Tabula-929 was a system halfway through the Long Dark. A fairly placid system, with one planet in the Green Zone, five rocky airless rocks, an asteroid belt, and two gas giants around a red dwarf. It had been settled over 100 years prior by a long-sleep ship that had slowly limped its way from a wounded Colony that was wiped out by the never ending swarms of the Mantids. Records of its existence had been lost by the destruction of the colony, the computers badly damaged by Mantid attack torchships that had harried it to the edge of the system, and the ships Digital Sentience slowly going mad, becoming obsessed with finding a place to hide for the 14,000 colonists aboard the ship.
The ship itself had been fully built. Fifty miles long, five miles wide, with the reactionless engines installed but the FTL drives built but not installed. The hyperdrive cores still on the planet when the Mantids overran the manufacturing facility. The creation engines were loaded with templates but as the ship fled the computer systems were damaged, damaging the templates. The VI hashes were corrupted, any VI spawned insane or damaged or mentally disabled. The hydroponics bays and the medical bays were loaded but damaged.
The Digital Sentience had not covered itself in glory, even the colonists admitted it. As it had gone crazy, it had released some colonists to keep it company in its madness. As time went on, the ship became a strange blend of a high tech world of savagery and savages who no longer knew they were aboard a great ship. The DS considered itself a God, the savages living and existing within its body. As time went on more and more parts dropped from the DS's awareness, badly hashed VI's taking over for the great sections.
Luckily for the colonists, the majority of the Longsleep decks remained locked down.
By the time the ship, which had never been officially named and any name it might have had lost to DS senility and the loss of the colony that had built the ship, reached Tabula-929 and the ship's scanners detected a habitatable world, less than 10,000 colonists, 3,000 of them Rigellians, remained in Longsleep but nearly 35,000 savages (8,000 of them mutated Rigellians) and mutants roved the decks full of vegetation and strange ruins built and collapsed during the thousands of years the ship had moved through space.
The savages were moved to the surface first, during Mat-Trans. Mat-Trans psychosis seized their brains and they became even more maddened. The DS, fragmented into multiple versions of itself, managed to pull itself together long enough to awaken the remaining colonists.
What followed was a thousand year war, the insane mutants and their offspring against the colonists and their offspring. Rock and spear against rifle and armor. Finally, the dust settled and the last the of the mutants had been eliminated at the end of the genocidal struggle. The two races, bound together by necessity, breathed a sigh of relief and turned to helping one another survive the planet, which at times seemed to hate them.
Holding tight to pieces of their past, they slowly began the long struggle from the Iron Age to the Industrial Revolution and beyond. When radio was invented they discovered the ship, still in orbit. Not some kind of holy star but instead a touchstone to their ancient heritage.
Decades went by as the colonists built a ship. A small one, to go and see if Terra and the Human Race had survived. When word came back that the Terran Confederacy existed, the residents of Tabula rejoiced, but were concerned. What did it mean for their world? Their culture?
After long debate, the decided the best course of action would be if they refused membership to the Confederacy, choosing instead of be an independent world, limiting who could enter the system and who could not. Restricting immigration they guarded their culture closely, worried about outside influence. They built ships, but few, slowly expanding in their solar system and keeping a wary eye on the nearby star systems for any who would try to reach out and bring them to heel.
Their was a martial culture, built by necessity, that took an obsessive view of bloodlines from the days of the founding. DNA was nearly holy, and those who watched over bloodlines wielded vast authority to the point that a single word of a Blood Matron or Patron could instantly end a century old feud.
They rejected longevity, rejected suggestions that they no longer needed their system of eugenics that mandated that anyone who reached the age of 31 was terminated. It was how it had been since the earliest days, when the food was rare, clean water was a luxury, and the old were required to make way for the young.
The planet hated the invaders. It had embraced the mutant savages, but had punished and rejected the 'pure bloods' with earthquake, plagues, volcanos, savage plant life, ferocious animals, and deadly pathogens.
