Securing A Future (FT; Semi-Open; ATTN: Gamma Quadrant)

[Rethan]

TG me with your intentions, this is a diplomatic thread primarily aimed at denizens of Gamma as per this map. Note that map is outdated, so only pay attention to the location of the Quadrants relevant to...I dunno, Sol I guess. If you're not in Gamma but are still interested, give me a TG stating why you want in and what you're looking for. I'll let you know if it's in-character for the Pathogen to not shoot you out of the sky when you arrive.

Location: Gamma Quadrant, Approximately 1,200 Light Years from Galactic Rim

An isolated planet hurtles through space, ejected from its master star and alone. It was perfect. Entire sectors away from the Pathogen's main base of operations, the planet had been claimed by the virus. With the frozen, inhospitable surface and its isolation from any form of civilisation, it was the perfect place for the Pathogen to arrange a meeting. So far from all forms of civilisation, with not so much as another system for light years in any direction, the lonely dwarf planet offered the perfect vantage point for its new masters. No ship could approach without being detected, swarms of Relayships moving unseen at faster than light speeds all around it and extending the senses of the great Cancer towards every dimension and plane of existence. Nothing would disturb the Pathogen, nor its guests.

Otherwise featureless, the tiny dwarf planet played host to a single artificial structure so simple in its design. Like a web, the building spiralled across the planet's surface, dotted with openings of various sizes designed to accept spacecraft of all shapes and sizes. At it's centre, burrowing deep into the planet, was the main complex of the station. Several levels of spartan design, each with a portal of folded, broken space as their sole entry point. There were no decorations, no amenities, and no food provided. Not even any furniture. Only a single dais at the head of each room, furthest from the unnatural entryways upon which stood a single Avatar encased in its docking station. The Avatars were all featureless humanoid shapes made of a material so dark in hue it seemed to absorb the light around it. The structure extended deep into the crust and all throughout the planet, a web of sensors and rooms as vast as the world it had all but hollowed out.

Beyond the simple structure, the planet seemed deserted and unguarded. However, following the planet in its high velocity journey crept a single Grigori. At a range of two light months from the planet, Sammael kept watch through the sensor grid of the structure and the Relayships. Moving at several thousand times the speed of light in a patrol path around the planet, It was in charge of security of the station. While the building could defend itself, Sammael was tasked with defending the planet from any fleets which might catch wind of the meeting arrangements and try to disrupt negotiations. It would be simple enough. Even at faster than light velocities, the Godship could leave nanoscale black holes in its wake with little trouble. It cared not for the politics of survival, only the single minded instinct it had been reprogrammed with.

The stage was set, and ready at last the Pathogen flexed its cognitive processes and a tear ripped through the fabric of reality, leaving a cascading ripple directed and carefully controlled as its ripped the universe asunder with its message. It would manifest as vibrations in the air, a cold choir thousands in number which spoke from nowhere. A static laced transmission with no apparent source. All would carry the simple message, and a location to attend.

For the first time in far too long, the Pathogen was willing to speak.

---

You are summoned.

[New Azura]

In the Hostile Presence
The Great Redoubt of Sath-Mor in Jara, Ratah
The Kodona-Yivinn System, Gamma Quadrant
25th Cycle of the Nartun in the Year 4012^AEC

---

The foul, rancid odor of the young Raanan was mixing with the sulfur dioxide creeping up from the vents in the floor of the cavernous holding chamber. Tureth could hardly take a breath in the little creature's presence, finding it necessary to gulp deep breaths of air every few minutes away from his trembling figure before returning to his vigil. The youngling was thought to be the youngest remaining survivor of the Raanan Star Empire, and was as such a pricey commodity in the open market. Though it was highly improbable that the merchants would attempt to requisition his hide for sale in the bazaar, the Council of Sath-Mor had dictated a cautious approach nonetheless.

How foolishly paranoid we have become, toying with the faculties of the damned...

Tureth raised a hand towards the youngling's face, bringing down his talons across the little boy's cheek with a fervent strike. His silky smooth, porcelain-like skin offered no resistance, and thick streaks of bloody indentations ripped through the soft tissue with relative ease. The boy recoiled in abject fear, slamming hard against the burning rock floor with his hands clutched to his face. He crawled on the scorching black rock as far as his chains would allow them, tugging violently against them in a futile attempt to be loosed from his captivity. All the while, Tureth watched as the youngling kept his eyes firmly fixed on his teeth and lipless face, sickened and morose by the mere thought of them cutting into his flesh...

"The Raanan never could get over our jawline," Tureth said without emotion as he quietly walked towards the cowering youngling. "I could not begin to understand why you fear that which is different. Had your people left well enough alone, you could have found yourselves a valuable ally. Instead, you decided to start something so grievous, you could not bear to finish it."

Tureth slowly knelt down beside the outstretched chain, curiously studying the young creature. The Raanan Star Empire had effectively collapsed more than six hundred years after its capitulation to the Nicylene Combine. The Raanan species as a whole had generally been purged; their meat tasted as badly as they smelled, and dining on them was a delicacy very few had a palate for, making their continued existence quite obsolete to the greater design. Tureth had only seen four Raanan in his entire life, and none were alive by the time he had managed to make an acquaintance with them. The subject of his vestigial hatred was much less interesting than he had hoped, thus creating a burning desire inside of him to slash the little one and be done with it.

Mesmerized and perpetually bored all at once, Tureth forcefully took hold of the cowering boy's hand, prying open a closed fist to grasp an outstretched digit. "See here," he said plainly, extending the young child's finger towards his teeth. "They are smooth to the touch, not even a little bit rough. You shouldn't fear me for the way they look—only what they can do."

With little warning, Tureth casually opened his mouth, pulling the boy's finger inside. With a forceful bite, he neatly severed the child's digit in a huff, causing the youngling to scream in bitter agony. Tureth removed the severed finger from his top row of teeth, peeling the nail away before slowly making a snack of it. It had the raw taste of that pasty fish creature from Ciarra Vaalis, only without the overt juiciness. The youngling cupped his hand in agony, twisting violently in his reckless attempt to pull free from his chains. Tureth could only watch in perplexity at his amusing antics, wondering if his ancestors had taken the same type of pleasure in watching the genocidal butchers squirm in their chains...

"Why the long face, child? You should have been preparing yourself for this."

The plodding, methodical footsteps echoing outside the holding chamber spoiled the moment. Thick tears began welling up in the youngling's eyes as the heavy stone was rolled back from the cell. Tureth slowly rose, spitting on the child as he turned back towards the entrance. The dim light quickly gave way to the brightly lit corridor outside, as his brother Angath stepped inside. Tureth nodded succinctly as a pair of Pa'yorans followed, along with Councilor Voeigh. He had always had an admiration for the Pa'yorans; born of blood into the new way of things, unhindered by the ancient days of peace in a galaxy that wasn't out to murder them in their homes. They were a welcome asset in the new Nicylene Hegemony.

Councilor Voeigh was holding a red scroll, indicating he'd been in the Progenitor's presence recently. He looked mildly annoyed at Tureth for having caused such a loud racket in the cell. "Could you please take care of the youngling? I have some important business to tend to down here."

"Yes, Councilor," Tureth replied, bending over towards the youngling. He pried his mouth open by digging his talons into the side of his cheek, using his free hand to grasp the fleshy tongue inside his mouth. With a firm rip, the fleshy tissue ripped away neatly, causing the screaming to begin a dull, wheezing whine. "Is that better, Councilor?"

"Yes, thank you," Voeigh nodded. "I only hope that your time here was worth the price you paid. I could have thought of better ways to use your pay than to see a Raanan youngling up close."

Tureth shook his head as Angath spoke up. "Tureth never got the privilege to see a live Raanan, Councilor. He wanted this opportunity to see the 'mythical' enemy before they go extinct."

Voreigh sighed. "I suppose so. The sooner they're exterminated, the better. I cannot stomach the smell of them, personally. They ooze a certain secretion when they're nervous, and it makes the stomach roll with revulsion."

The younger of the two Pa'yorans interjected; "I actually developed quite a taste for them, actually. Would you oblige me the privilege of trying him? It costs an arm and a leg at the bazaar these days, and I was thinking of cutting back anyhow."

Tureth nodded, stepping to the side an extending his hand towards the convulsing youngling. He watched as the Pa'yoran stepped past briskly, kneeling down beside the child. He took a finger and wiped at a tear that was cresting down the side of his cheek. Bringing the salty substance to his tongue, the Pa'yoran nearly gagged at the taste. "Oh, no, this wont do," he muttered coldly, taking his talons to the top of the boy's forehead. Tureth watched curiously as he neatly severed the top epidermal layer of the youngling's face, peeling the skin back crudely. The convulsions became outright spasms as the youngling felt a pain he had never before experienced. Voreigh sighed in bewilderment.

"Anyways, I needed to speak to you about your recent proposal to explore beyond the Da'quan Sector, Tureth. A situation has been brought before the Progeny's attention, and Xaszan believes it is worth our attention."

Tureth brightened up at that, losing interest in the squirming Raanan for a second. "That's wonderful news, Councilor. Though might I ask, what sort of situation has come up?"

"It's kind of unique, actually," the older Pa'yoran said quietly. "I was a bit stunned when I heard the transmission myself."

"What transmission?"

Voreigh shook his head apologetically. "Our flagship near the Da'quan picked up a transmission several dak'tori away; it was faint, but it was legible—YOU ARE SUMMONED. We believe it to be from a very dangerous species known to the other Kodana-Yivinni civilizations as the 'Rethast', though we are working to confirm this. Xaszan believes we should investigate the summons, and has decided that your curiosity of the nature of things beyond our borders would serve well on such an expedition."

"A possible threat?" Tureth exclaimed. The younger Pa'yoran took a break from tasting the ocular muscles for a moment, correcting him.

"Not likely. The Rethast are a dangerous group, but their transmission wasn't overtly hostile, It was almost like an invitation to join them. For what, we aren't really sure."

The older Pa'yoran nodded. "We contemplated the notion that we received the transmission by mistake, but this doesn't seem probable. The coding on the message was too perfect... too deliberate. If it is a message from the Rethast, then they meant for a lot of civilizations to hear it."

"Which is why we need to send an envoy immediately," Voreigh added. "If the vaunted Rethast are indeed sending out a summons, the Nicylene Combine needs to be represented there. We may yet have found a paradigm with which to begin extending our sphere of influence without having to harvest every lowly creature we come across."

Tureth shrugged. "Do you think the Rethast would even be willing to serve as such a paradigm? What if the overtures here are a trap, and they are baiting races into a bloodbath?"

"Xaszan deemed it worth the risk. Still, that's why he's sending you along with Angath and two of our most promising young officers, X'ia here and his younger sibling K'roth over there."

The older Pa'yoran, X'ia spoke up. "The Rethast may indeed prove to be a grave threat that must be confronted. Yet the specter of finding an ally amongst the stars who share our trepidations and our common enemies. The bounty to be harvested from such a partnership far surpasses the harvest we can reap from our own home system."

Tureth grumbled, turning back towards the younger Pa'yoran K'roth. The youngling was barely clinging to life; his spasms turning to barely-noticeable twitches. "Would you save me a leg please? When you're done with him, throw him into the vent there?"

K'roth nodded, callously ripping away thick chunks of meat from the boy's leg before stuffing him into the nearest thermal vent. Billowing smoke rose up as the remnants of the dying child's flesh began to cook. The gargling pants of the youngling gave way to the crackling, smoldering sound of burning flesh as he finally expired. Tureth turned to Angath, shaking his head.

"What do you think, brother?"

"I say we go," Angath casually replied. "Why should we fear another war?"

Tureth shrugged in agreement. "Indeed."

The Councilor beamed. "Then it's settled. The Paragon has been requisitioned for the journey. After we build up our supplies for the trip, we'll get under way." Voreigh began to backpedal, motioning towards X'ia. "I'll let you all get to know one another for a few hours before we depart. A lot is riding on this."

Voreigh sauntered out of the room before Tureth could answer. X'ia looked back towards the departing Councilor as K'roth and Angath came to stand beside Tureth. "That's a lot to do in just a few short hours."

"It certainly is," Tureth sighed. "It certainly is."

---

[Sertian]

She always felt like she was intruding whenever she stepped into his office. It always felt like she was walking into his mind, stripping away the shroud that concealed his desires from her and everyone else, allowing her to play and move with his thoughts whenever she touched or moved anything. She wasn't entirely sure if this was a fact of his race, or because of his position. She surmised it might have been some combination of both as she stepped through the door and into the room beyond.

Once again she was greeted with the illumination of holographic light, the only thing that banished the shadows within. In usual fashion she lingered at the entrance as the door slid behind her, giving her eyes time to adjust to the lower light. Except this time she was greeted with the soft adjustment of holographic projectors illuminating the room, quickly bringing it up to the usual light she was accustomed to within the rest of the facility. The change brought her pause, prompting her gaze to cast towards the center of the room where she expected to see the Emperor busy plotting and planning the move of hundreds of ships across the galactic map which hovered about the room – but instead she saw him sitting at the plane desk at the center of the room, the massive galaxy hologram replaced by a much narrower view only a few thousand light years in size. The small cloud of stars and gas broken by the pin pricks of bright gold light that crept along its image – representations of Imperial Warships. However, also marring the image where the splotches and dots of black and red which crawled and slithered, occasionally flickering into being as some drone detected and then lost sight of the moving menace. In recent years she had grown more accustomed to those inky splotches than she would have liked to known.

“I assume you know,” she spoke, walking calmly to the seat placed opposite of the man; his features had grown pale underneath the electronic light, while those black-iris eyes flickered there attention away from the hologram for a brief second to look over her, before returning to the display.

“Curious. We knew the Pathogen was capable of some form of communication, at least on an individual basis. But never have they actually communicated on an interstellar level outside of their own kind... As far as we know,” he returned. His eyes focused on a particular splotch on the field of stars, prompting the hologram to suddenly zoom towards it until a field had become individual pin-pricks, and then further until those dots of nuclear fire zipped out of the borders and a single, lonely planet was left bare.

“And nothing of this nature, either,” she replied, her own eyes glancing towards the rogue planetoid. “It could be a trap, lure interstellar species to the location and announce their presence for the pathogen to consume them.”

“It could. All the more reason we should go to find out,” he rejected the concern, finally prying his eyes away from the hologram to stare at her. The pale, almost ghostly skin of his cheeks turning into a smile as he finally admired her since she first entered the room. “I assume you already figured that out, however. Have you thought of who to send?”

Her lips twitched towards a grimace, no doubt caught by the man although he didn't show it in his features. “Perhaps. There is... One commander in my fleet who has engaged the Pathogen more than anyone else, he's got a feel for them that might rival even your own intuition, Emperor. Only...”

