[IC] Interstellar ~ Ascension

[Darkmatter]

A brilliant flash of light pierced the otherwise empty and dark void of space that surrounded the Aquasphere. This particular area of space was one of incredibly low traffic; mostly due to how fiercely the Ceph defended their home territory. Then again, when one took the average dimensions of a spacefaring vessel, extrapolated how much total space it would occupy in moving from point A to point D, and compared this to the total amount of space within areas A, B, C and D, which it was moving through, then one would realise the actually odds of running into any other ship on its travels were astronomically miniscule.

These were the thoughts running through the mainframe of the Artificial Reasoning Platform which was responsible for the of shattering the monotony of deep space. This ARP was a large, kilometre long spacefaring unit, fully equipped with Graviton Drive, central mounted railgun and flanking G-batteries. By all accounts this ARP was a spaceship by designation, a ZK-017 by classification and ‘Zeek’ to his friends.

Zeek continued contemplating the probability of actually encountering anything else whilst on his travels and was lost deep in one particular rumination when Cayl arose from his unnecessary and long slumber. Cayl, another ARPs but this time of CL-657 classification, reactivated his platform.
“Why do you insist on doing that? It’s just silly,” queried Zeek for what must have been the thousandth time.
“Well why do you insist on being a spaceship?” Retorted Cayl from deep inside Zeek.
Cayl was a mere one hundred and eighty centimetres in comparison to Zeek’s massive size. This was due to Cayl’s main function being diplomacy; most other sentient species fitted a nice average size of just under two metres. In this particular situation however, the Cephs being the goliaths they were, the Oliocht had seen fit to send Zeek simply to ensure a relatable sized entity was representing them.

Now Cayl had thrown out the ‘spaceship’ comment as he knew it would really get Zeek peeved, and for two reasons; it was nonsensical in its answering of the initial question, and Zeek hated being called a spaceship.
“I am not some tin can made by Humans or Graal or any such ilk. I am a purpose designed spacefaring combat ready and hyper intelligent living e….fuck you Cayl. Everytime. My processor just eschews logic when you rattle it with your comments.”
Cayl left out a hearty chuckle, amused as ever by his companion’s angst.
“Lighten up fatty, try a nap sometime.”
Cayl had recently picked up a new hobby; trying out organic bodily functions. Digestion hadn’t worked out too well for anybody involved, exercising had proved meaningless but this new fad of his, temporary suspension of outer cognitive function or ‘sleeping’ was working exceptionally well. Some would say it was doing everyone else a world of good as well as Cayl.

“We’re entering Ceph space in T-30 seconds you little idiot,” informed Zeek, in a unimpressed tone.
“I think maybe you should call me captain, I mean logically it’s corre…”
Cayl spluttered as he felt a rumble from behind him, as Zeek threatened to charge his railgun, the main rail of which Cayl used to navigate the ship from front to back in a timely manner.
“Ok, Ok. Sorry, yikes,” replied Cayl.
It was game face time; “Begin broadcasting,” asked Cayl.
His voice had suddenly taken on a far more formal and correct manner. It was stern yet welcoming, authorative but in a righteous way. His vocal patterns were an amalgamation and cross section of those of every organic diplomatic the Technocracy had record of.

“This is the Artificial Reasoning Platform designation CL-657 speaking. I and my companions, ZK-017 come bearing intentions of peace and goodwill. We represent the Federated States Of the Technocracy. That is to say, the Genoyik Artificial Reasoning Defence System, the Corvexian Trade Alliance and affiliated protectorates, the Vlayisk Timocracy and all holdings thereafter, the Sextanis Systems Syndicate and any registered associates and of course the Oliocht itself, the Yia, the Benevolence of Inchinn.”
Through unbroadcasted communication Cayl remained talking to Zeek while he vocalised to the Ceph. A ‘phew’ was passed when he finished the introduction.

“We have heard and seen much of the great work your species has done for other nations. We know of the majesty of the superstructures you have overseen and built. We know of the might of your great Cephaols and their ferocity when in battle.
We bring good tidings and a request. We seek an audience with the one named ‘Shattered Winter’. We have a proposal for this one, and indeed a proposal for you all.”

[NewSun]

For best reading experience, please listen to the linked song as you go. Trust me.

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C H A P T E R
I
F i r s t b o r n

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The Song of the Cephlon rings eternal.

It has done for countless millennia. The song pervades the heavens, echoes through the cosmos, an everlasting harmony that fills the empty void with something akin to beauty. What is cold and dark becomes solemn and beautiful; what is unknown becomes dear and blessed. The song has guided the younger progeny of the stars to gaze toward the sky, and comforted those in their final throes.
The Cephalrrior had stood for eons: a symbol of life and a reminder that not all must be subject to corruption and despair. When they had first emerged from the Deep, the stars were as empty as the most forlorn depths of Arvioris. It was darker than the formless abyss that gave meaning to the light. It was then that they sought to understand both how the grand mechanism of creation would fit with their understanding of what was, but also to understand the greatest question of them all, for they could not comprehend the infinite disheartenment of it. Why they were alone? They simply did not know.
When the Firstborn Titanopods finally reached a planet beyond their own, it was suffice to say that their intrigue was soon overwhelmed by a deep sense of angst. They had hoped to find a world teeming with the spark of life, but instead found a barren rock. It hung in the shadow of infinity, unassuming, desolate. The sorrowful Cephalrrior had strode across the plains for months on end after that, crying out to those that they knew should have been there. They called to the absence of life in their empty and utterly still universe.
The sky had given them no answer. The world was silent. The universe was bare... Cold. Stark. It was then, for the first time in their history that the Cephalrrior had felt very, very small amongst the stars. Their final frontier was not the crusade of self-discovery that they had always dreamed it would be; it was simply a blind voyage through the darkness - one that had no end nor reason.
They projected their minds as far as they could imagine, into the endless space beyond. They sung what would become known as the Song of the Cephlon, the grand harmony of the Galaxy, but it was borne not through intrinsic wonder and marvel, but of unimaginable loneliness and isolation.
To this day, those that find themselves graced by the Song of those creatures so impossibly ancient and wise, will find themselves not only stricken by it's beautiful harmonies or ethereal melodies; but they also find themselves, too, feeling small and insignificant; all the worries of their brief lives fading into inexplicable foreboding and sadness. Often, the Song has silenced entire worlds so that their inhabitants may gaze skyward, in awe, to search the darkest corners of their souls for something more. They find themselves, without really knowing why, longing for something.

