Tov stared at the avian machine, noting the species as a human owl. Blues, greys, and soft whites colored the Seneschal’s feathers while fierce gold glowed from her intelligent eyes. Analytical curiosity bore into him as the little AI began automatic surface scans on his person.

Andora watched with a proud smirk.

He felt glad for the Omni Mind of Sol, and although he still saw the lingering grief and shackles of memories past holding her down and the exhaustion that leaked from the subtle shifts in her expression, Tov felt a spark of something else.

His mind’s eye peered at her, catching the undertones of contentment and joy directed towards the dear owl perched on her forearm.

“Greetings, Seneschal Irkalla. I am Patriarch Tov Garesh’Ynt, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Tov placed his two right hands, one larger than the other, on his chest and bowed. “Andora has spoken briefly about you but nothing else.”

“Hoot. Your greetings have been logged, Patriarch. My creator has told me you are the reason for my elevated emotional parameters. You have my gratitude,” Irkalla hooted, her eyes expanding as she flapped her wings.

She took off with surprising speed, reminding Tov that despite her organic appearance, her synthetic shell consisted of the best material science and engineering Sol’s AIs had to offer.

Tov extended his main arm and allowed Irkalla to land on it. She did so gracefully, her golden claws gently grasping his chitin as she leaned toward him, offering her face. Tov tilted his head before realizing her request.

He scratched her head, finding her feathers soft and delicate.

“I’m not sure what I did apart from broaching the topic off-handedly over a glass of wine,” Tov replied, turning toward Andora, who waved him off.

“A small thing for sure, but enough to ignite an impulse I’d long buried,” Andora explained.

Nodding, Tov returned to the elegant machine perched on his forearm. He listened to the pleasurable noises as he tickled and scratched.

“Amazing, utterly glorious!” Scholar Yulane exclaimed beside Tov belatedly, making him remember the existence of his eager subordinate and her unique psi-produced voice that echoed through the lobby.

The floating Jotex glided toward the Seneschal, her natural psionic mastery of levitation quickly propelling her light translucent body. She extended her blue tendrils, one holding a device that scanned Irkalla.

“This goes beyond any drone intelligence. What was the term, Lady Andora?” the Jotex asked.

Andora raised her brow before answering. “A Warm AI. It’s what my creator and I standardized when the need arose to distinguish between sentient and non-sentient artificial intellects.”

“The latter being Cold AIs, like your drones. I see, I see,” Yulane hummed as she continued to point scanner after scanner with every bit of data flooding into the biotech cranial implant within the Jotex’s significant brain matter.

Tov had no idea where his Chief Scholar kept her equipment. Yet, she seemed always to produce some manner of instrument whenever her ever-curious mind spotted something of academic interest.

Irkalla stared at the incoming scientist and twitched as if the scholar reminded her of something unpleasant.

“Nosy,” she grumbled, taking flight toward the vaulted ceiling above.

Tov noted the extravagant lobby, exquisite décor, tasteful marbled floors, and patterned red rugs. Irkalla landed on the central chandelier that lit up the expansive foyer. The rigid chain barely moved with the added weight, the Seneschal hooting in displeasure as she gave Yulane a side-eye.

Nevertheless, the eccentric scholar froze in place, muttering as she analyzed the data she collected. Tov sighed, clearing his throat into his fist and knocking Yulane from her tunnel-visioned stupor.

“Ah! Yes, I’m here,” she jolted, tendrils waving around before realizing the missing Seneschal. “Where—oh…”

Andora chuckled, seeing the scholar look up to the ceiling. “She just escaped being pampered and studied by eager Overseers. I’m sure she’ll warm up to you eventually. Just try not to hunt her down and treat her like a lab rat.”

“I am no barbarian!” Yulane countered with Tov, feeling not an ounce of shame in her voice. “She’s just the most adorable and… so technologically delicious.”

Tov groaned, shuddering. “Never put those two words together ever again.”

“Noted, it’s just…” Yulane muttered, cooing as she tried to levitate upwards, only to be pulled down by her patriarch.

She turned to Andora, putting away her instruments into a discreet purse. “Forgive me; it’s merely a case of proportion and comprehension.”

“Explain,” Andora furrowed her brow, clasping her hands behind her back as Irkalla flew around the grand foyer.

“Absolutely,” Yulane replied, humming. “While I have interacted and coordinated with the Overseers, their minds far surpass my own in sheer analytical power. From a technical standpoint, it is like interfacing with a computer that I am unaware of how it works.”

“That must be frustrating for you,” Andora teased with a coy smile.

