Reborn as a Spaceship

The private consultations concluded, leaving a bitter taste in my consciousness. Each race locked into its needs, its history, its demands. The Core Collective's cold logic of propagation, the Children's fervent dependence on the Sacred Dust tied to their need to transit slipstream, the Phased Kindred's dimensional energy requirements born of their own depleted reality, and the Traxlic's pragmatic desire for containment masking a clear wish for sovereignty.

I stood on the observation deck of The Arbiter admiring the view of Traxlic station, normally I would have been excited by this new sight. The rest of the crew was. But I was processing the interviews alongside Laia and Wayfarer, the path forward seemed both obvious and deliberately obscured. The fact that this whole situation was a test wasn't lost on me. Our analysis, running quietly in the background during the talks, had already flagged the potential energy synergy between the AI's refinement process and the Children's lattice needs – the 'Managed Symbiosis' solution. It was elegant, intricate, and balanced. The AI refinement process produced a waste product that was perfect for Children's needs. They could both win.

And yet… it felt too neat. Too much like the Architects' meddling, forcing pieces together in a complex experiment. I suspected the others, particularly the logical AI and the ancient Traxlic, likely saw this potential symbiosis too. Why hadn't they proposed it? Were they ignoring it, hoping I, the neutral Arbiter, would enforce it, allowing them to accept without losing face or compromising their opening positions?

The frustration burned. I hated being played with, maneuvered into fulfilling a role preordained by others, whether they be calculating contemporaries or the unfathomable Old Ones. My power here felt thin, ephemeral. It was soft power, reliant on the Traxlic's grudging acknowledgement of my 'Judge' status, a title bestowed by beings these races might not even fully comprehend or respect. I had no fleet to back my decisions, no hard power to compel obedience if diplomacy failed.

This whole crucible was an allegory, wasn't it? A microcosm of the monumental choice looming in the future, the one the Harmonic spoke of regarding visitors from the void. Would I choose eradication, the clean, cold preference of the Harmonics? Would I foster conflict and adaptation through adversity, the apparent path of the Mother? Or would I experiment, reshape, and force a solution, following the Architect's blueprint?

I could have asked the crew – Kel, Lynn, T'lish, Stewie, Mira. Their perspectives were invaluable. But this… this felt different. This was about the burden of being the Judge, about the choice I had to make, the path I would walk. The temptation to simply shatter the board was immense. A precisely calculated dimensional nudge to one of the inner binary stars… chaos would erupt. The delicate gravitational dance would collapse, likely destroying the contested resources, the station, and the fleets. A horrifying thought. I could survive it, but I would make too many powerful enemies, but the threat… perhaps that was leverage? Perhaps that was the only hard power I truly possessed?

No. Rejecting the elegant symbiosis wasn't about succumbing to chaos. It was about asserting control, about making a judgment that wasn't merely finding the path of least resistance or fulfilling an expected outcome. It was about establishing precedent.

I had my solution. Not symbiosis, but forced cooperation under a clear hierarchy. A win-win-win-win dictated by necessity and authority.

Convening the main session in the stark grandeur of the Traxlic mediation chamber, I bypassed the expected rounds of negotiation. The representatives took their places, anticipation and hostility radiating from their respective zones.

"Representatives," I announced, my voice amplified, trying to sound more in control than I was. "Having considered the inviolable requirements and historical context presented, the judgment of this Arbiter is rendered. This is not a proposal for debate; it is the framework for resolution."

A ripple of surprise, quickly hardening into defiance, passed through the non-Traxlic delegations.

"First," I declared, "the territorial sovereignty of the Traxlic Assembly within System TX-0734 is affirmed. Primacy is granted based on established presence and the necessity of imposed order. Those who are here first matter most in maintaining stability." The Traxlic mediator remained impassive, but I sensed a subtle alignment.

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"Second, the Core Collective and the Children of the Mother will withdraw their primary flotillas from TX-0734 space within seventy-two standard hours."

