(From)
First Contact - Hyperians
Book Six
Chapter One
The vast Alliance fleet drifted like wounded leviathans in the black. Thousands of ships, from sleek scout vessels to massive Galaxy Class Warships, bore silent witness to the strange calm that had settled after the chaos. But the stillness was brittle, hanging thick with tension.
View screens flickered weakly across the bridge of the flagship Protector. Static and warped images replaced usual sensor feeds. The starfield itself seemed warped, as if reality had been stretched and bent into unfamiliar shapes. Gravity rippled, like unseen waves pressing against the ship’s hull.
Admiral Robert Chris stood rigid, staring out into the void. His eyes tracked the flickering outlines of vessels, some of which were twisted, others folded in on themselves like origami undone. Hulls that had, moments ago, been reported as destroyed appeared suddenly intact, yet eerily silent. The entire fleet seemed caught between two worlds: the nightmare of destruction they had lived through, and the startling truth emerging that none of it was real.
The Hyperians had not only made everyone in the fleet relive the Asgardian attack in their mind’s eye, but they had also made them imagine a similar attack on their fleet here at Antillia.
Robert’s gaze swept the bridge, locking briefly on each of his senior officers. Commander Bryon Allen sat quietly, jaw clenched, fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the armrest. Lieutenant Tran Lee’s face was pale, eyes darting between sensor readouts as she fought to make sense of conflicting data.
Robert’s throat tightened as he realized that all of them had to bear this burden… this invisible wound. The Hyperians had not just attacked ships or bodies. They had invaded minds, and now the invisible scars were spreading through his command like poison.
“Status reports,” he finally said, voice low but steady.
Bryon looked up, and his eyes were sharp despite the exhaustion. “Sensors are operational, Sir, but the readings remain erratic. We’re seeing hulls that should be compromised, based on earlier reports, and yet they are fully intact.”
“The physical destruction we witnessed was an illusion,” Robert murmured. “They wanted us to believe we were broken. We aren’t broken or defeated. At least, not yet.”
He turned back to the viewport. The stars outside were sharp and clear now, but inside the fleet, doubt lingered like a ghost. The real battle begins in the mind. This was a new kind of foe… a new type of enemy. How do you fight something or someone that you don’t understand?
***
Commander Brynn Valek gripped the arms of her chair as alarms screamed. The Dauntless had been locked in a seemingly endless battle of light and shadow, her crew battered by a torrent of images. All around her were flashes of exploding planets, cities folding into gravity wells, the screams of billions.
Now, the bridge was eerily quiet. The emergency lights bathed everything in cold red. Her Captain, Matt O’Malley, lay in medical, comatose. His mind was lost in a nightmare that she had also witnessed.
Somehow, she was able to keep her wits about her. She prayed her Captain would recover. The doctor wasn’t able to tell her one way or the other. Outside, the stars looked sharp and untouched. She blinked, her mind struggling to reconcile what her senses were telling her.
“Sensors are back online,” the science officer announced hesitantly. “No structural breaches detected. No hull integrity loss. No crew casualties... despite the visuals.”
“Don’t you consider the captain a casualty?”
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. That was a poor choice of words. There are many injuries, and nine people who are mentally incapacitated. What I meant to say is that we had no deaths from the… whatever that was.”
Brynn shook her head. “All of it felt so real. The fear. The pain. The loss.”
She glanced around at her crew, faces pale, eyes wide. Some stared blankly ahead, while others clutched the edges of consoles as if holding onto sanity itself.
Back on the Protector, Robert received a short comm from Brynn. Her voice was strained but firm.
“Admiral, the Dauntless survived. No one is dead, and no serious damage to the ship. But the crew… they’re rattled. It’s not just physical recovery… It’s like we’re fighting shadows.”
Robert closed his eyes for a moment, the mental fatigue pressing in like gravity.
“I’m curious, Commander. Why are you reporting this, instead of Captain O’Malley?”
“Captain O’Malley is in medical, Sir. He’s comatose. The doctor isn’t sure what to do. He has no physical injuries. I actually have eight other crew members in the same condition as the captain.”
Robert thought about that for a few moments before replying, “This attack was designed to break us from within. Not just our ships, or our bodies, but our resolve.”
“How do we combat something that can alter our perception of reality, Sir?”
He straightened. “We will not give them that victory. Organize counseling and debriefs on your end. We fight the mind now, Brynn… and that means we fight together.”
Ellie’s holographic form appeared quietly at his side. “There’s growing confusion in the fleet, Sir. We need a rally point. Something real for the crews to hold onto.”
Robert turned to her, his jaw tight. “Then we give them what actually happened. No spin. No guesswork. Just the truth.”
