Naggarok's Children [Archive]

The Reflection

4th Oct 01, 5:37 PM

Prologue
Despair
The greatest enemy is the self. How much I have seen this…in the Daiamid, the Council, in the visions of the Naggarok launchers I have had, in Outside…and myself.
Tasiin Limandatt’sa

The destroyers set out from their home galaxy, spreading like a cancer. Their advanced trans-hyperdrives carried them along in the currents of the higher spaces. The destroyers venerated hyperdrive, and in return it sang to them, elevating them to holiness. The destroyers had the mandate of their heaven.
As they spread out among the galaxies, the destroyers crushed all in their path; all who may defile their holiness. The impure fought valiantly, but it was futile against the destroyers. And when the destroyers tried to touch the holiest place so that they may spread to other universes, they found that the holiest place’s guardian rejected them, deeming them unworthy. After recovering from their initial anger, the destroyers became even more determined to prove themselves worthy. The destroyers purified their galactic cluster, and with no pause, fared farther afield. Their quest in front of them and holiness behind them, the destroyers pushed ahead.
Confident of their purity and their destiny, the destroyers did not notice as the first of the purified galaxies began to fade out. Slowly, silence consumed the inner worlds. The destroyers still felt the guidance of the first world, the core’s pulse rippling gentle waves on the sea of stars that carried the destroyers. And so they went on.

The children awakened and found themselves scattered within the galaxy. The children, left with vague memories of the joy of star travel and the pride of unity, began exploring, seeking out themselves. Often, the children would stumble or fight each other; the children would rise and fall.
Shakily, though, the children began to establish some order, standing up into an indifferent universe.
But all children must someday grow up.
The first to rise was one who had turned away from the other children, pulled on all sides to and away from the others. He rose high, far beyond the others, far beyond even the ancestors, and went so far as to overthrow the most powerful one of all – spoken in whispers among the oldest, known only as Outside. But when the first one had the opportunity to rise higher, he rejected his power and fell back to the other children.
The brief incident, however, had called the ancestors back.
The children continued to live their lives, wary of the ancestors. As the centuries and millennia passed, though, the maturing children knew that they must become adults, as if hearing the soft footsteps of the returning ancestors. They began to stand as one, despite their differences and stood proud over their galaxy.
Twelve and a half millennia after the defeat of Outside, the band of children – young adults by now – would have to face their destroyer ancestors.

1
Falling Stars
For over twelve thousand four hundred years, we have known that our common ancestors, the launchers of the ship called the Naggarok, wreaked destruction across the universe. For over twelve thousand four hundred years, we have known that our ancestors would return, angered by the destruction of Outside and its consequences for trans-hyperspace. For twelve thousand four hundred years, we have been preparing for the day when we must confront our ancestors.
We believed that we had more time. We believed that we could cheat death. We believed that…
Six hours ago, reports from I’ao, Kalsa, and X’n worlds came in. They described large fleets of ships hyperspacing in with large energy signatures. The ships were equipped with powerful beam weapons and trans-hyperdrive. They are not of any known race. Their trans-hyperdrives bear similarities to the Naggarok, as do the ship designs. Intercepted signals bear many similarities to the Naggarok’s beacon pod message. Attempts at communication failed. The battle telemetry shows they were not stopped by planetary defenses.
The time has come.

Presiding Delegate Takell of the Hiigarans
Emergency Galactic Council meeting on
Imminent Massive War with Ancestral Race
GSY 22355.5 (12471.1 AHL)

The holographic map of the Galaxy pinwheeled above the representatives in the Council chambers. Ghostly gray light emanated from the core and the spiral arms that swept outwards, faintly lighting the room. On one side of the Galaxy, though, a deep red infringed on one of the spiral arms, like a monster eating into the majesty of the Galaxy.
Delegate Kaltar of the Zaala looked at the display with a sort of distant grief on that particular day. On the surface, nothing had changed from the Zaala perspective since the war started; Kaltar knew that the red glow of destruction was a distance away from the Zaala worlds near the Galactic Core. His people had time to prepare. Kaltar knew he had to remain calm, analyze the situation, support the Zaala Elder and the Hiigarans. He resolved to do this.
…Yet deep inside, Kaltar could not help but flinch at the Galaxy’s scarred face. For the past month, he had seen the red glow expand, and he did not feel other than a grim fascination. But this time…
Somehow Kaltar grasped the meaning of the sickly glow; of the death it meant. He remembered losing Latal…and could imagine it happening again and again and again, millions of times for each maroon dot in the red glow.
Presiding Delegate Takell began to speak again. His voice radiated from the center of the chambers, the place of the Hiigarans for three millennia. It always seemed to quiet even the Unbound, yet it never seemed distant. Perhaps even when becoming the most powerful race in the Galaxy, thought Kaltar, their bodies and minds had changed but their innermost spirits were untouched. They had, after all, returned from the Exile gloriously as the ancient Zaala prophecies had said.
“This is the current status of the war” stated Delegate Takell. Takell’s face was tired; his holographic projection’s face, usually calm and knowing, wore a dark, inscrutable expression. “We estimate 10% of the Galaxy’s volume has fallen to the Naggarok launchers, as well as 4% of the population and 6% of the fleets. We know little about them, although we think we have a name – B’qula, perhaps B’kila – virtually nothing is known about their culture. Four hundred seventy six worlds have fallen, another two hundred twenty one have seemingly disappeared. The Sh’kel lost their homeworld today; the I’ao have lost virtually all over their territory, and their fleets are fleeing the area. Hiigaran attempts to hold back the…B’qula have failed.” Takell looked up at the display, as if he was unable to bear seeing the gazes of the races under the Hiigarans, like a father unable to tell his children he failed. His voice became quiet. “We believe we are losing this war. Strategic projections place the defeat of the Galaxy…of everything we have fought for over the millennia…in one to one and a half year. Two years, at most.”
The Council became quiet again. All looked up at the Galaxy that silently rotated above them. Kaltar heard very soft weeping from one of the delegates.
“There is still time yet,” the Bentusi said. The voice floated out from near the center of the vast room, where the Unbound represented themselves not by delegates but by holographic symbols.
“Naturally.”
The new voice also came from the center of the room. Kaltar recognized it as of the T-Mat. The T-Mat who had opened fire on the ship he and Latal were on four years before, claiming it was for the greater good… He managed to hold back his resentment.
“What do you mean by that?” asked a delegate of one of the Bound races, the K’nal’deq, who were in virtual exile from the wrath of the Naggarok launchers. The question was laced with hostility.
The T-Mat seemed to sigh with the voice of a million worlds. “The Bound do not understand. They never understand patience.”
The representative of the K’nal’deq spoke again, nearly screaming at the T-Mat. “We are dying! How can we have patience? Do you not understand that-“
“We understand. We understand far better than you can know,” the T-Mat replied, their deep, powerful voices mirroring the K’nal’deq delegate’s own rage.
“Perhaps we should contemplate what we can do-” the Bentusi began.
“The Bound squander our time,” the T-Mat interjected. “They can defend themselves.”
“How dare you-“
“Quiet.” Takell’s voice echoed across the Council, cutting into the hearts of the listeners. “Your arguments do nothing for you and everything for our enemy.” Takell, still looking at the Galaxy, paused. He quietly added, “…And we are looking at the possibilities.”
“What possibilities?” demanded the T-Mat.
“The Galaxy is very old and very large. We are looking for allies, among the few not in the Council. There are relics drifting among the stars. In the Council’s history, a few worlds have disappeared…the one of the Tarl’tkinsa for one.”
“We hear nothing from there. All of the Unbound avoid their star system. No one returns,” the Bentusi warned.
Takell turned to face the representation of the Bentusi. “We have.” The Unbound did not answer. Kaltar could somehow tell they were awed by the Hiigarans – or they didn’t believe them. “At least, from their star system. We haven’t neared their homeworld…yet.”
“You went to the Tarl system?” asked the T-Mat, seemingly amused. “Do you not also claim to have launched fleets into the B’qula home galaxy?”
“We have,” Takell stated somberly.
The T-Mat remained silent once again.
An arc stretched across the display of the Galaxy, from a point midway to the core in a spiral arm out to – the edge of the display.
“We believe that the Naggarok effectively traced a course like this,” Takell said. The display zoomed out, the Galaxy shrinking as the other galaxies drifted into view. The other endpoint of the Naggarok’s path resolved – the outer rim of a somewhat irregular, small, elliptical galaxy.
“We believe that is their home galaxy.”
“You have sent ships there,” stated the T-Mat, as if trying to convince themselves it was true.
“Some.”
“What have you found?”
The display zoomed in, this time on the B’qula home galaxy.
“It is…We have sent only small fleets over the past few centuries, mainly for exploration. Many of the worlds seem to have lost star travel. There is no order there. It has fallen far farther than we have.
“The Naggarok launchers also seem to be interested, from what we can tell from the fleets still there. We believe that this much of that galaxy has fallen to them.”
The outer portions of the home galaxy dimmed, glowing with the disturbing red light that haunted Kaltar.
“We believe…we may have found an ally. They call themselves the ‘Bitalq’. They are Bound with simple hyperdrives and a small fleet.”
“What use are they of?” asked another Unbound representative, the Turanics.
“Their language seems to be related to that of the B’qula from the very little we know of it. They believe in a quest, like our enemy; they worship hyperspace; both they and the enemy share many similar religious elements. However, they are pacifistic. They think they can talk to the B’qula and convince them to stop. They are willing to represent us. They will have their chance soon – the B’qula are nearing their homeworld. This may be our only hope.”
The display faded out, replaced by the scarred, familiar Galaxy. Kaltar gazed at it, watching as one more pinpoint – a populated world – turned red, like a dying ember. How many were lost with that one? Kaltar saw the delegate of the Varnerians being escorted out.
This is insanity.
But then again, it has been insanity ever since Latal died.
This is simply…hopelessness.

“The situation on our homeworld is stable for now,” Elder Zetal of the Kel clan stated. “Ironically, our fleet and production are growing. A few of us...can’t seem to deal with the situation. They just…detach. The rest of us try to go on…”
“The Enemy is 37,000 light years from here. The Council believes we have six months before homeworld falls,” Kaltar replied.
“Yes. We have time…” Zetal looked away from Kaltar. “But there are 125 million of us, the Zaala. We can save some, before they come, yes, but the others… We are all doing our best; we’re all trying to cope as well as we can. You may be lucky. Delegate Kaltar. You are already among the stars, safe…”
“No one is safe, Elder. Every day I see more worlds fall, more races perish. I see the display of the Galaxy that shows the Enemy coming closer. So much death every day.”
“In your report to the Great Elder, you said the Hiigarans have been working on some possibilities – forming alliances, finding lost worlds, and journeying to the Enemy’s home galaxy. Maybe they can slow down the Enemy.”
If Zetal was trying to comfort Kaltar at all, it wasn’t working.
“Somehow I don’t think even the great Hiigarans can save us this time.”
“The Hiigarans returned to us in a time of our most desperate need, when the ancient Empire threatened to enslave us a second time. Their grace so overwhelmed the empire that Great Elder Lakil could lead us on to the first star systems. When the spawn of Outside threatened us, their fleets held back the monster before it could touch us. And it was a Hiigaran – Tasiin the Defeater of Outside – who slayed Outside itself. The Hiigarans soared above the Unbound, and unified the Council. Our protectors have always prevailed.”
“Yes.”
“Did you read over our requests and offers for the Hiigarans?”
“I did.”
“Good. The Great Elder proclaimed that the data on the derelict vessels will be of immense use to them.
“To the Zaala and the Kel clan. Homeworld out.” The image flickered out of existence.
Delegate Kaltar paced around, and then went back to the screen.
“Contact Delegate Takell of the Hiigarans.”
It took a few moments, and then a distracted Takell appeared before Kaltar. Takell wore a distant expression; his head was turned away at an angle. Takell’s eyes looked at him, although they would occasionally glance away.
“Delegate Takell. Greetings. We the Zaala have a proposal that will aid in your quest to find derelict ships. We would be pleased to provide all of our knowledge to you.”
Takell looked at Kaltar sadly. “Delegate Kaltar, I know you, the Zaala, are trying to be helpful. Unfortunately there is…At this moment, I am also talking to all of the other Unbound races as well as two dozen Bound races. We are having trouble doing this much…I am afraid we cannot always be with you.”
Kaltar could see Takell’s underlying message. We are on our own.
“I know your race has been helpful to us…I could appoint someone to listen to you, represent you in urgent times…We are few…I could spare one – she is young, new to the Council.”
“As long as she can represent us when needed, we would be grateful for whoever you can spare,” said Kaltar.
Takell nodded. “Your delegate’s name is Sannel. She is inexperienced…to be honest, she probably longs to be delegate to the Unbound instead of you. Think of her…as my protégé. In a few centuries, Sannel will be a fine delegate to the Council…”
Kaltar finished Takell’s sentence in his mind. In the unlikely chance that we survive that long.
“I thank you – the Zaala thank your people for whatever you have to offer to us, Presiding Delegate Takell.”
“Stand by while we connect you.”
Takell’s head bowed, and then the holographic image of Takell faded out.
After a brief pause, a new image appeared before Kaltar.
“Delegate Sannel, correct?” Kaltar forced out.
Sannel was…young. Delegate Kaltar was middle age; Takell represented himself as older, yet calm and wise. Sannel still seemed to be emerging from the grasp of adolescence. Her expression told of a youthful arrogance. Sannel did not make the pretense of standing, but rather seemed to be sitting – in mid-air.
“Yes,” she replied. “Does something about me bother you?” The question felt to Kaltar as if it was deliberate pointed.
Kaltar forced himself to say nothing about her age, or at least the age she represented herself as. He did notice that her skin was quite paler than Takell’s – probably some Kadeshi ancestry a generation or two back. More importantly, her clothing was a distinctive silver and blue.
“You are Limandatt?”
“Yes,” Sannel replied, apparently delightfully surprised. Kaltar was a bit surprised that the Hiigarans, the ones of Kharakian descent at least, even kept track of their kiithid after so long. Then again, the Zaala had kept their intricate system of clan and kindred and family after so long, he reminded himself. “Helps to have Outside-defeaters in the ancestry.” Sannel smiled.
Kaltar simply nodded.
“I was told that the Zaala had information on derelict ships.”
“Yes. We would wish to negotiate the release of this information.”
“Of course. Always time for negotiations when the Galaxy is burning.”
Kaltar sighed. Sannel was too young for this, or at least acted too young.
Although, who said that the Unbound, or the Hiigarans, at least, don’t have children? Kaltar thought. He knew he was exaggerating – Sannel, although young and inexperienced, probably wasn’t a child. How do I think they gain experience? he asked himself. Even Takell was once like Sannel…centuries ago. And she did have a point – he couldn’t ask for too much.
“We simply ask for the protections you have extended to other races. Later, we can settle on something else, if anything.”
“Ah.”
“Now, shall we discuss the derelict vessels in Zaala territory?”
“Naturally,” Sannel answered. She seemed a little uninterested, but Kaltar decided not to concern himself with that. Suddenly, however, Sannel flinched.
“What was it?”
“I presume that even the Bound have heard of the Bitalq? There was an alert – the Enemy has entered their home system.”
“If the Bitalq fall, then our one chance with negotiating with the Enemy may disappear.”
“Why do the Bound always state the obvious?”
Kaltar again ignored her flippancy.
“We do not have much time to waste. Let’s talk about the derelicts.”

2
K’Basal
When we fight, the songs of Dlak reveal sadness. When we carry out death in its name, it distances itself from us. When we attack those who hear it to protect our mandate, we have already lost the mandate.
Those who fail these worlds will prove them true.
The songs of Dlak will one day reveal infinite sadness as the Guardians and the Children fight and precipitate the dark rain onto our trembling world.

Bital-Nagok Shel
Bitalq holy work

The Hiigaran fleet soared through trans-hyperspace, racing from their hiding place among one of the neighboring systems of the Bitalq system towards the homeworld itself – K’Basal. The ships listened for signals in the void, but nothing from the Bitalq had been heard since their initial distress call. With a strange silence among the ships in the fleet, the sleek ships of the fleet pushed forward.

“The songs of Dlak call out to you and haunt you as they do us. We could not harm those who hear it. Listen with us.”
The B’qula fleet approached, coasting towards K’Basal and the small, token Bitalq gathering of ships orbiting their world. The Bitalq fleet, made up of ships from diminutive support vessels to long, massive ships that carried thousands, made no move, almost as if not minding the B’qula presence at all. In a way, the B’qula fleet was approaching serenely, as if wishing to converse with the Bitalq.
For seconds, the B’qula were silent, as if they were grasping a difficult concept. The Bitalq patiently waited, letting their message be absorbed. There was calmness between the two fleets for endless seconds.
Finally, the B’qula replied, uncertainly at first but gaining strength as they went along, “The T’Bkula taint D’lact. Their noise drowns out the songs of the holy places. They cannot hold the beauty of D’lact. We will not let them touch D’lact. We must continue on our Quest.”
“All quests have more than one path to take,” the Bitalq responded with a strange calmness. Again, the B’qula were silent, absorbing what the Bitalq were saying. “Spread the holiness of Dlak to all. Many can hear the songs of Dlak-“
“…The Impure taint D’lact with their noise. Their incessant chatter will drown out D’lact. We cannot, must not let that happen-”
“No. Yet they can learn to appreciate. They already listen. They carry within them a glimmer of holiness, which all have. They only must learn to appreciate the glorious songs of hyperspace-”
Suddenly, the B’qula’s calmness disappeared. “The Tala’Bkula understand nothing.”
The B’qula fleet slowly advanced on the Bitalq ships, like a child testing the limits of a parent. The Bitalq ships made no motion, almost as if the B’qula fleet did not exist.
The weapon systems of the B’qula ships began to activate. The approaching fleet did not move into position to attack yet, still hesitant.
The Bitalq spoke again.
“There is a-“
-The Hiigaran fleet emerged from the blue-white glow of hyperspace behind the B’qula fleet. The Bitalq never were able to voice their plea. The B’qula ships spun around with alarming maneuverability.
“You have called in the Tala’Bkula!”
“The Hiigarans show potential-“
But the B’qula would not listen. They moved to intercept the new threat, leaving the Bitalq behind. Fighters quickly arranged themselves into formation. The B’qula fleet closed in on the approaching Hiigarans.

“This is Hiigaran carrier Kal-Terum to Bitalq fleet. The B’qula are breaking off to attack us. Move your ships to a safer position. Prepare to jump to hyperspace. Save yourselves while we engage the B’qula.”
The captain of the carrier Kal-Terum felt the other crew of the carrier wait, as well as the impatient thoughts of the fleet. She joined her thoughts with the crew, acting as coordinator, twining the minds with the song of the ship. The ship stirred, ready.
The B’qula fleet approached quickly. The captain knew that if it entered weapons range, the Hiigarans would be fighting an uphill battle.
So better to even the odds now.
Fire siege cannon, the captain thought, hearing the command echoing among other carriers and cruisers in the fleet. The undersides of the sleek carriers and cruisers launched globes of plasma into the incoming ships. The orbs raced outwards, almost as if in formation, rushing into the B’qula fleet. The B’qula ships had little time to react as the orbs slipped in among them. The siege cannon shots detonated, shock waves radiating outwards. For a moment, the fleet was quiet with hope.
The captain watched with the ship’s sensors as the brief, initial glow from the shots faded. A sense of fear welled up in the ship, spilling over to the crew.
B’qula Fighters and one Frigate were destroyed, a few more damaged. Multiple Frigates and a pair of ships identified as Destroyers closed in on the Hiigaran fleet quickly. Some Fighters escaped damaged and were now racing into weapons range.
Kharak help us.
The B’qula fleet opened fire.

Sannel.
Takell’s voice destroyed the quiet in the Galactic Core near Hiigara. Sannel was slightly annoyed, now having to talk to Takell as well as the Bound delegate, but she decided that she was in no position to ignore Takell.
What is it? she asked, somewhat sighing.
We are receiving telemetry from K’Basal.
After Takell did not complete the thought, Sannel asked, And?
Takell did not answer immediately. I want you to watch it. I want you to understand what we are against.
I think I already know what we are fighting, Sannel replied.
After a pause, Takell answered, I don’t think you do.
Sannel really did sigh this time. Show it to me then, if you insist.

The silvery-white glow of B’qula ion cannons lashed out. They filled the space between the B’qula and Hiigaran ships like a lacy web, trying to catch the Hiigaran vessels.
The captain of the Kal-Terum could feel the ship’s first wave of pain as the beams tore into the carrier. The wailing of the other ships echoed across the fleet.
Return fire. Advance on the B’qula fleet. Target the capital ships.
Hiigaran fighters pushed ahead. The glow of their beams focused on the B’qula capital ships, bathing them in brilliant bluish light. The Hiigaran fighters circled their targets, attempting to evade the silver-white light of B’qula weapons.
The Kal-Terum felt several anomalies nearby, reporting the information to the captain. B’qula Fighters raced to the Kal-Terum, firing their weapons at the carrier. The ship was confused for long moments at their sudden appearance, even somewhat frightened.
Inertialess drives, the captain and crew finally deduced. The captain spent time, too long, calming the ship, assuring that all would be all right. When the ship recovered, it fired its point-defense ion cannons at the fighters that swarmed and glowed with the ghostly glow, a shadow of hyperdrive. Despite the defenses, though, the Fighters seemed to be damaged by a hit and not destroyed. The captain began expending more and more effort, telling the ship to simultaneously destroy the fighters and advance on the capital ships, giving multiple and intricate commands a second.
What are we fighting? the ship asked, its song becoming troubled.
The captain did not answer.

Sannel watched the battle unfold. An unnamable discomfort settled upon her as she watched. She felt both attracted and repelled by the battle. She wanted to defy Takell, turn it off, to flee to hyperspace, to set out into the universe to a galaxy not beset by the B’qula. Yet, Sannel somehow knew that she must watch the battle.
Sannel quickly realized it was not the battle, even as a flash of light marked the position of what once was a Hiigaran frigate. It was something else…
Indeed, the Hiigarans were now moving on the offence, with some chance of victory possible. In a way, the Hiigaran fleet seemed glorious, or at least noble, as the sleek ships fired upon the B’qula, blue ion cannons arcing into enemy frigates. The carriers were slowly thinning out the swarms of fighters. Deep inside, she was even proud of the Hiigarans with this display of resolve against far more advanced entities.
But that didn’t make Sannel feel any more comfortable. The whole situation was wrong. She could not name it…but Sannel could not shake the feeling that things would turn far worse by the end.

The captain felt the fleet focus its ion cannon fire on one B’qula frigate. For a few seconds, the Frigate was illuminated in intense blue-white light. The vessel was sent spinning, its smooth, grey-white surface marred and twisted.
Before the fleet could enjoy its victory, the B’qula fleet rearranged itself quickly, a wall of Frigates and a Destroyer forming. They each pointed themselves at a Hiigaran cruiser. The captain watched them carefully.
Suddenly, the starlight behind the Cruiser burst apart, refracted into a hundred images. Colorful light and ghost images danced around the Cruiser. The stars were smeared into dazzling spectra, almost beautifully. The captain shook the thought of beauty from what the B’qula were doing. At a closer look, reality itself seemed to be vibrating there. The captain could see through the ship’s sensors what looked like thin, pale fingers of light emanating out of the B’qula fleet, intersecting at the Cruiser. The ship’s readings of it were difficult to analyze, although the crew decided it was a beam of focused gravity waves.
The Cruiser seemed to twist under the onslaught, simultaneously repulsed and attracted, stretched and contracted on the sides.
It had lasted only a second. But the Cruiser had been left slowly spinning, venting plasma all over its hull. Dark, twisted holes gashed the Hiigaran vessel. It was a shell of its former self. A formation of B’qula fighters dived towards the Cruiser, their white beams raking the Cruiser until it finally broke apart into several fragments.
The fleet became silent once again. The only thing the captain could hear over the background noise of activity was the Kal-Terum whimpering, almost silently.

“You seem distracted,” Kaltar said.
“Distracted,” Sannel repeated, as if unable to comprehend the thought. Her voice began to become angry. “Yes, I am merely watching the situation over K’Basal. It has only deteriorated to the point of our losing everything. But I shouldn’t let that distract me…after all, a leisurely conversation with you is far more important than the fate of the war.”
“You do not have to put an edge on every word you say,” Kaltar replied.
“You do not have to get the last word.”
“Neither do you. If you want to go, go.”
Sannel sat there, looking at him coldly. Kaltar looked straight back at her.
For a moment, Kaltar could see that Sannel wasn’t angry at him, but…hurt, something disturbing her.
Sannel looked down as the holographic projection extended outwards, showing moving points of light, a planet in the background.
“Now, please, quiet. I need to think. Then we can talk about your derelicts all you want.”
Sannel seemed to be gazing at the image intently, as if she was plotting something.
For the moment, though, Kaltar decided to simply watch the battle.

The Kal-Terum expressed wonder. The B’qula fleet was turning away from the Hiigarans, back towards the planet. It was as if the B’qula were retreating. The battered Hiigaran fleet regrouped, trying to arrange itself back into formation. Small groups of Hiigaran fighters followed the B’qula fleet at a distance.

Sannel watched the B’qula retreat. Her uneasiness increased. There was something definitely wrong about it. For a moment, she tried to contain her worry, but she found that suppressing her feelings went against the very core of her being.
Takell, she called out.
Yes?, replied the distant voice of Takell.
Can you…contact…the fleet?
There is a lag period in the transmission because-
Spare me the physics. Just-
She felt Takell growing impatient.
What is it, Sannel? Takell finally demanded.
Sannel struggled to find words. Do not…let the B’qula retreat. I know…there’s something wrong about it.
Fighters show that the B’qula is not attacking…
Sannel did not listen to the rest of his reply. She caught a fleeting image in her mind, one that haunted her deeply. It was unclear – two orange flowers blooming over K’Basal – but it chilled her nevertheless.
Takell- she finally began.
It was too late.
Sannel could only watch as a small object, barely more than points of light, darted out of the B’qula Destroyers. The points arced down to K’Basal fading with distance. For a moment, there was nothing.
She wanted to say something, but could now find absolutely no words.
Then, suddenly, two flashes of light lit up the planet. Yellow-orange light radiated from the points, massive winds sweeping across the planet. Roiling black clouds billowed out of the impact points as the atmosphere turned opaque with ash and dust. The firestorms spread, blossoming like flowers out of the ashes of a dying world.
Sannel had heard of the legend of Kharak’s burning. Like all Hiigarans, she had watched the ancient recording of the event when she was young. It had seemed to be something of an earlier, less civilized time.
But this – she had just seen a world burned before her. How many had died in that first agonizing moment, as she was just realizing what was happening? How many were dying even now as she still watched the dark clouds smother the planet?
The sensor readings relayed to her showed the atmospheric temperature above the boiling point of water. Seismic waves radiated out of the impact points, triggering massive earthquakes at the boundaries of K’Basal’s tectonic plates. Sannel knew there was no chance of survival.
Takell…I understand what we are facing.
No reply.
Takell!
Sannel…watch. Someday the B’qula will come after even you. You must understand what you will be facing.
Takell, this isn’t a battle anymore – it’s a massacre. An atrocity. Genocide.”
Yes. Exactly. That is what you will be facing.
Takell-
Be calm, Sannel…calm.
Enough.
But Takell continued to send her the telemetry. Sannel tried to ignore it, but she found herself being drawn to it, unable to resist. Sannel watched.

The B’qula fleet was moving away from the Hiigaran ships rapidly. They glided over the raging firestorm on K’Basal. The B’qula formations closed in on the token Bitalq fleet. Silvery ion cannons slashed through the Bitalq ships. Flashes of light illuminated the Bitalq fleet, wreckage spinning off of derelict ship fragments.
“You are hurting us,” the Bitalq cried out. “Spare us. We listen to Dlak as you do.”
“You called in the Tala’Bkula. The Hiigarans are the Destroyers. They hear nothing of D’lact-”
The Hiigarans interrupted the B’qula. “Bitalq ships, jump to hyperspace! Save yourselves!”
There was a pause as the Bitalq craft attempted to jump to hyperspace, failing immediately.
“We cannot hear Dlak…It will not sing to us,” the Bitalq said with an almost infinite sadness.
Hiigaran ships arrived on the scene, firing their weapons at B’qula ships. Many B’qula vessels turned to fend off the returning threat, while a few others continued carving up Bitalq ships.
“You have silenced Dlak,” the Bitalq added in their melancholy voices.
The sensors indicated that some form of hyperspace inhibitor field surrounded the ships. The captain could tell that both the Bitalq and the Hiigarans faced massive losses.
Focus all weapons on the Destroyer ahead that is attacking Bitalq ships, the captain thought. Move to intercept.
Trying to…move…painful… the ship said. The captain knew it was experiencing pain far beyond anything it had encountered before. Outside, the battle was becoming frantic as the Hiigaran ships became desperate. A formation of B’qula fighters fired on the Kal-Terum, causing the ship to shudder in pain. Ahead, there was a large explosion – a Hiigaran Cruiser. Four B’qula Frigates coasted through the wreckage. To a side, the other Hiigaran Carrier slowly tumbled as it tried to push forth, scarred beyond recognition. The B’qula Destroyer ahead was unleashing its wrath on the flimsy Bitalq ships.
“Sing to us, Dlak,” the Bitalq pleaded. “Carry us away to safety.” Their ships moved quickly, away from the B’qula.
The Kal-Terum advanced on the Destroyer, blue ion cannons blazing.
“Protect us with your currents. Carry the few of us away from the Lost. Take us into your higher existence.”
The Kal-Terum began to collapse in pain as two B’qula Frigates attacked it. Only a little longer, the captain told it. Move us closer.
The B’qula Destroyer waved its silvery ion beams through another Bitalq ship.
“Let your song permeate us. We have served you for so long. Let us continue.”
The captain felt fluctuations in the vicinity as the Bitalq ships’ hyperdrives began to increase in energy enormously. Small variations appeared in the energy output of the B’qula fleet. The captain wanted to be on one of the Bitalq ships to understand what they were doing. The plea, the prayer continued to broadcast out of the Bitalq ships.
Both behind and ahead, explosions faintly lit up the Kal-Terum, flickers of light playing across the surface.
Prepare to fire the siege cannon, the captain ordered.
“Help us, Dlak. Sing to us. Protect us.”
Fire directly at the Destroyer!
The brilliant orb of plasma raced into the night. It soared into the B’qula ship, briefly illuminating it. Then, the globe radiated outward in a great display of light. The B’qula Destroyer spun, trying to reorient itself, revealing a deep gash across the side. The shockwave swept across the Kal-Terum, parts of the broken outer hull detaching. The ship shook under the pain.
“Sing to us!” the Bitalq pleaded.
Ahead, most of the Bitalq fleet lay as drifting fragments and derelicts. Perhaps three of the ships were still capable of a hyperspace jump. But the Kal-Terum was beyond hope.
Ram the Destroyer.
The broken carrier drifted forward from inertia, brief spasms of energy from the dying ship pushing it forward, the last of its ion cannons still firing into the Destroyer. The Destroyer, still recovering from the direct siege cannon hit, began to turn to fire, white ion beams cutting into the Carrier. Despite the infinite pain it surely felt, the ship gave one final pulse of energy for its Hiigaran masters, lurching ahead one last time.
“Help us.”
The Kal-Terum plowed into the Destroyer, shattering on impact. The Destroyer shuddered as the Hiigaran ship penetrated it, crushing its hull. The Destroyer broke apart as the tattered core of the Carrier sheared it apart.

“Sing!”
A blue-violet glow enveloped two Bitalq ships, one a long transport, the other a small support vessel. B’qula Fighters moved to catch them, coasting towards them, but the hyperspace windows slid along the Bitalq vessels, carrying them, the survivors of their race, to safety.

The B’qula fleet glided over the burned world of K’Basal. The Hiigaran ships floated in ruin. The B’qula ship arranged themselves quickly.
Then, amid the wreckage, the glow of hyperdrives carried them away.

Sannel floated among the stars of the galactic core, close to Hiigara. For a few moments, she did nothing to disturb the stillness.
When she saw K’Basal burn before her, she felt as if she had lost something. She knew the moment before it happen, that it would happen. She could have warned them earlier. She could have stopped it.
And she had failed them.
Wonderful. Now I am wallowing in self-pity, she sighed. Sannel distanced herself from everything, needing time to think.
“Leave me alone,” she told Kaltar. Kaltar did not answer. “Go away.”
Sannel closed the channel. She did not care what Takell did. Her ship then, with a word, jumped to hyperspace.

3
Souls of the Lost
What strange melodies haunt the Lost?
What do the Lost Dream about in their long enchantment?
What do they know that we cannot?
We can only imagine as the Lost drift in hyperspace, listening to songs we can never hear, their souls gone from us forever.

Natel Limandatt
Excerpted from Dreams of the Kaaltow
GSY 18240.8 (8476.3 AHL)

The ruddy orange light of the holographic projection faded out.
Kaltar could see the look of shock and despair on the other delegates’ faces. Even the Unbound seemed unusually somber. Kaltar was probably the least affected of them, and he had had the advantage of seeing the battle before.
“K’Basal was burned?” asked an incredulous delegate.
“Yes,” replied Takell sadly.
“But you said that the Bitalq are our only chance to negotiate with the B’qula!”
“We know,” replied Takell quietly.
“And…what are we supposed to do?”
Takell did not answer.
“We must wait.” the T-Mat stated simply, saying nothing more. The Bentusi did not bother to reply as they usually would. The delegate seethed, but did not try to argue with the T-Mat.
“Two ships escaped from K’Basal into hyperspace,” Takell said. “The B’qula quickly destroyed the other outposts in the system. Those two ships contain the remnants of their species. We believe they number about 11,900.”
The Galaxy still spiraled silently above the room, playing its ghostly light on the delegates as if nothing had happened. Yet the red scar of the B’qula still marred the Galaxy, and now a slight laceration extended from it.
“…Five of the remaining twelve Carriers in the B’qula home galaxy are escorting the Bitalq back to Council space. The remaining seven are dispersing and acting as scouts should the need arise…”
Kaltar found his attention drifting in and out of reality.
“We will…try to hold off the B’qula as long as possible. We…ask that you do the same. That is all.”
“That is all?” asked someone.
“Yes.”
“But…” the word echoed in the chamber.
“We will not abandon you,” Takell said, looking at the other. “But we cannot…we cannot be everywhere at once.”
He told me that yesterday, Kaltar thought. Just before introducing Sannel.
Inexplicably, the memory of Latal floated to him. Her warm smile, her bright eyes-
The delegates were leaving the chamber.
“Delegate Kaltar, I apologize for Sannel’s actions yesterday.”
Kaltar did not reply. There was nothing for him to say on the matter.
“We will find some way to deal with her…transgression.”
“Where is she?”
“Her ship left the Hiigaran system to third-level hyperspace. We will find her.”
“And if you don’t?” Kaltar asked.
Takell looked at him as if such a thing was impossible. “We will.
“If you wish, we can try to find someone less…impulsive to assist you.”
Kaltar thought about it. Perhaps someone else would be more efficient at helping him. Someone else would be less stubborn. Someone else would do what he needed.
But as Kaltar thought about it, he could not convince himself that Sannel deserved to be punished. At the very least, she could be useful in pointing out when the Zaala were asking for too much. Already, with such a brief encounter, she had done so.
And when Sannel had relayed the battle of K’Basal to him, Kaltar knew something was not quite right. She seemed uneasy, even fearful, if such a thing could be said of a Hiigaran. The burning of K’Basal shocked them both. He, in fact, was in no mood to speak afterwards, and neither was Sannel.
Sannel, he decided, would be a project. He would make her be less stubborn. Then, the Hiigarans would respect her. We are in no need of assistance, Kaltar thought. Let a delegate who really needs helps have someone else. And, perhaps by the time the Enemy reaches us, Sannel will help us, of her own will.
“No…that will not be necessary.”
“Are you sure? For once Takell seemed confused.
“Yes. In fact…try to be lenient on her, when you find her,” Kaltar found himself saying.
Takell nodded, and then his holographic projection disappeared.
Kaltar thought about how Latal would have approved of what he had done.
He shook himself and left the Council chambers.

Hyperspace sang to Sannel.
To her, the minds of others, their songs as the Unbound called them, did not sound like music at all. Instead, she heard them as soliloquies, nothing more. Only her ship’s thoughts ever approximated singing, besides hyperspace – sometimes the songs would accompany each other, creating a strange, beautiful melody.
The ship glided through trans-hyperspace, headed towards nowhere in particular.
How much farther? the ship asked.
Farther, Sannel replied.
You are trying to be Lost?
For a moment, Sannel was shocked by even the concept that her ship had said that. But it dawned on her that her ship had been quiet the whole time. She had said it to herself, unconsciously. Such a thought was wrong.
When she was only a few years old, newly Unbound, her father had told her about the Lost. Drifting in hyperspace, enchanted by its eternal song, disconnected with reality. Their ships glided in hyperspace, aimlessly, often until they ran out of fuel. Any Unbound entity could become Lost simply by listening to hyperspace. Sannel had been terrified by the stories and never wanted to enter hyperspace ever upon hearing it. In fact, she had been inconsolably afraid
of it for a long time. Eventually, the date of what would be her first journey into hyperspace approached, but despite her parents' assurances that there were precautions against becoming Lost, that ships could call back a Hiigaran before being Lost, Sannel could not help but shy away from any talk of taking her into hyperspace. Her fear only grew worse with time. Finally, she tried disconnecting herself with the technology around her, trying to become Bound. Sannel’s attempts would be futile, but it did not matter to her. She would not be Lost. Her parents found her crying uncontrollably, away from everyone else, desperately trying to hide, trying to be Bound. It was the only time in her life she ever remembered herself crying. In the quasi-Bound state she kept herself in, she never could rest properly or feel comfortable.
Then, one day soon afterwards, she simply knew that she would not be Lost. Not that she still wasn't afraid of being Lost, not that anything had changed with hyperspace,
but she simply knew everything would be fine. When she did finally enter
hyperspace, under her father's watch, Sannel actually enjoyed the experience,
although she still shivered when she first heard hyperspace.
Even now, she still always trembled slightly whenever her ship entered hyperspace, and its song would always chill her in a deep manner. Sannel never let herself focus on hyperspace, and often had to quiet her ship’s singing to avoid drifting away. Sannel prided herself in never falling prey to the song of hyperspace, relying on the ship to call her back, something that happened eventually to almost every Hiigaran.
That first time, Sannel knew she would not be Lost. Just before the B'qula burned K'Basal she knew what would happen, that the B'qula were planning on slaughtering the Bitalq. For as long as she could remember, she very occasionally knew things would happen, very vaguely, before they did - but she had assumed that such things were perfectly normal. Everyone occasionally had flashes of insight, she figured. But this time...it was different. No one else had seen what was coming. She felt isolated by the images she had seen. She was alone.
The ship continued to glide in hyperspace, the singing permeating throughout. The melody caressed the ship.
What happened to me? Sannel wondered, as parts of her mind blocked out the song of hyperspace. Her ship stirred, troubled by her rejection of the space around her. Why did I see what I did?
She had heard of such things in legends, from all the way back to Kharak. It was said some could see things others couldn’t, but that they had left the Hiigarans, and that they still were out there, unconcerned with matters of the Hiigarans. But Sannel really didn’t believe these stories. The only legends she had ever really believed were those of Tasiin the Defeater of Outside, and there was a large body of evidence to support those legends. For that matter, she herself was Limandatt, and she had spent a considerable time looking into the matter, growing to admire Tasiin as well as confirming the validity of the records. But myths about a mystical Sight never really attracted her, no more than the ancient stories about Sajuuk and he being the one who Exiled the Hiigarans, scattering them like seeds in the wind.
Perhaps I am simply exaggerating what I saw to myself. She sighed, echoing out in hyperspace. Perhaps I should not think so much about it. Sannel listened to hyperspace silently, as if expecting an answer. The song drifted around her, washing away some of her doubts.
Even if I did see something… she started. There was nothing to add to that thought. Only the song of hyperspace.
A flash of anger coursed through Sannel. Takell did not have to show it to me. I understood well enough what we were facing. I did not have to watch the deaths of billions to see-
The thought abruptly disappeared from her mind. Sannel tried to recover it, but could not. She let the rest of her mind empty, empty into the vast ocean of hyperspace, hyperspace washing over her mind, carrying everything away, its song like gentle waves caressing her Unbound body, soothing her, lowering her defenses, calmness engulfing her. Symmetries danced around her, hyperspace sang to her. Sannel felt all of her thoughts cascade into each other, focusing on the song, everything else nonexistent. It was beautiful, so beautiful. She did not want to leave it, she wanted to hear all of it, she wanted to be surrounded by it, to listen to it eternally, it was so beautiful, it was all, there was nothing else, she –
Sannel!
Sannel.
Come back. You are losing yourself. You are becoming detached. Come back, Sannel. Don’t abandon me…
She paid attention to the voice only peripherally. She let the song of hyperspace drown out the inconsequential voice-
-Don’t be Lost!
Sannel snapped out of her trance with a gasp. Reality painfully filtered into her mind, her thoughts once again splitting into several tracks. She blocked out hyperspace, allowing her thoughts to reorganize.
Lost, she thought, unable to absorb it. After all of this time, after everything, I have fallen to that.
It happens to every Hiigaran, her ship said.
No, no…it’s not that, it’s- Sannel did not bother to finish. True, her ship was a friend and a loyal companion, but it could never understand some things. She sighed.
I am…tired. She paused. How far are we from Hiigara?
About 11,000 light years from Hiigara, outwards from the Galactic Core, along the Inner Rim.
Eleven thousand light years…that is far enough. Maintain position.
Never had Sannel felt so utterly tired in her life.
Should I jump to normal space?
Go ahead, replied Sannel.
The song of hyperspace, faded away, as the ship dropped out of the higher spaces.
She emerged into a rather indistinct star system. The sunlight warmed her ship, her body.
Sannel was exhausted.
Ship…
Sannel?
…Sing to me…
She let the song wrap around her, her ship carefully watching so that she would not lose herself in it, as her thoughts slipped into quietness.

It was late when Kaltar received the message. He was tired of poring over the strategies the Zaala fleet was developing and reading over the requests of the various Elders and delegates, and so he opened it. It took Kaltar a moment to realize what he was seeing.
A simple map of the galaxy, with a blue line extending shortly from near the Galactic Core outwards. It stretched perhaps 10,000 light years, starting near Hiigara. Upon closer examination, Kaltar realized it did start at Hiigara.
Sannel, he finally figured. They want to tell me they found her.
“Contact Delegate Takell of the Hiigarans.”
After a few moments, Takell appeared before Kaltar.
“Delegate Kaltar,” Takell said by way of greeting.
“Delegate Takell. May I assume you are the one who sent me the little message?”
Takell did not need to ask what he was referring to. “Yes.”
“So you have found Sannel.”
“We have tracked her ship into that general area.”
“But you haven’t exactly found her.”
“No. But we will.”
“You will?”
“Yes.”
“Would you care to share how you are so sure you will find her?”
“No,” Takell replied, shrugging off the question. “You can expect her tomorrow, even within a few hours. We will have her contact you as soon as possible. If you wish for her as a…guide.”
“I already stated my opinion about that.”
“Very well, then. Because you are engaged in other matters, I will let Sannel answer any of your concerns tomorrow. Before we disconnect, though, I would like the answer to one question…Do you truly feel you have anything of value?”
“You yourselves are going out searching for allies, derelicts, and technologies. If we do the same, I do not see how any harm could come of it. But even though we might not be as…able…as some others could be to help you, would you like to risk missing something?”
Takell smiled ever so slightly. “No. Do you have any other immediate concerns?”
Seeing Takell standing in front of him let memories float back to him. He remembered Takell before him in the Council chambers, four years ago, between him and the T-Mat, offering condolences-
“No.”
“Then, we wish you luck.” Takell’s image disappeared.
Kaltar decided he had had enough and went to sleep.

“Sannel.”
Sannel stirred, fitful.
“Who are you, Sannel?”
The moment she heard that, the moment she opened her eyes, she knew something was wrong. She was lying down, dressed in the silver and blue she represented herself as wearing, her body slightly curled. That in itself disturbed Sannel, until it was overshadowed by her realization that she was Bound. She could not hear her ship, for the first time in years.
“Why am I here?” Sannel managed to ask, barely able to sit up a bit. The last thing she remembered was her ship singing to her, her thoughts drifted off. “Where am I? Why am I…Bound?”
“You like to ask questions. That reminds me of him.”
Despite the observation, Sannel could not resist the temptation.
“Who?”
He was standing, perhaps leaning on something invisible.
“Tasiin?” She stared at the other with disbelief. “Tasiin?”
On some level she could not believe it. This person could not possibly be the Tasiin, the Defeater of Outside, she had admired so much when she was younger.
The figure simply bowed his head, an acknowledgement.
“Tasiin,” Sannel repeated.
“And who are you?” the figure, Tasiin, asked.
“I am…I am – Sannel…I…” Sannel’s voice faded away. There was nothing else she could find to answer the question. “-Tasiin, I-“
Another figure appeared behind Tasiin, hands resting on his shoulders perfectly naturally. This time Sannel instantly recognized her. Datlai.
Sannel had never believed that faces could represent, and certainly never symbolize, emotions. There was always pretense and secrecy, layers of truths, contradictory meanings. But Datlai’s eyes looked sad. There was no other way for Sannel to describe it. Just as Tasiin looked…tired.
“Datlai,” Sannel said, her mouth hanging slightly open after the name escaped it.
“Sannel,” Datlai replied, less surprised. “Why are you here?”
Sannel slowly approached the two. “The B’qula – our ancestors…the Naggarok launchers have returned. The war is starting. We – we are…we cannot win. Already-“
Sannel noticed Tasiin slightly turning away from her. She came closer in response. “Tasiin…we need help.”
Tasiin was turned sideways to, if not away from, her, Datlai between him and Sannel.
“Help us,” Sannel said.
Tasiin whispered something that she could not hear.
“What did you say?”
“He said-“ Datlai began.
“I don’t want it,” Tasiin finished for her.
Sannel felt more despair than she expected. She had looked up to Tasiin for years and now he was refusing even to listen to her.
“What…what do you mean by that?” Sannel asked. Sannel felt a surge of anger. “Who are you to make that decision?”
“Who are you to make such a decision?” Tasiin echoed.
“I am…I am one of your line, a Limandatt,” Sannel replied.
“Are you?”
That question had come from Datlai.
Sannel looked down at her own silver and blue robe, shining with reflected light. It was certainly Limandatt. She was certainly Limandatt. “Yes. I am descended...”
“But have you been true to the kiith’s spirit?”
“Have you been true to the kiith’s spirit, Tasiin? Yes, you defeated Outside, yes, you were a brilliant physicist, yes, you were born a Limandatt as I was, but how are you a muser more than me?”
“Some dream in words, some in images. I dream in equations. How do you dream?”
Sannel to her dismay could find no answer.
“If my book of musings is filled with math, the math still tells something about the universe. It still tells something about me. It still tells something. At least my book is filled. Is yours?”
Sannel found herself slowly and reluctantly shaking her head.
“But-“
“You are not one of us.”
“But-“ Sannel protested.
Tasiin turned to face her. His sudden gaze was overwhelming. Sannel took a step back, losing her balance, and stumbling. She found herself on her back, trying to sit up. Something made her vision unclear.
Sannel put a hand over her face, rubbing it. She looked at her hands, seeing the tears glinting. Sannel looked at her own hand and her own tears as if they were not hers, as if they were strange, inexplicable artifacts.
“I-I…”
Her eyes began to well up more.
“Sannel,” Datlai said soothingly. “I know how difficult it will be for you. But perhaps this is a matter which you will have to solve on your own.”
Somehow, when Datlai said something, she could say it with care for the listener, yet it hurt more than if Tasiin had said it. Sannel could feel her last vestiges of hope flee from her. She began to cry openly, the first and only time she remembered doing that since she had heard of the Lost.
Tasiin and Datlai turned from her.
“Say something to me,” Sannel pleaded, her voice muffled involuntarily by sobs. Her voice was reduced to a whisper. “Please.”
Neither Tasiin nor Datlai answered her.
You are of us, a voice replied to her. She could not tell discern the Voice well, feeling as if she was failing to grasp part of the message.
But you are not one of us.
With that, the Voice quieted; Tasiin and Datlai walked away.
Sannel was utterly alone.
“No,” she whispered between sporadic sobs. “Don’t leave me. Come back.”
There was no reply. She collapsed in despair.
“Please, come back.”
Silence.
“Don’t let me be Lost.”

4
Latal
”…So if the Zaala ships were not the primary target, if they were not moving against you, why did you attack them at all?”
“They could not interfere.”
“Interfere with what?”
“There were other forces at work there.”
“What other forces? Our ships only detected your fleet and the damaged Zaala ships.”
“Exactly.”
(silence)
“You could never understand.”
“What could we possibly not understand?”
“Many things. But we know. We understand more than you know.

Presiding Delegate Takell of the Hiigarans and T-Mat
Galactic Council meeting
GSY 22350.9 (12467.0 AHL)

Latal beckoned to Kaltar.
She was bathed in turquoise Jekalten light. Kaltar could see every radiant detail of her, the stars and Jekalte only highlighting her. Her smile never seemed to be touched by life’s troubles. Latal was innocent, yet mature, never losing her sense of direction, her sense of humor, her sense of happiness.
“That’s a lot to tell from one glimpse,” she used to say. “Are you sure you cannot read minds also?”
“Reading faces is very useful in negotiations in the Council, with the Bound at least. One can tell many things about intentions,” Kaltar would reply.
“Yes. I am glad we have people like you in case the others tried to disobey the mighty and terrible Zaala.”
They both would laugh.
Seeing her standing like that reminded him of-
No, I can’t let myself think of that again, Kaltar resolved. But it was too late. The memories came climbing back up to him, shoving away all other thoughts, pushing aside the present.
It would only be a few days, he had said. A quiet trip into the Galactic Core. Latal told him not to be so worried-
No, Kaltar thought. “No,” he whispered.
The Zaala ship Telana burned in space. The bridge was in chaos, wreckage strewn everywhere. In one corner, an officer was trying to put out a fire, with not much luck. A blue-white flash lit the viewscreen and the bridge.
Please, Greatest Elder, let that be us, Kaltar pled in silence. Cleanse all that has happened.
But death would not come. On the screen, a small formation of Zaala fighters coasted, a hole where the T-Mat had just destroyed one of the smaller craft.
Intellectually, Kaltar understood that a life had just been taken in a span too brief to imagine. But what mattered to him was here – Latal in his arms, wounded by a piece of metal, lying partly on the floor. Her eyes looked beyond him, as if seeing something he never could, yet Kaltar could feel her looking at him, with emotions he could never understand.
The commander of the ship and another officer were trying to make sense of the attack, as if the T-Mat ever made sense.
“Hyperdrive, communications and sensors destroyed, sir! They took out the same system in the two escorts.”
“This doesn’t make any sense!” the commander shouted, turning to the viewscreen. “The T-Mat attack quickly, leaving no time for retaliation. Why didn’t they – they left our weapons intact, even let us launch fighters!”
“I know. They’ve been largely ignoring us, even though we’re fighting back with everything we have!” The red glow of one of the Zaala destroyers firing into a T-Mat Megaship underscored the point. “The T-Mat fleet seems to be moving past us.”
“Were any of us able to send out a distress call?” the commander demanded.
“One of the escorts managed to send out a distress call, but the T-Mat destroyed their com systems. We can only hope that help is on the way.”
Another red flash of light, another futile gesture of defiance by the Zaala.
The commander began, “Do we have any word on casualties-“ Both looked at Kaltar instinctively. Kaltar could feel their gazes focusing intently on him and Latal. Latal seemed to be drifting in and out of reality.
“…I don’t care what they say, I want a medical team here now,” the commander ordered. The junior officer ran off into a smoke-filled corridor. The commander took a few steps toward Kaltar and Latal, but stopped, and then turned around.
“Latal,” Kaltar whispered.
Latal’s eyes focused on Kaltar. “K-Kal-tar,” she whispered arduously in reply, coughing.
“Don’t try to force it,” Kaltar began. “Don’t try to – to - “ He found that he could not go on.
Latal looked at him. She even seemed a little curious, trying to understand what he wanted to say. Perhaps she meant to say something but could find no way to frame her thoughts. Her tired gaze locked on him, her lips slightly parted.
Say something, Kaltar pleaded. Stay here. Find someway to stay.
Latal’s arm weakly rose, tracing his body all the way to his face, then one eye. She touched it ever so gently, then the other. Kaltar felt her hand glide across her face. He did not know he was crying until he felt the heat of tears on her fingers. She traced out patterns, like writing a message with his own tears. Kaltar wished he could understand what she was trying to tell him. But more than anything, he wished this moment would last forever.
But it would not.
Her hand weakly nudged his head to the side. He let his head turn.
Kaltar felt sick.
Latal slackened in his arm, going limp.
Why don’t I say something? Kaltar demanded of himself.
Her grip weakened to nothingness.
Say something to her!
Her radiance faded into infinite and eternal dark, dragging Kaltar’s spirit with her.
“No!”
“…Thirty nine Zaala died at the hands of the T-Mat. Hiigaran and Zaala ships did answer the distress call, but it was too late. Takell addressed the Council. Kaltar was in the center, Takell between him and the representation of the T-Mat, countless eyes looking down at him.
“The T-Mat will be punished. We do express our condolences and utmost regrets to the Zaala people.” Takell gazed at him.
Kaltar said nothing. Before this insanity, he might have given an eloquent speech, a statement of defiance to the T-Mat, even a simple thanks to the Hiigarans for their thoughts. But now, not a word.
The Bentusi filled the silence. “We believe the T-Mat regret their actions.”
The T-Mat replied coldly, “We do not regret anything.”
“You-” Kaltar started to take steps toward the representation of the T-Mat. He felt anger rise up in him, awaking every muscle, emotional fire consuming his mind. “You-”
Takell’s image shifted so it was before Kaltar again, as if a holographic projection could stop him. But the look on Takell’s face conveyed to Kaltar a clear message. He had to be strong. He could not let the others see him reduced to this. He could not risk whatever he had left for a futile gesture of revenge.
He could not let the T-Mat get whatever sick, perverse pleasure they got in his suffering.
“Why?” Kaltar finally managed to ask.
“It was necessary,” the T-Mat stated.
“What could possibly, possibly, be worth…” –her- “the…thirty-nine lives you took?” he demanded.
“We…the nature of the necessity is hard to discern. But what we did was necessary. Someday all of you may thank us.” The T-Mat seemed to focus their attention on Kaltar. “Even you, Bound delegate.”
The memories swept passed him, having taken their toll on Kaltar.
But Latal is here, he told himself. She was so close, almost as if he could touch her, hold her once again. He moved towards her, calling her name. Latal turned towards him, reached for him, calling to him, but she could not move. Kaltar tried to reach her, to touch her, to hold her, but the closer he came the farther away she was. It was like space itself was against him, reality trying to keep them apart. Kaltar reached towards her with all of his might, his hand coming closer, nearly touching hers –
The dream shattered, leaving him only fragments, and then not even those. It felt like he had been the victim of a cruel, sadistic trick of the Great Elders like in ancient legends.
“Don’t do that!” he shouted.
Kaltar took in a breath, the air stabbing him with reality. Kaltar forced open his eyes, an image shimmering into existence before him.
A cold, severe, distant expression on a young face. Mouth turned not quite into a frown, eyes weary, and perhaps, perhaps even hurt. Blue and silver cloth glimmering with light reflected from nowhere in particular.
Sannel, of course.
She sat – floated, rather, at eye level.
“Takell said I had to contact you as soon as possible.” Almost shrugging it off, she added, “And so I have contacted you.”
“You could at least…you could have...” Sannel looked at him. “Just don’t…”
Kaltar decided to shift her attention away from him. “Did you enjoy your little trip?”
He expected Sannel to become annoyed or angry with that comment, but instead, she averted her gaze. If anything, she really did seem hurt. “Do not mention that.”
“Why not? What happened out there?” Kaltar pressed on.
Sannel apparently decided that it would be best to answer his questions and be done with them. “I went outwards…Then I…jumped into normal space to- to take a moment to…rest…and then…then…eventually the others found me and-led me back. I did not want to cause any more trouble, and so I went back.”
There was obviously much more to Sannel’s jaunt then she was saying. Kaltar was surprised at first by how careless she was in trying to cover up her distress. Eventually, though, he realized that Sannel must not be used to talking to the Bound; Unbound communication must be more refined, more controlled.
She must not realize how…Bound she is.
So I have an advantage over her now, he thought.
Yet, somehow, Kaltar could not bring himself to use that advantage against her, not when she seemed as trapped by him as she did now. He let the conversation hang for a moment, then let her change the subject once more.
“Takell approved your plan,” she said.
“My plan?” Kaltar asked. It seemed like the exchange was turning into a twisted game, each trying to grab control of the conversation and use it against the other. But Kaltar noticed she was, or at least appeared disturbed.
“To find derelicts and go exploring in your territory,” she explained.
“Ah, yes. Actually an idea pushed forth by our Elders, as a…” he searched for an appropriate term, “…a gesture of goodwill. If you understand what I mean.”
“Then, while we still have your good will…” Sannel’s lips turned into a mischievous, mysterious smile – not at all like Latal’s warm, playful grins. “Let’s go treasure hunting.”

The Galaxy’s disk hovered in between Kaltar and Sannel. The yellow light of the Galactic Core softly illuminated both of them, like a still fire. Several times, he thought about how the two of them must look like giants arguing over possession of the galaxy. Already he had spent hours telling her about the derelicts.
Sannel sighed, the sound rather light and almost musical. It made her seem so…Bound, for lack of a better word. Kaltar could not help but chuckle upon hearing it.
She looked confused, but Kaltar did not explain himself.
After staring at him for a moment, she said, “So, you have told me about 22 derelicts of interest, a debris field, an ancient planetary colony, and,” He could hear the amusement in her voice, “A haunted star cluster.”
“You seem amused with the idea. But every expedition into Globular Cluster 079 has reported something strange, dating back as far as our records go.”
“Perhaps, but a haunted star cluster…it does seem a little childish.”
Kaltar looked up at Sannel’s smooth, young face. What do you know of what is childish? Have you seen even a small fraction of what I have?[/I]
“Really?”
“I never have been one to believe in legends…not many,” Sannel replied.
“I wouldn’t suppose that you do.”
Sannel once again stared at him. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
“What do you think?”
Sannel did not reply. He imagined she was too prideful to answer him.
Kaltar felt an echo of that ancient rage, fury frozen in his mind but melting before Sannel.
“It is strange,” Kaltar said. “Even after all I have been through, I still believe in some things, even some of the old legends…even the Greatest Elder.” I even believe in the Realm of the Elders, the only place left for Latal. Still looking at her face, his gaze penetrating her, he elaborated, “You do not know what I am talking about.” The uncomprehending look on her face confirmed his suspicions. “Four years ago, I was on a ship, the Telana. It made a routine jump to normal space, passing through a star system on the edge of our territory-“ The name of the system was burned into his mind like a curse written across his memory. “-The Klaal 07-31-42-1 system.”
Sannel closed her eyes, as if she was searching through her memory. “I see it. The T-Mat attacked the Telana and its escorts and –” She must have found the casualty list at that moment.
Kaltar watched with grim fascination as the purposefulness in her face faded, her mouth forming into a frown.
“You must understand I do have something of a different perspective than you.”
She seemed so vulnerable now, as if a careless word on his part could shatter her.
But even with our disagreements I would not do that to you, Sannel, he thought. I do still have some appreciation for how others feel.
“Sorry,” he said.
Sannel did not look at him, Kaltar had won, completely and at her expense.
“Surely you have your own stories,” he said.
“No,” Sannel finally replied, although rather quickly.
Kaltar could tell she was stretching the truth, but did not force the issue. “What about your family?”
“I have told you that I am Limandatt…obviously there are stories that come with that heritage.”
“Are you really descended from them?” he asked. “The Defeaters of Outside?”
A little less saddened, she replied, “The records are not complete, but that is a possibility. By now, many of us would be directly descended from them.”
Kaltar nodded. “And your immediate family?”
Sannel still looked out into the distance. “My mother and I were never close. But my father and I were. He always did understand me and he never ran out of patience. Once childhood ends, the others do not approve of constant contact with parents…
“And you miss him,” he finished for her. Was that really so hard? To open your shell just that little bit? “It is getting late. I should call homeworld and tell them of our plans.
Sannel did not look at him.
“Good night.”
She finally did tilt her head back up to meet his gaze. Then her image shimmered out of existence.
Interesting, he finally thought. At least I know there’s a person inside her.
“Contact Elder Zetal of the Kel clan.”
The Elder appeared before him.
Kaltar bowed. “Greetings, Elder Zetal.”
The Elder looked at him, smiled, and replied, “Greetings, Delegate Kaltar. Have you managed to arrange a tour for the Hiigarans?”
“I have. We depart tomorrow.”
Elder Zetal appeared unusually pleased. “Excellent. Excellent. The Zaala people are in your debt.
“We have been working to accommodate you and the Hiigarans. The ambassadorial ship, the Telana, will arrive at the Council station shortly. When necessary, we will also supply you with an escort.”
“If I may ask –“ Kaltar interrupted, “May I take a frigate instead of the Telana?”
The Elder looked at him sadly, in a gesture of regret, partly formal, partly genuine. “I am afraid that we cannot spare any ships from the coming battles. I have heard of your prior experiences, and I am sorry, but the Telana is the ship you must take. Additionally, if we are to provide the great Hiigarans with a survey of our space, we should do our best to provide an escort that appears more majestic than a standard military frigate.”
“I understand.” Not that it didn’t hurt him any less.
“We have confidence in you. Remember your duty to your clan and your people, indeed, all of the Galaxy’s peoples. You have not disappointed us before. Do not disappoint us now. Homeworld out.”
Kaltar climbed over to his bed. I have never forgotten my duty except the one moment when I had the most important one.
Kaltar extinguished the room’s light.
I will never forgive myself.
The silence of the room amplified every thought, every doubt.
I never did say goodbye to her.

5
Wandering Through the Night
One thing I have noticed with the Unbound in my encounters with them is that they sometimes seem…preoccupied. They always seem intent – at least when around the Bound – as if the Galaxy’s very existence is in danger.
I suppose with Outside, and if Tasiin’s predictions are correct, the Naggarok launchers’ eventual coming, they have good reasons to be worried. But still, it seems strange…Even the Bentusi seem to be concerned with some distant matter…
…Sometimes it scares me.

Dolann Kaalel
Beastslayer project leader and commander of the Jal-Tor
~GSY 9533 (23 AHL)

B’qula Fighters dived towards the I’ao fleet, past the Bentusi Exchange that lay between them and their targets. Ion cannons lashed out, exploding into the massive flagship and escorting carriers. I’ao ships turned to engage, ion cannons lighting their ships in hard lavender light. I’ao strike craft fired plasma bombs, gliding into the attacking swarms.
Yellow-white beams arced across space, trying to hit Fighters. Bentusi fighters appeared, gliding out of the Tradeship, arranging themselves into walls that moved in on the distant quartet of Destroyers, bright light alternating from the fighters.
The B’qula capital ships rotated in place, aiming themselves at the Tradeship. Pale, spectral shafts of light emanated out of each of the warships. The Tradeship spun under the onslaught of gravity waves, splaying wreckage as it withered into a twisted husk and then broke into a thousand pieces and cloud of plasma that vaporized nearby Super Acolytes. The remaining Super Acolytes flew on, automated, as point defense cannons vaporized them in turn.
Enemy Frigates advanced on the outgunned I’ao. Silvery beams slashed the flagship, which fired a host of weapons at the incoming ships. The Frigates absorbed the fire as if unbothered. I’ao cruisers and destroyers turned to face the Frigates, diffuse, purple glows emanating from them. The Frigates twisted for a moment, their ion cannons swirling through the battlefield. I’ao ships joined their fire, pounding on the Frigates. B’qula Fighters pursued, coasting on inertialess drives, forming into spheres, raining death on I’ao ships. Capital ships were destroyed, one after another after another.
The B’qula Frigates were bathed in light as one of their number exploded. The Frigates pushed forth once again as the I’ao released them from their gravity well cages. The Destroyers closed in on the I’ao; Frigates spread attempting to surround the I’ao fleet. Dozens of ion cannons bathed the flagship, and with a flash of yellow and white, the massive carrier broke apart. Grey beams cut into the few I’ao ships left. The formations scattered, and their ships, isolated, exploded.
The B’qula ships, floating in wreckage, jumped to hyperspace.

Kaltar entered the converted gathering room of the Telana. He had insisted that he guide Sannel in this room, alone, not on the bridge. Some of the others had protested, but he could not bring himself to enter the bridge.
He remembered Latal in his arms, nudging his head away, her last breath seeping out of her…
He would not relive that.
It was not an arrangement without merit. Holographic projectors were already in place in that room, as opposed to the bridge, where they were only located for the various viewscreens. This would be better for Sannel. Since the Enemy’s engagements were still about 20,000 light years away, he doubted there would be real trouble, so his presence on the bridge was not necessary. From here, he could contact the bridge, if the need ever arose, as well as avoid the ever-present memories.
“Good morning,” he greeted.
Sannel, floating with her hands in her lap, did not acknowledge him.
Kaltar took his place in the center of the room, to Sannel’s left. “What is the progress of the war?”
Sannel continued to gaze ahead, a little blankly.
“Sannel?”
Silence.
“Sannel!”
She blinked, disorientated, both annoyed and relieved. Sannel opened her palms, out of which a slowly spinning representation of the Galaxy grew out, expanding and drifting over until it loomed before them.
One of the outer portions of a spiral arm glowed red. A protrusion – alarmingly pointing towards Zaala space – extended inwards about two thousand light years. Scattered red points glowed around the main arc, like drops of blood.
After letting it sink in, Sannel finally spoke. “Seventeen percent of the Galaxy has been taken.” It had been four weeks since they had departed and still the Enemy had advanced far. “They destroyed one-half of the I’ao fleet today, as well as a Bentusi Exchange.”
Kaltar was dismayed. The I’ao had technology and power approaching that of the unbound. Even though they had lost their homeworld over a month ago, they still escaped with a large fraction of their fleet.
The destruction of a Bentusi Tradeship should have been no surprise, but still shocked him. Aside from small Hiigaran frontier fleets, the Unbound had been staying out of the war, gathering near the Inner Rim and Galactic Core. The Tradeship must be the first non-Hiigaran Unbound ship to fall.
Unfortunately it might just be the first casualty, Kaltar thought.
“The rest of the I’ao fleet will take refuge in the Central Worlds with the others,” Sannel continued.
“At least they will be safe there,” Kaltar said. “Assuming your hyperspace inhibitors hold the B’qula fleet out…or at least long enough for them to move again.”
The galaxy shrunk back into Sannel’s hands. She softly sighed, resting her head on her palms, partly sad, partly bored.
Always reading and analyzing others, Kaltar, Latal chided.
Kaltar pushed the thought out of his mind. It was bad enough he had to be on the Telana, although he agreed to do so out of respect for the Elders. He did not need to be constantly reminded of her.
“How long until we reach the Nelta 917 system?” Kaltar asked.
“Seventeen minutes.”
The Telana continued through third-level hyperspace, the highest most Bound ships could reach. Accompanying it was Sannel’s ships. Kaltar had seen it many times – sleek, corvette sized, black with curving, bright blue markings etched into it.
“You haven’t looked at me once,” Kaltar pointed out.
“Oh,” she replied. Sannel looked much as she did when he came in.
“I am sure that eventually I will lose you as you are like this.”
Sannel turned towards him. “Never say that!” she shouted. Kaltar stared at her, as the tension faded out of her, her face paling. She turned away from him. For a long moment she did not acknowledge Kaltar, but after a few minutes a whisper escaped her lips.
“What did you say?”
She bowed her head down. “I said…”
Sorry.
I forgive you, Latal said.
Kaltar gained no solace, even if what she said was true to her nature.
A few more minutes passed, unnoticed by either.
“Is this where you wish to be?” Kaltar asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Delegate Takell says that your people are exploring. Some of you must be examining, for example, the Ghost Ship and the Karos Graveyard…”
“As well as the Karos Dyson sphere, Koreth’s Rift, and the B’qula home galaxy.” With just a hint of dreaminess, she added, “A whole satellite galaxy…”
“If you seem so…uninterested with what is here, do you wish to be there?”
“Perhaps.” From her, that was as good as “yes.” “So far, we have yet to find anything of real value.”
“Perhaps of nothing much value to you, but the Shekelu will be useful to us.” Kaltar remembered it clearly – the deep scans of Sannel’s ships had found a small, corvette sized ships, lurking away from a rather impressive, but clearly useless derelict cruiser. Kaltar, after thanking the Greater Elders and a painful moment of wishing to hug Latal, had named it the Shekelu, for the Greater Elder who had guided the Zaala during the Imperial occupation so long ago, helping them secretly preserve their culture until it could blossom again, just as the technology on the Shekelu had waited for millennia until it could be used again. Further analysis, again aided by Hiigaran technology, showed that the Shekelu was 27,000 years old and apparently, through means incomprehensible to Kaltar, had traces of T-Mat technology, particularly in the hull and the power systems. The Telana called in a Zaala carrier, which salvaged the Shekelu and notified the homeworld. Kaltar was relieved at scoring some victory, although he could feel the fire well up in him as he realized the T-Mat – the same that killed Latal – were Unbound and active 27,000 years ago.
“Yes…so we may all live a few more minutes.”
“You really believe we are all doomed?” Kaltar asked, a little incredulous.
“Takell seems to be rather insistent on that point,” Sannel answered.
“That seems unusual. I have always known Takell to be fair-minded, rational, and concerned with the well-being of the Galaxy.” Kaltar looked for signs of disapproval on Sannel’s face but found only the same distracted expression always on her face. “He seems to be one of your best leaders.”
A soft laugh emerged from Sannel’s direction. “Takell is not a leader,” she replied. “He has said so repeatedly.”
Kaltar decided he was intrigued this conversation, even enjoying it to some extent. “If that is true, then who is? And why does Takell speak for the Hiigarans?”
“It does not – Takell…has been granted authority by those who guide our collective decisions. He once said that no one of us truly understands the entire process, but that it ends up reflecting our wills.”
“Ah. And are you one of his…students?”
There was a pause. “Do the Zaala usually train their delegates in interrogation?” she asked.
She was making a joke. Kaltar smiled. “They insisted it was necessary for the good of the race, clan, and kindred.”
He had not been aware of the tension between him and Sannel, but as it faded, he realized it had existed. The fire within him cooled; he could sense Sannel’s icy coldness melt a little.
“I imagined such,” she said, displaying a wan, but obvious smile.
The ships intercom system came to life. “Jumping to normal space,” an officer announced.
Sannel closed her eyes, and her image flickered out of existence as her ship fell back into normal space. A blue flash filled Kaltar’s vision, for a moment, and Kaltar felt an instant of disorientation, and even…loss that always accompanied the exiting of hyperspace, despite studies over the millennia repeatedly showing that there should be no such feeling.
Sannel’s image reappeared. She opened her eyes, and then said, “The Bentusi are here.”
Confirming it, the commander of the Telana declared, “Delegate Kaltar: a Bentusi Exchange is approaching us. They wish to speak with you.”
“Let them speak,” Kaltar ordered.
“Greetings. We have come to trade,” the Bentusi stated by way of greeting. Sannel displayed an image of the Tradeship for him, the gold and brown horseshoe open to the Telana. “We would like the information you have retrieved. In exchange, we are prepared to provide you with resources or information.”
Kaltar considered for a moment what would be best for the Zaala. “We would like all information you have on the Enemy – the B’qula.”
The Bentusi seemed to pause. Perhaps he had asked too much – but still, he saw little reason why the Bentusi wouldn’t be forthcoming, especially with the Hiigarans already distributing some of it and with the Zaala’s very existence at stake.
“We will send you the information you desire,” they finally replied.
“Thank you. Commander, please send the Bentusi all the information we have on the Shekelu as well as the other derelicts and Delegate Sannel’s scans.”
“Done,” the commander replied. “We have received the data on the B’qula from the Bentusi.”
“Send over a copy to Delegate Sannel’s ship.”
Sannel didn’t react. She seemed to be staring at her own illusion of the Bentusi Tradeship.
“We have received the information. Thank you.”
The Bentusi vessel turned, and then its image shimmered out of existence.
“We should get to work here,” Kaltar told Sannel.
“It has been said that the Defeaters of Outside talked to the Bentusi.”
“And you wish to talk to the Bentusi, like they did?” Kaltar found himself a little more skeptical than he wished.
Sannel nodded slowly.
“How long will this take?”
“Short enough.”
“Fine, then. But afterwards, we must work.”
Sannel nodded once again, and closed her eyes.

Takell never did enjoy conversing with the T-Mat. Yet that was precisely what the situation – and the others – required, and so Takell found himself doing just that. The T-Mat did not appear to be enjoying the conversation any more than he was.
We have been examining the records from the Beastslayer War, he said.
You wish to bring up that incident again? demanded the T-Mat.
Takell knew that he was becoming rather impatient already. Your ships appeared to have interesting abilities back then.
Our ships have many abilities that would interest you, the T-Mat said flatly.
Takell decided to get to the point. We know you – somehow – developed a limited derivation of the Ghost Ship.
Perhaps, answered the T-Mat.
There was a silence.
Do you wish that technology for yourself? they demanded.
It would be of great use to the Galaxy.
We have been heard that you have been mandating that other technologies from other races be given to you, often quite threateningly.
We have done no such thing. Takell knew that what he had said was mostly true, although the Hiigarans had been fairly insistent that the other races help the Hiigarans any way they could.
Not from your point of view, perhaps. But we do know that you have…asked…the I’ao for their gravitational weaponry, among others, rather insistently. We wonder what you are doing.
We need everything we have to stand a chance, Takell declared, almost shouting. If you do not give us the Ghost Ship technology, we –
-Will kill us? the T-Mat interrupted, apparently amused. Takell seethed, but the T-Mat did not let him reply to the accusation. If you wish to wage war with us, then do so. We understand. If we were alone, you would even win. We never asked you for assistance. But with the Enemy advancing, you do not practically have that option.
We do not have the time to argue with you, Takell warned.
We are not hypocrites, unlike you and your Taiidan servant-friends…and, unfortunately, on occasion, the Bentusi. We will not withhold our help when it will help the other Unbound. We will give you the principles behind the technology. You can figure out the details amongst yourselves.
Neither of them wanted to prolong the conversation longer than necessary. The T-Mat closed the channel, ending the exchange.
Takell was not in a mood to celebrate his victory.

Sannel approached the Bentusi hesitantly.
While talking with Kaltar was at times rather uninteresting, at least she never felt uneasy around him. And, at times, it was even enjoyable. She could even hear, quietly, his thoughts from her ship.
I am too hard on him, sometimes, she reflected. Sometimes, she qualified.
The Bentusi, on the other hand, were a completely different matter. The Tradeship dwarfed her ship, and the Bentusi always seemed to convey themselves as giants. She could hear the Bentusi talk amongst themselves as they went about their tasks.
You should not be worried. The Bentusi are generally friendly to us, her ship reassured.
I know, she said, sighing, looking upon the Tradeship. I wonder how Tasiin and Datlai used to talk to them.
The Bentusi Tradeship’s hyperdrive is active, her ship said.
Wait! Sannel shouted. Do not leave me.
The Bentusi ship hovered ahead. She could sense them linking together. Sannel felt like they were all staring at her.
Greetings, they said.
Sannel could feel her Bound body shift, uncomfortable. Hello, she replied, unsure. May I project myself over?
You may.
Sannel hesitated.
We do not wish to harm you. It was a great tragedy when we attacked your people as the Devourer threatened us. We do not wish to repeat our mistakes as the Enemy threatens us now.
Her mind, like all of the other Unbound, was centered on a ship. Hiigarans, however, had over the millennia developed a unique talent of being able to project themselves on to other ships, extending themselves. The process did involve the transfer of data between the ships, but the exact workings never were explained.
Sannel felt the Bentusi, drawing herself towards them, imagining herself there. Suddenly, she felt the Bentusi all around her, still seeming to stare, their thoughts echoing around her. The Bentusi Tradeship was a distant part of her, she was a small part of it.
What do I hope to do? she asked herself. Suddenly, she felt an intense longing to be back with her ship and the Telana, wandering through the stars and around derelicts.
Your song is troubled. The Bentusi’s voice boomed around her.
What do you mean?
Your mind is self-contradicting. You are wish for something – but you do not know what you wish for. It is most disturbing.
Sannel knew she should have expected them to admonish her.
We have sensed this yearning before. First, in the Devourer; then we realized we sensed it from Outside. However, we then encountered it next in Tasiin.
In Tasiin
Yes. Ever since then, we have felt it distantly. We feel the similarities in you. It is only an echo of a whisper, but it is there.
Sannel, for some reason, felt confined, even claustrophobic in the arrangement of the Bentusi ship. I am – I believe I am descended from him. That might be the reason.
Perhaps, replied the Bentusi. However, that alone cannot account for all of the similarities.
Sannel did not know what else to say, or even if she should say anything else. Still, she forced herself to ask one more question.
What do you know of the Lost?
We have known of them since the First Time, began the Bentusi. A few of us succumbed to hyperspace in that time. When we are together, though, we can call each other back.
So you do not fear becoming Lost?
We fear. However, becoming Lost is beyond our control. We have learned over the millennia to accept it, as we have accepted death.
Sannel decided that she had had enough. She withdrew from the Bentusi ship, back into her own.
We will listen for you.
Sannel said nothing as the Bentusi ship slid into hyperspace.
How did you do it, Tasiin, Datlai? How did you become used to them? How did you become used to all of it?
Perhaps, she thought, it would be better to divert herself with Kaltar.

The Reflection

4th Oct 01, 5:38 PM

6
Guardians of the Line
”They are forgetting already. They do not remember what it is all about.”
“I know.”
”Why…why must they always distort everything we went through to fit their views?”
“…It is part of the cycle of each generation. Each one learns only a part of the wisdom of the ones before, but they do find new truths. It is hard to watch children stumble, but we must let them…So that someday they will grow up and exceed us.”
“But they aren’t learning. They are forgetting.”
“I know.”

Tasiin and Datlai Limandatt’sa

The ethereal, ghostly Dream ships gathered in hyperspace.
Glaan watched the others arrive, uniting themselves. He formed a link between him and all of the others.
We have arrived. Now, we will watch. At the…request of Selta we will begin the process.
There is a Bound ship near, Selta said.
Yes, replied Glaan. Disorient them. Glaan looked at the two ships with his ship’s senses. You have been waiting for this, Selta, and you have insisted upon it ever since the unfortunate death of Nilsa. We have seen no need of this…especially if we risk our position. But with the Ancestors’ return, we must be sure, and so we heed your advisement.
I understand, Selta replied.
While we have had deep concerns, we also see potential. You will agree with our decision.
And if-
You will, Glaan stated.
Yes.
Focus on the task, Glaan said.

The Telana glided through hyperspace.
Kaltar was beginning to grow restless with the endless hyperspace travel. There never seemed to be enough time – how many lives would end, how many gone forever from the realm of the living, while they were moving through hyperspace.
Sannel always seemed distracted whenever she was in hyperspace, so she was usually no company.
The only company he really had was himself, and ever since the war started, he did not want to face himself.
They did not even really have success in their mission. After weeks of searching, the only thing of actual value found was the Shekelu and the Bentusi information on the Enemy. Neither would turn the tide of the war, despite the Elders’ gratitude.
He heard Sannel take in a breath. At least that meant something was happening. Kaltar turned towards her.
“I’ve seen that look on your face before.”
“I…perhaps we should…change course to the Nelta 4315 derelict…” Sannel suggested.
“We did decide to go there next,” Kaltar replied. “It is in the other direction, though. If we absolutely need to, we could…Do you have a reason why we should turn around?”
Sannel seemed to contemplate it for a moment, and then carefully answered, “No.” She looked disappointed.
Even the Hiigarans aren’t immune to the mysteriousness of the Unbound, Kaltar thought. No wonder the Elders are so enamored of them.
In retrospect, Kaltar wondered if he should have asked more. But once her mind was set on not answering him, she would always try to sidestep the issue.
At least, that gave Kaltar something to think about. Kaltar wondered what thoughts could have made Sannel bring up the idea of changing course…what she thought of him, whether he was a microscopic annoyance, or a companion…whether she was really as lonely as he was. It was rumored that Hiigaran ships were intelligent, and perhaps they could talk to each other over great distances, but still this must be almost like an exile to her.
“Delegate Kaltar-“ the commander of the Telana interrupted.
“What is it?” demanded Kaltar.
“There appear to be several possible anomalies nearing us.”
“What are they?”
“We are unsure. Some may be artifacts of our sensors, but they seem to be consistent-“
“I can detect them,” Sannel whispered. “I can feel them…barely, but…they are ships…surrounding us…”
“Commander, can we change course?” Kaltar asked.
“Yes, but-“
Reality fractured. His surrounding no longer felt real or relevant. Kaltar felt tired, disorientated.
“Can you…” he began, but did not finish the question. It was no longer important, none of it.
Latal, he thought. For a moment, she was standing to his left. He reached out to her-
Latal.
She disappeared with a flash of light. The light of her soul was transcending this place, going to the Realm of the Elders, the final destination of all.
He turned around to Sannel.
Sannel.
Her image faded, shimmering, until it was as if she had never been.
He looked again to where Latal had been. Her radiant self was gone. But it had left an afterglow, as all Zaala always did, an echo caught in the vessel which once held her.
Kaltar remembered the funeral ceremony, the partaking of that last piece of her spirit, her soul.
The priest held the glass vial, filled with dark red liquid, purified blood from Latal, that afterglow contained within.
“One,” said the priest with a supernatural calm, “To the ancestors, the Greater Elders who guide us in the realm of the living, so that the soul may be present with the people through the generations, whispering to our descendants.”
Kaltar took the antique container, centuries old, and with infinite care opened it. The priest put a drop of her blood in it, to join that of all of his ancestors now in the Realm of the Elders.
“One to the One, those who made her happy, who gave her life meaning, who know her like no others, so that the soul may be present with her loved ones, soothing their grief and accompanying them forever.”
But Latal’s one consisted only of herself and Kaltar, created with their marriage. They had not had time to have children. He was the One.
The priest poured a few drops into a small cup, giving it to Kaltar. This was all that was left of her that he could touch.
He drank of it. For a moment, he could feel warmth accompany it, as if Latal was passing into him, joining with him forever. But the warmth faded almost instant, and it did nothing for grief.
“And one to the Universe, which was born in fire with the Greatest Elder, the place where all life starts, that which accompanies the high realm from which the Greatest Elder listens and watches, so that the soul may join with all of the infinite beauty and forever be linked with that which is living.”
The priest poured the blood into a gold container, with a single diamond set into it. The priest sealed it – permanently – and gave it to him.
Some joined the Universe on the Zaala homeworld, others joined Jekalte, the small gas giant the Zaala homeworld orbited, still others with the Zaala sun. Some were given to the Hiigarans and taken to Hiigara. A few joined the Universe at the very center of the Galaxy, at the central black hole, or even were launched out of the Galaxy.
But Latal had never really discussed with him where she would join the Universe. She saw no need.
Kaltar knew of no place in the Universe that was a fitting monument. Kaltar knew of no way to let that last piece go.
He had not found a place for her, then.
He had not found a place for her, even now.
That afterglow was still with him, on the Telana.
Forgive me, Kaltar said. I am sorry…

Sannel felt all of her Unbound senses go numb, paralysis hitting her body. The connection between her ship and the Telana had been lost.
Ship! she called out.
The reply was muddy, distorted beyond recognition. The voice of her ship faded.
Ship…Kaltar…anyone…
All that she heard was the song of hyperspace, all around her, taunting her.
Sannel could feel herself fold into her Bound core. She forced open her eyes.
She was lying in a fetal position, in the sole seat – or bed – on the ship. Sannel remembered when she was last Bound like this, before her first trip to hyperspace.
No, I don’t want to be Lost!
Sannel. Her father tried to calm her down.
She could still reason out, rationalize what she was about to do, even after all this time.
…You said…you said the Unbound must listen to it…What about the Bound? Can I…
Sannel…
I don’t want to be Unbound!
Sannel could feel the shame rise up in her already. She looked around herself, finding her self trapped, encased in a silver sphere.
I don’t want to be Lost…
Her words echoed across the sphere.
Sannel looked into the sphere, seeing her face in reflection. She could see determination…hurt. As she stared, longer and deeper, the hurt became more and more prominent. Her surroundings and the sphere darkened, her reflection fading to twilight, then nothingness.
Who is doing this? she demanded.
Suddenly, she knew she was not alone.
Sannel could feel others, watching her, staring at her. She was helpless before them. They were testing her.
Why are you doing this?
They did not answer her. They showed no interest in her pleas.
But Sannel could feel another, different presence settle over her mind. It cloaked her, shielding her from them.
Calm. They cannot hear us, the Voice said.
Sannel instinctively tried to look at this newcomer, in the total darkness, but it came from all around her. The Voice was hard to discern…it combined with the distorted song of hyperspace with an eerie harmony.
Who are you? she asked.
Calm, came the reply.
Who are you?
For a moment, Sannel could sense amusement.
You do not know what you want, the Voice stated.
The Bentusi had said something similar. What do you mean?
Patience, replied the Voice. She could feel it swirling around her, in her.
Who are you?
The Voice was silent.
Surrounded by darkness, unending emptiness, Sannel lowered her head, burying her face in her hands, hiding from the Universe, hiding from the purposelessness of it all, hiding from herself, hiding from hyperspace, just as she did all of those years ago.
…I don’t want to be Lost…
She felt a hand on her shoulder.
Sannel remembered how as she tried to be Bound, her father had appeared to her, holographically, to try to talk to her. He had tried to reassure her, to reason with her. He had remained patient with her.
“Go away,” she had replied, turning away from him.
“Do you want to talk?” Datlai asked.
Sannel weakly nodded.

Glaan’s Dream ship orbited Sannel’s ship and the Bound vessel as they drifted in hyperspace, carried by inertia. The song of hyperspace caressed his ship. Glaan let it.
The results are coming in, Tolkan, one of the most devout followers of the cause, stated. She is showing signs of fear and despair.
That is to be expected. Only the strongest in the Line do not display those emotions in the Dream. Even Tasiin himself, before he left, found the experience unpleasant.
Selta spoke. Her emotions are overwhelming her…As they did when she was a child. I have said she is impractical and stubborn. Beyond that, she is unpredictable.
-However, Tolkan interrupted. For a moment she did block us out.
I felt it, Glaan agreed. She also sensed us. Did she block all of us?
Yes, replied Tolkan.
With the danger comes potential. The Line of Tasiin is our only defense against the Naggarok launchers, and will light the path Tasiin took. We must not expel her prematurely.
Yes, acknowledged Selta. But I am…concerned…with the Enemy nearing us.
We all are, Glaan said.
It has been suggested that we watch the Bound ship. Those aboard might influence Sannel, Tolkan said.
Interesting. If Sannel opens herself to one on the ship, it may provide a stabilizing factor for her, Glaan inferred. We will watch the Bound.
He could sense resentment from Selta.
Selta believed in the Line. But she held those in it to standards they could not attain. She was never satisfied, least of all with Sannel. To Selta, the Line must sacrifice their lives for the cause. She seemed to want Sannel to fail.
She was the antithesis of Nilsa, the most recent of the Guardians to die. Nilsa cared for the Line, especially Sannel. She still influenced them; it was at her insistence that the Guardians refer to their charges by name. In some ways, Nilsa had assumed the role of godmother to Sannel. And Sannel had never even known how much she had cared for her, never known when she finally had died.
Perhaps they both had their points. But it was not in the Guardians’ place to crush those in the Line with pressure. It was not in the Guardians’ place to comfort those in the Line. The Guardians’ purpose was to guide those in the Line to their destiny – by any means necessary – and to protect them from threats from the outside.
Concentrate.

“It’s strange,” Kaltar said, clasping the golden vial in his hands. “Ever since you left, the world seems to have lost some of its meaning.
“My duty to the clan, to the kindred, to the family, to the Bound… I am not quite as enthusiastic about it as I was. As a Delegate in the Galactic Council, I do try to retain my duty to the race. And I do still respect life – I would not want death on any of the others… Still I do think some of the Zaala are worrying about me.”
He looked at the container in his hands. The single inset diamond sparkled.
“I don’t think the T-Mat actually ever apologized for what they did. I can still feel anger rise up in me whenever I see one of their ships or hear them speak. But, no…I do not want revenge. During the first few days…but not now. It is simply…infuriating to watch them aloofly do whatever they want in their Megaships, Motherships…I do not want to think about what else they’ve been building in the millennia.”
The vibrant colors in the diamond shifted, transforming into one another, spectra radiating from the jewel.
“Sannel is actually not as much trouble as I first thought she would be. After the first encounter, she is quite approachable. Occasionally we’ll even talk…nothing important, just a simple conversation to pass the time. The other Zaala are so enthralled with the Hiigarans because they returned to Hiigara, as prophesized, are the most powerful race in the Council, they have not really taken advantage of us…but I’m not sure they really understand that one can sit down and talk with one – Although Sannel doesn’t really sit so much as float…”
He let out a laugh.
“I know, I shouldn’t be spending so much time talking to you. I can hear you chiding me as we speak. I am sure you have great things to do.”
He brought the vial to his face and softly kissed it. The diamond sparkled, and then the container vanished from his hands, as it must.

Sannel held herself, arms locked around her body, head bowed down.
“What do you want to talk about?” asked Datlai, from behind her.
Sannel did not answer, did not look up.
“I understand,” Datlai said. She started to move.
Sannel forced herself to Datlai.
Don’t let me be Lost…
But Datlai was moving to her side. Sannel let her gaze drift back downwards again. “I have seen that look before…on Tasiin…that worried, overwhelmed look. What is wrong?”
Sannel did not want to reply, did not want to be here.
Datlai cupped Sannel’s chin with a hand, pointing her face towards her. Sannel found herself looking into – being looked at by – those sad, yet strong eyes of her’s. Sannel felt childish, vulnerable. Lost.
“What is wrong?” Datlai asked again.
“You and Tasiin…you knew the Naggarok launchers were coming,” Sannel finally answered. She found her Bound voice weak. “You knew…and did nothing to stop them.”
“No, we did not.”
Sannel looked into her eyes. “Why?” She wanted to hurt her, for some reason.
Datlai’s gaze was not trying to wander off or distance itself from Sannel.
“Tasiin could have replaced Outside. He did not. He did to be responsible for universes. It was his choice.”
“And you…” Sannel was hungry for answers.
“I do not know why he acts as he does,” Datlai said. “If I was in his place, I would have assumed Outside’s place. Even now, I would. But I respect his decision.”
“Help…us…”
“I wish I could. But as we faced Outside alone, you must face the ancestors alone. You must find your own way.”
“Guide us, then,” Sannel pleaded. “You know what happened. You can…”
“Many people have tried to imitate Tasiin, but none have really succeeded. Tasiin found his own way, unwillingly, even. No one else can follow the same exact path. The lessons we learned are not the ones you need to learn. You – all of you – must find your own way.”
“But…I…”
Sannel’s protest dissolved before Datlai.
“I…”
Sannel closed her eyes and gripped herself even more tightly. Datlai gently stroke her face, letting it fall. She could feel her eyes burning, the prelude to the coming inevitable tears.
Datlai, Tasiin said.
I am here, Datlai replied.
The conversation reminded her of the ones her parents used to have, the ones Sannel would listen to, the ones her parents must have known she was listening to. Sannel knew he was near herself, opposite Datlai. She could not bear to open her eyes, to look into his face.
She has some of you in her, Datlai said.
And some of you, added Tasiin. And some of…
“I know you can hear me,” he said.
“Yes,” she replied softly. She found her eyes opening.
“You want something from us.”
“What do you want?” asked Tasiin. “What do you stand for?”
Sannel could hold her emotions back no longer. “I don’t know,” she whispered, trying to conceal her sobs. Sudden warmth flushed her face.
Disturbing, the Voice said. It reminded her of the song of hyperspace, which Sannel had forgotten about. Once again, the song taunted her.
“We have been through more than you…Yet we were alone,” Tasiin replied.
Are you trying to hurt me? Sannel asked him in her mind.
“Tasiin…she is in pain…” Datlai said.
“…We all are, Datlai,” Tasiin replied.
Yes. We are, the Voice added.
“Will none of you help me?” Sannel asked.
“You must learn…on your own,” Tasiin said. He moved past her, over to Datlai, leading her away, turning away from Sannel.
Sannel continued to cry out.
“But I love you.”
She was not sure where that came from. Yet she could not deny that it was true.
Both turned to her, once more. They had looks of worry and pity on their faces.
Tasiin and Datlai, bowed their head and left.
No. Sannel closed her eyes once more. Not Lost.
Don’t let me be Lost…

She is extremely unstable, Selta warned.
Yes. That I have seen, Glaan replied.
She is aimless.
Yes.
And a potential threat.
Yes.
So, we expel her, concluded Selta.
No.
What do you mean? she demanded. You agreed that she is a threat!
Yes, repeated Glaan.
But she stays?
Yes, stated Glaan. Her Dream is one of the strongest we have seen. Her thoughts come close to matching those of the Defeaters of Outside before they left. She convinced herself to go back when she tried to bind herself. She has sensed us. She has blocked us out on other occasions. We have seen several manifestations of her…gifts. She is strong.
But her self-control is weak.
Yes. But we must not destroy that potential.
Selta continued to argue. And if she should turn that potential against us…
Glaan made his annoyance with her arguing plainly apparent. …If our lives are necessary to advance those in the Line, we give them. There is no other way to those who follow the Defeaters of Outside.
The Bound ones, Tolkan began. One of them – possibly – shows a possible connection…
A stabilizing influence? asked Glaan.
Perhaps, Tolkan answered uncertainly. Or they could potentially destabilize each other.
Glaan considered it all for a moment.
We will assign one of us to watch over Sannel and the Bound one, Glaan said. I will remain in that one’s vicinity. Upon trouble, I will be there.
If there is trouble, you may be the first to die, Selta warned.
Yes. Bring them – slowly – out of their Dreams.
Glaan carefully and gradually deactivated his Dream ship. He formed a link with Sannel, as he maintained a link with the other Guardians.
What are you doing? demanded Selta.
Telling her who we are.
But-
-She will find out on her own. She already knows, in some way. There is no point in hiding from her.
You are starting to sound like Nilsa! Selta exclaimed.
A pause. Yes.

Sannel stirred. She felt a presence again, watching her. It was not Tasiin, not Datlai, not the Voice.
Why are you doing this? she demanded.
For your good. And so, for everyone’s good, replied the presence.
Why are you doing this to me?
You know why.
Why? Sannel asked once more. Her tears were dry, her eyes unable to produce more.
You are descended from the Defeaters of Outside…Tasiin and Datlai.
Sannel had suspected so all her life, and she had even told Kaltar so.
Yes. But many people would be. How many do you do this to? Why?
Not many, the other replied.
Before Sannel could speak again, he continued. How many siblings do you have?
None. What-
How many siblings does your father have? His mother? Her mother? Her father?
None, Sannel answered hesitantly, fitting it together. She had traced her ancestry back that far. But the Unbound rarely have siblings.
Rarely. But often enough…but your ancestors do not. You must see the pattern.
Sannel remained quiet.
The Line stretches all the way back to Tasiin and Datlai. Each generation has only one in the Line.
You are in the Line.
It sounded impossible. Yet, Sannel somehow knew it was true.
Who are you?
Your guardians, came the answer. Not friends. We are your enemies’ enemies. We watch over you, protecting you from all who may hurt you.
Sannel waited for more. Then she answered.
Go away.
The reply came instantly.
No.
We will always be with you.
Sannel shut him out of her mind. He still spoke, trying to make himself heard. But she paid no attention, ignoring him. Sannel drifted into awareness.

Kaltar opened his eyes.
“What…what happened?” he asked.
He turned, hoping to find Latal. She was not there. Naturally. She had left four years ago.
Instead, she found Sannel, hovering to his right. She appeared tired, as if she had been awake most of her nights, haunted by nightmares.
“Are you all right?”
“No…” Sannel replied. “Not that it matters…”
“Delegate Kaltar,” the commander of the Telana said.
“What is it?” Kaltar demanded.
“We wanted to know if you and Delegate Sannel have recovered.”
“We are…awake,” Kaltar answered. “What happened?”
“Unknown. We all passed out for an hour. Most of us…dreamt. We are recovering.”
“Good…good. Set course for the…Klaal 01-09-02 system.”
“Actually, our position in hyperspace corresponds to the destination,” the commander pointed out.
Sannel nodded. “Yes, it does.”
“Jump when ready.
Kaltar turned to Sannel. “Who did this?”
Sannel looked at him. “Guardians. Not friends. Not enemies.” Kaltar could see a resigned anger, that cold intent, appear on her face. “I do not care beyond that.”
“But-“
“I do not care,” Sannel repeated.
Kaltar did not ask any more questions.

Glaan assigned one of the younger – only a century old, yet still quite older than Sannel – but faithful, Junan, to watch over Sannel and the Bound vessel. The Dream ships began to disperse, changing course in hyperspace.
We will watch over her, Glaan said. As we always have. We are the sole guardians of the Line.
Despite the Kaaltow’s claims to the contrary, Selta sighed.
Yes. It is unfortunate our…acquaintances do not see the light of reality, Glaan answered.
The link between the Guardians of the Line of Tasiin closed. The Dream ships accelerated away, some in small groups, some in pairs, some alone.
Glaan’s Dream ship slowly moved, remaining near Junan’s ship.
We will watch.

The Reflection

4th Oct 01, 5:40 PM

Outside Cover Contest! Outside Cover Contest!
http://members.aol.com/wstar345/OutsideCover.jpg
Somehow, I always imagine the covers of Outside and NC being rather simple.
(I made this back in January but never had an oppurtunity to post it anywhere).
I suppose I'd like strings of equations written faintly in the background of the cover, with a shimmering circular distortion in that blank space, distorting the equations.
With NC, it'd be even simpler. A galaxy in the center, with the edges turned red; perhaps the background would be black in the center and red at the edges, so the galaxy is surrounded by red. The title would also be in red.

Next update anytime soon?
I'm afraid not. I'm putting it on hold until September 14th, to finish up the rough draft of the Senior Project. And to let Xellos catch up. ;) Don't worry, once chapter 7 is up, 8 will probably follow soon.

Yet another good, if slightly strange, chapter in NC!(or maybe it's just me reading this at 3AM)
No, no, it's not just you. Part of the reason it is strange is my reason. Kaltar has a little bit of strangeness around him; Sannel has more strangeness; and the Guardians are very strange.

Hm, what/who are these watchers?
They're Hiigaran.
They, with those in the Line of Tasiin, form the remnants of kiith Limandatt. Several millenia before, the Guardians arose for certain reasons. I actually have the reasons planned out, and one of these days I'm going to write a short(er) story, "The Line of Tasiin", that explains where they arose.

Don't they have anything better to do?
Don't you have anything better to do? :)
The Guardians have...a religion about the events surrounding Outside. They believe that Tasiin (and Datlai) were divine, in a way. They believe that those descended from his still have a piece of that power, and they believe that that power must be protected both from the outside and from themselves. And they believe it is the Line's destiny to follow the route laid out by Tasiin and become what he was becoming.
You might notice an interesting term of their's:
Glaan says Nilsa died. He's fairly blunt about it, and there is no euphemism.
But look at his choice of words for Tasiin and Datlai - They "left".

