[hr][h1][center][color=a187be]Accidental Ishtar[/color][/center][/h1]
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[i]This isn’t Sol.[/i] Psi-Gauss frowned at their internal navigational display, folding their arms and taking a moment to look out of one of the ship’s external monitors. Sure didn’t look like Sol either. [i]Something’s gone wrong with our gateway jump.[/i]

The rest of the Collective rapidly began to confer upon what the ship could do. The vessel had no name- it was a basic science vessel that had had several missile launchers clustered together to serve as a makeshift gunboat. 

It seemed prudent to at least investigate the system they were in and discover where they had ended up first. The gateways had yet to open to an uninhabited system, so surely there would be a nation here, perhaps undiscovered, to communicate with. If there had truly been an issue and they’d been sent into deep space, well… The Consciousness could always accept more Transcended. It would be dignified.

Before they did anything rash though, they broadcasted a wide-frequency message. As was standard, they sent it in several different languages and communication types- English, Mandarin, Spanish, Hindi, Esperanto, and once the basic greeting had been complete, powered up their engines and began to leave the orbit of the moon they had found themselves in.

[hr]

Confusion reigned aboard countless vessels and observation stations throughout the Commonality of New Ishtar. Almost instantaneously after the reception of the broadcast, the information had disseminated through the net from the ship-minds and currently connected observers. Within an hour, nearly every waking soul was aware of the news. Furious debate erupted between billions of minds connected to each other - what to do?

Aboard the battleship [i]Solstice[/i], one commander took her own initiative, announcing her intent to respond to the broadcast, and daring any to oppose her. Several voices rose in protest - and were countered by many more. A tumult arose in support of her.

Sister-Captain 132 Yirata Loves The Touch Of Steel raised a hailer to her lips, clearing her throat before she spoke, in thickly accented, poorly practiced Esperanto. 

“Are you human?”

They had received a response! Wonderful! They could work with Esperanto. The message quickly came back in response.

“Biomechanically augmented, but underneath the metal we’re still Earth’s Children. We hail from the Zeta system, if you’ll permit us aboard, I’m sure we’ll have much to discuss. Please, pay no attention to the weaponry affixed to this vessel, this is an outdated research ship retrofitted for patrol duties.”

The response was some time delayed. Long enough, almost, for the Zetans on board to assume their message might not have been received at all. That it had been lost amidst the other traffic that no doubt filled the air. But the message came, in time. The same speaker’s voice, quaking with emotion. 

“Then we are not all that is left?”

The Zetans aboard the small craft were more than happy to shine hope to this previously isolated nation. “We are but one of many that have survived the collapse of our old home. Now that the Gateway is open, you should send an envoy to the Sol System. There is an intergalactic council of nations there.”

It was followed by another, almost identical, voice, somewhat more restrained, but still shaken. “Yes, please. We will send a vessel of our own. Our world is… harmful to unadapted humanity.”

A third voice chimed in, likewise nearly indistinguishable. “We will need to convene on the matter of a delegation. This is… a momentous occasion.”

Three identical voices had come through the communications network, and already a few of the members of the Collective were mentally glancing at each other. One other nation had had a similar diplomatic quirk, and that nation was currently… well, the less said about The One, the better. Still, nothing was said, even as they began to make their way towards where the messages had been broadcasted from.

A civilian vessel was hastily commandeered, its dining hall forced into some vague approximation of something the people of New Ishtar had long assumed they might never need again - a diplomatic space. Flanked by two small craft, it approached the Zetan vessel through space, drawing to a halt some distance away as its crew stared in wonder and awe. 

“Welcome aboard, Zetans. Please, forgive our… forgive the unorthodox nature of our ship. We are unprepared for this entirely.”

Aboard the vessel, a small honor guard of uniformed and helmeted Ishtari soldiery waited, unable to maintain composure in such circumstances. At the head of the large table within sat three individuals, chosen after a rapid and furious vote within the Commonality. Sister-Sage 43 Sachiko Treasures The Beauty In The Universe,  Sister-Soldier 138 Istir Holds Firm The Readied Sword, and Sister-Sage 192 Scheherazade Dreams Of Many Great Things.

The Zetan delegation made its way aboard the vessel curiously. At its head was their Naval-Speaker Iota-Clausewitz, (what other nations would call Captains, but as Zetans had a very different military structure, it was hardly an apt comparison,) Navigational Specialist Psi-Gauss and a third non-transcended member of the crew, one Omicron-Kappa. Flanking them were two light warforms, rifles held calmly at their sides as the crew of the retrofitted vessel left the comfort of their ship.

