The Spartan Chronicles - Continued

[Captain Kirk]

Sparta Command

Miriam stood below a palm tree. The cool evening breeze swept over her like a relaxing mist. Birds chattered and lovers trysted beneath the lush foilage. Miriam sighed and turned toward Santiago who was watching her intently. Miriam frowned and moved toward the Colonel who quickly glanced away. Miriam spoke.

"Colonel is there something you want to say?" asked Miriam. Santiago edged to the right. She swept her gaze over the Spartan capital and replied.

"Sister how are you enjoying things here in Sparta Command?" asked Santiago. Miriam was momentarily taken aback. She looked around her again. The beautifal parks, impressive buildings, and cordial people made for a very inviting place. So Miriam spoke her mind.

"I think it's a lovely city Colonel. The people are kind, your buildings are impressive, and the parks and gardens are lovely. I'm enjoying my time here" Miriam paused, than continued" But that's not what you really want to know is it?" asked Miriam. Santiago nodded. She sighed and spoke slowly.

"Sister as you probably know is that we are at war with the Hive. Yang's forces are on their last legs too. He has lost over three fourths of his bases. He should be at our mercy. However what you don't know is that there is a new player in this little "game" of ours. A race of hostile aliens have landed on Planet. We're not sure how long they've been here. But reinforcements have destroyed ours and the Moganic hydroponic satellites. One of their factions called the Usurpers have allied with the Hive. We have strong evidence pointing to technological superiority. With the Usurpers on their side the Hive could become unstoppable" said Santiago. Miriam gasped. A race of aliens. Allied with that demon Yang. How could this be?

"How do I fit in?" asked Miriam. Santiago pursed her lips before answering.

"We need Believer support in this war. If you were to cast your lot with us and help the Coalition we would reward you with the Hive bases of Great Clustering and The Leader's Horde" finished Santiago. Miriam turned away from Santiago. Thoughts were flying through her mind miles a minute. Finally she answered.

"Colonel I need to think and pray before I can give you a defenite answer" said Miriam. Santiago nodded and both women turned and walked into the growing dusk.

[Hydro]

Somewhere in Morgan Industries

Paul Andreas checked his throat clasp to see that it was in place, and found that it was skewed slightly to the left. Only mildly annoyed, he looked in the reflective burnished bronze of CEO Morgan's office door to straighten it. While he was at it, he turned his head from side to side to see if everything else was in order. Yes, his hair was plated into place and his aqua marine suit hung on him just right. As a finishing thought he took out his kerchief and buffed the beryl on his throat clasp to make sure it shone as brilliantly as possible. Actually, Paul was rather proud of this accent. The beryl was a deep blue and stood out magnificently against its gold filigree. And the blue contrasted perfectly with his suit color. Semi precious and precious stones had been 'out' of fashion for the last 75 years at Morgan Industries, ever since they could manufactured cheaply and flawlessly. 'If everyone could have one, then why have them at all?' was the idiom in the fad-fastidious Morgonite society. Still, Paul knew he was never one to play by the rules. The much beloved, respected, and feared CEO Morgan, Sr., made it plain that those that myopically played by the rules were mere technicians in his estimation. Rules were simply guidelines, and 'to get things done one must venture outside the realm of conventional thought', as the CEO was known to say.

Paul straightened, pressed his palm against the door for a DNA check and submitted to a retinal scan. This was the third and last checkpoint to the CEO's office, and this office complex had what was perhaps the most elaborate security on Planet. The location of the office itself was a closely guarded secret, and there were at least 15 faux and real offices for CEO Morgan in Morgan Industries and nearby cities, each one fully functional (at least on the surface) and staffed.

"Greetings Paul Andreas. CEO Morgan is expecting you. Please enter," the door said in a sweet contralto, the voice of CEO Morgan's second consort.

On its own accord the door swung open. The door itself was over 7 meters tall and apparently made of solid bronze. But looks can be deceiving. Paul knew the door, and the office itself, was much more than bronze and synthsteel, and it could probably withstand everything short of a nuclear blast.

Paul purposefully walked into the modest (by Morganite standards) office and saw Nwabudike standing at the far end facing away from Paul. He was watching a series of animated holos, which Paul recognized as security reports he had submitted four days ago for the CEO's inspection. Occasionally Morgan would reach up and tap the air, activating a zoom or detail on a portion of the document that he desired more information on. At the moment two major holos and three sub holo detail reports were running. It was apparent to Paul as he neared that Morgan was paying primary attention to the holo on the left: the report on the liberation of Morgan Bank.

Paul stopped 3 meters behind the CEO and waited to be recognized. He knew his reports oh so well, but keyed in on what the CEO was activating detail reports on since that was what had caught Morgan's attention. As the main holo cycled through Morgan activated detail reports on all battle damage and destruction wrought by Hive forces during their nerve gas attack, subjugation, occupation, and sabotage as they left. Morgan was paying particular attention to the casualty figures.

"My god, Paul," Morgan said at last in a strained voice. His eyes were riveted on the unfolding tale.

Paul knew that was a rhetorical comment and waited for him to continue.

"40,000 dead in the most horrific manner. Almost all facilities except for the recreation commons destroyed. Mass graves among the solar panels and echelon collectors to the north and south of town. The Hive administrators did not even see fit to give the dead a proper and honorable funeral. Most of the remaining population stunned and traumatized, their world destroyed in the cruelest manner. Our beautiful, shining research city has been raped, Paul. Violated."

Paul detected a note of profound sadness in Nwabudike's voice he very rarely heard. Normally Morgan would abstract such events into profit and loss equations, and he usually did not dwell on the gruesome details. Yet, here he was, poring over all the frightful gore and destruction.

The CEO had suffered losses before in the Gaian wars. Three Morgan cities had been razed in mindworm attacks, but those cities had been small with less than 30,000 citizens. Nwabudike had been able to write those off as casualties of war. And of course he had had his revenge against Deirdre. Morgan forces destroyed two of her cities directly, and funded the Hive's near extermination of the Gaian's on their own homeland.

Morgan continued to cycle through the images and data. The silence continued for 15 minutes more.

"Yang has to pay, Paul. He has hurt my people,' Morgan said with a lilt of fury in his voice.

Morgan turned around to face Paul, his security chief. Paul noticed with surprise, and a little alarm, and Nwabudike's face was damp. Had the vaunted CEO been weeping? Paul was incredulous, but did not let it show that he had seen anything. It would be…unseemly…to notice.

"And he has hurt me," Morgan continued in a softer voice.

Suddenly Paul understood. Morgan was grieving for his son, who now languished in a Yang punishment sphere. Yang had sent a transmit-only message to mock Morgan and inform him of his new 'student': Nwabudike Morgan, Junior, captured at Morgan Bank during the occupation. Paul knew Yang wasn't being cruel, for that wasn't in Yang's nature. He did it for a specific effect, which was to throw his adversaries off balance, and let them know his position in the grand race for Planet had just gotten stronger.

Paul knew Morgan understood this intellectually. But still, Junior was his only son, and, in fact, was his only child. The old phrase 'you don't know what you have until it is gone' is very true.

"What is our status, and what are our resources?" Morgan asked.

"Our home island is secure once again, and we still control Communal Nexus on the Hive mainland," Paul started. "The Spartans, true to their word, returned Morgan Processing to us when we relinquished Plex Anthill back to them. The Spartans also turned over Morgan Pharmaceuticals to us after they liberated it from the Hive. So, we now control the Hunter Seeker Algorithm and the Weather Paradigm once again. We have a highly trained air force of 8 clean chaos and shard intercepters, but no bombers. Our small navy was devastated by the Hive attack on Pharma and it hasn't recovered. We have one transport and one missile foil. We have 4 clean chaos attack rovers equipped with nerve gas, and 6 clean chaos infantry equipped with nerve gas. Overall, our forces are almost as experience as the Spartans due to training and command, but we have nowhere near as many forces at our disposal."

Morgan nodded knowingly. This was not new information.

"What about our operatives?" Morgan asked with a pique in his voice.

'Ah, this is what he really wanted to know. The other question was just a preamble,' Paul thought.

Paul's face grew serious. "The loss of Manufacturing Warrens to the Drones took a big hit on our remaining Ops teams. We lost two elite teams there. We have three teams at Communal Nexus, and have 3 defensive teams on the mainland. Our strength is less than half of what it was when hostilities erupted with the Hive."

Inwardly Paul was smiling, since his teams had pulled off a plan of breathtaking proportions against Yang in the first days of the Hive-Morgan war. In a coordinated attack, his teams took out the few Hive defensive teams, incited rebellion, and marshaled the Hive resistance to opt for Morgan in the revolt of four Hive cities. The coup, however, was the acquisition of the Hive planetbuster. That alone was worth the enormous cost in energy and manpower. Since then, two cities had been given back to the Gaians and one co-opted by the Drones. Only Communal Nexus remained firmly in Morganite control since it was safely behind Spartan lines, had three operative teams defending, and since restive former Hive citizens were well placated with Morgan Industries luxuries.