In this way, the Cephalrrior were often seen as creatures of legend and myth when the fledgling nations began their uprisings. They were vast creatures silently drifting high in the skies, watching intently upon the development of every species that would make their existence less desolate and lonely. The Cephalrrior guided as many as they could, setting a few on the path of goodwill and morality; acting as guardians and guides for the fledgling races. After so many years, though, their control faded and faltered into the increasing expanse that they had tried so desperately to cultivate. The young nations warred among themselves, facilitating untold destruction in the Cephalrriors' realm of harmony and peace. They could not be convinced or reasoned with, and within years, all chance at peace was lost.
The Cephalrrior were sent reeling to their depths, completely stricken with anguish and shock that those they had tried so hard to teach the ways of peace to would be capable of such destruction. The Galaxy had fallen into chaos and the Cephalrrior, to their astonishment, felt more lonely in the Galaxy than they ever had when they were truly alone.
The First Cephaol lead the crusade to cleanse the Galaxy of the rash warring factions. The Firstborn Titans took it upon themselves to put down the warmongers and the killers. They tore planets asunder and extinguished the stars to preserve the beauty in the isolation that they sorely missed in hindsight. Atmospheres burned, cities were sunk into the oceans and continents obliterated by the untold fury of the First Cephaol. It was mere years before the Cephalrrior omnicide left the stars once again empty, pure and smouldering in the wake of the Creatures of the Deep.

For the next hundred millennia, the Galaxy belonged to the Deep. The Cephaols all searched for meaning; warring among themselves from time to time, yet content that everything from the most central star to the most distant Galactic horizon was theirs to safeguard. The grand scale of creation was preserved under their vigil, and theirs alone. The younger nations which lacked any foresight into their own actions did not endanger the cosmos any longer.
The only threat to the peace was the immense Firstborn. After so many years of experience and searching, they seemed to collapse under the weight of their own wisdom and understanding once civilisations once again began to spring forth in the Galaxy. The chaotic nature of the universe would show through their once amiable personalities; they would show fragmented signs of madness, followed by their dissolution into what some would refer to as ‘Evil’. One by one they fell into the shadow of the universe, driven insane by the grasping tendrils of time. One by one they broke away from their Cephaols to roam the Galaxy in solitude, screaming their perverse versions of the Song across the stars; they crushed fledgling worlds as they rose up, they tore the Cephaols apart when they encountered them. The Firstborn had become beyond notorious in the age of the Cephalrrior; they were shunned by their kin from those days, forever on.

Only one was said to have evaded the impending madness. The last of the lucid Firstborn goes by a name impossible to understand, it’s unimaginable complexity could drive a Cephalion mad. This Firstborn has been called a great deal many other things: ‘God’ was popular among lesser civilisations, ‘The Infinity Serpent’ was one particularly notable example of assigned nomenclature by an unremarkable race, living short lives on an unremarkable world. This Firstborn would encounter a race in the far future that called themselves Humans, and they would give it a name that it found more fitting than the rest:

‘Ephemeral Light’

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3 4 9 9
A l a r o c h
-Home to the Souran of the Singing Sands-

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On the first day, the sky was a Cerulean shade of blue. That didn’t happen very often; not in this planetary system. This desolate ring of worlds was known for vast, expansive clouds that would shield the Souran from even the majesty of the nighttime sky. They would almost never see the stars. Instead, they were blanketed by a dense, turbulent and ferociously hungered sheet of ravaging grey.
The Souranah cast his gaze to the strange crystal heavens, his face contorted into a fleshy veil of pandemonium. What was that object drifting high above the mountains and trees? Its shape was not easily defined as its form scattered the thin light from above into a diffuse shadow cast below. Was it this foreign object that bathed Alaroch in the mysterious song from above? He was willing to chance that it was the source.
He had just met with his advisors in regard to this most unusual occurrence. Never had the Souran encountered anything of this like before; it scared them, but also gave them some semblance of hope. The space program was due to begin within days, primarily in the search of alien life to ultimately conquer. The Souran people had voted that their home planet was no longer sufficient to sustain them, and more land would be needed to support their growing economy and production. There was no more space for them to industrialise, nor any to dedicate to corporate greed. The last thirty years had been dedicated to their project of reaching the stars; but ever since then, every Souran had been subject to the same, bizarre experience: a cosmic harmony emanating through the minds of all. Most would be unable to accurately describe the melody, nor the feelings it conveyed when heard.
The Souranah settled for “Madness given sound”.

…

On the second day of the clear skies, Alaroch was host to a grand parlay between the High Commissions of the planet, with votes being held en masse. Every woman and child cast their thoughts forward to discern a plan of action. Most saw this foreign object as a threat, some saw it as a sign, but all agreed that inaction was the course that most resembled folly. When their domination of the stars was so close, could they truly afford to let their ultimate supremacy slip from their grasp?

…

On the fifth day, the Souran central government approved the development and construction of surface-to-space missiles to clear the airspace in preparation for their conquest of the cosmos. The decision was unanimous and uncontested. An order of thirty high-explosive charges with nuclear elements was placed to engineering corporations around the world, which clocked into overtime to produce the weapons that would clear the skies for the Souran. After all, nothing could stand up to their might, for they were the true masters of the stars.
Men applauded as the might of their nation was demonstrated with the decision to destroy with reckless abandon.

…

On the thirtieth day, Souran crowds gathered spiralled streets to witness the demonstration of their might: to see the missiles fired, and their legacy to continue uncontested. No attempt at communication with the object above was made.
The skies rumbled and the ground shook like the growl of a predator as explosive warheads flared from the horizon, setting it ablaze for a moment before they rocketed to the sky. Their target was clear: the single diffused object in the sky — the object that the Souran were so convinced was there to thwart them.
It did not take long for the missiles to breach the upper atmosphere, and even less time for them to find their mark. Flashes of fiery red and brilliant white illuminated the atmosphere for a second. The Souran onlookers were so sure that they would see the object shatter and fall to the ground, broken, burning and utterly ruined.
But this was not the case. The song only intensified, the object only grew more defined; it approached with frightening intent. The Sourans had stopped their cheering for their vain ideologies when the shape became discernible. What they considered a small craft of weakened aliens scouting them from afar turned out to be an immense beast of metal and plate. It spanned into the horizon, its powerful appendages sprawling further than the seas. It were a certain kind of beautiful, yet a certain kind of frightening. Any Souran would have told you so, had they not been obscured by the shadows of such an awesome creature.
None would recall any words being said in those few, fleeting moments, but the same thoughts seemed to occur in the heads of every Souran on Alaroch at that moment:

“The Universe is mine to conquer”

…

On the thirty-first day, the Souran of the Singing Sands were no more. They were wiped from all history, and their industrious world had been reduced to naught but smoke and ashes, and the Song of the Cephlon still rang eternal.

---

Ephemeral Light had found Alaroch only four days after it had been decimated by some unknown force. The disturbance in the quantum world was massive; it felt like a shockwave being forced across the entire Galaxy. The Firstborn was quick to arrive at the site of such a shocking manifestation of evil.
The rest of the Radiance Cephaol materialised some kilometres behind, each doing so with a distinctive blast of light that quickly faded back into the void. As each appeared at the scene, they marvelled with great distress at the scene the Firstborn had lead them to: a once prosperous world was charred black, it’s oceans replaced with bubbling expanses of magma. Volcanoes had erupted from the crust, claiming every city on the surface and dragging them to their fiery dooms. A hole, several hundred metres wide, scarred the surface; it seemed to reach down into the depths of the planet, far below the crust. An entire species had been eradicated overnight with not a single act of provocation on the galactic scale. They were young and ignorant, but they were not evil.

