First Contact

It is good. There is no other reason to do something other than that reason. - Dalvanak the Maimed One

The system was dangerous.

It was full of automated defenses that reacted quickly and suddenly to any intruders. Massive C+ cannons were capable of destroying even a Harvester class PAWM with only a few volleys. Missile launchers were capable of delivering shoals of missiles that would blot out even the heaviest task force.

The planets had automated defenses. Automated law enforcement systems to maintain order.

That wasn't why it was dangerous.

Ten years prior of virulent bioweapon had killed off billions of the inhabitants.

They hadn't stayed dead.

Well, not exactly.

The dead got up and hunted, killing any of their own kind, any sentient life, they found.

Those they killed got up and killed.

Within a few months the system was inhabited only by the dead.

Only a few tens of millions of dead. The rest of the inhabitants either eaten or rotting away after being killed a second time.

Silence had descended on the system.

It was a Terran Tomb World (Dalvanak the Maimed One had so determined that was that type of world's designation)

It was filled with treasures, for those willing to brave the Hungry Dead (Dalvanak the Maimed One had named them that) to carefully recover treasures from the vast treasure vaults (Dalvanak had named them 'malls') that dotted the cities.

One had to land at the starport, avoid the law enforcement drones, make their way to the 'mall' AKA Treasure Vault. Enter the vault. Stealthily scavenge cred-sticks and pay-cards from the dead lemurs, then enter one of the vast vaults.

Each journey to the Tomb World, those who braved its dangers always stopped to complete the test of skill and determination to use the Great Claw to retrieve a treasure.

The trips were infrequent. There were many Tomb Worlds. Hundreds of them.

For years, nothing more than the dead and the infrequent Tomb Raider (Dalvanak had named them that) inhabited the planet.

Then came the phasic shades.

An accident had released them. They had flooded across the Cygnus-Orion Galactic Arm Spur, killing sentient and sapient life by the tens of billions. Anywhere the superluminal communication network reached, the shades could reach also. They hid in the silence spaces between the 1's and 0's of digital communication. They sought out their prey.

And killed them.

In a month, the population of the Cygnus-Orion Galactic Arm Spur had been reduced by over half.

A crash project was engaged in a space elsewhere. Five years there. A week Galactic Local. Alfred E-Von Neuman machines were embedded in every stellar mass in the Galactic Arm Spur. Nearly a billion stars.

Then they went off in what Dalvanak the Maimed One had labeled "The Stellar Flashbang Event". Over a second and a half over a hundred bursts of opposing phasic energy were released from the stars.

The phasic shades in the stellar systems were dissolved by the event. Even ones deep underground, ones in transit through the superluminal communication links, even ones on the opposite sides of the planet.

For up to sixty million light years away, the SFE was visible in real time, as it went off. Astronomers within the sixty-million light year bubble all saw it happen at the same time. Many stellar civilizations tried to figure out how it could be seen at the same time across hundreds of light years of their own nations.

But the shades were gone.

On the Tomb Worlds was another effect.

The majority of the Hungry Dead fell down, returned to death, leaving behind less than 1% of 1% of their numbers.

Not that it mattered.

Those worlds were dead.

After all, they were Tomb Worlds.

Silence reigned on those worlds as the rest of the Cygnus-Orion Galactic Arm Spur tried to pick up the pieces.

Those left behind were startled to discover that the shades had driven the Atrekna nearly extinct. Hundreds of worlds found nothing more than silent works of the Atrekna, huddled servitor-species, and quiet Dwellerspan. The more aggressive and phasically active of the Dwellerspawn were gone, killed by the phasic shades.

The servitor species were just thankful to have survived and wanted no part of engaging the Inheritor explorers and recon forces in combat.

The Tomb Worlds continued on in silence.

On one, just as night fell, a trio appeared just outside a massive starport. The air seemed to vibrate, then separate into strings that went from clear to full of color. The strings solidified into a small group of Atrekna dressed in finery. Two Atrekna were the exception. One wore only a bandoleer decorated with Telkan, Terran, Atrekna, and Tukna'rn skulls, carrying a spear with a cruel looking knife on it. The other was dressed in shining loricated armor, with blades spread out behind it like wings.

"Do not use a communal mind or share thoughts," the leader, who had only two fingers on one hand, stated with its voice. "Any surviving Hungry Dead (I named them that) will be attracted by such powers."

The others nodded.

"It is there, at the starport. I saw it when I arrived here to endure the Test of the Tombs of the Mad Lemurs of Terra," a Young One stated, pointing at the starport. The Young One still had the bruising on its torso that had been inflicted by the Conveyance of the Trial of Terror and Visions.

The others looked, seeing the huge vessel, and nodded.

The group made its way to the starport, walking on their feet. Their legs were strong, capable of supporting their own weight as they walked. They took breaks twice to regain their strength, then moved on.

