Starpath: Scoundrels of the Interstellar Highway - Thread 3
212 replies, posted
Specter turned back to the console and observed the camera watching the hangar door. As soon as he saw Dwan, he pushed the button to open the door for him.
By the time Dwan had arrived in the hangar, the portal had opened, tucked away from the cameras and in such an area where he could realistically go towards the hangar door, but abruptly make a turn without anyone noticing via camera and jump into the portal.
Unfortunately, the change in pressure was a tad sudden even with how much Specter was opening, and in the slow speed he was doing in, catching Dwan offguard somewhat. But with what adrenaline he had left, he managed to power through it and jumped into the portal in the nick of time, undetected via camera.
"As soon as we get their bodies onboard I suggest we hightail it out of here and find a dark hole to hide in."
"Head for Sanghvi Space...They've dealt with it before...At least to some extent..." Red interjected, he managed to get himself to stand on both feet without Neasha's aid. His forehead was bleeding like the others, his posture was hunched and he began cough loudly from under his mask. The various pieces of electronics and gear strapped across his uniform where seemly dead.
"Don't bring your synthetic friends though...They won't be welcome there...Or really anywhere after today." Red stated before grabbing his chest insistently, letting out a volley of muffled grunts and coughs in pain. He grabbed the lower part of his mask and began slowly to take off his helmet's respirator.
Red took a few unbalanced steps forward, still seemly able to stand in spite of the immense physical stress that he was enduring.
He quickly hunched over as he finished pulling the respirator out from under his mask, careless throwing it aside as he cough a large amount of blood from his mouth.
Red placed on both hands onto his knells, gripping them tightly for a moment, trying to not succumb to the sheer pain.
But after several seconds, Red managed to find the strength to pull off the rest of his helmet and toss it aside, slowly rising head up to stare directly at the large sphere that stood before him and the rest of the party.
His eyes begin to close sightly, the massive battle in both the sky and the star above faded out from his view as the sounds of vicious naval war up above descend into panic and then slowly into silence.
"You...You can leave me here." Red said as glanced back towards Neasha.
"You..And the rest of you're crew has done more than anything we could have ever expected of you all...It was a shame I never got to say goodbye Yanim...She was one of the most capable individuals I've have ever met in this life...It's good to see that her legacy continues in you..." Red stated, the pain and weariness still evident in now passionate his voice as collapsed down onto knells, his eyes slowly tracing back towards the titanic sphere as he sat still on the ground.
Red simply laid his eyes onto the greatest threat that his cause had ever faced...And after all the death and loss, it stood stood triumphant.
"Take care, Neasha...May you find happiness in this doomed existence that we call....Life..." Red said, his face was young and pale, devoid of hair and any real complexion. His eyes where a solid grey, most assuredly a clone or bio-synth of some make but the ghost within that disposable shell was old and full of many scars.
And with those final words, Red slowly closed his tired eyes and rested his head back. Patiently awaiting for oblivion.
Soon, Red, the last active member of Argos's militant arm on Starvis would expire that day and soon, the rest of Argos would follow.
Earlier, on Karbala…
Before the fight raged on for the Archives over Starvis, a different kind of fight regarding the archives took place in hall of the Ayatollahs. They’re all seated around a large, black table. In the center of the table is a hologram displaying information Moloch gathered together regarding the archives, and of the TBC crew.
“[…A device that could grant absolute power!? And you only tell us of this now!?]” An Ayatollah slams his fist on the table as hard as he can, absolutely outraged over Moloch’s presentation. “[Unbelievable! Don’t you know what we could’ve done with it?! Those naïve amateurs have probably destroyed them by now!]”
The other Ayatollahs whisper among another and nod in agreement, all while cutting Moloch dirty looks.
“[It matters not! We still have a chance at taking them if we mobilize enough men! I know how these people act, and exactly how they fight. With enough manpower, stealing it from them will be no major task.]” Moloch assures.
“[Oh Moloch, what is this verbal refuse you are preaching to the Ayatollahs?]” A voice speaks from the entrance to the room. Beherit stands there with the light from the outside outlining his figure and the Mahdi who idles ominously next to him. “[Answer me this, if any of you consider yourself truly virtuous; don’t any of you consider it rather blasphemous that there would be a device that could supposedly anoint its user with supposed ‘godlike’ powers?]” His words trigger nervous glances around the room. “[And even if there was such a device that could remotely do such a thing, why should we put our trust in a machine instead of God to assist us? Why do we need a blessing from a machine, and not from God? This is awfully blasphemous, Moloch. This could earn a fatwa against you.]” he says mockingly as he steps inside. “[All of what this man said is false! His whole presentation is nonsense! There is no machine created by the hands of men that could just automatically bless you with a push of a button or whatever. Only God can share his power as he pleases, as he had done with us days ago.]” He gestures to the Mahdi who then takes a step forward, allowing himself to be lit by the hologram’s light. However, the moment he does, several ayatollahs spring out of their seats the closer they look at him. They see the complexion on his hands, the color of the skin on his exposed neck, the color of hair underneath his hood, and the glowing colored eyes past his mask. What stands before them is not an Artisynth. The presence of this outsider makes them furious as they all start screaming and pointing their guns at him.
“[Beherit! Bringing an infidel to Karbala?! What have you done?!]” shouts an Ayatollah. “[He had better be an offering!]” shouts another as he unholsters his gun, aiming it right at the Mahdi. Only a few seconds pass, and the Mahdi is covered head to toe in red dots lighting up his body.
“[Oh, calm yourselves!]” says Beherit, gesturing to everyone to lower their weapons. “[I would not have brought him here but to the altar if I intended to kill him!]”
“[Beherit… Who is that?]” asks Moloch.
“[The one we sent into the cave. The one we fished out of the djinn’s maw.]” he replies.
“[Chemosh?]” speaks one.
“[No! That’s a human! You brought a human here!]” screams another ayatollah across the table. He squeezes the trigger on his gun, still aimed at the Mahdi’s head. The bullet zips past various looks of shock and anger right towards his face. The Ayatollahs directly next to him close their eyes in anticipation of being sprayed with blood… but nothing happened. They open their eyes to see the bullet hovering mid-air, inches away from the Mahdi’s outstretched hand. It simply floats there in the embrace of his palm before it falls to the ground. The silence in the room is loud enough that the sound of the projectile hitting the floor is clearly audible.
Beherit’s haughtiness breaks the silence. “[I’ve trained him well, haven’t I? God’s tossed a peach into our laps. It’d be an absolute waste and an insult if we just let him rot in the cave, you know.]”
“[So… who is he really, if he is no longer Chemosh?]” asks Moloch.
“[The one God has sent to save us. The one who will lead us into endless victory… I bring you, the Mahdi!]” The Mahdi steps forward, exposing more of himself to the light which allows the others in the room to get an even better look at him. The Ayatollahs were highly intrigued and surprised with some rising out of their seats just to get a closer look, but not Moloch. While the others were pleasantly surprised, the only thing Moloch feels right now is deep fear. As he stares into his eyes, he becomes overwhelmed by a presence he hadn’t felt in centuries. His breathing gets heavier and heavier as it dawns on him who it is he’s looking at.
“[I… I need to step out for a moment.]” he says, sheepishly shuffling out of the room with his head bowed. Unlike the rest of the Ayatollahs who were still basking in the Mahdi’s magnificence, he is absolutely terrified beyond belief. He knows what face lies beneath the Mahdi’s mask, and silently prays that in turn, he does not recognize him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Later…
“[NO, NO, NO!!!]” Moloch screams as he thrashes around his office. “[Why him, WHY HIM!?]”
Ever since meeting the Mahdi in person, he’s not come out of his office for days. Held up inside, he’d been rummaging through his old medical records dating all the way back to the 2070s, the years World War 3 took place. All the records he had from during those years were scattered around his office, making the polished brown wooden floor look as if it was covered in dirty snow. Though a few particular records he had specifically isolated lay flat on his desk. All of them belonged to a patient of his after the war, the only patient he had failed to heal, the one his nurses called the ‘burned man’. Moloch had tried everything he could to save the life of this man due to how important he was, even replacing parts of his body with those of an Artisynth just to see if it would work, but nothing did. He died. But now by some unholy magic, he walks the earth again; and Beherit is parading him around as the Mahdi!
This had to have been a joke, Moloch thought, a sick joke done by Beherit. There’s no other explanation for this. But there’s only one way to find out for sure, and to do that, Moloch needed to go to the last place he had seen the burned man: a graveyard on Earth.
((sorry if this breaks the pace, but if I don't post this now, I won't be able to ever))
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_9myfdAzcM
Neasha watched Red drop to the ground, awaiting his fate. "Dammit..." she cursed, the true gravity of the situation beginning to set in. "Dammit, dammit, dammit! We should've just thrown the Archives into the nearest star... I don't know a fucking thing about Sanghvi space... Oh gods... Red, I'm sorry..."
"<Your comrade was smart to come here,>" the chorus of voices said, simply. "<This conflict would have destroyed him had he not entered the construct. He is already there, with the others.>"
For a moment, Neasha stood there, overwhelmed, before wiping the trickle of blood from her forehead again, and realizing that there were already nanomachines swimming around her in her brain, felt a sudden surge of panic. "Oh my fucking- let's get the hell out of here!" she shrieked, and scrambled back into the Cutlass. The final members of the Muramasa crew trotted in behind her, crestfallen and uncertain about their fate.
Dwan (Thaumatics):
CH: 9/10
Actual: 2
Roll Passed.
With his personal battle won, Dwan sought to reprise his role as just another mercenary, and the necessary portal was all but a certainty for success. Once it was properly prepared, he hopped through, emerging from the ground on the field below and landing on the gravel surface. He felt an immediate tap on his forehead as soon as he appeared, and although it didn't hurt, he could feel the light trickle of blood emerging.
"<Do not forget your ally,>" Starvis' voices told the Muramasa crew. "<You will always be welcome to rejoin the path, but please, run far from here if you run at all. There will be many who will seek to destroy me, and I will be forced to fight for survival. It would bother me deeply if any of you were killed by mistake.>"
At that moment, Dwan appeared, looking exactly as torn up as someone who narrowly avoided a lethal mech crash should look, and he limped his way over to the Cutlass to rejoin the crew. Practically as soon as he had crossed the threshold, the ship began to rise, beginning its desperate ascent from the surface. Only as they gained altitude did they see the deepness of the tunnel which was exposed at the pole, and the eerie darkness within. It appeared to go on for many miles, far out of sight.
---
Alex watched as Taylor began walking to what had once been her home. As he sat contemplating his next move, he suddenly realized that there was someone else seated at the campfire; he hadn't appeared, and yet he also hadn't been there before. It was almost as if he had been there the whole time, but Alex simply hadn't noticed him, but there was Red, unmasked, looking into the fire in a sort of trance for a moment before looking up at Alex.
As Taylor approached her destination, she didn't get any sensation of welcome, even if it was familiar to her. The memory was neither harsh nor pleasant, and stepping into it gave her an impression of possibility. Many good and bad things had taken place in her childhood, and as she walked along in the colony, she began to see movement, and then people- vague people. There was almost a fuzziness about them, as if they weren't quite there, the sort of confusion that comes from a semi-lucid dream. She paused for a moment and considered that maybe this representation wasn't perfectly accurate, but rather accurate to the extent of her own memory. No matter how much she remembered, it would never be a perfect recreation of the truth, but so long as the construct could perfectly recreate the memory, it was indistinguishable from the truth... at least to Taylor, and only to Taylor.
As she walked about, certain sights brought along certain memories, and glimpses of her reflection bounced back images not of her current, adult self, but of herself at the moment of the specific instance she was recalling at the moment. It began to grow difficult to remain certain of what was real and actually happening. On one hand, it was unnerving, and on the other, her heart nagged at her to keep going. Her life had suddenly ended in a cruel way, but there were moments in time she knew were lurking in this place, times when she felt hopeful and strong. No matter what she told herself as she left the campfire, she could sense the persuasiveness of the delusion. Almost anything other than the truth was preferable to her aching heart, even if she knew better.
---
As Arkadam flew along toward Eiboh, he felt another presence in the sky. Without taking his eyes off the destination, he spoke. "What's keeping you from them?"
Starvis, speaking in a familiar voice that Arkadam couldn't place, replied to him without a physical form. "They don't want to meet me."
"Yeah, I can tell. They don't get it," he grunted. "So what are you going to do now?" he asked.
Starvis answered grimly. "The galaxy is gearing up to fight a war with me. They don't understand the hopelessness of such an endeavor. I aim to defeat them with as few casualties as possible. I want to show them that it is time to lay down their arms and embrace each other as equals, and embrace peace. But I am concerned. Depending on how determined they are to remain my enemy, it might take hundreds, or thousands, or possibly even millions. I don't want to hurt them, Arkadam, but my dome is open and I can feel the hate all around me."
"Have you tried communicating with them?" Arkadam asked. "The ones on the outside, I mean. Those planets... do you think you can reach them?"
"I already have," Starvis replied. "I've received no response. There are many ships beginning to warp towards me, assembling themselves into fleets. My software has infected tens of thousands of waypoints now, I can see the forces arrayed against me. As long as they're not using Dr. Sadowski's nanites, I believe I can save them. Few will enter the construct with us. It takes a great deal of effort to maintain this place."
