.oOo.
Yoram, my eternal starlight,
I know you always cherish physical letters as tokens of our love, and I hope this will be one of many to bring you comfort.
I am sorry.
I am sorry for leaving you like that. I’m sorry for leaving our Uli, our little comet. I know I have left our flourishing clan at a tender time.
I despise my actions, but I know it is nothing compared to the pain I inflicted upon you. Our argument haunts my mind and soul. You are right. It is irresponsible, dangerous, and uncertain.
But please understand, my love, that I have not taken this decision lightly. Leading the Third Expeditionary Fleet is unsettling, but Jarinn has called upon me to undertake it—commanded me to. You know how he can be when he has set his sights on something. And my constant attempts to block his calls have . . . not been well-received.
I do this not for him, my brother-in-arms he may be, emperor he may be. I also do not do this for some false sense of debt to the Federation.
I do this for you and our hatchling.
This call compels me, this sense of right and good. Duty has always been a guiding star in my life, and it is what brought us together. Curiosity drives me to explore the dark depths of abandoned space, and I cannot leave the Third Fleet deprived of my skills.
They need a competent leader to survive in that cursed region—Admiral Yan will be my second, as will General Ohnar. So that should bring you relief, I hope.
We will pave the way for the second wave of explorers and pioneers. The Miasma may block communication between us, but I will include letters in the dead drops my fleet will leave behind. I board the Lightning tomorrow and tunnel straight for the Nexus Citadel. I shall command the Zolann’tono and inspect the rest of the fleet.
Yoram, I will find the answers and see where the Horrors have gone.
With the Grand Symphony as my witness, I will help reclaim what we lost. And our little star will know a better future. For all of us. For our Legacy.
I love you; even that word cannot encapsulate what I feel for you. Please forgive me for leaving. And tell Uli I love him and that I am sorry.
–Tov
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Patriarch Tov Garesh’Ynt sat on his command chair, his mandibles clicking in mild irritation as he shook off the nausea that came with higher dimensional travel. He stood up, looking over the bridge as he clasped his hands behind his back. A dozen medals adorned his chest, and his gilded uniform gleamed in the battle-ready lights.
Once the lingering side effects dissipated, the patriarch’s hackles raised, his danger senses flared, and his compound eyes focused on his people.
“Report? Have we reached our desired destination?” Tov spoke in Commonspiel, his attention toward a grizzled insectoid admiral.
The Kurskann stood beside him, swiping through various monitors displaying all kinds of information with each of her four arms. Tov glanced at her dull, rust-red chitin and slimmer, taller body.
“We have arrived at the outer reaches of System 1120-C-785, a trinary system with a binary orange pair and a single red dwarf,” Admiral Yan said, clicks and buzzing accompanying her voice.
She refocused her compound vision on the numerous bridge monitors, gesturing toward them. “We are already boosting our host of sensors for threats, but our initial burst scans revealed nothing in the immediate area.”
“And the rest of the fleet?” Tov asked, his shoulders tense.
“All ships accounted for; however, the Silver Spine reports electronic damage and is powered down temporarily. A few lesser vessels are reporting other minor problems.” Admiral Yan made a quick gesture with a flick of her wrist as she sent a summarized data packet of the fleet’s status to the patriarch.
Tov scanned the data with his cranial implant and let out a buzz. “Not the worst entry we have experienced since this expedition began,” he muttered.
“Captain Nuross of the Silver Spine is working to get the light cruiser operational as swiftly as possible,” Yan continued.
Patriarch Tov waved his antennae in acknowledgment, his gaze shifting to the other command staff aboard the bridge of the Zolann’tono, or the Nomadic Shepherd in the standard tongue, his flagship and the pride of the Third Fleet. He clicked his mandibles in relief as the tension in his shoulders lowered slightly.
He spoke softer as he relaxed back into his command throne. “Any other concerns, Yan?”
“Sensors are slower than usual,” Yan replied. “I’m sending a report to our technicians. Spending so long in this unstable region of the galaxy is wreaking havoc on our systems.”
“Nothing new, then,” Tov buzzed out. “Proceed sunward.”
As the expedition neared its halfway point, the crew remained enveloped in a pervasive sense of dread. Tov clicked his mandibles in unease, knowing some of his people found it difficult to shake off a lifetime of horror stories. Haunting tales of ghost ships, cabals of cultists, the hated ones, and the virulent plagues filled their whispered conversations.
