Deathworlders Should Not Be Allowed To Date! 49

Luna VI query: Set the source to the posthumous memory extraction report of Senator Eelzails of the Core Galaxy Alliance.

Done!

Luna VI query: Narate Eelzails meeting with the high council.

***

The cold, metallic door loomed before Eelzails, a monolithic sentinel that reminded him of his mistake—a failure to escalate the war the humans were fighting. The air was thick with tension, every one of his minds playing scenarios of what would happen inside. His current position was proof enough of his shortcomings; he stood before the entrance that would lead him to the true leadership of the Core Galaxy Alliance. His plan had failed and the humans and the shadowlings were still fine, and now he was here to face the consequences, the base of his antennae pale with dread.

The door opened without a sound, each side parting so slowly that the silence was unnerving. Eelzails didn’t know what to expect; the interior could have been anything—from distinct environments tailored to each of the four founding species to advanced, individually controlled walking spaces. His antennae moved independently, each tracking the movement of one side of the door. When they both reported back an empty interior, a wave of surprise hit him.

He reluctantly took his first step into the cubic room, his antennae scanning in every direction. They found nothing but pristine, polished golden walls reflecting his image from every angle. The sight piqued his curiosity, and he gathered his courage, venturing further until he reached the center of the room. Once there, his antennae became busy, trying to locate the source of the omnipresent light. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, leaving him without a shadow to trace. A soft click echoed behind him as he was focused on this mystery. His antennae whipped back, and he realized the door had closed, sealing him inside this strange space.

Noticing how seamlessly the doors merged into the surrounding walls, forming a single, unbroken expanse of gold, Eelzails felt a surge of panic. Had the High Council decided to imprison him as punishment for his failure? His antennae twitched anxiously as he rushed toward the door, frantically searching for any sign of an opening mechanism. But before he could reach it, the lights shifted, and the room was plunged into darkness, save for four opaque openings near the ceiling that cast an eerie glow, towering over him like prison windows. The room, once pristine, now felt like a trap—a place where the unknown awaited.

Before he could scream or attempt to use any equipment to communicate with the outside, dark silhouettes emerged in the highest parts of the opaque walls. His antennae, each aimed at a different ominous shape, swept the area in synchronized vigilance. Then, his attention locked onto one shadow above the door—a form too familiar to mistake. It was unmistakably a Rumi, the outline of his own species.

"Eelzails, do you know why we summoned you to a core world for a meeting?" The voice that followed was one he had heard before—calm yet authoritative. It belonged to the current representative of his species on the High Council, a figure whose name remained a closely guarded secret, even from a senator like him.

"Because I failed my task." Eelzails felt so cornered that making excuses didn’t even cross his mind.

"Your failure?" The voice responded, tinged with disappointment. "No, Eelzails, this is not about your failure alone. The entire Alliance has faltered. The task of creating a war among the humans was never just yours—it was ours. We all share the blame for what has transpired. Now, we must decide how to move forward, together, just as we did at the dawn of this alliance when we first suppressed the deathworlders’ violence."

Eelzails was speechless, but inside, his minds raced. Sharing the blame was typical of the Rumi, yet if this meeting mirrored the dynamics of the parliament, things could quickly turn ugly. One of his antennae swept over the dark silhouettes, focusing on one that resembled an Asaidian. His other antenna joined in, both now bent in a defensive posture as he braced himself for the inevitable admonishment.

"Is this how little trust you have in the current Asaidians?" The shadows shifted, and Eelzails discerned that the Asaidian was speaking. "Exaggerated pride is indeed a flaw of this generation, but such cultural tides ebb and flow with time. We are one Alliance, and I stand by the Rumi. We share the blame and move forward, together."

A third shadow, elongated and segmented, moved gracefully along the wall. It belonged to a centipede-like being, each of its countless legs rippling in synchronized motion. The creature's voice emerged a low, resonant hum that filled the room. "The Rumi and Asaidians speak wisely. We must not let the errors of the past divide us. Together, we will overcome the deathworlders, just as we have always done."

By appearance alone, Eelzails recognized the unique species that the voice belonged to, the Anziell. This species, despite its high status within the Alliance, rarely appeared in public, as their unsettling appearance was often poorly received by bipedal beings, including deathworlders. Yet, despite these peculiarities, the spirit of unity he encountered here in the High Council was astonishing—something he could never have imagined.

His antennae shifted toward the final wall, the one opposite the door. He anticipated seeing the shadows of the most reclusive species in the Alliance for the first time: the legendary Tiseall, the first species in the galaxy to have reached the stars millions of standard cycles into the past.

Eelzails waited, his antennae aimed at the wall opposite the door, but no voice emerged, nor did any shadow appear. He wasn’t entirely surprised; it seemed fitting that such an ancient and enigmatic species might choose not to attend. It was a reasonable assumption—one that was about to be shattered.

