It was a tense flotilla of ships that arrived at a binary system nominally claimed by the Eleexx, though with the exception of a small science station situated on a rocky asteroid, it was bereft of life. It claimed no habitable planets, little in the way of commercial resources, and was in fact a hazard to navigation. Yet hundreds of vessels had arrived at this lonely outpost without fanfare, most of them convinced the reason for their presence in this barren star system was some elaborate hoax.
Aboard Sigurd, Genvass and his crew shut down engines, taking position a safe distance from the system’s two stellar bodies. The first was dangerous enough in its own right, a massive red giant bright enough to be seen thousands of light years away. As impressive as the giant star was, however, it wasn’t what had brought them here. It was the red star’s companion that had their full attention, the spinning accretion disk siphoning a stream of plasma from the supergiant, feeding the ever-hungry monster that resided there.
A ravenous beast called a gravitational singularity… otherwise known as a black hole.
The fleet watched and waited nervously while Captain Taneka made the final preparations. Satisfied, she nodded to the diplomat. “It’s all yours, Ambassador,” she informed him. “Live mic.”
Gevass turned and addressed the camera. “Greetings. For those who don’t know me, I am Genvass Shaafvaazif, Ambassador of New Terra and Chief Executive Pro Tem of our Provisional Government. We come here today to fulfill a promise, one made in the aftermath of war, and finalized with dreams of peace.”
Every eye was glued to their monitors throughout the fleet, split between the ambassador’s speech and an exterior view of the Terran vessel. There were still many who did not trust the humans, with good reason in their minds. The most recent conflict had been as short as it was bloody, and most of those in attendance believed this was merely a pause, a brief interlude before the fighting began in earnest once more.
He hoped to prove them wrong.
“Months ago, a ship appeared in the skies above the To’uuk homeward, a ship unlike any seen in living memory, more advanced and powerful than even a Troika dreadnought. It does not matter that rogue elements stole the vessel without official sanction, as we Terrans acknowledge our responsibility. This gesture that we make today, in this place, we pray will be an important first step on the road to eventual reconciliation.”
He turned and gave the ship’s commander a nod. “Captain Taneka, if you would proceed.”
She was already at her console as she carried out his order, sending a command to yet another ship, this one completely unmanned. The vessel known as Peacemaker picked up speed, its course already laid in. With Taneka piloting it remotely, the ancient ship was dispatched out for one final voyage, while the captain steered the craft directly into the stellar black hole. Nearing the accretion disc, the time dilation due to gravity became increasingly noticeable as it red-shifted, slowly growing fainter the deeper into the gravity well it flew. The other ships watched with intense interest, each fearing the Terrans would change course at the last minute, this entire proceeding merely a farce before sending it against the Grand Alliance fleet.
The minutes ticked by as the great ship slowly disappeared, sinking ever deeper into the vortex whirling about the black hole, before finally vanishing from sight.
The human ambassador allowed the other ships to run their own tests, ensuring the Precursor vessel truly had been swallowed by the black hole. Taneka double-checked her own instruments before giving Genvass a nod.
“It’s done, Ambassador,” she said quietly.
“Thank Mother Terra,” he whispered.
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Destroying Peacemaker gave the Terrans time to breathe. The other races feared that ship and the power it represented. Yet despite the grandiosity of their gesture, the core issue of Precursor technology still lay between them. As long as they possessed it and others did not, peace would remain forever beyond their grasp. Everyone recognized this, the humans most of all. They spent many a late night hammering out a proposal to present to the Grand Alliance, though, in the end, no one was especially happy with it.
It was just better than the alternative.
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The Ixians once again offered to host the conference requested by the Terrans. Despite taking Peacemaker off the board, many races still distrusted them. The Paygan’s… and by extension, the emperor’s… assurances of safe conduct helped calm their fears, while whispered rumors of a big announcement enticed even those most skeptical to return to Achxii. It was a dilemma none could ignore; remain home in safety and potentially be cut out from any agreements, or attend the conference and chance the Terrans didn’t have another Precursor warship waiting in the wings.
In the end, curiosity won out. The myriad of races all watched with rapt attention as Genvass mounted the stage, taking his place behind the lectern as he started to speak.
“My fellow delegates, I have come before you today to present to you a proposal, one which I hope you will give your full consideration. The recent unpleasantness between our peoples occurred for a single reason… fear. Fear of the power we Terrans now possess. Fear for your worlds, and your children. Fear of the unknown. Fear of finding yourselves left behind, as the galaxy takes a great leap forward.” He paused, looking out over the audience. “Fear is a powerful motive, but it is rarely a welcome one. For that same fear, if left unchecked, will drive this galaxy into war… a war so vast, so deadly, that even the ravages of the Yīqún would pale in comparison.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “As head of our Provisional government, I tell you this; we would do almost anything to prevent that war from taking place. Granted, our world would protect us from such a conflagration. We could remain behind our shield and simply wait, while the rest of your worlds slowly destroy one another. We would survive, while many of you here today would not.”
