Chapter 1: Regenesis
"Passing Pluto's axial zenith point. We've got steadily rising activity in the Oort Cloud… no drive flares but the gravimetrics are getting a sensory overload, possible rapid vector adjustment capabilities. Entanglement is green and…a thousand neutrino spikes just now, density just went to the roof. What? Magnification to heading Y: 0, X: -300 to 300, Z: 3225, dead… ahead. Red Alert! Loose formation and enga-"
Audio extract from Earth Central Authority command vessel Betel black box. Providing and recording spoken context for the neural interfaces exerted in action is a time-honored tradition, especially for commanding officers.
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On that distant Ground, the year is 2683; by reckoning of the latter prophet, there are no soft words to lessen the blow struck against the very world. Not only the foe within and largely without, but the very elements above, upon and under the earth, which conspire against the sprawling ecumene thus weakening civilization before the final blow even, whose arms reached above the Upper Air and maintain an unseen thread in the labyrinth of the cosmos, still yet confined in at most direct visitation by sublight within a sphere, 50 lights in radius, 133 stars, and occupying no colonies apart from those that dot the heliosphere like a loose honeycomb.
The sputtering through and fro of man had caught the eye of unsavory neighbors or perhaps just a neighbor, who had preceded and then became the Second Doom, in a harrowingly short period man was brought low in conflict, outstripped in every way save the home-ground, even that wilted in the last days as mankind was again reduced, so much that the Flight, that desperate initiative, such was space is no issue, only the time to evacuate. In that darkest hour, salvation had come, seemingly a true account of miracle; as the Flight pierced its way through a withering hail of assault, scantily ever glimpsing the form of the enemy, shapes vast and glittering, launching quantum buoys mixed in with impactors marked space, and within that painted space triggering eruptions of antiparticles, forcing the Flight to push their impellents to the very limit. But this path is not without deliberation. In the earliest days of the Second Doom, rummaging through the oldest texts was the compilation of ancient tales, telling of a great era of cold and darkness, hurtling, and the first sunrise, and even before that… a schematic of stars, two brighter than the others. One is smaller than the other, and between them, a line is traced. An instruction, before the stars, the near bodies, a clear path. The will of the whole saw the light and seized it with both hands, destination in mind. Within the sun's corona did plunge the fleet, and a few times the shimmering forms of the foe materialized into space from nothing and took more lives, until the solar plumes seemingly consumed the fleet, the enemy turning away, satisfied with the apparent rush to death.
The fates have a rather unique view of what may constitute humor. For them, it is very similar to the same as is seen, yet extending into the epochal, and at times utterly indiscernible. This is one of those times, the right moment and the right place, following directions once cryptic, spouting forth from a mad seeming experimental AGI tugging at stories and prophecies and worldlines, yet now clear with the correct context: A coordinate inside of the Sol, 68 degrees "southern""latitude", 1 degree "eastern""latitude", deep down 400 kilometers into the corona. Then, a starboard slant of 10 degrees with load inclination of 5 degrees, orbiting for 188 megameters, maximum depth 500 kilometers.
Then, emerging from the position briefly in a 23 degrees angle slanting portside to 22 degrees, 190 kilometers upward, distance for 75.5 megameters.
Emerging again, inclination of 41 degrees, forwarding 110 kilometers upward, a distance of 21.5 megameters, then a starboard slanting of 8 degrees for 81 megameters, which brought to a region of calmed turbulence, yet the instructions have more to give.
In that calm, go with a bow load, inclining 45 degrees until a depth of 240 kilometers from that calm point, for 60 megameters. Afterwards with a portside slant of 20 degrees, diving in 310 kilometers, then diving yet down inclining 7 degrees until 360 kilometers in, 70 megameters in distance, furthering starboard slanting at 31 degrees until 380 kilometers in depth.
Dive. Port load, emergence angle 22 degrees, 199 kilometers upwards with a portside slant of 26 degrees, distance 43 megameters.
Emergence, stern trim of 45 degrees, always fully linear forward, for 70 megameters.
Upon completion, when the hulls are pressed to the limits of toleration, a change swept throughout the fleet. New life seemed to be with crew and passenger alike, though a vitality long forgotten was carved up from the depths of solar flame, yet the alibi remained in front of the fleet, a wound in space shrieking across the spectrum, up to tachyons. A Way has opened, like an unblinking eye, and it was passed through. Soon, it did recede behind, the foe finding naught.
