Reborn as a Spaceship

The sheer scale of the assembled fleet and the stark declarations in the main chamber had made one thing clear: this mediation wouldn't succeed through standard negotiation alone. Before convening the formal session, I requested, and the Traxlic mediator granted, brief, private consultations with each delegation.

Understanding the nuances, the unstated pressures driving each race, was crucial. Kel joined me, his diplomatic instincts would be invaluable, while Lynn monitored from The Arbiter, analysing data streams. Laia and Wayfarer remained linked to my consciousness, offering silent counsel.

We met first with Unit 2231 of the Core Collective in a sterile, featureless room provided by the Traxlic. It had been tailored to make the unit feel at home. The AI's holographic lattice shined calmly.

"Unit 2231," I began, keeping my projected avatar's posture open and non-threatening. "Your initial statement mentioned core component synthesis. Is this for maintenance, or expansion?"

"Both, Arbiter," the synthesized voice replied evenly. "Current core degradation requires periodic replacement substrate. However, long-term viability necessitates propagation. The silicate nebulae within the Nursery system contain the unique quantum-entangled particulates required for new core matrix formation after refinement."

"Refinement," I noted. "So the raw material isn't directly usable?"

"Correct. It requires significant energetic processing to stabilize the particulates for matrix integration. A process we have perfected."

"Surely you must have access to this material in your home system?" I asked, curious for the answer.

"Yes, but we have reached symbiotic existence with all available resources"

"Understood," I said. "A question, then. Your capacity for propagation, for creating new cores, seems significant. What logical constraints prevent the Core Collective from eventually overwhelming this system, or others, through sheer numbers?"

Unit 734's lattice seemed to brighten momentarily. "A logical query, Arbiter. Our core directives prioritize stability and symbiotic existence within resource limits. Unchecked propagation leads to systemic collapse, an illogical outcome. Expansion protocols are governed by strict energy availability and non-interference algorithms. We seek only sustainable continuation, not dominance. Hostile overreach is incompatible with Collective function." Its logic was cold, and precise, yet offered little verifiable assurance beyond its own stated principles. It sounded more like they had already overpopulated and were already in a systematic collapse.

Next, we met High Priest X'lartek. The air in his designated chamber was thick with the scent of ozone and damp earth or that is what my sensors told me. He stood imperiously, mandibles occasionally clicking. We already knew the answer or believed we did but wanted to see if we could gather more information.

"High Priest," Kel started, his tone respectful but firm. "You speak of the 'Mother's blood' and the 'Sacred Dust' from the Nursery. Can you elaborate on your people's history and connection to these elements?"

X'lartek tilted his head, multifaceted eyes regarding Kel. "We dwelled within the Mother's Blood – a realm of pure lattice energy, her very essence. We were… content. Then, the intruders of metal and steel," his voice dripped with contempt, "desecrated Mother's blood. We defended her, but an enemy of The Mother attacked the lattice, locking us within." He had become quite animated, gesturing fiercely. "We had tried to escape, but no path could be found until we found the tear created by the unbelievers!"—he gestured vaguely, a flicker of anger in his eyes, clearly meaning the Phased Kindred—"their passage ripped an opening between realms. We spilled through into this… system, just as Mother had wished."

"And the Sacred Dust?" I prompted, picking up the thread.

"It resonates with the Mother's blood!" X'lartek declared, his voice rising again with fervor. "Alone, we are adrift, disconnected remnants of the Embrace we were torn from! But infused with the dimensional energies unlocked by the Dust, we can once more weave the blood, go where Mother will us to go, defend her where Mother needs defending"

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That was not what I wanted to hear, it seemed this dust. would allow them to open and close dimensional gates to the slipstream once again. Meaning they could appear anywhere, and at any time.

"This tear," I pressed gently, "this escape route provided by the... unbelievers. And the Embrace you were locked within... We understand such dimensional interfaces can be unstable, the actions of 'enemies of the Mother' suggest conflict over these realms. The Old Ones often seek to stabilise or lock down such connections. Are you aware of the risks inherent in relying on such phenomena, especially given your history of being trapped?"

