Chapter Text
106445 BCE, Citadel Charum
“Daowa-maadthu ... Fate is off-center, the wheel of life is cracked, the wagon will hit a rock, jolt hard, and fall apart for all of us - eventually.” So he mused, eyes glazed over as his hand hovered over the central console, tapping at a few holographic panels “It would seem the rock has indeed broken the wheel, they approach the Citadel.”
The final Forerunner assault was staged from seven portals opened at one-hour intervals to disgorge the massive fleet of the Didact himself, along with his finest commanders, many of them veterans of the battles that had been fought from human colony worlds along the outer rim to Erda-Tyrene itself.
It was ironic that among the last surviving humans gathered in the Citadel Charum, the greatest Precursor ruin left on Charum Hakkor, she and him were brought together. Yprin Yprikushma, the Political and Morale Commander of their Concordance of Human Republics, and him, the Lord of Admirals, Forthencho Oborune. He had never liked her, nor her him, and yet here they were, the leaders of both sides of Humanity, both of them: tired, broken.
They shared this space among the ancient Precursor structures with the remnants of the Admiralty and a good portion of the SOL complement of Forthencho’s own ship, the Spire of Winter — listening to the hideous noise of Forerunner fleets sweeping over and breaking down their last resistance.
And of course, who could forget, the hundred or so bruised and battered San’Shyuum warriors led by High Commander Ark Tramnt, last remnants of the San’Shyuum loyalists on the Planet.
Though the San’Shyuum leadership on Janjur Qom had made the decision to sell out Charum Hakkor’s defences to the Forerunners; that had not swayed the hundreds of thousands of loyalists on the planet who had bled for centuries alongside their Human allies. And the remnants of these loyalists were here, tired, their sensuous features marred by dozens of scars.
So few they seemed, all thousand of them, gathered in the greatest Ruin of the Precursors; and so small, for the room dwarfed them in size by an order of magnitured. Doubly so, for they were waiting, waiting, for the Forerunner fleet’s bombardment to end, for the Didact to mete out whatever cruel punishment he would upon them.
He looked at Yprin, gazing at her oval face, her resigned almond eyes, and thought back to but a scant few hours ago and the actions that the various leaders of Human Command on Charum Hakkor had taken.
Yprikushma and seven thousand of the SOL left on Charum Hakkor had been stationed in the large underground Cavern below the Arena that housed the Primordial, alongside a further twelve vessels that had been assigned to protect the timelock that contained the Primordial.
The Forerunners however, had captured the timelock and the Primordial, sheer numbers crushing even the pinnacle of the Human Race.
But even as his troops fell, their combat skins shattered by the hard-light weaponry spat forth by Warrior-Servants, they ensured that Yprin was withdrawn, even against her fervent objections — this much he had heard. He had also heard that she had hoped to be captured by the Forerunners themselves, so that she could warn them about a fate one would not wish on their worst enemy.
To warn them about what the Primordial had told her. She had arrived unto the Citadel, still kicking and screaming in frustration, tears spewing from her eyes like it were a great font on Erda, as he placed his hand on her shoulder, one he noticed, was remarkably well muscled for a scientist, and spoke but two words, “Daowa-maad.”
She did not immediately slap his hand away, just gazed at him sullenly, asking in her eyes, a question too heavy to speak unto words. And he responded, “No immunity and no cure. There is only struggle, or succumb. Either way, the Primordial will have its pound of flesh. We have met our creators, they have given us the answers we sought — and that is our curse. Soon it is to be theirs.”
She nodded at this, and perhaps not knowing what else to do, she had clung unto him, hugging him, despite neither of them having thought of each other all too fondly in the many centuries they had worked together. And he had responded in kind, hugging her, for he too was lost at what to do.
At the last, separated by only a few hundred meters, they had tracked the concentrated assault that collapsed their last orbit fields, eliminated their planetary defenses, and brought them towards the Citadel.
He looked at the panels yet again, now noticing a flashing purple icon, to which he tapped, waiting for the voice of the Didact that lay behind the message.
The Didact’s voice resounded through the chamber, “My finest opponent, the Mantle accepts all. Those who live fiercely, who defend their young, who build and struggle and grow, and even those who dominate — as humans have dominated, cruelly and without wisdom.”
Yprin scoffed, and Forthencho understood her meaning behind it, for it had not been Humans, nor San-Shyuum who dominated other spacefaring species, influencing their lifecycles with genetic meddling, or move planets into other stellar systems to test their hypothesis on the Mantle.
“But to all of us there is a time like this, when the Domain seeks to confirm our essences, and for you, that time is now. Know this, relentless enemy, killer of our children, Lord of Admirals: soon we will face the enemy you have faced and defeated. I can see that challenge coming to the Forerunners, and so do many others. . . . And we are afraid.”
Hearing this, Tramnt grabbed his head in shame, his neck quivering as he did so “If only Janjur Qom hadn’t sold us out… we could have stalemated them long enough that perhaps we could have gained a better understanding of how to bypass the debts they have imposed upon us.”
Forthencho murmured at this, having been reminded again of the Primordial and the answers the entity gave, “Could it be they delayed the assault on the Citadel the past few hours to interrogate the Primordial?”
The Didact’s voice took on a sadder inflection as he continued, “That is why you, and many thousands of your people who may contain knowledge of how humans defended themselves against the Flood, will not pass cleanly and forever, as I would wish for a fellow warrior, but will be extracted and steeped down into genetic code that we will analyse. This is not my wish nor my will. It arises from the skill and the intentions of my life-mate, my wife, the Librarian, who sees much farther than I do down the twining streams of Living Time.”
Yprin murmured, “The Librarian, if it were but fifty years ago, I would believe that she would be capable of somehow analysing the Flood. But…”
“So this additional indignity will be inflicted upon you. It means, I believe, that humans will not end here, but may rise again — fight again. Humans are always warriors. But what and whom they will fight, I do not know. For I fear the time of the Forerunners is drawing to a close. In this, the Librarian and I find agreement. Take satisfaction, warrior, in that possibility.”
