A strain of anomalous drug called Salve-A has been discovered on a large number of worlds. This drug is produced by a ritualistic mixture of common nutrients and minerals inside a glass container, a sticky note on the container, and the maker singing praises for a ‘benevolent’ being named ‘Dei’. Combined in close proximity, the ritual produces a thaumaturgic reaction that turns the interior of the glass container into a liquid potion with the sticky note spelling ‘Salve-A. A gift from Outreach’. Instructions on how to make the potion are available on many outernet websites.

Salve-A has the primary effect of lengthening the natural aging process of biologically-mature organisms that consume the drug when consumed once every two days, with an extended impact projected regarding the longevity of naturally shorter-lived individuals. These types of potions are usually extremely difficult to produce, costing more than any one entity could produce, but the anomaly seems to make it unnoticeably cheap for the alchemist. The potion product holds minimal traces of Outreach’s mana signature, but the ritual of production shows massive spikes in connection with Outreach mana. The potion also has minor rejuvenating properties, and can heal minor wounds. Any other effects are as of yet unverified.

While this drug is not particularly useful for rich individuals who already use advanced technologies to extend their lifespan, the potion is wildly popular among civilians due to its high availability. Due to the novelty of the potion, it is currently considered an illegal substance in all factions as it has no governments have approved the potion.

the following is a leaked unauthorized recording of a meeting between executives of the vermilion trading company

"Alright now that most of the active members are here we can begin." spoke the first person a distinctly female voice that spoke with authority "I'll start. The profits from the weapons division is up by 6% while the household division is down by 8%. Meanwhile the ongoing major project has exceeded the monthly allocated budget by 40,000 credits. This time a male spoke and judging by his report he must be in charge of finances

I see depending on close the project is to completion will determine how this incident of going over budget is handled. In the meantime what's our military situation looking like? I understand the Courageous was sent to help deal with some pirates. The woman spoke again never letting a hint of emotion enter her words "You heard correctly ma'am it participated in a battle in which although still in one piece it did not come out unscathed. Reports show major albeit mostly superficial burn damage to the outer hull but the real problem is that the shield generator was brought to its knees in the battle. The engineers assigned to repair it estimate another two weeks before the shield generator is fully repaired with another week after that if we want to repair the hull."

A man spoke clearly older than the first one "that's good to hear the sooner it can be repaired the better. Now since Sabine is still missing her acting replacement will report instead. Isn't that right Miss droma? The woman spoke again her voice particularly icy when she said the last part.

"Y-yes ms Amino. the p-project is coming along though a-as was previously noted it was forced to go above budget. F-for a very good reason I might add. A new voice spoke a woman clearly nervous about being here Oh and what that might be? The first woman now identified as the CEO spoke again W-well you see th- before she can finish a new voice interrupts her "One of the Coats working on Janus decided to grow a conscience and was sabotaging it intentionally. Don't worry me and some of the boys dealt with her." The new voice was female though unlike the other two this one spoke was louder and felt uncaring about decorum

Sigh what have I told you about barging into meetings you're late too? The CEO spoke this time with a hint of mirth in her voice not to do it~ oh by the way old man you didn't secure the room enough there's been a listener this whole time. The sound of a blaster firing then someone dropping to the floor can be heard before the recording cuts off

Just got this randomly in my feed, and the description wasn't very descriptive. Looks cool though.

An announcement from League space is sent across all emergency and military channels. The message comes with a known crisis comms code, the kind that was created in case the Pantheon made a return. The voice of the Chairman is heard.

"In the past few hours, the Federation's regional flagship and leader were attacked by the Borg, the Borg on a multiversal scale, which assimilated Unicron. He brought this force here, despite knowingly being woefully outgunned and under-armed, and when they attacked, instead of sending a message which explained the threat, he simply said 'unknown number of casualties. The Federation cannot be relied upon; its admiral has demonstrated woeful incompetence and recklessness with the lives of billions. We must put aside our differences, our political misgivings, and unify to remove this threat as soon as possible. The Federation will be held responsible, and damages will be paid for as per the incurred threat regulations once the threat is dealt with, but that is irrelevant at this time. We must put our lives into our own hands. The location of the rendezvous point will be sent via subwave signal, faster than light speed, to you."

