The command unit was abuzz with debate.
Keith, who had just finished placing several cloaked sensor buoys to form a perimeter around the galaxy, was now debating the Dominion's next steps, now that their initial plan of "Minimal interference, maximum stealth" had been thrown out of a speeding train.
"So let's get this straight, now our little display has likely gotten at LEAST the interest of every spacefaring polity this side of the supercluster, our plan to play things super safe has been thrown out of the window."
"Hell, probably thrown out of the window since that creepy indestructible statue started stalking us. So I suggest we make a more active effort to bring back something useful for High Command at the very least. From what I recall, the AI mentioned not being able to fully scan everything in its report, let's rectify that."
CORRECT, NEEDS CLOSER
"What are you trying to suggest, Captain?"
"Let's pick an interesting hotspot and send a scout ship over, I was thinking a single fighter should do it, as long as it can get close enough the sensors should provide enough detail to allow the AI to breach any network."
"Not the craziest plan, but what if they decide to attack our fighter? Fighters aren't large enough to have an EMCF and therefore aren't cloaked. In addition we aren't connected to the Dominion network and therefore are stuck with immutable copies of our standard designs.
"That's fine, it will be a good test of character to see who attacks and who does not. We can have the fighter retaliate to test their capabilities in a controlled environment as well, and it's a great opportunity to get us data."
"As long as you're sure about this..."
Keith waved him off. "The AI can pick where we scan."
The CE had a rare, gleeful expression. "Fret not, this will be interesting."
Immediately as the conversation closed, the AI began fabricating a fighter. A small and simple thing, it was birthed into existence near instantaneously in a brief flash of light.
The AI pondered which target to pick, until eventually settling on the large multi-fronted battle raging at Ridley's Rest.
Yes, that would do nicely, so many diverse technologies and ideas to assimilate!
Ridley's Rest
The rather innocuous looking fighter folded in a few billion km from the station, its tiny folding drive now out of commission for a long time, making escape impossible. But this was more than an acceptable risk for the AI.
Immediately it began voraciously partaking in the consumption of data, its small but comprehensive scanner arrays drinking in the full details of the battle. But this was far from enough for the AI, the fighter would need to get within mere thousands of km of its target(s) to deep scan them.
This would put it well within the weapons and sensor range of any polity that was currently partaking in the fight, this was also an acceptable risk.
The AI decided on the Octavian's first, more specifically their pride and joy: the battered Sword of the Imperium. It willed the fighter closer as it quickly closed the distance, deftly evading any obstacles in its path as it parked extremely close in relative terms, to the Dreadnought.
The fighter began scanning every subatomic nook and cranny of the ship, quickly formulating software and hardware based backdoors in the system. The AI then began consuming all of the data the ship had to offer, without a care in the world for authentication, authorization or being caught.
The AI cared little if its very careless intrusion was noticed, it welcomed any potential hostilities as they would serve as an additional opportunity to gather data.
After exhausting all the Sword had to offer, the AI moved on to its next target, Ridley's Rest itself. Whilst the Zravvisk were incredibly primitive, their varied and ramshackle tech base almost certainly held at least one minor footnote of a development the Dominion might have missed and this was enough for the AI to care.
The AI quickly repeated the same process from before, finding the Zravvisk even easier to hack even as its massive speed advantage started to fade with time and it felt itself start to be watched by almost everyone present. The AI briefly pondered what "embarrassment" felt like before dismissing the irrelevant stream of thought.
The AI decided it would likely get away with one more target before being "engaged" in some manner and settled on the strange machine race, known as the Decepticons.
Their large vessels would prove to have the most robust information security of the lot and their systems were by far the most unconventional. Though it was still child's play for the AI, its intrusion was most certainly noticed by the automatons.
The Decepticons were fascinating to the AI, their data banks bordered on schizophrenia, with many seemingly random and unrelated technologies thrown together. Most of the underlying theorems barely made sense and it appeared that literal magic was involved in at least some of their "technology".
The AI greedily sucked up these juicy morsels that seemed to come almost straight out of a fictional story before finishing, thoroughly satisfied with the data it had received.
Of course, the AI now realised that the likelihood of an Everyone disliked that scenario was quite high and it warmed up the fighter's weapons systems in preparation for a response.
Unknown?
Pontiff Brobarious was angry. To be outsmarted by such simpletons was completely ludicrous. An insult of the highest order.
Oh how he would get his revenge. But not now, there were more pressing matters to attend to.
Brobarious found himself flung randomly through space and time, his saving throw- an uncalculated teleport, activated purely on instinct moments before his ship was consumed by the very void he sought power from.
Brobarious chalked it up to his casual probability correction, a handy side effect of psychic dominance. But the time for pondering was over, for the Pontiff found himself manifest once again, feet planting down on some sort of hull.
"What is this? Some sort of star ship?! Just my luck to appear somewhere that isn't empty. I could've had a new ship transmuted in weeks if I had some breathing room. Oh well, whatever is on here better be human." Brobarious thought to himself.
The Pontiff, somewhat miffed, quickly scanned his surroundings. And then he saw something.
His vision went red, his body physically shook with fury and he was wreathed in a raging blue aura, his raw psychic energy coalescing into physical form in response to his fury.
Space itself began to violently oscillate around him.
He saw... Things, inhuman things, degenerate things. Whatever thoughts Brobarious was having were swept away in an impossible, irrational, insatiable bloodlust. A bloodlust so potent it took physical form, likely inducing immense fear and unease in anything within a kilometre at least.