Forthencho pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating the tragedies that had doggedly pursued humanity ever since their initial ascent to the stars had taken place. It mattered not, he mused, about his personal petty fights with Yprin over whether their initial springboard had been Erda, Heian, or even Shanxi. As his finger hovered above the comms relay panel, musing over whether to send a message back to the Didact or no, a different Klaxon jolted the entire room awake.
This horrific alarm was paired with a complement of red lights, and the Servitor attached to the Citadel, Kuta spoke as quickly as possible, “Flood lifeform detected burrowing through the top of the Citadel.”
Totalling on but a second on processing this, everyone within the Citadel engaged their Combat Skins, be it the SOL, Forthencho and the Admiralty, Yprin and her cadre of Scientists, or Tramnt and his San’Shyuum. All of them were covered head to toe in their combat skins, multi-layer energy shields roaring to life as they all drew their holstered weapons and stared in prepared anticipation for the Flood form above.
It was one thing to hopelessly resign themselves towards the Forerunners, it was another to allow themselves to be infected, something antithetical and diametrically opposed to all the sacrifices they had gone through in the past millennium.
Out of the corner of his eye, Forthencho noticed something, Kuta was smiling forlornly, as he spoke, “It was an honour, everyone.”
None of them had any time to react as one thousand and one hundred and seventeen slipspace portals opened directly beneath them, taking them to co-ordinates hither unknown to them.
When the Didact’s troops, led by an unhelmeted Didact himself burst open the main door of the Citadel Antechamber, they were greeted but with silence, abandoned stations, and the holographic whispers of a Servitor who had purged himself from existence.
The Didact, his hand tracing the panels that were yet warm, muttered ever so softly “Cloaking? No, such a petty trick is pointless. Slip-space retrieval? More likely. But how they achieved so when we have magnified the debt within this system so high… I must contact the Council. But the so-called Primordial deserves my attention beforehand.”
And so the mighty conqueror, walked, walked away from the barren room, heading towards the Arena Charum, for unlike what Forthencho believed, the Didact had not yet met the Primordial, rather his earlier speech of his fears was brought to life purely from reservations he had about the High Council, but the Humans could surely have not have known that.
Nor, the Didact, the hopelessness the Primordial was about to see wrought upon his soul from within his cage in the Arena.
106445 BCE, ???
With a flash of light, the remnants of the leadership of the Human Republics found themselves in a large room, amidst many hundreds of other humans running within, rushing to and fro at many holo-stations… handling work that was not immediately apparent the goal of.
Forthencho voiced out aloud, “One of our worlds?” before looking at Yprin, wondering if she had been the one who had orchestrated their transportation. Only to be greeted with a face just as blank as his. Forthencho cautiously pondered whether they had not been resuced by their allies at all as he slowly laid his rifle down.
A human approached them, clearly having anticipated their arrival, and likely being the one who had set it into motion in the first place. “Definitely a scientist” thought Forthencho, as he peered at the man for a better glimpse at their host. He had a hawkish nose, and piercing cerulean eyes. This was not someone Forthencho knew personally, clearly it was someone who operated in different circles entirely, but if Forthencho had to place a bet, he would say that it was likely the science wing of the RST.
“Don’t bother looking at dear Yprin for answers, Lord of Admirals. No, this station was set in motion by her predecessor.” Spoke the man, beckoning them forward as he directed some other workers on their stations to particular posts, while he himself stepped out of the shadows that covered him.
Yprin, whose mind was clearly calculating all the possibilities, responded “Sekir? He perished nearly 1400 years ago, I know not of any stations that could fit the factors we have encountered…. Slipspace portals…. Enormous volume… unless this is the Silver Moon? Then… is that you Dario?”
The scientist, Dario chuckled, but there was no mirth in it, just immense tiredness, “Glad to see your mind is still as fast as ever, Yprin. Indeed, now come, there is not much time, I will explain as we go. All of you, I must ensure you board the Spire of Winter before they catch onto us.”
Forthencho responded in mild shock, “The Spire of Winter? You managed to retrieve my ship?” for he clearly recalled the Mantle’s Approach having split it open after protracted battle.
Dario shook his head, “No, Lord of Admirals. The original Spire of Winter perished, we watched it’s slow demise. But what we did do was retrieve as many of the crew as we could. Here however, I just took the personal liberty of naming the VAL Prime Cruiser we had on complement after your flagship.”
Forthencho nodded, a bit disappointed that it wasn’t actually his ship, but the fact that they had retrieved his beloved crew was comforting all the same.
He began considering all the knowledge he had of their location, before speaking “I too know of Sekir Sekulatis’ personal project, Silver Moon. It was to be Humanity’s grand foray into the art of stellar engineering and slipspace observation, to rival the Forerunners. With us stationing a constructed planetoid deep within Slipspace. But was it not reported to us that it was lost, with all hands due to a unexpected energy discharge not two months after its deployment? A notable loss, as it were, was you, Dario Ukase, head researcher of the station.” as he picked up pace, knowing better than anyone that there was a large chance the Forerunners could catch them even where they were.
Dario spread his hands wide in several exaggerated motions as they walked, speaking of the true history of the station, “Compartmentalization you see, or should I say, disinformation. In his wisdom Lord Sekir falsely, and aptly, ‘terminated’ this project for the wider lenses of the Human Republics. Even the RST didn’t know that we hadn’t actually perished. No, what he did was ensure we’d be supplied through a series of outposts in the galactic center and gave us our standing orders to gain as absolute an understanding of Slipspace human science could achieve as soon as possible, with our ultimate objective being to ensure the retrieval of Human Leadership if Charum Hakkor were to ever fall.”
