ACT III – ESCALATION
The Imperator
Unknown Location
Unknown Time
It was the low humming; just residing on the edges of her hearing that awakened her.
Her mind was initially groggy – until she remembered everything that had happened.
Adrenaline shot through her body and Patricia bolted upright, frantically looking around and telepathically probing the area around her. She stayed that way for a few moments, her chest rising and falling as she worked to calm herself. This was still real; it hadn't been something in her mind. The Overmind; the UFO; her surrender; it was still real.
Fuck.
She rubbed her eyes, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed to rest her feet on metal floor that felt oddly warm under her soles. The room she was in was almost a perfect square, with the bed she was laying on being against one of the sides; opposite her was an opening currently protected by one of the alien multicolored shields. Peering closer at it, she also saw that there was indeed a solid door between the room and whatever was outside.
So she either had privacy, or she was a prisoner.
She stood and cautiously walked over to the door, and a black interface built into the wall formed into a purple hologram with the Ethereal glyph for 'close' on it. Or at least she was fairly sure that it was; she hadn't picked up as much on Ethereal Script as the Commander, though he'd had that knowledge burned into his mind. She placed a hand over it, and allowed some psionic energy to be released. The glyph changed and the door slid up soundlessly.
So she technically wasn't trapped. It was something, she supposed.
Quickly reversing it, she took a moment to look around at the rest of the room. The walls looked exceptionally odd to her; black, but almost transparent in a way. They seemed to be segmented into the wall; squares, circles, and other shapes' just faint outlines adorning them. Furrowing her eyebrows, she walked over to one of the walls to take a closer look.
Notably, it actually seemed to be glass, or some other transparent material that overlaid the black metal walls. That would explain it, though it didn't explain why it was even there in the first place. Some of the shapes didn't seem to be flush, especially with odder shapes, so she tried prying it with one of her fingers.
To her surprise, the piece popped out with ease and she stood with a small cube in her palm. She brought it up to her eye, trying to see if there was something special about it, but she couldn't see anything other than a small transparent cube. She slowly moved the piece back over to where it had been attached, and sure enough, once it was close, it was pulled back into its original place, like a magnet.
Hmm. Was it supposed to be some kind of Ethereal art? She couldn't see any other practical purpose for that kind of design. It extended as far as she could see; every wall and even the ceilings were designed in that way. The ceiling itself was high and sloped, but definitely not angular. She also realized at that point there was no obvious light source, but everything could be seen clearly.
There was a slight purple tint to everything, so perhaps there was a kind of psionic lighting that was worked into the room in some way? It ultimately wasn't important; what she needed to do now was figure out what to do next. Unfortunately, she suspected her options were going to be limited. Someone was going to check on her soon, and she doubted escape was going to be possible.
As she thought that, she looked around for any cameras or security devices. Nothing was spotted along the smooth walls. Of course not. They didn't need to resort to that when she was a powerful psion, and they could likely manufacture nanotech that she couldn't see with the naked eye. They wouldn't have painfully obvious security cameras.
Speaking of her having a powerful psionic signature, she was definitely not the only one. There were at least four, and another which dwarfed all of them. She felt it even without trying. The Imperator, it had to be.
With her survey of the walls complete, she looked at the rest of what resided in the room. On the wall to the right of her bed there appeared to be a…sink of some kind, and the corner had very specific tiling on it. She walked over towards the corner, and another psionic switch appeared, this time with a glyph she didn't recognize instinctively, but had seen in conjunction with other glyphs. It was either wet or water.
She flicked it on and started as transparent fields appeared around and within the corner. Water also fell from openings in the ceiling and she watched as the water began circulating through what she supposed were anti-grav fields of some kind. Their version of a shower? She cautiously stuck her hand in it, and felt no resistance as warm water soon ran over it before landing on the ground in slow motion.
Neat.
She didn't have the urge to take a shower right now, especially when there was a good chance that someone was watching her. Given that the Imperator had presumably watched her and Creed have sex, she wouldn't have put it past him to watch her take a shower.
Sadness washed over her at that. Creed…he wasn't going to take what had happened well. He was alive, but both of them knew that they probably wouldn't see each other again. She did take some solace in the fact that he was probably already planning a rescue, because that was about all he could do right now.
She was going to have to be very careful if she wanted to get out of this alive.
Out of curiosity she went to the sink to see if it worked the same way. The same symbol from the shower appeared once more and she flicked it on. The black metal shaped into a bowl hummed and the rim of it shimmered in an anti-grav field. A small but steady stream of water shot into the bowl and acted much like the shower had; slowly falling into the drain. She stuck her hands in, and had to admit that the sensation was strange, but not unpleasant.
She could manipulate that globs of water around, and it didn't so much splash as mold to her hand when it hit. It was almost fun to reach for a stream of water that was falling and literally lift it back up before it fell back down. As she withdrew her hands from the field, she noticed that they were completely dry when she pulled them out. The field must not have let any excess water leave.
It was rather fancy for such a mundane purpose, but maybe it was normal for Ethereals.
Patricia decided to now turn to what she was probably supposed to have gone to first, and that was the table that held some clothing on it, and on the one right next to it lay her armor. While she was at it, she stepped in front of the nearby mirror to see how she looked.
All things considered, it could have been worse.
She was in a short-sleeve grey shirt-like clothing, with matching pants and nothing on her feet. The material at least felt nice, and her hair and skin looked…normal. Which meant that at some point they'd probably stuck her in one of those showers to get cleaned up. She grimaced at that, but that was honestly not too unexpected. For all she knew it could have been weeks since she was taken.
Patricia turned towards the tables and first moved to inspect her armor. She wasn't sure if it was a taunt or not, since they wouldn't offer this unless it would be of no use to her. But from what she could tell, it was definitely her armor, scratches and all. It had definitely been cleaned up, since there was no dirt or mud on the boots or leg armor, and the pieces had a dull sheen to them.
The undersuit had also clearly been washed, and laid alongside the armor pieces. Everything seemed present and intact, including her helmet. Even the XCOM symbol was still displayed on the chest, as well as the flag of Britain. It was nice of them to leave it intact for her, so she had to give them some credit.
She moved over to the second table which had attire that was probably more appropriate for the situation. The closest thing she could compare it to was a dress uniform. All the pieces were white, with complex gold embroidery throughout it weaved into some objectively beautiful patterns. She picked up the main piece, a long-sleeved garment with the gold embroidery leading to the golden outline of an Ethereal – almost comparable to a stick figure.
