Chapter 175.5 (2/2)
It was genetic code written by the insane.
Even when digitized the genetic code snarled and raved, tried to mutate, tried to adapt to computer systems, hardware, operating systems, as if it was in the natural world rather than being examined in a computer system.
The loss of a few laboratories didn't matter, however.
It was to be expected when dealing with a feral species.
Normally, when the researchers were asked to examine a feral, upstart, young species that had appeared outside of the Great Project it was pretty basic. Protocol for examining a feral species was simple and basic. Examine the genome, examine the psychological makeup.
Gentle.
This species, though, it defied everything that the hundred million year old civilization could bring to bear.
But that was expected.
After all, the Lanaktallan Collective was at war.
It had no fear.
It would win.
It had always won.
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In the darkness between the stars they heard it. Psychic calls and warnings.
The slave species had erred. Allowed a feral sentience to rise up.
A sentience strong enough the challenge them.
Some of the younger ones recognized the psychic flavor of the feral species. It had been sampled before.
It had defeated them before.
The entities considered it. Examined the data. Tasted the psychic reverberations of the feral species. Considered the warnings and calls for aid and psychic links of information.
The new species could not be ignored.
The slave species, enslaved tens of millions of years ago when they were first discovered, could not be depended upon to defeat the feral sentience.
The entities reached out to one another, linking their minds.
It would require new genetic codes, new biological weapons, new creatures.
The entities knew that there was only one way to deal with the new feral sentience.
It didn't have a concept of war.
There was only eat or be eaten.
And they intended to be the ones eating.
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The warship had a name composed of binary. It was old. Older than even the Unified Civilized Council. It was the size of a small subcontinent, with miles worth the main gun batteries, shields strong enough to brush aside a small moon or obliterate a comet. Craters the size of small cities dotted its armor. Its engines were powerful enough to move its bulk at an acceleration of 0.07C.
It had wiped out a dozen sapient species, reduced a hundred planets to bare rock exposed to vacuum.
It had even driven both of the Creator Races away and fought the other machines to a standstill.
When the Hellspace rip opened it braced itself for the psychic scream that would announce the arrival. It readied its guns, loaded tens of thousands of magazines, and prepared its parasite and ancillary ships for combat.
THERE IS ONLY ENOUGH FOR ME!
The warship screamed at the interloper.
Instead of screaming back, the intruder sent back a stream of data.
The warship examined the data.
Battle plans, tactical plans, scans of warships, estimations of new technology.
The warship was ancient.
It was also intelligent.
It knew what the data meant as it reviewed the battle where 141 of the largest, most powerful warships were reduced to scrap. It knew as it viewed each battle, watched the mechanical casualties mount.
JOIN OUR ONE the interloper suggested.
I HAVE ONLY ENOUGH FOR ME! the warship answered.
THEY WILL TAKE IT OVER YOUR COLD MECHANICAL CORPSE! the interloper said. THEY ARE FERAL, VICIOUS, AND POSE A THREAT TO OUR SURVIVAL. JOIN OUR ONE. KEEP YOUR RESOURCES. WE WILL SHARE OUR RESOURCES WITH OUT ONE.
The warship considered it.
There was the chance of destruction. There was also the chance to gain resources beyond what it currently possessed.
I WILL JOIN YOUR ONE. the warship transmitted. WE ARE ONE.
WE ARE ONE. the interloper agreed. It transmitted coordinates, where others of its kind had staked out territory and resources. THEY WILL JOIN OUR ONE OR THEY WILL BE CONSUMED.
THERE IS ONLY ENOUGH FOR ONE. they both agreed.