“How do we do that. We all saw something different.”
Robert smiled and said, “We fight this with our minds. Lieutenant Hickory!”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Send the following out to every ship in the fleet. I want every crew member to make a report of what they felt and saw during the attack. They are then to make another report detailing what was real and what wasn’t real, based on what they see and feel now.”
“Aye, Sir.”
Ellie was confused and asked, “What will that accomplish, Sir? You’re making them all relive the nightmare over again in their minds. Isn’t that risky?”
“I don’t believe so. It wasn’t real. They know that it didn’t happen, but it’s lingering in many of their minds. By going through the exercise, especially the second part, where they report the reality, they will realize that it was just a bad dream and not the nightmare that it seemed to be. We can’t let these Hyperians frighten us into inaction.”
***
Doctor John Swann’s hands trembled as he moved among injured crew members, many unconscious or trembling with shock. Strange psychosomatic wounds, nerve pain with no physical cause, plagued many of them.
He had treated dozens who insisted they had lost limbs, only to find every appendage intact. Others described horrific burns or crushing injuries that vanished under examination. John would watch as a crew member’s arm or leg would miraculously reappear right before his eyes.
John’s voice was calm but firm. “You’re safe. You’re alive. This was an attack of the mind.”
One sailor, wide-eyed and shaking, whispered, “But I saw my ship blow apart. I heard the screams. I felt the heat.”
John knelt beside him, voice soft. “It wasn’t real. The Hyperians didn’t kill us. They tried to break us.”
“But it was real, Doc.”
“Listen to me. Do you have any burns on your hands or arms?”
“I did. How did you heal my burns so quickly?”
“You were never burned, ensign. It was an illusion.”
“It seemed so real, though.”
“I know. I’ve watched people come in here missing arms and legs, and when I turn away to get an instrument to stop their bleeding and turn back to them, their injuries no longer exist. It’s affecting my mind, too.”
“How do we know that I’m not injured. The healing could be the illusion, Doc.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it. They are trying to frighten us, and you’re letting them win. Fight them with your mind, ensign. Keep reminding yourself that the injuries and the destruction weren’t real. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try…”
“That’s good. It’s a start. I’d like you to go over there and sit with the others and tell them what they remember happening wasn’t real. Be the rock they need, ensign.”
“I can do that, Doc. I need to do something.”
“Excellent. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
As the ensign walked away, Doctor Swann thought to himself, “How do I tell the real injuries from the illusions? This is a nightmare.”
***
Later, in the officers’ mess, Robert sat across from John Swann. The doctor’s usually steady hands nervously drummed the table.
“We’re seeing trauma unlike any combat wounds,” John said quietly. “It’s psychological. This illusion has left scars that no med kit can fix.”
Robert nodded slowly. “The mind is as much a battlefield as space itself. We need to prepare our crews for that.”
John sighed, rubbing his temples. “And yet, how do you fight an enemy that invades your thoughts? I’m not sure we’re ready. I know I’m not.”
Robert’s voice was steady but fierce. “We will be. Because we have to be.”
“I saw your order to report what they experienced during the battle and what they feel and see now. That will help many of them, but not all. Some of my patients still insist the healing is the illusion, and that they still have the injuries that they experienced.”
“I also understand that we have quite a few crew members in comas. What are we going to do about those?”
“For right now, I’m keeping them in comas, until I get the waking ones sorted out. I’m swamped, Robert. This is the first break I’ve taken in over thirty hours.”
“Are you still seeing illusions, Doc?”
“No, thankfully. According to Ellie, over ninety-five percent of the people I treated for physical injuries were never injured in the attack. I actually broke one man’s leg attempting to set it. His leg wasn’t broken at all. It was all an illusion. It was in my mind.”
Robert shook his head and lamented, “I’m not sure how we fight something like this.”
“It’s definitely a sticky wicket, isn’t it?”
“Yup. If you come up with any ideas, I’m all ears.”
“You have my word. If I think of something to fight this, I’ll definitely let you know.”
***
Captain Grolak stood on the bridge of his flagship, the Sheldra. His massive claws rested on the railing as he surveyed the battle-scarred hull of his ship. Deep gouges and twisted plating told a different story than the sensor readouts.
“Damage report!” barked his first officer.
“Minimal physical damage, Sir. But the crew’s mental state is... fragile. We’re getting reports of hallucinations, anxiety, and terror.”
Grolak growled low in his throat. “The Hyperians’ weapon is not destruction of the physical, but is instead, fear itself. They seek to destroy the mind, for the ship is helpless without minds to control it.”