Morgan paused for a moment. "Instruct our production centers to start production of airdrop probe teams, and a foil-base probe team when the production slot becomes available. The Hive navy is almost gone thanks to the Spartans, as is their air force, so there won't be much of a threat. Refit our rovers for airdrop ability where you can."

"Sir," Paul interjected, "our energy reserves are at a historic low due to upgrades and diversions by the Hive when they captured Pharma and Bank. Morgan Bank was our premier energy producer, but not any more. What do we…"

"I intend on punishing Yang," Morgan interrupted. "What we can not have we will destroy. Our teams will sabotage everything they can, and divert as much energy as possible. And," Morgan said with a feral gleam in his dark eyes, "a little genetic warfare is in order, I believe."

Paul nodded. 'So, that's his angle," Paul thought. 'Ops teams lead dangerous lives, and they are firmly in the gray area of right and wrong. Even so, genetic warfare is a dirty business. The Spartans use more direct means to their ends, and use their operatives defensively. Not so we Morganites.'

"Holo off," Morgan commanded as he abruptly turned and started walking toward his desk, and the two reports winked off.

"Do you have anything else on this Conquer Marr for me?" Morgan asked, all business once again. The switch had been immediate, but not startling. Paul knew that once a plan of action was resolved that Morgan would be able to focus again.

"Nothing you haven't already heard."

"Very well. Thank you, Paul."

Paul recognized his dismissal. He'd worked with Nwabudike for almost 170 years now and they had developed a fine understanding of each other.

Paul turned to leave, already formulating the details of the orders he would be issuing within the hour. It wouldn't be easy, and the CEO was a demanding person. Senior Security Administrator Paul Andreas was one of the CEO's right-hand-men - a go-to guy, a doer, and a capable administrator. The CEO held the strings, and was very good at plucking Paul's when the need arose. Still, Paul knew he wouldn't trade jobs the CEO Nwabudike Morgan, Senior for all the energy on Planet.

[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited March 26, 2000).]

[Dcole78]

The sub silently speed underneath the water moving closer to it's unspecting quarry with every second. Captain Svensgaard smiled as he thought of what Baldwin's face would look like as he learned the purpose of his little "visit" "periscope depth" he yelled and the sub slowly roze until it was only a few feet under the water. Looking through the periscope he searched for any signs of resistance. There were none. Smiling he thought to himself "of course there aren't who would attack a spartan fleet in spartan waters. Turning the periscope he looked around at the rest of his fleet. Three subs rode on the top of the water surrounding Svensgaard's prise a sailing ship designed like the pirate ships of old earth. Many improvements had been made however the "wood" was really the most advanced probablity sheath armor and the "cannons" shot glowing balls of choas energy rather than balls of steel. Then there was Svensgaard true pride and joy, locked in the bottom of the ship was an exact replica of an old earth pirate flag, the skull and crossbones. Svensgaard smiled as he thought of it and the other replica he had in his bunk.

"We are within range of the base captain" The piolits voice cut in on Svensgaard reverie. Slowly a smile spread across his face, his dream was about to become a reality. Order the other subs to emerge and the Fafnir to raise it's flag and open fire. Also move us to periscope depth. "Right away captain, said the piolit and the orders were passed on. As he looked out of his periscope Svensgaard saw the other subs silently slip into the water and then his heart skipped a beat as he saw the Fafnir raise it's flag and caught a glimpse of the skull and crossbones flapping in the wind.

*********************************************
Baldwin sat in his office reading over his latest economic reports when the buzzer of his comm system caught his attention. Looking up from his work he answered the call, a concerned and somewhat confused face filled the screen. "Baldwin, sir I am sorry to bother you but something is approaching us that I thought you should have a look at truthfully sir I am not sure what it is" "Show it to me said Baldwin, his economic reports immeaditly forgotten. A large ship filled the viewscreen and Baldwin was immeaditly taken aback. Being a lander he recognized it from his history books but he had never thought to see one sailing the waters of Chiron. Before him rode an exact replica of an old eighteenth century warship complete with cannons. Then his heart fell as he was meet with another sight that he had hopped he would never see. Atop the ship on a field of black was an exact replica of a human skull and underneath two crossed arm bones. Piracy had been born again on chiron.
Quickly he leaned forward to talk into the screen. "What was his name, he thought as the beads of sweet began to form on his forhead, "Robert that's it" Baldwin almost screemed into the communicator as his emotions got the best of him, "Robert contact immeaditly the commandors of our two destroyers we are about to be attacked" "Sir?" came the questioning voice from the screen as Roberts face, now even more confused, replaced the image of the ship. "Just do it replied Baldwin, I do not have time to explain" Just as Robert turned to execute the order Baldwin heard the sound of exploding choas fire.

[Argonaut]

Sea Hive

Chairman Yang walked into the antechamber of one of his many conference rooms. He walked towards the conference room door and was startled by the sound of a woman clearing her throat behind him. He turned to see an extremely attractive woman with dark skin and long dark hair, lounging on one of the antechamber sofas.

"Chairman," she began in soft voice with it’s unique accent. Her years on Earth caused her to speak with an accent from the Caribbean island region where she had grown up. She was one of the only people on planet with such an accent, making her not only beautiful, but a unique woman. "You wouldn’t be so rude as to pass by a lady without even acknowledging her presence, would you?"

"Of course not Ms. Roze," replied the eternally patient Yang. "However, I have pressing matters I must attend too. Good day." Yang nodded and once again moved towards the door.

"There is still the matter of my fee which needs to be cleared up. Or had you forgotten?" The smile on her face softened the harshness of her tone. It was clear she was not quite finished with Yang yet.

"Ms. Roze, I have not forgotten your fee. In fact, you can consider yourself duly paid. I have given you your life. As long as you are out of my sight within one standard hour, I will not have you killed. Any further queries?" Yang returned Roze’s same false smile as he waited for her response. Yet, she maintained her composure in the face of Yang’s threats.

"No further queries Chairman," she replied simply.

"Good day Ms. Roze," and Yang marched through the door into the conference room where his guest was patiently waiting. Once he was gone, Roze’s smile broadened as she contemplated her next move.

**********************************************

Conference Room 1, Sea Hive

"So it is you," were the first words out of Zakharov’s mouth as watched Yang enter the room. Since the young woman had freed him from the Spartans, he had not seen a single face he recognised. Yet, he could not fail to recognise the face of one of his greatest competitors, Chairman Sheng-ji Yang.

"Indeed it is, my good Provost," Yang replied. "I trust my people have been treating you with kindness?"

"Compared to the Spartans, anything is kindness," Zakharov spat with more vehemence then perhaps he intended. "Your people have been very generous Chairman."

"Excellent." Yang sat down across the table from Zakharov and it was clear that his true agenda was soon to be revealed. "I assume you are wondering why I have freed you?"

"That question has definitely crossed my mind," Zakharov affirmed. He was unwilling to give up to much information, for he was a firm believer that knowledge meant power. Yang was not the kind of person you wanted to see with a lot of power.

"The truth is, I am fighting a losing battle," was Yang’s startling confession. Zakharov had never known Yang to confess a weakness. "The other factions have allied against me. Spartan forces control over half of my territory. A new planetary coalition has formed with me as their primary target. It is only a matter of time before the Collective falls to the Spartans." Zakharov watched intently, fully aware that he did not yet have the full story.

"But there is a new hope," continued Yang. "The original inhabitants of Planet have returned. They call themselves the Usurpers, and they have agreed to help me in my war with the Coalition. Their technological capabilities are beyond our wildest dreams. There is so much we can learn from them, yet the others want to see nothing but their eradication."

"And where do I fit into this?" replied a sceptical Zakharov.

"Who better to study the great wealth of knowledge these aliens can provide, then the greatest academician that Planet has ever had?" Yang allowed his obvious flattery to sink in on his visitor.

"And what of my people?" Zakharov questioned further. He still did not trust Yang, which even Yang would have to accept as a wise move.

"I am afraid, that after your capture, the Spartans began an ethnic cleansing of your captured bases. Any citizen with University heritage was executed by order of Colonel Santiago." Tears began to well up in Zakharov’s eyes. Finally, he dared to ask the question whose answer he dreaded more than anything in the world.

"And my granddaughter?" Yang shook his head with solemnity, unable to meet the old man’s eyes. Zakharov stared intently out the window, tears rolling down his cheeks, his jaw clenched. "I will help you. Whatever it is that you need, I will help you."

"Thank you my good Provost I knew I could count on you," Yang gingerly put his hand on Zakharov’s shoulder, a extremely rare sign of compassion. A soft jazz ballad began to play over the rooms intercom system.

"What the—?" Suddenly Yang’s comm-system beeped.