Dario continued, tapping his datapad fervently, hundreds of keystrokes done artisanally in but a few seconds, “Ofcourse that wasn’t our only goal. Many of our projects went hand-in-hand with others plotted by yours. Our effect would not have been seen however. But the two other major active projects besides your Retrieval, was to aid the RST’s Path Rianger Exodus as well as Yprin’s own expedition to the Path Kethona.”
“The RST’s exodus didn’t account for the slipspace eddies they were leaving on their Galactic exodus, even if they had adopted proper protocols to try to avoid the mitigation debt Forerunners are such masters of. We portalled in a Stellar Road to hide their shadows and cleaned up after them.” Continued the man, guiding them over several bridgeheads as he walked.
“The PRE? I had hoped it had succeeded, but the gulf between galaxies is so very large… and Forerunner ships are so very fast, ten thousand light years in an hour is but normalcy for them; it was only logical to assume they had been captured” spoke Yprin, her eyes regaining some of her lost lustre at the thought that there were other humans who had escaped their downfall.
“They would very likely have been pursued and brought down were it not for our interference. Though Pelumen’s Warp Drives are an ingenuity in their own league, they are no replacement for Slipspace, merely just what enables the Ark-ship esque plan they had running in the first place.” His cadence changed, voice quickened, and Forthencho noted even a hint of worry in that tone.
Forthencho spoke, “Yes… their plan was to perform a slipspace jump into dark space then use those Warp Drives to reach Path Rianger over many centuries. I remember arguing with Ris over the selected exodus target, but ultimately he won over the simple fact that the Path Meda was far too predictable a destination.” He pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing, “The Path Kethona expedition you spoke of? Was it Yprikushma’s plan from sixty years ago to dispatch the 7th Fleet to investigate the origin of those container ships that initially brought the Flood here? I had thought them lost even when I approved of it, desperate for any answers to be found there.”
Dario nodded, “Indeed, when the 7th fleet took on it’s jump, we held them ‘hostage’ so to speak for about forty years in external time; to make it seem they were well and truly lost. But they did indeed reach the Path Kethona when we used that built up time to ‘slingshot’ them. I know not of their status, but at the very least they have reached the LMC by now. Whether they find answers… choose to settle there, jump even further away to avoid the Forerunner yoke, that is upto them, we have setup the stage as we planned to.”
Forthencho decided to skip over questioning what the point of holding them hostage was, directly touched the meat of the subject, “And for us? What are the particularities of the location you are sending us to?”
Dario chuckled mirthlessly, the crow’s feet under his eyes stretching as he did so, “The greatest peculiarity in specific is that you, my dear Lord of Admirals, will be heading to a different plane of reality altogether. We observed Forerunner experiments and their zero-point energy fluctuations. We saw them tap into the Natal Void, the void that lies between Universes itself, and witnessed them encounter the Glow, a photon only realm. But an interesting phenomenon they didn’t harness, or perhaps didn’t see the point in harnessing, was to plot a path across the Natal Void by using Slipspace Fractures to directly propel themselves into a target universe.”
Forthencho’s breath stopped, his heartbeat slower than a glacier “You intend to send us into a different reality altogether? Could the stakes of our wars not be direr there? What if the Parasite has won?”
Dario nodded sadly, having clearly thought, or perhaps witnessed these realities “Indeed, a possibility in many universes, but not where we’re sending you, we targeted you to a universe in a sector of universal nodes near the direct opposite end of the Natal Void. We tested jumps exclusively to there for the past two hundred years and came to the conclusion there is no Flood there. Though we know not if there are other threats, namely Forerunners or so; that is but a logical assumption to make.”
Dario’s eyes steeled as he continued, “Your destination will be the equivalent of what is a bit over a hundred thousand years in the future, at what is roughly the location of the system of Shanxi, about a hundred light years from Erda. I do recommend however you send some corvettes to scout out Erda, Maethrillian and Janjur Qom and other points of interest, being as they are, so further ahead in time. The Servitors on the Spire will have a full list of these, though obviously these are locations you yourselves will find obvious to scout.”
All this while they had been climbing through several hangers and had boarded several lifts, their destination within Silver Moon still unclear. But now the lift doors had opened into a gigantic landing bay, and there, in front of their eyes, lay the snow-white Spire of Winter… or perhaps it should be called the Second Spire, but that mattered not, for the thirty-kilometre behemoth was a VAL class Prime Cruiser, the greatest of Human ships, and successor to Forthencho’s own Flagship.
“As you can see, you’ll be on board the Spire of Winter. But do note we refitted the ship and it’s complement with the newest drives we had on hand, easily capable of Forerunner speeds, if not slightly faster. In addition we also gave them Pelumen Warp Drives. Even if the Warp is much slower, there may be a scenario where owning an alternative method of Faster Than Light travel besides Slipspace could prove useful. The aforementioned complement within the Spire proper is one Argent Class Carrier and its own complement of eight Frigates.” Came the words, shot at speeds from his mouth any phase rifle would be proud of.
“Ofcourse, the VAL could have been equipped with 3 Carriers… but to find and well… kidnap so many ‘free’ Carriers during the war was an impossible ask; but we did manage to retrieve a few dozen Tuned Platforms to serve as your complement instead. Our population is in dire straits as you well know, but the VAL is about close to half staffed. Ninety thousand souls are attached to it, the original Spire’s crewmen and soldiers, regiments and professionals from across the Outer Rim, and a large portion of Silver Moon’s scientists even. The ship is fully self-sufficient due to the many hydroponics gardens we have within, so it will give you plenty of breathing room until you can capture or terraform a world.”
At this point, the entire party had boarded several transit trams, and they were seated as Dario continued, “However, the only SOL warriors onboard are two hundred recruits and their twenty trainers. So you can only count on the 117 you brought with you, Lord.”
