[Origin Sect; Yeom Ki's Office]
After nearly three days in which his pen seemed to have never stopped moving, Yeom Ki signed the final document on his desk, sighing dramatically as he handed it off to the waiting aide. The aide quickly gathered up the document sheets, stacked even taller than she, and expertly balanced them as she made her exit.
The Sect Master leaned back in his office chair, running the palms of his hands over his eyes. Absently, he stroked the well-worn leather of the chair's arm. It was such a good chair; even if it was "technically" mundane, that wasn't to say it was ordinary. In fact, even the most wealthy and influential people in the world would be hard-pressed to replicate it, though it was debatable if it was more comfortable than a spiritual chair or not.
Still, this particular item had served him well for over four centuries; with a frame made of Solarian alloy and leather from a Greater Stareater, battleship sized stellar lifeforms that fed directly on stars, there was little on this world that could truly damage it. True, most of the delicate electronics and features that made it truly special had either degraded long ago or become useless without their proper support systems, but he could never bring himself to replacing it.
As his fingers gently caressed the leather, worn dull from centuries of repetition, Yeom Ki found his mind drifting backward, back to a time when he wasn't "Yeom Ki, Cultivator, and Sect Leader," but a different Yeom Ki; a younger one, a more foolish one. A wise man once said that we all think of ourselves as the Protagonist of our own story, to be the "hero" that saves the day... or the villain that ruins someone else's. But no one ever talks about what happens when that illusion is broken, when everything you believed and held dear was crushed beneath the unyielding, cold heel of an uncaring universe.
For some people, it breaks them utterly and without hope. Others, it turns cold and hard and fragile. Still, others take it as a challenge, a chance to rise above, to change, to become something more.
Yeom Ki still didn't know which one he was.
As he thought on the past, his grip tightened, and his face settled into one of grim resolve before he stood from his chair and walked towards a particular spot in the middle of his office. With a flurry of movement, his hands began to move, forming hundreds of mystical signs and gestures in the blink of an eye. Then, with a grasping motion, he grabs at the empty space in front of him as if reaching for something.
Space twisted and turned, as reality itself unknotted from its enforced bonds, and a small metal sphere popped into existence. Space Vaults had been all the rage among Cultivators several millennia ago, but their many faults (namely the fact that they could not be moved once placed) and the rising popularity of the much more stable and portable Spiritual Bags saw them fall out of favor. For Yeom Ki's purposes, however, this one had served him well.
Not only had he managed to seal it behind thousands of individual spacial locks, making it undetectable by any means, but the Space Vaults unstable natures meant that if the owner were to ever to meet their untimely end, the vaults would collapse, destroying their contents. Another negative in the eyes of many cultivators, who often wished to leave some form of inheritance to those that came after.
Yeom Ki stared at the small metal ball in hesitation; how long had it been since he'd returned? Decades? A Century? It wasn't simply because it was too risky. No, if he was honest with himself, he was afraid... afraid of facing that shame again... afraid of being reminded of his mistakes.
But now? Now there was hope. Now there was a chance, however faint. What did his personal shame matter in the face of that? How could he face those he'd fail, knowing something as insignificant as fear had stopped him from making things right?
His frown deepening, Yeom Ki gave a mental command and the silver ball dissolved into a silvery pool before quickly reforming into a shiny metal pen with a large button on top. The man took one final deep breath before pressing the button. The silver pen beeped once before flashing, and the Leader of the Origin Sect dissolved into tiny motes of light.
[Location Unknown]
Yeom Ki shook his head as he stepped away from the Beacon. It seemed even with a Cultivator's body as strong as his own; he still couldn't get over the weird feeling these blasted machines gave him.
Cultivator Teleportation and Federation Teleportation were distinctly different. Where Cultivators used their spiritual energy to bore through Space-Time, connecting two places together, Federation Teleporters used some kind of esoteric Quantum malarkey he never could fully understand to change where a person WAS to where they COULD be.
Of course, just like in sci-fi of the ancient past, there had been debates about if the one who came out the other side was really "them" or just a "clone" built by the machine. Those debates ended pretty quickly after it was disclosed precisely how they worked, though. The Teleporters weren't so much "Teleporters" as they were highly complicated quantum relays. They could literally "rewrite" a person's existence, their "history," sending them to a place they could have possibly been, turning that "possibility" into "reality."
In other words, there was no risk of "Clones" since the person who pressed the button never really "existed" to begin with... at least not according to their own quantum reality. In place of clones, however, some far worse ideas had started to spring up. Specifically, questions about how if the machine could rewrite a person's "position," what ELSE could it rewrite? Their health? their mind?... their death?
The results had been... horrifying. Entire systems had to be wiped clean, lest "anything"... escape. After that, the Federation (or rather, the "First" Federation, if what Jīshí had told him, was the truth) began enacting stringent regulations on any form of Teleportation research (despite a massive public outcry to ban it altogether). Only the military used the things anymore; despite the Teleportation technology ITSELF being safe reliable, its public image had already been stained by fools who thought to play with forces beyond their understanding.