"Chairman, our computer systems have been breached," informed a clearly worried technician. Yang simply listened to the music as anger welled up inside of him.

"Roze."

[This message has been edited by Argonaut (edited April 20, 2000).]

[The_Progenitors]

Spires:Ascendant

“They make poor meat animals, and they are uncreative Challenges for our younglings. We do not have enough old ones, and we do not have toor beasts from home, so they will have to do,” the Master resonated to his Superior Master.

Superior Master N’kal trilled assent as he watched through the duraglass of the Challenge Observation Room into the Challenge Chamber itself. His underling Master was obliged by age-old protocol to inform his Superior Master of the status of the training of the younglings. Some traditions predated the disaster of the Flowering, and these traditions were one of the surviving traditions. As such, each was enshrined in elaborate ritual, which was preserved through countless thousands of years of Progenitor history.

The Superior Master altered back, “Normally such training takes two decades, but now it must be compressed into two short years. Such change makes my tusks vibrate in agitation. Growth treatments and RNA treatments aid the physical stature and basic knowledge of our Progenitor younglings, but it does nothing for their psyche or training. And since these younglings will determine the future of the Usurpers it was vitally important that they succeed, and, indeed, it is required that they exceed all expectations. The future of the Progenitors on Manifold 6 requires it.”

Superior Master N’kal swiveled his eyes toward the Master to ensure he understood. The Master B’qon wordlessly resonated back a fourth order harmonic, indicating he agreed and understood.

“A Challenge begins, Superior Master. Watch and see. Assess the training, and guide this poor one to understanding so I can better serve Conqueror Marr,” B’qon responded as protocol required. His gill flaps curled inward in a gesture of submission and acknowledgement of authority.

N’kal trilled assent and both turned toward the Chamber to view the Challenge.

+++++++++++++++++

A seamless door opened and a scrawny dark haired human girl is ejected into the room. She is naked and has the body of girl just into womanhood, and can’t be much past 16. Her dark brown hair is cropped short in a messy way, as if by inexpert hands (or talons), and her face shows she is a polyglot of human genetics common on Planet. Her eyes hint of an oriental heritage, but her skin hue is too dark and the wrong cast, perhaps of North African dissent. And her eyes are blue, a clear nod to northern European stock.

Quick as a cat she gains her footing and makes for the already closed door. For a couple moments she pounds on the door, which she can’t see anymore. Feeling no yield to the door she evidently decides it is a lost cause and turns around with her back to the wall to scan the room. Seeing nothing but a dark beige room that is about 30 meters in diameter and 10 meters tall she starts cautiously moving around, evidently looking for an exit.

Finally, seeing and feeling no exit the young girl puts her back to the wall and sinks to the floor. She folds her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them protectively, hugging them to her lithe torso. Her eyes continue to dart around the room with alarm and fright. A fine layer of dirt is well streaked from tears that have flowed, and been wiped away, by her finely shaped hands.

Gradually her ragged, deep breaths slow and a look of profound fatigue crosses her face. She slowly places her face on her knees, which are mere centimeters from her forehead. Her chest starts heaving as she begins to weep softly and inconsolably, and she starts rocking back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

From the Observation Chamber, N’kal is displeased.

”It is not a very impressive specimen for the Invaders, Master Youngling Trainer. Is this the best that the Invader Yang could provide? I personally have captured, tested, examined, and masticated better than this,” Superior Master N’Kal altered accusingly at Master B’qon.

“Superior Master, I asked the same questions when the shipment arrived. Invader Yang has assured us that he has provided representative example of the Invader Humans. When I questioned his Invader representative it replied that the examples we had previously seen were from the Invader Human fighting stock, and were therefore not a representative Invader,” the Master resonated in reply to explain.

N’Kal was silent for a moment and let the magnetic fields clear. Dissidence degraded his thought process.

“This Invader Human Yang has told us much that is counter to Progenitor knowledge,” N’kal resonated. “I do not understand these Invader Humans. They are not Progenitor. They soil Manifold 6, and degrade its usefulness to Conqueror Marr. They upset the Grand Conquerors plans to use Manifold 6 against the hated and foolish Caretakers. They are destructive, primitive, and uncouth. The sooner they are exterminated the better.”

B’qon altered back a six-fold harmonic of agreement. “We do these Challenges to train our Younglings to view the Invaders as enemies, as food animals. It serves the Challenges, but it also trains our youngling’s psyche.”

“Agreed, Master,” Superior Master N’Kal altered back.

Both Progentors at the observer gallery perked up with movement in the Challenge Chamber.

“Superior Master, the Challenge begins.”

Sitting against the wall, Pyung Moon starts as a door opens, her head erect and alert. Instantly she springs from her tuck position to standing, her eyes fixed on the large doorway. A shadow passes the doorway and a Progenitor youngling steps into the Challenge Chamber. He is arrayed in a Ursurper battle sash, and has only his talons for weapons. He immediately spies the Challenger across the room and advances toward it.

His mind is not filled with battle lust, however, but curiosity.

‘What is this creature?’ Zzar asks himself. He knows he isn’t supposed to question. This is a Challenge. His job is to kill. But he also knows his Mother taught him to question to ask – it is instinctive. As Zzar ate her at his first Challenge she resonated to him that he was her Special, and that she had given her Gift. Zzar didn’t know what a Special was, or what the Gift was, but he knew that no one else in his brood understood his Mother’s resonance. Maybe that was her gift? A special form of speech?

He observed the creature was letting wet yellow fluid and brown semisolids erupt from between its legs, which impacted wetly on the floor. ‘That is a typical animal response to fear,’ he observed, forming a link to previously unused portion of his RNA-enhance brain. ‘Progenitors do that, too, at times of great stress,’ his newly discovered cache of knowledge told him.

Swiveling both eyes directly on it he slowly paced forward. The creature backed away, keeping its head toward him, watching his every move.

Then the creature starts moving the thin, horizontal bits of flesh that border its head orifice. Zzar can detect a slight disturbance in the magnetic fields around him. The disturbance wasn’t coherent but it did have a pattern, although it was not a pattern he could understand. He had never observed any animal to do such a thing. He forged a new path, searching his enhance brain for information. No, animals did not resonate, a data store told him.

‘Might that be a form of speech? Is it intelligent?’ Zzar asked himself, in a sudden realization.

The creature is moving away faster now, but getting nowhere, Zzar observes. There is nowhere for it to go in a circular room.

Zzar stops in the center of the room, pivoting slightly as the small creature continues to run back and forth. As it runs it gets slower and slower as it tires, and its head orifice moves wider and more quickly and it disturbances in the resonance fields have less and less of a pattern. And it seems to be leaking around its eyes.

Zzar has now assessed his opponent.

“NOW THE CHALLENGE BEGINS!” Zzar resonates clearly throughout the room. It is part of the age-old ritual, ageless, and revered.

Zzar springs into action. The exhausted creature tries to run, but Zzar quickly grabs and pins it to the floor. He places his bulk on the creature’s small torso, pins its upper limbs with his talons, and uses his head tusks to impale the creature at the throat.

The creature’s mouth moves soundlessly for a moment, and its eyes are wide. A great torrent of red blood erupts from the head orifice and the creature grows still. Its face writhes in what can only be agony.

After several minutes Zzar is sure it is dead. Not taking any chances, he keeps his body on the torso of the creature and his talons still pin its upper appendages. He pulls up his head tusks out of its neck with a wet slurping sound.

Sliding back slightly, Zzar extending his mandibles to feed on the rich nutrients of the creatures internal organs. They taste strange and have a bitter tang, but he can tell that they are nutritious. He may give back his meal later if it proves unacceptable to his crop, but for now it stays down.

Sated, Zzar stands up, bloody in proper Usurper fashion from his kill.

“THE CHALLENGE IS COMPLETE! BRING ON ANOTHER!”

At his feet the bloody corpse of Pyung Moon leaks its remaining fluids onto the floor of the Challenge Chamber.

In the Observation Chamber, Superior Master N’Kal is pleased.

“This one fights differently. Others in his brood simply charge to rend and flay. This one assesses his prey, observing, thinking. He even resonated a query to it. None of the others did that. He saw that it was weaker and frightened and let its fright work for him. This young Conqueror let his prey tire itself out, so that he could dispatch it with the minimum of effort,” N’Kal resonated approvingly to his Master underling.

“Yes, this one is different,” B’qon alters back. His reply has a second harmonic that indicates that ‘different’ is not altogether a good thing. It is subtle, and might not be caught by most Progenitors.

But N’Kal is not ‘most Progenitors’ and he doesn’t miss the nuance, and he doesn’t let B’qon know he has detected the opinion. To N’kal it is all information, and it is perhaps more interesting than anything B’qon may have overtly resonated.

“What is this youngling Conqueror’s name?” N’Kal asks.

“Zzar, Superior Master.”

