THEY were coming.
THEY were the stuff of rumor, of myth, of legend. THEY were the fodder of stories whispered by grizzled Star-divers, deep in their cups; by those Star-divers who had dared to go Beyond and delved the Deep Black. THEIR ships are sleek, artistic, even beautiful, appearing to have been forged from silverquick and infused with pure Light. THEIR eyes twinkle, THEIR smiles are warm and inviting. But don’t be deceived, the stories tell. THEIR words are woven from spiderlight. If you listen to THEM, if you give THEM a chance to tell of their mission, then sooner or later, you will become THEM. It is inevitable.
THEY were coming.
Those were the stories, anyway. The details varied a bit over the deca-cycles, waxing and waning in popularity amongst the Star-divers, but always present in one form or another. There was always at least one who claimed to have seen THEM, or seen the aftermath of THEIR visit. Such an one was often mocked to one degree or another, but their tales usually found fertile ground in at least one or two minds. There was even the occasional daring (read: foolhardy) soul who would take their ship out into the Deep Black in an effort to find THEM. A scant few of these ever came back, and their compatriots – for a brief moment – mourned those lost to THEM, before carrying on with their own endeavors.
THEY were coming.
So the stories told. But THEY never appeared, and life went on, continuing each day-part as it had for much the same way over the past mega-cycles. Colonization of the star system proceeded slowly but steadily, and resources flowed back to the Homeworld. New ships were built, new gunstations placed at strategic locations (there were those in the galactic neighborhood that were jealous and greedy, after all), and a goldshine age beckoned to the Iaaro, a glorious future of peace and prosperity.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Vatha-505, freshly minted gunmaster, sat in the command cradle of Point Nine for the first time and entered her command glyphs. Her crests ruffled with barely-contained excitement, the metallic susurration carrying lightly through the small room. Point Nine was one of the gunstations in high orbit over the Homeworld, and to be posted here was a high honor for one as young as Vatha-505. Her performace in the training crèche had earned her the assignment, though a few words from her mentor Algethi-724-D had certainly helped. Vatha-505 vowed to the Va’rran that she would not let Algethi-724-D, or indeed her fellow Iarro, find her lacking.
In addition to being a vital cog in the Homeworld’s defences, Point Nine (and its sibling gunstations) served as a wayhelper for the cargo ships that carried Delvers to the outer worlds and returned with holds full of ores, groundrock, and other treasures to feed the fires of Industry on the Homeworld. Once her command glyphs had been accepted, Vatha-505 was inundated with datastreams concerning the flow of ship traffic in her assigned Segment. She quickly sorted the datastreams into her preferred configurations, and proceeded to ensure that all flowed as it should. It wasn’t long before Vatha-505 was rewarded with a chime that told her the ship flow efficiency in her Segment had improved by a factor of point six-three-three-eight. She allowed herself a slight ruffle of her crests in pride, then resumed her work.
Day-parts flowed into more day-parts, which became cycle-parts, which became cycles…
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Seven cycles had passed since Vatha-505 had been installed in Point Nine. Since then, her configurations had been adopted throughout the Iaaro’s home system, and she was being considered for the position of Prime Mentor. Such an honor had never been bestowed on one so young, but Vatha-505 didn’t let the thought interfere with her work. At least, most of the time. On rare occasion, however, she allowed herself a microcycle of pride, and then continued with her work.
The day-part’s duties were nearly complete, and Vatha-505 reluctantly considered her options for her impending rejuvenation time. As she prepared to disengage from Point Nine’s control matrix, alarms started screaming and every screenview went black. Vatha-505 immediately attempted to engage diagnostic subroutines but was unsuccessful. The black screenviews briefly displayed an image she’d never seen before, something that looked like a star-point made from goldshine, backed by silverquick. The star-point image vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and then a communication channel opened. It was Vatha-505’s mentor, Algethi-724-D. The two had not communicated for three cycles.
“Remain in place, Vatha-505,” Algethi-724-D indicated. “A transmat beam will be engaged shortly.”
“What is transpiring?” Vatha-505 queried.
“THEY are coming.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Vatha-505 found herself in a command cradle very similar to the one she’d just been removed from, but this one was somehow different. It held a distinct.. flavor, for lack of a better term; an undercurrent of potential and raw, unfocused power. Vatha-505 attempted to input her command glyphs but nothing happened.
“Patience, Vatha-505,” came the voice of Algethi-724-D. “We are implementing Phase One. If this is unsuccessful, and Phase Two becomes necessary, you will be notified. For the moment, please endeavor to relax.”
“As you ask, it will be.” Vatha shifted slightly in the command cradle, finding a more comfortable placement, and closed her optics but reached out with her other senses. The power was still there, and she could sense it slowly – oh, so slowly – taking shape. She could feel the flow of data to distant cogitators, and heard the barely-perceptible whine of psi-fusion reactors. Vatha-505 tilted her head to one side in an effort to focus. The reactors were larger than any she’d encountered, larger than what was theoretically possible. What need could there be for such?