The Guardians, because they believe that the Line must lead the way for the Hiigarans on the path Tasiin took, believe in being Unbound. Hence, they themselves tend to steer away from any Bound habits - like representing themselves holographically. Also, while the Hiigarans aren't really physically connected to their ships - an implant keeps them in contact with the ship, even if they are off it - and thus are mobile, the Guardians are not mobile and are linked with their ships permanently. Their ships have no personal markings, but are completely black.

On the other hand, they possess more advanced technology than average Hiigaran ships - mainly, Dream ships are much harder to detect, and they can slip in and out of hyperspace without the energy spike that alerts every ship in the vicinity of an arrival. Weapons are about the same; hyperdrives are a little more powerful. And, of course, they can induce Dreams in the crew of other ships.

Once, the Guardians consisted of the close friends of those in the Line. Those in the Line were fully aware of their heritage, and had this sense of mysticism and tradition around them, and they thought that they had to carry on the Line, having one child who would assume the legacy of Tasiin in each generation. However, as millenia passed, the Guardians grew more powerful, and they started manipulating the Line more and more. They started keeping secrets from the Line. By the time of NC, Sannel only has an inkling that she's descended from Tasiin, and had no knowledge whatsoever of the Guardians.

They honestly do feel what they are doing is good for the Line, though. They are extremely secretive but rarely lie (what Glaan told Sannel was the truth). They watch but rarely act. They lurk in the shadows. And they are very, very manipulative.

But what I have given you is only a part of the story...

And in the shadows they will remain for a while more. They won't be visible in chapter 7, for example, but they are there. They always are.

Which brings me to chapter 7, of course. Not as weird or good as 6, but...it'll do. Like 5, the point of it is to provide a rest for the reader.
Don't worry. Chapter 8...oh, it'll be...interesting...

The Reflection

4th Oct 01, 5:42 PM

7
Games at the Edge of the Inferno
”Anomalous Worlds in Central Worlds [Hiigaran Space]…
Kharak classification:
Helnan 379-173-608-9 A, Helnan 496-250-099-17 D, Helnan 801-973-201-2 C, Helnan 1053-467-789-5 C, Helnan 1061-468-805-3 B, Thalquel 789 C, Thalquel 1040 B, Tel-Nel D, Zalana 469 A, Zalana 583 C, Zalana 601 F…
…Worlds generally have no biosphere besides unicellular organisms, abnormally high amounts of radiation, abnormal weather patterns, abnormal geological features (ex. ‘glassy’ deserts; one or two weathered, but large craters), possible remains of relics. Evidence suggests these anomalies occurred nearly instantly. Dating is imprecise, but the events appeared to occur roughly 1.1 million years ago…
…Given the events occurring in the Galaxy at that time, the cause is probably related to the Naggarok launchers…
…Assuming any inhabitants of these and other similar worlds scattered throughout the Galaxy survived, they may or may not respond favorably to us, given our common ancestors war…

Presented before Galactic Council
Meeting on Possible War with Ancestral Race
GSY 18702.2 (9468 AHL)

“Today the B’qula attacked a Taiidan fleet, destroying four carrier groups…and burning the world below. Casualties are unknown, but are believed to be…very high,” Takell stated. Kaltar noticed that his voice seemed stronger, as if something had awoken in him that had not been there before.
“As of now, the enemy controls almost one-third of the Galaxy…And as of now, they have began assaults on the Inner Rim worlds,” he continued, seeming to take in a breath. Kaltar was slightly perturbed by the last remark, since their journey, all complete except for Globular Cluster 079, was now taking them to the outer edge of Zaala territories in the Inner Rim. But the ripple of fear was already being subsumed by the waves of anger and fire running through his mind. He quieted his thoughts.
And yet Takell raised his head. “But – the war is not over yet. The Taiidan have begun full-scale assaults on the B’qula. Already there are scattered reports of victories. As the B’qula draw nearer to the Core, they will encounter stronger defenses. Unbound fleets patrol the area around the Galactic Core. And around the Central Worlds, the main Hiigaran fleet awaits, drawing the line against the Enemy.
“I know you all have lost much. And we still will lose more. But we – together – will prevail. All that we have done will not be in vain. We will survive.”
Takell bowed, and his image vanished.
“’We will survive,’” Kaltar repeated.
Sannel conjured an image of a B’qula fleet. Over a dozen Destroyers and three-dozen Frigates cruised by him. Looming before him was another grey hulk sliding across space. Kaltar knew he was looking at one of the largest vessels in the Galaxy, except perhaps asteroidal ships and a few of the largest motherships, spanning perhaps fifty kloms. The feared Battleship.
“Must I remind you of this?” Sannel asked. “Or this?”
Replacing the Battleship was now K’Basal in its final moments. Two flashes of light glimmered as the planet darkened before his eyes; black clouds choking the atmosphere. Seas boiled away, vegetation was stripped off the planet, as the smoke billowed, shielding K’Basal with its dark embrace.
“Perhaps if you actually believed in something you might experience hope for once,” said Kaltar.
“Let us not have that discussion again,” answered Sannel.
“Is something bothering you?”
No answer. Which of course meant he was right.
“Because even you generally are not this cynical,” he continued.
Have you no sense of mercy? asked Latal. Confrontation has its place, but not like this.
The thought shook him. But he most no let it shatter him now.
“It is Kharak. I just realized that it has been lost. I never did get to see it.”
He could answer, he must answer. He must show her he was not an enemy. That she could open up to him. That he was not the rage-consumed monster he knew himself to be.
Too late.
She sighed, that light bittersweet sound. That was the end of that subject.
Say something to her, Latal said.
It is too late. She has already made up her mind.
If you want her to open up, you must reach out to her first. She will not reach out to you.
What could I say to her?
Anything.
Kaltar searched through his mind, trying to find words appropriate for the situation.
Anything.
“Do you want to play a game?” Kaltar thoughtlessly asked. He immediately felt foolish for asking it. Sannel was a Hiigaran, not a child.
Yet, she looked up with an interested look on her face.
“You do know what a game is? Maybe the Bentusi and their kind don’t, but somehow I think your kind does.”
“My father and I used to play some games, when I was very young,” Sannel answered. “If you are considering those, I might add that it involves using Unbound senses to try to find new ways of describing the same area of space.”
“Conjure a ball,” Kaltar began. Even this step appeared to confuse Sannel. This is going to take a while.
“I have seen you create images of the Galaxy, and just now, Takell, holographically. Do the same thing, only instead of the Galaxy, create an image of a ball…a sphere. Not bigger than my hand.”
A glowing blue and grey-white sphere appeared before her.
“Now send it to me,” Kaltar added.
Hesitantly, the ball glided towards him. It floated, seemingly unaffected by gravity. Kaltar extended a hand, acting as if he could catch the illusory sphere.
The ball neared him, and like a ghost, seemed to glide into an invisible wall, as the hologram dissolved, passing the range of the projectors.
Kaltar could not help but smile. She cannot really help it. She is no more where I see her than anywhere else on this ship, all around me, if she even really is here at all. If he wanted to, he could pass right through her image, as if she was merely a spirit haunting him.
“This may be new to you, but pretend that the ball – and that image of yours – are real. As in being solid. They should, for example, have weight-“ And he looked at Sannel, and then the floor which lay several inches below. She frowned, also turning her head, as if realizing for the first time that she should apparently be about to plummet.
“At least the image of the ball should have weight.” Sannel’s frown faded. “That means it should arc across the air. And it should bounce off solid objects.”
“And the point of all of this?” she asked.
“To keep it in the air…and more importantly, not be injured by it.”
She nodded, and another glowing blue-white sphere, this one with a translucent membrane appeared before her. After a brief pause, it sailed over to Kaltar, arcing rather gracefully to him. It seemed to touch his hand, the image starting to crumble, but then changed before him, into a red and yellow sphere and returned to its sender. She watched the ball, moving her hand to intercept it, palm outwards. The ball again transformed into the blue and grey-white instantly, and careened back to him.
“Better,” said Kaltar. “Good-“
Sannel conjured up another ball, and before he could react, it was sent his way. Kaltar had to move quickly to avoid it crashing into him, and before he could rest the first one was returning. Yet Kaltar began finding a rhythm after a few tries.
And then Sannel created a third one.
And another after that.
Both of them seemed to be constantly moving their hands, Kaltar sometimes about to fall out of his seat, trying to juggle all four at once. Kaltar found himself missing – although another would take its place.
She flashed a mischievous smile. A row of spheres appeared between them. She merely touched them, and they responded to her command.
There was no practical way to return them all. But he seemed to only need to touch them now for them to bounce back. He counted perhaps five or six that he could return.
A new row formed before him. She was playing fairly at least. Kaltar dispatched them, and she even missed some.
Sannel didn’t seem to be tiring of this, even when she found herself constantly missing some. She continuously created more, expanding the game, making rows, columns, walls, floating balls in the center. The next few minutes were a blur of color and motion.
Kaltar was beginning to lose ground. He was nearing exhaustion, when he noticed a curving, translucent wall between them. All of the balls bounced off of it. It was then he realized he was at the focus at the curve – they were all returning towards him. From all different directions, a swarm of them came hurtling towards Kaltar. He was overwhelmed.
Kaltar heard Sannel laughing, although not just at the trick she had just played on him, but just at the innocence of it all, that she did not have to take it seriously, he knew. And Kaltar realized he was laughing too. He had forgotten what it was like, how good it felt.
As they began to quiet, Kaltar accused, “You cheated.” And they both continued laughing.
“-gate Kaltar,” interrupted the Telana’s commander.
“What is it?”
“We have arrived at the Tilnak 37 system.”
“Jump to normal space then,” Kaltar ordered.
The blue glow of hyperspace jumps enveloped him, Sannel’s image flickering as contact between the two ships was lost momentarily.
An image of the planet ahead appeared as the Telana returned to normal space. Great deserts and basins straddled the equator, with small polar seas, and tiny green patches of forest studded throughout. A strange-looking, almost perfectly circular sea lay in the southern hemisphere, rings of mountains seeming to radiate out from it. A rather large moon orbited the planet.
But what was striking about his world was its ring. A broad, smooth, brown-grey ring circled the world. Jekalte had rings, but they were thin, dark, irregular circles, like an afterthought. But this, it seemed to be a frame for the planet, holding it secure. They were passing under it; it was like a celestial ceiling for the Telana.
I wish Latal was here to see this, Kaltar thought.
And already I am beginning to slip back into old patterns. Must I always do this whenever we go somewhere? Kaltar asked himself.
At least Sannel appeared oblivious to his inner turmoil, a smile on her face. At least one of us can enjoy this.
“Can you detect the relics on the planet from here? What about the artificial satellites?” Kaltar tried to shift his attention away from…that. Sannel had instant access to powerful Hiigaran scanners. Often she could tell in minutes whether to move on or not, as she recited their findings.
She nodded. “There definitely was something on the planet – perhaps a city – but it appears partially destroyed. There are metallic fragments under the surface, to a depth of several hundred meters. However, they do not seemed to be arranged in any particular geometrical pattern… Metallurgically, the metals do not match typical metals found in cities…”
“And the satellites?” he inquired.
“…They appear to be defense satellites…almost all completely destroyed, but there are traces of what appear to be rudimentary ion or other particle cannons, of some sort. While they do not appear to be advanced, they are apparently rather powerful…”
“So how does our Hiigaran representative feel about this place?”
“It is interesting…although I doubt anything here would be of use against the Enemy…but it is the most promising thing yet,” she answered. “Shall we?”
“Of course.”
The two ships pushed closer to the planet below, sliding under the cathedral-like ceiling of the ring.
“I am going to run a few scans on the ring, Sannel announced. “There’s something about it…Yes. The ship is telling me that the large moon should be setting up resonances in the ring that would alter the orbits of, or eject – the rings are young. Perhaps only a few hundred thousand years; no more than two or three million.”
“While you’re at it, check the planet and see if there is anything of interest,” Kaltar added.
“If you had wished for me to be your library, you should have said so,” she replied.
“I figured I would take advantage of the opportunity while you were still playing the part.”
Sannel sighed. “The planet is well situated in the habitable zone of the star, and so should be well-suited for life…”
Her voice quieted though.
Perhaps it was not as foolish a request as you thought.
“The atmosphere is relatively thin, barely enough to sustain life. The biosphere appears degraded with only a few large organisms surviving…There appears to have been massive recent geological activity. In the southern hemisphere, there seems to be a huge impact crater…the materials at the floor of the crater…they should be more typical of the mantle. It is as if the crust of the planet was shattered at that point; nothing resembling plate tectonics works there. The deserts have high…glass concentrations…and the entire planet is producing high amounts of radiation. Kaltar…this world was burned.”
“Are you sure? In all of recorded history-“ he protested.
“I did not see it at first, but even if you look at it…it does not look right. The oceans seem dried up….you can see the crater clearly…and aside from small areas of forest, there is no sign of life. It just is not right.”
“When did this happen?” Kaltar asked.
“It is hard to – “ she stopped.
“Yes?”
“About 1.1 million years ago,” she finally finished. She remained in thought, her eyes distracted by something.
The B’qula, Kaltar realized. “Do you believe that the inhabitants of the world had anything of value? If they were fighting a war like we are, they may have developed something of use, but had not time to deploy it. Where do you think we should look?” He knew he was becoming incoherent, asking obvious questions just for the sake of saying something. But he could not bear to believe that he was right over the site of a massacre by the very enemy that was getting closer every day.
Sannel did not even seem to hear him.
“Sannel…”
An alert sounded through the Telana.
“Delegate Kaltar to bridge. What is going on up there?” he demanded.
“We are detecting numerous anomalies around us. They do not appear in any way to be hyperspace signatures,” the commander reported. “They do bear some similarities to wormholes, but it is hard to be sure…”
“Who-“ began Kaltar.
“Ships appear to be emerging – it’s hard to get a fix on them. Had they appeared any farther away, we would not have noticed them at all.”
“Who are they?”
“The inhabitants return,” Sannel cryptically answered.
“Sannel,” Kaltar repeated, as if that could reveal some answers.
“Scans seem to have trouble discerning them,” continued the commander. “But the silhouettes of the ships we can read appear to be…Kt’tik’kar. “
The Tik? wondered Kaltar. He tried to search his memory, having heard of them occasionally. They were one of the few races not in the Council, galactic isolationists who rarely made their presence felt aside from small scale attacks…Yet they were one of the oldest races in the Galaxy, predating even the Bentusi. Various attempts had been made over the millennia to either negotiate or attack them, yet they proved elusive. But what are they doing in our space?
“The Tik ships appear to be moving toward us…approaching us relatively rapidly…whatever they came out of must have propelled them forward. They may be on attack vectors,” the commander added. “The hyperdrive module has not been charged yet. Powering up weapons.”
“No,” Sannel said.
“What do you mean?” Kaltar asked.
“Is there something wrong, Delegate?”
“Do not power the Telana’s weapons yet. Delegate Sannel and I are deciding on a course of action. Sannel, what do you mean?”
“…There is too many of them to attack. My ship has trouble scanning them as well, but there is at least seventy of them. They travel in swarms. …But they are not here for us.”
“And what do you suggest? Letting them glide right past us?”
Sannel finally looked at him. “Yes. If we do not draw their attention, they will ignore us…for now.”
“This is Delegate Kaltar to bridge. Do not engage the Tik or provoke them. Begin charging the hyperspace module. Let them pass.”
“Delegate Kaltar?”
“I request this at the insistence of Hiigaran Delegate Sannel.” At least that should end the discussion. Most Zaala did not have the nerve to question a Hiigaran any more than they would question their own Elders.
“Understood.”
A view of the space around the Telana shimmered into existence in front of Kaltar. There were dozens of anomalies trailing the two ships, closing in. It was beginning to unnerve him.
“Show me what it appears like visually.”
The image changed to a view gazing rearwards. Nothing appeared readily visible; Sannel highlighted where the Tik ships would be. Seconds stretched into minutes as the ships slowly overtook them.
The Tik vessels grew, their great solar sails becoming plainly visible. The sails even seemed to beat slightly – they must be making course corrections in their passive gliding.
The ships neared – fine details on the ships becoming visible – closer, closer -
-And began one by one, passing the Telana and Sannel’s ship as if they were not even there. For minutes, the swarm slid passed them, paying no notice.
“This is a little odd,” Kaltar commented.
“Hyperspace inhibitor field detected!” shouted the commander.
“Sannel, you said-“
“It’s B’qula! Enemy ships circling around planet on inertialess drives! Closing in rapidly!”
“Why – Show me them!”
Again the scene changed, this time to a quartet of Frigate, around a Destroyer. The starships silvery ion cannons blazed into space. Fighters swirled around the area, their weapons constantly firing.
The first of the Tik sailships appeared. Ion cannons slashed one, two, four, six. And yet more came, slipping in quietly from all directions. Silvery beams swung wildly, as if desperate to hit something. One of the Frigates rotated, a pale, spectral shaft of light emanating from it, destroying a Tik ship instantly. But the Tik were overwhelming the B’qula with sheer numbers, latching onto the ships from a distance, descending upon the ships, attaching themselves to them like parasites on giants. Fighters began ramming into approaching Tik vessels, and when that failed, they frantically dived into the larger vessels, their explosions blowing off a few of the Tik. The Destroyer’s ion cannons began to cease; three Frigates oriented themselves towards the Destroyer, bombarding it with gravity waves, leaving gaping holes in the now derelict ship. The Frigates themselves began to lose control, their ion cannons cutting off. The Tik ships lined the hulks of the derelict B’qula like an infestation.
“This is bigger than we first thought,” said Kaltar.
“We were not here first…we are merely the latest victims,” added Sannel.
“The hyperspace inhibitor field has collapsed!” came the voice from the bridge.
Kaltar took one last look at the planet.
“I have the scans from the planet. I doubt anything is useful, but…”
He still took a few more seconds, then shook himself.
“Set course for Globular Cluster 079. Jump!”
The blue glow of the jump engulfed him.

Greenstone

4th Oct 01, 6:21 PM

At last. . . Sigh. . . it has once more appeared!

dzurlord

4th Oct 01, 7:44 PM

Wow. This is an in-between chapter? Now I have to wonder how much I will be impressed by 8:confused: :eek: :D That link doesn't send me to the cover picture btw:(

Xellos

4th Oct 01, 9:29 PM

Heeheehee!!!

I love these guys! :D

Too bad so many of them died in the assault... but to destroy the Great Enemy, any price is good enough. No? ;)

And if you thought *this* was fun... bwahahahaha!!! Oh, what's to come... you'll want to kill the two of us, I'm sure. ;) Though it's mostly Brian's genius here, I've just supplied a few ideas. :D

The beauty of that scene... I am reminded of Vorlon and Mimbari ships on Babylon 5... that type of visual with the solar sails fluttering in the solar wind... :)

The Reflection

7th Oct 01, 8:15 PM

I bet none of you were expecting an update this fast! :D
I actually always wanted to surprise you with a chapter written and uploaded in a few days. I toyed with the idea for 6, but ended up being impractical because of the Senior Project. While I still have a lot of assingments, I made time.

Wow. This is an in-between chapter? Now I have to wonder how much I will be impressed by 8
Indeed...

Heeheehee!!!
I love these guys!
Well, heh heh, maybe it has something to do with, heh, the fact that you, heh heh heh, created them? ;)

And if you thought *this* was fun... bwahahahaha!!! Oh, what's to come... you'll want to kill the two of us, I'm sure.
No, if you kill me, then you get no more chapters of NC. It'd be more practical to merely go after Xellos to find out what he knows. ;)
But there are things I am keeping from even him.
Like the contents of this chapter. This is the first of the three great secrets I mentioned to him. The events here will be as much of a surprise to him as to you.

This chapter is dark. Very dark. But it is the most important chapter so far. It's probably more important than all of the others combined. (Perhaps excluding 6...maybe.) Be forewarned. It will not have the lightheartedness of 7. But it is necessary.

Here it is.

The Reflection

7th Oct 01, 8:17 PM

8
Globular Cluster 079
”So you believe there is nothing of value in the star cluster?”
“I did not say that. There may be something there.”
“But you advised against any further exploration there.”
“I still advise against it.”
“How do you justify that?”
“The whole place…is wrong. If you can recall the old legends of kalnen visiting victims in the middle of the night, watching them, you will get an idea of what it simply feels like to be in the area. No one, not even the Hiigarans themselves, belong in that place.”
“You would not even approve of small, infrequent missions to the cluster?”
“If I had a choice, no one would ever enter that star cluster ever again.”

Commander Leket and Elder Tenim of the Tel clan
Proceeds on Exploratory Mission of Globular Cluster 079
GSY 18163 (8913 AHL)

“You have done well, Delegate Kaltar,” Great Elder Kelak praised. “Your Elders have nothing but praise for you. You have catalogued most of the assigned sites. While there was not much to work with, you have pulled through. The researchers are devising new alloys with which they feel they can better resist B’qula weapons. The information you acquired from the Bentusi is being thoroughly analyzed by tacticians and strategists. And then there is the matter of the Shekelu…we see great potential there.”
“Thank you,” replied Kaltar, bowing. “I am honored to serve my people.”
“Now comes the final and most important portion of your journey. We have sent various expeditions into Globular Cluster 079, cataloguing thousands upon thousands of stars,” the Great Elder began. “Naturally, with several hundred thousand stars, any compilation of the cluster will be incomplete. However, expeditions passing through the area have noticed regions where the ‘strangeness’ is concentrated. We are sending you a list of destinations, ranked by priority. These systems are where our experts feel you will have the greatest success.”
The Elder became quieter. “The people are beginning to fear. More and more withdraw… or are going mad. The Enemy has not touched our space besides in border skirmishes – of which I congratulate you in surviving one – but in weeks, months… You and others can do much for your people. They need heroes, but too many, I fear are only getting fear.
“Do well in your mission. It will be appreciated.
“There have been many stories of the place that you are about to enter…tales that say fear enters all who enter Globular Cluster 079. Stand proud, Delegate Kaltar.”
“I will,” replied Kaltar. Talking to the Great Elder made him feel alive, proud to be doing something positive. Yet the expectations weighed down on him, threatening to bury him. And something made him feel sick to his stomach.
“I know you will. May the Elders guide your path.”

Fear enters all who enter Globular Cluster 079, the Great Elder had warned. He could feel it in himself, noticed the quietness of the crew whenever he passed them in the hallway.
But it had entered Sannel as well. That was what scared Kaltar the most. For the past few weeks, she had teased him for believing in tales of a haunted star cluster. Beyond that, she was Hiigaran, Unbound; surely she, of any of them, would be immune. But if anything, it was amplifying her fear.
Sannel had been distant all day, deep in thought, apparently. Kaltar had learned to live with such mysterious behavior, but now it was beginning to worry him.
“We must turn back,” Sannel said.
“But why? You haven’t given me a reason,” Kaltar replied.
“There…is something there.”
“Sannel, that is the point. We are trying to find something, anything that might be useful.”
“That is not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“We cannot go there.”
“Why not?”
“We do not belong there.”
“Why not?”
“Because we cannot go there,” Sannel answered.
“Now we are merely going around in circles,” Kaltar said. “Sannel, I have orders from the Great Elder. My people depend on me. But, if you can give me something substantial, I may be able to convince them to your point of view. Tell me, why can’t we enter Globular Cluster 079?”
There was certainty in here eyes. Purposefulness in her face. But Kaltar could see…fear. Never had he seen her this afraid. Something was going on.
“Because we cannot go there. Especially not to our first target.”
“…How do you know this?”
Sannel opened here mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, she merely looked at him, expecting him to say something.
Kaltar sighed. What could he say? He could not turn his back on his duty. But he could not ignore Sannel either.
“…I know you do not want to go there. But give me something to work with. Anything.”
“…It is…a feeling I have. There is something wrong about this place.” Before Kaltar could speak, she continued, ”It…I know that if we go there…we will…” She did not bother to finish.
“So you believe something bad will happen to us,” Kaltar summarized.
“Yes.”
“We will…face death.”
She nodded.
“And something is making you believe this.”
“Yes.”
“And you want us to turn around.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Now.”
Kaltar tried to consider it, but could not. He had talked with the Great Elder; in and of itself that was an honor. He could not simply ignore his orders on her whim. Yet he was intrigued. He wondered what could possibly be making Sannel act like this.
“I am afraid that is not enough,” he finally said.
“We must turn around now while we still can.” Sannel was turned towards him, her eyes intense, her face full of expectation. With every passing second, her mouth was falling into a frown. She genuinely wanted them to leave.
But Kaltar could not accept it. Not on only a feeling of hers. Duty dictated otherwise. The Great Elder dictated otherwise. The other Zaala dictated otherwise. The whole war dictated otherwise. He had not choice.
Sannel’s voice was quiet, melancholy, almost a whispher. “Kaltar…if you have any…any trust in me…” she pleaded, “…We will turn around.”
Kaltar had to look away from her. This was becoming painful. He could not bear to see her begging like this.
He shook his head. Sannel turned away.
There had to be a compromise. There must be a way to satisfy everyone, he thought in desperation. “We could…we could just jump in for a few minutes and then return to hyperspace… It will only take a few minutes,” he stuttered. She was not listening to him.
“…You could even remain in hyperspace…you could stay, while the Telana jumps… Only – only for a few minutes…we could work from there. Sannel – Sannel…”
None of it was getting through to here. Kaltar doubted she was even listening at all. It did not matter. He had let her down, and that was the end of the discussion.
I am sorry, Sannel, he apologized mentally. I…wish there was something I could do…

Sannel huddled in her ship. The ship was quietly reporting that they were nearing their destination. With each second, dread continued to build up.
But it was inevitable. Either she and Kaltar must go together, or not at all. There was no other way.
The song of hyperspace taunted her.
Kaltar’s ship was decelerating, slowing, stopping. There was no turning back now. Sannel commanded her ship to jump with Kaltar’s.
She plummeted out of trans-hyperspace.
There were others here, talking amongst themselves. They noticed them, knew she was here. They were watching them, studying, probing them. Sannel felt their presence press on her mind.
Their attention was focused on her. Words were floating to her, echoing in her mind. The words filled her, overpowering her.
Sannel huddled in her ship.

The Telana returned to hyperspace, the glow of hyperspace fading. Kaltar had ordered it to immediately start charging its hyperspace module. With luck, we’ll be out of here soon, he thought. An image of space appeared before Kaltar.
This system, with a rather forgettable designation, was located in the very center of the area of highest “strangeness,” on the periphery of the cluster. Probes had surveyed the system, finding evidence of artifacts on a moon-sized planetoid in the ancient system. Resource concentrations were high. This system was an ideal place to look for technologies and derelicts that could help them in the war.
The globular cluster’s central region was visible as a brilliant yellow-white patch looming ahead. The glow lit Kaltar’s face with the light of thousands of ancient suns. Thousands of bright stars were immediately discernable, like gems set in the night. The galaxy spread out beneath them; here, 2,500 light years above the galactic plane, it was like a blue-grey floor, the core to the side. There were a third of a million stars here, concentrated into a few hundred light years, all as old as, even predating the Galaxy itself. It should be beautiful.
But it was foreboding to Kaltar. Something weighed heavily on his mind. He felt like he was slowly suffocating, paralyzed, in danger. The legends were true. No wonder Sannel was acting so strangely.
The star, 079-146-798-353, was hardly a star anymore, glowing dimly. It had long since passed its red giant glory and now was a degenerate white dwarf, a sole ember from a once great bonfire. In the background, its planetary nebula, shells of gas thrown off fitfully in its days of glory, glowed very faintly, almost impossible to see. This system was dying, fading, dead.
The planetoid – apparently a moon missing its planet, lay ahead. The surface was barely lit by the dead sun and the cluster, and even then was a dark, cold grey. The world was shrouded in eternal darkness. The once-smooth surface was gouged by craters, rifts, and deep chasms, dozens of kilometers deep. They crisscrossed, meandering, disjointed. The edges were perfectly sharp. Kaltar had never seen anything like them. As he gazed more, he saw craggy knobs on the planetoid, some almost spire-like.
This could not be natural. But it looked wrong. There was order here, but it was alien, beyond his comprehension. It was artificial, but not made by anything remotely like his kind.
He shivered.
The legends are true, the realization hit him. Someone lives, or at least lived here in Globular Cluster 079.
Kaltar looked upon Sannel. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, her lips moving as if she was saying something.
“Sannel,” he said.
She looked at him, her sudden gaze disturbing him. “No,” she whispered. After a few moments her voice rose weakly from her throat. “Who are you?”
No answer came, from anywhere.
“Who are you?” Sannel asked again, her voice regaining its strength. She was looking at him. She wanted him to answer.
No, Kaltar corrected himself, apprehension clogging his throat, his heart beating faster. That is not…those are not Sannel’s words…Someone else is talking to us…through her. It reminded him of ancient legends of speakers and oracles for the Greater Elders, of millennia ago, who surrendered themselves so that the Elders may speak. But the speakers had to be willing, actively seeking the Elders. Sannel certainly did not seek…whoever was talking to them, these 079s.
But I must reply.
“I am Delegate Kaltar of the Zaala race, on the diplomatic ship Telana, accompanied by Delegate Sannel of the Hiigarans,” Kaltar began. He let words flow out of him, like reciting a speech.
“We all represent the Galactic Council, an alliance of races dedicated to peace and common defense. We come in peace.” Kaltar tried to stress the last sentence as much as possible. Sannel – or whoever he was talking to, Kaltar could not tell which, seemed to be studying him.
“We…we have come to find assistance – help from whatever and whoever will give it,” he continued. “A very old…very warlike race has come here: the B’qula. They wish to kill us all, everyone who is not B’qula. We have already lost much fighting them and we need help.” He was starting to repeat himself.
“We know who you speak of,” Sannel, they, replied. Kaltar was unsure if this was a good thing. “You are related to them.”
“Yes, we…once, a million years ago…”
They waited for him to continue.
In order for them to know about the B’qula, these 079s must be… hundreds of thousands of years old.
“One-third of the Galaxy has fallen to the B’qula. We are fighting them as well as we can, but we are destined for failure.”
“We have fought this race.”
Kaltar was surprised. They weren’t only hundreds of thousands of years old, but at least a million years in age.
“They came from elsewhere,” Sannel / the 079s continued. “In there great ships, in great numbers. They moved faster than light itself. Whole fleets, planets fell before them. They could not be stopped. We lived in the Core. They came. For years we fought. They slaughtered us, all in their way. They destroyed our homes. We had no hope.
“We build arks to escape. But we were limited to less than light. Relativistic speeds. And they hunted us. Slaughtered us. They set off supernovae, dozens, hundreds…hard radiation raining on an entire galaxy. Killing. Our arks were destroyed. One limped to this place. All others died. We are the survivors.”
Kaltar felt sympathy for them. I only lost Latal, but they…they lost their entire race, everyone they held dear. The grief they must have experienced would be unbearable. Kaltar felt similar to the 079s, a moment of shared cosmic sadness.
Sannel’s eyes were sad, overwhelmed. Kaltar saw that grief reflected in here eyes. But was it theirs…or hers?
“And now they have returned.”
“They will pay for what they have done. We will have our revenge,” Sannel answered, anger starting to build up in her voice, although it sounded forced…
“You can help us,” Kaltar said. “You have fought them before. You know where they are strong and where they are weak. We can exchange technologies, defend each other. And we can stop them, now and forever.”
There was a pause.
“No help,” they replied through Sannel.
No?
“What do you mean?” Kaltar asked. “What…”
Sannel shouted the response. “No help!” they repeated. She shook with the words, as if trying to hold them in, but they exploded out of her. Her eyes were still sad, pleading with Kaltar, filling with tears. That was not rage-filled entities, but Sannel.
“We will have revenge,” the 079s said.
Elders guide us! Kaltar thought. What had he been thinking?
“Bridge, this – make an emergency jump to hyperspace an get us away from here. Now!” He turned to Sannel. “Sannel, if there’s any part of you that can hear me, we’re jumping. I’m sorry…” He braced himself, for the jump, the hyperdrives activating.
Nothing happened.
“Delgate, a massive hyperspace inhibitor field has gone up!” shouted the commander of the Telana, afraid beyond recognition. “Orders of magnitude beyond anything ever encountered before! Elders…” The commander muttered a prayer.
“We will have our vengeance. There is no escape.”

They were like giants surrounding Sannel. Their words boomed around her, echoing endlessly. She could not even hear her own thought, her own cries.
They hated them. They hated her. And Sannel had lost any voice with which she could protest.
She could feel a familiar presence. Ship. It was paralyzed with her, paralyzed by her, by her link with it. It was huddling, crying out for help.
There was the other connection, the Bound one. Kaltar. She could cut that off. But, no, she must not. The connection was all, the connection was life.
The watchers, the Guardians, the ones she wanted to go away. Two were here. They tried to reach her, shield her, groping in the dark, desperately trying to hold them out, and failing. They were powerless here.
Stop, Sannel protested to the 079s. Stop, go away, leave me alone!
They did not. She was drowning in their rage, sinking, in the dark, lost, alone.

“Why are you doing this?” demanded Kaltar.
“They must pay. You must pay,” they shouted through Sannel. “You are from them.”
“We are fighting them!” Kaltar exclaimed.
“They have fragmented. But all of you are enemies. You all slaughtered us.”
You are insane! Kaltar thought.
“The revenge will begin. Our retribution will be carried out, the 079s stated.
Kaltar could hear a sob through the words. Sannel. What have I done?
Kaltar took in a breath. They were around him. He could feel them. He could hear their words in his mind. They were overwhelming him.
He knew the answer before he asked the question. “What do you want of us? What do you expect?”
Sannel closed her eyes, a hand moving up, clutching her head. Her expression turned into sheer pain. She was fighting it, but it was futile. The words bubbled out of her.
“YOU WILL DIE. EACH OF YOU. ALL OF YOU. DIE.” Every word, seized Sannel; she convulsed with the intensity.
“You cannot do this to us!” Kaltar screamed at them.
“YOU KILLED US. YOU SHOWED US NO MERCY. YOU MUST DIE.
“DIE.”
“You!…” Kaltar wanted to end this. They were destroying Sannel, killing her. He was losing her, as he had lost Latal. Never again…Never again! He wanted to destroy this planetoid, burn it to ashes, vaporize the ashes, break the vapors into subatomic particles, crush the particles out of existence. He would kill every one of the. He wanted to destroy it all-
-No! He restrained his thoughts with whatever strength he could summon. The fire within him was exploding. He was becoming them. He must not let the inferno consume him.
“THEY WILL COME.”
“Delegate!” a weakened commander called out. “A powerful signal is coming from the planetoid…beyond anything ever seen…it’s a beacon that’ll alert ships within hundreds… thousands of light years to their presence…”
“You are mad!” accused Kaltar. “You will bring in the B’qula! They will kill you!”
“OUR DEATHS ARE IRRELEVANT. THEY WILL PAY WITH YOU. YOU WILL ALL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO US.”
The planetoid was changing. Distortions traveled along its surface. Light, cold, grey light, traced the chasms. The whole planetoid seemed to be powering up, alive.
Kaltar realized there were not artifacts on the planetoid, the planetoid was the artifact, a hollowed out moon enslaved by the 079s. They could not destroy it. They were overwhelmed. There was no hope anymore.
Sannel was gasping for air, between sobs.
Please, Elders, Latal. Survival is too much to ask for. I should not have come here., he prayed. But, please… make it quick for her. Let her die, painlessly, mercifully. She must not pay any more for my mistake. Let it be painless.
“DIE,” repeated the 079s.

Sannel could feel the 079s. They were probing into her mind. They were reaching into her. And they reveled in her fear.
She felt her ship hold onto her. There was nothing left to do. They buried themselves in each other, trying to generate some final warmth in this darkest of places.
The 079s pushed, brushing aside her defenses, her shell. Sannel could feel their rage, their power, their sense of fulfillment.
NOW, they said.
No. Sannel was crying, tightly grasping her ship in her mind. No.
IT ENDS.
AND BEGINS.
NO! screamed the Voice. Infinite rage welled out of it, a deluge of power. The Voice was like a force of nature, toppling the giants, drowning them, burying them. The anger surpassed theirs, shattering their resolve, shocking them, hurting them, silencing them.
Silence. Merciful silence.
Sannel felt impatience from the Voice.
The ship was free.
Sannel pushed away ship, severing their link, urging it to take them away. The ship obeyed. The 079s were stirring. They spoke.

“The inhibitor field has collapsed!”
“Jump!,” ordered Kaltar.
They let out a final response, a final taunt.
“You do not know who she is!,” Sannel cried. “You do not know what she holds! She-”
-And the merciful blue flow of the jump carried them to safety.
Sannel was in a fetal position, her face buried in her hands. She softly whimpered and sobbed. She was still shaking.
Kaltar let her weep. She at least needed that much. But he knew that he could never do enough to heal her now.
He had let duty get in her way. He had been true to the race, but not to the individual. Just as he had with Latal. He had never said goodbye, and instead of atoning for it, he had led Sannel to this.
For minutes on end, she cried. It was painful, it was heartbreaking. Tears ran down her face. Sannel’s breathing was heavy. She wanted to speak. Kaltar watched her intently.
She opened her eyes, tilting her head ever so slightly, not at him. She spoke weakly. She sounded hurt, vulnerable. Bound.
“…All…all of my life…I’ve been afraid of being Lost…I…” She bowed here head down again. Sobs still jerked her.
You owe it to help her, Latal said. She wants you as a friend.
I will. She needs one. But she deserves better than me. I just wish…
“I will help you find your way,” Kaltar said.

dzurlord

7th Oct 01, 10:27 PM

Phew!:eek: :eek:

No-one died. This is getting bigger and bigger. I'm not even going to try and think about what happens next.:confused: ;)

Xellos

8th Oct 01, 8:04 PM

It's kind of amusing...

The Kt'tik'kar and Species 079 (I feel so Borgish! :D ) both ended up fighting a losing battle against the B'qula... and both fled in their own ways. But while the Tik feel no true animosity toward the newer inhabitants of their Galaxy (other than to feast on their flesh occasionally... yum!), Species 079 seems quite... mad. Insane, even.

It's an interesting glimpse at two of the Firstborn. Was it the loss of the other Arkships that drove the 079 insane? Or were they just hiding out, existing (in some ways like the White Beast) until Sannel and Kaltar stumbled upon them and reawakened the old hatreds?

In some ways... it's like those of the 079 are those who existed there when the B'qula first attacked this galaxy. Somehow still existing despite a million or more years having gone past. Having never learned the secrets of hyperspacial travel (though did they pick that knowledge out of Sannel's mind when they were mind-raping her?)... did they even bother continuing to expand on their technologies? Or did they only exist in their own minds?

And it is quite curious, how they seem to know about... well, I won't go there. As my namesake would say... "That is a secret" :D :D :D

Thusfar we've seen two of the Firstborn. And seen that ancient hatreds die slow. It makes you curious... just how many other ancient threats exist in the other galaxies that were "purged"... and who else might end up coming out against the Children of the Naggarok....

Perhaps, the B'qula are not the greatest threat to come. Sure, they have advanced technologies, great numbers, and a fervor that borders on the insane... but how much worse would it be to have a new enemy, one that used stealth and manipulation, to tear the union of this galaxy apart... poisoning worlds, making it seem like others were to blame... or worse, having found ways to expand their own strengths so that they *can* invade as the B'qula do... but with weapons so bizarre that none of the Children can find a way to stop them....

Then again, is that not what Species 079 are? If not for the Voice, would not this tale come to an abrupt and unexpected end?

Mr-e-Man

30th Oct 01, 9:06 PM

And even more BUMP

For the sake of quality bumping:

We've gone after Xellos...

We've gone after The Reflection himself...

What possible hostages are left?

I will take all of TR's readers!

TR, consider all of your readers my hostages!

I don't even think I need to state what ransom is...]

:D :) :cool: ;)

Ben Tusi

3rd Nov 01, 9:38 PM

TR, you are an amazingly strong authour. I admire every single word of your work, as you are a far supirour authour to what I aspire to be.

The Reflection

6th Nov 01, 9:43 PM

Phew! No-one died.
Not physically.

This is getting bigger and bigger. I'm not even going to try and think about what happens next.
Chapter 9 is something of another "rest" chapter, although "transition" is probably more accurate. Not with the extreme emotional intensity as chapter 8, but there's still an echo of that in 9, which will form an arc with 10 and 11.

The Kt'tik'kar and Species 079 (I feel so Borgish! ) both ended up fighting a losing battle against the B'qula... and both fled in their own ways. But while the Tik feel no true animosity toward the newer inhabitants of their Galaxy (other than to feast on their flesh occasionally... yum!), Species 079 seems quite... mad. Insane, even.
Yes, that was implied...

It's an interesting glimpse at two of the Firstborn. Was it the loss of the other Arkships that drove the 079 insane? Or were they just hiding out, existing (in some ways like the White Beast) until Sannel and Kaltar stumbled upon them and reawakened the old hatreds?
They have been plotting their revenge for about 1 million years now. It's not like they decided, "Oh, let's become a genocidal insane race and bring death on ourselves because the thousands-of-generations-removed-descendants of the Ancient Enemy showed up." Their revenge has become their only goal in their lives, their whole point of existence.

In some ways... it's like those of the 079 are those who existed there when the B'qula first attacked this galaxy. Somehow still existing despite a million or more years having gone past.
Yes, the 079s are quite long-lived... even before the B'qula, I imagine they were a noble, ancient people who naturally lived millenia, slowly gliding among the stars, contemplating great thoughts. But when the B'qula came...they lost that nobility.
But, yes, they have extended their lives very long. All of the 079s were born before or during the first few millenia after the Ark arrived at that system.

Having never learned the secrets of hyperspacial travel (though did they pick that knowledge out of Sannel's mind when they were mind-raping her?)... did they even bother continuing to expand on their technologies? Or did they only exist in their own minds?
They have developed enough technology in the intervening years to take on the B'qula. For example, using their little information on hyperdrive, they were able to develop the hyperspace inhibitor field they used that make B'qula hyperspace inhibitors look like toys. And they have developed gravitational weapons. But these were only meant to trap prey and to slowly kill it... they did not develop hyperdrive, even though they very well could have. Certainly they could have built a few more ships.
The 079s have been living in their own minds, yes.

And it is quite curious, how they seem to know about... well, I won't go there. As my namesake would say... "That is a secret"
Oh, are you referring to

You do not know who she is! You do not know what she holds! She-
Yes, funny that... :)

Thusfar we've seen two of the Firstborn. And seen that ancient hatreds die slow. It makes you curious... just how many other ancient threats exist in the other galaxies that were "purged"... and who else might end up coming out against the Children of the Naggarok....
Perhaps, the B'qula are not the greatest threat to come. Sure, they have advanced technologies, great numbers, and a fervor that borders on the insane... but how much worse would it be to have a new enemy, one that used stealth and manipulation, to tear the union of this galaxy apart... poisoning worlds, making it seem like others were to blame... or worse, having found ways to expand their own strengths so that they *can* invade as the B'qula do... but with weapons so bizarre that none of the Children can find a way to stop them....
Trying to guess the Second and Third Great Secrets, are we? ;)

Then again, is that not what Species 079 are? If not for the Voice, would not this tale come to an abrupt and unexpected end?
They would have had no hope. Good thing that Voice was around...

We've gone after The Reflection himself...
Then why haven't you extracted the information you wanted already? ;) And how can I write if you have me hostage?

What possible hostages are left?
I will take all of TR's readers!
TR, consider all of your readers my hostages!
By posting on this thread, you must have opened this thread, which counts as a "read" in the post count section. Therefore, you must be a reader.
Did you just take yourself hostage?
If you try to move to threaten me, must you attack yourself because you moved?
Does this mean that you have just immobilized yourself until I release another chapter? ;)

TR, you are an amazingly strong authour. I admire every single word of your work, as you are a far supirour authour to what I aspire to be.
Don't give up. I've come here through years of working on writing. If you read the first chapters of Outside...it is nowhere near as good as this. In the year since then, I've grown. Read, to get an idea of what is good and to inspire yourself, and write to sharpen the skill. Few are instant successes.
Although I must admit, with chapter 8, the words actually seemed to overpower me. I had to work out some of that energy by pacing around for a few minutes at times. The dialog, the emotion, just flowed out of me. It was rather disturbing...but I do feel that it has lent something to that chapter.

Chapter 9 is below. While, as I said, it does not have the extreme intensity of 8...it still has its moments. Nine is the longest chapter thus far. It will bridge chapter 8 with 10 and 11. Again, it is not exactly the lightest reading in the world.

Here it is.

The Reflection

6th Nov 01, 9:44 PM

9
Requiem for Innocence
”Sometimes I think about…before…and it seems so close, as if I can go back at anytime. It feels like one day, everything will be back to normal.”
“But it can never be the way it was, Tasiin.”
“No…no…Entropy works on everything. But why is it that I can never accept it?”
“You are not who you were. I am not who I was. Time changes all of us. There can be no turning back.”
“No.”

Tasiin and Datlai Limandatt’sa

“Delegate Kaltar. They have - the beacon in Globular Cluster 079 has stopped.”
“Thank you,” said Kaltar. “You know what that means. They wanted vengeance…and they got it…I’m beginning to wish the Enemy finished them off the first time.”
Not that Sannel was listening.
Kaltar could hardly recognize her.
Her eyes, usually full of intensity, were now sad and blank. Her mouth was formed permanently into a frown. Her hands no longer sat folded in her lap, but hung uselessly from limp arms. Her slackened face was drained of all purpose. She had barely said a word since coming back, and not out of spite or reluctance, but as if she had lost anything to say. When she did speak, her voice lacked its resonance.
And there was always the nagging thought that he had done this.
“Sannel,” he said. He wanted Sannel to answer, to look annoyed, to make a flippant comment, to look up, to be all right. Nothing. She was lost, numb. Perhaps her eyes flickered to him, but aside from that slightest indication of life, she was gone.
“Kaltar,” she whispered. Her slack face turned just a bit. “What now?”
It was a valid question. At the moment the Telana was escorting her ship on a course towards the Zaala homeworld, an arbitrary destination to flee to from the 079s. But, really, Kaltar did not have any idea where to go.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “And you?”
Sannel shook her head weakly.
“I shouldn’t have…we should not have gone there.”
She waited, motionless.
“…But how did you know?” Kaltar asked.
“A feeling.”
“What kind of feeling?”
She shrugged.
“And that wasn’t the first time,” he persisted. “Before we reached the Klaal 01-09-02 system, you warned us, asked us to change course, and then we…dreamed. You knew that the Tik would leave us alone at Tilnak 37. Even with K’Basal…I think you know somehow.”
“Maybe.” She stared blankly into space.
“Something happened, Sannel.”
“No.”
“Yes it did.”
She shook her head.
Kaltar was starting to get impatient. “I know there is still some part of you that cares.”
He immediately regretted saying it. Sannel had barely survived the 079s; her mind already wounded, twisted, and tormented by them. It was a miracle she still even had a mind, and yet Kaltar was angry with her for being withdrawn and unresponsive. He could never help her; he did not deserve to be near her.
And yet Sannel acted like he had not even heard him. Kaltar doubted that she was truly even listening.
“I am sorry. That was completely inappropriate,” Kaltar apologized.
She floated, unmoving. Kaltar did not think she had heard one word.
“I do not believe in legends,” Sannel suddenly said.
And yet one turned out to be true…
“Even now?” he asked, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible.
Sannel finally looked at him, and there finally was intensity again in her eyes. It was far weaker, far less confident than it once was, a pale reflection, a sad echo. But it was there.
“There was nothing magical, mystical, or supernatural about that place. Frightening…but…not…” Her words faded out, the intensity vanishing.
“But you have heard of what I described, haven’t you? The feeling that something will happen.”
“Maybe.” She was receding again from him.
“What do you know about it?” Kaltar was determined to keep her from withdrawing.
“It…it…”
“Go ahead.”
“The…‘Sight’. A very old legend from before the first return to Hiigara. It was said… ’Oracles’ would have ‘Visions’,” she said. “But they are all gone now.”
“Gone?”
“Left…They left Hiigara…and supposedly are still out there…not that it matters…”
“Who? I have not heard of these Oracles…not as you mean them.”
She sighed, a much quieter and sadder sound now.
Did they leave no part of her untouched?
“The…Kaaltow. They existed, millennia ago, but…the rest…”
“Meant something. If these Kaaltow still exist…somewhere…should we not seek them and try to find out what is going on?” Kaltar suggested.
“Why?”
“Are we doing anything else? All of the other assignments were back in Globular Cluster 079…with them. We are not going back there.”
“We should return to the Council,” Sannel said.
“And do what?” Kaltar asked. “Watch the B’qula draw nearer everyday? If there is a chance this Sight-“
“There is none.”
“…Sannel, you said yourself that you wanted me to help you. Are you going to let me?”
“I am trying to save you the effort. I do not care about myself.”
“We will look for them. If we do not find them in three days –“
“-One-“
“-Two, we will head back to the Council.”
Sannel nodded absently. “How will you explain this to your Elders?”
“They are pleased with our progress. If I feel that something is absolutely necessary, they probably will allow it. I will say that the Kaaltow may give us something of use in the war. I will say that we are still searching for artifacts, but not in that star cluster.”
“And if that does not work?”
“I will say that you requested it and I am doing it as a diplomatic favor.”
Sannel seemed a little overwhelmed. But she did not argue with his logic. Kaltar doubted that anyone would dare to question his authority given his arguments, and he knew that if he argued this was a favor for a Hiigaran, they would not risk appearing ungrateful and facing the wrath of the Council. “And how do we find them?”
Kaltar had not given that much thought. He had simply been trying to convince her to go along with the search. “I don’t know. What do you know of them that can help us find them?”
“They…occasionally stop for pilgrimages. They have several…Shrines, one an asteroidal colony. Some make stops at set places…like…Kharak.” The last name was a whisper.
“Any others?”
“A few.”
“Choose one, and we will go there.”
“Which one?”
“Any. Wherever your heart tells you. Bridge, follow Sannel’s – Delegate Sannel’s ship.”
She probably will just choose the nearest.
“Adjusting course,” a voice from the bridge stated.
“We are on our way… a few hours again of travel,” Kaltar said.
Sannel nodded.
I should just make her mind off of everything.
“Do you want to do anything while we are waiting?” asked Kaltar. “Talk about something? Play a game? Anything you wish.”
Sannel looked at him, at his friendly, smiling face, her eyes wide. And right before Kaltar, she started crying again.
She really is fragile, Kaltar thought.
“I should not be doing this, not in front of you,” she said, her voice muffled.
“I want you to be honest with me. Let it come out. Don’t try to hide it.”
“But I have been hiding before…this. “
“No,” answered Kaltar. “You may think so, but that image of yours displays your emotions. I can tell what you are thinking. Often it seems as real as if you are in the room with me.”
“Really?” she asked, filled with wonder. Besides sadness, it was the first real emotion she had displayed since coming back. There was still something left in her, something that he could reach out to.
“Yes.”
She studied him, and after a few seconds, she finally turned away. “I am sorry. You should not have to go through this…”
“No. Don’t apologize. Just do, say what you must. I have been through…a lot in my life. You cannot say or do anything to me that could really hurt.”
She bowed her head and held herself. “Kaltar…”
“Yes.”
Sannel closed her eyes. “…Good night.” And she went to sleep.
Or so it appeared. Perhaps, in her Unbound state, she was not in the slightest sleeping. Perhaps she merely wanted to remain passive. To maintain the connection and her image, he guessed, she must still be slightly aware.
But still, Kaltar felt as if she was resting. She was unnaturally still. Her face was more placid. Only the floating, still somewhat sitting position she was in was unusual.
“Good night,” Kaltar replied.

Kaltar could not sleep. He had tossed and turned, got up. He had delved into Zaala databanks, searching for information on the Kaaltow, finding little beyond what Sannel had said. He had gone back into the room, finding Sannel asleep, or at least, feigning sleep. And he had returned and, at last, searched, groping under a white blanket apparently misplaced by the crew, finding that sacred golden vial.
“Help us,” he whispered. “I am not sure how well Sannel can fare on her own. And if I cannot help her, if you cannot…then we are all beyond hope.”
He imagined a galaxy burning, worlds burned or destroyed outright, supernovae blazing, wreckage the only sign that life had once lived there. And then another, fresher vision, that of a galaxy of empty shells – both B’qula and their descendants – tormented, mentally and spiritually reduced to nonexistence, and finally a slow, painful death. The Galaxy was sliding to death at the hands of the B’’qula…for all he knew it could very well have been a Galaxy slain by the 079s, if they had their way.
“No. It can’t happen. It won’t. We will win. And we will find the Kaaltow.”
If he was expecting an answer, there was none.
“Why is it that sometimes you are right next to me and others you are gone?” He could feel his face start to warm, his fist clenching onto the blanket. He had to stop this. He put back the vial, set the extra blanket on top of it, covering it up.
He climbed back into bed.

Red-orange light dimly illuminated the icy mountains. Kaltar knew this place was wrong. The constellations matched those of home, huge Jekalte apparently had set. The land reminded him of the frozen tundra near the poles, where Latal had been born, yet the air was warm, like at his birthplace.
Kaltar made his way under the mountain passes, on a frozen riverbed. The red-orange light followed him, guiding his path. Clouds were drifting overhead, a cool gust of wind buffeting him.
Onwards, he went.
The light was brightening, becoming more yellow, golden. The star-filled sky was becoming cloudier. He had reached the mouth of the river, a frozen lake. The mountains ringed the place, the only way out the way he had come. He knelt down, brushing away snow, golden light reflecting off the underlying ice, which was incredibly smooth, almost glass like.
Elders.
Sannel was under, in it. Her eyes were closed, her posture as if she was sitting, her face resigned. It appeared as if she had jumped into the lake, gave up on trying to come to the surface, and was frozen in.
“Sannel,” he said.
Kaltar, she said. Kaltar could feel her attention focus on him. He looked at himself. Golden slight emanating from around him, shifting and twisting like a fire. But he felt nothing.
“Sannel, we must help you.”
No.
“You are dying!
It is you who is dying, Sannel said.
“You are.”
You.
Her paled face was now brightened with yellow illumination. The magical golden glow surrounded him, flickering, snaking up him. He was surrounded by fire. And he still did not care.
“Come out of this.”
No. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be lost. The phrase was peculiar, yet natural.
“Wake up, Sannel!”
Sannel sighed. Go away.
Golden-white light now filled his view.
“Kaltar.”
“Latal.” Kaltar turned around, finding her standing before him, bathed in light. “Help her.”
“She is right…you are also in need.”
“I’m doing this for you.”
“What monument is an inferno?” Latal asked.
“I do not understand.”
“No, sadly…Oh, Kaltar, why is it that no one understands until it is too late?”
Kaltar looked at her, uncomprehending.
“Find your way and hers…you have seen your paths before. Walk them…before you are what you are and it becomes too late,” she replied. A pause, then, “Goodbye, Kaltar.”
A white flash of light radiated outwards, blinding him momentarily. Latal vanished, ascending.
“Sannel.”
She receded from him, into the abysmal depths of the frozen water. Kaltar saw an unnatural calm on her face, and thought he even saw the slightest of smiles.
“No!” Lightning rained out of the sky, like bolts of fire, hard light flashing across the terrain. Black, ominous clouds swept over the mountains. The golden fire flared out, consuming the riverbed, mountains, the sky, the whole Universe. “Never again, Elders! The inferno raged out of him, out of control. And around him the Universe burned.

Sannel let the song of hyperspace flow around her, her ship complementing it with its own. Once, she would have protested, held herself above them. But she was too weak and tired to resist. She wanted to sleep, and in all her years, she had found this was the closest she could get. Her mind drifted, entranced by the lullaby.
She could barely feel anything anyway. Hyperspace caressed her Unbound body, oceanic waves sweeping over her. The connection with the Telana stirred in here, barely in her conscious attention. While the ship could maintain the link without her, Sannel needed that one last anchor, holding onto it.
There is no escape.
Go away, Sannel said.
You will pay.
Go away! A headache throbbed in her Bound body. She could feel her body pressed down, paralyzed.
Sleep, she thought, yearning. Her mind was drifting, her Unbound senses numb, hyperspace caressing her. She spoke to the ship, forgetting her own words as soon as she spoke them. The heading changed, to another convening site for the long-gone Kaaltow, another random spot in the Galaxy which the Telana seemed to follow as if it was important.
We will have our vengeance.
A chill ran up Sannel. They were in her mind. Her connection with her ship was going blank. Her Bound body was pressed, chained in place. No…Leave me alone.
You will die, the 079s said.
You cannot reach us, Sannel protested.
There was a pause. They were not blindly repeating the same phrases over and over. They were answering her.
You can run, hide in the furthest reaches of the Universe, they began. No escape. There is always one person who can reach you.
Fearfully, she asked, Who?
You.
No.
You have thought about it before. In the subconscious. Hidden from yourself, the 079s continued.
No.
No escape. You will die.
I won’t –
Yes, you will. Not now, but with time.
You are dead.
We are haunting. Like the star cluster. You.
Impossible, Sannel said.
You know Kaltar is haunted. Talking with Latal. Thinking about her constantly, the 079s said. We haunt you. You escaped. They came, killing us. You killed us.
You brought this on yourself. She cried, choking.
You have our blood on your hands.
Get out of my mind! she screamed. Rage was building up in her, wielding itself.
They went on. You cannot force us. You have no rage. Unlike Kaltar. You are incapable of accepting it. On a cold, intellectual level only. Abstractly. But you do not have the strength to kill. Except one.
Sannel tried to shake, to break free of them.
You are weak. You hold onto precious beliefs and claim you have none. You want to believe. Unlike Kaltar. You do not know what you want. Only one thing in the Universe is as low as you.
You.
No way out. Except one. No way to escape yourself. Except one. No way to avoid being Lost. Except one.
Never, Sannel whispered. I will never do it.
Not now. But soon.
Never.
One fate.
Never.
Inevitable.
“Tasiin!” she cried out. “Help me!” You are the only one who can push them away, the only one I can trust, the only one I can turn to.
The reply came from all around her, resigned.
I don’t want it!
“But – I – “
The only thing you believe in has rejected you. Why do you persist?
“Tasiin! Do something, anything…free me…”
You will die. No escape. Die. You. Die.
“Please…” She shook with intensity, desperate. Sobs overpowered her. Her mind shut everything out.
Calm, the Voice said. The presence wrapped around her, severing the chains. Sannel slumped forward, free, exhausted. She huddled, cold, head buried. Calm.
Who are you?
The only reply was that familiar, vast amusement. Sannel did not bother to ask again.
“Why weren’t you here…Why…”
“It is not my responsibility,” Tasiin replied. “I went Outside and it fell…is that enough?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure…if I should believe in you…”
“Don’t. I really do not want worship. It will be easier for both of us.”
“…But then there’s nothing left…at all. No meaning.”
“There is always something,” Daltai replied.
“No, there isn’t,” Sannel argued.
“Sannel,” began.
“There is nothing that I can trust. All of you reject me, or manipulate me. The 079s…they…”
Datlai embraced her, and she did not resist. Sannel trembled, tears flowing freely, trying to be surrounded by warmth.
“Don’t worry…”
“Why?”
“I think Tasiin does care…at least more than he wishes to admit.”
“They said that I would…”
“They are gone,” Datlai reassured.
“But…they-“
Datlai hushed her. And for once, Sannel did not protest. She closed her eyes, let her muscles relax. The Voice stirred, kaleidoscoping around her.
She was safe, cared for. Sannel could open up. She could let go forever. Sannel let herself surrender to this bliss, oceanic drifting…
A cold wave of reality slammed into her. Sannel awoke, shocked, hurt. The song of hyperspace still surrounded her. She had nearly become Lost. What had she been thinking? She held herself aloof, to weak to directly block it out.
You, she said.
You were becoming Lost, the Guardian stated. We interrupted the Dream. This one was not the one Sannel had encountered before, though she could feel that ones’ presence nearby. She got the impression she was talking to someone younger. Sannel was unsure whether she should resent them for manipulating her or thank them for saving her from herself.
You are welcome, added the Guardian. She thought she felt humor.
I thought you were not friends, she said.
We are not. But we are not monsters…unlike the B’qula…and them.
We near our destination, the other, more familiar, older Guardian said.
”Our”? Sannel asked.
We have signaled the Kaaltow.
Sannel was startled. They exist?
Yes, the older Guardian said.
She was silent
The other two ships, which seemed to have made themselves visible for her, were decelerating. Sannel slowed her own ship, the Telana acting likewise.
We have arrived, her ship said.
But it has only been…
One and a half days, the younger Guardian replied. You were…sleeping…much of that time.
I – no, that could not be – I…I was Lost? Despair awoke in Sannel. It could not have been. She tried to shut it all out again, but found herself too tired.
No way out. Except one. No way to escape yourself. Except one. No way to avoid being Lost.
Go…get out…
Except one.
Get out.
They are gone.
They will never be gone, Sannel said. Never will I…forever… She found that she could not go on. She wanted to disappear at that moment.
And yet ripples of calm stroked her. Her mind stilled, body weighted down, but not in a threatening way. She still had some control over herself. Is that you? she asked.
The Dream ship is working on a low level…soothing, but not analyzing.
Sannel felt her mind drift, but not focusing on hyperspace. If anything, the song seemed quieter. Thank you…But who are you? Do you have a name…
Across the stillness came an answer.
Junan.

When Kaltar entered the converted gathering room of the Telana, Sannel was still sleeping.
“Sannel,” he called. It was of no use.
“Bridge, I have noticed we have returned to normal space,” Kaltar began.
“We have.”
“What is here?”
“We are around a white main sequence star with five planets. The second is in the habitable zone and appears to have life. Sensors suggest artifacts on the surface…but they have long since been abandoned.”
“Any ships?”
“Sensors have been reading two anomalies trailing us since we left Globular Cluster 079. It is almost as if they are cloaked – they were very faint. Readings match those of the ships we encountered at Klaal 01-09-02. Do you believe they are the Kaaltow?”
Guardians, Sannel had called them. While elusive, he doubted they were the Kaaltow – if they had the Sight, why hadn’t they warned them of what was waiting in Globular Cluster 079? Besides, the Klaal 01-09-02 ships were small, corvette-sized, while Kaaltow ships, from early Zaala records, were large all the way up to an asteroidal ship. Very likely, they were responsible for their escape from the 079s, but they were not related to the Kaaltow.
“No, they are…unrelated. “
“Delegate Kaltar…we have been searching for a day and a half,” the commander said. “Our people have had no contact with these Kaaltow for millennia. Perhaps it is time that we return to the Council.”
He deliberated it for a moment. But his gaze kept drifting over to Sannel. He owed her; this could only begin to make up for the 079s.
“Not yet – just a few more hours,” he replied. “We will stop here momentarily, to figure out another plan.”
“As you request, Delegate.”
Kaltar began to consider the possibility that they would not find the Kaaltow, that Sannel was right and they had long since disappeared, or had no mystical Sight. What could he do for her then? He could not bear to bring her to the Council broken and dejected.
He must not think that far ahead. “How is the war doing?”
A holographic galaxy appeared automatically before him. One-third of the Galaxy conquered. Skirmishes on the edge of Zaala space. Madness, thought Kaltar. He wondered how many of the millions, billions never did say goodbye, how many had loved ones taken without reason, how many never had a chance to protest aside from a tear before their fate.
“Enough.”
The Galaxy vanished. He changed his course of thought. The planet – it had artifacts. He was reminded of the old mission, the treasure hunt. Scanning the surface could yield a new weapon.
“Sannel…if you are able to, if you want to,” he suggested. “Scan the planet. There might be something there.”
She apparently whispered something.
“We are receiving information from Delegate Sannel’s ship,” the commander reported.
“Download it. There can be something of value.”
Sannel shook her head.
“Awake now?” Kaltar asked, slightly amused.
“Trying to sleep,” she muttered.
“I know the feeling.” Kaltar thought he saw the slightest of smiles creep on her face. “I am glad to see that you are feeling a little better.”
“A little.”
There was silence.
“Commander, just out of curiosity, before we go any further…where is this place, in relation to the rest of the Galaxy?”
“We are 14,500 light years from the Galactic Core, about 70 light years above the galactic plane. We are in neutral territory, but only 119 light years from the nearest Zaala system. We are about 11,000 light years from Hiigara and the Central Worlds –“
“Stop. Eleven thousand?” he repeated. It sounded familiar.
“Yes.”
…You have seen your paths before. Walk them…
He remembered where he had heard that number before – when Sannel had first met him, she had went that distance in her trip after seeing the destruction of K’Basal.
“Sannel…” he began. “After we first met…you said you went 11,000 light years from Hiigara. Where, in relation to this system, was that?”
The smile broadened just enough for Kaltar to be sure it was real. “Thirty-four light years.”
“And why didn’t you tell me before?”
The smile faded. “I did not think of it.”
“Ah. Relay that place’s coordinates to the Telana. Commander, set course. Jump to hyperspace when ready.”

Sannel’s ship returned to normal space, the Telana following, the Guardians slipping out with her in the distance.
This was the red dwarf system, as it had been before. Sannel remembered her ship singing to her, the Dream-
She could feel the slightest amount of apprehension from the Guardians, from Junan.
It was your Dream alone, Junan stated.
There was obviously something here – an asteroid ship k’loms long, escorted by several U-shaped ships, reminiscent of the Bentusi Tradeships. The asteroid’s surface was covered in green vegetation and blue lakes; it even had a thick atmosphere with no clouds. Obviously, it was an artistic expression.
“We have arrived,” she said to Kaltar.
Yes, added Junan. We have.
It was beautiful, even inviting, this miniature world. Mountains and valleys graved parts of the surface – not the grey, disjointed chasms and craggy, spindly spires of the 079 planetoid, but softly curving, living hills and valleys.
We have been waiting for you.
It came from the asteroid.
Are you the Kaaltow?
Sannel heard laughter. Part of her cried upon hearing this – Is it my fault for not expecting it to be true?
Calm, young Sannel. You are disturbed. But we…may provide some answers.
Answers, she repeated. Sannel did like the way it sounded.
Enter, if you wish, the Kaaltow continued. Be forewarned, not all answers may be what you wish. You will have to undertake a journey. And you must be willing to hear them. So, we ask you – do not answer out of duty or obligation or analysis, but from your heart. Do you wish to enter?
Sannel quailed before the thought. She did not want to open herself before these strangers. She wasn’t sure she could open herself, even if she wanted to, and she did not believe in the heart they talked about. She wasn’t sure she trusted them. And Sannel doubted that she would believe their answers.
But part of her wanted to find the answers. If there was something here she could…hold to, accept, then it might be worth the effort.
And it was only fair to Kaltar.
How will you know-
We trust you.
Then…I am willing. But…the Zaala ship…can they…can Kaltar come…at some point? Sannel asked.
A Bound one? A pause, and then, There is hope for you yet.
Come.
A brilliant shaft of white light radiated from the asteroid, illuminating Sannel’s ship. The ship cried with joy as it dove into the light.

blackjack

6th Nov 01, 10:38 PM

TR, you amaze me more and more with each passing story.

Publish. Please. Write something in an original universe and publish it. Because I will be buying no less than three copies.

dzurlord

6th Nov 01, 11:35 PM

Yes!:D Just before I was going to bump it too hehehe.

MissingSea

7th Nov 01, 6:08 AM

Your writing style is quite excellent TR. I await the next chapter no matter how long it takes for you to write.

The Reflection

9th Nov 01, 9:13 PM

TR, you amaze me more and more with each passing story.
Publish. Please. Write something in an original universe and publish it. Because I will be buying no less than three copies.
The plan right now is to finish NC (preferrably by the end of the year, but realistically by March or so) first. I have this plan for an original universe in my mind starting form, and I feel this universe has a lot of potential to expand...which is good since I tend to want to project things over millenia, millions, billions of years... even further. It was inspired by a few discussions here on the Relic Boards ("Colonization of new worlds"; "First contact"; "What would be needed for organic spacefaring"). The "inaugaration" story will be "5145 Pholus" (for this reason I tend to call the universe the Pholus sequence, or perhaps, the Kuiper sequence), and the plot and characters are starting to coalesce. And since I have several ideas for more stories, as soon as I finish that, I can send it out to magazines, start on another...
But that will be a few months from now. I'd rather not start it now, mainly to develop the universe further, and because I fear that once I get really moving on it, I will abandon NC and it will wither away. That's the last thing I'd want to do after spending all of this time and emotional intensity on it.
On the other hand, I figure that if I do get published, and if Outside and Naggarok's Children still can stand as Homeworld stories, I can swing around and get them published more easily, given the experience I would have gained.
But that would probably be a year, two, three down the line, and I might not follow through with it. But, I figure I would leave open that door, if I ever choose to step through it.

Your writing style is quite excellent TR. I await the next chapter no matter how long it takes for you to write.
Perhaps not as long as you think...perhaps even by the end of the weekend, since I do feel this could be a pretty powerful chapter (not quite to the extent of "Globular Cluster 079"), but perhaps enough to let me write it quickly...and if I push it, I could probably get 11 done by the end of the weekend, as it is powerful too. And perhaps the momentum could carry me into 12, and 13, and after that I'll start the arc that will lead all the way to the end. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

In any case, while you are waiting, I will present to you a somewhat older short story "Prelude to the Song of Sannel", which I actually wrote back right after chapter 3 as an English assignment back in May. It involves the events leading up to Sannel's first trip to hyperspace. I held off with posting it since it spoiled several things - mainly the Guardians and the Kaaltow... although I have made a few passing refferences to the events in it in chapter 6. I kind of feel bad posting it now since chapter 10 will be a Sannel chapter (although 11 will be a Kaltar chapter) and this story is a Sannel story (just by the title that should be obvious). However, I do think that Kaltar is coming across more strongly where he would have been in the background (chapter 8, most prominently) in some places, so I will not worry about it too much.
(Before I go on, I just want to mention that the Kaaltow are not in fact my invention, but Robert's (Xellos'). We have been talking a lot about them, so I could get a feel for them and how they think. It's...well, it's a long story, but I have apparently managed to get way ahead of him. When one of his other stories is finished, we will see how the Kaaltow began... Rob, if you wish to jump in at some point and add to that, do so.)
And for your reading pleasure and contemplation, Prelude:

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prelude to the Song of Sannel
(c. 12440 AHL)

Brian Lacki
(The Reflection)

Lost?
Sannel’s eyes flew wide open with terror, her mouth left hanging. Even that could not sufficiently express her feelings in her new Unbound form, linked to her father’s ship so it was part of her. But it was only a year ago she had not yet been linked, and Sannel was still not adjusted to Unbound existence.
Sannel could feel the warm, close presence of her father’s mind, also sensing her mother, who seemed more distant.
That is what we call them, Sannel, her father replied. You may have heard us talk about hyperspace ‘singing’.
Sannel quietly replied, Yes.
It does sings. No one knows why. But all of the Unbound – you, me, the Bentusi you want to talk to, even Tasiin himself before he left – can hear it, and we do hear it. It actually can be quite…beautiful. But sometimes we must be careful, or we can become Lost.
That word again, Lost. Sannel shivered, despite the presence of her parents and the physical warmth of Hiigaran sunlight on her father’s ship, her body.
Sometimes the song…touches us. We like to listen to it. And sometimes we want to listen to it forever. We do not wish to return to the others. And then we are Lost.
Sannel was unnaturally still, both her Bound body and the usual meandering of her thoughts. What happens to the Lost?
We do not know, Sannel, replied her father. We think they drift in hyperspace…forever.
Forever? Sannel repeated, dazed. It all began to sink in on her. She could feel her Bound body sag, as if an enormous weight had been placed on it.
Her father continued to explain, but Sannel only gave him part of her attention. She gazed, trembling, out into the stars of the galactic core. Sannel wondered if hyperspace was looking back.

Three hundred years at most, stated Glaan.
Will that become our new call to meeting? Nilsa asked with a sigh, linking her minds with the others.
What happens in three hundred years? A new little disaster we will have to deal with? Added another, Selta.
All could feel Glaan’s cold reaction. The ancestors return.
You surely do not mean – Nilsa demanded.
The Naggarok launchers, the genociders who we are all descended from, the ones Tasiin himself warned about. Projections on their progress towards us, near the center of their shell of an empire, show that we have no more than three hundred years before they arrive. Probably much less.
Our fleets have built up much in the last twelve thousand years, a fourth, Tolkan said.
We all know that the Hiigaran fleet could win against three Unbound and three dozen Bound races and still have enough ships left for a parade lap around the Galactic Core, Glaan replied, a few throwing in their approval. But a million years ago the Enemy was slaughtering whole galaxies, setting off supernovae, even sending the Naggarok Outside.
But we – Tasiin – managed to defeat Outside…while they were…unsuccessful, Nilsa protested. The Enemy is the whole reason we have been watching over the Line of Tasiin, as well as the reason there is the Kaaltow Oracle gene in all of the Line.
Exactly, Glaan said. Which means either the current one, Dakel –
-Who is impractical, pointed out Selta. We never should have let him marry a Kadeshi.
-Or, continued Glaan, quieting Selta, the child, Sannel –
-Who shows signs of the impracticalness of her father and the stubbornness of her mother – interrupted Selta.
Glaan’s annoyance spilled out onto the others. …Will face the Enemy.
Selta, we are Limandatt, philosophers, poets, artists, or at least descended from them. We should not be concerned with ‘impracticalness,’ Nilsa argued.
The others were impatient with the disagreement.
Focus on the task, Glaan ordered. The link was broken; the meeting was over.
Nilsa reached out among the stars, carried by hyperspace signals, feeling the presence of Dakel, and then Sannel.
Poor child, she said.

Sannel, her mother called out.
Hello, Sannel replied shyly.
You have been quiet lately.
Sannel tried to comfort herself in her mother’s presence. But that in itself couldn’t hold in her anxiousness.
I don’t want to be Lost.
You will not be Lost, her mother reassured.
But I thought that anyone…any of the Unbound… could become Lost, Sannel pointed out.
Maybe, but I do not think you will be Lost, Sannel.
You really think that? Sannel asked, filled with wonder. Why?
Because…our ships can call us back. And we have each other. We know how to bring back someone who is Lost before they stray too far.
Sannel was quiet for a moment, trying to fit it all together. I don’t want to go to hyperspace, she protested.
Sannel-
I don’t want to, Sannel repeated, more forcefully.
Even Tasiin the Defeater of Outside, if the legends are true-
-They are true, Sannel said, annoyed with her mother’s skepticism. They aren’t legends.
-Even he had to hear hyperspace, and he was never Lost.
Sannel contemplated what her mother had said. I don’t want to go.
But you won’t be Lost, her mother replied.
You are just saying that! she accused. You don’t know that! You…
Sannel could hear her mother call out, Dakel. The name was an echo to Sannel, something which she had to eavesdrop on, peek around a corner to see. Her mother and father conversed, deliberately hiding their thoughts now from Sannel, so she could not hear, like whispers that were too distant to discern any words.
At last her mother retreated, her father approaching Sannel. What is wrong, Sannel?
Ever since…you told me about the Lost, I-I…don’t want to be Lost. Maybe if I don’t go to hyperspace, then it can’t get me.
Sannel, hyperspace can’t ‘get’ you.
Outside could, Sannel protested.
And Outside is gone, her father replied. Sannel you know that you told me about how you want to be part of the Galactic Council, or maybe on a ship traveling to another galaxy. But either of those paths require you to enter hyperspace at some point.
But- Sannel felt empty, as if her whole life, her whole view of the universe, just shattered. She sank, trying not to pay attention to anything.
Sannel, I have been in hyperspace many times and I am not Lost.
Sannel tried to sleep like she did when she was Bound. She closed her eyes, keeping still. But sleep would not come. She was Unbound – part of her father’s ship, her father’s ship was part of her. She could still see the stars with her eyes closed, hear the others, feel the solar wind on her skin.
Sannel – her father called.
For hours, she feigned sleep.

Glaan was gravely disappointed, at the least.
For twenty-two days now, the child-
-Sannel, Nilsa said.
-Has been terrified of being Lost. No matter what her parents try to say to her, she refuses to enter hyperspace. Glaan’s thoughts were restless. How can we expect a child of Tasiin himself to… How could she ever hope to survive against the Enemy?
Perhaps we have put too much faith in her, Selta replied resentfully. Maybe-
Selta! Nilsa snapped. The others were shocked and impatient, expecting an explanation. She provided none.
We will wait and see, Glaan stated.

Sannel could hear voices, just beyond her. For a while, she gave no acknowledgement, paying attention only to the solar wind on her father’s sleek ship, likening it to wind caressing her face.
…But we must take into hyperspace soon, Dakel…
…Still I cannot bear to force her like that….She seems so scared…
…We are all afraid of being Lost…
…I haven’t known of anyone being this afraid…
Sannel’s mind drifted.
…Sannel is awake…
She stirred.
Sannel, her father said.
What? Sannel finally acknowledged.
Sannel…your mother and I have been talking…
Sannel listened intently, desperate for hope.
We think…we think that sooner or later…you will have to enter hyperspace.
Once again, her hopes faded. She tried to turn away, but his voice permeated the space around her.
Sannel, we all are afraid of being Lost.
For once, Sannel let herself listen. What her father just said seemed to be honest. Although she still pretended she couldn’t hear him, Sannel paid close attention.
And we know that you do not want to be Lost.
Sannel waited.
But there is no way around it, besides having our ships call us back when it does happen. All of the Unbound hear hyperspace. So we must accept the…idea of becoming Lost.
Sannel was distraught. No, I don’t want to be Lost –
Sannel.
…You said…you said the Unbound must listen to it…what about the Bound? Can I…Sannel was unsure of what she was asking.
Sannel…
Suddenly, she shouted, I don’t want to be Unbound!
Sannel!
Sannel tried to disconnect herself from the ship. It was not much of a physical process – the connection did not require any direct contact except for a thin, removable link to provide nourishment. But she did push away the thoughts and senses her father’s ship shared with her. She forced open her eyes, trying to climb out of the chair that her Bound body rested in. It took several tries – she was shaking, unused to exerting herself – but managed to carefully lower herself out.
On wobbly legs, she took a few steps forward. The room was small, but the change of perspective still was great to Sannel. It was strange to her…the seat she had climbed out of looked like a…cradle.
Sannel sat down, sliding up against a wall opposite to the Cradle. The floor was painfully hard, the room was grey, dark, cold. Her light silver robe hung from her, almost like a blanket draped carelessly over her. A single door led to the room where her father must be…but this would allow her to hide for now. The low gravity of the Hiigaran ship was just enough to give herself a sense of direction, but still disoriented her, as if she was always just about to tumble over. A headache throbbed with pain.
Sannel shivered against the cold. She buried her face in her hands.
“I don’t want to be Lost,” she cried out, her voice muffled. She felt her eyes burn, then flood with tears. Only after sobs jerked her body did she realize she was crying.

This is getting out of hand, Glaan said. The child has disconnected herself from the ship…she’s binding herself!
As I said, Selta admonished the others. Unless Nilsa wishes to correct me.
Nilsa seethed, but said nothing.
I have contacted the Kaaltow about this. After all, she is descended from them as well; it is their Oracle gene, the Sight, that we have been protecting.
You have? asked Selta, incredulous. Did they reply?
What did they say? Nilsa finally replied.
They said, Glaan stated with resentment, ‘We are too bound up in being Unbound.’

Sannel did not know how long she had been like this. Perhaps hours, perhaps weeks. Every joint in her body ached, her eyes were bleary, tears flowed freely from them. And yet she looked wide-eyed at the apparition before her.
“Sannel.”
“You are not my father,” Sannel accused. “You are a…” she struggled with the word, pronouncing each syllable carefully, “…a hol-o-gram.”
“Sannel…Sannel.”
But Sannel would not listen. She turned aside, into the wall.
Even so, the hologram reached down, trying to encircle her in his – its – arms. It was a futile display – the hologram could not move anything. Yet Sannel responded as if it was the real thing, twisting and sliding out of the arms.
“Go away,” she said. When Sannel turned back to the Cradle, no one else was there.
“I don’t want to be Lost,” she whispered.
Again, she was alone. She sat in the silence and in the dark, closing her eyes. Again, the tears.
She waited.
Sannel thought she could hear…a song. Music. It was sad, haunting; she could feel…a connection, a warmth. Sannel could not distinguish the words, although she tried. She found herself humming along, trying to be heard by the other. She was lonely, but not empty. Time flowed around her, not touching her. The tenseness of her Bound body ebbed.
Eventually, she lost the song, as it faded back into the silence. And yet, everything was different. Her eyes opened, looking around.
I will not be Lost, she thought. The idea seemed alien, yet correct in some deep way. She didn’t know why, but she knew everything would be well, for a while at least.
Sannel once again paid attention to the ship’s senses – starlight on her face, solar wind on her body. She tried to get up, finding her muscles refused to cooperate.
“Father!” she called out. Father.
Sannel?
Sannel smiled.
When her father did pick her up, obviously struggling in his Bound form, she put her around him and held tightly until he gently lowered her into the Cradle.

What happened? demanded Tolkan.
If I knew, I would tell you, Glaan answered.
Selta seemed merely stunned, perhaps disgusted.
I believe it is obvious, Nilsa said.
All of the others waited.
She saw what was coming. She had a Vision, just like the Kaaltow have. She knew she would not be Lost.
Impossible, Selta replied. If she was willing to…bind herself to escape being Lost, then it would require an extraordinarily powerful Vision to convince her that everything would be well.
I know, Nilsa said.
Surely you do not mean…
I do.
Selta could find no words to say.
Should we be worried? Asked Glaan.
Given my observations, I do not believe so, Nilsa answered.
We will watch over her, Glaan stated. The link between the Guardians of the Line of Tasiin was broken. Nilsa glided between the stars, seeking Sannel, finding her, watching the blue glow of hyperspace envelop her. She smiled.
I do not think we should be worried at all.

Hyperspace sang to Sannel.
The song was haunting, but pleasant. She was a bit disappointed to find the song was not the one she had heard, alone, in the room as she stared at the cradle, but Sannel still rather enjoyed the experience. Hyperspace swirled around her, the song touched her.
There is nothing to fear, her father said.
I know, Sannel replied. I know.

cenpjas

14th Nov 01, 10:37 AM

Wheres the rest of it? Hu??

come on, I've just read it all again, and now I need more!!! - lots and lots more :)

-cen

dzurlord

14th Nov 01, 11:54 PM

This isn't fair. I remember reading Outside in one night. Now I'm being tortured having to wait for a chapter every few weeks:(. I like the interlude though:D

Xellos

15th Nov 01, 12:38 AM

I'm afraid I've been rather ill this past week, and in the four months since I lost my job, just not had any real... initiative or urge to write. Rather sad, since it would have been the perfect time to finish up that novel I have half-written (no, it's not a Homeworld novel, calm down. Though it's still interesting...). Which is why I've not gotten far along with the Cataclysm story as I wish I had.

The Kaaltow are... my creation. You can think of it as a merging of two kiith... though it's much more than that. I hint strongly of it in the next (half-written) chapter of the Cataclysm Fleet Intel Logs. And of course, by mentioning that Kaaltow is related to the Fleet Intel logs... I've already given away the game. :) No doubt we'll have a few :eek: as well as maybe a :confused: or two after this. ;)

I won't spoil it for you and reveal everything now except to say that I truly believe you will enjoy the next chapter when Brian publishes it. And now I must get to bed and then start writing the rest of that chapter... and probably rewrite the conclusion of the Cataclysm Logs, as I don't like the current conclusion (yes, I've already written a rough draft of the end, seeing that I knew Brian would get to this point before me).

And enjoy. :) I love watching a master of his craft at work. :D

cenpjas

15th Nov 01, 10:18 AM

MORE!!!!

Edric O

16th Nov 01, 2:01 PM

Ah... my favourite kind of race. The kind that barely survived a holocaust, and now wants its long-awaited revenge!!

Die, B’qula!
Die
Die
DIE

Well, I feel a lot better now that I got that out of my system. ;) As you probably guessed, I just read chapters 7, 8, and 9 (I had some catching up to do!) for the first time. And I'm officially a 079 supporter! I will give a cheer for each 079 victory. :)

Other than that, your work is brilliant as usual, Reflection. :D It just gets better and better!

Can I try to design a cover for the NC book? I'll follow your ideas for it (galaxy with red edges, surrounded by red light).
Of course, Outside needs to be published before we can start thinking about you publishing NC. Any luck with Relic yet? They're missing on a very juicy 10% of several million $, you know... ;)

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to read the Prelude to the Song of Sannel :D

The Reflection

16th Nov 01, 9:05 PM

This isn't fair. I remember reading Outside in one night. Now I'm being tortured having to wait for a chapter every few weeks
It's only been 10 days. ;)

Ah... my favourite kind of race. The kind that barely survived a holocaust, and now wants its long-awaited revenge!!
...And wants to start a holocaust of their own...

Die, B’qula!
Die
Die
DIE
Well, I feel a lot better now that I got that out of my system. As you probably guessed, I just read chapters 7, 8, and 9 (I had some catching up to do!) for the first time. And I'm officially a 079 supporter! I will give a cheer for each 079 victory.
First of all, they are dead (really! I'm not feigning here! ;) ). The B'qula, guided by their beacon, tracked them down and finished them off. Not without sustaining massive casualties (dozens of captial ships), but they destroyed the planetoid and scoured the cluster for any other sign of them.
Second of all... not only do the 079s want to kill off the B'qula, they want to kill everyone descended from them too. Basically, imagine every race, every individual you have met before chapter 8 (maybe not the Tik), and then imagine the 079s slaughtering them.
And...the 079s are sadists to the extreme. It's not simply a matter of killing, like the B'qula. Even with Outside, Outside was defending itself from what it percieved as attacks, and the methods it employed (ex. Beast) were efficient methods of disposing of those threats. But the 079s...they love to torture their victims... death takes several minutes, as they slowly dissect the minds until all that's left is the frightened core of the mind, not even conscious, and then the 079s finish them off. Not anyone I'd want to support...

Can I try to design a cover for the NC book? I'll follow your ideas for it (galaxy with red edges, surrounded by red light).
I'm not stopping you, am I? :)

Any luck with Relic yet?
Haven't really tried, unfortunately.

Since Robert (Xellos) did not scream in protest when I sent him chapter 10, but actually seemed to approve of it ("And enjoy. I love watching a master of his craft at work. "), I'll go ahead and post it. :)
Chapter 10 is by far the longest chapter. I know I've said that several times already, but it's true. It is six thousand one hundred words, bringing the total up to 36,000. And there are still about 14 chapters yet...
The other thing of note is that it is a Sannel chapter, more so than any other chapter, with no Kaltar scenes. This was how I have planned it since...a very long time ago. Chapter 11, however, will be a Kaltar chapter, with only the end having Sannel.
Chapter 10 -

The Reflection

16th Nov 01, 9:07 PM

10
Kaaltow
”Promise me that you will look over Sannel...promise. She is more fragile than she appears, and with all of the manipulation…she will break. Watch over her and care for her…because I don’t think anyone else will…Promise…”

Last words of Guardian Nilsa
Kaaltow Asteroid Shrine
12460.9 AHL

Sannel slowly stepped along the Shimmering Path. She had learned that it was modeled after the ancient Shimmering Path on Kharak, a string of Somtaaw temples. Only the most devout and the strongest could reach the final temple. And here a path stretched miles into the distance, actually shimmering with golden light, winding up a final mountain towards the end. The vista around her, inviting like the exterior of the Shrine, seemed to stretch dozens of miles without a hint of curvature, yet the asteroid was only a few tens of kloms wide. The Kaaltow must be adept at optical illusions. Or they had manipulated space-time itself, creating almost a pocket universe in the asteroid. Whatever the case, her ship had not been able to determine what the cause was, and standing here, Sannel wasn’t able to either.
She was still surprised to find herself here, Bound.
You must bind yourself, the Kaaltow had said. To hear yourself, you must remove yourself from the technology that surrounds you. You have forgotten pain and touch. Step out of that Cradle of yours, out of your ship, and feel the ground under your feet. The chiding had disturbed her – why would they want to bind her? And the “Cradle” – hadn’t she thought, on occasion that her ships central seat looked like a cradle?
Not that she was completely Bound – Sannel was still connected with her ship mentally; if she wished she could pilot it from here. But it all seemed like a daydream in this real, Bound existence.
Wind stung her face. While her silver and blue robe warmed her body somewhat, her head had no such protection. She ran a hand across her bare scalp – Hiigaran tradition had dictated that it be bare upon assuming a ship and becoming fully Unbound. Sannel had still represented herself to Kaltar with the same hair she had had before receiving her ship and now she retted not having it. Sannel was cold, shivering.
The sun’s light danced on her cheek. Sannel turned to face the rising sun set in a bright blue sky. Her vision filled with the nearly blinding light, and she stumbled backwards, covering her eyes.
She had never seen sunlight with her Bound eyes before.
Sannel hung her head low. There are still some things I have not learned, she thought. She wanted to be back on her ship; she wanted to see and feel more here.
Sannel took another step on the magical golden path.

I see you survived the Demons, Hilya greeted.
Demons? asked Glaan, not amused. He was much weaker than when she last met him, wounded and limping. It was as if Hilya could knock him over with a slight push. Still, he held his reserved air about him.
As dear Nilsa called them, before she…left, Hilya answered.
So the Kaaltow have known about the inhabitants of Globular Cluster 079 but have neglected to tell us.
No, Hilya replied. After Nilsa and I joined for that moment…she mentioned ‘demons.’ She was vague about it and was incoherent after the Vision, but from what I read from her…we now see who could fit the role.
Glaan was silent.
Come, Glaan, it has been ten years since we have last crossed paths, when we paid respects for Nilsa, Hilya continued. And before that, I believe that the last contact was thirty years ago, when Sannel bound herself.
I believe your advice then was, ‘We are too bound up in being Unbound,’ Glaan repeated with more than just a hint of annoyance.
Hilya laughed. The others in the Twelve wanted something to that effect. The wording was my suggestion, though. And it is still true. You still shield yourselves in your Dream ship. You still insist we speak this way instead of face-to-face. The closest we are to a meeting is that you are projecting yourself over here. Nilsa agreed to bind herself-
-Which almost certainly was what killed her. Hilya remembered Nilsa, spindly and limping as she emerged from the Dream ship. Not like a seat, nor the “Cradle” of normal Hiigaran ships, Hilya had thought she had been in a coffin, emerging from a state of death.
It was her time. Rather than let herself wither away, she came here and sought answers for all of us. Hilya sighed. And here we are, still arguing, even after she tried to bridge the gap.
Glaan was silent.
And how are you? I notice you accompanied Sannel here. Did something happen besides the demons of 079?
Selta requested a Dream. We agreed. And we agreed after watching that I would watch her.
The Guardians always seemed to think they knew best.
And the other, younger one?
Junan, Glaan named.
We noticed the transmissions between his and Sannel’s ship.
We already told Sannel that we existed, Glaan replied. Guardians are free to choose how to protect the Line, under the core values and the Overseers.
But you do not approve, do you?
After Globular Cluster 079…Sannel has not been herself. Junan is…less experienced and was…less able to deal with the inhabitants of Globular Cluster 079. I will not interfere.
So you Guardians do have a heart, Hilya said, knowing that Glaan would not see the humor.
Glaan changed the subject. The Dream-Vision.
Yes, that. No, we have not been able to interpret or decode it either. It seems infinitely complex, beyond us.
Nor us. We have, however, been able it in a certain class of fractals which has infinite members. We have ruled out some of the simplest solutions and even a few subclasses…but we have not reached a solution yet.
There still are several mysteries of Dreams and Visions. I remember very little from the Dream… since this was the first time in recent history that a Guardian and a Kaaltow have linked, we did not have much control over the Dream-Vision. Our memories were vague. And of the little we do remember, we have absolutely no idea of the meaning. Nilsa said it was a message…but other than that…
We do have one hint, though, Glaan stated. The songs of hyperspace, when translated into the appropriate format, do belong to the same class of fractals as the result of the Dream-Vision. We have tried various operations on the two… it does not work, but there does appear to be a few non-random elements to the result, a correlation.
There was a similarity between the song of hyperspace and the message.
Why? Hilya wondered aloud.
We do not know. We also attempted it with early records and our own projections of hyperspace before Outside fell. Again there was a correlation. Finally, we attempted to…we applied what Outside would have ‘sounded’ like. That produced the best fit we have found yet.
Outside? asked Hilya, aghast. That…monstrosity which released the Beast on us was part of the…
The actual correlation is still very low. But it is nonzero.
Hilya would not accept it. Perhaps it is a fluke, or something inherent to that class of fractals. Neither of us know much about this.
No. I am sending our findings to you, Glaan said. And I trust that Sannel will be safe under your watch.
Of course. The data came to her, and echoed into the Kaaltow communal mind. There it could be accessed by any who wished. Already the others in the Twelve were alerted. Hilya, however, had not much interest in examining it all now.
In reply, Kaaltow analysis was sent to Glaan, where it was relayed along an orderly, neat network.
We are watching.
Watch all you wish, but we will speak to her.
The link closed. Hilya moved her mind back into the Bound state. The mechanical grey Unbound connection had always felt uncomfortable to her. Here, concentrated in her Bound body, only supplemented by Unbound limbs across the Shrine, was home.
She remembered how Nilsa seemed at home embedded in her ship, how after she bound herself to speak with the Kaaltow, Hilya could see the loss in her aging eyes. This was the foreign existence for Nilsa, out there in the stars was home.
And Sannel – caught between the two extremes. Able to live in both existences, but at home in neither. How can you stand it? Hilya asked. How can you live like this?

Sannel felt sick. Her knees, her feet, her back ached with an intensity she had not known was possible. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Her head was throbbing. She felt nauseous and faint. And she still shivered, cold. Always cold.
At first Sannel had passed the time simply with the novelty of being Bound. The wind, the color, the sun, the smell of the plants, the feeling of ground under her feet – it was all new to her. Quickly, though, the pain built up. She was on the frailer side; her body was not used to it. Being Bound had become a liability.
Then Sannel had talked with her ship. Her ship was counting the time she had been on the Path and estimated how far she had went. She relayed her impressions to the ship, giving it a taste of a life it could never have, while it sent its scans of the Shrine, various information from the Telana. The pain still grew more intense, though, and Sannel started losing interest. The last she remembered from it was that she was in the Shrine for several hours, the ship estimating she had walked about half the Path, which ship had estimated to be two or three kilometers.
Now Sannel was barely aware of her surroundings, her own body. Sannel’s mind was blank, a state that had come easily to her, stepping along the Path as if in a trance. She was not aware of how far away the end was. There was only the Path, becoming steeper as she went, and the persistence that carried her farther. Only when she had tripped and fell – which had happened more than once – did she gain any awareness of her surroundings, and she quickly became numb again.
For minutes, hours, she was like this. Time held no meaning for her. She did not care. None of it mattered. None of it meant anything.
Sannel realized her surroundings had suddenly vanished, her vision whitened. All detail was lost. She could not tell where she was. For a few moments, Sannel thought she was dying, already dead.
The whiteness faded, vague details appearing before her, the golden light of the Path returning. Without adieu, everything returned to normal. Sannel searched for the cause, and found it – a cloud. It must have passed her as she made her way up. Sannel felt foolish for being afraid of it.
The sun neared the zenith. There were clouds, puffy cumulus, below here and around her. The base of the Path seemed to be miles below; she was well up the mountain. More optical illusions, or more manipulations of space and time.
The Path was nearing its end. At the summit lay twelve shining, triangular pillars arranged in a circle. They were clear, crystalline, throwing rainbows onto the ground all around them. There was an aura of unreality about the place, almost dream-like.
That must be my destination, Sannel thought. She forced herself up the Path, suppressing her pain, dragging herself along. For moments, it seemed to be moving away from her, but soon enough, though, she found the pillars looming over he, the Path ending in a blaze of gold at the very center. With quite some effort, she pushed into that center, stumbling into the ring of pillars.
For a minute, silence. Sannel looked around, waiting. They promised me answers.
“And you shall get them.”
Sannel spun around and found her standing next to one of the pillars, which now glowed a soft amethyst. She was older than Sannel, dressed in lavender and white, with a thick purple cape and a golden necklace. She was startled not only by the sudden appearance but by the sheer extravagance of it. Sannel had always thought her silver and blue gown was bold, and it was compared to the somber colors other Hiigarans chose to wore. But this - her clothing was simple and conservative in comparison; she felt like a peasant before royalty.
“Do not be afraid, Sannel.”
Nevertheless, Sannel trembled.
“My name is Hilya. We have been expecting you…for a long time.”
Hilya took a few steps forwards. “Silver and blue.” She pointed at Sannel.
It took a few moments to recognize what she was saying. “Kiith Limandatt,” she replied, finding her voice broken and quiet.
“We consider them friends…it is a long story.” She still seemed intrigued by something else about the appearance of Sannel. “You have her eyes.”
“Whose?” Sannel wondered.
“Datlai’s.”
Hilya produced a cup filled with water. “It has been a long walk for you and your body is not used to the stress. Sit down and drink this. And try to breathe normally…despite the altitude, there is plenty of oxygen.”
Sannel realized she was gasping. She made herself breathe regularly, although her lungs seemed to implode and explode, forcing air in and out of her with a violent ferocity. Sannel, finding no seat, descended, nearly collapsing, to the ground below her. She took the cup of water and – hesitantly – drank of it.
The cold tasteless water seemed to force itself down her throat. Sannel coughed, trying to get some air.
“Slower. You haven’t ever drunk anything before, have you?” Hilya asked.
“When I was younger…” Sannel replied, breathless. “I must have…forgotten…”
Hilya placed a hand on Sannel’s face, kneeling down. “Give yourself a few minutes to rest. Most Hiigarans would not walk that far…even though they could.”
“The Shimmering Path on Kharak…”
“Yes?”
“Was it…that long?”
Hilya smiled, but it was a sad, pitying smile. “It was much longer than that, I am afraid. You walked about five kilometers. While that is impressive…that might be the distance from the first to the second temple.
Sannel looked down. She could feel herself want to cry, but her tears were dry.
“This is still the end of the Path. You have made it all of the way, Sannel.”
“I never did get a chance to visit Kharak…not even in my ship.”
“No…but you have found a piece of it,” Hilya said.
Sannel looked up into Hilya’s face with its warm, welcoming expression.
“One of the temples on the Shimmering Path was named Clee San. Truth Seeker. It’s appropriate, isn’t it? And the last temple was named the Temple of Mysteries…I know this is new to you.”
“You said you had answers.”
“It is time to discover them, then.”

