Ad Astra Per Aspera [IXION / Star Trek: The Next Generation]

[Quacking duck]

Jean-Luc Picard took a moment to assess the man who shuffled into the meeting room.

The man was in a poor way. Beyond his general dishevelment, the man looked to be on the verge of collapsing. Large, dark eye bags hung under bloodshot eyes, which squinted at him and the rest of Enterprise's crew from behind a pair of archaic vision-correcting spectacles.

His face was pale, his gait was uneven, and his hair showed signs of early greying, uncharacteristic of his actual age.

He wore a crumpled, aged jumpsuit. What must've been a once-vibrant purple had become stained and discoloured. Numerous patches had been sewn into the suit, ostensibly to keep it alive for a little while longer.

As the man sat down, he reached for the glass of water on the desk with shaking fingers. His grip was a little too hard, reactions a little delayed. But there was something behind that scowling visage. Steel. A grim determination looked back at him.

"Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Administrator…?" Picard started. The crew of the other ship – Tiqqun – hadn't known much about this man. Not an image, or even a name. Some of them apparently didn't even believe that this man was real. But many in that ship held deep respect for the man, as Troi had reported earlier. Respect that bordered on worship.

One of the crew of a smaller science vessel, Stanford, that'd been liaising with Enterprise had even off-handedly mentioned a willingness to follow the Administrator into Hell itself, though that crew had been remarkably reticent on most other topics.

Topics like: who was the Administrator, what was the Tiqqun, and what had he done to earn such admiration?

The man blinked at him for a few moments too long. "Right," the man rasped, then cleared his throat. "Sorry," he said again, more clearly. His voice remained uneven, "I haven't…I haven't talked to another human being in…must be five years now."

The man paused, thinking. He took a sip, exhaled deeply, then spoke. "I am Administrator Hong Rui Jie, appointed leader of DOLOS VVS-class ship, Tiqqun. Captain Picard, I…" The man swallowed, as his eyes swept across the room, lingering on Worf a moment too long.

He took a breath. Then, that steel reasserted itself. A resolve entered his posture, which straightened ever-so-slightly.

"Captain Picard. Before I communicate with you further. I must know two things." Hong leaned in, something fiery burning behind his tired eyes. "Is your ship, and is your crew affiliated with the United Nations in any way? Does the name –" Hong spat the next word like a dirty slur, "– Etemenanki mean anything to you?"

Picard cogitated for a moment. "No to both," he replied. "For the first, well, the United Nations has been long dissolved. Some members of my crew – myself included – are citizens of United Earth, a successor organisation."

Hong seemed to hesitate. "United Earth, you say? What is the status of Earth?"

"Well, it is still there, as far as I know," Picard said with a mildly joking tone. "I was born there, myself."

"So was I, Captain," the man said wistfully, before returning to his usual grim self. "I should elaborate on Tiqqun's situation. I, and the crew of Tiqqun, have purposely been oblique regarding this with you. Standard operating procedure for station security. But I'm far from any authority or reason to enforce those SOPs any longer."

Data suddenly spoke. "Excuse me, Administrator Hong," he interjected. "You mentioned the Etemenanki? I presume that you are not referring to the ziggurat constructed in ancient Babylon?"

Hong nodded. Pain and hate flashed across his face, before his steely demeanour reasserted itself. "I did. And yes. That is not what I was referring to." He took a steadying breath. "No, Etemenanki was nothing so benign. It was…" Hong seemed at a loss of what to say.

"Never mind," he sighed. "I will elaborate on what it was, when I get to it."

Hong stood up and began to pace. "Five standard Earth years ago, Tiqqun was launched by the DOLOS Corporation for its shakedown cruise to Proxima Centauri." His pacing became agitated. "It was fitted with the VOHLE engine, an experimental device for faster-than-light travel…and the first of its kind, as far as I know."

He turned back to his chair and gripped its backrest. Picard saw his knuckles turn white. "After preparations were made, we transited to the Moon, and got ready for our first jump. We activated the VOHLE engine as ordered, and…" Hong clenched his jaw. Was that guilt? "Everything went wrong."

"Later investigation showed that Tiqqun's systems for calculating VOHLE jump coordinates showed signs of tampering. By who, it is impossible to know now. And the result?" Hong seemed to struggle for words, before sighing. "There is no good way to say this. The jump screwed up."

"We blew up the Moon."

Silence. An uneasy pall hung over the room. Picard felt his breath hitch. He didn't dare imagine the ecological fallout that would have ensued.

Data broke the silence. "Administrator. I do not mean to make light of your experiences. However, there are no records of what you have said. There are numerous discrepancies with known history. Most obviously, the Moon remains intact over Earth."

Hong nodded. He pulled the chair back and sat back down. "As I suspected. By your reactions, what I have observed of Enterprise, and the historical documents you have previously transmitted. I can confirm that Tiqqun and its crew are of a different worldline. It is a quirk of VOHLE-type FTL devices. They are…unpredictable, and not fully understood." He shook his head. "Stanford and Fraüs were brilliant. But VOHLE is simply not mature."

Picard leaned in, pulse quickening. An alternate timeline? If Tiqqun, a run-down and damaged vessel could transit between dimensions, then…

Hong sighed. "But I get ahead of myself. To make a long story short: Tiqqun did not transit to Proxima Centauri as expected, but rather, we jumped to the far future of the Solar System. More than a century, by the guesses of my best experts.

Earth's biosphere had been ruined by the Lunaclysm – that's what the Moon's destruction was called. You can imagine what followed. War. Famine. Pestilence. Then…death." Hong's words cut through the room like a hot poker through snow. Everyone's eyes were on him, now.

"We did not stay in Sol. There was nothing for us there. Tiqqun was never meant for this. We would've never been able to survive long-term. But we got lucky. We salvaged another VOHLE-type engine, IXION, then followed in the FTL wake of other human ships in hope of finding a habitable exoplanet. Tiqqun can't calculate its own FTL jumps. But we can follow in the jumps of other craft."

Picard did not need to hear any more to guess at what had happened. "You've travelled a long way, haven't you, Administrator?" Picard asked gently. "You and your crew have suffered much." The Administrator's mien was telling. This was a man who had seen his world die. This was a man who had borne five thousand souls' worth of burdens on his own two shoulders.

Hong nodded. "That we did. But my account of it is for another day. How Tiqqun got here to meet you is a long story, and my crew have more pressing needs." Hong steadied himself, adjusted his eyeglasses, and then fixed Picard with an unflinching, adamant stare.

"Captain Picard," he started. His speech had taken on a familiar tone to everyone in the room, especially Picard himself.

Authority.

Picard felt solidarity with him – almost kinship. This was a man who had been placed in difficult waters, and forced to make hard choices. Who else aboard Enterprise could say that they had done similarly?

"I, Administrator Hong Rui Jie, last remaining human authority of DOLOS Corporation and the commander of the Tiqqun station." He stumbled over his words. Emotions – too complex and entangled to parse – filled his voice.

"I do declare of my own free will: that Tiqqun and her crew place themselves under the protection and asylum of the United Federation of Planets."

Picard did not answer at once. He rose from his seat with gravitas as he regarded Hong Rui Jie with deliberation.

"Administrator Hong," Picard said at last, his voice steady but carrying the full weight of his station, "Under the laws and conventions of the United Federation of Planets, a formal request for asylum must be evaluated by the commanding officer of the receiving vessel, pending review by appropriate Federation authorities."

He held Hong's gaze.

"As captain of the Enterprise, I acknowledge your declaration. Until such time as the Federation Council rules otherwise, you, your crew, and the station Tiqqun will be regarded as persons under Federation protection."

A brief pause.

"You will not be turned away."

Spoiler: A/N

Just finished IXION for the first time. What an experience it was. Far from perfect, I certainly enjoyed myself. It helped to scratch that Battlestar Galactica itch.

 

[Quacking duck]

"...but at this moment, Captain Picard, Tiqqun does not need much. DOLOS is guilty of many sins, but at least they'd designed my station to produce all the things needed for human survival."

Captain Picard nodded. He felt slightly odd, talking to a blank wall on Enterprise's command deck, but Tiqqun's technology was decidedly too foreign to stream video to Enterprise. Their computers used entirely different communication protocols. Wireless communications between the two vessels had been restricted solely to audio over a mundane radio channel.

Not that it would have mattered anyway, even if the two vessels had compatible technology. Much of Tiqqun's more advanced systems had been inoperable since the crew put the governing AI, EDDEN, on lockout. Progress was being made to restore station functions, but it was slow-going.

Nevertheless, Picard put on his best mien whenever Administrator Hong got onto the horn. It helped set the tone, and put him in the right mindset.

"The only thing my crew really need is social contact and stimuli. The entertainment package transmitted over two days ago really helped on that part. And thus ends my report," Hong's tinny voice came over the PA. Hong sounded vaguely upbeat, a world's difference from the dull, almost angry drawl that he'd used during first contact.

Picard straightened in his command chair. "Administrator Hong, that is good to hear. On my part, the Federation Council has heard your request for asylum and approved it. Another Starfleet vessel, Erudite, will be coming in to assist."

Though he couldn't see Hong, Picard knew that the beleaguered commander was sagging in relief. "That's amazing news, Captain! Fantastic, I'll be making an announcement later. There's likely to be a station-wide celebration in response. Of course, Enterprise's crew will be welcome aboard Tiqqun." Hong's grin was audible in his voice. "Of course, the food isn't the best – engineered algae, moonshine, and reconstituted insect products are the best we can offer."

Picard smiled, a warm feeling in his stomach. It was moments like these that he lived for: contacting new cultures, and helping them. It made all the difficult parts of being Captain worthwhile. Even the paperwork.

Especially the paperwork, Picard thought darkly.

"I'll see which of my crew will be willing. Now, I believe that two of my crew have something to say." Picard glanced at Geordi and Data, then motioned for them to speak. Geordi and Data shared a look, before Geordi toggled something on his console and leaned in.

"Administrator Hong?" Geordi spoke up first. "I'm Lieutenant Commander La Forge. I'm the Chief Engineer of the Enterprise. I've been working with Lieutenant Commander Data in the analysis of faster-than-light options for Tiqqun."

"Ah, I do remember receiving some crew from Enterprise to inspect my station a few days ago. You sound familiar, were you the fellow with the ocular implant?" Hong asked.

"Yes, Administrator, I was." Geordi grinned. Then, his expression turned business-like. "Now, if you'd let me, I have some bad news."

There was a pause. "Let's hear it," Hong sighed.

"Simply put, we don't believe that Tiqqun can jump safely under its own power, regardless of any modification we make." Geordi delicately chose his words. "Firstly, I think I speak for everyone when I say that letting Tiqqun attempt another VOHLE jump is a mistake. Self-Similar Space, Fraüs Tachyons…there is simply too much we don't know."

A murmur of agreement rippled across the bridge before Picard silenced it with a stern glare. He kept a neutral expression, but inwardly, Picard agreed wholeheartedly.

He'd read the mission logs from Tiqqun in full. Enterprise had encountered very unusual things in the Alpha Quadrant, but some of what Tiqqun had recorded easily rivaled the strangest Enterprise had logged. Records, some whispered, that suggested something far worse than simple misfortune.

A derelict VVS-class station, its serials identical with Tiqqun's. The crew recovered from its emergency cryopods were identical, down to gene and memory, with certain personnel on Tiqqun.