The material was exceptionally soft, more so than anything she had ever felt before. She unfortunately couldn't begin to guess what it was, but she at least wanted to wear it at some point. Accompanying the main torso piece were pants, socks, a pair of similarly white and low boots, and gloves.
The other final part was a cape-like piece of material that was designed in such a way that she would have to place her arms through the respective openings, and then hook it into the main torso piece. The color scheme was inverse of the main uniform; golden with white embroidery that simply formed a larger Ethereal symbol like the one on the chest.
She really did not know what the point of it was. It was more akin to something like what royalty would wear, not military leaders or people going into combat. True, it certainly looked impressive, but it still seemed too ornate for casually wearing around.
With that said, she did have to at least see how it felt.
It took her a few minutes to take off what she was currently wearing, and then get into the white uniform provided. Even as she was putting it on she had to admit that she definitely hadn't worn anything more comfortable. She didn't feel warmer than usual either, and her hands didn't feel sweaty in the gloves yet, which was a welcome surprise.
The cape thing wasn't hard to put on either, and after walking around some, it actually didn't seem to really interfere in her movement. It reached down to just above her boots, slightly below her knees. Fairly standard, but she doubted she would notice it was there unless she was moving very fast, and even then she would want to be sure.
She stepped in front of the mirror to see how she looked.
Honestly, she thought it fit her very well. She looked like she stepped off the set of a Disney movie, but that was certainly not a bad comparison. While unnecessarily ornate, it did look good on her. If she could lose the quite blatant Ethereal symbol in the chest, she might actually consider wearing it like the Imperator clearly wanted her to.
Sadly, she wasn't a princess. She was a soldier, and when she met the Imperator it would be in her armor.
She then, with some regret, stripped out of the uniform and fell back into the familiar process of donning her armor. It was more difficult without help, but doable. It wasn't like she was pressed for time. At least in her armor she felt some sense of protection and durability. That uniform was comfortable, but soft.
Once donned, she flipped the helmet in her hands, wondering what to do next. It could be hours until she received someone, or they might show in a few minutes. She obviously had the ability to leave her room, so was she expected to just start wandering around?
That did not seem like a good idea. If the Imperator wanted to speak to her, she wasn't going to waste her time possibly wandering to her death. Not that she felt that was an actual concern; the Imperator had probably issued standing orders to not harm her. And with at least some very powerful psions nearby, she could probably be subdued if she decided to be unruly.
She didn't really plan to be that way. Violence was going to do nothing except worsen her situation.
Patricia waited there for some time, just thinking about her situation and all the possible ways this could go. The Imperator was almost certainly going to try and convince her of something, and she didn't necessarily believe it was going to be as simple as "Join me or die." That wouldn't fit with how he'd operated so far. Going so far as to abduct her was surprising, and did indicate that something had happened to make him take such a drastic step.
It was probably going to come down to a choice, or series of choices. He seemed to like that. Even something as simple as choosing what she was going to wear was definitely some kind of choice, though maybe one with meanings not as obvious as it seemed. Context changed, and logical arguments could be used for wearing whatever she wanted.
Maybe she was overthinking it.
A knock distracted her. She glanced up to the door and narrowed her eyes. There was a psion on the other side; a powerful one, judging from the light probing she'd just done. No penetration, and they had extremely powerful defenses. "Come in." She didn't know if the door could even be opened from the other side, but figured that they would have overrides anyway.
She was expecting an Ethereal to walk through, probably one of the Guardians or if she was unlucky, the Overmind.
The shield dissipated and door slid aside, and to her surprise a Human walked through.
Patricia blinked in shock as she took in the man before her. Although 'man' may have been generous because the Human before her looked…young. He couldn't have been any older than twenty, if that. His Hispanic features narrowed down where he could be from, but she knew that looking at the eyes would give her more than his young features would. And the brown eyes of this man were…weary. An odd look for someone like him.
He still gave a brief smile; he likely knew what was going through her head. "Not what you expected?"
The man was wearing a uniform that was very similar to the one she had just rejected. The differences were that this one was black with silver lining, and there were far fewer complex patterns. His cape had no pattern, and also seemed to include a hood that was currently put down. A knife was also strapped to his waist that didn't seem to fit with the rest of his outfit.
"I wasn't expecting another Human," she said, standing. "Much less one who appears to be…free."
He seemed amused at that, and based on his thicker accent assumed that he was from Mexico and not the United States. "Depends on what you define that as. I can wander around here without problems, but I'm not fool enough to try and leave without letting one of the Ethereals know."
"Right." Patricia cocked her head. "And just where are we?"
"I can't give you the exact position," the man answered. "The Imperator likes to keep it moving. But you are now on the Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective."
Aegis had spoken of the Temple Ship, but not many details aside from that it was where the Imperator resided. "I see."
"I doubt it," he shrugged. "I didn't get the name either. But it makes sense to them. It would be more accurate to call it a Shrine or Reflection. You'll see when you walk through the ship."
"Who are you?"
"Ah, right," he nodded, smiling in self-deprecation. "Sorry about that. Nico Murillo, current…" he paused. "…Resident of the Temple Ship. Maybe Ward is a better word."
She didn't recognize the name, but honestly had not expected to. "And were you paid a visit by the Overmind?"
He grew more somber at that. "No, I came of my own volition. An offer was made, and I took it."
Patricia wasn't quite sure what to make of that. "You abandoned Earth? Willingly?"
He sighed at that. "Miss Trask, if you really want to you can hear my life story later. Suffice to say that there is nothing left on Earth for me. And when I say that, I mean it literally. ADVENT was responsible for destroying my family, and the cartels finished the job. I'd prefer not to focus on that right now."
That…would probably do it. She just gave a nod. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Everyone is," he dismissed with a wave. "But that isn't why you're here at this moment."
"You either," she pointed out. "Did the Imperator send you to get me?"
"Sicarius did," he clarified. "I imagine the Imperator told her, yes. I assume they felt it would be better for you to be greeted by me than the Guardians. Under the assumption that you won't do anything foolish, of course."
"No point in it," Patricia agreed. "I don't suppose you know why the Imperator wants me?"
"No," Nico shook his head. "But I do know that you are an important part of his plans. There were debates on when to bring you to him, and I presume that…recent events made him take action. Aegis very nearly caused a rebellion in the Collective, and even now the Battlemaster is trying to repair the damage."
"And has my capture been revealed?"
"Not to my knowledge," Nico answered. "Nothing official from ADVENT or XCOM. I doubt they'd want news that their most public psion had been abducted to be spread."
Not surprising. Patricia set her lips in a thin line. "Very well. No point wasting time, I suppose. Let's go talk to the Imperator."
