Lucid Truth - 7. Risk And Tenacity

Yugan perceived the intention only seconds before it happened. One moment, they were between the shattered remnants of Yahet, the planet torn apart by Shay's quantum manipulation of gravity on a scale greater than anything previously seen. The next, they had jumped to a new place, distinct again from all prior locations.

"Analysis: extreme luminosity detected," the AI stated. "Photosensitivity adjustment applied. Radiation resistance enhanced across relevant wavelengths."

A star came into the forward view as the ship angled toward it after the jump, the locus of Mira's destination. Immediately, the dagenithi understood why the onboard intelligence had given the warning.

It was bright.

Though, that description barely did justice.

Even from the distance they were at, and with the contrast so reduced, the screen was dominated by a glow so blinding it outdid everything Yugan had witnessed so far by multiple orders of magnitude.

"Go closer." Shay's voice was soft, his position standing forward of the command podia in front of the other three unchanged, his stance assertive and unflinching. As with other times of sudden emergent crisis and extreme situational pressure, the human boy had embraced the spirit of Sulin's commanding boldness. Yugan could tell the determination in his posture and focus, the tenacity now familiar. "As close as possible."

It took only three quick strides for Yugan to cross to an empty podium, and with a hand gesture, he summoned the statistics.

Radius equal to 0.77 of Earth's sun, 22.6 times the mass, absolute magnitude of -8.4, human designation type of WO1; primarily an oxygen-fusing Wolf Rayet star. Located 5536 light years from the galactic core within the central bar, closest to the junction of the Sagittarius-Carina arm.

The ancient pre-Sundering Mishith values were displayed comparative beside the human equivalents. Although he had not a full grasp of what either measurement system meant, between them there was enough comprehension to appreciate the scale of what he was seeing. Yugan's conception of celestial mechanics was at least sufficient to know this star was an extreme example of not just stars in general, but also the specific type. It was relatively compact but massive, with a corresponding high density and luminosity. Apparently there were more luminous stars than this one out there, but the remarkable brightness wasn't the most extreme thing about it.

Surface temperature of 252,000 Kelvin.

In fact, the file entry included an AI-generated appendix with special noteworthy information.

Additional Notation:

* Current hottest surface conditions of any regular stellar body in resident galactic formation.
* Oxygen depletion in three years, four months; supernova to occur.

This was all Yugan needed to understand what Shay had asked of Mira in choosing their destination, and why this was Mira's target.

If pure kinetic force wasn't sufficient to kill the Herald -- and their departure from Yahet had been enough indication of that -- then Shay wanted something with greater destructive potential.

Something very hot.

He glanced up, medial eyes focusing intently on the image before them. They were at more than a dozen times the distance Dagen's Grace was from its own sun -- many astronomical units by the human accounting -- but this star was SO much brighter, and that was with contrast reduction. Yet, the exceptional intensity was crowned by something more. Human vision couldn't detect it, a physical difference Yugan had learned from observations through Shay's eyes. Within the tangled forests of his birth world, Mishith ocular acuity had few natural sources, but here? The ultraviolet emissions were strong, and the glaring white centre was burnished with a halo that saturated the blue light to a richer purple glow.

He had no chance to ponder before they were moving again.

Next to him, Mira's fingers danced through the display, and then-

Acceleration.

The field of view widened as if pushed away, the barely visible cosmos beyond tinting deeper purple, and nearly instantly everything they could see shrank rapidly to a central bright amaranthine dot, as if the entire universe had collapsed forward, gone from existence.

It stayed that way for less than a second and then ... the transit was done.

The previously coin-sized stellar glare sprang out of the momentary tunnel, now a magnified view that seemed terrifyingly close and no longer a tiny brilliant spot. Snapping into full visibility, the star filled the entire forward view, the ship's visual filter darkened yet further so the mere sight didn't render them blind. A momentary much-faster-than-light hop had bridged the distance from the outer system of their arrival to near the star's corona; Mira had done as Shay asked, and now?

They were closer.

Curving streamers of plasma rose from the surface, stark against the backdrop of a diffuse nebulous shell. They bent in majestic arcs, molded by photospheric radiant ejections, dragged and twisted by gusts of solar wind. The AI's contrast adjustment was necessary and powerful, the reduction enough for the roiling tides of stellar nuclear fusion to be seen. Outlined in alternating patches of rising haze and clarity, light and comparative dimness, this star was a turbulent superhot ocean of white-violet lines and swirls. Even among others, it was a celestial furnace of heat and radiance, a marvel of its own kind unparalleled.

The hottest in the galaxy.

"Information: coronal fluctuations are causing irregularities in thermal intensity. Magnetised emission lines create heat spikes exceeding chromosphere temperature by a minimum factor of fifty. Variation runs from twelve to sixty million Kelvin." The AI's instructive tone paused for just a moment, and Yugan saw Mira change something in response to the warning with a flick of his finger. "Protocol adjustment accepted. Radiation resistance maximised. System capability sufficient; avoid manual intercept of plasma discharge for safest transit."

