9. Networking
The Palace of the Gods was a vast structure sprawling both around and downwards from the mostly-rebuilt ruins of the Tokyo-3 Geofront. In fact, it was larger than was physically possible, several parts either partially or fully outside realspace. The Eye of Tzintchi exploited this to its fullest extent.
Despite its name, the room was not Tzintchi's sole domain. It wasn't even eye-shaped... at least, not often, and not deliberately. Instead, it was a bubble of artificially-calm warpspace, operating on a similar principle to the Eldar webway. From it, the gods could see (and interact with) every part of their domain, micromanaging their steadily expanding area of influence as only deific posthumans with limited precognition could.
For a mortal, even a glance at the Eye would be a one-way ticket to gibbering insanity. The room constantly changed its appearance based on the mood of its occupants, the current situation of what it surveyed, and sheer gleeful whimsy, and never more so than when all four gods were in residence.
Tzintchi made an idle whooshing noise through one of his beaks as the Eventide made its escape. "Bloody hell, but that thing's fast in the Warp. Maybe we should bring in a few more of those mages from the Bureau – I'd love to see what makes their technology tick."
Asukhon stroked his hair. "So why not pull the same trick we did on them back at Bloodhaven? Drop 'em back into realspace, let the response squadron bring them in, and spend a relaxing few hours coaxing out those juicy little secrets of theirs? I'll even let you wa-atch..." she added teasingly.
"Much as I hate to turn down an afternoon of happy sadism, I'm afraid we can't do that," Mislaato replied. "Bloodhaven's a nexus of power – we don't have nearly the same amount of control in Haruhi's universe. Not yet, anyway."
"Speaking of, what's keeping K.J.?" Asukhon asked. "Thought he'd have the little bitch wrapped around his finger by now."
"He does," her husband replied. "However, he's been getting... distracted of late. Indulging his own appetites. I suspect that some of his brother's weakness may have rubbed off on him."
"Technically speaking, would Kyon not be his father?" Reigle pointed out. "Given that our agent was created from the aforementioned's DNA-approximate, I mean."
Tzintchi waved an airy flipper. "Nah, too confusing. We need to preserve our monopoly on Freudian ambiguities – right, Rei?"
His wife/sister/clone-mother inclined her head. "A fair point."
As a matter of fact, the actions of Kyon's clone were proving themselves to be something of a concern for the gods. Whilst his primary objectives – corrupting Haruhi and anyone else in the vicinity who might prove useful – were continuing at an acceptable rate, he spent far too much time using both her powers and the girl herself in ways that were unpleasant and, more importantly, unprofessional. He was still too useful and too difficult to replace to discard, but their patience was not infinite.
Tzintchi was the first to break their mutual contemplative silence. "Right – next order of business, the Divine Assassin Program. Asuka, you've been keeping tabs on this one. How's it going?"
"Pretty well," she replied. "We've been getting some good recruits in – very motivated. Think I might refer Vita over there once we're done with her – I can see her talents proving very useful."
"Glad to hear it." The leader of the gods stared at the display again. "I've got a feeling that we might be needing them soon."
Though the sudden appearance of the mages in their territory had undoubtedly been useful in the short-term, the information they had gleaned from their captive about how her colleagues had discovered them and their likely intentions now they knew of Chaos's existence made him very uneasy. We've got a perfectly good scenario going over here – the last thing we need is some self-righteous idealists wandering in and screwing it all up. Besides, daemon-world creation is not supposed to do that.
Perhaps some countermeasures were in order, and the Divine Assassins should do nicely.
***
The USS Enterprise drifted through the outer asteroid belt of the Lakonia system, its sensors probing the space around it with a thousand electronic eyes. There had been reports of pirates in the region, raiding deeper into Federation space from a hidden base. That wasn't what worried the crew most, though. Pirates were simply no match for one of Starfleet's most advanced vessels. What worried them was the system's proximity to the Damocles Nebula, origin point and former base of operations of the extradimensional invaders that had ravaged the Alpha Quadrant.