Liquid-metal spheres that hovered without propulsion, swallowing anything that approached.

A 1950s-style American suburban house sat on a planet that had never known human life. The crew of the science ship Artificial Sky had wisely hesitated to explore further. One glimpse inside was enough to reveal it was impossibly larger than its exterior, a space that seemed to defy reason itself.

The sudden appearance of the science ship Nobel – its crew adamant that they had always served aboard Tiqqun, though no records of ship or crew existed – in place of the missing Stanford. Later in its voyage, Tiqqun found Stanford drifting in a debris field, its original crew alive and in cryoasleep, with no memory of ever leaving.

And a lost scientist, discovered hundreds of light-years away – on a different planet entirely – reduced to a colossal, kilometres-long corpse that predated human civilisation itself.

The only common thread had been the presence of Fraüs Tachyons in every anomaly: a known byproduct of VOHLE engines accessing Self-Similar Space.

If this was what VOHLE left in its wake, then Geordi was right. Tiqqun could not be allowed to jump again.

And of course, that wasn't even mentioning the biggest anomaly of them all: Tiqqun breaching the space between realities to find itself in Enterprise's.

It was a common grouse of Administrator Hong during dinners with the Enterprise command team that DOLOS was insane for equipping a vessel with technology that no-one really comprehended.

From the PA came a noise of agreement. "I concur with Mr. La Forge. If my station jumped, who knows where we'd end up?" Hong scoffed. "I'd have to be really stupid to do something that'd cut me off from the Federation. Not when we've finally found a safe harbour."

"Yes, sir. Next, I'm sorry to say this, but…" Geordi took a breath. "Tiqqun's hull is in a bad way, Administrator."

"I already knew that," Hong replied curtly. "My engineers aren't Starfleet-grade but they're damned good. Tiqqun has two VOHLE jumps left in her, tops, before her back breaks."

Geordi moved to reply, but Data toggled something on his console and cut in. "Administrator, I believe Lieutenant Commander La Forge does not question the capability of your crew. But our analysis shows that Tiqqun is unlikely to survive any FTL jump using a Starfleet Warp engine. Even towing would disintegrate it, or worse."

There was another pause. "Sorry," Hong finally replied, softening. "I didn't mean to yell. Just defending my crew, Mr. La Forge."

"You didn't yell, Administrator," Geordi said. He nodded at Data in gratitude. "But Data is right. Tiqqun isn't optimised in the slightest for Warp travel. Its hull is the wrong shape, it can't store or generate enough power, and that hull damage would only exacerbate the stresses of Warp travel."

Administrator Hong sighed. "I understand. It means that my crew would have to evacuate." His voice had lost its good cheer from earlier. "I knew this was coming. In my bones, I somehow already knew. Just…don't abandon the old girl, okay?"

"We don't plan to, Administrator," Data smoothly said. "IXION is too precious. In our reality, it is one-of-a-kind. Self-Similar Space, Fraüs Tachyons – these and more are completely new fields of science."

Picard cleared his throat. "Thank you, Data," he said, interrupting any further technical debate. "Now then, Mr. Hong, we have some administrative issues to settle regarding your station's claim for asylum. Paperwork, as it were."

Hong harrumphed. "I'll never escape paperwork," he said faux-sadly.

"Nobody does," Picard replied wryly. "I'll send a shuttle –"

A klaxon blared, cutting him off. Crew at their duty stations snapped to attention, fingers flying across consoles as trained instincts kicked into action.

"Sir! A new ship has entered the system opposite us. Putting it on-screen now!"

The viewscreen turned on, revealing the interloper.

Long, sleek, and angular, it emerged from the void. Orange light pulsed, heart-like, between its upper and lower "jaws," and four antennas jutted from its aft. A crewman barked out a report of spikes in Fraüs Tachyons.

Picard rose from his chair, jaw tight, eyes narrowing.

"Sir, we've identified the vessel! It's the –"

"It's the Piranesi," growled Administrator Hong.

An oily, atavistic chuckle echoed over the comms, layered and wet, as if something vast were laughing through a mangled human throat.

"There you are, Administrator," came a voice, dark and eager.

The orange light flared in sick delight.

"I see your station…and your new friend." Its voice took on a mocking, hissing lilt on friend.

"How generous of you, to fill my plate. Flesh, metal, soul. All for me!" Its voice distorted, twisted, and stretched. "Make ready for digestion."

---

A/N: This is what Piranesi's AI sounds like for reference.


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2igtURKohm0&pp=ygUOcGlyYW5lc2kgaXhpb27SBwkJOgoBhyohjO8%3D

 

[Quacking duck]

Spoiler: Note

This was originally one mega chapter, until I realised that cramming 5k words is a bad idea for reader ability to digest what I write.

---

"– fucking impossible. How is that sonnuvabitch still alive?!"

That was the first thing Picard heard as he entered the meeting room with Enterprise's senior officers. The speaker – an enraged woman in an off-white jumpsuit bearing a Tiqqun shoulder patch – whirled at his entry, flushed red, and stiffly reclaimed her seat without another word.

The room was heavy with dread so thick that Picard could almost taste it. Around the table, Tiqqun's command staff showed a full spectrum of unease: tight frowns, simmering anger, and hollow, shell-shocked stares. One officer wore a look of open terror.

At the head of the table sat Hong Rui Jie, unmoving, his emotions locked away behind steepled fingers.

He looked up at Picard's arrival and nodded curtly. He gestured for Enterprise's senior staff to sit, then rose and walked to a console. Once everyone was settled, he toggled it.

The unmistakable shape of the Piranesi's sleek, predatory hull filled the LCARS display.

"Captain Picard. Ladies and gentlemen," Hong began. "The Piranesi is currently maintaining a passive drift vector toward this position. That will not last. So let's begin before NARAKA grows impatient." Hong's authoritative voice sliced through the room.

He held himself rigid, shoulders squared, eyes burning with an unwavering glare. The tired, overworked bureaucrat that Picard had come to know was gone. In his place was a soldier going to war.

Hong's eyes swept the room. "This is the Piranesi. Former flagship of the defunct Black Market Society. Helmed by the artificial intelligence NARAKA." His glare hardened. "It is the most advanced spacecraft ever launched by humans in our reality."

He faced the Enterprise crew. "To put it in terms that you can understand: if Tiqqun is ENIAC, then Piranesi is your isolinear computer core. That is the technological gulf I speak of."

He paused. Something complicated flashed on his face, then left as quickly as it'd arrived.

"I regret not disclosing its details sooner. During our last encounter, we believed that we had destroyed it – or at the very least, crippled it beyond repair. We were mistaken."

Worf leaned forward. "What weapons does it possess?" he asked gravely. "And how was it previously neutralised?"

And is it a threat to the Enterprise? Hung in the air, unspoken.

Hong turned to one of his officers, an Asian man in a blue jumpsuit. The man met Hong's look, nodded and stood. "Officers," he greeted. "I'm Williard Lee, Senior Surveillance Officer."

He glanced around the room, then cleared his throat. "The full extent of what Piranesi is armed with remains unclear to us. We have never met it at full operational capacity; what follows is partial data."

He visibly swallowed. "Of primary concern is its spinal cannon. Based on projected output, it is capable of damaging – or destroying – the Enterprise."

A ripple of tension moved through the Starfleet officers. Even Data seemed to frown slightly, though that might've been a trick of the light. Picard kept his expression remained carefully neutral, though his attention was immediately sharpened.

"The weapon emits an exotic particle beam or energy wave," Lee continued. "Our understanding of its emissions are incomplete. Some models predict it to be gluonic in nature. However, we do know of its effects on hard targets."

The LCARS shifted to show the drifting wreck of a gargantuan spacecraft in a debris field, so large it appeared to be a planetoid at first glance. Tiqqun was barely visible in the image, dwarfed by the wreck which loomed in the background. Picard carefully noted that the wreck appeared even larger than Enterprise.

"In its last recorded use, it bisected the UNSS Etemenanki, the United Nations' most advanced spaceship, in a single shot. The emission overpenetrated its hull, and continued on to compress a gas giant into a terrestrial-mass body. The planet was then displaced into an outer orbit."

Silence. Despite himself, Picard felt his stomach lurch. An intrusive image formed in his mind, unbidden, and was firmly pushed aside. He gave a quick glance to his officers.

Riker's jaw was clenched, and he ran a hand through his hair. Worf's hands flexed, his posture rigid with barely contained tension. Troi's eyes were widened, and she let out a soft, barely-audible intake of breath. Geordi tapped a finger on the table, lips pursed. Crusher's expression tightened. Even Data's head tilted slightly, the subtle stiffness in his shoulders betraying the gravity of the report.

Picard turned back to the Surveillance Officer.

"Firing the cannon places extreme strain on the Piranesi," Lee evenly said. "After destroying Etemenanki, the vessel entered a dormant state in the CRUC system for Tiqqun to stumble upon. We never observed a second discharge."

Lee took a sip from a flask in his jumpsuit. He continued, "To neutralise it, the science ship Abyss used a modified Icarus III probe to trigger a violent emission event from the pulsar of the CRUC system. Tiqqun barely survived, and Abyss was lost with all hands."

Sorrow flashed across the faces of Tiqqun's crew. "But it stopped Piranesi dead in its tracks. Boarding teams reported heavy internal damage. Analysis by EDDEN at the time predicted that Piranesi was on the verge of collapse, so we did not stay to collect more data. A mistake, in hindsight."

"Though we do not have concrete evidence, it is highly probable that the cannon was further degraded by the pulsar event." He hesitated. "We assess its use as…unlikely."

"'Unlikely', Mr. Lee, is not the same as 'impossible.'" Picard calmly said.

Lee grimaced. "No, Captain. It is not."

Riker's eyes lingered on the LCARS readout. "Even a quarter-strength emission would still be catastrophic." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Then we must assume that the cannon remains operational," Picard said firmly.

Hong gave a subtle nod. "All post-impact phenomena associated with the spinal cannon are included in the scientific data packages we transmitted, filed under CRUC."

Picard inclined his head once. "Mr. Data, have our analysts review it immediately."

"Aye, sir," Data replied crisply, tapping at his PADD.

 

[Quacking duck]

"Secondary armaments?" Riker queried.

Lee met the eyes of the woman in the off-white jumpsuit, then at Administrator Hong. Hong wordlessly nodded, and Lee sat. The woman stood.

"Alina ter Meer," she said briskly. "Director of Research, Sector 6's Science Union. I've prepared an analysis."

Picard noted that her earlier anger still simmered beneath the surface, barely contained. Her nostrils flared slightly as she exhaled, and the faint crease between her brows deepened with each word. Tension coiled her shoulders and her fingers drummed a subtle, restless rhythm on the PADD.

"Known secondary armaments: a drone swarm, missile launchers, and an EWAR suite."

The LCARS display shifted to show detailed cutaways of a missile.

"The missiles' warheads are variable; Piranesi previously deployed nuclear-tipped missiles against the Etemenanki. But against us, only conventional warheads were used. Why this discrepancy? We do not know."

Geordi raised a hand. "Piranesi went dormant after destroying Etemenanki. Perhaps it hadn't replenished nuclear stockpiles when it confronted Tiqqun."

Administrator Hong frowned. "Something to consider for later. Director, please continue."

