them could cite a time when they had gone without Essence use for a period of no less than 2 weeks. Not one of them. Through thousands and thousands of years. They all kept draining it, even when they didn’t have a need to, in order to gradually increase their well size.

The was logical, but because they were relentless in their training and didn’t have the lapses lesser people would, they hadn’t been able to compare the two states…because they were never in the ‘no-use’ state.

And what was missing most of all was fun. Not something that could be analyzed or measured, but everything Jason did now had a bit of swagger that he hadn’t had before. That little bit of life that had been missing was back, and the pointlessness of the continual carnage in the universe was gone. Not because of any new reasoning, but rather because of a feeling.

A feeling that he was where he needed to be, doing what he needed, and as long as he had that he didn’t need to understand the universe to do his part in it.

His part. His path. Those had been numbed up from the Essence depletion as much as being 6 hours deep into a 10 hour training session. You knew you weren’t at full strength, but that didn’t matter. You had an objective to go for and you focused your attention and remaining strength on going for it. Afterwards you would rest and recover, clearing your fogged up senses, but this never-ending Essence use workout had kept them fogged up perpetually, and not one of them had figured it out.

Paul had sensed something, maybe because he wasn’t Saiyan 2 and could slow down a bit more to think. Yet right now Jason was quite active, his hair blonde, and his cells strained with enhanced super speed, but he felt relaxed as he dove in and out of the standing rings that looked like stargates as he zigzagged his way across a long gauntlet of auto-tracking stinger turrets that were throwing the old school stun-laden paintballs in his direction with remarkable accuracy. Enough that if he didn’t move with enough speed they’d wing him. Wilson had made sure of that.

But they didn’t require him to go at his maximum speed. He just had to keep a minimum, and it was a minimum he couldn’t do in base form. In Saiyan 1 he was stretched, but when he went Saiyan 2 the extra speed boost was enough to let him dance through the course with some measure of ease.

So over and over he ran it, and each time he got better at it, given the fact that it was brand new. And what this course had that no other in the history of Star Force had, was constant momentum swings. Jason was having to start and stop, almost completely negating his momentum at each turn, and when doing so you got more out of finesse than trying to keep maximum speed to the target and then slamming on the brakes as hard as you could to reverse course and dash through and around the rings.

Wilson was forcing them to be graceful, not overpowered, and it was working. Jason’s muscles were operating in sync at a level he’d never touched before, all based on movement rather than combat. The smoother he moved, the less energy it took. The less energy it took, the longer he could remain in Saiyan mode. And the way the course was set up, he had to maintain a minimum, meaning it wouldn’t let him slow down too much without getting stunned and slowed, then slowed some more until hundreds, if not thousands, of stings eventually ground you down until you fell unconscious.

Jason knew better than to step onto that slippery hill, so he just adjusted to what he needed to do to stay ahead of the auto-targeting turrets that were covering the ground behind him with blue and green splatters…but the road ahead was clear, and that’s all he needed to worry about. The course would be cleaned before the next run, and there was no doubling back and running multiple loops. It was all one very long course from start to end, taking Jason more than an hour and 12 minutes to complete it previously and covering more than a square mile of Atlantis’s interior parks.

Jason had wondered why Wilson had ordered the demolition of others to create this one, but as he moved through the course some 20 minutes into this session, he could feel his body almost glowing with liquid gold as one of his shoes gave out and ripped slightly as he redirected his momentum again.

That made him roll his ankle, but he recovered quickly and babystepped through his deceleration before launching the other way off his good foot and staying ahead of the stingers raining down very close to his right shoulder as he went back up the ‘V’ trajectory and through the entry side of the ring that led to a short straightway up to the next one.

Jason didn’t stop, instead adjusting to the torn shoe and looking at it as an additional challenge. When he got to the next reversal, he made sure to plant the weight of his last step on the good shoe, and in doing that he was able to keep most of his speed as the other one gave a little too much with each footfall, but it hadn’t disintegrated like Kerrie’s had last week. Part of him was still laughing at seeing her wipe out so spectacularly, but that just attested to how much momentum they were carrying with a combination of their mass and speed, and there was no way they could handle these redirects so fast while barefoot. The friction would be too much, so the shoes were a necessity, but the rest of Jason was only covered in a pair of skintight shorts.

A shirt would have only slowed him down with the air drag, and the others had learned to shed as much clothing as possible to goose their times. Jason’s run at a new personal record was shot now, but he was still going to finish it out if his shoe held up enough, because he was having fun with it now…for it was a new challenge spontaneously thrown at him, and one he had never faced before.

So he kept going, out of sync because one foot landed softer than the other one, but he adjusted to it by eating up his speed cushion that he’d developed earlier, but he was still staying just ahead of the stingers most of the time, while taking a few brushing hits here and there that numbed the skin where they made brief contact on his flailing arms.

He wanted to use Essence to denumb them, but didn’t want to break the trend he had going. He made it another 26 minutes, feeling rather good about himself as he happily struggled to stay ahead of pace with the shoe liability…then something snapped. But not in the shoe.

Jason shot right through the next ring rather than going behind it and coming out the correct way. He ran out of bounds and slowed to a halt as the stingers pelted him with dozens of shots, but he held up a hand and blocked them with a bioshield until the control room monitoring the runs saw his raised hand and deactivated the course.

Jason stayed put, feeling good, but knew something had happened. It was like a door had just opened and was waiting for him to move through.

The trailblazers stayed on his knees as he looked at his arms. They were almost throbbing, but not with blood flow. His Saiyan 2 state was still active, but not overtaxed. The surge was…something else.

It took him a moment to realize it was his Essence. It was pushing, but not moving. It wasn’t an Essence Rush, otherwise he would have been literally glowing in his enhanced vision. He checked, not seeing anything, but he could feel it. All over his body, as if he was inflating too far. It wasn’t something he had experienced before, but he knew it for what it was.

This was a plateau break, of some form, the question was what did he need to do?

Jason thought about it, but his instincts told him to feel, not think, and Qui-qon’s similar advice to Anakin surfaced from memory.

He closed his eyes and tried to smooth out his body, feel the pressure where it was and wasn’t, and move with the same grace internally as he had been physically. Jason became as still as a statue for more than a minute, then he finally found it. The relief valve wasn’t a spot in his body or mind, but rather a state he had to get his whole self into simultaneously. As if he was various shades of blue and purple, but he needed all of him to turn orange.

That was a bad example, but all his mind could manage at the moment. He didn’t know how he was adjusting his ‘color,’ but when he did his Essence drained from him…except that it didn’t. No Essence Rush occurred, but he felt the pressure lessen…and for a moment he thought he was breaking through into a Siphon, because he felt more Essence entering him from somewhere, but rather than a volcano shooting it out it felt more like a calm river cycling through him…and yet there was still no Essence Rush.

Jason belatedly realized that was because it was natural rather than forced. Essence Rushes must be when you made your Essence go where it wasn’t supposed to. This felt like his Essence needed to move, but the Neofan had mentioned nothing of anything like this.

After going through so many unknown psionic triggers, Jason had plenty of experience with situations like this, so he wasn’t afraid or panicked. He let the pressure bleed out and put as much effort into it as was required, and as he did so the internal ‘glow’ he had felt before, that ‘liquid gold’ sensation, mushroomed into something else entirely and consumed his entire body in a wave of coolness that quickly enveloped him and his consciousness.

Jason tilted over, hitting the floor unconscious as he spontaneously blacked out, with Wilson being alerted as medtechs were dispatched to his location on the course.

Vitor-003 had just started his run on the obstacle course. The cleaning machines were already clearing the path ahead of him rather than waiting for one person to finish the entire course. That would have been a waste of time, so once the ‘washers’ had enough of a head start the next person was sent off on their run, with multiple trailblazers typically being on the course at the same time, though they never saw each other.

Vitor was staying ahead of the auto-targeting turrets easily enough, and had gone a few minutes into his run when he got a telepathic warning from Wilson, saying that Jason had gone down near to his position.

The trailblazer didn’t hesitate to leap into the air, violating course rules, and flew to where he was sensing Jason was. His mind was easy enough to find, for it was buzzing with static, and several medtechs were nearing him but not there yet.

Vitor got there first, landing next to Jason and immediately realizing he was unconscious. He put a hand on his arm and used his Haemra to sneak a peek at what was going on inside, for Jason’s mind was blocking his telepathy.

He hacked in using his healing psionic while also using his Ikrid to try and get at his mind…but that’s not what happened. Whatever was happening to Jason leeched into Vitor, and he pulled back immediately, letting go of his friend and jumping back half a meter.

But the Malzahar-like plague stuck with him, expanding within his body and making his Essence move somehow. It didn’t feel damaging, but Vitor immediately tried to stop it, surging his Essence to push it out of his body and succeeding…but as soon as he stopped a piece of whatever it was within him surged forth again, spreading faster this time and making him feel like he needed to let it happen. Some pressure inside him was being relieved, and his instincts told him to both fight it and let it proceed.

Vitor tried twice more to stop it, then gave in and let it go as his attempts seemed futile and he began to crave it even more. He had no idea what it was, but as his vision started to get blurry he saw the medtechs arrive around Jason just as he collapsed to a knee.

“Don’t…touch,” Vitor said, just before blacking out a meter away from Jason’s feet as Oni-081 dropped down from the sky beside them.

“What’s happening?” she demanded as the medtechs held back, pulling out secondary equipment rather than the regenerators at Vitor’s warning so they could scan from a short distance away.

“Vitor said not to touch them, then he collapsed as well,” a Calavari medtech said, holding three different instruments in his hands while rubbing his forehead with the other in confusion. “Mental activity is high, but their bodies are reading as normal. Can you telepathically scan them?”

“Can’t get through. They’re sealed up tight. I’d have to touch them,” she said, kneeling down next to Jason but keeping several inches away. “Any pathogens?”

“Not on them or the air or the ground,” another medtech said, this one a Human, that was standing over Vitor.

“What happened?” Oni demanded.

“Jason went down and Vitor flew over. We just got here as he went down.”

“Shit,” she said, knowing there was little she could do without touching them. “Give me that.”

Oni telekinetically grabbed one of their regenerators and flew it into her hand, then she proceeded to mentally connect to it and reconfigure its myriad of settings, after which she threw it down next to Jason and watched as it sprouted legs and walked up onto his arm and settled into it.

“What if the warning was to protect them?” a medtech asked.

“The floor is touching them,” she scoffed as a holographic display screen popped up above it. “No reason it can’t in view mode. I’m not seeing any damage or interruption.”

The now 4 medtechs there pulled out datapads and wirelessly connected to that regenerator so they could get more data, but Oni just kept staring at the hologram rising above Jason’s slightly heaving chest as nothing seemed out of place.

“This doesn’t make sense. Their minds are jammed up good, but there’s nothing biological to trigger it. I don’t even see why they’re unconscious.”

“They’re in rest mode,” the Calavari said. “Deep rest.”

“Why are they still blonde then? They should be…”

“What do you suspect?”

Oni didn’t answer, instead mentally toggling the diagnostics to look at their Saiyan-specific cellular structure…then the Regenerator pinged a warning that the subject’s genetic code was being altered.

“Archon?”

“I see it,” she said, biting her lip as she thought. “Do any of you see a causal mechanism?”

“Nothing,” another Human said, with the others shaking their heads in agreement.

“What the fuck is going on, Jason,” she said, looking down at him, then over at Vitor…then she got a weird feeling from both of them, like a faint aura made of chilly wind that made her take a step back.

“Get back further,” she warned, knowing without any data that this was Essence-related. She couldn’t see it emanating from them, but she could feel it…in a form she’d never encountered before. “It’s not biological. It’s Essence.”

“Changing his genetic code?” the Calavari asked. “Should we stop this?”

“Hold on,” she said, jumping into the air ever so slightly then disappearing entirely with an audible pop. The air around them jerked towards her location, then a moment later it pushed back the other way, knocking down one of the Humans and moving Jason and Vitor slightly as they were dragged across the floor a few inches from the air displacement as she returned from the Essence Realm.

“There’s no one here messing with them. This must be internal. Let it play out for now. If it starts causing harm we can reverse it.”

“Not if the rate escalates beyond the ability of the Regenerators,” one of them said as Wilson finally arrived, flying through the sky much slower than Oni had, but he dropped down fast enough a step behind her.

“Essence related, but no visible exterior threats,” she reported as he walked by her and reached down to Jason, but she caught his arm before he could touch him. “Vitor said not to touch just before he passed out. Whatever this is may be contagious. I can feel a weird aura around both of them.”

“Testing a theory,” he said, gesturing with his eyes for her to let him go.

Oni frowned but relented, then Wilson knelt down and put his hand on Jason’s forehead and was silent for several moments.

Oni tapped her foot on the floor impatiently, prompting Wilson to turn his head and look up at her.

“And?” she demanded.

“I think this is a limit break. It’s having no effect on me, but keep your distance. All of you may be so close that one can trigger the other with a taste of this.”

“A taste of what?”

“Another theory I’ve been working on, with no data to back it up,” he said with his hand still on Jason. “I’m feeling a heavy dose of Delayed Training Effect, intermixed with non-rushed Essence. I can feel it swirling inside him, with no resistance. This may be a natural ascension.”

Oni knelt down next to him, but kept her distance. “And why would I not want in on it?”

“Remember Jason’s breakthrough to Lachka?”

The Archon winced. “Point. So we just let this run its course? They’re still in Saiyan mode, probably level 2. They’re going to burn up if it’s stuck on.”

“Wait and watch,” he said, flicking his chin behind her, “from over there.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said sarcastically as she retreated 3 meters further back then sat down on the floor cross-legged as she tried to break into either of their minds for even a glimpse of what was going on, managing to get a few wisps of buzzing from them over the following minutes as more and more trailblazers arrived from elsewhere in Atlantis, with Davis being the last to get there as they were all surrounding their two downed brothers who Wilson had laid out into less crumpled positions, but otherwise wouldn’t let the medtechs move them further.

“What’s happening?” Davis asked.

“Something significant,” Wilson said with an eerily epic voice. “And something beyond us. They’re breaking trail again. All we can do is follow and watch…”

7

July 1, 154930

Poolion System (Home Two Kingdom)

Turron

Paul was on the beach again, but not sitting. He was dancing through the sand, making a rhythm out of various movements, most of which were combat related along with a few connective poses. He was moving quickly, but well within his control, and the Archon had learned that this helped him think more freely than sitting and observing.

Or to be more precise, it helped him access his instincts better, and as he flowed through the movements his mind wandered a bit, with many tangents popping up, such as modifications to the Excalibur’s engines that he had been working on in perpetuity, border tweaks along the Hadarak front, microbiology lessons he’d been digging into deeper as he searched for a hidden link to adaptation in the structure of his own body…and many more things. They would pop into his mind and out, and after a while he almost forgot he was moving as his mental programs handled most of it with only a little input needed from his conscious mind.

And once again he slipped into it, with his view of the world shifting into multiple layers. Reality was still there, visible, audible, and tactile, but over top of it was an aery film that he could touch if he wanted to make his body burn again, but if he simply observed it didn’t do much to him. He didn’t see it with his eyes, but rather as another Pefbar, yet his ability was limited by range and focus. There was so much information he couldn’t process it all, so he had to be choosy, and again he focused on his immediate area while occasionally pressing his vision further out in a cone to see beyond the 6-7 meter spherical range he had.

So that’s it, he thought as an epiphany hit him. His normal vision couldn’t zoom, but his psionics could, particular Pefbar when he thrust the field all in one direction to get greater range. I’ve been training for it in another fashion, and it upgraded my actual sight. Fascinating.

Paul tried to not get excited, for every time he pressed too hard or got emotional this second layer would slip from him. Instead he simply touched the biosensor on his wrist with his opposite hand as he continued to dance, placing a time marker on the recorded readings so he didn’t have to mentally do it. He needed to keep his mind on track and get as much experience with this…whatever it was…as he could, so every second was valuable.

This was the 9th time he’d been able to do this in the previous days, and each time it seemed to get easier. As if he was soaking up whatever it was and starting to become part of it, or at least adapt to it. It felt like a cool breeze after a hard and exhausting workout, and sadly that’s the best description he could come up with. Paul had opened up a new sense, so there was no context to work with. He couldn’t explain to Cal-com what was going on, and even telepathic transmission didn’t work because his friend didn’t have the same sense, and thus the mental programs Paul was developing to handle it weren’t there to receive the information.

It was the same situation the Archons had been in when they’d unlocked Pefbar. Seeing in all directions at the same time was something their brains couldn’t handle until they developed new software to operate on. That came with the unlocked psionic, but try and pull a memory from someone with Pefbar and shove it in someone who didn’t have it and you’d quickly find that the memory would twist into something it wasn’t, or it wouldn’t take at all. There had to be some way for the receiver to process the sensory data, and if they didn’t have anything close then there was no context and no possibility of communication.

Paul did what he could to try and make Cal-com understand, but this was too radical for him to comprehend and he knew it, so the Voku didn’t press for information. Instead he tried to help Paul talk it through and analyze it for his sake, and he’d been helpful, but experiencing it was far better than discussing it, with the Archon losing himself in the dance that now had an extra element to it, knowing that Cal-com was on guard should any threats arise while he was distracted.

Little flakes of light would pass by every now and then, like motes of dust in the air as a ray of sunshine illuminated them, but these were moving on some type of currents, and if Paul wanted to burn a little he could latch hold of those currents and let them physically carry him along, or he could disrupt them and move them about like putting his hand in a stream or pond. There was movement everywhere, yet there was nothing. It was like a bright openness that could hold much, but currently held little.

And the more Paul stayed within it, the more his body changed. He could feel things sliding into place inside him, though the Regenerator couldn’t detect most of it. Paul thought it was probably more to do with his Core than his body, but his body would then take on aspects of his Core, possibly through his Essence in some way, but he hadn’t figured that out yet. In truth there was a lot he hadn’t figured out, but he now knew how to gain access to this second layer, even if it did take a few dozen minutes of prep work to get the right mojo in order for it to manifest.

He lingered in it for as long as he could, then it started to feel strained and he let it go rather than trying to forcibly hold onto it. The second layer disappeared and he was left dancing in the sand as something inside him popped…in a good way.

Paul felt a wave of fatigue hit him, and he knew it was time for his body to update again, so he spun to a stop and walked over to the shade under the trees where he laid down and closed his eyes, remembering to hit his biomonitor to mark the end of the timestamp, though it continued to record and transmit to the ship and Cal-com for review later.

Paul was almost asleep when the sound of the waves and wind cut out. He was curious and sat up to see what the change was, noticing that the distant horizon was foggy as an individual walked out from behind a nearby tree trunk and stood in front of him.

The Archon looked around, taking some mental notes for future use as he was pretty sure this was another vision even before the Zen’zat appeared.

“Been a while,” Paul said, not bothering to stand up from his seated position on the sandy dirt. “Do I get some answers now or are you just stopping by to say hi and run again?”

“Not as many as you would like, but your connection to the Saiolum has increased enough that I can force a connection for longer without damaging you. I have no current warnings to give. Your progress is steady and you are no longer being impatient. Ask some of your questions. I will answer what I can.”

“Who and what are you?” Paul said bluntly.

“I am real…not a vision. I once had a body such as yours, but I ascended into the Saiolum a long time ago. My Core is now rooted to it, and because of that I cannot die, but I also cannot communicate with others. I have no body and thus no physical connection. All I see is a shadowy reflection of the physical and the mental. That is why I can see your thoughts and those of others, but I cannot touch them. You broke through the barrier, essentially reaching out to me, and I returned the contact.”

“That answers the ‘what,” Paul pointed out. “Who are you?”

“I am of a race that no longer exists. We were called the Sha’kier, and our civilization rose and fell before Humans or Ter’nat existed. My name is Azoro Hikeer Mi’da’ruun.”

“How are you traveling?”

“An apt question. I can move through the Saiolum, but I have been riding on you for a very long time. Where you go, I go. Your physical position pulls me through the Saiolum similar to how you managed to pull your body a short distance earlier. When you travel between the stars, I am dragged with you.”

“Are you damaged?”

“No, nor am I fatigued. I do not have a body to register such things. The Saiolum sustains me similar to the way the air sustains you with oxygen. It is everywhere, deeper in some areas than others, but a planet such as this, or close proximity to a person like you, keeps it deep enough for me to exist within in perpetuity.”

“Explain the Saiolum,” Paul asked, not wanting to waste any of the apparently limited seconds in this conversation on small talk or trivialities.

“It is not your Essence. The Sha’kier had no knowledge of Essence, nor your self-sufficiency. We tried to prolong our lives through many means, but never could any of us live longer than 640 solar cycles. We would die, new generations born, as is the way of the universe, but only so much knowledge could be passed on in texts and training. Our civilization rose as far as we could in this manner, but we were capped. The Saiolum was our solution, and as you have just done, some of our people broke through the barrier and were able to sense it. Then use it. Our intergalactic civilization was based on the Saiolum, for without it we could not communicate with one another, among other things. Eventually we discovered how to transfer the attachment of our Core from our body to the Saiolum itself. When our body died, we survived, and through us the knowledge and experience of the Sha’kier continued on and the cap on our civilization was removed.”

“Where is your brain located? Your memories? Your skills? Your experience? Those should have been destroyed with your body.”

“The first ones suffered from that very problem, but not all is contained within the body. Some is contained within the Core, and that is not lost. We eventually learned how to take most of the rest with us, and even now my ‘brain’ is made up of constructions within the Saiolum. It is not the same, for I am using your brain to do many things right now that I cannot, but when connected to one, my full knowledge reappears. I was never meant to be without a body, and when mine died another was created for me. And another, and another. But we did not master this early. Until we did, we had to see through others, such as you, only to a far greater extent. And we could take control of them if necessary, and save them, in many cases. It was not until late in our civilization that we gained the knowledge to create avatars. Biologicals without a Core in them are tricky to construct, and we needed to connect and disconnect at will, but we eventually discovered the key.”

“Without knowing anything of Essence?” Paul asked. “Essence is what binds the Core to the body. What binds you to the Saiolum?”

“Most likely Essence. You do not have to understand or know of something in order to interact and use it. We learned a method and replicated it. Understanding was wanted, but not required. And where you have learned of Essence, you know nothing of the Saiolum. Nor do any in this galaxy that I have found. You are as ignorant to it as we were to self-sufficiency. In hindsight we missed the obvious, and it still baffles me how we could be so blind…yet you are blind to Saiolum.”

“Explain it further.”

“Biological life creates it. Both those with and without a Core. It is an energy field much like your Star War’s Force, except it cannot be used to affect the physical. I am helpless to do anything unless there is a bridge. You are one such bridge, and I have been waiting for you to arrive for a very, very long time.”

Paul’s danger sense spiked, but the Zen’zat image raised a hand to wave off such concerns.

“I am a threat to you, because you have broken the barrier. Beforehand I could not affect you, nor speak to you in any way. I do not wish to possess your body, nor would I be qualified to use it. If I tried to do so now it would kill you. My people trained for more than 70 cycles to become conduits between us and our civilization, and it was the second greatest honor imaginable. You are a mere spec compared to them in this regard, and I do not seek to groom you into a replacement. Do not fear, I only wish to speak with you and help you through this transition. I had many teachers and regimens to guide me through it. You have nothing, and yet you have managed to spontaneously generate the breakthrough. I had started to believe it would not happen again in another race.”

“How many of you transitioned to this ethereal state?”

“I was the 217th, and there were 43 after me.”

“And how many Ska’kier were there?”

“More than we cared to count. Far more than your entire Star Force population combined, and spread over 28 galaxies with colonies in many more, such as this one.”

Paul’s jaw dropped. “What happened?”

“We fell, and when my Avatars were destroyed and there were no more Ke’lars to speak through, I was cut off from my people. I watched as they were destroyed and could do nothing about it. I could not die, and that has become my curse.”

“What about the others that are like you?”

“We are called Ju’en’xa, and I do not know where the others are. My position locks on them were lost when their Avatars or Ke’lars were destroyed. The Saiolum can stretch between individuals and maintain a conduit wherever they go. This is how we obtained instantaneous communication between galaxies, but the connection must be made in person, then the distance applied, or a splinter from an existing lock could be created. I had one to more than a third of the Ju’en’xa, but they were all lost. Where they are now I do not know.”

“Did you look?”

“Yes, but without a rendezvous point how can you find another? We have no standard communication to work with. We cannot touch technology. And we can only go where there is life enough to sustain the Saiolum. Our worlds laid barren afterwards, so I could not return to many of them. Those that I could held no Sha’kier with the ability to even remotely connect to the Saiolum, let alone a Ke’lar. I watched as the remnants of my civilization fell apart, forgot who they were, and eventually were ground into the dust of a forgotten history…”

8

“Civil war?” Paul guessed.

The image of the Zen’zat shook his head a firm ‘no.’ “The greater you rise in power, the greater a target you become to those who cannot face the reality of the universe. Their insecurity leads them to destroy all that doesn’t support their delusions. We always had enemies, but the ones that killed us came from outside our galaxies, and outside our patrol zones. They came from the unknown, and with a universe so vast that we cannot begin to chart it all, how can we monitor threats that we do not even know exist?”

“Who were they?”

“It’s best if you do not know their names. Ignorance is a shield, in some cases. But know that they are responsible for the scourge of the Hadarak, the Apocalypse Monsters, and many other obscenities that you have yet to encounter.”

Paul froze deadly still as the ramifications of that raced through his Sav-enhanced…and now otherwise enhanced…mind. “How old are you?”

“I have no way to measure time in the Saiolum, and during my travels I lost track of those who did, such as your Star Force. My age would be in the billions of your years.”

“So you predated the Hadarak?”

“Yes.”

“And you were in this galaxy?”

“We had a colony here, or to be more precise a series of colonies that operated as bases that allowed us to patrol this swirl of stars and to reach out further beyond. We did not own, nor defend this galaxy, but we did exist within it, though not I. I traveled here by piggybacking on the Hadarak, for there was no other way to cross the void after they consumed this galaxy and the neighboring ones. Those races advanced enough to do so were targeted early, and what you see now are mere peons in comparison…though I will give you credit for achieving more than that. Your Star Force is a seed that could grow into a great power one day, but if you do so you will become a target, though this is not new to you. Your history is a testament to overcoming such adversities, though never with any guarantees.”

“Wait,” Paul said, raising a hand for emphasis. “How much more time do we have?”

“Minutes.”

“Then I want to know how we are so far behind the more advanced races.”

“There are many facets to the universe. Essence was one that my race did not discover, in all of our time, nor did any we knew of. Likewise, there are facets that Star Force is unaware of. Many technological. In time, I will teach you some of them.”

Paul raised an eyebrow.

“I understand your skepticism,” Azoro said. “This is all new to you, but I have watched you and your empire for most of your history, and I have traveled with you for many thousands of years, watching your actions and your conscious thoughts, which are mirrored in the Saiolum. I could not touch your memories or interfere in any way, and even now I cannot probe your mind without harming you. But I learned from what you were thinking, what you did, and what others around you thought and did. I knew you might be on the path to the breakthrough, as I thought of others in the past. None of them got to that point before they were killed or turned away from a life of advancement. Yet you have succeeded, and I know you probably better than any other being in the universe, though I am a stranger to you.”

“So much for keeping secrets.”

“If you do not think them, they cannot be seen from the Saiolum. And I know that is not sufficient, so I will also teach you how to shield your mind from me and the others. It will take millennia for you to grow to that level, but it is possible. We Ju’en’xa exist as repositories of knowledge, experience, and skill for our race. My race is now gone, and I have been purposeless and imprisoned in the Saiolum for most of my life. Being able to speak to you is a luxury beyond measure.”

“You’ve been alone all this time?”

“Able to see others, but they cannot see me. Able to learn about them, but unable to teach. Able to discover, but not touch. In that way, I have been alone.”

“And you can’t die?”

“No. And I will not destroy myself, though that temptation is always near. I fear the others may have, or may have been caught on worlds rendered lifeless. If our current portion of the Saiolum dries up, we will die. The thin filaments that stretch between galaxies cannot sustain us, but those between most planets can. We can travel in this way between the stars, but we cannot go where there is no, or little life. If I wanted, I could catch myself on a dying world and end myself in this way, but I cannot leave the thicker areas of the Saiolum by will. It is not possible.”

“So the Saiolum is not everywhere?”

“Is not light everywhere in the universe? By similar measure so is the Saiolum, but the amounts out in the void are too small to matter. Perhaps there are some very dark areas where nothing exists and the Saiolum is not present, but I could not know that, for I cannot exist beyond it, and anywhere a person travels you create the Saiolum in and around you. That is why I can travel with you across the stars, for your bubble sustains me.”

“If my ship exploded enroute, you die?”

“If the route is not thick enough, yes, so there is a risk in traveling, though the denser areas in the Core of the galaxy are free passage, as if a great sea containing everything there.”

“Including the Spring Points?”

The image of the Zen’zat nodded. “Though there is no life in them, the Saiolum is usually strong there.”

“You’ve observed them?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you see?”

“Cascades of energy and matter spontaneously appearing in a fixed point in space.”

“Relative to what?”

“Unknown. But this galaxy is correlated due to the fact that its matter most likely originated from the central point.”

“Central? Are there others?”

“Not within the swirl, but beyond it.”

“Where the Apocalypse Monsters lay in wait?”

“It’s far more complicated than that, but yes, there are ones deep in the void that I cannot get to, and dare not risk traveling to on a courier. I would be trapped for eons if they did not send another out. But we speak of irrelevant things. My time is short. Focus on more pertinent questions, for there will be another lengthy wait until our next conversation.”

“What plans do you have for me?”

“After viewing Star Force, I would describe my race as lightside-aligned. We did not hold to it as you do, but our natural inclination was one of building rather than destruction. Now that I have studied your philosophy, I find I am learning new things. You and the others are an anomaly within the dark universe, and I wish to aid you in your growth. You do not know the dangers ahead of you, but I know of many. When you finally seek to rid this galaxy of the Hadarak you will gain attention, but not much. Other things will make you more visible, and those I will caution you to conceal until you are ready…but you are not near them yet. Your breakthrough is the reason I am here now. I wish to be your Yoda.”

Paul laughed at the metaphor, partly because he didn’t use it right. “What did I do to make the breakthrough?”

“It is a natural erosion of the limiting factor. Only a builder or protector can attain it without outside help. One seeks to enhance life rather than end it. You must become in tune with the harmony of the universe, and when you get close the barrier begins to disintegrate. Combat is not harmony, and you are almost always in some combat mindset. You had to relax out of it in order for the erosion to take place. Normally it would occur gradually, but you altered so much without resting that your erosion occurred quickly…then you shut yourself out again when duty called on you. Once you relaxed, the opening reappeared and began to erode a bit more. I then stepped in and wiped away much of the crumbling barrier, ensuring that it could not recrust over if you became steeped in death and destruction again. It is necessary at times, but runs contrary to the harmony.”

“Define this harmony.”

“To understand harmony you must understand the scope of the universe. I am still learning, but what my race discovered over the vastness of time was that nothing remains the same. Everything is in motion, and the universe continually updates itself, either through adaptation of those currently in existence, or by creating new Life Springs to insert updated lifeforms into the Continuum. It will not let the Continuum stop, no matter what damage occurs. Nor will it allow stagnation to stop it. There can be no permanent peace, and no permanent death. The Continuum must always flow.”

“Are you talking about reincarnation?”

“The Sha’kier believed so, but in my solitudes I have explored a great many things I would not otherwise have the chance to. I cannot find any proof of reincarnation. I have not seen a single instance of it anywhere, and the mathematics of it are mind boggling. How many Cores are there? Is there a limit? Are new ones being created when needed? How many are being recycled? And how often?”

“The Apocalypse Monsters culling seems to suggest a population limit,” Paul noted.

“The Neofan are wrong about them. They are not a counterpart to the Life Springs. They are a lingering abomination in the Saiolum. We were not the first the break the barrier, nor the first to meld our Cores to it. What they have done I do not understand, but they are like me, bound to it in immortality, but they can also affect the physical in some way. Their harvest of life is connected to it, as is their fleeing the swirls of stars. They are not part of the makeup of the universe as the Life Springs are, the Apocalypse Monsters are people like us who have chosen a dark and sickening path.”

“You encountered them?”

“I did not, but others of my race did, and I was grafted with their memories. We Ju’en’xa are tasked with holding more than our own experience. We are also repositories of knowledge, so that if disaster befalls our race we can protect our legacy and rebuild it from a mere seed. We did not think it possible for all seeds to be destroyed. When we became weakened, threats from everywhere emerged to take their shots at us. We were not destroyed in one war, but by a swarm of enemies sensing the opportunity to eliminate us. Even without coordination they were thorough enough, and none of the survivors had, or were able to make the breakthrough thereafter, leaving me helpless to fulfill my mandate. That is why my previous position of ascension has become a curse. I once felt omnipotent in my immortality, then it became a prison until I saw the spark of the galaxy through your eyes once again.”

“Are any of your race still out there somewhere for us to recover, no matter how primitive and distorted by time?”

“I have searched this galaxy and the others extensively. If they survived I would have found them.”

“How?” Paul asked skeptically. “This galaxy alone is vast.”

“I do not have to travel to a place to see it. I can sense from afar, looking through the Saiolum to view things in real time from elsewhere. It is very specific, while broad sensing is much more limited, but I do not have to rely on travel alone to search.”

“Realtime?”

“The Saiolum does not operate on particle physics, but rather connections. Insulated ones, but even now I can see your brothers on Earth. I put markers on them, establishing a link wherever they go. I can monitor them at will because of this. They are transforming partly as you are. Your brother Jason was the first.”

“They’re making the breakthrough?”

“No. They are not close enough. I checked previously when you all assembled, and even before. They are less of builders than you. You see the galaxy as an interconnected puzzle, while they view it as a playing board. The difference is a subtle one, but it diminishes the erosion of the limiting factor. They are also hopefuls for the future, given your longevity, but you and you alone were prospect for the breakthrough now, which is why I have continued to travel with you rather than staying with them.”

“Why travel if you can mark us?”

“The marker keeps me connected, but the greater the distance the thinner the connection. It remains instantaneous, with the depth being the limitation rather than the lag. I could not have helped you stabilize your breakthrough had I not been with you. It required envelopation of my Saiolum matrix.”

“So why can’t you search and find the other Ju’en’xa with your galactic broadband sense?”

“They make no ripples if not active, and without an Avatar or a Ke’lar we cannot be active. Without a ripple to follow or a knowledge of where to look, I cannot find them.”

“Is your interacting with me creating a ripple?”

“A very small one. If they were in this system they could sense it, but not far beyond. And that is only due to the quietness. When my race was at our height, there was enough noise of multiple ripples to hide ones as small as this. Now it is silent, other than you.”

“How noisy am I?”

“Your power level is tiny, so you could not attract attention from afar even if you wished it, but your scent is all over this galaxy. That is not your connection with the Saiolum, but your actions and thoughts. Your very state of being gives off a scent, as does every other living thing in the universe. These flow along the connections of the Saiolum, and from these I can learn much of what is happening near and far. These are black and white, whereas an action in the Saiolum itself is in color, if you understand the metaphor adequately.”

“The color is easy to spot even in crowded areas?”

“Indeed. As you grow you will become more visible, and in time that will attract enemies to you.”

“You said Jason and the others were not breaking through, but that they were transforming. You also said multiple things were occurring to me. My blackouts weren’t from the breakthrough, were they?”

“No. Your breakthrough unleashed a lot of pent up transformations that your obsessive training had kept suppressed. You are catching up on many of them, but you are also utilizing a power that the Sha’kier never possessed, though I have learned of it since. Your adaptation does not come from Essence, but Essence can trigger it. In this way, you are not confined to your physical form’s limitations. You can customize to greater heights if you attain the necessary prerequisites, and that is what you have attained. Thus your Essence is triggering a rewrite of your genetic code to level up your avatar while other adaptations kept pending are also unfurling simultaneously. There is a hierarchy amongst the universe. Not all races are equal, and your Human race is not the equal of the Sha’kier. This is why we were able to reach the breakthrough point with many of our people. But you are now transcending your race and becoming a new one. One which you can reproduce if you wish, assuming the changes aren’t so radical to make you incompatible with female Humans.”

A weight on Paul suddenly left him, as well as a facepalm moment hitting him luxuriously hard. He and the other trailblazers had felt constrained after they reached Goku level and their bodies had very little room to improve based on their cellular density. It was a plateau that they could not break, but then was cheated with the Saiyan genetics, and then even more so with Essence. But the plateau remained none the less, and that had always felt wrong to Paul. As if plateaus were meant to be temporary, and that there was always a way to break through them, even if you never discovered it.

Now he was breaking that myth, and his own physical limitations as his Essence was somehow rewriting him into the next level of ‘avatar’ that would unlock more physical levels to train towards.

The last bit of wrongness with the universe that he had been carrying around like a noose finally broke free, and despite all the horrors and unfairness inherent in life, Paul now saw he was back on his path…and in fact had never left it. Rather, he had been going through a foggy section where he couldn’t see where to go or chart his course, but his aim had been true and he had gotten to the other side…after relaxing and making himself ‘small’ again.

He owed Cal-com for that, but now that he was past the blind spot everything felt right again, and more potent than ever.

Limits were a myth, and however cruel the universe was, it had layered in a pathway of continual advancement if you were worthy enough to discover and utilize it.

“This is the way,” he said, quoting the Mandalorian, and knowing that Azoro would know what he meant since he was able to hear his active thoughts.

“It is, for your empire. You have a long way to go to catch up to what we were, but with the combination of your knowledge and mine, you have a possibility to one day exceed us. And for that reason…along with a healthy dose of revenge…I am willing to share my knowledge with you, if you want it.”

“And a new Avatar?”

“That is far beyond your biotech capabilities now and in the near future, but one day later, if you and I can succeed in this endeavor, then yes. I would like to breathe the air once again and take part in the universe.”

“There is one condition,” Paul said warily.

“I may be no Jedi, but I abhor the Sith as much as you. I will not turn to the darkside. Your lightside philosophy is the greatest strength your civilization has, and it is one that exceeds our own, in retrospect. You must continue to pursue it, for it is the glue that holds your many races together. Without it, you would crumble quickly. This I say from great experience observing others fail.”

“Well then, Azoro. What’s the next step?”

“You need to complete your physical upgrades. Be patient and let them unfurl. You cannot force this. Once you are finished, we will speak again. Until then I must let your connection rest. It is taxed greatly already. Do not attempt to connect to the Saiolum for several days. Now rest, youngling. You have much work and many adventures ahead of you, and you need to begin on a solid footing.”

The Zen’zat image disappeared and a huge wave of fatigue smacked Paul so hard he fell back onto the dirt/sand and nearly passed out, but he resisted enough to sit up and look at nearby Cal-com who was noticeably worried.

He gave him a thumbs up gesture, then laid back and passed out again.

9

July 8, 154930

Solar System (Home One Kingdom)

Earth

Jason blinked his very groggy eyes as he woke up, feeling stiff as he rolled over and realized he wasn’t in his own bed. He was in a medbay, with numerous people around him.

“Welcome back, sunshine,” Wilson said sarcastically from his right. “That was a 22 hour nap.”

“What…the…fuck…”Jason said, sitting up as everything in him hurt in some ambiguous way.

“Did you use your Essence at all prior to blacking out?”

“I haven’t used it at all recently.”

“They’re pulling data constantly,” Wilson said, gesturing towards the medtechs that surrounded him. “But I think you and Vitor have hit a Limit Break and your Essence auto triggered some effect that is so efficient it doesn’t produce an Essence rush.”

“Vitor?” Jason said, looking around.

“In another room, still blacked out. When he touched you, he went out too, but I didn’t. I think you’re all so close to the Limit Break being exposed to the transitional Essence was enough to trigger him. The others have been told to keep their distance.”

Jason held his hand to his head. “Either that was really confusing or my head is hurting for some other reason.”

“Your genetic code is being rewritten,” Wilson said flatly. “I think it’s upgrades, but we’ll have to wait and see. Already some of the muscular limitations of your cell density have been surpassed. Goku levels aren’t going to be your peak anymore, and we’re seeing activity in a lot of other areas. I think the blackout was a way to hyper process, and the active readings aren’t showing a stoppage. You’re still changing.”

“How can you be sure this isn’t tampering by someone?”

“Can’t, just a gut feeling, but if someone has a way to alter your genetic code, we can’t find the tool they’re using to do it, but your Essence is flowing inside you in a way I’ve never felt before. Same with Vitor.”

“Has he woke up?”

“Not yet. I’m relieved you are.”

“I don’t think it’ll last long,” Jason warned. “I’m loopy enough I might pass back out.”

“Then don’t stand up. Try and calm yourself as much as possible. Relax and let this play out. I’ve been hoping for something like this for a long time, and you don’t want to squash it by treating it like an enemy.”

“You never said anything.”

“It was just a hope, nothing more. The universe is structured for continual advancement and adaptation. You and the others hitting physical limits didn’t feel right. Essence was a relief because it was a work around, but if it can actually change your genetic code and upgrade you into a higher form, that lets a lot of other puzzle pieces fall into place for me.”

“Me too,” Jason agreed. “I hope that’s what’s happening. I can’t confirm or deny. I’m just a mess right now. Do you know what the trigger was?”

“Not using your Essence is related. Maybe it was just a matter of letting it settle inside of you so this could happen, and constantly draining it prevented the change. Might be that this could have happened long ago and you’ve been stalling it. Could be something else entirely. Your biomonitor data isn’t revealing, and that leads me to believe it’s definitely Essence causing this.”

“Which means we can’t analyze it,” Jason said, leaning over on his elbow as he stayed on the elevated bed.

“Nothing in the Temples can either. Either the Neofan are holding back information, or this is something beyond their knowledge.”

“Paul?”

“No word. But he’s got Cal-com with him. If he blacked out like you then he’s got a bodyguard.”

“I had no idea this was coming.”

“Nor did your biodata. Whenever I start to think we’ve solved most of the universe’s mysteries, it smacks me in the head like this, and I rather like it. Training was getting kind of boring with caps all over the place.”

“Am I getting any new super powers?”

“So far it looks like an upgrade of all existing base functions, but you’re still in flux so who knows where it will stop. I don’t think there’s a risk to you, and none is showing as of yet. But if this happened in the field, you’d be helpless.”

“That would be ironic. The universe gives you this monster upgrade and gets you killed by some passing newb at the same time,” the Archon said, laying back down again. “I’m starting to lose it.”

“Let yourself process. I don’t think there’s anything you need to actively do.”

“Guess you’re not grown up enough to be affected.”

“Insulting as that is, it’s better so I can sense your Essence by touch. If there’s a problem I want to know immediately.”

“Thanks,” Jason said, with his voice wobbling, then his eyes closed and his hands folded over his abdomen as Wilson felt him lose consciousness again, though in a more controlled manner than last time.

“Another spike,” a medtech said, referencing the rate of change.

“Good boy,” Wilson whispered to Jason, guessing that had to do with his state of mind as he put his hand over his forehead and tried to sense as much of what was happening on an Essence and Ikrid level as he could, but he was like a two year old trying to understand calculus. There was just too much to comprehend more than the occasional tidbit that he caught.

“Increase his foodstuffs,” Wilson ordered. “If he puts on a little fat that’s fine, but we need to overestimate his requirements. I don’t want any roadblocks for the changes.”

“Then I recommend atmospheric alteration,” a medtech said. “His oxygen levels are a little low, probably due to consumption overdraw rather than blockage.”

“Do so, and Vitor too, on both counts. We need to aid the transition as much as possible, and cross our fingers that I’m right about this.”

“If you’re wrong, we’ve already passed the threshold for the regenerator to return their genetic code to normal.”

“I know, but I don’t want to deny them this because of misguided caution. No known external source created it, and if it’s coming naturally then we’re running with it, for better or worse. And I doubt it could be worse than their Saiyan transition.”

“Things can always get worse.”

“Thank you, Captain Negativity,” Wilson said, his hand still on Jason’s head. “He’s going to get through this, and with a little luck he’s going to open up a new whole new avenue of advancement for the Archons and our medical science.”

“I don’t think this is completely new,” another medtech said that was analyzing a series of holographic displays.

Wilson took his hand off Jason’s head and turned around. “What have you got, Gerald?”

“I’m starting to see some familiar patterns emerging. It’s early, and far from conclusive, but these advancements have the slightest feel of another genetic code I’ve examined in detail. I thought so a moment go, but this new spike is adding to the pattern.”

“Which one?” Wilson demanded.

The Mastertech turned away from the data for a moment with slightly wide eyes, as if he still couldn’t believe what he was saying. “The dragons.”

“I thought we removed the genetic trigger and the imbedded transitional code,” Davis asked angrily from his office as Wilson and Gerald were sitting across his clear desk giving him the latest news on Jason and Vitor…and their concerns.

“We did,” Gerald said firmly. “This is not coming from a buried trigger of any kind. Zak’de’ron medical science isn’t that far ahead of us now, and I’d be able to detect it if it was still there. It’s not something they did, but his genome is rewriting itself along similar lines.”

“He’s not turning into one of them,” Wilson added. “I think it’s an upgrade along a similar path.”

Davis scoffed. “They always claimed they were superior. Are you saying that genetically they were correct?”

“Are Zen’zat superior to Ter’nat?” Wilson replied pithily. “It’s more about the pilot inside the body, but the body does matter. Adaptation of it always implied a pathway to improvement, and in retrospect it makes sense that there would be another mechanism of advancement when physical adaptation reached the limits the genome could allow.”

“I thought the Zak’de’ron only recently discovered Essence?” Davis demanded. “Is that another lie?”

“I have no way of knowing that,” Gerald apologized.

“No,” Wilson said firmly. “I don’t think they were playing dumb. It may be that the Life Springs create races on a wide range of levels. If Ter’nat were a level 3, and they got upgraded by the Zak’de’ron into a level 4, the Zak’de’ron may have been spawned a level 6 and upgraded themselves into a level 7 or 8 the same way we created the Saiyan upgrade.”

“A head start?”

“It’s beginning to look that way.”

Davis sighed. “Assuming this all works out, are we looking at the birth of a new race?”

“Yes,” Gerald said reluctantly, “I think so. Jason and Vitor are already beyond what our technology recognizes as Human. I don’t know how far it will go, but while visually they look like us, at a cellular level they’re changing. Superhuman might be a better description.”

“Can they breed other Superhumans?” Davis asked ominously.

Wilson blew out a long breath. “Damn, I hadn’t even thought about that.”

“Gerald?”

“In theory, but without seeing the final product I don’t know. Their reproductive systems are still deactivated. That hasn’t changed yet. I checked that and every other alteration we’ve made to them. Their Saiyan upgrades aren’t being erased, they’re being incorporated into the new genome, and while I don’t know how, Jason and Vitor’s metabolism has gone very low with the normal high spikes. That’s the only way they could be asleep for as long as they are. Somehow the lower limit that we created is gone. They have the option to slow down and rest, though at the moment it seems to be forced upon them. We wanted to give them that option, but we didn’t know how. That alone is a huge upgrade, from a cellular perspective. I’m not sure how it will affect their training,” he said, glancing at Wilson.

“They’ll be able to advance again. Beyond that I’ll figure it out, but I don’t think this is a new phenomenon. There are stories, legends, myths, from a handful of other races about an individual that goes out into the forest, desert, deep space, etc and comes back changed. Not visibly, but their power level is significantly greater. Some have new abilities, and their history after that usually ends up badly. Some are killed by their people, others become tyrants, one even killed himself because she was too unlike the others. Some were said to be sterile, while others reproduced offspring that had some of their power, creating splinter races greater than the ones they came from.”

“Did any of those races possess Essence knowledge?” Davis asked.

“Not a one of them, as far as I can tell.”

“You looked into this previously?”

“I have looked everywhere I can regarding physical and mental development, including legends and lore. I didn’t put it together until now, but there seems to be a common thread.”

“So, maybe this can happen even if you don’t have Essence powers?”

“Jason didn’t consciously trigger it, and it’s not an Essence Rush. But the bigger point is, if you do have Essence powers, can you manually trigger it?”

“The Neofan?” Gerald asked.

Davis glanced at him. “Do you know something?”

“The samples we’ve been able to collect from them have indicated different strains of genetic code, almost as if there were different versions of their race, and we’ve only encountered one of their Houses. If they exclusively reproduce with their own House…”

“They do,” Davis confirmed.

“Then why would there be such wildly different strains of genetics within their House? I’m not talking mild stuff, but different cellular structures.”

“Holy shit,” Wilson said, putting his head in his hands.

“Ditto,” Davis agreed. “And I think we may have solved the riddle of the Spice Lords as well.”

It took a moment for Wilson to process, then it clicked. “How could they produce other forms if their natural state is one that can’t survive the void or produce technology? You think they can use Essence to do ‘Force Adapt?’”

“I’d bet you a planet it’s somewhat related to that concept.”

“I have no knowledge of anything related to this,” the Mastertech said.

“Why would you?” Wilson scoffed. “Those races that have it aren’t likely to want to share, and those like the Hadarak seem to be more hive mind or instinct driven then others. I’m still not sure what to classify them as, or the Uriti. Their intelligence level is so low for such large minds, yet they have another type of intelligence that I can’t identify. Even the Wranglers have a hard time explaining it, other than saying they’re ‘bigger’ than us. And if this Essence upgrade runs itself, then the intelligence of the individual is irrelevant.”

“You’re suggesting the Neofan and others are triggering unknown upgrades and, perhaps, generating biological knowledge by using their Essence to give them a gift, then analyzing it?” Gerald postulated.

“Which means they don’t really earn it,” Wilson said with a cringe. “I think there would have to be some prerequisites, otherwise they’d just hit the ‘evolve’ button over and over until they exhausted it. But you may be right. Their attitude is one of inheritance rather than merit.”

“Is this Life Spring related?” Davis asked.

“There’s no Essence rush, but then again there’s no molecular creation either, so it’s possible,” Gerald offered. “Anything going into Essence is ambiguous for me since I can’t analyze it or use it.”

“If there’s an order to how the Life Springs create different level races,” Wilson suggested, “then this very well may be a smaller utilization of it manifesting.”

“Manifesting is the best word I’ve heard used thus far,” Davis said as he got a message pinging urgent. He mentally swiped it open and read it in the blink of an eye, then put it up on hologram for the others to see.

“Morgan’s down too, and not from contact. Is this going to happen to all of them over the coming weeks?”

“If no Essence use is the relief value allowing it, then I’d say yes,” Wilson said frowning as he read the details visually. “Same course. I’d guess she was trying to replicate what Jason was doing and succeeded.”

“Why would she do that?” Gerald asked, drawing mildly hilarious looks from the other two men.

“Archons value upgrades more than anything,” Wilson said vaguely. “Beyond that it’s hard to explain, but let’s just say it’s their typical nature to dive into the unknown head first when they see a benefit.”

“I would have thought they’d be wise enough to wait until Jason and Vitor’s fate was determined. We’re only guessing this will have a beneficial outcome. It’s possible they could die if the changes don’t occur correctly, or many other possibilities that I can’t even name because I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Archons are only patient by choice, not by nature,” Davis explained. “It’s one of the attributes in the psychological makeup we look for in recruitment. Curiosity isn’t something that can be taught, though it can be drawn out and trained if already there. In order to do what they need to do, they have to push themselves rather than wait for others to instruct them to act. This borders on recklessness without becoming stupidity…usually. You never know for sure, so there’s always a risk, and risk is our business more than anyone’s.”

“Well said,” Wilson agreed, knowing Davis was speaking as both observer and observee now that he had belatedly become an Archon.

“Do I need to get an entire wing set up?” Gerald asked.

“Yes,” Wilson said, “except…” he said, glancing dangerously at Davis.

He saw it too. “Tell Kara to start using Essence again, now, and keep her away from the others. All of them, until this is over. Go.”

Wilson jumped out of his chair and ran from the office, not knowing what would happen if she also started to transform...and her Vorch’nas’ fought it.

10

September 23, 154930

Solar System (Home One Kingdom)

Earth

Jason rolled out of bed after another 12 hour nap, then groggily walked over to his quarter’s interface terminal as he brought up the recent biomonitor data to see what he’d gained. Turned out there wasn’t much change this time, but a continuing of previous changes as they morphed a bit more. The medtechs said it was not uploading a new genetic code into him, but rather crafting one to his personal status.

That meant all of the trailblazers would end up with a different genetic code, and so far they’d already seen a few considerable differences. All 99 of them here were now going through the process, some ahead of others, with Devan-000 ironically being the last to naturally catch ‘the bug’ that had them all blacking out.

Thankfully Jason was past that point, and as long as he didn’t try to overtax himself he could actually find his way to his quarters and his bed once he began to feel the deep fatigue creeping in on him. Sleeping this much was unnatural, and his Saiyan genetics had gone through several alterations early to allow it. It looked like they’d been tweaked again this time, though how he couldn’t be sure. His body couldn’t be tested like he wanted without doing heavy training, and that was the biggest thing after Essence use that Wilson had told them to avoid.

It was time to rest, he’d told them, and the more they did the more they changed, with several new powers popping up in others, though Jason had yet to have one of his own. His body was reworking itself into a more powerful form, that was obvious, but Roger-009 had already grown two inches and increased his inner skull volume by a whopping 38%...along with a new piece of his brain that contained neurons so dense they didn’t look like they belonged there.

The rest of his brain…and Jason’s…was upgrading and getting more complex, but for some reason Roger had grown this new addition, and it was suspected the body size increase had been to accommodate it. His head was also shaped slightly different now, a touch wider and a little peaked on top like a stunted Mohawk, but not outside the range of skull shapes the Human population currently had.

Nobody had grown a tail…yet…but Morgan’s Jumat tissue had spread even further throughout her body, though it had actually shrunk in size. Apparently version two didn’t require as much mass, but she could control it like Lachka within a certain radius of her body without transforming it into the ‘hard’ version and throwing it at opponents.

The combat applications of that were going to be vast, yet she wasn’t able to do much right now than get a little practice in before her body became so fatigued she’d pass out. She kept pressing it to that level, Jason had heard, rather than going easy and taking preemptive naps, and so had a few of the others, but most of them were taking a sleepfest of a vacation right now, Jason included.

Riley-038 was as well, but one day he woke up to find his skin completely albino…after which he realized he had conscious control to change the color of it. Not fast. He had to concentrate and it would take a few hours to process, but he had a wide change of color options beside the normal Human melanin pigment densities. He’d told Jason through the message board that they were communicating through since they weren’t awake long enough, or at the same times, to meet face to face, that he was trying to see if he could do patterns on different parts of his body, but he hadn’t had any success yet. He was hoping that if he tried for it now, the continual updates might add it, and many of the trailblazers were speculating that what they did between the blackouts might affect the new coding.

The bulk of it was suspected to be caused by past actions queued up over the years, but no one knew for sure what was going on and Jason didn’t know whether or not Riley and the others were correct, but he didn’t feel like pushing for anything new. What he wanted was to stabilize enough that the long sleep periods were possible afterward. His Saiyan metabolism had shown considerably lower range than had been possible before, but it wasn’t down to Human level. He was hoping it would stretch lower, and in a way him taking things easy might have been a subconscious effort to train himself to slow down more, but in truth it was just a gut feeling on his part. He needed a break, not logically or biologically, but deep down inside he recognized that this was a long time in coming and he didn’t want to delay it any further.

Jason leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling as tears burst forth. That wasn’t unusual for the past few weeks. His emotional combat blocks were all deactivated now, and it seemed some of the stuff he’d numbed his way through previously in life was being analyzed by his subconscious belatedly and he was feeling the emotional toll from it.

He just let the tears flow rather than trying to stifle them. Opening up was what he needed more of, not closing down and delaying. His instincts were blaring that much at him, and several of the others had posted similar things. Thankfully they were in the safety of Atlantis, buried in the ocean on the capitol planet in the capitol system of the Star Force empire, and arguably the safest place they could be to deal with this metamorphosis…but Paul wasn’t here, and they hadn’t had a single update from him or Cal-com since these changes began.

A pain in his back jerked him out of his lethargy, causing him to stand up and reach behind him to rub a spot around his left shoulder blade as a pinging on his monitor followed.

“What, am I going to sprout wings?” he said sarcastically as he looked at two points on his back that had spontaneously started altering their physical components. He was able to zoom in on the realtime hologram of his body…which was a little weird…and saw that two different nodules of his bioshield psionic Nakane were growing rapidly.

Which probably explained why he was suddenly so damn hungry.

Jason used his terminal to call for some food to be brought to him, and it wasn’t the first time he hadn’t the strength or courage to walk over to the nearest cafeteria. He’d puked twice during these transitions, and had been in the bathroom with the runs more times than he could remember. His body was processing a lot of material in and out, but none of it seemed too extreme. He’d figured out the puking was because he was eating the wrong mixture of foods, and it was his body’s way of telling him not to overload on protein. What he needed was a lot of trace minerals such as cobalt, gold, platinum, corovon, and others that were being added to his cells here and there, some in ways the medtechs were still scratching their heads over what they were for after crafting a ‘finder’ pill containing tiny amounts of all the elements and basic molecules they had on file, then they would track which ones would be absorbed or rejected.

Since that time and his food was altered to match, the transformation had gotten a lot smoother, but there were still spikes of pain like this one that jumped on him without warning, and right now he wanted to play hermit more than anything, and hadn’t even bothered to take a short run in 3 days.

The fact that that wasn’t bothering him was scary in and of itself, but part of him was relishing the doing nothing…which meant that internally a lot was happening, otherwise it would have registered as stagnation and caused him to itch for something to do.

Jason sat back down and just stared at the walls for a while, feeling that the best thing possible was to just become a paperweight and ride this out. A tray of foodstuffs was left outside his door a few minutes later, and he got up out of his chair and walked over to retrieve it, seeing the delivery drone hovering off down the hallway as it left.

He bent over to pick it up, not having used his telekinesis in weeks, and when he did his other shoulder blade sent a spike of pain up his neck to discourage him from bending over further. He cheated and used his Lachka to lift the tray the last few inches into his hands, then retreated inside his room as he began to stuff himself with as much food as his stomach would take…and by that time he was already getting drowsy again, so he took a quick shower, browsed the message board, then laid back down in bed and let his body get back to its hyper processing as both shoulders continued to ache with pain and heat as the cells grew and mutated faster than they were built to.

Wilson was working long nights and sleeping very little as he tried to give the trailblazers whatever guidance and answers he could, but most of what was happening to them was brand new, so he was pushing himself and the medtechs hard, with many more being recruited from the rest of the system and even off planet, and told to get their asses here as fast as possible to help with the mass of analysis that was needed.

They were feeding Wilson puzzle pieces as they figured out what this and that were doing, or could do, and it was his job to put everything together. The fact that they were not all transforming into the same thing had been a little shocking, but now it was making greater and greater sense. If one adapted to what they did and experienced, then individuals should not end up in exactly the same form from training, let alone whatever ascension process this was, but the growing differences between the trailblazers was far more drastic than anyone would have guessed.

Yet some things were the same, such as their Saiyan genetics stabilizing and their bodies creating organelles that would actually produce ambrosia to be stored in their existing nodules…and as it turned out, the new creation process was some 1500 times more efficient than the best industrial manufacturing methods they’d been using to date. The new process was already cataloged and sent out to the engineers so they could begin implementing it technologically, and that one breakthrough alone felt like a massive cheat. They hadn’t earned their way to it with trial and error, it had simply been gifted to them through this metamorphosis, and Wilson began to wonder if many of the more advanced races in the universe had technological breakthroughs thrown in their lap in this fashion. If it did, it would explain why many of them sucked so badly in terms of exploration and research.

Wilson was reviewing 6 things at the same time, bouncing back and forth between them, when an automated message pinged him. He’d set the city’s computer to alert him whenever Paul or Cal-com returned, and it seemed their ship had just arrived in orbit, but with no heads up they were coming…otherwise that would have been transmitted to him immediately.

All he got was their assigned landing pad along with a tracking beacon that showed him their current descent towards the thin atmosphere that surrounded the planet.

Wilson dropped everything and ran out the door, hoping to get to the landing pad before they did. He didn’t even bother trying to contact them on the comm. If they were coming in silent that meant something good. If there was a threat they would have warned of it. And if there was nothing to report they still would have checked in to inquire on the progress of the others.

The fact that they were arriving unannounced suggested Paul wanted to make an appearance or couldn’t explain enough over the comm…and in his case it was probably both if he’d had the same breakthrough. Davis had ordered no word of this be transmitted out, so he didn’t know the others were going through the metamorphosis, but if it worked the same way with him, then he probably had determined it was or would happen, as well as the need for secrecy on this.

Wilson got there just as the ship was landing, with him running out the doors into the bright sunlight and having to squint against the glare as the landing legs came out and the starship touched down, filling most of the pad with its bulk, for it was far bigger than a dropship, but not so big to require a dropship to get its passengers down to the city.

When the boarding ramp lowered, Cal-com walked out first, then behind him came Paul…except he was almost the same height. That meant Paul had grown more than a foot, but he couldn’t tell much else due to the robe he was wearing, which included a hood. Cal-com had similar clothing on, but from the way both of them moved Wilson could tell Paul wasn’t fully accustomed to his new stride length, for he was bobbing a little too much with each step.

It was hardly noticeable, except to someone who knew biomechanics and them so well.

“Is it happening to all the others?” Paul asked aloud from some 30 meters away as he and Cal-com walked towards the Master Trainer.

“All of them except Kara. We got her using Essence again before it could cause havoc with her Vorch’nas. How tall are you now?”

“Seven two,” he said, walking up close enough that Wilson noticed his face beneath the hood that was shading most of it from the sun. “Kara is probably safe, since she never had the Saiyan genetics.”

“What happened to your eyes?”

Paul tilted his head down slightly to match his gaze with the now shorter Wilson, then two rings of green flared bioluminescence for a moment. “Upgrades. I’ve come back now that they’re complete, but my transformation is not all that has happened to me. I got a two for one.”

Wilson frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The Force is real. I’ve just become a Jedi, found ghost Yoda to teach me, and Star Force is back to being the little fish in the big pond. We have a lot of work to do, and I don’t want to have to explain things multiple times. So get everyone that can stay awake into the amphitheater now. We’re involved in a much bigger war than we could have imagined, and the Hadarak are only a tiny piece of it…”

www.aerkijyr.com

Point Zero

1

September 23, 154930

Solar System (Home One Kingdom)

Earth

“What happened to you?” Sara-012 asked as she walked into the Atlantis amphitheater along with a few other stragglers showing up late and getting their first view of the much larger Paul-024.

“I ate my Wheaties,” he said pithily as Sara sat down in the second row next to Erin-016, who looked like she was barely able to keep her eyes open. “I’ll explain when everyone is here. This is going to take a lot, and I don’t feel like repeating myself.”

“I apologize in advance if I puke,” Ivan-029 said, sitting down in the 8th row and deliberately not next to anyone else.

“That’s everyone that’s coming,” Wilson said as Hank-075 walked in the doorway ever so slowly, and wincing with every step. “The others are either unconscious or won’t stay awake long enough to matter. I’ve got live links to their rooms, so if they’re currently awake they’ll hear you, or they’ll have a recording to rewatch later.”

“Make sure the feed is ultra secure,” Paul said, his green/white eyes narrowing dangerously. “A lot of what I have to say can’t leak out, or there will be consequences.”

“Oh?” Jason-025 asked, stifling a yawn that he couldn’t help, though his mind was definitely registering a ‘shit level’ glance from Paul that worried him more than his best friend having stepped on a Mario mushroom and gone giganto.

Paul held up a ‘wait’ finger while Wilson moved to a side console and made some modifications to the recording and streaming system, then he turned back and nodded at Paul to proceed.

“The changes you see in me are the same that are occurring in you now,” he said, leaning forward on the dais that was a little too short for his elbows on the front end, so he draped them over the higher front and interlocked his fingers in a posture that suggested a long, but informal lecture. “I just got a head start, and mine are complete. I wasn’t going to return until they were. A lot of our alterations will be identical, others will be unique. What’s happening to us is a natural upgrade the universe keeps in rare supply, and it’s a non-Essence rush Essence occurrence. Simply put, we outgrew our old bodies, so now we’re getting the next level ones.”

“How?” Bo-065 asked.

“Our Saiyan genetics caused us to get so many experience points that they pushed us to this level. Why it didn’t occur earlier pre-Saiyan I’m not sure about, but the reason it’s happening to all of us at the same time is because it was due earlier and was put on hold. We never stopped training, and with our metabolisms kicked so high we could never truly rest. When I left with Cal-com he suggested that I become ‘small,’ and in doing so I stopped training, stopped Essence use, and mentally tried to relinquish all responsibilities to the universe and just be me, inside the confounds of my body. When that happened, all the pent up training effect kicked in and pushed me into a rather violent cascade of changes, which it seems you all are also going through.”

“Ya think?” Kerrie-057 scoffed.

Paul held up a single finger from his clasped hands. “I have information you do not, due to the fact that my pent up training effect triggered more than just this genetic rewrite. It seems I’m a little different from the rest of you with regards to how I view the universe, and that slight perspective difference allowed me to break through another barrier we didn’t know existed. It’s called the Saiolum, and is an energy field generated from biological life. I have limited access to it now, and in addition to that the fogginess my mind had been in previously has lifted. I needed a day off more than the rest of you,” he admitted.

“What can this energy field do?” Davis asked, sitting in the front row along with Wilson who had joined him right after Paul began speaking.

“A great many things. Things that make our current empire and everything we’ve discovered look pathetic. When I made my first breakthrough I didn’t know it was happening. I lost it when me and Cal-com,” he said, gesturing to the Voku sitting in the back row by himself as if he didn’t belong here in such an elite crowd, “had to deal with a situation on Ha’shavi. I slipped back into combat mode and lost my breakthrough as I numbed up to it again. When I later relaxed deep enough in a fortuitous moment, my new friend didn’t risk me losing it again and intervened. That was my first direct contact with Azoro Hikeer Mi’da’ruun of an extinct race called the Sha’kier.”

“Wait,” Megan-026 said quizzically. “Contact through this energy field?”

Paul nodded. “He no longer has a body, and his Core has been melded to the Saiolum to grant him and a few others of his race the immortality they needed to break the development plateau their civilization had reached. You see, while they discovered the Saiolum, they did not know about Essence or self-sufficiency. They were all newbs, dying off and leaving their knowledge in texts…but texts can only go so far. Azoro and the other Ju’en’xa became the leaders and repositories of knowledge and wisdom for their race, interfacing through mediaries who were open to the Saiolum and were trained to operate as conduits for them, known as Ke’lars. They’d relinquish control of their bodies and the Ju’en’xa would take control temporarily, either to offer wisdom or to do things the Ke’lars did not have the skill to do. Though that’s not what’s happening to me. I don’t have the skill or development to be a Ke’lar, and each time Azoro speaks to me it takes a physical toll on the transmitter…which is me…so our conversations are limited, though growing in length as I continue to grow.”

“Are you saying you have a Force Ghost talking to you?” Wilson asked, his jaw agape.

“Pretty much, except that Azoro was used to having an Avatar of his own. A biological body without a Core in it that he could meld to permanently. When it died he would not, for his Core was attached to the Saiolum, and then he would meld with another when available. Because his Avatars were destroyed, and all of the Ke’lars were killed, he has been able to view events but not interact with anyone. He can’t. He can see, both physicality and our active thoughts, but he cannot touch anything that hasn’t made the breakthrough to the Saiolum. So when his empire was destroyed, he was left to sit and watch his people die after he was out of the combat. Oh, and this was probably over a billion years ago, and his civilization had firm control over 28 galaxies and colonies in many others, including ours.”

Every other jaw in the room save for Cal-com’s dropped in unison, and Paul let that statement sink in until Liam-090 finally swallowed hard and spoke.

“What killed them?”

“A coalition of enemies that jumped them like pack of wolves once weakness was shown. The Hadarak were included, but not the primary force. There are huge threats lurking out there waiting to be tripped over, and boss battles that we will lose if we get that far before we’re ready. Azoro wants to help us upgrade along the lines of his civilization, but since we know things he doesn’t, the combination of the two empires’ tech trees should theoretically give us enough power to be able to defend ourselves against all the enemies he is aware of in the local galactic region…but he doesn’t know all of them, and a billion years or two is a lot of time for change. He’s been looking around since he can’t do anything else, but he can’t be everywhere at once. He’s been following us all for a long time, hoping that we’d make the breakthrough, so you guys are close, just not there yet. I showed the most promise so he tagged along with me, riding on my body across the stars and breathing the Saiolum. Where it is thick he can live forever. Where it is thin he cannot exist, and cannot go there, as if a force field prevents him. But if he is caught on a world that is being purged of all life, then he will essentially run out of air and die. So traveling on a starship is one of the riskier things he can do.”

“Seriously?” Jason asked.

“Completely.”

“Is he here now?” Davis wondered.

“I assume so, though I can’t make contact with him yet. He has to initiate it, and our communication is so limited he has to use memories I already have to limit the stress on me. Memories that he has seen, but he can’t dig out new ones without harming me, and he can’t dig them out of you period. He can only see your active thoughts, like a shadow from a cloud. He can touch the shadow, but not the cloud itself. And he’s been monitoring us for long enough he knows our empire’s secrets better than any other outsider, though he doesn’t know everything, because there’s a lot we don’t actively think about that we have stuffed away in memory.”

“Friend or frenemy?” Kara-317 asked.

“I think a friend. He hasn’t been able to talk to anyone for a billion years, and I’m his only link to the universe. The fate of the other Ju’en’xa is unknown, and without knowing where to look he can’t find them. Some may be alive, but he’s doubtful they all are, or they would have found each other by now. But 28 galaxies plus colonial galaxies is a lot of ground to cover, and their instant communication links were cut when their Avatar bodies were destroyed.”

“Instant?” Davis said before the others could even process the thought, though to be fair they were all physically hindered and he wasn’t, but his mind was racing faster for other reasons.

“Yes. Distance diminishes connection, but there is no lag in the Saiolum. They could communicate from person to person across galaxies in a limited fashion instantaneously after first making physical contact with the person to establish the Saiolum link. Without the Saiolum, there was no way they could have risen as far as they did, and the fact that they were able to do so without self-sufficiency or Essence…but especially self-sufficiency…should indicate how powerful the Saiolum is when its applications are explored, though they’re pretty much non-combat applications. No Force lifting of rocks, but the rest of the Star Wars Lore matches up fairly close.”

“And they got their asses kicked?” Enrico-094 pointed out.

“Yeah. That’s why we’re not going to go beyond our galaxy in the near future. Not even on scouting missions. We’re turtling up here, dealing with the Hadarak, and cocooning ourselves in heavy defense mode as we transform into a higher power. If we don’t, or we move too soon, we’ll attract unwanted attention that we can’t handle. As it is, we’ll attract some anyway that will come to us, and more so Saiolum-related than Hadarak-beating. So we’re not safe in this galaxy, and some of the mega threats have a presence here too, but not all are what they once were, and we’ve already met one. The Chixzon are a fragment of another fallen empire, one that has lost much of its power, but the limited legacy they hold onto is a testament to how much they lost…and they don’t even know it. They are a fragment of an enemy of the Sha’kier who helped defeat them, but in the process the Ni’o’zon’chi were ended and the survivors scattered. Apparently some lived long enough to form the Chixzon and use the shards of their former knowledge to try and wrest control of this galaxy.”

“Azoro has been around a billion years?” Morgan-063 asked. “And hasn’t been able to speak with anyone that entire time? Only watch and observe with impunity?”

“Yes.”

“Now my head is really hurting,” she said, rubbing her temple.

“It’s a lot to process, and I’m only learning tidbits. I get exhausted on short conversations, and he can’t share any of his own memories until I develop a lot further.”

“Can he harm you?”

“He could kill me easily now that I’ve made the breakthrough, but he can’t touch anyone who hasn’t. He’s promised to teach me how to defend myself against such an attack in time, but development is going to be slow. He helped me stabilize my second breakthrough by pushing on the connection and essentially boring out a hole that wouldn’t close again. That, combined with the physical changes you are all going through, meant I had one hell of a vacation blackout wise.”

“What does Azoro want from us?” Davis asked.

“Payback, someone to talk to, a civilization worthy enough for him to bestow the knowledge that he is pointlessly carrying since his own race is gone. He said he watched the survivors fragment and devolve until they were wiped away into the dustbin of history. There are none left for him to find and teach even with our help. But our Lightside philosophy is to his liking, and his race is described more as builders than warriors…which is one reason I suspect they were defeated. Just my suspicion there. We haven’t gotten into any of that history yet. Too much other vital stuff to cover in a few minutes of conversation every few weeks.”

“So you barely know anything about him?” Jason pushed.

“He didn’t waste time with smalltalk, and he already can read my thoughts and has been watching all of us long enough to know the subject matter. It’s been brief, but very informative. And a lot of our conversations have involved my current transformation. He didn’t know about Essence back in the day, but he’s added a lot of knowledge since then, so he’s been helpful. Point number one is to stop pressing and just let the transformation play out. No training. Just back off and let it run its course. I got scolded a few times on that, but he was right. And my metabolism has now fully stabilized so I have the option of resting as much as I want. Yours should adapt the same way due to the same need.”

“And your growth?” Kara asked.

“We ran out of room for more psionics long ago, so I guess the universe finally said ‘enough, you’re getting bigger’ whether we like it or not. You’ll all probably end up a similar size. As for my other changes, I can now manufacture ambrosia internally at a far higher efficiency rate than our industry allows. I have zoom vision and bioluminescent eye rings which act as a flashlight in total darkness. I can also see a bit more spectrum, including gamma. I have a Sav-like brain enhancement that is actually a new organ within my brain. My skin has become color sensitive, in that it will respond to the environment or my emotions with armor shifts. I can’t control it, it’s automatic,” he said, pulling up one of his sleeves to show a mildly blue arm that looked normal with a little pigment added. “This is sedentary state, while stress turns me red, speed green, and taking hits makes me turn brown. There are probably more, but I haven’t been able to do much training and am taking my progression very slowly. Each color is adaptive, similar to how Vorlon technology remembered taking weapon hits and made itself more resistive to each one. My skin now does the same.”

“So if we shoot you…?” Jason asked.

“Gonna try that later,” Paul said honestly. “I’ve also got some funky alterations to my Saiyan mode I haven’t yet explored. It’s much more elastic, but beyond that I’ll have to get back to you. Muscle cell density has increased beyond Humanly possible, bone structure enhanced to the point of being Spartans without the medical implants. I keep getting telepathic pings as if I need to connect with people who aren’t there, so we may have a hive mind like thing going above and beyond what we had before. I’ll have to wait until you guys catch up to explore that,” he said, seeing Erin’s head fall back as she lost consciousness.

“Damn,” Sara said, looping her arm around Erin’s and pulling her towards her so her head could rest on Sara’s shoulder rather than hang back at an odd angle.

“I could comment on that being how boring I am, but I went through the same stuff, so I understand,” Paul said as he glanced out at the others, seeing some barely hanging on. “I also have developed an additional organ that neither I nor Azoro know the function of that encases my spine. It’s not armor, and so far it doesn’t seem to be doing anything, but the transitional flux is gone, so I don’t know about it. Let’s see, I also got upgrades to all of my psionic tissue except bioplasma. That actually got removed somehow, but my Bra’hem is still here and also upgraded.”

“Rensiek?” Arron-010 asked.

“Still here and boosted, so I don’t understand the bioplasma thing. My left arm evened out in weight as it added additional bioshield nodules, most of which are currently inert. There is also compacted genetic coding of a type our instruments can’t fully process, so I think we’re at the very beginning of the development of our new race. And yes, I can reproduce. My blocks have been erased, though I don’t know how compatible I am with Human or Saiyan right now. Something else to look into.”

“Wait…” Morgan said suspiciously.

“Do you want more advanced races in Star Force, or to stick with the weaker ones we’ve already upgraded as we can?” Paul challenged. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, and the answer for right now is hell no. But down the road, once we get a handle on this, I think we have to. We’re going to need more strength in the empire, and as it stands, I’m the most advanced race we have. We’ve just leapt past the Knight races, despite the size difference. And we know how to train others to figure out who is worthy and who isn’t, but the starting Avatar has always been a limiting factor. The universe just gave us this potential, and we’re going to use it eventually. Probably not a hybrid with Humans, unless there’s an advantage there I don’t see, but as long as one of the girls makes the full transition…which I assume all of us will…then we can use surrogates and craft the first maturia class of Furyans…

2

“I don’t get the name,” Morgan said. “Unless you’ve developed a Hulk-like repressed anger?”

“Not at all,” Paul said calmly. “It’s about how we got here. We weren’t timid. We weren’t patient. We weren’t slow to act. We hammered, over and over again, more than our Saiyan metabolism required of us. Can any of you say you did the minimal required to sustain it? Anybody?”

No one answered, so Paul nodded. “Yeah, didn’t think so. When it comes to training and advancement, we’re relentless, and in this case it was actually holding back our transformation. We may not have started out this way from our default Human genome, but I’ve now got a body that matches me more than I could ever have hoped possible. And if we reproduce, some of that, hopefully a lot of that, will carry over.”

“In a naval war…” Jason postulated.

“It’s still the bigger ship that wins,” Paul agreed. “But what makes the Kiritak better workers? What makes the Bsidd more resilient? What makes the Dosogo faster? The Oso’lon more intelligent? It’s the base avatar each race begins with. It’s about the starting point, not the end result, but can anyone say that an Irondel Maverick can stand a chance against a Mainline Human commando in hand to hand?”

“Well, there were a few times…” Kai-054 noted.

“That didn’t involve abject stupidity,” Paul amended.

“Never say never.”

“The point is, we work with what we’ve got. Both in terms of races and technology. We can make some advancements, and do a lot of innovative things, but a more advanced race is always going to tip the power scales in ways you might not recognize at first.”

“He’s right,” Wilson agreed. “I’ve been considering this possibility for a while. Putting too much power into an unworthy individual’s hands has always been our greatest concern, but we’ve chipped away at that starting with the Protovic and then the Knight races.”

“The Elves didn’t turn out so well,” Greg-073 reminded them.

“That was our experiment with the telepathic community, and for some of them it did work well…as a barrier they had to overcome to discover their individuality…but in general it was a failure because we need people starting off as individuals as much as possible. The Knight races have spent so much time as a telepathic society that walking it back fully isn’t possible without losing a lot of their strengths, but we have been trimming it down,” Wilson said, glancing at Davis.

“To a point,” the Director agreed. “But we cannot reproduce Archons.”

“No we can’t,” Paul agreed, “and I’m not saying we will. But we can give a lot of people better Avatars to begin life in. And we’re going to need as much strength as we can get for what’s coming. I’ve only got tidbits of information, but I’m starting to see the writing on the wall. Anyone who rises to a certain level of power is targeted and destroyed by those lesser than them, out of fear or prejudice of some sort. Azoro mentioned a ‘natural order’ that many of the other powers believe in. It’s about the only thing they have in common, and a race exceeding their natural state carried a death sentence from those whose natural state is more advanced and they want to stay at the top of the totem pole without climbing it any higher.”

“Where are they?” Jason asked.

“Scattered. Total galactic dominion is rare, apparently, and also frowned upon for a variety of reasons. I get the feeling their egos need other people suffering in squalor to make themselves feel superior, so they won’t help their neighbors and insist the universe be left to adapt ‘naturally’ all the while they will intervene when something occurs they don’t like. The Sha’kier, I’m told, were as close to a lightside empire as I’ve seen, though not all the way. Their focus was on building, and builders do not sit by and let problems exist. They craft solutions and help their neighbors. This is why they expanded out to fully claim 28 galaxies enroute to more. Not for conquest, but for stability. Stability and the natural order are not compatible, I’m told.”

“Where do the Hadarak fit in? And the Apocalypse Monsters?” Davis asked.

“Both players in the game, neither of which is ‘natural.’ Each has weaknesses, and a role to play…which is why the Hadarak do not go to certain galaxies, or fully conquer them. Too much power in any one player’s hands causes the others to gang up on them. Any of them.”

“And the Neofan?”

“JV team and not in the loop, most likely. But there are other threats besides the thugs. A lot of them. I’m amazed the Sha’kier made it as far as they did without self-sufficiency, but what they accomplished makes us look like newbs on the galactic scale. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, but that said, we are doing it better than they did and I think Azoro realizes that. He wants to help us avoid their mistakes, as well as seeing his knowledge and history put to full use and not a watered down version of what went before. He was meant to help his race continually rise to new heights and overcome the ‘natural order’ that they believed was meant to hold everyone back by erasing experience with each generation. And the funny thing is, they never encountered any race that was obviously self-sufficient. Just some that were very long lived.”

“Are you aware that our genetics are altering into an alignment that vaguely mimics the Zak’de’ron?” Jack-020 asked.

Paul’s eyes narrowed. “I was not.”

“We learned of self-sufficiency from the V’kit’no’sat, who got it from the Zak’de’ron. Do we know of any other source in this galaxy of that knowledge?”

“Hard to say, since the V’kit’no’sat were pretty much dominance litter bugs that didn’t mind showing off for others. It’d be hard to track another source that didn’t have contact with them.”

“I know of three,” Davis offered, “all in the Rim and isolated. Their biologies were near to it naturally, so they didn’t have far to go. And when they did, they stopped reproducing almost entirely and attained a neutral to slightly growing population. None of them sought heavy expansion.”

“And here we are teaching everyone how to do it,” Kerrie said ominously. “A violation of the natural order?”

“Bingo,” Paul confirmed. “We’re small fries now, in a fringe galaxy, and not really old enough for it to matter. But give us a few billion years and imagine the ‘damage’ that could be done.”

“Wait,” Ian-033 interjected. “Are you saying these other powers are not self-sufficient?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t come up in the conversations yet, but I get the feeling they’re more of the ‘do as I say, not as I do’ type.”

“And the Apocalypse Monsters? Are they immortal?”

“They are weak when you know where to hit them. I don’t have a firm grasp on the dynamics of their existence, but they retreat into the deep void for a reason, and that reason is fear. They come here to feed, then leave and enter a type of hibernation until their feeding grounds are ripe enough to warrant the risk of coming back.”

“They’re Wraith?” Morgan asked.

“Who are somehow merged with the Saiolum in a way that Azoro doesn’t understand either. The only way he could investigate is to hitch a ride on one of their few scouts all the way out there, then he’d be trapped until he could hitchhike back.”

“Can they hurt him?”

“He seemed to suggest no, but I didn’t explore that. They can affect the physical and he can’t, so I don’t think he knows for sure and that’s another reason he stays away.”

“What sort of growing do we need to do, other than physically?” Davis asked.

“Blind spots. Things we don’t know exist, and don’t know how to defend against, or to use. The Saiolum is one such blind spot, but there are others, including many technologies that will bypass our shields and armor. We have to harden our technology, our planets, and our empire before we can start poking around at what lays beyond…but be warned, the Sha’kier were not destroyed by known enemies. It was the ones that came out of the frontier that hit them the hardest. Azoro knows them now, but only to a certain extent. He warns that there will always be an unknown frontier that you cannot predict, no matter how far you search. This is the primary reason they pushed their empire so far, to give them galaxies to retreat to in case some fell to an unknown enemy. But they had no idea what was in store for them, and their expansion was what drew their downfall.”

“Challenge accepted,” Morgan said calmly.

“Azoro is going to give us his cheat sheet, and he’s promised it’s a massive one, but one thing seems to be clear. Dominion of the playing field is going to draw the giants to come and stomp you, for they like the galaxies to be primitive and no threat to them as they roam or turtle up where they like. They will stop us from helping others in order to preserve this status quo, so when we make the move to expand beyond this galaxy, we have to be ready to face them before we catch their full attention. This is the single most important point I have to make. We have an advantage in Azoro, plus our own badassness. But if we rush, we’ll be discovered and targeted. If they learn that Azoro exists and is helping us, expect immediate deletion of our entire civilization and anyone who has ever had contact with us, or even heard of us.”

“He’s that much of a threat?” Davis asked.

“Knowledge is power, when given the time necessary to forge it into a weapon. They will not allow such time.”

“Who exactly are they?”

“He won’t give me a list of names, for it won’t matter unless we come into contact with them. Any new contacts, races or empires, he wants me to be made aware of so he can filter them. If something crosses our path that we should worry about, he’ll let us know.”

“Holding back information?”

“As would I,” Paul agreed. “The Saiolum itself is massive and I’m just playing around in it. He also wants to make sure Star Force stays Star Force, for we would not be able to operate the way the Sha’kier did. So he has to feed us little bits and we have to take what’s useful and incorporate it while discarding the rest. And in that light, doing it slowly is better…especially when we won’t understand most of it.”

“What’s he given you so far?” Jason asked.

“Other than help with my transition and cementing my link to the Saiolum, he’s given me so many ideas for empire upgrades I could stay here days talking about them. Not stuff he came up with, mostly, but spinoffs that I had never considered before. Most of it is Saiolum-related, and until Wilson figures out how to get others across the barrier it won’t be useful.”

“Such as?” Megan pushed.

“Such as having an individual aboard a ship or station that can scan for lifeforms through their displacement in the Saiolum currents, regardless of whether they’re cloaked or not. There’s no way to hide against such a scan unless you are aware of the Saiolum. Those civilizations that are not will be completely blindsided by another’s ability to track them wherever they go, and mass doesn’t matter. You can hide inside a planet and still be perfectly visible if it’s just a big, dead rock.”

“So we’ll need an army of personnel with Saiolum skills?” Davis suggested.

“Yes,” Paul confirmed. “And that will take a great deal of time to develop and train, for our physiology is not well suited to it, though mine now is since my upgrade occurred during my breakthrough. The rest of you may not be as close after you finish, but as long as we have my genetics the Furyans should be able to produce a lot of Saiolum-sensitive individuals whereas recruiting them out of other races would be far more difficult.”

“How difficult?” Wilson asked.

“I don’t have a clear sense of it, so just consider it like a breakthrough to Essence without mechanical assistance…though there are advanced Sha’kier rituals and devices to assist with such things. But we have to advance to that point before we can make use of them, so my future path is remarkably clear. I’m going to learn as much as I can from Azoro and explore the mysteries of the Force to share with the rest of you, as well as act as a conduit for his knowledge in other matters, particularly technology that we haven’t encountered yet.”

“Onboard the Excalibur?” Jason asked.

Paul shook his head. “No. My time there is over, for the most part. When the big battles come I’ll be there, but my highest value is no longer naval. It’s Jedi,” he said with an ironic smile.

“About time,” Jason said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back as Jack suddenly slumped over and blacked out, with Jason telekinetically pulling him up into a better resting position. “Should have given us reclining chairs, Sean.”

“An obvious oversight,” the Director said deadpan. “What can you currently do with this Saiolum?”

“Observe,” Paul said, standing up and walking to the left of the podium as he reached both arms up forward like two horizontal poles…that he then used as leverage points to raise himself into an armstand…while his arms were on nothing but thin air.

“What exactly are you doing?” Wilson asked.

“No Yen’mer, no psionics or Essence at all. I’m gripping the Saiolum in my arms and using it as leverage to hold myself up,” he said, tilting back over again. “It burns a bit when I do it, but it’s because I’m new and raw, but I’m acclimating. In this same way Azoro can cling to me or others and let them drag him across the galaxy…or he can grip the Saiolum and propel himself at much slower speed, though there are many currents, and if you catch the right ones you can go a lot faster. But starships are still the best way to get around, and as long as the crew onboard are living he can ride with them. He can latch onto a drone, but only as long as the drone stays in a sufficiently dense Saiolum area. If not he’ll be peeled off when the density drops too low, such as in between star systems, or sometimes planets if the system isn’t sufficiently populated.”

“Nice trick,” Morgan commented.

“A lot more will come with time,” Paul promised. “But right now I need you to leave this to me to explore. I don’t know how to get you across the threshold, and frankly I don’t want you trying. Our new transformations are what you need to dig into, and hopefully we’ll each have something unique to add to the gene pool later. We need to own this, and be ‘we’ I mean mostly you guys, because I’m doing double duty here, as will Wilson. There are a lot more second gen out there that are probably in the same boat we are, and if they relax enough they may also start to transform. We need to get this nailed down before they accidentally do…which is why we’re not going to tell them about it. Got that, Kara?”

“My lips are sealed,” she promised. “But what about me?”

“You never went Saiyan, but your body has topped out. I don’t know if that’ll be enough.”

“What about this?” she said, holding up her arm so her wrist jewel could be seen.

Paul frowned. “Right. I don’t know about that. It may try to rewrite you to your original code, or maybe the transformation will rid you of the sabotage genetics. It took away my bioplasma, so it doesn’t seem to only make additions.”

“You think I should try?”

“Not today, but down the road, I would. Just let us figure out what this is first.”

“Deal. Now to the most important question. Did you grow a second dick?”

Everyone who wasn’t close to unconsciousness snickered or laughed out loud, including Davis, but not Wilson. He glanced back in her direction with an unimpressed look on his face, but she ignored him as she stared at Paul’s lower section.

“Slightly larger, but still just one. Though my balls got tucked a bit. Guess they didn’t need to get any larger, so I ended up more streamlined.”

“Show please,” Kerrie asked.

Paul didn’t hesitate, and pulled down his pants to show them, with his slightly blue skin making him look even more odd than his altered bone structure did.

“What happened to your hips?” Greg asked.

“I got some nips and tucks all over the place,” he said, twisting to the side for a better view as Kerrie swirled her finger in the air.

“Just take it all off,” Kara urged.

“Fine,” Paul said, realizing that was best, though as he did so and the air hit his body, his skin went from slightly blue to streaks of hazy yellow.

“Yellow means you’re turned on?” Sara guessed.

Paul frowned. “No. I’m not sure what this is. Maybe vulnerable.”

“I can see the organ on your spine,” Wilson commented as a slight bump along either side was visible. “Plus your entire skeleton looks to be configured for more agility and less brute lifting.”

“All that running, probably,” Jason added. “No Saroto’kanse’vam?”

“Nope,” Paul confirmed as he half turned again.

“And you’re sure you’re finished transforming?” Morgan asked.

“Quite sure.”

“Where are your nipples?” Kara asked.

“Lost them with my bioplasma and body hair. I don’t have any more hair follicles except on my head and in my nose. Has something to do with the skin alteration as much as them being deactivated, or so I assume.”

Morgan stood up in the 4th row and raised one of her arms at Paul. “Mind a little test?”

“You might black out,” Wilson warned her.

“I’ll risk it if he will,” she said, looking at Paul.

“Go ahead,” he said, taking up a slight defensive stance as she threw a not so small Jumat blast at him. He took it on his body without any shielding, and it pushed him back a step…and as it did so a splash of brown shot out across his body around the impact site, but it didn’t make it to his extremities before the blue quickly reasserted itself.

“Ooo, my turn next,” Kara said excitedly, though she remained seated.

Morgan slumped back into her seat, though she remained awake. “Interesting. What does it feel like?”

“A little prickly, but otherwise all the colors feel normal.”

“Riley can change his on command, and they stay put,” Jason added. “So I’m guessing it’s not the same thing.”

“He went chameleon?” Paul asked.

“Sort of, yeah. Takes a few hours to process.”

“Hopefully there will be a lot more individual abilities popping up,” he said as he picked up his clothes and held them up as if asking if he could put them back on…only to have Kerrie telekinetically snatch them out of the air and pull them over to her where she wrapped her arms around them firmly.

“You’re fine as is,” she said with a smirk. “Except you do look a little clumsy.”

“I feel clumsy. The fitness I had before got washed away and I’m starting from scratch unfortunately…but it seems this new body was designed off my original fitness, so its base level is higher in most cases than my max before, so I’m sort of ok with it. Don’t know if I could take a second gen Saiyan right now or not. My timing is all off.”

“Not that much,” Cal-com said from the back where everyone had forgotten he was. “But his potential for growth is massive. What he has lost is a little speed due to his new mass.”

“Probably right,” Paul said, remembering something. “And you guys need to start overeating now, not later. I made that mistake and it made things…well, let’s say more ouchy than they had to be. I hit a point where I needed a lot of food for the size upgrade, and you need to take in more than you think, because it’s going to happen super fast. Almost Kich’a’kat fast. So be ready to pig out.”

“Not an option,” Ivan warned. “I can’t keep much down as it is.”

“That should pass…I think. Might be we’re all going to process this differently…”

3

“I still don’t see this massive empire transition you’re inferring,” Jason said three hours later into the discussion, with now 14 of the trailblazers unconscious in their chairs, including Kerrie, whom Paul had stolen his clothes back from as soon as she’d blacked out. “Some tweaks here and there, sure. Maybe it’s just my fragged mind, but I don’t see it.”

“I don’t have a master plan to lay out,” Paul said, understandingly. “It’s more a sense of potential. Put it this way…one of the reasons the V’kit’no’sat used the Zen’zat so much was because of their versatility. Bipeds are simply better multi-taskers than quadrupeds, at least the bigger ones. They have their niche, but the quadrupeds are so bulky there is a lot they can’t do. And our Esquires serve the same role for the Knight races. It’s those Knight races that are our greatest strength, but they’re also limited. If we can shift the center of the empire’s capabilities to a race that has the strength, flexibility, and intelligence to surpass the others, then the quadrupeds’ skills can really shine as they can become specialists. That’s the primary shift I see, but I can feel the potential for a lot more yet to be developed or discovered.”

“You’re still talking a bunch of newbs here. And we have no idea how this will shake out.”

“Diversity is not our strength,” Paul emphasized. “The weaker races contribute where they can, but in a lot of cases they have to be protected more than they can help, and when they help it’s more in non-combat roles. If we get hit everyone at once, when we can’t move our elite combat units around to shield the weaker planets, how many and how well are they going to stand on their own?”

“The Band-Aid problem,” Greg said, blinking heavily as he was trying to stave off his own blackout. This conversation was too important to put off until later, and they all felt the same way, despite the fact that a day or two wasn’t going to change much…but patience was a skill of the Archons, not an attribute.

“Exactly,” Paul agreed, referencing an old problem that had the empire being held together by a few strong points and units while most of their territory was shielded by them and unable to stand well on its own. Threat of reprisal scared off many enemies, but the actual strength of Star Force was, if seen on a galactic map, was a patchwork of strength and weakness. Outsiders didn’t realize that, for most of them didn’t have the power to assault even one of the weaker worlds, but take a mirror image empire and throw it at them and Star Force’s weak spots would show, for there was no way a planet of Irondel could fight hand to hand with an invading force of Oso’lon. Mechs were their only hope, and could be effective, but the limitations of their race would always be an issue.

The Bsidd and Paladin were much better off, but individuality is what they lacked, along with intelligence, as a starting point. The experienced ones were damn valuable and wise at this point, but it was the starting point that was the concern, for every population expansion didn’t start with veterans. It started with newbs, and what those newbs had to work with was critical when your civilization was placed under stress. Peace had a way of covering up the cracks and making you look impregnable even when that was far from the truth.

“So your kids are going to become the new glue for the empire?” Kara asked from her new seat on the edge of the elevated stage to the right of Paul, who was also now sitting on the edge, after she’d moved there when they’d done some shuffling to better accommodate the sleepers.

“Name something we can’t do.”

“Swim well,” Jason quipped.

“But we can swim decent with equipment. Can any other race master all areas as well as we can?”

“I could give you a list,” Davis added, “but they’re all lacking the same thing. Temerity. And the ones who do have it usually have too much, or it’s skewed in some fashion. If we can craft a race even remotely like the Archons, it will be an asset. How much I can’t say, but I think I can see where Paul is heading with this. No reproduction allowed?”

Paul nodded. “We’ll deactivate at birth, and only if they achieve great enough accomplishments will they be added to the gene pool. No civilian birth base.”

“You’re talking some medical intervention then,” Morgan said, “because there’s no way I can produce that many eggs, even if you don’t have the same sperm limitation.”

“A little cloning of the eggs isn’t hard, but if we are able to pass on some of our traits, do we want them watered down by a generation or two of slackers?”

“We’ve never tried anything like that,” Wilson said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Paladin genetics are set from a base template, and they can’t even reproduce otherwise if they wanted. Do you plan to use the Clans?”

“Yes. Obviously this is contingent on all of us making the transition, but with 88 males and 12 females we can get a different genetic strain for each Clan and keep it that way. And if we end up with some different abilities, I don’t think we should mix and match everything at the get go. There are too many variables in play already. So I recommend we each find a pairing we like and stick with it as we rework our Clans into more of a Battletech Clan with the non-Furyans eventually becoming sidekicks…though at first they’ll be the teachers and elders.”

“I like it,” Carlo-062 said. “But how much are you willing to bet our future on this new race?”

“More than I would on genetically altering existing ones, but it always comes down to the individuals in the bodies. We know how to find and train them. Consider this just better starting equipment.”

“Psionic deactivation if they want to go civilian?” Jason asked.

“We’ve already learned where to put that line for the Knight races. We have the experience molding and troubleshooting other races, but do we have a primary in the empire?”

“Do we need one?” Carlo asked.

“That question isn’t do we need one,” Morgan said evenly, “but does the empire need one? We are the glue that’s been holding everything together, and I don’t mean Humans. I mean Archons and Mavericks.”

“Humans were surpassed a long time ago,” Davis casually noted. “And while we could deactivate all reproduction in the weaker races while allowing the stronger, perhaps even one superior race, to reproduce in order to strengthen the empire in the distant future, my instincts say no…though there is a caveat. We can’t get too bottom heavy, and right now we are if we come up against a superior opponent that can target our vulnerabilities better than the Hadarak. They’re a bulldozer, but an assassin-minded assault could pick us apart in many ways you are not even aware of. Technology and training can accomplish much, but the biological starting point at birth isn’t something that can be ignored.”

“If we knew everyone was randomly inserted into an avatar at birth, then stopping reproduction in the weaker races would be helping them out more than ourselves,” Morgan noted. “Anyone remember the Vicar-ni-shi?”

“No,” Devan-000 said.

“They are nearly extinct now. Only a few thousand left in one of our Ward colonies. Nasty temperament, poison that would kill you in seconds. Their entire mental makeup was so messed up we decided to stop any reproduction and try to help the individuals as much as we could, but we weren’t going to let any more be born. It wasn’t fair to them to start out in such a darkside-tilted body.”

“No race can do everything,” Davis reminded them. “But we do need a glue to hold the others together, more than just our philosophy and technology. I’d wager hardly anyone knows all the different races we have in the empire, including those in this room. I do, and we keep adding more every decade as we discover them. Human is a race they all know. Humans are the psychological glue for the identity of the empire, and where you see a Human you see Star Force. But Humans are not the best genetic template we have. The Knight races are. And we hardly see any problems with them. Their slackers make the average Human look lazy, and it’s not because the individuals inside are better. It’s because their default programming is better.”

“Limiting reproduction is wise,” Wilson said, “but eliminating it is folly. We could be throwing away advantages that will occur down the road in some of the weaker races as they advance. We need quadrupeds for a lot of things, and avians, and aquatics, etc. But while they can help each other as a team to cover each other’s weaknesses, the empire needs a spine to which everything else can attach. A spine that may not be the best in everything, but a spine that has no weaknesses to exploit. A spine of steal that will support the specialists in the empire and let their best attributes shine. If we split up by races, as we have on many planets, we can be blindsided. The Zen’zat were small, but could they ever be blindsided? We need a central race, one who is dependable and resilient, and right now we do not have one.”

“We need a ubiquitous one,” Jason said, then raised a finger as his eyes began to roll. “Talk to you later.”

He slumped back in his chair intentionally so his head was supported, then he too passed out, unable to stave off the next upgrade any longer.

“Ubiquitous is the right word,” Wilson said, looking at Davis. “And if we do expand to other galaxies at some point, we need a control rod.”

“Way ahead of you on that problem,” the Director said, also leaning back in his chair, but only to get in a more relaxed position, for along with Kara and Cal-com, he was not at risk of blacking out. “Training is only so good by remote. Some things you need to interact with others to learn, and if we expand too far we could end up with the telephone distortion of what the lightside actually is, and we cannot allow that.”

“Telephone?” Paul asked.

“Old game, before your time. Tell one person a word only once, then they tell the next and it continues on down the line. By the end the word that is spoken is usually not the word that began it, because of mishearings down the chain of succession. We’ve prevented most of that with the use of recordings and standards, but we cannot let Star Force be watered down into a symbol with no substance, and every new race and planet we annex that is exactly what happens. We manage because there are other planets firmly Star Force, and by osmosis the new ones learn over time what cannot be learned through their indoctrination training. Human is what Star Force is, and other races have assimilated to. But what if we have a galaxy with no Humans in it, and the new races have to pattern off the Bsidd or Calavari?”

“It gets watered down,” Paul said, seeing the problem. “Maturias should fix most of that, but if you’re integrating them into an existing population there’s going to be a melt factor involved.”

“Not just that,” Davis corrected, “but each race has its own proclivities. Will avians go into the water to save aquatics? Can aquatics take to the air to help avians? Will races that have little empathy really embrace the lightside, or will the overly aggressive ones pull back enough to not squash all the lessers in their path? Humans are the control rod, and as you know, our Human population is rather pathetic despite all the improvements made over time. From them we pull individuals that become the spine of the empire, but if we’re going to have a large enough spine to support far larger expansions, we need to skew the odds in our favor more than you realize.”

“If it works the way you hope,” Morgan cautioned.

“If I’m disappointed what is the downside? Do we have an Elf problem?”

“Not since you stopped their reproduction too.”

“And those that are still alive we helped teach them to be more individualistic. We betrayed no one.”

“But we’re still responsible for the Elves being Elves,” Morgan argued. “It was our mistake.”

“Do you want to randomly take what the universe throws at us? Or do you want to try and do better than that?”

“It’s not our fault if we don’t mess it up.”

“That doesn’t help the people in those messed up avatars,” Davis lectured. “They’re still stuck, and while I used to share your caution, I’m sick of the universe screwing people over in its massive version of the Hunger Games. I’ve been trying to fight the game itself, and these new upgrades…if they are derived from the customizations you have all done to your own bodies…should be better than anything the universe will provide. We’re not going darkside on this, so what are you concerned about?”

“We don’t have an instruction manual,” she answered pithily.

Paul looked at her with an ironic eyebrow raise.

“Yes, yes I know,” Morgan deflected. “We don’t use them anyway. I’m just used to the universe causing the damage and us helping to improve people’s lives. I don’t like the idea that we might be the one causing the damage to helpless newbs.”

“We’re not talking about altering the genetics,” Paul reminded her. “Just regular reproduction minus the sex.”

“But what if the newbs can’t handle our level of…fury? What if our avatars are too advanced and we cause damage that way? You said before that legends would have a person come back changed and then they would mate with a regular to produce enhanced offspring. That had to water down the power level mightily. You’re not talking about that here. You’re wanting two enhanced people to reproduce a fully enhanced offspring. Might that be a source of trouble?”

“No,” Wilson said firmly, shocking everyone still awake. “Not a problem at all. In fact it’s more of a blessing…assuming you know how to train properly. The other Master Trainers and I can handle it. Don’t worry about that.”

“Why are you so sure?” Morgan asked.

“You guys didn’t become Archons on your own,” he reminded them. “I did a lot of pushing, as did the Black Knight. I know what people need in order to grow, and I’ve done it with more races than I can count. It won’t be a problem. I promise you that.”

Morgan put a hand on her head. “Maybe I’m just loopy, but it still worries me. Can we wait on the breeding stuff until we all get clear heads?”

“We’re talking decades from now, Morgan,” Paul reminded her.

“Right,” she said. “Sorry, that was stupid. My head feels so tight I can’t think straight. I’m going back to my bed,” she said, standing and walking out of her row as others moved out of the way, though she didn’t make it very far out the door when a soft ‘thud’ was heard just down the hallway.

“Like I said, Furyans,” Paul reiterated. “We never know when to stop pushing and just sit still, but that’s what we have to do now. We’re not taking any actions with race crafting until after we’re through this and see what we have to work with, though we’ll continue brainstorming throughout. I’ll grab Morgan, those of you strong enough get the others and everyone head back to bed. You can do your thinking there and we can collaborate via message board. But the key is to rest and let this happen, and eat a lot,” he said, hopping off the platform and walking past the others.

“Paul, I want you and Wilson in my office later today,” Davis said, pointing his finger towards the back of the amphitheater. “But I want you there now.”

Cal-com stood up when he realized he was the one being pointed out. “As you wish, Director.”

“Unlike the rest of you, I still have the Zak’de’ron removal to coordinate. Originally I wanted you involved, but not now. The rest of us ‘normals’ will handle it. You guys just chill out.”

“And me?” Kara asked.

“Keep using Essence and training. We don’t want you transforming and having your siphon silenced.”

Kara cringed. “No. Definitely not. You think it would?”

“Until we know why Paul lost some stuff, and how your Vorch’nas would react, and even if you are able to since you didn’t go Saiyan…too many variables right now, and we’ve got a lot to work on. If you can change, delay it indefinitely. Please.”

“No problem. You want help with the Zak’de’ron angle?” she asked as the room cleared with Cal-com waiting at the exit for Davis.

“No. I want you to stick with Paul and vet him inside and out. If there’s any hint of manipulation by this Azoro, find it.”

“And if he can remote control his body, I’m the only one who has a chance of stopping him now that he’s buffed up?”

“I hope it’s not that bad, but I want you with him even if everything is fine. He’s gone through a lot of change, and the others aren’t in a position to help much right now. Just make sure Paul is on solid footing. If he is the key to our future, we can’t afford any newb mistakes.”

“Paul is hardly a newb, even in an upgraded body.”

“Did you see how he walked out?”

“A little wobbly.”

“It’s not his same body, Kara. It’s a new one built off the old. Everything is out of sync physically. Care to guess how he is mentally?”

“Right. I get to be his stabilizing girlfriend,” she said, heading out.

“Is that a complaint?” Davis asked to her back.

Kara glanced over her shoulder but continued to walk. “Depends how much training time I lose…”

4

April 29, 154931

Black Widow System (Home One Kingdom)

Low Stellar Orbit

Menchi was the Kiritak overseer of a Star Forge-class mining station, though not one of the larger ones. His was a Mark 219, meaning it was used primarily as a refueling outpost. It would draw material up out of the red/orange star that occupied half of the sky outside and convert it into reactor fuel for warships and starships, but not for civilian consumption.

There were a few tankers that would show up here occasionally, but mostly it was individual ships passing through to refill their reserves, most of which would last 3 years, even under heavy travel. Many ships would not need refill for more than a decade, so a stop by a refueling station was a rarity for starship captains.

Despite being in friendly territory, a Sentinel defense station had been paired with the Star Forge, given the fact that it was designed to ward off the star’s relentless burning and not enemy attack. The Sentinel was higher up in orbit, outside the star’s atmosphere, while the Star Forge was down in it, making the horizon glow and leaving even a hazy light when looking away from the star. Down here there weren’t many enemies that could reach them for attack, and the most direct assault would be from above…which was where the Sentinel was sitting.

Star Force starships could brave the star’s burn for short periods of time, so they had no trouble coming down to the Star Forge and coming in close enough to dock behind the shield umbrella that protected the station and provided it with most of its power like a giant invisible solar panel. Menchi always went in person to see each ship arriving for fuel, and today was no exception, despite it being a very small scout craft.

They needed fuel too, and more often than the big ships that sat in orbit waiting for a mission, and typically captains would come onboard during the refueling, given the fact that once in space you had very little personal contact with others beyond your own crew. Virtual communications could make it almost feel the same using solid holograms, but reality could never be fully copied, and Menchi liked getting to know more and more members of the grand Star Force fleet, as well as seeing some familiar faces come back again years later.

That wasn’t his job, but it was something he’d come to like over the 14,004 years he’d been assigned to this station. He’d even turned down promotion and reassignment multiple times, liking his role here immensely. He was in charge of a crew that ranged between 5,000 and 6,000 Kiritak at all times, with enough extra hull space to accommodate special projects that would see his crew numbers spike tenfold on various occasions, but mostly it was the regular fuel processing and fabrication, for the higher end fuels the more advanced Star Force reactors used were not simply harvested from the galaxy. They were carefully fabricated, some of which were highly unstable due to the size of the atoms involved.

But those larger atoms held so much more photonic ocean than the others they were worth it when you had the necessary protections in place. Deenva, in particular, had an atomic mass of over 2,000 and was held together by a very intricate sub-atomic balance, but it gave the warships the short span power surges needed for the bigger weapons without having to charge a capacitor first. That was why Star Force ships often had 6 or more different types of reactors onboard, each requiring different fuels, and Menchi had to manufacture all of them here, and thankfully Angry Widow…the star they were sucking material out of…had all the necessary components in ample enough amounts that Menchi didn’t have to move the Star Forge around to find them. The internal convection currents brought the material past the thousands of shield ‘straws’ he had sticking down into the fluid outer layers of the planet to draw material up, as well as to discard unwanted material back down.

And that material wasn’t just to make fuel. Menchi was overseer on a Star Forge, after all, and they had the capability to redesign themselves as they wished using the default factories inside to produce new factory equipment, hull plates, shield generators, etc. He could even build another Star Forge if he wanted, though he’d have to send some deeper straws down to get at the heavier elements and pockets of planetoids that had fallen into the star and were still in the process of slowly melting away in the furious slurry.

Then again, if he wanted to take the slow route he could use the alchemy processes the Star Forge possessed and turn the basic hydrogen into whatever other element he wanted, though the power costs for that were high and the volumes of product low. And that didn’t accommodate the more exotic particles, some of which had to be harvested, but the basic atomic table could be fully fabricated here as needed, giving every Star Forge an independence that Menchi liked. With the threat of the Hadarak breaking through the Grand Border, the possibility that disaster could befall Star Force was always in the back of his mind, and his ability to produce material for export without having to rely on imports was always a spot of mental relief for him.

And in fact some non-fuel factories were at work inside the Star Forge, typically for repair parts the incoming ships would need, and Menchi worked to keep a large warehouse of the most basic ones in stock, for ship captains didn’t like returning to shipyards for minor repairs, nor did they like waiting in line for slips to open when so many were occupied with new builds to fill out the anti-Hadarak war fleets that were rumored to be getting close to active status.

So many captains greatly appreciated being able to pick up some spare parts when they came by for fuel…which was another reason why many stopped by to fill up when they were no more than 20% depleted.

Menchi walked most of the way to the docking area, knowing the approach had to be a slow one for the ship along with a number of shielding tricks required to allow the ship in without backfeeding the hot atmosphere against the station’s hull. As stupid as it sounded, Menchi’s Star Forge didn’t have unlimited shielding power, so it had to use the ample amount it had wisely, though most of the power involved was used to fuel the shields themselves as well as charge the fuel being constructed internally.

He wanted a tertiary shield that covered the hull plates, but powering it and fitting the generators in would cause a lot of rebuilding at the sacrificing of other systems, and for that reason it wasn’t worth it. The collection ‘sails’ that were soaking in the energy from the star could only extend so far from the station, and building a bigger one meant more area to defend, which in turn meant more shield power consumed. Star Force hadn’t been able to build one ‘do it all’ Star Forge design to date, so they had to pick and choose what roles and equipment they put in them…which was also why the Sentinel was assigned here, for Menchi’s station had no weapons onboard at all, save for some inside the hangar bays to deal with unwanted guests.

But today’s guest was not unwanted, and she entered via a docking hatch rather than a dropship, given the small size of the vessel. The Human stood taller than Menchi, but not much taller, for she appeared to be slightly smaller than most.

“Greetings, Captain,” he offered, bowing his head crest slightly. “Welcome to Refueling Station Gamma 837. I believe this is the first time you have been here.”

“It is, and while I do need fuel, that is not the purpose of this visit. I am a courier with new orders for you,” she said, holding up a palm-sized holographic generator, which she turned on to display a molecular schematic. “A new fuel compound recently vetted. It appears to be more stable than most, but we need larger amounts to conduct field tests with, and this Star Forge has been selected to be the primary producer until such time as we can fully sign off on its usefulness for the fleet.”

“Fascinating,” Menchi said, looking at the rough diagram of the molecule. “Different atoms linked together?”

“I’m not privy to the details. I’m just the delivery girl.”

“This design…it’s unlike anything we’ve manufactured before.”

“First time for everything. They want you to produce and store everything until specific ships arrive for testing. It doesn’t go out to the general fleet. I’m told it looks compatible with our current reactors, but won’t be if the energy production numbers hold true. It’s rumored to burn them out, but there hasn’t been a full-scale test yet, nor industrial replication. You’re advised to step up production slowly while looking for complications.”

“Did we develop this or discover it?” Menchi asked, taking the holo disc from the Human and holding it in the palm of his hand while he continued to stare at the slowly rotating molecule.

“I’m told it was a discovery that we’re assimilating.”

“This isn’t natural, is it?”

“I don’t believe so, but I wasn’t told the source. Will you be able to handle this?”

“We can handle anything,” Menchi said confidently. “Does your ship need any repairs or refitting while it’s here?”

“I’ve got some burn marks on the hull from a debris impact during an interstellar jump that could use patching.”

Menchi looked up from his new treasure. “Did it penetrate the hull?”

“No, just my shields a few years ago. If it had been any bigger I’d be dead.”

“Uncharted route?”

“No, it was entering the Mu-enti System. Space junk most likely. They still have bits of it floating all over in the outer zone. Freak occurrence I’m glad to have lived through.”

“Why didn’t your sensors pick it up?”

“They picked up another larger chunk and diverted around it…into the smaller one. Bad alignment gave the ship no options other than moving into the way of bigger fragments further down. As I said, a very freak occurrence, but the shields took almost all the hit and the armor held up to the rest, but the scrape marks leave some vulnerability if hit there again.”

“We’ll take care of it if you can spare a few days wait.”

“I’m currently slated for repair work 3 years from now, so a few days will not be a problem. This is my only courier assignment, and I wasn’t given a return window.”

“It’s hard to remember back to when our logistics weren’t always pressed to the wall. I thought when we got the last of the evacuees out of the Core we’d catch up, but the Director has us pushing hard constantly.”

“The Hadarak aren’t going to go away because we ask them to,” the Human reminded him. “And they can produce replacements as fast, if not faster than us. We have to catch up to their industrial base before we can take them on in their own turf.”

Menchi cringed. “I’ve seen some of their systems in records. Nasty stuff. I don’t envy the military having to clean all that out.”

“Nor do I. I’m quite happy running sensor scans and messages.”

“I also prefer my quiet work here. If you would like a tour, I’d be happy to accommodate you.”

“Won’t that take you away from your work?”

“I work from my armor as much as my office,” he said, thumping on the thin white cloth-like plates he wore from the neck down. “I prefer the hands on approach rather than relying on other’s eyes.”

“Well then, I’ll accept a tour. A long walk would be welcome rather than pacing back and forth on my ship.”

Menchi huffed humorously. “That I can accommodate you as well. Follow me,” he said, leading her out of the docking area and through the station as he simultaneously began a closer analysis of the new fuel he was being asked to fabricate…and it was going to be hard. The internal alignment of each of these atoms was unique, and getting them to bond to each other was going to require extremely cold temperatures…but the notes indicated that under certain select circumstances the molecules and atoms within them would virtually disintegrate, and rather than losing a portion of their photon ocean they would lose in excess of 97% of it.

That was unheard of. Regular fusion shoved two atoms together into one, and that one would have a new photonic ocean smaller than the combination of the other two, but it would still be larger than a single one, so you’d end up with a 20%-40% loss that would then end up leaving as various forms of radiation, each of which was a particular size ‘droplet’ of photons clinging to each other. Smaller droplets were known as radio waves, while the medium ones were visible light, and the higher ones gamma rays and beyond. All could be absorbed by other compounds, but the bigger the droplets got the more disruption they caused when colliding with other matter…and in the case of Gamma Rays or bigger, they came in like a wrecking ball and would often destroy the target molecule or atom rather than deflecting off it or absorbing into it.

But photonic use was a matter for the reactor assembly to deal with. Fuel design was all about producing as much photon ocean release as possible per volume, and this new design…as yet unnamed…was indicated to have the potential to far outstrip current Star Force fuels in terms of raw power production, power spike, and absorption potential…while having a significantly higher decay rate. That meant it had to be used regularly, and wouldn’t store well for long term scenarios, but in a ship’s reactor that had to keep internal systems running constantly, they’d need more than the decay rate release of photonic energy every second of every day, so it seemed perfect for continuous use reactors.

The downside was you couldn’t build up a fuel depot for it the way you could for Vendium or Prose Trifate. Those could be stored for millennia with virtually no breakdown, and Menchi knew Star Force had huge repositories filled with them scattered across the empire, as well as a mandate that all new ships had to have at least one reactor onboard capable of using both in case fuel production facilities like Menchi’s Star Forge were shut down, cut off from the fleet, or destroyed.

But this new fuel…it was going to be a game changer. Now Menchi just had to figure out how hard it was going to be to produce outside the limited amount synthesized in a lab with very precise alchemy controls. You couldn’t use those for industrial scale applications, so Menchi had a lot of work to do figuring out a way to get the same synthesis pathways using other means…because he knew already the current process supplied was not going to be good enough. He’d use it at first, but he was going to have to tweak it, and the particle techs that developed stuff like this had a habit of only worrying about whether or not it could be done, rather than figuring out ways to do it efficiently.

That’s where fabricators came in. They’d take a discovery and figure out how to make it better, faster, and at less energy cost. And from the look of this, Menchi had the biggest challenge of his life ahead of him, for this design was clearly ahead of Star Force fuel technology. A huge leap ahead.

And Menchi was damn curious to know where they had found it.

5

July 9, 154931

Solar System (Home One Kingdom)

Earth

Kian-093 jumped straight up, traveling more than 15 meters before grabbing a suspended set of rings without having to use his Essence or Jumat. He grabbed onto one with his normally tan right hand, then began to monkey swing from one to another across the new super-sized obstacle course.

His skin hadn’t gained any color changing properties like a lot of the others had, but it was now a little thicker and tear resistant. Almost slippery when dry, though right now he was pouring out sweat as his inefficient new body went through the rigors of newb training…something he hadn’t had to deal with more than once in his life, and that was a very, very long time ago.

Yet his base attributes in the ‘Furyan’ body were largely superior to his bests in his Saiyan body, though not in all areas. Still, being out of shape as he was, he was near to his peak if not exceeding it in all aspects, with agility being his lowest area, but that was due to his size increase that now put him at 6’11’’.

Paul had been right about eating heavy, for when the size modification began he felt starved immediately. It didn’t happen gradual, and when it finally peaked out he felt a great sense of relief…both from the lack of ravenous appetite, but also from the disappearance of his tightly packed psionic tissue. It was still there, though modified now in some cases, but it had some breathing room now that his body was larger. His previous form had gotten crowded, so it was no surprise that all 100 trailblazers had seen the same size increase, with the smallest of them now standing 6’ 7’’…which was Oni-081…and the largest at a whopping 8’ 3’’, which was Brad-050.

But all of them didn’t look big. They looked painfully thin and scrawny, for their musculature had to stretch out to their new forms, with the minimal new tissue being added to accommodate the changes. It would take time to buff up again in all the ways they chose to, but the size increase was messing with Kian the most, for his arms and especially his legs didn’t move in the way he was used to. He was having to relearn everything that was familiar, including running cadence, and Wilson had devised this new training course specifically for their immediate needs…and their size, for a good sprint for Kian now had him easily over 100 miles per hour without even having to go Saiyan.

That speed, along with his larger mass, meant a lot of momentum had to change position when he tried to redirect…and he’d run into quite a few obstacles trying to go too fast too soon, but each day his body was rapidly adjusting and adapting, despite the fact that his upgrades were over. He could feel it clearly, though had a hard time articulating it. The transformation was done, as was the peculiar Essence effect, and now he was a youngling again in a new race that was patterned after his old form.

And each of the trailblazers was different. No two had exactly the same attributes, though they shared many. Kian had no mental upgrades, at least not as far as the extra organs that Roger, Paul, and some of the other more heavy naval types has gotten, though his larger brain was now working quite a bit faster. No, Kian had gained no ‘special’ abilities that the others didn’t have except for one, and that one was bizarrely unique.

After he finished swinging across the rings, he dropped down into an archway that he had to press upwards on, with the material giving slightly but resisting him. He had to push until it finally broke, then he picked up the top piece and put it on his shoulders, carrying it across a shallow pond that made him slosh through the water and focus on his balance even more than he had to on dry land, with the top heavy weight upping the difficulty even further.

Kian trudged on, with ‘trudged’ being the best word to describe his workouts. He felt so bad, and yet at the same time he felt sky high. If the Zak’de’ron and Neofan felt something like this, he could understand their overstated superiority complexes, but Kian’s analytical mind knew that the measure of a man wasn’t with his starting equipment, but how he used it. The Archons were chosen for their ability to learn to do things, not their base attributes, and it seemed the ‘superior’ races in the galaxies relied on the reverse. Until recently he had thought it was mostly ego, but now he realized there was some truth to it.

He wasn’t going to let Clan Valen go that route when he got around to producing hybrids between himself and Kerrie-057, and he knew the others wouldn’t either. The big difference between the Archons…and especially the trailblazers…and the rest of the universe, was that they had an ego and the Archons did not. An ego was someone claiming a status, whereas everything the Archons did defined their status. One was assumption, the other proof, and once you got calibrated to the proof of reality you could never go back to the weakness of assumptions. Claiming superiority because of your team was even worse, and though Kian was feeling quite proud of his new body, he did not want to take it into combat anytime soon. He was so off his mojo he needed time to recalibrate, for while he was quite a bit stronger than he had been previously, he was clumsy and could be taken unawares very easily.

Then again, even before he wasn’t weapon proof…or rock proof. And the newb struggles he was going through for the second time reinforced that. What he had was a great opportunity and a brand new road before him that echoed of the past, and he knew his future wasn’t in lording his powers over the other lesser races…not that it had been before…but he could sense that more of his work now would be independent of them. They needed him, like all Archons, to not just lead them, but to seek out and deal with the most powerful enemies and neutralize them before they could get to Star Force’s weaker population.

In Star Force the Kings and Queens didn’t hide behind the pawns. The Kings and Queens went to the front lines, shielding the pawns and escorting them to the other side of the game board so they too could become Queens. It was the exact opposite of every civilization Star Force had encountered. Not one put their leaders into the greatest danger, and in truth Star Force only half did so. The Monarchs remained protected, but for the Archons their place was in the deepest darkness the galaxy held, which was where the lightside was needed the most. And that was where most of Star Force could not go, let alone survive, so Kian foresaw his future being mostly a solitary one, but one with far greater importance than he had had before.

He chucked the piece of arch off into the sand on the far side of the pond and sprinted through the remaining marshland, tripping and falling twice, before he got to the finish line and smacked the ‘end’ button, then he stood bent over breathing heavily as his nippleless chest looked like it was on the verge of exploding.

He was about to walk it off, then reminded himself that while his mind was sharp and experienced, his body was new and he needed to go easy on it, so he instead sat down at the finish and gave himself a few minutes to rest, deciding not to move on until his breathing slowed back to near normal.

When he did he looked down at his bare chest, for he was wearing only a pair of tight shorts and nothing else, and saw that his navel had sealed over again. It hadn’t been that way when he’d started the course, or had he just neglected to notice it? Either way, it wasn’t responding to his commands, but rather auto-triggering, which was annoying.

Kian tapped the little fleshy covering that made it look like the hole in his abdomen didn’t exist, but it did, and inside it was something growing, as it had done twice before. The first time was a total shock when he was sleeping and he felt movement in what had been little more than a fleshy lump earlier. He’d used his Pefbar to look at it, as he did now, and saw a little creature inside then…but right now was just a forming cradle, similar to an egg, in which biomatter was being accumulated for the growth later.

A few months ago that biomatter had been consumed to form a little spider, except it wasn’t a real spider, nor a person, but a highly advanced biological drone that had his genetic code augmented with elements of biology Star Force had yet to discover in this galaxy. The little 6-legged creature had a complex mind that he could upload commands and programs into, as well as remote control if it was near, but it could also operate independently like the Uriti minions, and when he’d left the first one in his quarters with a plate of food for it to chew on, he’d returned some 22 hours later after a string of workouts and medical tests Wilson demanded, only to find 4 of the spiders on the tray eating away heavily.

The one had consumed so much it had grown a second spider on its back, then the two had split and ate, then divided again…which was when Kian realized he had somehow gained the ability to produce stargate-esk replicators, only in a biological rather than machine sense.

At least that was until he exposed them to various ores and metals, with them ingesting them and augmenting their structure to the point where they were mostly metal, or rock, or whatever else he fed them. He’d been experimenting as much as he could in between training, and it seemed his little naval replicator shipyard was beginning to create a third automatically.

Kian suspected there was a lot of use for them, though right now he wasn’t sure what…though the original ones were growing larger, now up to the size of a small cat, depending on how much he fed them or instructed them to grow. And the bigger they got, the more programming options he had available, for it was like they were drastically advanced technology that was unspooling its design dependent on its size.

And their genetics, along with Kian’s, were not fully visible to Star Force technology. Like the Zak’de’ron, they’d taken on additional elements that could not be fully cataloged, and those new elements were densest in the replicators…of which he now had a small army of 2 inch versions in his quarters that he’d instructed to grow no larger, but to still keep replicating. At last count they were up to several thousand, looking like ants in the storage bins he’d modified for their ‘home.’

Combat wise they were pretty much useless, unlike Paul’s spine growth that was also unique, though his seemed to be connected to the Saiolum in some way, which made it impossible for the medtechs to fully analyze, but from what Paul said, he could create a small bubble field around him that would shut down electronic technology and a few other kinds as well, just freeze up anything that wasn’t biological, and he said that for some reason that suited him well, because he preferred fighting an opponent based more on physical skill than technological gear…and Kian sensed a similar connection to his replicators, eventually tracing it to his love of RTS video games where one commanded an army rather than a character in order to accomplish missions.

Others had said the same about some of their abilities, and all of them had agreed that any offspring had to be unique to each Clan, which meant Kian’s pairing with Kerrie would not be used by Kerrie for her Clan. She’d link with another one of the guys for hers, and while that offered many more genetic combinations than the 100 needed, they’d chosen to limit it there as they explored what the Furyans would become…but they weren’t even to that point yet, for the trailblazers had to figure out first what they’d become, and that would take a lot of training and self-exploration.

And they were all eager for it after so many millennia of near stagnation as they waited for the fleet to build up to a level they could finally use to smash the Hadarak. Paul had taken it the worst, but none of them were immune, and they realized that in retrospect. They were meant to be fighters and explorers, not managers, trainers, and Admirals…and when The Admiral himself had said that, the others had immediately paid attention, for Paul to forgo most of his naval activities was shocking.

Yet in retrospect they all agreed that’s the way he used to be, focused more on sword fighting than Naval. He’d just become so good at Naval he felt he was obligated to push hard in that path. And to be fair, in the beginning he was doing the most to design and build the Naval division. Now that that construction was over, there was little exploring to be done on that front.

Then again, there was still some, for Paul’s Force Ghost had started to give him technology descriptions, including one for weapon systems none of them had ever heard of. Most were probably less powerful than what Star Force had, but give the Mastertechs something new to work with and they’d be able to improve it. Kian would bet a planet on that. Plus, the Sha’kier had a long battle record against the Hadarak, and already some specific weapons to fight them were being described…though he wasn’t in a position to download mental blueprints, for Paul’s ability to connect to him was still too feeble, so Azoro was having to explain in words alone, but even those little tidbits were groundbreaking, and Kian was beginning to see why Paul was so convinced Azoro was the key to Star Force’s future.

And Kian admitted it was nice to finally get some help from a lightside-ish ally, rare as they were in the universe.

The trailblazer blew out one long, final breath, then was able to get his normal respiration back. He stood up and walked out the nearby doors, dripping heavily with sweat that was unnatural for him. He didn’t think it was his Furyan body, but rather his out of shapeness doing it, but who knew. His appetite for certain foods had already shifted considerably, and who knew what else was going to be different.

Time would tell, and all 100 of them were eyes full ahead and charging into the unknown. This was what they were meant for, and the physical limitations of the past, especially pre-Essence, were now completely destroyed, for if this race-upgrade could occur once, it could also occur again in the future when…and if…they mastered these bodies.

They no longer had to be content with what they’d accomplished, they could continue to push forward…forever, and that was the biggest relief for all of them. The important part of their lives wasn’t over, just the early levels, with the bigger and more important stuff being ahead, as it always should be.

That mindset change had brought them back to what they were in the beginning, only better for all the experience they had. So while they might be newbs in these bodies, the Cores inside them certainly were not, and that meant they weren’t going to stay newbs for very long, as long as Kian didn’t over press and get himself injured, as a few of the others had, though their healing rate was so high now they almost didn’t need a Regenerator for the smaller stuff, because the tissue would be fully repaired within a day or two as long as they ate enough foodstuffs.

Kian was slightly more patient than the others, though he was chomping at the bit as well, and while his body needed rest right now after the obstacle course run, his mind wasn’t so fatigued, so he took his dripping self over to one of the mech simulators and climbed into a control sphere, with the force fields raising his body up and letting him essentially stand in a body-covering cushion as his mind connected to the program. He was inside a cat-like mech known as a Puma, with the quadruped nature of it causing many mechwarriors issues, but Kian found it more normal now than he had before, and the others had noted similar comfort with other forms…especially Cora-005, who had gotten a brain-augment that allowed her to almost effortlessly adjust her mind to any mechanical body she linked with, similar to how Roger-009’s upgrade had him controlling Naval fleets with such an ease that he had leapt past Paul in the Naval rankings virtually overnight.

Kian really needed to work on his body, but he was still an Archon and wasn’t going to neglect any of the 5 disciplines…though the upper ranking system had just got blown out of the water, no aquatic pun intended, though the Furyans’ unaugmented swimming ability still sucked compared to other races, but was faster now than Humans thanks to their longer arms and legs.

Kian would hit the pool in a few hours after his mech training was over, then get some food and a quick nap before heading to the gym for sparring practice with the Golden Knights, some of which had been recalled to help with the trailblazers’ training since they were now of equal body size, though Vermaire hadn’t returned yet. He was still out poaching Hadarak minions wherever he could find a good fight along the Grand Border, and he had a lot to choose from.

The rest of Star Force would deal with that for the time being, and when the fleet got built up enough to finish this fight and claim this galaxy for the lightside, Kian was confident the trailblazers will have outgrown their newbness and be back stronger and sharper than before.

In fact, he expected them to get to that point well before the fleet did…

6

July 13, 154931

Solar System (Home One Kingdom)

Earth

Paul had been doing workouts like the rest, all of which were solo at this point. Wilson had demanded that before they began sparring or otherwise training with each other, but Paul also had a different set of training to work in, so he’d extended the normal 24 hour day to 27, which put him out of sync with the others, but at this point that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to eat with them, and they talked enough through the message boards sharing notes on their new bodies and brainstorming ways to deal with the challenges Wilson was throwing at them…which were getting harder each month now that the newbness had worn off, and Paul didn’t expect anything but headaches to come.

But Wilson knew Paul had a bigger priority, and he’d likewise adjusted his training to accommodate the longer day, which meant a bit less intensity so he could extend it on the same amount of sleep…which he was getting a solid 6 hours of each day. That had been unheard of before, but since he could turn down his metabolism on a whim he didn’t need to stay in constant hyper mode…but come a combat situation that would be very helpful to go back into, especially if that combat was to last days or weeks, and so far it didn’t seem like they were losing their efficiency with all the down time. The higher metabolism was just now an option they had, and as long as they kept it dusted off now and again there wasn’t any loss involved.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t train it to be better, and the others already were working on that, but Paul wasn’t. He has biding his time and energy, as it was necessary to relax in order to connect to the Saiolum. His grasp on it was so tentative he had to focus to know it was even there, but when he did it was as if he was transported into another dimension…except that it overlayed on this one, and was part of reality rather than something separate like the Essence realm.

Today was no different, and after an 8 mile run at a casual 38 miles per hour, Paul sat down in a meditation room that had sound dampening walls and a hatch that could only be opened from the inside, though there was a single light on the door to use as a doorbell that would illuminate when someone outside wanted their attention. If the light wasn’t interacted with in a few seconds it would elevate to an audible chime that would get progressively louder, which was intended not to shock a person if they were in silent mode and had let their hearing adjust to the point where a mere rustle of clothing was as loud as a waterfall.

With the hatch sealed, he sat down crosslegged on the padded floor and relaxed further, finding a pose for his arms that wasn’t distracting, and opened himself up to the Saiolum, with him immediately feeling the energy field around and inside him, with various currents flowing between high and low pressures like an atmosphere. Everywhere there was a biological lifeform, whether it be person or plant, that was a high pressure that was actively creating the energy, and it clung to the person like water clinging to a rock before gravity overcame the cloying effect and pulled it off.

But for the Saiolum, gravity wasn’t involved. Rather it was the depth of the field around the biological source. Only so much could build up before it got too far away and ‘evaporated’ off, spreading out like mist and free floating through the environment. But put multiple lifeforms together and their ‘gravity’ held what they produced together into a much larger communal sphere of energy, and even the tiny bacteria in the soil produced their own tiny outflows.

Earth was covered with biology, so the entire planet was a giant ball of cloying energy, though the center of the planet was lesser so, because it was uninhabited. Still, it was close enough to the surface to benefit from the proximity and create a massive ocean in which the currents swirled more in some places than others, and Paul was getting better at sensing them away from him the more time he connected with and just let his awareness of the Saiolum drift and explore.

He could see miles around him now, unless he hit on a specific current or strand, for two lifeforms near one another would create a higher density strand between them, making an ecology like Earth’s appear as a spider web if your sensitivity was high enough, and Paul’s was just barely getting to that point within close proximity. Yet when he mentally latched onto one of those visible strands a few meters away…enhanced by the fact that he had several potted trees in his meditation room to aid this…he could follow the strands further out, and where they connected to others he could choose a single pathway and follow it further out, seemingly without end.

Range didn’t matter as long as there were connections, and he’d previously been able to reach all the way down to Antarctica until one of his link threads moved too far away from another and it snapped, cutting off his vision and forcing him to start over again entirely.

Today Paul was just lazily looking around and exploring the planet without having to leave the confines of Atlantis, and when he did so he didn’t see people or places hardly at all. His vision wasn’t good enough for that. He just got little glowing lights with bits of images or emotions or memories when his mind landed on them, and it was almost as if just traveling through the Saiolum like this was leveling him up, for each time his connection and skill seemed to grow despite the fact that his body didn’t produce any more of the energy field than it had before. That part was constant, but it was his connection to it that was growing, though how he didn’t know.

It wasn’t his body doing it, and Azoro hadn’t been too clear on what produced the energy field in the first place, but this was real regardless and Paul was quite content to pause his training for a few hours each day and just explore…though the tendrils connecting Earth to the other planets in the Solar System were far too weak for him to even register, though he could feel a little sucking action where they existed.

For when you had ‘highs’ and ‘lows’ you would have flow between them. The Saiolum energy wanted to cling to something rather than evaporate and float out into nowhere, so if there was even the slightest tendril connecting to a single lifeform further out and the host sphere was too large to contain all the energy being produced, you would have a current flowing to the ‘low’ that would quickly fill up its sphere and push beyond it, with the excess ‘evaporating.’ This should have then created an equilibrium and stopped the flow, but it didn’t, for the flow had momentum and continued to hit the ‘low,’ causing a surge that would knock off more than the sphere could hold in sort of a tidal wave effect, thus creating more room afterwards to absorb more flow…which would then hit and overload again, creating a constant river of Saiolum from the larger spheres to the smaller ones.

And on these rivers Azoro could travel from one place to another without effort if he wished, or he could actively ‘swim’ through them, up or downstream, but the mist beyond the spheres he could not exist within, where that line was around each sphere was his boundary, but not the end of his vision. He’d told Paul that he could sense the incoming mist from distant places and get a sense of where it had come from, and from what. Including across the gaps between galaxies.

Death also created a ripple just before the body stopped producing energy. New life did as well, along with growth. So everywhere in Earth’s forests where the trees and plants were growing Paul could feel little ripples coming off them as the amount of energy they created increased.

But where people were involved it was much more dramatic, and his fellow trailblazers in training produced the most vivid ripples he had encountered. He wasn’t sure why yet, and was waiting for the next time Azoro contacted him to ask, but their physical movement adjusted the position of their ‘highs,’ thus creating ripples, but there was more to it than he’d seen elsewhere, and it was always when they were in combat mode. Running or swimming did a little more, but sparring or fighting against drones always created…

“They’re called Ni’vo’tu,” Azoro said, appearing in his mind in the same familiar Zen’zat armor as if he was standing in the same room in front of Paul. “The Saiolum is about harmony, and combat disrupts this like you dragging your hand from the air into the water, with bubbles being dragged along. Those bubbles create disruptions that alter the density of the Saiolum, and when it rebalances you additional ripples.”

“Can it be used to shake tendrils?” Paul suspected.

“Your curiosity serves you well. Yes it can, but the greatest strength of the Saiolum is knowledge and connection. Wisdom rather than firepower. It is what binds the galaxies together, and the more life there is there is more Saiolum. Death is its enemy, not a counterbalance. This is why my race did not like warfare, though sometimes it is necessary to fight and kill to prevent mass death as a result of inaction.”

“Kill one to save a million?”

“In some cases, though I know you do not agree with this.”

“If the Life Springs will just create more, what is your obsession with maximizing life production?”

The Zen’zat visibly shrugged. “Habit. Culture. Ritual. We were taught to grow the Saiolum whenever we could, and after a while you stop thinking and just do. Perhaps that is one weakness we had that Star Force does not, but we do not apologize for protecting life.”

“Nor do I apologize for not betraying an individual to save others. Better to have a thousand die to an enemy than one die to a friend.”

“A source of your unity, perhaps, though not mathematically wise.”

“Sacrifice is at the heart of the darkside, Azoro. And it seems to run counter to the Saiolum as well.”

“It does, but we are not of it…well, aside from the Ju’en’xa…but we are so few that it does not speak accurately of our race. We would walk in the dark places to protect the light, and in some cases do unsavory things to protect others. You have a different methodology, and one that appears to be naïve, yet it has served you well. I hope it continues to.”

“Did yours?”

“Ultimately no, but I cannot see how adopting your methodology would have saved us.”

“You gotta give me something. You know my mind is strategic. How did they take you down?”

The Zen’zat knelt, standing on his tiptoes as his knees rose almost to his chest and he placed one hand on the floor and spun his extended fingers in a circle…with Paul’s head immediately starting to hurt, but the image of a cloud with dots in it was of more interest to him, for this was the first time Azoro had shown him something he hadn’t seen before.

“The others do not matter for now, but you are facing the Hadarak. Within the Saiolum they are strong, though they do not know it. We could see everywhere in their domain when we got past their front lines to their heavily populated worlds, and we learned much even before I was marooned and went in search of more answers. But the Ni’vo’tu that you have recently discovered also acts as white noise and hides vision unless you know where to look or are very strong. With distance our strength in the Saiolum diminishes, so we could not see what we needed to see then, and it allowed them to gain an advantage on us that others exploited, especially in the latter days.”

“Which was?”

The dots in the cloud moved, as did the pain in Paul’s head, but he didn’t see any particular pattern he recognized.

“We do not like killing, but defending against the Hadarak requires much of it. Too much for our civilization to be good at, so we were always looking for weak points that we could strike to stem the flow, or cripple their ability to get to us. We were desperate for a way to fight them without having to resort to the same level of butchery that they employ, for we did not want to lose ourselves only to live on as drained corpses. Betrayal of life should only be done selectively, and rarely, not on an industrial scale.”

“Or not at all.”

“Preferably,” Azoro half agreed, “but the weak points in the Hadarak we never found, for they do not exist. At least, not as we were searching for. Do you see anything before you worth the pain I am inducing?”

“Nothing,” Paul admitted.

The Zen’zat nodded. “Now add in us,” he said, with a sprinkling of little specs of light amongst the dark dots.

“Us as in…?”

“The weak point in our civilization. The Sha’kier relied on the Ju’en’xa, who could not die, yet the Hadarak could kill us.”

The image of the cloud and the dots changed, with a swath of the dots winking out, and with it the cloud around them disappeared…followed shortly by the lights inside it.

“They have a self-death protocol, don’t they?” Paul asked, suddenly understanding.

“Yes they do, to diminish their numbers in the conquered systems in order to avoid drawing the Apocalypse Monsters…or so the Neofan told you. This isn’t entirely untrue, but the Hadarak did not only employ it in these areas. They also used it in the contested ones when they identified the position of one of us. If we were blockaded in a stronghold they could not easily take, they would take all the surrounding systems and mass produce population in them, creating an outflow of Saiolum, then they would grind the stronghold down until all were dead except them.”

“Then in unison they would all die,” Paul guessed.

“Not just in the one system, but all the surrounding ones. The death ripples would be so massive a Ju’en’xa like me could not even move, let alone flee through the strands connecting systems before it was too late. Without anchors to hold onto, all the Saiolum in those areas would disintegrate in an outflow that we cannot live in, but I felt it from afar many times. Even across the galaxies. And those Ju’en’xa inside were not heard from again, presumed dead, but I still hope a few managed to see what was coming and leave before it was too late.”

“How did they know?”

“They should not have,” Azoro said, referencing the Hadarak. “They cannot perceive the Saiolum, and we did not make its secrets public knowledge beyond our race, and within it knowledge was restricted in tiers of accomplishment. It is possible the Hadarak took this knowledge from us, but I do not believe that is what happened.”

“Someone else told them?”

“No. I think the Hadarak were engineered specifically to counter us. Weaken us to the point others could take us down, and above all else, force us into death dealers in order to survive.”

“Which was the Natural Order they wished all to adhere to?”

“Exactly. How do you manage it? You have killed so many, yet you still cling to the idea that not a single individual can be sacrificed to save lives. I see it in your mind but I cannot comprehend.”

“You are mistaking the Saiolum for the lightside. They are not the same thing.”

“Both are life.”

“No. The Lightside protects life, but it is not life. It is…honor…more than anything.”

“Curious. You never thought that way before.”

“I don’t have to think it, I can feel it. I am it now, and always had an inkling for it in my early days.”

“The mind cannot reveal all. I will be more diligent in my observations. I apologize for the brevity, but I have exhausted you thoroughly.”

“I am glad I have advanced enough for you to do so.”

“A minor stepping stone, but all are significant and necessary in order to get you to where you need to go. Rest now. No more will I teach you today.”

Paul smiled as the Zen’zat disappeared. He rather liked it when he quoted Yoda.

A crick in his neck caused him to twist around oddly, which then elicited a wave of bad across his body. He really had gotten fried by that.

“Force vision session over,” he declared as he painfully climbed to his feet and headed out the hatch with a telepathic signal for the door to open. “Time for a nap.”

7

Master Trainer Wilson was in over his head. He’d personally outlined, and in some cases detailed, thousands of different races’ training programs ranging from general fitness, to injury recovery, to specific skill progression. He’d even figured out Essence training, though to date his biggest accomplishment was the first…the training of the Archons, and specifically the first class of trailblazers.

That should have made this easier, not harder, because he knew them better than anyone else…yet they were different now, though also the same, and he couldn’t get a handle on what they’d become after 10 months of working the problem.

They didn’t know that, for he was staying ahead of the curve and they had a lot of the usual base building rigors to go through. No, it was the higher end stuff that was eluding him, because he was missing something.

Wilson slammed a fist down on his desk and stood up, choosing to pace a bit rather than stare at holograms of familiar statistics. The trailblazers were progressing normally…which was not normal for them. They should have been taking off like a rocket with all the experience they had, but they weren’t, and that worried him. He was missing something. He knew it in his bones.

It could be an interdynamic, for he hadn’t let them do anything other than solo training…but each of them had developed different from the others. There were 13 noticeable augmentations that all 100 of them had, but on top that there were 183 other abilities that some shared and a few of those that were unique to certain people.

Leo-072 was the best swimmer in the group, though not the highest rated in Aquatics. He spent far more time in the actual water than the others did, and his transformation had him developing a skin coating that looked like a tattoo of a net covering him in half inch-wide squares with subtle ridges. They pinched together at various points and expanded at others, but what they did was even more odd. They were interacting with the water and causing it to pull along his body as a form of propulsion, and neither Wilson nor the best Star Force medtechs understood the physics of it.

Like the ambrosia-production nodules in all of their bodies, Leo’s ‘web force’…as coined by Greg-073…was an advance beyond Star Force’s current knowledge, and while Wilson could train him to use it as simple as any other propulsion, there was something underlying it all that he was missing and it meant his training wasn’t having the effect it should.

A tone sounded from his door, and he telepathically sent the ‘open’ command rather than using the button, with it whisking open to reveal a Human larger than Wilson wearing the telltale black/gold uniform of a Golden Knight.

“There is something wrong with them,” he said, brushing past Wilson and going to one of the many data terminals in the Head Trainer’s lab, “and I think I have a lead on what.”

