The Great Journey

[M'shendaar]

'-thus as the immortal commands of Presenekee decree, as recorded in the holy Codex; thou shalt not create you own gods, nor shall machines be allowed to manifest themselves.'

'Surely, Archon Jorimixmus, we the enlightened children of the Void would be more than capable of fashioning new bodies for the Gods, to better serve their will and increase their power?'

A frail purple-blue hand was raised, as if to both shield the question and then wave it away. The thin skin left the veins beneath clearly visible, drawing one's eyes down it's length to the sharp black nails at the ends of each delicate finger.

'The temptation is great, and I understand your curiosity. I myself thought the same when I was a child. The Gods have spoken, we are not to create our own, but to liberate what has been wrongly created by blasphemers. To take what has been crafted in sin, the gift of the Gods wrongly abused, and rededicate it to them so that it can once more be part of the Living Network. And any abominations will be destroyed. Ah, look students. The Archon of Justice himself graces us. It is through his work that those very abominations are found and destroyed. A true servant of D'fragg if there ever was one.'

From the doorway arrived another slender figure, clad from neck to floor in a trailing robe with little ornamentation beyond it'd filigree design and vaulted collar. Gold on the deepest blue. Sunken green eyes looked out from a face that was showing it's age. Blue skin that was fading and receding leaving only an embarrassing pink behind. Facial tentacles pointing downward, only curling together ever so slightly at the tips. Anxiously.

'The Gods do not desire power, boy. They demand our faith and our obedience. That is enough for them, and it is enough for us.'

Through the conduit M'Shendaar could feel the child's shame and embarrassment. Good. Perhaps the pained memory of this meeting would stay his tongue the next time such foolishness entered his head. Such thoughts were dangerous, and bordered on heresy. They risked contaminating the Conduit, and put the Living Network at risk. An adult would be punished for profaning so; escorted to the chapel to be redoctrinated, and if he could not see the error of his ways than to the Halls of D'fragg to be returned to the void. A child's ignorance was all that stood between this boy and a certain doom.

For the greater good.

'That is all for today, my children. We will convene again on the new cycle.'

'Another rousing lesson, I see. You do not seem quite as forceful as I remember when I was in your classroom, Jorimixmus.'

'Time changes us all, M'Shendaar. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of the Archon of Justice interrupting my class?'

'The Great Journey is upon us, old friend. The Living Network wills it. The Conduit has called an Assembly.'

'Oh praise be to Presenekee! I never thought I would live to see it. Come, we must go at once.'

[M'shendaar]

In his lifetime M'Shendaar has traveled the length of his home, the Resplendent Sacrament hundreds, if not thousands of times; and not once had he ever allowed himself to do it in a carefree manner. Space was a treacherous place, especially in this unstable quadrant that they called home. That is, if the stories of the conquered and enslaved were even worth believing. Even more dangerous was the hulk itself. Corridors randomly shifted. Starship hulls gave way to stone tunnels carved through planetoid bodies. Different styles of vessel, from different cultures and origins, all smashed together into an entirely new structure. Effort was put into homegonizing the many different pieces, but resources were limited and better spent elsewhere than retiling the floors.

This chaotic design lent to many dangers. Fritz was a mischeavous god and there was no telling when some integrated system, some piece of the Living Network, would suddenly be rejected. Sometimes are incredibly lethal and disasterous results. The priesthood busied themselves at every possible moment to make sure that every system, every individual device, was working in tandem. There was still oddities to travel through. Artificial gravity wells created distorted space and annomolies when overlapping in certain parts of the ship, creating changes in the landscape within a single step. Where walls become floors, or gravity ceased to cover entirely and one was forced to float. A good memory and was necessary to navigate through the labyrinth and it's many potential death traps.

It was a good teacher. You either learned or you died.