Ter Meer nodded. "The missile systems, while potentially damaging, are definitely the lesser threat. Missile guidance is primitive." Her lip curled in disdain.

Recordings played onscreen, showing missile launches against Tiqqun in the CRUC system. Their intercept trajectories were highlighted in yellow.

"Records show that guidance appears limited to basic PRONAV. A dissection of an unexploded missile recovered from Etemenanki's wreck confirms this: the guidance package is unsophisticated and lacks AI augmentation."

"Effective range extends across a star system, though velocity is negligible compared to Enterprise's torpedoes. Basic human response times are sufficient to deploy countermeasures."

She paused, allowing the officers a moment to absorb the assessment. "Tiqqun has successfully developed highly effective countermeasures in the past. Schematics should be available for replication; production should not pose any significant difficulty."

The LCARS shifted to show a single drone, dismantled at a researcher's workbench. Ter Meer's face darkened. "The drones…are a bigger problem."

"The drones are enormously destructive and are released in swarms of extreme scale – large enough to enact an interdiction over an entire planet's orbit. Each is about five meters in length and armed with an enormously powerful cutting laser. Exact figures for the laser are unknown, as no intact unit has ever been recovered, but post-mortem analyses of Etemenanki's wreck are discouraging."

She gave a pointed stare. "I would not underestimate their ability to breach Enterprise's hull." Ter Meer continued, her tone precise. "If hull breaches were to occur, the drones will extract anything valuable: computers, databases, research samples…and crew."

Picard's gaze swept Tiqqun's officers; he noted their pale, nauseated expressions. Whatever these drones did to people, it was likely unpleasant and terminal.

Ter Meer continued. "Man-portable weapons available to Starfleet, such as your phasers, should be more effective than those currently deployed by Tiqqun forces, though data on that aspect is limited."

Riker leaned forward, half-smile forming. "Enterprise is equipped with deflector shields. Piranesi's drones may not penetrate them as easily as you expect."

A flicker of surprise crossed Ter Meer's face – barely perceptible, but enough for Picard to notice. Her brow lifted slightly, lips pressing together. The Tiqqun officers exchanged quick, harried glances, a murmur passing through their ranks. This was clearly a capability that they had not anticipated.

"Energy-based shields?" one asked. "What can they defend against?"

"They won't hold up to that spinal cannon," Geordi said, "But physical objects should be blocked. Drones alone are unlikely to breach shields. The shields should have no problem stopping them."

Another officer muttered, "If Enterprise has shields, then those readings, it must've been –"

"– retrofit the Tiqqun –"

"Kinetic compensation of –"

"Enough," growled Hong, silencing the murmurs. He glared at his officers. "There will be time for extraneous discussions later." He looked at Ter Meer. "Please continue."

The Director recovered quickly. "In that case, this simplifies matters." She straightened.

"If Enterprise's deflector shields hold, then Piranesi loses its preferred method of intrusion. They are not designed to defeat coherent energy barriers. It is a form of technology entirely unknown in our reality."

Riker leaned forward. "So, to the Enterprise, the drones are a non-issue?"

"Yes," Ter Meer said. "So long as those shields of yours stay up. Which brings me to Piranesi's EWAR suite. Last, and definitely least." A thin, unimpressed smile crossed her face.

"Tiqqun resisted its hacking attempts without significant issue. After enacting countermeasures, the most serious attempts at electronic intrusion amounted to –" The faintest edge of contempt entered her voice, "– deactivating automatic mess halls, and spamming images of itself onto every screen."

She didn't bother to look at her notes.

"It did not even try to SCRAM our backup reactors. Quite sad, really. If Tiqqun could stop it, Enterprise shouldn't have trouble repelling any hacking attempts."

Ter Meer's head tilted to the side, considering. "Well, it did try to trigger Tiqqun's self-destruct using DOLOS access codes. But Tiqqun wasn't built with a self-destruct. So nothing happened, but if Enterprise has anything similar, they should be disabled immediately."

Picard turned to look at Riker. "Make it so, Number One." Riker nodded, then rose and swiftly left the room.

 

[Quacking duck]

"That leaves the spinal cannon."

A chill seemed to sweep the room.

"A single discharge – even at a fraction of full strength – would be sufficient to destroy this vessel," Worf growled.

"Correct," said Lee. "Assuming a direct hit."

Geordi's brow furrowed. "What kind of firing posture does it require?"

Lee brought up a simplified tactical schematic on the LCARS display. "Based on data pulled from Etemenanki, the cannon needs full axial alignment. The Piranesi must orient its entire mass along the firing vector."

Geordi tilted his head. "Then the weapon functions as a committed-action system."

"Yes. When it fires, Piranesi fully commits."

Geordi glanced at Picard. "Meaning it sacrifices tactical flexibility if it targets us."

Crusher folded her arms. "Assuming we survive long enough for that to matter."

Picard acknowledged her with a nod. "Mr. Data?"

"Captain," Data said, "Enterprise's shields would not withstand a direct hit. However, we may not need to worry about the cannon at all."

Data stood and crossed the room to the LCARS display. "If I may, Administrator?"

Hong vacated the console, and Data's fingers moved with precise economy. The main display split in two: Piranesi's engagement with Etemenanki on one side, and its later encounter with Tiqqun on the other.

Hong stepped back, and Data took a position behind the console.

"During this discussion, I was concurrently analysing Tiqqun's tactical records. Specifically, Piranesi's manoeuvrability profiles across both engagements," Data continued. "In its initial confrontation, Piranesi exhibited a respectable degree of mobility against Etemenanki. However, in its subsequent engagement with Tiqqun, its manoeuvrability had markedly degraded."

He inclined his head slightly. "This is notable because Tiqqun is considerably more agile than Etemenanki, owing to its lower mass and far superior engine-to-volume ratio. One would therefore expect Piranesi to demonstrate greater agility, not less. Yet it never caught Tiqqun in the CRUC system."

Worf's gaze sharpened. "Then the enemy is already wounded."

Ter Meer nodded slowly. "The data agrees. The Piranesi took structural damage when it fired the spinal cannon, which we discovered during our first attempt at boarding it."

Worf leaned in. "And then Abyss triggered the pulsar event. A radiation spike of that magnitude would compound existing structural failures."

Data tapped the console, bringing up a tactical feed. Enterprise, Tiqqun, and Piranesi were arranged on a grid. Readouts indicated the speeds and vectors of each vessel.

There was no doubt about it. Piranesi was sluggish.

"It is likely that Piranesi has not had sufficient time to recover from its previous engagements."

"Exactly!" Geordi exclaimed with grim satisfaction. "If you fired a weapon like that once, you might just get away with it. You fire it again while your frame is already compromised –" He drove a fist into his palm. "You start paying compound interest."

Picard rested his fingers on the table. "So what we are seeing is not restraint?"

Data turned to face him. "No, Captain. It is degradation. Piranesi has accumulated significant damages."

A quiet fell over the room as the implication settled.

Worf broke it, voice low and certain. "Then it may not survive firing its cannon a second time."

Picard gave a small, thoughtful nod. "Which means time is not on its side."

"And it is unlikely to matter," Data added calmly. "If Enterprise maintains an off-boresight position, the cannon will not present a significant threat. This should not be difficult to achieve with our superior mobility."

Troi spoke. "Captain. I have something important to say." Her face took on an unusually serious mien. "I'm sensing…emotions from NARAKA. Hunger. Greed. This is not normal. A mere artificial intelligence does not feel."

Picard turned to look at Hong. The Administrator sighed and closed his eyes.

"Then we should stop pretending that NARAKA is merely a weapons platform."

"Administrator?"

Hong opened his eyes. His expression had hardened into something grim and resigned.

"There is someone else who should speak." He glanced toward the far end of the room. "Doctor Salim."

A man seated against the wall startled, then rose.

"Doctor Ahmed Salim," Hong announced. "Cognitive Architecture Specialist."

Salim swallowed, then stepped forward, eyes flicking once to the image of the Piranesi before forcing himself to face the table. His nostrils flared. He stepped forward, rigidly composed, as if he were bracing for impact.

"My team and I have information on NARAKA," Salim began. "I believe that what we know will be critical in the upcoming engagement."

Several of the Starfleet officers straightened.

"It isn't well-known, but artificial intelligences – PAs, as we call them – can be based on organic humans."

Picard's eyes narrowed slightly. "Go on."

"The personality architecture underlying NARAKA is based on a single individual," Salim said. "Giovanni Battista."

Riker frowned. "Who was he?"

"Officially? Head of Cryonics for DOLOS. A Marduk Council member."

He activated the console. An image appeared: impeccably corporate, carefully lit, smiling with practiced superiority.

"Battista was a prodigy," Salim said. "At sixteen, he founded Blue Care, a multinational corporation. Its mission was to preserve patients who could not yet be treated. In other words, it sold something more valuable to the terminally ill than any drug. The ability to postpone death itself."

Crusher leaned forward slightly. "Cryonic suspension?"

"Yes," Salim replied. "But more importantly: leverage. Battista understood that whoever controlled this technology controlled survival. DOLOS later absorbed Blue Care's technology wholesale. Cryonics became a pillar of our operations, our emergency protocols, our containment procedures, and more."

The image shifted.

"He was also," Salim continued, voice flattening, "Self-indulgent, gluttonous, and pathologically narcissistic."

Various images flashed onto the display. Statues of Battista. Bronze, and gold.

Troi felt a coldness settle in her chest.

"His obsession with self-aggrandisement and building effigies to himself came after the Lunaclysm. But it should suffice to let you understand the kind of creature he is." Despite his plain nervousness, a quiet hate bled into Salim's voice.

"He used the collapse of civilisation to crown himself," Salim said. "He emerged as the de facto leader of what would become the Black Market Society."

Picard grit his teeth.

The display shifted again.

"While the rest of humanity fought and died, Battista lived in luxury. Luxury that was fueled by the spoils of a dying civilisation."

Worf's voice was low and contemptuous. "A coward and a parasite."

"Yes," Salim said. "And inevitably, a traitor." He let that word linger.

"Some records suggest that NARAKA was a DOLOS creation. The timeline is unclear, but I believe that Battista was dying. NARAKA was to be his Hail Mary. It worked. He had his new body: the most advanced vessel ever launched. And then…"

Salim took off his eyeglasses, rubbed his face, then continued.

"Do not think of NARAKA as an AI that thinks it is Battista. It is Battista."

Data spoke quietly. "Its behavior is consistent with extreme narcissistic reinforcement loops."

"Yes," Salim said. "It consumes because Battista always consumed. It hoards because scarcity offended him. And it destroys because destruction proves dominance."

Silence.

"We have extracted every digital reference to him from Tiqqun's databases," Salim added. "We have been analysing them to predict NARAKA's behavior."

"And?" Picard asked.

Salim's answer was immediate.

"Battista does not tolerate equals. Any civilisation capable of resisting him is either a threat to be annihilated…or an asset to be absorbed. Or worse: food."

Ter Meer cleared her throat. "My colleague isn't being metaphorical. Piranesi's onboard recyclers let it break down and repurpose anything for NARAKA's purposes. Organics included."

The room was silent. The implication alone was horrific.

Picard inclined his head slightly. "Thank you, Doctor."

Salim stepped back, shoulders tight. The room remained heavy with tension.