The message that ran through the Collective now was accompanied by a groan. [i]More clones.[/i] They could only hope that these were not quite as peculiar and… Disgustingly, [b]cannibalistically[/b] callous as The One. “Hail,” Iota-Clausewitz declared, splitting their hand apart in the salute that the Collective still used whenever they first addressed foreign nations.

Despite the lack of transcendence however, there was little suggesting that these Zetans were all flesh. Iota-Clausewitz had two metal legs and a visage that had been crafted to look like a chrome mask, most of Psi-Gauss’ left side had been deliberately made asymmetrical, and Omicron-Kappa’s arms almost jarringly transformed to robotic facsimiles at the shoulder. Unlike Sigma-Devi, none of these Zetans had been selected for the perfect blend of natural beauty and light augmentations that the Collective had determined would make for the best impression, leaving them feeling distinctly [i]awkward[/i] about their bionics for the first time in their lives.

“To which nation do we have the honour of first contact?”

There was silence for a moment, interrupted only by the occasional sound of an Ishtari soldier struggling to maintain composure amidst the scene. The three women assembled at the head of the table rose - one leaning on the one who stood beside her for support. 

Istir moved to speak, and was cut off by a raised hand from Scheherazade, who nodded to the Zetans - even as hints of tears glistened in her own eyes. 

“People of Zeta, it is… an honor and a delight I cannot properly express to welcome you. Our people - our nation, we are The Commonality of New Ishtar. We…” she trailed off, for once, for the first time in perhaps a century, at a loss for words. “We feared that we were all that remained, after the Gateway collapse.”

The Collective had tuned into this meeting, and even now, a twinge of sadness ran through Zeta. They too had had a similar feeling when the Gateway had flared to life and they had found others, but whilst theirs had been the simple joy of discovering they were not the last, it seemed to have struck a deeper chord with these New Ishtarians. “The Zetan Consciousness is always glad and eager to have discovered another wayward branch of humanity. Our colony was founded to shine a light into the future- each nation we discover is a validation of the trust our ancestors placed in us.”

Even if they were clones.

She paused, “And - may I have the honor of knowing your names? If indeed you use them? I am Sister-Sage 192 Scheherazade Dreams Of Many Great Things. Beside me is Sister-Soldier 138 Istir Holds Firm The Readied Sword.” A heaving sob came from the woman whose face was buried into her arm, “And this is Sister-Sage 43 Sachiko Treasures The Beauty In The Universe.” She smiled, choking back a similar reaction. 

“I am Iota-Clausewitz, Naval-Speaker of the vessel we just departed from. This is Psi-Gauss, Navigational Specialist, and this is Omicron-Kappa, one of the vessel’s engineers.” The names of the clones told them quite a lot about their society- likely religious, almost certainly militaristic, but, perhaps there was something of Matuvista there, with ‘Treasures The Beauty In The Universe?’ They appeared to have some amount of individuality to them, unlike The One.

“These other two are remotely controlled defensive marine combat warforms.” The standard lie that Zeta had repeated so many times. Transcendence was not to be shared.

Scheherazade nodded. “Well met, Iota-Clausewitz.” She nodded to the other two, “And likewise, Psi-Gauss, and Omicron-Kappa. We welcome you, once again.”

Istir spoke up. “These are magnificent cybernetics your people have developed, Naval-Speaker. Exceeding our own, even.” She, herself, smiled - showing no hints of the tears that welled within the eyes of her comrades. “And such magnificent robotics. To think your people took such a different path than our own for survival in the void, simply fascinating. How [i]did[/i] you survive? Our vessel was a generation ship. Did the Gateway Collapse not affect your own people as long?”

“Thank you. Clearly your own biological adaptations have been notable as well- there are some newcomers in the Meeting Place who seem to have gone down similar lines, but most of those who survived are relatively unchanged from the same humans that left Earth some three hundred years ago.” Iota-Clausewitz’s mask pulled itself into a smile, then a confused frown. 

“As long? Well, of course, ours opened before yours did, but that is neither here nor there.”

Scheherazade frowned at her. “My apologies for her, but I admit I am curious myself. We… suffered tremendously within its grasp. As you can see. How did you avoid the mutations?”

The crew turned to glance at each other, mentally communicating. None had wanted to acknowledge the peculiar growths from the skulls of the clones. They had assumed doing so would be rude.