Nico turned on his heel and motioned her to follow. "This way."
Crew Quarters - The Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective
Unknown Time
They stepped outside her doorway and Patricia once again started in surprise. Directly outside her room were two Mutons. These were surprisingly small, barely taller than her, and there were some clear physical differences between them and standard Mutons. The most obvious was that they were much smaller and slimmer.
They wore pitch black heavy armor, segmented and seemingly powered by an armored elerium core on the upper back. Their wrists held additional weapons; one had what looked like a wrist-mounted plasma weapon, and the other had what looked like a retractable blade. In their hands they held what she presumed were plasma weapons, but were made from black alloys and had no exposed cores. White Plasma weapons, perhaps? They were used by the Phantom Division, and she doubted the Imperator would skimp on the equipment of his own personal army.
Their helmets were extremely similar to the ones she'd seen on the Muton Centurions they had encountered several times; an armored helmet that covered the entirety of the head, with the eyes lit a purple color. But what stood out to her a few moments after starting at them was that…she couldn't touch their minds. At all.
To be more specific…she could locate their minds, but actually attempting to penetrate them was a nigh-impossible task. It was as if someone had encrypted their minds; making them impossible to comprehend, and as a result, manipulate. Nico noticed her looked at them. "Miss Trask, may I introduce you to the Praetorian Guard of the Imperator."
"Welcome, honored guest of the Imperator," the leftmost Praetorian stated, nodding his head towards her. "It is good that you are awake."
She blinked. "You talk?" She knew the Sargons were capable of complex speech, and their voices sounded fairly normal, if deep, but she'd never heard of any other type being able to independently talk.
"Yes, we have an increased mental capacity compared to our lesser brethren," the second Praetorian explained without malice. "We expect this is a surprise. Our kind are not like the others of our species; we are their future under the Imperator."
"I don't know the full details," Nico said, walking up to her. "But the Praetorian Guard is known to most of the Collective. However, most believe that they are the result of the Sargon and Elite units, or at least a more powerful Elite. That, from what I understand, isn't true." He waved a gloved hand to the Mutons. "The Praetorians were the first. The Sargons and Elites were offshoots of the Praetorian project. The Ethereals have mastered the Muton genome; anything you hear that indicates otherwise is either disinformation or propaganda."
That was actually major news. But if that were true… "Then why is he using downgrades?" She wondered out loud. "Why not just use Praetorians exclusively? Hell, even Elites or Sargons would be fine."
Nico began walking down the hallway and she joined him, while the two Praetorians followed a short distance behind them. "I've wondered that myself," Nico admitted. "I suspect it has to do with time and cost. Praetorians are not cheap or easy to grow. Still, the Ethereals are not strapped for resources. Perhaps you can ask him that."
"I'll do that," she muttered, glancing behind them. "From what Aegis said, I thought they'd be taller."
"Oh, don't worry," Nico grinned. "You haven't seen the big ones yet. Revelean specifically made their size modifiable, largely because, while a massive Battlemaster-size unit is intimidating and powerful, it is not useful in small or confined spaces. Versatility is key in the Praetorian Guard."
Already she was working out how this was going to affect the war. These appeared to be the future the Imperator was moving towards, and Mutons with the intellectual capabilities of a Sargon were something Humanity was not prepared for. They would adapt, as they always did, but this would be a more difficult challenge to overcome.
"What's wrong with their minds?" She asked. "I mean, you are-"
"A telepath, yes," he acknowledged. "I don't know, honestly. I think it's a kind of mental conditioning. I don't know for sure though, I've never felt anything like their minds. Neither have you, I guess."
"No," she shook her head. "It's like the brain was encrypted."
"That…is a better analogy than what I always compared it to," Nico said slowly.
"And what was that?"
He gave an embarrassed shrug. "A pile of shredded paper."
Patricia almost chuckled at that. Nico motioned ahead. "Here we are; the next room has the reason why they call this the Temple Ship." They stepped into a rectangular room filled with holographic terminals, stands, and pedestals filled with various things. But what immediately caught her attention was the walls and ceiling.
"Wow."
The entire room was a cross between a mural and stained glass art. She now knew what the transparent cubes on the ships walls were for. Depicted on the walls was some kind of battle, with two sides. One half of the room was a battle on the grounds of some planet, and the other side was depicting the battle in space.
In the center of the ceiling, where both sides met, was an ornate Ethereal that she presumed was the Imperator. He was larger than everything else, and outlined in purple and white as an almost god-like figure. The arms were stretched to the enemies depicted; Director Flagships in space and the hordes of Synthesized on the ground, all of whom were either destroyed or dying.
The entire piece of art was stunning. "Impressive, isn't it?" Nico nodded. "And this isn't the only one on this ship. Right now you are also standing in the Archives of History, one of the many areas of the Temple Ship maintained by-" He blinked. "Well, I suppose he is here now."
Patricia turned to see an Ethereal she didn't recognize approach. Compared to most Ethereals he dressed deceptively simple. All he wore was a grey robe with orange highlights, almost directly comparable to the Overmind's. However, he had no hood and didn't bother to obscure his face at all. His glowing orange eyes seemed brighter compared to the admittedly few Ethereals she'd seen unmasked.
"Miss Trask, this is Archivist Cogitian, of the Ethereal Collective," Nico introduced. "And responsible for the art you see before you."
"The First of the Awakened Humans," he said in near awe, his voice sounding more energetic than most Ethereals she listened to, who seemed to prefer more methodical speech patterns. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Putting the unfortunate circumstances to the side, I am pleased you are here with us now."
Patricia crossed her arms while narrowing her eyes. "I don't plan on staying, if I can help it. No offense."
"I suppose you cannot be blamed for that." Cogitian tapped a spindly finger to his neck. "Regardless, should you leave I would wish the opportunity to speak to you. Our records on your species would not be fully complete without the input of the first Human Psion."
"Maybe," she said noncommittally. "So…you're the record keeper?"
She sensed some exasperation coming from the Ethereal at that. "If you want to use such a…limiting term. I am a record keeper, historian, storyteller, and artist all at the same time. I record the stories of the Andromedons, Sectoids, Vitakara, Mutons, Ethereals, and even your own species. No matter what the galaxy has in store, it will be a lesser place if the stories of these species were to never be observed, recorded, and completed."
His goals sounded similar to those of EXALT's Chronicler, though now that they knew he was working for a Sovereign One, that wasn't too comforting. As far as Ethereals went, he seemed more…benign, which was largely how Aegis had described him. Cogitian fulfilled a specific purpose for the Imperator, even if he didn't necessarily agree.
