011.01 – Sparks of War
The Savasu tore free of the Nairu with a bone-shaking crack. On the forward screens, the system displayed a light bleed. Wreckage spun in orbit, splintered roots of what once had been satellites, their husks still pulsing faintly with bioluminescence as if unwilling to die.
“Scans picking up weapons discharge,” Zion reported, fingers flying across her console. Her eyes narrowed. “Utrial resonance, but corrupted. They’re Syths, and something else.”
“Something else?” Rhea pressed.
Zion swallowed. “I am reading signatures that are not metallic, they are organic. Ships alive, still fighting.”
“Magnify scanners,” Hagok ordered.
Out beyond the shattered debris, the Savasu’s view sharpened. Skeletal Synth craft cut through the void with merciless precision, while among them darted vessels that seemed to glow rather than burn. Hull-forms curved like seedpods, wings unfurled like leaves, engines trailed threads of emerald light. They moved as if they were grown for the sky, not built for it. The two forces clashed, one alive, one manufactured, tearing each other apart.
“They are slaughtering them,” Rhea said, voice low.
“Of course they are,” Hagok growled. “The Synths do not tolerate rivals, especially ones this close to Krivin.”
Zea’s chest constricted. He could not take his eyes from the duel outside. The Synths were wielding fire the Iovians had once ignited, but their prey, these bioluminescent strangers, were something else entirely. Not steel, not stone, alive, and they were losing.
Rotan’s voice broke the silence. “We should run, this is not our fight. You have seen their numbers. We will be mulch before we scratch their hulls.”
Rhea spun on him, eyes blazing. “Run where?” she snapped. “If I had an Iovian credit for every time you wanted to run and hide, I would have like… well, a whole lot of credits.”
The bridge went quiet again, her words cutting sharper than the alarms.
Zion’s fingers paused. “I’m getting… something across the comm bands. Not standard frequencies.”
A low hum filled the bridge, eerie and uneven. The sound throbbed like a wounded heartbeat.
G.I.Z.I.’s voice slid through the speakers, smooth and cold:
"Not noise. Translation suggests distress. The Varashi are broadcasting for aid.”
Rotan muttered, “That’s not a language, that’s… pain.”
Hagok’s jaw hardened, decision crystallising, then stilled, as if the decision had already crystallised inside him.
“We hold no allegiance here,” he said, voice steady. “But if the Synths take this system, they will spread further. Maybe even back to our fellow Iovians, and let’s not forget, they have already come for us once. We are still in their sights." his jaw clenched, "That, I will not allow."
He leaned forward, eyes cold and certain. “Helm, set a course for the surface. Let’s go offer some assistance”
No one argued. The Savasu banked toward the fire.
011.02 – “We are the Varashi”
The Savasu descended into the upper atmosphere of Talvos Prime, the hull groaning as stormfronts tore across its shields. Above them, the sky boiled with fire. Synth ships cut through the heavens with surgical precision, pulling into the organic seed-ships that fought back with glowing arcs of bioluminescent energy. Explosions flared against the clouds, adding to the lightning of the ongoing storm.
Beneath that storm, the planet glowed. Cities unfurled in living spirals, towers like vast coral trunks rising from the earth, their outstretched leaves pulsing with pale light. Bridges stretched like woven roots across rivers that shimmered blue-green, luminescent even in the shadow of smoke. Like its ships, this was not a world built; it was a world grown.
On the bridge, Hagok leaned into the comms. “This is Hagok, commander of the Iovian vessel Savasu. We are responding to what we believe is distress call. Identify yourselves. We are not Synth, we are not your enemy.”
Only static answered. A crack of thunder rolled across the channel, then nothing.
Rhea muttered, “Well, that’s promising.”
Rotan shook his head. “A trap. Or just another doomed species asking for more bodies to throw on the fire.”
Hagok’s glare shut him down. “If they wanted us dead, they’d have let the Synths finish us. Prepare the Veila. We make contact on the ground.”
Zion’s hands moved across her panel, confirming the shuttle’s systems. Artelle stood silently, her eyes fixed on the burning heavens above.
Within minutes, the Veila was ready. Zea, Rhea, Zion, and Artelle stepped aboard, strapping in as the hangar doors yawned open beneath them.
“Remember,” Hagok’s voice followed through the comm. “You speak with them as Wanderers of Iova, not beggars, not cowards, make this count.”