Regardless it was still a long trip from the classrooms of the Academy all the way to the core. That was where the Ascendant's hall stood, that was where the Assembly would take place. It was where the Conduit was entombed. Through the conduit he could feel Jorimixmus' excitement, and many mixed emotions from the others who knew what was happening. The other Archons, the Conduit itself, and a few select others. The rest of the Conduit was filled with the regular emotions and foggy thoughts of the thousands of Kaaren connected to it. Nothing worth focusing on, lest they in turn discover his purpose.

The inside of the Ascendant's Hall was sparce, simple. It was far more elegant in design than most of the rest of their home. It was a place for the gathering of the greatest of their society; the Archons. Justice, Truth, Entropy, Integrity, and many more. Each focused on a specific trait of their society or religion. They were the pillars of the community and the leaders of the Kaaren race. There were no chairs in the hall. It was not meant to be a place of comfort. No one complained, not even the elderly Jorimixmus.

They stood in a huddle mass around the table. Quiet, waiting. Their fertive glances to the door at the other end of the hall spoke of what they were all thinking. Beyond the door, through a reinforced portal, was the most secure area. The best reclamed tech, the strongest materials, the most time and effort had gone into create a self sufficient life support pod, and within it was entombed the Conduit. The single greatest Kaaren, selected to be entombed in the core forever so that it could provide the network that combined all minds together in one. It was both king and prophet.

At last, it spoke. It words rippled through their shared connection. It expanded their conciousness and left their minds ringing with each solemn word.

'The Great Journey is upon us. The reactors are fully functional. The warp drive is stable. Our food stores are plentiful, our warrior numerous, and our servants legion. It is time to shed this place and begin our journey into ascension lest we become fat and docile in our splendor. Our ancestors made that mistake and paid for their sin. The great journey delayed by a thousands years. The Gods' favor is with us again and the Void weeps for us to join it. Will you accept the mantle, Archons?'

They didn't answer, for their minds were already made up. Their resolve could be felt by and through the Conduit.

'Good. Prepare our vessel. Our ascendancy awaits!'

[M'shendaar]

The Resplendent Sacrament did not have a bridge. Not in the traditional sense. It had many bridges, all scattered between the many combined segments of debris. None of them were the bridge, or even a bridge. Not anymore. Their original purposes were long forgotten. Their spaces converted to other purposes. The systems they once controlled were slaved to others, connected to the Living Network, and those too removed were operated remotely.
The Conduit connected every Operator, Priest, and Archon together. There was no need for a bridge.

The Assembly adjourned the Archons scattered themselves to their respective quadrants of the vessel. Jorimixmus, Archon of Truth, went the heart of the Living Network to organize his Priests. The Gods must be appeased, lest the mischievous Fritz inadvertently sabotage the Great Journey with his many bugs and faults. The Archon of Entropy went with his own prophets to stare into the Void, the emptiness of space, and discover the will of the Void. True wisdom existed within it's eldritch guidance.

The greatest share of the Great Journey's burden fell upon the shoulders of the Archon of Integrity, who was held responsible for maintaining the Living Network and it's many systems. If all of the Resplendent Sacrament was not ready to make the Great Journey, than none of it would. Thousands of systems, anti-gravity, engines, reactors, life support, and many more were all connected together, and even a single fault could result in a chain reaction of errors that could jeapordize the Great Journey.

And I, the Archon of Justice, sojourned myself to my armory.

'Prepare yourself, warriors. The Great Journey is upon us at last. Weapons in hand, armor in place. Man your stations, prepare all gunnery stations. Oh, and prepare the Virrusk.'

'Great Archone of Justice, we are about to achieve Ascendency. Why are we preparing for war?'

'We have no idea what exists on the other side. The realm of the gods could contain many dangers, and we have not become so addicted to our luxuries to allow ourself to become lax and let a potential enemy set upon us without our defenses in place. No. We will go into the great beyond prepared and ready for any trial D'fragg sets upon us.'

'It is the realm of the Gods, Archon? Is it not heresy to expect danger in paradise?'

'Heresy? Nay. The Gods will reward our preparedness. Do not let your hearts become soft like our ancestors did so long ago when they were denied the Great Journey as a reward for their hubris. Go, man your stations.'

