Reborn as a Spaceship

Faint, discordant sounds bled through the sealed doors of the mediation chamber—sharp clicking syllables warring with synthesized pronouncements, overlaid by the sibilant whisper-static of the Kindred. The venom, unable to touch me or the Harmonic, had clearly turned inward. Stripped of their fleets, cornered by an unassailable judgment, the representatives were likely carving up what minuscule leverage remained with diplomatic razors. Let them. I turned away from the muted conflict; it was already fading from my immediate concern. My part in that particular drama was concluded.

We left the docking bay but not the system. Not yet. Questions lingered, demanding answers only the visiting Harmonic might provide. I stood on The Arbiter's observation deck, arms behind my back, my avatar staring out at the star-flecked dark, admiring the view. The Crucible's six suns still burned, locked in their intricate gravitational waltz it was a cosmic performance oblivious to the minuscule dramas playing out around them. The system hadn't changed. But I had. The recent confrontation had highlighted a stark vulnerability I couldn't ignore.

My mind twisted over two important factors. First: what did it mean to be a Judge? Making pronouncements backed by unseen, unknowable forces? The intervention felt less like validation and more like being a puppet whose strings had been momentarily pulled taut. Without the Harmonic's dramatic entrance, my judgment and my threat could have evaporated into angry shouts and open defiance. They might have called my bluff, tested my resolve, perhaps even attacked. The outcome had hung entirely on an authority I didn't command and couldn't predict. That wasn't power; it was contingency. It was borrowed teeth.

The second factor: how could I gain real power? My own teeth.

Folding my avatar's arms, I sensed rather than saw the shift beside me. Space thinned, light bending unnaturally as the shimmering, geometric form of the Harmonic coalesced. It rotated with silent, mathematical grace, its fractal edges hinting at dimensions beyond perception.

"The Accord of the Old Ones," I said, my voice quiet but clear in the stillness of the deck. "You said my ruling was enforced under it. Explain that. What authority does a Judge truly hold?"

The Harmonic's voice resonated directly within my consciousness, cool and dispassionate. "Judgment rendered by a recognised Judge triggers the Accord when specific criteria are met. Its enforcement is automatic, not discretionary."

"And those criteria?"

The light shifted, hues blooming in deep purples and golds.

"First, the mediation must be officially convened. The parties involved must acknowledge your role and the legitimacy of the proceedings. Second, the judgment must affect multiple sovereign species or forces—internal conflicts do not qualify. Third, and most critical, the outcome must not cause direct harm to the interests of the Old Ones. Your ruling must not unravel the balance we strive to preserve."

"So," I said slowly, "I'm allowed to act—so long as I don't break your toys."

"Incorrect," the Harmonic replied. "You are permitted to act so long as you do not endanger the playground itself."

"They're watching me," I muttered.

"Yes," the Harmonic said. "We all are. Trying to understand you."

"How did my ruling today go down?" I asked.

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"Mother was keen for a war—and perhaps that would have been correct answer. Four different but advanced evolutionary pathways might have created something wonderful."

"Or caused mass destruction and extinction."

"True. But there was much that could have been learnt from a war. The Architects are pleased to observe how the Children and Collective will try to adapt to limited resources. And we are happy that balance will be maintained."

"So I've gained a reputation with the Architects and the Harmonics."

"No. We do not keep score. There is no such thing as reputation with us."

I knew it was lying, even if it didn't believe it.

I tapped a finger against the transparent projection rail. "So what happened today? It worked. My ruling stood. But only because of you."

"You misunderstand," the Harmonic answered. "We did not enforce your will. We enforced the Accord. You triggered it. You fulfilled the criteria. Your position is not ceremonial. It is functional. The Traxlic knew this. They calculated the conditions, judged the risks… and invited you."

I let that sink in. "So they rolled the dice. They knew the conditions for enforcement had been met but took a chance I would choose their side."

"Correct."

"And if I hadn't?"

The Harmonic shimmered once, colors fracturing like oil on water. "Then they would have adapted. Or withdrawn. Perhaps they would have let the system burn—just as you proposed."

I clenched my hands behind my back. So I had teeth. Teeth I didn't even know how to use. Teeth that only bit when the stars were aligned just so.

"What about me?" I asked, softer. "What power do I have when the Accord doesn't apply?"

Silence.

"No fleets. No guns. Just me."

The Harmonic pulsed slowly. "Then you must build."

My avatar turned to face it fully. "You want me to start an empire?"

"No," it said. "We want you to survive until the next choice. And the next. For that, you will need more than borrowed power. What power you choose is up to you"

The Harmonic began to fade, its form unraveling into cascading threads of translucent geometry.

"Judges are rare," it said. "But rare is not always equal to safe. You must choose what to become."

Its light vanished completely.

The journey back to Tacci Station was swift and surreal. The Traxlic provided an escort, two cruisers flanking The Arbiter, and granted us passage through one of their stable wormholes. A swirling vortex of blue-silver energy opened before us, and we plunged through, emerging moments later into the familiar space near our adopted home base. Our arrivial caused panic until they saw me with them.

Before departing, the lead Traxlic cruiser broadcast a terse, system-wide message: "The Arbiter operates under Traxlic Assembly protection within designated Alliance territories. Unsanctioned interference will be met with a decisive response." Then, they turned and vanished back through their wormhole.

Protection? Or a gilded cage?

I called the crew to the bridge immediately. They gathered quickly, their faces etched with concern, questions held back by the gravity of recent events.

Mira spoke first, her voice soft. "Lazarus… are you okay? That was… intense."

I met their worried gazes, letting my avatar lean back slightly against the command console. "No, Mira, I'm not entirely okay. What happened back there revealed a fundamental weakness. My authority and our safety, well it hinges on factors outside our control."

Kel frowned. "The Harmonic stepping in? Yeah, that felt like a deus ex machina."

"Exactly," I agreed. "It worked this time. But we can't rely on it. We need our own power."

Stewie's eyes widened slightly. "So… we're building a war fleet?"

"Yes and no," I clarified, pushing away from the console. "A war fleet is useless against the scale of forces we might face. We could never outgun an entire race or let alone the Old Ones. True power isn't just military." I looked around at them—my crew, my anchors. "Knowledge is power. Connections are power. Wealth is power. Influence is power."

Lynn leaned forward, a familiar calculating glint in her eyes. "So, that Class-2 construction permit…"

"We're buying it," I confirmed. "We're building that station Kel scouted. We're establishing ourselves not just as mediators or couriers, but as a hub. We'll make alliances, formalise trade networks, gather intelligence. We become indispensable. We build a foundation so strong that even without the Accord, our judgment carries weight."

A new energy filled the bridge. The tension didn't vanish, but it shifted and transformed from apprehension into focused determination. We had survived The Crucible. Now, it was time to forge our own path.

But before all that… I figured we'd earned a little downtime.