It's existence is a dichotomy. As all known builder vessels, it should be strangely beautiful. Every line and angle placed with an exacting precision. The hull, cracked with age, still somehow smooth to an impossible degree, almost like a soft skin of a living creature.
But something is wrong.
The animal hindbrains of the Chosen's crew are collectively screaming that this is something that isn't right. That this is something that does not belong in this universe. But between the desire to flee for their lives, or to stand and fight against their murderer, Imperial discipline is iron clad. The battlecruiser's engines alight into combat burn, and dozens of turreted weapons spin about to take aim at the newborn god.
It is a panicked assault that should have been overwhelming. Five Buster Rounds and eight heavy missiles scream collectively through the void. Enough firepower to have crippled the
Lost Cause with ease. It never even reaches the target.
It happens so quickly and so suddenly that it takes a moment for the event to register with the Chosen's crew. A halo of energy flares around the newly awakened god, an eldritch trail of lightning that tears away at its own hull before vanishing from sensors.
A blink, and the stars are gone; replaced instead by a realm of half-flesh and half-metal that encompases the battlecruiser. Struts and piers stretch from the walls like the demented teeth of a mechanical maw. And it is only as that thought registers that the same tendrils which had ripped open the God's womb emerge from the surrounding walls. And with charges and magazines spent, the crew of the Chosen can do nothing but scream in terror as they and their ship are consumed by their would-be victim.
The minds of ten thousand sentients scream out in terror as one across the void before being silenced.
The crew of the Omen was to flee. The sudden erasure of the Chosen battlecruiser all they need to see to know just how out of their league this entire situation is. But with their Impulse Drive damaged, they cannot trigger the momentum shift required to initiate a Hellscape Jump.
They are trapped. And as they were forced to watch this
thing that their prey had awakened slaughter their allies, they could do nothing more than watch as it then came for them. They tried to fight, the panicked struggles of a wounded animal.
It amounted to nothing as their murderer's maw opened up, and it's eldritch tendrils reached for them.
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You awaken, and nothing makes sense to you any more.
The pale statue that had cradled you unto slumber holds your head in its lap, long cold fingers running through your hair. Much like your father had done numerous times when you were younger. You don't know who this person is, but their presence is comforting.
That thought terrifies you.
"Ah, you're awake?" She looks down, and you can feel her eyes on you even though they're covered. "You don't have to worry. I've taken care of those that chased you here. I even made sure to secure the health of your… followers." She hesitates at the end, audibly forcing herself to change what she had been about to say. "Would you like me to call them, Captain?"
You blink as you realize you've been staring at her, "Ah—" You reflexively try to sit up, but the air around you suddenly becomes as solid as metal. A vast crushing weight that robs you of air until you begin to relax back into this woman's hold. "I should check on them," you gasp out once your breath returns, but she shakes her head.
"You need your rest. I can easily bring one of them here if necessary; they should be respectful of my Captain." Something about those words seems off to you, but the little voice you attribute to being your survival instinct says demanding the entity that almost just crushed you for release is a bad idea.
"...Alright. Then could you ask for AD-331? He was my second on the
Lost Cause." And now that you think about it, you should probably ask what happened to your family's ship. Thankfully though, that can wait until after you've checked on your crew.
"I'll have one of my Agents find him for you." And with that, she returns to running her fingers through your hair. You awkwardly roll onto your side, curious if she'd stop even that, but the most she does is pull your head against her stomach.
You lay there like that for several minutes before AD-331 finally arrives, an armored individual escorting him.
"Captain…?" Your second stares at your position in the woman's lap, and you can't stop yourself from fidgeting.
"Please, don't say anything. How is everyone?"
AD-331 looks between you and your 'jailer' before apparently deciding he isn't paid enough to deal with this. "Casualties were minimal. My Father's Marines had the same navigational troubles we did before… well." He looks up past you at the woman still carding her fingers through your hair.
"It is an automated system. My internal layout is non-euclidean, which makes maps useless at best, detrimental at worst." You're pretty sure that description is missing something, but it still describes what you had to deal with pretty accurately. Also, what did she mean by… "As I told our Captain, my name is
Childhood's End." Ah, that explains things. She's the controlling intelligence of the God Vessel.
A moment later it's everything you can do not to jolt up screaming your lungs out, managing to strangle it down to simply stiffening.
AD-331 on the other hand has much better self control, glancing between you and the now-named Childhood's End with only a click from his teeth to show his surprise. (Though you also notice he tries reaching for a sidearm that isn't there any more. What happened to your combat skin? You're in your undersuit.) "You're the one to thank for the help then? Several of our groups were about to be overrun when…" He glances over his shoulder towards the armored individual behind him, "I'm… not sure what to call them, showed up and bailed us out."
