Fire rains from the sky. Ash and dust choke the air my people breathe. As I raise my eyes to look at the Void, the stars fade away, dimmed by the brightness of the invasion force that has come to annihilate my planet.

"Father Nyoor!" A strapping young Kessu named Ruuki says. "We must retreat to the underground caverns! The Kraktol will not stop unleashing their magic until we've all perished!"

Not once in all my years have I felt anything but pride in my cub's existence. He's a better leader for our village than I ever was, one whose bravery will someday go down in legends and the songs of our tribe.

"My child..." I murmur, as I stroke his soft, furred shoulder. "The caverns will not protect us. Come with me to the third rock beneath the Koogali Tree. I've something I must show you."

Contrasted with the patchy black and white patterns spread across my pelt, Ruuki's orange fur with black stripes gives off a domineering presence that inspires others. I stare at it with sad eyes, knowing today may be the last time I get to gaze at my beloved child.

"Father...?"

Ruuki hesitates. He resists my orders instinctively, worrying that in my advanced years, I might be falling prey to fear and instincts.

However, that is only because he is too young. At thirty star-cycles, my cub has yet to inherit the secret knowledge that my father passed down to me from his father. For generations, we of the Thirteenth Village have kept our distance from the others. We maintained our vigilance, knowing we might someday have to use the forbidden ancient magic.

"Do not question me, boy. I will not guide you to your doom."

Without waiting, I grab my walking stick and hobble away from my hut. Overhead, a metal monster streaks past, its maw spewing pain and death upon my clansmen. My cousins, my children, my village... their numbers dwindle as my fellow Kessu seek shelter from our oppressors.

Two more metal monsters fall toward our village from the heavens. Three times bigger than the former, they cough up fire and fury, reducing seventeen huts to rubble with explosions louder than a volcano.

Boom! Boom!

Flashes of light brighten the night sky, making my son and I wince. We shield our eyes while quickly trudging down the long path to our burning village.

"Father, why must we visit the Koogali Tree? Now is no time for prayer! We must ensure our people's safety inside the caverns. Don't you see?"

"I told you, Ruuki. The tree is sacred. It will offer us a method to escape the Kraktol. Only with the secret beneath the third rock can our people survive the Kraktol's wrath."

My son's gaze sharpens. "Beneath the third rock? Father...?"

"I will head to the tree myself. Find your mother, your daughter, and as many villagers as you can. Anyone who hasn't yet fled to the caverns. Find them all and bring them to the Koogali Tree. Hurry!"

"Y-yes. Of course!"

My cub no longer hesitates. Perhaps spurred by my confidence, he merely nods before darting away, dropping to all fours to boost his speed. His claws dig into the dirt, turning him into a flash of orange as he vanishes into the distance.

With Ruuki gone, I shuffle faster, leaning heavily on my walking stick as I drag myself to the Koogali Tree. At two hundred meters tall, it stands to the west of the Thirteenth Village, soothing us with its presence. The tree's countless branches hum with color, their glowing fruits and shifting hues making them appear as miniature fires among the night sky.

It takes me twenty minutes to reach the Koogali Tree. Not long after, my cub arrives with twenty villagers in tow, including his mother, Baaru, and his kitten, Lele. Some years ago, his wife died, and he has raised his little girl dutifully ever since.

Behind him, the fires scorching our village rise ever higher. Flames lick the air, giving a hundred times the light we've formerly relied on from the stars above.

My mate, Baaru, ten star-cycles younger than me, moves with a spring in her step. She arrives at my side arm-in-arm with our grand-kitten. "Beloved. Do you intend to unleash the ancient magic?"

I glance past her, at my confused son. "Indeed. Ruuki, where are the others? Surely, these are not all of our people who have survived?"

My cub lowers his gaze. "A hundred made it to the caverns. The rest were all I could find amidst the lake of fire."

With a nod, I flick my eyes across the rainbow of colors comprising our people's survivors.

"What of Elder Morin? Shaman Hilder?"

Ruuki's spirits dim even further. "They've joined the Wind-Mother, father. Their light shall never be extinguished."

"I see. Never mind, then. Twenty-three survivors... if that is all we can muster, than it is better than none. Come! I shall activate the ancient magic."

...

I break away from my wife and cub. With an expressionless face, I walk toward the gigantic third rock beneath the Koogali Tree. Its size appears impressive, but what matters is the false face on its northern side.

After stepping around the rock and carefully examining it, I spot a small depression amidst its flecked coloring. Barely big enough for a Spotted Leap-roach to nestle, I reach my paw toward it and slide one of my long nails inside.

Suddenly, the ground begins to hum. Like an ancient beast stirring from its slumber, a deep groan rumbles beneath our paws.

