:Elil, start looking,: you ordered, and the Insight Focused bent immediately to the task as you turned to your daughter. :Iris, do you think you can help?:
She looked over at you, and something between a smile and a sob passed down the link between you. :I can, just…a moment, please?:
You reached out, settling a manipulator on the 'shoulder' of her Masque, the closest measure of affection to a hug that you felt you could make. :I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to push.:
:I know,: her voice was very small, strengthening like a fitful wind. :And I'll want a hug when we're safely unmonitored.:
:Of course,: you said. What mother could have refused that request?
:But there was more to that display than just the audio-visual,: Iris continued, though not without a surge of gratitude for your reply. :I don't think Sidra or the other UI's saw all of it, but I couldn't not. Everything they did here, all the messages sent, the promises offered.: The small glyph representing a headshake flickered down the link.
:Failing here, in the way they see it as failure, hurt the parts of Shiplord society that built this place. And they weren't a small subset of their society; they can't have been. If they had, all that would have happened would have been destruction. There'd be no memorial.:
:And I wonder,: the words fell away into a breath. :They asked us to seek another way, after saying they'd tried them all. We know that they see the Tribute fleets as almost a sacred duty, but nothing Insight ever found suggested that it was truly religious. This place isn't exactly a place of worship, not in any way that we might define it, but it fits the definition of holy.:
:I can't gainsay that,: you admitted. Despite how the culture you'd grown to adulthood within was anything but what the pre-Sorrows society would term religious, or perhaps because of it, the terms of faith and religion had remained largely unchanged. :But I'm not sure I can see the star you're trying to point out here.:
:Look at this place, mom,: Iris said gently. :I know what you can do, at least most of it. Look at the life they've rebuilt here, the recreation of a world dead longer than humanity has known sapience.:
:What am I looking for?: You asked, yet even as you did you found the answer.
:To see if it's true.: your daughter sighed, moving away towards the central panel, her form shifting as she went. :I'll see what I can find inside the database. But I think your answer will be worth more.:
You let her go. She'd said her piece, and you trusted her like few others. If she said it was a good investment of your time, you believed it would be. Even if it was still a little odd to be on the other end of this conversation with your daughter. One of the joys of parenthood, you supposed.
:Before you do that, Mandy,: Vega's voice slid into your thoughts. :Mir and I are going to head back down, to see what they remember. There are two sides to this place, and no matter how real this one looks, we need to see what's down there, too. How they treat it will be just as important.:
It was probably more so, but you just couldn't face it. Not when you had others you needed to look to. Iris was stable for now, but it was a tenuous thing, held together by a flimsy weave of distraction. And then there was Kalilah, her presence a thing of boiling emotion, held in check only by a will that had endured the worst loss you could ever imagine. A loss mirrored in this place, and yet…
:Don't go there, Amanda,: her voice sounded in your mind, and you felt the edge beneath the quiet words. :I know who you are, what you've been. But please, don't.:
You sent the Unisonbound equivalent of a step taken back and received a very sad smile in return. :I know why we're here,: she continued, in that same fatal tone. :I know I can't simply level this place, like I wish I could right now.: Not that it was a matter of her incapability. Kalilah remained, with only one possible exception, the most singularly lethal human in your race's history. :But it doesn't stop me wanting to. For everyone we lost, and all the countless trillions more.:
:I'd like to say I understand, but we both know I can only come so close,: you said haltingly, and a sound too harsh to be laughter filled your ears.
:They've been around for millions of years, Mandy,: she snapped out bitterly. :Even if we take them at their word, even if we accept that this is true, how many races must have died at their hands? A thousand? Ten thousand? A million? What was so special,: her voice cracked, and you reached out instinctively, grounding out the destructive power literally radiating from within the First Awoken's Masque.
:What was so special, that they were judged worthy? Their capacity for destruction? No, no, that can't be it. If that was the case, they'd have tried to talk to us after I burned away a third of their last attack fleet. Why was this,: she whirled, gesturing viciously towards the room's window, :worth remembering, Mandy? Why did they even care?:
:I don't know, Kalilah,: you replied, tightly restraining the urge to offer comfort. You knew Kalilah well enough to know that would be the opposite of help. Despite how she'd changed, you could tell that much. :I don't know if any answer could ever be enough.:
:My daughter would have called me selfish, I think,: this time her voice did break, and your breath froze in your throat. Kalilah had lost her entire family in the Week of Sorrows, you knew that. But she'd never spoken more on it, and you'd never asked. It had always been clear that any company in that pain wasn't welcome. Which meant that when you reached out now, you did so very carefully, in a wordless motion of curiosity.
:She came of age in the days when there were only the possibilities that the First Secret opened, and dedicated her life to them.: The words carried with them heartbreak too deep to be called sadness. :Which is why she was an officer on one of the Cartographer ships out beyond Sol when the Shiplords found us.:
That explained so much, as you twisted your hands together and struggled to find the words to reply.
:You... you were close, weren't you?: You managed it at last, watching the harsh expression your voice brought to her features. Such a stupid question, why had you asked it?
:She was my daughter, Mandy.:
I'm sorry. Those two words stuck in your throat as you watched her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath.
