GalaxyNES- No Horizons

Part 1: In which abuse of situation is contemplated

OOC: Sorry for the delay, Lord_Iggy! Setting up Sekai, and all. Anyway, hope to settle a world sometime.

IC:

Drivach was my son. The solemn Samaynoch spoke. His Kalioch clan-fin trembled and his azunach oozed. Surrounding the middle-aged Samaynoch was a host of followers, all of them dripping the viscous liquid into the ground of the vessel. It coalesced and formed puddles by their fins below, curving around to create a drifting bubble in space. The Samaynoch surrounding the poor shark kept fear and sadness within their drifting eyes.

Drivach had never returned from his rite. His hephasi was found floating upward toward the Kalioch coves, and the clan elder shed azunach for him when the glow-coral expired. The elder had not made it out of Asdila, instead dying a forlorn death. He was sent with the dead glow-coral by his side. Drivach was never honored, for he had accomplished nothing. It shamed the Kalioch clan, even beyond the High Clans. But Kenasc, his father, would not let it impair his leadership. Not now.

The High Clans will hunt us down like eels. The Exiles were currently recovering from a vicious attack by the High Clans. Their metal-ships came swiftly and gunned down many azunach-vessels. Several Meli-Telanoch perished in that raid. They now huddled together in their remaining ships, debating their next move.

We can search for help. That was one collective cry. The greater was probably the following:

We can settle a new world.

Kenasc heard this throughout his clan. He wondered what the Mika and the Sucon-Ami clans thought. They had drifted further from the group. The three clans separated somewhat, but still maintained communications. They did not want to be centralized for the next attack. They did not want to risk the extinction of the Meli-Telanoch. A new world. Kenasc pondered the irony for a moment. The Meli-Telanoch were devoted to the creature that is Asdila, in all of its torment and agony. Finding a new world would surely be treacherous to some, more militant members of the Exiles. Yet the majority seemed clear on the issue. There would be no saving Asdila without the resources of a world. Kalioch geneticists specializing in the riaschol (the altering) had even warned Kenasc that the Exiles cannot drift permanently.

We have discovered other beings in the stars. Perhaps they could help. Kenasc thought. But no. They seemed content to mine their planets and asteroids, and while they had been courteous to the drifting Exiles, they had done little to ease the tension space can inflict on a band of nomads.

Kenasc put his head down. A glop of azunach broke apart from the larger vessel and formed two bubbles amidst the frozen white stars. They flung from the vessel, carrying communique to the Mika and Sucon-Ami clans:

Let us find a world suitable for the Exiles. Only then can we confront the High Clans.

Click to expand...

As a shark swims deeper from the clan cliffs of Asdila, the world becomes black. There is a brief moment on the way down in which plankton light up furiously, coalescing into clusters, acting as lanterns for darkened eyes. This region of the sea is a bridge between life and death. The fires of the deep are spirits of fallen warriors, guiding those who are brave enough to search the depths.

He tightened his grip on his hephasi and felt the water become colder and colder. His dorsal fin began to tingle. Then, he sensed blood. Drivach had reached the depths.

The young Samaynoch had sensed blood many times throughout his life. The first hunt. The battle near the coves. Wounds from training. The blood he sensed now was different; it seemed to be growing in strength as he swam. It seemed to be everywhere.

The water was pitch black. Drivach could not see a thing. He could only sense. If a glow-coral were to sink and remain lit, it would reveal a blood-soaked ocean and the writhing of many creatures. Anything dead or lost in the sea sank, and this is where it came to be devoured.

Drivach swam aimlessly, his fins touching carcasses and rocks. The sea was completely silent.

Two small yellow spheres lit up in the distance, moving in unison towards Drivach. He began to hear, but not a calling or even a whistle. He only heard the water churning and stone cracking. The spheres danced for a bit and then rushed forward. Drivach readied his hephasi. As he did this, he could feel the wriggling movements of many arms surrounding his body. One of these plunged into his side, sending him snout-first into what smelled like a rotting whale. The grip on his hephasi loosened as one of the arms strangled his right fin. The arm then loosened its grip, but the golden spheres continued to dance. Drivach was without his weapon of the rite.

The young Samaynoch was drifting in and out of dizziness. He had lost all feeling in one of his fins. His Kalioch dorsal continued to tingle as it guided his body through the cold current. Several other arms pounded into his gut from beneath his body, flinging him toward the creature's eyes. As he approached the golden orbs, he could see the tiny pupils of the creature attempting to consume him. The black specks flicked around a bit and then curled back into the orbs. Drivach was free yet again. He began to swim away, but once again the tentacles curled and spun into the back of his head, wrapping around his dorsal fin and hurling him around. This time they did not let go, and Drivach felt his body numbing.

The tentacles flung him again. Drivach was tossed through the corpses of several creatures. His back hit another massive carcass. He smelled whale. Drivach reached out his fin and felt around. Using his left fin, he dislodged a large bone from the whale carcass he had come to occupy. The tentacles continued to press his dorsal fin, sending searing pain throughout his body. Sliding to tighten, the arms brought him towards the golden spheres once more. Drivach stared into the menacing lights, their pupils returning for a quick scan. He then plunged the bone into the right eye. A piercing screech dominated the current. It penetrated his eardrums. The tentacles relaxed and Drivach was free once more.

The creature was stunned. The warrior grabbed the bone lodged in the its right eye, moving it in a circular motion. The orb popped out of a socket, and remained at the tip of the bone. Removed from the creature's socket, the whole eyeball emanated a glowing, golden light. Drivach waved the makeshift lantern in front of him to reveal a gargantuan mouth chomping aimlessly. He swam quickly to another whale carcass, removing yet another bone with his mouth, keeping it clamped between his teeth. He continued to light the struggle using the dislodged creature-eye. Drivach pinpointed the snaking arms and he began to block them. They still managed to slap him around a bit, considering his lack of strength at this point. Drivach's swimming was sloppy without his right fin. Determined, the Kalioch warrior systematically assaulted the various arms attempting to grab him. He wriggled his body and used the larger bone, still sticking out from his jaw, to stun the tentacles. He let go of the bone in his mouth and swam quickly to the other eye, plunging the unused edge of the smaller bone into the side of the orb at a carving angle. Using all of his strength, he cut that one from its socket, too. Another loud, piercing cry was heard.