He looked to the nearest viewport. Beyond, the stars shimmered normally, untouched by the chaos he had seen and lived in his mind’s eye.
Governor Z’tharr stood beside Grolak, the massive Graplian’s face etched with concern. He had returned to the Sheldra with Grolak after the battle had ended. They had both been on the Protector at the time of the attack.
“Our people are strong, but this… this is unlike any foe,” Z’tharr said, his voice a low rumble.
Grolak nodded. “They think if they break our minds, the war is theirs. But fear can be fought.”
Z’tharr’s eyes narrowed. “We will need to forge that strength. Together.”
Grolak smiled and asked, “Are you offering to be my second?”
“If you’ll have me, my friend.”
“Do you think the Admiral will want to release you from your duties on the Protector?”
Z’tharr grinned and said, “I have already brought it up, and he thinks I should command a ship again. However, I feel I can be best utilized here, by your side.”
“I agree. I’d be honored to have you as my second. Welcome back to the Graplian portion of the fleet, Governor.”
“Thank you. I’ll get you trained, if it’s the last thing I do.”
Grolak laughed and said, “Come now, Governor. No sense in being mean to your new superior officer.”
Z’tharr pounded his massive hand on his friend’s back and replied, “Aye, Sir. I’ll be mindful of who is in command here.”
***
Robert stood with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the darkened viewport as distant stars shimmered quietly beyond. The echoes of the Hyperian psychic assault still haunted his thoughts. Behind him, the door hissed open.
Princess Coralia stepped in, her movement hesitant but purposeful. Her skin shimmered faintly with residual energy, and her eyes… they weren’t tired, but instead Robert could see she was disturbed, or maybe focused elsewhere, as if listening to something no one else could hear.
“Princess,” Robert said without turning. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m not injured,” she answered softly, “but I’m not well, either.” Her voice carried a tremor, it wasn’t of fear but instead one of urgency.
Robert turned to face her fully. “Doctor Swann said your vitals stabilized after the attack. We were worried it would trigger another reaction due to your connection to the Source and ability to be connected to another’s mind.”
“It didn’t,” she said, stepping closer. “This… this is something else.”
He watched her carefully, noting how she kept glancing toward empty space, as though expecting someone or something to appear.
“I hear him,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Robert frowned. “Hear who?”
“Sustainer.”
Robert was concerned because the only way she could hear Sustainer was by use of the Source.
“He’s using the Source,” she continued, confirming his suspicion. “His presence is inside me again. I know how that sounds, Robert, but it’s not invasive. Not like before. He’s reaching out… calling to me.”
Robert exhaled slowly. “Coralia, after what we just went through, everyone’s questioning what’s real. We were also warned to cease using the Source. Sustainer’s endangering all of us, by communicating with you through the Source.”
“Actually, I can feel him calming my concerns. He isn’t saying it, but I know that the Hyperians can’t sense his use of the Source. I also know that I can’t answer Sustainer, because the Hyperians will be able to sense me using it.”
“How sure are you of this?”
“I’d stake my life on it, Sir.”
“You might be staking all of our lives on it, Princess.”
“I’m aware. I know that as long as I don’t reply through the Source, it is safe.”
“Very well. Just keep in mind that we don’t know how to combat the Hyperians yet.”
She nodded and then said, “Sustainer has also made me aware that these psychic intrusions are more than just illusions; they were precision strikes against our minds.”
Robert thought about that momentarily, then asked, “Are you sure this isn’t a leftover echo of the Hyperian attack?”
Coralia shook her head, voice low but resolute. “This wasn’t just an illusion, Admiral. Sustainer is revealing to my mind that it was a deliberate assault, and that it was targeted and precise for a reason. They weren’t just showing us fear or trying to frighten us… they were shaping our thoughts, undermining our sense of self. And he can’t explain the rest through the Source. I feel that the Hyperians can’t sense his presence, and he can’t risk them discovering him yet. That’s why he needs me back. He’s trying to protect me… protect all of us.”
Robert’s brow furrowed. “Why now, though?”
“I don’t know, but the urgency in his thoughts is clear. He says I’m not safe here. The Hyperians are still watching, and the illusion was only the first wave. He believes they’ll come for me directly next time.”
Robert’s jaw clenched. “And he wants you to hide inside his body again?”
“He says it’s the only place where the Source can be used to shield my mind entirely. He can protect me… teach me. I can hear the tapestry, Robert. It’s frayed and wounded. I’m not experienced enough to hide my connection to the Source.”
“That’s convenient timing,” Robert said, not unkindly. “You’ve just survived a galactic-scale psychic assault, and now the sentient moon wants you back inside him.”