69 ME
The circle is sundered, its author gone into the endless ether, far in such that the gods themselves dared not to pursue, nor to give much thought to that realming of shifting tides, of change made manifest, and even littler that it is the cradle. And of the Stewardess; as unprepared for her station, took upon the vacant throne, hoping that The God should soon return, prayed that what she has witnessed it but a simple extended period, and not the cessation of the circle. Centuries grew long and her resolve diminished, finding no space to grieve or comfort, a gelid zeal became her goad. The sight of the Last Anointed who is chosen with the lingering essence of The God, turning his heart towards the new Overlord, having also turned away the hordes from the bloody ways, broke her silent vigil over the heavens and she went down to smite in embodiment, and was overcome. Amounting depletion, she fled to her domain, and the gates shut tight, nursing her wounds the church and clergy soon ceased to hear her as clearly as they once did, and as she retreated, the Fallen, who remains unwounded, completed her replenishment, and once again pushed into her flock and led them away, and now the Stewardess could not Anoint as The God once did, only give unto them her protection and empowerment, these new "Heroes", in spite of the supposed restoration of the eternal mythic they should have returned back to the peak, are indeed lesser than the Anointed, of which who faded away with time, the most weary indeed turning towards the Overlord, fascinated with her resolve towards the very world. Thus the Stewardess watched as each duty slipped away from her grasp, driving her ever further into despondency, driven only by a creeping madness. The Overlord could not help but feel the damage heaped upon mortalkind through the convoluted schemings of The God. With her dominion upon mamonokind recognized, she sought to finally free the world from the lingering metaphysical grip of eternal war.
2763 AD, or 70 UC
"Typically, it takes around 360 hours at least for another wormhole to manifest post-transit to a system. Observing patterns indicate the gates certainly result from the "Glyphic Maneuvers" initiated above Sol-". The 13th Administrator was interrupted, the statement met with a harsh visage of skepticism.
"It is commendable that measures are taken to stabilize personal psychological health, but objections must be raised to the assertion that the maneuvers hold any paraphysical effects." Spoke the 1st Administrator.
"But with due respect, it is not simply the unerring appearance of the phenomenon, but the possible effects of usage upon the larger population. Medical records suggest accumulation of unregistered…developments outside of applied genetic therapy or enhancement. Alterations have begun since the 3rd wormhole and continue to passively develop, accelerating while undergoing transit. The changes are largely neurological, likely associated with 20 percent of the population exhibiting increased communicative and predictive abilities when interacting with bionts. The remaining 80 percent appear to develop similarly, albeit at a reduced degree and without the acceleration factor. Responsible genomes are partially isolated. Research on interfacing the novel features with implants ongoing at a stable rate." Added the 9th Administrator, still in disbelief.
"We are witnessing evolution before our very eyes. Doubtlessly, the wormholes may also be scheduled by an intellect fsr in excess of our civilization at it's peak. The path taken by our fleet circles and gradually approaches the galactic core. Every wormhole closes precisely after the last vessel passes through, and will remain open until then. We are being herded." A mixed tone sprung from the 2nd Administrator ever wary of external influence.
"Non interception is the most suitable course of action. All in favor?" The 6th Administrator proposed. All in favor.
3099 AD or 406 UC
The shifting sands of P3X-420, or colloquially dubbed as Tall Grass by it's explorers, due to the green crystal growths prevalent throughout it's arid desert terrain, and the sparse yet incredibly lethal fauna exhibiting unnatural capabilities, comprised approximately 90 percent by predators, defying conventional understanding, yet throughout the Great Journey, the absurd soon becomes the expected, the anticipated, the measured. A solution was quickly computed: the environment must be the result of planet forming, and thus contains an active regulation mechanism to ensure equilibrium. Xenoarchaeologists are quickly dispatched alongside protection and surveillance details, seeking the central system via measuring the overall stability of the local food chain as well as the turnover rates of novel offshoots and mutations. The twin suns radiated above like angry gods, through the abysmal atmosphere, hastening the activities of the personnel. Soon, seismic resonators detected unmistakably artificial geometry within the subterranean water table under a valley, which seeps through to the surface, as if deliberately. Nestled at a confluence point, where tectonic plates are taut and distort like unruly power lines in some 21st century ghetto, converging into a single pearlescent, gracile shape suspended as though an unseen puppeteer within a vast chamber, the matter parted into the mountains above. Thin and delicate ramps latch to the edge of the sightless pitfall around the vessel, tilting upwards, leading into a ring shaped catwalk just less than 10 meters under the hovering edifice. Upon boarding the vessel, seeing it bereft of any inhabitants as well as any signs of conflict, exploration proceeds at a cautious rate.
The commanding mainframe is soon discovered, nestled at the upper sanctums rather than in the well protected center as predicted, with the core being space for an exotic sort of reactor operating off quantum fluctuations to produce dark energy, which in an utterly arcane manner, used to expand a microscale singularity into a continuum, then collapsing it to provide nigh boundless energy, observed only by chance as such a reaction must be replenished only once in ten millennia, and at full activity. In this dormant state the vessel could remain intact for stellar cycles without worry. Soon the controlling intelligence awoke, sensing intrusion, captured the interlopers in precision temporal stasis. Negotiations were pushed forth in an instant, soon coming into AI to AI, the younger Oracle; the highest electronic authority in the fleet conversed with the far elder Path-Drinker, as it's compressed name made comprehensible was known, reinvigorated by the tales of the Great Journey and the burning desire for kinship, deigned to follow the fleet and offer assistance. Of course, not always, such a vast and ancient mind did not act unless it determined it necessary, terms which were accepted. A crew posting upon the vessel was considered a great honor, now christened the XIV Rapture, the fleet's first true Xeno Integration Vessel.