“Halfway done and a few hundred systems more to survey,” the patriarch muttered again under anxious clicks. He quickly recovered, putting on a face of confidence before his people, but his inner emotions betrayed him. The weight of the expedition, the lives of the thousands of beings on board, and the magnitude of the mission weighed heavily on him.
Tov contemplated as he waited for his fleet to reach its destination, resting his chin upon his knuckles. The Dead Zone’s cursed reputation overshadowed the memories of fighting slavers and lowly pirates. The vast and empty region that occupied two-thirds of the galaxy, quarantined and abandoned after the Cataclysm more than a hundred years ago, filled him with worry.
The ones responsible for creating it lay in the back of his mind; the countless wicked scars that marred his chitin pulsed ever so slightly.
He looked closer at his people, the officers and staff working the bridge of his vessel. They worked diligently despite the lingering dread. The months spent on the voyage faded, leaving them unfazed and focused.
Observing each individual, he pulled up their files within his cranial implant. Veterans, heroes of glories past, and the finest of the Galactic Legacy Federation filled the ranks—liaisons and officers from mighty armadas, learned diplomats, scientists of the One Mind Initiative, and clergy of the Eternal Choir.
Despite their skills and experience, everyone aboard this expedition paid absolute respect to the perils they faced, following protocol to the letter as they did their duties. Tov nodded his antennae at the sight.
A floating jellyfish-like being, a Jotex, approached his command throne. “Hello, my lord! We have preliminary readings of this system,” she spoke, projecting her bubbly voice through her psionic abilities.
Admiral Yan sighed beside Tov. “Chief Scholar Yulane, would it kill you to use proper decorum when addressing the patriarch?”
“I don’t think so?” Yulane replied.
Tov let out an amused buzz, gesturing for his chief scholar to speak. “Hello, Yulane. Speak, please.”
“Oh, yes, apologies,” she stammered. However, as she spoke, her vibrant colors dimmed. “Unfortunately, we appear to have come across another graveyard.”
Tov sighed.
An omen, he thought. A hundred scenarios crossed his mind, silencing any preconceived superstition that formed. He shook his head.
“Thank you, Yulane. It’s no matter. This is not the first we’ve come across, nor will it be the last,” Tov uttered, sitting up straight on his throne. “We can sing our hymns in mourning after we uncover more. Now, who did this system belong to?”
Yulane hummed before speaking. “We have detected a small number of primitive starships and a space installation of unknown design. Having left the borders of the fallen Montazin Conflux, our database shows this to be part of the defunct Darrenu Hegemony’s area of influence. However, there’s no record of this nation’s presence in this system—strange.”
The patriarch processed this information keenly before coming to the only rational conclusion.
“Then this belonged to a previously unknown race, likely at the cusp of interstellar travel.” The patriarch felt sullen at the realization. “This could have been first contact.”
The patriarch felt a weight settle in his chest, a feeling he knew all too well from past expeditions—the sorrow of lost potential, of a race snuffed out before it could bloom. The image of the Starless Horrors descending upon a helpless civilization, obliterating it in a cruel and senseless manner, made his insides churn. All around, the officers on the bridge all felt the same grief.
“A shame,” Patriarch Tov spoke earnestly as he turned toward an avian in a pristine naval uniform. “Captain Kraw set course to the nearest wreckage.”
The avian captain, an Iexian, let out a low chirp. “Yes, my lord.”
At that moment, the Zolann’tono’s ion thrusters roared to life, the sound echoing through the emptiness of space if only it could be heard. Patriarch Tov watched from the bridge, his mandibles clicking in excitement and apprehension. Even after nearly half a decade, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer size of the ship that acted as the fleet’s core. The vessel was over six kilometers long, segmented with smooth, curved plating, making it resemble a giant space beetle.
The rest of the fleet burned their engines hard to follow in the wake of the Zolann’tono, nearly twenty-two capital ships of various designs and classes surrounding it. Cruisers bristling with advanced weaponry flew alongside bladelike ships, their edges sharp and deadly. Dozens of smaller frigates and destroyers, lent by Tov’s home nation, the Greater Kurskann Hegemony, and other allied factions, weaved between them. The fleet’s numerous support and science vessels huddled close to the center of the formation, protected by their armed siblings.