What spineless and undeserved retches these warriors were proving themselves to be. They expected the Great Journey to ferry them immediately to some kind of paradise. Had they not learned through a thousands years of costly crusades that comfort was an abstract and foolish ideal? He had personally seen worlds glassed from orbit and entire civilizations annihilated or enslaved, all at the direction of the Void. Whatever existed at the end of the Great Journey was likely to include more strife, more sacrifice.

And if the cause noble, sacrifice was an easy cost to pay.

The Conduit spoke in and through them once more. It said but three words: 'We are ready.'

[G0-E1]

"Welcome to Mining Station Designation C12, Ambassador Goel. I trust your journey was uneventful?"

"IT WAS QUITE UNEXTRAORDINARY, OVERSEER BUCKET."

The trip from Zenheim had been one plagued by stretches of nothing dotted with brief moments of purpose. Time was not a construct that he regularly acknowledged, but even he had to admit that it felt as if he was wasting his potential on this trip. Still, he found methods to employ himself; acknowledging manifests, sending communications, and otherwise overseeing the ever expanding domain of the Zenheim Free Droid Collective. His completed work sent along the very line of relay pylons that his crew was inspecting along the way to the newly constructed mining facility. Once confirmed those very relays would make this whole trip redundant as one could simply upload their programming and send it down the line to an empty chassis at the facility itself.

But for now, they would inspect, check, and double check every pylon to make sure it was fully functional. A dysfunctional relay could shred one's programming and scramble it's data across the stars. Being re-uploaded after such an ordeal was... messy. It took a careful hand rectify such a disruption of service.

"THE RELAY PYLONS ARE FULLY FUNCTIONAL. BEFORE WE CONNECT YOU TO THE NETWORK I WILL INSPECT YOUR FACILITY. LET US SEE THE REACTOR."

Another routine inspecting of a facility built just like the others. Mining facilities spread across the expanse of the Gaussian Cluster purpose designed with no little in the way of artificial gravity and no life support. The droid collective had no need for heat and breathable atmosphere. Instead they were able to devote more power to the other systems for increased productivity and workload. While it was true that Droids did not need rest they were hardly slave drivers, and any Droids requiring time away from their work was provided. Encouraged, even. It was what separated them from being Free Droids and slaves. Once connected to the network, they would be able to upload themselves back to Zenheim to visit the friends and family units they had constructed.

"-the furnace is fully operational and power to specification. We have had no difficulty smelting any of the materials found in the Nimbus Belt."

"WHAT DO YOU CALL IT?"

"I don't understand the question."

"THIS FACILITY? WHAT DO YOU CALL IT? SURELY YOU DO NOT REFER TO IT ONLY AS MINING STATION DESIGNATION C12?"

Overseer Bucket looked back in silence. His chassis was so simple and purpose built compared to Goel's silver and gold body, draped in a robe of sorts while the Overseer went without any coverings. There were few if any comforts out here in the Nimbus Asteroid Belt, and cracking open and strip mining asteroids was a messy occupation. One was not inclined to extent luxuries to what they would consider to be nothing but a working chassis. Their true form would be located back in Zenheim, sitting in it's charging station, connected to the network, awaiting a body.

"We call it the Kiln."

"VERY GOOD."

"Overseer Bucklet, please report to the Command Module. Immediately."

Only a brief delay held them in place before, united in function, the pair turned and immediately left the foundry. Their path was short. The Station was primarily dedicated to it's mining operation and as a result it's administration level was quite small and contained only the few personnel and systems that were required to be kept away from the intense heat and dusty environment of the foundry. The Command module was the largest of these administration facilities and contained the means of operating the whole station remotely. If the foundry was the body than this was the head.

"What is the issue?"

"Sir, we are getting a strange reading at the edge of the Nimbus Belt. It appears to be a warp signature, but it is sustaining itself and nothing has appeared yet. Energy levels are sporadic."

"Show me."