“Our new home planet of Zeta-5 has subjected us to an uncomfortable level of mutation thanks to ionizing radiation, which we combatted through widespread augmentation and the founding of subterranean cities, insulated away from such energies.”

A muffled sob, followed by a simple nod, was Sachiko’s addition, as the woman struggled to maintain control of herself.

“Three hundred years?”

“Just over three hundred, yes.” Psi-Gauss decided it best to not go into the hyper-specific time details.

Istir and Scheherazade shared a look. A look of immense confusion.

“No, no, we understand three centuries, approximately, passed within realspace. But… within… I do not know what your own people call it. We call it The Void. It… we assumed… we assumed the non-generation ships would have starved to death. That…”

Sachiko spoke up now, the same voice cracking with emotion. “We thought the others were  nothing more than cold coffins filled with skeletons and death. We thought that the last gasp of humanity had been extinguished in that hell. We thought we were all that remained. The last surviving remnant of humanity.” She smiled, bitterly, “Four billion souls all wearing the same face. Some cruel fucking mockery of the universe.”

“The Void?” The cyborgs frowned. “Our transportation was to the wrong system, but instantaneous… We may have had divergent experiences during the collapse.” Once again, the Zetan delegation felt rather too awkward to address the many, many questions that were brought up by the Ishtari.

“The Void.” Scheherazade’s words came in reply. “You… did not experience it? Our vessel was… I am not a scientist, I cannot truly explain it - but then, neither can the scientists. According to our surviving archives, it was as though the vessel was trapped outside of… outside reality itself for over five centuries. It was there we became what you see now.” 

“I can confirm we experienced nothing of the sort. The [i]Arkadios[/i] was a rapid transit colony ship, had we spent five hundred years in empty space, we would indeed be a… ‘cold coffin filled with skeletons and death.’ We had our own issues with the Gateways- as mentioned, we were translocated to the wrong system, one that was significantly less amenable to human life than we had hoped, but we were moved immediately. We had thought ourselves to be the only colony that experienced Gateway malfunction, the shutdown notwithstanding.”

The three sat silent, nearly motionless, for a time. 

The net was ablaze. Four and a half billion voices screamed out in a dizzying cacophony of outrage, joy, confusion, envy, and more. The three of them - connected to the net as they were, relaying every word that was said to their people as the discussion unfurled, were momentarily overcome by the reaction.

“F-forgive me.” Scheherazade muttered. “I… we… my kin are…”

“Feedback like that is normal. It’ll pass.” Istir murmured, patting her on the shoulder. “You try to stay separate from it normally, you’re handling it better than she is.”

Sachiko, indeed, had hunched over the table, hands clapped over her ears as she tried to drown out as much external stimulus as possible. The sheer blast of it nearly knocked her from her chair, and she waved a hand to the other two, resolutely screwing her eyes shut.

“This is… this news has caused significant uproar among the Ishtari populace.” Scheherazade said, once she had recovered somewhat. 

This time, it was the Zetans that couldn’t help themselves. Psi-Gauss’ face was practically radiant. [i]”You have a population-wide neural network integrated into your bodies?”[/i] The Collective roared with happiness and approval. Whatever tribulations these clones had gone through, whatever troubles they had faced, be it the ‘Void’ or their mutations, they had developed their own Collective.

Scheherazade nodded, a thin smile crossing her lips. “More or less, yes, we call it ‘the net’. It is… our minds are not [i]one[/i] - we were nearly destroyed by such a development. Twice. But we are close to each other. Individuals, certainly. Ordinarily, I cannot stand to be in the same room as Istir, here. But we reach a consensus together. We are all equals within it.”

A storm of votes went up in the Collective. Could they reveal their closely guarded secret? The motion passed back and forth a few times. Ultimately, the sad conclusion was that the cat was almost out of the bag already, and this seemed like too good an opportunity to make a connection to pass up.

“You cannot understand the joy that the Consciousness is feeling currently. The Zetan Consciousness is named as such not because we consider ourselves particularly moral, but because we are a [b]consciousness,[/b] multiple minds bound together using the processing power of half a billion minds, augmented by additional server support. Currently, you speak not just to us five, but to every Zetan, no matter how far they may be. And, just like you, we are all equals.”

Again, the three Ishtari were overcome for a time - but a shorter one, Scheherazade raising a finger with a small smile on her face as she waited for the uproar to die down. “And, likewise, you speak to over four and a half billion of our own. Most of them are happy. Some are confused. Some scared.” She smiled, “I count myself among the former, for what it’s worth.” 