The so-called 'Year of Chaos' had crippled the Federation, and things had only gotten worse after the invaders' mysterious departure. The proposal to scrap or modify the Prime Directive as a form of appeasement had been predictably controversial; some still believed that Chaos could be repelled through military might, some doubted they would return at all, and a significant number were simply reluctant to abandon their longest-held tradition at gunpoint.
In the end, the conservatives had won, but at a cost. Several worlds had seceded after the vote was cast, particularly those which had had actual contact with the enemy during the war. In an official statement, they called the Prime Directive 'the biggest suicide pact in history', and set about uplifting pre-warp civilisations with a gusto born of desperation.
The remainder of the Federation Council's collective reaction came as no surprise to anyone. Amidst strident accusations of treason and cowardice, they motioned to reclaim the lost planets and defend the Directive – by force, if necessary. It was a matter of days after that declaration that the first shots were fired, and soon the mightiest interstellar nation in the Quadrant was embroiled in bloody civil war. When combined with the destruction of the Borg in that part of the galaxy, a power vacuum was created that others were quick to exploit – especially the Romulans, who had escaped the Year of Chaos largely intact.
As the (very) reluctant instigator of the motion against the Prime Directive, Captain Jean-Luc Picard had gone from being one of Starfleet's most respected officers to an abject disgrace almost overnight, reviled by both sides. Now, he and the still-loyal crew aboard the Enterprise were in a form of self-imposed exile, patrolling the borders of their beloved Federation (or whatever it called itself now) against the myriad enemies who now circled it as hyenas would a dying lion.
"Captain, scanners are picking up a subspace anomaly near our position," Lieutenant Commander Data reported. "Another ship has just arrived, but it doesn't seem to be using a warp drive. It's almost as if it... jumped straight out of subspace."
"Like the Stiletto?" Commander Riker asked, his face pale.
"The precise execution is different, but the underlying principles are indeed analogous to those employed by that ship's FTL drive," the android agreed. "Some relation between the two vessels is not outside the limitations of probability."
"All hands, red alert," Picard ordered. "If the forces of Chaos have returned, we can't afford to take any risks. Mr. Data, put that ship on screen."
"Of course, captain," Data replied.
The mysterious vessel was... not the Stiletto; that much was immediately obvious. Unlike the vast, cathedral-like affair that the Chaos vessel had been, it was a small, streamlined ship, less than half the size of the Enterprise, though it did retain the sleekly murderous lines that could only designate a dedicated warship. Its prow was split into four huge fins that by their arrangement appeared to form some sort of focusing array, and its silver-and-black bodywork gleamed against the darkness of space.
"They're hailing us sir," Lieutenant Daniels said. "Their equipment's a... bit strange, but broadly compatible with our own comms systems."
"Very well – patch them through."
The face that appeared on the main screen was reassuringly human, belonging to a serious-looking young man in a severe black uniform. If he had horns, tentacles, or ominously-glowing eyes, they were not immediately obvious.
"Greetings, Captain Picard of the Federation," he said formally. "I am Admiral Chrono Harlaown, commander of the Time-Space Administration Bureau heavy cruiser Claudia. We're currently engaged in an investigative mission, and were wondering if we could borrow a moment of your time."
"How do you know who I am?" Picard asked.
An apologetic smile. "I'm afraid we took the liberty of listening in on your internal communications for a while before we elected to make contact. I'm very sorry for the intrusion, but when exploring an unknown and potentially hostile universe, a certain measure of paranoia is only sensible."
"Apology accepted – I'd prefer if you didn't make a habit of it, though. So what did you wish to talk to us about, admiral?" Admiral? Really? He's half my age at the very most. For the love of all that's holy, please don't tell me that Doctor Crusher's boy had cousins...
"We have recently been alerted to the existence of a group of entities called the 'Chaos Gods' who are believed to represent a threat on a pan-dimensional scale. According to our sources, their agents recently carried out an extended military action against this universe, and we're looking for first-hand information on that."
Picard leaned back in his chair. "Then we have much to discuss."
