“So, what do we do now?”

Genvass, Rúna, and Ess Peon looked at one another, each hoping someone else had an answer. It quickly became apparent that none of them did.

“What can we do?” Rúna shrugged. “Your clan leader did an outstanding job of sabotaging the mission,” she told the ambassador. “Pretty much every other race in the galaxy despises us, we are currently prisoners in everything but name aboard this ship, and who knows what other mischief the Dàifu is up to back on New Terra.” She shook her head in defeat. “I’d say our goose is pretty thoroughly cooked.”

“Maybe we should ask the Ixians for asylum,” Genvass said morosely.

“I’m not sure they’d grant it,” Ess Peon chimed in, “not the way things are now. The Paygan made that clear.”

“Then I guess we should just get drunk and watch the galaxy burn,” Rúna said sourly. “Seeing as how we’re out of any other options.”

“I can’t accept that,” Genvass fired back. “There has to be something we can do. Someone we can talk to.”

“What about Samara?” Ess Peon piped up. “It sounds like she’s at least a little sympathetic.”

“Waste of time,” Rúna growled. “Don’t forget for an instant who she is, and what she’s done. She’s a terrorist and an assassin, and that will never change.”

“She also made it clear that she hasn’t given up on their plans to wipe out the Troika,” Genvass reminded them, “though I do think there’s more to her than just a killer.”

“Don’t let that bitch get inside your head again, Genvass,” Rúna warned him. “Everything that comes out of her mouth is a lie.”

“What about Captain Taneka?” Ess Peon suggested. “Her and Captain Hadad have history. Maybe she can talk to him and get him to see reason.”

“I doubt it,” Rúna said dubiously. “They’re colleagues, nothing more. She doesn’t have that kind of leverage with him.”

“And even if she did,” Genvass continued, “getting him to change his mind would be an impossible task. He was perfectly willing to toss me out an airlock once. The only reason he didn’t was his crew flat-out balked at the idea. Thank Terra,” he said as an afterthought.

“Then maybe that’s the angle we should pursue,” Ess Peon mused. “His crew. If we can get one of them on our side…”

“Forget it,” Rúna snapped, interrupting her. “They’re loyal, if a bit squeamish, apparently,” she said, giving the ambassador a look. “You try to suborn one of them, they’ll go straight to Hadad and spill their guts.”

“Well, that’s it then,” Ess Peon sighed. “That’s everyone onboard this ship, and I highly doubt they’d let us near a radio. I suppose we could try to hijack Peacemaker, but I can’t say I like our odds.”

“Even if my marines still had their weapons, it’d be a long shot,” the Valkyrie agreed.

An odd expression suddenly came over the ambassador’s face. “Wait… there’s still someone we haven’t mentioned,” he said in realization.

“Who?” Ess Peon asked him. “I mean, there’s only five people on board besides our own, and we’ve already considered and rejected each one of them.”

“No, there’s six,” Genvass insisted. “You’re forgetting one. Guardian.”

“Guardian? Are you serious?” Rúna said, incredulous. “You think for one second Samara would ever let us talk to him? And even if she did, what makes you think he’d override her, or even just get her to reconsider? It’s crazy.”

“You have any better ideas?” he asked her point blank.

“Well, no,” she admitted, “but that doesn’t automatically make this a good one.”

“Because it’s not,” he agreed. “It’s a plan born of desperation, because we’re out of options.” He gave her a half-hearted shrug. “But let’s face it, desperate plans with a slim chance of success are kind of our bread and butter as a species.”

Rúna and Ess Peon shared a look. “I still say it’s a waste of time,” the Valkyrie said at last, “but why the hell not?”

Once again, the hatch slid open to reveal Samara standing in the corridor. “If we keep making a habit of this, people are going to talk,” she said with a throaty chuckle.

“Could you just for once put your libido in check?” Rúna snapped. “It’s tiresome.”

“I see someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” she snickered. “I could fix that, you know.” She gave the Valkyrie a languid wink, earning a snarl in return.

“Samara, please,” Genvass sighed. “Could we just talk without the games?”

“Well, since you asked nicely,” the Protean chuckled, taking a seat. “What did you want to discuss?”

“Actually, I was hoping to speak with Guardian,” he explained. “Directly.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Oh my, you really are grasping at straws, aren’t you?” She cheerfully regarded the three of them, utterly amused. “It’s really kind of sad when you think about it.”

“Please, we just want to talk to him,” Genvass tried again. “What would it hurt?”