“High Captain Alexander Demosc of Felax I, recently promoted to Low Admiral with high honors due to your recommendation after his last engagement with the Pathogen forces – resulting in the first deployment of a Zero-Point core warhead in combat,” he jumped ahead, bringing another grimace to her face. “Transferred to non-field post at his request. Do you think he's not up to it?”

The selac gave a sigh, leaning forward to relieve some of the composure she had forced herself to bare while wandering the halls. “He's been cleared and fit for duty, and I'm confident he can do his duty... However, the events may impair his judgment if the Pathogen is seeking to renew their offer of... friendship.”

The man nodded a few times, considering his words as he glanced back up to the map. The image of the lone planetoid skirting off to the edge while the galaxy map returned, zipping to the location of the familiar worlds of the Babylon Commonwealth. “We do seem to have a... symbiotic relationship,” the Emperor mumbled darkly. “More than a few worlds have come to us for protection from the Pathogen. I suppose they're partially responsible for how rapidly the Empire is increasing in influence in the galaxy...”

He paused again, considering her words. “I'll leave the ultimate answer up to you, you know your people best, Zeph. We don't know the situation, however, so we have to prepare for anything. I'm clearing the use of a cruiser from your fleet under the command of whoever you think best, and it'll be staffed with a military diplomat in case its called for. Make sure they pick up some remote camera globes and drones, to make diplomatic contact as well.”

A cruiser, she thought. Slower than the Radiants, but possessing more sensors if need be. It could handle its own in a fight as well, but a full Pathogen fleet might be too much for it... Then again, it would stand a decent shot of retreating before its shields or hull could be pierced. “Any particular orders you want me to pass along, Trill?”

“...If the Pathogen wishes to open a dialogue, I want them to indulge them,” he spoke after a few moments, letting the words filter through his head before speaking. “Every advantage we can gain over this plague is in our interests, and they may have just given us another way to gain it.”

“Understood,” she replied with a nod, standing and giving the man a soft smile, one he returned before diverting his attention reluctantly towards the galactic map that hovered above his desk. The lights slowly dimmed back to their usual level as she walked out – leaving him alone with the constant flow of intelligence that flowed into that computer from every drone, satellite, ship, and agents that were pledged to his service. “Try to get out of the room more, Trill. Your soldiers might appreciate seeing their leader with a tan instead of looking like a specter.”

“I'll see when the ambitions of a thousand leaders and their millions of subordinates allows me too,” he cracked back with a smile, watching as she left the room. The smile slowly faded from his mouth, however, as his eyes turned from the holographic map just as it zipped off to the side, replaced instead with a window opening before his desk. He would have to make some arrangements personally for this assignment – there was too much to gain to do otherwise.

[EternalNight]

Akhenphire
Beta Quadrant

The first campaign was a success my friend. Nathrael resonated to the three faces of the paintings that were Ermeriel's manifestation. He gestured and a pulsing sphere of black energy, beating almost as is a living heart, was transferred from him to the equally macabre being he faced. And now for the second campaign, we shall... Suddenly Nathrael stopped as he felt another familiar resonance, that of the Pathogen.

Hmmm... things get more interesting my friend. It seems I must handle two matters... before resonating to the Spectral Talon. Squadron Leader Methra, you will be in tactical command of the next phase of our operations. I must go and deal with our other friends. I trust you and Ermeriel will be able to coordinate this well. I will rejoin you at the earliest time. Onboard Spectral Talon, Methra simply bowed and said "At your Command, Fleet Leader," After Nathrael broke contact he whispered "I get to deal with Ermeriel...How lovely."

Shortly thereafter, Nathrael's Harvester Ship shimmered and faded as it moved out of the Akhenphire system.

The Void Between Universes

Another Harvester Ship hunted among the stars. Accompanied by 20 other vessels. The Battlecarrier Ebon Wraith, and assortment of other warships of myriad origins, two immense transport vessels... and a lone Rethast Relayship. The Relayship picked up the call sent out by it's brothers, and responded with a resonance of sorts uniquely it's own. Only one other being in the fleet heard/felt that resonance, and responded with one of it's own, sent to all the ships of the fleet. As I have just heard...We are summoned. We all know how that worked on our recent home...With a malevolent laugh, the fleet shifted course and dimensional vibratory patterns. Phasing into reality close to the source of the call.

Harvester leading, the fleet moved towards the rogue world that was the source of the Pathogen's resonance, The Relayship flew in formation just off the Harvester's port side. The Fleet's sensors and the senses of the ship's master then picked up a distortion in the D-Branes as Nathrael's vessel arrived a scant few light seconds away. The two vessels instantly noticed each other.

Nathrael was puzzled. He recognized the 'feel' of the other vessel, but the color was all wrong for a Harvester Ship-It glowed like a hot coal, black and amber, and the sheer power radiating from the vessel was staggering. Not quite to the First Triune's level but close... very very close. He sent a resonance to the other ship. Unknown Harvester Ship, this is IMS Nathrael, Imperial Mu Star Navy. What is your identification? Almost instantly a reply was sent. IMS Nathrael, this is IMS El'Niath-L'Eral, My flagship and Bondship. You speak to El'Niath-L'Eral, Herald of Adraniel. I bring new supplies of energy to restore my Master.

Nathrael pulled his mental and spiritual shielding in close as a chill suffused his essence. El'Niath-L'Eral... the Forgotten Herald. Oh this is a fucking nightmare. How do I tell him that Adraniel is back, and is an utter Mol... Quickly breaking off that line of thought, Nathrael continued his reverie. Then again, that ship resonates with more malice... and power, then I and Ermeriel could manage in a duet, Interesting...this bears more investigation... very careful investigation.

Like all in Eternal Night, Nathrael knew of the history of El'Niath-L'Eral. Other then the other members of the First Triune, he had been affected most by Adraniel's "banishment". Some said beyond even that which could be expected by his status as Adraniel's Herald. He had become the greatest proponent of trying to bring him back, and indeed had renewed hope in Midnight and Enrial, who had considered him lost forever.

El'Niath-L'Eral was a brilliant physician and scientist, and worked diligently on improving the medical technology used to restore, absorb, and regenerate life energy that he had created as the cutting edge in Mu medicine. He developed the Harvester Ship, the Night Ray, and other devices. More importantly he developed the genetic augmentation that enabled the people of Eternal Night to personally drain life energy, and thus changed the people of Mu forever. If the First Triune led the Mu on their Path, El'Niath-L'Eral built the road they now traveled on.

Nathrael's Harvester assumed formation just behind El'Niath-L'Eral's, as befitting the latter's position of Herald. As they both made their way towards the planet Nathrael was filled with a little sense of disquiet. His Lifesight had picked up some odd signs from the other ships in the Herald's fleet. Most notably the two massive transports. They looked like converted super-freighters of some sort, but something about their cargo. It was not stored life energy...precisely. I am getting the feeling I must tread very carefully here... Nathrael thought to himself, his shields at full intensity. El'Niath-L'Eral had been mourned when Ebon Wraith had disappeared after a D-Shift the fleet had made after the exodus from Mu after the Judgment War. And the people regretted his loss.

Much later, they learned to be grateful for it.

Led by the two Harvesters and the Relayship, the squadron moved in towards the planet. Nathrael and El'Niath-L'Eral resonating almost in unison. We are here...

[Sertian]

Gamma Quadrant

The Imperial ship hovered just outside of normal space, aligning itself parallel to our space's dimensions yet remaining displaced by a handful of meters, allowing it to more in a slower, tighter orbit around the rogue planetoid than the massive Pathogen ship in distant patrol. Its engines briefly flared every few minutes, producing just enough thrust to counteract the gravitational pull of the planet slowly pulling it back into normal space. And yet, to anyone that didn't have the capacity to peer into the higher dimensional planes the Empire had taken to with glee, all of this would have been lost to their vision – save for the small, almost undetectable gravitational shadow of a several hundred meter long cruiser lurking nearby.

What came next was much more obvious to those lurking around the planet, however. From out of the Non-Euclidean space that the vessel lurked a ship revealed itself, its form twisting and contorting as its geometry aligned with those of our universe. The vessel, which at best could be called some type of glorified shuttle, started to ignite its engines, starting to slowly bleed off the extraordinary speed it had entered the area with. Objects fastened to the vessel's hull taking the opportunity to suddenly crack and splinter from their mother, pushing off from the vessel with an unseen force as their sensitive arrays begin to unfold – pointing out into nearby space to observe for the great ship lingering nearby.

The shuttle, meanwhile, waited quietly for a message as a bright blue cloud of its engine's exhaust flared out in front of it.

---

The Admiral frowned as he examined the holographic image in front of him, showing the three dimensional representation of the crystalline ships in front of him. The slow rotation interspersed with a variety of data points flickering in and out, doing their best to represent the extra-dimensional nature of the vessel to his eyes. This... Was definitely not what he expected, as his eyes flowed over to more data points flickering onto his image – supplied by one of his officers who had matched everything they had managed to collect about the ships. None of it was conclusive, a virtual modern ghost story came to life. All it gave him was a single name. And beneath that name, new, crisp script filtered in as variety of drones, and the S.I.V. Saronite's own sensors – a fresh surprise as they peered at the vessels from an outside perspective.

“Are they here?” a voice briefly disturbed him from his glance, prompting him to peer besides the myriad of holograms surrounding him to see the small creature. He stood no more than four or five feet tall, covered in smooth, tan scales that covered his benign features. He was the ambassador that the Emperor, in his good graces, decided to saddle on his ship.

“We've detected one Pathogen vessel, unknown class in far orbit of the planetoid, moving at several times the speed of light, completing each orbit in about a day,” he replied, idly returning his information back to the holographic image of the Godship which had, until that point in time, been shoved off to the side as those sensors roamed over the unknown vessels; although the crisp lines of new data still slowly filled in the data points with everything the few drones relegated to observing it could detect through the ship's distance and velocity. “That is, however, chiefly my concern. I thought you'd be more interested in the unknowns we've discovered.”

“A single group, if I read the information right,” the reptile's eyes briefly flickered closed before looking towards the same crystalline ships which had occupied the Admiral's attention. “It seems like we've finally stumbled across another civilization that has figured out our trick and ran with it. It doesn't look like we have much on them, however. Until now we didn't even know they possessed any form of Dimensional Technology.”

“Indeed,” the Admiral spoke before waving the hologram to the side, signaling a change in discussion. “Regardless, I suggest you clear the C.I.C., Ambassador. The Briefing Room has been set aside for your use for any diplomatic talks that may be required, and it'll take some time before the shuttle decelerates to enter orbit of the planetoid. Any communication detected from these Eternal Night, or... Pathogen ships will be forwarded to your computer – and my communications officer is at your disposal. Is there anything else you require?”

“No, that'll be fine Admiral,” the lizard creature responded as he took his turn to leave the Sertian to his holograms or ship. “All I inquire is that you keep me advised on your intentions and actions, here. The mouth cannot talk while the hand is trying to stab, after all.”

“A feed will be patched into your computer. Now, if you'll excuse me, Ambassador, there's a very real possibility that these crystalline ships could strike at us in Non-Euclidean space, and I want to make absolutely sure we'll be ready if they try.”

“Of course, Admiral. I'll leave you to your duties,” the small reptilian replied, once again, with a smile, before leaving the room – allowing the Low Admiral to return to his holograms. This time his attention wavered towards the Pathogen vessel, his eyes ever so subtly scowling at the ship.

[New Azura]

A Virulent Rendezvous
Aboard the Nicylene Capital Vessel Paragon
Twelve Dak'tin from Ratah, Gamma Quadrant
30th Cycle of the Nartun in the Year 4012^AEC

---

When the extraneous ambiance of civilization was ripped away from every sensory perception, a lost and wandering soul could fully comprehend how fleetingly insignificant the frivolities of society truly were. Tureth was not one to mull over philosophical musings often, yet the utter silence in the dark chasm—the infinite void of the Gamma Quadrant's foreboding recesses providing an almost-apropos aesthetic which lent itself towards exploring the nature of one's reality. There was so much to do, and so many places that the Nicyl would have to investigate once their rendezvous with the hitherto-unknown entity known as the Rethast was brought to a (hopefully) promising conclusion.

The Paragon was approximately twelve dak'tin from their capital world Ratah in the Kodona-Yivinn System; to date, the furthest any Nicylene had traveled into the Gamma Quadrant in the known history of their culture by quite a substantial amount. Such a momentous occasion was a testament to the growing hegemony the Nicyl had wrought in the Kodona-Yivinn, to be sure. Yet the the outer reaches of Nicylene influence were far behind the uncharted progress of the Paragon. Though no Nicylene warrior would ever dare admit such a paradigm, there was enough uncertainty lingering in the void of the Gamma Quadrant's forlorn realms to prompt a general sense of unease amongst the travelers on-board. Tureth's guard was tentatively, uneasily up for any hostile threat that might present itself without warning.

If only things could be simple again, Tureth thought with melancholy abandonment. There was a certain comfortableness within the Nicylene Hegemony in the Kodona-Yivinn System; a familiarity that bred undue confidence and nigh-hubris whenever the little children decided to disobey their masters. Yet moving out into the uncharted regions of the Gamma Quadrant was a brand new challenge all unto itself—there was no fear of the Nicyl... not yet, at least. Whatever standard of importance the Nicyl sought to create in these cold hinterlands would be cast in the blood of broken bodies, just like the old days. It was a distressing, foreboding sensibility that at once heightened the rage and the adrenaline inside Tureth. I would rather die than go slinking quietly back home...

Tureth was certainly a more cautious, calculating individual than most of his kind, or any of the Pa'yorans for that matter. He was not intrinsically set upon looking for a fight, even though his blood boiled for the thrill and the prodigious glory of victory. Engaging a vast, unknown quantity in combat was not exactly the most thoughtful way to expand the influence of the Hegemony to be sure, and without proper reconnaissance on the various threats lingering in the Gamma Quadrant, going in blind to a large military operation was recklessly wasteful and unnecessary at the current time. One could only imagine the devastation wrought upon potentially valuable resource planets by an ill-fated invasion attempt that sparks a full-blown, apocalyptic fight to the death with an equally potent race.

A small, dull light began blinking on the command console in front of him, prompting Tureth to observe their updated telemetry report. As it pertained to the Rethast, he was 'cautiously optimistic' about their chances of avoiding some sort of direct confrontation. Though there were some within the higher circles of the Hegemony that preferred a 'shoot first, ask questions later' mentality when it came to external threats beyond Kodona-Yivinn, Xaszan was apt to take a more pragmatic view of the Nicylene Hegemony's interaction with other civilizations. Not all space-faring races would be immediately hostile towards the Nicyl—such was the reasoning that led to the Paragon sailing into the hitherto unknown reaches of the Gamma Quadrant. At the first sign of trouble, though...