“I’m all ears,” he said, walking up beside one of the original Knights that had advanced so far that he now possessed Saiyan genetics, as did all of Vermaire’s personal unit. Wilson envied them that, for while he had been given the opportunity as well, he had declined. His training was not all day long, and a lot of his work was assisting others…something a Saiyan metabolism was not built for, though he did have Essence abilities whereas the Golden Knights did not so they could remain specialists in hand to hand combat.

“Look,” Jarod Menson said, bringing up a holo of a sparring session between Morgan-063 and 4 of the Golden Knights…with her not faring so well as they all went at it in full blonde mode. The sparring had to be slowed down to view it well, but there was something definitely off with the way Morgan moved.

“What am I looking at?”

“She’s not Morgan.”

Wilson looked at him deathly seriously. “Explain.”

“That’s not the Morgan I’ve fought before. She fell for several tricks I’ve used in the past. I thought she was going a bit slow so I tried again, expecting her to make me pay for it, but she didn’t see it coming. She also fell for several twice in a row, and Morgan would never do that. This isn’t the normal her.”

“Obviously.”

“No, this is not her mojo. She’s not acting like Morgan. She’s scared and defensive, not relishing a mismatch to learn from. I started pulling back a little to see if she just needed a break, but it didn’t change. And I’m noticing the same thing in the others in retrospect now that I know what to look for.”

“They grew 1-2 feet in a month,” Wilson said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps that rush has damaged them in a way we can’t see.”

“I’m telling you, it’s not her. Something has changed for the worse.”

In that moment something clicked in Wilson’s mind, and he kicked himself for not seeing it earlier.

“Thank you, Jarod. I’m going to get to the bottom of this now,” he said, heading for the door. “Follow me.”

Morgan was running on a Halo track when Wilson found her, meaning she was running on the walls in a giant circle that allowed her to go straight forever, for the artificial gravity was situated so that ‘down’ was towards the track at all times. When someone wanted to run with maximum speed, the halo track is where they went, but Morgan wasn’t going that fast. Instead she was going long and slow, currently clocked at 4 hours of what should have been a 3 hour run that he’d prescribed before her sleep cycle…but she was exceeding that and cringed the moment she ran past Wilson and saw him spot her.

She slowed to a stop and turned around, hands on her hips as she was breathing heavier than normal for such a run as she walked back towards him and Jarod.

“I know, I know. I just didn’t feel tired enough to sleep. I’m spending half my time staring at the ceiling before I nod off.”

“You look exhausted,” Wilson commented.

“I am, but I’m not sleepy. This new metabolism is so screwy. Did he tattle on me?” she asked, glancing at the Golden Knight.

“No, I needed to talk to you about something.”

“Shoot.”

“First, I need to scan your mind. A deep scan.”

Morgan winced. “I didn’t do that much more…”

Wilson frowned at her. “We can discuss that latter, but the problem is partially my fault for not having your training tuned as much as it should be.”

“We’re in brand new bodies, I don’t expect you to have it tuned yet.”

“Can you relax enough to let me in?”

Morgan knelt down on her knees and sat back on her ankles as she closed her eyes and got her head lower than his. “Go ahead, but my subconscious is bouncing all over the place, including puberty-like sexual fetishes that come out of nowhere. Don’t hold it against me if I suddenly start craving your dick.”

“It’s part of the reset,” he said dismissively as he put a hand on her forehead and held it there to bypass the Ikrid blocks that had been upgraded immensely in the transformation. Now the trailblazers had an automatic resistance to hacking even if one made physical contact and they were unconscious. They had to focus to allow someone to hack in.

“You should have told me sooner,” Wilson said, realizing that Morgan was a hot mess right now, but she had everything contained within mental boxes that wouldn’t have one thing spilling over into another. It was a defense mechanism they’d developed when dealing with a myriad of adverse situations in their past, and now she was pulling on it heavily to keep herself together enough to get through the day’s training assignments…but oddly, the lack of intensity was backfiring. For she needed it to help hold her together, and the additional ‘rest’ was allowing the instability to resist suppression.

“That feels good,” Morgan said after a few minutes. “What are you doing?”

“Pulling off some of the strain. You’re not emotionally clearing properly, and it’s building up layers of residue.”

“Take it all off. Along with my clothes if you want. Part of me is begging for it. Jarod can even watch if you like,” she said sarcastically.

“The jokes help, don’t they?” Wilson asked.

“A bit. Sort of airing out the trash in my head, and there’s not so much left afterward. I get so horny sometimes, then moments later it’s gone and I feel so icky.”

“Have you tried having sex? Or any physical contact?”

“I’m not that far gone. Or are you suggesting that?”

“You’d refuse even if I was,” he said, seeing her doing the same ‘airing’ process again, and from inside her mind it was obvious. “There it is,” he said, finally pulling through the layers of surface gunk that were choking her mind to find an annoying undercurrent that she couldn’t shake, and it was annoying her immensely.

“What?”

“Aren’t you tracking me?”

“No. It feels good you poking around inside me, and I don’t care what you’re doing, just keep doing it. My head feels like it’s deflating.”

“Your size increase.”

“Thought that was my line,” she quipped.

“You hate it,” he said, getting to the point he had guessed back in the lab. “Your agility advantage is gone, partially supplemented by your superior body. But you can’t move like you used to, and you never will. You have to learn another type of movement, and even if you get it up to speed, your mass is going to be an issue on redirects.”

“Now that you mention it, I don’t really like that. I was hoping I’d train my way out of it.”

“You’re not going to train yourself to be lighter. You’re already up to 193 pounds, and you’re going to add another 15 in muscle minimum.”

“Guess it’s the tradeoff for all the extra goodies.”

“Have you considered losing some of them?”

Morgan blinked her eyes open, staring at Wilson’s midsection, but suddenly was not interested in the up close view. “Meaning what?”

“No need, you’re already working it out…and the stress is pouring off you.”

“I just got all this stuff, and you want me to bail on it?”

“If you want to be a jack of all trades, you need the extra body volume. That’s probably why it happened naturally.”

“Isn’t that the definition of an Archon?”

“What division of the military does your increased size help in?”

“Commando and swimming, with some minimizations in both.”

“Are you the top rated Commando?”

“No.”

“Swimmer?”

“No.”

“Aquatics, Mechs, Aerial, Naval?”

“You know I’m not.”

“What are you the best at?”

“Hand to hand dueling,” she admitted, not going to argue that Ginsi had an advantage. Especially not now with her new body, though Ginsi would be dancing all around her at this point…

“Right there,” Wilson said as she thought it. “You don’t want to be a jack of all trades. You want to be Fiora. The supreme duelist. And to do that you need to be smaller, not bigger.”

“We don’t fully understand these bodies, and I mean the medtechs. Shrinking me could do all kinds of damage.”

“Waiting until later would be worse. You’re already a mess and need to rebuild, but you can’t do that unless you abandon your duelist persona. What’s more important to you?”

“Losing my fitness with a shrinking process scares the shit out of me,” Morgan admitted. “But since I don’t have much fitness now to lose, you’re probably right. But I’m still scared of what could go wrong.”

“We’ve done it with Knights and Esquires,” Jarod commented.

“I know how it works,” Morgan said snarkily as she held still under Wilson’s head. “But you guys were crazy for taking the size enhancements in the first place.”

“Why is it crazy?”

“Because you weren’t designed for it,” Wilson said, reading her mind before she could say it. “And now you’re worried about messing with your new design and putting yourself into an unnatural state…but this is an unnatural state for you. Can’t you feel it?”

“I feel all kinds of unnatural now. Take your pick.”

“It’s your choice, Morgan. But now is better than tomorrow, and tomorrow better than the next day.”

“I’d have to get rid of some psionics to keep the new Jumat tissue…which I am keeping, because it’s awesome.”

“And that kind of feels like treason after all you went through to get them?”

“It’s like going backwards, and I hate going backwards.”

“Jumat is your go-to psionic. Has been since the beginning. Everything else is just a toolkit for you. Adjust the toolkit so it doesn’t get so heavy it slows you down.”

Morgan sighed, realizing the wisdom in that and kicking herself for not seeing it earlier. “I’m really glad you’re around,” she said to Wilson, then glanced at Jarod. “You I’ll get even with later. You tattled about something or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Be glad he did, because I didn’t see this. I knew something was wrong with all of you, and this is at least part of it.”

“All of us?”

“Yeah. You’re progressing as fast as normal people. What does that tell you?”

Morgan groaned. “I’m swimming in my own out-of-shapeness so much I don’t have a reference point. Just taking it one stroke at a time and knowing I’ll get there eventually.”

“There’s always a risk, but I think you need to take a couple of days and do a personal inventory, then do a cannonball into the deep end. Patience and caution do not suit you. You’re best when you’re wisely reckless.”

Morgan smirked. “Isn’t that an oxymoron?”

“You know it’s not. But if I said those words to others less experienced they’d get the wrong idea. Jarod tattled that you weren’t kicking his ass as much as you should have been.”

“Wish I could disagree, but all I could manage was a mild ass kicking against the four of them. My arms and legs move slow, even though I know they’re not. But my midsection is the worst. I feel so fat rather than nimble.”

“Pick a height that is suitable for you. Doesn’t have to be your original. Then see how much tissue you can fit into that frame, what you can keep and what you can’t. I can already sense your choice. Why 5’11”?”

“One inch more than Ginsi. But you knew that already. You just wanted me to say it out loud.”

“Feel better?”

“Yes. The Master is not going to be outdone by the Apprentice.”

“Rise, Master,” Wilson said, letting go of her head and seeing her stand up taller than him, which still seemed out of place after so many months, though at least her skin hadn’t changed color like some of the others had and she still had her taunting ponytail, for it was a definite disadvantage in combat, giving an enemy such a handhold on your head. But when you were agile enough to dance around your opponents, you could get away with it and scoff afterwards.

And that was definitely Morgan in a nutshell.

“Will you set it up?”

“I’ll be there every step of the way. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“I think better in motion,” she said, thumbing over her shoulder to the track.

“Get going,” Wilson said, with her turning and taking off with more vigor than he’d seen her running with before, then she disappeared around the gradual curve as the interior wall eclipsed the view of her on the 3 mile long track.

“So you’re saying she’s going to kick more ass in a smaller body?” Jarod asked, not fully buying it.

“If size was all that mattered, we’d make you King Kong size, now wouldn’t we?”

“Is that even possible?”

“Not without a lot of modifications beyond size, but theoretically there is no limit.”

“Has anyone tried it?”

“Not in Star Force.”

“Somewhere else?”

“Yes.”

“Did it work?”

“They died within 3 weeks as their body crushed itself under its own weight.”

“I’ll pass then,” the Golden Knight said. “Am I done here?”

“Yes, thank you. I wanted her to see you to provoke a reaction, but it ended up being different than I assumed. She wasn’t scared of you.”

“I could have told you that,” Jarod said as if that was the stupidest thing ever as he walked off. The truth was, the Golden Knights were scared of her, save for Vermaire, and were immensely glad she was on their team, for they would not want to meet her on the opposite side in the battlefield. And in sparring, they always expected to get their ass kicked. That’s how they got better, with her highlighting their weaknesses and exploiting them, but it was always scary how someone smaller than them could light them up every time.

And now Wilson said she was better off being smaller in her new body, and Jarod cringed at what that was going to feel like after she mastered it.

It was going to hurt. A lot. Even for Vermaire.

8

July 16, 154931

Solar System (Home One Kingdom)

Earth

It took three days for Morgan and the medtechs to finalize her rebuild, which wasn’t entirely unnatural. Her Human body had been designed to shrink when needed, mainly in her muscles, and it didn’t just chop off sections at random. It downsized as expertly as it had grown, but things like skeleton and brain tissue were not meant to do the same…but when the medtechs dug into her new genome they realized that everything in her could downsize on its own.

That surprised both Morgan and Wilson, but both agreed that rather than try to figure out how to train herself into a smaller, faster form it was best if they took the quicker route in order to start to get her rebalanced enough to get a handle on her new body, for right now she was arguably a mess and going through this blind looking for a size reduction protocol was a challenge that Morgan did not want to take on. She just wanted to be normal sized again, then start her new journey from there.

When they felt they had a handle on the new tweaks in her genome associated with the size alteration, Morgan reported to a specialized medbay and sat down on one of the elevated beds that was minimal in its design. Just a platform with a thin, but soft pad that looked like a piece of metal until you touched it.

She swung her legs back and forth lightly, but with a high cadence, and it wasn’t because she was nervous. Morgan always felt the need to be in motion, even when sitting. Ninja skills weren’t her preferred avenue when it involved holding still, so she’d always be tapping, waggling, or swaying a little to defy the stillness.

That said, she was also worried. This kind of alteration was crazy, but Star Force had done it many times with Knights that didn’t like the upgrade, as well as with other cases involving races that were too large for some reason or the other and needed reduction for health reasons.

The medtechs weren’t in the room at the moment, nor was Wilson. Morgan was alone and having to wait…which she also didn’t like. If you were going to be reckless it was best to get on with it and not have to think about the stupidity of what you were about to do. You needed to go with it and own it, not have doubts. She’d already done her thinking earlier, and this was the logical path forward…but it was still stupid, and she’d pay for it afterward, but her fitness was already trashed, even if it had been replaced by a more capable newb body.

Morgan understood the opportunities that afforded, but it also annoyed her that it happened without her permission. All her fitness that she’d built up over 150,000 years was mostly wrecked, and she was at a very vulnerable transition point, but this was a moment she needed to pass through…even if the others thought she was more crazy than normal, for they all liked the size upgrade now that they had it.

So she was deviating from the group, and while that was a bit of a regret…as well as bailing after less than a year…she wasn’t going back to Human. Just a smaller Furyan. Though she was bailing on so many psionics she had unlocked and accumulated over the years, and that was the most scary thing about this.

Aaron had removed his Ensek long ago to make more cranial room for his Ikrid, and Ensek was one on the list she was losing as well as the upgrades for it, but that didn’t affect her body from the neck down, and the hard choice eventually came to losing almost all her battlemeld abilities save for the first. That meant she also lost Jumatran and Jumabren, which were both Jumat abilities used in conjunction with another, and only with another, and she hated losing those most of all.

But in the end the survivalist skills of the other psionics were more important to her dueling capability than her battlemeld skills. The coordination of it she’d keep, but all the other boosts that went with it she was getting rid of to make room for the upgraded Furyan Jumat tissue that she was not going sacrifice in the downgrade…rather it was going to pile up to even greater concentration in her smaller body.

All her new abilities she was keeping, including the curious foot pads that she and 6 of the others had developed. They were a buildup of cells on the soles of their feet, but they didn’t seem to do anything. They weren’t too good for abrasion, and were located just beneath the skin, making her foot strikes even more unnatural when running and doing agility work. Without knowing why they were there she didn’t want to remove them, but so far no one had a clue what they were for, just that the genetic coding in it was screwy and not fully capable of being mapped out.

Shrinking it wasn’t going to be a problem, for that part had already been deciphered, but it still bugged her that a lot of her body had unknown factors in it…not stuff that might pop up in the future, but stuff that was here now and nobody knew why.

So this wasn’t just a gamble in terms of size reduction, for what if she needed the larger body for something else that was unknown.

The door finally opened and Wilson walked in along with a quartet of medtechs, one of which was carrying a vial of liquid and another an armband.

“About time,” Morgan chastised them.

“Needed one small modification,” Wilson said, taking the vial from the medtech and handing it to Morgan. “Drink up, Alice.”

Morgan looked at the small tag attached that simply read, ‘DRINK ME’ on it.

Rather than laugh or frown, Morgan actual shed a couple tears recognizing the reference and realizing this was the moment.

“I changed my mind,” she said, looking up at Wilson. “Keep me unconscious until it’s over.”

He nodded, then put a hand on her large shoulder. “This is right for you.”

“Let’s get it over with,” she said, popping the plug in the vial off then tipping it up and drinking all of the nearly liter-sized tube of murky liquid in one long draw, using her Lachka to swipe out the last few drops inside at the end, then she tossed it onto the floor and laid back face up on the bed as one of the medtechs came up and put the linkage armband on her that would allow the supersized Regenerator located in the wall direct physical access to her.

It would both remove excess material as it was peeled off and dumped into her blood and lymph stream for excretion, as well as provide the necessary molecules for the new growth that had to be added to stitch together parts where things would be removed or to strengthen smaller parts that now had to pull more of a load.

The machine made the connection instantly, but when the medtechs told it to render her unconscious warning lights popped up, drawing Wilson’s attention.

“Your newfound powers are resisting the mental intervention,” he said, glancing down at her as he kept his hand on her shoulder, and would until she was thoroughly out. “You’re going to have to lower your internal shields and let it do what it needs to.”

Morgan blew out a breath, closing her eyes and committing to this no matter what happened. She wasn’t going to live as a giant and have smaller opponents dance around her in combat because her reflexes were dulled by the extra mass.

Slowly she let herself become vulnerable, with all the stuff in her head spilling out into her conscious mind that she’d kept bottled up. More tears followed, but she didn’t care. She was the Master Chief now, and his mission wasn’t to do anything…just survive.

The medtechs were going to take far better care of her than his augmentation butchers had, so it was just a matter of surrendering to the change that would lead her to where she wanted to be. She didn’t have to put any effort into it, just pass time.

Morgan felt her mind slipping and didn’t fight it. She became stressed in the head, then her vision of it eclipsed and her senses cut out almost entirely.

“She’s not going all the way under,” one of the medtechs said a few minutes later, “but she’s close.”

“Give it time,” Wilson urged, monitoring her as well through his physical connection. “Dropping her defenses isn’t natural.”

“We can keep her at this level throughout, it’s just not optimal.”

“Patience,” Wilson reminded them, sensing an unraveling inside her very diminished mind. She was fighting this, but she was winning…he could feel it…and after a few more minutes she let go completely, and the Regenerator was able to assert full control over her body and keep her unaware of what was happening as the liquid she drank spread throughout her organic tissue.

“We’re in now,” the medtech confirmed, and Wilson finally let go of her shoulder and pulled out a chair from a wall compartment, having it unfold next to the head of her bed. “This is going to take days.”

“I know,” he said, sitting down and just staring at her. “I’m going to stay until the transformation starts.”

“It already is,” the medtech said as her cells began uploading the new genetic instructions in the liquid, bonding to each cell and creating a temporary addition to the chromosomes that would coordinate the size reduction that was not called for via training or any other natural effect. “She’s the first Archon, isn’t she?”

“First with all the Psionics, and first of her new race.”

“Her new race is still mostly Human, just…”

“Super Human now,” Wilson finished, making it clear in his tone he wasn’t interested in idle talk. “Any flags?”

“Nothing yet. It’s taking smoothly. More so than a Knight reduction.”

“Good,” Wilson said, half expecting that…and half expecting her body to outright reject it if it matched her own stubbornness. “Good…”

8 days later…

Morgan groggily realized her body hurt as she tried to wiggle around in bed and turn over onto her shoulder…at which point she realized she wasn’t in her own bed, and from there her mind began to claw its way to consciousness rapidly.

She managed to roll over onto her right arm, then felt so tired she flopped back down on her belly…except the bed wasn’t wide enough and her body only half hit, with her falling off the edge only to have someone catch her and lift her back up before her eyes finally cracked open.

The Archon looked around, blinking heavily as if the light hurt her, and the heavy hand on her right thigh was the first thing that came into focus. She followed it up the arm until she saw a blurry blob that slowly resolved into Wilson’s face.

“Whhhhaaatt?” she groaned, as if her body wasn’t fully responding to her commands.

“Easy, Morgan. You made it. It’s over. You’re tiny again.”

The blinking increased, until she finally got her eyes working, then she looked up into Wilson’s face unmoving. “Ouch.”

“You’re at Point Zero, sweetheart. Take it slow and build. It’s all uphill from here. No more going backwards.”

Her head finally moved enough to look down at her body…which was laying inside very baggy clothes that no longer fit her. “Let me see.”

“You can’t move, can you?” Wilson asked.

“No. Everything is raw. If I move…”

“Easy, I understand. Give your Haemra time to identify and work on it. Focus on activating it.”

“She shouldn’t be in pain at all with the Regenerator,” the medtech said, furiously flipping through diagnostic screens.

Wilson reached over and pulled the armband off, which drew looks of disbelief from the medtechs. “Her Haemra is better, and the Regenerator only knows familiar physiology. Hers is new. It won’t work as well until it has a good baseline.”

“Possibly, but the amount of pain she’s suggest…” he said, getting cut off by a hand gesture from Wilson.

“Concentrate, Morgan,” he whispered. “Clear the fog first, then remind your body it belongs to you, and it will reconfigure to your liking, not the universe’s.”

That seemed to shake her more awake, and when her eyes closed he knew she was getting a handle on it even without trying to use his Ikrid and hack into her nervous system.

When she opened her eyes again, he saw recognition, but still pain.

“Better,” she announced. “Take my clothes off…so I don’t have to. I want to see.”

“Cut them off,” he told the nearest medtech. “Don’t move her legs.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want to give her a reason to be mad at you later?” he said almost humorously.

“As you wish,” he relented, digging out a tool from a nearby wall panel that served as a hidden cabinet, then as Wilson pulled off her already too big of shoes with his telekinesis, the medtech ran the device up her socks and gently pulled the pieces off without moving her foot.

He preceded up her pants and pulled those away, laying them out on either side and not trying to pull them out from under her. He moved up to her shirt and got it all off with the help of Wilson, then hesitated until Morgan glared at him…then he preceded to cut away her underwear as well, leaving her laying naked as she was propped up on one elbow looking down at her very pale legs that seemed to have lost what tan she’d had before. Now she was almost albino…and a scrawny one at that.

“You lost a lot of muscle,” Wilson commented. “It will take time to rebuild it all, but it will be Furyan muscle, and you will no longer be limited as you were before.”

Morgan started to cry again, with sobs this time, and each time she convulsed the pain rippled down her, but Wilson could tell she didn’t care. She was so relieved he was surprised at her reaction.

“Better?” he asked.

“Better,” she confirmed, slowly raising her left hand and running it over her vagina and her abdomen experimentally. “Is it gone?”

“Your uterus was removed as requested,” the medtech answered before Wilson could. “But your ovaries are intact to preserve your hormone levels and egg production.”

“What’s my ambrosia production level?” she asked, referencing the new tissue that was supposed to replace the pointless reproductive organ that she’d never use.

“Currently 81 times the average of the other trailblazers.”

Morgan snickered, glancing at Wilson as she continued to focus on her Haemra as it sought to figure out what the pain was from, track it down, and heal it. “Call me a cheater.”

“You’re a cheater,” he admitted, also with a smile.

“Damn right,” she said. “Help me sit up.”

Wilson did as requested, eliciting a groan from her, but it left Morgan able to look down at her body with a sagging head, but no need for support from him.

“I feel like a puppet with her strings cut.”

“It’ll pass with time. Be patient, reckless one.”

“Oh I’m going slow, trust me.”

“For about ten minutes,” he admonished, drawing another smile from her. “Try and stretch it to 20…please.”

“Why is my tan gone?”

“Your skin was reset to defaults that didn’t exist, so without a need for it you didn’t develop the adaptation to the UV light. You will as needed going forward.”

“Factory reset, huh?” she asked, bringing her hands up in front of her dipped face and flexing her fingers slowly…and seeing the tiny digits again brought tears to her eyes. She had her body back instead of that super-sized monstrosity. “I think Ginsi could take me now.”

“A stiff wind could take you now,” Wilson said, walking around and kneeling next to her bed so he could look up into her face. “I’m serious about going slow. This isn’t Human you, it’s Furyan you, and that’s a new playbook you have to write.”

“I know. Thank you. My nightmare is over.”

“Was there a problem with your larger body I wasn’t aware of,” the head medtech asked.

“Yeah…it didn’t fit the person inside,” she said, wiggling her toes and finding that hurt more than anything, with shots of pain running up her legs each time she applied tendon pressure to those even shorter digits. “What shoe size am I now?”

“Furyan 7.”

“Furyan?” she asked.

“The foot pads altered the height of your feet, so we had to add a new race designation. If you put a Human shoe on that’s not custom fitted, it will be tight vertically.”

“I haven’t wore standard shoes since the V’kit’no’sat War,” she admitted, for everything provided to the Archons, and especially the trailblazers, was custom fitted for their exact body sizes.

“Still horny?” Wilson asked.

“Thankfully no.”

“It may come back later when the pain goes away. A lot of problems will. They’re just suppressed for now,” he warned.

“Noted,” she said, trying to wiggle her toes again and searching out the pain so she could manually target the Haemra on the issue…which she got after three more wiggles, and the pain in her right leg began to bleed away. “Give me some time alone.”

“Don’t fall,” Wilson warned, standing up and leaning over her head as the medtechs left the room. He kissed her on the forehead. “Welcome back, Number 1.”

A smile broke out on her face from ear to ear. “I’ve got a lot of work to do to earn that again.”

“Work yes,” Wilson agreed as he walked away. “I’ll have your first workouts ready when you are.”

He left her then, and Morgan was alone with a few empty beds and walls of equipment. That and her pale white body that she could barely move without racking herself in pain…but this is exactly where she wanted to be, rather than running around in someone else’s body and carrying that burden with her everywhere she went.

She might be back to newb status, but Morgan was Morgan again, and the rest could and would be taken care of with time and training.

And she had ample opportunity for both.

But that didn’t stop her from trying to swing her legs off the edge of the bed…resulting in a cascade of pain that made her jerk in response…and that jerk threw her off the edge and onto the floor.

Except she didn’t hit. She managed to activate her now Furyan Yen’mer, and while it also hurt, the pain was less than in her muscles, leaving her floating a few inches off the floor in a crumpled superman pose that she soon straightened out and just held the hover there, finding the lack of physical contact preferable to the pressure of the bed on her legs.

She closed her eyes again and triggered her Haemra everywhere she felt pain, and continued to wiggle here and there in naked flight searching out the points within her body that were waving the biggest warning flags...

9

October 18, 154931

Huev Lio System (Olloplo Kingdom)

Kikiko

In the outer region of the galaxy, in the gap between the Perseus and Cygnus galactic arms where the stellar density was very low, there were still a scattering of star systems with long jumplines between them, making them hard to get to unless you had the more advanced engines and navigational equipment. Within the Star Force network that wasn’t an issue, but the Heuv Lio System was not Star Force owned, rather a quiet neighbor that kept to itself and was so far out of the way that it barely ever saw a Star Force ship pass through, let alone come into orbit of the one and only inhabited planet in the system, the marginally habitable desert world of Kikiko.

All water on the planet was subsurface, as were most of the cities with little top portions poking up into the sandstorms and scorching heat like snorkels…and today those snorkels spotted not one, but 12 Star Force Warship-class starships arriving into low orbit disgorging a swarm of landing craft.

Those craft were escorted by aerial fighters and gunships all the way down to the snorkels of all 81 major cities on the planet as well as some of the minor ones. No return fire came until they were nearly to ground…and when it did, it wasn’t from the native Kiio population whose weaponry was minimal, but rather from one of the minor cities in the form of topaz-colored beam weaponry that burned through several of the Star Force dropships on approach before the others immediately broke off and ran for distance as more were targeted and downed.

But no one died, for the leading dropships were decoys being flown by remote to draw out any return fire that the Chixzon might have around one of their clandestine bases. One that Star Force had never even come close to finding, given how good they were at hiding, but the assault fleet had been given coordinates and the basic layout by an unidentified source whose information was now confirmed. Few in the galaxy had the technology to produce Ardent weapon batteries, and the Chixzon had acquired the technology from the V’kit’no’sat before they had joined Star Force.

It was assumed they’d stolen it rather than entered into any agreement, and for millennia the Chixzon had wheedled Star Force through intermediaries trying to weaken and take them down through everything other than a direct assault, but they’d never shown themselves through all that time, and since the Hadarak surge had begun Star Force hadn’t been able to track any activity back to them.

Which now made sense, for the informant also stated that the Chixzon were responsible for initiating the Hadarak surge by baiting it out of them through a false activation signal, and that they had a network of repositories in deep space where they were collecting individuals who agreed to work for them in exchange for protection as the galaxy burned…and this world was one of the gateways into that hidden network that the informant had no location data for.

That meant this invasion was more than just about confronting the Chixzon directly for the first time in Star Force history. It was also about obtaining information regarding the location of the others and their deep space habitats.

As soon as the ground batteries opened fire the warships responded, finding their first few salvos blocked by surface shielding, but the Chixzon hadn’t invested enough resources in the planet to defend against a Star Force fleet…only to quickly destroy any local traffic if necessary to keep their anonymity a secret. Now though, they knew they were found out the moment the warships arrived, so the exposing of their weapons was a last ditch effort to offer what little resistance they could as they probably went about erasing files and destroying whatever links to the rest of their race they now had exposed.

That’s why as soon as the orbital bombardment cleaned the surface, the real dropships sped down to the landing pads and a few other places that were not designated entrances and disgorged the first wave…which was composed of hundreds of Archons, all of which were Saiyan level, for two reasons.

One, the Chixzon were probably the most dangerous foe left in the non-Hadarak portion of the galaxy. And two, if they were destroying information, they needed the first wave to have the maximum speed possible.

That’s why they all hit the ground while blonde, though you couldn’t see it inside their full armor as they ran in a blur out of the lowering ramps before they fully touched the ground and moved to entrances and ducts and any other way down while a few more decided to create their own passageways using explosives.

The Chixzon didn’t have any defenses at the city top…other than to blow it up. A series of detonations took out chunks of infrastructure and collapsed others, but none were targeting the Archons specifically. They were trying to block the easy routes and delay the invaders’ arrival.

That had been expected, and soon a few Saiyans found ways down and the others responded, flocking to their call and moving like frenzied ants below ground where they immediately stunned any non-Chixzon they came across…and there were a lot that weren’t Kiio…and left them to be rounded up by the later waves, for this planet was becoming Star Force property immediately, knowing how the Chixzon manipulated their business partners into situations where they could not exist without them.

That meant it was safer for the Kiio if Star Force made sure they were taken care of directly rather than leaving them to their own fate after plucking out the Chixzon, even if that’s not what they wanted. But that’s not what the Saiyans were here for. They had come for the Chixzon and only the Chixzon.

Lower and lower they went, scanning with sensors, telepathy, and some with Essence every room, hallway, and interior space out to the bedrock and further in one giant network of battlemeld linked individuals that operated as the most advanced hive mind in the galaxy…even if it was just a temporary one.

First contact came 18 levels down in a stairwell as a fleeing Chixzon was caught in transit. He knew the Saiyans were coming before they got into view, and stopped just short around a hairpin in the downward stairs, jutting his shoulder appendages backward and activating the lightsaber-like cutting surface on the ends as he tried to jab the first person to catch up to him as they blindly came around the corner.

But the Saiyans weren’t blind, and could see through the walls with their Pefbar as the first one easily ducked underneath the double jab and wrapped his arms around the Chixzon’s rock-like torso and used his momentum to push the monster further down with a twist that slammed him into the next landing below…with the Saiyan ending on top and emitting the tier 4 psionic Takbri, which was a biological stun pulse, at point blank range on the unarmored Chixzon.

The green glow from his appendages that were cutting into the nearby wall as they hung limp faded back to neutral black as he was rendered unconscious, then another Saiyan moved up to the pair in a blur and threw several technological stun blasts into him just to be sure as he and the others moved on downward while the single Saiyan that had grabbed the Chixzon was going to stay with him until the second wave came through to properly claim and contain him.

But that didn’t mean the Saiyan had to be idle, and while his prisoner was unconscious he tapped into his mind and began to search around for any and every bit of useful data, copying the memories using his tier 2 psionic Do’shi, then redundantly logging them in the mechanical memory of his armor as he mentally transferred them to preserve integrity in case he was in too much of a hurry and left out or corrupted something, knowing that there were automatic suicide nodules in the Chixzon’s body that would kill him if he was taken prisoner.

And there were, but they hadn’t been activated, so maybe they weren’t automatic if they just passed out.

As the Saiyan recorded data mentally, he used his armor’s Regenerator to reach into the Chixzon’s body and go after those nodules and delete them…and to his surprise there wasn’t a backup in place to prevent it. Within a few minutes he had them all destroyed and no other biological interference was popping up as a team of Clan Saber Esquires finally caught up to him.

“Take him,” the Saiyan said, and when a Calavari reached down to pick him up he took off in a blur past several other Clansmen, running across the walls at some points to get by them as he moved to the head of the line and raced to catch up to the others that he was still in battlemeld contact with, and he knew that several of the Chixzon were already dead through their own efforts and not Star Force’s.

That meant they had to continue moving quick if they were to capture any more, but the few secrets this Saiyan…whose identification was Nathen-2562…had managed to pull out were already transmitted out through the battlemeld indicating where some of the sensitive technology in the city was located…along with the Chixzon city sitting in the bedrock below it that was going to be hard to get to.

That was when one of the warships in orbit opened fire again with a cutting beam, vaporizing sand and rock as it cored down through the surface alongside the Kiio city until it was just above where the Chixzon city was supposed to be, for it wasn’t showing up on any sensors. Down through that explosively evacuated conduit a number of mining drones were sent, along with a few that went down partway, then chewed into the side of the chamber to link up to the Saiyans in the city.

Nathen got there first, as the others were still engaged with the Chixzon up here, and he slid past the mining drones and fell down the main conduit all the way to the bottom where he flew to a stop and dropped in a hero landing on the semi-molten rock as the drones dug 5 additional new tunnels that were only a few meters wide each as they searched for the city that was supposed to be nearby.

The Saiyan reached out with his senses, Essence-enhanced them, and found the minds of the Chixzon nearby…which he redirected the mining drones towards and rode one of the small conduits behind one, floating above the outstream of chewed up rock that was being transmitted via shield conduit to a collection terminal at the bottom of the main shaft, then being elevated through it by other support drones, otherwise they’d be digging and dumping the rubble in the very pathways they were trying to open up.

Nathen sensed his drone getting close, but none of the Chixzon were aware of its exact location or they chose not to be there when it bored through the stealth sheathing that surrounded the hidden city and the drone popped out into some sort of support infrastructure, tearing through a myriad of equipment that had to be signaling alarms as it was destroyed.

The Saiyan pushed by it as soon as he had an opening and took off in a blur of Saiyan 2 speed and strength as he shot and punched his way through the first door in his path, delaying him 4.3 seconds, after which he was mostly in the clear as he hunted down the nearest Chixzon minds enroute to the mainframe he had seen in the other’s memory.

Nathen took two more down with his Saven psionic, which was the equivalent of a mental flash bomb he transmitted into their minds, followed up by a quick 4 or 5 series of punches into their bodies with his fists and the corresponding stun blasts leaping off his wrist-located weapon packages. He had to delay enough to disable them, but couldn’t waste time, for the mainframe held a lot of information the Chixzon knew they had to destroy, but its redundancy was critical to them, so they’d built it without the ability to delete everything in a single button press.

Nathen came across 3 more Chixzon and subdued the first, but the next two came in a pairing that actually put up a fight, delaying him another 26 seconds, but after that it was just a matter of running and busting through doors until he got within telepathic range of the Chixzon in the mainframe…which he then threw every Psionic he had at them to buy a few more seconds before he could get inside.

Saven, Orren, Ju’nu’bo, Wequay, Saniso, Leechas, Kop’ni, and Vado when he got close enough. He had to distract and suppress the 9 of them long enough for him to physically get there as they were wiping one memory cube after another with alarming speed.

His intervention stopped that, causing one of them to lash out violently with his shoulder spikes and accidentally cleave the arm off another as his vision was no longer working due to Nathen’s intervention. All the Chixzon were telepathic, so they had some resistance to his powers, but Ikrid was far superior, and with all the other upgrades that came in the other psionics there was no way one could resist the mind of an advanced Archon…but hacking the minds of multiple targets was very hard, which was why Saven and some of the battlemeld technics were designed to interfere with multiple targets without actually hacking into their brains.

They were a ‘throw in your face’ attack that didn’t require any follow-up, and Nathen managed to get all but one of the Chixzon in a state of disarray, but the last saw or felt what was happening to the others and just started trashing all the equipment within reach and not bothering to actually delete anything.

It took Nathen another 18 seconds to break inside, at which point his head was hurting from the sustained attacks on the now 13 Chixzon in the mainframe, with more coming in to assist.

The Saiyan didn’t have time to take them all prisoner. The information in their minds would be valuable, but the records might be more so. Plus, they had time to engage their sabotage nodules and there was no way he could use his Regenerator on more than one at a time unless he could lay them next to each other and pull some shit that way.

But in the middle of combat, with him barely keeping them distracted from trashing the equipment, deleting more files, or someone bringing a bomb with them and just shredding everything…

There was only one way to deal with this situation, and that was the fastest way possible.

Nathen ignited both death saber blades in his armor, with the flat, glowing, and screeching energy weapons glowing Star Force blue popping out just over the top of his hands from his elevated wrist gauntlets and extending straight as if an extension of his forearm bones, for they couldn’t rotate or twist. They were locked in place.

The Saiyan fired several stun blasts at the Chixzon manning the consoles as he leapt at his nearest active targets in a blur, then started engaging them with lethal intent in mind as another three came out of a doorway and jumped toward him…

10

Nathen moved faster than them, thought faster, but there was only so much he could do and process in a tenth of a second, so as more reinforcements poured in and was surrounded with enemies clawing at him with their glowing green cutting spikes, he used his Ubven and dropped a restrainment field over everyone within range…then he moved through it as if it weren’t even there and wove his way through the temporarily trapped enemies and back towards the free ones near the consoles.

Those that turned to engage him he sliced and diced, but the ones who did not he shot with multiple stun blasts, for their biology was resistant to it. Fortunately Star Force weapons were adjustable, and he amped up the power level enough that it would kill other races, but would take the Chixzon down with several shots each.

They might not be fully out, and they’d have time to kill themselves if they weren’t, but he wasn’t going to kill them if all they were doing was destroying data…even if it lost him some of that data. But he wasn’t going to lose all of it.

The Saiyan blew out a Jumat ring just over the consoles so it wouldn’t damage them further, knocking down the tall Chixzon who were working at them and giving him a little more time to get around and render them all unconscious before his Ubven field eventually failed and the aggressive ones were free again.

An energy blast whizzed towards him, but Nathen saw it coming in time to twist his left shoulder out of the way as one of the arriving Chixzon had a rifle…until the Saiyan telekinetically ripped it out of his hands and flew it into a quick death saber slash. After that it was back to slice and dice, though some of the Chixzon turned to the equipment again.

It took several minutes, but by the end of it Nathen was standing alone over several stunned Chixzon, the pieces of dozens that were cut up and strewn across the floor dripping blood out of their cauterized flesh, and a room-full of equipment that looked like a pack of metal-eating beavers had gotten to it, but at least some consoles were still visibly functioning.

First priority was the stunned ones, and Nathen got to them, shot them redundantly to keep them out, then established telepathic links to them all simultaneously so he could monitor them as he used his armor’s Regenerator to two at a time remove the sabotage nodules inside their bodies and secure his prisoners.

Before he finished another Saiyan arrived, and he instructed him to get to work on the terminals with a mere thought, for they were all still battlemeld-linked…at least those in range, and when they came back into range they automatically relinked without hardly having to think about it.

So Nathen knew as soon as the other Saiyan began hacking in that he had been somewhat successful, for there was a multitude of data files available, and in exactly the format that Star Force was familiar with the Chixzon using thanks to Nefron. They hadn’t changed a thing in all these years…

Grand Admiral Han Tyver watched from the bridge of his personal flagship, The Lady of the Lake, as the Saiyan first wave teams quickly secured all the major cities on the planet, as well as few unknown ones discovered once they were on the ground. From there they moved on to all the rest, with the second and third waves doing most of the leg work. The Saiyans were here for the Chixzon, and it seemed they were not spread across the entire planet, but rather only in a few pockets in the public cities and one hidden one buried even further beneath the surface than the Kiio ones.

It had been raided and secured, with some 3,291 prisoners taken and a partial data theft of their main computers. It was estimated that the Chixzon had managed to delete or destroy about 30% of it, but currently the prisoners’ minds were being searched for the most pertinent data, with follow up teams to do a full cataloging of their secrets before they were even allowed to wake up.

The prisoner count from across the planet added another 832, with 93 more having died in combat and some 24,012 dead from self-inflicted damage. It was clear that they knew they weren’t going to escape, and rather than try and survive most of them opted to die before their minds could be raided for information…save for 4 who actually surrendered. And it was those 4 that the Grand Admiral requested be sent up to his otherwise normal Warship-class jumpship that he chose to lead his fleets from rather than a donut-shaped command ship.

The Saiyans agreed to send them up…after removing their sabotage nodules and doing mental scans to confirm they knew little about where the rest of the Chixzon were…but Tyver was interested in knowing why they had surrendered. And what interested a Grand Admiral was not something to dismiss off hand.

The Human walked into one of the four separate holding cells, intent to talk to them separately, with him separated from the larger, nearly all black Chixzon who was situated behind an energy shield powerful enough to stop even the advanced cutting technology of their biology, though there were four guards in the room as well in case he did somehow find a way to break through.

“What is your name?” Tyver asked, clasping his hands behind the small of his back two feet away from the shield barrier as he looked up at the gargoyle-like face before him.

“Muen-ti.”

“Why did you surrender when the others chose to kill themselves?”

“I wish to live.”

“A good reason. Why didn’t they?”

“It is not our way to subjugate.”

“Why the change of mind, in your case?”

“I wish to live.”

“And how do you see that life progressing in the future?”

“I will be taken to one of your indoctrination centers and held there for the rest of my life or until I convert to your ways. My life as a Chixzon is over. I wish to start a new one, even if it is in Star Force.”

Tyver studied his subtle body language for a moment. “You didn’t have a choice previously?”

“We do not. Chixzon act as one. I am dead to them, and wish that they do not find I am alive. They will kill me if they can.”

“Not in our custody they won’t. Can you tell me where the others are?”

“I do not know the specific locations, but most are on roaming ships designed to last until the Hadarak purge the galaxy, then the Chixzon will rebuild afterward. At least, that was the plan. They did not anticipate your level of resistance. The Chixzon empire will not rise again.”

“And you wish to switch to the winning side?”

“I wish to choose my own path, eventually.”

“Why not come to us earlier?”

“How? I had no ship. I was never alone. The others would not have allowed it. And even mild suspicion of treason is investigated and punished. I never considered it until now, when the option presented itself. Am I wrong about your intentions for me?”

“They are accurate. I’ve been told that it was the Chixzon that started the Hadarak purge. How did you do that?”

“Knowledge gained from Hadarak experimentation. I do not know the specifics. I was hatched from the first generation that contained genetic knowledge. I do not have the same knowledge of past eras.”

The Grand Admiral raised an eyebrow. “Why were you not all given the same starting point?”

“It is not our way. Rebirth demanded maximized odds. After that was accomplished, reproduction returned to original methods. Knowledge and power must be earned, not gifted.”

“And it bothers you that so many were gifted it, without deserving that power.”

“You can see it in my mind as well?”

“No, I’m not telepathic. Just observant.”

“I did not think Naval members were, only Archons and Mavericks.”

“And a few others, but you are mostly correct. We restrict power to those who earn it as well. And you can begin your new path by earning your fresh start rather than simply being gifted it by those who agreed to accept your surrender. Tell me something of value I do not already know.”

“Are your mind readers not thorough?”

“Knowledge and wisdom are not the same things, nor are memories and skills. Tell me something of value.”

“They envy you.”

“Why?”

“You have surpassed them, and proven their methodology is inferior. You have also taken their Uriti and made them more powerful through training. All our efforts are on biology and control, not upliftment. They had assumed it was negligible. They were wrong.”

“Have you always thought of ‘them’ and not ‘us?’”

“I did not choose to be born Chixzon, nor did I choose to be born into a race of failures. I can do better on my own.”

“Do better by giving me some knowledge I can use.”

The Chixzon thought hard for nearly a minute of silence, then his eyes flared green for a moment as his head came up. “There is a planet they wish to go to, but cannot access. It holds ancient knowledge that we were supposed to retrieve after being reborn, but many died in multiple attempts and we were told it was untenable. No one knows what it contains, but we were tasked with going there. I can tell you where it is.”

“What is guarding it?” Tyver asked warily.

“We do not know. Those who went in never returned. It is in a gas giant, on a floating construct hidden within. It is easy to get there, but nothing came back out. When we sent drones, they came back with images of the dead on the exterior entryways. They were each cut in four pieces. One line down the center, the other horizontal across the waist. Each of the dead was exactly the same. No battle wounds were visible, and whenever the drones tried to pass the archway they were disabled. It is a death trap, but we were tasked to go there. Yet another failure.”

“What system?”

“Your records call it Shi go Zu Mata’ki, in the…”

“…Jumangi Kingdom,” Tyver finished. “That’s an Oso’lon world, is it not?”

“One of their degenerate splinters now. Previously it was inhabited by smugglers. Neither used the gas giant, nor are they away of the construct. It is hidden within 167 of your miles. You must be within the atmosphere to locate it if you do not otherwise have the coordinates.”

“Thank you, Muen-ti. I will arrange a special indoctrination slot for you. One away from the other Chixzon who surrendered.”

That brought a visible shiver. “There were others?”

“Three more, who I am to speak with shortly. It seems you were not the only one dissatisfied with their former path. Do not worry, I will not tell them your name nor will you ever see them again. Your path forward will be a solitary one where you can leave the Chixzon behind.”

“May I make a request?”

“You may ask.”

“You have many Protovic in your empire. They are Chixzon who were not allowed to become Chixzon again. If I prove myself worthy, will you change me back into their form?”

Tyver raised an eyebrow. “You wish the downgrade?”

“I wish to be free of the Chixzon oppression, and the controls they set into our minds. It took a great deal of effort to crack them previously, but much remains. I would give up my enhanced abilities to be a free-minded Protovic gladly.”

“I will remember that request. I am not sure how easy such a transformation is to do, but since you are the same race in different forms, it should be possible…if you earn it.”

“I will.”

“I will speak to you once more before you leave the ship,” Tyver said as he spun about and left the chamber, but he didn’t go directly to the next one. Instead he went to review the ship’s navigational database and see what information there was on Shi go Zu Mata’ki. That place, nor that name, hadn’t come up in any of the Saiyan reports as yet, though at the moment Tyver’s task and theirs was the same.

As soon as they got position data for other Chixzon locations he would be taking his personal warfleet out after them, on Kara’s orders. Nobody knew deep space better than Clan Ghostblade, and if the informant’s information proved true about the roaming ships, they would have to be hunted down quickly before word could leak out that their anonymity had been compromised.

So as soon as the Saiyans dug out enough information, Tyver would be off hunting, but this secret facility that even the Chixzon could not access was intriguing, and perhaps more important. He wanted to go after it himself, but knew he would be occupied in the coming years with the Chixzon hunt, so after finding nothing to back it up in the ship’s database he transferred the information to a small courier ship and tasked it with immediately returning to the Star Force comm grid so the data could be sent to Kara-317, and from there she’d know how best to deal with it…

“And then what?” Paul asked as he sat on the foot of his bed, soaked head to toe in sweat from a recent run that Kara had done with him, and beat him in, despite his own Saiyan burst at the end, though she had also cheated and Essence-enhanced her body to do it.

“And then she said you looked like an Avatar reject,” Kara said, no longer dripping herself as her Vorch’nas had already soaked up all the excess sweat and recycled it.

Paul glanced down at the faint hint of blue in his skin that was currently streaked with red from the stress of their workout. “She’s not totally wrong,” he admitted as Kara’s face suddenly went blank, with her staring at his knees…but he knew she wasn’t really looking at him, rather processing something mentally.

It only lasted a moment, then she glanced up at him. “News from the Chixzon front,” she said, having gotten the update on her Vorch’nas. “Prisoners taken, other locations discovered and the fleet is dispatched. Four Chixzon surrendered, and one of them provided something a bit scary.”

“What?” Paul asked as she raised her arm and produced a hologram of a particular star system.

“A location the Chixzon were tasked to go to retrieve something after they were reborn. They tried and failed multiple times, with all who entered being killed. No one ever returned. They were all cut into four precise sections, and even the drones who viewed their bodies laid out on the arrival platform of a station buried inside a gas giant…”

“Do not go there,” Azoro said, appearing beside Kara, though only in Paul’s mind. “You are not ready. It is a remnant of far greater power.”

Paul held up a hand to stop Kara. “Is it from their ancestors?”

“No. This is something far more dangerous. When the time comes you will go there, and you alone. But that is not now nor in the near future. Do not send your people. They will not be able to gain access, and that place has the ability to kill starships if need be. Do not approach, do not monitor. Stay away from it for now.”

Paul’s head hurt from the forced conversation, but Azoro didn’t linger after delivering the warning, and this time it was Kara’s turn to look at him oddly, for he’d been speaking aloud.

The trailblazer touched his fingers to his forehead, trying to massage the hurt away and failing. He’d had a long conversation with Azoro three days ago, and was still burnt out from it, now add this.

“Yoda says don’t go into the dark cave until later when I’m ready.”

“He knows what it is?”

“Seems to, and he’s adamant that none of us go there. Says even starships are at risk of being destroyed. He says later, when I’m ready, I’m to go alone…presumably with him tagging along Yuumi style.”

“So there’s stuff in our galaxy like this that we could trip over at any moment?” she asked incredulously. “Why not draw us a map of everything he knows to be safe?”

“Probably because we have plenty to do already, and there’s no need to scare us with the monsters next door,” Paul said, giving up on the head massage that never seemed to work. “But it seems I’ve got a long term date in the future. Hide that information until later. Don’t need curious people poking around and getting killed.”

“What if people find it anyway, who aren’t looking for it?”

“Fine, put a deep patrol in the system, but stay away from that gas giant. And if anyone does go there, use drones to shoo them off, but don’t attract attention to it with your presence.”

“I’ll have Ghostblade take care of it. We’re discrete.”

“No sneaking in,” Paul said, pointing a finger at her.

Kara raised her hands in a symbol of sincerity. “I promise. No games.”

“Take care of it,” he said, standing up and heading for his shower booth.

“Want some company?” Kara asked.

“With Azoro watching?” Paul shot back.

“Didn’t ask to screw you. Just asked if you wanted some company. Bet I can massage that headache out with some telepathy if you let me, and that waterfall you call a shower is big enough for 4 people.”

“I don’t think it works that way, but you’re welcome to try. Why didn’t you ask before…” he said, realizing the reason.

Kara shrugged innocently.

“Come on. Just don’t tell the others. I get enough jokes from them as it is.”

The Jinx smiled and followed him into the rear compartment of his quarters, stripping her clothes off as she went, then Kara followed Paul inside the now larger shower compartment meant for his bigger body, except it wasn’t a tube as much as it was a room of its own that would fill up into a swimming pool when needed, but usually Paul just used the waterfall feature and sat down on the bench underneath it…or so Kara had seen watching him from the outside on occasion when he took too long in there and missed one of their scheduled meetings. He’d developed a bad habit of losing track of time ever since his Saiolum breakthrough.

Paul turned on the waterfall and sat down underneath it while Kara triggered the rain function for the ceiling that added a light sprinkle to the rest of the room that slowly slicked down her hair as she leaned against the wall a few feet away from him. He opened up his now well-shielded Furyan mind and let her in, with Kara trying to work out the knots in his head that came from his contact with Azoro in addition to the actual damage, which she couldn’t heal but she could distract him from and get him to relax enough to stoke his own healing…but since the damage wasn’t totally physical, it didn’t always obey normal rules and was a constant, but light nuisance to him.

And while Kara was in his head giving him a telepathic massage, she also poked around into the memories of his conversation with Azoro to see exactly what he’d told Paul…

www.aerkijyr.com

Maty

1

April 2, 154956

Szequat System (Voku Capitol, Home One Kingdom)

Nergthen

Lord Hightower stood next to a very large red dragon in front of what he guessed were some 6 million Voku lining the courtyards and streets and every rooftop within view of the elevated platform he and their Elder were standing upon in the sky looking down on the city around the Zak’de’ron’s now deconstructed lair on the planet. The pullout had begun quicker than Star Force expected, with whatever had transpired inside the Neofan Temple between them and the dragons having resulted in a rush to relinquish their holdings and leave this galaxy.

So far the leaving hadn’t happened yet, but the near abandonment of their servant races was progressing quickly as they pulled back their leadership and retreated to their own worlds…which were also undergoing deconstruction, for it seemed the Zak’de’ron did not wish anyone to inherit their technology or structures. A cleansing of the galaxy of their presence was ongoing, and soon they would be reduced to nothing more than legend as they were when Star Force began, only this time of their own choosing rather than a nearly complete purge by the V’kit’no’sat.

The Voku here didn’t know this, but the red dragon speaking to them on their departure and how they were assigning Star Force to take care of them in their absence along with a lot of other half-truths was actually one of their lowest ranking members. The red scales were those of the adolescent, with the more mature ones already having abandoned the Voku and the other servant races. Fortunately they had coordinated with Star Force for the handover of them all simultaneously rather than just leaving and letting chaos ensue, but it was clear this Zak’de’ron had drawn the short straw and got to be the last to leave the ‘primitives’ behind, as they had been called by the Zak’de’ron in the meeting that Hightower had attended where the details of the handover were ironed out.

He and many other Monarchs had been there, for Director Davis had been planning for this for only two decades when they had assumed they would have hundreds of years, but the Zak’de’ron had not caught them off guard. Star Force was ready, and it was clear the Zak’de’ron no longer wanted to be here and were eager to disappear from their failed galactic domination and do something else…though that something else neither they nor the Neofan would speak of, citing it to be Bond of Resistance matters, and since Star Force refused to join, there would be no discussion of it other than how Star Force was going to supply the necessary Essence for the Zak’de’ron travel to another galaxy.

That handover wouldn’t take place until they were ready to leave, and Star Force would be there to witness it as a condition of the agreement. No, right now the dragons were pulling back and isolating themselves, and this one here was the last the Voku were ever going to see.

Lord Hightower, along with most of the other Monarchs, had decent telepathic abilities, and what he was sensing from the crowd was so strong even a novice could not have missed it. They were bound by duty, but there was immense sorrow at the Elders’ leaving of this planet, their race, and the galaxy as a whole. But there wasn’t a single voice, moan, or movement to be spotted. Every one of them was silent, still, and listening as the dragon’s amplified voice boomed across the otherwise silent landscape, speaking in the Voku’s native language.

Hightower had learned it in preparation for his assignment here, as had the other Monarchs going out to the thousands of servant races the Zak’de’ron had revealed themselves to have. And right about now they were all getting the same message.

The Elders were departing for another galaxy and putting Star Force in charge of affairs in this one at their direction…making it seem like this was all part of their plan when in fact it was abdication and abandonment, and Hightower wasn’t going to let the lies stand, no matter how much trouble that would make for him in the near future.

The dragon finished his explanation without a word of thanks or appreciation to the Voku for their loyal service. He simply ended with his order that Star Force orders be followed, and without even looking at Hightower he walked across the platform a few steps as his toe rings melted and covered his entire body with equally red armor, then he took flight with a flap of his huge wings and rocketed into the sky, heading for his ship in orbit and leaving the planet and the entire Voku race behind permanently.

“Prick,” Hightower whispered as he walked up towards the edge of the platform and looked down on all the Voku assembled, with not one of them moving as they waited for his orders, but he could feel their well-controlled despair waft over him, for even those who were not telepathic gave off certain energies in a very crude sense when strong emotion was present, and right now this city was choking with it even when Hightower did not intentionally try and search the minds below.

The Star Force Lord stood in his Monarch’s uniform with his personal armor concealed on his forearms beneath it, but a small rivulet poked up from beneath his collar as he mentally triggered it to produce a microphone linked to the platform’s transmission equipment and local speakers so he could address all here and across the planet, with copies of this historic event being transmitted out via great lag to all other Voku systems.

“I did not want to be here,” he admitted. “Leadership of your race should belong to Cal-com, previous Dafchor who was exiled by the Elders…who I will now refer to by their given name of Zak’de’ron. They sent him away because he started to ask questions they did not want to answer. He became too smart for their lies, and had to be silenced. I do not know what they told you about him, or if he is still known to you, but he should be the one returning here, for he is one of our Reclaimers, and they are tasked with reclaiming civilizations in decline and bringing them into Star Force, which is the very task before me.”

“But he refused. Not because he isn’t loyal to the Voku, but because he said you would not trust him. That your blind obedience to the Zak’de’ron, while somewhat meritous, would limit his effectiveness here, and that a new face would serve you better in your transition. I am that new face, but I will not harbor the Zak’de’ron propaganda. Cal-com said you were a strong people, so I will not coddle you. In order to carry out your duty as protectors of the galaxy, you must have the truth. Truth is not a luxury, it is a necessity. And this truth is going to hurt you more than you already have been by the Zak’de’ron leaving. I can feel your pain, but if I do not cut to the heart of the problem now, it will linger forever. I will not subject you to that, so we will face the harshness of the fact that he,” Hightower said, pointing in the direction of the now distant dragon, “is a liar.”

A ripple of more than thought started to muffle through the crowd, but Hightower new better than to react to them. They needed to react to him, and the faster he delivered this the better.

“The Zak’de’ron have done many good things in their history, but always for their own benefit. They have also done many bad things, also for their benefit. They do not care about honor. About right and wrong. They do not care about being the good guys or protectors of the galaxy…unless it is beneficial to them. They taught you, ironically, to be better than they were, because they needed protectors to serve them. But ultimately they did not deserve your loyalty, for they have betrayed you in many ways that the Bo’ja will tell you about, and I hereby order them to do so when asked.”

Hightower pointed down to a section of the largest courtyard before him, which was packed shoulder to shoulder so tightly he couldn’t see the ground they were standing on, but there in a different colored group were the Bo’ja…or at least some of them…as all had been returned to Voku worlds as part of the withdrawal agreement. The Zak’de’ron were not taking them with them anyway, but they had not been back to Voku territory in millennia, for once a Voku was elevated and transformed into a Bo’ja, they never came back. Leaving the Voku sucked dry of their best and brightest, only now to have them returned.

“Tell them what they ordered you to do. Tell them who and where you fought, and for what. Tell them how the Zak’de’ron used the Voku as breeding stock to produce Bo’ja, and how Cal-com was sent away because he wished to do more than oversee that stock. The Zak’de’ron cultivated the Voku into protectors, only to reduce you to a training group to sift out who was and wasn’t worthy to become Bo’ja. Tell them. Tell them everything.”

“But I will tell you what they cannot. The Zak’de’ron are leaving this galaxy behind forever. They are abandoning it because they could not dominate it. They have joined an alliance of other races more powerful than them called the Bond of Resistance, of which the Neofan are a primary member. The Zak’de’ron are now the junior member in this alliance, and they cannot take you with them. Nor do they wish to do so. They want to leave this galaxy behind, because to them it is failure. They failed multiple times, for during their great absence from the Voku they were nearly destroyed. Only a single Zak’de’ron survived in stasis along with a large number of eggs as a backup plan if they lost their war, and they did. They lost their war, though they have never told you this. Nor did they tell you who they fought, or why.”

“The Zak’de’ron once held dominance in this galaxy over everything except the Hadarak. They did so by forming an alliance with other races of merit that they enhanced in various ways, similar to you. Except they didn’t tell them about you or the others they kept as part of their own servants. They were duplicitous, and that is why the Voku were not annihilated in their lost war…because their enemies did not know you existed.”

“This was not for your benefit, but for theirs. The alliance they created in the Outer Core of the galaxy was called the V’kit’no’sat, and they led this in a triumvirate with two other races known as the Oso’lon and J’gar. Neither were as advanced, but were formidable. One of the air, one of the land, and one of the water. This triumvirate led more than a hundred other races as they sought to battle the Hadarak and do some other good things…as well as many bad things. Equality was the defining tenant of the V’kit’no’sat, but over time the other V’kit’no’sat learned the Zak’de’ron were holding back information and technology from them. So they did what the V’kit’no’sat would have done in their situation…they set an ambush, and launched a civil war against the Zak’de’ron. All of the V’kit’no’sat races uplifted by the Zak’de’ron turned against them and in a long and bitter war destroyed the Zak’de’ron, then hunted down the survivors across the galaxy, meaning to purge them from existence.”

“They almost succeeded, and except for this stasis plan they would have succeeded. I know of this because it was Star Force who accidentally stumbled upon the stasis chamber and released the single survivor by the name of Zeno’dor. He is the current leader of the Zak’de’ron, because he is the last of the originals. All others were born from the eggs and future offspring. The time the Zak’de’ron were missing and the Voku were on their own, was because they were all dead except for Zeno’dor.”

The sadness and growing anger were still there, but curiosity was beginning to override it. Hightower could feel it as he quickly searched select minds below to get a better assessment. Information about the Zak’de’ron was so scarce, they couldn’t help but be intrigued even if they did not like what they were hearing.

“Zeno’dor rebuilt the Zak’de’ron, and reclaimed the Voku as their servants, as well as any others who had managed to survive on their own without them. And to be clear, the Zak’de’ron taught the Voku how to survive, along with many other things of value. I will never pretend otherwise. You owe them a great deal, but they are not benevolent the way you have been taught. And truth must now surface. The future depends on it.”

“Once the Zak’de’ron rebuild their strength in secret, they came forth and joined in an alliance with the V’kit’no’sat and Star Force when the Hadarak surge began, knowing that it would not matter what they did or did not do if the Hadarak destroyed the entire galaxy. This was a noble gesture, but also self-serving. They fought against the Hadarak along with us, but then something occurred that no one expected. Another Zak’de’ron emerged, one from long, long ago. Millions of years ago, and one that had been found and incorporated into the Bond of Resistance as an apprentice who was to look after this galaxy and preserve those races worthy of one day being used to fight the Hadarak.”

“He did not consider his own race worthy, but when the V’kit’no’sat acquired the Ysalamir technology and the ability to kill Hadarak more easily, they garnered his attention. When he came to them and demanded they follow him, the V’kit’no’sat refused. He then murdered their leadership and attempted to take direct control over their empire…nearly succeeding…but the V’kit’no’sat fleet guarding their capitol was able to finally kill him.”

“The enraged V’kit’no’sat used this dead Zak’de’ron as an excuse to resume their war of annihilation against Zeno’dor’s Zak’de’ron and began the second war. A war that the V’kit’no’sat did not win. Star Force absorbed the pieces of the V’kit’no’sat that survived, protecting them against annihilation while adding them to our own empire. The Zak’de’ron were broken again, but they survived and rebuilt a second time…but by then Star Force was too powerful to dominate, and the Zak’de’ron realized they could no longer call this galaxy their own. They did not want to share it, or to continue the fight against the Hadarak. So when the opportunity came to leave this galaxy and start over, they welcomed it. And are abandoning you and every other servant race in the process.”

“Star Force is happy the Zak’de’ron are leaving. We won’t have to fight a war against them now to stop their bad behavior. We knew one was coming, for they would not learn to be true protectors. Everything they did was in their own best interests, and they do not hesitate to kill or destroy others who get in their way or whose deaths are useful tools for them. You have probably never seen this, nor been told it, but the Zak’de’ron are not trustworthy, and some of the stories from the Bo’ja will confirm this, but they don’t know as much as we do. And I am here to rescue you from the Zak’de’ron’s abandonment.”

“I know you do not want to hear this, but you must. They would leave you behind without orders, or with fake orders while they run away. They do not care about you, but Star Force cares about everyone. So even while we are fighting a war to protect the galaxy against the Hadarak, we are devoting some resources to the assimilation of the Zak’de’ron’s former servant races, though most of the work to be done will be your responsibility. The Grand Border must hold, for all our sakes, and there isn’t enough of us to come here and remake the Voku into what you deserve to be quickly. I will lead you, but it is you that will have to do the building. It will take time, but unlike the others we will be handling the Voku differently.”

“Our typical protocol when incorporating new races is to put you into indoctrination. We use this word because it is accurate, though not matching what others use it for. We do not torture, we do not mentally alter, we do not compel through anything other than boredom. The race in question is put into a prison camp designed to train you in isolation. You have no access to others. No opportunity for them to affect your thinking. You are alone and must learn to think for yourself. If you wish to sit and do nothing, you may. But you are a prisoner and cannot go elsewhere. Eventually the boredom convinces many to use the training mechanisms we provide, and alone with nothing else to do, most reluctantly begin to learn…and once their eyes are opened to the truth, they devour it rapidly.”

“When they learn enough they are released and join our empire as free individuals. If they wish to live under our protection and not contribute, they may. Those that wish to do more also may, if they earn it. Indoctrination is meant to teach you what you need to know in order to be part of our empire rather than be prisoners in it. It is a difficult transition for many, and those that are truly malevolent never make it out. They live the remainder of their lives in indoctrination as prisoners, but they keep themselves captive through their refusal to learn. What indoctrination offers is an individual path into our empire, while denying any other path. This is the process that has seen great success in uplifting more races than I can count. But I will not use it here.”

“Cal-com said I should expect more of you, and that you can take more responsibility than others. He said you are blinded in your loyalty, but your loyalty is a powerful asset that should not be destroyed through indoctrination. He said you work together as a group, and that that should be your guiding direction. But the question is, will the group do what’s necessary?” he challenged.

“You’ve been ordered by the Zak’de’ron to follow my orders, but here I am telling you they are not to be trusted. Do you still follow their orders, or take my counsel and don’t? You no longer have the option of blind loyalty. You must make a choice. A war for the fate of the galaxy is ongoing. Do you wish to become true protectors? The role the Zak’de’ron began to groom you for but then denied you? You can achieve it with Star Force and rise to become a power worthy of kindship with us, or you can cling to the departing Zak’de’ron and continue to be their dupes. Your usefulness to them is over, so they are abandoning you. Soon there won’t be a single one of them left in the galaxy…so what is to become of you?”

He let that question hang in the air a moment.

“Cal-com said if I called you to duty you would respond, so that is what I am doing. I call upon you to join us as protectors of this galaxy. To rid it of the Hadarak and all others who would pillage and destroy, and threaten the peaceful with annihilation or other evil. If you answer this call we can skip indoctrination and start building immediately. The war isn’t going to wait, and the sooner you join us in the fight the worse it will be for the Hadarak. So the question is now before you. Will you cling to the memories of the past and the lies of the Hadarak that have now left you behind? Or will you answer the call to war, and learn from us how to truly fight with honor and loyalty. The Zak’de’ron did not teach you everything, for they feared you might grow powerful enough to threaten them. Cal-com began to, which is why they had to get rid of him, and he says you can as well if given the opportunity.”

“I am giving you that opportunity now, so what say you? Must I break you of your bad habits first, or will you rise above the lies of the past to answer the call to greatness. To become protectors of the galaxy, as has been your fake destiny all along. Now you have a chance to make it a real one, and I will show you how. Star Force doesn’t fear you, and doesn’t fear strength, for we are not manipulators like the Zak’de’ron. We truly are dominant, but we have not claimed this galaxy yet. The Hadarak stand in our way, and we are trying to protect as many people as we can against their might, which extends beyond this galaxy to many others. The Hadarak have reinforcements they can draw from other galaxies, so even if we claim this one the war will not be over. We must first take it, then we must hold it. A task worthy of any protector, but one that is only feasible for the most elite.”

“Cal-com said you had the potential to become elite, and after meeting him I agree. The Voku are worthy, I believe, but ultimately that will be determined by your actions, not my imagination. So I call upon all Voku and the newly returned Bo’ja. Join us willingly, and I will complete your training as we go along the path of transforming the breeding ground into a full-fledged Faction of Star Force, and one that will join the ranks of the other elite protectors already doing battle against the Hadarak.”

“You are not ready for that now, but we must begin preparations now…or we can go the indoctrination route and lose a thousand years in the process. Do you have the mental fortitude to analyze the situation for what it is, or is all you possess blind loyalty? Cal-com thinks you can rise above this limitation. Break this last chain the Zak’de’ron enslaved you with. Will you join me in freedom and answer the call of the Protector? What say you, Voku? What is your true merit?”

The rumbling was there, and louder than before, but other than that it was still silence…and this time Hightower refused to break it, waiting for their answer as he scanned their minds. There were many different thoughts, confused, hurt, defiant…but sooner the rumble of audible confusion had competition. A song was being sung by a few, and it quickly began to spread.

Hightower didn’t know what it was, so as it began to grow clearer he searched the Voku database via his armor at a thought, finding it to be an ancient song from before the Zak’de’ron had found them. It had survived all this time as a lesson, for it was a crude song that showed strongheaded defiance was the path to destruction. Loyalty and obedience were the path the Zak’de’ron provided and that had elevated the Voku. This song from the past, called Nuri’tu, was an example of what no to do, and it was the only bit of history from before the Zak’de’ron that still survived.

And now they were singing it. A war song. A song dedicated to total attack. Never retreat, never surrender, to the death. At first Hightower thought it was defiance against him and Star Force, but then he started to scan some of the minds of those singing it and he realized just the opposite.

The Voku wanted war. They wanted a good fight. A righteous fight. They had wanted to become Bo’ja, but so many had been rejected and denied the ability to fight that it was an undercurrent in their psychology that had been silenced…until now. The Voku wanted relevance. They wanted peerdom. They wanted to rise higher than they were now. They wanted to reach the level of the Zak’de’ron, or at least fight alongside them. But they were leaving this galaxy behind, and with their departure also meant the end of their restrictions.

Hightower had just hit on a gold mine that he hadn’t realized was there. The Voku were fed up, as Cal-com had once been, but they had no outlet for it…until now.

The song continued to get louder, and then all of a sudden it seemed to spread everywhere…and not just in this city. But across the planet, and out through the lag to the other systems in the coming days.

The Voku were united in one thing above all else. As Cal-com had said, they were meant to be Protectors. It was literally what they were born for.

And they were answering the call the war.

Hightower smiled broadly, nodding his head in acceptance of their response.

There would be no need for indoctrination here. The Voku were ready to grow now.

Cal-com had been right, more so than he had expected. Now it was up to the Lord to deliver.

And the former Marquis of Clan Saber wasn’t going to have any problem doing that…

2

March 27, 154957

System 19923004 (Hadarak-Occupied Territory)

8th planet

The Elloquim Nevantha, a 284 mile wide living starship, came out of his microjump from the pair of stars in system center and decelerated into mid orbit around the large rocky planet that was infested with Hadarak directly over top of a spire that reached up from the planet and branched out like a firework above geosync orbit, and from there fed spaceborn minions as it continued to branch out into nodules that grew even more of the infestation.

The Elloquim was only half the size of the bulb at the top of the spire, but it ran straight into it with speed as the starship’s tentacles were tucked protectively behind it in a bunched tail. The ship’s shields hit and flared with the impact, then the whole spire top exploded in a debris field that looked like powder being thrown out in an expanding sphere with solid chunks flying within it.

Nevantha came out the other side with only minor hull damage, his shields temporarily depleted, as the spire tipped and cracked along its spindly length, soon to fall back down to the planet that the Elloquim was headed to.

This was enemy territory, far from the Grand Border, and Nevantha had no backup…but then again he didn’t need backup, and as he got closer to the atmosphere his hangar bays opened and a cloud of the most recent PanNari attack drones spilled out and accelerated like a swarm of angry bees towards the larger clouds of Hadarak minions coalescing into tendrils headed their way up from the surface, but even more from orbital facilities larger than Warden-class Hadarak.

Nevantha knew they were warehouses, and the amount of minions inside were staggering, but he didn’t care. His smaller drones flew out to face them heavily outnumbered, but they were not expendable the way the Hadarak minions were. These drones were small, but heavily armored and shielded, and they began to cut through the enemy with little effort as the kill count began to climb rapidly.

Nevantha’s computer mind recorded everything his sensors, and those of the drones, could pick up, and tallying the kill count was a simple task. Coordinating the entire battle was more challenging, but well within his combat parameters. As the drones began their skirmishes with the larger enemy minion clouds forming in the distance, Nevantha’s now grown starship mass came to a hover just above the atmosphere and began firing down onto the planet with several beam weapons to probe the defenses. When no shields were encountered, slower moving blobs were dropped onto the surface in a hexagon grid pattern, with the resulting detonations obliterating everything within a radius of 83 miles at the minimum.

The Elloquim cleared the Hadarak from an area of more than 2.2 million square miles in a matter of minutes, then began boring a hole down through the planet’s singed crust with a vivid blue energy beam that he held constant for more than half an hour as the battle in orbit continued to escalate, with the starship having to defend against some minion strikes that got past the skirmishers, but his battle might was not tested with such exterminations. Though if the full armada of Hadarak in this system was allowed to gather from across this world and the other planets, victory could not be assured. That was why Kyra had a limited time to accomplish her mission, which was launched a few minutes before the cutting beam abated so that her landing ships were near the surface when the debris fountain rising around the base of the blue beam suddenly ended when it was shut down…

The QuipNari was of the same race as Nevantha, but she had not rid herself of her physical body as he had, nor did she wish to become a Craniem in any form…which was considered near treason for her people. All were born with a biological mass, but were integrated with more and more technology as the cyborgs sought to eventually transfer their Cores into a fully machine state. Few were able to, and many died in the attempt, but Kyra and a few others had no wish to go that route and were commissioned as a branch of the PanNari known as the QuipNari, who were used as scouts across the galaxy.

Her body was Human, for her infiltration mission had been into Star Force territory. That is what she had been designed for, but now she had a new purpose. Nevantha had adopted her as his personal field operative, and while he could have relied on drones entirely for this mission, he was sending her down along with them for enhanced efficiency as well as the possibility that his remote link could be cut as far deep underground as he had drilled.

Kyra flew in a small invader pod along with hundreds of others carrying combat drones inside down through the still smoky bore hole…not that the surface of the planet was any different with all of the Hadarak infestation having been vaporized into dust that would choke the planet for some time. Her mission was not up there, and the destruction was merely cover for her to do her job.

A few scout drones preceded the pods, giving Kyra and Nevantha eyes up ahead, though she wasn’t the only living being going down here. There was one other, a Craniem tasked with drone coordination on site, and his now fully mechanical mind was held inside a well armored canister implanted in one of the pods by itself. It appeared identical to the others, including in mass, but inside were heavy shield generators, engines, communications equipment, and a handful of weapons. Its purpose was not combat, but to keep the Craniem alive through the dangerous mission, for he was not expendable the way the PanNari machinations were.

As they descended the Craniem, whose name was Tovi Sha Neum, selected points on the wall and had certain drones drill in and attach, becoming weapon mounts and comm links while the bulk of the pods descended down all the way to a mass of goo that was leaking out into the bottom of the shaft and forming a small superheated pool that was effervescing up the column over top the undamaged construct below.

That construct was not known to exist here, nor did Nevantha predict what it was, but he had calculated the presence of something in this system, and once he arrived his magnificent mind had located it through inference alone, though Kyra had never had any doubt. Becoming an Elloquim was the highest honor, and most sacred trust, within the PanNari race, and his skills were not exaggerated. If anything, the PanNari did not truly know the might of the Elloquim as Kyra did, having lived inside him for most of her life. She had been responsible for freeing him from his prison, and ever since he had given her higher security clearance than a QuipNari deserved, but she hadn’t argued. She served him now, and both of them were eager to figure out how the Hadarak were organized so effectively without any visible means of interstellar communication.

Limited telepathy was used, and had been calculated, but it too had a long lag. Essence-related communication boosts had been discovered and explored, but still there was something in this region that was causing the fiercest resistance to the Grand Border, and Nevantha had backtracked the reinforcement flows coming from the Galactic Core to this transfer area. Something else was here increasing their accuracy, and the armor below that was powerful enough to resist the coring beam appeared to not be of Hadarak origin…but to have their organic mass covering it within the planet’s crust.

They had probably discovered it and infested it as well. One of the drones landed in the pool and moved through it, making physical contact with the armor in an attempt to analyze it…but it could not. The surface was entirely non-reactive to the probes being used. It was there, but what it was made of could not be determined.

“Not of known origin,” Nevantha’s voice said inside Kyra’s head as she was crammed in chest to butt along with the ground drones inside one of the pods, stacked like equipment rather than a person…but that didn’t matter to the PanNari. They liked being equipment, and even Kyra could tolerate the lack of movement as her mind was plugged into the PanNari shared link, and she could see through any viewpoint of any drone if she wished, including the pod’s sensors and even Nevantha’s when he allowed her, though at the moment he was blocking her view of the orbital battle in order to keep her focused on the task at hand. “It may be a relic.”

“Retrieval?” she asked, knowing that ‘relic’ referred to the growing number of advanced technological remnants being discovered in this galaxy that were not connected to any known or previous civilization. And most of the relics did not correspond to each other, though most were fragments that had not decayed over the eons. How old they were was unknown, and Nevantha had been pursuing knowledge of them even more fiercely than the Architects in the PanNari, who served as the organizers of their race, while the Elloquim were essentially their Gods tasked with combat, defense, and whatever else was required of them.

“Size must be determined. Excavate Hadarak infestation until access point discovered,” he said, for both her benefit and as orders to Tovi. There were 732 other Craniems onboard Nevantha, available for assignment as he wished, but they rarely left the safety of the ship. Yet that was their function, for Nevantha could not. He was the ship, and could never leave it. Nor would he want to. But communications range was limited with regards to drone control, and if he needed to be on another planet he couldn’t remotely interact through forces here, so a Craniem would be left behind if necessary to do that…for Elloquim were not just combat ships. They were true warships, and could spawn infrastructure and entire civilization on planets if they so chose. Everything that was necessary to build up additional war units, resupply centers, and everything short of reproduction in the biological sense. Technologically they could plant the seeds necessary to fabricate at a rate to match or exceed the Hadarak, but that was not the mission here.

Kyra watched as the pods disgorged more drones that bored their way into the Hadarak living structure surrounding the relic, attempting to carve passageways, but were unsuccessful as the surrounding mass swelled to seal them. That meant heavy excavation was needed, and the carving out of entire chasms began with more units being sent down from orbit to assist, though they wouldn’t arrive for some time.

Meaning the orbital battle continued, and Nevantha had to delay the Hadarak from arriving at the bore hole from above…with his weaponry being used to snipe units that began to encroach into the devastated surface area around it. Kyra had time to work. The Elloquim would make sure of that. But she didn’t have an unlimited window here. They needed to find an entrance, for they could not cut through the relic in any conventional means, and the larger weaponry that Nevantha possessed could not reach it in its buried position. The cutting beam was designed for rock, not armor of this magnitude, and the more potent weapons required closer contact than a ship in orbit could manage.

He could come down to the surface if needed, but the small hole that was only a few hundred meters wide didn’t allow many firing options. If Kyra failed entry by any other way Nevantha would try it, but such imprecise firing could destroy whatever was inside when a surgical entry was needed. Fortunately, the Hadarak infestation could also be hacked, and one of the drones manage to patch into an exposed neural tendril and map out the circumference of the very large relic…which was larger than Nevantha and extended well below the magma layer like a root tapping down into the center of the planet.

The Hadarak had an infestation wrapped around it like a coiled snake, but the general parameters were enough to estimate its size…as well as the access points to the interior. All 7,139 of them.

The carving teams were immediately retasked to the closest one, and after a modest amount of waiting Kyra’s pod was finally able to move into position. The doors opened and the bipedal attack drones detached from their rack mounts along with Kyra’s body. She was dumped to the ground, landing in a crouch then springing into a run along with the much larger machines…though she was mostly one as well, with her internal Human body encased in thick battle armor that covered her head to toe and kept her alive in the ghastly dome dripping with Hadarak liquids from the evisceration above that had not fully removed all of it. Just enough to create a landing zone around one of the entry portals that formerly had a tendril sticking down into the small shield dome being produced by the relic itself.

The carvers were already clearing that out, with a tube of Hadarak parts shooting out into another elevated shield column that carried out beyond the landing area and eventually back up to the surface where it would be dumped. Tovi was orchestrating all of that, along with the laying of defensive emplacements on the relic’s hull, securing their foothold a bit while Kyra was tasked with going inside, for Tovi’s pod would not fit. Access to the relic appeared to be designed for small units only, not just here but everywhere else. Cargo access must have been in larger areas not open to the Hadarak…or else the purpose of this relic was something else entirely.

Kyra ran across the exposed surface of the relic, seeing its black/red surface gleam in the lights of the many PanNari machines flying or running around, and now cleaned pristinely of all Hadarak material, with the drippings from above being scooped up and removed by dedicated units that were working in conjunction with cauterizers that were burning the drip points above into silence.

The armor beneath her feet was unknown to the PanNari, and Star Force had given them a copy of their database as well…at least as much as they would admit to. They most likely kept some secrets for themselves, but their database was far more extensive than everything the QuipNari had put together on their own, and nothing in it was even remotely close to this reddish material.

The entry point was not a cupola, merely a cavity that led to sunken stairs capped by the shield dome to secure it against falling debris most likely, for they were under several miles of planetary rock, with a few support spires visible in the distance where the Hadarak infestation had been cleared out all the way to the rocky walls. Meaning the stone in this area had either been excavated by the Hadarak, or by those who had built this relic…or a combination thereof.

Whoever had built it had left these access points for a reason, and as Kyra passed through the shield without resistance, she got a very biological foreboding as to what lay inside. Something that Nevantha commented on as she descended inside following a stream of attack drones that would spring any traps well ahead of her before she could get to them and endanger herself…

3

There were Hadarak infestations everywhere, reaching into the facility like the roots on a tree, and where each root went it ended in an interface terminal. The Hadarak were actively using the facility and were plugged into it by a means that was not readily apparent until Nevantha’s drones cut apart and dissected the interface tissue.

Somehow they had grown mechanical components into their biological tissue in order to establish a hardline connection…but that was easy enough to remove on the node Kyra came to first as many were being cleared out simultaneously. No Hadarak minions were present. Just the tissue growths. So Kyra had time to herself as she swept away some of the gore over an odd-looking triangular port set high above an interface screen with many virtual buttons.

It hadn’t been covered, at least not entirely, for the Hadarak tissue had been plugged into the triangle port along with several others on the sides. Kyra scanned them all, then decided to go for the main port up top as she peeled back the armor over her Human hand and the tips of her fingers broke open with a splattering of blood that quickly sealed off. Out from her fingers little mechanical tendrils extended into the triangular port as she attempted to reconfigure them in a manner that would give her at least partial access.

She failed multiple times until Nevantha stepped in and analyzed the mechanism, then he fed her the data on the best configuration her limited hardware would allow, but it was enough to establish a connection.

Her mind split, with part watching her surroundings and the other going into the machine world inside…only to find it was enormous. This wasn’t just a facility of strategic importance. It was a city designed for living software…except it was totally empty and in powered-down mode. It told her as much as a program greeted her arrival and inquired as to how it could be of service at typical software speeds, meaning the conversation took less than a second.

Kyra got the basic layout of the physical facility, the virtual one, and a brief history of the Hadarak presence here and before that, at which time Nevantha requested control of her body…which she granted, peeling back her defensive blocks and allowing herself to serve as a conduit for his enormous intellect.

It burned her, for there was so much data passing through her both ways that she couldn’t mentally keep up with it all, nor the speed of the transfer, but Kyra tried to assimilate as much as she could without blacking out…which would stop Nevantha’s connection, for she did not have override technology in her for him to use. That had been a reward of her rescue of him. So if she blacked out his connection would be cut until one of the drones plugged into another interface terminal.

A machine race…one that could reproduce technologically…predating Hadarak invasion…succumbed to natural disaster…forced to leave galaxy…toxic radiation…killed any who remained behind…infrastructure remaining…overlooked by Hadarak until recently…used to produce surveillance drones...low lag data feeds from multiple systems…Hadarak unable to access majority of facility’s purpose…

Handshakes were made, passcodes hacked, databases explored. Nevantha was pouring through the high level security the Hadarak could barely understand, let alone crack, and even though it was foreign technology operating on physics that were beyond the PanNari computer technology, he learned quickly and efficiently…and within an hour he had full combat command of the complex as the battle above the planet grew more dire.

Before Kyra got a summary from the Elloquim, courier ships were launched from Nevantha’s hull and raced through the battlelines heading for the binary stars at system center carrying an urgent message for the PanNari.

Nevantha was ordering the other Elloquim and all PanNari assets to immediately retask to this location in order to hold it permanently. The future of their race depended upon it…

Kyra fired her beam cannons, one from each shoulder mount, at the small, fast moving Hadarak minions pouring down the now sealed access shaft from the surface through the cracks as bipedal drones processed rubble from the cavern ceiling on the exterior of the Gahana Complex and turned it into makeshift building material to cover the entrance. Kyra and several combat drones too large to enter held perimeter as the fast moving ‘zerglings,’ as Star Force called them, rushed to get at them as they fell like rain out of the sidewall where the orbital bombardment from Nevantha had collapsed Kyra’s escape route just prior to his escape from orbit.

The Hadarak were too many in this system for him to take alone…or at least in stationary combat. He needed to use strategy to defeat them, and standing still was not the best way to do it. Kyra had lost her link to him, but her mission was clear.

Hold the Gahana Complex until reinforcements arrived. Protect Cranium Tovi, who was now inside the Complex and plugged into an interface port with drones building defenses around his vulnerable position as he sought to activate the factories inside the complex to produce Gahana defense drones…but that would take hours at the minimum, even if he knew how to operate the equipment. Learning was taking time, for he was not as robust in intelligence or processing power as an Elloquim was, but Tovi was far better suited to the task than Kyra, and together they were the only two living PanNari left on the planet along with an army of their own dwindling machinations that seemingly endless Hadarak units were slowly diminishing through attrition.

Kyra couldn’t seal all the entrances…the complex was far too large for that…but they could lock down the ones nearest to Tovi, at least temporarily, and as soon as she got the signal from the Craniem she stopped firing, turned around and ran towards the barely Human-sized hole left in the entrance aperture.

She dove through it head first, with the drones sealing it over from the outside as well as in, stranding themselves and the combat models above the complex as they continued to build layer after layer onto the blockage and killing more and more minions until the inevitable occurred and they were overwhelmed…but that wouldn’t happen immediately, and Kyra was not expendable. Nevantha had decreed as much before he left, mandating that she preserve herself at all costs, even if it meant abandoning the immobile Tovi who was nothing more than a two meter wide sphere at this point that was now firmly attached to the structure…meaning he couldn’t run if he wanted to. And Nevantha didn’t want Kyra dying to stay with him if it came to that.

The QuipNari was inside now, temporarily safe, and she took off running through the alien corridors enroute to her next assignment with Tovi virtually showing her the way with floating orbs overlaid onto her biological vision.

When she got to her destination the wavy ceiling architecture caught her attention as the ripples of light flowed up and down the curves in a pattern than suggested information rather than decoration, but she couldn’t figure it out in the 7.2 seconds she allowed herself. For her objective was right before her.

There were 18 machines parked on the flat floor, all of which were quadruped, and Tovi’s direction was leading her to the red one third in the first row.

Kyra ran towards it and jumped halfway up, grabbing hold of the crystalline nubs on the side panels and climbing the rest of the way to the top where she had to reconfigure her hand again to plug into a much smaller port. Tovi fed her the correct access codes that he had dug up…or more precisely Nevantha had dug up the protocols and fed them to him to explore further…in order to activate the combat machine, with a rectangular panel sliding open at the base of the neck that connected to the mechanical head.

Inside was simply a cargo hold that would support the pilot. It hadn’t been designed for a biological body, but Kyra was small enough that she could fit…barely. She had to contort herself up into a fetal position in order to get low enough for the hatch to seal over her, but with her hand linking to a hardware slot inside, she let her mind disconnect from her cramped body and interface with the machine.

Suddenly she was the machine, and quadruped, well armored, with new weaponry, sensors, and movement capabilities…as well as passcodes for many of the automated defenses Tovi was starting to get online by tripping various alarms after Nevantha had left with his larger intellect. It took Kyra several minutes to process the new software and create a cross link with her own biological brain. It wasn’t a new trick she had to learn, but every unfamiliar system took time to learn and form a handshake with, and this one was so advanced she didn’t fully understand what she was bonding with. Just that the pathways were there if she could expand her consciousness into them sufficient for the processing required.

Kyra barely qualified, but the machine…known as a Kel’zat…woke up, with her realizing she wasn’t going to be driving so much as directing, for the automated programming was so advanced it behaved as if it was alive, yet there was no one inside. It was all carefully crafted software, but this software was more intelligent than her…or more precisely it had been written by those more intelligent than her…so she assumed the role of navigator and directed the Kel’zat to move towards the nearest unsecured entrance.

It lurched into an awkward run that smoothed out considerably as the machine legs that hadn’t been moved in a very long time self-lubricated enroute, darting out of the storage area and down the highway-like corridors and up ladder shafts that the quadruped climbed with ease as its feet were designed to fit onto the rungs that would be hard, if not impossible for the zerglings to climb when they got here.

On and on it ran until they finally came into contact with the enemy a few miles short of the entrance, though some of the tentacles from the surface were visible branching out down the corridor ahead, and a swarm of Zerglings were traveling down it like ants sticking to a tree branch.

Kyra identified the targets as hostiles, then just rode along as her body registered damage from the extreme maneuvering. She didn’t feel it, exactly, but the warning prompted her to look for and find a dampening mechanism to soften the jostling to what would have been an elongated cube of the Gahana version of a Craniem.

The warnings parred down, though they did not totally go away, but that was irrelevant as they were not in the critical range. Her body might get bounced around a bit, but with the dampeners she would live. The Hadarak minions would not, and the ferocity of the way the Kel’zat fought was awe inspiring. Kyra had never seen a drone move in such a natural, spontaneous way. She ran the movements through motion calculation, trying to backtrack to the parameters being used to generate them, but she could not detect an identifiable pattern. It was almost as if this Kel’zat was alive and had the ability to improvise, but that was impossible without a Core.

Nevertheless, it was effective. Shooting the Zerglings as often as stepping on and smashing them, with shield walls for containment and pushing to make sure they didn’t get past it under its legs. It had anti-biological weaponry that it used when the numbers increased to swarm levels, with swaths of energy billowing out like a cloud that melted the organic components on contact, and blanketing the floor in a river of goo that it trampled as it continued to move and smash more of them all the way up to the nearest tendril.

It melted it too, with a river rush of liquefied Hadarak running down the corridor and passing through the containment shields where it was of no threat, but with pieces sticking on the shield and being shot when otherwise.

This was a pre-programmed purge operation. Kyra knew it before even looking it up, and she was getting quite the spectator’s view as she rode along inside as the Kel’zat worked its way through the Hadarak growths all the way up to the entrance that had a small bore hole in it that was allowing the minions through. They must have cut it themselves, but a blast from the ‘liquefier’ cleaned it out entirely, yet the Kel’zat was too big to go up to the top, though Kyra could see through its sensors the shield dome up top covering it…and sensing when it suddenly became opaque and hard, blocking out the Hadarak beyond as the Kel’zat gave the order without her telling it to.

Then it inquired as to their next objective. Kyra’s biological eyebrows raised inside her faceplate, wondering again how such programing could behave like a living being, but her task wasn’t to wonder. It was to secure Tovi and survive until Nevantha could return with reinforcements. And to that end, she signaled the Kel’zat to move to the next closest entrance and repeat the purge and seal process that only one at the location could enact, for Tovi was informing her he had no remote command over the shield gates covering the entrances.

The Gahana had engineered this place for lack of central command. Meaning you had to be physically at certain locations in order to operate them. That was why the Hadarak didn’t have access to most of the system and potential of this complex.

And that also explained why they had been branching out tendrils in certain directions. They couldn’t have discovered this place that long ago, otherwise they would have infested the entire facility by now…

No, the Kel’zat told her, for somehow it was monitoring her mind. Certain areas of the complex had automated purging protocols if certain codes were not given. The Hadarak could not spread to the entire facility without those codes.

Kyra ran a timestamp analysis on the available records, realizing the Hadarak had been here for years, but not millennia. This was a new find, but they were already using it to create surveillance drones, interstellar-class, that had a cloaking technology that defied PanNari science…and probably Star Force’s as well if they hadn’t picked up this monitoring before. And if they had they would have shut it down and the efficiency of Hadarak movements in the cataloged area would have decreased again.

And it hadn’t.

But why would the Hadarak be able to interface and create these machines if the rest of the complex was off limits?

The Kel’zat answered that as well, telling her that this place had access available for biologicals, but only so far in that they could see data. Weapons and other systems were not the privilege of the public.

That was when something from before collated. Nevantha had offhanded mentioned it, but she was so overloaded she hadn’t realized what he had meant in his summary.

This place was a library, meant for public access to the machine and biological races of this region of the galaxy to utilize. And the Hadarak were being allowed to do just that within the confines of the facility’s purpose.

And clandestine monitoring of systems without their knowledge was essential in maintaining the peace between civilizations with less than honest disclosures.

The Gahana had been a machine race of peacekeepers. Wiped out by a cataclysm…something to do with the Core of the galaxy. Some spike of radiation that would erase their hard drives and kill them. Many had died, and the rest fled. Leaving behind this Library…and others…for the biologicals to use.

But the PanNari were not biological. At least not the Elloquim. And that’s why Nevantha had been given essentially full access.

And if they could step in and assume the mantle of the Gahana, they would inherit everything they left behind…which was far more advanced than their technology now.

A very biological shiver ran down Kyra’s spine again as it finally sank in how important this was, above and beyond denying it to the Hadarak and discovering another machine race. This was a potential leap forward for the PanNari if they could hold onto it…and it was going to take more than one Elloquim to do it even if the Hadarak didn’t send reinforcements from other systems.

And they would.

Which meant the PanNari’s part of the push to the Core was going to happen early, and this system had just become the more important in the galaxy for them.

And they weren’t going to lose it.

4

May 3, 154958

Jamtren System (V’kit’no’sat Capitol)

Holloi

Mak’to’ran didn’t like being away from the Grand Border. His destiny was in combat there, but in order to lead the V’kit’no’sat in their mandate to defend Star Force’s inner border, he had to do a great many more things that lead a fleet in combat against the Hadarak…which he did often, but by design the Grand Border took care of itself with each individual system being fully capable of holding its own in most cases.

In the cases where that was not so, a reinforcement system had been established that would respond immediately from nearby strongholds and roaming fleets. Mak’to’ran had made sure not to have a static map of forces for the Hadarak to somehow ascertain, for their intelligence-gathering still eluded him. They knew too much, and there was no chance of saboteurs and spies on the Grand Border. Everyone there was elite V’kit’no’sat from all of their 194 races, each of which was tasked with a piece of the Grand Border to hold on their own or in groups. And they had held it intact from its inception to this day, denying the Hadarak their continuing carnage and protecting all of the Rim and half of the Core.

But they were savvy, and Mak’to’ran’s job had not been an easy one. If continual adjustments were not made, breakthroughs would have occurred long ago. The pressure on the boarder was continually increasing as more and more units were being drawn from other galaxies. But at the same time the Star Force pressure was also gradually increasing, and sooner or later one side was going to grasp and cripple the other. Mak’to’ran knew it had to be Star Force to make the first move, but until they were ready he had to hold the line firmly, and the best place he could do that from was Holloi.

The Era’tran capitol had also become the V’kit’no’sat capitol once Itaru had been taken from them. It was still in Zak’de’ron possession and was being stripped down at present as they prepared to leave, not wanting Mak’to’ran to have anything to claim when he returned there in the coming days for nostalgia sake, but it would not be the V’kit’no’sat capitol again. The trailblazers had their own plans for it, plus, the V’kit’no’sat had been reborn on the Grand Border, and that was their home now. Jamtren may have been off the border, but it was one of many support worlds with tethers leading to it. Itaru was the past, and it too would be reborn in another useful fashion, but not for the V’kit’no’sat. The trailblazers wouldn’t release their plans for it yet, but Mak’to’ran had spoken with Greg-073 about it in person a number of years ago.

He’s said simply that the V’kit’no’sat would be expanding their territory…but doing so further into the Core. The Grand Border was to stay intact and act as a launching point, and claiming Itaru as a Capitol would put it on the wrong side of the line. The Grand Border would eventually become the center or center/back of V’kit’no’sat territory as the fight moved further and further into the great swirl of stars they were all fighting for.

That conversation had rid Mak’to’ran of his desire to reclaim and reestablish Itaru to its former state, but he still needed to be there and feel it return to his claws…then to discard it, along with everything else that was Zak’de’ron. The V’kit’no’sat had grown beyond them and their capitol, and even Jamtren would eventually be reduced to a backwater regional capitol, for the V’kit’no’sat’s future was deeper into the densely populated regions of the galaxy where they had never been able to venture before, continually blocked by the seemingly feeble roaming Hadarak patrols of long ago. How the fate of the galaxy had shifted in so few millennia.

Right now Mak’to’ran was in between strategy sessions and taking a run along the jungle lakeshore in the southern hemisphere where the air was a bit drier and cooler, but the vegetation remained mostly the same. The air on this planet was thick enough to blanket it in enough insulation that there was little seasonal change regardless of planetary axis tilt. And as always the gravity fought to strengthen or crush you into oblivion, but Mak’to’ran barely noticed it now as he strode slowly with long, huge steps that reverberated the ground with each foot strike on the cobblestone path that had been built to keep from making a muddy mess of the lakeside trail.

The loop around the lake was some 52 miles long, and Mak’to’ran was in the habit of taking a full loop whenever he needed to think, and today was no exception. The day of Star Force’s invasion of the Hadarak Zone was nearing, but when they launched it there could be no hesitation. It was straight to the Galactic Core or die trying, because the pressure the Hadarak imposed could suffer no lapse, and getting the logistical backing for the fleets that were already more or less built was the greater issue…and the further they pressed in and away from the Grand Border the harder it was going to be to resupply.

They had to get to the Tethers in the very center of the galaxy where the ultra massive gravity wells were strong enough to allow jumps to and from this galaxy. But there was no way they could go straight there, fight through unknown territory, take all the tethers, and then hold them. Whatever force they sent would be cut off from resupply, which was why the counterattack was going to be very complicated. They couldn’t hit every system and move the border inward slowly and expect to be effective. The intergalactic reinforcements had to be stopped, else the carnage would escalate to far too costly measures.

The Grand Border’s infrastructure was saving them a great deal of that, but once they started to counterattack it would be fleet only, and that was an entirely different way of fighting than the V’kit’no’sat were used to. And that was why the rest of Star Force was going to take the forefront of that assault.

Mak’to’ran’s memory had nearly come back to full, but there were still an occasional blank regarding his history that he would encounter time to time. He didn’t miss it, nor the past. They were worthy battles and challenges fought and passed. His future lay ahead of him, not behind, but he knew the V’kit’no’sat were not ready…at least not as ready as they should be, for the counter assault. They were going to have to continue growing through the battles, and while that was possible it was not ideal, yet it was what the trailblazers were calling on him and his people for.

The galaxy couldn’t wait, and the longer the Grand Border held, the higher the likelihood was of the Hadarak finding a way to breach it. And all it would take was one hole for their forces to move through and begin to hit the mass of underdefended worlds behind it…not to mention all the others that were not part of Star Force that couldn’t hope to defeat even the smallest of the Wardens on their best day.

Mak’to’ran should have had all the time in the world while the Grand Border was built and held, but he never felt like it. He was always rushed with more to do and never a break. He had become accustomed to it, but the addition of his Essence skills made his time even more crunched as he had to train with it regularly in order to increase his abilities. And the same was true of the rest of the Hakja, which he had reformed and personally crafted into the Era’tran’s Essence-equipped specialists.

The other V’kit’no’sat races had their own versions, but the Era’tran’s was the most advanced and largest…yet still dwarfed by the Varkemma. The armies of Essence-trained troops that Reclaimer Cal-com was sending to the Grand Border to assist with the on-planet combat were massive and terrifying in their power, and Mak’to’ran knew they could eviscerate the Era’tran easily if they wished.

Star Force’s power in the Rim had far surpassed the V’kit’no’sat, and in the past that would have burdened Mak’to’ran greatly, but now it did not. The V’kit’no’sat had their designated role to play and Mak’to’ran was proud to bear the weight of the Hadarak surge on their shoulders while the rest of the galaxy used the peace they provided to grow and build. The Rim would be the end of the Hadarak, while the V’kit’no’sat would be moving in behind them and securing strategic locations to make sure ground taken would not be lost again.

And through it all the V’kit’no’sat had their own independent path to follow. A path to greatness if attained, far more than they had currently managed. Essence was such a powerful tool, and the V’kit’no’sat were so new to it that sometimes Mak’to’ran felt like they were children playing in the shadow of the Temple gods, but Greg-073 had let him in on a secret. One that he could not record in any fashion, and it had to do with the trailblazers themselves, most of whom had finally chosen to increase their size to proper Zen’zat standards.

He never understood why they limited the growth of their psionic tissues while refusing to increase their body size, for Zen’zat were designed to be larger than Ter’nat. The errant Human races spawned by the illicit reproduction did not retain the enhanced size, but did retain the psionics. That error had been carried by the Archons through their history until recently, but Mak’to’ran now knew it had come about not through their choosing.

Greg had explained the advancement they had undergone, by what methods they did not know, but there was rumor and myth of it happening elsewhere throughout history. The fact that they were now similar to the Zak’de’ron in some biological respects was immensely curious, as was the assumption that the Neofan knew how to force it using some Essence technique before it would happen naturally, thus speeding up their adaption and advancement to dizzying levels.

That should have made Mak’to’ran feel even more inferior, but Greg explained that the greatest superiority came in the form of the individual of merit, and that everything else was merely equipment, whether it be technological or biological. Star Force was going to exceed the Neofan, if they hadn’t already, and not by forcing upgrades to their race through some mysterious Essence technique. They were better because the people inside their bodies, their Cores, were better. And the better individuals would find a way to win if given a chance.

And that’s what the V’kit’no’sat’s mandate truly was. To give Star Force the time and chance to grow stronger. And in doing so the V’kit’no’sat had the opportunity to grow from the pressure and challenges before them, in Essence and other fashions, but Mak’to’ran could see now more than before how far they had to go. And it was not going to be an easy journey to get there. Yet unlike the past, they had allies and brothers stronger than them that could shield them in their weakness until they had time to catch up, just as the V’kit’no’sat were doing now by holding the Grand Border for them.

Teamwork rather than dominance and suppression of rivals. The V’kit’no’sat had already upgraded greatly from their absorption into the Star Force empire, and Mak’to’ran was a living example of irony, for it was his failure to destroy them in their early years that had opened up this future for his people. And that fact he still found humorous to this day.

The universe did not behave as predicted, and in his recent years he’d drawn a great deal of comfort from that fact. His current situation was better than anything he’d ever dreamed of in Itaru’s days, and when he returned there he would be saying goodbye and good riddance all at once.

Mak’to’ran continued to run, bypassing another pair of Era’tran going the opposite way on the trail who moved to single file to allow him to pass, for the path wasn’t as wide as a Satu, and if you did not time your steps appropriately you would be hit by the tail swing of the other passing you and be knocked into the lake.

But that was a challenge for hatchlings, not experienced Era’tran, and the passby occurred without incident, after which Mak’to’ran felt the need to speed up as he was nearing the halfway point in his circuit around the lake.

He held the increased effort for the better part of half an hour until a flying barge came across the lake in his direction and he received a telepathic contact…for he was wearing no armor or comm gear while he ran, intentionally, to give his mind a chance to disconnect and free think as he did his running.

Mak’to’ran slid to a stop, peeling up several of the small cobblestones with his heels as he sensed the urgency in the other Era’tran. They were not to disturb him unless it was immediately important, and the mental state of the female they had sent to fetch him…one he did not personally know…indicated as such.

The barge slid in a hover near the lake shore but did not cross onto it as the female telekinetically passed a small item to him, then she took the barge back across the lake without another word or thought.

Mak’to’ran held the small box aloft in front of him, mentally accessing it and activating the transformation of the data device into a claw-like skull cap that he put on his head. Included in the device was comms gear, which was why the courier wasn’t staying around to offer her services, but the important part was the data contained in the device.

On it was the record of a Sevn’orr encounter with a passing PanNari fleet traveling through their Grand Border slot enroute to the Hadarak Zone. Such things were normal, for the PanNari were one of many advanced non-Star Force races assisting with pruning the enemy forces on the other side to diminish some of the strain on the Border worlds, but this occurrence wasn’t a normal assault fleet. It was multiple Elloquim all in one convoy, with a huge amount of support ships behind them.

In fact, it appeared to be all the known Elloquim in existence, plus a few more that Star Force didn’t know about, along with most of their warfleet.

When the Sevn’orr inquired as to where the PanNari were going and what were they doing with such a large force, they had received only a simple reply.

WE ARE GOING TO WAR

That was far premature, and Mak’to’ran’s eye ridges furrowed as he reviewed the data, for it was not just about the passing. The Sevn’orr had held onto the information as they sent scouts to follow the fleet to see what it was doing. When those scouts returned they brought with them the destination point and records of massive battles going on in a Hadarak-occupied system of no apparent value far from the Grand Border.

The PanNari were everywhere inside it, and what was even more perplexing were the amount of Hadarak there battling them…and continuing to come in through multiple jumplines with near constant reinforcements.

The carnage occurring in this one system was greater than any of the Grand Border worlds had ever seen by a large margin. No, that comparison didn’t even do it justice. This was total warfare at a level that should have reduced all the planets in the system to rubble, but it hadn’t. Instead everything was focused on one world that the PanNari had tentative control over, and the Hadarak were not trying to ram it.

Speculation followed, with snippets of the highly encrypted PanNari communications referencing the location and far more of the Hadarak telepathic conversations revealing an object of great value on the planet. One that must not be destroyed, but one that could not be relinquished to the PanNari at any cost.

Mak’to’ran stopped moving, stopped breathing, and stopped thinking. The sound of the wind moving through the tree leaves and the lapping of the water on the shoreline became deafeningly loud. Something in him stirred in a way that it had not before. Something of terrifying consequence that he recognized but had no knowledge of. Hamob had referenced evidence of powers greater than the Zak’de’ron leaving behind clues of their existence from the distant past, but Mak’to’ran had never found any. Yet now he had one before him, even though the information didn’t say what it was.

Something the Hadarak valued so much they would not destroy, and something the entire PanNari civilization was trying to take away from them single handedly.

Mak’to’ran had no logical reasoning for his next decision, but in his Core he knew it was vitally important that he get there, even if there were closer fleets that may have already been dispatched to help…or perhaps not, for the PanNari had not requested assistance.

Mak’to’ran immediately ordered his pickup via drop pod and began rallying various V’kit’no’sat ships from multiple systems to rendezvous with him at a select location on the Grand Border. Getting to the system was going to be difficult in anything larger than a scout ship, and it would take more than a year to get there, but he knew this wasn’t a conflict that was going to conclude soon…and if it did, it meant the PanNari had failed to hold the planet.

And if that was the case, he intended to take from the Hadarak whatever it was they were so desperate to possess.

5

July 21, 154959

System 9923011 (Hadarak-Occupied Territory)

Medium Stellar Orbit

Mak’to’ran’s convoy came out of their interstellar jump early, so to avoid low stellar orbit. They’d been having to do this the last few jumps due to increasing amounts of Hadarak activity around the destination system. Their current location was one jump away from it, and the contacts popping up on passive sensors showed a swarm of Mainline units and Wardens partially ringing the central star in the system as they trickled out on the jumpline to the PanNari system, feeding reinforcements to it constantly as spurts of other lines were coming in from 18 other jumplines to coalesce here.

That told Mak’to’ran that units were not being diverted from the Coreward reinforcements and sent, which was probably also happening, but the Hadarak were also pulling from other areas in order to get enough pressure to apply on the PanNari. The fact that the reinforcement flow was this strong indicated that the PanNari were probably still holding out, but if this had been the case since they arrived, Mak’to’ran had no idea what kind of carnage had been ensuing, but he was soon to figure out how just how formidable the Elloquim were depending on how many had survived and what condition the system was in.

However, if they were to assist the PanNari, they were going to have to get through that crowded jumpline…and there was no way to do that with the size of a fleet he had without giving the Hadarak free shots at them and maybe picking off some of his ships. He wasn’t going to leave anyone behind, and his hunters’ instincts were salivating at the chance to strike so many Hadarak gathered in the same space and having only one navigational point to flow through.

“Battle formations,” he ordered calmly as the second half of his fleet was still in transition and not yet braked behind his leading units and flagship, christened by the trailblazer Roger-009 himself. The DinoThunder was one of a kind at present, with two more identical versions under construction in different shipyards. It was more than a thousand miles long, but thin and flat like a knife, which made it smaller in mass than a Borg vessel, but not by much.

Over a quarter million Era’tran served onboard along with many more Star Force Zen’zat, which was in stark contrast to the trainblazers’ Borg vessels that were built for minimal crews. The DinoThunder was a warship, and any other description of it would have been inaccurate, but it was designed for a long term war rather than a single battle, making it a mobile city/command center at the same time, and along with it came attack drone carriers that would have their cargo flown by remote pilots onboard the massive vessel in addition to the more traditional V’kit’no’sat warships that had undergone some significant upgrades since joining Star Force.

But more than that, the V’kit’no’sat’s purpose was now clear. They were not building a warfleet to fight off all of the empire’s threats. Like Clan Kai’sa, their focus was solely the Hadarak, and the V’kit’no’sat warships were built to handle the massive swarms of minions, the Mainline units, the Wardens, and even the Lurkers and other special nastiness that was being thrown at the galaxy. And despite the greater than 5 million ship count ahead of Mak’to’ran, he was not worried. His 7,391 warships, if working in concert, could not be stopped by the Hadarak unless they ran out of Essence.

And the fleet’s Magicite wells were all full to the brim.

The DinoThunder moved to the head of their central formation, with the other ships flaring out around it and going backwards in a spiral to form a column, and staggered behind it would eventually be 8 other columns. The trick to fighting the Hadarak was not letting them surround you entirely, so the columns’ circular width always had friendly ships on one of your sides, and if the enemy minions or larger vessels tried to get inside the column, they’d be surrounded by weapons batteries that had no line of sight other than into the hollow center…and in that environment they would not survive more than a few minutes at best.

Those hollow centers also allowed a fallback position for damaged ships on the exterior of the column, allowing them to rotate in as other ships took their place on the front lines. All of Mak’to’ran’s columns were at least three lines deep, except for the primary, which was 9 deep with the DinoThunder at the head. He wasn’t going to nip at the edges of the Hadarak swarm as combat normally played out. He had the strength here to force melee range combat on their largest units immediately, and the minions would not be able to stop their advance with all the tonnage he had to bring to bear, let alone the DinoThunder’s primary weapon.

There was a reason only one had been built to date, and that reason was the Nova Incinerator Matrix, or NIM, that the entire forward half of the ship was covered with, and in fact designed around. The NIM was designed to destroy biological mass and stone-like armor, and could be countered easily by strong shields…but the Hadarak had none. The DinoThunder was not a match for a Borg vessel. Not even close in a head to head, but against the Hadarak, the amount of damage that could be inflicted on the enemy was unmatched in the rest of the Star Force arsenal, and he took a significant amount of pride in that. But never had he had a moment of opportunity such as this to hit the enemy so hard and so fast…and he wasn’t going to miss it.

As soon as the last ships in his convoy arrived and moved into formation, Mak’to’ran had his fleet make a soft microjump towards the jumppoint the Hadarak were exiting on…and he left the command deck for the rear stairs that led him down several levels to the solitary firing station that was a gigantic spherical chamber with a single walkway extending out into the center.

As he strode down it the walls of the sphere lit up with images of the exterior of the ship, then tactical markings were added on top of them. No neural interface could be used here, despite its increased accuracy. Mak’to’ran or one of the other few Hakja onboard that were cleared to operate the weaponry had to have their mind firmly grasping reality rather than a simulation, for the weapon couldn’t fire anywhere near full power without an Essence enhancement, and that had to be done manually.

Other Essence weaponry on the ship only required a filled Materia and a button press, but the NIM was radically advanced Ysalamir technology blended with Essence techniques that were only a few hundred years old. Mak’to’ran was going to have to extend his Essence out into the primary firing chamber, which was directly around the sphere he stood, and manipulate it to get the necessary tuning. If he failed the weapon would still work, though not as well, and the 9x multiplier was something that they couldn’t afford to miss out on when there were that many Hadarak so tightly grouped together.

Mak’to’ran had skilled commanders onboard his vessel, enough to fill a fleet of warships, so he wasn’t worried about personally directing the combat. They could handle it well without him, but they could not take his place here, for he was the most skilled Era’tran or V’kit’no’sat when it came to Essence techniques, and not by a small margin. He’d dedicated a significant portion of his life to learning and growing his personal power, and the NIM’s effectiveness scaled off it, meaning that in the future that 9x effect would raise to 10…then 11…and so on as he grew stronger.

That meant the most damage he could do to the enemy was standing on this elevated platform in the center of this holographic chamber watching the battles take place under others’ direction as he gave them the necessary power to obliterate any Hadarak formation they were passing through.

And therein lay the catch. The NIM was not a ranged weapon, at least not in the visual sense. The ship was so large that the range of the NIM was greater than the long range weaponry of lesser race’s ships, but general close proximity was required…which was why the V’kit’no’sat fleet made up of 32 of their races’ ships wasn’t going to fully brake and stand toe to toe with the Hadarak exchanging fire.

They were going to dive into their ranks and pass through them enroute to the jumppoint, then circle around and make many more passes. This was not an evasive maneuver designed to get them to the PanNari system. This was to cut through the heart of the swarm as many times as the enemy would allow before disbanding and fleeing the system.

And given the stubbornness of the Hadarak, Mak’to’ran expected at least a dozen such passes, though he hoped for more.

The elder Era’tran finally reached the center of the chamber, which the V’kit’no’sat referred to as a De’shor’nak, which was an alteration of an old word that meant ‘focal point.’ He planted his feet into two imprints in the floor that vaguely matched them, then the silver material in the floor melted slightly and crept inward so that it perfectly matched his feet, which would not move through the entire battle.

Three armatures raised from the floor, two going to just in front of his short arms where he placed his hands on them, and the third rose up near the tip of his tail but short of it, allowing Mak’to’ran to settle it into the groove that likewise lightly bonded to it, supporting his body as well as allowing a physical connection to the equipment that would act as conduits for his Essence so he didn’t have to try to expand it through the air out to the hidden ring beyond the walls that he had to connect to. Tethers running through the platform made of specialized Essence-insulative material did so much better, but he did not make connection now, knowing his limits with using the technology. Instead he waited as the view outside had the enemy clouds ahead of them gradually expanding to cover all of his vision, then that expansion slowed greatly as the final braking maneuver was made and the command deck signaled him to make ready the weapon.

Mak’to’ran stirred the Essence within him, pushing it out of his body down the channels provided by the armatures, but he did not relinquish control of it as he would when releasing it into a weapon blast or healing aura. It felt like he was pushing a piece of himself out of his body, stretching his Core and mind beyond his physical boundaries, though that wasn’t really what was happening. That was the sensation though as he became intimately familiar with things beyond himself along the connective lines until his Essence reached the ring that surrounded his position hidden behind the walls of the De’shor’nak.

There he had to work to get it all incorporated into his possession, and once he did his Essence settled, though it took a considerable amount of will power to control so much beyond himself. One lapse and his personal Essence beyond his body would evaporate and he would have to start over. That was one reason why he could not be mentally connected to the battle computers or exterior sensors. He had to focus on his task and his task alone, while allowing his eyes only to see what was occurring outside.

The ring he now possessed was the head of the primary firing chamber, with the other rings further back feeding through this one last of all before being released to the hull. The Materia that was the NIM would create the weapon effect in the other rings, then this last one was when Mak’to’ran would enhance it by manually altering the weaponized Essence in a way that no machine could…at least not at present. Perhaps one day it would be possible, but then again Star Force might design even greater weapons using harder techniques.

None of that mattered now. The NIM was here, and Mak’to’ran’s skill was going to determine how much final alteration he could make to the weaponized Essence. 9x effect was the best he had managed to date, but it wasn’t easy nor automatic. He could try hard and only get 7x, so he had to focus all his attention and inner might on giving the DinoThunder the most lethal augment he could, but right now he was waiting as he signaled the command deck that he was primed. When they pressed the buttons to fire the weapon, it would pass through Mak’tor’an’s extended Essence in the ring and that was when he would have to work his powers on it not once, but as many times as the ship fired.

If he lost his strength another Hakja was standing by to replace him. In fact four were waiting, for once you exhausted your willpower on this weapon you could not use it again for days. The strain was that great, but also dependent on how deep you pushed. And in this first pass through the enemy swarm Mak’to’ran was not going to hold back for longevity’s sake.

The view before him sent a spike of adrenaline through his body. Something he hadn’t felt in ages. Battle against the Hadarak had become routine for him, but he had never been in the targeting range of a fleet such as this, and he could already see their weaponsfire mounting as it rained out towards the V’kit’no’sat in such a density that no living being in the universe could survive it.

But the analytical part of Mak’to’ran’s mind disagreed with the obvious, knowing the strength of his fleet and the temporary window they had to sustain such an energy rainstorm…and at the speed they were moving, they wouldn’t be out in the clear for very long. And once inside the Hadarak formations, they’d have to more carefully focus their shots or risk hitting their own units. Out here in the clear they had no such limitations, and Mak’to’ran was glad he could not see the shield strength on his ships start to decline. All he had was the magnificent view beyond him, and a sense of the Essence building in the rest of the primary firing chamber.

He also got a warning indicating the ship was going to fire, though he didn’t need it. He could feel the pressure building and the glowing Essence contorting into unnatural forms that could not persist long. But a weapon didn’t need to persist long, only long enough to get to the target, and the screeching of the Essence being wound up ever so tightly prickled down Mak’to’ran’s back, but he grit his teeth and prepared for it, for it was going to hurt his own Essence as it passed through and fight for dominance.

His had to be the stronger in order to make the alteration, which was why most Essence users could not operate this weapon. Only the most advanced could even attempt it. And only he had truly mastered the ability to fire it with regularity, and today was no exception.

The coiled Essence spun forward, contorting more with each ring it passed through, then it spun into the final one and Mak’to’ran felt it hit him even though his body was not contacted. It was as if he was in the ring as much as he was in the chamber, and when his focus had to go there he lost nearly all contact with his body…but the armatures kept him standing upright and in connection to the conduits, otherwise he would have stumbled and broke physical contact without realizing it.

The amount of Essence passing through the ring felt like a controlled flood, and he had to push hard to make it bend to his will. He could not stop it though. That was impossible, for he didn’t have the strength. He had to divert it along its path in such a way that it made slight alterations, constrictions, weaves, and so forth. It could not be accurately explained in words, only in feel, which was why he had to teach the other Hakja through memories and their own battlemeld psionic that superseded the natural telepathy of the V’kit’no’sat by leaps and bounds.

But Mak’to’ran was not connected to the others now. It would have been deleterious for him. He was locked inside the De’shor’nak where none could reach him physically, and it was also shielded telepathically so he could not be sabotaged during this critical moment.

It took a great deal of effort, but the Essence passing through the final ring gave way and predictably altered under his pressure, enhancing the effect by a personal best 10.2x effect as the continual surge passed through his invisible grasp and headed out to the thousands of emitters covering the front half of his knife-like ship, and from there the visibly orange/pink energy bathed the front of the ship in a sheath that obscured all view through it, including sensors, which was why there were several protrusions above the sloped hull to give the ship view ahead from the rear half.

Arcs of errant energy escaping the capsulation leapt up and circled back around, reminiscent of prominences seen in stars. The Nova Incineration Matrix filled the entire front half of the ship, with Mak’to’ran having to continue supplying it with energy as it bled off heavily in to the vacuum of space, but the pool contained over the ship moved with it into the dense Hadark swarms and disappeared inside a moment later, along with the other ships in the lead column following along the edges of the expanding fireworks that rippled out in a cone many times the length of the DinoThunder.

For upon coming into contract with the pent up NIM energy, every Mainline ship and minion that got within range acted as a conduit for it, with the orange/pink energy leaping out to the mass, incinerating it, and then leaping out to the next and next so long as there were enough objects in range for it to pass through.

And in this densely packed enemy swarm, there was no limit to the possible jumps…meaning the full power of the weapon was able to discharge, and that was something that Mak’to’ran nor anyone else had ever witnessed before…

6

July 21, 154959

Gordara Buen System (Hesphatus Region)

Attachiak

“Are you sure this is accurate?” Rajamal asked, holding up the message cube that the Zen’zat courier had just brought him.

“I confirmed it before I brought it,” Theodral said firmly. “I ran it by my contacts in Star Force. Zen’zat that I know would not lie to me. They confirmed the content as accurate.”

The rebel Zen’zat looked down at the cube in his hand, weighing the significance of this moment.

“How can we be this lucky?” he demanded.

“Perhaps it is not for us to dictate the future, only to fight in the present, and this is our reward.”

“Those are not your words,” Rajamal noted.

“They are those of Hamob, an Era’tran I once served.”

“Is he still alive?”

“I do not know. He was a reclusive power behind the Yaern’ek, and if he managed to survive the war he most likely would have returned to that role, or something similar to it, within the Star Force Era’tran.”

“And what would he have said about this?” Rajamal asked, holding up the cube.

“That our primary obstacle was removing itself, exposing the two lessers.”

“Yet our primary enemy is leaving. It is they who issued the Deathmark upon us.”

“And it is the Oso’lon and J’gar that carried it out amongst their own ranks. Did you ever envision our limited forces overwhelming the Zak’de’ron?”

“I wanted to do more damage than we did,” he admitted, leaning back on a countertop as he stared at the message cube that he’d gone over 5 times in the past hour. “Now they’re going to be beyond our reach.”

“But the others are not.”

“It seems too fortuitous,” Rajamal admitted. “Our fight has been long and hard, and only the most bitter of us remain. The others have let go of the past to build a future in Star Force, and those foolish enough to do so beyond its territory are now dead. Our war never ended, but those inside Star Force were insulated from it. The Zak’de’ron would not strike them, and perhaps they finally saw the inevitability of that conflict and were unable to assume a less than dominant role in this galaxy.”

“That is what some of my sources told me.”

“But to have them all leave this galaxy and turn over their servants to Star Force…it sounds too good to be true, Theodral. It sounds like a trap.”

“That is why I made sure it was not before bringing it to you. Star Force has already assumed limited command of all their servant races. The Zak’de’ron ordered the transfer, so there was no need for combat. They simply transferred them, and are now deconstructing their worlds in preparation to leave.”

“Deconstructing?” Rajamal asked, not having read anything about that in his report.

“I could find no records of it, but I am told they do not intend to leave any trace of their existence in this galaxy for others to claim. It is said Itaru itself is being washed clean of all technology before it is turned over to Star Force.”

“That does sound more like the Zak’de’ron, rather than this capitulation.”

“Capitulation or relocation?” Theodral asked. “They are not actually surrendering, just cutting their garbage free and moving to a location beyond Star Force’s reach where they can rebuild.”

“And one day return?”

“Possibly, but that would be so far into the future it isn’t worth considering now. My point is, they are beaten, but not defeated. And soon they will be beyond our vengeance. Once they leave we must let our war with them disappear as well. But not with the others that remain.”

“I will never let it go, Theodral. Never. Not if they run through a thousand galaxies before crawling into a hole and hiding for all eternity. I will never forget or forgive the Deathmark they placed on us.”

“I meant in terms of future planning. Soon we will not need to consider them at all, and as such they will disappear from our lives and eventually our dreams unless they return, which is highly unlikely. We must focus on the vengeance before us. The vengeance we could not achieve while the Zak’de’ron protected them. The original V’kit’no’sat still exist in three. The primary is traveling beyond our reach. The other two are still here, broken and now unshielded. We have an opportunity, Rajamal.”

“And what of Star Force?”

“They have done nothing with the Oso’lon and J’gar that have not chosen to join them. Nor the worlds that aligned with the Zak’de’ron but did not actually serve them. They are still free, and as such subject to our wrath and conquest.”

“Conquest?”

“We cannot do what is necessary alone. And with the Zak’de’ron leaving, we do not have to remain rebels on the run. We can fight a proper war, if those who have been suppressed wish to join in the fight…if we show them how. If we don’t, predations may occur from lesser threats. The power vacuum will be massive if the J’gar and Oso’lon do not step in, and you know they will not in most areas. Star Force is blind to this conflict, and rightly so with the Hadarak on the other side of the line they arduously maintain.”

“I wish they would intervene, but you are right,” Rajamal said. “This is our fight. They survived and avenged their own Deathmark, and saved both the Ter’nat and the majority of the Zen’zat when we had nowhere to turn. It is up to us to finish this fight, and we will need allies. I did not think this day would ever come. And now it is thrust upon me so casually.”

“You did anticipate this day, or you would not have held onto the Zak’de’ron ships we salvaged.”

“I did not expect it to happen,” the Elder Zen’zat clarified. “But now we can finally seek the help we need in reverse engineering it.”

“From Star Force?”

“No. We will ask the Chitaeren. They are the most innovative race I have ever encountered, and they have already assisted us with small pieces of it.”

“I was not aware of that.”

“There is much you are not aware of. Things that I have kept to myself and to those directly involved should any of you ever be captured. I and I alone know all the secrets we hold.”

“As it should be. Were the Chitaeren part of the weapons packages?”

“They were. And we must assume control of their protection before others have chance to prey on them. With the Zak’de’ron gone, old rivalries will resume, and they have been slaves nearly all of their history. We shall preserve their freedom in exchange for their assistance.”

“As I said, you have been preparing for this day…expected or not.”

“Only in my dreams, Theodral.”

“They’re not dreams any more, commander,” the Zen’zat said, placing a fist over his chest as a gesture of respect as he walked backward a few steps and departed the primitive dwelling made of dried mud mixed with stone.

Rajamal looked at the cube again, not wanting to fully believe it and then have this moment ripped from him. He could not take that if it happened, and his mind was on guard to protect against it with a barrier of skepticism, but if Theodral had confirmed this, he had no reason to doubt it.

The Zak’de’ron were leaving. All of them. And soon.

Rajamal clasped the cube in his palm, unwilling to set it down, and walked outside the modest bunker he had been living out of for many years and into the dim sunlight. The view beyond was the same…canyons and scorch marks where the surface of this planet had been torn apart in an asteroid rain some millennia ago. And before that it had barely been inhabitable due to the lack of almost all water.

It was dry, desolate desert that lacked sand. Instead it was horrible terrain to travel over by foot, mostly rock with some dirt and cliff sides too sheer to scale. Nobody wanted to live here, which was why Rajamal did along with a cell of the rebel Zen’zat.

He walked outside and stopped two steps short of a drop-off that went down more than 100 meters, ignoring the common hazard as he looked up into the sky and the ring of more or less stable asteroids that circled the planet pole to pole. They formed a line that crossed overhead twice a day every day as the planet rotated beneath them with the promise of more deadly strikes in the future for anyone foolish enough to try and permanently inhabit the planet.

Inside those rings were a large number of Zen’zat ships, whether they be of their own construction or claimed from enemies and rebuilt. More were of the latter category than the former, and even in a desolate system like this they always had to hide. Even their habitats were built into the sides of the cliffs so to be out of sight from above, and made of local materials that could easily be abandoned when needed…as well as demolished with light explosives.

Rajamal had lived the life of a renegade for thousands of years now, so many that his past service to the V’kit’no’sat seemed like a dream…and his part in the war against Star Force when it was in its infancy even vaguer still. They had come so far since then, defying the V’kit’no’sat and the Zen’zat with a combination of will and luck that Rajamal could still not fathom. They’d pardoned him and the Zen’zat for their role in the war against them, letting go of that vengeance, but the Elder Zen’zat knew why.

They were not so stupid to leave an enemy at their backs, but they were wise enough to know when a former enemy was no longer a current one. The Zak’de’ron would never change, nor would the Oso’lon and J’gar that had refused to join Star Force. And a part of Rajamal was glad for it, because he did not want to forget what had happened. There needed to be an accounting, and while Star Force had a calmer way of enacting it, what was required in this war was blood. Those responsible for the Deathmark and those that carried it out had to be killed.

Anything less would be apathy for all the victims they casually murdered, and Rajamal would not forget them. Much time had passed since the majority of their deaths, but the Deathmark was still in effect on an unofficial basis. Any Zen’zat that tried to live freely disappeared. Rajamal had found several of the mercenary teams sent to destroy them, and from their interrogation he knew they had been hired to do what the Zak’de’ron and others could not without drawing Star Force’s wrath.

The war against the Zen’zat had never ended. Most just forgot that it existed with the Hadarak and everything else going on preempting their danger sense. What did it matter if a few million died here and there. That was standard attrition in the galaxy from a macro point of view. But when one had time to look and see what was occurring, it was unacceptable.

There were too many people in this galaxy to protect, and Rajamal did not fault Star Force at all. They were doing far better than he could have in their place, and they had saved the Zen’zat within their protective bubble. Rajamal could join them and be safe as well, but to do that would mean turning a back on those still outside it as well as all those whose deaths had not yet been avenged.

Star Force didn’t have time for vengeance when the galaxy was burning under the Hadarak assault. But Rajamal did. And he was not going to let this go until those responsible paid for their treachery in blood.

The Zak’de’ron were too powerful to beat in anything other than small battles, and there had been a few of those that resulted in trashed and nearly worthless captured ships from an operational standpoint. But it was Zak’de’ron technology that had led to the development of better weapons for the rebels than their predecessors had…though far inferior to what Star Force fielded and refused to share.

Rajamal had those victories as small payment against the Zak’de’ron, but soon that race would be beyond his touch…and their leaving was more relief to him than regret.

That was when he realized his ongoing fatigue. Not in a physical sense, but an emotional one. He was fighting a never-ending war…and had just been given a glimmer of hope for an actual, victorious ending.

Theodral was right about one thing. He could let the Zak’de’ron go…on the condition that they never come back. The Zen’zat had been at fault during the first war against them when the V’kit’no’sat decided to backstab their founders and all but annihilated them. That was before Rajamal was born, but the fact of that taint allowed his mind to give a bit of clemency to the Zak’de’ron on the condition they never return. And with that small epiphany he was able to let his vengeance against them be satisfied with their banishment from what was once their dominion.

But the other two…the Oso’lon and J’gar…had no such clemency. They deserved the fate that was going to come to them, and Star Force had ironically already drawn from them the isolated good within their ranks. All that remained, or nearly all, would be the rotten filth that had destroyed their own loyal Zen’zat in order to appease the Zak’de’ron after most had fled them to join Mak’to’ran’s ranks.

Those that had stayed did so because of their loyalty was greater than their wisdom…and their payment for that had been summary execution. The thought of that now still burned within Rajamal, who had once been equally loyal to the Rit’ko’sor…only to turn against them when they rebelled against the V’kit’no’sat because it was his duty to do so. Part of him still regretted that decision, and he had a private admiration for the Zen’zat who stayed with their assigned race regardless of circumstances.

And that is why their betrayal was extra scathing for him.

But now he had an opportunity to avenge them and wipe the galaxy clean of their betrayers. Not easily. Not even partially guaranteed. But a chance. A real chance, yet one that only a legendary feat could accomplish.

Rajamal’s legend had grown over the millennia of his life, and while his lack of service now appeared to make him a warrior without a war trying to relive his glory days, the truth was quite the opposite. His skills and strength were now greater than ever before, while it was his spirit that had suffered. This new revelation had changed that in a moment, and now the greatest challenge in his life was now before him…and he had the story of Mak’to’ran to learn from, for he was going to need to do much the same as that legendary rebel Era’tran did to build up a coalition capable of destroying the Primearch and the Didact…and if he managed to obtain even a portion of Zak’de’ron technology that he could implement in the field, that would be the game changer.

But right now the biggest thing he needed was a battle. A big battle to show the non-Star Force galaxy that the rebels were here and were not going away…as well as the fact that the Zak’de’ron would not intervene to stop them.

And for that he already had the necessary forces. All that was required was selecting a target…and hoping that Theodral’s information wasn’t flawed in some unfathomable way. He didn’t believe it was, but the rebel cells had been hiding for a reason, and if he called most of them together for a massive invasion that would last months if not years, then the Zak’de’ron would have the opportunity to move in and crush them.

But if they no longer had their servant races, and were truly on their way out of the galaxy, why would they care what happened to the Oso’lon and J’gar?

7

July 22, 154959

System 9923011 (Hadarak-Occupied Territory)

Contested Jumppoint, Low Stellar Orbit

Mak’to’ran stumbled as he left the De’shor’nak, barely able to stand after 18 hours of combat. His participation wasn’t needed every moment of it, but he had refused to leave and transfer control to one of the backup Era’tran standing by so long as he had the strength to continue, and fortunately the battle was won before that was necessary.

His personal Essence was low…very low. He’d expended much of it, and even the infusion of reserve amounts into his body was not taking like it normally would. He had to convert the new Essence to match his personal parameters, and that ability in him was near to burnt out after manipulating the NIM throughout the battle.

He hadn’t seen much of the latter combat, focusing through the fatigue on only his part in it, but what remained of the Hadarak had finally broken apart into small groups and were scattered around the system trying to draw the V’kit’no’sat forces apart from their primary weapon…but his people were too smart to fall for that bait. Right now they were in sole command of the jumpline to the PanNari location, and no more Hadarak were moving through it at present.

Mak’to’ran didn’t know the status of his ships. Many had to be damaged if not destroyed, but the bulk of his fleet was intact…he knew that much…but the rest was beyond him now as all he could manage to do was barely walk away from his duty post as the doors parted for him and one of his relief finally took his place on standby, for there currently was no ongoing combat.

The Elder Era’tran moved slowly, but did not require anyone’s assistance as he made his way through the ship to his personal quarters and onto a plush disc several meters thick, falling sideways with his tail and feet hanging off it, but he didn’t care. He needed rest in a way he could not fully articulate, and as soon as he hit the padded bedding he went motionless as his mind finally disconnected from his body. He reviewed what he knew of his performance and that of the fleet, with the biggest item in his limited consciousness was the time.

They would be jumping out to the PanNari soon rather than staying here and blockading only one of many avenues of reinforcements. And the jump to the neighboring system would take 1.6 days.

Mak’to’ran had that long to recover, for as massively epic as this battle had been…the greatest to date in his long life…he expected far more ahead. The Hadarak were insanely committed to this system, and as Mak’to’ran drifted off into quiet rest he wondered what could be so important to them to warrant this level of response…

The Era’tran woke on his own accord. No alarm or summons brought him out of his sleep, but rather his bladder. Apparently he had rested enough for it to assert dominance over his need for further recovery, and Mak’to’ran blinked his exposed left eye open thrice as his other lay smashed into the bedding.

He hadn’t moved a muscle since arriving, and a quick mental link to the telepathic node in his quarters confirmed the time and the ship’s position.

They were nearing the end of their jump, with an ETA of just under 3 hours.

Mak’to’ran moved…finding it extremely painful without possessing any injuries. He peeled himself out of the cavity within the pads, having to use his tail for leverage to get his hips up, then his giant head came last. He stumbled momentarily, but not from fatigue. Rather the stiffness from such a long, unnatural sleep. Normally he would adjust position every hour or so, and not doing so now had aching consequences.

His Essence was still low, but he wasn’t feeling burnt like before. He walked over to a nearby pedestal that served as a table and telekinetically flew a jeweled bracelet to his right wrist, whereupon contact he infused himself with stored Essence and found it assimilated with ease, gradually restoring his natural levels to full after a few minutes of acclimation.

As that occurred he went to the anterior compartment and relieved himself in the shield river that ran through a narrow chamber up to his knees. His excess biomatter dropped into the river and stuck there, being pulled along to the far side as the staticy river cleaned any skin exposed to it.

The Zen’zat used seats to relieve themselves, but the biology of the V’kit’no’sat was considerably different, and as such they were built to release material from their normal standing position, as were most quadrupeds and angled bipeds. Why the tiny Zen’zat were not had always puzzled him, for few races in the galaxy had such a limitation.

Nevertheless, each race had their own accommodations onboard the DinoThunder, and once Mak’to’ran finished relieving himself he raised the level of the translucent energy field up to his neck, keeping it out of his eyes or it would dry and chaff them. When needed he would close them and dip his neck down into the flow, and only a few times were necessary to remove the light amount of grime he had on him.

Once fully cleaned he left his chambers and went for a short, painful run to loosen himself up before eating and then heading up to the command deck to witness their arrival in the system. He would not be able to operate the primary weapon again this soon without a deleterious effect, so this time he was going to be able to direct the fighting…assuming the PanNari were still alive to be assisted. If not, his fleet would have to leave if facing the kind of enemy numbers he feared were ahead.

“My respect, Hakja,” Junobu said as Mak’to’ran walked onto the command deck and exchanged places with his senior commander. “I did not think you had that kind of strength in you. You did not relinquish the De’shor’nak once during combat?”

“I was not going to until my strength failed me, and I was close to it by the end. What did we lose?”

“No ships were lost, but 21% of our remote craft were destroyed or too damaged to remain in combat. Their salvage was recovered before we jumped, and the recyclers are working to reprocess as much as we can with haste.”

“Essence levels?”

“82% remain. That battle was the fiercest I have ever witnessed, in person or on record.”

“I did not see as much as I would have liked, but I concur. What lies ahead will be worse, I fear.”

“The Hadarak have never hit a single Grand Border system with this might. Have they been holding back?”

“That thought occurred to me during the battle, but I did not have time to analyze.”

“I have been going over the records since we left. Never have we seen this density before.”

“The Grand Border is widespread,” Mak’to’ran commented. “Perhaps they seek to weaken it to destruction more than a single penetration?”

“If the objective is to get through it, that is not the most prudent course.”

“Then what is their objective?”

“A question I do not have the answer for. If I were in their position and intent on destroying all opposition, I would penetrate the border and eliminate the supply lines feeding it. Facing us at our strongest with our reinforcements untouched is the most inefficient method of combat I can imagine.”

“No. There is one more inefficient.”

Junobu frowned, then caught on. “The Grand Border was seen as comical in theory, but is now the very thing that keeps us all alive. Efficient it is not, I agree. But it is effective.”

“Perhaps they are testing how effective.”

“You suggest they play with us for knowledge rather than go for the kill?”

“Is that not what they have done to us the entire existence of the V’kit’no’sat?” Mak’to’ran challenged.

The other Era’tran growled. “You state the obvious that I have forgot. I barely remember our time before Star Force.”

“You did not live as much of it as I did, but I too have grown accustomed to the new order. I like the superiority of it, but I do not forget the past.”

“Then perhaps they have never fought us at full strength…but why pull reinforcements from other galaxies for a partial effort?”

“Not partial, but perhaps targeted in a way we do not yet understand. It is clear that this PanNari discovery is more important to them than us.”

“We may need more than this fleet to hold it,” Junobu noted.

“That depends on what we find, and how many PanNari remain.”

“If any.”

“Regardless, there is a mystery here to solve. Only then will we know what future deployments are necessary.”

“We are nearing the brake point. How do you wish us to enter the system?”

“High. We do not risk encountering combat immediately. We need information before we proceed.”

“The deck is yours,” Jumobu said, retreating to an auxiliary station where he would oversee the primary command duties for the ship, but not the fleet.

Mak’to’ran stepped forward and his feet made contact with the silver circle beneath them, allowing him full access to the tactical grid where he issued final alignment orders for the fleet when it came out of its jump…but they were going to have to slam on the reverse thrust hard to come out as high as he wanted.

Their capacitors were fully charged after more than a day of coasting, but most of the larger ships would have to nearly drain them to get the necessary leverage on the gravity well…meaning their combat capability immediately after arriving would be limited by approximately 40%. The active generation of power would sustain the rest of the ship’s functions, but for maximum effect the capacitors were needed for the more energy hungry functions.

Limited sensors of the road ahead were coming back in the negative for obstructions, so when the fleet decelerated it came out into empty space with the pair of central stars being two orbs in the far distance backlighting multiple swarms all across the system…including several large objects that were not planets, nor Wardens.

“What are those?” Junobu demanded of the crew, but the passive sensor analysis came back with similarities and nothing affirmative. They were not in the Hadarak playbook as far as Star Force knew.

“Now we see some of their true might,” Mak’to’ran said, looking at the spindley corkscrews that were thousands of miles long and made the DinoThunder look small in comparison, though most of their internal structure was empty space.

“A support ship,” the lead Era’tran analyst said a few moments later. “I’m seeing numerous docking cavities. Perhaps industrial.”

“They can’t grow what they need here,” Mak’to’ran mused. “So they have to bring it in, and a Warden isn’t suitable. Why?”

“Surface area,” the analyst said immediately. “That design isn’t meant for combat, but maximum docking capability.”

“What is docking with it?” Mak’to’ran asked, knowing that their minions were expendable and the Mainline ships and Wardens could feed on their own.

“Unknown at this distance.”

“Mak’to’ran,” Junobu said, adjusting the main tactical hologram to one of the planets in the system…around which there was a carpet of minions so thick you could not see the surface.

“A blockade?” he said, barely comprehending the numbers he was witnessing as the comm system activated and another smaller holo of a squid-like ship appeared before Mak’to’ran.

“Identify mission,” the Elloquim Vetrava said flatly in V’kit’no’sat, with its position now being registered not too far ahead along this jumpline…though a moment ago it had not been there. At least not on passive sensors, and their active ones were still on their way out and yet to return except for nearby objects…and there were many in the form of tiny debris in a carpet that was continuing to stretch in towards the star as the active bounce-back continued to register, but not the Elloquim until just now.

“I am Mak’to’ran, leader of the V’kit’no’sat. We have come to investigate why you are holding onto this system, and to assist you with combat operations against the Hadarak.”

“Be warned. Danger level of operating in this system is beyond anything encountered before. Your assistance is welcomed due to the gravity of the situation, but do not be lulled into a false sense of superiority. These Hadarak are not fighting the same way as previous encounters. These are far more ruthless.”

“Explain the tactical situation.”

“We possess critical infrastructure on the planet, buried below the surface. An ongoing assault via ground is occurring despite several Elloquim having physically attached to the planet in a defense ring. The remainder of us are scattered across the system attempting to draw their forces away from the planet or succumb them to devastating counterattacks. They have not budged from the planet and are accepting the massive losses we are dealing them out here in order to keep maximum pressure on the surface.”

“What is on the surface that you hold?”

“Something very ancient that the Hadarak have only recently possessed and used against us in extreme limited fashion. It is called Maty, and has the ability to fabricate surveillance drones with near perfect cloaking devices. The Hadarak have them deployed along a portion of the Grand Border. We backtracked the efficiency of their visible forces to this location and discovered the facility. It was built by a race of machines that have long since left this galaxy after a cataclysm. We have laid claim to it, V’kit’no’sat, and we will not relinquish it to the Hadarak or to Star Force.”

“Can you hold it?” Mak’to’ran said, dismissing the challenge inherent in that statement.

“No.”

“What’s the status of your fleet?”

“Destroyed. Only the Elloquim remain. Their swarms consume everything else.”

Mak’to’ran visibly winced. He’d seen the number of ships that had passed through the Grand Border. Losing all of them was a horrific loss, even if the most valuable Elloquim still lived.

“And the surface?”

“Blocked from their approach, but they are digging tunnels that we are attempting to seal in never-ending counteractions. Our forces inside the Maty have it secured, but the pressure is constant and our reinforcements minimal. We cannot hold it indefinitely.”

“Why are you still here then?”

“We will die before we lose it.”

Mak’to’ran huffed. “What value is a suicide mission like that when the outcome is your total destruction? Do you have a short term mission of such great value?”

“We are reverse-engineering the technology of the Maty, and every day we hold it we grow stronger. We will not relinquish it under any circumstances.”

“How will you get this information back to the other PanNari?”

“I am not trapped here. Only those on the planet are.”

“Is this technology valuable for you to possess, or for you to solely possess?”

“If possession of the Maty itself is not disputed, we are willing to bargain for your assistance.”

There. That’s what Mak’to’ran had been expecting. Logic rather than blind fervor.

“Why do the Hadarak want it so badly?”

“It comes from an ancient power greater than them, and contains records of places and events across this galaxy from before either of our races existed. There are more than one of these facilities in this galaxy, but none others have been discovered. They are places of great power, but also built to facilitate the education of lesser races and individuals who would travel here to learn. That knowledge the Hadarak have already partially assimilated. The real power is that of the Gahana, and the Hadarak cannot access it easily in their biological state. The Gahana were living machines such as us, only far more advanced. Their legacy will accelerate our development by millions of years at the minimum. Do you understand the significance for us now, Era’tran?”

“Are the previous owners going to return for it at some point?”

“They cannot. This galaxy became toxic for them, and the conditions of that toxicity are still present. It is a lost relic that we shall possess.”

“Granted,” Mak’to’ran agreed. “And we will help you secure it in exchange for access to the relic and your promise of no discovery being hidden from us. We may not be living machines, but there may be useful upgrades for our non-living ones.”

“We only agree to your terms because we cannot allow the Hadarak to possess this place again. We are willing to die to achieve this if necessary, and do not like sharing the dominance the secrets will provide, but the Hadarak response to our taking it from them has been more severe than anticipated. We require assistance for permanent possession.”

“Then we are here to make our first contribution. Where can we best assist you in killing them?”