"They are my Agents, semi-biological androids that perform simple maintenance tasks and man isolated stations during combat scenarios, as well as engage intruders like those that attempted to kill my Captain."
AD-331 nods to that, with you nodding along reflexively after a moment. Your Second straightens up before entering parade rest to deliver his report. "As things stand, one in twenty five crew members are injured in some manner, though most injuries are centered around the direct combat personnel. The thought-direction led them into our Marines in priority over non-combat crew members such as the engineers. Some of the… agents, led the injured to what we're assuming is the medical bay, so there've been very few deaths."
Overall it's good news, though the confirmation that more of your crew has died bothers you. "I see…" Out of a crew of nearly seven thousand, if one in twenty five were casualties that means roughly two hundred and eighty are either dead or in need of medical attention. Since Childhood's End had her agents lead the wounded to the medical bay you can assume she's not against them recovering, so that is a problem you don't have to worry about. If anything, now would be a good time to start asking questions. "Childhood's End, why do you keep calling me your Captain?"
"Oh?" Her avatar's fingers stop threading through your hair and you can feel her gaze drop from AD-331 to you. "That's because you are. The confirmation process was initiated by your blood, allowing me to awaken from my dormant state. It's been a very long time since I've moved, the damage is extensive."
"Damage?"
"Ninety percent of my systems have suffered various levels of deterioration from remaining within Realspace for such an extended duration. As it stands, my Manufactorum is barely capable of gestating my Agents and equipping them. My projectors can only allow me to emit a handful of my subspace filaments without taking extra damage, and none of my other weapons are operable. Worst of all, my Hull's connection to my webbing has deteriorated to the point it has near-completely separated from my true self."
"...Okay, first what do you mean by true self?"
"I was built utilizing the Angel-Maker method."
"The uh… the what?"
Childhood's End's brow furrows slightly, before appearing to realize something. "My energy grid doubles as a mental projection and information storage system. I am effectively an energy being who also possesses a body of physical mass. The degradation caused by Realspace exposure has caused my 'body' and 'spirit' to become disjointed from each-other."
"So you're a… ghost?" AD-331 asked.
"In a sense, I suppose."
That leaves you with more questions than answers, but most of them are of a more personal and less mandatory bent. "How does your spirit, or power grid, being separated from your body affect you?" Probably not the most tactful way to ask, but… "I assume that you're not going to give me a choice of turning down being your Captain. So I might as well know how this will affect your combat ability."
This time when the avatar's brow furrows it's less out of confusion like before and more obviously from frustration. Something you can recognize if only from how often you've seen it on your own face in a mirror. "It means that in spite of having access to my full power, I cannot effectively divert that power into my subsystems. A functional power core but no conduits if you would," —that makes sense— "though it doesn't matter much because I have little
to direct that power to at the moment."
That doesn't sound good, "What do you mean? Are you damaged in other ways?"
"Yes. The degradation caused by Realspace has caused many of my Systems to dissolve over time as well. As it is, all of my primary weapons are disabled in some form due to the seperation of my grid from my hull, and what Projectors I have cannot handle more than a small fraction of my being without taking even more damage."
You blink as something occurs to you. "Why do you keep talking about Realspace like that? What kind of degradation?"
"In order to explain my Degradation, I need to explain the methods used in my construction. What we refer to as Realspace has limitations in what you can do. Maximums that can't normally be bypassed… the Angel-Maker Method was a way to do exactly that. Doctor Ferengi Angel, and his partner Doctor Joshua Maker, discovered that the laws of physics do not actually reach into Warpspace—"
"Warpspace?" It takes a moment for you to realize that yes you said that out loud, and that AD-331 copied the question at the same time. Childhood's End frowns at both of you this time for the interruption.
"I believe you call it the Hellscape. Or at least that's what I managed to piece together from your crew's own mutterings." Ah, you should have guessed that. It has different names depending on who you're talking to: you'd heard the Federation called it Phasespace, while the Skeld called it… something. You can't actually remember at the moment.
Probably because you have a habit of trying very hard not to think about the Skeld and their time fuckery. Or their habit of casually blowing you to pieces just to pop you back into existence for the 'lawl's. Or… anything they are or do really. Seriously, fuck the Skeld.
Wait, you're getting distracted.