He was apparently one of the older Ethereals as well, not nearly as old as the Overmind, but maybe second in age. While she was here, she might as well see what his answer to one of her questions was. "Why is this called the Temple Ship? As far as I know Ethereals aren't religious."
Cogitian actually laughed. "Oh, they most certainly were." He paused. "Well, not as you Humans define religion, but any Ethereal who insists that we completely rejected the concept of higher powers is either ignorant, or wishes to fit history to their views. It is a long and complicated subject, suffice to say that-"
He looked towards them. "Right, the Temple Ship. That is the closest translation to your own language. One thing for you to understand about the Temple Ships is that they were not used primarily for…combat." He said the word with some disgust. "Yes, they were in the War, but they were ships of prestige and command, only given to the most acclaimed of the Empire. They are monuments to their lives and achievements." He pointed with one hand above. "And so I continue the tradition in my own way. I tell the story and life of the Imperator, and will continue to do so until the end of time, or he perishes."
He glanced around the room. "However, this particular Temple Ship has needed to adapt for the times. It holds more than the story of the Imperator, but the last remaining histories of the Ethereal Empire and the Synthesized War. There is much that is irreplaceable here…ah, if you wish I could certainly share, but I suspect that you need to move on. The Imperator certainly wishes to speak to you, after all."
Nico gave a short bow. "Your time is appreciated, Archivist. I hope both of us will be able to speak again soon."
"Good luck," Patricia simply said. "I hope you preserve this knowledge. Regardless of which side we fall on, forgetting it benefits no one."
"Indeed," Cogitian agreed. "A sadly controversial topic among some circles."
With that, Patricia followed Nico into another hallway, with their Praetorian guards following close behind. "Interesting alien," Patricia commented. "Aegis seemed to be right about him."
"He definitely is," Nico said wistfully. "Talking to him is like…having every secret of the galaxy just readily available. The Temple Ship is the only place where there are no secrets, no classifications, just knowledge. Some of what Sicarius has pointed out to me is…disturbing in its implications." He shook his head. "The galaxy is inherently bent towards war. Everything I have seen shows that. And I thought Humans were violent…" he gave a sad chuckle.
Patricia felt he was trying to make a point, but she wasn't sure what it could be. "Violence is sometimes that quickest path to results. It's a part of life. I'd be surprised if other species didn't have violent streaks."
"Mmm," Nico seemed like he was going to say more, but then motioned ahead. "Well, something to discuss later. Assuming you're still around. You wanted to see one of the bigger Praetorians, right? There are a couple stationed in the Grand Commons."
They stepped into one of the largest parts of the Temple Ship so far; a massive area with an arched ceiling that reminded her of an arena. Interspersed throughout the area were tables and benches, with some alien plant life spread around. Stairs led to an upper floor, and at the top of the stairs were the largest Mutons she had ever seen.
They were at least as tall as the Battlemaster, and much, much thicker. Their armor was probably thicker than some tanks, and their weapons would be hard to fit on aircraft. Appearance-wise they looked identical to their smaller Praetorian brothers, just scaled up to an absurd size. These made Elites look small by comparison.
XCOM would have trouble taking that down, and a quick probe confirmed their minds were similarly scrambled.
"Are they smart too?" She asked.
"Yes," Nico confirmed, scratching his chin. "Arguably more so since their brains are bigger. The Imperator has envisioned them as the commanders in a ground force because of this. They are also the ones who speak most to Cogitian, make of that what you will."
The thought of a Muton of any kind holding a meaningful conversation with anyone was an utterly alien concept. There were so many questions as to what the Imperator, or Ethereals in general, were really thinking. They weren't idiots, that much was clear, but they seemed to have very little clue how to actually make decisions that made sense, leverage their advantages, or provide any kind of leadership.
How could a species so advanced be so incredibly mismanaged?
Or was it intentional and part of a plan she couldn't see?
"Patricia Trask."
She turned around to see both of the Guardians walking towards her. While they didn't look like they were about to attack her, she didn't fail to notice that at least one of their hands were resting on their Sabers. They were prepared if she did anything, and could imagine why they were here at all. "Hello," she sighed. "I want you to know I'm not here because I want to be."
"Your circumstances are known to us," the First Guardian stated. "We are not concerned about you. You have no power in the Temple Ship of the Imperator."
She arched an eyebrow. "Really."
She was moderately tempted to test that, but figured that wouldn't go over well. Instead, she crossed her arms. "Don't worry, I don't plan to cause trouble. I doubt I would be able to do anything anyway. Besides, dying is not something I plan on doing here."
The Second Guardian seemed to appraise her. "You are calm for one in the seat of the most powerful being in the Collective."
"And what good is fear going to do me?" She asked, sighing. "Think. If the Imperator wanted to kill me, I wouldn't be here, would I? And since he wanted to talk, and seems to like talking with me anyway, he's probably more interested in getting my cooperation than coercing me through…well, anything else. Take your pick."
Nico frowned. "Wait, you've spoken with the Imperator? Before this?"
"Oh yeah," she glanced over at him. "I'm guessing he didn't tell you this?"
"Not to me," Nico said slowly. "In which case…some things make sense."
"You are dismissed, Human of Sicarius," the First Guardian stated towards Nico, stepping forward. "We will escort Patricia to the Imperator."
Nico rolled his eyes. "I really wish you wouldn't call me that. I'm not her slave."
Patricia did have to admire the nerve of doing that in front of any Ethereal, much less the Guardians. "I would prefer he accompany us," she said. "He's been a useful guide."
"You do not have authority to make such a decision," the Seconds Guardian said slowly. "You tread thinly. As do you, Human of Sicarius."
"And what are you going to do?" Nico asked. "Kill me? Or her?" He nodded towards Patricia. "Accompany-" He suddenly stopped speaking, moving a gloved hand to his throat as he realized what was happening. Patricia wasn't sure if she should intervene or not. Not that she necessarily wanted to choose a side, but at least Nico had been cordial to her.
She narrowed her eyes and concentrated towards the Second Guardian and sent the equivalent of a tidal wave of telepathic attacks towards her. They didn't penetrate, but they did disrupt her. "You will regret this, Trask," she growled as the orange-yellow of her Saber appeared, while Nico collapsed to the ground. "The Imperator will understand if your wings are clipped."
Patricia stepped back, though noticed the First Guardian not making any move. "Enough," he said. "This bickering is beneath us. You should not have done that." Patricia sensed that the words were not directed to her, but the Second Guardian.