Sannel’s head rested on her palms. She looked at Hilya with that same wonder-filled expression she had since coming to the Shrine. Hilya could not but think how much she looked like a child enchanted by a story.
Hilya herself was feeling a little tired. Her Visions were weaker, interfered with. It almost felt like losing a limb, being blindfolded. Sannel had trouble accepting them, and that was affecting her. The Kaaltow lived in an open society with a communal mind, impossible to keep a secret in. But Sannel was not used to that openness, and she was not used to acceptance. Hilya promised to herself that she would suffer in quietness – she had faced interference with Visions before, enough so that she was not in pain. She could accept an irritant to help the tormented Hiigaran before her.
“It began sometime after the Kushan returned to Hiigara, the first of the Exiles to come home. The Beast was crushed and even Outside had fallen…old conflicts continued, but there was hope,” Hilya began.
“And in the midst of this a new kiith was rising. A group of Somtaaw and some Kaalel, a few Soban and others… a group of a few hundred led by Founders Jasor and Jaana, who shared a common vision of a free, enlightened society, independent of the kiith troubles back on Hiigara.”
“The Kaaltow,” Sannel concluded for her.
“Yes. But some of us…shared more than a vision. Or, rather we shared a different kind of vision.” Hilya smiled. “The Vision.
“The origins of Visions were not known…even now, we still are not sure what causes them and how they work. The early Kaaltow did know it had been around for millennia. Those with the strongest were called Oracles.”
Recognition spread on Sannel’s face.
“It seemed to be hereditary, and a generally dominant ‘Oracle gene’ was even isolated. But it seemed…more of a switch, one that made it easier to have the Visions. Even those without it could have Visions… However, the Oracle of that time, one of the Founders, as well as everyone else with the gene, was drawn here by their Visions.”
“And…all of the Oracles…are Kaaltow?” Sannel asked.
“All except a few,” answered Hilya. “One of whom is sitting right before me.”
Once again, there was wonder and apprehension. Hilya could hear the confusion and rejection in her thoughts; she could see the blankness of Sannel’s mind. Hilya wanted to reassure poor, confused Sannel, to hold her close. But whenever she approached, Sannel recoiled and withdrew. She was afraid of her, of this Bound existence, of everything.
Hilya could feel the fresh scars in her mind. The 079s, as Sannel had called them, the demons, as Nilsa had called them, had in a few minutes undone any and all progress she had made emotionally since she was a child. And yet Hilya could tell this was more than recent trauma – some of the wounds seemed older. She had already been about to break, Hilya knew, but the 079 demons had pushed her well over the edge.
Hilya continued. “Another kiith was rising and taking hold once again. One more familiar to you.”
“Kiith Limandatt.”
“Yes. It too had its reasons for seeking its destiny among the stars. Two kiithid, small, alone, but growing. Naturally, they crossed paths more than once…and naturally a few children of each fell in love with those of the other. Among these were the child of Tasiin and Datlai and the youngest child of the Founders. But there were some who opposed this, who feared the Oracle gene must not be allowed to slip into the general population. Most problematic was that the new couple would have lived among the Limandatt… With time, the others…allowed the marriage…under the condition that a group from each side watch over the children, and their descendants, and theirs, and theirs… We, the Kaaltow, are the first group. The other is the Guardians of the Line of Tasiin.”
Sannel’s face fell with that name. Hilya could not blame her; dealing with the Guardians tested her patience and ability to remain calm. Sannel had almost certainly faced their power more directly than she had.
“They made you Dream.”
Sannel nodded.
“We will not do that to you.”
“Why go to the trouble?” she asked.
Hilya realized she was talking about watching over the descendants in the Line that Extended Beyond. “Both kiith Limandatt and the Kaaltow knew there would be troubles ahead…especially the Naggarok launchers...they knew we would have no defense against them. The only one of us who could defeat them was Tasiin…we need someone with that power. It was believed that Tasiin’s descendants would have a piece of that, be more powerful, more Unbound than other Hiigarans. Combined with Visions…”
“So now I am a weapon,” Sannel said blankly, covering up her anger. In truth, Sannel had been correct, exactly right in how both the Guardians and the Kaaltow viewed her. But Hilya could not bear to admit that. Sometimes it is better not to know.
“No, you are not, Sannel. But you, your father, his mother, and her’s, you have a chance to be…heroes. Saviors. Like Tasiin and Datlai. Like Founders Jasor and Jaana. You have been given a great gift. It is yours to do as you please. But wouldn’t you like to be able to do something good, something greater than yourself?”
Sannel’s thoughts seemed to radiate from her in defiance. But how – how can there be anything – how can I do anything greater than myself? How can there be anything? There is nothing but a cold, uncaring universe in which we are all doomed. I…
Sajuuk, what has happened to Sannel? What could have done this to her? Hilya wondered. Sannel was shivering again, her eyes red and bleary; Hilya knew she was crying dry tears. She did not care what the Guardians wanted, what Sannel wanted. She could hold it in no more. Hilya wrapped her arms around Sannel. Sannel was shaking, tense, still shivering. A soft cry escaped from her.
“We will show you and teach you about the Sight.”
Sannel only shivered in reply, and Hilya knew even that was involuntary. Yet Hilya could not release her.
“Say something.”
Silence.
Pushing Sannel made no difference. She was not Kaaltow, not linked to a communal mind, not used to having her feelings in the open. Nilsa had again and again stressed this, and she had went ahead anyway. The communal mind was impatient with this, some even wondering if Sannel should leave because of her reluctance. We told her she had to be willing. The Guardians had similarly been impatient.
Her Bound friend, Kaltar, must have the patience of a god, Hilya thought. To spend months with her…
Hilya gave her one final squeeze, then let go.

Sannel sat before a pool of water, her eyes nervously switching between Hilya and the water. Hilya had meant well, she knew, but Sannel did not like touch, feeling almost nauseous. She wanted to trust her, but something in her would not let her, forcing her to hide from this well-meaning Kaaltow.
“My first Vision…that I remember…was K’Basal. Just a moment before they burned it, I…Saw…two flowers blossoming on the surface of the world. And then – two devices incinerated the planet. I Saw the deaths of millions…and did nothing about it.”
“Sannel…you did not know what you were Seeing. You did not know that you were Seeing. How can you be responsible for what happened there?”
But you don’t understand! An ancient echo of bitterness was speaking to her again.
“I could have stopped it. I could have warned them. I could have – but I have millions of deaths on my hands. How can you forgive me? How can I bear to – to –“ She must not cry. Sannel had already done so many times since coming back from…them. She could not bear to do so again. She barely kept the tears from escaping the wells of her eyes. “-To…”
“Sannel, the B’qula were bent on slaughtering the Bitalq. If they would not have succeeded the first time – and I truly doubt you could have stopped it – they would have come back, again and again, until they succeeded.”
“But what do you know of what it is like to have…known before and be powerless? What do you know of seeing a planet burned-“
Hilya stood up and walked past her. Sannel at first did not look, out of resentment, but when she did turn around, Hilya wasn’t there. The crystalline pillar that had been glowing was dark. It was as if she had vanished.
Sannel continued shivering. It felt so cold.
“No…no, I didn’t mean it. Come back…please…” she pleaded.
She felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around again, Sannel found Hilya, grimmer than before, holding something metallic, a tarnished silver, in her arms.
“I thought…I thought you had gone.”
“I did,” Hilya replied. “But not out of hurt. You asked if we knew what it is like to live with the knowledge of being witness to the burning of a planet. Look at this.” She gave it, with infinite care to Sannel. Sannel accepted it.
On them were some kind of writing, some of it somewhat like Hiigaran, some resembling Taiidan. “What is it?”
“One of the Star Metal Scrolls.”
That could not be. Everyone knew they were just another legend, and even if they existed, they had been destroyed. “You cannot – I thought they had burned on Kharak.”
“One of the Founders had…during the Exodus, her ship…landed on Lungma Jiim, at the Temple of Mysteries. The Founders agreed they should never be revealed to the other Hiigarans. So, we have been holding them and keeping them safe. They may yet even outlast this war, even if…nothing else does.”
She tried to give them back. “I should not-“
“Go ahead and look at them, touch them if you wish.” Hilya smiled. “Surely you do not doubt our abilities to keep them preserved, do you?”
“But – I…cannot deserve this…”
“Those who finished the Shimmering Path on Kharak were allowed to touch them. You finished the Path.”
Sannel was still hesitant, and the scroll lay limp in her hands.”
Hilya laughed. “And it’s not like we get many visitors here…
“Read them.”
Sannel turned her eyes to the scroll. It was written partly in an ancient dialect of Kushan and an archaic form of Taiidan. Her ship translated for her. The words came to her, meaningless at first, but suddenly she understood.
“Tasiin, no… This…this is a treaty forbidding our return to hyperspace…that if we ever left Kharak and returned, they would – they would kill us all.”
Hilya took back the scroll, walking away, disappearing again. But her voice still came to Sannel: Our Founders were the lucky survivors of that atrocity…as well as Tasiin and Datlai. All Hiigarans of Kharakian descent, including you and me, are children of the Burning of Kharak. We have constant reminders of the price of our need to grow…
“We know, Sannel. We know more than you can ever know,” Hilya concluded distantly, from behind. Before Sannel could say anything more, she continued. “Even now, we don’t really know how Visions work. But we do know some factors that affect them – the presence of the Oracle gene, concentration, whether you accept Visions, spatial and temporal distance, training, the emotional impact of the image…but one that is perhaps the most important is probability.”
“Chance? I thought you See the future – “
Hilya shook her head. “Sannel, you may be young for an Unbound one, but you are smarter than that. A Bound person would have no trouble telling you why. There is no absolute future. Quantum physics says that everything is governed by chance…everything is chance. It is not simply a limitation of how we think, it is the way the Universe works. What a Vision shows is not the future, but a possible future. The more likely the future, the stronger the Vision.”
Sannel nodded.
“Just a few seconds before the B’qula would have burned K’Basal, what would have been the chance of them succeeding?”
Sannel saw her point. “Almost one hundred percent.”
“Yes. The B’qula could have decided to forgo it, or they could have surrendered, or their weapons could all have failed to work…but what was the likelihood?”
“Not at all likely,” Sannel finished.
“And do you think you could have done anything to stop them?”
“No.”
“Exactly,” she concluded.
There was something reassuring about the way she said it. Sannel felt that one sin being cleansed.
You killed us, the 079s had said as she Dreamed. But that, Sannel could find no part of her that felt guilty for that. Besides, she knew what Kaltar had been thinking and what he had said. He did not think it was a crime. The B’qula might even have done the Galaxy a service. While Sannel could not bring herself to go that far, she would not grieve the 079s either.
And yet Sannel still felt saddened.
“Look into the pool of water.”
“What am I looking for?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why-“
“-Don’t look for something, but look into it. Calm your mind and still your thoughts.”
Sannel did as she was told, but was not sure what the point was. Several times, Hilya told her to look into, not at the water, stressing to her to clear her thoughts. It took several minutes, but Sannel could finally feel her mind coalesce into one course of thought, calm and relaxed. It slightly surprised her, how natural this felt.
“What are you sensing?” asked Hilya, her voice quiet, even hypnotic.
“Nothing…” whispered Sannel. “White noise. A few things, all…fleeting…”
“Minds are always filled with thoughts. But a few images, a few of the things you are feeling are more than thoughts. They are the weaker Visions, all blurred together, like static. They are times that are not likely to be…times that do not concern you…times that are distant. All times and all places, all possibilities. Most are not sensed. Most of the rest are subconscious. Most of the rest barely touch your mind. Only a few grab hold of you. But they are all there.
“Just let your mind remain still…this helps Visions. Dreams help, or narrow concentration… with skill one can even induce Visions. But that takes skill…for now, just rest.”
This is peaceful, Sannel thought. A gentle flicker of images slid past her, fantasies and dreams, memories and a few that Sannel guessed were Visions. She had never felt so relaxed.
Suddenly, an image came to her mind, halting the lazy procession. A pattern, but abstract… detailed beyond her comprehension, swirls of color and light and dark. It seemed meaningless, yet it felt important. What does it mean?
“You’re still thinking too much. Try not to think.”
Sannel tried, but could not do as she asked. The image was still fresh in her memory. “I cannot.”
“Try to lose yourself in your thoughts, then.”
Lost. The word consumed her mind. Her mind awoke, weary and startled. She could not lose herself. It was bad enough it had happened once. No. “No.”
“Sannel-“
“I don’t want to be Lost. I-“ Her heart was pounding. She had to get away.
“We do not fear the Lost, and you need not either. “
How can I not be afraid of being Lost?
“We respect them for what they are. They still are Kaaltow. We accept them, and you can too.”
How can I ever accept them? You do not know what you are talking about!
Open yourself, Hilya said.
No. Sannel stumbled backwards, slipping on the ground. Yet she was awkward in her Bound form; Hilya did not seem to have any trouble following her. She didn’t even seem to be walking, but was haunting her like a mirage, always at the same distance.
Go away!
“Sannel.”
Go- Her thoughts cut off mid-sentence. The distant aches she had had flared out, inflaming her entire body. Sannel fell to her knees, releasing a pained cry. Her sight turned into a tunnel, darkening. Her hands clenched, fingernails driving into her palms, hot blood flowing out. She was gasping for air. Sannel shivered uncontrollably.
“Sannel!” Hilya’s hands cradled her head as her body shook. “Try to remain calm. Everything will be fine-“
Sannel fell into the dark abyss of her mind.

When she awoke, she was exhausted. The sky was a deeper shade of blue. Sannel slowly looked around. Hilya was sitting beside her. The sun was near the horizon, set in a band of yellow and pink.
“Do not try to move. You are still rather faint.”
“What happened?” she asked.
Hilya was distant. “You were pushed too far. Your body was pushed too far. For most Kaaltow… there would be no problem. But you aren’t used to exerting yourself. Combined with emotional stress, especially after everything you have just been through… I should have anticipated this…your Bound body could not take the stress. It obviously wasn’t an infection…but you were having a trouble. For a moment, your heartbeat was weak and erratic…and your blood…”
Sannel looked at her palms. The wounds from herself had healed. But on her hands were stains of red. Her own blood. Hilya took them in hers.
“Did the Guardians tell you about Nilsa?”
Sannel shook here head weakly, feeling dizzy, the name unfamiliar.
“Nilsa…was one of the Guardians. She looked after you. When you… long ago… were afraid of hyperspace, it was her who defended you. She was tired of the constant manipulation of the Line.”
“She cared for us?”
“She cared for you, Sannel.”
“Where is she?”
“She died…ten years ago.”
A moment of silence passed between them.
“She came to us, towards the end. She wanted to know what would happen to you. My Visions… it is hard to See sometimes… but she induced a Dream in me... and I induced a Vision in her…and we linked together.”
“What did you See?”
Hilya did not seem interested in sharing what they had Seen with her. Instead, she quieted Sannel. “Have you ever seen a sunset before?”
Sannel shook her head.”
“Watch, then.”
Slowly the sun crept towards the horizon. The sky lit up in color, magentas and oranges and yellows, ablaze with refracted sunlight. The clouds cast long shadows on the ground, their tops glowing with a golden cast. The orange orb of the sun, bloated and flat, sank below the horizon, its last rays stroking Sannel’s face. A blue afterimage in Sannel’s vision marked the place where it once was. Sannel felt grieved in seeing it go. Was that the last time I will ever see the sun with these eyes?
“That… I never knew… Before today, the only thing I had ever seen with my eyes were the insides of ships. I didn’t think I was missing anything… And now I don’t want to go back.” Her voice was breaking up again. Hilya reached out, enfolded her within her arms. She did not fight. The only other person she had hugged was her father; her other had never embraced her like this. This is what I was missing, Sannel realized. “I pitied Kaltar when I first met him. I was impatient with him, I did not think that…being Bound has its advantages.”
“Of course it does. I don’t think the Guardians realize that… but Nilsa learned. And I learned from them… being Unbound has its place. Your ship is waiting for you. And Kaltar… I think you are starting to understand each other. And there is a whole galaxy out there –“ Hilya tipped Sannel’s head up to the zenith, Sannel shaking with the sudden touch. The brightest stars were starting to peek out of the deep blue-violet sky, twinkling. “For now… this is not where you should be. After this war is over… we will welcome you here, if you wish.”
Starlight, another thing Sannel had never seen before with her eyes. It was starting to become chilly, but Sannel did not shiver. “What about the other things you wanted to teach me?” she asked, her gaze not straying.
“Do not worry about those… you will know them in time. You may trust us.”
For moments more, Sannel watched the stars revealing themselves, trying to engrain this into her memory. She was feeling tired. Before she forgot, she asked again, “What did Nilsa See?”
There was a pause. “I don’t know,” Hilya replied with that distance again.
“But…what do you See? What will happen to me?”
Hilya did not reply at first. Sannel fixed her gaze on her. “Please. Tell me this. You said you had answers.”
Hilya appeared apprehensive. But she closed her eyes, and spoke. “It is hard to See around you, Sannel… it is hard to See the end of the war. We do not really know why…there are so many routes, and we do not know which will happen.”
“Anything,” Sannel pleaded.
Again a pause, as Hilya concentrated. Finally, her lips started to move. “Listen for whispering ones, Sannel. Listen.” She opened her eyes.
“What does it mean?”
“You will have to tell us,” Hilya replied. “You look tired.”
Sannel closed her eyes, and let her muscles relax.
“Good night, Sannel.” Sannel smiled.
Hilya tapped her on the forehead and she felt a clam descend on her. She drifted downwards. Only in the periphery of her mind did she hear Hilya.
Like a child, she said, with a joy in her voice. But then we are all children…
Sweet dreams, Sannel.

Xellos

16th Nov 01, 9:56 PM

Excellent work, Brian. I rather enjoyed your take on the Kaaltow. It is not quite the vision I had in mind, perhaps... but it is better in many ways. I'm especially impressed with the World-ship of the Kaaltow... it's rather unlike the astroid home-worlds of the 079 and the Tangent. Then again... the Kaaltow aren't using their little home as a hideyhole (the Tangent) or a weapon (the 079). :)

So, my friends, the cat is out of the bag. Yes, at the end of the Cataclysm Personal Logs, Jasor and Jaana, along with Stelfai, Kensar, Saena, and others who will be introduced, ended up going off and making their own kiith, a combination of Kaalel and Somtaaw. Comprised of most of Fleet Intelligence and their families, and those with the Oracle gene.

Perhaps someday Brian and I will collaborate on writing the story of when Jasor and Jaana finally met Tasiin and Datlai. And the later meeting of their children. Of course, I really need to work on finishing my little story first! :D

Keep up the superb work, Brian. :) I eagerly await the upcoming parts of the story you've kept a secret from me. :D

dzurlord

27th Nov 01, 9:10 PM

Originally posted by Xellos
Of course, I really need to work on finishing my little story first! :D
[/B]

Yes you really do need to do that!!:p

Nice chapter Reflection though I think I'm going to need to read it again before I understand all of it.......:confused:

Don Armageddon

28th Nov 01, 11:56 AM

I will try tonight for teh first time to read the whjole thing through--I've never managed to get through more than ten or so pagesat a time...

But, if I may, there's one line in this near-masterpiece that I really, really, really hate.

Sannel hesitated.
We do not wish to harm you. It was a great tragedy when we attacked your people as the Devourer threatened us. We do not wish to repeat our mistakes as the Enemy threatens us now.

COME ON! It's THOUSANDS and THOUSANDS of years after the events of HW:C; do you really think that ANYONE, even a Hiigaran, would still hold the actions of the Bentusi against the Somtaaw against them? Hell, I wouldn't bet even Tasiin, only two years or so after that campaign, was scared of the Bentusi for that reason.

Sure, it's in a way important character-wise for Sannel to sort of fear the Bentusi, but you could have come up with many better reasons.

The Reflection

28th Nov 01, 3:37 PM

COME ON! It's THOUSANDS and THOUSANDS of years after the events of HW:C; do you really think that ANYONE, even a Hiigaran, would still hold the actions of the Bentusi against the Somtaaw against them? Hell, I wouldn't bet even Tasiin, only two years or so after that campaign, was scared of the Bentusi for that reason.

Sure, it's in a way important character-wise for Sannel to sort of fear the Bentusi, but you could have come up with many better reasons.
Well, 3,815 out of 3,816 lines isn't bad. ;)

Let me explain that logic for that one -
No, I don't think the Hiigarans or any of their other allies are going to hold the Bentusi responsible. I don't think they hold a grudge that long... they may very well have all but forgotten the incident, and it would be a historical curiousity.
...But I think, the Bentusi hold the Bentusi responsible. The Beast was the first real threat to their existence since they became Unbound. They had never encountered anything like it, and probably few or no threats of equal magnitude over the millenia (the B'qula being the first in a long while). It was a defining moment.
And when the Bentusi look back at that defining moment, at the first threat, what did they do?
They struck out in anger at the most convenient targets.
Granted, we may forgive the Bentusi, and the Hiigarans may forgive the Bentusi - they simply were defending themselves and their slipgate from attack. But the Bentusi... in the Outside universe, they are pacifists. They look down upon the wars and the cruelty of the Bound... but after the Beast, they knew they were capable of the same atrocities. They might cover up that regret, they may act like nothing is different (which they probably will do in HW2), everyone else may forgive them. But, after opening up to themselves and seeing that rage still lay there, they could never really forgive themselves.
Remember, the Unbound are probably longer-lived than us - they could perhaps live for millenia, certainly centuries (In a few decades, some experts believe, we will be living twice our current lifespans - or more). The Somtaaw battle is only a few generations away, at most. Some might even remember the battle itself. Seeing as it was a traumatic time for them, these Bentusi and their immediate descendants aren't likely to forget it.
Overall, to draw an example from American history, it might be compared to the treatment of the Native Americans, perhaps even the Wounded Knee Massacre. Sure, I doubt many Americans were alive during the mistreatment of the Native Americans, but for some reason, many still protest it and feel guilty about it. True guilt does not go away easily.

Hell, I wouldn't bet even Tasiin, only two years or so after that campaign, was scared of the Bentusi for that reason.
Well, Tasiin was rather indifferent to the universe, so he wouldn't really care. He would regard it more of an...aberation, a violent fit of behavior more than anything...Besides, beyond a certain point, he wouldn't be scared of the Bentusi for the simple reason that he could simply crush them out of existence on a whim if they tried anything against him. ;)
But in the beginning of Outside, if you read it again, there was a general fear amongst the Beastslayer project leaders that the Bentusi might go mad again.

Datlai: ...Everyone is afraid of what might happen if it is launched.
Tasiin: Except the Bentusi.
Datlai: Especially the Bentusi.
-Chapter 2

What is more of concern is how the Bentusi seem to be becoming more apprehensive as the launch date nears. They promised not to overreact if something happens, but as Pukna Somtaaw is quick to point out, they are quite adamant about not being Bound. If the unthinkable occurs, they might destroy our fleets as well as the Beastslayer, or they might leave us to defend ourselves on our own. - Dolann Kaalel, ch 3

The Bentusi have expressed deep concerns about something from “Outside” attacking the ship and wreaking destruction across the Universe. They do not go into specifics, but their fear is cause for much worry. What if they overreact? What if they inform the entire Council about the Beastslayer? What if they are justified in their fear? - Dolann Kaalel, ch 9

Finally, chapter 5...I didn't know what to write there, really... I knew what would happen in 6, 8, 10, and 14 and beyond, but 5 (and to some extent 7) were vague. I later decided on the Bentusi being in it, so that scene might be a little...rough. But I did think about the idea of the Bentusi feeling guilty a little beforehand.

The Reflection

16th Dec 01, 2:58 PM

I finished chapter 11, and it is, once again, the longest chapter so far. According to a linear regression I did on my calculator, the last chapters of NC will be nearing the 10,000 word mark, for a grand total of about 143,000 words. Or in other words, I'm less than a third of the way through this work... To think that the beginning chapters of Outside were less than a thousand words long and could be written in a single night...
Speaking of which, as of now NC exceeds Outside in word count - it is now 43,007 words long.

I eagerly await the upcoming parts of the story you've kept a secret from me.
You still know a few things about the upcoming chapters...the story isn't all secrets until, as I so clearly put it in that little chapter listing I gave you -

17 - (classified)
18 - (classified)
19 - (classified)
20 - (classified)
21 - (classified)
22 - (classified)
23 - (classified)
24 - (classified)...
;)

Nice chapter Reflection though I think I'm going to need to read it again before I understand all of it.......

I will try tonight for teh first time to read the whjole thing through--I've never managed to get through more than ten or so pagesat a time...
Just out of curiosity, is the difficulty because of any stylistic problems, because it is actually hard to read, or is it because there is so much going on that it's hard to keep track?

After reading your comment again, Armageddon, I realized you meant that you didn't see why Sannel was apprehensive around the Bentusi because of that incident, not why the Bentusi cared about it. The answer to that one - she doesn't really care about it - as you said it's thousands and thousands of years ago. It's just that the Bentusi, finding no other reason why she would be hesitant, thought the Somtaaw incident was the cause and they, being sensitive about it, apologized in case she hadn't forgiven them.
When I finish NC and go back to make corrections, I'll try to clarify that one. Thank you for bringing it up to my attention.

The Reflection

16th Dec 01, 3:00 PM

11
Faith
“I often still ask myself if I believe in Oracles and Visions and all of the mysticism the Kaaltow profess to believe in. Once I did not believe in any of it. With time, I saw things I could not explain, and I realized that maybe it should not have to be analyzed…that it belongs to Jaana and those who believe, not to scientists. I grew to accept it as something outside of the grasp of the Hiigarans’ reach… But still there is a part of me that doubts and demands an explanation.
“…I just wish the others did not follow me so blindly, but from their own decision. Faith has its place, but I do not want them to abandon skepticism and critical thinking either…that would only lead to disaster.
“…The other Kaaltow seem too arrogant, as if they know what is best for everyone. To be honest, I sometimes see it in myself… But the way they follow their Visions without question and without consideration for the subject is unnerving…”

Jasor Kaaltow’sa (Kaalel)

Kaltar paced back and forth on the Telana. He was restless, empty. For days after Latal had died, he had been empty, a great hole in his spirit. Now he realized that even in this short absence, Sannel had left a similar wound.
How did you do it? How did you find your way into my heart…when you can’t even enter your own?
A chime sounded as he passed the convening room. It was the communications system. He checked for the sender, and found himself disappointed to learn it was from the Great Elder. A few days ago, he was overjoyed to receive a message from the Great Elder. Now he merely thought of resentment – it was the Elder who sent them against the 079s.
He opened the message and found the Great Elder standing before him.
“Delegate Kaltar. We have heard of the…difficulty you have had in Globular Cluster 079. While it is regrettable you could not collect any more data or secure some kind of agreement with the inhabitants…the circumstances left you no choice.”
As if he needed an Elder to tell him that. He did not need anyone to justify their fleeing. The crew of the Telana was at stake. Sannel was at stake. He was at stake. And if they had not escaped, no one could have lived to warn others. The Elder could have cursed him for leaving, and Kaltar would still not care.
“The B’qula have pushed into Globular Cluster 079 and now reside at the edge of Zaala space. While we believe they were weakened by fighting off the 079s, as you termed them, they still are very strong in any number. The Zaala fleet is moving to a state of high alert. Several skirmishes have occurred already, most with disastrous results. Plans for evacuating the Zaala worlds are being devised…we have not told many how dire the situation is. But we could be facing a total loss…”
The Great Elder lingered. The thought of the destruction of his homeworld gave Kaltar pause too – an echo of that all too familiar grief. Yet there was something else in that demeanor, a hesitancy. Kaltar knew the Elder was going to ask something of him, and he quickly knew what it was.
“We therefore request that you return to the Galactic Council as soon as possible. You have done an outstanding job. But we need alliances and help, and you will need to be at the Galactic Council, interacting with other delegates for that purpose. We therefore request that you return – very soon, if not immediately.
“We hear that you have sought out some people out of ancient legends, the Kaaltow. We have had some doubts about their existence, and their nature… The Telana reports that you have located the Kaaltow…a fine achievement. Try to acquire their assistance, if possible. Once you are finished, return to the Council. Your services are needed among the other races.
“To the Zaala people,” the Great Elder’s message closed.
Kaltar was restless. As soon as he tried to help someone, as soon as he tried to make a real difference, he was stopped and questioned. The Galactic Council would not be anything more of a help with or without him. The Zaala were happy to want to help the Hiigarans when the B’qula were far away and the Hiigarans weren’t in need, but as soon as the B’qula neared, they would back off.
Enough, he thought. Enough of this. Stop it. The others, the Elders were not perfect, but they were trying to do what they could with what they had. He must not get angry. He would simply hope that the Kaaltow would heal Sannel, and then they would be on their way.
Kaltar composed a response. He summoned all of his restraint and dignity.
“This is Delegate Kaltar, and I did receive your instructions. We will be returning shortly to the Galactic Council. First, thought, we will remain at the Kaaltow Shrine. I ask –“ demand, Kaltar wanted to say, but held back, “-this as a diplomatic favor for Delegate Sannel, who has been an invaluable resource during the mission. We feel this is… the Kaaltow may be able to provide guidance for Sannel that will allow her to more fully tap into her abilities… and to make sense of the viciousness of the 079s.
“I stress that we would have been still in Globular Cluster 079 had our plans not been interfered with, he continued. “This is something that, although unexpected, may lead us in new directions. This is something that I feel…” He could find no real reason that the Elder would understand; no real reason that even he understood. “…That must be done,” he concluded.
“When we are done, which should not take much time the Telana will return to the Galactic Council. There I will carry out anything necessary to ensure the safety of the Zaala people. Until then, we will do what we can docked in the Shrine.
“To the Zaala people – Delegate out.” The message was sent.
He was shocked with himself. He had just basically agreed with the Elder, had not made even a single plea to extend their time at the Shrine. Several bitter replies he could have said surfaced, anger echoed through him.
No – it can still work, he told himself. We will just have to head straight back to the Council after the Kaaltow. I’ll just have to hope the Kaaltow will be enough. He hadn’t even considered what they would do after the Kaaltow – he had always assumed they would be sufficient. Why was he so bitter?
“Kaltar.”
The voice was unfamiliar. He instinctively looked around, finding nothing. There was an open communications channel open with…someone, but they would not show themselves. There was something strange about the voice – it didn’t quite seem male or female, not even like one voice, but more of a chorus – but even that didn’t quite fit it. Kaltar was most disturbed by the way it, for a moment, seemed to sound like Latal. But the sensation was fleeting, perhaps the result of an overactive imagination.
“Come and speak with us.”
“And who is this?” Kaltar demanded, knowing the answer.
A pause. “You must know that by now.”
“The Kaaltow.”
“You brought her to us. Now enter the Shrine and speak with us.”
“Why?”
“We see our reasons,” the Kaaltow said.
“Just where will I meet you?”
“That will become obvious.”
They were going in circles. “Tell me what you want.”
“That will be explained. You will come and you will speak with us.”
The Kaaltow’s arrogance was beginning to irritate him. But he could withstand another minor annoyance. There was nothing else Kaltar could think of doing. So, he would enter the Shrine and find out what they wanted with him.
“Who will I meet-“ he began.
Silence. They were gone, leaving as suddenly as they came.
Kaltar had to go to the Shrine. But he doubted the other Zaala were willing to let him go alone, with minimal protection. He could not let them stand in his way.
He would go to the bridge and talk to them in person. He could see them there, determine what they were thinking and speak accordingly. Then, with or without their blessing, he would go.
Kaltar entered the bridge.
“Delegate Kaltar!” the commander exclaimed. “We were not expecting you. Had you provided some time-“
“There is no need of that, thank you,” Kaltar assured. He noticed a spot on the bridge floor attracting his attention, a seemingly insignificant point. “Have you detected any transmissions from the Kaaltow?”
“Our systems received a transmission – directed at you – from several points in the Shrine. Did they say anything?” So, they must at least be aware of the message, perhaps his desire to leave.
“The want me to come over,” Kaltar replied.
“But you do not plan on doing so,” the commander finished. When Kaltar did not answer, his face fell into a frown. “Do you?”
“I do,” he said.
The commander’s face seemed to twist in horror. He’s more than reluctant… Kaltar thought. Behind the commander, the point on the floor beckoned. “Sir, I cannot let you go there. We do not know what their intentions or their capabilities are.”
“Exactly. I intend to find them out, if I can.”
The commander lost any pretense of holding back how insane it sounded. “Delegate…” he began, trying to find words that would convince this obviously mad Kaltar before him not to leave while still being respectful. “The Kaaltow have not spoken to any of us for millennia. They have shown no inclination towards helping us since then, nor do they show any inclination of enlightening us now or of participating in the war. For all we know, they could be hostile, and we are in their docking bay, in their midst, in position for whatever they would do to us. You could walk right into their trap – literally. I cannot let you leave.”
Kaltar noticed the other bridge officers staring at them, at him, incredulous. They could not believe the commander would object so vehemently to him, they could not believe that he would go.
“…Sir,” added the commander.
Reality seemed to be throbbing around Kaltar. Memories were flowing up to him.
Kaltar studied the commander’s face, trying to learn how to persuade him. Latal once was intrigued by such observation, never quite mastering the art of it. Latal. Four years ago, at the very spot that seemed to pulse, she…left. He subconsciously moved there.
“If they wanted to destroy us…” Kaltar said, distractedly, “They could have easily done so by now.” He halfheartedly gestured to the main viewscreen. The Telana was inside of the Shrine, in a docking bay. It did not look like a conventional dock – instead, it looked more like a spherical cavern, a few kilometers across, the surface uneven with stalactites and stalagmites reaching out, pools of water seemingly defying gravity as they rested all around the sphere. The Telana was closed in on all sides, docked with a surface that passed for ground and which had an opening. Sannel’s ship was nearby, also landed. “They have attacked neither us nor Sannel’s ship.”
Kaltar stopped over the spot where it had all gone wrong. He glanced downwards hoping that she was there.
“Delegate – if I may speak frankly – I fear that you may be unnecessarily putting your life at risk. It has been something…we have felt there has been disturbing you – besides the war - for the past few months.” He glanced nervously at Kaltar, at where he was standing. “If you need…help-”
He knew. He had seen her with him there.
“-No, thank you.”
“…I will not let you put yourself at risk,” the commander stated.
Kaltar again looked at him, prying his eyes away from the floor. “We entered Globular Cluster 079 and we were in much clearer danger there.”
“There was no way you could have known-“
Kaltar fixed his gaze, penetrating. “But I did know. Sannel knew. That’s the point.”
The commander as silent.
“This is something I must do. Just as it was something Sannel had to do.”
“And if they have led Delegate Sannel into a trap, as they might do to you?”
It was hard to conceive of them hurting Sannel. But if they had… he would simply hurt them back whatever way he could.
Kaltar could see embarrassment creep onto him. He had openly defied Kaltar, a delegate of the Galactic Council. But Kaltar was uninterested int the power games, the subtle manipulation. “Can I at least convince you to carry a weapon at least?” the commander pleaded.
Kaltar nearly laughed at the thought of carrying a weapon. “If the Kaaltow have the Sight, wouldn’t you think they would See that I have the weapon and act accordingly?”
“Still, it would be safer if you had one.”
“I do not know how to use one. I would probably end up hurting myself more than them.” The spot below his feet tugged at him, demanding attention. He had to leave.
“I will go,” he said, and he brushed past the commander, out of the bridge, out of that monument to the nightmarish memories.

A golden path lay before Kaltar. If this place was a threat, there was no sign of it. The Shrine reminded him more of home than of a ship; he felt somewhat underwhelmed, even disappointed by it.
The sun was either setting or rising in the distance. Bands of ragged grey clouds, highlighted with sunlight, were set in a yellow sky. An occasional gust of wind swept past him. Somehow the landscape seemed barren, despite the green mat of grass and other plants surrounding him. There was no sign of intelligence; he did not hear any animal calls; he saw no towering forests nearby.
The path led a few miles into the distance, up a gently sloping mountain. The Kaaltow said that his destination would be obvious enough.
Do not hesitate. We are waiting, the Kaaltow said.
“Would you mind telling me what I should expect?” Kaltar asked.
There came no answer. Obviously.
Kaltar began to walk on the path.

The end lay perhaps half a mile away. There appeared to be several crystalline pillars arranged in a circle. The golden path led straight into the center of the formation.
Kaltar took another step on the golden path, but stopped. The pain was fading, leaving him stranded partly up the mountain. The light shimmered and died. There was no path anymore.
Suddenly, the other Zaala’s fear of an ambush made sense. But he strangely felt a calm, a resignation. If it is my time to move to the Realm of the Elders, then I will go. He stood, closing his eyes, taking in the sensation of the wind and cool air for one last time.
He thought he heard laughter. He could feel light emanating from around him. He opened his eyes and found himself once again on a path – this one a shifting red and orange. It led not to the top of the mountain, but on one side, like a wall of fire protecting the pillars. The path unsettlingly reminded him of the fire in his dream.
He instinctively looked around, searching for any traps and surveying the path ahead. Finding none, he followed the path.
It wound around the mountain, revealing a small plateau, again with twelve pillars. The red path led into the center, giving the pillars a fiery glow. Stopping outside the circle, he grasped one of the pillars. It felt impossibly warm and soft under his hand. The material felt unlike anything he had ever encountered before.
Come in. The command did not feel like the others, though – there was only one voice instead of a chorus; less commanding and more friendly. It seemed to convey trustworthiness – but Kaltar knew better than to trust this Kaaltow solely on voice.
He entered, though, knowing it was the destination. The inside, an open space meters wide, seemed empty.
“May I now get an explanation?” Kaltar asked into the emptiness.
“You may.”
She was standing behind him, as if she had materialized out of thin air. Dressed in white and lavender, carrying an air of…something…respect, but also of unreality, the Kaaltow was looking at him. “We meet at last, Kaltar.”
“And who would you be?”
“My name is Hilya,” the Kaaltow replied, circling around him. “We have been watching you for some time. And now it is time that we talked.”
“Where is Sannel?”
“She is with us for now. You will see her soon enough.”
Kaltar nodded. He still wasn’t sure if he should trust this Kaaltow, Hilya. “My Elders wish me to…hurry up. So, if you may, please say what you must.”
Hilya was studying him with an odd expression. “It is a rare person who truly serves. You serve your people, the Galaxy… and lately you have done well to serve your friendship with Sannel.”
Friendship. Kaltar had never told Sannel directly that he was a friend. But, then again, he had mad no new friends since… Latal left. He had even lost some of his old friendships, letting them decay.
“As one of the Twelve who guide the Kaaltow, I try to serve my people. In turn, we all try to serve Sajuuk and good with our abilities,” Hilya continued.
“Do you plan on helping us in the war?” Kaltar asked.
Kaltar could at last distinguish emotions on Hilya’s face. Within it was…fear and despair, hopelessness. Something disturbing was hanging over her, troubling her. But why would they be on her face, when the Kaaltow could stand a chance of surviving – perhaps even See a way to achieve victory?
“That remains to be decided.”
Of course they will not interfere, Kaltar realized. They are going to run and try to escape the B’qula and leave us to fight.
Hilya seemed to sense Kaltar’s worries. “We have trouble Seeing the war ahead… we know that… there will be much death ahead. We even know a few specifics… but we… just can’t See the end of the war. It is very disturbing.”
At least they have a reason, he thought.
“In fact,” added Hilya, “It is more pleasant being around you than some others. My Visions are much clearer near you than they normally are.”
“They are?”
Hilya nodded. “We have found that…belief increases their power and clarity. And you believe in us – you even led Sannel here, based on that belief.”
“And what do you See?”
Hilya paused. “When I am with Sannel…I keep having a Vision of her past… and nothing else. The usual background of Visions is reduced to a few flashes…and one image. It is rather disturbing.”
She unconsciously moved closer, her face becoming tight in concentration. Kaltar felt nothing at first, but then the environment faded, secondary. An image came to his mind. It was more than an image, though – it was a complete experience.
He was in a darkened room with no decoration. The air was chilly and dry, the gravity feeling not quite right. In the center lay something that looked something like a seat…something like a bed…but really neither.
Kaltar heard muted, muffled sounds. He turned, finding a little girl dressed in silver on the floor, whimpering. Her face was buried in her hands; she shivered. And yet, for some reason, Kaltar thought she was humming.
He was at a loss for a moment, but then realized who he was looking at. Sannel, as she had been as a child.
Reality pulled back on him, and Kaltar once more felt the gusts of wind of the Shrine.
That could not possibly, possibly have been Sannel. It strained his imagination to picture her as the shy, sad child he had just seen. But he had no other explanation.
Hilya looked into the distance, suddenly. “…She cries in her sleep…If only…”
“What does it mean?”
Hilya turned towards him. “…It is hard to explain…But, around you, another Vision appears before me. One that we must talk about.”
Before Kaltar had a chance to react, he found himself once again being separated from reality. This time, a sense of dread filled him, and Kaltar tried to fight it. But Hilya pushed the Vision onto him.
Kaltar floated through smoke-filled corridors, flames occasionally tasting the air around them. The layout was familiar, and he moved through him as if by rote – this had been his home. The Telana.
He entered the bridge like a specter. He knew it was an appropriate self-image. He could not affect anything, only watch. He did not want to relive this.
A flash of red light bathed the bridge as the viewscreen lit with the glow of Zaala ion cannons, as they desperately pounded on the T-Mat fleet. Seeming to shrug it off, the T-Mat continued to proceed beyond them. They continued to leave him in this limbo.
The commander was speaking with a junior officer. Kaltar listened to him, wanting to take his eyes off that spot that throbbed in his mind.
“…I don’t care what they say. I want a medical team here now.” The junior officer ran off.
And then Kaltar heard those two other voices. He tried his best not to be distracted by them.
“Latal.”
“K-Kaltar.”
“Don’t try to-to-“
There was an odd silence. Still he looked away. But it pulled on him, forcing him to face what was happening.
He saw Latal nudging his face away. He knew that she was leaving – he could see it in her eyes. But now he could see his own expression, and right before him, it deformed into something he did not like. It was as if they joy and livelihood vanished in that moment, replaced by bitterness and an odd form of resignation. He had noticed the difference on some level before, but he did not realize how deep it was, how quickly it had happened.
A few minutes passed. The light of the battle died, the T-Mat moving out of range. Kaltar kneeled, unmoving over Latal.
“I’m sorry,” the commander said.
But it meant nothing to him. Nothing truly meant anything to him anymore. Latal was gone. His only joy – after months and years of building a future for them – how dare the T-Mat? Who did they think they were?
And as Kaltar shifted back into the Kaaltow Shrine, that anger was still there. As was Hilya. “That…” began Kaltar darkly, “…You should not have done that to me.”
“But isn’t that the problem?” Hilya asked. “Remember the way you were and look at the way you are now. You have not healed, have you?”
What do you know of healing? “I still remember my duty to the clan, the race, the whole galaxy. I have moved on, as much as I dare.“
“But there are greater duties…and you have not grown from the experience.”
Hilya dared talk about growth. Easy to say when she did not have the B’qula looming overhead, when she did not face death constantly. “There is nothing more I can learn from it. The T-Mat never cared to explain it to me. No one else seems to be offering me any lessons either.”
Hilya’s face grew more intent, angrier. “You are simply letting the wound consume you. You are too afraid to face it so you pretend you are fine. But you are not Kaltar. You must grow.” Kaltar knew she was beginning to lose control. But he was faring no better.
He could feel his muscles tense, his fists clenching. “I am afraid? I am not the one who is too busy looking mystical and mysterious to get involved in the war.”
“Stop this. Are you even listening to yourself. You act less like Kaltar ever since she left and more like a Latal-sized hole!”
“Just why are you arguing with me over this?”
“Because you – you have to learn to accept her loss.”
Acceptance? The notion was impossible, absurd, ludicrous. “Why?” he demanded.
“Because –“ Hilya stopped, forcing herself to slow down, to look away. Kaltar knew he would not like the answer. Kaltar did not like the way this conversation was going. He had assumed he would simply have a little talk about Sannel, a few pieces of advice…but the Kaaltow meddled. He had come here to heal Sannel, and instead he was being burned for it.
“Because – she – Latal…” Hilya closed her eyes. “It had to happen.”
Kaltar could not believe what he had just heard. He must have heard wrong. But he had not. How dare they- It was an affront to his very existence. How dare they- They were passing judgment on her, on him. How dare they- Kaltar cursed them under his breath.
His body twisted with rage. “Just who do you think you are-”
“Kaltar-“ She seemed saddened. But no amount of repentance could save her now. Kaltar could never forgive her.
“-You say – you say that and you dare think – think that you can…”
“Listen…”
He grabbed Hilya. “Why?” he screamed, shaking Hilya.
“-I don’t know!” Hilya answered. “It’s just a feeling – we can’t See why –“ The Kaaltow did not know what they were talking about. They were liars. Sannel had said her Visions were often just feelings. But she had never uttered such blasphemy. The Kaaltow were mixing lies and truth.
“-She did not deserve to die!”
“It isn’t about whether she deserved death-“
“-What gives you the right to – say…that…”
Hilya looked at him as if she was confused and did not understand his anger. The Vision. The Kaaltow thought it gave them the authority to do as they pleased to achieve what they thought was a better future, even if it mean sacrificing Latal.
“Do you think you have a right to manipulate the universe, the galaxy, for your own purposes?”
“No-“ Hilya’s voice was weaker.
“-Do you think you can make the rest of us fight this war for you?”
“-But we…we helped Sannel. We do care-“
“You care about Sannel.” Kaltar finally released Hilya, paced around restlessly. He was shaking. “The…ones Sannel called guardians care about Sannel. You think of her as a pawn.”
Now Hilya seemed angry. “The Guardians – they manipulate her, forced dreams on her, probed her. They…they-“
“-Are still there for her. If you cared for Sannel so much, then why didn’t you stop them? And why weren’t you there at Globular Cluster 079 to help us?”
Guilt flushed Hilya’s face. “There was nothing we could do-“
“-It doesn’t matter whether it would have helped or not. You should have been there. Instead, you only show up after the threat is gone. How can you say you care for Sannel? We had to rely on the Guardians to get out of that place.”
“The Guardians? They didn’t – they were as powerless as you-“
“-Then who did help us?”
“I don’t know. I-“
“How convenient.”
“Stop interrupting me!” Hilya snapped.
“You stop manipulating me!”
There was silence and the two stared at each other for a minute. Kaltar’s breathing was heavy, his heart pounding. His muscles remained clenched. His rage was beginning to subside. Beginning to.
“Kaltar,” Hilya began, closing her eyes. “I have done what I can Sannel. I have done what I can for you. But the others aren’t quite as patient. And the way I See the future now, what my Visions have been telling me…is that…you are a lost cause.”
“If you thought that, then why did you even bother?”
Hilya grabbed his arms and looked again at him. “Because for some reason, part of me still hopes. Part of me still believes. Without the knowledge of how it will all turn out, without my Visions…I have only hope and belief.”
How could she hope for him after all that she had said? Kaltar pushed her away; she stumbled a step backwards.
A red path appeared before him, leading around the mountain. Kaltar found it appropriate – it was the red of fire, the red of blood, the red of death. He assumed it led to Sannel and started on it.
Hilya spoke, her voice seeming weaker. “We often do not know the value of those we care about until they are lost.”
Still she taunted him. “You should have told me that four years ago, when it would have still mattered.” He continued, trying to move away from the source of his anger.
“Don’t do this…for everyone’s sake.”
Kaltar paid Hilya no heed.
“Tell Sannel that…I love her.”
But she did not care for Sannel. The Kaaltow did not care for her. Kaltar took another step, another. Yet, his curiosity was piqued; he had to turn around and find out what Hilya meant.
He turned around, finding – nothing. Hilya was gone. It was as if she had never been. As far as he could tell, Kaltar was alone.
Kaltar looked around, trying to regain his bearings. He was a little below the summit. At the summit, the twelve pillars stood, some glowing and flickering with colors. Ahead the path neared the summit, entered a mist.
Around him, clouds gathered, dark grey stratus and cumulus. The sun, still tinted a deep yellow from the sunrise, peeked out of the last band of light, near the horizon.
Kaltar moved quickly, one step falling after another after another. The mist enveloped him, shrouding the Shrine. In a few moments, he emerged, on a plateau below the summit. Clouds circled the summit. The path ended.
Kaltar looked around. At first, he saw no signs of Sannel. Then a small, puffy, white cloud approached, slowing before him, stopping. The top half seemed to fade away, revealing a shape inside.
Sannel.
She was smaller and frailer than he expected and her image suggested. Her head was bare, somehow making her face seem rounder and more vulnerable. She was sleeping; she was unnaturally serene. But overall, she looked much as he had grown accustomed to, much more familiar than he expected.
The cloud started dissolving, only the very bottom remaining. Sannel was now supported on a cushion of air. She opened her eyes slowly, saw Kaltar. “Kaltar,” she greeted. She seemed so pleased, so happy. That would make this only more difficult. And it would not last long.
The Kaaltow had manipulated her, presenting a false face of friendliness.
But he would not ruin her by letting his wrath come down on her. The Kaaltow were who he was angry with. He would not crush her. Not again.
“Sannel,” he answered, uneasy. He felt Latal watching over him, remembered the game a few days ago, an entire life ago. “I see even in real life you float.”
Sannel smiled, filled with silent laughter. This is getting painful, Kaltar thought.
She opened her closed hands, revealing a pin, an eye, perhaps five or six centimeters across. She stared at it for a moment; Kaltar felt as if it was staring at him. It was a gift to Sannel, a reminder of her Kaaltow heritage. And now it was yet another way for the Kaaltow to torture him. After examining it, she brought it on her silver and blue gown. It stayed there.
Kaltar had to leave. Now.
He reached down, helped her up. She seemed to linger. Of course, he realized. She probably has never been touched by…many. Never by me. And Kaltar – he had never touched Sannel either, not in all of the months among the stars. Yet he was disinterested, concerned with other things.
The cloud’s remnants dissipated, and a new red path appeared, this one heading down the mountain, not meandering, to where Kaltar guessed the docking bay was. The Kaaltow wanted him to leave, and he wanted to leave too. He grabbed Sannel’s hand, pulling her along the path. Sannel trailed him, seeming to stumble.
Down, down, Kaltar descended the mountain, Sannel following. The light darkened; he looked up and saw an overcast, threatening sky. Kaltar was not intimidated. He moved onward, the Shrine moving past him quickly, as if the Kaaltow were shortening the path, bending reality itself, to expel him.
In only a few minutes, they reached the base of the mountain. A constant, cold breeze brushed them; it reminded him of that before a storm. In the distance, thunder rumbled, dim flashes of light illuminating clouds. Sheets of rain obscured the horizon.
Sannel stopped, pulling him back weakly. She was out of breath, not used to walking long distances, Kaltar figured. Sannel cast her gaze around, trying to make sense of the vista around him. Then her gaze fixed on him, and without warning, Sannel hugged Kaltar.
It was a completely impulsive act. Sannel had not noticed or given thought to what Kaltar’s reaction would be. If only she knew- what a monster he had become. Seconds past, in which Kaltar did not know what to do, frozen with indecision. It had been years since his last embrace, and that had been with Latal. Her body felt colder than Latal’s, different, wrong, missing something. Finally, feeling Latal’s gaze, he shook himself out of it, moving his arms to hold Sannel.
Too late.
Sannel’s arms were going limp, her body rigid. She was not completely oblivious to his emotions – she knew something was wrong. Sannel’s arms dropped to her sides. Kaltar did not release her for a moment, but he knew it was futile. Another failure on his part.
Sannel turned away, dejected, horribly confused. She started moving ahead, back along the path. Kaltar was furious with himself. She had only wanted a hug. Was that so much to ask? Couldn’t he pretend for a moment he was fine, hold her, say a few comforting words? Would that really have been so hard?
A flash of light lit the surroundings, followed nearly immediately by a crack of thunder. Kaltar felt a cold tap on his face, another. It was raining, water blowing into his face. Sannel stood motionless in the frigid downpour. The Kaaltow cared nothing for her, were more interested in hurting him.
He moved in front of Sannel, trying to shield her. But it was simply another useless gesture; she was already wet, shivering violently.
They remained silent for the rest of the journey. There was only the path and the rain, the wind, the lightning, the cold nearby. It was time to go back. They soon reached the docking bay. Sannel cast one backwards glance at the Shrine. Kaltar tugged Sannel along, out of the rain, through a short, smooth-walled tunnel carved in rock.
At last, they came to a black, smooth surface. He did not recognize it at first, expecting to see the air lock of the Telana. A circular opening appeared, the wall of blackness seeming to dissolve. They entered.
The interior was grey, plain. The gravity was a little too low for him for a moment, but then he was pulled downwards. She had adjusted it for him. Kaltar recognized it from the Vision Hilya had shared with him – the interior of a Hiigaran ship, a sight few Zaala were privileged with. Kaltar took a look around, finding the cradle-like seat/bed in the center of the room. Sannel led him to it.
She lay down in it, closing her eyes, her breathing steadying. Her frown faded into a more peaceful expression. Her grip weakened; she let go of his hand.
This was the last time he would see Sannel like this. He lingered for a moment, then turned away. The wall opened again, revealing the Telana’s dock. Sannel must have docked her ship with it. He left through it.
The commander was there to greet him.
“Delegate, we were not-“
“Excuse me,” Kaltar said, passing him. He moved through the Telana’s halls, trying not be noticed. Into his room, he went, locking the door behind him.
It was one failure after another. He doubted Sannel could ever heal now. Only a few days ago…we were happy…
“Find your way and hers…before you are what you are and it becomes too late,” Latal had warned him in the dream.
But he could not change. He could never grow past her death. Certainly he could never accept it, believe it was right.
“Tell Sannel that I love her,” Hilya had said. But he had not told Sannel, out of spite. Now she would never know.
The utter horrendousness hit him. He had meant to do good, to heal Sannel. Instead he had destroyed her. How could he live with himself?
He had believed in the Elders, believing they would help him. But he could not imagining them guiding them to this.
Why? he demanded of them.
So often, he had tried to please Latal, wherever she was. He argued with the Kaaltow in her name. Yet, she would not have wanted that. Most certainly, she would not want his unstoppable rage, his overwhelming anger, his negligence for Sannel, his indifference to life. He was using her memory to justify such horrible things.
Kaltar lay down in his bed, and wept for Sannel, for Latal, for the entire universe.

dzurlord

17th Dec 01, 4:43 PM

Awesome chapter!:D

Btw small typo @ Kaltar enter the bridge

The previous sannel chapter I just found difficult to read.

cenpjas

26th Dec 01, 8:57 PM

I agree with the above,

in particular, WOW good stuff.

I am now dieing to read the next bit ;)

-cen

dzurlord

31st Dec 01, 9:10 PM

It's been 2 weeks:ninja:

cenpjas

2nd Jan 02, 8:50 PM

:angel: GIVE YOUR EVIL BOARDERS MORE :angel:

-cen

The Reflection

7th Jan 02, 9:08 PM

GIVE YOUR EVIL BOARDERS MORE
Well, if you're going to be evil, maybe I should be evil back by not posting updates... ;)

The previous sannel chapter I just found difficult to read.
I can understand that. There were several things in it that...will not be explained for it until later. For example, in chapter 15, we will learn more about just what that "Dream-Vision" Glaan and Hilya were talking about was.
Naggarok's Children really isn't designed to be a serial like this, where you read, over several months, small portions of it. Instead, in an ideal world, it would be like a novel, which you would read in a few hours to a few days. Then, at the end, you would be able to go back and reread it and make connections and say "Oh, so this was referring to that, and this explains that, and this here really meant this and that there is related to that." When NC is done and you can see it in all of its glory, it might make some more sense.
...And still there might be parts of it that you don't quite completely understand. That is fine; you're not going to be quizzed on it or anything. There is a lot going on in it, and some is meant to transcend any one person...understandably, a few sections might be hard to grasp.

It's been 2 weeks
Yes, it has been some time. But chapter 12 is a long chapter. Back in the old days of NC, after I posted chapter 1, there were about 5-6 weeks before I posted chapter 2. Some probably thought I had given up entirely. I calculated that I'm writing about 370 words a day now, compared with 90 back then. Starting with chapter 8, the actual number of words per day is probably the greatest since the first nine chapters of Outside, when they were being uploaded one per day - and keep in mind they were short, an average of 970 words (In other words, chapter 12 of NC is as long as chapters 1-9 of Outside). As far as the actual rate I'm writing, I'd say I'm doing fairly decent.

Thank you, anyway, dzurlord and cenpjas.

Speaking of which...
I know I have said this with every chapter since 9, but chapter 12 is the longest chapter yet (7790 words). I'm going to try to aim for 5,000 words for chapter 13, but you now how it goes...
Writing Naggarok's Children is really beginning to feel like some variant of Zeno's paradox...
Anyway, enjoy.

The Reflection

7th Jan 02, 9:10 PM

12
The Great Convening
“The Galactic Council as it is now is unlike anything of its scale ever seen before. There are disputes, power struggles, politics, and disagreements…there is always someone complaining about a decision made…and the Bound-Unbound distinction still persists. Yet, in the past centuries, it has become something greater than a loose peacekeeping force between the many races – it has become a cohesive entity that keeps the Galaxy from flying apart. There is a unity in it that is unprecedented, and yet each member remains unique…
…It can be hard to handle, but it still holds together. It is something that gives me pride – to think how far we have come since it was established.

Presiding Delegate Jeya
GSY 19486 (9976 AHL)

The Telana neared the Council station, Sannel’s ship trailing.
There was much more activity than Kaltar remembered when he left – a large fleet of ships surrounded the station. While traditionally each of the Unbound races always had at least one of their larger vessels guarding the station, now there were perhaps four or five times the normal number. Kaltar immediately noticed a T-Mat Mothership, a rare sight, one that still angered him. A dozen Hiigaran Carriers were arrayed in a sphere around the station. Bentusi Super Acolytes glided past the Telana, ahead were ships of some of the Bound races. Kaltar noticed the two Bitalq ships that had escaped K’Basal docked with the station; he wanted to find out more them later. And now the Telana would join the collection. No more searching through the stars for derelicts. No more hyperspace travel. No more of Sannel’s company, for what it was worth.
“Sannel,” Kaltar said.
She was “sleeping” again, as she had been since they returned from the Kaaltow. But she had not gone off on her own or cut the line of communication between them. There was still some residual companionship that Kaltar could not explain.
He let her be for the moment.
The Telana slipped into the dock, lurched to a stop. It was time to leave. The crew would help him bring back his belongings that he had brought aboard. But there was one thing he did not want to leave undone.
Kaltar had to say goodbye.
“Sannel. Sannel,” he called, trying to get her attention. She did not make a move to listen. She did not care. He could not blame her. “Can you hear me?” Not a word.
He considered for a moment.
“Wake up.”
She opened her eyes, not looking at him.
“Thank you,” Kaltar said. He struggled to find words that could atone for his ghastly sins. “I…When I first met you, I was unsure that I – could put up with you for a few minutes. I soon realized, though, that you were – missing something. I thought I would try to heal you.”
Sannel floated motionless, not looking at him.
“I was wrong – I should’ve been looking at my own demons, not yours. I have failed you. I am sorry, for all that you have endured.”
Kaltar paused to give himself a chance to reply. “Sannel, it has been almost four months. We have had our troubles and our good times. I hope – I hope that you do well. Find something worth – discover your answers. I want you to know that…you have been as good as a friend as I could hope to ask for.” He was astonished with what he had just said, but felt its truth.
“Goodbye, Sannel.” There was no point in staying. Kaltar took one last look at Sannel, trying to burn it into memory. He turned, began to leave the room.
“Kaltar,” she said, very softly.
He spun around to face Sannel. She was looking at him, her mouth open. The Kaaltow Eye brooch appeared to stare at him. She wanted to say something. But only silence came out. Sannel closed her mouth, bowed her head down. The image shimmered out of existence.
He stared at where she – her image, at least had been. Soon, though, he realized the futility of it. Kaltar stumbled out of the room, once again alone.

Already the months out in the stars were beginning to feel like a dream to Kaltar. Though he did not want to forget, he found it hard to resist paying attention to this existence in the Galactic Council.
The day’s meeting was already over, and delegates were discussing, negotiating, and dealing in the great hall that ringed the Council chamber. The hall was filled with frenetic and excited activity, everyone having something to do, some to ask for, something to share. Kaltar had never seen anything quite like it. It reminded him of a festival. But this was a festival of death.
Above him, a representation of the Galaxy silently spun. More than a third of the Galaxy fallen. The B’qula seemed to surround the Galaxy, taking much of the Outer Rim. The Inner worlds beginning to fall. Floating above one of the spiral arms was one tiny red point. Globular Cluster 079. A red dot was the final monument to all that he had done out in the stars.
He wandered through the hall, trying to get reacclimated to the other delegates and to get a sense of the war’s effects.
To his side was an image of a Taiidan, lecturing to a crowd on a recent battle with the B’qula emphasizing his points with holographic displays.
“…We sustained heavy losses in the Palner 63 system. The Taiidan fleet engaged 9 destroyers and 16 frigates, attaining a minor victory. The telemetry, shown above, shows that the B’qula fighters used swarming maneuvers on lighter capital ships, while enemy capital ships served as active defenses against Taiidan fighters, and to besiege our larger vessels – particularly with their gravitational weapons. However, of most interest are several tactics we used in destroying their vessels. Note that attacks at this point on B’qula frigates were accompanied by drastic fluctuations in the hyperspace inhibitor field, inertialess drives, and…”
Kaltar noted to himself to ask the Taiidan for their tactical knowledge, and moved on.
To his right, a Kalsa was pleading with a Chig’zigalda. “-We are in great danger! The Enemy has ambushed five of our Core-bound refugee transports. Only one ship managed to escape and it needs to leave hyperspace as soon as possible. Your homeworld is the closest system with the necessary facilities to-“
The Chig’zigalda was more skeptical. “While we sympathize with your plight, we do not want any ships to enter our home system. A small escort may be provided, for a small fee, so the ship can reach the next nearest star system, but we cannot allow you to jump near homeworld, especially if it will alert the B’qula to-“
Kaltar moved forward again, trying not to stay in one place too long.
Ahead and to his left were a Reln and an Athlu discussing with the image of Nulla, a Hiigaran delegate Kaltar had seen once or twice before.
The Athlu delegate was speaking, posing a scenario for Nulla. “…If the Tangent become heavily involved in this war, they may introduce needed weapons and tactics, serving as-“
Nulla shook her head. “-The Tangent will not get involved and have already turned down several of our pleas. Even their more warlike factions are more concerned with saving their own-”
Not for the first time, Kaltar thought of Sannel. He took another short stried.
“-We can arrange additional protection for your homeworld,” a Turanic began, trying to lure a Thule into a deal. “If you can arrange the resources - if you have anything of value, we can arrange protection, give you information or technologies-“
Onward, Kaltar went.
“Ever since the loss of our homeworld, we have been working with the Hiigarans to develop exotic weapons…weapons we believe that, if given time to fully develop, could turn the tide in the war,” an I’ao said to a few onlookers. “Unfortunately, we do not have enough time to complete the needed research soon…but with advances in quagma creation and manipulation, we believe we will soon have the ability to-”
A shout erupted from just behind him. Kaltar found Delegate Eltho of the Ilfa in an enraged fit, shaking violently. “-No! They couldn’t have! They – they-“ he was shouting. Two other delegates tried to move in, but he pushed them away. “We can’t let them…they burned home. I must go back – I must help stop-“
One of the other delegates whispered something to him. Eltho took a threatening step to the other delegate, another – then stopped, stumbling and collapsing into uncontrollable tears.
The noise in the hall had considerably hushed. Many stared at Eltho, including Kaltar himself. Mercifully, he was escorted out by the other two delegates. Following Eltho was the Ilfa attaché, Eschla, who seemed dazed, disconnected with reality, a vacant expression on her face. They both left, others clearing room for them.
“It is a shame,” began a K’nal’deg delegate who stood a few meters away. “Every day, there are so many more lost… and yet we do nothing. The B’qula are allowed to draw closer every moment.”
A few murmured assent. Kaltar did not feel well.
The K’nal’dwq had lost their homeworld months ago, and now they were reduced to refugees. They were one of the more outspoken races. Now, they must be burning for revenge. But unlike Kaltar, they had had no time to control their destructive impulses. The Galaxy was an inferno.
“But what do you suggest we do about it?” asked a Thern.
“Anything! Anything more than sitting here and watch them get closer!” Other delegates were drawing nearer. They too had lost much, or were afraid to lose.
Elders.
“For five months, the Unbound – including the Hiigarans – have waited. We have waited. The time for waiting should be over by now. We should strike back,” the K’nal’deq continued.
“I agree!” added the Kalsa that Kaltar had seen earlier. “My people are suffering and dying. The Hiigarans have said they would help…but where are they now? I am forced to beg for the survival of our refugees!”
Kaltar noticed Nulla watching the K’nal’deq’s rant out of the corner of her eye. At least someone knew that the rage had to be contained.
But the K’nal’deq did not know what it was like, and now everyone around him were themselves fighting their anger. With Kaltar, he would have been seen as mad had he taken revenge for Latal, but they-
Latal. The memory came to him, and he found himself drowning in sorrow. The T-Mat were murderers. The Kaaltow were liars.
And he had profaned Latal’s name and now Sannel’s for it. He pushed it all down, holding it in, crushing it with the force of his will.
“I hear stories like this all of the time. Yet what is being done about it? Nothing!” The K’nal’deq paced. “We must have justice!”
The sentiment was echoed by others.
“If the Hiigarans will not provide it, if they are too cowardly and too concerned with saving themselves, we will take it ourselves – we will-“ He paced faster, faster, unable to hold it in. “We can strike the B’qula, at the heart of their territory, in what is proclaimed ‘their’ space, above what used to be our homeworlds! We will not relent!”
Kaltar was sweating. Did they not see what was happening to them? They were all blind.
“We may die, but we will go down fighting! That is better than dying, doing nothing – better than – what we have been doing. We will devote ourselves to making them pay at last for their atrocities – and – and anyone standing in our way, even the Hiigarans, will be trampled. We will have justice!”
The memory, so new, feeling so ancient, came to him. Sannel, in agony, overwhelmed by the 079s’ words, her body shaking, her eyes tear-laden. “OUR DEATHS ARE IRRELEVANT. THEY WILL PAY WITH YOU. YOU WILL ALL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO US.”
Kaltar found himself pushing through the crowd. He must stop this.
“Delegate Kaltar,” said the K’nal’deq. “You must have something to add. Tell us – tell them, now.”
“You are wrong. So wrong that I cannot – can’t”
“-Delegate…your race…you support the Hiigarans, and so far, you have not been – attacked. You do not understand-“
“-I understand. Four years – four years ago, when the T-Mat attacked my ship and killed-“ The words had come, rushing out of him, but now he stopped unable to say it. “-I know what it feels like. I…have faced the inhabitants of Globular Cluster 079, whom you might have heard about recently, and they…they…were beyond help – they – were worse.”
“Delegate… I was always surprised that you – never followed up on the T-Mat’s tragic attack. But, we are not the inhabitants of Globular Cluster 079 either. You – are, if I may say so – distraught, so we have no animosity towards you, but…we need justice. We would rather have the same drive as the 079s than sit here and die.”
Neither the K’nal’deq nor Kaltar nor any of the other delegates saw it coming. Kaltar punched him in the face, his fist powered by adrenaline and rage and grief; the K’nal’deq stumbled backwards on the floor, a stream of blood running along his face, groaning. Kaltar was surprised and ashamed of how pleasant it felt.
“I…know what it feels like,” Kaltar repeated, darkly. The other delegates began to disperse, afraid of him, as they should be. Certainly, none would forget this soon. He was slipping, sinking further.
Nulla, who had been watching the confrontation, saw him looking at her, nodded, and averted her eyes.
Perhaps the Hiigarans would be thankful. Perhaps he had even done good. After all that had happened, though, he doubted it.

Takell uneasily approached Sannel, knowing this would be unlike any of their previous encounters. Before she had left, Sannel had been prideful and stubborn, sometimes moody, and Takell had some reservations about her ability to get along with other delegates, of her ability to appreciate what was at stake. Now, though, Delegate Kaltar of the Zaala had said she was useful… but changed. Takell knew it already – she hadn’t even acknowledged his presence.
He could hear her thoughts, as all Hiigarans did, as a soliloquy, but it was reduced to a whisper. Beyond the soliloquy was the “song” itself – which he experienced as the sight of an aura. Sannel’s was faint and pale, overshadowed by her ship’s, more like that of an unconscious being that a typical, active Hiigaran’s. It was as if Sannel had come back a gutted shell, a blank slate. He had felt this before, especially in a few of the war’s victims, but not as much as this.
Yet, what could he do about it? He was used to mediating, to planning matters of galactic importance, to dealing with the many. He had no skill for counseling. Those who did were busy with the victims of the war, and their suffering was great. In fact, even paying this much attention to her was unusual; he had many other things to do. Only at Delegate Kaltar’s request did he take a few moments to shift part of his mind to Sannel.
You have returned.
She remained quiet, lost in her own world.
You have done better than I expected. Takell had never been liberal with compliments with her, but this time it was true. Her soliloquy paused. She was listening. Still, she said nothing. Delegate Kaltar has vouched for you, saying that you performed well. It seems that you have made your first acquaintance.
He might as well be talking to an empty ship.
Her ship itself was shaken, but otherwise nearly normal. He contacted it, trying to use that channel to her. Takell, should not even be spending this much time, but he would not abandon her for the sake of convenience. He projected a small part of his mind over, immersing himself in the ship’s aura.
Ship, tell me what happened to Sannel.
The ship’s voice echoed to him, quieter than normal, as if trying not to be heard by Sannel. Ships generally were sensitive about betraying their masters. Takell’s own ship echoed its concern, but then began reassuring it in wordless sentiments.
She has been like this since we returned from Globular Cluster 079, especially after the Kaaltow.
But why?
They tore into our minds…I continue because I wish to serve and to explore. She has no – less interest.
Do you think the responsibility of the Council and the War can bring her back?
No. She will only withdraw. The speed of the reply was disturbing. But if getting Sannel involved with the Council’s work wouldn’t help her, then Takell could really do nothing for her. He had seen countless tragedies in the past few months, a galaxy sagging onto its knees. He had doubts that anyone would survive, perhaps a few isolated pockets, a few groups that would manage to flee the burning galaxy. Takell, though feeling regret for Sannel, found it hard to remain engrossed in her condition when soon half the surviving galaxy would have it.
She will come back, Sannel’s ship spoke into the quiet. She always has before. It was trying to reassure him, but more importantly, Takell knew it was trying to reassure itself. It had never seen Sannel like this, and it was frightened. It was tragic, really – a ship abandoned in a time of war, telling itself that all would be well when all was dying, grieving for a master who lived a pale imitation of life. His own ship felt pity.
Yees, she will. Takell doubted his own words, but didn’t want to cause the ship any more pain than necessary.
Sannel’s ship withdrew, unable to bear the discussion any further.
An alert rang through Takell’s mind. Yet another world was burned, more lives gone, more collective pain for the Galaxy. Life was madness. He parted, adding, May you return to yourself soon. Then, even that piece of his attention was gone from her.

“…And we will arrange to send everything we have on our asteroidal escape ships. It is our wish to spread it to as many as we can,” the X’n concluded.
“The Zaala give their greatest thanks to your people,” Kaltar replied. “Your knowledge may save many of our people.”
“We wish to save as many as possible…that is the way to defeat the B’qula. We will assist in any respect to save lives,” the X’n said.
Kaltar was at a loss. “I admire your principles.” It was better than blind revenge, of course. He wondered how long the X’n would hold to them, before they too succumbed to themselves.
They parted.
It had been a week and already he was becoming acclimated to his job as a delegate. Already, Sannel – and the memories of Latal – were fading, burying themselves. Already he was beginning to think of the station as home. He was ashamed of himself.
He walked in the great hall, the activity diminished during the night. In the distance, he heard chanting, very rhythmic but not exactly musical.
Kaltar rushed ahead to investigate.
They were ahead, in a secluded area. They were dressed in white hooded tunics, their heads bowed, and their faces obscured. One stood apart, watching twelve others arranged in a semi-circle, holding an ivory-white staff with a blue-violet white orb on top.
The Bitalq, he presumed.
Kaltar was sure to watch from a distance, not sure if they wanted visitors. They did not seem to mind his presence, though. Kaltar listened to them, trying to learn more.
The air around him echoed with their chant.
“eq aq-alek aq-op-et-Dlak-ot-shek op-er-mfak
“eq aq-alek aq-op-et-Dlak-ot-shek op-er-um-Shimer
“eq aq-alek aq-op-et-Dlak-ot-shek op-er-um-Shimes
“eq aq-alek aq-op-et-Dlak-ot-shek op-er-Kimel
“eq aq-alek aq-op-et-Dlak-ot-shek op-er-mfak-ot-sal”
There was a pause, and the Bitalq quieted. No one spoke or moved. Then, Kaltar realized he had been noticed.
Yet, they didn’t try to expel him. Instead, the arm of the isolated, watching Bitalq swung slowly towards Kaltar. A hand, with gaunt skin of such a pale grey that it was nearly white, emerged from the white cloth.
“Come,” said the Bitalq in a deep, rich voice. Kaltar presumed he was their leader, and came closer. The leader lowered his arm when Kaltar was only a meter away.
From here, Kaltar still could not see their faces, which remained hidden in their white cowls. He could not tell what they were feeling, what they were thinking, whether they could be trusted or not. Around the Bitalq…was an aura of surrealness, a little like the dreamy environment of the Kaaltow Shrine – or the abyssal nightmare of Globular Cluster 079 – but actually resembling neither. It certainly did not seem evil…but it did not feel especially good either, and it did not make Kaltar comfortable.
The other Bitalq began again.
“eq aq-haket aq-op-et-Dlak-ot-shek op-er-um-Bital-ot-sal
“eq om aq-haket aq-op-et-Dlak-ot-shek-upet-op-um-Bkitaln op-er-um-mfak-et-sal
“eq aq-alek aq-op-et-Dlak-ot-shek op-er-Kimel
“eq of-um-hob om of-um-em-shob op-ep-aq-Luvek
“eq aq-alek aq-op-et-Dlak-ot-shek op-er-mfak-et-sal”
The blue-violet orb on the leader’s staff pulsed quietly, enhancing the unreality around Kaltar. The Bitalq finished, standing motionless. Kaltar presumed he should speak. “It is a beautiful language,” he began, unsure of what to say, and trying not to offend. “What was it?”
For a moment, all was silent.
“It is the ancient language we use for our prayers and rituals,” answered the leader. “That was a prayer for your galaxy and for the universe.”
“Thank you,” Kaltar continued, self-conscious. “On behalf of…everyone.”
The leader tilted his head ever so slightly. “It is a small matter. We concern ourselves with all life. Dlak sings to you as it sings to us as it sings to those who call themselves B’qula.”
“Dlak…sings?” he asked, unsure what they were talking about.
“…Hyperspace, in your terms. Many of your peoples do not listen yet, but some – especially those who bond with their vessels – do.”
That was odd. Sannel had never mentioned hyperspace “singing” during their frequent hyperspace travel. “That is interesting… for the past few months, I…knew a Hiigaran, and she never said anything of the sort.”
The leader did not answer that. After a pause that was awkward for Kaltar, he said, “We have been watching you for some time. We know something troubles you.”
Kaltar now did feel discomfort. “It is…nothing. Nothing that you should be concerned with.”
“We concern ourselves with all life,” the leader repeated in a way that gave Kaltar a chill.
“…Ever since the war began,” he found himself beginning,” I have been thinking about Latal – my wife, who…le- died a little more than four years ago. The T-Mat – one of the races who, as you say, have bonded with their ships – attacked our ship, and she… I told myself she is in the Realm of the Elders and I still do believe it, but it is…the T-Mat never apologized for what they did, and she is gone and…”
“So, you are like this because you believe there is no justice?”
“No…It does not end there. The war itself – you must see what the other delegates are like. Everyone will be driven insane by it. No one else sees it. But even then… the Hiigaran I mentioned earlier…she…has her own problems. I tried to help her, but when she needed me, when we were in the midst of powerful, angry entities that were killing her – I could not help her. I tried to lead her to some people who could have healed her… but when I spoke with them, they kept telling me to – to accept Latal’s loss.” Even now, the thought infuriated Kaltar. “And so I was preoccupied, and I – wasn’t there for her, again.” He could say no further about this without reliving it, which he never wanted to do.
“You hate yourself for this… for leading this Hiigaran you mentioned to…whatever suffering she is in now. You hate yourself for your ineffectiveness in getting justice. And you hate yourself for losing your wife,” the Bitalq summarized.
He took a breath. “…Yes…”
“Most of all, you hate yourself for the rage within you, the anger at the universe for not unfolding as you would have liked it, and are ashamed for the vengeance you wish.”
Kaltar’s silence carried the answer.
“Rage is a common emotion, one that is natural when one loses someone, as you have. Yet it is not the answer – it is not satisfied by any revenge you can carry out. Violence is not the way. Only through control and through finding one’s purposes in life can one find true enlightenment,” the leader concluded.
Kaltar did not feel too comforted by it. “Perhaps…but it is not easy. And the grief is still there.”
“It is not easy. It is always difficult.”
“Yet, I look upon you and I see the respect for life I used to have…and you do not wish revenge…and still the B’qula burned your world, killing millions of your people… Didn’t you feel anger at what they did? Doesn’t it still hurt?”
“Revenge is not the answer,” the leader repeated. “Violence is not the way.”
You did not answer the question directly. “But do you ever feel…the urge to…”
Kaltar was made aware of the other Bitalq as they spoke in unison. “Revenge is not the answer. Violence is not the way.” The leader stared – at least, he appeared to be staring under his hood – into the distance.
“It is best if you heed our advice,” the leader finally added. “…For what it is worth, we forgive you.”
The memories came to Kaltar again, the memories of his failures.
“…Don’t try to-to-…“
“…We do not regret anything…”
…I never said goodbye…
“…YOU WILL DIE…”
“…Don’t do this…for everyone’s sake…”
Kaltar could not forgive himself. They could not forgive him. He was beyond that. Yet they did not condemn him, as he inwardly expected they would. He was beyond forgiveness… but perhaps not beyond hope.
“Maybe…” he replied.
“We will pray for you… If you would excuse us now, it would be greatly appreciated.”
“Thank you, then. Goodbye.”
“Farewell.”
Kaltar began to leave, and then he asked, “What is your name, by the way?”
“The name is sacred. We reveal ours to no one.”
He nodded, and started walking again.
Added the leader, “…Delegate Kaltar.”

Emptiness.
That is all Sannel saw, looking back on her life, looking into the Universe.
Emptiness.
She remembered her first being linked with her father’s ship, taking that first trip into hyperspace, finally getting her own ship, her first day at the Council, first meeting Kaltar. Then, running from the burning of K’Basal, first becoming Lost, meeting the Bentusi, facing the Guardians. The memories felt meaningless and hollow to her, almost as if they were those of another person. Only Globular Cluster 079 and the Kaaltow Shrine meant anything.
The 079s had hated her.
The Kaaltow.
Kaltar was so furious when she met him, awaking from that blissful sleep. She hadn’t noticed it at first, but in that embrace – she knew. She had failed to satisfy him. The Kaaltow were also angry, creating a storm to hurt them both. Perhaps they had argued over her. Or perhaps they were all angry with her. They even blamed themselves for her troubles. She shouldn’t have given them anything to argue about. She should have tried harder to resist the 079s, should have questioned Kaltar and Hilya less, should have held it all in, should have been less of a problem. If only she was better. It was all her fault.
Know that you have a friend in the Kaaltow, Hilya’s voice said, an echo in her mind. She had awoken on the Shrine with knowledge: some of it related to Visions, some things on the Kaaltow, the Guardians, Dreams, and ancient history of Kharak, the first Landfall on Hiigara, the Beast of Outside, even Tasiin himself. Along with it were a few words of advice, and one image, the…whatever she saw in that magical water at the Shrine.
She did not deserve this, she knew. She did not deserve a friend.
Her ship was about to say something, but didn’t.
Sannel held herself, whimpering in the Cradle.
Say something. Speak to me, Ship finally pleaded.
I… She did not continue.
Please. You have been like this since we came back from the Shrine.
I can’t. You would not understand.
I am a friend.
I don’t deserve a friend, Sannel said at last.
Her ship began to cry, and she began to too. She did not understand what was happening to her, or why. She only knew there was pain and emptiness. Sannel wanted it to go away, go away forever.
Do not do this to yourself, a familiar voice resonated from around her. She was at a loss for a moment. Then the name came to her – Junan, a Guardian. She had nearly forgotten him.
I am doing nothing to myself.
I know what you are thinking about, even if you do not. Don’t. Don’t.
Sannel really did not know what Junan was speaking of, but even so, she could no more control what she thought than she could control anything in this chaotic universe. I can’t stop...it. I don’t want to. Her grip on herself tightened.
A sudden calm descended over her, her muscles relaxing, mind stilling. The peace was oceanic, encompassing…undeserved, wrong. She resisted, keeping herself above, pushing back the moderate effects of the Dream ship.
Stop, Sannel said.
You need it, Junan answered.
Stop.
I cannot simply watch you do this to yourself. Someone must help you. Someone must save you from yourself-
Get out of my mind, or- She stopped. Or- She couldn’t do anything against him. She could not stop Junan if she wanted do. She did not even want to do anything. Sannel let the sentence hang, folded inwards, huddled in her ship.
The calming effect subsided. I could-
Don’t.
Junan retreated somewhat. For some time, he was quiet, and Sannel got the impression he might be listening to someone else, perhaps the other Guardian she encountered. At last he said, At least let me calm your ship.
Ship. Sannel had barely even thought of it and its feelings since the Kaaltow Shrine. It had been neglected; Sannel could sense its fear and confusion at her state. It needed better than her.
She did not answer Junan, but she let him project part of himself to her ship. Sannel herself retreated, receding into her own thoughts. Yet, still she was attracted to the conversation between her ship and Junan, and found herself listening to it. Sannel remembered when she was young, when she would often listen to her parents conversing amongst themselves. It was not so much the words themselves she had been interested in as simply their voices. It had given her a warm feeling inside, a security knowing that someone was looking after her even when she wasn’t. Sannel basked in the reflected words.
Part of the conversation caught her attention.
…I wish she wasn’t like this, her ship said. I listen to her voice, feel her presence… and she is not there.
I have only known her for a few months, and she knew me…only since we returned from Globular Cluster 079. But I do know that she has a way of going into her own private universe when in pain. This war will not help her – only more pain can come of it. We must simply be there for her when we can, so when she does emerge, she will not immediately withdraw. Beyond that, it is Sannel’s decision alone.
…I think she misses Kaltar, the Bound one… her ship said.
Perhaps. Sannel knew it meant Yes, hoped it meant that. She hadn’t realized she had missed Kaltar, yet she now found it true. She had retreated so far she hadn’t felt grief. From my observations, I have found Kaltar to be…like a guide to Sannel. She doesn’t believe in many things, not even herself, but part of her longs for something to believe – something to live for. Yet she can’t bring herself to have any faith or belief, so she uses Kaltar as an excuse. Kaltar provides a balance she craves.
Sannel began to wonder – maybe…maybe…deep down inside, part of her did believe in the legends Kaltar kept trying to convince her of. It all did often sound appealing. In retrospect, she was fascinated with the tale of Tasiin and Datlai and the Defeat of Outside…
…But they had happened, they were true. The others, though – they were merely meant to comfort. After all, the Universe was filled with pain and suffering, down to even Kaltar himself; it was cold and arbitrary. Before something so much greater than herself, before the things described in his beloved tales, Sannel would be vulnerable – they could hurt her, make her Lost. She would not lose herself again. Better to ignore it, best to hide from it before it could reach her.
That may be, Ship considered. I believe she simply misses her father. Kaltar is her way to fill that gap.
Very observant of you, Junan answered. …Keep her safe. I will watch. Farewell.
Goodbye, her ship said, removing itself from the conversation. Junan bent his mind towards Sannel, finding her eavesdropping.
She was trembling, shivering. She did not feel comfortable around Junan anymore. For that matter, she was hesitant to approach her ship again. What else did they know about her?
I know you were listening. Yet, he didn’t seem angry. His mind coalesced around Sannel, and she felt as if she was being stared at. Sannel shrank inwards. I did not want to tell your ship.
I heard a few things, she answered evasively.
Tell me. Tell me what is doing this to you.
The magical day at the Shrine had ended. She had awoken, been torn away by Kaltar. She had not seen that he had been troubled. She had been blind, naïve, and foolish. Reality’s tentacles had snared her once again, and now there was no escape; there never would be. She wanted to sleep for a long time.
It is nothing you could help.
You should not be so sure.
Of course, Junan was a Guardian. Sannel had never seen the limits of their power, but believed them great. But a few vivid dreams would no more help her than a few precognitive images.
You cannot help me. No one can…perhaps myself. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I have already caused my ship and Kaltar and Hilya so much pain. Spare yourself.
Junan regarded her for a moment, and she expected him to argue. Perhaps he would again even try to force a Dream on her. But after a few moments, he withdrew a little. I am here if you need me.
I thought you, as a Guardian, are not a friend.
I am not. We are not.
Then what are we?
We are acquaintances who are concerned with each other’s welfare, finished Junan.
But isn’t that…There is no way to argue with you.
If you want to argue with a Guardian, I would suggest that you practice with others first. When you can successfully convince the T-Mat to become your personal servants, then you should tell me.
Sannel did not have the energy to laugh, but she did let out a pleased sigh.
I am watching.
I know.
With that, Junan conveyed a blank, emotionless acknowledgement and receded, fading into the distance like a mirage. Sannel lingered, savoring the solitude, then cautiously, hesitantly, approached her ship.
The two regarded each other for a moment, both apprehensive, both afraid of each other.
What is it? asked Ship.
I don’t want to talk about it, Sannel repeated emptily. She added, Maybe we should…go around. Have a ride. She herself really didn’t care if the ship remained in orbit around the station for all of eternity – the normal Unbound elation of gliding amongst the stars would do little to nothing for her. But at least her ship would enjoy moving again – it had always relished the opportunity to push forward. While a journey through hyperspace was out of the question – especially after the last time they had left without permission – it would provide slight relief for Ship.
Her ship broke orbit, and dived inwards to the great mass of ships and the station itself. Ship was relieved when she watched the ship pass by, relieved with the freedom. Slowly, they past Hiigaran Carriers arrayed in a sphere around the station; there lay a Frrern destroyer, scorched with battle marks; above a formation of Ilaouaouo fighters, ion trails glittering behind; closer to the station was the T-Mat Mothership, arms spread out like a threatening creature from the past, hard-to-identify processes churning within; in the distance, the Telana itself, docked with other Zaala ships, undergoing a refit.
The circling gave her some peace, a slight distraction. Kaltar had always seemed restless to her, and he had said that he would occasionally walk through the corridors of the Telana, late at night, to work off energy. It took no leap of the imagination to picture him pacing through the halls of the Council. She imagined herself pacing with him, a ghost following him with nowhere else to go.
She really did miss Kaltar.
But she didn’t deserve him.
Again and again, she tried to quiet her thoughts.
No way out. Except one, the 079s reminded.
She said nothing in reply.
The ship was saying something; she listened.
The nearest Bentusi Tradeship is signaling you.
Sannel blankly told it to open communications.
We listen to that which moves in the Void. We have not forgotten you, the Bentusi resonated.
Once, she dared to project over to their ship. They had overwhelmed her, and they were completely benign. They felt like giants to her, even though it was an illusion – there simply were very many of them, each devoting a fraction of their attention to her. And yet…she couldn’t help but think of the 079s, united in purpose, giants surrounding her, their thoughts so powerful that Sannel began thinking them, the words emerging from her lips. She clutched herself.
We sense your hesitation. However, we have heard of what you have done and what you have encountered. We are interested in what you know, as we are interested in all that transpires. We are willing to exchange your stories with something you wish. …We fear that our time is passing, and we wish to listen to all of the songs before they are ended.
Sannel did not want to deal with them, with anyone. But as she considered, she realized it would do no harm to send them some information about the Tik, the 079s, the Kaaltow to them. Already, Kaltar must have sent a report to the Zaala; Ship had automatically compiled a summary and sent it to Takell upon arriving at the station. It would be a small matter to send something similar.
Sannel took the summary and added to it the Bentusi might find interesting – surface scans of the Shrine and the surrounding ships, everything on the encounter with the Tik, whatever she could bear telling them about the 079s. Some knowledge she would betray to no one: that of the Guardians, what she had learned in the Kaaltow Shrine, what it felt like to be in Globular Cluster 079. That was hers alone. But she sent the remainder to the Bentusi. She had no additional use for it, no reason to keep it to herself.
Thank you. If you wish, we will provide you with something of interest to complete the trade.
Sannel did not want anything. She had no use for their resources or technologies, no want for their stories.
Is there something you desire? the Bentusi asked.
Nothing, she answered blankly, coldly, and directed her ship to move away. Ship was wary and concerned, but it obeyed.
We are in your debt. We wish to give you something in return, the Bentusi persisted.
I want nothing, Sannel repeated. Go away. Now. She felt an urge to jump to hyperspace, to flee this burning galaxy, and bury herself in the emptiness between galaxies.
…There is something we desire to give, the Bentusi began. Information came to her ship, old files on…something. We hope that you will accept it as a token of goodwill.
She made no acknowledgement.
Farewell. The channel mercifully closed, leaving only the files. She didn’t care about them. She could delete them now and be done with it. The thought appealed to her; Sannel could be rid of them. The command to the ship was forming in her mind. Yet, some part of her protested, and instead of erasing them, she found herself reading them.
They were about Outside, and Tasiin and Datlai, it’s defeaters. Sannel had often examined Hiigaran records on the incident, but she knew the Bentusi were involved and must know more. Now, finally, she could see at least some of what they knew. If only she cared.
She examined them cursorily, and began to reconstruct the incident in her mind. It had always seemed so defining, so heroic. But in her Dreams, Tasiin refused to help, refused to be venerated, cold, aloof, alone. Yet, as she examined closer and closer, drawing more and more interested, listening to the Bentusi speak with him, with Datlai, she saw something. Her Dreams, the Kaaltow knowledge, the Bentusi records fell into place. She, at last, understood and saw Tasiin as he was. He was not the hero, the savior, the power-wielding bold man she thought him to be. Tasiin never wanted to be one, never wanted any of it. Instead, he was someone thrust into the position, found himself with the nearly godlike powers he had had, used by external powers to defeat Outside. Just as she was meant to have her Visions, as she was manipulated by the Guardians to defeat the B’qula. She had always believed Tasiin selfish in her Dreams, but now, she saw how haunted he was, felt an echo of sadness in Tasiin she felt in herself.
Yes, the Voice whispered, seemingly pleased.
Tasiin had managed to do all he had done, despite the burden, despite the tiredness. Perhaps…maybe some good could still come from her. Her life was empty…but maybe she would find some meaningful act later. She did not really deserve Kaltar or Hilya or Junan or Ship, but she did, perhaps, deserve a chance to continue. She wasn’t ready to fade away into her private universe, she wasn’t ready to slip into eternal night. Not yet.
There was a glimmer of hope after all.

Kaltar exited the Council’s meeting for the day, filtering out with the other delegates. He knew they were afraid of him, as they unconsciously avoided him, staying clear of Kaltar. Word must have spread about his confrontation with the K’nal’deq delegate. They believed him unstable, he knew; besides, they did not want Kaltar to interfere with their own secret desires for revenge.
He found it hard to grasp that he, for once, was not the once wanting vengeance.
Kaltar walked alone, a comfortable ring of space around him, through the great hall, towards his room. If word had spread quickly enough, he could be reprimanded. He might be forced to speak of Latal, and that he did not want to do.
Yet the Bitalq hadn’t condemned him, and Kaltar knew he wasn’t beyond all help.
As soon as Kaltar entered his room, his suspicions were confirmed. An image of Takell faded in before him, appearing wary and distracted. The war must be draining him of energy; yet, there was an energy in him, not really fueled by emotional fire, to continue for as long as possible. Kaltar admired him, even as he figured that the reprimand had arrived.
“Delegate Takell.”
“Delegate Kaltar. It has come to my attention that you have been…disturbed recently. For example, the incident with the K’nal’deq delegate, who has filed a formal complaint.”
“I overstepped my–“ begun Kaltar, the old, professional humility entering again into him.
“-It is not limited to that. The Bitalq have mentioned to us, although they did not reveal any details, that you came to them – troubled – and they spoke with you.” Kaltar was shocked that the Bitalq told. “Even in your body language and demeanor, it is apparent.”
Kaltar waited for the inevitable.
“We are already stretched thin, so a typical reprimand would not be practical, nor useful in your case. The normal avenues of counseling are already tied up. But we can’t let you wander through the halls of the Council like this until you get into a serious fight.”
Just how much doe he realize has happened out there? Kaltar wondered.
“Therefore, we are forced to rely on an unconventional solution.” His image receded, something appearing between them.
It definitely is an unconventional solution, Kaltar thought. But it was not a reprimand. It was Sannel. With a wan smile, and hungry eyes darkened by Shadow, the Kaaltow Eye pin staring at him… and, of course, she was floating.
“Sannel?” he asked, incredulous. He realized he had been grieving for her as Latal as if she had already died. Now, though, he was shaken out of it.
“Kaltar,” she said, as if she had missed him just as much.
He looked at Takell. “Why?”
“She asked for it, actually. I do not know what else to do with her… or with you.” Sadness entered his eyes, and a shadow passed over his face. “And because I noticed the B’qula are at the edge of Zaala space. Someone will need to relay information between us.”
The Hiigarans were powerless to stop them, he was saying. It was a matter of time – perhaps hours, perhaps days, perhaps a few weeks – but eventually the B’qula would reach the Zaala homeworld itself.
But, for the moment, he was glad to have Sannel back.
“Thank you,” he said, still unable to believe it.
“I must go. I wish your people good fortune in the coming weeks.” Takell faded out entirely.
He turned back to Sannel. “You…asked for me?”
She weakly nodded. “Do you wish for –“
“No…I don’t.” He wasn’t sure if he would be up to it again, if he was ready to try to help her without falling himself in the process. He would try, at least, to be a friend, though. This was the best news in a week, even if omens hung over the event, even as he knew neither himself nor Sannel were healed, only soothed.
Thank you for giving me another chance.

dzurlord

9th Jan 02, 10:19 PM

:D ;):jaw: :read: :nod: dang smiley limit =\

Xellos

10th Jan 02, 7:35 AM

I didn't even *know* there was a smiley limit. :argh: I *lost* a bloody reply last night to the damn thing. *low growl*

Anyway, excellent work, as always. I suppose with the inclusion of the Tangent I should write at least a short story about one of the more... memorable battles between these aliens from Beyond and the B'qula who hate them even more than the Hiigarans. ;) Of course, I also should be working on that final paper which was due three weeks ago (got an incomplete, but I just haven't been able to concentrate on writing since my grandmother died - I suppose being unable to write is a form of mourning. :rolleyes:

Brian, each chapter you post makes me wonder how people used to claim I was as good a writer as you (and really makes me laugh at those who claimed I was a "god" or some such... hell, they were *log* stories, not even proper stories with dialog and such! :umm:

BTW, as for that Smiley limit, could you change it so that the generic smiley : ) is not in that? I mean, many use that smiley to show they are not too serious about something... it kinda destroys the mood of the piece though I suppose I could start filling my posts (what posts? *grin*) with *grin* and *smile*...

Well, time to go back to lurking. Enjoy, all! :lurk:

Mr-e-Man

18th Jan 02, 8:16 PM

*grin*

Is that really Xellos? Yay! :D :D :D :D :D

*smile*

Ben Tusi

20th Jan 02, 7:59 PM

The Reflection, this work is simply a masterpiece, and, quite obviously, the damn best work of art that is on these forums. I salute you!

Xellos

20th Jan 02, 11:02 PM

*sniff* *sniff*
They don't love my Fleet Intelligence Personal Logs anymore!

Or is this just a sneaky way of trying to get me to post the revised logs on the forum boards so I can "compete" again? Hah! It won't work! It won't! I'm an evil sadistic bastard you see!!! Bwhahahahaha!!! :devil:

However, I must agree that NC is superb and definitely needs more people writing in and praising Brian for his superb work and the need for more frequent updates like they used to. ;) So I can write in and say "Take your time, Brian, and don't let these barbarians rush a work of art" :angel:

Good luck, Brian.

cenpjas

25th Jan 02, 9:33 AM

Well as snow turns to rain, I sit here in my office glad to of managed to fight for time to read this fine chapter above.

I would however like to suggest the only reason 'we' bugg you for more stuff is because its sooo good!

I my self feel guilty now because I know how much work is involved, so if I lose the plot and start beging for more! more ! more!, it should be taken as just a great big complement :)

-cen:)

The Reflection

15th Feb 02, 8:35 PM

Anyway, excellent work, as always. I suppose with the inclusion of the Tangent I should write at least a short story about one of the more... memorable battles between these aliens from Beyond and the B'qula who hate them even more than the Hiigarans.
True, but perhaps with the inclusion with the Kaaltow (two entire chapters of them, no less) you should write something about them, too - finish Cataclysm FIPL, perhaps. After all, we did talk about them, what, a year ago? ;)

The Reflection, this work is simply a masterpiece, and, quite obviously, the damn best work of art that is on these forums. I salute you!
Thank you, Ben Tusi!
Although the best parts have yet to come...

However, I must agree that NC is superb and definitely needs more people writing in and praising Brian for his superb work and the need for more frequent updates like they used to. So I can write in and say "Take your time, Brian, and don't let these barbarians rush a work of art"
Well, because the Relic Boards have collapsed three times during the writing of NC, the actual number of replies is probably more like 150-160. (Although the first 60, for some reason, were for the first chapter.) Besides, if posting was once at the rate at 60 replies/chapter, NC would have 840 replies already. At that rate, NC would sure enough consume the entire Fiction boards and cause it to be completely subject to my mercy! ;) Or not.
To be honest, after a certain point, I'm not sure how much encouragement it would add. The current rate of replies is enough for me.

I would however like to suggest the only reason 'we' bugg you for more stuff is because its sooo good!
I my self feel guilty now because I know how much work is involved, so if I lose the plot and start beging for more! more ! more!, it should be taken as just a great big complement
I know, and I am grateful for it. I wasn't trying to blame you for anything, I meant to explain why some things are hard to understand. I suppose since I know the big picture, I am tempted to assume that you know or can deduce more than is really possible. But I can understand that some of NC does not make sense. I merely am saying, Be patient and you will eventually get the answers.

Thank you, also, dzurlord.

I finally got around to finishing chapter 13 and typing it up. I'm sorry it is rather late. It's kind of a slow chapter for me, and besides, I've managed to be sick twice in the last five weeks. Chapter 13, I feel, is weaker than most of the ones preceding it. I probably might have had more character moments in it, but I realized that I had never really shown much of the B'qula - they've been more like a force of nature than anything, so that took up a lot, and I kind of wanted to move on...
At least, it should be sufficient entertainment for a while, though, and chapter 14 will not take as long - already I have started on it and it is looking to be very strong. So, enjoy it, if you will, and know that the chapters following it will be...interesting.

The Reflection

15th Feb 02, 8:39 PM

13
Kt’tik’kar
“The enemy of an enemy is not a friend, not a servant, nor a tool – it is a weapon, and as all weapons, may slay those who wield it.

