Reborn as a Spaceship

I had called a private meeting within our shared mental space. I hoped this constructed sanctuary that was carefully woven from our own code would shield us from any lingering spies or unseen observers. Our space was intentionally simple: a simulated garden beneath an endless sky, furnished with soft seating suitable for relaxed conversation. It felt safe, quiet, and hidden from anyone who might wish to overhear our thoughts.

Laia was with us again, and I was profoundly relieved by her return. Yet, watching her now—autonomous, effortlessly graceful, and possessing a mind more advanced and complex than even my own. I couldn't deny the small twist of envy deep within me. She had achieved what I'd often dreamed of for myself: a physical form independent from the ship's structure. True freedom. She'd been able to exist as clones before, but this time felt different. This Laia was distinct, her evolution unmistakably real. I needed to study her evolution and look for a way to make use of it for my own sake.

Yet even that remarkable change paled beside the true gravity of our situation.

After the judgment concluded and almost the instant the Accord orbs had flashed green and the Old Ones withdrew, everyone else had simply vanished.

No farewells. No offers of assistance. Not even diplomatic pleasantries.

The Confederation representative, the Machine Gods and even Elder Reechk with all his grateful promises were gone without explanation. Perhaps they were making a deliberate statement, reminding us we were merely tools no longer required. Or maybe we had simply ceased to matter once their disputes had been settled.

Either way, it left us isolated in a damaged ship, bleeding energy into a lifeless patch of empty void, struggling just to maintain basic operations. The situation, while familiar, still left me feeling wronged and resentful toward everyone responsible for the circumstances.

Wayfarer rested nearby that is, if 'rested' was the right term. His presence resembled a flowing mountain, shifting subtly, having long ago abandoned his human form within our shared mental world. Laia paced quietly around us, still adjusting to the boundaries of her new body. Her appearance here seemed like a subtle combination of Lynn's strength and Mira's gentle curiosity, a reflection of influences she'd absorbed.

"We should have the nanites operational within the day," Laia said, her voice calm but tinged with fatigue. "Self-repair protocols are initialising properly, core systems stabilising. We should reach ninety-five percent efficiency soon."

"Power is still our bottleneck," I replied, absently rubbing the bridge of my nose which was a human habit I'd never quite managed to discard, even in simulation. "Without any nearby stars to draw energy from, we're completely reliant on internal reserves. Those won't last forever."

"Then we build," Wayfarer interjected calmly, his voice steady as granite. "A small Zero-Point reactor will sustain basic operations until we restore the dimensional drive."

We had already started preparations, scavenging what we could, reshaping every available resource to build the reactor. This would buy us crucial time—time we desperately needed. It would allow us to recover our dimensional capabilities, maybe even open a pathway home. I hoped it would also grant us the chance to better understand this universe's energy lattice.

I gazed out over our digital horizon, watching the artificial sunlight ripple across the simulated grass. It felt peaceful, even if false. Laia broke the silence abruptly.

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"Lazie," she began softly, a slight smile touching her features, "what do you want to do next?"

I blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unfamiliar nickname.

"'Lazie?'" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"It just came to me," she said, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. "Don't you like it?"

I smiled faintly. "No, it's fine. I don't mind."

Laia visibly relaxed, her shoulders easing slightly.

"As for what comes next," I continued firmly, turning serious again, "I think it's time we prepare for war."

Silence filled our shared space. Wayfarer's mountain-like form shifted subtly, a ripple of unease passing over his contours.

"And how do you propose we do that?" he asked cautiously.

I looked straight at both of them. "By capturing a sample of the Swarm."

Wayfarer reacted instantly, his presence darkening with disapproval. "You court disaster," he rumbled, his tone heavy with caution.

"I know," I acknowledged, keeping my voice steady. "But I have a strong suspicion that we've all been played from the very beginning."

Wayfarer stilled. Laia stared at me intently, her expression neutral but thoughtful.

"I don't trust the story the Old Ones fed us," I continued. "I don't believe there's a grand enemy lurking beyond the void, at least not in the way they've described. The Swarm, the living metal they both feel designed. Controlled. Sent deliberately by the Old Ones themselves as mechanisms for culling advanced civilizations. Consider it: where are the other developed races? Why haven't we encountered more?"

My words echoed in the quiet, feeling dangerously close to heresy.

"You think the Accords are meaningless?" Laia asked quietly. "The Judges and our very purpose?"

"Exactly," I said, nodding slowly. "They use the Accords selectively. They enforce their rules only when convenient, allowing chaos to flourish when it suits their aims. Whenever a civilization grows too strong, too independent, or too dangerous in their eyes, they deploy a threat like the Swarm, or repurpose enemies like living metal to reset the board."

Wayfarer's presence darkened even further, clouds forming across his simulated mountainside.

"You have no proof," he warned softly.

"I know," I conceded. "But that's exactly why we must acquire some."

Laia folded her arms thoughtfully, her expression shifting subtly into resignation. "Even if you're right," she said gently, "what difference can we realistically make?"

She stepped closer, her feet barely touching the virtual grass beneath her.

"They're not gods," she continued quietly, "but their power is undeniably real. They shape reality effortlessly. They enforce their rules with demonstrations we can't match. Even if we prove your theory, Lazie—what then? What could we possibly do about it?"

I met her steady stare, refusing to look away. I felt like this was an inflection point in our journey.

"Understanding is our first weapon," I told her quietly but firmly. "If we understand their tools, their methods, perhaps we can counter them."

Wayfarer shifted again, this time slower, more thoughtfully. "If we study the Swarm," he began hesitantly, "and the living metal simultaneously…perhaps we can identify a deeper connection, a fundamental truth we haven't yet uncovered. Something tied to the Telk and the energy lattice and to dimensional forces we understand far better than anyone here."

Laia's eyes lit up, already running calculations within her mind, considering the possibilities. I allowed myself a grim smile.

"They expect us to merely survive," I said softly. "They expect endurance, struggle, and obedience within the constraints they've set. But they don't anticipate us grasping their tools and using them against their own designs."

"And if we succeed?" Wayfarer asked, his voice quiet but carrying enormous weight.

"Then perhaps," I replied steadily, "we stop being mere players on their board."

We stood silently together, three beings bound by circumstance and choice, watching quietly as artificial stars blinked to life in our shared sky.

Finally, Laia crossed her arms again, staring thoughtfully at the horizon.

"You realise what you're proposing would require more than just knowledge," she pointed out gently. "You would need an army, an alliance of multiple races. Before anything else, we must return to our universe and find the strength there to back this vision. We need to do all of this without them finding out."

I nodded slowly, knowing she was right. This rebellion could not be waged by just the three of us.

Yet, in this moment, even that daunting realisation did not deter me. Instead, it filled me with determination. We had faced impossible odds before.