The Guardian Saber flew out of her hand, deactivating and landed in the outstretched palm of another Ethereal that Patricia had only heard of. "You are dismissed in the name of the Imperator," Sicarius stated, her voice melodical, but flat and lacking the layers of Ethereal speech. The thing that stood out about Sicarius was that she was much smaller than the average Ethereal, barely over six feet. Her featureless orb of a helmet was also eye-catching.
She knelt down and helped a recovering Nico rise to his feet. "He is disappointed with you, Second Guardian," Sicarius growled, flicking the Saber back to the Guardian. "Should you touch him again, there will be consequences. Go."
The Guardians quickly departed, with the Second Guardian clearly embarrassed at the incident. Not knowing what else to do, she walked over to the pair. "You attempted to help him," Sicarius said, turning her eyeless helm to her own face. "Why?"
"What she did was not deserved," Patricia shrugged. "He has been helpful to me, and as pleasant as you can be here. What the Second Guardian did was an abuse of her power."
"I didn't expect she'd do that," Nico wheezed. "I knew she didn't really like me, but that's new. But thanks, Miss Trask."
"Just Patricia," she said, looking to the small Ethereal. "I guess you'll be the one taking me to the Imperator? I do think it'd be best to get this done before I end up in the middle of another fight."
"Yes, I will take you to him," Sicarius confirmed, checking to make sure Nico was alright. "Are you recovered, Nico?"
"Well enough," he said, coughing. "Let's go."
The Throne Room of the Imperator – The Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective
Unknown Time
Patricia felt the Imperator the closer they got to him. It was an intense rapture that seemed to make everything crisper, charged; it was an aura that was both empowering and terrifying in its intensity. She actually had to strengthen her telepathic barriers to prevent herself from just stopping and basking in the feeling, which would likely make her look like an idiot.
"You get used to it eventually," Nico commented without looking at her. "But it never becomes stale, if you know what I mean."
She just nodded, as they reached a flight of stairs that led to an oversized door that was at least twenty feet tall. "He is within the Throne Room," Sicarius said quietly. "Go forth. He will speak to you in there. We are not required."
Patricia looked at the foreboding door ahead and steeled herself for whatever was going to happen. "Alright then." She glanced behind her. "Thank you, Nico. In case I don't see you again." He gave her an acknowledging nod, and she began moving up the stairs until she was in front of the door, which slid aside the closer she got.
She couldn't see too well what was inside, but the moment she stepped through, the door closed behind her. Patricia stood there for a few moments to take in the so-called "Throne Room". To her, it immediately struck her as a flat, empty room. The floors were the same obsidian metal and extended incredibly far. The entire room seemed to be about the size of a stadium.
She looked up to see the ceiling which extended far above her, showing the stars. She could tell that it was a video projection and not glass, given the various unnatural angles on it, but it was still a striking sight, and then she also noticed that it extended down the walls as well. Almost as if she was standing in space itself.
Ethereals knew how to design ships that left an impression, she couldn't deny that.
"Welcome, Patricia Trask."
The voice was that of the Imperator, but with the full power and authority behind it that telepathic projections could simply not convey accurately. In the distance she saw an elevated platform with stairs all around it, supporting a chair that a massive Ethereal was sitting on. Yet the voice seemed to come from all around her; each syllable an unconscious telepathic command that was already pushing against her defenses. It was deep, haunting, commanding, and impossible to forget.
She walked forward.
The closer she got, the clearer the Ethereal became. Once she reached a certain distance, the Imperator raised a hand, and she unconsciously stopped. The Imperator then rose from his throne, and slowly descended down the massive steps. Once on the ground opposite her, she got her first true look at the Imperator.
Everything about him was tailored to maximize his command and awe. His size dwarfed that of the Battlemaster; he must have been close to fifteen feet high, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him. He wore glistening silver armor, with golden patterns and ornate glyphs sculpted into the armor itself. His helm took a more upside-down triangular design, with the thin eye slits giving off a warm orange glow. A golden cape fell from his shoulders, just falling to the ankles of his armored boots.
His lower two hands were clasped behind his back, while the upper two were hanging idly by his sides. He appeared to have no weapons attached to his belt, but with how powerful he was, she didn't think he needed any. She tried taking a closer look at the patterns on his armor, and was quite surprised to see what looked like a Director Flagship, and almost a perfect replica of the emblem Abby had described on the Chronicler's armor.
They looked disturbingly similar.
Why would he have both of those symbols?
"Greetings, Imperator," she said, her voice sounding flat and empty compared to his. "Not exactly how I imagined we'd meet in person, but I suppose you wanted to avoid a fight."
"There is a very limited number of those who could challenge me and live," the Imperator rumbled. "Humans are not one of them."
"I suspect we'll find out one way or another eventually," Patricia crossed her arms. "I suppose you have a good reason for abducting me?"
"Indeed," the Imperator said, motioning with one of his hands to follow him. "Come with me. I want to show you something." Patricia followed him as they climbed the steps to his throne, each step nearly coming up to her knees. At the top Patricia could see nearly the entire room, and it was a nice view. "I do not have this for show," the Imperator continued, sitting down. "I designed it for a purpose."
He pushed something on his throne and the room flashed as holograms formed throughout the room, coalescing into a rough approximation of the Milky Way. "The scale of the galaxy is difficult to comprehend in the abstract," the Imperator said, motioning outward. "Even this only slightly rectified the problem, but it serves as an important means of visualization. It allows planning, exploration, and observation.
The mass of stars dissipated, only to reform into a much smaller section of the galaxy, a few hundred stars it looked like, and it was broken into various chunks, outlined by yellow, white, and blue. "This is the current territory of the Ethereal Collective," he explained. "With the respective control that the Andromedon Federation, Greater Hive Commanders, and Aui'Vitakar have. Even now it continues to expand, slowly but surely."
He looked down imposingly at her. "And yet, it is not enough. It is little compared to the threats posed in this galaxy. And in the end, territory does not equal power. It is a tool in the unseen war all species are a part of."
"I suppose you're going to explain that?" She asked.
"Of course," he confirmed. "But I would like to know what Aegis has said about me. Why he…defected."
She grunted. "I would have thought you'd read my mind to get that answer."
"To what end?" He asked. "I find little enjoyment in learning of the mundane details of lives. Most are inclined to distrust you if they know you will violate their minds. I see little point in doing so unless there is a greater purpose."
A policy Patricia had to agree with, since it was fairly similar to her own. "He says that you've changed from their original goal. That you're no longer interested in fighting the Synthesized; that you've become obsessed with the Sovereign Ones and seem to be planning to turn on them."