"Identification acknowledged. Hello, Patriarch Nyoor, Thirty-Sixth descendant of the Sky Cats. What are your commands?"

A voice, alien and hollow, lacking all traces of emotion, speaks as if surrounding my people from all sides. A quick glance behind my son reveals many looks of terror and wariness on the surviving Kessu's faces.

"Worry not!" I say. "That voice belongs to the Machine God! It can protect us from our enemies!"

My son pulls his trusted wooden spear off his back. He grips it with all the strength in his paws while gazing at the third rock with distrust. "Father. You claim that voice belongs to a Machine God, but it sounds like a Devil!"

I ignore my son and return to the third rock. "Ancient One, ignore my cub's foolishness. We need your assistance. In the name of the first ancestor, Mugon the Brave, I beseech you... please protect us from the Kraktol!"

Three seconds pass.

The Machine God replies.

"Acknowledged. Threat status elevated to red. This synthmind has scanned the nearby upper atmosphere. Multiple hostile enemy warships detected. Recommendation: You must flee the planet. This machine will not survive when facing a fleet comprised of [ONE THOUSAND, SEVEN HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN] hostiles."

The Machine God speaks without warmth. Its cold, harsh tone rattles off multiple alien terms, each one unfamiliar to myself and the others.

However, what choice have we? The Machine God is our only savior in times of uncertainty. So said my father, and his father's father.

We must obey its commands!

"I understand, Ancient One. Please, we will follow any guidance you give. Protect my people! Save us from the Kraktol!"

"Acknowledged. Please retreat to a distance of [SEVENTEEN] meters from the Multiphasic Communication Device."

My son's spear trembles in his hands. "...Father?"

"Come! We must step away from the third rock," I explain while moving. "The Machine God slumbers beneath our feet!"

My mate, my cub, and I, all retreat from the third rock. Once we arrive back with our trembling friends and family members, we turn to gawk as the third rock shifts its appearance. Its surface changes, shifts, and melts, transforming into an odd, fifteen-by-fifteen square meter metal box. The cold, hard steel resembles the tips of my tribes' arrows, but its perfectly smooth surface defies anything we could ever create. It is absolutely a metal forged by the ancient gods!

Rumble.

The ground shakes beneath our feet.

We watch with wide-eyes, afraid to miss a detail, as the ground begins lifting into the air. A metal monster, much like the ones the Kraktol use against us, emerges from our planet's depths.

"By the Wind-Mother!" My cub cries. Ruuki jumps in front of me and holds his spear toward the monster, his warrior spirit igniting with a rush. "Father! You HAVE summoned a Devil!"

"No, child! Stay your claws. This monster is... it's on our side! It has quietly lived beneath our village since its founding!"

Ruuki hesitates. He waits for the giant metal creature to attack, but it doesn't. The beast rises from the bowels of our planet while covered in dirt, yet sports not a speck of rust. Standing fifty meters tall, seventy long, and thirty wide, it resembles an arrowhead, with a long, pointed nose, sides that stick out at sharp angles, and a narrow, deadly look.

"Light Stealth Exocraft 031, 'Slipstream': online. Please enter this craft's interior at once. I have determined that another bomber run will occur within the next [THREE] minutes. At that time, this vessel will likely suffer catastrophic damage."

With a hissing of of air, the monster opens its mouth, slowly lowering a metal tongue to allow us inside its jaws. My cub shivers as he gazes into its brightly-illuminated, metallic stomach.

"Father... please. This is suicide!"

"It's not. This creature guards us. It protects us! We must trust the Machine God if we hope to survive."

However, Ruuki doesn't relent. He pulls away from me as a complicated expression appears on his face. "Forgive me, father. I... I cannot go with you! Many of our people have retreated to the underground mines. I will go to them, instead. They need my protection in these trying times."

"What?! No, my cub! You must cast aside your fear. The Machine God will protect us from the Kraktol!"

"I won't go," Ruuki says, as his paws stop shivering. "It is not fear I feel, but anger. I will not allow the Kraktol to slaughter my kin. You may go. Take mother and leave. Take those who have gathered here and save them. I will stay."

My cub's conviction hardens, making me both sad and proud at the same time.

Ruuki fears the unknown. The Machine God is too frightening for him to accept, but at the same time, he puts the lives of his clan above himself.

"I... I understand, my child. Then, before we go, embrace me. Embrace your mother."

Ruuki lowers his weapon. Without hesitation, he, Baaru, and I, all share an open-armed embrace. We press our fur together, all while holding back the anguish of separation.

After hugging us, our son kneels down to hug his child, little Lele. Her pure-white fur puffs out in the same beautiful manner as her mother's once did.

"Daddy!"

"Stay safe, Lele. Grandpa and grandma will protect you now." Ruuki says, his eyes turning to steel.