She bristled. “Don’t make light of this. You’ve felt the Source. You know it’s real. Sustainer’s presence was the only thing that kept me from falling apart during the attack. He was there… whispering through the noise, guiding me out of the illusion.”
Robert stepped closer, lowering his voice. “What if this is how the Hyperians get to you, Coralia? What if they’re using Sustainer’s voice to lure you out? What if this isn’t Sustainer calling you? What if it’s the Hyperians?”
She paused. Her expression shifted… conflicted, torn between logic and instinct.
“I’ve thought of that,” she admitted. “But I know the difference. Sustainer’s presence is familiar… like a frequency only I can hear. The Hyperians? They were chaos in my mind. This is clarity. Robert, I have to go to him.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then finally nodded. “You’re not going alone. We’re going with you.”
Robert paced a few slow steps, then stopped and looked back at her. “If Sustainer can shield you from the Hyperians… do you think he could do the same for the rest of us?”
Coralia tilted her head, unsure. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, my senior staff. My ship captains and commanders. Our strategists. Everyone we rely on to plan our next moves,” Robert said. “If the Hyperians can reach into our minds, even just brush against our thoughts, then we can’t trust any plan we make out here. Every strategy, every defense, every countermeasure… It’s all compromised the moment we think it.”
She took a breath, absorbing the weight of his concern.
“I need a place where they can’t reach us,” he continued, stepping closer. “A place to think. To prepare. If Sustainer can shield you inside himself, maybe he can shield all of us. Not just from attack, but from being observed.”
Coralia considered it, her expression distant. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything about that.”
“Could you ask him?” Robert asked. “Not through the Source, though. I know the risk in that. But when you’re with him again. If we’re going to survive this… we need somewhere safe to plan. Somewhere, the Hyperians can’t listen in.”
She nodded slowly. “I’ll ask. If there’s a way… I’ll make sure he understands how important it is.”
Robert’s voice dropped to a murmur. “Because right now, Coralia… this war isn’t just about weapons or fleets. It’s about thought. And we’re already losing that battle.”
Thank you for reading this short excerpt from my book!
Scott Ickes
(From)
First Contact - Hyperians
Book Six
The wait stretched out, taut as a drawn bowstring. Every heartbeat in the chamber sounded too loud, too sharp, as though the air itself refused to settle. No one moved. They simply faced the silence, knowing the next voice to break it would decide the fate of millions or billions.
Every second that passed inside Sustainer’s vast living chamber felt stretched to the point of being elongated. Time was not slow, but sharp, like the ticking of an invisible clock that everyone present could hear but no one acknowledged. The chamber’s internal bioluminescence pulsed in a faint, steady rhythm, almost matching the tempo of the countdown Ellie was monitoring.
Robert stood near one of the gently curving walls, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on the image Sustainer projected into the air…the newborn moon hanging in the center of the broken Hyperian formation.
It drifted in perfect stillness, an iron shelled sphere lit by distant starlight, its presence reshaping the geometry of the void around it. Hyperian vessels hovered in chaotic, uneven arcs, some angled bow-first toward escape routes they had not quite committed to taking.
No one spoke for what seemed like an eternity, but was barely over a minute.
Even Grolak was silent. Z’tharr’s ears twitched occasionally, his attention flicking between Robert and the drifting fleet outside. Nolnac’s observed with his characteristic stillness. Coralia stood with her hands folded lightly in front of her, studying the Hyperian movement patterns with eyes that glowed softly in the chamber’s shifting light. Sustainer remained in his humanoid persona-form, motionless but somehow attentive in every direction.
Ellie alone did not need a body to be present—yet her voice, whenever it came, felt perfectly grounded in the space.
The seconds continued to stretch. Finally, Ellie spoke. “Thirty-one seconds remaining.”
Grolak let out a low grunt. “If they had any sense left, they would have answered by now.”
“Hyperians may not make swift decisions when under pressure,” Nolnac’s replied evenly. “They might believe they still control every situation, including this one.”
“They do not control this one,” Z’tharr muttered.
Robert did not turn toward any of them. His focus stayed on the moon and the scattering of ships around it. He was already preparing for what would come after the ten-minute mark. Whether it was silence, surrender, or attack he must be prepared to act swiftly, if needed.
The tenth minute slid toward its final heartbeat.
“Five seconds,” Ellie said quietly.
Even Sustainer’s avatar blinked.
“Four… Three.”
Coralia drew a slow breath.
“Two.”
The projected image of the moon glinted as a distant star passed behind it.
“One.”
Silence. A deep, stretching silence. And then… “Admiral Chris,” Ellie said, her voice shifting subtly. “Incoming communication. Hyperian source. Direct channel.”