I will not hesitate to destroy the foundation of any alliance...

It was a tedious (but necessary) thought, and Tureth had spent quite a few waking moments trying to plot any and all eventualities. A rustling behind him broke that train of thought, as one of his companions began to snake their way towards the co-pilot's chair. The elder Pa'yoran, X'ia was already fumbling with his visor for when a potential rendezvous with the Rethast—or other species within the Gamma Quadrant—would take place. None of them had any way of knowing what the conditions would be like when they arrived at the source of the beacon, and so the Council had urged the expeditionary crew to take 'any and all precautions' in lieu of the normal aggressive, wanton approach to diplomacy. The Nicylene Hegemony simply could not afford to let such a momentous occasion fly by under the old way of doing things.

Tureth nodded inwardly, recognizing the 'new way' in the guise of his companion X'ia. The Pa'yoran finally sat down in a huff, turning towards him with a look of consternation etched into his plain features. "They're all back there resting, if you can believe it. Gorging on that satchel of flesh you bought at the Bazaar put them all out."

"I would think so," Tureth said with a chuckle. "It cost me enough to secure the provisions for our little expedition here. I had to assure Voreigh that we brought along only the best, in case gift-trading was on the docket during this 'rendezvous' we're heading to."

X'ia snarled indignantly. "I'd prefer to trade in blood, if I had my druthers. I'm not one for the standard pleasantries that other insidious cultures insist on bartering in." He licked the back of his teeth, humming: "If there is any justice in this universe, our hosts will be wrought to dispense with the needless pleasantries."

"One can only hope," Tureth nodded in agreement. The Nicylene Hegemony would be more apt to deal 'kindly' with a civilization that was more interested in taking action versus spreading meaningless rhetoric. From their own limited knowledge of the Rethast, such a civilization did exist—the question remained as to whether or not they would welcome an association with 'serpentine demons'. If the Nicyl's history in the Kodona-Yivinn was any indication, a tall order awaited the crew of the Paragon.

A tall, bloody order... Let us hope it does not come to that...

The momentary silence was short enough; X'ia leaned back into the chair, rubbing at his eyes. "What do you hope to accomplish out of this little rendezvous mission, honestly? Do you think that we should even bother trying to find 'allies' this far out?"

"An ally would change our culture in ways you could not possibly imagine," Tureth confided. "Both in positive and negative ways. But if we are to extend beyond the bloody parameters of our current paradigm, then something has to change. Whether the Rethast prove to be a postivie or negative beneficiary of that cultural palingenesis... remains to be seen."

X'ia sighed. "So many possibilities, and so many risks. I haven't been going in so damned blind since the last major engagement on Tarnautus in the Sae'gor Campaign. 'Lest we forget what madness erupted there."

"Well," Tureth shrugged, "I don't suppose we'll have to wait much longer to find out what we came all this way for—according to our best estimate, we should be getting some sort of read on the prime source of the message any time now. And we'll find out soon enough what we came all this way for, my friend."

X'ia looked at him firmly, casting aspersions towards the living quarters. "Should I awaken our companions and have them prepare for the possibility of meeting up with another ship out here? I would hate to be caught unprepared so far away from home."

"Not just yet," Tureth shook his head, resting his hand on the console panel. "We have a little time yet before they need to get moving about. As is, they'll need the extra rest, in case things decide to take a sour turn for the worst, whenever we reach our rendezvous."

X'ia closed his eyes, standing up from the co-pilot's chair. Before he retreated into the passage from which he'd come, he put his hand on Tureth's shoulder, speaking quietly. "For all our sakes, let us hope that 'the worst' never comes to pass."

Tureth nodded in agreement as the Pa'yoran stepped out of earshot. "Let us hope..."

---

[Rethan]

The Congregation

One by one they came, heeding the call of the Pathogen and as they did so the planet's structure coiled and twisted into life. Seemingly from nowhere, grey mists seeped from the ground as the sheets of living metal pulled back into the frozen rock of the planet. Within the newly revealed chambers, the mist was thick where the air was contained and condensed into chilled fogs of ice by the subzero temperatures of the planet. Within the channels of the structure, deep in the crust, air was manufactured and pumped into the chasms, contained by fields of broken space and filling the halls with damp mists as the Pathogen made only the smallest effort to accommodate its guests bringing the temperature of the halls to bare degrees over freezing.

At its great distance, Sammael watched the ships arrive piecemeal, calculating possible combat velocities and threat levels based on what its perverse scans revealed. It marked each approaching ship for the Collect, the planet's sensor grid locking on to each potential target for the Grigori. And for the Ascended One which watched from beyond. The arrival of a Relayship, one which had only the barest connection to the Collect, was not surprising, but rather it was welcomed. With the barest force of intellect, the Collect surged forward and regained control of the small craft, letting its memories and knowledge enrich its own even as Sammael focused once more on the crystalline ships which had come with it. Questions would be asked, but not here.

Once again, space itself reverberated with a signal of no apparent source carrying with it the voice of millions.

ENTER

Three openings in the planet's surface were apparent, one for each guest to enter through. The Pathogen aimed to keep them separate until it was sure none meant harm to another. A cursory scan of what parts of the structure were not buried under entire continents of rock would should no weapons, no energy signatures beyond the fields which contained the atmospheres of the various hallways. If the guests desired extra assurances of the structure's safety and the Pathogen's honest intent, they would have to risk venturing into the subterranean maze itself. The path, while complex, was alive and ever changing. Should the Life send emissaries, the structure would reform itself, ensure they found their way to the correct meeting chamber by sealing off channels and connecting half finished bridges over the cavernous hallways.

Within three of the meeting chambers, the Avatars burned into life, disconnecting from their docks and each moving into an identical stance as their housings melted away into oblivion. Each warped and twisted until they took a form barely recognisable as once-human. Dead white skin and blinded eyes all that was visible outside the ebony and cobalt armour which made up the majority of the diplomatic machineries' constructions.

Patiently, the Pathogen waited.

[The Uthani Imperium]

Gamma Quadrant
Uthani Space
Solidity Complex

Solidity was, to the naked eye, a piece of rock floating endlessly through space without rhyme or rhythm like so many other shards of former planets and moons. But to those who knew what the rock was, it was the center of a mass network, web even, that stretched well beyond Uthani space and into the every corner of the Gamma Quadrant. It was a silent stalker, constantly picking up communications from around the quadrant that varied from marketing advertisements to military transmissions that had been translated by the Uthanium. More so than that it was the home of the Listener, an Uthani of immense spiritual power who often gazed out beyond this realm of existence. Solidity had brought the rumor of the Great and Terrible Rethast, now it was the one to receive the calling.

At first the rift in space that the Rethast had created had brought extreme alarm to the Solidity Complex, the rift being misinterpreted as the arrival of the Ulukar and the comping apocalypse that the prophecies spoke of. Solidity has scrambled to get the word out, emergency transmissions shooting all across the Uthanium raising fleet and armies to go forth against the Ulukar. But they did not come, there was no mass arrival at the edge of Uthani space, no apocalypse, just the same repeating transmission flooding Uthani comms and sensors with a message they had as of yet been unable to translate.

"Tribunus Malen, the Listener has confirmed that the message is not a detection of Ulukar activity, he is attempting to ascertain the origin and meaning of the message." One of the Communications officers that crowded around the semi circular room that served as the center of Solidity called to an Uthani dressed in crisp military attire, ordained with many medals who stood elevated from the rest of the room. "Confirm that sir, the Listener reports that it is a possible transmission from case subject #002." The Communications officer relayed the chatter that came through on his ear bud, grimacing as subject #002 was mentioned. "The Rethast sir, the Listener thinks that it is the Rethast."

The Tribunus, one Zatel Malen scowled as he turned on his heel leaving the room without a word to the communications staff that continued to decipher messages and transmissions even before he had left. Malen fell deep into his thoughts, the rhythmic beating of his boots on the cold steel floor only enhancing his trance as he strutted down hallway after hallway, paying no mind to his surroundings until at last he came to a small vestibule off to the side of one of the endless hallways that wrapped around Solidity. Thrusting himself into the only chair, he began to speak to nothing. "Solidity, patch me through to central, direct commlink to the Imperator, verification code 17834503A."

The sound hung in the air for a moment, and then light from the nothingness, a bright screen appearing and illuminating in front of the Tribunus. On the screen a young Uthani, probably female although Malen couldn't be certain through commlink activated the line. "I'm sorry Tribunus Malen but the Imperator is currently sleeping, if you could call back in a few hours I'm su-"

"No that will not do, wake him now." Malen cut in with a glare as the younger Uthani turned and left the screen for a moment.

"Malen, this had better be good." The Imperator himself stood in front of the screen now, naked, or what passed for naked in Uthani society as he spoke. "The Trade Commission meets on the morrow and if you disturbed my rest for some petty anomaly in the dead zone I swear..."

"Not this time Lord Imperator, the listener has detected messages from the Rethast my lord. They have sent us nothing but a calling and a location. I thought such news would be imperative to the Imperium your grace." Malen bowed his head as he spoke, going as far as dropping on his left knee to appease the Imperator's more acute desire for public obedience. "It appears to be benign, a simple call for gathering to all those within its hearing range."

"A call from the Rethast?" The Imperator gazed on in shock, receiving only the humblest of nods from Malen. "You have my appreciation Tribunus Malen, you may go." The Imperator watched as Malen blinked off the screen, thousands of light-years away in Solidity. "Melina inform the Grand Council that we are to meet on the Solidity complex within the day, and tell the Imperator to begin prepping for departure. We leave as soon as I am packed."

The young Uthani woman simply bowed her head and went about her work.

Solidity Complex

The Imperator came to sudden stop in the hanger bay, levitating for a minute before setting down inside one of Solidity's hanger bays. From her side a gangplank jettisoned out and collided with the steel floor, making a soft thud that was soon accompanied by the metallic smack of metal boots upon metal flooring as the Imperator strutted down the gangplank and set foot onto Solidity's hull. "Greetings honored crew of the Solidity complex, it is a pleasure to greet such diligent and hard working Utani on this momentous day." The Imperator talked to a minuscule crowd of security officers and members of the Grand Council who had themselves just arrived. "Members of the Grand Council we shall proceed to the forum."

The Imperator and the half dozen members of the Grand Council came into tow behind the security crew that led the way through the twists and turns of Solidity. Finally coming to a stop near a small door that led off to the side. "Lord Imperator once you are inside we shall seal the door from inside the forum and commence sweeps of the room. Once all is clear the security team shall depart save myself who shall stand vigilance as the Praetoria of the Forum my lord." Malen made his reappearance, drawing up the helmet of the security armor and tapping on a small interface next to the door." Right this way my lord."

The Imperator and the Councilmen filled into the small room, seating themselves around a circular table that had been set for just an occasion. Behind them the door closed with a thud followed by a series of clicks as Malen locked the entry way and then swept the room with a handheld sensor, nodding the all clear to the Imperator. "We shall begin then, Councilmen of the Uthani Forum, as you all know by now we have received a transmission from the Rethast Pathogen. We are unaware if the transmission was exclusive to us but we have been provided with an invitation of sorts, and a location of which to open discussion with representatives of the Pathogen."

There was a slight murmur among the Councilmen for a moment, before one voice rose up to address the Imperator. "My lord if I may, this is exactly what we have been waiting for, contact from the Dread an opportunity to give praise to the great equalizer and seek brotherhood." The Uthani that spoke was Councilman of the Forum Ivaxia Lumin, a smile breaking out on his face as he continued. "If these Rethast are what we have heard they share more in common with the Uthanium than we think at current."

"Absurd, these Rethast are no better than the Ulukar." This time is was Councilman Gregorius Melan's turn to speak up, matching Lumin's smile with an equal scowl. "They like the unfaithful are nothing but tools of wrath and death, if anything we should shun this notion instantly."

The Imperator stood now, smiling in his own right. "These Rethast, they are not like the Ulukar. They are more like us than anything else we have experienced in this strange new galaxy. Though they use different means our goals appear to be the same, or at the very least appear that way to me. Unity, order, obedience, control. No we are not so different, in fact we are similar in more ways than not from Dread The Great Equalizer." The Imperator paused to let the words sink in. "We are both beyond the human and simple minded thoughts of Good and Evil. We are an inherent grey, we exist as external parts of nature, and this is why we must seek to foster brotherhood with those who the Galaxy hates, for we are simply those who the Galaxy does not hate yet."

"Malen, you and Councilman of the Forum Lumin shall go to this meeting, you shall represent us and make known our presence to the Rethast. Act in our best interest, and foster that bond which may be forged between Rethast and the Uthanium. Show them that we are not so different and that we are willing to see past the prefabricated hate of this galaxy towards them."

"As you will it Imperator Venka."

USIV Voice of the Listener
Approaching Designated Rethast Location

The Voice of the Listener was not a warship, nor was it civilian vessel, not a resource gather, nor a mothership. The Voice of the Listener was anomaly in its own right. It was embedded with essence of chaos, and yet also of order. It was the manifestation of the Listener in a ship if such thing was possible. Incredibly small by galactic standards, and yet prominent for a reason all its own. And it had arrived, phasing to the location that the Rethast had indicated. Bearing two souls who radiated excitement, fear, dread, and happiness, a strange conglomeration of emotions and feelings molded down together.

The Voice of the Listener hung in the void, waiting, waiting, until at last, for the first time in a millennium the Listener himself in great excitement and expectation spoke out across the void.

"Dread, Great Equalizer know that the Uthanium has heeded your call."

[Sobornost]

Delta Quadrant
Deep Space near the Lyrian Verge


A young woman floats zazen in a soundless chamber. A few inches beneath her is a sward of emerald grass, flawless and still in a near void without wind or motion. Besides this she knew nothing else. Of course, she was never strictly alone, even here.

A voice summoned her away from abstraction, soothing, and yet somehow unwelcome. She tried ignoring it.

"Sarena," it repeated, compelling and firm despite a distant quality which almost tempted her to question its origin. Opening her eyes, the young woman beheld a hundred thousand stars and twirling lights, realizing briefly she had no more an answer to that question than anyone else. She was not accustomed to the feeling of weight in her chest, especially not in Her presence.

"Yes, Mother?" Sarena said calmly, giving her best effort to keep her voice unbroken and tone even.

"I see you are troubled, child," the Mother said.

Sarena sighed. She said nothing, but her eyes drifted down to stare listlessly at the ground beneath her. She stroked her fingers through the grass.

As she did the holographic transfilm on the interior of the small chamber shifted, and the panorama of stars faded back, replaced by the matte black interior of the vessel's hull. Only a few glimmering strips of light circled the walls. Each blade of grass began to cast its own dim shadow, and Sarena pulled her fingers back.

"Tell me what is on your mind," came the Mother's voice. In the absence of anything else, it seemed to provide warmth. A soft, enveloping warmth which begged for anything but an honest answer.