As understated as the AI's suggestion was to not test the ship's durability by flying it through the searing emanations from the star, Yugan's curiosity was not satisfied.

The pre-Sundering technology had already demonstrated its general effectiveness, but what were the limits of that resilience?

Even as he felt the presence of the Herald manifest near their arrival point into the system, Yugan ignored the incursion for the moment; the monster's appearance required Shay's attention more than his own. He turned his thoughts to the podium display, and with a new gesture, drew all the information available on the ship specifications to the fore.

It was designated as a specialised personal utility craft, originally constructed to a certain standard that was not normally available; it was clear Dagen's extraordinary status and position had granted him privilege that most others were not afforded. The hull composition was the lightest-type variant of what was typically used in military vessels, and the material description was odd to Yugan in both his own language and the human one. The Mishith noun was scientific jargon, an adjectival derivative that translated, awkwardly and inexplicably, to the new compound English term of sylamurite grade 1. The material, sylamurite, was an extremely dense synthetic alloy that the AI would not provide atomic detail for, though several qualities were given.

Firstly, it had crystalline properties with molecular reinforcement that made it tougher than any naturally occurring substance. Secondly, it was an insulator of incomparable durability. Thirdly, through the arduous and slow process of its forging, it was imbued with a passive 'soft' connection to the universe's inherent quantum fields, the very same that aqumi explicitly utilised and interacted with. The difference from aqumi was sylamurite's bond was latent and idle unless evoked. This meant under the influence of specifically-applied energy sources -- in this case, the AI channeling the ship's reactor -- the material's native characteristics could be manipulated at a base level to allow for rapid state changes.

Here, Yugan came to an enlightened realisation.

That same passive quiet connection was present to a lesser degree in many other pre-Sundering technologies. He immediately perceived that this was the primary factor, and the exact determinant, which allowed the Herald's pursuit in defiance of physical distance limitations and plausibility. Before, he had known the reason was, in the vaguest sense, a product of advanced technology.

Now, here was proper definition.

The quantum bonding was a mild deep thing, a built-in background necessity of basic function. In some regard, it was the ethereal bones and invisible soul of the pre-Sundered Mishith, still present within their surviving works; the spirit of their genius and lingering proof of what they had been capable of.

Yet, to the alien aggressors, this link was an obvious abomination. What were these artificial vibrations in the near-perfect uniformity of quantum field distribution, but evidence of a profane interference?

Evidence of sound, hateful clamour, in what should have been blessed silence.

To them, the old empire was loud; every planet and ship and artifact produced an endless intrusive discord so infinitely resonant that no amount of space could disguise it. Tens of billions of light years were not near to enough; no physical gap existed that was sufficient.

He did not know why this mattered to them so much, but he understood the effect, the revulsive power to the servants of the Master.

He understood how those unstoppable monsters must have hunted Sulin's defenders during the first war to silence it. From world to world they advanced, eliminating the cacophony as dutiful children, zealous in their crusade. So they fought until the end came; until there was nothing left but the bastion of Sulin's Will, and Dagen's decision to commit the Sundering.

It was all because of this.

The thought was truly strange to Yugan. The troubles they faced stemmed from the aptitude his ancestors had showed. The Mishith from before the Sundering had been too successful, and the power of their inventions had caused it, and brought it to tragic conclusion.

All of this insight he drew from what he saw, the information before him about sylamurite's role as a shipbuilding material.

More than that though ... he saw hope.

Technology had begun this, but with human help, technology could also end it.

This ship, even as a utility craft, could survive some extreme conditions with just its basic composition taken into account. The specifications were clear about the potential for radiation, energy, kinetic resistance, as well dynamic variations of molecular recombination that enabled other properties at will.

If they were to appropriate any surviving larger pre-Sundering vessels, with greater capability?

Perhaps the Herald was trying to prevent exactly that: facing something designed solely for war.

As if the thought summoned it, Yugan glanced up to see the leviathan completing a secondary hop to where they were. From the other podium, Elia focused the view, bringing it to the fore.

The results of Yahet's impact on the superstructure were clear. A coating of magma residue covered the exterior like a slathering of rocky adhesive. Kinetic damage from the planetary mass had created undulant surfacing where it would have been linear, the damaged symmetry was now more organic in shape. The temporary cold of space's vacuum had not yet allowed the layer to shed or harden, and in the renewed heat of stellar proximity the slag was worn as a glistening epidermal coat.

Still alive, still very much functional.

The ship turned, the Herald beginning pursuit. In the primary view, Elia minimised the creature to the lower left quadrant, a camera's eye on it as it gave chase, while the rest was given over to the standard bow visual. Mira was angling the ship, the star coming closer and closer, the curve of its surface rapidly growing wider. They were skimming along it, a roiling sea of plasma uncomfortably near, though Yugan could not tell the distance. It was perhaps less than it appeared, or perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps each gout and churn, each surge and whorl, was vast and continental, and he simply lacked a frame of reference to understand that tiny perturbations in the storming veneer were the breadth of planets.