[This message has been edited by The_Progenitors (edited March 28, 2000).]

[edgecrusher]

closure, 1.3

Scoutship Agnostic cruised on a wave of resonance. The speed that they had acheived altered the feilds in such a way to induce nausea and the progenitor equivalent of migraine headaches. H'mminee looked to her comm officer.

"How much longer?" she resonated.

"Half a turn, but it'll be another quarter after that before the effects of the wave wear off." the officer altered. "Wait..." he began. "Incoming transmission... it has the holo-ident of..." he paused, and resonated awe. "Great Caretaker Aa'chon."

The bridge fell to the nauseating vibration of the wave.

"Patch him through."

A large progenitor appeared in the center of the bridge. It was obviously very old. The skin was paler than most progenitor, and the talons had gone white. It resonated a fatherly image to all on the bridge. "Although this is a recorded message, I can sense that manifold six is near. We have spent several turns analyinzing coalesscense of resnoance. The sixth manifold is at Alpha Centauri. H'mminee. You were a broodmate with my great granddaughter, and you have distinguished yourself as a natural leader. i appoint you guardian of this mission"

------------------
follow close, the train of fools
just like them, (could be) just like you
-their eyes don't seem right.
[This message has been edited by edgecrusher (edited April 06, 2000).]

[The_Progenitors]

Spires:Ascendant

The air was rich with resonance, and to Zzar it was a cacophony of delicious delicate to vulgar interfoldings of electromagnetic fields. It was chaos, and it was beautiful. Zzar knew that electromagnetic fields emanate from each living and inanimate thing and that the fields vary by intensity, but still this display were somehow magical. The fields interacted and seemed to play with each other as one field would rise like a wave and envelop a smaller field. But, that field wasn’t gone - its complexity was simply added to the harmonic of the now carrier wave as it propagated outward, an added harmonic. Fields cancelled or magnified as the fields merged in an ever changing weave of interlocking forms that was breathtaking. The display was far better than color, and certainly richer than its pale cousin sound.

‘Truly, this is magnificent,’ Zzar thought to himself in awe as he stood to the side of the Challenge Chamber.

Surrounding Zzar were his broodmates. They were entranced to varying degrees, with some starting to fidget. Out of the corner of his eyes Zzar saw this and felt pity, for these youngling Conquerors, his broodmates, would only be semi-literate in the eyes of Progenitor society. To not be able to sense and appreciate, much less understand, this work of Resonance marked them as mentally limited. Zzar suspected their lives would be short and brutal, for ‘a Progenitor Conqueror must use his mind and body’. So says Marr!

In a flash Zzar realized that viewing the Resonance wasn’t a reward for him and his broodmates, as they had been told. This was yet another Challenge, but it was a subtle Challenge of a kind they had never before experienced. How many of his compatriots realized this? Zzar didn’t know, but he suspected only a few. And he could name them, for they were those with the quickest wits: Calcn, Flaard, and Dlec’. These were the younglings in his brood he must watch with a wary eye, for they would always be Challengers in the Rite of Domination.

When they had marshaled the courage each Progenitor youngling in his brood tried his turn in the Resonance to add his touch to the music. One by one they stepped forward into the wash of electromagnitism, almost obscured from sight as the fields distorted the very air around them. Zzar watched each in anticipation: ‘Will he be able to do what takes great strength and skill?’ he asked himself. ‘To be able to appreciate this great work is enough, but the Challenge is adding to it!’

Zzar watched more intently, searching for meaning as his broodmates stepped into the maelstrom. He hardly noticed them now, being absorbed in the Resonance, but he saw them try, and fail, to add to the form. Some walked back to the edge of the Challenge Chamber with a defeated look. These were the least enlightened of his brood, Zzar noticed. Most walked away with a thoughtful or even ecstatic look, even though they had failed.

After viewing the Resonance and his broodmates he understood. It wasn’t a Challenge after all, but a test of understanding. To conquer a Progenitor didn’t have to subjugate or destroy, but build and add. That is the key!

Zzar welled with joy, and a tingle of anticipation ran through his entire body. He felt like he would bust, so great was the revelation. Unannounced, he felt a new avenue of knowledge open up in his RNA enhanced brain – a never ending source of previously hidden, or overlooked, information. Or maybe it was from another source?

Light headed and almost in a trance Zzar walked forth into the Resonance. He felt the fields caress his carapace, washing over it as the electromagnitism waxed and waned. He felt the waves that pulsed throughout the Challenge Chamber, trying to grasp their meaning, their story, and their song.

Then, he caught a fragment. It was only a tiny fragment, but it was enough! Joy! Fulfillment! Understanding! He felt the fragment and touched it with his own resonance, gently and reverently. But this was a new resonance Zzar used, alien yet somehow familiar. Even as the Resonance in the Challenge Chamber responded to his ever so miniscule touch Zzar knew where he had gotten this Resonance: from his Mother. Was this her Gift to him? He didn’t know, but it had to be!

As Zzar stood in the middle of the Challenge Chamber he continued to touch the amazing Resonance. He knew his touch was a mote within the universe compared to the Resonance, but it was his touch. Zzar felt honored to be able to add to this even if it was in the most tiny, inconsequential way. The touch was all that mattered.

At the edges of the Challenge Chamber a few of the broodmates felt the change, and tried to discern the cause. The three that focused the most intently were Calcn, Flaard, and Dlec’. They didn’t know what it meant, but each instinctively knew they didn’t like it. To have another in their brood touch the Resonance was threatening. Each knew the source of their unease and disquiet: Zzar. Each couldn’t wait for the Rite of Domination, and they fairly drooled in anticipation.

In the Challenge Observation Chamber N’kal felt the Resonance with the joy that any Progenitor would. This was the phychohistory of the Progenitor race handed down from the ancients from a time before the Flowering. Progenitor might was great then to be able to make such a form, to distill the essence of what it means to be a Progenitor into a multiform resonance field of such depth that even now, after millennia of study, was only partially understood. After the Flowering much had been lost, and the Progenitors after the Flowering were but younglings compared to the ancients, for they can see their works, but never make or best them. Sensing the Resonance always made N’kal feel unworthy, yet proud to be a Progenitor – the race that made such an ageless wonder.

Then N’kal saw the change. Was it? Yes! It was a change! A slight, ever so slight, second harmonic! How can the Resonance change? Is it possible? It is ancient and immutable.

Through the electromagnetically distorted air in the center of the Challenge Chamber N’kal saw the youngling Zzar. Superior Master N’kal’s mandibles gnashed sideways in consternation.

‘Could this youngling have elicited the change in the Resonance? Is it possible?’ he thought to himself.

N’kal pondered for a moment, coming to no conclusion. The touch was subtle, but still it was there, as was Zzar. To say this was unprecedented would be an understatement.

‘Yes, I shall have to watch this youngling,’ N’kal thought to himself. As Superior Master he was supposed to be completely impartial in overseeing the gestation and training of generations of Usurper Conquerors. To be otherwise would let the unfit into Progenitor society, and culls are not to be allowed. So says Marr. N’kal had always let ability, happenstance, and the social dynamics of a brood take their toll to cull the weak.

This time he knew it was different.

‘This one will have to be watched. And nurtured,’ N’kal thought to himself.

[This message has been edited by The_Progenitors (edited March 29, 2000).]
[This message has been edited by The_Progenitors (edited March 30, 2000).]

[Hydro]

Near Pointa Sur

Sarah stood atop her fungal tower and let the warm, moist breeze blow through her thin blond hair. The tower was high enough – almost 300 meters – that the wind always blew strongly at its apex. It wasn’t really hers, she knew, but she was its de-facto ‘leader’, and the denizens it housed heeded her mental commands. Sarah now knew that the tower was a node, a focus in Planet’s neural net, and one of the epicenters of Planet’s sentience. As such it attracted many of Planet’s ‘children’: the mindworm vectors. Sub-larval masses to great boils of mindworms morphed in and out of the tower’s strangely porous sides, as did the locust of Chiron. It also ‘birthed’ Planet’s denizens, from its most base fungus to its apex: the mindworm. These birthing chambers were part of Chiron’s strange and symbiotic ecology that humans still didn’t understand – to do so would surely take centuries, if it were ever accomplished.

Being composed of interwoven fungus the tower was actually simply a self-supporting, extension of Planet, and it seemed to be held together mainly by Planet’s lattice energy. Only its trunk-sized tentacles were unique to the tower. Arrayed at random intervals around its crown they waved back and forth, seemingly like palm fronds in the wind. That is, they appeared to do so until the observer realized in many cases the tentacles were moving counter to the wind. These tentacles were another defense mechanism along with the mindworm vectors, and they were deadly. Normally fungus was pliable but sessile, but so not these tentacles. All Sarah had to do is look at the base of the fungal tower, where the partially absorbed remains of the Spartan transport were strewn. It had gotten too curious and too close, and it had borne the unfortunate attention of the tower’s mind-numbing power and its tentacles. It had quickly succumbed to the tower’s powerful onslaught.

