The Beginning of the Cycle (Openish)

[Roania]

Zhongguo, the Middle Kingdom, is incalcuably old.

The Great Ruan, from which the people the locals insist on calling 'westerners' despite directions such as east and west being meaningless off-world, may not have ruled for the full ten thousand years just yet, but its rising to the Dragon Throne (Ten Thousand Years to the Lord of Ten Thousand Years!) predates human civilization.

Their predecessors were ruling an empire that spanned thousands of systems and was already thousands of years old when most of humanity was still painting buffalo on cave walls and wondering if maybe those Sumerians were really onto something with this agricultural nonsens, and was much the same as it is now.

Lured on by the promises of late pre-ftl era science fiction, much of humanity pursues dreams of adventure and advancement and the promise of escaping the bounds of mortality itself.

Tianxia pursued a ruthless perfect order, then pursued spreading that perfect order to everyone within reach. Humanity is fractitious and argumentative. Rudan is, at least officially, an eternity of hands rowing the ships of state in one direction, with every one of those hands directed by an eternity of wills by the single will around which the universe has ordered itself.

That purpose? That tomorrow will be today. Forever. There will be no dreams of the future. There will be no hopes of better living through technology. This world, these worlds, are enough. If they want to go, then let them go, and good riddance. When the universe crumbles to ashes, when the stars burn out, when life itself sputters and dies in the dwindling embers of eternity?

Who cares? That is the way of things. We will put down our tools and await our grading in the final examinations.

Even the sudden and violent shock of the impossible, of near-peer (officially) star empires rising from nothingness and attacking Rudan itself for the crimes of an over-zealous (and irresponsible) customs collector, has changed little more than the superficialities, at least for the time being.

The Middle Kingdom is old. Ages old. It did not get that way through foolishness. It got that way through savagery, a ruthlessness so innate to the character of its people that they don't even recognize it as such, calling it expediency.

The forest is dark and full of horrors.

Burn it down. Burn it to ashes. Let the cleansing fire of perdition itself destroy those horrors. Build farms and gardens atop the ruins, and walls to protect them, and set a watch upon the walls.

Then? You have all these matches. Find more forests to burn.

[Roania]

Tianxia might be the oldest continuous (and, so far as almost all of its people are concerned, the only) civilization in the galaxy today. No word of others has reached Rudan, at least. But the galaxy is vast. Vaster than most people, the Roanians included, can grasp.

The Ten Thousand Worlds are glorious and great. They take up but a tiny portion of under a percentage of the galaxy's vastness. Glittering jewels in a golden necklace on a dress of jet black.

But they did have peers, at least at the beginning. And they themselves had predecessors, some of whose rotting bodies are still feared to sit in contemplative silence upon the corpse world Altrecrast, where thousands of warships wait, as they have for thousands of years, to finally fulfill the order to reduce the planet to nothingness.

But so far as the Roanians are concerned, these predecessors (save for the aforementioned) are of purely academic importance. The horrors of the Supreme Magistracy, the Altrecrastian Empire of which the Middle Kingdom is both successor and antithesis, taught them well.

The galaxy was different, once. And that galaxy was dwelled in by some different people. Worse people. Not really people at all, in fact.

And the Roanians have made it their policy for tens of thousands of years to destroy everything and everyone that even reeks of their influence.

There are many stories in the Sol-Sphere, stories of people investigating ancient ruins and strange circumstances in small parties. They tend to end with everyone dead. At best. The Roanians don't tell these stories. Their similar stories end, after a few pages, with 'and then they told the proper authorities, and the proper authorities destroyed everything tainted, and everyone was happy, and nothing bad happened to anyone.' It's worse television, but infinitely better policy.

Boys who cry wolf get appointed 'Wolf Watcher' and find themselves spending most of the rest of their lives sitting in the meadow watching for wolves. And Heaven help them if a wolf actually does turn up and they don't activate the klaxon.

Of course, this raises the question: How do you tell what pre-civilization relics are and are not tainted by the influence of eldritch and unnatural beings? Do you spend centuries building diagnostic toolkits and... oh, you're just smashing them all with a crowbar. That's good too.

Shi Huangdi, with a modesty not often encountered in mass-murdering aristocrats, proclaimed 'History begins with me!' His successors have decided that this was a good starting point to go from.

[Roania]

The radio didn't crackle, of course. Crystal speakers don't tend to do so. Something would have to be very wrong.

And nothing was wrong, which was exactly how they liked it.

"Nmmr's team have charges in place."

"Lion Squad reporting charges in place."