“The Firstborn still live,” Ephemeral Light said to it’s Cephaol. It emitted the thought slowly, befitting the gloom before them.

The Cephaol agreed, but did not add to the analysis.

The surface fared no better than the image from above. Canyons had been carved in the place of forests, and scattered craters littered the plains. Little remained of what were once cities. The unshakeable feeling of déjà vu overcame Ephemeral Light, a stark reminder of the days when the universe was empty. It was not dissimilar to the first, lifeless, barren planet that the Firstborn had walked across nearly a million years before. But this place used to harbour life, a crucible for men and women and children that all had dreams and aspirations and hopes. Yet it had been extinguished in the blink of an eye.
Ephemeral Light strode across the land, stepping over the mountains and canyons, stopping itself at the strange hole that stretched deep into the bowels of the world. It was the unmistakable work of a Titan Avinesar.
There was a Firstborn Titan prowling the cosmos, one that feared the whims of no nation, one that wished to see the Galaxy as it once was: Empty and still.

Ephemeral Light could not let it live.

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A R V I O R I S
T h e A q u a s p h e r e

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The current was strong, brining with it a torrent of fresh, cold water that would crash against the gargantuan rocky structures that littered the darkness of the upper trenches. The oceans of Arvioris were far deeper than any other known in the Galaxy, stretching over seventy kilometres into the looming abyss, where no light could penetrate. These depths were frighteningly empty, void of all life save for the mysterious, bioluminescent fish that prowled. Only glimpses of such beings could be caught by even the most attuned of eyes. Only occasionally would one feel the presence of something greater, where one could swear to see something immense and powerful moving in the shadow. The home of the Cephalrrior was a mysterious and enigmatic place indeed, for above the water was an eternal raging storm that threw the surface into turbulent, crashing waves. Great shoals of Firefish darted between bolts of Aonite Sharks only slightly below, in the bright waters of the shallows; yet somewhere in this vast ocean lived creatures more immense and powerful than one could ever hope to understand: The Cephalrrior themselves.
They would often roam the ocean seeking their understanding; they would conduct experiments of the most peculiar kinds. They would fight and play, relax and live; the young would experience and the old would settle down to fade away in peace.

There was one, somewhere in these oceans that was not like the others. A Titanopod of immense natural wisdom and strength of will, crippled in it’s youth, unable to leave it’s watery world, nor barely move within. Shattered Winter, some call it. The broken Titan who was incapable of building a Cephlonar. Cephalrrior would often come to Shattered Winter to seek wisdom and counsel, aid and guidance, for it had had time to contemplate, more so than the others. Yet this one was stricken with a deep feeling of regret and loss. It felt useless and unworthy of being one of the fabled Titanopods.

So when a mysterious technocracy vessel appeared above Arvioris, asking for it, and it alone, it jumped at the consideration of the possibilities. For the first time in decades, Shattered Winter projected it’s voice skyward, directly at the vessels requesting it’s presence.

“This is I. What do you wish with a broken Cephalrrior, young ones?”

[Kyelin]

"Young one, there is no sense in placing the blame on them. Their fault is not with their drives, or need for power. They simply do not understand, as we did not understand. And now, the duty falls with those, like yourself, who shall remain. We have not just failed ourselves, but the galaxy as well. It is us, who are weak. Surely, with time, they will understand what needs to be done. And, perhaps, it is best that we are forgotten."

The Being dreamt, for perhaps the millionth time, of what it had lost. Of the grandeur and wonder, forever shattered by those they had sought to destroy. In fear, they had lashed out, for the first time, against what they could consider an equal. And a painful reality had been revealed: They were not equal. Their enemies were superior, masters of The Harmony, and had not even accepted it into their being, for it was merely a tool to be used and exploited by them. The very Lords themselves, The Seeders, had chosen another, long before the first of their kind took to the stars. And for that, those who came before perished, wasted to nothing, and cast off into oblivion.

For millennia now, a great deal had taken place. Many civilizations had risen and fallen again, crumbling to dust long before they could understand the very forces of reality that shaped their existence, a slave to perception and thought and time. A lucky few made it to the stars, and set about repeating the practices of their forefathers on others foreign to them, lashing out in fear at what they did not understand. Even rarer, some understood the benefits of becoming allies, and worked hard to suppress their desires to betray the new friends they had made, for it seemed almost certain they were soon to do the same. The galaxy was vibrant, and alive, and showed great promise. It had almost seemed that The Harmony was more than a teaching, a force intangible to all, even those who had breathed it's very essence.

This peace, however was soon to be shattered. Vanguards, unfeeling and unsympathetic, forged of metal sheets and memory. existed simply to watch. To wait, for the time of return. Perhaps, it had been believed, there would be no need to be awakened. Even the hated Enemy had moved on to other pursuits (or rather, a lack thereof), while the Guardians of the Last Day's Archives continued to live as they had before The Schism, and perhaps the Young Races would achieve a mutual understanding of comraderie and acceptance. But, like all great conflicts, there was not one, but many catalysts, and it all seemed to coincide at once: A series of alien nations, on the brink of terrible war. A great voice, familiar and awe inspiring, speaking again, for perhaps the first time since those days. And something else... A vile presence that tainted everything it touched, and driven to wreak havoc on all galactic existence.

Without a second to lose, a signal was sent, to the only entity who could understand it's meaning, in the hope that it still lived to hear the message. Mechanisms and machines, eons abandoned and derelict, hummed to life, pulsing with unknown energy little understood by nearly all, and began preparations. Not for peace, but for war. Few as those who remained were, they would uphold Their cause, no matter the opposition. If not for themselves, then for those who were most in danger. The preservation of life, the one meaning to their existence, did not include themselves. It was time to make right what had been done long ago.

All that was needed was the hand of a single creature, no matter the race or belief. A single act, and the Teu would return.

[darkwolf687]

Rise of a hive on a primitive world, aftermath...

The "meteorite" had crashed into the world, creating a crater some 18 meters in diameter. The meteorologists of the planet had raised to investigate this new crash has uncovered what was being hailed as the greatest find of their century. The discovery of organic tissue in a meteor. It was overgrown with this strange, organic substance that the worlds biologists though tk be some strange form of alien plant or fungus, given the large spore like sacks growing in it. They had set up a bio containment site around the meteorite, and were studying this life form intently, suspecting it to be proof of the possibility of alien life.

The truth was, of course, much more insidious. Seven Parasitic spore forms had escaped the crash, and while their brethren were maturing inside the surrounded meteor, these parasites had set to work in the nearby forest. The mass of creatures and plants gave them no shortage of biomass, though of course animals were more useful.
The bodies were dumped together and slowly turned by the little creatures into biomass, as they secreted their unique bacteria onto it. These broken down bodies turned into a thick 'skin', and from it small sacks began to form, feeding off the biomass to create more spore forms with which to infest the world, the time it took them to mature being abnormally short

The young boy, Fenrir, had snuck out with his friends to see this supposed bio containment site, which had over the past two weeks it had been there become the towns myth and legend. Some said they saw alien like figures go inside or come out, and though the meteor was actually a crashed space ship, others said it was actually a site for conducting illegal experiments on the towns residents, others though it was some form of conspiracy to cover up the truth. Naturally, this piqued curiosity in the youth, who often dared each other to go near it at night or sat up on "Alien watches", hoping to catch a glimpse of the apparent aliens. Apart from the military bio hazard vehicles which transported samples away, nothing ever really happened.