Yprin’s face changed, morphing in discomfort at all this even though she was silent, but still she did not speak. Forthencho hinged on a particular point, “Most of the Silver Moon’s scientists? Will they not be needed to run the station?”
Dario did not immediately respond, choosing instead to keep his silence until they reached the VAL, being not two minutes of a journey. They got off the tram and approached the open loading bay of the ship; there was no hustle-bustle of moving supplies, for everything was already packed inside, merely awaiting the leadership themselves to enter the ship.
The Admiralty, Yprin’s own academic team, and most of the SOL besides their twelve personal guards headed inside at Dario’s urging, leaving only Yprin, Forthencho, Tramnt and Dario facing each other on the bay. Dario spoke slowly, each word measured, “Yes, most of the non-essential research staff, that is, about 90% of the Facility staff will be accompanying you.”
Yprin spoke slowly, “The rest of you?” her almond eyes flit fully staring at the gigantic station wrought by the hands of her predecessor and mentor; headed by her fellow pupil, contemplating what was no doubt the only logical reason Dario had spoken in such a careful manner.
Dario smiled, “Ofcourse, we will die.” Speaking of his death as nonchalantly as possible. “There is no alternative, to cover a jump as big as yours across the Natal Void we can only detonate Silver Moon in a controlled crescendo to mask it. And since we can’t just set the self destruct timer to a particular time and go boom, we must needs stay back so as to fine-tune every single roar in the explosion that will occur in Slipspace. We will be leaving a Slip-space marker just in-case you ever choose to jump back across the Void but that should not be your objective.”
Forthencho could not speak, for there was no point in trying to dissuade them from this task, for in the hopeless situation that Humanity was now in, it had only arrived there stemming from many necessary, and many more unnecessary sacrifices. But his parched throat yet scrounged up some words, “Daowa-maad.”
Dario nodded slowly, “Daowa-maad”, he turned to look at Tramnt before speaking “There are roughly a thousand more San’Shyuum on the Spire, enough for you to establish a stable breeding population if need be. I do not like your race, but loyalty begets loyalty, and unlike Janjur Qom, you stood with us until the end.”
Tramnt nodded tiredly, though a glimmer of hope had entered his eye at the above statement. His long neck craned upward while his eyes closed as he began murmuring softly, a prayer to Zoroas, the San’Shyuum God of Fire.
Yprin spoke, “You must know of what the Primordial said, surely these ripples in the water…”
Dario brushed it off, the man’s eyes hardening as he did so, “A god’s curse is but only a curse. We have been cursed for millennia by gods, gods born of ideation, men likened to gods, the Forerunners that think themselves gods, even this gestalt mass of flesh that calls itself the Primordial, a Precursor, all these gods have cursed… and yes, blessed us in some ways. But these curses ultimately brought unto being what we are, Humanity, a species forged by millennia of sacrifice and sorrow.”
He cradled his hand, as if having been struck by a pang of phantom pain, “Yes… our creator, if it is that, gave us the answers we sought, that does not mean we stop being human. It can have my pound of flesh, if it can claim it, but my will won’t let it claim yours, you will pass through the void, under safe passage. I will ensure that.”
They could not respond to this, for indeed, they had been blinded by the horror of the truth the Primordial had revealed, but it was true, knowing the truth, knowing such a horror did not mean they stopped being Human. Rather indeed, they should keep to Daowa-maad, like water they would flow, for this too would pass… or rather, they too would pass, pass through the void between worlds, the gulf between realities in their quest for sanctuary.
They did not stay longer, with Dario merely gave them a small wave before heading to what was likely the control centre of the Moon.
The door of the landing bay closed behind them, and they headed up to the Bridge.
As the Spire of Winter prepared for launch, both Yprin and Forthencho could not help but look through the digital viewport. To behold his small back… representative the small backs of every human who had cast their lives as a sacrifice, and yet as small as each one was, the shadow cast by their sacrifices pooled together to something immensely large, larger than any dread mass that birthed them.
They stared only forward, ever forward, for that was to truly be Human, as the launch finally began. A voice came over the comms, Dario’s, in a steady tone "Even though this technology will save humanity in this war of ours, I hope you remind yourselves. Liquid crystal cannot rise on its own. Alloys of Science cannot prevail in the face of extinction. Armour, ships, weapons… they cannot hope. They all meant nothing all these years, until you stepped inside.” Finished the Head Researcher.
Nary one breath after, the omni-thrusters came to life, making not so much a whisper in their activation.
Two breaths, the clamps holding the ship in place retracted.
Three breaths, the rail-gun like launching bay glowed with a dazzling light as vast amounts of energy traversed the nano-filaments within it.
Four breaths, the hangar door: as big as the ship itself, slammed shut.
Five breaths, a Slipspace rupture appeared, larger still than either ship or door.
Six breaths, the Servitors confirmed fractal creation and the focussing lens of the station tore open the dimensions of Slipspace inside the very rupture that had been created. The laws of physics strained and contorted, protesting the intrusion into their established order.
Seven breaths, the launching bay shot them forward, and they were but a grain of hope, flung through the dark, the terror. Across the gulf that divides. The Spire pierced through the cosmic veil of the Natal Void. The very fabric of Slipspace seemed to ripple and undulate, creating a mesmerizing tapestry of colours that transcended the visible spectrum. Swirls of iridescent hues cascaded like celestial waterfalls, blending seamlessly into the cosmic void. A sound that was nary but half a whisper and yet also a chorus of otherworldly echoes resonated through the ship, a symphony of unknown frequencies speaking to them of mathematical chaos.
