[Inaius]Kindred Salvation: A Cartographer Society's Thread

Part I: A Kind of Home​

"Translation complete. Beginning to make for heading North-147.852, East-487.002, Zeta-14562.5504." says the Steersman.

"Confirming heading: the Dolem Gate. Commencing will-call with Control," says the communications officer, "Century. Century. Gloria Invictus."

"Gloria Invictus," comes the reply, "Another wonderful day at Gateway Installation H-S1, wouldn't you agree?"

"I couldn't agree more Control," says the communications officer. "Mark my tail please. I'd like for the Guardians to not burn a hole into its hull."

"Marking tail," says Control, "Do you have a call sign for it?"

"Call sign 'Salvation," replies another voice on the bridge.

"Salutations, Cartographer Neziel," replies Control, "will mark as call sign 'Salvation' and add its IDAs to the system. Standby for confirmation."

"Will standby for confirmation," replies Cartographer Neziel. Turning to his Steersman, he commands, "Full stop." The Steersman replies, and the ship gradually slows down, to just in front of the imposing Dolem Gate.

Large. Imposing. Impossibly gargantuan. The Dolem Gates have existed since before the Cartographer Society was even an idea. They look like two, elongated pieces of asteroid. They're essentially large floating space ovals. However, if one were to look at the minute details, one might find a tinge of light blue. A spark of energy. A source of light. One might also notice a miasma of a sort that surrounds the Gate. The aura is almost like an afterthought. One wouldn't notice it unless one was looking for it.

Dolem Gate is not alone however. To either side of it, one will find its keepers.

Two curious orbs the size of battleships, hang suspending in space, motionless, and emotionless. Coursing energies move through the cracks on its otherwise smooth surface. Ponderously, it rotates almost imperceptibly from left to right. One might automatically assume that such a contraption were mechanical. And another might concur that they are right.

The truth though, like everything in the Society, is marked with an asterisk.

"Alright Cartographer, your tail is all set. You're both headed to the Vault. Correct?" Announces Control.

"Your inference is spot-on Control," replies the Cartographer.

"Good, the Dolem Gate will receive you both now."

"Moving to full ahead, Cartographer," states the Steersman. "Thank you Control. Be back in a bit," says the communications officer, closing the active transmission link.

The dormant towers of asteroid, as if on cue, begin to come alive. The energy conduits that one might have to imagine are there, no longer leave anything to doubt. In the space between the two towers, energy begins to coalesce, forming a kind of portal. The Guardians to either side of the Gate begin to move to a safe distance just a little off from the entity of energy.

"Wanderer of Tza'tak to Rubrik, move into our shadow and set your pace to match ours. We must enter together or you won't exit out the other side, whole," says the communications officer.

"Good copy Wanderer," replies the commanding officer of the Rubrik, "You sure those things won't shoot at us as we move into the gap?"

"Negative Rubrik. Just don't lose your nerve. They can smell fear," jokes the communications officer. Cartographer Neziel just smirks in response.

"That's just great! First a galactic society whom owes allegiance to no one appears out of thin flipping space! And now they have robots that can smell fear? What next? You going to tell me you guys are keeping a Yuo'bor in a pot or something?! This is ridiculous!"

"The captain is losing it," says one of the other officers present. "Discipline, my acolytes," states the Cartographer, "the fact that the captain has come so far in that dinky little tub with afterburners on it, goes to show his commitment to save his species from annihilation. Give him some space to breathe."

"Commencing Dolem Gate acceleration in T-minus 10!" shouts the Steersman, "all hands to stations! Prepare to jump!"

"Welcome home, everyone," says the Cartographer into the ship's comms.​

------------------------------------------------------------------
Part II: The Vault
------------------------------------------------------------------​

What is knowledge? It is a figment of one's imagination. It is the perceived notion of thinking that something is definite in its abstract opacity It is the idea that if we were to hold onto this particular conjunction of descriptors that we might be better off living.

It's this feeling of knowing something exclusive to the notion of knowing and thinking you'll survive the calamities to come. For the crew of the Rubrik, that feeling is all too real.

"What... what is this place?" questions their captain as they exit the warp sphere. Having just translated from a relatively normal planetary system straight into the nebula, no one expects to find such a place.

"Captain, remember our agreement," reminds Cartographer Neziel over the intercom, "You will only refer to this place as 'a place unlike that which you have seen' or something to that extent, to your friends and family. This goes for both you and your crew."

"How did you manage to build this place?" questions the Captain. The Cartographer however, ops for the normal answer: silence.

The Vault is a holy place. Both home and a place of study, the Vault is the foundation of the Cartographer Society. Despite most Cartographers only sparingly coming back to this place, many will claim that sleeping in their habitation compartment at the Vault is second only to their research. The Vault caters to over several thousand Cartographers, their staffers, and their needs. Species food tastes, recreational habits, and social accommodations are all taken into account, culminating into a unique living quarters specially catered to by the Directorate for the Study of Societal and Cultural Conditions.

"Messiah. Messiah. This is the Wanderer of Tza'tak," hails the communication's officer.

"This is Messiah," replies the Vault gatekeeper, "Welcome home."

"Thank you Messiah," begins Cartographer Neziel, "I need you to give docking permissions to my tail, call sign Salvation."