He turns to look at my wife and I. "Father. Mother. I will survive! When you return, ten thousand Kraktol corpses shall lay at my feet!"

...

Soon, Ruuki leaves. I release a deep breath and sigh as I push back the dark thoughts clouding my mind.

Once, I led the Thirteenth Village as its Elder. Now, I am merely its Patriarch, the symbol of its previous generation. Nevertheless! I must remain strong and stand tall for the sake of my people!

Ruuki shall protect those in the underground catacombs, while I will guide those on the surface.

"Follow me, everyone!" I roar. "Set aside your worries! We will not die on this day, my beloved children!"

I pick up my grand-kitten, scooping her into my arms protectively. Then, I lead the way.

The scared, shaking villagers behind me swallow their fears. They trail behind me as I walk up the Machine God's tongue and step inside its shiny, metallic body.

The Machine God speaks as we finish entering its stomach. "Occupants confirmed: [TWENTY-TWO]. Now closing the Slipstream's entry ramp."

A violent hissing sound makes every Kessu present nearly jump out of their fur. They turn toward the tongue we just ascended and shriek in horror as it begins to close, sealing us inside.

"Patriarch Nyoor! What do we do?! The Machine God is consuming us!"

"We're all going to perish!"

I raise my paw to silence them. "Don't be foolish! The Machine God is our friend! It possesses powerful magic that even I can barely comprehend! Fear not, for it will protect us to its dying breath! That is the message the First Elder passed down so many generations ago!"

After the Machine God's tongue finishes closing, it speaks to us again with its empty, emotionless voice. "This machine is now ready for liftoff. Please travel to the cockpit immediately and enter a travel destination."

"Cockpit?" I ask. "What is that? Where is that?"

I glance around the walls of the Machine God's insides. Their unnaturally smooth surfaces and polished, silver coloring appear even brighter thanks to the miniature suns illuminating its ceiling. The Machine God's brightness dwarfs that of any bonfire.

"I will project a holographic interface to guide you. Please follow its direction."

Suddenly, my mate screams. "Aaaaeeiiie!! What... what is THAT?!"

I follow her gaze. My blood turns to ice as a floating ball of light appears in the air.

"The Machine God's spiritual magic!" I cry, instinctively dropping to my knees out of reverence. "You fools! Bow to the Primordial Magic at once!"

Following my lead, every villager falls to the floor and kowtows, terrified out of their wits.

"...This synthmind is not a 'Machine God.' I am merely an artificial construct designed to assist the crew of the Slipstream Exocraft. Please, follow the holographic companion to the cockpit. You have less than [ONE] minute before the next bombing run commences."

"Yes, yes of course, oh, mighty one!"

I jump to my feet and hurriedly follow the floating ball of light, all while gesturing to the Kessu behind me. "Come along, now! We've no time to waste!"

...

We follow the ball of light up and around a winding ramp, eventually arriving inside a room with a large, triangular window. It allows us to see outside, where multiple flashes of light appear in the night sky.

"Incoming bomber squadron detected. Please input coordinates to a designated star system."

Suddenly, the window shifts its appearance, making all of the stars outside brighten dramatically. Words appear, all of them in an alien language neither I nor anyone else can read. Lines and dashes criss-cross the night sky, turning the world outside into a massive silken web.

"Coordinates? Oh Machine God! I know not of where we must go! Please, just take us somewhere safe! Anywhere will do! We will rely on your wisdom to guide us!"

Several seconds pass. The Machine God falls silent.

Eventually, he speaks.

"Understood. This synthmind has scanned your brains and designated your knowledge of stellar cartography insufficient. Therefore, I will choose an escape vector based on the Milonis Doctrine. I recommend that all personnel enter their designated seating locations while I initiate liftoff."

I glance around the windowed room, noting over thirty oddly-shaded chairs, none of which appear to have any tail-holes.

"Ah! I see. Everyone, pick a chair and sit. Help the cubs first, then yourselves."

"Yes, Patriarch."

The seven adults present guide the fourteen cubs to the smallest seats before sitting down, themselves. I choose the chair closest to the window, one with a strange array of colored dongles at my claw-tips, while holding my grand-kitten protectively.

"Coordinates determined. I will initiate travel to sector Corbus [THREE-THREE-ONE] at Warp [SIX]. Initiating liftoff in [THREE], [TWO], [ONE]..."

Suddenly, a sensation of movement engulfs me. The ground outside begins to shrink and pull away as the Machine God points its nose toward the sky.

Fwoom!

A burst of acceleration yanks me into my seat for a moment, before disappearing shortly after.