“Not a thing,” she said amiably. “But it’s obvious you don’t know a thing about his kind.”

“We know enough,” Rúna said defiantly.

“Please, it’s important,” Ess Peon chimed in, speaking up for the first time. “We wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Samara sighed, shaking her head. “Certainly,” she agreed, “but I doubt you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

She paused for a moment as something came over her. A subtle shift in posture and body language, a change of facial expression, and suddenly someone else was gazing out at them. “I am Guardian,” she said, though there as well the inflections had been altered. “Why do you wish to speak to me?”

Taking the plunge, Genvass stepped forward. “I realize we haven’t spoken much in the past,” he began, “but I hope you’ll listen to what we have to say. Simply put, we could really use your help.”

She eyed him curiously. “You hope to persuade me in the righteousness of your cause,” he surmised, “and enlist my aid in convincing the others.”

“We do,” Ess Peon agreed.

Guardian/Samara shook her head. “My host was quite correct,” he informed them. “You do not understand my race at all.”

“Blye Tagata has spoken of your people in glowing terms many times,” Genvass said in a rush, “your wisdom, your compassion, and your integrity. If you would be willing to hear us out…”

“You are laboring under a false assumption,” Guardian said, cutting him off. “The entity known as ‘Caretaker’, with whom the Chevalier interacted, was not a member of my race.”

“What?” Rúna interjected, confused. “You’re both Precursors.”

“While we may share a genetic continuity, Caretaker and I are separated by millions of years of cultural development and evolution,” he explained. “They were my distant descendants, and I, their ancient ancestor, but by no means were we the same race. If we were, then Terrans would be considered no different from your early hominids.” She grimaced at that. “Though I admit the analogy is less than flattering, given my place on the timeline.”

“That still makes you far more advanced than we are,” the ambassador responded, gamely forging ahead. “A race that has progressed as much as yours should grasp, even better than we do, the dangers associated with these attacks. If you and the others continue as you have, you could plunge the entire galaxy into war.” He looked at the being that shared Samara’s body, pleading with them. “You can’t want that.”

“While we do not wish war for war’s sake, we believe strongly in protecting our progeny,” Guardian said gravely. “You forget we created the Yīqún to defend our offspring from harm, though we regret deeply the consequences of that decision. When they proved intractable and savage, we tried again, constructing the entity you know as Athena.” She gazed at them, pitiless. “I believe you have witnessed the power of both firsthand.”

“We have,” Genvass said evenly.

“Then you must realize the lengths we will go to in order to preserve our genetic line,” he explained, “for it is a trait that your species also shares. While our discovery of humanity was unexpected, we choose to embrace our shared lineage, continuing our role as mentors and protectors. As my host once pointed out,” he said with a brief smile, “our only other option was to remain within the Repository, unable to interact with the outside world, until the eventual heat death of the universe.”

“I see now where humanity gets its bloodthirsty streak,” the ambassador said in disgust.

“We make no apologies for who and what we are,” Guardian replied. “The fact our children persevered and flourished is proof that our methods were sound. They may seem callous, even savage, but then this universe was not built for the meek. If there is a single, natural law to be found anywhere within this reality, it is this: Only the strong survive.”

Genvass could only watch in dismay as Guardian shredded his arguments, one by one. He shot a desperate look at both Rúna and Ess Peon, but both were as much at a loss as he was. Only now did he realize he’d assumed that Guardian and Caretaker were kindred spirits, despite being well aware of the eons separating them. Humans still weren’t used to thinking on that kind of time scale.

So what was left?

He considered and rejected multiple approaches, each one even less likely to persuade Guardian than the last. The ancient Avatar had witnessed millions of years of history, interacted with countless other hosts, taken part in so many endeavors it beggared the imagination. What could he say to this primeval being, whose philosophy boiled down to “Shoot first and ask questions never”, that might sway him?

“... you say your goal is to protect your genetic line,” Genvass blurted out, as inspiration struck him., “despite Terrans not being your direct descendants.”

“That is correct,” Guardian responded. “While your race is merely an offshoot of ours, one both unplanned and unforeseen, our kinship is undeniable.”

“Then I submit to you, Guardian, that your current actions, and the actions of this crew, place those you have sworn to protect in jeopardy,” he said with sudden conviction. “But it is not too late to correct that error.”

Samara’s eyes narrowed. “Explain your reasoning,” Guardian demanded.