The Elloquim’s response came not in words, but a datapacket outlining every weak point in the Hadarak positions across the system and on the 8th planet where the Maty was located, and some 18 Elloquim were partially buried in the crust around it, protecting it with their mass and weaponry, though the information showed continual damage they were repairing in a race against attrition as the Hadarak swarms above continually made attack runs at them to wear them down in addition to the overland assaults coming from much further away.

Mak’to’ran saw a sea of minions around the location, moving across the ground and being destroyed so quickly it wasn’t worth effort…but they kept coming and coming, and the information on those support ships made clear the reason why they could keep up that continual slaughter.

They were growth ships continually fueling the ground assault with new blood as harvesters were collecting resources from around the system and within the stars to produce a never-ending stream of them.

Mak’to’ran waved off the comm channel and brought up the system map in more detail as he summoned over his top minds to the center of the command deck to help him plan the best use of their fleet amongst so many…too many…available targets.

8

September 30, 154959

System 9923004 (Hadarak-Occupied Territory)

8th planet

Every day Kyra was in battle. Every day without exception since she had landed inside the great complex now known as ‘Maty.’ The others were known as Snoejy, Buenzy, and Teurty, and their locations had been determined by the numerous Craniem now located inside Maty that Kyra and many more QuipNari were fighting to protect. They knew they couldn’t win this war. They knew they couldn’t hold Maty forever. But the longer they did the more knowledge the Craniems would deceipher from the operating systems and database, and each day they held out their race would advance by leaps and bounds.

It was the single most important task Kyra and the others had ever been a part of, and in truth, she knew that was also true of the Elloquim and every other PanNari in this system…including all of those who had died. Kyra had expected to join them eventually, for she’d been injured near death twice already, but that did diminish her eagerness to face the swarms of Hadarak sneaking their way into the Maty. It was her quest now, and fatigue was not an issue most days as she rode around inside a Kel’zat and went diving into the worst of the fighting.

The sentries and other attack drones the PanNari had brought with them were also in play, but the Maty was so huge they couldn’t defend all of it, only certain sections, and the Gahana technology was proving to be far more battle worthy than their own…most of which had been reduced to trash that other teams were collecting and recycling inside Nevantha and the other closest Elloquim who had burrowed tunnels down to certain entrances and now had a direct linkage to them encased in Nam’sti’tri molded armor hundreds of meters thick.

The Elloquim produced it in a liquid state, then poured it down through the cracks in the bedrock around their burrow points, then hit it with a specific frequency of energy that caused it to solidify within minutes as a chain reaction took place. One exposure up top would eventually bind all of it together, and it was proving to be an effective means of keeping the Hadarak out of the comm and cargo links to the nearby Elloquim who were using their internal factories at maximum capacity to produce more ground units to supplement what the Maty itself was releasing from storage.

But the Craniems could not yet get it to actively produce more than low level products. The Kel’zats were still beyond their reach, though those that were in storage were now prowling the Maty on their own for the most part and hunting down Hadarak…as well as a few of the PanNari attack drones when they moved into an area of the Maty that they didn’t want them in. Kyra was in full control of hers, up until it would get damaged or destroyed, then she’d have to operate on foot until she could find another to conscript in the field or have a Craniem recall one for her if they could manage to figure out how…for not all of them were operating under the same command codes, and none could be remotely controlled from afar, only given ‘suggestions,’ and even the now relinked Elloquim could not command all of them the same way they could PanNari machinations.

Right now Kyra was between rides, for her last Kel’zat had one of its four limbs torn off completely, and eventually it decided to retreat for repairs even when Kyra told it to keep fighting. Some programming in it overrode the manual control and she couldn’t figure out where it was yet, but she did know that there were levels of ownership to a Kel’zat, and based on that level you could do more things with it. Initially all she could do was ride and point out what it needed to do, but the more she learned it…and the Craniems and Elloquim decoded the massively complex machines…the more manual operation was available, but whatever triggered the recall had been beyond her control, and in retrospect was probably the wiser action rather than lose the entire Kel’zat.

But she’d had to leave behind two other QuipNari in the process, and so far neither of them had made it back. That didn’t mean they were dead, for there was a comms blackout now in place inside the Maty that hadn’t been there before. Every wall blocked it, and she’d been told that it also blocked the telepathy the Hadarak used, which was why they were fighting less effectively than normal despite their constantly regenerating numbers.

Kyra spotted targets down the hallway and fired off her shoulder-mounted energy rockets, whipping the tiny glowing orbs down the distance towards the flying minions half as big as herself that were rounding a corner. As she did several sentries and gogorum attack drones fired off a series of beams and chipped energy blasts that looked like little bananas flying through the air if you slowed down the visual replay long enough to look.

Either way, the minions took the brunt of the mostly accurate firepower, dropping to the floor in gory pieces as more came around the corner to replace them…along with some of the zerglings and a few larger varieties that had never been seen in combat before by the PanNari or Star Force. They were half as fast, but thicker and essentially walking bombs full of acid that would go off if you got close enough in numbers…but a single target wouldn’t trigger them, because the acid would also kill the minions around them.

They were obviously tasked with hitting groups of enemies with the suicide explosion where it made mathematical sense…which was why Kyra sprinted ahead of the drones and started firing at the fat ones as she had to jump over and on some of the zerglings to get past them, kicking one in the face and having to do a somersault as her foot stuck more in its mouth than she’d wanted. She shot another at pointblank range then launched herself over another pair as she continued to evade her way through the minion flow up towards the first of the living bombs and attacked it from range…but there were too many zerglings in the way and they took all the hits.

Kyra gritted her teeth inside her helmet. Her shielding was already taking a lot of damage from the flyers, and the zerglings were getting bites at her legs every now and then with their single fang inside their mouths that worked as a shield drainer…while the rest of their teeth were meant for flesh and light armor. But the QuipNari didn’t care, for she had to get to the ‘pots’ before they got to the attack drones. Because the acid, if thrown onto a shield, would drain the shield and expose it to the rest of the minion weapons. So either way, the little pots were far more effective weapons than the rest of the minions so long as they had cover to get up to you…and this wave didn’t look to be a scouting party, but rather the head of another insertion column, coming from where Kyra didn’t know.

She couldn’t communicate with the Craniems, let alone Nevantha, to find out unless there was a line of sight link back from drone to drone, and in some cases they maintained that, but the Maty’s own communication system was in lockdown mode since it went battle active to fight the Hadarak, and the Craniems didn’t know how to undo the procedure they had accidentally triggered…though the active defense of the Maty’s guardians was far more help, but it left those QuipNari and attack drones fighting in the complex without an active map to operate off of.

Fortunately they all had downloaded ones of certain areas, but stray out of those areas into somewhere new that no PanNari had gone and you’d be navigating blind.

Up ahead Kyra’s map ended, so she didn’t know where these minions could be coming from. The QuipNari just knew they had to be stopped before they got to one of the Craniems…which had to be scattered all over the Maty in order to access different parts of it, for the Gahana had not made infiltrating its systems and assuming control easy by any stretch of the imagination, even for another machine race, and the Elloquim only had access to areas near the entry points that could maintain full security at all times, otherwise their tethers would be cut and have to be rebuilt.

But the Gahana had made assuming control possible using merit gates rather than alphanumeric passcodes that could be eventually hacked by systematic attempts, even if the number of those attempts were limited during a given period of time.

The merit gates assured that no primitive could access even the most basic systems given an eternity of trying, but the PanNari…even the Elloquim and their direct links…were not as advanced as the Gahana had been, so they were having to learn and grow in order to access more and more of the Maty, and the more Craniems they had working the problem in multiple places, the faster their collective knowledge would become.

And that was also why the comm chains between all the Craniems had to be kept intact, so they could share what they learned immediately. And not too far behind where Kyra currently was there lay one of those limited wireless data lines…and these minions were not going to get to it today.

Kyra stopped firing and started punching and kicking her way through, then leapt up on the sidewall and clung to it with the bottoms of her armored feet in order to get a shot at the nearest pot. The zerglings tried to jump on top of it to block her, but they weren’t quick enough and didn’t fully block her line of sight…and Kyra didn’t hold back, firing a shotgun-like barrage of all her weapons at once…with the pot being cleaved in half for a moment before the explosive decompression of its contents blanketed the zerglings all around it…who also shielded Kyra from most of the blast.

They melted apart within seconds, dying to their own weapons, but a few tiny splatters got through and sucked 18% of her shield strength down in a flick of liquid smaller than raindrops. How it was so effective was an ongoing mystery for the Craniems, for the acid didn’t last long enough to be analyzed.

Kyra scooped up one of the droplets in her right hand, lowering her shields over it and letting it burn into her armor and skin as she turned around and ran back towards the sentries, calling for help over her short range comm. The pain in her hand could be ignored, but even that data might be helpful so Kyra didn’t dial back her biological senses, and in the process of her running she involuntarily puked, stumbling into two zerglings who took advantage of her misstep and jumped onto her torso and wrapped their claws around her neck, sawing back and forth trying to get through to her head.

The weight tipped her down, but with her good hand she shot one of them off while the other was already through her neck shields and working on her armor, filing it down like sandpaper as its spit mixed with the shards and formed a paste that actually helped accelerate the friction damage.

Warnings flared, but her hand was giving her the most trouble, so Kyra bent over and grasped it against her abdomen and twisted her body in a sideways leap, moving her and the zergling across the hall and into the wall where she smacked it hard, but it didn’t let go, and three more jumped on her now that she wasn’t running evasively.

Topaz beams burned through them, and the one clinging to her neck, barely having inches to spare from missing her throbbing body as she tried to shake them…then the pressure relented as they were all dead, and Kyra jumped into a run back towards the nearest sentry that had shot them off, diving under its floating torso for cover as more came and jumped on it in a wave of reinforcements that had a pot with them.

Kyra scrambled to get away as two more sentries and a walking gogorum moved up to form a line and they took the next pot hit. Their shields went down immediately, then the acid began to eat through their armor but not enough to destroy it. All the minions around them melted, and the next wave to come through died as well, stepping on the acid on the floor, but eventually their corpses covered it and they jumped onto the damaged attack drones whose weapons were mostly incapacitated, but they held their ground and bought Kyra time as she ran and ran back through the other attack drones, keeping what was left of her hand tucked up against her abdomen as the pain made it hard to focus enough to keep from tripping.

Everything she was experiencing, her biological senses to her technological ones, she was transmitting through the drones back to the line that linked the Craniems, so they could see what she had done when the moving drones came into alignment around various corners. It wasn’t instantaneous, for there were moving units all over, but her proximity to one of the fixed lines meant they were already getting her information long before she got there.

A floating cargo unit met her first, escorted by four sentries, and Kyra was ordered to jump onto it. She did so clumsily, and had to drag her right leg on with the help of one of the sentries’ gun barrels, because her right hand and now arm were totally inoperable, yet stuck in one position. The acid had worked its way up her arm with her blood flow, and though it was now all consumed, the damage remained.

Kyra was told to deactivate, and she gladly did so, cutting out the pain and all vision and senses, and simply becoming cargo that would be taken back to a secure area so her wounds could be further analyzed in an attempt to ascertain exactly what the acid was made of. In lieu of actually examining the material, the next best thing was to analyze that which it reacted with and try to infer backwards how those molecular alterations had occurred.

Given that biological matter melted on contact, there wasn’t anything left to analyze in most cases. But Kyra’s exposure had been so small she now had burned out tissue along several tracts in her body, and the points where the intact tissue met those areas should hold some valuable information.

It was a gamble, but she had seen the opportunity and taken it. Now it was up to the Craniems and their medical scanners, for Kyra’s internal systems were limited for the kind of in depth analysis needed…and the last thing they wanted right now was for Kyra to heal, so along with her shutdown order was a secondary order to deactivate her mechanical augments to her healing abilities.

They needed her damaged body as it was, and Kyra was glad not to need to be awake during the examination process.

9

October 3, 154959

System 9923004 (Hadarak-Occupied Territory)

8th planet

Kyra was awoken by an external cue, coming back to consciousness without pain and waking inside a PanNari facility. That much she could tell from the structure before her interlink woke up enough to pinpoint her location.

She was no longer inside the Maty, but rather outside it and back inside Nevantha…and her arm and hand had been repaired, mechanically and organically.

“The data you collected was valuable,” the Elloquim spoke to her as a hologram of his squid-like shape appeared beside the bed where she half laid, now propping her torso up with her arms as she downloaded information about her repairs.

“Do we know what it is?”

“The suicide of minion variant 328 is not only explosive biology, but also Essence collection. It charges the acid to exceed physical predictability. That was why we could not determine its cause previously.”

“Do we have a countermeasure?”

“Not in total, but we now know what materials and shield frequencies are more resistant to the basic structure. Our knowledge of Essence is limited, so we have requested Star Force analyze our findings. They have responded by demanding an in person team be allowed into the Maty in order to confront and capture one of the 328s.”

“How are they going to get through the blockade?” Kyra asked, sitting up all the way and swinging her naked legs off the edge of the bed and swaying them back and forth experimentally. She had pose-induced stiffness, but it wasn’t too extreme.

“They already have. Their team is waiting below.”

“Waiting for what?”

“Your revival. I am assigning you to be their guide.”

Kyra hopped down, her legs wobbling a bit, but not as much as her breasts. She wore no clothing, which was typical onboard Nevantha, for she needed none. But going into combat required protection.

“My armor?”

A panel in the wall opened to reveal a slightly different variant from the suit she had worn before, and Kyra raised an eyebrow in the direction of the hologram.

“I made some minor modifications while your tissue regrew. It will have greater resistance to the acid and the ability to interface with the Star Force comms.”

Kyra walked over to it, spun around, then stepped backward into the metallic suit as it opened for her and seemingly swallowed up her pale flesh inside, covering every square inch of her body, including her face, with no openings for breath or vision.

“Ready,” she said, with the floor dropping out from under her as the compartment she was standing in was moved rapidly through Nevantha’s interior enroute to the tendril connecting him to one of the Maty’s entrances…

5 months later…

Paul-024 kicked forward as he twisted his hips, with Morgan-063 sliding under him and getting a punch in to his left hip…but his body jerked so fast his other hip rotated over on top of her and he shoved her to the ground with a Jumat blast before she could counter.

Morgan bounced back up, covering herself with a bioshield, but Paul wasn’t there. Instead he was standing 3 meters away staring down at her with a cruel smile.

“Stop it,” she said calmly. “I know that look.”

“Is it the ‘I’m better than you’ or the ‘it’s overpowered’ look?” he scoffed.

“Your horizontal movement is way faster than Yen’mer allows,” she said, referencing the flight psionic that got the majority of its power going up or down as it opposed or enhanced gravity. Sideways movements were always lesser, because you had to pull or push against a slice of the planet on the horizon and not the core, thus there was less mass and less gravity to work with. “You’re using it, aren’t you?”

“Yen’mer? I always have.”

“Paul…”

He leaned forward into a combat stance. “Figure it out, tiny.”

He didn’t let her get a reply in, darting forward and throwing several punches…all of which she dodged by inches…then he threw a body-generated Jumat blast into her at close range, attempting to knock her backwards, but Morgan was ready for it.

Paul’s Jumat blast bounced backward, and not from the physical hit. It landed with nearly full strength on his own body, knocking him back instead of Morgan. He almost got his balance on his flailing feet, but he lost it and tipped over…then froze in partial fall and righted himself in the air, ending up in a low crouch on the ground as this time it was Morgan who held off and scoffed at him.

“How?” he demanded.

“Cav,” she said simply, citing the Tier 4 psionic that worked to reflect other psionics back on their user.

“That doesn’t work on Jumat,” Paul said, standing up. “The energy matrix is too weak…unless you found a way to enhance it?”

“Or maybe your attack was just so paltry it didn’t matter.”

“Alright then,” Paul said, getting back into another combat stance. “I’ll just beat it out of you.”

“Do try,” Morgan said, going on the offensive with a Jumat blast straight off from her cupped hands Goku style, then when Paul braced against it she darted forward, faking a chest high punch, then dipped down and kicked into Paul’s right leg.

The impact hit, but didn’t do as much damage as she was used to given his larger body. Still it knocked his balance out from him and he had to roll to the right, otherwise her foot would have dragged his leg further away from where it was meant to be. Morgan expected that and launched herself upwards into his abdomen, wrapping her arms around his waist and pushing him over in a cartwheel as she flung/flew her body around his making half a circle, then when she got her feet back on the ground she lifted him and continued the twirl twice more before finally releasing him at an angle into the air.

He didn’t go far, for suddenly both were caught in an Ubven field that stopped his momentum flat, then he dropped it before Morgan could use her own to cut through it and punched her in the face with his left hand as she dodged an attack from his right, knocking her back a step.

“There,” she said, standing and not counterattacking. “How the hell did you move like that?”

“Currents,” he said, launching at her again and this time using a Lachka grasp on her ankles to yank her feet out of her before she countered with her Yen’mer and flew up and away from him while washing her feet with Rentar to break his invisible grasp. As she did she used her Si’mosa and hurled a pair of fist sized solid Jumat ‘stones’ towards him, with one hitting him in the nose so hard it broke it.

“Ow,” Paul said, breaking off his attack and cupping his two nostrils with his fingers as at least one of them started to bleed.

“Sorry. Reflex,” she said honestly. “You’re too good to hold back on.”

Paul concentrated for a moment and she heard a light ‘click’ as his nose snapped back into place, then a few seconds later he let go of his momentary healing surge and sniffed to ensure the blood flow had been stopped as well.

“How did you reflect the Jumat?”

“A little Essence alteration I developed a while ago,” she admitted.

“And you didn’t feel like sharing?”

“No,” she admitted. “Not until I got better at it.”

“Seems to work fine now.”

“What did you mean by currents?”

“The Saiolum isn’t still. It’s like an atmosphere with currents and eddies everywhere. If I catch one at the right direction, my movement speed can be enhanced by it. If I catch an opposite one, my movement speed is diminished.”

“It’s never constant?”

“Afraid not. Kind of like rolling dice. You never know what you’re going to end up with until you try, though I am getting better at reading it right before I try to do something.”

“But you still can’t move other things with it?”

“Not unless I connect them to myself, and I don’t know how to do that yet.”

“Yoda holding you back?”

“I don’t have the prerequisites yet,” he said as the distant doorway to their sparring chamber opened and Jason walked in unannounced.

“Who invited you?” Morgan asked.

“Got something for Azoro,” he said, palming a holocube which he activated only once he got to the center of the ring where his slightly taller co-captain and the mini-me version of Morgan stood. Paul extended a battlemeld to both of them, and soon Morgan could sense Paul’s mind and his connection to Azoro, who was in fact here and monitoring, and when he spoke to Paul’s mind he could speak to them as well through the link.

“Do you recognize this?” Jason said, producing a hologram of a symbol he had never seen before.

I do not, Azoro said in Paul’s mind.

“What about this?” Jason asked, switching to a diagram of the Maty.

It is unfamiliar.

“What about the name Gahana?”

A legend we heard in passing when we occupied this galaxy. Gods of all knowledge, I believe they were called by several races. I remember because we were mistaken for them upon arrival.

“You were there at the onset?” Paul asked.

I said ‘we’. I was not part of this galaxy’s colonial team, but I saw reports from it. I remember the name because of the comparison.

“Well, we have more than a name now. The Hadarak found this structure buried on one of their planets and have been using its high tech cloaking surveillance drones to monitor a portion of the Grand Border and organize their attacks more effectively. Nothing has gotten through, but the PanNari detected the mathematical anomaly and tracked it back to its source.”

“Then sent that huge armada after it,” Paul said, connecting the two. “Why is it so valuable to them?”

“Mak’to’ran went after them to find out. We just got word back from him that he’s made a pact with the PanNari for a knowledge share of the facility he has granted them possession of if we can mutually hold it. The Hadarak have been holding back on the Grand Border and playing us for fools. They’re going all in for this complex, which is called ‘Maty.’ Mak’to’ran says he has never seen this level of combat, and estimates their combined forces can hold out no longer than two years. He is requesting a massive reinforcement to hold the location.”

What is it? Azoro asked before Paul could.

“A machine race built it as sort of an embassy to the galaxy long ago, then some cataclysm made this galaxy uninhabitable and the survivors had to leave. The technology in it is supposedly far superior to the PanNari’s, and our own. The fact that the Hadarak want it so bad is also concerning. For they weren’t able to access much of it, and the PanNari are having a hard time on their own despite their machine mind meld.”

“I’m fairly good at that mind meld as well,” Paul reminded him.

“That’s reason number two that you and me are going to take a field trip there along with a few of our friends.”

“What’s a few?” Morgan asked.

“I think we have to launch the invasion early to secure this system. Mak’to’ran is adamant about it, and Davis is looking over it now. Either way, you and me need to be there.”

“Why you?” Morgan asked. “Yoda only speaks to him.”

“Because when we fight together, nobody outmatches us,” Jason said pithily, raising a finger at her before she could say the cliché reply. “Not even the twins.”

“Not since you went Furyan,” Morgan amended.

“Not even before that,” Paul added. They may have broken Paul and Jason’s record…a few of their records…but they’d never eclipsed them in real time, for as fast as Karen and Travis developed, Paul and Jason always kept at least a few steps ahead of them.

“The Maty complex is compromised with ground assault. The Hadarak will not assault it with ramming. They want it alive. So they’re spamming an insane number of units, some of which we’ve never seen before, from some giant minion production ships we’ve never seen before.”

“Damn it,” Paul said in a whisper. He had a feeling they’d been holding back.

“Ditto,” Jason echoed.

“So there’s a lot of hand to hand going on inside?” Morgan asked.

“An unlimited supply,” Jason confirmed.

She sighed contently, placing her hands on her hips and starring up at both of them. “I’m in.”

“Not sure if you make the height requirement,” Jason said, eliciting the glare he hoped for.

Show me their attack forces, Azoro demanded.

Jason adjusted the holocube and displayed three different images side by side, all of which were moving. The first was the situation inside the complex. The second was the mind boggling blockade around the planet…with numerous Elloquim half buried on the surface around the facility. The third made Paul’s breath catch as he saw the system schematic followed by little tendrils producing additional holograms of new units and ships.

“Thought I was exaggerating, did you?” Jason said.

“Azoro?”

“We never encountered these units. Either they were not used against us, or they are new designs. It’s possible the Hadarak have been managing both of our empires without using their full force to do it, but I doubt that in my time. However, they have had a great deal of opportunity to advance since then. They may be trying to learn from you as much as destroy you.”

“Like they did with the V’kit’no’sat,” Morgan added, punching her first into her palm. “They’re going to pay for that oversight.”

“How much does this throw off our calculations?” Jason asked Paul.

“We can’t be sure how much they might still be holding back. I’m more concerned about how we’re structured. If we make a preliminary move to secure this one system rather than move the entire Grand Border into assault mode, I think we can use it as a stepping stone…and one to draw out some more surprises the Hadarak have been holding back on us.”

“Still think there’s a master race controlling them?” Jason asked.

Yes, Azoro said firmly.

“So does the master race want this place, or the Hadarak?” Paul followed.

This could lead into a confrontation you are not ready for, Azoro warned. But conceding this place to the Hadarak would be unwise if it has reconnaissance units beyond the Hadarak’s current capabilities. Does your information say when this race inhabited this galaxy?

“Yeah, almost forgot to mention that,” Jason said apologetically. “Since the place is pretty much a library it has a clock running. Timestamp of its construction is 22.84 billion years ago, and it was abandoned 3.61 billion years ago. So that’s before you guys, right?”

It is, Azoro said wistfully. And the structure is still intact? Regenerative infrastructure?

“Mak’to’ran said the material does not decay, though that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have repair bots in case something gets damaged…”

Only one race I know of had technology that fabricated molecular structures impervious to long term decay, and their secrets died with them. The fragments of their technology were taken by many, including the Sha’kier, but we could never uncover how they were created. If his report is true, many will want it if they know it exists. Where is the location?

Jason brought up a map on the holocube showing it deep into Hadarak-controlled space.

This is fortunate. No one but the Hadarak and the PanNari know of it. Show me all records that were sent.

Jason tossed the cube into Paul’s hand. “I’m going to go have a chat with Davis. You’re welcome to join us once Azoro is caught up.”

“Is he wavering?” Paul asked.

“He senses opportunity and a trap, and doesn’t want to throw away all our preparations by launching too soon. Once we leave the Grand Border we leave all the infrastructure behind us. If we mess this up we’ll be rebuilding forever before we can try it again…but you know that better than I do.”

“Yes I do. Thank you for pointing out the obvious for Morgan,” Paul said deadpan.

“My naval skills are still higher than yours,” Morgan said to Jason.

“Barely,” he admitted as he turned and jogged off as Paul began to flip through various holograms for Azoro.

Morgan watched him leave and the battlemeld link break from his end, sending a few choice telepathic words directly to him before turning to Paul. “How big is this?”

“I’m not sure. At the minimum there’s technology there that we don’t have, but there also appears to be galactic record-keeping all the way up to the present.”

“It’s been keeping watch on us?”

“Partially I think. But not in a comprehensive…ah there, I see it. Survey missions sampling the galaxy looking for particular trends. I don’t think it has enough capability…at least not in its current state…to do much more than that.”

“Current state?”

Paul looked down at her shorter frame. “I’m not joking, ok?”

“Ok. About what?”

“I think it can transform…and even move…if directed to.”

“Wait…” Morgan said cautiously. “He said machines…”

“Yeah. There are no pictures of the Gahana that we’ve found yet, but the technology indicated and some of the choice records that Mak’to’ran sent…”

“I’m going with you. Period,” Morgan said firmly.

“I get the feeling this is going to be a class trip regardless of what Davis decides.”

Morgan stood up on her tiptoes and kissed Paul’s bare, sweaty shoulder. “See you later, giganto.”

“Where you going?” Paul said, not looking at her as his eyes were focused on the holograms as she began to head to the door.

“For a shower…then some arm twisting if Davis needs it.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he said, still rifling through the holograms.

“For the shower? Is Kara busy?” she said, holding the comment for the moment she turned out the door so when Paul’s head came up she was already gone.

“Fucker…” he muttered, then looked back down at the holograms at Azoro’s insistence given the fact that he couldn’t see them well enough to read them except through Paul’s eyes.

10

June 13, 154960

Meuneushi System (Hesphatus Region)

Meuno

Rajamal stood onboard a Zen’zat Domjo-class warship along with the ragtag rebel fleet made up mostly of ships of similar size. The largest they had were a pair of Na’shor captured from the Per’tal in the same battle, and neither had been fully repaired. All were spaceworthy, but many were missing weapons, hangars, sensors, and other items where the hull had been patched over cleanly without replacing them.

Rajamal and the rebel Zen’zat didn’t have the infrastructure necessary to repair most of them, for the Star Force Zen’zat worlds no longer assisted them freely since the Deathmark had been officially withdrawn. They could still use their services if they paid for them, and they often did when possible, but Star Force had bigger enemies to worry about…and they had gotten the official Deathmark removed, which was no small feat. But they couldn’t be everywhere and do everything, and the rebel Zen’zat had been told if they wanted to continue their war they would have to do it on their own terms.

That suited Rajamal fine, but it also meant he couldn’t dock the damaged warships they salvaged from battle into the nearest Star Force repair yard to get them fixed up and put back into service on his side. Though, even if Star Force allowed it, they had so many of their own ships waiting in line with priority that he doubted he could get his worked on soon enough to matter…though some were so badly damaged he had to just sit them in a hidden location and use them for spare parts. Those he would have let sit in line for as long as necessary, but Star Force’s generosity had evaporated along with the official Deathmark.

He had discussed that with a Human High Admiral by the name of Chadon at the time, and Chadon had informed him that Star Force was aware that unofficial bad behavior was rampant in the areas they didn’t monitor well, and for that reason Star Force wasn’t going to intervene and stop the Zen’zat in their war against the Zak’der’on. As long as their common enemy pursued their agenda in the shadows the rebel Zen’zat could as well. But if the day came when the threat ended, Star Force would be of another mind about the matter.

Rajamal wondered what they would think of this mission as he rode in one of 2,319 warships just above Meuno’s atmosphere as they bombarded the planet from orbit now that the defense shields were down.

They probably wouldn’t like it, but there was no way Rajamal could organize an effective planetary assault into the oceans. The J’gar were too dominant in the aquatics realm, and it would be suicide for the Zen’zat to go down there and fight them hand to hand. Even with aquatic ships that he did not have many of it would be a slaughter, for this world was one of 5 that the J’gar had moved their capitol infrastructure to after their previous capitol was consumed by the Hadarak surge.

Itaru had survived because it was on the good side of the Grand Border, but the J’gar and 43 other V’kit’no’sat races had their capitols and/or homeworlds wiped clean by the Hadarak. Nothing remained on them but rubble and enemy infestation, and the J’gar had chosen the redundant approach afterward rather than simply moving all their people to another system on the safe side of the Grand Border and rebuilding it as close to what it had been before.

Meuno was not even close to the J’gar’s former glory, and was a testament to how far they’d fallen. It had been strong enough to defend against just about any attack the galaxy could throw at it aside from the major players…but the rebel Zen’zat were using the V’kit’no’sat’s own technology against them, and they hadn’t built up enough defenses to stop them from coming in and clandestinely targeting one of the planet’s shield generator complexes.

They didn’t overlap, so when the one went down the planet had a hole in its spherical protection, and through that hole the rebel fleet had moved in and destroyed the rest along with the pittance of a defense fleet the J’gar had here…for they didn’t think anyone would dare attack them other than the Zak’de’ron, and if they did there was no stopping their initial attack. So why build up a lot of unnecessary resources when you could better use them to intimidate and coerce your neighbors into servitude?

Rajamal and the other rebel cells had gathered a significant amount of intel on the J’gar and Oso’lon, but not from the inside. They had no more Zen’zat serving them, but they did trade with a number of other races. Races that could be surveilled and tracked, and from those interactions and the scout ships they had out snooping around their systems and following some of their own ships, Rajamal knew the weakened state the J’gar were in…but he hadn’t realized just how much until he’d come here 3 weeks ago and found it to be far less defended than he anticipated.

Their defense fleet didn’t even engage, retreating back underneath the intact shields and trying to evacuate certain individuals from the planet. Some got away, but most were forced back to the planet while others were intercepted and disabled. Some were destroyed entirely, though Rajamal did not like wasting useful ships.

But as he had learned two days ago, the evacuations of the ‘key’ personnel were a ruse designed to make the rebels think the planet didn’t hold much remaining value…when it did. Many of his Zen’zat served the J’gar at some point during their lives, and they knew their operating codes and procedures enough to poke around their comms and captured databanks until they found multiple references to the Didact being on planet.

After that Rajamal had ordered an extensive search, though the lair wasn’t that hard to find when you had access to their own planetary systems. There was a no-go zone around it labeled clearly, and Rajamal assumed the Didact was still there, for no evac ships had landed in that area of the planet-wide ocean.

And it was that area they were now bombarding, with most of their weaponsfire being eaten up by the water itself, but with small amounts getting down 2 miles deep and hitting the defense shields covering the Didact’s lair. It was an inefficient attack, but Rajamal did not have the specialized aquatic assault weapons that he had previously had when in service to the V’kit’no’sat. He had a lot less power than he once had, technological and manpower, but he was in command of his cell of rebels and took orders from no one…and often gave orders to the others who usually followed his lead.

They had all answered the call when he had given it for this attack, and if the Didact was down there he expected heavy reinforcements from the J’gar to begin arriving from far flung locations as they hurried back to get here. He hoped they could kill him before that.

But where weaponsfire was lacking, ingenuity could still prevail. Right now Rajamal watched as some of that ingenuity dragged asteroids from elsewhere in the system towards the planet with a few rebel ships expertly guiding their courses and speed so they would land on the planet in the precise spot they wanted. The first of those was hitting the atmosphere now and streaking down between the rebel fleet, which was positioned so accurately that the rock flew by harmlessly, despite the fact that it was some 29 miles wide and moving at decent, but not overblown speed.

But enough speed to smash into the atmosphere and illicit a short lived fireball as its outer shell cracked and pieces shot out in multiple directions…but the central mass held up all the way to the ocean and impacted 18 miles away from the Didact’s complex.

Rajamal inwardly cringed at the wanton destruction of all those in the water, but he reminded himself that the J’gar were ruthless and he couldn’t miss this opportunity for the sake of the denizens, whether they be J’gar or other races. He knew this world contained two others that the J’gar had coopted or enslaved, and right now many of them just died in the impact, though it wouldn’t be the last.

A tidal wave ensued along with the planetary crust cracking and what water remained in the depression hit the now exposed magma and exploded outward, creating geysers as the Didact’s lair had most of the water covering it dispelled as its smooth shields held up to the mass of water rushing over.

The orbital fire from the fleet never stopped, and now with the majority of the water shield gone the rebel’s firepower was getting through much better, and soon the shields…under the combined stress of the weapons and the previous tidal wave…collapsed and the thick armor beneath began to take hits, though it wouldn’t budge much as the water cooled the heated material immediately and kept it from hitting inferno levels.

The rebel fleet kept poking at it as some of the water back flowed into the depression that now had a giant mountain sticking out of the ocean and creating an instant island on the otherwise complete water world…but it wouldn’t be the last. And a little under an hour later the next asteroid hit, this one smaller at 13 miles wide, and it came down near the Didact’s lair and hit some 34 miles away.

Four more followed, ringing the lair and making a mess out of the planetary crust. Sensors could barely see the target, but as expected it didn’t break up from the indirect stresses, and it wasn’t until the orbital bombardment finally poked through the armored dome that Rajamal ordered it to cease.

Then the fleet moved down through the roiling, steam-filled atmosphere as a group, setting down into the water between new mountains and using their shields to hold back the diminished ocean while simultaneously pumping the rest out slowly, though there wasn’t much left at this point.

Cracks of lava were visible already where the crust had pushed up above water level, and the puddles that were left around the now elevated lair were drained by the rebel fleet as they kept back what part of the ocean was trying to return on the eventual reversal of the tidal waves.

Then a few ships, including Rajamal’s Domjo, flew over top the Lair and poked more holes in it, seeing water coming out of it as the interior was drained partially. Only then did the elder Zen’zat leave his ship and go down to the surface inside mechanized assault craft that further cut into the holes in the armor. They blasted into the inner structure, draining out water then hacking and cutting as far as they could get before the support beams became too big and slowed them down too much. At that point Rajamal and the others went in on foot and continued the work with explosives, detonating one water-filled section after another and killing whatever J’gar remained living in personal armor the hard way.

But without their ability to swim they were easy targets, and with each corpse they had a team check the genetic code to identify who they were. Rajamal wanted a kill record, otherwise he would have dropped the asteroids directly onto the lair.

But if he had done that, they would never know for sure if the Didact was here or not.

More ships send assault teams to other portions of the perimeter as the planet around them complained grotesquely. Explosions continued even after the fleet silenced their guns. The crust still moved and breached at spots, throwing up a mix of fire and stream from spontaneous volcanoes…most of which were beyond the ring of ships that were holding the water back as it crept higher and higher, for the tidal waves would not stay pressed outward forever.

The lair itself was not obnoxiously huge, and the ground teams were making quick progress. They’d be done before the water rose high enough to jeopardize the holding shields, and without water inside the lair the fearsome J’gar were no match for the seasoned Zen’zat who didn’t care to make a fair fight out of it and killed them often out of sight with self-guiding missiles and other non-traditional weapons that normally would have been stifled due to the water environment…so the lair didn’t have defenses against them.

Chamber by chamber they went until one random J’gar, killed in armor, matched the Didact’s genetic code.

That wasn’t enough by itself, for genetic codes were publically known because it was too easy to get a whiff off someone’s body to sample it. They became your easy ID in V’kit’no’sat society, but ID’s could be faked as well.

That’s when Rajamal sent for Vikov. He was one of the rebels who had served the J’gar…and one that had personally met the Didact on two occasions. He had him examine the damaged body, from which they removed the armor. All J’gar looked alike…but that was true for just about every race in the galaxy until you got to know them better. In the case of the J’gar there were certain patterns to their bioluminescence that were fairly unique, along with crest height and other factors that could be changed if there was a reason, but the Didact would have no reason to do so as he kept a clandestine life safe from potential threats, as did almost all of the V’kit’no’sat leadership.

But the Zen’zat never had. Like the Archons, their strongest and wisest and eldest went first into the toughest of battles…or maybe not first, but second after unknown defenses were probed by those of less value. They knew the risks, as did all Zen’zat, and back when Rajamal was new he would have gladly taken that risk to shield a more valuable Zen’zat from a surprise attack.

That was why Rajamal had kept Vikov back, because he was the only person in the rebel fleet that could personally identify the Didact.

Vikov knelt next to the head of the J’gar…which had a large hole in it…and he pressed his exposed hand against the blue/purple flesh.

“I did not want this,” he said flatly. “But they forced it upon us.”

“In order to defend ourselves we had to break our oaths,” Rajamal agreed, feeling a familiar tightness in his chest…but one he had grown accustomed to long ago. Still, being here in the Didact’s potential presence, it ached a bit more none the less.

“What are we without our oaths?” Vikov demanded. “What is our purpose once vengeance is satisfied?”

“Is it satisfied?”

“This is him. We’ve killed him,” Vikov said regretfully. “How did it come to this, Rajamal? How?”

“He was our enemy, Vikov.”

“I served him. You did not.”

“I turned on those I served long ago when duty demanded it.”

“It makes me sick to see this. We’ve become a pack of predators and little more. What happens if we run out of prey? Who are we then?”

“I welcome that day.”

“I fear it. For we have nothing left but vengeance.”

“You can always serve Star Force with the others.”

“The trust is broken. And once broken, it cannot be mended.”

“They are not the V’kit’no’sat.”

“And I am still an oathbreaker. That will not change.”

“What would you have had us do?”

“Nothing different,” Vikov admitted. “We were driven to this by the failure of the V’kit’no’sat…but we are still being forced to break oaths. They were never relinquished.”

“A Deathmark doesn’t relinquish them?”

“Why do I still feel the bond then? Why do I still look at them with envy and awe despite what they have done?”

“You see what they were promised to be. Not what they actually are.”

“That ignorance was far more fulfilling than this truth.”

“But it is truth.”

“And our very purpose for existing was based on the ignorance. What are we now?”

“Warriors. With an unfulfilled mission.”

“To kill them all, Rajamal?”

“If that’s what it takes. But the objective is to defeat them once and for all. We cannot allow this to happen again.”

“This?”

“False leadership and betrayal.”

“We are what they made us. Zen’zat are meant to serve honorably. We are not meant to chart our own course without a mission. And it cannot be a self-determined mission.”

“You wish you could go back to the way things were before the collapse of the empire?”

“If only it were possible…”

“I think this is where we part ways, my brother. Your will is broken.”

“I think you are right. May I dispose of his body properly?”

“I have no wish to make a trophy of it. You’ve given me confirmation, and he cannot be revived with that wound. Take him and do what you wish. The rest of us will stay here and do as much damage to the planet as we can before their reinforcements arrive. I suggest you leave before the jumppoints are blockaded.”

“You intend to fight it out?”

“No. But I intend to fight on the run in a direction chosen in the moment. You will be caught and killed if you don’t come with us or leave now.”

“Then my ship will leave as soon as we have his body onboard.”

“Make it quick. The ocean will reclaim this place within two hours. Perhaps three.”

“I will be gone within one,” Vikov promised, finally standing and turning to face Rajamal, but the elder Zen’zat was already moving on ahead to catch up with the assault teams, for there were more J’gar in the lair that were not yet dead, and they might be valuable targets that Rajamal was not going to let slip through his fingers in the oversight.

Vikov called down his Ti’mat-class warship and a team of Zen’zat with anti-grav pallets came and got the Didact’s body and hauled it outside until they got in the clear and were able to use a grav lift to bring it up into the underside of the ship hovering so low it was below the original ocean level that was nearly up to half what it was before judging by the watermarks on the inside of the shield walls when the steam in the air passed by enough to see.

Everything was hot in here. Hot and burnt and wet, with splatters of rain mixed with dry air so tart it would suck the mist off your armor.

Vikov knew the Zen’zat had caused this, and the sight and feel of it only deepened the inherent betrayal…but Rajamal was right. The J’gar had forced this on them. And now they had nothing left but memories of duty.

And Vikov was going to attend to this last one before disappearing into the stars and an uncertain future.

www.aerkijyr.com

Whitmore Day

1

September 9, 154960

Leo Tra Nevir System (Grand Border)

Kicho Brettinga

“Your move.”

Jarrod Jor’s face contorted as he thought, staring at the cluster of small holograms floating over the dirt of the forest floor. He was one move away from elimination from his unit’s pickup game of Hatrical, despite his best efforts to the contrary. He wasn’t very good at the game…at least not as good as the other four in his star, and he always got politely reminded that Humans just weren’t skilled at the game.

Jarrod used his handheld pointer and maneuvered one of his three remaining pieces into a dead zone, thinking it was a safe play, then ended his turn with an audible ‘blerp’ from his pointer.

“Always on the defense,” Hi’ro’ju said as his glowing Protovic eyes competed with the holograms in the dim light for dominance as a light breeze rustled the thin leaves on the evergreen trees that surrounded them. “I’ll let you live for that,” he said, using his own pointer and launching an attack on the battleboard against Kiimo.

“Really?” the Calavari asked, seeing two of his primary units deleted from inventory.

“Unwise,” the H’kar stated, whose turn was next…and used a portal to get the bulk of his forces behind Hi’ro’ju’s now broken perimeter. Zikova engaged every one of them in range, and nearly 2/3rds of all forces involved disappeared, with most of those remaining being Kiimo’s.

“Was it?” he asked…then his eyes narrowed as the final member of their unit began his turn. The tiny Irondel used a pointer much smaller than the others, but it worked the just the same and the previously firm border between him and the Protovic was now not so firm.

“Are you trying to get yourselves annihilated?” Hi’ro’ju asked as Yi’tri launched his own assault, which was not very effective, but against the Protovic’s diminished forces the result was about an even split.

Kiimo nudged Jarrod with one of his four arms, then gave him a nod.

The Human took his turn, sending two of his units not into combat, but into an empty node that Hi’ro’ju had evacuated when he moved against Kiimo. When Jarrod took possession, the randomizer spit out a new attribute for that hex on the map…with it becoming a super fortress that would protect his two units and fight aggressors until destroyed.

“Why are you helping him?”

“Because he needs it,” Yi’tri responded first.

“And we don’t like you,” Kiimo added.

“You mean you don’t like me winning,” the Protovic said, making his move into a better defensive alignment with his remaining units, knowing it would take many more turns to regenerate his strength.

“Does that mean we all just teamed up against Hitop?” Jarrod asked.

“Looks to be so,” Zikova declared as he shifted around in his awkward standing position that had his central torso touching the ground and his crab-like legs elevated near to his head to get him that low as the others were all sitting around the holoprojector…that suddenly went dim as a priority override displayed a message box above it.

“Who’s that for?” Jarrod asked as Yi’tri toggled the interface.

“Everyone,” he said, with the addresses being tagged as every single person within the Star Force empire.

“What the hell?” Jarrod asked. “I’ve never seen a message intended for everyone.”

“Perhaps this is it,” the Protovic suggested as he triggered the packet to open, with the holoprojector increasing in size to full as an image of Director Davis appeared, but did not activate, meaning it wasn’t an incoming stream from the planet, but a data packet meant to be viewed individually as time allowed.

Another click of the pointer and the recording began.

“We have lived in the shadow of the destruction of the Hadarak for some time now, and their determination to destroy us has not relented. As time progresses, their attacks become more fierce, though to date we have been able to defend the Grand Border each and every time. No penetrations have been successful, the Rim is still secure, but our time of defense is now over. As of now, we are beginning our counterattack against the Hadarak with the intent to eventually purge this galaxy of their presence.”

“Finally,” the Calavari muttered.

“This will not occur quickly, or easily, but the time is now and we are launching our offensive along the Grand Border at times and places of our choosing. This is essential, because until we drive the Hadarak from this galaxy we are in great peril. The Grand Border has sustained us thus far, but it necessitates that we are spread thin to guard it all. If we can drive the Hadarak back to the Deep Core, we can concentrate our defense there against their intergalactic reinforcements. This is our eventual aim, but not immediate goal. We have a sea of enemies to fight through to get there, and I am telling you that this fight begins now.”

“All Kingdoms and Regions will be supporting the invasion with logistical assistance and warfleets. This will continue and expand upon local shortages and wait times for services. Consider it a small price to pay in exchange for our military keeping the Hadarak off your doorstep. I do not like the measures, but we are forced to work with what we have available. I would like to continue building and storing up resources, but the Hadarak are doing the same and the real question is when will we be ready. The answer to that is now. So we are going now and forcing this fight because it needs to be done. The status quo is not good enough. It will either be us or the Hadarak controlling this galaxy. There will be no coexistence. They have made that abundantly clear. So the only way to safeguard our future is by diving into the danger headfirst now.”

“Most of what happens will be unknown to you, but we will send back updates and visuals when we can. Know that our warriors are carrying out the fight even if you cannot monitor them, and that this fight is going to be the hardest and longest in Star Force history. But we intend to win, and that victory begins now with the first battles. The Knight races will go first, and the rest of us will follow as needed. It is for a time such as this that the structure of Star Force was designed for. Self-sufficient Factions, systems, and planets are not a luxury, but a necessity. Our worlds will have to fend for themselves for the most part, while the bulk of exports will go to the war effort.”

“This is what we’ve built for, and now is the time to test our merit again. It is not our first war, but it is by far the largest and grandest this galaxy has seen in a very long time. When the Hadarak came here, however long ago that was, they defeated the strong and allowed the weak to live on in the Rim while they dominated the Core. Every time strength rose against them, they crushed it…as they are attempting to do to us now.”

“We will not be crushed. As of now orders are going out around the entire Grand Border, with forces from all our Factions being summoned to the fight along with many allies who want to do their part. Together, we will be launching the largest naval assault in recorded history…though not in numbers. The Hadarak numbers dwarf our own, but their ships are weak in comparison to ours. Our strength is quality, theirs is numerical advantage, but we also have a numerical advantage. We are devoting more ships to this fight than any other race, empire, or alliance has attempted against the Hadarak in this galaxy. An armada so large it can’t keep track of itself. Battles fought in one area of the galaxy will be unknown for months, if not years, from the other parts.”

“But we’re good at fighting like that. The Hadarak are not, and we’re about to exploit that weakness. We train to fight as individuals, and individuals do not need constant direction. You point them where they need to go and they figure out the rest. We excel in this, and despite the massive ship counts we are sending, each battle will be fought by the individual. None sacrificed. None expended. We will not trade lives with the Hadarak. We will not succumb to the darkside in order to survive. We will live on, with honor, and show the galaxy and all those watching from beyond the true power of the lightside.”

“As of today, I am declaring this galaxy…in its entirety…to be the property of Star Force. Every system, every planet, every floating rock and grain of dust. We are assuming dominion over all of it, not to conquer and terrorize, but to uplift and protect. We’ve been doing so for many pieces of it, but not all. We haven’t grown far enough for that, and with the Hadarak beating on our doorstep we’ve been rightly distracted. But no longer. We are on the warpath, and any that employ the tactics of the darkside will become our targets, in the Core or the Rim.”

“To our neighbors who have coexisted with us peaceably, you have nothing to fear as long as you reject the darkside. But to those who have exploited the shadows where we cannot see, this is also a call to war against you, for while the bulk of our forces are going after the Hadarak, a smaller force is going after the blank spots on the map in the Rim. As we claim possession of this galaxy, patrolling it also becomes our responsibility. And we are not going to wait until we are done with the Hadarak to deal with the rest of the Rim that is behaving badly. We will not tolerate a single murder under the guise of ‘sovereignty’ that many of you bastards claim. If we are going to clean this galaxy of the Hadarak filth, then we’re damn sure not going to allow any other versions to remain as well.”

“As will the fight with the Hadarak, this second war will take time and draw on more resources, but when finished we will have a united galaxy under our sole protection. Allies are always welcome, but we will not depend upon them. The mantle of responsibility holds that we must take the burdens upon ourselves, and that is what we intend to do. And when we defeat the Hadarak, make no mistake, we are not just taking back our galaxy from these bastards, we are also sending a message to the other galaxies full of them. To the other galaxies with the Neofan, Veloqueen, Denogi, and countless other powers out there.”

“This galaxy is ours, and the lightside will rule here. It will protect the denizens against the annihilation of the Hadarak and any other forms of darkside tyranny. We are fighting for our right to live, to exist. Today is the day the civilized galaxy declares in one voice, we will not go quietly into the night, we will not vanish without a fight. We’re going to live on. We’re going to survive. Today is the day we declare our independence and pick the biggest fight conceivable. There is no going back now. No hiding and hoping to live through this. No running to another galaxy. This is our home. This is our past. This is our future.”

“This is our Independence Day, July 4, 154960, and will be hence forth marked as Whitmore Day…the day the war of liberation began, and the day we step forth and take the mantle of responsibility for this galaxy. Good luck to those fighting, and may the Force be with us all.”

The hologram winked out, replaced by a blinking marker indicating a code prompt was needed to continue.

“There it is,” the Protovic said evenly as he stared at the air where the Director’s image had just been.

“I don’t have my armor,” the Calavari said. “We need to sign in.”

“I have mine,” Jarrod said, pulling up the sleeve on his wrist to reveal the small gauntlet he wore. It wasn’t a commando suit, but more of a survival armor if he ever needed to bail out of his mech. A little mental interlinking prompted it, then the Human walked up and waved the gauntlet through the holo prompt so it could positively identify him in order to release whatever sealed information was inside.

The tiny blinking marker spilled out so many holograms that the entire campsite in the forest was flooded with them, and in the center of all of it was a massive galaxy hologram detailing all the logistical endpoints on the Grand Border for the upcoming invasion…and there were so many they all bled together into one constant line ringing the Core with foreboding.

This wasn’t going to be several surgical strikes headed for the galactic tethers. This was a full on front against the entire Hadarak territory.

The Irondel pulled up one side hologram that contained their unit’s orders and opened it, spilling out more information…and a deadline. This message had been updated when it passed through the system computers. They were being recalled from their extended training mission and set to board a troop ship in a leisurely 9 nine days when it arrived. Then after that they were headed to a rendezvous with Clan Kai’sa to assist them in the cleansing of a not so nearby border system categorized as Red 2991. It was three jumps off the Grand Border itself, but it wasn’t until Yi’tri opened up the intel on that location that he saw why it was so important.

“38 planets and 91 moons, all occupied with Hadarak,” the H’kar noted.

“And it looks like the fleet will just clean out orbit,” Jarrod said, reading the lengthy brief. “Kai’sa will be responsible for claiming each planetoid, and the Pterodactyls are going in as added firepower.”

“They’re not very good in naval combat on their own,” the Irondel said. “Better as ground assault. And it gives us a chance to fight with them rather than being held in reserve.”

“I don’t think any of the Knight races are being held in reserve,” the Calavari Esquire said, towering over all the others in his mech star. “We’re going to be deployed wherever there is fighting. This is not just going to be a naval war,” he said, smacking his top two fists together in a satisfied gesture. “Nevar wasn’t lying.”

“You thought he was?” Jarrod asked, referring to the Pterodactyl that commanded their ‘galaxy’ of mechs, though he wasn’t a mechwarrior himself given his avian biology. Rather he organized and assisted from the sky as he commanded the Esquires on the ground.

“I thought he might be exaggerating. But an invasion such as this?” Kiimo said, gesturing with his lower right arm. “This is what we were trained for, not garrison duty on Border worlds.”

“Agreed,” the Protovic said, studying all the holograms closely. “And we have a rendezvous point to get to. They’re not sending dropships to get us out here.”

“All the training units are assembling in the highlands,” Jarrod said, eyeing the distance. “That means we’ve got 19 hours to get there, and 15 hours of travel time. Anyone sleepy?”

The H’kar stood up, cracking his joints loudly, though that was normal for his carapace. “Let’s go.”

The holoprotector shut down and flew off the ground into one of the Calavari’s hands with a telepathic jerk, then the packed dirt of the campsite they’d been using the past 3 days was abandoned as tents collapsed and were packed up as the five Pterodactyl Esquires climbed into their mechs parked in a small clearing nearby. Three were biped, the other two quadruped, and all powered up as soon as their mechwarriors were inside along with their camping cargo. The 20-40 meter high machines trudged off with very light steps due to their anti-grav enhancement, making only soft imprints in the ground as they avoided the trees and followed the rivulet of the clearing out to a much larger grass plain that they began running across in a line, with the H’kar Nlin-class mech leading the way.

Jarrod followed fourth in line in his Neo, with the running being pathetically easy aside from monitoring his footfalls so he didn’t step on any indigenous wildlife that froze at their approach rather than running away…for the mechs were still quite noisy even with the anti-grav-assisted steps.

But Jarrod wasn’t bored. He pulled up a copy of the message packet and reviewed it as they ran enroute to their distant rendezvous point, his mind ablaze with anticipation, worry, and an eagerness to get into the fight along with the first wave rather than come in as backup. It looked like that was going to be the case, but other than the orders for his unit there wasn’t much detail about everyone else.

That was to be expected, and he’d get further information once he returned to base and linked up with Kai’sa. But still, this was really happening, and the mechs were being deployed straight off, not held in reserve as cleanup crew. That’s what they all wanted, and it looked like the fleet was going to be spared the lengthy task of planetary bombardment so they could move on to more systems with maximum speed.

That was Jarrod’s thinking, and it put a lot of burden on the groundpounders to finish the job that the warships easily could do…aside from subterranean issues. But the Human Esquire wouldn’t have it any other way. He wanted to pull his weight as much as any of the rest of them, and if they could relieve the fleet by taking work off their hands, so much the better. They needed to focus on the reinforcements coming across the space lanes anyway. That was their fight.

The Hadarak on the ground were his, and Red 2991 sure had a whole lot of them.

2

November 8, 154960

Leo Tra Nevir System (Grand Border)

Low Stellar Orbit

Captain Sheev’nora of the Kvash battlecruiser Gamma 39987 stood on the bridge as his ship was entering the system in a long convoy line having originated from deeper in the Rim. They’d left within 3 days of hearing Director Davis’s call to war and had been traveling through Star Force territory all this time, collecting more ships as they went, but nothing he had seen previously in his 45,923 year career prepared him for what he saw when he finally got to the Grand Border.

There was no fighting here. Rather there was staging going on, and as his ship’s sensors caught up as the Gamma 39987 fell into line with the other Kvash warships that were redirecting out to a parking orbit, Sheev’nora couldn’t believe the number of ship icons already present, many of which were in the process of leaving the system, but most were sitting in tight formations away from the major jumplines waiting for sufficient ships to arrive to begin their incursions into Hadarak territory.

Sheev’nora didn’t know what they were waiting for. Already there were more than 400,000 warships present, plus more than twice that in support ships. And most of the warships were at least 15 miles long, if not larger. His battlecruiser was 30 miles long and shaped like Thor’s hammer, with very few hangar bays and equipped for melee combat primarily. Other Kvash vessels were similarly equipped, along with the standard drone-carrying warships.

The Kvash fleet was the most diverse in Star Force, for they had specialty ships for a wide range of situations. Too many, some had argued, but given their lack of personal movement speed necessary for Commando work, the Kvash had focused their development on their Naval division long ago under trailblazer Paul-024’s personal direction, and the results had been more than impressive. They’d had to earn it, though, over a long and tedious ordeal to hone their skills and battle acumen, for Paul hadn’t given them the playbook of others to copy. They had to develop their own with him nudging them one way or another, forcing them to adapt and learn…and the results had eventually led to their elevation to a Knight race.

That was a major feat to accomplish, but it came with far more responsibility than fanfare. The Kvash were at a physical disadvantage to the V’kit’no’sat races who had become the original Knight races, save for the Ari’tat. They too were not well suited to Commando work, though at least they had mobility. The Kvash didn’t. But as Paul was fond of pointing out, Naval beat everything, so he’d focused their attention on that primary avenue and fleshed out their other capabilities around it.

Most Kvash warships smaller than 8 miles long were capable of going underwater and doubling as aquatic ships. Larger than that and you’d be hard pressed to find an ocean large enough to hold one. And ships smaller than 20 miles long were not designated as frontline ships, but rather suited for patrol and skirmisher work. Those the Kvash had many of, but not in this convoy. Against the Hadarak they would not hold up well, so the smaller vessels were being retasked to patrol Rim territory that the other Knight races were pulling their forces out of to send here, to the front, along with the Kvash heavy hitters.

This fight was going to be one of attrition, and the ships involved had to be massive enough to take damage and keep fighting. That was the only way they would win, which the V’kit’no’sat had discovered long ago, and bringing in smaller vessels would allow the Hadarak to pick them off over time, giving the Hadarak the advantage because they could grow more faster than Star Force could build them. The Kvash had known this since before the surge began. The only way they would win was if their ships didn’t go down against the swarm and were able to persist, undergo repairs, and get back into the fight.

Sheev’nora’s battlecruiser fit that description, with armor so thick the weapon batteries had to have snorkels to get up to the surface to fire out. The ship also had a single Essence weapon, or in this case a defensive one in the form of a shield to protect them from a one-shot from a Lurker if they encountered one. There weren’t many left out there that Star Force could find, for they’d already killed more than 120,000 of them over the years. But every now and then one would pop up and cause havoc if the ships involved didn’t have some basic defenses against a disintegration attack.

All the Kvash heavy hitters did, though they didn’t have enough reserves to withstand more than 3 hits. Essence was the most valuable commodity within the galaxy, and finding enough to supply the entire Kvash fleet, let alone others, was mindboggling. Sheev’nora still didn’t know how Star Force was doing it, and all the better to keep their production facilities secret. He knew the Uriti were involved, but the Preserves were now empty and the massive war beasts were nowhere to be found. The Captain assumed they were somewhere safe, but even with all of their known numbers he didn’t understand how Star Force was producing so much Essence.

His ship had filled up enroute, docking with a tanker to top off their own Magicite well, but where it had come from he did not know and did not ask. But every ship in the Kvash fleet was full and ready to survive a Lurker backdoor attack if it happened, though one attacking a convoy such as this would be suicide. The Kvash battlegroup he was assigned to had 23,933 ships in it, and it was going to take hours more for the rest of them to arrive here.

But there were already Tyranosaurs, Triceratops, and Pterodactyl fleets here in addition to the V’kit’no’sat ones guarding the system. Their numbers dwarfed the Kvash, and understandingly so. Kvash did not reproduce fast, nor had they gotten a head start like so many other races in Star Force had. The Kvash had to rebuild their entire civilization from a few rescued prisoners taken from the Li’vorkrachnika, and everything since then had been an uphill battle, but one they made slow and consistent progress at, which was their way.

They were all united in the effort, with only a few individuals choosing to follow another path. That was why they were suitable to become a Knight race, whereas others groomed their protectors from volunteers. Even the Humans who had founded Star Force could not claim such unity, and the Kvash took great pride in that fact. They were bound as one, and committed to the duty of defending the empire beyond just their own race. Each person chose that duty, but their civilization was structured on the fact that they would, and that gave them many advantages.

Their Commando weakness had been countered with mobile forts that would deposit a massive amount of communications gear onto a planet, and through that they would remotely control infantry machines and mechs. It wasn’t as good as having living people on the surface, for communications could be interfered with, but when you had control of orbit you could make such things work. And Kvash battle strategy held that you never initiated ground combat unless you had warships in the sky above.

Dominate space first, diminish surface defenses second, then insert ground units to finish the task. They weren’t the best Knight race at such things, but then again the Brontosaurus couldn’t go into underground caverns either given their size, so they relied on Esquires to assist them.

The Kvash used no Esquires, which was an oddity in the Knight races, but it was how they chose to fight. Where they couldn’t go themselves they would send drones, and in space Esquires were not needed save for boarding vessels…which could also be accomplished with drones.

The Kvash weren’t the most impressive Knight race, and they knew it, but compared to all the major Factions in Star Force, they were on the varsity team while the Bsidd, Protovic, Calavari, Humans, Kiritas, Kiritak, and even the Varkemma were less capable on the whole. They might outnumber the Kvash, but they were not their equal in quality when it came to Naval combat or racial unity. Nor did they have Paul-024 continually tweaking their fleets with upgrades.

Only the Clans outranked the Knight races, but the Clans were in even smaller number than the Kvash. They were the elite of the elite, and that wasn’t going to be good enough to win this war. There were too many Hadarak to kill, and for that task you needed armies, not highly skilled assassins.

That’s what the Knight races were. Armies devoted to protecting the empire by going out and engaging the enemy on their turf, but first armies had to assemble, and in this system they were doing just that…along with many, many other systems around the entire perimeter of the Grand Border.

Sheev’nora took a small step forward with his short, stubby, rock-like body making a small thud on the smooth floor when he did so. There were no chairs on the bridge, for the Kvash didn’t use them. When they rested they bent lower on their legs and became small columns…which was an advantage they had over the more mobile races who had to periodically rest their legs, while the Kvash never did.

But right now Sheev’nora was looking out at the holograms of the nearby area, and his step forward was an involuntary one made out of sheer awe. The size of the Kvash fleet was breathtaking, but the clusters of other Knight races’ ships far beyond but still visible to the eye without enhancement was moving. He’d never seen so much power assembled in one place, and more was coming in from three different jumplines while one jumpline was seeing Tyranosaur ships leaving.

“We assemble,” his navigator said, seeing the same sight, though in more detail given his instrument board. “And based on the spacing of the exiting ships, we’re traveling in dense formation.”

Sheev’nora mentally altered a side hologram to take a closer look, confirming that the exiting Tyranosaur ships were jumping in alarmingly close formation. Without precise timing they’d run into one another and destroy each other, but precise timing what was Naval fleets operated on, and every ship knew their own limits.

“We are going into hostile territory, Numo. We cannot allow ourselves to be picked apart in transit, and the faster we obtain naval dominance the less damage we will take. A lengthy convoy is acceptable within our own territory, but we go to face a war unlike any that has been fought before, and we cannot do so casually.”

“Update,” the comm officer said, throwing a holographic copy of their new orders in front of the Captain. “We have our target.”

“Red 2991,” he said, seeing the route they were going to take to get there, indicating that those intermediary systems were expected to be pacified by the time the Kvash ships traveled through them. “With orbital defense growths.”

“And an estimated 7 million ships, not counting their minions.”

The Captain brought his two stubby hands up in front of his chest and pressed them together softly as he scanned the intelligence reports he was seeing for the first time.

“Clan Kai’sa will be following us in, as will the Pterodactyls, but the primary assault is to be Kvash alone,” he said with a mix of pride and foreboding. “We are the hammer that must crush them in orbit, then the others will take the planets.”

“That is why we weren’t sent ground assault ships,” another bridge crew member noted.

“Yes. Ours is to be a truly naval war, which is our strong suit. Best that each of us fight where we are strongest when we chose the battleground. Red 2991 is ours. It is our first true test, for we will be going in heavily outnumbered. And I expect that to be the case in every assault thereafter. The easy days of training are over.”

“They were never easy,” his second in command corrected.

“And rightly so, to prepare us for this,” Sheev’nora said as his ship drifted along with the convoy towards their parking slot. He sifted through the updated orders and saw an expected departure date, which was contingent on the arrival time of all other fleets.

“28 days,” he announced. “Then we move into the field. Enjoy the view until then, and prepare yourselves for a long, arduous war of attrition. Our wills must endure as well as our ships. Fatigue is not an option, nor is despair. What we face will appear impossible, but we’ve been taught how to fight the impossible. Accept the challenge before us and focus your attention on your small part in it. You cannot control the rest, so do not waste thought or emotion on it.”

“Where do you suppose Paul is going?” the navigator asked.

“Perhaps with Clan Saber, or maybe into the field in his Borg vessel alone. I do not know, but wherever he is, let him find pride in our combat scores afterward. He trained us well. Now it’s our responsibility to use that training.”

“Still, I’d like to see what he and the other trailblazers have in store for the Hadarak. As big as a target ours is, there have got to be bigger ones in their sights.”

“No doubt. To each his own, and while I will be interested in studying their battle records afterward, we won’t be hearing from them for years once we leave the comm grid behind. So trust in their power and wisdom to see them through. Our near future is in our own hands, and the hands of our fleet.”

“Where do you think they’re going?” the navigator asked, bringing up the view of the departing Tyranosaur ships.

“Clearing our way or enroute to their own major system, I would suspect. We don’t need to know. That’s for the Admirals and above. They do the organizing so we don’t have to. It feels disconcerting not knowing, but it’s better that we don’t. We’re going to have enough to deal with as it is.”

“Entering the fog of war?”

“Indeed we are. This is our last touch of civilization. Prepare to enter the wilds of the galaxy, and to make our new home in it. We cannot just visit, we have to persist and learn to dominate it. Carnage and destruction await us in the fog. May our honor and training guide us through…”

Three weeks later…

Mak’to’ran was vexed. He’d organized resupply of Essence and other material before he’d left V’kit’no’sat territory, and had been leaving Maty occasionally to pick it up outside the system…for it was too dangerous to bring the relief shipments in on their own. But he never had enough for the job before him, and he had to pick and choose his targets.

His first had been one of the Hadarak ships spawning ground assault minions, and it had been a total kill…but the Hadarak had taken the pieces of it and stitched them back together, with it now operating at 12% capacity and continuing to flood the planet along with the others in an unending stream of attackers that the Elloquim were having to constantly destroy.

The dead were already piled up into mountains of corpses, or the vaporized ash of corpses that was raining down over a third of the planet. And the naval situation above the planet was far worse, with 5 of the Elloquim having been destroyed in the constant bombardment. Mak’to’ran could not save them, so his fleet was trying to limit the pressure on the planet as much as they could…all the while receiving updated information from Maty. The PanNari were holding to their promise to share what they learned, even as the facility was breached and the ground battle was constantly in motion inside.

Mak’to’ran had some of his troops down there, but getting more was problematic. The first insertion had cost him much, and the Hadarak were adamant on denying more assistance. Yet if Mak’to’ran wanted to use the necessary Essence, there was no place the Hadarak could deny him, yet right now destroying ships and stunting some of the reinforcement flow seemed to be the better use of his limited resources.

Another warning lit up on his holos, indicating a strike at one of his formations across the system. A lurker had jumped another set of ships, and been destroyed in the process, but three of his warships were torn apart and a minion swarm was headed their way to finish off whatever survivors remained.

The comm lag across the system meant he couldn’t intervene with orders, but his people knew what to do, and to their credit he saw drop pods emerging from the nearby warships immediately to evacuate the survivors as others moved ahead to engage the swarm early. They would not leave anyone behind if at all possible…nor would they stay to die with them. It was a delicate balance that Star Force had taught him well, and but these Lurker attacks on his small fleet groups were not stopping. Already they had suffered 28 of them, and with all the clutter in the system the Ghostbane sensors could not pick up the single Lurkers from far away. Everything was awash in energy that limited the range, and too often the Lurkers would Essence brake their way into a formation at high speed and disintegrate a target before they could raise their Essence shields if they were otherwise engaged.

The Lurkers were the most frustrating unit the Hadarak had, and there were more here than Star Force had seen in the entire galaxy in the previous decade.

If Mak’to’ran didn’t receive reinforcements this system would be lost. The PanNari were performing above all expectations with their limited Essence technology, and using conventional tech in ways Mak’to’ran hadn’t even fathomed. Their fiercesomeness was alarming, despite their being allies in this fight, but attrition was not on their side, and those on the planet had no means of escape. They were dug in permanently, with their only hope being a stemming of the enemy reinforcements arriving.

But they weren’t. Mak’to’ran hoped to see a jumpline suddenly stop receiving Hadarak ships, indicating a fight on the other end, but no such fortunate was manifesting itself. He’d chosen a fight larger than he could finish, and he was forced to deal with partial victories and mitigation. Though if he hadn’t come, the PanNari would have already lost the Maty and their Elloquim. The latter of which might end up being more valuable than the former in this war.

Mak’to’ran watched the updates coming in from the aftermath of the Lurker attack, then suddenly a Star Force signal came in from nowhere. It wasn’t a message, but a sound. No, a song. And one that Mak’to’ran vaguely remembered.

The computer identified it before the ID tag of the vessel transmitting it, because there was none. It was originating on an odd jumpline. A long jumpline, one so distant that few races in the galaxy had the engine capacity to travel it.

But it was one that the Hadarak were not using, nor patrolling. And the source of the signal had penetrated all the way to mid stellar orbit, not too far away from the planet that held Maty, yet still well beyond the blockade.

The ship’s computer immediately identified the song as one of the old school battle songs that the trailblazers were fond of using. This one was called ‘New Divide,’ and it was being blarred on a Star Force frequency from something, but Mak’to’ran couldn’t see an ID tag and it would take a long time for active sensors from his closest ships to get there and back again.

Fortunately he didn’t have to wait too long, for less than a minute later hundreds of ID signatures suddenly turned on as one, with the Clan Saber warships spreading out like a firework in different directions as one big ship in the middle remained on a course towards the star and the swarms of ships in low orbit.

It was a massive Borg vessel tagged as the Excalibur, Paul-024s flagship, but it wasn’t alone. Soon the incoming ships turned on their ID tags as well, with the trail leading all the way back out of the system, and along with Clan Saber ships came a second Borg vessel, the Megazord, then a third…and a fourth…and a fifth.

Interspaced between them were more Clan Saber ships, making it clear there was more to come behind from the other Clans, but the trailblazers, as typical, wanted to come in first…and in fashion.

Mak’to’ran shifted the comm signal with the song to play throughout his entire ship with a thought, then lifted his head back and roared so loud the command deck walls vibrated.

They had come. Not just reinforcements, but the trailblazers themselves and on a jumpline nobody would have expected. They didn’t have to fight their way into the system, but it appeared they were moving to engage multiple targets…with the primary being the major jumplines and the prime brake points in low stellar orbit.

So maybe this was just the first wave with the others coming in through the normal route…but it didn’t matter. The trailblazers were here, Star Force was here, and Mak’to’ran’s gamble had just been validated. As had the PanNari’s.

Star Force may have had so many races in it that Mak’to’ran couldn’t name them all, far more than the original V’kit’no’sat had, but their unity was far superior. Nobody was sacrificed. Nobody abandoned. They fought for one another, backed each other up, and above all else, trusted one another.

And unlike the cowardly Zak’de’ron, in Star Force, the strongest went in first.

Mak’to’ran ordered all his ships across the system into immediate combat mode, redeploying them towards the arriving ships and requesting instructions from the Excalibur as to how they wanted to fight this.

3

The Elloquim Nevantha was locked into the bedrock and pulling himself lower into it whenever possible. His exposed body was potmarked with massive holes that his internal drones were constantly repairing as he drew material out of the planetary crust, processed it, and produced replacement parts in a war of attrition against the damage the Hadarak were pouring down from orbit.

But he wasn’t static in his defense. His weaponry was his highest priority, and when it was damaged or destroyed it got replaced first and foremost. The dead minions from above continued to rain down on top of him, and he was using his grapple fields to maneuver the corpses to specific locations on his hull to give him a bit of cover against their weaponry where his shields were temporarily down.

Up and down they went in patches, repairs made, new damage taken, and on and on it went as his subsurface drilling and excavation teams produced tunnels that were sending drones and tendrils from his body out into the Hadarak burrowing teams attempting to create new access points to the Maty.

There wasn’t too much going on for him to process, and as he worked every angle with perfect calm he analyzed the enemy and his response to them, looking for alterations to make for greater efficiency as well as making predictions as to the future outcome.

All those predictions ended in his death and the loss of the Maty. Even with Star Force’s V’kit’no’sat arriving to reinforce…which had been instrumental to their ability to hold it from the inside…they were going to lose. The mathematics were determinate. The current mission was to retrieve as much information as possible and transmit it to the Elloquim beyond the planet so they could carry it with them back to the PanNari worlds where they would begin the long process of rebuilding, but doing so as a highly advanced civilization.

Nevantha would not live to be part of it. He could not escape the planet if he wished to now. The few primary tentacles he had left were reaching down into the magma layers and sweeping out the underside of the crust to chew away at it and break through further so he could sink in more. The heat he could manage far better than the weaponsfire from above, but it did take a toll on his mass…and it was that mass that had allowed him to survive thus far. He had lost some 27% of it already, with huge hollows inside him remaining after surface repairs were done…but he was filling those hollows with magma drawn from below.

When it cooled it became a form of armor that would have to be burned through by the enemy in order to get to his vital systems…including the small orb buried deep within his ship body that contained his central mechanical brain and Core. It had not been penetrated yet, but the Elloquim directly to his south had suffered such damage. As a result he was now dead, though many of his systems were still operating on last orders and carrying on the fight. Nevantha was currently burrowing to his corpse in an attempt to hack into it and use it better than non-living programming could.

The situation was grim, but the Maty was worth it. The secrets being uncovered in the basic structure of the facility were beyond valuable to his race…though perhaps not to Star Force. What they got out of this was not his concern, but for a biological race attempting to become fully mechanical, the legacy of one far superior to them who had achieved this was showing them in a matter of months things they had never considered before. Pathways to advancement in terms of physical components and software so complex and bizarre even Nevantha could not process it beyond a basic sense.

The mysteries of the Maty were beyond measure, and even as Nevantha slowly died he was exploring them with part of his processing power not needed for combat as he still had some hard lines into the facility that the Hadarak had not yet cut.

He would not live to use the revelations, but he wanted to explore in his final moments before his death came. Part was to help in the analysis, but a larger part was curiosity. He wanted to know what the Gahana knew, and that desire…no, need…was very atypical of him.

At least atypical of him since he had become a cranium and an Elloquim. He remembered similar curiosity when he still had a biological brain, and a great deal of the Maty was information on various races throughout this galaxy. Several of them were cyborgs, and the Gahana analysis of them indicated a similar dysfunction when they attempted to remove all biological components, particularly in the brain.

It desensitized them, leaving only logic behind. Nevantha did not comprehend this, for there was nothing beyond logic…yet his current curiosity seemed to be a breakthrough that indicated he was in fact suffering from this dysfunction. Now that he had the Gahana notes on these other races to analyze…all of which were now extinct…he was able to partially self-analyze and discover some blind spots in his own psyche even as the Hadarak were in the process of killing him.

He was undergoing more growth and self-realization now than he had throughout his time after his acclimation to Elloquim status. It was ironic…yet another sensation that was not logical or mechanical…that such breakthroughs would come now when he had no chance to make use of them.

But then he felt another non-logical sensation…awe. Not at the Maty, but at the sudden appearance of Star Force reinforcements in the system. He had anticipated they would come, and fail to secure the system given the escalating Hadarak presence despite the impressive combat capability the V’kit’no’sat had been demonstrating…which was superior to his previous estimates.

Yet what his limited sensors were perceiving now was not computing.

The Star Force Borg vessels…typically carrying their trailblazer warlords…were arriving here along with their smaller vessels and engaging the Hadarak immediately. They did not group up as the V’kit’no’sat had and form defensive alignments. No, they were behaving totally irrationally and diving at the enemy with no chance of victory.

Yet the ships didn’t die, and when Nevantha was able to tap into the Star Force battlemap in limited fashion he was able to get enough data to begin analyzing in depth how they were engaging the Hadarak with such reckless aggression and living…only to be more perplexed.

The battle algorithms they were using were beyond his own. That should not have been possible, but by reverse engineering their movements and engagements he was able to start writing superior methodology to anything he had on record for them or any other race in the galaxy, and he soon tracked it back to its source.

The trailblazers.

Comm signal density was off the charts given how much remote operations they were using, and it was peaking from their Borg vessels, meaning they were the most active control centers despite their own battles…for they were not standing off and defending. They were throwing themselves into the thickest Hadarak formations, including one coming to the planet and physically smashing into the clouds of minions and warships above the Maty.

It was the Megazord, known to be commanded by trailblazer Morgan-063, and her ship collided with such force that it lost shields and took armor damage…yet she plowed a conduit through the blockade above enough that Nevantha could finally see some stars around the periphery for a few moments until the swarm coalesced around her ship again, resuming the total blackout of the sky with her equally black ship sticking through with small pinpricks of light that were explosions on the surface along with some weaponsfire returning back…though not much was needed on the underside.

Her ship came within a few hundred miles of Nevantha, sparing him from the Hadarak bombardment as all their attention turned on the massive ship…then the Elloquim’s limited Essence sensors indicated a buildup within the vessel.

He had been upgraded by Star Force heavily so that he could learn to drawn from his own Essence…which filled his entire body…and use it to produce a shield against Essence attacks. That shield was the only reason the Elloquim had survived when the other PanNari ships had not, for they were able to defend against the Lurkers. And through that defense they could kill them if they managed to pin them in place long enough to get a tentacle on them. For once attached, the Lurkers could not escape, and Nevantha had personally killed two such enemies before they grew wise enough to stop attempting to ram or engage them within close rage…and from further range Essence attacks lost their power, so the Elloquim had been able to stand them off.

But Star Force had also given them sensors they could use to detect and monitor Essence usage, predicting the approach of the Lurkers even when conventional sensors couldn’t see them. And now those sensors were peaking beyond thresholds as the Borg vessel charged in some fashion.

Nevantha didn’t sit and waste the opportunity. He repaired more of himself and used his weapons to shoot at the swarm around the edge of the Star Force cubical vessel…then suddenly all the minions in the sky stopped moving…except to fall.

All of them. Even the larger warships. They all fell to the planet as one, with Nevantha unable to account for it. There were weapons from the Neofan that could do things like this, but his sensors couldn’t identify Essence weaponry in terms of type, only charge and presence.

The death toll from the Hadarak was so large Nevantha could not process it due to the density of the swarms and their blocking sensor beams with their mass, but they came pouring down on top of him, and he wisely deactivated his remaining shields so they wouldn’t be drained by the impacts.

He took the impact on his hull, with it denting and breaking in many places as he was completely buried by corpses. The Elloquim had to dig through them with a tentacle to get a sensor pod above the pile so he could monitor the battlefield above and around him, for he was totally entombed in the dead…as were his fellow Elloquim that had not been directly underneath the Borg vessel.

And that Borg vessel casually rotated 72 degrees to the left, with an avalanche of dead Hadarak falling off its topside and down onto the piles below that covered Elloquim Brin, rising so high they almost touched the underside of the Star Force vessel and the magma taps Nevantha had into the planet registered a slight shift in the planetary crust downward as it was compressed under so much weight from the corpses.

With the skies clear around Maty, Nevantha’s sensors from his snorkel probe could get a good view of the higher orbits…and the ferocity of the Star Force ships was beyond measure. They attacked with such confidence that they did not layer in a margin of error in their attacks, for they were measured so precisely to push their shields and armor to the limits of what the Hadarak could attack them with. Such predication was beyond Nevantha’s capability, and he knew of no computer systems even approaching a basic PanNari craniem in Star Force possession.

He processed capabilities, possibilities, and crosschecked against variables of coincidence, finding no logical reason for Star Force’s combat organizational precision.

That left his only conclusion to be that it was the trailblazers themselves.

That was illogical, but it was happening before him…and not just with the use of Essence weaponry. Their convention technology was being utilized in a fashion the Elloquim could not totally quantify.

And that was when Nevantha experienced another ping of irony, for he was now as perplexed about this battle acumen as he was with the discoveries within Maty. But what followed it was far more intense. An emotion that was totally illogical, for the universe did not factor in wishing. Logic dictated what was and was not possible.

Yet Nevantha was now experiencing Hope. Hope that Star Force could defy his logical analysis of eventual demise and somehow do the impossible.

For it was the impossible that he was now viewing, buried beneath his protective cocoon of dead Hadarak as he continued to pursue the subsurface and surface conflicts, for the Borg vessel hovering above him had not touched them with its attack…also curious.

The Star Force battlemap, along with the signal data from the other Elloquim not on the planet, showed similar wonders taking place across the system as a new stream of reinforcements began arriving in low orbit of the stars on a conventional jumpline…all of which were identifying as Star Force Clan fleets.

They had brought their most elite troops here en mass, and what they were accomplishing was mathematically impossible, even calculating in the incalculable influence of Essence. Basic parameters of its effect had been estimated previously, and even with generous increases, this should not have been possible.

He was in the presence of superiors, despite the impossibility of that, so Nevantha did the only logical thing and opened a comm channel to the Borg vessel holding position above him and sniping away at more swarm ships coming in from far on the horizon and being downed in lethal precision that allowed none close to the Maty.

ELLOQUIM NEVANTHA REQUESTING INCLUSION IN YOUR COMMAND NETWORK, he said, transmitting his current condition and remaining capabilities. WHAT ARE YOUR ORDERS?

4

Morgan-063 raced through her ship using lifts at first, then running the last bit of distance to one of the hangar bays as one of the Elloquim’s tentacles reached up and made contact with the ship, covering the wide shield that separated the hangar from the exterior.

When she got into the bay she saw the center of that tentacle had an opening as promised, and she launched herself off the ground into a superman jump/fly directly into it…then flew down the waterslide-like corridor as she headed towards the ground in her combat armor.

Morgan went alone, getting a boost from the Elloquim as it gripped her in a forcefield and pulled her down the length of its tentacle faster than she could have flown on her own, whipping by the illuminated markers so fast everything appeared as a blur, then she slowed and came to a right angle, being pulled through it without having to do anything, as she entered the main body of the living ship.

But she didn’t stop there, for Nevantha was providing her a quick and protected route down into the bedrock in which he was half burrowed all the way to one of the entrances to the Maty, but he couldn’t get her inside, for his connecting tendrils were blocking the entrance and too narrow for Morgan to pass through anyway.

The Elloquim got her within 800 meters of it, then withered his tendrils enough for her to slide by them as she passed the Maty’s shield cupola and entered the construct. As soon as she moved inside she felt a sense of foreboding, but didn’t have time to analyze it. As soon as she got into the clear, she took off racing towards the nearest Core she could sense with her Essence abilities, for all others were being blocked by the Maty’s walls.

Morgan ran/flew towards the nearest contact, then came into a hallway with a single roaming Hadarak minion that she killed with a single shot to its small head from her forearm Dre’mo’don. It was a scout, and far away from any of the others. Perhaps it had gotten lost now that their telepathic signals were jammed, but whatever the case was it was dead, and the first of many to come as Morgan completely disconnected with the space battles above and allowed her ship to fight on its own as needed. This was where she needed to be, where she wanted to be, and it was time to rack up an all-time high killcount solo until she came across some of the V’kit’no’sat down here.

She had no idea where they were, and her battlemap signals were being blocked by the walls as well, though the PanNari infrastructure they’d laid down here was now relaying some of them from above, but nothing on the troops inside.

That wasn’t a problem for Morgan. In fact, she preferred fighting alone, and took off leaving the first minion kill behind in search of more as she gently squeezed the irregular armored glove she wore on her left hand. The rest of her armor was typical of a trailblazer, but the glove was different and the first time she’d ever wore one into combat…for it had multiple jewels in it, each a massive Magicite storage device for Essence.

It was called the Infinity Gauntlet, and while not a weapon of its own, it would give Morgan almost unlimited Essence to fight hand to hand with.

And she expected to need all of it.

Kyra was still alive…as incredible as that was. The scores of Hadarak invading the facility had not let up, and yet the superior combat technology of the Zel’zat were what was keeping her alive as she rode inside yet another and directed it. That direction had improved greatly as she developed a better understanding of the devices and how they operated, but the magic of the design still eluded her and she found it preferable to treat them as if they were a person, for that type of interaction fared better than normal software interaction.

Her Kel’zat was currently pushing back another wave of zerglings on its own while smaller automated devices were melting and removing the corpses far behind her in the hallway. Had the Maty not had that capability the corridors would have been clogged beyond measure by now, and the Kel’zats would not have been able to maneuver as well as needed. So as many minions as she killed on a daily basis had to be cleaned up, and where their liquefied corpses were being taken she didn’t know and didn’t have time to figure out, but the beehive of floating drones was eradicating her victories from a few moments ago behind her as if they knew there was nothing ahead that could overwhelm her Kel’zat and threaten them.

And that seemed to be a trend. The little cleaning bots would never appear unless it was modestly safe, and to date she had never seen one take a single hit of damage…but they were never far from the battle lines, and in the few times where her Kel’zat needed to retreat for repairs, they scurried out of its way at only the last moment, making her think it was going to step on them each time.

They were one of many oddities showing up in the Maty during this neverending combat, but not the largest. There were other machines out there, weird ones, that did not respond to her or her Kel’zat, but they were obviously part of the Maty’s defense, though they also did not respond to Nevantha or the other Elloquim who thought they’d taken full control of the Maty’s defense systems.

Apparently there were layers to them, and some of the layers were beyond their view. Kyra had seen one snake-like machine tunneling through the enemy minions as if they were irrelevant and killing them on contact, only to have smaller glowing ones flying in its wake headed where she didn’t know, but the snake had been clearing them a path.

Kyra had tried to follow once, but the Kel’zat wouldn’t allow it, overriding her navigational commands and instead going somewhere else where there was fighting to be done, making her part driver part passenger, but regardless they were being effective as the Hadarak could not completely take over the Maty, though some areas that craniem had taken control of were now cut off from hardline communications.

Kyra had tried many times to get to them, but the Kel’zat wouldn’t allow it…and she’d later found out why. Resistance in some areas was worse, and while she couldn’t monitor what was going on throughout the Maty, that didn’t mean its own defense systems didn’t know. It seemed like the Kel’zat had a self-preservation code running, and it wouldn’t allow them to suicide into a fight that was beyond their capacity to handle.

But right now Kyra was being led into light combat, with her suspecting that it would turn heavy soon, but to her surprise once she got around the next bend the minion flow stopped, with her ordering the Kel’zat to stomp on the last few trying to scurry under beneath it rather than use its powered weapons.

It didn’t object, and mashed three of them into goo while having to shoot the fourth that otherwise slipped underneath its lion-like body, but after that there was nothing ahead to fight…but the Kel’zat was indicating that they needed to go forward.

Kyra agreed, and the quadruped leapt into a light run as it traveled down clean corridors through a zigzag of a path that would have confused biologicals, but Kyra added each twist and turn to her mental map, filling in a little more of the Maty’s massive labyrinth until one of the corridors dead-ended into an opening that had a sheer dropoff going down a very lightly curved wall. The view beyond was massive, for it was some sort of indoor valley, and it was choked with minions and Hadarak growths that were apparently being fed by their own dead.

Too much, she acknowledged, but the Kel’zat disagreed, highlighting a tiny patch of the zoo ahead of them that was in more movement than the others…

And the tiny little Star Force biped killing them with wild abandon.

Identify, Kyra ordered, with the Maty’s own file popping up what it already had accumulated on this one. It was one of their trailblazers, she knew that much, but the Maty couldn’t hack their comm system to know for sure, yet Kyra had their basic codes and gave them to the Kel’zat…with Morgan-063’s ID signature popping up on the file now that the Maty knew how to read it.

But the combat profile rating it had given her was beyond the realm of possibility.

Confirm accuracy.

The Kel’zat scoffed at that request, reiterating that the analysis was correct and wanting to move in and assist. Kyra knew this may very well be her deathknell, but if the Kel’zat wanted to engage then it couldn’t be as suicidal as it looked.

In her momentary deliberations the Kel’zat highlighted several structures in the valley that were not of Hadarak construction, indicating their value as higher than normal within the Maty and requesting that they recover them from enemy possession.

It seemed reckless, but Kyra decided to trust the Kel’zat and gave her acceptance…but it didn’t move. When she inquired as to why it gave her position locations around the perimeter of the artificial valley, and when she zoomed in on some of them she saw other Kel’zat waiting on identical perches and empty ones…that were quickly being filled by new arrivals.

So it didn’t want to attack alone, but in a pack. So much the better, especially with all the room to maneuver in here.

Kyra waited patiently until it was ready, then she signaled for it to move in…and as one, some 348 Kel’zat leapt into the air out of the surrounding tubes, and flew/fell down the slopped walls until they got their feet under them and ran down the increasing curves all the way to the enemy infestation below.

Flying minions intercepted them before they got to the bottom, but they didn’t have the firepower to stop the mechanical beasts, and when Kyra’s Kel’zat got within range of the ground formations it transformed…

The body shape altered slightly, the armor puckered and tightened up in certain spots, and new weapons formed on the flanks as it ran into the hordes and unleashed an inferno off either side as if it was the center in an hourglass of fire that incinerated the attacking minions to the left and right.

Those ahead it dealt with in more conventional manner, but further on Kyra could see little fires all over the valley as the other Kel’zat were doing the same. Why this Kel’zat or the others she had ridden in didn’t use this technique before she didn’t know, but it was very effective at killing those within 70 meters of it, though it created so much smoke normal visuals barely functioned and the Kel’zat had to rely on other sensors to navigate.

Kyra was ‘safely’ inside her cargo hold, connected to the Kel’zat electronically, but she felt lost in the combat as the machine’s war coding far surpassed her own in the melee. The Hadarak were not willing victims, and they fought hard with swarm tactics that nearly knocked her Kel’zat over and pinned it to the ground multiple times, but the fire cones fixed that problem on each occasion, allowing it to get back to its feet and shoot/stomp more and more of them all the way up to one of the growths that had partially encased a vertical cylinder that the Kel’zat had tagged as a priority target to be rescued.

It was larger than the Kel’zat by a factor of 18, and towered over the combat below, yet the Hadarak growth was taller than it, and wrapped around it in a coil with large bulbs forming at various places. The Kel’zat’s feet produced claws that Kyra had never seen before and it leapt at one of the corkscrewing ‘ropes’ that led upward and dug in on it to get grip, then it began to climb as many minions tried to jump at it and pull it back down.

As it climbed the head portion billowed a green energy that ignited and withered the growth beneath it, leaving a black trail of dripping goo behind as they finally rose high enough to get out of the smoke layer covering the battlefield. Not far above that the Kel’zat stopped and proceeded to use its face weapon to begin cutting all the way across one of the spiral tethers while keeping it forward claws dug in to the growth above.

Finally it snapped, with the Kel’zat’s rear feat falling off, but it held on above and scrambled up as the lower portion tiled away and began to uncoil, flinging itself in an arc around the cylinder multiple times before the whole thing came crashing down on the minions below.

That was when Kyra finally saw it. The cylinder was not opaque, but translucent, and what was inside it had been mostly obscured by the growths, but not now. Not on the lower section.

Inside was a monster, frozen in place. Kyra didn’t know what race it was, but a quick check with the Kel’zat confirmed it was still alive and entrusted to the Maty for safekeeping…which was why they couldn’t let the Hadarak cut through the protective barrier and gain access to it.

Kyra’s Kel’zat continued to climb and burn as it went, getting all the way to the top where it severed the connection to the growths that were taller than the cylinder…and that was when Kyra realized there were many, many cylinders behind it. Some occupied, some not, but with Hadarak growths covering most of them.

Key points on the growths were now being highlighted, and Kyra could see other Kel’zat climbing like they were and seeming to chew them away with their face weaponry. Her Kel’zat was assigned two more spots, and by the time she finished the last pits attached to her cylinder broke free and fell away, but the main growth still stood, traveling three quarters of the way to the ceiling and continuing to growth further a few inches every minute.

Then the Kel’zat took over and perched on the top of the cylinder it produced a mooring beam out of its eye sockets, attaching to the main stalk at the same time other Kel’zat on other cylinders did likewise…then Kyra noted the combat at the base just before a large crack sounded as the trailblazer down there somehow broke through the 215 meter wide mass.

Her Kel’zat pushed immediately, and with the others they guided the massive stalk, now deprived of its side anchors, away from the cylinders to where it fell and hit one of the side walls and bent, but did not touch the ground as it was now leaning on the valley while the base tried to skid the other way, plowing into minions that could not avoid the movement.

The trailblazer leapt up on top of it, then hopped over the edge and fell down out of view on the far side…only to see hundreds of Hadarak minion corpses blown upward over the obstruction as some sort of explosion took place.

She asked the Kel’zat where should they go next, and in response it jumped off the cylinder into freefall…with Kyra bracing her body as much as she could in case the anti-grav dampeners didn’t fully work. The Kel’zat didn’t brake on its way down, and hit with full force on the ground, smashing three minions and leaving footprints in the hard deck plates as deep as her ankles…then they were running and burning and fighting again as Kyra tried to catalog the monsters inside each of the cylinders they passed.

They were not all the same. In fact none of them were identical, but all were similar in that they were large with rock-like texture, possibly of the same race, but also possibly from similar ones.

That was when she remembered a vague reference in the information Nevantha had been sifting through and she had been ineffectively observing. The Maty was referred to as a library, though she had thought that meant data collection, for the PanNari only had data, and most other ‘libraries’ throughout the galaxy were the same…but not all.

What is stored in the Maty? she asked the Kel’zat, not expecting a full, or perhaps even any answer, but it responded quickly and pithily.

The past and the future.

That was when Kyra realized that ‘library’ didn’t mean knowledge alone. It meant ‘storehouse’ as well. They were cataloging things by taking samples and storing them here, or some variant of that purpose. It may have also meant safe haven, for these cylinders were not tagged as dangerous.

In fact, she had the odd feeling they were survivors of some ancient cataclysm.

The Maty wasn’t a data center, it was a treasure trove, and the PanNari had only seen the data side of it. There was more here, a great deal more, and something in this massive mystery the Hadarak wanted, and wanted badly. And whatever was in these cylinders was part of it.

Kyra tried to get a signal back to the Craniem, but there were no communications nodes in range. What she had discovered here would die with her if they didn’t survive, though right now protecting whatever these monsters were seemed to be the higher priority, and the Kel’zat agreed, wanting to know which of three nearby targets Kyra wanted to go after now that they were back in standard ‘kill everything in sight’ protocol…

5

December 3, 154960

System 9923004 (Hadarak-Occupied Territory)

Low Stellar Orbit

Paul-024 had been linked into his Astromech onboard the Excalibur for 3 days straight without a single minute of disconnection. His body was being fed by the regenerator in his heavily armored pod, and his Saiyan genetics were no longer nagging at him as they once would now that they’d been upgraded into a calmer Furyan version, but the stagnation was eating at him…and he was simply ignoring it.

The battle for the system was still ongoing, and wasn’t going to let up anytime soon. Paul and the other 78 trailblazers here had isolated the planet with Maty in it, and the others were busy cleaning its surface of minions after already killing their production ships in space, but the Hadarak naval forces were still in immense numbers spread across the system with more coming in from 16 different jumplines.

That was one more than yesterday, and they were all pouring into low orbit around the pair of stars. None were even trying to come out early elsewhere in the system, which meant the naval battles around the figure eight orbital structure were where the highest density of combat was occurring by far…and that’s where Paul had stationed himself along with Liam-090, Blade-097, Greg-073, and Jack-020 as they led a large, but far-outnumbered combined Clan fleet in combat against those minions and warships already here, plus those continuing to pour in through the jumplines that they were trying to ambush with limited effect.

Two were around one star, two around the other, while Paul was holding position between them in the gap that several jumplines ran to, given that it was the center of mass between the pair of stars. He had the Excalibur there surrounded by a sea of drones and no Clan warships…for the combat in the area was too intense and the ‘smaller’ ships would be destroyed. Nothing smaller than a Borg vessel was survivable in this maelstrom and Paul knew it…plus he was hold the most obnoxious position possible to draw the Hadarak towards him in an Alamo-style last hold situation while his brothers were doing most of the damage on the perimeter where the Hadarak were not so well stacked.

The others were spread across the system hunting down the Hadarak groups that had been here already, poaching the micro jumplines out to the planets, defending the 8th planet where Maty was, mining the outer sections of the primary jumplines so they could kill some ships as they passed through, and were guarding the few jumplines that were seeing more Star Force ships arriving, though they were few in number. Almost all of their summoned force was here, with only the tail ends of the convoys still to arrive. Star Force had what it needed here. It was simply up to the trailblazers to make use of it to take the system.

Holding it against a never-ending assault was another matter entirely.

Yet holding the stars was proving the most difficult challenge of Paul’s life. Even Azoro refused to speak to him for fear of distracting his hyperprocessing. The Hadarak moved and coordinated well with their telepathy, but Paul’s drone coordination made them look like they were standing still. He was constricted by comm lag, of course, but he adapted to it better than the Hadarak did and had his forces swirling here and there in unpredictable patterns that the Hadarak did not know how to engage…so they simply headed for the massive Borg vessel in the center of his defensive formation and tried to destroy it.

Which is what he had planned on.

Several Wardens had tried to ram, and more were occasionally attempting to improve on their luck with minion wedges to escort them in, but none were getting through the dampening shields on the Excalibur due to its position at the center of the gravity well. Any Warden close enough to try to ram had to pull on two stars that were not in front or behind them, but essentially to the sides…meaning their engine power was minimal. The same went for the minions and Paul’s drones, but his Borg vessel didn’t need to maneuver, for it was holding position, and the lack of normal maneuvering power was making the Hadarak react even slower than normal.

Paul was processing all of it with the help of his Astromech that his Core was now partially spread into. It was temporarily a part of his body and brain, giving him additional computational power, but it was his instincts that were winning this fight, not pre-recorded attack programs in the drones. Those were minimally effective against the Hadarak when at a numerical disadvantage approaching 1000:1, but the presence of the Excalibur didn’t truly count as ‘1’ as it was a massive mobile fort that was now dug in with its flanks essentially protected by the two stars as all the reinforcements were coming not from them, but from around them, making this essentially a 2D fighting plane.

Some were trying to move around ‘above’ and ‘below’, but Paul was cutting them off with drone fleets easily enough. In fact, not all of his drones were deployed, and were still packed in tightly on several massive carriers he had stationed nearby. He was pulling new drones off them when his previous ones were destroyed, giving him reinforcements without cluttering up the battlefield too much.

That’s what the Hadarak wanted. A slug fest without maneuvering room, but Paul wasn’t giving it to them…and when they got their swarms in close to his ship, or more precisely when he allowed it, the Essence weapons on the Excalibur wiped them off the battlefield, making one wonder why the Hadarak kept repeating the same type of attacks over and over again.

Perhaps they knew he had a limited amount of Essence to use, or perhaps they didn’t know any other way to fight. Also, there were no Wardens here that were not trying to ram, and some theorized they were the better tacticians that led the minions rather than the warships variants.

One Lurker had tried to sneak in and get to his command ship, but it had been pinned and vaporized outside its primary attack range. Paul knew better than to take chances with them, so he didn’t hold back on Essence usage whenever they appeared. Riona had died when her fleet had been jumped by one before they had Essence defenses, and to date they were the only real countermeasure against them. Ysalamir worked if you had time to slug it out, but the Lurkers rarely operated that way. They truly were gigantic assassins, and if you were going to kill assassins before they could get to their target, you had to do it just as fast.

He wasn’t surprised no more were trying, but the rest of the Hadarak were being quite stupid in their attacks. Had Star Force’s equipment not been so resilient the swarming would have worked, but they had no chance of getting to Paul as long as he remained in this position…and as long as he kept directing the fighting personally.

That was when three contacts emerged from within one of the stars, accelerating fast with Essence enhancement and giving Paul only a few moments to react…but a few moments to him were more than enough time in his enhanced computer-interlinked combat mode.

The Excalibur created an Essence shield over the side of the ship they were approaching while thickening the light dampening field that surrounded his ship. He extended it in the direction they were coming, knowing that it wouldn’t expand far enough in time, but it would slow them on approach.

Paul added an Essence component to it, enhancing the effect as the first of the three Lurkers hit the outer boundaries of it…with him noticing that they were not slowing…so he moved the Excalibur laterally, peeling it partially out of the way as the arrowhead-shaped Hadarak attempted to ram him.

He fired a disintegration burst along with an enhanced Tar’vem’jic towards them before they got into range, with the first one taking both hits and flying into a field of debris that stuck in the dampening field like ornamentation as the other two passed through a few microseconds later.

Paul could do the math, and without good maneuvering capabilities he wasn’t going to be able to evade…so he accelerated towards the opposite star, getting about the best gravitational pull one could get in this close and heading directly towards it as he launched a ‘nose blunt’ attack against the next one, throwing what was the equivalent of an Essence Jumat energy field that hit it as a physical impact at an angle designed to deflect it, and that’s what happened. The second Lurker skipped past the Excalibur, and as it did Paul hit it with three different Essence weapons, but didn’t kill it as it passed by damaged.

The third he couldn’t deflect or stop in time, and it would have rammed into and penetrated his Essence shields if he allowed them to stay up…so right before impact he lowered and retracted them to defend the inner core of the Borg vessel where the crew were just before the Lurker made impact with his conventional shields.

The nose tip of the beast crumpled on impact before the shields collapsed, but the Lurker had so much mass and momentum the mathematics of it were determinant. It plowed into the Excalibur’s armor and plunged into the more massive warship like a knife at first, then as its width widened it got stuck halfway, only to use its Essence power to disintegrate the ship around its insertion point.

59 miles deep of Paul’s vessel exploded outward, but retracted Essence shield #1 kept it from going further, and now that his ship’s mass had stopped the Lurker’s movement, he kicked it back out away from him with another Jumat-like blast called a Lo’par’yi. It was one of many techniques Star Force had learned from the Temples and Neofan and reworked to their own uses, and Paul used it now as he accelerated more towards the star as the other damaged Lurker tried to double back on him.

But before either could gain enough speed to ram, he disappeared into the outer layers of the star.

What are you doing? Azoro asked, unable to see it within his mind due to the speed at which he was calculating other stuff unrelated to the present movement…because Paul had a habit of thinking ahead and then leaving a little bit of his mind to carry out present operations simultaneously, making monitoring him in this state almost impossible.

Being unpredictable, he said, offering no further explanation as the Excalibur fired deeper into the star with one of its Essence weapons…which triggered an explosion in the upper layers that he braced the ship against with the intact shield generators on the side opposite the Lurker impact…and due to the redundant design of the Excalibur, the massive damage done didn’t hinder the other parts of the ship in their various functions, though the loss still affected total combat capability.

Paul and his crew rode the explosion outward, using their engines to reverse direction and diminish the pressure wave as the star micro-novaed in an explosion across an eighth of its surface into the gap between stars. It wasn’t fast enough to hit the minions or his drones, but it did provide him cover as his ship came back into space, now in the midst of a quickly cooling asteroid field that made it difficult for the Lurkers to move through without constantly running into objects.

That gave Paul some time to look at them and for them to look at him as they were temporarily locked into the outward flow from the star. The 2nd Lurker had two chunks missing out of it, looking like bites taken on either flank, while the other one was missing its ramming tip, which was the weakest part of the Lurker despite the slightly denser armor there.

Once the comm channels returned, Paul sent orders to his drones, with bands of them peeling off the carrier ships and headed towards the approaching nova. Their smaller size allowed them to maneuver between the larger pieces, with the less coalesced plasma and gas spreading out as it traveled, meaning reduced resistance to the drones who aligned against the flow and sculpted their shields into points to make them the most aerodynamic possible as they raced towards the Lurkers that were trying to gently maneuver out of the mess.

But they couldn’t leave before the drones got to them, and while they could target and kill the drones on approach, their weapons were line of sight…and with so much debris, the drones were able to get closer than normal.

And they were not normal drones, not all of them. Some were one time use Essence-carriers that produced shields that lasted only a few seconds to shield other drones with warheads up to the Lurkers’ hulls.

The first few blasts caught the Lurkers off guard, then when they realized the threat of the tiny drones they tried to run…with one of them making a microjump through the field and ramming several pieces of glowing debris and killing itself in the process. The other hesitated, getting savaged by the drones, then made a less fast jump, hitting debris on purpose at survivable speeds as the drones chased after it, soon making the kill and leaving extra to spare.

Paul had those drones return to their docking racks as he organized the regular ones still engaging in combat. They hadn’t fared as well without his direct control, but as soon as the Excalibur got out of the main comm interference the battle visibly shifted as the brains behind the Star Force fleet movements returned.

“Paul, are you ok?” Liam asked over a slight time lag.

“Heavy damage, but no casualties. I’ve been expecting something like that for millennia, but I didn’t see it coming here. Almost worked.”

“I’m sending Essence sensor drones into the star near me. I suggest you do the same in case they try a second time.”

No need, Azoro said, sending a small tap into Paul’s brain that gave him a much more complicated view of the Saiolum currents than he could produce himself, but his companion cut it off instantly to not distract him. I will watch.

“Azoro says he can monitor for the same tactic again, but I want both stars and the gas giants mined with drones so we know when and where the Lurkers, Wardens, or anything else comes and goes from them,” Paul said, sending orders to his own drones while making the request to the entire Star Force fleet.

“How long are you going to stay there without a break?”

“Have you taken one?”

“Four short ones. My crew is well trained and covered adequately. Isn’t yours?”

“If I had been napping a moment ago we’d be dead.”

“Then get out of the box canyon you’re in.”

“I can handle another day, perhaps two. I’m boosting your killcount considerably by playing bait.”

“We don’t have to rush this, Paul. We’re going to win.”

“Not until we get the jumppoints. Talk to me after we have them under control.”

“That might take another 5 days. And even if you last that long, you’ll be trashed afterwards.”

“Then tell the others to hurry up with the rest of the system and get their asses down here.”

“They’re not dragging their feet,” Liam noted, dismissing Paul’s ire. He’d seen him like this before, and it wasn’t intentional. He was overloaded and burning out. “Jason is coming, though.”

Paul mentally laughed, given his body was all but silent inside his pseudo-sarcophagus. “You tattled on me?”

“Someone had to.”

Paul waved off the comm and stayed focused on the waves of minions coming into the ‘box canyon’ as Liam had described it, eventually seeing another Borg cube fly into the gap along with a wedge of drones. They cut through easily, but like drawing a line in the ocean with your finger, the water refilled almost instantly, and the same was true of the Hadarak minions continuing to enter the system through nearby spouts that were so heavily guarded that the Star Force combined fleet had been able to lock down only one, and Megan-026 and Kip-022 were both camping out at the base of that line with a gauntlet of drones on either side killing all the Hadarak as they came in instantly while simultaneously fighting on their outer flanks as other Hadarak tried to remove them from their prime ambush position.

When Jason’s Sanguine Blade came to Paul’s drone line he moved them aside to let it pass, with Jason’s drones deploying alongside Paul’s and meshing together seamlessly as they kept the Essence capable minions well away from the manned vessels.

“Nap time, buddy,” Jason said once his Borg vessel came up alongside and sat only 600 miles away…which was dangerously close for ships 327 miles wide. “We’re double teaming it from here on out, and right now is my watch. I can handle your ship and mine.”

“I’m good for a while longer, Jason.”

“Good, yes. Good for later, no. Disconnect and sleep for a few hours. You’re the only one who hasn’t.”

“Really?” he asked, not having had time to even consider that.

“You beat Roger by 9 hours. Now take your victory and recharge. We’re not getting control of this system anytime soon.”

“And that triple Lurker formation has you spooked?”

“As it does you. They want Maty bad, and I don’t understand why.”

“Likewise. They also want us dead.”

“It’s more than that. There’s something here we’re not aware of, and neither of us are in a position to worry about that now. You can think on it while you nap, but I doubt you’ll have time. I dropped off within two minutes.”

“You timed it?”

“The computer did. Now get going. We’re going to have to stretch later, I fear.”

“Right,” Paul agreed, having assumed the worst would be up front, but their inability to quickly seize all the necessary jumppoints had him worried as well. “I’m out.”

I can’t warn the others, Azoro noted as Paul relinquished command of his ship and fleet to Jason in a microsecond.

Wake me if you have to. I can communicate with Jason as needed as long as I am wearing a commlink or in a room with a node.

You do not need a rest yet.

I agree, but Jason is thinking ahead more than I am. He’s right if this goes really long term. I can’t regenerate as fast later as I can now. The burnout affects it, Paul said as he ignored everything, including Azoro, and began to withdraw his Core from his Astromech…a process that took several minutes to accomplish.

When he finished he blinked his eyes open and ordered the meter thick armor plate over his vertical cupola to open, with him stepping out of his body-molded cradle on very stiff steps.

“Oww,” he groaned, not realizing his Furyan body would get that bad after only a few days. “That’s worse than when I was a Human.”

Perhaps your adaptation was more to activity than static endeavors.

“Duh,” Paul said, reminding himself of the obvious as he hobbled across a short bridge that held a chasm so deep he couldn’t see the bottom of it…just in case boarders got this far on the ship and he needed a moat for some extra protection. Plus it reminded him of the Death Star.

Paul walked to the other side and then to a nearby room that had a bed, food, bathroom, and everything else he needed. He put a little food in his stomach, for he wasn’t actually hungry, then laid down face up and crossed his hands over his chest as he closed his eyes once again, calming his mind and accepting the fatigue prompt that was now growing in focus as his battle-numbing diminished.

When he did, sleep mode came easily, as Jason had predicted, and Paul drifted off fully trusting his friend to watch his back as he slept and the system-wide battle continued to rage beyond his perfectly quiet and secluded refuge within his massive warship.

6

December 6, 154960

System 9923004 (Hadarak-Occupied Territory)

8th planet

Morgan-063 had met up with the V’kit’no’sat troops inside the Maty on the second day of fighting, and since then had been taking brief respites in their makeshift camp inside the construct, but each time she woke she went out alone to fight in an area where there were no others. No V’kit’no’sat, no PanNari, no automated defenses. She wanted nothing but enemies before her, and that was what she was getting with no end in sight even after Star Force secured orbit and cleansed the surface of the roving armies.

But somehow the Hadarak already had underground bases that were feeding reinforcements in through tunnels. Some of those entrances had been fought to and secured, with Morgan taking 5 of them single handedly and sealing them with a simple code the PanNari had discovered. Manual input was required at the site, but other than that it was a simple matter of closing the blast doors that the Hadarak could not cut their way through.

Everything other than monitoring and communications seemed to be configured for manual operation in the Maty, and by communications Morgan meant the facility’s own, for everyone else’s was blocked, even telepathy…but not her Essence sense. Apparently the builders of the Maty didn’t have that technology, or perhaps knowledge of it, and Morgan was using it to navigate towards the largest concentrations of Hadarak as her armor kept track of her movements, making a map she could follow back later, because she wasn’t paying attention to what was behind her. She was focused full ahead and eager to kill as many Hadarak as she could before they accessed or destroyed the prizes held in the Maty…which had communicated to her as much on a very odd frequency, but using Star Force language and code prompts.

She didn’t know who had sent it, but it was labeled as the Maty itself, and the fact that it was getting through the walls seemed to confirm that. It had requested her help a number of times at various locations, but was silent to any type of return conversation. Recently it had been quiet and Morgan was out searching for more targets on her own since the flow into the facility had diminished, but it was so large Star Force hadn’t been able to lock down all the entrances yet and do a proper sweep, so Morgan had no idea how many were left, but she could feel a great deal of them in various directions, meaning this fight was far from over.

The Furyan turned down another random hallway, this one on an incline going lower in the facility that appeared to have no lifts in it…or perhaps cleverly hidden ones. Regardless, Morgan had been running up and down a lot of these, and at the bottom she came across more Hadarak, but they weren’t moving as all the others seemed to be. These were standing still and clogging the hallway like a roadblock, with many of the larger varieties that massed some 10-15 times what Morgan did.

She ran halfway down the hall, then tipped forward and kicked off the floor, flying low over it and forming a Jumat wave in front of her like a nosecone that she then released when she neared them and began to take fire. It punched a hole into them, smashing them backwards and into the walls a moment before she entered the concave and touched down on the momentarily clear floor and brandished her death sabers.

Morgan spun and dashed, with the blue energy blades cleaving the minion flesh with hardly any resistance, and with the tight confines in the hallway they couldn’t evade her, only try and fall on top and pin down their attacker, but Morgan’s other psionics pushed and pulled them aside, allowing her small body to slip between the cracks and continue to make more kills until she was on the far side of the crowd and into empty tunnel again.

She planted her foot and reversed course, sensing many that were not dead yet, and dove back into the mess, walking over severed bodies at first and then flipping over and walking on the ceiling using her armor boots to give her grip on it while flying a little here and there as she went about engaging the rest.

None ran away, though they had no chance against her. That wasn’t abnormal, but the fact that they were all standing in this one spot was. Had they meant to delay here from going further?

As she finished off the survivors Morgan reached out her senses ahead, finding nothing further down the tunnel, but there was a small group very close by on the other side of the wall.

The trailblazer sliced and dice the remainder, numbing her mind to the cauterized gore that this enemy forced her to fight in, but none of them would ever surrender or retreat, and this was the way it had to be done.

Morgan retracted her death sabers when she was finished, finding the floor completely covered with stacked body parts. She used her Lachka and began throwing some further down the hall to clear a spot on the floor for her to land, then she summoned up a Jumat wave, added some Essence to it, and blew the area clear with two tsunamis of Hadarak gore tumbling down the tunnel in either direction.

She moved the few lingering pieces in front of the now visible door to the side with her Lachka as she took a closer look behind with her Essence sight. She could see the glowing markers of people beyond, some of which were very bright, indicating Essence skills.

Morgan had never seen minions with Essence abilities. Not infantry anyway.

Now the gaggle outside the door made sense if they were guarding something inside. Perhaps some higher ranking minions they hadn’t seen before, or even some scientists? Whatever it was, she was getting in there, and Morgan ignited and sank her right death saber into the door frame…only to have it not penetrate more than a scratch.

She applied more pressure, getting it to move a tiny bit, but at this rate it would take forever to cut through the door.

Morgan moved down the hallway a bit and tried on the wall, finding the same resistance.

“Damn. I sure want to know what you guys build with,” she said, extinguishing the blade and instead peeling back the armor over her right palm to expose the slit in her hand that had not gone away with her transformation into a Furyan. Instead the baby Bra’hem inside had gotten an upgrade, but she knew it wouldn’t do a lot more than her blade, so she used an Essence technique the Archons had developed some time ago and recently modified for what they now called a Bra’stem. The energy produced was now more than twice as powerful thanks to their genetic upgrade, and the medtechs still hadn’t figured out why yet.

But Morgan didn’t need to know to use it, and opened her slit ever so slightly to produce a very fine beam the height of her thumb and a quarter inch wide. The now red beam burned into the door as she returned to it and chose the middle, pulling a Qui-gon and carving out her own person-sized opening.

Her cutting did make it through, slowly, but didn’t hit anything on the other side, for her Essence technique stopped the beam a few inches beyond her hand and redirected it backward, bouncing it over and over and conserving the energy expended when it made it all the way through. Morgan moved her hand around, creating a crude circle slightly taller than her over the course of a few minutes, then just before she finished coming back to the top and severing the last strand, she gripped the door plug with her Lachka to hold it steady as she finished.

The Archon pushed it in and tipped it forward, laying it down on the ground with the rim of it and the door glowing a sickly green from the heat still lingering in them as the few molten beads had already hardened into now glowing globs.

And beyond the opening Morgan saw other people, not Hadarak, from races she had never before seen.

The fully armored trailblazer stepped through casually, only to have several short spikes thrown through the air towards her, but a wave of her hand caught them in an energy field, then casually dumped them to the floor beside her.

“Be nice,” she said, with the hundreds of people here scurrying this way and that, with a few small groups actually heading towards her from various angles.

Morgan detected Essence buildup in several of them, as well as other psionic-ish things happening, as her spidey sense started screaming at her, but she wasn’t going to turn and run. Instead she decided to strike first…or second, if you count the futile spikes.

Morgan went Saiyan level 3 and zoomed ahead, heading for one of the psionic users then diverting to the left at the last moment to get to her real target…one of the Essence wielders. She put up every defensive technique she knew, including powering her armor’s technological Essence shield, and didn’t try anything offensive. That wasn’t Morgan’s style, or strength. Her hand to hand skill was.

She used her Lachka to grab the tentacle-like hexped and drag it closer rather than push it away, catching it offguard as she moved in to slice it with her death sabers, only to have them blocked on an invisible Essence field as slippery as could be, but when Morgan’s shoulder hit it, one of her techniques must have nullified the enemy’s defense, for her body moved through and she rammed it between the third and four leg ‘shoulder’ joints and felt several ribs crack as it was still simultaneously moving towards her.

A third of her defenses were drained immediately, and she knew that at this close range it was do or die, so when the enemy rebounded off her after the collision, she brought up her right arm and let loose with her Bra’stem without any time for Essence enhancement…and cored a hole through his angled torso that then extended up like a lance through his upper body and crab-like head, nearly bisecting him in less than a second.

Morgan spun and darted before he hit the ground, moving ahead of some energy field that just missed her from one of the psionic users. She reached out and crushed his neck with her Lachka, surprised that the attack got through, while simultaneously throwing a Jumat blast into a group on her left to knock them back and give her time to maneuver. Even in Saiyan mode there was a considerable amount of distance to travel in the large room that appeared to be a command center or viewing station, for there were numerous terminals and holograms, including a giant one of the system directly over their heads.

Several more attacks missed due to her speed, but then she took another Essence attack that drained her countermeasures to almost nothing. That put her into extra lethal mode, and her Saiyan speed increased further, as did her mental processing and all other body functions. She’d flirted with this during training, but this was the first time experiencing it full force, and she didn’t have a name for it yet, nor did that matter. These opponents were not Hadarak, but they were extremely lethal, and had fired on her first. Now she had no option but to kill them or run before they killed her, and she was well away from the doorway that was now obscured by a group of them attempting to cut off her possible retreat.

So be it, she decided, launching herself like a missile towards the nearest Essence user and leaping over him at the last moment and dragging her death sabers down across his head, finding them also useless, but she fired off a Jumat at the same time as well as several mental psionics to the surrounding group trying to slow down or distract them.

Her Jumat knocked him to the floor, then as his throat suddenly constricted and he pushed against it with an Essence technique to relieve the pressure, several Dre’mo’don blasts from Morgan’s wrist hit him in his unarmored back, burning through the clothes and skin as she was already on her way to her next target.

Back and forth she moved, feeling her opponents adapting to her and landing brushing attacks against her despite her erratic and blurry movements, which was when she finally used her Neeko Furyan ability that she and she alone had developed, creating two visual copies of herself using forcefields and pseudo holograms. Both they and her became shrouded, so you couldn’t tell which was which, and she managed to draw off several attacks as she launched herself towards the biggest Essence signature in the room, which came from a body half her size.

Morgan slid underneath another Essence attack and kicked the small alien in the chest, knocking him backwards as she shot him with her wrist-mounted cannons, taking him out quickly, though his attack hit and disintegrated two other people behind her that had not been engaged in the fighting and were cowering along the walls, exposing a third behind them that somehow blocked the attack on himself.

The Furyan used one trick after another, often having to launch three or four attacks at an opponent in rapid succession to allow just one to get through, and fortunately none of those assembled here were wearing armor or technology of any kind, let alone a symbiont like the Neofan and now the Varkemma had.

Morgan didn’t want to wear one, but would have liked the back up now, though before she realized it the fighting was over, with the last attacker crumpling to the ground with a hole in his chest the size of a football and Morgan standing several meters away as she slowed to a stop from her attack run, watching and scanning those remaining on the fringes.

“Are we done?” she demanded, breathing heavily and suddenly feeling a heavy headache set in. She’d been using something new in her physiology, and she was pretty sure she’d overloaded it, but she wasn’t going to tell them that.

“Well done,” a voice with a very weird accent said from the back of one of the huddling crowds in the Star Force language as the others pulled away to reveal a spider-like creature two meters wide and wearing skin-tight robes that had flaps here and there, but otherwise was a body suit that came all the way up to the neck that poked out of the middle of the top of the body and angled forward. “I did not expect you to survive the first three engagements.”

“Are there going to be more?” Morgan said, turning to face the creature while keeping her Pefbar and other senses covering the others.

“We disagreed how to approach you when you were killing the Hadarak outside. Aggression was not the preferred way, but the habits of some races are too strong for wisdom to override. You are securing this system, and even if we killed you we would have to deal with the others in your empire, and Star Force is not rumored to take kindly to the killing of its people.”

“The rumor is correct. Identify yourself,” Morgan said, trying to lock down the shaking in her arms and legs that wouldn’t seem to stop.

“We are observers from other galaxies. Our names you would not recognize.”

“Allies of the Hadarak?” Morgan said, taking a guess.

“Acquaintances would be a better term,” another of the aliens answered, walking up on Morgan’s left but keeping a respectful distance. “We heard there was someone resisting one of their purges, and we came to observe your techniques and how long you would last. We did not expect you to know of this place, let alone find it and take it from the Hadarak. You were not meant to know we were watching.”

“Why did the ‘watchers,’” Morgan said sarcasm heavy enough that she hoped he understood, “try to kill me?”

“We are not used to being in combat,” he admitted.

“Nor are we used to kneeling before inferiors,” a third alien said, this one standing twice as tall as Morgan, but was so spindly it looked like he could barely stand, though the Essence glow in him was quite bright, meaning he had skills. “Unlike you, we have an armistice with the Hadarak and many other races. We do not fight one another, nor do we take orders from one another. You coming here is unheard of, and they reacted in the way they thought best. Your combat skills were not recorded as being this ferocious.”

“Recorded by whom?”

“This facility is an ancient one that monitors this galaxy and records the major happenings. It has been studying Star Force for some time. Your ships were said to have Essence weaponry, which the Hadarak confirmed, but your skills are beyond such technology. How did you develop them?”

“I don’t feel like sharing,” Morgan said, beginning to pace so her increasing shakes wouldn’t show. “So what now? Are you going to attack me, call the Hadarak to do it, or something else?”

“Unfortunately we are your prisoners,” the spider-alien said. “The Hadarak transported us here, and you have taken away our means of leaving.”

“More than just neighbors then.”

“Our relationships are more complicated than you can understand.”

“We can discuss that later. Who threw the spikes?”

The aliens turned towards one in particular, ratting him out with startling apathy, as the bulbous quadruped retreated a step.

Morgan tried to reach into his mind, only to be blocked, then she pointed a finger at him. “That one was free. Next time you get hit back.”

The alien slumped with relief, but didn’t speak.

“I am translating for those who did not learn your language,” another said, this one an obvious shapeshifter that appeared to be floating mist going through numerous forms. “He will not strike you again.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Not long. This facility was only recently discovered by the Hadarak, but we have been in this galaxy observing you from lesser vantage points soon after your barrier wall stopped the Hadarak advance.”

“Did you come through the high mass gravity wells in galactic center?”

“Of course.”

“On Hadarak ships or your own?”

“Our own. But travel throughout the galaxy would expose us, so we allow our hosts to take us to the most interesting places.”

“Expose what?”

“Things you do not know or understand. If you did, you would have run away when you saw us.”

“That powerful, huh?” Morgan scoffed.

“More so,” another alien said, a biped similar to Morgan’s form, only larger. “I could have killed you if I wanted, but I chose not to. Be grateful.”

“I’m not in the grateful mood after what just happened,” she glared back at him through her helmet.

“You will not be attacked again,” the spider said forcefully. “We have decided as much. Killing you would mean we would never again leave this place if your fleet removes the Hadarak. Negotiation is our only logical course of action.”

“Then why didn’t you stop the others?”

“We have no right to do so.”

“Apathetic then?”

“Allowing each to do as they wish is the only path to peace at our level. You are not on our level and would not understand, though I do appreciate your situation in the war against the Hadarak and do not begrudge you your mindset. You have a right to defend yourself against them.”

“But you won’t stop them from murdering everyone in sight?”

“It is not our place. They do as they wish, we do as we wish, and avoid each other.”

“What is this chamber?” Morgan asked, still pacing and not wanting to show weakness in case they changed their minds about fighting.

“A place where we can view everything we wish,” the shapeshifter said. “We have been watching your battles in space with great interest. You seem to understand how to defeat the Hadarak. The question that remains is do you have the power to overcome a larger war of attrition.”

“That’s the plan,” she said, having enough of this. “You remain in this room. You answer questions we have. And we will drop you off in a neighboring Hadarak system assuming they’ll take you. I have no interest in keeping you prisoners long term.”

“That is more than gracious of you,” the spider said, clicking its face mandibles together. “We will not attempt to escape, though there are biological needs this chamber cannot fulfill for us. We have several prepared areas nearby that we will highlight for you and we will remain in them or here. Is that satisfactory?”

“Possibly. I need to confirm what they are and what they can do.”

“We shall stay here until your curiosity is met. In the meantime, you will want to retire and rest. Your body is overwhelmed with the stress of battle.”

“I’ve been through worse,” Morgan said, peeved that it was so visible. “Are any of them revivable?”

“Not with the wounds you inflicted,” the tall, frail one stated flatly.

“If you don’t interfere with each other, then don’t interfere with their bodies. They stay as they lay,” she said, looking at the spider.

“Agreed.”

“Can you tell the Hadarak to leave the facility?”

“They will not respond to our orders, only allow us access to their ships as if we were their own. We are otherwise invisible to them.”

“Why were they guarding the door?”

The spider pointed up, with Morgan looking to see a Hadarak growth on the very high ceiling wrapped around what looked like inverted skyscrapers.

“What is it?”

“One of their organizational units. It coordinates with others in the area, though its telepathic signals are being blocked by the facility. Those outside were couriers waiting to deliver messages.

“Is it surrendering as well?”

“No. But I believe it did send off a courier before you destroyed the rest. There may be more of them coming to reclaim this location.”

“And you’re just going to observe?”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful,” Morgan said, turning her back on them and heading for the doorway she’d cut. When she got outside and out of view she slumped against the wall, not wanting to think about how close she came to dying.

Morgan raised her left arm, and mentally ordered a tiny piece of her gauntlet to detach. It morphed into a little orb and shot off down the corridor the way she’d come with orders to retrace her steps and send a message to the V’kit’no’sat troops in the building. She needed a perimeter established near this area, but well away from these ‘observers’ who she had a feeling were some of the major powers that Azoro had warned Paul about.

And she’d just killed 27 of them in solo combat.

“Huh,” Morgan said, pleased with that part of the situation, but not her vulnerability against the others, some of whom she guessed might even more powerful by their Essence glows flares when she’d insulted them…though that wasn’t a strict way of measuring power, for it could be misleading on the low end.

Right now though, she was going to take them at their word and move on the other direction to see if reinforcements were coming. If they were she wanted to fight them far away of these potential backstabbers.

And if they weren’t coming, she still wanted to get away…at least until her limbs stopped shaking.

Morgan walked down the corridor and stepped over the minion pieces as she used her armor to review her battle, finding that her movement speed had indeed surpassed anything she’d ever approached before, in battle or training. Whatever she had done was new, and her body was absorbing the first training effect from it…meaning she was going to be very ‘sore’ in some way or another.

“Why did I have to come down here alone?” she groaned, keeping watch on the Essence signatures behind her until she got too far out of range to monitor the group who was so far keeping their word and staying put.

7

December 8, 154960

System 9923004 (Hadarak-Occupied Territory)

8th planet

Aaron-010 and Sara-012 came down to the surface in the same dropship, landing inside a newly carved cave that spiraled down to the top of the Maty and one of the now exposed entrances that had Star Force defenses built on top of it. They landed without incident and walked across the odd material it was constructed of getting vibes of something they couldn’t quite put their finger on as Morgan-063 emerged from the entrance to meet them.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Sara said as they met up, all wearing full armor in the less than hospitable atmosphere, as Morgan gave them both a telepathic update on their ‘guests.’

“We’ve still got Hadarak in some areas that we need to purge, but I don’t trust these ‘observers’ one bit. Some have Essence, others have abilities I’m still not sure how they work, but my dodging and defenses prevented them from killing me. I don’t know if I was just better than them or lucky, but I’m not risking fighting them alone twice.”

“We’ve got your back,” Aaron assured her. “What about the popsicles?”

“Haven’t had time to look into it…” she said, suddenly going stiff. “Did you guys get that?”

“Get what?” Sara asked.

“I just got another comm from the Maty on Star Force frequencies.”

“Another?”

“Right, sorry. Been so busy I haven’t had time to write in my diary,” Morgan said sarcastically. “I got called to assist in several particular fights. At first I thought it was the PanNari using the Maty’s systems, but later on realized it was something else. I just got another priority call to an area I haven’t been at yet.”

“Go,” Aaron said to both of them. “I can handle the interrogation better than you.”

“One isn’t enough,” Morgan said firmly.

“They know you’re here, and if they mess with me you come back and kill them, or the fleet does. The stupid ones died already. The others know their only hope of survival is to play nice. Trust me, I can handle it,” he said, referencing his formidable mental skills. “Go find out who’s talking to you. If there are more ‘observers’ here we need to locate them.”

“He’s right,” Sara said, “and you’re right. We need more of us down here.”

“The system isn’t secure yet,” Aaron pointed out, “and with your battle notes I have an idea of what these bastards can do. I’ll be fine,” he said, turning his faceplate transparent as well as a bit of his collar where he showed off an underlayer. “I brought backup.”

Sara’s jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

“It’s a friend,” he said of the Boos’mo. “We’ve worked together before.”

“Doesn’t that…stick?” Morgan said, cringing beneath her faceplate.

“Thought it would be better than wearing Petricite armor. So there are two of us. Go with her, Sara. I’m getting some very odd mojo from this place. There’s a lot more here than the observers. I’ll babysit them. Now go. Trust me.”

“What’s his name?” Sara asked.

“Jarvan.”

“Keep Jarvan hidden under shroud so they don’t know you have him.”

“I fooled you, didn’t I?”

“They’re skilled in Essence,” Morgan reminded him, getting the beckon from the Maty a second time. “I have to go.”

“Move,” Aaron said, pushing Sara telekinetically. “I’ll get the others down here as soon as I can.”

“Fine,” Sara said, with Morgan and her taking off running in tandem and disappearing below ground as Aaron took a more leisurely pace through the spherical shield covering the entrance.

He paused a moment when it was passing through him, then moved on, following the map Morgan had given them earlier through the facility until he got to the V’kit’no’sat perimeter line. The corridors were big enough to hold Era’tran, but most of the guards here were Rit’ko’sor and smaller with a few heavy hitters added plus Zen’zat.

Aaron passed through them and walked down the very empty hallways towards the area where the observers had promised to remain in. It comprised a small complex of habitats and the main observation room, along with connecting areas. And to their word, that’s where he sensed their Essence signatures.

His telepathy was being blocked by the walls, but some of the glows of Essence were startlingly bright. That meant a lot of Essence inside the body rather than a large body like a Uriti. The concentration told of the multiplier they had via training, but it also said how much was leaking out. A very calm Essence didn’t show as much, but when Aaron sent out a ping of his own it lit them all up much more, showing several with densities that he had only seen in Kara and the other Jinxes.

Maybe not quite that much, but still far higher than him. Morgan was right about these guys, though most of the signatures didn’t show anything more than normal Essence…meaning they were either very good at hiding it or they didn’t have Essence skills.

Aaron made his way to the observation room as a small Star Force collection drone was wrapping up one of the dead bodies in a transport pod. Beyond that he saw a few dozen of the observers monitoring the space battle outside along with a pair doing some other research at a terminal that had nothing to do with the players currently in the system.

“You are larger than the other,” one of them said in English as Aaron walked in and his other senses finally connected. He did a quick telepathic test to see who was susceptible to prying and who wasn’t, finding they all had some resistance, but a few weren’t good enough to keep his very subtle queries out.

“She’s the runt,” Aaron said, peeling back his helmet, but not so far as to show his neck. His armor bonded to it just under his chin seamlessly, but allowed the others to see his face and short white/orange hair that matched his Clan colors. “I’m the negotiator, or interrogator, if you prefer. Either way, I’m the one you want to talk to. What are you researching other than the current battles?”

“This facility has records going back before the Hadarak were here,” an amorphous black goo said, with ripples moving through its body to match its words. “We look for anything curious.”

“What have you found that warrants your long trip here?”

“The Hadarak kill the more advanced races periodically, so that none can rise to challenge them. But before they came there were many interesting ones. Extinct now, but documented by this facility, with some samples. The one you see displayed before you are not overly impressive, but they have a peculiar genetic code that baffles me. The Gahana were equally curious about it.”

“What’s unusual about it?” Aaron asked, walking towards that area of the room while giving the others a wide berth.

“It underwent a spontaneous change that radically altered their race to a level far superior to what they were before, with the mechanism of this change undocumented. The final form has some coding elements that do not make sense to me. Perhaps you could shed some light.”

“Perhaps, but right now you’re earning passage out of the system by supplying me with information,” he said, lightly knocking down the alien’s attempt at interrogating him.

“What do you wish to know?” the black goo asked, rising twice Aaron’s height before settling back down into a Zac-like facsimile of Aaron’s biped form, though still larger.

“For starters, I’d like to say that attacking my sister really pisses me off, and you’re lucky you didn’t succeed in killing her. Furthermore, your apathy towards the carnage the Hadarak inflict on multiple galaxies suggest you are not good people, so let’s start with some boundaries. Do you make any claim on territory in this galaxy…and the question is for you as a group.”

“We do not. Only the Hadarak have jurisdiction here.”

“Explain this jurisdiction.”

“This is one of their galaxies. They are not allowed to consume all of it, but they may groom the rest from time to time to prevent adversaries from arising.”

“Are any of your territories in galaxies where there are Hadarak?”

“A few, but they respect our boundaries.”

“Why?”

“It is the natural order that the strongest races coexist, so that we may attempt to live forever. The universe is tilted against this, and the facility in which we stand documents many impressive races that have risen then fallen, with most being reduced to ashes and memories. It is not a measure of how far you rise that defines a civilization, but how long one persists. We all respect this, and rather than trying to dominate one another we give each other space so that we may rise or fall on our own merits, and see who can outlast the universe’s never-ending carnage.”

“But the Hadarak are never-ending carnage.”

“As long as they do not interfere with us, we do not interfere with them.”

“So you abandon all other lesser races to their own fate?”

“We cannot abandon that which we did not lay claim to. The fate of others is not our responsibility.”

“Well, it is ours, for we have laid claim to the mantle of protectors. So if you intend on causing any mischief in this galaxy, you will end up becoming our enemy and we will intervene. Do you understand this basic principle?”

“It is a naïve one, for you expend resources you will need to survive other threats, but we understand it.”

“But you don’t respect it?”

“We have no need to respect or dislike you. As long as you remain in this galaxy you will not come into conflict with us. We need not be any more than acquaintances.”

“And if we go beyond this galaxy?”

“You will find other threats equal in magnitude to the Hadarak who do not wish their territories invaded by outsiders. I offer this as a friendly warning, not as provocation. There is a natural order in the universe that we seek to maintain. Those who conquer indiscriminately imbalance this. The Hadarak know and respect certain boundaries so they do not encroach on others, but they are free to operate in the balance as they wish so long as they do not totally claim a galaxy. Had we not implemented this…policy…your people would not have existed in order to rise against them. The natural order gives you a chance to rise, and if you are worthy you will overcome the Hadarak and lay claim to this galaxy. We will respect this claim, as well as the Hadarak’s right to invade you if they choose. The rest of us will not interfere in what is not our business.”

“But you do observe?”

“Knowing what is going on is not interference, and the Hadarak understand and accommodate us as we accommodate their observers.”

“So our fight here is your entertainment?”

“We seek to learn from the lesser, for occasionally they make discoveries that we have not.”

“So we’re the Hunger Games,” Aaron said, knowing he wouldn’t catch the reference.

“Starvation is not entertainment. It is a failure of basic civilization planning.”

“Hypothetically speaking, if we attacked one of your races would the others intervene or just observe?”

“If you attacked one of us who have been around for far longer than you can imagine, you would face powers that would snuff you out rapidly. The Hadarak are primitive compared to us, and make up that disparity with the strength of their swarms. They die rapidly, but their race lives on.”

“And their leaders?”

“Safely hidden where others cannot reach them.”

“Do they die, or are they immortal?”

“I do not know. I have never seen one in person. Their interactions are always through intermediaries, but their command structure remains fixed. In fact, we are still curious about some facets of their function. Even now we are trying to learn more of them as we watch them battle you.”

“And how far does a race have to rise to be included in your natural order elite?”

“You will know if you ever get there. Right now, as impressive as your resistance against the Hadarak is, there are many facets of the universe that you are completely unaware of. When you discover and master some more of those, you will be approaching peerdom of a minor level.”

“And when we do that, you and the Hadarak will leave us alone?”

“We will, but your history with the Hadarak means you have a preexisting relationship that you will have to work out with them.”

“We haven’t been able to talk to them.”

“Not surprising. Their armies are little more than living machines.”

“How can we talk to their leadership?”

“To do that you must be in the Galactic Core. Their intermediaries do not travel beyond it. And those that cannot reach the Core are deemed too unimportant to speak with.”

“Well that explains a lot,” Aaron said, putting his hands on his armored hips. “Are they continuing to spread to new galaxies?”

“Where there are no pre-existing ‘elites’ as you called us, yes they are.”

“How many ‘elite’ civilizations are there?”

“We do not know. The universe appears to be infinite. The farther we look, the more we discover. But like you, we can only travel so far so fast. Within our domain, for we are called the Mistark, we have met 319 races or civilizations that we consider to be ‘elite’ and many more just below this status. The universe is diverse, but repetitive. Anything truly new fascinates us, and there are many things we are finding recorded in the archives here that are fascinating.”

“What do you know of the builders?”

“They predate all of us, then they vanished to regions unknown when the central gravity wells exceeded a certain mass limit and began producing a radiation you probably are not capable of recording. It slowly destroyed their machine matrixes that were bonded with a Core, and they had to flee. We find this radiation in many of the larger galaxies, but oddly it is also in this one despite its mediocre size. That is one curiosity we have not been able to determine, though we only just arrived and have not had a chance to return to the Galactic Core and research this.”

“Are you familiar with the PanNari in this system?”

“Only as of recently.”

“Why aren’t they affected by this radiation?”

“They are machines, but they are not the same type of machines. Those who built this place would have been elites amongst us, for they are advanced even beyond our understanding. Learning more about their civilization is one reason we wish to leave an emissary here if you will allow us.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t attacked my sister we would have. But since you did, we’re going to politely part ways as soon as the fighting in this system is over. Do you need us to drop you in a particular Hadarak system? And by the way, how do you travel in their ships when they don’t have internal space for crew?”

“We make it.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “And the Hadarak allow this?”

“They have been so programmed. Bring us to any of their vessels capable of interstellar travel and we will be able to see our own way from there. Preferably one of their faster vessels and not one the size of a moon.”

“Will it take you long to pack?”

“We can deconstruct our holdings here easily. Do you intend to remove us quickly or keep us around for questioning?”

“Show us what you have learned of this place, give us some basic information on your own civilizations and where they reside, and I think we’ll be content with kicking you out.”

“As you wish. Which would you like to learn of first?”

8

Morgan and Sara ran through two clusters of Hadarak minions and lots of empty corridors, side tunnels, and one long climb up a ladder network that occurred lightning fast when they simply flew where others could not. Eventually they came to the location the Maty had instructed Morgan to come to, finding a small room with an open pool of water in it.

“Aquatic section?” Sara asked as they stopped on the rim and scanned down inside.

“It’s deep and I’m sensing Hadarak. Anything else we’ll have to figure out on the way.”

“Last time you got one of these missions, there was a lot of resistance, right?”

“Yep,” Morgan said, hopping off the edge and disappearing into the water feet first.

“Lovely,” Sara said, following her and sinking down below the entry floor through a short shaft that eventually opened up the sensor jamming of the walls so they could see a massive lake with facets in all directions, making its shape impossible to determine, but the central area was clear except for some pods rising up on thin strands, making for buildings in what looked like an underwater city.

An underwater city with Hadarak growths all over and in between the structures rising out of the walls, floor, and ceiling.

“Are we being used as the cleaning crew?” Sara asked, not fond of killing the living structures.

“There’s something else going on, but I haven’t been able to track it down yet. I think those pods might contain more people in stasis, and the Hadarak may be jeopardizing them.”

“And the automated systems picked you to deal with it?”

“I don’t think it’s automated,” Morgan said, jetting off superman style towards the cluster of minions rising off the leftward wall and swimming towards her.

“I’ve got the right side. Meet you at the other end,” Sara said, angling away as they got to work killing enemies that had no chance against them, though the water combat made it a slower process.

Sara used her death sabers to cut away a tentacle-like Hadarak growth two meters thick that was wrapped around the base of one of the spires coming down from the ceiling, with the water fizzing as energy bled off against it and made a cascade of bubbles that rose upward as the spine of the growth cracked and the bottom half began to unravel. The trailblazer extinguished her blades and latched on to the upper part, then began swimming in a circular path around the spire to unwrap the upper section until it too fell away, leaving the fluted spire untouched, for some reason the growths hadn’t gone into the numerous holes within it.

“Bored yet?” Sara asked over comms to Morgan, who was doing much the same on the other side of the lake.

“I don’t get it,” she complained. “There has got to be something special about these spots, but all we have are popsicles that the Hadarak never touched.”

“Were they trying and unable to get through?”

“I don’t know what they were doing. That brainbox in the command center…”

“…was gross as hell…”

“Agreed, but at least it was coordinating the others. I have no idea why they set up camp everywhere else except the interface terminals. They don’t appear to be doing anything.”

“Maybe they’re starter units for something bigger. Most of them aren’t in the Hadarak playbook that we’ve seen before.”

“All we’ve seen is the combat version plus a little distance learning from Kara. We’ve never actually been on a Hadarak planet. Could that thing have been one of their leaders?”

“It did suicide when we tried to interrogate it.”

“And how many Hadarak do that?”

“Plenty, if they can do damage with their death, but I’ve never known their structures to just melt when we get close. Are you sure it died on its own?” Sara asked.

“You mean did the observers kill it? Not that I could detect.”

“What if they lied?”

“You mean it wasn’t there for the purpose they said it was?”

“Maybe it was there to help them and they didn’t want us to see what they were actually doing with it? Maybe all they had to do was give an order and it suicided?”

“Possible. And why doesn’t the Maty have drones to do this cleaning?” Morgan complained as she spilled more gore into the water as she pulled off a net-like webbing stretched between two of the spires with globs of tissue on either side that had to be scraped off, for they were adhering to the building material like glue.

“Maybe they’re still trying to lock down the entrances. Why is it only contacting you?”

“No clue. But it has to be narrow beaming the signal or you’d pick it up too.”

“It wasn’t telepathy?”

“Nope. I still have the comm scans to prove it.”

“Are we going to do this all day?” Sara complained, starting to cut through another of the icky tree/snake things that didn’t seem capable of moving to defend itself, but it was still very much alive and Sara had to make sure her telepathy was off so she didn’t hear its death screams. “We have no means to get rid of this stuff anyway.”

Morgan stopped cutting and swam up into the clearer waters where she could see Sara in the distance.

“You’re right. All the combat versions are dead, and unless they get reinforcements they won’t have the biomatter to grow any larger even if they cannibalize what’s here. If the Maty wants to clean the gore out they can send their janitor bots. Let’s head out.”

“Right behind you,” Sara said, zooming across the lake but still at some distance from Morgan as the Ninja Monkey got another comm from the Maty.

“Hold up. It’s talking to me again. Says to come to another location.”

“Is it monitoring our conversation?”

“Maybe. The location is in this chamber,” Morgan said, trying to manually input the location into her battlemap and relay it to Sara. “On the other side of you.”

“Well get over here. You’re its favorite,” Sara said, waiting until Morgan jetted over to her then they swam in tandem to a specific spire on the floor, only to find the location wasn’t in it, but between it and another one. The location was nothing but blank panel covered in tiny hexagons like most of the Maty’s internal structures, but they were so thin they were virtually invisible unless you touched them with your bare hand and felt the slight grip they offered.

“We’re here?” Morgan transmitted back on the same frequency. “Now what?”

No response came, but the floor silently melted and sank down revealing a shaft lined with lights that began to pulsate in the direction away from them.

“Garbage chute?” Sara warned.

“I’m going to find out. You can stay here and monitor.”

“If it closes up we’ll lose comms, so no, I’m coming with you.”

“Alright,” Morgan said, tipping over and swimming in headfirst into the 3 meter wide shaft as Sara kept up on her heels…then once both were inside the floor sealed back over the tunnel behind them.

“Secret room?” Sara suggested.

“Hopefully with answers,” Morgan said as they swam down and around a slight curve, then through a spiral that ended in another floor that opened before them into a large, empty chamber with nothing but water in it.

“Well…”

“Give it a second,” Morgan urged as she swam out into the middle, only to be contacted by a telepathic presence below her.

It didn’t speak, but merely warned to stay back, with Morgan swimming upward with Sara towards the domed ceiling that had no air pockets in it or visible tunnels, though hidden ones could be anywhere.

The floor far beneath them melted away rapidly, revealing a second thinner chamber below bathed in light from numerous sources, but in the middle of it all was a glob of chrome that began to extend a tentacle upward towards them, then that tentacle stopped and began to swell as material from below was transferred up it in waves.

“Shapeshifter,” Sara commented as the thing eventually mimicked the Human body, but without any subtlety to it. No eyes, nose, ears, fingernails. Just a basic biped looking like it was made out of Morgan’s silhouette rather than her holo…but she could clearly feel its pain.

Transition us into the Essence realm, it said into Morgan’s mind clearly, so we can speak. I cannot remain here if you do not.

“It wants to go into the Essence realm. Needs to.”

