The Secrets' Crusade

[Snowfire]

Your name is Amanda Hawk, and you have been many things.

You are a child of a world broken seventy-five years ago by a brutal attack that brought humanity to its knees. Discovery of two Secrets had broken Einstein's cage and granted humanity what were believed to be perfect protectors. The Week of Sorrows proved that wrong. The Shiplords tore down that world, and left only after three quarters of humanity was dead or taken. In their wake were left only shattered orbitals, a burning Mars, and the extinction of a race that had only wished to protect you.

The Dragons gave their lives, together with those who flew them, so that your race might survive. And somewhere in all that blood, they succeeded in leaving something behind. A gift, far greater than any Secret, that came to a handful of a broken humanity less than a year after it had fallen. Those which remained called it Practice, its wielders Potentials. And it was the vehicle of humanity's redemption.

You became a Potential as all others since the First Awoken have, as a teenager, Awakening to a Focus that suited you well: Mending. With it, you took the foundation that your predecessors had laid in humanity, and strove to turn all the hopes they'd left you into reality. A process only interrupted by the discovery that the Shiplords would not simply leave you to recover. Ten years, Insight told you, until they returned.

You became a leader, then, of a people that already loved you but had never been yours. The Circles you'd crafted, artefacts woven into the fabric of human society, won you the Presidency with ease. And you led your species into the teeth of a storm that would seek to devour you. It has been twenty-five years since then. And the storm which sought to break you has itself been shattered by the artefacts of your people's creation. Yet you would not remain a leader through it all, for no one is immune to the corruption of power.

You were an explorer, in your youth, restoring the world lost to the Sorrows. You became that again after the Second Battle of Sol was won. You sought out the mysteries that humanity had only begun to uncover before the Shiplords returned, and searched for them in the hopes of finding weapons that could protect your world from those who held the galaxy in thrall.

Yet the actions of humanity were not unnoticed by that galaxy, and some few races who found the truth travelled to meet with you. You became an envoy then, not a diplomat, but an icon of humanity's strength in compassion. You gave them hope, and truth, that those who had so long dominated the stars were not invincible.

Your daughter found adulthood in the years before the Shiplords came upon you again, having chosen to limit her nature as an infomorph and become more human. When your enemies arrived a third time, she was there to stand against them, just as you were. That battle ended very differently to the one which had preceded it. Practice carried the day, but it did not allow so total a victory.

The Shiplords knew you now, knew the strength you had found. A power which they had learnt to fight and, if one reaction was true, to hate. Yet even with all of that, they had still lost. And soon, that truth would ignite a firestorm of revolution across the galaxy. The Shiplords could defeat any one, or two, or even three races that stood against them. But if enough chose to rise in defiance, knowing what they truly faced…then victory was possible.

The cost might be horrific, when all was accounted for. But between freedom and death, there are few choices.

Now, you stood in a place that you thought was a dream, a grand vista of the endlessness of space woven into a gallery of starlight. You glimpsed it once before, during the last battle, still less than a day old. Your body, you knew, was at home, sleeping beside your closest friend. Yet you were here, too, in mind and soul. Practice is of the latter, and it answers your call here without hesitation.

There is a figure there with you, standing before the vista of stars in a cloak of dark crimson. They are not human, you know that now. They are something much older, born of a choice to escape the sad reality that was all they could see of the galaxy under the Shiplords. How old, you cannot know: the gestalt they'd given you, an understanding passed in a single look, had carried no usable reference points. You knew of their kind, how they have risen over thousands of millennia, yet never once challenged those who oppressed them in the physical world.

Some of that, you understand now. The Third Battle of Sol revealed that the Shiplords possess weapons which can strike against power born of the soul. But you know what Practice is capable of, and that humanity's power is only a fraction of what the Dragons sought to grant you. That fraction has unleashed the energy of a star upon your foes, more than once. And it has restrained that searing strength as well, so as to leave the planets of Sol unscorched.

All this you know, yet the words this being has spoken to you now have left you reeling. You demanded to know what it was, and its answer is proof beyond contestation. Then the figure bowed its head, almost human in the motion, and apologised.

"We are sorry for this intrusion." It said, and you believed it. "But we need to talk. Of you, and how this war might end."

This war to come, that you had seen no choice but to lead humanity towards. That, if the best projections were right, could only end with no less than a third of the galaxy ablaze or in ruins. These beings that had allowed all the atrocities of the Shiplords to pass now spoke of ending it? How could they do that, when they had done nothing before?

Yet surely, the more rational part of you argued, if they are contacting you now there must be a reason. Something that humanity offers, perhaps. You could let yourself believe in the possibility; that is not hard. But believe it in truth…that was the mistake humanity made before the Sorrows. And in this, there is no knowledge from Project Insight to guide you. None have ever conversed with an Uninvolved.

A time for firsts, this is, then. A rebellion, that might even win. A power unseen in eons, yet somehow known to your enemy. And those beings who might be older than it all, taking seeming notice of you only now that you were committed. And yet...their gestalt, that had been true. They had suffered, without a gift like Practice to defend them, and nothing in their past would support the Shiplords.

You had extended words to the greatest enemy humanity had ever known when granted with the opportunity to speak, when you could have hurled destruction. To do less for this creature was not in you.

What say you?
[] Who are you?
[] Why are you here?
[] Why have you waited so long?
[] Why should we listen to you?
[] Write-in

Spoiler: Vote Clarity

The vote here dictates the initial direction of conversation taken with this being, and the tone that Amanda sets in her interaction with it. For this reason, write-ins are encouraged. This conversation will take only a few updates.

 

[Snowfire]

In another time, you'd faced a creation that had been the vaguest echo of this one in conversation. It had been a doorway, the lock and key both, and your answer to it had been born from the same place as the one you reached for now. Practice could create things that were entirely simple, and others that were glorious, but it wasn't limited to just that. In the third year of your Presidency, a Shiplord assassination system had almost killed you. You had survived through a manipulation of Practice that you'd never been certain existed. When faced with a machine seeking to kill you, you'd stared up into the face of its weapons and told it to stop. And it had obeyed.

You had used that power many times since, in ways primal and beautiful. But what many might call your greatest examples of it were the purifying flame that had broken the Tribute Fleet fifteen years ago, or the single Word which had torn a world back from ash and dust, those paled in comparison to a one Spoken years before. That moment facing the gatekeeper of your predecessors. Those of the First Awakening who had guided humanity towards a future that held more than war. You answer had been a Word to describe your very self. The answer given to you by your visitor had been like that, just without the words.

If one sought to speak, to truly converse, with one from another place, there was only one way to do it: speak in their language. You wished for a moment that Sidra were here; what you'd received was their field, not yours. But you still couldn't feel the presence of the calm intelligence of the Unison Platform that had bound themselves to you. Which only added another question to your list, and left you having to compile it alone. Who they were seemed obvious, yet there was nothing there that Phoebe could use to trace back with Project Insight, when you woke up. That required resolution.

And there were all the other questions beyond that. So many variations of why, each of them so necessary. Why now, why humanity, why should you even listen. Fortunately, this you did know how to do. Picking multiple meanings instead of one complicated matters, but the basic process was the same. Find the meaning you needed in a word, invest it with Practice, and then add it to more strands of the same. Vega would have been better at this, but you understood at least some of what Harmonials could do. Learning how to Speak without limits had taught you that.

Through the entire process, the being that had, you assumed, somehow brought you here waited. Its eyes burned the same gentle blue as the plane of light you were standing on. Deliberate, or something more profound? Maybe you could ask that later? For now, there were more important things.

This was when you discovered that one could not easily Speak a gestalt. The weave of interlaced meanings was too dense. It made sense, in retrospect. You'd often stretched the boundaries of single Words in practice sessions, applying only one meaning. Imbuing a word with so many just wasn't possible. Language had its limits. This was one of them. Yet, you knew that words were not used by Sidra and the other Unison Intelligences, or even your daughter Iris. They could do it. Why not you?

Because you're not connected that way, Amanda, you told yourself, and stopped suddenly. Why couldn't you be connected that way? You'd been able to forge a link with a member of another species, during Second Contact. Why couldn't you do that here? Yes, it had been something they'd offered you, but the principles…weren't they the same? And if this being had given you information, then surely there would be a link already present. There was only one way to find out.

Don't Speak, Feel: 96 + 36 = 132. Solid Success.

You reached out with your soul, with the power that had been given, scouring the world around you for the pathway that had been used. You almost missed the shift in the figure as you did so, which the gestalt helpfully interpreted as surprise. They hadn't expected this, even after seeing what you could do? No, that was assuming that they'd always been watching, and you couldn't know that. If all they'd seen was the battle just past, they'd just know what they'd seen there. Power in plenty, but little finesse beyond the control required to safely wield such energies.

You found the link a moment later. It was fading quickly, but you were a Mender. Putting things back together was what you did. Power surged out of your soul, through the lens of your Focus, and the connection reformed swiftly. Then you took what you'd built, the invisible collection of precise meanings and questions, and breathed them out into the renewed link. The being opposite you stilled, its cloak freezing in the air around it. It tilted its head, another remarkably human motion. For a single, mad moment you hoped that you'd not somehow confused it.

"Your mastery is impressive," it remarked, bowing its head in a motion of solemn acknowledgement. "And were we you, we would not have fewer questions." It reached up and pulled back the hood, revealing a face that was at once close to human, and yet not at all. There was the impression of bright scales across a narrow and curious face, and then the human image it had created reasserted itself.

"We are all that remains of a species known once as the Tahkel," the figure continued. "If you wish to give us a name, that will suffice." You nodded once, thankful. Project Insight would be able to follow that name, if it truly existed.

"As for why we have made contact now, and not before," the entity's eyes flared bright, but no burst of knowledge followed this time. "We have watched your race for little more than ten of your years, and until now, others would have prevented us. Even observation was seen by some of them as too much. But now, with what you've done, there can be no denying it."

"Your race," the many voices continued, still speaking as one, "represents now the greatest chance that this galaxy has ever seen to change, and that is not simply due to what you have done. There have been alliances before, races brought together in defiance. Each and all fell in the end, yet you possess something that they did not."

"Practice?" It was hardly a question, what else could it have been? And yet, Tahkel's nod was not as deep as you'd expected.

"Not just that," they said. "No race before yours has possessed Practice, not in all the memories of the Uninvolved." Something about that statement felt odd, and a moment later you understood why, the knowledge fluttering into your mind. The Uninvolved as they were now did not include all those races that had chosen to bid the physical world goodbye. The oldest of their society was little more than a million years old, and they did not remember the beginnings of the Shiplords' tyranny. Only a different sort.

"But it is what you have done with that gift, Amanda Hawk, once again. Not in the power that you have learnt to wield in battle, but in the society you have made, and the more subtle tools you have created." A ghost of something you would have called a smile flickered across their face. "The reason that all others have lost to the Shiplords is not because they possessed less strength than the alliance you have helped create. It is because they did not understand their enemy. Incomplete your knowledge certainly is, but it is more than any have had before."

"You understand the nature of the War Fleets and the hidden infiltration of societies that, between them, have inevitably turned the path of revolution to the Shiplords' favour," flashes of wars flickered across your eyes, each one grand and terrible, memories of failures of the past. "You have created a weapon to fight the latter and, even now, search for a way to blunt the former. Without the knowledge gleaned by your Insight, you would fall just like all the rest."

"And the other reason?" You asked carefully. It…made an awful sort of sense, but just because they thought you might be a winning horse couldn't be a reason to contact you now. The Uninvolved sighed, conveying in that simple sound an eternity of sorrow.

"Before you, there was no race that we believed we could speak to without alerting the Shiplords to our actions. It's…a measure of the soul. Beings like us can exist here, where the Shiplords cannot see us. But if we take action in what you know to be reality, they see it. Your souls, though; they are strong enough to exist here. What you did today proved that beyond any doubt."

That was too much to leave without a question, you had to know. "They see you," you asked. "No matter where you act?"

"There is a web they have built across the stars," Tahkel explained, and there was pain on their face as they did so. "If we act in your reality, it is disrupted. For so long they have known when we act, the weapons you now know they created ever threatening."