“As your host now realizes, you have been manipulated from the very beginning,” Genvass said in a rush, praying he’d found an opening he could exploit. “My clan leader tricked you into starting this war, for reasons I have yet to uncover. It’s become obvious to me the Dàifu has her own agenda, one that’s pushing humanity into a direct confrontation with the rest of the galaxy. Despite all the advantages your race gave us… well, yours and Caretaker’s, since you insist that you’re two separate species… I don’t see how this ends well for us.”

“As long as humanity remains on Threshold… New Terra, as you call it… you will be safe,” Guardian assured him. “No one has ever breached its defenses.”

“We did,” he reminded the Precursor.

“Only because of our shared genetic heritage,” the Avatar riposted. “No other race can duplicate that achievement.”

“You mean, no other race we know of,” Genvass fired back. “Who’s to say there aren’t other races that share the Precursor gene?”

Guardian froze, considering that. “It seems unlikely,” he decided.

“‘Unlikely’ is not the same as ‘impossible’,” he pointed out. “It’s a big galaxy, and a lot of time has passed since your day. Who knows what other secrets may be hiding out there? There could be other branches of your family tree, just waiting to be discovered. In case it’s slipped your memory, Caretaker as much as hinted at the possibility during their last conversation with Blye.”

Samara’s brow furrowed as Guardian puzzled over the prospect of such an occurrence. “Even if what you say is true,” he said at last, “we will simply come to an accord with them, just as we have with you.”

“Will you now?” Genvass smiled. “And if they refuse?”

“Why should they refuse?” he scoffed. “You didn’t.”

“Because we were desperate, remember?” Genvass said pointedly. “But what if we hadn’t been? Desperate, I mean.”

Samara/Guardian leaned back in their chair, regarding him warily. “What are you suggesting?” he asked.

“Consider this scenario then,” the ambassador proposed. “Another offshoot race, as yet undiscovered, contacts the Alliance, who informs them that everyone hates humans, and for good reason. They learn of New Terra, as well as the advanced technology to be found there. They also learn that only those with the proper genetic sequence can gain access to the system. Their curiosity now aroused, they obtain a sample of Terran DNA… of which there is plenty to be found, thanks to the Troika. They study that sample and learn, to their surprise, they are our long-lost cousins. Now, perhaps, despite what they’ve been told, they come in friendship. That would solve all our problems right there.”

Rúna nodded as she realized where he was headed with this. “But what if they don’t?” she said point blank. “What if they decide to gather their fleets and come in guns blazing instead?”

“Athena would prevent their entrance,” he vowed.

“Are you sure about that?” Genvass fired back. “If they have the correct DNA, why would Athena stop them? You didn’t design her to be an arbiter, after all… just a gatekeeper. What if she steps back and stays out of it entirely? I think that’s the more likely scenario. And if she’s no longer enforcing the barrier, then there’s nothing stopping them from invading New Terra.”

“You would still have access to our technology,” Guardian reminded him. “That would give you an overwhelming advantage.”

“An advantage they could also exploit,” he said simply, “which means an archeological arms race. Whoever grabs the most toys and figures out how to use them wins. Sure, we’ve been at it longer, so we’d have a head start, but that is no guarantee.” He leaned forward, his eyes boring into theirs. “Imagine a war on Threshold, using your weapons. Would there even be anything left when it was all over?”

Guardian stared back at him, an expression of profound disquiet now evident on Samara’s face. He started to speak and then fell silent, then did so again, before finally shaking his head. “You raise an intriguing possibility, but it is mere conjecture. You have no evidence to support the existence of another offshoot race, or that if one existed, that they would be hostile.” He struggled to regain his composure and mostly succeeded. “You spin a fanciful yarn, but that is all it is. A story. A work of fiction, nothing more.”

“You’re right,” Genvass conceded. “I have no proof, just an unsupported theory.” He pointed his finger at Guardian. “But your claim that New Terra is impregnable, that nothing can touch it despite evidence to the contrary, is the very height of arrogance.” He regarded the Precursor placidly. “I see now we not only inherited our bloodthirstiness from your kind… but our hubris as well.”

Samara’s eyes widened as he threw that accusation in her face, yet remained rooted to the spot, seemingly unable to move. Almost a full minute passed before they abruptly jumped to their feet, before stumbling out of the compartment with Guardian still at the reins.

“Holy shit,” Rúna said in awe.

“... I need a drink,” Genvass rasped, before slumping back into his chair.