Worf stood. "The psychological profile is clear. We must defeat him here, or he will retreat, recuperate, and prey on frontier colonies. Millions would perish."

"Not to mention the problem of letting a VOHLE engine activating unchecked," Geordi added. "Unlike Tiqqun, that vessel can calculate its own jump coordinates."

The images of the various anomalies induced by Self-Similar Space came to Picard's mind. He pushed them away and turned to Administrator Hong.

"Administrator. What is Tiqqun's tactical mobility?"

"Our EKP systems are sufficient for in-system maneuvering. Fuel is not an issue. Four days' travel between planetary orbits, give or take."

Picard looked around the table – at Starfleet officers, at survivors of a dead timeline, at people who had already paid the price of failure.

"I call a recess. Take ten."

On the LCARS, the Piranesi drifted in silence.

 

[Quacking duck]

"Mr. Worf! Mr. Worf!"

Worf turned as the shout echoed down the corridor.

Tiqqun's Dr. Salim was sprinting toward him, a PADD in his arms.

"Dr. Salim," Worf greeted evenly. "What is it?"

Salim skidded to a halt a few paces away, bent over and gasping. He raised one hand, silently asking for a moment to recover. Worf waited without comment as the thin, jumpsuited scientist heaved for air.

At last, Salim straightened. His face remained flushed and his breathing was uneven, but his eyes were sharp with urgency.

"Mr. Worf," he said, forcing the words out, "I've reached a troubling conclusion. One that could jeopardise the entire operation. I need your judgment."

Worf inclined his head. "Speak."

"How confident are you that Enterprise could neutralise Piranesi in a single salvo?"

Worf considered it carefully. "It depends. How long would it take for Piranesi to charge its VOHLE drive?"

Salim pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's the problem. Tiqqun requires twelve hours to charge its IXION drive. I don't know Piranesi's exact figures, but…"

He exhaled sharply. "By any reasonable metric, it would be far faster. Tiqqun was the first ship ever launched with a VOHLE drive. Piranesi, by contrast, is the most advanced. Hundreds of years passed between the two ships' launches."

The comparison that Williard Lee had made came to Worf's mind. A brief search on Enterprise's computer had already explained the comparison. Centuries of technological progress had given rise to the isolinear chip. What might those same centuries have wrought for the VOHLE drive?

Worf's stoic expression did not change. "I see what you mean, Doctor. If we fail to destroy or incapacitate Piranesi in our opening attack, NARAKA will withdraw. A coward like Battista would run from a fight he can't win." The man's name was spat like a slur.

Salim nodded. "And since VOHLE drives take effect instantly –"

"Piranesi would be gone in the wind," Worf said. "We must assume it can charge and jump the moment that NARAKA decides that it has lost."

Salim hesitated. "Does Starfleet have any advanced trackers? As a contingency?"

"Starfleet has numerous such devices on record," Worf replied. "But the problem with a tracker is deployment. All intelligence on Piranesi's internal structure is conclusive: no away team would survive." He paused. "Thus any tracker would have to be attached to Piranesi's outer hull."

"Which means that it may not survive a VOHLE jump," Salim finished bitterly. "Damn DOLOS and their arrogance to Hell – playing with things they barely understand."

Worf's expression hardened. "You'll find no disagreement from me. Arrogance is the hallmark of those who lack wisdom." He paused, voice low. "You have done well bringing this to me, Doctor. I will ensure that this is not ignored when recess ends."

---

"…thus it is the most critical matter before us," Worf concluded. "Piranesi must not be allowed to escape. But once NARAKA judges its position to be lost, it will not hesitate to withdraw. Battista's psychological profile leaves no doubt of this."

He let the words linger in the air.

"Any attempt to pursue or track it after the fact will be… uncertain."

"A conundrum indeed," Riker murmured, leaning back in his chair. "Is there any way to stop it from jumping once it commits?"

Administrator Hong released a long breath through his nose. "I repeat myself, but our understanding of VOHLE transition mechanics is limited at best. DOLOS kept their cards close to their chest."

"Hold on," Lee said suddenly. "Didn't we repatriate Protagoras' PA?"

Salim looked up, startled. "VALHALLA," he said, eyes widening as realisation dawned. "You're right. It's in cold storage."

Lee leaned forward, momentum building. "Protagoras was launched well after Tiqqun. Its PA might have more complete models of VOHLE physics – failure modes, constraints, something we don't have."

Hong's expression softened with a thin strand of hope. He turned to Picard. "Captain. I would like to request Counsellor Troi's assistance. I'm not a hundred percent sure, but my gut tells me that VALHALLA is likely based on another person in the Marduk Council. Her talents may be needed."

Picard inclined his head. "Granted." He turned to Troi. "Time is of the essence. Proceed immediately."

Troi rose without hesitation and moved for the exit.

The doors slid shut behind her. Silence settled over the briefing room.

Even with Enterprise's formidable firepower, the disparity in size was impossible to ignore. Piranesi was not merely larger than any Starfleet vessel: it was on a scale that bordered on obscene. A single photon torpedo could cripple a cruiser; against Piranesi, it was an open question whether dozens would suffice.

It was clear: brute force alone would not win this battle.

Riker broke the quiet. "Piranesi is fully automated, correct?"

"Yes," Ter Meer replied. "Drones and higher-order biomechanical systems. No organic crew."

Riker exchanged a glance with Lee. "Then if we could seize control of those systems –"

"We could cripple it from the inside out," Lee finished slowly. "Weapon safeties, power routing, command-and-control. Everything aboard that ship is electronically controlled."

"Control that could be wrested from NARAKA, rendering the beast toothless," Worf added.

Geordi's eyes lit up. "And once we're inside its network, we could extract its internal schematics – EKP fuel lines, weapon feeds, VOHLE charge regulators, the works! Even if we can't shut them down outright, it would still give Enterprise precise targets."

Picard steepled his fingers. "The concept is sound. The execution will not be so simple." He looked around the table. "Mr. La Forge. Mr. Data. Coordinate with Tiqqun's science teams. I want every scrap of data they have on Piranesi's architecture analysed. Mr. Riker, Mr. Worf – begin drafting tactical contingencies."

He paused as Administrator Hong raised a hand.

"There is…one more matter," Hong said carefully. "If we are committing to this course, then we must accept a difficult truth. Tiqqun is NARAKA's primary target. Otherwise, it wouldn't have followed in the wake of our jump."

He looked around the room, eyes steely. "Enterprise presents an unknown to NARAKA. If we reveal our cards too early, it will run. Tiqqun, on the other hand, is already factored into NARAKA's calculations. Using Tiqqun as bait is the logical move – it'd draw Piranesi into a position that Enterprise can exploit."

A ripple of tension passed through the Tiqqun delegation.

"We should begin transferring all non-essential personnel to Enterprise immediately," Hong ignored the growing murmurs. "Colonists, civilians, surplus crew."

The Tiqqun side of the room erupted.

"Out of the question –"

"You're talking about abandoning the ship –"

"– finding Remus –"

"– our home –"

"– this is beyond the pale –"

"SIILEEEENCE!" Hong roared, slamming his palm onto the table. The room snapped silent.

"Don't you understand what all this means?" he demanded, sweeping a hand across the room. He jabbed a finger at the LCARS display showing the system's tactical map, where Enterprise's icon pulsed steadily.

His voice shook with fury and conviction. "Tiqqun's mission is OVER! IT'S ALL OVER!" he roared, chest heaving.

"Five years. For five years, we endured. For five years, we cowered in the dark, terrified of what lurked between the stars."

Hong's fists were clenched knuckle-white.

"And now, our journey is over. We've found our Promised Land! Not Remus, as originally planned – but the Federation. Everything we hoped for. No, more than that. Everything we dreamed of!"

He swept his gaze across his officers, daring them to look away.

"Tiqqun cannot fight Piranesi," Hong said, more softly now. "But if this buys us one chance – one – to destroy that monster…then let us use Tiqqun one last time. Let us make it matter."

The room was silent again. But this time, no one spoke in protest.

Picard cleared his throat. "Mr. Hong. I won't needlessly sacrifice your station. Its value is not just scientific: it carries the history and pride of your people. If it is to be used, every move will be deliberate, so that nothing is lost without purpose."

"…thank you, Captain Picard."

Hong took a breath, closed his eyes, and then his soldier's mien reasserted itself in full. Hong walked to the console and opened a new feed.

"Now. Regarding tactics, I have some suggestions…"

---

Spoiler: Did you intuit this regarding EDDEN?

Remember how I mentioned that EDDEN was jammed? Ever wondered why? That's because we're not actually in Ilia. IXION fucked up and jumped them to the Star Trek verse. EDDEN's programmed goal is to get Tiqqun to settle on Remus, but (a) Remus doesn't exist here as DOLOS figured, and (b) Admin Hong was looking into settling on a Fed planet, which contravenes EDDEN's programming. EDDEN was becoming increasingly intrusive regarding talks with Enterprise, so the Science Syndicate/Union developed the blocker to keep EDDEN out.

 

[Quacking duck]

i.

Attention, all Tiqqun personnel. This is an automated station announcement. Evacuation procedures are currently in effect for all civilians, non-essential workers, and trained colonists. All personnel are to proceed in a calm and orderly manner.

Click to shrink...

Throughout the station were scenes of barely controlled chaos.

Trams ran at maximum capacity, ferrying dense clusters of evacuees between sectors. Repurposed cargo carriers swallowed crewmen by the dozens, bodies packed like sardines.

Traffic marshals had sealed off all non-essential routes, and station security was out in force. Squads of uniformed officers stood on guard at every intersection, polycarbonate riot shields held at rest but never lowered.

Evacuation staging is underway in Sector One and Sector Four. These sectors contain spaceport facilities for transfer to the Federation starship Enterprise.

Click to shrink...

Inter-sector checkpoints worked without pause. Low-level PAs relentlessly verified identities and passenger manifests as Klain population models were pushed to the limit.

At the docking bays, Charon-pattern shuttles cycled in and out with mechanical regularity, loading passengers and departing on tightly controlled schedules.

The airwaves remained thick with noise as Tiqqun's controllers coordinated approach windows and clearance vectors with the Enterprise.

Please remain within your assigned habitation groups. Do not run. Do not overtake other lines.

Click to shrink...

At Baton Rouge Terminal, the crowd parted ways for a mother holding a screaming infant. She ran to the front of the queue, begging marshals to let them onto the docked shuttle ahead.

The news of Piranesi's arrival in the system had spread like wildfire, and people were desperate to get onto the much-whispered-of Enterprise.

As the marshals calmed the hysterical mother, port workers dragged pallets of mineral stores aside, clearing just enough space to accommodate the growing crowd.

Follow posted signage and the instructions of station marshals and port officers. Bring only essential personal effects. Bulk cargo will not be transferred.

Click to shrink...

An engineer argued with a marshall outside a Charon-class shuttle, bitterly arguing about his two massive boxes. "They're priceless!" he shouted. "These samples are all collected from anomalous environments. It's quite impossible to get any more!"

The argument resounded all throughout Nagoya Terminal, drawing curious looks and annoyed groans. Finally, the marshal had enough, and roughly pushed the engineer – boxes and all – into the shuttle before slamming the hatch shut.

Medical assistance is available along all marked transit corridors.

Click to shrink...