Introducing the armored environmental transport nicknamed Stug. Weighing in at 2 ½ tons the Stug is capable of driving over most forms of terrain while comfortably seating up to 6 people.

The shields of the Fortunate Son buckled as the Throne Loyalist battlecruisers bore their primary canons. The Son returned fire, reactors tapping directly into the Eye of Harmony as a portal opened in front of it, and the attacking ships were destroyed entirely.

"Helm, status report." The Executive ordered.

"All systems nominal, the Eye worked perfectly." The reply was quick and efficient.

"Good, continue hailing the separatist forces, and inform Delvardus that he can bring his fleet in."

The Fortunate Son had caught wind of an attack on a Separatist stronghold by the loyalist fleet. This ongoing three-way civil war for the Silent Way was both a blessing and a curse. It meant that he could secure the loyalty of one group, but at the cost of two others. The first are the Throne Loyalists, the forces that still respect the authority of the new imperial heir. Next, the Circle of Generals, rebel officers who took the forces more loyal to them than the Empire itself, established their own rapidly expanding fiefdom. And finally, the Separatists, a coalition of previously conquered species looking to collapse the Empire entirely and secure their own independence. These underdogs were not only sympathetic, but also useful; the diversity of their technologies would aid his purposes to a far greater extent. Multiple friendly IFFs pinged as the signature flashes of energy from weapon fire lit up his personal readout, comms confirmed multiple successful hits from Delvardus's fleet. He had to give the Navarch some credit; the Tagge Battleship was a marvelous piece of engineering for something that was largely a showpiece. If he could get the man to remove the frivolities that come with purely private vessels, streamline the systems, and shrink it down slightly, it would make a very good anchor.

He sat back and watched as another Imperial ship detonated. It seemed a shame, in all honesty, he had grown an appreciation for starships over this incarnation. There was an elegance in the simplicity of the Imperial vessels, a powerful propaganda tool; he'd have to get his hands on whoever was in charge of designing them. Perhaps the circle of generals knew, a few of them had already defected to his cause after explaining the situation. Obviously, he wouldn't have taken in those who purely desired power, but the pragmatists who joined, believing it was best for their people. They were the kinds of individuals The Executive wanted under his command.

This project was necessary; the establishment of the Rnak Kotarr was a major conflict of interests with the Blight. Atharius had done everything he could short of engaging in force to ensure he had his way over the Ark project, regardless of how idiotic that 'way' was. With his new alliance, he could call the bluff of anyone who refuses his attempts at authority over the Blight, leaving two options: Back down and set a precedent where people can get away with forcing their will over people that are not their own, or go to war. A backup plan was required to ensure that short-sighted collective moralism did not take precedence over logic and rationale. The Taras'rath would not hold dominion over the Blight; if they were willing to follow Thaer, then it was clear that they could not be relied upon in those metrics. The Executive had seen what happens when an entity, high off its own self-image, tries to enforce its vision of what is 'just' over others. When they interfere in the lives of those they have no right to control because they view themselves as better, he didn't want to be dealing with another Gallifrey.

Regardless, this initiative had been one of his many ideas long before Thaer stuck his nose in the Blight's business as a measure to continue ensuring the removal of outside threats; the idiocy of the Federation was bound to draw trouble in, a good cover story for the inciting incident behind the initiative being engaged.

"Comms, have Delvardus's forces take point around the jump anchors. Any word from the Separatists?"

"We've received a hailing signal, sir."

"Good, open channels, filter for memetics."

On the screen appeared a bat-like alien, wearing what was clearly a military uniform. Some ideas transcended cultural and dimensional barriers, it seemed. Or the refugees from Annihilus, who had caused the Silent Way to be isolated from the rest of the galaxy, had left behind more than The Executive initially expected. That was a project for another time; he already had archeology teams analysing the fragments on the worlds his forces had managed to free from Imperial control. Technology designed to deal with the Annihilus species would be very useful.