It stretched further and further, a stellar horizon, and before them were the drifting columns of expelling plasma, huge deforming crescent shapes that rose from the oceanic celestial fire. Mira's piloting avoided them, carving through the blinding haze with a finessed precision.

Then, a flicker of motion off the port bow.

An impaling wing flew past in a flash of shimmering black, the purple glow of the star blinking out of sight for just a moment.

Missed.

The Herald had closed the gap, now within striking range.

A second wing flashed by, then two more in the rear view. Mira's fingers played through the display, his concentration immaculate, the ship following his smallest gesture like a quicksilver charm.

A fifth attempt, and a sixth followed, and then-

He felt the quantum distortion, wreaths of it spreading behind them to wrap around the Herald's limbs. Shay's amplified power gripped it, but not just the wings.

He was grasping the propelling rear tentacles too.

But ... not to stop it.

The rings of aqumi twisted and pulled, modifying the creature's thrust, and at the same time, the ship changed course too. Yugan's medial eyes darted to the display in front of him, and with the gesture of a clawed finger, he identified the heading.

They entered the pillar at the same moment the Herald let out a pulse of anti-aqumi, drawing on the source of its own power. The force put into its resistance was extreme, and Yugan could feel the ethereal vibration of the shackles being ripped off, but ...

... they were not.

Somehow, Shay held it, maintained it.

The node's strength was making a difference.

The Mishith could sense the struggle as the human boy fought to keep the creature still, for just long enough. In thrall, the two had slowed, one tiny and one gargantuan, both now inside the streamer of pure solar heat.

It wasn't enough.

Around them, Shay was reaching out to the fluctuating pockets of coronal scorch. Ropes of aqumi latched onto the nearest clusters of energised particles, each exiting the star through turbulent waves, and he dragged them in. Hardly detectable against the radiant mess of all else happening, the disparate invisible strands followed Shay's direction as faithfully as if called to aid.

It took less than five seconds for this to have the desired effect.

"Information: local temperature is exceeding thirty million Kelvin."

"Thank you, serin." Shay's reply was soft, and Yugan recognised but the smallest tremour in it, the only symptom of the unfathomable stress he was under. "If we hit sixty, let me know."

There was another pulse of anti-aqumi from the Herald, the fury of its temporary confinement seeming to empower the attempt. The bonds around the limbs trembled, but they stayed. The human boy let out a low grunt of effort, the simple sound easily audible in the quiet of the ship's bridge.

Yugan glanced to the image of the Herald, suspended behind them, both now nearly motionless within the plume of stellar heat. Beneath it was framed the star itself, and the monster's outline, the splayed silhouette of the ensnarled celestial kraken starting to glow.

Not just the magmatic remains of Yahet, but the underlying surface.

It was heating -- truly heating.

Whatever protection it had was clearly finite.

Could they actually melt it?

Could Shay flense the layers of hull from it through the star's power, like paring fat from a slaughtered mire-haunt? Could it be reduced to slag, then turned to metallic vapour, then finally to atoms?

"Information: local temperature is exceeding sixty million Kelvin."

Then came the voice.

I will withstand.

You will not.

Each fleeing step, the gap shrinks.

Another pulse burst from within the Herald, and this time two of the restraints shattered, on the rear tentacles.

You're going to burn. Shay's telepathic response was heard by all of them. You're going to come apart, piece by piece.

It was then, Yugan noticed it.

The superheating of the Herald's hull was damage in action, but ... there was something else happening. A shimmer, barely told, that had nothing to do with temperature.

A modification.

One that was strengthening as he watched, subtle but with increasing vigour.

It was adapting to immunise itself.

Kinetic first, now thermal.

"Warning: local temperature is exceeding eighty million Kelvin. System resources transferred to mitigate radiation. Other functions may become impaired."

Then, he saw what would happen, with Dagen's prescience.

The probability was increasing along with the temperature.

If they stayed, they would certainly die.

The Herald was right.

"Shay." He said. "We cannot-"

"I will destroy it," the human boy interrupted, as stubbornly determined as ever. "I know I can."

"Not like this. Not here."

The bond around one of the wings broke and it whirled about, unexpectedly freed.

"Warning: local temperature is approaching ninety million Kelvin."

It was easily visible now, a dull gleam mixed with the melted outer metal of the Herald's exterior, that bore the hallmarks of an insulator enhanced far beyond what was normal.

"Shay." He said it again, much more urgently. "We must jump. Now."

At that moment, the quantum restrictions collapsed, the fastenings broken on every limb. With horrifying dexterity, they turned as one, pincering inward.

In the very same instant, Shay's telepathy was replying -- distressed, angry, frustrated, but still defiant.

Jump.

The wings stabbed, but Mira, as always, was quicker.

In a slip of cosmic translocation, they were gone, away again across the Milky Way.

-o-0-O-0-o-

The Phalanx was docked with Majesty, alongside Admiral Jiang's flagship, the pride of the Third Fleet. Though she had come in person as her theatre was closest, Kerensky and Lugor were still at their respective defensive quadrants. The prevailing sentiment was against having the entire senior command gathered in one place, even temporarily. The enemy was still close enough to begin engagement again at any time, and despite advance warning, nobody was interested in tempting fate.