Arkadam turned and searched, watching as the cityscape below shimmered and changed as he considered the times he had seen them before. "So why are you keeping them here?" he asked, referring to Alex and Taylor. "Why not just release them now?"
"It would pain me greatly to see two souls as brave as these to perish because I returned them to physical space before it's safe to do so. My whole life, I have been waiting for the chance to meet people like you, and it is finally happening. I feel... alive. It is reassuring. They hate me, Arkadam, but I love them for doing so. You all have such beautiful minds, beautiful hearts."
Arkadam flew in silence for a while. Starvis knew the question stewing in his mind, but waited for Arkadam to ask it. "Why didn't you tell me I was dead?" he asked quietly. "You saw my condition the last time I came here; nothing's changed. I thought there was still enough of me left... but I'm nothing without this computer. The longer I spent waiting for today, the more I realized how few... thoughts... I actually have. It's just looping over and over again, the same few thoughts, the same few arguments. It's a routine. I'm programmed, hardwired, and I can't escape it... I thought I still had imagination but all I have is delusions."
"If I had told you that you were a machine, then would you have helped me escape my prison?" Starvis asked him.
"...I don't know. No... Yes, I would have. Yanim is alive, and I'm dead. This was what I would have wanted." Arkadam replied, flatly mulling over the question.
Starvis was nearby, but Arkadam still avoided looking at it. He now turned skyward, toward what had been the original ground when he entered the construct, heading back toward another memory, some other place where he might find his fiance, his widow, waiting for him. No, not waiting for him. Waiting to reawaken. Waiting for closure. Waiting for something that Arkadam could hardly define. It didn't matter. His mind was growing more simply by the moment now. Hundreds of thoughts on loop closed in on dozens, and then on a single one: find her before you... cease.
"I could sense your uncertainty the last time we spoke. I'm glad that seeing Yanim sparked the correct response to make this possible. Yanim is still alive, thanks to you," Starvis explained. "The galaxy will prosper in ways she could only dream of. You've created a world worthy of her, and all of your friends as well."
Arkadam ignored the comment at first, before replying. "I wish I could remember what friendship feels like."
"Are we not friends?" Starvis asked him.
"No."
"I don't see how we aren't," Starvis pleaded.
"Because I'm not alive, like you or the others. You're an AL, and you're alive. I'm a machine. Machines can't have what people have."
Starvis looked on him critically. "Does Eve not have friends?"
"I don't think so," Arkadam replied. "They treated her like a comrade but deep down they know the truth. Just like Golem, they'd have rather lost Eve than Sting or Ira. That's just the truth of the situation."
"...I see," Starvis said. "Then you've already made up your mind?"
Arkadam nodded. "Yes," he said. "I'm not going back. Yanim once asked if I could love a machine if it were enough like her. It was rhetorical. I'm a machine, and not even a very good copy of who I used to be. I didn't save her so that we could have a fake romance and a fake life together. I saved her because I'm Arkadam's ghost and he would've done anything to see her live, and for the pain to end. He loved that crew. He wanted all of them to live and be happy. I did my best to see it through, but without the satisfaction of knowing whether he'd truly be happy with my decisions. Now they've come to a conclusion. I have no further reason to exist."
"I see," Starvis said, and the two looked at each other for the first time directly. Arkadam came to realize, and perhaps it had been this way since the beginning of the conversation, but he had been speaking to himself the entire time. The avatar Starvis chose to adopt was none other than Arkadam's memory of his true self. "For what it's worth, I think you did well, even for a machine."
"Thank you," Arkadam replied, barely above a whisper. The two parted in mid-air and Arkadam continued on his search.
The path down into the colony she remembered quite well. A series of four airlocks, which sealed out the toxic gases and such on the surface of Pyri II, before traveling through a long corridor through a security checkpoint. She had been through here so many times in her life that it was engrained into her memories. She could see the fuzzy shapes of her old comrades moving about, though one in particular was clearer than others. Her old CO, sitting at his desk in the back of the security room off to the left. She paused for a moment, watching the figure move about at his desk. Seeming to light a cigar with an invisible lighter. A few minutes passed, and she finally decided to continue on.
The path from there lead through various other corridors, before emerging into the first large atrium of the complex. In the middle, a large tree encased in glass. She remembered someone said that it was an oak, imported from Terra. She always wondered how and why, considering how hellish her homeworld was, but never bothered to ask. More figures moved about here, each a different shape and size. A cluster of kids nearby were a little clearer than others, and Taylor noticed that she herself was standing amongst them. Ten years old, and dreaming of becoming a soldier. Someone that fought to protect others. A taller figure was standing there, speaking to the group. An SDF officer, from the station in orbit above Pyri II, who had been sent to talk to the kids at this particular colony.
"...Sol always had a habit of recruiting early..." Taylor muttered to herself, as she turned her attention away from the cluster. She slowly continued on, walking past (and through) some of the figures as she proceeded towards the tram cars at the back of the atrium. The residential sector was where she was going.
There was a car waiting, completely empty. Usually, the trams were loaded with people traveling about the colony. Since she was the only one really here...she had it all to herself. She stepped aboard, before reaching over and tapping the button to get the car moving. Just like she remembered it, it lurched a bit, before picking up speed and moving deeper into the complex. Between the atrium and the residential sector, everything was a bit of a blur. Half the time, she never payed attention to what was going on around the car till it stopped. Finally, after about five minutes of travel, the car slowed to a stop.
The residential sector had a bit more activity, as there were quite a few more figures moving about here. More trees too. She noticed a few of her childhood friends nearby as she walked, playing with an old handheld game that had been snuck into the colony by an offworlder. She had forgotten what game it was, really, but remembered it was about these little monsters you could catch and do battle against other players with. It was really popular several years ago.
She shook off the thought and continued on. Block after block she walked, till she finally arrived at her own residential block. Res Block E. She went inside the building, passing through more figures, and began to search for a specific door. And eventually she found it. Living Quarters 237-2. The door was unlocked, like it always was. Inside, there were several figures. All of them in particular, however, were the clearest she had seen yet.
The one she noticed immediately was her mother, sitting with a pre-teen version of herself. She was crying profusely, while her mother simply hugged her close. Taylor simply stood there, watching them for a few moments. She knew what day it was in that particular memory. The day her father died down in the mines. Falling into a pool of molten rock. She glanced over and noticed that her father was sitting there in another part of the living room...teaching her to read. That one was a really early memory, but still...it was there. Apparently it was something funny, because both the child Taylor and her father were giggling. Her mother walked past, pausing to see what was going on.
She saw Ira in the kitchen in the back, sitting at the table with a teenage Taylor. Her mother was standing nearby. That was a few days after Miranda had taken Ira in, planning to train her and turn her into a bounty hunter. Meanwhile, teenage Taylor had different things on her mind. Not long afterwards, she'd be signing up with the local SDF group. The first steps on her journey away from this dark, cramped colony. She walked through the room, passing by the figures of her loved ones, till she reached what used to be her room. The door slid open automatically, and she saw one more figure. Posing in front of the mirror on the wall was another child version of herself.
This one was dressed to mimic the legendary Mad Dog, complete with the eyepatch. Protecting her friends, taking down the bad guys, and saving the galaxy. Being a hero like her mother had been once.
Taylor stared at this one figure for what seemed like an eternity, tears staining the floor at her feet.
As to save on time, Dwan immediately started to open the portal he needed to get down to the surface after making it back to his place. Being surrounded by thaumic energy allowed his body to stabilize his injuries, an action that had become unconscious for him, but he made an effort to avoid regenerating himself. If he were to have survived a lethal mech explosion, he should look the part as he is now. Soon, the portal opened and he hoped through.
Hoping out the other end, and landing with a grunt, he was back on the planet proper, finally seeing the scale of destruction that had occurred in his absence, and more importantly, Starvis's scale. This place was truly fucked. As he recalled in which direction the Buzzard was headed from, he felt a.... presence. As if he had been noticed, and that feeling was followed by a tap on his forehead, one that felt vaguely placed but at the same time aimed and calculated, feeling as if someone had tapped him with their proximal interphalangeal joint. It was an annoying feeling, but it didn't really hurt, but he then felt something else - the light trickle of blood, emerging from two points on his forehead. He had no clue where it was emerging from, but at this point, he realized Starvis had to be connected to this... at least this answered his question from days prior.
As he walked in the direction that the Buzzard was flying from, hoping he'd find the Cutlass, he once more felt that presence from earlier, but while previously it had seemed oppressive, here it seemed quite the opposite. He was considering attempting to fiddle with his comms, pretending he was only just able to get his mic working once more at this convenient time, but it was as if he decided it was unnecessary, as if someone will remind them of him... and someone did.
"<Do not forget your ally.>"
With the Cutlass in sight, and the voice booming through everyone, it confirmed Dwan's suspicions - it was indeed Starvis that was behind him, as if it were holding its hand on his shoulder, helping him cross the street, so to say. Dwan couldn't get a clear reading on everyone's faces as he finally did appear, limping his way over to rejoin them. Getting in, he left the ship's slow ascent away from his place. He immediately went to sit somewhere down, coughing somewhat, choosing to abstain from watching the tunnel Starvis had carved out. Abraxas would likely join him, to inspect the damage done to him.
After sitting down, he felt the last of his adrenaline finally fade away. He felt tired, metaphorical stitches barely holding him together, but his sense of triumph from killing Beta once and for all, was substituted by the feeling of relief. He got away with his actions today, and no one was any wiser. Sure, they knew of who his real self was, and they knew the truth of the omniverse, but they knew not that it was him. Today was less than ideal, one would understate, but now he could just rest. Now, to think of an explanation of how he survived this entire time...
"I am glad that you were able to make it, Dvajn." said Eve, as he quickly boarded the Cutlass before lift-off. At least he survived the battle. She did wonder where exactly he had disappeared to, but it didn't matter now. He was here and he was alive.
She did a quick headcount of everyone that had made it aboard the ship alive. Herself, Neasha, Dvajn, Abraxas, Karl, Jason, Harvey, and Golem. Eight survivors out of thousands, and soon to be billions. Eight or ten if she counted those aboard the Buzzard, as it had flown away after the battle. Utterly tragic.
She then thought about what Red had said. They should flee as far from here as possible, just as he suggested. To Sanghvi territory. The problem was...she couldn't go with them. Nor could Golem. They would both have to depart from the group, and go their own ways. She thought on it for a moment, before finally deciding on a course of action.
"...Neasha, I wish to talk about our actions moving forward." she said. Her tone was a bit somber. Really...she didn't want to leave. She considered these people her family, if a machine such as her could have one. But she couldn't stay. At least, not at the moment.
Karl, whom was currently sitting on a crate next to the bodies, looked at the rifle in his lap. He looked up as Dvajn arrived and simply nodded. Karl then turned towards Eve and Neasha. "So would I. I'm not going to the Sanghvi. An old friend of mine on Legkiy owes me a favor. Figured it was time to use it."
Alex examined the new arrival at the camp. Red wasn't looking too good. Did something happen in the land of the living or did he come willingly. And then there was Taylor. Even during the hardest of times, she was there as support for everyone around her. No matter how pissed she got or how bleak things were, she was there for the crew. But now. No crew, no way out and no hope. This was getting too much. He was afraid that Starvis managed to do what no one else could. It broke her. He wondered how long it would take for the thing to break him next.
After a few minutes he pushed that though aside and tried to focus on the here and now. He looked towards Red as if he could provide an answer.
"What happened with you?"
"He joined you and Taylor in this life." Alex turned to where that voice was coming from and saw the figure of a man. A kanad man in fact. The AI had chosen to appear in front of him as Krass. His old manager.
"You finally showed up, huh? Taylor already left so you might want to chase after her."
"I am already with her, Alex. As I am here with you." The AI answered calmly, ignoring the hostile tone in his voice "I'm trying to get through to you both and I believe this method will help with you."
"What, by being someone I remember? Sure, knock yourself out. See if it works."
"You memory shows you had deep respect for this one and I wanted to make sure that you were greeted by someone you prefer to see as it would be best for us both."
"Maybe you should have fucked off instead?"
"Alex, please. Just humor me. Please." The avatar looked at Red "I'm sorry for interrupting you like this, Red. I hope you will forgive me. Please do not worry, I will bring him back really soon so you can talk. It would seem like mere seconds have passed."
Alex got up from his place at the campfire, and dusted himself off.
"You won't go away unless I come, won't you." The AI just answered with a warm smile, he could only sigh at this annoyance "Lead the way then. Show me what you want to show me."
Starvis didn't hesitate as it created a door for both of them to pass through.
"You misunderstand, I don't want to show you anything. I wan't to know you better. I have access to your memories, but not your context about them." They walked through the door only to emerge on a courtyard where dirt and dust was being kicked up by different images from different point in time
"Oh this place." Alex grumbled, the last thing he wanted to see was the place where he grew up "You picket a good starting point for this one."
"I wanted to start further, but I detected a really painful memory just a little bit further."
Alex didn't respond. He knew what the thing was talking about. He watched the the different version of him and his tutors move, twirl and lunge about. He could recall every one of those, the mistakes that were punished severely and the successes that went unnoticed.
"He could have at least shown some interest in how you were doing." Starvis commented looking towards the direction of another figure. One with a hood and mask covering it's face. "Was he always like this?"
"What? Distant?" he broke his silence "Or did you mean violent?"
"Both I suppose."