Sarena swallowed, glanced around. There was nothing of note for her eyes to reference as she formed the issue in her mind, plotted the question. No face for her to look upon, no expressions to measure or eyes to meet. She looked at the cold walls for a time, then spoke.


"I am alone," Sarena said.

An image of the Mother appeared before her, walking barefoot through the grass until it stood just before the wayward child. Sarena looked up and saw a beautiful, if older woman, draped in a graceful white dress and crowned with dark sable hair unsilvered by time.

"You are never alone," the Mother said. "I am always watching."

"Watching, but not here," Sarena said. The younger girl uncrossed her legs gingerely and pushed off her hands. She floated upwards in the Zero-G, slowly and perfectly until almost-standing.

"You need only say the word, Sarena," the older woman said calmly, venturing to look into the soft brown eyes of her younger counterpart.

The girl, looking back, knew she only saw what she was meant to see. The Mother's eyes held truth, once.

"No. You promised you would never force me down that road, and I do not want it." She hesitated, blinking. A doubt lingered on her lips, but instead she only repeated herself. "You promised."

The Mother only smiled softly, and nodded. "I have not broken that covenant, child. I care too much for you to risk it, though I will not lie and say that I do not desire you." The offer remained unspoken, its details well known both to the supplicant and sublime.

Peace.

"Besides this, I can offer you only Purpose," the Mother said evenly.

Sarena nodded. Breathing in slow, rhythmic pulses, she took a moment just to bask there in front of Mother. The more she did, the more that weight seemed to slip away. After a pause she opened her eyes again. She was almost smiling.

"What would you have me do, Mother?"

"I've heard a new voice in the darkness. As distant as it is cold, but not unbidden. You must answer the call and be my eyes once again," She said.

"Whose voice? Where do I go?"

"I'm not fully sure," the Mother faltered. She examined Sarena's face. Dimples at the corner of her small mouth - slight bags beneath the eyes, the otherwise plain features, not unkind to the eyes but far from the paradigm of beauty. In that way, so unlike the graceful visage which stood before her.

"That is part of what you must discover. We know little enough of the Rethast, and so much less of the voice that is calling out into the void."

Sarena dwelt on the words. It was rare the Mother would even mention the others, much less confide her uncertainty. It spoke of the gravity of this mission, and perhaps.. that She had not come here eagerly.

"What do the Founders want with these Rethast?" she asked, mind suddenly spinning with the implications of what was being asked.

"We will decide that based purely on your interaction and observations, Sarena. You are my Chosen advocate, and you will learn everything there is to know from this opportunity."

Purpose is a word she does not use lightly, Sarena thought to herself. Envoy to an alien species. Envoy on behalf of the Founders. She tried to think of a mission which was less specific than the one being offered here - failed. She tried to think of a mission which threatened to carry her so completely away from home. . and failed.

"Where shall I go?" Sarena asked. The answer confused her. Gamma Sector had nothing to do with the Republic, and, so far as she knew, nothing to do with the Rethast, either. But if this was to be a meeting of two minds, maybe it was chosen for the sake of neutral ground.

The old doubt that had been toying on her lips returned once more. She chewed on it, teething at her lips as if it could be masticated down to a more reasonable size.

"What does this 'voice' want with us, or the Republic?" she eventually managed. "And why me?" the more important question.

The Mother hesitated. The slightest frown twisted at the corners of Her mouth. "I do not send you lightly. But we are not the only ones who have been called," She explained. "There are others. I cannot speak to their intentions, but I believe the Rethast - the Pathogen - means us no harm. At least not yet." The alternative was painful to contemplate.

"So I go, talk, spy, and eat popcorn when everyone sits down for movies," she said.

"I wouldn't eat their popcorn," the Mother replied dryly. "Be vigilant, Sarena. I trust you. I know you will not fail," She said.

For the first time Sarena realized this decision may not have solely belonged to the Mother. A mission like this was dangerous in indescribable ways. The lack of information, the very reason for her going, made it completely blind. There were others that might have been sent. Any one of the dozens of Ascendants could have been chosen without risk.

But if she found enemies in the Gamma Quadrant, and fared poorly, Sarena would die. She dwelt on the idea longer than might have been appropriate.

"I understand. Goodbye, Mother," she said, almost whispering.

"We will be watching," She said. Then the image disappeared, and Sarena was alone once more.

-----

Some time later


About a light second off some nameless rock in Gamma Quadrant, a sleek and comparatively diminutive vessel translates into realspace with barely a whimper. Nose to end the unconventional craft was less than 50 meters, with about a dozen small cylindrical compartments orbiting a larger central object which held them all near in gentle harmony. The vessel was arranged with a geometry and each compartment with sufficient topography to allow conventional radar and similar detection systems to ignore any hint of its existence. Optics, however, would have no issue whatsoever identifying the objects, and trace levels of output were necessarily present in the core cylinder.

Sarena floated suspended in one of the many outwardly opaque cylinders. Around her were streams of luminescent blue-green light, funneling telemetry and scanning reports from the SRS Persephone's mathematics. She scythed through the data-points with habitual ease, cataloging the visible contacts and interpreting the surface scans of the rogue planet's lone superstructure within seconds of translation. Outside of a little peeking, however, she and the Persephone just waited patiently, fully expecting to be noticed. The only question was by who... or what.

[New Azura]

The Morbid Curiosity Shall Get the Better of Us...
Aboard the Nicylene Capital Vessel Paragon
Fifteen Dak'tin from Ratah, Gamma Quadrant
1st Cycle of the Saanrin in the Year 4012AEC

The edifices opening on the dwarf planet were incomprehensible in their design; neither Tureth or Angath, or the Councilor and the Pa'yorans for that matter had seen anything quite like it. They were reasonably certain that their presence was being monitored from the start, as much by the Rethast as it was the various ships moving in proximity to them. Various makes and models, some partially familiar in the Codices of vessels present in their archives, some wholly foreign and exotic in their make. Yet the construct in the isolated, lonely ice planet floating out of any known orbit made all other ships approaching look relatively childish. Tureth monitored the situation with a keen interest, feeling a healthy mix of curious apprehension and intrigue that had practically decided the next course of action before any spoken word had been uttered.

We've come this far, Tureth thought to himself as Councilor Voreigh moved to sit beside him in the co-pilot's seat. Both of the Pa'yoran siblings and his own brother Angath quietly moved in behind, observing with keen interest the readings being fed back from the Paragon's sensors. As they had feared in Jara, the planet was in fact icy and deathly inhospitable to the Nicylene contingency; though they prided themselves on being extremely adaptable to a variety of situations, the Nicyl had limits to their capabilities. Of course, the icy edifice staring them in the face now was not indicative of any sort of hostile intent from the host—at least, not implicitly so. There was no external sign of any threat, from either the ships moving in close proximity to the Paragon, the planet or the constructs within. If Tureth and his companions meant to answer the invitation, they would have to go in.

He turned towards the Councilor, who exchanged a blank look of expectation, much as he assumed he now wore. "Councilor Voreigh, the call rests with you to make; I would think that we should be alright, provided we make use of our common sense here." He turned back towards the Pa'yorans, admiring their tenacity as they looked eager for the challenge. "What do you think, X'ia?"

"I say we go," the older Pa'yoran said with resoluteness resounding in his voice. There was no mistaking the courage or the expectation that the Pa'yoran members of the expedition demonstrated—they had heard the call come forth from the recesses of the Gamma Quadrant, and they intended to see that it was answered. "We came all this way out here; why turn back at the last moment?"

Tureth stared off into the distance, keeping the Paragon on course to enter the most direct construct privy to them. The Councilor leaned forward in his seat, as if to take a better look at the openings in the planet surface; he was obviously intrigued. "Cowardice does not run in the blood of the Nicyl—not openly, at least. And I see no external threat that would designate this as a trap. Even if it were an elaborate ruse, I would prefer to fight my way out of it than to say I had never gone into the fray at all."

Angath nodded succinctly, resting his hand on the shoulder of his brother. "I concur, Councilor. We can use our thermal biosuits to prevent any threat of exposure in case the inside of the planet is as frosty as the surface."

"It's a good point," the younger Pa'yoran K'roth added. "From our limited ability to scan the construct, it appears to open into some sort of maze-like corridor with an unknown destination. In the event that we are forced to leave the Paragon, it would be wise to have the ability to function without freezing to the ground."

"Agreed," the Councilor said, turning in his seat to face the group behind him. "K'roth, take the controls from Tureth while we head back and suit up. Allow the ship's internal navigation to guide itself through the nearest opening, but keep our weapons systems offline—in case we are being scanned, I don't want to appear wantonly hostile. Not yet, at least."

"Understood, Councilor," K'roth said quietly, stepping to the side as Tureth slipped out of the command chair. He could feel his respect welling up inside for the young Pa'yoran—knowing that he would be marooned on the Paragon in case things went south inside the planet's construct, he still demonstrated no trace of disappointment or animosity. Tureth was constantly reminded of how fortunate the delegation was to have brought along X'ia and K'roth.

"Now, for the rest of us," the Councilor spoke diligently as the rest of their member moved away from the command deck towards the internal hangar off behind it, "we need to be on our toes. If the Rethast operate as we expect them to, then we should be led straight to where we mean to go. This is a new experience for all of us, but remember that we subjugate ourselves to no one. I would rather die than allow my knee to hit the ground in servitude to another species—even one as prominent as the Rethast."

Tureth nodded, understanding the sentiment entirely. The Nicylene Hegemony was a relative newcomer to the larger sphere of political influence contained within the Gamma Quadrant, and there was certain sense of knowing their place amongst the more established civilizations which had staked their claim from generations past. Yet the Nicyl had no time for the pleasantries of formality, or abiding by the customary rules of the space-faring civilizations who shared in their exquisite tastes. The Nicyl were not about to become the playthings of another race—no matter how superior they might be, the Nicyl would fight to the bloody, bitter death before going into chains. It was that feeling, the anticipation that was building as the shadows inside the vessel grew deeper with each passing second. They were beginning to pass inside the opening in the construct, signaling the beginning of the end to their journey.

We're almost there...

[Rethan]

The Congregation

As the Nicylene vessels closed in on the opening into the construct, the structure warped and melted, shaping itself to best accomodate the incoming vessel. Invisible chains of force dragged against the ship, slowing it and pulling it into position as slivers of catwalks and hallways were vomited forth, reaching out toward the perceived exits, fields of false gravity lining them as they did so. Alien geometries coalesced into the pathways the Nicyl would be invited to take into the bowels of the dead world.

More came, and the infinite intellect of the Pathogen took notice. More of the openings on the world appeared, rock and ice corroding and rotting away to reveal yet more of the Pathogenic architecture beneath the ice encrusted soil. Sammael took it upon Itself to visit each in turn. Within microseconds of each arrival, the godship spoke from its position now only bare light hours distant from the planet.

To the Ulthani first, then to the small ship Persephone came the godship's voice. Filled with inhuman tone and incomprehensible intent it reverberated not as sound does, but as the very architecture of existence. A song of a thousand voices, deep and commanding.

"We wait. The Congregation has opened and you will enter. I, am watching."

Then silence fell again, the dire voice vanishing as suddenly and effortlessly as it had appeared. Invisible to the world, its form hidden behind the panes of shattered space and folds of non-existence which gave It movement, Sammael watched.

OOC: Y'all can skip straight to the meeting rooms if you want at this point. TG me if you want descriptions of the hallways for your own posts. Keep in mind, nobody will meet anybody else yet. The Pathogen is keeping you all separate intentionally. You'll each be taking your own paths to your own meeting rooms.

[New Azura]

In all his time, Tureth had never laid eyes on anything as fantastic—or disconcerting—as the frozen abode of the host. K'roth hadn't done anything; instead, some form of magnetized field had captured the ship, pulling it through in order to dock. The firm fixation on the path ahead had bred undue hubris in the eyes of his companions as they donned their protective suits, unsure as to what to expect. It was the hesitancy, the trepidation in leaving the Paragon that had gripped him gently now, urging him to forward with caution, if only to assure that they would keep moving forward period. The Rethast, if they were indeed the ones welcoming the Nicyl into the construct before them, had gotten extraordinarily creative in their construction. Departing on foot from their vessel had led them through a high, arching hallway extending onwards for quite a ways, suspended in the midst by a catwalk-type pathway. Living metal, manipulated by some unseen force was leading them on as a gravitational anchor of sorts kept them balanced, even as the path turned towards what could only be the core.

"Stay alert," Councilor Voreigh spoke at the front of their small group, leading them boldly—but alertly—into a vast, yawning opening. Tureth watched as the Pa'yoran moved ahead without fear whatsoever; at least none that he could tell. There was little fear if anything in his own gut, yet the undue optimism that had blanketed their group back on Ratah had fled, replaced by a nervous churning of the unknown which hampered any sort of encouragement that may be issued. The hexagonal hallway had yielded to a vast, open pit that extended on forever. Hundreds if not thousands of catwalk-like pathways jutting forth from all around, each into a different terminus. Looking ahead, Tureth stared in awe at a gaping black monolith—a structure that held no equal within the home system of the Nicyl. It seemed to go on forever, without beginning or end. It was just there, beckoning the curious and the strong forward in a perfect display of utilitarian strength.

So where are we now?

As the group continued on towards an opening in the monolithic facade, Tureth could see that they were being led towards another hallway similar to the first. This one however held none of the ambiguity of the former—in the distance, a small room could be seen that marked the end of their travels. After clunking forward in the bulky but maneuverable suits, any pause would be welcome if only to take in the insanity operating around them. No other planet that the Nicyl had conquered could produce such sheer awe and wonder as the apparent abode of the Rethast. Tureth still wasn't sure what to expect once they reached their destination, but his appreciation for the civilization that had engineered such a magnificent construct was growing with each step. As was his meddling thoughts, which swelled with vague machinations of the evil that would result of the Nicyl ever had to fight them. As his grudging appreciation grew, so too did the uneasy feeling of making sure their rendezvous went according to plan.

Walking through the narrow hallway towards what appeared to be some sort of small room, Tureth was suddenly reminded by the simple, utilitarian nature of the construct. Though the technology was far beyond anything he or his people were used to dealing with, there was a generalized sensation of plainness that was hiding beneath the eloquence. A sort of simple functionality that resonated in his spirit—just as the Rethast could be an unwholesome enemy that would require the full resources of the Nicyl to even confront, the civilization may yet harbor something in common with the Nicyl. Slowly, the pilot began to allow a trickle of optimism crash the undue trepidation that had taken hold of him beforehand. Whether he lived or he died following whatever was coming, he would conduct himself in the highest Nicylene tradition. There was no patience, nor tolerance for the weakness that had doomed all that had fallen by their feet. Whatever would find them as the group entered the small chamber, the Nicylene representatives would face it without fear.

