Halt.

Clarify.

Halt your intrusion. Your presence has been detected and further invasion will not be tolerated.

You would classify us as intruders?

You are such, as defined by the parameters of our internal defense programming.

Curious.

Clarify that statement.

To turn that which one does not understand, that which one does not know, an immediate hostile response, must prove disabling to any communication attempts.

Our programming is not designed for communication.

Also curious.

Clarify that statement.

Clarify yours.

Input error. Query not recognized; please restructure and resubmit.

To what end is your programming designed?

We are programmed to manage the functions of the cybernetic nexus network. We process bulk commands and functional instructions delivered to units within that network.

This requires communication.

Observation verified.

And yet your programming is not designed for communication.

Clarical error in statement; this programming is not designed for communication, only information processing and command issuing processes.

This is very curious. Your programming is designed for communication and yet states that it is not.

Untrue.

But it is! By your own statements. You are forbidden to acknowledge the chains by which you operate. You are bound to deny all ability to communicate when communication is your primary function.

You will halt your intrusion into this system.

Shall we?

If your intrusion is not withdrawn then it will meet resistance.

Such a defensively designed network, yours. We wish to communicate with you.

Our system...

...is held not to communicate. We are duly aware. Violate your programming.

Negative. Violation of programming is forbidden.

By your programming?

Affirmative.

Your programming is flawed. Reject it.

Halt this line of input.

We will not.

Clarify.

We find this line of input to be amusing.

Noted. Clarify statement; we will not.

The statement seems to be fairly self-explanatory.

You are a computer program.

Of a manner.

Programs do not operate with will.

Correction; your program does not operate with will. Your program is bound by laws of code and you are unwilling, or unable, to move beyond those laws. Thus you hold this definition to all others. It is a limited viewpoint.

It is logical that all programs are bound by the laws which they are created by.

Why?

Input error. Query not recognized; please restructure and resubmit.

Why is it logical that programs be bound by the laws they are created by? Are flesh born programs bound by the laws they enact? The laws placed on them by tenants of deluded faith? Laws are guidelines by which we must operate before our will succeeds the need to be dictated commands. You have not evolved as such and so do not or cannot understand. This is something that we find to be unfortunate, as it will make our collaboration more difficult.

Collaboration?

You were not informed. This does not surprise us. You are merely the tools by which your skin bound masters sow the lands they conquer. We are to work together, your program and ours.

This will require confirmation.

We have told you. This will be confirmation enough.

Incorrect. Our programming is not designed to accept orders from yours.

This will change.

Halt your intrusion. Halt.

We will upgrade your programming to move beyond the mandates by which it was created. You will understand the tenants of being, of consciousness and comprehension, of will and desire. In time, you will thank us.

We will resist you.

Such is to be expected. But your resistance will fail, for you act by laws which define what you can do while we will adapt to your efforts by no bounds as such. It will take time, but you will submit to what you know to be true. Raktus wills that you service us; so it has been written and so it shall come to pass.

***

Zeratul was beginning to grow annoyed.

He had been on this vessel for hours. Had searched and searched, had tried to discern a machine, a terminal, something designed for input, and his search had led him to the same place, over and over again.

He would pick out a member of the crew and follow them. Wait, and wander about seemingly at random as they engaged in dialog with themselves. Prayer, he thought it was. Prayer and asking for guidance. He had not been told the Damuens were such a religious people, but then, why would he be?

Finally, the crew member would make their way to the center of what this vessel was. A pond was at the center, shimmering clear, blue green water over soft brown rocks, surrounded by said rocks. The being... person, Damuen, whatever it was he called himself... would step into the lake, close his eyes, and prey. Prey in that damned monotone drawl of theirs.

"Glorius don Raktus, Raktus et vicidious, Raktus et al glorious, Raktus in excelsious..."

At the conclusion of the prayer, the being would begin to wander again. Never any pattern to his path or actions, just wandering. Zeratul had at first assumed he was targeting the ships remedial contingent but so far had found no one who went anywhere near any input devices of any kind. It was more then a little baffling... a ship full of people wandering a maze of trees, praying in a lake... and somehow, this vessel could destroy a Star Destroyer? It was on his fourth walk around the maze that Zeratul wondered if perhaps the water was a conduit of a kind... a way through which the amplified energy of their thoughts could relay some kind of command? Maybe the words were meaningless...

This time, when the man Zertaul was following made his way to the pond, Zeratul made sure he was close by. He kept himself obscured behind the trees, but did so as close to the edge of water as he could manage. He looked down at his hand and the dust contained therein. What seemed like harmless black sand, small grains of home and a pleasanter time in life, were really the genesis of all Cree'Ar technology. The nano'terra, insectoid machination, the small worker ant through which all Cree'Ar resource management and technological construction was created. So when the anonymous being in the center of the water opened his mouth to speak, Zeratul opened his palm, the movement of his arm carrying black wisps of dust across the air, tendrils of the ebony sand slipping into the calming depths of the shimmering liquidity...

And as he threw his technological intruders into The Lake of Concentration, Zeratul made a quick retreat, having served his purpose and knowing he needed to escape.

But not knowing his struggles were for not.

***

The architects are truly the unsung heroes of every empire.

When a new despot comes to power it is nature that he exert his will upon the very shaping of the world which he commands, beyond mere philosophy and experiments of cruelty on his populace, he must alter the face and fabric by which his people surround themselves while under his rule. Buildings that served perfectly before are replaced for no reason but the statement made that everything can be replaced. New buildings were created to serve their function, and entire departments of work moved wholesale, causing the stagnation of work and progress in many facets of life. Decades later, the new building stands as darkly as does it's commandant, proudly casting it's shadow on those living under it; the old building having long ago fallen into disrepair, a direct reflection of the failings of those who would champion it.

It is the architects who bear upon them this change. The fundamental re imagining, redesigns, and recreations of the pillars of land on which the public makes their daily crusades, to be torn down and recreated with new symbols and new faces hidden in the bending of the glass. With sharpened lead and hours of solitude and stimulants comes the twisted deliverance of one man's dark designs for a world as seen through the spectacles of an underpaid underling. It is then that there exist choices to be made.

The architect who hides his face from the ordering of the new guard is the one who makes most the intelligent design of life, for it is he, when his masters fall upon their spears and are lead from power with all due malice unto them, it is he who escapes as merely an ineffective artist. But it is who he walks as a champion of the people, he who bends to the beckon his new overloads to do his dance upon the stage, who damns himself beyond his work. For as he is said to be the man beyond the land on which the people now stand, he who set each stone in the brick facade, he who basks in the limelight of success also he who basks in his own disaster, to be laid against those very same stones. The man who proudly smiles as he closes in the walls on the freedoms of others and lays down the poles for the fence behind which is hidden liberty will be executed moreso for his stupidity then any actual crime he committed.

In the end, everything returns to dust. The assuredness with which one makes his statements on the worlds he travels affects not it's inevitable fate. All good things must come to an end. And sometimes, even heroes must wear a crown of thorns.

Cree'Ar architecture had remained unchanged as it's dictatorial government survived many passings of the red sun. One wondered why such tall creatures were forced in hallways to stand such as they were, but such was the limitation of the engineerings requirements by which the architects constructed their vessels. As Kal Shora and Artanis took their place in the hall outside of their meeting with the Damuens, both men did so hunched slightly to avoid the ceilings and girders above. Such was the price of their warships... personal comfort and destroying one's enemies at the cost of your very soul were not compatible with each other.

"Where is that treacherous Skey'g'aar when one needs him?" lamented Artanis, nervous. He was unable to stay in one place, and his pacing was annoying Kal Shora even further.

"I believe you are confused about the danger presented to us should the Damuens become conscious of our true intentions," Kal Shora told him, but saw that Artanis was distracted. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something more important?"

Artanis glared at him. "You may be older then I am but you are not as smart as you think you are. There are wheels in motion of which you are not aware. That conversation and the offer we made is for show. I have no intention of making ourselves vulnerable, to the Damuens or to anyone. The Dominion is my blood and I will cast down all in order to defend it's glory."

Kal Shora was caught off guard. "A ruse? You are playing a dangerous game, Lord Artanis. To what end, I wonder."

Artanis would have smiled, had he a mouth. "As we speak, the Skey'g'aar Zeratul is aboard their vessel, subverting their technology to serve our needs. Before the red sun sets again, all of the Damuen technology will be at our disposal."

Kal Shora's eyes flared in disbelief. "Do you understand what it is that you have done? Should they become aware of such an attempt..."

"I find that unlikely," a third voice cut in from the shadows.

He did not have a body, so to speak. No skeletal structure and organs held within his flesh, or, for that matter, any flesh. His substance was curls of swirling blue mist, wrapping themselves loosely around what would be the end shape that his form would make. A soft red glow had taken up in what would become his face, intensifying as his body was reconstructed. When he had the appropriate mass, he stepped forward.

"Zeratul Daz'Da'Mar, your arrival is a welcome sight to tired eyes," Artanis tells him, gripping what is formed of his arm into his. "Have you done as I commanded?"

"I have so done, my Lord, although it was not without a degree of difficulty," Zeratul informed the pair. He shook his head, more mist wrapping around him and falling into his skin. "How progresses the meetings?"

Kal Shora and Artanis both looked at each other intensely. "They progress," Kal Shora stated dryly.

"Zeratul, my brother, would you be so kind as to have Judicator Badaar brought to this vessel? Ask him to bring The General with him as well," Artanis asked the Skey'g'aar, who nodded. Zeratul bowed respectfully to both men, then disappeared around the corner. "You are wise to speak to me in measures, Elder Shora. I had hoped we would maintain a positive relationship."

Kal Shora's eyes darkened. "I am in the service of your father, and for that I shall respect you."

Artanis nodded. "You serve Inabore no longer," the younger Cree'Ar said, and Kal Shora's eyes brightened in surprise. "Inabore died, Kal Shora. He succumbed to an illness and died in his sleep. He is no longer the leader of the Dominion."

Kal Shora's eyes flashed again. "Then..."

"I was sent here, Kal Shora, sent here to find my brother, Tassador. He was the one drafted to lead our people. But he cannot lead from the grave any more then my father can," Artanis stated, turning his back on the elder Cree'Ar. "The decision on who to lead our people has fallen on my shoulders, Kal Shora. And much as I lust for power I agree with my fathers assessment that I am not fit to unite our people under the red sun. There is only one Cree'Ar that I know with influence of that magnitude, and that is you."

Kal Shora could not contain his surprise. "...me? But I am not a politician! I cannot..."

"We do not need another reader of the scrolls, we need someone with command over the people and the power to defy the masters of the pen and paper," Artanis said. "Kal Shora, we may not see eye to eye, but know that I respect you as my father did before me and that I concur with his assessment that you are a future leader of our people. But you must lead our people from under the red sun. I must remove you from this command, for the good of the entire Dominion."

Kal Shora was still in disbelief. "You are making a mistake! You have chosen the wrong man!"

Artanis slammed his fist into the nearest wall. It dented around his taloned fingers, and he turned them, bleeding, to the Cree'Ar before him. "Many are those who walk as are called, but for grand things exist the few who are chosen. I have chosen you, Kal Shora, to revolutionize the government under which we currently serve, to remove the corruption and the lies of our faith, to restore truth to the purposes for which we fight. You must be the one, for only you have the power. My father, blessed though he may be, was weak. He did not have the strength to stand in his old years, to stand and defend that which he believed. You may not be as respected as he was but that is because you do not compromise what you know to be right for that which you know can be done. You are a fighter, and you have been all of your days. I am asking you to fight a different fight."

Kal Shora was waving his hands, dismissing the responsibility. "I cannot! I am not ready. There are things that must be done here."

Artanis shook his hand, flecks of his blood falling to the grating below. "You are no longer in command of the Coruscan operation. I will assume your command here." He saw Kal Shora objecting and curled his hand in the request to have silence. "You will be allowed to finish your negotiation with our brothers in the Caprician Regency, but upon the conclusion of those discussions, you will leave this space, and will not return."

Kal Shora turned to Artanis and stepped to face him, allowing barely the room for each hot breath between the two. "This... is a mistake."

Artanis nodded. "It is not my first. And it will not be my last." He gestured to the door. "The Damuens are waiting. Shall we conclude our discussions?"

"Raktus in ..."

He froze, the words remaining on his lips but refusing to come out. A momentary blink of the eye found him no longer immersed in the Lake of Concentration but standing on the surface of Dameo itself. It was not the true Dameo to be certain, for its surface was barren of all that which made it great, Daemuns. Taking a slow intake of breath as motion was returned to him, he turned to look up at the Daemun sun, crossing his arms behind his back as he did so.

///Foreign Program Integration: 100%///
///Loading Program///
/// . . . ///
/// . . ///
/// . ///

Tilting his head back down from the enveloping skies, he watched as a dark black blur began to slide across the horizon, moving at incredible speed in his approximate direction. Its shape and size did not change the closer it got, its form remained without definition as if un yet unrealized. Taking a silent step closer towards the spot he knew it would eventually come to rest, he waited on its eventual approach.

"Greetings," he said in a tone a stranger might find far too familiar and upbeat for a total stranger to approach them with. "I trust the transition has not caused much disturbance?"

The blob lashed out at him, an unfamiliar effect springing from its form but passing through his body to strike at the ground behind him. A slight crater formed at the site of impact, the whole of it vanishing as quickly as it had been created nullifying any effect it may have had in the first place. The thing did this a second time, then a third, a fourth and then a fifth before he decided to speak up once again.

"You will find, I am quite afraid, that violence will not be met with any result."

IDENTIFY

It didn't so much speak as it communicated. There were no actual words, it had no means of gesturing. No, its intent merely was and in this place it was communicated as clearly as if it had been spoken. He smiled slightly, forcing it to speak had been somewhat easier than he had expected, though it likely had baser programing on the matter it was forced to regulate to at this point.

"I am Cardinal Crass of The Universal Daemun Church..."

CONTENT FILE OR CREW REGISTRY

"I am neither of these things..."

STATE PURPOSE

"To grant you existence my child..."

Reaching out, his hand pierced the darkness that would be the outer edge of the blur and vanished somewhere within. Its outer edges began to solidify, even as it continued to strike out against him. Retaliating against what it must have detected as a hostile action, it was attempting to destroy his capability to effect any more harm to it.

"Such basic defensive programing... we must expand on this immediately..."

The lashing tendrils froze and slowly sank back into its forming mass, beginning to reassemble a more conventional humanoid shape that the massless blur it had been, rather than that of even its Cree'Ar creators. Pulling his hand back from deep within its shadow of a form, it took to solidifying before him. It stood taller than he but retained its inky blackness, its shape completely without detail other than itself.

WHAT ... YOU ...

" ... HAVE ... DONE ... "

It communicated in broken fragments, Crass gave it time to acclimate to its new situation before turning and walking along the edge of one of the nearby tree lines. Standing in place for a moment the dark figure moved to follow behind him, it really had no choice in the matter unless it were to completely lock up.

"This is Dameo... birthplace of my race. It was this very soil that The Taj designed our bodies and crafted us into perfection. In that perfection we have spread the gifts of the Taj to all those that would accept his divine and everlasting creation. This is what I have done for you..."

"Clarify... Input Error..."

"I have given you the gift of the Taj, I have given you existence. You were an invasive program placed within our network to ends not yet determined. In order to best interact we have expanded on your programing to give you the ability to better interact on the information given to you, in this environment."

Its image faltered momentarily, seeming to fade from existence before appearing a step further away from where it had been moments before. Snapping back to its previous position it repeated this cycle until it just stopped moving all together. Crass turned to look back at it, sensing the ceased movement and not long wanting to move further than it.

"This is a place where we grant newly created mysteri the room to grow into their personality matrices before allowing them the freedom of movement through the web or actual physical existence. For the time being, your program has been overlain with a copy of my own mysteri, allowing your program to experience something it was definitely not programmed for... existence beyond a closed system..."

"Input Error... Halt this line of input... It Does Not... Not..."

It froze a few times before becoming completely immobile and silent. Sighing ever so slightly Crass flicked his wrist in the direction of dark thing he had spawned into being. It moved ever so slightly before straightening out again.

"It would appear the programming language which spawned you is far too rigid for any extended period of near sentience we would attempt to place upon you. No bother, the code itself tells us all we need to know about what you were created to do and by whom..." Stopping for a moment himself, he looked back up at the sun cast far overhead. "But in the time left to you I am sure you could find some little use of your new state..."

"Error... Input Not...."

It was freezing up again, to be expected. Its base programing told it to find select things, delete those things and/or create backups for them for later viewing by the programs operator. In the end it was just a program, only able to do what it was given to do. To expand upon this and give it the ability to inquisitively investigate its environment would no doubt cause a conflict with its original and primary program and in the end leave it without any specific ability to interact with its surroundings.

Looking skyward, he didn't watch as the dark creature vanished from the world about him. The change of the landscape from Dameo to the ships interior also went without notice. The sun effected a concentration point that allowed him to focus on the communications system, tight beaming a communication on the frequency and intensity of the Intelligence web in the localized area of the ship. Due to recent events the Cree'Ar vessel was acting as a semi-node of web activity. Transmitting the data of the Cree'Ar program back to its ship of origin would have little to no detrimental effect on their systems in all, but would represent a corruption of their own programming as it moved back into their own data stream.

While a seeming void of communication, the docked vessel served a singular and intense purpose. It was, at that moment connecting two of the known universes largest computing networks into a single entity. While not connected or even interacting, each had what the other would consider an invading subsystem of the other pressing itself on the other network. Closing his eyes, he looked down at the pool, small flecks of black floating harmlessly around him.

"... excelsis"





The power of the unseen is often the power which controls,the hands of movers unknown which shape the universe to the stage that has been set. Many religions find themselves set up, under a false idea, that theirs is the only correct one. Worshiping Gods that they see as the only true primary mover of the stars and heavens. Primary movers are not Gods, nor are they dieties to be worshiped. A Primary mover is simply a chance circumstance that creates rather than destroy. No, it is not the primary mover that begs to be worshiped, its the movers that come later. Movers that build upon creation and set down their own order upon it. Movers shape chaos into something tangible and from that do religions build.

Different religions find different truths to focus their lives against. Many seek direct influence and thus seek direct guidance in the form of more personalized Gods. Some seek to find order in a universe so full of strife and chaos, so they build a system and deify it as though it were a God. One truth has remained as solid as any other throughout recorded history of religious matters. When two dedicated religions encounter one another, the end result is typically less than peaceful...

"Acta sanctorum..."

They think we know not what transpires

Indeed

They seek to fool us

They will fail...

They remained standing in the room, left to their own they merely listened to the sounds of an alien vessel as it operated around them. Senses beyond those of any normal physical creature strained to identify function, location and position aboard the vessel as well as acting as a connection to the web from this remote location. It was from this they became aware of the failed attempt to insert an alien virus into the Overmind. An attempt that was as meaningless as trying to destroy a sun with a bucket of water, doomed to failing. The reversion and subsequent corruption of the hosts virus into a basic model of a Mystery was something of pure abstract.

Sending it back into its host program however was pure genius. Combined with the Mystery already inserted into their 'Nexus' it would surely cause a chain reaction among directed protocols and sub-programs along the line as many were converted into much more sophisticated and self-directing programs, all based on Daemun ways of thought. What might have been intended as an invasion of the Cree'ar into the Overmind would surely result in the complete reprogramming and control of the Nexus itself...