The air had a tang of salt air that was far away, and on the near horizon Sarah could see the Central Chiron Sea. At the edge of the sea she could barely discern the sad remains of the human settlement Pointa Sur, which was a Spartan community that had been victim to a University terrorist’s biological weapon. But none of that was Sarah’s problem any more. She reflected that at one time she had cared, and cared deeply, about the problems of humans and humanity as a whole on Planet. There was so much injustice, treachery, hunger, disease, and the horror of war - never ending wars based on ideology and personality. This need to right wrongs had driven Sarah and it formed the base of her beliefs, and it had guided her when she was inducted into the Spartan Psi Corps.

Now all those concerns seemed so petty and far away. She had learned and developed her potential during the terror of Plex Anthill and its aftermath, and through the guidance of her bridge-mate Merlin, a former Hive citizen she had liberated from his psi-induced prison within his own mind and, accidentally, from his body. Now he was her constant advisor and mind companion even if he, too, seemed more distant.

Simply put, she had heard Planet’s call at Pointa Sur and had heeded it. The call was strong and alluring, and seemed so right. Planet wasn’t cruel, and didn’t engage in the politics of death. It was straight forward, and it only knew that it needed and wanted. To Sarah it was like a godlike child, wanting and yearning but not understanding. Planet needed her in a way that the Spartans, or even humanity, never would. With humans she would always be used for someone else’s end, and expended as necessary. The cause of her work and sacrifice may or may not be just, but it was her ‘duty’. Not so with Planet. In a way she had chosen Planet and Planet had chosen her. In response the fungal tower had grown, she had witnessed the glorious birth of a mindworm, and had then had morphed with it. In doing so Sarah knew she was reborn and was one with Planet, and was its Avatar. Planet had, she saw, great power; a power that was designed into it, she learned, by the Progenitors.

As Sarah looked toward the horizon it was the Progenitors that consumed her mind. On this topic Planet was foggy, for while it had a great store of knowledge, this knowledge was chaotic and focused in its neural net or its denizens. Moreover, the Planet had Flowered several times in its biological drive toward sentience. Each time it failed, and with that failure came a holocaust for the life on Planet, akin to Earth’s great extinctions. With those extinctions came a disruption of its neural net and its denizens; as a result, Planet has almost no knowledge of its previous sentience cycles, and its knowledge of the Progenitors was a mere whisper of greatness hinted at by the Ruins, monoliths, and the Manifold Nexus.

The Progenitors were back on Planet, Sarah knew, and they had been here for some time: over 50 years it seems. Standing atop the tower Sarah reviewed what Planet knew of the Progenitor: she saw their shape, saw their cities and works, listened to fragments of their curious and beautiful language, and observed their actions. But it just didn’t fit. These Progenitors didn’t act like the creators of the miracle of Planet. Even a few of their ships were yet in orbit, they didn’t come in power and grace. They acted like violent refugees, like the humans on Planet so clearly were. They acted more like… well…humans.

The mindworm tendrils embedded in Sarah’s temples waved in consternation, a miniature copy of the tentacles at the crown of the fungal tower. Both sets now waved in the wind. But while the tower pursued its own obscure path, Sarah strained toward the Progenitors. She desired to pierce their opaque surface, to understand them. To understand them is to understand the nature of Planet, and against that any action by the humans and Progenitors was irrelevant. Planet would survive their deprecations even if it would be painful, but if Planet could regain lost knowledge then it would stand a better chance in the upcoming Flowering.

Sarah felt angst. The buds of the Flowering (like her fungal tower) had already formed, and would continue to form. None knew this but Sarah, although maybe the insightful and sensitive Deirdre had an inkling of what was to come.

A steely look crossed Sarah’s sublime face, and it didn’t become her. It was a face that did not take well to such a look of determination. The look clearly said: Woe to any human or Progenitor that gets in my way.

Was Planet ready? Sarah was resolved to make sure it was.

[Hydro]

Spires: Ascendant

Bright pink blood welled, forming rivulets across the gash in the carapace. It gave off a heady aroma, rich with the fuel of power. It spoke of vitality, vitality ebbing away and lost. The blood would have been tantalizing, even exciting, for Zzar but for the fact that it was his own. With each welling a bit of his strength leached out, falling to the floor of the Challenge Chamber.

Indeed, Zzar noted that there was a profusion of Progenitor blood in the Challenge Chamber. It formed a pool in one area where one of his broodmates had met a particularly violent and sudden end. In others it was more of a series of scuff marks accented in pink, which had formed as a combatant made his way across the Chamber to make his kill, or to be killed. Some formed pink droplets, splattered where it had fallen after a singular and violent thrust or slash had thrown it from the assailant or victim's body.

The Rite of Domination was never pretty. Zzar knew it had an age-old purpose in Usurper society: to weed out the weak, and identify the worthy. However, Zzar never in a thousand years would have thought of himself as weak, or unworthy. Yet, here he was, facing his most able broodmate Calcn with his life force leaking onto the floor of the Chamber.

He wasn't so weak that it pooled, oh, no. He was still able to keep moving. To stop moving caused blood to pool, and that was a signal of the end.

Across the Chamber Calcn paced him, not letting him rest or the chance to attempt a pathetic repair on his rent carapace. The moist air wasn't moist enough, and he could feel his exposed lower digestive organs begin to cool and harden. Zzar knew he might ****** this process if he could retrieve the chunk of missing carapace, but Calcn was preventing that.

Already Calcn was drooling with victory, not ready to commit to the final combat. He was waiting, wisely, until Zzar was too weak to resist effectively. This Zzar knew. He had done that himself when he had dispatched three of his Progenitor broodmates who had foolishly Challenged him. And he had used it against that strange, soft creature in the Challenge Chamber from 15 turnings ago. It was an effective strategy, one for a warrior. The foolish rush in, the wise rush to observe, Marr has said, Zzar remembered mournfully.

To fail in the last Challenge of the Rite of Domination seemed so unjust to Zzar. He had won all the rest, and he had touched the Resonance. That had shown him more joy than the kills in the Challenge Chamber.

But, that was past. Already Zzar could feel his strength ebb, and his vision narrowed to a tunnel. As a body is deprived of oxygen the first affected are non-essential organs. Soon, the oxygen-starved brain will start to malfunction, generating false perceptions of sensory input and even output. Death will soon follow without medical attention, a data packet in his RNA-enhance brain told him, unbidden.

That is something that it is interesting but useless now, Zzar thought peevishly.

Movement caught Zzar's eye, and he looked up to the right. Advancing on him was Calcn.

He must have judged me too weak to resist, Zzar thought sullenly. Then he noticed he had stopped moving, and blood was forming a pink pool under his talons. The pool of blood was always the sign.

Ruefully, he thought, I would advance, too.

Summoning his remaining energy, Zzar turned to face his antagonist. He was larger than Zzar, and almost as intelligent. But he had a certain ferocity and cunning that Zzar had underestimated, to his regret.

Calcn was almost upon him, and Zzar could barely see.

Unbidden, a resonance built inside Zzar's carapace. It wasn't a healing resonance, or even one of final, futile challenge. It also wasn't one of grief or regret. It was his Mother's Song, the one he knew she had trilled to him when he was still in the egg. A Gift, she had called it. It had allowed him to touch the Resonance before, and Zzar knew it had a certain power. Now it simply provided a cold comfort as he stood as straight as he could, toward his doom.

Calcn stood there, waiting. Waiting.

Zzar continued his Song. Then he wondered, Why is he waiting? I am can barely lift a talon to stop him. I can barely even see him!

Still, Calcn didn't attack. He simply stood. Waiting?

Then Zzar focused his dimming eyesight, looking Calcn over. His posture was right, and his mandibles still gnashed, with the drool of victory dripping.

Looking into Calcn's eyes, however, he saw something else. He saw raw, unbridled fear: A fear so real and terrible that it stopped the mind, paralyzing it with dread.

Zzar knew his mind was working slowly, but he at last understood. His Mother's Song was more than communication!

It can be used to attack! Zzar through triumphantly.

The Song burst forth, resonating from his very being. He could feel it pulse through his carapace, echoing complex harmonics off his chitin, filling the Challenge Chamber with his Song.

Calcn stood there, enmeshed in Zzar's Song. Now he was not just a listener, but also its target. His drooling stopped. Then his mandibles stopped gnashing. Finally, his eyes rotated awkwardly, and he toppled over onto the bloody floor of the Challenge Chamber.

Dimly, Zzar felt triumph. He scuffled over to Calcn, his closest friend and challenger, and dragged himself to his head. Astride his chest, he struggled to use his talons to pin Calcn's arms. Zzar lifted his head and brought it down with all the force he could muster. His tusks impacted with a reverberation that was augmented by his dizziness. With a Crack! they pierced Calcn's neck shield.

