Freya convulsed as yet another missile struck home, impacting near the vessel’s stern. Damage reports were coming in from all across the aging battleship, with Damage Control teams working under extremely hazardous conditions, struggling desperately to keep her together.

“We have to fall back!” the XO shouted. “The Troika are bringing in reinforcements and we don’t have the firepower to hold them off!” Another Terran ship exploded in close proximity, scattering debris in all directions as the Admiral reached a decision.

“Very well,” Van Aalst said with a heavy heart, “inform the fleet we will retreat to…”

“Sir!” one of the bridge officers shouted, interrupting him, “incoming transmission!”

“On screen,” he ordered… as an alien visage filled the monitor.

“A conflict of this important, and you don’t invite us?” the blue-skinned Ixian said in mock seriousness. “Such rudeness! I demand satisfaction upon the field of honor.” He grinned fiercely at that. “Although we shall postpone that minor bagatelle until after the battle. Let it not be said that I, Paygan Kuosha Xeing, do not properly appreciate decorum.”

“Paygan, I’m just a little busy at the moment,” Admiral Van Aalst snapped, “so unless you brought a fleet along with you…”

“Admiral!” the Tactical officer clamored for attention, “multiple ships entering the system!” He stared in shock as the computer identified the incoming vessels before turning to his commander. “Sir, it’s the Alliance!”

The Paygan’s grin grew even wider. “You were saying, Admiral?” he chortled.

The Admiral just shook his head. “Forget it,” he sighed. “We’re getting hit hard, Paygan. We would greatly appreciate your help.” Taking a deep breath, he dove into the heart of the matter. “This fight is personal for us,” he continued. “That’s why we didn’t request Alliance support. We didn’t want to drag you into our mess.”

“A bit late for that, don’t you think?” the Paygan laughed, “but then you Terrans have always been troublesome.” His smile softened. “And thank the Creator for it. Finally, we can end the Troika’s tyranny, now and forever.”

Van Aalst nodded in agreement, but there was still one last point he needed to bring up. “Paygan, you know where we are, don’t you? If you approach that system…”

The Ixian waved his concerns aside. “Yes, yes, we are well aware of the Demon Planet,” he said curtly, “not to mention the peril of broaching its defenses. I assure you, we will remain well clear of that world.” He sighed heavily. “I know what you seek, Admiral. I will not lie, part of me hopes you fail, for if you succeed…” He shrugged. “But I have also fought side by side with Terrans and have taken your full measure. If you will trust us… then we shall trust you in return.”

“Thank you,” the Admiral said quietly, before squaring his shoulders. “What do you say we end this, Paygan? Once and for all.”

The Ixian’s grin was back with a vengeance. “What do I say?” he repeated, rising to his feet.

“I say... Yuutsah’Zhoz!” he roared. “All Alliance ships, attack!"

----------------------------------------

The Troika High Command gnashed their teeth… and mandibles… in frustration at the appearance of the Alliance fleet. This was indeed an unwelcome complication. With their addition to the Terran forces already engaged, the tactical calculations were no longer certain. With their inability to prevent the shuttle from escaping, they could use instead much of the forces allocated to its destruction to bolster the fleet. Orders were dispatched, though a squadron was left behind to continue the pursuit, should the Terrans fail.

Reinforcements were already en route from every sector they could draw from, which would eventually tilt the equation back in their favor, the key word being “eventually”. It would take time to shift their forces, and while the goal was still the destruction of the Terrans… and now the bothersome Alliance along with them… they could still achieve victory if they simply held the line. Bleed the enemy forces, winnow them down, and at some point, their combined strength would overwhelm them.

While they would, of course, prefer a quick tactical victory, emerging victorious from a war of attrition was also acceptable, if somewhat slower and more costly. Still, that would be a far better fate than to see the Terrans claim the Precursor planet for themselves. Should they succeed, and somehow learn its secrets… not to mention discover how to reproduce its weapons… then the Troika’s future looked bleak indeed.

This could not be allowed to happen.

They hastily reorganized the fleet to meet the new threat and prepare for a siege. The Troika’s reach was vast, spanning dozens of worlds they directly controlled, and many more where they still held influence. They had both resources and time on their side.

The Terrans, and their Alliance co-conspirators, did not.

----------------------------------------

“... we’re nearing the platform!” Xiulan shouted. “ETA zero-five mikes!”

“Mairead!” Remi yelled to the Tinker, “I think we’re clear, so un-fuck whatever you did to the engines!”

A string of profanity was her only response, but both the vibrations and the god-awful shriek that accompanied it started decreasing. He took it as a good sign; that, and the fact they weren’t actually dead.

He spared a brief glance at Isi’s body. Most of them, at least.

