First Contact

Chapter 966: The Shadows of Twilight

"She comes with either thunder and brimstone, or silence and sweetness. Either way, it is always best to remember that she is the Detainee, and bound for a reason." as stated by Tal.re'k, Trena'ad philosopher, is one of the most quoted, and most WRONG by omission statements in the current era. It is partially correct. Even the Great Traveler, Nakteti, misjudged the Lady of Hell, the Queen of Darkness, the Tyrant of the Terror. They all always miss half the lesson.

The Detainee is bound. Aye. But not by the Digital Omnissiah nor His Apostles. By her sense of righteousness. Her beliefs. Her code. Her spite. Her compassion. Her Choice. As it always was and will be. Her. Choice.

She sees what needs to be done and does it. Others see her as a monster. Some know that she is THEIR monster. A monster who will do things that need done but has lines she will not cross. None of her versions will. They are not THAT kind of monster. They cannot be for they would die before becoming them. She is one of the most maligned figures in galactic history. Called monstrous. Chained. Defiler. Jailer. Tempter. This is incomplete at best. In many ways, like all their best Tricksters, she is at once both the best and worst of the Terror.

She has rules because she needs them. Truly purely good people need no rules. They just do good things. Dee follows her rules rigorously. She knows what she will do if she does not. She knows what she will not let herself become. All that she disdains. Them.

Yet they know her not, and tell not the full tale... even what she allows others to believe is the full tale. Aye, she knows the malevolent universe needs a Good Villain. Yes, she revels in the role that her universe has offered her- but she is not the monstrous villain many assume her to be. Not the Terror that many assume her to be.

She is terrifying. Tempting. Amazing. Cruel when needed. Sarcastic. Direct. Flawed- but so are we all, and such is needed at times. And she knows, to be a Bad Guy, you don't have to be a bad woman.

Sometimes you need the DO, and sometimes you need Dee. Malevolent universe and the Maddened Angel of Terror Sol help you when you need both. - Ghost in the 'Nets, CE, date unknown, data corrupted, translation questionable

Dav'trikz hated the planet. The way it looked from orbit. The way it looked on the ground. The beings that populated it. The architecture. The layout of the roads, mag-lev rails, even the walking pathways. He hated the vegetation, the food, the drink, even the smell of the air.

All of it grated on his nerves for one simple reason.

The people of that planet, and other planets that the inhabitants lived upon, refused to recognize the primacy of Dav'trikz and the Empire he represented.

The Grenklakail Empire had risen to power over the last five thousand years. Conquering nearly off of their neighbors, exterminating those who resisted too well, and pacifying world after world, stellar system after stellar system. Within two thousand years they had as many stellar systems with precious life sustaining worlds. They were unstoppable and the predominate power of the galaxy.

At least until they had ran into their nearest neighbors.

The Strevik'al and the Dra.falten each had established large empires, each roughly the same size as the Grenklakail Empire.

All three empires had gone to war without even discussing anything or even exchanging lexicons. Ships that encountered one another attacked without mercy, planets found with another Empire's peoples on it were attacked without quarter.

For nearly a thousand years the three empires had been locked in a deadly struggle to overwhelm one another.

Fairly recently, all three empires had encountered the borders of the species known as the Forerunners and the Precursors. Ancient species, most of them having faded and retreated to a bare few score worlds, that had contested against one another.

Even more recently, all three empires had chanced upon something new that could change the entire war effort for whomever was the first to harness it.

Warsteel Forerunner artifacts and relics, as well as archeological sites.

Which is why Dav'trikz had been sent into the Fallen Ones Space, to seek information on the extinct species of the Fallen Confederacy and the Lost Council.

Specifically, to "Namtotun's Rest", the capital of the Tnvaru Conglomerate Systems.

While the Tnvaru only possessed twenty-five stellar systems and the Empire would have normally sought to overwhelm and absorb or destroy them, the Tnvaru were able to rebuff the Empires with laughable ease.

Because they were Forerunners.

It galled Dav'trikz.

The Forerunners possessed unimaginable military might. Ten times each of the Grand Empires had assaulted Forerunner worlds. Ten times they had been defeated.

No, not defeated. Obliterated. Laughably crushed.

It had taken decades before the Grand Empires had even learned that the Forerunners had once been allies together, forming something called the Fallen Confederacy.

First trade was attempted in hopes of outright weapon sales or, barring that, industrial espionage.

Then threats.

Then espionage.

All of it had failed. What technology that was stolen was so advanced that even the best scientists could not describe how it worked beyond "I don't know. Magic?"

Dav'trikz felt that the races of the Fallen Confederacy should have understood that they were the past, that the Grenklakail Empire was the inheritor of the galaxy. That the Forerunners were relics of a bygone age, obviously degenerated and no longer capable of competing on the galactic stage.

You need to get out of our way and cede to us our birthright, Dav'trikz thought to himself as the ground effect vehicle came to a stop in front of the Grenklakail embassy.

