Reborn as a Spaceship

It had kept its promise, staying visible both to our eyes and sensors. But clear answers seemed to be beyond this geometric anomaly. Every direct question was met with deflection and riddles within riddles, frustrating hints wrapped in playful banter. It claimed innocence, an ancient being merely amusing itself at our expense, but I didn't buy the act.

I'd already seen the Architects pull a similar performance, feigning innocence and childlike curiosity while moving pieces on an invisible board. Being this old, with this much power, I knew they weren't playful. They were calculated. They were deliberate.

I decided I'd had enough. Without another word, I reactivated the dimensional trap.

Instantly the shape froze mid-rotation, suspended in the shimmering field. The slow, steady pulse of the containment grid seemed almost to irritate it, and it shifted, cycling rapidly through geometric forms.

Finally, it stopped pretending.

"Is this necessary?" the shape said, voice vibrating with mild annoyance rather than fear. "Your little dimensional bubble is more nuisance than a cage."

"Then indulge me," I said firmly, "No more riddles. Why are you really aboard my ship?"

There was a long, thoughtful pause. When it spoke again, it was almost reflective, voice deepening with an unexpected gravity.

"I came because your experiments disrupted the balance. The planet you've claimed is not merely a world, it is my home. It was stable. It was... harmonious. Your presence and actions have disturbed that harmony."

"Then why didn't you stop us earlier?" T'lish interjected, stepping closer. Her pale skin seemed brighter, her eyes intense with the weight of recovered memories. "If we were such a threat, why let us proceed at all?"

The shape rotated slowly, contemplating her question. "Because I wanted to see what you would add to the balance. Systems will adapt and obtain a new balance. I had hoped your presence would add to the balance, but it didn't"

T'lish was still perturbed. "Then what about my memories of my ancestors having a colony here?" she asked.

That seemed to shake the being. Who stopped and seemed to scan her.

"Your memories that brought you here are fake, but why? ...no it's too early for that isn't it, too soon." It seemed it was talking to itself.

"Too soon?" I echoed, confused. "Too soon for what?"

The anomaly didn't respond immediately. Instead, it began rotating faster, a frantic dance, before blinking out of existence. Silence fell, charged and heavy, as I waited confused by what had just happened.

Then, abruptly, a figure appeared before me it was not geometric this time, but humanoid. Old. Ancient. Eyes deep as galaxies, expression etched by time itself. His presence was solid, powerful, and somehow more intimidating than the anomaly had ever been.

"You asked what you arrived too early for," he said, voice low and resonant, carrying a weight of ages. "The trial has begun prematurely."

"wait who are you?" I asked, worried about the answer.

"Ah, yes your kind do like introductions. Think of me as the leader of the Harmonics, that's not important, no it's the trial that's important"

"Trial?" I asked, feeling some worries starting to form."What trial?"

"The Trial of Ideals," he said solemnly, looking directly into my avatar's eyes. "Each galaxy is built around a black hole, and from that singularity, us old ones draw our strength. But our power has boundaries. We cannot extend our influence beyond our own galaxies. Why, even we do not fully comprehend."

His voice grew softer but filled with contempt. "But sometimes, beings arrive from beyond. Travellers crossing the emptiness between galaxies, visitors from the void. Each time they appear, they disrupt the delicate balance we've forged."

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T'lish glanced sharply at me, uncertainty clear on her face. "And how do the Old Ones respond to this?" I asked.

The ancient figure turned, examining her carefully. "That is the problem. We cannot agree on a unified approach. The Mother wishes to incorporate these visitors through conflict and adaptation via strength through adversity. The Architects prefer experimentation, examining and reshaping the new arrivals to better fit their grand designs. And the us—" his voice grew cold, distant, "We prefer eradication. Purity. Preservation of existing order." The tone sent a shiver down my metaphorical back.

"So how do you choose which path?" I asked, unease growing inside me. "War? Experimentation? Eradication?"