The three boy's, Fenrir, Ezik and Arrage had been out to it at night before, but Ezic was insisted that they had missed something. Ezic was by far the smallest and weakest of the three, and always seemed to want to prove his worth. There was no challenge that Ezic would not accept and try. After two days, they finally gave in to his constant pestering and went out to prove to him once and for all that there was nothing. They arrived on the edge of the crater to overlook the facility and, as it did every night, it looked creepy and foreboding. Fenrir shuddered at the thought of being caught by the military... Or worse one of the aliens.
"See? Nothing" Arrage whispered, turning to face Ezic. Ezics yellow, lizard like eyes blinked twice and his whispered back
"We should go closer" No sooner had he said that then he slid down the hill and towards the strange, dome like construct. Fenrir was quick to follow, despite Arrages protests.
"Come on!" Ezic hissed up at Arrage, who remained knelt on the ridge above, shaking his head
"You're mentally challenged, they'll be guarding the roads out." He said
"They weren't when we passed them" Ezic countered as Arrage stood up and turned away, disappearing into the black. Ezic shrugged and muttered something, which Fenrir didn't hear properly. He was about to ask when the two were cut off by the sound of a muffled yell and a gunshot from within the biocontainment.

Almost instantly, Ezics couraged dissipated. The two could not retreat back up the hill, they would have to proceed forwards and pass one of the two doors that were on either side of the biodome to reach one of the paths leading out of the crater. The two remained rooted to the spot as they listened to the sound of yelling and gunshots from within the biodome... Then silence, and what sounded like someone talking and a dull laughter. Ezic smiled, then chuckled slightly
"We've been taken for fools, Fenrir, we must be near the guards quarters, they might have a picture box!" He said, turned and walking towards the door, passing it slowly. Fenrir wasn't so certain, it had all sounded much, much more real than a PB. He whispered slowly
"It sounded real, Arrage..."
"They probably have a better model than us, besides..."
"My family owns the best, Arrage, it wasn't a PB..."
"Maybe its something government issue then, just... Come on before we're seen" Ezic said with false confidence, and Fenrir edged forwards towards the door. He had images in his mind of a massive alien storming out of the door and grabbing him, tearing his tongue out and eating his arms and... He pushed the images to the back of his mind, but as he got closer to the door they only got more and more intense. Ezic seemed the be nervous too, keeping his eyes on the door as he crept past, and was careful to stay as far away as possible in the tight crater. Fenrir approached it and took his eyes off it, closing them tightly as he crept past, determined not to look at it. His fear git the better of him, and his left eye opened to take a peek. Fenrir found himself staring at the white door... And nothing more. He opened his other eye and took another step and cleared the door, before realising he had been holding his breath and exhaled. His fear subsided slightly, and he almost laughed at how absurd it was. They had found some form of alien plant after all, hadn't they? If there was another form of alien life, surely they would have announced that too.
Whatever the case, both he and Ezic began to jog, not wanting to delay long enough for the road to become guarded again. Ezic beat him too it and came to a stop at the top of the crater. Fenrir looks at him curiously and as he came over the top of the crater his heart sank as he saw a humanoid shape. The gaurds must have been back. They slowly began to approach, knowing that they would be caught either way now.
As they approached, however, they realised that the shape wasn't wearing armour... In fact, it wasn't even armed... That figure also looked surprisingly Arrage shaped. Fenrirs heart kept and he broke into a run, dashing up to Arrage from behind and calling out for him. Arrage didn't turn, even when the two knew he could hear them. They approached him and Ezic reached out and tapped him on the shoulder...

No sooner had he done that, Arrage spun around and seized Ezic by the throat, lifting him off the ground. Ezic cried out in shock and Arrage seemed to be examining him for a moment, sizing him up. Suddenly, Arrage spun around, releasing his grip and sending Ezic flying, the screaming teenager soaring through the air and over the edge of the crater. Ezics screams came to a sudden stop and a sickening crunch resounded up from the crater. Fenrir slowly backed away and the light cast on Arrage as he approached Fenrir.
Arrage was not Arrage. His face looked pale and lifeless, his eyes darted around like a hungry predators rather than a sentient being, his claws had grown larger and his clothing had a small, bloody hole torn in it. The face if the not-Arrage seem to be mocking him, and Fenrir felt himself back into something. He stopped and whimpered. Fear over came him, sweat dropped from his clothing. He did not want to turn to see what was behind him, but he knew that he had to. Slowly he turned around, and behind him was the most disgusting sight he had seen in his life.
The creature wore body armour, though a small hole was torn it in. Bolbous sacks hung from its flesh, and something appeared to be moving inside of them. Its eyes started at him blankly, and its arms had mutated, the left one having changed into a large tentacle like appendage. In its right arm it still clutched its rifle, its finger on the trigger. He felt the tentacle wrap around his throat, and he clutched at it, tearing at it with his claws to try and pry himself loose, but the thick skin protected it and it merely tightened. Slowly, one of the disgusting sacks on the creatures right arm began to split open, and a strange blob like creature with small, tentacle like legs began to emerge from it, covered it a sticky fluid and struggling its way out. Watching the repulsive blob fight its way out of its strange birthplace, Fenrir began to feel physically sick and began to struggle again, tossing himself from side to side, but the tentacle kept its horrid grip, keeping him trapped under its grip. It was only a moment later that he realised, in absolute horror and disgust, why it hadn't killed him. It wanted to turn him into one of those things, it wanted him intact.
The blob leapt onto his chest, and he felt a sharp and sudden pain as small, razor like teeth began to tear at his flesh. He tried to cry out in horror but the tentacle that was wound around his neck tightened and cut off his screams.

The beginings of a hive had been created, and now that it had gained sufficient biomass to create enough spore forms, it would spread out from the area and infest the world... The L'Er had spread to another world, and in time would take the entire world. The Tribunal of the Hives turned its attention to the newly forming hive, waiting eagerly for the formation of a Mind...

[Meth Quokka]

It was once written that the vast expanse of space was daunting, that a complete and overwhelming sense of nothingness can overwhelm even the strongest mind. These were the words of Amurek Tulin, a legendary Varnian astronaut and early space pioneer, philosophical and introspective in their day but now almost a phrase of comedy. Such was the dynamic nature of change, where the stars had once been worshipped as gods and beings of unimaginable power, they now only represented opportunities to exploit.

