The Cold Dark - Logs of an Etherium Survivor

[|nfrared]

Who are The Etherium [?]

I watched over them, watching the last of my kind as they mustered their concentration to control these humans. The prion pathogen has been very effective. While some of those who had just awoken were only able to control perhaps one, a fully awakened and practiced Etherium survivor could control up to 10 remote human minds, allowing them to crew entire transports without aid from another.

I was afraid. I had known fear like no other living entity, watching my entire species - save this small few - wiped out in a matter of moments. It had been some hours ago now. But I had watched. I had seen them approach, systematically theorising our defences, our weaknesses. There could be only one reason for that. I mentally executed the commands to modify the weapons grid on their departure. I now knew there would be more.

I felt the fear. To not do so would indicate intellectual deficiency. We had seen the larger ships, the destroyers. Our defences would repel them, but I knew that once that path was opened it would only be a matter of cycles before even larger vessels arrived, like the first. They would wear us down until we were ground to dust.

What did they want? I did not know. There had been some human equipment, primitive, useless firearms and explosive ordinance. I had thought to discard them but the explosives may be useful for the mining operations below on our new potential home. It was true humans could survive here. But that was all, their existence pointless.

With those deposits, large swathes of Moros became potentially habitable for our species. It would be a extraordinary task, rebuilding the Empire from nothing but scraps. Humiliating. Degrading.

Negotiations with humans had begun, the increasing scrutiny compromising my objectives. I had responded with lies of course, maintaining our illusion. If they knew the truth, we would already be dead.

How long could our respite last?

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Shard - The Faceless One

[|nfrared]

I knew now, that the time had come. I had weighed the options, measured the known variables again and again. But with humans there were few known variables. It was a hard lesson to learn. Ones interpretation of agreements and diplomacy varied from group to group, some working together in a haphazard way. They could be so powerful, I thought, if only they were more organised.

This is why we had only few problems with our prions. We do the thinking, making more measured decisions. This was preferable for piloting or vessel maintenence But human diplomacy was highly immersive. Draining.

I knew they would come. Sooner or later, whether delayed by any cunning I could gather, they would come. I had analysed this thousands of times. The Order were highly secretive and for all intents as hostile as the Nomads. Bounty Hunters don't like Nomads or Order, but either group could potentially have allies, and the fleets witnessed in recent system analysis would be capable of removing them. Zoners were anomalies, and avoided conflict where possible. Corsairs were almost completely opposite and war driven. And then there was the Colonial Republic.

These humans had contacted us, finally noticing the restored site. How they learned of this we can surmise was from contact with one of these groups. We did not know. But we knew they wanted it back. They were so versatile, as a lifeform, that it would not matter where we went or what measures we took they would eventually discover us again.

We could not survive in one place. I had found my flawed logic. We lacked mobility, and as in any natural order, we would perish unless we could adapt.

We needed something large, enough to hide our true nature. Sentry, the diplomat from the Republic had told me to use the human neural net to find out more about them, and I had. They were capable of vessels much larger than years of toil here could produce. Able to defend themselves and move from area to area. A craft able to support smaller vessels but maintain mobility.

They would want something. That was the nature of humans. Diplomacy was always a means to gain. Even the credits gained from our front, our "mining group", would not be enough for them to part with such a thing. We needed... We needed...

My gaze fell to the purple planet below, our home bonded to the salvaged storage tanks silhouetted against Moros's promise of a new start. Everything we had created, and some we had scavenged. What would the cost be, for another last chance for my kind?

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Shard - The Faceless One

[|nfrared]

The others slept now, in their hibernation chambers in the cargo bay. Now they slept, controlling prions aboard the vessel as crew, and I knew I could not promise when they would awaken. We had paid the ultimate price, but we knew it was time to move on. The diplomatics of the agreement had been draining, wearing, and I was glad they were over - for now.

All but a few, those I had chosen, entrusted. I would need them to stay awake and coordinate with me as we began to learn of our new mobile home - the Evolution.

We had limited knowledge of this vast human craft, and could only harness a fraction of its capabilities. But as we accustomed ourselves to this nomadic existence we would grow stronger. We had arrivied with nothing but a scrap of our craft and now had...This. The logical conclusion would be to repeat the process in another location, using what we had learned of the humans to better disguise ourselves.

The mining story had aroused some suspicion amongst some of those humans we had encountered. I found that a small group of freelance pilots posing as mercenaries would go unnoticed more easily. So my prion Deidre became the leader of the human group known as the Void Runners.

It did not take us long to find another wreck to call home. This one had been heavily damaged, as at Moros. Again, we repaired the vessel, faster this time with more access to resources. Soon we had pressurised sections, our transports unloading materials required to repair the vital systems.

Hidden in the bowels of this human structure would be our people, contained, but alive. We would continue to use the face of the humans as we regathered our strength.

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Shard - The Faceless One

[|nfrared]

Many months later...



The slumbering form twitched suddenly, the alien appearing to merge with the survival pod, shifting in subtle ways as if manipulating something deep within. This was indeed the case, having undertaken the transformation to best adapt to this hostile sector.

But it was done now, the alien slowly extracting itself from the device that it had been working intently upon. Most Etherium could never return themselves from this state, giving their lives to replicate some small relic of a pre-invasion Empire and becoming at one with it. Only more evolved Etherium such as the Elder or those he imparts such precious secrets to could hope to survive such a transmutation.

It was some hours before Shard was strong enough to stand. Before him was the Seed - all of the secrets the Etherium had gathered, condensed into an orb no larger than a childrens plaything. From this seed New Etheria would be born.

His slender form drapped in a long dark robe, the now-humanoid Elder commanded his prions to prepare the communications array. Gathering his awareness, his attention growing sharper by the second, he composed himself for the ordeals to come.

The prions had kept him alive, all this time in the bowels of the station the occupied. They were able to obtain almost anything, using the guise of the Void Runners to hide the cornerstone of a shattered empire, the bank of knowledge - the precious Elder.

The ancient alien turned its attention to assessing what assets remained. What could be of use in this cursed place? How many of his race lived still?

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Shard - The Faceless One