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[CONFIDENTIAL -- LEVEL 14 ACCESS]

[BOLD EYE OUTER SYSTEM OBSERVATION POST EVENT #1 - EMERGENCE]

[NEURAL COMMENTARY BY PORKUS THA, FARLOOKER]

[WARNING: This commentary is provided by a sub-species. Bias is expected and the recounted information should be accorded low credibility until an authorized individual has confirmed the contents.]

Nothin' worse than Bold Eye. That's the truth. Half a life spent staring out at nothing but dark. Sittin' in a tube on the ass end of the ass end of civilization. Only part about it that's got some redemption to it is the fact it's far enough out that The One Above, curse his name, ain't got the time or the care to make our lives any more miserable than they already is.

Doesn't stop 'em from squawking though, do it? After dozens of units they've all a sudden got themselves into a proper tizzy. Pippin' every other unit with some nonsense demanding 'vigilance' and the 'consequences for failing to report'.

"Report what?" I said, guttering it out into the tube. "Ain't nothing but nothing here!" I flapped me flips about, 'cause it felt good to hear conversation even if it were my own, but damn 'em if they weren't the worst thing that'd ever happened to the universe. More then once I wish I'd been about back in my pod's pod's time. Just to at least give 'em a proper toss. Better to lose a life fightin' then spend it servin'.

But now they got their hooks in, don't they? Got us all turned about and tied down. To scared to put a flip anywhere but where they say.

And here I sit.

Flappin' flips.

Waitin' to report.

REPORT ON WHAT?

IT'S GODS DAMN BLACK AND EMPTY.

JUST LIKE IT'S BEEN EVERY UNIT SINCE I GOT HERE.

=-=-=-=-=

Somethin' strange is happening. The demands for reports are a constant stream now, but now I get the why of it. The black ain't black any more. Somethin' is goin' on.

Somethin' is out there.

I can't do nothin' about it but report.

Last thing I want to do. I report, then I might get them Spacers in here. Maybe even a few Enforcers if they want to lock it down. Nothin' ever good come from havin' them involved, that's for sure.

Maybe I just sit here.

Maybe I don't say nothing.

Black is black.

Ain't something comin' out of nothin'.

I don't see nothin'.

They don't get to know nothin'.

=-=-=-=-=

They're here.

Really them. And it ain't a small bit of 'em. It's beyond anything I ever seen or heard of before. Even back in the Core Worlds. More than anything The One Above ever dreamed of, that's for sure.

I ain't got the right words to describe it. But I'm gonna flap at it anyways, because I want to tell someone. Want everyone to know that they're here.

The Humans.

That's what they call theyselves. I got it from them direct. They got some way of saying our words. Not sure how they got them, but they got them and they say them. It looks somethin' silly when you see 'em. They got their own way of puttin' sounds out and it don't match flips flappin'.

Which is fine by me. I ain't gonna judge no one for being different. I ain't like The One Above. I keep my mind open.

What matters is that they came. Right through the black. They say they made an "aperture" which I guess is some sort of hole. Not sure how you can make a hole in nothin', but they gone and done it, haven't they?

None of the bits and bobs on the Bold Eye can pick it out though. All it says is that it can't say. Never seen that before neither. Its like the Bold Eye been blinded by it. Like it's a giant gap in the black.

But now it's gettin' filled in. Or at least them Humans are coming out of it. Bringin' their ships and stations. They come on out of the hole they made. Ships by the dozen, each flankin' a big metal box that come floatin' through. Once it gets far enough away from the hole, the box starts to unravel, comin' apart and building itself out.

The Humans call 'em Domains. Say they're there to help. To make it so we can get out from The One Above.

I ain't see how yet, but I believe it.

=-=-=-=

I met the Head of Domain today. She reached out and contacted me, like I was someone. Like talkin' to me was a thing worth doin'. Not sure what I make of that, but I was glad to flap.

Sure as not to be high treason, but I always said I'd fight if I ever got a shot at it.

Here's the back and forth of it.