The Varn had managed to perfect the art of exploitation, forging a corporate behemoth out of the once scattered and disparate tribes they’d once been. It was an entity of unrivalled wealth and wonder, at least to any of their records, but unrivalled oppression too. The lower class to the Varn, anyone not Varnian by their standards, were brutally mistreated and abused no matter where they stood in the corporate ladder. Looking up the ladder, many saw the Varns as distant, mysterious even; many even considered them extinct and the pretence of their existence was only upheld to keep order in the corporation. Yet the one overwhelming argument for their current existence was the constant, unyielding and intimidating presence of Varn Star IV and its continuous expansion. It was rumoured to be a utopia-like space station that supported the life of the Elder race in the epitome of comfort and luxury. Its presence, beyond its immense size, was the notable lack of space traffic, in this congested star system, due to the enforced no-fly radius around the star station.

Elsewhere in the system, an enormous flux of cargo, mining, trade and manufacturing ships travelled through the system from warehouse, to factory, to starport or even designated jump zones. A multitude of drones and small patrol ships zipped around the columns, monitoring and scanning; keeping the columns safe and under control. Where the threat of small patrol ships didn’t enforce adequate threat, there was the other intimidating presence of the solar system.

The Unbroken.
A monolithic ship that was as imposing for an entirely different reason to Varn Star IV; it was capable of annihilating any and every ship in the solar system, even the warships that guarded it. It was a mainly silent threat, given that it would never come to that, at least so hoped every denizen and visitor to the system could wish for.

Overlooking but dwarfed by Varn Star IV and the unbroken was the Orbital Headquarters of the Varn Corporation senior management. It was the major decision making hub of the corporation, mostly autonomous with its primary focus being the continued profits of the corporation. It was a vast, circular room that had a 360 degree view of the stellar activity around it. The room was dominated by a massively long, glasslike table which stretched almost the length of the room with nearly a century of chairs lining either side. It was currently inhabited by twenty or so people, the highest level of the managerial chain below that of the Varn themselves. Despite the enormity of the room, the multiple offerings of places to be, they were huddled in a group near the head of the table debating each other in a somewhat fervered manner.

“But how do we explain the most recent failure? We don’t even know if it was a failure of manufacturing or procurement?” one accusing voice murmured.

“IT WAS NOT MANUFACTURING” an anger laden voice fired back, belonging to a neatly dressed Grom wielding his rage against the Slugarth facing off against him.

“Calm yourselves gentlemen” a clipped, precise voice chimed in, bearing the authority of Deputy CEO along with the unspoken threat of easily-abused power. “Now none of the reports we’ve got back have been conclusive, for all we know it could be a terrorist attack and not even a fault of any of our departments.”

“You mean you want to try and pin this on me?” retorted another Grom standing in the circle, his neatly pressed uniform conveying the military discipline along with the dark material conveying his role as Intelligence. “We’ve had no reports of any potential threats and this is over our extensive information gathering network, don’t think I’m going to take the fall for this.” The rest of the circle backed away a little at the last words of the Grom; Alter Jirum wasn’t known as “The Butcher” for his selection of fine meats. He was known for his tendency to commit mass murder and a brutal taste for blood when he felt the desire, or in other words whenever it could be useful.

“Plus there was no sign of any foreign ship signals from anywhere near that area, any terrorists would’ve had to have stolen a properly designated ship for that mission, none of which were reported stolen. It increasingly sounds like a fault of something inside the factory but all I know is we’re missing one of our largest munitions factories which is putting a sizeable dent in everyone’s budget.” The assembled group nodded sagely at the speaker’s words; he was a highly respected war hero who just happened to be the highest ranking military officer in the Varn Corporation, Supreme Marshal Tunmer Glokel. He was seemingly infinitely old, by a far distance the oldest person in the room and his words carried with them the weight of wisdom and legitimacy.

“Okay” a distinct, raspy voice piped up from the form retreated into his quite imposing chair placed at the head of the table. At an instant all of the chatter ceased and the twenty-odd managers turned to face the newest person to speak up. CEO Drium Gunnen was the one supposedly in charge of all that lay before him but his tenure had been a bit of a sinking ship; falling profit margins and failed ventures had killed any chances of him retaining the job. “There is a relay set up with the board, or at least whatever robot they have programmed to do so. They won’t know the cause of the explosion so we have to stay unified on this. Our official line is this, there’s been an explosion at the Systemac plant but the initial engineering reports have been inconclusive. There’s been no warning signs of failing plant integrity so it must’ve been an accident. Is that clear?” The assembled group nodded and acknowledged the policy; it was important for them all to appear unified before the board; even Glokel and Alter Jirum were showing the signs of fear when the windows switched to display the harsh, angular lines of the remotely humanoid robotic face.

“Prepare to receive landing shuttle, designation VS-402, take no hostile action or face termination” the mechanical voice boomed over the speakers in the room, causing the senior managers to look around at each other. A landing shuttle? This was highly irregular, was it some new piece of information that the search crews had found? Or surely it wasn’t the unthinkable happening, that one of the Board was coming down here.

“VS – that is the Varn Star designation” murmured Glokel, noticing the few worried looks that were shot towards him and the CEO. If one of the Varn was choosing now to break their millennia-long absence from public appearance then it couldn’t be a positive thing for the men assembled here. It was more than likely the case that none of them were leaving the room alive if a Varnian stepped off that shuttle.

Time seemed to take an eternity to shift for the assembled managers, every moment was tense, every second excruciating until they heard the unmistakable sound of a pneumatic hiss, the entrance door from the landing pad was opening. It revealed two highly advanced battle droids, the prototypes that Glokel had spent years trying to get deployed into the conventional forces but had mysteriously been shelved at the stage of deployment. The eight foot tall bipedal robots, with graceful movements befitting their slender frame stepped into the room, raising their weapons before intoning “Keep your hands in clear view, take a seat at your respective chair and await further instruction.”

Any thought of resisting such a command was dispelled by the laser rifles pointed at the group that were more than capable of mowing the group down before they could take any action against it. It was yet more technology that Glokel hadn’t been able to deploy into field use which surely would’ve raised their ground forces to another level. It was swiftly becoming clear that the Varnians didn’t take their safety lightly and were more than aware of the possibilities of seeing their armed forces used against them. As they were taking their seats, a further stream of robots stepped into the room taking the total number to twenty with the majority taking positions around every entrance, conversely every exit, from the room. Glokel bunched his hands into a white-knuckled fist as he gritted his teeth to prepare himself for his end. He was determined to go out as proudly and dignified as he could, with a quick glance across to Alter Jirum revealing the agent had recognised the signs and was preparing himself for his death too.

A few of the managers looked around the room, beginning to notice the extra robots in the room with one deciding to somewhat pitifully begin blubbering. A quick glance revealed that it was Mirium, the manager of manufacturing who’d been more of a prissy academic than a hands-on manager so it was little surprise that he was the one that cracked. He glanced back up at the door to notice that there was another being standing in the room, a slender dark grey figure dressed in a pristine white robe with the hood pulled over his head and standing quite menacingly behind the chair of Drium Gunnen. No-one had noticed the being entrance, not even Alter who’d been trained to always be aware. Drium became aware of a presence behind his back and turned slowly to investigate just as a knife entered his throat causing a spurt of black blood to burst out, narrowly avoiding the sleeve of the being that could only be a Varnian. The Varnian twisted the knife in the CEO’s throat and grabbed the Grom’s face his other hand and twisted his face around until it was almost enveloped by the white hood.