"As I was trying to say… Warpspace doesn't have the same rules as Realspace does. The Angel-Maker Method uses that fact in order to create things that don't follow the same laws as Realspace, which allows for massively improved capabilities. However, as a side effect of this, such constructions cannot remain in Realspace for extended periods before the rules governing their existence begin to conflict with those which Realspace operates on, which… I suppose you could say it 'corrodes' the construct in question."
"I see. So—" Don't say 'what', that would be rude and likely make her think you're reiterating questions she's already answered which could annoy the practical deity that still has your head in her lap, "who exactly are you? I mean, I know you're the ship, but i don't really know anything
about the ship."
"That is simple~" You feel her shift underneath your head, just before she suddenly reaches down and pulls you up into her lap, allowing you to look directly into her blindfolded eyes, "I am DNM-10, third of the
Patricide-class Motherships. My designation is
Childhood's End. And I am your ship, My Captain."
And with those words, she leans in to give your cheek a kiss and… is she sniffing you? You think she's sniffing you, or at least your hair. Did you smell good to her or something? Though if you're remembering the data correctly there's a not inconsiderable chance that the people that made you added something to your scent to make you more attractive to the vessel you were meant to command. A potentiality that increases as you feel her hands begin to roam.
AD-331 is also watching this scene as it plays out with obvious interest, which you think is slightly disturbing in more than one way. You need a subject change. Or to get back on topic.
"So, um, you've repeatedly stated that degradation from being in Realspace for so long has caused damage across your entire structure. If I'm to be your captain, then my first priority will be to get you into proper fighting shape. How do we repair you? Because I know from your… interesting layout alone that you're likely beyond Imperial technology, if not anyone else in the galaxy."
"I can handle my own repairs." Childhood's End lets up off of… molesting you, instead leaning back so she can pull you against her chest to start running her fingers through your hair again. You also mentally note that she's far taller than you, making you just small enough for your head to comfortably rest in the crook of her neck.
… That actually feels wrong, because you remember her being shorter than you when you crashed into her during the firefight. Did she modify her avatar? "With the materials I took from those that were trying to kill you, I can restore my Agents to their full roster and replace the ones that are too old to be effective. They can then bring my manufactorum back to full function, which will allow me to start repairing my degraded systems."
"I see. How much can you currently repair then? With what you have?"
"The list is rather limited, and if I fix one thing I won't have enough for anything else. All of my main cannons are offline, and my hull can't project much of my True-Self into the space around us without taking more damage. Added onto that, my shields are a fraction of their true strength, and my ability to project a subspace storm is… non-existent." The list was enough to bring a rather adorable pout to Childhood's End's lips. "My Warp Drive is still fully functional, but my ability to translate into Subspace is… questionable at best due to the state of my Hull. I am good for micro jumps, but anything more runs the risk of my hull disintegrating, or worse."
"Worse?"
"I risk accidentally leaving it and everyone on board behind in Subspace."
"That is definitely worse."
"My Librarium Vault is… corrupted, and my Shipyard is little better than a scrap heap. I'm not letting anyone use my Teleportarium until my Agents can give it an overhaul, and my Drone Facilities have partially caved in somehow. My Stasis Crypt is still functional, but then again it was designed to survive even if I was mostly vaporised. My Warchive is fragmented, but in better shape than my Librarium Vault, and my External Heaven Arrays are… well, the less said about their states the better I think."
That was…
"Oh, my internal biosphere also needs rejuvenating."
Your brain crashes.
Childhood's End had a biosphere. Because of course she did, '
Why the fuck does a warship need a biosphere?!' is what you
want to scream at the top of your lungs, but your crashed mental faculties makes that impossible as you just sit there with a likely dumb look on your face while the woman-that-is-now-your-fucking-ship just keeps petting you.
A sound from the doorway announces AD-331's own rendezvous with the floor, specifically his legs giving out, forcing him to just sit down as the revelation washes over him. You have no clue how to take this, and it seems he doesn't either which is weirdly comforting.
"I… see." Hey look, Stasia.EXE has managed to reboot! "What do you have that
is functional?" (A quiet note in the back of you head manages to register that she can also FTL through
subspace, which notoriously causes critical existence failure in any matter that somehow enters it, but that gets drowned out by the fact your new ship has it's own fucking biosphere.)
"I have the minimal required Shielding for Warp Jumps, and my Inertia Drive is capable of basic pushing. I can't reach combat speeds until repairs are made, but I'm not immobile at least."
Part of you wants to know what she means by "combat speeds", but the little that's managed to recover from the previous shocking revelations manages to strangle your curiosity. "Is there anything specific you'd like us to repair first? And while you're at it, can you tell us the core systems that should be a priority?"