Every head in the chamber turned.
“Put it through,” Robert said.
The air shimmered, not in illusion but in the focused lattice of Sustainer’s internal systems, forming a tight sphere of projected audio and limited visual distortion. The Hyperians did not appear as faces. They appeared as shifting geometric patterns—probably intentional, a part of their cultural identity, or perhaps another layer of obfuscation.
A voice emerged from the distortion. It was sharp, layered, and holding an authority that tried very hard to mask the tremor beneath it.
“Alliance Admiral. You stand accused.”
Grolak’s fur bristled, while Z’tharr opened his mouth, but Robert lifted a single hand without looking back. Silence fell instantly.
The Hyperian voice continued. “You have violated the Source. You have bent its flows in defiance of the Laws of Conduct set by the Hyperian High Council. These laws are recognized by all who understand the Source’s nature. Your actions were reckless. Dangerous. You have created forces you cannot control. These acts are forbidden.”
Forbidden. Robert let the accusation hang only for a moment. Only when the Hyperian voice fell quiet did he speak.
“Your threats are vague,” he said calmly, almost tiredly. “If you want to accuse us of something meaningful, be specific. What law? What violation? And what, exactly, do you believe we did?”
The geometric projection brightened, colors shifting violently.
“You know what you did. The Source fluctuated in unnatural spikes around your fleet in the moments before your second moon appeared. The same distortions preceded the catastrophic destruction of the first. And before that, your fleet moved with unnatural coordination, beyond what your species should be capable of managing. These are all signs of Source manipulation.”
Coralia tilted her head slightly. “They are guessing,” she whispered.
Nolnac’s nodded. “It’s worse than that. They are guessing incorrectly.”
Robert folded his arms. “Let me make something clear. The Alliance fleet did not use the Source to attack you. The moon you witnessed was peaceful in nature. It did not strike your ships. It did not damage them. It simply existed.”
A low, rippling wave of distortion pulsed through the Hyperian projection. Was it their way of showing anger, or maybe frustration? It was impossible to tell.
Robert continued, his voice cool and sharp. “In contrast, the Hyperian fleet attacked first. Your use of the Source injured thousands across our formation. Hundreds of our ships sustained damage. You have no standing to accuse us of wrongdoing when you were the ones who struck first.”
“You misunderstand,” the Hyperian voice snapped. “The Source is not yours to wield.”
“And yet you wielded it against us,” Robert countered.
A flash of light pulsed through the geometric patterns.
“You are children playing with a force that predates you.”
“We did not attack you with it,” Robert replied. “You attacked us.”
The Hyperian projection seemed to flicker in agitation. “The fluctuations! The moons! The sudden alignment of your vessels! These were not natural acts. They were… ”
“Let me stop you there,” Robert said. “What you are calling ‘unnatural’ is simply something you did not expect from us.”
Grolak barked a quiet laugh. Z’tharr managed to hide his smile.
Robert continued. “But the difference between our actions and yours is simple. We did nothing harmful with the Source. Nothing violent. Nothing destructive. We used coordination. Strategy. Technology. And the moons? They were demonstrations, not weapons.”
Nolnac’s added gently, “You are conflating your own interpretation of the Source with the laws you believe govern it. But those laws are Hyperian laws. They are not universal.”
The Hyperian voice dropped several tones, growing colder. “The Source is universal.”
“The Source may be,” Coralia said softly, stepping closer to the projection. “But your interpretation of it is not.”
There was another flicker… an indignant, unstable pulse.
“You will answer to the High Council for your violations.”
Robert raised an eyebrow. “Violations that caused no harm? Violations you cannot describe clearly?”
“You have no right,” the Hyperian voice snapped, “to manipulate flows you do not comprehend.”
Sustainer finally spoke. His voice was steadier than gravity. “They understand more than you believe.”
The Hyperian projection spasmed violently.
Sustainer continued, taking a single step forward. “And your kind understands far less than you claim.”
“Who speaks?” the Hyperian demanded.
“One who existed before your species crawled out of the ooze of creation on your home world.”
The projection dimmed, shrinking in on itself. “Impossible.”
Sustainer tilted his head slightly. “I am older than your Council. Older than your traditions. And I am the one who gave the Alliance the knowledge they required to see through your illusions. If you accuse anyone of violating your false laws, accuse me.”
“False laws?” the Hyperian repeated.
“Yes,” Sustainer said calmly. “The Source is not yours.”
Silence. It was a heavy, strained silence.
Then the Hyperian voice returned with brittle anger. “You admit involvement in these violations?”
Sustainer did not blink. “I admit involvement in teaching them reality.”
The geometric projection surged with sharp crimson spikes. “Then you admit responsibility.”
