Despite any number of arguments to the contrary, the do exist some true successors to the Builders scattered across the Arm.
Between Telkan’s immutable bravery, Leebaw’s undying resistance, Hesstla’s boundless resourcefulness, and Tukna’rn’s unyielding resolve, it is easy to forget that these particular qualities of the older additions to the Confederacy were largely unrealized or otherwise genetically suppressed before the brief intervention of the Builders in their defense against the Atrekna incursion across known space. The same holds in various degrees for the Mantids, Treana’ad, Pubvians, Lanaktallan, Wemtarrans, Converted Atrekna, Logical AWM, and every other race, construct, or group that ever came into contact with the Builders over their brief ten millennia among the stars.
In this way, even though the Builders themselves may have departed the cosmos after spending such a startlingly short time within it, their legacy lives on in the friends they found, the bonds they forged, and the remnants of the vast fleets of warsteel and wrath they commanded in the righteous crusades of the Confederacy of Allied Systems against those forces that would endeavor to defile and strip and maim the Malevolent Universe of its beauty against its wishes.
It is as if every instance of intelligent life in this Malevolent Universe carries deep within themselves some of the same qualities that made the Builders so uniquely perfectly suited to thrive within it, and yet the Builders somehow held the sole key to unlocking that final potential. One might even argue that this development was no accident, that the Malevolent Universe as a living organism had some hand in guaranteeing its own survival with the Builders functioning as some sort of self-propagating fire-and-forget antibody, designed solely to counter and repel the venom of the first Atrekna incursion in the First Precursor War. That is conjecture at best, and falls entirely beyond the scope of this discussion.
All we may know for sure is that our continued existence within the Arm, and indeed the Malevolent Universe as a whole, is that much safer for it. - Builder Scholar tannenbanannen in his foundational work The Builders Effect Upon Surviving Races, New Telkan Press, 22,893 PC3
"Come to me now in my time of need, Saint Jenkins, patron of the berserk charge. Guide my hands this day, make my aim straight and true, that I may gank these mobs and partake of thy blessing of the fried chicken of victory. In the name of the DPS, and the Tank, and the Healer. Buffs plz!" - Unknown, Third Phasic War, end of the Second Precursor War (est)
"My people believe that, so long as a name is spoken, the named is never truly gone. Whatever you are, wherever you are... if a J'tar'ka of questionably sound mind may ask a boon of you... please speak my name sometimes, that I may continue to be long after I am gone. Speak it wherever and whenever you are, so that, wherever or whenever I am, I will receive the strength to ensure your future.
"My name is Wuugndra Ax'mnev, and I love you." --Combat telemetry voice recording, discovered in rubble during reconstruction following the final TPS Breakout Event in System RH-8162. Dated to the last fifth of the Third Phasic War (confidence: 85%) Fate of either speaker has not been determined. (As transcribed by u/daviskendall)
MANDATORY VIEWING MESSAGE
"As Planetary Director For Life, it is my solemn duty to care for all of you within my sphere of authority. Are you or someone you know a Terran in distress? Help is available 30 hours a day, 8 days a week, at any time! The New Tnvaru Psychiatric Services can provide grief counseling in addition to many other services. Call or text at any time for an automated, digital sentience, or live being crisis counselor call, a counseling appointment at a clinic or other comfortable location or even a home visit! Let us help you as you have helped us. Call 800-273-8255, operators are standing by!" - Planetary Director For Life Namtotum speaking for the Terran Assistance Program, Post Terran Xenocide Event
END MANDATORY VIEWING MESSAGE
It isn't fair, I didn't do anything to deserve this!
My dog didn't deserve to get eaten by a bunch of Okies but here we are. - From "Conversations in Hell", author Bhro'oms'mo'o the Mad, Lanaktallan Great Galloping Press, 28,978 Post 2PW
Naxen sat, tapping the cutting bar against his armored leg, staring at Emry as the Digital Sentience highlighted the path through the massive space station.
"It's a stupid plan," Wrixet grumped, polishing the grav emitters on his grav-fist. He had the safety cover taken off so he could get at the emitters with the soft cloth.
"What's stupid about it?" D44 asked.
The Telkana still had not remembered her own name or anything about her life, while Naxen and Wrixet had remembered bits and pieces.
"We have to bring the main computer core online," Emry said. "This isn't a space ship, it's a non-orbital forward operations base."
"For a war that's been over for forty-thousand years," Naxen said. He ejected the salt block and shoved a new one in place, slapping it twice to seat it.
"Look, we get to the main computer arrays, we get them online, that will let us run the shade defenses according to the messages," Emry said. He shook his head. "And we have to blow the ansible. That's where the Shades are coming from."
Wrixet just picked up the high impact polyalloy cover for the front of the grav fist, buffing it on his pants leg.
"Once this hazard frame passes the tests, I'll be able to go with you," Emry said. He gave a smile. "I'll be robotic, so I'll have the advantage of strength and speed on my side."