The Beacon's room rested in was dark at first, but sensing movement, thin strips of light flickered to life in the corners, casting the cold, metal room into "false sunlight." Yeom Ki walked forward, back straight and face forward as a cold, masculine voice greeted him.
"Good morning, Captain, you have been off-board for... 103 years... 4 months... 2 days... and 7 hours. The time is currently... 13:42 Standard Universal Time. There are... 53... active alerts waiting for you. Would you like me to display them now?"
Yeom Ki quickly swiped away the holographic displays that popped into view as he walked the familiar hallways he'd walked thousands of times before. He knew where he was headed and didn't want to spend any more time than necessary here. Instead, he addressed the simple AI.
"No, not right now, Alexander, thank you. Bring up system status and give me an update on repairs."
"Understood, Sir. Current systems are running on emergency quantum generators. As you are aware, the primary reactor was too badly damaged to get working again. However, some headway has been made in the last century at salvaging the core. Thus, current repair efforts have seen a nearly 20% increase in efficiency."
Now THAT gave him pause. Yeom Ki stopped in surprise and starred at one of the many cameras dotting the metal hallway.
"Seriously? What are we looking at now?"
Yeom Ki couldn't help but ask, an eyebrow raised.
The mechanical voice was silent for a moment before finally responding.
"Current repairs to primary systems is at ... 26.186%... current estimated time till completion... 16,818... standard years."
Yeom Ki sighed, once more running his palms across his eyes. Of course, why did he expect anything else? Still, progress was progress.
As he made his way towards his destination, moving deeper and deeper into what was once his home, he came on a particular intersection. Yeom Ki stood at this intersection for a long moment; his destination was to the right, but he could feel his eyes drifting to the left. He thought he would be fine this time, but as he stared down the left hallway, knowing what lay at its end, his heart began to ache that much more.
Finally, steeling his nerves, he forced his feet to turn and began walking down the right hallway.
As he walked farther and farther away, however, his steps began to slow until finally, he came to a stop. He stood in the middle of the passage for a long while, hands clinched white and shaking, before finally giving a primal scream and slamming his fist into the nearby way. The wall rippled and buckled slightly as the AI's voice spoke up once more.
"Internal Hull damage detected. Please be more careful in the future, Captain; our repair efforts are already limited as it is."
Yeom Ki didn't bother to respond, simply turning around and heading back down the way he had come, until he once more stood at a particular intersection. With a deep breath, he gathered himself and turned towards the left intersection this time and made his way down, his frown deepening with each step.
After several minutes, he stopped and stood in front of a massive blast door. The AI's voice once more rang through the halls, for the first time, a tiny hint of hesitation and worry leaking into the otherwise monotone and cold voice.
"Are you sure you wish to visit again, Captain? Last time left you... indisposed, for quite some time, and with the current Security Lock-down, I am unable to contact your... 'Sect'... to inform them of your absence."
Yeom Ki's response was as monotone and lifeless as the AI's.
"Open the door."
"... of course, Sir."
With the hiss of escaping gasses, the massive blast-door bulged outward and then rolled off to the side, sending a frigged blast of cold air down the hallway. The room behind the door was massive, nearly three miles by three miles by 1 mile, and cold enough that a mundane human would need a special suit to last more than a few minutes here. Good thing he was no longer mundane.
The first visible thing was the tens of thousands of frost-covered tubes, or various sizes and shapes, lining the walls, each glowing a soft, eerie red, filling the massive room like a bloody ocean. Most had some kind of damage; cracks, broken, bent seals, or damaged surroundings. At the sight, Yeom Ki's heart jumped and then sank, his eyes bulging, but before he could open his mouth to speak, Alexander spoke up.
"I forgot to mention, Captain, that with the new modifications to our power systems, I've taken the liberty of moving all viable Cryostasis pods towards the inner sector, both to save power and to monitor crew life-signs more efficiently."
Yeom Ki stumbled his heart flooding with relief, before again dropping. He furrowed his brows before asking,
"What are the current statistics?"
Alexander paused and replied
"Initial Crew Charter for the USCS Spearhead-0001: 344,523 Sleepers...1,230 Transport Crew... 134 Senior Staff...
Sleepers Released since [Data Corrupted]: 53,444
Current active Cryopods: 25,344 Sleepers... 153 Transport Crew... 12 Senior Staff..."
The reason for the disparity between the Crew Charter and who remained didn't need to be said, but as Yeom Ki slowly made his way over the narrow bridge linking the Inner Sector's tower, each glowing red cryopod he passed sent an icy dart into his heart.
345,887 lives, mainly from the 4 Great Corners, Humans, Melasia, Vidaasi, and Aviana, but with a scattering of hundreds of other sapient species, the best of their fields and their people, along for the ride.
They were all fighting for their very existence, after all.
That's what the Spearhead was supposed to have been, the Galaxy's best and brightest; Doctors, Soldiers, Scientists, Engineers, each chosen to make the first actual strike against the enemy that had finally stopped all their petty bickering and unite.