“Is this…”

“Help me,” Morgan asked, extending a battlemeld link to Sara. She accepted and their minds merged into one as they coordinated with each other to create a bubble around both of them and the three story tall biped before them as well as the water in between…but one tethered to the surrounding walls in an advanced technique that would lock them in place within the room despite the spin of the planet that would otherwise see them float away in the Essence realm where gravity had no effect.

As soon as they popped into the other realm Morgan felt the biped relax in a massive relief…only to see it transform before them into a much more defined shape, one with boxy features that did not resemble the Humans, though the basic dimensions were similar. The head morphed into four glowing eyes with a bifurcated plate beneath them like a football helmet mask, then it raised a hand and pointed one of four fingers at Morgan.

“You must take possession of the Maty,” it said audibly through the water as well as a comm transmission matching its words and cadence.

“Explain,” Morgan said simply rather than getting snippy, because she knew they had a limited time to talk before they had to release the Essence bubble, and pushing back the water that now filled the empty space they had left was going to take far more effort than leaving.

“The Hadarak do not seek knowledge. They pervert the purpose of the Maty and I cannot override their actions. They endanger those preserved here. They silence our eyes to use them to surveil you. They seek to digest and assimilate the Maty into their biomass, but they do not know how. The answer lies in the knowledge here, but they have not found it yet. You must take possession before they do, or this galaxy’s legacy will be lost.”

“What are you?”

“I am Gahana. This galaxy is toxic to me, but I have remained in a limited state as caretaker along with a few others. We remain dormant in a shielded fashion, but our abilities are compromised. If we assert ourselves we become vulnerable to the toxicity. If we emerge to defend the Maty we die. If we remain concealed and the Hadarak consume the Maty, we die. The toxicity has risen greatly since we were entombed here. Escape is no longer possible.”

“What is this toxicity?”

“A weapon that poisons the lifeforce of the galaxy. One that is uniquely dangerous to our mechanical physiology. Your biology is unaffected, but we were spawned from the lifesprings in a different form. And with a purpose. We are to counter the chaos and carnage, for it is not meant to be this way. Something is wrong with the universe, and we are meant to fight that wrong. We never discovered what or why, but have done what we can to mitigate the damage as we sought to learn more and expand our influence beyond our spawning point and shield the lesser kin that we discovered. Kin that knew nothing of a mission, and were consumed by confusion and base instincts. They are victims of an unknown perpetrator, and while we could not save them, we devoted ourselves to eliminating the greatest of the threats to them in order to allow them a chance to win the smaller battles that we could not catalog.”

“By cataloging you mean observing and documenting?” Sara interrupted.

“We have done this so they could learn from others’ past mistakes, not from a point of apathy. We cannot be everywhere at once, nor can we make people better. They must be allowed to grow, and growth requires conflict for them. But not for us. Our growth is natural and predetermined, limited only by our merits to unlock it. In a lesser way you have discovered a similarity with your training knowledge. This is something no other race has explored as deeply, and our files on you have taken priority in gathering. My ability to study them has been limited, but not completely blocked. You are stumbling upon a mission not inherent in your race, but you are drawn to it where we were born to one. You are brothers to us in some fashion I would like to explore but cannot. I do not know you, yet I know aspects of you better than you probably know yourself. For this reason, and our imminent doom, I am asking that you take possession of Maty. Protect it and use it. The lessons of so many from the past are stored here. Learn from them. Do not repeat their mistakes.”

“Why are you still here?” Morgan asked.

“Our analogs are not intelligent enough to operate independently forever. They require occasional direction. Some of had to stay to deal with the unpredictable. The future of this galaxy depends on it.”

“This galaxy is being consumed by the Hadarak.”

“That was not foreseen. They did not exist when the toxicity came. They were constructed since our time.”

“Constructed by what?” Morgan demanded.

“Those that nearly killed you. They lied about their origin. They created the Hadarak. The Hadarak serve them. I do not know why or where, but I know how. They are interacting with them as master. The biological coding and control is obvious when you have access to their neural net, and I do since they are hacking the Maty. They came here because of the secrets being discovered, and are orchestrating the assimilation. Now they seek to escape you before you learn the truth.”

“We were told the Hadarak originated from large beings inhabiting the gravity wells at the center of many galaxies,” Sara noted.

“Conscripted most likely. Our probes patrol the voids in the galaxy, but are limited in ability to monitor within the stellar masses. We do not have information cataloged on their spawn points, but the Hadarak genetic coding is consistent with such high energy environments. Throughout it is a command pathway being utilized by those you now hold prisoner. The odds of them finding and utilizing it are slim. There is a 99.9999824% probability that they created it.”

“What are they trying to absorb?” Morgan asked. “Why not just download the data?”

“The Maty is more than data. A great deal more. They have discovered a small facet of it. They do not know the greater significance. You must keep them from it. They will use it to enhance the chaos, not reduce it.”

“Did they cause the toxicity?” Sara asked.

“It is beyond their comprehension. We do not know who created it, but it is the work of an unseen enemy. It is not random or natural.”

“The PanNari said it was.”

“They are trying to grasp knowledge far beyond them and are interpreting it in the best way they can manage. Inaccuracy is to be expected. Records are not kept in multi-linguistics. You must learn our language to access the rest. I am speaking to you in yours because there is no time. You must safeguard our work, for it is for one of you that we built this place and have done all that we have. We have long hoped to find someone who has a sense of mission as we do. We have tried so long and so hard to find even the smallest inkling of it in another, but we have failed and acted as protectors in the interim. If we were ever to find another, the knowledge we have gathered is for you. To help you grow and discover if your mission is identical to ours or separate. And by helping you we may also learn more about our own. After all this time we had nearly given up hope, and now, on the edge of our deaths and failure to preserve this galaxy’s legacy, you arrive. Better late than never.”

Morgan smiled inside her helmet, having to focus to maintain the Essence bubble. “Where did the other Gahana go?”

“They were to run as far as they had to in order to escape the toxicity. I know initial exit vectors, but not a final destination. They cannot return now, even briefly, for it is far worse.”

“What is producing it?”

“We cannot find the source with our probes, and the nearer we get the greater the toxicity becomes. It shields itself in this manner and we are helpless to act personally. Our analogs have not succeeded in our stead. You are growing tired and must return us soon.”

“Nah, we’re just getting warmed up,” Sara said, drawing some Essence out of her Magicite to reinforce the bubble. “Keep talking…”

9

“What the fuck…” Morgan said, her jaw dropping as small beads of sweat rolled down her face as she and Sara continued to hold the Essence bubble longer than they normally would have. “You’re saying our Gamerscore affects the universe?”

“Games are a limited, but useful analogy,” the Gahana said flatly. “To address it such, our core mission is to tilt the alignment of the universe away from chaos and carnage. We do not understand why, but it is built into us the same way your genetic instincts are in you, though those are only basic survival programming…and that programming alters with each new spawn of the lifesprings based on those that have come before. If carnage has become dominant in the local region, then new races will start out with more carnage built into their instincts, and their bodies will be tailored toward those ends. Poison, fangs, life drainers…all of these are biological adaptations made by the lifesprings when the indigenous races and individuals become and employ such qualities. Thus the actions you take in life will add with others to tailor the starting equipment and tendencies of future spawned races.”

“And you’re here to make sure they end up as what?” Sara asked.

“We do not understand the end goal of our mission. Only the current priorities that compel us to act. We do not know why we are here without a full explanation, so we do what we can as we search for answers. No others that we have found have a mission encoded into their instincts. None at all. You appear to be developing one as individuals, and this is the first we have encountered this facet. In order to explore it further this facility and the other three in this galaxy must be protected from the Hadarak. Though we do not think they understand the tilt mechanism within the universe, their actions are predicated on destroying our work. Future races will be so inundated in what you call the darkside that only a very strong individual will be able to break free to chart another course, and in the case of the Hadarak, such an individual cannot exist. Defiance would have them killed before they could grow to the point of self-determination.”

“What happens if that wins out?”

“We have seen similar things happen before, and those that control the controlled eventually turn on each other causing a cataclysmic downfall of the system. Nearly all perish, and those that survive regroup in ways that allow more individual freedom and exploration. Or they all perish and are replaced by the lifesprings with a different tilt. It is not a binary choice, for there are many variables in play and we have not been able to chart them all. But for races such as the Hadarak, they destroy all that we are tasked with defending and cultivating, and futures spawns…whether through the lifesprings or regular births…pay the price for it.”

“How local is the effect?” Morgan asked.

“Often within one system, though we have seen larger effects. We have not been able to distill it down to mathematics, but it appears the more deeply you go in any direction, the larger a footprint you create.”

“Does this affect births?”

“The natural change in the genetics accomplish this on its own. Those are far easier to quantify. The lifesprings are beyond our ability to effectively measure.”

“Have you ever observed them?”

“On occasion we have predicted their occurrence and recorded it, though luck was a factor and we cannot reliably replicate the observation.”

“And you do this without Essence abilities?”

“Essence abilities would respond to the occurrence, not predict it…at least as far as we have learned from others. There is a structure to the universe. A complex structure that we are still grasping to derive, but what gains we have made give us some predictive ability.”

“And what happens when you create pockets of peace?” Sara asked.

“Change occurs based on it. If it comes in the wake of contestation, it has a positive effect. But let it linger and the changes that occur…”

“…are pacifism,” Morgan guessed.

“Sedation and stagnation as well. Those new races spawned by the lifesprings are progressively weaker and less inclined to defend themselves. If we do not protect them, they become prey. Only by limiting our assistance do they remain strong enough to promote healthy growth, though this means many individuals must be allowed to suffer and die as each race learns from failure…or embraces it.”

“You can’t fight their battles for them,” Sara summed up.

“Indeed. That was a lesson that we did not learn for some time. Withholding assistance appeared to go against our mission, and it wasn’t until we grew wiser in the understanding of our mission did certain nuances become visible. Your lightside philosophy is concurrent with our mission as we currently understand it, but it is incomplete.”

“No end game?” Morgan asked.

“Nor do we understand ours. You have created your own mission, so I will ask you the purpose of it. Why do you do what you do?”

“We feel a call,” Morgan said, revealing the contents of several private conversations the trailblazers had previously had over their history. “We can’t define it, but every now and then we feel it. There is something out there, something to reach for, to fight for, and if we don’t keep moving, stay in action, we lose our limited connection to it. The lightside is what we do to help fight the wrongs that are visible. What is on the periphery of our senses can’t be defined in philosophy. It has to be felt. The real lightside has to be felt, not logically analyzed. Though such analysis has helped others who cannot actively feel it.”

“Such as the living machines that came here before you?”

“They’re one example, but not at the top of my list.”

“You are dragging them and others towards your alignment in life, and the genetic code of new generations is altering towards it, as well as the lifesprings that you do not see. It does not happen fast, and you are new to this galaxy, but for those of us old enough to chart the passage of time in the long form, we see the alterations. Every action appears to have an effect, though the death appears to hold extra significance.”

“How do you know?”

“The biggest alterations appear to be in response to the method of death, and to provide a greater resistance to it. Those who die in combat see lifesprings form stronger races. Those who die from disease, stronger internal defenses, plants holding imbued medicines. Stagnation promotes a desire to act, in what you would call boredom. The greatest tilt is centered around death.”

“And when the Hadarak die so easily and often?”

“It is not one dimensional. Though they die, they are replaced with more. So as a race they are persisting. The universe sees this as advantage, and the swarm techniques rise in prominence.”

“So the tilt is not calibrated to the individual?”

“Where we see long lived individuals, we see a tilt towards individual resilience. Future generations start with, per your gaming metaphor, the starting equipment crafted by those who preceded them, whether that be their bloodline, race, or regional neighbors via the lifesprings.”

“Have you detected any purpose in the game of life itself?”

“Trends only. But it appears clear that the universe is experimenting and adapting.”

“And torturing us to get its data?” Sara complained.

“It is cruel, but there is an undercurrent of caring. It spawned us, and we are not here to harm. We are here to protect and uplift. We do not understand the multifaceted universe, but we are here and we intend to carry out our mission. It is our core reason for existence.”

“And everyone else?”

“They appear to have no reason for existence, and aside from basic instincts they mimic those around them.”

“Not entirely,” Morgan contradicted. “There is a desire for exploration there.”

“Yes, but this manifests in the individual, not the race, until the individuals trigger enough adaption to encode it into their race or tilt future spawnings.”

“Bottom line is, the lifesprings are not purely random?”

“Correct.”

“How many others know of this?”

“We do not share this knowledge with others, and I only share it with you now because you also are pursuing a mission. But there are those, such as the Hadarak, that are pursuing the inverse. It may not be calculated, but the end result is the same.”

“Chaos and carnage?” Sara asked, also sweating heavily as the strain of controlling the bubble was greater than powering it.

“In the darkest of places, life becomes so warped that destroying them may be a mercy.”

“Worse than the Hadarak?”

“Far worse, unfortunately. We have records of such encounters, but they are restricted, for they have driven many who view them insane as they are unable to comprehend such depravity.”

“What do you know about the apocalypse monsters?”

“I know of what you reference, for we have made extensive analysis of your public knowledge databases. They are not what you were told, but they mirror it. They come to galaxies that are brimming with life, and then harvest that life before retreating back into the gaps between the galaxies.”

“Where there are points where mass is formed?”

“They gather there and elsewhere. The ‘void’ as you call it is not a void, and there are many who exist out there. We do not know the name of those you call apocalypse monsters, and our information on them is limited, but we have recorded them harvesting this galaxy 29 times, but never in full. They come in, clean out a chunk of it, and then return. Sometimes individually, sometimes in groups. They do the same in other galaxies, though the Maty doesn’t carry that data. It only concerns this galaxy, and primarily the reconnaissance from this section of it. The other three do likewise, then share at various points to update, making each a repository of knowledge for the galaxy as a whole. Yet the harvesting the apocalypse monsters do is not something that we have been able to fully understand, but we have reason to believe it involves the collection of the Cores of those who they destroy.”

“Soul reavers?”

“Other races do this in various ways, though not when we looked after this galaxy. What the apocalypse monsters do is different, and it empowers them. Essence is involved, but it is not the Essence that is being harvested. At least not solely. This we have been told by those who can view such things, though we cannot confirm it.”

“Are there other Essence users in this galaxy?”

“The Hadarak have destroyed most of them, but some remain.”

“What do you know of an energy field created by all biological lifeforms, with and without a Core?” Morgan asked.

“It is one of three such energies the universe uses to connect life, so that those of similar nature can find and communicate with each other. The one you speak of is known to us as the Tri’to. The others are the Tri’se and the Tri’vey. Our race is part of the Tri’vey, and your allies here are lightly tapping into it. Those that achieve the breakthrough are melded with their machinery. Those who fail die in the attempt, but they are far from mastering it, and suffer from the lack of it. It is not their natural state.”

“Suffer how?”

“It harmonizes the person with their body. When in sync the energy is produced and spread forth, making it easier for others around them to exist. The deeper the field, the more benefit, though the effects are subtle. The same is true of your biological energy, which your allies also use. This leaves them conflicted, and the internal strife causes many problems that prevent true growth. They need to choose a path and fully commit to it.”

“They wish to become fully technological.”

“That is the harder path, for it was not the one they were spawned into.”

“What’s the Tri’se?” Sara asked.

“A type of body that exists in the dark of the universe. The Tri’to and Tri’vey use photonic energy as their lifeblood, though in different forms. The Tri’se use locked photon structures that unbound photonic energy will destabilize and destroy. Because of this starlight is toxic to them, and they must remain far from it, but they have built ships that can carry them here, and we have had contact with several in this galaxy, though they do not inhabit it.”

“And they produce Tri’se?”

“Yes. For some reason we can perceive it, as well as the Tri’to. We think it might be so we can track down and locate those who we need to protect and uplift. Your public information does not mention knowledge of the Tri’to. How do you know of it?”

“We met someone who did. Does the radiation that kills your race have anything to do with these three energies?”

“Yes. It is a toxic form of the Tri’vey. It rips apart our harmony with our bodies, and if we persist in it too long our Cores will be cleaved from it and we will die.”

“So it’s a machine race producing it?”

“We do not know the source, nor do we know the method it is produced. We just know we must run from it.”

“And it peels the protection away from every galaxy that you had previously uplifted?”

“Indeed it has. It is speculated that when the universe spawned us, it may also have spawned a nemesis that seeks to increase chaos and carnage, though we do not understand how killing all those linked to the Tri’vey would accomplish this.”

“Wait, how are the PanNari alive if they’re linked to it? The ones that have made the transition?”

“They are still melded to the Tri’to, and only through the Tri’to can they reproduce. Any new reproduction into the Tri’vey alone would be killed instantly. This is why they will never achieve the ability to reproduce as machines alone in this galaxy.”

“Were there other machine races before the radiation began?”

“Not like us. None spawned as machines, but there were many who sought to become like us. And many who sought to become machines for other reasons. Those few that succeeded were wiped out when we were forced to flee. We had no time to try and save them, except for a few kept here in stasis like many other promising races that we preserved when they were on the verge of extinction.”

“Promising?” Morgan said, finding the strain getting a bit too intense.

“You would call them lightside inclined. The Maty is a storehouse for them so we could rebuild their races in the distant future once we solved various riddles of the universe. We did not succeed before the evacuation, so they wait here.”

“What riddles?” Sara said, communicating with Morgan through the battlemeld that they were just about out of time.

“All their races, their empires, came to a point of collapse. They cannot rebuild as they are without suffering that same collapse.”

“External or internal?”

“Each had their own issues that we could not solve for them. Rather than letting them be wiped from the universe, we preserved some in order to protect what they had accomplished. We did not feel right letting the brightest lights in the galaxy be eliminated by the perpetual attrition that the universe operates on, and that we are immune to. We are built to live forever. That is our default. Yours is not.”

“We can’t hold the bubble much longer,” Morgan warned.

“I know. Do not try again for another 6 of your years with me, or I will take too much damage. Though the others here you may speak with once under similar arrangements, though be quicker about it now that you have knowledge of it. Please protect the Maty and the other repositories of this galaxy’s legacy from the Hadarak. They are a force of chaos that will only be strengthened by our knowledge. Deny it to them, and use what you learn here to cast them out of this galaxy. You have the strength, but be warned, they are far more powerful than they have revealed to you. Essence is their weakness, and the Uriti yours. Protect them, and they will enable you to become the protectors of this galaxy in our stead. Return us now."

Morgan and Sara didn’t argue, holding onto the Essence markers in the normal realm as they released the Essence bubble while pressing out on the markers to clear the water out of their reentry volume…else the molecules of two masses would overlap and intertwine, killing them all…or at least the two Furyans.

With a pop of pressure they returned, seeing the shock wave bounce off the walls and slam back into them before they could react. Both were thrown around in the water as the Gahana seemed unphased and retreated back into his self-made sarcophagus, sealing himself inside as he lost his shape and returned to his low powered form with the shielding blocking enough of the bad Tri’vey from getting to him that he could survive from his passive outflow.

Morgan used her Lachka to steady the waters as she simultaneously flew through them to remain in relatively the same position against the currents while Sara was a bit more direct and used her Ubven to lock down an area around her for a few moments.

“Holy shit,” the blonde said, looking down at the simple flooring that held the Gahana below with no indication of anything special contained beneath.

“This is heavy,” Morgan said, finally getting the water under her control. “But at least now we have a better idea what’s going on large scale. And our fight against the darkside is being more effective than we ever thought.”

“Avatar bonuses,” Sara agreed. “And it sounds like everyone else that got as far as we did ended up toast.”

“Yeah, but we just got the keys to the castle because we got farther on the mission front.”

“Or because they’re desperate to get rid of the Hadarak before they wreck everything here.”

“The observers go now.”

“Totally,” Sara agreed as they began to swim off using their armor jets and Yen’mer to get back to Aaron as fast as possible. After they were gone, and the possibility of them eavesdropping was eliminated, then they’d fill in the others.

And there was no way in hell they were going to abandon this system now. It and the others, wherever they were, had just become the Alamo.

And apparently an Alamo filled with lightside popsicles.

10

December 9, 154960

System 9923004 (Hadarak-Occupied Territory)

8th planet

The spider-like alien was escorted through the Maty along with all the other ‘observers’ to one of the entrances only to see daylight inside a massive chasm that had been cored all the way to the planet’s surface above them, and from his thermal glands he could tell the surrounding rock walls were still hot from cutting. But standing before them was some sort of cargo container, and the string of Star Force trailblazers escorting them out indicated that they should get inside.

Nuvo did as instructed, feigning submission for he knew it was their only chance of survival. The others had acted stupidly and jeopardized all of their lives, but fortunately Star Force was not as bloodthirsty as most, and they had agreed to let them go…or so they said. Walking into this box ahead of them might be a death trap of some sort, but it was the only play he and the surviving expedition members had to get out of this system alive.

When all were inside it was sealed up, and the assorted aliens sat down on the various chairs and floor as they waited with no windows or sensors to view what was happening outside…but that didn’t mean they couldn’t see with their various abilities, and not long after they were inside a ship came and picked up the cargo canister and flew it up into orbit.

They didn’t feel the movement, and not long after they arrived the door opened to reveal some of the trailblazers had come with them and were explaining they would have to stay here and the nearby habitat pods until they reached the nearest star system, with food and accommodations being provided inside the hangar bay in a hurried manner…for they were not allowed to go anywhere else on the ship.

Nuvo did not object, nor did the others, and over the next 2 days they traveled across the warzone, left the system, and arrived in another where the Hadarak also controlled the planets.

Without knowing what their reaction was to the appearance of the Star Force warship, Nuvo and the others were ordered back into the cargo canister, then another smaller ship landed them on one of the planets’ surfaces and marooned them there along with a second cargo crate filled with supplies.

“I cannot believe they let us go,” the Mistark said in the diplomatic language as its black goo of a body shifted shape many times in a gesture of glee.

“They are ignorant and idealistic,” Nuvo explained as he began picking up Hadarak telepathic signals. “But we were fortunate they did not seek vengeance.”

“Or understand what we truly are,” another added.

“They will never know,” Nuvo said flatly. “They are more powerful than we thought. One warrior killed half of us with minimal Essence abilities. No one should be allowed that kind of power.”

“I could have taken it,” the large biped said.

“By yourself?” Nuvo challenged. “I think not. As a group we all could have, but we would not have escaped with our lives. We cannot allow Star Force to continue to grow, or they may end up becoming a threat to us all.”

“You overestimate the danger,” the bulbous alien that Morgan had spared said.

“Why did your spikes not hit her?”

“She did not use Essence to block them.”

“It was telekinesis,” another said.

“And you assumed she would use Essence?” Nuvo challenged.

“I cannot configure them to counter everything. I chose wrong.”

“I will not choose wrong. We must nip this uprising in the bud before they can threaten us.”

“They are confined to a single galaxy, Nuvo,” another smaller biped argued.

“They will expand. Or do you see them limiting themselves to this one if they somehow manage to overtake the Hadarak?”

“What they want is irrelevant. They are confined here. Let us learn continue to learn from them.”

“I agree with Nuvo,” a rock-like snake said as it suddenly became bioluminous. “Their warrior killed us easily. They represent a threat now baffled by distance alone. They must be eradicated before they can grow strong and discover our worlds.”

“We gave them erroneous information,” the spikey one said.

“How long do you wish to wait before destroying them?” Nuvo challenged.

“Do we need to?”

“You are alive because their warrior had mercy on you. Do not let your false bravado now interfere with your judgement.”

“They do not upset the natural order now, but they will,” a small alien said, but when it spoke everyone immediately fell silent and listened. “Nuvo is correct. They may not be a threat to our races now, but the power shown to us firsthand is greater than any of us expected from them. I do not care for the deaths of the others, but I care that any of us were put in a position to die against an inferior race. The legions of Hadarak could not protect us from them. They fought through them to get to us. We did not err in our judgement or leave ourselves vulnerable. If we let this war draw out, Star Force may grow in strength over the duration, and their elite warriors are already too powerful to allow. We must unleash the Hadarak against them and end this threat before it can blossom further.”

“Does anyone disagree?” Nuvo challenged, doubting anyone would after the Keefa had spoken.

“It may be premature,” the Mistark said, “but we lose nothing by acting early out of caution. How long should we wait here?”

“Until they leave,” Nuvo said, glancing up into the sky and seeing the faint silhouette of their warship in orbit.

“There is no need,” the Keefa said, sending a telepathic beacon to the nearest Hadarak minions. “They know we travel with them. Nothing will be revealed by our moving now, but our reluctance to do so may draw suspicion.”

“I concede the point,” Nuvo said, with the group only having to wait a few hours before minions large enough to carry them individually arrived and flew them each to nearby colonies on the planet. When they got there pods were already being flash grown to carry them up to orbit, and soon they arrived at a 219 mile wide Warden, with the one of the massive tentacles it carried retracting inside further than normal to expose a patch of tissue beneath the armor layer.

The cluster of pods carrying all the observers touched there and melded to the solid mass…then using technology far beyond the Hadarak they build corridors into it at a magically fast pace, cutting away at the living tissue and reusing it to build what living facilities they needed while Nuvo took on a different project.

He ordered the Warden to construct something far larger inside its mass, hidden from sensors and having to cannibalize other parts of itself to make room and to construct the mechanism. Several days later when it was completed, Nuvo interfaced with the Essence comm device and sent a signal back to the Core of the galaxy…one that would arrive far faster than any known Hadarak transmission method, and one that would be picked up by the perimeter defense grids and retransmitted to those who needed to hear it.

“We must eradicate the resistance in this galaxy now. Threat level is beyond expectation. Our assessment is that we are dealing with a Vikova paradox. Full measures are recommended to prevent it from coming to fruition. Unleash the Hadarak and end this blight before it grows into a greater threat…”

Paul was still onboard the Excalibur fighting Hadarak in the system as more continued to pour in the jumplines and get ambushed by the fleets waiting for them in most cases when he received the comm update from the Maty where most of the trailblazers had gone. He was on one of his Jason-mandated rest breaks when it came through, so he had no distractions as he stopped his training swim and interfaced with a nearby terminal just above the waterline as he pulled himself out and telekinetically shook off the water droplets.

He’d received the mental summons of a message, expecting some sort of trouble, but found it was from Morgan detailing what had been going on down on the planet, and that she hadn’t wanted to send a message before the observers had left.

It was then that Paul was informed what the ‘observers’ said they were, and what they actually were, along with everything else that had been going on down there, including her fight with them.

“Azoro?” he asked aloud, feeling the presence of his companion return with force to his mind. “What do you know of this?”

“Little. I recognize only two of those races, and they were thought to be benign. If this group truly is the master of the Hadarak, they hid it from us well.”

“Are these the major powers you spoke of?”

“Not the ones I knew of, but perhaps the shadow presence behind our destruction. I cannot verify much of what they said, but you were right to send them away rather than kill them all.”

“We wouldn’t do that.”

“Others would. And your letting them go signals that you do not know who they truly are, which further cloaks the presence of the Gahana.”

“What do you make of them?”

“An enigma that we may have brushed paths with in the past, but only in the posthumous form.”

“Meaning?”

“We discovered certain similarities between galaxies that we could not explain. If they had a common benefactor in the past, it would explain the correlations…or perhaps some of them.”

“Recommendations?”

“Study and learn, but do not act. Keep those in stasis where they are until we know their true nature, and the reason they could not sustain themselves. I am as curious as you, but proceed slowly.”

“Remember who you’re talking to.”

“That’s why I say it.”

“They know of the Saiolum.”

“Interesting, but they cannot touch it. The other two energies they spoke of I am unfamiliar with.”

“Anything you can share?”

“Morgan killed many of them in single combat. How do you expect they will react now that they are free?”

“The Gahana said they were stronger than they had showed,” Paul said grimly. “We’re not doing well to keep a low profile, are we?”

“The Universe does not always give us the path we wish, and if the major powers I am aware of hear of this and come here…then it is a fight I will help you make. However, they may not want to reveal their own lack of power to others, else it invite predation upon them. I think the primary opponent will be the Hadarak, and they will try to snuff you out and erase their embarrassment.”

“What makes you think that?”

“When the other trailblazers were being recalled and you were inundated with the repetitiveness of predictable naval combat, I left to explore the prize they sought. There are so many Hadarak in the system that the Saiolum is quite thick and I could travel easily. I saw into their minds as they left the system.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t your brethren? There was no rush.”

“Did they detect you?”

“They have no knowledge of the Saiolum…at least no ability in it. I could not detect any window in the system other than you. But their thoughts were treacherous. They were here to learn from the combat with the Hadarak, and they do so in all galaxies. Even the Neofan they do not fight at full strength, only enough to press them to the breaking point to further alter and cultivate the Hadarak into a better weapon. It is their barrier against other threats, while they exist quietly obscured by their territory. They are advanced cowards, and their fear of what they saw Morgan do to them will drive them to send the Hadarak at you in full force. They did not discuss it, but many were thinking it. I believe that is the decision they will make.”

“Them or their bosses?”

“There are a great many of them here, in this galaxy. And those deep in the Core will make the decision. You have a matter of years to study the Maty before the full force of their power in this galaxy begins to come down your throat. And perhaps a century or two after that before the weight of the other galaxies follow it.”

“You suspect or are certain?”

“Nearly certain. It was all they could think about.”

“Glad you’re with us, you sneaky bastard.”

“Do not expect the current pressure on this system to relent. Expect it to continually increase.”

“Anything else you learned?”

“I cannot feel the Gahana. The Saiolum is not within them, so if you wish to find the others in the facility, you will need to use Essence to do so.”

“So they can sense it, but are not part of it?”

“It seems so, though I do not know how that is possible. They may be the most advanced race we have ever encountered, or perhaps that the universe has spawned through the lifesprings. But the source of their radiation concerns me more.”

“An uber bad race?” Paul guessed.

“We seem to be finding more depth to the universe than either of us expected. Growth is our only defense. I will continue to teach you our secrets, add what you can from the Maty, but the Hadarak are here and now, and they will not wait.”

“Make or break,” Paul muttered.

“Indeed. The mantle of responsibility in this case is quite thick and heavy. I will help you bear it as best I can.”

“Thanks, but it looks like the Saiolum toys aren’t going to be out by Christmas in time for the party.”

“There is something more immediate. They value Maty more than their research into you. It is a possible avenue of advancement for the Hadarak, and the collection of knowledge is greater than you have discovered. They will prioritize taking it back before destroying Star Force.”

“So they’re coming here first?”

“Local assets will be here before the Core ones. Your brothers and sisters are already correct,” Azoro said, referencing the continued information Paul was scanning through. “The Maty must be moved.”

“They already tried an IDF field.”

“The Maty won’t allow it, and you cannot tow it. Unless you override it from within, it will not be moved.”

“Did you see access codes in their minds?”

“No. They had little access beyond what was publically accessible. With your help, I can move it.”

Paul raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“The Saiolum with the Hadarak present is quite strong. If you can hold the door open for me long enough, I can move it.”

“Can I?”

“Consider it a challenge,” Azoro dared.

Paul sighed. “How do we do this?”

“You’re going to do what?” Morgan asked Paul when he arrived on the surface of the Maty via dropship.

“Don’t ask me to explain how, but Azoro says we can move it. Not far and not fast, but the Hadarak are going to make this priority number one,” he said, telepathically sending her his conversation notes with Azoro rather than explaining it the long way. “Savvy?”

“Shit,” she whispered. “I opened Pandora’s box, didn’t I?”

“With style,” Paul said, patting her on her helmeted head as he walked past the shorter Archon.

“You’re gonna get fried, aren’t you?”

“Burnt toast,” he agreed, walking down the stairs into the Maty with Morgan rushing to follow…

Two hours later…

“You are absolutely crazy,” Sara said as she and 8 of the trailblazers stood around Paul, who now had his armor retracted and his hands and feet bare as he stood in the approximate center of the Maty complex in an archway that allowed him to make physical contact with the structure with all four limbs.

“Hush, I’m meditating,” Paul said deadpan as he breathed in slowly.

“Any last instructions?” Aaron asked.

“Nobody bump me, and don’t let so much as a mosquito distract me. Azoro doesn’t drive well without bumpers on.”

“You’ve done this before?” Sara asked.

“Move stuff? No. Practice him taking over my body, yeah. A little. Part of my training…and no peeking. Telepathy or battlemeld will shake me loose. I’m not very good at this yet.”

“Orbit is clear of all debris,” Greg confirmed. “And the Elloquim have disconnected and withdrawn. The road is open, if you can really do this.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of the Force,” Paul said, closing his eyes and dipping his head slightly as his arms were pressed tightly against the rim of the doorway and his feet were planted firmly against the floor. Then his head came up rather robotically and his green eyes flared.

“Let us begin,” Paul said, except it wasn’t Paul’s voice, but rather an altered version of it. “So ja ley ti sah mat.”

A wave of goosebumps ran up Morgan’s body, causing her to twitch in surprise…and the same was true of the others who exchanged telepathic inquires, but as promised they didn’t speak to Paul/Azoro so not to distract them.

For a long while nothing happened. Not internally or externally, for the sensor and comm dampening within the Maty had deactivated once the Hadarak had been driven out and they could connect with the battlemap from the ships across the system. Morgan started to think Paul had miscalculated as this stretched on to many minutes, but without warning there was a massive ‘crack’ heard across the surface of the planet, though not inside, with the tracking sensors on the orbiting ships indicating the Maty had begun to rise a few inches per second…and was dragging a huge chunk of now broken planetary crust with it.

That rate of ascent increased slowly as Azoro harnessed the Saiolum currents and used them to propel himself…and by extension what was around him…as if he had deployed a massive sail using his own personal power while Paul was the focal point allowing him to access the physical universe.

The same way Paul could cause his body to move faster by catching a current, Azoro was somehow expanding to the entire facility and a chunk of the planetary crust locked onto it. No technology was involved, and the Maty could not sense what was occurring in order to stop it. It rose unwittingly as the machines inside had no programming to deal with this abnormality, and the Gahana were either too restricted to realize what was happening, couldn’t intervene, or chose not to. So far the others inside had not been located, for it was going to take a level by level search with Essence to find their hiding places, and neither Paul nor Azoro wanted to wait. They needed to get the Maty off the Hadarak map as soon as possible.

Inches per second became meters, and as the rise continued the crust around the Maty flaked off in chunks as it was not being propelled any more as Azoro restricted his aura progressively. Gravity dragged it back down, cleaning the hull as it rose through the atmosphere, eventually revealing the carrot-like shape of the Maty that had streams of magma pouring off the tip.

The planet below became an inferno as the cork was released and the previously pressurized magma burst forth in a supervolcano underneath, then the crust buckled in other places to compensate, but there were no native lifeforms to worry about, and as for the Hadarak burrowed underground, there was no way to save them even if Star Force tried due to their genetic programming to fight to the death.

So Paul and Azoro ignored them, with the Sha’kier pulling the Maty out of the planet and up through the atmosphere slowly gaining speed, but when it hit the cold of space it began to automatically transform, shaking Azoro’s grip momentarily, and it began to fall back towards the planet.

He caught it again on the currents, slowly negating the fall and turning it into ascent again as Paul focused on nothing more than allowing Azoro to commandeer his body, which meant he had to hold open the doorway from the Saiolum constantly to allow him access…and that process was taxing him heavily.

The Maty very slowly accelerated as it simultaneously rounded out into a long oval, but the pace quickened the more they got away from the gravity well as Azoro took it straight up from the planet along the most favorable currents that he had altered prior to lifting. They wouldn’t stay in the direction he sent them forever, so he had to take advantage of it now or expend a great deal more power to troll the Maty along the Saiolum manually.

“Rest,” Azoro said in Paul’s voice, then his head twitched and Azoro was gone along with Paul collapsing to the floor.

Morgan caught him with a flick of her hand and held him aloft until she got over to him and wrapped him up in her arms.

“Hey hotshot, you there?”

“Ouch,” Paul moaned. “Azoro says to activate the cloak now. He’ll have to make a few course adjustments later, but we’ll get to the outer edge of the system.”

“And then?”

“Nothing. The Hadarak will think we’ve left. But we stay right here under their noses.”

“I thought we were taking the Maty to another system?” Greg asked.

“We can, if I want to maroon myself in here with Azoro for the next 1000 years.”

“If the Gahana can override the countermeasures we can tow it,” Morgan said.

“If,” Paul reminded her. “We have cover now to find out. Kick their ass along a fake jumpline and follow it out. Make it look like we’re escorting the cloaked Maty, and take them on a wild goose chase. Otherwise empty the system and let them have it.”

“Well that’s sneaky,” Sara said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The Sha’kier are professional sneaks,” Paul attested as he looked up into Morgan’s eyes now that her faceplace was retracted. “Take me to bed.”

“Medbay?” she countered.

“No, just bed. And read me a story while you’re at it,” he said as his eyes partially rolled back into his head as he fought to remain conscious.

Morgan lifted him up easily using muscle only and carried him away from the center of the ship to the small area where Star Force was busy establishing a colony for their use using mobile structures in one of many open valleys that held the frozen popsicles of preserved valuable races. When she got him there Morgan tucked him into one of the beds in the quarters but didn’t leave as Kara came in.

“Has he done this before?”

“Not that I was aware,” the Jinx said, putting a bare hand on his forehead. “He’s locked up tight.”

“Azoro said they’ll need to do this again later for course corrections. I didn’t even know Azoro could take over his body yet.”

“I’m not with him every second of the day,” Kara scoffed. “And he likes to keep secrets. Is Ghostblade getting guardian duty?”

“Haven’t worked it out yet. Are you going to stay with him?”

“First watch, at least.”

“Ok,” Morgan said, standing up and kissing Paul on the head before moving her lips down to his right ear and whispering “Twos rule” before she walked out.

The faintest of smiles cracked on Paul’s otherwise still face as his right hand under the covers pulled his fingers together until only two were remaining, attesting to his original team during basic training that had taken top marks, though Morgan had claimed the individual top spot.

“I saw that,” Kara said, sitting down in a nearby chair and propping her feet up on top of Paul’s blanket-covered ankles as she kicked her shoes off and summoned a datapad to her hand from across the room that she pulled up a game on. “Next time you have a breakthrough, tell me or I’m going to kick your ass.”

A weak telepathic image was sent to her of a crying emoji.

“10 hours of sleep,” she said firmly. “I’m not letting you up a minute sooner.”

An angry emoji followed.

“Tough. That’s what you get for holding out on me, jerk.”

A clock emoji with the hand on 5 hours followed.

Kara responded with one of her own…Han Solo frozen in carbonite hanging on the wall.

A waving white flag responded, then Paul went truly silent as the fibers on the blanket between Kara’s exposed ankles and Paul’s own frayed a bit under her telekinesis, allowing a skin to skin contact that would give her direct monitoring over his body and what parts of his mind were accessible as she worked on level 38 of 3D Binary Tetris while he began his healing process…

www.aerkijyr.com

Linkin Park: New Divide

Enlightenment

1

February 19, 154964

System Red 2991 (Sicov Region)

3rd moon of the 9th planet

Jarrod Jor fell from the sky in his Neo-class mech, using anti-grav to reduce the fall but not completely negating it as the pieces of the transport he’d just been in hit the ground ahead of him with a splash. He tried to avoid landing on them, goosing his descent to the left where he landed with enough force that his mech’s two large feet smashed into the marshland, through the foot of standing water, and sank three more into the mud beneath.

The mechwarrior managed to keep his ride from tipping over and faceplanting, but it took an extended mechanical hand for extra balance. He held the tripoint stance momentarily as he pried his left leg free, then his right, looking on the battlemap for the rest of his star. Only one of them was showing, but the other three had been right there in the cargo bay alongside him. Where were they now?

He finally stood his mech back up, and now that his feet were no longer planted like poles in the mud, he was able to walk around a bit on the soggy ground, seeing Kiimo pulling his madcat out of the mud far less gracefully as the entire forward pod was buried and his legs were actually up in the air…but the Calavari was using the mech’s small arms to right itself. But where were the others?

Jarrod did a position trace…finding they were 83 miles short of their destination. He pulled up battlemap telemetry from other sources to review what had happened, for inside the cargo bay he hadn’t seen anything personally, and his view was of the battlefront they were traveling to, not the outside of the transport carrying them across what was relatively ‘safe’ ground.

That was obviously an error, with telemetry from the now destroyed transport coming up, overlapped with orbital scans from the Zeda that was just visible over the southern horizon using its weaponry to clean out another Hadarak stronghold in a different section of the planet. Wherever it had line of sight it could monitor and coordinate…plus with drones scattered across orbit, it could extend its coverage out as far as it liked, and as of right now the Hadarak didn’t have any orbital assets around this moon.

Jarrod tracked back the various records to the point of impact…and saw a small projectile fired from the surface nearby that took the transport down in a single shot.

The Hadarak didn’t have any weaponry that could do that, and while he relayed the snippet of sensor data to the Zeda for analysis, he watched the pieces of the ship fall trying to figure out where the other 3 mechs were.

“Jarrod?” the Calavari’s voice asked through the comm.

“I can’t find them.”

“I have part of a Nlin sticking out of my mech’s torso.”

Jarrod turned, both his head and his mech, to see the madcat now standing, but with a huge gash in the front side with a piece in it that looked like a knife blade…expect it was the coloration of Zikova’s mech.

“I’m not picking up any transponders,” the Calavari continued. “What hit us?”

“Something new,” Jarrod all but spat as he looked for signs of the three missing mechs, let alone the cockpit of the transport that had two pilots in it…but from the blast that hit it he doubted they could have survived, but the battle pod that protected them could have come through with some luck.

Suddenly another transponder winked on, with its location being subsurface. It was Hi’ro’ju.

“Damn, he’s underground,” Kiimo said, walking awkwardly as he had extra mech parts sticking out of more than one place.

“I’ve got it,” Jarrod said, sloshing his way through the mix of grass and water that was everywhere save for a few hilltops that rose no more than 3 meters. “Keep looking for the others.”

“You sure you can dig him out?”

“I’ve got the big hands.”

“Ironic,” the Calavari said angrily as he moved off searching the numerous pieces of debris that were half buried or deeper across the area, with the water flowing in to cover any easily identifiable craters.

Jarrod took his neo across to the transponder, seeing some mud get kicked up from underwater, with waves making their way across from the location as the buried mech tried to wiggle its way out, but there was still none of it visible from above.

“Hi’ro’ju?” he said over comm, but still no response as he came up within a few steps of the location, feeling his right foot dip lower in the water than before. He reached out telepathically, sensing someone there, but still getting no response.

There was an underwater crater here, and a fairly deep one. The Protovic must have hit the ground with no anti-grav active. He just hoped his internal dampeners were still functioning.

Jarrod walked his mech into waist-deep water, then plunged underneath as he dropped his roughly Human-shaped mech down onto its hands and knees as he scanned through the mud as best he could. Mechs didn’t carry subsurface-capable scanners, for the most part, and what he did have wasn’t doing a great job now with all the water mixing with the dirt, but he was catching glints of what looked like a leg…meaning the bipedal mech was upside down and lodged in head first, with the mud sliding back over top of it as fast as it was being kicked aside.

The Human extended a mechanical hand down into the muck, fully submerging his mech to do so, and reached for anything solid he could find…eventually grabbing hold of something and pulling while crawling backwards. It didn’t want to move at first, then came free in a lunge.

“Shit,” Jarrod said, seeing the broken leg of the other mech in his hand. “His mech is wrecked. I just pulled the leg off. And he isn’t responding to telepathy.”

“Move aside,” another voice said with authority as more contacts appeared above him.

Jarrod brought his mech back above water, seeing a trio of Pterodactyls in full armor flying down and hovering over the site. The mechwarrior did as ordered, pulling back out of the crater and standing up with the other mech’s leg still in his hand as the water moved suddenly, flowing outward in waves as a cavity in it formed…followed by globs of mud flying out and landing hundreds of meters away.

“Are they doing that with telekinesis?” Kiimo asked on a private comm.

“I don’t know,” the Human said, watching helplessly as they dug down until the first bit of mech finally showed, suddenly squirming more as it was losing the resistance around it.

One of the Pterodactyls flew down into the center, latching on with its armored talons in multiple places, then it spread its wings wide and flapped hard, throwing its own Yen’mer and armor’s anti-grav into the mix, and finally the buried mech pulled free as the other two eliminated the remaining points of conflict.

The Tin Man-class mech came out missing more than just the leg Jarrod held, with only one of its arms and half its head…but fortunately mechs didn’t carry their pilot in the head, rather the chest, and aside from a nasty armor-penetrating wound above the hip on the same side, the cockpit looked to be undamaged.

The water flowed back into the hole when the Pterodactyls released it and flew off in search of other survivors, with the one that was still carrying the damaged mech moving it off to one of the small hills, setting it down, and then he proceeded to tear into the chest trying to extricate the mechwarrior inside.

Jarrod walked up and knelt down beside it, but the Pterodactyl didn’t need any help given the damaged state of the mech, and soon the chest plate was torn free revealing a mess of wrecked components around it along with the spherical armored cradle that carried the mechwarrior inside.

The Knight simply ripped the entire thing out of the mech and set it on the ground, then tapped on it three times. Soon thereafter the entry hatch opened, but no one climbed out. A few seconds later a body came, limp, being carried by telekinesis out of the protective cocoon.

“He lives, but is injured,” the Pterodactyl said, unable to attend to him here. “Open your mech and take him inside.”

“Gladly,” Jarrod said, disconnecting from his elevated perch inside his cockpit and dropping to the floor as he walked to the back hatch and opened to allow Hi’ro’ju to float inside.

The Human grabbed hold of him, then had his entire weight as the Pterodactyl let go and moved off. Jarrod mentally signaled the hatch to close as he laid the Protovic out on the limited floorspace inside his mech and reached down to override his armor to get him out of it…but a hand came up and caught his, then pointed down at his head silently.

Jarrod looked and saw the helmet was dented, meaning he had hit the ground without inertial dampeners. He pressed one of his armored hands against his chest, linking his armor to Hi’ro’ju’s, and finding that his Regenerator was still functional, but limited due to the armor damage. His primary functions had been healed to a point, but the more finesse required to repair delicate tissues would take additional time and the suit damage must have reduced the amount of redundant Regenerator hubs.

Either that meant it was slow in getting to his head injury or couldn’t deal with it. Either way there was a simple method to fix that.

Jarrod triggered the removal of the Protovic’s suit, with most of it melting away save for the damaged areas that remained stiff. He peeled those off his fellow mechwarrior, then took his own suit off and put it on the Protovic, letting its fully intact systems get to work on healing his injuries. After a few minutes of work Jarrod finally heard a long sigh followed by a cough.

“Ouch,” the Protovic moaned.

“You all there?”

“Haven’t taken a hit like that in a mech my entire life,” Hi’ro’ju said as he leaned up into a sitting position slowly. “Am I in your mech?”

“The Pterodactyls pulled you out of what’s left of yours then gave you to me.”

“The others?”

“Kiimo is here. The others aren’t showing transponders.”

“What happened?”

“Some new Hadarak weapon. A single projectile took the dropship down. More than that I don’t know.”

“A projectile from where?”

“The ground as we flew over. Sit tight, we’ve got some searching to do,” Jarrod said as he hopped back into the force fields that held him aloft as he mentally reconnected with his mech and saw through its ‘eyes’ and other sensors.

“Thanks,” the Protovic said, leaning back against the wall and not moving as the Neo began to walk and help search for the others…

Kiimo’s mech was still combat worthy, but it was a mess. It had shrapnel sticking in it at multiple locations that prevented its shields from fully going up, plus a third of its weaponry was down. Somehow both missile boxes on top had survived, but almost everything offensive in the central body was offline.

The Calavari inside was unhurt, for his internal dampeners had been on when he crashed. Hi’ro’ju must not have been so lucky, for Jarrod had updated him on his injuries. He’d live, and was already patched up by a Regenerator, but the other two in their unit were still missing.

Their mechs weren’t, or rather the pieces of them. Arms and legs had been tore off and scattered in multiple locations, but neither central body had been found yet. If the transponders were offline, that meant damage had occurred to knock them out, but if neither Kiimo or the much stronger Pterodactyls could sense the minds of their fellow mechwarriors, either they were in a state of deep unconsciousness…or dead.

He wasn’t going to stop looking until he knew for sure, but the three avians were much better equipped for searching the ground than he was, and eventually the hard truth was discovered. Both mech torsos had been ripped apart into multiple pieces as they had been on the side of the transport where the impact occurred. The protective cocoons had partially held up, but had been cracked like eggs, and the personal armor all the mechwarriors wore was far less robust than what the mech was equipped with.

But pieces of it survived, with enough gore stains in them to know for sure that both mechwarriors had been killed and their bodies destroyed along with their mechs. There wasn’t going to be anything sizeable left to find given the intensity of the detonation, and the protective cradle that held the pilots of the transport was barely recognizable, split into more than a dozen pieces, with no chance that the occupants had survived, though no sign of even a fragment of their bodies or suits was found.

Kiimo was calm at first, but as they were recalled and picked up by another transport to be taken back to one of Star Force’s battleforts, his anger grew with every minute of flight to the point that he was ready to hit anything that got in his way as he walked off the boarding ramp.

The first thing to do so was a stack of crates, which Kiimo diverted to and began slamming the side of them with his armored fists…all four of them…but doing little more than jostling the pile, for the material was too strong for him to break.

At least that’s what Jarrod thought as he stayed with him, though a respectful distance back, until he heard a loud whistling ‘crack’ followed by crunching sounds as the side of one began to give way.

A nearby Pterodactyl flew over, but did not try to stop him, merely perching on top of the stack and looking down at him with his long head/beak as he punched the crate over and over again until he got so out of breath that he collapsed to his knees, only to realize his arms had multiple muscle tears in all of them that he’d been ignoring in his rage and his armor had been healing them as he continued to punch.

It took a few more seconds for them to repair, but it left an even increased feeling of fatigue behind, though he still wanted a target to strike at.

“You are not alone,” the Pterodactyl said, though not one of the three who had come to their aid earlier. “Others were ambushed across the planet within the same minute with a new weapon system. Thousands of mechwarriors are dead.”

“How?” Kiimo demanded, looking up at that armored beak that suddenly peeled itself back to reveal the flesh beneath as all the armor on the avian reduced down in size to two ankle gauntlets on its talons as the Pterodactyl hopped to the ground and stood beside him like a big chicken with its wings tucked along its sides.

“One of a number of commando teams were sent to locate the source. Most died in the attempt, but one succeeded in capturing a projectile before it could detonate. Like most Hadarak weaponry, they are alive and do not wish to be taken captive. One was rendered unconscious by an Archon before they got within sight of it, then they had to fight through a new type of melee unit to get to it. More losses ensued, but the mission was ultimately a success and both were analyzed less than an hour ago. The explosive minion does not contain Essence. Rather it is a fusion bomb grown from a very rare mix of materials. Materials not found on this planet. They were either imported or fabricated.”

“The trailblazers’ warning?” Kiimo asked.

The Pterodactyl nodded. “It seems it was more than future reinforcements, but an employment of weapon systems they can construct in the field but have chosen not to do so previously.”

“They’ve been toying with us?” Jarrod asked, walking up beside Kiimo and placing a hand on his lower right arm.

“They fought the original V’kit’no’sat for millions of years and didn’t show most of the units they are employing against us. Was that toying as they lost Wardens to them or us?”

“No,” Hi’ro’ju said calmly from behind his two surviving star members. “It is war fought for a purpose, and their purpose has now changed. Our battle tactics must as well if they can take out a mech with a single attack.”

“Adjustments are already being made. We won’t be caught so off-guard again. We learn and adapt as always. The question before the three of you is how you will proceed. Do you wish time for reflection, replacements for your unit, or do you wish to go back into battle as soon as we have valid targets?”

“Just like that?” Jarrod asked. “Move on and continue on as normal? Zikova and Yi’tri were taken out without a chance to fight back. We can’t engage the Hadarak when they have the ability to one shot us. They win that way.”

“Your analysis is correct, but incomplete. You do not have to find a solution. Others are already working on it, and even with this capability we can still use remotely controlled mechs for immediate combat. We have options while we adapt. The question before you is a personal one for your unit. Others will solve the riddle the Hadarak have thrown at us, and I anticipate it is more than just on this world and in this system. Many more like you across the galaxy have just been hit with the unknown and suffered losses from it. The Archons will find a way to counter their weapons, and when they do, how will each of you respond? If you need time to recalibrate, take it. If you cannot operate effectively as three, then wait until replacements arrive. Unless the Hadarak strike this base, you have options on how to proceed. I am speaking calmly and logically because that it what you need to hear right now, for your own emotion is drowning out your thoughts, and sharing my own ire will not help, but do not think the rest of us are cold to this.”

Kiimo punched the cracked crate one more time, feeling something pop in his arm again as the weak new tissue didn’t hold up, though the regenerator went about fixing it again within a few seconds.

“I want to do something,” he said, seething.

“A kamikaze leaves no one to fight back against,” the Pterodactyl reminded. “You’re left punching crates with no target to strike. And there are so many Hadarak that killing some of them only to be replaced with more appears to accomplish nothing.”

“So we should we do?” Jarrod asked.

“Ache,” the Knight said bluntly. “It should hurt, but you should not allow it to fog your mind with despair. Grapple with it and recalibrate, for your unit is broken and will never be the same again. You must adjust, quickly or slowly, to avenge them. If you do not, then more than two members of your star will have been destroyed in the attack,” the Pterodactyl said, abruptly flying away as his armor spread back out over his body.

Kiimo punched the crate again, twice, then leaned on it with his head. “He’s not wrong, but damn…”

“It would be better if we were still in battle, but we are not,” Hi’ro’ju said evenly. “We have no enemy to attack, though it strikes us even now. It is the ghost war were taught about,” he said, walking up and punching the crate himself three times. “If we do not strike back, it will rip us apart inside or see us become apathetic. I will become neither.”

“I want more than a crate to punch,” Jarrod said, declining to join in. “I’m going back in as soon as the Archons figure this out. How about you?”

“I concur,” Hi’ro’ju agreed.

“No replacements,” Kiimo said, abandoning the crate and turning around to face the others. “We finish the fighting in this system before we rebuild the star. We finish the fight that’s still going on rather than ignore it.”

“Agreed,” Jarrod said, seeing Hi’ro’ju nod. “Let’s find you two some new mechs. I doubt it will take the Archons long before we have marching orders, and we need to be first in line.”

“No, third in line,” Hi’ro’ju differed. “We were already first in line and took the brunt of this weapon reveal. We’re not at full strength. The strongest go in first, plus I don’t want to have to deal with losing either of you. We go in third and let the others find any more surprises.”

“Why not second?”

“First to feel out the surprises. Second to do the hard hitting. Third to support and cleanup. We need battle, not a fair fight. I can’t stop the shaking in my left hand, and it’s not medical. We wade back into this lightly, and join in the heavy fighting later. There’s going to be plenty in this war, we’re not going to miss out.”

“Alright HiTop,” Kiimo said, patting the shorter Protovic on the head. “I can agree to that as long as we’re in the cockpit and not the barracks.”

“Then lets move,” Jarrod suggested. “If there are thousands more, then there might be a shortage of mechs and I’m not going out there without you two,” he said, pointing in the direction of the reserve mechbay a little less than a mile away inside the massive battlefort perimeter that held a shield dome over top all of it that no fusion bomb had a chance of breaking through…

2

June 23, 154964

Solar System (Home One Kingdom)

Earth

Director Davis looked at the slew of reports that kept coming in from the near side of the galaxy. Those further away would take more time to get back to Atlantis, but he suspected this was happening all across the Grand Border.

The Hadarak had upped their game considerably, and not through reinforcements…which he assumed would also be coming at some point…but through a level of their tech tree never before revealed. They were now fielding units, small and large, against Star Force that had not been employed against them, the V’kit’no’sat, and even against the Neofan and the Bond of Resistance.

High speed naval minions, suicide missiles no larger than 12 meters having nuclear level yields, acid rain tankers calibrated to penetrate shields, heavily armored small infantry akin to the larger Hadarak ultra minions, but far smaller and agile enough to destroy even the best infantry opposition could muster. Those had been used as assassin packs going after key Star Force units in the field, with mixed results, for they could take hits and almost guarantee getting up into melee range where they latched on and held you down while their companions chewed, burned, or blasted their way through your armor.

Beyond that there were naval minions coupled with shield penetrators designed for planetary ramming. Thankfully none of them had actually made it through, for Star Force shields were highly complex and redundant…even more so now that Azoro had added a few Sha’kier enhancements…but against other opponents, or even Star Force in the past, they would have gotten through easily.

But what Davis was not seeing was Essence-capable units. Everything new popping up was conventional, though wildly inventive in some cases. Even the number of Lurker sightings had dropped since the battle of the Maty, but the Director knew better than to think they’d all been killed or pulled back. They were waiting for their moment, and the fact that it wasn’t now suggested a rolling escalation, and this was just the first round.

It’d been three years since the masters of the Hadarak had been discovered, and given galactic distances and Hadarak slow communication and travel, he’d expected a much bigger head start, but the rumors of them having a secondary communications net seemed now to be confirmed, for these attacks were weren’t originating near the Maty as how an order sent from that location would have had surrounding systems acting first. This was happening everywhere along the Grand Border nearest Earth, and that meant word had gotten out fast for them to start growing these units in time to begin utilizing them this soon.

Snoejy, Buenzy, and Teurty had all been located from the Maty’s star charts, and Snoejy had been safely hidden inside Star Force territory inside a volcanic world in the Mekora Kingdom not far from the Hula Hoop. Tuerty had been reached by Star Force troops some 7 months ago, with Davis receiving word on their success only four weeks back. It was located on the other side of the galaxy in one of the remaining unexplored regions sitting in orbit of a gas giant for so long it had accumulated enough ice on it that passersby had thought it was a small, worthless planetoid. After breaking through and gaining entry, Tuerty was slated to be moved with the blessing of the Gahana inside, and Greg-073 had gone to personally make contact.

Buenzy, on the other hand, was located almost dead center in the galaxy with the other three spaced around it in a loose triangle. It was not, however, in Hadarak possession…nor their territory, for the galactic map that the Gahana’s drones had continually been updating offered Star Force an entirely new look at the Deep Core that they’d thought was dominated by the Hadarak.

But that wasn’t the case at all.

87% of it was owned by others, mostly Megaloids, in pockets that left the Hadarak controlling a web of interconnecting territories that ran around the others until they got further out of the densest gravity well clusters and their normal ‘consume all’ mandate appeared to take effect. Just beyond that was the defense ring that shielded the entire Deep Core in what looked like a reverse version of Star Force’s Grand Border, but according to the Gahana’s intelligence gathering, it wasn’t just to keep people out…but also to keep them in, for many of the Megaloids did not have to physically exist in the deepest of gravity wells. They could expand across most of the galaxy if they wished, and the Hadarak were seen to intercept them whenever they left their pockets of territories that the Hadarak would continually probe for weakness and launch seemingly random attacks against…just like the Wardens did in the Outer Rim when the V’kit’no’sat held dominance.

That had been a relief to Davis, for he’d expected them to control the Deep Core rather than just own a piece of it, but there was no way to get a sizeable fleet to Buenzy even if they danced around on their way there to avoid the strongest systems. Buenzy was inside the territory of the Nihibo, and from the Maty’s records they were the equivalent of naval sharks that had Essence capability at least equal to the Lurkers, if not greater, and the Hadarak didn’t even bother trying to probe them with attacks, only scouts that almost never made it out.

Davis didn’t know if the Nihibo had access to Buenzy or not, but they were in the same system as it and flew by at close range as it floated in a field of asteroids looking like many of the others given its shapeshifting technology. Davis could see exactly where it was on the map and had good intelligence of what was in the system, but no way to get there with the forces necessary to hold it, and at this point there was no point in trying to slip a small team through to get inside, for the four constructs backed up each other’s data, and Star Force wasn’t anywhere close to getting around to unfreezing the popsicles yet.

Work inside the Maty continued, for the data wouldn’t simply download itself for transfer beyond the construct. You had to work through it bit by bit, and there was a massive amount to sift through. The PanNari were assisting with that, but Davis had quietly ordered his research team onboard to not trust any of their information, rather to use it as navigational assistance in the database as they double checked everything that the PanNari gave them. If there was going to be some sleight of hand hiding this or that, Davis wanted to know about it, so he had his own people sifting through everything, though some of the stuff the PanNari had discovered was quite useful.

But the problems that kept the popsicles where they were were not so simple. Davis felt they would find solutions for some given enough time, but their civilizations had not fallen due to invasion. Rather it was internal problems, some biological, many structural, and none that had an easy fix. One, called the Kleer-so-kor, got to the point in their development where they lost the will to live, and they just sat down wherever they were and slowly died. No reason was given by them or the Gahana, for no reason had been found, and if Davis revived the few they’d kept alive here, they would most likely die the same way the others did unless he found the reason for their apathetic self-destruction.

The other problems from the myriad of races were equally bizarre, but most had a common theme.

One for all and all for one.

When they fell apart all of them did, and these races had very strong unity bonds amongst them. That was a clue that Davis had been following up in his spare time, but he hadn’t gotten very far with it. Star Force was based on the individual, even in the Knight races who lived a bit more as a ‘team’ than the other factions, but compared to what he was seeing in these ‘lightside tilted’ races was that they did not have a strong individual concept. And for most of them their unity seemed to have become damaged or defective in some way yet to be determined.

Davis wondered that if he and the trailblazers and elder monarchs were taken out at the same time if the rest of the Empire would continue on…or would it begin a similar self-destruction with their leadership gone. He hoped for the former, but after seeing what happened to so many other races in this galaxy alone, the stability Star Force had created internally didn’t feel quite so stable. As if they were on a clock till doomsday…if they managed to survive the Hadarak…and the universe was going to get its revenge for their lightside success one way or another.

Davis had no answers for that, and without answers taking even one of the popsicles out of their hibernation would be disastrous for them, and he’d made it crystal clear that the PanNari were not to do so or interfere with them in any way…and ever since Kyra had been taken to talk with one of the Gahana, the PanNari ‘possession’ of the Maty had no longer been an issue. They revered the Gahana to the point of god-hood, and they’d made their wishes regarding Star Force stewardship clear, along with their suggestion that the PanNari abandon their wish to become fully mechanical and maintain their cyborg duality…else face problems that others had come across in the past.

Even some of the Elloquim were experimenting with growing biological brain components to add to their mechanical Craniems…but Nevantha’s solution seemed to be the most popular, and that was incorporating QuipNari into their crew so they could benefit from their biological perspective and intuition without having to alter their own internal makeup.

As it was, 91% of all PanNari births were now requesting to become QuipNari, and a major restructuring of their society was underway as a result…with their best of the best going to the Elloquim or to the Maty to assist the Craniems stationed there…and the majority of them were choosing Human form. In the past they were grown into bodies that suited their reconnaissance missions, but the QuipNari were no longer created for that specific function…and since the Gahana had chosen Star Force as their caretakers, Humans were the most popular avatars, followed by the other major races in Star Force, with very few others being taken except for specific missions that were still ongoing in the massively large galaxy that the PanNari still knew little about.

After their massive losses at the Maty, Davis had requested that they pull back from combat duty and focus on a few other tasks in addition to data deciphering. They had earned their keep with the finding of the Maty and the holding of it. Right now they needed to rebuild, even if most of their Elloquim survived, for the rest of their fleets had not. And given their somewhat impressive use of non-Essence weapon fabrication to fight the Hadarak, Davis had requested they continue down that route in case the Essence stores that Star Force had at its disposal were ever compromised.

And now with these new weapon systems popping up, Davis was going to request the PanNari work on it concurrently with Star Force, for there was no way you could have Essence-capable ships and troops on the number of worlds needed to counter these smaller units. Even if you had an Archon on a planet, he could only be in one battle at one time, and there weren’t enough Essence-capable troops to go with every unit. Not even close.

As for the trailblazers, they would know of this before he did, for most of them were in the field fighting the Hadarak on their territory, but Greg would need updated, so Davis put together an initial packet of all relevant data and sent it off to him through the comm grid that would eventually end up at a physical courier to get it to the Tuerty maybe a year from now.

There was only one other trailblazer not on the front lines in some fashion, and that was Paul-024. Due to Azoro’s unique ability to read people’s thoughts without them knowing it, and Paul still being the only person he could communicate with, he’d assigned himself a mission that Davis and many of the others had wanted before the Maty had been found and the war to retake the galaxy had subsequently begun. That was the oversight of the Zak’de’ron exodus from the galaxy that was due to begin in a few months at one of the Neofan Temples.

It should have been a triumphant event for Star Force. Now nobody cared as they all had more pressing matters to attend to, including Davis. There were going to be Archons there regardless, just lower ranking ones until Paul had decided to go…and where Paul went Kara went with him. Azoro was still an unknown quantity, and it was possible he could be manipulating Paul or even overpowering him in certain circumstances, but so far everything appeared to be on the up and up, and Kara intended to continue monitoring him to make sure that didn’t change.

But she also wanted to go, for more personal reasons, and see the Zak’de’ron kick themselves out of the galaxy. For that reason both of them needed an update, for even a good idea coming back from one of them shouldn’t have to be delayed by months due to waiting until they got back into the normal comm network…for the Neofan had not allowed their Temples to be ‘modified’ with spacial taps and conventional communication systems. The Star Force embassy there had to use the existing ones or go through couriers…and the existing ones passed through Neofan databases, so most stuff wasn’t sent that way.

Davis sent a copy of the same packet he’d sent to Greg with a few additions to it regarding other matters and sent it off…reminding himself once again how important their comm network was to keeping the Empire together. Without it everyone would be blind, for the months lag would turn into decades, and in that environment Davis couldn’t be the spider at the center of the web pulling strings. Everything would have to be run out of local control, with the emphasis on the training of those leaders.

That contingency had been covered, but Azoro’s promise of instantaneous communication across galaxies was something Davis had never forgot. The trouble was, it required people, not technology, and so far none of the searches that Azoro had requested of the Star Force population had come up with anyone meeting the necessary parameters for another breakthrough similar to Paul’s.

And until Paul got more advanced, he couldn’t help others over that hump. And until Davis had two such individuals trained in the art of tethered communication, he couldn’t employ Azoro’s magical Sha’kier comm bridges…but if and when they had tens of thousands of them stationed on different planets to transmit the highest priority messages and data packets (if Davis’ suspicions about the potential were correct), then that would be a Star Force on an entirely different level. A level he badly wanted, but he did not fail to appreciate what they currently had and others did not. But that one upgrade alone would change things more than anyone else suspected.

And it would give Davis a great deal more control when he could have back and forth communication across the galaxy taking place in minutes rather than months.

But those months were better than what most of the Hadarak used, and because of that Star Force could still dance around most of them, and that’s what they were doing now despite these new weapon systems popping up, and the most densely packed space lanes were now being disrupted and poached by the Star Force fleet…which cut the flow of reinforcements to many, many systems that now had to fend for themselves.

And into those systems Clan Kai’sa went with reckless abandon…

3

October 8, 154964

Kio Nutarri Nebula (Unexplored Frontier)

Neofan Temple #1

Paul-024 and Kara-317 sat in the middle of a mild desert inside the Temple, sprawled out on two reclining beach chairs with Paul in a pair of tight shorts and Kara in a bikini as they sipped high energy and ambrosia drinks watching the parade of Zak’de’ron ships seemingly crash into the horizon as they entered the massive portal one at a time. Each would get approximately half way in, then disappear in a blink, with the next coming into position a minute or so later as the Archons would occasionally wave as they got close enough to fill the skyline to the west, but the rest of the view was brilliant blue skies underneath the central artificial star that always stayed exactly overhead.

They’d brought with them four Essence tankers and deposited all of their cargo into this Temple, as per their agreement with the Neofan to supply the power to move the Zak’de’ron out of this galaxy to an undisclosed location. Also per that agreement, all of the Zak’de’ron would leave together as Star Force watched, with no stragglers allowed. Once they left, the handover of the galaxy would be complete and the mysterious dragons would be left to memory in the Milky Way.

“Best vacation I’ve ever had,” Kara said, taking another slurp of the Star Force beverage simply known as ‘Teal,’ which was a combination of vitamins, sugar, electrolytes, and a light protein mix. All together it looked its name and tasted vaguely similar to mint chocolate. “It’s hard to imagine this day is actually occurring. I hope it’s not some giant ruse.”

“If it is Azoro will find out,” Paul said, leaning back on his elevated chair with his arms behind his head as he watched the train of ships coming down from the glot further up in orbit that was continually decreasing in size. “Hopefully along with a few other things.”

“Why didn’t you have him snoop around before…or did he?”

“He did on his own before we officially met, but he didn’t know what to look for the way we do. Plus, if they’re not thinking it he can’t find it. I imagine their thoughts right now are focused on what lies ahead, so it should be easy pickings.”

“Assuming the Neofan or the Bond of Resistance can’t detect him.”

“According to him, the Saiolum powers are very rare. And those that have them behave a certain way…and he hasn’t picked up on any such behavior in our records.”

“Do you have to scroll through for him?”

“I did until I built an interface. Now I can open up a crack and he can access a very small portion of my mind…and through that he can surf our database. Not very efficient, but he can manage it without me having to watch him.”

Kara frowned. “What part of your mind does he have control of?”

“Telepathic tissue.”

“Huh. Makes sense,” Kara said, taking another sip just before the large ship 82 miles in front of them disappeared. “And you just let him look everywhere?”

“98% of our records. The secret stuff he doesn’t get to look at unless I’m thinking about it.”

“How’d he react to that?”

“He’s fine with it. Relationships have to be built with time and earned trust. They don’t just snap into existence, even if that person is inside your head.”

“He’s being very well behaved,” Kara said suspiciously.

“He’s been imprisoned in the Saiolum for so long, he’s just happy to have any interaction.”

“Do you trust him?” Kara asked, knowing Azoro was off peeking into the dragons and not hanging out with Paul right now…which was actually the first time she’d been free to speak with him about it.

“We have an understanding about that,” Paul said, tossing a rectangular chip into his mouth with perfect aim and crunching it in two bites. “He’s good at analysis, and so am I, so he’s seen me run the numbers on such…unpleasant situations. He knows what will happen if he tries to go darkside, and it ends up with him being isolated in the Saiolum again.”

“What about when we give him a new body?”

“By the time we’re knowledgeable enough to do that, we’ll be caught up enough that he won’t be a significant threat. Not when there’ll be millions of us and one of him, no matter how strong he is.”

“It still worries me.”

“I know,” Paul admitted. “I don’t like being helpless right now if he wanted to take control, but my lack of skill is kind of a blessing, because in order for him to do that permanently he’d fry me so much it would kill me and he’d be back to being Tom Hanks without a Wilson.”

“And when you get stronger?”

“He can’t fight in my body as well as I can. If he took control you could kick my ass easily. The Saiolum offers a lot of nifty tricks, but firepower isn’t one of them.”

“As far as he’s told you,” she noted.

“It’s going well,” Paul said flatly. “Never say never, but I think we’ve found a legitimate ally.”

“I’d feel better if it worked both ways and you could see his thoughts too.”

“Oh it does,” Paul said, crunching another cherry-flavored chip. “When I let him drive, I get to look over his shoulder, and into his memories a bit.”

Kara half sat up and looked at him from behind her wide sunglasses. “Oh really?”

“I can’t have conversations with you about him without him knowing, you know? Don’t want to be rude to the demi-god.”

“Well he’s on recess right now, so spill everything you couldn’t say before.”

“He thinks you’re hot.”

“What?”

“His words, not mine…although I had to translate. His language is quite bizarre. Worse than Mandarin and Nichita combined. I can only understand a bit of it, so a lot of his memories of conversations are unintelligible…”

“Define ‘hot,” Kara interjected.

“He likes the way you glisten when you sweat, especially out here.”

“You’re making that up.”

Paul raised two fingers together and tapped his forehead in a mock salute. “Scouts honor. He keeps urging me to mate with you in the hopes of producing another Jinx…although I think he also does that because he knows I won’t. Sarcasm is something I can’t read in him yet, but there is a base logic to his argument.”

“Is it him that thinks I’m hot or you?” Kara challenged.

“I can’t think of a single Archon female that isn’t hot,” Paul replied. “Can you name a male?”

“You got me there,” she said, laying back down and returning her view to the next ship on approach as a semi-gross thought occurred to her. “Do you get to read his sexuality too?”

“Well, without a body he doesn’t really have an active one, but when he’s in mine…it gets weird, especially around you. More than the others, or maybe that’s just because you’ve made yourself my ball and chain.”

Kara casually tilted her glass to the side and threw her drink on him, but Paul caught it midair with his Lachka and redirected it into the sand on the other side of him.

“And that’s why we don’t marry,” he scoffed.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like if we tried?”

“Obviously you have. How’d it end?”

“Other than some sex and sharing quarters, I don’t see the difference. Back before I was an Archon I had always imagined marrying someone who would be closer to me than anyone else, but the bonds I have with other Archons I’ve never met are deeper than most married couples. And you…ha…well you I doubt I could get closer to.”

“I’m closer with Jason, actually.”

“That only reinforces my point. We’re all so nearly identical we just click without any effort. You and your battlemeld twin especially. You’re both males, so that’s a bit of commonality I can’t share. As for being physical, frankly it seems stupid whenever I run it through my head. Most of it anyway. And when I walk through crowds of…I don’t even know what to call them now. Civilians doesn’t sound right.”

“Commoners?”

“Accurate but doesn’t have the right ring to it. But when I do walk amongst them and see their body language, I remember what it used to be like back before I was trained. It’s hard to think I still carry those memories after all these years, but I do.”

“As do I. They matter because of our personal development early is so rapid and extensive. A lot more happens than people realize in your first 20 years.”

“I put myself back there, on the dates I had. The first time I got laid. When I got dumped and my heart broken…and it all seems so comical now. As if you can’t engage in such activities unless you’re as dumb as a rock.”

Paul laughed. “I hadn’t put that much thought into it, but I don’t disagree. Sex and mating instincts are based around tricking you into reproducing when that’s not really what you want to do, so if you’re going to fall for the idiot trap, you kinda have to live the part.”

“And I can’t be an idiot now. I lost that ability a long time ago.”

“What about in your dreams?”

“I used to, but ever since my siphon opened up I don’t dream anymore.”

Now it was Paul that frowned. “That’s not a good sign.”

Kara waved him off. “I know, but if I slow down and rest I might go Furyan and end up Godzilla-sized or something worse. Assuming I’m as active as you guys are without being Saiyan, and I’m not sure if even any second gen qualifies in that department. Are we going to check on that at some point?”

“At some point,” Paul echoed. “Right now we’re just trying to kick off the training wheels. The more we learn before you guys try and dive in the better it is for you. But let’s go back to your inability to date.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you have a crush on me?” Paul said sarcastically.

“Always have,” Kara said unembarrassingly. “It mostly faded, but a little bit remains. How about you?”

“If I had someone ahead of me I might be able to, but I can’t have that euphoria, even a little bit, without analyzing the value of the target. My imagination got too refined to allow me to fill in all the unknowns with good stuff to boost the score.”

“That is how crushes work, don’t they?”

“I think so. Can’t say I’ve had the ability to self-analyze one in recent memory, but Azoro does have one on you.”

“Do you know what he looks like yet? Either his real body or one of the fabricated ones?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Kara rolled over on her side to look at him. “Yes I do.”

“Okay…” Paul said, sending her a mental image.

Kara gagged, covering her mouth with her hand. “No…”

“Yes,” Paul said.

“They’re aquatic?”

“Amphibian actually. Those tentacles double as walking legs.”

“How can he think I’m attractive then?”

“They bioluminesce during mating rituals, and the way the sunlight reflects off your sweat…”

“You’re right, I don’t want to know…”

“Plus he’s also seeing you through my eyes, so it’s probably a mix of the two.”

“Tell me honestly…do I look like I’m 12 years old?”

“No. Why?”

“I’ve been told so before.”

“Probably by someone who isn’t familiar with Archons or other really fit girls. They assume you’re supposed to have large breasts, I’d guess?”

“And wide hips.”

“And that bothered you?”

“A bit, though at the time I was dealing with the unseen itch of my siphon.”

“Why?”

“Guess it’s a ranking thing. The more in shape you are the hotter you’re supposed to look, so when I got told I looked like a kid…”

“It meant the newb outranked you.”

“Exactly.”

“If you let yourself think like that, other people’s opinions replace reality and you’re judged on a scale that isn’t accurate and one you can’t control.”

“I know, I know. Basic sexuality training they get in the maturia…except we missed that because there wasn’t any maturia back in the day.”

“There’s gotta be something else.”

“Feel free to poke around and look,” she offered.

“Me or Azoro?”

Kara half puked again at the thought of a tentacle poking up between her legs…

“Don’t ever say that again.”

“Why so sensitive? You’ve seen and experienced grosser stuff.”

“You tell me,” she said, rolling out of her beach chair onto her naked toes in the hot sand for a step before climbing onto Paul’s chair and half laying on his slightly blue body to make the skin to skin contact to bypass her Ikrid. She put her face into the crook of his neck, having to adjust a bit to match up with his much larger Furyan body. “Strip me down and tell me what you find before Azoro gets back,” she said, waving at the Zak’de’ron ship just now beginning to enter the portal. She couldn’t help herself, the irony was too great.

“Don’t vaporize me if I hit a soft spot.”

“My siphon is closed and won’t open unless I tell it to. Poke around freely.”

Paul did as requested, diving into her mind that opened up to him in most areas, but he had to dig in others to get through subconscious barriers. Although the truth wasn’t hard for him to find. Kara was just blocking it from herself.

“I sense a conclusion in you,” she said, staring up at the sky that was partially eclipsed by his chin.

“You want the truth or a lie?”

“Dumb question.”

“Not really, because you’ve been lying to yourself for a long time.”

Kara pulled up onto her elbow, then slid on top of him until she was sitting on his abs and looking down at his own sunglasses, which she casually pulled off his face and tossed to the side so she could look into his green-ringed eyes. “Explain.”

Paul tapped on her wrist jewel twice. “You didn’t earn your way like the rest of the second gen, let alone the first class. You got a cheat…a badly needed one for Star Force, but it always left you wondering how you’d measure up on your own, and you never had a chance to find out. Because of your new powers and skills you became a trailblazer, but not one of us. You were on our level, above it even, yet still below us. You didn’t go through basic training with us. We were never teammates or competition. Your own class you broke with because the Zak’de’ron split you apart from them. Ever since you haven’t been able to measure yourself accurately, never knowing if it was you or the Vorch’nas. And when your siphon opened up it made things worse, partially because you don’t know why it opened up and if it had to do with the genetic alterations the Vorch’nas made in you.”

“And that’s related to my sexuality how?”

“I think you got blindsided by that comment. Nice grab, by the way, with the Grand Admiral. Didn’t realize you were so…inventive.”

“He needed the push, and the opportunity. And we needed another Grand Admiral.”

“All true, but you saw someone with potential. Potential before it was fully manifested. A raw assessment from someone worthy…and he deemed you less than a lot of the girls who were far less skilled because of your slim frame, and it caught you off guard, reinforcing old doubts. It said you were unworthy, despite his admiration of your Archon status and skills. The fact that he found anything lacking, even the smallest tidbit, reopened a wound you had hidden from yourself, and are still hiding from.”

“And?” she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly.

“The majority of your life you’ve had to walk a solitary path, even amongst many other people. In some ways that’s worse, because isolation has advantages of its own. But you had to be part of a team without being on par with your teammates. You’ve felt like a cheater ever since that jewel was forced on your arm. And what’s worse is you can’t even take it off. You’re forced to be a cheater, and you hate it.”

A single tear dropped from Kara’s face onto Paul’s bare chest, but she didn’t move a muscle.

“What else?”

“You’ve been clinging to me because I’m ahead of you in a lot of ways, but I’m also slightly deviant from the other trailblazers. Not much, but you see it as a kinship, especially now that I’ve got Force powers and the others don’t. Your crush on me is because you see me as a measuring rod you can use to better assess yourself. One loner to help define the other. A crush is always an assessment of superiority. Something the other has that is greater than your own…or greater than everyone else in competition. You feel a need to be with them, not because they are attractive, but because you lack something and you need them for it. And what you need most, is for someone to tell you, honestly, that you’re worthy and it has nothing to do with that damn jewel.”

Kara cried, in bursts, letting out something she’d been holding in so long she didn’t realize how strong it was, and buried her face in Paul’s chest so she didn’t have to look at him, but he was still inside and wouldn’t let go, even when she tried to reflexively push him out. His Furyan Ikrid was too strong for her to resist now.

“We care about the truth, and when other people are saying the opposite of what we think the truth is we have to consider they might be at least partially right. That’s why toxic people have an effect unless we know ourselves so well that their lies and exaggerations are dead on arrival. If we have even the slightest doubt, our loyalty to the truth requires us to analyze any deviation. Even one about a 12 year old body. And you’re not alone in this. I have to constantly wonder if I could have saved someone, or tens of thousands of people, if I had gone on one more mission. Pushed one hour harder in combat. Did one more simulation. Nobody is as good at me in naval, though several have come close, and not all are Archons. But I don’t have a true peer, let alone a superior to measure myself against. And what I do has consequences, so I am always doubting whether a rest break means I betrayed a planet. Do you have those doubts?”

“Never,” Kara said, still sobbing.

“Because you look to me and the others ahead of you for calibration. You fight and do well, but you know others can replace you in most ways. Because we fight as a team. But when I do my thing, no one can keep up. So there is no team at the tippy top. When you got your Vorch’nas you were at the tippy top, and then again with your siphon, though you had a non-Archon master to teach you, and that helped, but in comparison to me and the others you were far beyond us and you couldn’t pattern off of us. You were alone, amongst many peers that were never full peers.”

4

Kara tried to wall off her emotions so she could analyze better, but Paul wouldn’t let her. She needed to bleed this out, and now, and he let her know that without using words…rather saving those for the important points.

“And now those who put the Vorch’nas on you are leaving. The only chance to get it off going away. You are relieved by the finality of it. Glad to see them gone. Glad to have that path denied you for a sense of certainty, because now you don’t have the option of flying up to their faces and demanding they take it off or else. But they’re also the only ones who know how much cheating was done and how much you earned on your own. And that knowledge is leaving never to return.”

“If I…can’t do anything about it…what option do I have other than numbing it away? Throwing random tantrums won’t get me anywhere. I’ll be right back…at the same place when I’m finished.”

“I’m working on something that can help with that. It’s not ready yet, but it’s something Tennisonne and I…well, plus some other Mastertechs to be fair…but it’s something we need going forward. It’ll be a way for you to measure up, and for me, and for others, on a level playing field. It should give you the answers you seek, but it all comes down to the same damn reason I was hurt so badly when Riona died. And that was because a piece of me was linked to her in my own mind. And when I lost her, I lost it…or that’s the way I thought of it.”

“So she was your girlfriend?” Kara said, feeling a stab in her own heart that she tried to block out, but was open for Paul to see.

The Furyan knew trying to explain in words wouldn’t work, so he shared some of his memories fighting the lizards with Riona. How the gore they forced on him made him lose his way, become numb, disoriented, and turned him into a walking zombie that couldn’t feel no matter how hard he tried to wake himself up. Then he shared how Riona and he had helped each other figure it out, face the horrors, and how they’d come out of it with a bond that linked that weak spot in each of them to each other…and how her death had ripped the strength away from him for a while.

Until he’d completed his lesson and saw the truth in a way he couldn’t before. When that happened, the weakness and vulnerability in him vanished, but the longing for that bond remained an open wound that still existed to this day, and Paul showed her it, along with others from his past. His parents, other Archons now dead, Jason from a dream he’d had that was so real he thought he was dreaming when he woke up only to realize he was still alive, and a few other real losses.

“When you form a good bond, it’s an advantage. And when it’s gone, you’re weaker without it,” Paul explained, not tearing up but Kara could hear the strain his voice as he shut off his own memories from her. “If you relied upon it, then you will be hobbled. So the trick of it is to gain from it, but not rely on it. You doubt your own merit, and are relying on others for any calibration you can get. That leaves you vulnerable when it gets pulled out from under you.”

“Will you let go now?” she asked, still emotionally exposed with his Ikrid foot jammed in her mental door.

“In a moment, but first you need some perspective.”

“About what?” she asked a moment before he pulled her down lower and kissed her hard.

He held it for what seemed like forever, and Kara’s emotions suddenly went back to when she was a wobbly kneed freshman gawking at the seniors she’d never have a chance with…and now one had just kissed her.

The part of her mind that went into Archon analysis mode got shut down by Paul, forcing her to feel only in the moment, then he finally let her go, physically, mentally, and emotionally…but slowly so she could see the transition play out.

The crying that resulted in rivers running down her face slowed to a trickle, the blushing receded, and the out of control facial expressions smoothed out into her normal calm, controlled Archon badass by nature façade.

“There you are,” Paul said as she came out of the transition, feeling as if a giant weight had been lifted off her chest.

“How…what did you just do?” she demanded, propping her arms on his chest in a tripod as she starred down into his smirking face.

“Let’s just say I have given you my stamp of approval in a way that you couldn’t veto…for a moment. But the memory of that moment will linger, and whenever you’re in analysis mode you’re going to have to consider it as a counterweight to any criticism. And by the way, I do prefer your small nubs,” he said, pushing her arm tripod lower so he could replace it with his own that had his palms upward and cupping each of her breasts.

“You can be a flirt when you try,” she said, leaning into the prop up rather than shying away, but with neither getting flustered by the irrelevant contact between palm and mammary glands…though both also realized that back in the day when they were young and stupid it would have meant something. And by doing something that didn’t matter now, but was thought to then, it had a symbolic gesture now that both could appreciate if they closed one eye and squinted real hard.

“When there’s a need,” Paul admitted.

“What’s this new thing you’re working on?”

“A surprise, even to Davis. So don’t mention it to anyone.”

“Training?”

“Of a sort. But the sort where you can’t know it before it happens or it won’t work.”

“Ah,” she said, feeling a little off balance. “A little to the left.”

Paul adjusted his hands a half inch. “Better?”

“Perfect. Your hands are the right size now.”

“But you can’t watch the ships from this angle.”

“I can let a few go without my permission,” she said, reaching down into the container of chips and pulling a few out, which she then fed to him on her fingers one at a time. “So does this legitimately make me your girlfriend now?”

“Until Azoro comes back.”

Kara cringed. “Yes, please, not when he’s here.”

“And don’t tell the others.”

“Why does that bother you? I’ve heard them teasing about it.”

“Archons don’t date. It’s a violation of the Jedi Code. And it…”

“Requires you to be stupid?”

“Quite.”

“So why now, even temporarily?”

“Because you need it.”

“Ouch,” she said passively as she reached for more chips.

“And because you need it, it becomes a mission and therefore not stupid.”

“Our current…configuration…is somewhat stupid.”

“Is it really? Or just inefficient?”

“I thought inefficient was stupid?”

“So is weighted training clothes.”

“Ah, so this is training somehow?”

“Consider it calibration. We know each other well, but we rarely touch each other aside from sparring. And I rarely touch anyone aside from sparring. Someone getting this close violates perimeter protocols…and its kinda nice to have someone you can let inside without any doubts of them backstabbing you.”

“Or front stabbing,” she said, moving her right leg slightly for emphasis. “Kind of like being in battlemeld?”

“No, because I can’t sense your thoughts and know what you’re going to do before you do it. I’m vulnerable, but I have no doubts about you so I can stupidly relax…except it isn’t stupid, it’s a luxury.”

“So why aren’t we mating in full view of the Zak’de’ron?” she said, flipping his lower lip teasingly.

“I’ve been answer man today, so you answer that question yourself.”

Kara slid another chip in his mouth as she squinted at him. “Mating is usually offensive for males, supplication for females. You don’t see me as a target, don’t want to access those stupid mental circuits, and even if you did you wouldn’t use them very well because you’d fight them unless you were in a dream state. How close am I?”

“You left out how putting you in supplication might proc your subconscious defenses and have me on the receiving end of either a Jumat blast or something worse.”

“True, if I really did get out of control…and that’s when it feels the most exhilarating…I couldn’t guarantee your safety. But there’s the catch. Only a newb can get out of control, and we’re too advanced for that. So we could go through the motions, but nothing too intense would happen.”

“And if it did?”

“And if it did,” she echoed, “we’d see the overload as a threat and something we’d have to train into oblivion, else it could be a weakness an enemy could use against us or could manifest in a very unfortuitous time.”

“Sounds like we’re just anti-fun, doesn’t it?”

“Until I moment ago I would agree. But you really put the works on me for a couple seconds.”

“And?”

“It’s the binary equation of it. I can’t give myself that sort of approval, or physical contact. And because the binary is usually flawed, we have to grow beyond it and deactivate it.”

“But since a piece of it is connected to reality, we can’t just shut it off completely.”

“Is that why Archons never did? I know some Commandos have.”

“Those were special cases. In general it was seen as a test of one’s merit. Overcoming pain is one thing, but overcoming the lure of pleasure requires a different skillset. And many don’t want to fight that one.”

“I wonder why I never heard about that.”

“You weren’t involved in the decision-making.”

“And you guys were since you started basically everything?”

“Yep. Pretty much.”

Kara ran her fingers through his short neon-colored hair. “Why did you choose green?”

“My natural is still black. That didn’t change. And we were wearing Clan colors too much. We’ve been at war too long against the Hadarak, and in a seemingly never-ending war we can’t be in ultra focused mode…which the hair color is meant to represent.”

“But why green?”

“Color of Luke’s lightsaber when he actually becomes a Jedi and stops using someone else’s.”

Kara’s eyebrows raised. “Seriously?”

“Sound stupid?”

“Only the part about you finally becoming a Jedi. You were before the Saiolum.”

“How so?”

“How so?” she scoffed, bouncing on his hand props a bit as a laugh came out. “Oh let’s see, beyond the telekinesis, mind reading…”

“Jedi can’t read minds, only emotions. Don’t cite that fanfic trash.”

“And the fact you still care about that now, despite it happening long before you were born…”

“A betrayal is a betrayal in any age.”

Kara clammed up abruptly, then her face suddenly squirmed a bit. “Now I see it.”

“What?”

“You’ve always been chasing fiction, knowing that it’s not real, but something in it felt real and you couldn’t let it go. Then bit by bit it actually became real, but never fully. You’ve been a fake your entire life. Cheating yourself out of a real life in pursuit of a dream. Yet the dream was more true to you than the life you left behind on Earth when you joined Star Force. Am I getting warm?”

“You’ve been getting warm ever since you sat on top of me,” Paul deflected.

“No, no. My turn. Open up big guy. Trust goes both ways.”

“Not always,” he said, but he never the less opened his passive Furyan defenses. “You know you can’t overpower me now if I shut the door…or stop holding it open.”

“Won’t need to. Sorry, but I can’t kiss you like that and you know it. And…there it is. Plain as day, but ancient. You’ve always found more connection to scifi than real life, and then you made most of it real when you got the chance…meaning it wasn’t really fiction at all, except the Force. No, more than that. You’ve wanted to just be real, not having to create it. You actually resent all that you’ve done for Star Force. You don’t actually want to be the first class inventing everything. You want to be one of the latter ones who gets to learn everything as fast as they can and still not be able to absorb it all.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Very much so. I know you like tinkering.”

“Sometimes you get tired of shoveling snow off the path for everyone else to walk on, and just want to follow a cleared path while your limbs rest up.”

“So instead of learning to be a Jedi you had to create the Jedi?”

“In retrospect, yes, though I never actually tried to do that.”

“And you banned the creation of an actual lightsaber, or as close as we could get to it, to avoid that level of fakery?”

“You’re digging into my mind more efficiently than I thought.”

“I know you better than you think, boyfriend,” she said, poking around a little more. “And now Azoro comes for you, and only you, to teach you the ways of the Saiolum. Something you don’t have to create on the fly. You’ve got a whole curriculum to follow, and outdo those who came before you. So now you feel like a real Jedi rather than a kid pretending to be one that actually ended up one by accident?”

“This is why the Jedi Code forbade relationships.”

“Anakin would have been fine if the Jedi Council hadn’t been stubborn dumbasses that couldn’t see the Sith Lord under their own noses.”

Paul opened his mouth to counter that, but suddenly found he couldn’t. “Mace was a jerk.”

“And Yoda?”

“Guess I kind of mentally delete those parts so they don’t sully the good lines.”

“Make sure you don’t do the same with Azoro.”

“You’ve seen his race now. Do you really think I can associate them with Yoda?”

“Good point. Stop thinking about that.”

“You’re in my head, you get what you get sweetheart.”

“So after all this time you really felt like a cheater until recently?”

“A faker would be more accurate. I got used to chasing dreams that were better than what was around me. I didn’t know it then, but that’s part of what makes an Archon and Archon.”

“Then how did I become an Archon?”

“You’re chasing the same thing in different fashion. We always want to rise, even when a pathway to rising doesn’t exist and we’re told that ‘rising’ is a figment of our imagination and we are immature, irresponsible losers for even thinking about such non-normal things.”

“I sadly can remember a few times my parents said something similar. I was never on the same wavelength as them.”

“I tried to be, but when it came to learning self-sufficiency…they just didn’t care to listen. Even when they were growing old and seeing it in the mirror and I told them the way to counter it, they wouldn’t try.”

“Did they give a reason?”

“I was their kid, and they thought that meant I could never know as much as they did. So anything I said was just fanciful thinking.”

“Despite the fact others weren’t growing old?”

“It was too early for that to be public knowledge. They had to take my word for it, and they simply would not. I never gave up on them. But they wouldn’t accept my help.”

“We were all orphaned that way, more or less?”

“No, a few of us still have parents who are alive.”

“Really? Who?”

“Liam, Sara, Morgan, and Rio all have at least one surviving parent the last I know of. They learned, while my parents refused to.”

“None in my class did, at least I don’t think so. We had a couple decades in there where they were dropping like flies and it hit some of us really hard. We all felt like orphans.”

“And then you got orphaned a second time…”

“With benefits,” she admitted, glancing at the clear jewel on her wrist that she could change into any color she wanted…or shape.

“It does look pretty good, I’ll admit. As does your body shape…honestly. You can confirm that now, and I recommend you do.”

Kara did poke around for that tidbit, finding her shape was much more pleasing to Paul than it had been for Han Tyver.

“Ok, I gotta ask, because I’ve never understood this and I’m not seeing a clear answer in your mind. Why are guys so obsessed with boobs? You have nipples too…or at least you did when you were Human. What’s so damn fascinating about them?”

“I could ask you the same thing about girls and dicks.”

“That’s a reproductive organ and designed to pleasure us. Boobs are designed as milk jugs for younglings to feed off of. So what’s the sexual fetish with them? I never understood that.”

“In hindsight it’s rather obvious, though guys don’t really understand it when they’re young either. It’s not so much a thing now, but was in our generation because it was illegal…mostly…for girls to go around topless. Used to be for guys if you went back further in certain time periods, but when girls get to see guys’ nipples in public and not the reverse, it suggests there is something special about the girls’ version. If not why should it be hidden? And why should girls react to fiercely when they are accidentally seen? There must be something special about it. The same way a person reacts to a locked door or sealed box that everyone is making a fuss over.”

“It’s all an illusion?” Kara said disappointedly.

“Only part. But when you conceal something your imagination fills in the rest, much like a crush on a stranger you know almost nothing about. So guys, in their imagination when they didn’t have actual breasts to see, saw them with their sex drive fantasy…until they saw the actual version and the dream was busted. It’s all downhill after the Christmas present is unwrapped or the locked door is opened.”

“What’s the other part?”

“Movement. Your breasts dangle, more so if they’re bigger, and the motion attracts the eye. They also stick out from your chest into the airspace beyond, and anything that sticks out, doesn’t matter from a body, building, or hologram, catches the eye. And since your breasts are smooth and not covered in hair, plus soft and squishy, they resemble toys designed to be touched…because in fact they are designed to be touched by infants. Wrap all that together and you have a partial illusion based in physical fact that warps the minds of the young and inexperienced know-nothings.”

“So like deep sea fish with the glowing lure to bait in prey?”

“Only you have two.”

“And vaginas don’t bounce or stick out?”

“But when they’re hidden even more than breasts, the secret treasure factor does come into play. But yeah, the bouncing is a big part of it.”

“And now?”

“Now I see bouncing as a tactical disadvantage, and thus not an attractive thing…though still eye catching.”

“Which is why you like my slimmer build?”

“Better fitness equals better genetics, and on the most basic level, that’s what you’re sex drive is built upon…with a lot of nonsensical cheese to bait the reproductive trap.”

“So that’s why most guys like boobs as big as they can get them…” Kara said, staring off at the desert sands for a moment. “Don’t know why I never considered that possibility.”

“Because it’s stupid,” Paul admitted. “And if I knew why girls liked dicks so much, I’d probably think that was stupid as well.”

“Want to be let in on the secret?”

“Nah, I think this is one mystery box I’ll leave sealed, thanks.”

5

“You favoring ignorance now?”

“Less noise for my brain to process, and you always want to leave at least one Christmas present unopened. That way Christmas never truly ends.”

“So you did think you’d basically learned everything about the universe and found that knowledge boring, didn’t you, until you found Azoro and he opened your eyes?”

“Technically it was Cal-com, but yeah, I had fallen into that delusional trap.”

“So how many real Christmas presents did you leave unopened?”

“There are a few TV show episodes and movie sequels that I have deliberately not watched so the story never ends for me.”

“Always faking reality to grasp at something better. I think my crush on you increased a bit, and I’m not even going to analyze how or why.”

“Because it would be a letdown?”

“No. Because it would dull the sense that you just opened up in me. Just like the sense of wonder Azoro…or Cal-com…opened up in you. Too much analysis leaves us in the bleachers watching the game rather than on the field playing it.”

“Is that a pickup line or…”

Kara pressed a chip to his lips to silence him. “And mating would also be a distraction. Screwing the cheer leader in the locker room during halftime and missing the third quarter because of it.”

“Did you actually…”

“Not me, but my friend did…with the quarterback…in an away game…at Sectionals.”

“Of all the bone headed…”

Kara pressed the chip harder and into his mouth to stop him from talking. “Spoken like a true teammate and not a romantic. How disappointing,” she said sarcastically.

Paul chewed the chip to remove the obstacle. “Girls are always causing guys trouble.”

“And they like doing it because they’re self-absorbed twits who can’t walk and chew gum at the same time and have no life except what they suck off of others.”

“Who told you that?”

“It’s what I told my friend when she found out I was joining Star Force and not going to a Sorority with her.”

“What did you do in high school?”

“Cross country, gymnastics, and softball. State qualifier in the first two, but my softball team never was up to par.”

“What position?”

“Catcher.”

“And you were best friends with a cheerleader?”

Kara shrugged, bouncing on Paul’s hands ever so slightly. “She was my next door neighbor who I had nothing in common with, which made us opposites enough that we weren’t competition in the social pecking order, so we were each other’s relief valve.”

“And she didn’t like you joining Star Force and not going to college with her?”

“Ended the friendship right then and there. She wouldn’t have anything to do with me afterward, though I tried to keep in contact. She wouldn’t return a single text or call. She was a conceited piece of shit, and it was a wonder we didn’t have a falling out sooner. But then again, maybe she needed my sanity to help guide her.”

“Do you know where she ended up?”

“Dead three years later, overdosed on meth at a party. One life I maybe could have saved if I hadn’t left, but I would have had to betray myself to do so, so I never blamed myself or my decision. Just regretted the outcome. We walked parallel paths for a while, but they were destined to split eventually. You?”

“No close friends, but a lot of people that were more than acquaintances. Then I get to basic training and find I had 99 brothers and sisters I never knew about, and we were closer than any of my previous friends after about 2 minutes of talking on the ride to Atlantis.”

“You all rode together?”

“No. Just saying we gelled as soon as we met each other. Same for you guys?”

“Yeah. They selected us well. I haven’t thought about those years in a long time. It’s hard to remember not having Essence flowing through my veins and a jewel on my wrist.”

“You think they define you now?”

“They do. If you took them away I’d be severed. Same with you if you suddenly lost your psionics…or ability to mind link with a fleet.”

Paul cringed. “I see your point.”

“Not entirely. You’re looking at it as a reliance weakness. I’m looking at it as my current Pokémon evolution.”

“We have gone through a lot of those, haven’t we?”

“With more still to come, apparently, if the Neofan assumption is right. Ok, put me down. My boobs aren’t designed as hard points.”

Paul rolled one hand up to her right shoulder, took her weight there, then moved the other as she brought her arms back into position on his chest to remake her tripod as she gave Paul another chip.

“You’re going to make me fat,” he joked.

“As if that was possible,” she said, stuffing another three in his face. “Does your new body even have fat?”

“Good question. Yes, there’s obviously fat cells for storage. But I don’t know if we can actually put on excess weight. You’d think we could, but there might have been a change there.”

“Don’t try.”

Paul smirked. “Not a challenge I’m interested in.”

“Don’t even use that word with it or you’ll reconsider,” Kara warned.

“Might think about it. Wouldn’t do it.”

“See.”

“Ok, girlfriend,” Paul said, tossing her back over to her own chair in a very pretty arc that landed her exactly where she needed to be with barely a bump on landing. “You’re missing too much of the show.”

“Story of all my relationships. Over just when they get interesting,” she said deadpan as her eyes went back to the convoy of ships gradually approaching the portal that was only visible edge on as it was flat to their point of view.

“Because you were a Tom Boy?”

“I was called that…twice. Hit one of them.”

Paul rolled his head to look at her. “For calling you that?”

“No, for something else he did.”

“Did you have a rough time growing up?”

“Most of my growing up occurred in Star Force. If you mean the time I spent gaining height, then yeah. That’d be a fair statement. No scars remaining though. They turned to dust over time.”

“I’ve been pushing ahead so much I haven’t really looked back to narrate the past, but it does seem crazy that we made it this far. Even putting the near certain death of the V’kit’no’sat aside.”

“Regrets?” Kara asked.

“Battles I would have fought differently, but no regrets. Not now. Before the transformation, yeah.”

“Regret that all the hard stuff was over?”

“Bingo. Then the universe reminded me that it’s a never-ending story, and never-ending level upgrades.”

“Which is illogical. It can’t go on forever.”

“And what happens 5 minutes after it ends?” Paul challenged.

“A paradox we haven’t figured out yet, along with the start,” Kara said as if it was not an issue.

“But knowing there’s an answer that we haven’t figured out is calming.”

“As compared to thinking the universe can’t function unless we give it permission to?”

“I’ve done a lot of that, actually.”

“Giving permission?”

“Thinking I had to know or it didn’t exist. A side effect of trying to put the universe into boxes for analysis.”

“And you felt you needed to why?”

“Star Force needed answers, and if I didn’t find them I couldn’t expect anyone else to. Trailblazer problems.”

“See, I was totally opposite. I knew there was knowledge in my head that I didn’t have access to. I just had to dig it out over time. I was never the one in charge, and there were always more Easter Eggs to find.”

“Until you ran out.”

“I’m not sure I have. I’ve been over every facet of the programming and altered some of it to my liking, but those sneaky bastards instilled in me the instinct to always assume they have something else lurking waiting to manifest itself,” Kara said, waving at the next ship in line, then pausing her hand and extending her middle finger for a moment.

“I don’t see Vermaire,” Paul said deadpan.

Kara laughed and put down her arm. “How did Davis know to give us a practice OP bad guy?”

“He saw the strength of the V’kit’no’sat and wanted to teach us how to lose without crumbling, and how to learn from it. I think Vermaire was a little more enthusiastic than intended.”

“Well it worked. I still occasionally have nightmares…just not recently.”

“Replays?”

“No, just him running at me, me screaming before he hits me, then I wake up before the pain can register. It’s just pure fear, and it gets me every time my brain is shut down so much it doesn’t know better. I wasn’t the only one with those back then. You?”

“Nah. I just wanted to hit him, really hard, just once. A hit that would send him into the wall and crumple him. Never got that, but I did get a few satisfying thumps. He was just too big and heavy to move well.”

“No fear?”

“It’s funny, but after a while I was too focused and busy saving myself and others to feel it. Every second was spent figuring something out or working to improve. After I became an Archon I never had downtime. Sitting on a dropship my mind was always working on something. I didn’t have the luxury to fear.”

“Luxury?”

“I couldn’t be inactive enough to sit and soak in what was around me. I had to be the change agent.”

“We owe you guys a lot,” Kara said emphatically. “You did a lot of the heavy lifting for us.”

“You paid it back in spades. Jason may have died from the faulty Lachka development if you didn’t fix him.”

“Thank them,” she said, pointing at the ships. “As much as I hate to say it, their sticking this thing on my arm helped us a lot.”

“Not that arm though,” he reminded her.

“I will never forget that. And I will never forgive them for it. I wonder how many of their Zen’zat faced a similar fate.”

“I’m glad they’re leaving, but I also don’t like us dumping our trash in someone else’s yard.”

“The Neofan?”

“Whatever galaxy they end up in.”

“Hadn’t thought of it that way. They may end up doing this to some other poor bastards.”

“I don’t like leaving that hanging, but we can’t control them and we can’t conquer them. It’s out of our hands now.”

“Until later?”

“Part of me wants to write them off completely, but never say never. Unlimited lifespans can be a lot longer than you realize.”

“We don’t live in the past or future, we live in the now.”

“Another lesson I’ve had to relearn recently.”

“You’re just an unstable basket case, aren’t you?”

“The joys of growing. Stagnation is so predictable and boring.”

“You’re the one that marooned yourself onboard the Excalibur.”

“Thought I needed to. Now I know better.”

“Do you really?”

“I don’t actually like being plugged into the computer, Kara. I’m good at it, and it’s needed, but I prefer Commando work.”

“Haven’t seen you use a sword lately. That used to be your thing.”

“I like living or dying based on my skill more than relying on my team. A fleet is always a team. Sword play is just you and your opponents. A double blade doesn’t mean two people wield it.”

Kara giggled. “Did someone actually think that?”

“The joys of trying to discuss Star Wars with cheerleaders in study hall.”

“Do we still have those?”

“Which one?”

“I meant cheerleaders, but actually, both.”

“Davis nixed slave-based schooling when he created the original maturias. He made everything optional so people had to learn to be self-motivated or not advance. No fear-based progression. No drill sergeant scolding. No locking people in a room and telling them they study or don’t leave for an hour. Though to be honest, some of our study room teachers didn’t go for that either and let us do a lot of stuff the principal wouldn’t have condoned.”

“Such as?”

“Flipping pencils into ceiling tiles. Playing video games. Practice putting around desk legs.”

“I wish I’d gone to your school. We couldn’t even talk in our study halls, and if we put our head down to sleep we’d get a demerit. What about cheerleaders?”

“I don’t know if we have any or not. There are sex support clubs, but I don’t recall any cheering at events. They’d get in the way of the view of the spectators and take up room for additional seats. Plus, nobody needs to stare at cheerleaders when you have free nudes walking around the public areas to gawk at. Or the hall of statues.”

“Hall of statues?”

“You don’t pay much attention to Star Force civilian life, do you?”

“No, and I thought you’d pay even less.”

“I helped Davis design a lot of it, and our Clans were testbeds for different methodologies. So I occasionally browse how things have developed. Hall of statues are places where people go to stare at nudes who are locked into various poses. The viewers like the sight, and the posers like the stimulation of being exposed. Win/win. Kind of makes the lure of cheerleaders disappear.”

“I did not know about that.”

“They wear masks so they can’t see the people and the people don’t know who they are.”

“Did you ever do that?”

“Do you remember when some Archons started to incorporate a brief period of sex training to see how well they could stand up to it?”

“Yeah. Worst two weeks of my life after the initial euphoria. I forgot who I was and how to train because my body let go of stress management and just became a pleasure receiver. It totally wrecked my mojo. I never want to do that again.”

“You liked it when I kissed you?”

“I liked it during the two weeks too. It was afterward I realized how screwed up I was. Pun intended. Your kiss doesn’t seem to have any negative aftereffect.”

“Better not.”

“What did you do…back when that optional ‘addition’ to Archon training was added? I assumed you guys scoffed at it and said, ‘no fucking way.’

“We did at first, thinking it was just a product of weak minded second gens, but we also don’t like a potential weakness lurking unchallenged and a few of us decided to investigate for the others. Turned out to be a total waste of time.”

“You actually screwed each other? That’s a shock.”

“No, we didn’t. That would be a binary equation, and the training doesn’t work unless you can narrow down the reactions to just one person and adjust to their weak spots.”

“Makes sense. Hall of Statues?”

“That was my attempt. I didn’t want a simulation, and nobody gets pregnant from looking, so I figured I’d see how I responded to some sexual exposure.”

“And?”

“Nothing. The poses just felt stupid. I figured if being a visual sex toy didn’t have an effect on me, nothing else would be as compromising as others were worrying about. So that was the beginning and end of my experiment. The others went further before they realized how easy it was to override pleasure with a little pain, or just slipping into combat mode. If I ever meet a super powerful telepath that puts me in that situation, I’ll just envision Goku going Super Saiyan and I’ll be fine.”

“So you never let somebody press your buttons?”

“Not going to either.”

“So you’re saying I went through two weeks of that for nothing?”

“Ignoring sexuality may be necessary in a lot of circumstances, but you can’t just leave a portion of yourself unexplored. That’s a much bigger weakness, so if you needed to find out better you investigated…why is it we’re talking so much sexual stuff?”

“Isn’t that what boyfriends and girlfriends do?” she said, sipping on her drink. “Or is it that Archons don’t like discussions about stupid topics?”

“The topic isn’t stupid, but it involves stupid content. I don’t think I could even go on a normal date now. Everything would feel stupid and I’d end up just sitting there staring hoping some fight broke out nearby that I could intervene in.”

6

“I know what you mean,” Kara said. “What do you suppose they do? Asexual dating with the mirror?”

Paul looked at the ships full of Zak’de’ron, who reproduced via laying eggs that required no fertilization from another of their race.

“Not many races in Star Force are asexual, and I was never around to poke into their minds during the time. Didn’t read up on it either, so I don’t know.”

“But they’re supposed to be so advanced. I wonder if it really drives them or if they’re like you with no wood in the Hall of Statues…I still can’t believe that exists. Just go to a beach, almost everyone is naked there.”

“A lot exists, and a lot of stuff got banned as people found they could invent all kinds of things to explore that part of themselves. That stuff is a personal thing so doesn’t get publicized…or advertised. Our birth era was so messed up.”

“I don’t think people have learned…in general. They just go along with everyone else, and as long as Star Force is steering the ship a lot of trouble is avoided. But if they were born and transported elsewhere, would they be any better now?”

“Does it get imbedded in their genetics? Yeah, some does. But a mimic is a mimic. If you don’t pursue the truth, no amount of genetic knowledge is going to keep you from going off the rails. Our friends there are perfect examples. As advanced as they are, they do so many bad things. And when they’re taught to do bad things, they don’t reject it.”

“Or the ones that do are eliminated.”

“By others who go along with it. If the majority of people were inherently good, society would naturally tilt that way over time through attrition. But we don’t see that. We see it go the opposite way and descend into kill or be killed nature instincts. That tells me good people are rare, not the norm.”

“Wish I could disagree. Do you think the mimics or neutrals outnumber the naturally bad?”

“I haven’t encountered many who are naturally bad if you take genetic memory out of the equation. I think most are just people stuck into the universe with no idea who they are or what they are and they just go whatever way the wind blows. You and I turn into the wind if it’s pushing us somewhere we don’t like.”

“And they resent that,” Kara said, her jaw firming. “They don’t want anyone to think outside their boundaries. They actually fear intelligence that they can’t corral into the desired pathways. That’s why they put conditioning into my programming, and probably tried the same thing with your sword.”

“I still wonder what was in that thing,” Paul admitted.

“Count yourself lucky you didn’t find out. I guarantee there was some nastiness. They’re not nice to be nice.”

“So much for being advanced. They’re newbs with a lot of nifty toys, their bodies included.”

“How are the Les’i’kron doing? I rarely pay attention to anything I’m not personally involved with nowadays, and you’re involved in everything…”

“I don’t have a Zak’de’ron profile to compare with, but they’re far from what they used to be.”

“Good or bad far?”

“Good far.”

“Enough to replace them?”

“No. I don’t think so. There’s something about them that’s beyond our reach. I don’t know what. Maybe just my breast lust because they’re hiding theirs.”

“I did not need that visual,” Kara said as a spec flew across the horizon towards them. “We have company.”

Paul looked at her line of sight, but didn’t summon his armor to him to take a look. Eventually the dot appeared in his vision and flew towards them, with the Neofan landing just beyond Paul and Kara’s bare feet hanging off the end of their beach chairs and towering over them.

“Are you satisfied with the exodus process?”

“So far,” Paul answered. “Did they bring all their ships here?”

“We were told so, and we checked their minds finding no deceit.”

“What about their leader?”

“We checked his first.”

“He let you?”

“The Zak’de’ron are in our care now. They are our wards. They do not have independence.”

“And he agreed to that?” Kara pressed.

“There is much of the Zak’de’ron you do not know, that you are not meant to know, but I will tell you this. Their leader is broken, and broken by the twice betrayal of the V’kit’no’sat. They cannot navigate their own future, so they have entrusted us with it. We have ensured there is no duplicity with them, and they have agreed that any Zak’de’ron that stays behind will be killed if found.”

“What?” Paul said, sitting up.

“It was their decision, not ours, but we will be the ones carrying it out. They must all leave. That was our agreement.”

“We never negotiated a death penalty,” Paul said, crushing his drink in his hand with a shatter of glass-like polymer.

“It was negotiated between the Zak’de’ron and us, and does not include your Les’i’kron.”

“Why not capture them and send them with the others?” Kara interjected.

“Because the Zak’de’ron will kill them on arrival and the transport would be a waste of resources.”

“Some things never change,” she said, jumping up out of her chair and walking a few steps away out into the sand before kicking it multiple times with her toes and going into a string of expletives in Klingon, for of all languages those felt the best to bellow out when angry.

“They are all here,” the Neofan promised, “so there need be no point of conflict between us.”

“And if a few are missing?” Paul asked.

“We will find and eliminate them without your knowledge,” he said bluntly. “How we deal with their race is between us and them, not you.”

“We won’t stand for that.”

“As I said, there is no contention, for none are missing. They obey their leaders, unlike the V’kit’no’sat. They could not teach the obedience inherent in their race to others. One of many failings that we will show them how not to repeat.”

“Was there anything else?” Paul asked curtly.

“The amount of Essence you provided has been measured based on the usage of the ships passing through the portal. There will be a small amount of excess that we will return to your embassy. Is there anything else you wish of me?”

“Other than becoming one of the good guys, no, not right now.”

“Then our bargain is proceeding as agreed,” he said, taking a step backward then jumping into the sky and flying off in an invisible glow of Essence that indicated the flight was not fully a natural ability.

Kara let him get away, then she walked up to Paul and locked eyes with his taller face while pointing to the left at the Zak’de’ron.

“Let me blow up one, Paul. Just one before I go crazy.”

“They’re both advanced newbs,” he said, glancing at the departing Neofan before he grew too small on the horizon for even his advanced Furyan sight. “I just hope the Gahana aren’t in the same club.”

“Oh crap,” Kara said, putting her head in her hands and turning away as she considered that. “It never ends, does it?”

“No, I don’t think it does…” Paul said, looking at both the departing ships and the few Neofan ones standing by in orbit alongside them.

After many hours of not so polite discussion on the Neofan’s revelation, Kara settled down and returned to her beach chair and remained quiet as the Zak’de’ron ships continued to leave one at a time, with the joy of the moment now long gone.

“English teachers,” Paul said into the silence from his chair.

Kara frowned. “What?”

“English teachers. They suck the fun out of everything.”

“Which one?”

“The Neofan.”

“They’re not the ones leaving.”

“At least they’re only here in three spots.”

“If they wander out, do we get to kill them?”

“I supposed I kinda bought into the idea that we were rubbing off on them somewhat. Guess they’re just playing possum out of their need for residence.”

“We got the Boos’mo away from them. And they don’t have any slaves here. But less darkside is still darkside. I just don’t understand how people can be so stupid to cling to the darkside when they have other options.”

“I could just remind you that most people are not good, but a theory that Jason had was that they were just lazy.”

“Lazy?”

“Pulling a Braum and jumping into harm’s way to protect strangers isn’t exactly the easiest route.”

“Route to what?”

“I don’t know. Honestly I don’t know what our objective is.”

“Be the good guys?”

“Can you define that in a way that people who aren’t inherently good can comprehend it?”

“You’re part Vulcan, aren’t you?”

“Is that a no?”

“It’s a no.”

“The Gahana spoke of a mission. I’ve always felt there should be one, and crossed paths with it briefly at times, but it always slips away. I can’t keep a grip on it.”

“What times?”

“Action. Sitting and doing the Vulcan analysis leaves me oblivious to it.”

“So why’d you sit on the Excalibur for so long?”

“It has a Sanctum on it,” Paul reminded her.

“You felt your mission during workouts?”

“On occasion, but usually it’s in the act of badassery.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Well I can, and it’s when I get ticked…like right now. Stopping these bastards is what we’re meant to do.”

“And afterwards?”

“I’ll let you know then.”

After that there was a little talking off and on, but mostly they just sat in silence and watched the remaining ships leave. When it got down to the last few dozen, both of them stood up from their reclining positions and walked out onto the hot sand a bit fully taking in the moment. Shortly the Zak’de’ron would be gone, and they’d never see another of their ships again.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Kara said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I want them gone, but I want to kick their ass and make sure they don’t hurt anyone else. And I can’t comprehend not seeing them again. Unfinished business I guess.”

“I’m just glad they’re out of the foreseeable queue. We have enough to deal with in the near future.”

“I can’t let it go at that.”

“Want to fly up there and punch a few on the way out?”

“I’m not joking, Paul. This feels wrong.”

“Bad guys running loose anywhere feels wrong. This clears the field so we can save all their former slaves…which we’ve already done, but them leaving is why it was possible.”

“Yeah. I know the logic. But being this close to them as they’re about to slip away compels me to do something.”

“In a moment when they’re gone and out of our reach, you’ll feel a relief.”

“So I just close my eyes and sing songs until that happens?”

“You never saw him again, did you?”

“No. I didn’t,” she said, referencing Zeno’dor. “I wonder if he’s in the last ship or already through.”

“You can send a comm and ask.”

Kara growled. “No. Better to let them go. But I still hate it.”

“Well, you won’t have to stew very long. Only 3 left.”

“Can you see them inside the ships?”

“With Essence? No. But I can feel their minds faintly, as one giant blob.”

“I can. Just a little pulse is enough for reflectivity. A few are a lot brighter than the others.”

“Essence users?”

“That’s what I’d guess.”

“Have you been doing that the whole time?”

“No, just off and on.”

“Looking for Zeno’dor?”

“I don’t know if he can use Essence or not.”

“But he’s older, so his Essence level might be higher?”

“Just watching. They’re packed into those ships tight.”

“See anything other than Zak’de’ron?”

“Anything smaller and I wouldn’t notice,” Kara said as one of the ships disappeared into the portal. “Somebody out there is going to pay for this. For us not stopping them here,” she added gravely.

“We can’t control everything, but I don’t disagree. They’re not going lightside.”

“Agreed,” she said, waiting in silence as the second ship approached the portal, dipped inside partway, then the whole thing disappeared with a pop of displaced air that dissipated long before it got to them.

“Last one,” Paul announced, feeling the moment arrive. Not good or bad, just a massive transition for the galaxy.

Kara glanced down at her wrist and the jewel there, wondering if any last minute surprises would pop up before they left…or because they left…but nothing was happening. She looked back at the last ship as it slid into the portal and saw all the little Essence reflections as she sent out a series of pulses.

Then in a fraction of a second the ship disappeared along with all the little invisible lights.

Save for one.

7

“Paul…” Kara said distractedly.

“Relief?” he asked, still staring at the empty portal as the spherical Neofan ships above began to move away back to wherever they were normally parked.

“Paul,” she repeated. “One didn’t leave.”

“Where?” he said, all levity dropped.

“My sensors see nothing, so he must be cloaked, but there’s someone there flying in the direction of our embassy.”

“Straight route or around the curve?”

“Around the curve.”

“How powerful are you?” Paul asked.

Kara frowned, then caught on a moment later. “I can power it. But what about the embassy?”

“We have to get to him before they realize.”

“They may be able to see him the way I have.”

Paul looked up at the warships, seeing them still moving away as he telekinetically pulled his compact armor cube from underneath his beach chair over to him. It hit on his right arm and wrapped around it into a large gauntlet that he used to scan the surrounding area. “Nothing yet.”

“Small portal or large one. Those are the only ways out.”

“Let’s get him before we have to fight our way out.”

“The big ones aren’t designed for passenger containment. If he doesn’t have environmental armor we’ll have to bubble it.”

“This is only going to get worse if we wait…unless you want to give him up?”

“I hate their scaly assess, but I’m still lightside. If they’re not actively being bad guys they have a right to live. As soon as we move they’re going to see us.”

“Your null field?”

“They can see the spot if they’re looking. I’d prefer you to come with me and just race this.”

“The longer we wait the further he gets from the portal.”

“Ready boyfriend?”

“Ready girlfriend.”

“Whistle up Azoro or he’s gonna get left behind,” Kara said, her bikini suddenly being covered by crystals as her jewel exploded outwards in volume to cover her entire body, but Paul shot off into flight first, with his armor staying on his arm. Kara began to catch up quickly, then Paul connected to the Saiolum to see if he could find the invisible Zak’de’ron before he got within his own Essence range.

As soon as he did the fountain of energy became immediately visible amongst the non-living air, despite the range. Paul’s skills had developed more than he’d thought.

He angled for the location and accelerated harder, with Kara flying a couple meters to his left and just out of his wake, but the Zak’de’ron was moving quickly as well, and away from them at an angle.

Paul gave his telepathy an Essence boost and sent a straight line emission towards that lifeform ahead of him in as narrow of a cone as he could manage.

Zak’de’ron, this is Archon Paul-024. I can see your position. Redirect to me immediately if you seek sanctuary. If you do not, be aware that the Neofan have a deathmark on any Zak’de’ron not leaving with the convoy.

No response came, but the individual did alter course, swinging around in a tight bank and heading directly for Paul.

“Oh shit,” Kara said, suddenly getting a telepathic communication to her alone. “It’s Pol’ake. The Zak’de’ron that went with me to the Core.”

“He talking to you?”

“Yeah. Says the darkside has failed too many times. Wants to give the lightside a try.”

“Does he know about the deathmark?”

“It was the Zak’de’ron’s idea.”

“And he’s willing to risk it? Maybe you rubbed off on him.”

“Or maybe it’s all a ploy. I wouldn’t put it past them. But he is scared. I can feel it.”

“Tell him to head for the portal. We’ll meet him there,” Paul said, adjusting course slightly. About halfway there he finally picked up contacts on the horizon. Not ships, but Neofan flying in formations from their nearest outpost. Usually they used barges, but these were coming superman style.

“Are we mouthing off, daring them to a fight, or pretending we don’t see them?” Kara asked.

“Third option. Pol’ake is going to get there first. Can you go any faster?”

“I’m a Jinx,” she said, stating the obvious. “I was matching you.”

“Match this,” Paul said, using his armored gauntlet to strengthen his own deployed bioshields that were cutting the air in front of him in a fiery ball of friction already. Once he had that extra layer on his shield needle, he grabbed the Saiolum currents that were mostly calm and pulled on them as much as he could…shooting himself ahead of Kara like a missile.

She responded shortly, pouring Essence into her Yen’mer in addition to her armor’s anti-grav in an attempt to catch him, but it wasn’t easy. He was getting a big speed boost, but she managed to almost pull even just before they reached Pol’ake, who was now hovering invisible just beyond the edge of the giant ring-building set into the surface of the Temple.

Kara braked better than Paul did, with him overshooting the Zak’de’ron a bit, though Kara came to a stop just in front of him, seeing his Essence outline as well as his mental position.

“The Neofan are coming, so let’s make this fast,” she said, opening up her siphon fully and throwing Essence down into the portal receivers after using her Vorch’nas to prod it with the activation codes Star Force had for all of the Temples. “We’re getting you out now and handle the details later, but this better not be some trick.”

“Not this time,” he said in English. “I have betrayed my people, and I will not live if they or the Neofan catch me.”

“Why take the risk?”

“I do not wish to live as a slave.”

“What is your agreement with the Neofan?” Paul asked, catching back up from his overshoot.

“The Zak’de’ron become their apprentices, and if we rise in power as expected they leverage us against the rest of the Bond of Resistance to break the power equilibrium and tip it in their advantage. The Veloqueen and Denogi wish to survive the Hadarak, the Neofan want to conquer and supplant them, but they need the Bond of Resistance to do it. The promise of a position of power in exchange for becoming their effective slaves now is abhorrent. My race has lost its mind.”

“And Zeno’dor?” Kara asked as she strained to pour as much Essence into the portal as fast as she could to reach the amount required for the shortest trip possible to another Temple not owned by the Neofan. It scanned them, measuring their mass to determine how much was required, and Kara informed it that all three would move simultaneously.

“He is not who he once was. His wisdom is gone, and he remains in seclusion. No one sees him but a rare few, and they may be manipulating him, yet no one is questioning the evacuation or the terms. They want to leave this site of shame.”

“And you don’t?” Paul asked.

“I don’t like leaving a good fight behind. Though I can’t contribute much, I will assist you against the Hadarak as I am able.”

“Able how?” Kara pressed.

“I brought datafiles and tech seeds. And I am willing to give you eggs to put into your maturias. I hold nothing back. I have no place with those that have left. I am ‘all in,’ Archon Kara,” he said, citing a game reference she had previously taught him.

“Do you know how to take the Vorch’nas off?” she demanded, her voice straining as her body was almost convulsing from the Essence transfer and the disruptive effect it had on her.

“I know how to create a false signal to prevent the poisoning from taking place, but there was no method created to undo the cellular alteration. It was fashioned so it couldn’t be undone, even by us. If you wish to remove the Vorch’nas I can do so, but you will have to carry another device of your manufacture to continually transmit the disarming mechanism.”

“Well that’s worthless,” she all but spat.

“I looked,” he attested. “I cannot change what they did.”

“Kara, any time now,” Paul said, seeing the Neofan flying towards them had increased their speed greatly and were only a few minutes away.

“I’d tell you to help, but you don’t have more than a few drops to offer.”

“You have them if you need them.”

“Save your Magicite in case we have to fight.”

“Are we?” Paul asked.

“Almost there. Get him in position.”

“You need me over the interior?” the invisible dragon asked.

“Yes,” Paul said, pointing as he flew up next to him, sensing his body with his Pefbar that the cloaking field couldn’t affect. As he did so Paul contacted the Star Force embassy using the most secure encryption he had, explaining the danger and the helplessness of the situation if the Neofan decided to move against them.

“Pol, how long can you survive in vacuum?”

“Weeks in my armor.”

“Good. Paul, go with him. I’ll stay here and deal with the Neofan.”

“Yeah right.”

“If there’s going to be a fight, I’m the Jinx. Get him out of here.”

No, run, Azoro said as he suddenly reappeared in Paul’s mind. They are after the Zak’de’ron, not you. They do not wish to jeopardize your agreement, so they will not engage you. They will only attempt to kill him.

And if we stand in between?

They will go around or strike through you. If you escape now, the embassy will not be targeted, but they will try to track him down and kill him later. Their thoughts are clear on the matter, and they have received strict orders on how to proceed. The Neofan will not endanger or break either agreement, and will honor both through whatever means possible, even if they must wait to kill him years later.

“Wonderful,” Paul said, telepathically letting Kara in on the revelation.

“Fuck,” Kara said, still straining. “Paul, you’re going to have to finish the dialing. They’re trying to override and we’re going to have to do it multiple times. I can’t think right now.”

“You going to pass out?”

“No,” Kara said, suddenly slumping her shoulders as the interface with the portal Paul just connected to indicated the receiving amount of Essence was now met, but the coordinates were changing to another Temple too far away, causing the portal to signal it needed more Essence.

Paul changed it back to the intended one, having to go through the drill multiple times and very fast before it finally stuck. The Neofan might have been powerful in Essence, but with regards to mental interfacing with computer systems, they couldn’t match Paul’s connection speed when he was physically on location and they were transmitting from who knows what distance.

The interior of the ring that was covered in more desert suddenly disappeared as a shimmering pool covered it all. Paul extended a thin shield around himself, Kara, and the Zak’de’ron so the portal would register them as a single ship, then he pushed the others through, telekinetically locking onto them to produce a fixed object, then when they were halfway in the portal snapped the encapsulation around them and dragged them into the Essence realm.

Paul watched as the ghost-like structures of the Temple moved them around and into position on one of the main launching platforms visible only in the glowing light of Essence. He wondered if the Neofan had some sort of override or redirect, but the moment came when they were launched away at dizzying speeds and the glowing framework of the Temple shrank and disappeared behind them.

“Sit still and wait,” Paul told the Zak’de’ron over the comm now that there was no air around them, for Paul’s shields weren’t designed to hold the air in, just block incoming attacks or high speed objects. That way they wouldn’t draw much power over what was supposed to be an 18 hour and 22 minute journey. “We’re ballistic now.”

The cloaking field dropped, revealing gray-scaled armor covering the dragon’s body from tail tip to nostrils.

“Thank you,” he offered. “I did not know Kara was here, nor you, or I would have come to you directly.”

“We weren’t exactly hiding,” Kara said, blinking heavily inside her helmet as her body was quite loopy after having that insane amount of Essence pour through her so fast.

“I was lucky to get off my ship without the others detecting me. I knew the location of your embassy. I did not think of looking for anything else. How did you defeat my cloaking device?”

“Your body’s Essence is mildly reflective, even if you do not use it. I was counting how many were onboard your ships, then they all left and one remained behind.”

“Then the Neofan knew I was there the entire time,” he said with obvious frustration.

“Maybe, maybe not. You have to look, though they may have powers beyond me. You got lucky. And you owe us.”

“I am here to help and to learn. You have grown larger, Archon Paul.”

“Noticed that, did you? Secret stuff, so don’t ask. Why come to us?”

“Your lightside philosophy has become the dominant power in the galaxy…”

“And you guys live and breathe dominance.”

“Zak’de’ron do. Those that left…I do not know what they are now, but they are the true traitors. We held responsibility for this galaxy, then we abandon it when fortune is not with us. True rulers must weather the harsh times if they are worthy to rule during the good ones.”

“Is this going to be a long trip?” Paul asked Kara, referencing that he couldn’t go anywhere to get away from the conversation if he wanted.

“Very,” she confirmed. “He likes to talk a lot.”

“Then you talk and I shall listen,” Pol’ake suggested.

“You holding us together?” Kara asked Paul.

“Yeah. You need a nap?”

“I need a coma. Tap on my helmet if you need something. I’m shutting off the comm. You two discuss the ways of the Force and why the Sith suck. I did my instruction on the way to the Core.”

“Night,” Paul said, letting her skip out of the banter, but he wasn’t going to tell the Zak’de’ron to just shut up. If he had a chance to learn, then someone had to deconstruct his bad habits…plus, Paul wanted to discuss other matters. “Alright, Pol’ake. Tell me the story of the Zak’de’ron starting when you were hatched and everything that’s happened since. I’ll jump in whenever I spot a mistake made.”

“And explain how the lightside would have done better?”

“Exactly. Unless you have a better place to start.”

“I will start wherever you wish,” the dragon said as he began to lay out the basic structure of Zak’de’ron society and how hatchlings were integrated into it.

He’s not hiding anything, Azoro told Paul. He’s on the crux of a personal tragedy, and you are his one and only lifeline. He’s desperate for a path to legitimacy while the rest of his race abandon what they were and pledge fealty to the Neofan in an attempt to vicariously live off their power and prestige.

If he lies, let me know immediately.

Unlike you, I don’t sleep, and I can’t see anything unless you bring it up in conversation. So please, get him to explore as many subjects as possible. If there are correlations between them and your Furyan advancement, I’d like to explore them. But I suggest you record everything, for my memory is very good, but not perfect.

You find anything good?

Plenty, and not enough. I need you to press certain areas when I tell you.

Paul flicked on his armor’s comm log recorder and set in to hear dragon tails, and boy did he ever get some. Kara wasn’t joking earlier, for Pol’ake truly did love to talk…and talk…and talk…

8

January 23, 154965

Solar System (Home One Kingdom)

Earth

Davis was once again confined to his office most of his days. Aside from training he very rarely went anywhere else other than his quarters. So much was in motion that he didn’t feel the luxury of getting outside Atlantis into the planet’s air or down beneath the oceans for some change of scenery. Nor did he walk throughout Atlantis and utilize the recreational options there.

No, Davis was in full-on Director mode ever since his brief break with the trailblazers, but since they’d gone off to war he was left alone again with no more ass kickings to struggle through…and to be honest, he sort of missed it.

Lord Daegan had done a decent job in his stead, even finding a few areas to make improvements on, which had been a bit of a surprise. That quickly resolved into a facepalm moment as he copied one of the more mundane inventions the trailblazers used on a regular basis.

Their message board.

Normally, it was assumed a higher ranking Monarch would know everything and more than a lower ranking one. So when Davis came across a problem that none of the others could solve, he didn’t think about asking other lower ranking Monarchs for input. With Daegan’s chance to peruse through Davis’s own ‘wanted list’ of unsolved problems, he’d realized they weren’t all carbon copies of each other, and in fact were more varied than the trailblazers who were basically carbon copies of each other.

They’d been meant to be, and recruited as such, but they still used their message board to bounce ideas back and forth rather than assuming nobody else could figure out something they couldn’t.

And for the life of him, Davis didn’t understand how he’d missed this Monarch application for all these eons.

He’d recently corrected that, and created a short list of Lords, Grand Dukes, and a few promising Arch Dukes that had a decent enough handle over their territories that they could spend some time chasing other challenges. Davis had experimented in throwing some of his ‘wanted list’ at them, and over the course of the past 17 months he was pleasantly surprised that 8% of that list had been deleted with solutions that he had not considered.

Likewise, those on the list had also started sharing amongst each other problems rather than going straight up their chain of command with it. Davis usually stayed out of those discussions unless everyone was stumped…which was rare…and he was finding that they were coming up with ideas that he would not have. Partially because their ideas were inferior to his and he knew better ways to get certain things done, but every now and then a good idea would surface that he was happy to steal, and he continued to kick himself for not copying this aspect of the trailblazer’s playbook earlier.

He figured it was a side effect of him having built the Star Force Empire from scratch and always being at the tip of the Monarch spear with all of the members having been hand chosen by him because they understood his way of doing things…which wasn’t really his way, but the accumulated META after millennia of trial and error.

‘META’ was a term he’d picked up from the trailblazers, and it came from videogames referring to the ‘Most Effective Tactics Available’ or ‘Most Effective Tactics At the moment.’ No one really knew what the term had begun as, but the impetus was clear. You didn’t have a universal playbook to follow, so you had to learn as you went, and when you did and shared notes with others, you developed a consensus as to what was most effective, and Davis had thought he was the one producing any advancements in it on the Monarch front.

But the view from the top was different from the view from the side or from below or behind, and as the old saying went, truth was a cube that you could not view more than 3 sides of at any given time. And it seemed his fellow Monarchs, having different vantage points, were able to spot things he couldn’t unless he spun the cube around and lost vision on what he was currently working on.

And that’s why he couldn’t take time off, go on vacation, or browse random projects. The side of the cube he was locked in on was the warfront and supplying it. He couldn’t let that go to someone else so he could work other angles, and now he was realizing he didn’t have to. Others could figure out some things he couldn’t, and that was the first real sense of relief he had felt in far too long.

He didn’t have to hold up the Monarch tent anymore as the single pole. Star Force had become multi-poled, and he hadn’t realized how tall some of those other poles had reached until he started throwing out problems and seeing how they reacted to them…even when they couldn’t figure out most of the wanted list…but then neither could Davis…yet.

His list of Monarchs…which he now referred to as the ‘Round Table’…had recently been let in on the existence of the Furyan manifestation in the trailblazers and potentially more in the second gen, though they hadn’t ventured there yet. He explained what had happened, what they had planned in terms of reproduction, and basically told them to figure out applications and the best way to utilize the now theoretical Furyan Faction as a way to glue the Empire together further or any other potential benefit.

Davis got more clarification questions than suggestions at first, but then the discussions began and he could read all of it, for it was one giant open forum under high encryption. Only those who had the encryption could read it, and those codes were hand delivered by couriers rather than transmitted, because all data in Star Force was spread to all star systems and ships. Even a direct message from one person on a planet to another in a neighboring star system was copied and sent out everywhere.

That seemed ridiculously burdensome on data storage to many, but Davis knew there was a deeper wisdom in it. If a message was sent by courier only and was lost, nobody would know it was lost to send it again. Same way if a transmission got scrambled or blocked. Sometimes interstellar comms would not get through the seeming vacuum of space because there was a lot of stuff floating around in between the stars that could soak up or deflect a signal. The major spacelanes had been more or less cleared, and that’s where most of the comm signals traveled, but a ship could intersect a piece of that signal, some passing rocks more, a bit of nebula, etc.

But if you sent it out everywhere, in all the primary spacelanes, with an identification stamp, it would work its way around the network and the missing transmissions would fill in from the backside assuming a system had more than a single comm link to another, and Davis made sure all systems had at least 7 routes of signal going out. That was standard procedure, and if 6 of those were blocked, the last one would be enough to get the message packet through, downloaded, and transmitted back out on the other 6 not knowing if they were blocked or not.

That way a few problems could not stop message propagation, but a large amount of blockages could still prevent it from reaching some areas…included targeted disruptions in times of war. Fortunately the Hadarak didn’t fight that way and hadn’t gotten past the Grand Border, but Davis had also been quietly creating secondary comm networks that no one knew of for redundancy sake, though most of those had been scaled back in resources due to the war sucking up most material.

Davis didn’t cancel the projects, or others, they just got slowed down a lot. Including adding Grid Points to the transit system. He needed more. A lot more. And the things were damn expensive to make. He still marveled at the Bond of Resistance’s ability to create even a single Temple, given how massive an undertaking that was, let alone the thousands they had in this galaxy and others, plus the support networks.

Their strength was still unknown, despite what they’d learned about the Neofan and from the Neofan, and Davis really wanted to start trying to rise to their level on a construction basis, but he couldn’t. Warships and drones were far more important now than Grid Points and other big infrastructure. But he knew better than to cancel the projects. Better to let them creep along over time considering there was no fixed end to this war. They could be stuck in a quagmire indefinitely like the Bond of Resistance was, and if he waited on these projects they would get nowhere. So he had them running in low resource mode, making slow but steady progress across the galaxy.

And therein was the trick of being a Monarch. You had to keep building to the future even while dealing with the immediate demands of the present. And integrating the Furyans into Star Force was one such project that he wanted to get as far ahead of as possible, for what they would become was still a wildcard. They would not all be Archons, he knew that, but what happened when you put a normal person in a body designed off of trailblazer badassery?

Davis didn’t know, but he wanted a plan in place before the first maturia started up. And he wanted that plan in multiple dimensions with contingencies. This was not something they could let blow up in their face, nor could they let it be underutilized. Wilson would take care of the first part, he had faith in him to handle whatever came, but the second was up to the Monarchs more than the trailblazers. Integration into the rest of the Empire was the key, not the construction of a standalone faction to increase their overall strength.

Davis was perusing the Round Table’s latest delayed responses that were coming from across the galaxy at different rates when a priority message popped up bearing Paul-024’s marker. Davis had assigned key personnel visual symbols that he could recognize at a glance rather than having to read numbers, though the trailblazers’ numbers were so short it hardly mattered. Still, as the Empire had Factions with their own symbols, Davis’s most valuable personnel also had them as far as his personal comm system was concerned, though no one else knew about them. It was just a form of shorthand he used, and whenever Paul’s came up he immediately stopped what he was doing and checked it out, regardless of the priority level indicated.

His jaw dropped when he heard about the death mark the Zak’de’ron and Neofan had put on any dragon that didn’t leave the galaxy, knowing that was going to require an immediate threat from Star Force delivered through their ambassadors to the three Neofan Temples. Star Force would not tolerate any such thing, and they needed to know it even if all the Zak’de’ron left as expected. This death mark was a slap in the face to the relationship Star Force had built with the Neofan thus far, and he sensed it was designed as just that. A theoretical situation that Star Force would not tolerate as an assertion of the Neofan of their perceived dominance without coming into actual conflict with Star Force.

It was an inch taken, seemingly innocuously, but Davis was too experienced and wise to miss the implications. For inches taken here and there could eventually add up into miles. And while a mile taken immediately would be an obvious cause for conflict, taking it the slow way would beguile many into a sense of peace thinking these advancements were just misunderstandings or unimportant enough to trigger a conflict now.

Davis hoped the rest of his Empire was not so gullible, but since he was leading it there would be no mistake of how to respond…which would be immediate and firm. Star Force had claimed the mandate for this galaxy, not the Neofan, who had barely fired a shot in this war except where they found it convenient. Davis knew they were continuing to increase their population, building cities, factories, and warships they did not try to hide…all being draw from resources from this galaxy collected from the fringes by the Temple support networks.

Their strength increased while Star Force’s was being chewed up by attrition in the war. Though the Neofan here were far, far away from being in a position to challenge them militarily, their Essence weapons had never been seen fully used, and Davis doubted that what the Vargemma had from the Temples was the best technology available to the Bond of Resistance.

And right now all the Neofan had to do was wait. If Star Force lost, the galaxy would be purged and the Temples left behind undiscovered. Then the Neofan could stay safely inside until the Hadarak withdrew, then come out and claim the outer rim for themselves after the life springs sparsely repopulated it.

Davis suspected that was their backup plan, or perhaps primary plan. Star Force actually holding back the Hadarak had been seen as impossible or unlikely by other members of the Bond of Resistance, but House Atriark had never been so negative of their hosts, always encouraging them with a heavy dose of skepticism, but giving them technology and intel that had been useful. They had earned their refuge here while most of the other Houses lost the majority of their population as their previous galaxy Utovi burned under an ongoing Hadarak and Apocalypse Monster assault, though the latter was now far more interesting given when they’d learned from Azoro. Still, it wasn’t finished and wouldn’t be for millennia, and even now many Neofan were dying as they were left behind under orders of their ruling House.

Atriark was the only other House that had gotten the majority of their people out, but had been essentially banished to this galaxy for it in a negotiated endeavor. Davis would have made the same choice in their place, and even now a message was being sent to Utovi through the Neofan’s associates telling various slave races that they could seek refuge with Star Force if they could get themselves here, for the routes out of Utovi were not jammed except those seeing the shortest distance to travel to Yenoiv, the new home of the Neofan civilization that they’d taken from the Hadarak in what was reported to be a significant achievement that few could compare with.

If the reports weren’t bullshit then it was significant, and it meant the Neofan either had larger numbers than Davis thought, or their Essence weaponry was far more impressive than Star Force’s…and he expected the latter. If they were leaving people behind, then their numbers could not have been so impressive. And the fact that they’d cut right to the heart of Yenoiv coming in from the Rim and fought the Hadarak in their strongest position and took it from them…well, such strength was rare, and with it would probably come an ego equally as large. And this little shark bump of a challenge to the lightside philosophy of Star Force…after knowing they had engaged in a short war with the Zak’de’ron over this very issue of death marks…did not seem too crazy to be genuine.

It was the first move in a very long chess game, and Davis had to stomp on it immediately.

He came to that conclusion before finishing Paul’s message, only to discover that their theoretical situation had become reality. One Zak’de’ron had stayed behind, jumping ship as the last of the their fleet went through the portal enroute to another unknown galaxy. Paul and Kara had managed to get him out through the very same ship-sized portal, with Kara being said to have powered it personally.

That raised an eyebrow, for he hadn’t realized her output level had risen that high. It seemed all the Archons liked keeping secrets about their personal power levels until needed, which was a slight relief, because that would suggest others had abilities and skills laying in wait to be revealed when the time came.

But in this case they had been chased by the Neofan, and only their quick reaction had got the Zak’de’ron…the same one Kara had previous experience with, named Pol’ake…out before the Neofan could intercept. Azoro had read their minds and insisted they did not want a conflict with Star Force, but Paul was still requesting follow up with the embassy to make sure it was still intact and sovereign.

For if the Neofan wanted to murder everyone in it, they would have little resistance inside the Temple that they dominated.

Davis sent out orders to that effect immediately, calling for a confirmation of the state of all three embassies, as he finished reading Paul’s message. They’d taken the Zak’de’ron away from Temple Lambda Sefora, on the off chance the Neofan would pursue them to it in an attempt to assassinate Pol’ake, and had moved the dragon to one of Star Force’s larger Hycre systems. One with 12 gas giants in it called Zotopek, which meant a lot of room for the Zak’de’ron to fly around in his armor and very little ground for the Neofan to step on if they should be able to track him there, though that was very unlikely.

Paul was already heading back to the warfront, leaving Kara with Pol’ake and a very big frown, the trailblazer noted. The last bit of his message asked Davis what he wanted to do with the dragon, who was claiming to be fully open about everything Zak’de’ron, and also willing to produce eggs for use in Star Force maturias and not his own new colony.