He inclined his head gravely. "We don't. Not anymore. The first time our war led to the destruction of the younger races, so now that choice belongs to you and others like you. Judges. Mortals chosen by fate, selected from among the young races. You will observe us, study us, and perhaps even challenge us. We will appoint representatives who embody our chosen ideals: warriors, thinkers, scientists, diplomats. They will compete. They will strive. And when the visitors from beyond arrive, it will be your judgment that determines which of our approaches you agree upon."

"Like me?"

"Yes, you're a Judge, the first to be found,it appears"

A thousand questions flooded my mind. "Why me? Who else is chosen? What do these competitions even look like?"

He shook his head slowly, regretfully. "I cannot say who the other judges are. I did not even realise the trial had started until the Architects sent you to this location as a message wrapped in their playful meddling." He smiled ruefully. "But as for you—why you, Lazarus?"

His eyes penetrated deeply into mine, ancient eyes seeing right through my façade. "Because you embody all three ideals. You exist trapped between worlds, a human mind encased in a ship that is struggling, adapting, and always seeking a path forward. You've accepted an Architect's creation as your ally and friend. You've sought harmony, balance, and stability. Conflict is not your desire. Fate, perhaps luck, placed you here, walking all three paths simultaneously."

I felt a heaviness settle deep within me, a responsibility beyond anything I'd imagined. "And what if I don't want this? What if I reject your trial?"

The old being's expression softened slightly, tinged with genuine sympathy. "You can't reject your place, Lazarus. You can only decide what to do with it. These visitors will come regardless, and someone will have to decide their fate. Will you allow it to be another, maybe someone less thoughtful, less balanced?"

I had no immediate answer. How could I? How does one even begin to grasp the sheer scale of such a monumental task; it would demand considerable time.

But one question burned bright enough to push through my fog.

"What happens now?"

The ancient figure straightened, the quiet power in his posture undeniable. Shoulders set with purpose, voice low but resonant. "Now, you begin. Observe. Learn. Explore. Use your experiences to understand ours and the others ideals. You've already seen glimpses of the conflict, creation, and balance. Now you must decide which truth deserves to shape what comes next."

T'lish stepped forward, her voice unsteady. "So… is that why I was sent here? Why do I have memories that weren't fully mine?" Her face twisted with betrayal, and guilt she didn't deserve. "Was I just a pawn? For the old ones?"

The figure's expression softened but not with pity, but understanding. "No. That was not the only reason. Your arrival here was no accident and it had another purpose, this planet is special"

It turned, slowly, to face me and Laia.

"Your ship is out of balance," he said simply. "Incomplete."

Laia and I exchanged a glance. Her expression was unreadable, her form perfectly still but I could still see her confusion running parallel with mine.

The being looked directly at me. "Laia represents discovery and curiosity, invention, the spark that reshapes reality. You, Lazarus, represent the bridge, the balance between synthetic and organic. You are a creature of compromise. Of paradox but more importantly balance"

It paused, letting the silence settle.

"But you are missing a third element. Can you guess what it is?"

T'lish's eyes widened. "A living hull," she breathed. "The hull bud—"

The thought clicked into place like a final puzzle piece. A Judge must be neutral. Must embody all three factions, not merely observe them. But I still hesitated.

"Wait. Didn't Mother build this ship via NeuroGenesis? Aren't I already a representation of The Mother?" I asked, confused about how any of this worked.

It shook his head slowly, a strange solemnity in the motion. "That's where you're wrong. You feel it, don't you? The dissonance. The pull in your mind when you try to define what you are."

I didn't answer. I didn't need to.

"You are incomplete because your core wasn't meant to be contained in like this. Mother tried to emulate balance. Tried to create a Judge artificially. Your ship, your body, was their experiment. A fractured attempt at harmony."

Their eyes flicked to Laia. "She is a child of the Architects. Perfect, clean, efficient, and adaptable. You are what we would consider dangerous an unstable hybrid. But I can see it, the potential to create harmony"

It stepped closer.

"To become what you are meant to be, you must finish the circuit. Balance the equation. You must merge with something living."

T'lish stepped forward, her voice quieter now. "Then… if the hull bud grows and integrates, not just connects… it would become part of you."

"Except, I don't know how to do that," I said, intrigued but worried.

"But I do," The ancient being stated.