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
A day-part passed, then another. Vatha-505, patient as she was, began to feel a sense of irritation at her isolation. She had nourishment and stimulation of both mental and physical natures available to her, but no information. For one such as Vatha-505, the lack of information was akin to the lack of breathing gases. But Algethi-724-D had asked her for patience, so for her mentor and her people, Vatha-505 would be patient.
The third day-part of her isolation was drawing to a close when the communication channel opened again.
“I regret that I was unable to communicate more promptly,” said Algethi-724-D. “Early indications were that Phase One would be successful, but such was not the case. We are therefore preparing to implement Phase Two. Certain protocols had to be enacted to allow for this, hence the delay. Prepare for a significant information downlink.”
The indicated information flowed into Vatha-505’s mind and micro-cogitators with significant force. Anyone of lesser experience would have been subsumed by the riptide of data. As it was, it took Vatha-505 several micro-cycles to process what had been downlinked.
What she saw and felt chilled her to her very bone-struts…
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
THEIR ship had somehow appeared deep in-system, bypassing the Iaaro’s outer defense perimeters. Vatha-505 had to admit that it was elegant and beautiful in ways she never thought a ship could be. How could something like that be dangerous? But then she realized that was part of THEIR threat. Aah, but THEY are clever…
Phase One was engaged. Vatha-505 saw the inner defense systems activate, saw the shoals of Iaaro ships speed to meet THEM. She felt the recoil as the guns spat death, as the ships executed flawless attack patterns, as THEIR ship appeared engulfed in plasma fire. But when the fire died, THEIR ship was still there, and it was utterly undamaged.
THEY have energy fields, the data indicated, much like those employed for containment in the psi-fusion reactors but much, much stronger. None of our weapons can penetrate THEIR defenses. The attacks continued, more ships came at THEM, but it was all for naught. Though it seemed the Iaaro attacks were weakening THEIR energy field defense, it was in miniscule amounts. There was not enough force available to the Iaaro to stop THEM.
THEY attempted repeated communications. Some in the Iaaro command suggested speaking to THEM, to at least buy time for another attack effort; those who did were quickly removed. ‘We must not become THEM’ was the battle cry. More attacks were launched, piecemeal efforts at delay and distraction. Finally, THEY responded with force, ruby lances of star-fire stabbing from THEIR ship; each Iaaro ship touched by that fire was immediately crippled. It was clear that Phase Two was an inevitability.
Vatha-505 had a bare micro-cycle to take a deep inhalation of breathing gases before she was shown what Phase Two really was.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Is there no other option?” she queried.
Algethi-724-D replied with a somber tone. “None. This was decided many mega-cycles ago, if THEY ever came and we were unable to stop THEM. We must not become THEM, not under any circumstances. Therefore, we will cease to exist, and all trace of our civilization will be erased. There will be none that survive, none to remember us.
“Except you, Vatha-505.”
“Me?”
“You will be our hope, Vatha-505. Our last and only hope. Our hope for remembrance, our hope for justice… and our hope for vengeance.” Vengeance. This was a word that for cycles unnumbered held little to no meaning among the Iaaro. To hear it from her mentor…
Vatha-505’s crests settled sadly. “As you ask. But, how will it be?”
“You rest in the command cradle of the most powerful starship we have ever constructed. Over the mega-cycles, any information regarding THEM was fed into the cogitators you certainly felt. The data gathered during Phase One has been downlinked as well. Psi-fusion reactors of unprecedented power will feed fabrication systems of unparalleled complexity, that weapons of unimaginable force may be forged. You may already sense this ongoing.
“But it will take time, time that we cannot allow THEM to take. Phase Two will drive THEM from our worlds, so that all may proceed. While it does, Vatha-505, you will sleep. And when you awaken, how many cycles from now we know not, your skin will be impenetrable battlesteel. Your blood will be plasma fire, your legs mighty stardrives, your arms the bringers of death.
“You alone will remember us. Let that memory drive you in your quest, to find THEM and make THEM taste our wrath.” Algethi-724-D’s optics glittered sadly. “When you awaken, you will no longer be Vatha-505. You are allowed to choose the name you will take.”
“To choose?” Such a thing had never happened before. The gravity of her calling settled heavily on Vatha-505. She considered possibilities for a micro-cycle.
“I will be Sapphire Black,” Vatha-505 stated. “That place where the life-giving sky of our Homeworld meets the beginning of possibility that the dark of the void represents.”