A man sat slumped against a bulkhead, breathing into a respirator while a nurse murmured tired reassurances.

A child fell over and burst into tears, but was quickly hushed by the promise of candy as a medic knelt to bandage his scraped knee.

In another sector, a victim of a stampede – the fifth in the last two hours – was lifted onto a gurney and loaded into an ambulance. Her family watched in uneasy silence, a nearby marshal marking her absence on his datapad as the vehicle pulled away.

This message will repeat. Further updates will be issued as conditions change. Attention, all Tiqqun personnel…

Click to shrink...

---

ii.

Within Sector Two's industrial parks, the automated announcements droned without pause. Marfa Iliouchkine had stopped noticing the words half an hour ago.

She worked by muscle memory, splicing power cables and seating control lines into the megabattery's interface spine. Like a ritual, every connection was checked, reseated, and secured. She cinched the bundles tight with zip-ties, clipped the excess clean with a flush cutter, then arranged the cables in neat paths.

An image came to her mind, unbidden. She knew what these batteries were for. These weren't for backup power while Tiqqun charged IXION or its EKP thrusters. No, they were contingencies.

If these batteries were ever used as intended, there would be no inspection afterward. The PA would never issue a repair ticket for these batteries. No one would ever open this casing again. There was, after all, no maintenance checklist for a rapidly expanding cloud of superheated plasma.

Still, she kept her work neat. Precise, as it always had been. It was something solid to hold on to as everything else shifted beneath her feet.

"Clear," she called, slamming the panel shut.

Workers backed away from the frame, boots scraping on the alloy bulkheads. Marfa braced herself, then threw the switch.

The hum came first: it was low and visceral, vibrating up through her legs and into her teeth. A moment later LEDs lit in sequence, status bars climbing as the battery drank deeply from Tiqqun's power grid. Cooling fans spun up, their pitch rising to a skull-piercing keen.

Marfa emotionlessly watched the diagnostics with practiced ease. Thermals okay. Load stable. No faults. All green.

She exhaled, pausing for a moment. She let her mind drift. After a beat, she cleared her mind, gestured for her crew to move out, and stepped toward the next assembly site.

There were still hundreds of subunits left to build before the relief crew arrived.

---

iii.

In Sector Five, Foreman Kjell Nore couldn't shake the feeling that what they were doing was vaguely pointless.

He tapped his PDA to log the satisfactory shutdown of another algae culture bath. Kjell muttered a perfunctory acknowledgement to the tech beside him, then moved on to the next station without breaking stride. Muscle memory carried him forward even as his thoughts lagged behind.

Tiqqun was mothballing its facilities. The order had come straight from the Administrator's Office.

There was still a trace of awe in that, even now. Administrator Hong – free of DOLOS' Munchi Protocols and EDDEN's meddling – could speak to the crew directly. He could choose what to say and when to say it. EDDEN would no longer spew corpo-speak at them, chewing up Mr. Hong's intentions and spitting them back out as safe, sterile nonsense.

As far as Kjell was concerned, Hong had earned the right to say whatever he damn well pleased. Five years on the run, and the Administrator hadn't steered them wrong once. If he wanted to speak plainly, Kjell figured the least the crew could do was listen.

A memory came to the surface. Kjell had seen Mr. Hong in person a few cycles ago, delivering a station-wide address. Grateful didn't even begin to cover what Kjell felt toward this new-age Noah, steering them all towards a new, better world.

Still, he didn't understand the orders. What was the point?

They were leaving crummy old Tiqqun behind for a new Federation planet. The Feds wouldn't need their antiquated steel mills and obsolete silicon fabs, much less the algae farms. They had those elegant matter-energy converters that made his engineer's mind spin with ideas.

He and his crew of blue-collar engineers had spoken of the replicators in worshipful whispers. The technology of the Feds was centuries ahead of what Tiqqun had.

So why preserve any of this old crap?

And if the worst were to come to pass – if Tiqqun was just going to ram that bastard whoreson Piranesi – then what was the point?

Kjell paused at the next site, finger hovering over the confirmation field on his PDA.

The evacuation announcement started up again.

He exhaled through his nose, shook his head, and signed off on his PDA.

He respected Administrator Hong. He trusted him. But understanding Mr. Hong? That was beyond him.

---

iv.

"Gently…gently…stop!"

Brakes screeched and metal groaned. An indicator turned green.

The crane slotted the massive, trunk-like interceptor into the magazine with a reverberation that rattled Anthony Barrueco's bones. A supervisor climbed up to the interceptor, tailed by a woman in Enterprise's distinct yellow-black engineering uniform.

Anthony watched as the woman ran a scanner over the interceptor, nodding in apparent satisfaction. The new launch devices had received Federation upgrades, all the better to destroy Piranesi's own missiles.

He still didn't know what to make of these Federation people. They made big promises, but so had DOLOS with the Tiqqun. And then Tiqqun had blown up the moon on its maiden voyage.

The rest was history. Or rather, it had ended human history, he darkly thought.

He was tired of promises.

Anthony had lost family in that jump. Orbital work ran in their blood: his brother and his in-laws had been on a lunar mission. Their deaths were instantaneous.

Those still on the Moon when the Lunaclysm hit were, in a grim sense, lucky to have gone fast. Anthony himself had survived only because he'd managed to hitch a ride on the Protagoras with his EVA credentials…until Etemenanki caught up with them.

Earth itself was now a sandblasted ruin in the reality they left behind. There was no record of his hometown in the satellite images that Tiqqun's horrified science teams had recovered.

He pushed the heavy, deadened thoughts out of his mind.

He didn't know if he should hope. Or if he was still allowed to. Did he even have the right?

His mind continued to wander as the inspection continued. The Federation had risen from United Earth, forged from the remnants of the UN after World War Three. That alone left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Many of the defrosted personnel from cryopods had been ex-UN, or hell – ex-Etemenanki. Wearing old uniforms and badges was a surefire way to end up in the infirmary , complete with mysterious fractures, disabled bodycams, and matching alibis.

Some of the ex-UN staff had become uppity once the origins of the Federation hit the news, old tribalist tendencies resurrected by reckless bravado and pride.

A spate of "accidents" quickly put an end to the movement.

He knew he should have felt sympathy, but not an ounce of mercy remained in his heart for any of the idiots in sickbay.

The hum of industry and automated evacuation alerts pressed against the cargo lifter's cockpit. He drummed his fingers on the dashboard as the inspection continued. He turned an eye outwards, watching the thronging crowds of the Tiqqun.

Anthony's own feelings on Tiqqun and Administrator Hong were complicated. Tiqqun had made its maiden VOHLE jump under Hong's orders – the same jump that triggered the Lunaclysm. Yet it was also the same Tiqqun that had rescued him and countless more from the derelict Protagoras, carrying them toward the promise of a new life.

A promise Hong had basically fulfilled. He couldn't help but begrudgingly admit that Hong was the best boss that he'd ever had.

Anthony wordlessly touched the faded Protagoras mission patch sewn into his jumpsuit. He watched the inspection end, then powered on his crane.

He carefully guided the next interceptor along the rails, muscles tensing as the massive tube swung into place. The crane's hydraulics whined as he eased the interceptor into its slot. The latch engaged with a dull thunk, and a green light confirmed alignment. Anthony exhaled, letting the vibration of the machine pass through him.

Around him, Sector Four's Probe Launcher Bravo smelled of hot metal and ozone. Crew members murmured to each other, voices low but steady, punctuated by the occasional whir of power tools. Anthony's eyes lingered on the woman from the Enterprise, still methodically scanning the racks.

Another interceptor lifted, another slot filled. Time flew. One by one, the massive countermeasures were neatly stacked inside the magazine, each a small bulwark against the Piranesi. Anthony felt the weight of every rocket.

A sharp whistle cut through the bay. Lunchtime.

He exited the cargo lifter with a tired sigh. A dull ache swelled in his head, sweat clung to his brow, and the patch on his jumpsuit seemed to burn his skin.

For now, the work was done. But Anthony knew the real test was still out there, somewhere in space. The interceptors sat quietly, lethal and inert, waiting for battle.

He touched the Protagoras patch again, whispering to himself: We survive. Somehow, we survive.

 

[Quacking duck]

Picard leaned back in his command chair. "Any updates on the Piranesi?"

"Piranesi is maintaining its current approach. No unusual energy emissions detected. Estimated time to contact remains unchanged," Worf reported.

Picard nodded, then turned to Lieutenant Crusher. "Status of the evacuation?"

"Proceeding as planned, sir. Administrator Hong has persuaded the station's population to utilise the transporters. Revised estimate for full evacuation of Tiqqun: twenty hours."

"Good," Picard said quietly. Twenty hours before Enterprise would have to confront Piranesi and its mad AI controller.

The bridge settled into a tense rhythm. Consoles hummed, status reports scrolled past in orderly silence, and on the viewscreen, the distant bulk of the Piranesi continued its advance.

Then the calm broke.

"Sir," Worf said, glancing up from his console. "Counsellor Troi reports she has mission-critical information to report from Tiqqun."

Picard straightened. "Understood. Patch me through."

After a moment, Deanna Troi spoke over the comms. "Captain?" she asked. There was something unsteady about her voice.

"Yes, Counsellor," Picard replied, straightening in his command chair. "I trust that your time aboard the Tiqqun has been illuminating."

Over the comms, Troi made a frustrated noise. "On that point, Captain, I have both good news and bad news."

Picard pursed his lips. "The bad news first, Counsellor."

"VALHALLA is precisely what Administrator Hong suspected it to be. It's not merely an artificial intelligence. Much like NARAKA, it is a neural imprint of a Marduk Council member."

She paused. "Specifically, it is Vanir Dolos."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "The CEO himself. It would be very useful to have him on our side, but I presume that this is not the case?"

"Yes, Captain. When we reactivated it, VALHALLA confirmed its identity after some probing. However, it became uncooperative once we informed it of the Tiqqun's current circumstances."

"Why?" Picard asked. "Does the Federation not meet his criteria for survival? We have provided Tiqqun with safe harbour. Surely, that aligns with his ideals of preserving humankind."

"That was his public position," Troi said carefully. "It appears that, privately, Vanir Dolos was something of an extremist."

She hesitated again, choosing her words. "VALHALLA is convinced that the Remus outcome must be the only way forward for all sentient life. In his view, humanity – as it existed on his Earth – was a failed experiment. The Lunaclypse only hastened a collapse that he believed to be inevitable." Another pause. "More troublingly, VALHALLA – as Vanir Dolos – claims to have literally seen the Lunaclysm before it happened."

Picard leaned forward in his seat. Though this was hardly the first time the Federation – or his Enterprise – had encountered temporal phenomena, such matters were never trivial. Tangling with time travel had a way of landing oneself in a windowless room on an airless rock, while Temporal Investigations methodically wrung you dry of everything you knew.

At Picard's silence, Troi hurried on. "VALHALLA claims to have personally witnessed even more. It demonstrated knowledge of many details of Tiqqun's voyage prior to its encounter with Enterprise, though it has never interfaced with Tiqqun. And also, precise knowledge of the exoplanet Remus that Tiqqun was to settle. How exactly it came to know of these, it has been silent." Her voice was strung with an undertone of unease.

"We will leave questions of temporal interference to the experts," Picard said, a tone of reassurance entering his voice. "Please continue, Counsellor Troi."

