The truth of the Gysians' restoration was a simple one, when all's said and done. The fleets sent to end their race faltered at the last step, recognising the horror that they were about to commit less than a day before it would've been too late to undo. A day may sound like plentiful time, but it didn't feel like that to those aboard the few, bleeding orbitals that remained habitable following the Shiplords' celestial bombardment. The details of their salvation were far more complex.
"None of us could believe it at first," Entara explained, having led you to a viewing deck deeper within the orbital's hull, this one far more intact. It was spartanly appointed, the walls lined with projection ports and carpeted in an odd green-grey. Feedback from your Masque implied comfort, but nothing decadent. A projection had been formed at the centre of the chamber, the same one you'd disrupted, only accelerated a few hours. The Shiplord formation had shredded, groups of ancient War Fleet craft escorting the vulnerable shipyard complexes towards the remaining orbitals. Two signal patterns warred across that fleet, visible to Gysian sensors, and recordings entrusted to the Sorrow at its creation filled in the detail.
From the ships that remained at the edge of the system came demands of duty, almost desperate in their tone. Calls to remember what this race had done, what they'd risked, what must be done to protect creation. But they were terribly outnumbered by those inside the Stellar Exclusion Zone, who tore into those arguments with a passion that was hard to ascribe to the species you'd rarely seen more than coldness or sorrow from. They spoke of monsters, and the becoming of such, and how this was far enough. They had breached the line of sanity already in their butchery of the system's worlds, and you could feel the tears in their voices without any translations. But not all of those tears were sad. Some were hot, angry, and utterly ruthless as they demanded better of their comrades.
"We thought it was some sort of cruel ruse, a play that we might believe and surrender to without fighting." As you watched, fire flickered out from the remains of emplacements around the orbital closest to the SEZ's terminator, licking at shields that were far more capable than the ones War Fleet craft used today. That group withdrew out of effective range, but no further. A few moments later, the shipyard complex spat several dozen slow-moving cargo pods out towards the orbital at the same time as a transmission, pleading for those aboard to accept the supplies aboard.
"Some of those there on that day would tell you it was one even now," Entara added, "if they would ever deign to remove themselves from storage. I admit, I almost wish they would some days." The Gysian made an abrupt gesture of negation, like a headshake but with the light and shadow around them, twisting it into new forms. "But some of our orbitals didn't have much choice. Last Cry was one of them. Either we accepted aid, or our systems would fail. A few refused even then, choosing death over whatever they thought the Shiplords had in store for us. But here it played out differently."
"Why?" You asked. "Why did they let you live?"
Entara took a breath, their eyes flickering back to the projection. "It was a moment of clarity for many of them. A realisation of all they'd believed and betrayed. But it would be better to listen to their own reasons, I think." A swift, grasping gesture and a new recording overruled the others currently playing.
"...and it is enough, I tell you!" The voice felt oddly familiar, the nanomaterial shell around the Shiplord burning with energy and radiating an almost violent passion. "We have fought and we have died and we have killed for the Authority, to save all reality from weapons that would have ended everything. But that is done now, and it must be allowed to be done. That it comes from the begging of children is shameful, but we must recognise our duty.
"Preservation, my fellows. Not destruction." The voice hardened, the weight behind it chilling you even separated by millions of years of time. "And never genocide. Not for this sin."
The recording cut off, leaving a silence that only deepened as you considered what you'd just heard.
"Who was that?" You asked at last.
"The one who gave you the codes you bear, who we call the Sorrowful," Entara replied. "She was a squadron commander then, utterly unprepared for the weight that her actions here would set upon her shoulders. She wasn't alone in speaking out like this; you can see that from the display." Indeed you could. Of the Shiplord War Fleet, almost eighty percent of it had abandoned their tactical formations.
"But her words struck in a way none of the others did. They turned horror into resolution, and scattered revolt into a movement that still holds power today," they swept one hand out, circling their odd fingers in a gesture that encompassed the entire station. "They're why this place exists. And why I'm standing here, able to speak about the shared past we lost together. And the future my people hope for."
"And what future is that?" you asked. Your Masque shifted around you, cycling between curiosity, concern and more passionate expressions of the same.
"It's simple," Entara replied. "We want peace. Just like you."
For a moment you didn't breathe.
"The Sorrowful wouldn't have given her codes to anyone who didn't believe as we do. I've seen how you've reacted to the truths here, the questions you've asked, and the real ones behind them," Entara continued, seemingly oblivious of your sudden tension. The tactical link that had sprung to life in an instant quieted, though the strategies within remained. It was a little disturbing how good you'd become at producing those.
"And what do you see in us, then?" Vega asked. Her Masque had shifted to a posture of polite curiosity for Entara's sake, but you could feel the intense focus and Focus that she had prepared for the answer.