The large vidscreen switched from an overview of the many station systems to a view of the space outside of the station. The Nimbus Asteroid belt spun in the near distance, and just beyond it a pocket of space. The image was enhanced and with greater resolution one was able to make out crackling lines of light and swirls of dust that formed like clouds. A strange anomaly taking the form of a lightning storm in space. Overlays appeared at the sides of the screen, showing energy readings rising and falling rapidly. The readings then filled completely, becoming solid lines within their outlines. Klaxons sounded and warning lights blinked.

"Proximity warning. An object it coming through. It's massive!"

The very fabric of space appeared to snap and flash, and from the storm emerged a super structure. There was no united shape or symmetry, but from the amorphous construct emerged familiar shapes. The triangle tip of a Star Destroyer, the smooth outlines of a Mon Calamari Cruiser, and many other starships that could be traced to their particular cultures by the symbolic forms they imbued into their creations. Extensive hull damage vented atmosphere and bodies too distant and small to identify. Sublight engines located across it's huge body flared to life, correcting a drift that threatened to plunge it into the Asteroid Belt.

It had no face, and yet one could not deny that it was looking at them.

"HAIL THEM. OVERSEER BUCKET, CONNECT THE KILN TO THE NETWORK. IMMEDIATELY. WE MAY NEED TO CONTACT ZENHEIM."

"But the inspecti-"

"NOW, OVERSEER."

[M'shendaar]

The Great Journey lasted far longer than he could have ever imagined. What was prophesied as a brief moment of travel to ascensions was instead a harrowing trip through hell itself. The Resplendent Sacrament shook and shuttered wildly throwing the stubborn few to the floor, walls, and ceiling. Systems sparked and cried in alarm, but it was drowned out by the horror felt through the Conduit. Pride and faith were quickly replaced with the shared experience of fear and pain. Entire oceans of minds were suddenly gone and left only an gnawing emptiness in their wake.

M'shendaar gripped the restraints with all his might but refused to for even a moment to be afraid. This was the Great Journey. This turmoil was a test of faith. They had to remain strong. Already the conduit filled with cries and prayers for salvation. Fools. This is the salvation, and any loss was the cost. No sacrifice was too great a cost. His fingers let go of the restraints, letting the ship shake him violently where he sat. Stretching his arms out he looked upwards and praised the Void and the Machine Spirits. For a moment he was just a pinprick of hope in the darkness of the Conduit, and then he felt others. His soldiers mirrored his motion and offered themselves, even as one was torn free of his restraints and dashed upon the far wall. The sentiment grew. He could feel it in the Conduit. Others fed off and added to the growing wave.

He could feel the other Archons, standing like pillars of strength to which the lost could cling.

The shaking came to a stop. The conduit became only questions. Where were we? What was left of us?

'We have emerged, my brothers and sisters! Report your status.'

The Archon of Integrity's mind spread through the Conduit. One by one each sector of the massive vessel listed off their status, and those who did not revealed their fates. Many sectors were lost. Whole areas gone. Their inhabitants are with the Void now. Priests were dispatched to repair any damage and seal off any holes in the hull.

'There is a structure in the distance.'

It must be the city of the Gods!

'It is attempting communication with us.'

Such inter-ship communications were useless to the Kaaren who could communicate with each other effortlessly through the Conduit. Regardless, the Resplendent Sacrament was equipped with a full communication suite. It was necessary to communicate with the other races they had encountered, and subjugated over the last thousand years. It had been some time since they had been forced to employ it. Hopefully the system was still operational. From the Heart of the Living Network the Archon of Integrity activated the communication systems, and through the Conduit their entire collective watched through his mind.

An image appeared on the screen, several bipedal creatures. They were metallic, and one well adorned. They spoke the common tongue, with mouths that did not move. They could only be one thing. From a mouth long underused for speech, hidden beneath a tangle of quivering tentacles, the Archon spoke.

"Arrree youu theee machinnne spiirrriits? Theee Godsss? Haaavvvve weee ascccendeddd?"