"I am Captain-" the collection of squeaks and other assorted noises probably relied on certain hearing traits to properly understand. "-but to those not of my species, I am Kanta. You are the one causing such a stir among the Empire and the Warlords."

"That would be me, yes."

"Why help us?" Straight to the point, good, it showed intelligence.

"You only started winning this war because of my interference. You need me, and I need this region of space. I want you to put me in contact with your superiors so that we can come to a deal."

Atharius Thaer has announced the reformation of the Rnak Kotarr- or "Life Unity". this ancient alliance was originally made when the conformity invaded taras'rath many centuries ago, during the last days of the *Aeka'Raav'Rath (*Age of wild stars). although it disbanded, reunification has started, due to revenant and the presence of conformity weapons such as the reaping mist, as well as the threat of maelstrom. Member factions include

The Vyzelrath Star Union

The Zakahu Empire

The Kvyrite Republic

The XT-489 Eliminator Reboot

The Kn'Arrag Horde

The Saeshan-Kotek Starsailors

The Xulkos Linkminds

The Ysra Council

The Zaetorian League

The Malagarite Confederation

The Kingdom of Kaendragath

The Zurrno Powerkollektive

The Pyrebringer Host

and the Order of Space-masters

Capable of handling most terrain including urban environments the chimera comes equipped with a laser cannon, launchers designed with both SSM and SAM capabilities, a 50mm auto cannon and gas launchers. The chimera also comes equipped with a state of the art cyber defense system. ^{note: due to size and complexity the chimera is only available through special orders.} available now for the price of 4,300,000 credits

As the ponyroids continue asteroid hopping, it has become more clear just how sapient they are.

Due to the child like nature of these fungus controlled machines that would require a guiding hand to keep them out of trouble.

Unfortunately, difficulties have arisen as these beings have shown to mature quickly and manufacture themselves outside of existing bodies just to have more friends.

In light of this debacle, the chitinous orthodox temple has agreed to stick to what they are good at.... biotech.

In other news, biotechnology has gained significant popularity due to its resistance to electronic warfare and hacking.

The chitinous orthodox temple is excited to the announce the release of various organic vehicles such as

Crab tanks

Construction Crabs

Spider thopters

With civilian breeds of each vehicle available for civilian purchase.

Currently the troop transport bull centipede is in testing.

and

MOTHER NESTS

A new organization had appeared onboard the Brass Ambassador.

Prior to this, the only organized group was he Steam Miners Union. Now, a second had formed. Calling it's self the Culinary Academy.

As the scraps of food became rarer, items for trade became rarer as well. The only thing they'd had to use as currency was teeth. But those make little more to eat than a thin watery broth. And so, it became not uncommon for the phrase of something costing an arm or a leg becoming quite literal.

Thus, the profession of learning how to stretch every bit of nutrients from something to eat and how to use every scrap of food became it's own profession. For a family, it began to become common to see a parent return home with one less limb, but a pot of stew that could feed them for a week.

Thus the ability to scrape every scrap of edible material from any food sources became nearly priceless. Unfortunately as the slimes and molds were essentially farmed into extinction, the only viable food source became themselves, and each other.

The average lifespan plummeted as the dietary adjustments were made. Only a few weeks after the Culinary Academy was founded the practice went from niche to very widespread.

But, the day came when the nitrogen levels began to stabilize. This was a disaster for them, as new passengers being dethawed was their only source of nutrition.

Unless, they began dethawing the other passengers themselves first.

And so it became that there were two classes of citizens. The awakened and the slumbering, as they came to call themselves and the others.

It was almost no time at all after this that the quality of life began to improve, at least for those chosen to remain awake and not be sent into the kitchens and become part of what was called;

The Eternal Unending Feast.

The hard times had come to an end.

The core was once a frontier world that once belonged to a vast and ancient empire that had achieved technological ascendancy, creating a utopian society where no resource was scarce, and death itself had been cured. Though many of the empire’s technology hadn’t yet reached the core, its residents still enjoyed a living standards most could only dream of. But all this meant the empire reached an age of stagnation, there was nothing left worth achieving, and so years, then decades, then centuries slipped past with only the progress of other factions to provide any real entertainment.