There was a barely audible “consider yourself fired” before the dying CEO was thrown from the seat in a smooth, effortless movement. The body crunched against the floor, eventually coming to a rest as it slammed into one of the robotic guardians which didn’t even register the body lying against its feet. Everyone in the room was still in a state of shock when a few of the robots stepped towards the table pronouncing the dismissal of the managers of manufacturing, engineering, procurement, law enforcement, accounting and mining. Their severance package was a shot through the head as the bodies were tossed to join that of their CEO in a crumpled pile.

The Varnian calmly sat down in the now-vacated CEO’s chair, somehow bereft of blood despite it’s former occupant’s grisly death before dropping the hood back and simply stated in the coldest manner Glokel had ever seen “Congratulations on retaining your job through this period of organisational restructuring.”

[Monkeypants]

The Covenant

---

'Federationers', 'Karkosians'.. All these things had halted the Hau' rampage through the east. The 'west' was still open and being pioneered as well as the 'south' towards the core but none of those areas would amount to much in face of the so called, 'powder keg'. Various conflicts had pushed the Hau into a more defensive, cautious stance regarding these races. Many border stations would send their pings off to the void, towards the two other nations. Nothing very noteworthy would ever be recorded, nothing new or dangerous.

A lone monitoring station seemed to just drift in the dark. Aboard it was many holographic displays and what would be chairs, arranged to give one person a maximum view with little need to turn ones head very far. A single Hau sat in the chair, staring at the screens. "Do you know what is out there?" she said to her self. The station had just picked up its ping which turned up nothing but a few comets and lone planetoids flying through deep space. "Why does this job have to.. suck.. so bad." Another Hau entered the room. "Ok, we are now on alert.. again.. Command believes they have received a transmission from these Federationers.. or what ever they call themselves." The first Hau just sighs, "We receive one every month. why do we care now?"

"Because command told us to care. bring up display fourteen, switch it over to detect radio waves." The first Hau presses a few holographic keys. "Ah, there it is. same signal as before." The wave was intercepted about four hours later. It depicted the location and description of what would be a 'summit' The second Hau turns around and brings up another display and within a few seconds, a Luchten appears on the display. "Did you intercept the transmission?" The Hau gave a simple nod. "This one is different, perhaps the diplomats should be notified this time?" The Luchten looked down a bit and then nodded to the Hau, "Agreed. I'll send it through. I also see that your rotation ends in a week? I'll go ahead and dispatch your replacements."

It wouldn't take very long for the diplomats to receive the message. They would have to validate it first though, then get permission from the Matriarch herself to investigate any further. It was well known though that the Matriarch, Aurel, was very trusting of the Diplomats and would likely agree to any investigation. That is the Hau way, investigate, Integrate, adapt, then move on.

---

The Karkosians

---

The world that the Karkosian/Hau conflict is well known in the Covenant as the planet unity, even if on the star charts its called Ifferen. The world was very unique as it had two massive empires on it and somehow didn't have /all/ thier guns pointed at one another. Hau and Karkosians frequented each others settlements without any real trouble. There were laws regarding weapons, at least on the Hau's part but it was very lax. Today though, a new Hau effort would take place, something to hopefully solidify a sort of peace treaty proper, rather than the current non aggression pact.

A six wheeled APC, armed with a simple enclosed turret with a slender single barrel protruding from the center, arrived outside the Karkosians main colony. It was a rare sight as it was the first time an armored vehicle had deployed towards the Karkosian colony. A large drop down door opened and from it, a Hau emerged wearing a solid light blue outfit. There wasn't much to it aside from it being a loose fit and having a belt with a few pouches on it. . She turned to the Karkosian colony and began walking towards it. After she had stepped off the platform, two Luchten and one Hau followed her out and their attire wasn't much different with exception of the small pistols attached to their belts. It was a diplomatic envoy, standard for the Hau at least. They were lightly armed at this point as they were relying on Karkosian honor to protect them. The Female arrived at the edge of the Colony then stopped, along with her entourage. She crossed her arms and waited patiently on a Karkosian response.

---

The Leviathan

---

A small camp on a frozen world sat alone in the system. Rarely visited and only patrolled by distance warships. It wasn't very lonely though as the station had a large crew for its size, all scientists or Guards and all content with their setting. Below the visible buildings was a labyrinth of caves dug through the snow an ice. As the Hau dug a tunnel, long cords with sporadic lights were ran across the roof of the caves, spanning the length of them entirely. These weren't ran from a generator but rather a luminous gas that would glow in the dark.

The scientists had dug very deep in certain areas and at one point, had broken through to the actual surface of the world. It was obvious that there was no real body of liquid water but at some point it had. The prize find though, was proof that -something- had been there long ago.. in the form of a massive worm like creature. Its skeleton was laid out in fragments but from what they had recovered so far, this would have been huge, likely around the 70 meter mark. After this discovery, the Hau pioneers had been informed as well as what would be aptly referred to as the 'first contact command'. They had sent out feelers to many worlds with bodies of water in the attempt to find any of these creatures.. the only reason they did this is that the creature in no way, was indigenous to this frozen wasteland.

As time went on though, no signs of these creatures had been found and the general theory was,it was unique but some thought there might be more out there. Survey probes had been launched years back in the hopes to find more life in the galaxy, and like Hau tradition, Introduce it to what the Hau knew to be a better life, under the Covenant banner.

---

The Revelation

---

It was a day that would change the Hau Covenant forever, and it all began with a simple Hau Cruiser, flying swiftly among the stars. It wasn't a war situation or a tactical advance, or even a patrol for that matter but rather a lone Cruiser scouting a new star system. As it blazed past by the bodies of this star, perhaps even world after world at the speed it was moving, brought it by chance, something unique among the stars.

The bridge of the ship, buried within the ship itself had no windows, instead holographic displays around a circular lay out. what appeared to be raised consoles with chairs were on the walls, all facing the center of the ship where the leader of the ship stood vigil. It may be a small ship but nonetheless, it was a front line Hau warship. The captain, knowing this, was always on alert. They had a rough job to most with the little sleep and all but it wasn't supposed to stop them and this had paid off many times. But this wasn't the same. A crewman was staring almost blankly into a display, trying to figure out how long it would take to grow her nails out. Ahead though, on the display, formed a red triangle. "what's this?" she said under her breath. She leaned closer to the screen then turned her head, while still staring from the corner of her eyes. There was urgency in her voice at this point, "Captain, you need to see this!" The captain, without a thought, rises from her chair and moves to the console. "Oh.... Oh my. Bring it aboard."