"I see." The Imperator stood and walked down the steps to the ground floor, with Patricia following him. "A vast oversimplification, but not entirely inaccurate. Since awakening…I have learned much about this galaxy. I spent a decade simply reviewing the Synthesized War, I planned for decades more how to fight them. I accepted the help of the Sovereign Ones at first, initially pleased we were not the only survivors. But the more I learned, the more things have changed."
"How?"
"The Synthesized are not an unthinking horde; they manipulated the Empire into fighting exactly how they wished us to," the Imperator explained. "They sent hordes of poorly made constructs to fight on our planets, and we sent our legions to fight them. We killed billions. They killed thousands. An acceptable trade, as every Ethereal that fell could not be easily replaced. They do not care about time or speed. They knew how we would respond, and they drained our Empire of our soldiers over a war of centuries."
"Couldn't it have been luck?" Patricia asked. "Even if their tactics were simple, that doesn't mean they were intentional."
"Most believed that initially," the Imperator said, beginning to pace around her. "But the creation of the Imperators changed that. We assumed control of the Empire; we saw the pointlessness of fighting the hordes, and began targeting the only things that mattered – the Flagships. We didn't waste time on unthinking masses; we sacrificed planets to kill even a few of the Flagships. We brought the Empire back from a sure defeat. And that was when we learned how much the Synthesized had been holding back."
Patricia furrowed her eyebrows. "I feel Aegis would have mentioned something like this."
"His view was limited to where he fought," the Imperator responded flatly. "He never participated in galactic strategy. He never saw the larger plan, nor do I think he could truly comprehend or accept that the Empire had been tricked by machines." He motioned to himself. "Imperators are not like other Ethereals. We did not think like traditional Ethereals. We grew up without the traditions, stigmas and drawbacks of the Empire."
Patricia nodded. "So what happened?"
"The front line of the war became the Imperators," he answered. "The Synthesized began targeting us much like we had targeted the Flagships. They reduced their useless husks, and began deploying soldiers that were beyond our own in terms of power and intellect. Imperators began dying from assassinations, ambushes, and freak accidents. They were predicting everything we could do; our psionics stopped working against their most powerful soldiers."
He paused. "Within two years a quarter of the living Imperators had died. That was when I determined the war was lost. Perhaps if we had been at the beginning, we would emerge victorious, but it was too late. The Empire had condemned itself long before we had arrived, and nothing could be done to change it."
There was some silence for a few moments. "If that's the case, then why would you not want to prepare?"
"There is a difference between preparing and prioritizing," the Imperator answered, stopping and looking directly down at her. "One question that few ask is where the Synthesized came from. They are not natural, that is clear. But even if they are, no one has an answer. But I am certain I have, and they are merely the symptom of a much more prevalent threat."
Patricia swallowed. "And what is that?"
"That the ones who created the Synthesized still exist, and they are the Sovereign Ones."
She had suspected he was leading to this. "Perhaps it was a mistake?" She asked after a few moments. "I doubt they…intended this."
The Imperator rumbled, likely an approximation of a chuckle or laugh. "Patricia, the creation of the Synthesized is something that makes perfect sense when you understand the context the Sovereign Ones have operated in since the beginning of their existence. The Synthesized operate exactly how their creator intended."
"Right." Patricia said slowly. "So since you know…what are the Sovereign Ones? What is their story?"
"A long and violent one," the Imperator said wistfully. "I have pieced this together from observation, interaction, and looking at history itself. The Sovereign Ones, as they contacted us soon after we awakened, were and continue to be helpful. But they have lied to me. They do not answer about the Synthesized, only that they are an enemy. They say they are many, but I am quite certain that there is only one Sovereign One assisting the Collective."
"Just one?"
"Yes," the Imperator sounded almost sad. "In a calculated risk, I allowed one of my Ethereals to become a dedicated voice. She is now…linked to the Sovereign One. He shares secrets with her; reveals things in their communications. I listen to them, I learn, I know there is only one Sovereign One, and his plans are far beyond that of the Synthesized." The Imperator trailed off.
"I initially wanted to sever any kind of contact, but making an enemy this potentially powerful was not something to risk. So instead I began exploring, gathering information. Going to places the Sovereign One had warned us away from, or only partially following suggestions."
Patricia thought. "Has it told you its name?"
"Only once, as Mosrimor," the Imperator answered. "Sovereign Ones do not have long names, and sometimes they seem to take titles instead. Do you wonder, Patricia, why I have kept to the edge of the galaxy and not moved further in?"
"Power consolidation," she guessed. "And they are more powerful than you are."
"One reason," he acknowledged. "But because of what I uncovered in the initial exploration of the inner galaxy. Many of the species are under the influence of Sovereigns; they use them as a proxy to explore, expand, and wage war. We are all pawns on their galactic game of conquest. Mosrimor does not intend for the Ethereal Collective to fight the Synthesized; he plans for us to conquer the puppet species and kill their Sovereign masters."
At that moment Patricia felt she was now extremely in over her head. The implications of that were…staggering. "So…the Sovereign Ones are fighting each other?"
"I have seen much in support, and little to disprove it," the Imperator nodded. "The galaxy is a battleground that takes place over millennia. Species are shaped, rise, and fall; they adapt, evolve, and advance at the hands of a Sovereign master. They fight in proxy wars in a never-ending conflict of dominance in this galaxy. I can only speculate the role the Synthesized play in this, but I believe it is a timer of sorts. Something which comes to set everything back to the beginning. Perhaps there is another Sovereign One behind it, perhaps it is from another galaxy; but it is no accident or natural development."
There was something that didn't make sense. "Even if that's true, why would they not just fight the Synthesized together and then go back to killing each other?"
"Because you seem to think that they actually care about the Synthesized," the Imperator said, audibly amused. "The only threat they ultimately posed was to their pawn species. The Sovereign Ones are cowards who hide and manipulate from afar. They are content to wage endless war; time has no meaning to them."
He paused. "However, I believe there is a better explanation. If they were to band together, it would mean that one of them might actually win. The conclusion of their conflict is the rule of one Sovereign One in this galaxy. The Synthesized act as a…reset button. One which they usually do not contest, as their proxies are so weakened by conflict with each other that they are crushed by the Synthesized…" he trailed off. "This is speculation on my part, as I have limited first-hand knowledge, but it is an educated guess."
"I suppose the next question is…was your species a proxy?" She asked. "Aegis said there were almost no major conflicts."
"I do not know." He answered heavily. "There was always the question of who engineered us. That was unquestionably a Sovereign One…but I do not know why there was not a more direct hand taken. Perhaps we were an experiment. Perhaps the Sovereign who created us was killed. Perhaps we were manipulated in other ways. Our isolationism. Our superiority. Perhaps they were weaknesses that the Sovereign Ones exploited by never forcing us to advance. It will likely remain an unsolved mystery."