3218 AD or 525 UC… and 4500 ME
A new daystar blooms in the blue skies above that primordial world, the attention of cartographers, astronomers and diviners were fixated upon the once dim space lit up with a new spot, burning with almost a furor. The clerics and priestly officiates of every god consulted the lesser divinities and the written scriptures, some receiving visions and some outright the possession of the body, yet the shortly embodied gods said nothing, only to gaze ominously and, as if shaking themselves from a reverie, returned the bodily faculties and left into their domains, unsure of the foreboding they feel coming…from above, but also…all around in every direction? They would have to contemplate. The Stewardess wearily notes a possible threat, another interloper even! The Lover and the Joy wonder upon whether they would see new faces, the Passer acknowledging and going back to dutifully tending towards the afterlife, the Warrior and the Forger looking inwards to the reaction from the civilizations of the world. The Cat sees through the eyes of her servants, and is amused, looking at the corners and knowing there are arrivals. The Sea-Goddess could feel as though her domain will have much to do with this new event. The Scholar and the Poet all sense a burgeoning increase within themselves, that they may become of greater import. And finally, the Fallen, resting in Pandemonium and staring up, wonders if that land she casted forth long ago with such force has something to do with this.
Probe swarm deploying…..
Elapsed time has passed….
Wormhole not present. No quantum foam instabilities. Local Universal Energy Grid seemingly reinforced.
Life bearing planet. Industrial emissions non-existent. Certain portions give anomalous readings, self-contained. Megalithics observed.
! ! !
Parameters identical to Earth Standard excluding total mass and size
Initiate Stage One of Canaan Protocol
The odd ship Dauntless, not quite fighter nor corvette and shaped like a bird of prey, filled to the brim with supplies and equipment, and using the latest in stealthing technology, soon departed via launching tube. The White Star class vessels often were the testbed of cutting-edge advancements; thus, the crew were rigorously selected not only for raw in-line prowess, but also creativity and improvisation. Soon they entered the atmosphere, with active camouflage masking their spectrum, now relying entirely on the spiky nodules of exotic matter on the outer hull, slightly indenting the local spatiometric to soften their velocity, careful to avoid any form of possible detection. But they were. A warrior-angel, a Valkyrie, new and untested, was sent alone on the patrol to see to the incursion. Bursting out of a cloud in a flash of gold as the gates of Heaven receded again, she made best speed, shock-rings forming along the way. She reached near and banked to the front of the intruder. She was struck shortly by it's machine nature, yet the muffle spiritual signatures within show that this is a piloted craft. Immediately she sent her mind, telling the occupants within.
Corporal Jureel Inqanion felt a tugging. Immediately he extended his index and middle finger and tapped his forehead obnoxiously. The captain and other crew nodded, approving of reciprocating the telepathic signal, as scattered by the psi-dampening within the ship. He closed his eyes in focus, at times twitching, then pulled back in a cold sweat. Captain Eloise Beaufoy caught Jureel before he fell. "Settle down, Inqanion. Remember, no more than 20 words, we're strapped for time as it is.". "Y-yes, captain. The entity, she called herself "angel of the Chief God", she wants us to "back whence thou came"". Eloise lifted an eyebrow in scrutiny: "Angel? Private Kuznetsov, visuals… run diagnostics again." "Ma'am, all systems green, no software contamination. Operating at maximal efficiency.". The captain cursed. Why does the universe choose this moment of all times!? If she complied with the demands…then the venue may be forever lost, with possible reinforcements and all. "Re-ascend and prepare for g-absorption. Diagonal descent. Hard burn, electrogravitic modulation at standby. Humanity will not be jeopardized by some pompous avian". The Dauntless proceeded, and the Valkyrie panicked. The vessel was accelerating rapidly, soon it would outrun. She will intercept it, she will not fail her first real duty! Her spear forward, unleashing a brilliant bolt of golden lightning, and aimed center mass, but evasive maneuvers skewed her release to the left, shutting down a nacelle. A pulse laser raked outwards and the Valkyrie reacted on instinct alone, shield raised and solidly holding off the onslaught, her light aligned mana lessening the impact of condensed photons. As she prepared another spell, heavy impacts pounded like concentrated cannonballs against her. Jureel had took on gunner duty with the aft automatic railcannon while his ESP ramped up beyond safety limits. Her armor is steadfast, yet the pain stuck to her. She fell unconscious, calling for aid at the last second and feeling the others reach for her.
"Good shot, corporal. Sensors got jammed when the…angel…powered and near shore off the upper left booster." Jureel sat back from manual control and panting without reply, having pushed his already bruised mind into a brief psychic struggle against the Valkyrie to ensure a 100 percent hit rate. "Well captain…landing will be a huge hassle. Not as much as your paperwork though." He grinned, and Eloise gave a harsh are. Paper was phased out a long time ago, yet writing reports for every little deviation has remained an unattractive affair, and she did not want to be reminded if possible. "Electrogravitics, deceleration envelope. Get our thrusters aligned. There, the mainland's major forest, this vessel must be concealed properly after we land, as well."