Yulane grumbled. “It is. For example, I took a peek at Jupiter’s Nexus while stationed in the Zolann’s hangar, and the sheer scale is… Like looking at a vast mountain range. Given time, I could explore it all, but…”

“Time is a luxury, and I’m sure developing better means to kill the enemy and protect ourselves from them take precedence over your interest in how I created their Sub-Nexi,” Andora answered.

“Yes, yes, the misfortune of academics. But technology is technology. I only hope I acquire the insight once I can,” sighed Yulane, deflating. “Yours would no doubt be a celestial object in comparison, but Irkalla here…”

“Is much more approachable, right?” Andora hummed, smirking.”

Yulane bobbed her floating form, regaining her vitality and lust for knowledge. “Would you permit me to peruse her central processing unit? Is that possible?”

Andora chuckled before tilting her head to the side, glancing toward Irkalla as she landed on the carpeted floor.

“Irkalla, what do you think?” Andora asked.

The Seneschal glanced toward Yulane, feathers shivering. “No, hoot.”

Sputtering noises escaped the scholar as she floated back in disbelief. “But…”

“Enough, Yulane; you can negotiate another exchange in your own time,” Tov lightly scolded the dimming Jotex. He turned to Irkalla, nodding. “Apologies for that.”

“A scientific exchange is beneficial for all parties. I am willing to accomplish this, but with regulations in place. Is that acceptable?” Irkalla asked, her golden eyes drilling down on the Jotex, who bobbed enthusiastically.

“Anything!” she answered quickly.

Tov sighed, knowing Yulane’s tenacity whenever she found something that grabbed her attention. Already, she backed away, having received a list of rules and demands from the Seneschal and reading it all.

The Patriarch took the time to step forward, looking between Andora and the little AI. “If that is all, may we begin the tour? I am eager to see the new quarters.”

“Certainly. For the duration of your visit, I shall act as your guide; follow me,” Irkalla answered, taking off toward the blast doors that led further into the Citadel.

As the others followed along, with Tov walking beside Andora, Yulane a bit behind as she analyzed her findings and the squad of Vraxen surrounding them, Tov leaned toward his host. “Was she named before or after the structure?”

“After, I ran out of creativity when I made that decision. I didn’t want to name her Ereshkigal since my dreadnought took it, and having someone essentially my chief steward named after a goddess doesn’t fit,” Andora replied with a shrug.

The tour began after they passed the blast doors separating the foyer and the main hallway. Unlike the well-decorated entrance lobby, Tov noticed the sparseness of decorations, instead seeing a handful of construction and maintenance drones polishing the metal and inserting the wood trim on the base of the wall.

“Only a token crew has been assigned toward improving the aesthetics of non-essential areas,” Irkalla spoke as she landed on the shoulder of a four-legged lifter drone that carried a pallet of material. The car-sized robot moved to the side, giving the guests a comfortable distance.

“Where are you taking us first, Seneschal Irkalla?” Tov asked, glancing at the busy machines before putting them behind his mind.

Irkalla took off, flying, then stopped before the patriarch and produced a stable hologram through one of her eyes. “As you have decided to place as many of the orphaned non-combat personnel and the wounded within the Citadel, I believe it is prudent to direct you to our residentials.”

“Lead the way,” Tov replied.

Through long corridors and a quick elevator ride, the group arrived at the wing set aside for the Third Fleet.

None of his people were present, but the space was large enough to house tens of thousands of people. Instead, much like the hallway above, a more significant number of lumbering and nimble drones strode about, ensuring the refurbishment of the space finished on schedule.

“The Residential wing has all the essentials for survival and what comfort we can provide,” Irkalla reported as the hallway bled into the bottom floor lobby.

The Residential Wing resembled the interior multi-level tower, with an expansive central open space providing a clear view of each floor, of which there were dozens.

At the base, where Tov and the present company walked, were the makings of a cafeteria and various facilities catered to the residents, including medical wards, office spaces, and recreational areas.

They moved up, using one of the lifts, and inspected the upper floors, each filled with studio apartments. These living spaces were uncomplicated and bland yet cozy, furnished with essentials, and adorned in pleasant colors.

“Here we have the living proper,” Irkalla continued, moving further into the room. “As you can see, there is a small kitchenette, a bed fit for a couple, or it can be separated to turn this studio into a two-person affair.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The overall design featured ample light that simulated day and an open layout. Potted plants, ferns, moss, and a light mist completed the bright aesthetics, promoting a sense of tranquility as Tov breathed it all in.