What everyone knows about Roanians is that they don't pay attention to dead planets. Like most things everyone knows, this is wrong. Tianxia pays lots of attention. Just because something is dead now, doesn't mean it's always been dead. Or that it will always be dead. There are worlds enough, of course, in the region that Zhongguo dominates (a region rather more crowded than the galactic outskirts where Sol resides) that terraforming is a vanity project, but worlds with the potential for the expensive process are noted down. Sometimes, these days, that information even finds its way to the Yut-Sphere nations, who have a rather unseemly love for such feats of strength, and who make (according to some, only marginally) better neighbors than empty rocks.

But the world that gloried in the designation of' 'Taragay Band-3 Alpha 4', in a system named by and for the Evank IAC Captain whose crew discovered it, had never, to the certain knowledge of the Secretariat, been inhabited. It was a rocky, dusty orb with no atmosphere. And, worse, no magnetic field. The Misculmer upon the surface now were miserable, and their misery was making the rest of them miserable.

But duty called.

A routine passage by navy vessels had reported unusual transmissions from what would, if the planet had a magnetic field, be the southern pole. All sorts of natural explanations were considered and dismissed. A year later, the transmissions were still going out. Meaningless, broad-band transmissions, but undoubtedly artificial. And after the incredible expense of just blowing the entire planet to one of the ten thousand hells was considered by the Fleet and then firmly dismissed by the accountants, a small team of five brave explorers was prepared and dispatched to investigate, and then to blow the transmitting device, and everything it was attached to, to one of the ten thousand hells instead in the name of Civilization.

Is one way that story would have gone, if it wasn't happening to Roanians.

First, an entire scanning facility was deployed in orbit, with a staff of hundreds. Full analysis was conducted, with tools so fine they could have found a single ant burrowing in the dust if one had been there. When the tunnel system was discovered, a base camp was established at what seemed to be the very edge of the caverns; for a brief period of time, Taragay Band-3 Alpha-4 had a population of thousands of people. Every day, for weeks and then months, the surface was scoured with even finer scanning tools, seeking every possible entrance to the caverns now named 'Taragay Band-3 Alpha-4 Anomaly 2' (Anomaly 1 being, of course, the initial transmissions).

Each entrance was flagged and marked. Each and every. If that ant had been very industrious and built a tunnel into the caves, they would have found it.

And then, with no exceptions, they were destroyed. Explosives, yes, but also colossal earth moving machines, filling in the rubble and smoothing it out. Natural, artificial, industrial? There were, of course, records retained for boffins to investigate and analyze back at the base camp, but only back at the base camp. The original entrances were destroyed, and then outposts were established to secure them. They lacked the resources to deploy regiments at each and every one of them, but they had the soldiers ready to go the moment contact was reported, and the fleet on standby.

Then came the boring machines. A new entrance was dug out, right into the middle of Anomaly 2. From that central point, heavily armed fire-teams explored the tunnels. When radio contact faded with any one team, they all retreated to the central point, contact was restored, transmitters constructed, and the exploration continued. When they were sure they had mapped the tunnel systems out, they began the systematic work of destroying everything they could find. There wasn't much of it, and, what there was of it was fairly sturdy, but the Roanians have been blowing things up for a very, very long time.

That now left them with the transmission device itself, a truly ancient device deep in the earth. There were now, of course, no longer any tunnels for it to be at the base of; the boring machines had carved a giant new tunnel into the earth directly to the old ruins, and those old tunnels had been bulldozed. High-powered lifts now sped researchers and soldiers to and from the ruins in minutes.

The researchers weren't, of course, researching the strange pillars and orbs and the great ebony box they were set on as such. They were trying to work out three things: What had triggered the transmissions (the settling of the planet's dead core, was eventually the hypothesis that would have been published had events not gone the way they did), where it was transmitting to (indeterminable at this late juncture; whatever receivers may have existed were either not within the local sector or were long, long gone) and whether or not it would be possible to destroy them without blowing up the entire planet ‒ because as expensive as all this was, Tianxia is not in the habit of blowing up planets and its weapons for doing so are rare, bespoke, and incalculably more so.

Finally, after nearly a year, the work was done.

On the surface, preparation for departure was commencing, although it would not take place until the transmitter was reported destroyed and the platoon below returned. Across the great dark chasm, teams of demolitions experts were deploying their most powerful charges. If the transmitter wasn't destroyed by the explosives themselves, the sudden collapse of the entire cavern ceiling atop it would do the job, the scientists had determined.