Entara considered the question, anticipatory lights kindling and shifting around them, the flickering tones a language all of its own. Here shades of curiosity, there ones of worry, apprehension, glimpses of possibility. And through them all, flickers of that most terrible thing you could imagine for such an ancient being.
Hope.
"I'm not sure yet," they told you. "Your perspective is different, fresh in a way I have not seen in centuries. But that would not be a reason for Kicha to give you her own identifier codes. She's never done that. Which means you did something much more significant than look at things in a different way." Stutter-lights fluttered, a Gysian nod. "You did something at the Third Sorrow."
There was a moment, time enough to take a breath, to begin an answer but Entara ploughed through the attempt. "What was it?"
And there it was. The question that you'd avoided and deflected from at the First Sorrow when asked by its Warden. Rinel had seemed sincere, but he'd still been a Shiplord, and trust was a difficult thing to build with only one true conversation after billions dead and decades of silence. Which led to the question - was Entara a Shiplord? Their people were certainly culturally distinct, having held onto something clearly their own despite integration into a population so many times their own size. But it wasn't just that. Entara's people hadn't been driven into hiding by the very nature of their existence, forced to live in a constant state of suspicion or paranoia. They bore scars, that much was certainly true, but they were ancient on the same scale as Kicha's own. And there was something else, a sense of quiet power that shone through them. Not a strength of will, not a presence of authority. No, this was something more fundamental.
It wasn't Practice; you would have sensed that sort of power immediately. But there was a bone-deep certainty that came from living for such a long time. A conviction that had survived millions of cycles, and that didn't seem to understand the meaning of surrender. Was it the same thing that had driven their people to their near-fatal rebellion? Or was it something else entirely?
"You don't know," Entara told you, voice soft and gentle. "But I can tell you that if you want peace, then you have the chance to make it happen."
"You can't say that." Your voice broke under the surge of emotions pouring between your Heartcircle as you spoke, and you looked your guide right in their odd, glowing eyes. "You can't say that to me. Not after everything," you broke off sharply, shuddering as that torrent thundered into you.
You could feel Kalilah's fury, the searing, fusion-bright pain that made it real. You could feel Mir's hope, the implacable power of the man's Focus resonating with words of promised Peace that this reaction made unquestionable. Elil's curiosity, Lea's concern, and from Vega...oh, from Vega. She did what she always did, finding the harmony between all of you. That same treacherous, fragile hope that had started after Kicha and that now saw itself reflected in the Gysian in front of you.
"I can," Entara replied, unflinching. "Because I've seen it happen before."
You squeezed your eyes closed, as if that could shut out the voice. And yet at the same time, unable to stop yourself, you reached out.
:Iris, how secure is this room?: You sent, and the riot of feelings ground suddenly to nothing.
:You can't-: :How can we-: :There's too muc-: It all blended together, but you were only listening for one voice.
:The only audio-visual was outside, and this place has privacy screens.: Your daughter told you. She was worried, but not about her answer. About what your question meant. :Any specific location seems limited to medical scans only. And we're already spoofing those with the Masques, which is good considering how crazy you're driving each other's biochemistry right now.:
:Can we do this?: You asked. There was absolutely no need to elaborate on what 'this' was.
:Can, yes.: Iris confirmed. :Should, we'll have to see. But I think.... I think it's better than doing nothing. Much better.:
You reached out across the connections deeper than thought to your Heartcircle, recovering painfully slowly from the shock. But none of them disagreed, not even Kalilah. Entara and their people had survived, and as much as you hated to admit it, they'd spoken truly just now. They had seen it happen before. And you had...you had to know.
"You did," you said haltingly. It cost you to even admit that. "But what happened afterwards?"
"What about," Entara began, only to halt as your Masque twisted into a harsh negation.
"Please," you said, all but begging. "We need to know, before...anything else. What is the shape of your people today, compared to what was?"
More light flickered, in it motions of confusion and concern for you, but also an acceptance you'd not expected. Then, the same flicker-light nod.
"Very well." Entara raised their hands, sweeping them out and the system holo shifted again. It was still an ancient recording, but the orbitals had been tended to now - all but one that had gone cold and dark.
"When the recordings from the Hearthguard reached the Shiplord Authority, the response was a mess of stellar proportions," they continued. "Some wanted us wiped out regardless, but most saw the truth that the early leaders in this system had reacted to so violently. The Gysians who'd tried to annihilate reality were all dead, and the remaining production capacity of our orbitals would've taken years to produce one of our devices, assuming they could access the required feedstocks, which they couldn't. Of those orbitals that remained, one had already died after refusing any and all aid. But all the others eventually accepted the possibility, however slight, that our would-be killers might have had a change of heart. None of us really believed it then, but when the only other option is extinction, it's hard to argue.