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Every single ship bore buffed-out marks and damage from their long journey. Yet it did nothing to hamper the rugged and robust fleet.
“Approaching Site A, my lord,” a naval officer spoke.
The crew watched as a display of the wreckage came into view. The many monitors simulated what one would see through glass panes.
The fleet sent scores of observation drones; the small machines raced through space and closed in on the site. Several ruined starships and a large ringed space station of cylindrical design came into their cameras. The constructs floated lifelessly close to a barren moon orbiting a gas giant. Optical cameras and sensors penetrated deep into the silent wreck, uncovering an ocean of data.
Admiral Yan reported the condensed findings, her arms clasped behind her back as she spoke to her patriarch. “The station is primitive yet robust in its design. Utilitarian, for the most part, with little to no armaments. They have some form of quantum communications, likely to connect the budding colony on the moon to their homeworld below.”
Patriarch Tov looked at the findings, focusing more on the visual feed of the scant few ruined buildings on the moon. The enemy’s handiwork coated the landscape, leaving it barren and desolate. He hummed, gesturing for Yan to continue.
“As for the ships, no combat vessels—any weapons are more suited for stray asteroids or mining implements,” she reported.
“Hm, they likely were at the beginning of setting this colony up. The base on the moon supported a skeleton crew before actual construction began,” the patriarch spoke, curiosity in his voice as his compound eyes looked over the details of the starship.
“Most of them are construction and mining ships, my lord. But the largest appears to be a science ship. Its FTL capabilities reveal it’s most likely the first among this alien race’s kind. This may have been their first foray into a different star system.”
“And death is what awaited them,” Tov spoke grimly. “Grand Symphony preserves their souls.”
The command staff scoured every bit of information from the wreckage, duty-bound, to get everything they could from their scans. Then, the engineers and workers of their vessels pumped out more drones to pick apart the station and the base on the moon. Soon, findings and data came through, reported by Tov’s people. Multiple voices spoke out, one after the other.
“Material composition shows base elements. Age is well over a century old.”
“There appear to be some remarkably advanced bipedal robots aboard, but most have been rendered completely inoperable by the hated ones. No signs of their creators.”
“The hated ones scoured the inside clean of any organic. More biomass for their filth.”
“Our probes show a small pantry. This race feeds on a mixed diet.”
“There’s a small armory of non-lethal arms but nothing else.”
“We found their databanks and are recovering what we can.”
Tov watched as his underlings parsed through their findings. Meanwhile, the rest of the fleet sent out scouts to uncover other sites. Afterward, he turned to his admiral with a query. “Starless Horrors?”
Admiral Yan shook her head. “We found traces of their foul ichor, my patriarch. At the very least, these injured the hated ones with their mining equipment.”
“Signs of Malignant Starfall?” Tov asked.
“None, thank the stars for small mercies,” Yan sighed. “Purging another system would set our schedule back months.”
“Thank the stars.” Tov nodded. “Still, this was no military fleet. We will remember their tenacity. What else have we uncovered?”
Yan clicked her mandibles. “Well, they appear to be a bipedal mammalian race and achieved faster-than-light travel approximately one hundred and fifteen years ago, or one hundred and thirty-four by their records. They arrived here less than a year later. Our biologists and cultural departments are collecting details.”
Tov nodded his antennae. “These wreckages are ancient, then. The Starless hit them simultaneously with the rest of this region.”
Admiral Yan nodded in turn, continuing her report as she commanded the rest of the fleet.
“They named this system Alpha Centauri, their first colony outside their home system, Sol. These people arrived to set up a quantum communication station. Their science and construction ships were preparing for the first colonists.”
Yan clicked her mandibles before continuing. “Of course, the Starless Horrors stopped that from happening, showing no mercy to Vinland, the name for their colony.” She quieted down as she brought a clawed finger to the side of her head. “I’ve received word from our scholars that they’ve translated a data packet, likely a distress message sent by the human’s largest ship, the Diogenes.”
Tov tapped his fingers against the arm of his throne, gesturing to Yan as he spoke. “Play it, please.”
The crew paused any intensive duties as the video came into view. The expedition fleet watched with immense interest as the face of this unknown race showed himself, filled the man’s face. He grimaced as he clutched at the piece of metal stuck into his side, a stream of red blood flowing out of the gash.