“So it shall be,” nodded Algethi-724-D. Vatha-505 felt herself sliding into un-awareness. “Sleep now, and remember…”
THEY were the stuff of rumor, of myth, of legend. THEY were the fodder of stories whispered by grizzled Star-divers, deep in their cups; by those Star-divers who had dared to go Beyond and delved the Deep Black. THEIR ships are sleek, artistic, even beautiful, appearing to have been forged from silverquick and infused with pure Light. THEIR eyes twinkle, THEIR smiles are warm and inviting. But don’t be deceived, the stories tell. THEIR words are woven from spiderlight. If you listen to THEM, if you give THEM a chance to tell of their mission, then sooner or later, you will become THEM. It is inevitable.
THEY were coming.
Those were the stories, anyway. The details varied a bit over the deca-cycles, waxing and waning in popularity amongst the Star-divers, but always present in one form or another. There was always at least one who claimed to have seen THEM, or seen the aftermath of THEIR visit. Such an one was often mocked to one degree or another, but their tales usually found fertile ground in at least one or two minds. There was even the occasional daring (read: foolhardy) soul who would take their ship out into the Deep Black in an effort to find THEM. A scant few of these ever came back, and their compatriots – for a brief moment – mourned those lost to THEM, before carrying on with their own endeavors.
THEY were coming.
So the stories told. But THEY never appeared, and life went on, continuing each day-part as it had for much the same way over the past mega-cycles. Colonization of the star system proceeded slowly but steadily, and resources flowed back to the Homeworld. New ships were built, new gunstations placed at strategic locations (there were those in the galactic neighborhood that were jealous and greedy, after all), and a goldshine age beckoned to the Iaaro, a glorious future of peace and prosperity.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Vatha-505, freshly minted gunmaster, sat in the command cradle of Point Nine for the first time and entered her command glyphs. Her crests ruffled with barely-contained excitement, the metallic susurration carrying lightly through the small room. Point Nine was one of the gunstations in high orbit over the Homeworld, and to be posted here was a high honor for one as young as Vatha-505. Her performace in the training crèche had earned her the assignment, though a few words from her mentor Algethi-724-D had certainly helped. Vatha-505 vowed to the Va’rran that she would not let Algethi-724-D, or indeed her fellow Iarro, find her lacking.
In addition to being a vital cog in the Homeworld’s defences, Point Nine (and its sibling gunstations) served as a wayhelper for the cargo ships that carried Delvers to the outer worlds and returned with holds full of ores, groundrock, and other treasures to feed the fires of Industry on the Homeworld. Once her command glyphs had been accepted, Vatha-505 was inundated with datastreams concerning the flow of ship traffic in her assigned Segment. She quickly sorted the datastreams into her preferred configurations, and proceeded to ensure that all flowed as it should. It wasn’t long before Vatha-505 was rewarded with a chime that told her the ship flow efficiency in her Segment had improved by a factor of point six-three-three-eight. She allowed herself a slight ruffle of her crests in pride, then resumed her work.
Day-parts flowed into more day-parts, which became cycle-parts, which became cycles…
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Seven cycles had passed since Vatha-505 had been installed in Point Nine. Since then, her configurations had been adopted throughout the Iaaro’s home system, and she was being considered for the position of Prime Mentor. Such an honor had never been bestowed on one so young, but Vatha-505 didn’t let the thought interfere with her work. At least, most of the time. On rare occasion, however, she allowed herself a microcycle of pride, and then continued with her work.
The day-part’s duties were nearly complete, and Vatha-505 reluctantly considered her options for her impending rejuvenation time. As she prepared to disengage from Point Nine’s control matrix, alarms started screaming and every screenview went black. Vatha-505 immediately attempted to engage diagnostic subroutines but was unsuccessful. The black screenviews briefly displayed an image she’d never seen before, something that looked like a star-point made from goldshine, backed by silverquick. The star-point image vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and then a communication channel opened. It was Vatha-505’s mentor, Algethi-724-D. The two had not communicated for three cycles.
“Remain in place, Vatha-505,” Algethi-724-D indicated. “A transmat beam will be engaged shortly.”
“What is transpiring?” Vatha-505 queried.
“THEY are coming.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Vatha-505 found herself in a command cradle very similar to the one she’d just been removed from, but this one was somehow different. It held a distinct.. flavor, for lack of a better term; an undercurrent of potential and raw, unfocused power. Vatha-505 attempted to input her command glyphs but nothing happened.
“Patience, Vatha-505,” came the voice of Algethi-724-D. “We are implementing Phase One. If this is unsuccessful, and Phase Two becomes necessary, you will be notified. For the moment, please endeavor to relax.”
“As you ask, it will be.” Vatha shifted slightly in the command cradle, finding a more comfortable placement, and closed her optics but reached out with her other senses. The power was still there, and she could sense it slowly – oh, so slowly – taking shape. She could feel the flow of data to distant cogitators, and heard the barely-perceptible whine of psi-fusion reactors. Vatha-505 tilted her head to one side in an effort to focus. The reactors were larger than any she’d encountered, larger than what was theoretically possible. What need could there be for such?