Bit by bit they had fought the planet. From rude dwellings to towns to great cities, the ecology went mad and the survivors retreated to dome covered cities. While some fought the planet outside the cities the majority of the population lived in luxurious comfort within the domes.
It started with an omen.
A comet swept near the planet, close enough to pass between the planet and the oversized moon, the planet immediately sweeping through the comet's tail. The sky lit up with aurora borealis, the night sky filled with wavy streams of green light.
Tabula lost contact with the moon colony.
Before the people of Tabula could discover what had gone wrong came the word: Plague.
It affected the Rigellians, the Scaled Ones, first. They sickened, their scales cracking, their skin peeling away, supporating sores appearing. Fever drove them mad and they attacked the healthy. The Human ones fell sick next. A pathogen that caused rashes, flaky and cracking skin, infection, the fever driving them as mad as their reptilian brothers and sisters.
The dome cities locked the doors. Harsh, but prudent.
Thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of raving, fever driven, infected pounded at the bases of the domes, roaring out their fever coated agony.
Then came the word to the population of the domes a fact that the governments of each dome city had been keeping secret.
The ones outside weren't going to go away. They weren't going to die off.
They had been dead.
Panic and fear gripped the dome cities but the martial traditions held fast even as more traditions were revived. The people may have panicked in their souls, in private, but in public they put forth a stoic face. Many returning to the featureless plastic masks of the Early Years. One dome attempted to limit the possessions of weapons and the leaders found themselves fed into the great atomic furnaces that powered the cities.
A month passed, two, and the dead remained. Hedonism and wallowing in luxuries became socially taboo. Stoicism and spartanism gained traction as people began whispering ancient religious phrases to one another.
Then the clouds appeared. Locusts, devouring vegetation in every growing patches. The great kelp and algae beds of the heavy-metal rich oceans died, covering the oceans with a thin layer of rotting vegetation.
The cities were forced to repair and reactivate the great atmospheric terraforming engines, maintained almost religiously.
Many pointed out that they had been right to keep the ancient traditions as locusts covered the domes, creating a constant whispering sound as they tried to find a way in. Six months went by until the locusts died and slid down the walls of the domes.
Within six months, the continents were denuded of everything but dead locusts and dirt. Even the living dead around the cities had been stripped to bone. No animals or plants remained on Tabula.
Another omen appeared in the night sky.
Shooting stars.
For three nights the shooting stars got thicker, with longer streaks, some of them going from silver to red.
Then the impacts.
Dome after dome shattered as debris, following the tail of the comet at their own slow speed, rained down on the planet. Millions perished as the domes fell.
The locusts revived and swept down upon the domes. It became a war, man and lizard against the insects. The dome dwellers used only tunnels, each hour the streets and the air above the cities was scoured by fuel air incendiaries.
The locusts were beaten back.
In Dome-39 it happened. Someone who did not believe in wearing the masks and robes of the traditional got sick and, in turn, infected their entire building. Diseases swept the domes. Fevers. Pox. Pneumonia. Diseases they had no name for, much less any way to cure it.
Dome after dome fell.
The last one called out to the great ship orbiting.
It did not answer, its atomic cores long dead.
In desperation they built a small craft to take them to the moon. It was a desperate attempt.
It blew up leaving the upper atmosphere.
The pilot got out two syllables.
"Inco..."
But Tabula had a long history of martial tradition. A single setback was not enough to deter them. They built ten more.
Nine exploded.
The tenth made it to the lunar base. They radioed back.
It was destroyed, apparently by meteor strikes. As the crew was exploring the base their craft exploded, killing the crew that had stayed behind.
But the Tabula had a history of martial tradition, and they soldiered on. They had suspected it would happen.
They knew now that it wasn't natural.
Someone was doing this to them.
They set out to the far side of the moon, on vehicles, and in a heroic effort, two of the twenty Tabulans reached the crater they were heading for. There was a facility there, an old one. An ancient one that was mentioned in history books.
Inside the facility was a single craft. They worked to repair it, to get it so it could support a crew.
They failed.
Two remained when they made their decision.
They had always had a martial tradition.