"So that was when you started changing the direction of the Collective," Patricia realized, and honestly it made some sense. "But why didn't you tell the others? Aegis would have likely understood."
"Two reasons," the Imperator raised a finger. "Too many who knew would have possibly turned Mosrimor against us, and we would have fought a destructive war we might not have won. And second…because some would not believe it is necessary. They would still wish to treat a Sovereign One as an ally, a means to an end. That, if I have learned anything, does not work. That, is what they want us to think. They seed us with technology, make us reliant on them, they slowly and subtly indoctrinate us with communication, until we are willing pawns." The hand closed to a fist. "I will not allow my species to be turned into a puppet for such a being."
"That is…understandable," she nodded slowly. "That certainly puts the Chronicler in a different light."
"Indeed, and I will get to that," the Imperator nodded. "But I have used this knowledge. I have sought out uncorrupted species. Ones who were independent and free of the control of the Sovereign ones. The Sectoids, Andromedons, Vitakara, and Mutons were all free of the influence, and I have kept a careful watch on all Sovereign tech to ensure that it doesn't influence us unknowingly."
"Hasn't Mosrimor figured out what you're doing…" Patricia paused. "And speaking of that, what do you plan to do for him?"
"He is arrogant, like all Sovereign Ones," the Imperator said. "They do not measure time like we do. Barely a moment has passed for him; mere decades. He does not care. Yet. He could never conceive of an alien turning on him, and my appeasements have made him lax. But as for my plans…well, he is not the only one I have found."
"Another?" Patricia asked. "Isn't that…dangerous? Especially since they like to fight each other?"
"This is a slightly different situation," the Imperator explained. "The Creator was…contacted by something from what you call the Psionosphere. Something that should be impossible, but nonetheless exists. I do not know the details, except that this being is extremely powerful, a former Sovereign One, and trapped."
She imagined a smile under his helmet. "At this moment, the Creator is working to allow him to…cross over. Unfortunately for him, I have also informed Mosrimor about this, and he has been extraordinarily helpful in infecting her Blacksite with specially designed nanotech; a specialty of his, I presume. He has fought the "Bringer," as he was known before, and knows how to subdue him. The nanotech will slave him to the owner, and he believes I have given him control over him."
"But you have the control," Patricia noted slowly.
"Correct," the Imperator nodded. "And when the Bringer crosses over, I will send him to kill Mosrimor, and he will serve as an excellent tool against the other Sovereign Ones, and when the Synthesized are defeated, he will be sent to the center of the galaxy to die in the black holes that inhabit it."
"Assuming it goes according to plan," Patricia noted.
"I have taken appropriate precautions," the Imperator said. "And if it doesn't work…I have contingencies. I always assume that something will go wrong, and what can be done to prevent it. Pitting Sovereign Ones against each other is risky, but risks are needed when the stakes are the galaxy itself."
He paused, looking at her for a few moments. "You are such a risk now. Your species is. But it is one worth taking. You want to know, don't you. Why we are attacking you; why we have taken such steps."
"Yes."
"There are several reasons I am interested in your species," he began. "You are one of the few who can use the Gift, or psionics. More than that, you are capable of great power with it, far more than the Sectoids ever could be. Your species also has a large portion who are sensitive, and you have already realized the power that gives your military. But that is not the main reason, or even a largely important one."
"Then what is?"
"Consider the species in the Collective," the Imperator said. "Each one serves a purpose, yet they also have drawbacks. I initially believed that these weaknesses could be phased out or mitigated but that has so far been…inaccurate. The Sectoids, they were the first…failure, I suppose. They are brilliant scientists, with a mastery over genetics that one day could rival our own."
His hand lowered to the side. "Yet they are cold, empty; they cannot comprehend the concepts of empathy or friendship. They are a frail species who are cowards when faced with events outside what they plan for. This has made them…cruel, and ultimately of limited use to me. They are a tool, but they cannot ever be more than such."
"But have you actually made efforts to change them?" Patricia asked. "Or simply allowed them to develop?"
"I am hesitant to change the nature of a sapient species now," the Imperator explained. "If I take such a step, we are no better than the Sovereign Ones. I am not interested in puppets, Patricia. I want allies, I want unity, and I want for each species to be responsible for their own achievements. Yet you are correct in that I have been too lax. My kind has been lax in our responsibility in guiding and leading."
"And why is that?" She asked.
"Ethereals, by our nature, are not leaders," the Imperator made a noise very similar to a sigh. "We cannot usually bring ourselves to care about those under us; their concerns rarely seem important. This translates to arrogance and superiority, when in reality it could simply be apathy. There are exceptions. The Battlemaster is one. Quisilia as well. Imperators also lack this limitation, but there is a reason I have been…absent."
Patricia nodded. "Which is?"
"I wanted to see if we would change, or if such would have to be forced," he answered. "I wanted the Ethereals to willingly take a leadership role in the Collective. But I soon saw that we are simply not suited for it, regardless of how much we try. Although I have the capability, I cannot be the leader this Collective ultimately needs."
He shook his head. "The Vitakara could have perhaps worked in our stead. They are intelligent and loyal to us; a rare combination. But the problem is that they are too passive; they cannot use psionics, and they have little ambition. The Andromedons are too focused on the past; of their petty rivalries and wars. They are methodical and brilliant engineers, but they will betray you once they find a better alternative."
He chuckled. "And the Mutons are nothing more than an easily controlled breed. Dangerous in strength and size, but lacking in intellect; the vast majority only suited to fight and die in the name of those who command them. They are naturally incapable of brilliance or independence, and while we can cheat nature, their purpose will never change for us."
A finger pointed at her. "And now that brings us to your species – Humans. The Collective…lacks certain qualities. It is as it sounds – a collection of species unified under the leadership of the Ethereals, but in reality it is three factions constantly spying, undermining, and expanding on their own, while little true leadership is done. The Battlemaster can only do so much."
He paused. "I believe that Humans could serve as the leaders of the Collective. Your kind are intelligent, charismatic, ruthless when needed and understand the more nuanced emotions Andromedons and Sectoids do not. You have proven you can adapt and advanced despite the odds being against you. Your species will be what holds the Collective together, and we will advise when requested. That is the future I see for your species. You will not win the war, but I have no intention of wasting your potential."
Patricia knew it sounded good, but if that was the case… "Then why did you invade us in the first place? Any chance you would have had to bring us in peacefully is gone. ADVENT isn't going to fall or surrender peacefully."