“A moment - your Consciousness, it is not biological? It is technological?” Istir spoke up, frowning. “Then, those ‘remotely controlled defensive marine combat warforms’ - do they contain minds within them as well?”

Scheherazade’s attention roused, and she added her support. “If I may venture a theory - your organic forms do seem to age. If you have such technology, do you… transfer a copy of your minds to this Consciousness, come the end of your natural lifespans?” 

“Four and a half bi-” Iota-Clausewitz blinked a few times. Then, suddenly, the Ishtari came to a lot of very accurate conclusions very rapidly. They’d need to clear these up, and now.

“Indeed, you are quite right there. We neglected to mention that initially out of caution, but this is Gamma-Theta and this is Phi-Pasteur.” The two warforms gave crisp salutes to the Ishtari when they were introduced, quickly returning to their statue-still poses afterwards.

“As for transferral… No, nothing as crude as that. Our minds are constantly changing and adapting things, and with every change and adaptation, Zetan engineering ensures that our minds are slowly, carefully, etched over with chrome. Eventually, either I will replace all of this body’s flesh with steel, or the flesh will fail, and I will simply leave it behind. The result will be the same. Mortality is overcome.”

Debate raged again within the Ishtari net. What this meant. Were these warforms the same souls? If there was, as indicated by the Zetans, continuity of self - what did that mean?

Scheherazade smiled, once again. “This is… well, it’s controversial already, for sure. We use more… biological methods for immortality. But we are gladdened to see that more children of earth have overcome the chains of mortality as we have. Debates rage already. I am sure you understand.” She nodded to the warforms. “Well met, Gamma-Theta and Phi-Pasteur. Had we known, we would have provided you chairs as well. Please, if you wish for some, we are willing to accomodate you.”

Sachiko spoke up, finally coming to some measure of control over the chorus in their minds. “You seemed surprised, earlier. You were about to say four and a half billion. Is there something wrong?”

“Biological immortality? You’ve… Halted the deterioration of genetic code?” There was a long pause. “The ability to manipulate the building blocks of life on such a fundamental level… What an astonishing feat of science. Could you share more about how you’ve managed such a thing?”

The two warforms merely shook their heads when offered chairs, the rest of their bodies remaining eerily still. Psi-Gauss explained. “Light warforms are built to minimise much of the discomfort a biological body experience, and, as we are a recently-retrofitted naval ship, many of those crewing our warforms feel a particular urge to act rather… [i]Stiff.[/i] First-Speaker Sigma-Devi should really be the one to brief you on Galactic History however. As for the four and a half billion, we were merely slightly astonished at the number. We believe that in terms of biological population, that places the Commonality as one of the largest nations in the galaxy that we are aware of.”

Scheherazade winced. “The scientists are now furious with me, forgive me - it seems I’ve given you a somewhat inaccurate depiction of things. Certainly - we greatly extended natural lifespan. This body would be expected to live for over a hundred and fifty years more unaided. What we have developed is… akin to a biological version of your own process. Essentially…” she paused for a moment, surreptitiously nodding as millions of thoughts raged within her mind, and a consensus formed on how best to describe the process.

“Take a look at the ship you are in. Did you see ports within the walls occasionally, as you walked through it?” Said Scheherazade. Not waiting for a reply, she continued, turning in her chair and pulling her hair to the side to reveal the neuroport at the nape of her neck. 

“We transfer our brains - our biological brains, neuron impulse by neuron impulse, to a biological neural net. Once a year, our bodies are…” she paused, “Remade? Digested and reformed? The body you are speaking to now is only a year old but my [i]mind[/i] is two hundred and thirteen. The numbers within our names indicate how many times we have undergone this process in our lives - plus twenty one years on-planet from infancy to adulthood.” 

“You have trusted us with your own information, which is why I am willing to divulge this to you now. There are many who oppose it - but I, and most of our number, think it best to be open with your people.” 

The Zetans tried very hard to keep the horror off their faces. They managed to succeed. It was not that they were opposed to others finding alternate pathways to immortality, but the idea of repeatedly [i]’digesting’[/i] living bodies to form fresh ones struck a disturbing chord within the Collective. 

It was not altogether incorrect to call the Zetans a ‘sterile’ people. In many ways, that was what they were- a nation that left behind much of the ‘left side brain’ to embrace sleek, sterile technology. Zetan birth rates were extraordinarily low, and they had turned to AI to make up the shortfall. Such a… Burgeoning biological nation did not sit pleasantly with them.

Istir, for her part, had remained silent until now. “One of the largest, you say?”