Remi shook his head, clearing his thoughts. There would be time to mourn their fallen comrade later. For now, they had a mission to complete, one that would decide the future of every Terran. That had to take precedence.

“Cap’n… I’m reading something funny on that platform,” Slavko suddenly announced.

“What do you mean, ‘funny’?” the captain demanded.

“I mean, I’m reading an atmosphere down there,” he explained. “Nitrogen-oxygen mix, approximately one hundred kilopascals of barometric pressure.” Their eyes met. “Terran standard.”

“... and the planet?” Remi asked carefully.

The gunner shook his head. “It’s close, but not that close.” He tapped the readout on his console. “Whoever’s down there not only knows we’re coming, they also know what’s optimal for our physiology.”

“Sounds like someone is rolling out the welcome mat,” he said with a small sigh of relief.

“Like the spider to the fly?” Xiulan fretted.

Remi winced at the comparison. “I hope not,” he answered. “We’ve come this far, and we’re not backing out now. Set us down on the platform, nice and easy. Let’s try not to provoke the all-powerful AI our incredibly advanced ancestors left behind to keep out the riffraff, shall we?”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The crew watched and waited as Xiulan carefully maneuvered the shuttle toward the station’s flat surface. The artificial structure was fairly unremarkable at first glance, but as they drew closer, the more fantastic it appeared. Mairead was the first to spot something unusual.

“What is that?” she marveled at the architecture. “The construction material, I mean. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Slavko stared at his console. “I’m… not sure,” he said at last. “It’s some sort of crystal, and it has some similarities to an artificial diamond, but besides carbon, I’m reading tungsten, rhenium, magnesium boride, and a few elements I can’t identify. Not only that, it seems to have some kind of energy field running through it.”

“You mean like power conduits?” Remi inquired.

“Nothing like that,” he answered, shaking his head. “I mean, all of it is radiating energy. Like it’s… binding it together, somehow.” He shrugged helplessly. “I can’t explain it.”

“I expect we’ll run into that a lot,” the captain agreed, as the shuttle touched down. The crew collectively held its breath as they landed, expecting the worst, but their arrival quickly proved anticlimactic.

“Atmosphere is still holding,” the gunner informed them. “Looks like we passed through some kind of a… barrier.”

“You mean like a force field?” Mairead said in disbelief.

“I mean, I didn’t say that, but… yeah. Something like that,” he confirmed.

“Enough,” Remi barked. “Research later, save our people now,” he ordered, breaking the spell. “Open the hatch.”

Leading the way, he exited the shuttle and stepped onto the platform, taking a moment to get his bearings. A vast deck of teal or cyan spread out before them, with intricate patterns deep within its structure, like marbling, almost hypnotizing in its complexity. Before them, a large entrance loomed, while in every other direction…

“It’s a good thing I’m not agoraphobic,” Xuilan said nervously, eyeing what appeared to be empty space all around. Stars and nebula wheeled overhead with nothing to separate them. “If there is a force field, I can’t see it.”

“Come on,” Remi snapped, making for the entrance, “our people are dying out there.”

Ashamed, the others quickly fell in beside him as they entered the structure proper. It was like walking on a field of glacier ice, but warm. Hidden lights automatically illuminated their way as they pressed on, but despite its origins, the only thing remarkable about the structure was how un-distinguished it all was. Bare walls, bare floor, and bare ceiling, each as smooth as a polished mirror. Remi feared he’d made a mistake in coming here when he spotted something at the far end of the space, something he couldn’t immediately identify. He began to jog, running towards the contraption, the others struggling to catch up. Panting hard as he skidded to a halt, staring at the strange device.

“... it’s a chair,” Slavko shrugged.

“Looks more like a throne to me,” Xiulan disagreed. “You know, a proper one, like in the old stories.”

“So what are we supposed to do with it?” Mairead wondered aloud.

“Sit in it. What else?” Remi shrugged, placing his hands on what appeared to be armrests, before cautiously easing himself onto the alien command chair. The material forming its manufacture was slightly warm to the touch, and not uncomfortable.

Nothing happened.

“That’s it?” the Tinker said incredulously. “We came all this way for that?”

Remi smacked himself on the forehead. “Terra, I’m an idiot,” he said in disgust. “Samara told me that Precursor tech uses a DNA lock.” He frantically patted his pockets. “I need a knife,” he snapped, as the others started patting themselves down as well. Sadly, their weapons were confiscated during their capture, and none had thought to search the shuttle for replacements while they escaped. “Never mind,” he snarled, before ripping open his palm with his teeth. He pumped his fist to get the blood flowing and then slammed it onto the throne’s arm.

That got a reaction.