He laughed again. "Now, when did I say I wanted ADVENT to fail?"
She blinked. "Because with ADVENT, Humanity will never become part of the Collective. You don't have a choice."
"Do I?" He was amused. "ADVENT is performing exactly how I wished it too. Why do you think they have been allowed to expand so quickly? Why I have not taken opportunities to lessen their reach? Why I have simply not ordered Saudia be assassinated? I ignored Canada for a reason; just as I ignored the Middle East. The attack on France drove more countries into ADVENT. The attacks on Korea and D.C. will do the same. No, Patricia, I do not want ADVENT to fail, I want it to succeed."
Patricia was dumbfounded. "But…why?"
"I have researched your history," he explained, beginning to pace again. "Unification is a dream your species has sought, but never attained. There have always been dissidents, traitors, and fools who sabotage this. I have little interest in assimilating your species and facing dozens of terrorists or rebel groups. Fortunately, ADVENT does not either. They will fully unite your species and crush those who oppose them."
His voice turned thoughtful. "There was a reason that many in ADVENT in positions of power are…driven. Stein; Watkins; Falka; all who would be considered extreme, but fit the mold of ADVENT perfectly. It is a simple matter of making the right people obvious; moving a name further up a list, having someone mention a name in conversation; little details that push specific people forward."
"You controlled them," Patricia said in a mix of awe and horror.
"No," he dismissed. "I simply changed what was seen. In the end, the decisions were made by Saudia, and the Commander; I simply helped choose what they were going to see. It was necessary to ensure the success of ADVENT."
"Even if that's true, you haven't explained how that benefits you," Patricia pointed out. "ADVENT isn't exactly going to be open to that idea, no matter if you subtly 'assisted' them or not."
"I will leave that detail for when the time comes," was all he said. "Suffice that I am confident in it. But you are right in one aspect – why I bothered to invade at all. That you might be able to guess, but first I will go back long before we stepped foot on your planet. In fact, I am the reason your species wasn't wiped out."
Patricia arched an eyebrow. "Explain."
"Mosrimor gave me your world, and suggested that the species could become dangerous and should be removed," he revealed. "This confused me, and by then I had only partially pieced together the story of the Sovereign Ones. I instead sent scouting crafts; many of your UFO abduction stories are based on those expeditions. I saw nothing of interest, nor any reason to kill or stay your species. So for a time I dismissed you – until I was more knowledgeable about the Sovereign Ones. I knew Mosrimor would not have given me that suggestion without a reason. So I decided to find out what that reason was."
He motioned with a lower arm. "I ordered a limited incursion, I wanted to see how your species would react. You formed XCOM and began fighting back; an interesting development, but not the answer I was after. I learned of EXALT and began leveraging them, but I also failed to receive the answer. It was only recently that I obtained it – in the form of the Chronicler."
The Imperator paused. "That is the purpose of the invasion, Patricia. To determine if your species was under the influence of a Sovereign One. I knew that they would be familiar with the tactic if it was true, and they would react swiftly. When this did not happen, I wondered if it would be more subtle; from behind the scenes, hence EXALT. But I saw no influence there, even with what I know of the Chronicler now."
"Do you think we are?"
"No," the Imperator shook his helmet. "You are indeed independent. But I do believe I know what Mosrimor intended for me to do. Your species may not be under its control, but there is a Sovereign One on Earth." One hand curled into a fist. "He is awakened now, and he will likely try and use your species. I do not intend for that to happen. The objective now is to kill or neutralize the Sovereign One on Earth. ADVENT will continue to fight us, but they are no longer my largest concern."
"But why keep this a secret?" Patricia demanded. "This changes everything!"
"Because we are all in a very dangerous game," the Imperator said, almost sadly. "When pitting multiple beings of god-like power against each other, risks cannot be taken. The war provides a useful cover. The world will fall under the control of the Battlemaster, or ADVENT. In the meantime I will hunt and kill the Sovereign One, by leveraging what I can against it. More importantly, if I was to simply reveal the nature of the galaxy, it would escalate to the point where everything would collapse. The Collective would be destroyed, ADVENT would be under a Sovereign One, and everyone else dead or scattered."
"And what happens if the Battlemaster wins?" Patricia asked.
"Then so be it," the Imperator said nonchalantly. "It will not change your role in the Collective. It will simply be the system of government that is different. Every move that is made now is a risk, Patricia, with a misstep ending all I have built. But this is a cycle that has likely gone on for billions of years, and I am going to make an effort to break it."
There was some silence between them.
"So why am I here?" She finally asked.
"Because I want you to help me," he answered. "You are one who can adapt and change based on what you know. You can sense I am not lying. You can see what I intend, and can deduce why I have taken this path. Your purpose is greater than in XCOM; you have the opportunity to help shape a galactic civilization and begin breaking an unfathomably long war."
He lifted a hand. "However, I will not make this decision. You will. If you wish, you can leave. You may return to XCOM and no one will stop you. You can, of course, attempt to warn them of this; spread what I intend. Perhaps they will believe you, perhaps they won't. I cannot see the future, but there was a reason I chose you out of others. Most cannot see past their own problems; others will be like Aegis and believe Sovereign Ones can safely be allies; still more will never forgive the Collective, justified or not."
He lowered the hand. "Or you can stay and assist me in achieving this goal. I have obviously said this to convince you of the necessity and logic of my plans, but I have no interest in an unthinking pawn or puppet. I am not a Sovereign One. Choices are what shape us, and to deny choice is to remove free will. So this is your choice, Patricia Trask, but know that if you leave, this will never be offered again. The next time we will meet, you will die."
Thoughts swirled around in her head. This wasn't a simple yes or no answer anymore; what the Imperator had said changed everything. Would the Commander listen to her? Aegis probably wouldn't, but the Commander…he would say the Imperator was likely lying. Trying to manipulate her. But she could sense everything he was saying was what he believed.
Could she not trust herself?
"You do not have to decide now," the Imperator said. "Stay. Wander. Talk with those around you. Gather information; details if you wish. I am not interested in a snap decision; think on this. You will have to make a choice one day, but for now you can simply consider what I said. And if you still wish to leave, you will be able to do so."
He walked back over to his throne and sat down upon it. "I will be here. You may speak to me when you wish. I have instructed the Guardians and the Praetorian Guard to give you free reign of the ship."
Patricia turned away, too absorbed in thought to even say goodbye. With conflict raging inside her, she settled for simply trying to get some sleep on it.
Maybe when she woke up next time, the right decision would be clearer.
Because right now, she truly did not know.