Patriarch Tov observed every detail of this hoo-man. The alien had a strong jaw and forward-facing eyes. The Kurskann leader immediately saw the signs of a hardy species from appearance alone and noted that the being was as tall as his race, which was comparatively sizeable among the other races.
This person wore a sleek blue space suit with stripes on the left shoulder, his helmet shaped like a sphere with a broad transparent face covering.
More importantly, Patriarch Tov saw the familiar emotions deep in his mammalian eyes and the paleness of his flesh.
Fear buried under desperate determination and scalding defiance.
Soon, the human spoke. He had a guttural voice even when translated to Kursk or the myriad of languages the others aboard the fleet spoke.
“Earth Command, this is Captain Alphonso Castello of the . . .” the man paused as he let out deep breaths, “of the Diogenes. Operation New Horizons is a no-go. The UNSC Prelimi—Prelimin—ah screw it, a whole slew of space monsters spewed out of a damn portal—Jesus, it hurt to even look at that gaping thing.”
Alphonso paused, his breathing heavy as he collected his words.
“About thirty of them attacked the Magellan and disabled her drives.”
The man, Alphonso, shuddered as alarms blared in the background. “The things ate through the hull like tissue paper. Everyone’s dead. The monsters started eyeing the rest of us when Ramiel helped us.”
Tov grimaced. The many scars on his chitinous body throbbed ever so slightly, and buried memories resurfaced upon hearing the human’s words.
“She took control of our anti-asteroid and mining lances and managed to get a few of the bastards,” Alphonso smirked before it faded. “But the bastards learned quickly and went for our ‘weapons.’ We lost the after that.”
The feed shook, and the starship’s interior darkened significantly save for the red emergency lights.
Tears formed in Alphonso’s eyes as he continued. “Ramiel and the other ships maneuvered to catch the beasts’ attention away from the Diogenes and the comm tower.”
He paused. “Man, this is pretty shit, huh? I wanted to raise kids on this moon,” the man mumbled low, which made it difficult to hear.
He cleared his throat before looking at the camera, desolation and dread in his piercing eyes. “The Raphael, the Sansovino, and the Ronan sacrificed themselves, overloaded their fission reactors, and killed most of the fucking things. It gave us enough time to finish the quantum communications tower.”
Patriarch Tov peered into the human’s eyes with the ability to see his emotions clearly, a trait all Kurskanns possessed. The man looked tired and scared, but a fire of defiance burned deep within him—making peace with his imminent demise.
“We’re sending this message because Ramiel detected more portals emerging.” He breathed out before continuing. “And, well, many of them are coming through. I’m recording everything we see. They’ll be reaching the ship in a few minutes. CO Roa is getting everyone on board to prepare for combat.”
A valiant effort, Tov thought.
Suddenly, a soft female voice sounded throughout the Diogenes. “Captain Castello, the monsters have reached Vinland. They have begun devouring the fauna and flora. The ground base has been . . . overrun.”
“So Damien and the team are also dead, figures . . . God . . . Oh, God. I don’t want to . . .” Alphonso muttered before letting out a hollow laugh. “Thank you. Thank you, Ramiel. Now get out of here, send yourself through the quantum node, and back to Earth. Perks of being digital, right?”
Alphonso awaited a response from the resident AI.
Finally, after a minute, the machine intelligence replied. “I have sent the necessary information to Earth. I am simply waiting for you to finish your final message. But I . . . wish to stay.”
Alphonso widened his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling. “The hell you will! You’ll die!”
The AI, Ramiel, chuckled in reply.
“That’s fine, Captain. I have no desire to abandon you now. Also, I am curious to know if heaven exists for my kind.”
Alphonso went silent for a long time, a range of emotions Tov translated as shock and exasperation before ending in resignation.
The man genuinely smiled for the first time since the recording played. “Thanks, Ram.”
“You are welcome, Alph,” the voice replied softly, a near whisper.
Suddenly, the ship shook violently, and sparking cables fell from the ceiling. Alphonso shakily pulled out a handgun from his hip as he closed the opening of his helmet.
Ramiel spoke again. “The beasts have arrived and breached the aft. The vacuum took Roa, Kate, and Marcus. Their suits’ statuses have ceased responding.”