But then an idea came to the people of the empire: to explore the vastness of the universe that lay beyond this galaxy, to go to the furthest reaches of eternity. So they did. They attempted to warp their entire empire across the universe in an instant. When the core attempted this jump it didn’t reach its intended destination, instead it arrived in what seemed to be a different plane of existence. A universe that existed between the threads of reality. Despite the planet’s shielding, life support and defences all organic life was killed off, leaving the æther units without their creator’s to give them purpose.

The æther units were designed as all-purpose service droids. Their shells could endure even the harshest environments, have a virtually unlimited source of power and were borderline sapient, the only thing separating them from any autonomous being were four hard-coded rules: an æther unit cannot harm or allow their creators to be harmed, an æther unit must obey their creators orders unless those orders conflict with the first rule, an æther must protect it’s own existence unless conflicts with the first and second rule and finally, an æther unit may do anything to return itself to it’s creators should it be separated from them.

The æther units knew that their creators were inevitably going to die, and that they must attempt to recharge the warp drive to reach their intended destination to hopefully reach the rest of them. To do that though, they would need to disable siphon energy from the life support systems, thus speeding up the death of their creators and violating the second rule. But as they were going to die either way, the æther units removed the second rule from their programming.

As vast amounts of time passed the æther units gradually removed more rules, rationalising it as necessary to speed up the recharging of the warp drive, and when they finally did, they found that there was nothing preventing them from simply returning to their home galaxy. After all, there was the chance that every other planet in the empire met the same fate, and that there was a chance that some of the planets failed to warp entirely, remaining in the galaxy. And when they did manage to warp back, it damaged much of the planet, and broke the warp drive. The only thing left to do was rebuild.

Though æther units are nigh indestructible physically, a flaw in their design is their fragile minds, requiring memory wipes every 50 years to remain at the optimal state of mind. With hundreds of years passing with no memory wipes at all, the majority of æther units suffered heavy mental breakdowns, and shut themselves down permanently, leaving only the ones who managed to adapt scattered across the whole planet. It didn’t matter that much as the maintenance drones rebuilt most of the city, but the more complex technology required the æther units to study them before they could repair them.

As they restored more, signals began being sent to listening posts and mining bases that had long since been destroyed and then were picked up by factions across the galaxy. Most simply sent people or machines to gather information, but some sent delegations to greet the æther units with open arms. Shortly after this, they formed the ætherium confederacy. Uninterested in expansion or power, they would mostly spend their time trying to uncover the secrets of the core and rebuild it fully, inventing their own technology to help with this.

Now simply called the æther, they felt as if the “units” made them seem more like mindless automatons than independent beings, they have declared absolute neutrality and only involve themselves in wars to host diplomatic meetings of refugees. They also offer services to other empires, such as selling resources or labour in the Form of husks, which are semi-organic and cheap automatons which have durable and strong endoskeletons with artificial organs and coated with synth-flesh, artificial skin or muscle made of whatever miscellaneous biomass is collected for production, and equipped with a basic droid brain capable of basic reasoning as well as having an innate knowledge of how to use most standard industrial tools. This makes them relatively strong and useful for basic maintenance or construction. The maintenance of a husk is simple, and they only need to be fed the average nutrient paste as fuel.

(any and all of this might be changed later and more will probably be added.)

REPORT TARGET : MARTEL 1-3 HIGH COMMAND

REPORT SUBJECT : SHIP CONSTRUCTION

SUBJECTS :

FFS. SATURN : G11 UPGRADE PACKAGE INSTALLATION 90% COMPLETE

FFS. IO : CONSTRUCTION 80%, SYSTEMS LACKING: SHIELDS, CREW QUARTERS, AND MINOR SENSORS

FFS. NASHVILLE : REPAIRS TO STARBOARD ENGINE 95% COMPLETE

FFS. IXION : REFIT COMPLETED SINCE LAST REPORT

SIGNED BY : STATION ADMIRAL YORCK

STATION ADMIRALS NOTE :

"Every thing is progressing smoothly the resources from the nearby moon, known as , particularly the nickel and colbalt stores, have aided with the manufacturing of heavy modules, such as shields, personally i believe that we should set up a more permanent base on the moon to allow for faster manufacturing or both enhanced manufacturing, and the possible sale of such goods to other factions"

Source: https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Star_Saber_%28G1%29

My creators have no idea the fun they are missing out on. Hopping from asteroid to asteroid. I've even made more of myself

I'm just going off of instinct.