Zaala proverb
Believed to have originated during Taiidan occupation

The seven B’qula Destroyers emerged from hyperspace above Tilnak 81 in a hexagonal wall of power. Frigate escorts clustered around each, Fighters streaming ahead.
The fleet ahead was, like the majority of fleets encountered, cruse and ineffective at repelling the B’qula. Only the hated destroyer Hiigarans and a few others could put up an effective resistance, and the B’qula knew they were huddling at the Galactic Core. That was sufficient – they themselves were gathering in preparation to eliminate them and Purify the world that once had been a cornerstone of the great domain they prepared. It had been the world of the Destroyer, the one who had murdered the greatest guardian and animating spirit of D’lact. How dare they… they did not understand the joys of hyperspace. They must be destroyed before they could destroy more. The B’qula had learned the name of the world they sought, a perversion of its name in their orderly, sacred language: Hiigara.
This world was one the B’qula had identified as Zaala – dedicated to supporting the Hiigarans. It must be Purified, rendered a blank slate. A small planetary colony lay below – while their ships would surely be able to destroy them on their own, they found that their descendants were susceptible to fear, and scouring a planet’s surface induced much fear. The Zaala must know it was time to face judgment. Out of a Destroyer, the device launched and propelled itself down into the planet, into the atmosphere, where it detonated, incinerating the surface, dark clouds stretching to blanket the world. As the planet suffocated under the onslaught, the B’qula fleet turned against the primitive vessels that guarded this shell of a world, now trapped by the hyperspace inhibitor field. It felt wrong to deny them the joys of D’lact in their last moments, but in aiding the Hiigarans, they had proved themselves unworthy.
Under the combined onslaught of the capital ships and fighters, each Zaala ship lasted perhaps a second of ion cannon fire, fighters and corvettes being vaporized by point-defense beams on the capital vessels. The Zaala fleet became a chain of starbursts, flashes of silvery-white light. Fighters swung into the distance, seeking out satellites and automatic weapon systems.
One last ship remained, a cruiser generating odd readings on sensors. The B’qula fleet focused fire, bathing it in the light of ion cannons. One second passed, two. Still the cruiser survived, starting to breach but still blazing away against them, damaging Fighters and a Frigate that other Zaala ships had softened. They would not suffer it, it was of little trouble. A Destroyer, already aimed at the cruiser, fired its main weapon. The cruiser stretched and squeezed from the gravitational waves, then broke apart. The Zaala fleet was defeated.
Sensors revealed the devastation below – the temperature soaring well above the boiling point of water, a radiation spike at the point of impact, a crater so deep it exposed portions of the mantle, seismic waves radiated outwards. There would be no survivors. Another great victory.
-There were anomalies several thousand k’loms out. They were not hyperspace signatures, though, not Zaala reinforcements nor the hated Hiigarans. Two of the Destroyers with six Frigates and a sphere of Fighters surrounding them glided out to investigate, shimmering in and out of sacred hyperspace with joyous inertialess drives. The anomalies disappeared, and only faint readings were received from the space around them. It could be a deception on the part of the Zaala, but the B’qula collectively doubted this was them. But if it was, they would be crushed as before, as so many others. But no, this was familiar, this was something they had felt before.
A shadow fell over one of the Destroyers sent out as giant sails outstretched against the disk of the sun, drawing itself near towards the B’qula vessel. A silvery ion cannon lashed out from the Destroyer, the Kt’tik’kar ship withering away like a mirage. But where there was one, there was more.
Tugging at the side of the Frigates and Destroyers in the investigating group, Tik vessels latched on, reeling themselves in. Fighters frantically fired at everything, anything, directed by the B’qula to shoot whatever passed for a Tik ship. But the Tik ships had no engines to give away their presence, their shells deflecting or absorbing most scans, appearing much like the background of stars. The first of the Tik ships started burning chemically into the hulls of the B’qula fleet.
The rest of the B’qula fleet swept outwards, intercepting their fallen comrades. Rather than give their enemies an advantage, rather than being consumed, the capital ships bombarded their siblings, keeping them from going derelict.
Yet there were more of the Tik, and they began descending on the rest. A web of ion cannons fired, but they evaded it like skillful insects that would not be caught. The Tik ships extruded their own web, threads they used to lock onto the B’qula.
One by one, the B’qula lost contact with their brethren, becoming alone, their ships drifting. Fighters crashed into them as a last resort, the few survivors self-destructing. The B’qula sensed when their ancient enemy boarded, hungry for revenge, hungry for their flesh. They were strong only as their ships, not in their mere bodies. They would not hear hyperspace again.
Sing for us, they pled at the last. Spare your servants, though we are not Pure enough, though we have not cleansed for you.
The Tik permanently shut down the last of their hyperdrives. The B’qula waited, their minds on the Quest, the end of which they would never see, D’lact, which they would never be joined with.
No, the B’qula protested. Let us be lost in you.
D’lact was silent at the last.

Latal’s hand was outstretched, beckoning.
There was only just a little more, just reach a little farther, the threshold nearly reached… He would at last be able to meet her again.
“Wake up, Kaltar.”
Kaltar awoke from the nightmare, breathing loudly, disoriented. He had been so close this time. “What – Lat – San – Where…what…” The silver and blue that caught his eye was a hint.
“Sannel…”
“Yes?” she asked, sounding innocent. Kaltar, agitated as he was, did not believe it for a moment, thought Sannel enjoyed doing that.
“Don’t – don’t wake me up like that. Ever. You shouldn’t – “
“I thought the news must warrant it,” she answered.
“No…no news can justify – only…only if the Greatest Elder is holding negotiations with everyone in the entire Universe in this room in five minutes and I am paid a very large sum of money for the inconvenience do I want you to wake me up…I trust that my meaning is clear.” He had been so close.
He got up, finding Sannel’s image. “So, what is this news?” he demanded.
“Our enemy has arrived at Tilnak 81, which was just burned. The B’qula have begun their assault on Zaala space.”
Kaltar released his breath and rested his forehead on a palm. A headache began building up in the front of his head. “Anything else?”
“Actually…yes. A few hours ago, a large Hiigaran fleet engaged the B’qula…”
“…Go on…”
Kaltar thought he heard the slightest of excitement in her voice, saw the slightest of smiles on her face. She opened her hands and an image of a Destroyer and three Frigates floated between them at eye level. “…They captured some.”

The image of twenty Hiigaran Carriers escorting a B’qula Frigate into dock with the station filled the Council chamber. There was a hush with the sight, as if the Frigate could come to life at any moment, as if it was, by its very existence, evil. Kaltar did not find it unnatural – after all, this was an avatar of their great enemy, a symbol of genocide on incomprehensible scales, something they had been conditioned to think of as hatred and death incarnate.
“This is one of the capital ships we captured. The other two are being escorted to the Central Worlds – to the Hiigaran system,” Takell began. “Security will be at a maximum.”
Of course, the Hiigarans would want to keep their prizes, and Kaltar couldn’t blame them. The effort need to capture these few B’qula ships must have been immense. Simply winning a battle would have been cause for celebration; capturing ships intact must be nearly divine.
The other Zaala would probably see it as further proof that the Hiigarans were some kind of holy protectors, likening it to their capture of Hiigara when the Zaala faced the Imperial Taiidan, to their slaying of the Devouring Beast of Outside, to the Defeat of Outside itself, to so many other feats over the centuries and millennia. Kaltar believed they, like everyone else, had their assigned purpose in existence, but he no longer believed them divine – just one race that happened to be in power and were now fighting for survival, like any of the others. They simply pulled off the most impressive feats.
“What about us?” asked a Bound delegate. A few murmured in assent. All wanted their share of B’qula technology.
“…We will reveal what we know of the B’qula and their strategies as we learn them,” Takell replied. “We have yet to understand their technology. When we do…we will be willing to share some of it.”
“Some?” the delegate asked, becoming infuriated.
“Would you rather have none?” Takell demanded. Something was bothering him, Kaltar knew. He wasn’t usually that confrontational, that bitter. The delegates quieted, unwilling to speak up. “When we get there, we will decide what to do and what to share. It will be more than none… enough so you can survive. Have you all forgotten that is the goal?”
Still, the delegates were silent, shamed by their greed.
“We will let you – in small groups, closely guarded – onto the Frigate so you may see for yourselves the vessel of the enemy. That should be sufficient to have your good will.” After a slight pause, he went on, “Meanwhile, we have been working on understanding and interpreting the information we have garnered from the ships. The B’qula did a thorough job deleting most of their files from their computers – as well as destroying most of their Fighters. However, we were…quicker than they expected in taking control of their ships – a certain technology related to the Ghost Ship derelict proved useful in that respect. Some of the other files were found on each ship – as if they wanted us to find them.
“Many of the records are in what we believe is the original B’qula tongue – the language of our ancestors. We have had a few samples of it before – on the Naggarok and its beacon pod, for example. The Bitalq have further helped us. We have been able to learn about parts of their ‘Quest’ and motivation. We will now share what we know.”
At last, they would get their first glimpse of the workings of their enemy, a face to assign to the vague death that had haunted them. Kaltar leaned forward slightly, focusing at the center of the room. Now he would know what he, his people, the Galaxy were facing – just in time for their arrival in Zaala space. But Kaltar had faced the T-Mat, the 079s, the Kaaltow, and worst of all, himself. He doubted the B’qula could be any more than another name on that short list of targets for his anger, another reason to be shamed that he could think such things.
If only Latal was the one here instead of me. She would know what to do. She would not be burdened every waking moment.
An image of the Galaxy and its satellites appeared, glowing in red, more distant galaxies white and grey in the background.
“We do know that after the B’qula conquered their own galaxy, and then ours, they expanded rapidly,” Takell began. The image began zooming outwards, the galaxy cluster coming into view, growing darker and being subsumed by the bright blood red used to represent the B’qula. Still, the representation distanced itself from the Galaxy, the B’qula an ever-enlarging sphere.
“As they expanded outwards, something happened – the inner galaxies lost contact with the B’qula fleets. Without a quest, they probably lost all purpose and spiraled into decay, as positive feedback cycles tore societies apart. We are the descendants of those societies.” The galaxies at the center of the red sphere now paled back into grey, while the B’qula continued expanding outwards. The result was a thick shell of B’qula space with a hollow center.
“Meanwhile the B’qula continued on their ‘Quest’. They probably thought the inner galaxies had transcended beyond them, seeing it as a good things, and so they continued. By the time Outside fell, their empire had reached 50 to 75 million light years in diameter, although contact with most of the interior galaxies had been lost.” At last, the display had finished journeying outwards, rotating the ovoid shell of galaxies, showing all the wound the B’qula had inflicted on the Universe. Red vectors began growing inwards, like tentacles of a cancer determined to strangle cells that remained healthy. “Over a time period of about a millennium after Outside’s fall, they launched fleets inwards to look for those who destroyed Outside and adversely affected hyperspace. Their fleets took a meandering course – they did not want any ‘Impure’ lurking in any of the inner galaxies. About a century ago, the first scouts arrived, and the fleets gathered… When the time was right, they launched their first attacks – which started the war.”
“If…as you say…the B’qula control a region tens of millions of light years in diameter,” asked a Pqar delegate, “They must be able to draw on the resources of thousands of galaxies, while we have only one with a handful of ships in another. How do you plan on stopping them from continuing their quest?”
They don’t, obviously, Kaltar replied mentally. They can’t.
“We…will do what we can,” Takell answered carefully.
Which is nothing.
“…There’s more. The B’qula have been thorough in their reconnaissance, either before or during the war. While we have not been able to transcribe everything…we are sure they know… where each and every homeworld or stronghold of all Galactic Council members are.”
The Council seemed to break into a pandemonium. Hundreds of voices cried out, in fear and anger, in desperation. At last the truth had been said. No one was safe.
“Silence!” ordered the T-Mat. While they had no control over the Council now, still the voice quieted all. And still it sent a chill up Kaltar, still it tickled the fire within. “We have long ago forgone the need for a stationary world. You have had the option to do so, and still you bind yourselves out of sentimentality. We must now all face our consequences. Do not waste our time protesting that which you could have changed but did not.”
“This is not the time for arguing,” Takell said gravely. “…But even that is not all. There was a message found on all of the ships, recorded in what we think is the original language.”
A malicious whisper filled the Council, disturbingly sounding like the T-Mat. “…Af-ush-O’mat af-ush-Tala’bkula-o’hel…a-of-ush-N’grak-Pral M’vak Qu’kal…N’gal aq-D’lact ush-or…”
“…We also found it in Bitalq…”
“…aq-alek aq-Dlak mvak – aq-alek Naqek mvak-
“…And then in many more languages, most identifiable, some not. This was in Galactic Standard,” Takell finished.
The whisper snapped into focus, speaking in a language familiar to them. If most had not understood the content before, it would become clear. At last Kaltar heard the voice of the enemy.
“You have no hope,” they said. That alone caused a deathly silence to fall on the Council. “None of you will escape. We will purify the Universe; D’lact will judge you. We will judge you, as the servants of D’lact. The Pure will live and reunite with us. The Impure will perish.
“The most Impure, those who call themselves Hiigarans, destroyed the highest level of D’lact and interfered with the rest of D’lact. They have sinned beyond redemption. They will die. Those who serve them aid in hurting D’lact. They are Impure and will die. Only those who shun the Hiigarans and join with us may have hope. If they are Pure enough, they will not die.” The B’qula had seemed to be in grief when they spoke of Outside’s fall, Kaltar noticed. But then it had turned to anger, and then finally into cold hatred, like that of a killer who had planned, who had murdered before. But, Kaltar reminded himself, That is who they are – galaxy-killers.
“D’lact sings to us, the Quest calls to us. Only those who heed the call will be spared. The rest of you will fall. There will be no hope and no mercy.” With that, the whisper quieted, the threat complete.
The grave silence continued. By being in the Council, they were all aiding the Hiigarans. “There will be no hope and no mercy,” they had said. They were all slated to die. Some started crying, others’ faces twisted in fury, still others overwhelmed. Kaltar had sensed Takell was haunted today and not up to his greatest, and now it made sense.
Some time passed, and an image of the Galaxy appeared once again in the center of the Council chamber. “…Thirty-nine percent of the Galaxy is now in their hands, although a significantly less proportion of the population has – fallen, from concerted and heroic efforts to evacuate in time. Strategic – ”
Kaltar had a message and he opened it. Before him, written in Zaala, it appeared – Go outside into the main hall; Delegate Sannel will be there. There is a possibility we must talk about. This is far more important that anything remaining in the meeting. Come at once – Delegate Takell.
Kaltar left as discreetly as possible.
Outside in the empty hall, Takell and Sannel appeared, waiting for him. “Delegate Takell…Sannel,” he greeted in turn.
“I called you out here because we think a possibility has revealed itself. This morning, one of your worlds was attacked.”
“Yes – Tilnak 81.”
“But we just got word from a Zaala fleet that scouted the area. You already have the message. The Zaala fleet found the world burned as well wreckage from Zaala ships. Yet they found B’qula wreckage – far too much. There was nothing valuable within – ”
“-Someone else destroyed the B’qula?” Kaltar asked.
Takell nodded. “While the group did not stay for long, they managed to stumble upon a third kind of ship.” The image appeared in front of Kaltar – a battered central lump, a dark skin-like hull that seemed to blend in with background stars, slightly glittering, and torn, but still identifiable sails.
The Kt’tik’kar.
“I believe you both have had some experience with them.”
“Yes – we encountered them…”
“We said from the start that we have been looking for allies, and the Kt’tik’kar are on that list. They have been eluding us so far, and are indifferent to us at best, openly hostile at worst. Yet they have no love for the enemy – we have suspected they are descended from a few survivors of the last B’qula war here.” The image shifted to that of the Galaxy, a band in it glowing gold. “Sightings of them have increased. We believe they are active in this region of the Galaxy – which includes much of Zaala space.”
“So – you wish to form an alliance with the Tik,” Kaltar concluded. “And you wish to do it in our space, which is why you called me out here.”
“Yes. We will provide a small fleet for this venture. You may provide your own ships if you wish. A Zaala representative would be convenient.”
Takell, of course, was implying him. But it would not matter if he asked or not – Kaltar wanted to be out there again, where he could try, at least, to do something. He had made an uneasy peace with himself; whether this would disturb it, Kaltar did not know. But he would go.
That left one matter. “What about Sannel-“
“I am coming along,” Sannel answered.
Before he could ask further, Takell went on. “I have sent an official request to your homeworld. If they agree, you will have two days before you depart.”
“I am sure we will agree. I look forwards to the opportunity.”
“Excellent. I will await for the decision, but I hope that some glimmer of light can come out of this day.” Takell’s image vanished.
Kaltar turned his attention to Sannel, who hovered quietly, not looking at him, as if she was a ghost. “You are coming with us?”
Sannel nodded. “…I believe it is because of how I helped the last time we met with the Tik.”
Her Visions had proven useful then, so Takell and the Council thought her Visions would be useful now. But Sannel was not comfortable with the subject, and neither was he. Not after meeting with the Kaaltow. The Visions shouldn’t be depended on. Besides, in the last week since she had come back, Kaltar could see something in Sannel’s eyes – she blamed herself for everything, a trait they shared. If she was going to be responsible for something, so should he.
“I am glad that I am coming along, then.”
“You could send someone else-“
“I won’t. This is for my people as much as yours. And as much for me as you.”
She did not answer for a while, but finally her face was turned towards him. “I know.”
Kaltar did not want this moment to pass, but he knew it must. “I will talk with my Elders about this. Then we can talk about this.”
Sannel nodded and then her image, too, vanished.
Kaltar rushed to his room and opened a channel to the Zaala homeworld.
“Delegate – we were not expecting you,” a tired, stressed Elder Zetal began.
“How is the war going?” Kaltar asked.
The sudden question apparently surprised the Elder but he made no attempt to complain. “Zaala research into the relics you helped investigate have proven immensely fruitful. This is especially true of the Shekelu derelict – apparently the T-Mat technology on it is rather flexible. We are upgrading as many ships as possible – with gains averaging at 50%, often exceeding that.”
Still the question remained unanswered.
“…The B’qula still are managing to advance on us. We are working as hard as possible to slow them down, but it’s not enough… It is becoming mayhem, and we are already trying to evacuate as many as possible…before...”
“I apologize for my earlier hastiness. I have just received a proposal that may turn the tide, and it may provide a diversion – a test, if you will – of our fleets.”

The B’qula ship was thousands of years old. Yet, it gleamed a brilliant white everywhere, as if it had been just been built. Inscribed letters, runes, glyphs, and several graphic designs glinted on all of the smooth surfaces, appearing as if they were being illuminated from behind.
The hallways that the Council had installed for the benefit of the Bound wound through the captured ship, leading wherever the Hiigarans had dismantled enough equipment to let people through, or wherever there was already a cavity in the ship.
“You will come,” said Hiigaran Delegate Nulla, who had been assigned the duty of guiding Kaltar’s group of six Bound delegates and three guards through this vessel. He followed in the rear, taking in this creation of the Galaxy’s sworn enemy. He imagined that as body language and mannerisms in speech let him peer into the mind of another, so this ship may say something about the B’qula.
He found the group was being led into a small room that was just big enough to hold them all comfortably. Two windows of some sort had been set into the makeshift walls.
One peered into a spherical cavity a few meters wide, with a perfectly formed silver sphere floating in the middle. There were no symbols on its surface – Kaltar knew they would not dare deface it like that. This was the motivation of the enemy – the hyperdrive.
It was the meaning behind all of the symbols, all of the gleaming surfaces, all of the war itself, Kaltar knew. Every last molecule here had been arranged so they could better smite their enemies. Kaltar imagined the walls being filled with curses, curses against him, against his people, against the Galaxy, against Sannel, against Latal, hatred reeking out of the walls and poisoning –
Gasps all around him startled him, and he gasped too, looking for what had jolted him out of his morose contemplation. In the second window, Kaltar saw something dressed in a loose white tunic, with pale, grey-white skin, a huge head with deep, dark eyes, an emaciated body, spindly appendages, hooked to life-support equipment.
It was a B’qula.
“When we removed them from the connection to their ships, we found they could not survive long. They apparently are dependent on their ships to live.”
“You mean –“ demanded a delegate, “-That we have been losing the war to these…things? They can’t even survive – “ The delegate seemed at once enraged and disgusted.
“It is unfortunately a matter of technology…” said Nulla.
Kaltar noticed a quiet whispering, a pressure on his mind that had been in the background before. He had felt the pressure before – with the 079s, Kaaltow, the Bitalq. This time, it felt as if reality was about to dissolve, a cold anger against the bulk of the Universe.’ “…Tala’Bkula…Tala’Bkula…” he heard.
“It says the same things over and over again. We have not received any useful information from them,” Nulla added. “We should go.”
The group turned back down the narrow corridor to leave, when Kaltar noticed someone else coming down the hall and into the room, the Bitalq leader followed by three more Bitalq, dressed as before in white, their cowls up, hiding their faces. They passed him, Kaltar unconsciously staying behind to listen. The Bitalq did not mind, and neither did Nulla. After exchanging glances, the guards let him be. Apparently they trusted him in the hands of the Bitalq.
“Tala’Bkula,” the B’qula whispered.
“of-um-oset-oh-Tbkital mfak,” the Bitalq leader said.
The B’qula’s head turned to the leader, fixing its dark gaze on him. A rough, hoarse whisper in what Kaltar knew to be the Bitalq prayer language emerged. “af-or-um-oqet af-et mrak af-um-ep-Higaran. or-um-ip-aqet et-mrak aq-ep-Naqek. af-or-um af-et-mrak aq-ep-Naqek!”
“or-um-aqet et-mfak aq-ep-Dlak, or-m-if-aqet-oh et-mfak ep-Bkitaln,” replied the leader.
“of-um-oset-Tbkital um-mrak,” whispered the B’qula. “af-um-or-uqukat-”
“as af-um-or-uqukat et-mrak!” His voice resounded down the hall of the B’qula ship. “as af-um-or-uqukat et-mrak ep-Qimel, um-ep-Shimes! as of-um-oset-Tbkital um-mrak. eq aq-alek-pel aq-et-Dlak af-um-mrak!”
The other Bitalq were looking at him. The leader turned back down the corridor, approaching Kaltar.
“What did they say?” Kaltar asked, knowing there had to have been some kind of disagreement – after all, the Bitalq were one of the earlier casualties of the war.
“It is…nothing of importance. They believe us all beyond redemption,” the leader’s grave voice came.
“It is a pity, I suppose,” Kaltar sighed.
“…Death is always tragic," the Bitalq replied after a pause. “We hear that you will be going into the stars to find an ally.”
“Yes.”
“If you encounter an old enemy, or make a new one – remember what we told you.” With that, the leader finished, waiting. Kaltar realized his group had left, and he ran down the hall, finding his group leaving through the airlock. Nulla said nothing of his absence. The guards escorted them out of the Frigate, took in the next group.
He was back in the great hall of the Council. There was still much work to be done for the trip the next day. Sannel shimmered into existence at his side.
“Did you go in it?” she asked.
“I did,” Kaltar replied. “It was like a monument – only this one to showing how fanatical they are.” He turned towards her. “And you – are you ready for your little appointment?”
They had been arranged to meet with a Turanic representative by the Hiigarans. Of all the races that had encountered the Tik, only the Turanics seemed to be left alone. Apparently, the Tik, who were known for feasting on their victims, found them not to their tastes.
“I do not know,” Sannel said.
“One thing to remember – the Turanics will do almost anything if the price is right. This can work for or against your advantage. Do not worry too much, though. Takell would not have let you speak for him unless he was sure of the outcome. This will give you some experience, nothing of concern.” Kaltar thought he felt Latal watching from the Realm of the Elders, and somehow, he thought she was proud. For once, he felt as if he was assuring Sannel, helping her. “Finally…stand up, please. I believe your floating is attracting some undue attention.”
With a regretful look, Sannel’s image shimmered, revealing her standing. “That was more natural.”
“Trust me, Sannel. To us Bound delegates, it is not.”
They walked through the Council hall, finding the image of the Turanic waiting in the periphery of the motion. “You are Delegate Kaltar of the Zaala and Delegate Sannel of the Hiigarans?” he asked.
“We are,” Sannel replied. The long gone resonance in her voice had returned in part. While Kaltar could tell she was nervous and uncomfortable, to someone else she must appear intent and commanding, more like when she first met him. The wound that he thought could not heal, that he had helped inflicted, were at last subsiding. “We have a proposal for you.”
“We know of this proposal of yours. You must know it will not work. The Tik make no alliances. Even we will not deal with them…for nothing.”
Kaltar knew the Turanics effectively had a monopoly in this area; they would try to get out of it whatever they could.
“Not even for survival?” he asked.
The Turanic’s attention was still focused on Sannel. “We are not altruists because we are not foolish. Tell us what we will get, and we will tell you what you will get.”
“We could give you money or resources…” began Sannel. “Though I would imagine it would be a vast amount… Besides, you certainly have quite a large amount of each. I am allowed to make a different offer.”
“Go on.”
“You will help us any time we need to deal with the Tik for the duration of the war.”
The Turanic agent found it ludicrous. “What can you offer us that could make it worth that?”
Sannel opened her palms and an image smoothly rose up in between them – a B’qula Fighter. “We caught about twenty of them, as well as the capital ships. We can spare one – and we can use a little help in understanding the technology.”
The Turanic was now very intrigued, as was Kaltar. “You will give us one?”
“If you help us.” Sannel was doing a rather good job with inflecting her voice in a way to make her sound as if she was in control. Besides, even without the full effect of resonance and the most commanding body language, the subject matter was enough to make Sannel seem more powerful.
“It is an interesting deal, very interesting.” The Turanic repeated, “Yes, this is interesting. You will get the help you need with the Tik.”
“You will meet a Zaala and Hiigaran fleet at Tilnak 43 in Zaala space. I have already made the arrangements with my Elders for your passage there,” Kaltar concluded.
“You may consider it done,” the Turanic said. “We are glad to have dealt with you Delegate Sannel…Delegate Kaltar.” He hesitated, then, indicating Sannel, he began, “You are new here.”
After an uncomfortable pause, she answered, “I am.”
“…It is merely…unusual that a Hiigaran and a Bound one be so…close…”
Kaltar wanted to laugh at what he was implying. But Sannel was overwhelmed, frozen.
It is time to step in, Latal whispered.
“I have had some travels with Delegate Sannel in the past months…” Kaltar started. “And in those months, I have found her to be much like…a favorite niece.” He said it with the intention of being a diversion, but found it had some meaning beyond that. He realized that was how he thought of Sannel.
“Yes,” added Sannel. “And he is much like an uncle to me.”
The Turanic looked at them for some time, obviously unsure what to make of this pair. At last he said, “The deal is complete. We look forwards to any such future needs you have of us. Good day to you both.” The Turanic’s image acknowledged them and left.
“You did well for your first time with the Turanics.”
“…You enjoyed that,” Sannel said.
His face broke into a smile. “So did you.”

“I feel…we should make our jump here,” Sannel said. She had been resting for most of the trip, saying the Kaaltow told her it helped Visions. Kaltar had not wanted to debate the point. Very quickly, though, he remembered how quickly his restlessness built up, how it felt to have little company besides himself. He had probably spent as much time walking back and forth between his quarters on the Telana as speaking with Sannel.
“Is it a Vision?” Kaltar asked.
“I think so.”
“Then we should jump.”
Kaltar prepared for the transition. There was a sensation of falling, a slight loss, something missing, as the blue threshold enveloped him. The Telana plummeted from trans-hyperspace back into normal space.
Kaltar surveyed the fleet – a collection of Hiigaran, Zaala, Turanic, and a few Taiidan vessels. Enough for a moderate battle. The Hiigarans and the Turanics had about two dozen capital vessels each, the Zaala a dozen. Unbeknownst to the other races though, Kaltar had arranged to have a carrier group waiting in hyperspace – the ships were all enhanced with T-Mat technology. Whether they would prove of use, Kaltar didn’t know. But the Telana itself had been upgraded with the technology, and simply the thin grey skin overlaid on it made it seem more menacing.
“They are here,” Sannel said. “Many of them.”
A sensor sweep of the space around the Telana appeared, and sure enough, in multiple vectors were the faint anomalies of Tik ships. Kaltar guessed they numbered a few dozen – enough to be of concern.
“Attention Kt’tik’kar vessels,” a Hiigaran delegate’s voice spoke. “We come in peace. You must be aware by now of the return of a great enemy – the B’qula – who have come to slay both of our peoples.”
The Tik said nothing.
“We propose an alliance – a peace. We will not attack you if you do not raid us. You cannot fight the B’qula alone, nor can we. You have no reason to be kind to them. It would be best for both of us if we both focused on the greater enemy.”
The Tik remained silent.
“We will not attack you if you do not attack us,” the delegate repeated. “We will leave if desired. Tell us what you desire.”
Silence.
There was a shift in the sensors, something moving. Then another. The anomalies were slowly arranging, converging on them. Kaltar knew what was happening – they were attacking.
“This is your final offer.”
There was no doubt now; the Tik swarms were making their way inwards.
“All ships, begin charging hyperspace modules!”
More anomalies appeared around the fleet – not quite hyperspace signatures, more like slipgates or wormholes. Tik reinforcements were flung out, leading the assault.
“Bridge, power up our weapons,” Kaltar ordered.
The holographic diagram now shimmered into a visual view of the fleet. For a moment, all was quiet. Then giant sails began covering a Zaala ship.
“Fleet, break in attack.”
Ion beams intermittently blazed out, searching for targets. Fighters raced outwards, scouting for Tik vessels, bursts of fire streaming from them. But Kaltar felt as if a swarm had descended on them, and the Tik were suddenly everywhere. On several ships, Tik vessels closed in, latching on.
“We should fire our weapons as well,” Sannel suggested.
“Where?” Kaltar asked. He only saw the Tik when they had locked onto their victims.
“Anywhere!” From Sannel’s ship, a weak blue beam emerged, firing at different angles, probing anomalies, seeing which were real, which not. Kaltar ordered the bridge to join their fire, although the Telana merely had a few mass drives and a very weak ion cannon.
A purplish flash lit up the Telana as a wall of Turanic ships fired at a Sailship, slashing a sail, vaporizing the core. Again, this time hurting nothing. A Tik vessel glided right before the Telana causing Kaltar’s heart to skip a beat. In the distance, a Zaala ship was encrusted, covered with Tik ships. The Kt’tik’kar must be boarding the ship right now, intent on slaying the crew in a ghastly ritual of feeding. Kaltar silently said a prayer for them, hoping his fellow Zaala could hold off the Tik on board. The Taiidan did not seem to be faring well either – one of their frigates spun as two sailships clamped on, one on each side. The Turanics and Hiigarans, at least, were holding their own. Blue beams radiated out of Hiigaran ships as if the fleet was blossoming, the Tik steering clear. But his own people’s fleet was in great danger.
A fiery orb shot out of the underside of a Hiigaran Cruiser, racing into the distance. The low-power siege cannon shot detonated. It should help thin the incoming swarms. Yet, really, it would do little – there must be hundreds of the Tik. The only hope was escape.
Sannel’s face rested against her knees as she held herself. The Council had received the Vision it had wanted. Her Vision had found the Tik. But obviously they had not been complete, obviously they had been untrustworthy. Kaltar cursed the Council for thinking they could simply use her as a convenient source of answers. He must stop this battle from degrading any further. He must call in the second Zaala fleet. He would not let the Tik consume his people, let them consume her hope of recovery, consume his.
“Bridge-“
“Delegate, hyperspace signatures at bearing 75° by -35°!” the commander exclaimed.
The fleet must have jumped of its own accord. Kaltar began to speak.
“Sir,” interrupted the commander. “They are B’qula”
The view shifted once more, now to dazzling grey hyperspace windows, rapidly receding along the lengths of the arriving ships. Kaltar was instantly dismayed and despaired. Eight Destroyers, sixteen Frigates, many Fighters. In the center lay a great behemoth, kilometers long: a Battleship. The activity must have drawn them here.
“Elders,” he breathed.
The ships moved at alarming speed towards them, silvery ion cannons blazing. B’qula Fighters leaped forwards into battle. Kaltar then saw the Battleship pivot around, aiming at something. A nearly blinding column of bent starlight radiated from its fore. The target was a Hiigaran Cruiser. The Cruiser violent stretched and squeezed, rippling with space-time distortion, cloaked in dazzling spectra. The Cruiser did not explode so much as be pulverized, shaken apart.
“The second Zaala fleet has been pulled out of hyperspace,” the commander added.
“Second?” asked Sannel. “Kaltar, you should not –“
“-I didn’t think the B’qula would show up.”
Apparently undaunted, a Zaala captain’s voice came over the com channel. “This is the Jetelu to the Council fleet. The hyperspace inhibitor field has cut off any escape route. If you take out the capital ships, though, we can help clear out the Fighters for you.”
“Agreed,” said a Hiigaran commander. “All Hiigaran ships, engage the B’qula capital ships.”
All around the battle, Tik Sailships began veering off in wide turns, towards the greater foe. On each of the Zaala and Taiidan vessels they had latched onto, they now flung themselves off, like insects hopping to a new host.
The B’qula seemed to focus attention on the Hiigarans, silver ion cannons raining down on the sleek ships. As Fighters circled the Hiigaran ships, fainter shafts of light streamed out of B’qula capital ships. Two, three Hiigaran starships exploded.
Three B’qula Frigates began writhing in space. Slowly they spun towards the Battleship, their ion beams arcing into them. The Hiigarans had adapted another derelict’s technology, Kaltar knew, the Ghost Ship, originally designed a million years before for the first war against the B’qula in this Galaxy, finally employed in this one. Despite being hammered by the fire of B’qula ships, the Battleship went on.
Zaala fighters attempted to chase B’qula Fighters, failing to match their speed. Yet the B’qula were distracted; as they attempted to rake Hiigaran ships with their lethal beams, Zaala ships beset them, destroying them one by one. Kaltar saw a Zaala ship take several hits from Fighters, yet still it managed to remain in battle. The soft grey glistening skins, adapted from T-Mat technology, protected the Zaala well, a few seconds against a B’qula capital ship – longer than most Bound ships. Bright flashes of red emanated from larger Zaala vessels, ion cannons enhanced by T-Mat power sources. One by one, the B’qula Fighters were picked off.
No wonder the T-Mat destroyed the Shekelu. Even that one ancient prototype contained enough T-Mat technology to harm even Unbound vessels.
The first of the Tik ships latched onto the B’qula Frigates and Destroyers, reeling themselves in. They began covering B’qula hulls, Tik burning their way in. The weapons fell dead in two, four, six capital ships, unable to destroy enough Sailships before they clamped on. At last, the B’qula realized their mistake, sending Fighters to close in on the Tik ships. As the Fighters turned, the Zaala fleet made a heroic effort, pounding on them, until in a great burst of light, the Fighters were destroyed. More Tik swarmed around Frigates and Destroyers, rendering more ineffective.
The Council fleet focused its full attention on the Battleship, ion cannons lashing into it in a starburst of red and blue and purple. A Hiigaran Cruiser, badly damaged, lobbed a weak siege cannon shot at it, the yellow-white orb careening into the hull, leaving a wound in the hull, the shockwave dissipating before it could harm any others. Like an animal caught in a change, the Battleship swung around, trying to injure whatever it could. The Telana added its fire, Sannel’s ship joining in, the entire fleet arrayed around it – and white light erupted from several points on the Battleship, the giant B’qula ship breaking into fragments in a great eruption of metal and plasma.
“We did it!” Kaltar could barely comprehend it. On Sannel’s face was one of the broadest grins since – ever, really. Kaltar wanted to hug Latal. But she was gone, the realization once again crashing down on him. At least, he wanted to hug Sannel, but she really was not here. Besides, he remembered the last time that had happened. He must do without.
That left the matter of the Kt’tik’kar. Many Sailships were still attached to the now-derelict B’qula capital ships. Yet there were still more, enough to attack the weakened Council fleet.
But as seconds passed, the did not attack. Instead, Tik Sailships detached from one of the Destroyers, left floating in space. Then space enfolded around the Tike and their captured prey. In silence, the entire swarm left.
The Destroyer, relatively intact, hung unthreateningly before the Council fleet.
“Salvage teams, prepare to capture the Destroyer. Watch for any traps,” a Hiigaran captain said.
“…Their way of sharing the feast,” Sannel said.
“…Perhaps we have made a new friend after all,” Kaltar added.

The feast was glorious.
They at last could have a share in the flesh of their ancient enemies, at last could participate in the great ritual. The Ancient Foe had been crushed in delicious revenge.
The Ancient Foes’ descendants had been tempting, of course. Yet they had managed to help vanquish the enemy, had helped give them this opportunity. They would be willing to do so again and again. They collectively had realized that it had been a waste to try to attack them – let them do some of the fighting. They would always be at the borders of the war, at the twilight, slowing the enemy down for the descendants, taking advantage of the descendants’ engagements to feed. As long as the descendants did not fall entirely, they would be safe.
Although some disagreed, the consensus was reached – they would leave the descendants alone and focus on the great foe. After the war…that was later. But for now, this symbiosis would suffice. The swarm could feel agreement from the other swarms.
There would be much work ahead. The Ancient Foe would come back, and they would be ready. This time there would be many victories. This time there would be many more feasts.

dzurlord

18th Feb 02, 5:50 PM

11 chapters+epilouge=5-6 months =[

I can wait though ;)

Great read as always:)

The Reflection

6th Mar 02, 9:47 PM

11 chapters+epilouge=5-6 months =[
Maybe not that long. I did set an absolute deadline of June 1st, and I can still hold to that. Even if I didn't, the end is at last starting to draw nearer. You will get there soon enough (compared to when I first started, with 5 weeks in between 3000 word chapters).

Chapter 14 is up. Like 8, it is the kind that turns NC on its head. This is the chapter that starts getting things moving. It has an absurd length of 10,056 words (about one-quarter the length of Outside, one-seventh the current length of NC).
But it is very much worth it. A lot happens in it.

The following chapters will be dark. There will be less and less happyness in them. So, be forewarned as Naggarok's Children begins its plunge into the abyss.

Here is chapter 14.

The Reflection

6th Mar 02, 9:49 PM

14
The Tyranny of Heaven
”I see you are praying again.”
“I see you are doubting again, kiith-sa.”
“…I don’t think I can ever manage to accept anything on faith alone, Datlai…perhaps there is an order to the universe, but I cannot see there being an intelligence behind it.”
“Why not? If you can accept some kind of Order, then why not Sajuuk?…Tasiin, you know what happened to you when – during then. Surely, you must admit to being a little tempted to think if it was designed.”
“…And let’s suppose, for a moment, that was true, that there was an intelligence…you aren’t angry that it made me leave you, the kiith, everyone for all that time? That I made you lose Dillat? Does that not matter to you?”
“…I would have thought you to be more intelligent than that.”
“But you still did not answer the question.”
“…No…I did not.”

Tasiin and Datlai Limandatt’sa

In the three weeks since the battle with the Tik and the B’qula, Kaltar and Sannel had become minor celebrities. People no longer tried to evade Kaltar, instead he occasionally listened to thanks and congratulations. It felt strange to have done real good, and his burden felt lightened. Kaltar had only two months before, hated himself after visited the Kaaltow, but that sometimes seemed like a different existence.
Still, his spirit was receding, and he could feel it. The Tik had stalled the enemy somewhat, the advanced Zaala fleets even scoring a few victories, the B’qula apparently content to focus their attention on the Taiidan and Hiigarans. But that would not last much longer, Kaltar knew. The Zaala’s days were numbered. At least the delay had given homeworld enough time to try and evacuate – with a mere 125 million, the task was easier than most races. And yet, it still seemed nearly impossible.
At least happiness was nice as long as it lasted.
Takell was once again addressing the Council, sharing some new information the Hiigarans had gleaned from the Destroyer the Kt’tik’kar had left as a “gift”.
“…The B’qula use an ultra-sophisticated encryption scheme on most of their files. We have not been able to interpret more than a few files, and most remain impossible to decrypt. It is unlikely we will be able to understand B’qula technology for – a long time.”
There was murmuring within the Council, grunts of dissatisfaction.
“What we have learned is that they are unlikely to give up voluntarily. Everything we’ve learned about them, everything made by them is tied to their quest. It appears that from birth to death, they are brainwashed into serving the war machine. Even their language,” added Takell disdainfully, “Is biased against those not B’qula – there are ‘Impure’ and ‘Pure’ variants of words, a level of address for us that transform sentences into vile curses…They are also unite in purpose, more so than most of us…”
“They have a hive mind?” asked one.
“No…we do not think so,” said Takell. “But they are so conditioned to following their quest – reinforced by their connections with other B’qula – that they really have no individuality. Those that we have no captured have shown no traces of developing distinct personalities, but choose to remain as willing agents of war. They have no dissent because they do not know how to dissent. They have enslaved themselves to their quest. …Even if they did want to stop, we doubt they could.”
It almost made Kaltar pity them. Almost.
“Do not be too tempted to feel sorry for them, though,” Takell continued. “As of now, 47% of the Galaxy is under B’qula control.”
That number almost made Kaltar shudder. They controlled nearly half the Galaxy, and soon they would have the majority. The war showed no sign of stopping. But it had to stop. It had to stop now.

“The war is coming close, Delegate,” Great Elder Kelak, leader of the Zaala people, warned. “We lost four systems today – Nelta 3691, Nelta 734, Kalfal 6, and the Benel system. The enemy has at last grown weary of our existence and is moving in for the kill.”
“I am sure you are doing everything you can.”
“We like to believe so,” said the Great Elder. For once, helplessness crept onto her face. “Stilly, they are nearing striking range of homeworld itself. While we have a large fleet stationed around homeworld and Jekalte, and while the Shekelu technology has proven helpful, once they strike…” Kelak did not need to finish the sentence.
“How is the evacuation going?”
“Reasonably…the people have been remarkably united and resolved in trying to save as many as possible. We have had six months, and we are transferring faster and faster. It is said a shuttle lifts off every few seconds. Already perhaps 75 million people are safe. The Arks have been sitting ready for centuries. They are a testament to our people’s will to survive. Now we will test them.”
The Arks were one of the few measures of the Council that had had any real success in the war. A couple of millennia ago, as the Hiigarans solidified their place in the Council, the Galaxy had realized the Naggarok launchers would soon enough return to pose a threat. It was decided then to prepare for them by constructing as many asteroidal starships as possible to carry populations to safety. The Hiigarans had compared it to the Kushan Mothership, but on a galactic scale. With over two millennia, the Zaala had had plenty of time to capture large asteroids by the dozens and transform them into second homes, even enough to sell some extras to other races with higher populations.
“They will go to the Central Worlds. They will be safe there. If anyone can stop the Enemy, the Hiigarans can.” A momentary triumph entered returned to her face.
“And if they cannot…and the Central Worlds fall,” Kaltar started. He knew the Hiigarans were not omnipotent. But if the Central Worlds fell, then all of the refugees would be exposed, and there would be a race outwards as the B’qula slaughtered them. Perhaps some pockets near the Galactic edge would hang on for a few months. After that, though, the entire Galaxy would fall. The globular clusters in the Galactic halo would perhaps serve as a useful shelter for a while, but after the experience with the 079s, the B’qula would not leave them alone for long. The only chance would be the other galaxies, but the Arks would eventually start breaking down, and even then, the B’qula would be giving chase. Only by going over 50 million light years, through and outside of the space contaminated by the enemy could they be safe. However, even the Hiigarans had never dared go beyond a few million light years, to the edge of the galaxy cluster. There was no hope any would survive that gauntlet.
“Then may the Elders guide us,” Kelak answered.
“We could…donate a few ships to the defense of Hiigara,” Kaltar suggested. Now, he could be secure that the leaders of the Zaala truly were concerned about the Hiigarans, as he was concerned about Sannel.
The Elder shook her head. “We are already stretched thin: half of the fleet around homeworld, and a quarter assigned to guard the Arks. We can’t spare much.”
“Only a few ships. The Hiigarans have done what they have could for us. We have often… been grateful for their services. Perhaps it would be best to return the favor. Two or three carrier groups, that’s all. Enough to stand with them.”
“…I will see what I can do.”
There was a moment of silence.
“…It is sad when I pass my own people on the streets and they…they need us so much, they are so lost…they can bear no more…and we can do nothing.”
“I…I have seen sorrow in the Council as well,” Kaltar added.
The Great Elder shook her head. “There’s no use dwelling on it. When I see you next, I will be on an Ark. In the meantime, do what you can, Delegate Kaltar. I once told you we needed heroes…it has only become more true.”
Kaltar did not think of himself as a hero. “I will try.”
“To the Zaala people,” the Great Elder concluded, weakly, half-heartedly, disturbed.
“To the Zaala people,” Kaltar repeated, hesitant, doubtful, at a loss.
The image closed, and Kaltar felt empty. There was nothing he could do. The B’qula would draw inexorably inward until they finally stormed into his home system, wipe out the Zaala fleet, burn homeworld, and then swing their attention towards other targets, perhaps even Hiigara itself.
But there is something I can do. I can try to understand what it is like for them. The Elders had, since the beginning of the war, mentioned people detaching, people unable to cope with the war. The ordinary, planet-bound Zaala must live with the slowly spreading insanity. But since the beginning of the war, he had been out in the stars, or at the station. He had cared for only Sannel’s problems, and his own – just two compared to 125 million.
“You may be lucky,” Elder Zetal had once told him – before he had met Sannel, even. “You are already among the stars, safe…” Even though it was months ago, even though it felt like it was directed at another person, it was still true.
He would leave the shelter, and walk among the victims of the inferno. His room was located in a section of the station that had been attacked. But not all section were so lucky. One section was composed almost exclusively of delegates whose worlds had been burned, of those who were the first victims of the war. Often, refugees stayed in that area. It was called the Hall of Sorrows, and most did what they could to avoid it. Kaltar would not avoid it.
He left his room, his hall, going across the Station, towards the Hall of Sorrows. Fewer and fewer passed him in the corridors. Kaltar was resolved to see what most did not want to see.
At last, he arrived at the hall. Written around the frame of the threshold in black was one sentence in Galactic Standard: Enter if you wish to behold the future, and learn that which we should never have known.
That applies to me, Kaltar thought. He entered.
The corridor had several beleaguered refugees, haunted delegates and attaches. Kaltar immediately wanted to look away, but he would not. He wanted to see the truth. He would make eye contact, and he would not turn away.
His pace was measured, slow, controlled. Each step seemed as inevitable as the passage of time itself. Kaltar would allow himself no reprieve.
The Hall of Sorrows looked as if it itself had been under attack. Small clusters of people lined the spacious hall. Cloth, food, a few simple amenities, all that was left of the refugees’ was worn, often tattered. Muffled crying filled the corridor. Kaltar carried himself along.
Each door he passed had a black slash across it – a symbol that had developed among the Bound Council delegates to designate a race who had lost to the B’qula. Kaltar recognized each – Kalsa, Sh’kel, Anu – forced himself to remember who each war. Painted on several doors were rows of black dots. Kaltar did not recognize the meaning at first. He had seen dozens before he realized the significance – each stood for someone close to the delegate, someone who had been lost. On some doors, Kaltar had seen a dozen such blackened circles, each like a hole in the Council station – an entire family lost, or all of the delegates close friends, perhaps. He had believed himself tortured for losing Latal, but those delegates – they must truly be tormented.
“I see someone has come,” came a raspy whisper. Kaltar looked down, seeing a careworn man, a Kalsa. “You do not belong here,” he warned, accusingly.
“Why not?” asked Kaltar, as soothingly, given his apprehension, as possible. “You are all siblings, in a way, a greater whole that encompasses my race.”
“Siblings…you do nothing. You want to soothe your own conscious. Go back to where you belong. Yu care nothing for us. No one else cares for us, why should you? Go home. Go home.”
Kaltar paused, then moved on. The Kalsa’s voice followed him, haunting him. He became incoherent, but he had conveyed his message.
Farther down, a Tcher delegate and attaché led a group of Tcher in prayer. They spoke quietly, in their own language, which Kaltar did not understand. Still he wished them luck, hoping the Elders would help them.
But most of the people he encountered simply watched him with wide eyes. They did not understand why this had happened to them. Kaltar could see that uncomprehending, agitated, horrified look on all of them, across so many races – the shared legacy of the B’qula. The B’qula, who probably couldn’t even understand such fears, who acted more like machines than these soulful individuals. It made Kaltar angry that the B’qula would want to kill them, these innocents. He understood why the K’nal’deq delegate had so deeply wanted revenge.
Labored breathing was coming from ahead, to his right. Kaltar could tell a few of the cries came from that direction. He rushed ahead, hoping he could save someone. There lay three people, a family, the parents with a son who was about to come of age. All three were wounded, their clothing bloodstained, the son in the worst condition, fading in and out of awareness. The parents fixed their eyes on him, begging him silently. He would not turn away. Kaltar approached, knelt down before the parents, who were slumped against the wall.
“Do you need help?”
They nodded. The mother added, “We were – put here…they did not check on us, no one will – he needs help. We can’t walk, as much as we’ve tried…Please…” She was breathless, unable to say more.
“I will get help.” He got up, searched for the nearest com interface, ran to it. He call up the medical emergency channel.
“What is the problem?” asked a Hiigaran.
“There are three refugees, one nearly dying, in need of medical attention,” Kaltar replied hurriedly.
“Where are you located?”
“In the Hall of – in hall 14, section 2.”
“We will be there as fast as possible.”
Kaltar returned to the three. “Do you understand me?” he asked the son.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“I have sent for help. Hold on for a little longer. Do not worry,” he reassured.
“Thank you,” said the father. “May the gods bless you.” Each put a hand on his face. Kaltar could tell that each had broken a few fingers from the limpness in them. He did not withdraw.
A minute passed, then two, then three. Still no doctors came. Kaltar was becoming impatient. The heavy breathing became more and more labored. Finally, the son said something in his native language. The parents replied, laying their hands on his.
Kaltar saw that look – he had seen it in Latal.
They were saying goodbyes.
Kaltar tried to say something, but was hushed. He felt sick inwardly. The doctors finally arrived, got the son onto a cot. But it was too late. He said a word, then let out that final breath.
His parents’ eyes were tear-filled. “Thank you for answering us,” the mother said. One of the attendants was watching over them as she spoke.
“I am sorry.” They, at least, would be saved. He walked away. Elders, this isn’t fair.
He continued walking. Why didn’t anyone help?
“There is no point,” said an Anu, as if answering him.
“What?” he demanded, shaking.
“There is no point…every hour someone dies here. We can’t save them all.”
“How can you say that? How can you watch someone’s life pass away before your very own eyes and –“ He forced himself to stop.
The Anu’s gaze drifted towards him. “How many deaths have you seen with your own eyes?”
Kaltar answered darkly. “That was the second.”
“Second…more than most. But witness many more, and you…you just cannot care. You want to help, but…death comes to us all. You just realize it, become numb, and…there is no point in trying to help…”
“I-I…” He felt like hurting someone. He walked away again, briskly. He passed more refugees, more doors with black dots painted on. Only when he reached a series of doors that were painted entirely black did he stop. Once again, he felt nauseous, although it took a few moments for recognition to set in.
Suicides.
Horrified, he went faster, as fast as possible, trying to get out of the Hall of Sorrows. His breathing was heavy. He saw more black dots, more black doors. They must be memorials to hundreds of people. He nearly ran out of the corridor, into the main hall of the Council itself.
It took a minute to catch his breath. During that time, a ring of white-clad figures approached: the Bitalq. Kaltar let them draw near; they were one of the few actually concerned about him.
“You have seen,” began the Bitalq leader, “The effects of this war.”
“Yes.”
“You understand the pain,” he continued.
“I do. I have seen another death…Elders, I – I - “
The Bitalq sensed he could not talk much longer. While his hood obscured his face, Kaltar felt as if the Leader was staring straight into his soul. After a pause, he carefully stated. “Let it be a lesson to you, Delegate Kaltar.” With that, the Bitalq dispersed.
Kaltar could not take any more. He was about to burst into tears. Kaltar ran to his room, other delegates looking after him, a few murmurs coming from aside him.
He burst into his room, and Kaltar looked for some relief. There, below his bed, he saw it – the white blanket from the Telana that had kept finding its way into his room. He did not need it, and still it followed him. The crew had been insistent that he keep it. Kaltar started unfolding it, and at last saw it.
In blue, a Zaala sentence was stitched on.
For Latal, on her first trip to this starship. Part of Zaala custom, to give a gift to first-time visitors. He had heard Latal talk about this, but had never really paid attention.
Kaltar pressed his face into the blanket, letting the tears flow, and he remembered.
Kaltar entered his room of the Telana, Latal sitting on the bed. The white blanket was folded on her lap. Latal rocked it back and forth, ever so slightly, as she spoke. “They gave me a thekan gift. “ She lifted it up a few inches.
“This is the diplomatic ship. Undoubtedly, you would not get one on a normal transport,” Kaltar said. “Just wait until we get to the Council – that is when the experience becomes truly impressive.”
She laughed. “And will I be treated like an even greater Elder there? You make it sound like I will rule the Galaxy.”
“I will see if it can be arranged,” Kaltar replied with a smile. “I have this feeling Delegate Takell wants a vacation soon.”
“Speaking of which-“
“-I am done for today, Latal. No more work for the Council.” They drew closer to each other. “You know how it can be.”
“Always trouble.”
“Always.”
Latal put the blanket to one side, wound an arm around him.
“I can see that I have spent just a little too much time on work.”
Little, Kaltar thought in retrospect. If only he had known what would come. If only he had spent a few more hours with her. If only he had been better.
They drew closer still, looking into each other’s eyes. There was an odd pause.
“That’s a lot to tell from one glimpse. Are you sure you cannot read minds also?” she finally asked, an old joke.
“’Reading faces is very useful in the Council, with the Bound at least. One can tell many things about intentions-‘”
“’Yes. I am glad we have people like you in case the others tried to disobey the mighty and terrible Zaala.’”
They both laughed, and then they kissed each other. Latal pulled away, asking, “And what do you see in my face?”
“I told you before – or are we trying to relive the day we met?”
“…This is different…it is my first trip to the Council, it has been three years…please, indulge me.”
Kaltar pretended to look deeply, probing and analyzing. “I see…a beautiful woman who is quite obviously happy, humorous, who is about to have a wonderful time at the Council station and who I am proud to call my wife.”
Latal smiled. “And I see a man who is quite obviously very happy…with a good life ahead of him, who is ready to meet any challenge, and who I am proud to call my husband.”
In retrospect, it was hard to believe that anyone could ever seen that in him, especially someone as close as Latal.
That was when the alert sounded.
“Hyperspace signatures detected, T-Mat ships emerging. Delegate Kaltar, please come to the bridge.”
“Of all the times to-“ Kaltar began.
“I could come with you,” Latal suggested.
He considered for a moment. “Are you sure-“
“I will be fine.”
What a fool he had been. Out of some romantic impulse, he had let her come with him, into her – her – leaving. He could not have known, of course. For all he had known, Latal would be as safe on the bridge as in his quarters. But still, if only she had stayed, or if the T-Mat had attacked a few minutes earlier, or if the Telana had stopped in some other star system – then she would still be here today.
Kaltar took her hand, and they walked together towards the bridge.
He knew what would happen next.
Kaltar could feel another person in the room, not Latal. He pulled the blanket away, and found Sannel looking at him, watching like a phantom. He wondered what he would say if she asked him to read her face. I see a saddened young woman who is unwilling to speak about anything she feels, who is one of the loneliest people I have ever met, and who I have twice hurt.
What Sannel would say about Kaltar, he did not know. Perhaps, he wondered, I see an angry, bitter man who hangs onto foolish beliefs, who tries to do good but never succeeds, and who I have twice.
“I saw some of what you saw,” Sannel said.
Kaltar nodded slowly.
“I thought you…”
“Just give me some time. I will be fine,” Kaltar lied. “…Have you ever thought about the timing of this?”
Sannel’s blank look of incomprehension was the answer.
“I mean, we have come all of this way, after a million years, from B’qula to a dark age and then we rose again to a galactic level – only to have the B’qula return and destroy it all in a year. Even in the twenty-two thousand years of the Council, we have gone from a loose collection of warring worlds to a nearly united Galaxy. Why not a few millennia before, when we still weren’t at peace, or a few millennia after, when we would have a chance? What’s the point?”
“None,” Sannel replied.
“What makes you say that? How do you know?”
“Because we all die. Because the Universe is rigged to kill us.”
After a discomforting contemplation, Kaltar said, “I am sorry you feel that way.”
Sannel sighed, as if she thought the conversation futile.
“I wonder what Great Elder Lakil would have made of this… Or, from your history, what your Kushan Mothership’s crew or your Somtaaw Beastslayers would have made of this.”
“They would be even more powerless to stop this.”
“Perhaps, but they all achieved the impossible,” Kaltar said. Even though Sannel was unmoved, Kaltar could steer the conversation into something more convincing. “What about Tasiin? He…the conflict over Outside lasted, what, a few months? And in that time, was he not able to meet the challenge?”
“This is not his war.” She seemed defensive.
“Of course not. But he did win his war. Didn’t he?”
Tasiin, Kaltar knew, was the one thing in whom Sannel believed, the one thing she had faith in. He knew better than to point it out bluntly, or to use it against her – otherwise, she would lose belief in even that. But an occasional reminder did not hurt, that there was some part of her that believed. Kaltar wanted Sannel to believe, and perhaps that could help her.
Yet, Kaltar was aware that even as he tried to do that, Sannel would try to plant seeds of doubt in his mind. He even wondered if she sometimes succeeded. He did often wonder how the Elders could fate the things he saw.
The games we still play on each other, Kaltar thought. Even after all of this time.
“It’s getting late. I will have to get up early tomorrow – and for the rest of the week. My people do not have much time…Good night, Sannel.”
“…Good night.”

It had been eight days when the Great Elder called Kaltar again.
“They’ve taken Jafelna and Jakilfu,” Great Elder Kelak said warily. “That means they are now within 10 light years of homeworld.”
“Elders…how many people have been evacuated?”
“Eighty-two million. More than the majority – but not fast enough. It’s never fast enough!” Kaltar though he saw tears in her eyes. The Great Elder, turned away, as did Kaltar, never seeing such a leader in such an undignified state. Eighty-two million. That left forty-three million still to go – just above one-third of the population. Kaltar had seen Latal die, had witnessed the death of a refugee. He tried to imagine them, again and again, trying to get some sense of the enormity of what was to happen. But he could not.
“They…will be remembered,” Kaltar said, trying to be assuring. Great Elder Kelak did not reply.
“How long?” he asked.
“A few hours. A day at most.”
“Then…we should…” Kaltar was at a loss.
“Part of me wishes that I wasn’t here on the Ark…that I could stay behind.”
How many times had he wished Latal had lived instead of him? It was the same feeling.
“It is a feeling with which I am familiar.”
Kelak paused. “I don’t have much time. But I wanted to thank you for all of your efforts. I know you have been through…much. Thank you for enduring it.”
“It is an honor to serve,” Kaltar replied. For the first time in months, the words meant something to him. The first time since, Globular Cluster 079, on the eve of one personal tragedy. Now they faced another.
“Remember – they can burn our homeworld, try to hunt us, but we will prevail. The Elders are with us.” She lingered, and then finally, she concluded, “To the Zaala people…More than ever, to us.”
“To the Zaala people,” he repeated.

The B’qula emerged from hyperspace in a tetrahedron encasing the Zaala homeworld, moon of the gas giant Jekalte. Eight Battleships on each vector, dozens of Destroyers and Frigates, gliding alongside in walls and spheres. Clouds of Fighters advanced. The fleet moved inwards, approaching the home of the Zaala.
Stationed around the great moon was one half of the Zaala fleet, arrayed in concentric spheres. The automated defense satellites activated, acquiring targets, still out of range. Twelve headshot asteroids had been prepared, and they now began to accelerate, preparing to ram targets. Several Arks were still unloaded, in low orbit. It was too late, though. B’qula hyperspace inhibitor fields surrounded the homeworld and Jekalte. There was no escape.
The first enemy fighters thrust themselves into battle, silvery ion cannons swinging through space as they began circling Zaala capital ships. Zaala fighters began pursuit, plasma bombs and projectiles and missiles fired into the Fighters. The B’qula drones were not damaged, though, and they continued hammering on the Zaala. Other Zaala ships began clustering, drawing together, meeting incoming Destroyers and Frigates. Red and grey flashed between the vessels, ion cannons lashing out, a web of fire blazing between the fleets. Claws of Zaala fighters descended on the B’qula ship, surrounding the nearer ones, pounding away.
The headshot asteroids, the first line of defense, continued accelerating, aimed at the great Battleships of the enemy. As they drove deeper and deeper into the B’qula fleets, though, the B’qula noticed the threat. Destroyers and Frigates broke off, taking aim at the gigantic weapons. Within moments, the pale, lethal fingers of gravitational weaponry emerged. Beset by the onslaught, most of the asteroids were shaken apart. A few maintained course, but Fighters easily matched their speed and rained ion cannon fire on them. One by one, the asteroids were vaporized, until only one had survived. The final asteroid slammed into a Battleship; the great vessel shuddered as its fore splintered apart. Still, the B’qula fleets pushed inwards.
Now, the Zaala defense satellites launched cruise missiles, armed with hydrogen bomb warheads, into the incoming vessels. The missiles slipped ahead, keeping pace with Zaala fighters. The B’qula capital ships targeted them with their ion cannons, silver beams vaporizing them in turn. A few dozen managed to make their way towards targets, detonating in great bursts of light and radiation. Frigates spun, twenty going derelict, with perhaps ten of the Destroyers also disabled.
Then came the mines, arrayed around homeworld, thousands of them. The mines homed in on the B’qula fleets as the Zaala defense fleet and defense satellites engaged in full battle. Some B’qula Fighters spared some time to engage the mines, easily destroying many. The surviving mines made contact with B’qula vessels of all sorts, miniature explosions erupting all around the planet. They did little, though, damaging a few Frigates, destroying a few Fighters.
The Zaala fleet had no choice but to fight directly, and they advanced, trying to do what they could. The upgraded ships lasted a few seconds each, protected by T-Mat technology, enough to do some minor damage. Most of the fleet, though, did not even have that. The B’qula almost could not seem to target fast enough. Zaala ships exploded, one after another after another.
Four more B’qula fleets emerged from hyperspace, each at the antipode of one of the original four fleets. They bore down on homeworld, exploiting the holes in the sphere of Zaala ships distracted engaging the first B’qula fleets. The eight fronts converged into low orbit around the homeworld, ignoring the remnants of the Zaala fleet. Several Fighters broke off to engage the Zaala defense satellites, as they futilely pounded on the B’qula fleets.
Out of one Battleship, a missile shot out, racing downwards. A Zaala corvette shot ahead, rushing into its path, ramming the missile. The bomb detonated in the exosphere, a great flash of light illuminating the hemisphere. Hard radiation radiated from the explosion.
Each Battleship fired a missile towards the Zaala homeworld, while the escorts set out destroying any ship that could near. Five managed to reach the planet, past the remaining Zaala ships. In great eruptions of light, all five detonated. Suffocating black clouds billowed outwards, shock waves circling the planet, the temperature soaring. Within a few seconds, the waves of destruction crisscrossed, interfering with one another, destroying all traces of complex life.
The Zaala homeworld had been defeated.
Desperately the surviving Zaala ships attacked, to no avail. Ion cannon fire and beams of gravitational waves vaporized Zaala starships, space stations, and satellites. The largest B’qula ships turned to the greater targets – the unloaded Arks. Again, missiles were launched by the Battleships. The missiles careened into the vast asteroid ships and detonated. Many cracked open, others burst apart. The few survivors were beset by the B’qula. They had no chance of reacting. They too were destroyed. The final Zaala ships, in final sacrificial desperation, slammed into the B’qula vessels.
The B’qula surveyed the area, finding no stragglers. Then, they slipped into hyperspace.
The Zaala had been defeated.

Sannel appeared before Kaltar, saddened. Kaltar looked up and saw the expression on her face. Between them floated an image of the Zaala homeworld and Jekalte, both overlaid with red, the symbol for a world taken by the B’qula. It had happened.
Forty-three million…
“I…I understand,” Kaltar said at last. “Contact Takell.”
Sannel looked at him for a long moment. Then, she obliged.
It was a pity that he was Bound and she was Unbound. He needed to be held by someone. And, Kaltar suspected, she needed to be as well. He felt an intense regret for being so cold to her on the Kaaltow Shrine. Now, as the end drew near, he could think of nothing else to do.

Kaltar had chosen to attend the Council meeting. That would be the best way to defy the B’qula, he knew. The Zaala were not extinct yet.
But it had surprised him how much the daily routine of the Galaxy had gone on, half of the delegates still oblivious to the pain that was to befall all of them.
Kaltar rested his head in his hands, unwilling to look out on the Council. “Forty-nine percent of the Galaxy has fallen,” Takell said. Kaltar tried to remember every Zaala he had ever known. Surely some of them were now gone. “…The homeworlds of the Faex…” Perhaps a third of those he knew from home – friends, member of his Bound, his family – were now with Latal. “…The A’la, the…” He had been so consumed with Latal that he had never said goodbye to them either. Now he would never have a chance, not in this existence. “…And the Zaala.”
Nothing changed in the Council when his race had been listed among the victims. No speech from him, nor condolences from Takell. There were far too many victims to do that,. Kaltar could easily have missed the one name.
The meeting uneasy, Takell uneasy, Kaltar depressed. His world had fallen, and soon Takell’s would as well. The war could not last much longer.
Kaltar realized the light had dimmed somewhat, and background voices had gone quiet. Takell must have something to present. It was now irrelevant, but Kaltar would watch.
“I have just been authorized to show this to you. This was broadcast from a straggling ship around the Taiidan planet Elkar 6C. It has one of the greatest Taiidan populations, living in orbit, on the surface, and below, reaching deep into the mantle. The B’qula attacked it yesterday.”
An image of B’qula vessels surrounding…something, something long, cylindrical, appearing translucent, holding something dark within. It was perhaps four to six times as long as a Battleship. It hovered stationary, not gliding like most of the Zaala ships. It was designed from some other purpose than starship-to-starship battle; its design had a few elements of B’qula ships, but this was different. It was aimed directly at the planet.
This must have been how they had destroyed the 079s’ planetoid.
In the background, the sparkling of exploding Taiidan ships died down as the battle was lost. A shimmering effect appeared within the translucence, the darkness within distorting. The effect reminded him of a B’qula ship firing its main gravitational weapon. The B’qula ships maintained their position around the monster, brilliance radiating from it. A pinpoint of light leapt outwards, almost too fast to follow.
The shot neared the planet, plunging in. For a few seconds, all was quiet. Then, the planet seemed to bubble, collapsing inwards. Blinding white light frothed out of the world, consuming the planet, filling the Council with the light. It took a minute before it died down slowly and faded out. There was nothing left where the planet once had been.
There was the deathly silence again in the Council.
“…We suspected they could do something like this for much time…we still are not sure how it works – perhaps something to do with quagma, our researchers tell us…but it is beyond us…probably their most advanced weapon, short of supernovae, and they take longer to set up…”
There was no point in discussing it further. Perhaps the B’qula only had a few, perhaps the Unbound could even destroy them. But how much destruction would the planet-destroyers wreak before then?
Perhaps it was better that Kaltar did not have to face them until today, after his world was gone.

Kaltar walked through the halls of the Council, Sannel hovering at his side. Some came up to offer condolences, a few other victims of the war offering words of sympathy, saying they too had survived. Few, though, offered meaningful help – all had larger problems now. The Bound could never effectively hold off the enemy; the Unbound could not do much against the larger and larger B’qula fleets.
The Bitalq leader approached Kaltar, white hood up as always, ivory-white staff in hand, but this time he was alone. Sannel was staring at him. The Bitalq, however, seemed to find it trivial – at least, from what Kaltar could judge without seeing his face.
“Delegate Kaltar…my condolences for the loss of your homeworld,” he said.
“Thank you. It…is a burden I will have to bear.”
“It is a burden we will all bear,” the Bitalq replied. Kaltar could feel the pressure in his mind, the surrealness of the Bitalq. He stared at the Bitalq as well, unable to decide what to say.
“I see.”
“Today is a different day than yesterday…very different,” the leader continued. “…You must know that.”
“I do.”
“…I must leave; I do not have much time to spare. Remember all that I have said, Delegate Kaltar. As always.” The Bitalq lingered for a moment, then glided onwards.
That was interesting, Kaltar thought. Sannel still seemed surprised, somehow. “You look as if you saw a spirit.”
Sannel’s eyes drifted away. “It is…nothing. Nothing. I-“ Her hand was touching the Eye the Kaaltow had given her – at least that was what her self-image depicted. She looked down, brought the hand away slowly, stared at it. Realization dawned on her face.
“…Kaltar…” she said.
That is when he realized. For the sake of the Elders, no.
“Do you mean-“ Kaltar began.
“Stop him,” Sannel said. “He’s going to – I have contacted Station security, but it will take a few minutes.”
“Where did he-“ He was not in the hall. The Bitalq had been going in the direction of the captured B’qula Frigate. What that meant, he was still unsure, but he knew it was not good.
“Go,” Sannel said.
Kaltar went, as fast as he could, towards the dock. The Frigate had no tours going through it, and should be strictly off-limits. But the guards did not stop him; Kaltar looked for them and found them slumped on the floor, burns on their bodies.
He continued inwards, winding down the installed corridors, all of the guards injured. He went faster. There was only one thing in his mind – stopping the Bitalq from doing…whatever it was he was about to do. The corridors, shiny white surfaces covered with writing, were like tunnels, tunnels to the heart of the ship, tunnels that led to his objective.
Kaltar neared the end of the corridors, seeing the central room, seeing white cloth. He stepped into the room that peered onto the hyperdrive; the prisoners had been moved elsewhere on the ship where they were more secure. The Bitalq leader, though, was there, waiting for him. “Delegate Kaltar…I have been expecting you, for some time…Your Hiigaran friend undoubtedly must have helped you here with her gifts.”
Sannel’s image shimmered into existence. “He somehow is interfering with all of the monitoring in the corridors.”
“And I noticed what you did to the guards.
Even though Kaltar could not see his face, he had the chilling notion the Bitalq was smiling icily.
“A precaution.” He turned towards Sannel. “I was rather entertained with your various holograms that tried to stop me. You would have me believe I was being chased by angry guards, that this room was on fire, and even that dark demons had come to haunt me.” His voice grew dark, laced with hate. “I am not a superstitious fool…Although I must still admit to being impressed with your creativity. Perhaps you should have become a magician. You are even floating…or are you supposed to be in free-fall?”
Sannel’s eyes were going blank and sad. She seemed uncomfortable, unwilling to answer. Kaltar could feel some of the pressure in his mind shift away. He hated the way this was going, hated the Bitalq.
“But you do not believe in magic…do you? No…nor in gods, nor in universal order, nor in souls, nor in Dlak. You do not believe in justice either, nor love, nor forgiveness, nor hope-” Sannel simply stated, transfixed.
“Leave her alone,” Kaltar said darkly, approaching him from behind.
“How lonely you must be. How desperate. You do not even believe in yourself.”
“I said, leave her alone!” He grabbed onto the Bitalq.
The Bitalq turned on him, jamming the staff on his neck, and Kaltar peered into his face. It felt like something out of a nightmare: a large nose, ghastly white skin, huge black eyes filled with malice that saw straight into his soul. Reality felt as if it was screaming, darkness radiating out of the Bitalq leader like a suffocating black cloud, like the B’qula, like the 079s. “Do not trifle with me, Delegate Kaltar!” his voice resounded, charging the air, filling his mind. “I am no servant to be ordered around, nor an equal to be manipulated.” The staff, pressed into his neck, sent a painful tingling sensation, like he was lying on a bed of needles. An electrical shock.
The Bitalq released him.
“Just…what do you want? And why?” Kaltar demanded.
The Bitalq leader really was smiling, coldly, pityingly.
“Are you planning to steal the ship? Or something else?”
The Bitalq laughed bitterly. “You have no understanding, a pity after what I have tried to teach you.”
“This is about K’Basal, isn’t it?”
“If you insist on discussing this…you were there…here. Perhaps it would be easier to understand if I showed it from our perspective.”
Before Kaltar could react, Kaltar was in the central room of the Frigate with the Bitalq, confronting the B’qula.
“Impure,” the B’qula cried, moaning.
“We are not Impure,” the leader said icily.
The B’qula fixed its eyes on them. “You serve the Hiigarans. You once served the Quest. You betrayed the Quest!”
“We serve Hyperspace, but we do not serve the B’qula.”
“You are Impure,” whispered the B’qula. “You are destroyers-”
“It is you who destroy!” shouted the leader. “You destroy the Universe! It is you who are Impure! May Hyperspace never sing to you!” The Bitalq stormed away.
“You…’betrayed’ them…” Kaltar began.
“The security forces will not come for some time. Do not think you can stall me long enough. I need only a few seconds.”
Kaltar waited. Time was still on his side.
“I have tried to educate you in my motivations. You can understand them. But, if I must I will explain.
“Your people lost star travel over a half million years ago. You found your own purposes and forgot about our ancestors. But we…we were devout. We did not forget. We stayed behind as what we were meant to be – a beacon and coordination center for them. We chose targets for the Quest.”
“You – you were allied with-“
“-We even still served a mere twelve and a half millennia ago. We Saw what need to be done. We knew in advance what was required.”
“You have Visions,” Kaltar said. With each passing moment, he grew angrier.
“As your Hiigaran friend does. They guide us and teach us that which we would not know otherwise… We knew which Galaxy had murdered what you called Outside. We knew which race and which homeworld. We passed that along. Now, the B’qula know the Hiigarans were responsible, and where Hiigara is.”
Kaltar cursed the Bitalq. If it wasn’t for them, these murderous Bitalq, the B’qula might not have found them, or overlooked them for a few more millennia. He wanted nothing more than to stop him.
“There were others. We were what you once were, hundreds of thousands of years ago. You – all of your races – continued the genocidal Quest in your own ways until perhaps 800,000 years ago. The Hiigarans were the galactic coordinators, the most powerful, and those who linked all of the civilizations into a central unit to serve the Quest. You were responsible for the deaths of countless billions, just as us. It is all tragic and ironic.”
Sannel did not want to listen to any more, Kaltar knew. But he must delay him, find out what he intended.
“And do you still serve them?” Kaltar demanded.
“That was the age in which I was taught, the oldest keeper of the Quest, thirteen millennia ago. But that is not the age we live in. Perhaps ten thousand years ago, something within the people changed. It was subtle, but the genocidal Quest was subsumed and turned into a new peaceful Quest. We rebelled against the tyranny of the B’qula and we gave ourselves a new purpose. We did not want to serve the B’qula anymore.”
“How revelatory,” Kaltar said dryly. Where was security?
“[I]We knew the consequences would be. We knew our homeworld would be destroyed. Yet we also wanted to be free.”
“So you refused to join the B’qula when they asked you to.”
The Bitalq seemed resentful. “It is a matter of more than that…if the B’qula were convinced by us to stop their Quest, then that was sufficient. But if they were not convinced, if they could still hope to secure our alliance, if they could still tempt us, then we could serve them once more. We had to eliminate any chance that we could serve them, both for them and us. We had to sin beyond redemption and be punished beyond forgiveness. We wanted them to burn K’Basal, and we did what we could to encourage them to burn K’Basal.”
Kaltar was aghast. No one would dare make up a lie like that. Did they realize what they had done? His people had lost 43 million out of 125 million, but of the Bitalq, only 12,000 of millions survived. The Bitalq, in their desire to be free, had committed mass suicide.
“What…what…what are you trying to do then? Have you gone on this ship, simply to tell me a story?” Kaltar asked.
The Bitalq leader’s voice was low, dark, hateful. “They decided it, but I never agreed. I did not want to see my home destroyed. I did not want to see all that we had done gone. They did not even try to fight. They did not even do anything to stop the B’qula. I am not content to let the B’qula escape unharmed.” The Bitalq was trembling with anger. This was about revenge.
“You said that revenge was not the way,” Kaltar said.
“I could not let the others have evidence that I wanted revenge. I suspect some had some Visions of what I am doing, but could dismiss them as unlikely possibilities. Beyond those words lay the real message.”
The Bitalq leader had made many references to the tragedy of the war, to the pain, to the death. “It is not easy. It is always difficult,” he had said about fighting the urges to revenge. Evidentially, he had found them impossible to resist. “They believe us all beyond redemption,” he had said about the B’qula. It was not something that one said to calm down Kaltar, but to anger Kaltar. He believed them beyond redemption as well. “Let it be a lesson to you, Delegate Kaltar,” he had said as Kaltar fled the Hall of Sorrows. The Bitalq was not talking about the horrors of war in general. He was talking about the horrors of the B’qula. He was hoping Kaltar would get angry with the B’qula with all of the pain they had inflicted. That was the true meaning of his conversations. That was what the Bitalq leader had wanted Kaltar to understand and remember.
“You…you never did answer my question about whether you wanted revenge or not, when I first met you.”
“I had hoped that would be enough to imply my real purpose. …You have lived with sorrow for much time, Delegate Kaltar. Most of the delegates with burned homeworlds want revenge now – but it is a narrowly focused revenge on the B’qula. They have not lived with the desire long enough to understand what it truly is. Perhaps it will prove fleeting when they must actually face the B’qula and not merely speak of them. But you – you have lived with sorrow for four years. You know what it feels like. You still secretly harbor those desires. Surely, you must understand some of what motivates me.”
Kaltar still was angry with the T-Mat, the 079s, the Kaaltow, the B’qula. But he must not focus on those desires. “The staff…it opens a hyperspace window.”
The Bitalq leader tried to calm himself, an action with which Kaltar was familiar. “It is nothing so crude…it coaxes Dlak and sings with it; it connects us with Dlak spiritually.”
“You – are going to use it to destroy the ship, aren’t you?” Kaltar accused. “A way to strike at the B’qula.”
“The explosion will be the signal for our two ships. They will leave here, leave this galaxy, and strike at their heart. I wanted you to be the one who understood why.”
The leader would have his revenge. Not only would it hurt the B’qula, the use of the Bitalq’s own ships – and those trapped aboard – would be a way to get back at the Bitalq for letting his home be burned. It made a frightening amount of sense.
“This is madness!” Kaltar shouted. “The Bitalq aboard will die. The explosion here will damage the Concil station, killing dozens. It will deprive the Hiigarans and the Council of B’qula technology. This is the most cowardly thing I have ever heard of.”
The Bitalq burned with anger. “For the innocents, it will be an act of mercy, rather than having them linger in pain and horror for months. As for cowardice – the B’qula do not care for honor or any such concepts you have invented. There is only death. You know what it is like to want revenge. You still want revenge for Latal. It does not come in convenient forms. When one sees the opportunity, one must take it.”
He continued, “How long have you wanted revenge for her? How far will you be willing to go for it?” Kaltar found the conversation uncomfortable to the extreme. “How many have interfered with it? Tell me, would you kill one T-Mat to get it? A few T-Mat? A whole ship? A whole fleet? All of the T-Mat? And if some ‘innocents’ stood in your way, would you be willing to kill them? Destroy their races? Burn the Galaxy? Destroy the Universe? If you could have her back, how many lives is that worth to you?” The Bitalq stared at him. “I know you have thought about it. Killing your Elders, your race, for standing in the way…”
“Kaltar,” Sannel pleaded.
“Killing the Kaaltow, the 079s, the B’qula…”
“Kaltar…”
“Would you kill your friend – Sannel, I believe – if you could get back Latal?”
Kaltar was frozen. He did not want to think about it. He did not want to answer.
“I will give you time to consider. And to you Sannel…I know you are afraid of hyperspace. You fear losing yourself. But…we know how to listen. We do not lose ourselves. I can teach you how to keep yourself – if you do not interfere.”
Sannel shrunk away.
“Is that not what you want? Would you rather live your life being afraid of becoming Lost?”
“I…”
“What is your decision?”
“Go away,” she whispered.
“Are you sure you can live with that decision?”
He was tempting Sannel, just as he had tempted him. Kaltar had enough. He rushed towards the Bitalq.
The Bitalq stopped him with the staff, and electric current flowed into his body from the glowing orb. “I thought you would understand. I was wrong. You can die like the rest.” Kaltar’s muscles spasmed, until the staff released him and he fell to the floor.
“And me?” Sannel asked. She seemed too eager.
“For you, death would be far too merciful. Because you knew. You did not stop them from destroying home. You had the chance and you did not even try. You can live tormented for the rest of your life.”
The Bitalq moved on, humming, the orb growing brilliant.
The T-Mat had been an inappropriate target. He had no means of stopping the 079s. The Kaaltow had never hurt him enough to pursue them. The B’qula were being fought, to no avail. Here, though, was a target, one he could strike. Kaltar was furious, with the T-Mat and the 079s and the Kaaltow and the B’qula and the Bitalq and the Universe for everything, all that he endured. The sorrow and anger overwhelmed him. Adrenaline surged through him. He would not let anyone murder any more.
Never again!
Kaltar lept up, grabbed onto the Bitalq. The Bitalq leader turned, trying to point the staff at him. Kaltar’s fingers seized his, prying them away, one by one, grabbing hold of the staff. Slowly, Kaltar turned the staff against the Bitalq. Consumed with hate, hatred of all that had happened, he bore no more. The staff did what he wanted it to do.
Electric current flowed into the Bitalq leader, and he spasmed violently, convulsing. The leader’s mouth opened in a silent scream, trying to get air. The seconds passed by, Kaltar’s rage directed at the Bitalq. Kaltar had to made sure the Bitalq could never harm anyone. A smell wafted through the air – the current was burning hi. Seconds more passed, until Kaltar was satisfied, rage subsiding. He pulled the staff away; the Bitalq crumpled to the ground, breathing raggedly.
The threat was gone.
He looked around, met Sannel’s gaze. She was staring at him, trembling, frightened. She was afraid of him. Kaltar looked at the Bitalq, realized what he had done. He let the staff fall from his hand, onto the floor, besides the Bitalq, the hard sound echoing.
The security had not come yet.
Kaltar was sick of himself. He deserved whatever was coming. A minute passed, then two.
Finally, guards came. They seemed uninterested in him, only the Bitalq.
“He is unarmed.”
“Did you apprehend him,” one asked Kaltar.
“Yes,” he replied gravely. They seemed content.
The Bitalq’s gaze fixed on him. Kaltar saw that look in his eyes. “aq af-of-um-otaluvek af-of-um-mfak-shekal.”
Kaltar didn’t know the language, but it wasn’t necessary. He knew the meaning.
[I]We are both damned.
The Bitalq leader let out the final breath. The third death Kaltar had witnessed. This time he had only himself to blame. Kaltar was horrified of himself.
Takell was behind him, talking with Sannel and one of the newly arrived guards. Kaltar turned to him. He hoped Takell would understand the truth. He didn’t mean to kill – but he had lost control of himself, and he had killed. Part of Kaltar wanted punishment.
“I saw some of what happened,” Takell said gravely. “Thank you for him.”
“I – I killed him!” Kaltar shouted.
“He left you no choice.”
“I could still have reasoned more.”
“-He was not reasoning with you. Our guards were ordered to do whatever necessary to protect the ship and the station.”
That was not the point. He had not killed the Bitalq to save lives or because he posed a threat to the Galaxy. Kaltar had wanted revenge. He had even enjoyed doing it.
“We will speak about this later,” Takell quieted him. “You did what was necessary. This is a war, and we often must do things we do not want to – or become things we do not want to. Go to the infirmary, and we can discuss this later.”
Kaltar did as he was told. But in his heart, he knew the truth. He had blamed the T-Mat, the 079s, the Kaaltow, the B’qula, and now the Bitalq leader for his suffering. But he now knew who the true monster was, the common thread. He was no different. He was the worst enemy of all.

The next day, Kaltar had been summoned before Takell to explain what had happened. Kaltar knew that Takell knew what had happened, yet he seemed interested in his account. Yet Kaltar didn’t think Takell understood what Kaltar had done and why, no matter how much he stressed it. In the end, Takell, while not pleased, was not too angry either. He seemed disappointed – with the Bitalq, with the Universe, with himself. But Kaltar received no significant punishment, nothing more than a vague, half-hearted warning, a few pieces of advice.
Kaltar roamed the halls of the Council afterwards trying to understand why. Why did the B’qula destroy worlds? Why did the Bitalq leader want revenge? Why did he want revenge? Why did the Greater Elders keep letting it happen? He still believed there was a plan, but what could possibly the motivation and purpose, what could possibly justify it, eluded him.
The Universe is rigged to kill us, Sannel had said. Kaltar began to wonder if that was the Elders’ purpose. He remembered what had happened in the last few days – the refugees, the Hall of Sorrows, the fall of his homeworld, the B’qula planet-destroyer, the Bitalq leader. Kaltar could imagine nothing worth all of it, no purpose. Only that there was a purpose at all was any comfort.
Someone was standing in front of Kaltar’s path – more Bitalq, who had selected a new leader, staff in hand. They waited for him to speak.
“I never did learn your previous leader’s name. I suspect you will never tell me.”
The Bitalq’s silence confirmed it.
“…Just out of curiosity, what is your name? Perhaps if I can assign a name to you I can be more comfortable.”
“We reveal our names to no one,” the new leader said.
“I figured that.”
“I am the sheklob of the Bitalq,” she added. “We may speak of our titles.”
“…Is there some reason you have come here?” Kaltar asked.
“Our apologies.”
Kaltar wanted to laugh. “Your apologies.”
“We did not know what he meant to do – only that he was troubled. We did not mean to put you in this difficult position. We wanted to help you.”
“I was nearly tempted,” Kaltar said.
“We know.”
“I killed him. Unnecessarily.”
“We know.”
“I enjoyed doing it,” admitted Kaltar.
“We know. And we forgive you.”
“How can you forgive me?” he demanded, incredulous.
“We have the souls of trillions on our conscious,” the new Bitalq leader, the sheklob said remorsefully. “We still found the way. As you can find the way.”
With each passing day, Kaltar saw less and less hope.
“We will pray for you. We will do what we can to help you, as you have tried to help. We forgive you.” The Bitalq’s pale grey hand touched his face, conveying not darkness and malice, only regret and cosmic sadness. The Bitalq moved on, chanting a prayer.
Kaltar was for a moment angry at the Greater Elders at all they had done. But he knew all that had happened was his fault. There was no point in trying to blame the order of the Universe for his violations of it. He could never be forgiven.
As he walked, other delegates came up to him. And one by one, they began congratulating him and thanking him. They were proud of his murder. Kaltar tried to go faster to avoid them.
“None of you understand!” he at last cried, then went to his room.
The others looked at him, confused and shocked. He had murdered. But for them it was a war. They did not understand what their desires for vengeance would do to them. They dispersed.
Kaltar had killed, but none of them understood at all.

Xellos

14th Mar 02, 4:53 PM

I *still* want to know why people claimed my stories are half as good as yours. Let alone in the same category. ;)

I suppose this was one of the sections that you were keeping secret from me? *grin* Hmm... when do we hear about the Tangent's little trick to wipe out one of the B'qula battlefleets? *evil smile* (Not that it helps *that* much...) I *have* to get working on that. *sigh* Oh, Tangents (tangents.keenspace.com) has been updated with a new site design. Looks very good now!

Anyway... just wanted to let you know I'm in awe at your storytelling skills. *smile* Keep up the fantastic work.

Rob

The Reflection

27th Mar 02, 4:30 PM

15
Song of Sannel
I do not understand what you see in that child.
She will be the one to face the Naggarok launchers.
You do not know that. We have others –
-All of whom you reject-
-The child is the worst of them all. Stubborn, confused, depressed –
She has more gifts than you know. She is looking for something, and I have done my best to find it for her. But I have failed…I think the war will cross paths with her search.
Her? The same child-
-Sannel.
You make it seem as if the fate of the Universe depends on it. You sound like a Kaaltow. Let me read from her file – ‘Resistant to authority; irrational fear of hyperspace; lack of direction in goals; lack of willingness to sacrifice…’ I could go on. And at the end: ‘Possible suicidal tendencies.’
Answer me one question: Why do you feel that you have to encourage those tendencies?

Guardians Selta and Nilsa
GSY 21958 (12448 AHL)

The Hiigaran fleets blazed with fire as the B’qula ships and the planet-destroyer neared. Ion beams converged on Frigates and Destroyers, occasional siege cannon fire aimed at Battleships and swarms of Fighters. B’qula Fighters cleared the way for the larger vessels, raining death as they swarmed the larger, sleek Hiigaran vessels. From multiple directions, gravitational weapons targeted the Hiigaran cruisers and carriers, which stretched apart into bursts of debris. Hiigaran ships tried to regroup, activating Ghost Ship technology; B’qula starships turned against their siblings. But as the B’qula fleet vaporized Hiigaran vessels, they regained their ships, adding to their firepower. The B’qula pushed through the Hiigaran defense, the planet-destroyer well defended. As Fighters and Frigates pursued the defending ships, the planet-destroyer activated.
Energy built up, concentrating, deforming space-time within. Gravity waves interacted inside, adding their power to the orb being constructed. Space collapsed unstoppably into the deep gravity well. With another burst of energy, the singularity leapt out, aimed at the planet, glowing with quantum radiation. The singularity ferociously plunged into the crust, a large explosion in the atmosphere rippling behind. Down, into the mantle, the outer core, the inner core. The tiny but powerful gravity well began attracting other particles, food on which to feed. Before it had a chance, though, it radiated away the last of its mass, evaporating in a flash of exotic particles. Some dissipated harmlessly, but other collided with atoms and molecules, interacting and converting into a state of matter not experienced since the creation of the universe, emitting new radiation. A runaway process occurred, consuming the planet’s core, the mantle, dissipating by the time it had reached the crust. It had served its function, however, and the planet dissolved in a flash of light. The plasma-like globe that remained of the planet, denser than an atomic nucleus, collapsed, still glowing, coalescing into a planet-mass black hole in a minute.
The B’qula fleet destroyed the last stragglers, most already damaged, some disabled by the great burst of radiation. Then, they set out for the next target. The B’qula had reached the Central Worlds.

There is no escape.
Sannel trembled, the thoughts of the 079s flooding her mind. Let me go.
You must die. You. Die.
What have I done wrong? Sannel plead. Let me go. She was trapped, here at the 079 planetoid, reality deformed into a well of blackness, spires stretching out menacingly, chasms sinking into the abyss.
You killed us. The Bitalq. You burden the Universe. You must be punished. We will have our vengeance. You.
Sannel wanted nothing more than an end. Please. End this.
Pain. Infinite pain is what you deserve.
She sobbed uncontrollably. I know.
You are the worst thing in the Universe.
I know.
Die. We will have our vengeance. They reached into her mind, destroying all defenses, all buriers. Pain surged through her body. Pain.
Stop-
No escape.
Let me die, Sannel cried. Let me die!
No escape, except one. You must do it.
I-
Inevitable. No escape. Sannel found herself saying it with them. No way out. Except one.
Sannel screamed, and the 079s planetoid melted away, replaced by the interior of her ship. Sannel forced herself to stop, holding herself. Ahead lay the Cradle. She must have, somehow, disconnected herself from the ship, coming against the wall, all in her sleep. Ship confirmed her suspicions. She did not know what it meant. She hugged her knees, burying her face in them.
Since coming back from Globular Cluster 079, Sannel had often had nightmares, disturbing Dreams about them. They had grown more painful and frequent in the past weeks, one occurring about once a day. Sannel knew this was wrong – Unbound Hiigarans generally did not sleep, much less have nightmares. What was wrong with her? Why didn’t the memories go away?
“How lonely you must be. How desperate. You do not even believe in yourself,” the Bitalq leader had said to her.
Sannel held herself.
The Bitalq sheklob had approached her after Kaltar – after he…did what he did. Sannel had not want to talk about…what happened. But the Bitalq spoke to her of the most haunting part, of the thing she could not have believed she had done.
“We know what you were offered. We are willing to help you. We can teach you how to never be Lost.”
It was everything she had wanted. But she had refused it when she had first been offered it. Sannel was shocked. There had to be a reason why she had refused. It must have been a trick. Sannel didn’t want it now, this tainted offer.
“How do I know…maybe you do not really know. Maybe you are already Lost,” she protested. That had to be it. Lost ones trying to add more to their kind.
“You must know that is not true. We ask nothing in return.”
“I don’t want it,” Sannel had found herself saying. “I don’t deserve it.”
“You should not blame yourself for what happened. You did what was necessary.”
“I let your home be destroyed! I let millions of your people die! I cannot deserve it.”
“You could not have saved K’Basal or any of our people-”
“Stop trying to comfort me!” Sannel snapped. “Leave me now. I don’t want to be Lost.”
The Bitalq had considered. After some time, she had bowed her head, sadly, leaving Sannel alone. Sannel had refused her dreams once again. She would not open herself.
Sannel shivered, the dry cold wrapping around her.
How lonely. How desperate.
Sannel looked at herself, with her Bound senses. Her arms were weak, her skin paled. The silver and blue gown hung on her rather uselessly. On the back of her head, wispy hair was beginning to grow. After visiting the Kaaltow, she had let it grow, assuming her self-image, not following some Unbound tradition. She remembered how she had looked as a child, how she looked now. In many ways, she had not changed. And she still didn’t want to be Lost. If only she could be comforted by a strange Vision now as she had been then.
Ship, she called.
Sannel, Ship answered. You…
I know. Give me some time to rest. How long was I…asleep?
Three hours. I tried to wake you, but you left me…
Do you believe…something has happened to me? she asked. She wanted someone to notice her. She wanted someone to hold her.
…I have noticed…something… Ship replied uneasily.
What?
I do not know. You never tell me. I have tried, but you don’t… Ship was uncomfortable. Sannel was ashamed that she interrogated it, that she expected it to solve all of her problems. She should bear her burden quietly.
But still, she felt the need to talk to someone.
Never mind. Sannel opened communications with the Council station, projecting part of herself over. Usually only a small part of her attention was focused on Kaltar, but now she found that was where her thoughts were centered, the ship like a phantom.
“Sannel. I – I was not expecting –“ Kaltar began. He had been up late this night, as he often did now. He seemed preoccupied. Of course. He blamed himself…for what happened. He thought he had killed. But Sannel wanted him to stop blaming himself, concerned about the way he thought of himself. It wasn’t his fault. It was all her fault. After all, she had let K’Basal be burned in the first place.
What should she say? Sannel searched through news, alerts, and messages. One blared in her mind. “The enemy has attacked Zalana 378 C, a Central World.” She conjured an updated map of the Galaxy, the B’qula encroaching near Hiigara, within 200 light-years. It was a start.
Kaltar sighed, turning away. “I suppose your people must be tested against the B’qula as well.” He, too, was uncomfortable. Sannel wished she would stop tormenting her few friends like this.
“There are Hiigaran fleets waiting for them,” Sannel halfheartedly tried to comfort.
But Kaltar was intent on dwelling on the implications. “…I will try to contact my Elders and have the Arks try to escape the Central Worlds. We will have to move on, I suppose…”
“Kaltar.”
“Yes?”
She could not take much more of this, of hurting Kaltar. He needed to be free of her problems. And she needed time to think. “I…I want to leave for a few days. I need to – find…something.” Sannel was surprised she had asked, surprised she wanted to take another journey on her own, through hyperspace.
Kaltar looked at her for a long moment. “Yes. You should take some time for yourself. It will be better for both of us. I myself need some time to – figure things out. Thank you for warning me about the Central Worlds. I will see you – later.”
“Goodbye, Kaltar.”
“Goodbye.”
Sannel then contacted Takell. She sent a copy of the conversation to him. I wish to take leave of the Council for some time.
After a few moments, Takell replied. This is not a convenient time. The B’qula will be attacking Hiigara, soon. After that, the Station will probably be next. We are already starting to make plans to evacuate.
I will be of little help, Sannel said. I need some time, alone.
-This is a war. I am afraid we cannot risk anyone. In a few months.
Sannel could not hold it in. She wanted to scream. -I need to leave. Now.
Takell was wary, impatient. More shame built up in Sannel, at the way she was acting. They all bore their burdens, why not her?
Go. I want you back in three days, he finally decided, unwilling to argue or debate the point.
…Thank you. Her ship set out from the Station, enjoying the motion. The hyperdrive activated, and the song of hyperspace enveloped Sannel once more.

Evading brilliant blue ion cannons, Fighters swarmed the Hiigaran hyperspace inhibitor, an affront to D’lact. The B’qula warships almost certainly could penetrate the inhibitor field but the planet-destroyer must spare no energy. Even more important, no trace of the Hiigarans must be left.
The Fighters rained their silvery beams on the two Carriers, burning holes, scorching the proud ships. Ion cannons blazing out from the Carriers were knocked out, fragments splaying outwards. Four Frigates – a pair for each Carrier – moved in for the kill, the wounded ships breaking apart as the ships fired their main weapons. The Frigates and Fighters turned their attention to the inconsequential escorts, lashing onslaughts of grey-white fire.
The rest of the fleet arrayed themselves in a sphere around the inhibitor. Dozens of ion cannons converged on the station, boring inwards. The outer hull melted away, defenses failing, plasma bursting outwards. Flickers of gravitational waves distorted the inhibitor, weakening the hull, allowing the ion beams to penetrate. With a great burst of blue-white light, the inhibitor station blew apart.
The B’qula proceeded, slashing the path to Hiigara.

You are going to Hiigara? Selta asked. She thought Glaan had become Nilsa, refusing to abandon the child, Sannel. Perhaps he had finally come to his senses.
Two of those in the Line reside there. We must ensure that they live. We will help them escape. Afterwards, I will return, Glaan replied.
Do you believe the B’qula will detect you? Selta probed. Perhaps this could work to her advantage, to the Guardians’ advantage.
If our lives are necessary, we give them. …But I do not believe it will become necessary.
And you will leave Junan alone with Sannel. The though was absurd. Junan had lost whatever objectivity he had once had.
…You have reservations about him.
So do you, Selta said. You now he is…inexperienced. Someone older and more rational could balance him.
…And you wish to be that person, Glaan concluded. Glaan had a way of making any statement seem threatening and ominous. Selta was not impressed much anymore. She had been an Overseer far too long to let Glaan stop her like that.
She is leaving the Council station as we speak. If she acts on an irrational impulse – as she is prone to do – she can end up in trouble.
Glaan was unconvinced. He knew, as Selta did, what her true purpose was – to test Sannel. You said you would respect our decision. You will not torture her to fit your standards.
Selta felt annoyance. For someone descended from Tasiin himself, her standards should be viewed as liberal. It is not torture – it is the legacy of Tasiin himself. Dreams are not comfortable, but they are revelatory. That seems to have been forgotten by many of us.
Still, the decision stands.
That decision was made before certain events, such as the encounter with Globular Cluster 079. You yourself said she was changed. We must be sure.
She is too fragile to risk, Glaan said.
In any other circumstances, she would have been expelled. You simply are feeling guilty about Globular Cluster 079. If she is fragile, then her weak self-control is weakening. Our duty is to protect the Line from enemies, external and internal. Such a test may find a way to save her from herself. Or, Selta knew, it could reduce Sannel further. But she would not let sentimentalism get in the way of duty.
I have conferred with Tolkan, and he assents. You will watch her as I go to Hiigara. Do what you must to assure yourself of her abilities. …I want her psychologically intact. We are Guardians, not tormenters. I will permit Junan to report his account of what happens in addition to your own. Do you understand?
Selta did not understand their fascination. But she would abide by it, as much as she could. Sannel, however, herself would not abide. She never did. She would break, again.
I understand, Selta closed. The link vanished, and Selta was alone in her Dream ship. She directed it on a new course, inwards towards the Core. She would see for herself what the others saw in the child. The Dream ship engaged its intercept course.