"Most senators aren’t aware of this," the Rumi’s voice broke the silence, calm yet heavy with revelation, "but the Tiseall have been extinct for some time, Eelzails." As he spoke, the shadow of the Rumi moved behind the opaque wall, its antennae twitching with a blend of solemnity and sadness. The slow motion of the antennae mirrored the weight of the news, as if they, too, bore the burden of this ancient secret finally coming to light.

"This... shouldn’t be possible." Eelzails struggled to process the revelation, his emotions spiraling beyond his comprehension. How could he have failed and yet be entrusted with such privileged information? Even more shocking was the idea that the Tiseall, the oldest and most revered species in the galaxy, had gone extinct. How had they managed to keep this secret from the entire Alliance? His minds wrestled with the implications, refusing to accept what seemed impossible.

"Unfortunately, it is true." The Rumi representative’s shadow halted in front of the opaque wall, his antennae lowering toward Eelzails. "We summoned you here to discuss what happened on Irisa, but I believe you should first hear about the demise of the Tiseall. All in favor of revealing this?"

"Yes." The response came in unison, so perfectly synchronized it sounded almost mechanical. Eelzails was still grappling with the revelation when the Rumi continued.

"How much do you know about the galaxy before the Alliance, Eelzails?"

"The same as the other Senators," Eelzails replied. "Deathworlders were raiding our planets when we were divided, then the four founding species united to face the threat, won the war, and created the Alliance that has endured for thousands of standard cycles."

The shadow of the Rumi began to pace back and forth, as if agitated. "That is true, but only part of it. Do you know what is the biggest difference between us and the deathworlders?"

"Their harsh planets made them overcompetitive and prone to violence." To the common member of the Alliance, beings with claws, fangs, or forward-facing eyes were often referred to as deathworlders. The scholars, enthusiasts, and senators, on the other hand, often used a clarification as intended, based on the harshness of their environment to classify the deathworlders, a clarification that had Irisa as the benchmark for the harshest possible environment that could sustain sapient life.

The shadow of the Rumi stopped and turned its antennae toward him. "It's much more profound than that, Eelzails. While we gaze at the vastness of the stars and wonder about our purpose, deathworlders look to the stars and wonder why everything is so empty. They are incapable of self-reflection and cannot accept this emptiness. This happens because, deep down, they know they wouldn't leave a single star shining in the night if given the chance. If not contained, deathworlders would conquer the galaxy, leaving no room for other species to evolve."

"This..." Eelzails had never considered this particular problem. To him, his actions were always intended to contain violence and prevent harm against the civilized species. "How is this connected to the extinction of the Tiseall?"

The shadow of the Asaidian spoke first, voice heavy with sorrow. "The Tiseall were the most advanced species of the early Alliance. Their technology was so far ahead that they took it upon themselves to contain the deathworlders. At first, they succeeded—they dismantled the leadership of the deathworlders, making them incapable of the large-scale cooperation needed for scientific advancement. We believed the problem was solved and grew complacent, dreaming of a future where we could engineer their violence out of them and live in a galaxy of peace."

Eelzails' antennae turned to the left as the Anziell representative continued. "But despite their advancements, the Tiseall couldn't foresee everything. A single deathworlder, driven by revenge, infiltrated their homeworld aboard a cargo ship, carrying a tiny container of water. She was swiftly neutralized, but not before she released the water into a river—water teeming with billions of organisms that had evolved on a world where competition, not cooperation, was the rule of life."

Eelzails remained silent, his minds grappling with the unimaginable devastation a biological attack could inflict on an entire planet.

The shadow of the Rumi moved closer to the opaque wall, his voice heavy with sorrow. "In just a few revolutions around their star, their world was irrevocably altered. The oceans changed color, the climate shifted violently, and local life perished by the millions at every level of the food chain. Our scientists scrambled for a solution, but our knowledge of the microscopic world was still lacking. All we could do was watch as their world collapsed, and the survivors fled. Their colonies held on for a time, but the deathworlders hadn’t forgotten them—they were hunted down and destroyed while they were still vulnerable."

The shadows of the Rumi, Asaidian, and Anziell remained motionless, each standing close to their respective opaque walls. Eelzails felt a storm within him, struggling to reconcile the story he’d just heard with the history as he knew it. But one burning question demanded an answer. "How... how isn’t the demise of the Tiseall known to the entire Alliance? They are seen as an active species with a vote in the parliament."

He waited for a response, but silence hung heavy in the air. Then, the lights shifted again. The once-opaque openings that allowed faint light to pass through now became completely transparent, revealing the true forms of the Rumi, Asaidian, and Anziell. The polished metal walls now featured three isolated alcoves near the ceiling, and for the first time, Eelzails could see the intricate details of the High Council members.