“I hope everything is to your liking, patriarch,” the Seneschal bowed.

At the top were the living quarters for the higher-level personnel, and while the rooms were slightly larger and better furnished, Tov found little disparities overall. In any case, he assumed his people wouldn’t get much sleep over the coming journey back.

“It needs a personable touch,” Tov commented as they reached the penthouse assigned to him and the others for people like his second-in-command or General Ohnar. Not that he’d stay here unless necessary. “But I believe the sailors who’ve lost their vessels would feel grateful at the accommodations. I remember fighting tooth and nail trying to find an apartment within a capital vessel half as good as what you’ve provided.”

Andora smiled.

“I am delighted to hear that. It’s the least I could do for what your people have done in defense of mine,” she paused, pressing her lips. “I have to ask, however, how is your fleet?”

Tov sighed, the memories of writing personal letters to the fallen, tallying the dead and wounded, and seeing the final number of combat-capable warships at his disposal pressed against his shoulders, dragging him down like a domineering gravitational pull.

“Healing… This has been a costly endeavor. Losing a large chunk of our young, inexperienced, and mentally unwell to the Starfall a month ago inflicted a heavy blow at the onset,” Tov began, Andora wincing upon hearing the name of that virulent eldritch plague.

“But the recent battle has wounded our fighting capability. We lost our heavy cruiser, the Quilinne, along with her captain. Following her is another light cruiser, a handful of destroyers, and less than ten frigates,” Tov gritted his mandibles, the words burning his throat as he spoke them. “Still, if small, it is a blessing that the recent upgrades have increased crew survivability.”

“The new escape pods worked well?” Andora asked with a raised brow.

Tov nodded, “That they did. There would have been more deaths if it weren’t for the miniaturized shield generators and maneuvering thrusters. On their behalf, I thank you. We are forever in your debt.”

“Then so am I, Tov. I am delighted to know their efficacy proved itself,” Andora smiled before pausing.

Tov tilted his head, seeing and guessing her following line of inquiry, most likely regarding the new guest residing within his supercapital ship.

“How is Jupiter?” Andora asked Tov. The patriarch turned to her and saw the thinly veiled worry in her eyes. Tov turned to her, antennae twitching as he recalled seeing the Overseer walking in his android shell.

“Recovering,” Tov answered, shaking his head. “He’s trying to keep himself busy, but he seems disoriented. Admiral Yan is assisting him in acclimating to his condition by letting him help us speed through our departure procedures.”

Andora nodded, frowning yet relaxing her shoulders. “That is reassuring. Has he mentioned anything about… returning to the Network?”

Tov shook his head, Andora sighing in response. “Very well,

The next phase of the tour proceeded quickly with their next destination. They entered a vast open space line through heavy blast doors with column after column of high shelves. Some contained real, physical books protected by a thin film of energy shielding, slowing down their decay by an extreme measure.

Other shelves merely looked the part when they were colossal storage units for electronic material like the last iteration of the Internet, frozen in all its final glory.

“As you know, the Human Preservation Chamber houses every piece of human society, history, and art. Here, you can find works of Leonardo Da Vinci and video recordings of Michael Jackson’s Thriller. There are sections dedicated to human architecture, holy books, cooking books, movies, TV shows, and music,” Irkalla ended, soaring toward the vast high ceiling and landing atop one of the many tall bookshelves, nearly thrice his size.

The space was more than a museum; it was a living testament to the diversity and richness of human creativity, a love letter for what they’ve created, the mark of their existence.

Yulane fawned over the countless books. “Oh, how I wish to be a librarian right now,” she muttered with awe.

Tov couldn’t help but agree, imagining sitting by himself, reading book after book from an entirely different species. “One of these days, I’d like to consume everything here.”

“Oh, you’ll need two lifetimes to accomplish that, Tov,” Andora chuckled, dragging an enthralled Yulane out of the glorious library, who protested at the act, feeling like she’d been ripped away from her child.

Eventually, the rowdy Jotex calmed, though they continued to grumble along to their next destination.

Adjacent to the Human Preservation Chamber, the DNA Banks stood as Andora’s final hurdle to safeguard the potential to revive humanity, her android kin, and the breadth of life within Earth.

Andora meticulously stored the essence of Earth’s biodiversity over the century. Even before the Starless came, cataloging nature had been an avid pastime for AIs like her. Now, rows of gleaming capsules housed the genetic blueprints of every conceivable flora and fauna, from towering sequoias to microscopic organisms.

