Long since, Eti’s eyelids barred his mind from the blasé corpse-light of his prison. Possessed neither of darkness nor depth, the dingy walls metamorphosed betwixt antipodal chimeras of claustrophobia and agoraphobia. With vision, his mind reeled, severed from reality as a consequence of his synthesized empathy. Even so, blindness failed as a remedy, tortured as he was by unnatural stillness. He clung to gravity. Tepid, solid, the cell wall bowed his spine with a seamless curve that integrated ceiling with floor. Propped up with all the liveliness of a doll flung against a toy chest, an illusion heightened by the forward slump of his head that set chin to chest, his goal, unaware of how long he was to remain, became the preservation of energy. 

With the ease an actor exchanges Aeschylus’ masks, the silence faded. Subtle, but undeniable, his ears twitched, aroused by the faintest stimuli. In his mind’s eye, a memory of Potan Mul’s gardens bloomed. Eti stood on a balcony, gazed out across the moonlit splendor, and listened to the rain patter delicately on ferns. Stakes suspended wind chimes that sang a chorus of hollowed wood, metal, and stone. Beauty bred by power, it was a microcosm of Cizra Su-lahn and reflected the calmness of the temples in Samarra, the planetary capital.

Intrigued, his left eye rose. Geometry broached the nakedness of his enclosure. Pools of pitch caressed another’s edges, sourced from nowhere, yet swelled with the force of concentric rings born by each improbable drop. Inevitably, a crisp-edged wedge of darkness carved the vaguely luminous cell that imprisoned him, an opposite to what one might expect were a door to be thrown ajar. Ostensibly fixed after its initial parlay, Eti watched and waited for the precursor to mature. Ordinarily, the outcome would be predictable; however, as was his captor, so, too, were his own circumstances rather beyond ordinary.

Presently, the distinct flatness fumed, as might a mound of soot-veiled coals, and its aspect arose in tenebrous likeness to an inverse pyramid. Three meters tall and two wide, within its admixture of components, Eti detected tracers of inky blue-black orbiting clouds of metallic gray and blobs of restless ferrofluid. He recognized the form as that of a golem, mindless matter awakened to action by another’s will. Absent context, it easily may have been the thrall of any sorcerer, but he knew, without having asked, to whom it belonged. 

[i]“Before you is represented a token of the will of Ec-shavar, Governor of Q’ab and Ganaxavori, Sovereign of the surrounding system, and Lord of the stars that bleed their light throughout.”[/i]

As the hammer strikes the forge, sparks erupted from its epicenter, pursued closely by the din of metal on metal. An object clanged against the floor in front of him, warm from its recent ejection from the creature’s interior.

[i]“Your temporary identification. Insert it into your cognitive interface,”[/i] the golem chimed, its words, in contrast to its forceful bearing a moment prior, unsettlingly musical. Even its stature was diminished, as though, its heraldry accomplished, it relegated its energies inward toward less perceptible tasks.

Eti plucked the chip between two crimson-tinged claws and gave it a cursory glance. Streaks of silver in harsh geometric rigidity impressed the slate gray surface. It was an enslaver, although the variety or complexity of which he did not know. With a shrug of resignation, he realized that if Ec-shavar wanted to harm him it would already be so, although, in spite of that, he still hesitated to comply.

[i]“I will be kept in this chamber until I accept this condition?”

“That is accurate.”

“May I analyze the limiter?”

“You may.”[/i]

Permission received, he concentrated on the device. A band of light roved up and down its surface and his eye chroma shifted as he directed the multi-dimensional scan. While no surprises were evident, it didn’t contain any mutable properties, which, in turn, indicated it was virtually tamper-proof. Granted, an attempt to do so likely wouldn’t be favorable to his long-term prospects. Moreover, it function was such that it merely limited him to certain sectors of Zöld’nach and suppressed violent and subversive conduct.

In short, it was completely ordinary; akin to what a common thug might be implanted with while imprisoned. Whether such indicated his own unimportance or Ec-shavar’s ego, he couldn’t say.

[i]“How long?”[/i]

The golem remained silent.

Waiting was pointless, given his position, and Eti only hoped the predicament was temporary as he thrust the chip into a soft spot behind his ear where the adaptive architecture of his skull formed an ad-hoc interface with which it connected the chip to his cognitive processes.