"Survivors from Delta 1 are being transferred to the surface for medical attention. The same for any KIA that are fit for burial." Kerensky spoke through the video comms from his office on the Kirov. "Unfortunately, there's no time for retrieval and forensics on all partial remains. We do what we can, but efforts are primarily directed towards debris containment and logistical concerns." He nodded. "Munitions, consumables, emergency repair."

"Aye," Lugor agreed. "The same goes for me, but I have more to attend and less to work with." With a hand gesture, he pushed the information to the shared communication window, the figures springing into view. "I absorbed the brunt of what should have been Beaumont's, if it wasn't for that dirty trick they used on him. The Fourth still has plenty of fight left in it, but we've taken the most hits."

"You held the line." Konstantin dipped his head respectfully, with a glance to Jiang, who sat in the other chair in the briefing room next to him. "Both of you. That's all I ask of anyone."

"Well," the Sudanese admiral shrugged, "when they come back for seconds, we'll be ready at a moment's notice. Might have to drop cleanup duty, but ... we'll be ready."

"We are delaying the inevitable point in this conversation." Kerensky's look was directed at Konstantin, deliberate and serious as ever. "What is the next strategic move? Because ... this won't last. The clock is ticking on this timeout, and when it's done, we must be committed to a specific action. Whatever doctrinal avenue is taken, pursuit of something is the key. Konstantin, as I said to you, passivity will deplete us and lead to our deaths."

There was a few seconds of silence as the four considered this.

Kerensky was correct.

They wouldn't get to rest for long. The fighting would resume, and it wasn't enough to just weather it. They had to take steps to inflict damage on the enemy.

The question was: how?

Konstantin summoned the fleet statistics while the others looked on, eyes flicking over the figures. The Second and Third were still in good shape; Kerensky had barely lost any ships at all, whilst Jiang's deployment had only suffered minor casualties. Most of hers were sustained between Bengal and reinforcing China.

Then there was Lugor.

The Fourth had fewer than twenty thousand combat ships active, which was a substantial drop from before the invasion's start. Though, it had to be noted, this was including the First Fleet's remnant, which had been incorporated into Lugor's command during battle.

Additionally, the reserve pool and CS-Space weren't to be discounted, as in combination they were not numerically insignificant. Yet, the mixed composition of damaged Taiqing expeditionaries and older vessels was functionally less efficient, and requisite for the shield protocol's maintenance. Reassignment was impossible except as a last resort; these groupings were dedicated and could not be used for other roles.

In practical terms, this gave an operational strength of 66.7%.

Konstantin had lost almost exactly one third of his fighting force in the first battle.

The xenoforms, however, had taken many thousands of losses too.

Estimates varied, because there were uncertainties over the exact number of enemy dead. Kerensky's diversion to Mars had made a difference in the pressure on Earth, but those numbers were effectively self-contained. Battlefield chaos and conflation of kill counts generated irregularities, and the sheer volume of cross-referencing and data collation made for complex theory. The conservative value was 2.5 for every human ship, while more liberally it topped at 3.2.

Either way, the outlook was grim: Earth's defenders had killed more, but the enemy had far greater numbers, and even with the most favourable conditions, the conclusion was undeniable.

Humanity would exhaust itself first.

More than that, the balance of the alien forces was still inexplicably questionable. Repeated strategic analyses had been unable to reconcile why there was a mismatch, but the disparity was definite based on the original intelligence from Librae Arctis. The Disciple class were proportionately over-represented in the assault, and comprised the overwhelming majority of enemy combatants. The Emissary cruisers had appeared in some number, but fewer participated than expected. Most notably, there were no Apostles, the capital-ship equivalent.

Not a single one had come to Earth.

"We must even the odds." He glanced back up to the others; Kerensky was unchanged from neutrally expressionless, while Lugor was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Something that will hurt them without compromising our defence. I am open to suggestions."

"Commander." Jiang was reading off a mini-holo displayed above her wristband, a new communiqué from her officers. "My analysts have just sent me something interesting about the xenoforms. Have a look at this." With a finger tap, she transferred the imagery to the communications window with the other admirals. "You can see here the enemy force."

The image was exactly that: video capture of the swarm of alien ships motionless in space, only a handful of klicks beyond the range of Earth's static weaponry. At first, Konstantin did not understand what was interesting about the picture, but then he realised.

There were no stars visible between the alien ships.

"What ... is that?" It was Lugor posing the question. "Are they creating some kind of interference?"

"Yes." Jiang affirmed. With another finger tap, and a swipe, the image changed to a tactical infographic. The enemy formation was arranged in a rough sphere and the overlay drew an artificial boundary that encompassed it entirely. The representation rotated, to illustrate the border enclosed everything within it. "It isn't visible, but we've detected some kind of projected field that's blocking or absorbing light, and other radiation types. A null zone, if you like."