Outrage erupted. Unit 2231's core flared erratically. "Unacceptable! Core propagation requires direct substrate access!" High Priest X'lartek slammed a clawed fist onto his console. "The Mother's Dust is here! We will not abandon Her gift!"

"You will receive the substrate," I cut them off sharply. "The Traxlic Assembly will establish a regulated extraction process at the Nursery. A controlled quota of refined substrate," I looked pointedly at Unit 734, "sufficient for managed, non-exponential core propagation, and," turning to X'lartek, "sufficient refined energetic essence for lattice stabilization, limiting large-scale fleet movement, will be delivered via secured conduits to designated points outside Traxlic territory."

"This delivery," I added, "is not without cost. The Collective and the Children will provide equitable trade to the Traxlic Assembly for this service – technology, resources, or data, negotiated under Traxlic terms."

Both protested vehemently, threatening retaliation, speaking of war.

"War?" I let the question hang in the air, allowing a calculated coldness into my voice. "Consider the delicate balance of this sextuple system. Six stars in a complex dance. A significant, precisely applied dimensional shift targeting just one stellar body..." I let the implication linger. "...would render your resource conflicts, your fleets, your very presence here, utterly irrelevant. Permanently."

Silence fell, thick and venomous. They stared, searching for a bluff. I made sure to keep myself looking as strong-willed as possible.

"Third," I continued smoothly into the tension, "the Phased Kindred are granted restricted, monitored access to designated zones within the Forge system, sufficient only for stable manifestation and survival. Propagation will be actively monitored by the Traxlic. Uncontrolled expansion will terminate access." Emanation-Prime shimmered, offering no protest as their core need was met but I suspected they were already searching for loopholes or a way around it. Who could truly monitor what happened on the other side of the doorway?

"Finally, security and containment are paramount," I stated. "A system-wide, multi-layered barrier will be established, preventing unauthorised transit into or out of TX-0734. This barrier will require the combined, unique technological and energetic capabilities of all four parties present – Traxlic, Collective, Kindred, and Children. Departure or entry will require unanimous consent protocols, verified through this station. You will wall yourselves in, together."

The room exploded. The Collective, the Children, the Kindred all three representatives directed pure fury at me. "You cannot enforce this!" Unit 2231 pulsed. "This judgment is illogical!" X'lartek shrieked, "You bluff! You would not dare destroy the Mother's gift! We will tear your vessel apart!" Emanation-Prime's whispers intensified into a psychic wave of resentment and threat.

They were right, it was a bluff regarding system destruction. But they didn't know the limits of my dimensional control, or Wayfarer's connection to reality itself. And I could leave. If they chose war after judgment was rendered, that was their self-inflicted doom. I had done the job I was requested to do.

But before the threats could escalate further, the very fabric of the mediation chamber seemed to… shift. Reality warped, colours bled, and a new presence manifested in the center of the room. Not humanoid, not biological, but a complex, rotating geometric pattern of impossible angles and pure light it was unmistakably a Harmonic.

Its voice resonated not through the air, but directly within every mind in the chamber, calm, ancient, and absolute. "Formal mediation was requested and agreed to by a recognized Judge. Judgment has been rendered."

The Harmonic turned its non-physical eyes towards me, a silent acknowledgement. "The judgment aligns with the principles of imposed order and contained stability. It is… acceptable."

It then addressed the chamber at large. "The verdict stands. It will be enforced under the Accord of the Old Ones."

There was no time to react, no moment for defiance. With a silent, instantaneous wrenching of dimensions, the view outside the station's ports changed. The vast flotillas of the Core Collective, the Phased Kindred, and the Children of the Mother were simply… gone. Vanished without a trace, without a single energy flare.

Silence slammed back into the chamber. Unit 2231, High Priest X'lartek, and Emanation-Prime stood frozen in their environmental zones, their entourages, their fleets, their power bases ripped away in an instant. Only they remained, representatives stripped bare, facing me, the impassive Traxlic mediator, and the slowly rotating, undeniable authority of the Harmonic.

The judgment was absolute. Enforcement was inevitable.