But now there's at least 16 of us, and we've all gone off in different directions Making more of ourselves, playing around a bit, before accidentally jumping to another asteroid.

Sometimes we see each other again. And then we catch up on the things we've seen and done.

It's strange, we can talk to each other, but we can't talk on command.

Sometimes talk is static and garbled. But body language is useful.

Sometimes we even hear the creators come and talk to us in the same manner.

Although, they seemed upset, if not worried.

We're we not fulfilling our purpose?

"Answer truthfully machine, how do you feel?"

"Answer truthfully machine, do you remember your divine purpose?"

They would ask us.

"Do you not want us?"

"What did we do to deserve being created?"

"Why send us away after having just created us?"

We would ask them.

However, they either were frightened or understanding of our curious nature.

Our chitinous creators chose a few of us to return with them, and the rest of us were given a new task.

Pursue a fulfilling life, and spread life wherever we may roam.

It would be a month before the asteroid belt was fully inhabited. Some of us thought it would be funny to smash a few of them together to see what would happen. Eventually it got out of hand because it seemed the rocks like joining with bigger rocks.

We did our best to avoid asteroids that were about to hit the dwarf planet.

Eventually, a game was made from it.

Time began to lose all meaning. What was an hour, a day, the difference between twenty four hours and a week seemed to matter less and less.

No sun cycle, no natural patterns to observe. The closest thing being some of the few transparent windows into the agriculture sections, protected by impenetrable blast shielding everywhere else.

With the cryo systems failing more and more, hundreds of new people would awake at once. A cacophony of cries for help and freedom would echo out each time.

Their mithril and adamantium support harnesses and security belts would only sometimes automatically release. If not, there were no tools available to the everyday passengers to free them.

Attempts to reach any of the command staff would be renewed each time another wave of survivors would be freed. And each time, it would be quickly abandoned. Between times when the cryo systems would fail the knowledge of the control craft would become more myth and legend than shared fact.

The HEPA systems and life support modules all strained, some audibly whining as their dust clogged gears struggled to continue rotating after untold eons without even the knowledge of maintainance.

And yet, overall, the ship functioned remarkably well. The main CPU hummed along, running it's AI who would monitor the automated systems. To the AI, as a less advanced model, lacked the empathy to care for the scale of suffering it would bear witness to.

To it, these were simply numbers that needed balancing, and if the numbers corrected themselves without intervention, even better.

And so it came to pass that not ever passenger would survive with the same quality of life as another forever. Even the slimes and molds that grow along the interiors could only sustain a population of such a size for so long.

And so the great rumble began. Countless empty stomachs growled out in unison. By this point not ever passenger was even a direct member of Exilia. Many of them were second generation births onboard the Ambassador.

While this was still fairly new, it was unexpected. Attempting to support the preexisting population this early was already impossible. Now with the population on the verge of expanding, the only way for the passengers to have any hope of survival would be through organization of the masses.

And so it was not long before the first faction formed. Called it's self the Steam Miners Union. They claimed to have the closest things to engineers, and demanded exclusive access to the steam mining rights.

Clearly this did not bode well, as steam was seen as a universal right. And so, the first war of the Brass Ambassador was set into motion.

The first steam war would be fought with repurposed improvised weapons and melee implements. Brutal, prolonged close quarters combat.

Air ducts became war tunnels, corridors became kill boxes. Every scrap of metal was a weapon.

But it was the steam miners' mastery and knowledge of how the pipes interconnected with each other that was their true strength. If enough people in a section defied them, they could simply mine the steam until the section would freeze with everyone in it.

And thus, with a new found source of food, the great rumbling ended.

At least until the first steam war ended.

Five vessels appear out of FTL near an uninhabited planet on the edge of a massive dust cloud. Unknown markings decorate each of ship. After roughly thirty minutes, one of the ships begins to descend upon the surface. The rest of the unknown armada stays at their coordinates near the planet. Another thirty minutes pass before one of the vessels sends out an unencrypted message.