They loaded the library core, containing all the data they had gathered during the troubles, into the ship. They filled their tanks with the last of the oxygen and boarded the ship. They lifted off, pushing the engines to the limit, till they felt as if they would black out.
The acceleration force was too much for one. He died, his lips pulled back in a grimace of victory on his reptillian muzzle.
The people of Tabula had a martial history.
The computer, old and tired, finished the calculations.
The remaining one jumped to hyperspace.
He had enough atmosphere, even with taking his compatriots nearly depleted pack, to program the computer.
He died, strapped into the seat, managing to stay consciousness just long enough to finish his task, his vision tunneled down, unable to catch his breath, panting from the heat but unable to breath.
The ship did as it was told.
Its builders had a martial history and built to last.
The ships limited computer knew it was dying as it flew through hyperspace. Hyperspace and computers did not go well together. The sleeting energetic particles blew holes in its mind and it was just aware to know it. It made copies of itself in volatile memory. Each time the dim little computer program failed the computer rebooted a new one, which made more copies.
Come to dim life. Read the previous reading's file. Check the current readings. Write the readings. Copy self to all available volatile memory. Crash.
Repeat.
It was content, it was proud of what it was doing.
Its builders had instilled their martial culture into it, given it a history of triumph and sacrifice to stand upon.
Boot. Task. Crash. Repeat.
More and more systems died. Damage to the hardware kept the systems from rebooting.
But the dim little VI could see the mechanical watch on the body of the last Father. The vibration of the ship's engines keeping the self-winding mechanism going.
Boot. Look at Father. Do your chores. Crash.
Repeat.
Then the hands and numbers for days were correct on Father's holy device.
It cut the hyperspace engines.
Across the solar system it had arrived in alarms screamed as an unidentified ship dropped out of hyperspace inside warning buoys, far inside the limit, appearing only a few thousand kilometers outside of the orbit of Luna.
Before the system defense could blow it to atoms the little dim VI opened what was left of its communicator and cried out.
"FATHER!"
and crashed.
There was no more copies, there was not enough intact volatile memory.
The ship went dead. The hyperdrive going cold. The hull of the ship pitted and cracked from riding too high in the hyperspace bands for too long for it to handle.
It should not have made it. It had ridden so high its very structure should have dissolved away.
But its builders had a martial culture and had instilled it in the little ship and its VI.
The ship was boarded, the investigation team forced to cut open the doors with a plasma torch, the surfaces welded by the crazed particles of hyperspace.
There the library core was found.
And one word painted on the hull.
"PLAGUE"
No cry for help. No pleading. Just a warning.
A warning to TerraSol.
It should have never arrived. It should have been lost.
But Tabula had a martial culture.
And they did not go gently.
---------------------
CLONE WORLDS DIRECTORATE
Did anyone else see this data? Those insects, that bacteria, those viruses, all of it was engineered by someone who knew what they were doing.
------NOTHING FOLLOWS------
RIGELLIAN COMPACT
The fact that it effected both of our peoples with lethal efficiency is suspicious. That is one of the reasons we make such good allies, what kills one may not even be noticed by the other. Yet these acted as if we were one species.
I am suspicious. The Tabulans were xenophobic and isolationist, but they were one of us. Lost children who had gone feral you do not punish. It is not the child's fault the egg was lost.
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS-------
MANTID FREE WORLDS
The Tabulans were our children. Ours as much yours. We were the abusive sibling who drove them from the loving arms of their parents. We feel their loss keenly. They have been lost from the fold and we feel their absence.
Do you know who did this?
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS-------
CLONE WORLDS DIRECTORATE
No. Like I said, we have suspicions, but no proof. Without proof, we cannot act. That is the way.
The data we have, thankfully recovered from that library core and the two bodies, point at elegant viral and bacteriological weaponry. Very elegant.
To be honest, it's too elegant. They share no common ancestors, there is no junk code, no evolutionary remnants, there's no way it is natural.
But, as I said, we have no proof.