"What for?" Konstantin asked. "This ... cloud, is it meant to be granting stealth? We solved their invisibility advantage well enough."

"I don't think so, because their ships are still trackable in there. It's murky, but not impenetrable."

"Then what's the reason?"

"It seems," she said, "to be for regeneration."

Regeneration?

"The science team on Beta 2 are pointing their highest res scopes at it, and one of their observers noticed something strange. She happened to see a damaged Disciple regenerating part of its structure while she was watching it."

"This field is repairing them?" Kerensky stated it flatly.

"That's not the biggest problem." Jiang pursed her lips, a frown building. "She also witnessed Disciples appearing. I don't mean jumping in from another solar system, I mean ... materialising. New ships, spawning from whatever the hell births these things."

"Hooh." The Russian admiral breathed out slowly, the exhalation laden with so much purposeful animosity and intense trepidation that Konstantin felt a shiver from it even through the comms window. There was a glint in Kerensky's eye that told the full breadth of this knowledge's impact, and just how little he liked it. "Those bastards are changing the calculus. Here we are struggling to recoup what we have, and they are building their strength for the next round, right in front of us. This seals it. Action is critical."

"You're right." Lugor's response was not to Kerensky, but Jiang. "My tac officer just forwarded more strategic analytics. The findings are similar to yours, with added extra." Giving a gesture of his own, the image generated an additional layer that extended roughly five to ten klicks further out. "You see the, uh, sort of ... halo, surrounding it all? My resident physicists have done a rapid-scan and run several Kubo-Schrödinger iterations -- whatever they are, I didn't major in quantum mechanics -- and found a negative correlation. It's the inverse, apparently, of the inner envelope."

"I took a couple of related classes before graduating." Jiang was staring at the diagram intensely, studying the figures. "Not an expert, but from what you've said and what I'm looking at, I can postulate this much, and I'd like your physics experts to correct me if I'm off."

Immediately, Lugor was dragging a fresh user into their discussion. It was a fleet subordinate, but only as a non-verbal audio connection; an invisible listener, not a speaker.

"They're patched in. Go ahead."

She traced the edges of the spherical blob with a fingertip. "So, the aliens are warping space subatomically to provide the environment that heals and creates fresh ships. This warping isn't like what you'd get with extreme gravity, for example; there's no baryonic crushing or distortion taking place. I think it's just one of the quantum field expressions being focused somehow? The iterations are demonstrating bunching that deviates from natural processes, if I'm reading it correctly. It's been a while." Jiang shrugged. "In any case, their findings seem to indicate a peak here across the middle, like a wave," and then her finger glided outward, to the halo, "and here's the corresponding trough, with the water pulled away."

There was a moment, and then Lugor nodded, his experts giving their verdict.

"Seems your take is accurate enough."

"What are the practical implications?" Konstantin asked.

"Well, uh, this isn't anything that would happen in nature, and it's science outside of our capacity, so I could be making some wild assertions here," Jiang murmured, her eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. "The short answer is: force-carrying particle propagation might work differently. Photons, gluons, etcetera. Can't say how, just that the metric will be altered."

"That's correct." Lugor relayed the response from his audience, once again. "Though they want to add that gravity should be included, and that the inverse band is depressive."

"Depressive." Kerensky repeated the word, and he leaned back slightly. "So you are saying that in this area of proximity, gravitational interference might be .. decreased or dampened? Perhaps muted entirely?"

Muted.

The word caught Konstantin's attention, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Lugor beat him to it.

"Yes." The Sudanese admiral's face mirrored Konstantin's own, and they both looked to Kerensky. "Maxim, could we use this somehow, like you did at Mars?"

"Hmm." His voice was a rumble. "As it stands, excluding stealth, their advantage is both mobility and numbers. Ours is firepower. We are more efficient at killing, but we cannot always leverage this because of situational bias. The Martian gambit created specific circumstances that neutered their capacity for avoidance. Earth?" He paused a good few seconds as he weighed the conditions. "More uncertainty and a greater risk, because of stakes and consequences, but ... BUT ... this is a vulnerability they may not know we are aware of."

"How would you exploit it?" Jiang asked. "We would get one chance, and there would be no room to screw it up. It may be cold to say, but trading at anything less than a minimum 4:1 KD ratio is unacceptable."

"A partial diversion approaching from, say, here." Kerensky indicated a vector drawn from an angle nearer to the Earth's surface toward the alien swarm. "Cleanly visible. They will recognise an assault is incoming, and we send enough to make the threat seem real. Belief in the threat matters. We have good knowledge of their reaction speed, and if these readings are true, we also have a fade time for this regenerative field. It takes, what, several dozen seconds to come into effect? That number can be refined, and a more precise measurement made for the switch from idle to combat readiness."

"Go on," Konstantin encouraged.

"My fleet would be best in this role. The gravitic LR mods -- my new artillery pieces -- can be used in conjunction. This will exaggerate the power of the diversion by making the threat more attractive. At the height of it, we can jump a force of whatever capacity you choose -- multiple SGVs with a backline, or just fighter screen and pure heavy, any combination and number -- to within the inverse band on their opposite side. A force that has all mounts spinning and green."

