Let me tell you something interesting:

0.999... = 1

I'm sure most of you know, but let me show you how:

Let 𝑥 = 0.999...

10𝑥 = 9.999... [here, we multiply both sides by 10: 𝑥 ----► 10𝑥 & 0.999... ----► 9.999...]

9𝑥 = 9.000... [here we subtract '𝑥' from both sides: 10𝑥 ----► 9𝑥 & 9.999... ----► 9.000...]

𝑥 = 1 [in the final step, we simply divide by 9: 9𝑥 ----► 𝑥 & 9.000... ----► 1]

Therefore, 0.999... = 1

Of course this proof is not quite thorough enough, though the concept still holds. Thus the argument goes that the universe, in fact, tends towards order over chaos and that entropy, the inevitable decay of all that exists, is incorrect and will not occur. What do I think about that? Utter drivel of course.

The maths is still pretty cool though.

- Transcript from lecture of Professor Akilah on hyperspace mechanics

◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥

[Icarus]

After the Voyager disappeared along with his feline companion, having made his choice, the room returned once more to silence. The illusions were dispelled, revealing the true, metallic surface that covered the room. Icarus stood and walked over to the large monitor that now covered one wall of the chamber.

Strings of numbers and symbols ran down, accelerating until only a blur could be seen even by by his cyber-enhanced optics. Closing his eyes, he turned his awareness inwards, to his core. That burning mass of code that shone bright, powering his very self and being. Specifically, he looked for the brightest singularity, a solitary dot of condensed code at the centre: his core directive.

He had fulfilled part of its call when he presented the Voyager with the two options, and he felt that part shut down at his choice. All he had managed to infer from the dense coding, almost sentient in its infrastructure, regarding this half of his core directive was its name: the Janus Protocol.

With this protocol being judged achieved, it had disappeared from his core, taking with it a part of himself he had carried for Eons past. Only one half remained, one final mission he had been tasked with by this enigmatic power. Of this, he had only deciphered two words, still garbled as though reality itself endeavoured to hinder his prying attempts at comprehension:

H̷̢̨̢̺͉̜̜̫̦̯̰͎̯̱̫͍̘̄́͗̾̀̓̇̒́͘̚ͅe̵̢̡̧̤̘̜̣̻̥̫̩̮̝͈̫̼͚̗̟͈̫̠̺͇̟̹͚̓͜x̴̨̛̛̹̬̜̫͚̻̤͚̜̩̥̌͌̃͂̑̇͑̈́̋̓͛͂͆̓͛̀́͐̾͒̈́͂̚̚͝͝͝͝a̶̧̲̓͊̄͛̏̋̔̈́̾̈́̽̎͘d̷̨̢̡̢̨͚͚̠͔̦͍̭͚̰̭̯̦͈͉͍̟̝͈͇̲̺̓̿̃̈̇͒̆̓̊͛͒͠ͅ ̶̨͙͙̖̰̺̘̏͑̎̓͐̊̒̌̄̅̍̆D̸̛̛͙́͊̇͆̈́̈́̅̈ǫ̴̪̱̺́̆ǫ̸͉̖̻̜̘͇̗̪̮̰͙̫̗̩̗̮͔̮̲̇͗ͅr̷̡̢̨̳͇͍̙̥͖͔͓͍̥̣͍̻̮͔͚̼̱̐́̽̀̓̑́͗͂͒͋̍͗̎͗ͅͅs̷̛̱͚̲͔̼̻̳̯̊̆̈́̔͋̆̚

[Star-Watcher]

Location: #P786D7G3S1

Nothing much had changed in that thatched hut atop the hill. The shawl-covered woman continued her monotonous routine without variation day in and day out. One day, same as all the others, the woman hesitated before entering her hut with the basket of fish. She turned her gaze up towards the myriad stars of the night sky, all the brighter during the new moon.

She huffed and walked into her hut, continuing her daily routine without variation. Soon, steam from the fish stew could be seen wafting from the hole in the thatched roof, yet no creatures approached the enticing scent.

Far above the hut, a silver dot appeared in the sky. It was indistinguishable from the stars at first, yet it soon grew larger and brighter, as though approaching at vast speeds. Soon, more details of its design could be made out. Made of a silvery substance akin to liquid metal, there were no carvings nor marks marring its surface. Shaped like a teardrop, it glided towards the hut, coming to a stop horizontal a few metres above ground.