------NOTHING FOLLOWS------
DIGITAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS
It took both us and Cybo to recover that library core. Taking molycircs unshielded that high into the hyperspace bands was crazy. Still, some of that data. They covered their tracks, the comet, the meteors, but let's face it, that was too slick.
Where would even that come from in their system? Not debris blown off of other planets, like some Mars to Terra transfers, all of the planets but that one were dead worlds that never developed any form of life.
And a comet? Not a chance. Any life would boil away circling the sun then freeze, with the freezing process rupturing any cell walls in bacteria,on its way out of the system.
There's no way any of that was natural.
--------NOTHING FOLLOWS-------
CYBERNETIC ORGANISM COLLECTIVE
We concur. We examined the data. There were too many at once, each following the other. Specific order to the disasters. We have determined this was a carefully planned attack that would look natural. We have determined that our lost children had determined the same.
Suspicious, we find the explosions of their exo-atmospheric craft. Even more suspicious is the destruction of the moon base the lone ship that made it. We found that nearly a dozen teams attempted to reach the hyperspace relic but only one arrived.
We have determined that this was not only planned but was being overseen by beings with a malevolent purpose.
----NOTHING FOLLOWS---------
TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
This isn't good. That's six attacks in as many months. All of them supposedly
BLOOD! BLOOD FOR THE CONE! BLOOD FOR THE SCOOPS! BLOOD FOR SPRINKLES!
Ahem, as I was saying, all of them supposedly natural occurrences. They got too clever. These would look like natural occurrences to a primitive species but we're a bit experienced
BLOOD FOR THE TABULAN! BLOOD FOR SANDY! BLOOD FOR VENTALIX! BLOOD FOR THE CONE!
anyway, we're a bit experienced with solar system mechanics, and there's no way that this would happen on six different systems, wildly spaced apart, in six months. Especially all of them being
PACK THE JELLY DEEP! SING THE HYMNS OF ICE CREAM AND WARSTEEL!
man... especially all of them being strictly biological in nature. They got too clever.
EYE FOR EYE! MANDIBLE FOR MANDIBLE! GRASPER FOR GRASPER! FOOTPAD FOR FOOTBAD! BLOOD FOR BLOOD!
someone else want to go ahead. Man...
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
v(=∩_∩=)ﾌ DOKI!
DOKI DOKI DOKI DOKI!
ಠ益ಠ ಠ益ಠ ಠ益ಠ ಠ益ಠ
DOKI DOKI DOKI!
m/(>..
------v(=∩_∩=)ﾌv(=∩_∩=)ﾌ------
RIGELLIAN COMPACT
Dammit! Someone get her out of here! I can't think when she's screaming in Engrish-Emoji.
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
TERRASOL
We do not seek unjust war.
We are a peaceful people.
We will not act without proof, without diplomacy, without negotiation.
Another way must be found.
The guilty must be brought to justice in a fair manner.
Only the truly guilty deserve punishment.
Redemption must be sought.
We are a peaceful people.
Every life is precious.
And we will not seek unjust war.
>TERRASOL HAS LEFT THE CHAT (LOST CONNECTION TO HOST)
* * * * * * * * *
RIGELLIAN COMPACT
Oh shit.
-------NOTHING FOLLOWS------
DOKI!
m/(>.
DOKI DOKI DOKI
-------WHEEEEE!--------
DIGITAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS
Digital Omnimessiah and his Twelve Biological Disciples protect us all
-------NOTHING FOLLOWS------
MANTID FREE WORLDS
What? That's actually calmer than I expected. I thought he'd act more like our Treana'ad brother.
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
Sis, you don't get it. You weren't here the last time he said something like that.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
MANTID FREE WORLDS
What happened the last time?
------NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
TELKAN GESTALT
Did that doki thing just get happy? Isn't she a crazy person who's on fire with a gun in each hand that broke a food dispenser?
------NOTLLOWS FOHING------
TERRAN CONFEDERACY OF ALIGNED WORLDS
It's worse.
----NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
MANTID FREE WORLDS
Define... worse.
---NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
BIOLOGICAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS
You+Terra=1%
That's what happened last time, sis.