***
For Master Luke Skywalker, head of the new Jedi Order, life was good. The war with the Empire had finally ended, he'd managed to prevent yet another galactic invasion and, to top it all, he was married to the sort of wife who he had once thought existed only in fantasies. It was thus both annoying and worrying that something still niggled away at the back of his mind, preventing him from providing his spectacular good fortune with the enjoyment that it deserved.
Something dark intruded upon his meditations, a vast, malign presence that was still distant and yet growing stronger every day. When he cast his sight across the galaxy, he very occasionally saw hard, black dots appearing and disappearing within it, never long enough or often enough for him to be sure they were more than illusion, but filled with an ineffable wrongness that he could not ignore.
It hadn't done his honeymoon any favours, either.
At present, he was sat cross-legged in his spartan quarters in the Jedi Praxeum on Yavin, contemplating life, the universe and everything as only he could. A glittering canvas of stars and nebulae was spread out before his mind's eye, dancing with slow, ponderous grace. Nothing seemed wrong, and yet... there!
It was another of the intruders, coursing with alien energies that simply did not belong in this galaxy or even this universe, but it was... different, somehow. He sensed none of the malign, predatory intent that the others of its kind had exuded – the dark side didn't flow nearly as freely around it. Or at all, for that matter.
Curious.
He sent out a subtle nudge, redirecting the alien ship's course towards Yavin IV. Meeting these... beings (people? Creatures?) might prove very interesting indeed.
***
The psychic signal washed across the light cruiser Charak's Gift, tugging gently at the minds of the crew. Arf's tail twitched, and she glanced at Zafira.
"Did you catch that?"
The towering Wolkenritter nodded. "It appears we have been given an invitation."
***
Hayate walked at the head of the Bureau delegation, flanked on either side by heavily-armed guards. Who they were guarding from whom had yet to be decided – it was just that guards gave a first-contact situation a pleasingly official air. They were on an elevated walkway above a bustling city, golden-walled towers stretching up on either side them and gleaming transit tubes criss-crossing the air above.
After they had arrived back on Mid-Childa, the vast bureaucracy of the planet-sized capital had swung into action. The first stage had been verifying their story – 'look, they're evil, all right?' was not valid grounds for dropping the full might of the Bureau on some unsuspecting civilisation from a very great height, after all, much to the benefit of the surrounding multiverse. Their combat logs had been pored over by the Intelligence department (especially Nanoha's conversation with Precia), and their three passengers from Haruhi's universe had been personally interrogated by the amiably sinister Inspector Verossa Acous – an experience that they had borne with surprising fortitude.
With the threat confirmed and acknowledged, the next step was determining its magnitude. Emiri Kimidori had helpfully provided them with a list of the universes the gods had accessed via their territory, and an expedition led by Hayate's old friend Chrono had been sent to investigate.
The information they had returned with was less than encouraging. A single prototype frigate had engaged a quarter of a galaxy (apparently, 'look, they're evil, all right?' was not just an acceptable casus belli for Chaos, but an all-time favourite) and effectively won. After hours of debate, High Command reached a decision – the Bureau could not deal with this situation on its own. Allies were required. The campaign against the invaders was designated 'Operation Guardian', a pleasingly ambiguous title that covered a multitude of sins.
Two universes were immediately obvious as candidates, being both easily-accessible from Bureau-administered territory, and relatively high on the energy gradient, indicating advanced sentient civilisations within (or that several stars had simultaneously gone supernova, which the more cynical technicians noted likely amounted to the same thing anyway). One was on the list of places affected by Chaos, which likely gave them some sort of motive assuming that the gods were using their standard methods of diplomacy. The other had no supposable motive, but such a ridiculously high energy reading that overtures were probably worth a shot anyway.
Personnel from the Eventide were assigned to both missions, those headed for the former led by Nanoha, and those headed for the latter commanded by Hayate herself. At present, though, said 'command' merely consisted of the omnipresent Signum, who had no doubt come up with several dozen ways to incapacitate or kill their escort by now (should the situation demand it, of course), and Corporals Nakajima and Lanster, who were busily gawping at their surroundings... especially Corporal Nakajima.