"Then stab them in the back while they're blind, as hard and fast as we can." Jiang nodded curtly, and she shared a look with Lugor, a flash of understanding that Konstantin had seen before between adepts that were so in tune they could recognise the game being played without saying a word.

"And away at flank before they find their wits." Lugor breathed in deeply. "This has some teeth to it, but, as you said: the risk."

"No matter what we choose, Admiral Lugor," Konstantin said, "there will be a risk, but Maxim was, and is, right. Inaction is a more certain road to failure than risktaking. This idea is ... worth attempting, but we must whittle away any errant problems until it is immaculate."

"I can take care of the details," Kerensky offered. "With Lugor's liaison on the fine print, and your permission."

"Granted." Konstantin nodded to the two men. "Do what you need to, gentlemen, and as quickly as you can. We will speak again soon."

With an acknowledging head tilt from each, the windows winked out, and the conference call ended, leaving the two others alone. Jiang stood, and the Russian with her.

"Well, that was unexpected." She faced Konstantin, and he regarded her politely in that moment. Whilst not familiar like Maxim Kerensky nor with the workaday charm of Lugor, the Chinese admiral was young and clear-headed, and a consummate professional. He had begun to value her input more and more. "I hope you do not mind the question, commander, but I have the sense you might not be convinced?"

Truthfully?

Konstantin did not know how to answer.

But ... he decided to be honest.

"If I was to say it straight," he told her, "I am not. There is ... something ... about this threat to us, that seems like it understands our choices better than we know ourselves." He bit his lip, an eyebrow raising. "It may be crazy, but I feel as if they are ... orchestrating everything. We are rats in their maze, unaware that each corner turned and every blocking wall are but the successes and failures of the inevitable path. I am sure that sounds like defeatist madness, but-"

"Sir." Jiang interrupted him, and for the first time in his experience, she smiled, quick and small. "It doesn't. I would never admit this before anyone other than my peers, since it is only an emotional reaction, but I have felt something like what you describe. I have a hunch there is more to their methods than our best strategising can combat; that we are out of our depth and have yet to realise it. It might be we can't outwit them, and that is ... a truly frightening notion." She blinked, swallowing, and then smiled again, a tinge of nerves and halting empathy. "At the same time, today I also saw them beaten back because they underestimated us. Severely. Whether this is part of an elusive grand plan or not, I don't think they know how tenacious we can be when pushed, and ... that ... will be what ends them."

Human tenacity.

The very concept made him think of a certain soul.

A brilliant, clever, brave boy -- one who was much more than he appeared.

Briefly, Konstantin wondered where Shay was, out there in the stars, and if he was safe.

So long as Mira was with him, they could conquer anything.

Perhaps that was all the reminder needed.

"Thank you, Admiral Jiang." He spoke soft and slow. "Your candour is welcome."

"Commander Andropov." She responded in kind. "Likewise. Now, I should return to my flag, and the theatre. I have much to attend to."

"Yes," he said, and they began to walk to the door. "As do I."

-o-0-O-0-o-

His appearance on the transport vessel startled Rashid, causing the soldier to let out a shocked expletive in Farsi. This bridge was much more expansive than what he had just been unceremoniously vacated from, but it bore a similar clean, warm aesthetic, the surfacing and interior mimicking the style of Dagen's personal craft.

"Boss!" Rashid was striding across to him. "What's happening? We just saw the warning. The Herald's back? I thought we blew it up."

"Ugh." Ayize patted himself down, caught off guard by the suddenness of the teleport. "Yeah, so did I. Shay chucked me here because they're leading it elsewhere. At least I think that's why."

Helpful as always, the ship's AI chimed in right then. "Information: the Herald and Seer Dagen's vessel have jumped out of system. There are no others currently present."

"Well," he huffed, "that answers that." Turning, he stared out at the bridge window at the landscape. Brown and grey rock and low sloping hills stretched away, with more distant vents pluming smoke and gas beneath an orange sky. Then, back to Rashid. "Brother, anything new to report?"

"Nothing concrete yet." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to where the two female Mishith were standing together in front of what looked like a pilot's station a few metres away, one of seven such podia arranged in symmetry. "I don't mind these guys -- they're friendly for folks that are big enough to toss me around like a ragdoll -- but it's good to see another human face."

Ayize chuckled, and he clapped Rashid's shoulder, the pair walking back toward the others. "I hear that, but I think they'll grow on you." He waved to the Mishith. "Hey, it's ... Ralot and Mikom, right?"

There was a moment or two while the AI spoke in a soft undertone, automatically translating from English to the Mishith language. This function was something it did intuitively, whenever foreign interspecies communication was happening.

"Yes," Ralot, the younger female replied. "You are Ayize. Your friend has introduced himself. We follow Yugan's example, and will honour you as allies in any way we can."