"You must understand: if we die, everything that we are dies with us. All we remember, all that our race was. Gone. To many of our kind, protecting that which lies beyond easy reach of the Shiplords takes higher precedence. We recognise this as hypocrisy," they added steadily, "and we have fought it. We would not be here otherwise, and please know that your existence has stirred many lost in despair to contemplate hope again."

"Why?" You asked, into the moment of silence that followed. "Why are we so important? You can speak to us, but what can you do with that if you remain unwilling to act?" You wanted to believe that there was more to this, but the pain in this being's voice was hard to set against a message of hope.

"Ah," the figure shook its head. "We forget to explain the rest. Our apologies." It turned halfway, gesturing out at the stars, and the shape of a galaxy you knew formed at the end of the gallery. "You hold such promise because with what you know already, and what we can give you, victory need not take the shape that you have seen." Stars winked out, bursts of fire playing out across the spaces between them in accelerated motion, and by the time it was done, many were lost.

"You are offering us a different path to victory?" You asked slowly. "One where the Shiplords would be just as stripped of power, or gone?" Tahkel nodded.

"We are, at least, we think so." They said, and your eyes narrowed in suspicion. "There are places across this galaxy, that we cannot see. Places that used to be open to us, that some of the eldest of our kind remember. Others were remembered by those who were eldest when our own set aside the real, and that knowledge was passed down."

"Wait," you shook your head, confused. "Your eldest's eldest? What does that mean?" It sounded self-explanatory, but the phrasing was specific. What would it matter?

"Those who were old when the oldest among us now were young," Tahkel replied, and something flickered in those brilliant eyes. "Our lifespans are not infinite. We begin anew, grow, change, age, and then fade. If it was not the case, then we would know why the Shiplords did what they did."

That held some disturbing possibilities for the immortality that the Second Secret and then Prologue had given you, but you did your best to ignore them for now. "You think these places might hold the key to a victory that will not cost us as much?"

"That is what we believe, yes." Five stars flared on the image of the galaxy. "In one of these places, lies the truth of our enemy. And with that, a path to victory that will not leave so many stars burned to dust."

"And if I were to ask my last question again," you asked, your voice hardening. "If I were to ignore the logistics of this, how far we would have to travel, and everything else. How would you give us reason to trust you."

"Because you know us now," the being replied, words you had expected. What came next, you had not. "And because your predecessors left behind what you would need to do this. To pierce the protections of the Shiplords, you would need a ship invested with power in a way only the Shiplords can. Or at least, it used to be just them. Your predecessors, the Elder First; they saw the barriers but did not understand them. And without understanding, they could only leave behind the means to break them."

Your world tilted again as you realised what that meant. What that had to mean. You could feel this being's emotions, feel its soul pulsing in time with its words. To lie like this…you did not believe it could be possible. And yet, could you trust that? With so much on the line?

"We do not ask for an answer now, Amanda Hawk," Tahkel said, and fear fluttered in a thousand voices. "In the end, there is little you can do with what we have given you, without our help. But we do not wish the galaxy to continue this way. And to be left to wait again if you fail, for you know as well as we that victory is not certain," They broke off. "We cannot let such promise pass, not now that you have realised it."

"Please," it was not begging, not quite, yet their eyes dimmed with the word. "We cannot promise all that you might wish; against Shiplord weaponry we are too vulnerable to take the field. Our deaths would mean nothing. But if there is a price you would ask of us, even that, then ask. We will carry it to a Gathering, and do all we can to prevail in it."

What do you do?
[] Demand of the Uninvolved
-[] Much
-[] Some
-[] Little
[] Ask of Tahkel
-[] Much
-[] Some
-[] Little
[] Ask nothing
[] Write-in?

There will be a 24 hour moratorium on this vote.​

 

[Snowfire]

"I will not demand of you." That statement came first, firmly spoken. You wouldn't do that, not to one who had suffered for so long. The oldest humans alive were barely halfway through their second century. You couldn't imagine what a single thousand would feel like, let alone hundreds of them. "But I must ask."

"Of course," Tahkel replied, setting a formless hand between you in a motion of acceptance that they couldn't possibly know. You wondered if the envoys of the Contact Fleet had felt like this.

"Of your collective," the word felt right, and you trusted that instinct. They had rarely led you wrong. "Four things, but with a caveat." Ghost-light eyes never flickered, yet the attention behind them sharpened. "If anything I ask would endanger your kind, I would not want it asked of them. We need your help, perhaps more than we know, but that means we need you alive to give it."

"You are kind," Tahkel began to say, only for you to shake your head, a sad smile on your lips.

"In this, I am only practical," you said gently. "Kindness would be something else."

The figure nodded. "We understand this condition, then. What would you ask of us?"

There were a great many things you wanted to ask, but so much of it was information that you planned to ask later. Of the Uninvolved as a whole, there was only so much you felt comfortable asking. One stood out above the rest, too, for a simple reason: you weren't the leader of humanity anymore. Adriana would trust your word in this, you knew, but you couldn't be indispensable like that. Your soul was here, you weren't, which ruled out most forms of communication…unless.

"This place," you asked, waving a hand at the not-space around you, "it's…you need a concentration of the soul to access it safely, don't you?" The expert in Practice theory that Mary was, you certainly weren't. But you possessed a different type of knowledge. Tahkel nodded silently, and you felt a fierce smile spring to your lips. "Could you communicate with Project Insight then? Their Thoughtcasts should be similar enough."

Tahkel appeared to consider the question for a moment, then spoke slowly, as if feeling out the shape of the words as they did so. "We believe so, yes. You are…worried about single points of failure?"

You shook your head. "Not just that. I'm not the leader of humanity anymore. Adriana, President Thera, is, and she'll need a way to talk to you. It's not going to be perfect," you doubted anything could be, without a way to directly interface with the Uninvolved in reality without setting off the Shiplord detection web. "But it should be enough."

"There is no need to ask this of us all," you caught the glimmer of a smile in the statement, "If this opportunity had not presented itself, I would have sought out the next Thoughtcast. So long as your Insight exists, I will make myself available to carry or answer any questions your people might have." That was good, but – wait.

"What do you mean by that?" You only just kept the words a question. "What opportunity, Tahkel?"

Tahkel's eyes dimmed for a moment, as if they were blinking. "You cannot have missed it, Amanda." Their voices sounded confused. "There is a reason I was able to make contact with you so easily. Perhaps you believe that it will fade, as it did after your second battle against the Shiplords. It will not. What you did today changed you. Or did you think that any could have done what you did, no matter your place at the heart of humanity's hopes?"

"I," you started to reply, then stopped. It was a question that you had tried to avoid after returning home. What you'd done in saving Kalilah had been the strength of humanity, united behind you in hope. But what had come after, the bell tone that had hushed the star system and the words which had followed. Your demand for a reason, an answer…that had not been humanity. That had been you. "No," you said softly. "I just didn't want to think about it yet."

Tahkel shifted, their posture turning sympathetic. "We do not believe you could ever be anything less than human. You're just a little more than that now." What did that even mean? "We understand that that isn't a real answer," and how had they known to answer an unspoken question? "If we could give a better one, we could."

"You've never seen something like this before?" You asked, then shook your head. "Of course. Practice is new. You can make connections, but they're only guesses."

"Correct." Tahkel nodded. "We shall try to give you a better answer the next time we speak. But you had three more things to ask, we believe."

"I would appreciate that," you said, replying to their offer first. "But yes, there was more." It was a short enough list, and two very similar answers to your first two questions reduced it quickly. Providing direct support in either of those fashions wouldn't work. From what they knew, the Shiplord reaction to an Uninvolved incursion would be downright murderous, and Sol was the only star system with something approaching a functional Orrery. And even that wasn't finished yet.

Research into the First Secret had been slated to begin the moment that the Third Battle of Sol ended, and you had no doubt that it had. Unfortunately, there seemed little that Tahkel and their kind could do to help there. Direct intervention…you'd read the files on what had happened to the predecessors to Insight; it had been the larger part of being cleared to personally request a Thoughtcast. That wouldn't work. Outright creating drives would set off the Shiplord detection net, though there was something…a little off when they told you that. Not that they were lying, but as if they weren't telling you something. Not yet, at least.

The final question prompted a much longer moment of consideration. Acting as a distraction to the Shiplords, popping up in deep space or uninhabited systems for just a moment, that might be possible. Risky, perhaps, but with so many others taking risks, Tahkel had been unwilling to simply refuse the possibility. It would be a difficult thing to ask, though, given the nature of the risk. The Uninvolved were singular entities, and if they died, everything they were went with them. In that, humanity and the other races ranged against the Shiplords were lucky. But what if you could change that calculus?

"There is something else," you added as the silence stretched.

"Yes?"

"You said that if you die, everything you are is lost." You weren't doubting that statement, but if an Uninvolved could connect to Project Insight, that would open a connection to the rest of the Project's systems, wouldn't it? "What if we could help you stop that being the case?"

There was an instant of silence that could have cut space itself. And when your host spoke, it was missing the edge of certainty that it had carried for almost the entire conversation so far. "You can't possibly-" You didn't let the words go further than that.

"Why not?" you demanded. "You are older than us, you know so much more than we do; I accept that. But you've been forced to get used to this world," you gestured around you, "and we don't live here. We live in a world where we are not singular, where we can create. If your existence is the history and memories of the species you once were, then let us record those things." You took a step forward, and the passion in your voice flared from your skin, cutting through the gentle shadows.

"What I have asked, what we might ask in the future, it could cost you everything you are. At least let us try to find a way to remember you, if the worst does come to pass." There was more to it than that, of course: the knowledge of an Uninvolved could have implications vaster than any discovery in the history of humanity. Especially if their abilities were similar enough to Practice for Potentials to reverse-engineer them. And yet, these were beings to whom death was utterly final. If they were willing to risk that, then they did not deserve to be forgotten.

"Please," you added, as the silence grew, realising only a moment later the echo of Tahkel's words mere minutes before. "At least let us try."

"We," the figure did not stutter, but the emotions you felt pouring off of Tahkel were enough to substitute for one. Confusion, that you would even make the offer. Concern, that even with your skills, it might prove impossible. Others, too, but all together they were not a match to the most present feeling, swelling beneath them. Such a simple thing, too, though at least this time it had already been present.

Hope.

The question that followed was one you'd been asked before. And yet, asked here, by this being, it meant something more. You'd given hope to the races of the Contact Fleet that victory might be possible. What you offered to Tahkel and the other Uninvolved here was something very different.

"Why would you offer this?"

[] None deserve to be forgotten.
[] It's the right thing to do.
[] Write-in

 

[Snowfire]

"No one deserves to be forgotten." It was easy to say, harder to mean, but you did both without pause. "No one, Tahkel," you repeated. "There's a saying among my people, that those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it. Your history is older than the evolution of our species."

"I see," Tahkel replied, confusion and something else swirling in their tone, and you found yourself smiling, despite all expectations. It was just easy to be this. To be yourself, and to speak what you believed. Here you stood. What else could you ever choose to be?

"Life is beautiful," passion surged through you with the pure truth of those words. "It's how humanity found healing, after the Shiplords came. We saw the beauty in life, in being more than war and death, and we found a way to hold on to that. It's why we are so willing to fight for a future where no one has to see less than that. And on some level," you paused, wondering if you should say it. But you had come this far. Now was not the time to hesitate.

"On some level," you continued, "you were robbed of that. Living as you do, in constant fear, no matter how lightly felt. You deserve more. Every life does." This was not hope; it went deeper than that. You were a Mender, a healer of wounds at their most elemental. The being before you had run from a world made too bleak for their race to continue. You could imagine no greater injury than that, no matter how ancient those scars might be now.

But you did not speak of it further. You had said all that was needed. They would know what more you knew, and that you had chosen to respect the edges of a scar driven through the very core of their psyche. That was enough. Healing wounds this deep wasn't easy, the closest you'd ever come to had been Mary, but the scale was so different. Yet pain was pain, you told yourself moments later. Comparing one to another missed the point. All were wrong.

"This war isn't one for conquest, that won't bring us victory," your swept out an open hand, and your soul answered the motion. Soothing radiance spilled out into the space around you, and something less than a gasp, and yet so much more, whispered beneath the light of countless stars. "This war is one for a future where we stand together, in freedom. If we do not practice what we preach, how can we expect your aid?"

"We have not," Tahkel began, and you shook your head, stopping the words with a motion cast in flickering soulight.