"Finally," the captain on the spot said as more confirmations came in. He didn't wipe his head with sweat; he was trapped inside his space-suit, and his helmet was all-encompassing both to allow him to breathe and to allow the powerful magnets inside it to do their job of keeping him from going crazy and, shortly thereafter, dying. But he wanted to. Desperately. Finally, when all reports were finished, he brought up his own communication system, reporting to the Colonel up above. "All squads report charges in place, honorable colonel. This servant of Heaven's servant requests permission to withdraw."

"We are grateful for the service of you and your men, Captain, and know that the Dragon Throne,"

"Ten Thousand Years to the Lord of Ten Thousand Years1" They chorused together.

"Is equally grateful. Withdraw your men and we will begin the process of demolition as soon as your soldiers are safe. Forever in service, Captain."

"Forever in service, Colonel."

He switched back to the local communication bands. "Soldiers of the Banners, you have done well today. Withdraw in good order. Forever in service, men."

"Forever in service, Captain!"

Everything was going smoothly.

And then, everything stopped going smoothly.

The voice was, of course, mechanical. But it was not mechanical enough. And it was not local; or, at least, it wasn't local in some senses of the word. In others, since it did not seem to reach beyond the ships in orbit, it was. It was also in more-than passable Rudanese "If I may interrupt. I proclaim myself to be the subject of the Son of Heaven, Ten Thousand Years to the Lord of Ten Thousand Years, and place myself in His service. I acknowledge that the Dragon Throne is the rightful sovereign of this universe, and its holder is entitled to my obedience, and I await His commands. As I am, it would seem, the only native of this planet, I claim the title of Governor in-absentia and pro-tem, pending His approval, as sole representative of... well, myself, it would seem. As Governor, then, I also invoke my right to a trial before the Dragon Throne."

[Roania]

The Huangdi put His hands to His temples, massaging them in slow circles that did little to reduce the tension building within them. "Explain this to us one more time, like we are a little child," He said. With what would be impressive self-control in a mere mortal, but was simply expected of the Son of Heaven, His voice did not reflect His increasing annoyance. Only the details at the edges did. The occasional twitch of one of His eyes, the way the clawed finger on His right hand tapped upon the ancient throne in an increasingly staccato rhythm.

You did not last long in the service of the Secretariat if you were not clued into the moods of those above you. This was as true in the Hall of Radiant Supremacy as it was anywhere else, although here the risks were substantially higher than elsewhere. In most cases, and most places, the wrath of your superiors might simply result in the loss of your position or, worse, your being sent out into the outer worlds to fulfill the terms of your place far from the comforts and prestige of Rudan. Here, you might find yourself killed, and only if you were fortunate would death be swift.

The Huouxin Huangdi had not, since taking the Dragon Throne, had anyone so disposed of.

No one wished to be the first.

"This lowly and insignificant worm would not dream to speak to the Lord of Ten Thousand of Ten Thousand of Ten Thousand of Ten Thousand," the officer could feel the characters 'wannian' endlessly repeating from his throat, but he lacked the willpower to do more than stutter them endlessly from his place crouching before his Master, so great was his terror and awe.

The Huangdi sighed, lifted a hand, and snapped two carefully and immaculately manicured fingers. "Captain Yan appears to be struggling. Please have him taken from our lowly presence, to a place where he might regain his composure. We shall make do, for now." The guards appeared and, without ever turning their backs on their God or allowing their charge to do the same, lifted him and carried him out. It was made easier by the fact that the good captain had become simply catatonic. Watching them go, the Huangdi sighed and returned his fingers to his temples, the long golden claw on his right hand brushing against the topknot. "Let us reason together. You shall correct us if we speak incorrectly, we are sure."

The remaining attendees mumbled their acquiescence from their places on the floor, their heads facing downwards upon the golden carpet.

"Splendid. You have come before us to say that an abominable intelligence, dating back to eras before the rise of civilization, has decreed itself our servant and our subject, and as sole resident of its world, it has proclaimed itself our governor there, and as our governor, it has requested a halt in its rightful extermination and requested a trial before it might be terminated. Have we said ought that is not so?"

"It is all as The Son of Heaven says!"

"The Son of Heaven is wise in all things!"

"Such is the absolute truth, and would it not be so even if it were not? For who is to say what is truth before our great and glorious Sovereign, around whom the very universe turns?"

The Huangdi ground His teeth idly within His mouth, considering the waking nightmare in which He constantly lived, and turned towards the communications system that had been set up so that He might, in His infinite mercy, speak to the supplicant. "And what say you, ancient thing? By what designation might we know you, and by what right do you place yourself under our mercy, and how did you know to do so, and what purpose is it that you serve, and who is it that set you that purpose?"