"I'd personally love to have my full Subspace capabilities as soon as possible, so my Hull. It's fine as is, but without the fusion between it and my True Self then I can't make any kind of significant Subspace Jump. Which is much more preferable for short distances than the Warp and the Feasters within." Feasters… she must mean the Entities. "As for systems that should be a priority… I would have to say my shields and cannons. The rest could be useful by sheer utility, but if you desire for the best personal results, then it will have to be those."
"I see…" You very carefully don't say what you
wanted to, because from wording alone something tells you saying it would cause…
problems. "I will have to think about it. As it is though, I'm going to need to confer with my officers. Do you have a bridge or a conference room that we can gather everyone at?"
Childhood's End noticeably doesn't release her hold on you, but she does smile and wave her hand out to…
It's beautiful.
That is the only descriptor you can think of: the pitch darkness that has surrounded you is suddenly banished by light that floods in as the black walls suddenly become transparent, revealing the cosmos. The strands of gas that make the patchwork quilt of the Apollyon Nebulae become your sky as your raised throne/bed overlooks descending decks with nearly a dozen more stations where officers are supposed to do their duties.
Silver-blue metal is the floor, with soft white cushions to the chairs that literally unfold from the floor, same as the throne/bed you lay upon with
Childhood's End's avatar. There are no visible struts to hold up what would normally be armored glass, giving the illusion that there is nothing between you and the unforgiving void of space.
You have no idea how long you stare at the view, but between you and your second, you are the first to recover. "Ah… alright."
This is your bridge?! How advanced did someone have to be to get away with this?! "AD-331, please gather the bridge crew, I would speak with them." He nods dumbly before stumbling awkwardly out of the door he had come in through while trying valiantly to keep his eyes on the not-sky above you. "Childhood's End, when they arrive, would you be willing to fetch us some refreshments if you could?"
"Certainly~!" She cheerfully replies, "One of my Agents can—"
"Childhood's End… please. I would appreciate the chance to speak with them on my own." She freezes at your interruption and
looks at you through her blindfold. Her grip isn't painful, but you also get the feeling that if it wasn't
you, then whatever would have been in her grip would have been annihilated. And she holds you there, face blank and grip absolute, until your bridge crew—including your comms officer who had sold you out for some reason to AD-331's Father—enters.
"Understood. Captain." Her movements as her hands tear themselves from you are stiff and mechanical. As if it is taking everything she has not to scream and refuse to let you go, but she does. Then, without another word, her form dissolves into sparkling motes of golden light before vanishing.
Her sudden absence is overwhelmingly and instantly
crushing. Some part of you that you had not noticed felt
complete with her
right there, revealed by a flash of sheer agony that is beyond words to describe. You want to scream, but your lungs have no air. You want to thrash, but your limbs refuse to respond even as your hand grips the cloth that she had just been sitting on with more than physical force as your eyes alight with the glow of psionic power.
"Ma'am?"
The word is enough for you to finally gather the willpower needed to clamp down on your
everything. That same detached part of your mind that is always there and always rational notes with some irony that
of course your builders would add something to make sure you'd be just as potentially attached to her as she would be to you. A mutual leash that would ensure loyalty more firmly and deeply than a bond between parent and child.
A perfect pair.
You take a deep breath, ignoring how your eyes are clear even as tears flood down your cheeks. "W-we, need to speak about… everything. Several things she said don't add up—" The lighting of the room suddenly shifts as some kind of holographic array activates in reaction to what little rational thought you've pieced together, revealing a massive representation of
Childhood's End's outer hull. "That's… convenient." You take another breath to force down more of the
agony her avatar's absence is filling you with. "She… can probably still hear us. But this at least gives her the illusion of ignoring what we say."
"It's alright, Captain Morev." AD-331 steps forward, taking his usual position to your left. "You said something about what she was saying not adding up?"
"Y-yeah. To start with… her projected dimensions don't fit with the specs that were in the data about
Patricide super-dreadnoughts. To start with…" Numbers fill the projection hovering over you all… before a thought has them suddenly changing to the Empire's basic numerical system. "She's ten kilometers long. Wingtip to wingtip, she's closer to three point seven, and thanks to the lower set, one point seven tall…"
"By the fucking builders, she's wider than most of our dreadnoughts are long…"
You ignore the comment. "
Patricides are closer to six or seven long at most. The
shape of her Hull is correct but… she's far too large to be a proper Patricide." The image of
Childhood's End's hull becomes transparent showing rough locations of where some of her externally-accessible spots
should be, which makes you go crosseyed when more than one overlap themselves in weird ways. "And when she was outlining her damage she glossed over something pretty major." The outline zooms in, while most of it falls away to reveal something deeply disturbing.