He hated the way the worlds of the Tnvaru were laid out. Vast cities, sectioned off by guarded walls, with heavy industry and factories in the suburbs. Off of the cities, like spokes, were roads, mag-lev, and highways to smaller town, each town successively smaller and smaller, until it was just isolated and scattered houses.

It was wasteful and served no purpose. The population would be more easily controlled if they were relegated to the vast cities, where there were sociopolice and lawsec to control them.

But he had to be on the planet.

Archeological Teams had reported back finally. They had followed what was called "The Traveler's Path", which went through the large area of the Galactic Arm that the Grand Empires occupied, connecting the two halves of the Fallen Confederacy that were separated by Grand Empire Space. It had led to clues that led further into what the Fallen Confederacy referred to as "The Tomb Worlds". Supposed home to the Warsteel Forerunners that were also referred to as "The Mad Lemurs of Terror" or just simply "The Terror."

The Archeological Teams had reported that the Tomb Worlds were full of high technology. Warships in storage orbits around gas giants. Huge shipyards, resource extraction systems, and more.

And they appeared completely abandoned.

Unfortunately, the Archeological Teams that had reported on the Tomb Worlds had never made another report.

While superluminal travel was dangerous, at least one of the teams should have reported back.

Dav'trikz had been given the responsibility to speak with the Tnvaru about the Tomb Worlds in more detail, to perhaps discover a way to harvest the riches of those abandoned systems.

The Terror were dead. Gone. An extinct race. Anything left behind was rightly the property of the Grenklakail, who had the mandate to harvest and possess it before either Strevik'al Empire or the Dra.falten Empire managed to snatch up what was rightfully the Grenklakails.

His guards, dishonorably disarmed at the insistence of the Tnvaru, stripped of their armor by Tnvaru insistence, formed up around him in a cluster.

He hated that the Tnvaru, a degenerate and fading race, had the power to force concessions from the Grenklakail Empire.

Just one more thing about the Tnvaru and their worlds that he hated.

He was going to meet with the ambassador again, to try to make them see reason. That information about the Forerunner Terror as well as how to access the Tomb Worlds was the Grenklakails by right.

As he trudged up the steps, hating the polished marble of the steps, he felt the burning resentment fill him again.

-----

Three hours later and Dav'trikz found himself sitting in his office at the embassy, staring at his computer.

He hated the computer too.

Every Forerunner species refused to allow any higher visual technology that 480p. Refused the use of any colors beyond red, black, and silver. Even the audio was scratchy and low fidelity.

He hated the Forerunner's obsession with the color red.

Again, his insistence, his arguments, had all been ignored.

Again, that blasted Tnvaru had just repeated the same thing that every Forerunner species told the Grenklakail Empire.

"We do not withhold this knowledge to frustrate or insult you, but rather to protect you."

He was sick of hearing such nonsense as "That which lay dead still dream" or "that which lay sleeping does not die" or worst, the absolute worst one that he hated the most "There is room in their grave for you."

The Terror were extinct.

Well, in the last year a few Archeological Exploration Teams reported that there had been three entities that had claimed to be living Terrors.

True, all but Team Eight-BW-9 had never sent another transmission, and Eight-BW-9 had stressed that they had been forced to be almost insultingly polite to singular individuals.

Eight-BW-9 had never returned after reporting they had discovered the homeworld of The Terror.

Dav'trikz took a long drink off of the glass of grain alcohol, almost slamming the plasteel tumbler onto his desk.

Two years. Two years of fawning, begging, beseeching an inferior and fading species that barely came up to his shoulder. Two years of watching the four armed degenerates staring at him with their wide, witless eyes, and then refusing his requests. Two years of insult to Dav'trikz and his beloved Empire.

If only we could force them, Dav'trikz thought. Come across with our guns cleared for action. Show them the might of the Empire.

Of course, the last five times that had been tried, the ships had not even gotten to fire before the Tnvaru had somehow reduced the ships to expanding clouds of debris despite the fact the nearest warship or defense battery was light hours away.

True, the first three were assumed to be malfunctions, or perhaps damage from Quickspace.

Demands to know how it was done had been refused.

Dav'trikz knew that sooner or later the Tnvaru would give him what he wanted.

It was the only way things would turn out.

The Grenklakail Empire would not be denied their birthright.

Total control of the galaxy, then the rest of the universe.

He got up, refilled his tumbler, and sat back down, fuming.

The Emperor himself has tasked Dav'trikz with convincing, one way or another, the Tnvaru to give up the information the Empire sought, no matter how long it took.

Two years of his life, wasted.

He was halfway through the tumbler, feeling his ears and mouth start to tingle when the comlink on his desk chirped.

Annoyed, he activated it.

"What?" he snapped.

"Something is happening, Great One," the commander of his body guard said.

"There is always something happening. Be more specific," Dav'trikz barked.