"If you say so," Wrixet said. He snapped the poly-alloy cover back onto the grav fist, then snapped the maintenance plate back into place.
"Look, we get to the primary computer core, we fire the whole thing up," Emry said. "There should be copies of the dogboi howl in the computer, we can use that to get rid of the shades."
Wrixet just nodded. Naxen thumbed the trigger to check the telltales on the cutting bar, nodding along.
D44 looked doubtful, but nodded along.
"It's almost thirty kilometers to the computer core array section," Wrixet said without looking up. "Are we running the whole way?"
"It's a kilometer to the tram," Emry said. "We get on the tram, we ride ten kilometers, then we head through the passages for a kilometer."
"This sounds great," Naxen grumbled.
"It'll be fine," Emry said. "We've already got the red lights on, we've got salt and iron oxide doped H2O mist in the hallways. Nothing can go wrong."
"Great, now we're all going to die," Naxen grumped.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
"It'll be fine. Trust me," Emry said.
Wrixet just grunted.
-----
"See, no Shades. The red is keeping them back," Emry said as the doors opened to reveal the tram-station pad.
Wrixet looked around the cavernous chamber. There were four monorail mag-rail tracks at this level, two more levels up, one level down. Each had a platform as well as an encased waiting room. Holograms winked and danced and flickered, the lights were dim and red.
There were no trams.
"No red," Naxen said.
Emry nodded. "That's why we're wearing armor," he said, his voice more confident than it had been.
A tram went by, the speed making the air shudder and thunder.
For a moment, Wrixet thought he saw... Wrathbound? Warbound?
Big blocky war machines all bound in chains inside the six cars that raced by.
"We'll go over to the covered waiting area, call a tram, then head to the core arrays," Emry said.
Wrixet just nodded, tapping the grav-fist against his thigh pauldron.
He kept looking around, looking at the dark areas, checking out the gaps between the red lights.
He could see things shifting, shadows warping and twisting.
While Emry and D44 went inside, Wrixet grabbed Naxen's arm, holding him at the entrance.
"See that?" Wrixet asked, nodding at the upper levels, where the walls of red hologram were tinged by something that made the red become streaked with wide strips of blue.
"Yeah," Naxen said. He thumbed the activation rocker switch on the Mark II Cutting Bar and the engine growled.
"Emry's forgetting, you can change the color of light with a different color light," Wrixet said.
"Same way we used to spoof the... the..." Naxen reached up and rubbed his face shield between his eyes. "Color. We'd spoof something with color and it would pop out... pop out..."
"Fizzystimes and narcobrews," Wrixet said. He looked at the Telkani he knew, just knew deep inside, was his lifelong friend. "I don't think we were Marines, Telk."
Naxen shook his head. "I don't think so either. I mean, I remembered some stuff about some fancy rifle, a grenade launcher, but beyond that, I don't remember any training or anything like that."
"Memories of military hardware feel more like school hypnotapes, you know?" Wrixet said.
Naxen nodded. "Yeah, yeah, you're right. Has that weird slick feeling to the memories."
"So... how did we end up here?" Wrixet asked.
There was a low humming noise as one of the tram-lines went live.
"Don't know, but whatever it was, someone hated our asses," Wrixet said. He chinned the button and started chewing the piece of stimgum. It felt like someone else's reflex that had been pushed into his brain.
"Tram Delta-Seventeen arriving on Track Nine-Alpha," a female voice said.
"Doesn't matter," Wrixet said. "All that matters is right now."
Naxen nodded. "Yeah," he looked back slyly and then at Wrixet. "D44 got some big milkers, don't she?"
Wrixet chuckled. "Yeah, yeah she does."
"Maybe after all this is over I can convince her to show them to me," Naxen said, smiling. Wrixet could hear the smile in his voice, even though the other Telkan was staring up into the darkness.
Emry and D44 rushed up, stopping next to them.
"Tram is five minutes out. Battery has to fast-charge and the power station has to load emergency reactors in it," Emry said. He smiled. "See, told you, no problem."
"Stop saying that," Wrixet snapped.
Emry frowned but went quiet.
"There's another ship docking," Emry said suddenly. He shook his head. "No transponder," he frowned. "Hellspace distortion is really making it hard to get any data," he shrugged. "Well, he have the Hellspace shields up now, so that'll help."
Nobody answered. D44 shifted over to stand closer to Wrixet and Naxen.
"Drali'imna," she said softly. "My name is Drali'imna. My friends call me Imna."
Both males nodded.
"Nice to meet you, Imna," Wrixet said.
The tram pulled in.
"Hold open the door, I'm going to attach a pair of emitters to the tram," Emry said.
Imna boarded, with Naxen, and Wrixet held the door open. Emry moved up to the front, slapping one low and one high, turning them on so they projected a hologram of a wall of crimson. He moved to the tram.
"Hold open the door, Wrixet," he looked inside. "D44, hold open the door for me on the other side."