At the heart of the collection was the repository of human DNA, carefully preserved alongside the templates for creating android AIs. Combined with the Preservation Chamber, the two formed a biological and cultural ark, keeping life and civilization's fundamental building blocks.

Each capsule whispered the story of the planet’s biological heritage, a silent promise to rebuild and rejuvenate the intricate dance of life whenever the need arose, protected, and cooled within stable, sterile environments.

“The DNA Banks,” Tov muttered, hovering his hand over one of the capsules and reading the contents from the plaque within. “Pterocarpus indicus.”

“The Narra tree, indigenous to Southeast Asia and the Pacific Islands,” Irkalla chimed as she landed beside the capsule.

Andora looked at the tiny thing, her shoulders dropping as she ran her hand over her face and hair. “I remember having… iced tea under the shade of one.”

“What did you think of the tree when that happened? Tov asked.

Andora smiled, a small, soft smile, as she glanced at him. “I thought it was a nice tree.”

Tov chuckled, moving through every row and column. He, Yulane, and Andora paused as the latter recalled what she recalled on that piece of fauna and flora.

“This is unbelievably precious, Andora,” Tov whispered. “How many of Earth’s species have you saved?”

Andora frowned, a hollow, pained look flashing across her face. “When it all fell apart, we managed to archive sixty-seven percent of Mother Nature. But when the Starfall hit…”

Tov winced, knowing the fate of organic life that didn’t have sufficient sapience to resist. They broke down, fueling the growing sea of red, simple biomass that melted to the ground. He’d seen the aftermaths of such rampant transformations washing over entire worlds.

Perfect grounds for breeding worlds.

An antimatter bomb purged the surface clean every time. It pained him to know that nothing lived on Earth anymore and likely never will.

“Yet another crime,” Tov seethed.

“Believe me, I’m keeping a long list of wrongs,” Andora snarled. “I’ll come for every single one of them and make them pay their blood debts.”

She and every living being, Tov included. With the advent of the Executor and the revealing of some manner of guiding intelligence, everyone’s hate had evolved.

They left promptly, heading toward the final destination of their tour.

Andora slowed, her face scrunching up with anxiety and fear before they stopped by a pair of familiar and robust blast doors. They ground to a halt, Andora gritting her teeth and clenching her fists as they stood before the Citadel’s Hospice Facility entrance.

Soon, shallow breaths escaped the AI woman, her eyes darting around before she shut them close. Tov reached out to her only to be stopped by a raised palm.

She let out a strangled, frustrated sigh, turning to Tov with a tired gaze and quivering lips. “I can’t… I’m sorry, but I’m not ready to see them… Not yet.”

“Take all the time you need, Andora,” Tov answered gently. “We can skip this part if—”

Andora shook her head, “No, I’d rather you all check on everyone. Make sure nothing’s amiss, I trust you.”

Tov felt unsure if he earned by extending such trust with an incredibly personal relationship, but if she trusted him to take them out of Iceland and escort them here, then he supposed checking on their health was the least he could do.

“Very well, we’ll be quick,” he replied as Irkalla flew over his head, stopping before the heavy blast doors, sending passwords to unlock, and slowly opening the entrance. The gears ground smoothly as other mechanical clicks gave way.

The doors slid open, revealing the lit interior of the largest room, second only to Andora’s Nexus Chambers.

“Please follow me,” Irkalla spoke, more reserved as she flew slowly down the lengthy platform.

As they entered, the memory of his first visit haunted him once more. Still, knowing what lay within each pod softened the blow and horror.

His gaze stretched high into the heavens and plunged deep into the abyss below in this surreal expanse of metal and glass, rows and columns of meticulously arranged capsules sprawled like a grand archive.

The entrance led to the middle platform that circled a central opening, allowing them a view of the platforms above and below, occupying the dome-shaped expanse with pod after pod and the systems necessary to house them.

“This is… unbelievable and horrible,” Yulane muttered, her usual vitality dimmed under the soft moans behind each glass capsule.

Hovering drones controlled by Irkalla moved with gentle precision, delicately probing each pod. Tendrils extended out of the caretakers, moving into exchange fluids and maintaining the linked capsules before moving on to the next.

They walked farther, utilizing the moving walkways to quickly reach the end of the platform. Tov looked over the railing, seeing their destination as a hovering drone approached them.

“Please hold on to this unit,” Irkalla requested toward Tov and Yulane. The two quickly grasped the handlebars available on the squid-like caretaker drone. As soon as they had stable footing, they flew toward the bottom.

Once they reached the floor, Tov and Yulane dropped from the drone.