"You believe that your kind owes a debt," you could not fight that perception, it was too deep, too raw, even now. "But if you do, then it is one which must be remembered. And if we can add that to all that you are, besides, then I will do all in my power to see it done. And I know Adriana will agree."

"We," the Uninvolved paused, then shifted slightly, the motion translating in your mind to a simple nod. "We understand. Thank you."

"You are most welcome," you smiled. Your returned your hand to your side, and the light of your soul faded back into the shell that your mind had built to house you.

"You had other questions, we believe," the being said.

"I do."

"Ask."

On the nature of Practice itself, Tahkel was able to give few concrete answers, beyond what you already knew. They seemed genuinely contrite on the matter, but expressed a worry for your own mind, if they gave more than words. The Uninvolved possessed similar abilities, drawing power from the wellspring of their shared soul, and far less limited in its application in all ways but one. The Uninvolved could not set their power upon reality without being detected by the Shiplords. Potentials could. If this was a result of Practice's founding in the sacrifice of the Dragons, they weren't entirely sure. But in their own words, it seemed likely.

Seeking direct knowledge of the Secrets raised the same concerns. Even a single word on the matter, spoken soul to soul, could be dangerous. With all of their defences against feedback, Project Insight might be capable of it now, but only just. You had none of those defences, and you were needed to carry far more pressing messages. This wasn't a risk you could take. What Secrets the Shiplords possessed, however, was a far more positively received question. It remained so for as long as it took Tahkel to explain that, as far as the Uninvolved were aware, the Shiplords possessed every Secret known. Including Practice as a Secret reduced that count by one.

"Why do they forbid them, then?" You asked, as that answer came to an end. "Removing the First Secret removes easy interstellar travel, and the restrictions on post-Tributary races ensure that no race can challenge the War Fleets. Removing the Second…well, the Dragons make a good example. But is it just power? Nothing more?"

"We," Tahkel paused, considering the answer carefully. "We, Tahkel, do not believe so. The Uninvolved as a race, if you could call us that, are split on the matter. But if it was power the Shiplords wished, domination without challenge, the Tributary system is…flawed. It instills fear, certainly, but we believe that the Shiplords possess the ability to ensure that any rebellion would be detected or stopped. If nothing else, they could simply exterminate any race that they came across, and they don't."

"Why, then?"

The figure of the Uninvolved shook its head. "We do not know. One of the reasons we're here now lies in our hope that you will be able to discover the truth."

"Those systems?" You asked. "The ones that you can't see anymore?"

"Yes." Tahkel nodded. "There must be a reason for their secrecy. What has been passed down through our own generations speaks of truth hidden there. Whatever it might be, if it offers the chance of ending this war without setting the galaxy afire…" they trailed off, leading words in the silence.

"That could be worth the risk." You finished.

"Just so."

The conversation returned to this place twice more, first when asking about the seeming fascination of the Shiplords with sacrifice, and again as it came to a close.

With how Uninvolved formed, and how the Dragons gave humanity Practice, that there was power in sacrifice could not be denied. The Shiplords knew this; you had confirmation beyond any doubt of that now. But they didn't force races down that path. They made it available, encouraged a species to choose the way, but it was not absolute. And it could have been. Mastery of the Secrets made them more than capable of enforcing that.

Their first words to you shook Tahkel when you recounted them, proof that the Uninvolved had not seen that. But they did not change that any answer to the question you'd asked remained hidden. There was too much focus on the Secrets in that line for it be simple coincidence. More than that? The Uninvolved couldn't tell. They lacked the knowledge to do so.

Something they did not lack was information on where the Shiplords were, however, and that your host shared freely. Not all, but as much as they safely could, which on its own would be worth a debriefing. Mary was not going to be amused if this led to your needing to vanish less than a day after you'd gotten home. You resolved to try and not think about it for now, which was easier than it might have been. The coordinates of relays stations and fleet bases scattered across the outer spiral made for effective distractions. They even had some knowledge of deployment figures, including the location of the currently active Shiplord War Fleets. That you actively avoided for now, worrying about how little time it would take for them to reach you, if the order came, served no purpose.

"We've tried to find out as much as we can," you explained, as the conversation moved forward. "But we've had to be much more cautious since rebuilding the Project." As a leading statement, it served its purpose.

"You encountered a place where there are more active defences," the Uninvolved's gently glowing eyes narrowed in focus. "We believe we remember that. The Shiplords thought it might have been us, for a time, but we had made no incursion. Some among our kind would say that you put us at great risk, through that action." Their figure tossed its head. "We would call them short-sighted, to blame a young ally so, when nothing came of it."

"I hope we will prove worthy of that trust," you said, "but if they have active defences like that, why don't they deploy them everywhere? Would that not remove the threat your existences pose?"

"No." Tahkel laughed, the sound far darker than anything you'd heard so far. "Those defences are a deterrent to us, Amanda Hawk. If we chose to act fully, the Shiplords could not stop our actions with such things, only slow them. But we are too large, compared to your Thoughtcasts, and we would be inevitably snared until weapons capable of harming us could be brought to bear."

"Then," you stopped before you could finish the question, realising the answer. "Ah. Of course. Given the reality of Uninvolved society, just the threat is enough to keep you out." There was no judgement in statement, you made sure of that. It was simply stating fact.

"Fear is a powerful motivator," the Uninvolved agreed, sweeping a hand around them to take in the world beyond the hall of lights. "If you can truly offer a way to protect our memories, it will lose much of that power."

"They have these around the systems you think we should visit, don't they?" It wasn't really a question. If the systems had been made hidden, this had to be part of their protections. If they had not, well.

"If they didn't, we'd already know what was inside," there was something in Tahkel's voice as they stated that. Curiosity, yes, but also desire. A wish to know what the Shiplords had hidden, maybe even the hope that there might be some meaning to their pain. "Some of us remain curious enough to risk Shiplord ire. The shield they've built prevents our access, and the defences ensure that our community will not allow action to be taken. It is why you are so important."

"Someone that you can contact, of course." That made sense, but something was missing. "But even the closest of those systems would take months or years to reach with our own limited drives. And you've already said that you cannot supply us with new ones," and you stopped quite suddenly, as your host raised a single, ephemeral hand.

"That," the wrappings of calm around their voice frayed as they spoke, "is not quite the case."

"Pardon me?"

"The crystal you created with your sistersoul, during your youth," Tahkel explained, speaking quickly. "There is a reason that your attempts to understand it have continued to fail, more than simple luck. Simply put, it is a creation of two worlds. Yours, and ours. Just like you are capable of working power like we can without detection, that creation could allow us to act in your world without setting off the grid."

"Only in limited ways," they added quickly, before you could suggest something far grander than what you suspected of their intentions. "Highly limited, in truth. But enough to grant you the wings required to reach those worlds, long before they could ever expect it. And your predecessors left behind a ship perfect for such an endeavour."

"The Adamant," you whispered, and your head jerked up, sharply. "Did they find you?"

"No," Tahkel shook their head. "But they found pieces of the puzzle and left behind what they thought you might require. That ship was the largest piece." Only literally, you joked in the privacy of your own mind. But wait, if they could create a drive capable of reaching those worlds so quickly, then-

"You can create a drive that breaks the First Secret limitations?" You all but snapped, even as you took care not to ask how.

"We see the Secrets a little differently to yourselves," Tahkel explained in way of reply. "What is a limit to one, is sometimes only a barrier to another. Like how the defences around those systems would prove unbreachable to any group that lacked your presence. The Adamant, as you called it, will not be enough."

'Time, and your growing wisdom, will unlock the rest.' The words echoed in your mind, the voices of the Elder First granted but an echo of their will. Voices you'd heard last almost twenty years ago. Could it truly be so simple?

"Do not give us your answer now," not that you'd intended to, but the offer from your host was appreciated. "Simply…think, please. There is little we can do with the anchor of your creation, but if you feel as we feel, and are willing to believe in the hope of victory without devastation. Then please, think quickly."

"I will," you promised, and something flickered at the edge of your perceptions, a flickering presence like a dream, yet so much more than one. Something real, you realised a moment later. "I'm going to wake up soon, aren't I."

"You are," they bowed their head. "We are sorry to take this night from you so completely, but we possess only a minimum of control over the interactions of time in these conversations. Perhaps your fellows could find a way to do so." The vision backdropped in starlight began to ripple and tear. "You will carry our messages, yes?"

"I will," you said again. "And I will be there when we give you our answer, too. And mine."

What time passed between that promise and the light of the late Mytikas dawn waking you, you never knew. But you did wake, to find Mary curled at your side, her sleeping face gentle and serene. You didn't want to wake her, but-

:Amanda!: The voice of Sidra, the intelligence housed in your Unison Platform, echoed suddenly in your mind. :What the hell was that?:

Pick a course of action:
[] Explain things to Sidra.
[] Wake up Mary to talk.
[] That didn't count as sleep. Get some rest first.
[] Write-in

 

[Snowfire]

:Fast-time,: you replied. Your body felt at least partially rested, but your mind certainly wasn't. Not enough for this. Sidra could keep you going for days on end, but they preferred not to except when it was necessary. Perceptual acceleration, on the other hand? The world around you slowed, the rise of your chest sliding into a syrupy smoothness, then past that to a complete stop. Or what felt like one, at least. :I had a visitor, Sidra.:

You felt the motion of their thoughts form questions, demands, all born of concern for you. Your continuation scattered them to the winds. You opened your thoughts and memory to the Unison Intelligence that shared a piece of your soul, noting idly that they'd only accelerated your mind, not your body with it. That was going to be annoying, but you could feel Sidra's worry for you in their reasoning. A moment later, you understood it. They opened their own memories of the night, of the moments that had preceded your wakening. That entire conversation, in bare seconds? That couldn't be right.

:I felt something,: they explained, repeating the memory that you'd already experienced. :A surge in your soul, like when we work power together, yet without my presence. When I tried to find you, I couldn't. And then you woke, and something…Mandy, I don't think you understand.: A picture flowed into your mind, splitting into two before your eyes, colour and tone forming an image behind your eyes.

:That's my soul,: you sent, and you felt the beginning of tears in your eyes as the truth of your words registered. A truth you'd not known until you spoke, yet how could it be anything less? You knew those shapes, those formless patterns and colour that spoke of you without making a sound.

:How we see it, yes.: Sidra corrected you gently. :But it's changed now. Wherever you were, whatever you did, it's made you something,: they trailed off, unsure or perhaps still viewing your own experiences. What Tahkel had told you slipped out into your thoughts, a message and a guide to the moment with it.

What you did today changed you they'd said. Sidra caught on the guide, fixing to the memory, and recognition touched the feeling of their thoughts. The two images solidified, context making all clear. What you'd looked like before one shone, uncannily clear. And what you were now. Trying to describe the changes would have been impossible, no words existed in any of the languages you knew to express them.

:What have I become?: You asked the world, unknowing in the moment of broadcasting the question to one of the few beings in all reality close enough to you to understand it. You didn't feel different.

:Why would you?: Sidra asked. Their voice was remarkably gentle. :You're still you, right?:

:I,: you struggled to reply. Tahkel had told you that they didn't think you could ever be anything less than human, and that had mattered. How had it mattered? Or were you simply too tired to parse it right now? Maybe that was the truth. You had time to decide, later. And you shouldn't make decisions like that alone.

:Not now,: you decided, making the thought a promise. :I need sleep before I can deal with this properly, Sidra. Do you have everything?:

:Of course.: That was an answer to more than just that question, you knew. Acceptance of your decision, yet still a desire to help. :Would you like me to set up a meeting? Adriana and the rest will need to know about this. I could tell them for you, but,: you felt the movement of a shaking head.

:They will need to hear this from both of us,: you agreed. :It's too big for just one. And,: your eyes strayed to Mary's still serenity. :Our family should know first.: You never considered what that statement meant until the pause lengthened enough for your chest to move far enough for you to notice.

:Thank you,: Sidra's mental voice felt unsteady, off-balance even. Something you'd never associated with their calm presence. You must have been tired, not to realise in that moment, but it came eventually.