The massive ship had set down in the starport. It had been living once.

Now it was dead. The flesh rotted and sagging from the mechanical parts.

They small group used physical tools to enter the starship wreckage. They moved through the rooms full of the foul outgassing of corruption. They stopped to examine the glittering crystals.

"Here," the one in loricated armor called out. She, and she was a she because she had decided that she was a she, called out, kneeling down next to thick eight sided violet crystals embedded in the solid 'foam' bed.

The others moved over to her.

"Want some candy?" the nude one asked.

"Indeed, my friend," Dalvanak said. "The primary ship datacore is still charged. The information we want is at hand."

He reached out with his maimed hand, setting it on top of one of the crystals.

Dalvanak's eyes filled with purple fire as he tore through the security measures with ease and began reading the information.

"From one of the primary research worlds," Dalvanak said. "It may not be the world that the main research was being pursued, but it will lead us to that world."

The Mistress of Blades knelt next to another computer core, reading the contents of the crystal after smashing aside the safeguards. The blades that made up her wings glimmered with restrained power.

"They sent a strike force here in hopes of ambushing us or discovering our lair," she said softly.

"Shit. Happens," the nude one said.

"Indeed, my friend. They were doubtlessly overwhelmed by what I have labeled 'the Hungry Dead' and now have joined them," Dalvanak said. He stood up.

"We should investigate, ensure they do not remain," another, known as "Sees Through Liquid", stated.

"Anytime," the nude one whispered, its voice deep and resonant.

Dalvanak led the others out of the ruined and rotting craft, orienting himself by looking at the city skyline.

They made their way slowly to the Great Tomb, taking frequent breaks. The nude one stayed at the sides, moving quickly, jumping up on top of vehicles, climbing walls to hang from outcroppings and stare at the streets, the spear held confidently in one hand.

Eventually, they reached the Great Tomb.

"Dead transports," Sees Through Liquid stated, pointing.

"Want some candy," the nude one stated.

As they walked by, the Mistress of Blades examined the wreckage. "Servitor heavy combat suit weapons killed it," she examined it closer. "It was being devoured by the Hungry Dead when it was killed. It was killed again with servitor plasma weapons."

"It was good of them to do that," Dalvanak said. He looked at the roof of the building. "These servitors have the ability to feel compassion. That means they can feel fear and a desire for self-preservation. We should move carefully."

The group found the doors locked and barred. The others withdrew and watched the Young One with the bruising jimmy open a door, look inside, then wave the group inside.

Their feet were silent, clad in slippers, as the Young One led them through the back passages, up stairs, and through a winding course.

Twice they found painted murals.

"Servitors," Dalvanak said. "They are capable of artistic expression."

"We should approach them with the outstretched hand of peace," another, called "Runs Toward Knowlege", said carefully.

"Indeed," Dalvanak said.

They heard voices and stopped. Dalvanak tilted his conical head, listening closely.

"It is Type-Fourteen Servitors. They are speaking the language of the Mad Lemurs of Terra," Dalvanak said. He nodded. "Of course they are. There are educational devices within this Treasure Vault and they have been here for long months."

"Knowledge brings survival," Runs Toward Knowledge said, folding his hands inside the sleeves of his embroidered and decorated raiment.

Dalvanak drew himself up and led the group into a large room. There were multiple tables, vending machines against one wall, two food dispensers, and counters.

The short, fuzzy, wide-eyed servitors all jumped up in shock, several keening in fear.

"We come in peace," Dalvanak said, using the Terran Descent Human language. "We mean no harm. We are not masters, merely explorers."

The servitors had fled against the wall. There was over a dozen of them, most cowered down and wrapping their arms over their head or pulling on their ears in fear.

One stood up, stepped forward, trying to calm itself even as it displayed fear.

"I am J'Keth," the servitor said. "I guide and lead the others."

The Atrekna nodded. "I am Dalvanak, known as The Maimed One," he pointed at each of the other Atrekna, giving their names. He turned back to the servitor. "It is good that you have survived."

J'Keth nodded, still showing fear.

"We do not seek to consume your flesh," Dalvanak stated. "We were merely curious about your survival. What transpired here?"

J'Keth took a deep breath. "The Dead Lemurs attacked and killed everyone but us," the servitor said. "We hid here, unable to escape, until the sky turned white at night and all the Dead Lemurs fell down again."

Dalvank nodded. "That occurred across all of the stellar systems."

"We have explored, carefully. We have only encountered two Dead Lemurs, but a strike to the head with a blunt object or a spear that penetrates their rock hard skulls will cause them to cease to be animated," J'Keth said.

"Is this all of you?" the Mistress of Blades asked, stepping forward.

The others reacted with fear again, crouching down and covering their heads or pulling on their ears.

"Yes. We are few," J'Keth looked at the others. "And sometimes we are lonely, but here, our life is good."