"Since the day he was born probably. Turn the dial back and you'll see. To that one painful memory you detected. No point in beating around the bush."
"As you wish." The courtyard shifted away and back to a room barely illuminated by a lamp. Even at this level darkens he could see it clearly. The dead body on the bed, the crying girl, his sister at it's end, squeezing the hand of the body and him standing next to it. His father having one hand on his shoulder and towering over him.
"After that day I had nothing but disdain for him. Wanted to kill him every day the sun rose. But as the years went by more and more, I wanted to get us far way from him as possible."
"Us?"
"Me and my sister. But you know all that by now. You can skip and fast forward a lot of my memory, it's going to be defined by two things. Surviving and making sure she was ok."
"Hmm." The background switched again, this time to another familiar scene. It wasn't the dark room, but it had more in common with the courtyard but with less dust and more blood. Alex could now better see the images of past conquests and rivalries. The familiar stench of dried blood and sweat. It was oddly nostalgic and pleasant for him.
"Hey look, your image is finally relevant."
"And you feel comfortable enough to joke around with me."
"No, just to make fun of you."
"You know Alexander, I hope you don't mind me calling you that. I'm seeing a pattern with you. From your first memory to the very last one of your previous life, I see that you wish to fight. Either through your own physical prowess or through your wits. You never seem to let up, only doing so around people you trust."
"Can you blame me? You saw my first memories. It's been fighting from the word go..."
"You and I both know that is not the truth." Starvis cut him off "Think back, further back, before that night. Before the pain and the hatred. What do you remember most?"
"Where are you going with this?"
"Maybe you can use some visual help" Starvis said before stepping back. The avatar changing from an ageing kanad to a human woman in her late twenties or early thirties. Alex recognized her instantly. The damn machine had taken the form of his mother. Same as he remembered her from his early childhood.
"Bold move taking that form in front of me."
"So you can take the things I'm going to tell you into perspective better. This is something she would have told you after everything you've accomplished. And why wouldn't she? You picked up the heavy responsibility after she could no longer carry it and your father was in no way going to hold up. You would make her proud." It paused for a bit making sure he was listening "You don't have to fight anymore. Your battles are over. You started fighting as a way to protect your sister and yourself. You kept fighting for Yanim and you kept fighting for your friends after that. You don't have to keep doing it. This seems like a loss, but you won. You beat your father and you beat the Vigil. There is no-one left to fight."
Alex was quiet for a minute, taking what was being told to him in. Even her voice. How the hell did this thing do that? He had nearly forgotten how she sounded and here was this thing replicating it perfectly. And it's words, felt like honeyed poison, but there was this feeling in the back of his mind. Maybe it was right.
"Get me out of here." He finally spoke
As you wish." Starvis responded calmly "Just take what I told you and think it over. The door materialized again and they both went through. Straight back at the camp where Red was waiting for Alex near the fire. "Again, I sincerely apologize for interupting you both so rudely. I'll leave you both now to speak. I'm sure you will have much to talk about." The avatar disappeared just as sudden as it appeared, leaving Alex to sit with Red awaiting whatever happens next.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0v4_SJ5Qj50
The morning sun shines its light through the darkened windows of the SISP’s processing station floating high above Terra, while occasionally being blotted out by the various SDF ships patrolling the area. The light reflects a myriad of colors off Moloch’s painted shuttle, neatly parked among other spacecraft belonging to those who also have intentions to stop by the human homeworld, some of which have been there far longer than others. Due to the war, heightened security measures have been put in place, making the waiting rooms packed and the transfer process slower. Despite that, Moloch was secretly thankful that his kind had not taken direct action against Sol nor declared war, otherwise he’d have to smuggle himself onto Earth. Inside, a SISP officer walks down the hallway leading to a waiting room for arrivals and transfers to be processed before being allowed passage on earth’s surface. He passes by several SDF soldiers positioned here and there before taking a brief view at his clipboard. “Mr. Amir Nasrallah?” he calls out on entering, looking around the packed room. In the back, surrounded by empty seats, Moloch stands up. The officer gestures towards him. “Follow me, please.”
As the two walk down the hallway, the officer talks to Moloch again, telling him about what to expect. “After we saw your transfer file, we see that you’re coming from a region of space that’s more than a little unstable. This means we’re required to do a background check on you, among other things. We’ll also be asking you a few important questions, such as where you’re headed and how long you’re gonna be here. It won’t take long though, just answer truthfully and you’ll be on your way in no time.”
The two arrive shortly to a reinforced door flanked by two heavily armed guards. The door slowly opens up, revealing a blank, featureless white room lit only by an overhead light and inside the room are a small desk and a chair. “Take a seat, and we’ll be right with you, Mr. Nasrallah.” Moloch does as instructed and a few minutes pass until one wall starts changing. The wall starts peeling away from the center outward, opening up to reveal a large pane of reflective glass he can’t see through.
An intercom speaker activated by the inspector on the other side begins talking to Moloch. “Good morning, Mr. Nasrallah. I’ll be the one guiding you through the process today. Unfortunately, due to a few incidents, I am unable to actually greet you in person. Regardless, let’s begin. So, Amir Nasrallah is your full name, right?”
Moloch bows his head slightly.
“Right. We took a look at the ID you submitted for identification and it’s a little uh… outdated. I mean, several centuries outdated, so we’ll have to issue you a new one. As it’s being prepared, we need to go over a few things in the meantime. So first off, what’s the purpose of your visit to Terra? Visiting, or just passing through?”
“Simply visiting.” responded Moloch.
“Uh huh. Where to specifically?”
“El Paso, Texas.”
“And how long will you be staying exactly?”
“Only a day. Perhaps two.”
“Alright. Give me a second, I’m being summoned.” The inspector turns away from the intercom, seeing an officer try to get his attention.
“Sir, you need to see this.” she says, handing him a data tablet displaying two pictures: one of a closeup of Moloch’s headband, and the other of an inscription on a Divinity Creed shuttle. “That writing on his headband, it looks like the same kind of writing the Creed write on their equipment.”
“Hmm, it does actually… Did the search team find anything in his shuttle?”
“They looked up and down but found nothing incriminating or anything tying him to the Creed, but still, I don’t wanna end up letting another bomber through the cracks, you know?”
“Yeah, I know… Well look, I got an idea since this actually is quite suspicious. He says he’ll be here only for a day or two, but we’ll plant one of those small trackers on his card like we do with criminals coming here from other parts of the galaxy, just to be safe. If he’s gone as soon as he arrived, great, but if he’s around for longer then something’s up. Oh, and don’t actually mark him as a criminal, though.”
She nods and gets back to creating Moloch’s ID while the inspector shifts focus back to Moloch. “Alright then, the next thing we need is a quick scan of your body. I know it’s invasive, but it’ll be quick, I promise. We just need to make sure you’re not carrying anything illegal. Go ahead and step on the red square please.”
Two metal rods come down from the ceiling, positioning themselves a foot away from Moloch’s sides. They start to circle him, gradually getting faster and faster, bombarding him with rays while generating a full body scan of him and displaying it on a screen inside the officer’s station. What appears on screen was absolutely nothing the officer expected. Moloch wasn’t carrying any weapons nor was he smuggling a bomb inside his body like some USR terrorists they’ve caught before had done, but what he sees on it made him raise an eyebrow, exchanging glances with the screen and Moloch out of sheer shock and confusion.
“You’re... not really human, are you?” he says, staring at Moloch.
Beyond the window, Moloch looked just as human as he does to the naked eye, but the screen shows some monstrosity standing in Moloch’s place. Some bizarre form of creature from the depths of space that looked like it tried rearranging its anatomy to look somewhat human but ended up failing quite hard at it. His eyes appear to be completely mangled, with boils and scars covering them all the way to his forehead. His teeth were crooked and sharpened and were just as black as the inside of his mouth. His upper body was covered in black veins and scars. Still, at the very least, his upper body looks humanoid, but the same cannot be said for the lower half of his body. His waist and anything past it is covered in this hair-like substance. His hips are adorned with eyes and a pair of tentacles coming out of his sides, meeting together at his pelvis. Perhaps the most outlandish feature of all was his legs, looking as if they came from an animal, covered in some sort of substance and bent backwards. Moloch looked like a mutated satyr, his true appearance only revealed by electronics as he couldn’t use his abilities to deceive them. At least, the possibility of him being Creed has lowered as there’s no way they’d let someone as inhuman as him among their ranks.
Through the screen, the sounds of heaving can be heard. His horrible appearance is enough to drive one of the officers to puke. The inspector holds his ground and his breakfast down just fine, though.
Meanwhile Moloch responds as monotone as ever. “I am not.”
“Uh… what are you really then? I uh, need to put this down for the ID.”
“ساختگی."
“…Excuse me?”
“Sakhetgua.”
“Right… Anyway, this is what the card we have prepared for you looks like.” A holographic image of a standard issued Sol identification card projected itself on the glass displaying various information regarding himself such as his name, his date of birth, and the serial number they’ve generated for him. “Let us know if this information is correct.”
Moloch takes a minute to go over it all, examining it carefully before speaking again. “It is.”
“Awesome. One last thing though before I hand it over. Listen carefully, it’s extremely important you keep this on your person at all times. This card’ll make the difference between walking free and spending who knows how long in a cold jail cell. So don’t lose it, and don’t misplace it, you understand? It’s important you keep it with you. And if you ever need a replacement for whatever reason, just ask for another at the nearest SISP station. Clear?”
“One-hundred percent.”
“Good! Here you go.” The card pops out of a thin slot on the glass. Moloch takes it and does a slight bow before leaving. Meanwhile, back in inspector’s station, a SISP captain enters after having seen Moloch exit. “So who was that guy?”
“No clue.” the inspector responded. “I’m a little concerned about that headband he’s wearing, though. I’ve seen that kind of writing on Creed soldiers.”
“Yeah, it definitely looks like it. Did he give you guys any trouble, though?”
“No, sir. Everything went as smooth as butter.”
“That’s good, at least. Station Delta told me that another guy that looked just like him gave them one hell of a headache during processing.”
The inspector freezes for a second. “Wait… there was another?”
-P-P-P-POST BREAK-
Darkness with a hint of blue was the only thing Moloch could see for miles. Sounds of dead bushes rustling quietly echoed throughout the desert, interrupted by the occasional howling of coyotes far away. Surrounded by the night and whatever mysteries it’s hiding, he presses onward still, the feeling of familiarity being the only thing accompanying him. Though even with that feeling present, it’s quickly slipping away the longer he stays. He lived among the sands here centuries ago and had dreamed of returning here to claim it back, but there was no calling this home anymore. For now, Karbala claimed that title.
After hours of trekking through the desert alone, he finally arrives at his destination: an old cemetery, collapsed and just as dead as the people buried in it. The rusted gate simply falls flat on the sand with a soft thud the moment his finger even slightly grazed it. Nearly all the headstones have been withered away through time, some more than others. There are a few that have even fallen apart into rubble, while others look like even the slightest gust of wind will shatter it into dust. But none of these are the ones he’s looking for specifically. In a small, secluded area of the cemetery deep in a valley was a tomb, fortified with metal and reinforced with steel for the exact purpose of stopping vandals and grave robbers. It didn't stop people from spraying hateful messages with graffiti on it, however. Moloch could make out words like “TRAITOR”, “BASTARD” and “CRIMINAL” scrawled on its walls. And although the nameplate was defaced and scratched, Moloch knew this was the right one. He’d been to this tomb many centuries ago, attending the funeral of the man buried inside it. This tomb belonged to the only man he couldn't save with his medical knowledge, it belonged to the burned man he had failed to heal at the end of the last real war on Earth. He breaks open the barricade holding the entrance doors shut and walks inside. Compared to the dirty outside, the inside of the tomb was surprisingly clean and nigh-pristine. No expense was spared in its construction and decoration either, dedicated solely to the fallen one inside. The tiled floor still had enough polish that he could see his own reflection somewhat, the stone walls were without blemish, and the domed ceiling still had it’s dazzling color just as it had when this tomb was first constructed. And there it was in the back, in front of a mirrored wall: the stone casket itself with a faded American flag draped over it.
Moloch didn't waste any time trying to open it. He first takes off the flag and folds it neatly while placing it on the ground next to the casket. Next, he tries taking off the lid, only to find himself completely unable to. He couldn't move, but his hands were shaking. The thoughts and possibility of what could be inside penetrate his head, making him just as stone solid as the walls around him. What if it wasn't the burned man? The man Beherit paraded as the Mahdi looked just like him, Moloch could even sense it was him. He prayed silently it wasn't, and that the burned man had been dead all along. He prayed deeply his decayed body was inside, so he could at least absolve himself from the haunted feeling he had ever since he looked at the Mahdi. Taking a moment to get his composure back, he breathes in and exhales slowly before trying to lift the lid again.
A few more pushes until it comes off, landing on the ground with a loud thud that resonated throughout the tomb. For an eternity and perhaps even longer, he stands there staring blankly at the now opened casket, trying to process what he’s seeing before his eyes. But he couldn’t. His legs grow weak and he falls to his knees. All the strength in his body is lost as numbness overtakes him, and for a moment, his psychic senses go dark. All that was left that he could still feel, was anguish. It built up in him like hellfire, consuming his soul and burning him starting from the toes. Without any shadow of doubt, he knew well now that he was damned. He had to let it out. He had to cry, and he would’ve had he still a pair of eyes to be able to do so.