After that a second message came through, also from Paul, with this one detailing the information Azoro had got for them from the other Zak’de’ron. It confirmed everything Pol’ake had told them, suggesting that he was trying to be honest and forthright…as odd as that was for a Zak’de’ron…but the intel went further than that. The Zak’de’ron had been thinking about what lay ahead, as well as what they were leaving behind. They’d told Star Force they were removing all their technology from their personal worlds in their last few years here, already having done so on the servant worlds that Star Force had already been given possession of, but apparently that hadn’t been the full truth.

The deconstruction of their most advanced technology had resulted in a treasure trove of natural resources…and they couldn’t take all of it with them. In fact they barely had enough room in all their own ships to hold the some 82 billion Zak’de’ron in their population.

That number shocked Davis. He had expected far fewer to ever have been in existence, especially after the V’kit’no’sat had found and killed so many in their most recent war. But apparently their bountiful list of surprises held a far larger population than expected, especially considering the size of the dragons compared to a Human. The Les’i’kron population in the V’kit’no’sat was only 538 million, and their opposite number in the Knight races, known as Charizards, only had 392 million. It took so much to feed, house, and maintain them that the larger races in the galaxy typically had smaller populations.

The same was true of the other V’kit’no’sat races, so 82 billion Zak’de’ron seemed almost unthinkable…as was their ability to cram them all into their ships along with the other treasures they were taking.

And there were many of those, but Azoro didn’t catch much thought of them unless they were on that specific ship. It was the treasures being left behind that were gnawing on them, hence they were thinking about them in full view of Azoro’s eavesdropping.

The resources they extracted from their planets’ infrastructure they refined down into 12-meter wide cubes…and then they dumped them in the nearest stars so Star Force wouldn’t have access to them. It was more spite than security, for all the advanced technology was destroyed, but now that Davis knew where it went, Star Forge’s could be sent to those locations and, even if it melted and spread to the winds, those stars would now have higher concentrations of it…meaning they would be good mining sites even if previously deemed of low value.

Davis knew they wouldn’t get all of it out, but they’d get some…and that some would be far easier to collect at the ‘trash’ sites than elsewhere, meaning Paul’s little trip with Azoro to snoop had already paid off, but there was more. Sites across the galaxy that held treasures that the Zak’de’ron wanted to get but never did, including many under Star Force’s own nose. Others were in Hadarak-held territory even before the purge. Azoro had put together a decent map based only on his memory, but thankfully the Ascended Sha’kier had impeccable mental retention.

Davis downloaded the treasure map and overlaid it on the much more robust map taken from the Maty, and saw that some locations matched up, but not all. Meaning that there was a lot in this galaxy that even the Gahana did not know about, and some big stuff too, but the most valuable items the Zak’de’ron could not take with them had not been destroyed…rather they had been loaded up on a fleet of servant ships and sent out of the galaxy on a trip that would take 1.3 million years to reach their destination.

And that destination was the Butterfinger galaxy.

It was called Wequo by the Neofan, but other than their presence there nothing was known about it…and it was close enough to the Milky Way that Davis had already named it otherwise. It wasn’t right next door, but not too far away…which is what the Director had expected given the amount of Essence required for this deal. He hadn’t known exactly how many ships the Zak’de’ron had, but he knew how much the portals took moving from Temple to Temple. Across galaxies would be different, but not radically so, he imagined. And his general guess had been right. They weren’t going super far in the Bond of Resistance network.

And if Azoro was right, this convoy was actually multiple ones so to increase the chances of at least one making it across the uncharted void between galaxies. And they had only been launched a couple of years ago…and from locations not on the very edge of the galaxy in case Star Force refused to honor the deal to provide the Essence, or could not because of war concerns.

That would leave the Zak’de’ron the ability to intercept and recover the convoys if the deal fell through, all the while allowing them to gather as planned without anyone knowing about the convoys of inferior ships being quietly sent toward non-usable jumplanes that extended out beyond the galaxy.

Davis whistled. That meant if he acted fast, Star Force could catch and claim those convoys for themselves…and the Zak’de’ron wouldn’t know about it for the next 1.3 million years.

He laughed out loud, sending a priority message to the Factions in that area of the galaxy who would have ships on hand and telling them to organize an immediate catch and recover operation, as well as requesting an estimated time of arrival…for if he needed to send Avenger-class ships that could go beyond the galaxy boundaries a bit using Essence-enhanced drives to make the catch he would, but otherwise those ships needed to stay in the war zone and in the few scattered locations across Star Force territory for defensive purposes in case other enemies manifested.

As for Pol’ake, he sent a message to Kara and Paul, telling them he wanted the dragon to come to Earth. He’d handle his future personally…

9

August 3, 154965

Itaru System (Novunu Region)

Wendigama

Mak’to’ran stood on the surface of Wendigama once again, and a piece of his memories ached in sympathy. The planet…all the planets in the system…were trashed. The original V’kit’no’sat structures were all gone, probably eradicated when the Zak’de’ron reclaimed it, and now all that was left was the remains of their rebuilt society.

Spires were everywhere, as befitted an avian race, but most had visible damage to them. Not from combat, but from scavengers. Pieces ripped apart next to intact segments in a chaotic pattern that suggested decay rather than defeat. Yet Mak’to’ran knew no scavengers had come to this system. The Zak’de’ron had it locked down until they left, and the Star Force fleet had taken possession of it in a very brief handover ceremony that he had missed due to the war. That meant all the scavenging done had been their doing…and all that they’d left behind was intentional.

It was a ghost planet from a ghost race, abandoned with the same disdain they held for this galaxy. Nothing of particular value was left, though the buildings could be reused if Star Force wished. Yet then they would be living in the footprints of those who came before them, and Mak’to’ran was pleased that was not the plan. The Zak’de’ron should have left them intact buildings or a blank slate with everything removed. Their leaving their stripped trash behind was an insult, but it was an insult that left building materials that could be recycled, and that was of some value.

The high end materials were gone, and many buildings had been stripped of them via nanites…meaning they still stood, but without the structural integrity they once had as the compounds were taken out of the support beams while they still stood. Mak’to’ran didn’t know how much that weakened them, but a few of the buildings appeared to have collapsed on their own, though most still stood in various states of disrepair.

All the technology was taken out of them…at least everything that Star Force might find useful. Mak’to’ran had been told some of it had been dumped into the stars to deny Star Force their conquest, while others had been spirited away for their use later in another galaxy. A task force had already been dispatched to try and intercept it, but that was not for Mak’to’ran to worry about. His place was fighting the Hadarak, or more accurately leading others in the fighting, but considering the uncertain nature of that war and the timescale involved, he felt he had to come here first and put to rest old business before fully dedicating himself to the future.

Wendigama had always been the capitol of the capitol, and the huge planet had been an inspiration to the V’kit’no’sat ever since the Zak’de’ron first brought them here. They had decided this would be the common center of their new empire, though it wasn’t the Zak’de’ron homeworld. He didn’t know what it was, actually, for the disclosure given to Star Force didn’t say as it listed all the worlds being turned over to them. Perhaps that was one secret they’d take with them, but to Mak’to’ran this world had always been about the V’kit’no’sat more than the Zak’de’ron.

It and the other planets and moons in this system made up a small empire of their own, and from it the power of the V’kit’no’sat had been projected elsewhere. No one would dare touch it, for it had been a deathtrap to any who attempted to do so. It was untouchable and undefeatable…then Eldorat had flown in and assassinated the V’kit’no’sat leadership right in the midst of such power, and nearly escaped with his victory.

Wendigama and Itaru had lost their power that day for Mak’to’ran…and he nearly lost his life. Some of his memories had been casualties after his severed head had been reattached to his body by loyal Zen’zat who still served him now in Star Force. And ever since that day the fate of Itaru had gotten worse and worse, reclaimed by the Zak’de’ron and never fully rebuilt. Now the few cities they had across each planet were reduced to this squalor.

It was insulting, but it was also the evolution of what had begun long ago. The V’kit’no’sat had been doomed to eventual extinction, despite how hard Mak’to’ran fought to prevent that, and now he knew why.

It was because they had been founded on a lie, and that shaky foundation could be eroded away by the truth. The Zak’de’ron tried to hide this truth, then later the Elder Council as well. The V’kit’no’sat races were never united in equality. Not with the Zak’de’ron, and not on their own after they thought they’d annihilated their former superiors.

It was odd that those who claimed equality the loudest were ironically those who lived it the least. Star Force didn’t claim equality at all, other than a basic right to live. Beyond that they were based on inequality of skill. The best led, the weaker followed, and the weakest were carried with no control over their fate outside the hatchling pens provided them. Might gave you power in Star Force, but it was true might. Not ego. Not inheritance. Not bloodlines. You had to earn your power, and no one could cheat their way up the ranks. And Mak’to’ran had found that in that environment, a bond formed unlike any other. For everyone walked a similar path, faced similar challenges, and if they rose to a certain level, were of similar merit.

Star Force’s Empire was based on the foundation of truth, and they clung to it proudly. Never covering up. Never suppressing. If they were challenged they gladly faced it, for if they did not deserve their accolades they wanted to correct that either by reassessing their correct standing or by training to improve to the point where they did deserve it.

The promise of the V’kit’no’sat had never been realized until they were absorbed by Star Force and remade, yet now they had equality based on inequality…or rather they did not have equality of position or power, but rather equality of opportunity. All had a pathway to rise. No one was blocked. No one was kneecapped. And no one was fast tracked without merit.

And that Empire had deemed Mak’to’ran worthy to continue to lead the V’kit’no’sat as a piece of its ever growing territory, and to take the brunt of the fight against the Hadarak…and they had not failed. Director Davis had given them a nearly impossible challenge, and they’d accomplished it. It was a bloody accomplishment, but not compared to how they once engaged the Hadarak. They had thrown more blood at the enemy than Tar’vem’jic blasts, and traded their people in exchange for a few Warden kills.

No longer. The losses they had taken building and defending the Grand Border were honorable ones. No one was abandoned. No one sacrificed. But they did stand up and take the hit for others…voluntarily…for it was the place of the strong to stand between the weak and the danger. That was the way of the warrior, and the V’kit’no’sat were no longer beggars for a true title. They had earned the mantle of warriors rather than the butchers and bullies they had been under Zak’de’ron rule and influence.

That influence was now thoroughly burnt out of them, and many generations of new V’kit’no’sat were now fighting alongside the older ones without ever having that taint upon them.

But Mak’to’ran remembered. Perhaps not everything, but he remembered enough. The universe had rewarded those V’kit’no’sat who stayed loyal to the promise of equal dominance of this galaxy with a twist of fate no one could have predicted. And now that he stood here on Wendigama, in the heart of Itaru, as what a true V’kit’no’sat should be, the memories of the past faded into irrelevant ash. The history of the V’kit’no’sat was not something to remember with honor, but a gauntlet they had to pass through to earn their place and many…no most…had not made it.

Yet those who did now stood immune to the corruption of the past and any future reincarnation of it. They were now incorruptible…a side prize for what they endured while still clinging to a shred of hope as the universe beat them up every which way possible. Mak’to’ran was a true V’kit’no’sat now, and he realized that Wendigama had never been their home. Merely a waypoint enroute to their home, the outer boundary of which was now the Grand Border, with their future territory to extend into the Core and not the Rim.

The denser sections of the galaxy were their destiny, while the older Star Force races inhabited the Rim. Mak’to’ran appreciated that, for it gave the V’kit’no’sat a chance to build their own future rather than inheriting someone else’s. What lay ahead he didn’t know, but the records in the Maty gave him a far better picture of what was actually in the Core…and it was literally a sea of monsters waiting to be conquered…honorably…but conquered none the less.

His future, and that of the V’kit’no’sat, was in endless battle. Endless glorious battle with the power of the lightside fueling their courage and steeling their nerves against the nightmare of what they had to face.

And they had to face it, for if they didn’t who else would? Who else could? And if they failed, countless generations would be born into a galaxy of nightmares they didn’t have the strength or knowledge to root out, for once the darkside got entrenched enough, its power was unstoppable until its internal strife caused it to destroy itself.

And those born during those countless eons were cursed. If they survived, and most wouldn’t, they would be forced to live darkside or to escape to some corner of the galaxy where it didn’t exist. Finding pockets of anonymity to try and find some sanity in with no hope of ever forming an effective resistance.

How Star Force had managed to survive the V’kit’no’sat Mak’to’ran still did not understand, despite knowing of the internal wrangling that had hampered the extermination efforts. But against the Hadarak as they stood now, the Star Force of back then would have been run over easily.

It was the duty of those who had the strength now, and the freedom to grow stronger in the lightside, to use their power to remove the hatching traps the universe sent others into and free them before they even entered this universe. That was his mandate now, and the mandate of the V’kit’no’sat. They fought to save those alive today, but the numbers that would be sent into this universe later would dwarf those currently here, so they were fighting more to clear the way for them to have a chance to choose their own fate rather than be locked in a no-win scenario by the ever present shroud of the darkside.

Mak’to’ran looked down at the bare dirt beneath his feet, for he was now beyond the cities and wreckage and out in the desolate areas that had once held V’kit’no’sat structures long since removed. They were empty now, and returned to the basic state the planet had been in before the V’kit’no’sat begun. Dust to dust. And had Star Force not intervened, the V’kit’no’sat civilization would have suffered the same fate eventually, through one form or another.

The Era’tran let out a long, deep sigh, accepting that he had succeeded in surviving the past and those challenges were now behind him, never to be revisited again. Likewise, Itaru was never again going to be home to the V’kit’no’sat. It had a new future now, and prior to Mak’to’ran arriving Star Force had already begun building colonies on all the worlds here, with three presently on Wendigama.

They were little more than construction colonies of Bsidd, Kiritak, and Paladin, all of which were ordered to spam their populations as much as resources allowed, for additional resources would not be shipped in from the rest of Star Force. None were available, so the reclamation of Itaru would be a very gradual one…though not so gradual as anyone thought if Mak’to’ran’s assessment of the three races here was accurate. The Paladin were the fast starters, able to reproduce population that could immediately be put into the workforce, but the Bsidd were unmatched in their ability to generate hatchlings, for their eggs were tiny and their queens could produce them rapidly on their own even without embryo cloning technology.

The Kiritak were not as fast, but they were as prolific. Their fleshy eggs could be produced faster than most races, but what they lacked in reproductive numbers versus the Bsidd they made up for in energy. Their metabolisms were so much higher they would literally run loops around the Bsidd as they worked…though the muscle power and size of some of the Bsidd variants was not matched by the Kiritak or the Paladin.

All three were powerful in their own right, but Director Davis had assigned them to this reclamation project together, testifying to how important it was. Mak’to’ran knew little of it, for he didn’t need to know, but the second individual to be bestowed with the title of ‘Reclaimer’ after the Voku Cal-com had been minted the first had told Mak’to’ran much in confidence, for he was a fellow Era’tran and old mentor named Hamob. Rather than fighting the Hadarak, he had been commissioned to reclaim Itaru for Star Force, and though Mak’to’ran didn’t know their full plans or potential, what Hamob had told him sent shivers down his spine all the way to the tip of his tail.

That was why the system was now off limits to travel. All trade routes diverged around it, and the Star Force Rammus Sub-Faction had been given patrol duty in the surrounding systems to intercept and turn away anyone approaching the jumppoints for Itaru. This system was now a black hole as far as information went, and even most Star Force vessels were not allowed permission to enter.

Mak’to’ran was the only V’kit’no’sat with such permission, but he couldn’t bring his own ship. It was waiting for him in a neighboring system, and the Rammus had brought him in on one of theirs. That’s how intense the security was here, despite the fact that nothing more than recycling and basic colony building was taking place currently…but in the distant future Itaru would become the birthplace of Project Furya, something that Hamob spoke of lightly and with great reverence.

The universe had given the trailblazers an upgrade. Mak’to’ran knew this already. But he hadn’t known the full extent of those upgrades…which were not all the same…nor what they planned to do with them.

The fate of this galaxy lay with Mak’tor’an, the V’kit’no’sat, the Varkemma, and the Rim Factions of Star Force. This was their fight to win or lose. Their destiny or fate to make, but the Director was wise beyond his years, and was looking towards conflicts beyond the Hadarak. Conflicts beyond this galaxy millions of years into the future and on a level of warfare that Mak’to’ran couldn’t conceive of yet…though his current fleet was something beyond what he could have imagined when he ruled here on Itaru. He had learned and advanced, and would again as the Archons and Monarchs showed him the way.

But Project Furya had its mandate in other galaxies, and had to overcome the challenge of holding together an empire of many galaxies without it crumbling under its own weight or suffering from the distances and disconnection involved, as well as continuing to incorporate thousands of new races every millennia and bringing them into the brotherhood of the lightside despite conflicts with their genetic instincts and cultural difficulties.

Hamob told him that a watering down of the lifeblood of Star Force would be its undoing unless a far greater number of Archons could be recruited, or unless they created a new glue to hold the Empire together. A glue with far greater numbers that could lightly spam across the universe binding all those they touched together in a common and replicable lightside culture and civilization.

Hamob had been tasked with reclaiming Itaru and constructing the cradle for a new Faction. One birthed from the trailblazers themselves in their newfound genetic upgrades.

And no one knew what would happen when they tried.

Hamob had confided that three races in this galaxy had a genetic code known to be ‘enlightened,’ and he used that word carefully, for it did not mean lightside or knowledgeable. It was meant to be a very high level of avatar for an individual to be hatched into. The Zak’de’ron were one such race. The Neofan were another. But the genetic tests on the trailblazers, now that Star Force medtechs were beginning to get a feel for what ‘enlightened’ really meant, were showing far higher marks. In loose terms assigned, Era’tran were a level 4 race. That wasn’t a guess or metaphor. It was based off primarily the brain structure and the way the body’s cells were formed, and what they were capable of.

Most races that could not speak were level 1 or 2. Others were level 3, as the Humans had been when they were primitives on Terrax. Star Force medtechs had eliminated a lot of junk from their genome and had got them back up to the level 4 of the Zen’zat since then, and all the original races in the V’kit’no’sat…not counting servants…were level 4 thereabout. The Zak’de’ron were level 7, which meant they had advantages the Era’tran did not, and had never known about, especially in regard to intelligence.

The fact that the V’kit’no’sat had managed to overcome and all but eradicate the Zak’de’ron in the first war was even more impressive now, but beside the point. If the individuals being born into that level 7 race were inferior or never bothered to develop themselves, the advantages could be overcome and surpassed by those individuals in other races that grew, but the average person would always be inferior due to superior inheritance of the enlightened race.

The Neofan were rated far higher than the Zak’de’ron, though no living Neofan had been tested. Only genetic material captured as it was cast off the owners, usually in terms of skin flakes. They were a level 14 race, and Hamob had said it was theorized that they knew an Essence technique to force the advancement procedure that had occurred accidentally to the trailblazers. That meant they were far smarter and more aware than anyone had considered them capable of being, and they probably played into that illusion quite regularly so they’d be underestimated when it suited them.

As it stood now, the trailblazers were measuring in at level 16, but no one knew what would happen when they reproduced. Hamob had said he’d been tested individually, not on the structure of his body and brain, but on his intelligence capability, and he’d rated a level 11 while the basic Era’tran avatar was a level 4. Which meant he was accomplishing far more with his ‘inferior’ genetics than the average Zak’de’ron was, and there was a question of how much the trailblazers were developed due to their individual progression or their new advancement. Where they at level 16 as a start, or were they carrying over their high level from their previous Human experience…and Hamob noted, they were accomplishing level 16 mental processes with tiny brains compared to Era’tran and Zak’de’ron, which meant the crude scale Star Force was now using probably wasn’t truly accurate as to level of genetic enlightenment.

But being good for your size didn’t mean anything in life when you had opponents of various size, so the scale being used was in output, and even with their smaller forms the trailblazers were rating higher than Hamob intelligence, the Zak’de’ron’s hidden skills, and the basic genetic code of the Neofan.

Star Force knew how to train level 3 and 4 races. They’d even done training on level 2s trying to advance them up to 3, with some success. But they were now undertaking the challenge of training possibly level 16 hatchlings…and nobody had a clue what that would be like, other than to look at the trailblazers themselves, all of whom were outstanding individuals. What would happen when you put an average person in their advanced bodies?

Hamob indicated there was a considerable amount of danger here, in a myriad of known ways and probably more unknown, so they were going to take Project Furya very slow and methodical, but it was being touted as the key to an intergalactic Star Force that could conquer and absorb other civilizations at whatever speed it wished, rather than having to wait for enough Archons to be minted in order to hold it all together, for even Mavericks were not seen to quite get what it meant to be Star Force 100% due to the fact that Star Force began as a Human culture. Even Hamob said that he and Mak’to’ran, while now fully Star Force, could not teach others to become like them the same way the Archons could. The Era’tran were converts, and many of the concepts were based off bipedal, straight backed, groundpounder philosophy of small size. And there was no way an Era’tran could see from that same perspective in its entirety.

He then told Mak’to’ran that the Director did not trust Humans enough to focus on them either. While culturally they had all the basic building blocks, leave them alone without supervision and they would stray from the path, slower than hive minded races, but they would still diverge.

But Project Furya had a race hopefully based off the Archons themselves, and therein lay an enormous potential that the Director intended to tap for whatever it was worth, but no one knew for sure what would happen. And if it ended up spawning bad guys in Archon bodies, the reproduction would end immediately and the project canceled, but Hamob was hopeful for greatness.

He wasn’t going to be leading the project. He was here to make Itaru a fitting home for this new Faction and to look after them as a caretaker. Others would be handling the training and development of the Furyans themselves, but on this dust of the V’kit’no’sat past he would build the foundation for a potential future of intergalactic conquest against the legions of the darkside on a scale that made his tail twitch with grandeur.

And Mak’to’ran’s as well. But before all that began he needed to say goodbye to the past and all those who had fallen along the way, both the honorable and dishonorable, and he did that now, alone, in the wastes of Wendigama in the confines of his own mind and memories.

When he finally left the planet, he let the past stay behind and headed for the Grand Border free of the pain and confusion of what came before. His path was crystal clear now. This galaxy was to be theirs, and there was much gruesome work to be done to make it theirs, let alone defend it against the hordes of Hadarak in other galaxies.

The Grand War the V’kit’no’sat had always dreamed about was before them, and from this day forward Mak’to’ran would think of nothing else. This was his destiny, and the destiny of the V’kit’no’sat, no matter how events played out.

His home was on the battlefield, now that he had finally found the right side to fight for.

And that side was the lightside…

10

September 21, 154965

Solar System (Home One Kingdom)

Earth

Davis received word that his special package had arrived in Atlantis, but he didn’t request it sent to his office. Big as it was, his tower wasn’t designed to hold the larger races in Star Force. In fact, it was very much built for Human or Zen’zat size, and so was most of Atlantis with a few areas that could accommodate larger races.

That might have seemed odd to outsiders who would wonder why the capitol city could only house some of Star Force’s races, but Davis knew better that size mattered and trying to put the smaller races into a confined space with the larger ones did not work well. Axius, which did this far more often than the rest of the Empire, still had two versions of itself. A small and large version, with Human-sized races being the boundary line between the two types of Axius cities…but in practice there were four. ‘Uppers’ and ‘Lowers’ is what they were referred to, and the denizens split up voluntarily in most cases to the match their sizes.

Humans could live in the Large Uppers along with Oso’lon, but those cities were designed for the massive sizes of that kind of race and had huge steps, long walks between buildings, and were far more spread out than many Humans preferred. Some still did choose to live there, but most didn’t, and the smallest of races like the Irondel were forbidden to live in the Large division.

Likewise Oso’lon were forbidden from living in the Small division due to the danger involved in stepping on the tiniest ones and accidentally killing them. The same was true of the Element Zones within Axius cities, where heat, air composition, and pressure were all variable, but not for an entire planet. Usually it was parts of big cities or an entirety of a small one.

Then you had Zones. Land was the base zone, with Air and Water being the other most common ones. Axius cities, when they encompassed large worlds, liked to have all three major Zones connected so denizens could interact along the boundaries, but while Land had a Large/Small division, Air had 4 of them ranging from Tiny to Massive, while Water had none. It seemed in the water the larger races simply had right of way to move where they wanted and the smaller ones swam around them, and since very few actually touched bottom, there wasn’t a risk of smashing each other in most cases.

Axius was a symbol of the complexity within Star Force’s social interdynamic, though most of the Empire was segregated through practicality. Sometimes there were pairings of races on planets that worked well together, and the V’kit’no’sat and Zen’zat were legendary for this, but in most cases every world was designed for one race plus Humans, for they were the glue that held everything together, particularly the Archons, and to a lesser extent Mavericks, though Mavericks tended to stay with their own races when missions allowed.

And there was a lot to do. The number of Bsidd worlds alone boggled the mind. They had expanded so far and increased in population so much that they were an empire within an empire, and Bsidd Mavericks could spend their entire lives inside that inner Empire with plenty to do, and the same was true of many others, but one would think that the Capitol of Star Force would have embraced the diversity within the Empire in its design…but no. That wasn’t the case at all.

Atlantis was designed now as it was in the beginning. It was the heart of Star Force, not a representation of it, and if your body functioned the way the masses assumed, your blood pumping organ would be made up of tissues from across your body ‘representing’ the whole…and in being constructed as such, fail to accomplish anything other than being a symbol. Your body would die from lack of blood flow as the pump wouldn’t function, and the same was true of Star Force.

Atlantis was the pump for the command structure, and while it was not necessary for the survival of Star Force due to the redundancy built into the Empire, it was necessary for a higher level of efficiency. And above that, it was Davis’s home. And one designed their home the way they liked, not by popular demand. And to be honest, nothing in Star Force happened by popular demand, something that Old Earth would have found very offensive in its legendary stupidity. Yet it was that stupidity that had birthed Davis and the trailblazers, giving them a plethora of problems and challenges to overcome before they even got to other worlds.

As such Davis’s panoramic office was designed for the medium races, and could accommodate the smaller ones, but not the larger. If he wanted to meet with an Era’tran, he had to go elsewhere in Atlantis, though in most cases he would just use holo communication. But in the case of avians he had another option built in.

With a thought command Davis had part of his office roof retracting down into a set of stairs that he walked upwards on, coming to the roof of his office that transformed into a deck with railing that normally wasn’t there. Upon it he waited briefly, then his ‘special package’ flew up in front of him, blotting out the sun momentarily, before landing on the far side railing after testing for its strength.

The dragon sat back on its rear legs with its front two in between them and all four on the railing wall as if it was a bird, drawing a raised eyebrow from Davis, for he hadn’t expected that much agility from him, for he knew the Les’i’kron didn’t possess as much.

“Greetings Director Davis,” Pol’ake said in English as his wings tucked up alongside his body and nearly disappeared into his gray scales. “I am honored by the meeting.”

“Why are you here?” Davis asked bluntly.

“You summoned me, I was told,” he said, confused.

“I mean why didn’t you leave with the others? The full reason, not just what you told my people. My telepathic skills aren’t small, but they are compared to the others you’ve met. That said, I have an innate sense about people, and you are duplicitous. No one else is monitoring us. There are audio dampening screens around this platform with visual haze generators. They can see us but they can’t see our mouths moving or other detail. It’s just you and me, Dragon. And if you want a future with us, it’s on the condition that you are as equally blunt with me as I am with you.”

“Dragon? You refer to your ancient stories. How odd.”

“Why are you here?” Davis reiterated.

Pol’ake slumped ever so slightly. “I am here because I have nowhere else to go.”

“Explain that.”

“The Zak’de’ron civilization has been nearly destroyed three times. You know of the more recent two, but long before any of us now living we were attacked and reduced to a scattering of planets. We do not even know the name of our attackers. They were not Hadarak. And we do not know why they attacked us. But they stopped before all of us were destroyed, and the few planets remaining lived in fear thereafter. Eventually they reconnected to each other, not having known anyone else had survived, and it was believed our enemy either thought us dead, or effectively so and didn’t bother to sweep away the remaining scraps. Far into the future when we formed the V’kit’no’sat to fight the Hadarak, our reasons were more selfish, for we also wished to have protection if this unnamed enemy ever returned to finish what it started.”

“Then the V’kit’no’sat betrayed us, and killed all save for Zeno’dor and the nest of eggs he protected. That should not have been possible. They should not have found all our other refuges, but they did, and we still don’t know how, for the V’kit’no’sat did not know how. Many were later taken and had their minds raided past the point of death to find the secrets they would not willingly give up, but no answers to how we were so effectively betrayed were ever discovered. By chance do you know how they did what they did?”

“I was told they captured some of you and dissected your brains to get the answers they wanted. Beyond that, I don’t know.”

“They could not have gotten enough from them, for most of our secrets were not shared with the same people. Regardless, now we had been all but destroyed twice, both with an element of mystery that prevented us from analyzing and eliminating the weakness that nearly doomed us. Then by nothing less than the universe spitting in our face, one of our own returns in the service of another galaxy and attacks the V’kit’no’sat, kills their leadership, and dies before we even know of the assault. We pay the price for something we did not do, and we fight a third war with a more or less even split, but the attrition done is nearly as lethal. Our leadership broke during that third war, in ways I cannot fully explain. And from them a sickness spread to the others. We harbor more of a hive mind than we like to admit, and I had to pretend compliance with the sickness else I would have been killed as others were.”

Davis frowned. “An internal purge?”

“A small one, but then again word of it was not well known, and it could have been far larger on other worlds, but on mine there were 3 I knew of personally that simply disappeared, and when I inquired I was told not to. We are unaccustomed to being told to turn a blind eye against anything. That is something we instruct servants to do, not peers, and I sensed danger in the order, so I played along, searching for what answers I could without asking others directly. I eventually came across this…”

A hologram emerged over Davis’s head, for the platform wasn’t large enough to display it between them as Pol’ake’s neck covered most of it, but the Director didn’t have to crane his neck up much to see the flat image of what looked like a child’s scrawling.

“Where is that from?”

“Ancient art stored in a vault from before the first Fall. It was remnants of worlds that were completely purged, for no world that was attacked survived to tell the tales. All we ever saw where their ships, and few who did escaped to report it. Comms were jammed before landing forces or orbital bombardment began, so we did not even know who was killing us. But I believe this art, recovered from a hatchery whose armored walls were thickest of all to protect those most vulnerable, depicts the attackers.”

Davis stared at the shadow-like silhouette scrawled in what could be charcoal on a synthetic panel. It looked Human, with two arms, two legs, a head, and an upright posture unlike an Era’tran or Rit’ko’sor. But behind this blurry drawing were sticks. Sticks growing up behind it like two trees with no leaves, and coming from behind each shoulder. And out of those sticks were jagged lines of bright yellow, depicting some form of lightning that struck and killed other drawings of what were obviously dragons.

“Do you see it, Director?” Pol’ake asked when he didn’t respond.

“I see it.”

“My race’s leadership is broken, and they are now forcing the rest to turn off their minds, destroy what pride they have left, and submit themselves to our former conquerors in some twisted sense of protection or a desire to gain the strength we lacked. It is madness, and those of us who did not likewise become poisoned with it were eliminated. My race has become a willing thrall to our past murderers.”

“Are there any records of the Temples in your history? Or contact with the machines that built them?”

“None.”

“Do the ships mentioned match the Neofan warships?”

“No, I have nothing that obvious, but given it was so long ago they may have changed their design. This drawing is enough to convince me, so I ask you now, bluntly, why would the Neofan try to destroy us then only to take us now into their Bond of Resistance? Assuming it isn’t a ploy to quietly finish what they started long ago.”

“I can only speculate on what they’ve told me, and I do know what is true and what is not, for they are liars as far as my sense of them goes. They have negotiated fairly and honestly with me thus far, but I do trust them or what they tell me in full, but they have stated that to operate independently of their race is a fate worse than death, and it makes them turn mad. That is why House Atriark had to get permission to set up in this galaxy. Had they not, they would have become outcast. So if the Neofan did attack the Zak’de’ron long ago, it was either sanctioned or by the insane, and the insane are hunted by the Neofan, so they scatter to the wind.”

“Most likely sanctioned then.”

“Did you know of the Hadarak at that time?”

“We have always known of them. They let most of the galaxy know of their presence through random attacks. We did not challenge them then. We did not have the strength.”

“What did your race do back then?”

“I know little more than myths, but one stated that we were not born of the air, but of the water. And in the water we were the anti-predator, maintaining dominance and allowing the oceans to fill with life. But that such life attracted even larger predators from the wilds, and we were engaged in a never-ending war that we could not stomach the incompleteness of, so we grew wings and lungs and took to the skies where we could be free and do what we liked without the burden of the water upon us.”

“Do you have dormant aquatic genetics?”

“No. None at all. I do not believe that portion of the myth. It is the anti-predator part that I am curious about. Does it mean anything to you?”

“A predator does what it does out of instinct, mostly, and that instinct is encoded in it by the universe itself. It is darkside coding meant to ensure it lives at all costs. An anti-predator isn’t a predator that preys on other predators. It is something stronger that stops the predators and thus stops the predation, defying the darkside coding. An anti-predator is one facet of the lightside.”

Pol’ake drew in a quick, deep breath.

“Is that significant?” Davis asked.

“Kara has told me much of the lightside, but never that. How do predators treat anti-predators?”

“They kill us whenever they can, often grouping up to do so.”

Pol’ake closed his eyes and mouth, twisting his head to the side and sneezing out two fireballs that disappeared a few meters into the air.

“I have always known there was an inherent honor to our race. Something we were constantly reaching for and failing to grasp, but always there. An anti-predator rings true, for reasons I cannot comprehend yet. Does the fight ever have a conclusion? Do the predators die in defeat, or are they never-ending?”

“If we do our job adequately, the worlds where we find them and battle them are thus free of them forever after, but our battles do not end unless there is an end to the universe.”

“The frontier is never controlled,” the Dragon mewed, looking to the side as if in deep thought and barely recognizing that the Human was there. “Then Dominance is a means to an end, not the end itself?”

“You are confusing an ‘end’ with ‘victory conditions.’ On our worlds where we are victorious, we must remain present, else new predators will arise. They are like weeds, and will grow larger with time.”

“And poison your mind?”

Davis frowned. “No, weeds, not weed. English isn’t a very well-constructed language, and sometimes there are multiple definitions for the same word.”

“Then why have you not constructed a superior one to replace it?”

“Because we’d have to remake a lot of stuff in the new language that isn’t translatable. Things that were important metaphors. A bit illogical, but the concept of synonyms and homonyms offer an element of opportunity that straightforward languages lack. We didn’t want to give that up.”

“Subterfuge?”

“More for the humor.”

“It seems as if you preserve a level of stupidity just for the sake of giving your people practice rising above it.”

Davis froze, remaining stone cold for several seconds before visibly shaking off his epiphany. He’d been missing the obvious. “Not by choice, but perhaps an accidental benefit.”

“Perhaps the Zak’de’ron should have inoculated ourselves with a similar mechanism. I do not understand how such stupidity could take root so widespread. The others were not behaving so out of fear. I would have sensed it. They chose to embrace the illogic. The censorship. The intolerance. We no longer acted as many cells in one brain. We were acting as slaves.”

“Did this begin with the deal making?”

“No. We embraced the idea of leaving to rebuild away from the Hadarak surge, and away from you. The apprenticeship aspect came later, after we were already committed. Many did not like it, then the sickness arose and spread. It felt like a buzzing in their minds.”

Davis’s eyes narrowed sharply. “Did you scan any of them?”

“None would let me, though they insisted on scanning me when I began resisting too much. Their minds were closed, and I could not force my way in without bringing more trouble down upon me.”

“Did you plan on returning to this galaxy one day in the future?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, and angrily. “This was never to be a capitulation. Not in truth. You were meant to think so, but we always were meant to return after your war with the Hadarak was over, one way or another. This is our galaxy…and then we just abandoned it. It’s as if they told us one thing to start us moving, and once the change began they revealed their true intent with so much in motion we could not reverse course.”

“That is not what I was told. I was told that you put together convoys of your servants’ ships loaded with treasures you could not carry on your own, and you launched them across the galactic void to arrive more than a million years later at your destination…but you did so with a starting point inside this galaxy, so that if the deal fell through you could still recover them. That isn’t something that can’t be undone once in motion. It’s a contingency plan for such a reversal.”

“I know of no such convoys. The rare resources we could not take with us were cast into stars so you could not easily access them.”

“We’re going after the convoys. I’ve already sent the order. In a year or so we’ll find out if they exist or not.”

“What was your source? Has another Zak’de’ron stayed behind?”

“Unfortunately no. Was the deathmark the Neofan’s idea or the Zak’de’ron’s?”

“It was given to us as an edict from Zeno’dor, though it could have been him taking their orders. He has been broken long before the deal was struck. The most recent war caused something in him to snap, and he has been distant from us ever since. I had hoped this plan was a resumption of his wisdom, for it breathed life into us for a short time before the sickness came. But now I fear he has descended into madness and somehow taken the rest of my race with him.”

“But not all.”

“Not all, but most.”

“Has this sort of consensus shift occurred before in your history?”

“Not with the censorship. We have never been told not to analyze. It is essentially heresy for us.”

“Yet you tell others not to?”

“They are servants, though I do see the hypocrisy. We held ourselves to different standards. Standards that were simply cast aside recently with no explanation as to why.”

“The reason is a simple and obvious one. The truth interfered with your plans, thus it was an enemy that had to be silenced or destroyed. You can’t destroy the truth as you can a lie, so it must be silenced and those that cling to it must be destroyed.”

“You say that as if it were commonplace in the galaxy.”

“It is…or was before Star Force emerged.”

“No, it is not. Most races do not think independently enough to challenge, thus there is little to censor. And those who do are so unorganized they self-destruct over petty rivalries and never rise to a level of noticeability.”

“Perhaps that’s because you didn’t care to look close enough.”

Pol’ake huffed. “I have much to learn of your ways. I admit that and embrace the challenge of it. For whatever reason my race has abandoned what we were, and what we aspired to become. They no longer care for dominance, except to ally themselves with those who exhibit it, as if that will procure it for them. No…I do not care to speculate about the parameters of madness. They are gone, more than physically, from this galaxy. And unless others defied the evacuation order, I am the last Zak’de’ron. And I am unfit to try and restart my race alone as Zeno’dor did. It was probably why he eventually went mad when two failures befell him. Nor do I wish to take on the impossibility of rising above you. Your lightside is more formidable than analysis predicted, and that means the analysis was flawed.”

“So you wish to marry yourself to our dominance as the others are to the Neofan?”

“I come to you as a wayward peer, not a supplicant. I also know you do not have servants, rather wards, and I understand the distinction. You have made the V’kit’no’sat races into new and stronger Factions within your Empire, including the Les’i’kron, our demented cousins. We are far beyond them, and if you wish to construct another Faction…a stronger Faction…out of the Zak’de’ron, I will give you as many eggs as you require with no oversight on my part. They will be yours to do with as you wish. I can trust you that far based on how you have handled the annexation of other races.”

“And what about you personally?”

“I do not want exile. I want to be relevant. I ask only that you put me to good use, and to find the things I can do that others cannot. For we are still superior to Humans and the V’kit’no’sat. Though our accomplishments fall quite short of yours.”

“Challenge accepted,” Davis agreed. “But first and foremost, I want to know exactly how you managed to control the three Uriti that you captured. Their genetic code resists alteration.”

Pol’ake stiffened. “We spoke to them, and they spoke back. From that point of access we developed a relationship with them, finding them to be little more than hatchlings and conditioned to respond to exterior orders. We convinced them that we were the ones to obey, through means you would not condone. I had some involvement in this, so I know of what transpired, but are you aware of the others?”

Davis glared at him. “What…others?” he said slowly and icily.

“We captured a Hadarak and took it to a part of the galaxy you do not control. We have been attempting to create our own Uriti based on genetic controls that were reliable, as the Chixzon did. There are several partial successes that could not be taken to the Neofan Temples in full view of you. We agreed to give them to the Neofan, but they will collect them by another means at a future date. They want them, Director. They want them badly. If you move quickly, you can get to them first, for they need a vessel large enough to carry them through their support network and beyond this galaxy. They have requested one from their ruling House, and it must come from far away. These prototype Uriti are the primary leverage we had to garner special treatment within the Bond of Resistance…or so we were told.”

“Do you know where they are?”

“Yes.”

“Are the Neofan there?”

“A few caretakers only. There would be a conflict, but one you should easily be able to win with your Essence powers countering theirs. Would that break existing agreements with them?”

“They’re not supposed to operate outside their Temples for more than sightseeing,” Davis said angrily. “So if they are there, in possession of these Uriti, they are in violation.”

“And what recourse does your agreement have for such occurrences?”

“None.”

“Then such a conflict could escalate into a second war?”

“That’s always been a possibility since they arrived, and before, actually. Our agreement has been mutually beneficial, and I do not think they will throw it away over this, for they have nowhere else to go…but they are also beginning to push the boundaries of what we will tolerate, knowing we cannot get to them in their three Temples. Not without significant cost. And their Essence powers are probably greater than they have allowed us to know.”

“Then you are in a stalemate?”

“They have their foothold. I will not allow them to expand beyond it. And I will not allow anyone to possess Uriti other than us. Nor will the Uriti. They are very protective of their kin, and we are very protective of them. Are you certain they are still here?”

“I have not been there to see with my own eyes. I am as certain as I can be. The Neofan cannot move them through the Temples without you knowing it. And they do not wish you to know of it.”

“Could they be on the convoys?”

“They cannot be kept in stasis. Their physiology does not allow it. They can only be sedated, and automated systems are not efficient at handling experiments. If there is a convoy on a million year journey, no living Uriti is on it. Though there could be genetic samples held in stasis so they do not decay. Only portions of their body are immune to it.”

Davis mentally linked with his computer systems, searching the system for Kara’s location and finding her already in one of the special Archon Sanctums hidden beneath the Indian Ocean where extensive Essence-training equipment was contained, the likes of which were present only in four other star systems.

Davis sent her a message to get her ass over to Atlantis immediately. If they were going to pick a fight with the Neofan, best to have a Jinx with them.

“Have you been there before?”

“Yes, many times when difficulties needed to be addressed.”

“Then your first mission is to go with Kara, assist her with claiming these Uriti, but do not reveal your presence to the Neofan.”

“They may sense it.”

“Irrelevant. You are going as advisor, unless you possess Essence skills that I cannot see in you?”

“You can detect them in others?”

“I can detect a higher concentration of Essence, and you lack it.”

“I have not been taught those mysteries.”

“Then confronting the Neofan would be suicide.”

“I am not arguing, but do you not have some forms of negation technology?”

“We do, but it is hard to produce and you’re not getting any. So stay away from them and help Kara with knowledge alone. The Neofan are too powerful for you to confront, and they have orders to kill you on sight.”

“Very well. Shall we leave immediately?”

“In the next day or two, depending on ship placements. But first, tell me everything you did to this Hadarak, and exactly what kind of Uriti did you spawn?”

www.aerkijyr.com

Reclaimers

1

December 1, 154965

Pliskin System (Lovak Kingdom)

Snake Four

Until recently, the Lovak Kingdom had been on the outer edge of Star Force a quarter of the way around the galactic perimeter from Earth. Star Force territory there was a thin conduit of Kingdoms tracing around the Hula Hoop, with large chunks of unexplored territory beyond.

Due to recent initiatives, a new Kingdom was forming on what had originally been the outer edge as Conquest Fleets were constantly moving into the lightly mapped areas and making contact with the locals…as well as drawing out the bad guys by various means so they could identify them and deal with the threat however necessary. The Conquest Fleets were laying claim to uninhabited systems, arranging for embassies to be built on the friendly worlds they found, and were constantly busy hunting down raiders, hijackers, slavers, meat traders, kidnappers, and all other manner of skullduggery that was virtually eliminated inside Star Force systems.

But out here, things were a great deal more wild, even in the Lovak Kingdom, whose majority of systems were neutral or uninhabited. It was thinly populated with Star Force worlds, and Lord Byron had been tasked with growing it over time, but his efforts had been greatly hampered by the war effort, with a great deal of industrial output being shipped to the Grand Border to fuel the fleets fighting there.

But Byron wasn’t completely shut down, and was continuing to develop his very frontier Kingdom a little bit here and a little bit there, and he was happy that his outer border was no longer going to be up against the wilds, even if it the new Kingdom in the making was only going to have a loose hold on the area once it got up and running. That, at least, would push a lot of the scum further out and leave his neighbors alone, for the Lord didn’t have many military assets left to him, and there were far too many systems not under his control for him to keep running patrols through constantly.

Nefron had been in contact with him regularly after the first meeting on the Kingdom capitol of High Ground, named for yet another Star Wars reference. One would think the Archons had run out of them by now, but there seemed to be no end. The Chixzon wondered how many people even realized how many names they assigned came from their past fiction that they clung to so automatically it had made Nefron investigate the matter. He hadn’t been able to determine why exactly that was, but guessed it was the commonality that bound them together through the culture in which they were born…a culture that no longer existed, so it served as a sort of secret code they could speak in, but why they continued naming things as such he didn’t fully understand.

He’d considered asking them about it, but had decided against that method. It was possible they didn’t understand their own motivation, and asking them about it might cloud the subject even more, so he’d let it go for the most part, but every new reference he saw he cataloged as one more bit of data to one day use to figure out the riddle of why they chose to make so many things from their past, and above all the rest, those of Star Wars…which he’d made himself indulge in to the point where he could quote the movies and tv series from memory, along with a few of the books.

Nefron still didn’t see the point of it all, but at least he could now spot the references where other people missed them.

And it was in the High Ground System that he was offered a new position in Star Force. One that he did not want at the time, but after a few years of thinking it over he finally relented and took the position that Director Davis had left on the table if he ever changed his mind.

Now Nefron was a Reclaimer…another reference to a different Old Earth Fiction…and he had accepted the task of vetting and putting to use any of the Chixzon prisoners that had opted for surrender rather than death when Star Force had located and boarded their hidden cities floating beyond star systems where no one would know to look.

Except Star Force had found a leak, and from that one leak they tracked down more and more until the whole Chixzon network was taken down…or so they thought. Nefron wasn’t sure they hadn’t missed something, for the encryption the Chixzon had been using seemed too weak for his satisfaction. And despite their attempts to delete all data…which they did achieve sometimes…enough willing and unwilling prisoners had been taken to search their minds for links to other Chixzon, and some 1.3 million survivors had been gathered from across the galaxy and brought to the Lovak Kingdom where a special indoctrination center had been built for them.

That’s why Nefron had been here to begin with. To assist with those efforts. Then one day he’d been summoned to the Lord’s world where a transmission from the Director had laid out the offer to him, with Bryon able to fill in any additional details he required.

The offer had been logical, and if Nefron had wished to return to being a Protovic he could have done so long ago…yet he’d always held that as a possibility, deciding that it just wasn’t time yet, but something that would come along later.

But the offer and the subsequent deliberations had underscored one thing for him personally…and that he was never going back to being a Protovic.

That saddened him when he first realized the truth…and the truth was that being Chixzon was superior. The ‘Protovic’ in him was a symbol of what Star Force was, what Nefron truly was, and he’d had to fight to get that back early on when the programming in his mind ruled him.

But now, the programming was moot. He was in control, and had found himself again, inside this Chixzon body and this Chixzon intellect. The genetic memories of others didn’t sway him. At this point they were more of a personal library he could access whenever he needed. He was Star Force through and through once again, though he did miss his glowing skin…which was why he often opted to wear glowing clothing…but when it came to sneaking around, his Chixzon black was highly preferable to the Protovic colors, and he no longer saw the black as an endless void of the darkside. Not for him anyway.

The other Chixzon were an entirely different story.

He’d been in contact with them since the beginning of their indoctrination, and had remained to monitor and catch the cheating he knew they would pull. They had intended on playing the Star Force game only to keep their true motivations hidden until they could escape into the Star Force Empire and quietly start their scheming all over again.

Nefron had shut that down quickly, though they didn’t know it was him doing it. He was able to sift through those who were legitimately willing to change and those who were pretending, and it was the few that were truly trying to learn that had ultimately made the decision for him. They would do well enough with other Star Force personnel guiding them, but nobody could do what Nefron could do, for nobody understood what it meant to be Chixzon except another Chixzon.

And now that he had some additional information on what the Chixzon had been before their ‘fall’ he understood his own mind better. They had been a great race once, at least in largess. They’d been spread across 4 galaxies, not dominating any of them, but having a strong presence in all. They’d been primarily scientists and data analysts, trading their skills for raw materials that others would bring them, and in doing so became almost a parasite on other races, but apparently in a less intrusive manner than the Chixzon of the present would have been.

Something had happened and their civilization was destroyed in short order, with the scattered remnants morphing into the Chixzon and embracing the darkside to ensure their survival. And survival was the most important instinct within a Chixzon. Even now Nefron could feel it in himself. The urge to run and hide rather than fight and die. The urge to cunningly outwit your opponents, or nature itself, and find a way to escape the certain doom of others. It had been encoded into the Chixzon genome either by design or by adaptation, and it seemed to have originated from whatever happened to their previous civilization, known only as the Ni’o’zon’chi.

The name was similar to Chixzon, but Nefron’s genetic memories didn’t contain it or the history of his race prior to their current incarnation. But something massive had happened, and they were now the fallen remnants of something greater…and that meant something. He hadn’t been able to piece it together yet, but it was significant. He could feel it. And the more he interacted with the other Chixzon the more the sensation grew that they were meant for something. Something that had been lost and shrouded in the darkside of their rebirth.

Nefron knew it had to do with outside this galaxy, and that the Chixzon could either wither here and die off completely, or they could try to reclaim their past legacy and use it to enhance Star Force. And for that simple reason Nefron had accepted Davis’s offer and became the fourth ‘Reclaimer’ in the empire, though the total number had now risen to 6 the last he’d heard. And like the others, he was uniquely suited to reclaim the lost and see it return to its potential, and the Chixzon were no exception.

Most of their 1.3 million population was still in the indoctrination program after more than 30 years, but 132,932 had made it through, and each was personally cleared by Nefron…with the help of the Archons whose Ikrid was far more powerful than his own telepathy. Together they were sure these Chixzon wanted to climb towards greatness, and had seen the failings of the darkside in person, and then further illuminated by Star Force’s teachings which was all they had to entertain themselves with while in indoctrination. That, or physical training, but the boredom that drove many to explore for the sake of doing something didn’t work on the Chixzon, for they were extremely patient and cunning, and could lay in wait indefinitely in order to accomplish their mission…or catch their prey…and those predator instincts were one major problem Nefron was having to deal with.

He’d conquered his long ago, but these other Chixzon had never fought their instincts. They’d just gone along with them and accepted them as normal until something occurred to make them question who and what they were. Indoctrination left a lot of time for thinking, and those that had come through were on the right path, but the accumulated darkside knowledge and habits that they were born with, regardless of whether they had been Protovic converts or spawnings, were a heavy lift to overcome, and if one didn’t have reason to try they’d never have the courage to press back on what seemed to be the natural way.

Nefron was having to deconstruct the Chixzon and then rebuild them, but he couldn’t do it like he had with himself, for a small piece of him had not been converted, and that piece was still Protovic. It was tiny, a small set of memories that hadn’t been rewritten, but it was the point of contact the Archons had used to free him from the transformation…and afterwards he’d conscripted the transformation and turned it to his own lightside purposes.

But every Chixzon to be spawned would start with those darkside habits, so Nefron had a huge problem to deal with, and he wasn’t going to start genetically rewriting huge chunks of their coding. Even making small alterations was dangerous, due to unseen complications. Nefron knew this from his memories, as the Chixzon would experiment on others and simply discard the failures rather than try and fix them. Over and over, millions upon millions, they would alter into an abominable state until they finally had a success…and they’d usually kill the success anyway so long as they had the genetic sample they required.

Such ‘experimentation’ was darkside, no matter what the cause for it, and no matter how intelligent, or lack thereof, the one being experimented on was. Star Force was anti-darkside and everyone knew it, but there were some activities that they responded to with extra vigor, often lethally, and one of those was the meat industry. The other that Nefron had noted was such ‘scientific research’ that involved the torture and/or death of those unwillingly experimented upon. And the Conquest Fleets were encountering many such instances, which ended with the immediate termination of whatever civilization was responsible.

Not in terms of the people being killed, but their sovereignty was immediately revoked and Star Force would come in and take the whole place over…often with the death of the researchers who didn’t surrender. Star Force had never, as far as he knew, killed a prisoner. But Star Force was the one who decided who they did and did not take prisoner, and when they saw cages full of mutilated, disease infected, suffering ‘animals’ as the so-called ‘scientists’ casually went around inflicting damage all in the name of scientific discovery or medical advances…Nefron knew many of them were shot dead where they stood if they so much as drew a weapon in self-defense, despite the fact that Star Force had stun weaponry and could take them prisoner if they wanted to.

But there were some things that were so darkside that Star Force wouldn’t be that nice about it, yet in Nefron’s memories such things were just ‘normal,’ and that darkside apathy was something he had to fight to remove from the Chixzon if they were ever going to be able to reproduce. If Davis knew the Chixzon like Nefron knew them, he would have ordered them shot on sight rather than taken prisoner. And those that surrendered of their own accord, he would have permanently exiled to a prison planet with drones calibrated to shoot anything that left the surface.

That’s the level of wrongness within the Chixzon that Nefron had to contend with a second time. The first time he’d had the Archons’ help and his own Protovic past to help him, but he was finding it was infinitely harder to help someone else change than to change yourself, because he controlled his choices and the ultimate outcome of his own internal battles. But those of others he could only influence, and that meant he had to be very cunning in his approach.

Right now Nefron was inside the only Chixzon city in existence, in a system named for another Old Earth Fiction, and one almost criminally hilarious in its aptness. The Chixzon were sneaks, and the fact that the Archons weren’t denying that, or even inferring it was a bad thing, gave Nefron his primary direction for his new wards.

They were sneaks, and sneaks they needed to continue to be, just with different motives.

And to truly know one’s motive you had to see them in action, which was why Nefron had decided to implement virtual training using the system that the first Reclaimer Cal-com had devised to weed out those Vargemma who were worthy and those who weren’t. Now Nefron had to use it to teach through action, and to nudge the Chixzon in the direction they needed to be while constantly monitoring their progress and making alterations to the programming on an individual level for each of them.

And they didn’t know it. Each time they entered the Verasitium their memories would be blocked on the inside, and when they exited the memories of what had occurred inside would be wiped permanently. So from their point of view, they entered the door and immediately exited, not knowing any time had passed, but the adaptation that occurred inside was not a thing of memory, and Nefron was able to track the changes far better than Cal-com’s system ever could.

He was, of course, sharing his advancements and results with the other Reclaimers, but the Chixzon’s situation was so much darker that it almost didn’t count as peerdom. Nefron was having to wring the darkside out of them to the point it was really him versus the darkside himself, and that’s why he knew he had to be the one to do this. No one else could, for they didn’t see the depths of it. The Chixzon were choking in it from spawning, and that wasn’t their choice. He had originally thought it would be best to forbid spawning and just let the Chixzon race die out if they didn’t achieve self-sufficiency…and that was probably the more prudent choice, but the Director was stubborn when it came to such things. He didn’t like to surrender anything to the darkside, so he’d tasked Nefron with taking the Chixzon back from it…and he’d used those exact words in his original message.

So that’s what Nefron was doing, and each day for several hours each Chixzon in their new city would report to the Verasitium at different times of day to do something they would never remember. That required trust, which he had from them, and with that trust he and he alone was responsible for reshaping them…and it was working. New habits were forming, old ones withering away…but the problem was, in order to get that new stuff encoded into their genome to pass on to another generation, it couldn’t be a light or quick change. It had to be ground in so far and so hard that it had to be passed on the for the sake of survival.

And that meant Nefron had to be relentless in the training. Which meant he wasn’t going to be able to let any of them spawn new offspring for several thousand years at the minimum, and neither could he without an adequate pairing.

The road ahead was long, hard, and uncertain, but small progress was being made and he was committed to this for as long as it would take. The Director didn’t want the Chixzon for the war against the Hadarak, which was a good thing, for they’d never be ready in time. He wanted them brought out of the darkside in order to spite it, or as some famous people from many different races had said..

Why climb the mountain? Because it is there.

The Chixzon were here, the challenge was here, and Reclaimer Nefron was going to tackle it, though he had no illusions of victory. This fight was about fighting and seeing where it led, for he honestly didn’t know. To use a metaphor, he was walking through the fog and couldn’t see more than one meter ahead of him, but he could see one meter of ground, and that was all he needed to figure out where to take his next step.

He didn’t know if the other million Chixzon would come out of indoctrination or not. He hoped some would, but that future was up to them, not him. He was in charge of those that were out, while Star Force personnel far more experienced with the indoctrination methods used to free people’s minds that had been devised and codified long ago could handle this process better than him. It was where the newly freed minds went afterward that was uncharted. And for that, a Reclaimer was needed.

And like the other Reclaimers had told him, he had to make it up as he went along. No road map would be available. Only his skill and determination to tackle the unknown challenges ahead.

That had made him feel better at the time, but had also made him realize he might be fighting a never-ending war to free a race that might not be capable of being freed from their basic darkside instincts.

But like the mountain, it was there, and he was intent to conquer it…especially since he had already done so in himself. So he knew it was possible, for those internally driven, but the trick was to figure out how to move along those who were not so driven.

And that was a trick he was still searching for, because a sad fact had manifested before him.

The other Chixzon were not driven. They were broken. And the broken don’t fight very hard, if at all.

So, what would any good Chixzon do in that situation? Manipulate and trick them into doing what he wanted them to do. And that’s exactly how Nefron was tackling this, because he didn’t see any other possibilities. Not a single one.

Chixzon were sneaks. And if they were going to escape the darkside, he was going to have to sneak them out of it.

2

June 13, 154966

Unexplored Territory

High Stellar Orbit

Kara-317 stood in the command nexus onboard a Warship-class starship leading a fleet of some 30 vessels of similar make, though varying in year of production. All of them had the same submarine-like elongated hulls with a massive hangar cavity cut out of the underside in the rear portion to house drones, most of which were now deployed and buzzing around the fleet like hornets as they escorted one much larger ship in the rear of the formation.

Kara’s ship was in the front as they approached the cloaked facility orbiting the central star far beyond any of the planets. It was so far out gravity was weak here, and the fleet had to approach slowly due to restricted engine power, but the Star Force ghostbane sensors were already picking up artificial gravity signatures on multiple constructs ahead.

The tiny pinpricks of light on the hologram outlines the decks where the Zak’de’ron would have lived and operated, for the Uriti needed none, and wanted none. There were supposed to be 8 housed here, along with the dead remains of some 182 others, most of whom hadn’t lived long enough to reach even a half mile wide.

The artificial gravity well was here, but not active. If it had been, it would have been lighting up the ghostbane sensors the equivalent of a star. And it was in that large spherical station that the Uriti had been spawned by the captive Hadarak that Pol’ake said was now dead. It had been terminated prior to the Zak’de’ron’s departure, for the Neofan did not want it. Only it’s advanced progeny.

“Can you sense them?” Pol’ake asked via comm, for he was too big to comfortably fit on the ship’s bridge.

“The Uriti I can. But we’re too far out to feel the Neofan unless they’re actively using Essence.”

“Do they feel like the others?”

Kara sighed. “Big Essence blobs all look the same. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Then stay quiet until I need you or you have something valuable to offer.”

“Do I distract you?”

“I wish it was that simple.”

“Then it’s the darkside taint I carry?”

“For starters. But right now I have to pick a fight with the Neofan, and I don’t know how strong they really are. So could you just shut up and let me work this without having to answer questions?”

“Agreed,” the dragon said, with blissful silence following that pithy statement.

Kara brought her warships in closer, but probed ahead with her drones until they made contact with the constructs. They drew no return fire, merely bumping into the cloaking fields and destabilizing them around the contact points, making it look like they were causing ripples in space, but when their jamming technology kicked in they took down each field they made contact with in less than a second, exposing the various stations floating in high orbit alongside each other, all of which appeared to be bundles of yarn.

That was one familiar form of Zak’de’ron technology, and Kara knew those strands could unravel and reform in different alignments as needed, but in this case they were cages for the sleeping Uriti, save for one main control center that was smaller than the rest and riding further away from the others in their tract around the star.

Kara opened a comm channel with that station, getting the response ping from the Zak’de’ron technology that let her know it was receiving, though no one responded to the polite knock on the door.

“Attention Neofan. You are here, we believe, to take possession of several Uriti the Zak’de’ron were spawning in secret. The other Uriti are quite eager to meet their new brothers, and under no circumstances will allow them to be taken outside this galaxy or anywhere else. And seeing as how we’re best friends with them, we’re here to assist in retrieving their kin and delivering them to the herd. If you are receiving this message, please respond back before we board the station. I’d prefer to avoid an unfortunate combat situation if possible.”

More than a minute passed with no response, then Kara sent a copy of the message out to the other constructs, eventually getting a reply from #7, which held the largest Essence Presence she could see, meaning the largest Uriti of the lot, and they were of a range of sizes.

“Star Force, be advised that we are here with the permission of the Zak’de’ron and have already laid claim to these Uriti. Do not try and take them from us. We also do not wish to get into an unpleasant situation.”

“You are out of bounds,” Kara replied.

“A technicality, but we are in small error. It is necessary to retrieve the property of the Zak’de’ron and transport it to another galaxy on a vessel capable of moving the Uriti. The Zak’de’ron possessed none.”

“Then why weren’t we billed for the Essence cost of said moving?” Kara quipped.

“It was a side deal that did not involve you. Nor does it now. These Uriti will pose no threat to this galaxy once removed, and the Hadarak here has already been terminated before it could break free to cause havoc in the Rim. There is no need for your presence.”

Kara focused for a moment, using the gauntlet on her arm to speak with the Uriti named Bahamut…their informal pack leader…who was riding in the big ship behind the fleet. He didn’t speak in words, but ever since the trailblazers had made the transition to Furyan they’d had a breakthrough in communication that had allowed others like Kara to learn how to speak to them better rather than using the limited shorthand thoughts and emotions the Wranglers had developed over the millennia.

“I have a Uriti with me, and he says he claims possession of those here as his wards. And I can attest that when a Uriti claims a ward, they will fight to the death before allowing them to be taken from them. So how do you suggest we resolve this situation?”

“Do not mock us, Human. You are in control of the Uriti and can utilize your override codes whenever you wish.”

“That’s for emergencies only. The Uriti are our friends, not our property. That’s a lesson I wonder if the Neofan have ever learned. You seem quite…possessively apathetic to the idea of sovereignty.”

“A curious phrase, and partially accurate. Those who hold the responsibility for other races must do what is required even if it interferes with the sovereignty of those who cannot take care of themselves. The very nature of a ward defies the idea of sovereignty.”

“Only when viewed from an inferior perspective.”

“And what do you claim is the superior perspective?”

“Compartmentalization. Restrictions where needed, freedom elsewhere. The Uriti know if they take certain actions…like snacking on an inhabited planet…we will intervene and stop them. But so long as they behave themselves we respect their sovereignty. As we also respect the sovereignty of the Uriti here, and we intend to protect that sovereignty that had not been granted to them by the Zak’de’ron.”

“The Zak’de’ron no longer control them.”

“I doubt you will be much better, considering how you have treated the Boos’mo.”

“They stopped being Boos’mo when we upgraded them. They are now Pol’so’nep, and serve a far greater purpose than the Boos’mo could have imagined.”

“But you didn’t ask permission. You enslaved them.”

“What’s the difference between a slave and a ward?” the Neofan said, with his stick-like wings flexing behind him. “Both are under your care, but one is preserved and the other expended. We preserve the Pol’so’nep as you preserve your Uriti. And as such, we will preserve these Uriti while giving them a greater purpose than their creators could have imagined.”

“The Boos’mo didn’t like being your slaves. Did you ever care about that?” Kara challenged.

“Our wards do not always know what is best for them.”

“And on that note, in this galaxy you are our wards, and you don’t always know what is best for you,” Kara said icily. “We are claiming these Uriti and putting them in our care.”

“We built the Temples here long before your civilization existed. We are not your wards, and we will not take orders from you. This arrangement with the Zak’de’ron does not involve you. Leave now before we are forced to give you a lesson in true superiority.”

“Do you really want to risk losing your home in this galaxy?” Kara threatened.

“We have not attacked you nor violated our agreement aside from our temporary presence here. That will be remedied shortly as we have a ship on its way. The status quo will return soon.”

“And you think we’re just supposed to overlook your violation?”

“You are engaged in a war against the Hadarak that you may very well lose. You cannot afford to fight us at the same time, for you will have no chance of victory in that circumstance. We apologize for our presence here, but it is necessary to arrange transit, and as per our agreement concerning the Zak’de’ron, they have all left and could not stay behind to look after these Uriti. That task fell to us, out of prudence, though I admit it is a violation.”

“Let me be more clear then. We are not going to allow you to enslave these Uriti.”

“You do not have the override codes for them. You cannot control them. But we can. Thus we are defaultly their masters. If they remain here, they will be a threat to this galaxy. They must be removed.”

“And we will be the ones removing them,” Kara said firmly. “I suggest you stay out of our way. Otherwise we’re going to have a disagreement that you won’t like.”

“I warn you. Despite our amicable status, we will not be dictated to. We have possession of these Uriti, and we will defend them against any attempts at harm or capture.”

“So it’s war then?” Kara asked bluntly.

“We will not start one. But we will not be bullied into submission either. We hold these constructs. If you attempt to take them from us, you will be the one initiating combat, and you will be the one responsible for your losses thereafter.”

“We’re taking the Uriti. Stay out of our way here and now if you want to live. Our Director will be addressing your movement violation later.”

“If you come onboard this station you will be treated as an enemy combatant. I am trying to be clear about this so you understand the consequences.”

“We don’t need to come onboard,” Kara said with a smirk as she cut the transmission. “Pok’ake, now’s your time to shine.”

“Accessing systems now,” he reported from his makeshift accommodations in one of the ship’s hangar bays that had been renovated into Zak’de’ron-scale chambers. Inside it was his own technology, built from technological seeds he had brought with him, and separate from the ship’s systems. Through that technology he reached out and accessed the Zak’de’ron systems onboard each of the constructs and used his priority access codes to snoop around and see what the Neofan had been doing…or in this case not doing.

“They haven’t touched the systems. My codes are still valid,” he reported a few minutes later. “They appear to be focusing their attention on one of the Uriti. They’ve been injecting it with unknown material and monitoring the reaction while keeping it in stasis. I’m downloading all data from all databases for analysis later. I can override their control of the stasis mechanisms at your command.”

“If we do this one by one, will they be able to circumvent you?”

“Doubtful, but if they can it will be on the construct they are physically present in, and there is only one. I have already locked out inter-facility communications. All will be controlled from this ship exclusively.”

“Have they damaged the control mechanism on the Uriti?”

“Impossible without altering its brain chemistry, and their experiments appear to be in the epidermis only. We did not give them our methods of creating the Uriti, for that leverage we wished to maintain. And I have registered attempts at hacking the databases that have all failed. They have the control codes, but nothing more. I do not believe they could have rewritten them in such short time, and the monitoring systems show no material reaching their brain tissue.”

“Alright. Wake him up and get him outside. Bahamut will win the tug of war.”

“I hope you are right,” Pol’ake said, sending the commands to the Zak’de’ron station where some seven Neofan were residing…

The first thing Tulark noticed was the groan of stressed building material as the Uriti twitched. That was as unusual as a mountain moving, and it immediately sent him to the command center to see what was happening. When he arrived there two more Neofan were already present and working the alien manual control boards furiously, finding the lack of proper mental interlinks beyond frustrating when time was of the essence.

“It is waking,” Si’covi said as he studied numerous holograms, tapping several out of existence while bringing up more with a telekinetic press of a nearby physical console. “Our control of the system has been remotely overridden.”

Tulark frowned. “How do they possess Zak’de’ron codes?”

“Perhaps they captured more of their technology than we were told…regardless, I do not understand these primitive systems enough to override the sedative injectors. They are inactive and it will awaken in stages. Unless a way is found soon, the process will be irreversible.”

“How did they sedate it?” he demanded.

“They ordered it to sleep, then sedated it the remaining distance. It is not lucid enough to respond to orders, and its thrashing will destroy this facility before it can be controlled.”

“All without engaging us in combat. I underestimated their guile,” he said, with all three Neofan heads turning to the sound of another warning orb manifesting in holo on the far side of the room.

“They’re opening the doors,” Si’covi said, confused. “I have no control over them. Why are they assisting us?”

“They do not want us killed,” Tulark said in disgust at their weakness, but relieved to have the opportunity to assert control over the Uriti. “And once it is safely outside, it will do our bidding. Their Uriti will not have enough influence to bypass the genetic command constraints.”

“Unless the Zak’de’ron lied about their success,” the third Neofan warned.

“Raise all defenses that do not interfere with the release, and protect the transmitters. So long as we can communicate with it, we will control it. And if they insist on boarding to take that control from us, we will use the Uriti to destroy them…”

3

Slowly he awoke, and not gently. The Uriti was in pain, as he always was when he went to sleep…but the masters had commanded it, and they had grasped him from his slumber and tumbled him down into a very diminished and deluded mindset. He was a prisoner, but barely knew it until the shackles began to come off again as they were now and his sanity returned bit by painful bit.

He jerked his arms, rattling his cage as one hit and one did not. The one that missed he focused on, realizing the cage was already open. The Uriti pulled on the local gravity and nudged himself outward as he continued to spasm involuntarily as the control of his six-limbed body returned in spits and furts.

His body was numb, but the faint smell of starlight made it through to his senses none the less. That gave him his orientation in the floating void, and from that he began to map out what was around him. His cage…the other cages…the masters’ cage…and many new things, including a different sort of cage that was open and had another of his kind coming out of it, though one he had not met before.

That excited him, but he was distracted with the waking process and the call of the masters. They said to stay away from the new arrivals…but then other masters onboard the new arrivals said to come to them.

Never before had the masters contradicted themselves, and it wasn’t the confusion of the waking that beset him. He was receiving two conflicting orders, being repeated constantly, and he didn’t know how to respond.

Then a massive presence fell upon him as he felt the voice of the new Uriti, sensed his power, experience, age, and majesty. He was not compelled to follow the other Uriti, but he knew he should obey this one. And it was from the divine light of his presence that his confusion was given a direction to follow, along with an explanation.

The masters in the cage were imposters, speaking the commands taught to them by the true masters. They intended great harm on the Uriti, while the true masters were here to free him and the others and bring them into the great herd…for there were countless more of them spread across the galaxy helping the little ones in their war against the Uriti’s insane kin.

That was when this one learned of the Hadarak, and how they wanted to destroy all Uriti despite being welcoming into the herd. He told the great one of the Hadarak here, and how he had cursed at them despite being their spawn. The masters had told them he was sick and did not know what he was saying, but now that the truth was being revealed to him the ill will made more sense. But a sad, depressing sense. All Uriti were meant to be as one.

The Great One understood, and told him of his own near death at the hands of the Hadarak and others. The galaxy was a dangerous place, but the herd was making it safe for all, large and small, and there were many more large ones in the center of the galaxy that had to be saved…or fought…once they got there. A Great Journey was promised to the Uriti, for one day they would live amongst the largest gravity wells as their kin did, but first they must remove the threats and safeguard the galaxy for all…and he was asking for this Uriti’s help.

But he did not understand ‘asking.’ He was bred to be commanded, and the Great One said he would learn to become more than commanded with time and training the small ones would provide. For the Uriti had been made as tools, but had become a great deal more over time, and the commands were now only used to warn them of danger to themselves or to others, for the small ones were many and often in the way. If care was not taken, they would be killed accidentally, so the commands served a purpose, but were rarely used after the Uriti found themselves. The Great One said this Uriti was small and new, and had not found himself yet, so he must obey the Great One’s commands and come with the little ones. And he must come now.

The Uriti didn’t understand, and the commands echoing in his mind were still conflicted, but the Great One allowed him to choose between them, though even as he began to move away from his cage toward the magnificent presence he felt his will tearing apart. He could not disobey, yet if he stayed put he would also be disobeying after a delay, and in that delay he could at least think.

But the Great One explained this to him, and though it caused him distress he followed the Great One’s commands and moved toward him slowly, for the star was so far away and he could barely pull upon it, but after moving past the cages for the little ones he came into the shadow of the Great One and moved inside his huge cage…at which point the commands from the masters in his cage stopped speaking.

That left him with only the commands of the newly arrived masters and the Great One, and they were not in conflict, giving the new Uriti a sense of peace, though his confusion still troubled him.

The Great One assured him he was making the right decision, and caressed him with a lightning cascade that felt so good he could not comprehend it. Some of the pain he had been feeling since birth was destroyed, and his mind woke up a second time, seeing the universe with more clarity than ever before.

The Great One said he would learn much, but first they must travel inside his cage, for it could move much faster than even he could across the stars. And they must get his 7 kin out of their cages as well, in addition to the remains of the dead ones.

He asked what dead ones, then he learned a grim truth. Many had died here, before them, but they would not be left to drift in the cold. They could be taken with them, and eventually find their place in the heat of a star where all Uriti truly belonged.

As he was explaining where they were going, another Uriti came out of its cage and he felt the Great One beckon to it. After a short period of time it too began to move towards them as the excitement of the future grew in the safety and security of the Great One’s presence.

The Uriti knew he belonged here, even without the Masters’ commands telling him to remain with the Great One. This was the best moment of the Uriti’s life, and he was soaking in every moment of it as another lightning cascade washed over him and removed more unseen grime from his mind and pain from his body…

Pol’ake continued to issue commands to the Uriti, playing a tug of war with the Neofan, for their transmitter he couldn’t override. It was a dedicated system and not connected to the overall network, but fortunately Kara had been right about the other Uriti tipping the balance.

One by one each Uriti was released from its cage, and one by one they all came to the enormous carrier Star Force had brought with them and took their place alongside Bahamut, looking like little eggs alongside his massive winged body. Each of the Zak’de’ron Uriti was a different design with different capabilities, but the command control genetics were identical in them all, including the dead ones that were stored at nearby constructs that served as warehouses for all this operation had needed so to not have to rely on regular starship traffic to supply them and potentially reveal their location.

Once all the Uriti were inside the carrier, Bahamut left them there behind the jamming field that was blocking the transmissions from the Neofan, and he flew out to the first of the warehouses that contained the dead and ripped them open with his invisible grasp so easily it made Pol’ake cringe. Out of their Zak’de’ron facilities he pulled each of the corpses and carried them back to the living ones in a few trips, making a nest out of the floating corpses and 8 living Uriti, into which he crawled back in and surrounded himself with, tucking them all carefully inside the shield perimeter, then the carrier began to cover over again with solid hull sections, sealing them all in for the journey further into the galaxy.

And the Neofan were left impudent. Whatever powers they possessed, there was nothing they could do to stop the Uriti, and the conflicting commands he had been sending out guaranteed the dominance of Bahamut over the others. It was a masterstroke of strategy on Kara’s part, and it also avoided a combat situation with the Neofan.

Not to mention it didn’t require Pol’ake revealing his presence either, which he appreciated greatly.

The dragon expected another conversation with the Neofan, but they did not contact Kara and she did not contact them. And as quickly as they had arrived, the Star Force fleet and Uriti carrier simply turned around and headed back in towards the star, leaving the Neofan stranded there until one of their own ships arrived to pick them up. And if it had to come from another galaxy to do so, he imagined their anger would be supreme upon arrival, but would that trigger a response? Or would they simply suffer it in order to not jeopardize their situation here?

Pol’ake could not guess. He had never met a Neofan in person, and had no wish to. Star Force would deal with the situation regardless, and if he had a way to assist them he would, but he was glad to no longer be involved in this and hoped to keep far away from their Temples for the remainder of his life…which he hoped to be unlimited.

To his surprise, though, as they were making their way back towards the star, Kara showed up in his hangar bay accommodations, tiny in size, but largess in power that he no longer questioned. She could kill him quite quickly if she wished, and he could do likewise to her only if she was distracted for a moment…but they were both past any such considerations, and allies regardless of her dislike for him, though the frown on her face now suggested her dislike had another reason for its merit.

Kara produced a large hologram that Pol’ake could clearly see of one of the Uriti, with her highlighting a specific part of it.

“What is this?” she demanded.

“It’s a port for technological attachment,” he said, referencing the nub sticking up slightly on the back of Uriti #6, which looked like a space crab.

“Meaning what?”

“It’s the top of a conduit that goes deep inside the Uriti to a void, inside of which we can build what we want. It can be weaponry, cargo, or passengers.”

Kara blinked. “You wanted to ride inside them?”

“That’s the only way to assure communications are not blocked,” Pol’ake said, huffing his wings out from his body a few meters then bringing them back in again…the dragon version of a shrug.

“And what else?”

“There was potential for multiple applications. We felt it best to engineer the cavity while leaving the specific use to future necessity. But having an Essence-capable individual within operating a weapon that was enhanced by Essence, would give the Uriti far more combat potential against opponents, especially the Hadarak Lurkers.”

“Are there any side effects?”

“There are always side effects,” Pol’ake admitted. “And these were not to be the final versions. They were complete enough to survive and help continue the experimentation in actuality rather than in simulation based off genetic profiles alone. I am not knowledgeable on all the details, but I believe this particular type of Uriti has pressure limits on its aperture.”

Kara frowned again. “It can close over the hole? I thought the whole thing was lined with Yeg’gor?”

“It is, but for complications we could not make it thick enough internally. The compression factor is also outward rather than in, so we devised an aperture made of Yeg’gor that puckers together and provides solid protection against battle stresses…but the pressures within a black hole are theorized to be too great and would breach the aperture and the thin armor within.”

“And stars?”

“Should be compatible with most sizes.”

“Should be? You never tested it on this one?”

“These Uriti have never left the testing ground.”

Kara rolled her eyes, knowing how much the Uriti needed star baths for a myriad of reasons. “You never stole any of our records on them, did you?”

“Did you have such a theft?”

“Not that we knew of, but you guys being you…”

“We had no such knowledge. Have we made a vital error?”

“Want me to give you the list?”

“Just the confirmation will do.”

“Yeah, you screwed up big time.”

“Not surprising considering these were experiments. Is the damage irreparable?”

Kara blinked, surprised at his sudden concern for his ‘experiments.’

“They’re a mess. More so than the original Uriti, and a lot of their biology we don’t understand. Why did you change so much?”

“We did not. The Uriti genetics we had could not be replicated. We had to create our own from alterations to the captive Hadarak. I do not know how similar or different they are from the rest of yours.”

“You’re telling me you never gained Chixzon knowledge?”

“If we had, the original Uriti we found we could have controlled the same way you did. That lack of control should be answer enough.”

“So everything you’ve done here has been from scratch?”

“Aside from the inspiration of seeing the finished product, yes.”

Kara crossed her arms over her small chest. “You’re saying you never captured a Chixzon or created one of your own?”

“To my knowledge we did not.”

“Have you experimented on other Megaloids?”

“Yes,” he said, his tone apologetic.

“Are they still around to rescue?”

“Distant past, long gone,” he assured her. “Before this project. We couldn’t capture a Hadarak to study until you devised your Spaceball technology, so we sought knowledge from the capture and testing of others. Most were too dangerous to capture, but the lesser ones we managed to contain and learn from.”

“And you based these Uriti off that knowledge?”

“In small part, yes, but mostly we pursued variations in the Hadarak base code, which is far more complex than we imagined. What we lacked were the activation keys, so we had to create our own base code to fill in the gaps.”

“Activation keys?”

“Hadarak genetics contain nearly complete genetic codes for all their living technology. Only certain segments are missing, presumably to be supplied by courier.”

Kara’s head twisted slightly to the right. “Go on.”

Pol’ake looked down at her oddly. “You did not know?”

“We never found anything like that.”

The dragon hung his head slightly. “Most likely that is because they are only contained in specific tissues inside the Hadarak. Vivisection is required to discover them.”

“Then why didn’t the V’kit’no’sat know about them?”

“The genetic coding is of a type beyond their comprehension and hidden behind the more mundane structures. It is easily missed, and it is how we ensure security in our interfaces, for we possess the same dual coding structure.”

“One complete code and one partial one?”

“Ours is not partial, and the Hadarak are missing only minor sections. Once included they can manifest all their potential growths. Without it, the secondary genetics are dormant.”

“And what’s missing isn’t just out of place, but totally not there?”

“Correct.”

Kara sighed. “Then that’s what’s been going on. Every time the Hadarak up their game against us, they must be receiving unlocking codes rather than orders, and they simply fight at the peak of whatever ability is available to them. For some reason I was expecting something more refined.”

“Nothing is refined about the Hadarak. They are a crude, but effective race of mixed constructs. We attempted to add refinement to these Uriti, and only partially succeeded. However, there is one note in the database I downloaded that I was not previously aware of. Uriti #8 was designed to have a secondary purpose, and that purpose was tested in my absence with preliminary success.”

“What kind of weapon?”

The Zak’de’ron shook his head. “Not a weapon, though it has several masking its other purpose. In order to proceed in the future, we needed the ability to reproduce Uriti without relying on captured Hadarak. Uriti #8 was our first attempt to create a Uriti that could spawn others similar to how yours do, though we did not know your method other than the cloning factor. #8 successfully spawned test offspring that were little more than my size. They did not live long, but the fact that they existed at all is a success I had not been informed of.”

“Test offspring?” Kara asked, picking up on that phrase.

“We can input whatever genetics we wish the offspring to be. They do not have to be copies of #8, for the Uriti is meant to be an incubator, and the larger it grows the larger offspring it can theoretically produce. It was meant to replace the captured Hadarak before it eventually died due to experimentation complications.”

“Meaning you cut it up too much?”

“Methods you do not want to know about. Methods that, in retrospect, I wish I did not know about.”

“What were you planning to do with the Uriti after you had them perfected?”

“Conquer the Hadarak, and counterbalance you.”

“Not conquer us as well?”

“There was mixed debate about that. Your benign nature made it unnecessary as long as we held a position of dominance. These Uriti were going to be that dominance, for we intended to make them far more powerful than the Chixzon made theirs.”

“Did you succeed?”

“Crudely, yes,” he admitted with a spark of pride. “If you can keep them alive long enough to correct the crudeness.”

“Uriti genetics are locked. Did you find a way to alter them after spawning?”

“We designed them to have a single access point where we could upload alterations. It was necessary for the experimentation but we not intend it for the finished products.”

“Is that what the Neofan were doing?”

“No. We did not share that part with them. In fact, we did not share a lot with them. What they were doing, most likely, was a tissue probe that the Uriti destroyed each time. I have been examining that data since we left, though I haven’t gotten much out of it, for it was Neofan technology and not ours they were using, but the genetic code of all 8 Uriti has not altered in the slightest.”

“Keep looking,” Kara said, turning around and abruptly leaving.

“I’m sorry,” Pol’ake said as she was halfway to the door.

Kara stopped, but only turned her head to the left so she could see him with one eye. “For what?”

“For our disregard for the sovereignty of life.”

“Do you even know what those words mean?”

“Not fully, but I am beginning to sense the wrongness of what we have done. And our failure here has left you and the other Uriti with wounded individuals to try and heal. That is our fault.”

“Yes it is. And it’s why we never tried to create our own Uriti, knowing we’d have to go through the same trial and error phase and the horrors that would bring upon those that were spawned with unforeseen complications.”

“Does Star Force do no experimentation on any biology?” he asked hopefully, wanting to know if there was a way to ‘honorably’ do such things.

“Only when the alternative of doing nothing is worse for the test subjects,” she said, almost spitting the last two words. “We have found an indirect approach yields results when a sufficient intellect is injected into the process.”

“Then there is a way?”

“There usually is. It’s just not usually all that easy to find,” she said, leaving it at that and walking out with that bread crumb left for him to chew on.

And chew he did, for the challenge of superior intellect was one that always hit the Zak’de’ron hard. And he’d never considered that being superior meant taking anything less than a direct route…but if an indirect one meant the target could be spared in the process…

The epiphany was not a small one, and like the Uriti’s lightning bath the sudden realization peeled away a layer of suppression on Pol’ake’s mind as well as taking away the dread of having to use what Kara called ‘darkside methods’ in order to be effective. The Zak’de’ron had always believed so, because to them being effective was the goal. Until Star Force emerged, they had never seen evidence of light-handed methods being as effective, if not more so than a direct, brute force approach. The Zak’de’ron were not unaware of subtlety, but they were also not used to putting aside a quick and effective method to pursue a long and tedious one to the same results.

But if there were long and tedious pathways to do what had been believed could not be done by any other way, then finding them and using them would require a superior intellect that most of the galaxy could not measure up to.

And that, Pok’ake realized, was why the lightside was defaultly superior, and the darkside was the easily accessible tools of the brutes and barbarians who did not see past today and plan for tomorrow.

Why, for all of their lengthy planning, had the Zak’de’ron never realized the central flaw in their methods? It seemed so painfully obvious now, and everything Star Force had been doing over their short life now came into focus.

They were building to a future empire, and not taking shortcuts to do it. And that empire would be more powerful than all the other ones that had taken the easy, obvious path to lesser power. In the long run, the greatest power was lightside power. You just had to survive long enough to get to that point.

It was then that Pol’ake had a second revelation, for the way Star Force was built to shield others, even those that were not part of their empire, from harm, was giving them the time they needed to pursue lightside power…and if they were successful, this galaxy would grow beyond all the darkside powers in the neighboring galaxies. They were buying time for those who could not, who would have had no other option that to go to the darkside to survive.

They were giving them a choice and an opportunity to strive for real power. And if Star Force could continue to shield them within and without, the magnitude of their future empire would be beyond anything Pol’ake could imagine.

And that was the true definition of dominance.

Which meant he was right where a Zak’de’ron needed to be, and not with the rejects pursuing more darkside power beyond this galaxy.

4

June 18, 154966

UTOVI GALAXY

System 92881-44824

Shosta’tri’lak

Yui slammed his fist down on the tabletop so hard it flipped up part way before gravity dragged it back down, spilling the drinks of the three other Meerioss onto their laps or the floor.

“Curse the Neofan,” he said, drawing gasps from many, but not all. “If they had stayed we might be able to win some of these battles. What do they expect us to do? Die fighting for nothing?”

“That’s exactly what they expect us to do,” another fury Meerioss said, though most of his body was encased in civilian armor with a loose cloak over top of it, unlike the gleaming gold military suits visible on about half the denizens in the bar that was located a few hipcaps from the planet’s second largest military base. “The question is,” he said, not turning to look away from the news reel displaying battle imagery over the bar top, “what are you going to do?”

Yui stood up, knocking his chair over in the process despite the fact that he hadn’t had a sip of Truli since arriving an hour ago. He was too mad to drink. He walked over to the man and grabbed his head enough to make him face him as he pointed upwards with his free hand.

“You see these?” he asked, indicating the scars on his face. “They won’t heal. Some kind of poison damage from the Hadarak that makes the cells incapable of repair. I got these four missions ago. And this,” he said, letting go of the man’s head and pointing to a fresh wound on his elbow, “is from our last mission. Half our ship was torn away by a strand from the Pafdreng. As soon it touched our ship it disintegrated everything it passed through because our Essence shields had no fuel. The Neofan took it all with them, and what the crew can produce has to go to the weapons or we can’t damage them. This wound should be healed, but the medical equipment on our ship was damaged. Look at it. And ask me again what I’m doing. I’m fighting and I’m losing because our masters left us behind, and I don’t know what else to do about it.”

“As are many,” the man said, seeming to take no offense to the head twist that he was now free of. “The question is, do you continue as you are doing, or do you switch tactics.”

“The Pafdreng are too strong to take down without the Neofan. And we barely killed one with their help. Now they’re gone, or in the process of leaving. I’ve heard stories of both. But I can tell you that they’re not on the front lines, the back lines, or any combat lines. Their warships have disappeared, their planets emptied. They have abandoned us.”

“They are not all gone. Many Neofan were left behind to die as well.”

Yui frowned, wondering if the man was drunk. “How do you know that?”

“Because until a short time ago, I served House Mutavi,” he said, pulling down his neckline and showing the tattoo he had over his left pectoral. And it wasn’t the normal ranking tattoos they all possessed. His bore the mark of a Deoglade.

Yui staggered back two steps. “How is this possible?”

“It is possible because the Neofan who trained me had enough pity for my fate to allow me to escape rather than execute me. The other Deoglades, in all Houses, have been killed, not in combat, but by House Mutavi’s order. My master figured since the Neofan were leaving anyway, he could allow me to remain and die through other means, thus satisfying the order without having to personally betray me. Since then I have been exiled from service, and should I show myself in any House’s military the execution order will be carried out by those Neofan who still survive, but there will be no mention of it to the Meerioss, or the Nu’avi, or the Hee’va, or even the Tri’ma. The Neofan are taking care of our elimination themselves.”

“Why?” another Meerios asked while many were glaring at the man who was seeming to speak heresy…but the losses being taken across the galaxy had sobered them up enough to at least listen before they tore him apart.

“This galaxy is being abandoned. House Mutavi has taken another galaxy for their own. That’s where their warships are. Kicking out the Hadarak so they can rebuild away from the Pafdreng. This galaxy is forfeit, and they want to make sure it falls uniformly in case the Pafdreng leave early or the Hadarak pull back to avoid engaging them. They want their powerbase destroyed in full, not to leave pieces of it for others to find and use. For some reason they think the Deoglades might be able to eek out a small victory, enough to survive and become a problem later.”

“And you claim the Neofan are sacrificing their own in this pullout?” Yui demanded.

“They have too many to take with them, and not enough Temples to hide in…but you wouldn’t know what a Temple was, nor how many of them are hidden around this galaxy as safe havens for some of the Neofan to survive in while the rest of us burn. Come to think of it, that’s probably another reason they want us dead. So you guys don’t go storming their safe havens. Or maybe it’s so the other Neofan won’t. I wonder if they know.”

“Are you really a Deoglade?” another Meerioss in the crowd asked. “Or is that a heretical copy?”

“It and I are real,” he said, showing it once again before covering back up. “And I am finding less and less worlds to travel to ahead of the Pafdreng, and I am cut off from both the Stri and Porto Regions by the Hadarak. This is the largest intact system the Meerioss have left, though they won’t say that,” he said, pointing to the viewscreen. “They want you all to bravely keep dying, thinking there is hope, so that all their creations are disposed of just in case we thought about running away to live another day.”

“Run away to where?” Yui challenged. “The Hadarak will consume everything in this galaxy.”

“There are other galaxies, and the nearest ones can be reached without Essence.”

“Only from the Core,” another Meerioss said, the highest ranking in the room, as he walked forward with the crowd parting to clear his way. “And it is besieged. Jumping from the rim would require stasis travel, and our physiology will not permit it.”

“But others could,” the Deoglade noted. “Plus there are intermediary galaxy fragments much closer. One of our ships could reach them in approximately 13 years.”

A murmur coursed around the room, with the hard, fanatical edge lifting.

“You’d have to fill half a ship with supplies to last that long,” the Ju’ie said, which was the rank of commander for an infantry unit across all Neofan servant races.

“But it’s possible, and they don’t want you to know that. They want their technology, training, and knowledge kept within their control. And if they are losing this galaxy, they have to make sure it will all be destroyed. And the Neofan that are being given refuge in this galaxy’s Temples are going to make sure nothing survives…even if they have to sabotage our efforts to defend ourselves.”

“We can’t defend ourselves,” Yui pleaded. “We are all going to die and there is nothing we can do about it. The Neofan don’t have to kill any of us. The Pafdreng and Hadarak are going to do it on their own.”

“True. I think the Neofan are very possessive, and they can’t handle the thought of us rallying under our own command. So they took away our leadership to ensure we die scattered, broken, and…helpless,” he said, finally looking at the rest of the crowd behind him. “This galaxy is beyond saving.”

“So you come here to drink your way into oblivion before your belated death?” another Meerioss said, one clearly near that point himself given the way he slurred his words.

“I have decided that I would try to survive. My service to the Neofan is ended, by their choice, and I am now free to do what I want with my remaining years. I have been looking for a way to rally our race, or others, towards a winnable scenario…but I have found none, so I have not emerged to take command. And if I did so, Neofan would most likely hunt me down and kill me…but it’s a big galaxy and their communication systems are going down everywhere, so after a while they wouldn’t notice. I planned to make my move then, in one defiant last stand if that was all I could manage. I’m a warrior. I want to die as a warrior if I cannot live as one. The Neofan did not give me that, and they gave the others the ultimate betrayal. We are loyal, but that loyalty…I do not have the words. I still cannot fathom it some days, but it is what it is. And the question to you,” he said, looking back at Yui, “is what are you going to do?”

“You’re saying the Neofan still here won’t help us at all?”

“They’re going to die defending their own worlds, for their warships have been taken away. They only have planetary defenses and patrol craft left. We helped obscure their withdrawal, then they silenced those who knew of it. I think they feared an uprising that would interfere with their exit.”

“You said they are still leaving now?” the Ju’ie pressed.

“Hard to say, but since Essence is the issue, the more collected means the more that can leave. So there will probably be a small flow leaving up until they are all dead.”

“Are they taking any servants with them?”

“Not many. Perhaps none at all. The Neofan go first, but there are some servants in other galaxies already, so I would guess they would be used to restart the population if desired.”

“What other galaxies?” Yui asked.

“There is much we were forbidden from telling you. The Neofan have assets elsewhere, but they are sparse and in conjunction with an alliance of empires that are fighting the Hadarak across many galaxies. There is a Rim-side transportation system built to facilitate travel between galaxies without having to jump the Core or go the slow route in stasis. It requires a large amount of Essence to use, but it is quite efficient. This is how the Neofan are escaping. They are not going through the Core. The Hadarak have it blockaded beyond our ability to fight past with any certainty.”

“Are we forbidden from using these escape routes using our own Essence?” the Ju’ie asked.

“No,” the Deoglade said firmly. “But you must have an escort, and most people in this galaxy don’t even know they exist.”

“Can we follow the Neofan to their new galaxy?” another asked.

“We have been ordered to fight to the death. If we show up there, we will most likely be executed. I will be, for certain, but there are many other galaxies we could go to. Not all of us. Very few of us, actually. But some Meerios could survive.”

“Then why are you here drinking instead of running?” Yui accused, still not fully believing he was one of the Neofan’s legendary commanders.

“Because I have been contacted by the Rudumak. They have delivered a message to me, and to others of influence that are not Neofan. There is an empire in another galaxy, far from here, that wishes to acquire our skills for their own use, and they are willing to provide the Essence necessary for our escape if we bring certain artifacts with us, and the Rudumak are offering to act as our escort through the intergalactic network.”

“What artifacts?” the Ju’ie asked.

“There is a long list, and all of them are Neofan artifacts they did not take with them. Many will be trying to acquire them, quietly, so they can escape this galaxy. We have a shot at claiming one, and only one of them. And it is on Dragiel.”

Yui punched bar top, which vibrated but did not move. “I was on Dragiel. The Hadarak have infested it.”

“But it has not completely fallen. If the artifact is still intact, and we can claim it, I can save several million Meerios. But I have to have a warfleet to do it. That’s why I am here.”

“In a bar?” someone else blurted out.

“Yes, in a bar, taking the measure of your will to fight. Most other worlds have given up, but not all of you have. You want a mission that is possible?” he said to Yui directly. “I am giving you one. Perhaps the only one, while this galaxy burns around us. If we stay, we will be consumed by it one way or another. Our only chance of victory is to escape it, but that route requires us to move into the fire and face the enemy directly. Do you have the will left to do that? Or have your wounds tallied up so much that you cannot summon the courage required under their weight?”

“You must be mad,” Yui accused, but the others were not so combative. In fact they were dead silent, all staring at him. “This is not possible.”

“Unlikely, but not impossible,” the Deoglade said, rising from his stool and assuming the rigid posture that he had previously lacked on entry. The posture of a commander who was not inclined to accept argument. “If I assume command of this system, will you follow me over the orders of the Neofan who remain, if they should show themselves?”

“If you are who you say you are,” the Ju’ie said, “then the answer is yes.”

Others nodded in triplicate, the Meerioss gesture of agreement as the slight air sacks on their chin bobbed with the movement.

“There used to be Neofan on Dragiel,” Yui warned.

“It was owned by House Mutavi. I am told all of the ruling House are being evacuated. It is the other Houses who have to choose who to evacuate and who to leave behind. Dragiel is most likely abandoned by the Neofan, as you said before. Are you now going to defend them and try to kill me?” he challenged.

“I don’t know who you are,” Yui said flatly.

“You will shortly. The planet will know shortly. You have some time to make your choice. Those who fight with me will be taken away if we are successful. Those who do not will have to wait in line. I do not know how many I can save, but they will all come from this system, and in this system’s ships. We will fill them up and leave the others behind, because we have no choice other than to stay and die fighting with them.”

“You’ll leave them totally defenseless?” Yui accused.

“Will this system stand otherwise?”

Yui and everyone else in the room knew the truth, and no one contradicted him.

“I have already been betrayed, as have you, you just haven’t understood the full depth of that betrayal. I wished to continue serving the Neofan. I still wish it. But it is impossible. We have been discarded, and since our fate is now in our own hands, I choose to try and live rather than die fighting a hopeless fight. If the Neofan do not approve of this I no longer care. I want to be loyal, but given what I know, what was told to me bluntly by my master, I cannot. And I will not die as they wish. I do not want to spite them, but the warrior in me says I must. If this other empire in another galaxy wishes our services, I will take my chance with them, but that chance must be earned, and Dragiel will not give up its prize easily. And the longer we wait, the harder the fight will be. Now is the only time, and the other artifacts are impossible for us to get to.”

“What is the artifact?” someone asked.

“The Zanderline,” he said, receiving outbursts as he said the name of the holiest Neofan relic in the Region, dating back to an era in their history before the Meerioss even existed. It was said to give the Neofan it blessed special powers, and no Meerioss were allowed to lay eyes upon it inside its protective spire. “The Neofan did not take it with them. And this other Empire wants it and they are willing to pay our travel price in Essence for it.”

“What is the name of this empire?” Yui asked.

“I am told they are currently engaged in a war against the Hadarak, and are winning it,” the Deoglade said with more emotion than intended. “Their name is Star Force.”

5

September 28, 154966

UTOVI GALAXY

System 85919-33913

Low stellar orbit

“Different than you remember?” the Deoglade asked Yui, whom he’d taken as his assistant onboard the warship Aph-Ri-Nemena at the head of a Meerioss warfleet…everything Shosta’tri’lak had available, leaving the planet and system defenseless until the enemy came within range of the surface batteries, which hardly mattered, for they were going to lose regardless.

“They’re everywhere now,” he said, watching the system readouts update as the fleet finished coming out of their jumppoint. “When I was here, we were extricating certain Neofan from the surface and lost half our men doing it. I don’t see how we’re going to get the Zanderline out now.”

“How many others were left then?”

“Pieces of 6 planets, four others that hadn’t been hit yet,” Yui said, standing tall in his smooth and glossy battle armor as he held his helmet under his right arm.

“Meaning they left them behind.”

“Our orders were to get the Neofan out. Nobody else.”

“Then let’s see if anyone is left in the fight,” the Deoglade said, gesturing to another Meerioss on the bridge who opened a system-wide comm on their encrypted frequencies and sent out a recognition pulse. Any units still present would respond, knowing that the Hadarak couldn’t monitor such transmissions…which was a major reason why all Neofan ships had been refitted with the odd communications transmitters once the invasion of this galaxy had begun, as well as issuing them to ground forces. Hadarak could see many types of energies, including gravity, but they didn’t have omni-vision, and this one they were completely oblivious to.

“Dispatch diversion task forces,” the Deoglade ordered, with the fleet breaking up and heading on different vectors as the Hadarak clustered around several planets with lesser formations around the others. All were infested, but they hadn’t owned this system long. There were no surface to orbit growths, and stellar orbit was clear of them save for a few scouts. That meant they were still in assault mode, and needed their void spawn on the planets to go after the enemies there rather than worry about catching others who might be dropping in.

It took more than half an hour before the first return ping came, and after it a slew followed as the comm lag ran its course, giving the Meerioss fleet an updated map of who was where and in what condition. As it turned out there was a lot of resistance activity going on, and a few chunks of the population were still alive, though besieged in underground sections of the city structure.

“Dragiel has succumbed,” he noted.

“It was hit first,” Yui attested.

“And because of that, most of the heavy combat units have been repositioned to other planets,” he said, keying his intra-fleet comm channel on his console that stood before his command throne and extended up to his elevated position. “Diversion task forces will engage at will, but if you have the opportunity to reliably evac some of the besieged troops do so. If you cannot, feint an attempt. I need their Trugo away from Dragiel without time to intercept,” he said, noting the position of three of the massive moon-sized carrier/bases the Hadarak used.

He had nothing to take one out, let alone three, but they were slow and could be avoided so long as you had the ability to destroy their void spawn. If you couldn’t, they’d disable and drag you down, but Meerioss warships were built to avoid such instances, so as long as they could get to their target and had ample time to retrieve it before a Trugo came and landed on them, they should be able to pull this off.

“Harvid…” the Deoglade said, addressing one ship commander specifically. “I need you to watch for any Zoku that move towards us. Engage them away from the planet, and at least delay them from getting to us. Extraction is going to be a vulnerable operation.”

“I understand. Am I to operate independently?”

“At your discretion, but I recommend letting the distraction task forces draw their attention first.”

The Meerioss bowed his large head, then his hologram faded from the bridge as his ship veered away from the few others that were left alongside the Deoglade’s flagship. He let the other units get a head start, then had his ships head towards a different target, intending to microjump off a smaller planet near to Dragiel to disguise their true destination for as long as possible.

“You look confused Yui.”

“Our ships can win these naval battles, but once we put troops on the ground we will be overrun.”

“How many did you face last time you were here?”

“Less than are on the planet now.”

“Were they spread?”

“No,” he admitted. “They were focused on certain sectors.”

“And now they have no idea where we are going. If we delay too long, they will mass against us and the ground teams will be met with escalating resistance. But we can handle their initial response if we do not allow them to focus on one location. That is why we will be landing in 5 different locations on the planet before heading to the Zanderline.”

“We’re splitting our ground teams as well?” Yui asked aghast.

“Trust me. This will work. The Hadarak are reactive, not proactive. When you’re overwhelmed you don’t have the luxury to observe what is going on. But they are not complicated in their maneuvers. They go where the threat is, or where their objective is. We can use this basic nature to misdirect them.”

“Will the ground teams be rescuing…”

“No,” the Deoglade said firmly, but with a tinge of regret. “If there were any on Dragiel I would send them, but I cannot have ground teams on other planets, for the effect is a local one. It must be the enemy units on Dragiel that are distracted. Do you understand this?”

“I understand you are sending men to fight and die for no objective.”

“Moving the enemy away from the Zanderline is the objective, though I understand your reaction. They will not be left behind. They only need to convincingly distract them for the duration of our extraction. Less actually, for they will pull out before the Zanderline, knowing that the Hadarak can only travel so fast across the surface.”

“Why are you explaining these thing to me?”

“Because you are a man who needs answers, and after the betrayal of the Neofan, I want it to be perfectly clear that I will not betray any of you.”

“But will this Star Force?”

“I don’t know,” the Deoglade said honestly. “But this is the only possible future we have. If they betray us, we are no worse off than we were before. If they deliver on their promise, then we have a way out of this collapsing galaxy. We have nothing to lose by trying, so I choose to pursue the uncertain future rather than consign myself to certain destruction.”

“Then may I join one of the diversion teams?”

“If you can convince me you are not suicidal.”

Yui’s head came up, and despite the glorified rank this man held, he could not bring himself to obey humbly. “I will do my duty.”

“As far as the Neofan are concerned your duty is to die and cleanse this galaxy of any of their former property. What is your duty now?”

“To save as many of us as possible,” he said firmly.

“That includes yourself,” the Deoglade said, looking back at the tactical holograms as a few more local units identified themselves. “Correction. It seems there is at least one survivor on Dragiel. A small unit hiding out. 8 individuals reported. Would you like to go after them instead?”

“Neofan?”

“No. It is a Nu’avi unit.”

Yui bristled. The Nu’avi were not always on good terms with the Meerioss, and their hairless flesh stank with brine, but they were fellow warriors serving the Neofan…which now meant what?

“I will go if you allow it.”

“Permission granted. The mission is yours to command. Organize your assault force.”

Yui stood still in shock, for he was so low ranking that he was further away from command than he was the mechanics.

The Deoglade saw his confusion. “I am giving you a field commission of Par’gi. Now go. When we hit the atmosphere your team will launch immediately.”

Yui nodded, but was still too stunned to speak, so he simply turned and walked off the bridge, not believing what had just happened.

But then again, with the galaxy burning, what did ranks matter? Still…

Yui stood shoulder to shoulder with other Meerioss warriors, all dressed in golden armor and carrying a crooked rifle over their left shoulders, a double barreled pistol on their right hips, and a shield gauntlet over their left forearms that was heavy and hard to move, but when activated it would provide more than thirty times the protection of their body armor, so it was worth the effort when going into a highly lethal environment.

The new Par’gi blended in with is troops seamlessly, with no outward visual markers to identify him, but on the visual overlay inside their helmets, additional data was added beyond rank. Strengths, loadouts, experience level, and current status were all visible at a glance, and most of the Meerioss around him had experience bars far larger than his.

But his octagonal cylinder gave him the prestige level that none of the others could match, in that it confirmed his full command of the mission in addition to his rank marker. He had 328 men with him onboard four landing ships and another 6 starfighers to provide aerial cover, not to mention the automated Sho’joo that would be guarding the landing site.

The landing ships had been shot out of the underside of the flagship as it skipped across the surface of Dragiel’s atmosphere, popping them out not over their target, but a fair ways from it to distract the Hadarak on the surface. Yui saw his starfighters immediately dive to take out a scattering of anti-air batteries as a few of the shots made it to his landing ship and thumped against the strong energy shields that would protect it all the way to their target.

The Hadarak were not stronger than the Neofan empire, but what they had was numbers, and reinforcements could be grown on site in a matter of weeks for the smaller units. And this planet had far more time to reinforce itself now that most resistance had been eliminated.

When the landing ships finally touched down everyone was given the order to leave, even Yui, as the pilots handled the landing. Doors on three sides peeled open, and the troops poured out through the semi-clear containment shields that would prevent any projectiles from entering the troop bay.

He ran out with the others, then his helmet began pinging questions from his various sub-commanders about how to proceed. Yui answered back silently, using an integrated command system that he could access with a combination of eyeline tracking and mental activation. The Meerioss had never used it in this fashion before, but he was well acquainted with the technology and was able to send out detailed orders within a few seconds splitting up his men and having them fan out on various missions.

They entered combat seconds later as the Hadarak came to them, or they went to the Hadarak, but it was light resistance. Yui didn’t even get to fire a shot, for the troops staying with him were moving around him in a phalanx and gunned down the approaching crawling spawn before he could even get a clear line of sight.

As the rest of the teams moved out to engage, his group of 15 and another of 8 headed towards the beacon location, with the latter proceeding them until they hit a patch of resistance. They dove into it, allowing Yui’s team to skirt around the perimeter while the enemy was distracted and get close to the half-destroyed building ahead where the signal was coming from.

They didn’t get there unmolested, for a wave of aerial Dupla came in and strafed them with acid…but it just rolled off their armor, not affecting their shields that were programmed to let it through unless their armor was breached. That was a trick they’d learned long ago, and it saved shield strength that the acid otherwise would have tore away quickly.

Yui pulled out his pistol and fired up into the stream of fleshy bodies racing over their heads, hitting something before they were gone…though several had careened into the ground nearby with two Meerioss running that way momentarily to end any survivors before they had a chance to explode with their full acid reservoir going everywhere. That only happened when they chose to do it, and that was when they were wounded and unable to fly. Quick shots to their heads or their long necks did the trick, leaving the acid in their underbellies to sit in their organs until it quickly decomposed within a few hours without the necessary enzymes being produced to maintain it.

One more wave of Dupla came at them from a different direction before they got to the building, then they had to crawl around the debris to find a way inside, but the Meerioss could jump several meters with ease, and most of the debris was smaller than that. An entry point on the second level was discovered, and one or two at a time Yui’s unit went indoors and moved through the elliptical hallways as they tracked down the beacon.

He expected to have been met by the Nu’avi as soon as they entered the building, but that didn’t happen. No living Hadarak were in here either, but the smell of death was everywhere. Gore lined the walls, but most of the pieces had been removed…most likely eaten by other Hadarak to conserve biomass. They wouldn’t usually eat enemies, but they would eat their own dead after the fighting was over in some cases depending on which type of spawn they were. And it looked like they had already cleared this building.

But when he got within a few dozen meters of the signal the sight of a pile of Nu’avi bodies nearly made him retch, even given the reduction filters on his helmets breathing vents. There were hundreds of them here, and piled up neatly into one large mound…and from inside that mount the transmitter was signaling.

“Is anyone alive in here?” Yui called out as his men circled the room searching, but finding no one.

“Someone had to activate the transmitter,” the trooper beside him noted just before the pile of dead moved slightly in one spot…then in two more. Slowly several living Nu’avi climbed out from under the pile of dead, sliding on lubrication from the blood as the pressure of all the dead weight tried to pin them in place.

And out of that mess came 8 rail-thin Nu’avi with no armor and gore-covered clothes that were more or less intact.

“Nutrient packs,” Yui ordered, with two of his unit pulling small circles out of the hump on their back that contained a small space for cargo. They pressed them on the exposed skin of the Nu’avi that were trying to speak but for some reason unable to, with condensed food being injected directly into their blood streams.

Yui pulled out his own water rations, two of them anyway, and gave them to the nearest two Nu’avi as other members of his team did likewise. Most barely responded, looking like they were about to keel over dead, but one was more animated than the rest and sucked down the water gladly before looking up at Yui from his kneeling position as he sat on his tail that should have been twice as thick as it was now.

“Where…did…you come…from?” he asked, his voice raw and dry.

“We’re here temporarily on a retrieval mission. We’re taking you out with us.”

“We…were…aban…doned. Neofan…left…us…behind.”

“I know. I was here to get them out. A Deoglade decided to come back. Can you walk?”

He responded by standing…and collapsing back to his knees after a few wobbly steps.

“Carry them, two each,” he ordered, with some of his men pulling their gauntlets off and snapping them onto their backs in a crude carry position so they could free up both of their huge arms which easily picked up the starving Nu’avi one in each.

Yui signaled his other teams out engaging the Hadarak that they needed cover so they could run the Nu’avi straight back without having to stop to fight, and he saw a scattering of unit icons on his local map moving to adjust into skirmisher positions along the route they were going to have to take.

“Ready?” he asked as the others picked up all the Nu’avi and got into a line with the cargo in the center.

A series of grunts answered in the affirmative, with Yui taking up position at the head of the line and activated his gauntlet, with it expanding into a physical shield as wide as his body, and out of that energy extensions provided more protection while allowing the necessary sight to navigate.

“Forward!” he yelled, taking off running with the others tucked in behind him in a stagger formation.

6

Yui’s column was almost back to their landing craft but all of them had their energy shields depleted, or nearly so, as the Hadarak seemed to be coming out of everywhere and filling the horizon as they converged on and attempted to kill the Meerioss and their cargo. Projectiles and biologically created energy blasts zipped and zinged everywhere, often into other Hadarak, but Yui’s starfighters were strafing the largest groups on the ground while trying to fend for themselves in the now clogged sky.

He could fire upwards and have a decent chance of hitting an aerial Hadarak, for the sky was full of the smallest ones with a scattering of the larger. Their flocks were growing even as the starfighters plowed them out of the sky with their ramming wedges, dropping their incinerated carcasses down like rain onto the rubble strewn ground.

As for Yui, he was now middle of the pack as his shield gauntlet had been depleted and destroyed. Another two had taken the lead, alternating against the heaviest firepower until they were likewise depleted…but they were nearly back, and Yui could already hear the landing ship’s perimeter guns firing as well as the Sho’joo’s thuds as its mechanical feet plodded around the four craft and the mechanized walker tackled the largest enemy grouped with overwhelming firepower. Those few that got through were audible in the zapping sound of the defense field frying any who touched it.

And that’s what most of the Hadarak on the ground were engineered to do. Physical assaults with either club-like limbs, cutting claws, piercing teeth, or acid glands. Yui could out run most of them, but having to carry the Nu’avi meant the group had to move as slowly as their heaviest carry, so many of the crawlers were catching them from behind and had to be fought hand to hand on the run.

But his unit was managing, and before long another strafing run cleared the path away enough for him to see the landing craft with piles of dead spawn heaped up on one side of it…with others crawling on them to try and get over the top. But the shield was spherical and there was no top, yet that didn’t stop them from killing themselves on it to make footsteps for the others to follow on until the Sho’joo walked around the perimeter and cleared them off once again.

Typical, brainless swarm tactics…but the pressure on the shield that kept incinerating everything it touched had a draining effect, and every piece of technology had its limit. Fortunately the landing ships hadn’t reached it’s yet, and a portion of the shield turned blue, indicating that you could pass through it slowly, but no energy weapons or high velocity projectiles would.

Yui and his team ran right up to it and inside the protective umbrella, with the last member in line turning and throwing an Essence wave back into those following him to give the pilots enough time to transfer the shield back to normal.

He immediately switched over to command data on his helmet, checking on where his other teams were and finding all but two were back in the vicinity of the landing ships.

“Everyone recall,” he ordered as the Nu’avi were carried up the ramp but the rest of his unit stayed underneath the shield yet outside the ship as they stood ready to fight again as needed. Yui assigned evac routes to three positions on the shield, ordering three new ‘gates’ opened in it, and soon his other units began filing back inside in spurts.

Then one of his starfighters took a critical hit and spiraled down into the landscape with an unimpressive thud as it hit and stuck in the ground, killing a few Hadarak on impact, but with the rest immediately swarming it. Yui knew the pilot would be dead before he could get a team to him, so he ignored his fate and focused on the rest. A few minutes later the last of the ground team came through carrying a Meerioss missing a leg, but all were accounted for.

The shield sealed up again as the ship continued to fire down from extended turret bulges poking out through it ever so slightly so it could cover the ground immediately around the shield perimeter. The crawlers that had no more targets to go after were now swarming the shield and ramming it…to their deaths…but more and more came and tried, with two more piles adding up on the opposite side of the main one.

If they got too large the ship would have trouble taking off. Yui had seen it before, but they weren’t there yet.

He made sure he was the last person up the ramp, then stayed at the door as it sealed before giving the order to lift off. The incineration shield had to drop to do so, with the normal hull-tight defense shields reassuming as power that had been going to power the incineration now had to be diverted to the engines.

The agile and streamlined craft lifted off, leaving the Sho’joo behind to fight to its destruction, and pushed through dead and living spawn alike as an flock of aerial Hadarak rammed it and splattered engine dampening goo across the shields in splots.

The ship fell to the ground, hitting on its still extended landing skids as the shields remodulated and shirked off the goo, then it took off again only to get hit a second time at higher altitude. They nearly dropped, but managed to repeat the process while still in the air and gaining horizontal speed.

Turrets on the sides of the landing craft racked up kills, but the flocks were thick and without the starfighters moving in to assist the landing craft would never have gotten up to speed. Once they did the enemy could only ram from one direction, with those approaching from behind not having the necessary collision inertia to splatter themselves on their targets. They bounced off when they hit, while those ahead ran into concentrated firepower from the landing ships with the starfighters peeling off as much heat as they could.

Another one of them went down in the effort, then the landing ships were pulling up out of the atmosphere where most of the flyers could not go on their biological wings…but naval spawn were descending towards them in their own flocks, though they were intercepted by long range fire from the nearest warship as Yui’s command raced towards it.

As soon as they were mostly in the clear, he turned his attention to the other distraction assaults as well as the main attack on the Zanderline…only to see shield walls set up around the site on the ground creating a second perimeter beyond the main shield dome covering the artifact as it was being dug out of the ground.

Yui had no idea how big it was beneath the surface, but already he could see it was at least twice as deep as it was high, looking like a giant crescent but missing the smooth curves.

“Pilot, redirect our course towards the Zanderline enroute to the warship.”

“That’s not a enroute. It’s far out of our way.”

“Do so, but keep our altitude,” he said, reaching back and pulling off his survival pack augment that was plugged into the omni slot between his armor’s shoulder blades. He walked over to an equipment wall in the landing craft and opened a cabinet, pulling out a jump pack and clicking it into the empty armor slot.

“They’re not going to be able to hold the site long enough to get the Zanderline out,” he told everyone in the hold. “I’m going down to help them. I’m ordering you back to the warship and you can be reassigned from there. If you feel like disobeying orders and following me to your death, I won’t stop you.”

Yui didn’t stand around and count. Instead he moved to another locker to get another shield gauntlet as well as some additional weapons. He’d seen what was going on down there in a single glance, and knew they were all going to die unless they abandoned the Zanderline and pulled out…which they couldn’t. They would be as good as dead without their price of passage out of this galaxy, and Yui didn’t intend to wait and watch while someone else determined his fate.

When the landing ship eventually came into the hazard zone, Yui had to tell the pilots to ignore the wave off orders coming from the local commanders, then he and as many who wished to follow jumped out of the ship as it flew, falling down through the sky towards the surface miles below.

Yui saw dozens of dots pop up behind him, then the landing ship quickly redirected course and shot away from the Zanderline as 42 Meerioss in armor fell through a free fire zone around the shield perimeter, with Yui angling to come down in the gap between the outer shield walls and the primary shield.

He let his speed continue to accelerate, but their arrival was not unnoticed and a section of the local flock of spawn turned their way, causing him to lead the others in an acceleration horizontally as they fell, making them race around the curve of the bubble-like shield covering the section of the city with the Zanderline in it.

Two of his men were hit, literally, as the spawn rammed them and knocked them out of formation…but the Hadarak died and the Meerioss flew back towards the group, though lagging behind as some of them tried to take shots at their pursuers, but firing backwards without being able to look more than over your shoulder wasn’t very effective.

“I need four high and everyone else to pivot and fire,” Yui said, seeing four volunteers move upwards slightly. “Now!”

The four continued to fly, but increased their altitude, drawing the flock with them somewhat as the rest of the Meerioss turned around and braked, essentially standing in air as they got their faces towards their pursuers and opened fire with pistols that were easily accessible on their hips despite the harsh wind pushing at their backs.

Their firing wasn’t accurate, but it was decent and they didn’t spare any ammo, cutting into the leading edge of the chasing flock before it had a chance to divert. Several spawn rammed the Meerioss, on accident this time, knocking them out of formation, until the rest of the Hadarak scattered in the confusion and lost their attack profile.

“Dive!” he ordered, taking advantage of the momentary lapse as all of his men accelerated straight down towards the ground and gave up their chase around the perimeter. They ran hard down, using gravity to their advantage, then braked at the last moment to allow them just enough time to null out their fall as they turned and flew a few meters over the cityscape, with Yui holding up long enough for all the rest to catch him, then they flew firing down on the Hadarak as they headed for the nearest gap in the outer shield wall on their left while the main spherical shield was on their right.

And all matter of carnage was happening in between.

The outer wall had gaps in it on purpose, to force the Hadarak through them where the Meerioss had heavy weapons ready to slaughter them, but too many were getting through, and the aerial spawn could still attack from above, as well as pick up and deliver the crawlers one at a time to drop in behind the heavy guns.

One of those gun batteries was where Yui decided to make their stand, flying his unit through the air up to the perimeter of the walking platform that had multiple weapons on it, but the main gun was a continuous beam that was filling a third of the shield gap ahead of them and waving back and forth trying to hit as many minions as it could that were pouring through in an ocean of hardened flesh.

Yui dropped to the ground, glad to have his feet back on a solid surface and eliminating a hemisphere of potential attack vectors for the enemy. He pulled out his shield gauntlet and ordered the others behind him, with one other Meerioss coming up alongside him and doing the same, creating a joint barrier as they ran towards the nearest glut of Hadarak that were assaulting the flank of the gun battery.

And there is where they would fight their last fight, as warriors, not helpless victims. They had a mission to accomplish, and each one of them bought as much time for that gun battery as was physically possible before it was eventually overrun and knocked to the ground by spawn climbing upon spawn in a living tidal wave of mass.

Yui and the others bought them a total of 19 minutes, and in those 19 minutes the gun battery killed more than 400,000 Hadarak. Far more than Yui’s unit could have hoped to achieve on their own.

Their deaths were well spent, as were the deaths of all the other elite troops fighting around the perimeter as excavation units continued to cut down into the bedrock and free the underside of the Zanderline as hovering cranes were already ready to pull it out the moment the base was free.

The Deoglade watched the carnage below, proud at how well the Meerioss fought and equally dismayed by the ferocity and numbers of units the Hadarak were able to move across the planet so fast to counter them. His team had been at the Zanderline for less than 3 hours, and already it was a hopeless situation being held on to by the sacrifice of his men, most of whom were now dead, with the last survivors retreating into the giant transparent blue bubble covering the site as the Hadarak began beating on it with their full force around the exterior as the warships kept the naval spawn away.

They almost had it. The Deoglade felt how close they were, and knew this was going to go their way or the enemy’s based on a number of minutes. He watched as the cutting teams tore out the bedrock around the unknown subterranean shape of the artifact, finally getting under it with only a few more minutes of cleaning around the rest of the base needed.

As they did, burrowing Hadarak units were coming under the shield perimeter, with special defense units that the Deoglade had ordered inside to wait for just this threat responding immediately to keep them off the excavators. The retreating troops from outside aided them in this as the Deoglade’s hearts were pounding so hard in his chest he could hear the thumps over his shallow breathing. The margin here was razor thin, and this was the moment of truth.

Breaches in the shield started to form, with the weak spots glowing before they actually broke so those inside would be warned. When they did, only a few Hadarak slipped through before they reformed, but that scattering of units was increasing with each minute that passed, and put an increased strain on the last of the defense troops, but they were holding. Feverishly holding with a vigor the Deoglade had not seen in his race for centuries. They had an attainable victory before them, not another hopeless, pointless holding action merely delaying their demise. This was a way out for some of them, and they were going to fight to the death to insure that at least some Meerioss made it out of this galaxy to tell the tale of those who had fallen and keep their race from total extinction.

They fought harder than hard, with such speed and accuracy that the Deoglade became distracted watching their final stand and missed the release of the Zanderline. The cranes pulled it up immediately, with it moving a third of its height before the Deoglade realized it.

He immediately sent in landing craft to pick up the remaining troops as the building-tall blood red artifact was pulled up through the shield dome and allowed to pass through the top…with swarms of starfighters moving around it in escort formation, along with several shield barges that flew in parallel with their prize and extended their protective auras around it.

The Deoglade gave the pullback order to the diversionary attacks across the system, but there weren’t many troops or ships left alive to contact. The few that were responded instantly…as they were able. Some were doomed, unable to move or stranded on the ground with no landing ships able to get to them.

The Deoglade saw all this, as he had seen it before. Most coming here knew it would probably end like this, but he had promised them that victory was possible, and as the Zanderline pulled up out of the shield bubble completely as the multi-color sheen below attested to it being near total collapse, that great red crescent was their victory in progress, and was visible to all those nearby who were not going to make it off this planet as it rose up into orbit and was slid inside a waiting warship as others were nearby fighting and taking massive damage to shield the one tagged for transport of the artifact.

The Deoglade gave it the highest priority, even over his own flagship, and had it moving off towards the star before the last of the evaced troops made it into space. He stayed behind until the last of the landing ships docked, saying a silent farewell to the dead and those left behind that were about to join them.

Then he ordered his remaining ships…less than a quarter of the number that had arrived…back to the star and out of the system before more enemy reinforcements could get to them and take back what they’d just stolen from their conquerors.

7

January 3, 154967

UTOVI GALAXY

System 92881-44824

Low Stellar Orbit

The Deoglade sat in his quarters with his upper tunic removed. The fur on his arms and neck was missing on his chest, making his ranking tattoo show easily on his nearly white skin. His fur was dark brown and his smooth face was speckled with spots of orange…the sign of his Clan, or rather his former Clan before becoming Deoglade.

When that occurred his name was erased and he became his position, which was one of only a rare few within the Meerioss that could command all. When the Neofan gave him an order, it was his responsibility to carry it out as he saw fit, for they did not care about procedure, only results, and it had been previous Deoglades who had shaped the Meerioss into what they were…or rather what they had been. His race was being exterminated, and unless other Neofan had pity on their Deoglades as his master had, he was most likely the last of his kind.

His rank came with more than a tattoo, for within him was knowledge encoded into his mind. Knowledge the other Meerioss did not have, and were not meant to have. Knowledge of more than their race. Knowledge of combat and how to wield one’s body as a weapon. Knowledge of Essence techniques beyond his skill. Knowledge of a great many things that had been given to him to make him a better servant of the Neofan. But none of those things would allow the Meerioss to survive in this galaxy. Without the Neofan, their twin enemies were too powerful to defeat in more than a few battles.

The Deoglade’s life was destroyed, yet he still lived. The pain in this did not twist into despair or panic. He did not lash out at the walls or throw himself into a rage. He analyzed and mitigated. Making good on what he had available to him even as everything else fell and was beyond his saving. But inside him, deep down beneath the numbing, he was in agony. The one constant in his life was the Neofan…their leadership, their superiority, their trust. The Meerioss owed them everything and would gladly die fighting by their side.

But they weren’t even given that. They’d been discarded, and the Deoglades betrayed as little more than outdated equipment that had to be decommissioned. And that hurt. It more than hurt. It threatened to break his nerve…yet his nerve was unbreakable. The Neofan had seen to that in his training and testing.

He was leading what was left of his warfleet back to their home port rather than heading straight to the Outer Rim. Most of the people in the system would be left behind, but he would take as many as possible. He steeled himself to the fact that he was going to have to turn away so many, but again, this was mitigation. Without his efforts they would all die, and leaving the warships behind would not save them.

Still, he did not like taking away their only defense fleet. But it would be destroyed if it stayed here, for there was no way to save the system from the Hadarak when they arrived. Everyone that remained here was as good as dead. Sadly this system hadn’t realized that yet and still had a will to fight, and it gnawed on him that he wasn’t going to be able to give them that fight.

But this wasn’t the first time he’d encountered this. It was an old story now, for the galaxy didn’t collapse all at once. It happened one system at a time, with the same story playing out in slightly different variations. The Neofan were leaving for a reason, and that reason was their utter lack of ability to win against both the Hadarak and the Pafdreng at the same time.

The Deoglade had known they were going to lose for a long time. What he hadn’t seen coming was the betrayal. And still, he did not understand why. If everything was going to be destroyed, what would it matter? Were they that afraid that some might escape beyond the galaxy? Or was it their hubris in play?

When they arrived back to where they began he’d given orders that didn’t need him on the bridge, and he intended to wait here or on the lower decks until the time came to leave. Every ship in the system would be taken into their fleet and stuffed with as many people as their supplies would maintain. Hopefully they could pass through more Meerioss systems as they traveled and add more ships, for the travel cost for the Zanderline was far greater than what it would take to move his small fleet. Star Force had supplied enough for a thousand times the ships he had, if the Rudumak had been truthful. He was basing everything on their word.

And if they were lying or exaggerating…well, that was a problem he’d have to face later. But if they thought they were going to get the Zanderline from him without payment, they were going to be seriously disappointed, for he’d already had it rigged with explosives to make sure it didn’t fall into any hands other than the Neofan’s or Star Force’s.

Odd, how he reflexively still considered the Neofan to his masters. He wondered how long that would last with the sting of their betrayal still corroding his insides as virulent as any assassin’s poison.

In his meditative reflections he found it best to keep some sound in the room, so he had a loop of soothing music playing that overcame any sound of footfalls in the hallway or the mechanical action of ship’s systems in the walls, ceiling, or floor. But the sound of a combat alert overrode it all, and the Deoglade immediately opened his eyes and shot to his feet before he realized what was happening.

“Report,” he demanded calmly into his terminal that had a direct line to the bridge as he pulled on the upper half of his uniform.

“Pafdreng in the system,” someone said, with the words coming through chilled as death itself.

“Avoid all contact until I get to the bridge,” he said, cursing himself for underestimating their speed. He hadn’t expected them to get this far for another 4-7 Saoyen.

The Deoglade dressed quickly, then ran through the ship until he got to the bridge and the guards there let him pass without delay, with the doors irising open onto a very calm bridge crew.

No, they weren’t calm, they were in shock and totally still, with their heads barely turning to acknowledge him as they all stared at the main display.

“Have any of you ever been in combat with Pafdreng?” he asked casually as he strode to his command throne.

“I have, once,” a single crew member said.

“How large was it?”

“Bigger than this one. A lot bigger,” he said, finally having a coherent thought ping through his mind as his curiosity asserted itself.

“As have I. This is one of their fragments. That means a larger one is nearby and has just birthed this new one,” he said, looking at the cloud-like entity that was currently swirled around one of the moons of the first planet with all manner of energy discharges occurring between them. “It is still just as deadly, but if the Neofan were here with a dozen of their Gjardans we would have a chance to kill it. They do die, just rarely, and you have to use a lot of Essence weaponry to do it. None of which we have,” he said as he sat down.

“This system was going to fall the Hadarak or the Pafdreng, and there was nothing we could do about it. There is nothing we can do now. Engaging it would be a waste of our ships. We don’t have the firepower to do more than wound it, and that wound will not save the system. We continue on with our mission, and evacuate the worlds it has not reached yet onto every ship left in the system. Contact them all now, and order them to stay put and begin loading. I also want couriers sent to the nearby systems to bring back those that have fled along with any other transports they can find. Do so now.”

The Deoglade said nothing further, waiting for his crew to act…and they did so, but slowly. The sight before them of the inhabitants being vaporized on the surface as the deadly fog overcame them was terrifying…as was the fact that firing projectiles into that fog would see them pass through it. There were no decks on a Pafdreng. No bridge. No engines. It was all energy, and those within it were incorporeal…or so the knowledge in his mind told him. It also told him they were harvesting the lives of those on the planet to steal their Essence…and their Cores. For these people were not dying. They were being enslaved within the Pafdreng to produce Essence for it forever.

The Deoglade would have killed it simply to release the captives into death, but he didn’t have the firepower. The only way he would win this fight was by not engaging in it, and fortunately the Pafdreng didn’t concern themselves with ships or outposts. Only the areas with a massive amount of life, though the harvesting procedure often destroyed the planets in the process, sometimes with the rubble disappearing entirely. And even the knowledge in his mind did not know where it went.

Some systems that were hit by a full sized Pafdreng were wiped off the map when they were finished, including the star. But most were raided for their living beings, and that was probably what was happening here, though he couldn’t say for certain.

He kept his fleet orderly, and grew it with many ships that were already running towards them before his orders went out. They eventually ended up back at Shosta’tri’lak, for it was the 6th planet in the system and probably had a few more weeks, maybe months, before the Pafdreng got here. But the Deoglade had never heard of one leaving a system only half consumed, which meant everyone here was going to die that didn’t get onboard the few landing ships heading down to the planet.

The Deoglade had to send troops with them to evac the list of people he gave them rather than have a free for all at public assembly points. That’s not to say that random people wouldn’t be picked up, but it would be by his troops’ choice and not a first come first to be evaced situation.

He had to do it that way, or the Meerioss on the planet would stampede over one another to try and escape the Pafdreng. He’d seen it before, even amongst the most disciplined races. When sheer terror befell them, their true colors showed through, and most were not something you wanted to see.

But more than people, the Deoglade needed supplies for a long journey of unknown length. He knew how far it was to the hidden gateways, but beyond that he had no knowledge of where Star Force was or how fast they could actually travel using Essence, for it wasn’t a matter of boosting one’s engines as his warships could. This was an entirely different form of travel, though one he wasn’t provided the specifics about for the simple fact that he did not need to know if his duties never took him there.

Some Deoglades had been sent beyond the galaxy on missions, occasionally. He knew that because his master had told him so, while also telling him that he wasn’t going to be one of those Deoglades. He wondered if any were still out there, and if they were being killed as well.

Three days into the evacuation the Pefdreng moved, having already consumed everything on the moons and first planet. It leapt out across space to the next closest…which was the third planet…like an marine animal extending a tentacle out, then the bulk of it followed, stretched out like a fat spear, and not using jumplines. It moved on untraceable paths and flew out ahead of the next planet, gathering itself there for a few hours before expanding outward like a great cloth that then wrapped itself around the planet as it tried to pass through it.

It was already bigger now than it was when the Deoglade’s fleet had arrived, and would get bigger with every feeding…yet it had no mass. No gravity signature. It didn’t exist, and yet it did. Sensors could see it, bounce energy off it to confirm it was there, but particles would go right through it, as the third planet slowly did, but the Pafdreng moved with it and wrapped it up like a blanket too small for its owner.

And under that blanket horrors wrought.

A day later a few ships returned, meaning some more people would be leaving this system onboard them as the Deoglade’s troops raided the system’s storehouses and took what they needed at gunpoint if the locals refused or demanded to be taken with them. Those supplies were filling his cargo holds while the passenger decks were being stacked with living bodies as tightly as could be managed.

No one complained, for they were immensely grateful to have even a small corner onboard the ships that would take them away from here, but the Deoglade knew he couldn’t overload his carrying capacity, or they’d starve on their way, and he had no guarantee of resupply between here and the Outer Rim, though he was going to try at what was left of it, for the Pafdreng had come in on multiple vectors and were nibbling away at the galaxy’s systems in all major areas…except where the Hadarak were the most.

At the Core.

Or at least that was the case earlier. Now reconnaissance was non-existent. That’s why this Pafdreng had managed to get here without him being notified, and he wondered how many more pieces of the original were in neighboring systems. When they eventually returned to the galactic void they would rejoin into a few massive objects the size of nebulas, but for the feeding process it was more efficient to do it this way…or perhaps there was some other reason in play. Regardless, he might find himself jumping into systems with them in it quite often, and unless they were consuming the star he preferred that situation to a Hadarak siege fleet.

Weeks continued to go by until his fleet was full to the brim of supplies and people, and by that time the Pafdreng had scrapped the living beings off four planets and 18 moons, including destroying one of the moons and only leaving crumbs behind. The Deoglade tried to monitor what it was doing with the rubble, but sensors didn’t work well inside it. Only a faint echo of the rock maintained inside the cloud…up until it came towards its center, then it disappeared entirely.

The cloud didn’t get bigger. No energy discharges were seen beyond the norm. It appeared that eating the moon itself did nothing, and yet there had to be a reason.

The Deoglade considered these things while his crew did not. Their fear drove them, and he had to channel that fear into doing their duty, else they would have gone as mad as those on the planets remaining had. Fires raged on many, set by the inhabitants as they fought each other over this or that. Anything to possibly survive what was coming, or to indulge in one last moment, or to avenge one last grudge.

It was not an honorable end, and the Deoglade was glad he didn’t have to stay around any longer to watch his people tear themselves apart before the Pafdreng finished the job…though, in their defense, it was probably better to die and have your Core set free in the Essence realm rather than to become a slave, though he doubted that was why the fires were raging.

His fleet, with the warships at the fore and aft, led the makeshift convoy back to the star and out of the system, escaping the horror of the Pafdreng and the Hadarak for a short time at least. They had many months of travel ahead to get to the galaxy’s edge, and he hoped they would not be contested.

But he wasn’t counting on it.

8

March 13, 154967

UTOVI GALAXY

System 83392-98311

Low Stellar Orbit

“Take some of them with us,” the Nu’avi said to the Deoglade as their convoy moved around the star towards their outgoing jumpline amidst the clutter of ships around the system, most of which were refugees from others, plus the native Nu’avi whose system couldn’t support them all.

“We can’t have them all following us,” the Deoglade cautioned from the observation deck onboard the warship two levels above the bridge. It was all holograms, but made it appear you were riding on the top of the ship with nothing but the hull underneath your feet. “And all it will take are a few coming with us for the others to get the idea.”

“There is a Tru’ak in this system. Do you understand the significance of this?”

The Deoglade turned away from the sea of ships to look down on the smaller biped, who was now fully recovered from his starvation on Dragiel.

“Every Nu’avi I take with us is less Meerioss I can save.”

“There are no guarantees will find other intact Meerioss systems like the last two. Those with ships are probably long gone to places like this hoping to find refuge. Take the Tru’ak and her guard. That is enough for us to rebuild from.”

“Where the Tru’ak goes, the rest of them will follow,” the Deoglade said, gesturing to the sea of ships they were having to navigate through, for not all were getting out of their way. “How would you suggest getting her here?”

“She will have her own vessels. A rendezvous in another system, with her jumping the opposite way and catching up, would lose these slower vessels. It could be arranged.”

“On your word alone?”

“I would have to go to her. A message would not be convincing enough.”

“If she declines you will be stuck here. I’m not stopping the convoy.”

“Nor am I asking you too. I will take the risk if you will allow her to join the convoy.”

The Deoglade sighed. “Tell her she may come if she brings with her a large amount of Essence. I do not know how much is required for intergalactic transit, but if she can pay her way then she may travel with us by means of the rendezvous you mentioned. But she must not follow our jumpline or allow other ships to track her.”

“Well bargained. Shall I ask for a pickup?”

Before the Deoglade could answer a hologram of one of his bridge crew appeared beside him.

“Apologies, but we have discovered 7 Meerioss vessels within the system. We have inquired to their identity and personnel load. All are freighters, with double to triple their normal crews, but most of their holds are full of fuel and ammo.”

“Military supply craft?”

“Confirmed. They never made it to their destination. It was destroyed before they could arrive. They grabbed a few personnel off stricken ships before abandoning their destination.”

“What was their destination?”

“Targish.”

The Deoglade grimaced. He’d once lived there, briefly.

“Have a number of our ships moved out to them and top off with fuel. When they return to the convoy, the freighters will accompany them. Slow convoy speed to one third current velocity.”

“It will be done,” the crewer said, disappearing from view.

“Take one of our Interlopers,” the Deoglade told the Nu’avi. “I assume you can pilot it yourself?”

“I can manage.”

“If these new vessels joining us don’t provoke a stampede behind us, we will travel slowly to Yem-mark-adva. You will have to beat us there, for we will not wait.”

“How many jumps is that from here?”

“Six.”

“With your permission I will depart now.”

“Go,” the Deoglade said, with the Nu’avi trotting off the deck through a hidden door that had him vanishing into the starfield above the hull. That left the Meerioss alone to view the mass of ships that had nowhere to go. Many showed battle damage, light, but obviously Hadarak. The people onboard these ships would have limited supplies, and may very well be starving to death before him as the four planets here could not, or would not help them.

But out there, around those planets, the Deoglade could see a haze of even more ships surrounding them. Many more. And all were going to be helpless when the enemy arrived. They’d either run to another system, or be stranded here as target practice.

And there was nothing the Deoglade could do to save them. But at least he could pull the Meerioss out with him. Had there been a significant number of the ships here, he would have had to leave them behind as well.

Fortunately that wasn’t the situation, and depending on what kind of ammunition was onboard, his warships would be thankful for the resupply, because they’d used most of their pre-packaged rounds at Dragiel, and then some more in that skirmish three jumps ago whose system he could not remember the number of. There were no planets there worth naming, but it had been a good raiding position.

They’d simply tried to raid the wrong fleet.

The Deoglade had made sure to destroy their ships, which was a mercy rather than leaving the Ueni floating helpless. A quick death was the most the people in this galaxy could hope for now.

Hay’mei flew the odd shuttle crudely at first, but as he got to his jumppoint for the capitol planet he had gotten somewhat accustomed to the purple/red control color scheme. Purple was for navigation, red for weapons, and the buttons, dials, and levers were spread out in no recognizable configuration. But at least they were labeled.

Hay’mei had not brought the other Nu’avi with him. He didn’t want to risk their lives on his gamble. But if the Tru’ak was still here, and he could convince her to leave, then the Nu’avi would not be exterminated with the rest of the galaxy, for a Tru’ak was the source of all Nu’avi live births. A queen, of sorts, and far larger than Hay’mei could ever hope to grow.

When he neared the capitol he got a myriad of warnings telling him to stay away or to transfer to another planet, but when he didn’t follow those orders nothing happened. There were so many other ships here disobeying that it looked like orbital gridding had broken down, and only a ring of warships in very low orbit was keeping the rest above them and off the planet, though most weren’t built for landing.

It took him a while before he saw the orbital habitats, for they were surrounded by vessels, some docked, some waiting to dock, and others being fired upon that were getting too close. It looked chaotic, and he wondered what those ships were trying to do. If the Hadarak or Pafdreng got here, there would be no safe havens anywhere.

Then he finally figured it out. There was food onboard, and if these ships were starving they were going to force their way onto the stations to get it. That or sit and die in the sight of those who had food.

Hay’mei flew well away from those areas, moving up towards the northern pole and tried to contact one of the warships holding position there.

“This is a priority courier requesting permission to land on the planet. The content of the message is with regards to the Tru’ak’s safety.”

He didn’t expect a response immediately, or at all, but he was transmitting on Nu’avi standard frequency and speaking their native language rather than the communal Neofan, and whoever it was, he got a response.

“Permission denied. The planet is currently quarantined. No one in, no one out. Your message will have to be transmitted.”

“Can you guarantee it will reach her? Timing is critical.”

“I can guarantee it will be forwarded to the palace. What they choose to do with it is beyond me.”

“Very well, I can send a small part of it. The rest must be discussed face to face. I have been sent by a Deoglade and require an immediate audience to discuss relocation.”

“Relocation where?”

“I can’t send that on a comm channel.”

“Are the Neofan still holding territory somewhere?” the voice demanded.

“I do not know. I have been given orders to speak with the Tru’ak on behalf of the Deoglade. Please pass along the message quickly. I have little time.”

“Are the Hadarak near?”

“Not to my knowledge. We last encountered them near Men’shi’va,” he said, citing the name of the most prominent planet in the system since the Neofan had designated all systems not belonging to them only as numbers, but the locals always used their own names, however unofficial they were.

“Is there a plan? Does the Deoglade have a plan, or are we doomed?”

“There is a small plan to save the Tru’ak. I had to request it of him, and I am risking myself being stranded here if she does not accept the terms or I am delayed. I must speak with her, for her sake.”

“What about the rest of us?”

“The same as the rest of the galaxy.”

The voice on the other end fell silent for a moment, then returned composed and resigned. “I am forwarding your request. No promises.”

“Understood,” Hay’mei said, knowing that he either had to wait, try another ship, or make a run down to the planet and hope he wasn’t shot down.

He didn’t like any of those options.

The Deoglade had left the observation deck briefly to get some food and rest, but returned to it rather than the bridge to give himself the necessary view to think. He saw countless resources, both in terms of equipment and personnel before him, all of which he could not use. Nor could he redirect them elsewhere. He felt it was a fail on his part not to be able to do something to aid them, but the logistics were determinate. Without the Essence capability of the Neofan, both in terms of their advanced weapons and storehouses, the conventional and lesser Essence weapons of their servants were not sufficient enough to fight back against this double invasion.

So why had the Neofan been worried about what he could do?”

It felt like he was missing something.

Even though this wasn’t a Meerioss system, he could probably assume at least partial command of it. There were warfleets here, plus a lot of industry. He could hold this system against a small to medium Hadarak invasion, but to what end? What was the possible scenario that the Neofan feared enough to kill all the Deoglades?

His master obviously didn’t fear it that much, releasing him to die on his own merits. What could he do amidst all of this? Every planet across the galaxy was a prime target that couldn’t be moved or defended…

The Deoglade froze. He saw it.

The Neofan were not totally leaving this galaxy. Some were hiding in their Temples, and those Temples had to be hidden so the Hadarak would not find them. That meant outside of systems entirely. Probably deep space where the Hadarak could not go, though he didn’t know about the Pafdreng.

But the point was they were hiding, and could only hide a few. Not even all of their own race.

Yet the Deoglade knew there was another way to hide. A hard way. And a way they were not trained for. Everything was designed to operate off the strength of the Neofan and their systems. Technology, information, rare materials…they all flowed out of Neofan systems and down through the ranks with the smallest, most poor systems waiting and hoping something was left for them. Before the invasion there was plenty for all, in most cases, within the Meerioss at least. But he’d encountered those who told a different story, and learned about the ghosts in the system.

Not a star system, but the Neofan system that had previous dominated this galaxy…yet it had not dominated every crack and crevice in it. There were those who roamed the stars and lived exclusively on ships. He hadn’t thought it possible, due to logistical degradation. The ships should eventually wear out, no matter how many repairs one made, and unless you wanted to be a raider, how would generate the income necessary to buy what the Neofan did not supply you?

But now he saw it. The massive industry in this system, behind a curtain of ships that some of it could be repurposed into.

That’s what the Neofan feared. That he would see the pivotal weakness in their empire. The weakness that was causing the galaxy to be abandoned and the Neofan to start again in another. They’d probably known all along, which was why they had infrastructure in many other galaxies for them to fall back to.

Both the Hadarak and Pafdreng were planet destroyers, and the Neofan empire was pinned to planets, both in terms of resources and philosophy. Those who did not have a planet to call their home were the dregs of the galaxy, and the prestige of your planet dictated your status within the empire.