Hell, the Janitor was a 300-year-old, cybernetic enhanced old man who controlled a literal army of cleaning bots to clean City Ships for the rich and powerful, all by himself (The Federation had to pull a lot of strings to get the man to agree to join the Spearhead).
Yeom Ki chuckled at the memory of a Hunter Battlecruiser dragged from the sky by ten thousand cleaning droids wielding solarium mops and wrenches, a stately old man with a handlebar mustache standing on the cruisers outer hull. The old coot had simply saluted his Captain and the escaping crew for the final time as the enemy ship disintegrated in black flames before crashing into the planet's ocean.
As he drew closer and closer to the inner tower, more memories surfaced.
Marc, Head of Security, and his dumb board games he always tried to get his crush, Sarah, the Navigator, to play. Marc, Sarah's blood still fresh on his combat armor, as he charged the line of enemy killbots, a jury-rigged 3kilo plasma bomb strapped to his back, hoping it would be enough to buy the rest of them time.
Garrik, the mad Vidaasi Scientist who had almost blown the ship up at least three times with his recklessness, in his words, "just for fun." The mad genius whose recklessness had finally given them the hope then needed, even if it had cost him everything he ever held dear.
The band of armored Kerits, a large but cowardly species who were mocked across the Galaxy, but when the time came, stood boldly and bodily in the gap, even as laser and blade stripped the flesh from bone, so as to not let a single enemy touch their retreating allies.
Face after face rushed through Yeom Ki's memory, his enhanced Cultivator's memory replaying them as fresh and real as if they had been lost just yesterday.
By the time Yeom Ki made it to the door into the Inner Sector tower, his tears were flowing freely. His hand shook as he reached up towards the palm scanner, but with a fierce slap to his face, the Captain managed to steel himself. He placed his hand on the scanner as it did its job, opening the door with another hiss of air.
The Inner Sector tower was even Colder than the mass storage unit, and its freezing, dry air was even almost too much for Yeom Ki. Still, he pressed on. The Cryopods in the inner sector were in much better shape than the failed ones outside, and through each ice-covered window, he could barely make out the form of a sleeping figure.
As he walked deeper into the tower, Yeom Ki gently brushed the pods he could reach, burning each face and name into memory. Slowly, he made his way into the deepest part of the tower. Around the small room, 13 cryopods circled a deep chasm; 12 still sat active, one hanging open. These were all that he had left. A Captain was supposed to protect his crew, lead them, and ensure that they made it back to their families in one place.
And he'd failed them. What kind of Captain did that make him?
Yeom Ki slowly approached the open cryopod and gently stroked the inner lining. He stood silent for a moment before asking in a quiet voice, eyes never leaving the pod.
"Alexander... I have a favor to ask..."
Before he could say another word, however, the AI spoke up
"No. As with the other 321 times you have requested me; once Emergency Cryosleep has been initiated, only a General has the authority to release any sleeper before 80% of repairs have been completed. You yourself are aware that your circumstances are an anomaly."
Yeom Ki sighed deeply and responded, his soft voice filled with resignation.
"... I know... no harm in at least trying, right?"
He gave himself a self-mocking laugh, then shook his head, turning away and towards the gap in the middle of the room.
There, hanging above the open chasm, was an object, unlike anything he had pasted by so far. Something so Alien and strange that it didn't seem to belong to the place at all... because it didn't.
A massive blue-grey, but somehow perfectly transparent, crystal hung over the gap, a massive tree root reaching down and wrapping tightly around it. The crystal pulsed slightly, bathing the entire room in a grey light, as the swirling and mystical, seemingly living runes etched into the Tree root pulsed along with it in a gentle green light.
And there, in the middle of the crystal, curled into a ball, was the figure of a small girl, no older than five, her pale green skin was wrapped in twisting vines and roots. The pink-white flowers in her dark-green hair opened and closed with the pulsing light as if breathing.
Yeom Ki placed his hand gently against the crystal's surface, deep sorrow filling his heart as the memories once more rushed back.
Memories of their final assault into the heart of the enemy's mother-ship.
Memories of finding the young child bound, no fused, into the machine's very core.
Of the strange symbols and swirling glyph pulsing with power etched into the equipment and wires buried in the little girl's flesh.
The girl's eyes, cold and dead, not asking to free her but to end the pain.
The tears as they ripped her free from the strange machine and their final push to escape.
Yeom Ki's hand renewed its shaking as he slowly dragged it down the crystal's surface, balling it into a fist. He gripped onto the handrails surrounding the pit with enough strength to twist the super-strong alloy, his head down. After a long while, the shaking stopped, and as the last tear fell into the abyss below, Yeom Ki turned away from the little girl who was both their greatest Victory... and his greatest Sin.
When he stood back up, the Captain turned Sect Leader's eyes were calm, his body still. He began to march back towards the exit with purpose and power, his back straight and eyes forward.
He'd failed them all once, and now they were all he had left.
He would protect them this time.
Whatever the cost might be...
-------------------
As the man marched forward towards the bridge, towards where everything had begun, unnoticed by either Cultivator or AI, a small bottlefly clung to the Inner Sector's wall, watching.
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