:You've always been family, Sidra,: you chided the intelligence. :Part of you is part of me. That's what it means, isn't it?:

:By one definition, I suppose,: they conceded. :Yet you have never said so so plainly. So again, I thank you.:

:I'm sorry,: you really were. :Truth is meant to be evident, but even at our best, the obvious sometimes needs spoken.: You paused. :I think that's me out of wisdom. Can I sleep now?:

:Rest well.: A smile shone in the words, a breath of sunshine and summer rain. Then the world sprang back into motion. You slumped down beside your closest friend in all of it. Sleep, and the rest you so dearly needed, followed swiftly. The world really would be there when you woke up.

You'd have a lot more to do than you'd planned for when you did, but that was alright. If there was a chance for that world you loved, and all the people in it, to not suffer so terribly for the peace of victory, that was worth almost anything. You'd lost count of the times in your life when you'd given hope, when you'd offered of yourself, turning yourself slowly into an embodiment of the limitless possibilities that life offered. You'd learnt to forget the weight of that burden long ago. And yet, this time, it wasn't your hope that you'd be bringing.

And wasn't it odd, you thought, as the world faded through gentle greys. That this one didn't weigh a thing?

 

[Snowfire]

Manhattan, Earth
30 Minutes after Third Battle of Sol

"And how the hell do I write an article on that?" You muttered to yourself, flopping down on the long sofa facing the holo-display. Some fumbling retrieved the remote from where it had hidden itself under a cushion. A brief argument with its controls found you staring at what you'd been looking for: the image that was well on its way to being the most popular still image in human history. Not that the subject matter was going to be changing the history books that much. Amanda Hawk had obliterated that record twice before already.

This felt a little different, though. The way she looked, staring out at the various receivers, the staff of rippling aquamarine slamming down on an invisible surface. A few correspondents had already weighed in on that, though they'd all cited the change that had followed to show that Miss Hawk was still as much of a paragon of humanity as ever. That didn't feel right to you at all. There was more to humanity than care, more to protection than valour. The First Awoken had come to Focuses that hated and swore vengeance upon those who had taken so much from them. Commander Mishra had embodied that, and if the feedback coming in from the Ministry of Science was right, almost had taken that embodiment to its logical conclusion.

"No, Carl," you told yourself, rolling over onto your back on the sofa, ignoring the mess of the room around you. You'd deal with that tomorrow. For today, you were allowed the concession to celebration. That, and you had an article to write. Commander Mishra's almost-sacrifice wasn't something you could write about, at least not right now. That wasn't what humanity needed. And, you paused a moment to swipe a finger through the air above you, humanity didn't need an outpouring of unthinking praise, either.

"That's not what she'd want either," you shook your head, wiping the articles projected above you away. It wasn't what humanity was feeling right now. Oh, there was thanks, and praise, certainly. But that wasn't all, and good media catered to the needs of its audience when it offered up the truth, when it could. That was what made it good media. Choosing how to say something was as important as what you chose to say. The fireworks bursting above the city, above every city, were all that needed to be seen to recognise humanity's thankfulness. You doubted they were going to stop until morning. They hadn't last time.

But what, then, did you want to write about? What was it that humanity needed right now, that none of your companions were giving? You knew you had high standards, and there was no fault in writing what was easy. But, again, what was needed instead of wanted. "I should have become a painter," you muttered, reaching down to the side and pulling up the extendable tablet that you used for work. "Eryn never has problems like this." A bald-faced lie, you knew, but one that made you feel better. Your wife wouldn't hold it against you.

She'd gone out to celebrate, to mingle, and had made you promise to come find her in ten minutes from now if you didn't find something to write about. And yes, you'd enjoy it, but different perspectives were important. She knew that as well as you did.

You looked back at the image, at the expression on Amanda's face, a woman you'd met only once – though once had been enough. You'd never seen her look like that, not once, not ever. Resolved, yes. But this wasn't resolution, and so few people really wanted to admit what it reminded them of. The idea that she, the woman who was seen as the best of you so often, could fall so deeply to rage was understandably frightening. Yet it needed recognised, or it would just…fester. She wouldn't want that, either. Someone would pick it up in an editorial a few days or weeks from now, but that would be then. But how to take that feeling, and turn it into something that you could write?

"That's easy," you sighed, staring at the blank text panel you'd called up. You didn't waste time finishing the statement. Six minutes left to get a start. Instead, you reached up, and started sketching out the words that you hoped would suffice.

Being hurt, being angry, that was part of being human. That Amanda could feel those things, and show them, that only made her more a human being. That was a good thing, not something to be feared. That proof should be given the time it deserved, so that the person behind it would get the care she was owed by all of you. More words spilled out onto the page, forming statements that you hoped would help shape the world.

How did you write an article about that, as you'd asked upon entering your living room? The answer was easy. You didn't write about what had happened. You wrote about the person at the core of it all. As might be expected, you didn't make it down to Eryn that evening, though she did send Reese up to drag you down to look at her light-sculpture. After that, your memory was a little hazy until you woke up the next morning with four people scattered across the bed and your social feed roleplaying a continuous fusion detonation.

***​

It is the nature of humanity to glorify, to love our existence and those who allow it continue. This is as it should be, as thanks should always go to those who protect us. But we must care for these people, too, and in the face of our most visible protector tonight I see much that deserves such care.

Amanda Hawk has long been lauded as one who has given much whilst asking nothing in return. I will not waste my reader's time in listing her still-growing list of accomplishments. But today, we saw a side to her that has never been shown publicly. Look at the expression on the face of the one who many call the voice of humanity, and do not be scared to recognise what you see. Anger is as much a part of who we are as compassion, as is the act of offering the latter to the former.

Today, I saw the voice of humanity catch herself short of vengeful hatred. But I can see myself in her motions, and can only thank Commander Mishra for whatever she must have said to stop her. Yet I can no more condemn her feelings than I could stop the sun from rising, and it is well documented that I am no great scientist, nor a Potential. Today, I ask that we recognise that, and that we offer our care to those who protected us from annihilation.

We rose from the ashes through recognising the need for compassion. I implore you all to find it in yourselves do the same in the days to come.
- An excerpt from 'The Face of Victory' by Carl Risanch

 

[Snowfire]

"You're sure?" Mary asked quietly from the seat next to you, her slender hands wrapped around the mug of coffee that was her morning drink of choice. Delicious smells filled the air, and the gentle crackle and hissing of bacon and pancakes came from beyond the partition that led through to your home's small kitchen. Iris' work, this time. She'd been quite insistent about it.

Warm light filtered in through the open windows, and the flowers and small trees in the garden beyond stretched up towards its gentle caress. The Martian summer was moving into full bloom, and it was hard to imagine a more idyllic picture. Green grass, stretching out to a thicket of trees where you both knew children from all over the neighbourhood often played. White curtains framed the image, a picturesque vision of peace that you knew was true. And yet also a façade, for the reality just beyond it, far above the sky.

"I trust what I experienced," you said, replying to the most obvious question. You weren't actually sure which one your friend was asking. "Whatever it was, Mary, it wasn't a dream. Sidra's looked over it all, and they believe it's true, too. There's no way to prove it, not without Tahkel contacting Insight, but-"

"Not that," Mary shushed you gently, moving one hand from her cup to rest on yours. Your fingers twined together a moment later. "I trust you, Mandy. You know that," there was no reprimand to the reminder. "I meant are you sure you want to do this today?"

"I don't think I have a choice," you sighed, helplessly. Your fingers tightened, squeezing gently. "I know that my memories won't fade, Sidra can keep them. But there's no chance that the Shiplords didn't get away with full resolution scans of Kaliah's event and my," how did you express that? Almost losing control when I'd never thought I had anything to lose control of? "My," you tried again, only for the words to slip away.

"Your outburst?" Iris asked, appearing at the doorway from the kitchen with three plates balanced precisely in the air around her. Her hair was longer today, and much brighter; a swirling mix of vibrant greens and blues. She smiled a little shamefacedly. "You know I can't help hearing most of the time. Not for you and Mary, not after," she broke off, not wanting to say what she'd wailed into your arms the night before. Not something that she wanted to think about right now, and you wouldn't make her.

"That's a good word. Outburst, I mean," you added before her look of confusion could spread too far. But it didn't detract from your point. "The difference in how the Tribute Fleet and the Regulars reacted to Practice use on that scale was telling, but I can't imagine that Insight got it wrong. When the Regulars get to a relay we're going right to the top of the priority list, even after the rest of the Group of Six gets involved. And," Iris reached the table, and the plates around her glided down to the table settings, bringing you up short.

"Not when there's food on the table, mom," your daughter said primly, making you both smile. It was a rule you'd instituted when Iris had still been a child, and which you'd held to since. Life as President had made working during your meals a simple reality. But you'd remembered a similar rule from your own parents, that meals were a place for family. Not work, or the fears of tomorrow. And, well, you had a feeling that you should grab those moments as often as you could. In the yawning abyss that was opening before humanity, the time for even this might become hard to find.

"This looks lovely, Iris," Mary remarked, poking experimentally at one of the pancakes before grinning. "You've been practicing, haven't you?"

"Yes," your daughter nodded, her eyes sparkling with the joy of a job recognised as well done. "On Aya and Nei," she laughed. "Aya kept on telling me that pancakes for breakfast every day isn't a balanced diet. But she always ate them."

"Exactly how many months did you make these for them until you were satisfied?" You asked casually, taking a quick bite from your own plate to avoid your daughter's glower. They were done just right.

"How many months did you make them until you were satisfied?" She riposted in good cheer, placing carefully sliced sections of bacon onto each of her pancakes.

You laughed. "I didn't do it concurrently, that makes it different."

Mary looked back and forth between you, then shook her head. "You're absolutely hopeless," she said, around a warm smile. She took another bite, chewing considerately before swallowing and nodding once. "But I guess that good pancakes make you both worth it."

"I suppose that there are worse things to be wanted for than your skillet," you mused, a sly smile stretching across your face as you turned to look at Iris. "Is that why Aya and Nei put up with you?"

There was a simple pleasure in getting your daughter to blush solid scarlet. The laughter that followed was good, but the feelings behind it meant so much more. Maybe that was the point? The soul existed; it was something that could be quantified. You were even starting to understand it. But the heart was more than anyone could yet put words to. Laughter was good for the soul, but family…family was good for the heart. You knew which one you valued more. That you'd always value more. After all, it hadn't been the soul that had made the Circles work. Not in the beginning.

:You will need to leave soon, if you want to make your meeting,: Sidra sent, as you swallowed down the last few bites of your breakfast. The Unison's voice was apologetic.

:I know,: you replied, wrapping your message in the same feelings that you felt surrounding you. They were part of your family too. They deserved to feel this. :Are we going together, or are the others coming?:

:That's their choice,: it was almost a reproof, but the care behind it was obvious. :But what do you think?:

:That I don't make sucker bets: Your mental tone was a smile, and the feeling of a breaking dawn. It wasn't hard to put an echo of that into the words you spoke verbally a moment later. "So, after we get these dishes done, will you be joining me?" It wasn't, quite, a violation of the rule. Close, yes, but still acceptable.

"We'll go with you," Mary said, "but being in there with you? That's up to you, Mandy, at least for me."

"Hmm?" You asked wordlessly, directing your gaze to Iris. Your daughter's hair brightened in tune with her smile.

"Vision's busy with cleanup," she said simply. That would explain it. With only two AIs in the entire system, there was a limit to the amount of safe storage available. If Vision was busy, Iris was the only being capable of operating the highest level of security apparatus whilst ensuring a full record would be kept. She could secure her memories of the event, for future generations to remember. No other could. And she was willing to shoulder that burden, even now.

There was nothing else for it. You leant across the table, and pulled the young AI into a fierce hug. She made a small sound of surprise, but leaned into the motion without complain. "I'm so proud of you," you murmured into her hair.

"I had good role models," she said quietly, speaking only as you both drew back from each other. "You and Mary, and my friends. I'm…going to have to see them again, soon. I hope they're all alright." It wasn't just Aya and Nei that she was worried about, either.

"I can't imagine that we won't be staying a few days, sweetie. And the Residence is always open to you." It was something of a moot point, given how she had access to the security protocols, but it was the thought that counted.

"Thanks, mom." Iris straightened, her hair fading into gentler shades. She nodded resolutely. "I think I'll take you up on that. But we shouldn't keep Adri waiting."

"No," Mary said from the door, setting your three plates down into the washer. "We definitely shouldn't. Did Sidra file a flight plan?"