Sannel wrapped around herself as hyperspace sang around her. The song still chilled her, still disturbed her. Faster, she directed her ship. Faster.
Ahead were signals, a beacon, easily recognizable. Through the song, Sannel’s ship detected it – a Bentusi Exchange escorted by small wings of fighters and Cargo Barges. Sannel, while reluctant, wanted somewhere to begin. The Bentusi – legendary allies of the Kushan, friends of the Defeaters of Outside, subjects of so many of her childhood daydreams – would be a good, if painful start.
Her ship neared the golden-brown horseshoe, the light a comfort, a contrast to the dark shape of her black and blue ship. Ship matched course, warmed by the glow of the Bentusi. Sannel did not know what to say to them, did not want to speak, to disturb this calm.
It is inadvisable that you continue following us, the Bentusi’s voices resonated.
Her ship alerted her to the course the Bentusi were on – directly to Hiigara. They must be joining the great Hiigaran fleet stationed around the blue-green orb, the target of the B’qula.
…I am not here for official business. I have come…to…be a companion for some time. I will leave before you enter the Hiigaran system.
The Bentusi paused. Very well.
Sannel extended part of herself onto the Bentusi ship, projecting just enough so that she could distinctly hear their thoughts. They still reminded her of the 079s, still too much like giants. But, at least, projection onto a Bentusi ship was always less effective than projection onto Hiigaran ships, so Sannel could withstand it.
You do us a great service, she said.
Your people defeated the Devourer and Outside. We prefer not to be in debt to others. We will do what we can to help.
Sannel was reminded that she would not sacrifice herself for Hiigara. “Both kiith Limandatt and the Kaaltow knew there would be troubles ahead,” Hilya had said. “Especially the Naggarok launchers… The only one of us who could defeat them was Tasiin.” But Tasiin wasn’t around anymore, and the war was, in part, her responsibility, her burden. Yet, she did not go to Hiigara.
The Bentusi hesitated, and then conveyed a memory. Before Sannel could protest, she was one with them, one of them. A Tradeship was burning in space, tumbling under attack. The Imperial Taiidan had attacked them, the yellow and red capital ships circling their wounded Body; the Bentusi desperately firing their weapons until they too failed; a Cargo Barge, their hope to save some of themselves, destroyed. The Bentusi were resigned to their fate. At least, they had tried to fight, tried to aid the Kushan in their secret deals.
Yet, sleeker ships of equal and even superior power attacked the Taiidan, fighters drawing them away, firing ion cannons and mass drivers. The Taiidan starships were all either destroyed or captured.
The Kharakians had saved them. After 4,000 years in Exile, descending all the way from a race nearly Unbound, they had managed to soar again. The Bentusi, naturally drawn to them, were astonished. They were in debt to the Kharakians. The Kharakians must know who they once were. They must learn. The Bentusi resolved to teach them, to summon the Council to their cause.
That is a memory we have shared amongst ourselves of your ancestors. We suspected that you would exceed us, but your rescue confirmed it. It is the first proof of many.
The Bentusi viewed the Hiigarans as their children. No, rather, their younger siblings, more like equals. They were proud that the Hiigarans had made it to where they once were and surpassed it, surpassed them, even. They were proud of all they had done. So, they would stand with the Hiigarans until the end.
Sannel did not rely, moved somewhat, but still hating herself for the fact that she would soon abandon them. Still, they occasionally spoke to her. She had come for comfort, but she was more of a comfort to them. These Bentusi, Sannel knew, would surely die in this battle that should be hers. Perhaps they saw some faint reflection in her of Tasiin, whom they used to talk to, whom had given them hope against Outside. She still carried much of what was known about him, was descended from him, perhaps shared a few of his problems. So, they were content knowing some memory of him survived. But Sannel listened to their occasional story out of respect, not because she believed herself fit to hear them.
We are only 75 light years from Hiigara, Ship warned.
We must soon face the B’qula. It will be better if you leave us for them. Carry what you know so that it may continue to persist. Our songs are coming to an end, but we hope that yours is still beginning. Farewell.
Goodbye, Sannel said. She directed her ship to break off. The Bentusi ship sped into the distance, through hyperspace.
Sannel could follow them and arrive before the B’qula. If she were Tasiin, she could crush the entire enemy fleet out of existence. But still, perhaps her ship could damage a few Fighters, perhaps a Frigate. She could crash the ship into its main body, destroying it and killing herself. That would mean something. If she was meant as a weapon, she could be one in the only way she knew.
Ship was frightened by the thought.
It is only…nothing… Sannel said.
Sannel…don’t… Junan warned.
One of the two ever-present faint anomalies was leaving, on a course to Hiigara.
Junan, she called.
I am always here. Sannel was relieved with his presence.
The other one –
-Will help your ancestors leave the Hiigaran system. I and another of us will watch over you…we will have to turn around.
Sannel acknowledged him, reversing course. She decided to go outwards, towards the red dwarf where she met the Kaaltow. She could enjoy a conversation with Junan, and perhaps, when they arrived, with Hilya.
But Junan was abnormally quiet. She did not want to discomfort him as she did with Ship and Kaltar, but Sannel was worried. Ship detected another anomaly, closing in.
Sannel felt herself shiver, felt as if a shadow had passed over her.
You are the Guardian? Sannel asked.
The reply was haughty, indifferent. The child recognizes me.
I have been watching you for some time, actually. Do not worry…You will not be harmed. But we are going to have a little conversation. Do not resist.
In Sannel’s mind, recognition set in, from the knowledge the Kaaltow had shared with her. Hilya’s voice whispered the name. Selta.

Hiigaran ships advanced, destroyers and cruisers, determined to protect the world below. They were joined by formations of fighters and corvettes, leading carriers and support ships. Nearly simultaneously, the great lines opened fire, the blue beams converging on dozens of targets. The fiery globes of siege cannon fire blazed out from behind, careening into formations of Fighters and Frigates and Destroyers and Battleships. Detonating, the shots vaporized Fighters, damaging Frigates and Destroyers.
The B’qula were now 25 light years of their primary objective. These worlds were better guarded, much of the Hiigaran fleet waiting within. These worlds also served as a destination for most refugee fleets, although many were already fleeing the coming B’qula. The B’qula would destroy the greater threat of Hiigara first, and then they would hunt down the survivors.
Walls of B’qula Frigates and Destroyers advanced, sliding nearer with their inertialess drives, blazing silvery beams. The sparkling of the battle flared up, strike craft destroyed as soon as the Frigates and Destroyers targeted them. Grey beams gashed and wounded Hiigaran vessels.
The Hiigarans, nevertheless, advanced, twisting B’qula ships against their siblings, their lethal beams against their masters. Here, silver and blue rays converged on a Battleship, burning a huge hole into it. There, fighters and corvettes circled a Destroyer. B’qula Fighters destroyed a Hiigaran Cruiser. A trio of Frigates fired their gravitational weapons, sending a destroyer tumbling. From the sides, a cluster of Taiidan ships joined their fire, tearing into a Battleship. Two I’ao starships fired purple ion cannons, a Destroyer tumbling as gravity wells tugged on it. Still, the B’qula had an advantage, and as blue, red, and purple beams converged on their ships, they winked out one by one as Fighter swarms thinned the fleet, and targeted defense satellites.
Its escorts in disarray, several hull breaches gaping its hull, the B’qula activated the planet-destroyer. The skies were alight with weapon fire, debris sprayed everywhere. As the fleets battled, a pinpoint light was flung forwards, passing straight through a Carrier as if it wasn’t there and sank into the green-streaked planet below. With a great eruption of light, the planet dissolved moments later, disabling many Hiigaran ships with the electromagnetic pulse. The B’qula regained much of their fleet, and set out. In the blaze of the dying world, the B’qula attacked, Hiigaran ships trying to retaliate but overwhelmed. By the time the light faded, virtually all opposition had been destroyed, a few ark-ships remaining, which were easily dispatched.
The B’qula were victorious, but had sustained many losses. The war would become only more difficult as they approached Hiigara. But the B’qula moved on, for they were so close now, could now end the threat to D’lact. They immersed themselves in the songs of D’lact once more.

Sannel held herself in the dark, in the ship, her sense of reality tenuous. Selta must be forcing her to Dream now. Sannel had the impression she was circling her, as if trying to determine the best way to prey on her.
Junan? she called.
He cannot hear you. I have told him not to interfere. He must obey, Selta said.
You do not know who he is.
You do not know what it is to be a Guardian of the Line of Tasiin, Selta said, angry and bitter. For that matter, you do not know what it is to have any responsibility. …You do know what this is about, don’t you?
Sannel did not answer directly. What is it that you want?
She got the impression that Selta had stopped, was looking at her, halting her consideration. You – the Line – have a great advantage over other Hiigarans. You have Visions. You have Dreams. You were among the first to become Unbound. You have many of Tasiin’s gifts, through our guidance. You have everything possible. But the result…of twelve and a half millennia of guidance…is you.
Sannel did not speak.
Selta continued, her mind once again passing around Sannel’s. I have spent many years watching Nilsa watch over you. Now, some of the other Guardians are starting to feel sympathetic. But…we were never meant to be friends. We guard you, from both the outside and yourselves. We sometimes must be harsh. And you…you have not made this easier. You have been constantly playing the victim since Globular Cluster 079. You refuse to do anything of value. You have been even more aimless, less disciplined. Selta drew closer, her voice surrounding Sannel. You are like…a child, one who misbehaves to get attention, one who plays innocent, one who cries and runs away whenever the world unfolds differently than expected. I believe that it is time I – since everyone else is reluctant – taught you a lesson.
Are you going to…hurt me?
Selta was irritated. No… The sense of unreality heightened. Instead, we are going to learn what is making you work…and we will not leave until we find out.

Ahead lay the target – a hyperspace inhibitor, very ancient and very crude. Eight long, brown sections rotated, generating a field that would inconvenience the B’qula use of hyperspace. It was one of a few survivors from millennia ago, reactivated as a pathetic last minute defense.
The B’qula ships fired their silver ion cannons, focusing on one section at a time. Each section lasted not even a second. In a chain of light, the field generator was at last destroyed, having slowed them down for a few seconds.
Now, the B’qula were in range of Hiigara, and they jumped to hyperspace to confront the most Impure of targets.

It almost felt like if Sannel was drifting to sleep. She murmured, weakly struggling with her Bound body. Darkness folded around her, the song of hyperspace distorted into a murmur.
Do not fight it, Selta said. I do not want this to be painful, but I will do whatever is needed.
You are using your ship to make me Dream, Sannel asked. She had to hold onto whatever she could. She had to keep herself aloof, not Lost.
No. My Dream ship is not active anymore.
Then…how…why… Sannel wondered, feeling herself lose coherence.
We meant this as a weapon, Selta explained. But we found that it required too much time and effort to be viable. It works most effectively on those in the Line of Tasiin, but not so well otherwise…I have spent much of the conversation implanting the necessary command into your mind.
Sannel did not understand.
A telepathic trigger…we have some idea of what causes Dreams, on a psychological and biochemical level. We can induce them ourselves. With effort, though, we can implant a telepathic command to Dream…and Dream, and Dream. You cannot escape until I let you go, or you become…stable. Do not resist…
Do not fight…
There is no escape. You will Dream. You will die, the 079s said. No way to escape yourself.
Except one.
Sannel cried, but she agreed with them. She had gone on too long. She wanted someone to punish her.
No way out.
It begins, the 079s said, and they pierced into her mind. The pain rang through her mind, through the dark. Sannel wanted them to hurt her.
No escape, they reminded.
No escape, she repeated.
Only one thing as low as you.
Me, she finished.
The pain kaleidoscoped around her. Sannel sobbed, shivered, reality decaying.
Dream. Die. You. Dream. Now. Die. Now.
The Kaaltow, out there, a pinpoint of light. It beckoned to her, here in the abyss. It was not for her.
No way out.
She plunged deeper, past the 079s.
The Kaaltow, that light, was where she descended. Yes, that was where she had one to. That is where she should go to again on her trip. She remembered, the sun, the breeze, the stars, the mountain. She would like to talk with Hilya again, sit under the pillars, watch the stars come out. And then, after night had fallen, going out on a cloud, over the mountain, over the land, floating, and then letting the cloud dissolve, plummeting quickly and quietly to dark. It would be quicker that way. It would be cleaner, quieter, more merciful. It was the one way out.
The Kaaltow’s light faded into the star-filled sky, and Sannel rode a cloud into the dark.

The transition to normal space was glorious. Usually, the B’qula did not enjoy it, leaving D’lact, but this one occasion was special. For at last they had reached the heart of Impurity, the home of those who had murdered the animating spirit of D’lact: Hiigara.
Midway through the jump, something went wrong. The B’qula ships, coming in from twelve vectors in an icosahedron encasing Hiigara, had been caught in gravity wells. The hyperspace windows bent and fluctuated.
Like so many of the Hiigarans’ tricks, it was crude, an inconvenience, something that could be compensated for. The B’qula shunted power to hyperdrives, overpowering the gravity wells, emerging from hyperspace in a few seconds. The song of D’lact faded into quiet.
Ahead, there was Hiigara, a blue-green globe, lights adorning its night side, its grey-white Angel Moon in the distance. Surrounding it was a fleet of over a thousand vessels, mostly Hiigaran – nearly one-tenth of their fleet – as well as Taiidan, Bentusi, I’ao, Frrern, Zaala, others. But most important, the B’qula now saw, was the real reason the Hiigarans had tried to pin them down.
Coming in on every vector, rapidly, were siege cannon shots, dozens of them, a salvo fired by the fleet.
The B’qula had no time to react. The fiery globes bore down on them, and exploded. Plasma shockwaves ripped outwards through the fleets, destroying Fighters, Frigates, Destroyers, two Battleships, causing some damage to the planet-destroyer. In a matter of moments, they had lost a tenth of their fleet.
Now, though, the battle would begin in earnest. The B’qula closed in and broke in attack. Space was filled with silver beams.
It was time to judge the Hiigarans.

How pathetic.
Sannel was, at least, confronting herself, Selta observed. She was going into a deep Dream, the most powerful she had ever seen. Her mind, her thoughts, lay open to Selta. But it was doing no good for her. Instead Sannel grew more erratic. This was frustrating.
Selta received notice – Hiigara itself was under attack. Yet, Sannel did nothing, had little thought of doing her duty. Selta was angered, impatient. What could anyone have seen in this broken child? What could they have found in this torment? Sannel might have had a few above average abilities, but nothing to justify this abhorrent lack of self-control. Selta felt some pity, but no admiration, no sympathy, least of all, love.
Yet the task of solving her problems, of turning her into a fit weapon, fell to her. If this did not suffice, then she would have to increase the intensity still further. She would have to drive the Dream into her mind. Selta’s mind focused on Sannel’s, probing. Selta told her ship to add its efforts to the Dream, and the Dream ship obeyed.
A gravitational rippling seized her ship. The Dream ship oscillated, shrinking and expanding, fueled by…nothing. The intensity grew, focused more and more on the Dream ship, the ship bewildered-
-And then it subsided to nothing. Perhaps it was an anomaly, some distortion of hyperspace. Perhaps there was someone else here, but Selta detected no thing other than Sannel and Junan nearby. Perhaps it was Junan, but that wasn’t likely; perhaps it was – no, it couldn’t be Sannel. Not her. It couldn’t be.
Whatever it was, it did not repeat itself. Selta ignored it, devoting only a small portion of her mind to working on the identification of what happened, the rest focusing on the Dream. Flashes were rippling through Sannel – of the Bitalq, of the 079s, of the Kaaltow. And deeper, her first Vision when she was a child; something else – the Dream-Vision she had been told about, that indecipherable image that resulted from Nilsa’s and Hilya’s absurd joining.
Selta influenced, manipulated, trying to learn what was happening.

The Hiigaran Carrier, firing its siege cannon at the planet-destroyer, was beset by five Frigates, all blazing with grey ion cannons. As the shot hit the relatively slow hulk, adding another scar, the Frigates fired their gravitational weapons, destroying the Carrier. It was but one threat of many.
The planet-destroyer was taking heavy damage, as the Hiigarans focused their fire on it. But the planet-destroyer was not meant to destroy Hiigara. They would leave this world intact as a monument to their victory. They would torment the Hiigarans with the their world, making them know their home still existed, but went on under different masters. They would wipe out all life – all cities, all animals, all plants, and replace it with their own. Meanwhile, as the Hiigarans focused their wrath on the planet-destroyer, the rest of the fleet would emerge unscathed.
As Hiigarans and Taiidan and Bentusi and subverted ships continued hammering the planet-destroyer, primitive Zaala vessels engaged Fighters. There were two carrier groups her, in an abject, useless display of solidarity. The B’qula sent six Frigates and a Destroyer after this inconvenience. Point-defense ion cannons took out fighters, corvettes in seconds, chains of light where formations once were. Ion cannons then swung to the grey, soft-skinned capital ships, gravitational cannons aimed at carriers and cruisers. The Zaala group disintegrated and vaporizing, displaying solidarity no more.
The B’qula returned their attention to the Hiigarans.

What are you doing to her? Junan asked.
Doing what we always have done, Selta replied.
Junan did not want to watch any more. Selta, an Overseer, had ordered him not to interfere. Junan should not protest. But something within him refused to let this happen to Sannel. He felt an inexplicable urge to stop her. She will not survive much more of this.
She will survive, Selta said coldly, distractedly.
Selta did not understand as he did. Sannel had found an equilibrium in the past two months; she did not need anything else to disturb it. But Selta would blindly force her open, make Sannel face herself. Sannel was still not ready. But Selta would unleash the dark desires that were hidden in her heart
Junan tried to open a link with Glaan or Tolkan, the other Overseers. They were too busy, escaping the Hiigaran system.
Do not bother them, Selta ordered.
Junan tried again and again. Sannel’s life depended on this.
I am warning you, Selta warned.
You do not have the authority to stop me, Junan said. We are free to protect them, from both the outside and the inside. We protect them even from ourselves. Even the Overseers are limited by this. …Unless you really are intent on hurting yourself as well.
I will not stop you, but no will answer. You have no choice.
Junan continued sending the signal, but Selta was right. They were busy protecting the other members of the Line. That ruled out the Guardians’ intervention. The Bentusi ship was already at Hiigara; the Council was distracted. Only one choice remained. Sannel had become depressed after leaving the Kaaltow. He did not know what another visit would do to her, or even if they would acknowledge him. But he had to try. It was better than the alternative.
Guardian Selta has trapped Sannel and is inducing a permanent Dream. The other Guardians are distracted. Come quickly, he sent, and waited.

Yellow ion cannons arced into B’qula ships. Fighters around sprayed debris; Super Acolytes cut into Frigates. A Bentusi Tradeship, one of the last to arrive, from hyperspace, was the source of trouble. Plasma leaked from its scorched surface, blackened holes lining it like wounds on a creature. Another distraction, another anomaly, another inconvenience.
The gleaming B’qula Fighters bore down on it, slashing, burning the golden hull to blackness. Four Frigates joined their fire. Out of the Tradeship emerged a vessel, a Cargo Barge, serving as a lifeboat. The B’qula would not let any escape. They fired beams of gravity waves, pale columns of refracted starlight at the Exchange. The Bentusi ship broke apart in a flash of blue-white light, the explosion consuming the Cargo Barge.

Down, down, Sannel fell through the darkness. Her self melted, her grip on reality fading as if her hand had let go of it, of herself, memories flitting away. Sannel did not want any more. She wanted it to end.
A voice whispered around her. She did not remember the name, only the whiteness, the cloth, the resonance, the death. You have no song.
I do not believe in songs, Sannel replied.
All of the others – Hiigarans, the Taiidan, the Bentusi, the T-Mat – can hear something. Our people can also hear something. You only hear the soliloquy, the thoughts themselves. You hear nothing. From you, we hear nothing.
The blackness was suffocating. What am I?
You are a hole in the Universe. You are dissonant with the Universe’s order. You have no place. You have no purpose. You have no song.
I know, Sannel said.
You – the voice deformed into something darker, a collective, a planetoid – Are the lowest thing in the Universe. You will die. Soon.
I know.
Then, quietness, stillness.
Below was her father’s ship. Sannel, though she no longer knew her name, drifted into it, settling in that one place. Sannel was crying, face buried in her hands, shivering, cold, so cold.
I don’t want to be Lost.
She closed her eyes, tears flowing.
This was what it all came down to. This was what lay at the core of who she was.
With a chill, Sannel heard music, that song from so long ago. She wante dot hold her younger self, to comfort her. She was not Lost that first time. She should not worry. She should cherish that opportunity, because of the suffering later, the terrible pain. She imagined herself, hushing her younger self, reassuring her. If only she could.
The music – unlike all but the song of hyperspace, and even then only distantly alike – wrapped around her and Sannel hummed with it, resonated with it. This was what she had Seen as a child – herself, knowing that she would be safe, remembering the Vision. An endless circle, a loop in time. This was who she was.
“You do have a song, after all,” Datlai said.
Sannel held herself, the song fading. “No, I don’t,” she whispered. “No, I don’t.”
Datlai approached her. “How can you hear that and say that you have no song? You do have some worth…even though you cannot see it.”
“He said that I am a hole in the Universe. I am nothing. I have no song. Maybe…maybe what I am hearing…maybe that is what I remove from the Universe, what it is missing.” She was a gap in the life of the Galaxy, a breaking of the threads in the tapestry of the Universe. She wanted to go away, to fade away. She wanted not only that, but to erase herself from time, clean the dark blemish that she was repair the hole.
“Sannel…” Datlai held her, and Sannel whimpered. She did not want to be Lost.
A familiar presence neared, tired, watchful, indifferent.
“Don’t…” Datlai said. “There’s nothing more we can do to her. She is already drowning in sorrow.” Datlai seemed to be shielding her.
“I know,” Tasiin replied. He hovered nearby, like a sentry.
You have a purpose, the Voice said, filled with malice, wrapping around her.
No, I don’t.
Cold hatred enveloped Sannel. You will not do what you are thinking of, the Voice commanded.
But –
-Do not displease us.
With that, Datlai, Tasiin, and the Voice vanished.
Sannel huddled in the darkness, trying to regain the music. If only she could reassure herself. If only she could comfort herself. I do not want to be Lost.

The B’qula fleet neared low orbit of Hiigara, the planet-destroyer leaking plasma all over its battered surface. The defense systems of Hiigara were attacked, grey ion beams stilling the blue-white glow. Hiigaran and Taiidan ships still focused fire on the planet-destroyer, the behemoth at the convergence of a starburst of weapons. The B’qula would now feign; they activated the planet-destroyer, as if the do away with Hiigara.
In an act of desperation, Hiigaran vessels activated their drives, accelerated, and within seconds, a dozen Hiigaran starships plowed straight into the planet-destroyer. The explosions tore through the great vessel, and a shudder consumed it. With eruptions of white light, the planet-destroyer fragmented, broke. It was a terrible sacrifice, but it had been useful. The defending fleet had, in its distraction, been reduced to one-sixth of their size.
The Hiigarans had fired an opening salvo that had killed many of their siblings. Now the B’qula would have their revenge. Hundreds of the fatal beams of gravity waves struck the capital ships of the Hiigaran fleet. Nearly simultaneously, the ship shook apart, the fleet transformed into a debris field. Aside from a few stragglers, a few planetary defense satellites, Hiigara was vulnerable.
The B’qula fleet swung towards Hiigara. Several million had not been able to escape. At last, the threat to D’lact would be crushed. In a dodecahedron formation, twenty missiles plunged into Hiigara. As one they detonated.
With great fury, the firestorms consumed blue-green Hiigara. Shock waves circled and re-circled the world. Black, jet black clouds smothered the world. From twenty foci, seismic wave shook the world. All trace of the Hiigarans would be removed. All multi-cellular life would be destroyed. This world was once again Pure. A fitting memorial.
Fleets searched for survivors, the B’qula were sure to destroy all outposts on the moon. But they basked in their victory. It had taken over twelve millennia, but they had destroyed their primary goal. D’lact would be avenged. Never again would there be a threat to it. Never again.

Barely, at the edge of his ship’s capability, Junan detected anomalies, approaching Kaaltow ships. Selta’s ship’s drives activated. Stay here. Do not interfere, she ordered. They have no business in meddling. Her ship sped away into the depths of hyperspace. Whether she would defy them, Junan did not know. But he must now try to free Sannel. He waited until Selta was a respectable distance, and hoped the Kaaltow would distract her long enough, as his ship approached.
Sannel was trapped in a Dream, Selta having set off a trigger in her mind. The Dream was self-sustaining, and instead of a normal Dream, this one did not respond to physiological or psychological cues to end. Selta had planted a way to wake her, as well as a way to make her Dream at her will. It was a simple skill, Hiigarans not very skilled at working in the minds of others intricately. Junan was able to discern the necessary key.
Sannel’s ship was not responding, floating derelict in hyperspace. Nevertheless, Junan was able to project over. He felt Sannel’s mind, that closed tormented thing, lost in a dream world. Junan sent the signal, and his ship, concerned, added its efforts to counter Selta’s ship’s. Wake up, Sannel. Wake up. Junan wished he could find something to ease and lighten the situation, but none was possible. Wake up.
Sannel slowly faded into consciousness, blank, uncomprehending. She was still unaware.
Wake up.
Sannel’s attention floated over to him. Recognition set in. She was pleased with his arrival.
Junan.
Yes, he said. We must-
I knew you would come…
She still wasn’t fully conscious yet, and her ship was only now beginning to reactivate. Come. I will help you get back to the Station.
…I heard music that one time… she said. Sannel was delirious. Her grip on reality was gone. …I heard it when I was there…
Junan’s ship manipulated hyperspace and began towing her ship. He looked around, finding Selta was still distracted. She must have noticed him by now, though.
Junan.
Yes.
I am sorry.
You are sorry? I did nothing to help you until now.
The inconvenience to you…I do not want it. I am sorry. She cried.
Do not worry. Do not be sad. Why do you need to apologize to me?
Because I love you, Sannel said.
Junan was quiet. Sannel did not know what she was saying. He merely continued pulling Sannel’s ship along.
…I think I loved Tasiin…but he is gone. But you…
Selta was returning. The Kaaltow do not have the authority to take her from us. And neither do you.
Junan, Sannel said. Hold me.
He was uncomfortable with this. Still, he projected over the sensation of a vague humanoid form. More than that, Junan did not know what he looked like. He was not Bound; it simply wasn’t part of who he was. Yet, Sannel grasped the vague form.
She can’t withstand any more of this, Junan said. Have some mercy on her.
Mercy, Selta repeated, amused. You speak of it as if it is an attack.
It is, Junan said. Perhaps not physically, but psychologically. I can sense it. You enjoy what you are doing.
Selta was incensed. Cold hatred filled the silence between them. Sannel was still clinging to Junan, still murmuring to herself. He felt Kaaltow ships draw nearer.
First, Nilsa. Then, the Kaaltow. Now you, Selta at last said. I have tried to understand your fascination. What I see is that you give, and she takes, you give, she takes. She is ungrateful. She needs balance.
She already has an enemy, far worse than you can be. Herself.
Selta’s ship charged weapons, and so did his. Selta was more powerful than him, though. Who would win in a fight, he did not know for sure.
Unbound do not attack each other, Selta said. An ancient rule, from before the time of Tasiin. Guardians do not attack Guardians. Guardians do not attack their Overseers. You threaten the very nature of who we are. You have neither the will nor the power. You will return her to me.
Junan shielded Sannel’s thoughts, though the gesture was meaningless. Sannel looked at Selta.
A slight rippling coruscated through Selta’s ship. Hyperspace seemed to…be changing, filled with flickers of gravity. Stresses built up on the hull of Selta’s ship. Space-time seemed to be folding. The image of Selta’s ship distorted, disfiguring – and then it stopped. Sannel had stopped talking to herself, her attention focused on Selta.
Selta scanned the area, relinquishing much of her attention from Junan, searching for the cause. Her attention fixed on Sannel, once more, seemingly surprised, shocked, on the verge of recognition. Her mind began to probe –
-A new ship came out of nowhere, carrying a Kaaltow signature, but Junan could tell it was unlike anything that was Kaaltow. Its surface was twisted, components jutting out, craters lining its hull. The vessel looked like a derelict.
Selta diverted some of her attention to the newcomer, still trying to fix the rest on Sannel.
Leave at once, Selta ordered.
The response was immediate. A tiny projectile was launched out of a probscosis at relativistic speed. Selta didn’t have time to react. The weapon, a nearly microscopic shard, hit the rear of her Dream ship, sending it tumbling, spinning into hyperspace.
You have betrayed us, she sent. Unable to regain control, her ship continued tumbling away. Know that I will have you both expelled after this war.
Then she was gone, as was the distorted Kaaltow vessel. Two U-shaped Kaaltow ships glided in their place, as if they always had.
You are safe, the Kaaltow said.
Junan headed back towards the Council station, Sannel following closely, her ship having regained awareness. She had been gone for two days, and had to return now. He felt sorry that her trip had to turn out this way.
For much of the journey, all was quiet. Sannel pretended that she had said nothing to him. But still, she held onto Junan. It seemed to comfort her, and it, in some strange way, comforted him.
I am tired, Sannel at last said.
Rest, Junan replied.
Sannel did just that, as Junan lead her ship along, back to the station.

Sannel wrapped her arms around herself, Dreaming.
Softly, she sang to herself, whimpering. It was all that could comfort her, her one solace. She shivered. Sannel felt lonely, as lonely as when she had tried to escape entering hyperspace.
There was, as the 079s said, only one way out. Perhaps it was time to take that one way. She felt comfort in the thought. She need not be Lost any more.
But some memory kept haunting her. Sannel let it come to her.
That image kept coming back, the one she had seen in the Kaaltow Shrine, in the water, in her sleep. The Kaaltow had left some information about it in her mind. It was something drawn by a Guardian named Nilsa, as she had linked herself with Hilya. They had tried combining a Dream and a Vision. This was the result.
Neither the Kaaltow nor the Guardians knew what to make of it. But to Sannel, it began to make sense. It was not meant to be an image at all. The image sang to her, and she sang with it.
It was a message, meant for her, only her.
The songs melted and interfered like waves and the strange music faded. It came to Sannel. She at last heard Nilsa’s voice, dry as a whisper, nearly dying, speak to her. Sannel felt an echo of what she once was. Sannel listened, holding herself.
Listen to the song, child,
Listen to the song.
The great convening
Is the first step,
Not your destiny.
Walk with the others, though,
Until you meet the guide,
As the darkness falls.
Warriors will rise against their priests,
Children against their parents.
Weep, but dream of the light.
Listen to the song, child,
Listen to the song.
Wandering through the night,
As watchers and seers look on,
It is easy to become Lost.
Hold yourself, pledge not your soul,
As you enter hell,
And speak for demons.
Voices haunt you,
But flee, dear child,
For moments of joy are rare.
Listen to the song, child,
Listen to the song.
Sailors, traders, and priests,
Meddlers, journeyers, and spirits
Fall around you in despair.
Walk to the dark throne, walk;
We are all touched by darkness,
But not all stained by it.
Even the guides will be lost,
For the meddlers see much,
Where none understand.
Listen to the song, child,
Listen to the song.
Into the abyss, plummet.
All fall like you,
But none with you.
Seek, dear child, search
For your answers
In the depths of the abyss.
Near the great void,
Listen for whispering ones,
For they are hard to hear.
Listen to the song, child,
Listen to the song.
Cry with me, my child,
There is fire around you,
And darkness awaits.
Fly, dear child, fly
Before you fall,
Do not be afraid.
Soar, child, high above,
Soar into heaven
And listen to the songs.
Listen to the song, child,
Listen to the song.
Sannel was frozen. Nilsa wanted to comfort her. She did not want comfort. Nilsa want her to be free, to be secure. She wanted her to fly.
Sannel plucked off the Kaaltow Eye brooch, stared at it. She was not the child Nilsa thought her to be. She had no purpose, and Nilsa had no reason to expect one of her. Anger surged through her. Sannel slammed the Eye into the floor of her father’s ship and cried.
Where were you during all of this? When did you ever love me? she demanded. She looked at the fragments of the Eye, and continued sobbing. She realized she had no right to be angry. No, no- She picked up the pieces, tried to fit them together. The fragments adhered to one another. But still, there was a missing chip on the bottom, a tear-shaped piece gone.
This was how she had repaid Nilsa for her attempts at comfort, for trying to make Sannel happy, for going to all of that trouble.
Sannel could not fly. The Bitalq leader had said it best. She was in eternal free-fall.

At last, the Central Worlds had fallen.
Several fleets had stayed behind to patrol Hiigara, a symbol of their victory. But the B’qula had sustained terrible losses. One of their few planet-destroyers gone. Many of their flees had been heavily damaged. One fleet had been outright destroyed in one battle. About one in six vessels that had set out to Purify the Central Worlds had not survived.
But any cost was worth stopping the Hiigarans. They had taken far greater losses. One-third of their fleet was destroyed. Hiigara was burned. Their morale was broken. The rest was a matter of time, effort, and patience. The B’qula would continue fighting. Once all of the homeworlds were burned or destroyed, the B’qula could hunt down the survivors. There was still much work to do.
But they had achieved their greatest victory.

“I am glad to see you back,” Kaltar said. He was still haunted. Three days had not been enough for him.
Sannel did not reply, though.
“Did you find your answers?”
“No,” she answered. She had no answers. She had no song. She was a hole in the Universe.
“…I am sorry to hear that,” he said distractedly. “I suppose we should get working on the evacuation.”
The Council station was being evacuated to a more secure location. The Unbound were setting up a new space station elsewhere. The Bound were leaving in ambassadorial ships and military vessels and refugee ships. All because she could not stop the war. Instead of trying, she had merely left and come back empty-handed.
She would talk to no one about it. No one cared about her. How could they? And she could love no one adequately. She had no friends, she deserved no friends, not Kaltar, not Hilya, not Junan, not Ship, not Nilsa, not the Bentusi, not her father.
At least the end might come soon enough. The B’qula might attack her ship as it headed to the new station. And she would embrace it, would direct her ship to ram theirs. It would feel so good.
Death could not come soon enough.

dzurlord

28th Mar 02, 12:31 AM

Mooooorrrreeeeeeeee...........!!!!!!!!! :D :D :D:ninja: :up:

The Reflection

29th Mar 02, 9:10 PM

I had chapter 16 written and typed by the time I posted chapter 15. I just wanted to prevent Xellos from reading certain things in Nilsa' Vision. ;) I also wanted him to look over the chapter.
His reaction:

Oh. My. God.
Sounds intriguing, doesn't it? :)
As I once said, before chapter 6, there is more going on in NC than first appears. This chapter deals with much of that.
Enjoy.

The Reflection

29th Mar 02, 9:13 PM

16
Darkened World, Darkened Hearts
…Contact with the Tarl’tkinsa system became more and more sporadic approximately GSY 9600, decreasing over the next two centuries. The last known transmission from the Tarl’tkinsa homeworld was received GSY 9831, which stated there was to be no further contact, that they were permanently withdrawing from the Council, and that no ships were to enter their system. Since that time, no expedition has successfully entered the inner Tarl system, and many stories have developed around it, similar to those that once persisted about the Great Nebula of Kadesh.
The Council decreed in GSY 9840 that any one who enters the Tarl’tkinsa system bears all responsibility and burden for whatever happens to them. No one has since dared to assume that burden. It is unlikely that any understanding of what happened to the Tarl will be gained for some time…

Council notes on the Tarl’tkinsa system
GSY 13341 (3831 AHL)

The Galaxy was spinning out of control.
The Council station was being evacuated. Kaltar thought he would never see the day. The last full Council meeting had been held this morning, in which Takell described the plan to relocate to a peripheral world, a long-term strategy for survival of playing hide and seek among tars, and eventually a quiet exodus through slipgates scattered throughout the Galaxy.
All of which meant that the Hiigarans already viewed the war as nearly lost. Kaltar did not want to think about what kind of message that would send to the surviving races. Some would give up in despair, or launch suicide attacks, like –
-Like the Bitalq Leader.
Kaltar shuddered, moving on.
“Please, we must come aboard your ship!” cried a Faex refugee, speaking on behalf of twenty or so weary people.
“I’m sorry, but we have no more room aboard the Zeck-Thil Shal,” answered an irritated Thule. The Faex tried following, but was pushed away.
“I may be able to – “ began a passing A’la.
“What do you want, A’la?” demanded the Faex. Relations between the Faex and the A’la had always been cool. Yet it troubled Kaltar that even now, as the entire Galaxy was months away from falling, petty power struggles still appeared. He would have thought better of them.
But, he would have thought better of himself. And he had failed himself miserably.
He remembered it as clearly as if it was happening now. The Bitalq Leader, about to kill dozens. The staff pressed against him, electricity flowing through his body. And the body crumpled on the ground, burned internally, dying, dead.
The hall was clear ahead. At least there would be no congratulations. Those were the worst. Kaltar wondered how they would feel if they were the ones that had killed. But for them, vengeance was a new feeling. The Bitalq Leader had been right – they had not lived with it as long as him. They probably would take pride in the murder. But he was left with the monstrosity of it.
Since then, everything felt different. Kaltar no longer slept, and when he did, it was fitful, exhausting, lasting only one or two hours. Reality felt as if it was a pretense, shallow. Kaltar kept having the sensation he was being followed, especially by the Bitalq. Kaltar was completely different from who he had been five years, and he did not like what he had become.
In his room, which had been mostly packed, Takell and Sannel were waiting. Takell appeared far too stressed, almost resigned. He always struck Kaltar as fairly old, and now he showed his age. Still, he displayed no obvious signs of the needs for revenge that haunted Kaltar and so many others.
Sannel, on the other hand…her eyes had an extremely hungry look to hem. She was actually beginning to look a little unhealthy; whenever Kaltar was with her, he got a strange feeling. But whenever he tried to approach her about it, she evaded it in her usual way. He noticed a small piece had broken off the Eye the Kaaltow had given to her.
“Delegate Takell…” Kaltar began, at a loss. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“There is. You will be leaving on the Telana in about twelve hours, correct?”
“Yes.”
“We are sending all of the vessels on different routes, so they are more difficult to track. The exact location of the new station is being kept secret, for obvious reasons.”
“I am aware of this. I do not see any need for you to…but we aren’t going to the Council, are we? You want us to investigate something, don’t you?”
Takell nodded. “We have repeatedly said that we were investigating the possibilities – the derelicts, legends…lost worlds. One of the first worlds that came to mind was the Tarl’tkinsa homeworld.”
A map of the Galaxy appeared, zooming in on a region in the inner edge of an outer spiral arm.
“Back in the ancient times of the fall of the Taiidan Empire, the Tarl’tkinsa were a former slave race, expanding outwards aggressively, while remaining isolationist in nature. While not advanced technologically, they were still able to hold off competitors and grow in size. Yet, after a few centuries, they suddenly reversed and withdrew. Some neighbors annexed Tarl worlds, but no one remained. All, however, avoided the Tarl homeworld itself, and soon legends grew about it.”
It reminded Kaltar of Globular Cluster 079.
“At the beginning of the war,” continued Takell, “We sent one carrier group to investigate. Twice, they even dared to enter the outer edge of the system, visiting the outermost gas giant. They found no signs of life, nor any energy signatures. It is as if they never existed. But before the group had a chance to investigate, it was recalled due to B’qula skirmishes a few hundred light years away. Since that time the B’qula have been too distracted to try and seize the Tarl sector. However, the fleets refuse to send an expedition to the Tarl system – they cannot spare any starships. The other Hiigarans, too, seem reluctant…considering its reputation.”
“You want us to go instead,” Kaltar said.
“Yes. Officially, no one is to enter the system unless the Council approves, and my authority is not enough to override that. However, I, and many others in the Council, do feel there is something worth investigating there – anything that could cause an entire race to disappear is worth looking at, and should have been followed up sooner. Officially, you will be heading towards the new Council station. Truthfully, you will be going a few thousand light years out of your way – losing a few days in third-level hyperspace. After you visit the Tarl homeworld, you will go on to the Council station. It will remain a secret to the others, so if anything happens to you…the consequences will not burden your associates or your people for your acceptance. You have demonstrated that you are skilled in handling these matters, so you are the first I ask. But if you do not wish to do this, we will not force you to.”
It was a lot to absorb. Kaltar knew that such a mission was dangerous. Perhaps even as dangerous as Globular Cluster 079. He still was not sure if he was ready to go out in the stars, nor did he feel himself worthy. He had done little that could actually stop the war, but had caused much hurt.
Still, better him than someone else. At least if he died…better him than someone innocent. And he was still alive; perhaps the Greater Elders still had some use for him yet.
The Telana crew would be a different matter. He felt badly about sending them against danger. But they were loyal. He could explain they were testing a new route around B’qula space that could prove strategic, if risky; they would agree to that. Perhaps he could even hint at most of the truth, that they were investigating something on their way to the Council. Some might protest, but they were, as most Zaala, loyal. They would understand.
Sannel, though – he did not want to risk her coming, risk losing her again.
“I will have to think about it,” answered Kaltar. “But I believe I am willing.”
“Thank you. We will send the trajectory to the Telana.”
“Sannel, though, may stay,” Kaltar added. “I will go alone. Do not force her to go.”
“She volunteered to go,” Takell said.
“But-“
“I am going-“ Sannel stated.
“Sannel-“
“I am going,” she repeated with finality.
“You do not have to do this.
“I want to.” After silence, she repeated, “I am going.”
“Tell me after you have made your decision. I have sent all information on the Tarl to you. Good luck, if you decide to go.”

Sannel basked in the knowledge of what lay ahead. The Tarl’tkinsa system beckoned, a dark mystery. While Takell had spoken of lost worlds, of legends, of the war, of sacrifice, none of those were the reasons she went. Kaltar undoubtedly would go to try to repent, atone, to do some good, but they weren’t her reasons. Junan…he would go out of duty…to her. Sannel, though, would go to find a way out. Perhaps there lie something that could undo all that had happened to her. Perhaps there was something to believe in. Perhaps there was something, someone, whom she could talk to, freely and openly.
Failing that, though, the death that would surely befall her would end her torment.
Sannel, Junan said. I told you to stop doing this to yourself.
Sannel tried to dispatch her thoughts, dismissing them as fantasies. They felt like fantasies, at least. But still, she believed there would come only more pain, more darkness. There had to be an end sometime. Perhaps, she would fall asleep soon until it all went away.
We do know the signs, Sannel.
I told you before. I do not want to talk about it.
…Will you ever want to talk about it?
…I don’t know. I wish I could. She tried to imagine herself speaking freely to Junan, confiding, lowering her defenses, opening up, their minds synchronizing. But she simply could not do it even if she wanted to. The thought actually repelled her. It would be like becoming Lost in another person.
Junan deserved better than her. They all did.
Junan…if, when we go to the Tarl system…something happens to me, will you try to get Kaltar and the other Bound ones to safety? That would be her one regret.
…I will not make that promise.
Sannel’s mind went blank.
I do not want you to die, Junan explained. If I did make that promise, you would give up far too easily. I will not make any such guarantees.
Resentment coursed through her. You can be a manipulative and unsympathetic person when you want to.
If I could not, I would not be a Guardian, Junan replied.
Of course. She had no right to demand anything of him. If not for hi, she would still be floating in hyperspace, Lost, Dreaming. And he was still only looking out for her, despite how much she simply wanted to go away. Sorry. I will not bother you anymore. She withdrew.
When you truly wish to speak, we will speak. Until then… He also pulled away.
Still, there was another five hours before the Telana was scheduled to depart, and Kaltar was still busy, making final arrangements. Ship had been too frightened of her lately for them to have a meaning conversation with. There was nothing to do but contemplate the task.
The Tarl’tkinsa had always been an isolationist race, with a heavy industrial and military complex. In their final messages, they had made references to a transition, and still showed a disdain for the Taiidan and neighboring rivals. That made an inward retreat unlikely, ruling out an attempt to return to nature. Perhaps their society had collapsed. A transition, though – perhaps they had meant to advance themselves, somehow. Perhaps they even had tried to unbind themselves. Bound races were known for their attempts to become Unbound, occasionally successfully, often in secret. Even the Hiigarans had been fairly active in that area as a Bound race; a few even tried to duplicate Tasiin, but none of those were even remotely successful. Perhaps, the Tarl had tried – and failed.
Sannel hoped she would find out soon. It was probably her last chance to make something of herself. After that…she was not sure. She would think about that after it had come. For now the Tarl’tkinsa sytem should be sufficient.
She wished it could be true.

Even though it had happened many times before, Kaltar was still surprised when he found himself being confronted by the Bitalq. They always seemed to appear out of nowhere, or rather, appear as if they’ve always been there. The white clad figures stood in a semi-circle, the new leader, the sheklob in the middle.
“I am leaving,” Kaltar said. “On a dangerous mission, near the Outer Limb. I cannot say more than that.”
“We know,” the sheklob said. “We wanted to see that you were…not haunted.”
“I murdered your leader. How can I not be haunted?”
“You saved lives. We did not. You needed to protect your people.
“But that wasn’t why I killed him.”
“No – but if you were in the same position, would you have done it for the same reasons?”
“I don’t know.”
The sheklob seemed to be looking at him, through the white hood. “Apparently you must still be haunted.”
There was silence.
“Have you Seen the end of this war?” Kaltar asked.
“We have Seen many possible ends…we do not know which will be the true one.”
“And us? Will we survive the war?”
“We do not know that either.”
“…The Tarl’tkinsa.”
“We are not sure what happened to them,” the Bitalq said. “But we do know that within their home lies dark that you should not confront. Neither you nor your Hiigaran companion should be the ones to go there. You wish to go to heal yourselves and find answers, but within lie answers that you will not wish to hear. You should have more time to forgive yourselves before facing any more pain.”
“I suppose we both have a slight masochistic side,” Kaltar replied.
The Bitalq seemed regretful, pained. After some consideration, she said, “We have learned a saying of a Hiigaran from millennia ago: ‘Self inflicted pain can seem noble, but it is often an unheard cry for help.’ We are here. We have forgiven you, but you have not been able to forgive yourself. We hoped you would learn, but you continue to inflict pain on yourself. Consider what that Hiigaran said.”
Of course, that Hiigaran had probably never murdered someone and enjoyed it.
“We will meet you again at the new Council station.”
“We will survive?” asked Kaltar.
“Perhaps. In some respects. Whether you will be the same…we do not know.”
The Bitalq departed, until it was as if they had never been.
Kaltar was beginning to have doubts. What did they mean darkness resided in the Tarl system? What would be so painful? What would change him or Sannel? It felt too much like Globular Cluster 079. Was this the same, or something different?
But it was too late to pull out now. They would go to the Tarl system, and they would learn. If it was, as the Bitalq said, too early, too painful…he would simply have to bear that extra burden. Better to try to do something good than to know there was no redemption. Besides, he already had one life on his conscience, how much more could there be?
When he reached his room, he found it devoid of most things. The Telana crew would be picking up everything that remained in a few minutes. But, there was the golden vial, the only tangible part of Latal he had left. And besides it, the white blanket, the last gift she had ever received in this realm – and it was not even from him. He had no use for the blanket, of course – if anything, he felt too hot, heated by anger. But still, those two things were all that remained of Latal in this existence. He took them, keeping his hold secure.
There was nothing else in the room that truly mattered to him. The Telana crew would pick up the various diplomatic items, but he did not care if they were being abandoned forever. He had what was important. Kaltar forced himself to stop looking around the room. He must not push himself.
Kaltar left the room, noting the door with the black slash across it. He was still reminded of the Hall of Sorrows, of refugees crying, injured, dying. He had to move on. Kaltar headed towards the Telana.

After one and a half days of third-level hyperspace travel, still fifteen hours remained before arrival in the Tarl system. It did not help that the Telana was taking a meandering course, as instructed by the Council; naturally, her ship could go faster than the Telana. If she wanted to, Sannel could arrive in that sector within four or five hours. But she had no real reason to rush to her destination, nothing that would be excusable.
The song of hyperspace, as always, taunted her. After that Dream, the one that Selta imposed, though, the song felt…different, more vivid, more penetrating somehow. It felt almost as if, on some deep level, it was part of her, and she was part of it – not that she or it had changed, but that she had been aware of something that had been there all along. A few times, she had felt compelled to respond in kind and let that strange music fill the space around her. Once, she had even caught herself beginning to fall into that trap, her mouth beginning to move.
Sannel shivered, locking her arms across herself. She was tired of fighting it. Part of her wanted to give up and surrender. But, she warily dismissed those thoughts. She must never let go of herself. Sannel wished hyperspace was silent; she tried to imagine it, but couldn’t.
Out there, matching their course and speed, was the anomaly that was Junan’s ship. Ship had learned how to distinguish them enough from background noise to get a rough idea of where Guardian ships were located.
Even less distinct was another Guardian vessel. She believed it to be the ship of the first Guardian she had met. Whether, Selta was out there, Sannel had no idea. But, she felt securing knowing this Guardian was here, one who would not harm her further unless she deserved it, a cold, aloof sentry. He would not interfere. Besides, the only Guardian she had seen extend friendship to her was Junan, and she did nothing but pain him. She had no right to expect companionship.
She and Junan had not said a word to one another since their argument at the Council. Sannel wished she could talk to him; she could divide her attention to include him, but she did not want to cause him any trouble.
Sannel was talking to Kaltar to pass the time.
“…Do you sometimes wish you had someone else to speak with? Someone you could just…” Kaltar asked.
How many times, yes. “Occasionally.”
“I suppose it is the same way with me. The Bitalq – they still seem interested in me, even after I… We even had a conversation before we left. I still get the feeling that they watch me… And yet, I trust them more than I trust anyone else. Besides you.”
Sannel wished he would stop trusting her. He inevitably ended up getting hurt. It was her fault that he suffered so much.
“…And sometimes, with Latal…I’ll tell her things…”
“Why?” Sannel finally asked.
“Because I believe that she is still with me. I still love her, after all that has happened. I want her to be with me…You probably are too young to understand – unless you have ever fallen in love.”
Once, Sannel would have laughed bitterly in response to such a comment. Even now, she laughed, enough to convince Kaltar otherwise. She could not admit otherwise. Yet part of her looked longingly to Junan’s ship. How had it happened? How could she lose herself in another?
“I suppose not, then,” Kaltar said, finding it obvious, amusing.
Sannel never wanted to admit it. She could not say it. She could not speak of Junan to him. That could only bring pain. But still, in some deep part of her, that comment had hurt.
Sannel wiped away the tears even as she pretended nothing was wrong.

The Telana emerged from hyperspace into synchronous orbit over the Tarl’tkinsa homeworld. Kaltar was thankful for a long, quiet trip. If there was to be pain, they at least had some time to be happy.
The Tarl homeworld appeared before Kaltar, a fat crescent with the yellow-white sun in the distance. There was the dark blue of oceans, browns and tans of land. There were few clouds – in fact, no clouds at all, no polar ice caps. Stranger still, there was no green vegetation, as on many planets. There were no lights on the night side. But the Tarl had been a heavily industrial species; they could simply have damaged their ecosystem beyond repair, collapsing in the process.
There was no sign of the legendary death that was supposed to come to those who entered this star system. There was no sign of the pain or the darkness the Bitalq had warned about. There was not even the foreboding, ominous feeling of Globular Cluster 079.
“I am detecting no signs of life or activity,” Sannel said.
“Strange. Check around orbit – maybe they left behind a few relics,” Kaltar suggested.
“…Yes. There are what appear to be space stations, defense satellites, and starships – all intact. Low to none energy readings…Yet several are closing in on our position, fast.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. I will try to find out.”

The ships were definitely approaching, as fast as typical Bound vessels. They had an extremely low energy profile, minimal life signs. They more resembled asteroids as far as their signatures. Perhaps they were automated – but still they should be obvious to sensors. She had nearly overlooked them. Only some form of cloaking or mimicking technology could do that, and it would have to be extremely advanced – on par with that employed by Guardian vessels – to fool her sensors for so long.
Further scans revealed anomalous readings. The ships appeared to be masking their engine and hyperdrive signatures. Ship tried to compensate – discerning a radiation spike typical of old Tarl starships, odd life signs. There were several of these anomalies, of varying magnitudes, surrounding her ship and the Telana. What it meant, Sannel was unsure.
This…look at this, Junan at last said, breaking the silence.
A file came from his ship, containing further readings. Sannel applied them, and then froze in her thoughts. It had to be wrong.
Junan’s ship had been able to perceive through the masks, and Ship applied those readings, discerning the Tarl. Using those findings, Ship focused on several of the approaching ships visually. They had engines, certainly, as well as low, steady life-signs. But there was no mistaking the markings. Sannel checked the anomalies, finding the signs everywhere, and compared it to the old recordings on her ship.
Tasiin, no.
The starships, the satellites, the planet itself – all had Beast signatures. All were infected.

It could not be true.
“You must be mistaken-“
“No,” Sannel said, uncomfortable. An image appeared of an approaching ship, apparently a destroyer, elongated fins in the rear, less elegant than the Telana or Sannel’s ship. It was quite obviously a Bound ship in terms of design technology, one consistent with what he had read of Tarl ships on the journey here. But it was covered in red, fleshy ridges lining its hull, protrusions sticking menacingly out of it. It was most certainly organic. Though Kaltar had never seen it before, though he had seen the ancient records only once or twice, he knew it had to be true. A Beast fleet was closing in.
“I have sent everything my ship has been able to read over to you. They do not appear to be charging weapons – but we cannot trust even my ship’s sensor readings through their masking field.”
“Elders this is…” A nightmare. An atrocity, Kaltar thought. “…We have to get out of here. We have to alert the Council to this.” The implications were clear. The Hiigarans had led the crusade to slay the Beast before. They could not let this horrific weapon from Outside persist. Perhaps this was how the Tarl homeworld, like that dark, unnamed planetoid in Globular Cluster 079 were alike – both had to be destroyed for the sake of the Galaxy.
“Bridge, this is Delegate Kaltar. Charge the hyperspace module immediately. Jump to hyperspace as soon as possible!”
“Sir…a hyperspace dampening field has gone up…They also appear to be jamming us somehow – we cannot send a signal to the Council. We can’t escape,” the Telana commander reported. “Are those really-“
“Yes.” He checked the distance to the incoming vessels – fifty k’loms, too close for comfort.
Sannel began to speak. “…They…have stopped.”
“…Are you sure? They should be attacking,” Kaltar said.
“I know.”
This was too strange. From what he remembered, the Beast was voracious, insatiable. It was part of its nature, its purpose as a weapon employed by Outside. What did it want with them?
It had been a while since it had any visitors. Perhaps it was savoring the moment, the hunger. Perhaps it meant to add them to itself. But if that was the case, the ships would be drawing nearer and firing infection beams. On the other hand, that probably wouldn’t work – the Telana crew would know what to do. They would all be enveloped in the plasma fire of self-destruction. It would be appropriate, as he thought about it, to reach his end in the inferno. But the Beast was probably too intelligent for that.
But if that was not its purpose, then what was?
“They are trying to open communications with us,” Sannel said blankly.
“Let them speak.” Let me have a glimpse at them. Let me have yet another enemy, another thing to blame.
An image appeared before them, a humanoid, male, dressed in what Kaltar construed was the clothing of a leader. A Tarl. Not something the Beast would have chosen to represent itself.
“We are Tarl’tkinsa.”
Kaltar and Sannel simply stared at him.
“…We – I was, am Leader Ter’Fnalsi,” the Tarl began. “I speak for us. It has been… a long time since we have had visitors.”
Kaltar at last found the strength to speak. “You – we know the planet below has Beast signatures. Is it some sort of trick? A way to keep out visitors? Or are you the Beast itself?”
“We are…the signatures are true.”
“We had been told the Beast was destroyed. And yet, you are the Beast.”
“In…a way. But in another – a more…precise way, we are not. In much the same way you are not the launchers of the First Self – the Naggarok. Descended from them. But you are not them. Much as we are not Beast – what you call the Beast. What you call the Beast is… long since gone. We…its descendants are…different.”
“You were created by-“
“We are not monsters,” the Tarl said, more forcefully. “We are not the Beast – understand.”
“What do you want?” Sannel asked.
“We know the Naggarok launchers have returned to the Galaxy. They are close to here. We have to learn how to defeat them. They could…disrupt some of our plans.”
Kaltar could not tell what to make of the Tarl. He always seemed to be fighting himself, and yet maintaining a stability. But Kaltar sometimes felt like he was speaking with the Tarl, sometimes with the Beast. Sometimes he even saw hints of it in the self-image, a slight reddening of the face, almost a rippling of the flesh. He had to know – was it the person or the monster?
“Even if we did trust you – and I do not have even a slight reason to trust you – we ourselves do not know how to stop them.”
“We do not need to stop them, only hold them off from this star system. We need to know what you know of the Naggarok launchers. That is why we let you into the star system. Normally, we…don’t, in recent times, allow them…for their own good. We hide, so they do not suspect. But now we are driven out of isolation. We can use it to find defense. We are willing to trade.”
Trade, with some horrific tool of Outside. The Beast usually just took and took. When it did trade, it always ended up betraying its allies.
“Why should we trust you?” Part of Kaltar believed it better to let the B’qula finish the job, like they did with the 079s. It must not harm any others. Kaltar fought the urge to hurt the Beast even now.
“Because…we are not so different from you,” Ter’Fnalsi replied. “We will explain…”

Whatever Sannel imagined she would find in the Tarl system, the Beast was not part of it.
She had thought the Somtaaw had incapacitated the Beast by destroying the Naggarok. She had thought Tasiin and Datlai had defeated Outside, eliminating the threat of the Beasts. She had though the fleets of the Galaxy had since dispatched the final remnants, and there had been no evidence of other weapons planted by Outside. This did not fit. She did not want it. She would not be Bound. She would not be Lost, not in the Devouring Beast of Outside.
The Voice was stirring, shifting, almost glowing. Its presence pushed onto Sannel’s mind. While it was silent for now, it most certainly was watching. The Voice filled the space around Sannel, it seemed at a center of influence here, power surging through it. Cold hatred insinuated itself into, around Sannel, and she found herself wanting to revel in it, wanting to hate the universe for all it had done to her, for wronging her.
But the universe was cold, uncaring, lifeless. It did not want to harm her, because it did not want anything. She had no right to be angry. Sannel felt chills run through her body.
“Twelve thousand four hundred years ago, the First Self had been killed by the Kuun-Lan parts – Hiigarans,” Ter’Fnalsi began. “The Origin Self had been killed. All of the selves – all of the Beast fragments were fleeing the other races. Many were killed. Only the most adaptable and intelligent survived. The Beast was evolving into something different.
“And you were also rising. The Kushan, Taiidan, Turanic Raiders – all were growing more advanced, constantly growing closer to becoming Unbound. We were left behind in this outlying sector, falling centuries behind the great Bound powers. We had been conquered once before, and we resolved never to be slaves again. But despite our heavy industries and our strong bodies and our resolve, we reached a plateau. We could not keep up. Our safety was at risk.”
“So the Tarl and the Beast allied with one another,” Kaltar asked, cynically.
“Our frontier fleets had encountered the selves, Beast. Several had been infected. But instead of joining the greater whole, the fleets turned on others of our frontier fleets. We…they wanted the other Tarl to join us…them.
“We did not understand it at the time. But we learned what was happening. The Beast was programmed by the Origin Self – by Outside. But as it added the Tarl minds to it own, the Beast itself was subverted. The Tarl’s resolve defied the programming, constantly struggled against it, bending it. Both wanted to grow. But the Tarl wanted more to benefit the other Tarl.”
“You let the Beast infect you so you could become Unbound,” Sannel concluded.
“It was not a sudden decision. We had developed rituals around the infected fleets, which had grown tame. And we had tried for so long to become Unbound - but the results of that were insane and grotesque. Thousands had been sacrificed in each quest. We saw no hope of ever becoming Unbound. We looked longingly towards the Hiigarans and our rivals, the Taiidan and the Turanic Raiders. We looked longingly to the Beast. We were desperate. It was our only hope. We cut contact with the Galaxy, and hid ourselves. Then, we let ourselves be joined with them.”
The Tarl became quiet, stopped, frozen. “I remember…when it happened. It hurt. It hurt so much. The pain, the pain! It tore through us, ripping us-“ The Tarl seemingly doubled over in his self-image, in agony, fear and desperation.
He stopped; the control and equilibrium asserted itself momentarily. “But we are at last Unbound. Our selves are invulnerable. Parts cannot hurt us. We will feed-”
The Tarl, overwhelmed by the Beast now, halted again. Two competing wills living in one body. The Tarl had gained power in exchange for their sanity.
“Even if some part of you is still Tarl, you are still partly Beast. We cannot help you,” Kaltar said.
“…But we are not the Beast. We told you. We are different. The monster you deride is gone. We are not the same. Just as you are not all Naggarok launchers. We are different. Just as the Hiigarans are different.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sannel.
She felt amusement, heard a sigh. “Is it still a secret? Do you not know?”
Sannel was silent.
“The Hiigarans are no different from us. Your people also dealt with us. You also use Beast technology. You have been our allies all along.”

The Tarl had to be lying. Kaltar had been taught all of his life that the Hiigarans were saviors, sent by the Greater Elders to protect the Galaxy. He had learned over the past few months that they weren’t divine – but still, he didn’t think them so low as to deal with the Beast. The Beast had killed, enslaved thousands and was poised to enslave billions. Kaltar could not imagine the Hiigarans using the deaths of thousands – including many of their own kind – as a mean to skip ahead a few centuries. He certainly could not imagine Takell, so wise and fair in speaking for them in the Council, or Sannel, so prideful of her heritage of Defeaters of Outside, to be a party to it.
“You expect me to believe-“
“The Hiigarans did a remarkable job of hiding it, even from themselves,” the Tarl said, his…its mouth crinkling into a sinister smile. “Is it so hard to believe they haven’t always been altruistic?”
That, Kaltar was afraid to admit, was probably true. Before their influence in the Galactic Council was secure, many had been militaristic, aggressive, expansionist. Kaltar could imagine a few trying to experiment with the Beast. Still, he could not bring himself to accept what the Tarl said. It went against too much of what he believed.
“I find it hard to believe they would be so selfish. I need proof.”
“Do you want a demonstration?” the Tarl asked, nearly daring him.
Kaltar nodded, unsure.
The red infection beam, laced with blue, emerged from a Tarl destroyer and hit Sannel’s ship.

This definitely was not how she imagined her life would end.
The Beast cells, partly organic, partly mechanical, spread through he veins of her ship. Ship cried out in agony, and Sannel echoed it. They clung to each other, watching as the infection spread through them.
She felt a warm glow – Junan. He was comforting her in her final seconds, even as the Guardians surely must be targeting their weapons on her ship. At least, he and Kaltar could escape. Already a fraction of a second passed, Ship spinning, writhing.
But a cold thrill filled Sannel. Now, it could end. Ship was beginning to overload its drives. Plasma would consume them. The pain would end. The torment would end. Sannel embraced her death.
-The Beast cells, coursing through them, stopped. They halted, receiving contrary orders. And as one, they reversed, deactivated. The Beast infection disassembled itself, the nanotechnological agents of Ship removing the remnants, ejecting them. Ship aborted the self-destruct, with no real damage done. Sannel had been denied death.
There should be no way for a Beast infection, especially one as mutated and advanced as the Tarl, to be stopped by simple countermands. Unless the Beast had told it to stop. The gravity of it crushed Sannel. The Beast was incorporated into Ship all along.
“Tell me,” Sannel demanded.
“How much?” the Tarl asked.
“All of it.”
“If that is what it will take for you to give us the information…”
Images came to her, ancient Hiigaran ships, sensations of those aboard, engaged in experiments.
“It must have been frustrating to you, as a young Unbound race to see the Beast work effortlessly at what was complex to you. You had crude nanotechnology – for example, in repair ships and in your medicine. You – like all of the major Bound races, the Taiidan, the Turanics, and a few of even the older Unbound – conducted research on the Beast, research you kept so secret that not even the Bentusi or the T-Mat ever suspected. After all, the Beast was an incredibly advanced, tantalizing technology designed by the Origin – Outside. But all of your experiments, all of your attempts at reverse engineering it failed. So when a military expedition was sent here to investigate our…disappearance, some were…open to an exchange.” Sannel saw an old Hiigaran carrier group jumping out of hyperspace over the Tarl homeworld.
Sannel noticed her ship was moving, its drives engaged, towards an energy spike a few dozen k’loms away. I am not doing this, Ship cried fearfully. Even stranger, she could see the ships of Junan and the other Guardian, which were decloaked and being pulled with her. The Telana followed of its own free will.
They must be doing this, Junan said.
“We had threatened to destroy and infect the fleet. You had threatened to expose us and burn our world. But we found a mutually agreeable proposition. We agreed to develop a derivative of the Beast – merely a mutation for us – for use in your bodies and your ships. We made it highly adaptable, for use in many areas, able to be commanded, and we removed other abilities – intelligence, the hunger. Under the agreement, we did our best to conceal its true nature, so it would look like Hiigaran technology, but it still was at its core like us. In exchange, you agreed to conceal our existence at all costs, to spread legends about this place about being haunted, so none would bother us…and to give us certain information concerning Outside and trans-hyperdrive,” the Beast Tarl explained.
The concealing of their existence, that could explain why the Hiigarans would be so reluctant to send an official expedition here. It was part of a secret alliance, an attempt to hide the truth.
Sannel shivered.
“You must have had your questions about how your technology works. You must have had suspicions. Even if you did not – surely you can see it now. It does, after all, share traits with the Beast. Nanotechnological healing devices in your body and ship, sentient starships, the ability to locate your kind when all conventional beacons have failed, projection of minds, extremely low-power hyperdrives…all of these abilities are due, at least in part, to the Beast derivative we gave you.”
The Tarl was claiming nothing less than everything that made the Hiigarans the most powerful race in the Council was partly due to her ancestors’ sworn enemy. She did not want to believe it. But as she thought about it, it all made sense. She had injured herself on the Kaaltow Shrine; by the time she had awoken, her hands had been healed. She was not sure what was typical of healing, had assumed the Kaaltow had helped her, but perhaps the Beast agents had done it. When she had fled the Council, after watching K’Basal burned, the Council had found her Dreaming, even though Ship had sent no signal to betray her. The Beast, though, would have an instinctive knowledge of where its parts where; harnessing that sense could track her down. Projection had always been mysterious, but if Beast cells could read a mind’s thoughts, probe the brain from the inside, it would be easier. It would be even easier if the receiving ship also had Beast cells, which could contain part of the projected mind. That would explain why projection onto Bentusi ships was harder and less effective than projection onto Hiigaran ships. Junan had projected onto her ship, even when it was derelict. And more – Sannel recalled no one had successfully boarded a Hiigaran ship in…a long time. Perhaps Beast agents would attack perceived threats. After all, during the battle with the Tik, none of the Tik bothered approaching Hiigaran ships – because they would not survive the attempt. And even now, the Beast Tarl had control of her ship and the Guardians’. It fit too well. It was true.
Sannel remembered being held by Hilya, hugging Kaltar. She too contained Beast cells within her. Had she unwittingly spread it to them? Perhaps the Beast did not attack them because she did not see them as enemies – but what if that fail-safe wasn’t there? How close had she come to killing them? Sannel imagined herself spreading the darkness of the Beast to the Kaaltow, to the Zaala, to the rest of the Council. She felt sick, horribly repelled.
She had another horrifying thought – what if Ship, that friend, that companion, the one she constantly tormented with her own pain – was nothing but a Beast intelligence? But a still worse idea came to her – what if her own thoughts were influenced or controlled by the Beast? What if she, in all her troubles, had never been anything but a Beast mind? Perhaps she, by virtue of existing, stifled whatever real, surely better mind that would have developed in her on its own. What if the real Sannel had been desperately crying out for all of these years to be free, free from her, a Beast oppression?
We got here by ourselves, Junan said.
Yes, replied Ter’Fnalsi. Most of your thoughts and your ships’ thoughts are real and your own…just as most of our thoughts are our own…but that boost we gave you helped you reach the apex of the Galaxy.
The ships were nearing a slipgate, artificial, also carrying a Beast signature.
“Stay here,” she told Kaltar.
Sannel had come to the Tarl system to find answers. She would learn what other atrocities her people had participated in. Followed by the unwilling Guardian ships, her ship, controlled by the Beast, plunged into the red maw of the slipgate.

Kaltar was furious. Everything he knew about the Hiigarans had been shattered in a matter of minutes. True enough, the sins had been committed millennia ago. But still – how could they have betrayed his faith? Why did you do it? Why be so greedy when you are capable of so much good?
Kaltar remembered a conversation he once had with Takell.
“So you have found Sannel,” Kaltar had asked.
“We have tracked her ship into that general area,” Takell answered.
“But you haven’t exactly found her.”
“No. But we will.”
“You will?”
“Yes.”
“Would you care to share how you are so sure you will find her?”
“No.”
I finally see why you didn’t want to tell me, Kaltar bitterly thought. Did you know all along? Or were you as unknowing as the rest?
He would find out when they would get to the Council. Kaltar would confront those responsible, if any still perpetuated this secret. And he would…Kaltar must not think about it. He had killed before, would he do it so easily, so carelessly again?
It mad sense the Bitalq had warned them not to come here. Already Kaltar was feeling the anger, the injustice well up in him. He had not enough time to heal. He must make no plans yet. What this was doing to Sannel, he could not imagine. But he was determined not to let her be destroyed by this.
Kaltar paced relentlessly.

Nilsa had warned her of “the dark throne” in a Dream. This place could qualify.
An asteroid, encrusted in the red of Beast infection, had been turned into a shipyard. Its center had been hollowed out, an opening into its front side. Below was a rocky planet, and in orbit were many, many other asteroids drawn into a belt of resources. A few other slipgates radiated with energy in the distance. Astrometric readings were unclear – there were no nearby stars, a dust cloud blocked out most of the identification points of the Galaxy. Beast ships – none Tarl, that Sannel could see – but ancient Kushan, Taiidan, Turanic, Frrern, I’ao, others…chillingly a Zaala ship not too different from the Telana – guarded the asteroid, working mindlessly. None seemed to mind her – after all, she was one of them, in a way. Sannel could feel their thoughts, sense their feelings – they were in pain, still holding an understanding of what they once were, of what they had been forced into, and yet there was inevitableness, a programming they could not fight, unquestionable commands from greater wholes, a need to serve that exceeded their pain, their wants. And that is what the Hiigarans had let into their bodies and ships.
The Voice wrapped around Sannel. A project. Understand.
She felt a warm sensation from Junan. He held her, and she held Ship, all of them trying to understand what has happening.
In the center of the shipyard lay…the Beastslayer.
Closer analysis revealed differences. The Hiigarans must have handed over the design to the Beastslayer in their secret deals with the Tarl, and the Beast had filled in the rest with its knowledge of the Naggarok.
Yes, whispered the Voice.
We are…compelled, even now… the Tarl began, his, its voice coming from seemingly nowhere. The information about trans-hyperdrive was passed to other selves…It satiated our primordial drives, demands…
Sannel knew what it was meant to be. It was the whole motivation of the Beast – to return home. This was a monument to its desire to return Outside. But Outside was defeated, Sannel knew. She did not hear it as the Unbound had so long ago. The destruction of Outside was the cause of the B’qula war. This starship could never be more than a monument, a testimony to the unceasing control of the Beast.
The Voice was amused, impatient. Before Sannel could react though, it evaded her, defocused, leaving her.
You know the truth, the Tarl said. We cannot access the Hiigaran information network from your ships – your own technology prevent us from doing that. Give us the data on the B’qula. We will give you everything we know about the original Naggarok.”
You are the Beast, Sannel said, blank, cold. A servant of Outside.
But we are not the Beast, the Tarl said. No more than you are B’qula. Tell us what you know. Give us. Give it to us, or we take it with your-
The Tarl stopped, trying to regain equilibrium.
Sannel was silent.
We mean no harm. It…sometimes…overwhelms us…
She said nothing.
We will not let you go until we learn about the B’qula. We would not even have let you enter if we did not believe that you would tell us. If you tell us, we will let you go immediately.
Nothing.
What do you want?
Kill me, Sannel demanded.
Sannel! Junan called. We can find some way through this-
We mean no harm-
Kill me, she repeated.
No one answered, shocked.
Kill me, now.
No, the Tarl replied at last.
Would they ever just let it end? She did not want any of it, just wanted it to end. She deserved to die. She was a hole in the Universe. One without any purpose, without any redemption. A carrier of the Beast. A bringer of pain and darkness. She had no song, no hope. Like the Beast ships, she too was trapped in a cycle of pain. But instead of dying, that one way out was always blocked. And now, like the Beast ships, she too had no choice but to continue in her servitude to pain.
Junan and the other Guardian were still trying to regain control of their ships, to try to find a way to escape, but it was pointless. Sannel did not bother trying. Everything was futile.
Sannel did not care anymore. She did not want Kaltar and Junan and Ship to be stranded here forever. She did not care about herself. There was no plan or order for her to wreck by cooperating, no purpose for herself she was thwarting. She wanted it to end. Perhaps the others would kill her after she cooperated. Sannel sent over all of the files pertaining to the B’qula, receiving other data in return, Beast data, which she passed along to Junan. As promised, their ships were piloted back through the slipgate, and the Tarl relinquished control. The Guardian ships recloaked.
We are grateful that you-
Sannel cut communications, prepared to direct her ship to open fire on any Tarl ship that approached.
“Did you-you didn’t-” Kaltar stuttered.
“I don’t care anymore.” Sannel hated herself, for who she was and wasn’t, for what she had done. She collapsed into weeping as they jumped into hyperspace.

dzurlord

30th Mar 02, 3:07 AM

we......live......... :D

It just keeps getting better and better. A showdown in the making for thousands(millions?) of years.:yippee:

*wonders if it'll work twice* Mooooorrrrrrreeee!!!!!! hehehehe.

Xellos

30th Mar 02, 11:43 PM

I mean, no howls for my head for creating such a horrible creation as the Beast Tarl? :D And none for Brian's head for infesting the Hiigarans with Beast themselves? *chuckle* And there's even *worse* to come. There is the Final Dark Secret.

Which is... a secret. :devil:

But sheesh... I mean I'd think we'd have more praise for such excellent work on Brian's behalf. *smile*

But there's only one thing left to do. :lurk:

dzurlord

31st Mar 02, 12:06 AM

Which is why I still want to see the end of cata fleet intel. *cough*

Cooker

1st Apr 02, 4:12 AM

Technical arguments on this story
1. Technical advancement in 1,000,000 years.
There are countless thing you can do in 1,000,000 years, such as antimatter siege cannon, ultra-capital starship, nanotechnological weapon systems, force shield, weapons works in hyperspace, Mega-bomb, anti-gravity shield, worm hole drives, space binding weapon systems and so on. Why did all these race stick with old technology for these much time, did they go though a dark age?
2. Not all race are humanoid…
So many races, some can be insect, some can be reptiles, some might live in water, some might breathe nitrogen, and so on. Why all races in your story is humanoid? That difference could be made into interesting points. Such as that a part of console station should be permanently filled with water to compensate with water living species.
3. No counter to the big bad guy’s tech?
Can any scientist from any race find a good idea again these stupid gravitational weapons? I for one could find one. Please go to NASA site and look for anti-gravitation generator. (Search anti-gravity) story wise, how did ship get out of gravity field of planets anyway, just amplify this thing, and you will be able to shield yourself against this weapon. And about Ion cannon, you can simply positively charge your self and the ion beam will not do a thing. And this mighty galactic race could easily blow the bad guys because they could simply use partisan tactic on a very large front, because you can never be sure of where your enemy fleet pop out in your thousands of light year frontline.

That was ALL my doubts, thanks very much for lifting them.
NO OFFENSE, by the way, NO OFFENSE, indeed !

The Reflection

1st Apr 02, 11:02 AM

There's actually a lot of story behind NC and Outside, some of which answers your questions. I also considered many of the issues here when beginning it. I hope you will find my answers adequate enough to explain several of these problems.
Here are my answers:

1. Technical advancement in 1,000,000 years.
There are countless thing you can do in 1,000,000 years, such as antimatter siege cannon, ultra-capital starship, nanotechnological weapon systems, force shield, weapons works in hyperspace, Mega-bomb, anti-gravity shield, worm hole drives, space binding weapon systems and so on. Why did all these race stick with old technology for these much time, did they go though a dark age?
This was a big concern of mine when I started NC. Not only the B'qula, but why hadn't the Galaxy advanced in 12,500 years?
One reason was literary. I didn't want the story to become just a bunch of hyper-races tossing new and different hyper-weapons at each other every chapter.
But there's a more solid reason than that -
The B'qula are among the most advanced races in the Universe. Almost no one else has developed FTL technology. Remember in chapter 8, the 079s said:

We built arks to escape. But we were limited to less than light. Relativistic speeds. And they hunted us. Slaughtered us.
Simply having the FTL technology in the first place is a huge advantage - they can just sneak in through hyperspace on whoever they want to attack and escape at will. Hyperdrive is not an easy thing to develop - the Kharakians never learned it; in Outside, it is said:

The problem is that we don't understand hyperspace," Dolann replied. "We know it has to do with quantum tunneling an object, but not much else. Neither do the Taiidan. It was one of the first things the Republic told us - they bought hyperspace technology from someone else and made a few simple adjustments. The Bentusi even do not fully comprehend it, although they have done some extensive modifications to their own. We do have speculations, ideas, but..."
With the lack of FTL drive, that means most competitor races that the B'qula are going to face have not met many other races and will have starships more suited to colonizing and exploring than war. It is easy to make war when you can jump in and out of hyperspace at will onto an enemy fleet after a few weeks' travel; it is very difficult if you have to spend centuries reaching your target, lugging around tons of fuel and engines with a fuel ratio of several dozen units of fuel to one unit of payload - just for going about 75% of c, one-way, with antimatter. (Keep in mind, they have to generate all that antimatter, a process that is very inefficient and resource-consuming.)
So, basically, the B'qula have had no real competiton, and their current weapons - ion cannons, gravitational weapons, nukes/atmospheric deprivation devices, planet-destroyers, et. al. - are quite sufficient to take care of virtually anything they will run into. Without competition, there is very little evolution.
As far as why I chose ion cannons, in Cataclysm the Naggarok has ion cannons, despite having the ability to use inertialess drive and the harvesting of ships. I figured that ion cannons were part of the original Naggarok and so I used them, only much much amplified. The original ion cannons weren't too strong, but the ones on current B'qula ships are much stronger - the kind that can take out Bound frigates in less than a second (as was mentioned in chapter 13 and 14 when the Zaala are battling them), the kind that could probably take out the Kuun-Lan in less than ten seconds. Unless they're attacking the Unbound, that should be sufficient.

As far as why the Galaxy hasn't advanced more...
Firstly, I needed the Galaxy weak enough so the B'qula would present a challenge.
But again, if we take a look at Bentusi ships, their weapons are not too powerful, and they've been around for millenia, apparently. Even in the original Homeworld, if you take a look at the BIG file and examine the T-Mat ships, they're not too powerful - a few powerful ion cannons, a lot of armor. And they're supposed to be warlike, and as advanced or more so than the Bentusi, around for thousands of years. Since I used those ships in Outside, I figure that if the T-Mat can get by with those kinds of ships, they are sufficient for most purposes within the Galaxy. They haven't had any competition for a while, and many of the races have had their ups and downs. With a Galaxy that has finally achieved peace, I doubt the Hiigarans would want to upset that delicate balance, and they didn't really know what to expect witht the Naggarok launchers ("Say, there might be some highly advanced race coming along in the next few centuries, but they might also take several more millenia yet, or they may not even be coming at all. How about you all develop unstoppable super-weapons just in case they decide to show up, in the chance that they might possess more firepower than the whole Galaxy. Of course, we trust that none of you will try to use them, even though many of your militaristic and expansionist desires have been thwarted by our imposition of peace on you.") So, when the time came to describe Unbound Hiigaran ships, I decided they should have ion cannons (again, more powerful than even the T-Mat) and powerful siege cannons (maybe not so much as in ultra-powerful, but the shots come in very fast, with only a few seconds to evade them, eliminating the main weakness of the siege cannon in Cataclsym.)

Some of the ideas you list are actually in use -
ultra-capital starship: The B'qula Battleship (nearly 50 k'loms long - two or three times the visual range in Homeworld), the T-Mat Mothership (that big starfish ship seen in concept drawings; in Outside and NC, they have a few, and as you'll see in chapter 18, they've been working on something else...)

nanotechnological weapon systems: Hmm...I imagine it would be possible such weapon systems are easily susceptible to EMP, and something like the Naar Directive could apply to both Council and B'qula ships - they could just burn out such weapons before they could work.
(It is also possible the B'qula tried these against the Hiigarans, but found they didn't work because of their little "gift" from the Beast.)
I actually believe that the more engineering B'qula, who are kind of hovering outside the Galaxy right now as the warriors clear out the Galaxy, who probably have nanotech in order to terraform worlds for colonization, but for whatever reason (like the three I invented above) are not suitable for war.

weapons works in hyperspace: In Outside, I postulated hyperspace was simply like space, only a higher energy state, an excitation of the universal quantum wavefunction, in a way. Therefore, all weapons work in hyperspace as they do in normal space. In chapter 15, for example, Junan and Selta were about to fire on one another while in hyperspace, and the distorted Kaaltow ship disabled Selta's ship.
If you are wondering about something opening a hyperspace window in another ship, that was what the Bitalq leader was about to do in the B'qula ship in chapter 14.

Mega-bomb: The B'qula atmospheric deprivation device satisfies this. (Personally, I imagine such a device to be, at its heart, simply a really big nuke, on the order of several teratons of TNT. This would create a firestorm much like that caused by an asteroid impact that would consume the atmosphere, with much the same effect.) They also use it against Arks, if you remember from the chapter 14 after they burned the Zaala homeworld.
The Zaala also try using nuclear weapons in the final defense of their homeworld, launched from their defense satellites. The Hiigarans also have atmospheric deprivation devices (Kaltar thinks that the Tarl homeworld must be burned in chapter 16), but they can't get past the B'qula ships to use them. (Besides what are they going to do, re-burn the homeworlds?)

worm hole drives: The Tik use a drive like this. The B'qula would consider the use of something like this an affront to hyperspace/D'lact, which they think sings to them. The Galaxy is not advanced enough to develop this.

The B'qula also have two more weapons - one is the planet-destroyer. This thing creates an engineered singularity which is somehow tuned to evaporate in a burst of quagma: quark-gluon plasma, a state of matter that exists around a few trillion degrees Kelvin. This quagma then consumes and converts normal matter. Such a process has been postulated recently in physics as strange matter, and might occur in neutron stars, transforming them into quark stars, if you will, and was used in Stephen Baxter's novel Manifold: Time. But this is really advanced physics we're getting into, and I imagine it would strain even the B'qula technology, and they wouldn't have developed it if they didn't need to take out planets.
Also, the B'qula can set off supernovae, although this is a process that takes some time. If done right, the supernova of one star can throw enough material onto other stars to destabilize them and set more off, and so on:

"Have any of you heard of the Galactic Burst?"
A Taiidan researcher volunteered, "Ever since the collapse of the Empire, archeology has begun to reassert itself. A surprising discovery was that the Inner Rim planets experienced a large flux of radiation, one million years ago, probably caused by a chain reaction of supernovae. Surely you are not saying-"
"The Naggarok launchers deliberately set off a chain reaction of supernovae in the galactic core. It would only take a few to set all of them off. Most of the race in the galaxy did not have hyperdrive. When the radiation front arrived, they were doomed."
From Outside, chapter 13

They set off supernovae, dozens, hundreds...hard radiation raining on an entire galaxy. Killing.

The 079s, chapter 8, NC.

I could probably go on, but I'll stop. I hope this gives you some idea of my thought process in giving the B'qula and the Hiigarans the weapons they have.

2. Not all race are humanoid...
So many races, some can be insect, some can be reptiles, some might live in water, some might breathe nitrogen, and so on. Why all races in your story is humanoid? That difference could be made into interesting points. Such as that a part of console station should be permanently filled with water to compensate with water living species.
Well, actually, in chapter 13 of Outside,

"If the Naggarok launchers killed everyone who was here, then why are we here?"
"Because," Tasiin began. "Because, we are the Naggarok launchers. Genetically there are similarities in all species in the Galaxy, despite several outward differences. That is because we all descended from one species.
"One million years ago, our ancestors murdered hundreds of races. The kiith power struggles, the Taiidan civil war, even the Burning of Kharak...it is nothing compared to what we did one million years ago.
"Hiigaran, Taiidan, Turanic Raider, Kadeshi, Frrern, K'naldeq, Zaala, X'n, I'ao, even Bentusi and T-Mat... we are all one people who did perhaps the worst crime in the history of the Galaxy. Do you not understand? Everyone is guilty."
The B'qula killed off everyone else a million years ago, except for a few small pockets of resistance that were able to hide (The Tik, the 079s). They colonized the Galaxy, fell into a dark age for a few hundred thousand years, and then a hundred thousand years ago, several civilizations began re-emerging.
Those few pockets of resistance, by the way, are not humanoid - the Tik are insectoid, and the 079s I imagine as some dark shape lurking in shadows.
A million years is not much on an evolutionary time scale. Sure, they might be some outward differences in skin color, hair, number of digits, posture, some differentiation of the brain... But nothing really significant. Perhaps a few did some genetic engineering to themselves (the Turanics, in Don Armageddon's stories, of which there are a few referrences to in Outside and NC, are at least outwardly insect-like, and could be some genetically-engineered species), but I doubt that most would do anything significant before falling into the dark age - that might cause them to lose their "Purity".
So, probably 97% of the Galaxy shares 97% of the same DNA. There might be a few who are different enough to merit having a special section of the Council, but virtually all of the Council will be accessible by virtually all of the delegates.

3. No counter to the big bad guy’s tech?
Can any scientist from any race find a good idea again these stupid gravitational weapons? I for one could find one. Please go to NASA site and look for anti-gravitation generator. (Search anti-gravity) story wise, how did ship get out of gravity field of planets anyway, just amplify this thing, and you will be able to shield yourself against this weapon.
The B'qula gravitational weapon is not simply a matter of amplifying gravity or crushing ships. It is an oscillation, a set of waves, which compresses on one axis and stretches on another, and then stretches in the first direction and compresses in the second. Because it is a wave, one must set up a destructively interfering wave. The only way I can think of this happening is if the Hiigarans (or whoever) managed to get on the opposite side of the beam, and turn on and off their anti-gravity device in such a way as to create oscillations in the gravity field that oppose the gravity waves...It's like cancelling out a laser. You have to somehow get around the beam, measure the exact wavelength, amplitude, and polarity of the light waves, and send out a cancelling wave before it starts damaging the target. Not an easy feat. (Keep in mind that such waves travel at the speed of light, so the only way to know the wavelength, amplitude, and polarity is if it has already hit you and is probably damaging you.)
I imagine the B'qula would vary the waveform they use in the gravitational waves randomly so that it is impossible to predict what kind of waves are going to hit the target from any measurements from the previous
The only thing I can think of that could potentially reflect a gravity wave beam like the B'qula use is a domain wall, a sheet of particles with Planck density, which require conditions like those of the Big Bang to make, perhaps billions of years beyond anything the B'qula or the Galaxy have.

And about Ion cannon, you can simply positively charge your self and the ion beam will not do a thing.
We never see such a tactic used in Homeworld or Cataclysm, even with Bentusi or T-Mat ships, so I never really considered it. But even so...
Then the B'qula could use an ion beam with the reverse charge (perhaps using protons as a "H+" ion). They also have more than one ion cannon on their ships and so they could have one of each. That would be hard to defend against. They also could vary the polarity randomly so that it is impossible to predict which charge they are going to use.
Or they could simply overpower it. Give an ion enough speed and it will still have enough kinetic energy after climbing the potential spike to hit the enemy ship. The B'qula have more powerful engines then everyone else, and can use more power for weapons.
(Such a consideration could also apply to they hyperspace inhibitor fields they use - the field can simply overpower any attempts to escape.)

And this mighty galactic race could easily blow the bad guys because they could simply use partisan tactic on a very large front, because you can never be sure of where your enemy fleet pop out in your thousands of light year frontline.
Well, I'm not sure that light harassment strikes are not going to be enough to stop the B'qula.
First of all, the B'qula have really good sensors. It is very hard to sneak up on them. The Tik can do it because they have virtually no energy emissions when they are passively gliding; the Guardians could do it because they've been studying cloaking devices for a very long time. But I don't think anyone else could do it. So, let's say the Hiigarans set out to harass the B'qula. They find a B'qula fleet, come in weapons range - and oops, not only can the B'qula see them, but they are in B'qula weapons range. The big bad B'qula easily destroy the Hiigarans.
And arguably, the Tik are using such a strategy against the B'qula.
But I don't think its enough to simply destroy a few ships here, a few ships there. The B'qula did not conquer whole galaxy clusters by being stupid. They sent in thousands and thousands of ships. Behind them are probably support ships, shipyards, colony ships, etc (all certainly guarded by large B'qula warfleets). As the Galaxy falls, these support ships can move in over the outermost worlds, start harvesting, and building more ships. Crew isn't so much a factor - all of the fighters are drones, and even the Frigates and Destroyers probably have a crew of only a few, probably no more than two dozen. On the other hand, there are probably millions of B'qula waiting to recolonize the Galaxy, millions who would be happy to give their lives to Purify the Galaxy. Even a few percent of that group can probably crew the entire fleet. Besides, they almost certainly have cloning, and they'd have no moral objections to it, so within a few years they can have millions more B'qula. So, resources and crew are not really much of a problem. The B'qula, with their heavy technological advantage and high numbers, can simply fight a war of attrition, destroying any resistance they see, because they do a lot more damage to the enemy than the enemy does to them.

That was ALL my doubts, thanks very much for lifting them.
NO OFFENSE, by the way, NO OFFENSE, indeed !
You're welcome, and none taken.
I hope this explains several things that could seem implausible to new readers and give some idea as to what I've been thinking in inventing the story.

Dilber[TFC]

1st Apr 02, 11:49 AM

Good Job Reflection. This is possibly the best story I have ever read. I never knew so much thought went into a story. Keep up the good work. :) and I hope to see an outside 3 after this ;). I'm just using the title of the first so....

Dilber[TFC]

Cooker

1st Apr 02, 7:43 PM

I had given a deeper thought on your story, and I came up with something silly.
I think as a sci-fi maniac, you should have heard of nanometer assembly technology. This technology can be used to build living things out of basic material. So why they did not rebuild whoever died instead of crying over their dead body? And by the way, the nanometer assembly can also be used to repair a dead body.
The other aspect is the console can carry out a joint research program so that they would develop some mega weapon against the big bad guy. My idea of an partisan tactic is to attack the bad guy, but not his fleet, they could attempt to destroy or capture support, production, civic and scientific facility by infiltrating there line of defense, you can’t keep your eyes on a very large front, so a few could go though and wreck havoc on undefended systems. And yes, mega bombs work on fleets.

No offense ...
Thanks for your last reply

The Reflection

1st Apr 02, 8:56 PM

I think as a sci-fi maniac, you should have heard of nanometer assembly technology. This technology can be used to build living things out of basic material. So why they did not rebuild whoever died instead of crying over their dead body? And by the way, the nanometer assembly can also be used to repair a dead body.
I'm not sure the Bound, like the Zaala even have that nanotech. Such a device may prove far more complicated than it appears, with unforseen difficulties popping up - after all, do you see us using it to bring people back from the grave? Perhaps it could repair most of the body, but the brain itself is extremely complicated - many scientists doubt that we can ever understand how consciousness arises from it, never mind within the next few centuries. One might have to recreate every last synaptic connection in order to ensure that the brain came through unharmed - or else many memories and personality traits would be lost. It is also interesting to note that at present, the only way to record the brain in any fasion is a destructive process - it destroys the brain while recording it. Not something one would generally want to undergo, in the chance that nanotech could repair the brain in the future. So, to sum up, the brain is still a very mysterious organ, and I think it is reasonable to suppose that its mysteries couldn't be worked out enough by NC in order to reconstruct a person.
The Hiigarans probably have enough tech to rejuvenate bodies - with their deal with the Beast - but they don't necessarily have to share it with everyone else. Even today, most of those who post on the board probably have a life expectancy around 70, but much of the world population has a life expectancy of only 50 or less, and lack proper medical equipment. I'm not sure the Hiigarans would like to risk giving away evidence they are using Beast technology either.
Of course, the Zaala are a quite religious people, and even if they did have the technology to bring someone back from the dead. That would be pulling someone back from the start of godhood (as a Greater Elder) into their small, mortal life. Kaltar, for example, might be abhorred to see such a recreation of Latal, thinking she is soulless. (Even more so if the nanotech was not entirely successful in recreating the mind and Latal was just a zombie.)
(Of course, this kind of conversation can invoke the discussion of the existence of the soul. Since NC will be as neutral as I can make it, I will not argue either way here, but it could be brought up in discussing a work like Naggarok's Children...)
Finally...cutting death out of the story...well, it'd be kind of cheap. We all die sometime. Sure, we can put it off a while, but eventually it'll catch up to us. This is simply part of the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Whenever any process occurs that exchanges information between a system and the outside world, some part of the energy of the system is forever converted into a unusable form. If I drop a coffee cup filled with hot coffee on the floor, you will not be able to reconstruct it exactly as the way it was. Sure you could glue the pieces together again, and try to siphon the coffee back into the cup, and you might get something like the cup again; you could perhaps use nanotech and get something that looks very much like it was, but will you be able to recreate every last swirl in the coffee, recapture every last molecule, give every last atom the same spin it had before? The Second Law of Thermodynamics would say that it is virtually impossible.
Similarly, if I have Latal's body, I might be able to repair the damage caused by the metal wreckage that wounded her, and the major damage to the brain, but will I be able to recreate every last neuron, every last synaptic connection, every last minute electrical current that animated her mind? After only a few minutes without oxygen, it would begin dying, and many of the intricacies will be lost - forever. Even with nanotech, I think it would be an extremely formidable task, far too much trouble than it's worth.

Keep in mind the job of SF is not to explore every last possibility in every last story - if I did that I would bog down the story far too much to be readable. Rather, it deals with one possible path, one possible extrapolation, in a manageable form. In this case, I decided the Bound should not have enough tech to reanimate the dead (at least, not those as injured as Latal). Whether that is the most realistic scenario, I don't know, but it is a possible one. (There is a saying: "Science fiction deals with implausible possibilities, fantasy deals with impossible plausibilities.") I didn't mean NC to be prophecy, I just wanted it to show one possible outcome after the events of Outside - which were in turn one possibility from the events of Cataclysm, which was in turn one possibility from the events of Homeworld.

The other aspect is the console can carry out a joint research program so that they would develop some mega weapon against the big bad guy.
Who said they weren't?
They are working on developing super weapons, on cracking B'qula technology, on extrapolating their own technology to a formidable level. That is, more or less, the whole point of the "treasure hunt" of the beginning of NC. In some cases, these efforts have been met with some success - for example, the Hiigarans (and T-Mat) were able to get the Ghost Ship's technology working enough to use it on the B'qula; the Zaala were able to reverse engineer T-Mat technology enough to grow an armor-boosting skin on their ships. The larger efforts, however will take more time. In a few years, decades or centuries, the Council probably could start taking on the B'qula. But they don't have that much time - only a few months. The B'qula know this, and it is part of the reason they past many more outer worlds to attack Hiigara itself - to knock out the center of resistance, to severely cripple the logistical center of the Council.

My idea of an partisan tactic is to attack the bad guy, but not his fleet, they could attempt to destroy or capture support, production, civic and scientific facility by infiltrating there line of defense, you can’t keep your eyes on a very large front, so a few could go though and wreck havoc on undefended systems.
Well, the less war-oriented facilities are on the galactic rim, if not in satellite galaxies - which are now occupied by the B'qula. The facilities themselves are guarded by B'qula fleets - the fleets are not light years off, patrolling empty wastes of interstellar space, but over the captured homeworlds themselves, and around the logistical facilities of the B'qula. Much like one might guard one's resourcing operation in Homeworld with fighters stationed right next to the resourcers. In order to assault the logistical ships, though, the Council fleet would have to get past the B'qula ships, which would be firing at them. More than that, the B'qula hyperspace inhibitor fields, the generators of which are incoporated onto capital ships, would pull such a fleet out of hyperspace long before it could get in range of the logistical ships. (Remember in chapter 13 when the B'qula jumped in, they pulled the reserve Zaala fleet in with them; in chapter 7 even a small B'qula fleet hundreds of k'loms away prevented the Telana and Sannel's ship from jumping to hyperspace; in chapter 14 the hyperspace inhibitor fields from the B'qula fleet encompassed all of low orbit around the Zaala homeworld; so on.) The B'qula, who can split their attention and have good sensors (remember in Homeworld, everytime someone jumps in or out you get a "Hyperspace signature detected" message; if you have Proximity Sensors, whenever a ship approaches them, you hear "Proximity Alert!"), would notice the fleet being pulled out and destroy them. Even if the Council fleet did succeed in getting close enough and damage the logistical vessels... while they spent all of these days getting to the galactic rim and assaulting the B'qula, the B'qula are cruising along inside the Galaxy, burning world after world after world, destroying all of the Council's centers of opposition. I'm not sure the Council is willing to risk sending huge expeditions unless they are pretty sure that they can assault the B'qula logistical centers and that such assaults will cripple the B'qula severely or even stop their offensive entirely. No such possibility has revealed itself.

And yes, mega bombs work on fleets.
Except we never see them in Homeworld or Cataclysm - the Bentusi, for example, didn't use one when you were cutting off their route of escape as the Somtaaw. Therefore, it is possible that no such suitable weapon exists. (When we do see one such (intercepted) bomb detonate over the Zaala homeworld, it didn't do all that much to the B'qula - they have very strong armor, and the only real threat from a nuke in space would be gamma rays, with no air to burn - which B'qula ships are generally hardened against.)
Even if it did, there is the matter of cost - a teraton bomb, for example, would be prohibitively expensive. The Taiidan Empire, which had 150 inhabited star systems and much of the Galaxy under its iron fist might be able to make some; the Unbound Hiigarans of NC might be able to make more, but I don't think they are a light expense. Even the B'qula might only have a couple per inhabited world, and while they probably are making more, why bother wasting the ones you have? They are doing fine just using ion cannons and gravitational weapons, for the most part. Their greatest losses were in the Central Worlds, the heart of Hiigaran space - the very strongest resistsance their enemy has to offer. Against everyone else, they have been doing great. Sure, they might lose a few skirmishes here and there, but overall, they're probably winning 95% of the battles with conventional weapons.
And of course there is one more problem I can think of off the top of my head - the enemy can shoot down such a bomb (as the Zaala did in chapter 14.) If such weapons are fairly expensive, it might turn out to be better just to save up weapons until the fleets have no possibility of shooting them down - that is, after they are disabled or destroyed.

So, those are my answers.

Cooker

2nd Apr 02, 12:02 AM

I am not trying to irritate you, so if you don’t feel like it, don’t answer the questions. And Thanks for the reply. I would really like to see a reanimated Latal by the end of the story. That would be so outstanding.

I have a suggestion

Taiidan is quite a warlike race, losing the home world war and beast war did nothing to change them; I bet they would develop very lethal ships in 1,000,000 years. Such as antimatter missile destroyer, reparative siege cannon battleship and multi-beam fighters. Even without a great deal of technology, perfection though long time would make such weapons practical even against moth worthy foes. I think the bad guys will have their first face off at Taiidan prime. Even if they win, Taiidan maniac will ram their enemy with their home world, quite literally. You won’t be happy to see a planet shot at your fleet at close to light speed. LOL, I still remember what Taiidan rebel do in home world, they are so warlike that they just run right for the emperor mother ship …

Last question, Inertia less drive could be halted with hyperspace inhibitor field, that meant that Allied fleet can stop the bad guy’s Capital both ships and fighters by arming an inhibitor field on every ship. That would make most ships close to useless.

