Reborn as a Spaceship

I let the silence stretch. I had no solution for the problems of this galaxy. I was just a brain in a ship, not some deity capable of rewriting reality. Every judgment I considered carried a cost I wasn't prepared to shoulder. Rule one way, and innocent children become fuel for living metal. Rule another, and the Swarm devours entire civilizations. And that assumed the Old Ones chose not to intervene directly. Even then, something else nagged at me: Why had they brought me here? Was it truly just to judge these species by my own moral standards, or was there something deeper at play?

"No judgment I make today will undo what has been done," I said at last, my voice amplified by the ship's systems, filling the heavy stillness. "No decree can cleanse a history this blood-soaked, nor mend a galaxy fractured by choices made long before any of us drew breath."

I shifted slightly, my newly fashioned holographic avatar feeling heavier, like a mantle draped across my shoulders.

"And yet," I continued softly, "any ruling I pass here could still become meaningless… if the Old Ones decide to act."

A ripple of unease moved through the assembled delegates. Even the Machine God's sphere seemed unsettled, its smooth surface dimming slightly.

I drew a breath I didn't need, feeling the moment crystallize. I had to attempt something bold, hoping the ancient beings were indeed listening, as this mediation was officially sanctioned by the Accord.

"I call upon the Old Ones," I announced steadily. "Let them witness this judgment. Let them speak, if they so choose."

Reality wavered.

They arrived without fanfare, simply materialising as if stepping from behind the curtain of existence itself.

First, the envoy of the Mother emerged as a shifting mass of organic matter, neither purely plant nor animal, yet undeniably alive. Vines, tendrils, and blossoms appeared and disappeared across her form, exuding a deep, warm presence akin to standing at the heart of a primordial forest. The air became rich with the scent of damp earth and fresh rain.

Next appeared the representative of the Harmonics in the form of a mesmerising lattice of perfect geometric forms, angles and curves dancing in impossible synchrony. Tetrahedrons folded gracefully into spheres; spirals unravelled into lines, their patterns singing in silent mathematics. Their presence pressed against the mind, orderly yet almost painfully intricate.

Finally, the Architect emissary appeared not as a figure, but as a seething sphere of raw, energetic light. Its surface rippled continuously with fleeting blueprints and half-realized schematics, radiating relentless analysis and boundless creation.

They arrayed themselves before me, living embodiments of ancient forces that had once shaped the stars themselves.

The assembled delegates recoiled instinctively. Even the Machine God's sphere edged subtly backward.

I forced myself to remain firm. To flinch now would mean surrendering any authority I had.

"You have come," I said respectfully, dipping my avatar's head slightly. "I request your counsel before passing judgment."

The Mother shifted gently, her voice a rich, resonant hum vibrating through the organic mass of her being.

"The struggle," she began, "is the crucible of strength. Through suffering, life earns its survival. The system you witness while harsh and cruel is necessary. Intervention would rob these species of their chance to evolve."

"What if this struggle is beyond them?" I asked sharply.

"Then they shall perish, and new life, one stronger and more capable will take their place," the Mother replied impassively, her tone as cold as I'd anticipated.

The Harmonics shifted rhythmically, cascading through symmetrical patterns. Their layered voice resonated with harmonic precision, almost painfully pure.

"The Swarm destabilises universal balance," they stated. "Its existence fractures frequencies essential to sustaining life. Balance cannot return while it persists. It is an anomaly that is corrupting order, accelerating entropy. It must be excised."

Their argument was clear: morality wasn't the question they only cared for the cosmic equilibrium. The Swarm wasn't evil to them it was only dissonance.

I began formulating another question. Why couldn't we remove the Swarm immediately?—but the Architect interrupted, its glow intensifying as schematics flashed across its surface.

"The Swarm is unique," it stated dispassionately. "A singular organism of integration and replication beyond current understanding. It must be studied. Mastered. Evolved."

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The Architect's voice contained no emotion, only relentless, boundless curiosity. To them, the Swarm wasn't a threat. It was an opportunity, akin to their mastery of living metal that they wanted to exploit. "We support any judgment that facilitates this outcome."

I absorbed their positions, each immutable as the forces they represented. Survival. Balance. Control.

None spoke of compassion. None addressed morality. Only pure, cold functionality.

I weighed their arguments carefully, feeling the burden settle heavily upon me.

"Then why," I ventured carefully, "can't we simply use the Swarm? Harness its life energy to sustain the living metal?"

The Machine God sphere answered swiftly, its surface vibrating with decisive resonance. "The Swarm is a singular life force. It cannot be subdivided or harvested. Absorbing its essence would require its complete destruction. It is not raw material; it is a consuming mind. Each individual creature is merely a cell within a larger organism, no more separable than a blood cell from a body."