"That is good," Dalvanak said. He leaned forward slightly and J'Keth stepped back. "If you could, would have the others of your kind join you here or would you wish to return to the servitor warrens?"

J'Keth felt perspiration slick his fur on his back. It almost felt like a test.

Either way he answered could cause him to fail.

"We are free here," J'Keth said.

"And who taught you 'free'?" Dalvanak asked.

The servitor pointed at the table. Dalvanak looked and saw a brightly colored toy.

J'Keth moved over to it and touched it.

A round red fruit appeared.

"Apple," the object said.

"Apple," J'Keth repeated.

"Very good!" the object said cheerily, then pinged.

J'Keth turned it off, then moved to the food dispenser next to the vending machine.

Dalvanak looked on with curiosity, feeling his fellow Cult members reacting the same way.

The servitor J'Keth pressed a few holographic icons and the dispenser hissed.

J'Keth withdrew a shiny red fruit.

"It is an apple. It is delicious and nutritious, filling to eat," J'Keth said. He pointed at the object. "It, and others like it, have taught us words and meanings that we had never known."

"Including 'free'?" Dalvanak asked.

"We knew it, but had no word for it, no real concept of it," J'Keth said.

"Concept. Another difficult word," Dalvanak mused. He looked at J'Keth again. "Would you have the others of your kind join you here, on this dangerous world, where a Hungry Dead (I coined the term) could lunge out at any second, or would you wish to return to the servitor warrens."

J'Keth felt the sweat thicken.

"I would that my people join us here. That danger is part of being free," he hefted the apple. "It is as delicious as this apple."

Dalvanak nodded.

"Come, brethren, we are done here," Dalvanak said.

The others merely nodded.

"Want some candy?" the nude one asked, stopping and turning slightly in the doorway. Before J'Keth could answer, it was gone.

Dalvanak led the others out into the parking lot, looking around.

He carefully drew a complex rune, then circled it, drew more runes, then circled that. He put runes around the edges, then stepped back.

"We will no longer come here," Dalvanak ordered. He waved at the Treasure Vault. "This is their world now."

The others nodded.

Dalvanak turned to the bruised Young One.

"You shall be called "Finds That Which Is Hidden"," Dalvanak commanded.

"Thank you, master," the newly named Atrekna said, bowing.

"We shall now do something for no other reason than it is in our power and is what other species, native to this place, call 'good' to do," Dalvanak said.

The others nodded as Dalvanak waved his hand and fire leapt up from the tarmac at precise points. He began to chant as the complex sigil began to glow. At the cresendo of his chanting, a portal tore open in mid-air.

Dalvanak led the others through it and it closed silently. Just a slight ripple in midair.

-----

J'Keth was on the roof, staring at the parking lot, trying to understand what had happened the night before. He was looking at the

The Masters should have collected them at best, eaten them at worst.

But the Masters did not clad themselves as the ones who had barged into the dining hall were clad.

He took another bite of the apple, relishing the taste, as he wrestled with his own thoughts.

A portal suddenly rippled into existence where the Masters had drawn a strange and complex thing on the ground. It was reflective, looking like a liquid mirror in midair.

Others of his people came shuffling out. Some were weeping, some where pulling at their own ears in agitation.

More and more portals appeared and more of his people shuffled out.

J'Keth turned and ran, calling out for the others.

-----

"They are all gone. The servitor warrens are now empty," the Mistress of Blades said.

Dalvanak nodded, staring at the complex phasic machinery in front of him.

Crystals hovered and spun, song notes shimmered in the air, complex biomechanical systems still moved.

The whole thing was connected to another place.

"We now know where the Grand Project is taking place," Dalvanak said. "The project our foolish, suicidal brethren think will win a war we have already lost."

"Are you sure that others of our kind still live and continue the experiments?" Sleeps With One Eye Open asked.

The Atrekna with the flute played a curious flurry of notes.

Dalvanak nodded.

"I can sense them. They continue the project, convinced if they just destroy the two other hyperatomic planes, they will win a war that has been lost," Dalvanak said.

"What the fuck are you?" the nude one asked.

"Exactly. All it will do is force the Inheritors of Madness to somehow weaponize the burning hyperatomic planes. The fire will not slow them, just as the burning of the ancient hyperatomic plane has been no barrier to the great gathering machines or some of the Inheritor and Lemurs," Dalvanak said.

He drew the heavy Terran mag-ac pistol from his belt and pointed at one portal.

"That. That one leads to the primary research facility," Dalvanak said. He shifted his hand and the light went green on the pistol.

"The Inheritors were unable to stop them," Dalvanak said, walking briskly toward the portal. "So now, it lays upon our shoulders to stop our misguided and ignorant brethren."

"With violence," the Mistress of Blades added.

"Free candy," the nude one said.

"Indeed," Dalvanak said.

He stepped through the portal.

The others followed.