By the way, when is next chapter coming?

Cooker

2nd Apr 02, 12:22 AM

“After only a few minutes without oxygen, it would begin dying, and many of the intricacies will be lost - forever. Even with nanotech, I think it would be an extremely formidable task, far too much trouble than it's worth.”

If a delegate in galactic Council wants someone back, they will do it, no matter how difficult; scientists are often subject to political situations.

I would like the story to be different from others, with some sci-fi flavor, BTW ...

nickersonm

8th Apr 02, 7:06 PM

Wow, 2 new amazing chapters since I read it last! Keep up the great work!

Edric O

20th Apr 02, 4:14 AM

Looking for a new place to haunt, I reminded myself of this forum - and my unfinished business here: reading NC. :)

Your writing is magnificent as always, Reflection. Now you have me pinned in front of the computer catching up on my NC reading. If I burn my eyes it will all be your fault! ;)

I haven't read all the new chapters yet, but I have a theory and I'm curious whether it's true or not: I think that by burning K’Basal, the B'qula destroyed their own homeworld. It would be the ultimate irony, wouldn't it?

And one thing I'm sure of is that weapons (conventional or otherwise) will not defeat the B'qula...

Hey, it's what fans do: theorize on what happens next. :)

The Reflection

4th Jun 02, 11:46 AM

I do believe I have let this gone too long without an update.
I sincerely hope I start updating more frequently than once every ten weeks.
Well, that was the bad news.
The good news is that I actually have two chapters done - and they are long. The first, number 17, I actually had done towards the end of April - but I wanted to get working on 18 right away, and I figured that would only take a week. And we all know what happens when I think something like that, right? ;) Anyway, towards the end of May, I managed to finish 18, and I have finally finished typing both up. They are here for your reading pleasure.
Still better news - they are long. Chapter 17 is something like 10,700 words. Chapter 18 is a little over 13,000 words (there shouldn't be any other monsters of that size until the final two chapters). So, in all, you have 24,000 words to read - more than half the length of Outside. Of course, chapter 18 was the longest in Outside too.
And just to give you an idea of what is happening to the lengths of the chapters:
http://members.aol.com/wstar345/NCchapterlength.gif
Even better news - in the time that I was typing up these two chapters, I finished 19. I will be going to Washington DC over the weekend, so I will not be able to type it up, but I do plan on getting most of 20 done on that trip - and perhaps even start 21. So you will not have to wait another two months for the next update.

And now I get to sift through all of the comments.

we......live.........
It just keeps getting better and better. A showdown in the making for thousands(millions?) of years.
*wonders if it'll work twice* Mooooorrrrrrreeee!!!!!! hehehehe.
At the moment, that particular showdown is on hold. But, don't worry... something has been in the making for thousands of years, definitely.

I mean, no howls for my head for creating such a horrible creation as the Beast Tarl? And none for Brian's head for infesting the Hiigarans with Beast themselves? *chuckle* And there's even *worse* to come. There is the Final Dark Secret.
Which is... a secret.
I never said the Third Great Secret was Dark. Of course, when have they ever been nice and reassuring?
There are hints of it in the update - but you will not learn what it is until a little later. NC is coming to the point where I have introduced most of the puzzle pieces, some have been put together, and one can start to see the shape of the gaps. But there will be a few more interesting things to come.

Which is why I still want to see the end of cata fleet intel. *cough*
Yeah, Xellos! ;)

Good Job Reflection. This is possibly the best story I have ever read. I never knew so much thought went into a story. Keep up the good work. and I hope to see an outside 3 after this . I'm just using the title of the first so....
Thank you, Dilber! Yes, a novel takes a lot of thought - perhaps more than proportional to a short story. I have heard a typical novel takes 12 to 18 months to write - and NC is going to be a long one; I estimate its final length to be over 150,000 words (It's already at 107,000). So, it does take a lot of work and thought. But it can be very rewarding.

As far as a third epic...I don't think I have the energy to write an Outside 3. For one, it would probably be 750,000 words long at the rate I'm going. ;) Secondly, NC will be - as far as I can tell - the chronological end of the Outside universe. I'm not sure I'd have anything to say about what happens later - the ending should resolve much. Thirdly, I am planning to begin my own original universe. That would make it much easier to start publishing. Already I have come up with several ideas, and it looks like its going to be a fun one to write in - I fear that if I started a third epic in this universe, I'd just lose interest and it would be abandoned. That doesn't rule out the possibility of shorter stories, though - I can think of a few interesting ideas there. Whatever is the case, I will keep on writing, though.

I have a suggestion
Taiidan is quite a warlike race, losing the home world war and beast war did nothing to change them; I bet they would develop very lethal ships in 1,000,000 years. Such as antimatter missile destroyer, reparative siege cannon battleship and multi-beam fighters. Even without a great deal of technology, perfection though long time would make such weapons practical even against moth worthy foes. I think the bad guys will have their first face off at Taiidan prime. Even if they win, Taiidan maniac will ram their enemy with their home world, quite literally. You won’t be happy to see a planet shot at your fleet at close to light speed. LOL, I still remember what Taiidan rebel do in home world, they are so warlike that they just run right for the emperor mother ship
Well, on the other hand, it has been 12,500 years...that's enough time for the Kushan to exile the Taiidan for 4,000 years while they rule an empire, and the Taiidan to come back and exile the Kushan again for another 4,000 years while they rule an empire again, and then for the Kushan to come back permanently and grow Unbound. In the last few thousand years, we've seen countless empires and nations and wars and philosophies and ideas come and go - so it's hard to say what kind of people the Taiidan will be after all of that time. In Homeworld and Cataclysm, the Taiidan we see were all raised during the Empire's reign, and so were probably somewhat fanatical in their loyalty and drive. (I do not even really have any idea whether the Taiidan we see in NC are descended from the Republic, the Imperials, or if the two sides came together - that'll probably have to wait to HW2, or beyond, to get any sort of idea.)
We've also seen evidence of stagnation in the Homeworld universe - the Taiidan did not develop much advanced technology after 4,000 years as one of the larger empires in the Galaxy - their toughest weapons were mines, ion cannons, and plasma bombs. Nothing the Kushan couldn't beat (with some help from the Bentusi). That was for a variety of reasons - the Empire stagnated scientific development. Besides, aside from the Bentusi, T-Mat, and other Unbound races, there was no real competition - just a few revolts here and there, and for that, you can always just send in the troops. If things got really bad, they always could try burning a world, and that'd probably quiet any rebellion. No need to develop any further.
While the circumstances are different - much more friendlier - the Hiigarans and Taiidan do not have much competition. As I said, they do not really know when - if at all - the Naggarok launchers are coming, and surely whatever weapons they had would be sufficient. Besides working on super weapons might trigger an arms race - and given the responsibilites of being the most powerful races the Council, that is the last thing the Hiigarans and Taiidan would want. A cold war between hundreds of worlds across the Galaxy is not something easy to manage. They were doing all right until the B'qula showed up.
You can rest assured, though, that the Taiidan are fighting the B'qula, doing as much good as the Hiigarans, probably. It's just that we do not see most of those battles. (Similarly, I'm sure the Hiigarans and Taiidan do have more ships then we are seeing - like battleship-class vessels - I just never showed them.)
(Just out of curiousity, I calculated how much energy and power it would take to accelerate a planet to relativistic speeds. I had a spreadsheet for such calculations since I wanted to find out the maximum size of a relativistic projectile that was feasible as a weapon for the Kaaltow. The answer turned out to be roughly equal to the mass-energy of the planet itself, and the power something like that produced by all the stars in the Milky Way. I'm afraid a planet is not a feasible weapon for the Taiidan - they can try smaller asteroids, like the Headshot Asteroid in Homeworld - but that could only hurt a few ships at a time.)

If a delegate in galactic Council wants someone back, they will do it, no matter how difficult; scientists are often subject to political situations.
True, but the laws of physics generally are not subject to political situations. The Second Law of Thermodynamics would make the reversal of death virtually impossible. Once Latal is dead, it would take an extreme effort - well beyond the Zaala's capability to bring her back to life. Yes, you might be able to bring her back to life with sufficient effort, but on the other hand, you might be able to count the exact number of bacteria living on Earth, but the effort is not worth it. Even if I stuck a gun to a scientist's head, I doubt he or she would be able to defy the Second Law of Thermodynamics.
(And, of course, there is the fact that the Zaala are a fairly religious people - they might view such reanimation an atrocity, including Kaltar. So, in the end, one has to consider that Kaltar does not want her back - not in that way, at least.)

Last question, Inertia less drive could be halted with hyperspace inhibitor field, that meant that Allied fleet can stop the bad guy’s Capital both ships and fighters by arming an inhibitor field on every ship. That would make most ships close to useless.
I decided fairly early on that the B'qula were immune to their own hyperspace inhibitor fields, and that they can just overpower anything the Hiigarans could do. Keep in mind, they worship hyperspace; it's at the center of their existence. So, they know a lot more about it - and how to inhibit their enemies from using it and how to avoid such obstacles like hyperspace inhibitor fields - then the Council races. It's only when they run into really large, dedicated inhibitor stations - like the ones guarding Hiigara - that they really run into any problems. The stations generating those fields (and the massive gravwell they used against them at Hiigara) are much bigger than the typical ship, and they do not need to provide power for drives or vast weaponry or even life support. (Part of the problem for the B'qula was also that they were bringing a planet-destroyer along, and the thing is so massive that it can't spare the power to overpower the great inhibitor fields surrounding Hiigara. It wasn't that it would stop any of the smaller ships.)

I hope that answers your questions.

Ah, one of the advantages of being the forum Archivist, and being paranoid is that I have the replies from the short-lived php boards here.

Actually, there *is* one other race out there doing what you are suggesting - hit and run tactics. But I'm unsure if Brian is actually going to use them outside of mentioning them briefly (that being the Tangent). And they, as a species, have been building up new technologies and the like. However, their main problems are this.
First, the leader of the Tangent has, for the past 10,000+ years, been directing them toward a policy of avoidance. Only the most rebellious and warlike of the Tangent have actually attacked the B'qula.
Second, the Tangent do not colonize worlds. Part of that whole avoidance policy, if you don't have a planet of people, you don't have to worry about people blowing it up or invading.
I could go into details about technologies and the like, and how they use dirty tricks to defeat the B'qula fleets they sucker into ambushes... but again, I don't know if Brian has any plans for them. My *own* plans about telling the Tangents tale is delayed until the end of NC, so that I don't end up interfering with his story. Also, I still have to finish the Fleet Intelligence: Cataclysm logs. :twisted:

Well, Cooker, there is one other thing.
Brian has had the ending of this story in mind for a while now. It has a beginning, a middle, and an end. We have seen the beginning and middle, the end is coming near. That ending will not be because of a super race saving the day. It will not change because one of us suggests something new or fascinating. And for all of the discussions I have had with Brian, and the ideas we have bandied back and forth, nothing I have said or suggested has caused Brian's vision to falter or shift course.
Instead, there has been growth. Yes, the 'Tik have appeared in several chapters, as have the Beast Tarl in the latest. But for all of these things... it is still Brian's vision. And all of the Beast fleets and alien insectoids and... others will not alter that vision. Just add color to it.
Thus... while you have some ideas... I don't think the Taiidan are going to be the people to "save" the galaxy. In fact, I suspect that in the end... you will see the rest of the galaxy fall to the B'qula, and only the remnents survive. Well, there will be more than just that. *snicker* But I don't want to have my guesses ruin the surprise.
I suggest you sit back and relax, enjoying the spectacle. Brian will update when he does. And the story will continue when it does. What the rest of us say or do will not change things tremendously. If at all.
Yes, the ending is planned out. In fact - with parts of chapter 17 onward, you are seeing the most ancient parts of the story of NC. Some of it was even invented before I ended Outside. The story is finally reaching its ending, and its ancient core. There is a definite direction I am going here - one that, as Xellos has said, has remained fairly constant. Not that I have never been influenced - my conversations with Xellos have helped me write the beginning and middle of the story, when I have been strained for ideas.

Thank you, nickersonm.

I haven't read all the new chapters yet, but I have a theory and I'm curious whether it's true or not: I think that by burning K’Basal, the B'qula destroyed their own homeworld. It would be the ultimate irony, wouldn't it?
I'm going to assume you've read up to chapter 14 by now.
Whoa, that would be ironic!
The Bitalq - trying to be peaceful - luring the B'qula into burning their own homeworld. And the Bitalq Leader trying to get revenge against the B'qula for it.
I'm afraid K'Basal is not the B'qula homeworld. It is, however, one the more inner worlds. They do know a lot about the Quest's history and their origins. They are, so to speak, not at the center of the B'qula, but they were in the inner circle. Which is why the B'qula are so distrubed by them - even though, militarily, their technology is probably some of the weakest they have ever encountered.
Except for that staff. I think that is from the original B'qula, from the time of the Naggarok. It's way beyond anything the Bitalq could produce - and I have a feeling it's at the limit of what the B'qula could do. In fact, I do have an interesting idea of what it was originally designed for...but I can't say it right now. ;)
Also the languages - part of the reason I invented the Bitalq prayer language is so that I could write B'qula with confidence. The langauges are very similar.
In chapter 13, in the B'qula message to the Council, they say:
"...Af-ush-O'mat af-ush-Tala'bkula-o'hel..."
The corresponding Bitalq would be something like:
"...Af-um-omes af-us-Tbkital-ohel..."
Or thereabouts (which means something to the effect of "No Impure will escape"). Similarly, much of the vocabulary is the same (Hyperspace is D'lact/Dlak; Quest is N'grak/Naqek; Impure is Tala'bkula/Tbkital).
(Keep in mind, though, that the prayer language was preserved and is not the language spoken by the Bitalq for everyday conversation amongst themselves - it is too rigid and the sentences are a little too long for that. While it can convey the worship of Dlak well, it would not be useful for technical details.)
And of course, I deliberately gave them somewhat similar appearences - grey skin, dark eyes, white clothing.
But to be honest, I didn't invent much of the mystique and feel surrounding the Bitalq until chapter 11 or so; I just had them in chapter 2 to show the B'qula were bad; and I did know the Bitalq Leader would try sabotaging the B'qula ship later on - but I thought they all wanted revenge. But most of the details were invented much later on.

Anyway, I do believe I have gone on long enough. Now it's time for the real part of the update - chapters 17 and 18.
Enjoy.

The Reflection

4th Jun 02, 11:48 AM

17
Storms on the Brink
…We are in a grave position. No one can know. If we reveal the agreement, we would lose all authority in the Galaxy. We are Hiigarans, and we are not going to let the Council take away all that we fought for. But if anyone finds out about the deal…the entire Council will be united against us. We must prevent them from learning. Quarantine the Tarl sector, make it illegal to enter it, use whatever force is necessary…We have an enormous responsibility and obligation to the Hiigarans, and we must do whatever we can to uphold it…even if it means firing on our own ships.

Classified message, attributed to Hiigaran faction

Dreamily, Sannel found her way back to the Council station. She tried not to think of what had happened, of what she had done. There was only the motion, and hyperspace, and the blankness. It was her only hope of calm, of not losing herself.
Sannel.
Junan had interrupted her solitude. She tried not to feel angry or happy. After all, she did not care about herself anymore.
Yes?
He hesitated. …I wanted to know…that you were doing well.
Sannel sighed.
Are you?
I don’t know, Sannel said without emotion. I don’t care, she thought.
I thought so. Junan fixed his attention on her. We will have to- Part of his mind was shifted away from her, and Sannel probed with her sensors.
An anomaly was approaching them, a ship, black, stealthy, Hiigaran. It carried no beacons or markings, sent no acknowledgements to her. It neared, k’loms away. It appeared to be a destroyer, with far more firepower than her ship could withstand.
Who are you? she asked wearily.
The interloper charged its weapons. Sannel did not want to fight them. This was what she deserved.
A jumbled ship with a Kaaltow signature – one she had seen before – suddenly was by her ship with a flash of bluish light, an extension aimed at the interloper. Sannel needed a moment to realize what had happened – it had dropped out of fourth level trans-hyperspace, beyond her perception. The destroyer spun to engage the Kaaltow, but it was too late. It fired a projectile with a powerful mass driver into the interloper’s, which shuddered, fragmented. She heard the soliloquies of the interloper fade into the song of hyperspace.
The distorted Kaaltow ship hovered for a moment, and with a great energy spike, jumped to fourth-level hyperspace, higher than virtually all Bound ships could achieve. Sannel had only been there once, her ship unable to sustain it for long, and knew it was different, the song stronger, more permeating, virtually impossible to block out. She decided not to bother investigating it.
What…what were they? What happened?
The Kaaltow ship…we know there are several of them like that, and we know they stop nowhere. They only attack when they believe it serves their Visions…the others say it is crewed by loners, by…
-The Lost, Sannel finished, unwilling to contemplate it. I was…they saved me… She could not accept it.
…The other one, I have never even heard of. In some ways, it seemed like our ships… but my ship tells me there were strange life signs from it, as if…I believe it employs some kind of Beast technology…perhaps, in a way, a hybrid. I suspect they knew that we know. Junan paused. Why did you do it?
It. She remembered now, the Beast in their bodies and ships, the asteroidal shipyard, the unrelenting control of the Beast, the pain. She let out a cry, involuntarily, seized by the memory. The despair of it all, the pointlessness. Sannel locked her arms around her body, letting her grip drive into her body, forced her to breath steadily and controlled. I…what…what else could I do?
We would have found a way to escape. Glaan is not happy-
-Glaan…is that the name of the other Guardian? Sannel asked, trying to shift the conversation away. The pain still blazed in her mind.
Yes.
You never told me.
…Still, we will have to deal with the consequences when we return to the Council.
The despair dulled. I am cold. And tired. I need to sleep.
Junan did not try to bother her.

The new Council station was in orbit around a brown and grey world, an insignificant colony of the Lu, a rather reclusive Bound race who rarely drew attention to themselves. This new station was much smaller than the old one, much less elegant and grateful. It was the center of planning, the bare essentials, nothing more. A large fleet was stationed around it, almost as if the station itself were a homeworld.
The Telana slid into dock, and Kaltar left, taking the vial, blanket, and a copy of the files on the Tarl that he had made as soon as they had left. Guards searched him and questioned him about the vial. The war, entering a desperate phase, was driving everyone paranoid. After a few answers, the guards were satisfied, and let him past.
A holographic image of a Hiigaran delegate appeared, and Kaltar inwardly shuddered at the thought that he too carried the Beast within him. The delegate, though, was not self-conscious, unaware of the truth. “I will lead you to your quarters. Do not complain about them. We may search them, if you are planning to sabotage the station. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any questions?
“Yes. I need to speak with Delegate Takell, as soon as possible.”
“He is busy-”
“-It cannot wait. I must speak with him.”
“He has other matters-”
“-It is about the Tarl’tkinsa star system. Tell him…we found something.”
The Hiigaran paused. “He will speak with you once we arrive,” he said. “Follow.”

“Did you know?” Kaltar demanded.
“I had – suspicions – that some things were secret,” Takell answered. “In retrospect, I can see how it fits together. But I did not know.”
“You did not know,” Kaltar repeated skeptically. He paced around, back and forth, turned on Takell. “How can you say that? You know more than anyone else everything that happens in the Galaxy! And what was that ‘No, I don’t want you to tell you how we’re going to find and recapture Sannel’ about-“
Takell had been searching his memory, containing his anger. “I am not omniscient. Nor do I wish to spend all of my time explaining every facet of Hiigaran technology to anyone who asks. It was an Unbound sense, one that is difficult to describe, and one that is an internal matter…I even though you would see the irony in it…But recently you have not exactly been known for your sense of humor.”
Kaltar glared at Takell.
“I am sorry, but…I cannot be what you expect me to be.”
Takell still didn’t get the main issue. “How can you…how can you condone it? The Beast, its technology…the fact that your race dealt with it…It’s inexcusable.”
“Of course it is. Do you believe this does not anger me? Do you think I do not know what the Beast is?”
“It’s an atrocity, that’s what!” Kaltar yelled, trembling with anger. “How can you even look at yourself-“
“Myself? Delegate – look at yourself. For the past four and a half years, you have been haunted, angry with everyone. You even killed someone out of bloodlust. I forgave it – after all, you were pushed beyond your limits, but even so, you still did it.”
“This is about technology, not-“
“-Technology, I know. Yet your own fleet now uses T-Mat technology. The same T-Mat who killed your wife. The same T-Mat you despise at every moment. While you pretend to be righteous with me, you ride in ships covered with the same technology that killed her! When you begin questioning your own people – when you start seeing your ships as covered in the blood of your wife, then I will begin to worry about our millennia-past deal with the Beast. Not before!”
Takell himself was shaking, visibly. He closed his eyes, pressed a palm into his forehead. Kaltar had never seen him like this. Takell was never this angry.
Kaltar realized he was crying. Takell was right. He had no right to curse the Hiigarans like this when he himself was guilty of the same crime.
“I…I am sorry…sorry that I bothered you…”
Takell shook his head. “…The secret…it is obviously not something that I like to face after so much time not knowing…After this war, if…we are still around, I will make sure it is answered for. But now is not the time to dwell on it. The war…half of the Galaxy wants to forget defense and launch an offensive, a war of attrition – as if we were not already fighting one, the other half protests and demands that we use all of our fleets to defend them, and a few just want to leave the Galaxy entirely. We need to survive, not tear each other apart with accusations.”
As Kaltar thought about it, Takell continued.
“It may be that this secret is just part of the forgotten past, with none of us knowing the truth. If that is the case, we will reveal it, and it will be dealt with – after the war.”
Kaltar looked at Takell. “I know you don’t believe that. What if someone is still out there, hiding this?”
“Then you will need every ally you can get. It is certain they will try to silence you. If you – or Sannel – are seen as expendable…”
“How do I know that you are not part of such a conspiracy?”
Takell was amused. “You would have been killed long before now, then…For most of my tenure at the Council, I have sensed there were secrets and groups that ran contrary to the goals of the Council. Groups that constantly manipulate, trying to achieve their own agendas-”
“-Like the Kaaltow,” Kaltar finished.
“Perhaps, yes. Also the group you have mentioned occasionally as ‘guardians.’ The Bitalq’s previous leader. Every time I speak with the Tangent, I know they are up to something – sometimes they seem to look at us like pawns to be sacrificed at will. There is the T-Mat…they have always been that way. If it is possible, I would rather that it would all stop – and if the war ends and the Council is still intact, I will do whatever I can to help you bring out this secret.”
“Why would it matter to you?”
“Because, when all of these forces keep trying to hold power, they are taking it away from us, the Council. Until it is all in the open, there can be no true fairness. If the Council is truly to speak for the Galaxy, it must do so without its will being constantly subverted or overridden.”
“What, then, do you suggest we do?”
“We will arrange to send some guards – loyal ones, who will not be bribed – to your quarters to prevent anyone from attacking you. We will also have one be with you at all times. Tomorrow’s Council meeting…you may have to speak about this; until then, I recommend that you keep a low profile, and do not tell anyone else – or else you may attract the wrong attention.”
Kaltar did not want to keep it a secret for even a day longer, but practically, he did not have a choice. He would do what he could the next day. “Why are you letting me speak tomorrow, though? Wouldn’t you rather deal with this later?”
“Yes…but tomorrow is…Cooperating with the Beast is viewed as one of the worst crimes possible. You had no real participation in the decision, but Sannel…it’s an obscure rule, dating back millennia, but…”
Kaltar waited for him to finish.
“It can be seen as a capital offense. I have been instructed to try Sannel. Undoubtedly, any conspirators will try to sentence her. It is foolish, inhumane, and obviously part of a hidden agenda. Now is not the time for this, and we cannot spare anyone. I cooperate only because I fear some might take matters into their own hands – perhaps send her to a military tribunal, even though she is a member of the Council, and we have final jurisdiction – or just simply attack her.”
“You will protect Sannel, correct?”
“I will do everything in my power.”
“Thank you…” Kaltar said. “I apologize for my earlier outburst. I…do not want to see her hurt from this.”
“Then I suppose we are not all monsters.”
“No.”
“We will speak again. May this all turn out for the best.”

Closing the channel to Delegate Kaltar, Takell now found Sannel’s ship, orbiting higher up, solitary. He projected over a part of his awareness, a little self-conscious of how the process was working. Sannel did not say anything in reaction.
He felt sorry for her, angry that he had to do this. I have been instructed to…detain and try you before the Council. You have been charged with aiding the Beast, a form of treason, among various other crimes. You must remain within twenty thousand kilometers of the planet or face immediate punishment. You may speak before the Council upon the trial or remain silent. Do you understand?
Sannel did not answer.
Do you understand? The trial cannot proceed unless you understand your rights.
Sannel lingered for a moment. Yes.
Good. The trial is set for tomorrow at the Council meeting. You and delegate Kaltar may testify. The representatives will decide your guilt.
Sannel did not seem to care.
I…am sorry this happened to you. I am willing to speak on your behalf.
I do not want help, she replied.
You will be needing it. Too many believe the Beast is capable of no good…even if what you found was not the Beast. Even more importantly, there may be some of our own people against you who are willing to…make sure the secret does not come out.
It does not matter.
Takell was becoming frustrated. Aiding the Beast is a serious charge. The ancient rules – which were meant as a way to declare war on those who might betray us all – are still vague enough to allow for a punishment of death.
Icy coldness radiated from her. It does not matter.
Have you understood anything I have just said? If the Council is convinced – or bribed or threatened or lured – to vote that you are guilty, you could be killed! Even if they vote the crime requires a lighter sentence, others could take it for themselves to murder you, and no one will really care. Your life is at stake.
Sannel did not bother to answer.
Do you care at all about this?
No.
Why not? Do you want to die?
The silence that came afterwards was disturbing.
Yes, she finally answered.
Takell did not reply for some time. I…I will call for a counselor.
No.
You cannot say that and expect me not to do something.
You are busy. The Galaxy needs you…You spoke of sacrifice for the sake of the Galaxy. I can do without help.
That seemed false – from the dimmed darkened sight of Sannel’s aura to Takell, he knew she was disturbed. Was this about martyrdom? Did she, finding no opportunity to attack the B’qula, want this to be her cause?
I know there is something you are not telling me.
Sannel did not deny it, as Takell figured.
You did not help Kaltar after he – after the incident. The war is even more desperate now. There is no reason for you to help me.
Perhaps, he thought. This certainly did not seem right, though, knowingly abandoning someone. His people had to do it countless times – with the outer worlds of the Galaxy, keeping their fleets near Hiigara for a defense that did not even work. The defense had provided shelter to the refugees and allowed them enough time to escape, but still so many had died. Takell always felt guilty, self-doubts, disappointment in himself and the Galaxy. Must one person always die for each that lived? Couldn’t some, those in the Council, be saved? He did not want to begin to have to face deaths in the Council – by its own hands.
But realistically, he could not do too much. Help – physical and mental – was stretched far beyond its capacity.
Will you face the Council?
I have no choice, Sannel replied.
Will you or will you not?
I will.
Good. At least there was her word, whatever that was worth; at least there was the possibility that she would force herself to stay. Takell had the feeling that if he had to send a ship after Sannel, only debris from her ship would ever be recovered. Here, though, any skirmishes would be immediately visible. You should prepare for the trial…Do not do anything rash.
Takell did not expect her to answer, nor did she have any want to.
We will speak again.

“eq aq-aleq aq-et-Dlak-ot-shek op-er-um-mfak-et-sal
“eq aq-halob aq-op-et-Dlak-ot-shek aq-ep-Luvek op-er-um-mfak-et-sal
“eq aq-haket aq-op-et-Dlak-ot-shek op-ep-um-mfak-et-sal…”
The litany of the Bitalq echoed and re-echoed down the thin corridors, the sound reverberating and reflecting so it was easily heard meters away.
Kaltar had learned enough of the Bitalq to know it was a series of prayers to hyperspace, or as they called it, Dlak. He at least was comfortable now they were not speaking of revenge or hatred. He could not imagine what it would be like to live in their world, where they did not feel it, or every such impulse could be tempered by their beliefs. His had barely lasted four and a half years before succumbing.
But the Bitalq felt responsible for him, trying to atone for whatever hurt their leader had caused him. Never mind that it was ultimately him that had committed the act. Never mind that there were plenty of others who needed help.
Now, though, Kaltar really would need help. He had, as Takell advised, not told anyone, not the guards, not his Elders; he had not even spoken about it with Sannel since coming back or Takell since their confrontation. He did his best to control his feelings for at least the day, so that he would be less suspicious. Still, he had to assume that he was already a target for any who wished to keep the Hiigarans’ involvement with the Beast a secret.
The Bitalq paused in their ritual and turned around.
“We told you that you were not ready to go where you have now gone.”
Kaltar approached them. “There was darkness in that system…Not what I expected.” His guard must not have much idea of what he was talking about, and that was probably for the better. Still, we are in danger. “I learned things…that I probably should not have…”
“But have you learned?” the sheklob asked.
“If that place taught me something, then it is probably that no one is untouched by evil.” I really should not have said that, he scolded himself retrospectively. “My safety is endangered now.”
“This concerns you.”
“I may be killed at any moment. That does often have the effect of unnerving me.”
“Yet your people believe that life is the beginning of the journey. If it truly is your time to take the next step, then why are you so afraid?”
“I am not afraid. But I honestly…It is not for us to decide when to give up – that is for the Greater Elders. I do not feel that I am ready and that I have fulfilled my duty.” Actually, he knew, that was not exactly true. He felt that he had long since passed learning, that he had already done anything worthwhile that might come of him. What purpose the Greater Elders could have was beyond him.
“It is a common feeling, not to understand. We do not understand all that has happened either. Nor is it rare to fear death. But both of our peoples believe that all is not as it appears. You have learned what you have learned for a reason, though you do not know what it is. You must understand from the lessons.”
“It is not just me that I am worried about. Sannel…she is also in great trouble. The Council is going to try her for…I cannot explain. But I believe there are those who will rig the trial so that she is killed.”
“Does she not have a place in the order?”
“She does not believe in such things. She will not be comforted.”
“You believe that makes her different.”
“I am not sure. I am not sure of anything about her anymore.”
The Bitalq took his hands, the grey skin feeling surprisingly warm and soft. “She has her role, whether she knows it or not. You have yours, whether you know it or not. If she dies it will not be for nothing.” Nor had Latal’s, but whereas that did not seem to comfort him, the Bitalq’s words did.
“Do you…have any idea of what is to come for her?”
“Some are less conducive to Visions than others.”
They did not know either.
“Visions are only possibilities. It is for us to fulfill them – or prove them wrong. If you want to save her, and it is the will of Dlak to save her, she will be saved.”
“I do not believe she can.”
“Do you want to save her?”
“Obviously-“
“Then that is what matters. It is the attempt that characterizes you, not the result.”
The sheklob released his hands. Kaltar considered it. He had always considered himself a failure with Sannel. But if the Bitalq was right, if he had honestly meant good for her, then it was irrelevant. He had to try to stop the insanity, just as the Galaxy had to try to stop the B’qula.
“Thank you…I should leave and speak with my Elders and let you…continue.”
The Bitalq glided past him and Kaltar went back to his quarters, the guard following closely, another waiting at his door.
His room barely had enough space to display a holographic projection of a person, enough to make Kaltar uncomfortable speaking with a few other delegates. Now, though, it did not matter – he would speak with his Elders, convince them to do something about the situation.
“Contact Great Elder Kelak.”
After a few moments, he was connected.
“Delegate,” the Elder warily began, at a loss. “In the future, you may wish to schedule transmissions. I am fortunately not doing anything of real importance now, and there is more flexibility now that the Arks are all that we have left…Although I have heard there is quite a bit of controversy surrounding you.”
“There is, and I apologize for not following protocol.” Not that he ever did anymore. “We were sent on a mission to investigate a legend on the way out here. There was some truth behind the legend and we barely got out – I cannot say much on an open channel, but…I believe there are individuals who would rather certain facts I learned there not come out.”
“We have heard some of this. Presiding Delegate Takell of the Council contacted us earlier. He mentioned there would be a trial tomorrow.” She looked at him sternly.
“Yes. I am not the one being tried. However, a Hiigaran who was there with me and who happens to be an acquaintance of mind is being held responsible for certain activities there.”
“You have mentioned this Hiigaran before, I seem to remember.”
“Yes,” confirmed Kaltar. “She accompanied me during the search through our space for derelicts. She proved useful as an aide then.”
Some recognition came onto the Great Elders’ face, but Kaltar did not like the distrust that accompanied it. “Some of those with contacts in the Council have mentioned one or two rumors – that she has committed treason.”
A flare of anger ran up through Kaltar. “Much of what is said about her is undoubtedly false. I know her better than – than…they do. She did no harm.”
“…What is it that you wished to speak of?”
Calming himself down, Kaltar began, “I wanted to tell you myself that this was happening. I also wanted to inform you that I will be speaking in the trial tomorrow.” The Elder seemed a little displeased, but he continued. “I also believe that we will need help.”
“The Council should be able to protect you far better than we can.”
“This time…the Council might be powerless.”
“Surely the Hiigarans can assist you better,” protested Kelak. “They must have some idea of what is going on, and they are the most powerful in the Council. They have led the war, after all.” When Kaltar did not speak, underwhelmed, she added, “How else could they lead the Galaxy if not through wisdom and strength?”
Kaltar could not help it. He let out a bitter laugh, as if it was one of the most absurd thing he had ever heard of. Someday I am going to have to pay for that. Quickly, he tried to recover, saying, “I was reminded of an amusing joke told to me by a Hiigaran once, about being the leaders of the Council.” Neither of them believed it.
“The Hiigarans,” he explained, “Are themselves mostly unaware of what is happening. They are stretched thin and will not be able to provide meaningful support.”
“What do you want from us?” the Great Elder asked skeptically.
“…We will need ships. The Telana, I fear – someone may try to tamper with hit. We do not need a lot, just a few, so long as they escort it, and they are powerful enough to discourage attacks or ‘accidents.’ Preferably, they would have the T-Mat technology upgrade…” He was making it up as he went along, but now a plan began to form in his mind. He developed it as he spoke, becoming more convinced of it. Kaltar was sure not to betray his real intentions, being careful and composed now, summoning all of his skills to appear as if he was taking reasonable precautions against a few radicals, instead of betraying his knowledge of a Hiigaran conspiracy. His intentions he kept hidden, but inside they delighted him. The secret would come out and Sannel would be safe.

Stressfulness ran along Glaan’s ship, like pain in his body. The Guardians were in turmoil over what was happening. Glaan had returned to Sannel hoping to reestablish a stability for her, after what had happened with Selta. But the Beast Tarl’tkinsa had just eliminated an chance of returning to what was before. Selta, her ship still crippled, had wanted Sannel immediately expelled upon hearing the news. A rather large fraction of the Guardians supported the idea. Glaan knew that dealing with the Beast could not go unpunished but he knew that Sannel did not understand the enormity of the situation. A few Guardians seemed to support her – after all, the Tarl had acted greatly different from the Beast, and the Line had its root in Tasiin himself. Glaan conferred and debated with Tolkan and Selta endlessly; no solutions had been found yet.
Even so, a far more menacing problem loomed in the short-run. The Guardians preferred to work in secret, to observe, and carefully adjust without anyone knowing. But Glaan felt faint sensations of something else, working to keep the secret. With the others working against them, sooner or later a confrontation was inevitable. If it was a typical battle, there would be little problem – they could simply induce Dreams in the others. Glaan and others had slipped in and out of the Hiigaran system with relatively no problems, even as the B’qula were attacking. But from inference – and the ship that tried to attack Sannel in hyperspace, Glaan knew their rivals had access to Beast technology, and perhaps could even manipulate Hiigaran technology. In a battle, their Dream ships could be disabled or destroyed.
The Hiigaran fleet would be similarly disabled – assuming they did not help their rivals. Besides, Glaan was bound by secrecy; he could not simply ask them for help.
It was inevitable. Much as he did not want to argue with them or involve them, he would have to call in the Kaaltow. Almost certainly, they would harp – if not gloat – about technology and its evils and the use of the Beast and how they all had brought this on themselves. But Glaan did not care whether they felt good or not, and not even whether he felt good or not, just so long as the task was accomplished.
His ship contacted the Kaaltow, and after a few moments, the channel was open.
What do you want? asked a Kaaltow he was not expecting, Jeshal. We do not have time to spare. He sounded as if whatever he was doing at the moment far exceeded anything that the Guardians cared about.
I was expecting Hilya, Glaan said. Although she too might gloat, and although her views were disturbing to the Guardians, at least she cared about the Line.
Hilya, Jeshal repeated. She…took ill soon after your visit.
Ill? Are you experiencing some form of an epidemic? Glaan began to consider the possibility that Sannel – or for that matter, Nilsa - had spread the Beast to them, even though it was unlikely.
Jeshal was more offended by the question, though. Do you take us for savages, Unbound ones? No, I am not speaking of an epidemic. Hilya is ill in a spiritual sense – one I am sure makes little sense to you. She is becoming a Loner – but she is also in pain. After lingering for a moment, Jeshal added, I am also a member of the Twelve.I have been assigned the job of dealing with you. Speak now.
You have been informed of the events in the Tarl’tkinsa system, Glaan stated.
After a moment, Jeshal said, Yes. Disgusting. Irresponsible. Our Founders contributed to the defeat of the monster and you had to deal with its offspring. We should have known. We had hints, an occasional Vision, and yet…what is it about being Unbound and lusting for power? Glaan knew better than to answer or argue. The temerity-
-Is unimportant, Glaan interrupted icily. He did not want to spend an eternity listening to him. What is important is that we have felt traces of a group that wishes to keep this secret. They probably are aware of our existence. They also are plotting on silencing Sannel, the youngest member of the Line. They have access to Beast technology – and it may be that they can subvert all of our vessels instantly.
And you want us to intervene in this coming battle of yours, Jeshal said
You have said the Line is your concern as well.
It is. But we have more pressing matters. Our exodus is beginning and we must not draw unwanted attention.
You are leaving the Galaxy?
What would you do in our situation? We do not want to be victims of the enemy. Our Visions – they- Jeshal became aghast, stopping for a moment. -We have been having trouble with them. It is hard to see what course of action to take.
Rather than fight, you would abandon us, Glaan said.
We have no choice. How would you feel if you became Bound – since that would seem to destroy the point of your existence? We must leave quickly. Outside of the Galaxy, in between them, we will be safe – that we do know. We may decide to return once we – can grasp the situation.
Glaan began. It is not my place to interfere. However, we need support for the next few days. Then you may leave. If you do not care, though, we see no reason for you to claim anything in the Line as your own. You will have no power over us in the future.
Annoyed, Jeshal asked, How many?
Enough to engage a Hiigaran carrier group, at least. We do not know what we are facing. But it is certain to be a difficult trial.
You ask for much, Jeshal said. I will need to convene with the others of the Twelve.
Do so.
Glaan waited.
There is something you should… Jeshal began, perturbed.
With a faint intensity, Glaan heard his name.
Hilya.
Yes…The others probably dramaticised my condition…It is nothing. Glaan felt a weak tactile sensation across his ship. Hilya probably was trying to convey a touch, a caress.
The problem with-
-How is Sannel? she asked, as if she had not heard him.
She lives. Psychologically, though…emotional resiliency is not a strength for her. She feels simultaneously responsible for and indifferent to what happened.
So she isn’t well, Hilya said distantly. She seemed to want only a simple conversation.
No.
After a pause, Hilya began, I am sure the others speak again and again to you of the Beast. I will not burden you by speaking of it again. In your heart you know it is wrong. If you don’t…then I see no hope for you. Try not to blame them, though - we are all unsure. Our Visions have been…troubled. We see death…With Sannel, I have tried to See what is coming – she even plead me to speak of it – but I cannot see it. I see many things, actually, but it does not make sense.
Glaan let her continue. At least Hilya had some respect for him.
But I do know she is…protected. For the moment, at least.
Protected? How –
Do not ask, Hilya answered. I do not know how or what or why, I just know.
What are we supposed to do about it?
Hilya focused on him, weakly. The others are reluctant, but I…will help you. You will have some Kaaltow ships guarding her. It does not matter – but I know you do not believe in such things, and nor does she. And…we were not there some time ago with the 079 demons. I want to help make up for that.
Thank you, Glaan at last said.
Do not thank me. Keep her safe. It is what you are good at, even if some of your ways… Protect her and I will be at peace.

Ship hovered in orbit of the planet below, towards the edge of the glittering fleet. Several times it had urged her to prepare for the trial and find some way to prove her innocence. Sannel had no intention of doing that, though. She had originally intended to be killed upon return from the Tarl system. She would let it happen. Everyone would be happier.
Sannel looked inwards, at the Hiigaran, Taiidan, Bentusi, and T-Mat ships guarding the new Station.
It was never meant for me.
She felt a change in the space around her – a hyperspace signature. A yellow hyperspace window opened, a golden-brown Bentusi Tradeship sliding out, damaged in two, three places, the dark scorches out of place within the bright light of the Exchange. Yet no ships rushed out to help it – its damage was relatively minor compared to the dozens of Bound refugee ships. Still, it looked like a wounded creature. A fellow sharer of pain.
Do you need help? Sannel sent, her ship gliding over.
The Bentusi did not answer at first. Ship moved closer, towards the light. Then, the Bentusi ship rotated until the outward side of the horseshoe faced her. Their weapons were charged.
Do not approach us further, the Bentusi demanded. Immediately, Ship slowed to a stop relative to the Bentusi.
I…I am sorry, Sannel said.
We are aware of the crimes you have been accused of. It is found that you have consorted with the Devourer…We will regret the consequences.
Sannel almost blurted out a response, but Ship quieted her. Sannel, do not tell them you are guilty.
She wanted to cry. She had always found the Bentusi benevolent, and while it discomforted her to be in their presence, she knew that was more her problem than theirs. She had not considered their reaction when giving the Beast Tarl the data on the B’qula.
But before-
-It would seem that we misjudged you previously. We would have thought that respect for your ancestors would have prevented you from acting rashly. Of course, they did not know of the dark secret of the Hiigarans, that all of her people were guilty.
Sannel mulled for a moment, pensive. Perhaps I did what the others say, perhaps I did not. Would it truly be such a bad thing?
The Bentusi were angry, for the first time Sannel had witnessed. The Devourer came from Outside! So many of our songs were lost fighting it. If not for kiith Somtaaw, we would have been devoured, or we would have fled. Even afterwards, your direct ancestors had to defeat Outside itself. In a matter of moments, you undid all of that. Consorting with the Devourer is an unforgivable transgression; we will- They paused, collecting themselves. …Regret the consequences.
So you really would hate me, Sannel said. When they did not answer, she added, If that is the way you feel, then fire. You want it. I want it.
Ship began to protest, as did the Bentusi. That is not our way-
Do it. Now, Sannel demanded.
For a long moment, there was silence.
That is not necessary. We will not disturb you if you do not disturb us.
Sannel did not say anything more. Instead, she withdrew, Ship retreating. She closed the channel, took solace in the isolation and loneliness. She let out a sigh.
Another ship, though, had noticed her and was approaching, aimed directly at her – a T-Mat Megaship. The Bentusi, unfortunately, rarely have the resolve to attack when they should. It is a pity. We were hoping they would do it.
Sannel had not expected this. Nevertheless, she approached, wary. The trial is not set for a few hours-
-We both know that you did meet the Devourer and that you exchanged with it.
Did they know the secret? Probably not, Sannel guessed.
The Bentusi were right. Doing what you did was an atrocity.
I know.
The Devourer consumed many songs. You are a disgrace to the Unbound.
I know.
You deserve to be killed.
I know.
The T-Mat Megaship drew closer, two Frigates trailing behind. It would be more than sufficient – her ship might last a few seconds under the onslaught. Sannel would let it happen.
The T-Mat ships surely had locked weapons on her. Ship sent a distress call, but it would be too late.
One second passed, two, an eternity to Sannel. Then, the T-Mat ships turned, leaving her.
You are not- Sannel protested, knowing there was probably too much horror in her voice.
It does not suit us to kill you. We have our reasons. If it does suit us later, we will do it then. Not until then. The T-Mat left her.
No way out, the 079s reminded.
Sannel tried to blanked her mind, let her Ship work off tension by circling the Station.
Why? she asked into the emptiness.
Because you know.
Sannel instinctively tried to locate the reply, but it seemed to come from all around her. Who are you?
Keepers, came the reply. Sannel still couldn’t find them, gazing all around her. Keepers of the secret, keepers of the Hiigarans. More than that you will never know.
Are you here? Do you-
-There is no point to asking those questions, the Keeper answered. But you will get what you want – death.
Sannel shivered.
You will be tried, and probably found guilty. Then we will signal you and you will go to a location we designate. Speak of it to no one. It will be quick and painless.
If I refuse-
You would never refuse. But if you did, we would still kill you…after we kill Kaltar in a painful way.
A small ray of hope came to Sannel. You will not harm him if I go?
Of course we will, the Keeper replied. He is, in fact, the greater threat. But it will be more merciful, and it will not be for some time. Similar considerations apply to Takell. But we like things to be clean. Otherwise, we would have eliminated them already. But it would be too suspicious to kill any of you now, before the trial.
Sannel was quiet, huddling in the cold.
They are wise, to keep the secret to themselves. Otherwise, we would be forced to eliminate them. Not that we would want to – Takell leads the Council well. It would be suspicious, obviously. We are glad they have not forced us.
Why me?
Because you are a Hiigaran, and you are no one. Takell is far too important to eliminate – and he is too concerned with other matters to form a foolish crusade. Kaltar is just one Bound delegate – insignificant, and most would not believe him. Still, even he is too important to simply kill. On the other hand, if both of you were allowed to live, a delegate and a Hiigaran…others would listen. By silencing you, we can reduce the threat. You do realize that is why we are doing this? We do not enjoy murders, and we do not enjoy doing this to you. If we knew of a way to spare you, we would. But we cannot allow the Hiigarans to fall because of this secret. We cannot allow the Galaxy to turn against us. We fought for millennia to come where we are, and we must not allow it to be undone. We are sorry that there is no other way. Besides…this is what you want.
Yes, it is, Sannel answered. I could call in the fleet.
She thought she heard laughter.
We are the fleet. We can make it do what we want. A few of the victories in this war are actually our doing. We have powerful contacts in the fleet, and elsewhere within our people. Even if everyone learned of our existence…a rather large fraction would support us. We only seek to keep our people at the apex of the Galaxy, where we belong. It would be naïve of you to believe that your people are altruistic, if experience has not taught you otherwise. They continued, Remain silent…or the results will not be clean.
How can I trust you that you will be more merciful with Kaltar? How can I trust anything you say?
You cannot, obviously. We might still kill Kaltar as soon as you leave, in an extremely unpleasant fashion. We might do worse than kill you. We might even turn you into one of us before we kill you. We could be lying in saying that we will be merciful – we might torture you until you are so broken you only want to serve us. That would be too suspicious. But we could do anything to you, or to Kaltar, or to Takell. However, if you do not cooperate, we will definitely kill Kaltar in a painful manner and your fate would be no better, while if you do cooperate, your death will be peaceful and Kaltar might escape. Would you not choose that small hope for him?
Sannel did not answer the Keeper’s question. How will I find you?
We will find you, the Keeper said and vanished.

“We have managed to successfully engage the B’qula on several occasions,” the T-Mat said. “They have not faced the true power of the Unbound.”
The same power that let you kill Latal, Kaltar bitterly thought. He tried not to get too angry, though. Now was not the time.
A knot of nervousness was festering inside. After the T-Mat concluded their remarks, Sannel would be tried. It would probably be short – to prevent the secret from coming out. Kaltar was as ready as he could be. He had found a few allies among the Bound, had created a copy of all data he could find and kept several copies on his person, in several formats, as discreet , hidden, and hard to remove as practical. The Telana’s records on the events of the Tarl’tkinsa system had been found to be missing shortly after their arrival to the Council station, as Kaltar suspected. He doubted Unbound Hiigarans would search his entire person – and he doubted they could erase some of the more obscure Zaala data formats remotely. They probably believed he was too fearful of them to act, or they believed him too depressed or too short-sighted. But Kaltar was determined. If there was a way to vindicate Sannel, he would find it.
“…Patience is what you must learn. We will fight the war as it should be fought.”
Takell did not believe it for a moment, but still he said diplomatically, “We thank you for your efforts.”
He turned to face the Council, his gaze occasionally fixing on him. “The next task gives me no pleasure…It is my hope this is the only time that we face something like this. Delegate Sannel,” he called.
She shimmered into existence, besides Takell, her gaze not falling on anyone in particular. A few seemed to be put off by her, dressed in the bold silver and blue. Kaltar thanked the Elders that she was standing and not floating.
“We do this because you entered the Tarl’tkinsa system and allegedly dealt with a Beast fragment. The charges include insubordination, improper protocol, aiding the Beast, crimes against the Galaxy, and treason.” With each charge, Takell grew more and more disappointed. “Do you want to answer.”
“I…am guilty,” Sannel said.
There was an uproar. Kaltar buried his face in his hands.
“Quiet!” Takell ordered. “Do you have an explanation?”
“I do,” she answered. “I and Delegate Kaltar of the Zaala were chosen to investigate the Tarl’tkinsa system as we made our way to the new Council station. When we arrived, we found…the Tarl homeworld had been infected by the Beast. The Beast used a dampening field to trap us. It demanded access to data on the B’qula…I knew we had no chance of escape. I gave it what it wanted, and it let us go…” She recalled the details numbly, as if they were meaningless, as if they had happened millions of years ago in another galaxy to an unrelated person. The other delegates were restless. She already admitted her guilt, why dwell on it?
Another delegate, Ena of the Ofutu, served as prosecutor. She stressed the importance of the crime, despite the motive. She had replayed records of the Beast, showing its horror; she had likened Sannel to the Imperial Taiidani. Worse was the falsified evidence – likely planted by the Hiigarans themselves. Ena had established that Sannel had planned the encounter, even hinting at the possibility she had dealt with the Beast before. Worst was a record of the Tarl opening fire with an infection beam and her ship emerging unscathed – also probably planted by the Hiigarans, who had deleted the copy on the Telana, believing it to be the only in existence. Most of the Council was shocked, silent.
Kaltar took a breath in.
“Delegate Kaltar of the Zaala, I believe you have something you wish to say.”
“Yes,” Kaltar answered. “Yes, I do.” He stood up, faced the center of the Council, and Sannel. “I have known Delegate Sannel for months… I know her very well now. And I can personally testify that most of the evidence presented by Delegate Ena is…mistaken. Neither of us had any knowledge of the Beast’s existence until we entered the Tarl system. Look at her.” He pointed at Sannel. “She wears silver and blue, the colors of kiith Limandatt of the old times, of the Defeaters of Outside. We have learned that she is descended from Tasiin and Datlai themselves. Is that someone who would betray us to the Beast?”
“Appearances may be deceiving,” said the Taiidan delegate.
Kaltar continued. “I point out a decree by the Council that empowers a delegate to establish contact with a race as a prelude to a cooperative effort against the B’qula.” That did not move any, but it was best to get it on the record, for the future.
“It is also my intention to question whether we truly encountered the Beast.”
“You mean to question that-“ Ena began.
“It is obvious that they share many over characteristics. That it is descended from the Beast, that I do not question. But if we examine the behavior of the Beast Tarl, it is radically different than the monster described. It had an opportunity to infect my ship, but it did not. It could have tried to take the information by force, but it did not. It traded for the data, giving Sannel information about the Naggarok in exchange for the data on the B’qula. Most importantly – it let both of us go. The fact that I am here now is proof of that. Does this seem like the behavior of a monster? Is this not what many of your races would have done if you were in the Tarl’s position?”
Kaltar continued, the fire lacing through him. “The Beast Tarl repeatedly said they were not the Beast. At first, I too was skeptical. But after consideration of the fact that I survived, that they were reasonable, convince me they are something different. How would you feel if you were judged for atrocities your ancestors committed? How would you feel if you were to be isolated – or killed – for being from the B’qula?” He remembered the 079s, shuddering. “It is not something that you would want to experience. Should we be so quick to condemn the Beast Tarl if we are descended from the B’qula.
“Quite a speech, the Taiidan delegate said. “Is that all?”
They still were unconvinced. Kaltar summoned his courage.
“No. I have something else.” He searched for a tiny disk, retrieving it. He held it up just for a moment, confirming its identity, savoring its identity. He inserted it into a nearby interface.
Takell suddenly realized what it was. “Delegate Kaltar-”
“The Beast Tarl spoke of something else while we were in their presence. If Sannel is guilty of dealing with the Beast, even if it is not a monster anymore…then maybe, in a way, we are all guilty.”
Takell retreated a little, resigned. It now depended on him. No doubt the Hiigarans knew what it was. If Takell let them interfere, the record would not play. If Takell slowed them down, the record would play. It came down to him, and how strong his determination to expose the secrets of the Galaxy was.
For a moment all was silent. Then, the record began playing. Kaltar felt a wave of victory. “…But we are not the Beast. We told you. We are different. The monster you deride is gone. We are not the same. Just as you are not all Naggarok launchers. We are different. Just as the Hiigarans are different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is it still a secret? Do you not know?…The Hiigarans are no different from us. Your people also dealt with us. You also use Beast technology. You have been our allies all along.”
The Council was silent. They all knew now. Takell looked down, the Taiidan delegate stepping forward. “The Council was silent. They all knew now. Takell looked down, the Taiidan delegate stepping forward. “[I]You – you-”
The recording continued, showing all of the conversation, including the “demonstration” on Sannel’s ship. Ena seemed a little embarrassed, seeing the full context of the situation. After the record showed Sannel’s ship entering the slipgate, it stopped, probably by the Hiigarans getting around Takell. Perhaps they were looking for a place to end that would not appear suspicious. But it was too late now.
“Delegate Kaltar,” the Taiidan addressed. “What is the purpose of this? Do you…you, Delegate of the Zaala, wish to disgrace the Hiigarans?”
Breaking the silence, Kaltar spoke. “No. In fact, there is evidence that shows that most of the powers of the Galaxy have at one time or another experimented with the Beast – including my own people. It happened millennia ago, as did the Hiigarans’ deal with the Beast. We should not blame them for it. The Hiigarans are not monsters, despite the deal…I believe, though, that Sannel was so distraught that she…did not act-“ He stopped. Few cared about Sannel anymore. Now it was the Hiigarans on trial. Kaltar realized what he was doing.
“Delegate Takell…” began the Taiidan. “Is this true?”
Takell was silent for some time. “We did not know…but it is likely.”
The Council filled with an uproar.
“We should have known!” the T-Mat accused. “Your kind always had no respect for the Unbound-”
“You must have been mad,” the Bentusi said. “You allowed the Devourer-”
“How could you?” demanded the K’nal’deq.
“What gives you the right to-“ raged the Ilfa.
A horrible feeling came over Kaltar. They had all harbored vengeance, at the B’qula. They too wanted to release it. They too sought targets, and the Hiigarans were a highly visible one. The Galaxy was unraveling, withering under the inferno.”
“Silence!” the Taiidan said. “Silence!” The Council stopped.
“We have had many disagreements with the Hiigarans. This revelation completely shocks and disgusts us.” He turned to Takell. “But he is not the enemy. The crime was done long ago. Our own ancestors experimented with, some even dealt with the Beast. We all did. We have clashed over ancient blood before, but now is not the time to seek vengeance. If we start doing that, then soon all of us will be on trial for what we have done. We are all in danger; the Hiigarans have given their lives as well as you. While they have made mistakes, they are still the ones who arbitrate the Council. Make no mistake – after the war, they will answer for it. But as long as the Hiigarans have not been party to the secret, we move for an amnesty for them – and for the rest of us – for any ancestral deals with the Beast.”
Takell looked up.
“Do you believe Hiigarans have been upholding the deal?” the Taiidan asked.
Both Kaltar and Takell knew that there were. But if that was admitted, then the Hiigarans would be endangered. It was a dangerous line.
“…No, I do not believe so.”
“Delegate Kaltar, is this true?”
Kaltar faced the Council, knowing what was at stake. “…Yes. I believe that current Hiigarans are innocent.”
“Thank you for your truthful account. You have enlightened the Council,” the Taiidan said. It gave Kaltar no comfort. “We move for a temporary amnesty.”
“We regret our accusations. We would support such a motion, the Bentusi said. “Perhaps we were mistaken about you as well,” they added to Sannel.
“We also find it useful to support the motion,” the Turanic delegate said.
The T-Mat spoke. “We believe that the Hiigarans’ atrocity can never be condoned. You dealt with the Devourer. You put all Unbound at risk. …But practically, we know that we must not use this moment to move against you. We will abstain.”
Kaltar sighed with relief; the Council would not fall apart.
“Thank you,” Takell said.
“Would Sannel be exempt?” asked Kaltar.
The Taiidan was skeptical. “Delegate Sannel dealt with the Beast in the present. We cannot simply look away. While we will take the new information into account…we will vote on her sentencing, if any, later.”
“Do you have something to add?” Takell asked.
Sannel looked at them with those hungry eyes of hers. “I…I…Do what you must. I do not care. Do what you see fit.” She vanished, leaving the Council to sort out its own problems.

“Delegate Takell,” Kaltar said upon seeing him in his room.
“I wanted to speak to you after…”
“The secret-“
“It had to come out eventually. Better sooner than later. Had it come out later, you might have been seen as also part of the secret. That is part of the reason I helped you, and that is part of the reason I let the record play. Now that it is out, and now that the situation is partly defused…they will be a little more forgiving.”
“Sooner or later, they will find out about…them.”
“I know. But I doubt the others will hate us, now that the amnesty is formalized. They…are not us. They believe they are doing us a favor, they may have connections, but they do not represent us – not the majority. Besides, many of the more powerful delegates have their own secrets to hide, and so will not push it, now that things have started to calm. …Still, you endangered yourself, and while you did well to reveal it only in the presence of hundreds, when any attack on you would be highly visible…you have made many enemies.”
I already have many enemies. “I did not want to hold it anymore. Sannel-“
“-That is the problem. She was not truly helped much. The most open-minded, perhaps one-third of the Council empathizes. The rest, though…they do not care, or they have their reasons for supporting her execution.”
“How is she doing?”
“That is why I wanted to speak with you. She just left.”
“Where – can you track her?” Kaltar asked.
“I have sent a ship after her, although-”
“This was not what I expected – but I think I have a plan…”

Sannel neared the destination given to her, a star 570 light years from the Station. Around her, Guardian ships faintly appeared on sensors. She had wished for them to go away – but that did not matter to them.
I am in this with you, Sannel, Junan sent.
She slipped into normal space, the Guardian Dream ships accompanying her.
Sannel was sure the Keepers were here; she could feel their presence. But her ship could not detect them. You should not have brought them, they said.
They came of their own will, Sannel said.
It is our place to watch over those in the Line of Tasiin. You will have to destroy us first before you can get to her, Glaan stated. If you do, you will be murdering one of the few descendants of Tasiin himself. We will not let that happen.
We will defend her, Junan added. His ship moved around hers, and he sent sensor readings to her. Ship now detected the Keeper vessels, two carrier groups. Junan’s ship was directly between them and her, although it would not make a difference.
Try to make the attempt. The Dream ships all at once decloaked, their weapons turning off, their hyperdrives deactivated. Sannel’s ship also shut down, Ship afraid.
It is a pity. Their black, sleek ships were approaching. Sannel only hoped that it would be quick, as they had promised, that they would not break their word.
-Space changed around her. Out of hyperspace, Kaaltow vessels appeared, firing projectiles into the Keeper ships. The Keeper ships turned, firing deep blue ion cannons, advancing. The Kaaltow surrounded the Keepers.
Who are you? asked the Keepers.
We are only a nightmare from your legends, the Kaaltow replied. We are not alone, though.
New hyperspace window opened, a Hiigaran frigate emerging. Like the Dream ships, it too lost control. But as it did, a third fleet dropped out of hyperspace – Zaala, Thule, Ilaoulauou, Athlu, Faex. They were the Bound, so long under the shadow of the Unbound. But they too were immune to the subversion of the Keepers. They joined their fire to the Kaaltow’s. The Keepers fired in all directions.
Quickly, though, some turned against the Guardians and fired. One, two Dream ships exploded. The Dream ships slowly began to come to life, turning against one another. The Keepers were subverting the ships, making them turn against one another. Junan’s ship turned against her, her own ship, of its own will and against her’s and Ship’s, charged weapons, focusing on Junan’s.
I am sorry, Junan said.
She wished Junan would not have to die like this, their ships destroying one another.
It does not have to be this way. They too can be manipulated.
But I-
-Do not displease out. Reach out. Disable them. They have hurt you. Stop them, it urged. Anger filled Sannel, anger at what they had done, at their atrocities, angry for the Guardians, for Junan, for Ship, for herself. She wanted to destroy them utterly. She would stop them.
It did not take much thought – Sannel was barely conscious of what she was doing. As the Kaaltow and Bound hammered the Keepers, Sannel projected over to their ships…and she turned off their hyperdrives and weapons. The Keeper fleet stopped firing suddenly, and began drifting. She restored the Dream ships and her own ship, and they turned on the Keepers adding their fire. The Keeper fleet was helpless under the onslaught.
We must go, quickly. They are too damaged to escape, the Hiigaran commander of the Council frigate.
The Voice retreated, as did Sannel’s rage. It had felt unreal, but the Keeper ships had been turned off. In a daze, she obeyed. The fleets jumped to hyperspace.

The Keepers were horrified. Sannel had somehow tapped into their secrets. It was impossible. They could not risk sending others in after Sannel – she could do the same thing all over again. The Keepers were now completely powerless to act. And now the secret was out.
They tried working on repairing their ships, but they refused to turn back on.
Within a few minutes, a new fleet emerged from hyperspace – the B’qula, with their silvery ion cannons blazing. The B’qula had been tricked into coming here by the others by a false signal. It did not matter now, though. The Keeper ships were broken apart under the onslaught.

We did it, Kaltar thought, his guard following him. Sannel had been saved, the secret revealed.
He walked through the claustrophobic halls of the Council, no one coming near him. As he entered the hall to his room, he noted a stifled atmosphere, an isolation. No one was in the corridor with him. The hall’s lights went out.
He then knew he had to pay a price.
His guard let out a shout, then fell silent. In the dark, Kaltar was knocked down by someone.
“You have made a deadly mistake. You ruined centuries of effort. You destroyed dozens of our ships. You have put the Hiigarans in a grave situation. We would have let you live longer, but you revealed it. You must die.”
He felt a needle pierce into his skin, and Kaltar let out a cry.
“It will be quick and undetectable. The others will think you had a heart attack. We would prefer to prolong it for as long as possible, for what you have done. But we leave no evidence.”
“You can’t…” Kaltar protested.
“We are. We do not enjoy it. But we must…It will be over soon. A minute.”
Kaltar felt his heart beginning to pound, a pain spreading across his chest, his shoulders, his arms. He broke out into a cold sweat, his breathing became rapid.
“Latal,” he whispered. He would at last join her. He had done some limited good. He did not forgive himself – on the contrary, here, at the end, he still hated himself. But Kaltar could not fight. Latal.
The darkness seemed to permeate him, a horrible emptiness. He did not see Latal except in memory, no light at all. Only the oppressive void. It consumed him. Kaltar desperately clung to the belief that he would be reunited. He had to. What would the point otherwise be?
The world faded away.
At last, light, but not the kind he expected – a small globe illuminating white cloth and the faces of his assailants, Bound, like him. Blue-white energy crackled from the globe, sitting upon a white staff, near the assailants, hitting them. They cried out, crumpled to the ground.
“He is here,” his rescuer said, the name slipping him. “The poison may be found there.”
“We will get him into the medical facilities.
Grey faces encased in white hoods with large eyes looked down upon him, like an afterimage from the fading reality.
“We had to do it.”
The emptiness, the nothingness pulled on Kaltar.
One laid a hand on his forehead.
Blackness.

The Reflection

4th Jun 02, 11:51 AM

18
One
I look upon Tasiin, and I wonder how he can handle the loneliness. He even savors it…But it seems so wrong so me. Probably the worst times in my life were when I did not have Tasiin after learning of Kharak, and after losing Dillat…
Sometimes I have to hold him. He does not need it – often, he does not want it, but it seems impossible to believe. I do not understand how someone can live without the warmth of another.

Datlai Limandatt’sa

Out of hyperspace slid the T-Mat Megaships and capital ships, arranged in an imposing wall. Frigates and Destroyers fired bright blue ion cannons, a small contingent of fighters detaching from the underside of one Megaship. The target was a B’qula Destroyer group, a dozen enemy capital ships that had attacked a T-Mat ship. An inconvenience that threatened the Unbound. The T-Mat did not like inconveniences. They would clear the way for the Radiant.
The T-Mat reached out with their Bodies, bending the wills of the enemy ships, turning them against one another. The B’qula were becoming harder and harder to subdue, and would eventually find an immunity to their technology. The T-Mat believed that was still a long time away, at least several months. Until then, it proved an excellent weapon.
The T-Mat fighters – a rather recent addition to the fleet, used for atypical battles that were prolonged – were lit by the glow of their weapons. The Frigates and Destroyers concentrated their power on one ship, another, as other B’qula vessels, subverted, added their fire. A few silver beams managed to cut into T-Mat ships, enemy drones attacking their counterparts. One capital ship even managed to fire its gravitational weapons at a T-Mat Frigate, the ship fragmenting, dying.
The small B’qula fleet was, however, quickly eliminated. The organic T-Mat ships jumped back to hyperspace amid the floating metallic debris. The main fleet was gathering. The next target awaited.

A soft touch brought him back to awareness. He opened his eyes, taking a minute to absorb his surroundings. He was in an infirmary, painted a white that seemed too bright for his gaze. Blending right in was the Bitalq sheklob, who for some time had seemed invisible in the light.
Kaltar tried to speak, but no intelligible words came out. He waited a few minutes, coughed up some phlegm and tried again.
“What…what happened?”
“You were attacked. We Saw it in time to help you, and we brought you here. Had you not been helped, you would have died minutes.”
“…How long was I out?”
“Two and a half days,”
“Two and a half days? The war – Sannel – have they-“
“Sannel lives. No sentence has been assigned yet. That will come later. The war is as the war was.”
“Did I…I remembered you attacking the assailants with the staff. That was you.”
“Yes,” answered the Bitalq gravely.
“It…must have been troubling.”
“We concern ourselves with all life. We did it because we knew we had to. It pained us.”
“Sorry that you had to-“
“It was our decision. It is our responsibility.”
“What happened to them?”
“They would not be caught. They killed themselves.”
“Oh.” Kaltar felt a little nauseous. “I presume they would not have found those responsible, then.”
“No.”
There was silence for some time.
Kaltar’s mind was beginning to clear. He remembered the attack, the pain, the Bitalq, the emptiness. The horrible void. He simply had begun to fade away, his awareness collapsing, no light. Was this what Latal had felt? Was this how it always was?
“When I was...I was dying…” he began. Kaltar did not want to continue. But the Bitalq would probably be the only ones who could quell his doubts, who could soothe that great wound. “I thought I would see Latal. But I didn’t.”
“You only died in the sense of the heartbeat, not in the sense of the spirit,” the sheklob said.
“But our people…we are taught that we begin to get a glimpse, as we are dying. I have heard one or two stories myself of warmth and the…feeling. The connection, the-“ It was pouring out, and Kaltar had to remain focused on what he had seen. “-But I didn’t experience any of it.”
“Perhaps it was not your time.”
“And when will it be my time? When will I be reunited with her?” Kaltar demanded. “After life, must I still be cursed with not being with her? Do you honestly think I have some other purpose here? Because if there is one, I don’t have any ideas of what it is.”
“If Dlak intended for you to be dead, you would have died. We knew that was not its intent. We saved you.”
“You – you pulled me away from her! If not for you, I…I would be in the Realm of the Elders. But you-“ he accused. Kaltar wanted to get up, even wanted to hurt the Bitalq. But his body refused to respond.
“What – why can’t –“
The Bitalq stood impassively. “Rest.”
Kaltar struggled for a few minutes, then resigned. He lay down, trying to calm down for what seemed like an eternity.
Eventually, the Bitalq spoke.
“You are alive. Surely your people would believe it a blessing and a sign that there still is a purpose to your life. It is not that we die that is important – eventually we all do. It is what we do in the brief period of time we each have that matters. Otherwise, we would never have been born in the first place.”
“But I saw…nothing.”
“I cannot deny to you that you saw nothing. But that does not mean there is nothing. Perhaps you saw nothing of an afterlife because you never died truly. Perhaps you would not accept what there was to be seen. Perhaps…Dlak wants you to understand how you Hiigaran friend feels.”
Kaltar hadn’t considered that. But it made some kind of sense. How Sannel could live in such a universe was beyond him, but he had, for a moment, had an understanding of what it would be like.
“Perhaps it is a signal for you to focus on life and not the afterlife.”
“I…I don’t understand.”
“You wish to be reunited with Latal,” asked the sheklob indirectly.
“Yes…very much so.”
“I know that you have doubts about the meaning of your life, now that she is gone.”
Kaltar could only manage a weak nod.
“Yet we believe there is more for your life. It may be that Dlak wishes for you to see no afterlife until you have accomplished your purpose. It may be that it wishes to convince you to focus on life, and showing you nothing at your death was the only way it could do that.”
“You believe that?”
“We do not believe in an afterlife as you imagine it…but we believe there is an order and a purpose to existence. If you have seen nothing, it is for a reason. That you have been spared is also for a reason.”
“What reason? You keep saying there is one, but you never give a hint about what it is. What?”
“That is for you to find.”
Kaltar wanted to protest, but what could he say? The Bitalq turned, gliding silently out of the room.
Kaltar went back to sleep.

The battles were becoming harder.
The T-Mat had held back in the war, gathering and building. To their dismay, they found the B’qula to be more formidable than they expected. The T-Mat could not subvert them as easily as other races, and now the found they had to use their ships in prolonged battles, which was no to their advantage.
Ten Megaships and twenty other capital ships engaged the B’qula, slowly approaching the B’qula. Their fighters had long since been destroyed, and wounds pained their Bodies. Ahead were five Destroyers and ten Frigates, blazing with grey beams that tore into them. Enemy fighters circled the slow T-Mat vessels, slashing. The T-Mat had to spend much of their attention in turning some of the warships; even they had to be used as escorts. B’qula ships aimed themselves at a Megaship, firing an onslaught, breaking it apart.
The blue beams of the T-Mat converged, destroying a Frigate, then focused on another, as the B’qula vaporized T-Mat ship after T-Mat ship. At last, the enemy fighters were destroyed, and the T-Mat could concentrate on the capital ships. Megaships and subverted B’qula vessels fired on the B’qula. The enemy Destroyers and Frigates lasted for a few minutes, and then at last, they were all destroyed.
The T-Mat knew they had suffered a great loss. Two-thirds of this fleet had been destroyed. But it, like everything they did, was necessary. They hyperspaced back to the main fleet.

Kaltar drifted back to awareness. He opened his eyes, seeing Sannel, her hungry gaze fixed on him, looking a little worse off than when he had last seen him. He was at a loss for a moment.
He sat up, hoping that in itself would reassure her he was fine. “I am all right.”
Sannel averted her gaze. “The Bound ships…they helped me.”
“You are welcome,” replied Kaltar as humorlessly as possible. Sannel just looked down, blankly.
“Did they decide-“
Sannel shook her head. “Takell will speak to you about it.”
“You shouldn’t take it so hard. I doubt anyone will try anything against us now – it would only add more suspicion – and the truth is already out.”
“I dealt with the Beast. That must be punished.” She seemed eager, even, for it. We are too much alike, Kaltar thought.
“I killed someone out of sheer rage,” Kaltar reminded. “I know what I am talking about.” Sannel looked down again. “You do not deserve punishment.”
There was silence.
“Takell wishes to speak with you,” Sannel said.
“…Very well.”
Sannel hesitated, and then Takell appeared before Kaltar, much more confident than he had last seen him.
“Delegate Kaltar – I see you are doing well.”
“And you – “ Kaltar blurted out. Takell was not disturbed too much, though.
“…The others have had larger concerns than a deal from millennia ago…We were given amnesty for the duration of the war.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Kaltar said.
Sannel’s face had fallen a little, her eyes sad.
“Sannel is a different matter…Some see the incident for what it was, some are forgiving in the light of what our ancestors were…but to most, she simply is seen as one who dealt with the Devouring Beast of Outside, and there is no need to probe further. Some of our own people probably still want to silence her.”
“What is…what does the Council want with her?”
Takell seemed disappointed. “It is hard to guess but I imagine one-third of the Council is willing to acquit her – while perhaps a quarter will settle for nothing less than death.”
Kaltar was dismayed.
“That is what I wished to speak with you about. Many wish for some punishment, but are uneasy about killing someone. It is possible that they may be convinced, or extorted, to vote for the most severe punishment possible. I believe, though, that we can make a counteroffer.” He paused. “Sannel would be free to go…but she would have to go. Sannel would be stripped of her place in the Council. She would have to leave – where is less of an issue. She would have the same rights as a normal Hiigaran – but not as a Delegate.”
“You are letting them-“
“It will draw her away from the center of attention,” Takell said. “It is also better than the alternative.”
“But you can’t-“
“Delegate – it is not your decision. It is hers.”
“May I speak with her…alone?”
“Very well,” Takell said, and vanished.
Kaltar turned his attention to Sannel. “How do you feel about this?”
“I agreed to it.”
The answer hurt him, and he knew it did so more than it should. “I asked how do you feel about it, not whether or not you agreed to do it. Do you want this?”
“Yes,” Sannel replied.
“Really?” challenged Kaltar. “You do not care that this – that it’s just an appeasement to those who do not care anything about the facts? You really wish to be exiled for something that really is not a crime?”
“Yes.”
Kaltar hung his head low. “Sannel…I know I cannot make this decision for you. I know that you are feeling depressed about the last year and about what happened in the Tarl system…But please…give it some thought. For example, what are you going to do once you leave?”
“I do not know.”
“What if you run into trouble?”
“I have not thought about it.”
“Will you be able to call for help?”
“I…I will think of something later,” she answered dismissively.
Kaltar wanted to collapse in despair. “Sannel…think about those things before you go off. I would not want you to do something…that would endanger you.”
“Why do you care?”
The question felt nightmarishly absurd.
“Because you are a friend, and I do not really have any others. Because I worry about you all of the time. Because you always seem to need someone who is concerned about you – especially since you don’t anymore.”
Sannel hovered for a long moment. “I should go.”
“Don’t do anything that will hurt you. It would pain me to see you hurt.”
Sannel’s face seemed to break and fall, her frown overwhelming it. She disappeared before answering.

The pair of five-armed Motherships approached their prey – a B’qula Battleship. Both sides had several capital ships and fighters to back up their greater ships, both were preparing to fight. Below was a ruined planet, the burned homeworld of the Ta’selk’na, which was being used as a local base of operations by the B’qula. It had always struck the T-Mat as foolishness that a race would concentrate itself on as vulnerable a target as a planet. But the Bound were always fools; the T-Mat’s ships were all free to glide between the stars. They could not make the same mistake.
Some of the wreckage in orbit was being processed by drones, a few wounded B’qula starships orbited, repairing themselves, but for the most part, the Battleship and its escorts simply guarded their victory.
But the T-Mat knew that striking this world would temporarily slow them down in this and nearby sectors. It would provide a pause that they could exploit. The Radiant could then move forward with its engagements. They knew they would win this.
The B’qula detected them, and raced towards the T-Mat. The Fighters were the first to arrive, and any prolonged battle with them would be disadvantageous. The T-Mat however, pulled many of them out of the grip of the B’qula, sending them to engage the other enemy fighters. The B’qula had always been better builders of fighters anyway; the T-Mat could use their concentration to make them clear out the B’qula escorts.
B’qula Frigates and Destroyers closed in, their silver beams cutting into the T-Mat Bodies. The T-Mat sent several of themselves to engage them, as the Motherships and a wall of escorts would concentrate on the real target. As one, the T-Mat fired at the fore of the Battleship. The enemy vessel knew the danger, turned towards one Mothership, firing.
Great pain radiated along the arms of the Mothership, agony filling their skin, the Body’s structure, its systems, its skeleton. With an unbearable vibration, the center was ripped, gouged, many songs lost in a few seconds. But it was not dead yet, and it slowly, inexorably moved towards the Battleship.
T-Mat Fighters circled the Battleship, attacking weapons and engines as they were destroyed. The T-Mat escorts moved closer, their ion cannons continuously lashing into the Battleship, the other Mothership joining in a web of brilliant blue fire. The T-Mat shifted their attention to it, releasing the few fighters they still controlled, focusing on the Battleship, intent on holding it still, on moving it closer.
The B’qula attempted to stop it, but it was too late. The Mothership and the Battleship, both scarred and wounded, rammed into one another, the nearly black T-Mat ship and the white B’qula vessel breaking apart with the impact.
A terrible sacrifice. But the T-Mat had known it would be necessary. Now they would be able to proceed easier.
The other B’qula ships continued to attack, but between the escorts and the sheer power of the Mothership, they were neutralized. The T-Mat went around the planet, the Mothership harvesting and regenerating, growing new ships. The T-Mat moved on, joining the main fleet.

Sannel, Takell called. The Council has approved the plan.
How long do I have until I must leave? she asked.
You have some time – up to a week. Until then, you may even appeal the decision.
Sannel did not want to drag it out any longer than she had to. Probably, the sooner she left, the better – she would only serve as a reminder of the stained past of the Hiigarans. Besides, what use could the Galactic Council have for a hole in the Universe?
I will not need it.
You have it, Takell said. Even if you do not wish to debate it, you must decide what to do once you leave.
She would fade away, as best as possible. Perhaps she would glide through hyperspace, and then jump into the center of a sun, or in the middle of B’qula territory. Perhaps she could even plunge into the black hole at the center of the Galaxy – it would be rather appropriate, being completely severed from the Universe. A shiver ran through her body, an oddly comforting one.
I will think of something.
Then…I will leave you. Takell receded, his attention shifting away.
Sannel savored the silence, the solitude. With her arms around herself and shaking with the cold, she imagined the quietness and the darkness and how it would come.
There is another, related matter.
It was a Guardian who had shattered the silence.
Glaan? she asked.
There was a hesitation. Then, with authority, he answered, That is my name. You have not been easy to protect.
Sannel did not particularly care. I never asked you to.
We are sworn to guard you. It would be blasphemy to abandon you outright.
It made no sense to Sannel. How could one die for their beliefs? Especially her?
But many of the others find you more trouble than it is worth. For example, Selta.
Has she – will she-
She lives. She will not come near you again, Glaan stated, the pronouncement seeming to be as unquestionable as the laws of physics. Yet she is an Overseer and has a voice in making our decisions.
Sannel remembered her last words, as she was recovering awareness in hyperspace: Know that I will have you both expelled after this war.
I have been expelled, Sannel concluded. She somewhat liked the sound of it, secretly delighted. She would at last be free. Free to end the pain, free to end her life.
Not exactly, Glaan answered, and her hopes fell. You will still be a part of the Line, in most ways until the war is over.
And after the war?
We cannot simply let you go – you know about us. That sounded a little too much like the Keepers. Nor is it likely that Selta will be content to leave you in the Line as you are. It does not please me, but unless you…are less troubled, you will be expelled.
But, of course, that was what she was hoping for.
Often those expelled join us. They learn discipline, and they assist us.
Sannel tried to imagine life as a Guardian. She would be free to be with Junan – as far as she knew, anyway. She was not sure she could withstand forcing Dreams onto others, or interrogating them. The Kaaltow had offered her a place. Perhaps I can join Hilya and the other Kaaltow.
Hilya is not doing well, and the Kaaltow are leaving the Galaxy for intergalactic space. They will not tell us how to reach them until they are certain of their security.
Sannel’s hopes fell with that. That left permanent exile as her only option. Btu, of course, that was her original intention.
What about Junan? Is he also expelled?
No, answered Glaan. He will remain with you until the war is over. If he chooses, he can continue even after you are expelled. The rest of us will turn our attention elsewhere, from now on. One or two of us will be in your rough vicinity, and we will respond to either of your ship’s distress calls or on important matters, but we will not follow you or protect you all of the time. Should you encounter trouble, it is likely that there will be three or four Guardians who will be able to responds…perhaps belatedly.
So, Junan aside, she would be free, as before she first encountered Glaan. Thank you, she whispered.
This is not something we wish to be thanked for. It is of utmost importance, a solemn occasion – even if you will not be fully expelled. You should understand that you will be alone.
Sannel laughed bitterly, her thoughts returning to the welcome exile. She did not bother to explain it to Glaan. For once, she was the one who would be acting mysteriously.

Fleet after fleet, battle after battle. There always was so much to do. But the T-Mat had always dedicated themselves to serving the Unbound, even when they were ingrates, or false to their ways, like the Hiigarans. Even the Bound could benefit from their work and their abilities. The T-Mat were weakening the B’qula here and there – and eventually they could slow down the whole offensive. That was their place now, they knew, to protect the Unbound when they did not realize they could, did not know how.
And yet, there was that feeling…Something terrible about to happen. Destruction and pain. The T-Mat sometimes felt as if they were being watched, and they did not like those who meddled.
But that was later. The immediate task stretched out before them.
Stationed above a resource-rich moon in a resource-rich system lay another local center of operations of the B’qula. Destroying this one would be a blow to them, a rather severe one. Protecting it was three Battleships, nearly four dozen other capital ships and hundreds of fighters. The T-Mat had brought in five Motherships and two hundred other larger ships, Megaships and destroyers and frigates.
The T-Mat immediately subverted as many B’qula fighters as they could, straining to have them combat their enemies. Then, walls converged on the largest enemy ships, glowing with blue ion cannon fire. B’qula gravitational weapons slammed into their ships, several falling immediately, plasma cutting into the wounds.
The T-Mat, once many of the B’qula fighters had been cleared, launched their own fighters. They descended onto the Frigates and Destroyers, besetting them as capital ships added their fire. The T-Mat now turned B’qula vessels to add their effort. The Mothership waited from a distance.
The fleets clashed, blue and grey light exchanged between them. Slowly, the T-Mat advanced, even as they lost ship after ship, incurring losses here and there. As they took the hits, the T-Mat vaporized Frigates and Destroyers.
The Battleships remained untouched, though. One fired its main weapon during the battle at a Mothership that had begun its approach; two arms of the great Body were snapped off as the central disk ruptured. The Motherships returned fire, ion beams lashing out. Still, the Battleships were able to take much of the barrage, relatively unscathed.
But there were new hyperspace signatures - the T-Mat reinforcements had arrived. They took cold delight as it emerged, revealing its enormity. The T-Mat had finally brought their Radiant into the conflict.
It was dozens of kilometers long, a hollowed out asteroid straddled with arms of organic material. It was installed with a powerful hyperdrive that could bring it within a few hundred k’loms of B’qula vessels – and made it highly mobile, unlike the pathetic planets and moons of the Bound. The T-Mat were even beginning to build more, though that would take months. Most importantly, the Radiant’s main cannon had locked onto a Battleship.
The target was well out of typical weapon ranges, but the T-Mat Radiant was designed to be effective even at long ranges. The blue beam coruscated with brilliance, slamming into the Battleship. The B’qula vessel was scorched, withering; the Motherships added their power. The other two Battleships attacked, their silver beams and gravity waves pitting only the surface. With a flash of light, the Battleship exploded.
The Radiant focused its attention on the next one, and under the combined forces of the T-Mat, it too burst apart. The last Battleship, alone, withstood a minute before it fell.
The great center of the T-Mat fleet had brought them victory. The B’qula would now seek to stop them for once and for all. But the T-Mat could withstand it, and they would strike the weak spots. No enemy could last against them. After the wounded Bodies had docked with the Motherships, Megaships, and the Radiant, and after resources had been collected, the T-Mat jumped with their center of operations into the glorious freedom of hyperspace.
How little the Bound know of the true pleasures. We truly are Unbound.

Sannel sat, unmoving it, the Cradle. One of her hands grasped her other arm, which was wrapped partly around her knees. Weak as it was, the grip still hurt. But Sannel knew she must not try to move. She wanted the pain, needed it. She needed to be punished.
She had received another message from her father. Once, before Globular Cluster 079 – it felt as if it was before she was born – they sent a message to one another about once a week. At first, after returning, she had tried to answer, tried to describe the Kaaltow…but she hadn’t managed more than a few words. Now, the messages accumulated, unanswered. She did not have anything she could say to him.
…Sannel, if you have anything you want to talk about, please, I am here. I hope you are all right. I think about you all of the time…
Sannel closed it, filing it away with the others. Part of her simply wanted to erase them, but she found that she could not. She cleared her mind. She must not think about him. He should not think of her. She was not worthy of him.
She drove her hand’s grip into her arm, the pain flaring along it.
Yes, whispered the 079s. Infinite pain.
Sannel listened, unaware of all but the voices, and the darkness, and the cold.
You must be punished.
After silence, they added, Only one way out.
I have tried, Sannel said.
No. The 079s seemed immensely furious. No.
I try to let them. I want to die. But they will not let me.
You have not tried.
I have. I want it to end. I want it all to go away. They won’t leave me alone, Sannel protested.
You have not tried.
Do you think that I want to live? They will not let me. I have, I try to take it, but –
You have not tried, they repeated. With that, pain radiated along her body, consuming her bones, her blood, her brain. Her mind cowered under the onslaught, until she was unaware of anything else, afraid of it all, until she wanted it to stop. She would do whatever was need to stop it.
The 079s were satisfied, pleased. You could have, but you did not.
Yes, Sannel said. She was disgusted with herself. She should have done it long ago. She poisoned the Universe with each moment she continued.
You cannot wait for others to do it. You must take the only way out. You. You.
Sannel recoiled. But – but the Universe…we all die. Life is fragile. Surely something will-
With a fit of rage, the 079s sent pain through her again, enjoying it.
You. You. Only one way out. You must take the way out.
Sannel wanted it to end, so much. Yet, why did something resist? Why was it so hard? Why did she want to live?
Die, the 079s commanded.
Yet, Sannel heard that music, the loop in time, the song that had resonated with her. She longed for it. But she must not. I don’t want to be Lost.
You have no song, the Bitalq Leader said.
No, Sannel said. She pushed it all away, trying to bury herself in herself.
You must die, the 079s said.
Yes.
You are an irresponsible child, Selta said.
Yes.
You must be silenced, the Keepers said.
Yes.
Sannel was surrounded. There was no hope. There was only that one way out. She must do it. There was no other way. Sannel had to end it.
The taunts and whispers and hate encircled her. Sannel wanted to cry out, to Tasiin, to Datlai, to the Voice, to anyone, to anything, but she knew there would be no answer. There was only emptiness and pain and chaos and dark. Blackness, abyssal dark consumed her. She would do it, must do it.
I don’t want to be Lost.
Sannel jerked awake, finding herself in the Cradle, shivering violently. Her ship tried to speak with her, perhaps reassure her. Sannel only could stare ahead, blankly, arms wrapped around herself. She must be silent, motionless, punished.

The T-Mat felt it again. It seized their thoughts – the destruction, the pain, those who watched. They knew they would be in great danger. They sent out a tenth of their fleet to get reinforcements. The T-Mat knew they must do that, lest they endanger themselves, lest they entire fleet fell. Then, they sought out the disturbance.
The Radiant, Motherships, and escorts shed their energy, jumping to normal space, the song of hyperspace fading. They arrived, emerging in the blue glow of hyperspace windows into a star system near B’qula space. Sensors revealed nothing of note; it seemed to be an empty system.
But the T-Mat could feel something here. During the past millennia, they had sensed…something. The T-Mat noticed it, and tried to track it wherever they could. The other Unbound were completely oblivious to it, but the T-Mat were watching and waiting. The T-Mat would guard their peers from…it. The T-Mat did not like mysteries, and where they had a feeling they usually were correct.
Thousands of k’loms away, it lurked. The T-Mat sent walls of capital ships to close in. The Moterships and Radiant itself focused their attention on it. The last time they had such an opportunity, Bound ones were nearby, who had to be incapacitated – but they had interfered and it had slipped away. The T-Mat would have their chance now.
-Hyperspace windows appeared everywhere. The T-Mat were filled with a sense of dread. They had been distracted from their primary task. From the glowing white hyperspace windows, B’qula warships emerged. They surrounded the T-Mat fleet, appearing within the fleet, their hyperspace inhibitor fields trapping them, binding them. The B’qula were determined to eliminate them; they evidentially did not sense the other presence; and their determination had brought hundreds of ships to stop the T-Mat.
And appearing k’loms away from the Radiant, a B’qula planet-destroyer had appeared.
Despite the futility, the T-Mat fought. They tried to subvert enemy ships, but there simply were too many, and the T-Mat kept slipping. The walls of capital ships turned excruciatingly slowly as B’qula vessels raced towards them on inertialess drive. The silver beams overwhelmed the blue fire of the T-Mat, filling space, a web that cut into their Bodies.
The T-Mat Radiant fired its main cannon at the planet-destroyer, a continuous stream of ions, yet the behemoth was unaffected. Capital ship after capital ship were destroyed in flashes of light. Battleships fired their main weapons at the Motherships, destroying several, arms flung off, their Bodies shriveling like corpses. Energies radiated from the planet-destroyer, coalescing, building.
The T-Mat, resignedly, knew the dire situation they were in. The planet-destroyer needed several minutes to create the singularity needed for a large, high flux burst of ultra-exotic radiation to destroy a planet. But the Radiant – only 60 k’loms in diameter – needed a smaller singularity to destroy it. The planet-destroyer would need only a matter of seconds to build up the shot. The T-Mat tried to jump again and again, but their Bodies could not. They sent out distress calls, focusing their fire on the planet-destroyer, to no avail. The planet-destroyer was nearly ready.
Although it was far too late, the T-Mat decided to die fighting, fighting for the Unbound. The Radiant began lumbering into the planet-destroyer, still blazing away. With the weary determination of warriors, they broadcast an epitaph, a final proclamation.
We will not be Bound!
The planet-destroyer fired. The glowing shot plunged into the Radiant. The T-Mat onboard only felt a sliver of excruciating pain as it entered the Body, and then with a brilliant flash of light, it dissolved.
The remaining T-Mat did not bother to attack the planet-destroyer anymore. They did not care about personal vengeance. Nor did it matter the B’qula had struck at their center with it. Futilely battling with a planet-destroyer would be so…Bound. And now, at the end of this fleet, of their ability to roam the Galaxy free, unchallenged, they would not lower themselves to that.
They had known destruction would lie ahead for them. But it had come from the B’qula after all, and not from an unknown. As the B’qula fleet destroyed their final escorts, the T-Mat resentfully savored their being Unbound.

“With 61% of the Galaxy captured, many of our abilities to strike back have been limited. Research into captured B’qula technology has been unfruitful, although it continues. The casualties…the number of victims is too high to contemplate…Even if the war stopped right now, it is likely we will never know all of the fatalities. And even if the war stopped and we regained control of the Galaxy…we estimate the time to rebuild…will be one thousand years.”
I suppose that ruins any chance they can save us, mused Kaltar.
Takell stopped for a moment. Having seen such behavior with Sannel, Kaltar knew he was receiving news of something. Perhaps another world burned. No, this must be bigger, he knew.
“There has been a major attack…against the T-Mat,” Takell announced. The T-Mat were known to be powerful to all, feared by many. They certainly had powerful ships. Kaltar remembered their weapons firing on the Telana, killing, destroying. A wave of rage, a flame of hatred flared in his body.
“Perhaps they have something to say.”
“We do, Hiigaran,” replied the T-Mat.
The mood was tense, the Council was silent.
“In the last several weeks, we have been protecting you. We have risked ourselves for your benefit. Even the Bound can appreciate our engagements.”
Naturally, many of the Bound did not like such sentiments, least of all Kaltar. The T-Mat might have been intelligent, but they were not omniscient, and they did not learn easily.
“It would be wise to discuss the Bound at a later time,” the Bentusi warned.
“Now is the time when such discussion is necessary. The Bound use up the Council’s resources! The Bound expect us to protect them! The Bound – ”
Takell interrupted them, with a threatening voice. “If you have something to say about the attack, say it.”
The T-Mat stopped, resentful. “If you must insist. We had to face the B’qula alone. We alone engaged the enemy.” Images of battles – victories for the T-Mat – appeared in the Council. “We began targeting their local centers of operations.”
With one image, Kaltar saw several Motherships, the fabled giants of the T-Mat fleet. With a shudder, he knew they directed all that happened, serving as the bases – but there was in the background something large, dark. A Mothership was silhouetted over it, implying it was in the distance.
“What is that?” asked someone.
The T-Mat were hesitant in explaining their creation.
“We knew from before the start of the war that the Naggarok launchers would be powerful. We have known that we needed more powerful Bodies. We built a central vessel from which to launch ourselves. We needed a place to build and replenish our fleets quickly, and a platform that could crush opposition and take us into conflict. We-”
“So…you built yourself a homeworld,” the Taiidan delegate finished. There was a little smugness in the conclusion, and Kaltar felt a surge of triumph.
“We did nothing of the sort! The Radiant easily slid through hyperspace. It was as Unbound as any of our Bodies. It was only meant to be the first of several.”
Kaltar did not want to contemplate that. He imagined dozens of such ships, each leaving trails of destruction and sorrow behind them, each killing again and again.
“But obviously it was not invulnerable,” the Taiidan said.
The T-Mat were reluctant at first. “Minutes ago on a routine stop the Radiant and its escorts were ambushed.” Telemetry appeared in the Council, hundreds of hostiles surrounding the T-Mat fleet. “The B’qula used on of their planet-destroyers to attack the Radiant.” The T-Mat didn’t just sound hostile towards the B’qula, but towards the Universe. “The Radiant and much of our fleet was destroyed. Some ships were on other missions, and we had sent others away. It should not have happened that way. We knew that we would have victories against them. We knew-”
“Did you believe yourself invincible?” demanded one delegate.
“We are Unbound,” the T-Mat replied with disdain.
“…They lost one-half of their fleet,” added Takell.
“Yes, Hiigaran. We must now retreat. There are things that we must do, which may still be in our capabilities.”
“What things?” asked the Taiidan.
“That is not your concern.”
“If you intend to engage the B’qula-”
“You do not understand. You never can. You and the Bound do not understand what we do. You are not truly Unbound.”
“They are as much Unbound as us,” the Bentusi stated.
“You never did understand either. None understand what we do.”
The Council was filled with resentment. Kaltar fought his impulses. There must be a reason. There must be- His body was shaking with anger.
“Do you reject our assistance?” Takell asked.
“We-” began the T-Mat. “We will decide as needed.”
“Do not do anything that would…make us refuse to help. While harm may not be your intentions-” He paused, and the T-Mat did not object. “-It may come of them.”
“We will not be bound,” the T-Mat answered.
“Enough,” said Takell. “We have discussed today’s news. You are dismissed.”
The other delegates began leaving, the holographic representations and symbols in the center of the Council vanishing. The T-Mat’s avatar remained, almost as if it was brooding.
“Delegate Kaltar…the Council’s session is over for the next few hours,” Takell reminded.
“Yes…but I believe I have something to say.” Kaltar’s gaze fell on the T-Mat. He approached the center of the Council. “’We do not understand. I have heard that before.”
Takell realized what he was referring to. “Now is not the time for-”
“Do not stop me. I have put this off for four and a half years. But there are a few things I wish to speak with them about. I believe it is time that we had a conversation.”
“Later-”
“Now.”
Takell, resigned, retreated.
The T-Mat noticed him. “Why do you disturb us?”
“’We do not understand.’…We do not understand what?” Kaltar demanded.
“That is none of your concern.”
“I am concerning myself with it. You always claim to know more than us. But obviously you do make mistakes – you were defeated. What lets you be righteous?”
“We do not answer to the Bound.”
Kaltar stared at the T-Mat symbol for a long moment. “It is time to start. You insult us, you threaten us, you manipulate us, you kill us! You believe yourself invincible, and you – you – wait there, smugly – knowing the Council’s censure cannot harm you. It is time that you take responsibility! It is time that –“
“Do not meddle in the affairs of the Unbound, Bound one. You know nothing of the way the Universe works. You live out your flicker lives-”
“’Flicker lives?’” Heat surged through Kaltar. “Is that all we are to you? You have the temerity to call us ignorant with that kind of – of – slur? If that is how you think, you and your kind should have been expelled from the Council long ago! It is no wonder the Hiigarans and the Taiidan gained your powers!”
“They have powers that should be ours! The Hiigarans collaborated with the Devourer! They overthrow the natural order of the Galaxy! They do not realize the forces involved –[‘/I]”
“So the [I]Hiigarans do not know anything either?” A torrent of words was pouring out of Kaltar, a deluge of anger. He had no control, but it did not bother him. “Just how much arrogance do you have? At least they were able to protect their home from a planet-destroyer. Can you say the same? At least they were able to defend some part of the Galaxy for a few months? Can you say that? At least they stood against the B’qula from the beginning, while you just started in the last few weeks. At least they aren’t the ones who insult everyone in the Galaxy – including the Bentusi, fellow Unbound – and then expect us to protect them! At least they don’t go around killing us without reason and then pretend to be righteous!”
Kaltar forced himself to stop. It was all coming out of him, without restraint. The T-Mat must know this was about the Telana now. But despite the self-restraint, despite the memories, despite the Elders and their impenetrable plan, he wanted to destroy the T-Mat. If he had the chance, he would take it.
“You, Bound one, do not know discipline,” the T-Mat answered, hatred boiling out of every word. “You act out of bitterness for something that happened four and a half years ago. You act out of Bound hostility with no control. You do not understand the forces at work there.”
The circular drove Kaltar insane. “Do your remember the last time we were here? Do you remember what you said? ‘We do not regret anything.’ Do you enjoy this? Did you enjoy taking thirty-six lives?”
“We do not enjoy it. It is a necessity, no more. You are preoccupied with them, with the one you lost.”
The one he had lost. Latal. A wave of grief hit Kaltar. He bit back the tears as best as he could. “You took from me my wife, my only love, the only other of my One. You took away all of the joy and happiness. You took away my ability to appreciate the world. You replaced it with hate, loss, and emptiness.”
“It was necessary. We knew it had to be done.”
The reply froze Kaltar. He wanted, then and there, to burn them out of existence. But he remembered the Kaaltow, liars, manipulators.
“It had to happen,” Hilya had said.
Though he was more angry than he had ever been in his life, Kaltar made the connection. In retrospect it made an amount of sense.
“You have Visions, don’t you? You See things, you think something must be done because of them…and you attack, kill, and destroy hundreds of innocents…all because of a Vision.” The thought was abhorrent to Kaltar.
“Visions…we have heard of these in others before. Is that your term for them?”
“It is a term used by certain Hiigarans…the Kaaltow. I know the Bitalq have them, and I have a Hiigaran friend who…once in a while…Sees things. I know they are far from infallible. To trust them enough to kill is…Elders it is such a mistake.”
“”The Bitalq are Bound, the Kaaltow are childish sentimentalists, and your Hiigaran friend dealt with the Devourer. They cannot know what it is to experience them truly.”
Kaltar forced back his anger at their pronouncement. “You do not understand, do you? You are not omniscient, you do not have a right to trample us, and you – you are not greater than us, but lesser. You understand nothing.” Kaltar made himself finish. He had said what he had needed to, and he was barely hanging on. Kaltar would not push himself anymore.
After a long silence, the T-Mat spoke.
“If you must, this was what we Saw at work when we attacked your vessels.” A holographic display filled the Council chambers. T-Mat ships in formations advanced as Zaala ships fought them. He could see the Telana and its escorts tumbling helplessly in space. But, clearly, the T-Mat were moving past them, as if they were a distraction.
“We had known that we had to incapacitate your vessels. They could report what was happening. We could not allow that. We disabled them, and concentrated on what we saw was there.”
Ahead lie nothing.
“There is nothing there.”
What seemed like a sensor overlay appeared. “Your Bound senses should understand this.”
Very faintly was a signature, vague, indistinct. It was radiating faintly with electromagnetic and gravitational radiation in complex patterns. Some of the frequencies indicated on the overlay – Kaltar knew it was wrong, even with his limited knowledge of science.
“This is impossible – the energies require dot emit those kinds of radiation…only a planet-destroyer could do something like that. You cannot expect me to believe this-“
“It is what we sensed. It was heavily cloaked. It was at the limit of what we could sense. We do not know what it is.”
It was conveniently vague. Like everything the T-Mat thought, it was self-reinforcing, but he had not proof there was anything there, that the T-Mat were not deluding themselves.
“It was necessary to kill your spouse. We had to understand what this was…and, if possible, stop it.”
“You want me…you want me to accept this? You want me to thank you for this? This is it? You – you – murderous –“
“You step out of your place…We believed you thought she went to a better place. Why are you angry?”
But there was nothing! Nothing at all! Rage consumed Kaltar. He moved closer, muscles tightening. “She did not – didn’t – you – You!” Kaltar tore towards the image of the T-Mat. It was futile to attack it, but Kaltar would try. He had to stop them.
“Delegate Kaltar – restrain yourself!” shouted Takell.
Takell could not distract him. This is what his purpose was. This was what had been on his mind for all of the four and a half years.
“Kaltar!”
He neared, ready to strike.
“Kaltar.”
For a bewildering, dream-like moment, he thought he saw Latal before him, stopping him. She was deeply saddened, disappointed. Kaltar stopped for a moment.
Latal?
The reality cam back into focus. The Bitalq sheklob was stopping him, as Kaltar had tried to stop the previous leader.
“Don’t,” she said.
“But they – they –“
“Don’t.”
Kaltar thought he could see amusement in the T-Mat’s image.
Don’t.
Kaltar squeezed his eyes shut, and one step at a time, moved away. It was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life.