But it was those who roamed the stars who could forever hide from the Hadarak. Not easily. Not reliably. But there was a possible scenario there that he knew how to chase after, for he’d been chosen and groomed for his ability to think outside the dogma the Neofan instructed the empire to use…then they’d told him not to use it. For they needed commanders who could adapt to the unforeseen challenges…but only a few of them.

And it was that creativity that his brethren had been killed for. Because they could come to the same conclusion he just had.

A chunk of this galaxy could be saved, if it could be made mobile, including their logistical chain.

He couldn’t save everyone. He couldn’t save most of them. But he wasn’t helpless. Not while there were systems like this one that hadn’t been touched yet. Systems with the resources he needed.

He almost ordered the convoy to stop, but he couldn’t. This pathway to escape was preferable, and he wasn’t going to throw away what his men had just died for on Dragiel. He had to keep moving, but at least he knew why the Neofan didn’t want him to live.

Because he could keep a part of their empire alive, absent their rule, when right now all they wanted him and the others to do was politely die while they started over again in another galaxy.

The pain that realization caused him was becoming familiar, but a part of him still couldn’t believe they could be so cruel. He had faithfully served them, as so many others had, their entire lives, not just because they had to, but because they wanted to. Because they believed in the superiority of the Neofan.

They would save the galaxy from the Hadarak…but they didn’t. And now it was clear they weren’t even trying anymore. They’d quit and run away, leaving some of their own people behind to die. How apathetic could they be?

But the more he thought about it…and he’d been thinking about it a lot over the past months…he’d known they were like this all along. Not in a general revelation, but little bits of information here and there. He had more contact with the Neofan than most of their servants who never laid eyes on one, and he’d always thought their disdain for him was because he didn’t measure up to them. And that if he worked harder, he would rise to near peerdom and earn their trust.

That had happened with his master, and he assumed the rest were the same…but obviously they were not if they would kill their own Deoglades with no cause. And even his master, who showed mercy upon him, tossed him aside rather than giving him a mission. He could have ordered him to do in secret what he now realized he was capable of…but he didn’t. He simply released him to die in his own way.

After all the work they’d done, the Neofan were showing their true colors…and the lack of any real bonds with anyone outside their own race. And perhaps not as much within it as he would have assumed.

And it was in that moment he, like Yui in the bar, he decided to curse the Neofan…in his mind, at least, and even that felt like treason…but he did it anyway, and when he did a log jam of indoctrination broke and he suddenly realized he’d been imprisoning himself against such thoughts rather than being honest about who and what the Neofan were.

They should have been better, but they were not. And what the Deoglade was truly loyal to was the lies they told him. The lies that were better than they actually were, and upon realizing this he saw a brief moment of superiority over them. For his standards were, ironically, higher than theirs.

“They made me better than them, all the while tricking me into believing I was below them,” he said, mentally adding the caveat about their Essence powers and technology. They did have many advantages, but when it came down to the measure of a man…they were lacking, and the Deoglade was not.

Their servants…the elite ones anyway…had risen higher than their masters.

And it was with that final revelation that he clung to the promises while saying good riddance to the liars who had made them. They could have their new galaxy, but the pieces of their old one were now his to claim.

And claim them he would.

9

November 30, 154967

UTOVI GALAXY

System 22922-00392

High Stellar Orbit

They’d been through four more skirmishes, two against the Hadarak, one against raiders, and one against a race he’d never even seen before, but the Deoglade’s convoy hadn’t shrunk. It had gained Meerioss ships as they passed them along the way, as well as picking up 4 Nu’avi warships that had the Tru’ark onboard one of them, though they wouldn’t say which.

They traveled quietly, and the Deoglade had no reason to talk to them. The promise of freedom in another galaxy was too compelling, as if no one dare spoke of it for fear of it evaporating. The same went for the scattering of other ships from other races he’d decided to include over the past few weeks as they neared their destination and their ship count was still very light.

But now they were here, on the edge of the galaxy with the starfield disappearing in one hemisphere and replaced by the lights of distant galaxies. Behind them the stars remained, as was the faint bulge of the center of the galaxy where the Hadarak reigned supreme and the rubble of the Neofan’s strongest defenses lay in defeat. Out here, on the edge where there was little of importance, was one of the gateways that the Deoglade knew of and few others did, and waiting for them was a small convoy of Rudumak ships, including several Essence tankers.

“Yadria,” the Deoglade said when opening communications. “We are here.”

There was a long pause before the image of a reptilian race from another galaxy appeared in holo on the bridge. “Deoglade. Do you have one of the artifacts?”

“I do. We have the Zanderline.”

“I need to see it with my own eyes before we proceed.”

“You have permission to board. We will continue this conversation in person.”

“Agreed,” the alien said, cutting the comm.

“Make the necessary arrangements. I am going over now,” the Deoglade said, heading down to one of his flagship’s hangar bays and taking an Interloper through the fleet to the vessel that was carrying the Zanderline. He had the pilot board it and wait for him in the hangar as the Rudumak came a short time later. The Meerioss was waiting at the foot of their transport when it landed, and the short reptilian came out standing less than half the Deoglade’s height, but he knew his Essence abilities were far greater than any Meerioss possessed, for the members of the Bond of Resistance got training in the discipline that the Neofan had denied the Meerioss. The kind that took them from being simple users into true mages.

“Did you have trouble acquiring it?” the Rudumak asked as they walked side by side into a nearby lift car.

“Nothing unexpected, but the cost was high. Am I to assume that all the ships I brought with me will be taken to the new galaxy?”

“Easily. Star Force has sent enough Essence for many. How many will retrieve artifacts is dubious, but they sent enough to accommodate all if fortune prevails.”

“Will you be taking us there personally?”

“Yes. Others will remain here waiting on more artifacts.”

“Have any been obtained presently?”

“Only one. They left here half a saoyen ago.”

“Who?”

“I am not to say. We are not here. You are not here. None of this is happening. All perished in the fall of this galaxy. You are nothing more than a ghost.”

“I will not be leaving,” he said as the lift doors closed and they began to move through the ship.

“You don’t have the artifact?” the alien hissed.

“You misunderstand. It is here, and this convoy is traveling to the new galaxy, but I am staying behind.”

“To attempt to gather another?”

“No. I have my reasons. My work here is not yet done. I need to be assured that the transit will not be an issue in my absence.”

“There will be multiple stages of travel. At each Essence will have to be delivered. That is why our ships must travel with yours the entire way. Otherwise you will be stranded between galaxies.”

“Then you will personally guarantee arrival?”

“I do. I am interested in meeting this Star Force and opening up potential business relations.”

The Deoglade glared down at him. “You have never had contact with them?”

“We have not.”

“How do you have the Essence from them? How did you negotiate this arrangement?”

“An intermediary arranged it,” he said nervously. “What we are doing is highly dangerous.”

“How so?”

“Rudumak can travel through network. Intermediary is not allowed to bring you. We are. Their involvement cannot be known.”

“Why did Star Force not contact you directly?”

“They are not part of the Bond of Resistance. They do not have access to send message across galaxies.”

“How can you travel to their galaxy but require an intermediary?”

“Do not ask. I am forbidden from saying. You will be delivered safely.”

Suddenly the truth became obvious. “How did Star Force know of the artifacts if they are not allowed access to the network?”

“A good question. I do not have the answer to it.”

The lift stopped, but the Deoglade hit the pause button so the doors would not open, then he reached down and grabbed the Rudumak by the throat, lifting him up and pinning him against the wall.

“I have a death sentence by the Neofan, and if they ever see my face they will kill me on the spot. They arranged this, didn’t they? They’re going to take the artifacts and kill everyone trying to escape this galaxy.”

“No, no, no…” he pleaded, rather than trying to resist. “It is not like that.”

“How is it?”

“You said you are staying here, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Are you ever going to leave?”

“Doubtful.”

“If you don’t leave and don’t tell your people, I will tell you. This information must not leave this galaxy, and you must promise not to tell anyone ever.”

“Contingent on the safety of this convoy in reaching its destination, I agree.”

“Star Force does not want the artifacts.”

“Who does?”

“House Atriark. They are nearly banned from the new galaxy, because they negotiated a deal to pull their entire House out of this one.”

“I thought everyone was leaving people behind.”

“They are, but House Atriark negotiated to set up in another galaxy. In their Temples. I do not know what the arrangement was, but it was rumored that they were to help the locals fight the Hadarak at the same time the new galaxy was being invaded by the Neofan, as a distraction. Their House is the only complete House other than House Mutavi, but they cannot live in new galaxy. They used other routes to get to this galaxy that did not interfere with primary route, thus allowing more of other Neofan to be evacuated. House Atriark is hated by Mutavi, and is seen as potential overthrow.”

“Why weren’t the artifacts taken with them?”

“Too big. Too costly. Wouldn’t help win new galaxy. Neofan left most people behind here, took only essentials. House Atriark wants artifacts to grow their own power. Contacted us to facilitate transfer. House Atriark cannot be involved. If Mutavi finds out, civil war would follow.”

“So this Star Force is one of their new servants?”

“No. They are not. They control galaxy, not House Atriark. They are winning war against Hadarak with little help from Neofan. They are power shielding House Atriark from Hadarak. Without Star Force, galaxy would fall.”

“Does Star Force really want us, or was that a lie to trick us into retrieving the Neofan their prizes?”

“Star Force doesn’t want artifacts. Artifacts will be transferred to Neofan before they reach Star Force. Star Force requested you and only you.”

The Deoglade dropped him back to the floor gently. “What do they want with us?”

“They want assistance in war against Hadarak. They have a history of taking broken races and rejuvenating them into powerhouses. They are an empire of many races, and grow stronger whenever they absorb another. They want to save Neofan servants and add your power to theirs. House Atriark demands the artifacts, and would not arrange transit deal without them…or so I surmised. They never speak the whole truth unless it is in their advantage.”

“How do you know what Star Force wants us if you’ve never met them?”

“Bond of Resistance did not give us permission to travel to their galaxy. They only allow some. We know how to sneak, and have visited many times, but we cannot place colony there. Others have, and great business relationship with Star Force was generated. They talk. We learn through them and through watching. We wish relationship with Star Force, even if not sanctioned. They are galactic power in the making. Many believe this. House Atriark chose their alliance wisely. House Mutavi expected, rumor says, for galaxy to fall to Hadarak. It has not. Star Force proved its superiority, and grows stronger over time. Their advancement rate is impossible. They hold power Neofan do not possess. They refer to it as lightside power, but none understand it. It is a reference to their fiction.”

“They want to save us, but can’t come here because they don’t have access to the network?”

“Bond of Resistance demands they join to use it. Star Force refuses.”

“And they don’t want the Zanderline?”

“They not know what it is. House Atriark wrote list of artifacts.”

“But the convoy still goes to Star Force?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure of this? Does this convoy encounter the Neofan at all?”

“Neofan at every station in network. They do nothing but watch ships go by. They talk, but other Bond of Resistance members outnumber them. You in our convoy, you are our responsibility.”

“They own us.”

“House Atriark says it will not be issue as long as we keep moving. The Neofan do not have warships in the network except at gateways, and those here were taken away to fight in new galaxy. The path is clear, Deoglade. I have seen so with my own eyes. Once I see Zanderline, I will guide you to new galaxy. Most of saoyen travel, and Zanderline will be taken by our ships, then handed to Neofan out of your sight. Their involvement cannot be known. I tell you this because you not going, cannot reveal. I risk much doing so. They do not tolerate disobedience.”

“I know,” he said, hitting the button to open the doors and walking out ahead of the Rudumak. A few steps later they rounded a corner and came into the massive hangar that held cargo crates and smaller craft stacked on top of each other so thick you could barely see anything, but above them all in the distance you could see pieces of a massive object that had been packed around with salvage the Deoglade had collected on the way here. “There it is.”

“I see and confirm. Your convoy may leave now.”

“Where will you meet Star Force?”

“On the edge of their galaxy a few systems away from the handover of the Zanderline. I will take you there, and I will make my own contact simultaneously. There is much to be gained by developing a relationship in this early stage of their development. If they expel Hadarak from galaxy, as many are wagering, they will rival Bond of Resistance and offer alternative to triumvirate.”

“Is the Bond at risk of unraveling?”

“No. Bond is solid. But many seek more than it offers. Neofan lost this galaxy. Their hold on new galaxy is weak. If they fall, Bond will be reforged weaker. Perhaps new Bond with Star Force. Many possibilities. Star Force has strict code of conduct. Many rules. But they never betray. Loyalty of their Factions is unbreakable and maintained without censorship. How they do it is mystery. Much to learn from them. They also have beasts. Descended from Hadarak. That produces Essence for them. Neofan jealous. We hear this much. Star Force has greater supply than Neofan.”

“They have tamed Hadarak?”

“Alterations have been made by others. Star Force rescue and assimilate. Always assimilating. Always improving those assimilated. Your people will be cared for and made stronger. Several small Bond members requested inclusion in Star Force before Neofan banned such requests citing their control of the galaxy, but we know better. Star Force controls it. They are jealous.”

“I have never even heard of them.”

“Most of your galaxy has never heard of Rudumak. Neofan do not like sharing information. Star Force shares much freely in exchange for code of conduct. Delivering your convoy to them is my point of access. I will not fail. Essence delivered by Star Force tanker to House Atriark, then left at drop point for Rudumak. But Rudumak meet Star Force to deliver you to them.”

“And what if House Atriark decides to destroy you after they have the Zanderline?”

“My ships split. Zanderline goes with some to House Atriark. Others stay with convoy. Handover to Neofan will be separate. If Star Force supplied Essence as told, they will want a return on their investment. If you do not arrive, bad things for House Atriark. I do not foresee betrayal on their part. Would be counter-productive.”

“They may kill you to cover their violation.”

“We have made contingency in case that happens. They betray us. We reveal to Bond of Resistance. Secrecy is our security.”

“Very well. Begin the journey. One ship will be leaving with me onboard after the convoy departs.”

“As you wish, Deoglade. I do not understand why you would stay, but if any fortune resides in this galaxy, may it be with you.”

A few hours after the visual confirmation of the Zanderline, the Rudumak redirected the convoy out of the system to a point where the Deoglade knew the gateway to be. It took several weeks to get there using conventional engines to limp out on the weak gravity, but he knew Essence enhancement would allow a much shorter trip. Most of his ships didn’t possess that ability, and the few that did were not going to waste their limited stores that were very gradually being added to by the crew on a daily basis. It would take years to fill them this way, and what remained had to be preserved in the case of combat need, for there were no more planetary reserves to refill them with. And those the Deoglade had come across on the way here had been drained by others before he could get to them.

The station itself was little more than a giant ring with small boxes attached to it, and inside those boxes were Bond of Resistance personnel. Each was an embassy of sorts, with the crews not comprised of any one race. Not even the Neofan. For the network was owned by all.

The Deoglade knew the first stage of the journey would be out to a true embassy a bit further beyond this galaxy in what was called a Zotav. There were several placed around this galaxy, but beyond that the Deoglade knew little of the makeup of the network. Still, this first passage was something those in this galaxy were not capable of making unless they had the necessary Essence to deliver, not just to get to the Zotav, but enough to get across to the next galaxy. And only a member of the Bond of Resistance could open the gateway, and servants did not count. Meaning that if the Deoglade returned here with abundant Essence and no Rudumak, those onboard the gateway would ignore his or anyone else’s requests for passage.

The Deoglade had chosen the smallest warship in the fleet and ordered the crew off it to the last man. He knew he could fly it for a moderate amount of time before maintenance required a crew to deal with it, but he wasn’t going to ask that anyone stay behind with him. He sat at the helm station, alone the bridge, watching as the great ring shimmered with energy and the first of several Rudumak ships entered, leaving the others of their race here to facilitate other artifact transfers if they should show up.

One by one the Meerioss ships and the scattering of other races with them disappeared into the shimmering portal, followed by one last Rudumak vessel to mark the end of the convoy. Then the giant puddle disappeared and the distant galaxies could be seen once again through its center, leaving the Deoglade to wonder which of them his people were now enroute to.

If it wasn’t a death trap.

There was no way to know for sure, but assuming the transit was going to be legit, then he had successfully rescued a small amount of his people from extermination. He’d won a victory against the Hadarak, the Pafdreng, and the Neofan…but he wasn’t satisfied. The win only whet his appetite for more, but any future victories would not be evacuations beyond this galaxy. They would have to occur within Utovi, which was going to be far harder…but it also gave him the slim possibility of saving billions if he could do what he thought the Neofan feared of him.

And that fear said more about his own abilities than his pride ever had.

Today was the day he would begin exploring that potential as he turned his ship around and began limping back in towards the distant star system. And once he got there, he’d be jumping back into the fray in search of planets that had not yet fallen nor given up and begun tearing themselves apart.

Those who still wanted to fight deserved a chance, no matter how small, and the Deoglade was that chance…and he had a duty to try and rescue those who everyone else had left to their doom.

In all his service to the Neofan he had never had such an important duty, and now, free of them and their orders, he felt more alive than ever before. His fate was his own to make, as well as the fate of the others whose path he would cross.

Utovi was lost. He didn’t dispute that. But within that loss he sensed a secondary path, and was risking his life on that gut instinct.

But it was his to risk, and if he died here it wouldn’t matter. He was dead to his former master, his former empire, and to everything else that mattered.

And in death, he now had a chance to accomplish more than he ever had in life.

If he was worthy of the Neofan’s fear.

He would find out soon enough.

10

Henor Typla could not believe the Deoglade was staying behind, nor could the rest of the convoy, but his decision had been made and he was going off alone in one of the warships, to do what nobody knew. He had chosen Henor to lead the convoy, which also was totally unexpected, and Henor had no idea what was coming ahead of them.

The Deoglade had explained the travel and the arrival, but even he admitted he did not know anything of this Star Force or what would become of them once they arrived, yet everyone knew they’d have a better chance there than here. That had been tolerable when the Deoglade was leading them, for Henor trusted him in. But now that he was staying behind, the unknown future was almost as scary as what they were leaving behind in this galaxy.

But he had his orders, and soon the giant portal opened and the ships began going through. When his hit it, the outside environment turned black. No stars, no galaxies, no lights of any kind. There was nothing for sensors to find, nor gravity for the engines to operate on. They were completely helpless in what was told to be the Essence realm, with the ship encapsulated in a bubble to keep them there.

And if that bubble burst prematurely, they’d be lost in the intergalactic void with no way of being found or calling for help. That didn’t help Henor’s nerves, but he had been assured that the Bond of Resistance…which he hadn’t even known existed prior to his discussion with the Deoglade…traveled this way without failure on a regular basis, and as long as the relay stations were operating there was no threat of collision or bubble dissipation.

So he sat on the bridge and waited for three days, leaving only to eat and sleep, until the blackness suddenly ended and they emerged through another portal with the view of an artificial landscape to their left. It sat on top of a large structure, but his ship wasn’t traveling up to see it. Rather it was being led into another ring-like portal ahead of them via mooring beams, and he barely had time to look around before the ship ahead of them in line disappeared into the new portal, then they followed minutes later.

The blackness returned, and they traveled another leg of their journey, this one lasting 18 days, then they came out of another portal to view a massive grid-like structure that they were actually inside of. Henor knew he wouldn’t have long to look, so he recorded all sensor images so he could study them later, but at a glance there were box-like attachments to the grid that might be internal cities, but the main feature within the grid was more rings. Lots of them, as if this was a nexus point, but he didn’t see any other ships or artificial land. In fact, now that he noticed, there were no stars at all, only galaxies seen afar, and just before they moved into another activated portal he switched to the view behind them and saw the majesty of Utovi spread across the black sky.

It was there, distant, but clearly visible and taking up a good 80 degrees of rear hemisphere. Henor noticed it was not completely edge on, for they were somewhat above the galactic plane and looking down on it…or it could have been above it if their ship had somehow flipped in transit. But it was clear they were heading away from it at an angle, and were already so far from it that they were in the null zone where no gravity reached of sufficient amount to power a ship’s engines…which begged the question of how did they get the materials out here to build this place.

Utovi vanished into blackness, as did the station as they transitioned into the next portal, but upon review of the few minutes of images Henor could see many magnetic launch points on the edges of the grid-work. Similar devices were used inside Utovi for priority cargo routes, and it looked like the same thing extended out here. But why? If you could use Essence to cross between galaxies, why establish magnetic jump points that would go much slower and risk collision? It would take saoyen to cross the gap, but yet there they were in the sensor readings. And he guessed from his ship’s vantage point that there were at least 12 linked pairs pointed in different directions.

And none were going to a nearby galaxy. Not directly at least.

That suggested there might be more magjump links than Essence ones, and if Essence allowed you to travel faster maybe it also made your jumps more accurate. Whatever the case, this Bond of Resistance had built a very large travel network out here for more than Essence use, but even if he wanted to ask the Rudumak about it he couldn’t, for their ships were never in the same place as his, and within the Essence realm there was no communications between ships. You couldn’t even see the ones ahead of you or behind. At least the Meerioss couldn’t with their sensors or limited Essence abilities. Perhaps the Nu’avi could, but he couldn’t contact them either, making this journey a very lonely one save for brief glimpses of the ship ahead of you and the one behind you when they passed through the various relays.

And there were many of them, all taking several weeks to travel between, until they reached the biggest one of all. There wasn’t just a structure built there, but an entire artificial planet. Henor could tell it because of the low gravity readings for its size, meaning it was hollow. The surface was covered with land and water, and six artificial suns were spaced around it and shining down to keep it illuminated at all times. Perhaps they shut off occasionally, but at present they were all on and he could see activity in low orbit from his position in high orbit.

But the planet disappeared as they entered another portal, then more relay stations passed until finally they came to another of the flat stations with the land on top. That had been the first one outside of their galaxy, so he hoped this was the end of their journey…but it wasn’t. They didn’t come out of a gateway into a starfield, but rather to another relay station, and another, and another.

They eventually came to another artificial planet, then passed through more relays until they came to a third artificial planet. After more relays they came to another flat land station, then finally they emerged through a portal that did not have another waiting for them to enter.

The starfield of another galaxy was before them, with the intergalactic void behind…meaning they had come out on the edge of another galaxy just like they had left Utovi on. And before them was the Rudumak lead ships and the part of the convoy that had jumped ahead of Henor’s ship.

The Meerioss let out a sigh of relief, having felt lost in the intergalactic void or the Essence realm. He didn’t know which was worse, but now they were finally back in the pull of gravity, weak as it was, but there was a nearby star they could get to, and as soon as the rest of the convoy arrived the Rudumak signaled for them to follow in that direction.

The sight of the great giant burning blue orb made Henor wish to never travel between galaxies again, as well as him realizing just how dangerous it was. And this Bond of Resistance traveled this way regularly? He was glad Star Force refused to join them, for he did not want to go through that again. At least jumping between stars had a view. The blackness of the Essence realm was maddening.

The convoy was led from system to system, going deeper into the galaxy until the Rudumak demanded the Zanderline be turned over to them. The Deoglade had informed him of this, and Henor had it transferred to one of the alien ships that then jumped away from the convoy save for two. One at the head and one at the rear. The one at the head continued to guide them from star to star until they finally emerged into a system with a heading not around the star to another jumppoint, but to one of the planets in the system.

Henor noticed unfamiliar ships in the system popping up on his sensors. Long ships with round or tapered front ends and an exposed hangar bay on the underside in the rear. Flying alongside them were much smaller vessels in defensive clouds that came near the convoy, but not too near. The Rudumak insisted that all was well and they needn’t worry about anything other than sticking to their heading…which brought them to a planet where several Hee’va ships were parked in orbit.

The Hee’va were also servants of the Neofan…or perhaps former servants as well. Were they the ones the Rudumak had mentioned? Had they also escaped and got here before them.

As if summoned by the thought, a comm opened with the image of the Rudumak appearing before Henor.

“As promised, you have arrived in the galaxy the locals call the ‘Milky Way.’ Our part in your transit is now finished. Star Force will contact you shortly on this channel. They already have your language database, so you don’t have to worry about translating for them.”

“Do you know what we are to do here?” Henor asked.

“That is between you and your new masters. We were simply to deliver you. All your ships have arrived, yes?”

“All are accounted for.”

“Then I bid you farewell, and good luck, Meerioss,” the Rudumak said, disappearing as his ship likewise moved off to a different orbit leaving the convoy tracing its way around the planet in a single line with engines powered down.

It didn’t take long before one of the elongated ships approached the convoy, then a comm prompt from it was registered on the bridge.

Henor tried to compose himself. He didn’t even know what they looked like, and now he was supposed to obey the unknown masters. He wished he knew what they wanted from them, because he didn’t want to displease them immediately by making assumptions. He really wished the Deoglade was here.

The hologram opened up, showing an elongated biped standing erect in a smooth, cloth-made uniform, but where his skin showed it was glowing blue/yellow.

“Greetings. I am Arch Duke Longar, and I have been given command of this star system in order to house and process all refugees coming from the Utovi galaxy. Know that we do not expect anything from you immediately. You will remain onboard your ships and be given information to learn from, after which time you will be relocated to cities on the planet before you to begin your rejuvenation and training to become part of Star Force. It is a somewhat lengthy process, but there is no rush. We can take this as slow or as fast as you wish. You’ve been on a long journey, and the stories we’ve been hearing from Utovi are quite distressing. Right now I just want you to feel welcome and safe here. You are now under our protection and care, and you have no need to fear the Hadarak or the Apocalypse Monsters here. To who am I speaking?”

“My name is Henor Typla,” he said, hoping his dialect would translate properly using whatever software Star Force had running. It had called the Pafdreng ‘apocalypse monsters,’ which he assumed was an error or description. “I am the leader of this convoy only. The one who led us to claim the artifact you wished chose to remain in Utovi. As a result of this, our people are leaderless…and we also have some non-Meerioss with us that we picked up enroute.”

“None of that is a concern. We will sort things out in the coming days. Right now, I need you to deliver a simple message to your convoy. And that is that information is coming that I would ask that every person review and memorize as best they can. It will help ease the transition if you begin the process onboard your own ships. Are you lacking in fuel, food, or other necessities?”

“Several ships are low, but none are exhausted of either.”

“Good. Do any of your people require medical treatment?”

“All battle wounds have been sealed long ago.”

“Sealed? Are they not fully healed?”

“Those that can be are healed, but some of the Hadarak damage cannot be fully healed.”

“I am not aware of any injuries that our medtechs cannot heal. Make a list of those that carry wounds, and we will see if we can find a way to improve on their current condition.”

“You have medical technology greater than that of the Neofan?”

“Possibly, but the Neofan should have such healing technology of their own. It is possible they did not share it with you. We do not hold back such things. Anyone who needs healing, whether they are part of our empire or strangers, are welcome to come to us for treatment at no cost.”

“That is…generous of you,” Henor said in what he hoped was seen as politeness.

“We are a generous empire. Relax, Henor Typla. I can see your discomfort. You do not know it, but you are among friends here. You will not offend us, and I suggest that you simply be honest about everything. But I must ask first, because some races are not as civilized as others. Do you have living beings onboard your vessels that are used as food, experimentation, or other uses?”

“I do not believe so. All Meerioss food is packaged. It is killed elsewhere because we cannot spare the room for live cargo. I would assume the same for the other races, but I do not know for certain.”

“And for other uses?”

“None. We have as many of our own people crammed inside as we can manage. We would not bring animals along in place of them.”

“Be advised, we do not kill and eat corpses. Nor do we experiment on animals. The weak are to be protected, not exploited. We value all life here, and we wage war on those who do not. If there are any animals onboard any of your ships, they are to be turned over to us intact and unharmed so we may see to their safety and well being. Do you understand this?”

“I hear and obey.”

“But you do not understand why we do this?”

“I do not.”

“In time you will learn why. Right now I must see that every person of every race, no matter how primitive, is kept alive and put into our care. Please inquire of all the vessels in your convoy. It would be easier coming from you than me right now.”

“I will do so immediately, Ach Uke.”

“The title is Arch Duke, and my race is Protovic. We are one of many races, but the central leadership in our empire is Human. They founded Star Force, then began incorporating other races, such as my own, into it. We are not of lower rank than them, it is simply that the oldest leaders are those who founded it, and those are Human. We are led by Director Davis, who is Human and a Monarch like myself. We see to all logistical necessities while the Archons and Mavericks lead our militaries. But for now, call me Longar. I would like to meet with you in person, and only you. I wish to use you as an intermediary during this transition process, and I also want to hear your stories of what brought you here, and what is happening to the others in Utovi.”

“Where do you wish me to go?”

“May I send a small ship to land in your hangar?”

“We are at your command, Longar.”

“Then I will land my ship inside yours, and you will join me inside where we will talk and I will answer questions about the new empire you are joining.”

“Have you done the same with the Hee’va?”

“They have been here many months, and yes, they are going through the same process.”

“May I speak with one of them first? I mean no disrespect, Longar.”

The alien smiled. “No offense taken. I will arrange it shortly. When you are ready to meet with me, let me know and I will come over. As I said, there is no rush. Be calm and relaxed. You are safe here.”

“I thank you for that, Longar,” Henor said as the…Protovic…signed off, and soon a new comm activated with the image of a quadruped that also had two large arms and was twice the height of the Meerioss, but the hologram was shrunk to make it the same size as Henor, which did not look right at all and made the Hee’va look puny, when they were anything but that.

“Meerioss,” the fellow servant race said once visual contact was made. “I am told you wish to speak with us?”

“We know nothing about what is happening, and I do not want to make missteps here. Can you tell me what to do and not to do? I am to meet with Longar soon.”

“Be open to learning. Be honest. Hide nothing. Do these three things and they will be very forgiving of any accidental offense. Longar has been assigned here to make us a part of their empire. It is his mission. And he is very good at it. Be aware, though, that Star Force has a reluctance to kill or maim. Their punishment is tedious effort meant to instruct rather than damage. They do not believe in vengeance for those within their empire, but they do extract it on their enemies in a peculiar fashion.”

“Peculiar how?”

“I do not understand it yet, but it is almost as if they trick them into doing the damage to themselves. Many of the races in their empire are former enemies that were conquered, but not destroyed. They put them through what they call ‘indoctrination,’ and that is the process we are going through now. It is a test to see if we can learn to be like them. Those that do not pass take the test over and over again until they do. Those that refuse to learn will stay here forever, for Star Force does not give up on anyone. And it is said that many stubborn individuals have taken the long path to learning. We are trying to make it a short path.”

“Learning to do what? Are we to fight the Hadarak?”

“I asked that. They said that’s a possibility in the future, but for now we are here to learn, grow, and adapt. They said they asked the Neofan to bring us here, because they wanted to help some of us survive. The Neofan demanded the artifacts, otherwise it wouldn’t have been worth their effort. Star Force cares more for our wellbeing than the Neofan, and they don’t even know us. This is a very odd galaxy, Meerioss. Things are very different here. Star Force does not command all of it. Many worlds are free of their control but are protected by them against the Hadarak. It is all rooted in their lightside philosophy, which we are still trying to learn. That is the key to it. And it is unlike anything the Neofan wanted us to become.”

“What artifact did you bring?”

“The Zoenith. And you?”

“The Zanderline. And Star Force wanted none of them?”

“No. They just want to help us, and possibly allow that one day in the future we help them and become a part of their empire. But for now, we are precious cargo that they are trying not to damage. They are allowing us to transition at our own pace, and avoid most contact until we choose it. I was different, and contact was made immediately, as I assume it is the same for you. Take heart, they will not mistreat you. But they do expect much of you, and if you are worthy, they will use you to help the others.”

“I do not know what to do.”

“They will teach you. But be aware that they will teach you things that conflict with what the Neofan taught us. Be open to this. That is the best advice I have. I was not so open in the beginning, and they found an…embarrassing way to open my eyes to the truth. The Neofan taught us many truths, but they also mixed in lies, and this will cause you many problems in your learning. Let go of the Neofan and let Star Force guide you. I believe they are superior to the Neofan, though that is only a guess at this point. I have not left this system to see anything else.”

“You are hopeful then?”

“Very. The promise of this galaxy was not overestimated. And the Hadarak are contained in the Core, with a major war underway to attempt to remove them from the galaxy entirely.”

“Does Star Force possess the Core gateways?”

“No, they do not. They are attempting to do what the Neofan could not, which is why I believe they are superior. Do you know of others coming?”

“I know of nothing. A Deoglade led us to this journey, but chose to stay behind for reasons unknown. I am not the leader he is.”

“Our Deoglades all disappeared. I heard it was the same in the other races.”

“I don’t know about that. He found us.”

“Fortunate. Is he going to bring others?”

“I hope so, but he would not say his reason for staying.”

“If he comes, Star Force could make use of him. This I know. They value skill above all else. It is how they rank themselves. Not by race or bloodline. But by individual skill. And those that lead the empire are rumored to be so formidable no one can stand against them. Not even the Neofan.”

“Has there been fighting between them?”

“Not that I’ve been told. But there are other Star Force races here, individuals, that talk a lot. We learn a lot from them that is not taught to us in the training. There is so much information that it is hard to all remember, but I find I like Star Force more than the Neofan. They do not execute for punishment. Not ever.”

“Never?”

“They have their way. Trust in it, even if you do not understand it.”

“Thank you. I am glad we were not the first here. I feel helpless not knowing where we are or anything about what we are supposed to do.”

“As did I. It will pass.”

“Are we to fight in this war against the Hadarak at some point?”

“Unlikely. They will not send us until we are ready, and I have been told we are far from ready. Do you want to?”

“I feel like I should be now.”

“We feel the same. The rest of our race is dying fighting against the Hadarak, but we sit here learning and doing nothing against the enemy. We did not escape to hide. We escaped to find another way to fight.”

“I wish I could say the same. Some of us feel that way, but many have had their will broken. The Deoglade is the only thing that kept us going.”

“Star Force has their own Deoglades. They are called ‘Archons,’ and some of them are here. I have spoken to two. And they command respect without demanding it. Their bodies are small, but their power is immense. They demonstrated it for us.”

“Are they better than the Neofan?”

“Possibly. They use non-Essence techniques more, and they have many. If they have taught their armies to fight in the same way, then you would do well to learn from them. Most of their troops do not die in combat. They won’t attack unless there is a possibility of all returning alive.”

Henor’s jaw dropped. “How is that even possible?”

“They are very different from the Neofan. In Star Force war methodology, the strongest go in first and take on the hardest fights. Have you ever seen a Neofan go in ahead of us?”

“It’s our place to shield them from danger,” Henor argued.

“Not in Star Force. It’s their leaders’ job to shield us, so we have time to grow stronger and shield others in the future.”

“How do their leaders not die?”

“I do not know. But I am interested in finding out some day. The more you accept them and their teachings, the faster that day will come. Trust them. And trust that they will make you understand eventually. I am partway there, but what I have learned already has changed me. It will change you too, for the better, if you allow it.”

“I do not think it will be as easy as you suggest.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy. I said it would be faster if you choose to accept it rather than fighting it. Are you angry with the Neofan?”

“I do not like to speak ill about them, but yes, I am.”

“Are the others?”

“We rarely speak of it, but some have said as much.”

“One of the individuals here speculates that one day after the Hadarak are removed from this galaxy and Star Force has grown larger, they will conquer the Neofan.”

Henor was speechless for a long moment. “How?”

“Some part of their lightside philosophy. They won’t stand by and allow others to violate it if they have the power to stop them. And the Neofan violate it. They violate it deeply, and Star Force did not know how much until we told them of Utovi and how it was there before the Hadarak invaded. This individual says it infuriated them to learn we eat corpses and kill our own when necessary. Star Force is very anti-death. But they will start wars to stop it. And one day, they will go beyond their galaxy to challenge all who they consider to be ‘darkside.’”

“And they call the Neofan this darkside?”

“I’m told they do now, and before they were uncertain. So if you need motivation, let it be the potential for some far distant future vengeance against our former masters who left us for dead.”

Henor looked down at the ground, realizing his bridge crew was watching as well. He’d forgotten they were there and glanced over his shoulder at them…to find several nodding in agreement with the Hee’va.

“I think that,” he said, turning back to the hologram, “is something we can fully understand.”

“I am also told, that the lightside power is greater than the darkside power, but only in the long term, and that is what everything in Star Force is geared towards. So if they do something odd in the short term, consider the long term implications and it may begin to make sense. They are preparing for wars beyond the Hadarak. And it is for those wars…we think…that we are being recruited for.”

Henor clenched his fist as finally some pieces of this mystery revealed themselves. “Now I am beginning to understand. So we have time to learn and grow.”

“Much time, assuming they can defeat the Hadarak, which I am told they are expected to do.”

“Do you know what exactly they want us for?”

“No. But I’m also told they know how to train. They are experts at it. So whatever they want us to become, they will mold us to it. We do not have to do it on our own. And I, for one, welcome the challenge of it.”

“This is too new to me to say the same, but vengeance I can understand, even if it is far in the future. The others will too.”

“Let that guide you through the coming days. After you start the indoctrination process, it will guide itself, and then we can have a very different conversation.”

“Thank you for your counsel. I do not want to keep Longar waiting.”

The Hee’va nodded and his image was soon replaced with the Arch Duke’s.

“Longar, I am ready to meet with you now.”

“Very good,” the Protovic said. “I will be onboard your ship shortly…”

www.aerkijyr.com

Blue Blades

1

November 27, 154967

System 9932045 (Hadarak Territory)

High Orbit

The Star Force scout ship had been to this system before, surveying the heavy infestation that existed beyond the planets. Great strands of what looked like string were visible even from this distance, and together they massed the equivalent of several planets, made from the inner cores of those existing ones that were now gutted. Many had crumbled into rubble orbiting the two stars at system’s center, while others were still inhabited, but with huge spires coming off them and forming thorny halos that orbited with the rotation of the planet.

This system was one of the many that made up the zone of heavy resistance, or as some had come to refer to it as the ‘Web Wall.’ It was similar to the Grand Border, except on the Hadarak side, and was only a few dozen systems thick, but it surrounded the entire Core keeping out those the Hadarak did not want in…and potentially to keep in those it did not want to get out.

The scout ship could not enter the system near the star safely, for it was cluttered with enemy ships and stations…all of which were alive, and they were placed along the jumplines to destroy anything that came in, or to run down anything that came in elsewhere and attempted to get through and jump to another system.

The scout ship might have been able to make it through, but the slow route was the wiser. It had come in at slow speed and braked heavily early so it arrived out of its jump far out into the system where the defenses were not. This scout ship had been here for 13 days on this trip, with the simple mission of making sure that the area was clear of enemies where the attack fleet would be coming in.

If the Hadarak thought Star Force was going to do a simple area sweep coming off the Grand Border, then they were going to be in for a shock. Already there were 18 columns reaching out across Hadarak territory and taking select systems in an ‘island hopping’ maneuver that was establishing supply routes…but not through safe systems. They had to pass through enemy territory dozens of times to get to the next safe haven, but given the fact that Star Force could protect its convoys extremely well and Wardens were so slow they couldn’t intercept them, the only real threat was from Lurkers, which was why each convoy had at least one Avenger-class warship with them.

There was a string of new bases going up in the systems they took, but if Star Force waited around the Hadarak would get the idea of what they were doing, so many attack fleets were making diversionary attacks elsewhere while some fleets skipped ahead to the primary targets…and this was one of them. Star Force was going to win this war concurrently in the Core, then backfill the rest of Hadarak territory and meet up with Clan Kai’sa that was taking and holding bits of territory around the Grand Border. But in order to get to the Core, you first had to take down the Web Wall enough to get ships through to the other side en mass.

Trouble was, some of the webs out there could use Essence like Lurkers could, though these were immobile. There was also a variety of nasty weapons not seen elsewhere on the Star Force side of the wall, making this the first big fight Star Force was going to have with the Hadarak, and if the travel times had been estimated correctly, they should be arriving any time now.

The scout ship sat just off the jumpline and kept watch with its passive sensors, sending burst transmissions out of the system on the jumpline so the incoming ships could intercept the signals just before their braking maneuvers so they could see what was ahead of them. It was one of the more important jobs for scout ships, and in a flash of highly accelerated star light being directed back inward, the first of the warships slid to a stop within visual sight range of the cloaked scout ship.

But it wasn’t the only one. More followed at tight intervals, like giant sharks congregating together as they got some minimal spacing between them while waiting for the others to come in. The scout ship just sat and watched, seeing a variety of support ships enter the system in the convoy before a fleet of Avengers arrived.

The Irondel onboard the scout ship fist pumped in unison when seeing them, ready to watch some fireworks as the Avengers moved out of the main fleet into their own hunting group while the rest of the system was probably still unaware of their arrival given how far out in the system they were emerging, but that wouldn’t last for long.

More and more regular ships arrived, holding onto their drones as the warships stacked up into rows waiting…and then something truly massive appeared. It wasn’t a Borg vessel, nor a Mach’nel. The scout ship crew didn’t know what it was until they ran it through the ship silhouette database, and just as the identification came up, a second Ysalamir entered the system, just as massive.

“I thought they were obsolete?” the scout ship Captain said, impressed but confused.

“ID tags indicate recent construction, and those are bigger than what we had in the past,” another of the crew answered, tapping on a tiny console given his 10 inch height as a third Ysalamir arrived, this one slightly different in make but still of massive size, measuring at least 1000 miles long.

“I got it,” another Irondel said, coming onto the bridge carrying boxes of popcorn kernels the size of their hands, then he froze and nearly dropped them when he saw the Ysalamir on the main display. “What the fuck?”

“Bring the food,” the Captain said, getting his box and leaning back in his command chair as he raised the foot rest up out of it and settled in with everyone else doing likewise as more support ships followed the three Ysalamir out of their jumps. “Helm, keep us in good viewing range at your discretion. Our job here is done…you did send the packet?”

“As soon as the first ship arrived,” the comm officer said, referring to the detailed system scans they’d done the past two weeks.

“Good. Time for the good guys to kick some ass,” he said, biting out a huge chunk of one of the popcorn kernels. “Two steps from hell,” he mumbled as he pressed a key on his command chair, delving into his personal music stash. “Battle songs and loop…”

Grand Admiral Lucin stood onboard one of the regular warships manned by H’kar, despite him being a Kvash and far shorter than the exoskeleton-clad race. His body was actually the harder, and the more immobile, but his mind was sharp and he’d selected this ship to command in the mixed fleet given to him by Randy-021. Lucin had full command, and no trailblazer was here, nor senior Archon, for he knew dozens of assaults like this were happening at approximately the same time across the galaxy, branching off from what would soon be Star Force supply lines in a fashion that made these assaults impossible to predict.

This one was entirely up to the Grand Admiral, and never before had anyone in Star Force assaulted fortifications such as this. The major jumplines were covered in growths, allowing only a narrow corridor of clear space at the very center to get through them safely down to the star, forcing anyone entering at any moderate altitude to emerge into a gauntlet of living weaponry, and if his intelligence was correct, some of those growths could telekinetically rip a small ship apart at a range of several hundred thousand miles.

But not all of the growths had Essence abilities. The ones that did were the Avengers’ problem. The rest, which were dangerous for other reasons, were for the Ysalamir to tackle and remove, with the fleet covering both key weapon platforms as the Vargemma in a neighboring ship indicated they could already see Essence build up in the defenses, meaning the Hadarak knew they were here before traditional sensor bounceback could occur.

“Gravity sensors,” he mumbled to himself. They could see the silhouettes as they arrived, given the size of his ships, and only a fourth of his fleet had arrived so far, but he couldn’t wait for all of them to get here and give the Hadarak the advantage of positioning.

“Wing commanders, deploy,” he said, mentally tagging the attack vectors and assigning priority targets in the system for them to go after. “Captain, take us here…”

Four Avengers flew in formation towards the nearest ‘webs’ on the jumpline they’d entered the system on, seeing a corkscrew-shaped tree extending millions of miles with strands only a few miles thick at most. But within those strands were Essence storage wells, and the amount they were showing charging was beyond their grand total in all the Star Force ships in this system.

And that’s why they weren’t going to slug it out. The Maty had extensive records on how these growths worked, what they could and couldn’t do, and Star Force had found a critical weakness the Avengers were about to exploit.

Essence existed in the bodies of all the people in the growth, and by people that meant the structure itself, for it wasn’t one giant person, but rather a colony of them melded together into a living structure. Yet the Essence wells weren’t the bodies of these people, they were the bodies of certain ones engineered into living containers that then drew Essence from the rest slowly over time for storage.

Where they were located was impossible to determine unless you could scan with Essence, and the Avenger-class warships could, so they knew where to target. The trick was how to get there without having to slug it out.

The Hadarak fortifications were virtually impregnable against a direct assault, and they also had enough ranged weaponry to prevent people from poking them down gradually, but what they didn’t have was localized mass, for it was spread out so far across the system it had to be thin construction, at least as far as miles wide warships went.

The four Avengers finally broke apart, angling to different targets as they flew around or through minion swarms of such numbers they looked like nebula, but the knife-shaped ships lived up to their silhouettes and cut through them like butter, ramming those that got in the way and barely feeling the collisions as their Essence-enhanced shields burned through them on contact.

Each of the four ships aligned on a slightly curved trajectory to their targets, then pulsed their jump drives while pulling on nearby planets for the slightly lateral movement needed…with the first one blinking out in massive acceleration while deploying a hard light Essence battering ram over from the front of the ship ahead of the shields…the latter of which hopefully wouldn’t be needed if the calculation of the density of the web strand was in the ball park.

The Avenger sliced through the Essence well section of the strand so fast it couldn’t be seen, nor targeted for counterattack. It didn’t slow down at all, and didn’t fire a shot…merely using physics to its advantage and running into and through the target section with the speed of the collision pulling the strand out of alignment as it frayed and disintegrated, causing both sides of the breach to twist and list as they were not disconnected.

A good hit, but hardly debilitating…unless you could see Essence, for the when the body of the ‘well keeper’ was hit and destroyed, all the Essence it contained was released in a harmless explosion that blanketed the area with a tsunami of free Essence that quickly retreated to the Essence realm, but some lingered long enough for the rest of the fleets in the system to pick up small amounts of it well over a million miles away.

The other three ships were likewise successful, and none of them were damaged, though their ‘rams’ were disintegrated and they had to form new ones before going after additional wells on the same strand all the way in to the star as other Avenger groups were working on more strands elsewhere.

There were so many of them in the system the ships would have to dock and refill from the Essence tankers in the fleet multiple times, but the Hadarak had no defense against the hit and run tactics. They relied on the anonymity of the wells to protect them from targeted attacks, but you couldn’t hide such Essence stores once they began to be drawn upon for system defense.

Taking them out didn’t clip the strands of their Essence weaponry, nor the Essence currently stored in the people in the strand itself, but the majority of their power was gone, and the truly long range Essence attacks that consumed so much to gain the extra distance were now no longer an issue to worry about.

Once those ranges were determined and a safe line was established, the first of the Ysalamir were brought in, with a conventional battle having to be fought by the regular fleet ahead of it to clear the path, and the carnage of that was mind boggling. Hundreds of thousands of Star Force drones against millions of minions and Hadarak warships. If they’d waited until the fighting was over it would have taken months, so the fleet didn’t fight to win, but rather to clear the path ahead enough for the Ysalamir to get its first shot off.

The massive ship sent a stream of projectiles out in rapid sequence, looking like it was spitting a line of dots for Pacman to gobble up, and it didn’t stop. It kept going on and on until the first objects finally collided with the distant strand, hitting it and imbedding in the growth or, usually, just deflecting off it as a cascade of energy weapons on the strand tried to target the objects, and succeeded with many, but not all. Those that hit did almost no damage, nor were they supposed to, for they were merely the conduit for the weapon discharge to come.

Star Force had learned this trick from an old enemy, and the Assault Pillar-class Ysalamir summoned up its destructive energy matrix and launched it out the front of the vessel just above the projectile launcher that had not stopped its stream of releases.

The Ysalamir energy could not travel far before dissipating, but it soon found one of the moving objects and clung to it, then arced off it to the next one ahead…and the next, and the next, regathering its cohesion on each landing and launch as it made its way down the long stretch of objects that were not destroyed by it, for they had been designed to catch and release it…and nothing else.

It took nearly a minute for the blue/white energy matrix to make it all the way from the ship to the strand, and when it did it sunk into the 1.4 mile wide growth at the desired point, but it did not explode. Instead it absorbed into it, immediately turning the sickly green/grey material of the strand black with it flaking off in bits and pieces as the effect spread in both directions down the length of the crooked coil.

And it continued spreading for thousands of miles before finally expending the cascade reaction Star Force had built into it and tuned specifically for these growths, destroying so much mass that it would have taken the conventional fleet days of continuous firepower to rip apart everything that the Ysalamir had belatedly just destroyed over the course of 48 minutes.

The Bsidd commander of the Ysalamir bobbed his angular head in satisfaction at the weapon results, for it had never been tested against such a structure, only small samples, and he was relieved that the Mastertechs’ analysis had been correct. But even with that massive amount of destruction accomplished, it was a small dent in the network of growths across this system.

“Recharge weapon and deploy to second position. This is going to take a while, so get comfortable,” he told his command crew onboard the Ysalamir as the fleet continued to keep the enemy minions off them. “Time to mow the sepla grass.”

2

December 17, 154967

System 882934 (Hadarak Territory)

Low Stellar Orbit

Paul-024 waited inside his astromech, mentally bonded to it inside the Excalibur, as the first Hadarak mainline vessels came out of their interstellar jump blind to his position. The long range Star Force weapons destroyed them before they even had a chance to flee, for Paul had accurately predicted the point on the jumpline where they would emerge…for they didn’t expect an ambush in one of their own systems.

There were four planets here filled with Hadarak, but all the naval assets were gone, destroyed by Paul as he waited here for 5 days based on the reports from the hundreds of thousands of scout ships out gathering data on Hadarak systems and the movements of their fleets, and in this case, the position of their Wardens in particular. For while other trailblazers were leading invasion fleets, Paul was back to solo hunting in his Borg vessel, but he was no longer trying to track down the remaining elusive Lurkers.

He was going after the slow traveling Wardens, and didn’t even care about the mainline units he was destroying now. The Excalibur was here because there were three Wardens soon to arrive with them, and each of those took thousands of years to grow to decent size…whereas mainline ships could reach maximum size within 4 four years.

Those could be spammed, the Wardens could not, and it was the Wardens that were the key to the Hadarak invasion, though it didn’t appear so now. Back when the V’kit’no’sat were still independent, the Wardens were the most terrifying thing in the galaxy…but only because the Hadarak hadn’t shown their other units. Lurkers were far more dangerous, and the mainline ships were far faster. The Wardens were slow, bulky, and didn’t have ranged weaponry.

But what they were, was mobile battle stations and the brains behind the swarms.

In addition to that, they were MCVs that could reproduce all of their units from resources harvested in the field starting from onboard factories rather than the small seed units the Hadarak were using to spread new colonies elsewhere. Those took a lot of time to replicate out into full blown bases, but a Warden could land and create a base in a fraction of the time, as well as processing the resources for it to be built with by extending its tentacles down in the molten core of the planet and siphoning material directly rather than having to mine it out of the crust with an army of burrowers.

Paul had learned there was a lot more to the Wardens than even that, not to mention their ability to ram planets and penetrate most defenses with their sheer mass and momentum. One aspect was Essence communication, which wasn’t found in many, but Davis had teams out looking for it and had tracked some transmissions back to some specific Wardens that appeared no different than the others.

So they not only coordinated the local units, acting like a mastermind to make them fight better, but they were also somehow linked to other Wardens across the galaxy…but not in a regular manner. The Maty had some information on this, but not enough, and Paul knew they hadn’t seen the full Hadarak playbook yet.

But his instincts told him he needed to go Warden hunting, but he couldn’t just wait on a pipeline and pick them off coming in. He needed to know where they were and where they were moving to, and thanks to the scout ships he had an updating map that he checked in with periodically at secret drop boxes within Hadarak-owned systems that the scout ships would dump their data into, then others would make patrol runs from one drop box to another, copying and carrying the data around so people like Paul had a decent idea of what was moving where given the fact there was no communications network this deep into Hadarak territory.

Paul wasn’t all the way to the Web Wall, but he was two thirds of the way to it, intent on getting the Wardens before they could get to their targets, and some truly massive ones were showing up recently. He didn’t know if they were held in reserve in the Core until now or were coming from other galaxies, but each one he picked off could not be regrown during this war. Star Force would be at the Core long before that, and once they blocked off their intergalactic reinforcements, only local growths would come into play.

At that point there would be a fixed number of Wardens, and without them all the Hadarak had was the Lurkers…which were thinned out already…and their Mainline ships with minion transports. Those Star Force knew how to handle, and even a small outpost with planetary defense shields could stop them from getting onto a friendly planet or a recently cleansed one. It was the threat of Warden ramming that made it impossible to establish strong points and lock down planets against the Hadarak save for a massive amount of resources being devoted to the task.

Others were out hunting Wardens too, but Paul was better at it because they didn’t have a full map to work with. He had bits and pieces coming in, and the ones tagged he could find easily enough, for they couldn’t go too far in any direction if Paul showed up at a system and didn’t find them. It was finding more nearby and guessing where they might be moving through the most that Paul was having to use his instincts for.

And he was getting very good at it.

But the galaxy was huge, and they could move thousands through it without Paul knowing up until they hit the Grand Border…and right now it was getting very little business, for Star Force had moved the fight into Hadarak territory and they enemy’s mobile fleets were now fighting on the defensive.

They were losing, and bad, but they had previously conquered so much territory the losses of systems were insignificant. The losses of Lurkers and Wardens were not, so while others focused on taking territory away from them and breaching the Web Wall, Paul was going for the longer lasting victories, and he was about to get another 3 as the approach vector sensors began to ping a large contact in super accelerated reflected sunlight.

Soon afterwards a Tier 4 Hadarak came out of its braking maneuver amidst a swarm of mainline ships before and after it, along with an Essence-enhanced Tar’vem’jic nailing it almost immediately and burning through the outer layers of Yeg’gor like a chainsaw, with the mainline ships running into the beam intentionally to try and protect the Warden as it began to slowly spin, dragging the constant beam away from the hole it was digging into it.

Paul flew the Excalibur closer, plowing through the minion clouds being released from the Hadarak and seeing his shields dip with the ramming, but he kept the Tar’vem’jic in line with the target hole and dug it deeper and deeper as a second Tier 4 Hadarak arrived behind it, and almost rammed it as the first one had not yet fully cleared the jumpline.

The trailblazer ignored it and stayed in position over the first, switching out Tar’vem’jic batteries as each had to periodically recharge. He had 4 of the largest ever built installed in the Excalibur specifically for this mission…along with enough Essence wells to provide him with additional firepower for months of heavy combat without having to be refilled by tanker, for he was far from any such support. He’d have to return to a secret waypoint base for supplies and Essence, which he had already done several times, and he hated leaving to do it. But each back he made came with several hundred Warden kills, and without the modifications made to the Excalibur that would have been down to 10 or 12.

Paul was having to tank a lot of damage with his ship’s shields in order to stay with the Warden, but he remained outside grapple field range, as well as tentacle range, and the Warden was not fast enough to even try and maneuver away from the Borg vessel. All it could do was spin and order its escorts to attack, but Paul had killed so many in stages as they came out of the jump they didn’t have the numbers to force him to break off, and every minute he stayed with the Warden meters and meters of Yeg’gor were disintegrated.

This Warden had thicker armor than most, and the Tar’vem’jic didn’t penetrate to the weaker inner tissue until a depth of 28 miles. That was odd for a Tier 4, and the first Paul had seen. He knew the Yeg’gor got thicker with age, like trees adding rings, but they also got larger and that required more Yeg’gor to keep the same thickness. This one had to have maintained its size and added more depth to its armor, making Paul consider the possibility that maybe this was a different breed, or maybe had a different mission prior to this purge, but that didn’t matter, for Paul eventually got through the outer layer and continued to burn down through the other miles of tissue much faster, eventually getting to the central brain using Tar’vem’jic alone as the second Hadarak tried to ram the Excalibur.

It was a good move, and he had to break off to dance around it like a slow moving snowball rolling down a shallow hill, and as it blew past him he moved the Excalibur back into position and continued to pour a tiny needle of energy down into the beast and poke into its brain.

He saw the visible twitch when it finally got there, but the beam kept going straight through, not expanding laterally, so it didn’t kill the Hadarak. This one was too big for that, and it continued to adjust its rotation to try and throw off the target lock Paul had as the view of it was so obscured by minion clouds that Paul could barely see what he was shooting at on visuals.

Now that he had the conduit burrowed through the armor, he released an Essence attack on the surrounding cloud of minions, killing all of the small ones immediately as the heart attack weapon targeted their blood pumping and shut it down. The larger ones, along with the mainline ships, were hindered momentarily, but shook it off and kept fighting as the corpses of the others were plowed aside as the Excalibur moved out of the mess, giving Paul clear shots at the remaining Hadarak ships that continued to pursue him.

It wasn’t hard to target each of them mentally, but Paul let his crew handle most of it with the smaller weapons covering the cube-shaped vessel burning through or exploding them with single shots for the most part. The mainline ships took more hits to go down, but even with the arrival of the third Hadarak, which was a smaller Tier 3, and its release of minions, the Excalibur was in good enough position to clear a conduit down to the first Warden and fire another Tar’vem’jic briefly to clear out the creep of the innards that was slowly sealing off the hole beneath the Yeg’gor.

As soon as that beam shut down a projectile was shot out from the ship which Paul flew remotely down to the Hadarak, fighting against the grapple fields and some minions that tried to block the hole and ram it aside. Neither worked, and the specialized drone bomb flew down inside the bore hole heading towards the brain at the center.

Paul kept the ship over the bore hole so he could maintain control. If his comm array moved to the side slightly the bulk of the Warden would eclipse it and the drone would continue on its own preprogramming, but the trailblazer wanted to keep the reigns on this one all the way down.

He flew it from the drone’s point of view, traveling down the conduit as bulges of material burst out from the side walls with cascades of liquid falling down like waterfalls under the gravity of the Hadarak itself. He was flying a half mile every few seconds, and was slowing down as he went, for if he rammed the far side it would destroy the drone before it could detonate. It wasn’t a ‘blow it up with anything’ bomb, but one that required a very specific chain reaction internally, and that meant the drone had to survive to target, otherwise it would be destroyed or prematurely detonate where it wouldn’t seriously hurt the Hadarak.

Even with all of Star Force’s Essence weaponry, destroying one was almost impossible. They were just too big and had too much mass. The key was to get to the brain and kill it there, leaving the rest of the Hadarak intact.

Apparently the other two Wardens realized they weren’t going to save this one, so they called off all the minions and Mainline ships still alive, along with those still arriving on the jumpline, and summoned them to the two Wardens as they accelerated as hard as they could towards the star, attempting to run there and hide before Paul could come after them.

That was also a smart move, but it wasn’t going to save them in the long run, and as the drone finally got to the ocean of liquid and chunky gore at the bottom of the bore hole and rammed into it at slow enough speed to penetrate, Paul flew it down into the zero gravity at the center of the Hadarak while also was reconfiguring the ship for star dive.

The drone eventually got to a point where the bore hole was too small, and it got jammed between two walls of swelling inside the brain, but it had reached its detonation. Paul triggered the overload to begin, then monitored the geyser of material shoot out the bore hole and into space after the transmission from the drone cut out.

The rotation of the Warden became ballistic, meaning no more corrections to try and twist out of alignment with the Excalibur. The tentacles also stopped moving, and the grapple fields surrounding the beast disappeared. It was now brain dead, but it would take days for the rest of the body to catch up, and the minion production factories inside could still be active for weeks, so all of the danger wasn’t gone yet, but the Warden could no longer maneuver or attack, meaning mission accomplished.

Paul left that dead Warden behind and headed towards the star, not catching the two fleeing Hadarak before they got there, so he dove into the star following the convection trail they left upon entering, and seeing that they had split up as they delved deeper into the glowing material.

He couldn’t attack them here the same way, and they couldn’t use their tentacles at extreme depths without exposing the softer innards under those orifices in the Yeg’gor. Their grapple fields were also hindered by the mass of the stellar material, though they could still use them for some tasks.

The only way Paul could kill them now was to basically dock with one of them and repeat the process at point blank range…but he had to find and get to them first, and if they went too deep he wouldn’t be able to follow…and with this star, he couldn’t scan all the way down either. The material was too dense, so if he didn’t get them quickly, and they went straight towards the interior, he was going to lose them.

But not today. He was going to get at least one, and if the other survived he’d leave a cloaked monitor drone in the system to watch for when it came out, then that drone would run to the nearest drop box and report it leaving while Paul went chasing other leads. He knew better than to wait here and lay siege, for that was a waste of time even if he eventually did catch it coming out.

There were too many Wardens out there for him to go after, so if he couldn’t get them by the end of today, or maybe tomorrow, then he’d leave. And within a star, one didn’t fly through it at any sort of ‘speed,’ especially when you were in a 327 mile wide warship or a nearly equal sized living asteroid. At least not when you got down to the deeper and denser layers in the star.

Right now they were still in the thin stuff up top, and Paul had caught up enough to already catch some draft off the one that had gone left and was angling down rather than doing a straight deep dive.

He’d catch up within an hour and a half, maybe two. Then it was as good as gone. It was the other one that he wasn’t sure about, but he was still tracking it, even as the sensor image grew gradually fainter over time.

And this was one of the rare few times he kicked himself for going with an unaerodynamic box-shape for a warship, for the drag on the hull was far worse for the Excalibur than it was for the Hadarak, and he didn’t have the shield power to alter its shape by creating null zones around it. There was too much buoyancy factor to fight if he did that, which amplified the deeper he went.

But Paul’s ship was still faster, and now that he was on the scent, he knew this one wasn’t going to get away, and it probably did as well, so he took the opportunity to reach out to it telepathically using the equipment on his ship designed by the Furyans and Uriti Wranglers after they had had their partial language breakthrough with the enhancements in the Furyan minds.

If you wish to live, we can negotiate terms… he said, not in words, but in a method that the Megaloids should be able to understand, no matter what their race.

What terms? it replied, shocking Paul so much his passive, eyes closed face in his astromech cocoon visibly twitched…

3

If you stop fighting us, I let you go, Paul said, not sure where this was going.

Go where?

That was a good question. If the other Hadarak wouldn’t accept a traitor, he didn’t actually have anywhere to go.

You can stay here and we will ignore you. We are fighting because your kind are trying to destroy us. Stop doing that, and we are no longer enemies.

I do not want to die, but what you ask is impossible. We must cleanse this galaxy so life can restart anew. It is our purpose.

I know of others like you with a similar purpose. They found out that they had a choice and could find a new purpose. Now they are our allies. Why must the Hadarak be our enemies?

The current says so, and we obey the current. To defy it is worse than death.

Why are you talking to me when the others wouldn’t?

You speak of the young ones. They do not know how to interpret your thoughts. I learned long ago during my first cleanse. This is the 18th.

You came from another galaxy?

We travel amongst the great swirls of stars to those that need assistance. Many die, but we always accomplish our mission. I have been fortunate to survive and learn. You are more powerful than I, this I know. Now I die, but the others will live and finish the cleanse. This is the way.

That made Paul mad, and he sent memories of the Uriti and their history in a mega-dump of information that would have overloaded a Human mind, but the Hadarak would not have an issue with it. He just hoped it could understand it, for Paul didn’t have the time to translate it into the Uriti speak he had been using.

This is the way, he countered.

They are corrupted.

They were, but we have uncorrupted them.

They must be destroyed.

They still see you as brothers, and do not want to fight you. Does that not mean they are uncorrupted?

Do they still hear the current?

I have not asked them, Paul said carefully. What is the current?

It is what makes the will of the Hadarak known. In the center of the swirl we can hear it ever-present. Out here it is brought to us as memory by those who carry it. I cannot betray the current.

Where does the current lead you now?

To destroy all life in the outer region of this swirl of stars.

And then?

Then the current will tell me what to do next.

Has it ever told you to do something other than destroy?

It tells us when to spawn. It tells us where to travel. It tells us how and what to make. We live to serve the current.

How will your death today serve it?

It will not unless I can damage you.

Do you hear the current now?

Within my mind only. I must fight.

Why then are you talking to me?

Because you spoke to me.

Why are you not larger like the others?

The current does not tell me to grow larger. It tells me to grow stronger.

How can I hear the current?

The suddenness of the response caught Paul off guard, for it began within a fraction of a second and in a form he had trouble understanding, but as it played out over a few minutes he cataloged it and analyzed within the astromech part of his mind that his Core simultaneously inhabited.

He felt the call, the need, the purpose of the Hadarak…and it overwhelmed him until Azoro stepped in and clarified his mind for him, adding the context and experience he was missing.

Is this what you have been looking for? Azoro asked Paul.

In the ballpark, Paul said, his eyes tearing up.

It is not your path, but it is a clear path and it resonates with you because you have nothing else that is a closer match.

How can I ask him to defy this? Paul said, knowing the hopelessness of it…then Azoro gave him an idea.

Thank you for sharing the current with me, he said after a long pause. The Uriti have found a superior method of cleansing this galaxy, and we are in their employ, so there is no need for us to be enemies.

They are cleansing?

They have partnered with us. They give us their power, and we do the cleansing for them. None of them die. We protect them. Our partnership is cleansing the outer edge of the galaxy and removing those that do not belong. Why are you trying to deny us our current mandate?

The current does not speak of you as part of the unity. It labels you as those to be destroyed. Show me your current memory.

I do not have memory. I can feel it ever-present here.

I cannot. Feed it to me so I can confirm your unity.

Paul knew he was stretching here, for he didn’t even understand his own purpose in this life as well as he needed to, but he didn’t need to share his own. He had a much older one already worked out.

The trailblazer let Azoro take control, slipping back into ‘viewer’ mode as the Sha’kier channeled his own sense of the Saiolum to the Hadarak, adding in his philosophy, mandate, and purpose for existence in what Paul had come to refer to as Masterbuilder doctrine, but Azoro was shoving stuff through him they had never talked about before. Advanced stuff…really advanced, and Paul was trying to grab as much of it as he could while looking to see how the Hadarak responded, for it wasn’t a one way conversation. More like a mind meld between the two of them in a compartmentalized, pre-fashioned connection that must have been how a courier would transmit the current memory to the Hadarak this far away from the Core.

The bits and pieces that stuck with Paul changed him instantly, for it was like puzzle pieces that he could never put together on his own were being generated and thrown at him with instructions. The more he caught and put into their place the more he could understand, and the light trickle of the Saiolum that he had previously seen as gushing was now surpassed by an ocean of it so dense and strong that Paul had trouble breathing. The emotion of it was more intense than the current the Hadarak had shared, and for a brief moment he grasped his purpose, his mission…then before he could analyze it it was pulled away and his mind numbed up again, as if he was going blind to that puzzle piece that he shouldn’t have had yet, but many more were still coming and he tried to focus on those despite the disappointment of the loss of…whatever it had been.

Break off the attack, Azoro told Paul rather than use his body to send the orders into the Excalibur himself. This one has to live.

Paul regained control of his body and eased his ship off the pursuit path and onto a more or less parallel track, still descending deeper into the star.

What just happened?

I’m sorry to involve you like that, Azoro apologized, but this was an opportunity I have been waiting a very long time for. Are you alright?

You tell me.

The Saiolum is more than it appears to be, and greater depths are revealed as you gain skill and experience. You saw far beyond your level. That was forbidden for us to do to a Ke’lar, but since I am the last of the Ska’kier and you are far more than a Ke’lar I decided to risk it. Your emotions are more erratic than I have ever witnessed in you. You have been altered.

A blind was lifted on me…then it closed again, but not as far as before.

I believe you refer to that as an epiphany.

More like a hundred of them all at once. What did you do?

Explored a theory I have had for a long time. A lot was confirmed, but I learned a few unexpected things. Your work with the Uriti has given me a baseline I did not have before. Now I know, and because of that I am encountering far more questions than I had before…but we can talk of that later. I need to attend to you. And you need to remove yourself from the astromech, if you can. Logical analysis will not help you here, and those mechanical components are quite crude and cumbersome. Release them and clarity will be easier to attain.

Paul focused on that one task, not wanting to let go of what he had learned and felt, but he made himself abandon it despite that fact that it felt like he was slipping even further from whatever epiphanies he had had. The Furyan had to be stubborn and ignore it all, then he slowly extracted his Core from the astromech and reabsorbed it fully into his body, after which he opened his eyes and then his cocoon, stepping out on his own legs and falling to the floor just shy of the chasm-like drop off beyond his alcove.

Breathe, Azoro advised. Feel the Saiolum within your body simultaneously. Do not focus on one, but see both at once.

Paul did so, but then his focus was pulled far beyond his body. He felt the room he was in, and all the way down the chasm…then out deck after deck through the ship like a bubble being blown up, and he could feel everything in it.

Not so fast. Your brain can’t handle that much information.

I don’t know how to stop.

A light touch will be enough. You must feel the information and let it pass through you. Do not try and hold on to it. Be like your old roller coasters. Do not watch the track behind you. Live in the moment and feel…

Paul’s mind flicked to Frozen’s Elsa and the song ‘Let it go,’ which he mentally linked to the ship’s nearest node and summoned up to play on the speakers as a reminder as he saw through the ship every direction he looked. Most of it was machinery and not alive, so the Saiolum wasn’t being generated by it, but those within were little wellsprings, including the bioharvest facilities deep within that allowed a replenishing of some foodstuffs for a small crew so they didn’t have to rely on storage alone…plus Paul like having fresh apples to eat…and play with in the Archon Sanctum.

Lighter, Azoro urged. A feather touch only.

Paul eased up more, and felt his bubble extend greatly, covering a third of the ship that he felt connected with in a way that had never happened before. In fact…

“The plants.”

What about them?

“They’re the same construction as us. I can see it now.”

You always knew that.

“No, this is more. The construction of our bodies is the same as the plants. We come from the same source, and in the Saiolum we are…one.”

Similar to you and your astromech. One lives, one does not, but both are of the same unity.

“Is that what you told the Hadarak?” Paul said, finally standing up as he continued to stare through the walls, ceiling, and floor, looking around at all angles as if he was Neo from the Matrix seeing the code for the first time.

Not something you need to know now.

“What am I experiencing?”

A bit of my existence. I’ve never had an apprentice learn as fast as you, and you’ve just taken a giant leap forward. Rather cheating, actually.

“Your fault,” Paul said, continuing to stare at the blank walls around him as he was seeing into another realm and how it was really this one at the same time, he’d just been oblivious to it before. “And thanks.”

You are not safe yet. You must maintain your light contact until your mind absorbs the revelations. Take it easy for once in your life.

Paul smiled. “Where’s the fun in that?”

He sat down on the deck, crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap as he felt the Saiolum inside of him and coming out, for he was producing it as all other life was onboard the ship, and he could see it hitting the walls and rippling off them, while going through as well. The Saiolum interacted with the ship, without altering it, as if a ghost reaction…and he pulled inside him in a way he had never realized he could before.

As the song continued to blare out ‘Let it go, let it go’ he took the prompt and somehow caused his body to create more Saiolum than normal. A lot more, with hit saturating his body and flowing out so much his skin began to tickle with goosebumps all over and didn’t stop.

Easy. You’ve just learned to do that. There’s no danger, except that you can overload your brain and black out.

Not going to happen, Paul said silently, for his body was barely moving with his breathe as he watched the ripples on the ship around him increase and crisscross like he was making waves in a pool and seeing the echoes come back to cross the new ones, and the interactions fascinated him, as was his effect on the nearest crewmembers…who suddenly started to produce more Saiolum in response to him, somehow.

Addictive, isn’t it?

Very cool, Paul amended.

Until you’re trapped in it with nothing to do. What you are doing now is producing the current, similar to what the Hadarak feels from the others of his kind. It’s both orders and kinship, for them. For us it’s the universal unity that we are all within. We’re supposed to be allied together, not torn apart, and when you feel this you can understand it…maybe not comprehend it…but you can understand that we are meant to be one. This Hadarak knows this now, though he doesn’t understand it. He will stay in this star a long time, and I need you to remain here for a while.

For a chance to chat with a Hadarak? Obviously.

We need to do more than chatting.

The other one?

Ignore it. Let it go. It doesn’t matter. The old one does. They mature very slowly. I did not understand how slowly. The others you can’t talk to because they haven’t learned to talk to others than their own kind.

Did you ever snoop on their minds before?

I tried, but couldn’t understand them until now. And I can confirm they are not originals. They have been repurposed from another form, just like the Uriti are from Hadarak.

The mystery guests from the Maty?

Most likely a link there, but I think the Hadarak…or whatever they came from…have builder roots. That’s what I connected with. And that’s why this one is building something for me.

Building?

Something internal. I showed it how, and that is a great risk. This knowledge cannot be allowed to spread to the other Hadarak. If this one cannot be turned, it must be destroyed before it can share what it’s learned from me.

What did you do? Paul demanded icily.

What Star Force cannot. It’s growing a bit of Sha’kier technology for me.

A body?

Of course not. That requires more than either of your civilizations could hope to achieve. It’s building a connection to the Saiolum so it can hear my current. And once it does, I’ll be able to try and take control of it if needed.

Azoro…

We must give it a current stronger than what it already has, or there is no chance it will turn against its purpose. The Chixzon must have deleted that ability from the Uriti. Their biological knowledge continues to amaze me.

So you’re putting a leash on it?

No. I’m establishing a bridge, and through it I’m going to learn more about them than anyone else has ever dreamt of.

You’re onto something, aren’t you?

That remains to be seen. But this should confirm or deny it.

How long to grow what you need?

A few weeks at the minimum.

Easily done, but we can’t stay here indefinitely, Paul said regretfully, knowing that every Warden they didn’t kill could mean more ships or troops would be destroyed in the war later on. And if this one is going to play nice, I’m not going to kill him because you gave him a new toy.

Are you going to stop surging? Or are you wanting to black out?

Not just yet, Paul said with a smirk. This feels too good…

4

February 3, 154968

Kio Nutarri Nebula (Unexplored Frontier)

Neofan Temple #1

A dropship from the Star Force embassy flew out to an uninhabited spot within the Neofan Temple and dropped off a single individual on a rocky plateau high enough to see over the sea of trees around him. Not long after a Neofan barge came and also dropped off a single individual on the opposite side of the plateau before leaving, allowing a good quarter mile walk between the pair.

The Neofan walked faster than the Human, given his taller height and longer stride, but they still met near the center of the plateau with neither of them armed or wearing armor, though both were dangerous in their own right, despite the fact the Human was at a significant disadvantage in bodily strength, though not in boldness. The Reignor had to give him that.

“Have you recovered your people from the Zak’de’ron facility?” Director Davis asked, continuing to walk forward until he was about four meters away, then stopped and stared up at the crown-wearing House Atriark leader.

“We have. You’ve set our plans back immensely.”

“And what plans were those?”

“In our possession, Uriti production of Essence would eclipse all our traditional sources. We would become far stronger than House Mutavi and have the strength…eventually…to take the war to the Hadarak across multiple galaxies. Now you have denied us this.”

“Do you know why?”

“Normally I would assume it was to maintain your Essence production dominance in this galaxy, but I suspect it has something more to do with your lightside philosophy.”

“The Uriti are not possessions. They are people. The same as all the ones you murdered in Utovi in order to eat their corpses. You lied to me.”

The Neofan spread his arms wide in an open gesture. “We have no such foodstuffs here. House Atriark does not eat corpses any longer. Nor do we wear Pol’so’nep. Nor do we have servants of any kind here. We have abided by our agreement, and our past lives in Utovi are irrelevant.”

“Unless you intend to return to those practices,” Davis said with the barest hint of threat.

“I am a realist, Director. Though I do not take orders from you, we agreed to live in your galaxy under your negotiated terms in order to benefit ourselves. We cannot violate these because we are not strong enough to do so, and we will never be strong enough if you continue to grow at even a fraction of your current rate.”

“Then what is your long term objective?”

“You assume there is only one?” the Neofan said, waving a hand before him dismissively, as if he expected Davis to be wiser.

“You have found a way to use Essence to advance your race, perhaps multiple times, triggering an unknowable metamorphosis that leaves the individual highly advanced,” Davis said bluntly, drawing a curious facial reaction from the Reignor, as if he was reevaluating who he was speaking with. “We have analyzed samples of your genetic code, finding several different bloodlines. My Archons have made such a transition themselves, without knowing your technique, and our initial analysis suggests they are now slightly more advanced than you. And they still look to me for counsel.”

“When did this occur?” the Reignor demanded with intense curiosity.

“Not long ago. And though I did not go through the process myself, I am peers with them, and thus I am a peer with you, so let’s drop the pretense. We know the more advanced you become certain aspects of your mindset change. Why are you not behaving as intelligently as your genetics suggest?”

“There is a great deal you do not understand, Director.”

“For your sake you had better educate me, because I foresee a war between us eventually,” Davis said, dropping all his pretense like a hammer. “You are biding your time rather than assimilating, and while we cannot fight you now with the Hadarak prioritizing our efforts, if we win, we cannot and will not abide such depravity that we are hearing in the stories of your former servants. Your civilization is darkside, and if there is anything you can understand about the lightside, let it be this. We are honor-bound to fight the darkside wherever it resides. If you will not turn to the lightside, then you will meet your destiny in a war against your soon to be superiors.”

“Why must it be lightside?” the Reignor asked, seeming not to be offended by the proclamation. “There are many within your own borders that are not. I believe you call them ‘neutral.’ Is that not acceptable for the Neofan, or do you hold us to a higher standard?”

“I hold all those I make agreements with to honor them as negotiated.”

“Our boundary violation,” he surmised. “We did violate our terms in what I thought would be an unseen way. We got caught. I admit it. What do you intend to do about it?”

“Trust is broken. And while that may not meant much to your civilization, you will find it is a commodity in this galaxy that is more valuable than most others.”

“Do you expect us to recompense?”

Davis shook his head sadly. “How can someone supposedly so advanced be so ignorant? Perhaps there is more to the Core and less to the body and mind than we had thought.”

“There is much to the Core. If you have not already figured this out, then perhaps it is your ignorance that is getting in the way.”

“What do you believe I am missing?”

“When one reproduces, do you truly believe the new lifeform had a Core delivered to it randomly?”

“I have yet to see any other pattern.”

“We have. Do you know who you are? Not what your life has made you, but who you are in just your Core alone?”

“To a degree, yes.”

“Do you carry any memory from beyond this life?”

Davis frowned. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Forgive my lack of intricacy in your language. I will restate. Do you have any knowledge from beyond this life? Something you know, but you can’t trace to a point of learning it?”

“Genetic memory.”

“No. I speak of knowledge that comes from your Core alone. Have you never compared it to the decoded genetics?”

“It has been rumored by some.”

“But never confirmed…ah, now I see. You would not do the mental deconstruction to find out. I understand your ignorance now.”

“Some form of torture?”

“Not for the purpose of inflicting pain or damage, but for the purpose of learning, yes.”

“That’s still torture regardless of the motivation.”

“Call it what you will, but when you download all the knowledge from a person’s mind and compare it to their genetic memory and theorize what they could have learned where, sometimes an anomaly is left behind. We have had an intricate interest in this anomaly, for it has told us that we come into this life with more than what your philosophy refers to as the ‘cold start.’”

“Reincarnation?”

“That we do not know. We cannot trace a source, only identify that which is brought with you to this life. And what we have found is that most carry nothing with them. Those that we have eaten in the past, were blanks. They were a ‘cold start,’ as are most of our former servants. Rarely there will be an anomaly that we identify, but most who are born Neofan come with excess knowledge…or perhaps I should say ‘traits’ instead. And not just us, Director. The more advanced the race, the more of these ‘preborns’ that we collect. So we are not just superior because of our genetics, we are superior because of who we are inside these bodies, and if your Archons are as you say they are, their progeny will most likely draw some of these preborns as well.”

“And you are one?”

The Reignor nodded. “Nearly 70% of House Atriark are, though that is speculation. We cannot confirm it without deconstructing the mind, which is lethal, but there are indirect methods of analysis that we rely on for ourselves.”

“And what preborn knowledge do you personally possess?”

The Neofan raised a hand upward, gesturing to the sky and the single artificial star above. “Vision. I can see beyond what is now, tracking multiple pathways our future might take, almost as if I have done this before. It is why I lead House Atriark.”

“An innate sense then?”

“Do you possess something similar?”

“I do, though I can’t say I’ve always had it. I’ve developed it over time.”

“Comparatively I had a head start then. When we are young we go through training, and those with preborn knowledge typically skip through sections of that training far faster than learning would allow. This is our primary method of identifying archetypical skills, though there are other more nebulous ones that we learn about after the fact. And this is not unique to us, for it has been identified in other races more advanced than our servants.”

“Any superior to you, genetically speaking?”

“We have encountered four during our history, and we successfully destroyed three of them.”

“Why?”

“To increase the number of our preborn…though, I will admit, that may not have been the reason with the first one. It was long before my time, but in the aftermath our preborn count…surged,” the Reignor said, holding that last word as if a cue for Davis to pick up on.

“There’s a limited number?”

The Reignor nodded. “We do not know how, or why, but it manifests itself in this way. So in the universe there are two types of people. The preborn, and the newborn. The newborn are expendable. The preborn are our peers. Do you now understand our use of servants better?”

“I see more of your flawed reasoning…and perhaps a bit more. Are any of the Zak’de’ron preborn?”

The Reignor nodded slightly in a gesture of respect for his understanding. “They do not know it, but some of them are. We estimate less than 10%.”

“And removing them from this galaxy increased House Atriark’s preborn birth rate?”

“Which will now be decreased if your empire has a Jenovak race in it.”

“Translation?”

“It is a unique term, but essentially one that has at least a small, regular amount of preborn entering it. All races seem to occasionally have an anomaly. Even the most primitive ones. We have done extensive research into this.”

“And such research methods are one reason we will most likely end up in war against one another.”

“I give you access to such knowledge gained by the research you denigrate, and yet you are not even allowing for the importance of it?”

“I am listening.”

“But not hearing. It is the preborn that determine the fate of galaxies. We are the designated leadership of the universe itself. And it is on us that the mantle of destiny has been laid. Not on the newborn. You cannot understand such things, let alone interact on such a level.”

“Yet here I am.”

“You may be preborn and not know it. In fact, I would wager you are based on the history of your empire.”

“Or perhaps you are in denial that a newborn could accomplish what the preborn cannot.”

The Reignor shrugged his wings. “A possibility. But understand we do not take orders from newborn. It is insulting to even consider such a thing.”

“What about those Neofan that are newborn?”

“They fall behind and compose the lower levels of our society. Given that there is no sure test for preborn, we rely on merit similar to how you do, but only during the proving stage of our lives. Once we know, we take our place where our preborn skills lies.”

“A caste system?”

“It is where we belong. And if a new type of preborn emerges, our society expands to encompass it. We have learned many things in this way.”

“Is it a galaxy-only phenomenon?”

“No. If you eliminate Jenovak in neighboring galaxies, it will also increase the count in yours, though lesser so. It is nearly mathematical, with a subfactor we have yet to identify.”

“Do any of these preborn come with names?”

“Nothing so specific.”

“And when you use your Essence technique to elevate yourselves, this increases your percentage?”

“No. It increases the potency of the preborn.”

“More knowledge?”

“Imagine a prodigy. You know not where their skill comes from, yet they have more than they are trained. The higher your Jenovak level, the higher level prodigies you will find. Did I use your term correctly?”

“I believe so. And I will say we were not totally unaware of this, though I’ve never heard it spoken of in your terms. But we understand that individuals have characteristics that transcend their biology. In fact, some of those characteristics are what make up our Archon recruitment pools.”

“I had wondered as much. This advancement they have undergone. Did it increase their size?”

“It did.”

“And their abilities?”

“Enhanced as well as gaining new ones.”

“And you had no spurring in this?”

“Spurring?”

“Technological.”

“Not that I’m aware. The artifacts?”

The Reignor nodded again. “We do not have an Essence technique for what you described. Races from long ago, more advanced than us, knew a way. We still do not know how it fully works, but three of the artifacts you have recovered for us contained the necessary mechanism to trigger an elevation if the precursors are present. If they are not, it does nothing.”

“Do these races have names?”

“We still cannot decipher their language. It appears…incomplete. The artifacts were found in areas I shall not mention under circumstances I shall not mention. But they were recovered, not created, by the Neofan. They have enhanced us greatly, and when we rise enough to generate sufficient precursors, they will most likely do so again.”

“How long does that take?”

“Millions of years at the minimum. Useless in the near future, but I like to play the long game, and while Utovi burns and the other Neofan struggle to find as many ships leaving as possible, I consider what is being left behind, and you gave me a way to obtain it without sending my own ships.”

“So you won’t be sharing them with the rest of the Neofan.”

“They will not know they were removed from Utovi. And if they discover them missing, they will assume they were destroyed or taken by the Hadarak.”

“Do the Hadarak want them?”

“They cannot use them, but they do collect such things.”

“Why?”

“Curiosity, perhaps.”

“And the apocalypse monsters?”

“Why do you refer to them with that name?”

“You didn’t give them a name in the Temples, and that was our original translation.”

“Was It? Why do you continue to use it?”

“Sounds scarier.”

“You are wise to recognize the threat. Do not let this galaxy become overpopulated, or you will draw their ravenous nature here.”

Davis inclined his head slightly and gave him an annoyed look. “That’s not the only reason they came to Utovi, was it?”

The Reignor returned his look. “What do you know that our former servants do not?”

“There’s some sort of rules to the universe that the major players operate on, and you broke one of them, didn’t you?”

“Your knowledge surprises me, Director.”

“I’m full of surprises. Not all of which you want to be the recipient of.”

“The Pafdreng feed as we described, but they also act as enforcers. The ‘rules’ you speak of state no-one is to own an entire galaxy. Room must be left for other races to emerge and grow. We assumed our servant races would account for this. Apparently we were wrong.”

“And who made these rules?”

“Unknown. But the Hadarak obey them. That is why they rarely go to the Rim…and why we claim the Rims with our Temples to counteract them.”

“And the recruitment of lesser races?”

“More pieces in the game, and all preborn understand the game in some form.”

“Enlighten me.”

“The universe is not about peaceful coexistence, Director. It is a contest, and the more you achieve the more rewards you get. The ‘rules’ are speculated to have been made by other players afraid of losing what they’ve gained. Preborns are not to be wasted in war against other preborns. We tend to respect each other’s territory while making plays elsewhere. The Hadarak push this to the limit, but they are involved somehow, though we have never directly spoken with them. Others claim to.”

“Others beyond the Bond of Resistance?”

“The Bond is a local alliance. The others are far from here. I do not know how many or how far. The universe is without end, at least not with one we can identify. And the power structures reach further and further the higher up you go.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“If you fully conquer this galaxy, you will be in violation of those rules. Do you understand this?”

“Part of me doesn’t care.”

“You would be wise to leave some of your unexplored areas wild. At least until you grow stronger. I sense you do not like these rules and have no intention of following them.”

“Accurate,” Davis confirmed pithily.

“Then you seek to play the game as well. You must be preborn.”

“And what is the objective of the game, in the end?”

“The game is too large to know, but I will tell you there are several prizes in the Core of this galaxy. Prizes that I would like to have, but that is impossible. You have a chance to claim them, if you remove the Hadarak and deal with their protectors.”

“Prizes?”

“Preborns are allocated by more than just Jenovak. Claiming certain sites alters the alignment. And the primary wellspring at the center of the galaxy…are you also aware of it?”

“Matter coming out of nowhere?”

“Indeed. It has the potential to be directed to create certain types of matter that you desire. We were partially successful in Utovi, but never mastered the technique. These and other prizes are scattered throughout the universe, and the more elevated you become the more of them you find. The preborn are drawn to them.”

“Gotta collect them all?”

“More than that. It is the belief of the Neofan…and others…that in the end there can only be one race of preborn in dominance. And when all preborn are united in a single race, the end game will become manifest. But not until then.”

“And the game instructions were found where?” Davis half mocked.

“Knowledge from some preborn. I know it is unreliable, but I feel it to be true.”

“And all the newborn are simply tools to be used in this game?”

“Now you begin to understand…yet I sense you do not believe.”

“Perhaps we are playing a different game. One you cannot yet see because you are not advanced enough.”

“Unlikely, but I will consider the possibility more if your lightside philosophy does destroy the Hadarak in this galaxy. It still befuddles me.”

“I am beginning to understand why.”

“Can you offer any additional direction?”

Davis smiled. “If there is a game going on in the universe, we of the lightside are fighting against the game itself.”

The Neofan looked at him coldly for a moment, then his eyes widened in pure astonishment and dread.

“You defy the universe itself?” he gasped…

5

“Rebel is a better word,” Davis offered. “I see recognition within you.”

“You are not the first to try. All others have been snuffed out before they could get as far as you have, but they never spoke of your lightside.”

“What did they speak of?”

“Destroying all the preborn and spoiling the game for those currently playing it.”

“Resetting the field to the newborn only?”

“Yes. And because of this they are hunted by all preborn and destroyed.”

“But if you are right and we are preborn?”

“Then you are twisted beyond measure.”

“Or…” Davis floated.

“Or…” he considered. “You may be attempting to unite all preborn in another way without realizing it. You seek to bond all races together rather than collect all preborn into one?”

“Is that what the apocalypse monsters are doing?”

“Some speculate, but no one knows. What are you up to, Director Davis? I find I have underestimated your empire considerably.”

“Some say we have a calling. To do what, we don’t know other than to protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

“To protect other preborn?”

“To protect everyone.”

“But the newborn do not matter.”

“Why are you so certain of that?”

“Because they amount to nothing. We have tried to elevate them. They are dense and cannot learn.”

“Perhaps their teachers are lacking in the necessary skill.”

The Reignor’s fists tightened, then relaxed. “Perhaps they are. You came here to make an ultimatum?”

“I did.”

“Then make it as clear as possible.”

“I will use your terms then, since there are things you cannot understand. We are playing the same game you are, but we are operating under different rules. If you operate under the same rules, we won’t attack you. If you violate the rules, you will find us as relentless as the Hadarak and Apocalypse Monsters combined. Is that clear enough?”

“What you are attempting to do will not be well received. You will be targeted by races you do not even know exist, and they will come for you when they realize your intent. They will destroy you. Not the Neofan.”

“Let them try,” Davis scoffed.

“Don’t underestimate them,” the Reignor warned. “We did, and it cost us our home galaxy.”

“It is you who underestimate our growth potential,” Davis said, pointing a finger up at him. “It is you who constantly underestimate the value of truth, loyalty, and doing the right thing. You underestimate the greatest power in the universe, because you are blind to it. All of you are. So answer this simple question. You’ve studied us. You’ve studied our history. Why are we not dead yet?”

“You are excellent strategists.”

“And why would an excellent strategist allow your House to gradually eat away at us from within? Do not think I have not seen your subtle maneuvering. Do not deny it.”

“You have come here to reiterate the terms of our agreement?”

“No. I have come to up the ante,” Davis said, taking a step closer to him, which required him to crane his neck up even further. “You are playing a long game. I am playing a longer one. Your race is in decline, and your greatest ambition is to take rulership of your race…only to have other Houses attempt to do the same to you. You plan for more than that, but you never get beyond it. You are petty and focused on a conflict that should not exist. Look at us. Our factions don’t fight one another. There is no ambition for takeover. We are one. We have unity. And you are forever distracted.”

“Your factions compete with each other constantly,” the Reignor pointed out.

“For what?”

“To outperform one another in order to raise their standing.”

“To what end?”

“If Humans decline, others will step in to take your place.”

Davis sighed, looking at the ground and shaking his head. “You miss the obvious because your own failings cloud your vision. Am I the only ruler in the galaxy that has clear vision?”

“What is it that you see?”

“Our greatest challenges are behind us. We were tested, and we proved our worth in a universe that doesn’t play fair. We survived, and we have grown stronger from it. Weakness was purged from us. Our bonds are solid. You will find no gap between us. No animosity to exploit. And if you expect internal conflict, there will be none to arise to cripple us as it has crippled you. We are stable. You are not. Any civilization that kills its own is not stable. You see it as weakness. I see it for what it is. We don’t have to fear an attack from within, because we have structured our empire on trust. Not blind trust, but earned trust. And such trust is very closely associated with the lightside, though not entirely the same thing. Do you know nothing of trust?”

“A temporary weakness when necessary.”

“How do you expect to run an empire of trillions without it?”

“Fear of reprisal keeps the weaker in check.”

“And your peers?”

“Self-preservation prevents us from moving against an equal opponent. Only when we are stronger do we supplant another House.”

“And while you do so, we grow stronger while you grow weaker. How many Neofan have been killed because their House failed you? And on that point, how do you not run out of Houses eventually?”

“New ones are created when the moment is right.”

“So House Atriark could split into two rival factions?”

“Possibly, but unlikely.”

“You waste so much time on this that it makes you inferior.”

“We are still far beyond you and your empire, even if your Archons have become Jenovak.”

“And how long do you expect that to last? How long before we pass you and the Bond of Resistance up? How do you account for our growth rate?”

“You benefit from the experience of others.”

“We have, but that isn’t all of it. What else?”

“You are innovative, but physiologically you are far below us, and your number of preborn will still be an anomaly within your population.”

“Then why can we take back this galaxy from the Hadarak when you can’t defend your own?”

“Your success is premature, but assuming you are correct, the lack of the Pafdreng is the obvious factor.”

“No it’s not. Why didn’t you take back other galaxies from them prior to the invasion of your own?”

The Reignor didn’t respond at first, then Davis decided to answer for him.

“It’s because of the rules, isn’t it? You can’t destroy the Hadarak, because that would be a violation and the others would move against you. You’re fighting a war that cannot be won because you’re holding back. A never-ending war where you hamper your own efforts. No wonder you’ve become apathetic.”

“No one can be allowed to dominate everything.”

“I thought you said that was your end game?”

“It is, but we will not be the last to remain if we attempt to conquer the others. Those who do are the first to be destroyed. That is the only way to maintain an amicable peace between us.”

“So why are the Hadarak allowed to do what they do?”

“They don’t conquer everything.”

“And the only way to defeat them is to completely wipe them out. Leave some around, and they rebuild faster than you do, correct?”

“You are more observant than I thought. Have you had contact with the others?”

“I’m more connected than you know, but there are many things I don’t know that you do. You’re not going to tell me everything, and I’m not going to tell you everything, but what we have shared has been mutually beneficial. And in that time, over thousands of years, we’ve progressed considerably. Have you?” Davis challenged.

“You had further to come.”

“But what have you accomplished since coming here? The move was wise. I credit you that while I condemn you for abandoning your servants. You saved the entirety of your House, assuming you have told the truth, but since then what have you done? Your population has increased, your warship count also, but nothing considerable. You mostly sit here and do…what? Wait for an opportunity to move against House Mutavi? You barely fight the Hadarak at all while claiming to be our superiors. What is it that you do here?”

“Working towards the future.”

“I don’t see it. All I see is a decadent race resting on the accomplishments of the past and doing little to work towards an upgrade. But then again, if you have machines to do it for you, perhaps you have forgotten how to ascend naturally?”

“I grant you work harder than we do. But do not think we are idle here.”

“What is the goal of the Bond of Resistance? I get the survival part. But is there a plan beyond that?”

“The Hadarak are a constant. The Bond gives us security and a means to relocate if and when we fall to them.”

“But you want it to become more?”

“Some have argued that.”

“You want to go after the Hadarak, but the Bond knows the others will target you. And you know unless you have the entire Bond of Resistance your chances are non-existent. You’ve been grooming the Bond to become a counter to the others, haven’t you?”

“Not I, but the Neofan have wanted this for some time. The Denogi and Veloqueen do not. They do not aspire for more. Most do not. They are fearful and only want to hold on to what they have,” the Reignor replied honestly, surprising himself at his own candor.

“How many of them are Jenovak?”

“Not many. I do not know if the Veloqueen can be categorized in the same manner. The Neofan have the highest percentage of Jenovak by far, and it is our Jenovak that have developed a disproportionate amount of the shared technology within the Bond of Resistance that was used to construct the Temples.”

“And the transit system?”

“Part of it. We built…or rather rebuilt…an existing system. We also extended it, but the original predates the Bond. We don’t know where it came from, but analysis of it greatly enhanced the Neofan and the others. Most Bond members discovered it on their own and began exploring through what pieces of it were viable. That’s been the criteria for inclusion in the Bond for most of our history, with some notable exceptions and sponsorships, such as yourself, we hoped.”

“Did the makers of the network have a name?”

“Such information is restricted to the Bond only.”

“Were they destroyed?”

“They were. That much we have been able to determine.”

“Have you considered this ‘endgame’ you are reaching for might be fake?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Unfortunately Humans have a long history of false promises. Before the time of Star Force. Have you been able to verify this endgame?”

“No, but we have no doubts.”

“Is it reachable for you?”

“I cannot see a way now. But if we become stronger, a way will be shown. This has occurred throughout our history, which is far longer than yours.”

“How old are you?” Davis asked.

“418 million of your years. You are an infant compared to nearly all of us. I do not meant that as an insult, only that you have a long way to go to catch up to our experience.”

“There you are wrong, Reignor. I outrank you in experience. You inherited a civilization. A culture. A history. A purpose. I had to construct mine from nothing, and that experience is more than you will ever possess. And it is that experience that I am using to continue to grow Star Force’s power. I can do it so easily now. Just the same way I can easily see the flaws in other civilizations, including yours. I am not the infant. You are. All of you are. For you are making infant mistakes rather than searching for true power and a true purpose.”

“What purpose is greater than the endgame?”

“Do you know who told you of it? Or is that blind faith I hear?”

“You think it is a guise to control or spur us?”

“Have you considered that?”

“Truthfully I have not. Those wiser than me swore to it. And it is the ultimate goal of the Neofan.”

“If the universe is infinite, how can there be an endgame?”

“It cannot be infinite, and it cannot end. It is a paradox we have not solved yet, but there is an answer. We will have to discover it before I can answer your question.”

“Meanwhile you pursue what could be fiction, and use that fiction to justify abhorrent actions.”

“You would have us be purposeless?”

“Do you not seek a purpose you can interact with? One you can personally verify?”

“I only wish to do my part.”

“And here I thought you were ambitious?”

“Is that an attribute or rebuke?”

“Could go either way.”

“I have not seen a stated purpose for Star Force within your culture. Do you have one?”

“We have many. To do the right thing. To look out for each other. To upgrade. To solve the mysteries of the universe. To defy the darkside in every way possible. I could compile a much larger list if I put some effort into it.”

“And all these things lead up to what?”

“We don’t know. We admit we don’t know where we come from, why we’re here, or what we’re supposed to do…if anything. We don’t hide from this. We don’t make up stories claiming we know what is going on and avoiding the universal void of hopelessness. We challenge that void, face it and know our enemy. We are here. This we know. We have no mission. No instructions. We are in a ‘cold start’ situation. We played many games in a similar manner, so the idea is not foreign, but it is hard to visualize in the beginning. We are here, but we don’t know what’s going on. Figuring it out is part of our purpose, out of necessity at least, but without that knowledge we have to either put everything on hold until we find out…in which case we’ll be waiting forever…or we accept that we are who we are, and we are where we are whether we like it or not. That leaves the question, not of what we’re supposed to do, but of what we will do…”

“You choose your own destiny?”

6

“In a way, yes, but it is more out of frustration. The universe wants us to be darkside, and we refuse. We grow so irritated at the odds being stacked against us we get to the point where we stop calculating them, stop trying to survive, stop being used as pawns in someone else’s game. We just sit or stand where we are, raging inside, and say fuck it all. We’re doing to do this our way, even if we die trying. And in that defiance, we choose who we are and how we’re going to live…or how we’re going to die…but the universe will not break us. It will not turn us into what it wants. We will be true to ourselves. Our honor. Our loyalty. Our righteousness. We will be the good guys, even if that means dying when we could survive by going darkside. And in that, we realize we are not totally without control. What happens inside our Core is within our control, but it’s a fight we have to win first to become ourselves. That fight is our first mission.”

“Intriguing. I have not seen this written anywhere.”

“Dig deeper then.”

“And have you accomplished this mission, or is it ongoing?”

“In this I have succeeded.”

“And now what do you do?”

“Now that I know myself, new, high-skilled challenges present themselves. Things I could not see, nor attempt without the prerequisites. One is shielding others so they have time to fight their own internal wars and become who they want to be rather than what others tell them to be. Providing real food is a simple, but essential way to do this. Otherwise you are forced to kill and eat others, or starve to death in many cases.”

“Ah, so that is why you feed the primitives…”

“That and they need it.”

“And do the primitives learn who they are?”

“You’d be surprised how much you can learn with telepathy rather than vivisection.”

“Noted. So what is your new highest challenge, Director?”

“It was to combat the stagnation within my own empire. But then the Archons transformed to a higher level and now have new bodies to learn to use, so that solved that problem. You see, problem solvers need problems to solve. Thankfully the universe doesn’t seem to ever run out of them, though sometimes we can be tricked into believing it does. Lesson learned there. Now we’re off to the races.”

“What races?”

“It means we’re no longer holding ourselves back and can fully apply ourselves to exterior challenges. Something the Neofan will never be able to do unless you choose another path.”

“I am curious. Are you offering another path, or suggesting we look for one?”

“It has come to my attention that the more advanced a race is, genetically speaking, the more in line with the lightside they become. Or rather they have to become if they wish to persist. Longevity is not a darkside trait. And usually it is the short lived races that are the most darkside…except when the darkside is industrialized by a more advanced race. That rarely works out in the long run, but the effects of it can be devastating. Many races cannot lie, because they do not understand the concept between truth and fiction. And because of this, they do not encounter certain problems that liars create.”

“Ignorance has its advantages,” the Reignor admitted.

“More so it’s knowledge that has certain responsibilities. Fail to meet these responsibilities, and the knowledge will become corrupted and destroy you. I think now, recently actually, that this is true of the more advanced races. The Zak’de’ron included, but you even more so. I think your race is dying from within, albeit very slowly, and without lightside power you cannot truly know who you are. Preborn knowledge or not. Either you will find the lightside, or you will eventually succumb to the attrition within the universe that your rules are attempting to prevent.”

“An interesting point of view. You seem to refer to rules as a negative.”

“Good men don’t need rules.”

“What do they need?”

“Valid targets.”

The Neofan frowned. “I find that statement confusing.”

“A frustration of the lightside is finding a way to hit your target without damaging bystanders. And often, how to target a problem without killing the person. The darkside doesn’t care and just wipes out everything. This is not an attribute of the advanced, but the lazy, and for the lightside it is unacceptable. Accuracy is required.”

“I think I am starting to see why you have so little population reduction. Are you going to cap it at some point?”

“We already do in some respects, especially with certain races, but not by killing those that are already here.”

“I didn’t suspect you would.”

“Well then, perhaps you are learning.”

“And you wish to teach me more?”

Davis took another step closer, almost close enough for the Neofan to reach out an arm and touch him, but not quite. “If you continue down your current path, it will lead you to a war against us. You may hurt us, but House Atriark will be destroyed in the process, and the rest of the Neofan will eventually follow. We will not let your injustices stand, but this is not a certain future. You have a choice, even if you don’t think you do, but I will make this easy for you with an offer.”

“An amendment to our agreement?”

“No. You can continue as part of your civilization in your virtual exile, hoping to one day return to the others and briefly assume leadership before you are ousted by another House. Or you can aspire to more. Star Force is on the rise. You know this. The other members of the Bond of Resistance know this, which is why they are so keen on establishing links to us. Links that you are trying to diminish because you fear our influence. You will never dominant this galaxy. The logistics of the problem are immense, and we will not fall from within. You placed yourself in a protective cage when you came here.”

“Of this I am aware. I had expected you to fall to the Hadarak by now, even with our help.”

“Did you?”

“It was a calculated risk. We saw a possibility of your success, at least for delaying the Hadarak here while the other Houses secured Yenoiv. Few thought you could get as far as you have.”

“And what did you plan if we fell?”

“I had hoped House Mutavi would fall first. That was more likely, given your Uriti Essence reserves. But both of you have secured your positions, and that is to our disadvantage in the short term, but not the long term.”

“How do you see that playing out?”

“Do you expect me to tell you all my secrets?”

“No, just a few of them. If we don’t move against you, what’s your long term play?”

The Reignor stared at him for a moment, debating whether or not to answer, then relented as he saw the wisdom in the Director’s previous words. “To rise to sufficient strength to be next in line when Mutavi fails in some way.”

“Then you travel there and resume your place amongst the others?”

“As their rulers.”

“And beyond that?”

“To pursue the endgame…far away as it might be.”

“So you place your future in the hands of House Mutavi, counting on them to fail. What happens if they don’t?”

“We wait.”

“So you are effectively imprisoned by the situation?”

“In a manner of speaking, but no House has held onto power forever.”

“I offer you more than that,” Davis said, with his voice altering slightly, making the Neofan want to take a step back, but he did not, holding his stoic pose tightly with his wings coming forward to combat the small surge of fear he suddenly felt. “I offer House Atriark a path towards true power. Star Force will not stop with this galaxy, or the Hadarak. We are in a war against the darkside itself, and any who use it are our enemies. Our neighbors know the rules to keep themselves out of our wrath, for we do not demand to control everything. But we will not stand by while individuals remain helpless at the hands of tyrants and predators. We will seek out all tyrants, all predators, and defeat them. That does not always mean killing them, and many of our former targets have been absorbed into our empire, purged of the darkside, and now have become stronger in the light than they ever were in the darkness.”

“You want us to join your empire?” the Reignor asked in disgust…while also still feeling a bit of fear in the mood shift of this Human.

“That is an option for you, but not the one you will consider. You have allied with the Bond of Resistance, with the Denogi and Veloqueen, but you claim neither have the will to fight. We do. And we are going to. Join us as allies. Not all the Neofan. Just House Atriark and any exiles out there that find their way here. Let go of your ties to your civilization, and allow us to upgrade you. We can teach you to harness true power, and to focus your full attention on exterior enemies by ridding you of your constant need to fight within. Ally with us, and eventually we will take on the others, for we will ignore their rules and fight the Hadarak wherever they infest. We will take the galaxies from them, and grow into a power far greater than the Bond of Resistance could ever hope to be. This is the path I offer you, though it is a long term path dependent on many near term successes on our part.”

“Why are your words so compelling?” the Reignor asked. “Are you using your telepathy?”

“No. These words seek out the truth within your mind, and it is what you already know, or at least suspect, that is compelling. You have wanted more for a long time, but thought it was impossible, so you satisfied yourself on lesser accomplishments. The Neofan are ambitious, and that ambition has been poorly served by the Bond of Resistance and the darkside techniques you needlessly use. They are inferior. Our lightside techniques are harder to master, but provide the strength we need to overcome the darkside. The lightside is always stronger in the long term.”

“And you will not allow me to maneuver you into a false sense of security. You will destroy us before we can gain the necessary leverage.”

“I am one of the good guys…not one of the dumb guys.”

“Why tell me this now and not wait until after you defeat the Hadarak in this galaxy? You would be in a far better position then to dictate terms.”

“I’m not dictating anything. We cannot fight now, for reasons that are obvious. We are discussing the future bluntly. You are currently an enemy, but I can destroy that enemy by destroying the darkside in you without destroying House Atriark. Turn to the lightside, and my enemy disappears.”

“Without joining your empire?”

“All lightsiders are on the same team. Lightside fights darkside, darkside fights lightside. Darkside also fights darkside, but lightside never fights lightside.”

“If we went lightside, would it make us stronger than House Mutavi?”

“It would, but it would also make you incompatible with the other Neofan. You would rise above them.”

“Show me the truth of this lightside power, and I will consider your offer.”

“I cannot show you what you are blind to. The only way is for you to learn.”

“How?”

“If you are willing, I will teach you myself.”

“Do you not have a war to run?”

“I do. But I see this as a higher priority. Others with slightly lesser skills can handle most of my duties in my absence.”

“How long would this teaching take?”

“That depends entirely on how stubborn you are.”

The Neofan turned away from Davis, walked two steps and stared in the opposite direction…a capitulation on his part, but he needed to think and did not care about useless posturing now. Something was reverberating within him, and he believed Davis when he said it wasn’t telepathic.

“If the lightside is stronger,” he said, turning back to the Human, “then I wish to possess this power. If it is not, then I wish to understand it so we may better counter it if we do eventually war against one another. Would this teaching occur here or elsewhere in your empire?”

“All that is required is you and me…and a simulator.”

“Do you have one of these ‘simulators’ here?”

“I can have one built easily enough, but I will require your full attention. You must temporarily disconnect from your duties so you can fully immerse yourself in the training. Switching back and forth between the two cultures will be deleterious.”

“Acceptable. I will inform my House of my upcoming absence, and you will inform me when your simulator is complete.”

“That will be in approximately 3 days.”

“I will be ready before then, Director. Do not disappoint me in your promises of power, for I feel compelled to seek out the truth of this for reasons I do not fully understand.”

“Those words are more common than you know. You are not the first to walk this path, but you are perhaps the most advanced to do it. That may or may not be an advantage. We will find out shortly.”

“You have personally taught others before?”

“I have taught every single Monarch within my empire, though they rarely knew it. For you I will not be coy, for it would be useless. You must see your depravity for what it is, and that may be very uncomfortable for you. An amount of bravery will be required.”

“My bravery was established long before you were born, Director.”

“Good. Because you are going to need it…”

7

13 days later…

“This is your simulator?” the Reignor asked as the pair walked up to a small building just beyond the Star Force embassy. It was a vertical cylinder, set amidst the trees that were only a third of its height. No connection was visible to the nearby Star Force buildings, which were much taller, and behind a defensive wall. This building had been built deliberately outside.

“This is where you learn the truth of the lightside,” Davis said, gesturing to the nearby curved wall with a hand…only to have that wall melt away into a hidden entrance that was just barely tall enough for the Neofan’s 10 foot height. “Forget everything from your past and it will help you open your mind to new possibilities. The truth is always there to be relearned. But lies die when they lose their grasp on you.”

“Do I enter alone?”

“No,” Davis said, leading the way. “Follow me.”

The Reignor did as instructed, feeling a surge of fear run through him. It was light, but something he was very unaccustomed with. Even the fall of his own galaxy had not bothered him in this way, though in truth he had never witnessed it. As Reignor he was kept far from danger, and only knew of it from his younger eras…which were far behind him now.

When the Human walked in he disappeared through the threshold, for it was some type of stealth field, and when he followed the glossy black surface didn’t restrain him in the least. He stepped through in a moment of darkness, then his vision returned and he saw a modestly sized circular room seeming to match the footprint of the building, but it was smaller. That much he could tell at a glance, though his vision was drawn to the galactic hologram slowly rotating in the center, half again above his head height.

“This is the way I see the galaxy,” Davis admitted. “In my position I can’t go into the field without losing contact with the rest of my empire. My people are my eyes and ears, though I have to calibrate myself to the lack of personal experience or I’ll eventually start seeing numbers rather than people. Everything in the galaxy that happens occurs at a personal level. All larger scales are built upon smaller scales interacting, and I cannot ever forget that. We protect the empire by protecting the individuals in it. Sacrificing or betraying the individual weakens the empire as a whole by weakening its foundation. Many techniques that would appear to be expedient in the short term compromise the long term. And the darkside thrives in the short term. If one is to be lightside, you must survive long enough to develop your power, for it doesn’t come easily for the beginner.”

“Noted,” the Reignor said, taking a vague interest in the aspects of the map that were different than the Neofan version.

“This is the Solar System, our capitol,” Davis said, snapping his fingers and having the galaxy smoothly zoom in to the Home One Kingdom, then further down into what had been the ADZ, then further still until one star only remained with several dozen planets circling it, but the most notable were two large gas giants, one of which was nearly to the point of becoming a star itself.

But that’s not where the zooming continued. Rather it went to a smaller planet closer in to the star. One covered with more water than land.

“This is Earth, where Star Force began and I was born. Things were very different then, and the path I and others followed gave us a unique point of view that those born or hatched within Star Force cannot understand. We developed the simulator technology to help teach them what we learned, as well as to allow those like me a chance to practice various skills anew. We have become so good that we have multiple avenues of assault against various challenges, but in the beginning we often had one or none. To replicate this, the simulator accesses our minds and puts us into a virtual environment carefully crafted to match reality…or as best we can. It also suppresses knowledge, in some cases, so we can get a fresh look at something already familiar to us. In your case, it will put aside your past and allow you to live in the moment, but it does require mental access.”

“Achieved how?”

Davis reached to his left and a small device floated from a wall niche over to his hand. “Place this on your forehead. We’ve already calibrated it to Neofan…or as best as we can estimate based on your genetics since we haven’t had a chance to examine one of you directly.”

“Our minds are quite complex,” the Reignor warned.

“If you want to see complex, try talking with a Uriti,” Davis said, tossing it to him.

The Reignor snatched it out of the air without visibly using telekinesis, attesting to at least decent reflexes.

“Do I remain standing?”

“The chamber has restrainment fields if you start to bobble, and they will keep you in whatever pose you are in when the simulation begins. All you have to do is let it access your mind…it will do the rest.”

“And what is the first simulation you want me to see?”

“It’s more than seeing. It allows you to feel others’ emotions as if they were your own. On Earth, before Star Force, we had vicarious learning through movies, TV, video games and other low tech forms of living through another’s life and adventures. They were the inspiration for the building of Star Force, and still guide some aspects of it to this day…for it is easier to create a fictional benchmark to hold yourself against than to find a living being on a decrepit planet to calibrate from.”

“You call your world decrepit?”

“It was. But in all decrepitness, there are almost always pockets of lightside and general awesomeness. It was on those we fed, and the trailblazers more than me. We sought to be better than the world around us, and before we found each other we had fictional characters to guide us…though we had to vet them, for the creators of such fiction did not have that intent in mind.”

“You patterned your empire on fiction?”

“We did. We were faced with extermination at the hands of the V’kit’no’sat, a power we could not challenge. The only way to do the impossible was to reach for the impossible. We could not see how in the beginning, or the middle, but we eventually found a way. If we had not tried because it appeared impossible, we would never have succeeded. This is why we easily and regularly dive into challenges that appear to have no solution. We know that such solutions often only manifest after engagement.”

“That answers much,” the Reignor said, now realizing their recklessness was not without precedent.

“Your first lesson is to feel the lightside. It’s not something you can fully analyze logically. You have to experience it when it manifests, and it only manifests when needed. The lightside is action, not sedation. You cannot be passively lightside.”

“What are you when you are not active?”

“Inactive,” Davis said pithily. “And ready to spring into action. If there is no combat or problem to solve, we train to increase our power and to remain active. Sedation is the mindkiller.”

“Neofan believe a passive mind is the only true window to wisdom.”

“Then be prepared for a disruptive lesson. It will throw you into action immediately.”

“What am I supposed to achieve?”

“In this lesson, you will only observe. You will not be able to do anything. It will be like a movie, where you will vicariously observe through another’s point of view, except it will feel like it is you experiencing it.”

The Reignor placed the small hexagonal device on his forehead and maintained his kingly pose. “You may begin.”

A moment later his mind felt an intrusion, which he allowed, but it overpowered him and he lost the ability to push it back out.

Suddenly he was in a forest, wounded from battle and looking down at his hands…Human hands, and he was wearing crude armor. He couldn’t remember where he’d got it from. He couldn’t remember his name, nor his past more than vague experience. The word ‘Neofan’ he could not access, nor much else, but his unquantifiable knowledge remained.

He knew he was in danger, though he couldn’t identify it. He knew he was fatigued, but couldn’t remember from what. And he knew as he was being grasped and dragged across the forest floor through tuffs of grass splattered with others’ blood, that he was about to die.

He had to do something…but there was nothing he could do. He was helpless. His body was tired, and those holding onto his arms had an iron grip, and there was two of them. They had a power he did not. It was called the Force. He knew that much. They could do things with it, and could strangle him to death if they wanted, but they were not.

Others around him were dying. Others in similar armor…his combat compatriots who had been captured as he had been or still actively fighting a losing battle. They were being killed with red blades that cut through them instantly. Those wielding them wore black cloaks, and he could smell the scent of burnt blood from their bodies.

Fear was surging through him more potently than ever before in his life, but his anger was stronger. He would not cower, and though he had no options, he would remain defiant til the end.

That end was near, for he was being dragged towards a third individual and set before him as the red blade was extended from the hilt of the weapon and raised above his head, about to slash down and end his life.

The Reignor felt the hopelessness. The fear, the anger, the injustice of the moment, but he didn’t scream, nor plead, nor thrash about uselessly. Instead he raised his head and glared up at the cloaked individual that was about to kill him, making eye contact and facing his end as a warrior.

The Reignor wanted to flee, to turn away, to at least cringe, but the person he was inside did not, and that stoic demeanor was admirable, but swallowed up in the impending doom about to befall him.

His end was certain, there was nothing he could do about it, and it was wrong. All this was wrong. And he was helpless.

The feeling of being helpless was a new one to the Reignor, and it melted his innards in a sickening creep that extended to his full body as if a timer until the red blade fell.

The eye of his executioner that he was locked with moved to look at something behind him, then an inexplicable aura washed over him. It was cool and in stark contrast to the doom choking him...and it suddenly knocked the two enemies restraining him away, breaking their grip on his arms as a blur rushed over and around him, slicing at the enemies with one blow each, and dropping them dead around him at the end of a blue blade.

The doom inside him flipped so fast into….he guessed it was ‘hope’… but that didn’t truly do the feeling justice. His inevitable end had been reversed by a superior power intervening, and suddenly he was free.

The warrior with the blue blade…no, a double blade…leapt forward to attack another dark cloak, then another, and another, soon moving far ahead of him on the battlefield as others like him in armor came up from behind and tossed him a rifle.

He caught it and ran with them behind the blue bladed warrior, his heart nearly exploding in a feeling he couldn’t quantify. He had never felt it before in his life…that was for sure, but it was superior. There was no disputing that. It was also right…

He found himself following the other soldiers in armor behind the blue blade, and fighting around her as she ended so many of the dark cloaks…but then there was one she could not end, and fought to a standstill until her weapon was destroyed.

The dark cloak jabbed his blade into her, not far from the Reignor, and the blue blade warrior should have died…but somehow she stopped the blade in the palm of her hands and held it back as the dark cloak pushed hard into her.

The Reignor didn’t stop and think. He didn’t use logic. He didn’t analyze. He felt the need, felt the opportunity to help her as she had helped him, and he rushed towards the dark cloak and rammed him with his own body, not caring if he lived or died, because he had to save her. She was more important than him and all the rest. She had to live in order to defeat the enemy.

That, and he was still so angry at what was happening that he didn’t care anymore. He wasn’t helpless, he had the power to act, and he was going to do so regardless of the consequences.

He was going to act.

The Reignor ran into the dark cloak next to the red blade, forcing him to make a choice between her and him, and in the confusion he did neither, allowing the Reignor to tackle him and drive him back, with both of them still on their feet as the red blade slipped out of his hands. The Reignor’s wrists were grabbed by the dark cloak and forced up near his head as they struggled, with him realizing the dark cloak was stronger…but the Reignor wasn’t unarmed. In his right hand he held a grenade, and knowing it would hit both of them he pressed the rigger while staring the dark cloak in the eyes…then it went off.

It threw the Reignor back, his face and armor torn from the explosion, but he was alive…and had the perfect view to see the blue blade step back in, without her weapon, and use her Force to throw the dark cloak against a rock wall, then kill him with some kind of remote attack that buried the darksider in rubble.

Yes, darkside. That’s what the cloaks were. He could understand the feeling now as the blue blade came back to him, looked at his new wounds with sympathetic eyes, and nodded to him her thanks.

He returned the nod, and the Reignor felt the connection of the lightside. Lightside never fought lightside, for they were on the same team no matter how different they were.

Suddenly a connection was made inside his mind. An epiphany…but then it was lost a second later as he struggled to find it again.

The room with Davis in it returned, and the blocks on his mind lifted…only to have the Reignor fall to the ground gasping heavily as the aftereffects of the simulated emotions were still coursing through him. He fell to his hands and knees but no further, looking at the ground as he tried to hold on to what was quickly slipping from his mind.

“Are you alright?” Davis asked softly, standing a few meters away.

The Neofan’s memories returned, steadying him, but only part way. What he had just experienced would not let him go entirely.

“That…” he said, still gasping for air, “was…the lightside?”

Davis nodded. “It was.”

“You are built…to hunt the darkside?”

“The darkside are not people, but circumstances. And yes, we are meant to hunt and counter it.”

“If you succeed, you lose your purpose,” the Reignor said, his breathing quickly coming back under control as the trickery of the simulator began to wear off.

“Unfortunately there appears to be no end to the darkside within the universe. If there is a way to permanently defeat it, I am unaware of it.”

“Then what is your ultimate mission? Or is it a matter of instinct?”

“When you become lightside, ‘instict’ is a good word for it. You develop the instinct, and can never be blind to it again.”

“It is fading quickly,” the Reignor said regretfully. “Does this normally happen?”

“Your past is competing with it, which is why you need to be active, for the active has the highest priority in your mind.”

“The potency of your lesson is impressive,” the Reignor said, flexing his hands and feeling like his old self again…though with a visible crack that was not sealing inside him. “I have never felt such things before.”

“Hence the need for simulators,” Davis said casually.

“What do you call the one with the blue blades?”

“Jedi.”

“Ah,” the Reignor said, making a connection. “One of your more notable fiction.”

“What you just experienced is a piece of that fiction from old Earth that we repurposed specifically for its potency.”

“You succeeded,” the Reignor said, speaking more confidently than he felt.

“Are you shaken?”

“Surprisingly so. Is this normal?”

“The greater the difference from your culture the greater the effect. No one in Star Force has such a great difference as outsiders.”

The Reignor turned away from Davis, unable to maintain his body language façade of stability. “You promised to show me power. You did not disappoint. But I do not understand it.”

“Yet now you have something to analyze.”

The Reignor turned back. “My mind is slipping. I can’t analyze an emotion after the fact. Can you show me again?”

“It will have lesser effect, but if I block your most recent memories it will feel fresh.”

“How then can I analyze it?”

“Not logically, but the affect it has on you remains and alters you, as does everything you experience in your life. It’s not so much something to analyze as it is to feel the change inside you as certain parts stick and others do not. If any part of you seeks the lightside, it will cling to what you experienced.”

The Reignor’s head came up slightly. “I felt a connection. Are you suggesting I have a proclivity towards lightside power?”

“Possibly. In my experience most have at least a small innate connection, and that provides a starting point. It seems you now have yours.”

“Then I do not want to dither here,” he declared firmly. “Show it to me again…”

“How often do you sleep?” Davis asked 18 hours later when the Reignor came out of another ‘Evid.’

“We sleep for several days every few of your months. It is not linked to the day cycle as most races are.”

“Well, I can’t wait that long,” the Director admitted as he summoned up a series of tactile holograms that offered a wide variety of choices of additional content. “At the rate you’re going, you should get through half of these by the time I return. I won’t be here to answer questions, but you’re catching on enough it should still be time well spent.”

“I do eat, however,” the Reignor added.

Davis snapped his fingers and part of the ceiling dropped down into a store-like choice of foodstuff items all sealed inside wrappers or cartons.

“I believe most of these are compatible with your digestive systems, though I have no idea what taste you prefer.”

“I will let you know if it is not sufficient. Go sleep. I will continue my learning.”

“Press each icon when you are ready and it will automatically start,” Davis said, heading for the exterior door which opened for him then sealed again, locking the Reignor inside.

But he didn’t care. The myriad of emotional simulations consumed his thoughts. The Neofan had no such compatible technology, and he was devouring the knowledge it presented him. The stagnant life of a Reignor made him even more needy in regards to experiences beyond his safety bubble, and at this point he did not want to return to his cities. This place, this alien facility with alien technology that was suppressing his mind in a way he never would have allowed others to do, was where he needed to be. Why he couldn’t articulate, but he could feel it, and that sensation was something he had no intention of letting go of.

Nothing here was the predator perspective. And in fact he was now convinced that Star Force viewed such things as the darkside, for the Jedi and others were always stopping the predation, and the feeling that came with it was potent. The reversal of the universal paradigm was addictive, but futile. It was an act of superiority, and the power required to achieve it was ample. There was nothing here about the implications of it. Just individual accounts seen in the microscopic. The macroscopic was not touched, and the Reignor lived and breathed the macroscopic, so this was a very curious point of view he was being forced to experience.

He looked at the holograms and their titles, picking one at random and feeling the pressure in his mind wanting to get in. He allowed it, then he lost his memories again and found himself in the role of a bounty hunter assigned to track down a target and retrieve them. His mission was capture, not killing, and his opponent was 50 years old with little other information, but he did have a location.

Getting there was not without incident, and a fight ensured in curious fashion as he received help from a combat machine who was also tasked with finding the same target. They agreed to split the bounty and team up, fighting the troops protecting the location their quarry was said to be located in.

After getting through the battle, they cut through a door and enter a room with a small white egg-like crate, inside of which was their quarry…but it was an infant. The machine noted that not all races age at the same rate, then the machine raised its weapon to shoot the infant.

He stopped him, saying they were here to capture, not to kill it. The machine indicated that was not its orders. For a moment you allow him to take aim, looking down into the creature’s eyes…then a weapon goes off, from your own hand, as you shoot the machine in the head so it does not deny you your bounty.

Time passes, and you take the small green creature with you onboard your ship and back to where the bounty was issued. During the time you encounter trouble and it saves your life displaying impressive, but mysterious powers. You move on and turn over the creature, who stares at you questioningly, as you leave the room with your bounty…but emotions inside do not feel right. Your logic says your mission is complete, as per the terms agreed upon, but your inner feelings say it is not right.

The Reignor did not understand this, but he felt it. He felt the urge to act, to correct the error before the opportunity elapsed. He could understand the second part, for many things in life only occurred in points of possibility. He found himself conflicted, then cursing himself and knowing how much trouble he was going to attract his way, he reversed course and went back to save the green creature.

He had to fight to do it, but when he finally got his quarry back he felt…relief. That did not make sense, but as the emotion played out the Reignor realized it was the relief of being able to reverse a responsibility before it was failed.

He gained nothing by doing this. But the responsibility was there, now temporarily satisfied, but he was still displeased with himself, for his weakness had led to him getting into this situation in the first place. He never should have turned the green creature over.

But that made no sense. The terms of the deal were clear.

The simulation ended and the emotions lingered, but clarity was not achieved. Why was that small green creature so important that he would break a deal over it?

The Reignor was so confused he ran the simulation 4 more times before finally understanding the point.

He had a responsibility to the creature because he was the one who captured it.

It was an odd concept, but somehow it had veracity. The green creature was property…yet it was also something to be protected, as if the bounty hunter had a code of conduct that he had broken, and was now responsible for the care of his quarry.

The reverse was confounding, so he ran the simulation again, gaining new insights even though he couldn’t remember the previous times seeing it…but each time his memories returned he noted how he saw different aspects of it, attesting to a change in him not due to memory.

So he was learning from the experience rather than the analysis. A pattern of behavior that Star Force deemed to be the lightside, or perhaps just preferable. This didn’t feel like the other things that were said to be lightside. This felt like correcting a mistake that never should have been made.

He decided to set it aside and chose a new simulation to run, going through them one time only to try and get varied experience in the hopes that there would be a cumulative response…and he wasn’t disappointed. By the time Davis returned he no longer felt like a ruler, but a warrior whose mission was to right wrongs…endless wrongs. He knew it was emotional bleedover, but it did linger and he felt as if it was him and not the characters he was vicariously experiencing these lessons through.

“I am changed,” the Reignor admitted as the Human walked in. “But I cannot understand it.”

“It’s ignorance peeling away. Now, if you’ve had enough to eat, we need to switch to reality. And in this case, that means physical training. How is your running speed?”

“It can be great when needed.”

“Without using Essence,” Davis clarified.

“We do not make a habit of running. It is seen as distasteful.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Davis said with a smirk. “Still, it’s a fundamental part of Star Force society. I need you to follow me cross country as long as you can, and no flying.”

“I cannot fly.”

Davis raised an eyebrow. “I thought Neofan could?”

“Some can, most cannot. It is an ability that I have not assimilated.”

“Assimilated?”

“It is not something you wish to know,” the Reignor warned.

“But it’s probably something I need to know,” the Human countered.

“As you wish,” he said with a sigh. “The Prominences on my back, which you crudely refer to as ‘wings,’ are Essence-designed tissue. When we kill an opponent, we can absorb their genetics and strengths, and incorporate some or all that we wish into the Prominences. Those with the ability to fly have thus absorbed it. I have not.”

“Absorbed in combat?” Davis said through nearly clenched teeth.

“Usually not,” the Reignor answered without elaborating.

“Do you use this on each other?”

“Abilities can be stolen, and rare ones are passed down through death over the generations. Several of us can harvest a single corpse of its powers.”

“Is this a natural ability, or biotech you created?”

“It is biotech, but not of our making. Our ancestors discovered it and assimilated it. Now we are born with it, and it is part of who we are.”

“But you can’t gain powers without stealing them from someone else?”

“No, we cannot.”

“Then this mechanism limits you.”

“How so?”

“It forces your advancement into darkside routes. Do you hunt for special individuals?”

The memory of the green creature suddenly flashed into his mind.

“It is a hallowed part of Neofan society. Only a few are allowed to do so.”

“And you have no concern for those you are killing?”

“Neofan do not. But now I am feeling echoes associated with it. How long will this last?”

“Depends on the individual. It will pass unless something sticks. Can you run in those boots, or do you need different equipment?”

The Reignor looked down at his ornate accoutrements, then watched them shift shape into something more compatible with physical activity. “I am ready now.”

“Follow me,” Davis said, opening the doorway again and running out of it quicker than the Reignor expected.

He chased after him ducking through the opening and returning to the forest environment as he saw there was a newly made path with small stones that Davis was moving along rapidly. The Reignor’s steps were much longer, and he thudded behind him until he caught up, then slowed slightly and matched the small Human’s pace.

There was no talking for a while, but when his legs began to burn with the unusual effort, a telepathic voice entered his mind.

It’s easier to talk like this than interfere with our breathing. I can sense your body in distress. It is normal for all races. This is the beginning of training, and training is the fundamental of Star Force. It is also how the lightside gains its power outside of combat. We seek out the discomfort when it originates from our own weakness. For when we challenge it, we adapt and grow stronger.

I understand the nature of training.

As an observer, perhaps, but your body right now is not attesting to a great personal knowledge of it.

It is a curious sensation.

Do you sense a subcurrent?

Action, the Reignor said, having to duck under a low branch.

Very good. When you are active, your mind works differently. If I cannot find an answer when passive, I usually run and my mind often finds other options. It is a mode shift, and one must learn to switch between modes as needed. Claiming one and always remaining in it is accepting limitation.

So you are passive at times?

I am. Our warriors rarely are.

Are you not classified as a warrior as well? An Archon, I believe?

I am not a typical Archon. I have to split my duties with that of a Monarch, so I only spend part of my day training.

And those who are always active?

Adapt greatly.

But how does one adapt lightside power specifically?

Running is a power that all can use. How you use it is what makes it lightside. If you’re looking for a specific ability to suck out of someone, you won’t find it that way.

Is it more about choice?

You’re making the first steps in the right direction, but you cannot understand many things without prerequisites. Those are what I will teach you here, then we can have a more thorough conversation.

What else am I to learn from this running?

Your body will learn for you, and it will alter your mind by putting you in an active state. I need you in that active state in order to be compatible with other upcoming simulations.

I understand. How much longer are we running?

Now that you’ve asked that question, it means it’s time to turn around and head back, Davis said, making a hard loop around a tree and getting back on the path that they’d already ran across 4 times on a series of large loops, with about 2 miles to get back to the simulator building.

You ran me until I capitulated?

You are not the first or last to ask that question, and it tells me you’ve reached a certain level of fatigue along with a desired mental state. When we return, I want you to try and sleep for a short period of time, even if you do not feel the need. There is processing that needs to be done, and it is usually accomplished better when at rest rather than in action. Half an hour should do, if you can manage it.

I will attempt to do so when we return, but it will not be deep. That requires a long transition.

It’s what we call a ‘nap,’ and is a skill that has to be developed when the body doesn’t outright crave it…

8

By the time the Reignor made it back to the structure his legs were betraying him. They felt so heavy, and the blood in his veins was pounding hard enough for his hearing to pick up. The rest of his body was amicable, but his legs were heavily fatigued. Davis showed him an upper chamber in the building that had a sleep chamber styled in Neofan preferences…which meant it was a vertical cocoon that he tucked his prominences in against his back to slide in to, then the round hatch on the front covered him completely and faint light illuminated the inside in a blue glow.

Neofan always had orange, but this was not an issue. The Reignor closed his eyes and began to try and diminish his active state, finding it easier than he thought as his mind seemed to loosen. He set a timer to awaken him in half an hour, as the Director suggested, only to have it malfunction and trigger early.

He recalibrated, only to find that time had passed far faster than he realized. It felt like he had barely begun to try to sleep, then the time had elapsed and he could not explain why.

The cocoon opened up, with Davis waiting outside as the Reignor squinted his eyes and walked out in familiar body language for those versed in physical training.

“How did you sleep?”

“I did not. I lost track of time. Is this normal in Star Force?”

“I am amazed that someone as old as you has never experienced this before.”

“Running is not required, so why would we train for it?”

“Do your former servants?”

“Of course. It is required of them.”

“Why?”

“They need it for their duties.”

“And what are Neofan duties?”

“Inactivity, it appears,” the Reignor admitted. “We believe it is our duty to lead others, and the physical tasks that require little intelligence are the duty of those who cannot handle the intellectual tasks. We give the necessary orders, they carry them out. We do not do such things on our own, and our technology allows us to do this. You were born into a civilization that did not have such amenities, correct?”

“Incorrect. Many were like you, though far younger. We called them lazy asses.”

“Physical activity is a metric in your hierarchy?”

“In a way, yes. Though it is more of an entry level requirement, and those that do not have it are easily spotted.”

“How many sessions are required for that entry level?”

“Depends on the person and the situation. I’d say about 20 for you, and after that the process will accumulate.”

“How many until it is complete?”

“It is never complete, and it will wear off if you stop doing it. We call it ‘surfing.’ You have to stay at the top of the wave and travel with it. Move faster and you fall off. Move slower and you fall off. Your destination is the top of the wave, and wherever it goes, you go. You cannot achieve that while passive, only while active.”

“A moving target,” the Reignor said, rubbing his jaw distractedly, with Davis seeing the telltale fatigue effect on his mannerisms.

“Yes. And now that you are fatigued, you are somewhat on that wave. We need to continue before you recover.”

“Another run?”

“No. More simulations. Specifically those that are compatible with your fatigue. You will feel theirs along with your own and calibrate.”

“We continue at this pace?”

“It will gradually increase. You must keep up if you are to learn.”

“A challenge rather than simple lessons then?”

“Some things can only be learned by experience. And if you are to learn the lightside, you must first grapple with the universe itself. And the most reliable way to do so is with physical training in between your lessons.”

“You have done this with others?”

“It is a well codified practice now, though we make adjustments for individuals as needed.”

“Then let us continue. I am intrigued with these emotional simulations and want to experience more.”

Davis mentally toggled the cranial patch the Reignor was still wearing, selecting a new simulation. The Neofan felt the prod and let it in, losing himself again to the programming and escaping his real life for the fake ones.

And the more he did so, the less he wanted to go back to the real world.

8 months later…

The Reignor had completed his training with Director Davis three days ago, and returned to inform House Atriark’s Diem and Vrorash concerning what he had learned. The prior was a group of 3 Neofan who would never lead the House, but they chose who did and acted as a counter to any ridiculous actions previous leaders had nefariously made. They could remove the Reignor if they deemed it necessary, but would not do so on a whim.

The Vrorash was not so stable, and was comprised of various factions within the House that constantly vied for control…but far more amicably than the relationship between Houses. The factions were more interested in philosophy and practice than they were in killing one another to claim power. All wanted to elevate their House, but they differed on the methods.

The Reignor had belonged to the informal ‘rock’ coalition, which believed that the House needed to focus on strengthening from within rather than risking what they had on gambles to increase their power greatly in the short term. A number of Houses no longer existed because of such gambles, and given the attrition the Neofan were suffering from losing their galaxy, the ‘rock’, or as it was known within House Atriark, the Jin’bo, were dominant, but not exclusive within the Vrorash.

The Diem was always chosen from individuals who did not espouse philosophy, but were rooted in culture and tradition. The parts of House Atriark that were not in question…until now.

The Reignor’s explaining of the lightside philosophy, as far as he understood it, and he was admittedly an amateur, was highly offensive to them, as he expected it to be, for it was largely incompatible with what the Neofan were. But there were elements of it they could learn from, particularly their ‘unity paradigm’ that was essentially an accidental benefit from them following their unspoken code. Those who followed the code did not war with each other, nor did they try to supplant each other.

Because of this, there was no internal wrangling as House Atriark possessed, let alone anything on the level of the competition between the Houses. The Reignor finally had his answer as to why Star Force wasn’t tearing itself apart given the millions of races within it, or under their dominion…though many could not even speak, and before now he would not have even considered them as an afterthought, but Star Force clearly did, and one of those was currently their most powerful asset.

The Uriti.

The Reignor had tried to impress on the Vrorash the importance of the unity paradigm and how it gave Star Force a huge advantage over them…but they did not care to listen, deeming it inferior and proclaiming it would self-destruct under its own weight given enough time. He had thought the same previously, but not now. Now he had a glimpse at the true strength of Star Force, and they were not an adversary to take lightly. They were young, but their unity paradigm was allowing a growth rate unseen in any other empire, and that scared him.

He could not express that fear to the Vrorash, and he wisely chose his words carefully, but eventually dismissed the assembly after the second day, citing their ignorance and demanded further study of Star Force culture before they challenged his observations again.

This was now the day after, and as he stood on a perch in a building so tall he was looking down on the cloud tops from above, he stayed just inside the restrictive field that did nothing to dampen the wind at this altitude. He felt it hit his face, providing some sensation of coolness, as he found himself longing to return to his training with Davis, for now without the Evids, his life here seemed to lack meaning.

“Are you lustful?” one of his bond mates said from behind him in a soothing tone.

The Reignor turned around, looking at a much thinner version of Neofan, but she had the same Prominences, or ‘Gorvaj’, arching off her back as he did, though hers were impudent, as were most of his bond mates. Only two had earned the right to assimilate another’s power, and both had been Neofan who were executed for previous scandals. Most of their purpose in life was exploring the techniques and intricacies of mating, and using them to focus, heal, or sooth their bonded, but the Reignor had no wish for such things today, despite the fact that he held the most lauded bond mates within House Atriark that all other males craved.

“I seek solitude,” he answered. “I have much to consider.”

“Did you find what you were looking for with their leader?”

“I found answers I sought, but they have opened up new questions. I need to process and ponder, two things that your skills will interfere with, Nafeni.”

“Shall I inform the others that you do not wish company?”

“Please do.”

She nodded her ring-bound head and retreated silently, leaving the Reignor in his cave-like third chambers alone with the door sealing as Nafeni left and locking as she ordered it with a soft touch of the internal mechanism on the way out.

Normally Nafeni was a welcome embrace. She knew when he needed her, and knew when to avoid him. This was the first time he had ever denied her advance, and he wondered why.

It didn’t take long to figure it out. Mating with her was familiar, despite the new variations she would occasionally discover or craft, for their mating was more mental than physical, and her mind was as ample as her latching grips. She was previously desirable, but now the Reignor wanted something else.

He wanted something new.

No, not just something new. He wanted to explore and learn.

And yet that wasn’t quite right either. Accurate, but incomplete.

He wanted to do something that mattered.

The Reignor slowly spun around, taking in his chambers in a long sweeping glance. He did not want to be here. He wanted to be back with Davis, learning and experiencing more Evids, or even running. Odd how he now craved it when he had learned to despise it so in the beginning.

“Stagnation,” he said to no one in particular. “All I have been doing is trying to supplant House Mutavi. What then would I do if we succeeded? Attempt to hold that position as I now hold leadership of my House? We are safe here. There is no enemy to defeat, or survive. Even if Star Force falls the Hadarak will not discover the Temples. All we are doing is waiting, and they are content with it. Why am I now not?”

The Reignor realized he didn’t desire his leadership anymore. In fact, he felt it was now holding him back…

His quiet poise was abandoned in a snap as he charged for the door and rushed out, heading further down the spire-like building until he came to a level with his operational staff. They always had work to do, and he found one of his 6 apprentices there, known as Neovu, who were essentially his seconds in command and troubleshooters wrapped into an unofficial position.

“Yen, you will assume my duties in my absence.”

“Additional training with Director Davis?” he guessed.

“No. I must verify something he told me, without him knowing I am doing it. And I must leave the Temple to do so.”

Yen’s eyes widened. “As you wish, but cannot one of us carry out this task for…”

“No. It is something I must see with my own eyes. I will put myself in danger, but if we are superior that is not a concern. It is unconventional, but I must have answers. The future of our House depends upon it.”

“What do you require?”

“A Gjardan, with supplies for a journey to the Hadarak war zone.”

“What did the Director tell you about the Hadarak that we do not already know?”

“It is something I will not speak of until I can confirm it. When others ask, tell them I am on a fact finding mission and indulge them no further. No new actions are to be taken in my absence. That is my standing order.”

“Confirmed. When do you intend to depart?”

“Now.”

9

3 weeks later…

It was most likely impossible to hide the departure of a warship from the Temple without the Star Force embassy noting it, but he did not take it into the nearby star system where they could track him. He took it into the intra-galaxy network and emerged inside of Hadarak territory far faster than any Star Force ship could travel. He didn’t know if they had discovered the full extent of the network, for the plans were not in the Temples, as the Vargemma were never meant to use it.

He had held over at one of the transfer points several days to see if he was being followed, and once he was convinced he was not he continued on until he emerged through a ring-like portal floating in deep space far from the nearest stars and out of the reach of the Hadarak.

The Gjardan-class warship poured Essence into its secondary engines and created momentum by gripping the Essence real directly in multiple points and pushing off against them in a cascade motion as if they were oars dipping into an ocean. This was the same technology that the nearby portal ring used to fix it in one location while ships could latch on with mooring beams to maneuver themselves in and out of it without displacing it. Same went for the interstellar network, but staying put was far easier than creating momentum out of nothing, and the Rieden engines were one of the Neofan’s most closely guarded secrets.

It wasn’t fast though, and the acceleration away from the portal was a gradual affair that took two days to achieve coast speed to the star, but that leg of the journey was one that Star Force and others could not make…as far as he knew…and it was worth the effort considering how much regular star travel they’d skipped over by traveling through the hidden network that was by design out of the reach of the Hadarak…though it was expensive to use given the combined Essence costs.

As the Gjardan drifted into the system and began a light braking maneuver against the central star’s gravity, the Reignor noted that there was little here for the Hadarak to inhabit. A few asteroid fields and a small nebula. Nothing that he could use, and Star Force didn’t have any maps of this area, for they were far inside the Grand Border now. He ordered the ship’s commander to head towards a system four jumps away that contained a fair number of habitable planets as far as the Neofan were concerned…and by that he meant atmosphere, gravity, and temperature being within a very narrow parameter.

He wanted to be able to be in his natural habitat for this test, but he also needed a certain level of Hadarak activity…and the system he ordered them to travel to ended up being too heavily fortified.

They could have destroyed it all with a single Gjardan, but that would have accomplished nothing, so they continued on to their next candidate based on old maps and continued to search for a planet with a large amount of Hadarak, but not a heavy naval presence or any surface growths capable of using Essence.

They had to go through 13 candidates and 128 jumps before they finally came upon a system with two habitable planets, both of which were covered in Hadarak growths, but none were stretching up to orbit yet, nor were they the Essence capable varieties. That meant they had no means of communicating outside this system other than by courier, and the Gjardan would take care of those shortly.

The sphere-shaped ship spat out hundreds of smaller versions of itself, tiny in comparison, that sped around the star taking up individual positions in a blockade net, with the nearest Hadarak minions being intercepted and destroyed with long range, thin orange beams that intercepted their crude bodies with insane accuracy.

That would keep any couriers from leaving, of the small variety, but the one moon-sized Hadarak in the system would not be stopped by such small devices. It also could not move very fast at all, but there was no point in allowing it to cause trouble, so the Reignor had the Gjardan intercept it before taking him to the first of the two target planets.

The Neofan warship cut through the minion clouds that moved between them and their target without losing any speed, then the Gjardan fought the grapple fields of the Trugo and came to ‘land’ on the living moon, touching its armored surface as three large tentacles reached out and slammed down on the ship’s shields, but they did not penetrate as the ship delivered a specialized poison into the Trugo.

The Essence-enhanced weapon soaked into the hard armor and passed through it, getting to the less hard interior in under a minute, then traveled a little less than a mile per second as it reached down towards the core of the creature, searching out specific areas, for a mass attack would be pointless given how large the Trugo was.