:I miss her.:
The words seemed to surprise you both, as she spun on her heels to pace the length of the room. :I miss hearing her laugh, seeing her smile. I miss the joy of listening to her speak about things I thought I had endless time to learn, and so neglected then. And I wish,: the flow of words sliced away, into a silence as utter as it was oppressive. You couldn't truly understand, you'd never lost a child, or even the whole of your family. But you could come close.
:I wish I could tell her that I'm sorry. That I should have been a better parent, that... that if she could just see me now, then maybe she would…: The sentence wasn't finished, and you knew you couldn't do it for her.
:This is everything she ever wished for,: she sent at last. :To find new worlds, old worlds, places where life had touched and still did. And we're standing here on one, further than any living human has ever been from home and I-: She broke off.
The Masque didn't let Kalilah display any physical tells of the desolation you could feel pouring from her. No, desolation was too weak a word. If it had, then you imagine she would be shaking with the effort of remaining outwardly calm.
:I won't find her here.: It was the closest you'd ever heard her to tears. :I won't see her again, no matter how far we go.:
Then she shook herself, and you felt the veil of years and loss slip away, yet it felt somehow lessened. :I'm sorry, Amanda. It's been, it's been a long time.:
:It's fine,: you told her smoothly. The feeling of a face smiling gently at you told you that she knew that wasn't quite true, but she let it slide.
:At least it's a nice view.: There wasn't much you could say to that. Except the truth.
:It's a real one,: you said. :What we can see around us is what this world used to be. Everything below, it's off, wrong. But here?: You made a sweeping gesture at the alien glade. :Here is true.:
:I suppose it is.: She sounded calmer now, and you felt a wash of relief. :If anyone would know, you would, Mandy. I just have to wonder, was anything that Shiplord said the same?:
:Honestly?: You didn't want for her to answer. :I'm not sure. I can only tell you what I feel. If you look for firmer answers,: you nodded towards where Iris and Elil were clustered around the holoprojector. :Look to them, Kalilah.:
:I will.:
The silence that fell afterwards was almost pleasant, like a velvet curtain drawn over the world, and it lasted a long time. Iris called you over eventually, seeking your advice on something that she didn't need help with, but had decided she wanted you there for. That was a good feeling.
You needed it, as the reality of this place slowly laid itself out before you. Iris and Elil delved deep into the tower's files, your daughter searching for any hidden storage, any areas that might contradict the initial presentation you'd watched. And Elil read and watched it all, his Unison Platform accelerating his perceptions to the point that they could keep up with Iris, if only barely.
The truth was a difficult one, especially when it would be so easy to wish for it all to be lies. Yet the further you dove, the closer you looked, the more and more it became clear that there was no lie. Not unless the entire place was one. Which left you at an impasse, both personally and as a leader. Vega and Mir would return to the shuttle once they were done, and the plan was to join them. But what would you do afterwards?
Vega could read the intent of a place far better than you could. You were better at the precise things, but she had a way of taking in the entire picture that you'd never seen matched. If she told you that the Shiplords who congregated below were true in their belief to the purpose that Kymri had described, you would not be able to dispute it. And the more you looked, the more you believed she would bring back just that message.
Yet if she did, did you have it within yourself to return to experience the same? You didn't know, and recognising that truth worried you. You'd accepted this mission with the premise that it might be possible to reason the Shiplords to a settlement. This place gave an example of them offering peace, at almost any cost. But only on their terms. You weren't sure that humanity could ever accept that. Terms from the Shiplords. You weren't sure you could, either.
It wasn't that you opposed peace. You wished for a peaceful universe, for a galaxy full of races that worked together for the benefit of all sentience. Where any and all were accepted, so long as they did not seek to bring harm upon the rest. A utopia, glorious and unrelenting. Humanity had found that within itself, and at a far younger age than the Shiplords. Yet you could still see the traces of some similar, ancient optimism in Kymri's recording.
What had changed?
You weren't sure. And you couldn't just ask someone here. No Shiplord would fail to recognise that as the question of an outsider, not after the second or third misstep that you would inevitably make. Practice gave you great power, but it granted at most limited clairvoyance, not omniscience. Yet one thing in the files, and the recording, drew your attention more than any other. Kymri had mentioned it, and further files and recordings that spoke for and against the actions of the Shiplords at this star did so too in places. The War of the Hjivin Sphere was not mentioned casually, but whenever the event's title did surface, it came with a weight that felt all too close to that of how your people spoke the Week of Sorrows. And with the right attention to detail, Elil had been able to roughly narrow down where the war had taken place.
There was only one hidden star system within that entire galactic quadrant.
You would be lying to yourself if you said that you didn't want to know more. But this wasn't just the whim of an inquisitive mind. There was... something else at work here. A calling, of a sort. One that you felt you must answer. That was an odd feeling. Your understanding of the universe had always led you down a path of understanding paired to insight, but this felt different. This felt like the universe was trying to guide you down a path to some greater understanding. Maybe that path would lead somewhere. Maybe it wouldn't.
But it was there.
What path does Amanda choose?
[] Return to the surface
-[] To see the remembrance of the Shiplords for herself.
-[] To uncover what secrets might hide within deep within the world.
[] Continue on
-[] to understand the War of the Hjivin Sphere. (Original option: The star of this system is notably smaller and dimmer than it should be, yet appears to still be stable.)
-[] to a red giant surrounded by a graveyard of shattered worlds.
-[] to the yellow sun, somehow twisted off its axis by some monumental stellar event. Three major planetary bodies remain.