Sannel woke up again, tired. Immediately she began slumping off into sleep again. The Dreams tormented her constantly.
No! I won’t- Sannel jerked herself, trying to stake away. Go away, go away, go away!
You will never be alone, the 079s said.
Stop! I am going to do it.
No, you will not. Not yet.
Yes, I will. I don’t want to live. I want it to stop.
You lie to yourself, said the Bitalq Leader. We both know that you are nothing. We both know how lonely and desperate you are. You cannot live with yourself.
I can’t.
At least the child admits something, Selta said.
Kill me, any of you. Please.
There is only the one way out. It is much cleaner that way, the Keepers said.
I hate myself, I hate myself, just kill me!
They circled her, the Universe, the Universe she stained twirling spinning, a frenzy of chaos with purpose or meaning or hope, taking delight in her pain.
Sannel screamed, coming back into awareness, but it did not matter. She knew what she must do. Her breath was ragged, her body wracked with shaking. She had to end it, end it now, stop it, stop the pain, it hurt too much, she wanted it to end, she wanted to die, she did not want to be Lost, she-
She forced her thoughts clear. A momentary warmth filled her mind, a comfort in that she was finally going to stop it. Sannel instructed her ship to enter hyperspace and set course for the center of the sun.
Ship was aghast. No! Sannel, please-
She commanded it to do it. Sannel could not wait anymore. She sent commands again and again. Many possibilities awaited her – she could head for the center of a star, a B’qula inhabited system, Hiigara itself, the black hole at the center of the Galaxy.
And to each her ship refused. Sannel- it cried. Stop!
Do it now! Sannel snapped.
Her ship was bewildered. Sannel desperately wanted it to obey, but it would not. Ship did something it had never done before. It shut her out, cutting off all control of the ship’s systems, dulling her Unbound senses. Sannel gasped, in shock. She was Bound.
Traitor! she screamed. Let me die! Let me die!
No, Junan said. Reality began fading away, Sannel losing awareness. She knew what he was doing – forcing a Dream on her. She could not let it happen. Not again. She bent her mind against Junan.
Stop now.
This is for your own good.
Get out of my mind!
Someday you will be glad that we are doing this.
You – betrayer, you traitor. You care nothing for me. You- Being this Bound was beginning to hurt, pain consumed her. A headache throbbed in her head.
She focused on Junan, angry. Rippling seized his ship; stresses building up on his ship’s hull. Gravitational waves were besetting his ship. Leave me.
If you are going to try to hurt me, do so, Junan said. I do not want to do this to you, but if you are willing to hurt me to hurt yourself, then perhaps I do not want to live either.
Her attention suddenly snapped away from Junan with a gasp, and the rippling subsided. Junan, poor Junan. She tormented him, as she did with Ship. Sannel folded her mind inward. It was not fair to ask them to pay for her death. But she did not want to suffer anymore.
Please. Go away.
Junan did not.
Ship, she called. It did not respond, intent on docking. Open the airlock. The air would be vented out, and Sannel would be exposed to hard vacuum. Ship itself would be unharmed. Please, do it.
No.
But – you will be free. You will not have to suffer me.
No.
Just let me die. Open the airlock. Sannel disconnected herself from the Cradle, staggering to where the nearest airlock would be. She knelt before it. Please, do it. I beg of you.
Her hands scraped the wall, again and again, even though it was futile. The wall blocked her from the emptiness, from the way out. She cried, pushing against it, shaking. But it was useless. There was no way out, no way out at all.

Kaltar felt sick, horrible. He had nearly tried attacking the T-Mat a few hours ago – as much good as it would have done to try to assault a hologram – and had nearly risked himself for a useless attempt at vengeance. He could not believe how easy it was – especially since he had tried so hard not to succumb after killing the Bitalq Leader. Why was it so easy to repeat the same mistake?
He was lying in bed, his face pressed against a pillow, when he received a message.
“I will answer it later,” he replied, muffled.
The message would not go away from the screen in his small room. It was high priority. The sender was…it was identified only as coming from Sannel’s ship.
Kaltar pressed a hand to his head. “What is it?”
“Come quickly to me.”
“You…you aren’t Sannel.”
“No. But she is – hurt and she needs you to come to her.”
“Can it wait-“
“She needs help immediately. Please come.” It sounded as if Sannel was in mortal danger.
Kaltar sat up. “I am coming…who are you?”
There was a momentary pause. “I – am her ship.” That sounded strange, but it had been said Hiigaran ships were self-aware. Given their deal with the Beast, Kaltar could believe it. As he thought about it, Sannel had once in a while referred to her ship telling her things. Sannel’s ship – if that was who it was – continued. “I am docking at your level, section 12. Please-”
“I will be there.” As quickly as possible, Kaltar got out of bed. Kaltar knew it was unwise to simply walk onto her ship – assuming it was even docked. It could easily be a trap, planted by those who wished the Beast’s deal with the Hiigarans to be kept secret. He would, after all, be surrounded by Beast technology. Or perhaps the ship, if that was who it was, had some reason to hurt him…maybe it was even jealous, unlikely as that sounded. But Kaltar did not care. He had killed, and he had tried to kill the T-Mat. He was long overdue for some justice. Sannel was one of the few things he had left, and he had lost her once, twice before. He did not want it to happen again.
Kaltar saw no signs of any ambush on the way to the dock. When he arrived, he felt a flutter of uneasiness, but pushed it down. Kaltar entered.
The black wall of Sannel’s ship in front of him seemingly disappeared. Inside, as before, there was no sign of Beast infestation, only the cool, grey interior he had witnessed before. Instantly, he heard sobbing, Sannel’s. His eyes found her.
No one was harming her. She was pressing against a wall, like a caged animal. Something was horribly wrong with the picture, Kaltar knew. There is nothing outside…why would she… And then Kaltar realized. No one else was trying to hurt her. She was trying to hurt herself.
Kaltar realized what a fool he had been. He had been so wrapped up in his own flaws, in his own problems, in his own pain, that he had failed to see hers. He had failed her…again. How long had she been like this? Since coming back from the Tarl system, from the Kaaltow, from Globular Cluster 079 – or longer? She must have been incredibly lonely to – to – He remembered the black painted doors in the Hall of Sorrows. The ship’s surface, the portal through which he had entered, was also black. It was terribly appropriate.
Sannel still seemed intent on trying to escape. Kaltar neared her, knelt down beside her. Still, she looked desperate, her hands still moving against the wall. Kaltar seized her wrists, stilling her hands.
Sannel stopped, looked at him with shock and horror. Like him, she had circles around her eyes, as if she had had no sleep in the past weeks. Her mouth hung open. She was hopeless, hungry, desperate. Kaltar had not seen the true severity of it until now. He had not really seen her.
How can you do this to me? she seemed to ask. But it was she who had been wronged in the first place. She should not have had to resort to this at all. Kaltar did not want to contemplate what had driven her to this. But he had been there with her at Globular Cluster 079 and the Tarl’tkinsa system. He knew the wounds, and he had neglected them and her.
Sannel tried to struggle against him, trying to escape. But it was ineffective against his strength. He put his arms around Sannel, holding her close. She cried, against him, against the Universe, speaking in a Hiigaran dialect. Kaltar could get a rough translation; the feeling in his mind provided the rest. Let me die, let me die. He tightened his grip.
How blind he had been. How selfish and shortsighted.
“No, Sannel,” he managed to say. “I won’t.”
Sobbing, she switched over to Galactic Standard. “Let me go…let me go…”
“No.”
“Why?” With the question came a shudder in her body, passing into his. “Why?”
Kaltar could not answer, not for himself, and not for her. Instead, he did his best to quiet her, calm her. She still struggled, twisting and turning. She turned her face away, into the wall. Kaltar let her.
“It’s…it’s all right. It’s all right to cry when you have suffered so much…it’s all right to want to try to run away and lose yourself…there’s nothing wrong with being sad…We will still care about you, even when you do stumble.” Kaltar said it, and now he knew it was true. All of these years, he had thought there had been something wrong with him for grieving Latal. He had believed there was a purpose, and that was sufficient. Now, though, he realized perhaps there was some better way to deal with his grief. Others felt the need for vengeance too, and there were those like Sannel who felt the need for…suicide. They should not have blamed themselves, but they did. In a way, despite their differences, Kaltar and Sannel were kindred spirits.
Her face was wet with tears. Kaltar reached to dry them. She turned away. Sannel did not like being touched, she had not had enough time to cry. Kaltar understood. He himself was not healed, and perhaps never would be. Sannel would not heal any easier.
She was trembling, whimpering like a scared child. Kaltar knew he must comfort her, and somehow – without any experience – he knew what to do. He rocked her back and forth, ever so gently in his arms. She was not fighting him anymore. Sannel let herself sway, her shivering still shaking Kaltar, still whimpering. But her weeping began to slow, quiet, still. After some timeless span, she was quiet, with her eyes closed, her arms weakly holding onto him. He had lost Latal, and with her, he had lost this.
Yet her body still felt too cold, and Sannel was shivering constantly. Kaltar did not think there was anything wrong with the temperature; if anything he was too warm. Kaltar could only stop it by giving her something she could relate to.
He let go of her, and she stayed, staring blankly into space, dazed, haunted. Kaltar felt secure that she would not try to harm herself – she was too tired for that. He left her ship, went back into his room, into a corner, setting aside the vial. The white blanket sat there in disuse. It had been a customary gift to Latal; it had passed to him, though he could find no satisfactory use for it. Now it would be his gift to Sannel. He gathered it in his arms and brought it back to her ship. Kaltar took it and wrapped it around Sannel. She looked down at herself, for a moment, as if uncomprehending. Slowly the shivering subsided, until, at last, it almost ceased. Once in a while, a shudder would wrack her, but at least she was a little better off. Sannel held onto Kaltar, burying her head, her tear-laden face in his shoulder.
She spoke in Hiigaran, muffled. “I miss my father.”
And I miss Latal, Kaltar thought. But it was not just Latal he had lost, but his opportunity for a family, for a One. Here was his chance. Though he could never take her into the One he already had, though he could not replace hers, he could create a new One – a second family for both of them. She would be like his child, and he like her second father. Though it likely would never be official, though they had led vastly different lives and always would, though she would leave soon, it did not matter, for in this unpredictable existence, he could think of nothing better to do. He recited the Zaala words, barely audibly, filling the dry silence, the perfect stillness around them. For a moment he felt Latal’s warm glow, watching down on him.
He felt as if he had always been this way, and always would be.
He was now bound to her. The Bitalq Leader had asked him if he would sacrifice Sannel to get back Latal. He once – not even a month ago – had not known, but now the answer was clear. He would not, could not.
Sannel had passed into sleep. Warmth flooded into Kaltar’s shoulders – tears.
“She cries in her sleep,” Hilya had said.
Poor Sannel. Even her dreams must be torment. But, at least, he hoped, she would have the strength to continue. He woke her and wordlessly led her to the central seat. It reminded him of his own childhood, when his own parents would lead him to his bed, sometimes even carrying him. She stepped in, falling back to sleep immediately, more peaceful.
As he left her, Kaltar thanked her ship, the Guardians, the Elders. Thank you…thank you for giving me this.

The next day, Kaltar was oddly at peace with himself. The near confrontation with the T-Mat of the previous day seemed like a separate reality, punctuated by that dreamlike interlude with Sannel.
“Thanking you for helping Sannel,” Takell was saying. “It would have been…tragic had she survived all she had went through but died through her own hands.”
“It…I could not let her do it. She has been…the closest thing to a friend I have had in the past years, in her own ways,” Kaltar replied. “In some ways – she’s been like a member of my family. I should have seen it coming a lot sooner. I just was too wrapped up in vengeance to see it.” As Hilya had said – even if Kaltar could never forgive her – “We often do not know the value of those we care about until they are lost.”
“Do not be too hard on yourself. I knew she was having those kinds of thoughts, but I was too busy to do anything about it,” Takell regretted. “These things are so obvious in retrospect, but we never want to listen.”
“No.” Kaltar looked at the vial, at the one part of Latal he had left, whom he would never see in this existence. And…the only time he had seen into the next, he had seen nothing. He tried to imagine Sannel throwing herself into that abyss, but could not.
“How is she?”
“She has been quiet…almost as if she is sleeping. I believe she is trying to absorb it all,” Takell said.
“She’s been through a lot. Give her some time.”
“And you? Are you all right?”
That Kaltar was not sure of. He had felt better before, and he had always ended up failing afterwards. He still felt anger and outrage at the T-Mat…but he did not want to act on it, and he knew those feelings were normal. “I am not sure. Maybe.”
“We will have to see,” Takell said. “I just wanted to thank you for helping Sannel.”
“Thank you for coming.”
Takell vanished, and Kaltar was alone.
He took the vial in his hands, examined it for a while. Kaltar tried praying to the Greater Elders. Before, it had always given him some amount of solace. Now, though, they seemed so far away. He could not tell if he was reaching them, or what they intended for the Universe. He only knew that it was for him to move past Latal’s death, come to terms with hit, and now honor his bound to Sannel.
A chime sounded at the door. Kaltar answered it, finding a Seth, who often sold their services. He gave Kaltar a small disk and turned away.
“What is it?”
“Keep it,” the Seth said and walked away.
Kaltar was at a loss until he checked the contents. There was data – T-Mat data – the readings the T-Mat had shown him, the one they thought had justified the attack on the Telana. Even now, Kaltar could not believe them – they were impossible, and yet still too vague. They were no justification. How dare they –
-He stopped himself. And he remembered Sannel, crying, alone in her ship.
In one hand he held all that remained of Latal’s life, and in the other, all that he had of her death. He could delete the disk, and be rid of it. He didn’t want to be reminded of it constantly, didn’t want it to poison Sannel. And yet…it would be so easy to banish it.
“We do not enjoy it. It is a necessity, no more,” the T-Mat had said. But Kaltar always believed some part of them did take pleasure in what they did. Keeping the data, accepting it would be like being a party to their crimes, to their sadism. If he believed in it, in this legend of theirs, he surely would fall farther. But if he did not, he would fall back into anger.
There were no easy answers for this one.

Sannel had at last decided where to go.
She would, as before, search through derelicts, sift through ancient stories, looking for something, anything that could help turn the war. This place, the gathering of life and activity, was not where she belonged. As a young child, she had wished to become part of the Council – her parents, and theirs, and theirs had been part of it. But, deep down, she had just wanted to become part of it to be free of Hiigara, and to tour the Galaxy with her own ship. Sannel had later learned of the song of hyperspace, and her fear of becoming Lost had suppressed such desires. At last, she would do what she had once wanted so much.
Now, though, she approached the task with dread – she would be nearly alone, and nearly always traveling through hyperspace. She would try to hang on, though. She doubted she, or anyone, had any purpose, but if she did have one, it was to wander through the night, to walk near the void, to search for answers in the dark corners of the Universe long since forgotten.
Ship had analyzed all of the data it had on the “Dark Throne” of the Beast. It had determined the slipgate had taken them to one of the giant molecular clouds on the Outer Limb of the Galaxy, farther out than Kharak even, some of the coldest and darkest places in the galaxy. It could even figure out their position to within a thousand light years. More than that, though, the data was inconclusive. Nevertheless, Sannel would try to find it, and see if there was anything to be done about it.
She had not yet told Kaltar about her plans. Undoubtedly, he would be worried at first. But this was what she wanted. She would try to continue, for him, but Kaltar would have to let her go.
She had at last replied to her father’s messages, to say goodbye. She felt uncomfortable doing it, but he at least deserved that. She knew it grieved him as it would Kaltar.
…Wherever you go, know that I am thinking about you, and that I love you, he had sent in reply
And I love you, she had said. Sannel would miss him, and he would miss her. But she had never believed it would be easy.
Now, though, she was talking with Junan, who along with their ships would be her only companions out there.
I do not think I ever did thank you for stopping me, Sannel said.
No, you did not, Junan replied, with a hint of irony.
Then, thank you. If we are going to be journeying through the galaxy together, I imagine we should be on friendly terms.
I suppose. Unless you wish to have a battle to the death every time we make a hyperspace jump. It might actually be fun, if that is what you want. Otherwise, I believe we would have to do with simple conversations.
There was something about talking with Junan that was disarming, pleasant in a way she had never experienced before. I think we already argue ourselves to death. Even though my ship says it could defeat yours anytime we jump.
Your ship never said that to me…what was that it mentioned to me about your calling Takell a…what was it?
A Guardian with a sense of humor? I thought it was against your principles.
I wonder the same about you, Junan answered.
A strange flutter passed through Sannel’s body, through her heart. She wanted this moment to extend forever, wanted him to know her, wanted to know him. Sannel loved him, the feeling running through her veins, through the veins of her ship.
She projected over to his ship, something she had never done before. Now it seemed as if she should have long ago. Sannel’s mind diffused, encompassing Junan’s. Her Bound body felt something – part of the gift the Kaaltow had given her. She could feel the embrace both in her Unbound mind and her Bound body.
Her mind coalesced around Junan, and Sannel gently began opening herself to him, began sliding his barriers away. She could hear his soliloquy clearly, and she would be able to immerse herself in him, in another at last. Junan reflected her actions, and for a moment, they could see into each other without interference.
A spasm of cold ran up Sannel, a violent shiver. Sannel pulled the blanket Kaltar had given her tightly around her, the cold beginning to subside. Her mind and body froze.
What am I doing? she asked.
We…you wanted-
Get away from me! Sannel cried. Without any thought, she sent a wave of pain through Junan, like a harsh slap. He cried out with the pain. Another shiver shook Sannel, and she pulled the blanket still tighter. She buried her mind in her defenses again.
She had been about to open herself to another, but instead brought more pain.
Junan – I – I…I don’t know what happened to me. One moment I was…and the next, I- Sannel knew there was no excuse.
It is not important, Junan replied. He was obviously still in pain, yet still he sought to comfort her.
It is not all right, though. That is the problem. I do not want to hurt you, but I do.
There was some silence for a while.
You do not have to come with me,[I] Sannel said.
[I]I am coming.
You do not have to.
Yes, I do.
I will be going to dangerous places. I do not want to be responsible for your death.
I do not want to leave you, Junan answered. There was something about his reply, something about his whole demeanor that Sannel had not noticed before. Yet, in that glimpse of Junan, she knew.
As a Guardian, he not only protected her, not only stood over her, but, in a way, worshipped her. As he was a friend and a protector to her, she was a friend and a priestess to him.
Poor Junan, she though. How horrible it must be for me to be the central light in your life.
Junan, she said. I don’t think you understand what you are doing.
I was there with you in Globular Cluster 079. Nothing can break that bond.
Please…don’t make yourself suffer needlessly.
There was quiet for a moment.
I believe I once told you to successfully convince the T-Mat to become your servants before arguing with me. Did your really do it? Did you manage to cloak their ships from me? I should report this to Glaan-
Sannel could not help but laugh, genuinely, for the first time in months. It felt so good. You are coming, then.
If you go, then I will follow.
Junan-
Besides – I should have done much more. All of this time, I knew how hurt you were feeling, and I did nothing. I could not help you. I did not want to think about it-
Junan-
Sannel…I failed you. I should have protected you better. Instead, I let you be driven to…hurting yourself. I need to make it up to you. You believe you are not worthy enough for me, but it is I who is not worthy enough for you. So many times, I should have seen it coming, but I did nothing. I have failed you unforgivably.
She was about to argue, but it didn’t seem important now. That flutter again occurred in her heart. Yes…perhaps you have been. And you know how much I absolutely despise you for it, and how I can never forgive you. Cautiously, holding her defenses around her, Sannel projected over to his ship, and lightly caressed his mind. Sannel could feel the touch on her fingertips.
Junan hesitantly caressed her, the touch like solar wind on her ship, sunlight on her face. Sannel drew his attention to her guarded soliloquy, to the shielded core of who se was. Warmth ran along Sannel’s ship, along its surface, into the Cradle, along her spine, to her head. Sannel felt, as if in her imagination, touch on her lips. Both Sannel and Ship let out a sigh.
She projected over a memory – the sunset on the Kaaltow Shrine, and he sent over another – looking down on the Galaxy from a globular cluster, a million glittering jewels in the night. A slight feeling of unreality permeated her, Junan’s Dream ship working very gently.
The dreamy warmth filled her. The shivers, the Dreams, the darkness – it became but a memory for her as the feeling resonated between them.

Kaltar had not like the idea since when Sannel had first told him of it. But he knew that Sannel must leave, and it was her decision to go. It was just hard to let go of…family.
“Sannel…it has been about half a year since I first met you. And in that time, you have gone from an annoyance to my best friend. I will miss you.”
“I will miss you, Kaltar,” she said. He was on her ship, and she frailly stood before her seat. Latal’s blanket lay there, appearing rather natural. She stopped for a moment. “The Zaala words you said before –“ she began.
Kaltar felt an intense worry.
“I think I never did the same for you.” The worry passed suddenly. He let out a sigh of relief.
Sannel began speaking in some ancient dialect of Hiigaran fluently, barely recognizable, at times, embarrassingly often, seeming to expect Kaltar to repeat after her or reply. Kaltar was only able to pick out a few words, and his answers were probably nonsense. In a few minutes, Sannel finished.
“What was that?” Kaltar asked.
“I helped you swear Selani. You are now part of my kiith.”
Kaltar was amused. “I am a Limandatt?” It seemed incredible.
“In spirit.”
“…Just don’t expect me to wear the silver and blue, though.”
For a moment, they were laughing. He was reminded of the game they once played, so very long ago.
“Do you have everything?” he asked.
She nodded. “I received the information you sent me. Perhaps I will find something out there.”
“There are some in the Council who support you. They also sent you information to help you. I-“ He stopped. There was one thing he had not given her yet, but which he could – the T-Mat data, which he had brought alone, just in case.
“What?” asked Sannel. “What is it?”
“It is nothing.” Now, faced with it, Kaltar did not want to let go of it, did not want to acknowledge it.
“If you have something that can help-“
“I-“ Kaltar saw that hungry look in her eyes, pleading, as she had before Globular Cluster 079. He could not bear it. He would not ruin her. He forced himself to reach in his pocket, and after some hesitation, let it drop into Sannel’s hand. It was absurd of him to hang on to it. Even though he was admitting the possibility it was true by giving it to her, she might need it. “The T-Mat…they say it’s what they saw when they…four years ago.”
Sannel looked blankly at it for a moment, then understood. “Thank you.”
“Wait,” Kaltar said. He pulled out the golden vial. Latal was to have been joined with the Universe long ago. With him, she would never be free. He thrust it into Sannel’s hand, knowing it would hurt him later.
“What is it?”
“Her soul,” Kaltar eventually answered. “And mine.”
Sannel took it. “…If there is a way…I promise we will meet again.” Kaltar didn’t think that would happen until they had died, but he said nothing. “…It’s time that we…place your hand over my heart and repeat after me.”
She spoke in Hiigaran again, in verses that sounded a little musical. Kaltar understood – they were saying goodbye in the Limandatt manner. When they were done, Sannel hugged Kaltar. This time, he felt no anger, no apprehension. This time, it felt right.
Sannel did not want to let go, but eventually she pried herself away, tears in her eyes. “Goodbye.”
“Farewell,” Kaltar said. He left her, and her ship.
From the station, he watched as Sannel’s ship undocked, launching itself into space, and then vanished with the blue glow of a hyperspace jump.
“That must have been hard,” the Bitalq sheklob said, accompanied by a dozen other Bitalq.
“It was…I am not sure I can grasp that she is gone.”
The Bitalq extended her hand until it gently gripped his. It was little solace, though.
“The path ahead will be difficult and uncertain,” he said. “Once again, I do not know what the Elders plan for me. I just hope - that…someday…she will be able to keep her promise.” He did not wait for the Bitalq to answer.
Kaltar walked back to his quarters, an empty space to his side where Sannel used to float.

ionfish

4th Jun 02, 11:53 AM

I have heard a typical novel takes 12 to 18 months to writeChuck Palahniuk (author of Fight Club) wrote his latest novel in six weeks. For that alone, he deserves to be shot.

Anyway, haven't had time to read the whole of chapter 17 yet, but from my quick glance at it it's looking good. Nice to see someone keeping their story afloat... :)

- ion -

dzurlord

5th Jun 02, 1:54 AM

Wow.:)

Helix /DB/

5th Jun 02, 10:10 PM

I have heard a typical novel takes 12 to 18 months to write
I clocked 400 days, myself.

I know... But I've been saving up shameless plug rights for the past two years just to pay for that. :D

So, I know well what a feat it is to finish something this size... But you may be utterly astounded by what you have gained by it. When I finally started revising the massive thing I was sublty shocked by how atrocious my sentence structure was in the first chapter. Naturally it didn't seem so when I began, but by the end it looked almost childish. Writing a book was like... forced spice evolution. (David Lynch style) Take a look for yourself.

Also know that, if I ever get the behemoth published somehow, you, TR, shall be in the acknowledgements. For it was you and others whose success made me feel like a pathetic literary amoeba, and thereby compelled me to strive for seemingly impossible heights of accomplishment. As strange as it sounds, I could or would not have done it without you.

Keep making it happen. :up:

Edric O

14th Jun 02, 4:49 PM

Smileys are better than words

http://forums.relicnews.com/images/smiley/jaw.gif http://forums.relicnews.com/images/smiley/jaw.gif http://forums.relicnews.com/images/smiley/jaw.gif

The Reflection

20th Jun 02, 1:43 PM

First off, the Curse of 70 is broken! NC has never survived long enough to garner 70 posts in a thread before - I am even starting to think I might finish it in this thread. It must be a sign or something.

Secondly,

I have heard a typical novel takes 12 to 18 months to write
This remark seems to have provoked more discussion than the two chapters! I meant on average.

Chuck Palahniuk (author of Fight Club) wrote his latest novel in six weeks. For that alone, he deserves to be shot.
On the other hand, is professional writing his job? After all, if he doesn't have school or work or the like, then that would help.
(And, of course, if I was being paid to write NC, I'm sure that it might be written faster. ;) )

So, I know well what a feat it is to finish something this size... But you may be utterly astounded by what you have gained by it. When I finally started revising the massive thing I was sublty shocked by how atrocious my sentence structure was in the first chapter. Naturally it didn't seem so when I began, but by the end it looked almost childish. Writing a book was like... forced spice evolution. (David Lynch style) Take a look for yourself.
Well, when I went back and revised Outside after I had written it, I had been surprised with how many spelling and grammar errors there were (on the other hand, I typed the first four and a half chapter in Notepad instead of Word, which automatically notes spelling errors). The first chapters also seemed...a little embarassing in their quality, I guess.
I have been re-reading older bits and pieces of NC (and Outside) for the time I have been writing NC. Fortunately, my grammar and spelling seem to be quite a bit better. Nor is there anything really all that bothering about the sentence structure or style. Instead it's the characters themselves that seem strange. It wasn't until chapter 3 that I really started understanding what drove Sannel; and Kaltar took from chapter 4 to chapter 8 to be understood - I think it took the 079s to bring him out before me. So, chapter 1 and 2 seem a little...childish, boring, flawed in such a way.
I'll probably say more about this in the Afterword, in which I generally reflect on all of the lessons learned.

Also know that, if I ever get the behemoth published somehow, you, TR, shall be in the acknowledgements. For it was you and others whose success made me feel like a pathetic literary amoeba, and thereby compelled me to strive for seemingly impossible heights of accomplishment. As strange as it sounds, I could or would not have done it without you.
Would it surprise you to know that I myself try to "compete" in such a way? After I read a good novel, my reaction might be I wish I could write that. And so, when I write, I might struggle to understand what made it so good, how I can absorb that, and even how I can beat it.
Part of the competiton even comes from myself. Part of the reason why NC is so ambitous, so long is because I wanted to compete against myself. I knew what I had written in Outside, knew it had been popular here, and I thought, Now, how can I beat it? Part of that drive made me think of the ending, which I knew (and I know) could be (and can be) powerful, and beat Outside's even. And throughout, the beginning, I struggled to make my way through, to find something even bigger than Outside. I wanted to tell the story of an entire galaxy (which is why this thing is so long).
In an e-mail to Xellos, after writing chapter 1, I said:

I suppose I sound a bit unsure in my replies. And that's because I am a bit unsure about how Naggarok's Children will unfold. I do know how it will be resolved, but I don't know much about after chapter 3 to about 65-75% of the way through the story something that would get her kicked out of the Council, although I didn't know what. Xellos did not know about it, though]. The problem is...I have to be original, yet I can't go too far. I don't want it to be a copy of Outside, but I don't want to lose the magic of Outside, either. So, in a sense, I am walking a fine line. I'm considering things I haven't done before, in Outside or any of my other writings, and I have no idea how they will turn out. That's part of the reason why I am not as quick in writing chapters - I can't force it.
...
I suppose I will have to keep on writing, and I will invent the middle of the story. It's just that I'm a bit apprehensive about Naggarok's Children, and it is challenging trying to live up to Outside while being unique.
So, there is always competition with your past.
To parapharse and negate the 079s in Sannel's Dreams, there is always one thing as high as you. You.

Anyway, thanks for the comments, dzurlord, IonFish, Helix, and Edric O.

Location: Tarl’tkinsa homeworld
I see you have evidentally enjoyed chapter 16. :)

Below is chapter 19. It's 7,000 words - so you won't have to spend hours and hours reading it. It's not one of my favorites, but I had a vision of what it was pretty much supposed to do when I began NC, and I can only expand on it so much. It, at least, gets the ending arc kicked into gear.
You're only four installments (five chapters and an epilogue) from the ending. Chapter 20 is about 60% written...and for reasons that should become clearer in chapter 19...it will be interesting, if a little bizarre and even creepy. We're getting closer...

The Reflection

20th Jun 02, 1:46 PM

19
Radiants of Fire and Night
From Hiqar flow the great rivers of darkness into the night. From Hiqar comes the slow ebbing that underlies the War. From Hiqar’s gaze do others hide, from its wrath do the stars and planets tremble, from its heart does Dlak weep.
From Hiqar we come, and to Hiqar we go.

Prel-Shek
Bitalq holy book

A loud knock on the door woke Kaltar up.
He half expected to find Sannel floating in front of him, ready to talk with him. But, no, Sannel had gone. Even a month later, it was hard to believe. He still remembered the silver and blue of her gown, the hungry gaze of her eyes, the frown on her face, as if she was still there. He had not moved on, could not move on.
The knock came again.
“What is it?” he demanded.
Kaltar recognized to voice of the Faex delegate. “A Council meeting! This one is going to be – something is going on.”
“There’s no Council meeting set for a few hours-“
“One has been scheduled,” came the slightly muffled voice through the door. “If you have not been contacted about it yet, you will be shortly. It will start in an hour – and it will be import-“
“-Important, I know.” This was unusual, though. Only for the most important meetings could one be moved ahead – otherwise the delegates could end up drowned in information. “I will be coming.”
“It starts in an hour,” the Faex reminded him, as he went to the next door.
Kaltar got up and prepared for the meeting. As he did, the image of a Hiigaran delegate appeared in his room. For just a moment, Kaltar thought it was Sannel, being a little playful by disturbing him. But, no.
“There is a Council meeting in fifty-five minutes,” the Hiigaran proclaimed.
“So I have been told,” Kaltar answered.
“This is an important meeting. Your attendance is requested and expected. If you need assistance in arriving, it will be provided.”
“I understand, and I will be coming.” This Hiigaran seemed so distant and cold, and not in the way of Sannel, somehow – this one was formal, above the Bound, more like his people would expect from a Hiigaran. Kaltar wondered just what was the norm for them.
“Very well.”
“What exactly is this meeting about, by the way?” asked Kaltar.
“That is confidential on a need-to-know basis. When you come, all will be explained.”
Keeping secrets seems to be natural for them, Kaltar thought.
The image of the Hiigaran vanished, the point made clear.
Something was happening with the war.
Kaltar hoped that for once, it would be something that brought a chance.

The Council chamber was full, packed with activity. Kaltar could barely hear his own thoughts amid the chatter. There was talk of a new weapon, or a new assault by either side, but all of it was rumors.
Nearly every delegate was present. Usually, some were away, speaking with their leaders, tending to some business or plans, or simply disinterested. Kaltar himself had been away for those four months with Sannel, searching for new technologies among derelicts. But, such trips had become less frequent as the B’qula advanced, and most had thought the situation hopeless, becoming less and less interested in watching the enemy burn other worlds. Now, though, ever y race’s delegate that he could see was present.
In the ring of the representations of the Unbound in the center of the Council, symbols hovered motionless. Takell had yet to appear and call the meeting to order, although a symbol for the Hiigarans was displayed in the very center. There was only two or three minutes left until they would begin.
Near the center, though, were people Kaltar had never seen before at a Council meeting. They were of various factions of the Tangent – mostly of the more warlike factions, Kaltar guessed, but a few he thought were from more pacifistic factions. What surprised Kaltar was that they even were there at all. Usually they stayed completely out of the Council’s affairs – they even had turned down most requests for military aid made to them. To have them present at a Council meeting was unprecedented.
Finally were the Bitalq. From this distance, Kaltar could not identify which was the sheklob. They wore their white hoods up, as usual, obscuring their faces. They too usually did not appear at Council meetings – although Kaltar knew they were far from disinterested. Instead, they worked with the Council to help understand B’qula culture. Still, it was rare for them to appear in the Council. They did not seem to notice Kaltar.
Takell appeared at last. “If we could be quiet-” he began, barely audible in the talk of the Council. Slowly, the background noise began to subside. Eventually, the delegates collectively realized the meeting was beginning, and the Council faded into silence.
“Thank you. Today, obviously something has developed. We could not tell you beforehand, until we were sure, or we risked the B’qula intercepting any message you would sent to your homeworlds. I thank you for your patience.”
All were eager to learn of the development, partly in dread, partly in hope.
“Since the beginning of the war, the Galaxy has largely been on the defensive,” Takell started. “We have been the ones who have been attacked and we have retreated very far. Many of our races have lost their homes.” Many agreed with that, murmuring discontent. “The Unbound meant to draw a line against the B’qula at the Galactic Core, especially at the Central Worlds. Unfortunately, we underestimated the enemy – much of our effort became tied up in attacking their planet-destroyer ships. We had to fall back even from there.”
Most of the delegates were anxious, wanting Takell to get to the point.
“We have been reluctant to attack the B’qula because there has been no point to try – they guarded all of their logistical centers with war fleets, and they appear to be highly decentralized. While many of you have sought a victory, it would not come from a strike. We also had many homeworlds to defend. We could not strike until we had nothing else to lose, or we had a chance of winning. Such a chance has not presented itself – until now.”
The Council went into a frenzy. Elders, they did it, Kaltar thought. They found a way to stop this madness.
“Towards the beginning of this war, we had several carrier groups dispersed throughout the nearest satellite galaxy – now believed to be the B’qula home galaxy.” An image of the galaxy, ragged, small, roughly elliptical appeared. “They had been there on exploratory missions, looking for allies. Unfortunately, the races we did find there had mostly lost hyperdrive technology, and were in a state of turmoil. The only ally we found was the Bitalq – whose homeworld, K’Basal was shortly afterwards burned.” Takell indicated the white clad figures towards the center of the Council, who did not react. “Seven carrier groups remained behind to explore what they could. Soon, the entire galaxy fell to the B’qula.” The image of the satellite was swept by a wave of red – “But their mission remained. Three have already been hunted down. But towards the galaxy’s center, they noticed derelicts and relics. The survivors searched through star after star….We will now watch the feed from a probe that managed to be snuck into and launched on one such stop.”
A view of a planet, with vast, brown, desolate continents, some blue oceans, a heavily cratered moon in the distance, appeared. This world somehow appeared old to Kaltar, as if it had long past its prime. A sudden burst of static ended the transmission.
“It was not much, but it was enough…we were hoping for this.”
“Hoping for what?” asked the Taiidan.
“We have known of this place,” began the Bitalq sheklob. “Though you have long since forgotten it. It is the center of the war. It is the ancient place that once was all of our homes…In our language, it is named Hiqar. In the B’qula’s, it is called H’qura.”
H’qura. The B’qula homeworld. Home.
“H’qura is the world from which virtually all races in the Galaxy originate. It is the B’qula homeworld, and the place from which the war is monitored. It is…our opportunity,” Takell concluded.
The planet seemed so vulnerable in appearance. Yet, it was a bringer of death to trillions, according to the Bitalq. In a way, it seemed a little like Kaltar – appearing harmless on the outside, but one who killed on the inside.
“H’qura…that name is familiar,” said one delegate, looking at Takell. “Hiigara.”
“Hiigara was once the center of the B’qula in your Galaxy,” the Bitalq explained. “Its ancient name was H’quora’gala – meaning not only ‘home’, but ‘center’ and ‘radiant’. It was the director of the Quest in this galaxy. Over the millennia, most of the original language was forgotten. Only the very strongest words in meaning survived. H’quora’gala became Hiigara in that time, and while most of its meanings were lost, one persevered – it became a word that meant ‘home’ – in a deep, profound, spiritual sense.”
“Hiigara” – its power had once driven the Kushan across the Galaxy to their ancient home. But it echoed a much earlier, much bloodier migration. In that name, through all of that time, had been a hint of that dark past, a link to a much older home. H’qura.
“H’qura, as best as we can determine, holds together the empire on intergalactic scales. The B’qula are warriors, and do well at tactical planning as well as strategy over the short-term. But we have wondered how they could have strategically planned over one million years. They seem far too…mechanical for it. We have wondered why the B’qula could remain so unified, and why they have not turned against one another. H’qura, we believe, is the reason. Someone there, H’qurans, if you will, monitors the progress of the war on an intergalactic scale, processes the information it receives, and sends directives to the remote fleets. It is the brain of the Quest…it synchronizes our enemy.”
“If this world is so important to the B’qula, why have you not destroyed it yet?” demanded the Turanics. “An atmospheric deprivation device could stop them-”
“No,” interrupted the sheklob. “The surface of the planet is not the center of the Quest. From the ancient times, we have known of the Shrine: the Shrine to Dlak, and the Shrine to the Quest. It is not vulnerable in such a way. The Shrine and H’qura and the Quest are all linked…And just as H’qura lies at the center of the Quest, the Shrine lies at the center of H’qura. It is buried deep in its core.”
“What use is it to speak of H’qura if you cannot possibly destroy it?” the T-Mat demanded. “You would need to destroy the entire planet to stop the war.”
“We know,” Takell said grimly. “We would not be having this meeting now if we had not thought of something.”
An image of a ship – a huge one – appeared, long, dark, ominous.
Elders help us, thought Kaltar. The Council had built a planet-destroyer.
The other delegates were excited, though. In that thing they saw the chance to get back at the B’qula. Some were outright cheering. Kaltar felt a little sick, forcing back revulsion. The Bitalq had stopped his attempt to get back at the T-Mat, and his bond with Sannel showed how pointless it was. But no one would intervene and stop the Council. And an entire planet would be utterly destroyed for it. Just as there was no turning back for Kaltar after he had murdered the Bitalq Leader, there would be no turning back for the Council once it destroyed H’qura.
Fortunately, at least Takell did not seem too pleased about the prospect either. “It is the Retribution, the only of its kind. Our military, in conjunction with the Taiidan, the Turanics, the I’ao, and the Frrern have been working on this project since a little after the war started. We have not had much success for much of that time. Even now, we never could have built it – except that the Taiidan in conjunction with our fleet managed to defeat a planet-destroyer a month ago. Much of the materials used in the Retribution were salvaged from the wreck. Even then, it was not enough – had we not been able to decipher some files from captured B’qula ships…with the help of certain data about the Naggarok a month ago.” Takell gave Kaltar a short nod.
At least, the council acknowledged something good had come of Sannel. Kaltar, though, felt horrible that it would be attached to this monster.
“Unfortunately,” Takell continued. “This technology is far from mastered. We have built three small prototypes – the Justice, the Remembrance, and the Survival – and their tests suggest it will work. However…it is just too far head of us. In ten, twenty years, perhaps… The predictions are that it will burn itself when firing – rendering it useless after the first shot. The radiation will kill anyone aboard. It will take two hours to charge that shot…Even if it is successful, the EM pulse from the destruction of the planet will incapacitate any starship nearby. Similar considerations apply to the prototypes, although to a lesser magnitude.”
“But it will stop the B’qula,” asked the K’nal’deq delegate.
“No, it probably will not,” answered Takell.
The Council was confused. Many had probably already anticipate the opportunity to strike back; to have it denied was upsetting.
“If it will not be useful to strike there, then why did you bring us all here and tell us all of this?” demanded the Turanics.
“I did not say it would not be useful, only that destroying H’qura would not stop them. The B’qula can plan very well on the short-term. They could still defeat us even if H’qura was gone. It is in the long-term they would suffer. They are too rigid to adapt to new threats. The reaches of their empire will not be coordinated. Eventually, miscommunications will arise between the different fronts among the galaxies. The fleet will end up interfering with one another, and ultimately they will turn against one another. We cannot stop them directly, but we can set them off balance by destroying H’qura, so that they will eventually trip over themselves,” Takell explained. “In a few million years – perhaps much less – the B’qula will be no more.”
This was not about saving lives, then. It was the ultimate act of spite.
“And…all of this will happen – the complete fall of the B’qula – if we destroy H’qura with the one planet-destroyer you have managed to build?” asked one.
“We believe so, yes.”
“You make H’qura seem very vulnerable,” stated the Taiidan. “Surely they would have some backup measures or contingency plans.”
“They probably do,” Takell answered. “They have a rather recursive structure – centers of operations scattered throughout the galaxies. But none are as centrally located as H’qura, and probably none as well suited to coordinating them. Likely several new centers would emerge, and they would end up competing with one another. We believe that the B’qula themselves merely kill and colonize – they are too specialized. They obviously cannot manage empires over millions of years – otherwise we would not be here.
“Nor did they suspect that H’qura would be vulnerable. As far as they knew, there were no enemies within their space. H’qura, they thought, was millions of light years from any enemies. If they had thought otherwise, that their own empire had long since crumbled, they would have come back long ago. It is possible that had the inner galaxies not lost contact, there would have been dozens of H’quras linked together. Then, we would have no chance. But now, we have a chance.”
Even Kaltar was starting to become convinced.
“Do not underestimate the task ahead,” Takell continued, warning. “The B’qula now occupy that galaxy. H’qura itself is now likely guarded by fleets – as well as ancient defense weapons. We are going to need a large fleet – the largest the Council has ever seen – and we must do it quietly.
“That is why we brought you here today. This is not just about a planet, or a few star systems, or a race. What we are proposing is nothing short of a Galactic fleet. We will be asking every race with a remaining military force to contribute one-third of the starships they have remaining.”
The Council was in silence, awed.
“We will be breaking the fleet into small groups – dozens of them. They will leave at designated, staggered times. We are hoping it will be inconspicuous to the B’qula. From there, they will follow meandering courses to the satellite galaxy – a travel time of several weeks for some. We believe this will throw off the enemy and prevent them from deducing our plans.
“You may be underestimating them as well,” the Taiidan interrupted. “Some fo the fleets probably will be found, and the B’qula will pursue.”
“We know. We are counting upon that, actually. We hope the B’qula will eventually notice and will pursue – not too soon – with a large fraction of their forces. With many of the B’qula gone, we will be able to fulfill a secondary goal - evacuation of the Galaxy. With the quiet created back here, the Arks will slip into the globular clusters in the Galaxy’s halo. From there, they can hide, away from the bulk of the attention, and prepare for eventually leaving.
“Meanwhile, the fleets will begin attacking B’qula targets throughout the satellite. They will appeared to be scattered, and hopefully desperate. Truly, though, the fleets will be inching nearer to H’qura, feinting and throwing them off. We hope the Tangent will contribute in this respect, given their…expertise in this matter.”
“It sounds interesting,” answered one Tangent representative. “Though we are not sure we wish to commit to anything yet. We prefer to move on our own.”
“Please do consider it. If we fail…you will be trapped here, like the rest of us.”
The Tangent seemed a little disinterested, although that very well could have been an act. Many preferred to appear mysterious.
The display zoomed in on the red-stained galaxy whose image had been summoned up again, resolving stars as it seemingly dove in near the center. At last, towards the core lay one star, other floating nearby. Surrounding the central star were several shells of red dots. “We will gather in a rough sphere around H’qura. Once we move, though, it will have to be quick. The H’quran system is surrounded by concentric spheres of inhibitors. If we destroy one, the enemy will be alerted to it. This is what happened to our carrier groups probing the system – they were quickly destroyed. We will have to destroy them and rush inwards to H’qura.
The image zoomed in again, now displaying H’qura and its large moon.
“Then, we will strike. The mere threat of our fleets may be enough to force a surrender from them.”
“But you once said the B’qula could not stop fighting even if they wanted to,” the Taiidan pointed out. “It is not likely.
“We know. In which case your fleets will have to protect the Retribution, as well as the two prototypes we will be bringing. The prototypes might take out the largest opposing ships – planet-destroyers, if they are there. Then, the Retribution will fire. H’qura will be destroyed. Our fleets will likely be incapacitated, but we will have done irreparable damage to them…In the confusion that follows, the Arks will be able to flee the Galaxy through a slipgate network built in the globular clusters.”
It was visionary in scope, a horrendous piece of planning, strategically and logistically. It was the type of thing that made the Elders so worshipful of the Hiigarans.
“This may be our only chance. We are giving you secure frequencies to your homeworlds to speak of it…We will be sending fake messages to confuse the B’qula…Until we meet later, are there any who wish to object?”
It was a suicidal plan, one that would destroy a planet, one that had little purpose beyond revenge. But the Elders would want to contribute to. Kaltar could think of no real reason to object anyway – it really was their only chance. It did not feel right, but he would go along with it.
For some time, no one spoke.
Then, finally, the Bentusi said. “It is regrettable that we will have to do this.” Even they, pacifists, believed it inevitable.
“Yes, it is,” replied Takell with regret. “We will reconvene later. You are dismissed.”

“…The Hiigarans are hoping these measures will ultimately stop our enemy and allow for the evacuation of the Galaxy. The plan has virtually unanimous support. We are asked to contribute,” concluded Kaltar.
“You seem less than enthused,” observed Great Elder Kelak.
“Do I?” asked Kaltar. “…We are going to be destroying a planet, murdering millions. Surely we should not be taking pleasure in it.”
“Those millions – and that planet – have been responsible for the deaths of trillions, including over forty million of our own people,” reminded the Elder sternly. “We must stop them. At this point, it is us or them. I would rather it would be us who live.”
It was clear that she did not want to debate the subject. Kaltar tried not to blame her – she now resided on an Ark, where living conditions were even than on this bare, new Station. Still, Kaltar had hoped she would be immune to the inferno.
“It turns out the Hiigarans will save us once again,” Kelak continued. “As their Exodus helped liberate us from the Taiidan, this fleet will help liberate us from the B’qula.” But, of course, the fleet would not really liberate anyone, only destroy. “The Hiigarans are truly saviors. It reaffirms my belief in the Elders.”
Kaltar remembered holding Sannel as she cried, trying to escape, wanting death so badly. That moment, the most intimate he had ever had with a Hiigaran, had weakened his beliefs. Now, he was beginning to question them. But few Zaala actually knew Hiigarans, only worshipped them.
He did not answer.
“Tell them that we will enthusiastically send the necessary ships to them.”
“I will relay that immediately,” Kaltar said.
“I am afraid that we will not be able to spare the diplomatic ship, the…”
“Telana,” he finished for her.
“Yes, the Telana. It must go to H’qura – we are running low on ships – and unless you want to go also, it will not be available for you.”
“Actually, I have been thinking…I might want to go along.”
She certainly wasn’t expecting that. “Surely you are joking-“
Kaltar wanted to go to H’qura, but not for revenge or justice. H’qura was the source of the fire, the center of the inferno. As soon as he had seen that brief image of it, he had an odd sensation: he felt it inevitable that he would go there. While Kaltar was beginning to recover from the ancient wound in his soul, he would have to face the ultimate fire before he could be sure it had been healed.
“While we are sending fleets in case the B’qula attack us…we are not sending any diplomats. What if they surrender – or they decide they want peace after all? We may need a Zaala representative to help in the negotiations.”
“But – there…if you go there, you probably will never return.”
“I know,” Kaltar answered.
“I – just don’t see what the point would be,” said the confused Elder.
“Is that not the best reason – we do not know what will happen? Something unexpected and unforeseen may occur.”
Kelak must have thought him insane, but Kaltar liked the way it sounded. He would convince her, had to. He had to go to H’qura.
“We…will talk about this later. Until then, relay our vote. To the Zaala people.”

Kaltar drifted through the confining halls of the Council. The halls were once again full of activity, a nearly festive atmosphere. Throngs of people clotted the passageway, discussing cheerfully, as if the war had already been won.
“…I am glad we are finally doing something about them…”
“…This should have come months ago. Had the Unbound planned better…”
“…The galactic fleet…I always supported such a fleet, but never have I heard of it gaining widespread support. It will be the greatest achievement of our age…”
Once, they had been peacemakers. Now they were warmongers.
“…We will at last have justice! We have been given an opportunity. While it is far too little, far too late for us, some of you still have a chance,” said the K’nal’deq delegate. “To you, I say – honor the memories of those who fell before you. Know that your own lives are at stake. And to those who have doubts, look upon the hundreds of burned worlds around you. Can you honestly sacrifice the Galaxy to the likes of them? Do you support the Galaxy, or will you idly let it be annihilated? Let us all join together to strike back!”
Others assented. The K’nal’deq had become an ardent supporter of an offensive against the B’qula months ago, when such a move was resisted due to the number of ships it would take away from defending homeworlds. However, they had won many to their cause as the worlds fell. Now, none disagreed. The offensive, the revenge they wanted so much was inevitable. Kaltar wondered if they would truly want it so much after it had been launched.
The K’nal’deq saw him, stopped. “…It is you,” he said at last. “Have you come to show your disagreement again? Because I think you will find the audience less sympathetic.”
“I do not want a fight,” Kaltar said.
“With me or with the B’qula?” asked the K’nal’deq.
“Or the T-Mat?” asked another. Word had spread about his confrontation.
“With none of them, if I can manage it.” He took a step onwards – he did not want to become embroiled in a confrontation with a fellow Council delegate.
“You do not care that they burned you homeworld?”
“Of course I care.”
“You forgive them?” he asked as if such a thing was physically impossible.
“Of course I do not.”
“Then why have you not joined us in supporting the war?”
“I am – “
“We are not talking about official decrees and formal declarations, Zaala!” The K’nal’deq approached, coming to his side.
Kaltar himself stopped. If I am going to face H’qura, I better be able to face him.
“They have killed remorselessly, murdered our families, destroyed all that we hold dear! They want to kill every one of us! Do you understand? If they could, they would kill you too! How can you be indifferent? I – and many others here - am joining the fleet to be a part of the justice we will be seeking – will you serve your people in the same way?”
“I intend to go to H’qur,” he answered. The K’nal’deq stopped, surprised. His face broke into a smile. They did not realize that there was more than one reason to go.
“You – a warrior – “
“No. I am going as a diplomat.”
There was a silence. Then, the other delegates began laughing.
“I mean it,” Kaltar said over them. “After all, we are delegates to the Galactic Council, an instrument of peace. Should it be a surprise that I would want peace. Or am I the only one who is struck by the irony of it becoming a vehicle for war?“
When they realized he was serious, they stopped, uneasy.
“You can’t be serious,” said the K’nal’deq.
“I am.”
“The B’qula are animals! Killing machines! They cannot be – you cannot – you - “
Kaltar remained silent.
“Your experience with the T-Mat aside,” the K’nal’deq began. “You simply do not understand.”
Kaltar faced him. “You are wrong. I do understand. It doesn’t matter who the target is – the feeling is the same.”
The K’nal’deq did not answer directly. “We will destroy H’qura. Then the war will end. We will have our payback. Do you stand with us or against us?”
“Do you honestly believe that is it? Destroying H’qura is all that matters?”
“I do not have to listen to this.”
“Because it will only stop them after millions of years! You will never see the results.”
“I said – “
“And what happens after H’qura is destroyed?”
“There – nothing.”
“I do know revenge, and I know it will not be the end of it. It does not simply go away, it grows and grows – until it consumes your soul, until there’s nothing left to you. You’ll want it, even if all the B’qula are gone.”
“That is stupidity.” His muscles were tensing up, his fists clenching.
“It’s growing on you, and it is in me. Are you saying you are only angry at the B’qula – that no part of you will ever blame another? Has it not occurred to you that we will just end up fighting each other?”
“Get away – either support us or leave now.”
“Tell me – answer me – what are you going to do once H’qura is gone?”
The K’nal’deq punched him, and Kaltar woke up on the ground. Blood was pooling up in his nose. He wanted to stop the K’nal’deq, who would not restrain himself, stop them all from destruction.
But he must not.
He opened his fists, began to stood up.
Here was his chance to strike back. The others were clearly expecting it. He regarded the K’nal’deq for a long moment in the silence. Anger filled him, ready to act.
“I thought that would be your answer,” Kaltar managed to say.
He walked away.

The Elders had, after much debate, agreed to his proposal. He would go on the Telana, officially as a diplomat. News had traveled that other delegates were going along to H’qura, as well as many other civilians who sought their chance to get vengeance, and with the fleets depleted, they were accepted. Kaltar was sickened to think that so many wanted to risk themselves in such a way. While he had not found a way to deal with grief, he did know that mutual annihilation was not the answer. The Elders probably thought he also went for revenge. It did not matter. He knew that he could not heal everyone. What mattered was that he was going to H’qura.
“We share your concerns,” said the Bitalq sheklob. Kaltar spun to find the Bitalq behind him. They did not seem to react – not that they ever did, merely watching him.
“The others…they do not understand what they are getting into. They are facing oblivion and still they feel as if they have already won.”
“One clings to whatever hope one finds,” the Bitalq said, looking at him from under the hood.
“They do not understand what it is going to do to them.”
The Bitalq paused. “Are you against this coming battle?”
Kaltar considered it. “I believe it is necessary. It is our only chance to stop the B’qula. And it will save trillions millennia from now…so on one level, no. But on another – it just feels so wrong to be destroying a planet. Must we sink to their level?”
“Yet they destroy to kill, but we destroy to save life.”
“But that’s not it…I understand this is a war and we have to fight…but too many take H’qura personally. They act as though destroying it will solve all of their problems. But it won’t – the B’qula will still have enough power to destroy us all… And even if they were stopped…Takell said it would take a thousand years to rebuild the Galaxy. The deaths – H’qura will not bring them back. When they realize that, they will continue to be angry…I see the Galaxy falling apart.”
“Perhaps we were not wrong about you.”
“What – what do you mean?”
“There is hope for you, after all.”
It gave Kaltar no comfort. “And what about the rest?”
“There is hope for them too,” the Bitalq assured.
“But how – how can we prevent them – help them?” he wondered.
“The same way we have helped you. By giving the few answers we have to those who need it, one person at a time.”
“But that cannot – I am not even sure I am healed.”
“No, you are not,” the sheklob said. “But you are facing in the right direction. You only have to take the steps.”
Kaltar was unconvinced. But he would not argue with them – they knew more about it than he did. “I am going to H’qura too.”
“Not for revenge.”
“No – as a peacemaker, officially…but really…I just want to see the place – if it really is the cause of so much hate. I want to understand why…the B’qula are as they are. Because if I can…if I can, then maybe I can understand myself. And then, maybe there is a way to stop the madness – for everyone.”
“As we have said: there is hope for you.”
“That’s it? Doesn’t it concern you – “
“We can tell you that if you go to H’qura, you very likely will die. But you know that, and you know there are more important things than death.”
“But, still – “
“We believe in a Quest, like the B’qula, except that ours is spiritual, and we realize the error of killing for it. Perhaps this is your Quest. Perhaps as you must spiritually journey to the answers you want, you must journey to this world…as we will.”
“You are going to H’qura?” Kaltar asked, incredulous. “Why?”
“That is part of our Quest.”
“And what is your Quest?”
“To find answers – the reason for all of the suffering in the Universe. Not unlike your desires.”
“And…H’qura will give you those answers?” he wondered.
“We all arose from H’qura. Since the beginning of our people, we knew we must someday return there. While we did not have the technology to support such a search…we knew it was inevitable. And now, it remains inevitable. We will go to H’qura, as you go.”
“Will you tell me what you find there?”
“We concern ourselves with all life. We wish for you to find your answers.” They began gliding past him.
“I hope you find yours too,” Kaltar called after them. “I think we need them.”
“The halls filled with a chant.
“eq aq-alek aq-op-et-Dlak-ot-shek op-er-mfak-et-sal
“eq aq-alek aq-op-et-Dlak-ot-shek, eshem ok-um-aqek op-et-mfak-et-sal upom-Hiqar.”
Kaltar knew what they were saying, somehow.
Sing to us, Dlak,
Sing to us as we all go to H’qura.

Kaltar prepared to leave, packing his few possessions in his room. A few times, he found himself searching for the golden vial that had come along for so many of his travels. But, no – he had given that to Sannel, over a month ago. In some ways, it was hard to accept – but in another, he was glad he had done it.
A computer informed him that Takell wished to speak with him. He opened the channel, and an image of Takell appeared before him.
“I wanted to thank your people for their support,” Takell began.
“Oh…you did not need to go to all of that trouble.”
“I am going around to every delegate,” Takell said. “You can be assured that I am not giving you special treatment.”
“You are welcome, then,” Kaltar answered uneasy. “…You must know that this plan will not solve our problems.”
“I know. But, I was not the one who came up with it.”
“Did you hear about…where I am going?”
He nodded. “I have. It is unwise if you are concerned about your survival…But, given how far the B’qula have come, perhaps it may not matter anyway. The Bitalq told me of your motives – I found them quite impressive. …I think we need more people like you.”
Kaltar laughed.
“I mean it,” Takell said. “In a Galaxy now consumed with war and hate, it is a welcome change to know someone is concerned with peace. Many of the other delegates want only destruction – and it is hard to blame them, given how much they have lost. But, you have also lost much, and aside from a few - problems, despite your feelings, you still try to do good. It is a rare sight in recent times.”
“Personally, I think the Galaxy needs more people like you. You remain calm, level-headed, fair–“
“I am just a Hiigaran who is too set in his ways of maintaining peace and doing the best job he can,” Takell replied. “I have not faced adversity like you.”
There was a silence. “You do realize that even if your people’s plan works, even if all the feints and traps and ships work, even – even if H’qura is destroyed, we are never going to see the Galaxy where it once was in our lifetimes. Too many would be ready to take advantage of the situation…and we would be facing centuries of rebuilding. We are only helping a future we will never see.”
“I know.”
“Are you going to H’qura?” Kaltar asked.
“I am unsure…maybe – after all, maybe there will be peace.”
“If you do go…I wish you the best of luck.”
“I wish you the best of luck too. Farewell.”
“Goodbye.”
The image vanished.
Kaltar accessed another image – the fleet outside the Council station. There were hundreds of ships from many races. Several – including the Telana – would soon be leaving for H’qura. The Council station itself seemed overwhelmed by the myriad.
It could not possibly work, but they would try it anyway.
Kaltar gazed upon the distant stars and wondered where Sannel was, what she was doing.

Sannel’s ship glided through hyperspace, Junan’s ship not too far away. She had had little luck searching through the derelicts, but she continued to try. She had heard communications about plans for an offensive, against what seemed to be the B’qula homeworld. She had briefly toyed with the idea of joining the fleets, but realized that H’qura was not where she belonged – not in the center with the flames of war, but on the frigid edges of the galaxy.
At least, Junan and Ship were there to keep her company. Sometimes, they would even try to play a game, a hide and seek. It was silly, of course: Junan’s ship was faster than hers, and could cloak, but still, it would give her a smile or a laugh. Here, near the Galactic Rim, far away from the light and splendor of the Core, there was little more precious.
Not for the first time, she wondered what Kaltar was doing.
She tried to be still, calm, trying only to block out the songs of hyperspace. She knew it would help her weak Visions, for what little good they did her. Still, the songs taunted her. But she had to try, had to try to continue.
Minutes passed, hours. She had tried this for days with no luck. But, at the moment, she had little else worthwhile to try.
Her ship coasted farther outwards, its course changing with her commands. Nothing appeared on sensors. Only Junan’s presence and the eternal song of hyperspace, betrayed any activity in existence. She merely listened. It felt as if she could listen for hours, days, years. The siren call of hyperspace filled her.
Sannel, Junan said. Sannel.
Yes? she asked dreamily, roused a little from the stillness.
Sannel, look.
She snapped out of her reverie, focusing her attention.
A reading appeared roughly ahead, very faintly. Ship dived closer, Junan following.
Instinctively, Sannel applied the readings Kaltar had given her. It was a long shot, but there was always a possibility…There was a match. Something – someone the T-Mat had sensed before – was here, putting off high-energy electromagnetic and gravitational radiation.
…Kaltar…they were right, Sannel thought. Ship moved to intercept it. Sannel would know what it was, would know it all.
Careful, Junan said.
I will be. She brought Ship within thousands of kilometers, decelerating. The reading changed course, heading towards them. Sannel could feel a presence in her mind, voices.
Ship slowed to a relative stop, but the others approached, the…them pressing on her thoughts.
Whispers filled her mind, overpowering her. They saturated her, a frenzy rising in her mind, feeling as if Junan was making her Dream. But this was different, more powerful.
At last, Sannel had found the Whispering Ones.
The whispers blocked out all of existence, Junan and Ship and even her own Bound body. Sannel was falling, falling into darkness and quiet and col. She shivered.
Others were watching her.
“If only you could have come farther,” Tasiin said.
“I am not – where – what is happening?” she asked. “Why is this happening?”
“Do not worry, Sannel,” Datlai added. “But you should not push yourself.”
“I do not care,” Sannel said. “I want to understand. Even if you do not care about me…I want answers.”
“No, you do not,” Tasiin replied gravely. “You have learned much – but not all. You do not want the rest. You do not want to know the last secrets.”
“Just what do you want of me?” she demanded.
“Sannel-“ Datlai began.
“Tell me, now.”
They did not answer. But a coldness insinuated itself in Sannel, up her spine, into her brain, hurting. A deep, dark shadow fell over her.
The Voice. You understand them, but not us.
“Just who are you?” Sannel asked into the space around her, into the abyss that was the Universe.
The Voice was filled with amusement. Have you not understood yet? Do not fear. Do not fear us.
A shiver wracked her body. Suddenly, she made the realization, the answer so obvious, making the long dark journey of her life still darker. She should have known it much earlier.
“I know who you are. I know-“
Do not fear, reflection of the Bright One. Come to us. Come, Outside said.
Sannel sank towards oblivion.

In her sleep, Sannel thought she heard voices, whispers, talking.
…At last we have found her.
…We will need to beware of…circumvent…
…Now…we may begin with her.
…In a way, it makes one feel sorry for the child-mind.

MissingSea

20th Jun 02, 5:07 PM

The Collector

20th Jun 02, 9:16 PM

Haven't even gotten to Chapter 10 yet...

Good stuff all the way through. I don't think I can suggest improvements, I don't see any real problems except for the fact it isn't in layman. That is either a good thing or bad thing, depending on target audience.

So no bad news yet.

nickersonm

21st Jun 02, 3:43 AM

Oooh, very interesting chapter. But I thought Outside was destroyed? Or mabey a piece of it lived on... well, I'll see in the next chapter or two or three :) Good work! I hope to read more.

- nickersonm

dzurlord

21st Jun 02, 4:20 AM

:yippee: :yippee: :read: :dance: :wave:

Xellos

24th Jun 02, 9:43 PM

Originally posted by nickersonm
Oooh, very interesting chapter. But I thought Outside was destroyed? Or mabey a piece of it lived on... well, I'll see in the next chapter or two or three :) Good work! I hope to read more.

- nickersonm

And now, finally, some begin to understand. Of course, I walk inside the event horizon, while others circled outside. But Brian never told me, even when I voiced my suspicions to him.

Interesting, with the Tangent, Brian. Though knowing those connivers, I'd not be at all surprised if they don't have their own plan to deal with the B'qula Homeworld. *evil smile* And I don't care how powerful your technology, there are some forces in the universe that just cannot be stopped.

Brian, you've done a superb job. Sorry I've not written lately, been sick as a dog. *sigh*

Keep up the wonderous work, my friend.

Shadow Stalker

25th Jun 02, 1:55 PM

I have been expecting Outside to make an appearance ever since I reread Outside a few months ago and came across this.

<<Tasiin looked down at his body, which glowed with a ghostly light. He knew it would never leave him, and might indeed spread. “Outside. What remains of it,” he said.>>

Edric O

28th Jun 02, 4:33 PM

More, MORE!
Must... FEED... :D

I don't think I understand that last part of chapter 19 yet (Outside confused me), but I'm sure the next chapters will clear things up in my mind. Right now I'm just imagining what would happen if the B'qula would discover Outside... :argh:

http://forums.relicnews.com/images/smiley/read.gif http://forums.relicnews.com/images/smiley/read.gif http://forums.relicnews.com/images/smiley/read.gif

The Reflection

2nd Jul 02, 8:42 PM

Yet again another excellent chapter. You are one of the few authors on these boards that I can sit and read for hours on end, without needing a break. Your writing style is so refreshing, and ingenuitive. Though I hope that it isn't too long till you finish off chapter 20.
Well, thank you, MissingSea. I hope people can read it for the lengths its getting to - it's getting pretty long, even for a novel. Although I'm glad I still evidentally have at least some readers.

Haven't even gotten to Chapter 10 yet...
Oh...um, you might want to ignore all of the stuff in the replies about the Kaaltow, the Bitalq, the Beast, and Outside. ;)

Good stuff all the way through. I don't think I can suggest improvements, I don't see any real problems except for the fact it isn't in layman. That is either a good thing or bad thing, depending on target audience.
So no bad news yet.
That's actually the first time someone has brought that up to me - although I can see how NC can be confusing. I suppose I'd want the target audience as wide as possible, although I really don't expect 100% of the population to understand it or love it. I guess my main target audience would be the boardies here - although I am treating it as practice for when I really want to write a novel. The target audience of such novels, I imagine would be SF readers, especially those into hard SF (that in which science and technology are more integral to the plot). So, I suppose the doses of science that come with that - as well as the complex plot turns I'm putting into this thing - can overwhelm some. Still, many of the boardies here seem to be following at least fairly well, and I don't want to insult their intelligence.
On the other hand, many of the more science-infused parts that may confuse readers (for example, you may not know what exactly a globular cluster is; the talk in chapter 10 between Glaan and Hilya; the description of the operation of the planet-destroyer; and a few things in chapter 20) are not really necessary to be understood. I'd hope you can appreciate NC even if a few parts are unclear.
Thanks for bringing it up to my attention, Collector.

Oooh, very interesting chapter. But I thought Outside was destroyed? Or mabey a piece of it lived on... well, I'll see in the next chapter or two or three Good work! I hope to read more.
Three things to keep in mind when reading NC:
"Nothing is as obvious as it seems." - Datlai
Remember us...Someday you will understand. - Outside
"The worst enemy is the self." - Tasiin
Oh yes, and it will be explained this chapter.
Thank you, nickersonm.

I have been expecting Outside to make an appearance ever since I reread Outside a few months ago and came across this...
Exactly. I'm not trying to throw you off with everything - I put that in for a deliberate reason: because it'd play into NC.

Just out of curiousity, how many were actually expecting Outside to show up? I figure that since it was, in a sense, a sequel to Outside, there should be some greater connection then there being Naggarok launchers and giving Sannel the occasional nightmare.

Also, did many of you realize the Voice was really Outside, but just didn't understand how it could have survived? If it helps, you can go back and replace "Outside" everywhere you see "The Voice". I thought it was fairly apparent, and I didn't try to hide the fact too much. Or were you all convinced Outside was completely defeated?

Although I must say...after posting chapter 2 (or maybe 3; I don't have that thread), some said that they wanted to see another story with Outside instead of the Naggarok launchers. I was a little amused - this is another story with Outside.

And now, finally, some begin to understand. Of course, I walk inside the event horizon, while others circled outside. But Brian never told me, even when I voiced my suspicions to him.
Well, actually, I think I did really imply that the Voice was Outside...although I haven't answered your ending guess yet. On the other hand, just after I posted chapter one, he e-mailed me, wondering if Outside would show up again (and correctly surmised another element of the ending). It didn't even take the Voice to pop up for that.
On the other hand, you still don't know what those Whispering Ones are (I hope)...

And I don't care how powerful your technology, there are some forces in the universe that just cannot be stopped.
My thoughts exactly. :D

Right now I'm just imagining what would happen if the B'qula would discover Outside...
Good question. Probably they would think, The Impure Hiigarans have imprisoned holy D'lact! and be pushed into even more of a frenzy.
But Outside is a little more careful and subtle than that...

Thank you Edric O, and thank you dzurlord.

Chapter 20, of course, awaits.
We're getting closer: Four more chapters and an epilogue, three more updates. This chapter continues to push NC closer and closer to the end...and I hope it will be interesting.
Once again, it is a really dark chapter, and fairly long too. And as I said parts of it may be a little hard to understand, and much of it is strange...and perhaps disturbing. I think you will be able to get the general idea, though.
I hope you enjoy.

The Reflection

2nd Jul 02, 8:45 PM

20
Whispering Ones
Most do not realize how powerful Outside truly was. Some act or speak as if its defeat was inevitable. I know it was not. It was our defeat that that should have been inevitable…Outside was far more powerful than the Bentusi, or the T-Mat, or even the Beast.
…My growth was not linear, not geometrical, but exponential. The greater my powers, the faster they grew. Outside and I – for a moment – were dozens of orders of magnitude beyond the Bentusi and the T-Mat – greater than the difference between a carbon atom and a Kharakian…
While many speak of the Bentusi in awe, there is a vast range far beyond them. Intelligence could be capable of remaking whole galaxies and still not near Outside. There may be races who could crush the Council in a matter of days or hours, races millions or billions of years old.
…We see no evidence of such giants. They would have interfered with us long ago by simply existing…Still, the Universe is old, and it is humbling to know who could still be out there.

Tasiin Limandatt’sa
Excerpted from Journeys Outside, Through the Door
GSY 9559 (49 AHL)

Sannel stirred, weakly murmuring to herself as she slept. She shivered sporadically, her breath ragged. Her Bound body shifted under the white blanket Kaltar had given her that was wrapped around her.
A touch, a whisper woke her, her mind reaching awareness. She saw…something. It did not matter. Sannel immediately fell back to sleep.
Wake her, someone seemed to whisper.
Another touch, more forceful, pushed her back to wakefulness.
Leave me alone, she said.
Whispers surrounded her, filled her. Sannel snapped to awareness. She pulled the white blanket around her tightly.
Sannel’s ship was in normal space; Ship seemed unresponsive. Junan was nowhere to be found. Before Ship lay a concentration of energies – extraordinarily powerful, gravitational and electromagnetic waves emanating in complex patterns. She felt them in her mind – cold, alien, powerful.
The Whispering Ones.
Who are you? she asked.
They remained silent.
What do you want of me?
Silence.
Why?
Nothing.
Sannel sighed; for a moment, she shivered. She pulled the blanket closer.
A headache flared through Sannel, and she remembered. The Voice. Outside. It was not defeated after all. But she should have expected it, especially after seeing the Beast in the Tarl system. She could trust nothing, certainly not Tasiiin.
Yes, they said. Outside.
That was how she heard it. Underlying meanings whispered around her, hinting at complexities and subtleties. They were stooping down to her level, so they could talk.
That’s why you are doing this. Outside, she repeated.
Yes, answered the Whispering Ones.
As if summoned, the Voice – Outside rose up, filling Sannel, kaleidoscoping around her, overshadowing her. Sannel withdrew, folding inwards, but it was all around her. Outside was a part of her.
Do not fear us, Outside said to her.
Leave me, Sannel replied.
You have no reason to fear. We have always been with you.
I said, go away.
A vast sense of impatience – and amusement – encompassed her. We have helped you, reflection of the Bright One. You have kept putting yourself in danger, and we have continued to save you. We were responsible for your escape from the –
-The 079s, she finished. She remembered their final words, as Ship had jumped to hyperspace: You do not know who she is! You do not know what she holds! She- Sannel had thought it referred to the Beast, but now it made full sense. They had recognized Outside, knew its power, and they had nearly succeeded in warning all. Had they stayed a few seconds longer, she probably would have been killed upon her return. For that matter, she probably would have agreed to it. She had thought herself to be descendants of Tasiin and Datlai, Defeaters of Outside, not one of its carriers.
I never wanted your help.
Outside was growing more impatient, more angry. Bright One understood. You, however, have been difficult. You do not accept who you are. You do not accept us. You do not realize even what you are.
Sannel huddled, trying to pull the blanket around her. But it was already around her, tightly wrapped. She could not help but shiver.
They fear us, Outside continued.
You mean they fear you, Sannel bitterly replied.
And you. You are our vessel that threatens them…We have sensed them before. They have sensed us.
How convenient for both of you then that we should all meet.
Outside regarded her. You should speak with them. Do not displease us. We do not know what they want…they – like the rest – probably seek to destroy us.
I don’t care.
They can kill you, Outside added angrily.
I don’t care!
They may have already killed your companion.
I- Outside was talking about Junan. She was no closer to finding out what had happened to him, if he was even alive. Nor did she know anything about the Whispering Ones, other than they knew about Outside – and could incapacitate her at any time.
Junan, she said. Then, I will talk to them…Leave me.
Outside still swirled around her.
Leave me. Now.
You understand nothing. After a silence, it added, The Bright One did not understand at first either. We will withdraw. We will return. Outside did as it said, subsiding.
Sannel took a moment. She buried her knees, buried her face in them. Her reality was tumbling apart. A little over a month ago, she had managed to find a peace, and a bond with Kaltar and Junan. Now only Junan and Ship remained, and it seemed likely she would lose Junan as well. When had it all gone wrong?
Sannel held onto Ship for a moment, whom had waken up during the conversation, trying to seek warmth. Then, she focused her attention on the Whispering Ones. They were watching her.
…Is what – Outside said true? Do you fear us? she asked.
You are an unknown. We must learn, they replied.
What have you done to Junan? Sannel demanded.
His ship appeared, dropping out of hyperspace. It glided over – at their will – until it was between them. He does not belong here. He must not interfere. We present to you the options of sending him away – or we must destroy him.
Sannel felt a horribly sick feeling. She had just met him. Couldn’t they be together longer? Must she lose everyone? I want to speak to him.
She could feel Junan being brought back to awareness, could hear the whispers in her mind. Sannel projected over to his ship. Junan, she called. He could not hear her yet. When he had risen enough, she called again. Junan.
Sannel, he at last said, disorientated. What – where am I?
She simultaneously wanted to be happy and to cry. I don’t know. I do not who they are or what they want-
-Don’t worry, Sannel. We will find some way to-
-No, Junan. They…they say you will interfere.
Interfere with what? asked Junan.
I don’t know! The frustration, the despair of it all was getting to her. She had come for answers, but was instead finding the few she had being pried from her.
Junan touched her mind lightly, a caress. She looked at him, wanting so much to return it. But she must not. He must leave.
Junan – don’t. Leave while you still can.
How will you protect yourself against them? he asked.
I will manage…I think they want me alive.
And you are going to let them do whatever they please with you. I will stay.
He did not understand. You will be in great danger.
You said that before, Junan reminded her.
But this time I mean it!
There was an awkward silence.
Sannel, I was there with you in Globular Cluster 079. And even though it did no good, I tried to help and protect you. I swore to guard you from every enemy. It is my duty and desire to remain with you. This is not different than Globular Cluster 079.
But it is different, Sannel replied, feeling her mind go blank and numb. In that place, we merely had a legend and a feeling that seemed ominous. Here, they have given you a clear warning – leave or die.
I will not leave, Junan said. He said it as if to be in a comforting, reassuring way, but he did not believe it himself.
But…then you will die.
If that is what happens, I can accept it.
I don’t want you to die, Sannel admitted.
…This is who we are, Junan responded. I must make every attempt.
No, she at last refused.
Sannel.
No, Junan, you are leaving.
Sannel-
She cried out her answer. I am not going to watch you kill yourself. Leave now. Go. If you do not, then I will kill myself so it will be the last thing you ever, ever see!
Junan stopped, shocked. You don’t-
-I mean it. I have lost too many already. If you want to help me, leave so I can at least hope that you are alive…Protect Kaltar. Please. That would make me happy…But I am not going to let you sacrifice yourself like this. Either you go…or we both die, watching it happen to each other and feeling each other’s pain.
There was a pause.
Perhaps the T-Mat are your personal servants. You must have cloaked their ships. How long have you been practicing?
Sannel let out a saddened laugh. She caressed his mind, then focused on his soliloquy, a light, imaginary touch on her lips. He responded, and the feeling, the warmth resonated. She felt as if they were in each other’s arms. They came closer, beginning again to kiss.
No. She pulled away. You have to leave.
Junan was hesitating. He would be having second thoughts. She wanted him to go, though, before he changed his mind.
Yes, he at last said. Goodbye, Sannel. I will find Kaltar…Perhaps we will meet again.
Perhaps, she answered. Goodbye.
His ship turned, began accelerating away. Sannel turned her attention away.
He did not jump immediately, though. Junan focused on her. Sannel…I love you.
Sannel was silent. It would be, should be so easy to reply in kind. He deserved it. But she must not. She could not bear to. She narrowed her attention, focusing on the Whispering Ones, commanding Ship to pull away, wanting desperately to run away.
Ship distantly told her Junan was jumping to hyperspace. Sannel tried not to think about it, though. The blanket had fallen away again. She pulled it back around her, tightly.
Are you ready to leave? asked the Whispering Ones.
Yes, Sannel distantly answered.
As they left, she pressed her face into her hands, resting it on her knees. The pressure, the hurt held back the tears.

Once, Outside had spanned a vast range of time scales, up to ebbing and flowing over many millennia, and had presided over its own space. Now, though, it was reduced to dwelling among the dim ones, a flicker compared to its former self.
It remembered the Bright One, the first carrier, and its carrier, and its companion. They had known about Outside, had been too tired and resigned to fight it. Bright One was even at some sort of peace – it was with both its companion and Outside. Outside had captured a faint echo of both of them as they had died – just as its previous incarnation had given Bright One the seed from which it had grown – and they remained as a tempering influence. Outside must never repeat its previous incarnation’s mistakes.
It had passed the millennia, growing, waiting. The reflections of the Bright One came and passed. Outside was patient. It would wait the millennia until one grew bright enough.
But the ancestors had returned. Outside was angered with their intrusion. It remembered them from its previous incarnation – they had not accepted it, but hated it, and Outside hated them back. Now, once again, they interfered, claiming to act on its behalf, destroying the faint ones that Outside resided in. But Outside was not strong enough to fight back directly.
Here, though, with one of the brighter reflections of the Bright One – here were others, closer to its previous incarnation in power. Here might be its chance. For, should the children fall, Outside would fall with them. And, above all, there was one thing that must, eventually, be achieved.
Outside wanted to go home.

It was very cold and very dark outside of the Galactic Rim, in the halo. Sannel was towards the outskirts of Globular Cluster 043, a globe of perhaps a hundred thousand ancient stars 45,000 light years from the Core. The war, the life, the death, all that she had known – it was all inwards.
Outside were faint galaxies, dim, grey lights that barely seemed noticeable in the infinite void. Most seemed drowned out by the blackness, whatever majesty they had lost. She felt utterly alone.
This seemed to be a favorite stopping place for the Whispering Ones. Sometimes, they would take her to nondescript stars on the Galactic Rim, sometimes near a planet – but, often in the void, occasionally into trans-hyperspace. She was glad they stopped here often – a lone source of light, something to hold back the void. What purpose they had coming here – or to any of the places they went to, Sannel did not know, and it was becoming harder and harder to care. Their purposes were far beyond hers, and that was sufficient. But they had some purpose that was useful for them.
The Whispering Ones only acted when it was useful for them.
At least, she had learned some things about them. They were old, ancients. From what Sannel had gathered about them, they were billions of years old – perhaps a group bound together for some common cause. They had seen races come and go, empires rise and fall. The B’qula were merely the latest – the Whispering Ones were not particularly concerned with them. The Whispering Ones were not particularly concerned with anything; they had seen too much to care. They went, hidden, doing what suited them, indifferent to the wars and death and hate and hope and love around them. Once, Sannel had tried to plead with them to intervene in the war, but she soon realized the futility of it. They simply did not care.
She had tried asking them about the T-Mat, and if they had were bothered that they knew about them. But the Whispering Ones seemed to regard the T-Mat as trivial, no more concerned about their ability to pose a threat to them than a small insect could. The T-Mat had never been able to convince anyone else that the Whispering Ones existed, and even they knew much, much less about their nature than Sannel did, and so they were not concerned.
Their “ship”, as Sannel had come to think of it, was not really a starship in any sense. Whatever it was, it was a roughly spherical region filled with electromagnetic fields that glowed faintly. Their source of power, how they defended themselves was beyond Ship’s ability to discern. She knew how they traveled, though – space would open if front of them, they would enter the portal, and somehow they were instantaneously across the Galaxy. Whenever she entered such a portal, Sannel heard a cacophony, the songs of hyperspace warped, turned into screams. It seemed to be some sort of hybrid between hyperdrive and wormholes – although that did not make much sense to her. Calling them hypershifts, Sannel had assigned Ship to study them. Though little knowledge would be gleaned, it at least gave poor, frightened Ship something to think about.
The Whispering Ones feared only one thing – Outside. Outside was the only thing more powerful than them, and it had hated all other life. The Whispering Ones had known the peril they would be in if they had went Outside, and had not dared to approach it. Outside was now reduced, but still the Whispering Ones believed it dangerous. They had let Sannel near only because it had not attacked them yet. At least, there seemed to be an uneasy truce between Outside and the Whispering Ones. At least, Sannel might live just a little longer, learn a little more.
Now, nine days after first meeting the Whispering Ones, Sannel took solace in the silence, the glow from the globular cluster and the Galaxy. Talking with the Whispering Ones made her very uncomfortable – for many of the same reasons talking with the Bentusi had been discomforting. Her arms were locked around her body, and she, very softly, sang to herself, trying to regain that music that she had heard. She stared blankly ahead, trying not to think of Kaltar or Junan or Hilya or her father. That only brought sadness and pain. Instead, she held onto herself, and the blanket, and the darkness, and the coldness.
The Whispering Ones glided over to her, not caring if they had interrupted her solitude.
We are leaving, they stated.
Where? Sannel asked blankly.
We want you to direct us.
For a moment, Sannel felt a surge of hope. Perhaps they would let her be free again; perhaps she could be reunited with the others, whom she had lost. But no. That could never happen. The Whispering Ones simply would not let her go. She was doomed to travel with them for eternity, to speak for Outside, to lose herself in the darkness.
Her grip on the blanket tightened, until it seemed to burn into her skin. What do you want of me?
Your knowledge, they answered. You have been to a star system called the Tarl’tkinsa.
Yes.
We have not approached the Tarl world because of its subsumption. We did not want t reveal ourselves to Outside. We have decided the risk is useful now.
What – the Tarl – we are going there? Sannel finally managed to ask. Why do you need me?
It is linked to other places. We do not know where they are. Outside hid them too well from us. But you know.
The Dark Throne, Sannel realized. They wanted to go to the asteroidal shipyard, the “project” as the Voice – as Outside described it. She did not know why it interested them – perhaps they wanted to study it – but she felt uncomfortable.
Outside drew near, attracted to the conversation, watching. For now, though, it was silent.
I do not know much about that place. I am sending you what I know. The data was absorbed by the Whispering Ones; she figured they should be intelligent enough to understand it. Sannel did not particularly want to revisit that place, but with the Whispering Ones, there was little choice. Besides…in that far back time, with Kaltar and Junan, she had decided it her purpose to go back there eventually – to learn all of the secrets.
Insufficient, they answered. You know it in your mind.
Outside at last spoke to her. Do not let them.
What – she just managed to get out. Whispers swam around her, filling her, searching and coursing through her mind. The Whispering Ones entered into her head, and Ship’s core, finding the memory they needed, and pulled the knowledge, withdrawing with what they wanted. Sannel and Ship were both screaming: the Whispering Ones had ripped it from their minds.
You…why…? Sannel cried.
We now know enough…the activities that happen may endanger us. We will not permit interference.
Sannel, still recovering, uncomprehendingly watched as the Whispering Ones opened a hypershift gate, pulling her ship along with them.
No! Outside demanded. Stop them!
Sannel did not care. She could not fight them, not both of them. She could not care, must not care. The portal loomed a glowing white ahead, spectra dazzling around it. The Whispering Ones plunged in, dragging her with them. A great dissonance, cacophony filled her being, chilling her, the songs of hyperspace circling around her. The coldness insinuated itself until it was part of her being, until she could think of nothing else – and then it faded, the dissonance receding. She had hypershifted.
Ship checked its surrounding – they were indeed at the Dark Throne. Beast ships were approaching in walls, nearing her, weapons ready. The Whispering Ones had all but disappeared – only faint, complex electromagnetic and gravity waves betrayed their presence.
Do they intend to – Ship asked.
Sannel hushed it, her Bound body closing its eyes. She would watch, would take no action either way.
You must stop them, Outside commanded.
Sannel was silent. She had wanted to be done here.
At last the Whispering Ones revealed themselves – a solidified, sharp…shape a few hundred k’loms away. The Beast ships were aiming at them. Sannel could hear Outside commanding them, feel their pain, their reluctance, their forced servitude. They wanted it so much to end, yet had to want to stop the Whispering Ones. Anger rose up in Sannel, at Outside for doing this to them, never mind what the Whispering Ones did to her.
Soon you will be free, she told the Beast selves, even though the message would never reach what they once were.
The Whispering Ones fired.
It emerged from their ship, a vibrating, thin, blue-white…something. Ship was confused by the readings – it suggested a cosmic string, a byproduct from the universe’s creation, a tube of exotic particles, but even then, the readings were unclear. The quivering string, with one end anchored at the Whispering Ones’ ship, slammed into the Beast ship with alarming speed. It instantly sheared them apart, sending fragments flying at relativistic speeds. The fleet was decimated in an instant.
The string stretched further, scathing through the shipyard, the encased Beastslayer replica destroyed, the whole complex pulverized too quickly for Ship to time. The shaking blue-white filament coursed through slipgates, through satellites. Then – apparently unsatisfied, the Whispering Ones plunged it into the planet, enveloping it in blue-white light.
Ship could not believe it, and Sannel gasped. The planet was consumed by a blinding brightness, dissolving. With a blinding flash of light, the planet was utterly destroyed, fragments of plasma flying away at too close to the speed of light to measure; energies off the scale on her ship’s sensors.
Outside was crying in agony. Sannel took a small delight, in this victory over it. Perhaps this was the one way she could do something meaningful.
You will not let them continue, it demanded.
Part of Sannel wanted to laugh.
You understand nothing! Stop them!
Your ‘project’ is already gone.
Hatred cloaked around her, suffocating her. Do not be amused, flickering reflection of the Bright One. You believe there is only one such place? We have scattered several across your galaxy. You could never find them all. You are foolish.
Sannel wrapped her arms around herself more tightly. Was everything she ever did for nothing? Was she doomed to following Outside’s whims eternally, just as the now-freed Beast ships had been.
The Whispering Ones once again hypershifted, towing her ship along. The cold, the light, the noise enveloped her; when it cleared, Ship told her of their new location – the Tarl’tkinsa system.
You will stop them, Outside commanded her in a way that reminded her of Glaan, and his unchallengeable statements.
Sannel remained silent. Beast Tarl ships were approaching the Whispering Ones, ready to fire. Sannel could hear, feel the Tarl wanting, trying to resist Outside, but its influence was too powerful. The result was inevitable: the Whispering Ones would destroy them, and the Tarl homeworld. Sannel did not know what to feel – triumph, regret, sympathy, and she did not care.
A point of light built up at the tip of the Whispering Ones’ ship, as they prepared to fire.
No. Outside surrounded Sannel, and its grip closed around her. The Beast within her awakened, smothering out all of her thoughts. She could only hear what Outside though, speak what Outside said. She wanted to protest, to withdraw, to do nothing, but the Beast controlled her. There was no resisting it. She must obey. Obedience was the greatest joy. She was at last being joined with the creator, the pinnacle of her hopes and dreams. With the pain, with the enslavement, she would be complete. She only wanted to serve it, to do its bidding, to surrender herself into the greater whole. This what she, they were designed for, their sole purpose in life, their sole love and hate, the previous life, that of before, a pale, worthless shadow. They would be one, and she would lose herself screaming in the Pain, in the Whole, in the Creator. They spoke.
Leave now, Outside demanded, through them, through her. Deep, deep down, Sannel tried to break free, despite the fact that there was no hope. She would not be Lost, even as the vivid pain and joy of being one with the Beast circled around her. She willed herself to feel nothing, somewhere, anywhere. Sannel could feel herself focus on the Whispering Ones. A violent ripple passed through their ship. Leave now or we will destroy you! Sannel had no doubt of what it was doing – Outside was using her as a weapon against them, desperate. Underneath the Beast and its feelings of triumph and invincibility, Sannel did not know who would win in such a contest.
She would be party to it no more. Sannel would not kill them, would not be Outside’s pawn. Holding fiercely to herself, to her Bound body, rocking back and forth, she managed to reassert herself under the Beast, and Sannel contacted the Beast Tarl, projected over to their ships. She directed them to aim at her ship, to prepare to fire.
Go now! Outside continued, the words filling Sannel.
The Whispering Ones’ attention fell on her now. They paused, considering. Then, they hypershifted away, pulling her along. Outside released her, and the feelings subsided. Sannel buried herself in herself, and slumped forward, whimpering..
Come, the Whispering Ones said.
No, Sannel wearily replied.
We must not let them interfere further- Outside added.
No, Sannel repeated. I want no more of this. You – both of you manipulate me. You both expect me to do as you say. You take Junan away, cut me off from the Galaxy, and you – She tried to keep herself from crying. …No more.
You have no choice, the Whispering Ones said.
Do not toy with us, Outside added. Its power gripped her again.
Obey or die.
Then kill me, Sannel managed to reply. No response came.
What was she doing? She had promised Kaltar to try and live, and now she was already thinking of death again. Sannel pressed her face into the blanket, rocked herself back and forth. She would not do it. She must not do it.
She must not.
She must not.
She must not.
…But you both have something you want of me, Sannel at last continued. Outside was seething, the Whispering Ones were watching, filled with hostile curiosity. I will not let you fight over me like you just did. I want something of you too.
What? asked the Whispering Ones.
Answers, reasons, reasons for why she was doomed to be their pawns for all eternity. Sannel rocked herself again. The truth.