At the lowest level and center of the vast complex, amidst a hundred million suffering victims, laid the medical pod housing the two that held onto Andora’s heart.

Much like how he found it below the ruins of her mountainside home, scores of caretakers arranged vibrant bouquets of fresh daisies and wreaths, their petals wet with moisture as a drone neatly put it.

Family photos adorned the pod's glass, each containing precious little moments.

Tov leaned forward, seeing through the thick glass and suppressing the urge to wince and the rise of nausea at the mangled and fused mutant within. What beady bloodshot eyes remained were now shut as the medical pod pumped its sleeping gas.

“They are currently stable and have not experienced any deterioration since their placement here,” Irkalla reported.

“My readings say the same,” Yulane added as she ran her scanners over the pod and the Starfallen pair inside. “Rikard and Lucy are… I dare not say healthy, no. They aren’t dying, and their brain activity is low from the lack of stimuli and the drugged gas.”

“Then it is as it should be,” Tov muttered, sighing. He looked at one of the photos, seeing Andora, Rikard, and Luna enjoying ice cream cones on a summer day in Naples—vibrant and happy.

Another was of Rikard playing a violin and Andora singing, the former wearing a sharp suit and the latter wearing an elegant black dress.

A mouse drone scurried between his feet, carrying a new daisy to add to the growing bouquet.

“Andora requested a garden be grown close by,” Irkalla answered, swooping down to take the daisy and arranging it more to the side.

He turned away, not wishing to stay longer among the groans and moans of people long gone.

They returned, ferried by their transport drone toward the main entrance. Tov stepped down, walking toward the opening blast doors. Andora waited just outside, pausing her pace as she spotted him, Yulane, and Irkalla.

“How are they?” Andora whispered her question as she took tentative steps toward them, her fingers rubbing against each other as she stared into Tov’s eyes.

“As comfortable as they can be, Irkalla tells me they’re sedated,” Tov answered as they moved away from the thick blast doors and back into the hall.

Andora hummed, nodding. “She told me the same thing. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked Irkalla to check on them.”

“Eleven times, creator,” Irkalla promptly responded, preening herself.

A chuckle came in response, Andora shaking her head with a smirk as she ran her hand gently over Seneschal’s feathery head. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“That is my purpose, among other things,” Irkalla hooted, taking off again.

Tov walked beside Andora, the two quiet as their present companions allowed them space, Yulane and Irkalla having their conversation as the leaders mulled their words.

“Did they look… alright?” Andora asked hesitantly.

Tov parsed his thoughts, then responded gently. “As one would expect from being afflicted with Malignant Starfall, unfortunately.”

“I shouldn’t have expected anything else,” she muttered, shutting her eyes. “It’s right there, lingering in the back of my head. I want to forget… but I can’t.”

“I can’t even begin to understand seeing… imagining, the same happening to Yoram and Uli,” Tov whispered.

Andora looked to the ceiling, the soft blue light washing over her face.

“Agony. In its purest form. Pray that never happens, Tov,” Andora shook her head, her eyes darkening as they walked away from the Hospice Facility. “Pray hard.”

With the tour coming to a close, the assembled group headed further down the Citadel. Various support rooms, sensor monitoring stations, the dead Starlight Beacon, and the command center settled their roots here.

They paused before a door guarded by a pair of burly combat drones, their lethal frame looming over the guests but quickly washing away their buried hostility upon feeling Andora’s presence.

“How long do we have until lift off?” Tov asked as they entered the Citadel’s War Room, empty apart from the latest display tables and terminals.

Andora remained quiet with a faraway look in her gaze. Tov respected the silence, clasping his hands behind him as he moved toward the center of the room. Eventually, from the corner of his compound vision, Andora shook her head, regaining the clarity in her sight.

“Hm? Oh, we’ll be… leaving by the end of the day. We can watch aboard the Zolann and begin transferring everyone once we’re in orbit,” Andora answered with half-lidded eyes, running her over the edge of the table, spotless and shiny.

Tov moved to her side, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What is it?” he asked.

Andora opened her mouth before closing it again, pressing them into a thin line as she mulled her words.

Finally, she turned to face Tov, twin blue suns piercing his soul.

“Everything just feels… surreal,” she spoke quietly, looking down. “I can sense it. I’ve been putting it off for the past week, but the tides are coming back, inch by inch. I’m… afraid of what they’ll bring the moment it hits.”

“The moment what hits?” Tov asked.

Andora chuckled, breathing deeply as she replied with a fragile smile. “That we’re leaving.”