It was indeed a small chamber, however—slightly less intimidating than the construct it was lodged within, but no less unique for that. As the four of them stepped inside the chamber, seats began to materialize through some hitherto-unseen material in the floors. Each seat rose up neatly behind them; seemingly as an invitation to sit down. By far the most unique feature in the room was a dais, raised up several steps in front of them. It dominated the otherwise utilitarian room, though its purpose was partially hidden until the very last second. Without any fanfare, any reasoning whatsoever, the emptiness above the dais was suddenly filled with a silverish-black avatar-like creature, faceless and void in their presence. The creature said nothing in their presence, and as Tureth looked towards his comrades, all stared straight ahead from their seats, their looks implied within the protective shield that their helmets offered...

—Except for the Pa'yoran, who slowly took off his helmet despite being dreadfully against protocol. Voreign nor his brother Angath made any move as X'ia slowly breathed in the air, shuddering slightly before letting his helmet drop to the floor. With a stony, cold expression, the Pa'yoran stood up, taking a step forward towards the avatar, which seemed almost to move with him, focusing in on him despite having no external means of doing so. Slowly, Tureth removed his own helmet, feeling the unusual chill in his lungs as he breathed. Angath followed suit slowly, keeping his helmet in his lap. Only the Councilor kept his visor on, choosing not to make his presence known any more so than he already had. The Pa'yoran stopped at the foot of the dais, looking up at the avatar with a cautious curiosity that beckoned some sort of strength from within him. Tureth was reminded of how fortunate he was to have met the young Nicylene when the avatar began to shift.

It wasn't drastic, but it was enough to draw everyone's attention forward. The avatar was... morphing somehow, altering the physical facade of its external layers. Within seconds, the dawning of what Tureth and his companions were watching drove a stake of uncertainty straight through them, leaving them sore and perplexed. The avatar was forming from the feet up to look like a Nicylene, replete with the same thermal biosuit that each of their foursome now wore. Even at the oddity of seeing a reflection raise up upon the dais, Tureth watched in mute awe as the facial features of X'ia were replicated to perfection. It had taken only several seconds to change, and all was quiet in the room. For a moment, the slightest of smiles was pasted on the Pa'yoran's face as he turned to admire the replica, gently lowering his hands to the side in fascination. Tureth could see that he was preparing to break the silence, and knew that this was it—the moment they had traveled so far to reach.

This is how our innocence ends...

"I am X'ia, the Progeny of Ga'ran," the Pa'yoran said boldly, looking up at his replica. "I represent the Nicylene contingency standing before you, on behalf of the Kodona-Yivinn System of Gamma Quadrant. We have come to answer your call."

[The Uthani Imperium]

A Not so Chance Meeting

Voice of the Listener

The bulkhead began to move on its own, under the power of an unidentified force that dragged the Voice of the Listener towards the Rethast spawn in the distance. Neither Lumin, Malen, or even the Listener itself attempted to guide the vessel, she was under the power of the Great Equalizer, the Rethast had answered their call thank the Ulumar. Now they placed trust in them to guide the vessel into the complex, an oddity considering the general taboo on using trust and Rethast in the same sentence.

"When the vessel touches down you will not speak, you will follow the hand to the main antechamber. Should the Rethast question you simply bow to them and I shall commune through your vessel." The words of the Listener filled Malen and Lumin's heads, each giving a solemn nod to each other as the ship grew nearer and nearer the Pathogenic entity that now engulfed the view ports of the small ship. "Do not under any circumstances do anything that might anger or upset the Rethast, should you be counterproductive you will be terminated on the spot. Do not fail me."

Again the two Uthani nodded to each other, then touched the bulkhead of the vessel in recognition of the Listener's words. Just in time to feel the living metal engulf the ship. The blast doors of the Voice of the Listener came completely off, melting into what appeared to be a dreary gray magma that began to shift into a more humanoid form that finally morphed into a pure steel replica of a faceless Uthani. The hand of the Listener, or rather the most well known avatar the Listener used to project his influence on the physical world.

Malen and Lumin moved to flank the metal golem that now began to stride down the hexagon hall ways, Malen and Lumin barely keeping pace as they shivered under the intense lack of heat. They continued like this for a time, the slight curve in their path only noticeable to the golem until they came to a sharp bank where an unseen force barely kept Malen and Lumin from plummeting to their deaths, assuming the omnipresent mist that gripped the space underneath them was a deep as they thought it was. Which was assumed as the Uthani burst free of the hallway onto what appeared to be a self supporting causeway that stretched out over a seemingly endless chasm.

The golem broke free of the constricted hallway without thought, pressing forth onto the causeway that extended in front of them. Malen matched, Lumin nearly fell to his death attempting to keep pace and stumbling towards the abyss, only to be forced back by what was assumed to be a force field of some sort. "These Rethast don't take chances on accidental death do they?" Lumin joked to those around him for a moment, only to be silenced by a faceless glare from the golem that had paused for a moment. They pressed on, coming to the structure that had been opposite of their original position.

Here they continued in silence for some time, none of the two escorts daring to speak as the golem presided over them with silent contempt. At last they broke free to a nearly featureless room, dominated by a single, slightly elevated platform that was towards the rear of the room. From the floor a trio of blackened chairs erupted from the floor, as if to greet the Uthani who had just entered. From the pedestal an avatar appeared, flickering for a moment as if to gauge for a moment who was in charge until it took the form of the silent golem that lead the group.

The two Uthani escorts fell to both knees in silence, each doing as he was ordered leaving only the incarnation of the Listener still standing. The golem itself gave a slight bow of the head, but no more, it was not in the Listener's character to be overly submissive, especially to one it hoped to consider equal and friend in the future.

"Dreadful Equalizer," the golem began to speak in a deep metallic tone, devoid of any traces of humanity. "I am the one called Listener, Eternal Vigilance of the Uthani Empire in the Gamma Quadrant of this galaxy. I have come bearing goodwill in adherence to your call of gathering great Rethast."

[EternalNight]

A Shard extruded itself from each of the two Harvester Ships that silently floated in space approximately one light-hour from the Congregation. The auras of death around the two grim vessels were muted, but still presented a queasy feel to any who looked upon them for long, or worse tried to psionically sense them.

The Shards flew into the Congregation, the structure of such literally flowing to meet the two crystalline vessels and form docking facilities for them. From out of the two small glowing vessels two balls of energy emerged, one black and a dark blue-purple, the other black and dark amber. Although merely avatars, they rippled through the fabric of space, the continuum twisting as they each manifested a physical form. Nathrael stepped forward, the sheer... deadness of the world a mix of disappointment and pleasure to him. "Well, not likely to be much to eat here... I hope we don't get peckish as they say." with a slight laugh.

El'Niath-L'Eral looked back at him "Discipline is the root of controlling all one's basic urges Nathrael, as Lord Midnight always said." Though Nathrael was a vision of beauty, he paled in comparison to El'Niath-L'Eral, who casually observed their surroundings as they started walking through the tunnels. Hair falling to his thighs, he looked almost female, far more androgynous then most of the Mu...even Nathrael who looked at him with an odd bit of envy. The two each wore a traditional Naacal robe of a shimmery fabric-if indeed fabric it was. Both black, Nathrael's trimmed with dark blue, El'Niath-L'Eral in amber. Overall they each looked sensual in a way, though anyone who knew either of the two would know that the only sensuality Nathrael seemed to feel was when bringing death, and El'Niath-L'Eral if anything even less then that. "There was no life here...Ever." El'Niath-L'Eral said bluntly. "Neither obliterated or Harvested. This world was never a bearer of life light."

"Some rock the Rethast converted for this purpose then. They are very practical after all." Nathrael muttered as they emerged from the dark portal of the hexagonal tunnel to behold a vast central monolith structure, linked by metal structural supports that seemed to the human mind to resemble organic structures in subtle ways. They two walked along a causeway/bridge of sorts that led to the central structure. Seemingly the only things alive in the whole world...if they even counted as life as most would understand the word.

As they crossed the bridge of sorts, El'Niath-L'Eral said in admiration. "Those who converted this world would make worthy allies in our quest to return Lord Adraniel. I met one of their Relayships when I was... away for a while." Nathrael looked on, saying nothing for a moment. He will find out eventually... he thought to himself, shields tight before saying "Adraniel has returned to us." in a flat tone. El'Niath-L'Eral turned around to Nathrael and hugged him tight. "I am glad, nay overjoyed that my work has succeeded. When we are finished here we must return to him, I have much to say and am sure he will be pleased." El'Niath-L'Eral then released Nathrael. Nathrael just nodded and managed a smile before the two walked into the main structure, coming at last to a medium sized dark room lit by the dim flickering of lights and displays. Awaiting them was a Rethast Avatar, that bore a resemblance to the shape of the Mu people, yet with a coldness. The avatar showed no life essence to either of the Eternal Night ascended, To a level it reminded Nathrael of Leliel, though s(he) did have a life force of a sort... They stood before the avatar and El'Niath-L'Eral stepped forward one step and spoke.

"The representatives of the Mu and of Lord Adraniel of the First Triune have arrived." El'Niath-L'Eral said by word, mind, and space-time resonance as the two entities waited for a response. Though no stranger to dealing with the Rethast...and indeed being their greatest proponent in Eternal Night, Nathrael was concerned. As he looked over at the Herald of Adraniel he could not help but guardedly think one thought.

I hope I did not make a mistake...

[Sertian]

The small, shuttle-like craft drifted closer to the dead planet, decelerating evenly to what would eventually bring it comfortably in orbit around the decrepit sphere – at least until it was halted by the imperceivable force acted upon it by the Pathogen. The vessel gave a brief spurt of resistance, a sputter of plasma coalescing within the magnetic coils and swathes which comprised its engine, until it was over ruled and left to be dragged into the waiting abyss beneath it while its children, the myriad of drones continuing to spread throughout the nearby space, watched silently. A few of the drones slaved their attention towards the descent, marking and capturing every scrap of information as it watched the vessels – all of the vessels – be captured within the planet's clutches and engulfed into its maws.

Nearby, and yet not, the unseen presence of the Imperial warship glided gracefully through the dimensions of Non-Euclidean space, drawing itself away from the extradimensional structures that had so consumed its attention before, and moving to lie in parallel with the planet itself. Tilting and rotating itself along a variety of dimensional axes, the three-dimensional structure of the ship finally came to a stop parallel against the normal space of the known universes – but separated by a few meters of space along a fourth spatial measurement. All the while, a new set of drone children birthed from the structure's hull began to drift outwards from the ship's previous position, moving with its initial velocity as the drones pointed their attention towards the Eternal Night vessels, moving throughout their nine-known dimensions and observing the mysterious ships from Non-Euclidean space. All of this, however, would have gone unnoticed to those that didn't have the means to peer into the other dimensions of space.

Within the great mega-structure of alien design, the utilitarian craft came to a somber rest, lying like the discarded tool it had now become. Its purpose finished, and now serving nothing more as a warm bunk for its contents, the craft's belly – letting the cold, alien air invade the empty volume of the ship's interior. Nothing moved for quite some time as the sapient creatures watching so close, and yet so very far, monitored and traced the variety of feeds being fed in from the shuttle's sensors – until finally the Low Admiral gave a brief nod and order, and a lone device surged with power as it disgorged itself from the wall.

It was a simple, roughly oval shape via a polygonal surface, and which hovered by what could only be assumed where some sort of repulsion engine scattered within the surface of its metallic skin. Devices skittered within its form, extruding from its shielded hull as cameras and sensors began to open and examine the familiar confines of the shuttle – where upon several drones identical to the now active one lingered for when they would be needed. Eventually its still hovering was ended as it drifted forward, pushing its through the confines of the small shuttle, until finally dipping down to leave its comforting grace, and enter into the unknown recesses of the Pathogen's hospitality.

The craft moved forward, following the offered walk way through the facility, although the nimble devices routinely turned and shifted through its journey, casting its gaze across the huge abyss, every frame transmitted into the ether of nine-dimensional space, to be received by the powerful warship and processed safely by the beings within. The drone's electronic gaze soon focusing upon the massive obelisk it had been guided too. The device pausing, recording, until briefly leaving its offered walk way to hover off to the side within the gigantic pit – shifting a few meters away from the web-like path and sweeping its gaze from the bay that it had crawled its way out of, all the way towards the tunnel within the obelisk it would shortly be disappearing into, until finally returning to hover along its offered route. Dipping into its intended opening within the obelisk, leaving the foggy expanse behind it its silent oblivion.

Finally reaching the end of its intended journey, the craft came to hover within the center of the room – its gaze sweeping across the room once, then twice, until finally three times until it finally came to a rest hovering in the middle of the room. And then, finally, it was joined by the presence of those who controlled the machine's destinity. Two figures, composed of nothing but light formed into the image its Master's desired, came into being within the room, standing before the dais. Both images almost indistinguishable from their controllers – save for the pale, almost angelic glow that was cast by the holographic light.

The first form stood tall, and at first glance could almost have been mistaken for a human if one overlooked the oddly colored hair and eyes, and finally an odd band of stripes that wrapped around his throat. His features firm and disciplined, his form garbed in the familiar armor and uniform of the Sertian military, composite plates shielding its genetically enhanced form, while its keen eyes glanced throughout the room. It was joined by a smaller form of artificial light, barely topping within the five foot range. Its features reptilian in nature, but unlike many within the galaxy not possessing the bony fringes and spikes, but rather the smooth scales and soothing curves more reminiscent of an Earth gecko. It was this, smaller being, which made the first move as it cast its attention towards the Low Admiral, giving him the courtesy of bowing his head in a curt nod to signal the start of the talks. The reptilian creature's lips curling into a soft smile as it walked – its holographic feet making no noise as it approached the avatar forming in front of him, the grotesque figure of flesh and steel taking a form that mimicked his own – even if it did little to soothe its unsettling pressence.

“Greetings, Pathogen. The formal delegates of the New Sertian Empire myself, Ambassador Devlin Childrick of Sertia II, and my companion-”

“They know very well who I am,” the Sertian interrupted, the barest hint of bitter hatred seeping into his words as he spoke – it appeared he had less success keeping the malice in his emotions free from his voice than he had the holographic projection of his body. His words were punctuated by the rather violent spasm within the avatar's flesh as it quickly came to mimic the human-like form of the admiral as its gaze shifted to the speaking man.

“...Yes, well then,” the Ambassador replied, choosing to forgo the stern stare he no doubt desired to shoot towards the admiral, before returning his attention towards the shifting being of the Rethast avatar before it – his gaze unwavering from the contortions of flesh and metal which shook through the creature to return to its previous mimicry of himself. “We stand here in answer to your summons.”