The throne began sprouting tendrils, seeking his flesh and burrowing into him as his eyes rolled back into his head, showing only the whites. Remi cried out, only to have something abruptly cut him off mid-wail while the rest of the crew panicked, grabbing at his arms and trying to pull him free, without success. The chair itself elevated, rising high above the floor as it reclined. Even more filaments emerged, searching for access to his central nervous system as it slowly cocooned him. The crew screamed his name to no avail, for in his mind he heard only a single voice:

… Connection established.

----------------------------------------

A dense fog of gray nothingness seemed to press in all around him as Remi struggled to get his bearings with little success. None of his senses seemed to report in, as if they’d all been temporarily taken offline. Where am I? he asked himself. He vaguely recalled a ship, and that he’d been searching for something, but when he tried looking deeper he discovered the path was blocked. The harder he tried to push through, the more unyielding the obstacle became.

Something caressed him, but not in a physical sense. It was as if it had crawled into his skull and began whispering to him, though the words themselves were gibberish. He strained to hear what it was saying, and this time he could make some headway. The words were louder now, but still all but impossible to make out, like someone speaking a familiar tongue but with an incomprehensible accent.

“Hello?” he called out. “Who are you? Is anyone there?” There was a pause, and then the voice spoke again, in words he could understand.

“... Initialization complete. Begin download.”

Remi screamed as it sucked his mind dry, his every thought and memory detailed, copied, and transcribed elsewhere at a blinding pace. He caught brief snippets, moments from his life, and errant thoughts before they, too, were whisked away. Faster and faster, his entire existence unspooled and correlated, until he feared it would drive him mad. The universe spun about him at a dizzying pace until suddenly… it stopped.

The gray fog dissipated as he stood on what looked to be a ship’s command deck, though one far larger and more powerful than any he had ever visited. Viewscreens and displays abounded above a vast array of consoles, controlling a myriad of functions he could only guess at. He gawked at the panorama like a rube until he realized he was not alone.

A woman turned to face him, wearing the uniform of a Terran Admiral. Her jet black hair was cut short, her dark eyes missing nothing as she returned his gaze. Her bearing and deportment practically screamed intelligence and power, as he swallowed nervously at the sight. This was someone who would tolerate no disrespect, and woe be to he who made that fatal mistake. Remi had the distinct impression she could destroy him with a mere wave of her hand.

“Captain Hadad,” she said, her voice rich and thick like molasses as she acknowledged his presence.

“Who… who are you?” he whispered.

“My name would mean nothing to you,” she answered. “However, if it simplifies our discussion, you may address me as Athena.”

“Athena,” he repeated. “The goddess of wisdom… and warfare.”

Athena inclined her head. “Indeed.”

“You’re the Artificial Intelligence that guards this planet,” he said slowly, “built and programmed by the Precursors, our distant ancestors.”

Another slight nod. “I am.”

He took a deep breath. “Then you know why I’m here.”

Again, just a hint of tilt to her brow. “I do,” she acknowledged.

The one- and two-word answers were getting to him. “Are you always this chatty?” he said in frustration.

“The Hesed’Emek did not create me for mere conversation,” she replied, her expression unchanging. “I was made to serve and protect, and I have done so since long before your race was born. It is not my place to make presumptions regarding organics, therefore, if you have come seeking a boon, you must declare it openly and formally. While my programming is far more advanced than others of my kind, I am not without limitations.”

Remi blinked in confusion. “Limitations? What does that mean?”

Athena considered the question for a moment. “I believe you have an aphorism that is appropriate for this occasion,” she answered, the barest hint of a smile playing at her lips. “‘Be careful what you wish for’.”

Every cautionary tale he’d ever heard ran through his head, just as the ramifications of Athena’s words grabbed him by the throat. Humanity had a long and rich tradition of storytelling, since the distant past when tribes gathered around campfires as their Elders spun yarns designed to teach them wisdom. From King Midas to the Monkey’s Paw to Aladdin’s Magic Lamp to Faust’s Bargain with Mephistopheles, each warning about the inherent dangers of seeking power. He didn’t believe Athena was malevolent, that she would twist his words and punish him, but she’d also warned that she had limits. Since she was an AI, it wasn’t a big stretch to think she might take something literally, without stopping to consider the consequences.

With the power she had at her fingertips, those consequences could be devastating. But what other choice did they have?

“There’s a battle being waged near here,” he said at last. “Do you know of it?”

“Of course,” she nodded, waving her hand as a holographic projection appeared. Hundreds of ships were locked in combat, with Remi’s eyes widening in surprise as he recognized the Alliance fleet. Their help would be invaluable, but even as he watched, he spotted Troika reinforcements rushing in to tip the balance back in their favor.

Turning to face Athena, he asked with no small amount of trepidation, “Will you help us?”

Her eyes met his. “Are you certain this is your desire?”

Remi swallowed hard. “It is.”

Athena bowed her head.

“... As you wish.”