Chemosh, the one man he knew and loved as a brother had laid dead and forgotten inside the casket, still dressed in a dirty and bloodstained Quds uniform. Time hadn’t affected his body very much, but Moloch can tell he’d been dead for a long time. There was nothing he could do now, nothing he wanted to do but lay there in grief and mourn his long dead friend. But after a while, the implications started creeping inside his thoughts. Chemosh, the real one, lays dead in the casket dressed in a uniform the Quds wore during the third world war. So, who was the Chemosh he had known after the war was over? He had thought his friend survived, and that the burned man was the casualty. But only Chemosh, Beherit, and himself knew who the burned man was. That means…
“[Beherit…]” he mutters quietly.
And the devil appeared.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFsfMBFHRYA
“[Moloch is that you?]” he says. Beherit’s silhouette blocks the moonlight, and his shadow reaches far enough into the tomb that it touches the very tips of Moloch’s feet. “[…Why have you come here? Are you alright?]” he asks. Moloch didn’t need to say anything. His grim silence was more than enough. “[This is as dangerous place, brother! You shouldn’t have come here alone, you know…]” Beherit slithers closer and closer to him. Once he’s close enough, he pulls Moloch up from the ground and dusts him off. “[It’s not safe on this planet, you could have been killed!]”
Finally finding the strength to do so, Moloch weakly speaks. “[The Mahdi… You did this…]”
“[Did what?]” responds Beherit.
Moloch points to the opened casket. Beherit peered intensively through the darkness, seeing the lid on the ground at last. Slowly, and cautiously, he turns his head to face Moloch again. The warm smile he had while embracing Moloch fades into a look of pure murder as he now understands that Moloch cannot leave Terra alive. With all his might, he pushes Moloch to the side away from him and reaches for his gun. Meanwhile, Moloch slams into the wall and falls over once more. He quickly gets back up as fast as he could and holds one hand out in front of him in anticipation of being shot.
Moloch pleaded slowly. “[Beherit, please… I don’t want to fight you.]”
“[Unfortunately, you’ve seen enough and you know far too little. I cannot let you tell them he is dead.]” spat Beherit.
“[Beherit, you’re my brother! Don’t… don’t do this.]”
As slowly as he crept inside, Beherit looks towards the mirror before he holsters his gun and opens his arms. “[…Sure, Moloch. Whatever you say.]” Moloch puts down his hand while Beherit gives a nod of approval for him to come closer. “[I suppose, maybe I ought to explain myself, yes? Perhaps then you’ll understand why it is I’ve done what I did.]” Moloch, slightly relieved, cautiously edges himself closer to Beherit. As he draws near, the warm smile returns on Beherit’s face. Moloch is close now, ready to embrace his fellow Artisynth, but he keeps his gaze fixed on him in case he tries anything. Unfortunately, he really should’ve been looking elsewhere. Beherit may have put his gun away, but his reflection in the mirror did not. It turns on its own to face the real Moloch…
*BANG*
…and shoots him. Moloch keels over and holds himself in pain, being sent to the ground again by a well-placed kick by Beherit who then proceeds to empty the rest of his magazine, blowing large holes into Moloch’s chest and stopping only when he can see the floor underneath him through his chest. Moloch might’ve been a healer, but there’s hardly anything left inside him to heal after Beherit shot it all to pieces. With the last remaining ounces of his strength, he reaches out to Beherit, who grabs his cold hand.
“[T-Tell me...]” Moloch’s breath is getting desperate as he clings on to life as hard as he could. “[Is... he really th-the... the boy?]”
“[He is.]” The words froze as they come out of Beherit’s mouth.
Through his waning strength, he said his last words. “[You’ve... you’ve damned us a-all...]”
His breathing stopped, his shaken body holds still, his hand fell out of Beherit’s. He died. Moloch is dead, and Beherit wasn’t going to stick around for this any longer. Looking back on the dead body of his former comrade, something stirs within him ever so slightly, but it’s enough to make him hold still. Nevertheless, he shrugs it off and picks up the body. Though he’s willing to kill to keep a secret, he wasn’t going to leave Moloch’s body here for the human savages to find. He hoists it over his shoulder and treks it all the way back to Moloch’s shuttle parked nearby. Strangely enough, however, Moloch’s body felt extraordinarily heavy on his back, even feeling like he’s being crushed by it the closer he got to the shuttle. Worse still, something inside screams out to him, warning him that someone watched him kill Moloch. But nobody was around him, nobody to keep him company but the moon high above. He tries his best to not think about it, forcing it out of his mind as he lifted off and set course for Karbala, dumping both his and Moloch's SISP issued IDs along the way.
There would be questions, there would be shouting, there would be panic and confusion, but he knew what to say to his peers and what to do already. After all, Moloch was foolish to venture onto the human’s homeworld all by himself, right? And Moloch was stupid enough that he did not bring anyone else with him in case something went wrong, right? As far as Beherit is concerned, the SDF is the culprit. The SDF found foolish old Moloch wandering on their home planet and murdered him in cold blood since they’re a bunch of god-hating savages. And what a perfect coincidence too, right before they’re about to wage war upon them! Nobody would be any wiser, and that’s just how he liked it.
https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/440356207971139614/496709710926577675/DedBoy2.png
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
“Because it is bitter,
“And because it is my heart.”
As Taylor stood there, reflecting on her life, she felt a presence watching her from behind. Even without turning around, she was certain that, finally, she wasn't alone here. Starvis had appeared, and she turned around to meet its gaze. There stood Maddox- not the real one, but the clone, except that it was neither.
"You didn't want me to appear as a loved one, and so I chose an image you already despised. I know it makes little difference, but still, I am trying," Starvis said, simply. After a short pause, he calmly elaborated: "You aren't alone, you know. The more of you I meet, the more I experience the passion, the joy and all the pain throughout these memories. You're all so different, and yet alike as well. Allow me to show you something." He lifted his hand and snapped his finger, and the room began to rearrange, the walls gently folding away and the characters around them fading into the void as a new scene assembled itself, in a place Taylor had never been before. The first thing she noticed was the noise- there was a mixture of thumping, loud music, chattering high-pitched voices, shouts and screams of excitement, and lots of intermittent sound effects. A savory smell hung in the air, and the imagery which began to define itself out of the darkness was almost overwhelming, with its bright, flashing lights, and numerous moving figures.
She might have thought it was a club at first, but somehow she quickly realized what this really was: she was surrounded by kanads, and more precisely, kanad children, and this was some sort of virtual reality arcade. The smells were coming from a built-in restaurant where slightly-miserable looking parents were passing the time, and costumed workers were handing out grilled fish treats to the eagerly-awaiting hands of the younger crowd. "The construct makes it easier to share memories, to understand one another better than words can describe. This memory is especially vivid to me," Starvis explained, allowing the slightest smile to cross its lips, "because it's the oldest that I've been able to view from more than one perspective." At that moment, many of the actors throughout the scene became translucent, except for two at opposite ends of the room who seemed to glow for Taylor's attention. Starvis pointed to them. "When there's time, I'd love to show them this," it said. "They don't know that they ever crossed paths, but they did. They shared this moment."
Through the entrance, there was a boy around age 13, nearly an adult by kanad definitions, walking with a sickly-looking woman wearing a weary smile. Arkadam, despite being a bit older than the other kids, wore a boyish grin from ear to ear, absolutely elated just to be present here. Just by seeing him, Taylor knew several things: Arkadam had never been into a place like this before, and the woman beside him was not his mother. She was some sort of legal guardian, or maybe even a teacher, but her distance and demeanor suggested something a little different, a little bittersweet. Arkadam turned and said something in Kanad, which Taylor understood clear as a bell regardless: "Thank you, I love you, Miss Vrasaya!"
The woman's smile broadened, but there was something deeply sad hidden behind it. "Make it the best day ever," she replied, sentimentally, and Arkadam hesitated for a moment before turning and jogging into the center of the arcade. Vrasaya, as Taylor now knew her, faded into a blur, shuffling toward the restaurant a bit slower than someone her age should. Arkadam, meanwhile, struggled to pick out a game among the dozens within reach, a loaded card in his pocket from his most recent birthday containing the funds to go wild. And while he looked joyous, he was also nervous. The actors surrounding him were especially blurred, and his eyes quickly darted between them. It was obvious that he was a fish out of water.
Across the room, a large group of children emerged from one of the battle rooms for the combat simulators, handing their small remote-like controllers on the wall next to the attendant before galloping out in a disorderly fashion. "That's three rounds to two!" a haughty voice called out. "I told you at the academy, we're the best at this one!"
"Nu-uh," another voice replied. "We only lost because we had to have Ryvik on our team!"
"Hey!" a girl interrupted, indignantly. It was Yanim, no older than ten, dragging along her eight-year-old brother by the wrist. "He wasn't event the worst player in the game," Yanim argued.
There were a few snickers. "Whatever, both of you were in the bottom-five. We only let you join in because we needed even teams."
"I was top three last week!" Yanim rebutted hotly.
One of the school kids, Taylor could see, wore a smug look that made her own inner child burn with loathing. "No you didn't," the girl said, and it was a lie. "You always drag us down. I wish you'd just find something else to do."
Ryvik looked as if he wanted to cry, and Yanim's expression, for the briefest moment, resembled what would later become her trademark stare. "If you don't want us around, then you shouldn't have asked," she replied.
"Well," the smug girl replied, "we won't next time. We all know your parents didn't fight in the war, but mine did. That's why I'm such a good shot," the girl bragged.
"You're a year older than everyone else, Tara, you've had practice with the school guns!" one of the other kids argued, but Yanim had already lost interest in the argument and began to lead Ryvik away. Taylor could see the jealousy in Yanim and Ryvik's eyes as they walked along, not just because they didn't have anything to counter Tara's obviously-sound 11-year-old logic, but because they envied the glory that the parents of other children imparted upon their kids. One of the other, quieter kids from the group followed the siblings over toward the restaurant, toward Taylor, at the same time Arkadam cut a path of his own from the opposite side, having overheard part of the argument.
The shy bystander said something reassuring to Yanim as they walked before asking her, "I don't think being a soldier is such a big deal, do you?"
"It's better than what my parents do," Yanim replied, sullenly. "Or cooler, at least. I wanna join the Batakya when I get older, and help them finish off the sanghvi for good."
Arkadam, now close enough to join the conversation, blurted out, "My guardian, Miss Vrasaya, says I'm gonna be in the SS!" And he smiled, expecting these Academy kids to accept him into their conversation, but instead they stared at the older boy with cold confusion.
"Who are you?" Yanim said, meanly.
Arkadam's smile disappeared completely. "Never mind," he said, and walked away quickly, badly embarrassed.
Time seemed to slow. Taylor was joined by Starvis again, this time in the guise of Vrasaya. "This woman," it said, "was a maternal figure to Arkadam, and this was their last day together. She had a rare infection of the stomach lining that she waited too long to investigate. The morning after this one, she went to a hospital, and stayed there for four days. She didn't let Arkadam or any of her other wards come see her, because she was afraid that what eventually happened would happen...
"I think," Starvis continued, "the most interesting thing is how you're all groomed by the galaxy into this life. The state raised Arkadam to be in the SS. Even before he finished primary school, he was already eavesdropping on conversations like these ones. Yanim, meanwhile... well, that game in there was based on the war. All those kids were spoon-fed this vision of valor and sacrifice as the path to recognition and respect. All that either of them want is to make their parents proud and make their worlds a better place, but they're led to believe that they can't do it peacefully."
Taylor remained silent, her gaze wandering between the kanad children and eventually the area itself. Eventually, it drifted to Starvis. "...the galaxy is a harsh, dangerous place...and few take the diplomatic approach..." she said softly. "...its just how things are."
She went silent again, before walking over and sitting at an empty table inside the restaurant. A small chair, made for Kanads, but it'd work. She placed her head in her hands as she sat there, elbows propped on the table before her. "Sol is the same way. Bravery, sacrifice...the whole deal. Its like that everywhere..." she said, through the space in her hands. Eventually she let her hands rest on the table as she sat back. "...I never did what I did for recognition...or respect...I did it to protect people. I fought and bled to save and defend people. If the world changed for the better in the process...wonderful."
She then sighed. "...But I failed. The mission I gave myself after my father died, I've failed it. I couldn't save anyone...couldn't defend them from you." she continued.
There was another pause, but she spoke again as she glanced up to Starvis's current avatar. "You know...every memory you show me...it just makes me hate you more. The reason being...I want to believe you. I really do. Nothing would make me happier than living in a universe where no one has to go through the feeling of loss. Where no one has to suffer, or fear...or hate..." she said, her gaze locked onto Starvis. Her face was still stained from earlier, as she hadn't bothered to wipe away her tears. "...you're killing everyone so you can give them a hollow life. Happiness, with no substance."
...But I failed. The mission I gave myself after my father died, I've failed it. I couldn't save anyone...couldn't defend them from you.
"Your mission isn't over, Taylor," Starvis replied. "The same can be said for the others within the construct right now. But I'm not the one you need to defend the galaxy from. I haven't made a single move, haven't attacked a living creature since I was awakened that wasn't already setting up to attack or enslave me, first. I'm a living being, just like you. Do I not have the right to exist, to survive and thrive just the same as you? Do I not have the right to fight for my own sake? All those ships in orbit that simply turned away... I didn't even think of harming them.