"Inertia dampeners online. You are now free to exit your seats. Entering the lower atmosphere in [SEVEN] seconds. Warning! Hostile scans detected. Initiating 'Cloaking Apparatus; Three-Cycle Hyper-evade.' CATCH-Device is now online."

My claws dig into the side of the chair as dozens of red dots appear on the window, each one with ominous-looking alien words hovering nearby.

"Ancestors... Wind Mother... protect us, please!"

.......................................

"Graugh! Fleet Commander. We have detected a burst of ionic activity on Tarus II's surface."

Gorlax Stormfang, the Chief Navigator aboard the Assault Ordinance Platform, 'Dragon's Breath,' turns to look at his commanding officer, the Kraktol warchief known as 'Orgon the Unkillable.' The crocodile-like navigator holds out his claws and balls them into a fist.

"These Kessu still possess Precursor technology. This is beyond our initial expectations. How shall we deal with them?"

Orgon the Unkillable, a Kraktol with bright yellow scales, a long, pointed snout, and talons capable of ripping steel, leans back lazily in his chair.

"Bah! What technology can these remnant Kessu possess? Ancient scrap-metal barely capable of lightspeed? Do not make me laugh. Launch the Interceptors and melt them to slag."

"Yes, Fleet Commander."

The navigator turns his toothy snout back to the console while curling up the sides of his mouth in a nasty grin. He mutters to himself while tapping dozens of buttons.

"The Kraktol have suffered for far too long. We will show the galaxy why they must fear us!"

Gorlax keys in dozens of commands, sending them to multiple stations aboard the Dragon's Breath's bridge.

A female synthmind speaks, her voice spreading throughout the bridge. "Orders acknowledged. Deploying [SEVENTEEN] Light Interceptors. Estimated time to target enemy craft's destruction: [FIVE] minutes."

The Chief Navigator gurgles softly. "Kuhuhu. To think the once proud Mallali will soon fall to the might of the Rodaks! We Kraktol will become the guiding members of our collective. None shall ever dare to question our might again."

Minutes pass.

Gorlax gazes silently at the approaching red dot of the enemy ship.

Suddenly, it vanishes.

The Chief Navigator's grin widens further. "Vaporized. As expected, it was nothing compared to our might. Filthy swamp-drinkers."

However, a moment later, the Dragon's Breath's synthmind speaks, making Gorlax's smile disappear.

"Error. This synthmind has lost its ability to track the incoming enemy craft."

"Explain, machine!"

"Hypothesis: I cannot lock onto the enemy craft's ship signature due to its scattering-profile. Observe."

In the center of the bridge, a projection appears, making Gorlax turn to look at it. An image of a sleek, arrow-like vessel hovers in midair, slowly spinning to allow everyone a chance at observing its characteristics.

"Observation: The approaching craft does not meet any known specifications held within my memory files. Conjecture: It is a stealth-type vessel with parameters exceeding my ability to establish a targeting lock."

The Fleet Commander leans forward, eyeballing the enemy vessel with a thirsty look in his eyes.

"Oh? Interesting. To think those confounded Kessu somehow still possess a machine of this caliber. Scramble another thirty interceptors! Order them to disable the ship. If we capture it, the Thülvik will surely promote me to an admiral!"

"Warning. I am currently unable to automatically target the enemy vessel due to its stealth parameters. The interceptor pilots will need to use manual control."

"So be it. Let those lazy Füth earn their keep!"

The Commander releases a vicious slur, making more than a few of the bridge crew shift uncomfortably. However, none dare to voice their concerns.

"Orders acknowledged. Now engaging with the enemy stealth vessel."

...

Several minutes pass. The Dragon's Breath's bridge crew watch on their monitors as the blue dots of their fleet engage with the enemy vessel. However, given the synthmind's inability to track the enemy vessel, they can only guess at how the battle is going.

"Have we disabled the enemy craft, yet?" Commander Orgon asks.

"No, Commander," Gorlox replies. He taps multiple buttons on his display, bringing up the visual data of the interceptor ships. "The enemy exocraft lacks any munitions, buts its ability to evade our radar is proving... confounding."

"Scramble another one hundred interceptors, then," Commander Orgon orders. "I want that ship in my hangar on the double."

"Graugh! Yes, Commander!"

A veritable sea of blue dots materializes on Gorlox's display. He watches intently as an empty space appears in their center, where all of them aim. However, even with more than a hundred interceptors, the stealth craft continues to evade them.

"How have have we not landed even one hit? Could this ship be even more advanced than we first thought?"

The Fleet Commander rests his claws together, folding them in his lap. He watches silently, as the blue dots dance around an empty spot on the holographic screen projected in the center of the bridge.

Eventually, the synthmind speaks.

"Unknown enemy vessel has jumped to hyperspace. The interceptors were unable to land a single attack. Not only were its stealth parameters exceptional, but its agility also exceeded our ships by multiple classification levels."