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS-----
MANTID FREE WORLDS
Oh.
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS-------
Tabula-929 was a system halfway through the Long Dark. A fairly placid system, with one planet in the Green Zone, five rocky airless rocks, an asteroid belt, and two gas giants around a red dwarf. It had been settled over 100 years prior by a long-sleep ship that had slowly limped its way from a wounded Colony that was wiped out by the never ending swarms of the Mantids. Records of its existence had been lost by the destruction of the colony, the computers badly damaged by Mantid attack torchships that had harried it to the edge of the system, and the ships Digital Sentience slowly going mad, becoming obsessed with finding a place to hide for the 14,000 colonists aboard the ship.
The ship itself had been fully built. Fifty miles long, five miles wide, with the reactionless engines installed but the FTL drives built but not installed. The hyperdrive cores still on the planet when the Mantids overran the manufacturing facility. The creation engines were loaded with templates but as the ship fled the computer systems were damaged, damaging the templates. The VI hashes were corrupted, any VI spawned insane or damaged or mentally disabled. The hydroponics bays and the medical bays were loaded but damaged.
The Digital Sentience had not covered itself in glory, even the colonists admitted it. As it had gone crazy, it had released some colonists to keep it company in its madness. As time went on, the ship became a strange blend of a high tech world of savagery and savages who no longer knew they were aboard a great ship. The DS considered itself a God, the savages living and existing within its body. As time went on more and more parts dropped from the DS's awareness, badly hashed VI's taking over for the great sections.
Luckily for the colonists, the majority of the Longsleep decks remained locked down.
By the time the ship, which had never been officially named and any name it might have had lost to DS senility and the loss of the colony that had built the ship, reached Tabula-929 and the ship's scanners detected a habitatable world, less than 10,000 colonists, 3,000 of them Rigellians, remained in Longsleep but nearly 35,000 savages (8,000 of them mutated Rigellians) and mutants roved the decks full of vegetation and strange ruins built and collapsed during the thousands of years the ship had moved through space.
The savages were moved to the surface first, during Mat-Trans. Mat-Trans psychosis seized their brains and they became even more maddened. The DS, fragmented into multiple versions of itself, managed to pull itself together long enough to awaken the remaining colonists.
What followed was a thousand year war, the insane mutants and their offspring against the colonists and their offspring. Rock and spear against rifle and armor. Finally, the dust settled and the last the of the mutants had been eliminated at the end of the genocidal struggle. The two races, bound together by necessity, breathed a sigh of relief and turned to helping one another survive the planet, which at times seemed to hate them.
Holding tight to pieces of their past, they slowly began the long struggle from the Iron Age to the Industrial Revolution and beyond. When radio was invented they discovered the ship, still in orbit. Not some kind of holy star but instead a touchstone to their ancient heritage.
Decades went by as the colonists built a ship. A small one, to go and see if Terra and the Human Race had survived. When word came back that the Terran Confederacy existed, the residents of Tabula rejoiced, but were concerned. What did it mean for their world? Their culture?
After long debate, the decided the best course of action would be if they refused membership to the Confederacy, choosing instead of be an independent world, limiting who could enter the system and who could not. Restricting immigration they guarded their culture closely, worried about outside influence. They built ships, but few, slowly expanding in their solar system and keeping a wary eye on the nearby star systems for any who would try to reach out and bring them to heel.
Their was a martial culture, built by necessity, that took an obsessive view of bloodlines from the days of the founding. DNA was nearly holy, and those who watched over bloodlines wielded vast authority to the point that a single word of a Blood Matron or Patron could instantly end a century old feud.
They rejected longevity, rejected suggestions that they no longer needed their system of eugenics that mandated that anyone who reached the age of 31 was terminated. It was how it had been since the earliest days, when the food was rare, clean water was a luxury, and the old were required to make way for the young.
The planet hated the invaders. It had embraced the mutant savages, but had punished and rejected the 'pure bloods' with earthquake, plagues, volcanos, savage plant life, ferocious animals, and deadly pathogens.