"Hello, Farlooker Tha, I am Head of Domain Richell. I understand you've spent some time in contact with our reconnaissance team and outreach coordinators," she said. The translator does somethin' odd to her voice. I listened to the raw feed once and she sounds much better there, but the Human language is all bubbles and slurbs.

"I go by Porkus, Lady. Farlooker is my designation under The One Above. I ain't got any love for it nor any desire to go by it, that's for sure," I say, lettin' her know just where I stand on things.

She makes a motion with her voice spot, which I gather is somethin' friendly. They show their bits of white and their eyes squint all up. It's an odd thing, to show somethin' friendly so public like that, but, like I say before, I ain't one to judge. Not too much.

"Please, call me Samantha. Or Sam. Or HoD Richell. We have no nobility within Humanity." She paused and looked to the side before continuing. "I have been told that you have taken great risks on our behalf. That you have not notified The One Above of our arrival. While I appreciate the gesture, it concerns us when any of the sentients subject to The One Above place themselves in harm's way. However, since the decision is made, we will extend our protection over you and those who may come to harm for your decision to assist us. That will require a detailed recounting of those who may be impacted by your decision and where they may be found. We will provide advance teams to extract them prior to the upcoming cleanse."

Lotsa those words didn't mean nothin'. At least not in the known sense of 'em. But I could gather it well enough. I still didn't get much sense for what the Humans were about, though I knew well enough they didn't have no love for The One Above. This Head of Domain seemed like she had answers. So I figured I'd just ask 'em.

"What's the meaning of this cleanse, Lady?" Then I caught myself and amended it. "HoD Richell?"

"Ah, I can provide an explanation there. We will be conducting an information campaign in the upcoming [unknown units of time]. There's no harm in an early reveal." She tapped a few buttons on the console in front of her, reviewed the materials, and then looked up. "As you know, I am a representative of the Pan Terran Alliance. We initially came into contact with the species you know as the Thrum, the primary constituents for The One Above. This contact came following the development of a failed aperture, which co-opted an existing transference portal within our space. They sent a number of sentient beings, some Thrum and many not, through that portal, which allowed us to gather a sense of the state of this portion of space."

"The Thrum and their lot are right [expletive deleted]."

Them white things made a reappearance. "Yes, well, we are in agreement there. Particularly after their hostile treatment of our representative." She shifted her body. "They were warned of the consequences, and I am one of those consequences."

She waved an appendage to the side, the little delicate nubs animating about. "It is my responsibility to conduct a cleanse in this Domain. A cleanse is another term for a political re-orientation, which entails the removal of a current power structure, the pacification of any resistance, and the support in implementing a power structure that more equitably administers the needs of sentients in this space."

"So...what then? You're going to kill the Thrum?" I says.

"I imagine some of them, yes. It will largely depend on them. Current analysis suggests this cleanse will require significant effort. The Thrum have built an unsustainable, predatory ecosystem on the back of a number of client species. A core tenet of the Pan Terran Alliance, and the Arch Galaxis generally, is sentient autonomy and self-direction. No sentient species is permitted control over another. Even if such control is willingly ceded. There are many reasons for it, but that is a topic for another [unknown units of time]."

All of this sounded more than good to me. Until they showed up, I just about resigned myself and all the pods that came after to bein' under The One Above. Nothin but scrapin' below the Thrum, livin' in tubes staring at the black just 'cause they said it so.

"They, they got a lot of power. Ships and the like. Last count I heard, over four thousand worlds strong. They been in power a long time, and they aren't like to give it up easy," I say, lettin' her know the truth of it.

"It's closer to six thousand worlds. Of course, they have a number of restrictions. Limited grasp of wormholes with no miniaturization. Military, while extensive, is quite poorly run in terms of logistics, which will make the defensive campaign difficult. Defending space is always difficult." Then them little white things came again. "And then there's the real bit of it. They're playing with [unknown reference object] and we're playing with [unknown reference object]."

I frowned at that last bit.

"So, you're stronger?" I ask, trying to get a sense of it.

Lots of white bits now.

"Unfathomably."