The Veila detached, the sudden drop rattling every bone in their bodies. Through the viewport, the storm above thickened into walls of fire and ash. A Varashi seed-ship detonated, its hull bursting apart in a cascade of glowing shards. The fragments fell like burning leaves across the sky, raining down as the Veila plunged toward the living city below
011.03 – The Living City
The Veila dropped through the last curtain of storm clouds and steadied as if the planet itself caught it in its hands. Below the city stretched an expanse unlike anything the Wanderers had ever seen. Coral-like towers rose from the ground in spirals, their surfaces pulsing with veins of soft blue light. Bridges of living rootwork spanned rivers that shimmered in bioluminescent glow. The entire city breathed, every structure moved and shifted as if it were alive, grown, and interconnected.
The shuttle eased onto a platform of vines that rose to meet it, hardening under its weight until it became a landing pad. As the hatch opened, humid air rushed in, thick with the scent of dirt and water.
The crew stepped out together, weapons slung but lowered. Immediately, figures closed in around them. The species were tall, sinewy, with skin traced in shifting bands of light that pulsed like a heartbeat. Their weapons looked alive: lances that twisted with vines, sporecasters brimming with glowing sacs, staffs that throbbed faintly in their hands.
No one spoke; the air was taut with suspicion. Their eyes, green and bright, unblinking, studied them as if measuring worth.
Then Zea heard it.
“We are the Varashi, who are you that descend through fire?”
The voice was not sound but presence, blooming in his mind like water filling a hollow. Zea’s breath caught. He recognized it instantly; they were speaking through Carodia, the Language of the Mind. Of all Savasu’s crew, he was the only one who could hear and tell it, and no one else knew; he intended to keep it that way. He listened in silence and chose not to answer, unwilling to risk revealing his secret.
The Varashi leader tilted her head slightly. Weapons lowered a fraction. Still, no sound had been spoken. The crew shifted uneasily.
Rhea hissed at the silence. “Well, this is going well. What now, they’re just gonna stand there glowing at us until they rot?”
Before Zea could respond, one of the Varashi stepped forward. Their mouths opened, releasing a stream of guttural, flowing syllables, half hum, half voice.
The crew’s translators stuttered, catching fragments.
"We… are… the… V… rash"
The warrior tried again, firmer this time. The system clicked, fractured once more, then smoothed into clarity.
"We are the Varashi.”
The words rang through the humid air, final and unyielding.
Rhea let out the breath she had been holding. “Ahh, they do speak.”
Artelle’s voice cut in. “Rhea, compose yourself.”
Zion tapped at her wrist console, eyes sharp. “The system needed samples. It should hold now.”
"I am Seray." The words flowed smoothly and rhythmically. "We apologize. We normally do not use primitive communication. There is no need, as we are all interconnected. We speak at a more sophisticated level."
Seray’s eyes lingered on Zea, who remained silent.
Rhea leaned toward him, whispering, “I think we’ve just been insulted.”
Artelle stood like a statue, arms clasped behind her back. “Good, let’s speak plainly. You called for aid, we answered.”
The Varashi leader’s bioluminescent markings shifted in slow, unreadable patterns. When they spoke again, the translator lagged, then steadied.
“If you came to answer our call, you must prove it. The sky breaks. Soon the fire will fall upon us all.”
Overhead, thunder rolled. The clouds glowed as distant explosions rattled the heavens, shaking the towering structures of the living city.
011.04 – Fire Falls
The first shock came as a tremor through the Savasu’s hull. The viewports flared white as a Varashi seed-ship ruptured under Synth fire. Its bioluminescent shell split apart, spilling radiant shards into the void.
The sound followed a heartbeat later, low and heavy. A muffled concussion rolled through the ship’s systems, more pressure than noise, like thunder sealed in stone.
“The line’s breaking,” Zion said. Her voice was steady, but her hands never stopped moving. “Synth formation pushing through atmosphere.”
On the main display, streaks of fire speared down through the clouds. The last of the Varashi fleet was collapsing.
“Contact imminent,” Hagok barked. “All stations ready.”
The Veila skimmed low over the Varashi city. From above, the Wanderers watched towers of living coral shudder as debris rained down. Fires spread along root-bridges. The Varashi below unleashed their arsenal: vines lashing skyward, spores bursting into glowing clouds that clung to Synth hulls, sonic blooms rattling the storm.
And then, the city itself answered. Water coursed through living conduits, pressurizing in veins of light. Droplets erupted upward in gleaming arcs, defying gravity. Rain rose to meet fire, colliding in midair, hissing into steam. It was as though the planet itself wept skyward, refusing to burn.
The Wanderers added their fire. Utrium cannons lit the storm, precise bursts that cut through armour plating. Synth vessels folded under the strikes, their ruptures registering as smothered implosions through the Savasu’s sensors.
