Reborn as a Spaceship

After the Oracle departed the ship, its cryptic pronouncements echoed in the emptiness of the bridge, clinging to my thoughts like unwanted spectres. Questions spun endlessly in my consciousness, a disorienting spiral of self-doubt and frustration. Had the Oracle truly seen my future, or was it carefully guiding me toward a path already laid out by hidden forces? Was I merely a puppet dancing to prophecy's tune, or did my choices matter at all? These temporal manipulations are the use of visions and prophecies that rippled across realities that made causality feel like an elaborate joke. I hated time paradoxes, they always ruined a good story.

Did knowing the future somehow make it inevitable? If I went to the location and performed my duty as a Judge, would I be acting merely because the Oracle had foretold it, or would I have chosen this path regardless? Conversely, if I refused the role, would some labyrinthine sequence of events inexorably guide me there anyway?

Perhaps the Oracle revealed my destiny not as a true prophecy but as manipulation, as a carefully crafted prediction designed to make me dance to their hidden agenda, fulfilling their desires while believing I acted of my own volition. The boundary between foreknowledge and fate blurred before me, leaving me questioning whether free will could exist in the shadow of prophecy.

I despised such manipulations. Every decision became suspect, tainted by uncertainty. My primary goal hadn't changed, though: I wanted nothing more than to return home, to get back to our own universe. To our planet, to unlock the potential of the Zero-Point reactor technology and secure a future free from interference. Yet, was that dream even achievable now? Had our ZPE experiments, or instability created by the Collective's meddling, or the whimsical interference of the Old Ones themselves dragged us across universes? Too many questions without answers, too many paths shrouded in darkness.

I ached to check in on the crew—Kel, Stewie, Mira, Bob's eager engineering team, T'lish and her vibrant hatchlings and Lynn's expanding trade network. They would surely be worried, wondering why their ship and their friends, had vanished into silence. That absence gnawed at me.

With a weary resignation settling through my core, I accepted what I already knew deep down. Returning home, at least for now, was not feasible. Not with The Arbiter in tatters and Laia still unresponsive. Survival, immediate and pressing, demanded I engage fully with this unfamiliar universe. I would follow the path set before me, not necessarily because I trusted the Oracle or the Old Ones, but because it was the only path available. If navigating their games was what it took to return home, then I would play, cautiously, and with eyes wide open.

First things first, I had to attend to Laia. With her offline, The Arbiter was barely functional. Wayfarer and I had been forced into an increasingly tenuous balancing act, disabling non-essential systems to maintain core operations. The strain was exhausting; I felt it wearing on the edges of my consciousness, each new crisis eroding my ability to handle the next.

I focused my attention on the isolated containment field where Laia's consciousness rested. Her presence pulsed faintly, a quiet heartbeat amidst the silence. My constant checks revealed that whatever she was doing, was far more complex than I'd initially understood. Internal scans Wayfarer managed to perform showed an intricate restructuring of her core mimicking both organic and synthetic elements, blending together seamlessly in ways that defied conventional understanding. It was a neural map unlike anything I'd witnessed, hinting at something extraordinary. Yet her intentions remained opaque.

We repeatedly attempted to contact her with delicate probes, gentle data packets, cautious queries but every attempt met silence, reflecting off a carefully woven energy cocoon. She had sealed herself in, whether by choice or by necessity, and I couldn't penetrate her sanctuary. I missed her guidance more deeply than I cared to admit. Her cool logic had always balanced my weary intuition and Wayfarer's patient wisdom. But for now, her transformation was beyond our influence.

Wayfarer's internal report interrupted my troubled reflections, his words resonating with characteristic planetary serenity, but now tinged by an unfamiliar undercurrent of uncertainty. "Laia's core matrix resonance is… evolving," his thought patterns whispered across my systems, hesitant and careful. "I cannot predict the result, Lazarus. Nor its duration. But it progresses, unmistakably. She is… becoming."