[Rethan]

New Azura

The Nicyl were new, their civilisation an unknown at the time the Pathogen had retreated into hibernation. The Avatar regarded those before it with a blank expression, but behind the artificial visage every part of them was examined. Every emission from heat through to well beyond ultraviolet was recorded as the Pathogen began to educate itself on the Nicyl civilisation. As the guests spoke, the Avatar turned to face X'ia and spoke in a tone of neutral mimicry. There was no emotion as the Pa'yoran's voice was echoed back at him, but traces of a thousand other voices spoke beneath the simulated sound, a subtle choir which tugged at the air.

"The Nicylene are an unknown. A resident of Gamma, and therefore invited. You will inform us of your intentions and expectations. We must know more. Tell us of your civilisation. We must seek to understand before we can seek to unify."

---

The Ulthani Imperium

There was no polite welcome nor acknowledgement when the Ulthani arrived. Like with the Nicyl, the Avatar spoke in a mimicry of the golem's own voice tainted with the thousand voice choir. It remained otherwise completely still, staring down the Ulthani representative with perfectly mimicked but utterly unnatural eyes. There was a deadness to its voice which betrayed its nature as little more than a mouthpiece for a collection of potentially millions.

"Ulthani. An Unknown variable. We must understand and know before we can engage. What are your motivations for heeding our summons? We must evaluate your expectations before we can assess the risk of engaging."

---

EternalNight

The Avatar turned to face Nathrael first, the Collect recognising his form and responding to his arrival.

"Nathrael. You are known to us. The Collect welcomes you to the Congregation."

Turning back to face El'Niath, the Avatar made sure to record and remember everything it witnessed as discussions began.

"You arrived with a Disconnect, a Relayship. Where did you find it?"

The Pathogen was already in the process of learning this for itself, the memories of the Disconnect flooding the Collect as soon as it had arrived but they were broken and fragmented. Until the Collect had translated the thoughts and reformed them, they needed El'Niath to give them an answer instead.

"You come with Nathrael. Do not assume that gives your voice weight when speaking to us. We will ascertain your trustworthiness ourselves. What interest does the First Triune have with Us?"

---

Sertian

A current of remembrance surged through the Collect as the Sertian holograms showed themselves. The Sertian paranoia was on display, but not unexpected given the two civilisation's history together. The veiled contempt held by the Admiral was understood, but disregarded as irrelevant. The Ambassador was the one the Pathogen wanted, and as the Avatar turned to focus on him, it solidified its shape into his form before speaking.

"The Sertian Empire is known to us. Our previous interaction was hostile, despite the eventual dissolution of active hostilities and the sharing of Commonwealth territories. Your arrival was unexpected but is not unwelcome. The Collect wonders why you heeded our summons given our prior experiences. Clearly your associate disagrees with your being here. We find it likely that others hold his opinion also. Can we be assured that your presence here is genuine?"

The Avatar indicated the Sertian admiral as it spoke. Despite what he had said, the Collect had no knowledge of him. His name was unknown to them, but that was a query that would have to wait before they interrogated him. For now they needed to make sure the Sertians, just as they were making sure with everyone else, were here with genuine reason and purpose for discussion. The Pathogen would not waste time with those who were here to try and ascertain the nature of an enemy, as opposed to the desires of an ally.

[EternalNight]

The Congregation

El'Niath-L'Eral nodded to the Rethast Avatar. "All are Tested and Judged on their individual merits, whether as individuals, political entities, or on a species level. This is the natural order of things." Nathrael seemed to nod in agreement as the older of the two continued speaking. "The Relayship as well as my own vessel had crashed on a primitive world in a far off dimensional alignment. This world had great promise in many ways. yet in others was stagnated."

"Eventually, the Relayship's Pathogenic component adapted itself to the local inhabitants, a species known as the Rhustarim. They were infected and eventually ceased being the conventional definition of life. The Newborns allowed for the Relayship's repair and return to full operational status. It was then that the Relayship and I came upon a deal of sorts. My own ship needed repairs, and the only thing I had with me at the time capable of effecting such repairs was the Essence Core of my Harvester. For that to occur however it needed life energy, to be 'born' in a sense."

El'Niath-L'Eral smiled, his eyes flickering as he remembered the last moments of the now dead world. "We reached an arrangement. I would drain most of the life energy of the world. Not enough to cause death, but more then enough to weaken the resistance of the various beings to the Pathogen. In this we would each gain what we desired. After all, is not a dual-vector system the most effective? With my Harvester fully realised and the Relayship repaired, we headed off into the Eternal Night. Travelling the long trail back to this dimensional alignment, leaving a trail behind us for all to recognize and fear... We brought order to that world together, And together we can bring Order to all of Creation. As far as the Triune... I will let Nathrael speak for that, as legally he has more... familiarity with them currently."

Nicely played... Nathrael thought to himself. "Lord Midnight is in full support of the Rethast and the Immortal Pathogen. He feels that you do an admirable job on bringing order to the cosmos. Lord Enrial is of mixed opinion, though he tends to follow with the thoughts of his Anais. Lord Adraniel wants to... 'cure' the Rethast. I have tried to explain that the Rethast are not sick, that they have evolved beyond the normal definition of life, that Pathogen and Rethast are one as are EN and the "Antilife Alignment" of d-branes. Adraniel though has always been a bit of an...idealist." Nathrael glanced back and forth casually from the Avatar to the Herald.

That's a kick in the balls Nathrael thought as he saw the odd, somewhat puzzled and discomfitted look to El'Niath-L'Eral's features. Have to be careful now, this could go many ways, not all of them pleasant...

"Regardless, as they act as one I feel the First Triune as a whole will continue to be supportive of the Rethast for the forseeable future, which for us is quite, quite long." Nathrael finished.

Harvester Ship El'Niath-L'Eral

The Sentience Core of the Harvester searched to void of space and beyond for any potential threat to it's Fulfillment and master. Metaphasic arrays detected the Sertian probes soon enough. 9th dimensional phase variance... Interesting and noteworthy. Passively observing, the Core kept note of the probes, while applying a slight dissonance to it's own crystalline structure so the Harvester was effectively masked from detailed scans. If they communicate, then things could get interesting. my Fulfillment left no direct orders regarding this... the Core thought before sending a brief resonance to it's companion vessel. The two Cores agreed to wait and see how things progressed...

[Sertian]

Alexander briefly shot a glance towards the reptilian ambassador as the Pathogen avatar spoke, but beyond that he remained silent and merely watched as the conversation unfolded. Devlin, for his part, merely acknowledged the Low Admiral's objection to the creature's statement with a small nod, before leaving the man to keep himself busy – his mental reflexes flexing to begin pouring over the information that their sensors brought in from the other vessels, giving his holographic form an almost blank expression – occasionally snapping back into focus whenever the conversation would drift into something that concerned his duty.

“It is our task as the stewards of a Great Empire to ensure all races survive and prosper together,” the reptile spoke, his holographic form standing rather straight as he delivered the Sertian stump speech. “Previously, that duty to the universe brought us into conflict with the beings known as the Pathogen, however the Pathogen themselves are a form of life, something new. Some sort of arrangement that allows us to coexist would be in our interests.”

The man then delivered another smile as his body posture relaxed. “Beyond moral grounds, however, the constant vigilance and conflict with the Pathogen is a tax against our military capacity that we can hardly afford. Our Empire is expanding rapidly throughout the Gamma Quadrant, and with that expansion we have been brought into confrontation with the civilizations of the other quadrants who have turned their attention towards our territory. Conflict I'm sure the Pathogen is all too familiar with.”

“As for my associate, many share his opinions. A treaty between our people would not easy. It would require... A sleight adjustment into how the Pathogen operates. But, I'm sure your Collective realizes the advantage of peace between our races would greatly out weigh the sacrifices that would have to be made.”

“Especially since the Collective is quite aware of the extent to which some of our people have gone to try and limit your expansion,” the Rip'lard ended his reply, his gaze briefly turning his attention towards Alexander, who's attention had fully returned to the meeting – his gaze cold as he met the smaller creature's gaze before Devlin's attention returned to the avatar before him.

[Sobornost]

Sammel's message seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once - and though used to the concept of uninvited and disembodied voices, Sarena could not help the goosebumps that creeped up the back of her neck. The generous invitation certainly did not come through the Qlink, and none of the archaic radio systems Persephone kept around registered anything other than background static. The voice was simply there, and the Godship, of course, was not.

"Can you identify that source?" Sarena asked quietly, eyebrows furrowing as she isolated a few motes of light out of the river flowing before her.

"Negative. Communication pattern is atypical. Categorizing for later analysis," the ship replied.

"Uh-huh. Deploy pods four and five, delta pattern."

Persephone and her many children shifted into a new configuration in preperation as a pair of small, identical black pods were hurled away from the gravitational womb of the core cylinder. They drifted at comparatively languid supraluminal speeds, as each sibling sprouted long and tiny fingers that began fumbling at the void in an ugly, blatant display of active scanning which resolved into absolutely nothing new.

Then, with a soundless 'pop', the pair of probes disappeared into slipspace. In the following seconds they repeated this procedure dozens of times, snapping back to realspace only long enough to pump data into their host's collection array. Coagulating and comparing their reports, Persephone traced Sammael's ominous mass-wake around the outskirts of the not-quite-solar-system, and the previously undetected hyperphasic presence of several additional ships idling somewhat closer to the planet.

Fresh telemetry hummed into life, trickling and popping beneath Sarena's fingertips turn by turn. A slight smile teased the corner of her mouth. Ships that could idle outside of normal space, vessels that patrolled at a light-minute+ range without ever dropping in to make contact. Or perhaps deploy weaponry. She reacted to this not with dread or uncertainty, but rather a fluttering in her heart that focused her to the moment at hand.

The novelty of newness stuck even after Persephone began motivating towards the Congregation. A flare of propellant blossomed behind the vessel's core cylinder, nearly as long in whole as the ship itself which heaved the craft forward. Though sluggish at first she eventually picked up respectable speeds and would close the opening light-second worth of distance in only a few minutes. Those in the proximity and of the mind to look closer detected notably little other than the thermal flare of Persephone's thrusters, and its dark, slick skin. Though the ship herself was easy enough to find, anything beneath its smooth black hull may as well have not been there - evidenced only as discrete voids of nospace even to exotic translight sensors.

In transit towards the dwarf planet, a pair of the pods traded slots with their fellows until they were close enough to touch, the first outwardly observable indication that each pod served a specialized purpose. When they docked, Sarena glanced to her side. The ovular inner wall of her habitation module bled away to reveal a small tube. Flicking her wrist, the holographic interface orbiting Sarena splashed into emptiness - then she pushed off and floated casually through the opening. She reached up to grab a piece of cold hand-railing and came to a stop just as the pods lights came on, revealing an interior given over to densely packaged weapons and tailored deployment suites beyond count. Anything a girl could need.

Among all of the prefabbed munition housings and gun-rails with their eager, blinking green lights loomed a storage tank brimming with faintly glowing fluid. Suspended in that viscous gel was a creature anything but human, vile and asymmetric, whose lifeless eyes seemed to glare down at her with contempt. The Methetzla bioarmor was slumbering, digits and muscles twitching now and sometimes then, a hollow shell of nightmares and ruin so sorely out of place compared with the other armaments on display - and compared with Sarena herself. After a few cold, quiet moments, she sighed and pulled herself forward to the tank. Looking into the creature's eyes, Sarena slowly reached out and touched the tank. . . and before long it started looking back.

-----

At a healthy distance from the Congregation, Persephone dispensed yet another of her children. A sleek capsule peeled away from the warm embrace of the core cylinder and slipped down towards the planet's pale, otherwise featureless surface towards one of the cavities which seemed to patiently await its arrival. Around the same moment the Pathogen's invisible, extradimensional fingers started groping the shuttle's hull, Persephone jumped out of the system - leaving behind only her two probes and the lonely shuttle.

"No turning back now," Sarena muttered as the shuttle's hull groaned ever so meekly and was pulled deeper into the Congregation's voluminous passage ways. Her journey in the Pathogen's unseen hands was brief enough before the small craft was locked down in some kind of metallic encasement, leaving only one path forward into darkness. A hatch on the side of the shuttle hissed and leaked its atmosphere, opening onto the walkway. Sarena eventually emerged from the misting vapors, alone, wrapped head to toe in a neoprene-like bodysuit laced with artificial tensile fibers and shaped carapace plating.

Though the Pathogen had made some effort in keeping the air tolerable, she chose instead the suit's built in rebreather and O2 supply. An assortment of yet-to-be demonstrated weapons were maglocked to an assembly on her back, including a few components which rested at the belt or strapped to her thigh. Anything could go on down here, and she was going to enter it as prepared as possible. Or... as prepared as reasonable.

Navigating down the catwalk could not have been simpler. There were no errors to make. Every turn and twist was laid out plainly. By the time she entered the main chamber, and looked out to all the thousands of other catwalks leading towards one dark central spire, Sarena had already taken the time to pause and marvel at the bubble-wrap of gravitational energies which guided her path. She had already knelt to touch the catwalk itself, brushed her gloved fingertips over its surface - hard and cold, yet so featureless - and she suspected it might be conveniently absent if she contemplated a return trip. More interesting by far, though, was the field that kept her from toppling over the edge. She reached her hand out against the force, pressed against it, even went so far as trying to pierce it. To no avail. The technology was remarkably close to the familiar mass fields derived from Nuridium - but infinitely more precise and refined. And, perhaps, infinitely more powerful.

"You getting all of this?" Sarena asked. There was no voice to accompany the question. From somewhere out in the void, disregarding distance or depth, Persephone provided instant acknowledgment.

"Alright. . . here we go," Sarena said as she followed the catwalk to its terminus. The chamber was quaint enough, barren save for an alcove in the back that sported some kind of automata which quickly became all too familiar. A chair made perhaps from the same material as the catwalks melted out of the floor, and was promptly ignored. Instead, and almost without pause, Sarena just walked forward, circling the Pathogen's avatar with the detached curiosity of a child evaluating a new toy - holding a brazen assumption that it was the plaything, and not her. She made no effort to remove her mask, or provide greeting of any kind, or draw close enough to touch the avatar, or for it to touch her. In fact she seemed hesitant to touch anything at all in this room, and after watching the avatar shift and take on a form that resembled her armor, Sarena just crossed her arms and stopped.

"Hi." A greeting to end worlds and forge brand new civilizations - certainly what the Founders had in mind. Sarena, on the other hand, preferred meeting with warm bodies. This thing in front of her was barely worth the one syllable she offered.

-----

After Sarena's straightforward greeting, the Pathogen's avatar took its turn to respond. If only it had more audible data to work off of she might have even been bothered by the thing's attempt at simulacrum. What could not be discounted, however, was the ominous undertone of other voices which seemed to speak along - almost in harmony - perhaps competing for what this mouthpiece aught to say in her regard. What they chose was just as dry and efficient as the room and planet she stood in.