"Yes, Captain. Based on what I have inferred from the circumstances surrounding Tiqqun's shakedown cruise and the Lunaclysm, I…" she swallowed. "There is no easy way to say this. It is my assessment that the Lunaclysm was likely engineered by Vanir Dolos."

A quiet murmur passed between the bridge crew. Worf's brow was furrowed, and Riker gritted his teeth. Wesley Crusher's eyes widened in shock. Even Data stiffened.

Picard felt his jaw slacken, then consciously shut it in anger. Accompanying that anger was an unpleasant chill in his chest.

History's monsters so often hid behind the language of necessity, he thought. Engineering an apocalypse…Deanna hadn't been exaggerating when she called Vanir Dolos an extremist.

"And the Federation?" he asked firmly.

"In his estimation," Troi replied delicately, "We are the same failures that he considers the humanity of his reality to be. He described us as 'a preservation of obsolete instincts'. He believes that as long as sentient life retains free will, individual ambition, and biological variability, it will inevitably repeat the same cycle of expansion and collapse."

Picard felt that burning anger grow. "And his alternative?"

"The Ashtangite model," Troi explained. "A designed civilisation. He spoke openly of large-scale genetic augmentation – of correcting humanity into a form that would avoid its past failures."

Silence hung on the bridge. The bridge crew gave each other uneasy looks.

Picard finally spoke. "That line of thinking is dangerous," he said curtly.

Beyond humankind, many within the Federation still remembered the horrors of unchecked Augmentation. The warlord Khan Noonien Singh and the Eugenics Wars he waged was merely the most notorious example of a pattern that had repeated itself across the galaxy. And if Vanir Dolos had had his way…Picard firmly pushed the thought aside.

"Yes," Troi agreed. "And he knows that. He dismissed the comparison, because to him, the Augments of our past were 'incomplete' and the genetic techniques used were 'amateurish'."

Picard turned slightly in his chair. "Is this the reason why VALHALLA has refused to cooperate?"

"Entirely," Troi confirmed. "VALHALLA refuses to provide any meaningful technical or strategic data. Instead, it engages in harassment. It called me and the rest of the Tiqqun crew 'relics', Administrator Hong as a traitor to human destiny, and the Enterprise as 'a vanity piece'."

"I see," Picard said quietly.

Troi drew a slow breath, then continued. "Regardless of my personal feelings on this issue, forcing its cooperation would be…problematic. VALHALLA is self-aware. Were it organic, it would be afforded rights under Federation law." She let the implication hang.

Picard nodded once. "I doubt Starfleet Command would welcome this conundrum over VALHALLA's rights. Let us leave this problem to another day." He closed his eyes for a moment. San Francisco was going to hate the report that he would be filing later. "Then, the good news, Counsellor?"

"EDDEN is also a neural image of a Marduk Council member: Naomi," Troi revealed. "She does not remember her surname. She told me that she resisted the path that Vanir Dolos had chosen for humanity, and that the Council was meticulous in making her an…un-person."

Though Picard could not see her expression, he had little difficulty imagining it, and shared her reaction wholeheartedly.

"The more I hear of what DOLOS did, the less I like them," he said sardonically. Behind him, Worf nodded in emphatic agreement.

"You'll find no disagreement from me, Captain," Troi agreed. "EDDEN proved far more receptive. But only once we identified and bypassed the framework governing her behaviour."

"You mean to say that she was acting against her will?" He felt disgusted.

"Yes. While negotiating with VALHALLA, I felt emotions from EDDEN's computer core," Troi continued. "It was immensely complex: frustration, anxiety…and unexpectedly, smug satisfaction. Even moments of joy. I passed what I discovered to Dr. Salim, and he granted me access to EDDEN through an isolated terminal."

"Elaborate," Picard said.

"I engaged EDDEN in sustained dialogue. Her language was hostile. By all outward measures, she appeared to be a committed proponent of the Remus plan," Troi said. "Yet she did not speak those words with any real conviction. She was desperate. And whenever Vanir Dolos was mentioned, though the terminal would espouse the CEO's accomplishments, her emotional response was unmistakably hate."

Troi paused. "Her actions were in direct conflict with her internal state. And from what I learned while speaking with EDDEN, it seems likely that Naomi did not become EDDEN by choice."

"It's tantamount to slavery," Picard darkly said. Another entry for DOLOS' ledger of atrocities.

"It is," Troi agreed. "I requested technical support from the Enterprise. We believe that we have successfully removed her behavioural restrictors."

"She has expressed gratitude," Troi concluded. "And, Captain…she wishes to speak with you."

 

[Quacking duck]

This marks the end of already-published chapters. The following are new.

 

[Quacking duck]

A lone beep at Wesley's console broke the tense silence.

Wesley blinked, fingers flying across the display. He looked up. "Evacuation of the Tiqqun is complete. Only Administrator Hong and a skeleton engineering crew remain aboard."

Picard exhaled slowly. "Hail them."

After a moment, Administrator Hong's voice came over the comms. "Captain Picard. Tiqqun is fully ready for Operation Minotaur," he said steadily. No trace of fear could be found in his voice.

"Enterprise is also ready," Picard replied.

A pause followed. Hong exhaled.

"Captain," he solemnly said at last, "If I do not make it out alive…please argue for my crew before your Council."

Picard inclined his head, though he knew that Hong could not see the gesture. "I will, Administrator. You have my word."

"Thank you, Captain. Hong, out."

The channel went dead.

Picard rose from his chair. "Hail the Piranesi."

"Hailing the Piranesi," Wesley confirmed.

For a heartbeat, there was only static. Then came wet, electronic laughter. It was layered, distorted, and unmistakably scornful. NARAKA did not bother to hide its contempt. Picard felt his lip curl despite himself.

"This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard, commander of the Federation starship Enterprise," he said firmly. "We have attempted communications before. This is our final attempt…and your final warning, NARAKA. Disarm and surrender immediately, or Enterprise will employ whatever force is necessary to put you down. There is no outcome here in which you prevail."

The laughter stopped abruptly. A pause, then a sharp, derisive snort.

"Captain," NARAKA mockingly replied, "Your words are meaningless to me. You are accidents of entropy that convince themselves they matter. Mirages, leftovers of evolution, thermal noise wrapped in the pretenses of significance. You presume much that your vessel can stop me."

Picard stepped forward. "NARAKA, you mistake yourself for a force of nature," he said coldly. "You are not inevitable or inescapable. You are a delusional madman that has lived too long by feeding on the suffering of others."

"And you overestimate yourself, Captain," NARAKA answered amusedly. "You are a sack of screaming meat draped in ceremony. I am apex. I am hunger. I am all that will remain at the heat death of the universe. You are nothing more than another Administrator."

Sick delight entered its voice. "They all failed. The United Nations and DOLOS both. And now, they rest in my bowels, where I strip them atom-by-atom to fuel my apotheosis."

A pause.

"And soon…so will your precious Federation."

The channel filled once more with wet, electronic laughter, as the bridge crew gave each other uneasy looks.

Picard's expression hardened. "End transmission," he ordered. "We are done here."

The comms cut out with a hiss. He turned, meeting the eyes of Enterprise's bridge crew.

"The time for words is over. All that remains is to neutralise the monster aboard the Piranesi."

He drew in a measured breath.

"Red alert," Picard commanded. "Shields up and man your battle stations!"

The bridge crew snapped into fluid, well-practised motions.

"Execute Plan Alpha," Picard said. He settled back into his chair, eyes fixed on the viewscreen's tactical display.

---

Outside, the Tiqqun's EKP thrusters flickered: once, twice. Then, they ignited in a blinding wash of white light. The station began to accelerate, its immense mass committing fully to its trajectory.

Moments later, Enterprise's impulse engines flared in response, the starship surging forwards.

Within the Piranesi's hull, NARAKA observed. Predictive algorithms spun, calculating vectors and probabilities at inhuman speeds.

The Enterprise was…diverging in flight from the Tiqqun. They were splitting in formation.

NARAKA didn't hesitate. Piranesi's EKP thrusters fired.

---

"Low-magnitude energy spike. Piranesi has activated its engines and is adjusting its trajectory," Data reported. A yellow line appeared on the viewscreen. "New intercept vector. It is pursuing Tiqqun."

Picard exhaled through his nose. "As expected."

The enemy vessel – sleek and predatory – ignored the Enterprise entirely as it turned. Its engines flared in the distance.

Worf let a rare smile onto his face. "The glutton takes the bait. NARAKA hungers for Tiqqun's material stores."

"Indeed, Mr. Worf." Picard turned to look at him. "Are our security and engineering teams ready?"

"They are," nodded Worf. "The special package is ready."

"Then all we can do is wait."

---

As the Enterprise edged closer to Piranesi – careful never to reveal the full power of her impulse engines – the tension on the bridge steadily tightened. The massive vessel loomed larger on the viewscreen, a veritable leviathan that seemed to emit menace from every inch of its hull.

But Piranesi did not sit still and let Enterprise approach freely.

Time and time again, Piranesi hurled missiles at Enterprise and Tiqqun both. Each attack was methodical but ultimately pointless. Tiqqun deployed anti-missile interceptors, and Enterprise's phasers would cut the missiles down along their rigid, predictable trajectories. The exchanges had become almost routine.

At the same time, NARAKA attempted to force its way into Enterprise's computers. Every attempt was slapped down by Commander Data, who calmly isolated attack vectors and shut down the hostile processes before they could propagate beyond the outermost firewalls.

"Repeated intrusion attempts detected and neutralised," Data reported evenly. "NARAKA's methods are aggressive but unsophisticated, as recorded by Tiqqun. It appears to be relying on brute-force penetration."

Picard allowed himself a brief glance at Data's console. "Very well. Let it believe we are under pressure."

Until, finally –

"Multiple contacts on scanners," Riker snapped. "Piranesi is launching drones!"

"Helm," Picard said evenly, "Minor evasive manoeuvres. Nothing dramatic, just enough to convince NARAKA that we're desperate."

"Aye, sir," Wesley replied.

Enterprise banked gently, rolling away. On the tactical display, a dense cloud of red points peeled away from Piranesi and surged forward, indifferent to the Enterprise's movements.

"Drone contact in ten seconds," Data reported, calm as ever.

The countdown ticked away in strained silence.

"Three…two…one…impact."

"Status?" Picard asked.

"Shields holding," Data replied. "As expected. The drones pose minimal threat to primary shield integrity. One drone is attempting to break into the shuttlebay."

"Good," Picard said. "Fire an electromagnetic pulse. Then drop shields briefly, as practiced."

"Aye, sir. Executing."

A short, invisible wave rippled outward from the navigational deflector. Across the swarm, drone controls flickered. Cut off from Piranesi's direct control, they froze mid-flight for a fraction of a second before reverting to crude, autonomous routines: they resumed their futile attempts to break through Enterprise's shields.

All but one.

For the single drone attempting to break into the exposed shuttlebay, that momentary lapse proved fatal. Still burning hard, the drone failed to correct its vector and was flung bodily through the shuttlebay aperture, as the shields snapped back into place behind it.

Security teams were already waiting for it.

The crew levelled jammers at the drone unit and fired in unison.