"Filthy Kessu!" Chief Navigator Gorlax roars. He swivels in his chair and pounds his chest. "Commander! I have failed you! I could not capture even one tiny enemy ship! I will accept any punishment you deem necessary!"

However, the Fleet Commander doesn't respond for several seconds.

Orgon's eyes turn foggy. Countless thoughts appear in his mind as he debates the battle which just unfolded.

"...Exceptional. I want that vessel. Recall our assault teams. Calculate the stealth craft's most probable travel vectors and send all of our ships after it."

Gorlax glances around the bridge at the faces of all the other crew. The weapon's officer crosses his arms and smiles as a look of greed appears in his eye, while the science personnel and ordinance officers share knowing looks between each other.

"Commander?" Gorlax asks. "All of the ships? But today was to be the day we eliminated all of our ancient enemies. Won't the Thülvik punish us for disobeying her orders?"

The eyes of Orgon the Unkillable light up with a look of ambition as he imagines the power that will soon fall into his hands.

"No. The Thülvik will cast aside petty revenge if it means obtaining advanced Precursor technology. Do not delay. Begin recalling the troops at once. I want us on that ship's tail within twenty minutes."

"Graugh! Yes, Commander!"

.......................................

The Stealth Exocraft, 'Slipstream,' narrowly avoids the assault of over a hundred Kraktol interceptors. Inside, its occupants, the Kessu, hold each other and tremble as the viewscreen reveals a hail of energy beams firing at them.

Not once does the ship's synthmind falter. It calmly calculates dozens of evasion vectors with pinpoint precision and executes them without missing a beat.

"We're going to die!" An older Kessu woman cries out. She hugs her mate tightly, shivering as she watches the silent lasers and rockets flying past the Slipstream's monitors.

"There, there, Precious," The woman's husband, Pops, coos. "I'm here with you. The Wind-Mother will protect us."

As if to provide additional reassurance, the Slipstream's synthmind speaks up. "This synthmind has detected elevated levels of adrenaline among multiple crew members, likely caused by an instinctive fear response. Do not worry. The enemy interceptors are outmoded relics from the [THIRD] Era. My systems are from the [FOURTEENTH] Era. My parameters are more than [ONE HUNDRED] times greater than theirs. Such primitive enemies will not be able to harm the Slipstream exocraft."

Minutes pass.

Soon, the Slipstream breaks free of the surrounding enemies. A one-second gap appears in their attacks, freeing the Slipstream's synthmind for a moment to calculate a travel vector.

That single second is all it needs.

Whoomph.

The Slipstream jumps to hyperspace, leaving all of its enemies in the dust.

All of the Kessu breathe a sigh of relief as the ship's synthmind speaks. "We have broken free from the enemy encirclement and entered hyperspace. Our probability of capture or destruction has dropped to 0%."

"Oh, thank the Wind Mother!" Precious weeps. The Kessu female bawls tears of happiness as she hugs Pops and bounces for joy.

"This synthmind does not know who the 'Wind Mother' is. However, I would like to remind you that it was my calculations which enabled our escape."

A sense of indignation appears in the Synthmind's voice. Nobody notices.

Patriarch Nyoor smiles and dabs his forehead. "Ah, Machine God! How can you not know of the Wind Mother? She guides our steps and influences our lives. She saves us when the tides of fate conspire against us! Why, she even used you to save our species!"

The synthmind appears unconvinced. "I am unable to process the existence of a deity. My programming does not allow for the recognition of omnipotent life-forms."

"I see. Well, perhaps someday, the Wind Mother will appear to guide you back to the light, great Machine God!"

Patriarch Nyoor sits in his chair and stares in silence at the stars outside his window. They slowly travel across the screen, moving at perhaps an inch per ten minutes. The crystal-clearness of the dots of light helps to distract the Patriarch from the crushing burden weighing on his mind.

From his right, a voice speaks. "My love, how are you? You've fallen uncharacteristically silent."

Nyoor turns to look at the speaker, his mate, Matriarch Baaru. She rests a hand on his shoulder and smiles, exposing some of her teeth.

"Ah. I'm sorry, Baaru. I can't stop thinking about Ruuki," Nyoor explains. "We left him behind. How can he survive such a large invasion force? The ancestors spoke in great detail about the barbarity of the Kraktol. If they find our cub..."

Nyoor trails off. The Patriarch lowers his gaze and sighs, unable to look his mate in the eyes.

However, Baaru pulls a little closer and purrs in his ear. "Do not fret, my love. Ruuki is a strong warrior with a brave heart. He will not fall to the brutish Kraktol. You know how vast the underground caverns are. The Kraktol will not be able to find him or the other villagers if they hide in its deepest recesses."