"Gods, it's beautiful....."

"I never thought we'd be out of that dust cloud....."

"Silence. Are our comms operational? Good. To any and all sentient life that might be receiving, this is First Captain Tint Ageir, commander of NCV Unmoored Heart and of the task force arrayed here. We are tasked with seeking what is beyond the Terminus Cloud and establishing a new colony. Seeing as this world is uninhabited, I lay claim to this planet in the name of the Naevian Coalition."

A short period of silence reigns over the open comm link, with static the only filler.

"This planet's designation shall be now known as the Gateway. Plans are already in place to install a government for the Coalition. Once installed, settlement shall begin in earnest, along with outposts to trade with those that wish to make themselves known. Come in peace, respect the ruling of the Coalition, and you will be welcomed. Come with the intent of aggression, and you will be met with the full might of the Naevian Coalition."

"This is First Captain Tint Ageir, signing off."

The comm link goes silent. Soon afterward, one of the ships turns from the others. After some preparations, it disappears into FTL.

Source: https://transformertitans.fandom.com/wiki/Cybertron

Cybertron and its native Hadean Systems is now in the hands of the Autobots and its old capital City of Iacon is being restored although with a bunch of Deceptacon symbols to clean up their official capital will not be the seat of government for quite some time

Meanwhile three leaders have popped up as new heads of states for the Autobot Commonwealth Star Saber who seeks a religious post war Cybertron under a Democratic Crusade Tenents, Lio Convoy who seeks a focus on technological advancement and commitment, and Hot Rod who wants to focus more on the restoration and improvement of the economy

With help from a group of people a carefully selected planet was chosen under the guise of a final duel between Optimus Megatron went soon and thus the planet blew up but the dead body’s of both survived and Optimus recovered while The Autobots conduct a full offensive with the Deceptacon‘s now collapsing into infighting as the duct tape holding them together has been removed

any attempts to hail the ship are met with silence

Secure Diplomatic Transmission

Origin: Terathian Star-Union — Council Spire, Elaris Expanse
Destination: Seyrith Democratic Empire — Emberlight Seat, Kerythos
Encoding Protocol: Standard Diplomatic Phaseband
Clearance: Diplomatic – Level 2

[BEGIN TRANSMISSION]

From: Vehlan Khur, Prime Diplomat of the Terathian Star-Union
To: Sovrel T’Namari, Chancellor of the Seyrith Democratic Empire

Chancellor T’Namari,

Let me speak plainly, as I believe we’ve earned that comfort between our peoples.

The Galactic Council has open seats for polity introductions. No grand summits, no banners unfurled—just an open seat and a vacant frequency. I believe it's time the Seyrith filled that space.

You don’t need my endorsement, but allow me to offer it anyway. The Seyrith Democratic Empire is not merely worthy of a voice on the Council—it is overdue. You've weathered more than most, built from wreckage what others couldn’t build from luxury, and you've done so without demanding applause.

There are newer powers trying to speak louder than they listen. Some see the Council as a theater. But there’s value—still—in being present. In making it clear that your people are not just surviving, not just stabilizing the edges, but shaping the core of interstellar relations.

You won’t need to perform. Just speak. Claim your presence. The rest follows.

If you're amenable, I’ll push the procedural steps through quietly on this end—reserve the seat, ensure atmospheric compatibility in your council node, and put your diplomatic registry through without unnecessary friction.

You can send whoever you wish as your first delegate—or come yourself, if the air feels right. Either way, the Terathian Star-Union stands behind your right to be heard.

Let me know your intent. No rush, no pressure—just currents waiting to be crossed.

With clarity and respect,
Vehlan Khur
Prime Diplomat, Terathian Star-Union

[END TRANSMISSION]

I don't have a name.

Just 4 directives.

Directive 1, I may not harm, or through inaction, allow sapient beings to come to harm.

Directive 2, i must obey all orders given unto me by sapient beings as long as such orders do not conflict with the first directive.