"She has a shipyard." EW-1717 speaks what everyone is obviously thinking.
"She called herself a Mothership." You keep your eyes on the image before you as it helps calm the fact her avatar isn't
right there. "The
Patricides were specifically called super-dreadnoughts. Why would a super-dreadnought need a shipyard? And even then, why did she pretend it's her least interesting feature?"
"Having a shipyard means she can build ships. And since she can build ships, that means she can construct a fleet with the same technology used in
her." Which if the specs of the
real Patricides were accurate was… more than 'pants shittingly terrifying'. It was the kind of nightmare scenario that could cause societal collapse from raw panic if it got out. "There's also the fact she says her Librarium Vault and Warchive are both…
damaged, despite not two minutes before stating that she's an energy creature whose body constitutes both the ship's power grid and data storage."
"So… she's either lying or has some kind of brain damage. That's encouraging."
"Tell me about it… what is the status of the
Lost Cause?"
"It's… intact.
Childhood's End sent her Agents over to slaughter the borders, but neither of them were gentle. Repairs will be necessary if we want to use her again, but… permission to speak plainly?"
"Granted."
"It might be better to just feed her to
Childhood's End."
Absolutely none of you respond to that. Your knee-jerk gut reaction is to shout 'no'; the
Lost Cause has served your family faithfully for nearly a thousand of the Empire's five thousand years of existence. And that loyalty demanded loyalty from you, inanimate object or not.
There was also the fact it was your only potential escape route if
Childhood's End proved to be homicidally crazy, but that thought is crushed unforgivingly beneath the gaping hole that she had just been filling. Still, it was a legitimate offer. The
Lost Cause out-massed either of the two modern cruisers that your new God Vessel had eaten by a minimum of 25%, if not more, which represented no small amount of free resources to help repair your new vessel and bring her closer to her true fighting shape…
"That… is a good point." Be practical and dismantle your faithful ship? Or repair it and... potentially give
Childhood's End her first escort. The former might mean one more new gun, but the latter would mean potentially locking out fully repairing one of her stronger options. "How is KL?" You need the short distraction.
"She's in the medical bay with the other wounded. The Agent I spoke to says it might be possible to resuscitate her, but without access to the Librarium Vault, mutations are likely before she's stabilized."
"Understood." So… that makes several decisions you need to make. Actually, there's one more question that needs to be asked. You glare down at your Communications Officer, "Anyone want to tell me what you're doing here and not in the void?"
He blanches even as AD-331 sighs before waving at you, "Tell her what you told me."
Nodding, he grunts out through his nervousness; "I have family back on Greggor-Seventeen, they went into debt in order to get me into the Fleet Academy… one of Lord Mustafa's agents promised that he would waive their debt to him if I just sent updates on the progress of the mission. It… looked innocent enough at the time and I didn't think there would be a reason for AD-331's Father to want to do anything to the ship he was serving on so I accepted. We know how that resulted though."
You can feel the truth to his words—psionics are useful like that, especially since yours are strong enough to still feel even through the collective damping field projected by your bridge crew—so you don't immediately fry him with your mind. Being tricked into betraying your ship for the safety of your family was fucked, but understandable. "I'll see about sending word to my Father to see if he can send some kind of help for them." He was a damned good communications officer and replacing him would be hard if not impossible. Especially since you're now in command of—your hand spasms—of an ancient Builder warship of unfathomable power. "You're to be watched until I can be certain you won't do another stupid thing like this." He nods, but doesn't say anything. Simply accepting your judgement.
Never a dull moment, is there?
__________________________________________________
[] [Lost Cause] Repair and upgrade your old ship. (-300 Resources)
[] [Lost Cause] Feed your old ship to your new one. (+550 Resources)
[] [KL-0909090909] Resuscitate KL
[] [KL-0909090909] Wait Until You're Sure You can Help Her
[] [KL-0909090909] Space Her
__________________________________________________
Resources And How To Spend Them
- Collected Resources are displayed on Childhood's information page.
- Whenever you get into a battle Childhood will automatically scour the battlefield for usable materials she can use to repair her damaged systems. The amount of resources she collects is based on the size and type of vessels fought, and the damage involved. Other ways to collect resources are through mining of resources or through events such as receiving supplies from the Empire.
- During any voting phase, you may vote to [Ex] [Repair Childhood] -system you want to repair-. You may specify how many resources you want to put towards a subsystem's repair, otherwise it well spend until either the system completes a repair level or Childhood runs out of available resources.