Hayate, on the other hand, was rather bemused. The city was impressive, yes, but not that much more so than the most expensive bits of, say, Clanagan City on Mid-Childa. She'd seen the readings, and these people were practically living in caves and picking the lice off each others' backs compared to their full potential.
Ignorance or deliberate limitation, I wonder? If the latter, why?
They approached the entrance to an official-looking building that appeared to be built on a slight rise, letting it overlook the rest of the city. One of the guards peeled off from the group and inputted a code into a panel discreetly hidden in one of the columns flanking the doorway. The doors slid open smoothly, revealing a grandiose, red-carpeted hall beyond. At one end was another set of doors built into a thick vertical cylinder that was presumably some sort of lift. The shining gold of the city extended inside as well, set off nicely by rows of white marble statues depicting heroic-looking figures that lined the walls, many of them wearing frankly improbable sunglasses.
By now, Corporal Nakajima had produced a camera from somewhere within her uniform and started taking pictures, earning a sour look and sharp reprimand from Corporal Lanster.
"Behave, children," Signum muttered.
The two young NCOs hastily saluted and attempted to display the lethally alert intelligence befitting Bureau combat mages, almost tripping over each other in the process. It took quite a bit of effort for Hayate to keep a straight face.
Remember, ladies, we're here as ambassadors of the TSAB. Do try to make a good impression, won't you?
Aye, ma'am.
A-aye, ma'am.
The lift turned out to be a clear-walled affair, offering spectacular views of both the interior of the building and the city beyond. It rose at a faintly terrifying rate – even the guards looked slightly disconcerted. Eventually, it levelled out at around the fiftieth floor, opening into a spacious office which most likely managed to achieve its combination of open-roofed vista and pleasantly warm climate through the judicious use of force-fields.
Two men stood in the office, both in the rather garish neon-trimmed clothing that appeared to be standard-issue on this world. One was the sort of unobtrusive clerkish type who was seemingly cloned in vats across the multiverse, and the other was a tall, craggy-featured individual dressed in a predominantly white outfit that looked very much like some sort of military uniform.
"Ah, hello," the latter said in a deep, smooth voice. "You are Colonel Yagami, yes? A pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise," Hayate replied. "Sir, we approached you because-"
He cut her off with a gesture and an amused smile. "Don't tell me. You're having problems with a bunch of well-intentioned extremists who are apparently trying to prevent some vast cosmic catastrophe and inflicting far more harm than good in the process. That about cover it?"
She stared at him. "How did you know?"
"We get a lot of those around here. I used to be one myself, in fact." He turned to the clerk. "Hoshino, get our guests something to drink, would you?"
"Of course, President Rossiu."
Author's Notes: Yeah, I don't intend to shy away from the... implications of Mr. Ikari's relationship with his fellow-gods. That boy be officially messed-up, and not just because he's been dipping his brain in Warp-energy for decades by now. Seriously, Hideaki Anno read way too much Freud before he started that series.
The events in Federation-space seemed the most likely outcome of Chaos's intervention there. That's not a nation that takes kindly to being bullied, and blasting apart a not-insignificant portion of the galaxy is generally not a good way to create a nice, clean political solution anyway. This is going to end up as a recurring theme of the fic, I think - consequences and fallout. Oh, and the dig at Chrono and, by proxy, the other suspiciously young TSAB officers was something I just couldn't resist.
Regarding Gurren-Lagann, the author of the original piece said that that was a universe his protagonists were going to stay the hell away from, and with good reason. Given that this fic centres on their plans spiralling rapidly out of control (pun not intended), it was only logical that everybody's favourite thick-skulled drill-obsessives should get involved. I also disagree with him that their inclusion would result in the gods getting stomped down in three seconds flat - the Spiral Nation, for all its size and power, has several very big, very obvious weaknesses that something like newChaos could easily exploit. I'll let you guess what they are...
Again, thanks for reading, and see you next week!
