Gharazuun, Former Mahasimu Hive-World — Orbit & Surface
The Giza Mtuji lingered like a watchful god above the dead world, its obsidian hull veiled in psychic shrouds, unseen by the primitive eyes below. For eight planetary rotations, the ship's probes and scouts had moved silently through the ruins—mapping, recording, listening.
Now, first contact loomed.
Below: The Meeting Ground
Sefu stood motionless in the dusk-lit catacombs, the silence of the hive pressing in on him like the weight of ancestral guilt. His armor was invisible to the naked eye, but his presence was sharp—felt rather than seen.
Behind him, Shailia extended her psionic aura like a beacon of stillness, her every breath tuned to the tension in the air. Tano, ever-watchful, scanned the shadows, his hand never straying far from his blade.
From within the ruins, a shape emerged.
Taller than the others. Older. Wiser. Cloaked in woven sinew and rough bone, with eyes that shimmered with the dull fire of memory. Esharok. Chieftain of the Kazi. Survivor of what should have killed them all.
His voice rasped with the dust of centuries.
"Strangers," he croaked. "You come from the void—spies of the darkness, perhaps. We have watched from beyond, living within our fear."
Sefu lowered his head slightly, acknowledging the elder's burden.
"We know the stories of your empire's fall. The sky burned. The stars wept. And your kind vanished. But you left behind… more than ruins."
Esharok paused, then slowly turned his gaze to the cracked floor of the tunnel beneath his feet.
"There is something else here—something we fear more than your return. Beyond the broken stones. Beneath the soil. Something stirs."
Flashback: A Memory of Fire
In that moment, his mind opened—and Shailia saw.
A Kazi child's eyes, wide in terror. The sky a riot of crimson fire. Mahasimu warships blotting out the sun. The hive screaming. Flesh ignited by bioplasma. Then came silence. Then came the dark.
Another image: a chamber deep beneath the hive, where captured Kazi were wired into psionic matrices by Mahasimu bio-architects. Not to be enslaved—but studied. Engineered. Absorbed.
Then came the collapse. Systems failed. Machines choked on screams. The dark thing sealed beneath—not Mahasimu. Not Kazi. Something else. Left there. Forgotten.
Shailia recoiled from the vision with a sharp breath.
"You saw it," Esharok said flatly. "You touched the scars we carry."
Above: The Psionic Council
Back aboard the Giza Mtuji, Saumu stood in silence, watching the encounter through a live psi-link. Nearby, Archivist Nyare's hands trembled as she transcribed psychic echoes onto an obsidian slate.
"This… confirms the Black Protocols," Nyare murmured. "There were experiments here. On both species. Our own ancestors sought to bind or imprison something… beyond comprehension."
Sam stood rigid, fists clenched.
"We didn't just lose this world," he said. "We buried something. And the Kazi were caught in the wake."
Below: Dialogue in the Dark
Esharok took another step forward, his limbs shaking but his voice steel.
"This world is not empty. It was never truly ours. And now, you stir the dust of what should have remained buried."
Shailia's voice was calm but urgent.
"We did not come to awaken the dead. We seek knowledge… peace… perhaps even alliance."
The chieftain's eyes burned with restrained fury.
"You speak of peace, but wear the armor of ghosts. Trust must be earned, not spoken."
He pointed to the blackened husk of a collapsed spire.
"That tower once touched the stars. You turned it into a tomb. If you want our help… if you want our knowledge… then speak not only to me."
He raised a clawed hand, then slammed it against the tunnel wall. A resonant hum pulsed through the stone. From the shadows, others emerged. Not warriors. Not leaders. Memory Keepers.
Elder Kazi seers, blind and hollow-eyed, yet their minds surged with ancient impressions—war, betrayal, pain.
Flashback: The Sealed One
A final memory. Fragmented. Not from Esharok—but one of the blind seers.
A Mahasimu priest, chanting in a forgotten dialect. Blood offerings to a sealed crypt beneath the hive. Something shifting inside—vast, ancient, formless. A god, perhaps. Or a curse.
Its name forbidden. Its hunger unending.
"We were never its jailers," the seer hissed in a tongue older than Kazi. "We were its warning."
Decision Point
Shailia stepped forward, placing her palm gently against the chieftain's chest.
"Then let us earn your trust. We will not awaken that which slumbers. But if it wakes… we will stand beside you, not above you."
Esharok studied her, the fire in his gaze flickering uncertainly.
"One chance. That is all you will get."
Orbit: Shadows Await
Saumu stood in the ship's sanctum, eyes closed, her voice heavy.
"We were not the first to rule this world. And we may not be the last. If something older stirs… we must know what we buried before we dare claim what remains."
Sam nodded grimly.
"Then we dig carefully. Or we all share the Kazi's fate."
Behind them, Nyare whispered as she finished etching a final phrase in the psionic log:
The darkness below does not sleep. It waits for memory to return.