[i]“Follow.”[/i]

The thing drifted along at a leisurely pace as it led him through the compound. They passed numerous golems, ais, and even some organics; most mindless drones, but a handful doubtless victims of forced service. Presently, they arrived in a dimly lit chamber with a tinted viewport that overlooked the caldera. As always, a strata of ever-present steam nearly obscured the spaceport, almost a kilometer distant at the caldera’s center.

Behind Eti and the golem, the door slid to a silent close, as, too, did the cover of the viewport before them.

As he soaked in the chamber, Eti realized that, even by Cizran standards, it was exceptionally opulent. However, what impressed him the most an almost shrine-like alcove that dominated the space. Within it was an engraving. Certainly not of Cizran origin, Eti wondered whether it might be a restoration or reinterpretation of Qush architecture, although none with which he was familiar. No, he decided, it was far too ancient for their evolutionary record to claim. The central feature of the cosmic backdrop was a single star going nova. Spears of radiation erupted from its poles, slicing the scene in half, while its exterior billowed forth a cloud that exposed in vibrant shades of magenta and ultramarine the destructive wave of otherwise invisible destruction. It was a force in the verse that nothing could survive. Yet, as he peered closer, to his amazement he observed shadows; not indistinct, but of silhouettes eerily familiar. One shade, in particular, boasted its intimacy, as his by proxy was the religious election of Potan Mul. There was no logical explanation as to why such an entity should be represented in this particular work, but there was no doubt that he saw Tsathoskr depicted therein.

Eti Naris shook his head, bewildered. For a moment, he felt he was there, adrift in cold vacuum, not warmed, but rent, by energy of a star’s death. Gods vied for a soul he felt he did not possess, drank in devastation, and exulted in—in what?

Entropy. 

[b]Chaos.[/b]

[i]“Ordinarily,”[/i] the golem rang, [i]“purpose-tainted mechanizations such as yourself are destroyed. However, you are the heir-apparent of member of the upper-caste.”[/i]

Jarred back to the present, Eti saw a shape arise from the base of the shrine and position itself opposite them behind a massive shalam slab that functioned as a desk. Although the figure remained cloaked, he felt its presence, and realized who it was.

[i]“The estate your mistress formerly possessed cannot be allowed to descend into ruin. Neither can you properly take possession of it without the support of an upper-caste executor.”[/i]

There was a pause, as if to let the weight and implications of the statement sink in.

[i]“A delegation representing our interests is to return to the homeworld and educate our supporters as to the growing importance of stability in this sector. Along with them will be sent some regional flora and fauna, archaeological and geological novelties, trade sundries, and a handful of dissidents. You and your small vessel shall be included in the transmission. There, our representative will claim, on your behalf, your former mistress’ holdings, and place them under our protection.”[/i]

His fur bristled and Eti blurted out, [i]“I would become your property!”[/i]

The monotonous notes of the golem chided, [i]“It is already so.”[/i]

Another pause, this time tinged with the illusion of sympathy, then it added, [i]“Within the imperial core and upon the estate grounds on Cizra Su-lahn, you would be indulged as a socially elevated entity and afforded autonomy sufficient for self-deception.” [/i]

Against the backdrop of rough-hewn shalam, a tile was illumined. It displayed a contract wherein he would be signing away his mistress’ estate and accepting his role as the property of another. He merely needed to enter the access code, which Ec-shavar knew he possessed from his mind-scan, and apply his improvised bio-signature.

Eti didn’t have a choice.

[center]. . .[/center]

For planetary impactors, mass multiplied by velocity represents their potential for devastation. That cold fact confers a substantial risk, mitigated, in part, by the observational satellites of the Cizran defense network. Collated on the homeworld of Cizra Su-lahn, mobile observatories track the speed, mass, and direction of quadrillions of objects in the night sky, some merely motes of dust. Far-flung outposts, such as Kilamara, are no exception as beneficiaries of this vigilance.

At least, inasmuch as it is convenient.

As a wake of ionized gas traced a scar in the void and its superluminous provacateur resolved to pierce Kilamara’s atmosphere, the [i]Dira Var-sha[/i], a Cizran dreadnought on patrol in the sector, drifted into orbit a million kilometers off the system’s gravitation center. No effort was exerted to warn the natives of the impactor that, minutes later, struck; the contentious wretches were considered unfit for cultivation as a civilization. Moreover, the object itself was queer; small, fast as light, and erratic in its trajectory.

Aboard the vessel, scientists surveyed their sensors and data feeds, saw the atmospheric breach, and were subsequently perplexed by the lack of destruction.