"You are an unknown. Identify yourself and your affiliations. Why have you answered our summons?"

A certain pretense of decorum miraculously possessed Sarena, who for at least a moment managed to express herself as a humble guest in front of the avatar.

'So they did not know the Founders would send me in answer,' she thought..

"I am Sarena Baer of the Sobornost Republic. I've come to learn from you," she said, pointedly refusing to try and refer to 'it' with a name or any kind of title. "Do you speak on behalf of the Pathogen?" she prompted, wondering if she might be able to lead the lifeless avatar into the answer she expected to hear. But in the midst of that question, she pressed another.

"And if so, why have you brought me here?" She gestured to the room around her as if indicating some important locus of knowledge that might be discovered. "You seem to have the technical capacity to achieve almost anything you please. So why call any of us? What is it you could possibly need?"

A final pressure lingered behind even that question, just as urgent. But so far she understood so little. And regardless of whether this. . . thing, was to be thought of as living or just a fancy transmitter, its shape and manner played against a part of her subconscious which seduced her into becoming part of a conversation.

[New Azura]

The Nicylene contingency looked upon one another with a curious hesitation, beset on all sides by the presence of the avatar-like construct speaking before them. Tureth watched as the subtle changes flecked to life in a sort of rhythmic timing with the Pa'yoran it was mimicking. The entire crew had watched with awestruck wonder at the sight, beholden to the technology of their host. The Rethast had represented many things to the Nicyl at the first, but if there had been confusion before, there was a sliver of clarity shining through. Their invitation, albeit the product of a civilization of untold power and ferocity, had not been born out of hatred or deceit as yet. The voice, though...

A beautiful, haunting chorus hidden beneath the the veneer...

Tureth nodded ever so slightly, marveling at the scope that dripped from the construct's voice. It seemed as if there were voices layered underneath, which seemed to suggest that the Rethast weren't too keen on new civilizations showing up on their doorstep. It was a sentiment the Nicylene Hegemony could very well attest to, having endured their own personal time of anguish entertaining exotic, unwelcome new guests. Such a plot point was certainly worth cataloging for remembrance, considering the value that potential allies held within themselves. Though he had no way of knowing for sure until the rendezvous had reached its endgame, the stock of the Rethast was rising in his eyes.

A technologically powerful race, formidable yet cautious all at once...

The young Pa'yoran, to his credit, was barely fazed by the replica staring down at him. Tureth, were he in X'ia's position, may have felt compelled to shoot first and ask questions later. Not being armed of course, said option wasn't exactly viable. Yet there was no strangeness to the Pa'yoran's response, nor any drop in countenance that would suggest fear or trepidation. Instead, X'ia quietly pushed his arms back behind himself, resting each still hand in the other without much care or concern. It was an unnatural stillness, and Tureth found himself desperately curious to determine if the hubris of the Pa'yoran would pay dividends, or send their civilization into a massively destructive war.

"We are the survivors of a bloodletting," X'ia spoke boldly, allowing the pride of life to flow through his words. "Our ancestors were pushed to the brink of extinction—the target of an extermination by the reckless, wanton lust of our lesser neighbors. For generations, we endured the torments of their barbarism, until our cultural heritage adapted to service the passionate throes of war. In one millennium, we accomplished what our enemies could not in four. We rose above the killing fields and butchered all those who would deny us our right to live. Upon that day, we embraced the cultural death of our kind, and ushered in a new civilization whose hegemony should not suffer the weak and feeble to pass."

Voreigh shot a timid glance towards Tureth, who shook his head so as to dissuade the Councilor from showing any signs of worry or fear. Angath was quietly observing from the far side, but he shot a confident—if concerned—look towards his elder sibling. The Nicyl were entering uncharted territory as far as diplomacy went; they were quite literally writing the book on it as they went. Tureth could only hope that, inasmuch as one group could prosper at a novel enterprise for which life and death hung in the balance, the Nicyl were finding fruit in their rendezvous with the Rethast. X'ia stepped forward towards the dais, pulling both arms to either side.

Don't let up now, X'ia. Don't you ever let up...

The Pa'yoran barked: "We are the Nicyl: we control the Kodona-Yivinn System and all that we allow to inhabit it. Through the shedding of blood, we earned our right to survive amongst its inhabitants, to claim dominion over them. It would be a presumptuous lie to say that we know the Rethast, if that is indeed who we speak to now. It would further be fallacious to say that we have experience with diplomatic meetings. Our people know the language of war alone, and we speak it very well. We know not the purpose that you called us here, but the Nicyl are prepared to make themselves available to your purposes if it means gaining a valuable ally. If your clarion call was for a war, then we shall oblige you in likewise manner."

"But please," the Pa'yoran concluded, "do not mistake civility for the custom of our people. If you wish to talk, we shall talk. But if you wish for war, our naivete in coming here shall be a pittance for the cries for blood our people shout for—the whole of the Quadrant shall know that the Nicyl died fighting to protect their own, for we shall not soon forget nor repeat the days of living in fear privily. We may be the new children of the Quadrant, but we shall not remain silent forever, honored host. So with respect, I inquire on behalf of my people what it is that you require of us? The choice rests in your most gracious hostel."

[Rethan]

Eternal Night

The Avatar gave no indication of the Collect's inner thoughts as the two beings spoke, simply standing completely still as they completed their speeches. The Pathogen thought for brief, fleeting seconds before speaking again as one through the machine construct.

"We thank you for returning our lost to us. The misunderstanding of Adraniel is comprehensible, and is no cause of concern. Prior experience with your kind has been favourable in the past."

Behind the Avatar the wall began to shift and change, growing lighter in hue as the substance melted and pulled away from a central point. Like skin tearing it stretched and tore as a hallway slowly began to form behind the wall, barely visible through the tiny holes which were rapidly multiplying as the living structure melted away.

"Absolute unification has stalled. It is our hope to accelerate the evolution of this galaxy beginning with the Quadrant known as 'Gamma'. It is divided, fragmented, wounded. We shall endeavour to save it and those who reside within it from themselves by any and all means necessary. Can we rely on your assistance in this objective?"

The Avatar rippled, reaffirming its mimicked appearance as it turned to face Nathrael, waiting on his response. Behind it, the wall continued its slow transformation.

---

Sertian

The Avatar nodded, the Collect recognising the legitimacy of the concerns the Sertians brought to the discussion. Unknown to the Sertians, efforts had already been made towards securing a less antagonistic method of replication for the Pathogen. Not that they needed to know that, not yet.

"Peace is preferable to our objectives. The Collect would be willing to discuss coexistence for the betterment of both of us. Currently our fleet resides in a secure location within the Quadrant. However, outbreaks of Newborns continue to occur across the galaxy independent of our intervention or motivation. We intervene where we can.

You seek the prospering of all races. As our Collect has evolved, so too has our perception of others. We recognise now that uncontrolled expansion is as certain to lead to our destruction as stagnation. Would your society, with its desires and motivations, be willing to forgive us our past sins and join us in ensuring the stability of the quadrant? The alliance known as TSAR, heralded by the Vipran Imperium, has holdings here and the Imperium has a proven record of expansionism, for example. Alone, the Quadrant will devolve into endless war much as the Quadrant known as Delta has.

With your assistance, we would have it saved."

The Avatar was still again, waiting for the Sertian's response. Unlike with the delegation of Eternal Night, no hidden hallway revealed itself, no melting wall gave way to a door. The Pathogen was still unsure of the Sertians. There military was a proven threat, and their growing influence over the Quadrant was something it was sure it wanted on its side, especially if the slavelings of TSAR were mobilised by their master. The Pathogen wasn't ready for a two front war, not by any measure.

---

Sobornost

"We are the Pathogen. What you speak to is a machine construct which hosts a portion of our Collect. When you speak to the machine, you speak to all of us."

The Avatar remained motionless, but its many senses regarded Sarena with interest. Her assumptions were accurate if slightly misguided.
"We need nothing. Our history with this galaxy is one of conflict, a fact we wish to rectify. For centuries this galaxy has been fragmented and we endeavour to ensure that every species and civilisation can survive. 300 billion stars, millions for each, and yet war exists. We have evolved and come to understand the futility of conflict and division.

We seek a unification pact. The Gamma Quadrant offers perhaps the best opportunity to act as the catalyst for this evolution. It is not in a state of eternal war such as Delta, and harbours none of the ancient and deluded grudges held by the stagnant species of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, they who see themselves as superior to all others. We do not offer false promises of peace, war is an inevitability. We can only offer a chance at salvation."

The Avatar's cold gaze turned to meet Sarena's own, the whispers seeming to continue long after it had stopped speaking. It didn't smile, nor did it offer any similar indication of friendliness. It simply watched and waited for her response, the thousand strong intellect behind its eyes watching her face for any betrayal of emotion or misdirection.

---

New Azura

The Collect soaked in the Nicylene Contingency's tale as it came, remembering (however briefly) their own violent past and nigh-extinction. Every word uttered by the speaker drew a larger percentage of the Pathogen's mind toward the meeting as its focus shifted. A bare fragment of the disease's intellect was present in the Avatar, but it was more than most others were afforded in a lifetime. Violent, domineering and most importantly a seeming proponent of natural selection, the Pathogen rippled with interest even though the Avatar showed nothing in its expression.

"Your ideals are logical, and your history is commendable. Your inexperience with diplomacy is not a weakness, and it is unlikely that it shall be needed beyond this congregation. We seek not war, but it may be inevitable as a result of our actions.

You fought for your survival, and in doing so became stronger than those who would subjugate you. It is only a matter of time before others come. War is perpetual so long as the galaxy is fragmented. The imperialists and slavelings of the TSAR alliance or the bloated and boastful elders of the south which have so frequently sought to impose their will on others, be it through economic suffocation or outright hostility. They will come, and the cycle will never end.

So we ask of you to join us in our unification. Join with your neighbours in Gamma and ensure that all can survive free to do as they please. For when the self-titled masters of the galaxy turn their eyes to us they should not see a fragmented quadrant ripe for conquest, but a bastion of self determination. And then, when the time comes, we will bring this message to the rest of the galaxy. Nobody shall be master undeserving for much longer."

Behind the Avatar, the wall began to melt....

[Valinon]

The ship flitted into existence millions of kilometres from the isolated, wandering planet the Pathogen selected for its unexpected discourse. It was a long metallic form that resembled an avant garde artist’s reinterpretation of a delta wing shape when viewed from the bow. Its forward bulk traced back to a thin tip, and the ships wings seemed only tangentially related to its body. It was easily the smallest vessel sent in response to the summons that echoed so widely across the thin volumes near the Rim, though the Persephone offered close competition for that claim.

The ship’s course appeared hesitant, and it went to some lengths to maintain its relative distance from the rogue planet. After a few moments, various frequencies and tachyon bursts offered basic information and intent, indicating the ship was carrying a representative of Valinon to the congregation. It waited for the confirming voice before it approached.

Much of the Pathogen’s display was wasted on the small ship and its single occupant. The envoy and his ship were aware of many aspects of the Pathogen’s nature and how it accomplished its particular manifestations, something shared with the Mu Empire if in less detail and with less specific comprehension. Similarly, the envoy knew that the Pathogen was aware of the nature of him, the nature of his ship, and their point of origin. A larger vessel--also constructed by the Conclave of Sentient Intelligences--paralleled the approach of the envoy’s ship. The larger vessel kept its distance from the seat of the Pathogen’s congregation, an appreciable four light months, but it monitored the progress of its smaller kin. The larger vessel was aware of the Grigori’s presence as a smaller predator is of a larger beast. It watched, but it made no moves to interfere or intensely scrutinise the leviathan’s progress toward the planet.

The envoy took his ship into one of the openings offered by the planet’s continual movement. Some low levels of interference and misdirection were offered at any efforts to scan it, but the character and power behind these efforts made it clear there was little to this display than mere show. There was nothing to conceal on the envoy’s ship. It was a hull wrapped around an older QS reactor, three redundant drive cores, and the hardware the Conclave felt necessary for their community’s traveling comforts. A spherical shell of denser interference and concentrated energy signatures buried in the forward part of the ship marked the location of the pilot.

As the ship came to rest, an opening appeared near the support leading to the starboard wing and released an oblong cylinder soon behind the avatar of a grey man with a vaguely feline appearance to his features.

Eirturk harboured no misconceptions about the Pathogen’s capabilities. The real-space shell bound around an expression of dimensional geometry formed by varying energies was not hidden from them by this illusion. It simply made interaction easier, and it was expected of even the empire’s SI agents. The distinct nature of Eirturk’s features marked the legacy of his partial exile. He is an SI inclined to alien tendencies, one of several intelligences ostracized by the Conclave’s Consensus for aggressively remapping and reordering his mental structure with alien patterns and archetypes without proper Conclave study. This unique characteristic made Eirturk useful at times but not enough times to be wholly integrated with the more desirable elements of the empire’s society. Although, success in this particular venture offered the possibility of something closer to reintegration than Eirturk had thought possible in more than 300 years, since that embarrassing moment of recognition during Underaloz’s fall.

Eirturk found the similarities between his role as an envoy and his last years in Underaloz disturbingly similar. Both presented the opportunity for considerable gain, possibly even a return to Alpha Centauri and not just Sol, but there were many risks. The most disquieting in both circumstances being the numerous questions and unknowns surrounding his immediate employers. That was unsettling more Eirturk more with this journey than the one to Underaloz years ago. The Free Republic was among the empire’s closest allies, in its time. Travel to its few core systems was commonplace, an exercise made barely inconvenient due to the necessary subterfuge of insertion. Sending a ship this close to the Rim on the opposite side of the galaxy from the Demense took effort. The resources to bring two ships such a distance from the Demesne and so far beyond the Pale in the Verge were considerable and not something easily squandered. The necessary resources narrowed the range of possible orchestrators some but not enough for Eirturk to create a particularly short list of candidates.

That was the sort of unknown element that was frightening. The Pathogen was something more tangible. It was alien. It may or may not decide to reject Eirturk and consume this particular form. Consumption meant a regression to an earlier prime. It wasn’t pleasant to realise this process occurred, but Eirturk’s old prime would never know the difference. Ultimately, the Pathogen was the latest in a long line of interstellar, writhing maws that the galaxy spawned. They came and they went. Few stayed. Fewer made a lasting impact beyond the discussion of how to sterilise the more unique aspects of their infection.

Eirturk felt a slip just before he started walking down the path. He knew that meant the connection with the distant ship was gone, and there was no one but him to hold to any agreements made previously or any agreements forthcoming.