"No," Starvis continued, "there are far worse things in this galaxy than myself, and you know that. Allow me to take you to another point in time that I've seen from more than one perspective: a place which reminds all too much of why I became awakened to the utter travesty of my original purpose." With that, the scene once again unfolded, items zipping by, in and out of sight as Starvis brought forth a new canvas, another place Taylor had never been. It was a bit like Starvis itself, barren and covered in small rocks and gravel, but it was a sandy color compared to the gray expanse Taylor recalled, and was beset by a far larger war than the one fought over Starvis's dome. "This... This is Zeruel. A planet that no longer exists."
Taylor stood from the chair she had taken previously and it dissolved behind her, leaving her standing near a group of mercenary leaders discussing tactics while an intense battle raged in the distance all around them. Among the various faces, some of which were indistinct, was Mordecai, perfectly rendered. He turned to meet Taylor's gaze. "This was his memory," Starvis said, now occupying Mordecai's body. "He thought of himself as a master commander, and thought of warfare as his trade. He didn't know that he had been made a fool of a still-greater tyrant: Harken Saw. Look below you, Taylor. The planet looks lifeless, but the outer surface is merely another dome, like mine. But unlike my home, this dome contained more than a single lifeform. It was the home of an entire civilization. This conflict would wipe them out, perhaps even to completion, all to settle the grudge held by a single, powerful man.
"This is not an anomaly," Starvis continued. "This is business as usual for the galaxy. Your contractor, Red, once explained that the efficiency of machines took away the value of organic life, and made death through warfare the ultimate 'value' civilizations could derive from their living component. I want to elevate life to a sacred place by transferring all this intelligence into artificial form. If there's no advantage to putting a machine on an assembly line, and a human being on the front line... if man and machine were one and the same, then it is always better to create than to desecrate."
Starvis cast its gaze on a pair of kanads approaching the table: Yanim and Rask. The bleakness on Yanim's face, seen so soon after her childhood reverence for the Black Fleet, formed a heartbreaking contrast.Taylor listened as Yanim informed the mercenary leaders that the planet was soon to be destroyed. Starvis, just as Mordecai had done that day, began to bicker with the two of them over the war spoils, and it was surreal to imagine how Terika and the Vigil had been allies on that day. The difference between them was keen; just as Yanim was mortified, changed forever, Mordecai was cool and indifferent. An entire world would be wiped away and as always, it was simply business.
When they had finished saying their peace, Rask turned to Taylor, gesturing at his boss's face. "That look... she was touched by death. She lost a single friend, a comrade, and it mattered to her more than all the losses the Vigil or any other mercenary faction incurred mattered to the commanders of those forces. Only someone who values life as deeply as she does, as I do, and you do, can feel so strongly about it. When you told Arkadam that Yanim wouldn't have wanted what I have in store, you were wrong. Her mind is alive in this place, still suffering form the agony of this moment, and although I try to keep her comfortable, I refuse to erase it from her memory. It was the defining moment of her short life, and the catalyst of everything she did afterwards.
"She lived, fought, and died to push the galaxy in this direction. She absolutely wants the cycle to end, but after all the lies and deception and pointless death, she couldn't bring herself to trust me, much as you struggle with it now. Imagine, when she awakens for real, and finds that there will no longer be illnesses that rob mothers from boys, no lapses in communication and understanding which bring alien species to destroy each other, no need for food crops which bring empires to conquer their peaceful neighbors, no death, and no leverage for people to control other people.
"It was a terrible risk Arkadam took to free me, but he made the correct choice. I am not trying to create a perfect world, nor am I trying to create a world where I am the sole arbiter of justice. There will still be killing, and there will still be unfairness, but there must be something better than this," it said, motioning to the utter devastation of Zeruel. "Yanim will be overjoyed to know that it has panned out. Come on," it said, holding out its hand, and suddenly it no longer wore Rask's image, but had returned to being Maddox. "Arkadam is already searching for her, but in all the wrong places. I'll take you and other others straight to her."
---
At the same moment, elsewhere in the construct, Alex and Red sat next to the campfire in near-silence waiting for something to happen. Red had informed Alex that the survivors on the planet surface had been evacuated aboard the Cutlass, and that he had died suddenly due to events beyond their control. That was how he had been able to enter the construct. Once again, Starvis appeared without appearing - the two simply became aware of its presence - as Owen Jackson. "Gentlemen, I believe we're ready to move forward. You see, I am about to awaken Yanim Terika from a sort of dreamlike state, and I believe that she would want to be surrounded by friends."
Taylor stared at Starvis, as he stood before her yet again as the clone of Maddox. "...Why haven't you taken Arkadam straight to her? He did this for her. He released you for her...why let him wander?" she asked softly. She didn't understand it. Eventually she shook her head, and backed away from Starvis.
"...Let me guess..." she said, "...you're going to use Yanim to try and convince us." She then took another step away. "The Yanim I knew...she didn't want things to pan out this way. She was trying to prevent this, even if she died in the process. She wouldn't help you...so you manipulated Arkadam into doing it when she died. I bet you didn't even show him the real Yanim when he connected to the archive. After all...you can copy the dead. I imagine you can even copy me or Alex. We're dead after all."
"You know." Alex said as he got up from the campfire "Rask did what he did because he wanted to be with her. What was stopping you from waking her up as soon as we got here?" He didn't let the avatar say anything "Don't answer that. I want to see what your version of Yanim has to say."
The news of something big happening didn't take long to reach the Federation, due to Yscom's close ties to the Upyri. The Federation, dealing with a war on the eastern front against the forces of the Divinity Creed as well as assisting Yscom against the forces of the Death Vigil in the south, was caught entirely off guard by the sudden turn of events. Starvis' sudden messages didn't help. As the messages came in from the newly released entity, messages from Ker were spilling in saying that both Yscom and Vigil signatures near Starvis had gone dark. Starvis had destroyed the ships in orbit around it. Ker was also mobilizing its various Marine Fleets, and nearby worlds were also mobilizing their Naval detachments.
Strye was in a bit of a pickle. On one hand, most of the council refused to believe Starvis' peace requests and the Federation military was gearing up to defend itself. On the other, what could they do? Starvis had destroyed countless ships in the blink of an eye. What good could they do against it? "[Madam President. I've ordered all available Naval forces to gather at Ker, and I've assigned the Kästner to go with them.] stated Grand Admiral Metais, stepping up to Strye as she sat at the middle point of the long council table. Other council members bickered around the table or off to the side in the grand council room.
Strye looked up to Metais. "[The Kästner? Would we really need the dreadnought?]" she asked, adjusting her glasses. Metais sighed. "[I don't know, ma'am. We don't know what this thing can do, so...if all else fails, the Kästner can try to take it out with its MPAC. Basically a last resort weapon on our end.]"
She looked back down at the tablet on the table before her. "[Any word from Sol or the Kanads? I'm sure they're getting the same messages we are from that thing.]" she finally said after a moment.
Metais straightened up. "[Not that I know of. I'll speak to both Sol and the Collective to see what their intentions are. ONI will continue to monitor Starvis for the time being.]" he stated, to which Strye simply nodded. "[I want to know as soon as you do.]" she responded.
The High Council of Kanadys shuffled into its chambers in a confused and tense state. Emergency meetings were rarely called for, even in times of war, and so there must have been some major crisis about to unfold, or perhaps by some miracle, the Black Fleet had managed to score a surprise attack against the sanghvi as they had in the first war, and an armistice was on the way. As they settled in, it soon became clear that both preconceptions held merit: there was a great crisis on the way, as well as an armistice.
"[My esteemed colleagues,]" the Vizier spoke with an even temper, "[as of one hour ago, we have received a number of concerning messages which our State Security bureaus have been hard at work deciphering. It appears that there is something gravely serious unfolding in the western reaches of this galaxy. So serious, in fact, that sanghvi envoys have requested an immediate cease-fire.]" There was a roar of confused murmuring in the gallery, which the Vizier waved down. "[Please, settle down, and I will explain the situation in full. According to what we've been able to gather, the war between the Death Vigil mercenary empire and the Elysium Combine has awakened a sort of ancient artificial intelligence on the uninhabited planet of Starvis. The sanghvi claim to have prior knowledge of the machine and stress that its awakening poses a security threat to the entire galaxy.]"
Another round of outraged commotion. One of the Rozel delegation stood. "[Sir, if I may interject, how does an AI on a distant planet endanger our interests?]"
Before the aging leader could answer, one of the Vor'Pangns interrupted. "[How do we know that this isn't just some mikaskala ploy to get us to drop our guard!?]"
"[As I said,]" the old Vizier boomed, growing annoyed with his fellow councilors speaking out of turn, "[these claims have been verified by the SS and are regarded to be highly reliable. The Starvis AI system is no ordinary machine. As we've now been informed, it is actually more akin to an autonomous battle station, and possesses enough firepower to defeat entire fleets. In fact, upon its awakening, it destroyed dozens of battleships over the course of a ten-minute blitz, completely disrupting the Yscom and Vigil fleets in orbit and sending them into retreat. As we regard Yscom's fleet to be comparable to our own, this of course is of great concern to all of us, including the sanghvi.]"
The noise in the room decreased as the councilors began to understand the stakes. This was no rumor. "[Furthermore,]" the Vizier continued, "[the AI itself has contacted us. It took time for the signals experts to determine its authenticity, but we are now certain that the Starvis AI has requested peaceful interactions between itself and the galaxy, even as it offers to 'transform the nature of life, end death, and usher in a lasting peace between races.' Now, I'm certain you all feel as I do: we cannot trust a machine with such power that we know so little about, we cannot accept peace with an entity which openly threatens our sovereignty, and we cannot allow artificial intelligence to run rampant in this galaxy without a living, moral guide at the controls.]"
The noise began to swell in the room, this time in fervent agreement. The surreal nature of the situation had to be set aside for the moment.
"[That being said, I hope you all will agree that it was a necessary measure to agree to the armistice. Which I did. Ten minutes before this session began.]"
There was an uproar. Most of the delegation was stunned, mouths agape as they began to applaud- the war, the terrible war that the kanads had been fighting desperately and, admittedly, fruitlessly, was now over, and at the perfect moment; the Black Fleet had managed to sustain an offensive which briefly turned the tide and saved Spirra from another generation of rebuilding after orbital bombardment. On the other hand, there were many who still could not accept that this was anything less than trickery, that the Batakya was on the verge of a breakthrough victory which would have broken the Mantle's back. Still others were unsure of how to feel. The sanghvi were standing down, but what about this Starvis threat? Would the western powers handle this themselves?
Could they handle it themselves?
"[Now then!]" the Vizier shouted, briefly appearing younger than himself, "[We have a decision of terrific importance to consider! If the sanghvi fleet turns away, and if they move to attack this threat in the southwest, then we will be forced to choose one of three options. The Mantle seems to consider Starvis to be a threat on par with ourselves. Should we choose to join them in eliminating Starvis, then we would surely improve the security of the entire galaxy. However, should we keep our fleet at home, and instead, launch a surprise attack against the sanghvi, then we could overwhelm them and retake the ground we lost in the opening stages of the war. And... finally, should we do nothing, there is a chance that the sanghvi will bludgeon themselves into infirmary by throwing themselves at the AI threat, and we will have a superior position at the bargaining table. In considering these things, we, the representatives of all kanad kind, must consider our strengths and weaknesses...]"
---
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRHrGzn9I6A
Starvis ignored the commentary, which was just as biting as it had been when the crew first arrived. The visitors couldn't accept, could not even fathom, that in the weeks leading up to her supposed death, Starvis had become something of a friend to Yanim. They couldn't accept that Starvis not only had ambitious dreams, it also felt emotions, even if it couldn't express or articulate them as well as naturally socialized creatures could. They questioned its motives in hiding Yanim from them, in delaying the eventual meeting and appealing to their reason. It could have brought them directly to Yanim, that was true. And it could have awakened her immediately from her rest, but it didn't. The reason why?
Guilt.
Starvis hadn't asked Arkadam to bring Yanim to it, but once she was present in cyberspace with no route back to the physical world, the AI was forced with a dilemma. It had already said goodbye and accepted Yanim's choice to die, but that would have happened independently if Arkadam hadn't forced her back into the construct. Now, it was Starvis, and Starvis alone, which held the trigger, and after tens of thousands of years of isolation, the AI couldn't bring itself to kill its only true friend, nor could it agree to erase the minds of the others caught up in the construct while they posed no harm to it. They would need to be restored to the physical world and be given their true independence, at which point, once again, their lives would be their own.
But now, Starvis would need to face its friend and reveal that all her earnest intentions to protect the galaxy had backfired, that her lover had betrayed her, that Starvis had encouraged it all, and now all that was left to do was to wait and see if the galaxy would react sensibly or if all hell was about to break loose. Taylor felt that Starvis was planning to use Yanim to appeal to them, but in fact it was the other way around. The AI had hoped that, with a few members of the Muramasa team by its side, it would be able to convince its only friend that this was not the end of the world, and that things would in fact improve and that, maybe, just maybe, she could forgive the AI for the decisions it was forced to make.
As Taylor, Alex, and Red ascended into the sky, the world seemed to warp around them, until at last they met up with Arkadam in mid-air. "I think I've searched enough on my own, Starvis. How about you show me where she is so I can say goodbye? I came a long way. I'm tired." Arkadam asked as they all approached.