Eight breaths, chiaroscuro gave away to darkness, a darkness that lasted aeons; where tendrils of shadow caressed the ship. Perhaps the ship welcomed this tender embrace, but the crew were faced with visions of their dread past, the many failures of the war. This past and the future converged in disconcerting harmony, creating a disorienting dreamscape where nightmares and reality melded into an indistinguishable tapestry. Instruments flickered with erratic readings, and the air within the ship hung heavy with an oppressive aura. They remained at their stations, none moving, yet footsteps; perhaps theirs, perhaps not echoed like distant whispers in a haunted realm. Shadows seemed to dance on the periphery of their vision, playing tricks on their sanity. In the claustrophobic confines of the ship, every creak and groan took on an ominous tone, as if the very fabric of reality was strained by unseen malevolence.
Nine breaths, there was light.
2157 CE, Shanxi-Theta Mass Relay
“General Williams, we are now approaching the Shanxi-Theta Mass Relay, currently at a distance of five hundred thousand kilometres away, maintaining steady approach vector, over.” spoke Sunan Fuu, Captain of the SSV Sigurd, observing standard Alliance Protocol to be followed during the activation of a Mass Relay; that is inform the highest-ranking authority on the closest Colony of all their actions at real-time. The SSV Sigurd was the cruiser at the head of the 6th Exploratory Fleet, consisting of his cruiser, a frigate: the SSV Mato Tipila, a fast corvette: the SSV Sleipnir and three science vessels.
“Solid copy over.” Came the response from the grizzled General back on Shanxi. In the short time that the Fleet officers had been planet-side, Fuu had had the most contact with the General. And his analysis of General Williams indicated that he was moderately competent, but seemed rather inflexible among many other personality minutiae that weren’t relevant for their expedition.
He mused to himself “I suppose flexibility is a bit hard to expect from essentially being tasked with guarding a Frontier Colony. But on the off-chance we do run into the Protheans or another race on the other side of the Relay, I do hope he doesn’t stay stubborn on certain matters. His wife did seem quite nice though, so perhaps there’s hope after all.”
He was snapped out of these thoughts when the VI on-board spoke, “Caution: abnormal amounts of Cherenkov Radiation detected near Fatloon. Recommended course of action is to cease forward movement.”
Fatloon, was the moon of Penia, the Gas Giant on the very edge of the Shanxi-Theta System; of which both Fatloon and the Mass Relay were the orbiting satellites. Fatloon itself was a barren dirtball, spectroscopic scanning a year ago had indicated it contained no valuable metal deposits besides a sizable quantity of Titanium; though a company had yet to bid for the rights to begin operations on it.
Fatloon and the Relay were also on nearly completely opposite sides of Penia, orbiting independently; with the Relay’s orbit being significantly wider.
A quiet, uneasy panic gripped the bridge; Cherenkov Radiation was not a term immediately familiar to those there, but it was not a Mass Effect Field, so aliens could momentarily be put aside as a possibility and Radiation in general could be lethal. But proving that Alliance training was no joke, they all calmly waited for Fuu’s orders.
Fuu grimaced at this unexpected development and barked out commands at the comm station “You heard the VI, send the orders over to the rest of the Fleet and send a copy over back to Shanxi Command, I want us to slow to a halt immediately.”
He motioned to the visuals officer, “Get me a visual of Fatloon on the main holos, I want to see what exactly’s going on near that moon.” At which they were greeted with the gray moon; a fair bit smaller than Shanxi; and nothing else seemingly.
But Fuu’s eyes spotted an almost indistinguishable hex and pointed at it to the Visuals Officer “Blow that up on the feed, I want to see what that is ASAP”, orders that were immediately complied with. Now, displayed neatly on the same screen was an orange elliptical… portal, for the lack of a better term, perhaps a few kilometres wide.
“What… is that?” spoke his XO, Commander Mykos, to which came the chipper response from across the comms “Likely some form of Faster-than-Light travel, Commander. Cherenkov Radiation is only produced under circumstances where objects move faster than light, so whatever we are looking at must be something of the sort; and whatever it is, is vastly different from our designs… perhaps not based on Mineral Zero at all.”
This was Professor Elena Baunaa, the Head Researcher attached to the 6th Fleet, providing her insight over the comms system from her Research Vessel, her voice audibly excited at this discovery, clearly at the idea of non-Mineral Zero based spaceflight technology; something even the Protheans did not have.
Fuu however was less excited, for an unknown of such a magnitude was also an unpredictable of equally large scope, whatever it was, they had no frame of reference on how to deal with it, even if it was just a portal at the moment.
As if to confirm its unpredictability, the Portal ballooned to several hundred kilometres in width and suddenly the very fabric of space-time near it seemed to ripple and swell, as if it were a great womb struggling laboriously, giving birth to a babe far too great for even its size.
The phenomenon made Fuu queasy, made him feel as if some fundamental laws of reality were being shattered by eldritch forces beyond human comprehension. As they continued to observe, what was once a serene portal but now writhing mass of space-time begin to ripple with malevolent arcs of blue electricity, and Fuu, even unbeknown to himself as to why he spoke so, shouted aloud “FULL REVERSE. BRACE FOR IMPACT. MAINTAIN A VISUAL ON FATLOON.”
The pilots were momentarily baffled, but immediately began pulling back the entire fleet, not daring to take their eyes away from the strange phenomenon unfolding in front of them. And immediately the pulsating portal spat forth a ruinous arc of light, so blinding it would put a Supernova to shame.
They all covered their eyes to avoid what could be permanent blinding, and when they re-opened them, they were greeted with what used to be the medium-sized moon Fatloon, but what was now a field of powdered debris, the remnants of a celestial body shattered by the emergence of… whatever had emerged.
“Contact… Contacts, multiple… oh god… vast amounts of moon rocks shot all over the place, Sir.”
The destruction of Fatloon had sent fragments of moon-debris everywhere, and though a vast majority of the fragments had seemingly just crashed into Penia, a particularly large piece, as large as a cruiser, accelerated to ludicrous speeds, passed by their former position. If Fuu’s uneasiness had not made him give out orders to move their positions, the Sigurd would have been turned into a fine paste by that rock.