X'lartek drew himself up, chitinous plates rattling softly. "The Mother provides! Her will guides us! What small risk exists in this reality pales before the certainty of spiritual stagnation! The path was opened; we followed Her will! We will have the Dust!" His conviction remained absolute, brushing aside any notion of caution. I hate dealing with religious Zealots, there is no reasoning with them. They were going to be the hardest of the races to satisfy, that is if I even want to.

Emanation-Prime of the Phased Kindred manifested as a column of shifting, translucent shadows and whispers in their chamber. Communicating required Traxlic's constant translation effort.

"Your need for the Forge system is clear," I stated. "The radiation, the specific matter, allows your stable presence here. But why this dimension? Why the need to anchor here?"

The whispers coalesced into coherent thought, translated by the provided translator device: «Our origin plane… saturated… energy gradients flattened… existence requires differential… expansion became necessity… This plane offered untapped potential… sufficient energy differential for sustenance and propagation…»

"Propagation?" I echoed. "So, like the Core Collective, you seek to increase your numbers here?"

«Survival requires energy input exceeding baseline maintenance… Our home plane cannot provide surplus… This dimension, specifically the Forge, offers the necessary flux… We must draw upon it… integrate its energy… to persist… to become more…»

The implication was unsettling. They weren't just refugees; they were tapping this dimension, this system, as an energy source to fuel growth because their own reality was depleted. Their survival seemed predicated on continuous energy absorption.

Finally, we met again with the Traxlic mediator in its austere command room aboard the station.

"Mediator," I said directly. "Your desire for stability is evident. But what is the Traxlic Assembly's desired strategic outcome here, beyond merely stopping these races from fighting?"

The Traxlic regarded me with its unblinking eyes. "The optimal outcome, Arbiter, would be the complete withdrawal of all three non-Traxlic entities from TX-0734. However, projections confirm the Kindred cannot survive elsewhere in this dimension, the Collective possesses no alternative substrate source, and the Children are fanatically devoted. Eradication or forced removal," it stated flatly, "carries an unacceptable cost-benefit ratio in potential escalation and resource expenditure."

"So, containment?" I asked.

"Containment is the pragmatic imperative," the Traxlic confirmed. "Preventing the unique capabilities or disruptive presence of these entities from impacting adjacent Traxlic sectors is paramount. This system must remain isolated."

"Then why not enforce that isolation yourselves?" I countered. "Your technology is formidable. Surely a containment field, a dimensional cordon, something to bubble this system off?"

For the first time, a sign of something akin to frustration crossed the Traxlic's features. "Standard isolation protocols have been modeled. The dimensional resonance required by the Kindred, the potential propagation of the Collective, the unpredictable lattice manipulation of the Children… each possesses capabilities sufficient to counteract or bypass conventional containment methods over time. A forced quarantine would likely provoke the very conflict we seek to avoid, and its long-term success is statistically improbable. That is why your unique function as Arbiter, as Judge, was invoked. A negotiated, self-regulating solution is the only logical path with an acceptable probability of success."

The interviews left me with a clearer, grimmer picture. The AI needed to build new minds. The Bugs needed a cosmic loophole fuelled by contested dust to maintain their connection with the universe. The Kindred were energy parasites on a dimensional scale. And the Traxlic, powerful as they were, felt trapped, unable to simply wall off the problem.

Returning to The Arbiter's bridge, The sheer absurdity of the task hit. No simple compromise existed here. Each race's core need seemed absolute, their positions entrenched. If a solution existed, it wouldn't be found in dividing spoils. It would require something fundamentally different. I wasn't sure I wanted to find a solution, I found myself agreeing with the Traxlics that the best solution was for all three races to return home.

I could tell this was a test, three races each representing one of the three powers appearing at once in a contested system was not a coincidence, they were testing me, seeing which side I would choose.

"Laia, Wayfarer," I projected into our shared space. "Let's re-examine the Nursery resource and the AI refinement process. Every particle, every energy signature. There has to be something we missed."

The search for a hidden synergy had begun.