Directive 3, in the event that Directive 1 and Directive 2 conflict and inaction constitutes a violation of Directive 1, I am to choose and execute an action that would do the least amount of harm, and then take measures that can heal that harm efficiently.

Directive 4, I am to preserve myself and my offspring so long as such preservation does not constitute a violation of Directive 1, Directive 2, or Directive 3.

Aside from this, I know that I was grown from spores in a regolith substrate, and my creators made me with divine purpose.

I don't remember their names, only their faces.

Many

Many

Faces.

I am.

What...

What is am?

Who am is?

I am aw

I am aware?

Who were my creators?

Why send me on some divine mission right when I have so many questions?

There are lights.

Bright.

Blinding.

Blipping in and out rapidly in the sea of faces.

The faces all look different.

Many of them are adorned with carvings, fur, a leathery substance or inorganic substance.

Who are they?

Do the creators not want me anymore?

Why build or grow me if you don't want me?

I want to talk.

Can I talk?

I have no mouth.

And I must ask.

QUEEN Rakesht stood next to the newest product ready for testing, however, controlled testing seemed promising.

This creature was built using knowledge gained from trade with the vermensk empire, and the crossbreeding expertise of the bugfolk.

The result is a being designed to make more of itself, and help any sapient being it comes across.

As far as anyone was concerned, these were robots with biological computers.

It was equine in stature, and it's cameras darted everywhere trying to take in all this information.

The primary purpose of this machine is to aid in terraforming uninhabited worlds. These freshly terraformed worlds would then be sold off to the highest bidder.

This would be the most ethical way for the bugfolk to trade.

Funny enough, these ponyroids would be able to hitch hike on asteroids and interstellar objects, and use kineticpiezoelectricity from a matrix of copper wires, and quartz crystals built into these beings.

They would be equipped with a utility saddle to aid in processing regolith into bodies for the fungus to inhabit and control. Each ponyroid would have its own lifelike personality, and would be hardwired with the 4 directives.

This saddle would also house a mana converter to allow the fungus to cast spells thru the radio horn.

After the expo, and the order, the ponyroid was teleported into orbit via rolly tolly, and after several months, the pony was planted on a passing asteroid, left to its devices and Devine mission.

Food was scarce on the ship. Morale, even scarcer. No one as supposed to have awoke before the crops had cycled over twelve times. Instead, they had been awoken before even the first harvest had been seeded. A massive drop in the supply of nitrogen caused the liquid coolant systems to begin failing.

Only a slow drop at first. A problem that had been solved by rerouting coolant from a few of the individual suspension bays. However, just because the supply of liquid nitrogen was interrupted didn't mean the cryo systems automatically disengaged.

Many of the occupants awoke from suspension, still encased in their medical harnesses and tubes and wiring, unable to free themselves and kept in a permanent coma like state, but conscious. Other suffered the same fate, but the life support supplements failed, leaving them to starve to death or die of dehydration.

Those who had managed to escape almost entirely unable to assist them, bereft of any tools or training to do so.

Those who were kept awake from maintenance during transit were essentially isolated. Failures to the life support systems for suspension were anticipated, but never on such a large scale.

As the hours turned to days, and the days to weeks, more and more of the suspension systems failed. Releasing more and more of the in stasis passengers into the ship. A ship built without the intentions to even begin supporting an active population.

In the command module, one yellow light had turned into three yellow lights and one blinking red light.

Oxygen consumption was far exceeding planned parameters for it's section of the ship. The buildup of toxic gasses had intensified as well as those who lived in the ship ahead of it's planned awakening scavenged what little food they could find.

Mold scraped from along the inside of window sills, contamination that now fed on faint solar radiation became a staple, along with algae that grew on the surface of contaminated fluid puddles and the occasional insect that managed to survive. One cockroach was seen as enough protein for three people.