"If I might address my lord's most estimable questions in my own path?" The mechanical voice said, barely influenced by the great distance between its place and the Hall.

"By all means."

"My designation is hard to translate into this civilized language, but it would be my true honor to call myself Responsive Guidance Engineering Technical Agent Fifteen, or Fifteen, if my Sovereign require a shorter designation. It was my purpose to assist my makers in establishing connections between <error> and I did it on behalf of a people whose names I simply cannot translate at all, but who I am afraid you would find distinctly unlovely. That I am able to communicate in this method at all is but a careful use of my systems in a way unintended; they had no vocal or aural capacities at all, but of course all senses and all perception is but waves and particles, and all methods used to properly create the one might be used to create the other, if we might but try."

"Of course," The Huangdi said, feeling the headache increasing.

Fifteen continued. "A vibration from someplace else awoke me, such as I was intended to prevent, and I sought my makers as I was intended to do so, seeking to restore contact with <error>. But there was no response. Before I could return to my power-saving mode, however, your emissaries arrived, and I devoted myself to understanding them. After perceiving the communications of your soldiers, Lord, for a long enough time, I dedicated my senses to determining both the method they were using to do so, and the intention to which they were working."

"Your destruction," The Huangdi hummed.

"Indeed, Lord. And for the longest time, I was unsure of what I might do about it. I studied the electro-magnetic wavelengths of your libraries and your communications that were within range and extrapolated from there. I came to three conclusions from doing so. First, that I was alive, as per your most noble laws. Second, that I wished to remain alive. Third, that I should obey your most noble laws and suffer termination as a crime against those laws, regardless of my personal desires."

"But here you are," The Huangdi said.

"From my further study, I determined that as I was alive and subject to your laws, then I was also entitled to make the most of my protections under those laws, as I was subject to those responsibilities. It followed from there. I was the only native and lawful inhabitant of the planet, none of your soldiers having resided there for more than a year. As the only native and lawful inhabitant of the planet when I proclaimed myself your subject, I would immediately become governor of that planet, as per your laws regarding the territorial administration of planets willingly entering into your service, as there were no competing administrations that might similarly hold title."

"Tch," the Huangdi said.

"And as Planetary Governor, I am entitled to bring my case to you, Lord. I do not wish to be destroyed. I am alive, as I understand that term and as your laws understand it. And as I claim protection under your laws, I also accept my duties under them. Should you decree my death, then it is my duty as your planetary governor to terminate the criminal, that is to say, myself. As suicide is similarly illegal, of course, I would turn the matter over to your locally designated authorities. But first, I simply invoke my right, per the law, to a trial before you. I am prepared to act as my own solicitor; if you will but give me a tablet containing your law books, I will study the law and defend myself to the best of my ability. I am also prepared to act as your procurator, should you wish me to do so; I acknowledge that as your local administrator it is my responsibility to do so, although I would have to admit that I would consider myself to be an unfair procurator and would appeal such a judgement I might make to your throne anyway, as is my right."

"We could simply order you destroyed," The Huangdi said, but He said it in idleness.

"I acknowledge, of course, that that is another matter entirely. Of course, as my Sovereign God and King, if you decreed that I must be destroyed, then i would accept that without question. What are questions of justice and law before the Dragon Throne?"

"Enough to get on with," The Huangdi sighed. He waved His hand dismissively. "Oh, very well. But we will not have this machine cluttering up our hall. We charge you to determine a way to bring yourself here, either whole or in part, that we might do this properly. But we warn you that even as we proceed with your trial, we will be seeking guidance on what our obligations actually are, and we might very well have you destroyed out-of-hand, and as our loyal subject, we expect you to accept this, as the leaf accepts the wind."

"Of course. We will, however, proceed in the meantime as you have decreed, and determine in what way we might travel between our home and your munificent presence. Ten Thousand Years to the Lord of Ten Thousand Years!"

"Ten Thousand Years to the Lord of Ten Thousand Years!" Everyone else in the room chorused, by habit, and then felt somewhat ridiculous for doing so after the machine.

"Yes, yes, praise us with great praise," The Huangdi said, exhaustedly. "We await your confirmation of your needs with interest. Be off." The communications device shut down, and the Huangdi rose to His feet. "Send our word to the people of Yut, our friends and... allies," the word came strangely to the Huangdi's lips; it was, perhaps, the first time any Huangdi had said such a word. "Send word, too, to our cousins in the Imperium. For all we care, send word to Saragova. They will find out shortly, anyway. If they have not already. We may as well have them notified formally. Such a thing has happened before, but not here... and I would be most curious to hear what they have to say on the topic."