The tentacles began to move in all directions, hitting Drivach many times. However, the tentacles had become noticeably weaker. He waved the eye-piercing bone around a bit, revealing once again the gaping mouth. He could finally see the entire shape of the head. It was gray and riddled with pulsing, purple veins. Swimming quickly, but no less clumsily, Drivach planted himself directly into the side of the creature's "head", clamping its sticky flesh with his powerful jaw. Another piercing cry. While the creature wailed, Drivach's jaw became tighter. He continued to take the periodic slapping of tentacles on his back, stinging his body. A tentacle once again grabbed his dorsal fin, squeezing it, but was unable to remove the Samaynoch. Drivach's jaw still firmly set into the creature's head, he pushed the whale bone into the creature's flesh. One of the eyes flaked off, sinking below the struggle and revealing limp tentacles and plenty of fresh, brackish blood. He dug deeper and clamped tighter, fighting the urge to release and tend to his severely injured dorsal fin. Finally, the tentacle wrapping around his fin released its hellish grip and the creature ended its foul cries.

Drivach swam away from the fleshy skull, taking some of the creature into his mouth and swallowing.

Ullau anarchist attack:


Link to video.

I hope to write some story(ies) soon!!

The Dictates of the Hegemony

Kena, who was once our most stalwart and loyal defender, has been irrevocably tainted by her actions. Kena was dispatched to terminate Shamai, but some madness or weakness compelled our agent to spare the heretic’s life. For centuries, Kena worked in collaboration with Shamai, and in recognition of her long and dutiful service, this indiscretion was forgiven. Shamai was pardoned at Kena’s behest, only to shortly thereafter hae his horrific flaunting of the genetic taboo revealed. At last, Kena accepted her responsibility and terminated Shamai, but it seems that this change of heart came far too late. For, as is now clear to us all, Kena has been thoroughly tainted by the corruption of Shamai. It hangs around her presence like an overbearing stench. Willfully flouting the law of the hegemony, Kena has been drawn down the same dark path as the fallen Zan. She embraces the monstrous spawn brought forth by the sundering of the genetic taboo, and seeks to subvert the rest of the Zan, just as she was subverted by the twisted machinations of Shamai. Her actions would seek to degrade us to petty mortality, and bring the cataclysm upon our people once again. Gotterdammerung is upon us, should Kena’s vision be realized.

Thus, let the word of the Hegemony be known. Any Zan who aligns themselves with Kena has embraced heresy and the abdication of divinity. All loyal servants of the Hegemony shall seek to make these abdicants recant, and draw them back into the fold.

Kena. Your long and dutiful service has led us to give you far more leeway in your actions than was warranted, and this has been our greatest mistake. You were once a hero amongst the Zan, but now you have transformed into everything we stand against. It seems unimaginable that this day has come, and it is nothing less than utter tragedy that it has come to this. For your espousal of heresy and acts against the Zan Hegemony, you are forever cast out. Your life is forfeit. Your legacy is blackened. By all-consuming light, crushing darkness and the scatterings of time, you shall be pursued for an eternity, or annihilated in battle.

To: Collectivity of Sanath
From: Kara'Tash

Hello, and forgive my lack of previous opportunities for correspondence. I have been traveling with the Zan Kena since I last departed, and have been unable to transmit messages until now in order to maintain my cover. There is much I have learned and wish to communicate to you, but I shall cover the most pertinent details first.

The Zan Hegemony is going to war against Kena. Kena is not without allies- unfortunately, the vast majority of those sympathetic to Kena's position are possessed of limited military power or influence. Kena has spent the majority of the time since I first made contact preparing for a war, and the technology provided by Shamai, most notably the Dirge of Eternity, presents Kena with a potent edge. However, I am aware, as I believe you are, that the Hegemony maintains many ancient weapons of massive potency which have yet to be utilized.

Now, for notes directly relevant to Sanath. Zan forces are going to be converging on Kena's space, which may cause conflict with local species neighbouring Kena, such as yourselves. I am uncertain of the intentions of the Zan who may potentially trespass on your space- they may simply transit through to reach Kena, or they will conquer or destroy everything on their way to Kena's systems. There seems to be a fairly wide variation in modi operandi amongst the Zan- troublingly, Kena seems to be viewed as one of the less bloodthirsty.

Please transmit my dearest regards to the House of Rashtala, and to all of the Collectivity. Difficult times are ahead, but I am optimistic that the Zan can yet be saved, and the galaxy along with them.

Jubbla research laboratory.
Researcher Qu's log
Day 1
The Jubbla. A small flying insect/rodent that display clear tool using capabilities. individual, their level of intelligence appears to be quite low, but level of intelligence tends to increase logarithmically to the number of other Jubbla nearby. Large groups can display quite complex thought patterns.
they also display a strange ability to physically adapt themselves to various environments. while most of these changes tend to be minor in nature and not obvious to a casual observer, they have been in some rather extreme environments. the most prominent example being their recent adaptation of themselves and symbiotic species to live in the hard vacuum of space.
They managed to hitch a ride on quite a few space craft and establish colonies on almost all the space stations in orbit before we noticed the presence during a routine inspection. while we are still waiting from word from other worlds regarding their spread, precautions have been taken and removal of barnicals from outbound spacecraft are quite straight forward and quick on most ships. removal from the stations are.. a bit more problematic. heavy wielding equipment would be required if not the removal of entire hull plates. More trouble then it's worth, especially since the jubbla try to avoid sensors and other equipment on the hull.
In the meantime, while we wait for orders from higher up, this laboratory has been established to study this fascinating development, and to study the jubbla more closely, hopefully establishing a means to communicate with them.

The ship had settled by a charcoal waterfall, in a camp with other refugees. The cliffside shone a striated black, crystal ridges protruding from the eroding edges. Trees clung to every plausible surface, young, twisting, and vibrantly green; blue and sulfur clouds mixed in a lavender sky.

Peri watched them all from her window, bored and a little restless. The anarchists had taken her aboard their ship and away from the attacking imperialist forces on Taki – for that she was grateful. But they had not seen fit to let her go: she knew too much about them now, and if the Fleet knew Marikihi lurked on Anlu – a world firmly under their thumb...