Imna nodded, moving to the door and opening it, then leaning on the sensor.
Emry repeated it, ensuring that the front of the tram was covered by a red wall. He got on and motioned. "Get onboard."
Wrixet nodded, moving over and standing by the wall.
The tram pulled out, gaining speed rapidly. Wrixet kept one eye on the front of the tram, where he could see the red wall in front of the windows of the automated tram.
Naxen and Imna had their face shields together, using vibration conduction to talk to each other. Wrixet could tell Imna kept laughing. Emry kept staring at the map, tracking the blinking dot of the tram as it moved through the tunnels.
He wasn't sure what warned him. Maybe a slight color shift, maybe things had been going too well.
He reached out and grabbed Naxen and Imna, yanking them both back so they slammed into the wall next to him. Imna let out a squawk.
Naxen thumbed the cutting bar to life, looking around.
There was a wide blue streak through the middle of the red hologram.
Shades whipped through the middle of the car, screaming, scrabbling, trying to grab the quartet as the tram swept through them. Wrixet felt the outer muscle of his thigh erupt in pain, like someone had stuck a frozen knitting needle into the muscle.
Then the shades were gone.
"Must have been a cyan hologram emitter," Emry said. He lifted up one arm, an access panel open, and began tapping the keys. "Dammit, the tram uses a laser that's acting like cyan."
"Fix it!" Wrixet yelled as another group of shades swept through.
"I'm trying!" Emry yelled back.
The tram suddenly slid to a stop. The blue streak vanished.
Wrixet looked.
There were still some shades at the back of the far car. They were milling around, but Wrixet knew it would only be a few minutes before they spotted the quartet.
"Get off the tram!" Wrixet yelled as the doors snapped open.
Imna didn't even flinch, throwing herself out the door. Naxen grabbed Emry, pulling the heavy robot behind him.
"Door Charlie-Three!" Emry yelled, pulling loose of Naxen and running for the door.
Wrixet dropped a smoke grenade behind him as he ran, hearing it hiss as it put out reddish smoke laced with sodium and ferrous powder.
The run to the core computing array left him gasping, trying to breathe, the armor seeming to squeeze his chest.
Still, they reached it in less than ten minutes.
Emry hurried over to the main control panel that sat in front of a macroplas window, the computer server arrays behind it dark and silent.
Naxen was bent over, hacking and coughing. Imna had one hand against the wall, gasping, her other hand pressed against her belly. Wrixet was down on one knee, one fist pressed against the floor, head lifted, grav fist tight by his waist, as he struggled to control his breathing.
"Come on, come on," Emry said, hitting the buttons and switches. A screen flickered to life and the lights came on, dim, but still on. "Yes!" Emry put his hand against an induction port.
Data started streaming down the solitary active screen. More screen started powering up. The computer arrays started spooling up, the vast server farm warming up and coming online.
Emry turned to the trio of Telkan.
"I need the three of you to go down to Airlock Nineteen-Sigma," Emry said. "A ship's docking."
"How far is it?" Wrixet asked.
"Two kilometers," Emry made a tossing motion and Wrixet's helmet beeped. A map of crimson and silver appeared with a dotted line moving through the twisting labyrinth. "There, you'll be able to get there."
"What do you want us to do?" Naxen asked, slowly straightening up.
"Find out who it is. Let them know what's going on. Get them up to speed," Emry said. He smiled. "Be nice to have some more help."
"Yeah," Wrixet said.
It's never that easy, Telk, went through his mind. Not for people like us.
"We better get moving," Naxen said.
"Hurry," Emry said.
The trio moved out, Naxen still breathing hard. Imna was fine, recovering quickly.
Telkana were faster and recovered quicker from running than Telkani.
"Easy for him to tell us to hurry, he doesn't have to breathe," Imna griped.
Naxen just nodded, lifting his arms up over his head.
Wrixet just grunted.
They moved quickly, keeping an eye out for any shades.
"Airlock is cycling. Probably a Confederate Space Force vessel," Emry said in their headsets right as they reached the door for the interlock zone that was between the interior airlock door and a corridor.
"Right," Naxen said. He looked at Wrixet. "Be good to have some other people."
"It will," Imna said.
"Yeah," Wrixet felt cynicism well up. Not something new, but something that felt old and comfortable.
"Opening the door," Emry said.
"Wait, can you see..." Naxen started.
The door opened.
Inside the interlock zone were creatures.
Bipeds.
Spikes on the shoulders, on the forearms, down the back.
Fang toothed maws.
Black skin or shell, cracked all over with dark crimson burning sullenly deep in the cracks.
Red, malevolent eyes.
All staring at the trio.
"Inside?" Naxen finished.
The creatures inside all shrieked at the same time.
The grav fist snarled as Wrixet extended his arm out at a 45 degree angle to his body and activated the melee weapon even as he yelled.
"FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE, TELK!"