You checked. :Thanks,: you sent, speaking a moment later. "We have an administrative priority path, courtesy of our host. There's a Cabinet shuttle waiting for us at the spaceport. Do either of you need to take anything?"

"Anything we need, we can get there." Your friend stated, stepping back into the room and heading for the door. "Let's go."

***​

The flight to Prometheus proved uneventful and you put the quiet to good use. You and Mary went over the notes you'd made, making sure to tease out every single detail with Sidra's help. Your Unison's ability to look back into your mind and pick out what had occurred was utterly invaluable in that endeavour. With that, and your friend's help, you were able to lay everything out and then split it down into three distinct sections. As your shuttle began its approach towards the most powerful of humanity's defence platforms, hanging tens of thousands of kilometres above Earth, only one question remained. Which one to begin on?

That question stayed with you through docking, out into the secured bay you'd visited less than six months ago, to discover the date of the invasion your species had just smashed. It stayed with you as you followed the same path of shining, empty corridors deep into the station to the secure conference room at its heart.

And it was still with you as you reached the door to that place, and found Mary beside you, her face drawn. "Do you want me to come with you?" She asked, at last. She wasn't sure if she wanted to go into that room, if she should come with you. And in this, you knew, your opinion would matter. If you wanted her there, then she'd be able to enter. Given where your encounter had taken place, it was more than likely that Mary would be asked to lend her expertise to the conversation. But that would be someone else asking. Did you want to?

Do you ask Mary to come with you?
[] [Mary] Yes
[] [Mary] No

Yet the larger question still whispered at the edge of your mind. Once you'd introduced the event responsible for this meeting, where did you take the conversation next? Tahkel had offered your race a great deal, and the explanations would give your audience context as to the nature and capabilities of the Uninvolved. It was easy to say that you knew they were telling the truth, but the people you were about to talk to had to weigh those words against all of humanity.

Then what if the best option would be to begin with the truest promise they'd offered, and one that you knew would strike close to home now that the war was upon you all. Tahkel had only offered you the possibility, but you knew what the cost of this war would be if you fought it as Insight had predicted you would. Entire star systems would burn, and when the war finally ended, the victors would reign over a shattered galaxy. For freedom, that cost was worth it. But what if it didn't have to be paid? A chance to change the shape of victory could be worth more than anything else. The only problem was that starting there might be too much as an opener.

The door hissed open, to reveal a room that you knew well by now, and you stepped inside. Adriana and the rest were already there, and you noted your daughter's movements slow a touch as she interfaced with the security systems. She'd done so before, you knew, but this was her first time doing it alone. Of course she'd be careful.

"You really don't believe in doing anything by halves, do you Mandy," The harsh lines on Adriana's face reflected the tiredness that you'd felt this morning, and you doubted she'd had time to sleep properly since. You hoped she'd pay attention to those needs soon. The advanced versions of Prologue and other Sixth Secret systems she possessed could hold them at bay for a while. They couldn't eliminate them entirely.

"I can honestly state that I'm completely innocent this time," you replied, meeting the gaze of your friend and protégé with a warm smile. The Presidency had exacted the costs it always did, you could see them in her green eyes. The sparks of a bright, caring mind cut sharp by the world that she sought to protect. You recognised that look. You saw it every day, in your mirror. "Hello, Adriana."

"What have you got for us?" Straight to the point, then. But which one?

How do you begin your explanation?
[] [Begin] What is Offered – Begin with what Tahkel had offered humanity, and the reasons why. Not for your help, but because they felt it was owed. They might not exist in the physical world you know, but they are still the same as you, in some ways. And they have offered a great many gifts, freely.
[] [Begin] A New Shape – Get the bombshell out of the way. That there might be another way out of this war, and that the Uninvolved are offering you a way to find it. It needs said. Everything else is secondary.
[] [Begin] To Give Freedom – The Uninvolved are beings of vast power, you know this, but the truth of their ability to wield that power is very different. So different, in fact, that humanity is capable of offering them something. Explain the Shiplord web, why the Uninvolved fear them, and how humanity might be able to change that.

 

[Snowfire]

"Please?" You asked your oldest friend as she stood there beside you before the bulkhead of shining metal. Both of you had been here before, yet now she was unsure if she should take the step forward. But she should be here for this, and not just for what you had to say. "You know they'll be asking for you if you don't."

She flushed, but it was nothing that wasn't true. Mary was humanity's foremost expert in soul science. Not having her present would only require the opening of the security seal once you were finished explaining things. Better to have her there throughout. And your invitation had never specified just you. Had that been Adriana's way of offering, without requirement? It felt like her brand of cleverness. Thoughtful of her.

"You're sure?" She asked. Her green eyes reflected total trust, but there was concern as to the wider implications there, too. It was a reasonable fear, but unfounded in this case. Assuming you were reading things right, at least.

"I am," you said firmly. And that was, well, that. Your friend nodded once, her eyes very bright. Then she stepped up to your side, took a breath, and you stepped through the bulkhead door together. It sealed behind you, and the room's security systems spun up to full power. It took a little while, long enough for you to approach the table and greet Adriana, before Iris spoke to confirm it.

"We're all locked up, Madam President," she said formally. She sounded a little distracted from where she was standing behind you, but she was operating this system for the very first time. Test runs weren't the same. And this was quite the audience.

"Thank you, Iris," Adriana nodded, before her attention returned to you, expectant. She already knew a little; Sidra had briefed her in as much as they could. But, even then…it might be better to just start at the beginning. Get things grounded, and then let those who would have to make much larger decisions take it from there. Though you had the sneaking suspicion that you'd end up much more involved in those, at least where this was concerned, in the weeks and months ahead. You were too…involved. The thought prompted a chuckle.

Then you met the gaze of your friend, having taken in the line of Ministers. Lina was there, seemingly recovered from the battle, and looking much better for it. You imagined she might have had a whole hour of sleep. The others you didn't know as well, but what you did know would be enough.

"I know there was a briefing packet sent to you," you began steadily, "but for the avoidance of any doubt, I think I need to tell you this as it happened." The discussion would come later. Right now, these people needed to know what you'd experienced, in detail. "Last night, after the battle, I had a dream that wasn't. For the benefit of the Ministry of Security, Siddhartha can confirm that what I experienced was not the fruit of imagination." The man sitting two places to the left of Adriana nodded once, though their expression revealed little. You took that as motion to continue.

"What actually took place last night was a First Contact with an Uninvolved, acting as spokesperson for their," you paused, realising that there was no real word for what you needed to say. "For those who share that existence," you said at last. "They greeted me with a gestalt of their existence, similar to the opening of my shared Reverie with Observer Lorelli. And caught my attention further with their words of introduction. That they wished to speak, of events that had transpired, and of how the war to which we have now committed ourselves might end."

You didn't need to say anything more in that vein; the words of Tahkel served perfectly. And the implications of those words were just as effective now, to his audience, as they had been to you. Perhaps that had been deliberate on more levels than one, to aid in your own explanations. But perhaps not. The nature of an Uninvolved did not appear to lend itself to deception, nor manipulation, but your instincts were as fallible as any others.

From there, your own explanation flowed naturally, through the motions that you had charted. Your own questions, of the Uninvolved and more. Why they had never acted, never communicated, and the…convenient nature of their timing in approaching humanity now. You couldn't answer everything; you'd known that would be the case going in. But you could offer more than you word, at least for the future.

"They promised to make contact with Insight, if Phoebe seeks them out," you explained in reply to the head of the State Department, noting with some amusement the glint of interest in the woman's grey eyes. Her department hadn't had a great deal to do in the leadup to the Third Battle of Sol, and this was an entirely new area of diplomacy to explore. Given her past involvement in founding the Diplomatic Corps, you'd expected that. "I made it clear in our conversation that whilst I could bring their case to you I was not a leader of humanity. Not anymore."

"What are they offering, then?" Lina asked, her face set in a thin line. She was finding it difficult to accept an offer of help on the heels of the losses the FSN had taken in the Third Battle of Sol. It had been difficult for you, too, but the pain in Tahkel's communications had been too real to truly hold that against them. Yet that had been your experience, and those words would not help Lina right now.

"A great deal, I believe, though not everything we might wish," you admitted. "There are many things, at least where the Secrets are involved, where they cannot offer aid for fear of drawing the attention of the Shiplords, damaging the recipient, or both. But they possess knowledge that can help us, too."

:Sidra, if you would?: You asked.

:Of course.: The Unison Intelligence connected to the room's central display console and activated it. The familiar spirals of the Milky Way took shape above the projector, but there were some new additions to the image. Dots of red light blinked steadily across it, their frequency split between two major categories. A moment later, a handful of violet icons joined them, burning steadily.

You took a moment to thank Sidra, then gestured towards the display. "The red dots represent the locations of every Shiplord relay station and fleet base in the outer spiral, as of last night. Tahkel included some deployment figures, too, though they're not complete. And these," you highlighted one of the unblinking purple symbols, "are the locations of every War Fleet that the Shiplords currently possess."

Twelve lights, to represent the most lethal concentrations of applicable force in the galaxy. It was at once a little underwhelming, and subtly terrifying. "Tahkel's best estimate puts the closest one to us less than two weeks away at maximum jump rate. However," you added quickly, countering the descent into deathly silence, "War Fleets rarely use their maximum jump rate to reach a combat zone, due to logistical and maintenance concerns. A more reliable estimate would be four to six months. Not long, I admit, but a calculation made without considering how the Shiplords will react to the Group of Six rebelling against their control."

"They could choose to expedite that transit, deal with us quickly before handling issues closer to home," Lina pointed out, her face drawn. Yet behind that concern was the same mind that had led humanity to victory twice against the Shiplords. You could almost see the steady calculation, as she tried to work out what projects could be folded into completion of the Orrery. Then she nodded.

"It'll be close, but as long as they don't burn here at max, I think we can do it." Adriana looked over at her, questioning, and Lina shrugged. "I didn't say it would be easy, Adriana. But the hardest to build part of the Orrery is already finished. It might be rudimentary, but so long as the theory behind the idea actually works, it'll suffice. We've got the construction capacity at the Ministerial level, though more would always be appreciated."

"I'll see what we can shake loose, Lina," Nathaniel, Adriana's replacement as head of the Home Office, said. The sandy-haired man had come up through the Home Office directly and worked hard to prove himself a worthy successor. He'd yet to disappoint. "But the Orrery is survival- critical. There are plenty of plans that can be pushed back for that."

"That would be appreciated," Lina said thankfully. "I'd rather have the Fleet restored before we have to fight a War Fleet." Adriana nodded, a small smile on her face as she did so. A very familiar one, in fact. You were certain you'd worn it during your own time as President, given how the competence of your cabinet had played such an extensive role in your successes then. It was good to see that Adriana had found her own.

"As useful as this information stands to be, however," Adriana's Security Minister noted, "I believe there is more to this story." You nodded in reply. "Then please, go on."

You did so.

By the end of the rest, your audience was almost uniformly grim faced, despite the sparks of hope hiding behind the eyes of a few of them. They all knew the score as Insight had given it, that victory against the Shiplords in a military conflict would be utterly devastating. Yet for another option to be offered so easily, even if truly wasn't easy, was difficult to trust. At the same time, the possibility of a way out of the predicted catastrophe was equally difficult to ignore. Even if the Uninvolved were wrong, knowing more of your enemy could be incredibly valuable.

"And you're absolutely certain?" It wasn't what Lina was focused on, however. "They can use the Artefact you created to build a drive that can jump without restrictions?"

"Tahkel believes so," you replied carefully. "They could do a great deal more, no doubt, but creations like that Artefact should allow them to act in reality to some degree without triggering the Shiplord detection web - what we may reasonably assume caught Insight's Thoughtcast before the Second Battle of Sol."

"Can you replicate them?" Lina asked, almost demanded, really.

"I," you shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Lina. We've spent years trying to just understand that thing. Now that we know what it is, that might be easier. But replication? I don't know. We'd need time to break down how it does what it does, and given the complexity of what we're talking about here," you looked over at Mary. Your friend had been silent through the entire discussion thus far, but this was more her field than yours. She caught the look, chuckled once, then nodded.