And so she'd been locked in here. Even electronic gadgetry had been banned to her, in the fear that she might somehow hack a reader and use it to send a signal to her superiors, despite Peri's (mostly truthful) protestations that she had no idea how to do that. The fact that Peri had an implant that would eventually lead Oerra's Fehan to them, even if it would take a few days – well... that she didn't really see fit to mention.

The door opened, and Peri found herself face to face with Marikihi again.

“I thought I'd pay you a visit,” Marikihi said, oddly formal. The door closed behind her.

“You're very welcome here. It's been very dull.”

“I can imagine. I've been trying to decide whether to let you go.” Peri looked up at that. “Odds are that somehow they'll trace you to here, and then I'll be caught yet again. And, if I should leave and take you with me, to wherever we might go from there. But the odds are also very good that if I leave you here, you'll be able to give Oerra a great deal of intelligence about us.”

“So why aren't you killing me and making your way to some other colony?”

Marikihi looked at her in disgust. “Unlike some people, I have a moral code that frowns upon killing.”

“Oerra does not. If you really want to escape her, you're not going to win by playing nicely. You have to play by her rules.”

“I would count that as a loss, too. Why are you so insistent on me killing you?”

“Do you know how boring imprisonment is?”

Marikihi looked at her a long while, her snout curling slightly in amusement. It was only then that Peri noticed the wrinkles on her nose – the scientist must have smiled early and often, once upon a time. It was an odd thought; every time Peri had seen her, she'd been quite solemn. The death of laughter. It was an odd way to see a war.

“The point is,” Marikihi continued after a long pause, “I have to make some choice one way or another. My crew here needs to leave. Somehow, we need to escape Oerra.”

“Yes.”

“How can I do that?”

“You're asking me?”

“The room at large, if it makes you more comfortable.”

“Anything I told you would be suspect.”

“Perhaps I'm just going to do the opposite of what you tell me, Peri. Who knows. The point is, I'm looking for ideas, and maybe you have them.”

“Short of you putting a bullet through my tail, I don't see how you're going to get out of this.”

Marikihi sighed. It was odd, really. Despite everything, some small part of Peri wanted the poor scientist to win. Somehow.

“Peri, what do you know of the anarchists?”

“I'm hardly a political scientist. I've killed more than a few of them, but I can't say that means I –”

“The anarchists have been around for centuries now. We're not as old as, say, the White Masks, or any other given Fehan organization. But we are old. It was harder to communicate on the surface of Helan, with all the regulation and oversight by the empires. But now, in space... The Fleet hardly cares what anyone writes or does, as long as it doesn't impact them, or the long term survival of the species. It's proved an alluring cause...

“You realize that for ten thousand years Fehan society has been under the domination of a few individuals. Ten thousand years! No one did much beyond eat and whistle ten thousand years ago. All of our development – all of our history. It's all taken place under the rule of tyrants.

“And we know that things could be different. Look at the Akari! They had a Republic. An admittedly corrupt one, but a republic nonetheless. And if we look through the histories of the other races, almost every one of them has had a mixed history, with rule by a few in some places, and rule by many in others. Everywhere except Fehan. Do you know why?”

“I'd never given it much thought.”

“It's not evolutionary. My xenobiologist and xenosociologist friends have looked into this in detail. Our species is no more uncooperative than any other. If you take our people in a vacuum, we will work together. We solve problems faster by working together, as does any other species. Almost every people we've met has been a social species. And yet they have all been different.

“I've heard a few theories tossed around. The best explanation I've heard is their practice of copulation. In prehistoric times, they could forge friendships between families by sexual alliances. Our people had no such means of linkage. We had to fight, and subdue, and that was coded into our society's structure through the generations. We created systems where the only way to advance was to kill, or at least to subdue. And that had reverberations through those ten millennia – we never learned how to get along peacefully, so to speak.”

“It's an interesting theory,” Peri said carefully, “But what does this have to do with me?”

“We were trying to get away from that. The anarchists, I mean. We don't desire to rotate the social hierarchy and place the worst-off in better places than they were before. That's a largely pointless procedure – I mean, sure, they benefit from it, but it just perpetuates the cycle. We have to radically restructure society altogether. We have to eliminate the systems that we've developed over so many generations, the ones which say you have to kill. The ones which say that we have to put some figure at the fore of our society, with a little matriarchy given nepotistic positions of power.

“You already know that the Fleet works this way – partly. You get advanced by merit. Nominally. Of course, people are always happy to place their daughters in subordinate positions. If we don't fight against it, in another thousand years the system will ossify, because it buys into the same abysmal social theories as the rest of the Fehan.

“We want to change that. We want to remake society – a space-age society for a space-age people, a people who are otherwise stuck in some kind of ancient system which has existed more or less unchanged for thousands of years. But most of all, do you know what we want to do?

“We want to give people a choice.

“You're a daughter of the Fleet. You follow Oerra's every bidding, because you're ordered to. You accept that, because that's how you operate. You don't question, because no one you know and no one you ever have known would question that impulse. But I do.

“So what does this all have to do with you, Peri? It's quite simple.

“You've done what the Admiral has told you all your career. I don't know if you played a part in glassing Sathan, or Katifan, but you at least witnessed it. Are you honestly telling me that never bothered you? I don't know what it is, but I feel like I've seen enough of you to know that you wouldn't genocide a people, not really. Not under normal circumstances. But you did anyway, because you don't follow your own heart. You follow Oerra's.

“So this is my question.

“What do you want?”

There was a long pause, one that seemed to stretch on forever and ever. Peri couldn't seem to speak. Eventually, Marikihi turned to leave.

“I'll let you think about it.”

The door locked behind her. Peri turned to the window, and contemplated the thousand reds of the sunset.


OOC: I let this die for a while while I was at college, but I feel the need to finish the arc if nothing else. Just so everyone's aware, in game time this story probably occurred an update or so ago -- Peri's arc was meant to cover at most two updates.

Great to see that continuation NK!

Ah, you’re awake again. Hello.

Hmm? Kendra? Wait, what happened?

I get up – or try to – and for a moment, panic strikes me yet again… Where am I? Am I trapped again?