“Most have less than two billion biological citizens. As mentioned, we have only slightly over half a billion. Previous largest are what we believe to be a pseudo hive-mind made up predominantly of clones, approximately 4 billion. Largest state that does not practice mass cloning is the Gran Republic of Matuvista, with over three billion citizens.” There was a long pause. “We would be most interested to see how [i]that[/i] interaction will resolve itself.”

Scherazade and Sachiko, for their parts, had noticed the reactions of the Zetans - and in unison they spoke. “Is something the matter?”

Internally, the Zetans wondered how to get themselves out of this situation. They decided that gentle lies would likely do the trick. “We were merely a little shocked at the intensely… Intimately biological nature of your technology. It seems rather unusual to us.”

The three stiffened at the words ‘pseudo hive-mind’. Scheherazade and Istir exchanged worried glances, Sachiko gritted her teeth, and began to stare intently at nothing in particular. The soldiers around them stiffened, many of them clutching their weapons instinctively. 

“A… a pseudo hive-mind, you say?” Scheherazade said, very, very carefully. “Four billion strong?”

“Entirely clones of a single individual, as best as we have been able to tell. They have… [i]Disturbed[/i] us. Their actions internationally have been scrutinised quite heavily.”

The net erupted in outcry. Four and a half billion voices cried out, almost universally, for blood. Fear. Fear rippled through their minds, and Scheherazade felt herself caught up in it, doing her best to maintain some form of composure.

“We cannot judge cloning, at least. We were forced into similar such circumstances by our entrapment within the void. The three of us are what we term the ‘Tiamat Strain’. We do not create adult clones, as it stands. All of us [i]are[/i] genetically more or less identical, it is true - but we grew from infants. Thus our individuality. There are numerous other Primary Strains amongst our people - but we Tiamat Strain account for approximately ninety-five percent. Her DNA was… uniquely suited for modification and cloning? Our lack of genetic variation is not intentional, I assure you.”

Istir interrupted her, finally raising one of her hands above the table to reveal a cybernetic fist, which she slammed into the table. “The Hive Strain nearly destroyed us twice! Tiamat herself was killed in action against them. Had we not destroyed them and the other Deviant Strains, we would not be here now! Another like it cannot be allowed to live! It is an existential threat to all life in the galaxy!”

Sachiko, for her part, seemed saddened. “I hate killing.” She whispered. “But you aren’t wrong.” She looked up to the Zetans - “I don’t know how much of this your people are sharing with the other nations - hopefully, none - but this stays here. Between our peoples.”

She lifted a small device in her hand, bearing a colored digital screen on which a [url=https://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/11/09/article-2230610-15F0B587000005DC-861_634x340.jpg]photograph of a Hive Strain specimen[/url] was depicted. 

“These… [i]things[/i] nearly destroyed us twice, like Istir said. They’re… they [i]were[/i] dangerous before we destroyed them. The five centuries aboard the ship were… hell. They were hell for our people.”

“We hope you offer us the same courtesy when it comes to our immortality, our, ‘transcendence,’ as we call it. We believe none others have realised. We have not even formally revealed our collective Consciousness yet, although many have made accurate theories as to its nature.”

Scheherazade nodded. “It shall not leave our lips. Your secret is safe with us. We are alike in many ways. We fully understand your desire for secrecy in this matter.”

The Collective had much to process now, but… There were individuals more suited to discussion than those on this small vessel. “Now that your Gateway has opened though, we should send forth to Sol. First-Speaker Sigma-Devi would be delighted to formally welcome you to the intergalactic stage.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Scheherazade said, nodding. “We ought prepare a more… fitting craft for the purpose, however.” She gestured to the haphazardly created diplomatic craft around them, repurposed from a civilian liner. “This would hardly do for galactic first impressions - and I suspect that the other peoples are not as open minded as yourselves. These… One, though. We will need to discuss them in greater detail.”

“The Gateway is fluctuating.”

Scheherazade’s eyes widened. Istir had spoken, tuned in to different currents of thought among the Commonality than she herself was.

“What?”

“The Gateway is fluctuating. The engineers are trying to stabilize it, but i-”

Istir was cut off as she winced, “And it’s closed.”

The Zetans paused for a long moment. They glanced at each other, even the normally-stationary soldiers moving to stare at the other Zetans. There was another long pause, and then the Collective confirmed. The Gateway had destabilised. There was a third long pause, and then Iota-Clausewitz turned back to the three clones. 

“Well. I suppose we have no reason not to become more acquainted now.”