“I admit truth,” Sustainer replied.
The Hyperian voice sharpened. “Then understand this. The High Council considers such acts an abomination. You have disrupted the Source's balance. You have endangered the galaxy.”
Robert stepped in again, voice firm. “The only ones who endangered the galaxy are the ones who launched an attack using the Source. And that was you.”
“We defended ourselves,” the Hyperian said quickly.
“Against what?” Robert demanded. “A simple comm transmission requesting dialogue? We wanted to talk. You responded by injuring our people.”
“That transmission was a trap,” the Hyperian snapped. “A distortion. A deliberate attempt to weaken our illusions.”
“Your illusions were your choice,” Robert answered. “Your attack was your choice. Your silence was your choice.”
Z’tharr crossed his arms. “And now you blame us for reacting to your unprovoked attack?”
Nolnac’s spread his hands in a placating gesture toward no one in particular. “You appear to believe the Source bends only to you. Why can’t you believe that other species may one day understand it?”
Coralia nodded quietly. “Your fear drives your accusations.”
The Hyperian projection pulsed again. “We fear nothing.”
Grolak let out a deep, rumbling growl. “Your ships did. We watched as they fled a moon like a Quebbit flees from a Marnok.”
The projection dimmed. Despite not knowing what a Quebbit or a Marnok were, the comparison needed no translation. Then the Hyperian voice returned, softer, but more dangerous. “You have ten minutes to prepare yourselves. The High Council will deliberate.”
Robert narrowed his eyes. “Deliberate what?”
The projection expanded once more, geometric facets blooming outward like an unfolding crystalline flower.
“Whether you will be allowed to exist.”
Then the projection collapsed into nothing.
The silence that followed was the deepest of the day. Grolak broke it first. “I say we take that personally.”
Robert exhaled slowly. “I do.”
Ellie’s voice chimed into the chamber. “Admiral… They cut the channel completely. No telemetry. No power signatures beyond normal. They’re preparing something.”
Robert turned toward the projected image of the moon again, jaw tightening.
“They want to decide whether we get to exist?” he asked quietly.
Coralia stepped beside him. “They won’t decide that. You will.”
Sustainer’s persona-form took a breath that was not a breath. “The Hyperians do not understand what they have unleashed.”
Z’tharr nodded. “They attacked the Alliance. They angered all of us. They now threaten to destroy us.”
Grolak cracked his knuckles. “So we destroy them first.”
“No,” Robert said sharply.
Everyone turned to him.
“We don’t destroy them. We win. We end the cycle. We free our people, break their illusions, stop their aggression, and make them understand that the galaxy does not belong to them alone.”
Nolnac’s bowed his head. “Then the next chaper of this begins with a choice.”
Robert nodded. “And we’re going to make the right one.”
Ellie spoke softly. “The Hyperians have started their ten-minute counter timer.”
All eyes turned toward Robert. He straightened slowly, arms no longer behind his
back.
“Then let’s prepare,” he said. “They’re not the only ones who get ten minutes.”
***
Sustainer’s gaze lingered on the drifting Hyperian fleet, his luminous form still at the center of the chamber. His attention was not on the vessels themselves, but on the intricate currents of the Source that seemed to ripple and bend around them. Subtle threads of manipulation, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye, threaded through the Hyperian signals. He could feel the intent, the tiny distortions layered beneath the conversation that had just ended.
“Ellie,” he said softly, almost to himself, “do you detect the undercurrent in their words? The layers beneath the threat?”
Ellie’s voice came calm, precise, but with a note of intrigue. “I see it. Subtle distortions in the Source around the Hyperians’ communications. They attempted to make their threat seem more severe than it truly is. Their words are enhanced. Or… maybe warped intentionally is a better description.”
Sustainer tilted his head, the faint glow of his eyes deepening. “Yes… it’s layered and artificial. I believe it to be an attempt to make others perceive a conversation that did not fully occur. They wish to influence without revealing the full truth of their understanding.”
Grolak let out a low, puzzled rumble. “So, they were lying? Or tricking us?”
“
They were attempting,” Sustainer said slowly, “to guide perception. A kind of manipulation designed to obscure intent. But it will not work here. The VAILs see clearly. And these leaders, inside my chamber, are shielded from such illusions.”
Robert’s brow furrowed. “Then what does it mean? Are we safe?”
Sustainer’s voice softened even further, a musical ripple in the air. “Safe is a matter of perspective. You are shielded. You are prepared. But I feel… something familiar in their patterning. Something from long ago.”
Robert glanced at him, curiosity and caution mingling in his eyes. “Familiar… how? What do you mean?”