No, not again.

The pod is sealed, but you can leave any time you want. You have been placed here to recover.

I… see. I see…

I see the white-gray of the pod, and see my hands, but… Sight? This isn’t sight. This isn’t what I had called sight. But now I’ve gotten used to it, and now I can… perceive… so, so much more.

I relax.

So, did we reach home, Kendra?

…Tsk.

Hmm?

You are still having problems remembering things after you rest like this.

Oh?

…Wait, just how long was I out?

Much longer than you seem to think.

---

My return has not been as expected.

While the war with those strange new invaders was being waged all around us, the kuppelborgs and the free hamme alike had sallied forth, and as far as we knew the earliest enemy attacks have been held at bay through this uneasy cooperation. It wasn’t until later that we found out what was happening at the same time on the other side of the planet, after all. Borg Iruskan – hamme Irkner – led the fight, here. This caused resentment, as had their profligate cloning. But for now their help was necessary.

This enemy was terrible, after all.

After many years of stewing in our own juices, we were attacked out of nowhere by a relentless enemy, bent not on victory, but on destruction. What made them even worse, however, was the way they could disrupt the networks that tied the hamme together. This spread chaos, confusion and disarray.

It also created an opportunity.

I was learning things very quickly these days. Between Kendra’s tutelage and my own conclusions, I managed to figure out a great deal about what was happening to me – and what happened to us as a species – though not enough, never enough.

I had remembered now the ancient legends, of leaders who possessed a special sight that pointed out enemy weaknesses, who could easily convert enemies to their cause, whose blows could break through heavy armour and who could reach out to their dead friends for guidance. I knew now that the legends were true. Those with such power must have once been key to the survival of our hunting packs on our violent and inhospitable homeworld. Then, they became the making and unmaking of empires.

We outgrew that power, of course, with all of our advanced technology and networks…

Or rather, we suppressed it at some point and replaced the ties of leaders and followers with the ties of religion and hamme kinship – reinforced by the networks and the ancestor recordings. Those things had their place, of course, and they saw us get all the way to this world.

But now, Kendra urged me, we needed something else; something older and more powerful. And as I travelled homewards I have become increasingly willing to see things his way.

The hamme’s network has been devastated shortly before our arrival. The leaders – Staphon, Orgmar, godar Bruslaw himself – were in dismay and busily trying to rally hamme Oswig together. There was no time to explain what happened to me underneath borg Iruskan. Instead, I tried to persuade them that they had to follow my leadership. I knew that an attack was coming, and I already figured out how to fight it off – but I required the hamme’s absolute obedience…

Something went wrong with my first attempt at domination, though. But at least they joined Kendra in my mindscape. Their wisdom was added to mine, and their voices, in due time, came to assist and advise me: Bruslaw reluctantly and grudgingly, Staphon with badly hidden enthusiasm for this newly uncovered path and Orgmar…

It was now bittersweet, to call upon Orgmar, for he never did understand what has happened to him. To us.

It didn’t matter, back then. I had to hurry, and at least this made me stronger and gave me access to all of our remaining defenses. The attack came. The hamme submitted to my will, almost without exception – it’s not as though the network was the only thing holding us together. Indeed, with it out of the way I have been able to establish a new link. With Kendra’s help, I augmented it so as to surpass the network. My forces were now in my mind, as were the weaknesses I had perceived during my earlier encounter with the enemy – the running, flying and crawling things I had skirmished with on the way home and the greater being that had spawned them.

We managed to take them out, then. We had to waste a great deal of our defiance stores – the explosive stockpiles that were meant to destroy our homes in case an enemy had threatened to seize them – and also converting our ancient spacecraft to be used as aircraft, so as to take out the enemy forces from afar, denying them any of their strengths when possible. Breaking taboos was easy when the whole hamme was in my mind; any resistance was not hard to sweep aside.

This simply had to be done for our victory. And win we did, destroying the foul spawner.

Of course, hamme Oswig could hardly pretend things were the same after that happened. Myself, I too did not have any answers for them or myself prepared yet. But all of that came later, or so Kendra told me.

Back then, the most important thing I realised was that hamme Oswig was just the beginning.

…So I did not stop there.

After I (as Orgmar) made myself (as Helgi) the godar, I headed to the sanctum. Bruslaw and Staphon were both wary of this action, but Kendra was both insistent and helpful – I accessed the memories of the ancestors and connected them to my mind as well, though not as closely as I did with those whom I had known while they were alive. Having determined that I could use them or shut them off to my satisfaction, I took the time to give the orders to the people of my hamme. They were granted full autonomy, but I retained strong links, especially to the leaders of the scouting teams and the pilots of our newly remade aircraft.

I needed to take stock of the actual war, as soon as possible.

At first I thought that I would need to start thinking about the global scale now, but it soon became clear that this was impracticable – the electromagnetic attacks of the invaders, and the appearance of vast flocks of their fliers made contacting hamme on the other sides of the world nearly impossible. In any case, there were plenty of local concerns to deal with first – other spawners that have arrived in the region.

But there were none near us, God be praised, and they focused either on their “neighbour” hamme or on borg Iruskan as the biggest threats. In the time that this gave me, I made an effort to marshal my forces without becoming too involved in the struggles of others. Through Kendra, I refined and developed – but mostly rediscovered – some of the old technology that fell out of use during the Settling Era. We tried – and failed – to steal the secret of mass clone production from hamme Irkner of borg Iruskan. We were more successful in scavenging the ruins of some lesser overran hammes. We even found some survivors, and persuaded them to join us – that was easy, as their networks were gone and they were nearly mad, but with some caution and despite some early problems, I was able to quell the madness.

Hamme Verlaw, our enemies, have requested our assistance. They were a little leery of what little they knew about us – mostly from failing to spy on our network, which no longer existed in the shape that they could recognise. Nonetheless, they had no one else to turn to, regarding hamme Irkner as the greater abomination. Now that we learned to be less reliant on our communication technology, we proved able to sneak up on and dispatch the spawner that endangered hamme Verlaw.