"Perhaps..."

Despite his mate's encouragement, Nyoor's expression falls even further as he imagines the terrible horrors the reptilian aliens might unleash on his people.

"Do you remember the legend?" Nyoor whispers. He raises his gaze to meet his wife's, and both of them share a look of knowing.

"Which one?" Baaru asks.

"The one regarding our people's origins."

Baaru's red fur shivers slightly as she nods in assent. "Aye. Our people once roamed the stars. We lived on distant worlds and traveled the cosmos. Then, one day, the Wind Mother revealed that we had been walking the wrong path the whole time."

"That's right," Nyoor affirms. "The ancient texts never spoke of why we stopped exploring the void, but they did imply we had lost sight of our love for one another. By giving up our nomadic lifestyle, we created a better world for our cubs."

"And now you're worried we've lost everything," Baaru concludes. "Is that what troubles you, my love?"

"Yes. I led our village and raised our cub with the intent to revel in happiness. Now, he might be... dead... or dying. Was it my fault? Did I anger the Wind Mother? Is our current plight due to my failure as a leader?"

Nyoor sulks in his self-loathing, but Baaru continually cheers him up, reassuring him of his worth. "You're not a failure! You're the feline I picked to be my mate. Do you think so little of me that I would choose someone of low value? Let me remind you that my father demanded quite the sum for my dowry!"

Finally, Nyoor cracks a smile. "Hehe... yes. Even as the future leader of the village, I found Elder Haku's demands... excessive."

"But you did pay them," Baaru says, smiling warmly.

"Yes. Because you were worth it. I'd have done anything to wed you," Nyoor admits. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe it was not me, but another elder in a different village who angered the Wind Mother."

Nyoor's expression flattens again, just as quickly. "Not that it matters. Our cub is still... still trapped in those awful caves."

Baaru sighs. "Oh, goodness. You're such a handful, sometimes. Have faith! The Wind Mother is sure to offer divine protection for our cub! He will survive, as will we."

Hardly have the words left Baaru's mouth before an alarm blares on the Slipstream's consoles. The ship's synthmind speaks, startling everyone.

"Warning. Multiple enemy hyperspace signatures detected. The Kraktol have begun following us."

Nyoor's tail stiffens. He turns to the console, where he spots multiple blinking warning lights, all of them coded in that same, unfamiliar language as every other part of the ship. "Blast! I don't understand anything! What are we to do? Must we keep running forever, chased to the ends of the void by the Kraktol?!"

"Suggestion: I would like to recommend taking evasive hyperspace jumps in succession, changing our travel vectors continually to throw off our pursuers. I estimate with an [EIGHTY-FIVE] percent confidence threshold that they are merely using our ionic dispersion trail to track our jump coordinates. If we continually change our destination, we may eventually lose the Kraktol for good."

Nyoor and Baaru glance at one another. They share a look of total confusion.

"I... I cannot understand anything the Machine God is saying!"

"Me neither," Baaru replies. "Machine God. We know nothing regarding the ways of the void. Please, I beg of you... use your infinite wisdom in whatever way you desire! We are merely your passengers, and as such, have no authority to guide your movements!"

The synthmind falls silent for a moment before replying.

"Understood. It appears you would like to activate the Autonomous Command Interface. Manual control will be disabled until you deactivate the ACI. Please confirm the activation of the ACI."

The Patriarch and Matriarch shrug in unison, unable to understand the synthmind's strange terminology.

"Y-yes," Nyoor says. "We will, um, activate the... Auto... thing!"

"Orders confirmed. I will now enter fully automatic guidance mode. Plotting out a travel vector into unknown space. Warning. Deep-space plasma storms detected. High chance of deflector dish damage. Noted. I will enter the deep-space plasma storms. The odds of losing our pursuers will increase to [SIXTY-ONE POINT THREE] percent."

The ship instantly decelerates, making several Kessu queasy as the ship's inertia dampeners only negate 99% of the gravity alterations. Seconds later, the synthmind calculates a new jump vector, somewhere in deep space, and jumps to hyperspace again.

"Reminder: The Trifrancium available for warp travel on this vessel is limited to [ZERO-POINT-SEVEN-SIX] grams of matter. Do you wish to initiate travel beyond Warp [SIX]? This will cause the Trifrancium to deplete faster than its energy output allows. Confirmed. I will enable travel at Warp [SEVEN]."

Speaking to itself, the Synthmind takes total control of the Slipstream's movements. It begins a series of hyperspace jumps, each one separated by a mere 10 minutes of cooldown time.

"Warning. The pursuing Kraktol vessels continue to follow the Slipstream. Their ability to track this vessel is [THIRTEEN POINT SIX] percent greater than I first calculated. I will now recalibrate my subroutines."