There was no blood, no soft, wet bite.

It isn't enough, Zzar through wearily.

He brought his head down again, as hard as he could.

Another resounding Crack! filled his hearing and reverberated through his head. This time it struck home, impaling the breathing tube and an artery. Hot, wet blood sprayed over Zzar in a wave of pink.

Calcn's eyes fluttered open, now that the Song was done and its paralyzing resonance gone. Pain had awakened him.

In a weak and pained voice Calcn resonated, "Do me honor, Zzar. The Rite of Domination demands it, and I ask it."

Zzar barely hear the plea, but understood it. If a Progenitor fought well, he deserved honor. And Calcn had fought well.

Zzar backed down from his friend's body, and tore open his two layers of chitin that protected his abdomen. Calcn's body quaked with the pain at this violence. With ritual reverence, he lowered his mandibles into Calcn's still living entrails and ate, and ate well. Blood spurted from ruptured arteries and from each heart as Zzar ate them. Blood washed his face

Calcn shuddered in pain, and then was still.

Sated, Zzar rose, steaming pink blood covering his face shield, tusks, and upper torso. Some of it was his, but most was Calcn's.

Standing as straight as he could, Zzar resonated clearly through the room: "THE CHALLENGE IS COMPLETE! THERE IS NO OTHER! I CLAIM VICTORY IN THE RITE OF DOMINATION!"

Zzar stood as well as he could. A full set of stomachs did not make up for loss of blood. He awaited his judgment, and his fate.

In the observation room of the Challenge Chamber, Superior Master N'Kal was pleased and worried at the same time.

'This one has gifts far beyond many Progenitors,' he thought to himself. 'But what of this paralyzing resonance the young Conquer Zzar displays? Even here I felt it, and for a moment it felt like my worst fears were realized, and in that instant all was hopeless, all was fear. What is this new resonance? It is almost like that of the feral mindworms on this experiment-run-amuck of Manifold 6.'

Still, Superior Master N'Kal had to acknowledge the feat. There was no error. He nodded to the waiting adjudicants, and the Victory was recorded as fact.

Zzar had won the Rite of Domination and was now an Honored Conqueror.

[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited April 06, 2000).]

[Hydro]

Spires: Ascendant

"So that small soft creature I defeated in the Challenge Chamber was one of these Invaders?" Zzar resonated. Blood still wept from his torn carapace, but his exposed lower digestive tract had hardened, stanching the wound. He was a little light headed, but fully focused and alert. He had to be: he was in the presence of the Superior Master N'Kal

N'Kal trilled assent. The Superior Master was pleased. Even battered from his triumph at the Rite of Domination Zzar was still curious, and he had learned to overcome the limitation of his pain. Yes, N'Kal thought, Zzar has all the makings of a Usurper Conqueror. Full healing will come later. But for now a lesson, a reward. "Yes. The Invaders call themselves 'Humans'. At first we thought they evolved on Manifold 6. We have observed strange and highly unusual evolutionary forms frequently, in fact, after a Flowering on other Manifolds. A Flowering typically destroys most mobile life forms and the Manifold has to start all over again and, although it doesn't start from the beginning, the template is open. This is part of the genius of the Manifolds that our ancestors gave to us: infinite theme and variation! Since it can be 100 million years between Flowerings it is more than possible that an entirely new and surprising form had arisen. But this theory was soon discarded when we determined that their DNA has nothing in common with Manifold 6, or any other Manifold. This was confirmed when we captured and interrogated several of the Invaders, for they revealed that they were from another solar system. They are aliens from a unique ecosystem. These are intelligent and adaptable. In just over a hundred turnings they have grown from a mere 100,000 to millions, and their technology has grown even faster. They arrived at Manifold 6 on an unbelievably fragile sub light spacecraft, if we can believe the reports of the Invaders, and they were then more primitive than the Progenitor race was almost a billion years ago! At that time they didn't have any knowledge of the beauty and utility of resonance, knew nothing of interstellar resonance gates, and they are just now learning the secrets of Manifold 6. They are dangerously unstable. Indeed, they destroyed their own homeworld with weapons of mass destruction! No poetic but unexpected Flowering took them down, as it did us. They self immolated themselves, and these are the only pathetic survivors! They are truly a threat to Marr's plans for Manifold 6, and to the Progenitor race."

During this lecture Zzar and the Superior Master observed a multitude of holograms of humans, each of which rotated to show all angles and all sides. Superimposed over each was a low resonance that, if activated, could be brought up to perceptible levels. The resonance told the observations and research on the featured subjects, most of which was highly technical. The Superior Master N'Kal had played several of the earliest encounters and dissections of humans to orient Zzar on the Invaders, but left the techno-babble reports for Zzar's later study.

To Zzar's eyes the Invaders looked similar to each other. They only varied minutely by height, and by the multicolored fungus-like growths that covered some or all of their bodies. In some areas it was thick, and yet on others it was hardly present at all. Some of their pigmentation was different, too, but most were a vaguely unpleasant and unnatural brown - very little grey, and no healthy green. The creatures that were white hued were the worst - they looked like corpses that had been in water too long. By the placement of their eyes they were surely carnivores. A datapacket Zzar called from his brain told him that binocular vision almost always indicated a predator. Only in instances where evolution had forced a creature to abandon its carnivorous habits was the trait present but not used to hunt. The most strange was its body covering; it was soft and yielding, not unlike that of a newly hatched Progenitor before it carapace hardened. Zzar found it hard to imagine that a creature could exist with so little natural protection for its entire life, with not even a partial outer layer of chitin to protect it! Their offensive weapons were minimal, too. They had no claws or talons like a proper Progenitor, and no war tusks. All they had were short, blunt digits at the ends of awkwardly jointed appendages. Looking at them closely Zzar found it amazing that they could walk upright at all. Surely that was a poor design, an example of their incomplete evolution.

Everything Zzar had seen and observed indicated that the Invaders were weak. "Superior Master, the Invader that I met in the Challenge Chamber was easily defeated. Marr must conquer, and Progenitors prevail. Our ability, valor, and technology are superior. Why have we not exterminated them?" Zzar altered, genuinely puzzled.

N'Kal shifted uneasily.

"They are many and we are few. We number a quarter million, and they number many millions. As primitive as they are, they are productive in their own way. Due to their apparently never-ending wars and many petty rivalries they produce an inordinate amount of military material. It is qualitatively inferior to Progenitor war machines, but it is quantitatively greater. With this they made war on each other. This served our purpose, for if they harm one another they assist us. Now, however, we are revealed to them after 25 turnings of secrecy, during which time we have built our strength. Marr's great vision foresaw this, and our bases were hidden, even from their primitive orbitals."

N'Kal looked at Zzar with an intensity that made Zzar distinctly uncomfortable. It seemed that the great Superior Master was looking at and then through him, looking into his very essence. It is said that a Superior Master can do such things, that he can divine a youngling's future by reading his passive resonance. So N'Kal seemed to be doing to Zzar now. Zzar fervently hoped he was found deserving in his august Superior's sensors.

"The honor and glory will fall upon you and your broodmates. You, Zzar, have won the Rite of Domination, and have earned the right to lead your broodmates in the battles to come. Some of your broodmates will pilot the gnats, which are newly refitted from our brothers from Home, who are newly stranded here at Manifold 6. They will clean the skies of the weak air vehicles of the Invaders. Others will pilot antigrav hovertanks, and they will sweep all before them. These will blast the Invader defenders and attackers, alike. They will raze the Invader cities that infect Manifold 6. Each is worth many times that of the primitive Invaders. We will be like a Flowering: deadly, fearsome, inevitable, and irresistible.

The battle is long planned, and long prepared. And you, Zzar, will lead them," N'Kal resonated fiercely, almost as if it were prophesy.

At once Zzar altered back, "As Marr commands."

There is comfort in ritual. A datapacket told Zzar that ritual is the binding that holds a society together - an agreed upon set of formalities that guide social interaction. All of Progenitor society was governed by an intricate set of rituals and customs, most many millennia of turnings old. Some rituals were said to go back hundreds of millennia, although the truth of such statements was lost in the Flowering of Tau Ceti. Order was maintained, and society strengthened by ritual. Now Zzar understood the truth of this.

For without tradition Zzar would have no idea how to respond and would be otherwise speechless.

How can I lead? I am just a youngling! Then Zzar thought back to his training, and to the Rite.

No. I am no longer a youngling. I am a Conqueror!

[Hydro]

Spires: Ascendant

Zzar opened his eyes and blinked twice, briefly confused.

Where am I? he thought, with more curiosity than panic. The room he was in was utilitarian, and there was scientific or medical equipment lining the walls. Three Progenitors, medical attendants by their chitin color patches engraved at their left shoulder, moved purposefully about, paying no attention whatsoever to Zzar. Like all Progenitors, their duties were age old and well defined, and woe to those that failed or exceeded their assigned responsibility. Apparently Zzar was not one of their duties.