I spoke with their godar, and he revealed a plan – he thought that the invaders were on the retreat now, but hamme Irkner were out in full force, and would not agree to destroy their clone army after winning. We needed to take them down now. Hamme Verlaw has acquired plans that would allow them to infiltrate and sabotage hamme Irkner’s network centres and the key areas of borg Iruskan – except, hamme Irkner would probably notice hamme Verlaw infiltrators. Hamme Oswig, however, with our strange new technologies…

We bargained for a while and eventually reached an agreement, and I received full access to their reconnaissance data. Before I left, however, I left the Verlaw godar with special orders, of the sort that he would not be able to resist or properly comprehend, thinking that they come from him. He will launch an all-out attack on hamme Irkner’s regular guards. He will not engage the clone army, posted as it was in forward bases of hamme Irkner by this point.

I led the infiltration teams, bypassing or eliminating all resistance while the warriors of hamme Irkner and hamme Verlaw fought outside. I did not destroy borg Iruskan. I did destroy hamme Irkner’s network, testing some things that we have developed in an effort to replicate some of the abilities of the invaders – specifically their electromagnetic attack. But before I deployed it, I have gained access to their network and sent the clones into slumber mode. Then I set out with a smaller retinue to claim the army. This was it, the moment I was waiting for.

The minds of the clones were so suggestible and weak. Being peacefully disabled rather than forcefully cut off from the network meant that they would not rampage, and simply wait. Fortunately, the invaders didn’t get to tear up most of them by the time I got there. I took over the clones, and fought off the incursion.

Then I fell on hamme Verlaw. I did not bother adding their godar to my mind, for he was old and senile, and broken by my orders.

Then I finished off hamme Irkner.

Then I moved hamme Oswig into borg Iruskan, and made it my new base. I converted or terminated all remaining (unattached) hammenammir in the area. I then expanded outwards, claiming new hamme as my allies or absorbing particularly weak or broken ones entirely. My headaches got worse, but my control did not falter – at least not yet, and my forces seemed to retain some measure of coherency and their usual autonomy even when I started to black out. I had no time to perfect the process, though. My war was still only beginning.

Even while the other hammenammir of Destination desperately fought to survive, I was beginning to work on creating something new, that our people had not known for millenia.

An Empire.

I am overjoyed to read that das.

Work resumes on the update.

It didn't take long at all!

OOC: Just as forewarning, this won't make sense unless you've read AT LEAST the other story of mine on this page. I feel like I've given this a good arc; just about one more story should do it for Peri and company.


The ship lay almost silent, echoing faintly with the clangor of the docking mechanism. Metallic undertones eluded the ear, slowly replaced by the steady and swaying rhythm of breathing. Peri looked at nothing in particular. A red sun filled her gaze, burning sullenly behind an ancient Fehan outpost: one of those ruins created by the sheer excess of those first years of fleet-building.

She felt old.

“Well done.” Peri turned slightly. Oerra's face wore the faintest look of triumph, an expression Peri had only seen once before – all those years, and the thing Peri remembered best wasn't the planet consumed by radioactive fire... it was that smile.

Oerra sidled up beside her. Peri fought a slight shiver. “Brilliantly done, almost. Bloodless, near effortless... how did you ever convince her to come here?”

Peri gave a noncommittal gesture, still avoiding looking at the commander. “Marikihi fancies herself scarred, paranoid, even; but she's ultimately very trusting. I told her there would be an abandoned depot here, with all the tools she'd ever need for her work.” She'd neglected to tell Marikihi that Oerra would be there as well.

“Yes, yes, of course. But how did you ever get her to trust you?”

Peri hesitated. Was she supposed to explain friendship? To Oerra, of all people?

“Never mind, it's not important right now. The point is that you've performed with distinction, and I want to pay you accordingly.”

“You don't need t –”

“This isn't a favor, Peri, it's payment. I like to reward my competent subordinates. They are so very, very rare; I have to incentivize intelligence some way or another.” Oerra looked at her. “What do you want, Peri? Money? A command post? Name it, you'll get it.”

“I'll have to think about it.”

“Please do.” At that moment a message beeped on the commander's communicator. “Ah, yes. Send them up.” Oerra's look of triumph solidified slightly. “We have our scientist.”

Peri couldn't think of anything to say to that, so they stood a while, side by side, in silence, watching the slowly rotating wreck of a space station float over a smoldering sun and listening to the muffled thrum of machinery slowly coming to life. She couldn't help thinking about the last time she'd seen Marikihi. She looked sideways at Oerra, who, oddly for the admiral, seemed rather lost in her own thoughts.

“She gave me a choice, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“Marikihi. She would have let me come with her.”

“Come with her where? On her long flight from the fleet? To be hunted to the ends of the galaxy for no particular cause, in a never-ending story of dislocation?” Oerra's snout curled. “I'm not sure I see how that is a particularly enticing offer.”

“Regardless of that, she offered to let me come with her, knowing full well that you probably would have ended up tracking her down that way.”

“So she was stupid.”

“She was kind.”

“They are usually one and the same.”

Peri made an indistinct noise, then sniffed. “It was interesting, though. Talking to her. Did you know? – she's also an out-and-out anarchist.”

“Unsurprising. Most of the scientific community has leanings that way, even if they're not brave enough to admit it in public.”

“We actually had quite the lengthy discussion o –”

At that moment, the doors opened. Marikihi hung between two soldiers, uncuffed but looking rather bruised. Her face wore a look of disgust while she met eyes with Oerra; when she saw Peri standing beside her, her eyes widened hugely. A look of pure hurt followed close on the heels of surprise; when she saw it, Peri almost had to turn away to hide her shame.

“Marikihi. It is so good to meet you.”

“Admiral. I wish I could say the same.”

“I've heard about you for a long time now.”

“On that count, I could indeed say the same.”

“Clever – brilliant, even. Possibly the greatest Fehan mind of the last three centuries. You could do tremendous things, but you've spent more time lately running from us than working on whatever might give you yourself happiness.”

“Perhaps running from you does give me happiness.”

“I understand, I think, to some degree, the scientist's desire to know, even if I don't entirely share it. Curiosity is a powerful impulse, and one that I've never been keen to suppress. To understand, to seek – that is something that perhaps I wish I had. But surely you know that higher mysteries will remain locked away as long as you refuse to work within the system.”

“Perhaps I've already worked out the answers; I'll just never tell.”