"The issue, Lina," Mary said softly, "is that the nature of how the crystal allows for interaction without detection isn't understood. We know that Potentials can influence the world around them without detection, but that's a result of their souls being anchored to reality. The crystal allows for the same thing, in a limited sense. But the workings of that process…we'd need to observe an Uninvolved working through it to get a good idea. And I'm not sure if that's a process that could be reversed."

"We've been working on soul science for a while, Mary," Adriana said, but Mary's abortive headshake brought her to a stop.

"Not like this," she said. "Adriana, this is like the difference between…between a flintlock cannon and one of the FSN's latest generation grav disruptors. They're both weapons, yes, but one is so much more complicated than the other. I'm not sure if we have the mastery to make sense of this, yet. We can try, and of course we will, but this opportunity seems time limited."

"That's," Adri sighed, "true, yes. Damn. They aren't making this easy."

"The fact that it isn't," the Minister of Security pointed out, almost grudgingly, "is almost a good thing. The fact that it would require one of our most potent Potentials to be detached for an indeterminate period is certainly less than optimal, however."

"As well as the personnel necessary to support you," Lina added, very loudly not mentioning the realisation that you'd already come to that you'd only keep your immediate family out of this through by force. Which you weren't willing to do, especially when both could argue that there were valid reasons for their presence. Good ones, too.

There was a long silence after that, as everyone in the room processed those implications. "I'm not sure we can afford to ignore it, though," Adriana said heavily. "The UPI report gave us a good chance of victory, but if there's another one out there? We owe it to everyone we're about to ask to die to try and find it." There was a resolution behind the younger woman's eyes that you'd only ever seen a handful of times before.

"Amanda," she asked then. "Do you believe that this is worth it? I know there are reasons you trust this interaction, beyond our own. We all know the risk that we'd be courting in doing this, in sending you so deep into Shiplord territory in search of secrets they've kept hidden for millions of years. Are you willing to take those risks?"

You looked over at Mary, back to Iris, and saw through the worry and fear on their faces a match to the resolution in Adriana's eyes. They knew why this was important, just as you did. What more could you do, but answer?

What do you sa Vote aborted by previous character choices.

"How could I do anything less?" You asked gently, adding your own resolve to the room. Adriana bowed her head, but you could tell she'd expected that answer.

"We'll need to confirm things with an Insight link, but assuming that works," it would, you knew, though you understood the need to confirm it. "Then I believe we will have to fit out the Adamant for your mission." You blinked. That was moving much faster than you'd expected. "Lina, how long?"

"It's a frigate analogue. I can have a berth for it tomorrow. It'll have to be a custom job, though." She considered her own words a moment. "A week, maybe two. Two more for a proper shakedown; we can't risk design faults here."

"What about looking into replication of the interface Artefact?" Nathaniel asked, and Lina grimaced.

"Depends on how long that might take." She looked between Mary and the current Minister for Science. "Mary, Anna? Any ideas how long that might take for an evaluation?"

"This is more Mary's bailiwick than mine," Anna replied.

"Assuming we throw everything at it? I think we could get a basic evaluation in a few months. More time would be better, but it might be better to get us on our way before the War Fleet gets here. Just in case."

"Wait," you said at last, finding a moment to speak between the chatter. "Adriana, Mary, Lina? You're really wanting to," you stumbled to a halt as the entire room speared you with a shared look. "Ok," you conceded, "I'm not really anyone to talk where taking leaps of faith are concerned, am I."

"Not particularly," Mary said, her voice gentle. "But you should be involved in this too, Mandy. You've heard our timelines. What do you think?" Way to turn that back on you, you thought, but only quietly. What was the optimal timeline? And hadn't you resigned the Presidency to get away from choices like this?

How much preparation time does Amanda believe the mission into Shiplord space should take? You must define a time here, as Amanda is an involved party in this decision process. If you choose to leave ahead of the War Fleet, you will not be back in time to defend against it. No write-ins this time.
[] Shakedown – Depart as soon as design, construction and shakedown of the Adamant are complete. 1 month. Will leave little time for research, but makes departure ahead of any War Fleet assault all but certain.
[] Evaluation – Remain for long enough to complete a proper evaluation of the Void Crystal, now that you have some idea of what it does. 2-3 months, depending on rolls. Good chance of being gone before the War Fleet hits.
[] Implacable – Delay your departure until after the War Fleet assault has been handled. May take up to six months. May allow for more research time, but could also add significant delay to a potentially critical investigation. Ensures your participation in the Fourth Battle of Sol.

There will be an 12 hour moratorium on this vote.​

 

[Snowfire]

You'd wanted to escape the ever-present responsibility when you stepped down, that much was true. But this matter was one you couldn't escape being involved in. Tahkel had contacted you, and though you'd prevailed to have them open communication through Project Insight, it had still come to you first. You wanted to say that that didn't matter, that this was Adriana's decision far above yours. But that wasn't true, was it? You were the point of contact right now, and it was your words that they were trusting. That made you an expert on the matter, in as much as it could have one, and you'd taken the advice of experts as President more times than you could count.

That realisation changed things, at least a little. You were giving advice, not direction, and the two were different. You chose.

"There's no telling how long our mission might take, Adriana," you said. "Leaving early is too big of a gamble to make, and even if only one system could give us everything we needed," you doubted that, it would be too easy. "It's a one in five chance. Those are too short with everything else that's at stake. If we want to truly help our allies, we'll need a way to reach them. The Uninvolved can give us that, if we can give them more of these."

You held up the crystal that you'd created decades ago, holding it far more carefully than you ever had, as if it were delicate glass. "When Potentials like me create, it's hard to be sure what will come out the other end. And we have restrictions, mostly born of lack of knowledge. We don't know what to create, and our Focuses limit us. From what Tahkel said on the matter, the Uninvolved would have no such restrictions. Not if we can give them the ability to act without being detected."

"This goes beyond the ability to project power." You continued, setting the odd crystal down on the console beside you. "We know that the Shiplords have a mastery of the Secrets far greater than our own, than any of the Group of Seven. With these, we could match them. Create computer systems capable of flawlessly operating the Orrery, and protecting our infosphere. And that's only scratching the surface. If we can watch what the Uninvolved do, learn from that process as they cannot directly teach, then-"

"We could level the playing field." Lina said, very quietly. "In a way that they'd never see coming. Forget building more ships to send out after you, if that's even possible. If you can work out how you made that, and teach others," the woman who had led humanity twice to victory against the Shiplords shook her hood. "I'm not sure I can give that sort of advantage a value. I just know I want it."

Nods and murmurs of agreement rustled down the table as Adriana turned, checking for any disagreement. None came. "You," she stopped. "Amanda," she said after a moment, and you felt your heart go out to the younger woman as you realised what was going on in your quasi-protégé's mind. You'd come here expecting the question she was about to ask, and she knew that. But she could also guess what the mission ahead might cost, and there was some part of her, somewhere very deep, that didn't want to. You'd pulled off a miracle to survive twice. Could you do it again?

Maybe you could, maybe you couldn't. But as much as you hated to accept, or even think, it, Tahkel had been clear. The protection around these systems would require a Potential to pass, and there were only so many capable of wielding the scale of Practice necessary to bring a ship through safely. Yet even as those thoughts flowed through your mind, something rejected them. That wasn't the point here. This was a mission to which humanity must dedicate its brightest and best. You were among that number. This was the place where you could do the most good.

And you wouldn't leave a friend struggling with this. "I will, President Thera," you said firmly. You met her gaze steadily, holding it even as you committed yourself to the unknown. "You don't have to ask." You saw her begin to respond, or at least try to, only for a single headshake to her. "You don't. I swore an oath, Adri. This is part of that. If this is where I can best serve a future where humanity will be free, then it is where I must be. I can't run from that. And I don't want to."

The last words came out in a rush of quiet passion, birthing a silence of the same subtle presence, yet you knew that they had been true. That was what mattered, what had always mattered, really. Be true to yourself, to your Focus, to your family. All the good you'd ever done had flowed from that. It was a welcoming and comforted silence, shared by all who held it, but it couldn't last. There was a time for such things, and this was not one of them. Adriana nodded once to you, the motion somehow formal, then turned her attention to Lina and Nathaniel.

"Lina, Nathaniel," she said to two Ministers, "get the Adamant ready to fly. I don't care what it takes, beyond delays to survival critical systems. Leave space for the drive that the Uninvolved will be giving us," she looked back to you. "And give Amanda the choice of specialist systems once you've filled out necessary requirements."

"That's not going to be a long list," Lina pointed out, a fraction of a second faster than her Home Office peer. "The Adamant's not much more than frigate analogue, Adriana. But there will be some space, I can't deny that. And leaving the choice of how to use it up to Amanda would be better than an interdepartmental slapfight, however gentle." Nathaniel chuckled, nodding in agreement, and even the head of the Ministry of Security cracked a smile. It faded quickly though, as Lina's attention latched onto him like a descending predator.

"Jean, you know what I'm going to say," she said, a slight smile pulling at her lips, though there was worry behind it. "I know you won't like it, but Trailblazer was created for exactly this type of situation." Jean grimaced, but he didn't dispute the point.

"And I can already tell which one you're going to ask for," he sighed, but it wasn't an angry one. No matter the paranoia that his job required him to cultivate, he saw the need. You saw Lina gather herself, more arguments. They proved unnecessary.

"You're right, Lina," Jean said, before she could resolve thoughts into another salvo. "She was chosen to command the Yantar for the exact reason that you want her for this mission." He sighed, and for a moment the faintest hint of a smile traced his lips. "I'll have Commander Cynburg transferred. They'll need her."

You remembered the name, from before the Second Battle of Sol. She'd commanded the Ulfberht-class ships of the FSN in that engagement, but you'd lost track of her since stepping down. It seemed you'd discovered why. Jean turned to you. "We'll need to read you and any other command staff you require into Trailblazer, Unison Hawk, but I don't believe that should be a problem.

"I think I can survive the process," you smiled. You'd done so often enough, even after stepping down from the Presidency. "I think I remember all the proper forms, unless protocol has changed since."

"Then I think that's everything," Adriana declared. "You've given us everything we need, Mandy, at least for now. We'll keep communication open as we go forward and prepare for this mission, but for now I need you and all of Arcadia focused on trying to work out how you created that crystal. Anything you need, you come to me. I can't put a price to how important bringing the Uninvolved into the war on even such a limited scale could be."

"And the Uninvolved?" You asked. "It might be better if I'm at least around when Phoebe goes looking for Tahkel, and I was planning on spending a few days on Earth before returning."

"I can oversee project development remotely," Mary added, and you saw your friend's genius already moving behind her eyes. "It'll take a day or two to get everything ready for a crash development cycle, anyway."

"I believe," Adriana's eyes flickered, a motion you recognised now as a person consulting the infosphere. "Yes, there's an open Thoughtcast slot scheduled for two days from now. If you feel your presence might be an aid, I will make sure that you're welcome." She rose from her chair, offering you a gracious nod. "But if that is everything, there's still a lot we need to focus on right now. Some of which remains classified, I'm afraid."

"We understand," you replied, nodding in return. "Will you be asking Iris to stay?"

"Not for these matters," Adriana said. "But you have my thanks, Iris, for overseeing the security apparatus of this chamber. I know you've never done it before."

"It was where I could do the most good," your daughter said. Her hair was still drab, but something sparked behind it, a satisfaction that you recognised as if looking into a mirror. "I am glad to be of service."

***
​

And that, as is sometimes said, was that. You left that place, the domain of the Presidency you'd once held, which no longer weighed upon you. The new purpose which you'd accepted felt just as substantial: the future of humanity would turn upon your decisions in the months to come. Yet you had learnt to live with that as President; you would survive it again. Especially if the prize for so doing proved to be freedom.

Returning to the Residence that had been left to you was a simple matter, and you found the place well lived in despite your absence. Several of your siblings had moved into the Residence permanently after you'd stepped down, and they welcomed you with the joyful tears of any family who had watched its members march off to war. They noticed, too, what your many nieces and nephews did not: the burden upon you despite the respite won. None of them asked directly; they understood the restrictions on you in that regard. But they persisted to be present and supportive in ways you might not truly need, but drank in greedily.