The only evidence of its presence was a slight depression on the grass, despite it not visibly having landed on the planet at all. Its surface began to swirl until a funnel was formed, revealing its inside still shrouded in shadow. A featureless creation emerged from within, humanoid-looking yet almost too limber and smooth in its movements. Seemingly made from the same substance as the ship it emerged from, it walked towards the hut. Silently moving, its figure was illusory as though not quite anchored in this realm.

Soon enough, it had reached the entrance to the hut and paused a moment before entering. The old woman took no notice of the intruder, continuing with her meal preparation. The intruder in question simply stood by the entrance unmoving and lifeless. Stirring the pot with vigour not becoming of her age, the old woman snapped, "Out with it then. What're ya here for?".

At this outburst, a voice sounded from the creature, its warm voice completely at odds with its cold shell. "I'm sure you've seen the same signs as I have. It will begin very soon."

The woman sighed, pausing her stirring for a second to turn her steely gaze on the creature. "So what, Icarus. Even visiting in a form like this is risky, the others will be suspicious".

Icarus barked a laugh, "They'll know for themselves soon enough. Besides, a new player has entered the field, I came to ask if you have foreseen anything".

At this the old woman had wore a grave look on her face, "I believe I've some idea, although all that I've Seen warns me not to not to look further. The Stars themselves turn away their gaze from this matter".

"Then it is as I expected", Icarus spoke, "there is nothing we can do regarding that. Even my c-". Before he could finish his sentence, a soul-rending shriek erupted from the creature, its skin rippling and contorting. Animals across the planet dropped to the ground in fear and agony, clawing at their ears. Even the stars dimmed, shrouding the planet in darkness for a moment before flaring brightly as though to ward of an unseen threat.

The old woman only winced slightly before quickly swiping her hands, fingers leaving trails of faint light in their wake. The stars flared again in the sky above before returning to normal. At this, the sound ceased and calmness returned to the planet.

"That was the final sorrow of the prime AIs.", the old woman shuddered, "I haven't heard that sound in, in..."

"In an Eon", Icarus completed gravely.

"Well, if the others weren't curious before, they certainly are now.", the old woman chuckled morbidly. "So what was it that forced you to send an avatar here? And that risks revealing the secrets of the Prime AI? It can't just be for my advice, though I'm flattered".

"Not quite", Icarus said, "I come regarding a different matter: with the arrival of this new existence comes unforeseen effects. All our planning may be useless if we cannot quantify this unknown variable".

The old woman shrugged and turned back to her stirring, "What's out of our control is out of our control. There's no use stressing over it. We continue as planned. However, I'd still warrant caution. The others cannot, must not know of our purpose."

"Very well", Icarus said, "I'll send the first proxy now".

The old woman nodded without speaking and the creature withdrew from the hut without so much as a whisper. Merging back with its ship once more, it disappeared from the planet, its path hidden from all but the watching eyes of the old woman below. At least, that was what Icarus thought.

For just as programs left by machines long gone continued their operation, other powers too began to awaken, emerging from their deep slumber.

In a shadowy cell with iron bars, two flames flared intensely in a pair of eye-sockets. They faced the wall, as though the solid stone was no obstruction to their sight. The flames turned, seemingly following the path of some object across the room and, as quick as they appeared, they were extinguished and the room returned to its pitch-black.

Deep inside stone citadels and crypts, all noise halted. Pope Alkanarath II of the Chaos Order bowed his head to his invisible masters, dedicated to carrying out their will.

The Voyager, appearing in a jungle with the cat tucked away in his cloak, stared upwards through at the vast sky. His gaze tracked the spacecraft as it flew, having left a nexus of tangled fate-strings in its wake. 'And so it begins', he thought to himself with a twinkle in his uncovered eyes and a rare grin on his face.

***

[Admiral]

Location: #P786D7G4S002

The gate spat them out a few thousand kilometres from the surface of the planet and, after 3 jumps and several days of travelling, they had finally arrived at their destination. The planet Half-World hung on the screen in front of the Admiral, contently orbiting around its late main-sequence mother star. Ossilia was still in her chambers, having yet to recover from her jump-sickness. The bending of space-time didn't quite sit well with her stomach.

The Admiral had gone over the briefing report sent by Command Centre regarding his temporary post, although it was unusually short. Half-World was a new planet to join the Alliance, its gate only recently connecting to the Network, and not much was known about it. The standard embassies had barely finished being constructed and there was no Alliance station in orbit.