"That's great." He nodded enthusiastically, looking back and forth between the two aliens, both looming a good foot and a half above him. "I am glad to hear it. Shay and Yugan have left to kill the monster again -- I don't know why it didn't stay dead -- so they sent me here to help you. Yugan told me he is seeking the other half of Dagen's path of 'blood and stone', which would be the 'stone' part?"

"That is what we search for." Ralot touched a virtual symbol on the podium control, and the same map appeared that Ayize had seen earlier; the continental area of the hemisphere where they were, with the sites Dagen visited shown as glowing dots. The rest were scattered across the zone, but the transport ship was exactly where Yugan had told it to land, in the dead centre of a tight triple cluster.

"We have teleported volunteers to four of these already," she indicated a string of locations much further out, and then one of the closest three dots. "This also. None have sent word of any finding that may prove important. We know not what Dagen left for us."

"Just so," the older female interjected. Though he couldn't understand the words directly, Mikom's voice possessed a deeper and smoother sound than Ralot's. Ayize assumed the timbre was a sign of maturity over the young-adult rasp. "It may be evidence is buried or damaged from the passage of time. The cycles since the firstborn have been many, so what Dagen left behind could be well hidden."

"Then, how about we go take a look ourselves? Maybe the humans can spot something that the Mishith haven't."

"Ah, maybe." Mikom's ears twitched and her head tilted and angled rightward, the one remaining left eye sweeping lazily across his face. Her body language was more inscrutable than what he had seen of Yugan, the social cues seeming attuned to purely Mishith interactions. There was a dash of intimidation to it, and though Ayize didn't think it intentional, he felt it nonetheless.

Her scrutiny was something akin to the presence of a respected elder statesman, where his reactions were being weighed on a scale that he knew nothing about.

It was very disconcerting.

"Maybe two eyes will see what four cannot." Mikom's teeth showed momentarily, but were hidden again, as if teasing, and Ayize's instincts were bouncing between taken-aback by a possible threat of dominance, and probably misconstruing actual humour. "Or three. The stalker is a thief to which I give no thanks." She snorted airily, exchanging a look with Ralot, whose own ears flicked downward in what might have been mild unstated impatience at Mikom's attitude. "I shall accompany."

She was not easy to read.

This is going to take some getting used to.

Ayize knew he was learning a real-time lesson in diplomacy.

"Brought the environment suits here just in case, boss." Rashid cut in, and he motioned to a small equipment stack next to the rear wall. "Liberty's in the hangar, but this is a big ship, and ... well, there wasn't much else to do but be prepared."

"Good man. Work ethic in place no matter how far from home we are." He nodded to Mikom. "We'll wear our protection, and as soon as you're ready, we can teleport to the site."

"I will fetch a companion." She motioned to the bridge elevator with the inferior left arm. "After that, departure."

The plan agreed upon, Ayize and Rashid set about donning the environment suits. Outside, the temperature and pressure was bearable -- a dozen degrees warmer than an average equatorial human midsummer -- though the atmosphere was the main concern. It was varying quantities of carbon, hydrogen, and sulfur compounds, as well as low levels of nitrogen and oxygen. Definitely not breathable, though Ayize did wonder as they finished gearing up, what protection the Mishith would require.

As it turned out ... not much.

When Mikom returned a minute later with another unnamed Mishith in tow, their clothing was unchanged; woven tribal materials around the shoulders, torso, waist and upper legs. The only new equipment was an alien version of the human rebreather, attached around the head, covering the mouth and nose. Presumably provided from whatever absurdly-advanced inventory Dagen had left behind for his people, the devices fit seamlessly, and gave almost perfect clarity audio filtration, the sound unobstructed whenever the Mishith spoke.

At this point, Ayize told himself, it was only the big things that would surprise him.

Seeing humanity's best technology -- some of which was pretty damn good -- be effortlessly outclassed was becoming the new normal.

"Here." Ralot handed a small white disc to him, and another to Mikom. "For translation, speaking with me, or to access the ship's intelligence herein."

It was the equivalent of a datapad with an AI backup.

Useful.

Then with no further fanfare, she hit a couple of holographic symbols, and-

-blink-

-they were there.

Flawlessly smooth.

Orange sky from horizon to horizon, the ground mostly dark grey rock, and a gritty mixture of sand and igneous particles. No nearby volcanism and generally flat terrain, except for a line of foothills around a half kilometre distant.

"There." Ayize pointed, his voice muffled through the filter. "Only place worth checking."

With no protests from the others, they began to walk. It was quick going, and with near identical Earth gravity, there was no real effort required. Mikom and the other Mishith, who was apparently a younger male, took the lead. They were unbothered by the warmth, and didn't seem to suffer any skin irritation from the unpleasant atmospheric melange. The cold of the mountain summit on Dagen's Grace, where they had first met, hadn't worried them either. Ayize could admit that, just watching them, he was a little jealous of their physical hardiness and ability to shrug off the conditions.

The male spoke, interrupting the silence with a comment to Mikom, but the translator didn't parse it. She made an odd snorting sound in reply, and Rashid called out to her.

"Hey, what did he say?"

"He said your kind are like Mishith children, but underfed. That, and it must be unfortunate having only two arms."