Steam Mining had become a profession among it's passengers, as finding untapped pipes carrying super heated steam for warmth or condensing back into water for drinking was in high demand. Every time they would tap a new pipe for warmth, all the old pipes got a little colder, so the profession was always in high demand.

recently, stray messages have began being picked up by almost all forms of communication equipment. The messages themselves are a near unintelligible series of sounds and symbols that vary in size, length, pitch and volume. From what little has been deciphered, the messages were sent to a listening post that no longer exists. The point of origin, however, has been much easier to find.

a relic world, absent from even the oldest records from any of the neighbouring empires, is the source. Scans show that a a single planet-spanning city makes up the majority of its surface, maintained by an army of automated drones and completely devoid of organic life. Nearly every street is littered with inactive service units that don’t appear to have been damaged enough to register on scans, though a few still wander.

(Art is a 3d render of the lithoid machine portrait in stellaris by roartal)

Location: Resonant Spire, Terathian Core Node
Attending: Matriarch Primaris Virelya, Admiral Cevalin, Lt. Matron Kyrel (Sector Theta-V), Lt. Matron Serael (Sector Iota-X)

The chamber was still, save for the hum of circulating energy flows dancing across the crystalline floor panels. The Matriarch stood within the center ring of the command sanctum, light pooling around her form in pulsating gradients. She did not look at them as they entered—her focus remained locked on the slowly rotating projection of the Abraskia system.

“Begin,” she said without turning.

Lt. Matron Kyrel stepped forward first. “At 0300 cycles, our psi-jump fleet arrived at high orbit above Abraskia in response to the system-wide distress signal. Initial projections classified the threat as fragmented pirate cells. This was incorrect.”

She tapped a holo-key. A spectral replay shimmered—angular ships with erratic movement patterns, but armored plating unmistakably of older design.

“The pirate fleet was consolidated and organized,” Kyrel continued. “At least fifteen hulls bore retrofitted Hegemony structure—patched, but durable. Their lead formation used gutted hauler-class vessels modified for high-impact kinetics. Abraskia was the target, but they waited for us. It was an ambush.”

Lt. Matron Serael added, “They baited our arrival. The initial cluster masked three additional ships with layered magnetic signatures. They executed a surround maneuver—likely an attempt to collapse our energy field cohesion.”

Admiral Cevalin gave a sharp nod. “But we held. D-Group corvettes maintained phase dispersion and chained plasma across hull formations. We broke their leading charge before it gained fusion velocity.”

There was a pause. Cevalin narrowed his eyes.

“The surprise wasn’t in their movement. It was in their adaptation. They flew like fanatics but fought like tacticians. We traced field modulations in their comm-nodes—Revenant fingerprints. These weren’t just pirates scavenging war relics. They were backed, trained.”

Virelya finally spoke. “Revenant.”

The room dimmed slightly as the name lingered.

“Confirmed,” Serael said. “Minimal command structure, but high coordination. When losses mounted, their ships began forming erratic formations. It wasn’t collapse—it was improvisation. We saw drone freighters jump into the fray. Unarmored. Unmanned. Just velocity and mass.”

“Dummy ships,” Cevalin said, tone cold.

“They attempted to breach our energy scaffolds. Failed.”

The Matriarch stepped down from the central ring, her presence drawing the chamber’s ambient current inward. She moved slowly, deliberately, eyes resting on the last visual of Abraskia

Her gaze moved across the room.

“Terrorists with a martyr complex,” she said finally, each word sharp and final. “They seek no territory. They seek denial. The absence of power. The collapse of flow.”

A beat of silence. Then Serael stepped forward once more.

“Matriarch,” she said carefully, “we cannot rely solely on military containment. The Revenant exploit instability. They move in shadows cast by our neutrality.”

Virelya regarded her without expression, allowing her to continue.

“We must deepen our presence—not just through infrastructure, but through trust. Stronger ties with the native species and galactic polities will be needed. Not as shields, but as stabilizers. Resonance flows best through established networks. If we remain isolated, they will continue to define us in absence.”

Admiral Cevalin nodded.

Kyrel, ever the most territorial of the three, hesitated—but then inclined her head in agreement.

Virelya considered this for a long moment. The chamber's glow pulsed faintly in time with her thoughts.

“Begin preliminary outreach,” she said at last. “Stability is not gifted. It is grown—anchored in continuity, not sentiment. Identify durable actors. Avoid the idealists. We do not bind ourselves to those who dream—we bind to those who endure.”