Amelie, Harry, Juno, even Alden for a short while, on leave from his command after the battle. He'd come through intact, just as you had, and shared some of your understanding of what was to come. As a task force leader, he possessed security clearance to match yourself in your role as leader of the Unisonbound. And that meant he understood in a far more tangible way what was coming, and how humanity's survival balanced on the razor's edge of its ingenuity proving effective.

He recognised the deeper nature of your burden, in part that of a soldier's resolution. The terrible understanding that this might be one of the last times you'd ever see your siblings. If you chose poorly out among the stars, there would be no one to come to your aid. That reality only made the choices ahead of you harder to make, but at least you weren't made to wait long. The Adamant's general design was completed swiftly, with a heavy focus given to stealth and evasion systems. You'd not been aware that humanity possessed many of them until being read into the Ministry of Security's Trailblazer Initiative, but once that was done, the steady flow of resources into the Ministry started to make sense.

The Trailblazer Initiative had been started in the years after the Second Battle of Sol, and was a MoS lead task force dedicated to enabling the covert expansion of humanity beyond the solar system. None of what they'd developed was perfect, but it had made strides towards functional active stealth that you'd thought would be flatly impossible. The only problem was that each of those systems required one of a limited number of Harmonials to operate them. Nothing else could hide the tell-tale disruptions of an active Fifth Secret drive from even the simplest sensors, and if you wanted to get anywhere in a reasonable amount of time, you needed one of those.

Then came sensors, mass and fuel buffers, crew quarters, labs. Everything that was deemed necessary for a long-range, covert exploration craft, pulling from Trailblazer Initiative designs scaled down to fit into a vessel the Adamant's size. There wasn't much space left after all of those systems were allocated, but there was enough for several possibilities to exist for what little did remain. How to use it was ultimately your decision, with the design document sent through containing several proposals. Important, perhaps crucial, but at least it would be impersonal. The other choices facing you were not.

Adriana used part of the scheduled Thoughtcast to obtain a better grasp of your mission's parameters, after obtaining confirmation that Tahkel was what they had appeared to be to you. Gestalt transmission was not subtle, but a test group of almost a hundred Insight Focused was the best that Adri could do in terms of confirming it. Tahkel agreed to carry the requests of your race to their fellows, and promised to return with an answer within one of your weeks. Their phrasing had been very specific in setting that timescale in your units. Sadly, though, there was little they could offer more than the coordinates of the systems sealed from them. There were many theories within the Uninvolved community about what might be hidden within those places, but no certainty. But if Tahkel and the Uninvolved were right in their most basic suspicion, that the systems contained ancient truths, some needs became apparent.

You would need to enter those systems without disrupting their primary defence and defeat or bypass whatever security systems existed within. Then you would have to acquire whatever information had been hidden there for countless millennia. If you'd even be able to make sense of it was a concern that bore heavily. Even Potentials had their limits, and there was a limit to how many you could take with you. Lina was confident in her ability to defeat the Shiplords again and you trusted her with that. Humanity's fleet was only continuing to grow, and though losses might be heavy, you trusted her assessment.

But the people on the list you'd been given were, for the most part, people you knew. Friends, colleagues, family. At some point, you had to trust the new generations following in your footsteps. Given the delicacy of this mission, experience would matter. But could you afford to take that experience away from Sol? It would be a futile trade to succeed in your mission, only to return to a devastated solar system.

This will be a Plan vote. Any votes made not in that format will be ignored. Please see this post for a more risk/rewards based outline of the available options.

Pick three (3) systems to have installed on the Adamant.
[] Expanded Laboratory Complex [Pick 1 per selection: Archaeology, The Secrets, Xenolinguistics]: One of the laboratory sections on the Adamant is extended to make space for larger and more advanced tools of study. This system will grant a bonus to all rolls made within that field, and allow associated research teams to reroll one failure per phase.
[] Lagless Computing Matrix: Expands the Lagless processing unit aboard ship into a full mainframe, greatly increasing the resources available to the vessel for analysis and providing a larger enough network space for limited predictive routines. Will grant a bonus to all network based actions and a chance to reroll failures where predictive routines could apply.
[] Advanced Cyberwarfare Suite: Uses Practiced components to upgrade the Adamant's electronic warfare capabilities to that of an FSN dreadnought. Opens full electronic warfare options, and provides a significant bonus to those rolls. Requires Lagless Computing Matrix.
[] Focusing Choir: Constructs the necessary facilities to accommodate the needs of a small Potential working group. Allows for the selection of the Potential Working Group in the Crew phase.
[] Trailblazer Nanoforge: Dedicates capacity to providing the Adamant with a full Trailblazer nanoforge and mass storage. This larger system will eliminate the need for a Potential to be involved in maintenance on non-Practiced components, and allow the vessel to construct hidden outposts on worlds of interest without stressing its mass or production limits.
[] Upgraded Defensive Systems: Installs active defence systems, significantly increasing the chance for the Adamant to evade Shiplord capture if the vessel is detected. Will also provide the vessel with the ability to meaningfully contribute to engagements with physical security systems.

Due to her expertise on the matter, Amanda has been given primary decision-making for which Potentials to request for this mission. Positions available are as follows:

Harmonic: The Harmonial required to operate the stealth systems of the Adamant, and allow the ship to move safely within Shiplord star systems without detection. Will be able to leave the ship only after it has been placed in a safe orbit. Pick one.
[] Vega Cant (H): A peerless Harmonial, and the second Potential to learn how to weave Practice into words, the Proven Miracle is a match to Amanda herself in her mastery of her Focus. A member of the Two Twenty Three, and Amanda's Heartcircle. She will provide superlative stealth and all the benefits of a highly experienced Unisonbound. Vega held the heart of the web that secured the FSN from Shiplord disruption in the last two battles of Sol. Replacements do exist, but they have not been tested in fire.
[] Gennadiy Aleksov: One of Vega's first apprentices, Gena and his colleague Ellen were focal individuals for the Miracle that restored and upgraded humanity's orbitals before the Second Battle of Sol. He is a skilled Harmonial, with experience in accessing the grander web of humanity in times of need. One of three Harmonials directly overseeing Vega's efforts during the Third Battle of Sol. The most likely candidate to take her place in the Fourth.
[] A Notable Specialist: One of the Trailblazer candidates.
[] Write-in: Must be a Harmonial.

Seeker: An Insight Focused that works with the Harmonic to navigate active detection systems and ensure that the Adamant will remain undetected. Seekers have not been needed in active Trailblazer operations, but for a mission such as this, the proper candidate could prove invaluable. Operates under the same limitations as the Harmonic. Pick one.
[] Veda: The woman who brought forth the First Miracle, Veda wields a powerful Focus of Truth, and is deeply possessed of that Focus. She would be highly valuable as an analyst when not in use as a Seeker, and is perhaps one of the most skilled Insight Focused alive.
[] Elil Acharya (S): One of Amanda's Heartcircle, and a Unisonbound of quite some skill, even if he is often overlooked when compared to the more obvious members of the group. Elil is a highly experienced Insight Focused, with years of combat training, and would be a worthy Seeker. Fought in the First and Second Battles of Sol, and would synergise extremely well with Vega Cant.
[] A Notable Specialist: One of the Trailblazer candidates.
[] Write-in: Must be an Insight Focused.

Working Group: Potential Working Groups are, as the name implies, small groups of Potentials who have learnt to merge their shared abilities in pursuit of a singular purpose. A Working Group of Harmonials formed the heart of the Restoration of Mytikas, that returned the once devastated Mars to humanity. Project Insight, the greatest intelligence gathering tool in human history, began as one. Removing one of these groups from humanity could leave a significant hole in its defences, but would bring with it equally significant rewards. You may only select a working group from this list only if the Focusing Choir system option has been selected.
[] Harmonic Accord: One of the Harmonial groups formed since the possibility became apparent. Harmonic Accords possess the ability to harmonise the actions of Potentials into Miracle with a certainty that not even the Proven Miracle has been able to match. One of these groups tore a score of cities back into reality, almost seventy years after they were reduced to ash by the Burning. Given what you seek, there could be great value in this ability, though it's not exactly subtle. Would allow the Adamant to maintain an active drive field even if the Harmonic was not aboard.
[] Insight Circle: How Project Insight began. Many groups similar in purpose, if not in range, still exist, and their ability to produce total results from only scraps is all but unsurpassed. There are precious few things that humanity has encountered that Insight Focused have not been able to decipher, given time. Would allow the Adamant to maintain stealth against active detection systems even if the Seeker was not aboard.
[] Speaking Chorus: Similar in nature to a Harmonic Accord, a Chorus creates its own harmonies to work upon the world around them. With a skilled Speaker at its heart, a Chorus is capable of working wonders that defy comprehension. Speaking is rarely subtle, but it is undeniably effective. Will open more extensive and effective Speaking options.

Specialist Candidates: Potentials who could prove valuable in numerous scenarios beyond the specific roles required by the Adamant's stealth systems. Due to limited crew space, you may only select up to four (4) candidates from this pool.
[] Alvar Gudrun: A member of the Third Awakening, Alvar Awoke to a Focus of Attachment, and has taken up that strength tirelessly in the defence of humanity. One of the first properly trained Speakers, and indeed one of the reasons for Amanda's first attempt at teaching proving successful. Alvar can create connections between physical objects, people, or even concepts in ways that no Harmonial can match, and this versatility is his greatest strength.
[] Elil Acharya: One of Amanda's Heartcircle, and a Unisonbound of quite some skill, even if he is often overlooked when compared to the more obvious members of the group. Elil is a highly experienced Insight Focused, with years of combat training. Fought in the First and Second Battles of Sol.
[] Kalilah Mishra: Perhaps the most singularly dangerous person in all humanity, it was Kalilah who came within a hairsbreadth of self-sacrifice to wipe the Shiplord Regular Fleet from humanity's home during the Third Battle of Sol. A First Awoken of Destruction, Kalilah is a soldier grown into the full measure of her strength, and has had more than half a century to temper her edge. Amanda's bodyguard for more than a decade, as well as a Unisonbound and member of her Heartcircle.
[] Lea Halwood: Another member of Amanda's Heartcircle, Lea woke to a Focus of Mending that lies somewhat at odds to most Menders. Where they seek to heal, Lea's Focus is one dedicated to taking what was and making something new. Provides a valuable counterpoint to Amanda's Focus, and significant skill as a Mender in her own right. Fought in the First and Second Battles of Sol.
[] Marcus Romero: One of Amanda's Cabinet during her Presidency, Marcus was one of a handful of Potentials who had found a way to turn their Focus back upon themselves, turning himself into a living Gateway that has yet to meet a barrier he cannot defeat. Marcus was responsible for the destruction of the Shiplord Subnet that almost killed you, and has manned the wall of humanity's infosphere ever since. In so doing, he has proven himself a match to any AI.
[] Mir Hayes: The last member of Amanda's Heartcircle, Mir did not fight in the Second Battle of Sol, joining the Two Twenty Three after that conflict. A Speaker and wielder of Peace, it was his words together with Vega's that contained Kalilah's outburst during the Third Battle of Sol. More than capable of applying his focus directly, Mir has more than proven himself in battle.
[] Veda: The woman who brought forth the First Miracle, Veda wields a powerful Focus of Truth, and is deeply possessed of that Focus. She would be highly valuable as an analyst when not in use as a Seeker, and is perhaps one of the most skilled Insight Focused alive.
[] Vega Cant: A peerless Harmonial, and the second Potential to learn how to weave Practice into words, the Proven Miracle is a match to Amanda herself in her mastery of her Focus. A member of the Two Twenty Three, and Amanda's Heartcircle. She will provide superlative stealth and all the benefits of a highly experienced Unisonbound. Vega held the heart of the web that secured the FSN from Shiplord disruption in the last two battles of Sol. Replacements do exist, but they have not been tested in fire.
[] Write-in?

To repeat, this will be a Plan based vote. If you wish to construct a vote, do so in the following format:

[X] Plan Miracle Rainbow
-[X] System 1
-[X] System 2
-[X] System 3
-[X] Harmonic
-[X] Seeker
-[X] Working Group (if allowed)
-[X] Specialist 1
-[X] Specialist 2
-[X] Specialist 3
-[X] Specialist 4

There will be a 12 hour moratorium on this vote.​

 

[Snowfire]

July 2nd​ 2130

"That should be the last connection, Mary," you said, sliding the panel back into place as your friend ran the diagnostic set on her end. Yours were already done. "Sidra has a clear signal."