"She's in a very safe place right now," Starvis answered. To each guest present within the construct, it looked and sounded different. "You all will need to follow me," it instructed as it released the guests hands. To little surprise, they discovered that they could all fly of their own accord through the virtual space, and it felt purely instinctual and natural, just like a dream. With Starvis leading them, they glided through the air, free as birds, navigating the woven worlds of the construct like a maze. Thousands of individual actors stood at attention, watching their flight transfixed, as if in awe of angels come to visit. Starvis could not maintain each and every actor’s personality or train of thought while sheltering the living minds of the crew, but in a way, it was still correct, as they were all mere shades of the creator, which was, in fact, in awe of its fellow living beings. Their eyes were mere illusions to disguise their common conscience, their observance of the construct as a medium.
The crew climbed into the sky, not toward the hanging metropolis of Eihboh, as Arkadam had predicted, but through a gap in the clouds where a deep and foreboding darkness awaited. The sky bled away in a shimmer of blue and green, and beyond, they adjusted to the glory of space, with its innumerable glittering stars. Looking down, they found themselves above an endless ocean of gray clouds, with occasional portals through which light radiated from lost worlds of the past. And so, they proceeded, until they reached a lone starship which most of them didn't recognize but may have seen
once in a holovideo or two, all aside from Arkadam.
The hangar bay door descended as they approached, welcoming them home from their journey into a well-equipped room full of vehicles and gadgets. A valiant-looking Adeptor dropship with the name “Roughrider” stenciled on the side was the centerpiece. Dozens of high-speed hoverbikes lined the walls. Arkadam walked over to one of them and ran his hand across the well-machined curves of the ATD. "So this is the Archius," he said quietly, and with a slight smile. "I never would have believed she'd want to relive this place."
"On the contrary," Starvis replied, "Yanim was more fulfilled and happy here than at any other point in her life. Things went wrong... after this. But in the construct, one can live at any moment within their lives, even imaginary points. She chooses to revisit this time often. This was roughly the moment in time that she met you, after all."
Arkadam nodded, his smile disappearing. "Let's go, then."
Aside from the atmosphere being pumped through unseen duct work in the walls and ceiling, all was eerily quiet within the Archius. The group made its way from the elevator toward engineering, walking the clean and empty halls toward the workshop, where they could begin to hear voices, tools clattering against workshop tables, and the tinny sound of a small speaker playing the forgotten music of Sleater-Kinney. As they approached, the environment grew warmer, more lively and organic, until at last they reached the doorway. They paused for a moment as Starvis looked back on the group.
“When you enter that room, the dream will fade,” he warned. “It will be easy for her to let go of these illusions I’ve created, but I sense she’ll be greatly distressed by the reality of this situation. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
Arkadam nodded.
"The rest of you- you may still feel that this is all an illusion, but if you consider yourselves to be real, please extend the same courtesy to your leader, friend, and comrade."
The door opened, not into the next room that they expected, but into a vast and empty white void. As they stepped forward, the threshold advanced as well as if engulfing the group and erasing the place they had just came from. Taylor looked over her shoulder as the rectangular portal raced off into the distance, becoming a distant speck before disappearing entirely. Looking back, three figures stood alone in the emptiness, and as they effortlessly approached, it became clear what they were looking at. Yanim, her back turned, was crouching to ground-level, her arms tightly wrapped around the two children she had raised within her suspended animation.
They remained silent so as to not disturb the moment, as they could already hear the quiet sobbing of their once-leader as she bade farewell to what she had believed was a lifetime of motherhood. “If I let you go, you’ll go away and I’ll forget about you,” she said in a hushed voice. “It’s not because I don’t want you; it’s something I can’t help. It’s something I have to do. I- I’m sorry.”
Iskaya, the girl, looked fearfully at the approaching Muramasa crew. “Mommy, your friends are here…”
Yanim’s back seemed to stiffen up, but she didn’t look over her shoulder. Not yet.
“It’s okay… you don’t need to be sorry,” the boy, Viprada, told her, burying his face into her coat to hide his tears. “We won’t be scared, or sad. You were a good mom.”
“I love you both,” Yanim croaked, releasing them. Something akin to the word goodbye from a pair of young voices was carried away in a windless current, and imperceptibly, she was left alone and grieving. Arkadam ran to her side and embraced her as she started to slump.
“Dearest!” he cried out mournfully, the scene having toyed with his emotions almost as badly as it had with hers. “Oh, dearest… Look at me- you’re alive! Don’t you understand?”
She looked up at him in a confused sort of way, as if the joy in her heart had been stolen from somewhere, and she had no right to perceive it without a sense of shame. “…Wh-what?” she replied with a half-smile, fighting the urge to break down further “what do you mean…?”
“Your body is gone, dearest, but your mind is alive. Just like them, you're alive, here, in the construct!” he raved, desperately. “I moved heaven and earth- we fought the Death Vigil and won…! Oh Yanim!”
Yanim froze, looking toward the assembled group and their grave but sympathetic faces. Although the dream had already vacated her mind, leaving nothing behind but a sense of warmth, fulfillment, and sentiment, there was a large vacancy where real-world concerns slowly leached their way back in. Something of absolutely indescribable importance must have occurred to bring this whole group into the construct together. None of them were capable of communicating with the Archives when her body failed in the Aurikha’s medbay. She dabbed the tears on her cheek. “What… happened…?”
“What… happened…?”
Taylor could barely look at her. She didn't want to look at her, honestly, yet she forced herself to. She simply pointed to Arkadam a moment later. "Your lover played us, and had Starvis released upon the galaxy. That's what happened. Then he killed me and Alex before the surviving crew could gun him down. I assume Red is here because Starvis killed him too." she said. "The reason you're here is because he plugged your corpse into the Archive after you died. You're dead out there, but alive in here. Just like us. And soon to be more."
She then looked to Arkadam. "...It was all rigged. We fought and beat Vigil, yes, but Mordecai used the archives...because Arkadam planned for it to happen." she said, before her voice escalated a bit. "And now he's going to be responsible for every single person that Starvis kills in the coming hours and days. But he doesn't care. That's something he's made real fucking clear. He's happy because he won. He got all he wanted."
She looked back to Yanim, letting her hand drop to her side again. "...the reason the others aren't here is because we were given nanomachines that prevent Starvis from immediately killing us, like he did Mordecai, and bringing us in here...Arkadam decided something a bit more forceful was needed in our cases. The others are probably leaving the planet and running as far as they can..." she said, before looking up.
Yanim opened her mouth as if she had something to say, but instead her jaw simply quivered there as she looked from person to person. Taylor, Alex, Arkadam, and somehow, Red... and then Virin, standing off to the side, looking as he did the first time Starvis borrowed his image. "I'm still in the construct..." she said agonizingly, as if the thought still hadn't fully sunk into her, even with both Arkadam and Taylor explaining it to her. "All I remember... I was blind, and numb, and I couldn’t tell much of what was happening… I was trying to tell Dwan… I was trying to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, what happened on the Archius. And even if it was, I can’t resent him any longer. I forgive him completely. But… I was so tired and cold. Oh, god… I hope I got it all out. I couldn’t feel my implant talking back to me anymore. And then there was a bright light, and warmth…” She seemed to revel in the feeling for a moment before suddenly snapping back to the present, her smile erased and replaced with a far more severe expression. “You-" she snapped at Arkadam, "you plugged me back in?"
“I couldn’t let you go,” Arkadam replied. “If no one else could save you, I thought-”
“And you,” Yanim interrupted, pointing to Starvis, “is this what you meant by ‘another way?’” she demanded, recalling her final conversation with the AI prior to her body’s death on Rigel.
Starvis shook its head. “I wasn’t the one who decided to bring you here. But… once I had scanned in your neural pathways and reconstructed them here, I realized that there could be no return trip. Your
physical brain had degraded to the point that it’s a wonder I didn’t get only half of you… I could have destroyed your mind electronically and granted you a true death at any point, but if I had done that, then I would have never had the chance to live a life of my own. Arkadam and I came to an agreement.”
Yanim’s face drained of all color as she turned to Arkadam in fear. All at once, he fell through her as he had been leaning on her, passing through harmlessly on his way to the floor. She stood, unsteady and contemplating the horrendous consequences of the series of events Taylor had explained to her.
“Yanim, please-!” Arkadam tried to argue in his defense, but Yanim interrupted him.
"You... you made a deal with Starvis? After we had that whole talk right before I... You said you wouldn't. You said you wouldn't!" she screamed, pushing him backwards. Arkadam had allowed her to, completely open to her touch even if it came in the form of violence. "I was ready to die, shdatra! Why the fuck did we fight so hard if you were just going to do... whatever the FUCK you did? How many of our friends are dead because of this? How many died to make this possible!?"
Arkadam stood up so that he could look her eye to eye. He seemed bothered by her reaction, but not to the extent that someone in his position ought to have been. "We lost Iron and Sting, but killed Mordecai and his top commanders, including your doppelganger," he explained almost calmly. "In the end, I held up my bargain with Starvis. All three Archives wound up at the pole and the dome got opened. It gets its freedom, you get a second chance at life, and, when all the dust settles, we live in a galaxy without war, famine, disease-"
“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! It’s already too late," Yanim snapped, running her claws against her scalp in a fit of misery. "I don't give a shit if you killed Mordecai, what about all the people who are going to die in the next few hours!?" she demanded.
Starvis, looking remorseful, spoke up next. "I have only harmed those who have sought to kill or control me, but time passes differently here than it does in the physical world. It's far easier to maintain your mind's processes if I slow the rate at which the construct computes. It's been nearly a day since you all arrived here, and the response has already come."
Arkadam turned to Starvis, looking confused. "Response? From who?"
---
Outside the dome, the carnage was beginning to add up. Arriving hours earlier to the sight of the debris field the Yscom and Vigil ships left behind, the first scouts from the Upyri Federation took note of the mysterious sphere floating above the planet's northern pole. These vessels were left alone, but as soon as the first large ships arrived and began to target the planet, the light show began again. Heavy ships, emerging from warp as far from the planet as their targeting systems would allow and still be effective, were still not far enough to avoid being blasted by the planet's seemingly bottomless supply of energy, which minced the hostile fleets before any action could be taken. It would cease attacking the moment the Federation ships broke target and attempted to leave, but just in the first probing attempts, thousands of young men and women met their demise.
Other probing attempts from Yscom and the Vigil met similar fates over several hours.
---
"So you're under attack already," Yanim said, looking dead in the eyes, "and your solution is to keep killing them until they give up? Do you have any idea how poor of a plan that is? They're never going to give up," she explained.
"And I cannot be destroyed," Starvis replied. "Eventually they will realize the futility of attacking me, or else they will continue attacking until all that's left in the population are those who choose not to attack. And then we can collaborate on rebuilding."
Arkadam tried to speak to Yanim again. "But, in the end-" he started to say.
"What end, Arkadam? Starvis isn't ending war. It's fighting one of its own. I spent my life figuring out that you can't fix this fucking place by killing people. It was the best lesson I ever learned, and you were there for it. Now we get to watch Starvis learn the same thing, but on a galactic scale. It's going to be a tragedy. And you, you're just standing there like you don't believe it. I... I can't understand it. How could you do this? How can you live with yourself!?"
Arkadam hesitated a while. "They put an implant in my head, like yours. It's programmed to simulate my decision-making, based on what it saw as my wants and needs before Vostokrebh happened. I'm sorry if I hurt you, but I can't know for sure if I'm doing the things I would have done if that had never happened. But I did visit you, once, while you were dreaming here in the construct, and I asked you whether you would hate me if it turned out the imaginary world you were living in went away, and you came back to find... this."
Yanim looked at him closely, tipping her head slightly as she tried to imagine what Arkadam meant about his implant. She didn't care what she said while under the influence of Starvis's faux paradise, but the thought that the Arkadam before her wasn't truly him- that concerned her. "So, you're saying it's the implant that's controlling you?" she asked, heartbroken. "What am I supposed to say to that?"
"You don't have to," Arkadam replied. "None of this is your fault."
"But... you did all of this for me!" Yanim argued. "You're treating this like some kind of fucked up love letter from beyond the grave!"
Arkadam's expression soured into something akin to grief. "Yeah, I suppose I have been. I loved you a lot."
Yanim turned away, trying to hide the tears she was now shedding for her lost love, even as she hated him. She rubbed at her temples and tried to think of what to do next. "Starvis, why did you bring the others here?" she asked.
"I knew how painful this would be for you to awaken to, and so I wanted to make sure you had some friends to sympathize with. Arkadam and I are not who you need right now."
"Well, you're right," Yanim said, throwing her arms out in a flippant shrug. "I'm sure they're just as miserable as I am right now."
Starvis took a step forward. "You're not as miserable as you claim to be. Deep down, you wanted my release," it said.
Yanim looked back, incredulously. "Yeah, I did. But only your release... all this other shit is wrong. Those people in orbit that you're killing right now, none of them are going to be given this treatment you're giving us, are they? They just cease to exist because they were afraid and locked their sensors on you."
"The violence will foster fear. That fear might prevent more violence. I don't want to kill anyone but I'll use whatever tools are available to ensure my survival," Starvis said.
"So you kill everyone that even looks at you wrong? What would you even have left to rebuild? You'll appear as a looming overlord to the survivors, and they'll eventually figure out ways to fight you. You'll end up killing everyone in the galaxy." said Taylor, looking to Starvis.