So the Swarm wasn't a collection of entities, it was one vast, living monster. I doubted now that it was natural at all. The more I considered it, the more it felt like a weapon. An endless tide sent to wear down the galaxy. Someone was playing the long game. The similarities between the Swarm and living metal were too significant to dismiss as coincidence. A darker thought crept in, one I didn't want to voice yet: I was beginning to suspect the Old Ones themselves might be behind it.

I turned toward the Mother, desperation clawing at my thoughts. Mother is the closest to life, they must know where life energy comes from, surely there was another source than harvesting children.

"Is there another source, then?" I asked urgently. "Some hidden well of life energy to replace what's lost, breaking this cycle?"

The Mother's vines curled inward thoughtfully, withdrawing slightly.

"There are deeper wells," she admitted, voice quieter, "older sources. Life beyond your knowing. But they are hidden, guarded. We can not lead you there, they must be found when you are ready for the knowledge."

Another vague answer and another avenue closed off, at least for now.

Frustration rose within me, burning hotly.

"If I ruled now, siding fully with the Harmonics," I pressed, voice tight, "if we removed the Swarm entirely… wouldn't that solve everything?"

The Harmonics shifted rapidly, their forms accelerating into dazzling fractals. "It would restore balance," they conceded. "Frequencies would mend. Life would stabilize. But there would be a grave cost. You may not be willing to pay"

"what cost?" I demanded sharply.

"All choices bear costs," the Harmonics replied simply. "Removing the Swarm now that they have established themselves would require immense energy, destabilising the energy lattice and causing unpredictable ripples. Had the judges ruled sooner, we would have avoided these expenses."

Behind them, the Mother stirred uneasily, her vines trembling.

"You would weaken future generations," she warned. "Without the Swarm, the forge of evolution would cool. Life would stagnate; complacency would prevail."

The Architect pulsed again, energy flaring around it.

"Destruction forecloses opportunities," it said coolly. "Study offers growth."

"Yet imbalance inevitably leads to destruction," the Harmonics reminded us grimly.

I closed my eyes briefly, filtering through the overwhelming complexity of competing truths.

"This meeting," the Mother quietly reminded me, "is not meant to decide the fate of the galaxy. It is about these three factions. Those that are here and now. Their grievances. Their survival."

I opened my eyes, the weight of the decision settling fully upon me.

"Have previous Judges ever ruled on matters like these?" I asked softly.

The Machine God sphere dimmed slightly, its resonance somber.

"Previous Judges deadlocked," it admitted. "None willing to choose. All biased by their origins, their kin. None willing to bear the consequences."

I let that truth sink in.

I wouldn't flinch. I couldn't.

I straightened my projection, sensing Wayfarer's steady support.

"My judgment is this," I stated clearly. "The Queen's Alliance Flotilla will be protected. The system they inhabit will become a Sanctuary System, inviolable under the Accord. Within it, they shall govern themselves, managing their population, resources, and destiny."

I let the words settle, feeling every eye or sensor locked on me.

"In addition," I continued, my voice steady, "any surviving remnants of the Queen's Alliance found beyond this system shall be granted safe passage to the Sanctuary, if they so choose. No harm shall come to them during their transit under the protection of the Accord."

My gaze swept across the Confederation envoy, the Machine God sphere, and Elder Reechk, measuring their reactions.

"Outside the boundaries of the Sanctuary, the natural order shall remain undisturbed. Confederation interests, Machine God operations, and the Swarm's presence will not be constrained."

The Accord orbs flared brilliant green, sealing the judgment.

The Old Ones offered no words but in their silence, acknowledgment lingered.

From Elder Reechk's expression, I could see he understood the flaw in my judgment. There was no way a single system could sustain the full tide of refugees that might come. Some would still be left behind and sacrificed by necessity, if not by intent.

The Confederation representative stiffened, silently calculating the implications. The Machine God sphere merely processed probabilities beyond comprehension.

I couldn't shake the hollow feeling growing inside me. Somewhere within this decision, I had traded a piece of my soul, and part of me wondered if I would ever get it back.

Slowly, the Old Ones withdrew, leaving behind echoes of unimaginable power and the fragile hope my small decision might hold well at least for now.

Then, unexpectedly, the Machine God sphere approached. I prepared for disagreement, bracing myself, but instead, its voice resonated gently.

"Your judgment changes little overall," it said, its tone oddly compassionate. "Yet, we offer you something that will assist Laia."

A small fragment of activated living metal materialised, glowing gently.

"She will understand," the Machine God explained simply. "She will know how to use it."

I accepted the gift silently, sensing some hidden intent behind it. Perhaps, in all this darkness, a small spark of hope had just been handed to me. We needed Laia back to bring balance back to our own ship.