Naggarok's Children

[The Reflection]

In between the large assignments of this senior year in high school, I managed to get chapter 7 done. So, now it's round 4 for NC...

For those of you who are new to the story, I suggest you read Outside first, either at Kiith Iopia or at Homeworld Universe. Purists can read the original thread for Outside at the Relic Board Archives, as well as the original thread for Naggarok's Children (No, I haven't found the April/May 2001 thread; The last thread should be up with the others soon).

Now for the obligatory introduction -
Outside is gone.
The dust over the battle over Outside has long since settled. Over the millenia, the Council has become stronger, the central ruling body of Galaxy. And a Bentusi prediction has come true - the Hiigarans are now at the center of the Council, their fleets gliding among the Galaxy serenely. The Galaxy has been in an unprecedented period of peace and prosperity.
But decisions always have consequences.
The ancestors, the Naggarok launchers have tracked down the slayers of Outside. And now the Hiigarans, the Council, the children of the Naggarokers must face their powerful ancestors who wreak destruction on galactic scales.
Naggarok's Children is their story.
And now, I present the second great epic of the Outside universe: Naggarok's Children.
And so it begins...(for the fourth time...) again...

Chapter listing
IT'S DONE!
Page 1
(I'm really beginning to question if page numbers are necessary, given how frequently the Boards crash...)
Prologue - Despair
01 - Falling Stars
02 - K'Basal
03 - Souls of the Lost
04 - Latal
05 - Wandering Through the Night
06 - Guardians of the Line
07 - Games at the Edge of the Inferno
08 - Globular Cluster 079
09 - Requiem for Innocence
10 - Kaaltow
11 - Faith
12 - The Great Convening
13 - Kt'tik'kar
14 - The Tyranny of Heaven
Page 2
(At last, the page number has proves useful!)
15 - Song of Sannel
16 - Darkened World, Darkened Hearts
17 - Storms on the Brink
18 - One
19 - Radiants of Fire and Night
20 - Whispering Ones
21 - On the Path Under the Shadow
Page 3
22 - H'qura
23 - Outside
24 - The Mandate
Epilogue - Hope

Extras
"Prelude to the Song of Sannel"
"Nilsa" (page 3) - parts 1, 2

[The Reflection]

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]

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]

Outside Cover Contest! Outside Cover Contest!

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]

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]

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

[dzurlord]

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

[Xellos]

Heeheehee!!!

I love these guys!

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.

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]

I bet none of you were expecting an update this fast!
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]

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]

Phew!

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

[Xellos]

It's kind of amusing...

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.

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"

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]

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...]

[Ben Tusi]

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]

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]

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]

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]

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

[MissingSea]

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

[The Reflection]

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]

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]

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

[Xellos]

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 as well as maybe a 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.

[cenpjas]

MORE!!!!

[Edric O]

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. 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

[The Reflection]

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]

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]

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!

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

[dzurlord]

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

Yes you really do need to do that!!

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

[Don Armageddon]

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]

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]

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]

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]

Awesome chapter!

Btw small typo @ Kaltar enter the bridge

The previous sannel chapter I just found difficult to read.

[cenpjas]

I agree with the above,

in particular, WOW good stuff.

I am now dieing to read the next bit

-cen

[dzurlord]

It's been 2 weeks:ninja:

[cenpjas]

:angel: GIVE YOUR EVIL BOARDERS MORE :angel:

-cen

[The Reflection]

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]

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]

:jaw: :nod: dang smiley limit =\

[Xellos]

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.

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!

[Mr-e-Man]

*grin*

Is that really Xellos? Yay!

*smile*

[Ben Tusi]

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]

*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]

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]

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]

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]

11 chapters+epilouge=5-6 months =[

I can wait though

Great read as always

[The Reflection]

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]

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.
“[I]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?
“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. “[I]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.
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.