“It is not an odd thing, either, to want to be free of society. I myself have often viewed it as something of a burden, a distraction which demands I sacrifice valuable time and energy to placate the gods of gregariousness. Not to say that I find others worthless – just that they are difficult. But that does not mean I had to avoid it, and neither should you. We play the little games of formality not because they are worthwhile for their own sake, and not because morality demands it, but because they are the grease in the wheels of our species. Without them, we would be a broken race, unable to achieve the heights of starfaring.”

“I don't intend to break society, I intend to remake it.”

“I'm not telling you this to convert you from your political belief system. I'm telling you this to help you understand what I desire in the next few days. I want to keep you protected from the imperial powers on Helan, who would rather keep you as some curiosity than as a scientist. I'm not interested in shackling you, Marikihi. I'm interested in results. I'm interested in the depths of knowledge which our species could plumb if we delved just a little deeper. And I know you, too, are interested in those depths. So I do not ask you to like me. From what my assistant has told me, that is likely impossible. I don't even expect you to regard me neutrally. You may hate me if you wish; many have. I ask you to respect the fact that circumstance of time and place have forced you into my sphere of influence, and rather than fight it like some spoiled child, you work with the place life has allotted to you, and try to make what difference you can in the world.”

Oerra paused for a moment, and Peri chanced a glance at Marikihi's expression. It did not look particularly convinced, but the scientist seemed somewhat impressed. Oerra was far less a brute than people usually gave her credit for, though perhaps the glassing of multiple worlds gave something of an edge to first impressions.

“If you have any additional questions, I'd be happy to answer them for you. Our research team will be around shortly to show you the labs you'll be working with. Be as sullen as you want, but pay attention.”

Marikihi tilted her head. “I do have one question.”

“Yes?”

“Peri.” Marikihi's eyes met hers. “I thought...”

Peri kept her face as still as possible, aware that Oerra's glance was passing between the two of them. “You'll understand before the end.”

Oerra made a motion, and the guards carried Marikihi out of the room again. The scientist's tail seemed slumped from weariness, but maybe it was just her imagination.

The two of them were left alone in the room once more. Oerra closed her eyes and breathed several times. “It's difficult, you know.”

“Sorry?”

“Ruling by fear. I have to admit I like the control, but getting hate like that the first time you meet someone... every time you meet someone...”

Peri stood very still, as though she were near some wild animal ready to burst into flight. Oerra... confiding in her?

But then the admiral shook her head. “Sorry. It can be irritating, that's all. I think she'll crack before too long, don't you agree?”

Peri flexed her paws.

“Admiral, I think I've decided.”

“Hmm?”

“On my reward.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“I'd like a command post.”

Oerra tilted her head at that. “Well, don't be coy about it. Which command post?”

“Yours.”

“I don't –”

Peri's grip tightened, and the tiny concealed gun in her fist went off with a loud crack. A bullethole appeared in Oerra's tail, blood leaking rapidly from her braincase and almost immediately pooling on the floor.

The Admiral stopped, swayed, drooped. “What – how – how do you think you're going to get away with this. This isn't mutiny –” her voice grew weaker “– it's out and out assassination.”

“I know what it is, Oerra, and I know the consequences. This is what I want.”

With that, she died.

Oh. Snap.

Update Music

Update 26
Imagine Dragons: Radioactive and Celldweller: Gift For You (Nightcore Remix)

Update 26

Over the past several generations, One has grown increasingly distant towards the people of the Galactic Republic. While this has gone noticed only by the few people who directly interact with Mother One, the ancient artificial intelligence’s influence on the Republic, seen by many as undue, is beginning to generate a level of resentment amongst the population, many of whom are beginning to doubt the intentions of the godlike figure.

Despite this growing concern amongst the population, the fleets of the Galactic Republic continue to grow, and the resource-hungry stellar nation continues its gleeful rape of the Star-Forest. While the Dendro are reduced to a few controlled parklands in most of the Republic’s systems, they remain largely wild on Palmate. Meanwhile, difficulties with the Dendro continue to stymie colonization efforts on Falcate and Barat. Biologists from Garv’n have determined that both of these worlds possess a strain of Dendro quite different than those who were so easily defeated in years past. Massive, marginally intelligent and brutal, these trees seem to be the ‘Root of Barat’ that the few remaining Mouths of the Dendro speak of, when they aren’t wailing haunting songs of the death of their people into the uninterested ears of the Fudirunins, Lauki, Verthommes and Cherwels who have taken over their worlds.

The Galactic Republic’s skirmishing with Ma’Autra ramps up, as more and more of the Republic’s vessels are shipped corewards. One directed a large force to seize Zarr, to serve as a staging point for what promises to be the final, decisive invasion of the Empire of the Maus. However, before the invasion of Ma’Autra itself could begin, the Republic would have to deal with the locals on Zarr.

The Skriv, detecting these new arrivals with the same uncanny prescience that they have exercised each time an explorer has been unfortunate enough to stumble into their system, immediately activated the terrible, derelict fleet scattered around their world’s orbit. Republic scans indicated that this fleet included, beyond the standard assortment of unidentifiable, a significant collection of archaic Ma’Autran ships- possibly the vessels abandoned after the first ill-fated venture of the Lauki-Maus into the system nearly a thousand years in the past.

The two fleets clashed, with the Galactic Republic displaying a clear superiority in firepower, though suffering from a relative lack of numbers. The opening volleys of combat tore apart numerous Skriv-piloted vessels, and nanobot swarms were released a few seconds before the Skriv vessels closed to point blank range.

Vicious and chaotic melee ensued, and the battle was resolved within minutes. The junkyard fleet of the Skriv was ruined, at the cost of just a single Lauki-piloted vessel. The local Choon merely looked on as the Galactic Republic’s forces set out to construct a resupply base in the area. To the planetary surface, however, they dare not go, for the Skriv are still present there in numbers that the Republic simply can’t take down in through conventional warfare with their present resources in the area.

Ma’Autra continues to re-establish itself, still largely unaware of the advance of the Galactic Republic. The Rogue Fleet marshals itself in the coreward side of the Pillar Nebula, deep in the hinterlands of Ma’Autran space. Here, the Rogue population is happy to take time to adventure through the largest and densest nebula in known space.