There were gestures of assent scattered throughout the great hall. "But if we were to simply allow that to happen, what kind of neighbors would we be?" he continued. "Especially when you accept, as we have, that it is due to both our own good fortune, as well as our negligence, that created the environment in which the prospect of war now threatens to boil over.” Genvass looked out over the crowd. “We Terrans teach our children many things in order to prepare them for adulthood. Perhaps the most important of those lessons is this simple truth; ‘Clean up your own mess’.”
He smiled wryly at that. “Our distant ancestors, the race known as the Precursors, understood this as well, though perhaps they took their own sweet time in dealing with the Yīqún. Still, it was through the sacrifice of the being known as Caretaker, the last of their race, that they finally made good on their promise.” His eyes found the Paygan, as a knowing look played across his features. “With that example as our guide, how can we do any less?”
And now we come to it, he thought to himself, as he reached the heart of his prepared speech. “But what those of you gathered here today truly fear is the technology we Terrans now possess, the wealth of knowledge bequeathed to us by our forebears. A technology so vast, so powerful, it would grant those who wield it domination over all. If we decided to follow that path, the reality is that none of you could stop us. Even your combined fleet was no match for the forces our clan leaders brought to bear against you. We could impose our will upon the entire galaxy, and no one could stop us. Not today, not tomorrow… not ever.”
A grim pall settled in over the crowd as they recognized the truth of those words. It was that very fear that triggered the war in the first place. They eyed the Ambassador closely, waiting with no small amount of trepidation to hear his proposal, with many in the audience fearing the worst.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“It may not surprise you to learn,” he continued, “the Precursors themselves chose that path during their time. They were a race devoted to a single purpose, allowing nothing to stand in its way. All that they created served that purpose, including their foreign policy. A policy that was as straightforward as it was harsh: Interfere, and be destroyed.” He grimaced at that and then shrugged. “I will not lie, there are still those among my race who believe it to be the wisest choice. It is most assuredly the simplest one.” He took a deep breath before addressing the room. “But I have to believe that it is the wrong choice.”
There were hushed whispers coming from the audience now as they wondered where he was leading them. “If it is the inequity of power driving the looming conflict before us, then it occurs to me that the way to peace is by leveling that playing field. Therefore, I propose, as the duly appointed representative of New Terra, to share Precursor technology with any race that requests it.”
The room exploded in pandemonium as they marveled at the news, though many were still wary of this overture. Others were already calculating how they might use this knowledge to their benefit, and more than a few sidelong glances were observed as they imagined how they might crush their enemies once and for all.
Genvass waited until the worst of it died down, before raising his hand for quiet. “But,” he added, silencing them, “simply handing out that sort of advanced technology indiscriminately will simply ensure the war we are trying desperately to avoid will take place, only with far deadlier weapons in our arsenal. So instead of driving us apart in bloody conflict, I choose instead to bind us together, united in common purpose.”
He held up his tablet. “I propose this: that any race wishing to share in the knowledge our accident of birth has granted us must first agree to be a part of a joint body, an organization designed to foster peace and cooperation across the galaxy. All races are welcome, and no one will force you to accept our proposal. If you choose not to accept, that is, of course, your right.” He smiled thinly as he prepared to drop the other shoe. “However, if opting out is your decision, you will never, ever, be allowed access to the technology we now possess.”
They stared in stunned silence as the implications of that statement sank in. “The choice is simple. Join us in creating a better world, for yourselves and your children, or be left behind, watching from the sidelines as your own technology grows increasingly obsolete.” His eyes were full of passionate intensity as he gazed across the crowd. “The time has come to decide; Sink… or Swim.”
The audience erupted once more as they all began shouting for attention, while Genvass stepped down from the stage and exited the room. The Paygan had generously granted the Terran delegation a small antechamber near the conference hall, where the ambassador collapsed into the nearest chair. He had no idea how they would ultimately react to his proposal, though he had his suspicions. Just wait til they read the fine print, he chuckled to himself, as the Ixian delegate entered the room and took a seat across from him.
“I would say you have their full attention,” the Paygan said with a grin.
“So it would seem,” Genvass agreed. “Do you think they’ll agree to it?”
“Oh, I expect there will be a great deal of blustering and posturing, not to mention a plethora of bribery attempts, but in the end?” His grin grew even wider. “You dangle the prize they have sought for so very long before them, and all you ask in return is to sign their names on a piece of parchment. They’ll agree, of that, I have no doubt.” His smile quickly faded. “You will have to watch them closely, however, for they will most assuredly attempt to break their agreement.”
“Let them try,” the ambassador said coldly. “We don’t intend on granting them access to everything. Some of the more tempting bits we’ll be keeping for ourselves… just in case.”
“Wise,” the Paygan nodded in agreement, before changing subjects. “I meant to ask earlier, where is your chief of security? I had hoped to speak with her… at her convenience, of course.”
Genvass smiled. “She stayed behind to deal with… a personal matter,” he explained.
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Blye opened the door to her cabin. “Yes, can I help you?”
“Hey Blye, it’s me,” Rúna informed her. “You have a minute?”
“Of course,” she smiled, opening the door wider for her. “Please, come in.” The pair stepped inside as the Knight closed the door behind them. “What brings you by?”