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
A day-part passed, then another. Vatha-505, patient as she was, began to feel a sense of irritation at her isolation. She had nourishment and stimulation of both mental and physical natures available to her, but no information. For one such as Vatha-505, the lack of information was akin to the lack of breathing gases. But Algethi-724-D had asked her for patience, so for her mentor and her people, Vatha-505 would be patient.
The third day-part of her isolation was drawing to a close when the communication channel opened again.
“I regret that I was unable to communicate more promptly,” said Algethi-724-D. “Early indications were that Phase One would be successful, but such was not the case. We are therefore preparing to implement Phase Two. Certain protocols had to be enacted to allow for this, hence the delay. Prepare for a significant information downlink.”
The indicated information flowed into Vatha-505’s mind and micro-cogitators with significant force. Anyone of lesser experience would have been subsumed by the riptide of data. As it was, it took Vatha-505 several micro-cycles to process what had been downlinked.
What she saw and felt chilled her to her very bone-struts…
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
THEIR ship had somehow appeared deep in-system, bypassing the Iaaro’s outer defense perimeters. Vatha-505 had to admit that it was elegant and beautiful in ways she never thought a ship could be. How could something like that be dangerous? But then she realized that was part of THEIR threat. Aah, but THEY are clever…
Phase One was engaged. Vatha-505 saw the inner defense systems activate, saw the shoals of Iaaro ships speed to meet THEM. She felt the recoil as the guns spat death, as the ships executed flawless attack patterns, as THEIR ship appeared engulfed in plasma fire. But when the fire died, THEIR ship was still there, and it was utterly undamaged.
THEY have energy fields, the data indicated, much like those employed for containment in the psi-fusion reactors but much, much stronger. None of our weapons can penetrate THEIR defenses. The attacks continued, more ships came at THEM, but it was all for naught. Though it seemed the Iaaro attacks were weakening THEIR energy field defense, it was in miniscule amounts. There was not enough force available to the Iaaro to stop THEM.
THEY attempted repeated communications. Some in the Iaaro command suggested speaking to THEM, to at least buy time for another attack effort; those who did were quickly removed. ‘We must not become THEM’ was the battle cry. More attacks were launched, piecemeal efforts at delay and distraction. Finally, THEY responded with force, ruby lances of star-fire stabbing from THEIR ship; each Iaaro ship touched by that fire was immediately crippled. It was clear that Phase Two was an inevitability.
Vatha-505 had a bare micro-cycle to take a deep inhalation of breathing gases before she was shown what Phase Two really was.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Is there no other option?” she queried.
Algethi-724-D replied with a somber tone. “None. This was decided many mega-cycles ago, if THEY ever came and we were unable to stop THEM. We must not become THEM, not under any circumstances. Therefore, we will cease to exist, and all trace of our civilization will be erased. There will be none that survive, none to remember us.
“Except you, Vatha-505.”
“Me?”
“You will be our hope, Vatha-505. Our last and only hope. Our hope for remembrance, our hope for justice… and our hope for vengeance.” Vengeance. This was a word that for cycles unnumbered held little to no meaning among the Iaaro. To hear it from her mentor…
Vatha-505’s crests settled sadly. “As you ask. But, how will it be?”
“You rest in the command cradle of the most powerful starship we have ever constructed. Over the mega-cycles, any information regarding THEM was fed into the cogitators you certainly felt. The data gathered during Phase One has been downlinked as well. Psi-fusion reactors of unprecedented power will feed fabrication systems of unparalleled complexity, that weapons of unimaginable force may be forged. You may already sense this ongoing.
“But it will take time, time that we cannot allow THEM to take. Phase Two will drive THEM from our worlds, so that all may proceed. While it does, Vatha-505, you will sleep. And when you awaken, how many cycles from now we know not, your skin will be impenetrable battlesteel. Your blood will be plasma fire, your legs mighty stardrives, your arms the bringers of death.
“You alone will remember us. Let that memory drive you in your quest, to find THEM and make THEM taste our wrath.” Algethi-724-D’s optics glittered sadly. “When you awaken, you will no longer be Vatha-505. You are allowed to choose the name you will take.”
“To choose?” Such a thing had never happened before. The gravity of her calling settled heavily on Vatha-505. She considered possibilities for a micro-cycle.
“I will be Sapphire Black,” Vatha-505 stated. “That place where the life-giving sky of our Homeworld meets the beginning of possibility that the dark of the void represents.”
“So it shall be,” nodded Algethi-724-D. Vatha-505 felt herself sliding into un-awareness. “Sleep now, and remember…”
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