While looking around Zzar was surprised when, unbidden, images flashed into his mind: a shinning gray city that seemed to be an island in a pale green ocean; an aged Progenitor with archaic dangles on her head crest that he felt he should know, but didn't; a stable star field not viewed through the shimmering distortion of an atmosphere, and a sudden flash of light and the formation of an iridescent ring of resonance against the starry black of space. Then new images washed into Zzar's mind, cresting like a great wave. Zzar could occasionally make out a fragment of an image or a resonance, but it was a tattered fragment that he couldn't understand and was soon log. The images flashed by faster and faster until they were one long distortion, filled with flashes of color, sound, and warped and incomprehensibly jumbled resonance fields.

Zzar shut his eyes, but it didn't help. He could still see, could still feel the images. They were real, but seemed to be phantoms.

And the images wouldn't stop. All the images demanded his attention, reaching into his consciousness, exhorting their importance. Some had greater power and stayed for a fraction of a second, only long enough for Zzar to know they were there but not long enough to actually see or understand. Then they were carried away and replaced with another image, more sound, and more discordant resonance. The cacophony grew, as did Zzar's confusion.

Now the images, sounds, and resonance passed by so fast and with such intensity that Zzar could not see the room that he knew he was in. Pressure grew. Each image now was a burst, thousands each second, and each caused his mind to jolt with shock, and fear. Zzar started to panic, feeling overwhelmed.

Then the images conquered his last willful, conscious thought and descended like ravenous beasts to the feast.

Blackness.

++++++++++++++++++

Zzar opened his eyes, strangely exhausted. The lights in the room seemed a to be little bright, or his eyes overly sensitive. Standing around him were three medical technicians and one Honored Healer, a combat veteran by the battle stripes on his blue chitin. The healer was older judging from his discolored chitin, but not old enough to be an Old One. There was an odd lack of emitted resonance in the room - almost as if it were purposefully hushed.

Zzar felt…something. Something uncomfortable. Something that was a little cold. That could only mean actual probes had been inserted through his carapace. And that meant that he was sick.

Sick from what? Zzar thought.

The technicians were busy reading their instruments and casting furtive glances in his direction. Authoritative, the Honored Healer said nothing.

Although it wasn't his place, Zzar couldn't stand not knowing. He resonated, "Honored Healer. I am evidently under your care. In what way am I ill?"

As Zzar's resonance filled the barren air the Honored Healer and the technicians looked relieved and unconsciously trilled to each other.

Inexplicably, the Honored Healer lowered his tusks to Zzar in reverence and respect. "Conqueror, we were treating your physical damage, which was a small challenge. Your torn carapace and internal organs were easily repaired. In addition, we were ordered by Superior Master N'Kal to give you access to the Wisdom of Tau Ceti. We had completed the procedure when you had an…unexpected…reaction. N'Kal insisted that time was of the essence, so we installed the Wisdom of all the ancients from the Memory Room. Normally this is done singularly."

The old Honored Healer stated this almost as an apology. Such deference was appropriate for a Conquer, which, Zzar reflected, he now was.

Zzar nodded. Now he now knew where he was: the Memory Room. This is the storehouse of Progenitor knowledge: the actual knowledge and, in some cases, recorded personalities of many honored ancestors of the Progenitor race. It was the hallowed link to the past, and it was what kept the sometimes far-flung Progenitors true to tradition. The past cannot be distorted or misused if it can talk to you. Basic knowledge transfer is a common thing, of course. Zzar knew that his data packets that he accessed so frequently were simply RNA enhancements of his brain. These were common medical procedures. Installing the knowledge and personality of the ancients, however, was something else entirely. These personalities were unique, and if lost they were lost forever. When a Progenitor died they would give up the ancients back to the Memory Room. A truly exemplary Progenitor might have his or her personality recorded as a knowledge base. Only the most august Progenitors were placed into the Memory Room as actual personalities.

"How do I communicate to the ancients, Honored Healer?" Zzar altered. He felt nothing right now that would indicate that his head was full of other Progenitors. It must feel much different than data packets, he reflected.

"They are suppressed, Conqueror. Your negative reaction was to all the ancients, who were trying to communicate with you at the same time. They came near to overwhelming you and we had to install a damper," the healer resonated. He lifted a talon and pointed to at wire, which ran over Zzar's chest, past his neck shield, and to the left side of his head and out of sight.

Oh, Zzar thought. There is also a probe in my brain. No wonder I felt…something.

"We will gradually remove the damper on one ancient at a time. This way they can introduce themselves singularly. They are Progenitors and will assist you, but you must learn what they can do and what you know. You must trust them, and they must trust you. They are not your slaves. They are the most honored of all Progenitors, and you, Conqueror, must honor them."

Now that it was explained, Zzar was awed that he was entrusted with such a precious gift. No, it was not a gift. He was simply a caretaker of a vast treasure.

At that thought his sight trembled and the images of the healer, technicians, and the entire room undulated much like it had during when he had observed the Resonance in the Challenge Chamber. It seemed like an intensely strong resonance field just sprang into being, from nowhere.

Yes, Zzar. You are a Caretaker, the field told him after a moment. The voice was clear and focused and almost intimate. And feminine? Very strange.

As quickly as it appeared the field disappeared. The healer and technicians seemed not to notice anything. As the powerful resonance dissipated the puny resonance of the healer could be resolved again.

"…and then I will, with your permission, Conqueror, remove the dampers one by one. You will tell me when you are ready for another to be released. Am I clear, Conqueror?"

Although Zzar hadn't heard all of it he was sure of the intent. "Yes, Honored Healer. Proceed."

The Honored Healer lowered his tusks and trilled assent. One of the technicians' talons moved several times, then Zzar felt a change. A presence, lofty and powerful, approached in Zzar's mind. Like a pinpoint of light it started, then grew quickly until it felt like it was illuminating his entire mind.

The presence formed in his mind, and an image appeared: an old female, with an archaic set of dangles on her head crest.

I am Lain'y, interstellar pilot from the Tlan asteroid colony at Manifold 4. I greet you, Zzar, as I have greeted many before you. May we grow together, and aid the Progenitors as we grow. My time was from before the Second Flowering of Manifold 4.

In his mind Zzar responded with thanks, as was appropriate. Again, tradition saved him, for he knew instinctively what to say even if he was speechless.

An interstellar pilot? To manage interstellar resonance gates is almost unimaginable! But, Lain'y says she is from the Second Flowering of Manifold 4!

That was over 300,000 turnings ago!

[This message has been edited by Hydro (edited April 13, 2000).]

[Bearcat]

The scoutship Agnostic sped toward Alpha Centauri. The wormhole drive was at top speed. Everyone aboard was holding their breath. Guardian H'minee sat rigid on her command couch. The cryptic message pointing them to Alpha Centauri was over but everyone could still feel it's resonance. H'minee lookd over toward Varac St'aar her Stellar Cartographer. She resonated.

"Is the manifold near?" asked H'minee. St'aar resonated affirmation. H'minee sat back. The fabled Sixth Manifold within their reach. If they could control the Sixth Manifold than they would control the Progenitor race. The Usurpers would be forced to surrender. St'aar noticed H'minee's resonance and altered.

"Yes Guardian. If we take the Sixth than the Usurpers have no hope of victory" altered St'aar. H'minee nodded her neck and relaxed. Than she realized something. The Usurpers had been ahead of them everywhere they had been so far. Would it not be plausible that the Usurpers might of made it to the Sixth Manifold before them?

"Engineer Dzora can we make the drive go any faster?" H'minee resonated. Sensing H'minee's distress Dzora jumped to her controls. Than she answered.

"No Guardian our drive is going as fast as it can go" trilled Dzora. H'minee resonated distress and took her seat once again. St'aar queried.

"What is it Guardian?" he altered. H'minee replied.

"Everywhere we have been so far the Usurpers have beat us there. Is it plausible that the Usurpers could have beat us to the Sixth Manifold?" altered H'minee. St'aar replied uneasily.

"It is quite possible H'minee. After all the Usurpers have been ahead of us the whole way. The only problem I can see is that they were never contacted like we were" altered St'aar. H'minee nodded and turned toward the res screen. Thw wormhole drive was narrowing. The end was in sight. In a matter of minutes they would know wether or not the Usurpers had beat them to the Sixth Manifold.
[This message has been edited by Bearcat (edited April 15, 2000).]

[Bearcat]

The Agnostic sped through the wormhole as fast as it could. After H'minee voiced her worries to St'aar everything had picked up pace. Everyone was in a hurry to get to Alpha Centauri. Everyone wanted to beat the Usurpers. H'minee had told everyone aboard the ship that the Usurpers were right behind them to increase speed. However as she sat on the command couch and waited for the end of the journey she silently knew that the Usurpers had already made it to the Manifold.