And so they waited for the debris to settle down, in particular the dust-cloud obscuring what had emerged, or perhaps, the remnants of it if it had not survived it’s unholy trip. The viewscreen displayed the desolation in front of them – and …. an unknown vessel looming ominously in the void of space it had carved for itself.
“Get us closer… and get me a clearer image of it… mother of god…what are we dealing with?” spoke Fuu, his voice cracking at what he was seeing, for to Human science there was no way a construct should be capable of shattering a moon.
Immediately the 6th Fleet closed in several tens of thousands of kilometres, before coming to a halt, wherein the Visuals Officer hit it with the scanners, “Namo Amitabha…. The ship is… thirty kilometers in length. I…”
The number was so ludicrously large that it might as well have been a joke. The SSV Sigurd, an Alliance Cruiser, was only six hundred and fifty metres long. This alien ship was over six times the size of Arcturus Station, the seat of Government, let alone their own Ship.
The ship was designed… perhaps similar to a shark, for it had two rear fins, and a wide, brutal looking command tower at it’s front, and two more towers at the back, each about 3/4th the height of the frontal tower. It was bulbous, four kilometres wide according to the scanners, and just as tall, and it’s surface was smooth, with no obvious weapon systems besides a gigantic cannon beneath each main fin.
The hull adorned with alien glyphs that seemed to pulsate with a blue-colour energy, independent of the purple shimmer that covered the ship, “Likely an energy shield, that’s why it survived it’s collision.”, thought Fuu. As the crew grappled with the enormity of the situation, the Commander couldn't help but feel a deeper sense of urgency and unease settling over them.
The destruction of Fatloon raised questions about the capabilities and intentions of the mysterious ship. Was it a force of reckoning, a harbinger of destruction, or a mere consequence of its advanced FTL technology? The crew of the Sigurd, trained to confront the unknown, now faced a scenario that had far pushed past the boundaries of their understanding.
The colossal ship, however was seemingly indifferent to the aftermath of its emergence, continuing to drift in space, before suddenly re-orienting itself to face the 6th Fleet. Fuu audibly gulped at this, for what chance did they have at fighting a Behemoth that had shattered a moon merely in its exit from travel.
“Those glyphs… they’re cuneiform… I’m sure of it, it has to be, the way the strokes of each character seem to flow, it is almost certainly cuneiform.” Came the shaky, terrified voice of Elena, the scientist still desperately analysing the images they were receiving.
Fuu racked his brain, wondering where he’d heard the word, “Like.. Persian Cuneiform, Professor?”
“Yes, Captain, Old Persian to be specific… but no, these runes look similar to Sumerian, the oldest type… but not quite… somehow I think it’s something older?” came the baffled, yet shaken voice.
Mykos murmured, “So you’re saying these aliens somehow also use a language similar to ancient earth languages? Are these the guys that built the pyramids then? Why didn’t the Prothean data-banks on Mars have any mention of them? Wha….”
Fuu snapped out of it, “Ensign, attempt to establish communications with that ship, send the First Contact Package, and let’s pray they’re friendlier than they look.” The encounter with the unknown ship marked a turning point, one that would unfold with each decision made in the face of uncertainty and the vast, uncharted reaches of the cosmos, and Captain Fuu could only hope it would not jeopardize humanity.
Only a few seconds later, the ship sent a message back, in perfect English, a voice that could equally have been AI or just a heavily modulated living being “SSV Sigurd, this is the Spire of Winter, we have received your First Contact passage, do not worry, we possess no hostile intent, the destruction of this moon was an un-intended consequence of our… experimental drive test.”
Fuu’s mouth was agape at this, and as if to echo his unspoken sentiments, Mykos uneasily said “They ran a full translation algorithm that fast? AI?”
Elena’s voice came over the comms, “I don’t think they’re a race of Artificials, if that’s what you mean Commander, but they perhaps do employ AI seeing their translation speed, or perhaps they are just that advanced.”
Fuu spoke to the crew “AI or not, they didn’t make any mention of an organisation or government they belong to, we may be dealing with rogue elements not accurately representative of their species.”
Fuu tapped his feet in thought, before he sent a message over the comms, “Spire of Winter, we acknowledge that you possessed no hostile intent in destroying Fatloon. I am Commander Sunan Fuu, Captain of the SSV Sigurd and the 6th Exploratory Fleet, we possess no hostile intent either and would like to establish formal diplomatic relations between the Human Systems Alliance and your government.”
The cool, electronic voice came back over the comms, “We acknowledge your intent Captain, we would be happy for you to establish an embassy with the CHR on-board our ship, but we ask you to provide us with some time. Our stellar charts are vastly off compared to our current location, and we need to map-out certain points of interest vital to the CHR to ensure that we are not… lost beyond recourse.”
The voice continued, “Please do not take any hostile actions, we will be deploying our complement from our hangar for the above purpose.”
Fuu responded, “Acknowledged, we shall wait appropriately.”, before directing the comms to Elena, “They spoke of this uh… CHR, but did not elaborate on whether that’s their organization or their representative government. I don’t quite know how I feel about it, but to me it seems like whatever they are, they seem to be a highly militaristic species and are trying their best to uh… compartmentalize what info they feed us.”
Elena continued, “Yes, perhaps that is an astute observation, but I would like to point out that, well, they said we could establish an embassy on their ship, perhaps that means they are a species whose home-world perished and so they live on in that ship?”
Mykos too mused at what the scientist had said, scratching his scraggly beard “It could be that, but if it is indeed a military expedition then any explanation can certainly fit the bill right. They did talk about how their stellar charts are off, perhaps it is not unlikely they are extra-galactic in nature? It would explain how they hadn’t mapped out the existence of Fatloon as they crashed into it with their experimental drive. When you’re looking at perspectives that wide, you’re bound to miss a planet or two.”