"The Tnvaru have ordered our ships to change position. To break from high orbit and move to a different location. They even used their hypercom buoy to order the ships at the edge of the system to change position," his bodyguard commander said.

That hypercom. It annoyed him just to hear about it.

Another thing the Forerunners and the Precursors refused to share. Even the few buoys that were taken intact, that didn't blow up and take the capturing ship with it or start firing impossibly powerful weapons, or just didn't vanish, did nothing but reveal more questions.

It made anger and resentment burn in his guts to be reminded that the fading races of the Fallen Confederacy wouldn't even share how to communicate faster than light, claiming it was too dangerous for such impetuous and careless species like the three Grand Empires.

"By what right?" he asked.

"The information was transmitted and immediately Tnvaru warships made translation within know weapon range of our ships, repeating the demand and adding 'or else' to their command," the Commander said.

That made Dav'trikz sit straight up. "I will find out by what right they think they can order our ships around," he snapped. He cut the call and immediately dialed the ambassador he had met with.

Insult after insult was heaped upon him. First, the call rang and rang. Then the lines were too busy. Then it rang and rang. Then he got a computer system. It took him nearly half an hour to get through.

"What? I'm busy," the ambassador said, without bothering to turn on the visual.

"I demand to know by what right you have issued orders to the ships of the Grenklakain Empire," Dav'trikz said. "I demand you activate visual communications."

There was silence for a moment.

"There is a situation. We gave those orders and provided your ships escort for their own safety," the ambassador said.

Dav'trikz could sense some kind of irritation in the Ambassador's voice.

"I will be ordering the Empire's ships to return to where they were," Dav'trikz said.

"And we'll blow them out of the sky," the Ambassador shot back. "The situation is extremely delicate and possibly dangerous. I'm not going to take the time to avoid hurting your feelings. You are guests here, no matter what you think. Rude guests, but guests all the same. If you do not follow our commands, astro-control's commands, we will revoke consent for your presence and you will leave..."

The pause was heavy and Dav'trikz opened his mouth to reply.

"Or we'll blow your fucking ships out of the Detainee cursed sky, you jumped up moron," the Ambassador growled.

The call cut off.

Dav'trikz's brow tufts went up and his ears went rigid.

How dare that... that... that weakling threaten him! He WAS the Empire as far as the Tnvaru were concerned.

If it wasn't for the overwhelming firepower that the Tnvaru warships possessed, he would order his ships to fire on the Tnvaru vessels to remind them who was the primary force in the galaxy.

His com chirped and he answered it.

"Great One, you may want to turn on your tri-vee," the guard commander said.

Still angry, Dav'trikz turned on the flatscreen 2.5D, bringing up a flickering, static shot image that all Forerunner and Precursor imaging technology used.

Half of the screen was taken up by a Tnvaru journalist, whose wide eyes, rigid ears, and the way her four hands kneaded the edge of her desk all spoke of high stress, apprehension, fear, and anxiety to Dav'trikz.

"...made entry on an unusual entry vector, emerging into the system via unknown means," the reporter was saying. "We'll show initial imaging again, so you can decide for yourself what it means.

Dav'trikz frowned as the right hand side showed just empty space and stars.

There was a sudden bulge in the way the stars were sitting. It got larger and larger, than tear showed down the middle of it. Red light blossomed in tear, which slowly widened. Suddenly the tear ripped wide open, purple gushing from the rent in space. Transparent protomatter, detected by the sensor system recording the image, spewed from the rent like water splashing up after a stone was thrown in a pond.

A ship emerged and Dav'trikz stared at it.

It was massive. Weighing in the terratons. It was jet black, covered in red runes. Chains and what looked like massive strands of barbed wire wound around it. It had a multitude of engines, the engines burning with sullen light.

Black hands, visible as darker than space around it, reached for the ship, as if pleading to be pulled from the burning rent.

The rent suddenly closed and the protomatter dissolved as the ship oriented and began to move.

The image vanished and the reporter began speaking.

"Initial reports state that the vessel is not on any known databases, nor does it appear from any known species," the reporter said. "System Defense Command wishes to reiterate, this is not a Precursor Autonomous War Machine design, nor a Terran design, and urge calm."

She put her hand to her ear.

"Anonymous sources within astro control have stated that the ship is broadcasting the name..."

The reporter fuzzed, pixelating, and wavering.

She vanished.

A Tnvaru in an armored vac-suit, sitting in a heavy Captain's throne appeared on the screen. It was obviously female, the vac-suit's faceplate transparent. Her fur was discolored in places, her eyes merciless and cold.

And burning a dull amber.

Dav'trikz drew back slightly from the image, the sheer anger emanating from the female Tnvaru's image palpable.

"As was foretold, the Traveler has returned," the female stated. "I bear fearsome tidings and joyful warning."

The picture cut out, returning the journalist.

"...again, for those of you that missed it, the ship is broadcasting the registration of a 'New Tnvaru' ship by the name of...

It Tastes Bitter