“Well, I wanted to thank you again for lending me your sword,” she explained, taking a seat.
“My pleasure,” Blye nodded, “though I wish it hadn’t been necessary.”
“Yeah, me too,” Rúna sighed. “But it turned out all right in the end. That’s something, at least.”
“It’s a lot more than ‘something’,” she said pointedly. “You took a tremendous risk, but a crucial one, I think. I’m just glad the Paygan survived. It could have ended far, far worse,” she said wistfully.
“I know,” the Valkyrie said softly. “In fact, it almost did.”
Blye cocked her head. “Why are you really here, Rúna?” she asked. “You didn’t stop by just to chat about my sword.”
“No… I didn’t,” she agreed. Taking a deep breath, she held out her gift. “There’s something here I want you to have.”
A look of confusion appeared on the Knight’s face, but she held out her hands, nonetheless. Rúna placed her present gently within them, as Blye ran her fingers across its surface. “Strange texture,” she murmured. “What is it?”
“... the Repository,” the Valkyrie said quietly. “It’s yours, now.”
The Knight froze, almost in a panic, but long years under harsh conditions stayed her hand. “Why are you giving me this?” she whispered.
Rúna shrugged helplessly. “It’s not for me,” she answered, shaking her head. “Besides, you could do a lot of good with it. You could help people, folks that you couldn’t help otherwise.” She reached out and touched her arm. “You could see again, Blye. With Guardian’s help.”
A small choking sob escaped her lips before she regained her composure. “I’d given up on ever seeing my son’s face,” she said in hushed tones, “but this…”
“I know it’s a lot,” she told her, “and I know it’s intimidating, not to mention more than a little creepy. Scared the shit out of me, when I linked with it. But… it’s actually not so bad,” she smiled. “And Guardian’s pretty good company, though his sense of humor could use some work.” She squeezed the Knight’s arm. “Just think of all the good you can do with the knowledge inside that box.”
Blye stared blankly at her, with her sightless eyes, before tentatively stroking the device once more, her delicate fingers feeling the fractal patterns that made up its surface. Working up her courage, she began giving it a more thorough examination, her confidence growing as it sat in her lap, not reacting to her touch. Finally, she returned her attention to her guest. “Why, Rúna?” she asked. “Why are you giving it up?”
“Because I don’t want to end up like Samara,” she confessed. “The kind of power Guardian has access to? I’m not gonna lie, it’s addicting. I’ve only had a taste of it, and I can already see myself getting used to the notion.” She was silent for a moment, and then said, “But I know what will happen if I go down that road. Adrenaline is one hell of a drug, and the more I used the box, the more I’d want to use it. I don’t want to live that life anymore, Blye,” she admitted, “and I’ve danced on the razor’s edge long enough. But you? You’re different. You won’t be tempted, not the way I am. And besides, in your hands, I’ll know it’s being put to good use.”
The Knight slowly let out the breath she’d been holding. “I’m a little scared,” she confided. “It’s an enormous responsibility.”
“It is,” she agreed, “but I know you can handle it. And if not? Give it to someone else,” she suggested.
Blye nodded, her hands running across the box’s surface once more. “I need some time with this,” she said at last, “time to really think about it.”
“There’s no rush. Thing’s been around for a billion years. It ain’t going anywhere,” she chuckled.
Blye laughed with her, the two women sharing the moment, until Rúna finally rose to her feet. “Whatever you decide,” she told her, “it’ll be the right choice. I’m sure of that. And when you do decide,” she continued, going to the door and opening it.
“... tell Guardian I said hi,” she smiled, closing the door behind her.
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Maggie was in the process of making dinner when she felt a tug on her pant leg. Micah looked up at her, his dark eyes more intense than usual. “Supper’s almost ready,” she told him, “you just hold your horses.”
He tugged on her pant leg again, more insistent this time. “It ain’t done yet,” she groaned. “If you’re in that big a hurry, you can go set the table.”
Micah tugged again, this time pointing toward the back of the house. While not as mute as Diggs had been when she’d found him, the young boy used his words sparingly. He was still traumatized by the loss of his mother, though he was slowly coming out of his shell. So far no other relatives had emerged from the woodwork, and the aging Tinker had accepted the fact he was her responsibility now. Truth be told, she was glad for it. Micah was a sweet boy, and she would have hated giving him up.
But the way he was jabbing his finger was all too familiar. “Somethin’ you want me to see, boy?” she asked him. He nodded earnestly, taking her hand and all but dragging her to the other side of the house. Maggie followed behind, her curiosity growing, until she realized where the boy was taking her.
Diggs’ room.
“Oh, God,” she said in a rush, fearing the worst. Diggs’ condition hadn’t improved; he just lay there in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Blye assured her she was doing what needed to be done, only he wasn’t getting better. Part of her was terrified by the notion he might never improve, but if he’d taken a turn…
Maggie burst into his room, her heart pounding in her chest, only to come skidding to a halt, her hand going to her mouth in shock.
Diggs was sitting up in bed, a confused expression on his face, but for the first time since their reunion, his eyes held focus again. He glanced at her in surprise.
“... Mom?”