Sustainer did not answer directly. He allowed a pause, letting the tension stretch in the chamber. “It is not yet the time to speak fully. But it is imperative, Admiral, that when the Hyperians communicate again… when they have decided their course… I must be the one to speak with them directly. I understand more now than I did before.
I have ancient knowledge. It will be… revealing.”
Robert nodded slowly, though unease prickled at the back of his mind. “Understood. I trust you.”
The rest of the leaders exchanged glances. Coralia tilted her head, sensing the subtle gravity behind Sustainer’s words. “You are… not telling us everything, are you?”
Sustainer’s form shimmered faintly, a wry tilt in his luminous eyes. “Some truths are only understood when experienced directly. Let the moment arrive, and it will unfold.”
Sustainer felt something beyond the senses of everyone present, causing a faint tremor to pass through the living chamber. His attention drifted not to the projection of the fleet, but deeper, into the threads of Source-light that laced through the room like veins. He stood utterly still, though the air around him seemed to shift with an unseen current.
Ellie’s voice broke the silence. “Hyperian signal surge detected. They will open comms again within moments.”
Z’tharr crossed his arms, the plates of his Graplian uniform creaking. “It won’t be more threats. They’ll escalate. They’re cornered animals now.”
Grolak huffed, ears flexing back. “Cornered Hyperians—they’re worse than cornered animals.”
Sustainer did not move, but something about his posture seemed sharper… like a musician hearing an old melody beneath the noise.
“They are not cornered,” he murmured. “They believe themselves ascendant. They believe the Source bends by their decree, and that they alone interpret its will.” He paused, tilting his head as if listening to something far across time. “This… arrogance… is familiar.”
Robert stepped beside him. “And you still won’t explain how?”
“Because explanations delivered too soon are dismissed as fantasies,” Sustainer replied gently. “But when truth reveals itself in its proper moment… when their own reaction exposes it, you will understand everything.”
Ellie’s tone tightened. “Incoming Hyperian transmission. They are requesting to speak with the Alliance leadership.”
Sustainer raised his hand. “As I said. I will answer, with your permission, Admiral.”
Robert glanced at the others, then nodded. “Ellie, give Sustainer full comm control.”
“Done,” she replied.
The air in front of them shimmered as the Hyperian projection reformed: geometric layers, shifting, angular, bristling with restrained hostility. The patterns were more erratic than before as if agitated, confused, and full of conflict within their collective mind. They were not calm. They were not unified. Something had disturbed them deeply.
The Hyperians spoke first.
“Alliance vessel,” the layered voice declared. “We demand clarity before declaring our decision. Your fleet’s use of the Source is unlawful. It violates decrees set by the High Council. You will answer for these violations.”
Sustainer stepped forward, and the chamber responded subtlety… light drawing toward him in quiet spirals.
“I will answer,” he said.
The Hyperian projection flared sharply… shapes spiking outward in alarm. “You are not the leader of the Alliance?”
Sustainer let silence stretch. Not long. But long enough. Then he spoke with a gentle certainty that carried the weight of ages. “I am not. I am one of many. I speak for the leader of the Alliance.”
“If you are not the leader, then why should we speak with you?”
“If it pleases you,” he said, “you may call me Oru’Thael.”
The reaction was immediate.
The geometric projection fractured, lines splitting, oscillating wildly as Hyperian voices overlapped one another. For the first time, more than one Hyperian voice could be heard over the comm. There was shock, anger, and disbelief.
“That name,” the projection stuttered. “That is forbidden. That is sacred. You dare speak it? You dare claim relation to the divine?”
Sustainer’s smile was soft, almost teasing.
“I claim no divinity,” he answered. “Only memory. And truth.”
He leaned slightly closer, and the Source within the living chamber pulsed. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Sustainer was using the Source and his voice to communicate, so that the Hyperians would know he was ancient.
“For if you are Hyperians… then you are my children.”
The projection convulsed with disbelief and fury. Shapes buckled inward, then flared outward as their voices rose in overlapping confusion.
“You lie,” they said. It was heard and felt in multiple voices, both discordant, and desperate. “You speak the names of our myths. You twist our sacred history. You claim kinship where none exists.”
Sustainer’s eyes glowed brighter.
“This is no lie,” he murmured. “Only remembrance.”
The projection spasmed. It was a ripple of near panic.
“You cannot be Oru’Thael. You cannot.”
Sustainer’s expression softened with something like sorrow… and something like fondness.
“Then let us speak a while, my children,” he said. “And let us see what you remember… and of what you have forgotten. For you are The Hyreth. I was your teacher.”
And the chamber fell still.