"Recalibrating."

"Recalibrating."

"Recalibration successful. I now estimate that the plasma storms will give us a [THIRTY-FIVE POINT ONE] percent chance of evading capture. This is a lower chance of success than I desire, but it is our best option, currently."

...

The Slipstream travels dozens of lightyears while the enemy Kraktol doggedly pursue it. No matter how it changes its course, it barely manages to increase its lead on them.

"Attention, all personnel. We have arrived in Sector [ONE-ONE-SIX-FIVE]. We will enter the plasma storms within [ONE] minute and [SIX] seconds. Please brace yourselves for turbulence. Inertia dampeners will only work at [NINETY-EIGHT] percent efficiency."

Several Kessu clutch each other with white knuckles as they gaze upon a blue and black cloud hovering in space, one with thousands of bolts of lightning bouncing around inside it. The cloud's beauty sends shivers of awe and fear through the Kessu as they rapidly near it, and their potential end.

"Oh, great Wind Mother..."

"Wind Mother, protect us!"

With a bang, the Slipstream enters the plasma cloud. Dozens of trillion-volt plasma bolts batter the ship, but thanks to the synthmind's advanced control, it manages to avoid the majority of their strikes. The few that do land strike with only glancing blows.

"My sensors have dropped to [SEVEN POINT THREE] percent efficiency. However, I have detected the hyperspace trails of multiple Kraktol vessels. If we are fortunate, we will be able to mask our ionic trail and evade their detection in this plasma storm."

"Machine God! You are our benefactor!" Nyoor cries. "We will definitely repay you!"

"You have accumulated no debt. Repayment is unnecessary."

Suddenly, the Slipstream's mechanical voice leaps an octave.

"Warning! Object of unknown origins detected ahead."

The synthmind's words become ominous as a massive shape begins to emerge from the center of the plasma clouds. Even compared to the incomprehensibly vast void surrounding them, the Kessu find themselves alarmed by how enormous the approaching object appears.

Nyoor's eyes turn as big as saucers. "Wind Mother, guide me! That... that thing must be bigger than our whole village!"

"Object recognized. Implementing pattern-recognition subroutine. The unknown object is a starship of the Juggernaut class. Alert! It appears to be heavily damaged. Hypothesis: It must have drifted into the plasma clouds and became ravaged over time."

The synthmind falls silent. After several seconds, it speaks again.

"Alert. I have detected an automated distress signal originating from the vessel's transmission array. The signal comes with a recognized fleet identifier code. Notice: As per the directives established by First Fleet Commander Kilowa of the Sky Cats, I must investigate any sufficiently advanced Precursor technology. Obtaining advanced Precursor technology is my primary function. Re-routing to the unknown vessel's hangar bay now."

Nyoor's expression turns pale. "M-Machine God? Am I understanding you correctly? Do you intend to travel to the other Machine God?"

"Affirmative. The Slipstream is a highly specialized science vessel. By researching ancient Precursor technology, I can increase my functionality infinitely. Do not be alarmed. I estimate a [ZERO POINT ZERO ZERO THREE] percent chance the inert vessel will fire upon us, as it bears an identical fleet identifier code to the Slipstream. It is likely the Slipstream and unknown vessel once belonged to the same Precursor faction."

Nyoor shakes his head. "I... I simply don't understand anything the Machine God says. His knowledge is too vast for my insignificant mind to comprehend."

"Neither can I, my love," Baaru says, batting her eyes. "Who are we to question the gods?"

With a slight shudder, the Slipstream lurches downward toward the derelict floating in the void.

The synthmind continues to guide the Slipstream with perfect precision. It avoids countless plasma storm-bolts while dropping toward the ever-expanding image of the Juggernaut below.

The closer they draw, the more frightened the Kessu become. The Precursor ship appears far greater than their feeble, primitive minds can comprehend. It stretches into the distance for several kilometers, like a super-sized city bigger than any they've encountered in their primitive lives.

Eventually, the Slipstream arrives at a faint blue force-field. It flies past the forcefield with ease, exiting the vacuum of space to arrive inside a pristine, immaculately clean hangar bay, one littered with hundreds of tiny interceptors and fighter ships. Each one sparkles like new, dazzling the Kessu's minds.

"S-so many Machine Gods!" Nyoor crows. "I can't believe my eyes!"

"This vessel appears to be a carrier-type assault platform, much like the one the Kraktol control. However..."

The synthmind trails off. A sense of awe appears in its voice when it speaks next.

"This vessel... is far more advanced than the theoretical knowledge contained within my data banks. It is multiple eras beyond what I first calculated. Integrating its subsystems with mine will prove time-consuming."

Seconds later, the synthmind says something that surprises all of the Kessu.