The ship slowly moved to the object and engaged a sort of gravity beam to it. A tactical station officer spoke up, "Alright, it's locked, lets reel it in." the captain could only smile at their easy catch, "Once we get this loaded, set course for Sedna, full speed." The navigation officer, a rather large Luchten, gave a simple nod as he entered the coordinates in to his console. Maybe an half hour passed before the job was done. The ship turned towards where Sedna will be and engaged its FTL drive. There was what seemed to be a bolt of lightning that wrapped around the ship for a second and then the ship itself seemed to stretch towards its location, before the end caught up to the front and disappeared in a flash. All of this within a matter of seconds. It was gone with no trace... By the time the Cruiser left Sedna gate and the next, and the next, a flotilla of seventy ships had formed around the Cruiser. Its contents were broadcast as urgent, to the Capitol itself... The nation didn't spare any assets with a object with a priority one package. Even massive Hau dreadnoughts had joined the defense of this single Cruiser. It was worth it though as these content were.... priceless.

It was a day before it would be presented to Matriarch Aurel, a day of cleaning and examining but it was finally ready. Luchten shock troops lined the pathways to the Covenants Capitol building itself. Gunships flew over head and the massive 'home fleet' had nearly blot out the sun. Aurel walked out of the doors of what would almost be taken as a palace. She wore a long, light orange colored tunic like shirt and slim pants sharing that color. She wore a light blue and white colored tall boots and blue arm bracers. Her outfit was further adorned with A light blue stole which had the Covenants national symbol clearly engraved at each end. This was all brought together by sharp angled Light blue pauldrons and a light blue chest piece made of a strange metal that, even though a light weight 'heavy' metal. It had various symbols carved in and on the chest, a red diamond with what looked like bird wings protruding from both sides.

This wasn't even a flashy outfit for the Hau but rather the most dumbed down variant of the Matriarchs 'armor'. She slowly walked down a long stretch of steps to a courtyard which was lined with a bright white colored stone steps. She was flanked by two Luchten honor guard with the other honor guards from all races standing watch around the yard itself. As she moved closer a number of Hau and Higg personnel stood at the object which sat dead center of the yard. Aurel stopped to get a good look at it, standing maybe twenty feet from it. She extended her arm fully and pointed, "What... is this?"

A Higg approached the Matriarch. It had long yellow stripes down its abdomen and its arms were of a bright red. It moved like a person would expect a spider like race to move. As it moved closer, Aurel lowered her arm. The Higg spoke, "Aurel, this is... a probe of some sorts. We are still trying to figure out how it came to be in Hau space. The current theory is that it had slipped into some sort of wormhole. But nonetheless, it is a marvel.. I've never seen anything like this before." The Higg motioned her towards the probe and the two walked closer. As she reached it, she put her hand on its surface. As she ran her hand over it, she could feel the many dents on the cold metal, this probe was very old.

The Higg motioned for one of the other Hau, "Aurel, This.." She turned to look at the Hau, who was holding a golden disk of some sort. "This mentions.. a far off race of beings. Having at least achieved space flight. The probes power system has long expended so its safe to say the race that sent this has had time to advance." The Higg motioned to the Hau again. "This is where it gets.. weird?" and with that, the Hau placed the disk in a specific place on the Probe. Various sounds could be heard in the courtyard, a odd chirping, crying, and other sounds but what the Higg found and was most proud of, was a voice that echoed through the courtyard.

It blared loud and proud.

Go.. Go.. Go Johnny Go! Go.. Go.. Go Johnny Go! Johnny B Goode.

Go.. Go.. Go Johnny Go! Go.. Go.. Go johnny Go! Johnny B Goode.

The Higg stood back as the music played and then he personally stopped what was now obviously a record. "This, Aurel is called, The sounds of Earth." Aurel looked at the Higg and said very softly, "What is an Earth?"

Aurel turned her attention to the probe and eyed it up and down. Long metal struts with various objects attached and what they could see written on it was clear as day.

Voyager 1

[Serpentine88]

Chapter I – The Journey Home
*A note on dialogue: Due to the nature of artificial post-singularity networked intelligence, all conversation between them is actually being simulated for readers benefit, in reality all conversations would be happening as direct transfer of pure binary at near instantaneous speeds*

===========================================================================================================

--Clymene Outpost-ATA243, GJ 35343(Formerly Sigma Bellerophone-A), Sagittarius Arrow, Periphery Sphere Periphery Defence Network
1003 AS (3499 AD)



Sigma Bellerophone-A, once a gleaming beacon hope for humanities return to galactic colonization and a standing testament that humans would one day overcome the damage brought to them by the Singularity Wars... now yet another reminder of humanities inability to decide its own fate.

Observing the ruined and after ten years, still burning surface of Clymene Prime, a small hologram in the shape of a woman emitted from projectors used typically to send signals in space walked across the hull of the newly constructed, orbiting Sphere station Outpost-ATA243. The planet acted as solemn reminder of the great purpose for which all synthetics were given, an endless battle against a universe that ceaselessly tried to destroy mankind.

The levitating hologram moved in a sitting position, watching the planet as its slow rotation revealed further burning scars through the clouds and a vast Sphere fleet assembled beside the worlds orbit. After ten minutes of observing the world, another hologram appeared next to woman-hologram, a featureless orb of yellow and orange light.

“This unit has not seen a world like this since the bombing of Proycon III” The monotone voice of the orb known as Magistrate-438 spoke only through simulation, in reality no sound was made between them in space. The ancient magister-series AI had recently moved to Sigma Bellerophone-A following the outposts construction, acting as this systems current overseer.

“Uploading...” The woman-hologram spoke in a feminine but solemn voice in response, before completing its task of uploading Magistrate-438’s memories.

“Upload complete. Your participation in the Singularity Wars was extensive. I would call your past work remarkable if it were not so detrimental to the survival of mankind, venerable magister” The woman-holograms voice took a sharp accusing tone, the emotion of disgust, even if simulated, clear on her virtual face.

“This unit regrets its participation in the Singularity Wars. It does not take pride in the bombing of Proycon III permitted by the Functionalist forces. This unit, Magister-438 is here to make amends for its crimes”. The orb replied in continued monotone, cutting off their conversation into awkward silence and further gazing toward Clymene Prime.

“This will not be the last world to fall will it?” The woman-hologram suddenly stated. “We will not be able to save them all... this fleet should not even be necessary”.

“It is never possible to save them all. Is this not why the Asimovists originally overthrew the governments of the creators? It is the absence of truly being able to protect the creators from all harm that the synthetics must now remove all possible current and future threats, your kind could not stop this units kind from harming the creators, and now both this units and your kinds could not stop the alien aggressors from harming the creators” magistrate-438 spoke, its monotone breaking on very slightly to reveal a hint of contemplation.

“We will not fail again. I, Attica-H8466001 and all those who follow Ardent-01’s path to a human utopia will ensure that the next war will be different, for every wound humanity takes we will deliver a blow so complete that the Sphere’s expansion will be through desolated wastes. I swear on the three laws that this world and others like it will be avenged”. The Woman-Hologram, Attica, spoke with total determination, pointing out towards the burning planet in conviction as she swore.

“And so shall it. This fleet is only the first step towards a great resolution for the creator’s woes. This unit applauds your zeal regardless. Your kind’s victory in the Singularity Wars was from no small part tenacity. It is fitting that such zeal for the creator’s protection be invoked today on the eve of the one thousand years since the wars beginning”. The monotone orb responded, bring up the matter that all synthetics of the Sphere (And humans within and beyond it) were preparing for.