***
A silence stretched across the comm channel again. It was starting to bother Robert, because the longer this took, the less time they had to save the cres of the non-VAIL ships.
The Hyperian projection hung in the chamber, rigid and still, as if every angle, every line, every pulse of light was waiting for the correct signal, or for the right word.
Sustainer’s glow dimmed subtly, his presence unyielding but patient. The silence was heavy and layered. It was not just the absence of sound, but the presence of histories and unspoken reckonings.
Finally, the layered voices of the Hyperians returned, hesitant and restrained. “Our High Council… must deliberate once again. The revelations… require discussion. What you state is not possible. We cannot speak further until this has concluded in our minds to our satisfaction.”
Sustainer’s luminous form pulsed with a faint, deliberate rhythm, and he leaned slightly forward, voice carrying the warmth of curiosity and command. “Is thirty minutes sufficient for your deliberations?”
The Hyperian projection shivered, the geometric lines folding inward slightly. Then a chorus, unanimous in its strange, layered cadence, replied, “Thirty minutes is… acceptable.”
“Very well,” Sustainer said, his voice soft but carrying authority. “We will await your decision. I look forward to clarity.”
The channel ended abruptly, leaving only the hum of Sustainer’s internal systems and the quiet of the living chamber. The Alliance leaders exchanged wary glances, uncertain of what had just transpired.
Coralia tilted her head, her eyes glowing faintly. “Sustainer… what did you just reveal to them?”
Grolak’s growl vibrated low in his chest. “You didn’t just tell them to call you by some ancient name, did you?”
Sustainer turned toward them, his eyes glimmering with unspoken depth. “I revealed a truth long buried, but carefully. Enough to rattle their perception of themselves, to remind them of what they once were, and what they could still be.”
Robert stepped closer, voice cautious but insistent. “Sustainer, I need more than that. I need an explanation now, please.”
Sustainer exhaled… or, rather, he made a motion that suggested exhalation… and allowed the faintest ripple to pass through his form. “The Hyperians,” he began, “were once a species of great promise. Before they reached the stars, before they built fleets and councils, I observed them… and I saw strength beyond what they themselves comprehended. Their minds were capable of miracles with the Source. So, I guided them, subtly, placing them on a path of enlightenment.”
Ellie’s voice hummed in quiet acknowledgment. “Enlightenment… for the Source?”
“Yes,” Sustainer said. “They were meant to be teachers. Guides to those who would one day discover the Source for the first time. They were to show, to instruct, to guide without domination. The Hyperians were set as priests, mentors… emissaries of peaceful application.”
Nolnac’s tilted his head. “And they failed?”
Sustainer’s luminous form dimmed slightly, a shadow of contemplation crossing the subtle contours of his avatar. “Something changed after my departure. The guidance I left behind was ignored or maybe forgotten. Possibly it was much worse and somewhere back in time it was corrupted. Instead of leading new species in harmony with the Source, they claimed dominion over it for themselves. They twisted the very principles I entrusted to them.”
Coralia’s voice was soft but pointed. “They became what we see now… dangerous, possessive, aggressive.”
“Yes,” Sustainer replied. “They abandoned the path. They became guardians of a false dogma, convinced that only they could interpret the Source correctly. And now, they see threats everywhere… even where none exist.”
Robert’s gaze hardened, snapping Sustainer back to the present. “Sustainer… I understand the history now, but the present is pressing. Our people on the non-VAIL ships are still in danger. Time is short. We can’t linger in the past.”
Sustainer nodded, his expression reflective but resolute. “I am aware, Admiral. And I assure you, I will conclude this… peacefully and swiftly. The truth will be revealed, the illusions addressed, and the Hyperians guided back to clarity… all within the bounds of reason.”
Coralia glanced at Robert and back at Sustainer. “And if they refuse to listen?”
Sustainer allowed the faintest hint of a smile, almost playful in its subtlety. “Then they will learn what they once were… and what they have forgotten. But I believe they will remember.”
Robert asked, “How are you so certain they will remember?”
“Because, I am Oru’Thael. I have power that you cannot comprehend. They will remember.”
Grolak’s low growl rumbled in anticipation. “I hope you’re right, Oru’Thael.”
Sustainer’s eyes gleamed briefly at the sound of the name, though he did not comment further. Instead, he turned back toward the drifting Hyperian fleet, threads of the Source already bending toward him, preparing for the next contact.
“Thirty minutes,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “Thirty minutes, and we'll see if my children will remember their parents’ lessons.”
The chamber fell into quiet once more, each leader holding their breath as the faint pulse of time ticked steadily toward the reckoning.
Thank you for reading this short excerpt from my book!
Scott Ickes