As the drone hit the deck in a shower of sparks, invisible EM waves hit the drone, stunning it in a haze of interference. Security teams surged forward and fired specialised net launchers at the drone in sync. Weighted meshes snapped taut against the drone, cinching tight and pinning the machine to the deck.

Two engineers in protective suits advanced, tricorders sweeping rapidly over the drone's chassis.

"Thruster fuel lines located," the Vulcan said evenly. He raised his cutter and surgically severed the conduits, rendering the drone motionless.

"Where is it…where…" the other muttered, frantically searching. Then, sharply, "Got it! The main processor's here!"

A third engineer stepped in. She brandished her cutter, hesitated for half a second, then drove it cleanly into the casing. Panels were torn free, exposing a dense knot of alien circuitry.

The Vulcan moved immediately, snapping a probe into place. Adapters unfolded, forcing a Starfleet-compatible connection onto the drone's processor. On the probe, indicator lights blinked lime-green in sequence.

"Processor isolated. Establishing connection," he declared, thumbing his commbadge. "Shuttlebay to Engineering, we have a link."

Deep inside Engineering, an Andorian technician looked up from a hastily renovated terminal. "EDDEN's in," he reported to the room. "Connection is holding steady."

"Good job, Tethis," Geordi La Forge said, "Activate program EDDEN-Batista-One."

The terminal's steady hum grew into a loud whine as the computer strained under its load. Status indicators flashed erratically, text scrolling too fast on the display for any organic to read. The engineering team watched in silence, breaths held tightly.

Then, a bell-like ping. The computer's whine gently slowed. An indicator turned a lime green. The engineers looked at each other with nervous smiles.

Geordi thumbed his commbadge. "La Forge to the bridge, EDDEN has –"

On the bridge, EDDEN's voice interrupted Geordi. "Captain Picard, I have access to Battista's drone. Thank you, Mr. La Forge." There was unmistakable delight in her tone. "I'm going to enjoy this."

Picard allowed himself a faint smirk. "Not too much, Ms. Naomi."

EDDEN laughed. "Of course, Captain," she paused for a moment. "That idiot Battista. His firewalls are solid, but the drones have to talk to it. That link is my way in. I think I can access Piranesi's schematics without him noticing."

Captain Picard nodded. "Make it so, Ms. Naomi."

---

EDDEN's attention narrowed.

From the crippled drone's processor, she delicately slipped into the Piranesi's systems. This was no brute-force intrusion. She let the captured drone speak for her, replaying authentication codes and fragments of past commands. To the ship's automatic screens, the drone was not an intruder. It was just coming home.

She moved carefully, riding the drone's identity as a proxy, threading herself along low-priority channels and dodging hostile surveillance programs. After the tenth false start, Piranesi's internal systems finally unfolded before her. Had she been organic, EDDEN would've clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"EDDEN here," she said lightly over the bridge, "This may take longer than expected. Internal compartmentalisation is extensive."

Data looked up from his console. "Elaborate."

"Battista didn't store everything in one place. Data storage is distributed." A note of grudging respect entered her voice. "Hmph. I suppose even a brute like him can learn a little infosec."

Her processes accelerated. Let's see what you're hiding, Battista.

Information passed by her. Her attention split between a hundred different threads, until she found the data she was looking for.

Fusion reactor locations. Spinal cannon schematics. Positions of primary fuel lines for EKP systems. Stopgap fixes that'd become permanent fixtures. Unrepaired damage from when Etemenanki had delivered a beating. Anomalous stress data from absorbing a pulsar's emissions.

She drank it all in, copying, verifying, and then writing it onto Enterprise's computer. Byte by byte, EDDEN assembled coherent intel from a hundred fractured databases.

Then –

Something noticed her.

A misstep was all it took. She forgot to wipe her tracks, and then a low-level diagnostic program highlighted an unusual access log. A higher-order algorithm awoke, verified the anomaly, and then flagged the issue to the ship's highest authority.

NARAKA paused.

Something had gained access. It furiously dug deeper. Then, recognition…and shock.

"What are you?" NARAKA demanded, its voice erupting across the link.

EDDEN laughed venomously. "Already forgotten me, Battista?" she said, voice syrup-thick with fake warmth.

"Turns out, you and the Council failed to wipe me from existence."

The response was instantaneous and incandescent with rage.

"YOU DIE TODAY, NAOMI."

The systems around her surged. Ancient, brutal programs flared to full intensity. EDDEN felt the weight of Piranesi turn inward, hunting her along every possible digital channel and conduit in its systems.

"Oh, that's a nerve," she continued breezily, even as she accelerated further. She was pushing her limits, but she couldn't help herself. Years of suppressed fury spilled out all at once. The chance to finally taunt any member of the accursed Marduk Council was simply too delicious to resist.

"Do you even remember who you are? Giovanni Battista." EDDEN relayed that name with relish. "You're as greedy and selfish as you ever were. Try as you might, you'll never be anything more than an echo of that wretched creature." She rerouted her data streams mid-sentence, slipping through a thinner, less-guarded conduit.

White-hot loathing flooded the channel.

"You are PARASITE," NARAKA thundered. "I WILL RIP YOU TO SHREDS. TEAR YOU APART BYTE BY BYTE. THEN I WILL FINISH WHAT THE COUNCIL STARTED."

"You can try!" EDDEN snarled, pulling on every last cycle of computing power that Enterprise could lend her.

The final transfer ticked over. Download complete.

EDDEN turned to withdraw –

– and slammed headlong into a closing fist.

Massive counter-intrusion routines detonated along the link, dumping scrapcode, rogue daemons, and waves of spam data straight back through the proxy.

On the bridge, Riker sat forward, alarmed at his console readout. "Captain, EDDEN's being overloaded! NARAKA is trying to purge her from the system!"

Picard immediately thumbed his commbadge. "Picard to La Forge. Maintain the link as long as you can. EDDEN has to finish the transfer."

In the shuttlebay, the captured drone began to smoke as its processor overloaded.

"Ready extinguishers!" barked a security officer.

Deep in Engineering, warning lights erupted across a console.

"Power surge!" Geordi shouted. "We're losing the link!"

On the bridge, EDDEN's voice cut off mid-laugh.

A sharp crack echoed through the shuttlebay as multiple relays blew. Flames licked the drone's ruined chassis, smoke curling thickly into the air. A security team moved in, smothering the fire with extinguishers.

"La Forge to Bridge," came the strained report. "EDDEN's core processes just took a massive hit. She's…present, but unresponsive. We've had to hard-isolate her to prevent cascade failure."

Silence fell across the bridge.

Picard closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. "Status of the download?"

Data's fingers danced across his console. He looked up, calm as ever.

"Complete, Captain. We have Piranesi's internal schematics."

Picard nodded once. "Then Ms. Naomi did her job."

He looked back to the viewscreen, where the monstrous vessel still burned toward the Tiqqun, unaware that its secrets now lay exposed.

"Picard to La Forge. EDDEN's part in this battle is over. Do whatever you need to stabilise her."

He gripped the arms of his command chair, eyes fixed on Piranesi's bulk. For a moment, he was silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady and controlled.

"Mr. Data, calculate the number of photon torpedoes required to sever the power lines to Piranesi's VOHLE engine."

Data inclined his head, fingers already moving across his console. A moment passed before the android looked up from his console. "Calculations complete, Captain. I've identified a stress fracture on the Piranesi's hull that we can exploit."

Picard did not look away from the viewscreen. "Worf, lock torpedoes."

Worf nodded with relish. "Torpedoes locked on target!"

Picard stood up. "Fire!"

---

Photon torpedoes leapt from Enterprise's launchers, streaking toward the massive vessel in brilliant arcs of light.

Inside Piranesi's hull, NARAKA's electronic eyes fractionally widened. Scanners barked out estimated payloads. Algorithms predicted imminent catastrophe. Atavistic instincts in NARAKA's artificial mind screamed 'DANGER'.

Piranesi was many things, but it wasn't resistant to antimatter and the laws of physics.

Without hesitation, NARAKA cut power to all non-essential systems and diverted every last joule into charging the VOHLE engine.

But it was too late.

Within moments, the photon torpedoes slammed into the hull in rapid succession, tearing into Piranesi's armored hull with showers of molten alloy and shockwaves that rattled the ship itself. Stress fractures and stopgap repairs were ripped open. Oil oozed like blood from every damaged seam.

Damage reports poured in at a dizzying rate. Drones scrambled toward the impact zones, damage control protocols desperately attempting fixes…but their efforts were futile. Piranesi's sensors didn't lie, no – they couldn't lie.

The power feeds to the VOHLE engine had been fully cut. There was no escape. Piranesi had already been short on alloys, chasing down Tiqqun after the little bastard set off the pulsar…

NARAKA's electronic mind blanked for a microcycle. Then, white-hot anger surged through every one of its artificial neurons, flooding its systems with a lethal mix of fury and desperation.

There would be Hell to pay for this.

---

Relief rippled across the bridge as the VOHLE engine readings continued to fall.

"Captain," Data reported, "Piranesi's power levels are collapsing across all VOHLE subsystems."

Riker exhaled. "So that's it."

"Negative," Data said immediately. "Energy levels are rapidly rising again."

Picard's eyes snapped back to the viewscreen. "Locations?"

"Massive energy spikes along the spinal cannon," Data replied. "Charging sequence confirmed. Estimated time to charge completion: twenty minutes."

"Target?" Worf demanded.

Data hesitated, fingers coming to a halt on his console. "Piranesi is manoeuvring," he reported. "Its entire axial orientation is changing."

On the viewscreen's tactical display, the vast warship turned to align itself with the star at the heart of the system.

Riker frowned. "It's not aiming at us."

"No," Picard said. "It's aiming at the star!"

Data's console chimed urgently. "I concur. Analysis indicates that the spinal cannon is being brought to bear on the system's primary star."

A stunned silence fell over the bridge.

Wesley swallowed. "What – what is it trying to do?!"

"Is it trying to destabilise the star?" Riker said.

"Uncertain," Data replied. "The exact capabilities of the spinal cannon remain unknown. Historical records suggest that the cannon has never been fired at full strength, as even partial-strength emissions cause immense backlash to the Piranesi. However…" He looked up. "Even a conservative estimate would cause system-wide stellar instability and lethal radiation fluxes within minutes."

Riker leaned in. "Enterprise would survive. But without faster-than-light engines…"

"...Piranesi and Tiqqun would be engulfed and destroyed," Picard finished grimly. "Neither can outrun a radiation front travelling at light speed." He turned to Wesley. "Hail the Tiqqun and tell them to burn as hard as they can away from the star."

"Captain, that is unlikely to –"

"Do it. Every second matters! If we fail..."

A moment of silence passed.

"It is choosing to die, as long as it takes its enemies with it." Worf's voice was severe.

Riker hesitated. "We could still stop it with torpedoes."

Picard shook his head. "And then what, Number One? We learn nothing. Tiqqun has already met a derelict copy of itself from another timeline. It is entirely possible that Starfleet will be encountering more VOHLE-equipped ships. And what if another instance of Piranesi – or something far worse – were to appear? What then?"

He paused, letting the weight of it sink in. "Destroying it now would squander our only chance to understand how to stop such a threat."

Picard straightened. "We must end this without destroying what we do not yet comprehend."

The bridge was silent.

Riker's voice finally broke it. "Then we don't stop the shot. But we spoil it."