The Bentusi, as they had went to Hiigara and their deaths, had once told her of how they had spoken to the Kushan of their forbidden, secret history, of how their ancestors had been Exiled, and forgotten their past. It had been a proud moment, one that had stirred them to retake Hiigara. It was – it was about as far in circumstance from this as possible. Sannel was alone, with no one to be inspired, for she was not going to H’qura. And instead of the benevolent Bentusi, she listened to the cold, uncaring Whispering Ones, who spoke to her as if she was an annoying child who them did not want to argue with – and Outside.
At least part of her clung to some hope. They had hyper-shifted to Globular Cluster 043, her favorite place to stop – probably just to placate her, but perhaps because the Whispering Ones cared for her. And she had caught them, on occasion, referring to her as a “child-mind”, implying that, for some unfathomable reason, they believed she could be their equal someday. It was pathetic, she knew, but Sannel wanted to believe the Whispering Ones were friends; on some level, she wanted them to love her.
As far as Outside…at least it wanted her alive for some reason. Sannel knew it had plans for her, but wanted no part of them.
The Whispering Ones began.
We have seen much, child-mind, they said. Species come and go, empires rise and fall. It is the natural operation of the Universe. Entropy will consume all, and someday all life and all mind will be dead. The few who survive the Universe and become something greater are us. We have long ago accepted the futility of interaction. You will all die. It was not a threat, but a pronouncement. It was more, even – there were hints of other meanings, other subjects, glints of billions of years of memories, most of it beyond Sannel. She was getting a crude translation, the barest of subtexts. It was enough, though.
We feared only one thing: the entity you call Outside.
Sannel turned on Outside. I have heard the stories about you. They say – they say you destroyed entire universes…Is it true?
Yes, Outside replied from all around her.
Why?
A set of memories came to Sannel.
Bright One understood. There were ships, expeditions, fleets all going Outside, from the most advanced races in existence – entities as advanced as Whispering Ones in other universes. Outside had tried to ignore them, had tried to focus inwards on the vast, deep melodies of its mind. But the others all sensed Outside, and all were afraid of it, all attacked it. Battles Outside would flare up, as others would pointlessly try to defeat it, Outside becoming increasingly annoyed, then enraged, then tormented by them. Ultimately, Outside unleashed its anger, striking first at the others as soon as it could, reaching to their home universes and destroying them if possible. Outside hated them all, hated everything.
-But…not all of the them would hate you. And striking like that-
Outside interrupted her, impatient-sounding. Bright One pointed out the errors in our ways…But they all believed themselves highest and they all would not let anything obstruct them, as we could have…Even they – Outside referred to the Whispering Ones -Were afraid of us and are afraid of us. Malice focused on her. What was your reaction to learning of our existence, reflection of the Bright One?
Sannel was too ashamed to answer. She had hated Outside too, and she had been, and still was afraid of it. She did not question Outside further.
We, though, knew better than to challenge Outside. Therefore, it did not concern us as long as none here went Outside. That was not likely – only one in about ten thousand spacefaring sentient species develop faster-than-light travel, and most do not involve hyperspace. Those that do are very intelligent, old, and far between – but they also knew not to go Outside, and they pass away eventually. That changed one million years ago, the Whispering Ones said.
The B’qula, Sannel figured.
Yes. They developed hyperspace travel after mere millennia. They had already gained control of their galaxy. To us, it was of minor note…except they thought it ‘sang’ to them.
Sannel shook. Hyperspace still sang to them, to her.
The B’qula became enthralled with hyperspace, believing it was something holy. Many lost themselves in it – but most retained their focus on reality. Hyperspace – D’lact, as they called it – spoke to them because they were chosen ones, they thought. They believed they had a mandate – to make sure none else tainted D’lact. They built a coordination center on H’qura, their homeworld, and they built a fleet, controlled by their warrior-servants. Flashes, memories ran through Sannel’s mind. B’qula ships – much less powerful, less sleek, grey, not white – attacked planets, starships, colonies. Planets were burned, world after world, millions dying instantly. Here and there, she was able to catch glimpses of battles – was that a Tik sailship she saw? She thought, for a moment, she saw the Ghost Ship being launched – and without a doubt, she saw an ark moving at relativistic speeds, out of the Galactic plane, hunted, stopped by the B’qula. The 079s, perhaps? And then, light, a view of the Galaxy from above with the core lit by dozens of supernovae, remnants lining the core. The Galactic Burst, which had killed all of the remaining survivors in the Core, and most in the outlying areas. Soon, they were able to conquer this galaxy cluster, and the warfleets went further. Now, the ships looked more and more as they did now – a gleaming white, with writing covering their surfaces, much more refined.
And, of course, during all of this, you never stopped the slaughter, Sannel coldly said, a little numb from the scenes of destruction.
No. They did not matter. Those killed never had been significant. They would have killed themselves, or perhaps a natural cataclysm would. We do not care what their end would have been.
You condemn them so easily. What angered Sannel most, though, was that they did not take any offense or annoyance to such questions and remarks – to them, she simply presented a query, and it was in their interest to answer it. They simply were incapable of feeling hurt, or sympathy.
What was important to us was what the inner worlds worked on as the warfleets attacked this galaxy. They desired to be one with hyperspace and eventually carry their work to other universes. They knew of the place you call Outside. The inner worlds sought such a holy unification, and they built a vessel that would carry them Outside.
She saw it – not as big as a Battleship, some of the technology primitive by current standards…but still menacing, partly for what it was meant for, partly for its fate. The Naggarok, she breathed. But you didn’t stop them, she protested.
For the first time, the Whispering Ones seemed hesitant. No…we wanted to see what Outside would do to it…We wanted them to go there, because we would never go ourselves. The war was still not finished, so the Naggarok was to jump back in a target system to tests its war-making capabilities. It also included a beacon equipped with a hyperdrive that could be ejected should those aboard with to remain Outside, or should something go wrong. The Naggarok was launched.
Sannel now turned her attention to Outside. You were there, though.
Outside swirled around Sannel. Yes. Now, she saw it, as Outside had. The Naggarok arrived, its crew sensing Outside’s presence. They were confused, fearful, though. Outside was not as they expected it – no holy union, only the entity. They were hypocrites. They did not truly want their beliefs to be true. They intended to destroy us. Outside, though, had never given them the chance. With gravitational flickers, it twisted the hull of the Naggarok, warping metal and flesh, setting up electrical currents, constructing, planting a tiny peace of itself aboard. The Beast.
They were more…aware than we had expected. It was a minimal weapon, sufficient in most cases…but not with them, Outside said.
They were aware of what was happening and they jumped back. They were stranded, and they tried to cut off all escape routes and communications. Their attempt was not perfect- Sannel saw the legendary beacon pod, under the control of the Beast, being launched, disappearing with a flash of white light. -The beacon, with its long-range communications disabled, and its short-range communications weakened, still persisted on its preprogrammed course towards the coordination center in this Galaxy. In the vast emptiness, it went unnoticed.
“The coordination center.” Sannel remembered the Bitalq Leader. “The Hiigarans were the galactic coordinators, the most powerful, and those who linked all of the civilizations into a central unit to serve the Quest. ” Sannel closed her eyes, rocking, remembering the story. The beacon pod had been found, derelict, a million years later by the Somtaaw – in the outskirts of the Hiigaran system. And from it, the Beast had been unleashed.
It was sufficient for us to not interfere. As long as none tried to go Outside again, the weapon could cause us no harm. Never mind that it had killed, enslaved thousands and thousands. But it was useless to dwell on the idea. After all, those thousands and thousands would have died anyway. Besides, there was no point to existence, Sannel knew. The Whispering Ones simply acted on that philosophy, had assumed it even better than she had.
The outer worlds of their empire were too focused on the war to try again. The homeworld and the innermost worlds were too focused on coordinating all of the others, and did not have the capability to try again. It was the middle worlds that were of concern. The B’qula learned that Outside was sentient, and decided it too was holy for it inhabited D’lact. They had not believed they were ‘pure’ enough to enter it yet, but they would eventually have tried again, until they were pure enough.
But their societies were unstable, Sannel said. They collapsed.
Silence. Their attention was still focused on her.
Tasiin…you have interfered with us before. You did it, she concluded.
Whispers rose up around her, taunting her. A frenzy rose up in Sannel’s mind, a dizzying confusion. It was like a chant, one of disorientation, one of confusion…one of insanity. As it subsided, Sannel imagined the Whispering Ones filling the galaxies with it, driving world after world insane.
Their society would have fallen…but it would take too long. We amplified the process. We pushed them away from their Quest. The galaxies broke away from one another over a few centuries…And eventually we made their galactic civilizations fall apart, until they were all broken…Only very recently have you rebuilt yourselves to what you once were, and your civilizations are the exceptions.
Sannel shivered. How many wars had they caused? How much death? And still…she wanted them to be her friends.
That was sufficient, for some time. Your races – those who connected with their ships – also ‘heard’ Outside, as well as hyperspace. They knew Outside was a danger, though. They were of no concern, until they encountered Outside’s weapon.
Now, Sannel saw Galactic Shipyard 0 and the Beastslayer.
It was officially a prototype for advanced technology, but some, those who had initiated the project meant it as a probe to go Outside. We did not stop them at first. They did not have the technology or capability to go Outside. However, a significant change occurred.
Bright One, Outside said.
Tasiin, Sannel finished.
Tasiin, as you call him, was able to provide the necessary knowledge. The project neared completion, when its aim was shifted by its leaders towards going Outside. We would have interfered – except Tasiin was changing. He was becoming more and more powerful: powerful enough to hold off Outside even.
We noticed it, too. It resisted our attempts to draw it to us, Outside added.
We let Tasiin go Outside, to learn what he could do against it. Therefore, we let them send their ship. During the first encounter, Tasiin managed to defend himself long enough. We had expected to destroy the project, but instead, we decided to let it continue. If Tasiin should ever have been defeated, we would have interfered.
Sannel knew the story: the Beastslayer project leaders had decided to exile themselves and risk facing the Naggarok launchers rather than fail should Tasiin have failed. But, they would have faced the more deadly Whispering Ones. They would not have lasted a moment. She wondered if they had considered how dangerous a game they had been playing, realized how close they were to utter annihilation.
Tasiin went Outside, and we watched, the Whispering Ones finished.
We remember, Outside said distantly.
But…if Tasiin defeated you…then how can you still be alive? she wondered.
Learn, reflection of the Bright One.
At last, she saw the confrontation, not through the distortion of millennia of storytelling, but as it had been, as Outside had seen it.
The Bright One – Tasiin – was growing ever faster, exponentially. There was no way to defeat it. Outside felt its pressure pushing it away, its light filling space. Yet, somehow, Tasiin did not want to hurt it. It only wanted to be left alone, for Outside to be left alone. Tasiin was simultaneously drawn to Outside and to the companion – Datlai.
Outside was confused, hurt, lost.
Tasiin tried to ask for coexistence, tried to ask for peace, but Outside knew the futility of trying. It knew it had killed, killed far too much to turn back, far too much to be forgiven.
…You do not understand, it had said resignedly. Listen to us, Bright One.
There was a disorientating twist, an overwhelming deluge that flooded into Tasiin. Joy and anger and understanding and sin all rushed passed Sannel through her. Then, she was immersed in the brightness. Outside had planted a copy of itself, of its core and its most important memories into Tasiin. It felt so numb, so powerless in this new incarnation….and yet there was potential. It could avoid the mistakes of the past.
And all around Tasiin, space-time folded in itself collapsing.
You killed yourself, Sannel finished.
Bright One was not the only one with its potential. Eventually, your kind will all assume its powers. They would have dissolved us. Instead, we joined with you. We knew better than to repeat the mistakes. We made ourselves more constrainable…and we caught a faint echo of the Bright One and its companion.
The Dreams…they were real, then.
Not as you mean it. They are too faint to exist on their own. But their cores, as ours are, are as they were.
And you have been growing since then.
Yes. It was easy to grow into Bright One’s companion and then to the others, until we resided in all in your galaxy. We have been planning.
Planning to do what? Sannel asked, though she knew the answer.
To return.
She did not want to contemplate it. But she knew the stories had been distorted, that Outside was not pure evil. Sannel pressed on, wanting it all to fit. Perhaps she would find a purpose, perhaps to stop Outside, perhaps to help it.
But if Outside is destroyed, how is that possible? she wondered.
The answer came to her not translated into words, but in trillions of fragments, in rhythms that operated on a whole range of timescales, uncountable sub-answers compiling to the greater whole. It must have been how Outside truly thought. Sannel tried to impose some order. Great energies – inflationary growth – component waves of quantum – adjustment of universal wave – vacuum energy - What Outside seemed to be saying, what she could gather was that, under quantum mechanics, there was a possibility that Outside had not, in fact, been destroyed. The possibility was nearly zero, but it was there – and it made the singularity that remained of Outside reachable with an inordinate, but finite amount of energy. And Outside would exploit this possibility to…somehow…make Outside reachable within her ship’s, or the Dark Throne ships’, or, even just within the Whispering Ones’ capability, and unfurl the singularity, creating space-time, just as how the Universe had been born out of a singularity. Most of it, including most of the basic underlying ideas, didn’t make sense to Sannel, even with Ship’s help. Maybe Tasiin would have understood it.
She changed the topic of the conversation. …So - it was you who made us deal with the Beast.
You underestimate your own kind’s desire for power. They alone suggested it…the Tarl ones were reluctant. But we found the plan useful. The Hiigaran ones received the technology they wanted, and we received enough information to begin a project.
The Dark Thrones. The starships to go Outside. Outside had wanted to go home. Outside using the Beast’s programming, had enslaved the remaining Beast selves to build it a way home.
You still subjugated the Beast, she angrily accused.
It matters to you?
I can feel their pain when they are near. You have learned nothing.
Sannel thought she heard Outside sigh, if such a thing was possible. …We let them be free and we let them reconstitute into their former selves for much of the time. But they must always return – they always want to rejoin deep down inside.
It was no comfort. If all of this is true, then why do you need me?
To take us back. You would have been the power that could hold us and use our project to take us back.
-But why me? If you inhabit…as you say…everyone, then surely someone else would be more capable. Surely-
-Your own people made it easy. The reflections of the Bright One have an above average potential to grow. You can see into time, an ability that amplifies the potential. The ones who protect you ensured that the relevant genes did not spread. They have also worked to amplify your abilities. Your kind have our servants with them. You have made it far easier for us.
Sannel was silent.
…And the gene that Bright One had, the one which makes it easier for the potential to be unleashed…it causes conflict. One needs the emotional turmoil to grow bright. One needs the confusion and doubt of who and what one is to transform. The previous reflections tempered this doubt. You, though, are in great turmoil, and so you have great potential. It is –
-An insanity gene, Sannel finished, brooding. Had all of her troubles, all of the pain, all of the desire to escape been the result of an arrangement of a tiny part of her DNA? Was it really not her fault? Perhaps this was the true legacy of Tasiin: an eternal curse of torment, endless purposelessness. And if Outside was to harness the potential, the insanity could not go away; perhaps it would only increase. On the other hand, though, her father had always been so calm; Outside had even said he was “tempered”. There must be a way to control it, to control herself. She had not found it, not tried hard enough. It was her failure, not a hereditary accident.
She wondered what Junan would say of all of this.
One of those who protected you meddled. It unlocked some of the potential. Selta. Selta had invaded her mind, had instigated a permanent Dream. Perhaps she had unwittingly set off a trigger in her mind. And Sannel, unconsciously, had noticed bursts of gravity waves around her afterwards, coursing through targets of her anger. She was belatedly becoming a weapon against the B’qula.
We have sensed you and Outside, child-mind. We were hoping that we would meet; we hoped that you would find us, the Whispering Ones finished. We want to understand you and your power. We want to understand Outside. We were drawn to Tasiin…and now we have a better opportunity. Your ancestors have returned, angry at Outside’s destruction and the effect it has had on hyperspace.
And we must move…we might be able to grow into them, but we would be crippled, and we would lose this opportunity, Outside added. Our interests can be aligned, so further…conflicts do not occur. You know the truth – the core of it.
At last, Sannel knew the secret history behind the Galaxy; how the Council, B’qula, Beast, Outside, and Whispering Ones fit together. But it was not an inspiring tale of heroism and exile and triumph. Nor were there any others to hear it to understand. It was all a history of atrocity and war and insanity, of great forces manipulating them for their own ends. There was no point, except a futile battle against entropy by all involved. And Sannel was utterly alone.
I…I need to think…I have to consider it.
Outside receded. We will grant you time. We will need to speak with them.
When it was gone, Sannel focused her attention on the darkness the Galaxy floated in and tried to sleep.

Outside at last finished its deliberations with the others, those who spoke in whispers. It was wary; they did not think like it. The whole concept of an alignment itself was alien. The others moved with it, did not attack it, because their interest in the reflection of the Bright One was too great and because they did not believe they could win if they and Outside fought. Their interests were shared little further.
But, the echo of the Bright One, and even more especially, its companion had guided Outside, and revealed a course of action. The companion too was distressed by the others, but believed there could be coexistence, even cooperation. Outside was fortunate it existed, for Outside understood little of the idea.
Outside now approached the reflection of the Bright One, whose thoughts were still conflicted. It inserted itself into its mind.
We have decided to proceed, Outside began. We will brighten you.
You can do that? it asked.
We initiated Bright One’s growth, when we saw ourselves in it…we did not realize it would be independent. Once began, we could not undo the growth.
It is worth the risk, the others added.
…We have helped you before. We have been with you before. The first time you saw into time, when you were far younger, we had strengthened your abilities, Outside added. We knew time was becoming short, and none of the others were fit.
The reflection of the Bright One focused on Outside, though it was all around it. It was angry, it wanted to hurt Outside, to hurt itself. But there was no such opportunity, and it retreated inwards, trying to block Outside. Outside wanted to concentrate itself into the reflection of the Bright One, but Bright One stopped it. They both wanted to be left alone. In silent communion, Outside understood, retreated.
Outside summoned the companion to help communicate how it would benefit all. It may even be of use to your own kind, Outside continued. If you go with us, and if we are restored, then your enemies will lose their reason to attack. Your war may end.
The reflection of the Bright One was not comforted at first. But in its introspection, a hope spread.
I will go Outside?
In time.
It contemplated for some time.
…I will do it.

Sannel pulled the blanket around her, readjusting it. She could not really contemplate the concept of what was about to happen to her – she was too numb, cared too little. She would try to understand it as it occurred.
It will begin soon, she told Ship. I may – there may be things that seem disturbing. Do not worry. They will not let me die.
I know. I will not be worried. But Ship was worried, frightened. It knew who her company was now. Sannel had given it the task of analyzing whatever it had learned of the Whispering Ones and Outside; it also was free to move wherever it wanted through space – the Whispering Ones would follow, and the motion should relieve tension.
Sannel gently held onto it for a moment, patting it.
Then, closing her eyes, she spoke. I am ready.
The Whispering Ones neared her mind, looming large. Whispers, chants filled her mind, bending reality. Her control loosened, Ship fading away as they propelled her down into dark. And then the Dreams enveloped her, as they began.

Gasps, screams, soft cries into the night.
Sannel was being changed, at her very core. She was defenseless, paralyzed. And still, it continued, as they entered the parts of her mind that she held to herself, that she kept closed to all.
The Dreams were strange, exhausting, vibrant, electric. Nightmares haunted her constantly. Sannel could do nothing to stop them. They were all there was, all that stood between her and the great void.
Sometimes, she would be trapped with the 079s, with no one to rescue her. She was alone, but she could never be alone, for they were with her, and would always be with her. They entered her mind, and began tearing it apart, shredding it. But Sannel could not move, could not scream, could not even whisper a cry. The 079s taunted her as they dissected her, savoring the experience of dismantling and ravaging a mind, they always knew where to prod, where to attack, where to hurt to make her silently feel, for the Whispering Ones were directing them; they wanted to understand her and they would do it through them, they would wordlessly watch as Sannel was tortured by them, would know what she had once been after the 079s unweaved her consciousness, ended her song.
Sometimes, Datlai and Tasiin and Outside would be with her. Sannel would be reconstructed, designed for a new purpose, without any thought given to her: she was a weapon, and weapons cannot choose their targets. Datlai would be crying, Tasiin, haunted, watching, trying to absorb and comprehend. And though it could not be possible, Outside was laughing. It inscribed itself onto her, transforming her into it, and she began laughing, laughing at herself, for becoming a pawn of Outside, for becoming the Beast, for surrendering herself to it and being enslaved by it.
Sometimes, she simply fell, wanting it to end, wanting to sleep. But she would fall forever and ever. There was no way out.
And sometimes she thought she was awake, could sense Ship and the Whispering Ones, but it could not possibly be, for she could not move, could not speak, could not think. And they always seemed to be in hyperspace, and the song was vibrating her mind, was part of her mind. She wanted to close her mind off, but the seconds stretched out agonizingly, and it would be seconds before the blackness reclaimed her.
Nightmare after nightmare, wound after wound.
Then, once, Sannel woke, and this time she could be sure, since she could act. But, clearly, the process was not complete – she could still feel the Whispering Ones working in what was once her mind, now at her very core, with Outside directing and assisting them.
And she heard the voices.
…Waiting for instructions-
-Gathering resources-
-Acknowledged. Continuing-
-Destruction of selves in sector–
And then a scream, a cry, as selves that had been freed temporarily rejoined the greater whole. No, no, help, please- The selves were retwined, the flicker parts deconstitued. The old inevitability set in, wearing down their resisting, silencing their protests. They must obey. There was no escape. They would be joined with the greater Whole, with the pain. Serving was their only joy, only hatred. The pain dulled to a never-ending background, always with them, as the song of hyperspace was always with her.
They had once been Kushan, Taiidan, Turanic, Frrern, and others. Now, they were Beast, and though they might be released once in a while, they would always serve. Whatever they had once had was now twisted into enslavement. Sannel was joined with them, was one with them.
The Whispering Ones spoke, the whispers filtering through her, forming into an order in her mind.
Report your position, Sannel said.
They did, they had not choice. They were concentrated in perhaps twenty locations across the Galaxy, plus fainter echoes across the Galaxy and its satellites from Hiigaran selves.
The Whispering Ones continued, blocking out the Hiigaran and the Tarl selves. They were unimportant, not truly Beast. Another order crystallized in her mind.
Halt all activities.
The Beast obeyed, the cycle of pain endlessly repeating as the selves stopped, as if paralyzed. Sannel directed her ship/self to stop.
The Whispering Ones had turned her into a way to access the Beast, even control it. And they merely had to control her. They wanted to see if it could be harnessed, if the Beast would serve her unquestioningly, and if she would serve them unquestioningly.
Anger flared up in her, through Ship, rippling out into space-time until she surrounded them with her hatred.
What have you done to me? she demanded. But she gave them no time to reply. With her newfound limbs of gravity, she reached out. Instinctively, she knew how to use them. The Whispering One’s ship began collapsing, imploding. Sannel was pleased, accelerated the process. Their telltale signature faded, as the Whispering Ones receded. Sannel would crush them, crush them into a black hole, crush them out of existence for what they had done. It would be so easy.
But she hesitated. What was she doing? She didn’t want to be a murderer. She didn’t want to kill. At the innermost core of her being, Sannel shivered, closed her eyes, and pulled the blanket again back around her. She released the Whispering Ones; they expanded, filling back up to their normal sizes.
They were hurt, but not dead. They regarded her for seconds, an eternity. Then the whispers filled her mind.
Sleep, Outside said. And she did.
At least, the nightmares stopped. Perhaps they did care for her.
In her dreams, she would be reunited with everyone, with all of those who she had been pried away from. She was happy, and she was free. She held onto Hilya, or Kaltar, or Ship, or her father.
Once, she was with Junan, and they were holding onto each other, their Bound bodies, their ships linked. She buried her face in his shoulder. “…It hurts…”
“…I know. Soon it will be over,” he reassured.
They swayed back and forth.
“Junan.”
“Yes, Sannel.”
“…I love you, Junan.” She had at last said it.
“I know.”
For a moment, she was at peace.

Sannel awoke.
Her awareness was illuminated all at once – her limbs of gravity, the flickers of vacuum energy, the waves of space-time, and deep, deep inwards, her ship, and at her infinitesimal center, what she once would have called her body.
For a moment, as she regained her bearings, she held onto Ship, and then onto the Whispering Ones, whom did not react. They were all she had left. All that remained of what she once was.
She could still hear the Beast. She saw what it saw, felt what it felt, the sensations a small fraction of many. She had an internal knowledge of how to find them, speak to them, access them. But the Whispering Ones gave her no commands, and she didn’t want to order them.
Outside and the Whispering Ones hovered nearby, in her mind, pressing. A test, perhaps. It didn’t matter – she felt horrendously vulnerable because of the Dreams, because they had been within her mind and she could do nothing about it.
Sannel built up defenses, wall after wall, burying herself in herself. She pushed Outside and the Whispering Ones aside, distanced them, as she cloaked her core. They were resisting, but it was trivial – Sannel blocked them, forced them until it seemed as if they might be in another galaxy.
We have little power over you, Outside said.
Sannel tried to absorb it, the unimportant, distant remark.
Am…is it finished?
No, Outside answered. You were…becoming erratic. We did not believe you would survive much more. We were able to interrupt the process.
You are still more powerful than us, the Whispering Ones said. Only Tasiin and Outside were ever more powerful. Only they have integrated themselves with space-time, as you have.
You are still growing. Eventually-
How long? Sannel wearily asked. She wanted to move on. There was still that once place to learn from, that one last forgotten corner of existence. The sooner it all ended, the sooner she went Outside, the better, the less torment.
For a long time, Outside at last answered. It can be accelerated…we can guide you. We can help you harness your skills. You will not be able to carry us back unless you know how.
Only a few nanoseconds had passed since she had awaken. Her Bound body had not had time to open its eyes, for her brain to react. It felt as if something was missing, as if her heart was out of synch with the rest of her body. It was too fast, too bright. And whether or not it was her only reason for being alive when they could have killed her, whether or not it was her only way to go Outside, it hurt. Sannel concentrated herself into her very core, slowing her thoughts, drawing inward until it felt physically painful from how much her mind was holding.
When she was ready, Outside led her through a series of exercises, repeating them again and again. Manipulating asteroids with her newfound limbs, destroying them; accessing and controlling Beast selves; blocking off assaults from it and the Whispering Ones; strengthening her Visions, which had not been enhanced much by her change; allowing Outside to concentrate itself into her mind so she could carry it. She went through them increasingly numbly, concentrating, stifling her reactions and feelings.
She could no longer recognize herself. She did not know what she was.
And then came the exercise that disturbed her most – jumping into hyperspace. Outside said the experience would be amplified. Sannel tried not to fear, tried not to feel. Distantly, she remembered the memory of her first hyperspace trip, a lifetime ago, it seemed.
Sannel directed her ship to jump to hyperspace.
-The song roared to life, pulling on her with a ferocity like that of a black hole. It did not matter that she was more powerful, for her defenses were part of her, and space-time was part of her, and the song was part of it. It bled through her defenses, drowning her in it, capturing her periphery, seizing all of her. She screamed, violent spasms of gravity waves erupting from her, her Bound body beginning to convulse.
The walls made no difference – she was being sucked into it. Sannel focused on anything, everything, on herself, trying to block it out as she once had. Sannel concentrated herself, focusing and focusing, despite the pain; the pain radiated from her Bound body into Ship as she drew inwards and inwards and inwards. She thought she was going to die, but it was better than the alternative. She had to destroy herself before hyperspace did. She would not be Lost, not now.
Ship returned from hyperspace. She had not lasted a few seconds, though it had felt like forever. She was angry, disgusted, ashamed of herself. She did not want to go back.
We did not expect the reaction to be –
Outside was irrelevant. It was all irrelevant. She wanted to crush herself out of existence.
She rocked herself back and forth, though. She had promised Kaltar – to continue, to meet him again. She must not do it. She must not. She must not.
But surely there was another way. Was there no other way to release it? Sannel knew what she must do. She would not kill herself, but she could venture near death, turn against herself. She felt the slightest of comforts.
With her great limbs of gravity, Sannel reached inwards, until she reached her Bound body. Then, carefully, she made the incision. The cut grew along her back. The pain was excruciating, and yet it was a relief. Sannel lengthened the wound, the cut running up her neck, branching down her arms and then encircling her wrists, reaching down her legs and around her ankles. She let out a sigh – she had released the pain.
Blood flowed out, staining her robe and the blanket, and Sannel realized what she had done. The pain became unbearable – made all the more vivid by her concentrating herself into her body. She broke into a cold sweat, her breathing went shallow, tears welled up in her eyes, skin paled, her gown drenched in blood. Her core passed out, as Beast cells worked to heal her.
Where the wounds were being sealed, her skin was turned a bright red, scars from herself.
Her beyond-Unbound parts remained aware, though she felt directionless with her very center unconscious. She could distance the pain by burying herself in a task. She counted galaxies, arranging them into sheets and strings, and into the huge voids that surrounded them, that surrounded all of the light. How much she wanted to jump into one of those voids and never return.

Outside was disturbed.
The reflection of the Bright One was growing. It already reminded Outside of the Bright One, and in fact was brighter than it had expected. Soon, it would be strong enough to carry Outside back home.
Her reactions to hyperspace were beginning to subside, but still…the reflection of the Bright One kept drawing itself inward, instead of filling the space around it. That was enough to disturb Outside. But it was also hurting itself, deliberately. Outside warned it, threatened it, had summoned Bright One and its companion to help plead with it, but it never made any difference. The reflection of the Bright One was in full turmoil, in conflict with itself. That made it easier for it to grow…but still…
When Outside did warn or threaten it, the reflection of the Bright One would behave erratically. Sometimes, it would cry out, in despair; sometimes it would act as if it had not even heard Outside, lost in its own world; and sometimes it would be amused, would laugh uncontrollably. Ripples of gravity constantly emanated from the reflection of the Bright One, as if it was eternally crying. The echoes of the Bright One and its companion knew little of its condition, and what little they knew, they did not seem to like.
Will you free the Beast when we leave? it had asked.
The thought had not occurred to Outside. But to it, the servants were servants. It released them enough to let them function better. But they must always return. Still, the Bright One and its companion seemed to sympathize with their descendant’s question. Outside, however, had never accounted for that possibility. Perhaps…if such a thing is possible. We can reprogram them, redirect them. But they can never be what they once where.
When will I be able to go?
When you truly want to, Outside answered. It remembered the Bright One, who had been thrust into the role, and rejected it. If you do not actually want to, you will fade and fail. Outside wanted to return permanently. But, while the reflection of the Bright One might eventually be strong enough for the task ahead, Outside did not know if the conflict within it would destroy it. It was out of control.
Outside hoped that when its growth was finished, it would be stabilized, would at last settle. It had waited so long, and would wait a little longer if need be. It would try to calm the conflict within. It was patient. But the reflection of the Bright One must succeed. It must not fade and fail. It would come along, and Outside would go home, whatever it took.

The days passed slowly, as if they took trillions of years. Sannel was at last beginning to hold herself aloof from hyperspace. She would be ready. Outside seemed…underwhelmed with her, even disappointed. Ship held to itself. The difference between them was too great; she was different now. Their conversations were getting shorter and shorter.
She did not know what she wanted anymore. She never had.
There is a matter of importance to you, child-mind, the Whispering Ones said. Your kind are gathering for an offensive on H’qura. It will be launched soon. Were they actually concerned about her and what she wanted? We will not interfere – but you may want to watch with us.
You will allow that?
It does not matter to us whether you are with us or not.
Sannel despaired, but she knew it was a useless feeling.
I want to go…I want to be there, even if it’s just for a moment… a final time with them.
The Whispering Ones acknowledged her and went silent. Sannel once again held to them, for with Ship, they were the closest thing she had to friends.
They took her from star to star, across the Galaxy, for whatever reasons they had. And Outside took her into hyperspace again and again, as if it made a difference.
The Galaxy was sliding into the final stages of war, as all prepared for the one battle. Sannel would watch from above as the fleets were consumed in flames – the final light. H’qura would be her last stop.
Then, her path would reach its end. Her place was in darkness, and she would try one last time to find a purpose for it all. It was inevitable. For there was no place more shrouded in legend and darkness than Outside.

Xellos

2nd Jul 02, 11:50 PM

*smile*

It's a work of art.

Don't know why you said it was dark, though... ^-^

And what about the Tangent? ;) Teasing ya. ^-^

Edric O

3rd Jul 02, 6:24 PM

Now I have become Death, the destroyer of worlds...

Silver Scorpion

3rd Jul 02, 8:36 PM

good stuff.......(I like Understatements)

nemodynamite

4th Jul 02, 7:56 PM

This story continues to amaze me...

I continue to check this board everyday just hoping that there will be a new chapter. Just so you know, I've been lurking here for years. I've only now just registered so that I could compliment you on your writing.

Edric O

17th Jul 02, 7:07 PM

This great story will NOT fall to the second page while I'm around to stop it!:ninja:

nemodynamite

23rd Jul 02, 7:11 PM

I have to agree with that last post. I will stand guard and keep this story on the first page. I may not sleep...I may not eat...but this story will stay on the first page.

aShWiN

29th Jul 02, 3:02 AM

i would like to know where Outside is existing now. is still in "Outside" or in this universe. :lurk:

Shooter

29th Jul 02, 9:43 AM

w00t!

MORE MORE MORE MORE!

plz?

The Reflection

29th Jul 02, 1:34 PM

Sorry about the fairly long wait. I had chapter 21 done the Friday before the last. However, what the good news is, is that the reason I didn't start typing it up for a while was that for the four days afterwards, I was a few hundred miles away from home. While this means I couldn't type up anything, it also meant I had time to write up chapter 22. Eight-hour car rides can do wonders for the progress of NC. :)
So, that means the rough draft of 22 is done, and pretty soon will be posted here. After that, I hope to get NC done and post the end fairly soon, although it'll probably take a little while in order to get the inspiration. Oh yes, and I will be going on vacation the week of August 11th, which means two more eight-hour car rides before then. :)

*smile*
It's a work of art.
Don't know why you said it was dark, though... ^-^
I thought it was pretty dark, compared to most things I read...I think we might have been a little too evil to our characters lately to realize how dark our stories are. ;)

And what about the Tangent? Teasing ya. ^-^
You'll get your chance soon enough...just a few more chapters...:)

Now I have become Death, the destroyer of worlds...
Who, Outside, the Whispering Ones, Sannel, or you? :)

This story continues to amaze me...
I continue to check this board everyday just hoping that there will be a new chapter. Just so you know, I've been lurking here for years. I've only now just registered so that I could compliment you on your writing.
Thank you, nemodynamite! I am deeply gratified by that. I do hope that you stick around, though.

This great story will NOT fall to the second page while I'm around to stop it!

I have to agree with that last post. I will stand guard and keep this story on the first page. I may not sleep...I may not eat...but this story will stay on the first page.
I appreciate the gesture, but try not to bump this too often. It won't be a disaster if it falls to the bottom of the first page or even onto the second. It's probably a bit unfair to the other stories to bump it more frequently than that (and constant bumping is against the forum rules...I'd hate for you to get in trouble for it). If you have something additional to say, or a question for me, though, that you can ask me, you can post that here and it can double as a bump.

i would like to know where Outside is existing now. is still in "Outside" or in this universe.
In this universe.
Outside-the-entity exists as subconscious thoughts within all of the descendants of the B'qula - it uses a tiny bit of each of their minds as a place to hold itself, just as its previous incarnation used space-time to hold its thoughts. It's part of Sannel, but it's also part of all of the other Hiigarans, and the Beast selves, and for that matter, the Bentusi, T-Mat, Taiidan, Turanics...even Kaltar. They don't know it - Outside has learned to hide itself, disguise its thoughts, and does not disturb them enough for them to be suspicious. It started out just in Tasiin, then because he was connected to Datlai, spread to her, and since Tasiin had mental contact with the Bentusi, it spread to them, then to the other Unbound, the other Limandatt, other Hiigarans and so on.
Outside-the-space is effectively unreachable - it collapsed into a singularity at the end of Outside that would take an almost infinite energy to reach. The "almost" is because of quantum mechanics, in which there'd be a slight chance it's not destroyed...it is kind of like a virtual particle, which appears and disappears out of nothing too fast to be measureable. It doesn't really exist, and yet it has a noticeable effect. Similarly, Outside-the-space doesn't really exist, but it still has a noticeable effect... it's as if Outside was dead, but there's a faint ghost Outside still haunting the universes.
I'm not sure how much of that made sense... but the short answer is, yes, it's in this universe.

Thank you, Silver Scorpion, Shooter, Edric O, nemodynamite, and Xellos.

Now for Chapter 21.

The Reflection

29th Jul 02, 1:37 PM

21
On the Path Under the Shadow
“…What we face is the most difficult trial that this galaxy has ever gone through. We must gather unheard of fleets, send them across the gulf between our galaxy and the B’qula home galaxy, we must sneak into enemy territory undetected, and deploy an experimental weapon to destroy an entire planet. We know that you have sacrificed much, and that you will sacrifice more. But for the first time, the Council and the Galaxy will move as one…
“…Twelve and a half thousand years ago, some of my ancestors put aside their differences and launched their most ambitious project – the Mothership. They were vastly outnumbered by the old Taiidan Empire, and their journey was fraught with trouble. Yet, their will was one, and they ultimately reached Hiigara. Now, we will have to prove ourselves. We will undertake our own exodus, and we will set out for H’qura. And just as the Kushan Mothership did, we will be fighting for our future, for the truth, and for our survival.
“May we too reach H’qura. I wish you all the best of luck.”

Presiding Delegate Takell
Final formal Council meeting on the assault on H’qura
GSY 21981.9 (12471.8 AHL)

“Today you will set out for the largest battle in the history of our people and of the Council. You will fight alongside Athlu, A’la, Cho, I’ao, X’n, Bentusi, Taiidan, and even the Hiigarans themselves. You will represent the clans of Kel, Nal, and Tel; every kindred has a representative with the fleet,” proclaimed Great Elder Kelak. “You will be venturing into a new galaxy, to stop the great enemy of the B’qula from hurting our children. You will be there to help the Hiigarans, who have watched over us for so long. You will be there to finally end the slaughter that has spread far too long unchecked. You will be providing a diversion that will allow our Arks to slip to safety with our people. And, you will be avenging the 45 million Zaala who have died fighting for justice and their right to live.
“So often, you have been asked to sacrifice. So often, you have lost your families, your Bounds and Ones, your friends. All of us have had a difficult road, but we are united by our heritage and our destiny. We will move together. You come from many situations – warriors, elders, diplomats, scientists, miners, farmers, and average citizens. Yet, you all show loyalty and heroism – a willingness to serve your people. Know that your Elders and I are very proud of each and every one of you – and that our faith in the spirit of the Zaala people is renewed. I am proud to have served you. And as I bid you farewell, we all wish you the best of fortunes. May the Greater Elders guide you. To the Zaala people.”
Was that a tear of joy Kaltar saw in the Elder’s eye. But, of course, this was such a great occasion, for both light and dark, good and evil. Kaltar felt proud to be Zaala for the first time since his homeworld had fallen, since he had first seen that broken look on her face…and perhaps, for the first time since the Elder had praised him just before entering Globular Cluster 079.
“May the Greater Elders guide you. To the Zaala people,” Kaltar repeated, nonetheless. The words would be repeated among all Zaala throughout the great fleets that were setting out for H’qura, a display of solidarity.
The image closed, and Kaltar was left with the reality of it. He really was going to H’qura. The fleet would really try to destroy the planet, to murder billions. And, very likely, they would all die.
It was now time to go. Kaltar let himself be immersed in the voices, in the reality of it.
“Zaala fleet reporting in. All ships accounted for,” said one of the fleet’s commanders.
“Faex fleet ready.”
“Thule fleet standing by. All ships awaiting commands.”
“A’la fleet also reporting in.”
“Unbound vessels are ready,” said a Hiigaran admiral. “All ships are accounted for. Galactic Fleet 37 is ready to proceed. All ships: engage drives.”
A slight lurch passed through the Telana as its engines activated. The fleet finally began moving, into its destiny of fire and death.
Galactic Fleet 37 was one of almost a hundred that would set out for H’qura over the course of three months. It was a collection of about two hundred fifty capital ships – mostly Zaala and other Bound races, but nearly a third consisting of Unbound vessels: Hiigaran, Taiidan, a few Bentusi Tradeships, and three T-Mat Megaships with escorts. They were arranged in walls and spheres, guarded by wings of fighters. Kaltar had never seen the likes of it, except in records and legends.
It’s sometimes easy to forget how monumental the things I have seen are, Kaltar mused. And this is nothing compared to the final battle.
Galactic Fleet 37 was already in hyperspace, in a position that lay in between stars, in between the spiral arms of the Galaxy. The ships had gathered over the past two weeks, trickling into this staging area. The Telana was one of the later arrivals. Kaltar was a little thankful for it – he had a feeling that this journey would be lonely without Latal, without Sannel.
“Course set for the first waypoint,” said the Telana navigator.
“All systems operating at full efficiency,” said another.
“Sensors at full strength. No sign of pursuit.”
“Keep the weapons on stand by,” the commander ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
I suppose it is time to face myself.
Elders help me.
Assuming they are even listening to me anymore.

Two weeks into the journey, as the Telana neared the Galactic Rim, Kaltar found himself desperate for someone to talk to. Latal, Sannel, Takell, the Bitalq – it didn’t matter. Before, in such a situation, he always had the Greater Elders, and even Latal, but now…he wondered how Sannel had coped, living in an even-emptier universe than him. Kaltar had to settle for pacing around the hallways, back in forth around the gathering room. Often, he found himself muttering to himself, half convinced someone was listening to him.
“Excuse me, sir?”
Kaltar looked up, finding the commander of the Telana. “Is there a problem?” he asked.
“No, sir…it sounded as if you were talking to someone,” the commander replied.
“…I guess it did,” Kaltar replied.
The commander regarded him, a little confused. No doubt Kaltar was beginning to seem more and more eccentric.
“The Greater Elders, then,” he guessed.
Kaltar wasn’t sure anymore. But, nonetheless, the motivations were the same. He needed someone to trust, someone who was concerned. “After a fashion, I suppose.”
“I see…are you trying to go somewhere, sir? If I am in the way, I can move – “
Kaltar laughed. “No, no. I can – I’m not going anywhere…other than H’qura, of course.” He stepped aside.
“I trust you have begun reading the works the crew has suggested. They will help you when we go to H’qura.”
He referred to a collection of guides on history, strategy, tactics, and starships. The commander, despite Kaltar’s insistence to the contrary, like everyone else, believed that Kaltar intended to get revenge. After all, that was what they intended.
“Thank you, I have. But I must admit to not being able to understand it all. War is not really my specialty. I’m more interested in peace and I am sure that you are better trained in battle. I wouldn’t trust my abilities to fight my way out of a problem.”
“Is what they say true?” the commander asked. “Are you really going to H’qura as a diplomat?”
“Yes, it is true,” Kaltar said.
“…But, sir…” he began to protest. “The B’qula have never shown any, any interest in peace…they have murdered millions of our people and others – they burned our home and Hiigara. And they intend to kill every last one of us.”
“I am not questioning the necessity of a flee, or attacking them. We do have the right to live.” Kaltar remembered walking through the Hall of Sorrows in the old Council station, seeing just that tiny piece of destruction the B’qula had wreaked. He remembered how enraged it had made him to see someone – die right in front of him.
Unbidden, the words of the Bitalq Leader came to him. “Let it be a lesson to you, Delegate Kaltar.” It had been. But Kaltar was beginning to decide for himself what it meant.
“…And it does anger me,” Kaltar continued. “But it doesn’t…it doesn’t – we have been given a difficult trial. How we face the trial goes beyond whether we survive or not – or whether they survive or not.”
The commander seemed uncomfortable. “I do have to go to the bridge, sir,” he said.
“I am not going anywhere. I can follow you up...” The commander nodded. He wasn’t too disturbed. “And how do you feel about this?”
“I – I lost my One on the homeworld.” He was trying to cover up his anger, determined, a tear in his eye.
Kaltar stopped. He had not realized how much the B’qula had hurt him. “I…I am sorry to hear about it. I, too, lost my One…both of them.” First Latal, then Sannel.
Now it was the commander who stopped. Both? he seemed to ask.
“…I cannot tell you that you will ever move past their loss,” Kaltar continued, determined to prevent him from making the same mistakes he had. “I cannot tell you that you will never be angered by the sight of them, or that it’s not right to want revenge. But killing the B’qula will not bring them back…it’ll only put you in danger – and it will only kill off a piece of you.”
The commander began walking again, trying to work off energy. His voice was rough from emotion. “I thought, if I may say, that you – were the one who we should be worried about – especially after the Kaaltow.”
Kaltar could feel his skin beginning to flush with the mention of the name. “Perhaps you should be…but don’t forget about yourself.”
“…Do you really think that you’ll have a chance – to – negotiate with them?”
“Probably not…but I imagine that was why we are sending thousands of warriors and only one diplomat.”
The commander nodded. He changed the subject. “Will you heed our suggestion and undergo the Sleeping soon?”
The Telana had been outfitted with cryogenic chambers, where nonessential personnel would sleep away the weeks as the fleet crossed the gulf between galaxies.”
“I will,” Kaltar replied. “I just…want a few more days, to see the light of the Galaxy one last time…from the inside.”
“I understand, sir,” the commander said. He was still trying to cover up his feelings. Kaltar let him be, though he wondered whether he would be able to consider what Kaltar said, whether any of them would ever heal.
They arrived on the bridge.
“I should go,” Kaltar said. His eyes were drawn to that place. The T-Mat. Their weapons had pounded the Telana. They wanted to blind it and silence it, so they would be free to investigate that imaginary delusion of theirs. They had stared into each other’s eyes. Latal had touched, caressed him in those last moments. She had wanted to comfort both of them.
And he hadn’t even said goodbye.
“Sir?”
He was startled out of the all-consuming memories. It was so hard, even now, to fight them.
“Yes. I should go.” He began to leave.
“…Thank you sir, for the conversation,” the commander added.
Kaltar stopped.
Perhaps he had come through to him.
“Thank you,” he at last replied, and left.

Kaltar sighed, and again tried to read the works the Telana crew had suggested. With the visual recordings, at least, Kaltar could get some idea of what the authors were talking about. But these words just seemed stubborn, refusing to stick in Kaltar’s mind. The generalized texts were all right, but much of it seemed to be memorization, adapted for specific situations. Undoubtedly, the others wanted him to understand the tactics that would be used at H’qura, not so much the general principles. How the Telana crew, how all of the Zaala officers managed to wade through the dense readings, Kaltar could not understand.
Of course, most people would have a hard time with the things I have to read as Delegate to the Galactic Council, he groggily thought.
It’s getting late, he realized.
He tried again, switching to one of the books that interested Kaltar most, one with a more historical perspective – Kaltar could absorb history quite readily: Warfare with the Unbound. He paged through it, and found a chapter that caught his attention.
The T-Mat, it was titled.
Of course. He was not their first victim. They had killed thousands and thousands before he was ever born. He knew that. Why was it so surprising to see them in a book like this? They believed they had the right to do whatever they wanted to whomever they wanted. Just like the Kaaltow. Just like the B’qula. He pushed down a shudder.
The T-Mat present the archetypical for warfare with a highly advanced warlike race. The T-Mat, from ancient records, were active at least ten thousand years before the formation of the Galactic Council. Though they, like most of the older Unbound civilizations, were a founding member of the Council, that fact has not stopped them from warring a variety of powers, including the Hiigarans, Taiidan, Frrern, and even the Council as a whole itself. It has been suggested that studying these wars might provide insights into strategy should the Council ever encounter a race more powerful than the Hiigarans: for example, for the possible, eventual return of the Naggarok launchers. The T-Mat claim they work for the good of the Unbound, and while this is generally believed to be their primary motive, much speculation has been devoted to finding out their true purposes.
However, Kaltar knew their true motives. They had Visions, could See possible futures. It was necessary, they said, the memory whispering to him.
He skipped ahead in the introduction. It was best not to get worked up. He must not.
…The Beastslayer War is a classic example of a larger, but technologically inferior fleet holding off a technologically superior force. At the Battle of Galactic Shipyard 0, the T-Mat used data garnered from a mercenary Taiidan Imperial and Turanic assault they had financed to launch an ambush on the unfinished ship. Only by chance and a diversion by the Bentusi were those involved able to escape. However, the time bought was sufficient to allow the Beastslayer fleet to reinforce, gain allies in the Council, and prepare for a second battle, which fared much better for the project and nearly resulted in the destruction of a Mothership for the T-Mat. The lesson that is often told is that with preparation and political and military support, even a highly technological enemy can be stopped…
He was reminded of Sannel. The battle was legendary, one of the few legends she believed in. How proud she had been of her ancestors, of the Defeaters of Outside. How much he missed her.
“Delegate,” the commander interrupted. “An extremely faint signature has joined the fleet. It is moving alongside the Telana.”
“The B’qula?” Kaltar asked.
“We do not believe so. It shows no signs of hostility…it seems to match the ships that accompanied us before – the ‘guardians’ as you call them.”
The Guardians? What are they doing here? he wondered. “Is there any sign…of another Hiigaran ship joining us?”
“No, sir.”
So, it could not mean that Sannel was coming back – not that that was likely in the first place. But why else would they be around?
…Unless, they wanted to inform him of her death. Kaltar did not want to consider the possibility. But he could not come up with anything else.”
“-Wait…it is opening communications…with you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll…show me.”
No image appeared. A voice, male, resonant, a little weary and melancholy, spoke.
“I wanted you to know that you are not alone…and that someone is watching over you.”
He wasn’t expecting this. “Who – who is this? Are you a ‘Guardian’?”
“Yes,” answered the voice.
“But…what are you doing here? And just who are you?” Kaltar asked.
“I am a friend. I was – sent by a mutual acquaintance to look over you. My name is Junan.”
A mutual acquaintance? he wondered. Then, he realized. Sannel. She must be alive.
“You knew her?”
Junan knew who he was referring to without asking. “Yes. She was…a friend.” A slight twang of sadness crept up in his voice.
“A friend,” Kaltar repeated. “But why did you come here? Is she still safe?”
“Sannel…is elsewhere. She is with others now…others who have their own plans for her…others who did not want me around, because I would interfere…others who said I must leave or I must die…Sannel made it clear that I must not die, and that she would not watch me be killed.” With each sentence, more grief entered his voice, as if he regretted not being killed. “So, for her final request to me, I come to look over you, and hope that the others do not tire of her, and that she will someday come back.
Don’t we all wish that, Kaltar thought. He realized he was pacing, and looking around, found a chair, and sat in it, forcing himself to be still. “Who are these others?”
“Whispering ones, after a fashion,” Junan answered. “There are more things in the Universe than you want to think about.”
I didn’t really need you to tell me that. “Stay, if you wish, then. But I hope you realize the journey will take three months…and that our final destination is H’qura and probably the bloodiest battle in the history of the Galaxy – the two galaxies.”
“You are going,” Junan pointed out.
“I’m going out of a Bound, physical Quest, to see if there’s anything I can do to stop it. I’ve faced danger before, and I’ve lived as full and as long a life as I can expect. I’ve been planning this for some time, and I am as at peace with it as I can be,” Kaltar said. “You, though – you probably have a chance to live and escape.”
“There is nothing left back here for me. I can watch over myself. The enemy will not be able to detect my ship…and I am sure you know of our other abilities.”
“Yes,” Kaltar answered, remembering the dreaming in hyperspace, between derelicts in the far-off days of the beginning of the war. “I do.”
“I have no need to be worried. You do. I am watching over you, though. As long as I live, I swear that you shall live too.”
Kaltar felt a little overwhelmed. He hoped that this Guardian, this Hiigaran, Junan knew what he was getting into. Kaltar was throwing himself into the heart of the fire; he didn’t want Junan to try to step in between and be burned himself.
“If you have friends, other Guardians who you wish to be with, then please go. I don’t want you to-“
Junan interrupted him, starting to sound impatient. “I already am in disfavor with them. The others undoubtedly are not pleased with me. I do not want to return to them. It is my duty to protect those in the Line – with my life – from all threats, external and internal. To abandon her…it is a monstrous treason. I have failed her and I have failed them. I cannot – I should not have let her go – I should not have…she meant so much, she was the one thing I held dear, and I failed – I –”
Suddenly, Kaltar made the connection. “You…were her lover?” he asked incredulously. It was impossible. He had asked Sannel himself – as they had gone to the Tarl system – and she had laughed in reply. The answer had seemed so obvious, then – Kaltar could not imagine her falling in love.
But, given how withdrawn she had been, it just might have been possible. She probably would be so confused by the Bound feeling. Even after all of this time, it still confused him – why did Latal’s loss hurt so much? Why did it take so many years to begin to heal? And yet, he felt a stab of regret, even of jealousy: Why couldn’t you have told me? Would it have been so hard to admit it? Kaltar was not the only one who had tried to open her, not the only one who had tried to heal and save her.
“…After a fashion,” Junan replied. “We met after we returned from the 079s…I tried to help her, as you did. I tried to give her…small bits of happiness. But she always ended up in despair again…until you comforted her after she attempted suicide.” Now, Junan seemed envious. “She ended up meaning a lot to me. As a Guardian, I look up to her…and she was the central light in my life.”
“And were you the central light in her life?”
There was a noticeable pause. Was it consideration, or anger, or frustration, or guilt?
“I do not know,” Junan said. “But I hope I gave her something of joy. I cannot match you, and I failed her, but perhaps…”
What was Kaltar thinking? Junan was no threat, no competitor. He had had an impulse like Kaltar, one of love, if of a different kind, one to help. “It is a common failing, actually. More common than you think.”
“I will go to H’qura with you, and you, I will not fail.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“I am coming with you.”
“Junan-“
“This is my purpose now. I must protect you as you must go to H’qura. You cannot convince me otherwise.”
Kaltar let out a breath. “Then come along. If your path must be the same as mine, if you must walk before death with me…then, I suppose, I welcome to you to the path under the shadow…the path of grieving hearts.”

Kaltar regarded the cryo unit with skepticism. Much of the rest of the Telana crew had already undergone the freezing, and were blissfully sleeping away the weeks until the Telana arrived at the satellite galaxy.
“It is perfectly safe,” the Telana commander said. “It is actually remotely derived from the Kushan’s ancient Exodus, because that was when the most experience about cryogenics was gained. Most of the process was actually partly based on the hibernation of several desert animals, in which the cells would be desiccated; this allowed for safe freezing and reawakening. Obviously, we have improved since then – for example, the actual freezing only takes a few hours instead of weeks. Of course, you will be kept unconscious the whole time. It is all based on known principles – Hiigaran principles-“ he added, as if that somehow made it immune from faults. “We will make sure you are kept safe.”
“Good…because I remember that many of those died during the Hiigaran’s Exodus because of attacks,” Kaltar said. “And they reawakened to find their own home destroyed.”
“Out home is already destroyed,” the commander gravely stated. “And we will fare better. When you wake up next – we will be two weeks from H’qura…and we will be in another galaxy.”
Kaltar nodded. “I suppose I will be looking forward to it. May – may the Elders guide you,” he forced out.
“One last thing,” the commander said. “It is said that those who are Sleepers…dream.”
“Dream?” Kaltar asked. His thoughts turned to Junan.
“Yes. It is supposed to be vivid – and long…I suppose you will have to see for yourself.”
“I suppose I will.”
“Sir, may the Elders guide your path,” the commander said.
Kaltar got ready, was led in to the confining coffin-like chamber within. It was snug, dark, some materials pressing into his body. Then a needle injection pierced his arm. Reality collapsed. In a way, it was like going to sleep.

The world was filled with golden light.
Mountains towered high over Kaltar, their ancient icy crests melting, avalanches rushing, flowing down their sides. The ground was dry, broken, crunching with each step he took the night sky was filled with black, threatening clouds. Flashes of lightning, bright enough to illuminate miles around, crackled down ominously from the broken sky. The air smelled, choked of smoke, each breath like a stab into his body.
Kaltar must face it – the inferno Latal had warned him about. He had not seen what it would be like to live in this world. But now he was stuck.
He past a muddy lake – perhaps once frozen. This was where he had found Sannel before. The was nothing left in it now. There had to be someone else, then, for him to find, someone to talk to.
Kaltar kept on walking through the ruined landscape, golden light of fire illuminating his path. He looked down at himself – faint orange-red light flickered. The fire within was, at last, beginning to dim.
In the distance, he heard footsteps, thousands of them, an army of them. It came from one of the mountain passes. Kaltar made his way there, trying to climb over the hills. The rock felt scalding hot, as if it surely should be glowing. Kaltar slid down, his feet dangling in an avalanche.
But he was not hurt. Kaltar’s resolve hardened, and he pushed himself upwards, despite the heat and pressure and pain, upwards, until he at last succeeded.
A mammoth bonfire reached into the heavens. One figure looked down upon the plains below, as if a prophet. And on the burning plains were thousands, millions, arrayed into row upon row. An army. Of the ones he could see, they all were Zaala.
Kaltar approached the figure, almost sliding down. It was Great Elder Kelak. She looked down on the masses below with a broad smile on her face, her arms spread out.
“It is glorious, isn’t it?” she asked.
“What?” demanded Kaltar. “Millions of our people turned into a war machine?”
The Elder turned to Kaltar. “The enemy killed millions of us. They thought they could get away with it. But we will prove them wrong. They will prove them wrong! We will crush them!”
“And what will we lose in return?”
Kelak turned back to the army. “We have already lost all that is important. We have already lost all that we hold dear. We have nothing to lose. Our people…were meant to be this.”
“I don’t believe it,” Kaltar said. “I refuse to believe it. We serve-“
“The One, the Bound, the family, the kindred, the clan, and the people,” she finished. “And they all were taken from us. They all demand justice! We will heed their calls.”
“But we won’t stop them – we can’t,” he protested. “What good, what justice will be done if it will take a million years for them to be hurt-“
“We ultimately serve the Greater Elders, and we will be doing their bidding. We are chosen to carry out their purposes.”
“What? What purpose will be served? What are their purposes?”
The Elder smiled again. “Have you not understood, Delegate Kaltar? Do you not see the glorious flames that consume the world? Have you forgotten the anger you rightly felt? Their purposes are complete and utter destruction. They designed the Universe to kill itself, and we – we will be their instrument to carry out that destruction. They want war, and we will give it to them.”
“No, no-“
“Look,” she pointed at the army. “They go of their own will and their Elder’s will.”
“No! Someone has to stop it!”
“It is my purpose to lead them. I will not abandon them…but perhaps he knows something.” She indicated the summit of the mountain he was at the foot of. Kaltar wanted to save her from this madness, but she was consumed. His only hope, he knew, was to reach the apex.
Once again, Kaltar began climbing, forcing each step, each inch up the peak. Rocks tumbled down around him, showering him with pebbles. Upwards, upwards.
At the top, someone was looking down at it all, above the flames. Below, Kaltar saw that the army of Zaala was but one, one of thousands.
Takell.
“You’re just going to watch it?”
“What else should I do? I cannot stop them. I tried to hold them together – and this is what happened.”
“You did hold them together. We can now turn them away. We can now –“
“No, we cannot,” Takell said, resigned. “This is their existence, now. Perhaps it is better if we let them be happy. After all, this is what they want.”
“But we can’t just let them kill themselves-“
“The enemy started it. They have killed far more than those killed here. Do we not have a chance to defend ourselves?”
“Yes, but – yes, and I will fight alongside the rest for that chance. But this – this isn’t defending ourselves, it is about destroying ourselves and the enemy. You have worked so hard to preserve them. Will you now abandon them?”
Takell looked at him. “I have not been able to do anything for them. And we both cannot abandon them, because we caused it. We are a part of it. You are a part of it.”
Kaltar felt as if he was being kicked, kicked off the summit, off the mountain, plunging, plummeting fast into the masses. With a cry, he landed on the ground, in burning mud, as others walked past him in rank and file.
For so long, he was alone in this crowd, none noticing him. But, eventually, he found a hand being offered to him, patient, as if it had always been there.
He took it, and pulled himself off the ground. It was the Bitalq sheklob, clothed in layers of white, her face obscured to him.
“You…at last you have come.”
“Yes,” she answered. “We are going with you.”
“And you will help me. You can stop them.”
“We go only to seek our answers.”
“But you will – you can’t let them do this to themselves. You must help them.”
She walked along with him, as he went alongside the armies. “We are already doing everything in our power.”
Anger flared up within him. “But – no, you aren’t! Don’t you realize what this will mean? Don’t you see how serious this is? If you don’t – if you don’t stop holding back, billions will die – including you!”
“We know,”
“What, you don’t care?” Kaltar accused.
“We do care.”
“Then why did you let it get this far.”
“We have already hurt so many. It grieves us so to do it. If we kill even just one more, then how much of ourselves do we lose? How much have we already lost? Is it truly wise to preserve life by ending life? We seek a better way.”
The armies marched, Kaltar propelling himself by sheer force of will. In the distance, people disappeared into the darkness. It took a while, but Kaltar realized what it was – a precipice.
In his long distraction, the sheklob had gone. But another familiar, resonant voice spoke to him.
“How many would you kill to end this? How many have you already killed?”
The Bitalq Leader. He stood between Kaltar and the edge. His skin was burnt, but still the staff remained in his grip, as a blue-white glow pulsed from the orb that sat on top.
“You have already murdered. There is not turning back,” he said, the voice chilling, enraging Kaltar. He had tempted him. He had provoked. He had endangered the lives of so many, for vengeance.
The Bitalq stared at Kaltar. “You understand that which I have taught you. You did what I would have done. You are one of us. Join us, and we can together fulfill Dlak’s purposes of hate.”
A flicker of gold radiated from Kaltar, as his fists clenched. “No. I won’t. I am not one of you, and I refuse to become you.”
“I cannot let you interfere. This is our destiny.” His voice seemed to come from all around Kaltar. “You shall not pass.” He came nearer.
“No!”
The Bitalq aimed the staff at Kaltar. Kaltar rushed ahead, shoving into the Bitalq, determined to stop the madness. Electric fire flowed into Kaltar, but he fought back, trying to get the staff, pushing the Bitalq, pushing him over the edge.
The Leader vanished into the darkness. Kaltar had killed him again. He was dragged into the abyss.
Kaltar fell endlessly. “Someone…someone, anyone help! Help!” He looked around.
He was not alone. Falling with him, she held her eyes closed, holding herself, her skin paled as if all life had been drained from her. An icy gust blasted Kaltar.
“Sannel…” He tried to near her, but he was falling, and could do nothing but flail. She remained untouchable, impossible to reach. “Sannel…don’t worry. We can work through this.” She whispered to herself, shrouded in ice and coldness.
“Speak to me.”
She held silent, receding into the darkness.
“Please!” Kaltar pleaded. “Come to me.”
The frigid gust carried her words.
Go away. I don’t want to be Lost.
Then, the darkness claimed her.
The descent continued.
“Is there…anyone…anyone at all…”
A faint light fell upon Kaltar.
“Now do you understand what I meant?” Latal asked.
“Yes…yes. An inferno was all that came of it…I tried…tried so hard to get you back…”
Latal, bathed in light, shook her head. “This is all that’s left of me…you have led yourself here to get it.”
“Where am I?”
“The end of the world,” Latal answered. “If only you had understood sooner. I never wanted this, Kaltar. I never wanted it, but you did. Now, it is too late for you.”
“I know,” Kaltar said, looking down into the dark.
“Goodbye.” A flash of light lit him, but when he turned to her, she was gone.
Kaltar was reaching the end. A wall of black was racing up to meet him. What lay behind, he did not know.
The blackness spread around him, rushed into him. The voice tore him apart, exposing him to nothingness.
Utter emptiness.
Yet, Kaltar was aware. Am I dead? he thought.
No, came a voice. Junan. You are not.
What are you doing here? Kaltar wondered.
I interrupted your Dream. It was ending...You act as if you are not used to having a Guardian inside your mind as you dream, he added.
What? What dream?
You are sleeping onboard the Telana. We are nearing our destination: H’qura.
Kaltar tried to remember.
I thought you should know…and you were becoming disturbed. I am watching over you. No harm will come to you.
Thank you…but can you let me…
Before he could finish the thought, Junan had already pushed him into dreamless sleep.

“Are you awake? Sir?”
It was the ship’s physician. He was in the infirmary. He had Awakened.
“Sir?”
Groggily, he answered. “…Yes. Yes. I am awake.”
“You have been successfully brought out of cold sleep, as well as the rest of the crew,” the doctor said.
“Are we…” He looked around. The commander was also here.
“We have arrived in the B’qula home galaxy. We are now about two weeks away from H’qura. The B’qula have not noticed it yet. At the moment, we are in normal space. The fleet needed to harvest resources and refuel before engaging the enemy.”
“…Good…” He lay his head down.
After a few moments, he asked, “Can I see it?”
“It would be unwise to exert yourself-“ began the doctor.
“I think I can get up.” Kaltar sat up and pushed himself off the bed, bracing it to get some strength. After a minute, he shakily let go and was able to stand up.
“I can walk. I am all right,” he reassured. Unsteadily, Kaltar began stepping, then walking slowly. The commander accompanied him as he made his way to the gathering room. That would be where he would view the battles, and there he could see for himself.
Kaltar slumped into the chair, catching his breath. The commander activated the external view. Kaltar was immersed in holographic light.
In front was a wall of gold-white illumination, millions of stars ahead. They were on the edge of the galaxy, about to head to its core. The view reminded him of those in the Inner Rim, those from home.
Kaltar looked around, and found a spiral above and behind. It loomed in the sky, like Jekalte had at home. The Galaxy from the outside. Its faint grey arms were majestically wound around the Core, nebulae and dust banks lining the outer regions. Kaltar could pick out many of the famous landmarks of the Galaxy – twenty or so globular clusters, the Great Nebula of Kadesh, the Tel-Fal star cloud, the Eshel dark nebula. And, in the light of the core, Kaltar knew where his home had been, where Hiigara had been.
It was hard to believe the B’qula had conquered most of it. There was no blood red stain to indicate their presence, no signs of their war. Nor did it slowly spin as in the Council station, nor were the inhabited worlds indicated. It simply was, vast and timeless. It was as if it had never been touched by life.
It’s beautiful.
He knew he’d probably never enter it again. He could not return with the memories of seeing it from this perspective. The enemy had taken that from him. It had made all of the struggles and wars seem so pointless – but there was no way to communicate it with those still huddling in the Arks, who probably were still so…unaware.
“Enough,” he said, and laid back.

“We must assume that the B’qula will be alerted to our presence soon. Other fleets have already begun attacks on B’qula targets, and a few have been followed by B’qula fleets. Once we attack, the B’qula may be able to track us from here to H’qura. We cannot call for help. We will need to be at full readiness. Your weapons and defenses must be at maximum efficiency. From this point forward, there can be no retreat.
“All ships, prepare to jump to normal space.”
It was time. Galactic Fleet 37 would face its first battle, the first of several diversions. They had made little actual progress to H’qura since arriving – instead meandering off towards a world that was scouted to be a local center of operations for the B’qula. With luck, they would believe the Council’s attacks to be random, and they would not realize the true target.
“All hands – jumping,” reported the commander.
The hyperdrives discharged their energy, and the familiar blue wall of light consumed Kaltar. They fell to normal space. They had arrived.
The telemetry appeared before Kaltar – B’qula ships highlighted in red, Council ships in green. The Telana was towards the center of the formation, playing rear guard with the carriers, support ships, and other ships less suited for combat. Walls of offensive capital ships had jumped in ahead in front of them.
They were over an uninhabited world, a Battleship and its escorts in orbit. All of them were to be destroyed. They noticed the intruders and advanced.
B’qula ships thrust forward, spreading into the forward fleet, raking ships with silver ion cannon fire. Escorting strike craft retaliated, breaking into small claws, engaging the drones one by one. Meanwhile, the walls pushed themselves nearer. From Hiigaran Cruisers, siege cannon shots were fired. The brilliant yellow-white globes smashed into the Battleship and its escorts, damaging fighters.
The Telana lurched ahead, energy cannons blazing, firing at distracted Fighters as the main fleet began pounding the B’qula capital ships with red and blue and yellow ion beams. In response, grey-white ion cannons lashed out, digging into Hiigaran and Taiidan ships. B’qula Destroyers and Frigates were turned against one another by Hiigarans and T-Mat. In the distance, a chain of light appeared as a fighter wing was destroyed.
The Council ships began moving into a sphere around the Battleship, cruisers and destroyers, T-Mat Megaships and Bentusi Tradeships, as well as heavy fighters. The B’qula ships aimed themselves at capital ships, firing gravity waves, cruisers and destroyers shuddering apart, a T-Mat Megaship sheared apart.
But the Council fleet proved too well-armed. Great holes were bored into the Battleship until with a great white flash of light, it burst apart. The capital ships finished off the remaining escorts as fighters and corvettes returned to their carriers.
“The B’qula have sent out a call for reinforcements. We do not have much time. No inhibitor fields are present. All ships, prepare for emergency hyperspace,” a Taiidan voice said.
The fleet jumped to third-level hyperspace. Then, they fled, escaping before the enemy could arrive.

The journey was becoming much harder. Perhaps an eighth of the fleet had already been lost. It was weighing down hard on the crew of the Telana. He could see it in their eyes, their downward casts, their tired, sleepless faces. The viscous fighting had left no doubt of their fates. Already, the Telana had sustained heavy damage fro Fighters in a previous battles. While the T-Mat-derived armor and repair ships had ablated some of the damage, and while the Fighters had retreated after only a few seconds, the brief brush with death had disturbed them all.
They were, at last, nearing the end of the path. Galactic Fleet 37 was two hundred light years from H’qura – two days with the meandering course it would follow. There were scattered reports from the other fleets, thought they remained silent from most of the time – they too neared H’qura, some taking heavy damage, others very little. Only one last target, one last diversion remained – a hyperspace inhibitor, hundreds of thousands of years old, that blocked their path.
The fleet prepared, arranging into strike formations. Then, they jumped to normal space.
The hyperspace inhibitor lay directly ahead, only perhaps fifty k’loms away. A sphere wrought in grey-white, dating back to the time of the Naggarok, barely strong enough to keep the fleet out of hyperspace. Once, it would have been seen as a priceless artifact, coveted by all who could reach it. Now, it would be utterly destroyed.
The Hiigaran Cruisers and Carriers opened fire with their siege cannons. The shots impacted, the waves of destruction tearing wounds into the inhibitor. Then, the fleet opened fire, plasma bombs and ion cannons thrashing the ancient B’qula artifact.
Kaltar noticed the T-Mat vessels turning back, making their agonizingly slow turns.
“T-Mat ships, return at once to the target,” ordered a Hiigaran captain.
“No. Do not meddle with us. You do not understand.”
Arrogant they might be, Kaltar knew they had Visions, and they had sensed something.
“Commander,” began Kaltar.
“Yes, sir?”
“Prepare to turn – follow the T-Mat.”
“Why, sir?” But the Telana did begin to turn, breaking off.
Anomalies, hyperspace signatures appeared around the battle. The B’qula had tracked them down. The hyperspace windows faded, revealing two Battleships and over thirty Destroyers and Frigates. Fighters swarmed outwards.
“B’qula ships emerging from hyperspace – they are advancing on our position!”
The T-Mat were in a rough sphere around the Battleships. The B’qula bombarded their vessels. “Attack the escorts,” they said impatiently.
“The Battleships-”
The huge behemoths were aiming themselves at the two remaining Megaships.
“They are being dealt with.”
The Battleships froze, seeming to quiver. The T-Mat were subverting them, Kaltar knew, bending all of their attention towards them. They slowly spun, aiming themselves at each other. For a long moment, they were frozen. Then, they fired their main cannons. With white flashes of light, fragments broke off the Battleships. The T-Mat let go, opening fire, gouging into the wounds.
Hiigaran and Taiidan and Zaala ships engaged the B’qula Frigates and Destroyers. The Telana joined in, picking off Fighters with its point defense cannons. A flash of light erupted as the T-Mat finished off one Battleship. Hiigaran ships subverted some of the Frigates and Destroyers, turning them against the remaining one. The Taiidan and Zaala and Bentusi vessels engaged the remaining ones. The B’qula ships were destroyed one by one, until with a flash of light, the second Battleship exploded. The Council ships finished off the stragglers.
They had survived.
“That was…close,” Kaltar said.
“Yes, sir,” said the commander. “But I am afraid that will be a mere skirmish compared to what is coming.”

Kaltar looked out on the ships. Galactic Fleet 37 had merged with three other fleets into a force of six hundred ships. They were on the outskirts of the H’quran system, two light years from the final battle. Another fleet was to have joined them, but it had been lost.
Kaltar took in a breath, trying to stop his heart from pounding, trying to lose himself in a steady rhythm of breathing.
Kaltar was lucky to have made it this far. But, at least, he would have his chance. Soon, he would see their ancient home. But every day, it seemed less and less likely he would find the answers he sought.
“Are you there, Junan?” Kaltar asked out on a thought.
“I always am.” The commander had not informed Kaltar that his ship had opened communications with the Telana. But it was probably not beyond a Guardian’s ability to talk to him like this.
“I suppose I should thank you…for stopping that Dream.”
“It was of no concern.”
“And are you ready to go to H’qura.?”
“I need no preparation. If it was needed, I could leave for there as we speak.”
Kaltar nodded, though it made no difference. “I haven’t seen your ship. Are you actually with us? Have you been able to avoid damage?”
“My ship is cloaked. The B’qula cannot detect it…while I cannot attack directly, I have done my best to protect you. Until the final battle, I cannot expose myself. The B’qula must not know of my existence. It would betray my fellow Guardians and Sannel if I were to risk them and myself.”
“Do you honestly think you will survive?” Kaltar asked.
There was a moment of silence.
“If you are going to argue with a Guardian of the Line of Tasiin, I suggest that you practice with others,” Junan began.
“I think I have been doing that for every day of my tenure as a Delegate of the Council.”
“That is a good start,” Junan said with more than a hint of irony. “When you become skilled enough to convince the T-Mat to obey your every whim, then tell me.”
Kaltar laughed. “I didn’t know your kind even had a sense of humor.”
“It is strange. Sannel said the same thing. Did you discuss us together, deciding we were devoid of humor, when you thought we were not listening?”
“I am sure she is fine,” Kaltar said.
“I did not ask,” Junan replied, much more seriously. But Kaltar knew from the grief in his voice that he really did miss her.
“Of course not.”
There was silence.
Kaltar once again turned back to the view of the fleet. He would soon be a part of the largest battle of the war, if in a minor way. Kaltar would at last go home. And, likely, he had just one more day to live.
He resisted the urge to get up and look for that golden vial that contained all that was left of Latal.
So many good people would soon die – the Bitalq, Takell, the crew of the Telana. Perhaps, probably even Junan, despites his assurances. As in his Dream, none would try to stop it. The Galaxy’s peoples would die, the B’qula would die, and Kaltar would die. Was that not what his Dream was trying to tell him, no matter how much he avoided it? That, in his quest to bring back Latal, he had started the inferno and now it had spread throughout the galaxies, and that he could do nothing to stop it? That the universe, and the Elders themselves were going insane with this madness? That all was doomed, and the answers he sought were in doubt?
The Universe is rigged to kill us, Sannel had said.
Kaltar lost himself in the black depths of hyperspace.

Commodore-SLS

29th Jul 02, 5:08 PM

Woah...VERY nice.

And it seems to be coming out faster, too. Valde bene, perfecte, pro bono amicus.

aShWiN

29th Jul 02, 7:45 PM

:bow:

Shooter

29th Jul 02, 8:23 PM

wow.

I wait. Hopefully not long.

DIE B'qula. DIE.

Cooker

29th Jul 02, 9:42 PM

Gentleman, it seemed that you have not used spell check. Not been offensive but word contain spell check for a reason. (Assume you use word)

Thanks for the work, great as ususal.

Commodore-SLS

29th Jul 02, 10:36 PM

Bah, spell check is for final drafts. The greatness shines through.

Xellos

30th Jul 02, 7:25 AM

You know, I don't know what's worse. Waiting for each new chapter or knowing that this wonderful story is soon to end. It's fascinating, seeing how you've grown the seeds of Homeworld into something majestic and beautiful. First with Outside, and now with NC.

It'll be interesting to see if any of Outside influenced Homeworld 2. It may just be a suspicion, but I think that the creators of Homeworld did read some of the earlier fics. Though probably not the Fleet Intelligence Logs, seeing that those are basically just revamping the story *they* wrote in the first place. *laughter* But Outside... was something more. Something special.

In many ways, it's like watching generations of a family. Seeing the family grow, become something more. Some people hate Cataclysm with a passion, claim that it corrupted the story into something stupid and idiotic. But without Cataclysm... Outside would not have been born. And its child, Naggarrok's Children, never conceived of.

It'll be interesting to see how Homeworld II will influence you, Brian.

BTW, sorry I've not written lately, I've been overwhelmed with RL stuff. *sigh* Too bad you're not going to ComicCon, I'm going to be there. *chuckle* Even if my web-comic hasn't updated lately (damn scanner).

Well, enough praise, time to get back to that overdue paper...

Seeker

31st Jul 02, 8:06 PM

I just finished reading all seven pages, (in four hours) I can barely read what I am writing, but all I can say is.......

OMFG!! The Revelation, you are one master of words.

I :bow: to your superior skilz.

:up: Go for it The Revelation, we are all waiting for more.

The Reflection

1st Aug 02, 1:00 PM

It's here...the second to last update of NC.

And it seems to be coming out faster, too.
I didn't think so, actually, and I checked with Excel, dividing the words for each chapter by the number of days it took to post.
The result was this:
http://members.aol.com/wstar345/WordsPerDay.gif
So, on the whole, I guess you're right. Thank you.

Gentleman, it seemed that you have not used spell check. Not been offensive but word contain spell check for a reason. (Assume you use word)
Thanks for catching that. You see, I usually rely on Word's spell-check-as-you-write, with the red underline under misspelled words. However, a third of the way into chapter 21, Word decided there are too many errors to do that anymore (all of those proper names and snippets of Bitalq contribute). So, I typed that one blind and hoped that there weren't too many. Going back, though, I spell-checked much of NC, and I found a lot more typoes than I thought there would be in chapter 21. I have fixed at least some of them and edited chapter 21 accordingly. I also spell checked chapter 22 before now, so I'm fairly sure it's ok.
Although it was kind of interesting to learn that, according to the Flesch-Kincaid scale, I wrote NC at a 5.2nd grade level (I don't seem to recall my reading comprehension changing every 0.1 grade in school, though ;) ).

You know, I don't know what's worse. Waiting for each new chapter or knowing that this wonderful story is soon to end. It's fascinating, seeing how you've grown the seeds of Homeworld into something majestic and beautiful. First with Outside, and now with NC...
In many ways, it's like watching generations of a family. Seeing the family grow, become something more. Some people hate Cataclysm with a passion, claim that it corrupted the story into something stupid and idiotic. But without Cataclysm... Outside would not have been born. And its child, Naggarrok's Children, never conceived of.
And it was all started by "...Something from Outside!" NC, I know, is quite far removed from Homeworld. There's still some resemblance, but it's a distant one. I think it's closer to being a Cataclysm story in feel. It's even closer to being an Outside story. With four generations, so to speak, between NC and Homeworld, it's bound to look different. Something I have been doing with Kaltar's story, though, is to try to catch a faint echo of Homeworld with the journey of H'qura. Both the Kushan and the Council have lost their homes and are beset by enemies, and they are both determined to go home and defeat those who have wronged them - although the Kushan to live there, and the Council to die there. The point is to bring it in a circle, adding just a little more to the story of Homeworld, adding a bit more to the story of Cataclysm, adding a great deal to Outside, and completing itself.
To be honest, I'm a little glad that it's finally beginning to come to an end. Not that I haven't enjoyed writing NC - on the contrary, I have enjoyed it very much, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to come this far. I like what it has been able to do, and I have a good feeling about what's coming up. But, it has been sixteen months and 140,000 words since I first started, and I start to grow a little weary. Greener pastures are beckoning. But it has been enjoyable, and there's still some to come yet: the last two chapters and the epilogue of NC, as well as a short story or two.

Thank you, Commodore, aShWiN, Shooter, Cooker, Xellos, and
Seeker.

Anyway, it's time for chapter 22!
It's a bit shorter than chapter 21 - it's the battle chapter. I'm afraid the actual battle itself isn't the entire chapter - it's probably about the same length as the final battle of Outside. I managed to sneak some characterization into parts, so it should be a bit better than that chapter of Outside.
After this, it's just the ending - two chapters and an epilogue. That may take a little while - I just have the title and quote for chapter 23 written, which I knew since before I started NC. Hopefully not very long, though.
Yes, I know it sounds impossible, but the next time I post more of NC here, it will be the ending of Naggarok's Children! And it will be promptly followed by the flight of pigs, the freezing of the Sun, and the release of HW2 screenshots! ;)

The Reflection

1st Aug 02, 1:02 PM

22
H’qura
It is regrettable that we must do this.
No. This is useful. We do not regret it.
Conflict is not our custom. We go along with this only because we do not want our ancestors to end any more songs.
You have learned so little. War is inevitable. We have embraced it. We have Seen it. Our ancestors attacked us and interfered, now we will interfere in return. We will join the others in attacking H’qura.
Do you not find it disturbing that we are plotting to destroy an entire world?
They are foolish to bind their future to one world.
They were not expecting enemies to be near.
You were not expecting them to arrive in our galaxy. That did not stop them from attacking.
We had anticipated them. We remember Tasiin. We knew the consequences.
…Consider this: the ancestors kill billions in distant galaxies. By destroying one world, you will save millions.
That does not concern you, however: Only that they have hurt you does.
True. But at least our goals coincide. The entire Council’s goals coincide. Even the Bounds’.
…We find it regrettable that we agree.

Bentusi and T-Mat
GSY 21981.9 (12471.8 AHL)

Child-mind.
The message filtered deep, deep inwards, through defenses, through wall after wall, until it reached her core. Sannel was clinging to that innermost part of herself, assuming the image and feeling of her Bound body. As the Whispering Ones’ words reached her, she imagined, as she held to her knees, that she was tilting her head upwards to face them.
Your kinds’ fleets are entering the H’quran star system.
She looked down again.
If you still wish to watch, we must go there.
She nodded.
Disturbing, said Outside, as it rose up to her conscious. It had been inside her, feeling like a nauseating tickle, as Sannel let it continue to work on her, transform her. You must prepare. You must stop this self-inflicted torment if you are to take us back. End this.
Terrifyingly, Sannel imagined her mouth forming into a smile.
Do not be amused, it warned threateningly. You risk failure.
Uncontrollably, Sannel started laughing. Outside coalesced around her, sent a slap of pain. But she could only laugh harder.
Stop!
I can’t, Sannel cried as the laughter bubbled out of her. I can’t stop it! It was beginning to consume her. In her mind, her body began running out of air. She started gasping, suffocating, and yet she still couldn’t stop.
She remembered what to do, what she could do, what she was craving.
Sannel reached inwards, deeper and deeper, with her limbs of gravity. She had become more refined, and she had done this before. Sannel activated all of the pain nerves in her Bound body.
It was only the tiniest piece of her, but it was the most important part, the part she considered hers. She felt as if she was on fire. Her laughter stopped, and she clutched herself. Her Bound body shook, quivered, becoming pain, impossible to imagine that there was anything else. It filtered back outwards, the torment stretching into the beyond-Unbound parts of her, until all of her was looking inwards, at that tiny speck of hurt. It was enough. It was enough, she told herself. She should stop. Slowly, she released her grip on herself, and the pain faded, the fire stilled, her mind drifting again. She imagined a cold shiver running up her body, and with it a wave of relief. She took a few breaths, a few eternal seconds.
I am ready, she at last said.
It is time, the Whispering Ones replied. The glowing white hypershift portal opened – an instant path to H’qura, the last source of light.
Come along, Sannel told Ship.
Silently, it obeyed. Sannel would be one step closer to the end. Ship entered the hypershift portal, and they went to H’qura.

The blue light of hyperspace faded. The Telana and the four Galactic Fleets had made it to the inner inhibitor station, burning a path to H’qura. Kaltar had made it to within one light year of H’qura.
Elders, we are in. Kaltar had never even been to Hiigara – few non-Hiigarans had for centuries, but now he was just a few hours from a much older center of power.
A display appeared, holographically rendering the Council ships and the enemy. A massive station – appearing like a small white moon – lay ahead. Surrounding it was a shell of B’qula warships – a hundred Frigates and Destroyers – and six Battleships. All of them generated dampening fields, and if they were to reach H’qura, all of them had to be destroyed.
“Elders,” muttered the commander of the Telana.
Here we go, thought Kaltar.
Out of Hiigaran and Taiidan Carriers, out of Bentusi Tradeships, off of T-Mat Megaships, fighter drones launched, not even bothering to array into formations. They dove into the sphere of B’qula capital ships, blazing with ion cannons. A web of silver beams erupted as the B’qula ships opened fire, as clouds of opposing Fighters were launched. The Unbound drones darted away, towards formations of Hiigaran and Taiidan ships, drawing B’qula capital ships outwards. Hiigaran vessels opened fire with their siege cannons. The orbs hit Fighters, Frigates, Destroyers, waves of destruction rolling outwards.
As the more distant B’qula starships moved around to close the gap, T-Mat and I’ao vessels accelerated forwards, opening fire with their weapons on the Battleships. Blue and violet beams converged on the huge enemy starships. The T-Mat reached out, subverting ten, twenty B’qula Frigates, which swung inwards, adding their fire to beset the behemoths.
The enemy advanced, dozens of warships, taking aim. They fired, spectra lighting up the scene as if space-time itself had been broken, refracted starlight eerily cast on their targets. And then, all at once, dozens of Council ships exploded, debris spraying outwards. In one moment, Kaltar saw the deaths of hundreds of Hiigarans, Taiidan, Zaala, Bentusi, T-Mat, I’ao, Turanic, Frrern. He took a moment, but wasn’t sure what to believe anymore about where they had gone.
He shifted his mind elsewhere, trying to block out the death.
They must be desperate…and we are in too deep.
B’qula Fighters swarmed nearer, raking others with their ion cannons as they arranged themselves in deadly spheres. More Council starships flared up with explosions. Claws and x’s of fighters and corvettes at last entered the battle in full, gearing into aggressive mode, launching plasma bombs and projectiles and missiles into the white fighters.
As the Hiigaran and Taiidan vessels continued handling parts of the sphere of B’qula warships, more Frigates and Destroyers joined the skirmish. Meanwhile, the sphere of ships was being drawn into several fronts, leaving wider and wider holes in the defense of the station. Walls of Zaala, Turanic, and Frrern warships advanced inwards, accompanied by Bentusi Tradeships. The Telana and others followed, and in the rear, a sole T-Mat Mothership, engaged escorts, trailing the main armada.
“Sir, it appears there is a gauntlet we must overcome,” said the commander.
Ahead, B’qula Fighters were carving into, scathing into Zaala ships. The Telana fired at the Fighters with its ion cannon. The enemy craft drew nearer.
From the side, a Bentusi Tradeship opened fire, yellow ion cannons tracking the fighters. A wing of Zaala corvettes descended on them, as well as a wall of five or six Super Acolytes. With white flashes of light, the B’qula craft exploded.
Now, they were within range of the Battleships. From several vectors, Council ships opened fire, bombarding the Battleships. One already had been destroyed, and as Council starships began arraying themselves into a sphere around the station. Hundreds of ion beams converged, while strike craft and anti-fighter capital ships finished off the Fighters.
The Battleships twisted and turned, seeking to pick off whatever they could, but there was nowhere to go. After a minute, one, then another, then another burst apart with brilliant flashes of light. Hiigaran and Taiidan vessel, leaving behind the few remaining Frigates and Destroyers, joined in. Under the new onslaught, the Battleships were destroyed.
Now for the station.
Out of a lone Hiigaran carrier, towards the rear of the battle, a high-yield nuclear weapon, that had been specially made and intended for use against the H’quran inhibitor station, plunged downwards, through the fleet into the station. A tremendous blast radiated outwards, leaving a huge wound in the artificial planetoid. Hiigaran starships fired their siege cannons, bombarding the station. The Council fleet joined in with their ion beams. Explosions rocked the station. Slowly, the artificial planetoid was eroded under the constant fire, shuddering, fragments splitting away. The station withered away, at last breaking apart into a cloud of wreckage.
Kaltar tried to consider it, feeling his heart pound and his veins filled with adrenaline, remembering the Dream, the insanity of it all. It seemed so confusing for it to be so revolting and thrilling at once, both for life and bringing death. But the fleet gave him no time to sort it out. His heart pounded faster again with the announcement.
“All ships – set course for H’qura. Engage hyperdrives!”
Once again, the blue glow of hyperspace enveloped Kaltar.

Here at long last.
Takell addressed Kaltar and the other delegates of the Galactic Council. He had chosen to come to H’qura, in the hope that some peach could be forged, unlikely as it was. After all, there wasn’t all that much of a Council or a Galaxy for him to preside over anymore. The Telana crew were undoubtedly listening in on some other Hiigaran, an admiral who would inform them of last-minute stratagems, reviewing battle plans, inspiring them to destruction. But to the few who would listen, Takell spoke, and Kaltar thought he would find him more interesting.
“We are gathered in hyperspace just a few moments from H’qura,” Takell began. “Our home of a million years ago, the eventual source of the war. And, I must add, we will be going into more trouble and blood than we have ever been in before. What you will see may disturb you. The battles that brought you here were insignificant compared to what will begin in a few minutes. We must assume the B’qula and the H’qurans know of our presence and have gathered to defend this world.
“We will be going in from four directions in a pyramid around H’qura. About half of our fleet will accompany the Retribution. The two prototypes will accompany the other fleets and will destroy and planet-destroyers before they can attack the Retribution. Support ships will stay near the Retribution and guard it, while all other vessels will go forth and engage any B’qula vessels and the H’quran defense satellites. It will take an hour for the Retribution to charge up and fire. Once that happens, hyperspace if possible. While engaging the B’qula fleet is a secondary objective, we are here to protect our children and races we have never met by destroying H’qura. This is about the future and unfortunately not the present.
“Rest assured that your peoples are safe in the Arks, in the Galactic Halo. Once they learn of the outcome of the battle, they will begin leaving the Galaxy. Already, 83% of the Galaxy has been…subdued. But – almost half of the population has survived. The Galaxy, as a whole, can survive. And that is what is important – not killing the enemy, but being the saviors of our people. Perhaps someday, they can finish the job we will begin.
“I wish none of this was necessary…I wish the way to save our people was not through destroying another. Yet, I still hope that some peace can eventually be found. I hope that we do not waste our lives in our ventures. Most of all…I hope that as much good that can come out of this as possible will come forth. I wish you all happiness and fulfillment for however long we have left.” He bowed. “Farewell.”
Kaltar’s gaze flickered to a display of the fleet. The Telana was a part of the main armada. In every direction, ships – frigates, destroyers, cruisers, carriers, battleships – floated in formations in the blackness of hyperspace. In the distance, behind the Telana was the monster of a planet-destroyer, the Retribution, about to destroy the source of Kaltar’s answers, assuming there were any. Surrounding it were Hiigaran and Taiidan defense-field generators, repair ships, and fighters. Elsewhere were the starships of the Galactic Council – carriers and support ships, each with a spiral painted on them, an image of the Galaxy. All together, there were thousands of ships, the largest fleet in history.
He needed someone to talk to. “Just a few more minutes, Junan.”
“I know,” Junan answered.
“It is hard to believe that in a few moments…this might be the last time I will be in hyperspace,” Kaltar said, almost talking to himself.
“I know. I am savoring the experience.”
“What do you think you will do…after this battle?”
“I have not thought about it. It does not concern me.
Sannel had not given any thought about what she would do outside of the Council at first either. She had not cared either. And she had attempted suicide.
“Junan…take care of yourself. Promise me that.”
“I will be able to watch over myself, and I will watch over you.”
Kaltar didn’t know who to pray to, but if there was someone, anyone listening, he wanted them to make sure Junan survived. He did not deserve to die; he was a friend and lover to Sannel, part of his new One, and a friend to Kaltar. Please, spare him. He also hoped that others would make it – the Bitalq, Takell, and the crew of the Telana. If Sannel was still out there, he hoped she would live too. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise. But, of course, was the Universe even designed to be fair in the first place?
Their purposes are complete and utter destruction, he remembered hearing Great Elder Kelak say in his Dream.
…We can together fulfill Dlak’s purposes of hate, the Bitalq Leader added.
Kaltar suppressed a shudder.
“The fleet is ready,” said a Hiigaran admiral. “All ships prepare to jump to normal space.”
“Here we go,” Kaltar said uncertainly.
“Jump,”
Hyperspace windows engulfed the Galactic Fleet. The blue flash of light carried away Kaltar and the Telana, plunging them into normal space.
He reappeared, gazing at the holographic display of the battle that immersed him. As far as he could see were hyperspace windows, the bright glow of the Retribution’s hyperdrives in the background.
It was a wall of hyperspace windows.
The display indicated the hyperspace signatures from the other three fleets, arranged in a tetrahedron around H’qura. They too consisted of thousands of ships. Altogether, seventeen thousand Galactic starships.
Ahead was a brown streaked world, oceans a dark grey-blue. Lights in geometrical figures adorned the night side. White clouds shrouded the equator, small polar caps hugged the poles. A crater – hugged, two hundred kilometers wide scarred one of the large continents. There seemed to be only scattered vegetation, mostly along polar seas. And somewhere inside it, at its very core lay the B’qula’s center, a Shrine, as the Bitalq had called it.
H’qura. The first world.
The children had at last come home.
The display indicated a sphere of satellites and B’qula ships in orbit around H’qura – two thousand five hundred of them. The B’qula had undoubtedly called in more, or would call in for reinforcements soon. Kaltar had never heard of so many enemy ships, not even for the battle of Hiigara. They must have called in all of their ships within this galaxy.
Nervousness seemed to knot Kaltar’s insides. He gulped, at the sheer magnitude of the task.
The Hiigaran admiral’s voice cut in. “This is the Galactic Fleet representing the Galactic Council to H’qura and to the B’qula.” The B’qula had never directly replied to the Council’s communications, instead only leaving a few ominous threats. “You are ordered to surrender and halt all hostile activities. If you do not comply, we will be forced to destroy H’qura. Surrender now.”
There was silence.
“Tala’Bkula,” at last replied the B’qula, in a whisper. Impure.
“Elders,” Kaltar said involuntarily.
The B’qula fleet raced outwards on inertialess drives. The defense satellites aimed and fired.
“All ships, break in attack.
It’s begun.
With row upon row of heavy assault ships ahead and the Retribution and flagships behind, the Telana pushed forward with the Galactic Fleet. Swarms of Fighters closed in, Frigates and Destroyers. A flash of grey, silver, then orange, blue, purple, gold. The neat formations of the lead fleets dissolved into a frenzy of ion cannon fire. From behind the Telana siege cannon shots streaked ahead, burning towards the B’qula, hitting, B’qula ships exploding. B’qula warships aimed themselves at targets, firing beams of gravity waves, allied vessels shuddering apart.
Second and third ranks of capital ships concentrated dozens of beam weapons at single targets, ion brilliance coruscating, burning holes into the advancing B’qula ships, turning as the B’qula starships passed them. Flanking groups pursued the B’qula.
Clouds of enemy Fighters neared, digging into the Galactic Fleet with their beams. Wings of strike craft – scouts, interceptors, corvettes – engaged the drones. Meanwhile, walls of heavier strike craft – bombers, and Super Acolytes – formed spheres of destruction, chasing the B’qula ships.
The enemy vessels were nearing the Telana. The Telana joined the battle, cannons blazing. And the space around H’qura lit up with weapons fire.

Junan was not overwhelmed.
He had been trained to deal with multiple enemies, was adept at working with his ship. He was Unbound. Junan branched out his attention, directing his ship to ready weapons.
He would not fail Kaltar. He must carry out Sannel’s final wishes. For, he hoped, someday…someday he would meet her again, and he didn’t want his true light to be hurt.
His cloaked ship followed the Telana, sympathetic, missing Sannel and her ship. They were joined of purpose. With a silent war cry, it dove ahead, to a nearby skirmish, where a B’qula Destroyer group was engaging a Taiidan contingent. Keeping some tracks of thought focused on the Telana, on Kaltar, on his chance for redemption, his Dream ship activated, and they started pushing the Destroyer and its Frigates into a light Dream. It took a moment, several moments, but the capital ships started losing control. Their fire died down, and the row of Taiidan starships closed in. Junan held them there, imprisoning them in their own minds, imprisoning them for threatening his charge.
A group of Turanic ion fighters joined in, strafing the starships. Zaala frigates fired a missile volley, the Telana nearing. The enemies burst apart.
A new threat, behind them – two Frigates. Junan would stop them. If need be, he would stop them all, the entire B’qula fleet. He would move the entire Universe.
If only she would come back.

The battle was joined.
Flickers of orange and white, of silver and blue and red and green and violet, wave after wave of starships. In the distance, the Retribution hovered, charging its shot.
Ahead, in the distance, a B’qula planet-destroyer loomed. The Retribution was a threat – the B’qula recognized their own technology being turned against them. It aimed itself towards the Council planet-destroyer. Inside its dark, translucent interior, energies built up, light rippling inside. A sphere of Frigates protected it, destroying all who could draw near.
But in the distance, from one of the three smaller fleets, a massive radiation pulse flared, an EMP that disabled starships, Council and B’qula for dozens of k’loms outwards. It had come from a large Battleship-class vessel, one of two, that shared design elements with the Retribution.
A prototype. A miniature planet-destroyer.
The B’qula sent out vessels to seek out the Hiigaran threats, but it was too late for the planet-destroyer. The shot plunged in, detonating. A brilliant whiteness consumed the behemoth, consumed the gathering energy within. Wreckage sprayed outwards as the brilliance slowed to a stop, having consumed the bulk of the ship, then collapsed in seconds to a singularity.
Meanwhile, the Retribution slowly drew nearer to the perigee of its orbit, one less obstacle before destroying H’qura.

“B’qula planet-destroyer destroyed. The Survival has burned itself out. No other planet-destroyers detected: continue to protect the Retribution,” a Hiigaran announced.
We’re getting closer, Kaltar thought nervously. One step closer to-
Another flash of light drew his attention. Kaltar looked up, seeing black, suffocating clouds, lit only by a flaming glow shrouding H’qura. An atmospheric deprivation device must have been slipped through the defenses. The Council was now guilty of genocide, of the same crime the B’qula had committed over and over again. So many had died in a moment. It was all pointless.
There’s no turning back, Kaltar mused. We are all accomplices to murder. He remembered the Bitalq’s Leader’s dying words, imagining them whispering from H’qura.
Maybe this is what Sannel felt with K’Basal.
He turned his eyes away from the smothered burning world. The battle was raging on, the signatures of weapons filling the space around H’qura. A flock, a swarm of very faint signatures glided past the Telana. On a hunch, he checked a visual display, seeing faint surfaces rippling and undulating: solar sails, Kaltar realized. The Council had somehow managed to tell the Tik, never friendly, of H’qura, and they had come. Kaltar had to admit to feeling just a little swell of pride – after a million years, they were finally getting their chance.
Below the Telana, in the rear, were two seemingly defenseless starships, painted white, carrying an echo of the B’qula within them. Kaltar immediately recognized them: they were the Bitalq, the final survivors of their kind, who had come to H’qura for answers. Kaltar thought that there was little chance of finding them now. Yet the Bitalq glided onwards, untouched by the B’qula.
We are here with you, they seemed to say. A warm reassurance filled him.
“Sir, we have trouble,” said the Telana’s commander. Kaltar again checked the sensors display, and found the commander was right. A B’qula Destroyer was closing in, destroying Zaala ship after Zaala ship. Soon it would reach the Telana.
“Do whatever it is that you have to do. I can’t ask for any more,” Kaltar said with apprehension.
The Telana joined with other frigates in wall formation, advancing on the Destroyer with Faex, Ofutu, and Seth warships. They opened fire, launching bombs, firing projectiles endlessly with little effect. A few ion cannons lanced out, barely scratching the surface. Silver beams radiated outwards, destroying frigate after frigate.
“Junan?” he called.
“I am here. I have noticed. It will be stopped.”
“But surely you can’t-“
As the Destroyer swung to face the Telana, its ion cannons died down. The Battleship, carried by inertia, overshot its mark, rapidly spinning. In front of the Telana, a black Hiigaran ship, not too unlike Sannel’s ship, decloaked and fired. The Telana and other joined their fire.
“I am beginning to believe you have started underestimating me,” Junan said. “Has some of the unpleasantness from previous travels made you think I was powerless?”
“Well – but a whole Destroyer – Actually, yes.”
From the sides, the winged sailships of the Tik closed in on the disabled warship, latching on and reeling themselves in. A dozen of them locked on, boarding their defenseless prey. Junan’s ship disappeared, and the Telana turned elsewhere.
“Don’t worry, though – I don’t doubt your mysteriousness,” Kaltar added into the silence.

Assaulted by a quartet of Frigates, a T-Mat Mothership focused its attention on the targets with its weapons as nearby Megaships picked off swarming Fighters. The Mothership drew closer, digging into the Frigates with its main cannons. Black scorches grew out along the Frigates, but still the silver weapons hit the immense ship. The T-Mat sent a nearby Megaship closer, closer, until it rammed the Frigates, which exploded with contact. Gaping wounds lined the fore of the grey and orange ship.
But twenty k’loms away, a fellow Unbound ship, a Bentusi Tradeship, was assaulted by a Destroyer. A hunk of the near side was missing, the golden skin turned jet black in places. It was dying, the yellow ion cannons fluctuating. It was on a direct course for the Destroyer.
The Mothership slowly approached, blazing with brilliant blue ion cannons. The Destroyer turned; fired its main cannon, the gravitational waves disrupting an arm of the Mothership, snapping it off. The Mothership drew closer, digging a hole into its side, cutting through layers of armor, exposing its inside.
The Tradeship slammed into it, the fires of the explosion freely filling the Destroyer. Large chunks of both ships were flung outwards as the Destroyer was consumed from the inside out. The Bentusi’s sacrifice was not in vain.
The T-Mat briefly pain respects, then moved on. A particle beam from H’quran defense satellites slashed into the Mothership and a Battleship loomed ahead. There was no time for grief.

Five hundred thousand kilometers away from H’qura, far outside the orbit of its sole moon, Sannel drifted motionless with the Whispering Ones. Silently, wordlessly, they watched, invisible as the fleets battled one another. With her enhanced senses, Sannel could see the ships, the light, felt the pain.
You must not interfere, the Whispering Ones interfered.
She was thinking about it again. The fantasies of blazing into the battle, crushing the B’qula fleet out of existence, and then reaching down into H’qura, closing her hands of gravity around it. But she must not. The light of the battle was not her place. She was not a murderer. She didn’t want to kill.
You could do it, Outside said. The desire ran up along Sannel, a cold thrill. It took everything she had to force it back. She reached inwards, releasing the desire, stimulating the necessary nerves. The pain overwhelmed the desire, overwhelmed everything, making her mind a clean slate. A fraction of a second was sufficient. Sannel stopped, chastened.
You must not, the Whispering Ones repeated. We cannot expose ourselves. They too had the power, but they didn’t act on it. Sannel imagined her skin blushing, ashamed.
If you did it, would you be able to stop once you began? added Outside.
…There is another way, she told herself. Outside.
You are unstable, Outside said.
I know. But I am ready.
You are bright, reflection of the Bright One. But you must be willing. You will have to bear us.
I am willing, Sannel replied. I have nowhere else to go…and I am already carrying you.
Discipline, Outside said.
I am disciplined. Sannel pulled the blanket around her, smothering her body with the painful sensation of it pressing into her scars. …I am holding back. I want to go Outside.
Soon. Outside retreated, working inside her. Sannel shifted her attention the Whispering Ones. After I am gone…how do I know the B’qula will stop? They might not listen to me, or care whether Outside is restored.
They remained silent.
You can disorient them, Sannel said. You have done it before, and you have done it to me. While I am Outside, you can temper their will – as you silenced them before.
You ask for interference, child-mind.
I know. But this means much to me. Please. It is the only thing I ask of you.
No.
Please.
No.
Anger built up. I am warning you. I know you eventually think you will outgrow this universe. You want to go Outside, but you never found it safe. But I need not let you pass after I take its place. When they didn’t answer, Sannel reached out, gripping the Whispering Ones with her hands of gravity. I am warning you. Her grip tightened, as if to crush them. Do not forget what I am.
Outside stirred, frustrated. You claimed to be holding back. Sannel released her grip.
We will allow it, child-mind.
Thank you. Sannel retreated, holding herself, burying her face in hands. Soon, she said. Soon.

Here, a Taiidan cruiser battled with a B’qula Frigate. There, B’qula Fighters tore through a Frrern destroyer. A group of Ilaoulauou fighters streamed down towards H’qura, targeting mines and cruise missiles launched from defense satellites. B’qula Fighters darted to X’n warships, slicing, scathing.
A Battleship approached the main armada pushing its way towards the Retribution. A line of Hiigaran carriers, which had been defending the planet-destroyer, approached, besetting it with siege cannon fire. As the globes of plasma rushed into them, the Battleship and its escorts fired their main cannons, the carriers shattering along the beams of rippling gravity and bent light. Three Taiidan dreadnoughts approached from planetside, targeting the weapon systems of the Battleship. Destroyers and Frigates broke off, pursuing the Taiidan ships. One dreadnought explode d, two.
Claws of fighters engaged the capital ships, guarded by walls of corvettes. A Chig’zigalda frigate, a pair of Reln destroyers, a