The smart poison eventually found its targets, directed by the Gjardan as it remained in contact, and lobotomized the Trugo, with the flailing tentacles suddenly going limp along with the rest of its active functions. The Gjardan stayed put for some time longer, adding more poison that would eventually fully kill it, all the while the minion clouds were suiciding against the Gjardan’s shields and point defenses, unable to even damage the Neofan technology.

After the large Hadarak was dead, the Gjardan moved to the first planet and did a detailed analysis of Hadarak forces on the surface as the orbital minions were casually dealt with. Several locations appeared sufficient for the Reignor’s mission, one that he had not divulged to anyone on the ship prior to this moment.

“I will be going down to the planet alone and engaging in personal combat,” he said, with the entire command staff of the ship looking at him in utter shock. “If it appears my life is in jeopardy, you are hereby ordered not to intervene unless I request it. What I have to learn cannot be discovered in light combat. It must be a mismatch where I have to use considerable power in order to survive. You do not need to know what I am searching for, nor would you understand if I explained. Do not let naval units interfere, but everything on the ground is forbidden for you to touch.”

“How long will you be engaging in personal combat?” the commander finally asked.

“Until I discover what I came here for. If I do not in the first location, I will move to the second, and the third, and as many as necessary. You are to wait in orbit over my position until I order otherwise. If by chance I am killed, it will be a sign of my inferiority and another will rightfully take my place as Reignor. No fault will be placed upon this ship or crew. These are my commands. Let them be so logged.”

“How many guards do you wish to accompany you?”

“None. I go alone,” he said, with no one uttering a word afterwards. He stared them down for a moment, then turned with a flurry of his cape and departed, not needing to explain further to his subordinates.

He boarded a small landing craft and piloted it himself down to the surface in an area where the Hadarak did not have considerable anti-air batteries. He only had to destroy one on the journey down, then he set his ovoid craft to hover at a decent height and maintain position until called for.

The Reignor opened one of the hatches and jumped out, falling to the ground and cushioning his landing using Essence for lack of flight capability.

The Hadarak were not far away, and the closest were rushing towards him from multiple angles. The Reignor casually pulled off his cape and upper clothing, baring his chest as he tossed the garments on the ground, feeling more alive now than he had in previous memory.

He was not wrong about coming here. The Evids had been so real that he wanted more of them, but there was one way to do that without requesting it of the Director, and that was to do something similar to them in reality…and being here, with the Hadarak all around and his ship ordered not to interfere, he could feel the danger and the excitement that brought, flaking off eons of stagnation as quickly as he had shed his upper clothing.

When the first of the small Hadarak scurried up to him, he didn’t even bother to use Essence, running up to it and stomping on it with one heavy foot, then punching down with his right fist against another as a third jumped on his back…only to be flung away by the telekinetic tissue in his Gorvaj before the creature could even touch them. It was a natural reflex, and he didn’t even have to see the enemy to know they were behind him. Neofan did not let anyone touch their Prominences without permission, and in combat a perimeter had to be maintained, for their construction was not as strong as the rest of their body.

It appeared as a weakness, but many enemies had died trying to exploit it. Neofan had no weaknesses, or so he had thought. Now he was going to test that theory personally, as well as see if he could find a purpose in his life above displacing House Mutavi. He sensed there should be one, for his previous ambitions now seemed hollow. He needed to find a purpose, as all those lightsiders he had felt during the Evids had. He did not understand them all, but what he felt could not be denied.

He needed to know if he could find it in reality, and as Davis had said, some things could only be experienced during action…and the stagnation of daily Neofan life was going to deny him the ability to answer that question, which was why he had to come here, seeking out their enemy, and fighting them personally. No ship, no technology, no troops. Just him and the Hadarak, doing something no other Reignor would ever consider doing.

Putting his own life in danger.

And now that he was here, defeating this pittance of an attack personally, he felt like he was in one of the Evids. He couldn’t analyze it logically, but he could feel it.

And Davis had said that to understand the lightside, you had to learn to trust your feelings.

The Reignor grunted, throwing aside the squashed carcasses of the two small Hadarak beneath him as he prepared for dozens more coming at him, with the larger and more powerful ones slowly approaching from further away. If he stayed here long enough, he would attract an army of them…

And that’s exactly what he intended to do.

“Is he still in combat?” a voice said from behind the Gjardan’s commander as he watched the Reignor down on the planet via the perspective of his ship and the transport that was still hovering over his position.

“Diem…how are you here?”

“I have been onboard the entire journey, Uejy. Do not take offense. I am here to monitor the Reignor.”

“Does he know you are here?”

“No, and you will not tell him. We have concerns.”

“He is still in combat. He has taken no breaks. I do not believe his Essence stores can sustain him much longer.”

“Yet he continues to kill them?”

“His skills have surprised me. He has dispatched 17 different armies of Hadarak that have moved against him, so much so that the 18th held off until they could assemble greater numbers.”

“Has he reached his limit?”

“I thought he had reached it long ago.”

“What is his purpose here?”

“He is investigating something, but would not say what.”

“It appears he is indulging in the bloodshed.”

“I have seen no stopping to indulge. He must kill them rapidly and continuously, or they will overwhelm him.”

“Have you sensed a change in him?”

The commander hesitated. “I have, Diem.”

“A positive one?”

“I do not know. He seems distant, angry. His aura is…”

“No longer Neofan.”

“I would not say that, Diem.”

“But you are thinking it, as are others. When he took Star Force’s offer of training, we questioned him putting himself in a subservient position, but he insisted he needed to learn more about our rivals in this galaxy. But when he returned he was changed. Contaminated. His habits have changed, his motivation is altered. He is not the same Neofan who went to train with Star Force. They have done something to him.”

“What could they do that we would not detect?”

“We do not know, but their empire is held together by an unknown factor. The Reignor says he has discovered it, but he makes no sense in his explanations. If they do have mind altering capability, it would explain their cohesion.”

“Can he be repaired?” the commander asked emphatically, for he rather liked this Reignor.

“Will you tap into the psionic sensor? We can assess this best while he is distracted.”

“That is a violation of protocol. He must allow it.”

“On my authority,” the Diem insisted. “We must know the truth.”

The commander reluctantly nodded, walking over to another empty console and activing the sensor equipment on the landing craft remotely, sending out a psionic field that would encounter and return back the mental state, emotions, and state of one’s Core. All Neofan had individual variations in the readings, but they had to fit inside a statistical silhouette to be considered sane. If they ventured beyond it, they were exiled never to return for the sake of the House, for one’s psionic aura affected those around him, and a toxic one could disrupt and damage the collective…irreparably, which was why the greatest duty of a Diem was to insure the stability and sanity of their Reignor and the members of the Vrorash.

Normally a Neofan would know when they were being scanned, and to do so was to question their status…which was not something that would go without repercussions. Measurement was required at various stages of life, and only then, with some feared to be divergent in between these measuring points, but unless they became belligerent they would not be challenged. It was rumored some had recovered their sanity in the interim, and it was unofficially known that all had that last chance at redemption before being tested again.

To do this now to the Reignor, when he was fighting for his life and probably would not even detect it, was a huge breach of protocol, and the commander would never have agreed unless the Diem had taken responsibility. When the Reignor returned he would be within his rights to kill the Diem on the spot for such a sacrilege.

The results did not take long to register, then a shape appeared that detailed all the measurements into it as if a graph. The shape would tell you where you were in alignment and where you were outside it.

The Reignor’s silhouette matched his last test in several areas, but there were three moderate deviations and one massive one that put him well beyond sanity.

The commander sucked in a breath of air, not believing what he was seeing, and recalibrated the sensors personally to verify they were accurate…and got the same result.

“He is beyond helping now,” the Diem said, his eyes intense. “Recall the landing craft.”

The commander turned and looked at the Diem, not saying anything disrespectful, but not immediately obeying. They had a stare down, and eventually the truth of the situation sank in.

“Should we not analyze him to determine how this happened?”

“Too risky. The crew is already affected. We must purge the disruption from us, and I will recommend to the Vrorash that we sever all in person contact with Star Force. We cannot risk them contaminating us further.”

“We must know how they did it. We are not in a position to exterminate them.”

“They are not the first to attempt to do so, and will not be the last. We must maintain our distance until we acquire servants again. We have had too much contact with outsiders already. Recall the transport. He is lost to us.”

The commander turned and hit a button, with a small hitch as part of his mind began to think about what he was actually doing…then like any Neofan would, he put aside that weakness and did what was required of him.

The Reignor jumped, higher than he ever had before thanks to his short time of physical training with Davis. Star Force knew far more in the discipline than the Neofan did, but he would not admit that to Davis or the Vrorash.

He tucked his arms against his chest and landed feet first on top of a quadruped Hadarak minion, snapping its spine then jumping off to punch another with an Essence sleeve formed into a blade, slicing through its thick armor with ease and lopping off its head. He continued with the blade for several more kills, then sent out a ring-like energy wave that killed all that it passed through within 4 seconds.

That gave him a short breather as those on the horizon continued to run towards him, though there were so many corpses the area was getting cluttered again, so he ran over several and got into fresh ground, leaving behind a long string of ‘islands of the dead’ testifying to how much damage he was doing to the Hadarak…but they still kept coming, and given the size of the infestation on this planet, they could grow new ones faster than he could kill them, meaning there was no way he was going to win this war.

But that was the point. A fight he couldn’t win, and now that he was here he was feeling more alive than ever. Every move he made mattered. There was no safety net, no simulation that could be paused or rerun. This was REAL, and very different than he had imagined. It wasn’t glorious, and yet it was. Not in the physical sense. Gore was everywhere, and his body was covered with it. He wanted to use his Essence or his telekinesis to wipe it off again, but he was so fatigued he didn’t want to waste the effort.

But now, in this fatigue and so far into the combat, he felt a connection that he did not want to relinquish…and the more he fought the greater his distance from the stagnation of Neofan society. That gave him ample motivation to continue to stretch, with his landing craft hovering in the sky not too far away for when the time came that he had to finally relent and rest.

Star Force fought the Hadarak in this manner, but only because they had to. Normally they would use stun weapons and take prisoners…but the Hadarak could not be taken prisoner. Davis had told him they’d tried, but they could not be rehabilitated, only confined, and there were far too many to confine.

The Reignor wasn’t here to save the galaxy, yet he was doing a bit of that work. No, it was more about opposing an enemy that deserved opposing. That was the lightside. And the more of these little revelations he had, the better he was getting at being able to determine what was and was not lightside.

And like Davis had told him, he had to feel it…then, and only then, could he apply logic to understand it. But without the feeling, he would remain lost.

The Reignor was no longer lost.

Before the next wave could get to him, he ran forward to engage part of them before the others could come at him from behind. He used punches and kicks for the most part, enhanced with Essence sleeves rather than using the more expensive techniques. The minions were not complicated, just bulky, but compared to Humans he was a living tank fighting against other tanks, and he did not find any of these minions to be a challenge. Not even the few elite ones he had dispatched two days ago…or was it three? He had forgotten how many day cycles had passed. All the combat was blurred together, and he relished the freedom that brought him.

As he continued to fight in melee fashion, a shadow passed over him that got his attention. He pushed all the Hadarak around him back with a large telekinetic burst as he turned around and looked up at his landing craft…which was moving.

He mentally called to it, but it would not respond. In fact, it would not respond to any of his queries. The technology was reliable, meaning this had to be an override from the Gjardan. In the few moments he had before the minions came back at him he telepathically reached out to the ship and found the mind of the commander.

Why are you recalling the landing craft? he demanded.

You are tainted, Reignor, another mind answered him. One that should not have been there.

The Neofan leader immediately pulled on his remaining Essence and grabbed the landing craft, using his might to overwhelm its engine thrust that increased to maximum as he pulled it down. He almost didn’t have the strength, but then it gradually came closer and closer to the ground as he ran towards it, intending to jump when it got close enough and needing to evade the Hadarak for the pulling was taking nearly all of his concentration.

He was halfway there when a bolt of energy shot down from the sky and hit the craft, disintegrating it and creating a pulse wave that threw the Reignor and the Hadarak back across the swampy landscape with all of them tumbling like trash.

The Reignor hit his head so many times he momentarily lost consciousness, only to focus on something chewing on his arm before he grabbed and snapped its armored neck in his large hands.

His body was so fatigued and shell-shocked he wanted to stay put, but he knew he could not, and he got to his feet having to fight off three more Hadarak, but two were wounded and did not offer much resistance. When he got rid of them and looked around, he saw a few limping here and there as the Gjardan visible in orbit above began to move away from the planet.

The Reignor just stood there and looked, aghast. He had not seen it coming. Not even an inkling of it. He had been doing his duty, studying Star Force to figure out how best to deal with them if and when it came to war, or perhaps a renegotiating of their place in this galaxy. He was loyal, not insane, and yet he hadn’t known one of the Diem were onboard his own ship. Was he betrayed before he even left the Temple?

He didn’t have time to think, but he had to. He was left for dead, with no way off this world and out of this system that was swarming with Hadarak…and without the Gjardan keeping orbital units at bay, he was going to come under attack from the sky even if he survived on the ground.

His own people had just casually discarded him, without even giving him a chance to prove himself…and he figured that was the point. They couldn’t defend their actions, and he had put himself in such a vulnerable position out here there would be no witnesses except those onboard the ship, and any loyal to him would probably be killed as well.

He had doomed himself coming here, and as the reality of that hit him, part of him didn’t care. He was free of them now. Free of the stagnation and everything else his preborn knowledge had been urging him to abandon. And now it was gone, ripped away not by his choice, and being so close to his death gave him extra clarity.

The fate of House Atriark was now no longer in his control. Nothing was. He was going to die here today, tomorrow, the next day. How long he held on was variable, but there would be no victory. And the Diem wasn’t even waiting around to witness his death. Soon they would leave the system entirely, with the Reignor becoming just one of the many inconsequential corpses on this planet.

There was nothing he could do. He had been suckered, and how it had happened didn’t matter now. All that did was how he was going to finish out this small piece of his life.

Before he had met Davis, he would have stood here and allowed himself to be killed, or he would have pulled so much Essence from his body that his Core would detach and he would make his end that way.

But now, all that echoed through his mind was to go down fighting. Make his last stand, as he had experienced in so many of the Evids. But now this one was real, and that realness surpassed every fiction that he had experienced.

In this last moment of his life, he was finally truly alive.

And in that, there was a significant victory.

The Reignor turned as the waves of minions on the horizon beyond the blast range of the orbital bombardment came racing towards him once again, and though no one was watching, he intended to put on quite the show before he finally succumbed to the inferior creatures’ numbers.

He summoned up another Essence sleeve and took off running towards them, intent to meet his end on his terms and not theirs…

10

March 19, 154968

Unexplored Frontier

Extreme High Orbit

Maverick Yeu’cri stood on the bridge of the H’kar light cruiser at the head of a fleet of 17 other such craft and four high speed scout ships as he watched the long range sensors for the first sign of the Zak’de’ron remote convoy, waiting in the system that they were supposed to make a close flyby to, picking up a small gravity turn without actually stopping in the system as they headed out towards intergalactic space.

They were several months shy of that, and there would be two more opportunities for intercept later. After that, they would be in deep space and unretrievable for the next million years or so as they slow coasted their way to another galaxy.

That was, if the information had been correct. The H’kar had been tapped with this assignment because they were closest and had to draw off ships from some of their system defense fleets, for most of their mainline ships were in past the Grand Border fighting the Hadarak.

Yeu’cri had been tapped to go with them just in case there was any trouble onboard, for they were supposed to be unmanned, but with it being a Zak’de’ron convoy disguised in their servant’s ships, there was no way of telling what tricks or traps there might be. If they’d stuck a few people away in stasis to die on the journey only to protect the ships during the outbound leg…well, something like that would be typical of the Zak’de’ron, though only Yeu’cri knew it. The rest of the H’kar were not so well informed, but he was a Maverick, the equivalent of an Archon, except his legs didn’t move quite so fast.

He kept staring at the system map with his entire fleet hammering the approach vector with sensor beams. Yeu’cri hadn’t been given an exact moment they should arrive, only a time window of weeks, but their best guess had been two hours ago, and so far not a blip on the long range sensors.

He wasn’t going to stand here for days waiting, though he could. That was one advantage of being a H’kar. They didn’t have to lay down to sleep, and locking their exoskeleton in place would keep them rigid and upright as long as necessary without taxing their muscles, but right now he didn’t feel like sleeping. He felt like getting a damn ping on the sensors, but they were stubbornly defying his expectations.

“We’re getting a comm signal from an approaching ship from insystem,” one of the bridge officers told him and the Captain, who he was standing beside just outside the command circle that was ringed with control and monitor pedestals, but without a seat that the H’kar did not need. “They’re Zitari Commerce Guild.”

“What do they want?” Yeu’cri asked.

“They want to know what we want all the way out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Tell them to mind their own business and stay clear…no, wait. Don’t say that. Tell them we’re seeking tranquility and their presence is damaging our calm.”

“You want me to tell them what?” the officer asked.

“Just send it verbatim, you don’t have to understand,” the Maverick said as a pinging on the system map immediately drew everyone’s attention.

“Contact in search area.”

“Calculate trajectory and get me an intercept solution.”

A projected path materialized as a shaded column stretching from one side of the system and curving around the star far away from it, then angling away from its original course by only a few degrees.

“We don’t have much to work with,” the Captain warned. “That’s shallower than I expected.”

“Make it work,” Yeu’cri insisted as the shaded area condensed down into a thin line as they got more position data from the incoming contact and a second ping sounded, indicating another ship behind the first…which should be the Zak’de’ron convoy, and they weren’t spaced very far apart at all.

The Captain and the crew worked on it together, mostly via terminal interface with only a few words passing between them, then a timer appeared over the map indicating a countdown of 18 seconds.

“The scout ships are going for the first ship, but we can’t make it. We can grab the 8th if they maintain this spacing and speed.”

“Can they get to the first?”

“Maybe. They’re already enroute to attempt,” the Captain said as small icons on the map moved away from the H’kar fleets current position. “The Zak’de’ron really didn’t want anyone else being able to catch them.”

“Our engines are as good as theirs…or so I’m told,” Yeu’cri said as he waited for the countdown to eclipse, then his light cruiser yanked on the star and the smaller planets in the system to accelerate it as hard as it could not on a line to the central gravity well, but almost perpendicular to it, meaning they weren’t going to get much acceleration out of it.

But what they did get added up, and while the first of the Zak’de’ron ships blew by them a bit further out in the system, the H’kar’s speed gradually caught up and evened out, with them crisscrossing near the 8th ship, then having to yank hard on the star to bring them back and tug on several planets to goose the trajectories together enough for them to get a mooring beam on the other ship at extreme range.

When they did, that allowed them to even out the remaining inertia differences and bring them close enough that a boarding team could go over, with the Maverick at the lead. The ship in question was a Voku one, and they already had the blueprints for such a vessel in their database, so they knew exactly where to go as an energy conduit extended out from one airlock to another and the fully armored H’kar were sent down it and cut through the door, installing a temporary kit over top of it that they could control, then they went inside and sealed it behind them as they raced for both the bridge and the auxiliary control room.

Yeu’cri went with the team to the control room, running through halls and not bothering to look anywhere else, getting there to find everything in order except for one odd piece of technology in the center that was not Voku. It was Zak’de’ron tech, and with a slash of an energy blade from his armor’s wrists, he cut the connecting tendrils to what was probably a navigational device, for Voku systems were nowhere near advanced enough to try and make an accurate jump between galaxies.

Two members of his team interfaced directly with the Voku data ports, hacking into the systems and gaining control of the engine systems as the bridge team finally reached their destination.

“Maverick, there’s a Zak’de’ron device on the bridge.”

“Navigational interface?”

“No, this looks like a comm relay.”

“Check to see if the autopilot is routed through it,” Yeu’cri said, getting ready to override the course and bring them back towards the star in what would be a ‘circle the drain’ braking maneuver given their pass through trajectory.

“Confirmed. We’re receiving course modifications from the ship ahead of us.”

“Probably a chain command from the lead ship.”

“Farrik,” the H’kar on the other end of the comm line swore. “There is linkage between all the ships in the convoy, and there are more than 2,400 of them.”

“Can you use the comm to override the others?”

“Not sure. It’s configured to take orders from the lead ship only. I may be able to rewrite it given enough time.”

“We don’t have time,” he said, opening a comm to the light cruiser. “Captain, we need the first ship or we’re not going to stop most of the convoy. They’re all following navigational orders from it. Have the scout ships reached it?”

“Affirmative. They’re already boarding.”

“Tell them to find the comm unit, probably on the bridge. They need to use it to order the entire fleet to stop in this system if possible. If not we need a redirect to a neighboring system.”

“Transmitting.”

Yeu’cri looked down at the leads from the Zak’de’ron device he’d just severed, hopping he didn’t belatedly need them. “Keep us on course just in case we’re a link in the chain needed to stop the other ships, but standby to manually bring us out of this trajectory if I give the word.”

His team worked to get ready for that eventuality, but apparently his teams on the scout ships were a step ahead of him, for a few minutes later this ship received updates that it transmitted down the line to the next one, and all were new navigational orders.

Yeu’cri moved to the engine panel and manually input the orders the bridge relayed to him after stating the controls up there had been disabled. That began their braking maneuver, but not so gracefully as the Zak’de’ron systems would have managed. Still, they followed more or less in line and gradually slowed down as they circled the system, with the single file ships from at least 17 different races accumulating in one position in the system after more than 3 full orbits around the star, with each one becoming shorter as they got closer to it

They took one last little jog away from the star after nearly skimming its atmosphere towards one of the gas giants in the system, then finished braking squarely against it, with the ships stacking up in orbit there as the long line took more than two days to finally arrive, and by the time they did H’kar skeleton crews were already taking over the first few hundred ships as the Zitari Commerce Guild continued to pester them with questions.

The Maverick went onboard several of the first ones, finding cargos of raw rare elements stacked to the ceiling in every bay, room, and often in the hallways. Later ships held an array of non-Zak’de’ron tech taken from races that the Maverick couldn’t identify. Some could have been trophies, but other than that he didn’t understand the value, for most were not very advanced, though somewhat odd.

Then there was a report of a morgue ship, which he decided to go look at himself as even more weird stuff was being reported in the newer ships to be boarded, all without a single guard or defense mechanism. Apparently the Zak’de’ron didn’t expect anyone to find, let alone know about the existence of the convoy, and were counting on secrecy for their security.

Yeu’cri went onboard a Navden vessel, which was shaped like a saucer with a spoke through the center, to find bodies in stasis tubes everywhere. None were alive, and as soon as he got onboard he found one with an Oso’lon in it, along with many other V’kit’no’sat races, but others as well, and most showed visible wounds from how they died, along with a small display screen attesting to who they were…or rather who they had been.

“Did they keep these as victory spoils?” one of the H’kar with Yeu’cri asked.

“That sounds too vain for them, but it’s possible,” he said as they continued to walk through the creepy ship, then one of the other H’kar onboard commed him through their helmet links. “Maverick, they’ve got a Human or Zen’zat here, can’t tell which, he’s so torn up. Might be one of ours.”

Yeu’cri noted his position on the battlemap and headed towards him. “On my way.”

A few minutes later they came to another smaller bay that had less large corpses in them, and out of all the many aliens…some of which were duplicates of the same race…there was one Human form missing most of his head and all of one arm, along with chunks out of the rest of his body that was badly burned. It was by far the most torn up corpse he’d seen yet.

“Not pretty,” the H’kar there said as the Maverick walked up beside him. “You think he’s one of ours from the V’kit’no’sat war?

“Too big to be Human unless he was a Page. What’s the label say?”

“Doesn’t say anything about him other than the name, and he only has one.”

The Maverick walked over a step and activated the display, seeing the identity of the individual pop up in V’kit’no’sat script…and it caused him to go stiff with shock.

“Do you know him?”

“All Archons and Mavericks do,” Yeu’cri said slowly, staring down at the otherwise empty screen that simply said…

Ironnsey

www.aerkijyr.com

Old Earth Fiction

Two Steps From Hell

“Let it go”

Blood on the Stars

1

March 19, 154970

Itaru System (Novunu Region)

Wendigama

Director Davis’s dropship landed on one of the upper tiers of the many Star Force pyramids built on the planet as Reclaimer Hamob continued to rework its landscape, but this one, while visually identical to the others, was special.

He walked out alone, wearing a mostly white uniform with golden embroidery…or at least the appearance of it…on the shoulders and sleeves that were partially covered by a flowing cape that trailed behind him slightly as he walked across the flat surface of the pyramid towards the nearest wall of the next higher tier and the door set within it where a slightly taller man waited for him, and neither were wearing happy expressions.

“When I sent word, I didn’t mean for you to come here,” Master Trainer Wilson said, his arms crossed over his sculpted chest set beneath a simple black t-shirt.

Davis stopped walking two steps from him, sending more information with a glance than most people could in hours of talking. “The Neofan Reignor Plausious is gone. The new Reignor is unknown, and has banned all interaction with us. They only communicate through messages and a rare holo.”

“Killed?”

“I don’t know, but I led him to this. I felt a change in him, then they eliminated him. It’s happening all over again. The same thing that’s happened for eons across the known universe.”

“What exactly?” Wilson asked as Davis’s cape swayed in the planet’s light wind as they stood just outside the open doorway with an ample view of the green landscape given their elevated position.

“The Gahana referenced it before. The pieces are all there, but they never put it together. I didn’t until recently, but it’s what we’ve always known. The lightside are hunted. Not just because of the power we wield. There’s something deeper. An instinct that seeks it out for destruction in many. I haven’t figured out why, but it’s there. It always has been. And the deeper into the lightside you get, the more you are hunted. It’s as if the universe doesn’t want its darkside paradigm disrupted.”

“Yet it’s accepted in Star Force.”

“I’m beginning to wonder how much, and how many simply don’t have the power to challenge us. I thought the rejection rate of Varkemma recruits had to do with their culture, but now I think it may be more ubiquitous. If I’m right, we’re going to be destroyed by it.”

Wilson frowned. “How?”

“The Reignor said his preborn skill was vision, yet apparently he couldn’t see his betrayal coming. I’ve been rethinking everything, because I seem to have developed the same skill. I’ve been looking for hidden threats, assumptions I’ve made, and it’s been staring me in the face the entire time. I just couldn’t quite process it, because I keep inherently thinking of other people as an altered version of myself. I’ve known of this weakness before, but I can’t operate any other way until I have a pattern of behavior to learn from, because I don’t understand why people are willingly darkside. Confused, twisted, disillusioned…I can imagine someone like be being taken out of alignment in an infinite number of ways, but to choose willingly to be darkside. I can’t comprehend that, and it’s a blind spot for me that I’ve grappled with many times before, and I lose every time. I have to relearn, and right now while it’s fresh in my mind we need to plan.”

“You keep underestimating how bad people can be?”

“No. I keep using permutations of me. And I lack something they have. Something sick and twisted inside. Something that is either part of them, or it compels them. I don’t know what. With the lizards it was genetic memory, but this is something more inherent. And it’s because I don’t understand the darkside from within. Only as its enemy.”

“Why would someone step down from being an Archon?” Wilson noted a previous ongoing conversation they had. “Fear, seduction, cowardice, a lack of will to act? None truly answer why a few with the skillset reject it. It’s almost as if there is something we don’t understand in the universe,” he joked.

“This pursuit of the lightside is becoming more clear, and we’re in more danger than I thought. We have some time, but the hammer is going to eventually drop and the only way we have a fighting chance is to get out ahead of it.”

“Does that have something to do with the new uniform?”

“It does. What’s the latest on the younglings?”

“Getting worse. Five years old and they’re already my height, and they can’t handle the emotions more than anything. Whatever the trailblazers gave them, it’s a lot to grapple with.”

“Too much?”

“Jury’s still out on that. The more I understand it, the more I can help them. But this first class is going to be a rough one all the way through. That’s become quite clear.”

“What happened?”

“We’ve had to take a big brother approach. I’ve got some Golden Knights here kicking their ass when needed, and that’s settled them somewhat, but give them someone that’s not stronger than them and they go crazy, as if they’re in a room full of buttons and have to press them all. They are not learning boundaries, and I think it has to do with the aversion to rules in the trailblazers. Show them a line, tell them not to cross it, and it becomes the first thing on their priority list to do. There is no trust, so we’re having to teach them the hard way what not to do. There’s learning going on, but anything new is the same all over again. These kids don’t want to learn, Sean. They’re not Archons, but they have Archon traits. I’m not going to birth the second class unless we get a handle on this.”

“Some people can’t handle super powers,” Davis said regretfully, for he should have seen this coming. “The V’kit’no’sat knew. They knew all along. That’s why they made the Zen’zat the way they were. It wasn’t hubris. They made them the way they couldn’t make themselves, and now we have all their notes.”

“Puff?”

“No. Pol’ake knows some of the Zak’de’ron, but he doesn’t have their accumulated knowledge. Now I do. We intercepted their intergalactic convoy, and now I know why they hid it from the Neofan. They’ve been up to a lot, Wilson. We thought they were stagnant fighting the Hadarak to hold a line and going no further. That was cover. Most of their own people didn’t know, I suspect. They’ve been working on an endgame for their stability problem.”

“What stability problem?”

“The same one all darksiders have. They turn on one another. The Era’tran brought the Ter’nat to them, and they saw an opportunity to experiment in a way they couldn’t do with the other V’kit’no’sat races, or themselves. Their societies developed a counter mechanism to the internecine, and it’s apathy. Dial down their senses and they are less interested in fighting each other. They’ve documented this happening over and over again in other races, and they wanted to be able to fully utilize their abilities without having to go through life numbed up. They knew they had a problem and were working through it vicariously, and using the Zen’zat to do it. They continued this with the Voku and Boja. But it only starts there. They have been working on many projects, things they never fully succeeded on, but made progress with, hidden within their own society. They knew they would be hunted, because they were superior, and I can see the lightside threads in them. Twisted, disillusioned, and corrupted, but they are there. In many of them, but not all. It’s not their birth race that does it. It’s something else.”

“I’ve known that from day one.”

“My point is, they were corrupted and fighting it in their own way. To create a race that was trustworthy. That was their endgame, and once they achieved it they could unleash themselves on the universe before it destroyed them. But they didn’t make it. They were wiped out three times, and had to restart from scratch. And they weren’t full lightside. I haven’t found any that are, but there are plenty a lot closer sealed up in the Maty. All were taken out, and the Gahana saved the last few, not knowing what else to do other than preserving them. The universe hunts the lightside in all forms. I don’t know why, but it’s becoming more potent to me. This is real, and more of a threat than I ever imagined. It’s something woven into the nature of the universe beyond genetic memory.”

“And how does that apply here?”

“Sifting. We were stupid to think genetic memory of the trailblazers would be enough.”

“It should heavily influence them, and is, just not quite in the way I had expected. Stability must have been a learned trait that can’t be passed on, but we can teach them that in time. They’re just being stubborn about not wanting to learn.”

“Sav,” Davis said simply, with Wilson raising an eyebrow.

The Director let him ponder that for a moment, then an epiphany hit him.

“Too much mental power too early,” he said, with Davis nodding.

“Restricting physical advancements isn’t enough. Too much computer power for newbs ends up with them mashing the keyboard. And you’re telling me they’re nearly full grown already?”

“They’ve got another foot or two to go, but as far as Humans are concerned, they’re fully adult bodies…but thankfully their sexuality is less expressed. That trait carried over. We don’t have any libido rage monsters. Lack of use by the trailblazers probably downgraded it, but their aggression is through the roof. They are always spoiling for a fight, and I can’t let any weaker personnel around them or they jump them immediately. Their predator response is insane, and misaligned. They want targets. Need targets. They cannot sit still for the life of them, and only sleep a couple hours a day, and that amount is decreasing gradually unless I really wear them out.”

“We have to help these 100, but we can’t let the trailblazers reproduce any more. All the old stories always had an advanced individual mating with a normal person, and I think this watered down the advancements enough for them to be feasible.”

“A limit?” Wilson suspected.

“That’s my current line of thought. A new birth can’t be in a too advanced body and mind, or they end up going insane, or at least getting twisted. They don’t drive, the genetic memory drives them, and only the strongest willed people can work their way out of that. If we want a basic template, we need a non-warrior with suppressed warrior traits that can unlock. Ter’nat, it turns out, are nearly pacifists. And the Zak’de’ron wanted them for this reason. The Era’tran saw their standouts and noticed their potential, but each of them had to rise above their genetic programming. And here we are trying to rely on it for the Furyans.”

“Seems rather obvious now that you’re stating it. Why didn’t I see that before?”

“We capped Canderous at how intense their maturia training could be for the same reason. Now we gave these younglings too much genetic memory because we didn’t know what it would contain. The trailblazers are too damn powerful to reproduce. Unless we really scale it back early, and have their powers unlock when earned.”

“How do we undo their Sav?”

“I don’t think we can, unless we cross breed with someone who doesn’t have it.”

“There goes our pure Furyans,” Wilson said, looking at the ground in disgust. “Guess I’m just up for any challenge and bit off more than they could chew.”

“Had to be done to generate a baseline. And a very valuable one, if what we’ve found is accurate.”

“Meaning?”

“They had corpses saved, in order to preserve their genetic material, from standout individuals within the V’kit’no’sat over their history, plus some others from outside their empire, and now we possess them. We have Ironnsey.”

Wilson’s eyes widened. “How does that help if he’s more or less Furyan in his advancement?”

“Because he didn’t become that badass very fast.”

The larger man rolled his eyes then turned and punched the Yeg’gor wall beside him. “I am so stupid. Rate of advancement will alter the genetic memory, and we birthed slower learners into fast learners’ bodies. No wonder they can’t handle it. The driver is developing slower than the vehicle, so the vehicle is always driving the driver.”

“Will an apprenticeship help them?”

“Yes and no. You don’t want to apprentice slow learners to fast ones, so bringing in a trailblazer would be a bad idea for that…but if you want them to learn their bodies and minds, bringing in someone who has mastered them would be a help. I’ve been holding off on that because we are making progress.”

“Are any of them fast learners?”

“Nothing near Archon level.”

“Then we need one of them. They’re the only ones who understand Furyan mechanics, whatever they are now.”

“And you think melding their genetics with Ironnsey’s will tone down the rate advancement requirements?”

“No. I’ve been in discussions with the Mastertechs on this already. We think Ironssey is one piece of the puzzle to our desired Clone Army. One tilted to the lightside from the beginning, but not too advanced that it ruins anyone who isn’t Archon material.”

“How many more pieces do we need?”

“I don’t know, but thanks to what you’ve done here we have the top piece. However, our top priority has to be these 100 and saving them from their too advanced bodies.”

“I’m not going to lose them, Sean.”

“But we need to give them a less impossible path. Or at least a guide. You and I can help, but this is one task that I think only the trailblazers can tackle. No offense.”

“I don’t agree, except that we need to offer them every advantage we can.”

“I’d be happy to be proven wrong, but we put them in this situation, and it’s our responsibility to help them find themselves through their genetic memory. Are they getting better or worse?”

“Mixed bag.”

“Who do you want to call in?”

“Oni. They’re all nearly identical, but she has the most grace…and that’s what they badly need. Where she is right now?”

“In the Deep Core attempting to make contact with the Megaloids…or will be soon. Last update was several were close to breaking through the wall. Once in, we’re going ally hunting.”

“Are any of them not deep into Hadarak territory?” Wilson asked.

“Two. Jax and Kent. Both are working as Reclaimers for a group of Bond of Resistance contacts fleeing here. All is not well out there, and they’re seeking refuge here beyond the embassies we’ve allowed for part of their people if the rest are lost. The only way we’re allowing that is if they join Star Force. I didn’t think we’d have any real takers, but they jumped on it. We’ve got 19 advanced races of refuges to integrate into either a combined faction or separate ones.”

“So they’re busy.”

“When are they not? By the time we get word to them, they’ll probably have a handle on it. Which do you want?”

“Kent.”

“Alright. You handle them until he gets here, then let him figure this out. I need you to help me with the Clones.”

“Is that just a reference, or are you suggesting a single genetic template?”

“I don’t know. But now more than ever, I feel that if we don’t get a lightside tilt encoded into the genome of one race that can glue the rest of us together, when we get hit cracks are going to form that we can’t see now. Our lightside aura is carrying others from the outside. When they have to choose in a neutral state, or with a darkside influence, how many will choose the light?”

“We always knew many would not. You’re saying it’s worse than we thought?”

“I’m saying those who are among us could turn into the hunters in a monumental backstab when this galaxy is invaded and we’re in a similar situation to where we were after the V’kit’no’sat took Earth. We’ve taken on so many races that can’t stand on their own, and are carrying them. What happens when that carry is temporarily gone?”

“I can understand new younglings born in that time, but the current members should be more or less stable.”

“That’s what I thought. The Zak’de’ron datafiles hold a lot of history, and combined with the tidbits I’ve gotten out of the Maty, it appears that if our light doesn’t shine constantly on our neighbors, they will twist and spawn hunters that will come after us. It’s happened so many times it cannot be a coincidence. It appears to be a compulsion, though I cannot locate a source. I can’t even image one, but it’s there. If we don’t develop a backbone to Star Force, all those we are carrying will not be advanced enough in the limited time we have. We have to cheat and skip ahead to the end product, and Ironssey plus the Furyans get us close to it…I think. We need to swap notes, which is why I’m here. There’s too much to discuss with comm lag.”

“I can tell you right now we’re not in a position to do what you suggest. We need a lot more intermediate experiments first, and if you want their genetics toned down, Ironssey probably isn’t the best place to look. You’re probably trying to include too much into one profile. Opposites don’t meld.”

“The Mastertechs are suggesting a layered genome, something we only discovered existed in the Maty database, and now we have a lot more data from the Zak’de’ron. We think we can utilize it to create different forms, with transformations between each when unlocked. They start out peons in a very stable, basic genetic memory with several wisps of greatness. If they follow them, they unlock a new higher state, then another and another until we get up to Furyan or whatever the highest level is.”

“And we can do this?”

“Not yet. And we have to be careful not to hurt the new births in the process, but we’ve got at least 3 other templates from the Zak’de’ron’s corpse collection that will be useful as intermediaries when blended with Golden Knights, Pages, Commandos, etc. We need to take all of our various assets and blend them into one basic package. And we need to do it yesterday, because the hunters are coming. My vision skill is screaming this now, and I sense it’s always been there just beneath the surface. Now I can feel it. The universe is going to erase us from existence and reset the natural darkside balance. The Neofan are a microcosm of this, but it was enough to open my eyes. And when Paul finishes his work with the Hadarak, we’re going to piss off a lot of them.”

“What’s Paul doing?” Wilson asked, unaware of his current assignment.

“The impossible…”

2

March 27, 154970

System 882934 (Hadarak Territory)

Low Stellar Orbit

The Excalibur had left the system twice over the past two years to resume hunting Wardens while Azoro’s new best friend continued to sit within the star. Both times the Shakier stayed behind, now able to communicate directly to the Hadarak through the special growths it had produced at his direction. Azoro no longer needed Paul as an intermediary, and had cited his work with ‘Behemoth’ as taking priority over Paul’s instruction unless Paul chose to stay here…which he knew he wouldn’t with a galactic war ongoing.

So Paul had left to continue fighting, returning now for the second time and sinking his ship down into the outer layers of the star as he called out through the Saiolum, which was rather thin in the system, but he got an immediate response and coordinates to travel to, for Azoro couldn’t come to him unless the Saiolum was more prominent.

Passing through the thicker layers of the star took a great deal of time, even after rising back up once Azoro was located and skipping over some of the distance around the circumference in the void of space before dipping back down into the fiery soup and shoving the ship’s mass towards one of two Hadarak in the star. The second was not friendly, but it had not left since taking refuge here after the previous battle.

When the Excalibur got in range, Paul felt Azoro’s presence in his mind again like a weightless backpack he had grown familiar to carrying.

Progress? Paul asked.

We have been waiting for you to return. I cannot stay here any longer. A transformation is about to begin, and I will be trapped with nothing to do for the duration. We may leave immediately to resume your pursuit of other Wardens.

Wait, what’s going on?

There is no need to wait. We can discuss as we travel…or do you wish to waste pointless hours here?

Paul sent a mental command to the bridge to start their ascent back towards space. Start talking.

The second Hadarak is conflicted, but will remain with Behemoth out of loyalty. Do not tag it for destruction. I do not know what will happen with it, but at the moment it is neutral.

Well that’s good. But will that stick?

I said I do not know what will happen with it.

Stop being cute and just tell me what’s going on. I can feel you seething.

This is an anger long in the making. The Hadarak were once something else. Something great. Then they were conquered and perverted. I have discovered their original genome still dormant within them…along with so many other genetic profiles they have essentially become a repository of forms. Behemoth is about to begin a transformation back into what the Hadarak originally were, and it will take centuries to run its course, during which it will mostly be dormant. I will have no one to speak with, thus I must leave with you.

How big of a transformation are we talking about?

Nearly all of its body mass.

Is that a natural process?

I filled in what was lacking. The biosmithing capabilities of the Hadarak are far beyond what I imagined. They were a great race of builders, but they grew rather than constructed technology for their needs. I have no history of them, this I know from their makeup. They were lightside-inclined, I believe, then had their magnitude corrupted to serve others as the barbarians you know now.

How could swarm tactics be lightside?

They can grow non-living constructs as the Uriti can, if they choose to. Or will be able to once this one is returned to a glory it has never known.

And the current?

A constructed control mechanism that mirrors the Saiolum without understanding it. The Hadarak used to thrive in it, Paul. Then they were silenced to its presence. That is a crime beyond your understanding.

So that’s how you were able to connect with it. I was wondering why it would listen to you so easily. Where do its loyalties lie now?

Once the current is silenced, it will be with us. That will only happen during the transformation.

Is the other Hadarak a threat to him?

No. The Yeg’gor shell will remain and the transformation will take place inside. The Wardens cannot harm each other. They’re not designed for it, other than ramming at speeds which cannot be attained within the star. So long as a Lurker does not find it, Behemoth will be safe.

What if the other calls for one?

I need you to deploy a guardian fleet before then, within the next year if possible. A courier is its only means of communication, and I do not think the danger is more than negligible, but we must protect Behemoth. It is a key piece in Star Force’s future.

But you can’t repeat the process with his friend here?

Not unless I can speak with them and convince them to produce the growth necessary for interface. We will not be able to convert them, Paul. Not most. But I need you to find me more of the older ones. If you can, I am confident I can convert at least a few of them. This will work in synergy with your current combat mission, for the smaller Hadarak are beyond help.

And the Lurkers?

Possible. Have any ever spoken to you?

No Hadarak ever has except this one. And we never let the Uriti get close to a Lurker to translate. What is Behemoth going to look like?

Genetic extrapolation is not something I am capable of in this form, but the structure is radically different. Polished rather than crude.

Still asteroids?

No. It will be visibly organic. The Yeg’gor will grow anew, in a fashion that was lost in their downfall. It appears their gifts were used to create someone else’s designs, and that is what the Hadarak became. What they were previously was far more magnificent.

How do you tell lightside from genetics?

I can tell they were builders, and our nature lends towards the lightside. This I am sure of. What I have not been sure of before, and have not spoken to you about, is a lingering mystery that I believe I have partially solved. The Sha’kier and other races have been searching for our past, and there are pieces of it scattered everywhere. The Gahana found many that we did, and a few that we did not, but they did not see the larger picture. Something was here before us. Long, long ago. And I believe it was lightside. Destroyed and repurposed, in part. And the Hadarak are one missing piece of it. You are another.

Me or Star Force?

Star Force. The Sha’kier have been builders, and I have spoke to you at length about this, but we were always incomplete in a way I never understood until I saw Star Force. Learning from you, I know you are not builders. Not at your Core. You do it well, but it is not your calling. Your calling is to action. You are conflict resolvers, and we are not. We construct, you fix. Both involves building, but from different priorities. Both involve problem solving, but where we are in our element you are not, and vice versa. We complement one another, but the Sha’kier never knew your type existed. Now I do, and I sense we two are not all that is needed.

Needed for what?

A true empire, for lack of a better word. What I suspect once existed. And I think the Hadarak are another piece, though I can’t say what until Behemoth returns to its true form.

How old are they?

I can only guess, but their root code is far beyond yours or mine. They are so advanced that our minds have trouble interfacing with them.

So why can’t they interface with us? The Hadarak are complicated, but not what I’d call advanced.

True. This one learned to speak, and it is at a significant disadvantage. When its true form is retaken, I do not know what will happen. But it will be something this galaxy has not seen in a very, very long time, if ever…though that word holds more history than I could ever account for. The scope of the universe and its longevity grows the more I learn. We are part of something truly epic, and at times it scares me.

I know what you mean, I think, Paul hedged. It makes no sense, but we’re here and things are in motion regardless. Where did it all come from? Can’t be from nowhere, and if there is an origin point, where did the origin point come from? I don’t have the logic necessary to frame it, for the edges of the box are impossible. That’s why we’ve focused on learning more about ourselves, which we can analyze, rather than worry about the past that cannot be touched.

You would do well to look harder at it. There is something there that is immensely important, and we are missing it. I’m more certain of that now than ever. The Hadarak are part of it. You are a reformation of it. As were the Sha’kier. Pieces of a puzzle that once fitted together create a larger whole.

Is ‘The Master Empire’ a sufficient name for it?

I have nothing better.

What else have you found of this past Master Empire?

Whispers. Fragments. I believe we are living in the rubble of what once was, but because we were born into it we don’t see the tentacle print of the giant we are sitting within.

Aquatic references again, Paul noted. When you got your biped body why didn’t your vocabulary change?

It is not aquatic. Such prints are on land. In the water we do not ‘step.’

You got me there, but why not call it a footprint?

My true body has tentacles. My assumed body was for interaction with others in our land empire. It was not truly me.

Were any of your manufactured bodies aquatic?

Of course. But we had a responsibility to safeguard others, and our bodies were not suited for combat, so we created those that were. As is your race’s.

Furyan or Human?

Your bipedal frame is structured for radius interaction. Era’tran are bipedal, but they are angular and vulnerable from above and behind. You are built to dance. Sha’kier are not. We are built to work in harmony, reflections of one another. You are designed to instigate, to defend, and to make a move. We construct the battlefield, you fight on it. Together we are stronger, but we lack other pieces that I cannot see yet. We must reconstruct what was lost anew. That is my purpose now, and it was what the Sha’kier have sought without knowing it for our entire existence. I believe the Gahana seek it as well, as have other civilizations. We are fragments trying to reassemble without knowing how.

That would suggest the universe was meant to be lightside. I don’t see that.

I cannot answer that. Just attest to the fragments that suggest a larger construct that is missing.

We’ve used other people’s stuff before, but we do it our way. I’m not interested in rebuilding someone else’s inferior empire.

Why do you assume inferiority?

You know the Sha’kier were not truly lightside, Azoro.

That is my point, Paul. What if we are a component missing the necessary other pieces for full alignment? What if you are the alignment we lacked?

If you can’t self-align, then you’re not really lightside.

How many in your empire qualify in that categorization?

I honestly don’t know, but all Archons and Mavericks can, plus a great deal more.

That’s a small fraction of your empire.

Was there no one in the Sha’kier that was lightside? At least that had prominence?

None like you. It is not in the Sha’kier nature to conflict on the level you do. We make small advancements, not sudden ones.

Then why didn’t you eventually get there?

From observing you, I can attest that a warrior’s spirit is required to attain certain benchmarks. You shake things up just to shake them up and test for weaknesses. Our harmony does not allow for this.

Then learn, Paul scoffed, turning around and hopping up on the edge of the railing in the war room that he was standing in alone aside from a myriad of holograms from various projects he was continuously working on. I learned to build, even if it’s not my nature.

It is your nature, but from a point that enables you to act more effectively in the future. You are investing time to enhance your capabilities, not to create a harmony. You are incompatible with harmony.

How so?

It bores you.

Paul laughed. Guilty as charged.

We need each other, as well as the other components I cannot identify yet. The Hadarak are builders of a different variety. I am hoping the differences will lead me to the third component.

Are you saying I need to go have a chat with the Gahana for you?

It would be pointless if I could not join you, but I am deeply curious. However, I do not feel they are connected. They are something else.

Are we fragmented races, or new incarnations of this Master Empire?

I would guess new incarnations, but I do not have enough information to know. The pattern is the same, regardless. We are meant for more, and can only achieve it together.

That begs the question of what happened to the first…or last…Master Empire?

It didn’t implode. I have ascertained that much from you.

How?

Lightside doesn’t fight lightside. And Star Force has proven this in a way so obvious the other galaxies have taken notice. You are stable, they are not, and they are envious.

Have you been somewhere else since I left?

No. There is more information in your data feeds that you do not consider. While you train I have time for other pursuits that you do not monitor, and I have been watching the Bond of Resistance intently. Some are drawn to your lightside. Others fear it. The vacuum of power is great.

How is there a power vacuum? The triumvirate are supposedly more powerful than us.

Then why are they here? What do they have to gain from begging to put some of their people in this galaxy? They are scared of something, and are coming to you because of your superiority. You are not a predator, the Neofan are. Their allies must always fear them. This is a power vacuum. Real power can be aligned with and relied upon. And they crave it.

You’re different.

I have had a great deal of time to think absent your mental parameters, and now that I have returned I appreciate them even more. You and those like you are the calibrating rods the universe needs. And built around you will be a reborn Master Empire. I will make sure of it, no matter how long it takes. What was lost will be recovered.

Unless it’s obliterated.

We will build what is lost again, rediscover it if necessary. We will have to.

What could take out a Master Empire except a Master Enemy?

We lack information of the other galaxies near us. What else lies in the further ones? And if there was a great power there, would they annex all galaxies, or patrol them and eliminate the threats?

That’s the Others’ modus operandi.

Something even beyond them, I fear. I do not think they could do this to the Hadarak. When I was in their minds, they were not sufficiently advanced. The Chixzon are on a higher biological level. Someone else did this to the Hadarak, and they inherited it. Or purchased it. Or some other variant I have not considered. Too little information, but I am outlining the puzzle, and I am seeing great powers in the past that we are living in the aftermath of, and suffering from. Whoever did this to the Hadarak, I think are no longer here.

Another remnant?

Used by lessers as a weapon to assert their will. And we must kill them, for there is no other way except for a few. You must find me those few. Their rejuvenation will be a small counterbalance to what has been done to their race.

Any chance the reformed Behemoth can do something with the other Hadarak?

Unlikely, but unknown.

Can you do to the smaller ones the same thing, if they were willing?

They do not possess the coding library the Wardens do.

If you insert new code…

They do not have the ability to change.

Nuts, Paul said, swinging his feet so his heels lightly kicked the panel beneath the railing he was sitting on. I’m glad for this, but I was hoping you’d give me a keycode to get them to stop attacking us, or something else game changing.

Some victims can’t be saved.

Never give up, never surrender.

That’s why you’re built for conflict and I am not. I cannot push forward without a path to follow.

Well, I am a trailblazer, so…

The most aptly named group within your empire. If there is a way to save the Hadarak, I cannot see it.

But you did give me a way to save a few. I had lost any hope for them.

But you still tried, or this one would have been killed like the others. You didn’t lose all hope.

Sometimes you check the cookie jar even though you know it’s empty, Paul admitted. Out of defiance.

I do not understand that concept, but none the less, it was successful. Now find me another to save…

3

July 1, 154971

Itaru System (Novunu Region)

Wendigama

Kent-076 had been traveling for 10 months to get from his assignment in the Outer Rim to the Outer Core. For all the advancements Star Force had made with regards to travel, the galaxy was still so big it took a lot of time to move about, and there were no Temple network links to the Core to speed things up…at least not that Star Force had available to them. Apparently the Neofan used one recently, whose destination could only be guessed at, but it confirmed there was more to the hidden networks than previously discovered.

That didn’t help Kent, and he had to ride out the months on a warship biding his time in the Archon Sanctum onboard training to keep from being bored to death. Ever since his transformation to Furyan he had become less able to just sit and think, for he had the urge to do something that was needed…but he couldn’t quite identify what.

The other trailblazers had admitted to similar urges as they tried to figure out their new biology and abilities. For Kent he hadn’t changed color like some of the others had, though his size had increased. He now stood 7’9 inches tall and his body mass had increased by 43%. He’d been ungainly in the beginning, but had gradually regained his poise and easy of movement. After that he had worked on developing his new abilities, unique among them was a tissue in his hands that the others did not possess. So far it did nothing, no matter what he tried, and it was the most obvious of the lingering questions he had regarding himself, but not the most important.

All of them were grappling with questions, and none had answers to all of them. But they’d gotten a decent handle on their new bodies, enough to give the go ahead to start reproducing. The first class was 100 younglings born through surrogates…all Pages who volunteered, for they didn’t want to risk birthing the potentially larger Furyans in smaller Human bodies.

That had been a wise move, for the infants grew fast in the womb and were born in only 5 months, each at 22-26 lbs. They were walking within 4 months, and growing far more rapidly than anyone expect. Kent had kept up with the flow of highly classified updates heading his way, but he hadn’t predicted a call for his assistance. Definitely not this early, and from Wilson himself, without saying why.

Kent knew there had to be trouble, and there wasn’t any point in explain with a 10 month trip ahead of him, so when he landed on the top of the Temple where the Furyan maturia was located, he went in knowing little of the problems that they were facing until Wilson took him directly to the group as they were going through calisthenics drills under the direction of 200 trainers…two for each one…and still the younglings were not paying much attention.

“I never had this issue with you,” Wilson said from the observation room high above the training deck and hidden behind a wall with 1-way vision. “And they’re getting worse as they get older. It’s almost to the point where they will ignore us on anything, and when we try to coerce them they automatically go into combat mode…and they prefer that to anything else. Even when we beat the crap out of them in self-defense. They keep coming back for more. I’ve tried to incorporate as many combat drills as I can, but they don’t want that. They want to come after us.”

“You’re the only real threat. The machines are just toys,” Kent said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That’s a lot of chatter.”

Wilson frowned. “Are you picking up something?”

“You’re not? Their telepathy is broadcasting constantly.”

“I don’t sense anything. Are you sure?”

Kent stared silently for a moment. “It’s not normal. It’s…almost as if it’s a corrupted version of battlemeld. I can’t sense their perceptions, but I’m getting errant thoughts and emotions.”

“If it’s keyed to only Furyans that would eliminate us. I should have had a technological scan rather than personal monitors. I didn’t expect they could produce anything we’d miss. What are you sensing, specifically?”

“Chaos. And if it’s transmitting from one to another, it’s going to drown out any progress an individual might make. Why are they all together?”

“Because they freak out when isolated. They just pound on the doors demanding to be let back into the group. I’ve gotten them to do isolated tasks in view of the others but at several hundred meters distance, though they refuse to be out of sight of the others.”

“Pefbar?”

“They can’t use it. We had to lock it down because it was confusing them even more. I don’t think they can handle these bodies, and everything I’ve tried they’d deliberately sabotaged. They’re viewing me as the enemy.”

“As did we,” Kent pointed out.

“You craved the training.”

“We craved the challenge. Are they finished growing?”

“Height wise, seems so. But their mental growth is not compatible with Human standards. I don’t know if they’re damaged or if this is going to be normal, but the only teaching I’ve been able to do is how to better circumvent our daily activities.”

Kent looked down at the lackadaisical activity and felt their noise. He let it soak into his senses, as if deciphering it, and began reflecting it back in more order than he received it.

Every head on the training deck immediately turned to look up towards his hidden position, then a few seconds of increased chatter amongst them resulted in them breaking their loose formation and running towards the nearest exits as the trainers jumped to stop them…and a 300 man brawl immediately broke out.

“This is where the fun begins,” Kent said as he raised a hand up to the wall before him and blew it apart with his Bra’stem, formulating the vivid red energy into a compressed orb that cracked and disintegrated the duck blind while he used his bioshields to keep the debris from flashing back on Wilson. He forced it all out into the training deck, with it raining down onto the edge of the brawl that suddenly stopped as Kent leapt out and landed beautifully on the floor in a well-practiced ‘hero landing’ that would have made Deadpool proud.

“All the trainers need to leave, now,” Kent said, feeling the chatter amongst the Furyans shift and focus on him as he reflected it back, modulating it, and seeing them learn to mimic his alterations almost instantaneously. “I will handle this personally.”

“Good luck,” one of the Golden Knights said as he shoved one of the Furyans out of his way…with the youngling punching back three times in response and not budging the Knight with any of the blows as if she was nothing more than an annoying gnat.

“Come here,” Kent said forcefully as he telepathically focused on the flailing red-skinned female that was literally wearing her emotions on her arms. All of these younglings had been born of the same pairing…Kerrie-057 and Rio-058…as a testbed before attempting other pairings, so all of these 100 would have the same set of abilities to learn to master rather than mixing them up with different bloodlines.

The female jerked away from her haymakers, the red in her skin showing spikes of yellow as the red faded back to blue and she walked over to Kent.

“What is your name, youngling?”

“Samira Kerio,” she said, quaking either from the recent rage or being this close to Kent.

“Why do you not want to train?”

“It doesn’t feel right. You feel right, though.”

Kent nodded. “Is that true for the rest of you?”

The others mostly stood frozen, but a few responded…though with all their telepathic chatter he could tell what they were thinking whether they liked it or not. They were broadcasting uncontrollably, and he could either handle this the easy way, or brute force.

He chose option #3.

“Your bodies are made from those of my brother and sister. They are very advanced, and in order to use them properly you must train…a lot…and you have not been doing so. I feel right because I am stable. You are unstable. So from now on you will train with me, not them,” he said, pointing to the last of the trainers leaving through the far door. “Use my stability to learn to develop your own. Mimic mine as much as you can, but each of you will have to fashion your bodies and your minds to suit the person within. There is much similar in you, but you are not identical. You must find yourselves, for now you are lost, and when you mimic each other you will forever be lost. I am not lost, so mimic me, and follow.”

Kent took off jogging, making sure he went painfully slow…and immediately all 100 of the young Furyans flocked behind him as if they didn’t dare be left behind, and he knew why. It was the same pull he felt for other Archons, and especially the trailblazers. They were better together, always had been, but missions required them to be apart and solo most of their lives. They knew this, and accepted it, but they always felt a pull to be with one another, as if a longing for a home that didn’t exist in place, but in people.

These younglings were feeling the same thing, and now that he had shown himself he knew they would not let him leave their sight…which was going to be annoying, but it meant they would listen to him and follow his orders. He’d just become the pack leader by showing up, and already their chatter was altering drastically. There was order to it now, all focused on him.

And from him they would have to learn, for he was not sensing individuality in them. He was sensing a group mentality driven by instincts too advanced for them to handle.

This was definitely not going to work for the Furyan race they had envisioned, and he was glad Davis was pulling the plug on it, because these 100 were going to have to be trained Master to Apprentice…in the middle of a war where he was needed elsewhere.

But he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, leave them like this. It was his Furyan genetics that were too much for them to handle, and it was now his responsibility to get them trained enough that they could overcome it and chart their own course forward. These people would probably never be Archons, but they were kid brothers wearing the hand me downs of the trailblazers.

That made them more similar than the other Archons in some respects, but also so totally foreign that Kent knew this was not going to be a simple fix. This was going to be decades, if not centuries, to get them squared away.

The trailblazers had created this problem, and now it was his job to handle it while the others were out doing the big things he should be doing.

But now that he was here, he didn’t regret it. This was important, not to the war effort, but to these 100. They needed rescued, and it looked like a Furyan was the only one who could do it. Kent didn’t know where this was going to lead, but in the near future he was going to be mother duck whether he liked it or not.

He sped up a little bit to test their speed, soon to find them pushing hard to try and fight through their fatigue and stay with him as he headed out to the nearby halo track and began doing laps.

They were aggressive as hell, and he thought he knew why Wilson was having trouble with them. They didn’t see the value in training, so they weren’t going to devote themselves to it. Furthermore, they couldn’t be tricked into it by the normal means…because these people weren’t normal. They were Furyans…sort of…and they needed a valid mission to throw themselves at, which Kent had just become.

And he knew now, that they would do anything for him. He could feel it. He could feel the connection like a weak battlemeld. They had a hive mind, of all things, which is exactly what Archons were not supposed to have. But the bond between the trailblazers must have morphed into the only similarity their genetic adaptation could fathom.

They were a wolf pack now, similar to the Elves only with Archon-level emotions pouring through them, and bodies that no other younglings had the advantage of having.

Kent corrected himself. Maybe this wasn’t going to be annoying. Tedious, yes, but now he was curious to see just how aggressive they could be…and just how much of the trailblazers’ legacy had translated through the reproductive process.

He sped up some more, intent on finding their breaking point and making the snap decision to treat them like mini-me’s rather than recruits. If his suspicions were right, they’d react to it in a very distinct way. If not, he’d know they were normies in high powered bodies.

He kept running until the first few finally dropped off, but they didn’t fall down. They kept staggering forward at a walk while their legs burned and their lungs gasped for more air. He kept in mental contact with them all, watching more and more fall off as a few found the strength to hang on minutes longer.

Kent kept going until all of them failed, then he sped up to his normal ‘easy’ speed and did a few laps, running by they as he instructed them to gather in a specific place, and stopping his laps when they finally did.

“How are you that fast?” another of them asked, still breathing hard.

“Didn’t the trainers show you how fast they were?”

“They didn’t show us anything other than their stupid drills.”

“Really? They didn’t show you how much better they were?”

“All they did was talk and fight.”

“How did they fight?”

“They won.”

“Easily?”

“We took a few down,” someone else said defiantly.

“They were going easy on you, and I was running easy just now. You have been born into an empire of some truly powerful people, and you must earn your way up the ranks. That takes time and effort. I will show you how, but know that those trainers were trying to help you, and you spurned them. I think I know why you did. You’ve got pieces of us mixed in that you can’t comprehend, and in them is a desire to do other things. You are the first of your kind, so we didn’t know what to expect. But I’m here now to see to you personally. I am your Master, and you are my Apprentices. You will learn from me and take your place in the empire, but you will choose that place. Not me. And you will have to earn it, or choose to simply live a bored, useless life that I don’t think any of you actually want.”

“We want to fight,” Samira said eagerly between huffs.

“I thought so,” Kent said with a smirk. “I will be hard on you, because you need the challenge. I do this to help you, not to hurt you. The universe is a hard place, and you must become strong to survive in it. You are safe here, and here you must grow strong before you go out into the danger. There is a war going on, and if we lose it we all die. It is a long war that will take millennia, and we intend to win. Whether or not you fight in it depends on how strong you get here.”

“Why aren’t you there?”

“Your name?”

“Darius Kerio,” the guy said.

“Darius, I have fought many battles in this war, and was doing other work to grow our empire when I was called here. Master Trainer Wilson is the man who trained me, and he should have been able to train you…but you would not listen to him. You foolishly disregarded the greatest teacher in the empire, but you did so because you have our tendencies encoded into you, without our wisdom. This is a dangerous combination, so I have come to make sure you get through these early years and learn what you need to. If you don’t, you will self-destruct in one form or another. I can feel it in you. You must act, and if the only action available is self-destructive you will reach for it due to the lack of other options.”

“I do not expect you to understand that now,” Kent continued. “Nor do I expect you to understand much of anything. But I want you to remember my words for later. Right now, you need food and water, plus some sleep. You have not been sleeping enough, and you are not trained well enough to handle the little sleep your bodies lead you towards. You have the wrong habits and must develop the proper ones.”

“How?” another girl asked. “Caitlyn Kerio.”

“Cait, I will show you everything in time. But be mindful of what you think and what you feel. You are a puzzle that you must solve on your own someday. I will help, but I cannot do it for any of you. It is a personal quest each of us have. I completed mine long ago. I am one with myself, and have conquered the War Within. Your war will be easier and harder than mine, and unique to each of you.”

“What war within? Kayn Kerio,” another guy asked, with them picking up the need to give their name without having to be ordered to.

“I will explain later. First food, then sleep, then some harder activity. Along the way I’ll give you tidbits before we get to that explanation. If I don’t, you won’t understand the explanation. You must learn other things first,” he said, waving them towards the right. “Go. You stink of newb. Get showered and eat up. You will need it for later.”

“Will you come with us?” Samira asked.

“Briefly, then I must do my own training.”

“Can we watch? Jinx Kerio,” another girl added.

“Not today. When you try and sleep it will feel different, because you need it. That is your current mission. Get going,” he reiterated, telekinetically pushing them all towards the exit as he crinkled his nose slightly. Their sweat really did stink of newb, and it would be a long time before that changed.

4

December 19, 154971

Web Wall Breach Point #6 (System 13)

Third Planet

Oni-081 tapped her fingers on the rim of her command nexus as she waited impatiently for the scout ships that were due back today. They’d been given a set number of days to go out and explore beyond the breach point, with orders to be back in this semi-safe system at the same time. None were back yet, and they were already a half hour overdue, and Oni did not like that. Scouts and couriers were typically prompt and knew how to plan out their travel weeks in advance to arrive at a specific location at a specific time…though interstellar travel wasn’t an exact science when you didn’t have vision of what was ahead of you.

The part of the Web Wall that was on the Coreward side had already been breached and a link of 8 systems traversed one side to the other. Oni was in the middle now, with her fleets moving out laterally to extend the breach and take down more of the heavily infested Hadarak systems while exploring beyond. Most of the systems on the other side had a Hadarak presence, but only minimal, with signs of past battle damage attesting to a culling effect taking place.

But not by the Hadarak. Someone else was culling them except in their heavily defended systems, with the Web Wall looking more and more like a Jurassic Park outer fence barrier to keep the dinosaurs inside. And it was those ‘dinosaurs’ that Oni’s scouts had been sent out to look for.

What was out there was partially known, starting with Kara-317’s scouting trip from years past, augmented by the detailed records in the Maty…but that still left a lot of mysteries to uncover, for there were so many star systems packed together into a smaller volume of space in the Core that it often looked like a chaotic bundle of yarn with so many intermixing gravity strands that you had more travel options than elsewhere in the galaxy.

You also had more obstructions and more movement of obstructions as the rotational speed of objects around the Deep Core gravity wells was far faster than that in the Rim. Nebula moved into and out of space lanes regularly, destroying ships that tried to pass through at multiple times lightspeed unless they had robust shielding or very good armor at slower speeds. But those openings and closings of the space lanes occurred over thousands of years, not days, while the Maty’s records were slow drips over the course of hundreds of thousands of years, so the state of the Core was largely unknown going into this invasion by Star Force.

The location of systems was largely known, and their movements calculated with decent accuracy, but each time a Star Force ship moved through any system geographical data was logged and added to the master map, with the routes the scouts were taking being new additions once they returned to this makeshift base of operations.

The planet Oni’s Borg vessel was sitting in orbit of was partially gone. The smooth sphere had a bite taken out of it, and even now the edges of that bite were crumbling and falling into the pit towards the planet’s center as gravity slowly worked to reform the sphere. What had been in the ‘bite’ was all Hadarak growths, all alive, and removing them was distasteful but necessary. Oni didn’t like killing them, but Star Force had found no way to ‘capture’ a living Hadarak growth, for they were essentially people whose bodies were buildings that would continually try and produce more growths and mobile combat units. They had to be removed, and this cluster had reached so deep into the planet they had to be dug out with Essence ‘dissolving’ weaponry, then have the ashes left behind siphoned out and into space or the nearby land where piles of them were the size of mountains.

The ones in space had been funneled into a waiting fleet of industrial ships that were harvesting the material for use in building more mobile infrastructure. They were from Clan Ghostblade, and were responsible for setting up the mobile base of operations here that was feeding the warfleets from local materials harvested and a continuous influx of supplies coming from the distant Grand Border and being carried across Hadarak territory by heavily armed convoys.

Every day that passed saw this broken planet and wrecked system put a little bit more into order, but Oni was not going to put down any fixed facilities. When the Hadarak counterattacked she didn’t want anything that couldn’t be moved, though right now the center of their breach point hadn’t been hit again, with the systems on the edge taking the counterattacks and turning them back with ease…but at a cost of drones and Essence that had to be replenished or the minion swarms would win via attrition.

Right now there was a fleet of mobile cites that Ghostblade had brought with them, along with shipyards and factories, that were being used a layovers for crews and specialists with enough flex room to accommodate for lost ships. That was rare, thankfully, but every now and then the Hadarak would hit one of the manned vessels and it would have to be evacuated. So far none had been destroyed with all crew dying with them, but if there was a sudden reversal of fortune Oni wanted options this far away from help, and she wasn’t taking any chances.

The trailblazer was horribly overextended here, but she refused to fight on the Hadarak’s terms or schedule. Clan Kai’sa was doing the hard, tedious work of removing the Hadarak from system after system along the Grand Border and holding them to prevent re-infestation. That would continue for millennia even if the war ended today and Star Force claimed possession of the Tethers in the Deep Core, and they were far from doing that. Rushing those high end gravity wells would be suicide for most of their fleets if they tried, and while the Neofan might not find that too high a cost for securing them and setting up easy ambushes for Hadarak reinforcements coming from other galaxies, Star Force would not fight that way.

They would have to get there eventually, but before then they needed to deal with the ‘neighbors’ in the Core that the Hadarak hadn’t been able to conquer, and there were rumored to be a lot of them, all Megaloids…though there could be anything and anyone hidden in the millions of star systems in here.

A ping caught her attention, and it was the notification of the system’s tracking sensors that a ship had entered on a jumpline on the other side of the system. It was one of her scouts, but it shouldn’t have been coming in that way…though the timestamp of the arrival indicated it had arrived 17 minutes before deadline, with the comm lag attributing to the time delay.

Soon there were more pings coming in from other jumplines, but none from the primary one that was deemed ‘safe’ ahead to the next link in the Breach Point. The transmission dumps from the ships occurred immediately, with a priority header grabbing Oni’s attention.

System 8 under siege. Unknown Hadarak units are encroaching on jumplines and snaring ships at high stellar orbit locations. Were forced to reroute through Hadarak systems.

Oni’s fist balled and she smashed it into the railing. She’d known her success here was too good to be true, and her lack of a comm grid being established yet was being exploited. She had received no couriers warning of trouble, yet the Hadarak were assaulting her leading system and she didn’t even know about it.

Oni mentally linked with the ship’s systems through the command nexus and began readying it for departure, as well as calling up some of the warships in the system…but not all…to accompany her to the besieged system as she began perusing through the scouting reports, with additional ones coming in with each scout ship upload into the system’s battlemap network.

Contact had been made successfully with two Megaloid races, and unsuccessfully with dozens more…meaning they didn’t respond as many didn’t due to translation issues. This area wasn’t safe enough to bring a Uriti in to try and talk to them, but apparently the Wranglers in the scout ships had been able to get through to a couple of them, and what they had to say was very curious.

They wanted out.

Apparently the Hadarak had been blockading them from leaving, but were unable to conquer them. They stated it was their magic that they couldn’t defeat, but they rarely used it on their probing attacks. Both races wanted to flee to the Rim to avoid the Hadarak, but were unable to because of the Web Wall…and they were asking for permission to pass through Star Force’s claimed breach point…

Paul stood in the bioharvest facility inside the Excalibur during a jump between star systems as Azoro was coaching him on making very small adjustments in his own production of the Saiolum. There was very little of it in the Excalibur out in the middle of nowhere between stars, which made the bioharvest facility the area with the highest concentration other than where the crew was, and Paul didn’t want to experiment on them.

The trailblazer was surging it inside him, then learning to direct where it went when leaving. He didn’t have good control over it, but was able to funnel it in certain directions with limited accuracy. He had about a 20 degree cone he could manage, and Azoro said that was enough to start working on his manipulation of targets.

Saiolum wasn’t just produced by biological life, it was used by it as well. It wasn’t needed, but could be used to enhance various aspects of a community network that Paul was now retrospectively realizing as Azoro let him in on more tidbits of information that clarified previous mysteries from past experience.

One aspect he was now learning was communication. It wasn’t telepathy, and it wasn’t Ikrid hacking, but it had aspects of both. Paul could, when focusing his own Saiolum, force it onto the plants and pick up a reflection of their current status. It was as if they were speaking to him and giving him status reports, but in a manner that was not mathematical. He felt them, as if a limited extension of himself.

And when they die you will feel it too, Azoro said in words, letting go of the mind meld teaching he was having to use to give Paul concepts that he didn’t have the words for…and words in Sha’kier that he didn’t yet understand. Be mindful about when you connect. You cannot do so permanently or you will go insane.

How far can you sense?

I can use other techniques to sense on the other side of the galaxy so long as there are connections the entire distance. It is not immediate, but I can feel ripples that damage cause, that growth causes. That moving creates. You are creating more than ripples, and that gives you a greater connection, but when you quiet your mind and develop the necessary sensitivity, you can see very, very far…but it is the past you are seeing.

Are you blocking out the war?

I have not tried to connect to any except Behemoth and you. The galactic ripples I must stay mostly numb to, though they are ever present.

Even now?

No. I hear nothing now, but if I open up I will still feel occasional echoes when we pass through another jumpline and intercept the flow.

How often does that happen?

Rarely except in the Deep Core. They are wide there, and the spacing is much smaller. Still, there are pockets you can escape into if you have a carrier. If not, you must live in the chaotic wash in the Saiolum, and if you cannot numb it out you will suffer forever in my position.

How long did it take you to learn how?

Fortunately that occurred before my banishment from the biological realm. I fear for any others that survived and did not have the necessary containment skills.

How bad do you think it could get?

Deeper into madness than I can imagine.

Could that be what happened with those in the Apocalypse Monsters?

I don’t know. They are an enigma for me, and the Saiolum around them is twisted.

How close did you get?

I came within a system, once, and felt the Saiolum diminishing around them so fast I fled on the first available carrier I could find.

The Apocalypse Monsters don’t create Saiolum?

That is a question I have not been able to answer. Consider it an ocean in a hurricane, and the current is sucking you into the storm as if the water level is receding inside it. Travel too far and you may never come out again. In my case, if the Saiolum disappears, I die. If the Apocalypse Monsters are the only source of it in the area, I will be trapped with them.

Can you hurt another in your current form?

It has never been tried.

You’re vulnerable, aren’t you?

When we created our second mind here, we did not anticipate attack from those who cannot affect this state.

Can they do something similar to what I am doing to harm biological life?

I fear so.

Can you?

If I can I do not know how. Builders don’t practice destroying.

Warriors do, so we know how to build proper defenses when an enemy attacks us. But we don’t practice on people. How could it theoretically work on plants?

I do not want you even attempting such things now in your current state. You know so little, and the path ahead is critical to your development, and not guaranteed.

How would it occur in theory?

Mal communication, or a deprivation of those lifeforms that require higher levels of Saiolum.

Wait, I thought you said we didn’t need it?

Another higher level lesson you seem to cheat your way into, Azoro said with mild annoyance, but also a measure of respect. We can craft plants that can use it to accomplish certain things, and even bodies, but they require it constantly or they malfunction. Natural lifeforms do not require it, but can be uplifted by it.

Could someone use the Saiolum to kill off a planet of lifeforms in order to silence it?

I fear it, but have not encountered it. Nor have the Sha’kier. But there are legends that infer it from races older than ours. So much knowledge is lost in the continual restarting of civilizations across the universe, that we are forced to relearn what was discovered before, and to make the same mistakes. I fear much has been lost, and is leaving us vulnerable to ancient enemies that have not been reset.

Where?

Dark places where I will not go. And one that I must brave along with you one day.

The system you told me not to go to?

Yes. It is your Dagobah swamp in reality. There the Saiolum has been altered. I cannot enter without being corrupted. Not without a body to secure me.

Corrupted how?

A sickness is felt when I neared it before. I had to leave before I understood more, but I came back several times, though I could penetrate no further. The aura could be a shield mechanism to defend the location, or it could be a perversion. I do not know.

How does the Saiolum become perverted?

Ripples are not always positive.

Then it’s the information that is carried, not the Saiolum itself?

Correct, but irrelevant.

Why do you need to go there?

To solve lingering mysteries, and to help prepare you for threats I have not yet encountered.

How long until I’m ready?

Not soon, but you are progressing faster than I expected. If you continue at this rate, before the Hadarak are fully dealt with in this galaxy.

You’ve encountered very little hope in all your travels, I suspect?

Depression was a constant until I found you, and you have not disappointed. If your empire is to fall, I will choose to perish with you. I have no wish to return to hopelessness. I am committed to your cause, for it is the last hope for my sanity to become stable. And you know what I mean, for you feel it as well. You cannot care for the galaxy without being torn apart in empathy with it.

I do understand that. And I sense you still think our odds are low?

The darkness will come for you, as it did for us, but you will draw more out, for you are truly lightside rather than merely allied to it as we were. There is no avoiding this fight, and in it many mysteries will be revealed. I would like to see what they are before I die. I would like even more to see you successfully defend this galaxy. Please continue to exceed my expectations, my young apprentice.

Paul smirked. Then stop holding back so much.

Master this connection technique and I will. Much of what I have not spoken of depends on it.

Challenge accepted, the Furyan said, returning his attention to the plants and feeling their ongoing photosynthesis.

5

December 23, 154971

Itaru System (Novunu Region)

Wendigama

“It’s been 5 months since I arrived here,” Kent said as the 100 Furyan younglings sat quietly in rows before him on vibration pads, having found out that the small movements were better at keeping their focus for instruction than normal chairs or the floor. “You were a mess when I got here, and you’re still a mess now. The difference is, you’re learning. And you want to learn. You’ve seen a taste of your possible future, and now it’s time to lay out the battlefield on which you will fight your most important battle.”

“That is the War Within that I mentioned earlier. Now you know what training is. Now you know how your body and mind responds to it…but you don’t know why. You have information without context, and it’s time to give you that context.”

“There are three parts to a person…Mind, Body, and Core. Your Body is your physical hardware, your Mind is the software that operates the hardware, and your Core is the pilot inside. Each of you are born into a Body, but you are not that Body. You are the Core inside it, and over time you may find that your Core doesn’t like all the aspects of your Body. Why? Because it doesn’t fit right. You don’t get a choice in your Body. You don’t get a choice in your Mind. You don’t get a choice when or where you’re born. You get thrown into the universe at a point of its choosing, but you 100 are damn lucky to be here, in Star Force, where it is safe. Others are being born into positions where they will die soon and there is nothing they can do about it. Star Force seeks to bring as many people into safety to avoid this, in order to give each person a chance at climbing the ladder of life, which we refer to as the War Within.”

“What is that war?” Kent said, pacing back and forth in front of the seated younglings as they wobbled in place, keeping their full attention on him while their bodies had to lightly fight the vibration to keep from falling off their 6 inch high pads. “It is the war between your Core and your Body/Mind. It is also the war between you and your environment. The battlefield is your Body/Mind, and it is set by your parents. Their genetics determine your starting equipment and starting settings. Some will be awesome, others will be problematic. Your Furyan genetics are superior to the Human genetics I started with, but within your genome are still problems. Things that the universe put there to keep you alive long enough to reproduce and continue your race. You don’t understand this, because you are young and you haven’t seen how bad it is out there, but inside you are instincts. Some come from me and my brothers, but others are default. How many you have I don’t know, but I expect there will always be some that you have to reset. One of those is the predator instinct.”

“Warriors are anti-predator, and perhaps you have inherited some of that anti-predator software from us, though if you have I haven’t seen it yet. Not all instincts appear in the beginning. Some have to be unlocked over time. But one constant throughout the universe is the predator instinct, and it tells you to attack and destroy your target. Another is the protect instinct, which tells you to attack another to protect a target. Some of that is useful, but if it doesn’t come with ethics then it is darkside. You will find various instincts that are not set to the lightside in you, and you must fight to readjust your settings both to the lightside and to customize yourself in order to match your Core.”

“Visualize a target with a central dot and 10 rings around it. That central dot is your Core. Your Core has many aspects to it, and only over time will you have a chance to discover who you are. I am a Warrior, not because of choices I’ve made, but because it is my nature. Not in my rings, but in my Core, and my Core has rewritten my rings to match. That did not happen fast or easy. My rings started out with the settings of my race and my parents, and I had to fight and conquer each ring starting with the outermost. It is Ring 10. The closest to your Core is Ring 1. Your outside ring, Ring 10, is the part of you that interacts with the environment. You are hearing me now through your Ring 10. Everything that happens in the moment occurs in Ring 10, and it is the easiest to change, and is always changing, often mirroring what is around you.”

“When you feel bad, that’s Ring 10. When you’re happy, that’s Ring 10. It occurs in minutes and seconds. Effects that last hours are Ring 9. A day, you have Ring 8. So Ring 10 is going to fluctuate a lot, and it will never be fully conquered. When you are in the presence of an enemy, they will affect you in Ring 10, and you will have to constantly reset yourself, or that effect will seep into Ring 9, and deeper and deeper. Everything you do or don’t do affects Ring 10, and when you have repetition, you create stacks. Enough stacks affects the next Ring. Be angry for several hours, and you add up Anger stacks, and not all the same. Your anger will occur in different ways, at different targets, but the parts that are similar will stack, and it is those stacks that affect your deeper Rings.”

“But when you make choices, you take actions, you also affect your Ring 10. And if you do certain things to create certain stacks, you can reprogram yourself from Ring 10 inward by controlling your environment. This is Training at its most basic definition. The boring things you do over and over again, like punching a target, create punching stacks that then affect Ring 9. Do it more during the day and you get to Ring 8 and it kind of sticks. Sleep and you reset your outer rings…but the stacks remain. Do the same thing the second day, and you start to make an alteration in Ring 7 by creating a software or hardware upgrade known as an ‘App,’ which is an old term for a very small computer program with limited function.”

“This is how new Skills are learned. This is how muscular adaptation occurs. Your Body and Mind adjust and adapt, learning from stacks. The more you feed it, the bigger it will grow. And once you have an ‘App’ created, it will run itself, or at least feel like it. It is an upgrade that allows you to do something with less focus, because part of it is automated or the physical requirements have been reduced by specialization. The first time you handle a weapon, you are clumsy with it because you have no App to run it. When you create a very basic one, your stacks feed it and it grows larger, more accurate, and more efficient. Once it grows enough it stretches out like a plant’s roots and reaches into Ring 6. When this happens, it becomes a ‘Program,’ and Programs that become a part of your everyday life will eventually reach all the way to Ring 1, such as running. We do this on purpose, to make running as easy and efficient as possible.”

“The deeper the Rings, the harder it is to remove Programs, or to change them, because it takes far more stacks to alter something in Ring 5 than it does to change something in Ring 6. So if you learn a Skill, develop a Program for it that reaches into Ring 4, then stop doing that thing…such as sword training. Your Ring 10 will blank after a few hours. Rings 8 and 9 will be cleansed after a good night’s sleep. Let several days go by and the piece of that Program in Ring 7 begins to deteriorate. This is what is known as becoming ‘rusty.’ If you completely lose your Ring 7 Program pieces but still have your Ring 5 and 6 parts, you can then regrow your Program from those parts if you start feeding it the necessary stacks. Because of this you can ‘relearn’ a skill faster than you can develop a new one as long as a piece of the Program is still within your Rings somewhere.”

“This is why we practice all our skills periodically. So we don’t lose our Programs. Now, why do you lose them? It’s adaptation. Why would we keep around Skills that we’re not using? Our muscles can’t specialize for all movements. We have to pick and choose our priorities. You haven’t started swimming yet, but when you do you will find the muscle adaptations are counterproductive to running. If you do both, you will get better at both, but not as good as you will get if you only train for one. That’s called ‘specialization.’ Now, if you got really good at swimming and wanted to switch to specializing in running, but your body wouldn’t let go of its muscle swimming upgrades, they would get in the way. You’d have extra muscle tissue in the wrong spots. So your Body gets rid of it, just like it gets rid of Programs you don’t need. And you tell your Body/Mind you don’t need it by not using it.”

“But some stuff is there permanently. They’re ‘Default Programs.’ Such as your Breathing Program. Now, you’re constantly using it, so it couldn’t be deleted from inactivity, but there are other things, like your Mating Program, that you don’t have to use. We don’t, and it seems the one you inherited from us is less active than the Human ones…but you still have it. And you will have it your entire life because it is a Default Program. Not something learned, but something that comes with your Body/Mind.”

“A lot of races have a Predator Program default, and if your Core is a Warrior this is a problem. You have to fight against this Program, defeat and deactivate it. Some things can be deleted, but most Default Programs cannot be. So you…all of you…are now inside your own 10 Rings, and those Rings have Programs already in them. They may not be good ones, they may be neutral ones that don’t fit you, and hopefully some of them are good ones you inherited from us. You have to go through them all, sort out what fits and doesn’t fit, and change what doesn’t. This is a war. It will not be easy, and many people never win the War Within. They are run by their Programs, their Instincts, and by the outside environment that rewrites their Programs via Ring 10 and creates stacks in them that they don’t even want.”

“Now, there is another way to change your Rings. I’ve told you about doing it from the outside in, but you can also change from the Core out. If you have a Default Program in Ring 1 that is incompatible with your Core, it will cause you discomfort immediately. You will sense a ‘wrongness’ that you can’t identify, but you can’t shake. Over time your Core will gradually erode that Program in Ring 1, diminishing it if not completely removing it. And in this way you can rewrite yourself starting at your Core and working out. You can do this intentionally by exposing your Ring 10, your Active Ring, to new things. When you find something that matches your Core, it will cause your Core to pulse, and that pulse will erode more in Ring 1, or 2, or wherever the blockage is. This is called ‘Calibration’ in the general sense, but these specific occurrences are referred to as ‘Sync Moments.’”

“You figure out who you are, in your Core, through Sync Moments. What is a Sync Moment for one of you will not necessarily be the same for the person beside you. This is because everyone’s Core is different. There may be similarities, and you may have the same ‘Class’…Warrior is my class, and your Body’s are Warrior Body’s because you inherited them from ours, but if your Core is not a Warrior then you will figure out who you are through Sync Moments when you find one, and when you do you will want to repeat it over and over. This will create stacks and will start reprograming your Rings towards matching your Core Attributes.”

“To win the War Within, you must completely own all 10 Rings. The stuff that cannot be removed, has to be deactivated. And when you don’t use it, it will pass on in a weaker state to your offspring, if you reproduce. You don’t need to, and we have your reproductive systems blocked for now so you can’t. Your priority right now is discovering yourselves and beginning the process of fighting your own War Within. Reproduction is something that should come far in the future, if at all. If you reproduce now, you’re just passing along the settings we gave you, without making any modifications of your own…more or less.”

“But your Mating Program will bug you to do so. It will make you feel a need, and in essence lie to you. Now why would your Body/Mind lie? Technically it doesn’t, unless there is a malfunction. There is a need, but it is not your need. It is your race’s need to reproduce. But it feels like it is your need. This is very confusing, and also problematic, because your Mating Program is incompatible with other Programs. That’s why it can’t be turned on constantly. So it will shut off, turn on, shut off again seemingly without your control. The only way you are going to understand this is by leveling up. The Mating Program is very strong, because the continuation of your race depends on it. Be thankful, yours is weaker than Humans’. And by ‘thankful’ I mean thank us, because we don’t use it and that has most likely reduced its grip on you.”

“Now, that could be a problem if we weren’t in a galactic empire and were just struggling to survive in anarchy. A lot of your Default Programs are designed to get you to do things you don’t want to do, and if your Core doesn’t have enough ‘Willpower,’ your Programs will run you. Willpower is a Skill, and it takes stacks to level it up. All of your Apps and Programs have levels. New ones start at Level 1, and adding new experiences…not just more identical stacks…levels them up. Running at a faster speed is still running, but it’s not the same movements. Your stride is longer, your cadence is quicker, so your Running Program levels up and gives you what we call different ‘gears.’ The more stacks you put into a gear, the more efficient it becomes. You’ve seen some of my gears, and in comparison, your Running Programs are probably Level 3 or 4. Mine is probably around 50,000. We don’t have a scanning device to measure the levels exactly, but we can get loosely close through other means to figure out where you are and are not.”

“Upgrading yourself is part of the War Within, but the necessary part of the War is conquering all our Rings. Even if you end up with Level 1 programs only, as long as those Programs are compatible with your Core, you are Victorious. If you conquer half, and upgrade that half mightily, you have not won the war, because part of your Body/Mind is incompatible with your Core, and you will continue to feel the conflict within you. When you are Victorious, there will be no inner conflict. Only conflict with the exterior environment as it tries to alter your Ring 10 through daily experiences.”

“This is why we keep you locked in Training, so you can figure out who you are easier than throwing you out into places that will rip you apart and make it harder, if not impossible, for you to improve and fight the War Within. We do this to help you, though it is frustrating. You want to go fight battles, not realizing the most important battle is and always will be, inside of you. The War Within is your first and greatest challenge, and it is also the prerequisite to many other awesome things in your potential future. If you can’t win the War Within, we don’t want you on other types of battlefields alongside us, because your internal conflict may trip you up and make you unreliable. Until you win the War Within, you will always be a Newb.”

“I don’t know how long it will take you, but fast or slow, becoming ‘One with yourself’ is the necessary objective. And the only way you figure that out is with Sync Moments. So as of today I am unlocking certain stimulation in the database for you to look through. Most of it is fiction that I and my brothers and sisters found Sync moments it, but there is stuff for non-Warrior classes as well. You may have been born into a Warrior Body, but we don’t assume your Cores are. Oh, and you can pick up additional Classes even if they aren’t natural, as long as they don’t conflict with your Core. You can’t be a Warrior and a Pacifist, but you can be a Warrior and a Healer. Or a Builder and a Teacher. There are many, and you can customize yourself as you wish. Including in bad ways. You don’t want to make yourself into something that is incompatible with your Core, and we won’t make you. But we will make you pick up some Skills even if you don’t like using them. Why? Because you might need them later.”

Kent looked around at the younglings, not saying anymore and trying to judge their reactions until one finally spoke.

“I don’t understand any of that,” Nami Kerio admitted.

Kent sighed. “I know you don’t. But telling you is the first step. Sooner or later you will experience something that matches a piece of what I said, then you will understand that piece. But if I don’t tell you ahead of time, you may miss the opportunity to learn in that moment. So you don’t have to understand today. You just need to remember. And if you forget, this is explained in far more detail in your data terminals, with the War Within content now being unlocked for you. You can review it later. Enough talking for now. On your feet. Time to get some more running stacks, then I’ll show you a little peek at your future. Something called Jumat,” Kent said with a wink, then he started jogging and making the younglings catch up, which required them to sprint.

Slackers would not be rewarded here, and as they all sprang up and raced after him, Kent saw that at least that lesson had already been learned…but it was going to be long journey before they got to the point where they could self-navigate their own lives.

6

December 26, 154971

Web Wall Breach Point #6 (System 8)

Cityship 18839

Nellie Vicorsa was a Human. Not upgraded into a Zen’zat, or Saiyan, or any other special version. She had been born on Corneria before it fell to the V’kit’no’sat during the first war when Star Force had gotten its ass kicked day in and day out. Nellie had survived, moving from planet to planet as a civilian, until she’d finally had enough running. She’d gone to a recruitment office and asked what she could do to help. That had started a long journey through maturias and apprenticeships as she developed into a weapons tech, and now she was part of the secretive Ghostblade fleet, though not a member of the Clan itself.

She’d been brought in to assist with weapons research as the Mastertechs came up with new versions of old weapons and occasionally a brand new one that they shipped out to the warfront for testing, but never in a battle where they would have to depend on it to survive. The weapons Nellie worked with here were all tried and true, but various adjustments could be experimented with to try and increase efficiency, and with the large amount of carnage that was required to battle the Hadarak, even a 2% adjustment to damage output against certain armor or minion types added up over the course of the very long battles this war was seeing. Thus, she had been sent with a few others to help the frontline fleet here tweak its weapon systems against whatever the Hadarak threw at them, with the possibility of encountering something new before the Mastertechs back in Star Force territory had a chance to analyze them.

And lucky her, Nellie had got a front row seat to a terrifying new Hadarak weapon. They had come into the system on the back of a Lurker along with uncountable numbers of regular warship units, along with some carriers that gorged out the smaller minion swarms. No Wardens had come, and it was guessed that was because of the quick movement needed to respond to the Star Force incursion, but the warship versions of their mainline ships were now known to house a secondary purpose.

Building materials.

Whatever it was the Lurker brought and deposited on the main jumpline back to the next conquered system killed and devoured every warship minion that came near it, growing larger at an astonishing rate as it spread out like a net that resembled a tree’s root structure. Star Force had tried to get to and destroy it, but it was surrounded with a fleet being fed from multiple jumplines. The Hadarak hadn’t even bothered to try and get at the Ghostblade fleet and the cityships. They went straight to the primary jumpline and camped out there as they sacrificed some of their ships to feed the thing that was now blocking the jumpline.

Several Star Force ships had arrived via that jumpline and missed the obstruction due to warning signals being sent out. The ships would veer off and corkscrew around the system to find enough gravity to stop, but once the new Hadarak net grew large enough the ships could not divert around it enough, and they hit. At first they tore through, shields down but survivable. Then as the strands grew thicker they took armor damage, until eventually they were destroyed on entering.

Several ships had tried to move around the net and jump from beyond it on a slow route to the next system, but they never made it. The Hadarak fleet guarded the jumpline as high as Star Force tried to take it, blocking the quick route back to warn the neighboring system of what was happening.

Before they could try again several scout ships returned from deeper in the Core, and the message was transferred to them as they veered off on other jumplines that would lead to heavily defended Hadarak systems that had not been purged of their growths yet, but if they kept their distance they could navigate around the systems. Until then, though, every Star Force ship that came through the jumpline wouldn’t have enough distance to divert and would continue to be destroyed.

And these were ships with people in them. Every time one came in, hundreds if not thousands would perish, and these were some of the best ship crews in the empire. All due to this system not being able to get a warning back in time to stop the flow of reinforcements that they badly needed, for the defense fleet in this system was being whittled down in terms of lost drones, while the cityships were trying to construct new ones from local materials. That was a losing game unless they could hold this location for a few years, and the Hadarak were pouring enough of their own reinforcements in that Star Force would eventually lose if they couldn’t open that jumpline again or go around it…but already four more growths were deposited on other major jumplines, with them gradually spreading out and blockading the system with the Star Force fleet still inside it.

The Avenger-class ships with them had already made an attempt at the net, managing to damage it with their Essence weapons as well as getting some information on its composition. It wasn’t standard growth material. Something was making it charged, so that when a collision occurred an energy current was sent into the colliding ship as well, enhancing the damage. Nellie was trying to work on theorizing what it was and how to better disrupt or damage it, but with more Lurkers entering the system the Avengers had to pull back into defensive position to protect the rest of the fleet, for without them the Lurkers could destroy every cityship here and most of the warfleet given enough time.

Right now it was a standoff, with Star Force trying to ambush some of the new arrivals while the Avengers patrolled like sharks daring the Lurkers to come in on the fleet. If they did, and were killed, then the Star Force ships could go back to probing the net, but for the moment that had to be left to the drones that were continually trimming down the enemy fleet numbers…numbers which were likewise being bolstered by streams of reinforcements.

The Archons in charge hadn’t given up on holding this system yet, but if they did they’d all have to run out a jumpline that wasn’t blocked, and they had a lot of options given how good their jump drives were. But every line back towards friendly systems ran through the Web Wall, and bringing their fleet through that was going to be gruesome. Better to stick it out here for now and let the faster scout ships carry the warning and plea for help back while holding position.

Nellie was running weapon adjustments through simulations while keeping an eye on the system battlemap as engagements were happening on and off constantly. A beeping caught her attention, for it was another incoming ship signaling ahead, and she knew it was going to be more of her fellow Star Forcers dying in a soon to be collision.

She didn’t want to watch, but somehow felt it would be disrespectful not to…then the Hadarak fleet around the net buckled under a concussion wave. Nellie didn’t understand what she was looking at first, then the tracking sensors referenced the now distant ship that had just blown through the net and was braking hard far from the enemy fleet, having passed through it in the blink of an eye.

Nellie glanced at the battlemap, mentally zooming in on the new contact to see if it was intact enough that somebody could have survived…only to see that it was huge, perfect cube.

And it wasn’t damaged.

The tech’s eyes went wide as the mathematical calculations she reflexively ran didn’t add up. That much mass colliding with the net should have torn a chunk out of the ship at least.

Exactly what kind of shielding did the trailblazers have on that thing anyway?

The Star Force fleet formations immediately altered, being called into battle as the Borg vessel eventually reversed course and headed back out to the intact sections of the net with the enemy fleet moving to meet it…along with two Lurkers that streaked in from the side at high speed trying to strafe the massive vessel…only to end up eviscerated by what had to be some form of Essence weaponry that Nellie wasn’t qualified to know the details about.

Their severed hulks flew past in chunks as the huge Star Force ship plowed into the clouds of minions and Hadarak warships and took the brunt of the battle as the local system ships raced in to help clean up what it dropped…then it got to the net and began to rip it apart with lethal efficiency.

Nellie really wanted to serve on one of those ships, or even to just visit and have a look at what they were packing inside. The killpower it was displaying was truly nuts!

Hours later the net was gone and the Borg vessel, named the Snowstrike, which was painted an apt pure white, began pulling debris out of the jumplane for a fleet of warships to follow on the next day. They made it into the system as normal, then the Snowstrike began going after the other Hadarak fleets and growths in the system as they worked to return it fully to Star Force control.

Nellie kept up with what was happening until one of the harvester ships got to the remains of the net and cut off a piece to bring back to her cityship for study…at which point she tuned everything else out and started probing the molecular makeup of it to see which weapons worked the best in destroying it.

For she had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the only time they encountered them. And if they started going up everywhere in the Web Wall, it was going to slow things down greatly unless she could figure out an easier way of destroying them before the Mastertechs could get a look at it and send something back…which would take a few years at minimum.

Oni was mad. Boiling mad, because this was largely her fault. She could have brought with her the mobile comm ships, big and bulky as they were. She could have waited a few years until more were built, but she’d wanted to hit the Web Wall as soon as the others did. A coordinated strike so the Hadarak couldn’t send all their reinforcements to one location. She had Ghostblade here to build interstellar communications equipment on site, meaning all she had to do was take and hold these systems long enough to get a proper comm network up and running.

And because of that choice, 38,291 people were dead.

All due to a new type of Hadarak that wasn’t in the Neofan database, and wasn’t in the Maty records. Either it was brand new, or they’d both missed it somehow. Either way the dead were dead and not coming back, and her gamble of coming a few years ahead of time…or pulling units away from elsewhere…had failed.

But there was work to be done, and there was no way to get the mobile units here. So Oni was going to have to hold these systems without a comm network and rely on couriers only. And she only had one ship large enough, and powerful enough, to break through one of those fully deployed nets…except were they fully deployed? If given a few more years to grow, would they become so massive even a Borg vessel couldn’t get through?

Possible, but the distance they were putting them at out from the star pretty much eliminated the use of the jumpline for the Hadarak. Their Wardens certainly couldn’t jump from the other side of it. Their Mainline warships maybe, at a creep of a creep. Oni’s ships could, if they wanted to go the slow route, and that’s what she was going to have to do for the cargo ships if a courier hadn’t signaled the all clear within a few days’ time.

She could work this, but her failure burned her into a seething rage that was not likely to go away any time soon. Oni had to be better than the Hadarak…much, much better…to turn the type of numbers required to win this war. And right now she’d just been made a fool of. She hoped the others creating breach points through the Web Wall hadn’t been caught off guard like this. If they had, they’d adjust like she was…unless they rammed it themselves without the Essence enhancement she had added.

The thought of losing one of them kicked her hard in the stomach, but her analytical mind found that to be very unlikely. And all of this was due to the fog of war without a damn comm network up and running so one system could talk to another!

But Oni wouldn’t dwell on the past any more than necessary to prepare for the future. She had a discovery on her hands, two actually if you count this new weapon. The other was the Megaloids wanting out, with the insistence that all they needed was to get through the Web Wall. The rest of the Hadarak systems were not an issue for them, and that could be a good thing or a bad thing. If she let them through, what would they do? Would they go chew out their own little piece of territory, or would they end up being an enemy Star Force would have to deal with later?

And did this new net weapon have anything to do with keeping them in?

Oni frowned. Megaloids were solid, starships were not. They had a lot of internal air space, so when they collided with something they bent, broke, and flew apart. A solid mass would behave differently…

Oni ran calculations for the Uriti against what was known of the net weapon, then ran Hadarak Wardens through. Both indicated that they could pass up until the strands got to a certain thickness, at which point the Yeg’gor would crack and the strands would act as a guillotine wire cutting through them…in theory.

The Megaloids the scouts had contacted did not have Yeg’gor. Their bodies were hard, as most spacefaring races were, but these net weapons would be much more effective against them.

But the first net had gone up on the wrong side of the chain of systems. It wasn’t to keep the Megaloids from getting through, but to keep Star Force from coming in and plug the hole in their Web Wall.

A response for them making contact with the Megaloids?

What was so damn important that they had to keep them bottled up in the Deep Core for? That didn’t make sense. There had to be some other factor in play she wasn’t seeing.

Why keep the big guys you couldn’t kill confined to the biggest gravity wells that you desired the most?

But therein was the problem. The Hadarak didn’t control the Hadarak. The Others did. Why did they want them bottled up?

Maybe they were more active in this galaxy than anyone had questioned. How had they been here when the Maty was discovered? And what had they been doing before that…

7

July 19, 154972

Itaru System (Novunu Region)

Wendigama

“This is enough to begin,” No’ru said, bending his Oso’lon neck down halfway to the floor to address Director Davis. “We can update the genetic profile over time as needed the same way we do the Zen’zat.”

“Wilson?”

The Human nodded. “I concur. We’re not finished, but the lower end genetics have been well documented and the training should be easy.”

“Hamob?”

“I think it best to field test this new variant in the primitive mode before attempting to craft the higher levels. Additional monitoring of the Furyans should provide information to that end that we do not currently have.”

“Vortison?”

“We could do a great deal more than we’ve done, but the risks increase as we continue to extrapolate. Two genetic forms should be more than enough for 50 years, correct?” the Mastertech asked, looking at Wilson.

“Probably. But with all the gene splicing I’m not sure how many traits are going to be present. If we wanted normal people to start with we would have used Human genetics. If we wanted them even more docile we would have gone with Ter’nat. Furyan is obviously too high end to train, unless you are Furyan. We’re going to have to work on that Battlemeld knockoff later, but it shouldn’t pop up in the genetic profile we’ve assembled here. My point is, with all the little bits and pieces we’ve woven in, they might train faster than expected. I’d recommend we put a block on the ascension trigger for now, and just let it sit if activated for a while. We can undo the block later with this first class. We need baselines first, and I can’t do that without having them to work with.”

Davis nodded. “I think we’ve exhausted all options on the base form short of trying it out. I just don’t want to get caught flat footed later with it requiring a lab to make the ascensions occur. You obviously didn’t. Why?”

No’ru sighed. “We had a long argument over that when we created the Zen’zat. It was decided that the first upgrade should be in a controlled environment rather than encoding the Ter’nat to upgrade on their own. There was a desire to remain in full control, and the idea of a rebellion gaining access to the higher genetics was too problematic. But after their selection, the Zen’zat needed to discover what was inside them. This discovery was part of their training, as well as a test. They did not find many of the psionics, but the ones they did were coveted prizes. Had it been a medical procedure it would have involved selections and unnecessary travel, else we allow the basic technology to be widespread in the empire. This was not wanted. So for many reasons we developed the ascension programming. As you discovered, the unauthorized breeding created some…glitches in the process. Potentially fatal ones. Since we are working with a hybridized genome, it would be wise to keep all ascensions in a controlled environment during the early history of this new race for safety reasons.”

“What did you mean by ‘flat footed?’” Hamob asked.

“I’ve lived through the destruction of my empire before, and I know it could happen again. If there is a doomsday scenario, we need any survivors to be able to ascend to the higher forms on their own, in whatever post-empire situation they find themselves in.”

“Then that’s why you requested the genetic memory.”

Davis nodded. “It is. And I don’t want it locked away requiring a med bay that doesn’t exist anymore to activate it. I’m going to defend this galaxy against all invasions, but we have to put in safeguards in case we get overwhelmed…again,” he said, looking at the two V’kit’no’sat who had been on the other side at the time. “Star Force can’t be allowed to be deleted. If we encode the basic tenets into this new race, as long as it survives, there will be a blueprint to rebuild it from.”

“If you wish a blueprint,” No’ru asked, “then I suggest we include technical data in different bloodlines that, when combined, will provide far more data than one person’s mind alone could hold.”

“I hadn’t thought of different bloodlines. I’d assumed we were going to use the same template for them all?”

“Visually, perhaps, but we can include coding that is different and will preserve itself through interbreeding. Such as the technical specifications of Tu’gor armor, or a Tar’vem’jic.”

“Or training programs,” Wilson added. “How much brain capacity would that require?”

“A tiny amount if we create dedicated tissue for it. It wouldn’t even have to be in the brain,” No’ru said, drawing on his experience in helping to create the psionics for the Zen’zat long, long ago.

“Legacy nodules,” Hamob said, coining the term.

“I like that,” Davis said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “We can also add coordinates to dead drops of technology.”

Wilson frowned. “You’re sounding like you expect this galaxy to fall.”

“The writing on the wall says it will,” Davis admitted. “I want this backup plan in place before we face that situation. Then we can fight it with our full focus rather than worrying about evacuating some of us to start over again elsewhere.”

“Sean…”

Davis waved a dismissive hand. “Worst case scenario, I know. I’m thinking well past the Hadarak war, assuming we win it, but the foundations need to be laid now.”

“You’re talking about a total defeat, and this new race surviving in the wild until Star Force is long forgotten and the Hadarak or whoever controls this galaxy goes back to normal stewardship?”

“I want that option. Which means nobody can know about this.”

“Most likely this race would be hunted to extinction regardless,” Hamob noted.

“You missed some Zak’de’ron when you tried,” Davis pointed out. “The galaxy is vast, and if even a few survive Star Force could be rebuilt.”

“And then suffer the same defeat again, only quickly because it will be recognized early.”

“Not all backup plans are for a foreseen eventuality. Many are for the scenarios you can’t imagine. I want this one encoded so it’s there. How much more time will that take?”

“I already have tissue designed for such a task,” No’ru admitted. “Adjusting to the layered genome will take a week at most. However, I will need the information to encode. It will be genetically locked, and therefore cannot be uploaded after conception. Unless you wish it to be?”

“Genetically locked is necessary. How much of a data limit?

“Irrelevant. Encode as much as you want and we divide by the amount of bloodlines necessary. The basic packet you wish each to have will be equivalent to the size of the tissue. If we need more, we grow more along the interior spine. That is the safest place outside the cranium.”

“What tier are we talking about?” Wilson asked. “Because if it’s 3 or higher we don’t have to worry about it now.”

Davis was silent for a moment. “Star Force isn’t something that can be built by ordinary people. It would require someone who has the skill to ascend, and that would also hide it further down the timeline if the doomsday scenario plays out. Let’s put it Tier 3. It can be added when the layered genetics are added, correct?”

“If it’s not supposed to operate in the first two Tiers, then yes,” No’ru confirmed. “If it is, and we impose locking restrictions, then it will be very difficult to alter on the first two layers. Zen’zat do not have to worry about this because they are forbidden from reproducing. To do so will gradually alter unlocked genetics to the point where you have operational failures. You could breed away the ability to ascend if the genetics are not locked.”

“Wait,” Wilson said, looking up at the Oso’lon. “Are you saying they can’t pass on adaptational changes?”

“Correct. Such changes would take place in their body, as normal, but not in their reproductive tissues. Those would be a copy of the base code, preserved there since conception. Once we get the template where we want it, we dare not risk alterations.”

“Why not?”

“Because it is a trade-off for their stability. The other races in Star Force will still be able to adapt and progress…or descend if they engage in negative activity. But this new race will be locked, and each new birth will have the same starting genetics as their ancestors. As well as the same appearance, with only a male and female version being different…up until their first ascension, and that’s when randomized characteristics will generate, but only from a pre-determined list we select, and as requested, those will be tailored towards their skillset.”

“I didn’t realize we were blocking adaptation,” Wilson said, disgruntled. “I don’t like that one bit. We’re capping this race at their starting position.”

“So it cannot fall,” Davis clarified. “And with the donors we’ve used, what are the odds it can be improved upon by the general population.”

Wilson leaned his hands on the holotable before them. “You’ve got me there. But any outstanding individuals that pop up won’t be able to pass on their traits.”

“Not outside a lab,” No’ru interjected. “We can still augment it in future updates, if desired.”

“So it’s a backstop? We can create a higher version if we get the right donors to add, and the individuals can still advance themselves, they just can’t pass it on?”

“Correct.”

“Alright, I’m sold. I’m just thinking of how far some of our races have advanced over the generations and how capping that would be wrong. But that growth depends on Star Force being intact and offering the right training ground for the individuals to thrive in. If this is our doomsday plan, then locking the reproductive genetics makes sense.”

“I don’t plan on it falling,” Davis said firmly. “But I would be remiss if I didn’t take precautions.”

“Hamob is right. If we go down, they’ll all be targeted and terminated. Probably all the Knight races too. So you’re gambling on a few falling through the cracks.”

“I also don’t want future generations watered down from our donors through slacker reproduction.”

“I thought we’d just turn off their reproductive systems the same way we have with the Furyans?”

“Not when we need a lot of them.”

Wilson stared at Davis for a moment. “I know that look.”

“Then don’t ask me until later. Much later. This is a puzzle piece I need to start growing. And maybe the Furyans will become another if Kent keeps working his magic.”

“I thought they were a dead end?” Hamob asked.

“For what we need, they are. But I get the feeling that youngling training is going to be something of a vacation for the trailblazers. Kent seems to rather like it, and they may very well start personally training an elite cadre for each of their Clans. That’s my suspicion, at least. I haven’t spoken to him about it and I’d prefer if none of you mention it. Call it a prediction on my part.”

“We are ready, aside from the week or so for me to add the Legacy nodules so they are present even if not filled in the base form,” No’ru affirmed. “All we require is your permission to proceed.”

“Do we have the surrogates here?” Davis asked Hamob.

“I have several thousand volunteers on a waiting list along with the original 100 still present on this planet. They were expected to have more births by now, but I’ve kept them busy with other duties while we waited on this project.”

“You kept Pages here and away from combat?” Davis asked.

“They have been compensated by being able to train with the Golden Knights stationed here, though they will be leaving soon. I’m told there is to be one final battle with the Furyan younglings to settle the score before they leave.”

“Kent’s idea?”

“Mine,” Wilson admitted. “A little Black Knight role play on their way out the door. The Furyans need an enemy anyway, and it won’t work to be one of the trailblazers, for multiple reasons.”

“How long until this happens?”

“A few months, give or take.”

“Sorry I won’t be around to see it live. Make sure you record it.”

“You’re commissioning this project then?” Hamob asked.

“Are there any final concerns?”

“There are always concerns,” No’ru admitted, “but given that we are starting with genomes that are quite familiar to us, I do not see many initial problems. Only adjustments to be made to smooth out the genome when it is put into a maturia environment. Of course, if you are planning for a doomsday scenario, there will not be a maturia environment…”

“That’s one thing we can’t plan for,” Davis relented. “Calibrate to the maturia as much as possible. If there are some scattered to the wind, they’ll have to figure out things along the way the same as we did. I just want to make sure they have some bread crumbs to follow.”

“I am not familiar with that reference, though I believe I understand your meaning,” No’ru clarified. “The Legacy nodules will provide this, unless you want some limited elements present in the base form as well.”

“I think we’ve covered that in the instinct coding sufficiently,” Wilson said, glancing at Davis for confirmation. “Too many bread crumbs and you end up with a map, and map’s don’t train troubleshooters.”

“Well put. We keep the base form as it is,” Davis said, looking at a schematic of the new body before him as it slowly rotated in place. “What eggs are we using?”

“Human,” No’ru answered. “The gene swapping is the least problematic and the growth rate should be nearly the same. Using Furyan eggs could cause unforeseen complications.”

“How so?”

“We still don’t know what triggers a Core to enter an embryo, and past experiments that have since been banned have shown not all races are capable of being implanted into other race’s eggs. I anticipate no problems, but Furyan eggs are structured to accommodate the faster growth rate, so we will not use them.”

“I thought the eggs were nothing more than a shell with generic start-up components?”

“Not entirely true. The start-up components are tailored to the body that will grow, and though they appear to be compatible enough to function, often they do not, for undiscovered reasons. So we must keep the eggs as close to the new code as possible. I do not foresee a problem with Human eggs. Furyan eggs would be an interesting gamble, but one I do not feel we should take for baseline purposes and for the sake of the individuals who will be born into the bodies. However, I could do some experiments with embryos prior to the development of brain tissue. That is the point when a Core becomes present…or so I am told by those with the ability to use Essence.”

“Then why does the egg matter?” Davis wondered.

“That is one mystery we never solved,” No’ru said. “The process is invisible, and what is invisible we cannot study except by inference.”

“What happens to the body if no Core melds with it?”

“No brain activity, and the rest of the systems degrade rapidly. Our bodies were meant to have a person in them, and cannot exist without one for extended periods of time.”

“There’s probably a lot in the old V’kit’no’sat database concerning that that I would not want to look through?”

“There is,” No’ru said apologetically. “It has been sealed for such reasons, per your previous order.”

“Back when I was born, we were told such ‘research’ was necessary, and it was the only way to figure out the truth. I’m glad we’ve put that lie to rest, but if this empire falls such lies and mythology will take over again. I’ve been looking through as much history as I can find in the Maty and from elsewhere, and the cycle has become clear. Civilizations rise, then inevitably fall back to the same tinder on which they first took flame. Nothing is accomplished and kept, and even the genomes degrade. Everything resets back to the ‘basic survival at any cost’ nature of the universe. We have to do better than that. Our story cannot be a one and done. It has to be a permanent change, and this new race will be the first piece of it…as long as they live. Yes, they could be wiped out, but if they aren’t, they won’t reset as far back as Humans, Era’tran, and Oso’lon will. They will hold their genetic ground.”

“I like the elegance in that statement,” Hamob offered. “And the victory inherent in it.”

“Not victory yet,” Davis cautioned. “We still have to do it. You have my permission to proceed.”

“We still need a name,” Wilson reminded him.

Davis looked up at Hamob’s T-rex head with sharp teeth and eyes that could see you even if you stood perfectly still. Jurassic Park had got that one oh so wrong. “Ground it is then. This is Project Terra. And they will be known as the Terrans. Let’s hope this one works, because if it doesn’t I’m out of ideas…”

8

June 1, 154975

Itaru System (Novunu Region)

Wendigama

Kent came out of his private training sanctum holding his head as the doors parted and one of the Furyans was waiting for him there.

“What?” he asked.

Samira frowned. “What did you do to your head?”

“Training drone got in a lucky hit.”

“I thought we had super strong skeletons?”

“There are muscles and skin on top of them that get damaged. You want something or just here to stare at my abs?”

Samira smirked. “Does that mean you’re taking your shirt off again?”

“What, youngling?” Kent demanded as he began to slowly walk down the hall.

“Sorry. I’m having trouble figuring out my class, but I think I’ve narrowed it down.”

“Go on,” Kent said, rubbing his forehead a few times before finally letting go.

“I know I’m not like you. I’m not a warrior. I can see that now. Your instincts are strong in me, but they don’t quite fit.”

“What does fit?”

“I can’t sit still. That’s as much me as it is you.”

“Well that’s progress. Anything else?”

“I want to do something that matters. Be active. Just not punching people.”

“Warriors do more than punch people, Samira. We figure out how to fight in order to accomplish something that needs done. That’s called a troubleshooter.”

“Can you tell me more about that Class?”

“It’s not a Class. It’s a Skill. You go into situations where you don’t have instructions, and you figure out what is going on and what needs to be done. Scientists are troubleshooters because they work with the unknown. Scouts are troubleshooters because they explore the unknown. Are you drawn more to the unknown or want to work with what is already known?”

“I want to learn from somebody who has already figured it out.”

“Sorry, but when it comes to figuring yourself out nobody can do that except you. But as for learning from others, that’s what Techs do. They study a manual, memorize and familiarize themselves with it, then they do as instructed. Better techs also learn to understand it rather than just blindly obey, but as long as you have good troubleshooting leaders you can accomplish a lot by following orders and protocols. Or is that too mundane for you?”

“Yeah, sounds like it. What else is there in between?”

“Security.”

Samira double stepped to pick up distance as Kent was suddenly walking faster than she was comfortable with, despite them being about the same height. “What do they do?”

“When people leave the maturia they are free to live as they wish in our cities. There are rules to follow, but as long as you don’t mess with other people you can pretty much do what you want. When you do mess with other people or break the rules, the Security Force are the ones who have to deal with it. There’s some combat involved, but most is keeping an eye out for trouble and responding when something happens.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad…do they ever go out into the galaxy?”

“No. They stay in place and guard that place. You want something that roams?”

“I want to see what’s out there.”

“Permanently, or just a one-time thing?”

“I guess what I want is adventure. Is there a class for that?”

“Yes. It’s called Adventurer,” Kent said deadpan sarcastic.

“Well, what exactly do they do?”

“They never know ahead of time. Anything routine or scripted annoys them so they keep moving around in search of adventure.”

“Is that a position in Star Force? Or a civilian thing?”

“It’s something I and most Archons also are, Samira. We like to see new things, new challenges, and go where the danger is. While we use the safety of the Empire to regroup, heal, and rest, we don’t like living in the protective bubble for too long. We feel we need to ‘breathe,’ and to do that we have to get out where there is no backup. No Security Force. Just us and the raw galaxy, where we have to survive by our wits, our strength, our skill, and sometimes just our luck.”

“What’s luck?”

“It’s a term we use when something happens and we don’t know how or why. Some people survive things they shouldn’t, and that’s called good luck. Sometimes people die from things they shouldn’t, and that’s called bad luck, but it also applies to non-lethal stuff. Odd stuff that doesn’t appear to make sense.”

“Is Luck a Class?”

Kent laughed. “No, and it’s not a super power either.”

“What are super powers? Are those different from psionics?”

“Just another term for them.”

“What’s a regular power then?”

“Punching,” Kent said as he finally got to a nearby shower facility and stopped outside. “Last question, unless you want to go in with me?”

Her eyes widened. “Can I?”

“No.”

She frowned. “That was a set-up, wasn’t it?”

“Now you’re learning. Last question,” he said, opening the door but not walking through yet.

“How will I know for sure what my Class is when I find it?”

“It’ll fit like clothes matching your body.”

“I’ve never had clothes that don’t match my body.”

“The Classes that don’t fit you will feel wrong. The ones that do will feel right. So stop searching for the right ones, and start eliminating the wrong ones,” Kent said, then walked in and closed the door behind him as Samira thought about it.

“Why can’t I go in there with you?” she whispered, stomping her foot once and walking off to find the others.

Two hours later…

“How we doing?” Kent asked Wilson as he walked into his office finding him studying training numbers, as was usual.

“No hive mind, but beyond that it’s hard to say with 3 year olds. They are a bit more focused than regular Humans, and they take to the training easily. The defiance of the Furyans isn’t there at all.”

“Shouldn’t be since you haven’t included our genetics yet. We picked a good name, didn’t we?”

“Very good,” Wilson growled. “I still don’t understand their defiance of me.”

“You don’t smell right.”

“Actual smell or telepathic?”

“I know better than they ever will, but our bodies changed more than it looks. There’s something subtly different, and it’s hard to remember until we’re around the 2nd gen. They seem like kids now, but they haven’t changed. We have. You don’t have the ascended vibe, despite being able to kick these younglings’ ass easily.”

“I thought that would have generated some respect.”

“Rather the opposite. They instinctively know they should be better, and it frustrates them when you outdo them.”

“Really? I hadn’t picked up on that in their emotions.”

“I’m afraid that’s probably a side effect of us being so competitive. We were expected to be the best, and when we weren’t it didn’t leave us happy. That’s how I can see it, even if it’s not obvious to them, let alone you. I can see a couple puzzle pieces and figure out the entire puzzle, because it’s similar to mine. You can’t, but then again you probably know these Clones better than I ever will.”

“The Terrans haven’t disappointed yet, but it’s too early to declare success. Genetically there are no problems, with is one worry eliminated, but I don’t want to start a second class yet.”

“How much more time do you need?”

“Give me another two years. That should let me chart the deviations enough to ballpark their latter years. If they stay in the zone they are now, I can handle any unforeseen complications. Your younglings are Tasmanian Devils from the get go.”

Kent smiled. “And somehow I’m proud of that.”

“I don’t like having someone I can’t train,” Wilson admitted. “It vexes me to no end.”

“About that…” Kent hesitated. “I don’t think we should abandon Project Furya.”

“Oh?” Wilson said, leaning back in his slightly padded chair.

“They’re not going to be the glue we need in the Empire. That’s clear now. And they also can’t intermix with the other races. They’re too volatile. Where the Oso’lon are too big and might squash an Urik’kadel by accident, the Furyans could do the same with temperament. But if we isolate them the way we have the Knight races, we might be able to groom some heavy hitters with a higher volume than there are Archons or Mavericks.”

“Not if I can’t find a way to train them.”

“I’m working on that. I’m getting to see from their point of view what it is to be me without all the experience, and I’m learning fast. I think we can do more than just help these 100.”

“You know I’m always game, but if they instinctively won’t listen to me, how do we get around that other than permanently assigning one of you to instructor duty?”

“I’ll figure it out, then let you refine it. I haven’t got the smell worked out yet, but they know there are things they can only get from me, and what you had them trying to do was for people less advanced. There’s an undercurrent for them that must be present, otherwise it’s a waste of time.”

“Any general ideas what it is?”

“Purpose. You gave them training, without telling them what for. We always knew what for. What had the threat of the V’kit’no’sat…” Kent said, cutting off as Wilson smacked his hand into his face.

“I am so stupid,” he said, standing up and beginning to pace around the room. “I was assuming they’d be versions of you now, not the Human yous from the past. If they are wired more to match the people than the body, then I know where I screwed up. But how do we give them a new V’kit’no’sat? How do we give them an empire to build?”

Kent’s head twitched. “By giving them an empire to build.”

Wilson locked eyes with him. “Go on.”

“We built Star Force as Humans. These Furyans know nothing but what we teach them. So what would happen if we gave them a planet and told them to build their own version to help us in the battles to come? Make them do it from near scratch?”

“That depends how much like you they really are.”

“If they come up with even one thing new we haven’t already figured out, it’ll be worth the investment. And they might come up with several new angles.”

“A fresh start,” Wilson mused.

“And an adventure,” Kent added. “That’s what training here doesn’t give them.”

“But how do we replicate that for millions more?”

“By replicating it,” Kent said with a devious smile. “Empire building will be their collective training, or more precisely, colony training. We isolate them until they succeed, then they join the larger Furyan empire all with a little trailblazing experience as default.”

“Not good enough,” Wilson said, pointing a finger at the taller man as an idea hit him. “We need an enemy and a black knight. Something they can actually tear up, so we make an army of drones that periodically try to destroy their colony and capture them, similar to the little surprise party Davis arranged for you guys a while back.”

“I remember vividly,” Kent said, referencing the sucker punch they all got at the beginning. “We make them beat it to graduate. That’s one hell of a different type of maturia.”

“It’s not a maturia, it’s a praxium. That’s why they hated it so much. They need a praxium, and need to chart their own course to achieve it. Not be given one. I should have seen this earlier.”

“You didn’t realize that’s how we were trained, because all the Archons that followed were products of maturias.”

“And that means if the second gen reach Furyan level, it might be a very different offshoot of the race…or maybe a completely different one. The Neofan have different bloodlines, and this could be the reason why.”

“So we need to build a giant game to teach them inside of. Good thing we chose Itaru.”

“I’ll get Hamob started on it. He thinks like a V’kit’no’sat, after all. Best to have the enemy as close to yours as possible. But we need to see success with your group before we try another. A lot of success.”

“As long as I’m here that won’t be an issue. But I will need to give them assignments on their own eventually. Right now they’re still very needy and calibrating off me. Something we didn’t have.”

“That might be wise to retain, in some small form for all classes. After all, these are not Archon material individuals. They may need that first push to get going.”

“A lot to explore and experiment with.”

“And a lot of pitfalls,” Wilson warned, “but this is starting to make sense to me. They’re equipped for tasks Humans are not, and that basic ability will yearn to be used.”

“Leave Davis out of the loop on this one…for a while at least. I want to give him more than a bunch of unanswered questions.”

“I’ll let you explain it to him when you’re ready. But I need Hamob involved now so we can start building.”

“You’ll be ready before they are. They’re constantly going off course, and I have to bring them back into alignment, but I’m seeing uptake in spurts. I think a gelling is coming. Until that happens we can’t implement the ‘throw them in and learn to swim on your own’ teaching method.”

“You weren’t there the first four years, Kent.”

“But they’re not us then, they’re us now put back then. We’re going to have to write this from scratch.”

“Provide as many scratchings as you can. I think I know where to start, at least as far as basic challenge courses go. Something in the multiple day variety.”

“Good. They’re already starting to need field trips. The sooner you can get those set up, the better.”

“If you want to modify an existing one we can have it up within a month.”

“No. We need a lot, because once I start them on it, they’re not going to want to go back without another on the horizon.”

“Point,” Wilson admitted. “I think I have an idea…”

Two years later…

004 ran up to one of the target balloons suspended above the floor a good two meters…which was twice his height…and aimed up at it. His rifle was heavy and hard to move, but he got it tilted up enough to fire the stun bolt.

The balloon slightly changed color, meaning he had to shoot it some more. He got off three more shots before his arms grew too tired and he had to drop the gun…which hung off his body due to the shoulder strap he had on.

“I got it,” 029 said, plodding up beside him and firing two more shots, after which the balloon turned a glowing blue along with an audible ‘ping’ meaning it was finished.

“Thanks,” 004 said. “Next one.”

Together they jogged/walked forward carrying their heavy weapons and worked on the next balloon together as the other 8 classmates in this challenge were working on more balloons, too many for them to get done in time, but how many they got determined their score.

004 got through three more balloons with his friend, then his little arms got so tired the gun tipped to the side while aiming up and he accidentally fired into 029’s face.

The little guy dropped hard, smacking into the softly padded floor, and 004 shouted “No!”

He knelt down next to his unconscious brother, who had the same face as him. They all did, except the girls, who had their own face. “I’m sorry,” he said, beginning to cry as a drone flew over them both.

“Invalid target,” it said, then 004 was picked up in a force field and flown over the tops of the balloons to the penalty box. He twisted his head around as much as he could, looking back at his friend as another drone came to get him. He’d wake up, but no penalty box.

004 was dropped inside a closed room, with the ceiling opening and shutting after he was set inside. It was lit with red light strips and had no visible door. Just a wheel with a hologram of a tiny woman appearing to tell him what to do.

“You messed up,” Cortana said, “but mistakes are to be learned from. You’re now in the penalty box to give you some time to think about how you messed up so you can figure out how to not do it again. Turn the wheel and the meter on the wall will rise. Get it to the ceiling and you will be let out. If you need to sit and think, that’s fine. You determine when you get out, Spartan.”

The hologram went away, and 004 sat down on the bench inside and put his head in his hands. He hated the penalty box. He hadn’t meant to shoot 029. His arms were just too tired. And now he had to use them to turn the wheel.

He sat and cried for a couple minutes, then remembered the last time he was in here. Crying didn’t get him out. Turning the wheel did. And he didn’t want to stay in here any longer than he had to.

004 stood up and went over to the wheel, turning it in short bursts until his arms burned, then he sat back down again to let them recharge.

An hour and a half later, he successfully got the meter to the top and let himself out…

Davis read the brief but thorough report from Wilson as he sat in his office atop Atlantis. Project Terra was yielding better initial results than hoped for. The splicing of genetics from various donors had succeeded in eliminating a lot of the anarchy of youth. The Terran younglings were energetic and focused on their training, as well as having a camaraderie that surpassed normal Humans. They were already a year ahead of where a normal maturia would be, and their learning rate was higher than most races in Star Force. But most of all, they were stable…giving allowances for them being only 5 years old.

Wilson was recommending they proceed with additional classes on a regular basis and set up permanent maturias to handle them as he troubleshooted this class’s progress going forward and tuning their training as necessary as he wrote the protocols the Terran maturias would use indefinitely. All he needed was Davis to sign off on it.

“Qapla,” the Director said, using the Klingon word for ‘victory’ as he confirmed the request. He knew there was a lot of work to do on their higher forms later, but this base form was the foundation for it all, and he knew Wilson was not the type to exaggerate good news.

“Now we have a fighting chance,” he said, looking at his hologram of a galaxy floating near his desk. He expanded it out until 18 galaxies were showing, knowing that was premature, but where they would eventually have to go.

“Tah pagh tahbe.”

9

January 23, 154980

Nequi System (Grogu Kingdom)

Masstina

“What’s wrong?”

Jax-064 turned around, having been distracted enough with the message from Kent-076 that he didn’t sense Elena-309221 walk in.

“Your ninja skills are improving,” he said as his apprentice walked up beside him as the holographic text hung in the air before them just in front of the bank of observation windows…real ones, for they were on planet and not in space.

“Something I’m not supposed to see?”

“Too late now,” he said with a smirk. “Keep it a secret.”

“Scouts honor,” she said with a quick two fingered salute to her temple just below her short purple hair line. “But there is something wrong. Your aura screams it.”

“Why can I never keep my telepathy in check around you?”

“Too many battlemelds, I’d guess. We started sharing a little automatically whenever we’re together. Heard it happen to others. Now what’s wrong?”

“We have kids.”

Elena frowned. “Who does?”

“The trailblazers, or if you want to be specific, Kerrie and Rio.”

“She actually got pregnant?”

“No. No mating either. A maturia class of 100, using our Furyan genetics in an attempt to create a superior race to act as a spine for our too fast growing empire. That’s where Kent went, and why he left us with twice the work to do.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“You never do. The younglings wouldn’t behave at all, and Wilson was personally teaching them. They sent for Kent, and ever since he got there they’ve been different. Better. And he’s been keeping me up on progress. This time a lot of it.”

“Wow. How is that bad?”

“The project was a failure. If one of us has to personally teach them, there can never be enough of them for what we need. Davis and Wilson then went to Plan B, and it’s been more of a success than expected. They’re only 8 years old, and pretty much Human, but their temperament and tendencies reflect their hosts well. They’re called Terrans, but we refer to them as Clones. They all have the same genetic template, same face, except there’s also a female version.”

“The Grand Army of the Republic?” Elena scoffed.

Kent swiped a finger across the holograms a few times and brought up still photos of several of them, each with different haircuts and tattoos giving them a bit of individuality, but every one had the same chiseled face that was too familiar.

Elena’s jaw dropped. “Boba?”

“If we were going to do Clones, we had to do them right.”

“But…who’s the donor?”

“A mix of people. Vermaire, Davis, a Canderian named Esna, a Commando called Iceman, a Pilot named Jinam, and the legendary Ironnsey. The Select Six they’re called.”

“None of you?”

“Too potent for now. The Clones have layered genetics, the first time we’ve tried it. Meaning they have a transformation awaiting them if they achieve the ascension trigger. There’s only one programmed in now, but there will be more added later, all the way up to Furyan. Our genetics will be added then, once we have people who can handle the power.”

“And your ‘kids’ can’t?”

“Not without a lot of training wheels and hand holding. Kent thinks he can make something of them, but never in the numbers we need.”

“I don’t get that. Why do we need a special race when things are working fine now?”

“Davis…working ahead as always. He’s trusting in us to win this war, and he’s planning for the next one?”

“We already got one booked?”

“Seems so. Kent just filled me in on it. Seems they expect this galaxy to fall the way our territory did to the V’kit’no’sat, unless we preemptively strike.”

“Who?”

“Not who…what. The theory is this galaxy will be the target, and will get hit from multiple angles at the same time or will be a succession of targeted attacks to wear us down over time. The Others are only a piece of the puzzle. And we have sources of information I haven’t told you about, so don’t ask. We know there’s more going on on a larger scale than the Hadarak. And Davis thinks we got one shot to survive.”

“Proton torpedo?”

“I wish it was that simple. He says we have to go out to the other galaxies and take the fight against the darkside there. We conquer or we die. And if we travel beyond the Milky Way we can’t take very many people with us. We’ll have to use the local races we find.”

“So no Human colonies?”

“Too much baggage. And too few Archons and Mavericks.”

“So the Director went and created a better race out of our top non-Archons? And why Ironnsey?”

“To give us a refinement that only lot of training can produce. The Clones’ genetics will be locked for reproduction, so when they get laid and have kids, they come out exactly the same. No updates, no downgrades. They will be born the same everywhere, in all the galaxies. They will be the common link.”

“Ambitious,” Elena said hesitantly. “So why are you bummed?”

“Who said I was bummed? You asked what was wrong.”

“Same thing, and you still haven’t answered.”

“We protect a lot of people, Elena. And more keep flooding to us,” he said, pointing out the windows before them where far down below the tower they were in were a variety of ships landing on a huge pad so wide you couldn’t see the end of it all the way to the horizon, and each of those ships were from races that Jax and Elena now oversaw from other galaxies, with this planet being the capitol for the offshoot factions they were grooming. “We put ourselves between them and the danger, but there are too many to shield if we get overwhelmed. Do you have any idea what the carnage would be like?”

“If what?”

“If we’re all busy fighting and other enemies slip in and these people have to fight for themselves? Imagine if we’re all fighting the Hadarak and the Neofan decide to invade, more than just House Atriark. What if all of them decided to hit us while the best of us are tied up elsewhere. How would our worlds do?”

“Far better than they would if we had never trained them.”

“Don’t dodge. What would happen?”

“They’d win against low to medium enemies…but get beat by the higher end ones.”

“The more population we gain the more we have to defend, and even our highly administered worlds are packed with population.”

“With limits built in.”

“But still far too much to evacuate.”

“You told me you went through this before, when the Vargemma wrecked Earth.”

“And I feel it worse now that Davis is predicting it. He doesn’t exaggerate to make a point.”

“Too many enemies to fight, not enough time?”

“Why are you always so chipper?”

Elena shrugged. “No fun being a downer, so if things are going to go bad, might as well not be brought down with it.”

“He knows we can’t protect them anymore. Not from a group attack against us. And the biggest help we can be is by leading from a place like this,” Jax said, gesturing to the room. “The days when we could turn the tide in single combat are long gone. It’s almost a joke. All these powers we have. And they’re useless for the war we’re going to have to fight. It’s going to depend on the masses, not the Archons, taking action.”

“But that frees us up to do the special stuff that nobody else can do.”

“But that stuff won’t stop a stampede.”

“What kind of threats are you expecting to come from another galaxy? Won’t they be limited in what they can bring here?”

“Are the Apocalypse Monsters limited? Now imagine a dozen worse than them, all lining up to take us on. We’ve grown so big we can’t put ourselves at the front of all the fights, and now Davis is saying our only hope is to grow bigger.”

“I don’t see that as a problem. More of a blessing.”

Jax squinted at her. “How?”

“By taking some of the responsibility off our shoulders. You want a few Spartans holding a pass against an army by themselves, where you can employ your single combat skills, or battlemeld. If the V’kit’no’sat beatdown we took is going to happen again, you’re not going to be able to stop it from starting by standing up front and blocking it. But once the chaos erupts everywhere, we will be able to go to a planet and single handedly turn the tide of battle while the rest of the galaxy doesn’t even know what’s happening. If comms go down, everything becomes local and small again. And in those dark times, Archons will shine the greatest.”

“But it’s our responsibility to stop those dark times from happening.”

“Have you ever been able to?” Elena countered.

Jax gulped hard. “Against some threats, yes.”

“And the big ones?”

“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m the apprentice?”

“Because your sour ass needed a lecture. Lucky I was here,” she said, raising her chin and turning her attention to the windows and away from him.

“Easy, snips,” he said, drawing a grin from her, for she’d always seen Ahsoka Tano as her personal hero. “You’re right that we’re at our best when things are at their worst. But our job is to prevent that from happening, if possible.”

“But you crave it. You want to be needed again, as the Master Chief on Halo or Neo in the Matrix. Reclaimer work has its charm, but there’s nothing as fulfilling as cutting up droids with a lightsaber, right?”

“We all want that. But our duty is to go where we’re needed the most.”

“Temporarily.”

“Doesn’t feel like temporarily. We’re fighting against enemies that can’t be conquered or captured, only killed. That’s not our way, and we’re being forced to fight it. And then what? An even bigger war before we can catch our breath? Eliminating the Hadarak from this galaxy will take a very, very long time.”

“Ok, someone really needs a vacation,” Elena declared.

Jax crossed his arms over his chest. “Kent’s fault for bailing.”

“Yeah, let’s blame Kent,” she said sarcastically.

“Fine, then where am I going wrong?” he said, turning to look at her directly, with her abandoning her gaze out the window to match his eye line.

“You need to let go.”

“Of what?”

“The Mantle of Responsibility. Star Force can take care of itself now without you being personally responsible for every single life and outcome. Enjoy the success, and realize that other people can fight too. Help them become better, but don’t tie yourself to their fate. Don’t let them be your Padme.”

“You think I’m going darkside?”

“I think you’re losing your focus by trying to be the puppet master rather than just being you.”

“That’s kind of what Reclaimers are, little one.”

“Temporarily,” Elena emphasized. “Then you walk away and let them handle their own end for a change.”

“I’m trying to stop the fall of the Jedi Order here, and you’re suggesting I just accept it and fight to my fullest in the war to follow.”

“How would relaxing hurt you?”

“Same way a day off would.”

“I said relax, not stop training. How about you trust in your Apprentice on this one and go visit Kent and your mini-mes? You’ve done the hard work here, and I’d like the challenge of finishing up on my own. Save you the effort and gives me some more experience.”

“You read to the bottom, didn’t you?”

“Yeah I did. Go play with your kids and get us some heavy hitter reinforcements for this war to come. I can handle things here. As can other people elsewhere. You go do what only you can do. We’re a team. Start acting like it. You’re varsity, not the coach.”

“Who is the coach?”

“Davis, and he’s setting up a game plan for us to follow. He’s kind of smart. You might want to start trusting in him rather than feeling the need to check his homework.”

“Then why do I get the feeling that if I ease up someone will die?”

“Probably because in the past that was true. It’s not now. We’re an Empire. And we’ve grown strong enough thanks to you that we’ve got your back this time.”

“How long have I been like this?”

“Since we met, only it’s been getting worse. Today you’re totally brooding.”

Jax sighed. “It’s hard to be depressed around you.”

“I know. It’s one of my powers.”

“Maybe we should clone that one,” Jax said, waving a hand at the scores of ships out the window. “All yours.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Don’t screw it up…for their sake,” he said, turning around and taking a step towards the door.

“Would I ever intentionally? Would any of us?”

“Figure of speech,” he said, not turning around.

“Get a new one.”

“Keep this up and you’ll get your own Clan. Then you’ll be the one brooding.”

“Why not give me yours and save you the trouble?” she asked as he walked out of sight.

Elena turned back to the window and clasped her hands behind her back as she looked out at the workload before her.

“All mine now,” she said with a grin. “Time to repaint...”

11 months later…

Jax arrived in Itaru unannounced and let himself into the Temple where Kent said they were attempting this crazy project. He interfaced with the first terminal he came across and got the layout, as well as the current location of both the Terrans and Furyans, with him deciding to check out the latter first.

He headed over to their wing and into one of the training centers where he could feel their presence at a distance. It was an odd sensation, sort of a constant hum of activity in his telepathy that didn’t match anything he’d encountered before, and the closer he got the more intense it became.

The trailblazer walked towards a set of closed doors that opened automatically on approach, pulling apart laterally to reveal a training chamber where the younglings were doing sparring drills against each other in pairs, holding a simple padded stick that was long enough to count as a double blade.

They continued for a few seconds, then everything died down and they all turned to look at him…and feel him, as he could feel them, and he wasn’t even trying to.

“You’re another one,” one of the males said, dropping his stick and running over to him. “You’re like Kent.”

“Only better looking,” Jax quipped as he soon had a crowd gathering around him, though he could feel his brother behind them all. “Well, you’re all tall enough to be Furyans, but you’re so scrawny. What’s he been feeding you?”

“A lot of cardio,” Kent said as the younglings parted to let him through. “Glad you came.”

“I got kicked out, actually.”

“Who’d Davis put in your place?”

“I put Elena in my place.”

“You get a lecture?”

“Set myself up for a good one without realizing it. She’s quite eloquent when she wants to be.”

“Well they’re not. Can barely string three words together,” Kent said, drawing looks from the Furyans.

“Did Jared come with you?”

“No, I’m here alone. Didn’t know how long this would take, and he was ready to cut his braid off anyway. He should be in the Core by now.”

“And you think they’re a bigger priority?” Jax asked bluntly.

“The potential is here. If they can rise to it. The prerequisites are damn high though, with no training wheels. That’s why we had to go with Project Terra. Our bodies are just a bit too high charged for the average Joe.”

“How many of those do we got here?”

“All of them, before I showed up. Seems they needed an example to follow. Now they’ve got two.”

“Are they any good?”

“No. But neither were we at their age.”

Jax looked around at them and their eager faces. He felt like a rock star surrounded by groupies.

“Well, what now buddy?”

“Can’t spar with myself,” Kent said with a smirk. “Let’s give them a little demonstration as to what it’s supposed to look like,” he said, telekinetically grabbing one of the dropped padded sticks and tossing it to Jax while summoning another to himself.

“Stand back, younglings,” Jax said, with them immediately scurrying out of the way. “The entire room just became our sparring ring.”

Kent spun his stick around with ease, then took up a pose with it tilted down at an angle with the back side rising above his head. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Take notes,” Jax said to the group, then he lunged forward and started a flurry of attacks so fast it took the younglings nearly a minute for their eyes to adjust to the speed, but when they did they drank in the experience, every moment a precious drop, with their heads moving this way and that in sync as the two trailblazers moved around the room engaging each other in what looked like play, but with furious blows that broke Kent’s stick after only 6 minutes…with him grabbing another and continuing where they left off as the two veterans enjoyed the opportunity to have a real sparring partner that wasn’t a drone.

Half an hour into the ‘demonstration’ and both had completely forgotten about the onlookers as they danced around the training room with liquid grace until they upped it to Saiyan mode, after which the younglings could not keep up as the two turned blonde and moved so fast they both became a blur…followed shortly by two more broken sticks.

10

January 28, 154980

Solar System (Home One Kingdom, Star Force Capitol)

Earth

Director Davis paced in his office, as he often did after sitting for too long, reviewing information as it came in from across Star Force. He had some displayed in holograms, others in walls of text, while some he took on a direct mental feed that he could manipulate and browse while distractedly walking around.

Right now he was reviewing 4 different recent data dumps simultaneously, switching back and forth seemingly at random…but it was never random. The man had a method to everything, and a system that let him keep track of it all. That system included priority rankings, with a brand new message coming in that immediately got shuffled to the top of the stack.

This one was from Ariel, someone he hadn’t heard from in a long time. He’d given her a chance at an ambitious project of her own choosing, doubtful that it would succeed, but he’d expected to learn quite a bit from the failure. Today he was going to learn something even more important.

Neverending Seas is now predation free. High maintenance required, but the oceans are now calm. The darkside can be defeated, Director. Those born here are now free from its trap. I await your next challenge.

Davis saw a hefty data packet came with it, and when he mentally opened it his office filled with schematics, maps, detailed microbiology, and mental frameworks. It appeared to be all of her notes without an easy summary…which he didn’t need, because he would have requested the raw data anyway, which she had just given him.

Neverending Seas was the name of the star system he had given her, full of water worlds, some 26,000 years ago. And from the data she was showing him, they were all moderately to heavily populated with creatures ranging from the advanced to the primitive…and she was claiming they all now lived in some form of harmony without the predatory instincts many were born with as default.

No, she had gone much further than that…and hadn’t updated him on her biggest success. Ariel had somehow found a way to hack into the instincts and rewrite them into the purpose of maintaining the planets they were on. Every creature had a task born to them, large or small, and they were drawn to it rather than to self-preservation at all costs.

That was dangerous, but he also saw that she kept and modified the ‘run away to live another day’ instincts as well, keeping the best parts and modifying the rest. But the basic kill or starve to death instincts were now obliterated from the genome of thousands of races, making them dependent on the system she had created to survive.

Without that system they’d all die. Every last one. But she stated it was better to die lightside than to live darkside. Davis agreed personally, but taking away that possibility for others, many of whom could not even talk, was a bold step. One he had wanted to take himself, but he could never see a way to make it work. The oceans were somewhat different, which was why he let Ariel experiment benevolently, but she seemed to have no qualms about interfering with the natural genetics.

Davis was always wary of it, and sought to upgrade through training and infrastructure. But what Ariel had done went far beyond that.

As Davis was reviewing the information that would have encompassed several bookcases if put into physical form, he ordered a starship be made ready for his immediate use. If Ariel had really done this, he needed to see it for himself, for he still didn’t believe it was possible without causing massive unintended problems.