As the vast fleet of the Rama continues consuming the worlds of the Utarites, a passing Wera takes note, and decides to eat an entire section of Ra’s fleet over the ruined world of Utar-Prime, reaffirming the Wera as the apex predator of the interplanetary ecosystem. Alarmed by the sudden disappearance of so many worldships, the remnant of the Rama fleet flees spinwards from Dotaea, advancing towards Ma’Autra.

Conflict continues to bubble in the ruins of the fallen empire of the Zan Shamai. Sanathi fleet presence in the region has grown ever more prominent, even as settlers and miners from the Collectivity begin to harvest the planetary husks left behind by the ravenous Zan. The Association of Fplinmy has been quite unhappy with recent intrusions into its region of space, and vocal in its demands for the Collectivity to back away from the virgin worlds over which the Association claims stewardship. Unfortunately for the Yplein and Yjogl, these messages have gone largely unheeded by the Collectivity Management Bureau. Adding a further unexpected element to the confusion, the Collectivity has encountered the Kog’Vlad, who have maintained a small fleet in their home system without ever venturing beyond.

Much more of Sanath’s attention has been directed towards the unassuming Jubblera. Communication between the two groups has generally been disjointed and hostile, and small Sanathi research settlements have been growing quickly into resource extraction colonies, drawing much ire from the Jubblera trueminds. However, as far as conflict goes, the Jubblera really cannot be much more than pests, or minor threats to individual organisms within the Collectivity. Despite this, research has continued apace. The Collectivity has observed recent dispersals of the Jubblera genus throughout their native systems, witnessing the swarm’s impressive ability to modify their own genetics without the need for any obvious technological devices. This ability has been suggested as a sign that the Jubblera may be far more capable and intelligent than they let on- or alternatively, that as they have evolved the ability to do such things instinctively, they never needed the intelligence required to develop technologies of their own. Meanwhile, scouts continue to find Jubblera hives, many of which are dormant, scattered throughout many minor planets and moons in the region. The exact method by which the Jubblera actually move from planet to planet remains entirely occluded to Sanathi understanding.

Spinwards, in the infected world of Amur, massive bioengineering efforts by Thachugi Waglafar Thialexiu Xatchrli, have borne fruit with the generation of tremendous, sentient organic beings, capable of serving as interstellar transports. A first wave has been dispatched out from the adopted home planet of the Galactic Socialist Democratic Union, setting out into the void to spread themselves, and to bring an end to those who would seek to halt their expansion.

Simultaneously to this burst of expansion, the last uninfected remnants of Amur’s old population have begun to settle a new world, Amur-Sa, strictly quarantining the planet to make sure that neither the Vine that laid their old empire low, nor the fungus that has stolen their homeworld, will ever be able to harm them again.

On Destination, the endless war against the Surikahi invaders seems to finally promise a conclusion. A Godar of great power, coming from the little-known Free Hamme Oswig, has managed to forge unity between the long-disparate Hammes, destroying those who refuse to accept the new order. Running a deadly high stakes game against annihilation, Hamme Oswig managed to force itself into a dominant position, achieving mental unity in a manner far beyond the capacities of the old networks that are now rendered almost-unworkable by the interference of the invaders. With significant forces acting together for the first time in the planet’s Ysir history, Godar Helgi has managed to leverage this power against the remaining survivors on the planet, offering them a choice between extinction and empire.

With the formidable forces of the Hammes of Destination now united, a planetary counteroffensive could at last be mounted. This grand campaign was greatly boosted by a wide range of hidden superweapons which had previously been held in secret by a great many of the Ysir Hammes. Should things continue as they are, it is likely that the Surikahi will be purged within the next 10 cycles.

The All of Shee-Wheire has opted to maintain its quiet observation of its neighbours, particularly the Migrant Hammenammir, who continue to press coreward. Shu-Ghoo explorers have detected a tiny, hydrocarbon-rich planet drifting without a sun in the vicinity of Shee-Wheire, titling it PLBW (Potentially Life-Bearing World)-00093. Other explorers, beginning to push out of their normal sphere of influence, have found a dead, heavily-irradiated world bearing distinct signs of former civilization charting it as PLBW-00089. Both discoveries have triggered a great deal of interest amongst the population, many of whom still feel quite overstimulated by the passing Ysir migration.

The Karak Exodus struggles on, doing what it can to continue procuring sacrifices for Kukulza. Running short on Zan drones on their own planet, the struggling inhabitants of Exodus begin to consider the fact that they may soon need to begin traveling offworld to gather suitable offerings. Some Karak take a more long-term view of things, noting that if they are able to get off of their horrible desert planet, then they might as well continue the search for Ath’nator, their species’ fabled destination world.

Nearby, a tiny, biomechanical horde is writhing with silent activity in deep space, as strange new forms begin take shape in the dark clouds of the Many.

The Fehan Fleet remains ever-vigilant against further Surikahi incursions. Two large asteroids bearing the spores of infection was annihilated shortly before they struck Sathan, and the fleet’s marines, along with their Sathi allies, quickly exterminated the few Surikahi who managed to emerge from the surviving fragments intact. In deep space, a similar asteroid was intercepted on a direct course for Helan, and utterly obliterated. Decades of experience with these interstellar locusts has allowed the Fehan to develop extremely effective techniques to predict the course of, intercept and destroy these asteroid-spores before they can even come close to their planets. Strict surveillance across Fehan Space leads the Fleet to conclude that the possibility of another Surikahi invasion hitting their forces blind is next to impossible.

Technologically, the Fehan have been surging forward as of late. Scientists, often working in the employ of the largely meritocratic Fleet (rather than the moribund and highly-regimented nations of Helan), have continued pushing forward the frontiers of knowledge, leading to rapid improvements in fleet armaments, energy generation and superluminal travel. The latest fad has been investigating the possibilities of gathering humongous amounts of energy from theoretical dimensions contained within point particles in our own plane.

While the coreward scouts have still sent no further transmissions, and are assumed lost, Fehan exploration of rimward space continues. Fehan vessels looked on as the Chorn made their momentous first ascent into outer space. Whether this is sheer coincidence, or the Chorn simply taking inspiration from the space vessel looking on from their orbit, remains a mystery to the Fehan. At any rate, by the time the scouts departed the Chorn were already beginning to construct a large orbital structure of some sort. Such rapid technological progression was noted with interest and mild concern.