"Hold your current course at quarter-speed," commands the Vault gatekeeper, "I trust you Cartographer. But compliance is key as always, here at the Vault. You're clear to dock in Hangar 11-G2 at your convenience. Mind the traffic on your way in."

"Good copy Messiah," responds the Wanderer's helmsman. Quickly switching to the ship's intercom system, "All crew members, prepare for docking and disembarkation. Welcome home everyone." A small cheer goes up from the crew.

A few more minutes pass as Vault security does its final checks of the Rubrik.

Suddenly, over the communication's channel, "UFO call sign Salvation, this is the Vault Control and Security Center. My name is Yuma, and I am one of several ranking Cartographers in charge of this facility. In order to finish our security checks and clear you for docking rights, a Guardian will go out to you to inspect your ship, scanning it to ensure that all of the IDAs recorded in our preliminary scanning matches what came here. Not to startle you, but sometimes during the transition, you'll acquire the occasional hitchhiker."

The Captain of the Rubrik gulps. "What do you mean... hitchhiker?"

"Don't worry," the Cartographer tries to reassure him, "they're mostly harmless. Sentient energetic parasites that try to suck your vessel dry of power. Actual parasites that insert their mind-controlling progeny into your crew's brains. Stuff like that."

"You call that harmless?!" panics the Captain.

"Don't worry. If we find any such creatures aboard your ship, the Guardian will proceed to vaporize your vessel," Yuma says calmly.

"Cartographer Neziel, he's joking right?" asks the Captain. Unfortunately, Cartographer Neziel replies, "Our ships are designed to ensure such lifeforms can't find purchase on our hull. Hence why I asked when we first met, if any of your race's vessels had some sort of electromagnetic barrier device. They also serve as a great natural barrier to prying eyes! Their predators are actually, even worse. Luckily, your vessel is too small to catch their notice so, that's half the battle won!"

"Once I get off this ship, I swear to Gargaroth-"

"I hate to interrupt this beautiful display of affection," interjects Yuma, "but the Guardian will be arriving at your location in T-minus 2."

"You people are crazy!" exclaims the Captain.

"We prefer the term, 'eccentric," replies Neziel.

As the exchange continued to go on, a ponderous orb, just like the ones guarding the Dolem Gates the two ships just passed, approached the Rubrik almost cautiously from the front.

Broadcasting to the Rubrik, the Guardian transmits, "Hello! And welcome to Installation 0-D01H, call sign, the Vault. My name is Lucifer, a sentient A.I. in service to the Cartographers. At this moment, I will be scanning your ship, the Rubrik, down for any hostile lifeforms that might be detrimental to our facility's health and well-being! Please standby."

Almost immediately after the broadcast ends, a high-power energy scanner sweeps out from the center of the Guardian towards the Rubrik. "It's like it's going to make a copy of us," remarks one of the crew members. After the scan is complete, the Guardian quickly moves to first the left side of the ship, repeats the same process, then to the right. Finally, it reaches the bottom of the hull, when its frontal sensor array flashes from yellow to red.

Broadcasting to the Rubrik again, the Guardian transmits, "Uh-oh! Looks like we found one. Species ID#516674201PE190+ (basically, parasite - energetic), Type-class ER, Threat Level Minimal! Please standby for extermination!"

"Cartographer!" the Captain quickly starts to panic again.

"Hold your nerve," replies Neziel. Unbeknownst to either the Rubrik or to the crew of the Wanderer, those manning the Control and Security Center were enjoying a rare chuckle at the deteriorating psychological condition of their newest guest. Although the Cartographer had little doubt as to their enjoyment.

"Sometimes I swear," says the Cartographer to just those near him, "Yuma is secretly a sadistic eccentric."

The helmsman can only shrug, prompting the communications officer to put his face into a hand.

The Guardian though, continues on with its programming, and proceeds to surgically zap the hitchhiker off of the Rubrik.

"Your ship has been scanned and cleansed of all external hostile lifeforms! Please enjoy your stay at the facility! Please remember that the Society is not responsible for your well-being in areas of the facility that you are not directly authorized to enter! Thank you! And have a wonderful time!"

The Guardian, having finished its task, begins to make its way towards the Dolem Gate behind the two ships, having been queued a task elsewhere within Society space.

"I told you to hold your nerve Captain," says Neziel into the open channel, "need a new pair of trousers?"

The Captain says nothing, as Yuma provides to him on a private channel clearance to dock on one of the smaller platforms slated for guest usage.

"Captain, we will meet in the Grand Atrium once I have concluded my business elsewhere within the Vault," continues Neziel. "In the meantime, you and your crew rest and please help yourselves to the amenities that we've so graciously provided per the instructions of your guide."

"Wait, you're not going to help me immediately," the Captain says, blinking twice.

"We'll have to table the matter for just a moment. I have not been home in quite some time, and have certain matters to take care of while here," explains the Cartographer.

"You unwholesome harlot!" exclaims the Captain, "You blasphemous dinglet! I will-"

Cartographer Neziel gives his communications officer the signal to cut the channel. The Captain was his main priority, but there were matters higher on the hypothetical totem pole that needed to be seen to first.

"Take us in," commands the Cartographer.

"Yes sir," replies the helmsman.​