Fuu’s eyes glimmered at this possibility, “That either means we’re alone in the Milky Way or… no, nevermind, that is too broad an assumption to make…. Especially since we’ve been hearing traffic on the western sec-” Before his speech was cut off by the sight on the holo.
The enormous Spire of Winter was opening an equally large hangar bay in it’s underbelly, and truly like a shark giving birth, out popped another ship, more in design like a scarab beetle, but still stretching atleast 6 kilometres in length; easily classified as a Super-Dreadnought.
Mykos began to nervously laugh at this, “God… even their ship has an Arcturus sized beetle inside it, we should thank our stars that they don’t want to fight us.” A the end of this statement, eight other ships popped out of the Spire of Winter, but this time they were far more reasonable in size, being only around seven hundred meters in length, but yet again with a radically different design, even resembling SSV Vehicles almost.
Each ship seemed to tilt about in different directions before they opened the same bluish-orange portals seen earlier and disappearing into them before any of the Sigurd’s crew could react. Fuu muttered, “No back-blast from their portals huh?” before waiting.
2157 CE, Shanxi-Theta Mass Relay
Forthencho walked about the bridge, analysing reports popping rapidly across the command console, as he spoke “Status on that fifteen kilometer railgun?”
Admiral Rainer responded, “Sir, while the SSV Sigurd and it’s… humans provided us their logs on it, nothing on it seems to indicate that it is like they say, 50000 years old, the San’Shyuum scientists we had went and examined it and confirmed that the time-lock it is enclosed in is very similar to their tech, if a bit less advanced.”
Forthencho nodded, his aged brows creasing, “And? How old is it actually?” to which Rainer grunted, “Several hundred million years seems to be the working estimate by the Science Division. That means that these so-called “Protheans” did not built it, so either we’re dealing with a Forerunner artifact from this Reality, it’s Precursor, or it’s another different ancient race.”
Forthencho’s ears twitched at this, which was a physical ability not many humans possessed, his eyes continued to muse this development before he spoke, “Whatever they are, they seem to be atleast a degree more advanced than the Protheans, and far ahead of our counterparts in this reality.”
Yprin strided right in front of him as he continued, hardly even lifting his gaze to acknowledge her “Have you analysed their genome? Why are they so primitive? Did we lose the war here as well?”
Yprin shook her head “No, it would seem they never advanced in their equivalent time-period, their development was seemingly just fore-stalled for unknown reasons. They do however have records of using similar glyphs like our Unified, they term it Cuneiform, utilized by their ‘ancient’ civilizations.”
She continued, her fists balling, “That, or it is possible the Forerunners somehow erased the geological records completely of a ‘pre-historic’ human civilization here such that we cannot spot if they’ve been tampered with or no.”
In a sapphire haze she revolved around Forthencho, a habit that he had grown used to, “I would hazard they’re at roughly Tier 3 on the advancement scale, there is no such concept of the Mantle exists here, but a vide variety of faiths have grown accordingly all the same. Their AI development is poor, perhaps hamstrung by the Protheans, whose archives left behind a distaste of AI.”
At this, one of the ship-bound Servitors, Arjhar spoke up, “You would think they would realise the value of us sooner or later, but I did dig around and find that they had issues with ‘generative AI’ during their early 21st Century, resulting in sweeping legislation heavily regulating development in this field. Oh, there does seem to be this one… country named Romania which owns more advanced AI architecture… interesting.”
Arjhar continued, his avatar of a man riding a mammoth revolving around Yprin, who herself was still pacing the floor near Forthencho, “Tier 3 is a generous estimate in my opinion, they have no access to Slipspace nor any energy shielding or energy weapons, but their Mineral Zero derived FTL is fascinating all the same, somehow being able to travel at FTL in real-space is astounding! But it topping out at only 10 lightyears a day is a significant security threat. Forget the Spire, one of our Frigates could hamstring their entire infrastructure before they had adequate time to react; courtesy of the new drives.”
Yprin nodded at this, “Yes, lack of Slipspace is an incredible challenge, but their primary means of travel are those Relays, and that means they haven’t spent the time developing in worlds in the Eridani systems, or Nov Thasta, or anywhere we were in; rather they spent time hopping freely between Relays and colonizing worlds adjacent to those. For whatever reason, whoever placed these Relays seems to predominantly place them in systems containing habitable worlds.”
Forthencho grumbled, “So they’ve been building wide, and poorly, rather than tall. I suppose it makes sense to them if they hadn’t run into any security threats at all…” before his field of vision snapped to an Slipspace Communication notification.
He tapped it, it was from the Frigate dispatched to Qom Yaekesh, and in-turn Janjur Qom, and a de-helmeted Commander Tramnt was on screen, in a lush jungle, “Lord of Admirals, as you can see… we’re groundside on Janjur Qom. No Mass Relays were in this system, and we rotated around and found there were none in each system within a thirty light year radius sphere before we landed groundside.”
Forthencho waited with baited breath, wondering if they had found native San’Shyuum here as well. Tramnt’s face seemed to convulse with multiple emotions before he whispered, “This place is like someone’s memory of a Planet, and the memory is fading. It’s like there was never anything here but un-tamed jungle. There are no San’Shyuum here, but the atmosphere is still perfectly breathable to my kind, and the ecology still contains animals and plants we lived with… it is strange.”
Yprin seemed to quiver at this, “That…”; whatever her statement was, it was forestalled, for another report came, this time from the Stealth Frigate sent to Erda, the vid-feed from Commander Sefar only displayed their home planet, Earth as the SSV called it.
Forthencho’s voice cracked for the first time since their arrival in this reality, for even if he did not believe it to be the birthplace of Humanity, there was something about that lonely speck of light in the cosmic dark, that pale blue dot that brought forth great emotions in anyone who viewed it.
Sefar spoke, “Lord of Admirals, we did a pulse scan of the system, no signs of any Forerunner technology, nor ours. Just the Systems Alliance, this Relay, and the Prothean Cache on Maruje… Mars.”