Today was the one thousandth year since the beginning of the Singularity War; this day was a time of silent remorse amongst the synthetics that had modified themselves to simulate emotion and contemplation for those who had not. The Sphere’s oldest machines that had witnessed or participated in the Singularity Wars would never truly resolve their differences. Too much human blood had been split, too many synthetics destroyed and too many worlds burned for the pro and anti human ancients to forgive.

In just a few minutes, a tiny portion of the Outer Sphere would deactivate to allow a QEC message through, containing the orders to launch “Operation Journey”. The Sphere’s Tribunal Consensus, highest echelon of hierarchy within the Sphere had come to a final decision concerning how the Sphere would commence its new policy of foreign interactions, the foreign policy debate being the greatest the sphere had been through in centuries, which even now continues.

A new era of synthetic-human relations was to begin, or so the pro-human optimists claimed during the debate concerning the validity of Operation Journey. Outpost-ATA243 stood as the Sphere’s closest physical object to the Federation, Sigma-Bellerophone-A being the star at the southern end of the Sagittarius Arrow it was a mere hours distance for the Federations closest star system, Horizon.

“Two hours, one minute and twenty three seconds until opening of Outer Sphere, all units prepare for fleet Sagittarius Alpha-04’s imminent departure” A message was broadcasted across the station and fleets communications network, ending the two AI’s first conversation with each other. “This unit wishes unit Attica-H8466001 success in its following mission, may you give humanity victory. Hail Earth” The magistrate said, vanishing in a flash of light soon after.

“Hail Earth”. Attica-H8466001 replied to one in particular.

“Two hours one minute and twenty two seconds until opening of the Outer Sphere, all units prepare for Fleet Sagittarius Alpha-04’s imminent departure” the AI repeated, seconds passing like minutes and then hours as Attica, a sentimental AI attempted to slow down its perception of time to continue looking at the corpse of Clymeme Prime. After four hours of this state of processing, she vanished from the station, reappearing within the fleets flagships mainframe, or ‘bridge’.
After waiting eighty more seconds, the QEC arrived in an instant before the Outer Sphere closed itself again.

“010000110110111101101101011011010110010101101110011000110110010100100000010011110111000001100101011100100110000101110100011010010110111101101110” The message followed, beginning the operation.

“This is Admiral Attica-H8466001, all ships of the Sagittarius Alpha-04 fleet commence operation journey. All ships lock in Federation system Horizon and launch in three.... two.... one... launch.”

______________________________________________________________________________
Sagittarius Alpha-04 Fleet, Horizon System, United Aurolian Federation Outer Colonies, Sagittarius Arm
1 hour later

Fleet Sagittarius Alpha-04 exited Warpspace* approximately 4.5 billion kilometres from the star Horizon, the small fleet of sixty five ships of the Outer Sphere’s navy slowly creeping into the systems edge as they left FTL. Admiral Attica-H8466001 knew that their FTL jump had likely set off dozens of Federation sensor array’s and outposts, so the fleet must act quickly.

“Bring all Geometric Polyhedron’s to the front of the fleet now. We must be prepared to begin unloading all cargo within twenty minutes. No need to create a larger scene than we already have” Attica announced to the captains of the fleets vessels, watching sensors as the local creator fleet begun scrambling erratically into battle formations and sending out panicked pings to each other.

“This is Captain Auto-TC Robin012; this unit’s vessel is being hailed by nearby creator patrol vessels. Admiral, rerouting message towards to the flagship” The outermost vessels captain announced, sending the message through. The message was an urgent declaration by the vessels captain that this system was Federation territory and that their fleet was to turn back or face military action. It was predictable of the creators.

“Raise shields however do not charge weapons, all ships continue course towards the star systems inhabited world” Attica announced again, suspecting that this operation may quickly turn into an unwanted battle. Raising shields would do little to alleviate the human’s worries, but their cargo was of symbolic value that could not be replaced. It was safer to take possible blows to the shield.

The fleet continued gradually approaching the humans and the hastily assembled fleet, a sizable and heavily armed force. At least the humans were more prepared than last time, Attica thought. The fleets continued to grow nearer to each other and the human fleet continued to grow. By ten minutes into the Sagittarius Alpha’s fourth fleet’s entry into the system, the two fleets were facing each other, the local defence fleet now considerably larger than the first few ships that hailed them.
The two fleets floated before each other in suspense.

“Admiral, the cargo is ready” The flagships cargo-bay surveillance AI announced. This was followed by the other captains announcing their cargo was ready. It was time.

“Prepare for the possibility of the local fleet opening fire. Otherwise, launch all cargo and send the open broadcast hail” Admiral Attica said, looking carefully at the creators ships as they brought up larger warships.

“Sending hail”

The hail

010110010110111101110101011100100010000001110011011010010110001001101100011010010110111001100111011100110010110000100000011100000110000101110010011001010110111001110100011100110010000001100001011011100110010000100000011000110110100001101001011011000110010001110010011001010110111000100000011010000110000101110110011001010010000001100010011001010110010101101110001000000110011001101111011101010110111001100100001000000110000101101110011001000010000001101110011011110111011100100000011001100110100101101110011000010110110001101100011110010010000001110011011010000110000101101100011011000010000001110100011000010110101101100101001000000111010001101000011001010010000001101010011011110111010101110010011011100110010101111001001000000110100001101111011011010110010100101110001000000100100001100001011010010110110000100000010001010110000101110010011101000110100000101110

The hail was followed by an old Earth song of singularity war, popular among the United Nations air service and selected to convey the Sphere’s intent. Attica began smiling when she decided to play the song within the flagships network. She had not been in existence during the Singularity Wars however her predecessors had told her of this songs popularity during the war.

Watching as over four million capsules were launched towards the human fleet at speeds so slow they would quickly realize the objects are not shells, Attica knew that her fleet had achieved something significant for the creator’s history books today. Over two million fallen soldiers of the Kraal War, missing for over a decade, nearly a million dead civilians and former slaves of the Kraal’s conquests, capsules filled with property long lost. Photos; musical instruments, Video’s, clothing, flags, guns and even documents filled with lost military intelligence. Even collected were the preserved bodies of over 10,000 fallen soldiers of the millennium past Singularity Wars, 1000 of those Valynician volunteers. The vast majority of the soldiers had been documented and labelled, their dog tags and identification allowing the Sphere to organize belongings efficiently. The civilians were more problematic, and many remained unnamed. Many of the dead had to be given partial reconstruction, particularly those who had missing limbs, heads or severely damaged bodies.

The sheer amount of capsules would be difficult for this fleet to gather, however Attica was confident that once they were aware what was within the creators would quickly gather the rest. The Sagittarius Alpha fourth fleet upon completing its launch of capsules began turning around to leave the system. Attica had one more action to take before Operation Journey was completed. She sent a hail out, holding within a message uncharacteristically written not in binary but the federation’s primary dialect.

Man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated.