*




The "Black Rim"



The two men studied each other in calm silence, their shuttles having arrived at the deserted meeting barge. If there was one piece of equipment sacrosanct, it was a Blade's meeting barge. Every fleet had one and every fleet honored the tradition of an honest meeting with no treachery. No House violated the sanctity of the Meeting Barge for to do so would severe any chance of diplomacy or House maneuvering between themselves.

Even so, Barrador could not help but cast his eyes about the barge wondering if a hidden dart or poison laced handle would spell his end. Should his son take over his House and he ally with House Reaver shattering his family's understanding with House Hark, it would prove to be the undoing of everything he and his forefathers worked hard to build.

Would Stannes consider the violating of the Meeting Barge sanctity a price worth it?

He didn't think so but Stannes was old. And old men sometimes acted as if banking their future fortunes on a single throw of the dice.


*

Stannes stared at the man Barrador wondering if House Hark had decided to insult House Stannes by sending an underling family. But then, House Hark was the weaker and Barrador's record well known.

Did House Hark seek to employ the Barrador's military prowess against a greater House like Stannes?

What would be the gamble to House Hark if blame could be laid at the feet of a minor house?

A roll of the dice and Barrador unleashed, he would be hardpressed to leave the meeting barge alive. If his Blade surived against Barrador, Hark could cast blame on the meeting barge violation on the minor house and purge them from his lands as matter of saving face with the other Houses.

The audacity of such a plot would impress even the old man Reaver.

He wondered who would speak first? For to do so would make one beholding to the other and Barrador was merely a minor house. But it was he who sought the meeting.

As it turned out, he simply held out his hand lightly grasping a data crystal.

Barrador frowned but silently and cautiously took it. His hands were gloved and Stannes nodded approvingly at the other's paranoia.

His arm raised showing the minor house lord to a seat and receptacle.


*

Barrador's curiosity at what the data crystal held was overpowering and the Lord Stannes' face gave nothing away.

Turning his attention to the seat and the receptacle, he inserted the crystal and the footage that appeared instantly betrayed it's age.

This was many decades old!

The lights dimmed to allow for better viewing and Barrador recognized the earlier Blade design as the footage showed outside views of the craft. As the recording progressed, the exterior shots changed to the Blade's interior and the Stannes House Seal displayed prominently.

This was a royal craft.

Barrador shifted uncomfortably very aware that he was having a rare glimpse into the goings-on of a Royal House. Such glimpses usually held dire consequences and not given freely.

What Stannes wanted would cost. Of that Barrador had no doubt.

And then the minor house lord reeled in back in shock. For there, in plain view and smiling before whoever was making the recording came Cassius. Cassius Stannes, the eldest son of the Lord standing behind him.

The elder son had disappeared from public notice decades ago and it was generally believed the young Stannes was dead, either through a successful assassination attempt or due to some internal, secret squabble.

The mysteries surrounding any member of the Royal Houses are what their intelligence services lived for and each House held their secrets dear.

The data contained within the crystal was edited. Of that Barrador had no doubt for footage seemed to jump weeks and days forward. Why the vision of the eldest son of Stannes was not edited out concerned Barrador more than the footage of the voyage.

He seemed to determine the recording was of a some exploratory mission for the course projection shown would have taken the Blade far outside Themien Space.

The recording seemed to display the typical activity of an exploratory mission and the stretches of tediousness when he saw that the area outside the Blade recorded visual changes.

Space was turning from it's usual black bottomlessness to purple to... light red..

This occurance was a few months into their voyage and as he thought back to the speeds the old Blade design could safely manage, he knew it was occurance several hundred light years away.


What he also saw was that the Blade pushed it's course even farther and Barrador became interested despite his caution.

Here was an actual account of a voyage far beyond where any Themien had travelled. At least far beyond where any Themien had publicly travelled.

He also saw that the colors outsider were getting brighter than he had ever seen.

He also began to see changes in the crew's appearance and as the footage jumped forward yet more, he saw those changes were not for the better.

He shifted silently as the recording changed from the ship to a planet's landing. A planet who had never been visited by Themiens.


Barrador almost forgot about Stannes standing behind him as he leaned forward at the sight of the planet. Ruins of a fairly advanced civilization were explored and he silently swore at the person who was holding the recorder wishing they had taken more time in looking at certain things that were only peripherially shown.

From what the expedition could tell was that the civilization had died out from some sort of war. Barrador saw the tell-tale signs as scorched buildings, streets and equipment littered the ground.

There was also massive signs of weather damage indicating that whatever fight took place did so many years before.

The expedition recorded several books from the ruins showing that the natives of the planet were reptilian in nature, which accounted for the strange designs of the building and equipment.

He had never met such a species though he knew rumors of such species their outside trading partners had come across. Other races did not concern Themos but the scope of the ruins seen through the footage impressed upon Barrador that the natives had once had a thriving culture large enough to impress even a Themien.

Even so, he put their level of technology a century or two behind Themos in terms of what he saw on the planet. There was no sign that the expedition had found anything in orbit or that the natives were space-faring.

The footage advanced more and he found that there were more members of the expedition planetside investigating to their heart's delight.

Until someone discovered something.

The recorder bounced up and down as the person carrying it ran to where someone was pointing. That someone was Cassius, the apparent leader of the expedition.

As the footage seemed to jump from its recording of the ground to a recording of the air, it soon focussed on something lying far below in the valley.


And when that focus sharpened Barrador drew back in an unnatural fear.


Even upside down, fire-scorched and with it's eight armoured limbs curled inward indicating death, the sheer size of the creature gripped the Barrador man's attention and held it immobile.


It was at this point the footage paused and Barrador almost yelled out at the interruption.


"If I show you the rest of the recording, I want you to know that you will be my man from now on," Lord Stannes started. Before the other could object to where his loyalties lie, the old leader of the Royal House clarified, "I need you not to fail in convincing House Hark of a terrible danger that I feel is coming."


Though Barrador hated to voice his paranoia, he had to ask, "How do I know this is even real?"


It certainly had looked real enough but decption was nothing new to Barrador. Even deception as clever and real-looking as what he was viewing.


"What proof do I have?"


Stannes nodded at the question as if Barrador's remarks were not only expected but approved.


"I give you the only proof I can give." he replied and Barrador thought he heard a temor of sad resignation in his voice.


A movement behind the Lord Stannes pulled Barrador out of the shock experienced from the footage and back into the present. Meeting Barges were supposed to be inviolate.


"What is going on!" he growled out, ready for treachery. There was supposed to be no one but the two of them on the entire meeting barge.


"Forgive my breach of tradition but if you were to come closer, I am sure you will agree with my reason." Lord Stannes said, watching the startled reaction of the other.


There were two people. One pushing an occupied wheel-chair towards them.


"Lord Barrador," Stannes started, "I introduce my son, Cassius."


The man in the wheel-chair became visible as the dim lights brightened and Barrador drew back in horror crying out loud involuntarily.

*


The "Black Rim"



Barrador stared at the sight before him trying to link what he was seeing with the vital young man from the viewer recording and found himself coming up short.

He had no idea a person could be disfigured so but even appearances aside, the mannerisms of unprecipitated shaking, the loss of coordination and the one word braying of this creature that was once the heir to the Stannes Royal House was unsettling.

"THEMOS!" the creature barked out and the caretaker standing behind dutifully wiped the spittle from the son's lips.

His paranoid sense still held to the thought of this being simply an elaborate ruse but the look of untarnished affection in the old man's eyes stamped even the doubt that the creature was, in fact, his son away.

Another House Lord would not have courted a loss of privilege and status a revelation of an unfit heir would bring and simply killed the creature.

Stannes, however, was different and not for the first time, Barrador wondered why he had allied with House Reaver.

"My son was one of the few survivors of this expedition you are watching." Stannes admitted.

"What happened?" Barrador blurted out bluntly.

"Let me show you.." Lord Stannes remarked and the lights dimmed again. Barrador's attention was arrested away from the Stannes heir as his caretaker backed him away.

"He becomes quite agitated when he sees images of the expedition," Lord Stannes said by way of explanation and the footage started once more.




The planet of the ruined civilization was falling behind as the early Blade ship moved off towards the source of the 'brightening galaxy'.

The recorder skipped to various celestial sights unseen by any Themien outside the expedition and Barrador recalled the effects the changing space seemed to have on the crew earlier in the viewing as he saw even greater effects here where space seemed to shine brightest.

He could not put his finger on it but it seemed almost like sleep deprivation was taking it's toll on the expedition.

When he commented on it, Lord Stannes shrugged. "Various crew logs recovered indicate that the crew was having trouble sleeping. Accounts of nightmares and such. It was more pronounced the brighter the space outside seemed to become, even with a set 'night' period on the ship. View ports were darkened but something... seemed to agitate their REM sleep."

Barrador noted that the crew became worried as scanning and transmissions were becoming unreliable the farther into the brightening space they travelled. Almost as if they were sensing ghost images of matter where there were none.

The expedition seemed to be avoiding planets in the bright space focussed more on the reaching the source of the color-changing starscape.

Even so, the strange interference that seemed to permeate the area hindered their sending or receiving signals to the star systems they passed.

The light from nearby stars was barely visible in the surrounding space and soon vanished as the ship finally entered the quadrant of space containing, presumably, the Source.

There was a rippling excitement throughout the crew even though Barrador noted a few missing faces.

Did some of the crew get sick?

Looking at the time scale of the recorder, the trip had taken two years. Obviously, Stannes people had edited much of the content out leaving only the highlights but Barrador was thankful the discovery of the Source was left intact.

His own curiosity to the changing colors of space was to be sated soon, or so he hoped.

The audio was apparently edited out but Lord Stannes interjected comments here and there explaining the various stages of the expedition. And when the video footage singled out a bright point of the sector, Barrador knew they had found it.

It was almost like pointing your ship towards a star and trying to take video footage.

The computer superimposed a darker image behind what the recorder was detailing and Barrador saw that rather than a simple ball of exploding gasses, the Source was more like a self perpetuating explosion fueled by something that would not let go.

Almost like...


"Whatever exploded there," Lord Stannes began, "was large and powerful enough to rip a hole in our universe. Perhaps the overlapping of opposite materials or opposite building blocks from one universe to another is causing the effect?"

He left the question hanging there and then finally shrugged, "At this point, the ship's sensors are non-functioning and there is no actual measuring data on the phenomena. All this conjector, explanations and counter explanations were found in the logs of the people in the expedition. There was no real hard data."

"So you don't know the cause?" Barrador asked, slightly disappointed but not really surprised given what he had seen.

"The cause, at this point, is irrelevant. What is relevant is that, based on the projections of each discharged wave of the material from the other side of this rip in space that is pouring into ours, and based on the rate of the expansion measured by the changes in spacial color-spectrums, Themos will be seeing the color of space surrounding our world change from black to purple in three months. In six, it will be a redish color and each week, the spectrum will change for the brighter until, we too, are consumed by this phenomena."


Barrador shifted uncomfortably but still kept his eye on certain distinct points. "Other than the obvious psychological effects the changing colors of space seemed to have on the crew of the expedition or in disturbing their REM sleep, I don't see anything dire that would befall Themos requiring a full response from a Blade Fleet or Royal House. Perhaps our scientists could devise an atmospheric manipulation to dampen the effects so that a projected loss of.. what? Night? Does not hinder our lives in any large degree..." Barrador's voice trailed off as he glanced at the figure of Stannes' son at the far end being tended too by his caretaker. "Unless you are going to tell me that prolonged exposure will have other effects on Themiens.." he finished.

Lord Stannes sighed. "It will but not in the way you think."

"Why didn't your expedition plug the rip in space? Why not devise a reversal of the effect rather than simply recording it and burying it under Stannes secrecy?!" Barrador asked pointedly.

"Because, for one thing: the ship did not have the resources for that kind of endeavor! For another, Vikar Varriathorn was too busy fighting off a bid for the throne from Craes, Benly and Mannator!

It was the Reaver treachery to The Three in siding with Varriathorn that helped keep the Vikar in place crushing the Blade Fleets of the other three Houses and kept his attention to solidifying his hold on the throne.

No one, especially the Vikar, was willing to listen to a neutral house shouting about enemies from beyond our sphere of care, if not our sphere of influence!"



Barrador remembered that time and noted that Reaver and Varriathorn fell out of trust with each other soon after that conflict.

House Stannes and House Hark had remained neutral in the affair content to see where the combatant's fortunes would fall.

The Vikar was displeased with their decision but was not willing to test their strength to make the matter a point of House Honor.

In any event, Stannes and Hark had sent a larger tribute than usual in the form of Blade Ships to the Vikar which mollified him and angered the other Houses for it was almost unheard of for such a display of subservience to issue forth from a Royal House.

Now House Craes, House Reaver and House Stannes were locked in a Triumvirate that would soon make a bid for the throne. Especially with the Vikar sick and at death's door, if rumors were to be believed.

For all Barrador knew, the rumor was a ploy to have his enemies show their hand and when revealed, strike. It was a strategy Lord Hark preferred and had made use of.


He turned his attention back to the viewing.

The footage showed the early Blade ship moving around the phenomena trying to get recordings of each angle.

"They called it the Engine of Creation." Lord Stannes whispered as he noted Barrador's eyes flicker back and forth over what the old starship was seeing.

But the Barrador man's gaze was no longer on this 'engine', this 'rip' in space but at the tiny shadow that seemed to emerge from the underside of the phenomena.

The footage displayed the crew also noting the one dark spot before them and the position of the ship was changed to intercept.

There was some excitement from several people as Barrador saw that their interception speed seemed to increase all at once for no apparent reason. At least it looked like no one had adjusted the controls for such an approach.

The dark spot suddenly shot at them, it's size growing exponentially quickly the closer it appeared and suddenly Barrador jumped from his chair. The dark spot was actually a creature reminiscient of the one found on the ruined planet earlier in the expedition. However, this one was much larger.. seemingly existing in space...and very much alive.

The creature came at the ship with such speed and force that it used it's hard carapice shell as a battering ram striking the Blade ship causing it to careen off it's course, the crew shouting and scrambling to their battlestations.

"I saw no method of prepulsion on the creature." Barrador remarked when his mind settled from his shock. "No accounting for it's momentum in vacuum."

"Our scientists found nothing either. However, in the beginning, some had postulated that the unaccounted for increase in intercept speed the Blade exhibited helped project the perception that the creature moved itself. That perhaps the creature may have been ejected into space by some unknown third party to die....and it simply hadn't at the time the Blade found it."

"I might be inclined to agree if not for what the crew found on the planet before.." Barrador remarked. "Still, your scientists don't think that way anymore? So something else is recorded to dispel that theory?"

"Keep watching.."

The ship slipped away from the Engine of Creation using the best speed a Blade of the time could muster and it seemed that the creature was content not to pursue.

Assuming it had the ability to do so!

A few days from their retreat from the Source, the crew began to joke about the encounter and began feel the need to search a few star systems in range. The Blade's mechanics and computer systems had been knocked about and the engineers felt it prudent to pull into orbit around a world to take a look at the damage caused by the creature that had struck the ship.

The Blade entered one such system and their telescoping sensors offered visual confirmation that the nearby worlds in orbit of the star held some sort of technological civilization.

However, as soon as the ship was entering orbit it was struck by something unseen. The damage counters showed it equivalent to modern Blade weaponry and Barrador wondered if it was some sort of planetary defense system either left over or...

It was then, as the ship engaged in evasive, that he saw the crew frantically working to turn the ship around and the camera shifted angles using multiple telescopic shots showing creatures like the one that accosted them at the Source not only crawling over the surface but launching themselves from the ground into space as well.

The flashes of atmospheric friction at their exit from the world's gravitational pull showed Barrador the numbers the crew faced were not only many but that the sizes of the creatures varied. While not as large as the one at the Source, some were the size of the dead creature found on the earlier planet but many were much, much smaller.

"About the size of snub fighters.. some smaller." he squinted trying to get a better gauge of the different sizes.

The defense mechanisms of the Blade ship indicated multiple strikes but there were no shots or projectiles or.. anything that seemed to eminate from the creatures.

Barrador narrowed his eyes but kept his comments to himself.

The account moved forward showing that the crew escaped the near trap of the star system but the footage showed several attempts to make planetary orbit in different nearby star systems. Each was met with almost unrelentless aggression from these creatures that seemed to inhabit these worlds.

These could not be the indigenous species of all these worlds..

The ship was not chased beyond the realm of the solar systems and Barrador was going to comment on that when he saw that the last attack occurred as the Blade crossed the orbit of the outermost planet thus entering the system.


"They were waiting.." he stated the obvious but was surprised. There was evidence of certain animals able to coordinate 'pack attacks' and display territoriality but such animals could not coordinate or communicate through spacial distances?


"Evolved spacial communications?" Even the idea seemed absurd.

The Lord Stannes smiled grimly, "Or a side effect of the spacial disturbance? Perhaps the nature of space is being changed beyond our perception and comprehension of simply color?"

Barrador frowned. "That's a stretch, Lord."

He saw that the constant attacks preventing the crew from any planet or system coupled with the strange psychological effects they were dealing with seemed to put the crew on constant edge. There was bickering and divisions that were creeping into their working relationship until a decision by Stannes' son to make a jump farther than they had attempted before.

Reminding them of the planet they visited before with no creatures lingering seemed to help support his bid for the maneuver though the level of resistance to his orders surprised even Barrador.

Blade crews were supposed to be staunchly loyal. In the treacherous environment of Themos, it was a firm necessity.

The jump took them from the bright hues of space to something a bit darker and even red, the clear relief the sheer color change brought to the crew was evident.

Was it only psychological?

The Blade ship entered orbit around a world that seemed devoid of a technological presence which suited them just fine.

The footage showed the crew in much better spirits enjoying a much needed shoreleave and Barrador felt strange seeing the private joys of those whose loyalty lay in a House of Themos he might consider an enemy.

Are we not all Themiens?

The skipping of the viewer showed Barrador that the crew spent quite a long time on the world and he could not really blame them.

However, it was evident that the crew had made some sort of discovery though the recorder did not focus on it. The interaction between crew members indicated something...

The recorder finally made it's way to the science labs and to Barrador's shock, he saw rows upon rows of the creatures laying upside down, the largest no bigger than an adult hand. Many were about as large as a Themien commemorative coin but it was evident the crew had found them on the world and had began serious studies into their anatomy and physiology. The creatures were disected.

There were several live ones as well kept in containers and cages obviously no threat to the crew.

Did they grow to the size of the creature around the Source?

He noted that the crew ejected several of the creatures into space to test their resistance to vacuum and while some survived, many did not.

But the question was, how would they fair in brigher space?

And in finding out the crew was divided. The Captain wanted to reach the threshold of pink space for experimentation while the rest wanted to simply go home.

A compromise was made as the calculations were being made to jump to the threshold, another set as a failsafe was being made for Themos.

The Blade ship jumped and as soon as the spectrum barrier was crossed strange things began taking place. The divisions became much more public and pronounced, as if the final shreds of restraint towards authority were ripped apart. The crew mutinied and the resulting deaths were both quick and brutal.

It seemed all restraint broke down and it was not until someone under the grip of madness unleashed an explosive device in killing a number of creatures in captivity that the overt madness seemed to leave.

"They are telepathic... telekinetic." Barrador concluded and Lord Stannes was impressed.

"Their abilities seem to grow with the brightening color of space.." Stannes added.

The crew killed the rest of the creatures aboard but they had remained in the threshold too long for the sensors, working better in the less bright space, picked up a large creature bound for them.

Not pausing to wonder at the incredible speeds the creature could reach, the ship fired all it's ordinance to slow it down as the small crew tried to do the job of running a ship requiring a compliment of alot more.

The final set of numbers were finally found and the failsafe program correctly entered. But not before the weaponry of the Blade struck the creature.

Its resulting destruction was greater than anything the Blade crew anticipated for the larger creature carried a small Quorom with it. As it's body was ripped apart, the smaller creatures being carried along the great speeds were pummeled against the great celestial forces causing their host to remain in motion. The resulting release of psyonic energies of the multitudes of deaths washed over the Blade before it made the jump.

The recorder went dark.




"The ship was discovered two years ago near E'Scarrion. House Stannes maintains a series of satellites near the launch area of the vessel. I never gave up hope for the return of my son."

The old man looked over at the simpleton seated in the far back, distracted by the caretaker. "THEMOS!" he barked out happily.

"For two years we poured over this account searching for any sign of the creatures here on Themos."

"Did you find any?" Barrador asked, suddenly frightened at the thought.

Stannes thankfully shook his head. "No. But House Reaver does not give up its secrets so willingly. I allied myself with him to better our access but children's drawings of vaguely similiar shapes is not enough to evoke war."

"But space is changing out here. A threshold is being reached.." Barrador commented and Lord Stannes smiled.

"I had hoped you would see the danger. Now you know what I want to convey to Lord Hark and why I've made a copy of this account for his own people to go over."

"You are afraid the creatures are coming here?" Barrador concluded.

"We killed one of their own.." Stannes began but Barrador suddenly stood.

"You think they are intelligent? Bent on revenge?!" he cried out incredulously.

"For all I know, they are the plague!" Lord Stannes ground out.

"Their last jump was farther than any jump a Blade as made as far as I know. Nothing could be tracked at those distances!"

Lord Stannes gave a sad smile. "You do not know how much I want to believe that. But space is changing... It will change here. Sooner or later, the environment will be suitable enough for these creatures to traverse interstellar space. Even if they do not come until another one hundred years, they will eventually come. Do we decide to deal with it then or do we deal with it now?"

"You make a good point, Lord. The way I see it is we need to strike at the Source. At this Engine of Creation. Do that and we undo these creatures."

As always, the tactical mind of Barrador impressed the man of Themian Royalty. "We must act quickly." the Lord stated firmly.

Barrador's eyes narrowed suddenly suspicious of the haste. Given the Vikar's failing health, would Stannes want Harks' Blades sent on some chase to this Engine unable to prevent the Triumvirite from taking advantage of the weakened throne?

"Granted we will be seeing slivers of pink in half a year or more but the actual wavefront of the threshold will not overtake Themos for another.. What? Forty Years? We have time, I think.." Barrador remarked in a light manner though feeling tense.

Lord Stannes' eyes were grave. "We may have less time than you think, Sir."

"Explain." Barrador commanded sharply, not realizing that he just commanded a House Lord of Themos.

The presumptuousness was lost to Stannes also which added the weight of truth behind his next words: "According to our House scientists, the wavefront has reached E'Scarrion. And we lost contact with our trading partners on E'Scarrion two weeks ago. To date, we have received no confirmation from any House that any contact, no matter how slight, with E'Scarrion has taken place!"

Barrador's face suddenly went ashen.

"What is it!?" Lord Stannes demanded of the other man.

"My daughter, Lord. She is leading a caravan..."

"Not too.." Lord Stannes suddenly asked, worried. Not caring that Barrador just revealed a secretive transaction taking place between a large outside power and House Hark.

"Yes, my Lord. She has gone to E'Scarrion!"

Lord Stannes began to pace. "We must speak to your Lord NOW!" he demanded and Barrador nodded dumbly.

"Themos protect her.." he whispered.

*

Purpose.


Such a small word and yet.... yet it carries the weight of the rest of one's life ...

From what will be done in the next hour to what will be done at the end of days...


Purpose, at first, for the Blood was rudimentary; satisfying the needs of survival. But as survival become more and more assured stretching from the immediate course of months to years and eventually beyond, more aspects to purpose were added.

Additional goals that enhanced the original intent because for any self respecting, self-aware life mere survival was never enough.

And so therefore, purpose fed another growing requirement to living...



...the requirement of accomplishment.



Closely associating accomplishment with the fundamental realization that completing desired goals increased the quality of life, the need for haste was born.


For the sooner such purposes were realized, the sooner the quality of the day to day survival of the One and its growing brood could be...would be improved.


The forming of the first Quoroms were slow but uninterrupted for the Blood recognized no natural predators and were prey to no one.


So complete was their existence that the memories of former life forms, inhabitants or the nature of civilizations that might have one existed before the nova, before the space began to change colors, before the Blood...

...were forgotton as if they had never been.


And so there, close to the Source, the growing Quoroms of the Blood might have remained, content in their ignorance if not for the intrusion of a particular construct of metal and fire. A Themien Blade ship.


They perceived it's existence within the area that had been their exclusive home for countless ages. There had been no trespassing into their territory for so long that the presence of the artificial shell drew confusion from the Blood and they did not immediately know how to react.

And so, the ancient of ancients, the One moved from it's resting place to investigate and found the intruder moving in a straight line towards that which gave the Blood life, the Source.

So direct was the intruder's approach that the One felt a ripple of alarm which, in turn, spread to the watching Quoroms.

The intruder either did not seem to be aware of the Blood presence or it ignored them (which further agitated the sensibilities of the Quoroms).


Every one of the Blood knew their place according to the purpose each provided, to the duty each worked towards and so naturally, logically and with unquestioned obligation each element of the Blood submitted to that which was higher and so on in orderly and organized fashion. And there was none higher, in the hierarchy of the Blood, greater than the One. The Progenitor.


This intruder, however, did not seem to fit within any part of the Blood's structure, attached itself to no Quorom and seemed to serve no purpose that they could perceive.


Therefore, it's relentless drive to that which gave the Blood life could only be interpreted on way. As a threat.


The sensory evidence of this threat solidified into purpose and given the finite time left to avert this threat, the need for haste became even more imperative.


And so, as the Progenitor, the One acted.



It's incredible need to meet the intruder at the source of their life propelled it faster than it had ever traveled before and as it slipped under the Source to meet the intruder that same need to stop the threat allowed it to "grab" and "pull" the vessel towards it's hard carapace.

It rammed the intruder in an attempt to dissuade the artificial shell from it's interest in their source of life and the act accomplished it's purpose for not only did the intruder begin to back off but it did so quite rapidly.


The retreat of the intruder left the One purposeless as the threat to the Source was diminishing. In the back of it's mind it contemplated the experience and wondered if it was simply an errant form of sub-life or not-life.



The excitement began to die down and the One once more entered rest contently settling near the glowing emanations of the Source.



And there it slept...


...until the frantic calls of the Quoroms called it to consciousness. The intruder had changed course and moved toward a territory of a singular Quorom. This was an intrusion that a Quorom of the Blood would not tolerate from another (not that Blood would not already know their place and act accordingly) and yet...


...yet this intruder, showing it's lack of insight and lack of sensibilities, traveled on a course straight for one of the Quorom's nesting grounds.


The agitated swarm met the intruder and they too drove it off.


The Quoroms were, however, driven to a frenzy for the intruder simply readjusted it's course making for the territories of other Blood Quoroms. Time and again the Blood responded by rebuffing the intruder until one Quorom decided to intercept the intruder before it became a danger to the nesting by not allowing it into planetary orbit.


The intruder, after that, disappeared from their local awareness though the knowledge that it was still out there in the great sea of space filled the Blood with anxiety.


What was the purpose of the intruder? Had it been accomplished? If so, to what end?


They retained little memory of such shells traveling the seas of space. Most not-life or sub-life were found on the balls of dirt that served as nestings for the Blood but the existence of the intruder was enough to impress upon the Quoroms and the One that there were limits to their near ageless memory. That there were other things that existed beyond their perception and beyond their collected experience.





A Quorom, led by an Olden known to the Blood as Oro, was chosen by the Blood to move beyond the edge of perception, backtracking the original route taken by the intruder. There were questions that demanded answers!


Did the threat still live or not?


Oro collected Blood of all types and as they attached themselves to the gargantuan creature, the overpowering, overreaching need of Oro to have these questions answered, to have this new and important purpose accomplished moved out latching onto the farthest point it's mind could reach and off the Quorom went.


The presence of Oro and those with him shrank until they were but a faint buzz in the Blood's collective minds.

It was ironic how, when a purpose was not your own, how easily it could be forgotten. Or, at the very least, put out of mind.

Which is what happened with the Blood as life returned to normal, the excitement of the moment reduced to memory.


It was a lesson and a mistake the Blood would never permit ever again for one day, in their content lives once more, the pain of Oro was felt faintly in their link.

A brief bright spark that sent the Quoroms into a frenzy of activity and alarmed the One far more deeply than the simple intrusion near the source.


Something had harmed one of the Blood!


This was not need or purpose as necessity put the situation into a different category: one of survival. Purpose, Need, Survival all merged together into one all powerful, all intent Will that drove the One and Twelve Quoroms to Oro.

The flicker of life was still evident though one of the Olden had been hurt.

Their environment grew darker the farther from the Source they traveled but it was the all omnipotent Will of the One that drove the Quoroms to the edge and as they reached the threshold of their awareness that they came upon damaged carapace, dead creatures and the hideously injured Oro.

Through the link, strengthened by the presence of the One, they learned of the meeting with the intruder and it's sudden attack upon Oro and his Quorom.

The Olden creature had been responding to a small cry of fear. A small cry from one of the Blood and the tiny bits of flesh, bone and carapace floating on the other side of the threshold of perception were the proof that the cries were not simply fading figments of a mind so far from the Source playing tricks.


A smaller Blood soldier crossed the threshold more in shock than to any purpose trying to reach these small pieces only to find it's body go limp.


Not quite dead but beyond perception.


And the Olden immediately came to the conclusion that the youngling had crossed the boundaries of Life from the Source and life would not return to it until the expanding boundaries moved past its floating body.

Some of the Colony had made it this far out and awaited the time when consciousness arrived with the Source of Life.

The intruder had made the Blood prey outside the threshold and the fact that this intruder would do such a callous act created a series of emotional responses within the collective Blood that it was frozen into inactivity at first.



Fear. The Blood felt fear.

Anger. The Blood felt anger.


And when two emotions such as these merged into one, the resulting purpose became Revenge.


And it was a purpose that frustrated the Quoroms for only the oldest and strongest of them could move beyond the threshold and even so, their abilities were severely limited.


The One, conversely, did not share this immediate need for revenge for it's attention was directed elsewhere. It had never traveled this far away from the Source and so suddenly it found its perception grasping concepts and truths that were hidden before, blinded as he was near the Source.


There were the faint flickers of minds of the Blood that had yet to join the Quoroms. Even out here!


And there was something else too.


These minds of the blood were surrounded by scores of not-life. Sub-life that could endanger their lives as surely as the intruder had done with Oro.

It was this awareness that was flooded througout the link tempering the anger and fear into something far more practical and far more dangerous.



A need for preemptive action.


A need to make this area of space safe for all Blood.


They had passed myriads of stars in their single-minded chasing after Oro and in each blinking light, the intruder or an intruder could be hiding.



The singular purpose of enacting revenge against the intruder, as Oro seethed for, would still serve their intent but it would be an amended purpose attached to the overriding need of the Blood to survive.


At first, survival equated the absence of enemies.


But as they went from star system to star system, always keeping a sensory eyestalk out for the intruder, they found that survival took on many forms.


They learned there were different ways to achieve the same purpose.. the same goal.

And as each Quorom experienced these changes with each situation, their intellect sharpened and individual personalities emerged from the shells of Olden and within the Quorom alike.


For it was not enough to simply survive.

It was not enough to simply live.


And in the diversity the Blood suddenly found in their galaxy, in their universe, it finally asked the age old, self-serving question: What was survival without comfort?


With fear, anger, revenge and need, the Blood also found, in achieving these ends, selfishness and greed.

Everything else was sub-life or not-life and, therefore, unequal.

For there was no life but the Blood.


And so, what was survival without comfort.... now?

House Hark


The enigmatic lord of House Hark stared at his servant incredulously. Not just a servant and not just a Minor House in his realm but a house elevated for House Barrador controlled a Blade.

"You want to what?" he asked again quietly and while his voice was tempered, his very stillness screamed wildly at his man.

"My Blade is leaving for E'scarrion, Lord!" Barrador nearly shouted back. Such was his agitation as the calculations ran through his mind. His daughter, Carrea would travel only the speed of the slowest transport so if he pushed his ships hard enough, he might.. .might be able to catch her on the outskirts of the world.

"You meet with Stannes and now you all but command me that your ships are leaving my fold. Tell me, Garrighe, is your loyalty so easily bought?"

The slight was unfair but then, Barrador could not fault his Lordship for he had yet to show the data crystal Stannes had given him.

Barrador would have none of this but he also knew that if he simply ignored the openings Hark was giving him, the Lord would have no choice but to impound his ships, imprison the Barrador family and seize his family holdings.

"My son is hostage until I return, my Lord." Barrador said equally quietly. "I go to rescue my only daughter from certain death."

Hark's eyes widened in surprise before his mind took hold once more.

"Here," Barrador handed the data crystal to the House Lord. "This will explain everything. I have seen Cassius Stannes and the simpleton monster he has become. Forgive me if I do not desire such a fate for my daughter. I will return in six days with her alive or not at all."

Hark eyes narrowed.

"And if you do not return?"

Barrador stopped and turned to look at his enigmatic Lord, "Then, Lord, reinforce your defenses because Themos is about to be struck by a force it has never felt in all the House Wars. The very survival of Themos itself will hang in the balance."

"Melodramatic," Hark muttered turning the data crystal over in his hand.

"And yet true." Barrador remarked and he left.


As Lord Hark saw his man Barrador exit his hawk-like gaze rested in the small device in his hands. Of what good is your son, Barrador? If my spies are correct he is besotted with the Reaver wench!

Perhaps a connection should Old Man Reaver have an accident...


He did not quite believe Barrador but he also knew that Barrador was a hard man to fool. Something has shaken him.

His mind rested thoughtfully on the crystal.




House Craes


The Lord Craes still limped as he walked, a reminder of the failed coup against Varriathorn years ago. A reminder that House Reaver's treachery to The Three had yet to be repaid burned in his skin.

Benly and Mannator were too busy attempting to salvage their weak harvests knowing another bad year added the mounting economic woes since the coup.
It took nearly everything their respective houses owned to maintain their current Blade fleet.

It was either that or lose status and power in the Themos court.

Still, the opportunities opened with a joining of Craes, Reaver and Stannes (the obnoxious noble fool!) allowed for a temporary ignoring of his physical pain if not the news he just heard.

"Barrador has what?"

"Rumor of a meeting with Stannes and then his fleet was seen leaving Lord Hark's territory!"

Did that fool Stannes actually accomplish something by prying Hark's pet Minor House Blade away from the quiet Lord?

He would have to evaluate Stannes in a new light for this move spoke of deeper things.


"My Lord?" an attendant had walked up.

"Lord Reaver would like a conference at your earliest convenience." Which typically translated into NOW!

Craes thought he knew what the old man would say and sure enough, his first words were, when the connection was established, "Do you know what those two Stannes bitches told me? That their bumbling oaf of a father actually did something right for a change!!"

The old Reaver was positively overflowing with glee.

Craes stifled an urge to vomit and put forth his best smile. "Stannes is wise as he is full of surprises. He knows to weaken Varriathorn's possible allies makes him all the more open for seizure when the time is right. We all know that a Varriathorn who can capture allies when his need is most dire does much to crush a coup."

If Reaver caught the very blunt reference, he did not show it.

The old man was too much of a cool customer in the game to allow amateurish displays fluster him.

But Craes couldn't help it. And for once, Reaver be damned, he didn't care!



House Varriathorn


The Vikar laid in his bed coughing spasmatically knowing the end was near. Even now, attendants whispered the reports of his spies as he tried to ready his family and his House for the imminent attack from another House or Houses.

Barrador was headed for E'scarrion? What game was Hark playing at?

It was conceivable that House Hark may be using off-world aid to build a bid for the throne but he knew that if a House could not take and hold the throne of their own volition, they would not be accepted by Themien society. Even House attendants and loyalists would draw the line at that.

A House Lord that could not take of their own did not deserve to be Vikar!

For two centuries House Varriathorn had retained the title Vikar. An almost unheard of accomplishment for a single house and now all was to be undone.

For like all eventualities with powerful and intelligent leaders, this one was overdue.

Vikar Varriathorn's heir was a fool!

His pampered life led him in search of those qualities that would help lead Varriathorn through another century but, instead, of women's skirts. And not even highborn women at that!

Varriathorn bastards were the bane of the Vikar and paying off minor houses was a constant drain on the House Treasury.

Another spasm of coughing overtook him and he cursed his frail body knowing that something would have to be done and soon.

And this is what broke his heart for his heir was a boy that he loved fully and the boy loved him back.

Never had a father and son been closer and while the son acknowledged his weaknesses and indescretions, he did not seem to be able to summon the discipline required.

He is soft.

Like his mother.

The memory brought another wave of heavy breathing and coughing.

Tears and sorrow.

*


The world formerly known as E'Scarrion



Oro's massive eight legs brushed against those dead of the Blood an the machines of the not-life that called this ball of rock and lava home.

Like most not-life he had come across in this galaxy, their infestation was entrenched and as the souls of those Blood flashed through his psionic awareness before being set adrift on the eddies of the Great Life Force, his anger once more flashed painfully loud.

How was the trade of Blood for not-life balanced when laid on the measuring scales of life?

A spark in his mind drew attention to the memory festering in the deep recesses of his mind. The image of the metal artificial shell that almost destroyed his entire Quorom hung there like an idol of perverted worship. And perhaps it was for the Blood held an almost all-consuming goal of finding that ship and bringing it's pincer down crushing the not-life within.

Surrounding his path were the wimpering, defeated throngs of not-life awaiting the final decision from the Progenitor. Why the One held off the final extermination of these irritating and annoying bugs was not for Oro to question but even so, the interrogatory mark of his mind was open for all to view.

The shaking tendrils of the smaller Blood, Grippers, whose purpose was the thankless job of looking after these masses of not-life, parted in deference to the Olden has he passed.

The petrified carapace Oro called a heart softened slightly at their meme-pings of acknowledgement and utmost loyalty as members of his Quorom. It was the Progenitor who had allowed Oro to balance the scales by rendering all resistance the Blood dead. A privilege that Oro used to the fullest trying vainly to satisfy his thirst for revenge by drinking in the thin liquid that passed for the souls of these not-life.

The memory of his Quorom flashed again in his mind a burst of bright anger and the mental roar that escaped his control momentarily shot forth silencing the not-life around him permanently.

The release of his incredible psionics caused their fragile bones to turn to jelly while at the same time blasting the very skin from their bodies as quickly and as forcefully as a sandblaster powered by a star destroyer's engines.

The Grippers held motionless suddenly finding themselves without purpose and Oro felt a momentary regret in their situation. Still, the galaxy was full of not-life so only their immediate purpose was threatened.


He arrived in a clearing outside a building of the not-life, how they could live in such small caves were beyond the thoughts of Oro. For in the center of the Olden grouped around the Progenitor was a not-life.

The Blood were focussed on something as the not-life stood there in a mental daze and so he reached out mentally to link with the Progenitor.

Immediately, different versions of the events that led them to this point converged in Oro's mind widening it's unseen boundaries farther than his own personal boundaries laid. Oro was, after all, reserved for Blood.


WELCOME OROBAN the Progenitor's voice rang in his head like drink of cool water upon a hot and weary soul.

PEACE TO BLOOD, was Oro's automatic greeting.

THE BLOOD IS ONE came the mutual response from the link.


Oro sent a tremor of confusion at this collective's interest in the not-life and was invited to share a deeper link eminating from the One. The invitation was immediately accepted without rancor and Oro's vision became clouded as frightening images suddenly conjured up within his mind.

After a moment of confusion, Oro realized that the Progenitor was inside the mind of the not-life.


He was aware of the thoughts that such things were possible and only through the One for he alone among the Blood (and therefore all life) was the strongest.


But why would One want too scattered cynical thoughts of perversion that leaked into the link.

Rather than being offended, the One seemed amused at Oro's inability to hide his thoughts.

Perhaps it was his outspokenness that attracted the Progenitor's attention and preference.

The gentle prodding of a further invitation to sink further into the link caused Oro to hesitate but the laced along the invitation was also a challenge that the Quorom leader and Olden could not ignore.

Plunging ahead he found his vision cramped and confined realizing that the link had masked their presence to a near inestimable point and so he followed suit.

The smaller his presence became, the greater his vision cleared and the farther his mind's eye could see.

And it was here, on this plane that a representation of the not-life faced the Overlords of the Blood.

Oro almost slipped out of the link in shock for such an ability was only found in the Blood. Even though he knew the Progenitor was serving as the bridge and catalyst in provoking mind of this not-life into an appropriate mental plane, it still was still thought an impossible ability for not-life.

PERHAPS THEY ARE LIFE..

The words of the One shocked the link ranging from outrage at the thought to curiosity to outright denial.

FEEL HIS GLIMMERING.

There was fear. But there was also anger. An anger buried. An anger that the Blood had interrupted and so was cast aside.

SEARCH THE SOURCE, the One commanded and Oro drank in the primitive emotions of these infestations (if not not-life).

Even with his powerful mind, the exercise was trying for his mind found the directions of thought (if it could be called that) winding around another world of rock and lava.

Oro immediately was bored and his mind drifted back to the artifical shell that had attacked his Quorom.

And as the craft floated in Oro's mental harness, subtle changes suddenly appeared to the craft and Oro was, at once, confused.

His attention returned to the link and he found the representation of the infestation staring at the object of Oro's hatred.


"A Blade.." the infestation squeeked and Oro's excitement nearly shattered the link and killed the E'scarrion right then and there.

YOU KNOW OF THIS.. The Progenitor prodded and Oro mentally paced impatiently wanting to simply dive into the creature's wretchedly small mind and rip the answers from it's bone and sinew.

"Themos.." the E'scarrion apparition muttered and Oro could contain himself no longer.

Unfortunately, the creature died before Oro could cross the mental threshold and as the link dissolved with the creature's spark of self-awareness vanishing, Oro felt chagrin.

The Progenitor simply stood at the center of the Blood and as the Olden waited for his word, the One simply reflected on their discoveries.

His next words were the music that washed over the souls of the Blood.


BRING ANOTHER...



Oro felt the beginnings of something else.


Another purpose.

*



Carrea Barrador



E'Scarrion shined like a small moon as the merchant fleet from House Hark and Themos approached. It has crossed in-system a few days before but an engine failure on one of the transport vessels required the fleet to stop for repairs as Themien pride would not hear of having a crippled ship enter orbit around E'Scarrion.

"There seems to be quite alot of shipping in and around E'Scarrion." the Captain murmured as he translated the sensor readings for the Barrador woman's benefit. The equipment was nowhere equal to that of the Blade Fleets but it served and Carrea appreciated the gesture of the Captain even if it was unnecessary. Her father made sure she and her brother knew everything 'Navy' in preparation for their ultimate role in her father's Blade Fleet.

Lord Hark had discovered that E'Scarrion's government was preparing for a preemptive strike on Themos. Knowing the death of the Vikar was close at hand and as a result Themien collaboration was chancy at best, Lord Hark funded a rebel group on the planet to hinder E'Scarrion's aggressive intentions.

If reports were to be believed, the rebel group had not only grown but gained influence enough to oppose government policies openly.

She was sent as Hark's envoy to the rebel leaders to continue the support and to judge for herself how accurate the reports of his spies were.

It was only good business to confirm the status of your investments for even loyal spies might be turned if the price was right. Never rely on a Themien's ambitions to be your own and so Carrea knew that she would not be the only eyes-and-ears for House Hark.

She had no intention of delivering a false report and dishonoring her family's status in Lord Hark's eyes but the thought of someone looking over her shoulder in secret galled her sense of what was proper.

"Lady? Something is happening around E'Scarrion.." the Captain started as he drew his face closer to the sensor readings.

"What the HELL!?" the man shouted and Carrea looked sharply at the forward panel seeing strange looking creatures moving towards them by some unseen force.

They were the size of a scout shuttles and were numerous.

"Captain, there is no response on any frequency from E'Scarrion." the Comm Supervisor stated in confusion.

"Are they simply refusing?" Carrea asked and the man shrugged. "Lady, I detect no background chatter as well. It's like everyone turned off their systems!"

"Open gun ports!" the Captain ordered, "I want these creatures removed from my space."

The merchant fleet opened fire on the incoming creatures. It was usually customary to obtain permission from the planetary authorities before firing weaponry in-system but with no communication coming from the planet at all, Carrea did not know what else the Captain could have done.

The weapons, though not military grade, caused the creatures to burst apart upon striking them.

"What in the name of Themos are they? Space Spiders?" the Captain growled and Carrea had to admit that the creatures were not of a species she had ever encountered before. Or had ever heard of!

Before she could think further upon the subject, their vessel was struck from the side as if something solid had landed a large impact into their hull.

"CAPTAIN!" screamed someone and the screen showed a new creature. One larger than the others and seemed better armoured.

A crab?

It had obviously come from a different direction judging from the way the alignment computers clattered showing the way their craft careened.

And as the creature's pincers were brought down onto the hull of the craft, they could see that their weapons were having little effect on this newcomer.

"TURN US AROUND!"

The sensor readings, though confusing in the excitement, told Carrea enough to show that the fleet was in disarray.

More and more of these creatures were moving towards them from the planet as sensors pinged their approach and the Barrador woman felt strangely distant to the fact that their position appeared doomed.

It was as if she could not believe what was happening even as it was happening.

She looked at the Captain and he too seemed frozen in fright and as the viewscreen darkened due to the damage the craft was taking, she asked out loud, "Why have we stopped firing?"

She closed her eyes for a second (or so she thought) and when they opened, the Captain was lying on the floor comatose.

Several other crewmembers seemed to faint but Carrea was not about to give up. She moved slowly from the bridge hoping to make her way to an escape pod even as the banging and crashing against her ship rocked it back and forth in the vacuum of space, it's stabilizers losing the fight.

There must be scores of the creatures attaching themselves to the hull!

*



The world formerly known as E'Scarrion...




E'Scarrion


That is what these life/not-life called the ball of dirt they lived on. It was a strange name and one that the Blood would surely not be able to speak even if their species had the ability to vocalize thought. Still, the name and texture with which the not-life screamed out the name was embedded into the conscious thought of the Link and therefore a small group of Blood moved off with the new purpose of contemplating the naming of these balls of dirt that surrounded the glowing orbs of light that helped fuel the effects from That Which Gave Them Life, the Source.

And, just like the name of the attacker of Blood, the intruder of their territories, that name of scourge Themos, there was something given (even if reluctantly and begrudgingly by the Blood) to these not-life/life...



Identity.



It was profoundly different than a label for identity denoted intelligence.


The realization sent a shock down the Link as these creatures were re-classified as life. Not life as the Blood certainly but life nonetheless.

The Olden balked at the designation though they could not refute the puny creatures residing on this ball of dirt having a self identity. The proof was ripped from their fragile minds by the One himself!


So, if they were life and the Blood represented the pinacle of life, was this even a fight of survival of the fittest?


They were pondering the question when, through the Link, the intruding steel shells carrying more of these fragile creatures entered the personal sphere of E'Scarrion.

There were signals being sent out by these shells that the One interpreted as a method of communication these creatures used for distances as their physical voices did not carry very far in an oxygen environment let alone a vacuum but the Blood could make no sense of the signals.

And so the newcomers were met with silence.

A host of of Singers were selected to be sent out with the sole purpose of attempting communication. Olden AN would oversee their efforts and effect accomplishment.


Everything was moving towards ultimate accomplishment and understanding when three things happened at once:

A cry of Blood overwhelmed the link as the newcomers began fire some sort of energy weapon at the Singers.

A distant pain erupted within the One's cerebral cortex as an acknowledgement of a tragedy of immense proportions took root. The eddies of memory travelling along the front of the Source had finally reached the One and the images drove a fear into the heart of the gargantuan leader. The ghost planet had been destroyed!

The third eruption within the link happened quite accidentally. A Gripper was helping in moving the inhabitants of E'Scarrion into an area more managable when one of the small creatures fell. The Gripper, not wanting his purpose intefered with decided to dispose of the offending obstacle in the only appropriate manner he knew how. He gripped the creature with his talons and funneled it quickly into an orifice for safe keeping. This had two effects: One, the creatures being herded gave a unanimous shout and the sudden rise of their fear broke the calming psionic effects that were being projected causing the people to dash every which way to escape the horror they perceived. And Two, the people's actions caused the Gripper's orifice to close in surprise.


And in this pandemonium, House Hark's Blades under House Barrador entered the E'Scarrion system.

*




Behavior


The solid root that determined an outcome's success, determined an action's judgment (justified or not), determined the meaning behind identity and often-times determined the course of a galaxy.


If the phenomena of the changing of colors in the galaxy was not enough, if the rip in the very fabric of space/time known as the Source to the Blood (or to Themien terminology: Engine of Creation) funneling a previously unknown and constant energy into the galaxy was not enough, if the evolutionary changes of the instinctive creature known to be from the Colony to the larger, predatorial, territorial and intelligent creature known to be of the Blood were not enough to set the reader back, then perhaps the following just might.


For you see, the Source and it's effects on the color and composition of space came into being aeons ago. Whole civilizations have emerged and died in the time it's taken one of the Blood to grow to self awareness. Before Themos was Themos, these things...were.

Therefore, there is no logical reason for anyone to question the existence of these things or to know that they were not a result of natural progression...that they were not the norm but, rather, a mutation and a perversion of that which should be.



But the Ghost Planet?

This was something unnatural and it was something of a mystery to the Blood. The planet so disturbed them that a constant Quorom was stationed around the world out of fear.

Ironically, out of a fear of something that naturally did not occur in nature. Something akin to their own rise on the evolutionary scale.


Imagine a planet green and blue and populated. Nevermind the reddish hue of space around it. Now, imagine this world as having no material or physical form. Imagine those lush green and blue colors faded with the near transparancy allotted to spectres and ghosts in literature.

Strangely enough it was a world that, even though without physical form, held all the physics of being real. That even as the spectre or apparition it was, it was a world that the Blood discovered they could not move through as one might a hologram. The farther into this "projection" a creature would travel, the more some sort of psyonic obstruction would grow eventually pounding the creature's mind into a mashy paste. They could, however, reach the "surface" of this ghost world and if they focussed hard enough, they could also "see" life. Or not-life: Bipedal beings that moved about for no apparent purpose the Blood could perceive (at any rate) going about their lives on this spectre world.

On rare occassions one of these beings might also perceive one of the Blood and scream in fright. Perhaps a vague image or spectre-like apparition of the Blood also showed itself to those of the ghost world but more often than not, the beings had no perception of being under the Blood's observation.

And so the goings-on of this ghost world, actions frighteningly so close to the goings-on on the tangible worlds the Blood came to inhabit, continued in apparent obliviousness..which, unsettled the Blood to no end.

For they were used to reactions. They were used to the fright. They were used to hostility. They were used to ..something! But as these beings went about their business oblivious (for the most part) to the Blood that observed them the Blood began to change their behavior. For there was no reaction of any kind to act upon.

Perhaps it was an effect brought on by the strange energy being dumped into their galaxy from the Source that allowed this world to even be visible...whatever the case, the Quorom stationed around the ghost world settled down into a function and they came to be known as Watchers. Observing for years this apparition-like world and it's inhabitants walking, talking and living life as if all the mechanics of the universe worked for them despite their ethereal state.

As the Watchers gazed upon this world, they began to feel..sympathy.. for these not-life. For these beings that existed (near enough) in and around the Blood but did not recoil in horror, did not try to kill (however ineffectively) or destroy Blood as those of similar form found throughout their life. And so those of the ghost planet were in a classification and identity all their own in the mindset of the Blood.

And it was the existence of this ghost planet that helped the Blood psyche take the time to understand those beings (or creatures designated life/not-life or whatnot) that they came across throughout the ages culminating on E'Scarrion. Granted, billions of trillions of living beings died in the interim of Blood expansion but this was but a drop in the bucket in the life of one of the Blood. That they would deign to acknowledge that the people of E'scarrion were different from that which they designated 'not life' was nothing short of a miracle in itself. But the lesson learned from the ghost planet told the Blood that if one people could co-exist around the Blood, might not others?

There was a strange hope of coexistence despite their being the dominant force (so far) within the galaxy as they saw it. For on quite a few of Blood worlds other lifeforms did exist, albeit in hiding and fearful of discovery but mainly the Blood saw these as lower life or not-life. As long as they left the Nesting Grounds alone, the Blood did not usually bother with them.

But there was something feral, something primitive in the mindset of the Blood that was almost as old as time itself. Something that kept them from investigating and observing these other beings as they did with those of the ghost planet. It was as if their subconscious mind knew... knew what these other lifeforms or not-life were and would not allow the Blood to see them as anything but inferior.

Still, as the centuries progressed, the instinct of the Blood gave way to the growing mind and intelligence that was the Blood.

And as new concepts took shape, the behavior of the Blood began to change on a small level. Realities formed within the Blood Link from observations perceived by the Watchers of the ghost world. They could not exactly 'know' as the beings of the ghost world communicated by audio transmission as seen by their facial orifice motions and so the Blood began to put the behavior and actions of the ghost world's inhabitants to memory. And as the Link thought about these actions, motivations and understanding were applied.

And what was seen and interpreted agitated the Watchers. For they saw that the beings, the inhabitants of this ghost world, were agitated in their own right. Something oppressive was taking shape and it was as if the people were, as a whole, preparing to take on something that was larger than themselves.

But simple observation did not, could not, fill in the details.

And, one day, an ordinary day for the Watchers who never left their station, quite unexpectedly, the ghost world exploded. The massive release of psyonic energy rippled through the area the Watchers were stationed and several of them (those "planetside") were instantly killed. Others, due to their distance, suffered an immense amount of pain and mental anguish.

The ghost planet had shattered into an erie ghostly spectre of fire (without heat) and debris which disappeared after a distance.


The Blood, and Watchers in particular, were frantic for reasons why the ghost planet would explode. There were telltale signs of a singular energy beam striking the world prior to the explosions but there were no physical signs throughout the area of space.

In fact, it was quickly concluded that nothing in the area could have been launched at the world destroying it nor could have done so without the Blood's awareness. This mental leap opened areas of logic that the Blood had not considered before. That the ghost planet was not so much an abberation in nature but was an actual world located...somewhere else. The Blood's observance of the world was likened to looking through a window.. perhaps not a clear window but a spacial window nonetheless.

Made possible due to the energy outpouring from the Source?

An outpouring that affected the spectral pattern of space?


A need began to grow.

A need to locate the destroyers of the ghost planet.




It was an act that changed the behavior of the Blood.




Turning Point


The mixture of mash, blood, sinew and bone that soaked through orifice of the Gripper who had attempted to protect the E'scarrion native had set the people off in an understandable panic. It was an erroneous conclusion as the flesh of this new life held little temptation to the Blood. The Gripper had no thought but to protect the creature of flesh but with the accidental crushing the flesh, the senses of the Gripper were suddenly assaulted as they had never been assaulted before.

A sense never prominent before in Blood history was now showing them just what sort of pleasure it's stimulation could bring. A purely emotional response in a race where emotion was in it's infancy state...a physical pleasure that caused several to lose themselves in the purely primitive task of sating their newfound gluttony. The Blood suddenly lost their control and gave themselves over to accomplishing the satisfaction that eluded their actions of filling their greed.

They would come to know that if held in greed's claw, there would be no satisfaction. For the very nature of greed was to want... more.

It was the momentary loss of control that swept through the Blood coupled with the shock of the destruction of the ghost planet that allowed the newcomer vessels to, once again, insert itself into business that did not affect them (according to the Blood mindset) and destroy the remaining Singers attacking the craft that had sent signals to the world of dirt formerly called E'scarrion. The craft fled with the newcomers along a trajectory that AN memorized before giving himself over to the lust that swept the Link.


So pleasurable was the taste that it consumed the Blood in a way no other emotion had. The definitions regarding the quality of life whose heights they tried to accomplish with each age were suddenly no longer valid. Priorities of the past were suddenly no longer priorities in the here and now.


And with a new hunger revived, the galaxy ...their galaxy would never be the same.



For beyond the window were the destroyers of the ghost planet.


And between the window and the Blood remained.... Themos.

House Benly



The Master of the House sighed as he looked over the figures for the harvest coming in. Enough to feed the family and retainers and supporters.


Barely!


Still, the numbers were much higher than last year and a faint emotion of loss swept through him as his youngest son had died that year. It was a hard year and House Benly had struggled with the maintaining of what few Blades he had left. Less crew, less agreements to commitment, vigilant patrols and a lot of prayer to the House Patrons. If any House had called his bluffing they would have ripped his understaffed Blades to shreds and it would have been spelled the end of House Benly.

The master was not an aristocrat born but was actually of common stock. House Benly had, centuries ago, been a mere minor house but the skill of his ancestors had led to a minor house directly striking a Major House eliminating it altogether.

And while it was with a degree of contempt the other Houses looked towards House Benly and their common roots, they did not challenge his family's claim as they had commanded Blades. They merely looked to their own retainers with suspicion knowing that House Benly's rise to power would eventually embolden one of their own minor houses to seek a status not their due. House Benly's clinging to their status by tightening their spending and going without was a hallmark of their minor status roots. No one of 'Royal Blood' would have been able to make those hard decisions that he did and he took strength from that fact.

His spies had informed him of a meeting with Stannes and Hark, two Houses he respected greatly, and he began to worry of Reaver's alliance with Stannes and Craes would be getting another member?

But he figured Hark was too smart to be a tool of the Reaver.

He would have to send feelers to House Mannator who was, along with House Craes, the weakest of the Blade Lords. As far as he knew, Mannator had not allied themselves with anyone since their challange of Varriathorn and the Reaver treachery.

If Hark joined the Reaver, then he feared he might have to follow suit thus increasing the Reaver's growing chance to challenge the Vikar and bring House Varriathorn down once and for all.



House Mannator


The stench of Themien tobacco permeated the man as he drew closer to his dying wife. It was a love lost a long time ago when their only child had died during birth. It was a secret that had never been revealed and despite the incredible efforts of the various houses inquiring of his child, no one had been able to break the utter fiction created that the child was a boy born strong.

He and his wife had kept up the pretense of having child even as their union was dissolving around the edges.

Mannator was a man who looked at the details like an accountant and usually would not make a rash decision without knowing all the facts and he was a man determined to have facts for his ability to fool the other houses led him to believe that they were fooling him as well and he determined to find out their secrets. But he was also a man who, though he ruled House Mannator and was a Themien Blade Lord, did not rule within his own house.


His wife had been the one who had linked House Benly and House Craes into a bid for the Themien Throne which ended badly. His wife had shrieked out Reaver's name over his supposed treachery as did all participants who had suffered but Mannator had known the bid for the throne would not work. The numbers just did not add up and with Reaver on the fence and with no real history of being neutral in the affairs of Themos, he knew what would happen.

But his wife would hear none of it and hounded him to attack until he relented, if just for a moment's peace.

And now she was dying.

He put a hand on her head knowing the doctors had done all they reasonably could and he was not going to pressure them to come up with some sort of miracle cure or last minute suggestion to prolong her life.

Once she was gone, he would have to think about an heir quickly for if something happened to him, House Mannator would cease to exist.

Even has he stroked his wife's hair his thoughts were on other suitable women.


House Reaver


The old Reaver stood up when Lord Stannes entered the room in a clear gesture of affection that was both false and both men knew it.

"Stannes, my old friend! However and whatever you did to weaken House Hark was a master stroke! Now, with Craes, you and I can strike House Hark with impunity!"

Stannes knew the thoughts that ran through the Reaver's head. Remove a potential threat before it had time to become one. But Varriathorn was still alive and it was a fact he mentioned.

"Bah! The old man is dying and his son is an impotent bastard!" shot back the Reaver.

"Do you think the Vikar does not know the situation, Lord?" Stannes shot back. "If pressed, he could send his Blades over to Hark's command thus subordinating his house to House Hark."

"HE WOULDN'T DARE!" the Reaver shouted back in clear disgust. "His family has been Vikar for two centuries.."

"And it does not look like Varriathorn will hold onto it much longer. Do you think he will allow his legacy to fall to you, Lord Reaver? I am sorry, but if he's on his deathbed, the safety of his house from you would be his priority, not the Themien Throne. If Hark could guarantee that safety, the Blades would move over if only to spite you from the grave."

Reaver cursed under his breath realizing that Lord Stannes was indeed correct. "That bastard would do it too.."

Casting an eye to Lord Stannes he gave a grin that was both mocking and disgusting, "So I expect you to advise caution of action once more."

It was not a question which made the statement all the more insulting.

Stannes brushed it off. "Not at all. Through patience, House Hark is weakened with House Barrador engaged elsewhere. But House Hark is not the real threat to the Triumvirate. The Varriathorn Blades are the real threat.
Now we must take action to address this threat."

A door opened as Krel Reaver escorted Lord Stannis' daughters into the antechamber. They had heard the last statement from the Lord and the Reaver heir broke in, "How?"

Lord Stannis looked over at his children as if assuring himself that the Lord Reaver had not mistreated his children. "By bringing in another ally to the Triumvirate and increasing our Blade Fleet's numbers."

Lord Reaver brushed his son's open mouth aside before sound was uttered astonished himself. "You can accomplish this?"

The Lord of House Stannis felt a wave of fatigue overcome him knowing the commitment he was making for his family and for the future.

"My good friend," he managed to say with a straight face though behind the Reaver, he saw his daughters smirk slightly, "I can indeed accomplish this!"

The old Reaver licked his lips in a lecherous fashion as if he could see the Themien Throne ready to be taken.

*


The world formerly known as E'Scarrion



Never before in the history of the Blood has a time been so filled with pain and pleasure. The pain of loss as the destruction of the Ghost World and the Themien interloper settled into their Link just as the pleasure that followed the ingestion of the former inhabitants of E'Scarrion had also brought forth, quite by accident, overwhelmed their senses.

The feeding off of the flesh of a living, sentient creature fueled their feral pride making them feel as if they stood out as the evolutionary pinnacle of life itself.

Nothing described something so much as inferior better than making it your food source.

And as bone and sinew were digested the faint psyonic presences of these people were completely disseminated within the Blood consciousness and with it, perceptions and concepts that were once held as alien to the Blood were now something recognizable.


That was how the Blood came to identify the people behind the ship that visited the Source and those ships that escaped the Olden, AN, and the Singers.


Themien. Of Themos.


Yes, the people of E'Scarrion knew who the Themiens were and what they were about and, in this, both predator and prey held an immense contempt.


The total population of E'Scarrion had nearly been wiped out as Blood of all sizes and castes took part in the "feeding", the pleasure of the consumption sending it's signals throughout the Link.


Even the One had abandoned it's will and mechanical thought processes in favor of wild abandon and gluttony. And yet, even as the euphoria passed, it was hard to let go.


Even a mind conditioned and discplined as that of the One, however, must return to the strictures that helped shape it. His mental claws clicking through the threads of chaotic primitivism as order came to reassert itself.


As this ordered thought began to take root within the Link, understanding of what was passed from the prey to the Blood started to come about and it was then that the Blood realized just how dangerous these bipedal beings could really be. The Blood (once called of the Colony) had been given their sentience from the Source. But these beings who also considered themselves life and equal to anything they met in the galaxy (including the Blood) did not content themselves to wait for the Source to bestow upon them it's radiant abilities. No, they fashioned shells of metal to traverse the great distances between worlds impatient.


It was as if these beings tried to hide themselves away from the shaping light of the Source.


And, in that viewpoint, coupled with their recent experiences, everyone and everything they saw: the people of E'Scarrion, the people of Themos and throughout the galaxy fell into a category that suddenly fit within the mindset of the Blood.


They were life.


But they also gave life so that the Blood might prosper and grow.



They were...



...Food.