"That should have done it," Mary paused, consulting her diagnostics. "You got it. All sensor connections stable. We're ready."

"I'll get back to the observer position," you replied, sealing the panel fully and checking the time. The timer was getting rather low. "It's almost time."

"Go. No doubt they'll help in the future, but all these sensors are just window dressing. We need one of you to get something from what Tahkel is about to do," Mary hadn't liked it, but she'd not been able to argue with the conclusion that Arcadia had come to in the last few weeks. Humanity wasn't expecting to learn how to replicate anything today. But, if you were lucky, the event you were about to witness would teach the Potentials watching enough to duplicate your work.

You tried not to worry about that as you sped down corridors towards the observation gallery. Right now, they were all lacking the specific context that you'd found that night half a lifetime ago. Some of you were close, you among them, but close wasn't enough. And if this didn't give you what you needed, you weren't sure what would except time. Humanity could survive that, but you would lose so much less if you could bring the Uninvolved into the matter. And a success here would help far more than just humanity. First, though? You had to succeed.

The doors to the gallery folded away as you approached, revealing the wide space beyond that had been built into the research station. The scientist in you would have preferred for this to have taken place back on Mars, within the carefully controlled research environs of Arcadia. But what you were about to witness was a Practice-type event undertaken by an entity far greater than any Potential. And one who was distinctly not human. Looked at that way, doing this at considerable remove to any population centres made a lot of sense.

Creating a new research environment was just a matter of applying the proper resources and Adriana had been very clear in her directives on this matter. Whatever you'd needed, you got. This research wasn't the top strategic priority for humanity right now; that was survival. But it was very, very close to the top. Even if this facility might only be able to be used once, it would be worth it if you could glean even some understanding from the process. And Tahkel hadn't objected to your caution. Although that didn't mean that everything had been perfect; your last-minute departure to stabilise sensor connections wouldn't have been needed were that the case.

You'd never interacted with the Potentials who called themselves Makers much. You'd relied on the group a great deal during your time as President, but there'd never been time to get to know them. Which meant that most of the Potentials in the room with you today were relative strangers. And you'd not seen the few you knew in years.

"Do we need to start evacuating?" Castin Bell was one name you had recognised, however. A fellow child of the Second Awakening, the sandy-haired man had Awoken to a very similar Focus. You'd met decades ago, during one of countless restorations of the cities of the pre-Sorrows world; much of the inspiration for your multitool had come from his example. It felt like it should be odd, to recall events fifty years past with no immediately visible signs of aging on either party. But that was the world you lived in, and you were glad for it.

"No, Castin," you replied, and if there was chastisement in your tone, it was belied by the smile on your face. "There was a glitch in the link to our observers. The only reason I was asked to do it is because I can move faster than anyone else here."

"That's certainly true," Castin chuckled. "I hope we can rely on you to carry us out if this all goes wrong, then? I'm not sure that these old bones could get to the escape pods in time." You shot him a withering look, to absolutely no effect. You'd not expected that reaction to have changed, but it had been worth a try.

"I'll be sure to pick you up last," you replied solemnly. "It wouldn't do to put those bones under undue stress." Then your smile faded, as you turned to face the object of the deck's attention.

The crystal had been placed more than a kilometre from the station's inner hull, isolated and contained by the structure. A dozen shield layers hovered invisibly in the space between, and an outer screen had been placed around the station as well. And, of course, you were there. That would help a great deal in the event of a catastrophic failure.

The timer projected at the corner of your vision by Sidra was mirrored at the bottom of the viewscreen in front of you, and as you watched, the timer ticked past two minutes remaining. The communication with Tahkel had been very clear in giving timings, though helped by the reality that the Uninvolved could observe your systems in a way that only Insight could really understand. Countermeasure development had kicked into high gear since that realisation, though you were pretty sure you hadn't been meant to know that.

Phoebe had given the Uninvolved a time; the Void Crystal itself was an obvious place. Now all you had to do was watch. Looking around, you saw the other Potentials begin to slip into their own variants of concentration, reaching into themselves to realise the power of their Foci as everyone in the room had done thousands of times before. This time was different, though. The event that you were about to witness was something that hadn't happened in hundreds of millennia. And you were all of you hoping that it would give you, any of you, the ability to understand how you'd created the object that would make it possible.

Arcadia Unleashed: 78 + 26 + 37 + 55 + 26 (Learning) + 35 (Mary) + 15 (Daughter of Secrets) + 10 (Olympus Archives) + 21 (MoSci) + 42 (MoW) + 24 (MoPr) + 50 (Grounding) = 419/200/300/500/???

Arcadia had done its best in the time available, but even with every team dedicated to the matter, there was only so much they could do. But you did have a much better idea of what you thought the Void Crystal was, now. The major theory right now was that acting on realspace from wherever the Uninvolved actually lived caused a fracture in the fabric of space-time, which the Shiplords had learnt to track. There'd been some thought of it being further support for the mechanistic oversight philosophy of explaining the Secrets, but if that had been the case, why hadn't human Potentials been detected?

The Void Crystal somehow smoothed away the results of this fracture. If it did so by preventing the fracture from happening by acting as a connection of its own, reduced the ripple-effect of the fracture if there was one, or simply made it easier to connect, no one was sure. You were moving down the right path, certainly, but there was just too far left to go. You needed to understand how to build these things, not just what they might be. Arcadia would get there eventually, but you didn't have "eventually". Which was why you were here, waiting as the timer ticked down, and hoping that one of you would be able find truth amidst whatever was about to happen.

:Sixty seconds,: Sidra noted, their mental voice as calm and steady as ever. Subtle power bloomed at the edge of your perceptions, out in the shielded space where the crystal lay. Tahkel was here, you could feel it. You reached one hand across, laying it on the bracer that contained the Mender's Eye. It was still an artefact of Mending, and so not as suited to this as Insight would be. But Insight could be dangerous here, if what was to come lay too close to the Secrets. Only one way to find out, you thought to yourself. Then you took a breath…

…and let go.

The world sharpened imperceptibly, once, then twice, the instants blurring together until the world you could see with your eyes was simply gone. Lines of light traced your vision, the webwork of humanity's creation, but it wasn't your focus. Out beyond the walls of the observation deck, at the heart of the station, something stirred. The eternally featureless shape of the crystal you'd created pulsed to a beat of lambent fire, building steadily as the seconds ticked down. Reality twisted around the tiny point in space, an endless path of gathering light falling up and down and away and so many directions for which there were no words.

There'd been a theory that it might work like this, acting as a link up towards what Insight called the Void, and what Arcadia had come to call soul-space. The rules were different there, you knew already from how Insight could gather information across such huge distances. But interacting between those two places had a cost. The larger the entity, the greater the cost. And with that cost came disruption. Potentials were largely immune to it, though it did explain the odd readings that had been recorded during intense Practice usage. But Potentials, no matter how powerful, were small.

Your grandest actions had barely touched upon the power of an Uninvolved, and for all that strength, they lacked the ability to move subtly. And therein lay their weakness. To act beyond the bounds of their home, without aid, would invariably alert the Shiplords to their interference. And it was now very, very clear why the Shiplords had built weapons capable of attacking the soul. They were the weapon behind the fear which had kept the Uninvolved from acting. Especially when they had no way to talk to anyone but each other. But now…now they could.

You felt Sidra's presence around you, anchoring your thoughts and senses in the webwork world that only a handful of Potentials could properly access. The light of a newborn star blazed at the heart of the crystal in that world, and still it sucked in light, and not just light. It was like a rope, or a ladder, reaching out into nothingness between the walls that separated what you knew to be reality from those beyond. And as you watched, the faintest shadow of a being that had been young when humans first mastered fire reached down that ladder of glimmering starlight.

You were never able to describe what you saw in that moment. You could draw it, put numbers to the energy outputs, but those didn't describe the image. It was like trying to explain what a Focus was to someone who wasn't a Potential. There just weren't the words. Human language couldn't give it context. But that image wasn't everything, and it wasn't what you'd been sent here to try and understand, either. You reached out, every sense keen, piercing the light and impossible shapes to let its power flow over you.

Your body blew away, fading into an ephemeral mist of shimmering light. Something tugged on your mind, a familiar feeling, yet one you just couldn't place as your mind failed you. This was too much, too vast a change for it. But not for your soul. Green-gold fire crackled to life, shining through the form of mist you'd become. Sidra's colours were there too, you knew, woven between your own. Yet none of it mattered, as still you reached forward. Beyond the station, beyond the shields and the space within. Deep and down and through, into your oldest and last self-made mystery.

Pierce The Void: 100 + 82 + 36 (Practice) + 20 (Mender's Eye) + 50 (Shapes in the Void) = 288 Natural Critical reroll: 82! Critical Success!

And you saw.

You watched Tahkel reach into the world through the shard of a world at once part of and entirely separate to your own. Watched them stretch out delicate fingers of power that could have brushed aside the station around you with the gentlest of touches, if they had wished to. And you watched, watched, watched, as the world around the crystal warped, and started to come apart.

Matter poured into the space left behind, wrapped in a prismatic veil that you knew well from Miracles. Poured in, and formed something new, technology born of knowledge older than your species. The drive that would make this entire endeavour, mad as it may be, possible. You saw the shapes, the items perfected by an edge as sharp as your own soul. Maybe, if your focus had been there, you could have gleaned enough to replicate it, one day. But it wasn't and, in the end, that was as it should be.

Reality pressed against the ladder that had risen from the crystal, weighing heavily on its walls as if seeking to crush it. Without that, the Uninvolved would have been forced to expend energy of its own, to keep the way open. And that would have created waves of disruption, the residue that the Shiplords could detect. That would bring the Shiplords down upon you all with a fury unlike any mortal eyes had seen. Yet they found no purchase.

A creation born of two worlds, Tahkel had said. Maybe so. But it was so much more than that, too. Connecting, you peered closer, was merely a case of opening a way. Yet the ladder had come from the crystal itself, not the other way around. And no matter what the world around you wished to do, the reaction simply wasn't there. To your Focus, it soothed away the jaggedness of the wound pierced between dimensions, leaving nothing but a perfect shape that did not fight. Only held.

Could you build another one? Maybe. But there were errors in the design you'd made before, flaws you hadn't, couldn't have, seen in the depths of a Trance. Sidra moved in the depths of your thoughts, carefully gathering the concepts and possibilities into something you could use. A wave of deep gratitude swept out to the Unison Intelligence who had chosen you, and you felt the reply a moment later.

:Thanks are for later, Amanda.: They said, gently setting the feelings aside for now. It was almost mothering. :Are you sure you want to do this?:

:I can.: You replied. :But that's not what you asked.:

:No,: Sidra agreed. :Are you sure you want to do this right now?: It was a complicated question. Acting now, in the moment of insight, could create exactly what humanity was looking for. But would it give them the understanding to build new ones? You'd leapt beyond the ability of human science to follow before, many Potentials had, but before now it had been accidents. This?

:If I don't,: you sent, :I could lose this moment. This understanding. Even with your record, I might not be able to bring it back, and we're in too deep to try and talk to anyone else.:

:It will make you more of what you wished to never become,: your Unison sighed. :But you knew that.:

:I did.: You looked down, finding no hands, only the oddly solid mist that you'd become. It glittered in the colours of your soul, itching to be let free. :But in this, I don't think it matters. Humanity needs these. The only thing holding me back is that I don't know if creating them again will help me show others.:

:There are a dozen Makers here, all of them far more skilled in that.: There was no bite to the chastisement. :They learn by example.:

:That's true.: But could you risk it?

The world around you rippled, tiny fragments of connection and possibility sowing the absent air beyond the fluxing power that was Tahkel's creation. Seeds of what could be, of Artefacts that could change the balance of power in the galaxy. You'd been sent here to understand, and that you had. But could you risk losing that understanding, now that you had it, and with nothing to show for it?

[] Insight Over All – You were never a Maker; let those who have spent their lifetimes chart the way. You will not lose this moment.
[] Creation Is Precious – You cannot waste this. Humanity, and more, could live or die on the ability of the Uninvolved to aid you. Take this chance.

A Note: You may not attempt to contact anyone for advice whilst making this decision. Any write-ins attempting to do so shall be denied.