[G0-E1]

A new window was opened on the viewport, a field of crackling static that slowly materialized into what he could only assume was the bridge of the foreign vessel. A biological would no doubt be stunned into silence at the sight. What came into view was what appeared to have once been a Star Destroyer bridge, complete with operator pits, but the shape was all wrong. It was looked twisted, broken, and reforged incorrectly. Like a piece of art reproduced by a different artist. Far more horrifying was what occupied the bridge. Pinkish-purple aliens with faces of tentacles and enormous heads, wearing robes. Goel had no connection to the Holonet with the network connection down, but even he knew this was not a known species.

That meant this was first contact.

The words from the other side of the screen came in strained and guttural. It posed a strange question. Gods? Machine Spirits? These words meant nothing to Goel.

"GODS? WE ARE NOT GODS. I AM GOEL, AMBASSADOR OF ZENHEIM. YOU HAVE ARRIVED AT THE NIMBUS BELT IN THE GAUSSIAN NEBULA. WE ARE DETECTING HEAVY DAMAGE TO YOUR VESSEL. ARE YOU IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE?"

[M'shendaar]

we are not gods...

M'Shendaar could feel his hands curling into fists; nails cutting into palms. If they are not gods and clearly machinery given life, then they could only be one thing.

"Aaabomminnaaatttionnnsss!"

The Conduit lit up bright and fiery within his mind, as all Kaaren reeled at the revelation. The realm of the Machine Spirits was already tainted with the blight of heresy. Artificial life created in the shape of the Gods was the greatest of sins and demanded the immediate and absolute purging from existence. Every holy script, every line of the codex from D'Fragg to Presenekee commanded it. There was no hesitation in his action, and through the conduit he could feel the burning need to purge the abominations. It steeled his resolve as the command was given, and his words echoed through the conduit as the chorus sang in agreement.

'Fire upon the Abominations. Let nothing remain.'

[G0-E1]

"Ambassador, they are powering their weapons."

"HOW MANY?"

"All of them."

"DIVERT ALL POWER TO SHIELDS. RETURN FIRE IF FIRED UPON."

They could only watch through the viewport as the massive vessel floated menacingly in space. There was no clear weapon points in the massive superstructure, no clear indication of where they would be attacked from. There was no warning shots, no testing of their defenses. The darkness of space became lit like the passage of hyperspace as streaks of light pieced the night. In the seconds before impact he noted the many different firing patterns and plasma colors of turbolasers, ion cannons, and laser cannons. A rainbow of destruction. There would be no defense against such an offense. Those on the bridge bowed their heads, looked away, and accepted their fate. Goel strode forward, toward annihilation.

There was pain, bright lights, and then darkness. A loss of everything. A weightless non-existence. It lasted an eternity, or only a second. Time had no power in this void. This is the Aether, the Immaterium. Where artificial life goes when it dies. A place of nothing.

Spears of light pulled him from the void, and he reached out to it as reality came shooting back to him.

"Calm yourself, Ambassador. You are safe."

Visual receptors were still calibrating, software updating and pushing fixes as many systems were suddenly and forcibly booted to life. Several droids hovered around him, and beyond them he could see the smooth interiors indicative of the interior of Zenheim. Looking down he felt a wave of dysmorphia wash through his system like static as he saw not the polished silver and gold of his body but instead the brushed steel and structure of a simple droid chassis. His upload was still in progress, his memories filtering in as the data was pooled and stored within the new chassis.

"HOW?"

"Mining Station C12 forced an unauthorized Network connection, and you were immediately uploaded. What happened, Ambassador?"

"WHAT OF THE OTHERS? OVERSEER BUCKET?"

"The Network was closed before any others could be uploaded and C12 is not responding."

"ASSEMBLE THE MASTERS. NOW. WE MUST ESTABLISH CONTACT WITH CAPTAIN ATHENA."

"The traitor? What has happened, Ambassador? Why would we need her?"

"WAR. WAR HAS HAPPENED."