"We are approaching the threshold Guardian" resonated the conn officer. H'minee altered assent. She activated the res screen and watched the brilliant colors of the wormhole slowly dying away to the black void of space at the end of the wormhole. H'minee watched with rapt attention as the threshold drew nearer and nearer. Finally her ship shot out through the threshold like a mo'ra fish through a reef opening. Everyone on board gasped. Ahead of them lay a planet covored in bright colors.

H'minee stood up just as St'aar entered the bridge. She turned to him and he spoke.

"It's the Sixth Manifold Guardian" he altered. H'minee nodded her neck and returned her gaze to the brilliant orb. Others on board had stood as well. Finally H'minee spoke.

"We must attempt to regain contact with Great Caretaker Aa'chon. We need his guidance in this matter" said H'minee. The sudden trill of the tactical officer alerted H'minee to a problem. Sheturned to the youngling who pointed a talon at the res screen. Everyone turned to look. And thta was when they saw it.

An Usurper Gnat was barreling towards them. Apparently atteacted by the wormhole. H'minee reacted qucikly.

"Battlestations" she altered gruffly. The ship shook as the Gnat released a deadly barrage of energy. However the shields held. H'minee began to resonated a command.

"Release the Hornets let them try to distract it. Ready the Gravtion cannons. Shields to full" resonated H'minee. Everyone complied. Sparks fell from damaged equipment as the Gnat found it's target again. H'minee held her breath as the battle continued.

- - - - - - -

Meanwhile in the Hornet bay everyone was scrambling to get in to their ship. The Broodcraft had already been alerted by the distressed aura of their pilots. And young Pilot Tacn was no exception. Just out of Flying Academy back on the Homeworld Tacn had been assigned aboard H'minee's craft for a begginer mission. Seemingly!

He hurried to Yacu his craft were he began to check her sytems. The Hornets as sentien craft had telepathic links with not only their other Broodcraft but also with their pilots.

What are we doing? Tacn? Is there a reason why we need to leave the bay? inquired Yacu. Tacn was busy checking systems so he didn't reply. The ship queroed furhter before resolving to ask at a later time. Tacn finished checking the systems and hurried to climb in as a Guardian was coming by making sure everyoen was in. Tacn bolted the top of the ship and began the powerup.

ALL SHIPS GO, REPEAT ALL SHIPS GO came the command. Tacn gunned the accelerator and burst out of the Agnostic and into space. Now every pilot could see why they had been called out. A lone Usurper Gnat was circling the Agnostic firing every so often at the ship. When it noticed the Hornets it broke it's pattern and veered off toward them. Immediatly every single Hornet but Tacn let loose with their Singularity cannons.

"Yacu their is an Usurper Gnat we must destroy. We can't fire early and we can't fire late. We must do this at the right time" resonated Tacn to his ship. Yacu replied.

Yes at the right time Tacn. Tacn veered Yacu away toward the Agnostic. Two of the Hornets had been destroyed and the Gnat was circling bakc toward the Agnostic, which was firing Graviton cannons. The Gnat circled under the Agnostic and cmae up firing. The Agnostic's engines were hit. Than the an antennae array. The Gnat blasted with glee at the Agnostic.

Tacn circled in with Yacu taking careful aim. The Gnat noticed and began to charge them again. Tacn waited. The Gnat was firing wildly at him charging forward every minute. Not yet. Finally the Gnat roared past him.

"Now Yacu" he altered. The Hornet did a 360 and fired with everything at the Gnat which lurched to a stop and than exploded in fire. Tacn let out a victory trill and turned back toward the Agnostic which was leaking flames. And than he heard it over his comm band.

"This is Guardian H'minee to all. Report to the escape pods. Bring all valuble materials and supplies and report to the escape pods."

[edgecrusher]

closure,1.4
Alpha Prime, Containment Subroutine.

system uplink complete...

Michael phi-7 strolled past the holding cells for errant and degraded algorithms. He had up to this point been quite happy with his life with the consciousness. That is, if you could call him happy now. He was still adjusting to his lack of emotions, but they were still there in the background. It had been shown that the instantaneous destruction of human emotions, left both the algorithm and the host damaged or deranged. In fact, many if not all of the early Cyborgs were either left insane or permanently brain damaged.

A three-legged dog walked by. While uploaded one could assume any form he or she wished. most showed their former physical form sheerly out of habit, though it was not uncommon to see a dog, great cat, extra arms, an extra head, or in extreme cases something akin to a digital ameoba. Because of his duties he tried to be used to his download shape, simply because if he reached for something with arm number three, and there wasn'y one, things would get... uncomfortable. He did however have a black carapace, much akin to a progenitor's. He had done much studying of these creatures of late, and found their anatomy most facinating. The carapace was his idea of a joke.

If there was one thing that he insisted, it was that he check the containment cells. It had always, even back with the Spartans bothered him if things weren't just right. And subsquently, the phi algorithms have always had a sort of obseseive/compulsive disorder in one form or the other and it just might have been the personalities that the origial phi had come in contact with, but nobody knew for sure.

Currently, something caught phi-7's attention. In this particular portion were the high-risk algorithms. A few dated back to before the Unity crash, and others were at one point as vital to the Consciousness as they were a danger to it now. What attracted his attention was the fact that a cell was now empty. How odd. Michael checked the registry. It came up zeta-2. he stopped and contemplated this for a moment. How could zeta-2 have escaped when it was wearing the electronic equivalent of a silksteel striaghtjacket and was on a thorazine drip that would have put a score of the hardiest drones to sleep for a week.

And now, the cell was quite empty. he scanned the datapool.

name:zeta-2
commissioned:2130, by zeta-1 and alpha-6.
decommissioned:2215, by zeta-4, alpha-10, and beta-7.
reason for decommission: in 2188 zeta-2 had begun construction on its replacemnt, zeta-3, with alpha-8. at this point zeta-2 was beginning to show the usual signs of dementia that had accompanied the old age of the early algorithms. delays had proliferated in the construction of zeta-3. by 2199, zeta-2 had become 76% corrupt. it had consumed zeta-3, alpha-8, and several other designations. however, in 2195 secret construction began of zeta-4, by alpha-9, alpha-10, and beta-7. zeta-2 was finally subdued in 2215,but not after it had consumed alpha-9 in the final battle.

It was a cannibal. Michael phi-7 collectivly shuddered. He tapped on the force feild, and his finger stuck and when he tried to pull his hand away, the feild pulled with him like taffy. This was most highly unsusal.

"Aki zeta-5. this is Michael phi-7."

"yes Michael?"

"I have reason to beleive that zeta-2 has somehow..." there is a surge of static "..aped."

[Argonaut]

Courage : To Question

The twelve needlejets of Argonaut squadron were making their final run. They were the best of the best, the Spartan Elite. They had been chosen, as the best fighter pilots of the new alliance to lead the first assault against the alien bases. They had maintained radio silence for the entire trip, and now they were ready to drop their load of lethal nerve gas on the unsuspecting Progenitors below. Suddenly, a blip showed up on Argonaut One’s radar.

"We’ve got radar contact, permission to break radio silence is granted," he said breaking the tension of the long silent flight to their target. "Argo One to Argo Two, confirm my contact please."

"Roger Argo One, confirmed. Solo bogey at twelve o’clock."

"All right Argonauts," replied Argo One. "Move into attack formation. Let’s show these aliens what we Spartans can do. Shard launchers to full power. When we come into range, break in pairs and let’s take this sucker out."

The eleven other fighters pulled into formation behind Argo One, arranging themselves to provide equal firing opportunities for each needlejet. The solitary Alien ship would find itself faced with the combined fire power of an entire Spartan Shard Needljet Squadron. They didn’t stand a chance.

Just before the squadron came into firing range, the warning light went off on Argo One’s readout, indicating that the enemy had a lock.

"Scramble!"

"They’ve got a lock!"

"I’m in their sights!" Suddenly warning reports were coming in from all the fighters as each one reported in that the enemy had a target lock. How the hell could they be locked on to all of us?

"Argonauts, bring that bogey down," was the best Argo One could do to try and rally his squadron. He was up against an enemy he wasn’t prepared for but he definitely wasn’t going to go down without getting in a single hit. He let loose a full barrage of shard weaponry and new that he had hit his target. Except their was no damage.

"Holy sh-" Argo One didn’t even get to finish his sentence as he watched the strange ripples pass through the air in front of him. It passed through the front of the ship, and then he felt it hit him. The noise was intense and excruciating. He watched as the front part of his ship began to break apart and realised that his body was too. Soon the pain was too much, and Argo One’s world faded to black.

*********************************************

Sparta Command Aerospace Complex

William watched the Morgan Holo-News broadcast with disbelief. Argonaut Squadron had been wiped out.