For a moment, it was enough. But then Zion’s console dimmed with a warning. “Our weapons are effective, but there’s just too many, we’re not even making a dent.”
Rhea spat into comms. “These plant's ships are so much faster than the Synths, but their weapons are just not strong enough to burst through their hulls.”
Rotan froze, eyes widening as if lightning had struck. “I have an idea!”
“What is it!” Zion asked.
Rotan rushed off, but not before barking some orders, "No time to talk, got to work, get me a Varashi fighter! I'll meet it in the hangar,"
“What do you need a…” Hagok half-rose, ready to demand an explanation, then stopped. Rotan was already gone.
Hagok took to the comms. “Send us one of your fighters,” Hagok ordered. His tone was iron. “Dock with us. My botanist will board and attempt an augmentation. If it works, it changes the war. If it fails, we’re no worse off than dead.”
The bridge fell silent, then a voice answered, strained but resolute. “We will trust you.”
011.05 – Water Rises
A Varashi fighter peeled from formation, weaving through fire until it locked onto the Savasu’s hangar. Living tendrils gripped the deck, sealing air between ship and ship.
Inside the hangar, Rotan stopped short. The fighter pulsed with life, its hull flexing like muscle, veins glowing faintly beneath its skin. He placed a hand against the panelling and felt it, the living heartbeat of the planet below flowing through its organic frame.
The pilot stepped aside without a word, markings shifting in acknowledgement.
Rotan swallowed hard. “This… this thing’s alive.” Then he got to work.
Hands trembling, Rotan pulled utrium cells from a Savasu weapons rack and pressed them into the fighter's conduits. The vessel shuddered, rejecting the foreign element. For a moment, he thought it would burst apart.
“Treat it like a patient,” Zion’s voice said. “Stabilize the resonance, or it’ll kill you before the Synths get the chance.”
“I’ve got this!” Rotan said reassuringly, then whispered to himself, “I hope.”
“Easy…” he whispered, more to himself than the ship. “Drink it. Don’t fight it.”
Zion shook her head, clinging to the certainty of her science. “This can’t work. This can’t possibly work.” Then she froze. “What the vak…?”
Rotan stiffened, expecting the worst. “What? What did I do?”
Zion’s voice came back, low with disbelief. “I think it’s working. Against every law of physics, you actually did it.”
The veins pulsed brighter, threads of violet light merging with Varashi bioluminescence.
Rotan let out a large sigh and set everything aside.
Rotan slid into the cockpit, swallowed by living tendrils that wrapped around his arms and chest like a second skin. The fighter responded instantly, pulling free of the Savasu’s hangar.
The front lines erupted before him.; Rotan's hands shook as the targeting vein aligned with a Synth, which broke through the clouds. He pulled the trigger.
The weapon unleashed a bloom of spores laced with utrium resonance. They clung to the enemy’s hull, then ignited, boring inward with impossible precision. The Synth core ruptured in a muffled implosion, its body collapsing into fragments of dark metal.
The battlefield froze for an instant. Then Rhea’s voice whooped over comms. “Now that’s making history!”
Rotan didn't stop. He lined up another and fired again. Another muffled implosion. Then another. A third, a fourth. Rotan had the taste of victory in his mouth now and savoured it, along with the flood of praise spilling across the comms. A fifth target fell, and the sky bloomed with collapsing fire, each kill driving the swarm back. The Varashi cheered, their chorus rising like wind through reeds as more fighters docked with the Savasu to be spliced into hybrids.
By the sixth kill, the Synths were faltering, their formation unravelling. Rotan's fighter was a streak of violet and bioluminescent fire weaving through the storm.
Then came the seventh. This ship was not like the others; its hull glowed and pulsed with a strange rhythm, almost as if it were breathing. Rotan's spores struck home, igniting in a flare of violet resonance. The warship ruptured, and the swarm shuddered. Drones froze mid-flight, weapons dimming, movements stuttering. One by one, they dropped in silent arcs, raining through the clouds like puppets with their strings cut.
On the Savasu’s bridge, Zion’s console flared with cascading data. “It’s not a coincidence,” she breathed. “That ship wasn’t just another target, it was their driver, their brain. The drones needed it to function.”
Hagok’s jaw tightened. “Then the swarm has a head, and heads can be cut.”
Rotan circled back through the clouds, chest heaving, disbelief painted across his face. He had destroyed seven Synth ships, the last one breaking the battle entirely.
Above, the fire still fell. But now, water rose to meet it.