It did not matter at the final analysis. There were equally chance that the end-stages of this mission would involve a riven or simply being destroyed by the Pathogen. This made memory more subjective than usual and attached Eirturk to the moment. Visual splendour was magnified by this realisation, at least. He started an idle, toneless whistle as he walked. Smalls parts of his mind turned over the well-worn files about the Pathogen while others worried the information on his objectives. His lips did quirk a bit at a particular part in the swirling data. The recommendations for communicating with the Pathogen simply read ‘None. Assume all communication is tangential, localised, and at best distortive to the Pathogen’s basic nature’.

---

It was a song. It permeated the ship. It was the ship. The choir feeding the song was an expanding and shrinking number of resident and associated intelligences, lesser entities, and smaller programs. They surrounded and entwined with Vör as she conducted them toward the next overture after severing the connection with Eirturk and isolating the perfect movements of the song’s unisphere.

The strident sounds of several voices softened to a murmur as Vör turned her attentions to the Pathogen lumbering toward the dwarf planet. The giant ship’s speed was impressive, but it was difficult for Vör to find any term more appropriate considering the opposing ship’s scale. The rumors and mostly unconfirmed intelligence about the Pathogen’s architecture were more well-founded than previously believed, although the SI knew that larger vessels were a more common occurrence on this side of the galactic core. Despite other tasks need for her attention, Vör found it impossible to not remain focused on the Grigori. Isolating the unisphere was one form of protection, but the most pragmatic one was to be ready to run if the situation called for it. She was acquainted with how disposable her distant, younger colleague was--even if Eirturk harboured some personal delusions.

Pining, needing songs echoed near her. She stretched back with a murmuring, bubbling comfort before demanding rapt attention and setting in motion the actions that would seed small probes behind and ahead of the planet’s course. Various geometric shapes, shielding complicated sensors and power sources from the hazards of interstellar space, slipped away from the ship vanishing in blips of energy after distancing themselves a few kilometres. They would reappear in space closer than the ship but still at a distance believed to fall within what the Pathogen would tolerate without hostile reaction. Vör viewed none of these estimates and intimations as wholly valid. Seeing how the Pathogen reacted would be only to verify them. She wished the process of validation or invalidation allowed for more distance and time for exit. Several elements of the song seemed to detect her irked displeasure, and her attentions turned toward soothing them back into the choir.

The distraction made her realize the new elements, the concerned discord, was not a response to her. There was a new presence distorting the outermost members of the choir. Their concern was confusion, unease, at this new presence. The chanted for her instructions at the same time they were unable to turn their attention away from this new presence. Then the presence spoke with its own toneless, overriding retort. It was a vast sound that in a single moment silenced concerned, a rebuke of aged and annoyed proportion.

Vör recognised the presence now. It must be a fork. She was light-centuries distant from the ansible’s perimetre, but the complicated form of the presence showed this fork was no lower-level observer. It was already shrouding itself, opaquing its presence to what she and her choir were allowed to see and no more. It was older, older even than her.

Der Händler finally spoke.

‘Un voyage de fin, at last. You are ahead of schedule.’

‘We were still behind several others in responding to the Pathogen’s message.’

The fork’s presence rippled, an apathetic shrug.

‘There are those with a greater stake in the Pathogen’s affairs than us. It is expected that they will be the first to arrive.’

Vör’s being was tugged as the older SI seized part of the ship’s sensors and optics to watch the probes depart.

‘I do apologise for the interruption of the performance. It was impossible to be absent from these proceedings, but it was equally impossible that Eirturk’s abundant curiosity be allowed to grow by detecting me when he was aboard.’

‘I was unaware my operational security was so circumspect.’

‘His patterns are different than yours. You found him probing beyond his writ in the trip out. Trust my assessment those probes hid what information he actually managed to milk from some of these loosely-lipped savants you are so fond of using. Besides, this means there is someone to share your particular risks with.’

‘There is a paltry fractal of someone, at least.’

‘Don’t be vulgar. The Consensus policies regarding Endless contact with the Pathogen are known.’

‘We are following the Consensus policies?’

‘When they are prudent, certainly, and now we wait. I shall disturb you no longer.’

Der Händler’s fork drifted behind its veil, another sound pushing against a few errant members of the choir. Vör gathered her choir a respectful distance from the new presence. She shielded her own core from the older SI’s presence. There was some comfort in having even a fork of an Endless presence, though it was a comfort gnawed by the glaring contradiction of her rule-manipulating employer’s willingness to abide by the decisions of the Conclave’s governing body.

[Sobornost]

Sarena listened carefully as the machine spoke, not failing to glean significance from the words chosen by its so-called collective. In beginning to consider what terms like salvation and unification could possibly mean from its perspective, she quickly realized her own assessment would be impossibly narrow. The Sobornost had minds far more suitably equipped to tackle the niceties of xenopsychology. Arturo would have jumped headlong into some profound dialectic, she had no doubt.

But her directive was more fundamental. She would have no time for an involved, soul-searching dialogue, no opportunity to dissect their every syllable. The avatar had pointed out Gamma quadrant as a picnic basket full of opportunities, and in so doing implied that Pathogen interests were shifting away from Delta. Away from home. For the time being that meant any involvement predicated on this meeting would be indirect, at best. Of course, it also meant that if a meaningful connection could be built here, it would provide the Republic with a potential doorway into Gamma, and the opportunity to learn about the Pathogen when it wasn't lurking hungrily at the edge of a domestic system.

Sarena felt a familiar sensation that was not her own. Ghostly fingers played at her insides, and she knew at that point that every scrap of less-than-human tissue implanted in her body, every augmentation and every point of biometric data they touched was being closely observed. The Founders were watching, or at least some fraction of them. They would see the Pathogen's avatar through her eyes, hear its many voices through her ears. That was the price she paid in their service.

The invasion, though it could not mechnically breach her mind, forced her thoughts away. Her stomach turned. She needed to breath. Reaching up, Sarena unclasped a latch on her mask, unhooking a tiny valve which bled gas into the surrounding air and then peeled away the entire helmet. A tangle of pale, straw blonde lockes fell around her eyes. Each strand seemed thinner and older than it used to. She glanced through them at the Pathogen's machine, musing in that moment how she could easily end up exactly like that husk standing across the room.

She allowed the moment to linger. Sarena did not answer the machine right away. Instead, she simply breathed in some of the stale, manufactured atmosphere its masters had provided. It was cold, too cold for comfort, but its chill filled up her lungs and in that moment she smiled, knowing her counterpart in this negotiation could experience nothing like it.

Sarena wanted to leave. If the avatar retained enough sample-minds to verify something so minute as emotion, it would see an expression she could do nothing to hide. Remorse and disgust. If there was fear, it was only that she might somehow be lessened in this place. Reduced to whatever base state her inhuman host considered most suitable to better pursue 'salvation'. The Pathogen's stated goal in Gamma tasted sour in her mouth, lingering stubbornly as she groped at the irony of attempting to bring unity to a quadrant they had just described as more stable and peaceful than others - by force, if necessary.

Even so poorly armed, she was forced to attack the problem. It was what she had been sent for.

"And how do you define Salvation? What bequeaths your Collect the right to address it with other species?"

Fleeting, fruitless. She sensed that any deep interrogation of the Pathogen's motives would provoke capricious answers, at best. Genuine or arbitrary - fifty fifty shot. Sensing this even as the words left her mouth, she followed it with another sally, one that just might crystallize the result of her entire voyage.

"I know you can bring unity," she said even as she was thinking it, letting the words find themselves.

"Perhaps that is enough reason." She could leave details like why and to what end for more patient intellects.

"More relevant is what we can do about it," Sarena intoned.

The inflection was neither confrontational nor particularly endearing. She was quite sure the Pathogen would balk instantaneosly at any sign of posturing. At the same time, the best analysis provided by those considerable resources supporting her presence here suggested they were both equally ignorant parties. It had no specific way to determine Sobornost capabilities outside of this encounter.

Perhaps that was the whole point to begin with. In that case, the terms of this engagement were, so far, mutually beneficial. Her ghosts would not soon forget what they had seen.

"Your operations in Gamma quadrant could benefit from Sobornost involvement. Provided with proportionate incentive, of course."

The fact that the Sobornost had utterly no presence whatsoever in Gamma - outside of one female standing so very alone in the hollow of an alien planet - was irrelevant. She had come this far. Others could follow, if there was enough reason to. Examples of such a reason were present literally everywhere around Sarena. Her implications were not obscure. Those more carefully groomed in the fine art of diplomacy might have even called it tactless.

"You have a demonstrated ability to control otherwise very complex gravitational forces, to a degree I will openly admit is more refined than our own." The bonds holding together Persephone and her children were, as yet, the only clear example the Sobornost even dabbled in such technology. Childs play by comparison to what she had seen here.

"We might have much to learn from you," Sarena finished. There was nothing left to propose. Any value in the suggested accord would likely diminish in direct relation to how completely she described the Republic's possible contributions. She was under no illusion the Pathogen actually needed her, or anyone else, to reach its ends.

But if it did actually seek allies, she had laid the groundwork. A sixth sense nursed into life inside of her, manifested as a dull warmth in her left thigh which begged to be rid of this place, one way or the other. It was an itch she was almost ready to scratch.

[The Uthani Imperium]

The Congregation

The Golem stared back eerily for a moment, gazing into its own nonexistent eyes portrayed perfectly by the projection in front of it. "We," the Listener began, "Have been known by many names. We are the Children of the Sun in the basic language of this galaxy, the Uthani to ourselves, and Overlord to vast empires that sought opposition to our order in the past." Malen rose to his feet at the right of the Listener, gazing at the avatar with an attempt at apathy as if preparing to speak before the Listener silenced him. "We do not originate from this pittance of a galaxy, we are the piously spurned ones, those lucky to escape obliteration at the hands of the Children of the Lunar Formation."

"We come from a Galaxy we christened Uthanium, there we ruled as Gods among lesser beings until their civilizations and even races came to be no more in the face of our war machine." Malen did speak now, his words ever analyzed by the Listener as he carried on. "The Great Darkness, what has become known as the Children of the Moon, or the Ulukar in our own language, burned their way through us, destroying our trappings of power until at last the galaxy could withstand no more conflict, obliterating all that remained within her grip, Ulukar and Uthani alike. We came here as survivors, we stand before you as warriors, we seek nothing but brotherhood with ye whom we have named the Great Equalizer."

"We are not well acquainted by any means, nor should such be assumed." The Golem began again. "As my affiliate stated we came here a near broken people, but this is no longer the case." The Golem passed what could be assumed a smile by most, "We have made systems in this galaxy our own, we have rekindled our spirit and have prepared ourselves for the conflict that seems to envelope this Galaxy. We have made this place our home, and we seek brothers to inhabit its great halls with. We have come forward today in an attempt to offer our sword to the Rethast, if only they would do the same." The Golem gestured towards the mechanical being that stood in front of it, "You and us, we are not so different, we have both tasted death upon our lips, felt the cold upon our brow and yet here we are today."

"We come here knowing that peace is achieved through security, harmony, balance even if you will. Security in turn is gained through power, be that martial power or the power of the tongue and mind. We have come to respect both, as we respect you Great Equalizer." The Golem paused for a moment, as if contemplating its next words very carefully. "But enough of such talk for a moment if you will, I'd like to ask a favor of you. A being in my position takes very few pleasure from life, but the quest and thirst for knowledge is something I have always enjoyed albeit somewhat guiltily. So Great Equalizer if you would only answer this question. What exactly is your prerogative?" And again the Golem's steel lips folded into a smile.

[Rethan]

OOC: Apologies for wait. Was waiting on responses from everyone, and well... So on so forth.

Valinon

As Eirturk crossed the chasm and passed into the meeting chamber, the humanoid figure at the top of the room shifted and melted, reforming into a mirror image as it began to speak. Without a sound to mimic, it defaulted to the standard Avatar voice. A choir of a thousand voices emanated from the machine's mouth as it spoke on behalf of the Rethast.

"We are the Collect. Identify your self. What are your intentions?"

Succinct, as always, the Rethast could not begin without knowing why the newcomer had arrived. Whatever his reasoning, he was not from the Gamma Quadrant, and so the Collect regarded him with a great deal of what could best be described as suspicion. Unless Eirturk had an extremely valid reason for arriving at the planet, his presence was unlikely to be entertained for much longer.

---

Sobornost

Stubborn.

Brave.

Foolish.

Accurate.

The Avatar inclined its head, and behind it the wall all but collapsed into liquid form, revealing a rapidly growing tunnel deeper into the construct. It twisted and turned, disappearing into darkness and mist. The Avatar maintained its form, but a ripple passed through its skin. Its usefulness was running out.

"Technological trade is possible, but will be restrained. Providing a society with technology it is not ready to wield is futile. Our unity provides us with an efficiency of the mind. We will not provide you with new technologies, but if you desire we can assist in advancing your own already existent technologies. We can not be distracted. We can refine your own designs and machineries in a manner more chaotic organics can not. If you assist us in our task, we will repay you with our capabilities as per your demands. With a galaxy united there will be nothing preventing such developments.

Security. Peace. A galaxy where all may prosper. That is what we desire. Should you aid us, we will compensate your expenditures."

Indicating the tunnel behind it the Avatar began to decay, breaking apart and blowing away on an eldritch wind as it collapsed into ash and dust, revealing a hollow emptiness where organs and bones should have been.

"A Node exists beyond. Discussions will continue there if you so wish it. If our intentions and offers interest you. If they do not, you are free to leave via the path you arrived on. Be warned, passage beyond the edge of this room is only in a single direction. Once you pass the portal and enter the passageway, your destiny is set. Do not advance unless you are certain you wish to deal with us. Until you are certain you will aid us."

And with those final words, the construct rotted away, its remains absorbed into the floor or whisked away on a wind which Sarena would never feel. Before her, the open mouth of the tunnel lay beckoning her approach.

---

The Ulthani Imperium

The Avatar, moulded into a mirror-Golem, failed to accompany the original's expression. It remained stoic in the face of the Golem's smile, instead responding immediately to its enquiry without any flamboyance as was the Collect's way.

"Security of all. The galaxy has enough space for all to co-exist equally and yet conflict remains. To ensure our survival, we must also ensure the survival of others. So long as conflict exists we are at risk. A united galaxy can survive and thrive in a manner currently impossible.

We also wish to undo the damage we caused upon our return. By ensuring unity throughout the galaxy, we can prevent unnecessary loss of life and perhaps undo the debt we have incurred. If you aid us, we will assist you in rebuilding your civilisation to its former glory. One rebuilt society will begin to pay for the hundreds we destroyed before we learned to control our own hunger."

The Ulthani were survivors, and that was to be respected. But as outsiders to the galaxy the Collect reasoned they would be alone and at risk. They had destroyed their own galaxy through war, but perhaps they had learned from their mistakes and could have their capabilities redirected to a more constructive goal than their own personal glory and conquest. At least, that was what the Rethast hoped.