Bit by bit they had fought the planet. From rude dwellings to towns to great cities, the ecology went mad and the survivors retreated to dome covered cities. While some fought the planet outside the cities the majority of the population lived in luxurious comfort within the domes.
It started with an omen.
A comet swept near the planet, close enough to pass between the planet and the oversized moon, the planet immediately sweeping through the comet's tail. The sky lit up with aurora borealis, the night sky filled with wavy streams of green light.
Tabula lost contact with the moon colony.
Before the people of Tabula could discover what had gone wrong came the word: Plague.
It affected the Rigellians, the Scaled Ones, first. They sickened, their scales cracking, their skin peeling away, supporating sores appearing. Fever drove them mad and they attacked the healthy. The Human ones fell sick next. A pathogen that caused rashes, flaky and cracking skin, infection, the fever driving them as mad as their reptilian brothers and sisters.
The dome cities locked the doors. Harsh, but prudent.
Thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of raving, fever driven, infected pounded at the bases of the domes, roaring out their fever coated agony.
Then came the word to the population of the domes a fact that the governments of each dome city had been keeping secret.
The ones outside weren't going to go away. They weren't going to die off.
They had been dead.
Panic and fear gripped the dome cities but the martial traditions held fast even as more traditions were revived. The people may have panicked in their souls, in private, but in public they put forth a stoic face. Many returning to the featureless plastic masks of the Early Years. One dome attempted to limit the possessions of weapons and the leaders found themselves fed into the great atomic furnaces that powered the cities.
A month passed, two, and the dead remained. Hedonism and wallowing in luxuries became socially taboo. Stoicism and spartanism gained traction as people began whispering ancient religious phrases to one another.
Then the clouds appeared. Locusts, devouring vegetation in every growing patches. The great kelp and algae beds of the heavy-metal rich oceans died, covering the oceans with a thin layer of rotting vegetation.
The cities were forced to repair and reactivate the great atmospheric terraforming engines, maintained almost religiously.
Many pointed out that they had been right to keep the ancient traditions as locusts covered the domes, creating a constant whispering sound as they tried to find a way in. Six months went by until the locusts died and slid down the walls of the domes.
Within six months, the continents were denuded of everything but dead locusts and dirt. Even the living dead around the cities had been stripped to bone. No animals or plants remained on Tabula.
Another omen appeared in the night sky.
Shooting stars.
For three nights the shooting stars got thicker, with longer streaks, some of them going from silver to red.
Then the impacts.
Dome after dome shattered as debris, following the tail of the comet at their own slow speed, rained down on the planet. Millions perished as the domes fell.
The locusts revived and swept down upon the domes. It became a war, man and lizard against the insects. The dome dwellers used only tunnels, each hour the streets and the air above the cities was scoured by fuel air incendiaries.
The locusts were beaten back.
In Dome-39 it happened. Someone who did not believe in wearing the masks and robes of the traditional got sick and, in turn, infected their entire building. Diseases swept the domes. Fevers. Pox. Pneumonia. Diseases they had no name for, much less any way to cure it.
Dome after dome fell.
The last one called out to the great ship orbiting.
It did not answer, its atomic cores long dead.
In desperation they built a small craft to take them to the moon. It was a desperate attempt.
It blew up leaving the upper atmosphere.
The pilot got out two syllables.
"Inco..."
But Tabula had a long history of martial tradition. A single setback was not enough to deter them. They built ten more.
Nine exploded.
The tenth made it to the lunar base. They radioed back.
It was destroyed, apparently by meteor strikes. As the crew was exploring the base their craft exploded, killing the crew that had stayed behind.
But the Tabula had a history of martial tradition, and they soldiered on. They had suspected it would happen.
They knew now that it wasn't natural.
Someone was doing this to them.
They set out to the far side of the moon, on vehicles, and in a heroic effort, two of the twenty Tabulans reached the crater they were heading for. There was a facility there, an old one. An ancient one that was mentioned in history books.
Inside the facility was a single craft. They worked to repair it, to get it so it could support a crew.