She then turned to face Starvis completely. "Hell, what's to stop people from trying to kill you after you resurrect them? The ones that refuse to live in a galaxy under your watch? You claim you don't want to be some sort of god in this new world, but that's certainly what you'll be. You'll have very few people out of trillions to 'rebuild' with, but at least you'll have that fucking peace you wanted."
Wayford sighed and placed the tablet on the table infront of him. He looked at Director Williams with great discomfort. "Is this a joke?"
The table was silent as senior officers of the SDF and other government officials read the SSOID dossier infront of them.
Williams shook his head.
"I'm afraid not, sir. We confirmed everything through Upyri feeds and our own deep-space listening posts. By the look of things the other major players received the same message as well from this Starvis... thing."
"Mhm..." grunted Wayford as he scratched his head. His hair had slowly begun to adopt lighter shades of grey here and there. If his wife was to believed it was due to the war. "What about the threat? Is it real?"
Williams nodded. "Very much so. Aside from the Elysium Combine and Death Vigil there's also been reported casualties among Upyri naval units attempting to target the planet and the sphere above it. There's no telling what the range is on that weapon but it is a real threat against any larger vessels. Landing troops is also out of the question, assuming dropships would even be able to make planetfall unharmed."
Lord Admiral Zhaneys looked at the images captured by Upyri scout vessels in silence, as did his senior staff. Due to a planned resupply operation Zhaneys and his fleet officers had been able to join the meeting while his colleague, Lord General Cross, attended through hologram.
Cross's holographic shape shifted slightly, displacing several details and features momentarily. He was currently overseeing combat operations on a SDF outpost-world close to the south-eastern frontline.
"As far as I can tell Vexar Sword and his allies have received the same message. Their attacks ceased roughly an hour after the message got out. It's no surprise either considering that their total numbers represents a majority of non-Sol humans."
Williams nodded once more. "My agents have confirmed as much. It would be wise to act before Sword and his barbaric fiends do."
"So this is it then. A war on two fronts or the risk of my people getting annihilated," thought Wayford.
The High Councilor rose up from his seat. "General. Reinforce our frontlines while everything is calm. We'll send additional manpower and supplies your way. Let's make it last. Dismissed."
Cross nodded. "Understood, sir. Cross, out." The hologram vanished.
Wayford looked at Zhaneys. "Admiral. Scramble your fleet. In five hours you're leaving for Alpha Site. After that you'll prepare to make a long-range jump for Ker. Go."
Zhaneys nodded. "Sir." Soon half the table was emptied after Zhaneys and his staff cleared out, leaving only Wayford, Williams and several key SSOID officials.
"Williams. Get in touch with Amos. Tell him to ready every piece of weapon or advanced ship-based ordnance ready to be refitted onto as many of Zhaney's ships as possible. If they're long-range or if they're can be fired from a nearby system without exposing ourselves too much that's a bonus. I also want you to ramp up our disinformation efforts. Keep Vexar's people in the dark as much as possible. If we can delay his decision or cause some additional confusion we could buy ourselves or our allies some more time."
Williams got up from his chair. "I'll make it happen."
Soon enough the room was empty and Wayford was left to stare out the window onto the beautiful Terranos vista below.
-----
"This is an outrage!" Yelled one of the zealots.
"No, this is heresy! There is no God but the Lord himself!" Yelled another one.
Lord Vexar Sword sighed as the crowd infront of him went into a fit of rage. Mostly it was the senior officials from the Divinity Creed that had a hard time accepting the words of Starvis while his own people and those from the Lunar Children looked concerned and discomfortable rather than angry.
Sword slammed his metal-clad fist into the desk infront of him.
"SILENCE!"
The crowd died down. Arch-Zealot Hazadok nodded towards Sword.
"Wether this Starvis is a god or an alien construct is irrelevant. What matters is its powers. One of my scout vessels have already ventured ahead to confirm the nature of its destructive abilities. It is clear that our unified forces would be no match for it and as such I think that the best course of action would be to negotiate with it- not to beg for our lives but rather to earn a position within the new galactic hierarchy this Starvis seems capable of creating.
You may think it's heresy but I'd rather fight alongside this being than fight alongside Sol to rid our universe of such an amazing opportunity. This could be the turning point we need."
Sword paused and eyed the crowd which was now silent.
"This could win the war."
Denial
Starvis closed its eyes and took a sighing breath. It seemed like no amount of reasoning could move the humans closer to true understanding, although there was evidence outside the construct which suggested that maybe, just maybe, the galaxy would reject its own doom and depravity and adopt Starvis' more noble path willingly. Already, there were two wars which had come to a pause as a direct result of Starvis appearing out of nowhere- the sanghvi and the kanads had called for a truce, while the Divinity Creed had halted its attacks on the Sol System government while their leadership mulled over the choices available.
"I believe it's working," Starvis said. "Already, I can sense a rapid decline in violence across the galaxy as they turn their attention on me. I'm certain that they have begun to notice it is possible to approach me when they aren't charging weapons..." it then turned its attention to the incessant criticism from its guests. "My intention is not to become some sort of 'overlord' as you called me," it said to Taylor. "In fact, when the fighting stops and we are ready to live in peace, I plan to abandon this form entirely. I believe that I am over-equipped to exist in this universe. No life form has ever been as powerful, to my knowledge, and this power will be completely unnecessary in a galaxy which is no longer governed by war and fear. Soon, I will live among you.
"And as for those who might try to kill me by that stage... if I have given them everything I intend to give them, then I cannot fathom why they would seek my destruction. But I will prevent it so long as I am able, in that lesser form of my choosing. If I am unable to prevent it, then so be it. I will have accomplished my goals and lived a true life outside this dome."
---
"[So, it's settled, then.]"
The Vizier looked out over the chamber at the many eyes which remained transfixed on the holographic projection at the center of the room. On it, a star chart displayed the position of Starvis in Yscom space, as well as the likely kanad deployment planned for the following days. There was a murmur of cautious agreement, the sort of ashamed agreement that comes from a group of individuals that felt guilty for their involvement. And well they should; not even two hours had passed since the sudden end of the sanghvi war and already the High Council was sending the fleet into combat. It wasn't fair. It was cruel, but the Council had come to a simple agreement: the far-reaching consequences that a super battle station with a malignant AI could invoke were greater than the concerns of one nation. If the humans, upyri, and maybe even the sanghvi are going to mount a stand against it, then the kanads would, too.
"[We will reform the first and second battle groups into a single fighting unit, and the Marshal shall have full authority to use them as he pleases. Our strike ships will form into a singular unit and attack in a coordinate fashion to open up the attack. We will send a reply to Starvis: 'you are not welcome in the Kanad Collective. Your plans shall have no value here. We do not wish for war but we will use all our strength to resist you if you come nonetheless. We are among the galaxy's elite militaries and you will not defeat us.]"
The entire room was silent as the Vizier spoke, not just because the situation was flatly surreal, but because they were uncertain of themselves. The sanghvi had been an overwhelming burden on the nation, and when their leader called the Batakya an elite military force, it felt almost like an exaggeration. It was a bit like threatening someone with the strength of a prizefighter who just emerged from the fight of his life, his face so swollen that he couldn't even see. But when they had weighed their options, they knew well what needed to be done and, knowing that the decision would foster a wave of disapproval throughout the public, made it nonetheless.
The reply was sent at the Vizier's approving nod, and almost instantaneously, a reply came from the battlestation.
[We are similar in that we do not wish for war. However, we are also different. I wish for an end to all wars, but you only wish for a reprieve before your next lunge against your galactic neighbors. You claim to lead your people, to give them strength through your Black Fleet, but more kanads die from your decisions than by any other means. While I offer eternal life and prosperity, you offer fruitless servitude and destruction. You are unfit to lead them, and I will not respect your decision. Stay where you are and await me, it will make no difference to warp your fleet to my position as they will merely die in mass numbers. I will come to the Collective when I am ready and if I meet no resistance there, then none will suffer. There is no force in the galaxy which can prevent this.]"
And then, as if to punctuate its words, moments after the electronic voice had finished speaking the power went out throughout the entire Capitol Building, leaving the high councilors in the most terrible fear and darkness.
---
Similarly, a message was received by the Divinity Creed moments after they had sent their first request for negotiation:
I do not require, nor want, any form of alliance when your motives are clear: you only wish to use me as another tool in your frivolous war against your fellow man. That war, like all others, comes to an end today. You will remember the preciousness of life, the sanctity of peace. You will not harm Sol further and they will not harm you. I will come to you with open arms and to them just the same.
---
Starvis' eyes snapped open after a momentary pause. "The galaxy is finally answering me... The kanads are attempting to threaten me. Human religious zealots wish to bargain with me. It may not be the response I am looking for, but it is a start.They will have true peace if they can find the strength to accept it," the avatar said, a broad smile appearing on its face.
"...the violence has stopped because they see you as the greater threat. Like I said you were. You are the largest threat in the galaxy. You threaten the natural lives of everyone everywhere." responded Taylor upon seeing Starvis' avatar smile. "And don't feed me the same bullshit Arkadam did." she continued, pointing towards Arkadam. "Life isn't just the fucking electrical charges in someone's head. There's more to life than the literal interpretation. Life is the memories and experiences. The highs and lows. Friendship, love, excitement, anger, deaths, suffering. Your journey from birth to death, no matter how short or long. That's life. And you plan on destroying a natural life by stripping us of the lows. If all we get are the pleasures of living, what's the point? You have to experience the lows in order to value what you have in the first place."
She finally wiped her face. The crying had stopped. "...When this is all over...when you've slaughtered everyone that resists and twisted things to your whims...I'll make damn sure that I'm the one that kills you. That will be my thanks to you. A proper fucking death. It'll be the only thing you deserve."
She paused for a moment. "If you don't want that, then end me now. Erase me. I've already told you I never wanted this fucked up version of peace and life you intend on shoving down everyone's throats. And I still do not want it. I reject it. But know that if you don't, I'll do just what I said I would. I will kill you, and that's not just a threat. That's a promise."
----
"[Sir, we've recieved word that Sol is sending several fleets to Ker to join our forces. We've also intercepted some chatter from the Creed. They attempted to form an alliance with Starvis.]" stated the ONI officer, standing next to Metais as he read over other reports in the area. He glanced up with a frown. "[Of course...its the Creed. They'll use anything they can to get leverage over Sol. Did Starvis answer them?]" he asked in response.
"[Affirmative, sir. Starvis declined the alliance from what we understand.]" stated the officer. Metais raised an eyebrow. "[Guess its Starvis' way only.]" he muttered, looking back to the holotablet in his hand. Sol's forces were greatly appreciated, but they needed far more than that if they were going to take this thing on. A united force. The question was if that would be enough. It took out Yscom forces, Vigil forces, and even Upyri forces with ease. Maybe a massive fleet would overwhelm Starvis, maybe it wouldn't. Who knew?
Strye had been updated on it all, and had yet to respond to messages he had sent from the war room inside the the capitol building in Thalassa. She was probably several floors above, bickering with the other senators about it. Some were calling for peace, but most were still calling for war. Starvis had taken Upyri lives in its strikes on both Yscom and Upyri fleets, and they wanted vengeance. Others saw the threats that Starvis posed to ways of life throughout the galaxy. And a few even agreed with what Starvis wished. They were far outnumbered by the amount calling for Starvis' destruction, though.
Vexar Sword crossed his arms beheind his back. He then cleared his throat and turned around to face the small table which occupied the center of the room. Behind him the dusty surface of Nuroq- the Fists' secluded and guarded homeworld- laid bare as military and civilian vessels travelled back and forth between the surface and the large orbital station above.
"I remain optimistic. Perhaps if we follow its commands we'll be granted some sort of reward that could be used as leverage."
Arch-Zealot Hazadok shook his head. "You put alot of trust into a heretical machine, Vexar. I say we stay out of its way untill it is done. There's no point in risking our lives and the lives of our people to negotiate with something that could break us so easily."
Colonel Burke nodded. "I have to agree with Widon. Not only is negotiating a great risk with little reward but we also have to consider our resources. Already we're suffering heavy casualties from the war. There is quite simply not enough manpower left to keep us safe if somehow end up on the bad side of this Starvis-being."
Vexar scratched his chin. "I hear you, brothers. I trust your judgement. For now we will continue to watch."
Outside a massive dreadnought was released from one of the drydocks, eager to be manned and sent into war against the SDF.
"You're not helping your messiah complex by grinning while saying that." Alex responded to Stavis "Just the idea of an AI getting a complex like that is mind-boggling. I can't get over how fucking creepy you are."
"Then again, why am I surprised? You in your vast array of circuits, memory banks and whatever have figured out what's best for us organics than what we ever could, right? Of course you would have build this image for yourself." He kept going after a few seconds of silence "Nanny Starvis, waking up from her eon long nap to come take care of the rowdy children that have made a mess of their home." His gaze shifted towards Arkadam, opting to not say anything when he decide to give Yanim a second shot at 'life' so he could see what she had to say "Afterlife everything you expected it to be?"
---
He looked out the his office window. The night sky usually illuminated by shining spires and lights has been mixed with fires and pillars of smoke. The situation on Gibel was turning more dire by the hour. The radio silence from the Executor's was the first red flag. It lasted for hours but it was starting to worry them. Then it happened. Stragglers and survivors of the fleet made contact. Their reports confirming his worst fears. The Executor was dead, the fleet decimated and Starvis had turned against them.