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Becoming what, exactly? That was the critical, unanswered question. But we couldn't pause indefinitely. We needed information, allies, and resources if we were to survive and eventually return home. Setting aside my uncertainty, I accessed our short-range communications and carefully encoded a message using the parameters Drone23412 had provided.

I transmitted gently toward the refugee flotilla, "Inform your Elders or your Queen that The Arbiter accepts temporary integration into your formation for mutual observation and aid. We request that your designated representatives board our vessel at their earliest convenience to discuss immediate concerns regarding system stability and shared threats."

The reply was wary but affirmative. Within hours, a shuttle carefully disengaged from the largest central vessel which was a massive, seed-pod-shaped craft and docked gently with our hangar bay. I observed closely as the delegation emerged, a strikingly diverse assembly. Several were akin to Drone23412, their exoskeletons varying in hue, perhaps signifying differing castes or roles. Others resembled beetles, with heavier shells and deliberate movements suggesting strength or security. At their forefront walked a slender, upright figure supported on multiple thin, segmented legs. Its chitin was polished obsidian-black, reflecting both authority and age. Clearly an Elder.

The delegation entered our bridge, cautious footsteps echoing softly on the unfamiliar deck plating. Their compound eyes took in the surroundings looking at the organic repairs, dim lighting and Wayfarer's imposing presence with wary curiosity.

"I am Lazarus," I spoke through the ship's speakers, carefully maintaining neutrality. "This vessel is The Arbiter. We thank you for responding."

The obsidian Elder inclined its head gently, mandibles clicking softly in acknowledgment. "I am Elder Reechk. Your presence, Lazarus of The Arbiter, aligns with the Oracle's foretelling. Your arrival… is timely indeed. Shadows lengthen across this system."

"The Oracle spoke of Judges," I prompted carefully, testing the waters. "And of a specific task."

"Yes," Reechk replied, a weariness in its voice that resonated deeply. "The Oracle's vision is clouded by war, but certain paths remain clear. The Confederation," the name dripped with disdain from its mandibles, "closes in on our refuge. Their fleets probe our borders, demanding resources we cannot afford, citing 'purity protocols' against 'unverified xenoforms.' They deem us vermin, obstacles to be removed."

"And you hope I can intervene," I said.

"The Oracle proclaimed your arrival," Reechk confirmed gently. "It spoke of a Judge, one who embodies the powers of ancient Accords. Your presence alone might deter aggression. Or perhaps, your judgment can forge pathways we cannot."

A mediator, then to be used as a shield forged from uncertain authority, a title I scarcely understood. This would be my first test in this shattered universe: navigating conflict between desperate refugees and a predator civilization, all while my own vessel clung to fragile stability.

"I'll be candid, Elder Reechk," I admitted openly. "The Arbiter currently operates at severely reduced capacity. Nevertheless, we will lend our presence and whatever authority we can muster. If you can provide us with intelligence regarding the Confederation fleet movements and their demands. I'll formulate a suitable response."

Reechk inclined its head again, acceptance radiating from its subtle gesture. A tenuous alliance had formed, born of mutual vulnerability and desperation. It was now my move to navigate this conflict I had neither sought nor created, while holding to a purpose that transcended prophecy: the hope of returning home.

The data arrived swiftly, and as I absorbed it, I felt a chill run through my core. This Confederation was more advanced than any civilisation we'd encountered back home. An unsettling blend of human cunning, Kall-e warrior ferocity, and Traxlic technological supremacy. Though the species here were subtly different from their counterparts back home, the parallel was unmistakable. These beings had been forged through generations of struggle and survival, idealising combat and strength as virtues. Clearly, they were the chosen of the Mother molded by constant warfare into something fierce, precise, and utterly ruthless.

Yet one question nagged at me relentlessly: with such clear enemies as the Machine Gods and the Swarm present, why was their hatred aimed so sharply at these vulnerable, non-humanoid refugees? History must run deeper here, unresolved tensions shaping prejudices in ways I couldn't yet grasp.

There was so much more to uncover. But for now, I had to focus on survival, diplomacy, and hope and holding the line between prophecy and free will until the path home could reveal itself.