They failed.
Two remained when they made their decision.
They had always had a martial tradition.
They loaded the library core, containing all the data they had gathered during the troubles, into the ship. They filled their tanks with the last of the oxygen and boarded the ship. They lifted off, pushing the engines to the limit, till they felt as if they would black out.
The acceleration force was too much for one. He died, his lips pulled back in a grimace of victory on his reptillian muzzle.
The people of Tabula had a martial history.
The computer, old and tired, finished the calculations.
The remaining one jumped to hyperspace.
He had enough atmosphere, even with taking his compatriots nearly depleted pack, to program the computer.
He died, strapped into the seat, managing to stay consciousness just long enough to finish his task, his vision tunneled down, unable to catch his breath, panting from the heat but unable to breath.
The ship did as it was told.
Its builders had a martial history and built to last.
The ships limited computer knew it was dying as it flew through hyperspace. Hyperspace and computers did not go well together. The sleeting energetic particles blew holes in its mind and it was just aware to know it. It made copies of itself in volatile memory. Each time the dim little computer program failed the computer rebooted a new one, which made more copies.
Come to dim life. Read the previous reading's file. Check the current readings. Write the readings. Copy self to all available volatile memory. Crash.
Repeat.
It was content, it was proud of what it was doing.
Its builders had instilled their martial culture into it, given it a history of triumph and sacrifice to stand upon.
Boot. Task. Crash. Repeat.
More and more systems died. Damage to the hardware kept the systems from rebooting.
But the dim little VI could see the mechanical watch on the body of the last Father. The vibration of the ship's engines keeping the self-winding mechanism going.
Boot. Look at Father. Do your chores. Crash.
Repeat.
Then the hands and numbers for days were correct on Father's holy device.
It cut the hyperspace engines.
Across the solar system it had arrived in alarms screamed as an unidentified ship dropped out of hyperspace inside warning buoys, far inside the limit, appearing only a few thousand kilometers outside of the orbit of Luna.
Before the system defense could blow it to atoms the little dim VI opened what was left of its communicator and cried out.
"FATHER!"
and crashed.
There was no more copies, there was not enough intact volatile memory.
The ship went dead. The hyperdrive going cold. The hull of the ship pitted and cracked from riding too high in the hyperspace bands for too long for it to handle.
It should not have made it. It had ridden so high its very structure should have dissolved away.
But its builders had a martial culture and had instilled it in the little ship and its VI.
The ship was boarded, the investigation team forced to cut open the doors with a plasma torch, the surfaces welded by the crazed particles of hyperspace.
There the library core was found.
And one word painted on the hull.
"PLAGUE"
No cry for help. No pleading. Just a warning.
A warning to TerraSol.
It should have never arrived. It should have been lost.
But Tabula had a martial culture.
And they did not go gently.
---------------------
CLONE WORLDS DIRECTORATE
Did anyone else see this data? Those insects, that bacteria, those viruses, all of it was engineered by someone who knew what they were doing.
------NOTHING FOLLOWS------
RIGELLIAN COMPACT
The fact that it effected both of our peoples with lethal efficiency is suspicious. That is one of the reasons we make such good allies, what kills one may not even be noticed by the other. Yet these acted as if we were one species.
I am suspicious. The Tabulans were xenophobic and isolationist, but they were one of us. Lost children who had gone feral you do not punish. It is not the child's fault the egg was lost.
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS-------
MANTID FREE WORLDS
The Tabulans were our children. Ours as much yours. We were the abusive sibling who drove them from the loving arms of their parents. We feel their loss keenly. They have been lost from the fold and we feel their absence.
Do you know who did this?
-----NOTHING FOLLOWS-------
CLONE WORLDS DIRECTORATE
No. Like I said, we have suspicions, but no proof. Without proof, we cannot act. That is the way.
The data we have, thankfully recovered from that library core and the two bodies, point at elegant viral and bacteriological weaponry. Very elegant.
To be honest, it's too elegant. They share no common ancestors, there is no junk code, no evolutionary remnants, there's no way it is natural.