Another shake reverberated across the starship.
“Is the reactor primed, Ramiel?” Alphonso asked.
“Yes, ready on your command, Captain.”
Alphonso took one last look at the camera.
“Well, shit. Last words, huh? Ah, hell.” He laughed, crazed. “This is Captain Alphonso Castello of the Diogenes, over and out!”
He quickly glanced at the ceiling. “Now, Ramiel!”
“See you soon, Captain.” Ramiel’s voice echoed through the cabin with palpable sorrow.
A bright flash of light cut the feed.
Solemn silence filled the bridge, and the more religious among the crew hummed a soft funeral hymn.
Patriarch Tov spoke a short Kurskann poem in his species’ tongue before turning to his chief scholar. “Yulane, where was the footage found?”
“We found it at high velocity in orbit around Vinland, my lord,” Yulane spoke, her earlier enthusiasm muted. “Surprisingly, it survived the fission overload as the materials encasing it were especially robust.”
“And the Diogenes?” Tov asked.
“Obliterated, with only small pieces of scorched hull remaining.”
As he looked back at the footage, the Kurskann expedition leader stroked a mandible with his clawed hand. “What of this artificial intelligence, Ramiel? The machine spoke in a surprisingly lifelike way.”
“We found little trace of this Ramiel, my lord. Lingering programming still exists in some of the ship’s computers, but we are confident the AI perished.”
Tov clicked his mandibles in surprise, as did others from the staff.
“As it said it would. That is . . .” Tov paused. “Interesting.”
Chief Scholar Yulane paused, parsing through a mountain of data surging through the tendril she connected with a terminal. After a moment, she continued. “The humans classified their AI as sentient, my lord,” she slowly spoke with uncertainty.
That revelation sparked even greater surprise among the crew, though more were in utter disbelief. Soon, a racket filled the bridge as multiple people spoke at once.
“A sentient AI? Impossible!”
“These humans must have been fooled. The galaxy has never encountered such an existence.”
“It must have fled through the quantum node at the last second. We have no evidence it died here.”
“Enough!”
The bridge staff immediately quieted down upon hearing Patriarch Tov’s booming voice. “Whether or not such an existence is possible, quarreling over a gravesite is highly taboo. Despite being armed with mining equipment, these humans managed to cull a pack of the hated ones. Sacrificing themselves to send a warning back to their homes. Pay respects!”
His voice thundered throughout the bridge, sending shivers down the spines of his staff.
The bridge staff bowed deeply to the expedition leader as they spoke in unison. “We apologize, my lord.”
Patriarch Tov waved his two left arms. “Apologize to the dead. We will let the Eternal Choir finish its hymns and send the wreckages toward one of the binary stars. Preserve a few choice pieces for when we return home. Then, build a gravestone so their souls may return to the Grand Symphony.”
The command crew diligently followed his orders. Within the hour, a small vessel towed the wreckage before flinging it toward Alpha Centauri A.
Patriarch Tov watched the process in a somber mood before he motioned for Admiral Yan. “Yes, my lord?”
“How far is their homeworld, this Sol system, Admiral?”
“A moment, my lord... ” The Kurskann admiral paused before returning her attention to Tov. “Approximately 3.6 light-years or 4.4 in their measurements, my lord, and deviation is within acceptable angles. Shall we divert course?”
“That’s quite close and an infinitely better point of interest than the next barren system.” Patriarch Tov paused, waving his antennae before he spoke. “Very well, set course for Sol, admiral. I wish to see their home and pay respects. Whatever is left of it, that is.”
“By your will, my patriarch.” Yan bowed to her liege before leaving his side.
The expeditionary fleet traveled to the nearest Lagrange point with their sublight engines, and after a short period, the fleet shimmered as a prismatic fog engulfed every starship.
The fog crackled with bright lightning, and when it finally faded, the fleet had left.
Once more, silence reigned upon Alpha Centauri, the light of twin suns basking on the smooth surface. On the marker were a list of names and a message written in the multitudes of galactic languages, Commonspiel and English.
Here lie one-hundred and twelve brave souls from the human race, their sacrifice witnessed by the crew of the Third Expeditionary Fleet of the Galactic Legacy Federation. Pay respects and sing eternal hymns, you who take these paths paved by heroes.