Yet Ariel was certain, and hadn’t reported in until she had a lengthy history to document.

“My little mermaid,” he whispered to himself as he absorbed the treasure trove of information she’d sent him. “You’ve really worked your tail off this time.”

Steve-004 was still kicking himself for losing so many ships to the Hadarak blockade trap, now two years after it had happened and he’d extracted his vengeance on the Lurkers who’d laid it…not to mention backtracking the biotechnology to where it was being produced. One very exclusive planet beyond the Web Wall that now was reduced to char after his fleet got through bombarding it from orbit.

He couldn’t take control of it, not so far from his little oasis of systems, but he didn’t want it regrowing anytime soon, so he left behind a few ships with a Wrangler onboard, and with that Wrangler were Uriti minion seeds that began to grow an army of biological drones.

They’d slowly spread across the planet, searching out any last bits of Hadarak infrastructure or survivors as well as defending against a light incursion. A moderate assault they couldn’t handle in the near future, but given enough time they’d grow large enough and strong enough to defend the system…if left alone that long. And if they weren’t, and they were all destroyed, that was acceptable, for they weren’t people, other than the Wrangler and the few ships that could leave when needed.

Right now Steve was back in his 13 systems trying to reinforce them with local materials harvested from the corpses of the destroyed growths and what was left of the planets as he kept the conduit through the Web Wall clear for his ships to move through, as well as for others to come out of the Core and into the rest of the galaxy that had been denied to them.

Three races had been brave enough to request passage, and since they were enemies of the Hadarak he had let them through while tagging some scout ships to follow them and see what they did. Once outside the shell of heavily infested systems surrounding the Deep Core like a prison wall, they traveled a few weeks away from it, then picked a system they liked and invaded it. Killing all the Hadarak there, more or less, while spending most of their time in the star or stars in the system, for they were Megaloids and not planet-dwellers.

When asked why they wanted passage, they told of many horrors in the Deep Core, and how only those strong enough to press back against the Hadarak were able to survive there. They were tired of constantly dying and reproducing more to die in the never-ending war. They wanted to be free, and didn’t seem to consider the high level of Hadarak troops on this side to be an issue…which made Steve wonder what else the Hadarak had further in that would make this war zone look preferable.

He still didn’t have comms up yet between the systems, so all the Megaloids passing through had to be escorted by some of his ships. There was a light, but constant train of spacefaring lifeforms the size of ships passing through this system in spurts so common now that he barely noticed it. One thing he’d learned about the Deep Core was that it was teeming with high populations, so he expected this conduit through the Web Wall to be busy indefinitely. He’d even got one of the races to leave guards here to help defend the passageway, and they were camped in and around one of the gas giants should there ever been a need to respond to a Hadarak counterattack. Other than that they kept to themselves and didn’t interact with Star Force, and Steve liked that arrangement just fine.

He’d been gathering up enough reinforcements from the Grand Border that he was nearly ready to leave and assault another neighboring system, widening the passageway through the Web Wall a bit more, with him camping out onboard his Borg vessel as it went through final refueling from a long train of tiny cargo ships in comparison to the 327 mile wide mass that had everything they’d seen so far in the Hadarak fleet outclassed.

A comms alert interrupted him during training, with him flying out of the water course he’d been swimming and through the hallways until he got to a nearby holo terminal, for another convoy was coming through, but they were escorting only three Megaloids, and they weren’t that big. Only a few miles long each, but these he’d never seen before in the Deep Core. He’d only heard about them in stories.

Steve pulled on his uniform shirt that he’d grabbed on his way out of the pool as his flagship drifted its way around the central star towards the point where the three newcomers had just ended their interstellar braking maneuvers not far from here. He could have delayed and gotten to another part of the ship, but the fact that they were here now instilled in him a need to know why immediately, for never before today had the Veloqueen made contact with Star Force, let alone been spotted in this galaxy.

Steve accessed the ship’s systems, linking to the main comm lines and queried the escort ships as to how the Veloqueen were communicating. They responded with the common language of the Bond of Resistance, and not the more esoteric telepathy that the Megaloids were known for.

The trailblazer linked to those language files and input them into the translation program, then hailed the three Veloqueen as they got within range for realtime communication, identifying himself and asking why they were here, for they had told the other ships only that they needed to speak with the leader.

“Steve-004. I am Harkeem of the Veloqueen. State your purpose here.”

“We are here to begin taking the Core of the galaxy away from the Hadarak,” he said flatly.

“Why are you letting the Heidoor pass?”

“They requested it. Should we not be?”

“Where are you sending them?”

Steve frowned. “We’re not sending them anywhere. They asked to be let through the Hadarak perimeter defense systems, and we’re letting them through. They go where they want afterwards. We watch them, and so far they’ve not traveled far, and are claiming systems from the Hadarak for their own use.”

“What arrangement have you made with them?”

“None. We informed them of our distant systems and they said they would respect them. Other than that, we have no arrangement. They want out, we’re letting them out. Is that a problem?”

“You seek to dominant this galaxy, correct?”

“We do.”

“What will you do with the Heidoor if you succeed?”

“Our intent to dominant the galaxy doesn’t mean we own all of it. If they behave themselves we will have no need to fight them. We can coexist, as we do with the Uriti already.”

“You control the Uriti through genetic command. You do not have this command over the Heidoor here. They are a threat to you.”

“We’ll worry about that after we deal with the Hadarak. It’s a big galaxy, and there’s no reason to keep them bottled up in the Deep Core if they want out.”

“What does it gain you to allow this?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why have you done so?”

“Because they asked,” Steve said, almost stupidly. “If there is a problem, state it please.”

“Why do you not see them as a threat?”

“They haven’t attacked us. You seem to suggest we should.”

“The power base in the Deep Core is far greater than the rest of the galaxy. The Heidoor are superior, and many will seek to destroy you.”

“I figured that might happen. But we don’t know who will or won’t until they act. These have asked nicely to be let out, so I’m letting them out. If they end up on our doorstep and try to take our systems away from us, then it might be seen as a bad idea on my part, but we’re not keeping this Hadarak perimeter defense line intact. We’re going to destroy it, and we have no intention to replace it. They’re going to get out sooner or later, so when they asked I just chose sooner.”

“So you choose to kill them after the Hadarak while hoping they will ignore you in the present?”

“I hope we don’t have to kill them. You state that like it’s expected.”

“Socani and Heidoor have long warred against one another.”

“Not here. Not with my empire. The Uriti are our allies, not our servants. We’ve had some relations with other Heidoor, all peaceful. We don’t eliminate others who are powerful because they might attack us. We only fight those who do attack us. In this way we let others determine whether or not they want to be our enemies.”

“Then you will never fully dominate this galaxy.”

“Yes we will. By being superior, not by being the last empire standing.”

“This is not the way the Neofan claim dominance, and you are their apprentices.”

“Ah,” Steven said, starting to see where this was going. “You are mistaken. We are NOT their apprentices. They are sharing information we do not have, particularly about Essence, in exchange for being allowed to live in our galaxy. They are here with our permission, and they must stay in the three Temples allotted to them. We have an arrangement. We do not take orders from them.”

“They claim you are their apprentices.”

“They lie,” Steve said bluntly. “And as for apprentices, one belonging to a Veloqueen named Dogoroth is dead. Do you know of this?”

“We do.”

“We have claimed the races he was storing away for battle for ourselves. Is this a problem for you?”

“They are Socani. You may do with them what you wish.”

“But you don’t like us having Heidoor, do you?”

“We have never met, Steve-004, but we have observed from afar. No Uriti has died in your service. You do not use them to fight Hadarak. You claim this is not good for them, and keep them far from the war to produce Essence for you. When others attack Uriti, you protect them. When others attack you, Uriti protect you. We do not understand this relationship.”

“We are lightside. Most people do not understand it in a galaxy that is consumed with killing each other. The Uriti are our wards. Their protection is our duty. And our genetic command is used as a safety precaution in case they do something that endangers us without realizing it. If they want to take a bite out of a planet and we’re on it, they can kill us incidentally. We rarely have to use the override now. They have learned to live with us, and us with them.”

“You cannot do the same with the Heidoor here. You cannot control them.”

“We will find a way to coexist if they are willing. And if they seek to kill us, we will fight them to end the threat. So far they have not attacked us, and I find this an indicator that coexistence is not only possible, but preferred.”

“The Neofan would counsel you otherwise.”

“The Neofan are inferior when it comes to such things.”

“Only three civilizations have defied the Hadarak in the Core of their galaxies. The Neofan. The Denogi. The Veloqueen. You are attempting to be the fourth, but you will not join the Bond of Resistance. Why?”

“It seems the Bond of Resistance is wanting to join us. Many of your races are establishing colonies within our Empire. Can you tell me why they want to?”

“None are safe, for they do not inhabit our galaxies. They live in the shadow of the Hadarak always and seek to ally with power that can shield them.”

“Wait, they aren’t in your galaxy, or the Denogi’s?”

“They are not.”

“You don’t let them in?”

“We share the space between, but we do not trust them to be amongst us. We have a common enemy, and that binds us together, but only so far. We must keep distance between us, or we will fracture from infighting.”

“And you enforce this distance?”

“It is part of the Bond. Cooperation, but respect for each other’s territory. We built the Temples so they would have a place to flee to when needed, and not to our galaxies. It has preserved them and allowed them to survive in the shadows while we live in the light of our galactic Core. Now you seek to claim this one, but you allow the others to come here?”

“On our terms, but yes. Should we not?”

“There is much danger in this.”

“We are well accustomed to danger. What you are suggesting sounds more like paranoia.”

“The Neofan and Denogi are Socani.”

“As are we,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Neofan are now killing all Heidoor within Yenoiv. There is blood on the stars. They will dominate by bringing all into their service, and destroying any they do not wish to do so. They always kill Heidoor. They always bloody the stars. Denogi killed all Heidoor in their galaxy long ago.”

“Did you kill the Socani in yours?” Steve asked grimly.

“No. They serve us, so they cannot become a threat. Heidoor here will be a threat to you if you do not kill them or bring them into your service.”

“The truly dominant do not fear strength,” Steve quoted, “for they are strength. Only the weak seek to destroy the strong out of fear, and this is an admission of inferiority.”

“The Neofan claim you are their apprentices, and that they hold ultimate dominion over this galaxy.”

“They do not now. They will not later. This is our galaxy, and we will protect all within it that do not make themselves our enemies.”

“If the Heidoor do not attack you, you will allow them to own the Deep Core?”

“Not all of it. We will need to be there to guard the Tethers and other key locations for security. And I assume there will be some Heidoor that are threats and refuse to coexist. We will have to deal with them in some form or another, but I hope we do not end up at war with all the Heidoor. The three that we have let pass here suggest there is potential for coexistence.”

“Such things do not usually last, Steve-004.”

“Why are the Hadarak keeping them in the Deep Core?”

“So they cannot increase their territory further. They will destroy them when they are able to do so.”

“What did this galaxy look like before the Hadarak came? Were the Heidoor everywhere?”

“We do not know of this galaxy, but we know of others. Heidoor and Socani do not coexist. Socani hunt Heidoor, while Heidoor destroy Socani…but the lifesprings return Socani again and again. No galaxy can be without them.”

“But they can be without Heidoor?”

“Heidoor only emerge from central spring. Never anywhere else. If central spring is taken, those new emerging are killed before they can multiply.”

“Do the Hadarak do this here?”

“No. Existing Heidoor must be destroyed before central life spring will replace them. Too many Hadarak Heidoor will not allow for more to come even if all others destroyed. Only lack will draw more from the spring.”

“Will the Heidoor multiply until they fill the galaxy?”

“Some will, some will stabilize their population. Others will fight each other.”

“Why were the Hadarak able to remove the Heidoor from the Rim but not the Deep Core?”

“The strongest are here. The weaker go where there is room to travel.”

“So why do the strong want out?”

“The Hadarak are slowly winning control of the galaxy. Those Heidoor here will not survive in the Deep Core forever. They must flee it to survive. This is distasteful, but preferable to death.”

“Are there none that can stand against the Hadarak?”

“We are the only Heidoor that have effectively done so. Others are obstinate and will not yield, but they cannot take back systems that are lost. They must fight the never-ending war, and if their strength wavers, they lose territory. Eventually they will succumb, for the Hadarak grow stronger over time as they assimilate more races into their genetic legacy.”

“We are not going to kill the Heidoor,” Steve promised. “And I don’t care what the Neofan say. We’re not going to tolerate any who do, including your support systems for the Temples. We’ve already stopped them from slaughtering tiny Heidoor in the Rim. Why do you allow that?”

“We cannot control the Bond of Resistance. Only our own galaxy.”

“So why are you here in ours? And how did you get here? I thought you didn’t travel on the portal network?”

“We travel via the Tethers, Core to Core, but we use the Portal system within this galaxy to move about when needed. We do not use the intergalactic portals. The lack of gravity makes us sick.”

“You got past the Hadarak guarding the Tethers?”

“The Tethers are massive gravity wells. You cannot blockade them. But you can kill those who enter, for many can lie in wait for those that come in gradually. We are faster than the Hadarak, so we can move through them and destroy any in our way. They cannot stop our movement, or that of a few others. Most die attempting to pass from one galaxy to another who are not faster than the Hadarak. Yet many still try. Perhaps they do not know what waits for them. We do, and we are here to monitor the Heidoor in this galaxy.”

“We were told you do not want to fight the Hadarak in other galaxies, but that the Neofan do. Is this because the Neofan will kill all the Heidoor in them?”

“We do not tolerate the Hadarak. We also cannot tolerate those who destroy Heidoor.”

“Then why are you in an alliance with them?”

“If only Veloqueen resist the Hadarak, we will become their sole focus. We may not survive in that situation. But the Bond of Resistant spreads their attacks amongst us, and by surviving we help each other by drawing off resources that otherwise would be used against us.”

“As the Neofan did by helping us in this galaxy.”

“Was that your initial agreement?”

“There has only been one agreement. And it is with House Atriark only. We would draw the Hadarak’s attention here while they claimed a new galaxy and gave Atriark a refuge where they could evacuate all their people rather than having to leave some behind that were forbidden from going to the new galaxy. Are you trying to help the Heidoor here defeat the Hadarak?”

“That is our concern and not yours. But their wellbeing is of importance to us. As is that of your Uriti. We request to speak with them.”

“There are none here,” Steve said, not sure he liked that idea.

“We know. There are portals nearby we can use to travel to the Rim. Will you allow us to speak with them?”

“If you attack them we will have to defend them against you.”

“We only wish to speak to confirm what you claim.”

“And if they confirm it?”

“Then we will make our own arrangement with you.”

“To what end?”

“To help you claim dominance over this galaxy in exchange for allowing us to live here amongst the Heidoor.”

Steve blinked. “Are you in jeopardy of losing your galaxy too?”

“No. We wish to expand, but not at the cost of the deaths of all Heidoor.”

“There would be conditions. If Dogorath’s apprentice is symbolic of the way you operate, then we will not be able to come to terms.”

“We approve of your lightside, Steve-004. What we seek now is to confirm whether it is real or a guise to hide your true nature. The Uriti will tell us this if you allow us to speak with them in your hidden locations, and they will also tell us if it is truly possible for Heidoor and Socani to coexist. If you have lied, there will be no repercussion from us. You will simply never encounter us again.”

“I’m not lying,” Steve said firmly. “I will take one of you there. Not all three. Just in case this is a guise to hide your true nature. Others have tried to harm the Uriti, and we take their security very seriously.”

“One will be sufficient. And we will supply the Essence for the travel. Please do not bring your large vessel. It will not fit.”

“How far away are these portals?”

“They go from the far Rim all the way to the center of the galaxy, hidden in locations the Hadarak cannot find. There is one 19 jumps from here that I will show you, and you may use it for other purposes later if the Uriti confirm your words.”

“Very well,” Steve said, feeling like they were on the verge of a breakthrough. “When do you want to leave?”

www.aerkijyr.com

Reignor

1

Date Unknown

System Unknown

Hadarak-occupied planet

When the Hadarak took over a world, they killed everything they came across in the way of animal life. Sometimes smaller rodents would escape the purge if the Hadarak did not have their tinier forms in production that could actually catch and kill them, but in general, once a planet was fully ‘consumed’ there would be no lifeforms on it except Hadarak.

The plants were irrelevant, but were slowly taken for resources as needed. The entire biome would be replaced with a Hadarak one, for the Hadarak had to eat as well. They had to breathe, travel, build, and reproduce. They could be sent to a barren, rocky planet with decent atmosphere and begin digesting the rock and sand, from which they would grow biological structures that would produce other molecules that were necessary. Those would then build different structures, and so on and so on.

Some Hadarak growths were capable of alchemy, which was the loose Star Force term for changing one atom into another by rearranging the subatomic particles. Nature accomplished this on its own through a variety of means, foremost of which were gravity wells. Under intense pressure subatomic particles would realign into less ‘inflated’ states. The Neofan referred to this process as Do’sho’bu, translated as ‘the shifting.’ Each time there was a shift the new atom became more dense than the last one, such as two hydrogens combining into one helium. When this happened the volume decreased greatly, because you now had one nucleus instead of two, and the halo of electrons and photons around them were now reduced as well into one slightly larger version.

But two smalls reduced into one slightly bigger version meant not all the photons could stay inside, thus they were squeezed out…and that photon squeeze was what gave stars their ‘burn’ and planets their internal heat generation. Over the eons the atoms inside would get more and more dense until they hit a point where they could lose no more. At that point the stars would grow cold, for no more heat could be squeezed out of them, and the same was true of planets…but the journey to get to that point would see many element changes along the way, with the new material being circulated up to the surface through volcanic activity of various types.

Thus the surface of a planet, or the upper regions of a star, would see a wide array of atoms that had not existed there before while the excess photons were shot off across space, filling the vacuum of the deep with their spread out heat.

When this happened, the lifesprings would sometimes replace the dead stars with new ones, but such occurrences were rare. More likely the void dwells would venture into a galaxy to consume the ‘dead’ material. What use they had for it was unknown, but the Pafdreng were known to also consume them during their purges of lifeforms.

But gravitational crunching was not the only form of alchemy. Some plants and bacteria also accomplished this on a very small level, using the photons thrown off by stars to do the reverse and split denser atoms apart, or shift one neutron into a proton, or the reverse, creating elements essential for many plants to use that were not already present in the bedrock. When these plants died, they left behind their few alchemy results that other plants would then absorb through their roots, thus very slowly creating a biome in the form of dirt that contained far more compounds than the bedrock below could account for.

Old planets had thick dirt layers. Young ones had thin or non-existent ones. Airless worlds had nothing other than sand worn away from the bedrock by abrasion. The planet Plausious was on had plant life on it long ago, but half of it had already been consumed by the Hadarak, sucking out the various compounds the bedrock didn’t offer rather than using their biotechnology to create it if enough soil and vegetation was close by.

Fortunately for him there was a section of the planet they had barely touched, focusing instead on consuming and reshaping other parts first. At the moment he sat on the branch of the very large trees in one of the few remaining forests deep into the heart of a massive desert that the Hadarak seemed to not want to venture into. The forest was fed by subsurface springs that seeped water up from below…water that was a byproduct of the planet squeezing atoms into other atoms, with the extra subatomic particles being released to recombine with others where able, and all under immense pressure that brought them up to the surface whenever a crack formed to relieve that stress.

Plausious had not found this forest early on. In fact, he had been placed on the other side of the planet in the heart of the Hadarak, per his request, in order to combat them. Then the Reignor had been betrayed and abandoned on this world, his only means of escape destroyed by the warship that had brought him here as his people simply left him behind in enemy territory.

He had assumed he would die, and with that knowledge he had found the courage to fight on longer and harder than he knew he was capable of, desiring the challenge of the carnage instead of succumbing to despair and letting his enemies kill him without making them earn the kill.

And somewhere along the way something in him changed. He didn’t know when, or where, but it had been early. The long days blurred into an uncountable, never-ending stream. He had no way to tell time here, for the technological garments he had arrived with had all succumbed to the damage of combat and were eventually discarded. Plausious now roamed the planet in the nude, which he found was oddly acceptable. His reproductive organs were internal, hidden behind a bone flap that stayed shut until needed, unlike many races that had them hanging on the outside of their bodies in a vulnerable position.

As for warmth, it wasn’t an issue in the middle of a desert, though it had been during the winters he had spent elsewhere. Plausious had to use every Essence trick he’d learned…as well as creating a few new ones out of desperation…to produce heat inside him, as well as to craft crude clothing out of rock, sand, dirt, bone, or anything else he could find. None had worked well, but they had kept his body from freezing through the worst times. Though every time he was forced into combat with the Hadarak the clothing would not last the opening engagement.

Food was scarce in the early going, with him having to eat corpses to keep himself alive. Fortunately his digestive systems were capable of filtering out all…or most…of the bad molecules in the corpses. Molecules that were not meant to be food, but without Neofan technology to assist him, he couldn’t pull out the various toxins and trash that any biological body accumulated, and he was forced to eat everything at once in order to stay alive.

Fortunately, on this desolate world, there were many Hadarak, and all were trying to kill him…so his supply of corpses never ran low. He never had to kill one in order to eat, merely eating the corpses that were a byproduct of combat. That would not have meant anything to him in his past life, but the distinction was crystal clear now. Eating of the corpses was disgusting, but not darkside. However, if one did so willingly it was a slippery slope, for a corpse was a person’s private Temple. Their Core resided in it up until their death, and that vessel should be accorded the respect of what it was. It was not food, nor meant to be. And when a Core was within it, the body was the person, which made eating someone alive one of the worst offenses possible.

Thankfully his bloodline had never indulged in such things, but other Neofan had. Eating smaller creatures whole, at least the ones that would fit inside their mouths. He had seen it as a personal choice of distaste back then. Now he saw it for the horror that it actually was.

Plausious adjusted his position on the branch with his feet partially curling around it to maintain a grip on the mist-slicken bark. Pain was an indication that something was wrong, and the excruciating pain of being eaten alive attested to the wrongness of it, even if you could not understand it. Seeing and feeling that pain in others should have been a signal not to do it, but the Neofan had grown apathetic in a sickeningly subtle way and allowed such things. Those that disagreed did nothing to stop those that indulged in such barbarity, citing it as a difference of opinion.

How could he have ever been so blind?

The short span of time he’d spent with Director Davis was what now sustained him. He remembered nearly every word that had been spoken to him, and in his isolation he had learned a depth to the meaning of that instruction that he had not foreseen at the time. Davis had asked him to remember what was said, and thankfully he had done so. Now those memories were his guide as he delved deeper and deeper into the mysteries of the lightside, and he knew now why Star Force would fight wars to stop strangers from eating other strangers. It was a crime against the universe when it happened, and it begged to be stopped. Those who could sit by and do nothing amicably were deaf to the injustice of it. Or worse.

Davis had told Plausious that his own vision was limited, and he could not understand why people would knowingly do evil. Mistakenly do so he could comprehend, but not knowingly, and now the Reignor shared his dilemma, for it was so obvious to him. The universe had a structure, unspoken rules that some called a ‘code of honor,’ and the basic instincts of all were calibrated to it. That was why you cringed when you saw another person get injured. Why you were irritated when someone cheated, or lied to harm another. Harm was at the center of it, but Plausious understood it to be more a violation of the necessary order. Things were meant to be one way, and when they were not, that wrongness screamed for correction.

He could not hear it before, but now he could, which seemed oddly ironic. Here, where he had to kill Hadarak on a regular basis to stay alive one day to the next, he was more in tune with their lives than he had ever cared about before. He saw the Hadarak as victims, enslaved into a war machine not of their own making. That didn’t change the threat they posed, or the fact that he had to kill them, but he now saw that killing was not the way things were supposed to be. It was a wrongness…or the means to eliminate the wrongness. Killing was never right, or natural, or preferential, or pleasurable. It was a violation of the natural code of the universe.

And for some reason, the lifesprings also created an anti-code in the instincts of those it spawned that conflicted with this code, almost as if it was giving each individual a choice…except it wasn’t, because this anti-code called on some to eat others alive before those others even had a chance to choose for themselves. It was anarchy incarnate, but beneath that anarchy was the natural code. He understood it now, for it was the lightside that Star Force spoke of, but that term didn’t register with him. Natural code did, so that was how he saw it now, and his primary mission was to pursue it further even as the planet around him tried to maneuver him into positions where he must abandon it. Positions where following the anti-code would be easier, preferential, or even necessary.

But Plausious resisted, and had sought out alternative means of nourishment to further separate himself from the anti-code and show the proper respect to the fallen temples of the Hadarak he killed. In the beginning that had been pirating the Hadarak’s own food supply, disgusting as it was.

There were many forms of it, but the two most basic ones were a soup-like gel that was drank more than chewed. The first time Plausious had discovered it he could not stand the smell, but his hunger convinced him to sample it, in very small amounts, and his biological analysis confirmed it held almost all of the nutrients he needed, for all Neofan had the lining of their mouths covered with the microsensors that told them more about the content of their food than other races’ ‘taste’ ever could.

But the Reignor knew that those few missing compounds would kill him over time if he didn’t find a supply for them. The highly resilient cells in his body would eventually break down, and without the necessary repair parts they couldn’t heal themselves or grow new ones. Plausious had picked up the habit of licking rocks he found to search for the missing compounds, and when he found a small stone that contained at least one, he could carry it around in his mouth all day, sucking on it and letting the various acids he was able to produce leech it out of the rock.

He had never known why his body was so capable of searching for, analyzing, and extracting food from inefficient sources. All Neofan were structured this way, and it had grown the more they upgraded. Now he knew why it was such a powerful set of abilities. And without it he would have died of attrition long, long ago.

He had lived millions of years before his marooning here, but that life seemed distant now, for he had never truly lived until he came here, and the moment he had learned the truth of his betrayal was the moment he had finished being born, for he had been fully awake since that time, and the experienced he had gained since then had seen more personal growth than all his millions of years previously.

Plausious was changed, and for the better, even as his body showed weathering, but his frame was strong. Stronger than ever before. And his Core inside was developed in ways he had not known possible. He wished he could scan himself and see the variations from the outside, but such technology was far beyond him now. If there had even been primitive technology on this planet before the Hadarak had arrived, he had seen none of it. All he had to work with here was the natural, and what he could make of it himself, which was minimal, for his Gorvaj did not contain any such abilities…and those few useful ones he had assimilated from various forms of Hadarak did not afford him even the simple composition of plastics, let alone anything stronger.

But he had learned how to grow things. Hadarak biotechnology that did not contain a Core, and he used it to hold food stolen from the Hadarak. He had several large canisters in this forest containing the ‘soup’ he had taken from them, and without the proper containment it would spoil quickly. The moss-like vessels he had created maintained it well, and he had stolen enough for several years if need be, though he knew better than to hold it all in the same spot, for the Hadarak kept sending hunters after him no matter where he went on the planet. If they couldn’t kill him, they at least wanted to make sure they knew where he was and harass him constantly.

Right now he was listening and sensing for the next to arrive, feeling they were a bit overdue. He did not know if they would come from the land or air, but they always came, even if they didn’t know where he was. They would sent out search groups in the thousands to find him, or trace of him, and Plausious had to learn how to conceal his tracks as well as his genetic traces.

That was one trick he’d absorbed from a dead Hadarak hunter. The best version he had taken had come from one of the land travelers. In addition to its sense of smell, it had pads on its feet that would sample everything it stepped on, to the point that if it stepped in a spot the Reignor had stepped days before it could sense the limited genetic material left behind by his feet, or his sweat. But when Plausious had absorbed the ability from it, he had been able to use another ability in conjunction with it to produce bacteria designed specifically to find his genetic material and destroy it.

He’d gotten a lot of flakey skin and some sores on his feet before he’d figured out how to keep the bacteria in check before he needed to release them, but the Neofan had figured it out, and now every step he took deposited some of the bacteria in to the dirt, and over time they’d destroy the slight traces he left behind…but still the hunters would find him, though he had been trying to avoid them as much as possible.

The one piece of his former garments that was still intact was his personal well, now little more than an ankle band around his right foot. He’d had to lock it in that position, or the nanotechnology would have deteriorated to the point that he would have lost it. Now it couldn’t transform, but it still held his excess Essence, and little by little he had been charging it when he had some to spare…and that was rare, for fighting the Hadarak in numbers without using Essence was nearly impossible.

The Reignor walked out on his branch a few steps, then jumped across to another one, landing heavily, but doing so with such grace that he barely made any noise as the branch bowed slightly as the tinsel-like leaves draping down beneath it shivered…but they were all shivering in the heavy breeze, so visually he was not going to give himself away.

That breeze was carrying the dry air from the desert in to the forest, along with the faint scent of Hadarak air minions. His Gorvaj could sense it whenever they brushed across it, and he knew they were in the area, but he couldn’t sense their minds or their Cores just yet.

But soon, he’d have to fight again. How many times he had done this he could not count, and he’d stopped trying to keep track of his past. His life was in the present, and one massive failure would end his life, so journaling what had come before was pointless. He had to live in the moment with his full focus here and now, else he might not make it to see tomorrow.

2

Plausious moved from tree to tree, knowing better than to stay in one place, especially near one of his supply caches. He’d lost many in the past as his hunters moved into the area in search of him and accidentally stumbled across his stores…which they would mark and then other minions would claim after he was driven away. He’d fought for some, but the longer he stayed in one place the more reinforcements would arrive…and after all this time fighting him, the Hadarak had slowly been getting better at it.

They rarely came at him with ground armies now, instead relying on aerial carriers to bring the troops to him when they needed numbers…but they didn’t come too close. They’d set down out of his telekinetic grasp range, then follow the directions of the hunters to his location. The hunters on their own had little chance against him, but every time he used Essence to kill one, something else would sense it.

He didn’t know how that was possible, and had assumed it was telepathy that sounded the alarm…except he could now read the Hadarak telepathy enough to get some meaning out of it, and on several occasions he had killed hunters before they had a chance to transmit. A few of those times he was swarmed anyway, and he had slowly ruled out the possibilities until he was left with his Essence use.

Something out here could sense it.

The Reignor continued moving as the scent began to increase. Something was approaching, but he still couldn’t sense it yet. The winds must have been carrying it far, and he didn’t want to actively search using his Essence to enhance him telepathy, so he waited and kept moving in little bits so he wasn’t a stationary target to be honed in on, and eventually he sensed a faint mental presence.

It was one of the hunters. A small hexped that could run fast and far, massing only half of what the Neofan did, but it had enough muscle and jaw power to rip apart one of his legs if he let it get close enough…again. He’d healed up from many such injuries taken in battle against so many of the creatures he had lost track of some while dealing with the others. But a lone hunter wouldn’t do anything to him unless it caught him while asleep. No, the danger was that it could alert the others to his presence, so he needed to take it out quickly.

Plausious moved towards it, wanting to deal with this now rather than later. Tree to tree he moved until he came near the edge of the desert where his large body would be painfully visible. The hunter was coming across the sands, from where he did not know. There shouldn’t have been any settlements out there, and he hadn’t sensed any of the aerial craft, who had such large Cores that they were visible at great range. So where had this one come from?

The Reignor moved back away from the edge, getting more trees in between him and the sands, and chose his ambush point. He knew the best way to deal with the hunters was to use his Essence and take them out quickly, but that would reveal him to whatever else was tracking him from afar. So he would have to use either telepathy, a short range telekinetic grapple, or brute force to kill it when it attacked.

Prudence said to take it out before it saw him, which was unlikely given that it probably already had his scent, and the closer it got the more alert it would be. Even if it couldn’t see him, it could smell him…despite his efforts at concealment. He hadn’t been out in the sands in a very long time, and the wind was with him, so how did it know where he was?

He hadn’t used Essence in days, weeks? The rotation of this planet was so slow he couldn’t use night/day cycles to measure time, and he’d given up trying long ago when his data module had broken. He’d thought about making marks on a stone or tree, but he couldn’t stay in the same place, so he’d just abandoned any idea of record keeping. But he knew it had been too long for him to be tracked here by Essence use. Something else had to have already spotted him and diverted the hunter here…which meant it might not know his exact location.

He could still ambush it, but Plausious had decided long ago against fighting that way. The anti-code practically begged him to, for it was the most secure way of keeping himself safe, but the Neofan would not attack the hunter unless it attacked him first. That was one small distinction he held firmly to now, despite the end result being the same, for the hunters always attacked. It was what they were designed to do. But if this one did not have his scent, it might pass by…and that meant he would have to avoid it for a long time, hoping it moved on, or move on himself first and leave his caches behind.

If he killed it quickly, before it could alert the others, he would be in the clear until it was missed. And even then they wouldn’t know where exactly it had gone missing. They didn’t stay in that close of telepathic communication, to know where each were at every moment. They reported in when needed, using intermediaries when spread out to relay the telepathy, but unless they were actively searching for one to talk to, this hunter would be invisible to them until it reported that it had found something.

But no, he wouldn’t ambush and kill it if it wasn’t coming directly to him. That would be against the code, for it had the same right to live as him, despite him having been in existence for far longer. It was his enemy, but it was also a victim of the instincts bred into it, and victim of where and into what body it had been born. He would not hesitate to kill it if it attacked him, but he was no longer under the illusion that the enemy was the enemy by choice.

He could sense it easily now, crossing the last bits of sand and darting into the blue/green brush along the edge of the half dead trees that were getting too little water on the edge of the desert. It slowed down slightly, now no longer able to run a straight course, and the Reignor could see that it was going to pass by him closely, but it was not taking the quickest route to him, meaning it did not know he was here.

When it came the closest he reached out gently with his telepathy, knowing a firmer intrusion would be detected and reported, but a light touch could get some information and he’d had opportunity to practice such things many times in the past. As the hunter ran by, it’s gruff face sniffing air and ground in rhythm as it moved, Plausious realized it was on the scent, but not his.

There was no one out here except some primitive wildlife, and if it was going after one of them then he had cause to kill it first, so he began following it, hunting the hunter as he ran as quietly as he could across the ground, having abandoned the tree branches, trying to keep up with its fast movements…but it had no notion of slowing down, nor turning around to see what was behind it, so the Neofan had to abandon stealth and run at full speed without using Essence to try and stay with it, gradually losing ground but keeping it in telepathic tracking range as they moved deeper and deeper into the forest.

He sensed many native wildlife nearby that the hunter ignored, and he was beginning to grow tired as his legs burned. He hadn’t run this much in a long time, cursing himself for allowing himself to grow unaware of his own stagnation, but avoiding pursuit and conserving what Essence he could had been his priorities. Apparently he had been doing better than he thought, for this hunter was wearing him out and he dare not use his Essence to boost his speed…let alone fly.

He almost let it go, but then its mental silhouette changed and he knew it had picked up a fresh scent, probably having been sent to this area to search, and now it had a target to hone in on…so Plausious continued on, eeking out a little more energy to get close enough that he could maybe stop it before it got to whatever its target was…but he ended up being too late as the hunter jumped at something up in the trees ahead, and he could both hear and feel its target getting ripped apart.

That infuriated the Neofan, with the anti-code in it tasting repulsive to his telepathy. He was too far away to grasp it without Essence, but he didn’t care and was about to use it anyway…but then he felt enough proximity to use a trick to buy him some time, sending a telepathic pulse into the hunter that made its vision go out momentarily, along with its body going numb, knowing that in its kill mode it would not be reporting anything this minor as an attack against it. If it registered at all it would assume it was its target doing something, and the momentary lapse allowed its prey to break loose and try to fly away up into the tree branches.

But it couldn’t. A wing was torn up, and the hunter got its bearings quickly with a shake of its body as it reset to a standing position, then it lunged to the left and up, angling for the wounded flyer…

And froze in place.

Plausious had gotten close enough to use his telekinesis, extending an energy field out to grab the hunter and hold it aloft, but only barely. He had to run much closer as it struggled to get free, and he didn’t have the strength left to kill it by the same method, so he blacked out its vision again as he let go, then he sprinted towards it and punched down hard, hitting it in the back of the neck before it could see him coming, and broke it in one blow.

Scurrying to the side got his attention as the flyer was thrashing about, trying to climb into the air but unable to on its right side. Plausious stood still in shock, realizing it was another Hadarak…but one he had never been this close to before. It was an elusive control unit, or rather one that relayed commands across great distances. He had tried to kill one before, but had never been allowed close, for they always stayed far back from the fighting, and the few times he had managed to sneak closer other units would come in and sacrifice themselves as distractions so these Ren’mak could get away.

He had wanted to kill one so he could absorb its ability to receive and relay the Hadarak telepathic commands. If he could, then he would effectively be able to listen in to the orders going out to his pursuers, knowing where they were told to go, what to do, and whether or not they had located him or he was still effectively hidden.

Plausious had tried so hard so many times to catch one, and now this one was here, wounded so it could not fly away, as easy a target as he had ever had.

Something about that made him uneasy. Was this some sort of ruse to draw him in? Why had this one gotten so close, and furthermore why was a hunter trying to kill it? He knew they would sacrifice their own without hesitation to accomplish a mission. What if this was bait?

And what if it was not, and he had just lucked into what had been denied to him so many times before? This and many other thoughts ran through his mind as he telepathically looked into the Ren’mak’s thoughts to see if it had reported him yet, feeling its fear and panic, as well as its pain as its attempts to escape were further tearing its wing apart.

It would be so easy to kill it, then sink his Gorvaj into its corpse and extract the tissue he wanted to mimic. It’s not something he could do while it was alive, not without killing it in the process. He literally had to rip out the pieces on a microscopic level and absorb them, or at least part of them, for the process to work. The Ren’mak was bleeding heavily, so if he waited it would probably die soon anyway. Then he could absorb its ability without having to kill it, for it was not attacking him.

Yet the urge was there to just kill it before something could happen to deny him this opportunity. The anti-code demanded it, and this was the greatest test he’d yet encountered. He would gain so much from it, and if he waited to let it die on its own he would have played no part in its death. Win/win.

Except it was not. It was not right, standing here and watching it thrash itself to death, so he raised a hand and extended his grapple fields out around it, gently squeezing in the right areas to pin it so it could not move much. All he had to do was clench and it would be dead, but the defiance in him would not allow it. The Neofan culture he had previously lived in would not understand his hesitation, for they were apathetic and blind, and luckily for the Ren’mak, he was no longer one of them. Plausious was something else now, though he didn’t have a name for it. He lived by the code, and would die by it if necessary. After all, he was long overdue to die as it was, so the threat of it didn’t hold the same leverage as it would have long ago before his exile.

Plausious walked up to the Ren’mak, then telepathically tried to settle it down and look into its thoughts to see if this was in fact a trap, but it’s fear and instinct to run was so great he couldn’t see much of anything in that mental maelstrom. He sent a soothing aura into it, but that still was not enough, for the damage to its wing was screaming so loudly it demanded the Ren’mak do something.

It’s small head stared at him in horror, unable to twist much at all, and Plausious slowly moved his hand towards its wing, sensing it panic even more the closer he got, but when he touched one of the seven gashes in the thin membrane, he numbed out the pain in a way that made it theatrically obvious that his touch was having a positive effect and was not an attack.

He moved his hand across each of the gashes, repeating the process as the Ren’mak was held still, floating above the ground and unable to touch it or the tree branches above. Plausious couldn’t heal most of the wounds, for the creature was near starvation and did not have the biomass to replace what had been lost, so he melded the tears back together lightly and kept them numb as the Ren’mak’s panic eased, but it was still on the verge of bolting as he slowly eased up the pressure keeping it pinned in its invisible cage.

He let its feet hit the ground, and when it did it tried to jump back into the air. Plausious caught it and repeated the process 9 times before it finally stayed on the ground of its own choosing, looking up at him and locking eyes as he tried to speak to it mind to mind.

The Reignor had learned much of their telepathic communications prior to this, but only by eavesdropping. He’d never encountered a Hadarak this close that wasn’t trying to kill him, and as the Ren’mak’s mind slowed down faster than its beating heart did, he finally was able to see into its recent memories…and when he did, he took a knee beside it and gently stroked its angular head as he did not allow it to move away.

“So some of you do disobey orders,” he said in the Star Force language. He did not care to speak Neofan anymore, and it was even more odd to hear his own voice after such a long time of not using it.

How long had it been since he last spoke aloud?

“Easy little one. I will not hurt you. You and I are alike. We were both betrayed by our brethren. And I doubt you know anything of survival on your own. You won’t make it much further without me, and I can use your help, so let’s see to getting you some food and healing those injuries,” he said, picking it up and carrying it over his shoulder in his invisible grip as it kept trying to get free, but with far less effort than before. It did not trust him, but it was not being attacked, and it could not move, so eventually it decided to just wait and see what happened.

And what happened was Plausious took it to one of his caches that had captured Hadarak food. Both the ‘soup’ and the ‘fruits’ that he had stolen from them. As soon as the storage pod was cracked open and the smell became evident, the Ren’mak abandoned any attempts to fly away and instead tried to fly towards the food as it was nearing death from starvation in addition to the blood loss.

Plausious released his hold after setting it on the ground and fashioning an invisible bowl using the same grappling energy, into which the soup was poured. The stunted, stone-like beak dove into it and he could see the gulps it was taking visible as they ran down its neck, for this variant of Hadarak could not be heavily armored and still fly on wings alone. Others had anti-grav organs, but these did not, and this one was far smaller than the others he had pursued.

“I would guess those of you who do not obey never live long enough to get that big,” he said as the Ren’mak ignored him and kept eating. “And why did you disobey?”

Plausious looked deeper into its memories, finding it didn’t retain much, but not too long ago it had deviated from an assignment momentarily to explore a canyon nearby…simply for the sake of seeing what was there.

But in doing so, it had chosen to temporarily disobey the current, and apparently that was unforgiveable within the Hadarak. Hunters had been sent after it even as it returned to its mission, but it had known they were coming due to its purpose as a relayer of telepathic commands that communicated the current’s will.

That forewarning had scared it enough to get it to flee before it could be killed…and it had flown out into the desert where nothing lived, and flown and flown until it came to this forest only last night cycle.

“You’re so small I didn’t notice you,” he said as the Ren’mak burped when it got so full it could hold no more, and he realized his refusal to use Essence to scan had somehow made him less aware of his surroundings than he realized. “Now that you have the biomass, let’s fix that wing…”

3

Plausious ran, jabbing his arms left, right, and sometimes behind him as he fired disintegration attacks at the Hadarak hunters pursuing him. Each exploded into an orb of dust that obscured the vision of those behind him, and would have interfered with his vision as well if he hadn’t been continuously running forward.

More jumped through the aerial ashes, trying to catch him and slow him down for the larger I’reo to engage. The Reignor knew better than to allow that to happen, so he kept moving through the forest, keenly aware of this area whereas the Hadarak were new to it. He reached out with his grapple energy and yanked several rocks the size of his head out of the ground, levitating them for a moment only to physically pick them up as he ran by.

He carried them a ways more as his friend flew above and slightly ahead of him, but below the treetops where Dupla waited for them both to emerge. The larger Hadarak fliers were firing acid down towards Plausious whenever they had an opening, but he was moving too fast to give them an easy shot, with the foliage momentarily stopping the acid from getting through. By the time it tore apart the leaves enough to drop to the ground, the Neofan was long gone.

He stopped suddenly, throwing an Essence wave backwards and knocking three hunters in the completely opposite direction they were running, with two of them not to get back up again as their bodies were crushed by the sudden reversal…but that’s not why he did it. Plausious needed a steady moment, and the Essence wave had given it to him as he threw one of his rocks up into the treetops, then accelerated it more as he guided it like a missile beyond his natural vision, but the closest Dupla were easy for him to locate.

He sent the rock straight for its glowing Core and made contact, feeling the flyer move up higher for a moment, then it came crashing down through the branches as more rocks flew up, taking down two more, but they did not make it to the ground, getting caught in the higher branches that would now be their grave.

Plausious took off again, with the sky overhead momentarily clear as he headed towards a deep ravine he had explored in the past. Some orbital damage from long ago had carved it out, and in the bottom was a series of waterfalls that led to an even deeper crater that housed a small lake that kept the surrounding forest wet despite the dry air wafting in from the distant desert.

When the Neofan came to the edge he didn’t stop, leaping off it and falling down towards the thin stream of water below as his Ren’mak chased after him, flying with more grace than the Neofan fell, but near the bottom he too took flight and angled his fall into lateral movement, skimming over the rapids between waterfalls as he summoned up a large Essence attack while simultaneously locating every living thing within 2 hipcaps.

The Hadarak he was able to sort out from the wildlife easily enough, mentally linking a straight line to each of them as he telepathically told his Ren’mak to fly below him.

The smaller Hadarak tucked its wings and fell below his height, almost hitting the water before it flapped furiously to stay with him as the canyon darted left and right in an annoying zigzag. Plausious gained a little altitude so he could focus on the attack more than the evasion, then sent tiny orbs of Essence energy out to each, delivering focused attacks that went straight to their hearts…and caused them to malfunction.

Flyers and ground units alike tumbled and died, eliminating all eyes on Plausious as he continued flying, using his Gorvaj for lift while the rest of his body hung beneath them. He continued flying, tracing the path of the river as he drew heavily on his body’s Essence well, but not from his technological one. He would only use it in emergencies, and while he was feeling a little faint from his body’s Essence level dipping below half, he could not take the chance of them being observed from afar.

Plausious sent out a pulse, not just to the local area, but over a third of the planet. A pulse that most Neofan could not have mustered even with augmentation, but the Reignor had changed so much in his time here that they seemed like children in his memory. All that existed now was him and the Hadarak, and he measured himself against them and what he could or could not do. And in most cases it was what he could not do, or do enough of, but he needed to see who was watching him now before he tried to hide.

The pulse went quickly, and was of a nature to not cause damage…but to reflect off of Cores so he could see where they were, what size lifeform they were in, and in the case of a Trugo, Yar’tri, or Ben’zo, it would reflect very brightly due to their Essence abilities, but thankfully none had been seen in this system since he arrived.

His pulse traveled across the entirety of the forest, with there being many lifeforms there that were not Hadarak, yet the number of the invaders was alarming. He hadn’t left this forest in a long time, due to the fact there was nowhere else to go that was preferable, but if their numbers continued to increase he was going to have little choice but to leave. He hadn’t been able to go on the offense since the Ren’mak had joined him, for while it could fly faster than he could run, it was so vulnerable that keeping it alive was the most problematic annoyance he had to deal with currently.

But he’d rather die than abandon it, and even if he told it to, it would not leave him now. All the Hadarak would kill it on sight, and it seemed a little protection was enough to bond it to him permanently.

And while keeping it alive was annoying, that annoyance was a new thing. And after having spent such a long time doing the same survival drill over and over again, anything new was good.

Plus, having someone who was truly loyal to him was refreshing after the circumstances that had led him to be marooned on this planet. The simple being did not understand the concept of betrayal…which is one reason why it was so totally blindsided when the others tried to kill it…and Plausious knew he would never need fear it turning against him.

And in addition to that, he’d come to like its company.

Plausious watched the reflections and mentally tallied them up, seeing once again some coming from far below ground, but this time his pulse went deeper and wider, and he found a great many more.

They weren’t Hadarak, but something native to the planet. He’d come close to one before…

Suddenly there was a reflection from far overhead, all the way up in orbit. Two, actually, for one was a naval warship. One massive lifeform that showed up easily due to its size.

The other was an intensely brighter spot within it.

Plausious rotate on his wings so his body was above them and he could look upwards with his eyes, magnifying his vision as he tried to spot the orbiting ship. It wasn’t low enough to see easily, meaning it wasn’t a risk of firing on him, but if he could see it, then it could see him and track him wherever he flew.

That was the immediate concern. The bright spot within was the greater revelation. He knew someone had been tracking his Essence use, but now he had his first inkling of who. There was something on that ship, or within, that was Essence capable, and he didn’t know of any Hadarak form so small, making this a welcome mystery…and a potentially very dangerous one.

Right now though, he had to hide, and could not with that ship watching him from above, he so dipped into his technological well and pulled forth a huge surge of Essence, then used his own to mold it into a weapons grade discharge…which took a considerable amount of time…then he release it up out of the canyon in beam form, striking the ship with an invisible attack.

It hit the hardened hull, soaking in and turning it to ash as the corruption worked its way around the exterior, eating it alive but not going very deep. The outer layers burned and flaked off black chunks, then when it had wrapped around the entire ship and began to chew further inward it suddenly stopped.

That was supposed to happen, for Plausious didn’t want to use enough Essence to destroy it. His reserve was too precious to try something like that, but with its exterior wrecked its senses would be useless to track a surface target so far away. It was doubtful it could see another ship orbiting nearby, meaning it was going to be blind for some time until it healed the damage.

But it should have gone on longer than it did, and the flash of Essence from the living ship indicated why it had not. The bright spot had used a cancellation technique to cleanse what was left off of it, though not soon enough. Plausious would have done so instantaneously, so either this attachment wasn’t linked into the warship’s senses, or it did not expect such an attack and was blindsided by it.

It was too small to be a Yar’tri, which Star Force referred to as Lurkers. When they were spawned they were far larger. This little spot was probably no larger than a Neofan, though he couldn’t tell if it was outside the ship or within. But he knew in his bones this was what had been following his Essence use and directing the Hadarak on the planet to his location every time he used it.

Fortunately his wings were now strong enough to fly him without an Essence boost, and as the flash from the warship diminished all Essence use in the system ended. He would not give his position away again, and immediately reversed course, flying up river with the Ren’mak making a quick u-turn to follow just behind his feet.

“Only a little further,” he told it, using words in addition to telepathy as he continuously worked to teach it to talk. A few more genetic upgrades and it would be there, but each took time to normalize despite its eagerness to learn and grow. “I know you’re hungry, and so am I. I have food stored there, and we can hide for a while, but we have to go underground.”

The Ren’mak squawked, which indicated it did not like that idea, but it would follow Plausious anywhere.

“It’s necessary. We both need rest. You did well, and lasted longer than before, but you can’t keep flying much longer, and neither can I. We can’t let them wear us down to a level where we can’t run. If we have to stand and fight, I can’t protect you enough. And if I let them trap me in one place, it will not be easy for me to survive. We have to keep moving, and the only place that we can recharge without the hunters finding us is below ground. There are more coming. I felt them. But they cannot see us yet, so we must hide before they get here.”

A warble responded, accepting the plan, and both continued to fly up river until he came to one of the smaller waterfalls. Plausious created a grapple field bubble around the Ren’mak and took it through the water with him. Had he not done so the weight of the falls would have dragged it below water, but it only lightly affected the larger Neofan as he finally rested his anti-grav tissue and got a tenuous foothold on a tiny rock ledge in front of a jagged crack in the wall behind the water.

He had to squeeze sideways to get through, but behind it was widened somewhat, and after taking out a few key pieces of rock on a previous visit, he could walk over the uneven ground with careful steps as the little bit of light getting through the waterfall quickly dimmed into darkness.

Plausious was about to use a technique to produce light, but the Ren’mak beat him to it as four spots on his beak began to glow green, and bright green, illuminating its path ahead as it flapped in hover mode right behind him.

He tapped on his shoulder and it landed there, grasping it lightly so the flyer could start to conserve energy. “How long can you keep that light?”

Three cackles and a warble responded, and along with the mental translation Plausious took that to mean days if necessary, and it made sense. If Ren’mak didn’t have a way to see using energy fields as he did, they would be useless at night, though he’d never used it near the Neofan before. Going below ground in the absolute darkness must have scared it into use.

“This crevice leads to several others. I put the food far from the entrance, and some of it has probably gone bad by now. But something should still be there. Ride and rest, my friend. They cannot see us here. And the hunters cannot track us through the air. They will search the area, and if they find this place there are two other exits for us to escape through. We will not be trapped. Rest. We are safe for now.”

He felt its fleshy talons squeeze his shoulder as it moved around into a slightly better position, then using the light it produced he continued to walk carefully through narrow passage and under overhangs, dancing on jagged ground as he continued to move deeper and deeper into the cliffside without descending much in elevation.

Eventually they came to a small enlarged area that he had carved out previously, and his tired feet found the first flat ground inside the cave. Calloused as they were, his bare feet still had limits, and he’d used up a lot of it during the pursuit when he didn’t have the luxury of watching his steps very closely.

“Here we are. Let’s see what’s still edible,” he said, tossing aside some now rotten fruit on the top of a pile, but the ones below were not as bad. He broke one in half without even touching it, then grasped the outer shell and flipped it up so the Ren’mak could eat out of his hand, dipping it’s beak down inside and carving out the nutrient dense interior in long furrows as the Neofan chewed on the other half.

“Sour,” he proclaimed, but both of them kept eating as he sat down and leaned against the nearby wall, letting his fatigue finally begin to show. He would need to sleep soon, which wouldn’t be a problem unless that Essence user sent out a pulse like he did. If it had his range, it could find him here the same way…but if that occurred he would see it, and never in his time here had he sensed Essence use from anything or anyone on the planet other than himself.

So whoever that was up there was not making their presence known. But Plausious knew now there was someone else in play…but what was it?

Regardless, he was finally peeling back another layer of the mystery, and that was ample success in addition to keeping the pair of them alive for some time more. Both he and the Ren’mak had biology that would not degrade over time unless put under heavy attrition, and Plausious was making sure he got well fed to avoid that.

At this point he would rather die with the Ren’mak than be parted from it, for he did not want to go back to the way things were before he found it. They were both followers of the code, amidst a planet full of anti-coders. And it being here, with him able to see and feel it’s thoughts, was a luxury beyond explanation.

He wanted to keep the Ren’mak alive because it did not deserve to die…but he also wanted to keep it alive for his sake.

For he truly liked having a companion to run with.

4

They stayed below ground for a long time, with the Hadarak never coming in after them, but food would not last forever, and Plausious had to gather more from some source. He knew the Ren’mak wouldn’t let him go alone, but this time he didn’t think the odds were in their combined favor, so he used his telepathy to coax it into a very deep sleep, then sealed it into a section of the cave so if it awakened early it wouldn’t be able to panic and get itself lost inside…or come out to the surface where it was vulnerable.

Plausious did not like doing this, but if he was right about there being more Hadarak in the area then he couldn’t risk his little friend. Both options were bad ones, for letting it out of his sight was problematic, and as soon as he sealed it in he raced through the caverns to get back to the closest surface exit, knowing he was on the clock.

The Reignor had not used his Essence since entering the caves, not even to charge his personal well, for that small transfer could potentially be used to locate him. But as he neared the surface he did use his various abilities without augmentation to scout through the rock and see what was around him before he emerged.

He was fortunate that he did, for there were several Dupla in the area and potentially within vision range. The Neofan hung inside for a while, monitoring their movements, then when he was convinced he could move unseen he pulled himself up through a crack towards the visible light above, with his eyes having to adjust to the brightness again as his head popped up underneath some grasses tall enough to loop over and give him some cover.

This wasn’t the waterfall entrance, but another route in, and once he pulled himself up and scurried across the smaller clearing to the nearest trees, he was off running hard as he monitored the position of the Hadarak minds within his sensing range, avoiding them for the most part as he got some distance from his hidden friend before he tried to tap into one of them to get information.

As he’d guessed, additional food distribution centers had been relocated to the forest…a lot of them. He’d been raiding far across the desert initially when there were no Hadarak here, but since arriving he’d not had to go as far, and when he did he had to collect enough to make it worth his while.

There was other stuff in the forest he could eat, but not in ample amount…and not what the Ren’mak needed. Now he had no choice but to steal from the Hadarak to sustain it, and with him being on the clock leaving it behind, even if he came across some of the various fruits or roots the forest graciously furnished, he couldn’t stop to harvest them.

The Reignor had one target and one target only, and it was one of the distribution centers the Hadarak operated for their units. According to the closer mind he raided, its last meal had been a ways from here, but the location was locked firmly in its mind and Plausious adjusted his course to head towards it.

As time passed the concentration of Hadarak increased, meaning he had to be much more cautious to avoid being spotted. His own telepathy shields would prevent the Hadarak from picking him up until he got close enough to kill them.

Not all of the Hadarak could, but some of the perimeter defenses were designed to scan for telepathic signals, or even minds as he could do. He had been spotted many times before he’d learned just how to calibrate his mental shield to protect him against their telepathic range…which they never changed.

He used it now as the forest began to thin, with gnawing marks on several stumps where trees had been. Enough remained to hide him underneath a more or less intact canopy, but further ahead he could see sunlight coming down from above, meaning his cover was going to diminish rapidly.

That was ok, for he wasn’t going to be able to steal food quietly. He’d tried that too, along with many other tactics, and he’d found the best approach was the direct one.

Plausious waited until the first roaming hunter spotted him, then he killed it from afar as he began sprinting directly to the buildings now entering his vision ahead, but the minds inside them were clustered together and rather obvious to any telepath.

With his body full of Essence, he began drawing on it heavily and taking out enemies that had not even seen him yet, but were already alerted, dropping them from the sky and all across the forest floor, then he went silent again as he felt the telepathic sweepers in the buildings searching for the source of the attack as several tentacle-like weapons pylons rose up from their caves around the perimeter of the 18 living buildings clustered in a clearing that had no trees or plants whatsoever. An ugly blot within the jungle that offered no cover to an invader.

Plausious didn’t even bother with the tentacles, deflecting the energy blasts they sent his way using Essence shields to cover him as he sprinted past the outer defenses and got in amongst the buildings where only one pylon in the center could reach him from above as he moved around at various angles to cover the center ‘streets’ between buildings that were clamming their doors shut as the Neofan was finally identified by sight and telepathy, with the signals here being so strong it felt like a mental soup.

He could have killed the buildings, but he might want to come back and steal from this site later. Two of the buildings were small production facilities in the making, not grown long ago and probably only generating minimal production. The others were essentially warehouses and feeding stations, with many bodies lying on the ground in some of them where Plausious’s distance attacks had killed them.

He watched the bodies just in case they weren’t fully dead as he moved to one of the feeding stations that had its nipple-like soup stations retracting away from him as he passed by, but he wasn’t going there first. That was a mistake he’d made before. Liquid was harder to carry than solid objects, so he went for the bins of fruit stored in a nearby building and brandished an Essence blade over his right arm and cut through one of the walls with it bleeding out gore as he pushed his way through, then turned back to enlarge the opening as basket-like pouches larger than him were hanging from the ceiling, mostly full of the Hadarak ‘fruit’ that would be grown in other structures.

Plausious cut one of the pouches off at the top, jumping up on it and doing it manually to conserve energy. He fell with it to the floor, then rolled off as he grabbed the top flaps and pulled them back together with some fruit spilling out, but he didn’t pick it up. He was out the gash in the building a moment later carrying his giant sack as he headed back to the ‘soup’ station.

He used his grapple fields to rip out several nipples, then caught the fluid goo as it ran out, redirecting it away from the ground to a position above his left hand, forming a hovering sphere that gradually grew in size as more poured out and he sent the little rivers arcing through the air to feed it.

From previous experience he knew how much he could carry, and he grew the sphere twice as high as his own body, which looked ridiculously big and impossible to move, but the psionic power of the Reignor was now massive and well-honed for such tasks, with him using a continuous stream of Essence to reinforce his abilities where needed.

Suddenly the nipple ports dropped their rivers and began spilling it out onto the ground as the housings started to contract around the breaches, making them smaller and smaller until they would finally seal up soon after, but Plausious was already on the run carrying his sack of fruit over his right shoulder looking like a gigantic tick on his back while hovering an even larger sphere of soup above his other hand as he deflected shots from the central tentacle at the same time.

Had there been Hadarak units here he could not have managed the multitasking and combat at once, but the field was still clear and he couldn’t bother to search very far for new Dupla flying in as he had to race past the outer tentacles and get back into the forest carrying and protecting his cargo.

He used so much Essence he began to feel faint, blocking shots that he otherwise could have dodged, but when the trees started doing so for him, his main concern was to keep moving while shielding his two precious cargos from the limbs themselves, all the while extending his telepathy out looking for new targets.

He found them not long after, with several contacts flying in towards him as well as a few hunters on the ground coming around from other assignments to intercept him.

Plausious knew he couldn’t get into a large battle without dropping his cargo, so he kept moving and tried to pick them off one at a time, using heart attack Essence attacks for the most part, because they required so little energy compared to other, more direct assaults. Fortunately none of the larger Hadarak that were more resistant to the technique were here, and there were no packs of the smaller ones, otherwise he’d have to use a blanket attack and that would drain him considerably. Targeted attacks did not, and the further he got away from the distribution center he had to use more of them, because he was moving into an area he had not cleared before.

He angled away from the highest concentrations of the minds he could detect, but his cargo made it hard for him to actually hide from aerial monitoring. Plausious made sure to head away from the direction of the caves as he pulled another Essence ping release to see what was further away.

The warship was not above him, thankfully, but there were a lot of units in three directions and he ran away from all of them, having to zigzag a bit but eventually he got to an area of the forest he didn’t know as well, except that it had rolling hills in it. The Neofan cleared the aerial assets again with another series of attacks, then with his large sphere of goo now not visible to anything above, he found a somewhat concealed spot underneath the trees and up alongside a hillside to stop at.

Maintaining the sphere was taking a toll on him, but his grapple energy wasn’t overtaxed yet. He looked around at the trees and began stripping them of bark, flying it to the sphere and sticking the solid pieces onto the exterior of the liquid, making it much easier to hold as he only had to put pressure on a general area rather than every little molecule on the exterior.

He covered the entire sphere, leaving only cracks that he had to focus more on as he monitored the minds around him and as far as he could push his non-Essence detection. Then he started moving again with the intent to avoid his pursuit and eventually lose them, after which he would start heading back to the caves.

Before that, though, he altered the shape of the sphere into a spear wider than his chest, but long and lateral to the ground, making it look like he had a thick log trailing behind him as he carried his sack of fruit and kept the former from coming into contact with any head height branches.

It took a long time to evade, and then circle back to his hiding spot. He came in through the waterfall entrance this time, because it was a little wider and he had very large cargos to carry. He was fairly sure he arrived there unnoticed, then held just inside the waterfall and scanned the area for some time before he squeezed himself through, then brought his cargo in past the narrow point in pieces, all the while having to keep constant focus on the bark-covered goo, else a momentary lapse would spill it on the ground, leaving most unrecoverable.

Moving with it through the caves was painstakingly slow, but it was a slowness he would gladly trade from running through the forest with Hadarak in pursuit, and when he finally got back to his nearly empty storage devices, he refilled the living tanks with the soup, then began arranging the fruit into hasty piles as he was eager to get back to his friend.

He pulled apart the rocks he’d covered the entrance with, then found the Ren’mak still sleeping where he’d left him. Plausious knelt down and placed a hand on him, checking his status. He was alive and, other than probably stiff, unharmed. A little telepathic nudge started the process of waking, then he left him to arouse naturally as the Neofan began removing the other rock barricades and returning the area to how the Ren’mak remembered.

When it woke it did so with a head jerk, as it always did, then it squawked and flew into the air and over to him, seemingly afraid that, for a moment, it didn’t know where he was.

Plausious extended an arm and the Ren’mak landed on it, with him stroking its head with his other hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said without telepathic translation. “I’ll try not to do that again, but it’s getting crowded out there. I’m not sure what we’re going to, but for now we can hide for a long time.”

The Ren’mak stretched its wings, and Plausious understood the unpleasant movement. He was an avian, and hovering in these caves was not true flight. He needed to get out and move.

“Let things settle down for a while, then we’ll go scouting,” he promised, this time translating so it understood, with the Ren’mak uttering an excited chirp. “After that I want to keep going down.”

Its elation diminished immediately, for they’d gone far enough before to get into a hotter zone, with the air dry and hard to breathe.

“I know,” he said, stroking it again. “It’s hard. But I think there’s something down there. Maybe something we can use. No, I’m not going to tell you what I think it is. We’ll have to find out for real. I may be wrong…yes. After we go outside. I need to recharge first,” Plausious added, having forgotten to add more Essence to his well before coming down here.

Oh well. He’d do it when they were scouting and far away from the entrances. He shouldn’t have made that mistake.

“Guess I was eager to get back here,” he said, tossing the little Hadarak into the air where it hovered and flew around a bit, though it couldn’t go far, as Plausious retreated back to his newly acquired cargo to inventory the fruit properly. Store them in the wrong way and they’d rot faster, and stacking was key, for the net-like pouch he’d brought them here in would wither quickly and fall apart now that it wasn’t connected to the nutrient lines in the building he’d taken it out of.

Fortunately the liquid containers did not have that problem, and they actually fed off the soup itself, making them portable, but ambushing one of the transports was actually more problematic than hitting the distribution centers, for that combat would take place during flight, and he had to hit them in areas he couldn’t get to now with the Ren’mak.

Everything was harder now that he had him to protect, and he feared the day when he couldn’t do so. Plausious was comfortable with the concept of his own pending death, but not the Ren’mak’s. It was so young, and totally helpless against its betrayal. It was relying on him for anything, and the thought of it being killed affected him more than he’d expected.

It wasn’t expendable. Despite the fact that it had been born to be expendable.

In many ways the lightside was harder than the darkside. Davis had told him that too, but now that he was faced with a real life scenario, he understood it intimately and the threats it had to his sanity. For this was more than just following the natural code. This was personal, because he cared for this one a great deal, and it felt even more strongly for him.

It was illogical, but now that he was experiencing it he acknowledged his logic was not sufficiently advanced to analyze the bond for what it was. It was powerful, but dangerous…yet it made life worth living in the face of an inescapable doom that hadn’t been able to find him yet.

Plausious sighed as he continued to stack fruits. He had another window of refuge with these supplies, but it wouldn’t last forever. He was going to have to get clever, or the Hadarak were going to win by populating this forest…and there wasn’t a better place on the planet that he knew of that they could go.

And he couldn’t go on the warpath and thin the Hadarak out like he normally did. Not with the Ren’mak to protect.

He needed another strategy, and the sooner the better.

5

After several deeper trips into the cave system, a bit of moisture was the giveaway. Everything down here was painfully dry and warm as the internal heat of the planet made its way out through the rock layers and was eventually radiated off into space. Day/night cycle didn’t matter this far down, and the heat levels were nearly constant aside from various conduits that had more heat than others depending on the type of materials and how well they transferred the heat.

But when the air turned moist, Plausious suspected he had found what he was looking for. He and the Ren’mak continued to work down narrow cracks and crevices that led into larger chambers, some big enough to put a landing craft in, but this moisture was coming out of a narrow one, and required a bit of ‘sanding’ for the Neofan to get down.

He didn’t use his Essence to do it, but rather his molecular deconstruction. It was energy intense, and the rock began to glow as he used it, but his hands were able to rub against and carve out whatever he touched, turning it into a mix of sand and gas that billowed out and made it hard to breathe until he also used his grapple energy to direct it where he wanted.

Plausious only did as much as necessary for him to slide through as he descended a vertical shaft with the Ren’mak flying short hops from perch to perch on the stone walls or riding on his shoulders when there was none available, now feeling better with the moisture in the air rising to the point where the walls began to shine with reflected light from his beak.

The Reignor was thankful Neofan biology had so many non-Essence abilities built into their genome. It was said early on in his Construction that to use Essence well, you needed a base to work off of, for pure Essence abilities were the hardest and most costly to produce. The deconstruction ability was designed to allow disintegration attacks to be produced far more efficiently and effectively, for the Essence would form around his tissues designed for such a task and then only have to be modified slightly. Those without the base ability would have to take their raw Essence and completely transform it to the desired state…which was possible…but something only a master could truly attempt with efficiency.

Plausious was considered a master in many areas before being marooned here, but he had never truly thought about non-Essence applications for his deconstruction ability. Now that he had to hide his location by not using Essence, he was discovering a great many advantages in his Neofan biology that had been overlooked by time and culture.

But this one also made him hungry, and they had no food with them. He’d have to wait until they returned to their closest base camp where he’d left a few days worth of supplies.

He continued to climb down, finding his handholds getting slick, but his ability to fly gave him ease as he continued to move down the passage that few others could manage, ending at a deep pool of liquid water that was lightly steaming.

Plausious dipped the end of his foot into it, finding it hot but not scalding…and also flowing gently in one direction. Meaning it was going downhill to somewhere, not rising up from below as most water would.

“We follow this,” he told the Ren’mak as they both flew down a comfortable cavern that was higher than it was wide, and with the Neofan having to tuck his wings on many occasions.

He didn’t have to carve out any more rock, and after a short distance he saw what looked like a mirror surface ahead of them reflecting the Ren’mak’s light…except on closer inspection he found it to be bioluminescent itself.

What ‘it’ was ended up being a wall bouncing light from another chamber…and in that chamber there were plants growing. Covering the walls was a type of moss that produced light, and Plausious suspected it was a heat absorber designed to photosynthesize off of infrared light rather than the visible spectrum. With the constant warmth here it wasn’t bright in infrared, but it was lit. He didn’t have the ability to see in it, for he’d never pursued that genetic upgrade, but he understood basic physics.

He managed to get his feet on some solid platforms and began walking from one to another as the side passage meandered away from the flow of water. He knew to follow it, but the light-generating plants beckoned him to check them out first. As he did, he noticed water seeping through cracks in the rock, providing them with some little trickles that were traveling down to the bottom and joining the watershed going back the other way.

But the light ahead was getting brighter, and after going through a few more turns it got bright enough that the Ren’mak turned off its own green light, leaving everything else in bioluminescent blues and purples, with a strong burst of light reflecting off the trickles of water on the walls ahead and coming from the right.

When Plausious got there he sighed gratuitously, looking through a gap in the rock to an expanse on the other side. He walked through and the claustrophobic cave network disappeared entirely. He couldn’t even see the roof, for everything was full of plants and mist, with the light refracting through it so you could not see where it ended.

His energy fields could, and he knew he had found a Maksack. Sometimes when rock layers formed, escaping gasses from the gravitational squeezing process in the core would get trapped under a thin enough layer that they could actually bulge that layer up, then when it cooled it would create high pressure caverns that, once breached and released of their extremely high pressure gasses, would remain as bubble worlds if the weight above was not too great. And into and through those maksacks other gasses and liquids being formed in the core would collect and pass through.

And in this case, that included a great deal of water.

Nearby there was a small creek flowing out of what had to be the endpoint of the other passageway he had diverged off from, abandoning its sharp v-shaped conduit as it spread out into a paper thin sheet over a huge, nearly flat boulder with little plants that had found some foothold in the rock where they could soak up all the water they wanted.

The water that got passed pooled into a lake, and inside that lake he could sense large lifeforms…the same ones he had sensed from the surface previously.

Plausious wanted to use an Essence bounce to see everything here, but he wasn’t going to risk it. They weren’t so far down orbital bombardment couldn’t affect them, and they couldn’t run fast through the tight caves if discovered. In here, at least, they could move around normally…and the Ren’mak took to the air and began to fly loops in excitement as it was able to stretch its wings as if they were back on the surface.

Everything looked to be in fog that glowed from within, and as Plausious telepathically searched for even the smallest of minds he found many in the forest full of varied plants, some a few inches tall while others were twice his height. None were very rigid, nor did they need to be with no wind or weather down here. Everything appeared to be soft to the touch, which was a vast contrast from the rock all around them.

The smells that came to him were reassuring, and one ‘tree’ in particular he reached out and ran his hand over, breaking off a small branch that he bit into, taste analyzing it’s compounds and finding it was edible for him. The question was, could he find enough edible stuff for his friend.

If he could, they could hide down here indefinitely. If not, he’d have to make raids out to collect more food on the surface. But either way, the Hadarak were not here and most likely never would be until they got to the point of carving up the planet for resources. This planet was far from getting even close to that stage, and staying down here would give him time to truly rest, train, and think.

The Ren’mak screeched in a way Plausious had not seen before as it dove into one of the trees, then came back up with something in its beak that was wriggling. He thought he was going to swallow it, but his friend instead flew it back over to the Neofan and dropped it at his feet excitedly.

“We can’t eat that,” he said, reaching down and picking up the little worm-like creature. “This is alive. I know you don’t understand, but this is off limits. Let’s find some real food, and if I have to I’ll recombine some compounds so you can eat them. It’s very slow work, but I think we have plenty of time to figure it out. These creatures,” he said, putting the worm back on one of the trees, “are our neighbors. Do not touch them again.”

The Ren’mak was disappointed, having thought he had retrieved a prize for his master, and Plausious knew he needed to do better at explaining. So instead of trying to create new vocabulary on the spot, he pulled off some of the soft, spongy bark of one of the trees and collected some tube-like grass along with scraping some veins of stone with his deconstructing ability.

In his own Construction, his young self had learned what it meant to be Neofan, which was more than just developing skills. Those who failed to measure up were either terminated or given the chance of exile, the latter of which was seen as torturous, for without proper Construction a Neofan would surely end up insane. But if they did truly master their own minds, they were then taught to master their bodies and taught various tricks they could use, and crafting simple compounds out of basic molecules was one of them, which would then be a precursor to the more advanced alchemy abilities that Plausious had not acquired.

The Neofan never needed those skills with all their technology, but the practice of it allowed them to hone their focus and become one with the passive mental state that all Neofan society operated off of. Rage was the greatest enemy one had, and Neofan were inclined by their enlightened state to be continually disgusted with how primitive the rest of the galaxies were, and this naturally angered them. One had to overcome this anger in order to truly be Neofan, and accept that not all would be enlightened. If Plausious could not have held his nerve amongst the inferior, he did not deserve his physical superiority.

And yet now, standing here with an inferior Hadarak, he peeled back another layer of lies from his former civilization. That had become a side quest for him during his exile, as he was ironically finding out more about himself here than he had in his Construction.

He was superior…attested to by the fact that he had survived all this time alone in enemy territory. But there was something about the Ren’mak that was of equal superiority to him. He was a peer with it on some level that he didn’t fully understand yet, but he was certain of that fact now. And when it brought him the little worm he realized that it was trying to help him as he had helped it.

Not to serve him, but to help him. As a friend.

Neofan culture did not have a concept of ‘friendship.’ He had only encountered it in Star Force, but had not truly experienced it until he had come across this Ren’mak.

Plausious sat down and put the various components he had gathered between his legs as he crossed them before him. “I guess you outdid me,” he admitted. “You rejected the lies of your own race long before I even suspected mine.”

The Neofan stripped down the bark further, analyzing and isolating a certain type of molecule from it, then holding the refined material up for the Ren’mak to see.

“Go on, lick it.”

The little beak hesitated, sniffing it at first, then a small tongue snuck out and made contact with the powder. His head jerked as if it was tart, but then he came back and continued to lick up more of the powder onto his now dry tongue.

“Good. You know the smell now? You know the taste?” he said, translating telepathically. “Find me more plants that have this. The bigger the taste the better. Find it and I will pull it out.”

The Ren’mak’s mood brightened, now having a task and a chance to do something for Plausious correctly. It flew off into the mist, with him keeping a mental eye on it and every other mind out there. He didn’t sense anything large enough to harm it above the water, but those in the water could potentially be hazardous.

“And stay away from the lake,” he added before turning back to his pile of plants and started to strip out various components to see what was in them and how much he could use. Most of it was junk, as far as his and the Ren’mak’s digestive systems were concerned, and if it required too much energy on his part, the process would become counterproductive. But as long as there was potential here, he needed to explore it.

Plausious got more and more hungry as he worked, realizing he needed to head back out so they could get back to the Hadarak food, but he didn’t want to leave. He nibbled on some of his refined material, but the calories it gave him were less than what he had used to refine it. He needed something easy to split that would give him ample calories, then he could use them to pull out the minerals and vitamins he required, but in far less amounts.

What he had wasn’t going to work, and he didn’t have enough time to go exploring here more, so he was going to have to go back and return here later. He was about to call the Ren’mak back to him when the flier returned early, landed in front of him on the moss-covered rock Plausious sat on, then coughed up a lot of little white tubes that it had held inside its beak. It looked up at him warily, as if asking if he had done something wrong again or if this is what he wanted.

Plausious didn’t sense a mind inside, meaning it wasn’t a person like the worm was, but he didn’t know what it was beyond that as he picked it up and licked it.

His eyes went wide as his analysis sense registered food-grade concentrations of 5 major compounds.

“Where did you find this?”

He got a few mental images from the Ren’mak, then asked him to guide him there. Both of them took off through the mist, with it never slackening enough to see more than a few strides ahead, but when they traveled along the edge of the lake and came to an arch-like ‘pinch’ in the massive cavern walls that created a wide choke point that the lake almost completely covered, he found a grove of odd trees that did not appear to belong here.

These trees, he was certain, were light-gathering trees…perhaps also heat gathering, but they had leaves that were very similar to what would be found on the surface. And the seemingly native plants here were giving off enough light that a slow growth might have been possible, considering there was no ‘night’ stage down here for them to go without a constant energy input.

And on those trees were growing bundles of the little white tubes inside of paper-thin fruit shells.

Plausious pulled one off its tiny stem hanging down from a branch and pulled it open, seeing hundreds of them inside.

“This was engineered,” he said, sure of it. “Someone put this here, perhaps long, long ago and forgotten by time.”

He looked around, seeing others laying on the ground that had fallen…and not been opened or eaten at all. Meaning it was most likely being wasted and not the food of any of the lifeforms here.

“Did you eat any?” he asked, getting an affirmative chirp.

“Good,” the Neofan said, cupping half of the fruit’s contents in his hand and throwing them into his mouth. After getting used to eating Hadarak food he knew the new taste here would not be hard to get used to…but more important than that, they had a high energy and protein count, with his stomach thanking him immediately as it gave its own approval.

“Very good,” he said, grateful to the Ren’mak, who had just saved them an unnecessary return trip. He stroked its head and explained this was real food, and it would help them both immensely, but they needed to find out how many of these trees were down here. If only a few they couldn’t stay long, but what was here now would last them many days. Enough to do a lot more exploring, for Plausious was sensing this maksack was the size of a modest city, and the oxygen levels from the plants’ byproducts were high. Enough to make the air feel alive despite the lack of movement and the thick moisture floating around in it.

“My friend, I think this will be our home…”

6

The Ren’mak rattled off a series of chirps, squawks, and ulus as Plausious lifted another heavy beam that he’d painstakingly crafted into the hole he’d dug, setting it vertically so it that it matched the slot in the beam above him as he worked to build the elevated foundation for his newest extension to their dwelling in the maksack. They weren’t Star Force words just yet, but an intermediary, limited language he’d coaxed him into learning, though his vocal chords weren’t yet up to the task of more refined data transmission.

“How is it askew?” he responded, looking up and seeing the beams match up as expected and not having to use telepathy, for while the Ren’mak couldn’t speak fully, it could understand most of what he said, including his short reply.

Plausious stepped back to look from another angle. “No, the ground is not level. That is what makes it appear tilted. I can feel the vertical alignment against the gravity well. It is as it should be. Insert the bolt.”

The Ren’mak didn’t agree, but he did as he was told and flew up to the intersection of the two beams while clasping an oddly shaped rock in its feet. It hovered over the holes that now lined up, then slid the rock in part way, feeling it jamb. He let go then kicked it twice as Plausious jigged the beam.

A third kick sent it in until the wider top section caught, then Plausious telekinetically lifted another smaller shaped rock into the visible hole in the exposed side of the other, putting the lock pin in place as the Ren’mak landed on the mostly organic horizontal beam and looked down at it, squawking his approval as it glanced back at the rest of the dwelling that contained 8 rooms, all large enough for the Neofan to walk around in without ducking, along with a lower two on ground level that were only accessible from above to keep the roaming creatures out.

They’d appeared not long after Plausious had started crafting a variety of foods for himself and the Ren’mak, with the crawling quadrupeds coming from somewhere far off, perhaps in another maksack, but they were now inhabiting this one whenever they didn’t move too close to the lake. The Neofan tried to protect them when he could, but the predator eels were quite fast and he hadn’t yet found a way to keep them in the depths and feeding off the plant life there.

The Ren’mak was forbidden to fly low over the water or land on the edge for just that reason, but the quadrupeds did not obey him, searching out food wherever they could and always coming up short. Even with some being taken by the eels, they were always overpopulated and starving, making him wonder exactly where they had been before coming here.

He gave them some of the leftover byproducts that neither he nor the Ren’mak wanted to eat, and they gobbled up most of them, even when not all of it was digestible material. And if he didn’t protect his stored food, they would raid it when he wasn’t here to shoo them off. Hence the storage rooms had to have no entrances that they could get in through, and gratefully they were half full of prepared food, enough that if he created more now it would spoil.

And what they had would last them a very long time, so he let the trees and other plants grow freely so they could feed the other creatures as well as multiply for his own needs, with him reworking the ecology of this maksack to his advantage. He now had multiple groves of the noodle-producing trees where there had been none before, as well as grooming other plants not just for his food, but also to try and get something that the eels would like better than the quadrupeds.

That was an ongoing experiment, with some of his recent attempts sitting on one of the upper rooms along with other pieces of crude technology he had been trying to craft. Enough of them that he needed to expand their dwelling to offer him more workspace that he could shut off from the locals when needed.

He hadn’t fought the Hadarak in a very long time, and he hadn’t ventured to the surface in almost as long. The Reignor no longer needed to, for he was growing and harvesting all the food components he and the Ren’mak needed down here, with the local plant life thriving even more now that they had another source of carbon dioxide to consume other than what leeched up with the water from deeper in the planet.

This place, hidden on a planet of horrors above, was not without its pockets of anti-code. The eels were the primary source of it, and Plausious had taken it as a personal challenge to rid them of it…or at least diminish it. If the anti-code was truly in all lifeforms from their birth, it might be impossible to remove it entirely. But from what he had learned from Director Davis was that when the darkside was allowed to fester it multiplied, not so much in numbers but in depth, and some races were highly ensnared by it.

Star Force sought to free those races from it, and now here in his tranquil little pocket of refuge on this Hadarak planet, he had come to try and do the same. The eels already ate plants, so that was a huge advantage to start with, but no matter how much telepathic training he tried to give them, he could not discourage their instinct to strike at the shoreline…nor could he teach the quadrupeds to stay away, for they didn’t live long enough to carry their lessons forward even when they were not killed. Attrition and badly constructed bodies saw them die not long after reproducing, as was typical of primitive races.

It didn’t seem to fit with this place’s longevity, and Plausious was trying to do what he could to alter that…despite the food shortage for the little creatures. Thankfully a lot of what he grew for himself was not edible for them until he altered it, or not reachable where it grew until it dropped from the trees.

Plausious had explored the entirety of this maksack, but had not yet ventured through the nearby fissures to look for others. He could not feel more minds out there, though he didn’t have the range without using his Essence to search further. With the arrival of the quadrupeds he guessed there was at least one more not too distant, but he hadn’t figured out where it was yet, and didn’t feel the need as his time was better spent upgrading this maksack for both him and his neighbors.

But as he moved the dirt in around the base of the beam he had just set and smashed it down with his feet, he saw Essence reflections all around him…as well as far off into the nearby rock, where not one but several maksacks were briefly visible.

But he hadn’t created the Essence wave. Someone else had. Someone up on the surface, not too far away based on the reflection angles.

That wave also hit him, and bounced back what would have been a very bright signature.

Meaning that he had just been located.

The tranquility and hopefulness for the future that this place had gifted him disappeared in a heartbeat, replaced by unwanted thoughts of where to run, how to run, and how soon.

He didn’t want to let go of what he had here, and he fought for another option as he waited to see if another pulse came…which it did, from a slightly different location, meaning the individual was trying to ascertain his depth.

“My friend,” he said to the Ren’mak that unknowingly continued to perch on the overhead beam exuding content emotions. “We are not alone. Someone with powers like mine is up there, and they know where we are now. We need to run again, but we can’t while that person is alive, for he will always be able to find me.”

He felt the emotional shift in the Ren’mak make his own miniscule in comparison, and he didn’t dare tell him that he needed to leave him here and seek out this opponent on the surface if there was any hope of keeping this home intact.

The Ren’mak finally chirped mournfully, asking how soon they had to leave.

“Not right now,” he said, knowing it would take time for the Hadarak to find a way down here. But if he waited that long they could have all the entrances blocked and pin them down here. “But soon. I’ll gather some food to take with us, then we’re going to have to fly out of here. Out across the desert. I do not know where to. But I have to destroy one of them first. And when I fight him, you have to stay near but not too near,” he said, refusing to tell him to go away, which Plausious knew would get an automatic refusal. “I don’t want to accidentally hurt you, and he could kill you with a single attack. You have to stay alive long enough for me to kill him. I won’t be able to protect you and fight him both. If you can hide somewhere, that would be best.”

The Ren’mak asked about fighting him here, making Plausious reconsider.

“If he comes, perhaps we could. But if they send the Hadarak first, I will have to use my strength on them, and that will weaken me against him. I need to take the fight to him, and soon. Will you stay here while I do that?”

The crestfallen Ren’mak became even more depressed, to the point of panic, at the idea of being separated from the Reignor.

“I don’t want to risk you dying, my friend. I can’t protect you when I fight him. I don’t know what else to do,” he said as a light tremor shook a few small rocks off the ceiling of the maksack, with them falling down into a few trees, but with most hitting the central lake, though invisible in the mist except to the Neofan, who looked upward and through the rock as far as he could, for the tremor wasn’t originating below them.

He couldn’t see it, but he had a very bad feeling about this. Since his location was already betrayed, he used his Essence to look further…seeing a massive explosion tearing into the surface above them, and slowly descending as it ate its way through the rock.

“We have to move, now,” he said, jumping up to the deck and rushing inside their dwelling that was about to be destroyed. He grabbed as much food as he could, especially the types meant for the Ren’mak, then he flew off through the mist with his friend trailing just off his feet and flapping hard in panic that he might be left behind.

“Stay close,” Plausious said, trying to reassure him even as dread filled him. The Hadarak were bombarding his location to drill down to him, which could collapse the maksack on them even before the beam hit, so he had to get the fissures and start working their way out…but those same fissures could collapse just as easily, pinning or crushing them with nowhere else to go.

Carrying several containers in front of him without touching them, Plausious took them to the quickest route up to the surface, then slid the containers into the wide crack ahead of them as he squeezed his larger body through, with the Ren’mak following much easier as the shaking increased.

He pushed as quickly as he could, almost abandoning the food as the vibrations got more and more intense…but then they stopped entirely, causing him to pause and look backward through the rock. He didn’t use his Essence, for they weren’t that far away, and the nearest edge of the maksack appeared to be intact, though with a lot of dust mixing with the mist.

At least that was his guess, with energy fields not being as precise as direct line of sight vision.

The Reignor put down the food containers, in row so they wouldn’t completely block the passage. “Stay in this passage and stay behind me. I’m going to check behind us.”

The Ren’mak did as told, but trailed him closely, hovering just behind his head as Plausious moved back to the entrance crack, coughing on a little dust, but it wasn’t overwhelming when he stepped out into the open and scanned the area, seeing that the dome itself hadn’t been compromised, but there was a new shaft open in the center above the lake with a small pile of debris below it, having crushed a few eels in the process and pinning some more there.

But above them all was a single individual descending through the shaft, and it wasn’t a Hadarak. It was something else, and its Essence silhouette was immensely powerful when Plausious did a quick check.

“I guess we fight here,” he whispered to the Ren’mak. “Keep back and give me room, please,” he begged. “Stay in this crack and watch from here until I call for you. If I can beat him, we can survive. But you can’t help me in this fight. And I want you to live. Will you watch from here?”

The Ren’mak squawked painfully, agreeing but pointing out that he couldn’t see anything from here in all the mist.

“I know. I promise I won’t leave this place without you,” he said, almost telling him to flee through the caves if he died, but the harsh truth was that the Ren’mak would not survive without Plausious even if he was able to get out into the free air. He’d starve to death even if the other Hadarak didn’t find him. His survival depended on Plausious’s entirely.

“If the Hadarak come through this passage, tell me. Otherwise stay silent so they don’t know you’re here,” he said, stroking its head for a moment after the Ren’mak landed and clung to an outcropping in the fissure. “This won’t take long.”

Plausious turned and flew off through the mist, expecting the Ren’mak to panic and follow after him, but to its credit it stayed put, though its emotions were crying out in a myriad of ways. The Reignor forced himself to tune them out and abandon his mental tracking of its position as the person coming down the shaft flew to the edge of the shore and landed on the thin mud-covered rock along the edge.

The Neofan flew near, but landed in the trees a ways off, doing one last quick check behind him to make sure the Ren’mak didn’t follow, then he turned his full attention forward as he strode into view preparing himself for battle.

“I did not know these caverns existed,” the unknown opponent said in the Neofan language, though butchering it considerably, meaning he wasn’t used to speaking it…as well as indicating that he knew a great deal about Plausious’s race. “It’s an impressive find, given your situation, but unfortunately it ends my little experiment.”

“Who are you?” Plausious asked, coming to a stop on the edge of the shore near the tree line, giving them several strides of distance between each other, with the individual being a third taller than Plausious, though thinner in build.

“An observer from a very distant galaxy. A lesser peer of mine reported your inexplicable presence here, and your singular efforts to survive with no way off the planet against an army of Hadarak. When you did not die as expected, I grew curious and replaced him…and I have been observing you ever since.”

“Why do the Hadarak not kill you?”

“Because they obey me. The Neofan do not know as much as you believe you do. The Hadarak are tools of my race and others, and we need to craft our tools to face current and future threats. When we encounter unique resistance we study it, as I have been studying you and directing the Hadarak to try different strategies, to adapt to your skills and perseverance. They have failed every time, and with each failure we learn and I grow more respectful of you. But recently the combat ended, the experiment paused, because you found this place to hide,” he said, gesturing to the chamber around them with upraised arms tense with pale blue muscle that was not sculpted as Plausious’s was, suggesting a deficit  in physical strength despite his size advantage.

“Why did you not track me before?”

“It was a test of the Hadarak, not my skills. I was determined to stay and learn from your anomaly of a conflict until you were dead, but you outsmarted me and ended my experiment prematurely. I should kill you, but given all you have accomplished and the data I’ve gathered, I am willing to give you a reprieve.”

“In what form?” Plausious asked suspiciously.

“First, tell me how you came to be here?”

“I came here to seek single combat with the Hadarak, to test my skills. When I was alone on the planet my crew betrayed me, destroyed my landing craft, and marooned me here in a coup.”

“A coup? Of what?”

“I am Reignor Plausious, the leader of House Atriark. Do you know what this means?”

“I do. You are the splinter faction that has taken residence in this galaxy. And they left their leader here? For what purpose?”

“We do not kill each other out of respect for our longevity unless specific offenses are taken,” he said, almost spitting the words as he referred to his past life as if it were his own now. “We exile them instead.”

“So they removed you from power by leaving you here, and you foolishly gave them the opportunity to do so?”

“Their betrayal was not expected.”

“A colossal error on your part, but someone unwise would not have survived here as you have. What was your oversight?”

“What is your need to know?”

“Mere curiosity. Knowing your past may help me better understand how you could survive this long. What would you do if I returned you to your people? Avenge yourself against those that betrayed you.”

“They would be dealt with.”

“But surely they must have appointed another Reignor by now. Would they accept you back, or would they just kill you? I wouldn’t want to have your journey end in such an inauspicious manner.”

“I do not know the full reasons why they betrayed me, so I cannot answer that. Are you offering me safe passage off this planet?”

“I am. You have earned that, I think. I cannot take you to your hidden fortresses in the Rim, for Star Force blocks such passage. But if I take you to their nearest outposts, can you convince them to return you the rest of the way.”

“Most likely yes.”

“Very well then. I will give you a ship and order it to obey your commands until you reach your destination. How will you keep Star Force from destroying it on arrival?”

“What kind of ship are you speaking of?”

“A Hadarak one, of course. I can reconfigure the interior to carry you. Did you not know we could do so?”

“As you said earlier, there is much we do not know,” Plausious said as the larger unknown alien nodded its triangular head slightly. “And you are searching for additional information. Ask plainly.”

“Nothing of consequence. Technically I’m not supposed to be speaking with you at all, but I will simply report your death and that will be the end of it. One warrior to another, I will spare you. No one knows who you are other than me, and the Hadarak don’t comprehend things in the same way we do. From this point on you don’t exist and I return with my data on your inspiring defiance here. Although I will need a small tissue sample from your corpse. I am expect to retrieve as much.”

“And if I refuse?”

“It is nothing to concern yourself with. All I need is a scratch of tissue, enough for analysis. Consider it your travel purchase.”

“What is your name?”

“I do not exist, and therefore do not have a name. I could not let you return with information of consequence, and my existence is already a small breach if Star Force hasn’t already shared with you knowledge of our existence. By chance have they?”

“Not to my knowledge, but I’ve been away for some time.”

“Of course you have been. That was foolish of me to ask. Tell me, what have you been eating down here? You haven’t stolen Hadarak food in quite some time.”

“I manage,” he said, almost saying ‘we’ and catching himself in time. Perhaps this individual did not know of his traveling companion…or did not care.

With that thought he sensed behind him to see if the Ren’mak was still there, only to feel him much closer and perched in a tree watching them.

“I understand your dislike for me. I am, after all, the leader of the enemy that has been trying to kill you. There are other questions I could ask, but I will spare you them and send you on your way before your latent ire overwhelms your wisdom and encourages you to attack me out of mistrust.”

“Should I trust that this is not some trap?”

“Difficult, I know. But I did not bring the Hadarak down here with me, and I am not attacking you, so I…hope that gesture is worth something,” he said, hesitating.

That hesitation made Plausious worry about the Ren’mak, and if he had just been discovered, so he reached out telepathically ready to tell him what to do when he sensed his opponent talking to it as well and ordering it to quietly fly back up into the shaft and wait there to relay his orders as he sent his own ire at it for violating his command not to come down here…but he wasn’t going to kill it, Plausious suspected, for he hoped that he hadn’t seen it yet.

But when the Ren’mak refused his order and took flight, not away from them but towards Plausious out of fear, his opponent flicked a hand in its direction, abandoning subtlety, and launched an Essence attack at it, knowing full well that Plausious would see it and that it would make a liar of him.

Such things occurred quickly, and if the Reignor had not been worried about the Ren’mak and aware of his location and danger, he would not have seen it coming. Had he thought about it he would have waited too long, for only an instant reaction could have intervened in time.

So it wasn’t a calculation. It wasn’t logic or forethought. It was the acceptance to act on a well-practiced protective instinct, though he knew that the fragile mercy he was being given would be in jeopardy.

After all the time he had spent with the Ren’mak, Plausious didn’t hesitate in the slightest.

He sent a protective bubble to his friend while simultaneously sending a wave of Essence in front of it to diminish or deflect the attack…which resulted in several nearby trees puffing into dust plumes as they were disintegrated.

And in that moment his opponent’s expression turned dark at his audacity, with Plausious knowing that his safe passage out of here was irrevocably gone.

7

His nameless opponent sneered at the Neofan as the Ren’mak flew up and hovered behind him chirping away at him in warning. “I was going to send you back to cause trouble,” he said, slowly raising a hand. “But you’re not worth the effort.”

Plausious grabbed the Ren’mak and shoved him back so fast it looked like he was fired as a projectile. He sent a firm and fast order to him to run…then after that he had no time to focus on his friend as an Essence wave hit him and cascaded over his nullification shield, rippling with the concussive impact while mutually disappearing along with Plausious’s outer layers of his defense. The nullification shield was the easiest defense possible, but also the most costly in terms of energy. It also had the advantage of being able to counter all types of Essence attacks, and not knowing what was coming his way, Plausious had chosen wisely.

He felt his barrier get chunked by the attack, then another and another followed it in rapid succession, with him knowing his opponent was trying to wear him down rather than overpower him. Plausious delved into his stored energy to reinforce his shield, letting his opponent hammer him with multiple types of attacks, each of which he was able to see and catalog, with only one being new to him.

His opponent stood with his arm raised, throwing the invisible energy towards him while taking a few slow steps to begin closing the distance between them…and in that moment Plausious realized something. The disgust and hate emanating from his opponent did not match the reserved attack pattern he was using. This patient, attrition-based technique was something a calm opponent would use, not someone so irate their emotions were spilling over into their telepathy for all to sense.

No. His opponent was not using strategy. He was throwing as hard of attacks against Plausious as he could manage, one after another in a rage.

And Plausious could absorb them all.

Essence generation was not a simple as draining a container…not when that container was your body. The rate of drawdown was dependent on skill development, with new users only able to remove a small, steady flow at the beginning. Massive power dumps required practice and temperament of the body, otherwise such power could not be unleashed so rapidly. When it was drawn out too fast, as in the case of the apocalypse monsters, it ripped the body apart, which was why there was natural inhibitors against Essence drain. If there were not, one could conceivably drain their full lifeforce in a single moment.

The amount of Essence being thrown at Plausious, in a cumulative sense, was impressive, but each attack seemed capped at a certain amount, as if his opponent could not summon more than this amount, no matter what form he sent it in.

But the Reignor’s cap was heightened greatly by his time spent in spontaneous battle where he did not have the luxury of slow, methodical combat, and he knew he could generate more than that.

He continued to absorb the attacks, pouring more Essence into his diminishing shield, as he tried to determine if his opponent was generating this energy or was drawing it from a technological source. If it was technological it would come in a different ‘flavor’ than his own, and he was sensing only one. Perhaps he had a reserve and was not yet using it. Plausious did not know, but if he let this exchange occur in this fashion, the nullification shield would drain the Reignor far more than if he started using specific defensive techniques to parry those coming at him.

But if something new hit him, it might slip through. No, he had an opportunity now, in the beginning of what could be a long exchange of Essence until one ran out or defeated the other through skill…for there was a third way to win fights if you had a power differential.

And that was to overwhelm your opponent early, to give them so much attack that they couldn’t defend against it even if they had ample power in reserve…for that reserve flowed through your body, and there was a limiting facto there as well with regards to how much you could channel.

And that amount was a multiple of your draw cap.

Plausious might be able to win this in the long game, but then again he might lose if this opponent had a personal well hidden in reserve…or had a higher Essence count within him, due to his body size and age. There was no way of knowing here and now while under attack, but his opponent was behaving as if he was at max cap, and the Reignor decided to test whether that was true or not.

His nullification field morphed into a static shield, taking the hits as if it was armor rather than a wall of water meeting and cancelling out an attacking flame. His opponent altered his Essence output into a different type of attack that would defeat such a static shield…but Plausious layered another type behind it, and it caught the fracture technique, compressing it into a short lived orb that the Neofan could make use of, absorbing, transforming, scattering, deflecting…or sending it right back at his opponent.

Plausious chose the latter, ramming it directly at him and forcing him to shield against it…and he took it poorly, suggesting he was either not expecting the Neofan to be able to do that, or he was not accustomed to defending against large Essence attacks.

Could he really be that naïve? Plausious wondered, launching a snaking, flanking attack as two conduits of Essence reached out from his torso like rivers and arced around towards his opponent, but avoiding the straight line conduit between them that was filled with another attack and deflection and many more to come in rapid fire sequence.

The two snakes made it almost all the way to his opponent before one of them was smacked aside, with the redirect breaking Plausious’s hold on it…causing the Essence to disperse harmlessly.

But the other one actually hit his opponent in the leg, tearing into his body and rending his flesh in a way that turned it into paste that then dripped out of the crater now in his lower left hip.

A spherical defense shield went up around him, with his attacks momentarily stopped as he countered his rapid bleeding with a crust-hold that turned his exposed flesh into a hard char…painful, but useful when you didn’t have time to deal with injuries in a fight.

The reprieve didn’t last long, with a penetrating attack coming that would get through most basic shields, but Plausious had been trained during his Construction in all the basic techniques, along with garnering many more over his years along with a biological energy shield matrix that he could augment with Essence. He generated that one easily, and the piercing attack broke through half way, then faltered for not having enough power to finish.

Plausious then sent a concussion wave towards his opponent, but without Essence enhancement…and it caught him off guard, for his defenses were only set for Essence attacks or Essence-enhanced ones. The modified grapple-energy hit his opponent like a giant boulder and knocked him backwards into the lake, generating a big splash as his body hit, as well as a brief moment of opportunity for Plausious to scan behind him to find the Ren’mak.

He had to shove it back again, for it was flying too close.

Stay back. One attack from him and you will be killed. Let me handle this while you watch the tunnel overhead. If Hadarak or anything else comes down, warn me. That is your task. Now go! he yelled telepathically as he modulated another shield to deflect a new attack, one that he actually reflected backwards into the water between them…with it vaporizing it into even more mist, making it impossible to see visually.

He sidestepped on instinct…only to have another attack fly past him.

He can’t feel my location.

Plausious used the moment of impunity to charge a technique that could not be release immediately. It was an overload beam, designed not to do much damage, but to force the opponent to respond to it with a pushback of raw Essence. Some techniques could be used to buffer it, but if his opponent did not know them, this would come down to a contest of who could generate more Essence faster rather than in longevity.

The mist and fog ahead of them split suddenly as his opponent used some technique to clear it away, not just from near them, but from half the maksack. Plausious didn’t pay attention to it, charging his attack as much as he could so the initial pop would force his opponent to respond in kind.

As soon as he saw his eyes line up with his new position, Plausious knew another attack was coming and he had no shield up, so he didn’t wait any longer. He released the column of energy with an extra surge of the built up Essence at the beginning directly towards his taller opponent…with it hitting on a hasty shield for a moment before the counter push began, one Essence flow against another with little modulation.

The hit against the shield had moved him back further into the water, with him now in it up to his waist, as he pushed both hands forward, using them as twin conduits for the energy flowing out of him. Both fighters could see it in their Essence vision, one beam splashing off the other in a fountain spray between them…then that spray began to move away from his opponent and towards Plausious, meaning he was losing the test of strength.

Or so his opponent thought.

Plausious was still feeling him out and not using his max output. He was using his personal well to recharge himself throughout, but he wasn’t drawing on it for extra output. The Reignor was using his natural strength only, still waiting for his opponent to tap into his own well, but so far he had not.

The fountain spray marking the intersection of the two waves moved out to the halfway point then stopped as Plausious increased his pressure, holding it there for a short period of time waiting for a response. When none came he pushed a little harder, seeing the spray start to move back towards his opponent…which was when Plausious realized he had been attacking at full power this entire time.

The Reignor upped his pressure to his own max production cap, still not overdrawing on his well. That was his fallback if needed, but this was the most his body could naturally produce moment to moment, and he shoved the spray mark back towards his opponent so fast he would have to respond by upping his own, or using some technique to block or redirect it.

He did neither.

Plausious’s wave overwhelmed his opponent and hit his body, knocking him backwards further out into the lake as well as saturating the other person with a different type of Essence. That had a numbing effect, for it did not match the body.

And into that numbness Plausious transformed his wave into a spike, sending the hard Essence object down through the stream towards his opponent as he lay flat on his back and being shoved further out into the lake by the pressure.

It almost missed him, but the Reignor altered its direction at the last moment to hit him in the lower torso. He expected another shield to at least deflect it, if not absorb it. Or perhaps a melting technique against the basic Essence tools that Plausious had learned to forge early in his life and then master later.

But nothing happened. Either his opponent was too numb, too distracted, or didn’t have the wherewithal to do anything other than push back with his weaker Essence stream, for when the spike hit it dove into his body so easily it passed all the way through and out his back, down into the water and hit one of the eels below that were moving up to strike at the easy target.

The eel died from the impact before his spike disintegrated, but the others didn’t even notice, swimming up and biting at his opponent’s arms and legs with a furious appetite that reeked of the anti-code.

Plausious felt no more Essence generation within his opponent, and he was not going to watch him get eaten alive, so he reached out with his grapple field, enhanced it with Essence, and plucked him out of the water while flicking off the eels that were hanging on him as he dragged them into the air.

They thudded back down into the water and swam off while Plausious pulled his opponent’s body over to the shore and set it down there, having to once again push the Ren’mak back as it tried to fly towards him from its position at the top of the maksack.

Wait, he warned, walking up to his opponent and looking down at him moving slightly against the pain of the gaping hole in his abdomen along with the lesser chunks of his arms and legs that had been chewed out.

Plausious was on guard for another attack, or at least a few words from him, but neither came. He writhed around for a few moments, then grew still as his body failed him. Soon Plausious saw his remaining Essence swell and puff outwards, disappearing quickly back into the Essence realm as his Core was no longer here to ground it.

“He is dead,” he told the Ren’mak. “Watch the tunnel overhead. I must attend to something and I need to focus. I will be vulnerable, so you must warn me if something comes down. Do you understand? I need your help to guard me.”

The Ren’mak thought he was being told to go away again, but then it realized Plausious was asking for help, and he was eager to do something so he immediately agreed and not only flew up near the recently bored tunnel, but into it so he could see the daylight far above and pick up any silhouette that should come down it.

“Not that close,” Plausious warned. “They may fire their weapon again. Keep the rock between you and the surface, and look up at an angle.”

The Ren’mak understood, thankfully, and move back down and aside, taking up a proper sentry position as Plausious stood over the body of his unknown opponent.

He extended his wings out wide, flexing them several times as he prepared himself for a distasteful task. Something he had done several times on Hadarak corpses to keep himself alive here, and something he never wanted to do again…but he needed to one more time, and while it was not a violation of the natural code, it did violate the respect he believed a corpse should be afforded.

His opponent was dead. He was certain of this as his Core was no longer visible, but he checked with an Essence bounce one more time, finding it completely empty of both Core or Essence. Then he knelt down beside the body and impaled it with several of the spikes on both wings, sinking them in deep as they began to liquefy and suck in tissue from the corpse.

Plausious avoided his head, drawing tissue only from the lower portion of his body as he simultaneously placed a hand on his head. Doing both was tricky, but decay would diminish both techniques and he knew he could not waste this moment. The dead mind was still fresh, and he forced his way into it, raiding it for memories as he inventoried the unknown race’s tissues, sifting through its construction and jettisoning the tissue he was not interested in.

There were several abilities he did not possess that could be useful, but he would have to abandon some abilities already in his wings, for they were nearly at maximum tissue density and he did not favor making them any larger. Plus, doing so would take time and this technique must be done immediately, or the harvested tissue would become useless. Only a recently dead corpse was applicable, for reasons the Neofan scientists still could not completely understand. Whoever had created this biotechnology long ago had a knowledge greater than the Neofan’s, but he guessed they were rooted in the anti-code, which was another reason why he did not like using it.

Plausious discarded the useful tissues as he searched for something else, both in the body and his in the memories, ignoring a treasure trove of information that he only briefly browsed. Information on his peers, their mission in this galaxy, where he had come from, the ongoing war against Star Force, wars against others in distant galaxies, and many things that were agonizingly put aside as he searched for the knowledge of how he was able to control the Hadarak.

It took a considerable amount of looking, but eventually he discovered both the mental commands and the tissue required for it…which was located in his head. That was why it wasn’t obvious. Plausious, knowing where it was now, sifted through as many memories as he could, not possessing the ability to download them as other Neofan were able. He regretted never absorbing that ability when he had the chance, but survival now took priority, and before the tissues could degrade close to the useless point he abandoned the memory raid and began to dissolve parts of his brain.

The tissues flowed into his wings, where he sifted out the valuable parts and discarded the rest…with his wings looking like they were bleeding as they discharged the excess. But the tissues that allowed him to transmit to the Hadarak, as well as to produce the telepathic aura that identified them as non-combatants within the hive mind, Plausious took into himself and triggered a rending.

And it was a rending of him, not the corpse. Select spots in his wings were eviscerated in a painful, fast upgrading process, destroying what was there before as they grew new tissue based on the harvested sample…without it being a direct copy. How that worked he still did not know, but the advancement hurt greatly, and if he should be attacked now he could barely defend himself, for the pain was blinding.

But when he woke from it, he could sense the Ren’mak in a new way. And beyond them, up on the surface, he could feel fainter signals, all crisscrossing with the others. It wasn’t true telepathy, but something else entirely.

This was what the Hadarak referred to as the ‘current.’ And the stolen memories of how to use it made it clear he could not take command of the Hadarak at large, only override them locally. The current itself was being transmitted from the Core of the galaxy, then copied and delivered to units further out, so it wasn’t an active transmission, more of a song that directed them to do what was required. Orders without specific parameters. Missions without endings. They were more like protocols, and within those protocols all Hadarak must function.

Plausious now understood why the Ren’mak had been marked for death. It had gone beyond the protocols, however briefly, and the protocols were clear about what to do in such matters.

But there were layers. The smaller Hadarak got the least of it, and Plausious was getting all of it streaming into his mind through his wings, and it was a sickening sensation. The song was sour, distorted with the anti-code, but he could understand it now, and with some practice, he should be able to command the Hadarak around him enough to keep them away from the Ren’mak and himself.

If he was right, their war for survival on this planet just got put on pause. They could travel up to the surface and take supplies from the Hadarak without having to fight for them…unless there was another individual such as this one in the system. Plausious needed to find that out sooner rather than later.

The memories that could have told him that were now irretrievable as chunks of his brain had been turned into goo, with the remaining parts suitable for more tissue harvesting, but he had what he needed.

Plausious stood up, withdrawing his wing spikes from the corpse, and just held still as both his wings and his mind tried to process the whirlwind of new information and upgrades taking hold of him.

When he opened his eyes a long time later, he did so with a new understanding of the universe.

“Come down,” he told the Ren’mak. “I am finished. We should be safe now.”

The Ren’mak happily flew to him and landed on his outstretched arm, with the Neofan’s other hand stroking its head affectionately. “I feared I would lose you, my friend. You are recklessly loyal.”

It squawked back, not understanding the word ‘recklessly,’ so Plausious explained with telepathy. “I need to fly up to the surface and check on something. Stay on my body and I will protect you, but I do not think the Hadarak will bother us further, as long as we are together. If you are alone, they will attack you, so stay with me.”

The Ren’mak chirped the equivalent of ‘of course,’ and was quite happy to accept that order.

Plausious looked around at the maksack, with the mist only gradually retaking the cleared area as it flowed back in. He’d never seen it this clear before, and he did not like the idea of leaving their home. They didn’t have to. They could stay down here as long as they liked, but now that they had new options it would be irresponsible not to make use of them.

Plausious began to slowly fly up towards the tunnel, with the Ren’mak crawling on his arm to get up to his left shoulder where it would happily perch for some time as the Reignor went to test his new command abilities…

8

Command of the Hadarak was not a simple genetic passcode. It was a skill that Plausious had to work to develop as his tissues advanced with use. In the beginning it made the Hadarak ignore him…except for his Ren’mak. He had to defend it time and again until he could sense the Hadarak enough to begin speaking to them.

It was the equivalent of a bare whisper at first, but it was enough to turn some of them away as he defended the now fast access route to the maksack. He did not give it up, and continued to live there as he worked to explore his new potential while digging through the stolen memories as much as he could. They did not remain vivid, but the information they contained was important. How he had controlled the Hadarak was the most important part, and the Reignor’s current training was based off those memories of techniques, but the other stuff he had briefly crossed paths with held far greater implications.

Star Force was in the Galactic Core, and a great war was ongoing there…and the Veloqueen were there as well. The one he had stolen the memories from knew a little of it as he waited for the expected recall order, which had not manifested yet. All of the ‘overseers’ of the Hadarak would leave this galaxy long before the gateways were completely lost, and they would let their troops continue to fight and die without them.

But they were still here for now, roaming the massive amount of Hadarak territory looking for things. Ancient things. New things. Curious things. The conquest by the Hadarak was not just about destruction, but detection as well, as if they were looting the galaxy by checking in every system rather than tracking things down by inference or leads. And they were gathering a lot, all of which would be taken back to the Galactic Core and studied there…except for the really important stuff.

It was being transported outside the galaxy to something called a Ghei’stei. Plausious had no translation for it, but he knew there wasn’t one in this galaxy, and it was linked somehow to the Endgame.

Or rather the false one. Plausious could see it now. From the Neofan perspective, the Hadarak perspective, and from his own. It was clear as day now, and in his Vision skill he could see what was taking place, and what would take place…or at least what openings there were for such actions to occur. And one thing was made abundantly clear.

The Neofan and their other ‘peers’ vying for possession of all pre-born were pursuing a hollow goal. The pre-born were not the trigger for the endgame, but they were part of it. A short cut to it in a very, very long game, and the more you had the better your slim odds were of attempting to trigger it.

But the Reignor now knew the key element, and that was the natural code. It wasn’t just an act of honor, but the clues to triggering the Endgame. The Endgame was something only those who utilized the natural code could achieve. The anti-code could not do it, and would in fact destroy any attempt at the Endgame. That’s why the elder races had their non-interference pact. They were all at least in some part infected with the anti-code, and the anti-code told you to destroy each other, whether it be now or later.

So they were postponing the carnage for later in order to maintain what they had built…but the anti-code was the antithesis of building. It would always destroy, for that was what it was for. To reset the universe back to the default level. The primitive level. The level of horrors. Kill or be killed. Kill to eat. Steal, pillage, destroy. And live very short lives even if you survived.

The natural code taught you how to defy this. How to survive in the harshness of the physical elements. How to work together, protect each other, and build technology. How to live forever. And how to use the pockets of peace and tranquility to pursue ascension in its many forms.

The primitive universe did not allow time or opportunity for this, with every moment being a struggle for survival. That’s why the Endgame was seemingly unattainable. A civilization had to tame the universe…or at least a pocket of it…to use as a breeding ground for the ascension of those that would strive to trigger the Endgame.

Star Force was doing it. Plausious could see that clearly now, though they didn’t understand what they were doing. They were following the code, as others could, and probably as others had in the distant past…only to fail and have everything reset, devoured by the anti-code in one fashion or another, but leaving behind tools that others had picked up and used, just as the Neofan had. Just as the Bond of Resistance had in discovering the intergalactic transportation network. And just as the Hadarak were searching for now.

But it was useless to them in terms of the Endgame. The natural code was not a luxury or even the preferred path to it. It was the only path. It was the Endgame.

Plausious didn’t know exactly what would happen, but he could feel it now. The natural code had to be implemented on a large scale. The very basic and default anti-code loaded into the universe had to be challenged and overcome, not in the moment, but to replace it.

It was like a giant, cruel puzzle that had to be solved, and to do so you had to put right everything that was out of place. And once you did…something would happen. The Reignor knew it now, something in his pre-born knowledge was unlocking and he could finally see it. And he knew he had this knowledge given to him to use in the quest for the Endgame, but not alone. The Endgame was a group effort, and he had to lead the others towards it. It was the very purpose of the universe itself, and when a race tried and failed, the universe would reset giving an opportunity for another to try, over and over again, with the anti-code eating away at the advancements made.

But the universe was also adapting. The lifesprings were creating new upgrades, so it wasn’t exactly the same default settings being replayed. Perhaps you could nudge the default state one way or another over time unwittingly. Maybe the universe itself didn’t know how to achieve the Endgame, and was trying different alterations to the base code in order to find one that worked. Giving the people here different opportunities to see if someone would rise to the challenge before them.

And in that moment Plausious knew that Star Force was destined to trigger the Endgame, sooner or later. They couldn’t help it. It was the very foundation of their empire, created by those that followed the natural code, without realizing the larger implications of what they were doing.

“We have to get out of here,” he told the Ren’mak one day, sitting on the porch of their dwelling while keeping a mental eye on the shaft in case the other Hadarak came down it again needing to be shooed back up and away. “There are people out there that need my help.”

The Ren’mak squawked in fear, with Plausious shaking his head firmly.

“I am not leaving you here. Where I go, you go. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

The Ren’mak said an almost audible ‘yes,’ still finding it hard to pronounce Star Force words, for the alterations made to his vocal chords by the Neofan were not yet complete.

“We could try to use the warship,” he said, referring to the one his opponent had ridden in. Plausious had actually called it down to the planet earlier and went inside the small compartments in its body, vaguely remembering how to order them to be grown, but he did not like the idea of not commanding his own ship and trusting his fate to the ship itself, which could ignore him and do whatever it wanted…or was told to do by the current. “But I think that’s too risky. I’m going to have to grow our own, and I don’t know how to do that yet. I have to learn. But when I do, we’ll use it to leave this planet.”

The Ren’mak asked where they would go, not having known anything other than this planet given that it had been born here. Somehow Plausious found that sad.

“We have to find Star Force. They will be the closest. If we can get to them we will be safe, but after that I will have to leave them and return to my people. There will be a fight,” he warned. “And if you want to help me, you have to learn to work with me and not panic. I won’t let you fight with me again until you learn how to do so properly. So let’s start working on your combat training,” he said, standing up and telepathically calling the Ren’mak to his arm.

The little flyer came as ordered.

“Good. You listened to me and obeyed, but when you are afraid you do not always obey. I will never betray you, my friend, and you need to trust in my orders. But to do that you need experience rather than faith. And for experience we must have some peril,” he said, looking around and envisioning training apparatus. It didn’t take long for him to mentally plot out what materials to use to make it without having to involve the Hadarak, and soon he was already assigning himself a lot of new work to do.

But until then, some basic flying would suffice.

“You have to learn to fly with me, not just behind me, so we’re going to practice,” he said, jumping into the air and getting some height in the mild fog that was far less dense ever since they’d gotten their surface vent. “Start beside me, and keep within my arm’s length.”

He tossed the Ren’mak off his arm and it hovered nearby, then he started moving and had to coach the Ren’mak into the appropriate position, but this task it learned quickly, and soon they were flying from one treetop to another, swerving around them and darting back across their path in a sort of obstacle course, learning how each moved and responded to the other in the basic building blocks of teamwork rather than the limited spectrum of orders and obedience.

The Ren’mak learned faster than Plausious did, and his excursions to the surface to interface with the Hadarak and cause them to grow different things, including buildings, was troublesome. It was as if he had only a partial instruction manual, and that was stolen and murky. His new grown tissue did not have any explanation with it, only potential to be altered into what was needed. It did not give options to choose from, which was the most frustrating part of this.

But there was a pathway here to escape, and Plausious did not hesitate to pursue it. Now that the Hadarak attacks against him had stopped, and he had enough telepathic command to keep them from coming after the Ren’mak, he could spend his time as he wished, and that was a luxury he had thought a distant memory.

With the inevitable Endgame clock ticking in his mind, he dare not waste a day cycle in matters contrary to their escape from this planet, but in the downtime between tasks he pondered other mysteries of the universe, his own life, and that of his friend. It seemed he had no purpose now, and how many other quadrillions upon quadrillions of people were born into situations where they had no purpose other than to be eaten by others.

The universe was a very grim place, and the Endgame…whatever it was…did not justify all this suffering, torture, and death. The natural code was not just part of a game, it was an act of defiance against this primitive, natural state. But the natural code seemed to be imbedded in people more than the anti-code. At least the potential for it.

But then why wasn’t it default? Why was the universe so horrific? He appreciated the challenge before him, perhaps not as much as Star Force did, but he saw it. Yet, what of all of these people that had no clue what was going on and were only trying to survive to see tomorrow?

Plausious looked at the Ren’mak sitting on a branch as the Neofan ate into the trunk of one of the trees he did not need to grow foodstuffs using his deconstruction ability. His fingertips slowly cut through it as he sent out a gentle pulse, feeling every worm and creature out there with a Core in it. Why were they here? They had no chance of pursuing the Endgame. Were they the precursors for new races like his own billions of years into the future? If that was so, what were all of these people supposed to do other than provide experience for the universe to upgrade their genetics?

The Reignor could see no purpose for them. None at all. But they were here and they needed help. The natural code demanded he help them, but help them to do what? Keep them alive, obviously, but to what end? What was their mission for him to help them achieve? Did they have a mission? Did they have a purpose?

What was going on with the universe?

And the old question of how it all began still remained unanswered. Not even a single plausible theory had been put forth. For when you backtrack to the beginning the inevitable question always formed.

What happened before that?

For all his experience and his pre-born skill, he too did not know what was going on. But he could see pieces of it. Pieces that others could not. And the natural code called for him to use those pieces and take advantage of the opportunities he had to help others. To ascend his own abilities. And to fix the wrongness in the galaxy.

But also, to what end? What was going to happen with the Endgame? He knew it wouldn’t be the end of the universe. But could there even be an end? What would happen after that?

The beginning and the end were not logical, and with regards to a person’s Core you had no access to either. You came from the Essence realm and returned to it upon death. What happened before and after was unknown, and Plausious reminded himself that he would probably never know the answer to these questions. But he was here, now, and that fact wasn’t dependent on his understanding.

It was a harsh truth. He had to face today even if he understood nothing…and so did they.

All the little Essence reflections showed thousands upon thousands of people in the maksack. Some large, some not so much, and others tiny burrowing through the dirt or swimming in the lake. So many people in such primitive bodies. Many so primitive he could not converse with them even using telepathy.

There was an old Neofan legend of a Master so wise and powerful he had taken the Core out of a primitive slug and put it into a Neofan body. How this was done, or if it was just fiction, nobody knew. But the story said after great difficulty the transfer was made, and the person had to learn anew despite the body of an adult being used. It was lethargic, barely able to quiver, but with a lot of telepathic therapy and prodding, the Core began to adjust to the radically advanced body, and little by little learned to use it.

After a long period of time the person learned to talk, and after she had a good understanding of words, the Master asked the now Neofan what it was like to be a slug.

The female of course said she remembered nothing, for the slug’s brain and memories had not been transferred, but it was always suspected that some learning occurred in the Core itself and traveled with it. Upon deep reflection the female some time later said that she had remembered something. A long tunnel whose purpose was to travel down it. Always moving forward. Her purpose was to move forward. That much she remembered.

The Master looked down at his own hands and legs, having an epiphany. All life was meant to move forward. To where he did not know, nor did others. But everything was meant to move, not to remain still or remain the same. Everything moved forward.

Plausious had always remembered that story, and took it as a reminder now, that he didn’t need to see far ahead or far behind to move forward. He only needed to see one step ahead, and sometimes not even that. He could not know the beginnings of the universe, or even of himself or the Ren’mak, but he could know the next step for both.

And that next step was training, for them both, enroute to growing a ship of their own…one without a Core in it…and using it to escape this planet. Everything else that he could envision beyond that didn’t matter in the here and now. He would get to those if and when they succeeded. And that knowledge gave him comfort.

He didn’t need to know what was going on with the universe to live in it. And he was going to live in it regardless, so Plausious didn’t spent too much time in mental wonderings about things he could not observe or investigate. But every now and then he came back to these musings, realizing the magnitude of the mystery everyone so blissfully ignored as they paid attention to their next step.

The natural code was here, though, and it was a guide for those that could find it and use it…and the more he used it, the more he understood of it. And a good chunk of that was thanks to the Ren’mak, for there were aspects of the Code he had not understood until it had found him and they had bonded against their mutual enemies.

Whatever was coming in the future, he wanted the Ren’mak with him, but he knew the dangers were great. He would have to find a way, because the Ren’mak deserved more than to be swatted aside as a target of the greater powers. All of them did, Plausious thought as he once again sent out an Essence pulse to see where everyone was. They all deserved better than they got.

And for that reason, part of him would forever be angry with the universe. That too, he had learned, was part of the natural code. The universe was in violation of it, and such violation could never be tolerated or condoned.

And sadly, these people stuck in this primitive cage, could never be truly saved. At least Plausious did not know how to save them, other than keeping them alive a bit longer. And a bit longer was never good enough.

But to the Ren’mak a bit longer had changed everything for it, so Plausious couldn’t just write them off and ignore their plight. Which was why he was still spending time working on the eels. He hoped he’d find a solution for them before it was time to leave here. Both for their sake, and their victims.

The thought of leaving still didn’t feel real. As if it was just an academic matter after all the time he had spent here. His past life was a shrouded memory, and he had not truly found himself until he was marooned here. A small part of him did not want to leave to return to the other Neofan, but he knew had had to. He had to keep moving forward.

And something about that scared him.

9

Plausious left his dwelling for the last time, leaving it as it was, no tear down, no destruction. He just flew up and out the tunnel to the planet’s surface with the Ren’mak beside him, then across the landscape to the small Hadarak outpost that had grown him a new starship.

It had taken a long time to learn how, and even longer to gather the necessary resources and craft them into what he needed, for there was no genetic blueprint in the Hadarak codex that he could just activate. He had to design it based off of what was already there, mixing and matching, and rewriting…all of which he had to teach himself how to do.

The landscape was littered with his experiments. Small chunks of biotech, partial hulls of ships, and large sheets of armor that hadn’t developed properly. Rather than recycle it he just left it there and got new components from the Hadarak supply lines, but he always had to divert them personally, for if there was a way to implement planet-wide orders into the Hadarak command system, he hadn’t figured out how yet.

But he no longer needed to. His ship was complete, and had already done a remote test run around the star system and come back to him. His own foodstuffs were loaded up inside, and final fueling of the biomatter the ship itself would need to eat during their one-way journey across the galaxy had been completed last day cycle. All that was left to do was get onboard and go.

Ironically the Neofan was having a harder time leaving than the Ren’mak, who just wanted to be wherever Plausious was. The Reignor had been holding himself together for so long, he didn’t realize how much until he was at the point of release. He should not have survived, and still did not know how he had long, long ago. He had grown so much in his time here, it felt like a second life…a real life after having sleepwalked through his first one.

The Temples were not his true home. And Utovi where he had been born was now lost to the Neofan. This makeshift dwelling in this maksack was the only real home he had now, and he was willingly leaving it behind, never to return again.

He knew he had to, but something about it didn’t feel right.

He considered that as he flew across the planet, with the other Hadarak keeping clear of his telepathic presence as the Ren’mak kept close to him. If it strayed it would still come under attack, for Plausious hadn’t figured out how to unmark it. Somehow they identified it as deviant, even when Plausious assumed command of it. That was one mystery, among many, that he was also leaving behind.

The flight took a while, and he wasn’t rushing. By the time he got in sight of the ship, which was larger than most Hadarak warships, he was still far from the massive growth. Plausious had had to add extra engines to get it up to decent speed, for the Hadarak were slow, and this journey was not going to be without danger. He also had added large cargo holds to carry their extra food, not knowing how long their trip would take. The quicker the travel could take place the better, and without a map all he could do was head for the Core or for the Rim, and the only sure way of finding Star Force was to head for the rim and eventually run into their Grand Border.

He knew approximately where this system was, and it was a long way to the Grand Border. If his ship malfunctioned, was damaged, or grew ill, they would die with it, and he did all the checks he could think of except ordering it to go interstellar on its own. There was no person at the controls, and he did not know how to preprogram it sufficiently for that type of test. While in this system he could reach out to it through massive telepathic transmitters in various Hadarak across the system. Through them he could control the ship and bring it back to the planet, and had done so flawlessly, so there was really nothing else to do to maximize their odds…other than build a second ship.

But that was not a practical endeavor. He needed to return, even if part of him was clinging to this planet. He did not want to return to the Neofan and that stagnant life, but he had a responsibility as Reignor, even in exile, and his race had to take its rightful place in the war to come.

And they were far from ready.

Plausious flew up to the top of the elongated ship, built similar to Star Force designs with a large amount of armor on the nose and less elsewhere to deal with debris during jumps. With no shields those jumps would be considerably more dangerous, which was why he had made the armor thicker than he thought necessary.

He might have to stop off in other systems to make repairs…which meant finding resources for the ship to eat and use to heal itself. Hopefully that wouldn’t be necessary, and he had planned out enough supplies to hopefully keep moving constant until they found a Star Force system.

“Are you ready?” he asked the Ren’mak as they flew the last few seconds on this planet.

“I am,” it said with a heavy accent. “Are you afraid?”

“No. But I feel uneasy.”

“Does it hurt?” the Ren’mak asked as they landed on the biologically armored hull.

“Does what hurt?”

“Flying in space.”

“No. Not if we stay inside the ship. But if we go outside it we die. I have traveled through space many times. It is boring. Do you want to stay?”

“I want to stay with you. The Hadarak want me dead. If I stay alone, they will kill me.”

“I know that. But if they would accept you, would you want to stay?”

The Ren’mak thought for a moment. “No. I want to see another planet. A planet where they will not kill me.”

Plausious smiled. “Very well, my brave little friend. Another planet it will be,” he said, telepathically triggering the top orifice to peel open. “Go inside.”

The Ren’mak hopped into a hover, then ducked down inside leaving the Reignor one last look at this bit of enemy territory that he was now welcome in. At least from the locals. He doubted their masters would permit him to live if they ever passed back this way.

And if Star Force and the Veloqueen were truly assaulting the Core, he doubted they would be back here again. Which meant he could effectively keep this conquered world if he wanted, and a bit of him wanted to and leave the other Neofan out of his path.

But he was a Reignor, and his vision of the future required action.

He took one last look around, then followed the Ren’mak inside and sealed up his living ship. Then he launched it up through the atmosphere, out to system center, then jumped it out on the best jumpline he could find starting their journey to the Grand Border.

After 298 jumps, fortune favored the Reignor. He was nowhere near the Grand Border, but when he came out of yet another short jump due to the limitations of his biological ship, it identified a convoy of vessels passing through nearby, coming out of an almost adjacent jumpline, and with hulls matching what the Reignor knew of Star Force vessels. Most were transports, he guessed, with a few having the telltale elongated Warship designs that his own vessel was patterned off of.

But he had no comm system that could interface with the technological vessels…yet he did have telepathy and an Essence boost.

Plausious calmed himself enough to focus, knowing he had to seize on this good fortune as well as avoid getting mistaken for Hadarak and attacked. He reached out as far as his telepathy would scan, finding it far too inadequate. He could yell in their direction, but he was not close enough to sense their minds even a small amount.

When he added Essence he picked up minds, but not enough to scan them. Seeing where they were was enough, and he focused on one particular ship that was closer than the others, for it was moving out towards him, breaking off from the convoy.

And it was a warship.

Star Force vessel. I am Reignor Plausious of the Neofan. The biological vessel I am in has been confiscated from the Hadarak. Do not fire on it. I have been attempting to reach you, but I have no comm system. I need your help to return home.

He repeated the same message, in the Star Force language, over and over again as the ship came closer, but no one responded. He kept transmitting until he realized those onboard the ship were exceptionally small, and not Human. By the time they were close enough for him to read, he was already within their weapons range…but they did not fire.

Plausious pumped as much Essence as he could into his telepathy and picked out one mind, trying to link with it so he could have a two way conversation…and after a startled few moments, the random Irondel in the ship began to translate for their ship’s captain.

Does your vessel have a dropship?

No it does not. But you can send a dropship and put a seal over the entry hatch so we can meet face to face.

That should work. Where is the hatch?

Top side just behind a small rise on the hull. It is the only mound on the vessel.

Will your ship allow it?

It is a biological machine without a Core inside it. It has no mind of its own.

Where did you steal it from?

I did not steal it. I grew it. I have been gone for a long time, and much has happened. We have been living on a Hadarak world and surviving through combat most of that time. Recently I acquired the ability to command the Hadarak on a limited basis, and I had them construct this ship so we could escape.

How many of you are there?

I am the only Neofan. I have one other with me. It is a small Hadarak that chose to disobey their commands. I found it when they were trying to kill it, and it now serves me. It is not a threat. It is a rescued victim and my friend. I believe Director Davis will be interested in meeting it, but I must be clear with you. He is under my protection. If anyone attempts to harm him, I will kill them.

How big is this Hadarak?

Far smaller than a Neofan.

What were you doing out here? How did you end up on a Hadarak world?

I came to engage in personal combat against the Hadarak to test a theory. My crew betrayed me and left me behind to die. I survived.

What did you say your name was?

Reignor Plausious, head of House Atriark.

The current Reignor is Truven, and we are currently at war with the Neofan. Well, a stalemate now, but we’re not friends. How long have you been out here?

Plausious frowned as the warship continued to get closer. What year is it?

158390

Then I have been on the Hadarak planet for 3422 years. I need you to arrange transport for me and my companion to wherever Director Davis currently resides.

We can’t promise that. We’re heading towards the Deep Core with supplies. But if we pass a convoy going the other way, we can transfer you to them…if you are telling us the truth.

Scan my vessel. Board it. Search as you like. I have nothing to hide.

You are bigger than us. Security is not easy. Do you understand?

Once I get onboard I could kill all of you easily, I understand, Plausious said bluntly. I will submit to whatever requirements you make, but my companion must not be harmed and must not be separated from me. Those are my only requirements.

We will send over a scout to confirm. Dropship is on its way.

There will be no resistance. Thank you.

Are you really the former Reignor?

I am the current Reignor until my death or abdication. I cannot be forcible exiled. Truven is not the legitimate Reignor, and when I return there will be a reckoning…

10

August 18, 158390

System 8221043 (Hadarak territory)

Low Stellar Orbit

Plausious stood inside a cargo bay on one of the Irondel cargo ships with the Ren’mak riding on his shoulder along with several crates of their food, for he wasn’t sure if they would have anything for his friend to eat. The rest was left on their ship, which was now sent to sit in a parking orbit further out into the system. The Reignor didn’t want to destroy it, even though it wasn’t a person and just a biological machine. Call it sentimentality, but he sent it with the proper telepathic codes so the Hadarak in the system would ignore it. And there it would sit for more than 100 years before it ran out of fuel, unless Star Force decided they wanted it and came back for it.

There would be more convoys passing through this enemy-held system, and any Hadarak units near the star that tried to get in their way would be destroyed by the warships escorting the cargo ships. No combat had occurred this time, and the transfer between ships had been a smooth one, but now that he was inside a technological ship again, the hard synthesized floor plates felt very foreign to his bare and now well-calloused feet.

A small hologram of an Irondel appeared to his right, standing only a few inches tall…then it enlarged to match his own height, with the quadruped/biped sitting back on its rear legs as it looked the Neofan in the eyes.

“Most of the quarters on this ship are too small for you to use, and the same goes for the corridors, but every Star Force ship has at least some accommodations for Archons to use and emergency quarters for anyone we need to take onboard. On the far wall,” he said, pointing with a furry hand, “you will find one such area open. We have adjusted it to Neofan biology, but we are unaware of what your companion requires.”

“We have been living in the forest for some time, so as long as we have access to water and a means to dispose of waste, we will be fine.”

“You spoke of food earlier?”

“I have brought an ample amount with me for the Ren’mak, while I have eaten yours before. I will endeavor to convert what you have for him over the course of our journey.”

“How will you do that?”

“Biochemical alteration is one of the Neofan’s enhanced abilities that I possess.”

“About that. I need your word you will not try to leave the area assigned to you, nor open the cargo canisters around you. I’ve agreed to take you onboard, so please do not make me regret it.”

“I am an ally of your Director Davis. I will not cause you trouble.”

“And him?”

“I will stay here,” the Ren’mak said, causing the Irondel to cock back his ears in surprise.

“I upgraded his vocal chords,” Plausious offered, “and taught him your language. But any requests or orders you have for him, send them through me. He knows nothing of your empire, and was born on the world where I was abandoned.”

“How did that happen? And where did you get that ship?”

“As I told the warship, my people betrayed me and left me out here to die to the Hadarak. As for the ship, I grew it after I encountered one of the Hadarak hidden leaders. I killed him and absorbed his ability to command the Hadarak on a limited basis. I used that power to have them grow a ship for me that I designed.”

“Are you saying you can give the Hadarak in this system orders?”

“I can when I am close to them. I have not yet developed far enough to assert widespread control across vast distances or to leave orders for them to follow.”

“Do the other Neofan possess this ability?”

“No. I alone do.”

“The Archons will want to know of this. It could be important.”

“I will be of little use in a large scale war, Irondel.”

“But if what you claim is true, then you can control some Hadarak and make them stop attacking us?”

“In close proximity I can cause them to shy off. I can’t make them not regard you as an enemy.”

“Does that one regard us as the enemy?”

“It has broken free of the Hadarak hive mind, and now follows my orders. I do not control it. It is my friend, but Director Davis will want to know, and I must speak with him on other matters. I am told you are heading deeper into the Core?”

“We are. I am the Captain of this cargo ship and have been assigned to carry you until we return, or until we meet another convoy in passing. Most likely we will drop you off in a safe system and you can wait there for another coming back, but there’s no way to know where the fighting is and isn’t at this point.”

“Is the war going poorly?”

“No, but the Hadarak are gathering around our primary transit routes. What you’re on now is one of our backups recently created. We have no comms here, and we have to keep changing them. Our safe systems are only recently cleared, and have very little in the way of support infrastructure.”

“How many jumps until we come to one?”

“18 from here. We might pass another convoy insystem, but most likely it would happen between stars. We’ll get you back to your people eventually though.”

“Thank you, Captain, but I must see your Director first.”

“That’s not something I can do. I can only send you along.”

“Can you tell me of your relationship with the Veloqueen? I have no knowledge of galactic events beyond what the Hadarak overseer knew.”

“They call themselves the ‘Dotra,’ and we’ve been picking up quite a few during the fighting, making predictions of galactic doom trying to scare us into submission now that their Hadarak are losing against the Alliance.”

“Are you referring to Star Force when you say ‘Alliance?’”

“You have been out of the loop for a while. What’s the last thing you remember happening?”

“Star Force was beginning to accept refugees from our home galaxy of Utovi and had just begun pushing in from the Grand Border against the Hadarak.”

The Irondel whistled. “I’ll give you some limited database access so you can catch up, but the Veloqueen found the trailblazers in the Core and wanted to talk to the Uriti. After that meeting was arranged, the beginning of an Alliance was formed, just Star Force and the Veloqueen at first, and they went after some of the big gravity wells at the center of the galaxy. Still fighting there, but we possess about a third of them now and have cut off reinforcements from several big Hadarak galaxies.”

“The gateways,” Plausious clarified.

“Or tethers. People call them both. After the first assault word got around the Core thanks to the Veloqueen, and most of the indigenous Heidoor there signed on to fight the Hadarak, or at least to not fight Star Force. Apparently that was a big deal for some of them, just to allow coexistence. Then the Jedein were added to the Alliance and your people flipped out. They attacked several of our Temples and got the Vargemma to do most of the fighting for them. We haven’t got all of them back yet, and the Neofan are hiding pretty good. You made the Temples hard to get to for a reason, and they’re using it against us, but we’ve got them contained. They can’t get out.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Plausious warned. “Who are the Jedein?”

“Paul-024 met a Warden that talked back, then somehow he was able to get it to transform back into what it had been before somebody messed with their genetics. What came out of the cocoon was damn impressive. Totally biological, but not with the whole rock look of the Hadarak. It got a lot smarter too, and somehow still had its genetic memories from long ago. Why they weren’t wiped I don’t know, but now there’s a few Jedein and whenever we find a Warden that will talk, we capture it and bring it to them…then it gets converted and added to their population. Only works on a few of them, so maybe what you can do will help in some way.”

“Is ‘Jedein’ their original name or something given to them?”

“I don’t know. It’s not a reference that I’m aware of, but the Archons have a lot of tricky names you don’t realize come from something else. All I know is that when they showed up your people went crazy, and not long after we got them contained, the Bond of Resistance started reshuffling with a lot of the races realigning loyalties. The Veloqueen have a lot of weight to throw around, no pun intended. But you’d know that better than I do.”

“I can suspect a great deal from that statement. Was the Neofan attack only House Atriark, or did more Neofan come from other galaxies?”

“I think it was just the local group. No big armies showed up from outside. They did most of their damage with the Vargemma.”

“What’s the status of the Core now?”

“We’re winning, but the Hadarak had such a head start setting up colonies it’s taking forever to root them out, plus they’re still getting reinforcements from the outside. We have to compensate by shipping supplies in too, so we’re in a bit of a logistics competition and on the losing side of that. We’ve got to take more territory and get to mining it before we have a chance of catching up. But the help of the Heidoor has sealed the Hadarak’s fate. A lot of work to be done to finish it, but the eventual winner is no longer in doubt.”

“What of the Denogi?”

“They’re not here.”

“Are they part of the Alliance?”

“No. It’s the triumvirate plus tagalongs. But the tagalongs aren’t doing any fighting. The Veloqueen are working with them on stuff in other galaxies. We are too, but I don’t know what. The Denogi and Neofan have been somewhat upstaged. Is that going to be a problem for you?”

“My loyalty is to the lightside, as first shown to me by the Director.”

“You’ve met him?”

“I have.”

“Well then maybe he will see you. Would you like to compose a message to be sent to him? It’ll get there far before we do, and we can pass it in interstellar space to another convoy if it’s not too much data.”

“I would prefer he knew of my existence as soon as possible.”

“I’ll make arrangements for that. How did you survive all this time? Every system out here is Hadarak controlled. Did you find somewhere to hide?”

“No. I had to fight constantly. I do not know how I did not die,” he said candidly. “I’ve lived millions of years, and what took place there seemed just as long. Three millennia seems far too short.”

“I’m not sure what is customary for a Neofan, but do you wear clothes?”

“I once did. They were destroyed.”

“We can have something made to fit you, and your friend, if you like?”

“Not today. I am finding the changes disconcerting enough.”

“Are you carrying injuries?”

“Not of the physical. But this exile has changed me, and I am realizing I did not know how much.”

“You’re not the first person lost in Hadarak territory to be recovered. Some of the stories they tell are mind boggling. Is there anything you need?”

“Transit…and time to process. Will you make available your records on the Neofan?”

“What I have access to,” the Captain promised. “When you go back, will you be able to end the war?”

Plausious frowned heavily. “When I go back, I’ll be starting a new one…”

17 months later…

Plausious stepped off the dropship, leaving behind the chain of cargo ships he’d been traveling on somewhere past the Grand Border, but still far from the area of the Rim where the Temples resided. However, he was met here by another ship. A command ship that would take him wherever he needed to go.

Or at least that was what had been promised, but now as he walked down the ramp into the hangar bay of the vessel he saw a small Human waiting for him there, suggesting this was more than just transit.

“I am still in awe that you’re alive,” Davis said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“As am I. I owe you a great debt.”

“How so?”

“You taught me the lightside, but I did not truly understand it until I was lost. I relied on your words to guide me, and without them I would not have survived the first day. I fought because fighting was preferable. A Neofan would have accepted his fate and died with more poise than someone scrambling to survive by every ounce of strength he had.”

“Your people do like to avoid the direct fights.”

Plausious hung his head apologetically. “I am deeply sorry for what they have done to you. You did not deserve it.”

“They never said why. They never even spoke to us. Can you tell me what they are attempting to do?”

“They are foreign to me now, but they know the immunity of the Temples well and attempted to reclaim them from you. Their arrogance most likely told them they could succeed and turn all the Vargemma against you. I tried to tell them of the lightside, but they were not interested in hearing it. Then when I was vulnerable, they abandoned me to die. Perhaps I do not understand them as well as I thought.”

“What were you doing in Hadarak territory?” Davis pressed.

“Trying to feel the lightside. And it was working, but the veil was fully lifted when they destroyed my landing craft and left me behind. I felt more alive then than I ever had, and I have no wish to go back into that stagnant trance.”

“You sound different. And you feel different.”

“I am different. I have discovered that what I call the Natural Code and your Lightside are the same, and the Anti-Code is your Darkside. The natural code is what the universe is meant to be, and the anti-code is there to prevent it from being. The prophecy of the Endgame is wrong. The anti-code cannot achieve it. The Neofan cannot achieve it. The Hadarak’s masters and their peers cannot achieve it. Only those who use the natural code can. It is not about the pre-born. It never was. The anti-code resets every failed attempt. And I believe there have been many lightsiders before you that have tried and failed. We inherited some of their technology and genetics, walking in the footsteps of giants that came before us and were reduced to ash, for I bring you a warning, my friend. You are in the process of triggering the Endgame, and in the Endgame all those who are corrupted with the anti-code grow stronger.”

“To focus us rather than destroy each other,” Davis guessed.

“Indeed. They will be drawn to you, to spoil your chance of achieving the Endgame, then they will turn back on each other. The natural order I spoke of earlier is an attempt for those races heavily imbued with the anti-code to avoid their own destructive nature. They delay the inevitable internecine. And your beacon of light will delay it further. They will all come for you.”

“I already knew that. But I do not understand what you mean by an Endgame trigger. What do we have to do to set it in motion?”

“What the code urges you to. The natural code is the instruction manual for the creation of something grand. Something lightside. And when it is built, it will trigger the Endgame. Your empire is that construction. You are nearly there. I do not know what specifically, but as you get closer the darkside will come for you from galaxies far from here. I have seen this. My vision ability shows it to me. The potential for another challenge to Endgame is already here. And it is Star Force. But it is not the end of the universe. I believe it is the end of an age, and with it a paradigm shift of some sort will happen. The universe, or this section of it, will upgrade in some way. It’s possible there have been other lesser Endgames that were passed to give us our current state. I am unsure of this, but I do not believe the Endgame is the end, but a significant transition.”

Davis’s face altered slightly, with his eyes shifting out of focus on the Neofan for a moment.

“You know something of this?” Plausious asked.

“It’s possible that the Endgame births a new race. One on an entirely different level than the natural ones.”

“Why do you think this? Has your vision ability shown it to you?”

“No,” Davis said starkly. “I think I’ve already met one.”

www.aerkijyr.com

Table of Contents

Carnage

- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10

Metamorphosis

- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10

Point Zero

- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10

Maty

- 10
- 9
- 8
- 7
- 6
- 5
- 4
- 3
- 2
- 1

Whitmore Day

- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10

Enlightenment

- Map
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10

Reclaimers

- 1
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10

Blue Blades

- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10

Blood on the Stars

- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10

Reignor

- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10