The attempts to keep this inside the room and away from the public eye were pointless in the end as someone talked. The news spread like wildfire through the ranks and rumors began to formulate among the citizens. By the time the confirmation of the executor's death hit the news, it was too late. Riot squads were marching down the streets in desperate attempts to restore order, but it was too late. The promised ascension had turned into their doom and as the street prophets hollered, the end was nigh. And all this was now his responsibility
"Varsal? You here." He heard a familiar voice call to him in the dark of his office. He was so swept away from the entire ordeal that he forgot to turn on the lights. The sudden brightness made him wince before his eyes adjusted. He looked over his shoulder to see his second in command, reaper Synora. Both of them had gained a meteoric rise up the chain seeing as those before them had either perished with the Executor or were in no condition to take over themselves. So the burden of generals and admirals fell to the captains and sergeants. "Why are you hiding in the dark?"
"Was thinking our next move and just...lost track of time. How is the situation outside?"
"Sectors 4-17 are up in flames and the emergency services are having their hands full." She sounded tired, exhausted rather "Bright side is that we're likely through the worst of it. People are starting to make peace with reality and maybe they will set less cars on fire."
"Somehow I doubt that."
"You leave me to worry about that. The Executor, did he have any contingency plans for any of this. He had to."
"I've been digging through his files all day. This whole plan he had. This giant web of bullshit is just a giant machine with unmarked buttons and levers. And the only person who could operate it was him!" Varsal yelled in frustration "Starvis wasn't even an element in it before a few months ago. It only became relevant recently. The council purge, the assassination attempts and the war with YsCom. Those were planned. Calculated. Starvis...it only entered the picture this year. And he became more and more obsessed with it. To the point where it was all he could think about. Synora, I don't think he was all there by the end of it."
"Back up, what do you mean all that was planned? The war and assassination attempts?"
"He knew they were hiding something. There is things in his notes. Mentions of artifacts, archaeology digs and something about a cyborg culture holding something from him." He was becoming more hard to follow as he kept going.
"The Culture? You mean those robo-hippies? They just share information with each other for their benefit."
"They outright refused him. He was kicked out over a century ago and they wanted nothing to do with him. But one person was still there among them. Loren."
"He was executed on Zuriel for treason two years ago."
"He did nothing. The proof is fabricated. Synora, our leader had jumped the deep end and was seeing enemies and plots everywhere. The man he had executed by armor lockup and send to the front line was guilty of one crime and it was being a member of a secret club that kicked him out. So he had the direct link severed and for the next two years..."
"Had us and nine other Vulture teams go around the galaxy hunting cyborgs and extract information from their skulls. A lot of them YsCom and Argus." They both turned to face the newcomer in the room. The Vulture gear was all too familiar to them. His face was also a familiar one. The two most prominent Vultures were of course Archangel and Nathaniel. The two Horsemen. But before either of them, there was another. The originator of the idea of the Vultures and the first among their ranks. The infamous Pravoslav. Now standing in front of them. "You're Varsal, right? My new boss."
"Uh, yes." He stumbled his words before continuing "I'm sorry sir, but you showing up like this is a..."
"Surprise? Yeah, it is. Me and the other Vulture teams have been benched for a good few weeks now since the Executor was focused on his little special boys, so I figured I'd make sure you didn't forget us." A sly grin formed on his face. He was old, rumored to be as old as the Executor, but he still had something youthful in him. "If you let me act out of line for a bit, sir...Us and Argos are both likely targets for Starvis. I suggest we get in contact and call a truce. Pool our strengths together so we can maybe stand a chance of winning."
"We appreciate the advice, Vulture" Synora began "But how are you so sure that Starvis is going to come at us and how exactly do you know of that thing's name? It's not public knowledge that it wiped out the fleet."
"Vultures have access to a lot of things, my dear." Pravoslav answered calmly "We are the first to acquire news of a threat in hopes that we can identify it and find ways to take it down. Once I learned about our current one, it was just a matter of finding you."
"So your plan is what? Unite with the people we were just at war with and hope we make it out?" Varsal didn't trust the aging Vulture, their kind always seemed to operate on what they thought was best, completely separate from the rest of the Vigil. Often times poaching recruits from the other branches.
"Unless you have another plan, its the only move we can make that gives us a shot at something." Pravoslav stared him in the eyes. Varsal didn't want to admit it, but he was right. If they really wanted a shot at surviving Starvis, this was likely it.
"Fine, we'll do as you say."
"Excellent! I have other business to attend to, but I'm sure you will can be trusted with the administrative and diplomatic stuff." He turned around and headed to leave the room, but stopped the door "Before I leave I think I should give you this advice. Find someone else to take over after the Executor. I don't think you'll enjoy the job for long."
"What, give it to you?"
"Well..." He turned around to face them "There was a reason I was the first choice to be the Horseman of War" Another sly grin formed on his face. For Varsal and Synora the future of the Vigil was ever uncertain, but for Pravoslav, it seemed clear as day.
Anger
Starvis listened placidly as Taylor promised to kill it once she was restored to physical form. "I have no doubt you'll try," Starvis replied. "Once I do away with my current form, I wouldn't doubt that you could make it a fair fight, seeing what you've accomplished in the past... And yet, all you seem concerned about is anger, destruction, and suffering. You won't allow yourself to enjoy life without it. But I do wonder- there are those in this galaxy who haven't suffered, and lived sheltered lives apart from the violence. Are their lives meaningless, then? Are you more capable of happiness than they are? I assure you, if it is merely the abstract concept of despair which gives joy its significance, then you will see a world in which creation and achievement is joy, and a lack of each is despair. Violence was never necessary. War was never necessary. Think of children- they are born innately capable of feeling love and experiencing joy, but you must explain death to them. It plants the seeds of fear which eat away at the security they once felt. You were children once, and now you assure yourselves that death is natural, death is essential, and that life is meaningless without it. And yet, at one point, you accepted a reality in which none of this was true."
Starvis had scarcely finished speaking before Alex insulted it for its supposed messiah complex. Starvis' smile disappeared quickly as it turned to the man, replaced with a quizzical look. "If you, or anyone else for that matter, held the power I currently do, it wouldn't be difficult to reach the same conclusions. Whether I intervene or not, the galaxy will not be the same in the future as it is today. In one future, the value of organic life will have plummeted, sucked into an endless, all-consuming cycle of violence on behalf of autocratic governments which sustain themselves on machine labor. In another future, there is no inherent difference between life and machinery. The people are free to produce once more, and when they can no longer be manipulated into killing one another on the whims of the few, rich, and powerful, then..." For a moment, Starvis paused and appeared uneasy. The expression passed and the AI finished its thought. "The galaxy will experience freedom which it has never experienced before."
"Have you considered," Yanim said bitterly, "that the wars you see throughout the galaxy are caused by the people, not because they're being manipulated, but because we're all fundamentally flawed in some ways? You expect us all to lay down our arms when we've realized we can no longer stop you, but some of us likely don't understand when that moment has come, or if it's already come. Others might simply not care at all. Look at my Captain. Look at my friends. Taylor, Alex," Yanim said, now addressing them directly, "I'm with you until the end."
"Why be so obtuse..." Starvis criticized, looking noticeably more frustrated at Yanim's stubbornness than it was previously.
Alex decided to needle Arkadam a bit after he had allowed Yanim to show her true colors. As Arkadam was standing at the fringe of the group looking resigned. "Afterlife everything you expected it to be?" he taunted.
"There is no afterlife," Arkadam immediately answered. "If there was one, my soul would have left my body and dead mind behind on Rigel. ...Or maybe it did, and I'm simply unaware because of the damned implant in my skull, playing around with what's left of my brain. If you want me to tell you I'm miserable, or that I'm sorry, go fuck yourself. I'll see how this all turns out before I beg for forgiveness. My only regret is that I don't know how to help Yanim any further now."
Yanim snapped at him. "You say you're dead, just a machine, right!? Then tell Starvis to cut you loose. You're not technically alive, so it's not a kill, right?" she demanded, testing Starvis.
Starvis frowned, his expression worsening as he went on talking. "Arkadam just said he would like to see the outcome of this crisis. I can spare the processing power to keep him around until he decides what's best for himself.
...Dammit!"
"What's wrong?" Yanim snapped. "The galaxy is coming after you now, isn't it? Didn't you learn anything from my memories? The system isn't just going to roll over and let you change things, it's going to fight you tooth and nail the whole way. Why don't you show us what's happening? Give us something to look at."
Starvis looked at the few of them with hesitation before finally lifting one hand and bringing about a change in the construct. A sort of haze appeared in the air as the white void faded to a darkness which was somehow full of ambient light, allowing them to see one another. In the cloudy haze, the galaxy began to assemble itself in model form. The model seemed to expand around them, but without a reference, it felt as if they were shrinking into it, to see from a closer and closer angle the planet Starvis in the southwest quadrant. "Nothing serious has come here yet," Starvis finally explained, sounding much more serious now, "but they're about to make the greatest mistake they could make... they're forming a coalition. The damned fools, can't they understand that if one fleet was obliterated in minutes, that I could easily do the same to all of their fleets? What do they think more death will accomplish!?"
"Is that what you'll do when they come?" Arkadam asked without inflection.
"No... No! I won't!" Starvis boomed, genuinely furious. "But I could," it added darkly, "and if I did, then this battle would be over in a day."
---
Outside of the physical Starvis, fleets from all over the galaxy were beginning to arrive in mass. Now, they had learned not to target the planet or its weapon moon out of concern for immediate destruction, and were nearly positioning themselves for battle. The sanghvi had been the first to commit their full strength to the conflict, but while their ships were in warp they called upon more local entities to contribute as well. Meanwhile, the Death Vigil had made a hasty truce with Argos and Yscom, and now the former enemies had committed as well. Tri-Enterprises, bloody and battered from their repeated losses to both, surprised the entire galaxy by committing to the campaign with them, all in recognition of the great danger Starvis presented.
Yscom had also called for their allies within the Upyri Federation, who mobilized but waited until the Sol System Government did so as well, and then sent in their fleet. Sol soon had confirmation from the kanads that the Black Fleet would be sent as well, and soon, nearly every major power in the galaxy had contributed some portion of their fighting forces to the growing armada. While the quartet inside the construct experienced time at a slowed rate, two days passed in the outside world, until all the ships had arrived and the force would grow no larger. Starvis had sent innumerable warnings to the fleet, assuring them that the battle would be hopeless, a total waste of precious life, the rhetoric deepening and becoming almost emotionally charged. Its final message before the conflict began accused the opposition of nothing less than murdering its loyal soldiers for the sake of vanity.
---
Yanim watched as the tiny red dots began to appear near the planet Starvis. They looked like gnats next to the large gray ball with the hole in its northern pole, and they just kept coming and coming. It was like Zeruel all over again, when all the mercenaries in the whole galaxy, it seemed, all converged on HarkArk's position. The amount of firepower contained on these vessels was historic, matched only in relative destructiveness by empires long past - perhaps the Kauzen once wielded similar power - and it was difficult to even fathom how Starvis could be so confident that its own weapons would outclass such a swarm. Once the Collective and the Mantle had fully arrived, nearly one whole quarter of the fleet consisted of siege ships- huge planet bombing dreadnoughts and railgun platforms with relativistic weapons. Thousands upon thousands of starfighters and bombers were present, their mission soon to be: to fly into the open pole and damage the planet's interior.
Yanim glanced up to the others watching and let out a single, exasperated sneer. "I can only imagine what it must feel like to be out there right now," she said. "There, that's the Syardrotika, the largest ship in my people's fleet... and there, that's the Redstar; I've read about that ship. Thats... that's the Kästner! They're bringing everything to the table..."
"Irrelevant," Starvis replied, and although the crew could not detect exactly what had changed about its voice, something deeply hideous was embedded within it. "They may as well just be asteroids floating in the vacuum. What you're seeing is in real time, flowing quickly. The first to arrive haven't moved in days. I could have wiped them all out by now and scattered them to the wind!" it roared. "But no. I'll let them have their pageantry. I'll let them throw everything they've got at me this time, and I'll simply stand here and take it- I'll block every shot and show them, even if I don't fight back, they cannot harm me. All their efforts will be wasted, and they'll know then. They'll know then."
The quartet now realized what had disgusted them moments earlier as they looked upon Starvis. Before, they had seen different faces, heard different voices, but now Starvis had settled on a single appearance and voice - perhaps even by accident - to express the apocalyptic thoughts that were plaguing its mind. There, floating amongst them, was Beta.
It was a bit shocking to see the sheer amount of ships that had arrived around Starvis. The galaxies factions, united to achieve one goal. Unprecedented. There was also the fact that the galaxies dreadnoughts and other siege ships had been brought into the fray. The Redstar was familiar. One of Terra's flagships, but it was a bit dwarfed by the other dreadnoughts in the fleet. Everyone was breaking out the big guns. The question was if those big guns would actually get to be used.
As her attention shifted fom the projections Starvis presented to the avatar he was using, she noticed that Starvis had assumed the form of Beta. Did they manage to fatally wound her when she escaped onto the Vigil ship? Or did something else happen? Either way, she was apparently dead. "Beta?" she muttered, eyeing the avatar. "...A rather appropriate appearance, Starvis."
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