Forthencho nodded, “Acknowledged, pull out of the system, head to Eridani, I want you to check Eridani 2.”
More reports came flooding in right after:
“Sir, Maethrillian is not here, nothing but an empty system with a lonely Sun, not even a Mass Relay.”
“Ghibalb is missing. It’s moons are present, as are the rest of the planets, but the world itself is gone. No Mass Relay is present in the System.”
“Heian is just jungle, none of the statues are here. No Mass Relay is present in the System. ”
“Sir, some scattered large-scale stone structures are in Castle Juash, but nothing indicating that it was Humans who built it, there are a species of Tier 7 sapient insectoids who live on the smallest continent however; far away from the stone structures. No Mass Relay is in the System.”
“Eridani II is fully habitable, pulse scans indicate no Forerunner or Human structures on the Planet. Nor on Eridani III. No Mass Relay is present in the system.”
“We’re in Vertuss, there’s a Tier 5 species of Avianoids here, and no Forerunner or Human structures, over. There is a Mass Relay in the system.”
“In Palakesh, there are some strange nano-laminate skyscrapers on the planet’s surface; no inhabitants in them but we can’t immediately determine their origin nor age, we’ll bring a sample back for study. No Mass Relay is present in the System.”
“We’re in the Urs-fied-Joori system, the Forerunner protectorate world of Sanghelios is here, and the Sangheili are present, with roughly a foot into Tier 4 with some space telescopes and a few orbiting space stations. No Mass Relay is present in the System nor any non-native technology. They don’t seem to have a unified global government so to speak, but there is a loose coalition of clans that essentially governs the world; different continents of Sangheili seem to express slightly different phenotypes as well. From what we perused of their history, they’ve been at peace for a couple hundred years, we’ll be placing a satellite to monitor their planet Sir.”
Processing all the information, Forthencho finally spoke, “Something is amiss with the states of Ghibalb and Janjur Qom, but we cannot accurately come to a conclusion as to the past of this Galaxy. All of the Frigates are ordered to return to the Spire ASAP. Our immediate matter of discussion until the Argent reports back from Charum Hakkor is how we deal with the Systems Alliance.”
Forthencho banged his hand lightly on the table, “Daowa-Maad, we cannot uplift them, it would go against the Mantle, and would just be akin to what the Forerunners did. They would be none the wise if we just jumped away; we would be regarded as the first species they ever ran into; who destroyed an uninhabited moon and then melted away into the night.”
Yprin banged the table back at this, “We cannot abandon them; they are already being led astray by this… Mass Effect Technology, forcing them down an avenue of technological development that is not natural to the flow and ebbing of development that should be. Whoever built the relays cannot be purely benevolent, for clearly something happened to the Protheans, we need to safeguard them at the very minimum even if we do not provide them with any technology.”
Forthencho stared back, the bile in his throat building, for indeed the agenda of the Relay builders was unknown, “If need be we can always conduct a shadow war on their behalf if they come under threat, it is not our responsibility to hand-hold them is it?”
Yprin stared at him long and hard, before speaking with the force of a thousand suns in her voice, “They are indeed our responsibility, we are them, they are us, they’re all we have left. It is our responsibility to raise our children, Forthencho, and they are just that, children.”
Forthencho gazed back, equally hard, before sighing, “You shall get your way in this matter Yprin”, as he sent a video communication request to the SSV Sigurd, which was accepted in mere moments.
The Captain on-board the ship was all smiles as the video droned in on both sides, before he actually processed what he was seeing, that is : other humans, and the San’Shyuum XO on the bridge, Art Dazto. He stammered “I… uh, other humans and… ? I’m… sorry, but I’m not exactly equipped to… I am Captain Sunan Fuu…”
Forthencho gave him a forlorn smile before speaking, “Fear not child. I am Forthencho Oborune, Lord of Admirals of the Concordance of Human Republics. It is no surprise you do not know of us; we are from a time long past… remnants of a broken history tens of thousands of years dead. But make no mistake, we are human, and we offer our hand unto yours, for you to accept your legacy.”
Before Captain Fuu could respond, a priority notification came in, the final Report. With a wave of his hand, Forthencho spoke to Fuu, “One second o Captain… while I understand the magnitude of what I have told you… something of equal magnitude has been sprung on us, and so I must beseech you to wait a bit longer.”
Fuu was even more perplexed to this, but in a credit to his training, he remained stoic, nodding and disconnecting the feed on his end while he processed everything that had been said to him.
Momentarily turning off the feed with Captain Fuu on his end as well, Forthencho pulled up the report from the Argent to the side, allowing the young feminine voice of it’s Commander : Brigt Ambanitore to fill the whisper-quiet bridge of the Spire.
“Sir… we are in Nov Thastha… Ben Nauk, Sothra Hakkor and Faun Hakkor are all present and fully habitable. There is no Mass Relay in a five hundred light year sphere around the System… we ensured that we thoroughly scanned all of it so our location could not be compromised before we sent our report back.”
Forthencho nodded at this, a tiny proud smile appearing on his aged face, for this was exactly what his soldiers should do, observe procedures beyond that they followed during their war with the Forerunners, even if they were now somewhere far away… beyond time and space. But he did not miss the ever so small tone of panic that underlined her voice as she continued.
“But… Charum Hakkor is, it is Charum Hakkor, it is present… it is here, and covered with the same neural-physic alloy cities that we always knew of. But there is no sign of human inhabitation.”
It would seem, that this Milky Way was as unknowable as theirs… as unknowable as ever, and much like Captain Fuu, they too did not have answers for the information they had received. Forthencho stilled his breath, before looking at the feed with Fuu again, motioning for a second connection; for the matter of Charum Hakkor would come tomorrow… for what they needed to deal with immediately… was how to reconnect with their children.