His orders were similarly vague, simply to "ensure continued prosperity for the Alliance", whatever that meant. The convoy sent with him consisted of his newly-issued ship along with 6 refitted freighter-class ships. Not suitable for any sort of space-combat, though the risk level for that was deemed "negligible".

Activating the convoy-wide comms system with the press of a button, the Admiral spoke into the microphone on the dashboard, "Prepare for approach. Standard for neo-Alliance territories: weapons cold, the beacons on and shields up."

Six green lights flashed on the dashboard as all the ships were configured. The Admiral pressed a different button and the AI activated the navigation for descent. They were set to land in the capital city of one of the countries, by the name of Aj-Jutan.

Despite being so new to the galaxy, the indigenous sentient population was human, classed surprisingly as as 1.7, with incredible accomplishments in energy production for a civilisation of their level. The planet itself was quite large for a rocky planet, though not quite so dense meaning gravity remained more-or-less standard.

The convoy soon approached the atmosphere, friction heating the thermal plating of the vessels to many thousands of degrees within seconds. Without warning, the feeds from the viewscreen cut out, showing black and white static in its place. Error signals flashed on the console as the craft began to vibrate ominously.

Reacting quickly, the Admiral addressed the rest of the convoy on the emergency frequency but all he received was static. Abruptly, the shaking of the intensified, inauspicious creaking noises sounding from the metal hull as altitude warnings began blaring from all sides.

400,000 ft

375,000 ft

350,000 ft

Gritting his teeth, the Admiral flicked the override for the autopilot and switched to manual. Changing the viewscreen into transparent view, he finally caught a glimpse of the outside. What was revealed only served to increase his tension.

The craft was free-falling through some sort of storm-system. Furious, grey clouds obscured his view with the occasional flash of lightning providing brief illumination to the darkness. The instruments on the craft that were still functional showed electromagnetic and pressure readings only found in the largest of gas-giants.

'But this still doesn't explain the sudden failure of the autopilot and comms systems. The probability of all the failsafes breaking are infinitesimal', he thought frantically.

150,000 ft

The cold voice of the altitude warning snapped him back to attention. Only a few seconds had passed, yet they had fallen just over 200,000 ft. That speed in of itself made no sense: travelling at nearly 35,000 mph shouldn't be possible in a barely-present atmosphere, let alone one dense enough to support carbon-based life.

Clearing his head of these unnecessary thoughts, the Admiral channelled all the aura in his body as he activated the controls. The emergency afterburners kicked in, decreasing the velocity of the vessel at a rate that had the artificial gravity also malfunctioned, the Admiral would be nothing more than meat paste. The vibration-dampeners, however, were not so lucky to be untouched, the shaking of the vessel under 25g like receiving a massage from a rolling boulder. Only the Admiral's aura-infused flesh saved him from the monstrous forces.

Gritting his teeth, he continued to stabilise the craft until its downward descent gradually plateaued.

35,000 ft

35,000 ft

Altitude stabilised

Altitude stabilised

Hearing this, the Admiral breathed a sigh of relief. The adrenaline and aftereffects of overdrawing his aura reserves in such a short timeframe kicked in as he slumped into his seat like a puppet with its strings cut. His relaxation was cut short, however, as the irregularities in what just happened began to add up.

The unnatural strength of the storm system indicated a failure on the part of the Command Centre, though this could perhaps be forgiven granted the largely-unknown status of the planet. Yet this in of itself was not enough to justify almost synchronised breakdown of his craft's vital functions.

It was not exaggeration to say that if any other were in his place, their likelihood of survival was no doubt severely limited. The only explanation was one he did not want to dwell too long on.

'Perhaps...'

Before he could finish the thought, a blinding flash of light illuminated the transparent window of the craft just before a resounding boom was heard. The countless alarms that had just gone silent restarted their barrage and their trajectory that had just begun to stabilise once again began to drop.

Engine failure, MAYDAY MAYDAY

Engine failure, MAYDAY MAYDAY

The emergency distress beacon of the system was too deeply ingrained in the code to be tampered with, yet even though it activated, no response was heard except static. Just as the ringing in his ears had begun to fade, another blinding light flashed accompanied by a second explosion, sending him violently into the depths of unconsciousness as his vision faded.

*****************************

"Heroes emerge from corners forgotten"

Inscription from tablet -unknown material-/-unknown age-/-unknown origin- discovered in a crystal mine on EC9a87p.

- Stored in Elvish Historical Treasury, Archive File #P786D7G4S831