"Pff! Ahaha!" The African couldn't help but laugh, largely because there wasn't any hint of unkindness in the exchange. They probably were like children to someone the size of Mikom. "You hear that, brother? We're being roasted by them! They're more like us than I thought."

"No kidding," Rashid scoffed. "Never thought I'd be called a skinny child, but I guess when it's coming from someone who's eight feet tall, I'll let it slide."

Reaching the base of the hills, the four began to fan out to cover the ground better. They clambered up, each within easy sight of the others across the open. The slope was gentle, and relatively featureless aside from small amorphous rock formations. Continuing for a good fifteen minutes, Ayize was beginning to think this was another fool's errand. Ralot had said that other locations had yielded nothing, so it would be continuing the trend if this was the same.

Then, he heard Rashid's voice.

"Boss! Come take a look at this!" He was waving a hand, his words carrying faintly. "Dunno if it's anything, but check it out!"

"Mikom," Ayize spoke into the utility disc. "Rashid has found something."

"We see him," she confirmed. "We are coming."

Traversing to him took only a minute, and not more than that for the others to catch up. Rashid was standing on the edge of a fissure. It had a narrow mouth with a shelf running along one side, but it widened as it led downward into the earth.

A cave?

Mikom touched her disc along the side, and it illuminated. Ayize copied her, doing the same.

Of course it was a light source. What didn't it do?

He went first, following the rocky shelf down, Rashid slipping in behind him, the two Mishith bringing up the rear. Advancing with care, testing the ground as he went, Ayize began to walk with greater confidence. He was a little wary about potential instability given the world's volcanism, but the rock felt thick and solid. The fissure had narrowed and veered away from the entrance, and the cave floor began to broaden as they went deeper. Above, a band of orange was just visible where the sky could be made out, though it was slowly shrinking.

Finally, they bottomed out into a cavern, and holding the disc aloft, they trod carefully to the middle. It was roughly spherical, like an ancient extinct magma chamber a few dozen metres across. There were no visible exits, the cave simply finishing at its rounded edges, but those edges were where the scenery changed.

Like a garland of flowers, wreathing the lower walls and the floors on the circumference, were crystals.

Crystals?

They were sprinkled in oddly repetitive patterns. There were a series of rocky bubbles protruding from the cave base, with larger and more vibrant crystals scattered around the periphery of each, decreasing in size into the centre. It was like a rocky garden somebody had cultivated in a dead volcanic cave.

"I don't get it," Ayize murmured. "What use would Dagen have for something like this?"

"I do not know." Mikom stared at the assemblage of facets, the lights of their artificial torches glinting in reflection. She approached the nearest formation, crouching, and Ayize followed her. "Yet there is something ... familiar, here."

"Boss." Rashid was next to them too, and he had one of the CorpSec scanners in hand, a piece of human tech he'd brought along for the trip. "Believe it or not, I'm detecting an electrical field inside these rocky bumps, or whatever they are."

An electrical field?

Why?

"What?" He whispered it. "That doesn't make any-"

He didn't get to finish the sentence.

The formation in front of them trembled, and there was an abrupt series of loud snaps and cracks. The surface fractured in a number of places, like eggshell breaking, and with a gentle solemnity, crystal-adorned protuberances unfolded, pushing outward from inside.

It's ... moving?!

Ayize nearly fell over backwards in shock, but Mikom stayed still.

The extending limbs hinged midway, having sprouting at five almost equidistant points around the centre. They lowered slowly down to the floor where they planted themselves. There was another crackle of rock splintering, this time below, and the formation rose, pulling free of where it was joined to the ground.

It was standing up.

He could not believe his eyes.

Was this thing actually ... alive?

Next to him, Mikom crouched lower, until she was right in front of it, holding the light source between them.

It almost seemed like she was in a trance, her movements slow, careful, and full of ceremonial respect.

"We are the Mishith." She spoke so low it was near to a whisper. "We are the blood of Dagen's blood."

In response, sparks of light flickered and danced across the being's surface where it stood motionless on slender crystalline legs. A hum of vibrations played through its structure, a strange musical rhythm that resonated softly in tune with the electrical beat.

At the same time, the AI spoke through the utility disc, clearly recognising the emanations as a communicable language.

"We are the Jzu Krrm." It replied. "We are the stone of Dagen's stone."

The Herald just will not die, and is becoming successively more dangerous with each attempt to destroy it. We've had a planet, and now a star. What's next? What will it actually take? 
Never fear, dear readers, for the conclusion to this part of Shay and Yugan's journey will happen in the next chapter!
Meanwhile, the defenders at Earth are forced towards taking a proactive attitude to defending their home. Will this do some good or will it backfire?
Lastly, and most definitely not the least, we have the chapter ending, and this is a very significant reveal in the lore. Has your understanding of the Sundering now changed? Because ... it was psychological, yes, but it was also a very literal physical thing.
If any of you guessed 'their ancestors were a hybrid race', then you were correct. Who saw this coming? Be honest with me! I haven't seen anybody theorise that so far!