"Eelzails, you are about to learn the greatest secret of the Alliance. Are you prepared to bear this burden?" The Rumi, no longer just a silhouette, appeared younger than Eelzails had imagined, his robes pristine, and his emerald antennae radiating with vibrant color.

Eelzails’ antennae swept over the room, taking in the glittering crystals adorning the Asaidian and the strange, insectoid body of the Anziell. With a respectful gesture, he intertwined his antennae and replied, "I am prepared."

"After the Tiseall’s catastrophic fall, we were forced into hiding," the Rumi began, his voice heavy with the weight of past failures. "Though we hadn’t mastered the microscopic world enough to save their species, we learned enough to create the first version of our translator—a device that rooted itself in the brain like a parasite but could think like a computer."

"We introduced the translators as a useful tool," the Asaidian added. "Initially, they were free and easily removable, a gesture that won the trust of some deathworlders. Over time, nearly every species had at least a few individuals using the translators, unaware that we were collecting data, patiently preparing for the right moment."

"You may think you understand the extent of the information we gather, Eelzails," the Anziell continued the Asaidian's explanation, "but you have no idea how far our capabilities reach. Just as we collect data, we can also send instructions back through the network. We can program the translators to grow, to replicate, spreading their seed with every breath the host takes. Under the whims of our command, every member of a species would carry a translator, even if they never chose to have one."

"I… think understand how no one misses the Tiseall." Eelzails’ minds raced, each one straining to piece together the horrifying implications of what he had just heard. The truth hit him like a physical blow, his antennae twitching uncontrollably, betraying the shock surging through his system. His voice erupted in a frantic rush, words tumbling out almost maniacally, "You’ve been editing the collective memories of entire species with a single command! The parliament, our decisions—it’s all a charade! The deathworlders’ wars, their complaints, their ambitions: they’re meaningless, just like our own! None of it matters!"

"We have never used this power for personal gain," the Rumi explained, his voice steady yet tinged with a sadness that was hard to ignore. "This device has preserved peace in the galaxy for millions of standard cycles, Eelzails."

"Millions of cycles?" The truth struck him like ice in his veins. "All of us believe the Alliance is only a few thousand cycles old. What else can I trust after learning this? Perhaps even the history of the Rumi has been rewritten. Everything we teach our hatchlings could be nothing more than an illusion."

The Asaidian spoke in a soothing tone, his voice calm and reassuring. "That is not something for you to worry about, young Rumi. The last use of collective memory injection dates back to the period you believe to be the beginning of the Alliance. Your life and the history you know are real and full of purpose."

The Anziell added, their voice gentle yet firm. "Your memories have never been altered, Eelzails. There are over a hundred members on the High Council, and no large-scale commands can be issued without the unanimous consent of every single member."

Eelzails' concern hadn't diminished, but he slowly managed to regain his composure. The way the representatives spoke hinted at a lifespan far beyond what he could comprehend—perhaps they were immortal beings who had ruled the galaxy for eons. The secrets he'd just learned were far greater than anything he'd expected when he stepped into this strange room, bracing himself for punishment. Yet, despite everything, he still didn’t know the real purpose of this meeting. And he was beginning to fear he might regret asking. "Why was I told all of this?"

For the first time, he noticed the representatives exchanging glances, the movement of the Rumi's antennae betraying concern. That same concern was evident in his voice when he finally spoke. "Something happened on the Shadowlings' planet today, Eelzails, something concerning."

He was taken aback. What could individuals with such power possibly find concerning? The thought alone made his antennae tremble. "What happened?"

The Asaidian answered. "No data was collected by the translators on the Shadowlings' brains today."

Eelzails didn't grasp the gravity of the situation. "Couldn’t it be that none of them left the planet today for the data packages to be conveyed to us?"

The Anziell provided the missing piece. "It wasn’t just the translators, Eelzails. The chips in their weapons, the backdoors in their computers, the spy devices in their communication equipment: millions of pieces of technology went silent all at once."

His thoughts raced to the most logical conclusion. "Could it be that... their star went nova?"

"We considered that," the Rumi representative said, leaning against the transparent window, "but the planet is still there, and so is the star. This can only be an act of war by the humans, or perhaps a warning. We have no way of knowing."

Eelzails' antennae stiffened, and for the first time since becoming a senator, he felt completely out of his depth, as if this conversation was far beyond anything he could contribute to. "I... still don't understand why I'm here," he admitted, struggling to comprehend why the humans would make such a bold move now, of all times.

"We fear the humans, Eelzails," the Rumi said. "You have the clearest understanding of the situation on the surface. We need your help. A team of Shadowlings must be sent to their homeworld to gather information, and when the moment comes, we must be ready to act. If you succeed, you'll earn a seat on this council and come to understand the full weight of the responsibility we carry."

***

This was an account based on Eelzails' meeting with the high council. The previous narrative is based on the events of the forty-eighth day of the exploratory mission of Irisa. According to your current settings, no queries will be suggested.