"I'm not going to tell you that we're who we were before the war. We aren't, but that's not entirely a bad thing. I was only a child of that world, but I've read enough about it to recognise what drove us to try and weaponize a universe-ender, and it wasn't anything complicated. It was xenophobia, a belief that only our kind were truly people. Fortunately or unfortunately depending on your point of view, it was subtle with us. I think Shiplords would've taught us differently if they'd recognised it, but I'm not sure we'd have been willing to learn even then."
"What do you mean?" asked Mary.
"I mean that the reason our race was almost destroyed was because, from our perspective, the Shiplords proved themselves liars." You very carefully stopped yourself from asking if that was some sort of joke, letting your guide continue with their explanation. "They said they were teachers, but refused to teach us everything. So my predecessors went looking, and when the Shiplords tried to get them to stop, would've ended everything just so they could be right. I don't think any of them knew; they were xenophobic, not nihilistic. But they still did it. And that subtle way of looking at the world was something that the Shiplords knew they had to address."
"Address how?" Vega's voice was steady, but only just. Hardly surprising, given the topic.
"I think it was the first time they'd ever had to confront the fact that there was no way to 'win' a war with us," Entara said. "Not without becoming the monsters that they stopped just short of becoming, and destroying a vibrant, living piece of the universe that they loved so completely. So they had to choose. Life for our people, but people of a different kind from those who'd come before. We'd always have changed; near-extinction isn't something a race recovers from free of scars. The Shiplords just chose the scars we'd remember. They took us into your civilisation, and offered us a place beside them. Fair representation, support, and security. Everything we'd need to rebuild, and a solemn guarantee that we'd never be threatened with extinction again.
"And it worked. Our planets were rebuilt, our people restored, but it wasn't the same. The Shiplords of the time helped us be better than our ancestors, and they succeeded. But at the same time, they destroyed us." Entara paused, and light leached from the air, casting a pained smile across the comfortable room. And a terrible horror gripped you. "I am Gysian. I am a member of Shiplord civilisation. I am a Warden of the Hearthguard, those who remember, and I was there on the day that this place exists to recall. And that means I can recognise the truth easier than most.
"I am Gysian, yes. But I'm not Gysian as my mother and father were. As my grandsires and greatmothers, or beyond. We live, we are free, but we were never given the opportunity to reclaim what we'd been. The Shiplords of the time considered it too dangerous, and so that was the price of our survival. Don't think poorly of them for this. It was never demanded, but your people never tried to hide it, either. It simply was. And they gave everything they promised. All we had to give up was the part of our psyche that made us threaten everything."
"And that," Entara swept their hand through the system holo a final time, returning it to a modern viewpoint. "Is the truth."
"And do you think," you struggled with the words, "that is the shape of any peace the Shiplords could make?"
"No," they replied without hesitation. "No one they fight today is such a threat. No matter how some parts of the Authority feel. They're wrong."
"And you're sure of that?"
Entara gave you another flicker-light nod. "I am."
"Then let me tell you what we did at the Third. " You grimaced. There was no easy way to give this truth.
:Just be true.: Vega told you. :That's all they're wanting.:
:And I'll just be here, ready to commit murder,: Kalilah growled. The older woman's fury hadn't faded in the least, but it wasn't directed at the ancient Warden in front of you anymore. That was something, but it made the statement she'd made even harder for her. :Make it count, Amanda.:
:I will.:
"We found a way out of the trap of the Sphere," you said. Subtle, subtle light blossomed around Entara's body: energy, wonder and strengthening hope. "One that actually worked, and that had never even been touched before. But doing so cost us something."
:Sidra?: You asked.
:You really are a fan of the grand gesture.: Your Unison replied in the feeling of an amused headshake. :But then, I suppose so am I. You're sure?:
"What?" Your host asked hastily, the light around them spiralling like a mad prism. "If there was a solution, a real one, I'm sure any cost could be easily-"
:I have to be.: You raised your voice in reality. "It revealed us." Whatever Entara had expected, it hadn't been that and the Gysian's speech screeched to a stuttering halt. You kept talking.
"My name is Amanda Hawke. I was born forty-six cycles ago, on a planet my people call Earth. The solution we found at the Third Sorrow drew upon the gift that has allowed my species to rise to challenge the Shiplords in less than fifty cycles since our first contact with them. That gift is how we're here. It's why Kicha gave us codes, and more than that. I've seen the First, Third and Fifth Sorrows, and though I recognise their purpose, none of them have given me an answer."
:Now.: Kicha retracted your Masque, and you looked out with your eyes, brilliant blue meeting the flickering colour of Entara's own, a nimbus of light and power surrounding the ancient Gysian.
"Can you give me one?"