But, as I said, we have no proof.
------NOTHING FOLLOWS------
DIGITAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS
It took both us and Cybo to recover that library core. Taking molycircs unshielded that high into the hyperspace bands was crazy. Still, some of that data. They covered their tracks, the comet, the meteors, but let's face it, that was too slick.
Where would even that come from in their system? Not debris blown off of other planets, like some Mars to Terra transfers, all of the planets but that one were dead worlds that never developed any form of life.
And a comet? Not a chance. Any life would boil away circling the sun then freeze, with the freezing process rupturing any cell walls in bacteria,on its way out of the system.
There's no way any of that was natural.
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CYBERNETIC ORGANISM COLLECTIVE
We concur. We examined the data. There were too many at once, each following the other. Specific order to the disasters. We have determined this was a carefully planned attack that would look natural. We have determined that our lost children had determined the same.
Suspicious, we find the explosions of their exo-atmospheric craft. Even more suspicious is the destruction of the moon base the lone ship that made it. We found that nearly a dozen teams attempted to reach the hyperspace relic but only one arrived.
We have determined that this was not only planned but was being overseen by beings with a malevolent purpose.
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TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
This isn't good. That's six attacks in as many months. All of them supposedly
BLOOD! BLOOD FOR THE CONE! BLOOD FOR THE SCOOPS! BLOOD FOR SPRINKLES!
Ahem, as I was saying, all of them supposedly natural occurrences. They got too clever. These would look like natural occurrences to a primitive species but we're a bit experienced
BLOOD FOR THE TABULAN! BLOOD FOR SANDY! BLOOD FOR VENTALIX! BLOOD FOR THE CONE!
anyway, we're a bit experienced with solar system mechanics, and there's no way that this would happen on six different systems, wildly spaced apart, in six months. Especially all of them being
PACK THE JELLY DEEP! SING THE HYMNS OF ICE CREAM AND WARSTEEL!
man... especially all of them being strictly biological in nature. They got too clever.
EYE FOR EYE! MANDIBLE FOR MANDIBLE! GRASPER FOR GRASPER! FOOTPAD FOR FOOTBAD! BLOOD FOR BLOOD!
someone else want to go ahead. Man...
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v(=∩_∩=)ﾌ DOKI!
DOKI DOKI DOKI DOKI!
ಠ益ಠ ಠ益ಠ ಠ益ಠ ಠ益ಠ
DOKI DOKI DOKI!
m/(>..
------v(=∩_∩=)ﾌv(=∩_∩=)ﾌ------
RIGELLIAN COMPACT
Dammit! Someone get her out of here! I can't think when she's screaming in Engrish-Emoji.
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TERRASOL
We do not seek unjust war.
We are a peaceful people.
We will not act without proof, without diplomacy, without negotiation.
Another way must be found.
The guilty must be brought to justice in a fair manner.
Only the truly guilty deserve punishment.
Redemption must be sought.
We are a peaceful people.
Every life is precious.
And we will not seek unjust war.
>TERRASOL HAS LEFT THE CHAT (LOST CONNECTION TO HOST)
* * * * * * * * *
RIGELLIAN COMPACT
Oh shit.
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DOKI!
m/(>.
DOKI DOKI DOKI
-------WHEEEEE!--------
DIGITAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS
Digital Omnimessiah and his Twelve Biological Disciples protect us all
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MANTID FREE WORLDS
What? That's actually calmer than I expected. I thought he'd act more like our Treana'ad brother.
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TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
Sis, you don't get it. You weren't here the last time he said something like that.
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MANTID FREE WORLDS
What happened the last time?
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TELKAN GESTALT
Did that doki thing just get happy? Isn't she a crazy person who's on fire with a gun in each hand that broke a food dispenser?
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TERRAN CONFEDERACY OF ALIGNED WORLDS
It's worse.
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MANTID FREE WORLDS
Define... worse.
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BIOLOGICAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS
You+Terra=1%
That's what happened last time, sis.
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MANTID FREE WORLDS
Oh.
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