Nearby, the Poy-Op have continued to expand their small civilization throughout the stars, indulging in their planetscaping as much as they could feasibly afford to do so. The vast, dense cloud of rocky planets constructed in their home system is truly a sight to behold, something previously unseen by even the more advanced species of known space. Outside of these domestic affairs, the Poy-Op have continued to maintain a friendly relation with their neighbours, the Meli-Telanoch Exiles, who have finally begun to settle down on a new planet, if only to build up the forces needed to reclaim their homeworld. Just beyond Meli-Telanoch space, however, the Samaynoch Highclans are expanding rapidly spinwards, seizing a new colony world, which they have christened ‘Paradil’. It is seeming increasingly likely that the Exile Clans will not be returning to their homeworld for a very long time.

The Vycan Mejani watch the events of the Kadanoff Civil War with some concern, maintaining a great deal of their attention on affairs happening outside of their system. Perhaps, were they monitoring their sister worlds closely, they would notice something beginning to stir on Vyta, the world which launched the devastating attacks which led to the near-extermination of the Lyran and Kyan Mejani, and eventually the Vytans themselves. The Fehan Fleet, apparently satisfied that the Mejani situation has stabilized, has begun to back away from its plans at intervention, instead moving forces towards the Kadanoff.

Without a doubt, the Kadanoff Civil War is the greatest disturbance to hit its region of space in centuries. Battles rage across a broad plane of space, as the psionic power of the Rachem Ascendancy strives to overthrow the geno-industrial juggernaut of the Kadanoff Unity. Fighting has concentrated around Rachem’s base of operations in Coeptru, and around the Kadanoff fortress-world of Barum. Initial threats to the Kadanoff core worlds of Ka and Sapro have been deflected by strong counterattacks, allowing the Unity to apply pressure towards Coeptru. Fighting here remains locked in costly stalemate. Meanwhile, around Barum, the Ascendancy has made strong use of its local fleet advantage, launching a full-scale invasion of the planet. Here, Rachem’s forces have shown no quarter, revealing a callous willingness to slaughter military and civilian Kadanoff alike, viewing themselves as the genetic destiny of the species and all others as dead-end lineages. Even the Unity’s greatest engineered warriors have been hard pressed to stand against the Ascendants in an even fight, due to the formidable psionics of the invaders. Thanks to this, and near-constant bombardment from the three Rachemite warships in orbit, Kadanoff presence on the planet has been decimated, reduced to a few negligible holdouts.

Rimwards of the Ascendancy, a lone Kadanoff exploration vessel has established a base behind enemy lines on the world of Tarn, hoping that the automated installation of industrial facilities across the planet will happen fast enough to begin producing ships for the war effort before Rachem takes notice.

Map

No one can mistake fire for sunlight. But both were burning.

The city had died a long while ago; only its corpse was left, to be quibbled over as though the disputants were scavengers of the nearby jungles. Real corpses littered the ground, too, spent shells, skins the color of harsh abrasions, tails leaking blood, mucus leaking from their sextuple lungs. War machines had traipsed through here mere hours before, and almost nothing moved.

In a corner, an infant warbled. Her mother had died with the attack, her body atomized, and the infant wandered around in confusion, trying to find something to latch onto. With the setting sun, the air was cooling rapidly, and the baby was cold, and hungry, and likely to be dead before morning.

Enter the hero, stage left. She was small, by Fehan standards, and hardly anything impressive to look at. She carried no gun, and looked utterly out of place in this glorified crater – like some sort of guardian angel. So much so that when she leaned down to inspect the little infant, the child climbed onto her snout, whistling happily as the hair wrapped around the little one softly, ensconcing it in a bizarre little pouch.

And then they were off, continuing through the wreckage, the infant watching the world as it walked by , surveying the wreckage with wide, curious eyes. Partly dismantled superstructure leaned threateningly over their path, but the hero paid it no mind as she walked beneath its shadow. The infant cuddled even closer to her snout now, reveling in the warmth as the chill of evening started to settle around them.

“Another one?”

“Don't tell me you're surprised. I don't think Letihihi sent out a memo before they bombed the place.” The hero's snout tensed. “It's barbaric.”

“Yeah. Remember where you picked her up?”

“She was in the streets. That's about the size of it. No mother, family, nothing around – well... a few corpses, but I don't know that they were related. No chip, either. Family probably hadn't gotten around to tagging her yet.” Or they had been too poor to tag her. She left that possibility unsaid.

“Dump her with the others, then.”

“I think she's rather attached, to be honest.” Her eyes crossed as she looked at the infant clutching at her snout. “Literally speaking.”

“Well, whenever she falls aslee –”

“I do know the protocol. Please don't patronize me.”

“Okay. Anything else of note?”

“Only that the sooner we get off this planet, the happier I'll be.” That was a depressing thought – the only thing she wanted was to leave her people's homeworld.

Almost as though the other Fehan was reading her mind, she started to say, “Helan. What depths we've sunk to...”

“Don't pin this catastrophe on our whole race.” The planet had been pretty, once. Indeed, parts of it still were – mostly the parts outside the cities. What had been poverty-ridden, nepotistic little enclaves of old-style Fehan rule had been hit rather hard by the civil war – a conflict that, thankfully, seemed to be in its latter stages.

If only because the Fleet had started to step in.

“I know that Fehan are capable of better... and worse, of course. But the fact that people still live – and die – like this... How can they still be –?”

“I know.”

Even the Fleet, an organization predicated on the belief that things could and should be made better, was hardly flawless. Sathan and Katifa still held silent witness to that fact.

“I think the infant is asleep.”

The hero gently disentangled the little Fehan from its snout, and laid it with a whole pack of sisters of no blood relation.




Part 2

I'm going to be uploading some more of my sketches to show a few of the various species of GalaxyNES. This evening, we have a design for the Kadanoff that I sketched up while I was in Iceland. Given very little physical description, there was a lot of room to go wild with this design... which is probably how I ended up with a bony-fingered millipede hanging from a lighter-than-air sac as the design for the 'core' Kadanoff species.