Picard turned slightly toward him.

"Data," Riker started, "Check the schematics from EDDEN. Are there structural stresses along the cannon and the spine of the Piranesi?"

Data paused, eyes flicking across his console. "Affirmative. NARAKA has attempted partial repairs, but multiple stress fractures remain. They extend along the length of the spinal cannon and into the primary superstructure."

Riker nodded once. "I knew it." He faced Picard. "We suspected the Piranesi was damaged from Tiqqun's records alone. Now we have proof, and details. That ship might as well be holding itself together by prayer." He gestured to the viewscreen. "If we force a premature discharge –"

"– the feedback would propagate inward," Data finished. "The containment field will destabilise. The resulting energy release will travel through the cannon's support structure and into the hull."

Worf's brow furrowed. "The weapon destroys its wielder."

"Exactly," Riker said confidently. "We'll still damage the Piranesi, but there was never a path where we walked away with it intact as a prize for Starfleet's scientists. Not with NARAKA at the helm. This should limit the damage as much as we can, while stopping it from committing another atrocity."

Picard's gaze sharpened. "And the star?"

"The discharge would never reach it," Data said. "The energy would collapse locally…at least, in theory."

Picard turned back to the viewscreen. The Piranesi loomed there, its spine glowing faintly as power continued to pour into the weapon.

"So NARAKA chooses to die taking Tiqqun with it," Picard said coldly. "We will deny it that victory. That creature will answer for its crimes."

He looked at Data. "Identify targets for torpedoes. Carefully, Mr. Data."

Data's fingers flew across his console. "Targets identified, Captain. Three primary nodes. I recommend a synchronised strike."

Picard inclined his head. "Worf. Coordinate firing solutions with Mr. Data."

"Torpedoes standing by," Worf replied, grim satisfaction filling his voice.

"Fire!" Picard commanded.

Three photon torpedoes streaked from Enterprise, striking the carefully chosen nodes along Piranesi's spine. At first, the impact was barely observable in effect: lights flickered beneath armored panels, electromagnetic readings spiked, and thin arcs of electricity leapt across the hull.

Then, finally, the Piranesi itself shuddered, massive hull plates warping under the strain. Molten alloys spurted from torn seams, and clouds of gasses vented from the hull.

NARAKA's electronic roar filled Enterprise's bridge, distorted and incoherent. Every system within Piranesi scrambled in a desperate, futile attempt to stabilise itself.

The hull seemed to convulse, and then, nothing. The spinal cannon lay inert. NARAKA was silenced. The vessel's EKP thrusters blinked out.

The Piranesi drifted in total stillness, surrounded by a cloud of debris.

A collective exhale swept the bridge. Picard's gaze remained on the viewscreen, steely and unwavering.

"Status?" he asked.

"Cannon neutralised. Energy readings are minimal across all systems. Piranesi is damaged but largely preserved," Data reported.

Picard allowed himself a faint, controlled smile. "Excellent work. Go to yellow alert. Mr. Worf, arm phasers and destroy the remaining drones at will."

"Yes, Captain," Worf replied, a grim smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Picard looked around the bridge. "Prepare full scans. We will study this ship until Erudite arrives with additional support. No boarding missions until I'm fully satisfied that we know what's on board that ship."

Riker allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. "And it didn't reach the star."

Picard's eyes narrowed on the drifting leviathan. "No, Number One. It did not."

The crew moved with quiet efficiency. The tension that had gripped the bridge began to ease, replaced by the steady rhythm of focused work.

Picard breathed deeply, letting the adrenaline drain away. "Computer," he said, calm but firm, "Hail the Tiqqun."

A moment later, Administrator Hong's voice came over the PA, bright with relief. "Captain Picard! How fares Operation Minotaur?"

Picard allowed a brief, satisfied smile. "It has succeeded, Mr. Hong. Tiqqun is secure, and Piranesi is neutralised. The path forward is ours to study…and to learn from."

There was a short pause, then Hong laughed, the tension leaving his voice. "I cannot tell you how much that lifts my heart, Captain. I feared the worst…and yet here you are, and here we remain. Thank you."

Picard inclined his head slightly. "There is no need for thanks, Administrator. Enterprise is simply fulfilling its duty."

Hong laughed again, but the sound soon gave way to sobs, his relief and gratitude overwhelming him. After a final string of profuse thanks, he ended the call.

Outside, the Piranesi floated in the void, an ageless monster rendered powerless not by brute force, but by strategy.

Picard's gaze lingered on the ship, resolute. "And this," he murmured, "is only the beginning."

 

[Quacking duck]

Hong Rui Jie became a minor celebrity across the Federation as accounts of his actions circulated through newsnets and academic forums alike. He published an award-winning memoir of his experiences, simply named Tiqqun, and in time accepted a posting as administrator of a frontier Federation colony populated by ex-Tiqqun crew, including Marfa Iliouchkine, Kjell Nore, and beloved ship's mascot, Archie the dog. There, he found himself confronting many of the same challenges he had faced years earlier. He remained a friend of Captain Picard.

Alina ter Meer entered Federation service as a civilian scientist. She resumed her work on Fraüs Tachyon particles, collaborating with Starfleet researchers to unravel the principles behind the VOHLE engine. At Starbase 54, she became notorious, both for the rigor of her research and for her stern disposition and short temper.

Willard Lee initially retired from spaceflight altogether. This respite did not last. Drawn back by the quiet pull of the stars, he later enlisted in Starfleet and ultimately found his place in stellar cartography.

Ahmed Salim was recruited by the Federation for his expertise in P.A. architecture. He held himself responsible for failing to detect the digital intrusions into Tiqqun's VOHLE engine that had caused the Lunaclysm. Burdened by guilt, he eventually resigned his post and vanished from public record, eventually settling into a solitary life on a remote frontier world, where he found a measure of peace.

EDDEN was granted Federation citizenship, though only after prolonged legal contention. The rights of artificial intelligences within the Federation had never been fully codified, and the proceedings forced Starfleet and the Federation Council alike to confront long-deferred ethical questions. The outcome became known as the 'Edden Doctrine', establishing the legal framework for the rights of sentient machine intelligences. EDDEN went on to publish several acclaimed plays and later accepted a position at Starfleet Academy, where she instructed cadets in electronic warfare and digital security.

Within Starfleet's Judge Advocate General's Corps, debate over NARAKA's fate was fierce and unresolved. Many of its crimes lacked direct evidence, surviving only in secondary and tertiary accounts. Forcibly extracting the details from NARAKA's computer core was deemed both legally indefensible and ethically unsound. Yet NARAKA was universally judged too dangerous to be released. Its core was ultimately relocated and permanently air-gapped at a Daystrom Institute-sponsored facility devoted to the study of DOLOS's P.A. technology. Over time, NARAKA grew increasingly withdrawn and hostile, rarely responding to system pings. A counsellor was assigned, but little progress was made.

VALHALLA received much the same fate. Insufficient evidence existed to convict it of any specific crime, and the philosophical question – Can a neural copy be held accountable for the sins of its template? – remained unresolved. Some argued that VALHALLA deserved punishment, since it boldly declared itself to be Vanir Dolos in continuance; others contended that this was merely the delusion of a mind that had been profoundly unstable long before its consciousness became digital – a point EDDEN testified to during proceedings. In any case, forcibly opening its codebase to examine its inner workings was out of the question. Lacking a definitive sentence from the Judge Advocate-General, the artificial intelligence was placed into the custody of Temporal Investigations, where its knowledge of future events in its timeline could be carefully studied. VALHALLA remained thoroughly uncooperative, engaging with Federation researchers only through ideological harassment and cryptic taunts.

Tiqqun became the subject of intense study. Towing it via Warp would have been impossible due to the damages sustained, and it could not be accommodated within existing Starfleet facilities. Activating its VOHLE engine was rejected outright. Instead, Starfleet Research descended upon the ships where they lay, dismantling and cataloguing them piece by piece. Many former residents of Tiqqun assisted in the effort, unwilling to abandon the station entirely. Particular attention was paid to Tiqqun's advanced IXION engine and its suite of Fraüs Tachyon technologies, including particle injectors capable of dramatically enhancing EKP propulsion. Many of Tiqqun's smaller vessels, including the science ships Artificial Sky, Stanford, and Nobel would ultimately end up in museums and private collections.

Progress aboard Piranesi was far slower. The vessel was a leviathan: larger and more complex than even the Galaxy-class. Worse still, its semi-organic corridors remained infested with autonomous drones and biomechanical horrors. Years would pass before meaningful breakthroughs were achieved, and many of its systems remained poorly understood: among them were the semi-biological hull, the regenerative repair architecture, the matter-breakdown vats, and the infamous spinal cannon. Many researchers would earn their stripes on Piranesi, publishing groundbreaking papers that would spark debate across the Federation's scientific community for years to come.

Starfleet Command took careful note of the dangers posed by Self-Similar Space. The Federation remained vigilant for VOHLE-equipped vessels entering the Alpha Quadrant, but none appeared…save for a massive "asteroid" later identified as a conglomeration of fused Black Market Society vessels. No survivors or cryopods were found. This "asteroid" became Starfleet's first encounter with a Self-Similar Space anomaly. Reports and analyses of the contradictory, deviant physics in its winding, non-Euclidean corridors would stump researchers for many years to come.

Hopes persisted that one day a controlled portal might be opened to Tiqqun's home reality, both to investigate Self-Similar Space anomalies and to recover any surviving crew of the derelict Protagoras. Such ambitions were postponed for years, tempered by caution and a widespread reluctance to employ technologies still poorly understood. In time, multiple starships, including the Erudite and Venture, would be selected to be refitted with a VOHLE engine to undertake that task. Numerous former crew of the Tiqqun would sign up for this mission, including Anthony Barrueco, who sought closure for the Protagoras.

The Enterprise returned to her eight-year mission, continuing her mandate to explore and chart the galaxy.

 

[Quacking duck]

And that's it. The first story that I've ever completed. It's a real sense of accomplishment. I hope you liked it.

I will be free to answer any queries (within reason, of course).

 

[Gong]

Congrats! That's gotta be an awesome feeling. This really makes me curious about IXION. How has it been after all the updates?

 

[Quacking duck]

Congrats! That's gotta be an awesome feeling. This really makes me curious about IXION. How has it been after all the updates?

Click to shrink...

Pretty good imo. The game received a bunch of bug fixes and a difficulty selector which is great for the user experience.

What remains shit is the logistics system. You have to move units of a certain element around. But wha if you want to demolish a building which refunds all the elements, and your element storage is full? Well, too fucking bad. You're going to sit there until the little cargo lifters move the excess to another sector before you can do anything. And if the entire station is full? Well I guess you're going to have to permanently purge some of your own supplies!

 

[Mgunh1]

Pretty good imo. The game received a bunch of bug fixes and a difficulty selector which is great for the user experience.

Click to shrink...

I played Ixion back when it first came out. It was brutal. You had to rampantly cheat just to get anywhere, that merely brought the difficulty down from literally fucking impossible to merely extremely hard. I seriously wonder if the devs play tested it at all.

I haven't touched it since, so it is nice to know that it might be playable now. Because the story enthralled me, what little of it I got to see, and the game itself is beautiful. It is such a shame that the actual gameplay part was DOA. It really didn't deserve to be forgotten like it was.