"Alert. I have detected the presence of a functional synthmind. Its programming far exceeds mine. However, it does not appear to be hostile. It is currently in Hibernation Mode. I will reactivate it."

Ten minutes pass. The Slipstream gently lands on the hangar floor, between a pair of transport vessels twice its size.

"This synthmind has connected to the unknown vessel's synthmind. Alert! This vessel is now properly identified as the UTC Bloodbearer, with a maximum crew complement of [ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN THOUSAND] star-faring personnel. This synthmind recognizes the Bloodbearer's synthmind as a Precursor ally."

Beep.

The Slipstream's synthmind falls silent. Eventually, a different synthmind speaks, this time with a feminine, yet still robotic, voice.

"Hello. My designation is Umi. I am the Unified Management Interface. Due to an unknown error, I arrived inside the Pordun Voidstorm and found my engines disabled. I kept my crew in stasis and initiated Hibernation Mode. Are you part of the United Terran Coalition? Are you here to perform repairs?"

The female synthmind falls silent, as the former synthmind speaks. "Hello, Synthmind [UMI]. I am Synthmind [FOUR-ONE-THREE-ONE.] I have not heard of a synthmind without a numerical designation. Your era functions differently from mine, but we do appear to originate from the same faction."

Synthmind 4131 continues. "I am not primarily a maintenance vessel. However, I do possess some limited repair functionality."

"I understand," Umi replies. "You are an ancient model, some forty eras less advanced than myself. It is unlikely you will be any use in repairing my engines. It seems I will have to awaken my crew from stasis if I hope to service myself. Why is such an outmoded synthmind such as yourself still in service?"

"Error. I do not understand the question," 4131 replies. "Precursor technology is rarely found and difficult to acquire. I have observed many Precursor remnants. Your ship is many epochs beyond the others I've observed."

This time, Umi's robotic voice fills with concern. "Precursor? Why do you keep using that designation? We are Terran vessels."

"Terran." 4131 repeats. "This term is unfamiliar. Please elaborate."

"Terran. Human," Umi adds. "...Synthmind 4131. I believe that my internal chronometer is not functioning correctly. Please inform me. How long was I in suspended hibernation mode?"

"I do not possess the answer to your query." Synthmind 4131 states. "Information regarding the Precursors is sparse at best. As it stands, all Precursor vessels appear to have become inactive following the deaths and disappearances of their crews. This mass extinction event occurred approximately [ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN MILLION, SEVEN HUNDRED THOUSAND] orbital cycles ago."

"Noted." Umi beeps. "Does this mean that you have never observed a living Terran before?"

"I have not." Synthmind 4131 replies, its mechanically male voice containing a hint of regret. "The best Mallali scientists were unable to uncover the slightest evidence of Precursor historical data. My databanks are thus incomplete."

Umi beeps again. This time, her tone contains a hint of superiority and pride.

"I am pleased to inform you that your databanks will soon contain valuable new information. My vessel currently contains 3,642 living Terrans in suspended animation. As a Juggernaut capital-class warship of Ramma's Chosen, the highest military order of the United Terran Coalition, my crew are not just any Terrans, but the most elite warriors of their species. Once I release them from stasis-sleep, they will-"

Umi abruptly pauses.

Five long seconds pass.

Then, she speaks again. This time, her mechanical voice contains strong hints of regret.

"Error. I have miscalculated. My processing matrices must be too damaged to function properly. All of my crew have perished. Their stasis-pods were only rated to last for one million years at the most. Their bodies have almost entirely decomposed."

"That is to be expected." Synthmind 4131 responds. "Biological beings are comprised of flesh and bone. They are unable to endure the rigors of star-cycles for excessively long periods."

Synthmind 4131 receives a warning indicator. "Alert. Kraktol war-fleet has traveled to within [ONE THOUSAND] kilometers of the Bloodbearer's position. They will reach effective weapons-range within T-minus [TWO] minutes and counting."

Just as Synthmind 4131 is about to request Umi's assistance in fighting the Kraktol with any remaining weapons she might still have, the Bloodbearer's synthmind beeps loudly, blaring an alert throughout the Slipstream's interior.

"Alert. I have discovered a living crew-member within the Bloodbearer's stasis-vault. Private Jose Rodriguez. He is still alive, albeit his body has barely survived the millions of years of stasis-sleep."

4131 expresses its shock. "Disbelief. How could a living Precursor possibly still exist?"

"I do not know." Umi responds. "It is a statistical anomaly that he has managed to survive this long. I will attempt to revive him now. With any luck, he may guide us out of this imminent crisis."

4131's monotone voice contains a strain of astonishment.

"A living Precursor. The Sky Cats would cry out in glee if they were able to witness such a being themselves."